#maybe the rain bit will become a post on its own as honestly i do miss feeling and enjoying the rain myself

[that-giorgione]

🧠❗⚔️☔ tell me everything (yes the last one can refer to firmament or surface rain)

🧠 - What is their stress response: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn?

🧠- He tends to freeze, wich is most annoying in many sistuations.

In social occasion, when caugt off-guard, he may awkardly freeze for a moment, luckily for him you can't really tell what's going on under that scuba of his.

In fights or more dangerous situation he freezes trying to make sense of the situation then tries to act accordingly. But that is really dependant on the situation.

❗- What are the highest priorities to this oc (at a point in their life of your choosing)?

❗- Right now their highest priority should be setting plans in motion to conserve London until he figures out more about all the players involved in the game, and see what is "right" and "wrong".

But lately he tends to get sidetracked esporing single aspects of the world or accumulating wealth and knoweledge to aid in his goals.

⚔️ - How does this oc handle conflict?

⚔️-

Step 1: Self reflection

"is this my fault too? if so, how can i help apolize/make up for it?"

Step 2: Discussion

"Let's try to walk through this, and maybe we can both resolve this manner in a way that benefits us both"

This step can get pretty heated

Step 3:

"How fast can you run? Because I'm almost done reloading"

☔ - How does this oc feel about rain?

☔- He doens't think much of the recent rain in london per se, but it did trigger memories in him...

He had not throught about rain in a long time, how it is annyoing if you get caught in it but liberating, the feeling of heavy droplets on the skin, ooh, and when you get in a safe place it's mesmerizing...

How sooting it was, the smell, the chillness, the white noise, seeing the comfort in drying up next to a fire. The perfect excuse to stay closer with someone, all warm and cozy, enjoying the sound of the rain toghether...

It is weird feeling this again here in the Neath... Too bad it's not as soothing this time.

From this ask.

[thewandererh]

💜💙❤️finally designing some jashlings for myself…after a full year of knowing chonny… 👀💦

TW // GOREY CONCEPTS, BLOOD, NOOSE/RED ROPE IMAGRY, DESCRIPTIONS OF AGONY (yummy)

i have pages of designs for the three that i doodled in my school sketchbook, and honestly i can’t pick one so i’m using ✨all of them✨. switching em out yknow?? maybe i accidentally created a bunch of aus instead of characters(??) because they all have loops that happen in different ways, or maybe they *are* the same but in different loops—the chonny paradox. anyways uhm some fellas to mention: nerd mind, merve (<3), deltarune soul, roe, toy-style soul, tadc mind (half an accident), a rabid heart, simon mind, an extremley nonbinary soul…heart with heart-eye glasses but then disruptivevoid reblogged someone’s cute render of the same idea— (honestly, lmao)

the gangs all here !!

but anyways I want to show off one design of soul in particular that has become an extremely fast favorite between me and my fellow rain-jash friend Sluggx!! it’s kinda gorey so i don’t know how to censor it :[, but the image is small so scroll past if the warnings above irk you. but uh. say hi to Dyadracide—a word i coined that means “to kill the duo”

me and my friend sluggx are going FERAL for him,,

ft roe and corona 🔱👑☀️

had the idea of designing a buttload of minds a bit ago, then recently this week i decided the same for soul. doodled him at school, then showed him to my friend via whiteboardfox :]. i draw Dyadra semi different now than there, but all his design is the same. rope neck that coils up inside his body when not in use, oversized pointy teeth (went monochromatik style with human teeth originally but nah), frizzly uhkempt hair, and a trident through his head. he’s always bleeding from the roof of his mouth, whether the trident is retracted into his skull or not. i love him so much😭💛. he has a full body and even a cute little gut but that’s kept for later for now. consider this a teaser of my inner workings :monk_devious:

ive been drawing him *SOOo* muchhh aaugha…can’t wait to show you when i can :]. building a batch of art for a tumblr post that i’ll dump later today maybe. get ready for some fun and gore galore~ (its not too gorey, just the trident-through-head-hes-always-choking-on-his-own-blood concept in full force. yummy ideas have to be explored huhu)

and off i go to have a late brunch. i always write these when i have something else to do lmao. *bites into omelette*

[stranger-rants]

Thoughts on Billy doing water therapy post starcourt? 💗💗💗

For as long as he can remember, Billy has loved the water. His body has always felt in tune with it. He could smell the rain long before it arrived. He could ride the waves with ease. When he was stressed, nothing quite brought him back to equilibrium like floating in the pool or taking a shower. Billy loved the water, and it loved him too. It embraced him when his father wouldn’t. It soothed his aching muscles with its warmth when he was treated too roughly. It took Billy’s anger whenever he swam laps in school, and pushed him to be stronger. It gave him everything he needed to one day leave.

Physical therapy isn’t “working.”

He’s become way too familiar with the ground.

They make him use a walker to get himself up out of bed or out of his chair. His chest hurts. His stomach muscles spasm. His legs shake. If he pushes himself too hard, his heart can’t take it. It beats too fast. He feels dizzy. The room spins. He falls. He says he can’t do it. He’s had enough. No more! Just let me lay here. You should have let me die. Everything hurts. He’s exhausted… but more importantly, he wants to slip into the water again… to feel weightless. Let it carry him, instead of having to carry himself. But he can’t. His scars are still forming. There’s numerous incision sites still closing up. He’s had so many surgeries he’s lost count.

He would have to be wrapped tight in plastic to enter a pool, and a public pool is an absolute no in his weakened state.

Still, he longs for it.

Billy spends much of his early recovery severely depressed. He doesn’t talk much to anyone. They nag him, though. You have to get up. You have to do your exercises. You have to drink enough water. Ha! He doesn’t want to just drink it. He wants to be in it. Submerged. Even when he is able to bathe, it’s either with a towel and a bucket or a quick shower sitting in a plastic chair. The kind elderly people use so they don’t slip and fall and break their hip. That’s hardly anything at all. So, he’s snippy with the few people willing to help… Max, who in her own frustration yells fine and leaves him alone and Steve who knows a thing or two about being stubborn.

Steve offers to take care of Billy for the weekend. Everyone else is busy and Billy struggles a lot when he’s left alone, though he doesn’t admit it. They don’t talk much. They do their own things - just, when Billy needs it, Steve is nearby to help. It’s quiet for a while. Steve calls out into the living room. He can’t find him. He’s about to go into panic mode when he notices Billy sitting outside by the pool. He opens the sliding glass door, but Billy doesn’t move from his spot. As Steve moves closer, he can see Billy’s legs in the water.

“I’m not gonna drown myself if that’s what you’re thinking…”

“Didn’t think you would,” Steve says, but honestly he’s not sure what to think about Billy at any given moment.

“Feels good.”

Billy closes his eyes. His scars are healed enough. If he could just push his body into the water… but maybe then his muscles will cramp up and he’ll actually drown.

“You wanna go in?”

Billy looks at Steve like he’s crazy, but yeah. He wants to go in.

“Don’t think I can. M’not strong enough.”

“Nonsense,” Steve shakes his head, “I’m here, so if you feel weak or whatever, I’ll save you.”

Steve winks at him, earning an eye roll. He nudges Billy’s arm. “C’mon, champ. Let’s get you some swim trunks.”

That’s how it starts, with Steve guiding him back into the pool. It’s everything he thought it would be for his broken body. The stress leaves his muscles. He can breathe a bit easier. His heart beats at a steady rhythm, except for when Steve’s hands wrap around his scarred waist. The first time they only spend a few minutes in the pool before Billy clearly needs a nap, but there’s another time and another time and another time. Steve agrees to take care of Billy on weekends, and no one thinks about it much other than Steve being Steve - always trying to lessen everyone’s “burdens” but really this is good for him, too.

After a while, Billy’s physical therapist notes improvement. He falls less. His mobility is better. He can cope better with physical strain. She asks if he’s been doing his exercises and he says “more or less.”

Physical therapy is working.

[thatcheeseycandle]

//tw for mentions of war, death, breakdowns, fighting, hurt, and Buckle up Buttercup ITS TIME FOR THE FIRST FANFICTION I'LL EVER BE POSTING

Now before reading I'd like to point out the possibility of the characters here being somewhat out-of-character since each bit was written in 10 minutes (IT WAS FOR A SPRINTING BOT DISCORD SESSION OKAY- But I did clean it up a bit by redoing some of the bits) and then to add on I used a wheel to pick what I should do

And the wheel chose "do a story where a side character actually shows emotion for once" so uh would explain why Spencer might might be like half out-of-character

To add on this is basically my take on the whole.. "Irl History affects the plot" thing (also being set in my Candle-lit Railways AU which also explains the humanoid descriptions) so yup, PREPARE FOR WAR-

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

As the candle dimmed down it's light, The shed doors would close with silence filling the air, simply another night to rest then waste all that energy again.

Spencer would let out an exhausted sigh. He knew how devastated Mallard would be once he heard the news  about Gadwall, the more innocent one among the Gresleys, always naive yet a charming one in his own unique way.

Unique enough to get Great Northern, of all people, to soften up to him. It still surprised Spencer til' this moment that he got North to become soft. Though that uniqueness left a gap in reality, a horrible reality, that's now began a world war.

Which was the same exact thing that led to Gadwall's demise. The demise of the only light that was left in darkness. They killed an innocent engine just because of humanity's selfishness.

They killed his brother. His youngest brother.

The Shed doors would open, snapping Spencer out of his thoughts as he looked to who was near the doors. He would see it to be Sir Nigel, in his humanoid form.

He would sigh in relief, maybe Sir Nigel could keep him from his night terrors for just this night. Just for an hour at least.

Sir Nigel would look up to Spencer, sitting on a stool next to him. Simply looking out the shed into the moonlight knowing that Spencer needed some company.

"I miss him too."

Sir Nigel suddenly said in a mournful voice.

"I-.. I miss him more than.. More than anything, honestly."

Spencer replied back, depressingly.

As the two sat there, simply tranquil together, they would mourn in silence. For their brother. Because nothing was louder than their younger brother's joyous aura.

That aura was gone for good.

———

He was in the rain, running as fast as he could towards Top sheds. He knew his crew would say something about Gadwall's death. He can't be held back by his engine form, not now. Even if he wasn't steaming he was able to shift into his humanoid form.

Spencer’s fire kept burning and burning inside his chest as he ran through the rain. Running like someone who was rollerblading, technically he was skating with his wheels.

But he kept running and running. He didn't care if his crew would scold him, he wouldn't care if Sir Nigel Gresley himself would come to scold him after. He needed to save what was left of Mallard's innocence, what was left of his hope.

With World War II currently escalating into more madness, Spencer had to hold onto each bit of hope he could keep or at least save. He had to hold onto Mallard's innocence more, even just for a week or a day he had to hold onto it a little bit longer.

As he got to top sheds, he already felt the atmosphere shift as he caught a glimpse of Quicksilver and Mercury's mournful faces. Silverfox was in Polly's arms, sobbing, grieving as the news sunk into her mind. He knew that his crew told them as well, he already knew by the shift, by the faces.

He would bust open the doors to Mallard's shed, his black silver-lined coat falling to the floor, but he wouldn't bother to pick it up as he saw Mallard's fallen face. Spencer saw the tears slip down Mallard's cheeks more quicker than water pouring into an engine's boiler. It was too late.

Mallard had the news sunken into his mind and Spencer knew that well enough to not take one more step near Mallard, afraid that he'd lose his mind more than he looks like he already has.

He simply stood there, letting Mallard grieve as his crew comforted the glossed-black locomotive as he grieved for his younger sibling. Spencer would take off his hat, in respect of Mallard currently breaking down.

Spencer didn't even need to look back to know that the others were watching Mallard slowly breakdown, he already could vision how Merlin would react to Mallard breaking down this much.

The thoughts inside Spencer's mind would inflict more anxiety through his veins as his breathe became shaky and his chest heavy, though wouldn't even flinch a single bit out of respect for Mallard.

It was a known rule that if you show weakness around someone who's in terrible condition physically or/and mentally, it is a sign of selfishness slipping through your mind.

And Spencer held that rule more higher than his pride, it was the only rule that really stuck to him underneath all his pride and “glory” for some reason. He didn't know that reason.

But he does know that, as of now, he needs to show his respect towards Mallard in his time of grief.

———

The rain would be pouring heavily atop of Top Sheds as the engines rested in their assigned sheds, some of them shivering from the cold while the rest would be sleeping tired of the workload for today. Though some engines wouldn't be either of those.

Silver Fox and Pretty Polly were the only ones awake at the time, Donovan was doing his last runs of the night so technically he counted as awake too. The two would sit in their sheds, which were next to each other. Polly would be looking up at the sky, not trying to guess any constellations, simply grieving silently.

Silver Fox on the other hand was trying to hold back tears from what's happened today, it was devastating seeing Silver King having to get hurt, even worse that Quick Silver started to lash out. She just wanted all this to stop.

She wanted everything to go back to normal, she didn't want to be apart of this war, even if it meant her being in her shed for decades. She never wanted to face all this. She thought frustratingly to herself.

She wouldn't realize until now that she started to have warm tears flow down her eyes onto her cheeks, dripping onto the ground, which would be heard due to the silence that hung over Top sheds.

As she blinked away her tears she would look over to Pretty Polly, who wasn't backed in her shed not caring for the cold, she simply rested outside as her gaze was focused at the sky above.

Silver fox would watch her silently, slowly going forward to get a better glimpse as her. Though Polly would sense her warm aura come near her.

“What do you think of the stars, my dear Fox?”

Polly asked Fox, in a soothing tranquil tone, Silver Fox would flinch a bit at Polly calling out to her, though would go forward a bit going next to Polly. As she got closer she would see tears flowing from Polly's eyes as well, shining in the moonlight as she gazed at the sky above them.

Silver Fox would be surprised at this. Though she couldn't really blame Polly, she thought to herself. With the war going on, and all the deaths that's been happening she must've felt the warmth of each soul disappear by the days passing by, Silver Fox thought as she continued her train of thought.

Finally she'd gaze up to the dark-royal blue sky, with the stars shining like the sparks of fire from an engine's firebox, a new star popping up by a few minutes. Each group of stars forming a shape, a symbol, a constellation.

It's.. It's gorgeous. Silver Fox thought through her grief. Though it didn't feel like the right words to describe the sky somehow, the view felt more than gorgeous. It felt serene yet overwhelming with all the stars in the sky.

Though she'd finally come up with a phrase, that almost, perfectly describes the feelings she has about the sky.

“It makes me feel at home, Ms Polly.”

————————————

YKNOW REREADING THAT IT MADE ME REMEMBER TOO MANY HEADCANONS I HAD FOR THE CANDLE-LIT RAILWAYS AU BEHAHDBXBX BUT YUP IT WAS NICE TO REWRITE THIS PIECE TO IT'S (near) POTENTIAL

SO YUP I'LL JUST POST ANOTHER FANFIC RIGHT WHEN MY BRAIN GETS AN IDEA-

[troglobite]

re: my lrb abt autistic processing (copied & pasted from my rambling abt it in the tags of the reblogs, then i didn't wish to be Perceived so i bailed and am posting abt it here instead)

i'm also now thinking abt something v interesting

okay so part of the reason i pursued an english degree was bc i think this process make literature analysis intuitive to me? i'm guessing

in hs we were being taught how to write higher level analytical essays, and all of the steps and assignments to learning it and parsing out the different pieces of planning and writing the essay were actively detrimental to my ability to do so

i was like STOP MAKING ME GO THROUGH A BOOK AND PULL OUT QUOTES AT RANDOM STOP MAKING ME WRITE MULTIPLE DIFFERENT THESIS STATEMENTS STOP IT!!!

bc i could finish reading a thing, be given a direction for a prompt, and then go okay here's my thesis statement and entire essay concept

and to the traditional teaching and order of operations that was Wrong, bc How Do You Have a Thesis Without Evidence? but i DID have evidence, i just had to go back and find it now that i'd coalesced it into an argument

i did the processing of details and evidence WHILE READING. it made no sense to me that you would finish reading something and NOT have an observation or argument to make abt its mechanics and purpose.

luckily my teacher was really neurodivergent-friendly, even if neither of us knew that's what it was at the time, and he went yeah no problem you can skip these assignments or do them differently. you can already do this just keep practicing i don't wanna mess w your process.

so that was v nice, highlight of my young education. is this bragging? i'm not gonna put this in the tags i'm making a separate post.

okay copied & pasted section over

but the reason this feels like bottom-up autistic processing is--

none of the other kids would have a Clear Idea abt what the book was already abt. the way it was often taught was more open-ended in our classes that year bc the point was to encourage us to read critically ourselves and learn to develop this skill. and so to them, they go into a book and are lost in the forest bc they can't see/understand the trees. they get to the end and are like What Just Happened. then they have to go back and start looking at all the trees again, now that they have a rough idea of the size and shape of the forest, and maybe the type of forest it is (rain, temperate, conifer, etc.)

so i'm not a genius master at this, but i feel like the only "big" concept i need is Story, or Book, or whatever. and then i walk in and immediately start encountering and identifying trees.

by the time i walk out the other side, i've already collected all of that information as part of my journey. so as soon as i look back, i have all the information to make sense of the Larger Context of the forest, and i go "oh i see. so THAT'S why this thing/pattern happened."

that's what feels bottom-up to me

i was honestly worried and gaslighting myself like "no that's definitely top-down" but it's not. if it was, i would need to what kind of book or story beforehand, etc., and have that to guide me. but i think that's counterintuitive, personally. i think it can become obvious what someone thinks, really, when reading their writing (given that they are/were in a temporal and geographical context close enough to your own to have reference points). then getting extra information abt that later is further helpful.

anyway there's my little bit of reflection for the day.

which unfortunately isn't terribly helpful w my ongoing crisis of identity at the moment bc it doesn't answer many questions, but it does sort of offer empirical evidence that that is something i'm good at, that my brain likes to do.

and also i want to own up to the fact that sometimes i finish reading something and i go "idk wtf to make of that. goddamn."

and that could be bc it was poorly written or was trying to say a lot. it could be bc it didn't mesh w my brain. it could be bc i need the act of writing abt the piece of writing to understand it (the way i have to talk out loud to understand my feelings abt something). it could be many things. but point being: i'm not trying to brag that i'm some magnificent genius, and i'm not trying to say this particular thing should be Easy for all autistic ppl. the way my brain works w words and stories is such that the bottom-up processing applies here and works well, but it's not the case for everyone.

i wish i hadn't spent the last minute or two typing that up bc i guarantee no one reads this and less self-deprecatingly, i'm tired of feeling like i have to anticipate a negative reaction to something and i'm tired of being responsible for someone misreading this and taking it as an insult if they weren't good at this same thing or assuming this makes either me or them not autistic bc we're not the same on this point

i just need the baseline understanding to be that NOTHING IS UNIVERSAL and ppl talking abt their own experiences is JUST THAT AND NOTHING MORE. it is also an invitation for ppl to relate. but y'know. anyway.

how and why am i managing the feelings of hypothetical ppl who probably won't even read this? i'm v tired.

[ootahime]

analyzing every gojohime moment in the manga 😈

this series will probably have more than one part because tumblr only lets me upload ten images per post </3

warning: there are disgustingly long paragraphs in here and delusions

chapter 32

utahime’s first introduction!  akutami lets us know right off the bat that she thinks gojo is an idiot (so true).

chapter 32

i love the contrast between miwa and utahime’s reaction to gojo’s appearance.  

chapter 33

NAH BC TELL ME WHY HE WENT OUT OF HIS WAY TO NOT GET HER ONE LMAOOOO!!  when he traveled overseas to meet with yuta, he picked up the tribal protection charms and thought to himself, “let’s get enough for the kyoto students as a gift since i am such a great and caring teacher, after all.  mmm, i should skip utahime to make her mad~”  this guy puts way too much effort into getting on her nerves.  his mind = utahime brainrot

chapter 33

she’s laughing at him here because he’s getting disciplined for being a lil shit.  i wonder...what would he say if he saw her laughing at him like that?  

chapter 33

this interaction between them is a little strange don’t you think?   i feel like over the years he’s learned how to pick up her mood based on the way she’s acting towards him.  you’re probably thinking, “well any person can figure out how a person’s feeling based on the way they’re talking or acting.”  yes, that’s absolutely true, but it’s kind of different with this.  she’s acting normal.  utahime has a rather indifferent expression on her face and what she says is spoken in a calm tone, but gojo still asks her if she’s mad at him.  it’s likely that he knows her well enough to be able to notice these subtle things.  even if she wasn’t actually mad at him, he was being considerate for a split second, then he went and said, “of course.  i didn’t do anything wrong and all.”  what a guy LOLOL.  to me, this implies that maybe he made her genuinely angry in the past to the point where he realized that he went too far, and thus decided to be more careful of her feelings.  she has definitely gotten annoyed at him so many times after that so whenever she seems angry, he probably asks himself if he took it too far.  i’m curious to see if he can pick up if she’s upset with something that’s not involving him.  would he console her?  how does gojo satoru console someone?  

despite him always annoying her, she’s still courteous and brings him a cup of tea during their talk.  she didn’t have to go out of her way to get tea for him but she did.  that’s the kind of person utahime is.  a kind and caring woman who would never put her students in danger.  in the anime they were sitting far away and not facing each other like they’re doing in the manga.  she also has her own tea cup.  i think that little panel of her placing the cup down on the table and him picking it up to take a sip is a nice little detail.  it just proves that her hating him most of the time isn’t actually pure hatred but annoyance because of his shenanigans and teasing.

chapter 33

i touched upon this a little bit in my previous post, but i wish to go more in depth about this panel.  first of all, he ends the sentence with her name twice.  two times too many, mr. gojo.  i like how they can be serious with each other too LOL.  i wish we got to see them talk about the traitors because they did figure it out together after all.  does it always end in bickering?  can they interact with each other like adults all the way through?  somehow, i feel like that’s not possible when it comes to these two.  furthermore, notice how gojo confides in utahime about his suspicions.  from what we know, she is the first person he brought it up to.  i mean, i guess he has to start investigating the schools and would need extra assistance to save time, but he could have done it himself if he really wanted to.  by deciding to ask for her help we know that he thinks she’s trustworthy, smart, and strong enough to face whatever considerable risks this task may entail.  

i didn’t point this out in my other posts but see how he makes a hand sign in the last panel when she throws the cup at him?  gojo is manually activating his infinity.  why though?  about a year after the whole star plasma vessel incident happened, gojo develops the ability to keep his infinity up at all times by using the reversed curse technique to consistently heal himself to prevent exhaustion.  this means that it really makes no difference whether he leaves it on or off.  there are a few times where we can witness someone actually touching gojo.  for example, yuuji giving him a hug.  did he turn his infinity off, or was it able to deduce that yuuji was not a threat?  the erasers and pencils shoko and geto threw at him during his demonstration of his new ability aren’t dangerous normally, but is it the speed that makes them dangerous?  even if it did hit him, it wouldn’t hurt.  how does the infinity know when to allow an incoming object to touch gojo?  i believe it is up to gojo himself to let things touch him; his infinity restricts anything and anyone.  some people say it could just be the fact that water is not dangerous to him, so therefore, he has to manually put his infinity up.  i thought this was a reasonable explanation as to why he put up the hand sign when the tea was thrown at him, but then i realized that it couldn’t be.  remember the second opening?  it’s raining and everyone is carrying an umbrella, then it pans to gojo with a bouquet in his hand and rain drops slipping off his infinity.  if he DID manually put his infinity up to prevent getting soaked then that implies that he chose to turn his infinity off.  you can argue and say that jujutsu high is a safe place with students so there’s no need to have his infinity there, but do you remember when he stepped on the ants in front of gakuganji and yaga?  the ants were perfectly fine after which insinuates that his infinity prevented his shoes from crushing the ants.  he most likely had his infinity on during the baseball game even though he was in a safe environment.  how does this long tangent relate back to utahime?  well, it simply indicates that gojo trusts utahime so much to the point where he can be vulnerable around her.  turning off his infinity symbolizes completely letting down his guard  in a way.  

how about what happens next?  utahime throws the tea at him, he turns on his infinity to deflect it, and he responds with, “scary!  hysteric women aren’t popular, you know!”  why would he even say that LMAO??  utahime doesn’t even try to deny what he said either.  she just hits him with the good old, “i am your senpai!”  could it be that he’s trying to poke fun of her relationship status?  maybe, maybe not.  doesn’t he like people a lil crazy?  he did say that all jujutsu sorcerers have to be a little crazy because they’re willing to put themselves in danger constantly.  

chapter 0 p.1

i wonder who he’s thinking of when he said that.  could it be utahime?  it seems like he’s reminiscing or thinking about someone.  he wears an amused expression on his face as he laughs - almost like he’s seen his fair share of how scary women can get :>>

chapter 34

the pattern behind gojo and utahime is called yagasuri “fletching,” a traditional japanese design.  this design is inspired by arrow fletching.  it's a lucky charm for weddings and other celebrations since it's based on the Japanese belief that an arrow shot once never comes back.  brides were given kimonos with this pattern for good luck during the edo era (1603–1868) to ensure they would not have to return to their original family home.  this pattern can have numerous meanings such as steadfastness or determination to achieve a goal, or a wish for the happiness of the bride.  there is a belief that a bow and arrow represent the fight against evil.  honestly, this meaning fits the narrative of the story.  utahime and gojo are unearthing the traitors that are feeding intel to the curse users and cursed spirits.  they are in the middle while the kyoto students surround them, which could mean that it’s their job as adults to protect these children from the grasps of evil slowly making itself more prominent.  do you also notice that the arrows are pointed toward utahime from gojo?  from all the images i’ve seen, the arrows are usually pointed downward.  what could this mean?  is gojo trying to protect her (in the future (?)) or does he have a big fat crush smh...

i think it’s a good time to mention utahime’s clothing.  she’s wearing miko attire.  miko are shrine maidens who were once thought to be shamans (you connecting the dots?).  in their service to shrines, miko used to perform spirit possession and takusen (in which the possessed person acts as a "medium" (yorimashi) to communicate the divine will or message of that kami (god) or spirit; also included in the category of takusen is "dream revelation" (mukoku), in which a kami appears in a dream to communicate its will).  this was back in the old days, of course.  to become a miko back then (shaman), one needed to have potential.  neurosis, hallucinations, odd behavior, and hysteria (HYSTERIA HELLO???) are some of the signs that a person is being called to shamanism.  when a miko is communicating with a kami (god) or spirit by acting as a medium, she is in a trance-like state, and so she must learn techniques to control herself when this happens.  chanting and dancing were used to accomplish this, so the girl was taught melodies and intonations that were used in songs, prayers, and magical formulas.  all of this could give us insight about utahime’s technique and explains why she’s good at singing :)  maybe she can’t control herself when she uses her technique which is why she isn’t shown using it because it should be used for dire situations.  i imagine being possessed by a spirit or god must consume a lot of cursed energy.  it makes sense that utahime and gakuganji wear traditional clothing.  they’re the staff of jujutsu high’s kyoto branch.  in chapter 0, kyoto is known as the sacred land of jujutsu.  it’s more traditional compared to tokyo.  if you want to learn more about miko, you should check out the wikipedia page!  

chapter 34

i swear he tries to annoy her every chance he gets.  i bet he sets a goal for himself to see how many times utahime lectures him about respecting his seniors every time he’s within the same vicinity as her.  at least he called her utahime-sensei!!!

chapter 40

this isn’t even a gojohime moment tbh...i just wanted to share a pic of them sitting next to each other HEHE.  why are they sitting next to each other anyway?  it’s not like they have assigned seating.

----

that was so long and i apologize for the gargantuan paragraphs you guys had to read through.  i’m writing this at 4 in the morning and i’m feeling borderline delirious so i apologize if there are any errors.  i’ll edit this when i have time <3

the next part should come shortly.

[1kook]

A COLLECTION  [ updated: 8 . 23 . 21 ]

— STATUS ONGOING — NO REPOSTS — ASKS under #ncouple ! — Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr

—NETFLIX & CHILL.

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.  warnings smut in the forms of grinding, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla unprotected sex, dirty talk misc use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc  word count 10.2k  posted june 12, 2020

—HULU & WOOHOO.

summary But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. warnings slight feelings of insecurity, smut in the forms of fingering, cunnilingus, cum eating, squirting, hand jobs, unprotected sex, riding, slight praise kink  misc if you’re not a Jersey shore fan honestly GET OUT, mentions of capitalism😡, more kind/understanding kook, basically a “what are we?” fic but silly, irresponsible emailing habits, its so dumb just read word count 6.3k posted july 4, 2020

—IMAX & CLIMAX.

summary The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings smut in the form of blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl (? kinda), daddy kink that morphs into ily kink misc  jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count 9.8k posted august 5, 2020

—KISSANIME & FOREPLAY.

summary You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings mentions of hentai, smut in the forms of cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 word count 8.2k posted september 1, 2020

—DISNEY+ & BUST.

summary There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.   warnings arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of humiliation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment (? idk lol), unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, the return of mean jk, desperate jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf misc angst, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count 13k posted september 9, 2020

—ESPN & BDSM.

summary You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.   warnings smut in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink misc kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count 12.7k posted september 14, 2020

—YOUTUBE & USE LUBE.

summary You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, tit fucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook misc domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count 8.7k   posted september 30, 2020

—VIKI & HICKEYS.

summary Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.   warnings a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries, jk is a good boy n I want him to be happy   misc there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide word count 16.3k posted january 14, 2021

—PEACOCK & SWEET TALK.

summary “I wanna watch Solange in Bring It On,” Jungkook smiles, and you have to wonder who exactly this blond man is and what he did with your teen-movie-hating boyfriend.   warnings smut in the forms of kissing, cunnilingus (eating out + fingering), light praise, a lil body worship, jk fat cawk, brief nipple play, playful jk, unprotected sex, riding and missionary, the jk hand kink, I love you kink, jk wants nudes, jk’s cheerleader fantasies mentioned, spit kink, light choking, jk has like a scent kink (?), mention of collars and pet play misc app developer jk becomes even MORE app developer-y, oc is anti-google, there's plot, a 2 year anniversary, Solange knowles appreciation, BLOND JK!!!, gets sappy for a sec, seahorse marriage mention, doyeon x joon side pairing, jk is disgustingly dreamy and oc is threatened by that fact word count 10.7k posted march 23, 2021

— CRUNCHYROLL & RAIL.

summary Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. warnings smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… misc fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality word count 8.7k posted may 21, 2021

—FUNIMATION & PROCREATION.

summary Never mind your upcoming wedding, this was perhaps the greatest moment of your life— the day Jungkook sought out an anime on his own. warnings kissing, smut in the forms of cunnilingus, cum eating, mentions of anal, doggy style, unprotected sex with the intention of pregnancy, spitting, hand holding<3 misc the wedding night, Doyeon strikes again, jjk watches  jjk, oh no not twins word count 9.1k posted july 31, 2021

—BOOMERANG AND BANG. 

coming soon

—COOKIES & CREAM.

summary Jungkook will watch a thousand cheesy Christmas movies if it meant making you happy. (And maybe having his dick sucked.) warnings smut in the form of blowjobs, face fucking, cum facials, fingering, overstim, double orgasm, r*mantic sex, riding, unprotected, cream pies, jk does this weird thing where he licks her face yeah idk, jk loves seeing his gf cry, jk has an obsession with jizz   misc jk pov !!, eggnog slander, jk hates xmas movies, oc dresses like a sexy mrs claus, Elf !!, jk is in loooove word count 7.1k posted december 23, 2020

— TUTUS & TIARAS.

summary your first pregnancy through the lens of your husband warnings smut in the forms of penetrative sex, sex while pregnant, unprotected sex, tit play, cunnilingus, mutual masturbation, sticking the tip in and jacking off/cockwarming?, creampies, nose kink (? like she grinds against his nose), infatuation with scent, frottage/grinding, lactation kink, titluvr jk [bass boosted] misc married ncouple <3, domesticity, jk pov, mood swings, pregnancy, GIRLDAD!JK, DILF!JK, pregnant!reader, jk’s kids are virgos its true  word count 10k posted august 23, 2021

— one.

summary Maybe Jungkook wasn’t always as cool and composed as you initially believed. But that’s okay, because you love him all the same.  word count 1.3k posted September 10, 2020

—two.

summary Even after all these years, all these doubts, and all this solitude that was really no one’s fault but his own, he still finds himself hoping that maybe you’ll be the one. word count 1k posted september 11, 2020

—three.

summary But Jungkook loves the sun. word count 1.5k posted september 12th, 2020

—four.

summary For the last ten minutes or so his mind has been bothered by one thing and one thing only— the hair that hung in his face. word count 800 words posted september 22, 2020

—five.

summary Startled and inexperienced, he can’t do anything but rub his hands over your back. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he murmurs, even though it’s not. word count 1.3k posted september 22, 2020

—six.

SUMMARY Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. WC 1.8k POSTED september 25, 2020

—seven.

summary And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan. word count 2k posted october 30, 2020

—eight.

summary You always do this— always ask for more. You take and you take until there’s nothing left for Jungkook to give. But Jungkook is the same.   word count 1.9k posted december 28, 2020

—nine.

summary “I think that, like— me and you? We’re like, totally destined,” you ramble, “you should, like, take my number! And maybe we can, like— Netflix and chill one of these days?” word count 2.2k posted january 8 2021

—ten.

summary See, there’s no one in this world who ignores his house rules more than you. Even worse, there’s no one on this planet who can make Jungkook ignore his own rules like you do. word count 1.4k posted february 14, 2021

—eleven.

summary You’re too bright, too… there. His shell is too small. word count 1.2k posted may 3, 2021

—twelve.

summary Anyway, if it was up to Jungkook, Kim Doyeon would not be a member of the Engagement Ring Committee. word count 1.4k posted may 8th, 2021

—thirteen.

summary Because for as much shit as you let him get away with, Jungkook is certain you’ll draw the line today.   word count 1k posted june 13, 2021

—fourteen.

summary Jungkook needs you to know that you can always count on him. word count 1.3k posted july 6, 2021

—fifteen.

summary It’s Jungkook’s teenage fantasy— being pushed down by a cheerleader. word count 3.1k posted august 9, 2021

— sixteen.

summary Your skin is warm and smells like sunshine. Jungkook can’t really explain it. (And also like the sunscreen you had doused him in earlier, but that isn’t as romantic.) word count 1.9K posted august 11, 2021

—seventeen.

summary She looks his way and suddenly Jungkook is nineteen again, in his dorm, listening to the first person he ever thought he loved telling him he’s too much to handle. word count 1.6k posted august 18, 2021

beautiful banners made for series!

cute and cozy gif by the lovely @ladyartemesia​ 

LASTLY: 

[sprinklesandshatters]

A Review on NCT 127′s 3rd Album <Sticker>

So NCT 127 just came back with their 3rd Full Album <Sticker> and this is my first 127 comeback since I became a fan last year! Neozone is such a special album for me as it was their first album that I explored entirely. I've known NCT as the group who never fails any expectations so I've kept mine up although I know they'll exceed it anyway. And guess what, they did! I absolutely love their new album hence this review~

This isn't a technical music review—as I am not a musician myself—but rather a listener's honest takes, goofy notes, and interpretation on each of the tracks in the album. I admit I've also struggled to build my own opinions on some of the tracks until I listened to them over and over again.

I have also heard there are mixed opinions on the title track <Sticker> and a lot says it's another acquired taste. But I think it's not just that, as it can be a grower, just like how most of NCT's songs were for me. Maybe after a few listens and a right passage of time, it will grow on those people. The bottom line here is, I like it a lot! 😛

So I listed down the songs according to their respective track numbers and followed each with a bulleted list of my opinions and interpretations.

(Viewer/reader discretion: before you continue, minors, do not interact as there are few 18+ contents under the cut. Thank you.)

1. Sticker

THEY DIDN'T JUST PUNCH A NEW NOTCH ON THE BELT LIKE THAT

THIS SONG SLAPS, LITERALLY SLAPS… AND WHIPS 

The recorder at the intro boyyyy I thought something was wrong but then I remember it’s NCT lmao

It already stuck in my head from my first listen from the Instagram audio.

With Taeyong opening the verse with his divine rapping, I knew I'm in for a new ride.

STICK-UH STICK-UGH STICK-UGHGHGH

To those complaining it sounding like noise music, imagine it sounding generic. I don't think it would fit as the title track. Not a b-track or in their repertoire, even. They are called NCT because they define the NEO in the music culture and music technology!

It honestly was an unorthodox, just like all of their title tracks, which I’m inherently here for.

Literally, no one does it like them!

The growls and the vocal flexes and adlibs! (You can tell it has Yoo Youngjin's brand.)

The crisp metronome sound that’s consistently ticking except for the pre-chorus and the dance break adds depth to the soundscape. I love how it’s used instead of the usual snaps.

The production quality blew my mind. Like how can someone think those melodies would sound so exquisite? CAN I CALL THEM GENIUS?

The piano at the back, oh my God—Yes! It adds this mystifying element to the song.

I'm not sure if it's a midi violin at the pre-chorus, but it added thrill to the song. It was a great transition from the bass line in the verses to the combination of the flawless harmony with the same instrumental.

"You treat me like a boy, like a grown-up child chasing a dream" JUNGWOO BABY NO MORE HUH

Taeil, Doyoung, and Haechan—the bridge vocal trinity!

But why the heck are they cowboys? I dig the concept, but why? LMAO

BTW GUNSLINGER MARK I’M ON MY KNEES YEEHAW

This is easily one of my favorite tracks from NCT 127's entire discography 💚

2. Lemonade

(⌐■_■)

Jaehyun starting off this song with his deep voice eee

The song opens to a verse oozing with chill confidence. They're like, yeah you're lurking because we’re cool.

This is such a huge slap to their haters. NCT's not chillin' like a villain, nah they're the main characters!

Well maybe they’re villains, but still ya not cooler than them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Funny enough how they could have just referred haters as simply lemons whose sour/bitter to the taste, but 127 squad's success is sweeter than all the haters' spiteful remarks so yeah, SIPPY SIPPY LEMONADE 🧃

"WOOF"

I might have just barked too wOW

Yuta’s vocals hooooO his voice just sounds so glamorous mhmm

Also Mark referencing their previous title tracks such as: Firetruck, Cherry Bomb, and Regular (it's Irregular in the lyrics) in his rap part 👌💅

I just love Mark's energy when he raps. HE RESOLUTELY BITES AND STRAIGHT UP EATS EVERY TIME HE DOES.

3. Breakfast

Now breakfast time, oh jeez!

AAAHAHFU—

Summer 127's bestie!

If Summer 127 talks about dancing all night long, Breakfast is the morning after.

You know what it is.

"Even if I gulp and drink you, it's not enough for me." oho Taeyong no you ha—STOP

Sexual innuendos aside, isn't it just sweet if someone tells you they'd want to have breakfast with you every day?  Okay maybe I'm melting at the thought 😩🙈💞

And I can see myself dancing to this song as I make breakfast (in the afternoon or at midnight bc I’m crazy)

This was an okay b-track for me at the first skim on the album, but boy it grew on me wildly.

Honestly one of my favorite tracks in this album.

4. Focus

Did I just invade a private call? LMAO

The analog voice filters make it like so.

Dude, this feels intimate in the level of eavesdropping a phone call between seasoned lovers. Then you realize you hear them whispering their kinks over the line and you're ooh, that's sexy! hfgklhfhf

My first listen to this, I almost went feral because,

"I can't wait to eat you…" when it's actually "I can't wait 'til we chill…" aahaha

"Baby call me when you want me." OKAY!

This sounds relaxing and chill. I'd love to play this on a late night drive or just before bed time along with Fly Away With Me, Sun & Moon, My Youth, and Long Flight.

Belongs to ‘make out session’ playlist  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

That was lowkey a playlist recommendation, huh?

I'd be kidding if I don't say I could touch myself while listening to this song AHAHAFGHFJFJ

I didn't know this would grow on me this much lol I love love LOVE THIS!

5. The Rainy Night

Ooh, the holy melancholy!

Piano at the intro—I knew I'd cry to this.

This song isn't just about break-up, but the heartbreak after one.

The yearning; the remnant pieces from the shattering of what was once there.

I think I crumbled from this one.

This hit so hard I felt like I fit in the shoes with the lyrics throughout the entire song.

What’s fascinating is I clearly forgot the title when I mentally said this sounds like a sad rainy day song from the first listen.

Something I’d turn up when it suddenly rains, just because I want to feel the blues.

Taeil and Haechan singing in lower register? I wanna cry :( they’re just one of the best vocalists in K-music industry right now.

Could have been also nice if they added Yuta to the vocals.

"My selfish heart who waits for you to come back," OKAY WHO HURT THEM?

And the fact that they sang it so good that it translated every ounce of the emotions well even before I looked up for English translations is the reason why I love this song too.

6. Far

Hmm… What the hell?! Do I like this? Wait...

Alright!

The jumpy vibe from the first verse to the pre-chorus set the mood for this song. It sounds merry and heavy. It was honestly too much to take until I’ve reached the chorus part.

Honestly, I think this song could fit NCT Dream better, as it gives off a vibe similar to Hello Future's b-tracks. If some credible source say this could have made HF’s track list, I might believe you too fast.

Also Dream’s Deja Vu where they go na nananananana na na na~

Playful yet confident! That’s what I mean!

As usual, the vocals are insane! Vocal flex from left to right!

I swear Jungwoo sounded a bit like Taemin at the second verse that I had to replay it hahaha

I love hearing Johnny as a vocalist! SM, how many signs do you need until you utilize his vocal talent???

Taeil's part where he sings, "go nuts, go nuts, 'til we go bust, go bust" IDEK BUT I SNORTED A LAUGH AT FIRST LISTEN HFCAHKFHK

Not my favorite, but still great though!

But wait it’s actually stuck in my head???

7. Bring The Noize

Yes, they never beat those noise music allegations

HERE'S SOME NOIZE, BITCHES

I love me some noisy percussions. AND THE BASS YO

This screams so much confidence!

The build up from the pre-chorus to the chorus—FIRE!

This song reminds me a lot of SuperM's Super Car, especially with the engine roar samples and the battle cry-like singing at the chorus.

JAEHYUN RAPPING? You mean Jaehyun the visual, the vocalist, the actor, the model, the funny dude, aka my everything?! (markie bb look pls look away for a moment)

THEY DELIVERED IT STRAIGHT FROM NEOCITY THAT'S SOME NCT MUSIC RIGHT THERE NO ONE DOES IT LIKE THEM

When I said I'd play Focus on a late night drive, and if I add this in the playlist, VROOM VROOM SPEED LIMIT WHAT

OUTTA MY WAY

“We got no shame” ouh TAEYONG’S FLOW IS JUST VERY HIM AND HE’S IN A LEAGUE OF HIS OWN

You know what's so clever about this song? It's how it ended with Mark's final rap without any instrumental, leaving you  standing there with a doppler effect-like post experience.

A super car on a super speed just whooshed past you and you look its way as it zips through the road. It's gone in an instant but you're floored dumbfounded at a sidewalk. That's how I describe this song.

8. Magic Carpet Ride

This song… Wow. Oh gosh it's so beautiful.

Their harmony in the chorus—it makes me want to kiss someone so passionately that I'd cry.

This makes me want to feel love that transcends the universe. Literally, just please take me on a magic carpet ride :(

The background harmonies too oh my goodness—HEAVENLY.

Jaehyun's voice is so warm and soulful it fits perfectly with songs of this genre.

Okay alright Doyoung Grande!

And Taeil makes me feel like I'm listening to old school R&B.

The first time I heard this from the track video, I can't stop replaying because it's just that great.

This makes me want to love. I think that sums it up.

9. Road Trip

This is such a soothing song for me, especially how I easily become nostalgic thinking about the road trips I've had.

Whenever I listen to this, my brain immediately conjures up thoughts of my ideal getaways. Gazing at the sky through the car window, stirring up from a nap in the middle of the ride, and   eventually reaching your destination.

Oh, to travel around anywhere... (curse you covid-19)

Okay that's it. I'M PACKING UP.

But where do I go—

I could also imagine Mark playing this on the guitar and the other members sing along together, something like that.

Just Wholesome™ vibes.

I love how it evokes such a nice emotion within me effortlessly.

This isn't my favorite, but I still love this.

10. Dreamer

Eyyyy such a refreshing song!

This song is so bright it makes me want to dance. I play this first in the shower!

It reminds me so much of Elevator (from Neozone)

The horns make it more lively I think!

Yuta and Jungwoo's voice suits lively songs like this.

The background vocal in low register in Taeyong's part in the first verse is so good ahhfhf

Taeil, the R&B vocal king you are...

There's this part where Doyoung and Johnny harmonized, that at first listen they seemed to clash, but it sounded actually fine after a few listens. Maybe it's just that I've never heard them do it before.

And I think it's Doyoung's laugh at the end of the bridge? Oh my goodness I really love this too!

11. Promise You

MY FIRST LOVE AND MOST FAVORITE SONG IN THE ALBUM!!!

The first time I heard this from their NCIT Sharehouse Sitcom, I fell in love with the song already.

It sounds like something you'd feel from a warm, welcoming hug.

The lyrics are so beautiful and endearing. It's definitely a be-there-for-you type of song that will touch your heart.

It definitely sounds like a promise.

A song about platonic intimacy.

This really fits to be the closing song of the album. It's like the end of it but holds a promise that says “see you soon.”

Because they cherish their fans like that.

It's also like I've watched a movie with a happy ending, where the camera pans up to the clear sky and this song starts playing.

Speaking of ending, I would love to hear them sing this as an encore stage in their concert. You know, that moment just before the stage lights die down at the end of the concert where they send final blows of flying kisses to NCTzens. Then you come home smiling and crying.

This wasn't supposed to be this long since I originally planned to write this with just simple phrases and emojis but I got too engrossed lol. I also meant to include my own ratings but I figured it’s pointless since I can’t really decide about them hahaha

I really enjoyed the whole album and I love how they're progressively defining what NEO means by breaking through standards. It's not NCT music if it doesn't make you say "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?" But then you realize it’s stuck in your head and you’re enjoying it already.

✨ OVERALL RATING: 127/10 💚

if you’ve reached until here, thank you for letting me share you a braincell or two 💞

[meili-sheep]

Got an au for an au, LEZGO--

Bully the Fatui Supernatural Au, supernatural in the fact that they are sUPERNATURAL BEING AND MONSTERS NOT THE SHOW NOT THE SHOW--

Id imagine that diluc would be a vampire-- i am a simp for vampire diluc and also i just think itd be fUNNY-- its like that one tumblr post where its like, the guy turns into a vampire but doesnt realize theyre a vampire because theyre already living like one AHAHA-- is usually always seen outside at night? Pale as fucc? Really specific in their drink choices? Ridiculously strong? Adelinde being sus with the cannibal bit? Its pERFECT-- NOONE EVER SUSPECTS BECAUSE HES JUST LIKE THAT NOW--

Yelan id imagine could have a Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde situation. Since its not a split personality, more of shapeshifting in a bottle. Id turn her into a legit shapeshifter but i think its cooler if shes just That Smart to create potions that can let her turn into anyone. It ties into her lore as well, since shes always in different personas and disguises and things. Also i dont want to turn her into a whopperflower, the three of them would be RELENTLESS with the plant jokes. Would turn her into some kind of chinese mythological being as well but dAMMIT THE IDEA CAME WHILE I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF MAKING NOODLES AND I CANT DO RESEARCH WHILE WATCHING THE POT--

Ayato would DEFINITELY be some kind of yokai. Im thinking some sort of fox yokai since a lot of them have a lot of connections to festivals and the like. Or maybe something much older, much more ancient than the two of them combined. Explains his encyclopedic knowledge of Inazuma since he was LITERALLY THERE when it happened. Also oooooo potential connections with Yae???

Vampire Diluc is honestly just correct. Though I personal prefer a dhampir Diluc. I maybe it's because he gives me Alucard vibes. So ya know he's half vampire in my book. But In this context i can just imagine his years away just opened up his hungry more and he's very very ashamed of it. But Adelinde would 100% become a ghoul for him and take care all of his needs for him.

So I have a lot of thoughts regarding Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Primarily because in the book, Hyde still was Jekyll. Just the part of himself Jekyll could never afford to express. And then he really just became addicted. I once heard Mr. Hyde described as Jekyll's reward. And I think that's a good way of putting it. BUT at the same time. With my love of the persona games and yu gi oh. You can see how I still like the other side of the coin with Hyde splitting off into his own person. AH, but enough of my English major stuff. From what I know of Chinese mythology, I believe there is a fox spirit that shapeshifts, and I feel that's pretty fitting for her. Foxes being known for being so cunning.

As for Ayato, I know there are quite a few spirits associated with water and rain in Japan, and I can see him being some kind of sea monster of Merman.

[dashingdcboys]

Batman’s cape

We all heard of Bruce using his cape to shelter his robins from danger, like glass shattering and bullets, so it’s only fact that it’ll become a habit eventually.

Dick:

The boy was the first to ever work alongside batman, and with his hyperactive tendencies he was the first to get up close and personal with the cape. He probably saw it as a glorified climbing wall when he was just a child.

Bruce, while on a stake-out with robin, suddenly feeling small hands grabbing fistful of the cape’s material as Dick climbs onto his shoulders. “I told you I couldn’t see anything from my post! Your pointy ears were in the way :((”

Bruce didn’t mind, of course he didn’t. It was Richard and that boy’s innately adorable, even though the boy’s pixie boots swinging in front of his face were blocking his view. 

Lastly, given Dick was wearing such short pants, Bruce would always make an effort to shelter the boy from harsh weather conditions during the winter. He still does this when Dick becomes nightwing, out of habit

Jason:

Jason used to be skeptical of the cape, thought it was just a big hindrance - tha Bruce was only using it for theatrics and that he’d be much better off without it. 

“Dick doesn’t wear a cape and he can blend into the shadows, shake off broken glass and bullets just as easily!”

That is until, the day they were saving a bunch of citizens from a housefire. They got trapped inside, Jason had given his oxygen mask to a civillian who was struggling to breathe, almost suffocating himself.

Bruce wrapped Jason in his cape, making an airpocket of oxygen which the fire can’t combust, until help arrives.

“Maybe that cape isn’t as stupid as I thought.” he mumbles in a muffled voice within his father’s cape.

Bruce would also do this when Jason’s having an outburst as a “time-out”

Tim:

The third robin fanboyed so hard when he first saw the cape and cowl. You think Dick saw it cool? This smoll boy in bright yellow, red and green had his eyes sparkling at the sight of it in person.

Immediately, he started coming up with theories of its material, and Bruce patiently answered every single question he had - even though Tim nailed the majority of the answers with his hypothesis. 

“Let me guess, kevlar? Interwoven to stop bullets from less than a meter away? Synthetic - so that it’s lighter than it seems. But also . . huh, kind of soft material on the inside. Why? It’s an outer accessory - it doesn’t even come into direct contact with your skin.”

Bruce, having alfred make that upgrade so that Dick and Jay could have snuggled up to him under his cape when they got cold : “no reason.”

The only thing Tim didn’t guess was its final and most important function: a parental tool.

One day Tim took his laptop on a stake-out to test out a new program he had developed, except, it had started to rain. So, naturally, Bruce sheltered the boy with his cape and they both grinned as the lighting of the entire building went out across the street, causing the goons inside to enter a panicked frenzy.

“rock paper scissors for who gets to crash through the window first?”

“you go, robin, you’ve earned it.”

Steph:

She was just happy to make it onto the team, honestly, and was very determined to prove her worth to Batman. Her overly talkative nature reminded Bruce of Dick, her short temper of Jason and her aberrant excitement of Tim. Thus the cape had multiple uses with this robin, but she wanted none of it.

She was surprisingly disciplined on the field, clearly acting overly serious to try reach this imaginary standard she set. 

“Don’t follow me until I give you the signal.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’m your mentor, not your boss.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“* sigh *”

So in order for her to relax, unwind a bit, he noticed how she always had a granola bar in her utility belt, and did the same. He could hear Steph’s stomach growl and reached for his utility belt under his cape.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for? We used quite a few smoke bombs in the previous attack huh? Maybe I have some spare -”

Bruce, pulling out a granola bar: “Sorry, it got crushed a little, I’m pretty sure it’s just dust in the packet now but here, stop taking up space for snacks in your own belt. Mine has much more space.” 

“:00 !!”

“How do you managed to not crush these delicate breakfast bars anyway?”

Steph, smirking: “It’s a delicate art . .”

“Huh, might use it for precision training.”

He also shelters Steph from the wind when she needs to take off her hairban and arrange her hair.

Dami:

He ses the cape and cowl as a prize to be earned - his birth right which he must work hard to obtain. The boy already had his own dark cape, with a hood, which suffices to keep him warm and hidden throughout the night. But Bruce’s is much . . bigger. He’s also tiny. I think you’ve already guessed where I’m going with this.

“They’re only expecting one of us, I say we practice maneuver eight.” The boy suggested with all seriousness.

“Good idea, robin. Get into position.”

Bruce stands alone in the middle of a giant museum which the riddler is keeping hostage until the commissioner brings the ransom money, goons pointing their guns at him from every nick and corner as the riddler remains safely locked away in one of the bank safes - letting his men do all the work.

“Bold move coming in here head on with no back up.”

Guns start blazing, and Bruce is busy dodging them while the riddler tries to escape.

Cue the riddler’s shocked expresssion when he hears a small arabian boy’s high-pitched war cries.

“Operation Robin Spring attack.”

And Dami easily finds his way past all the goons and dropkicks the riddler, then goes to free the hostages.

(Robin spring attack is called that, because well, it’s an attack where Dami literally jumps out from under Batman’s cape. But also “spring” because robins don’t usually appear in spring in most countries, and it’s a surprise attack.)

Thank you for listening.

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 1

And, here we go. Chapter 1 of this monstrosity (no pun intended) is now up and running below, on AO3, and on FF.net.

I'm going to be completely and 100% honest with everyone before you start reading, so please heed this warning! This first chapter is rough in the sense where it contains a bit of brutality and the death of a child. So far, this is the only gruesome chapter, and while the gore is NOT detailed, I still want my more sensitive readers to be wary.

This is the most action-packed fic I've ever written, and also the most expansive world I've ever built (in my humble opinion). With that being said, while the setting is a bit more on the historical side, there are plenty of modern references. For instance, not in this chapter but in future ones, a bathroom is just a bathroom. I don't mention plumbing or the lack thereof. My attention and energy was on more important things and I just didn't care about those details, lol. Additionally, a lot of slang, jokes, and references are fairly modern. Don't @ me (but also do). All-in-all, what I'm trying to say is I built my own damn world where there is no historical accuracy, so don't go looking for it, lol.

Unless otherwise stated, I plan to post each new chapter every Friday. So, yeah... I think that's all I've got to say.... have fun! Enjoy! Thank you for reading! Ily! Bon Voyage! Don't hate me!

----------

The responsibility is ours.

Kagome gasped as her feet slid in the mud, the small decline of the path she and her younger brother hurried down gradually becoming more slippery as the rain began to pour harder. Through the noise of the droplets and the sloshing of their boots, she heard a slight commotion; horses’ huffs, heavy feet, and boisterous men barking orders. Initially, she’d figured it was the village men ushering their families indoors, their livestock into barns, their carts and tools under shelter, and their firewood into a dry place as the storm reared its ugly head. The sunset sky was shadowed in gloom, thunder making it’s entrance in the far distance as it was bound to be banging on their doors and windows in no time. But, at the tug of her arm by her sibling, her attention was shifted to the actual cause of it all: Naraku’s henchmen.

“Again?” She shuddered resentfully.

“Third time this month.” Sota confirmed, clenching his jaw as he slightly tugged his sister behind his smaller frame. He was perfectly aware that he was only twelve, well in the know that he stood no taller than her shoulders, but he’d be damned if he did nothing because of it.

This time, there wasn’t a hoard of them. No, there were merely four, all of which were already off of their horses on the main path through their little village, making demands and threatening anyone who got in the way of their objective.

Throughout the last four and a half years since Naraku rose as a fearsome demon that easily brought down peaceful powers and attempted to control the world Kagome knew, she’d become more than familiar with this procedure. It wasn’t until just recently that they’d started coming more often than a monthly visit, though. And, it was no secret what, or who, they were after.

Her.

Anyone of her kind, really.

She was different. She was hunted. Those like her were supposedly powerful, but matters being what they were had caused anyone who shared a similar fate to subdue their abilities to the point of total lack of recognition of their true potential. At least, that’s how it was in most cases. Because, if they were found out, they were killed on sight. The reason for it was entirely unknown. Naraku didn’t just target them, though; he made everyone’s lives hell, especially if they stood out in a supernatural manner. So, while she figured there had to be a yet-to-be-identified reason, she felt it was safe to assume it was also just because he could. Maybe he didn’t like the threat of other, similar forces that could collide against him. Maybe he was egotistical enough to think he was the only deserving being. Whatever the case, he was cruel.

Kagome’s kind had several names through the decades - so many, she hardly knew the correct term for herself. At one point, ages ago, they were called banshees. The title didn’t make sense whatsoever, given their powers and what a banshee actually was, and the story was so old that she didn’t know where the justification even stemmed from, but it caused them to be feared, and for that, she honestly wouldn’t have totally minded if the name stuck around. They were called priestesses, but then it sounded too peaceful, too practiced, and it painted them as “good.” They were called witches, mages, sorceresses, but they committed no typical magic of that sort. Kagome didn’t know a single spell, nor did she have nearly enough time in the day to pack an array of herbs, spices, and what have you into jars that were sealed with candle wax - though she had caught wind that there were some older women of her kind with the ability to curse. Now, they were called conjurers. Their abilities were that of the spirit, aiding with protection, purifying dark forces - passively or forcefully, bringing forth light, and more she was sure.

In Kagome’s unpopular opinion, given what they could do and what they supposedly stood for, priestess was more suitable a term, but she also understood that there was nothing holy about the world they lived in.

There was no birthmark of the conjurer. There was no dead giveaway of their kind. The powers were gifted at random, as far as she knew, not passed down through lineage. The only thing Naraku and his followers seemingly had to go off of was that conjurers were born female.

Sometimes, they’d conduct their mission by way of senseless inspections. They’d rip apart the insides of homes looking for all the wrong things in all the wrong places. Truthfully, with how absurd they carried themselves, it was obvious they didn’t know the telltale signs they were looking for and were wasting their time. Which was what made it clear that for them to be so clueless, even Naraku didn’t know all there was that made up a conjurer. They were ignorant and they were blind, but they were also relentless and ruthless.

The days where they singled women out were the worst. Kagome, so far, was spared that cruelty, but that didn’t make it any better. It was usually the more mature, the elderly, that received the short end of the stick.

More often than anything, they’d line up every woman and girl in town and go down the rows one-by-one, stimulating their nerves in one way or another to see if they could get a “conjurer’s reaction.” Kagome could only guess that meant a sudden surge of purification power. It was the main trait conjurers were known for; but they were going about it wrong. Screaming in their faces, threatening everyone, or jostling them around a bit wasn’t going to get the demons purified, no matter how much she wanted to toss something their way. Of course, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell them that.

Every so often, they’d come in a pack and create havoc with violence. They said it was their way to pressure people into giving up any information they might have, but in all honesty, the smiles some of the brute demons wore said they were bored and simply wanted a little entertainment. Apparently, screaming and pleading were equivalent to a musical number in their bloodlust eyes.

Their own little group of demon slayers that resided in the village helped prevent this from happening when they could, which was why the henchmen came in numbers. The demon slayers fought for a sense of control, not to kill. They would only allow so much, but belligerent violence was not an option. It was obvious that, as of late, their village was a targeted spot, one that got a little more attention than neighboring towns, and for what reason, no one knew. They didn’t have the fighting power to win that sort of fight, though, and the leader of the group of slayers was sensible enough to understand this and explain it to the masses that questioned them. They were made up of a handful of men with rigorous combat skills they didn’t learn from home, refused to take recruits below a certain age, and could only train so many at a time. As much as they’d all love to retaliate and end things for good, intuition was telling them not to in that manner. Even Kagome felt that. Deep in her gut, she knew that even if they could, killing them would only put the people of the village in a worse position. This wasn’t something that would stop by taking out the underlings. Not at all. Far from it. Anyone who was paying attention could see that they’d need to exterminate the head honcho in order for any positive difference to be made.

Unfortunately for them this time around, their little pack of demon slayers had left on a request to take care of a troublesome demon a little ways off just that morning. And, listening to the henchmen now, seeing them in their dark leather, their cloaks, feeling their dangerous energies wafting through the streets of their little town, Kagome could tell that they were going to do whatever they wanted tonight, despite the fact that it was just the four of them. It wouldn’t be horrible, and would most likely be a lineup, but they were definitely going to take their sweet time and see who they could break.

“There’s still time. They haven’t noticed you. We can hide you.” Her younger brother said, his tone more on the convicted side as opposed to suggestive. He should have known she wouldn’t have gone for it, though. So long as every other woman and girl had to stand in front of their villainous promises and vile breath, so long as her mother had to keep a straight face, Kagome would always stand there with them. She’d made a promise to her brother, her older cousin, and especially her mom that she’d never willingly out herself for no reason, but she just couldn’t bring herself to hide when everyone else had to stand through their harassment. She swore that if the demons were ever convinced an innocent was a conjurer, that was the reason to give herself over.

Never would Kagome allow another to mistakenly go down in her stead.

No one but her family knew of her powers, and until necessary, it would stay that way. According to her cousin, the more people that knew, the increased danger she was in.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She shook her head, minding her steps through the small slope of mud as she gently pulled her arm out of Sota’s grip.

“Miroku would say the same thing if he were with us.” He argued.

“Yeah, well he’s not. In fact, he’s probably getting himself into trouble by picking a fight with one of those goons.”

“Kagome, I have a bad feeling about this. Come on, just listen for once.”

“Okay,” She stopped, turning around to challenge his look. “Say something bad is going to happen. Knowing these assholes, you really think my absence will stop that?”

“No, but -“

“Right. They’re going to do something no matter what, correct?”

“Kagome -“

“And then what?”

“And then they’re wrong, but they didn’t get you.”

“How is that fair to the person they might hurt?”

“That person isn’t my sister.”

“What if it’s mom?”

Sota’s eyes slighted to the side, a heated huff leaving his lips just before he begrudgingly sealed them. His jaw clenched minutely as his head gave a little shake, brown eyes once more meeting his sibling’s. “Miroku and I will protect her.”

Kagome gave a fed up smile, sighing, rolling her eyes, and turning back on her heel to continue toward the main path. Families came out of their homes dressed in cloaks as they prepared to, once more, be harassed until Naraku’s men exhausted themselves, husbands and male relatives holding resentful expressions as they guarded their female family members until they couldn’t any longer.

“Kagome!”

“Sota, quit it. The louder you are, the more suspicious we become.” She quietly warned. Kagome heard her brother’s aggravated grumble before he jogged forward to catch up, his demeanor holding much like every other male in the village.

No one’s feet rushed toward the excitement. The tension of the town was up so dramatically that Kagome could physically feel the crushing weight of it all, the anxiety as they made their way closer to their disgusting visitors was causing her stomach to bubble and waver, and her throat constricted nervously as she and Sota finally met up with the crowd, her brown eyes scouring over shoulders to scout out her family. Sota’s hand encircled her wrist firmly, tugging her to the right as he found them and guided her over. Miroku stood tall in front of their mother, brows noticeably creased and indigo eyes straight ahead until he’d caught their movement in his peripheral vision. Immediately, his posture squared further, as if enlarging his shoulders so that he’d be able to successfully hide both Kagome and his aunt behind his frame. Her mother held out her hand for Kagome to take as soon as they were close enough, a peaceful smile unsurprisingly gracing her lips while she pulled her in, shoulder-to-shoulder. Somehow, no matter the circumstances, she always did her best to calm Kagome’s nerves with the simplest of sweet gestures. Sota took his spot before them, influenced by Miroku’s stature as he replicated it.

Allowing herself a brief moment, Kagome bowed her head further, bracing it on her older cousin’s shoulder. She shut her eyes, inhaling slowly, deeply, attempting to release her trepidation with a long and heated exhale before composing herself and straightening out.

“- But this is too much! Why the hell are you back again!? There’s no conjurer in our village! Don’t you fucking get that by now!?” A man shouted, livid, and it was evident she and her brother had missed the beginning of the argument playing out in the center of the uneven circle created by people.

“Get the fuck out of the way!” One of Naraku’s men yelled back.

“Not until you tell us why you’re back for the third time!”

“Would you rather we made ourselves at home!?” Silence from the opposing man answered his question clearly. “That’s what I fucking thought.” He spewed, and Kagome could hear the spittle fly out as he cursed. His attention returned to the general public, his tone shifting from vicious to gruff as he made his command. “Only girls ranging from ages five to twenty, line up! Now!”

Increased unsettlement coursed through the crowd, mothers and fathers clinging to their young daughters, little girls’ fearful whimpers polluting the air as they hid their faces in their parents’ legs, and even Kagome’s own mother’s hand tightened her grip as a breathy gasp left her lips - understanding that this meant her eighteen year old daughter was being sent into the fire without her. They were narrowing down, slimming the numbers, and the small smiles on the villains’ faces made Kagome assume that something last time may have tipped them off to lessen the demographic.

“What do I do?” Kagome whispered to her cousin, failing in her attempt to hide the sudden panic striking her.

“Nothing. You do nothing.” He urged quietly, shifting his head to look into his younger relative’s eyes. “Listen, Kagome, treat this like routine -“

“This isn’t routine.”

“Treat it like it is. Keep your head down.”

“If they -“

“No.”

“But, they’ll -“

“Kagome, no. You made us a promise.” Miroku reminded firmly, knowing exactly where her mind was traveling. In the case of an incident, which there seemed to be a higher chance of this time around, she may need to intercede.

She took a deep breath, straightening her face as much as possible so Naraku’s men wouldn’t grow suspicious as they impatiently yelled again for the girls to gather before them. “If this means they suspect something -“

“It may just be a tactic they’re using. For all we know, they have nothing and could leave here with the same. So, treat it like routine. Okay?”

“Promise.” Sota insisted during Kagome’s silence. The mens’ barking got louder, more demanding, as did the crying of little girls being pulled away from their parents. With the building weight in her chest, like a liquid filling her lungs quickly, the density making it almost impossible to take full breaths of air or move without falling forward, all she could muster was a meager nod before forcing herself to walk out. Miroku and Sota both leaned to opposite sides to part their shoulders for her to move through, her mother’s soft hand still lightly holding her own until she was far enough for their fingers to slide away from each other’s.

At most, there were about twenty girls in that age range to offer, and Kagome’s brown eyes drifted over the uneven row of heads as she approached, finding her friend in the mix trying to calm the little girl beside her. Sango glanced her way, as if feeling Kagome’s eyes on her, giving an apprehensive grin and waving her over.

“Ready?” Kagome asked, though it was completely rhetorical. It was just habit for these things. It was unavoidable, unexpected, and overall, impossible to be ready for. But, when they bounced the question off of each other, it was like one final reminder to stone.

Sango knew. Sango and her family were the one exception to the familial rule. She was Kagome’s closest friend and Miroku’s significant other. She was more than trustworthy. And, more importantly, had known since Kagome accidentally found out, herself, as a kid. Because, that’s how it was being a conjurer. You weren’t born knowing. You didn’t have an outward appearance that proclaimed your status much like demons did. It was always an accidental happenstance; in her case where she put a little too much oomph into her bow and arrow lessons and purified the evil - and life - right out of a passing crow demon after missing her target.

She remembered the feeling of total surprise, then tremendous fear because she thought she’d be in a lot of trouble. Kagome had literally thrown her bow to the ground like the thing, itself, was the culprit of the power. Miroku was gawking, Sango was covering her mouth with both hands, and their dad’s shared an identical, tight-lipped expression. Her papa was motionless for an overwhelmingly-tense sixty seconds before shifting his wide, curious eyes to her.

“Did you know you could do that?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, daddy.” Kagome innocently answered, but she could feel the red, hot heat in her face from her lie. She was awful at those when it came to the people she was close to. Still was to this day. Give her a stranger and she could keep it straight, but in the face of friends and family, she cracked almost too easily. It was a guilt thing.

But then he’d laughed, ruffling his little girl’s hair before reassuring her that it was okay. He said they’d just have to go about her training a little differently from that point on to make sure accidents like that didn’t keep happening, and it was only because of him, his adventurism, his accessibility to knowledge from his travels, that she even discovered what she was in the first place.

Back then, though it wasn’t quite as dangerous to exist as a conjurer, her papa had still suggested they keep her abilities under wraps. She distinctly remembered binding that with a pinky promise after Sango’s dad had a private discussion with her own. Maybe it was because Sango’s dad was even more educated with the world, and knew the potential hardships that could come her way, being the leader of the demon slayers that he was - and still is. Honestly, the reasoning was hard to determine now because she didn’t put much thought into it when she could and should have. Being the young, spunky, loyal girl that she was, if her dad wanted her to keep a secret and held out his pinky to her, that was all the reason Kagome needed, and nothing pleased her more than making her papa proud. And, when he and her uncle were fatally wounded in a demon attack on their village, even though Naraku’s name had never once yet been muttered near her ears, he still made her do one final pinky promise to him saying, “Protect yourself for me, my little bird. Keep it in its cage. I love you so much, Kagome.”

She wasn’t even a teenager when that had happened. There was a part of her that wondered here and there if he was secretly clairvoyant, or if he merely studied the patterns throughout history of people of her kind and wanted nothing more than to keep her safe and make her life as easy as possible, given the reputation they had, their ever-changing titles, and the ignorance others had of their nature. If only he knew where she was now. Would he still ask his little bird to stay in the cage while the door was wide open?

“Ready. You?” Sango returned, standing straight and allowing the little girl to cling to her leg.

“Ready.” Kagome breathed.

Those not lined up hesitantly backed away, creating space and growing agonizingly silent as they seemingly held their breaths for those that were chosen. Kagome hated when they did that. It was like she could physically feel the onlookers’ anxiety, and it was the last thing she needed on top of that of those actually subjected and her own.

The four men walked back and forth, up and down the two rows of girls, criminal eyes taunting them with silent threats and menacing grins. It was creepy, but no longer was it fear-inducing. Kagome had a bad habit of not shying away anymore. Sure, she was nervous beyond belief, but the last thing she was afraid of were their snarls, scarred and dirty flesh, and crooked teeth. That, of all things, was the least intimidating factor for those who were calloused to the routine.

But, when an abrupt instruction was given by the leader, her already-loose expectations of “routine” fell apart completely.

“Hold out your left hands, palms up!”

Confusion soared through every individual, and Kagome met Sango’s brief side glance, minutely comforted by the fact that she wasn’t the only one without a clue as to what was going on. Questions weren’t allowed though, and even the little ones were well aware of that, so as the small group of men demanded everyone shut up and do it, all outward bafflement dissipated.

Slowly, Kagome raised her left palm, her arm outstretched, swallowing as she willed the slight trembling to cease. Brown eyes searched quickly as she waited for whatever to begin, weeding through the crowd and finding Miroku already pinning her with a stare. It was wary, but hard, his jaw visibly tense.

The sound of an unsheathing blade was unmistakable, and immediately Kagome’s attention bounced to her left where the leader danced the grip of a knife in his fingers, his lips curved downward into a permanent frown. The first girl in line couldn’t have been any older than fifteen, noticeably shaking as her anxious stare bounced from the man to the blade.

A man in the crowd began shouting, stirring, pushing forward through the heap of villagers to reach the forefront, “Hey! No! What are you going to do!? That’s my daughter; what are you going to do!? Don’t you dare touch -“ Abruptly silenced by a defensive elbow to the diaphragm, gifted by an all-too-fast demon.

The young teenager shuddered, not sure what to worry about first as the leader gave her no moment to react, grabbed her hand, extended it further, and gave a small slice with the tip of his knife to the center of her palm. She winced, a whimper easily escaping her mouth from the sharp pain, tears leaking from her eyes quicker than the blood that seeped from her laceration. And then he grabbed her hand in his, sealing their palms together as he stared her in the eyes for a moment. She was utterly terrified, wanting to pull away while knowing she shouldn’t, but as nothing else happened, the man released her, murmuring to stay in line as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his blade, his hand, then moved onto the next.

Kagome’s attention snapped back to Miroku as it dawned on her, his eyes holding the same idea as he gave a steady but stern shake of his head in retort. They were looking for the untrained conjurers. The conjurers who weren’t skilled in holding back. Everyone was already scared, and the wound inflicted a heightened sense of fight-or-flight. Then their hands gripping the victims’ - their demon hands against the victims’… they were working to spark a purification reaction, and they were going about it right this time. It wouldn’t be strong enough to kill them, nothing that small or unsuspecting would be, but it would hurt - much like the notorious fairytale of a vampire taking a quick step into the sunlight before swiftly turning around and heading back inside. And, that was all they needed.

Unbeknownst to everyone but Sango and Miroku, Kagome wasn’t completely helpless. Not only was she well-versed in subduing her powers, but alternatively speaking, she could knock a guy completely on his ass. She’d practiced. She’d practiced for hours at a time for several years now to see what she could do, what sort of strength she possessed, all on the far outskirts of the village, hiding near caves with only her friend and cousin who'd agreed, despite promises and secrets, that they all should try to be prepared for anything. By no means was she an expert, but she could handle her own for the most part and a situation like this was something she’d been well-conditioned for, for quite some time now.

Especially since she’d first received that message in a dream.

The responsibility is ours.

Whatever it meant, no matter how bleak it felt, it was a no-brainer that Kagome couldn’t go on without some sort of knowledge of her own potential.

She took a shallow breath, diverting her gaze to the goon before her as he happily took out his own blade, the other two following suit as they set out to narrow the time this was going to take. He stepped forward, grasping the wrist of the frightened and resistant girl beside Sango, who Sango had to hush into calming, telling her it would be done quickly. When nothing gratifying came from the occurrence, the man moved on to Sango, pinning her with a glare that she challenged right back. She hardly flinched at the slice of her skin, brown eyes never leaving the demonic ones of her assailant. When she shrugged a brow as he clasped their hands together, Kagome could practically see the heat rising in the man’s body language, quickly fuming from how audacious Sango was acting - which Kagome couldn’t help but respect, not knowing if the chuckle she forcefully swallowed was one of matched humor or nervousness.

The man threw Sango’s hand to the side, merely wiping her blood from his palm and blade on his pants before vehemently grabbing Kagome’s and extending her arm completely, bringing an inadvertent gasp to escape her throat. As the tip of his knife pierced her palm, dragging slowly to create a burning gash - one larger than Sango’s, so she suspected her nonchalant pass of amusement wasn’t as admissible as she’d thought - Kagome couldn’t stop the hiss that slid off her tongue, her brows creasing and jaw dropping as crimson dripped from her hand to the mud. With a clap, he pressed his palm to hers, fingers squeezing her small hand with unmitigated pressure. She felt a flurry in her abdomen, her diaphragm, her chest, warmth that drove her power, and that was her cue to hold her breath, to pretend everything was fine, to tell herself she was safe and trick her mind when she really wasn’t. She pretended she was holding Sota’s hand - the first person that came to mind, and the least intimidating one that she knew. Sota as an adult whose hand was finally bigger than hers. She couldn’t help but feel this was a huge insult to her younger brother, so she subconsciously apologized as she continued her visualization. It was like a lump built in her throat, the kind that grew too difficult to swallow, but she also felt completely in control, returning the man’s stare before he dropped her hand and moved onto the girl beside her.

“Shh,” Sango gently hushed the small child. “Everything’s fine now, but you have to stay quiet. Give me your hand.”

Kagome slowly let out her captive breath, the air she sucked in to replace it cold and not the least bit comforting despite the danger she’d evaded. She kept her palm face up but closer to her heart, cradling it for a moment as she tried to ignore the searing pain, diverting her attention to Sango and the kid. Her best friend was already looking up at her, using the long sleeve of her shirt to clean the blood from the girl’s hand and apply pressure so it’d stop bleeding, never minding the bleeding of her own palm. Thankfully, it only looked to be a little knick, and Kagome wondered if the creep of a demon that had handled them secretly had a soft spot for children.

“You okay?” Sango silently mouthed to Kagome. She nodded in reply, picking up the bottom hem of her own shirt and pressing it to her wound.

A sudden, deep, and broken yell punched through the air as one of the demons stumbled away, his hand yanked back, fingers furled in offense, and face twisted in rage. A little girl shrieked as he lunged forward, grabbing her by the collar of her cloak and pulling her out of the line, her feet stumbling to keep up as she cried apology after apology.

No. Conjurers weren’t common; now more than ever. How could there be two in one village? Especially one as small as theirs? How could there be more than one not even miles apart? How did Kagome not know? Didn’t conjurers have the ability to sense one another? She’d only assumed that was the case because of the seemingly-prophetic dreams she’d been having; because of the woman that had been coming to her in those very dreams. It was a weak hypothesis to go off of, but it was the only answer that made sense to Kagome. But, now there was a child being dragged into the center of where the town congregated, begging and pleading for her life while her mother screamed from the sidelines where she was being held at bay, and Kagome was none the wiser to her existence.

She wanted to yell that they were wrong, but how could they have been? It was a physical test. The accidental reaction of her powers was a dead giveaway. They couldn’t even lie their way out of this, or pretend the allegation was false. She was a conjurer. And they were about to kill her.

Kagome’s heart twisted and bunched painfully, that hard lump once more building in her throat, a murmured, “no,” barely leaving her parted lips, and her brown eyes caught a pleased grin on the approaching leader’s face that, just moments ago, seemed stuck in a scowl. He twirled his dagger in his fingers before kneeling down in front of the weeping girl.

“Found you.” He snickered, plunging the blade into her abdomen.

“No!” Kagome gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth in shock. The village was alight with terror, screams, cries, the rumble of defeat, the wailing of a grieving mother striking over all other sounds. Still, she was withheld from her little girl, reaching for her over the shoulder of the unforgiving demon who kept her away.

The knife was yanked free of the girl’s gut and she fell to her knees, her hands braced before her stomach as crimson crawled out, staining the front of her rain-soaked dress. Small hands weakly pressed into her abdomen, the wide look of horror, of pain, of fear etched into every inch of her expression as she gasped tremblingly. All too easily, the leader stood and walked away, not an ounce of remorse displayed.

“She was… she was just a kid.” A sympathetic village man stated morosely. “She wasn’t even ten yet.”

“She wasn’t dangerous!” Another testified.

“Would you like to be next?” A demon threatened, thinking his raised voice would retain order.

Kagome could hardly breathe, tears burning and brimming at her lower lid. All she could think to do was try to stop the bleeding, try to save the child, her feet moving on their own accord as she rushed out of line. Beyond the anger building in the crowd, the yelling growing louder, and the intense disturbance increasing rapidly and overwhelmingly, Kagome heard her name called multiple times. But, she couldn’t bring herself to listen, to stop, as she skidded to her knees in the mud, her arms catching the little girl as she fell forward. Her mother was finally freed, racing over and falling to the ground at her child’s side, helping through her weeping to lay her on her back.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here.” She soothed as best as she could, hovering over her daughter's face so the rain wouldn’t hit it, shaking fingers pushing sopping hair from her cheeks.

Kagome grabbed the length from the girl’s cloak that stuck out on her side, bunching it and pressing firmly into the wound. The choked gasp that came from the kid was agonizing, and Kagome apologized profusely, blinking away her own tears as she whipped her head around to take in the rousing group of people, fury evident in their tones, in their bodies, as they returned threats with the offending demons.

“Where’s the doctor!?” Kagome asked as loudly as she could, her soaked, dark hair whipping her in the face as she spun her head around to try and find their town's self-proclaimed physician. “Help! We need help!”

“He isn’t here; he left for herbs yesterday.” Sango informed as she dropped down beside Kagome.

“And he still isn’t back!?”

“The storm must have delayed him.” Sango shook her head in response, her brows creased together as she glanced over her shoulder to quickly mind the budding commotion before turning her worried expression back toward the crying child. “What can I do? How can I help?”

“I don’t - I don’t know.” Kagome stammered, her breathing growing heavier as she panicked, noticing the blood was barely halting, the stain in the girl’s dress expanding and absorbing through the cloth she pressed against the wound.

“Apply pressure!” Miroku instructed when he slid to his knees in the mud on their opposite side, careful of the girl’s mother.

“I am!” Kagome cried.

“Stay with me, baby! Stay with me! I’m right here, look at me!” The woman coo’d, sniffling and gasping with her tremors while the comforting smile never left her lips.

“Hey! Leave her! Let her die, or we’ll kill you too!” One of the vile men demanded, though his shouts went ignored, easily drowned out by the encroaching, enraged men who finally appeared fueled enough to physically challenge them. Kagome could only hope they’d hold the demons back so they’d have the chance to save her.

“Here, let me see!” Miroku pushed Kagome’s shaking hands away, pulling aside the cloth of the cloak to take a peek at the wound in her stomach. Kagome had to look away then, the sight of the thick blood seeping through too much to handle. Instead, she focused her attention on the little girl, crawling up to hold her cold, bleeding hand.

Scared, pained, blue eyes focused on Kagome as she took shuddering breaths, her chest convulsing slightly as her small voice broke with her cries. Little fingers softly gripped her hand in return, and the tiniest of smiles curved her lips upward, light beginning to dim from her irises.

“Miroku!” Kagome urged. She glanced back at him and noticed the hopeless expression on his face. One that claimed there was nothing anyone could do. Her heart dropped, a nauseating weight filling her stomach. Quickly, she turned back to the little girl, leaning an inch closer. “Kikyo and the other conjurers, they’re gonna win, okay? We’re gonna win. I promise.”

“Who’s…”

“You! What did you just say!?” Heavy steps sloshed in the mud toward them, his voice low, growling, dangerous.

Kagome had spoken up to be sure the girl had heard her over the yelling, but she hadn’t realized that it could have been heard by anyone else. She didn’t think about the ramifications. She didn’t think. She’d just wanted to fill the child with some form of final hope. What was wrong with that? Was it the fact that she’d said Naraku would fall?

She’d hardly had enough time to turn and react before she was grabbed by the hair and lifted to her feet, yelping as she was dragged back and away.

“You mentioned Kikyo!” He exclaimed, giving a forceful yank as Kagome loudly gasped from her constant stumbling, the pain on her scalp, the fear racing through her. In the thick of it, she’d forgotten Kikyo wasn’t a person who was widely known. She’d forgotten Kikyo was a secret beacon of hope to the surviving conjurers, who appeared in dreams and spoke in riddles.

“No!” Was all she could manage to reply, screamed brokenly, heard clearly throughout the number of villagers around as the action died down and all attention was on them.

“How do you know her!?”

She yelped again, forcefully pulled backward and released to only trip and fall over some tools.

“Tell me, wench!” He demanded, picking Kagome up by her throat and slamming her back against the wall of a home.

“I don’t!” She adamantly swore, still able to speak. His grip was there, but not choking.

“Liar!” He said, slapping her hard across the face. “How do you know Kikyo!?”

“I heard of her in passing!” Kagome cried, wincing from the sting before she was forced to look at him again.

“I find that hard to believe.” He growled, inching closer to her face. His hold on her throat tightened, cutting off air, thick fingers pinching painfully into the sides of her neck. “Where is she?”

“I - I don’t know.” She sputtered, wheezed, her tears hot as they glided down her face. The rain was nothing but a drizzle now, though the distant sound of thunder roared angrily. She was both cold and hot, her lungs begging for air as his hand pushed further against her windpipe.

“Stop it! Let her go!” Miroku barked, and his presence was just enough to distract Naraku’s henchman and cause him to release some tension from her throat. Kagome greedily sucked in as much air as she could, though he still constricted his fingers against her. It was like breathing through a straw.

Her cousin stood there, dark hair sticking to his temples, bloodied hands braced before him as if to reason. “She doesn’t know anything; she just told you!”

“Oh, another tough guy?” A demon behind him chuckled. “A little scrawny for that, don’t you think?”

“You have me wrong, I don’t want to fight. Release my cousin, and we’ll back away peacefully. She meant no harm.”

“The harm was done when she stepped out of place to save the girl!”

“She was a child!”

“She’s a conjurer! She has no place in this world!”

“She did! She did have a place in this world, and we all know it!”

“You best shut the fuck up, boy.” The leader said from the sidelines. “Word may carry that you’re on their side. Now, you wouldn’t want that. Would you?”

“Tell him to let go of her.” Miroku sternly ordered.

“Back off.”

“Let her go!”

“Suit yourself. Have some fun.” Their leader flicked a finger at the two other demons, allowing them to do as they pleased.

Miroku hissed a low, “Fuck,” before dodging a hit from one of the two demons enclosing in on him. He was able to throw one of his own, nailing an ugly bastard in the face before he was grabbed from behind, bulky arms wrapping under and over his shoulders to hold him in place. The other demon was eager while he arrogantly approached in front of him, smiling as he punched Miroku in the stomach.

“Stop! Miroku!” Kagome squirmed against her own offender’s grasp, her instincts beginning to kick in as she felt a wild sensation build in her veins. Something righteous whispered the power she held in her ear, told her to use her abilities to save her cousin, further fueling the heat that made her forget about the nip in the air.

“Kagome, don’t!” Miroku coughed, pinning her with his indigo gaze before his eyes pinched shut from a swift hit to his diaphragm, blood dribbling over his bottom lip and down his chin.

Control sucked Kagome back to the present, the earnest crackle of Miroku’s voice ringing in her ears and overpowering the one that told her to fight. The grip against her throat tightened again, closing off her air passage as red eyes turned back to her, the lines of his frown deep.

“Don’t, what?”

Kagome wasn’t sure if he actually expected an answer or not, but he’d made it physically impossible. She clawed her nails along the thick skin of his large hand, trying to pry him away so she could breathe. It was dire that she didn’t use her powers; she understood this. But, as the adrenaline raced violently through her body, it was growing increasingly harder to keep it subdued. She’d be killed in a heartbeat; she’d already witnessed their unforgiving lack of hesitation. Her mother and younger brother would have to watch. Her cousin, too. She’d promised everyone she would protect herself, and she'd promised herself that she would protect them. Above all that, a different, deeper, more rational voice spoke to her, drowning out the one that told her to take action just a moment ago, telling her that her fight was meant for somewhere else. Something bigger. She could practically feel the breath hitting her ear, urging her of the importance. It told her to swallow it, hold it at bay, keep it buried no matter how badly it burned for release at the underside of her flesh. Keep it in its cage.

Finally, the demon released his tight hold on her neck, opting to firmly grip the front of her shirt. His upper lip twitched in disdain while Kagome sputtered, and coughed, and gasped for air to fill her lungs.

“Don’t, what?” Naraku’s henchman repeated, this time a little lighter, and it was impossible to miss that he was visibly analyzing for any sort of body language that could tip him off.

“Fight.” Kagome attempted to say, though her voice came out incredibly raspy and broken.

“Like I’d be worried about what a girl as small as you could possibly do to me. Unless,” He cocked a brow. “I’d have a reason to worry. Unless, you’re a conjurer.”

She shook her head, scared to look away from him, hyperaware of any movement she made in that moment. She was absolutely terrified of letting him know she was lying, but what if her stiffness was what told him the truth? What if the vehemence behind her objection was exactly what he needed to convict her? Where was the happy medium? Was there one? Kagome’s bottom lip quivered, resisting the impulse to glance Miroku’s way when he continuously coughed, the sound slightly gurgled, scared the shift in her eyes would be mistaken for something else.

“How else would you know who Kikyo is?”

“I - I h-heard of her in p-passing.” Kagome said, still unable to use her voice, and she wondered if the strangulation was enough to damage her vocal cords or if her anxiety was the cause of it. “I-In a nearby town. By - by the r-river.”

The demon yanked her forward and slammed her back against the wall, the back of her head smacking the wood painfully. “Are you a fucking conjurer, wench!?”

“No!” Kagome wheezed, releasing her own hold on his fist to emphatically present the blunt cut on her palm to him before she repeatedly smacked it against his forearm, smearing hers and the little girl’s blood, showing him the exact reaction - or lack thereof - they were looking for in coming today in the first place.

“Let - let her go.” Miroku was on his knees, breathing impaired, holding his side with one hand while the other braced his weight in the mud. “She’s not a conjurer. She’s not. She can hardly even hunt. I have to take her everywhere. There’s no way anyone that knows her would believe she’s one of them.”

“Being a conjurer doesn’t have anything to do with hunting, boy!” One of them spit.

“Well, how the hell would anyone know!?” Sango shouted from the side, still seated on her knees beside the child. Her cheeks were flushed furiously, and her hands were held out inches from her chest, palms up, covered in blood that she was afraid would never wash off. Their attempts were in vain and the mother wept, clinging to her little girl, her face buried in her daughter’s still chest. “Conjurers are practically going extinct; you’re all winning! We don’t know what they can do! They probably don’t know what they can do! Conjurers either have to hide to save their lives, or they don’t even know they are one yet!”

For a brief second, Kagome allowed herself to glance beyond Sango’s head, finding her family. Her mother’s hands were cupped in front of her mouth, trembling as she never removed her eyes from her daughter. Her brow was creased deeply, concern etched so thick you’d think an artist may have been too heavy with their pen. Kagome couldn’t tell if her mom was breathing slowly, or if she was holding her breath. She couldn’t tell if her mom was saying a silent prayer, or if words could barely form in her mind as she had no choice but to watch the scene unfold. Her mother had to witness a daughter torn away from another; a daughter who held the same, supernatural fate as her own. Kagome could only imagine the stress that currently laced her mom’s system.

Before her stood both her brother and Sango’s, Sota bearing a wide expression, neck tense and lips parted uncertainly, and Kohaku wearing a more cautious grimace, watching apprehensively. Knowing her onlookers were nervous, worried, should have been the very thing to cause Kagome to proceed carefully, but instead it served as the switch that flicked on in her head. She was tired of living like this, done with the dreadful thought that this was their normal. This wasn’t going to continue.

She’d been waiting for a sign, waiting for her cue. Bags were packed and weapons were stored in a hiding place where they’d been training outside of the village. Miroku, Sango, and she had discussed a while ago that they were going to eventually leave together and find the called-upon conjurers, and join Kikyo to fight against Naraku. It was their - the conjurers’ - responsibility. As much as she wanted to know why, pleaded with the apparition of this seemingly all-powerful conjurer time and time again for an answer, at this point it was no longer deemed necessary. Not anymore. Kagome figured she’d hear this magical invitation telling her when and where - which was farfetched but a fair assumption given she barely had anything to go off of. She even thought she might have to wait a while longer until she was stronger, more trained in her capabilities, before Kikyo gave her some form of clear signal instead of these ominous, detail-lacking prophecies in her subconscience that she was currently getting every other night. But now a tick in her core, an itch in her chest, a steady deepening in her resolve told her the time was now. Screw waiting, screw messages, screw rolling over, screw self-pity, and screw Naraku. If he wanted a fight, if this was his initiation all along, his declaration of war, then he was finally going to get one.

“If that’s the case, bitch, then what were you telling the girl?” The demon holding her collar jerked her slightly to demand her attention, receiving it with vexation.

“I,” Kagome took as stable a breath as she could, her throat aching and voice pathetically weak, clearly evident now that it was due to the ruthless strangling she’d received. “I told her Kikyo would kill Naraku.”

“And, why the fuck would you say that?” He asked, almost surprised at her bold statement.

“I wanted her to go with hope, not fear.”

He guffawed, his chest pumping. “You don’t actually believe that!”

Without hesitation, as straight as she could manage while she halted his laughter, Kagome replied, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

His smile faded quickly, humor replaced with anger as his fists bunched tighter and he heatedly pulled Kagome away from the wall and threw her to the floor. Kagome landed on her front, quickly pressing herself to her hands and knees just before he pushed her belly down, her wrists sliding and giving out so the side of her face planted in the mud.

“Kagome -“ Her cousin called, stumblingly crawling her way before another demon kicked him in the side he’d been clutching, a tiny crunch being heard just as Miroku choked in pain.

“Miroku, stop! I’m fine!” She attempted to say clearly, a foot braced on her back.

“Enough.” The leader stated. “Everyone back in line. We haven’t finished yet.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” A man asked disbelievingly. “You don’t think you’ve done enough damage already!? Get the fuck out!”

“Yeah, get out of here!” Other villagers began to call out, joining in. “You aren’t welcome here! You’re only taking advantage because our demon slayers are gone!”

“You think that matters?” The leader chuckled. “Go ahead. Revolt. Fight back. Make us leave. See how quickly your entire village will be wasted the next time around. You see four of us and think you stand a chance. You see a large group of us and think you’re safe because you’ve got a little pack of demon slayers protecting you. Funny, that’s never stopped our inspections before, so I don’t see why you think that’d stop us now. Either way, not a single one of you would be left alive if we brought a fraction of the wild demons under Naraku’s control, and he wouldn’t bat an eye if we borrowed them to kill you all. In fact, that’s already in the plan if we don’t check in. You kill us all, congratulations, but you’ll be worse off. Compared to him, we’re the most compassionate monsters you’ll ever meet, and I suggest you learn to appreciate that. Now, get your girls back in line.”

“It’s okay, papa.” An older girl spoke. Kagome couldn’t see from where she lay, but she recognized the seventeen year-old’s voice. Ayumi. She was soft-spoken normally, but also fairly brave and kind. The only child of a widowed father, and a girl, like the rest of them, forced to grow up too soon.

Ayumi walked forward, having backed away from the rowdiness with the majority of the girls who hadn’t run back to the safety of their parents. Notching her chin upward, she raised her left palm, “Let them finish. They won’t seem so big forever.”

“Bold girl.” The demon complimented.

“Yeah. The more I find myself hoping the conjurers win, the bolder I feel.”

“Careful, now. You’ll wind up getting yourself killed.”

“Looks like being female might just get me killed, anyway. So, I might as well go down confident that Naraku is the true evil here, and evil never wins.”

“What a disgusting cliche.” He groaned. “Grow a brain and come up with something original before you spew that sort of shit. It’s embarrassing. Look, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but as the chick over there stated, we already are. We’re winning. Now, I won’t argue that we’re the bad guys here, but at this point in time, that doesn’t really matter.”

Ayumi swallowed thickly, eyes faltering downward for the smallest moment before she rose them to meet the red eyes of Naraku’s henchman. As sickeningly as that notion sat in her esophagus, Ayumi felt it would be worse if she’d sunken her shoulders at the validity of their power. By no means was she strong, and by no means was she actually all that courageous. Ayumi, true to heart, was a daydreamer, was a fantasy-enthusiast, was a soft, sweet, and hopeful wisher, was tired, was passive. So, while she could admit her stare wasn’t striking, her irises would never be vivid with the passionate heroism she dreamed about, her lips would never curve with a compelling and threatening snarl, she could also admit that just the act of matching his gaze was all she needed to do to defy defeat. With chapped lips parting, not a waver traveling over her tongue, she spoke. “Yes, it does.”

“Yes, it does.” Another girl agreed, approaching to stand beside Ayumi.

“The world hasn’t always been this way. Naraku only grew large less than five years ago.” A woman said, a mother, holding her fearful daughter in her arms. Several more girls got back in line, their shoulders a little more broadened than before. “I find it appalling how arrogant you all have gotten in such a short time. I assure you, conjurer, demon, human, or anything in between, I’d give them my trust sooner than I’d yield to the idea of life staying like this. Good and evil, the difference will always matter. So, yes. Yes, it does.”

“Inspirational.” One of Naraku’s demons remarked sarcastically, cringing.

“Hey, whatever blows your skirt up, lady.” The leader shrugged. “You can believe whatever you want. No sweat off my back. Funny enough, I’d put down all the money in my pockets right now to bet not a single one of them would return that trust, nor would they risk their lives to save you. I mean, not to play devil’s advocate or anything, but look at the twisted circumstances. What the fuck have you done to help them? Human’s are selfish; only looking out for themselves. You hate us showing up because you don’t want us to hurt you. It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with us hunting down conjurers, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with that little girl on the ground over there. If it did, you would have never watched it happen. If it did and it was just the ‘shock factor’ holding you back, you still would have done a little more than yell at us about how unfair it was. Oh, cry me a fucking river.” He grinned, stepping over to the first girl in the newly-formed line. There were less than half left that hadn’t been tested, and he got straight to work, unforgivingly slashing at the pre-teen’s palm and slapping his own to hers as he continued his heartless speech. “Even better, there’s two of your own on the floor, both of them getting quite the beating, and not a single fucking one of you did a damn thing to help. I understand the lad; that’s his - er - sister? Cousin? And, I mean, at least the chick tried to help the conjurer survive. I’ll give them kudos, but I think I speak for all of us non-humans when I say fuck the rest of you egotistical pricks. Oh no, my child might have a scar on her hand. Oh no, more trauma.” The leader mocked, his tone high and whiney. “Yeah, well, at least they’re not dead in the mud like little Suzie over there.”

There was a collective gasp from the audience at the harsh and morbid insensitivity. Still, no one challenged him. Someone should have, and no one said a thing.

Kagome tasted bile on the back of her tongue from the disgusting sentiments plaguing the thick, electric air. How cruel. She wanted to open her mouth and beg him to stop and just finish his job already, force her broken voice out to demolish his train of thought and hope he doesn’t mention the death for the remainder of his stay. The only thing stopping her was Miroku’s steady stare on her. It held more power than an order from his mouth to stay quiet ever could. With a foot on her back as a warning for more damage, the impending threat that he would easily be hurt again, and the fact that she’d said enough as it was, no matter how bold she felt in the face of this evil, she knew she was meant to face the source. She could only do that alive. So, begrudgingly, she obliged to his logical demand.

If they wanted them to finish, they needed to stop fighting. They needed to shut up. A double-edged sword. Like bowing their heads to the abuse. Enabling it. Allowing it so it ends quicker.

Kagome could feel her palms burning in the mud, a sense of humiliating defeat flooding her chest, making her feel sick to her stomach. She kept her eyes on Miroku, he kept his eyes on her. She tried to raise the volume of her thoughts, no matter how negative they were, to tune out the gasps and muffled cries of the young girls as they received the cut to their palms for testing.

How could she hold any form of power, yet still feel so powerless? How could she have the privilege of a voice, but feel so irrevocably silenced? She wanted to believe she could save everyone there if she just untied the knots concealing her abilities, but it physically pained her to understand that it was the wrong thing to do. It would be counterintuitive. It would wind up getting them all killed later. She could fight, but she also couldn’t.

“And, there you have it.” The leader finished by wiping his knife clean and slipping it back into the little holster on his hip, the hint of pride and sarcasm on his tongue. “Thank you so much for your cooperation and understanding. We’ll be seeing you.”

The demon holding Kagome down applied a small kick of pressure as he lifted off of her, chuckling as his dirty boots stuck in the mud with each step away.

There was an eerie silence, one that grew more deafening as the henchmen took their horses and disappeared from the village. It was heavy, thick, like sludge. Weighted with failure and death. Even the cries from the mother were muted. For a moment, Kagome thought that instead of drowning out the pained noises with her own thoughts, her brain had responded late to her distress by completely disabling her sense of hearing instead. But, she could hear the stickiness of the mud as she peeled herself from the ground to sit on her knees. She could hear feet slowly walking - most likely children rejoining their families. She could hear the thunder threatening them of the next onslaught of rain to come. The silence that captivated them was one that couldn’t be lifted with a simple, “Thank god that’s over.” No one could make it dissipate by asking if everyone was okay. Because, it didn’t matter.

And, that was something everyone, even the young, could recognize.

The small talk that would eventually come when everyone was back in their homes, the whispers, the crying, and maybe even tiny chuckles from people trying to find the little joys to get them through this, they would all be irrelevant. Because, outside there would be a blanket of despair thicker than the friction-inducing clouds hanging over them at this very moment, and it promised them there that it would stick around as long as it needed to.

“Hey,” A soft voice spoke in Kagome’s ear, a gentle, cold hand brushing her arm, and it was only when she gasped and jerked upright that she realized she’d been hanging her head, sights stuck on her hands on her thighs. “Sh, sh. It’s just me.” Her mother reassured, kneeling beside her and using her sleeve to try and wipe her face clean of some clumpy mud. “Are you alright, honey?”

Out of sheer reaction, she gave a meager nod.

“Look at me, Kagome. Look at me. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” Kagome said as convincingly as possible. When Miroku groaned, catching her mother’s attention and even her own, she was happy to have the focus off of her. Kohaku and Sango were beside him, trying to sit him up, freezing as he struggled.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get you home.” A couple, larger village men came over, better suited to help. One of them firmly clasped his hand in Miroku’s, quickly pulling him up to his feet so the pain wouldn’t be dragged out. Her cousin hissed at the shock, clenching his throat to try and swallow his grumble, and the two men supported him by pulling his arms over their shoulders.

“Can you stand?” Kagome’s mother asked.

“Yeah.” She whispered, not wanting to irritate her throat further and finding no real need to speak up right now. “I’m fine, mama. Don’t worry about me. Miroku needs your attention more.”

“Even if that were true, he’s kind of surrounded. I don’t think I’m needed there, love.” She replied, grabbing her by her elbow to support her as they stood together. “Sota, take her other side, please. Just in case.”

“Wait.” A broken voice called to them, trembling but by no means weak.

They all stopped just two steps in, looking over to the mother on the ground. Her daughter’s body, from head to toe, was covered by a long cloak belonging to one of the villagers beside her now, attempting to give comfort.

“Kikyo? Is that what you’d said? Kikyo?” She asked Kagome.

As clearly as she could, with a little nod of her head as she processed the question, Kagome said, “Yes.”

“Who is that?”

Kagome could feel the tension in her brow falter as the sympathetic, concerned curve in them wilted away to change more into dubiousness. “You - you don’t…” She didn’t know who Kikyo was. Even her own mother knew who Kikyo was. Her mom was the first to hear about her dreams before she started discussing them with the rest of her family. Had her daughter not had the same messages coming to her? Or, was she so confused, so distraught from them all, that she chose secrecy over being seen as insane?

“She’s a conjurer.” Kagome answered.

“Is she - is she a strong conjurer?”

“I think so.”

“I’m sorry, did your daughter never mention anything about Kikyo?” Sango carefully asked.

“N-no. Why would she?”

“We were just under the impression that she may have been sending survivors telepathic signals of sorts.” She said.

“That’s preposterous.” A man scoffed.

“Maybe. We heard it in passing. From an old man, no less.” Miroku said, discomfort laced in his tone.

“What - what could she possibly have had to say to a little girl?” The mother asked, her bottom lip quivering while her hand rested on her daughter’s chest.

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew.” The words were painful to speak. Not from her throat, but from the fact that she had to lie to a woman who’d had her everything stolen from her. A woman who, more than anyone, deserved the truth.

When she’d said what she’d said about Kikyo before, the little girl had muttered something in return before the demon tore Kagome away. It seemed like she was about to ask who Kikyo was. Kagome was sure now that the kid didn’t know. She hadn’t had the dreams, the premonitions, the one-sided conversations, nothing. She hadn’t had any communication with Kikyo, whatsoever. Maybe Kikyo was kind to exclude the young, and only spoke to the older, potentially more conditioned conjurers.

Or, maybe there was a possibility that Kagome was the only one.

And, it terrified her.

“Will she win? Kikyo? Will she defeat Naraku?” The crying mother asked.

Kagome was finding it hard to reply, to communicate. Her throat was tightening up as she watched the woman’s body begin to crumble once more toward her little girl’s; like she needed to be connected with her to prevent her from going cold. She could feel her eyes stinging, tears brimming, her fingers quaking and legs growing weak. Her cheeks felt hot and her chest wouldn’t allow a full breath of air - only unsteady, unmatched, quick puffs that burned. A hot hand slid into her right, her brother’s fingers tightening their grip, but she couldn’t control her body enough to grab it back.

“I refuse to believe otherwise.” Sango answered confidently.

The mother now sobbed, nodding in acknowledgment as she weeped over the covered body of her daughter. “Thank you.”

Kagome wanted to apologize profusely. For failing to protect her. For failing to try to protect her. For her loss. For the chance she was never given to learn to defend herself. For the silence she had to keep. The guilt was so heavy on her shoulders, she was ready to give in in front of them all, but the hand in hers pulled her back, made her move.

More villagers were moving toward the mother and child to help comfort while they removed the body, and that was the prime opportunity to get Kagome out of there. Sota could tell from the moment it started that she was going to break down, maybe even panic. He knew his sister, he knew the signs, he understood the stress she was under, and he wanted nothing more than to get her away and help her as best as he could. So, he disregarded everyone else and began pulling Kagome ahead. Miroku would have to move at a slower pace, Sango and Kohaku would stick by him and the men that helped, and he figured their mom would respect that they needed a moment of peace where they weren’t under more eyes than necessary.

Sota ignored the broken utterances of his name that came from his sister, he ignored the threatening weather, and he ignored anything that could potentially get in his way. He directed Kagome around their house, to the back, and toward the tree line of the woods. Three trees in past the shrubbery bush, on the opposite side of the trunk, Sota found the rope ladder to the treehouse their dad had built them hanging. Holding it steady, he released Kagome’s hand.

“Come on. Climb.”

-> | next chapter |

[reveriequill-rai]

Shroud: Withered Soul

A/N: Sorry it’s been a while. As of right now I’ve just been uploading stories I’ve written in my newspaper club, and now that I’ve graduated I hope that can now expand to short stories generally. I’m not gonna promise that posts from now on will be more consistent, but I would like to at least speed up my uploads a bit before they actually wind down, as I imagine I will be working on more stories in the future. Everything being uploaded right now is previous work, but nothing too old--probably like, from last year tops. This was completed sometime in May, I believe. 

This is an introduction to a character I created called ‘Shroud,’ an amateur self-proclaimed ‘detective’ who exclusively investigates occult-based crimes and malefic.

Content Warning: death, descriptions of corpses, graphic descriptions of violence and pain, cults 

[My blog will usually contain PG-13 stories, and as of right now I am writing some darker content, but I will tag anything that may be especially disturbing or uncomfortable. I’ll include this warning in my bio, too.]

----------

The corpse in front of me wasn’t all that disturbing by itself. I had seen dead people before–comes with the territory. I had been dead before. Murder rates in Twilight were, naturally, much higher than any other district in New Fable–especially further south of the district where I was–considering how much wild magic was around, and not even the police force sent here from the northern district of Bastion could do anything about it. So the corpse itself didn’t bother me, all things considered.

What did disturb me, though, was a number of other things.

For one, the corpse just being there was a problem. They weren’t stopping, and they were getting far too close to home.

Its eyes were still open, for another thing, and nearly colorless, and looking at me specifically, and I can swear to you that had not happened when I first laid eyes on it. Even worse, like me, the man lying dead in front of me appeared to be wearing a few bandages like I was, perhaps just recovering from an injury.

And for yet another thing, and perhaps the worst part of this, was the connection I felt with this dead man. Something about the state he was in struck a familiar chord that only I and a select unlucky others knew. As if we were kindred spirits–undergoing the same fate, yet with (probably) different outcomes.

I had been at this–whatever you would call tracking down cults as someone with zero prior detective experience with the help of almost no one–for…a few months now? And I’ve made a bit less progress than would be expected from someone who has seen just about everything the darker sides of magic had to offer. I did have one solid lead, though, and hopefully one that would lead me to exactly who I was looking for.

“Everyone move,” I ordered, pushing my way through the crowd.

Ignoring their complaints, I made my way over toward the body and began to examine it, hoping for any hint of who had done this, and more importantly, if it was exactly who I had suspected. There didn’t appear to be much damage, but what first caught my attention was the note tucked into the man’s pocket. I took it out and unfolded it, and immediately flinched.

Demon tongue.

Hellish whispers ran through my head, and I wasn’t sure if they were just in my head or not. It was hard to tell these days.

I honed in on the note, written on some old paper as if torn from an ancient book. The more I stared, the louder the whispers got. I ignored the throbbing in my head as best as I could–humans were not mentally equipped to engage with the infernal language at all, and I much less so. My hands shook as I read the brief message, which I must have read dozens and dozens of times already; I wasn’t counting and didn’t care to.

Some people studied demon tongue despite…well…everything, even the illegality. It probably didn’t matter to them. It didn’t matter to me, either, but someone had spoken to me in demon tongue before–though, in their defense, likely not out of their own volition–and the trembling and rapid heart rate was not worth the ability to communicate with infernals. (Nothing was, honestly.)

For these reasons–and also not wanting to be arrested or have my mage license revoked–I personally didn’t speak or write demon tongue, but I at least knew a little bit and could recognize some of the infernal runes. And those runes were enough for me to know that this was the exact same message that the abyss had been trying to send me in my last moments.

—

Can’t run home, I thought. They’ll follow me.

Just gotta run until I find a phone booth.

I ran until I finally spotted one on the street corner near a bridge. I let out a sigh of relief, taking a quick moment to catch my breath. Then, I quickly crossed the street and ran toward the phone booth, quickly dialing the police station.

“Hello?” I said into the phone as quietly as I could manage. “My name is [……………………………] I’m at the corner of Coral Avenue by the Armada IV Memorial Bridge. I’m being pursued by a group of kids in demon-charmed cloaks and shawls, please I need your help they have knives and they’re trying to kill me-“

The tears stinging at the edge of my eyes began to overflow as a human voice at the end of the line responded in perfect, uncharacteristically calm demon tongue. It was a short sentence, repeated over and over again, but with the little knowledge I *did* have, I could translate it by about the sixth loop:

“You are going to hell.”

I hung up the phone immediately, resisting the urge to yell, “I KNOW” directly into the phone.

Humans can’t speak demon tongue here. It’s illegal.

So how did an officer know demon tongue?

—

Unsurprisingly, the body was still in semi-good condition. After all, little damage was done to the body—only the soul. The only physical marks I could make out were marks around the wrist and neck, likely to restrain the victim. Couple of bruises here and there, too, but nothing was broken.

This…disturbed me, to say the least.

Cults around here were usually known to be violent. After all, a lot of them stood for violent causes–executing the ‘impure,’ plunging everyone into the dreams of a volatile eldritch creature, usurping the throne and forcing everyone to convert, rallying the youth to their bloody cause with claims that they alone possessed special powers…I had heard it all, all of them violent to some degree. But the ones that had gotten me…they seemed to worship oblivion itself. Or maybe whatever was in it. That was beyond even my knowledge.

But…even then, they still had arguably the least violent cause. The deadliest, yes–they seemed to just be destroying souls–but strangely not as bloody. Yet their means of carrying out this objective has historically been, well, bloody.

Or maybe that was just me.

Either way, this victim had certainly not gotten the worst of it. There were no twisted limbs, no bloodied nose, no wounds from blade or bullet, basically no magic-driven attacks aside from the terminating consumption of the soul…only marks of the initial restraint, bruises from the subduing, and the abyss claiming and destroying the soul.

I could almost picture it in my head: they likely jumped him in the middle of the street, kicking him around a bit to possibly weaken him, throw him off balance, but not too much as to rouse resistance, then restraining him–to the floor? A wall? I couldn’t tell, but there were no rope burns so they must have done this by hand–and calling, somehow, for their god, for lack of a better word, to devour its newest victim’s soul.

What did he see as he died? Did their eyes turn as colorless as his would become? Had they shown any sign of enjoying his torment? I doubt it; it didn’t seem like a very ‘fun’ kill. And likely not as personal as it was for me.

They were getting much better at their kills. It probably wasn’t as fun, but more precise.

And a lot less violent than I had gotten.

—

I caught a glimpse of the charm from earlier out of the corner of my eye, but just as I looked it vanished. Just then a cold breeze hit me as the door behind me opened, and I was yanked out onto the street, leaving the phone dangling by the cord. The book dropped from my hands.

The four delinquents appeared in front of me from nowhere, likely having turned off their Moonlight Shroud charms.

“Gotcha,” Ransley said, smiling as he picked up the book.

“Give it BACK!” I roared, lunging for him. Ransley hit me hard across the face with the book, sending me flying a few feet back onto the brick road. Quickly I realized that my safety was not worth keeping that book. I didn’t know where or how Ransley learned to hit that hard but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out. As he and the others examined the book, I began to scurry away as Ransley gave an order to the others:

“Get him.”

An instant later, I heard something click far behind me, and a sharp pain ripped through my knee. I collapsed to the floor, letting out an agonized cry. I examined my knee, and saw a hole much bigger than a bullet hole should be. I looked up at my attackers.

A gun?!

“What the HELL?!” I shouted. “You’ve already got what you want! LEAVE ME ALO-“

Ardent appeared behind me and punched me square in the face. I held my probably-broken nose as a muffled shriek of pain escaped me. Each of them vanished and took turns raining blows and slashes on me as I tried to step back and run. They gave me almost no chance to react. My body ached everywhere; the knife wounds, though shallow, stung just as bad, if not worse, as any bee. I could barely stand. I used my remaining strength to try and push them off of me whenever I felt them, but I stumbled each time I did, giving them room to knock me around further. Finally I collapsed, and Ardent grabbed my shirt and dragged me to the bridge.

“W-wait-“ I cried, still wincing and crying from my bruises and decayed knee. “STOP IT!-”

—

I examined the bandages on my hand and knee. The ones from that night must’ve been amateurs, or at least new to the cult’s way of doing things.

Focus, Shroud.

The victim’s eyes were still open, and almost completely empty.

Almost.

The body must not be entirely empty, then. This wasn’t exactly a kill—whoever this person was, they would not be dead for much longer, or at least depending on your definition of ‘dead.’

How long ago had this attack been, then? I touched the skin—still warm-ish. This had to be recent.

By that logic, if this was meant not as a lethal attack, but as one of induction into their group…

I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but I at least knew it wasn’t for very long.

So…I didn’t have much longer, then.

I instinctively jerked away from the body. Would he come back? He wouldn’t be under anyone’s control, at least for the first few minutes–how long does it take to kill someone? Would it be long enough for him to kill me?–no, he probably wouldn’t go after me; I had barely any soul left for him to long for…unless he’s just that desperate enough to take scraps from a near-husk.

What would he do when he came back? Would he wander around, lost, confused, until they welcomed him with false promises of salvation and freedom from the ‘burden’ of having a judgement-tied soul? Would he be violent, as they had been to him?

Then again…I came back after one of their attacks, but with a will of my own. Did they want me to come back? Why would they want me of all people to come back?

—

“You know how much trouble you caused us, […….…]?!” Ransley shouted as he kicked me in my injured leg. “Don’t act like you didn’t have this coming, you little weasel.”

“I didn’t-“ I tried to say.

Ransley propped me up on the sidewalk, just by the edge of the bridge, right above the river. He placed his hand on my bruised shoulder, looking at me with a bone-chilling grin.

Again, I got a good look at his eyes. This time, everything except the pupils was entirely white. As I looked I almost felt like I was staring at something beyond; further, even. But the harder I looked the more I could see how much nothing there was. And yet, in spite of that, this nothing seemed to be staring back at me.

The others had the same white eyes too, looking on with a horrible satisfaction.

“What…” I barely managed to say, “…what are y-you…?”

“Free,” Ransley answered, without his usual cruelty and instead with an uncharacteristically sanctimonious tone. “And with our help, so too will you be free.”

With a hard shove, I was pushed off the bridge.

I grabbed onto the edge with my hand, barely having the strength to pull myself up.

“T-this is insane-!” I cried. “Ransley! Please! Y-you can keep the book; I won’t call the police, just help me up-“

Ransley frowned and put his boot on my hand. He leaned in as he brought his foot down harder, crushing my hand. Bone splintered and crumbled under the weight of the shoe, and I let out a shriek as a cold look crossed his face.

“You really should stop holding on so much,” he said. “That’s your problem. That’s why you’re here. Just let go, and face oblivion.”

Ransley took his foot off finally, but my hand had run out of strength. I slipped, and fell into the river.

—

Either way, I had to work fast.

“Hey, kid!” Someone from the crowd called. “What’re you doing? Leave this to the professionals.”

I turned around, and maybe it was the speed at which I had whirled around to face them, or he did just flinch.

Was it my eyes?

“The police won’t find them,” I explained. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve studied demonology for a few years.”

I went back to the body.

“You mean you know who did this?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I answered. “I just wanna be sure…”

I pressed down on the bruises on their shoulder and arms. Hollow. I felt no bone or extra layer of skin or muscle underneath.

Just as I suspected, I thought. Soul devouring.

My only question now was, how much of the soul was left?

—-

The bridge wasn’t particularly tall; just enough for any small cargo ships to run under. But the fall felt much longer than it had any right to.

I never hit the water. I was swallowed by something but it certainly wasn’t the river. It was as cold and sharp but nothing wet ever touched my skin or clothes.

I did not fall into water. I fell into something foreign, something dark, something alive, something evil.

Its eyes were beady and attentive, focused, eager, and it had long rows of sharp fangs. It appeared to smile at me, expecting me, welcoming me. Whispers in demon-tongue surrounded me, and I overwhelmed myself trying to find a single word I could understand. The only thing I could catch was “going to hell” again…was this it? Was this hell? What circle was this?

I was immobile, unable to look away from the creature in front of me, unable to scream as it opened its fang-filled mouth. I couldn’t even let out a scream of protest; no, not against this, as it brought down its jaws and took a large bite out of a deep part of me even I could never access. The pain from my bruises and wounds no longer burned; only ached, as if the pain had been there forever.

I was hollow. If there was anything left, I barely even felt it. My wounds glowed a hot white color and became shallow. I felt nothing but an aching nigh-emptiness that seemed to have no origin I could place; no past; only a present and a long future.

I didn’t know how long I was in that void. But as much as I despised that thing for robbing me of my life, I was grateful that it chose to let me go.

—-


I took out my pen from my pocket and a couple of mini-candles from my satchel. I flicked a lighter and lit the candles, surrounding them at different points around the body. I began to draw an evocation circle around the body. I’m not sure what had stopped this cult from performing forced evocations as opposed to beating everyone into submission until they blacked out enough to face the abyss and have their soul devoured, but I wasn’t about to find any sense in a group of people who literally worship the abyss.

I took my time with the intricate webs of the circle, carefully connecting whatever remained of the soul to the points where I would draw in the runes, and connected those to the candles.

I then drew in symbols in the language of the spirits at the different sub-points that would draw up souls from the afterlife, adding a desperate prayer in each pen stroke that I evoke the right thing and not something unwelcome. I had to steady my hand as I did this, reminding myself that this was merely a human soul who was recently killed, so the chances of him having ended up in hell – was he that kind of person? – were slim; they had to be, of course they were; there was no need to panic so stop panicking. Yet knowing I was drawing the same symbols, the same webs, lighting the same candles as the deadly evokers around town who would break into people’s houses and draw evocation circles under their beds to call up who-knows-what from the pits of hell to torment the living…to think I was drawing the same circle that I checked for every night when I went to sleep…

The pen snapped in my shaking hand against the concrete, getting ink all over my hand. I swore, and rubbed some on my finger tip so I could start to finish the circle.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?!” someone cried, making me jump. “You’re tampering with evidence! That’s illegal!”

“You’re gonna screw up the investigation!” someone else shouted.

I steadied myself from being startled.

“This…this is the investigation,” I replied bluntly.

“Wh–okay…? Are you a detective or something?” the first guy asked.

I shrugged.

“I think so,” I said.

“You think-”

I could hear further shouts from the crowd as I turned the body over to draw the rest of the circle underneath, but I held up my hand to stop them from getting closer.

“Just let me work!” I cried without looking back.

That’s when I noticed some of the rapidly-decaying skin near the shoulder and side of the ankles. The skin had withered and given way to bone, the effect cutting through flesh and muscle. Even the bone had begun to decay.

Well, so much for minimal damage.  

I unzipped the victim’s jacket and pulled back the shirt just slightly to get a better look at the damage. The withering had spread further—the entire shoulder seemed about ready to decay. I took a camera out of my bag and took a picture of the decaying wounds.

With the remaining ink, I drew another sigil on the bandage of my injured hand, a heart-shaped eye-like symbol with two lines running up my index and middle finger. It was a painful process and I was just careful enough to have the pen not tear through the bandage, and I placed my shaking hand on the decaying shoulder and closed my eyes. I saw all of the injuries on the man’s body, including where he had been injured–he had a broken arm that had almost finished recovering, and a fractured foot that was also healing, but wasn’t as near completion as his arms. Either way, both of these had stopped healing, and had actually gotten worse, with the bones beginning to decay in both areas.

What was the point of beating people up, breaking them, letting them decay, and then expecting them to join you after you had broken them? My attackers probably went through the same thing as this man had–as I had, if this cult was larger than them. So why do the same thing to others?

But that was just it, though, wasn’t it?

They knew what it was like to be soulless, and only they knew not only how to recover from the injuries suffered, but how to disguise themselves as living to avoid trouble with the law.

I looked again at the bandages on my hand, and unraveled it slightly, careful not to let the crowd see. There, too, did my flesh begin to decay. This was the primary issue with not having a soul: without the very essence that gives us life, our bodies aren’t capable of self-healing anymore. Any injuries are permanent unless fixed by a doctor, or if we tend our own wounds.

Fortunately my bones—at least in my hand—hadn’t completely withered away. I managed to revive just in time, fortunately.

Just in time.

——

I don’t remember much about the day I woke up. Just the excruciating, aching pain.

What I did know was I had washed up on the shore of the city, and I couldn’t stand up for a very long time. A burning sensation enveloped my entire hand and knee, and I felt a throbbing sensation in both areas. The bruises from the beatdown stuck on me like a leech, but most vividly, my chest felt hollow. And it hurt. The emptiness gnawed at the inside of my chest, and it, too, burned and ached. Like a stomach ache in the wrong place.

With my good hand I crawled my way off of the shore until I found a lamppost. I grabbed onto it, and propped up my good knee. I swung my arm toward the lamppost, grabbing onto it with my bad hand, shocks of pain running through my body. I tried to haul myself up, but the weight of my body caved my knee in, and I collapsed. That’s when I got a good look at my hand.

Bits of skin had completely come off, seeming to have withered away. Pieces of bone underneath had chipped off.

I grew nauseous and I felt the blood drain from my face. I let out some inhuman noise that I reckoned was some attempt at a scream but came out as a cross between that and a moan of agony.

How had this happened?

It was a horrible sound, but at least I had been found. Otherwise, who knows what would’ve happened?

Or who else would’ve found me?

——

Finishing the circle grew tricky as my hand trembled, though I was unsure if it was from the injury or from the reality of the process itself.

“Kid, we don’t even know who you are,” the guy from earlier said. “Are you even a licensed detective?”

I ignored him and wiped some of the ink from my pen on my hand, pressing my hands together to activate the circle. As the soul fire candles flared, what little color was left in their eyes drained slowly, and a small, glowing, deteriorated wisp of a soul rose out of the victim’s body.

This was all that was left…

Somehow this dead man was just the same as I, who could still breath, still walk, still talk, still live—but only just.

What had this man’s soul seen before it was decimated? If, in fact, the same people who killed me are responsible for this, did he, too, see the same grinning face in the abyss that I had? Was he as afraid as I was? Or did he accept this as death?

I took my mage’s license out of my pocket and showed it to the crowd.

“I’m a licensed magic user,” I said, “is that enough?”

“…that’s not a detective license,” the same guy said. “I’m calling the police.”

“Great!” I said. “Tell them the Brotherhood of Abyss Walkers did this.” At this point it was all but confirmed.

“The…what?”

“The cult that keeps tormenting this forsaken town,” I explained. “The one behind all the unexplained murders.”

The guy—along with the rest of the crowd—stifled a laugh. Some of them couldn’t hold it in.

“There’s no cult in New Lumanore,” someone else said. “Our security’s airtight; no way they would’ve been able to form a guild without a license.”

“Just call the authorities, Aaron,” a lady in the crowd said. “This kid isn’t worth persuading.”

“W-wait-“ I said before letting out a resigned sigh. I packed up the candles and pocketed my pen, and took off. I knew who the culprit was. What the police had to say didn’t bother me.

They’ll believe me when I put the culprit behind bars.

—————

In previous investigations I managed to pin down the general area where the Abyss Walkers operate. Prior murders took place at least within a mile’s range of Eclipse Avenue, an area further south of New Lumanore. It was a relatively quiet and empty area; there were quite a bit of shops and buildings of unknown function that no one ever seemed to go into, not even during the day.

The entire place screamed occult activity.

Sure enough, just as I hit the corner of the avenue I caught a glimpse of a Moonlight Shroud charm, pinned to the outwear of a hooded figure. They were walking along the other side of the street, hanging close to the bare wall of a wide building.

Once they were some distance along I crossed the street quickly and began tailing them.

Confrontation wasn’t new to me, just…unfavorable. Is that why I trembled? Either way I knew the procedure: Walk with the same beat. Same path, same pattern of step. Stop when he stops. Walk like this until the shadow is close enough for contact.

Once I did I took out a capsule from my coat. It contained shadow ink, allowing me to either create my own shadow, or to hide within someone else’s. I didn’t have enough of a soul to perform any magical feats on my own–whatever I could do would probably just come out as sparks–so this was the best I could work with. Unfortunately the capsule was nearly empty, and I made a mental note to contact my supplier after I was finished. In the meantime, I used what was left to lather my hand in ink as I silently crept behind the lone cultist, and pressed my hand against his shadow. I latched on and eventually got pulled in. Inside the shadow realm, I had a black-and-white view of the street from inside the wall. I couldn’t breathe, though, and I couldn’t hold my breath for very long so I knew I had to jump him sooner rather than later.

I took a coin out of my pocket and tossed it outside behind the cultist. He stopped and turned around, as expected, and I took the moment to lunge out and grab him by the throat.

—————

The cultist narrowed his eyes, and an amused smirk came on his face.

“Hey…” he said. “I know you.”

I flinched. How?

He kicked me off and stood up.

“You…you’re the kid we got that book from!” He chuckled. “You don’t quit, do you? This is really what you chose to do after death? Vigilante work?”

I felt the blood drained from my face.

“…what are you talking about?” I lied. “What book?”

“The demonology book, stupid,” he said. “The thing damning you to begin with. You forgot already? Or did you lose your memories alongside almost all your soul somehow?”

I clenched my fist, resisting the urge to charge at him again. I couldn’t take him in a head-on fight. I was too weak for that.

“Tell me,” he said. “How’s it feel? Being so close to freedom, so close to ridding yourself of that moral creed weighing you down…no fear of rapture…just your life and your…well, I suppose now broken…body, and your heart and mind.”

“Shut up,” I snapped.

“Good thing you came back, though. We’ve been slacking on our initiations recently…Ardent went a little too hard on too many people. We’re behind on our quota.”

“Wait a sec…” I took a step back. “What do you mean ‘too hard?’ Aren’t they supposed to come back?”

“The idiot decided to use magic to slow the initiates down,” the cultist explained. “As if that wouldn’t damage the soul at all. I’m sure you of all people know. You’ve taken enough beatings form him, right, D–“

I punched him in the face. The second I made contact I realized I had used my bad hand without thinking. Bone snapped, collapsed, and even shifted through the hole in my hand. I let out a far-too-loud shriek of agony as I recoiled and caressed my hand, trying to relocate the bone.

The cultist looked at me and laughed, and I raised a finger on my good hand and threatened him:

“Don’t try that again,” I said. “I’ve still got one—ahh…—perfectly functioning hand.”

“Fine by me,” he replied. “You hit hard for a dead person…”

My hand still ached from the punch. I imagine it probably hurt me way more than it hurt him.

“Do you mean to turn me in, Shroud?” the cultist hissed. “Just try it. I know who you are. They’ll find out you’re undead and investigate you to hell and back. Whatever decimal of a soul you have left won’t save you. Not even close.”

“I can’t trust you with that information even if I let you go,” I said. “But even if you do…I’ll know sooner or later if you’ve said something. You best not try it if you don’t wanna die twice.”

The cultist grinned.

“I’m shaking,” he said, deadpan. “I’ll just come back again.”

“What, are there no revival limits in your little group?”

“Nope. He’ll bring us back again and again as long as he needs us.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Oh, you’ve only been resurrected once, you big baby,” the cultist said. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not joining you.”

“You have no reason not to,” the cultist said. “We can fix your broken body; make you look and seem as alive as the next person. Those remnants of a soul may not matter to the police, who’ll mark you as soulless anyway, but you know who it does matter to?” He pointed at the sky and at the group. “Them. Someone like you, who’s spent hours learning about heaven’s enemies…you think you have any chance of reaching heaven? HA!”

I fell silent. Just when I thought being registered as ‘dead’ to everyone you know meant they wouldn’t bother you about being a (rookie) demonologist anymore. That reminder worked my last nerve, yet every time it was brought up I could never muster up a proper defense.

“…I’m aware,” I mumbled.

“Besides, I’m sure you’re just livid at the police, who never caught who got you. I’m sure you’d like your vengeance against them for failing you…we can help you out with that, if you’d like. After all, why should we fear death, or judgement, from this life or the next? Like I’ve said, we’ve got no soul to weigh us down to heaven or hell. No death, no judgment. Just you, whatever you wanna do, and a welcoming oblivion who’ll spit you back out as many times as needed. As long as you keep it fed, that is.”

“It doesn’t matter if the police know or if they don’t know,” I said. “I know. And I’ll know more than they ever will. Besides, why the hell would I trust you to give me closure about my death–the death YOU caused?!”

The cultist frowned.

“And that’s just the trouble, isn’t it…you’re just about soulless, and the only soulless person New Lumanore who isn’t with us and…for what? You lose nothing by joining us!”

“First of all,” I shouted. “I am not soulless. Your stupid demon didn’t take all of it.”

“Yeah. Still not sure why that happened,” the cultist replied, “but who am I to question the great abyss–”

“Oh, shut up. And second of all–just in case you forgot–YOU KILLED ME! I don’t owe you loyalty, or gratitude, or mercy…I owe you nothing.”

“You may be upset now,” the cultist said, “but you’ll learn to thank us later.”

“I will not.”

His frown turned into a scowl. He took out a small cylinder from his pocket.

“I was gonna use this the day of the attack,” he said, “but I didn’t see any point. Seemed like the others were doing just fine without the staff.”

Sure enough, the cylinder popped open into a metal bo-staff. He walked towards me, twirling it through his fingers.

“You’ve been chasing the wrong thing, Shroud,” he said. “You think you need vengeance, but what you really need is security. We all know what being soulless is like. You’re weaker, you can’t heal your wounds, you can’t do magic, and it’s pretty obvious when you’ve just come back from the dead. I don’t care what three-percent of a soul you do have; it’s nowhere near enough for you to enjoy all the privileges of being fully human. Face it. You’re basically the same as us.”

As I stepped back, he stopped spinning the staff and instead gripped it with both hands.

“So you can either let go of those remnants you have the audacity to still call a soul, then come with us and let us give you the safety you so desperately need,” he said, rearing the staff back, “…or we’ll just break you further and let oblivion do what it wishes with your remains.”

He started to bring the staff down.

“WAIT!” I yelled, bringing my hands to my face.

Surprisingly enough, he actually froze, the staff a couple inches from my face.

“Okay…I get it…” I said. “You’re right. I won’t turn you in. Just…promise me you won’t tell anyone who I am.”

“What’s stopping me?” the cultist asked, cocking his head slightly and raising an eyebrow.

“Look. I didn’t turn you in,” I said. “You owe me.”

“No I don’t. I’m not tied to anything but oblivion.”

I let out an annoyed huff.

“Like I said. I’ll know if you exposed me,” I reminded him. “I don’t care if that scares you or not, just…let me go.”

“Let YOU go?! You jumped ME!”

“And I had—I…thought…I had the right to. Look…I’m backing down. You go about your night. I go about mine. We don’t speak of this.”

The cultist hesitated, then put the staff away.

“Fine,” he said. “But we’ll still come back for you. Whether or not your initiation goes smoothly is entirely on you.”

With that, he pulled out the same charm he had on the day of the attack, and vanished.

“See you around,” he said.

That was the last I heard of him that night.

Once I thought I was safe, I let out a loud groan of annoyance.

I had him. He was literally a few feet away. If I *just* had more shadow ink that would’ve been it for him.

But…he was right. I was at every possible disadvantage. And I couldn’t work like that. I shouldn’t have jumped him. I should’ve just taken note of his appearance and went from there. That was foolish on my part.

But…I did have his appearance now.

But he had my identity.

I still wasn’t at a complete advantage. And I couldn’t work like that. I had to lay low, and rebuild. My hand was wounded and I was lucky I didn’t get my skull bashed in. There was no way I could have recovered from that. But I wouldn’t give up. I had a lead and I wasn’t letting go of it.

I didn’t care about their ‘freedom’ or ‘not being tied down’ or anything like that. Fact of the matter is, they were hurting people, and their demon lord had more control over them than they’d realize.

They were beyond redemption. The demon didn’t bind them through any soul manipulation or contract–it was some weird combination of free will, gratitude, and the threat of permanent death.

These cultists had to go, and quickly. They had to pay, and dearly.

I know I’m weak, but once I’m back up and running I would do as much damage from the shadows as humanly possible.

They weren’t bound by any rules, so why should I have to be?

I didn’t care how many times I would get hurt. They ruined my life, and I was going to pay them back tenfold.

[emersonfreepress]

ok ok in the spirit of community, how would the ros fair in a paintball war?

(referring to this ask! like the zombie au post this ended up making me think a lot 😅)

ohh... interesting, interesting... p sure the only paintball wars i’ve really seen were the ones featured in The League, Peep Show, and Community... but let me wrack my lil head...

ok, i ended up coming at this from multiple angles like the zombie au post 😅 always so much to consider in battle environments! and in the spirit of community, I'll stick with the individual player elimination style paintball match. in the woods with other e prep seniors. last one standing wins bragging rights

Gabe

Shooting skill | 6/10 - Experience with shooting and practice with Kile ofc

Stealthiness | 8/10 - He's done a fair amount of sneaking around during his after school activities, is super observant (or just paranoid lol), and naturally light on his feet. Good luck ambushing him.

Strategy | 8/10 - Strike deals. Do favors. Form alliances. Shoot 'em in the back once they’ve outlived their usefulness. ...What? It’s just paintball.

How does he win? | Graciously. Gabe likes winning, and especially via strategic manipulation, so it puts a smile on his face. And he's in a good mood so he treats a bunch of you to ice cream or smth 👀

How does he lose? | Slumps in frustration at being outwitted or taken off-guard, sulks about it for a little while. He's not that sore of a loser but needs time to lick his wounds and stop thinking of the different choices he could have made.

Kile

Shooting | 9 - The most accurate shooter of the cast and easily one of the best shots at E Prep. Lots of practice + talent

Stealth | 10 - They're stupid good at climbing trees and 100% consider that a valid method of ambushing their classmates. People start having flashbacks to 3rd and 4th grade recess and P.E. Scanning the trees. They just start taking people out with such efficiency it quickly starts ruining the game 😂

Strategy | 0? 10?? - “...Strategy? You just stay out of sight and kill 'em all, right?” (immediately scolded by Gabe for word choice 🙄) They really do mainly stay out of sight and pick people off with max stealth, like 😆 they'd be such a terror, people would need to take them out early for anyone else to stand a chance! They spend a lot of the game staking out the most frequented paths in the area and taking out groups quickly, all at once. Then they'll get around to stalking and picking people off one by one. The real fun...

Winner type | Stoic. Likes winning combat but the stakes were non-existent, so... the win is meaningless! this just infuriates the losers more 😅 such disrespect

Loser type | Sucks their teeth and tosses their paintball gun to the ground. "Y'all suck." (they're over it five mins later tho lol)

Jack

Shooting | 3 - This is nothing like shooting light guns... ☹️

Stealth | 5 - Not just due to his size making him an easier target, but homeboy is liable to get distracted by a cute squirrel or some pretty flowers 😂 He's not great at keeping his voice down either so good conversation would make him easy to seek out. He's just out here enjoying a beautiful day 😅

Strategy | 7 - All that movie-watching (and DMing) make him a valuable creative mind for problem-solving, but he needs a cooperative team to be effective. Rescued and recruited by Rupan/Rohan early on in the game ^ ^

Winner type | Disbelief! And everyone’s content and satisfied with him winning. Except Vivian/Vincent, that jealous fool

Loser type | Doesn't mind losing at all! He just hopes he was a good teammate and was glad to have fun ☺️

Jessie

Shooting | 7 - Comes from a family of hunters, girly knows how to shoot.

Stealth | 6 - Familiar enough with woods and stalking prey to be capable of sneaking around. Having too much fun to not giggle and get overly invested in the developing plot of the game. Even more easily distracted by critters and flora than Jack 😅

Strategy | 5 - Oh, she's just here to have fun. She'll go with whatever the person she's teaming up with decides, but can adapt easily enough.

Winner type | Surprised... then elated! Bouncing and happy and it's completely contagious. No hard feelings about a single thing. Convinces Heidi to invite people to the Emerson Estate—it's a hot day and they have a nice pool

Loser type | Same as Jack! Congratulates the winner with a hug because she's sweet like that 🧁

Rain

Shooting | 2 - This... thing is so cumbersome. And ugly. At least it shoots pretty colors.

Stealth | 7 - Small and used to sneaking around different environments and seeking out hiding spots. Their height and frame makes them harder to spot too.

Strategy | 4 - Hide!!! They’re not getting assaulted with paint and pellets!! Especially not after managing to make this ugly jumpsuit look cute?? Waiting it out is perfectly legitimate. Might share snacks if you decide to join them in hiding 😆

Winner type | Falls asleep in an unexpectedly cozy hiding spot and emerges as everyone thought they’d declared the winner. I imagine R and others yelling at them to get their gun while the original winner scrambles to get theirs, just for Rain to win by pure luck of the draw. Won’t stop them bragging about it, though! (I want this spurned runner-up to be Vi bc ofc)

Loser type | "So I can stop holding this thing?" Yawn. "I'm so hungry and bored, we've been at this for hours..."

Rupan/Rohan

Shooting | 4 - Ah, shit. These don't shoot anything like light guns.

Stealth | 7 - They sneak out and around town a lot 😂 They just force themself to be careful about how loud grass and bushes are.

Strategy | 7 - They’re treating this shit like an action movie and banding together a ragtag team of misfits to take down the strongest alliances and players. Savvy enough to reject Gabe’s and Curt’s offers to join, not opposed to strategic backstabs. They're very clearly just as focused on having fun as they are on winning—and playing Predator, which honestly works with Kile runnin around. They even brought war paint and borrowed a tactical vest. Is it mostly packed with snacks and weed? Maybe. Does it prove useful for negotiations? Hell yeah.

Winner type | Raucous celebration, just pure joy and adrenaline ☺️ Celebrates with their team, brags a bit, rubs it into Vi's face, makes fun of Curt, the usual. Then invites allies out to get pizza because it's the obvious next step

Loser type | Mostly disappointed they can't keep playing. They're a little sore about being left out of the action, but soon just start chatting with other marked players about how the game went for them. Plenty entertaining on its own, they want all the details

Vivian/Vincent

Shooting | 5 - They've got a little bit of shooting experience.

Stealth | 4 - They're overly sensitive and hate being in nature. Their skin is sticky, they keep feeling bugs everywhere, they've gotten dirt all over their pants, it's so hot, they keep WALKING into SPIDERWEBS, [flails about, screaming furiously]

Strategy | 8 - They have good ideas, they're just difficult to execute alone, especially since they're getting sunburnt and getting crankier and can't stop swatting at insects 😅 they're one of the first people to figure out that someone's taking out groups from the trees, so they stay solo and try to find a single person to team up with. Really what they need is someone who's a better shot but easy to boss around. They can probably just owe them for an in-school favor...

Winner type | Barely suppressed gloating. Vi somehow finds a way to be an obnoxious winner almost entirely by the look on their face. Once they're in a smaller group, they're passionately discussing the details of the game and happily boasting about their triumphs (while glossing over all of the whining and and slip-ups lol)

Loser type | Booo, such a sore loser. (Especially in the scenario where Rain wins 🤣) If they're outsmarted or outgunned in a clear, transparent way they'll growl and stomp off, then quietly glower and sulk for way too long. If they're double-crossed or beaten in an underhanded way oh lord —they're fighting it to the end. R can't help but get involved either way, reminding them it was a damn game with literally no prize. "C'mon, Vi, chill. You want ice cream? Let's get you ice cream."

Heidi

Shooting | 6 - Some shooting experience.

Stealth | 8 - She's very aware of her surroundings and her body. Perceptive yet quiet. Tactical. All residual traits picked up from her many activities over the years.

Strategy | 9 - Most likely to outsmart everyone. The first one to figure out groups are being targeted from the trees. Goes it alone and only open to trading (unless she sees Curt with Jess in which case she puts a quick pin in her plans to rescue her 😂). She also immediately figures out it's Kile, because ofc it is. Keeps close tabs on what groups are doing, knowing that eventually Kile will come down to ground level to pick off individuals and couples. Predator becomes prey 👀

Winner type | Proud but not boasting. She doesn't need to be. Victory looks good on her, natural and fitting. Thanks everyone for a good game then takes the girls for a long ride in the Cadillac 😎 top down on a bright day, baby

Loser type | Damn. She should have won this. Maybe if she'd... She probably could have... Then she snaps out of it, roped in by the celebratory mood of congratulating the winner. She's over any feelings of frustration or regret after getting to discuss the match with the person that took her out/the winner and there's no hard feelings. If anything this was fun as hell, it should be an annual thing. ☺️

Curt

Shooting | 8 - Some shooting experience and a natural knack for it. Good reflexes.

Stealth | 8 - Curt likes to say he gets along with the woods around these parts. Sneaking around is second nature to him. Really good hearing too. He's an easy target if you manage to seduce him though, having no issue leaving himself vulnerable if it means that kind of fun 😂

Strategy | 7 - Honestly, he's most interested in seeing how long he can get away with using charm and seduction for both protection and double-crossing 😂 Eventually becomes persona non grata and gets all of his ammo stolen by a vengeful mark, barely getting away in the process. Since that jig is up, he finally starts thinking a win might be nice... and so he teams up with the only competent player who would never betray him and also inspires the least vitriol in others: Jessie. What? Is his back-up plan using her as a human shield? No! 😚 Of course not! 👉👈

Winner type | Insufferable and gloating. Rubs it in a lot of people's faces, specifically Heidi, Rupan/Rohan, and any participants who genuinely don't like him. Brags to Gabe (who is completely disinterested in gassing him up 😂), then promises he'll make things up to Jessie (who didn't mind and had fun lol). Then celebrates by asking whoever he's flirting with these days for a quick date—and a ride in the Ferrari. Makes a scene pulling out of the parking lot. Ass.

Loser type | Doesn't care one bit as long as he had fun! And he always finds a way to have fun, it's why he's so carefree 😅

[craftypeaceturtle]

Bewitching

Summary: Roman and his trusted friend, Logan, embark on a journey to visit their local witch. 

Note: I was inspired by a post that described this like exact concept. This is just a small fic that struck me! I have no idea why I am only capable of writing rare pair fics but hey ho! At least I’m writing. Analogical and Royality. 

.

“Do you even understand where we’re supposed to be going?” Logan muttered as he tried to massage away his upcoming headache. Unfortunately his headache bounded into his side with a wide smirk. 

“Of course! It’s only a simple path through Sanders Woods,” Roman announced as he continued marching through the castle with proud wide steps.

“Do I even need to deconstruct how vague those directions truly are?” 

“Pfft! I’m not an idiot Logan. I do have a map. You just follow through the main path through Sanders Woods but then at some specific stump or something stupid, you turn and then boom! Witches!” Roman wiggled the paper in his face but even that movement didn’t hide that it was just some rushed notes on a napkin from his father. It looked like just simple lines and labels. There wasn’t even an compass pointing north! 

“Ah I stand corrected then, your majesty. Truly you must be a true scholar in the geologies,” Logan sighed and Roman checked his shoulder.  

They were being sent on the incredibly (vague, according to Logan) journey to go track down the kingdom’s local witch to re-establish their trade. A journey that sounded very important and essential so when Logan first heard it, of course he immediately offered his service. The warning sign should have been that Roman was conducting the journey. Another warning sign (as there were many), was the fact that to re-establish their trade, they were trading a kitten and were expecting to get cookies in return. It all painted the very obvious picture that the king wanted his son to do his chores and so asked his friend to ensure the task got done. But then again, Logan prided himself as a man of honour and he wouldn’t refuse to conduct on this journey. He was nobler than this pettiness. He was more serious than any one of the royal family members. He would take great pride in this stupid task.

“Logan!” Roman shouted, Logan whipped round to face him, “Do you mind leaving the kitten alone for at least one second and help me pick out an outfit?”

“Pick an outfit?” Logan squealed indignantly, ignoring his own burning blush as he followed Roman into his room, leaving the poor mewing kitten to sprawl around its basket, “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

He was wearing his typical outfit which was his full princely attire. A pristine white tunic with gold embellishments that all highlighted the strong red of the emblem on his sleeves. He would usually wear a bright red sash across his chest but instead he was flinging it about like a child first trying to learn ballet. But now he blushed bright enough to match the emblem. “We’re meeting new people. Of course a prince should always present their best foot forward.”

“Oh all princes?”

“Okay, don’t pretend that’s fair! We all know that Remus is an octopus dressed as a prince. He shouldn’t be considered along with all other princes!” 

“An octopus?” Logan chuckled.

“Dad got at me for constantly calling him a rat so I’m calling him an octopus. Just as ugly but this time dad thinks it’s just some weird nickname,” Roman said way too proudly for someone who was in his twenties and definitely above sibling squabbles. Then again this was indeed Roman. 

“Ah, you are just so charming and intelligent, your majesty,” Logan smirked before he also bumped their shoulders, “But don’t think that will distract me. Please promise me that you will not flirt with the witch.”

“It’s not flirting! It’s called being friendly, not that you would know that Intronerd!” 

“It’s definitely flirting. And it definitely taints any and all official communication. Do I even need to retell the event with Janus?”

“Right! I’m all ready to go, are you?” Roman bellowed, rushing past him with a satchel of bare essentials. Logan simply sighed and carefully cradled the basket with the kitten. 

It was just after midday and they were finally on their way, the guards around the castle grounds waved with barely hidden laughs. Roman frowned at them and clutched Logan to his side. He was well aware of his reputation around the castle. Foolish and way too optimistic. It stung each time but then Roman knew himself better than any guard could. Plus he could always sick Remus on them! But he also knew Logan was quickly getting mixed in with that reputation. A truly genuine travesty to this world. Logan was a bold, determined and so quietly compassionate but he was only regarded as dumb and easily flustered. And Roman could get it! Like yeah, seeing this emotionless guy walk out of the grounds cradling a kitten was funny, but he knew Logan well enough to laugh at how lovey he was really. They just laughed at the ditzy dumb consort who pretended to be cold and collected. Yet Logan always remained oblivious and Roman would risk his life to ensure it would remain that way. 

He wished he could say it was a beautiful summer’s morn with the birds chirping their victory as they headed into the deep mysterious forest. But instead the sky was a striking grey with a wind that was just the wrong side of cold. Reports stated it would rain in the afternoon and he was unfortunately momentarily defeated by the allure of sleeping in so he couldn’t leave early enough. Meh, he was pretty sure Logan appreciated the extra hours to sit around doing nothing! He waved the famous royal wave to a bunch of children who scattered at their approach with amazed giggles while Logan did his usual Logan thing of keeping his eyes forward and walking away before they could talk. Perhaps it was for the best, they had to focus. 

Well... ‘focus’. The journey was important and all but also this tiny little ginger kitten snuggling into Logan’s muscly bulky arms was very distracting. 

The path into the woods was very simple. It was a worn away path in the grass that become wider and wider each time he saw it. It was pretty much a very wonky lane straight through the forest and the map clearly presented an equally wonky line to a blackened tree stump that “they could not miss”. Then turn left and, as he eloquently put it, boom! Witch. In all honesty, the journey was the very last thing on his mind currently. Sanders Woods was big but it was so close to the kingdom that there was never anything too dangerous in there- people travelled through it every day. But, Roman prided himself on his studies into the kingdom’s history and all the fables and stories that it inspired. It didn’t take a genius to know that witches meant trouble. Witches cursed and violently lashed out at any hero that came their way. 

He stared up at Logan out of the corner of his eye. Logan looked the part certainly with his official royal uniform and he was fairly built. But Roman also knew Logan. While he could look intimidating, he was anything but. At the first sign of conflict he would freeze, and even if he didn’t, he was in no way trained for battle. He looked built but his muscle purely came from grabbing heavy books from high shelves. He wouldn’t last a second against a witch in a physical battle.

“How have your studies been going?” Roman innocently asked innocently.

“As expected, why?”

“What do you mean why! I can be interested in your studies! What are you learning about now? It was magic right?” Roman kept his focus on his light marching steps. Logan huffed a chuckle.

“Magic is such a broad term I don’t even know how to go about correcting you. Yes, I have largely been studying magic. It is...” Logan scrunched his face up, “going, to put realistically. I’m struggling to fully grip the module I am currently on. But overall, my study of magic is going better than I first thought. How are your studies? Are you studying anything right now?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Not really. I finished the whole economics junk and I have a bit of a break before I launch back into studies. Trying to make the most of it,” Roman answered honestly but he kept his gaze straight ahead, “Anyway, what kind of magic are you doing? Like any... cool spells?” 

“Cool... spells...” Logan said, stopping completely in his path, “Why are you so interested?”

“As I said! I can be interested in what my friend is doing!” 

“You haven’t ever before taken interest in my, how did you put it, ‘nerdy junk’!” 

“Well!” Roman snarked back but he could feel Logan looking right through him, “It’s just important to know what kind of magic you can do. Just in case we ever n-”

“You think this is dangerous don’t you!” Logan gasped, feeling panic slam into his chest. 

“What?” Roman nervously laughed off, “No...”

“You do!” Logan dramatically pointed at him, “Oh we don’t have nearly the right supplies for any kind of conflict! We’re carrying around a cat!” 

“It won’t be dangerous!” Roman tried to soothe while panickily pacing. 

“I asked you! I asked you! I asked and you said that it was a simple trade. That we are practically just acting as postmen!” Logan threw his head back. 

“I’m sorry!” Roman gasped.

“You’ve got your sword. Plus, I really don’t think your dad would send us on some dangerous journey without at least some back up. I think you just got into your head with worry. There’s lots of rumours about witches despite those spreading them having never met a witch, we should be fine,” Logan answered softly. There was no use having them both panicking when they were already significantly through the woods. But then again maybe they could turn back now before they truly prove themselves to be idiots. 

“Yeah!” Roman lit up and snapped up straight with an obnoxious smile, “C’mon, we’ll be fine!”

Logan simply ran through his warning signs he listed earlier about how this task was a stupid chore. His hand found the kitten’s fuzzy little forehead and he gave some scritches before following in Roman’s footsteps. 

It was another hour where each minute felt more and more uncomfortable. They were a decent way through the woods but they had yet to see anything resembling a tree stump. Even Roman was now flicking his gaze behind him, checking to see if they had perhaps passed it without realising. Logan was practically chanting about how King Thomas wouldn’t send his idiot of a son on a difficult journey without a proper map. But then again both of his sons were idiots so maybe he just chose Roman as the lesser of two evils? Maybe the wobbly scrawled line on the map was just longer than expected. This was why people added scales and a compass! Eventually they paused at a blackened tree. They didn’t even talk or notice the other had paused as well. 

“Maybe by stump they more meant a stumpy tree?” Roman cautiously looked around. 

“Did your father not describe it any more than that?” Logan asked, still not convinced.

“I mean he even drew it in black!” Roman yelled out in what was supposed to be confidence. Logan winced as Roman marched slowly forward into the treeline.

“That cannot be where the line is. That map should never be considered as accurate or, or- just slow down Roman. We have no idea if this is the right direction!”

“Yeah well, we literally just go left into the trees. If it turns out to be wrong then we know which direction we went and just go back.”

Logan sighed at the legitimate logic the illogical prince presented, “It’s going to rain soon.”

“Well hurry up then!” Roman had already started running into the woods and Logan grumbled out some swears before reluctantly trudging after him. 

Now underneath the thick canopy of the woods, it was quite dark and moody. Roman tried to lighten the mood by pointing out every single squirrel that skittered away when they passed but even that didn’t fix the tension. The ideas of danger were swirling uncomfortably through them. The kitten was now restless and was mewing very pathetically. Logan winced at each quiet mew and Roman knew that it was a matter of seconds before Logan demand they go back and get the kitten to safety. And he was about to agree until he saw a tiny mushroom on a tree.

It softly glowed, and if that wasn’t a strong enough indicator of magic and witches, it was illuminous purple. It almost seemed transparent as black smoke billowed underneath it’s surface but it still somehow glowed brightly. 

“Logan, I think we’re almost there,” Roman muttered and tugged him forward.

“Roman.” Logan stopped them dead in the path. He was shifting and looking away but his back was straight and his posture screamed listen. Roman, of course, stopped in his tracks. “What if they use the cat... like... what if they kill the cat?”

Roman paused. That... would be very in character for witches. The kitten was frumpily stomping around and of course released an adorable mew as if it very well knew they were talking about it. “We’ve got to establish trade routes... Maybe we could be the ones to persuade them to see the light and understand cuteness and love for all living things!”

“Hmm.” Logan took the lead and stepped forward. 

They had walked for another ten minutes but yet the woods felt unrecognisable. The woods went from very stereotypical brown and green woods that seemed to stretch onwards forever. Now the mushrooms were everywhere and they couldn’t see the trunks of the trees anymore. The forest was filled with an overwhelming nauseating swirls of colours. Now they were seeing flashes of deer and groans from toads under their feet. The sun was completely blocked from the trees and it was almost like walking inside a building. 

It wasn’t long until they stumbled finally into a cottage looking house. A thatched roof and everything. It almost blended in, blackened charred wood with no windows or even sign of anyone living there. Dead leaves were still swamped up again its sides like it was still autumn. Logan cradled the kitten tighter and Roman couldn’t exactly blame him. 

It seemed straight out of a storybook. 

When the main characters stumble into the villain’s lair. 

Roman gulped and latched on arm on to Logan’s shoulder, which Logan happily sank into. They approached the door in timid steps. The wind harshly ripped through the forest, whipping around the wet clumps of leaves around the sunken door. The rain finally arrived and a few drops pattered on the ceiling of leaves. Logan stuttered in his steps but Roman winced and guided him forward. 

As they were a few metres from the door, it slammed open. 

“AAAH!” They both shrieked. 

A witch stood there... kinda proudly. He had a wide stance and the hood hid his face. But also his arms were crossed and he was hunched over to look extra small. He probably reached Roman’s shoulder standing straight... he looked like the wind around his house would knock him over. But also the billowing black cloak and clenched fists also spoke for themselves. “What are you doing here!” A whiny voice broke through their panic. 

Logan was clearly frozen and his mind only screaming about the kitten in his arms. It took a few moments for Roman to realise he wasn’t going to snap out and talk. He stuttered out, “Oh ah... hello there. We are fr- We come from the kingdom of Sanders to present a trading opportunity. I understand you have been in discussion with our king to re-establish our long ancient trading with you, Witch.”

The witch frowned, “Oh I’m not a witch. That’s Patton you’re looking for.”

He pointed over his shoulder to a cottage past his house. Now this looked like the idyllic cottage countryside house. Thatched roof, pristine pastel pink house and a beautiful neat line of wild bluebells. Roman found himself drawing near it without realising. It looked beautiful and the house straight out of his dreams. “Oh sorry sir! C’mon Logan, we’ll sort this out!” Roman tugged his arm but Logan remained statue still. “Uh, Logan?”

Logan was completely trapped under the gaze of the random civilian that stumbled into.  His chest glowed along with his bright red face. The man had very strong features and was clearly much more awkward than anything dangerous. It took a minute before he realised that words were needed if he was just going to stare, “Oh H-hi, I’m Lo...” He winced but tried to battle through, “Y-you’re not a witch?”

“Nah, I’m... I guess you’d call it emo and just hate people,” The guy awkwardly chuckled as he stepped out from his doorway. Logan allowed himself to smile and only just remembered Roman’s advice to puff out his chest and show himself off. Right, time to sweep this handsome man off his feet. 

“Ah I understand that sentiment. People can be so frustrating and exhausting.” The man walked forward before he awkwardly looked away.

“Uh can I?” The man asked with his hand out stretched towards his chest. Logan burst into a childish smile. Maybe Roman was right and he is handsome! All that heavy book lifting did pay off if cute emos then wanted to feel up his chest! Maybe he can sweep someone off their feet. Maybe he should work out more!

“Sure!” He squeaked.

The man smiled in thanks before grabbing the kitten from his arms and pressing loud sappy kissies to his fuzzy little forehead. His croaky foreboding voice snapped to a squealing happy coo. 

Roman laughed at how ridiculous he was and went down to the next house. He’s never seen Logan so useless! He was never going to let me live this down- after all that teasing he’s been putting up with for flirting with Janus. Now he had some fuel to fight back. 

He knocked on the door with a new found confidence as the rain finally started to slip through the leaves and actually start to slowly soak him. Humming to himself, he looked back at Logan still failing to flirt with the random scary guy. He’d never be that useless. The door opened, “Hello there. Are you the witch that lives in these wooooo-”

A young man opened the door with a cheery smile, ginger curls flying about his head with wire frame glasses. Freckles absolutely everywhere. He was a little taller than even him! He was of course wearing a pink frilly apron with a blue soft chunky knit jumper. Everything about him looked soft. “Oh hello there. What’s your name!” 

“Uhhhhhhh... Ro?” Roman awkwardly drawled out while trying to pick his jaw off the floor. He looked back at Logan who was now walking over with the other man. 

“Hey Pat. We need a talk.” He growled out while Patton awkwardly laughed. Instinctually, Roman stepped forward to protect this marshmallow from this emo. 

“Y-yeah Virge?”

“Did you really organise for the king to sneak you a kitten?”

“Maaaybe!” Patton squeaked before launching forward and spinning him in tight excited circles. Logan was now carrying the kitten, he looked very confused and flustered as he kept his gaze firmly on the kitten. 

“Don’t distract me! You’re allergic!”

“Well are you going to make these nice young men walk all the way back with the heavy basket and wiggly little itty bitty kitty!” 

The man, Virgil, frowned with a look. “Okay. I will take the kitten and you can have visiting rights. But! Those visiting rights can be revoked at any time!” 

“Yippee!” Patton laughed with all of himself. His arms flailing into a hug for himself, his belly bursting and moving with the genuine happy laughter. Roman was thoroughly star struck. 

“Can’t believe you’re the witch of us...” Virgil groaned with his own fond smile, to which Logan was also star struck. 

They both paused as a fat raindrop slapped against Patton’s forehead. The rain must have been truly heavy if it was still dripping through the thick canopy. They turned and faced the two men and only now noticed that they were fairly wet with their hair plastered against their foreheads. They did look pretty pathetic.

Patton smiled, “Hey, Ro was it? Would you like to come in? Just to wait for the rain. Sorry, uhh,”

“Logan,” Logan introduced.

“Logan, the house is fairly small but I’m sure Virgil would love to show you around his little place!” Patton smirked innocently. 

All three of them gulped with bright blushes... but of course they all nodded along to that plan.

[1a-imagines]

A knights promise (part 2)

(Knight!Midoriya x reader)

↬Warnings: smut

↬Summary: After finally running away so you can be together, you find travelling isn't as easy or fun as you first thought. Luckily you have someone to take your mind off it.

↬A/n: This is day 18 of the Izumonth collab! You can find the collab post here.

This is a part 2 if you want to read part 1 you can find that here! But honestly, this one is mostly just smut so i guess you don’t really need to read part one. It just gives a bit more insight into their relationship and goals.

Also the art is mine, I'm really nervous to post my art, especially since its kinda old art and my style has changed a lot, so I don't love it. But I drew this awhile back and thought it would go well with this fic since its fantasy izuku. Anyway! Hope you enjoy ^^

↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬↬

You shuffled closer to Izuku's side, half hiding behind him, hoping his body would act as a shield against all the wildlife.

Izuku couldn’t help but chuckle at the way  your nose crinkled up at the new environment.

"Have the forests always been so-..." you paused thinking of the right word to say. "disgusting?” you asked as you stepped around yet another puddle of sludge. Your hands tightened around his arm. The forest was indeed a beautiful sight from the palace windows, but now you were trudging through mud and wet grass, your boots already caked in dirt, it wasn't as enchanting as you thought it would be.

Izuku gave your hands a light pat. “I know you’re not used to these conditions yet, but I think you're overreacting a bit, princess. It’s just a bit of mud.” He giggled at your sour expression. Truth be told he expected you would be a lot more enthusiastic about the whole situation, finally having freedom, getting to date him without worry, travelling to far off kingdoms and learning new things. You had always dreamed of such a life.

Though it seemed you never thought through the possibility that not everything would be easy and perfect.

"Still, had I have known it would've been this bad I would've brought bigger boots." You muttered. So far this whole 'adventuring' thing has had its ups and downs, like yesterday when you both found that hidden waterfall, the water was sparkling in the sun, vines the trees hung low to keep it hidden as flowers bloomed around the edge of the lake. It was lovely, you both got to splash around in the sun, make a campfire and sit under the stars when night came. It was amazing! One of the most beautiful nights of your life in fact. However, walking through blank fields filled with nothing but muddy sludge wasn't so magical.

A yelp escaped your throat when you were suddenly lifted into the air. You instinctively wrapped your arms around Izuku’s neck as he carried your bridal style. With raised eyebrows you turned to the man who held you in his arms. "What are you doing?" You asked Izuku who grinned in response, "The mud is bothering you right? And as your knight it's my job to protect you even from nature!" He declared, you couldn’t help but smile at him.

"You're not technically my knight anymore, I ran away, remember? So I'm not royalty." While his logic confused you, you weren't about to complain that you were his arms. "I'll always be your knight, royalty or not, I'm always going to protect you." His smile melted your heart, like the sun beaming down on an ice cream cone.

You pressed your flushed face into his shoulder, deciding not to reply. He looked so determined there was no way you would win this argument.

He carried you for hours, and with every step he took guilt stacked another brick onto your heart. Weren't you getting heavy for him. Surely he must be getting tired? He was strong, no doubt. He had trained sith the royal guards, as well as in his spare time, for years! But carrying another human in your arms for hours!? Even the strongest of men would tire eventually.

Catching your eyes he smiled at you, silently reassuring you that he was ok. You purse your lips in response, not believing him, you had already asked him countless times if he was tired, you had told him he could put you down whenever he wanted, but it seemed like he was pretty content with you in his arms.

The more he walked the denser the forest grew. It was a nice day, the sun's light caressing your skin in the best of ways, the breeze brought a refreshing chill every now and then, you could have fallen asleep in his arms then and there. "I don't think we're going to make it to the next down by sundown.." He muttered, shaking his head with a sigh.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have carried me so far, we left the muddy field hours ago and you still won't put me down." You giggled, playfully poking his cheek with your finger. . He blinked, a blush coating his cheeks. "I-I just like holding you!"

He was indulging in the fact he no longer had to hide his love and affection for you, carrying his princess in his arms was just another way to show the outside world who you belonged to, despite having passed no people at all. It was more for his own satisfaction.

"There's a cave over there! We can rest there for tonight!" Your voice snapped him from his thoughts. Your finger pointed out to a lake with a waterfall. It was hard to see but there was a small, circular, opening in the rocks of the cliff. "Good find!" He smiled at you as you jumped from his arms and hurried towards the cave, you wanted to make sure it would be safe enough to sleep in tonight. Izuku pouted as you ran off, already missing the warmth your body provided.

He followed you into the cave, it wasn't big

but it was dry and would keep you hidden from the dangers the night brought. "This will do for tonight, from the looks of the clouds over the mountains it's going to rain soon and we don't want to be stuck outside when it does. That would mean more mud." He grinned at you, nudging you with his elbow. You flushed at the jab he made and turned your head away.

What a tease.

You both took off your bags and placed your items down, Izuku went off to collect sticks to make a fire and you began to roll out your sleeping bags. You kicked away all the stones and dirt before placing them down next to each other. You made sure there was enough room for the campfire, you weren't working with a whole lot of space and the last thing you needed was for your beds to catch fire.

You finished your task relatively quickly and decided to walk outside to the lake's edge. There was a small pathway around the water leading to your cave. It was narrow, meaning you both had to shuffle along sideways to get in and out of the cave,

but it also meant the likelihood of others finding or walking into your cave was very slim.

You took your shoes off at the entrance of the cave and sat down, dipping your feet and lower calves into the water. You closed your eyes and leaned back onto your hands, taking in all the sounds of nature. The rusting of tree leaves, the calls of birds singing with each other, the sloshing of the water as you gently kicked your legs.

Izuku found you peacefully becoming one with nature, a smile made its way to his lips. He figured it would be hard for you to adjust to such a big lifestyle change, going from silk sheets and servants tending to your every need to sleeping bags and having to fend for yourself wouldn't be easy for everyone. You certainly struggled with some of it but at times like this, when you were soaking in the sun, and allowing your surroundings to bring you peace he couldn't help but feel pride for you.

You were doing your best to enjoy this new lifestyle, no matter how much of a shock to your system it was.

He left you alone for now and got to setting up the fire, it took about ten minutes to get the fire going, just in time for thunder to roar from over the mountain tops, a cry of war directed to nature.

You walked back into the cave to avoid being caught in it. Izuku handed you some fruit to snack on, he wished he could offer you a nice meal but when travelling, it wasn't that easy.

“Stop pulling that face.” You said as you took the apple from him, and took a bite.

He blinked, looking up to meet your eyes. “W-what?” You frowned, sitting down beside him, the fire crackling before you both as raindrops began to fall from the sky outside. "You keep pulling that face, as though you're afraid you're not doing good enough."

You could read him like an open book. Granted he never tried to hide his feelings from you. He just wanted to make you happy, you must be so used to your lavish lifestyle, but now you're stuck trudging around in mud and living off apples for every meal. He looked down at the ground, his lips parted as he tried to speak but no words came.

"You already know why I left, but allow me to remind you." You flicked his forehead, a way to get him to look back at you. He frowned, rubbing the sore spot on his head. "I left because I want to be with you, no matter where we are. Whether I'm sitting in a palace eating a piping hot meal or in a cave eating an apple. None of that matters to me, what matters is that I have you by my side." Your hand came up to his cheek, the pad of your thumb brushing over his red cheek.

He half smiled at you, there was still some uncertainty despite your words. However, he wouldn’t be Izuku if he wasn't always worrying over all the little details. You chose to be with him, and he was determined to give you the best life possible. Even if he had his worries he always appreciated you trying to reassure him. He was so lucky to have someone like you in his life, someone willing to give up everything for him. He silently vowed to give you the rest of his life in return. He nuzzled into your hand, pressing it closer to his face. “I love you.” he whispered.

“I love you too.” You smiled, brushing some hair from his eyes before moving in as he did to join your lips in a sweet kiss.

What was meant to be a reassuring peck quickly turned into tongues dancing and hands fumbling. A kiss that stole your breath away. Your hands trailed from his cheeks, down his neck to place on his shoulders. He shivered at your feather-like touches that glided across his skin. His hands pulled you forward by your waist bringing you to his chest.

Your head titled as his did, deepening the kiss. You hummed as his tongue traced over your lips, desperate to feel more of you. You parted your lips, getting up on your knees, never breaking the kiss, and shuffling forward until you were close enough to straddle his lap. He felt him smile into the kiss when you sat on him, like he had gotten his way. His skin was already tingling despite the layers of clothes in the way.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at the locks, wordlessly begging for more. He got the hint, his hands pushing under your shirt and taking it off in one movement. His scarred hands began tracing shapes into your back as you began gasping for air. He pulled back from your lips, teeth gently tugging at your lip as he did so.

When you looked into his eyes you saw them burning with desire and that alone was enough to send a pool of heat to your core. He moved forward again, lip connecting to your neck, his hot breath fanned against your skin sending shivers down your spine, a small hum escaping your lips as you pulled his head closer.

He left marks all over your neck and collarbone, sucking and nibbling at your soft skin. He soon trailed down to your chest as he unclasped your bra and moved it aside. His eager lips attached to your breast, and while his mouth began to suck on your sensitive buds, playing and groping with the mounds of fat as his hands rolled your hips forward. A groan echoed through the cave when he felt your clit grinding against his growing erection. You moaned, taking the hint and grinding against him creating a heated friction between you. The way you hugged him closer, begging for more, how your hips desperately rolled forward to feel more of him, it turned him on so much he could feel the blood rushing to his throbbing cock.

He pulled away from your breasts, his hands fumbled with your pants. He did take a second to catch his breath as he pulled your pants off leaving you only in panties. He took a second to admire your body, hands caressing up and down your sides as his eyes drank you in. "Gods… you're so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?" He smiled, pressing a loving peck to your bare shoulder. He was always so sappy, even now when you were grinding against him.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek and yanking on his hair. You were desperate to feel more of him, you needed him. He got the hint and pulled off his own pants, throwing them to the side before taking off his shirt. You looked over his scars, pressing kisses to a few of them.

Once you were both rid of all the clothes that kept you apart, he picked you up bridal style, carrying you over to the fur sleeping bags. He lay you down, coaxing your legs apart so he could get between them, your lips locked again, your naked bodies rubbed together, it felt so much better without the clothes in between. He moaned, getting up onto his knees and fisting his hard cock in his hand.

He gave you an expecting look and you crawled forward. You sat back on your knees when you reached him, looking up at him through your lashes, pupils dilated. He smiled down at you, one hand petting your hair as the tip of his cock traced around your lips. "Open up, princess." He whispered and you obeyed.  

He pushed his hips forward until his ball hit your chin, tears peaking at the corner of your eyes as you swallowed his length, the tip hitting the back of your throat. He wiped them away for you, "Suck on it for me princess." He muttered breathlessly.

Your tongue circled around the tip, the salty taste of pre cum hitting your taste buds. You bobbed your head up and down, impatience  making your actions erratic. He breathed out, eyes sliping close as he marvelled in the feeling of your hot mouth around his aching cock. It took everything in him not to start thrusting forward into your mouth, but he didn't want to hurt you.

You grabbed onto his hips for better leverage, quickening your pace. Saliva began to drip from your mouth, onto your bouncing tits. "Mhh, yeah, just like that baby." You removed one hand from his side and slipped it between your legs, his loud moans and words of praise were too much for you, your ever growing heat needed to be tended to.

Izuku opened his eyes to see where your hand had gone, and upon seeing you pleasuring yourself as you sucked on his member got too overwhelming. His head went back, toes curling as he inhaled a sharp breath. "P-princess i'm going to cum!" he let out a strangle moan, his body curling forward as he released his hot seed into your mouth. He panted as you pulled away, cum covered your lips. Your tongue poked out to lick up every drop as you stared deep into his eyes.

His lips parted at the sight of you greedily lapping up his cum. You smiled at his reaction before laying back down on the sleeping bag. He smiled back, crawling over your body. You were far from done.

He connected his lips back to yours, noses clumsily bumping together, he could taste himself on your tongue, it boosted his ego. Your hips began to rock against his, your slick coating his cock as it slipped between your folds. You sighed into the kiss, grabbing at his hair and neck to pull him closer.

His lips started to trail back down your body, this time going further than your breasts. He kissed his way down your stomach, soon his face was between your legs, he could feel your heat, see your dripping arousal. He licked his lips, squeezing your thigh before diving forward. His tongue pushed inside your hole, lapping up your juices, his nose buried deep into your clit.

You gasped, back arching and toes curling when your aching core finally had some attention. He moaned at your taste, sending vibrations down your spine. Your beautiful noises of pleasure bounced off the walls of the cave. Neither of you had to be quiet anymore, there were no guards, no servants, not even family to be careful of, and he wanted to hear you scream out his name.

"Fuck! p-please. Just fill me up already." You mewled. He looked up at you with a grin, pulling away from you as he licked his lips. You'd never seen such an animalistic look in his eyes. It was like a lion stalking in on his prey.

He got onto his knees, grabbing your hips and pulling your forward. He pressed the tip of his cock to your clit, teasingly rubbing it up and down, slapping it a few times. You whined at his teasing before finally pressing it into your hole.

You simultaneously released low groans. Your hands grabbed at the fabric of the sleeping bags as his fingers dug into your hips. A trapped sigh escaped his lips once he was fully in. He gave you a few seconds to adjust as he put your legs over his shoulders and leaned forward so he could grab and hold one of your hands.

"M-move- fuck~ please!" You moaned. He didn't need to be told twice. He began to pound into you without hesitation. Each thrust of his hips made you whimper and whine, you squeezed his hand as the heat in your core grew.

"Mmh~ you're taking me so well. G-Good girl." He whispered, his hips quickening at the sound of your squelching pussy. He moaned, his cock going sliding into deep. As much as his body wanted to throw his head back he fought to keep it forward. He didn't want to miss a second of your expression. You looked so beautiful, your hair falling around your head like some sort of halo. The way you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back as those blissful, slutty moans left your parted lips.

It was all too perfect.

He took his hand from yours, sitting up and changing the position. He bent you over, ass in the air and your glistening pussy on display for him. He moaned at the sight before slipping back inside of you. His hands clamped down on your waist, pulling you back into him. It was so much faster, harder, you were both screaming out in pleasure at the new position. His cock reached new places.

You rolled your hips against him, eyes rolling back into your head as you desperately grabbed for something to hold onto, fearing that you were already about to come undone around him. You felt his hands rub at your ass cheeks, his eyes admiring how perfectly round and plump they were.

He leaned over your body, chest against your back, one hand holding him up as the other moved around to your swollen clit. He drilled into you as his fingers rubbed circles into your clit. His lips leaving small kisses to your bare shoulder in between his moans.

"Oh.. oh, Y/n~ princess." He panted into your ear. "Are you ready to be filled?" He asked, nuzzling your neck with his nose. His toes were digging into the floor as he felt his throbbing cock ach for release. He wanted to stuff you full of his cum as you screamed out his name.

You nodded, moaning out a string of yes's. You pushed your hips back, keeping up with his lightning speed, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. He closed his eyes, back arching as he felt his hot ropes of cum spill inside of you as you cried out his name, your juices spilling over his hand. Your body curled in on itself as the pleasure washed over you.

He fucked you through your orgasms, only pulling out when his cock had stopped twitching.  

You both collapsed onto the fur. He wasted no time pulling you into his arms, hand moving around to massage your hips as he always did. You did your best to ignore the feeling of his cum slipping out of you and dripping onto your thigh.

With a light kiss to your forehead he pulled you to lay on his chest. "You ok, princess?"

You giggled at his concern. "We've done this so many times now and you still worry about hurting me?" His face flushed red, eyes turning away to look at the pouring rain outside the cave. "I-I would never want to hurt you." He confessed.

You took his face into your hand, turning him to look at you. You pressed a kiss to his lips and lay your head back down. "It was amazing as always. Don't worry."

He nodded, both of you laying in silence for a while as you enjoyed the sounds of nature. The calming sounds of rain showering down from the sky, the cackling of the fire that kept you both warm. It was so peaceful. There were no other people in sight, no guards, royals, townspeople. It was just you two, alone, how you both had always wanted it to be.

"You never told me what your mom said when you told her we were leaving." You turned to face him again, resting your chin on his shoulder. His hand ran through your locks absentmindedly.

"She was happy for us. She said she was glad i was following my heart, that i found someone who loves me enough to give up everything they have just to be with me." He smiled, recalling her reaction. "All she asks is that we come back to visit every now and then, and when we eventually find a good home to settle down in, we have to send her a letter telling her our whereabouts so she can come visit us too."

You smiled, it would be so nice to have her visit your home, to be able to cook for her for once. She always took good care of you whenever you went to visit. You couldn't wait to return the favour. "That sounds nice doesn't it?"

He hummed in agreement, the image of you both living in a cottage, somewhere in the forest. Not too far from civilisation but enough to have your own space. No one to bother you, everyday would be peaceful. You could have spare rooms for guests. Maybe a family and pets someday.

"Yeah, that sounds amazing." He smiled, looking at you. His one and only princess, his first and only love.

He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

[shattered-catalyst]

OCD Subtypes for the RPC

Part 1 is here

Well well well, we are back for Part 2 of the Roleplayer’s Guide to OCD.

Fellow Ocd Folks, I see you in those tags and I'm going to do my best to ensure those obsessions are represented here- BUT understand that physically it is not going to be possible to list every single one because I am one person.  Regardless its incredibly brave of you all to rb and add things in the tags, I know its hard to talk about this shit and I see you. I see you.

Resultantly I typed this out and posted it in formatting to assist with accessibility in mind; if you cannot read it still ( I tried Im sorry!) i recommend the copy and paste method or getting the chrome extension bee-line reader.

 There will be grammatical and spelling mistakes. Im sure spacing is odd some places, but you have to understand doing this is extremely anxiety provoking for me so Im just getting it done when I can.

Remember to use your critical thinking; not everyone has the same symptoms/compulsions/triggers and all that.

OCD is fluid. Its like liquid mercury. One day its a handful of subtypes another day its another different serving.

If you are in general squicked about certain topics even by mention read ahead with your own judgement. Remember us folks that have OCD have many disturbing and distressing experiences so if you are writing a character who has OCD and you can’t read about it just don’t give them that obsessive thought/ compulsion. Make sure writing is still a safe and enjoyable hobby for yourself first and foremost.

But ethically and morally I cannot and will not leave out the more disturbing bits. You have the ability to scroll by, I and many others do not get the chance to escape triggering content that our own mind creates.

So read ahead with your best judgement or at least skip around the squicky parts and educate yourself on what OCD is so people quite using it as a Obsessive Christmas/Corgi/Cat Disorder thing. Alright? Cool beans.

Okay so you made it passed post 1 and got under the read more. Give yourself a gold star for diving into this monster of a document.

Below is a crash course it is not meant to replace actual psychoeducation, personal research, or google. Honestly most of us do our research extensively but because OCD is treated so horribly by social media, media, and society in general.

I wasn’t sure where to throw these together because the education tools to learn fully about OCD are very specialized and thus very restricted. I found that many people DO have these experiences with OCD though so I will represent them throughout. I’ll also sprinkle some of my own experiences so you can get a good reference of a person who has the disorder and not just a randomly generated person.

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So OCD is made up of Obsessions, Trigger, Intrusive thought, Misinterpretation/feared consequence,Somatic and Psychological Anxiety, and Compulsions/Rituals.

Your character may not be able to list all of these. In fact if they aren't in ERP therapy they may not be able to puzzle these things out. But YOU as the writer should know them. Your character won’t be walking around talking to just ANYONE that they have OCD. Remember a huge aspect of OCD is it’s Shame.  The disorder makes us feel intense shame regarding our intrusive thoughts, as a result OCD goes undiagnosed for years especially if it has pediatric onset.

  We won’t tell anyone what we are experiencing or why we are doing x y or z. We act like nothing is wrong because to emotionally react is to admit to yourself- and therefore the world- that you have had this intrusive thought and are therefore by virtue a horrible person.[For further information I would suggest also researching PANDAS].

It may be noticeable if your character has an intrusive thought. They may wince or grimace or roll their eyes certainly, but they won’t open up to Joe at the cafe about how their brain is constantly torturing them. I apparently have a very noticeable eye twitch.

 Depending on the nature of the intrusive thought it will get more or less of a reaction out of me. Its usually dependent on how distressing the intrusive thought is and/or if its a new one.

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You see OCD doesn’t sit still. It never looks the same. You’ll have your long haul intrusive thoughts that are with you for years but then you’ll have weird ass ones that just appear and demand their voice be heard yelling about cars hitting people or squirrels getting eaten.

Some people have similar ones! So while everyone is different there will always be someone out there with an intrusive thought similar to yours.

 For instance; I bonded emotionally with a lady on reddit because we both have intrusive thoughts during storms that animals and the homeless are dying. We were both horribly relieved to find another person and also distressed that every snow or rain storm brings horrible images and whispers to your mind that while you are warm and snug in bed someone is freezing to death. And its all your fault.

Some days are better than others. As with all mental illnesses it isn’t CONSTANT ALARM BELLS. Some days it will be all alarms and other days it will be like a gentle whisper on the breeze. You can almost not notice it. Almost.

Obsessive thoughts run the gauntlet from ‘i will/could have/may/may accidentally harm etc’ something that you hold of value. This is any obsessive thought that you have: you think about repeatedly and not by choice, it is very anxiety provoking, it is unwanted, and unwelcome.

 Mine run the scale from ‘squirrel will be murdered’ to ‘being responsible for harm’.

Compulsions or ‘rituals’ are any behavior done to alleviate the anxiety from the intrusive thought and trigger object. In short, compulsions and rituals are not fun. they are absolutely not logical, and we know they are not logical but we are forced to do them. Thats why its a disorder. 

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To emphasize from post 1: magical thinking and the faulty link between thoughts and actions are hallmarks of OCD.  Magical thinking can be anything from contamination to if I turn around three times or stare really hard at something the bad thing wont happen. Sounds weird and is weird and we know it is thats why its a disorder and not a delusion.

The faulty belief that thought=action is the biggest hurdle it is incredibly difficult to grasp, at least for me maybe some of you that have done further ERP can attest, that the mere concept of a thought not being the same as an action is completely and totally mind blowing.

Free will? Yeah thats terrifying. IDK about anyone else but free will is absolutely terrifying; what do you mean i could do anything i wanted?

Thats how you face OCD(WITH A TRAINED THERAPIST). You give in to ambiguity and the unknown. Its breaking that link between thought and action. Its incredibly difficult and draining. A five minute exposure leaves me in shatters for a week and two five minute ones had me ripping my nails past the nail beds with anxiety.

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Just a reminder: Do not have your character expose themself or expose folks with OCD to a trigger to “ help us get over with”. That is literally forcing someone with a mental illness into a break down and is not helpful. In fact its worse because a person knows about this intrusive thought and they tried to make it real. More shame and some trauma. 

If you have OCD, more likely than not a family member or significant other has tried this with the purest of intentions. But it never works like that. Theres a reason that therapists get special training for this. If people want a post on ERP I can make one at some point. 

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Actually let’s drag me with the squirrel thing as the example- fellow OCD Folks get out a pen and paper and try breaking down one of yours;

Obsession:Squirrel will be murdered

Trigger: seeing a squirrel

 Intrusive thought: Graphic images of a squirrel being murdered by a hawk/ impaling depending on the day

Misinterpretation/feared consequence: Squirrel will be killed and its all my fault

Somatic and Psychological Anxiety:intense anxiety, palms sweating, heart racing,

Compulsions/Rituals: Must stare at the squirrel to prevent bad things from happening, 

Now imagine if that is every time you see a fucking squirrel. You have somehow become completely and totally transfixed on a squirrel and nothing is going to pull your attention away or the squirrel dies- which your mind is giving you lovely images of btw.

Cute right?

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Below are the subtypes with general information/example thoughts/ and how some of these have impacted me socially because apparently some people dont understand that mental illnesses impact their social lives?? yall...

Social: This can range from ‘ i am constantly thinking i did something wrong so i have to ask for reassurance that we are still friends’ to completely unrealistic worries. Maybe its an intrusive thought that ‘ your voice is annoying them’ . There’s reassurance seeking, internal and external checking.

 It makes friendships extremely difficult and exhausting. You’re not trying to get to know someone with an annoying frat boy egging on anxiety in your brain. This can also manifest as having strict rules for yourself and ethical codes. 

My therapist likes to say she could give us (folks with OCD) a pile of hundred dollar bills and come back and they’d all be returned. Because OCD makes you so strict and morally confined. Which ISNT fun. Like I dont get pleasure over having to memorize the entire Code of Conduct!

Social Media: Its the bane of human existence some days and a lifeline the next. But what if everytime your follower count was an odd/even number it sent you into a panic attack. What if you spent all your time with intrusive thoughts that somehow someone misinterpreted a post or that someone is going to be harmed by a post you made about tapirs. 

You may be forced to block people to get your number down or keep pornbots on your blog to keep your number what you like (see there is a use for them! We sacrifice those before actual users!) You may be refreshing your page every second because ‘what if you miss a message’. It's going to look a lot like ‘check check check check reassure yourself double check your posts check check check reassure check check FALSE MEMORY check your post etc’

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Clothing/Body Image: When its not Body Dysmorphia it can be OCD. Sometimes this looks like I obsess about a body part and therefore I choose my clothes/hairstyles to hide those.  Some personal examples: as a kid I was sure that mind readers exist ( THIS IS AN OCD THING TOO I was so relieved to find that out) and that if i didnt wear  a particular hat they would see all these horrible thoughts and it would be revealed what an awful person I was. So I wore the same dumb ass bucket hat for a year (or more I cannot remember but it was a long ass time).

I was once so fixated on being given a compliment on my eye color that I wore sunglasses (even at night) to a summer camp. And if any of those teen girls in that cabin that stood up and mocked me in a crowded lunch hall by singing ‘i wear my sunglasses at night’ you all owe me 40$.

Even younger still I had intrusive thoughts. Like say, if anyone noticed I was female that i would be kidnapped so I chopped my hair very short. I altered my appearance to be very androgynous and even switched to walking more masculine. Because omg if your hips move someones going to kill you thats just how it works. ( It doesnt help I later figured out I was a lesbian)

Your wardrobe may be impacted by OCD and yes so can your body image.

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Also yes the fear of mind readers is also a thing; i always thought I was somehow faking OCD because yes that is also a…..

Faking: Do you value telling the truth? Do you detest lying ? Boy Howdy do I have some news for you. OCD is going to try and convince you that YOU LIED. Whether it was on a chastity pledge to get a free sandwich or in a conversation you just HAD. This links a lot with false memory OCD.

Another aspect is OCD makes us doubt we have OCD and tries to convince us we have any other diagnosis under the sun and we are obviously faking our OCD.

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Sexual Orientation OCD; It is as it is called. Sexual Orientation OCD is what happens when your brain goes ‘hold on what if you’re not this orientation what if you are THAT’. It doesn’t matter where on the LGBT umbrella you fall you will have OCD trying to convince you otherwise. From compulsive staring at members of the same/opposite gender to compulsively reassuring or checking with yourself to ensure that ‘ no no you are in fact THIS orientation.’ 

This can range in behavior from binge watching porn, staring compulsively to check that there is OR is NOT attraction,self checking past experiences and memories, analyzing your clothing and your lifestyle in painful and intricate methods.

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False Memory OCD; False memory OCD is basically your brain sitting you in a noir interrogation room, handcuffing you to a chair grilling you. It demands that you did *insert bad thing here*. This can range from anything from something Harm based to pretty much *anything* from other OCD subtypes. Which is quite delightful really.

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Sensorimotor OCD; Sensorimotor OCD is obsessive body responses. These can be ‘ I have to cough really hard and really feel it right in my chest and if I can’t get it right I have to cough until I do’. This can be counting your heartbeats. Trying to check yourself that you in fact have a heart and checking and reassuring that it is still beating. It can be hyper-awareness of swallowing or even swallowing repeatedly. It is anything with selective attention; ie its an automated process but your OCD is forcing you to be aware of it.

Your OCD makes you aware of the sensation of, say, breathing, and then it convinces you that if you stop paying attention to it you will stop breathing. So now you’re horribly aware and focused solely on breathing and breathing alone. It keeps me up most nights with the pounding anxiety fueled by the pressure of ‘if you stop focusing on breathing you will stop breathing completely’ or waiting to feel that last heartbeat in your chest. 

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Existential OCD; You ever feel existential ? Existential OCD is like having a very aggressive existential crisis that turns you into NEEDING answers IMMEDIATELY. This can look anything from hours panic scrolling the net to panic inducing anxiety because you don't know what happens after death. The thoughts are like foghorns on a misty sea.

This sounds basic and the only example i can give is as a teeny tiny 7 year old I had a panic attack in bed screaming that ‘ what if im a dinosaur and im asleep and i wake up and my whole family is GONE’.

To be fair I did like dinosaurs a lot.

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Harm OCD; This is pretty self explanatory but I will give more details. Harm OCD is OCD demanding that you will/could/can/may have/might harmed yourself/others/any living creature and that you alone are responsible. 

This means anything from getting anxious driving over crosswalks because ‘what if you dont see one and hit someone and its all your fault and you hit someone go back and make sure you havent hit anyone’ to ‘im holding a knife so im going to accidentally stab someone’ to ‘ i didnt see my cat this morning and now im at work and think she must be dead and i am responsible for her demise.’

 It can be as simple as ‘if i use a pencil i will stab myself in the eye’ or as complex as ‘ i may accidentally say a slur’/ ‘ i am going to say this horrible thing out loud if i cannot control myself.’ It can also be images of terror or racist/sexist/ableist jokes in your mind that repeat like a broken record.

(Please note from section 1 that this is extremely anxiety provoking and not something you would do. OCD preys on what we respect the most.)

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pOCD; Tumblr listen the fuck up because I am tired of seeing people get called shit on this website for having this mental illness. People who experience pOCD are not pedophiles, they do not get any pleasure or benefit. The thoughts and images are meant to induce harm to the person experiencing them. Children are normally the trigger for this and the resulting images can be very graphic. Again you aren’t attracted to children- thoughts of them getting harmed hurt you so your OCD makes you see them.

Know this so you can advocate for folks with pOCD in real life. Remember we are here. We are suffering and we are terrified of your children.

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Poisoning others/or in your food; Life isn’t medieval anymore but sometimes OCD demands we have a food taster or that we obsessively worry that we may kill someone with our cooking. Personally I struggle with colorblindness so I am constantly fretful over cooking any sort of meat so it’s difficult for me to cook it.

 However this also comes as; obsessive horrible thoughts of your cooking kill someone or that you have somehow/accidentally poisoned someone’s food (even if you haven’t touched it or been within a foot of it ) or that someone has poisoned YOUR food even if no one has touched it except you. You’re going to be picking apart your food or unable to eat out at all.

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Emotional Contamination: It’s similar to magical thinking and this terrifying prospect of mind readers. Emotional contamination can manifest as anything from intense worry over somehow gaining someone else’s negative personality traits.

 Or that somehow by interacting with any role of someone horrible will make YOU somehow also responsible for the horribleness.  There is usually a person or a type of person that is a trigger, but it can also be location based.

 This is one subtype where magical thinking and superstition are apparent.  

For instance; as a teen if a male was in my space or had physical contact;like shaking hands,giving a high five, being in my room etc. I would have to go around and physically touch all the objects that I perceive they may have also touched as a way to cancel out their presence. 

This includes wiping off myself to negate even the touch of family members. It really hurts peoples feelings, my father was especially hurt by this.

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Physical Contamination: This goes beyond physical dirt and grime. Most of us dont have spotless homes because if you’re having a fist fight with your brain everyday cleaning falls by the wayside just like it would for anyone else. Physical contamination holds 2 things: physical contamination obsessions AND compulsive cleaning behaviors/rituals. We believe that a small amount of a contaminate can cover large surfaces.

 Oh, and did I mention its not JUST dirt/germs/viruses. The list is expansive but heres a mixed bag of what they can be: sticky substances,dead animals,glitter (FUCKING GLITTER),negative words or language,colors, numbers, surfaces in general, food, people, and activities.  There is also a hyper responsibility to protect yourself and others from ‘contamination’.

Strangely there is a magical separation between the contaminated world and the ‘clean’ one. Spaces designated as clean would be a bedroom/bathroom/workspace where you are most active. That space is where the compulsions and intrusive thoughts occur. Its not I MUST CLEAN EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. Otherwise I would be working cleaning houses because why the hell not amiright?

A real world example from a colleague would be a young man with physical contamination OCD is struck with such intrusive thoughts about cleaning that they refuse to allow anyone in their room or any animals in their home. But they are not able to even flush the toilet, take out the trash, wash dishes, or do garbage because of their intrusive thoughts.

The most famous would be compulsive hand washing but I feel it is important to also note OTHER aspects of physical contamination because everyone sees the hand scrubbing stereotype. 

Other compulsions include intricate rituals, not touching the floor (i played X-treme the floor is lava during college. I couldnt let my feet touch the floor because it was ‘dirty’),excessive showering (2-8+ hour showers guys, 8 hour showers. Thats what we’re talking about.)

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Relationship OCD: This comes as no surprise that yes you will have intrusive thoughts that you are somehow harming/ will harm/ may accidentally harm your significant other. Whether that be by physical or emotional means. It can look like ‘ I may have lied to her about how much I love her’, ‘ i may not actually love her and I may be leading her on’, and ‘ I must be corrupting her’. These can extend to certain physical activities with false memory OCD as a cherry on top. A great finishing garnish to leave you feeling absolutely dismayed and unable to trust your own perception.

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Scrupulosity: Religion! Whatever that may be! Its a thing with OCD.  With Scrupulosity obsessive thoughts run all over the board from; you committed a sin and forgot about it you monster to having to pray continuously/ a certain time/ until its right. What is right?Ask OCD that’s the only person who knows. 

We are fairly certain my grandfather had OCD because he went to church for every single Catholic Mass. Every single day. Every. Single. Day.  That’s not a healthy amount of attendance(I'm calling you out posthumously because I care Robert!). This can also look like: praying a certain amount of times. Praying until you do it ‘right’. Confessing every single potential sin. Cataloguing and dwelling over ‘sinful’ things. 

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Symmetry or Just Right OCD: Symmetry OCD is the runner up for ‘most likely recognized on tv shows’ award.

Symmetry OCD convinces you that if *insert thing here* isnt symmetrical or ‘just right’ (a magical position or number of objects that makes 0 logical sense) that something bad will happen.

This can range from the known; rearranging things. But it also looks like buying more objects until you reach the right amount and even throwing out objects if theres ‘too many’.

It can range from ‘the walls are percievably not straight so now i avoid that room at all costs otherwise i will be trapped traveling the edges of the wall with my eyes otherwise it will fall in and murder us ALL.’ to ‘ this historical bust is one inch off to the left and now all i see is visions of it breaking against the ground.’

So that is what I have time for. 9 pages on subtypes and basic information. If you find yourself wanting me information all of this is easily accessible online. So go, be free and dont ever compare people to Monk again. Write Batman and Scott Summers with OCD. Give us ACTUAL representation and not throw away joke lines. We are here. Our suffering isnt funny. We deserve representation too.