#praying on bended knee that we are getting brothers

[respectthepetty]

How do you feel about PheeJin. I'm conflicted. I can see that Phee actually caught feelings, even if he feels guilty about Non still. And Phee and Jin do have chemestry. But I don't know. There was something was missing for me, I guess maybe it felt too fast.

Anyway what do you think are the chances of Phee/Non reunion?? Shall we clown together for a happy ending, or do you no longer see them coming back together??

@italianpersonwithashippersheart, because I'm crazy, once I realized Phi took Jin to Eden from the previews last week, I mentally pushed Jin off a cliff and focused on one sole thing -

NON IS ALIVE!

TLWR: It could get messy between Phi x Jin, White is a problem or salvation, and . . . Keng might be alive too *eye roll*

This entire theory can go up in flames in the next episode, but come with me for a second to Optimistic City:

I thought Phi was the mastermind and that Tan came along for the ride, but Tan is actually the mastermind while Phi is being dragged along. I like that Phi caught feelings for Jin because, hopefully, this means Phi is going to tell Jin about this crazy plan to get a confession, and it's going to come back around that Jin recorded the video; therefore, these two are going to look at each other with disgust unless they are like Babe from Pit Babe and completely cool with it, which I'm also very cool with.

When Phi didn't drink the water, I instantly was like "oh, so he knows it's spiked with drugs!" but then he commented when Jin was freaking out that he hadn't realized it was spiked.

And I love this because it implies that Tan has always had a different agenda and has left Phi out of it.

Since it seems Tan knows more details than we thought.

So if Dead Friend Forever is giving me a story about brotherly love rather than one of romantic love . . .

Then who am I to argue with a tale of redemption.

Which is why I think Keng might be alive.

People have pointed out one of the masked killers is on crutches.

Which would make sense if someone had gotten hit by a car and the injury didn't heal properly.

I don't want Keng to be alive, but the fact remains that Jin keeps seeing Keng, which we know is a hallucination just like all the other guys, while Tan seemed like he genuinely saw an actual person in the house.

The hooded person also looked up at him, and kept it moving.

Yet Phi hasn't seen or heard anything which is why I thought he knew about this hooded figure and was in on it unlike Tan, but why would the hooded figure stop to peek a glance at Tan?

When Top was attacked, Tan was upstairs "sleeping." Before Uncle Dang showed up to the house, Tan had just arrived to see the aftermath of the fight between Phi and Tee. And Tan was quick to suggest they use Por's place for Jin's farewell party in the first place.

But Phi immediately ran to Jin's house to try to speak to him.

And even questioned Tan! It's been over two years since they infiltrated the group. Why now? Why wait two years for a confession?!

Because it's no longer about a confession for Tan.

I mentioned that if Non is alive, it would make sense that he waited to do something until after Tee's uncle was no longer a threat, and homeboy is dead now!

Tan's hallucination was eerily specific: Non was framed. Expose the Fucked-Up Five. Get Non's forgiveness.

And Tan has always thought ALL of the boys are bad and specifically narrowed in on Jin as the reason for his brother's disappearance.

If Phi truly fell for Jin, he will try to protect Jin against Tan who is going rogue. But Tan needs an inhaler. It could hold the antidote if Tan has bigger plans to kill them all, but my original thought was it would be the perfect way to die without dying. He wouldn't have to get stabbed or hit. It would take no physical injury. He would just need his inhaler and not get to in time.

Stop breathing. Pass out. Be a dead body as chaos continues around him, and when the dust clears after the masked killers have finished everyone off, he gets back up and walks out of the woods as New because Tan who has asthma never existed in the first place.

Non was presumed either dead or missing. Both boys could walk out of those woods without anyone even realizing they were there. The only issue is White, BUT he wasn't supposed to be there either.

And yet he is keeping Tee right where he needs to be.

White's only connection to the group is he is dating Tee for almost three years.

His backstory is as thin as Tan's was, but I have never seen him as "in" on the kills. White hasn't been physically harmed unlike the Fucked-Up Five. White continues to remain in the safety of the house when everyone has to venture outside. I want White to live, so either he has his reasons for being on this trip and keeping Tee out there, or White is really as innocent as he appears and Tan will save the little one as an act of redeeming himself for not saving his brother.

Which would make the thrill of Non being alive even sweeter!

Because it would mean that everyone who "wronged" Non suffered. His mom. His dad. The Fucked-Up Five. Phi. (Keng, please God!). And even possibly his brother unless the narrative allows the brothers to be the final love story. It's scorched earth.

Perth's character still exists, and I think he helped Non survive somehow. I have no idea how all of this will turn out, and I'm excited to see, but the second Phi took Jin to Eden, he was dead to me.

And Non was more alive than ever.

[lokideservesahug]

Let's Get Down To Business

Part of the 𝓕1 𝓕𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓼𝔂 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader (Mulan AU)

Warnings:Reader has hair that she ties up but eventually cuts (but no explicit length). No Max yet :( (but he will be in the next part ofc!!). Praying and so many mentions of honour.

Notes: I'm so sorry this took so long but I actually enjoyed writing this (despite being in a writing study for so long). Oh and I hope you enjoy another animal naked reference in this one, tell me if you got it😉

Summary: Your entire life you qerr brought up being told of the importance of honour for bothe you and your family all in preparation for the day you finally meet 'The Matchmaker.' Qell what happens when that day comes and it continues to get progressively worse and worse?

Wordcount: 4.2K

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You can't remember a time before you were made to study. From being taught how to read and write when you were a child to now, being taught to be a lady. There were always strict regulations being enforced on you so you could learn. You take a deep breath. "Graceful, polite." You repeat from the scroll in front of you ad you make neat work, copying the words onto your arm. You continue this process for another few words before your tranquility is broken bu the distant call of a Cockerell.

You bolt up. Oh no...you're going to be late. You scramble out of bed, running around to try and find your dog. "Little brother?" Your shouts only elicit a small huff from the dog on the floor but the noise us enough to make you look down. You bend down and speak in a sickening, high pitch. "Aww there you Are! Aww who's the smartest little doggy in the whole world? Is it you? Yes it is!" You grab a familiar contraption, a light cloth bag, tied to a string with a bone on the end of the stick, left to dangle. "Can you help me with my chores?" You tie the contraption to your dog as you ask the clearly rhetorical question. He begins to run around, crazed and you gently push open the door to outside to give him some direction. He bolts off and you chuckle to yourself as you hear his barks as he runs of and spreads grain and seeds all over your garden.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Your father tries his hardest to kneel in the temple outside. He uses his crutch to lower himself onto his knees, looks above and begins to pray. "Honourable ancestors, please help Y/N to impress the Matchmaker." Little brother runs to the worship gazebo and spreads seeds all over the tile floor. In just a moment, your father is surrounded by a flock of chickens all trying to savour the food. Your father lets out a sigh of despair as he closes of his prayer "Please, she needs it."

You approach the gazebo, tray of tea in hand. A soft whimpering makes you halt in your tracks and you take the bone of the end of the stick and feed it to the desperate dog as he gives you a small bark of thanks. You stand back up and down to your father. "Father, I brought yo-" Your lack of looking up meant that you couldn't anticipate your father being just ahead of you as you began to walk. Meaning that you drop the tray in shock. Your father, somehow manages to catch the handle if the teapot with his walking stick, but the mugs were not as lucky. You look up sheepishly at the sound of shattering pottery. "I'll go and get a spare..." He cuts across you, concern written across his features. "Y/N, you should be preparing already. We are counting and you to uphold-" You chorus your father's familiar words "The family honour. Yes, I know. Don't worry, you know I won't let you down." You hide your ink covered ark as you give your father a confident, reassuring nod. You quickly pivot, calling a gentle "Wish me luck!" as you run down the stairs. Your father shakes his head, brows knitted in worry as he speaks to the dog, "I'm going to go and pray some more."

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You are met by your grandmother, her friends, your mother and your mother's half hidden dissaproving stare. You can already feel the berating on the tip of her tongue. "I'm sorry." You shyly chime before she has a chance to speak. She just shakes her head as she goes to get something for your "makeover".

Your grandmother's friend (a short, kind woman that you have known for as long as you can remember) pulls on your arm and is very succinct on where she wants you to stand and what she wants do in the mean time. She flutters around you, softly chastising your looks, messy hair and slight imperfections. After you are undressed, she all but pushes you into the bathtub behind you and your body is instantly overcome with great shivers.

You manage to grit out through chattering teeth, an unamused "It's freezing." Your mother almost smirks and responds simply with "It would have been warm if you were here on time." Touché. Your grandmother's friend is very smiley and lovely but boy can she be strong when washing your hair. She pulls tighter than the past few minutes and you hold in a wince, knowing it would only cause more harm than good. After she has finished pulling your hair in every direction, she moves away to go, and you suppose get the "company" ready, and your mother lifts your arm. "Y/N. What is this?" You avoid her eyes and the sight of your ink-covered arm as you pull your arm to your body. "Uhm notes?" You nearly slap yourself at your clearly uncertain tone. Your mother just raises an eyebrow "For?" "Incase I forget!" Your mother just scoffs and turns away but you try and remind yourself that this is already the start of you "bringing honour to [them] all."

You're out of the bath and having your hair styled in a blur that is so fast that you don't even get time to think on what's happening around you. There are two even older women then before, both very polite this time, pulling on your hair and twisting it in every way hair can be twisted to the pivot that you think they're even finding ways to deny the laws of physics just to style hair. They finally decide on a hairstyle and a subtle accessory and only moments after, you are shooed out of the door to the next stage of your transformation.

You pass two men in a very involved chess match. You look at the old man, clearly pondering his next move on the smug man opposite him. You move the older man's Knight and walk off (just missing his jovial laugh and his opponent's slack jawed expression). Your mother leads you to a room where she finally has more involvement. Her and another woman? (Seriosly how many women do you need,  it really must take a village then) begin to tie all sorts of fabrics around you, leaving you adorned in an interesting combination (that you can't quite see yet as they refuse to let you move even to glance down).

You walk out of the courtyard yet again, finally feeling slightly more prepared to meet the Matchmaker. You pass along two fairly young children. A boy and a girl. The boy runs laps around the girl who is calmly sat on the floor. Well until he snatches the small doll in her hands. The small terror runs off, giggling, leaving the girl visibly upset. The boy happily skips past you and you lean down and grab the doll from his greedy claws. You freeze and pass the doll to the girl who just gives you a toothy grin (minus a few baby teeth) before nuzzling her head into the doll.

You glance to your side to see your mother, only to spot her still with her back to you but a large distance away. You break out in to a quick jog and manage to end up just behind her, giving an unconvincing smile by the time she turns to look at you. You sit the most still as you have ever been as one of your mother's friends applies a soft sheen of lipstick to your lips, finishing off the intricate makeup look now on your face. Your mother stands a few feet away, face contorted to show fear for today's upcoming events. You turn away, not selling her fear to manifest into more fear of your own and instead glance at the focused look of your makeup artist, adding the final few touches to the look. She holds a mirror up to your eyeline yet you grimace at how professional you look. Out of sheer habit, you grab a small strand of hair from the front of your face, pull it out of the updo and twirl it slightly. There, you feel much more comfortable now that you don't look too perfect.

You focus in the path ahead of you and fail to notice your mother running towards you, carrying a parasol.

Your mother unwraps a gorgeous hairclip, gently sliding it into your hair. You bow your head to make it easier for her. She softly whispers and pats your cheek slightly. "There. Now you're all ready." You smile at her, trying to fight of the nerves as you do so. As you walk away from your mother (who wipes a tear subtly as you leave) and your grandma (who also feels the need to try and hand a cricket to you which you decline). You let out a soft prayer as you walk, you hope today will go well and you bring the honour and respect that your family so desperately needs and deserves.

You knew you forgot something! What a great start to the day!

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You scramble to the line up and so all thoughts of grace, decorum and proper pracise leave your mind. So when the Matchmaker calls your name and you respond with a loud "Present!" You fail to realise that the matchmakers response would be a grumpy mumble of "Speaking without permission." as she turns her back. Your face nearly drops into your hands from embarrassment. Once you finally get inside, the Matchmaker instantly makes you spin and she mumbles to herself. Something about how you are not quite the right shape.

You watch with bated breath, trying to make out the matchmaker's mumbles. So you easily notice the small cricket that jumps onto another shoulder. Gosh you knew you shouldn't have let your grandma give it to you. It's just as much trouble as she is. You quickly try and grab the cricket so it doesn't start to create more conflict; your reputation is already on a line that's getting thinner and more delicate as time progresses. The Matchmaker sharply turns to you, leaving you with nothing left to do (you must admit that this is one of the lowest points of your life so far) but to swallow the cricket. "Recite the final admonition." You hum in acknowledgement and try to hide the crirping cricket in your mouth. "Well." It's now or never, you spin the cricket out and break out into the soliloquy.

You try and Recite the words to the best of your memory but feel it falter at the final sentence. You glance down at your left arm, speak what it says and the quickly correct yourself due to the smudged writing's misleading appearance. The Matchmaker grabs your left arm, leading you further into the room. She bends down and grabs a kettle from  where it was boiling. "Now, pour the tea." She gestures in an inviting way even when her tone is far from it. Your gaze however is only focused on the ink covered hand of hers. Your eyes widen in horror "To please your future in laws, you must demonstrate dignity and respect." She scratches her face and spreads ink all around her mouth. Still in your mindless, shock induced, trance you miss the teacup entirely and end up pouring a decent amount of tea onto the table. You shake your head and quickly correct yourself and focus on pouring the tea into the cup, not willing to have another mark against your name.

Suddenly, something emerges from the tea and your grandmother's cricket floats to the top, clearly enjoying itself in the warm beverage. You softly whisper as the woman takes the mug "Pardon me..." She shoots you a glare. "And silent!" She lets her face hover over the mug, soaking in the hot fumes. "Could I just-" You lean over the table in an attempt to grab the mug. The Matchmaker gives you an odd look and the two of you commence in a brief tug of war like situation before the tea ends up going flying, all over her front.

Unsurprisingly, she wails in pain but most of your attention is focused on the cricket who jumps down the front of the Matchmaker's dress. You gasp in horror. The older woman reels back in shock and ends up knocking over the container of hot coals used to heat the kettle. The cricket continues to scurry around under her clothes, tickling the Matchmaker which leads her to fall backwards into the steaming coals with a pained wail. You try and grab a nearby flat scroll to try and act as a fan but it only ends up making the glowing patch on her behind flare up into large flames. The Matchmaker continues to scream and run around the room like a headless chicken as you only stand there helpless.

Outside, your grandmother turns to your mother with a smile. "I think it's going well. Don't you?" Without warning, the Matchmaker bursts through the doors to outside and begins to shout to anyone and everyone to "Put it out!!!" In a last ditch attempt to save the Matchmaker, you pour the now (slightly colder) tea all over her. Well it puts on the fire but it also smudges her makeup and makes everyone freeze and look at just how disheveled she is. You wordlessly pass the teapot back to her, bow and scurry away, refusing to make eye contact with her.

The Matchmaker shakes her head and realises that you can't get away that easily. Just as you reach your mother, she stalks after you to shout in your face. "You are an utter disgrace. You may look like a bride but you will never. Ever. Bring your family honour." You just hand your head in shame and slowly make your way back to the house. Your grandmother and mother comfort you and lead you home before the mumbling of townspeople around you can develop.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Over the years, you have found that one of the most theraputic things to do when times get tough, is visit your horse. Sassy walks behind you, quieter than usual, clearly sensing your sombre mood. You walk through the courtyard and spot your father in your peripheral vision. He smiles at you and you duck your head, refusing to meet his eyes and speed up your pace just a small bit; yet you fail to notice your father's concerned and upset face at your dismissal of him.

Sassy already knows where to go when you enter the other stable, she happily starts to lap water up from the pale and you are left, staring at your own reflection. You almost cringe at your painted face. You look like a delicate doll, waiting to be a bride but you feel like anything but that. You draw your attention away from your reflection and begin to remove your jewellery. You stare outside at your father and when your mother and grandmother walk up to him, clearly informing him of earlier events, you feel the oit in your stomach turn into an endless chasmic abyss.

You turn away as your parents have a moment, both lowering their head in sorrow. You walk outside of the stable, feeling constricted in the dark walls. You walk over the dainty bridge in your garden, and head to the prayer gazebo. Your hand gently skims over the water. Unsurprisingly, your sleeve is left damp but all you fucus on is the tranquility of the pond despite it being disturbed.  You look at the polished stones and once again are forced to come to terms with your current looks. Maybe if you pray you will feel some relief. I mean it always works for your father? You bend down yet even then, you are placed face to face with your own face staring back at you in the shiny tiles.

You grab your now wet sleeve and rub it over your face, trying to scrub away your makeup and the expectations placed upon you. You do it a few more times and end up getting majority of the art off of your features. You pull yourself back up, not in the right state of mind to pray but you catch sight of your hair. You remove the hair clip (that is miraculously keeping your updo together) out and let your hair fall down.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Despite not clearing your thoughts, a small walk leads you to be sat at the foot of the large cherry blossom tree in the corner of your garden. You fiddle with the intricate hairclip, clasped in your hands. Your father clears his throat and gives you a small smile. For the second time today, you turn away and refuse to meet his eyes out of sheer embarrassment. He sits down on the bench next to you and lets a pregnant pause sit for a short while.

"Wow. How gorgeous the blossoms are this year." You don't respond. "But look. This one is late." Curiosity piqued, you turn your head slightly and follow the direction if your father's finger. At the end of it's 'path' is a small, unblossomed cherry flower. "And I bet, when it blooms, it will be the most beautiful of them all." As he said the last part of the sentence, he takes the clip from your hands and slides it into your hair once again. You finally meet your father's eyes and the two of you share a silent, meaningful moment filled with smiles and love.

Suddenly, the distant banging of drums cuts across your tranquil moment and your father straightens up. He pushes himself up using a crutch and you are left extremely worried. "What? What's wrong?" Your father gives you no response and walks to the front gates. Your mother, who is already there spots you and gently shoos you back. "Y/N. Stay inside." Your grandmother coughs behind you and gestures offhandedly with her thumb. You jog towards where it is pointing and you start to scale the wall that you had used so many times to stargaze in your youth.

You sit on a faux ledge part of the top of the wall (created by the meeting of the top wall tiles and a stable wall) and listen in. A clearly important looking man on a horse, surrounded by other, tougher looking men on horses stand in the middle ground of land between the and your neighbour's houses. "Citizens, I bring a proclamation from the imperial city. The huns have invaded our country." His words instantly cause people to gasp and even young mothers to scoop up their small children out of fear. The man continues. "One man from every family must serve in the army. For the good and honour of our country." He begins to read of the names of neighbouring families, in alphabetical order. One man steps forward and volunteers volunteers fight in place of his clearly old and frail father which makes you feel a pang of sadness. When he reads out "The Y/L/N" family you mutter a small "No..." You watch as your father hands his walking stick into the shocked arms of your mother and begins to hobble to the man on the horse.

You jump down and run towards your father, shouting "You cant go!" Your father turns at your intrusion. And groans your name as you run up to him. You look up into the yes of the advisor. "Please sir, my father has already fought bravely in the past. He is far too-" He cuts across you with a loud boom. "Silence." He turns towards your father. "It would do you some good to teach your daughter some manners and to hold her tongue in a man's presence." Your father continues to hold eye contact with the royal advisor but adresses you. "Y/N, you dishonour me." You look away. Oh not again. The second time today? You must be on a streak of dishonour. You father takes the instruction envelope and hobbles back to your front gates as you are left feeling hopeless.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Later in the evening, you sneak around to peer into your father's spare room after hearing a small commotion come from here not long ago. Inside, is your father opening a cabinet that you have never in your life seen open. His army crate. You were told as a child to avoid it at all cots due to the danger of it and its contents and now you can see why. Your father pulls a giant blade (probably a sword) out and you also catch a glance of his old army uniform. Your father holds the sword up to the light and begins to swing it, clearly in an attempt to practise his swordsmanship by swiping the air. And you must admit that it's an impressive show.

Until he feels a sharp pain shoot up his arm, causing him to drop the sword. You nearly nearly to his aid but then remember that you are strictly spying on him and would be in so much trouble if you were caught (and goodness knows you don't need that today). He staggers towards a wall and pulls himself up making you shuffle away from the doorway slightly, feeling as panicked as he looks.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Despite how action-packed the day had been, everyone at dinner was surprisingly silent, making for a tense atmosphere. You must have been left alone with your thoughts slightly too long though because when your parents discuss your father's enlistment in hushed whispers, you slam your bowl on the table. "You shouldn't have to go. It's not fair." Your voice breaks at the end of the sentence and you stare at your father in desperation and sorrow. You ignore your mother's quiet cry of your name. "There are plenty of young men. Healthy men that are fit and willing to fight for our country."

Your dad just shakes his head. "It is an honour to fight for this country and to protect my family." The emphasis for his fourth word nearly makes you stop and think. But the key word is 'nearly'. You shake your head. "So you're willing to die just for honour." Now your father finally stands. "I will die for what is right." "But if-" "I know my place. Clearly you need to learn yours." You stare at your father, bottom lip quivering, and flee.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You sit in the garden, letting the rain and darkness envelope you. You watch the sihlouettes of your parents fade as they turn off the lights, clearly deeming it the right time to sleep and then suddenly a plan begins to devise itself in your head. You begin a determined walk to the gazebo and begin to pray. Then you rush out of the gazebo, determined to not waste anymore time. You walk into the spare bedroom and take a deep breath on an attempt to rush your stressed, quick beating heart.

You raise both hands and open the double doors to your father's army supplies. You raise the sword and unsheath it slightly. Wow it's much heavier than you anticipated. You stare at your reflection and the depth of your actions finally sinks in. Your father's words earlier ring in your brain. You too will "die for what is right." As long as it means keeping your father out of danger. You raise the sword and grab a handfull of your hair... Well today must be a day of transformations. You take a giant chop to your hair and you and do an even looking one on the other side (because even with your plan, you still wanted to retain some dignity). You manage to style your hair in a way the is closest to other men's that you have seen in town and move on to the next stage of your plan.

You pull down your father's old uniform and mutter a quiet thanks in your head that it was from when your father was younger and much closer to your size. You put it on, doing up every fastening, tightening every part you could and you look at yourself in the reflection of the sword. You sneak out of the house into the stables, startling your favourite companion. Sassy goes to buck at you due to your unfamiliar appearance but you gently shush her and the ever clever girl, quickly clocks on to the predicament. You ready her up by equipping your saddle and saddle bags (but not before grabbing some extra horse food for the journey).

You take one more glance behind you as you walk out of the courtyard. Yet despite the abysmal weather, your path has never looked so clear. You get up onto Sassy and ride to the camp, letter clutched in hand. You hope this works.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Across the garden, one of your families prayer stones lights up and at the same moment, your grandmother wakes up. She bolts upright and gasps. "Y/N is gone!" She stalks through the house whilst feeling around for a candle to light. Your parents wake with shocked, disbelieving mumbles. "What?" Your father turns to his side but his attention is caught by something. On his bedside table is something that wasn't there when he went to sleep. Your hairclip.

He shakes his head and grabs his walking stick. "It can't be." Even in his half asleep state, he manages to reach the spare room extremely quickly. He opens his old crate and is left speechless.

Your family runs out into the night. "Y/N?" Your father somehow looks likely as he runs towards the gate until he slips in q puddle. He lands face first in the puddle but your mother quickly pulls him up. "You must go after her. Otherwise she will be killed!" Your mother stands up but your father grips her hand. "If I reveal her, she is as good as dead." Your parents stare off unto the distance, silent prayers playing like broken records in their mind. Leaving them to not notice where your grandmother walks off to. She seeks shelter in the gazebo and looks up to the sky, helpless mumbles tumbling pass her lips. "Ancestors, hear my prayer and help to protect Y/N. Please"

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Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

[2dyumi]

⋆˚࿔ POWER TRIP

cw// no major warnings || wc; 1.3k

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You feel paranoid. 90% of it is definitely from the joint you huffed down just fifteen minutes before making the walk, but the other 10% is a mix of feeling like a creep for stalking around the park in the middle of the night, and meeting up with some random guy you’ve never heard of before. The Haitani’s are secretive when it comes to certain friends, especially if said friend is their dealer. It took months for them to trust you enough to get their numbers, and another three until they decided to smoke in front of you for the first time; which is still funny to think about because you were getting high in advance with some other friends prior to heading over to see the brothers. Rindou was the one who broke that barrier, busting through their apartment one day when you were lounging while waiting for Ran to finish showering. The younger Haitani was wasted and singing about his recent purchase, ending the off-key tune with a dramatic gasp at the sight of you taking up their couch. Since then, you’d sneak out and risk the twenty minute jog to their place, skipping steps on your way up the three flights of emergency stairs since the elevator always seemed to be out of order, and down the hall to their unit. 

First, they’d make you pay them back for your share by having you run to the convenience store for snacks, but with your dedication to it, Ran was the one who said you could buy whatever extras they had. It’s both a punishment and reward; starving your wallet but at least you’ve got something to keep you sane when you spend your days and nights alone. 

Pacing, you walk in circles around the swingset, flinching at every leaf rustling from the calm breeze and cricket chirping. It hasn’t been the full five minutes, but you’re ready to say ‘fuck it’ and dip. It’s cold, dark, and the perfect scenario for the beginning of a horror movie where you’ll die first. Taking a seat on one of the swings when your legs start to feel like jello, your elbows land on your knees and you slouch to place your head in your palms, rocking from heel to toe just for some movement. Your chest pounds painfully with anxiety while your thoughts seem to work in slow motion, canceling out all of your other senses from properly functioning. It gets to a point where you’re forcing yourself to zone out on a random spot on your shoes to calm down, finding a way to re-enter that peaceful state of mind. In a few deep breaths your heartbeat calms down and your breathing regulates, a ringing in your ears that you weren’t aware of until it slowly quiets down makes you pick up on the soft padding of footsteps. 

Your head doesn’t leave your hands fast enough, though, just a flinch running up your spine when the chains of the swing next to you rattle and creak from a weight that isn't the wind. There’s another set of feet next to yours now, wearing a similar pair of converse but they’re a light blue instead of the original black and white. Your gaze works its way up from his feet to his hands in his lap, staring at his fingers for longer than you anticipated, then up to his face. He has a scowl, looking like he’s plotting a murder in his mind and you pray it’s not yours. 

“Are you going to keep staring or can we get this over with?” he suddenly asks, watching your hands fly off the chains to cover your face. It’s funny how you think you’re hiding, but he can still feel your gaze on him. “If you want, I'll just leave it right here.” 

Following his movements when he stands, he bends down to place a cute little gift bag next to your feet, standing in front of you with his hand held out. 

Oh, duh! 

“Wait, you’re Souya?!” you ask, looking up at him. You’re able to get a better view of his features now, seeing the mess of blue curls on his head and matching cornflower eyes that squint at the question. It’s obvious, who else would he be? He takes a step back when you rise from the swing, turning on the flashlight from his phone when you hold out some cash after digging around in your pocket. 

“Hold this for me, please,” he passes his phone into your hands, maneuvering your grip on it so it points down at the cash in his hand as he counts it. It’s your fault for only having smaller bills, and a wave of embarrassment washes over you for making him have to go through extra work. Pocketing the money, he grabs the gift bag once again and opens it up, holding it under the light so you can see the contents inside. 

“You didn’t specify what strains and I know you asked for an eighth, but my big bro had some extra so I gave you some leftover indica buds we had, and the rest are sativa,” he says while pointing at different bags, but his words make no sense. “I think one is ‘wedding cake’… I'm not sure.” 

While eyeing the cannabis, you realize how much there actually is, and dramatically gasp. He meets your widened stare and furrows his already pinched brows, wondering if he said something wrong. 

“Wait, wait,” you shake your head, spitting out a shy laugh. “This is way too much, and even I’m not greedy enough to accept all of this.” 

Souya smiles. It’s very subtle, but you can see his lips twitch when they curl. “It’s fine, really. Think of it as… a first-time ‘customer’ bundle,” he reassures, but it’s not enough to ease your increasing heart rate. 

“No, hold on,” you shove his phone back into his hands, unaware of how sloppy and heavy the action was, ignoring the soft grunt he tried to suppress.

You’re glad you brought some extra cash along, and even though it was meant to buy some snacks on the way back home, you don’t hesitate to unzip your jacket and dig around in your bra. He turns his head away once your finger’s enter your shirt, accidentally catching sight of your cleavage before he tore his sights away, and his cheeks heat up with shame for seeing an area so personal. You fight around your breast to pull the rolled up cash out, yelping when it scratches against your nipple; already sensitive from the cool midnight air. Counting it with a mutter, Souya brings his attention back to you when you hold the extra five-dollars out. 

“It’s not much extra, but I promise I’ll pay you some more another day!” You chew the insides of your cheeks, smiling when he slowly takes it from your cold fingers. “And thank you, for texting back and meeting up so late. Oh! Plus the extra stuff, you’re too kind,” your words are sweet, making Souya return your smile with a chuckle and nod. 

“Yeah, of course. I live right down there—” he uses the light from his phone to point it at the street opposite of where your building is, turning the flash off after facing away. “—so it wasn’t too much of a hassle,” he shrugs. 

“Woah, what,” you spin around quickly, throwing an arm up to point towards an apartment complex. “I live over there! See the pink lights? That’s my room!” It’s wrong to give away your place, you know that–but at the moment it doesn’t feel so criminal, not when you’re making a new friend. Well… you hope he’s a friend. “Anyway, I should head back now. I left the door propped open a bit and my neighbors are… not the best so, thanks again!”

Souya gives a small smile, one you can’t make out right away and it’s gone in a few seconds when he nods. His hand comes up to wave, and he’s turning on his heels to walk in the opposite direction when you return the gesture before rushing off. 

--tags; @anahoyingkawata

[countrymusiclover]

45 - The Rightful Queen

Part 46

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Cersei snapped at me spinning around on her feet and nearly collapsing to the stone floor by who she was before her. “What are you looking at - J -Jaime.” Biting my lip I prayed that she would believe the little white lie that we were doing right underneath her nose.

I kept my gaze on the twins who moved to the center of the room embracing one another in a tight hug. Cersei buried her face against the fabric of his tunic shirt. He wrapped his arms around her body, burying his nose into her short blonde hair before he tilted her face up to look into his watery eyes. “Cersei.”

“You’re hurt.” She muttered through some tears when he winced after she had pushed her heads against his chest.

Jaime shakes his head, lifting her chin back up so she’d focus solely on him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re bleeding.” She sniffed crying more tears, removing her hands off his chest seeing her hands covered in blood from the wound he appeared to have gotten injured at.

My husband brushed her hair out of her eyes. “That’s not important. We need to get out of here before they come for you. You can’t keep the throne anymore.”

“Give up the throne, do you hear yourself?” Cersei drew her head back and he dropped his hands from the side of her face.

Jaime didn’t give her a verbal response instead he grabbed her face in his hands a second time and he smashed his lips down upon hers. I lowered my gaze to the stone floor hating how it looked to watch them kiss since they were brother and sister. “If you wish to live and not be killed it’s the only way.” He broke the kiss resting his forehead down upon hers.

The golden lioness shoved her hands against his chest angrily. “I will not give up my power. I have worked too hard all of my life to have this. I refuse to let anyone take it from me!” Cersei stomped her feet on the stone floor getting more frustrated.

I lowered my right hand downward to the sword on my hip, wrapping my fingers around the blade handle. “Cersei, you have one chance here to bend the knee and give up your crown. Once you do that you’ll get to live-“

“Go to hell you cunt!” She whipped her head back around in my direction, baring her teeth.

I glared at her, stomping up to her where we were nearly chest to chest with one another. “I’m glad you never were betrothed to my brother Rhaegar. He was the greatest person I have ever known. He gave genuine care about the smallfolk unlike you did. You are just like my father was when he burned everyone with Wildfire.”

“You have no right to speak to me in that tone. I am the Queen! - argh! What - what do you think you’re doing?” I quickly spun the blonde around where her back was against my front. I snatched the dagger out from inside one of my combat boots and pushed it lightly against her throat trying to be as confident as she was when she did the exact same thing to me years ago.

Cersei struggled to fight against my hold, thrashing whatever way she could but I pressed the dagger a little harder against her throat drawing blood. “It doesn’t feel too good does it. To be in the same position you had me in all those years ago. Now listen to me, I don’t wish to hurt you and I won’t do anything so long as you bend the knee and address the last Targaryens as rulers.”

“Vaella, let her go.” Jaime raised his voice at me.

I clutched the handle of the dagger I was holding to her throat. “She attempted to kill our daughter, Jaime. She’ll keep coming after our family - what else are we supposed to do?”

“Come here.” Jaime crossed the room yanking the blonde from my grasp with one arm holding her against his chest. His other hand reached down and I watched him grab a hold of a very thin sword attached to his hip. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. You need to listen to me.”

Cersei spat in her brother's face. “What could you possibly have to say to me? You’ve always been the stupidest Lannister.”

“The North Remembers.” Jaime simply declared down to his sister.

Cersei knitted her brows together in such confusion. “Wha-what?”

“My name is Arya Stark. I want you to remember that before you die.” Jaime raised his hand with the tiny sword in his fingers stabbing her in the middle of the stomach and lowered her body to the stone floor. He raised his other hand removing a face mask and showing Cersei that it was in fact the youngest Stark daughter who everyone else believed was dead after she had killed her father.

Cersei began gasping for breath while I crossed the room lowering myself down on one knee to be level with her in her very last moments. Brushing her short hair from her face I slide my dagger back inside my combat boot. “I tried to offer you another way, Cersei and you didn’t take me up on it. You are no longer the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Vaella! Vaella!” Lifting my head up sharply I recognized the familiar voice booming throughout the halls of the Red Keep.

Arya turned her head in my direction, we could now both hear the loud sound of bells from the tower ringing through the streets meaning Jaime and Tyrion must have agreed on a side plan like we had. “Are you going to find him?”

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” I nodded, raising myself up from the ground and bolted out of the room and around multiple corners throughout the huge castle. My hair was flowing behind my back while my boots scattered across the stone, up and down every set of stairs I could call out his name like a wind and a prayer. “Jaime! Jaime, Jaime, Jaime!”

Halting in my tracks my boots screeched against the cold stone when I noticed that I was standing now in the center of the throne room. The Iron Throne was directly in front of me and I almost didn’t notice my feet moving forward to the throne steps. Closing my eyes I recalled a very faint memory of my mother when I was a young child the closer I got to the throne of swords.

Making my way up the stone steps I brushed the fingertips of my right hand on the armrests of the sharp chair. I pictured my mother in this moment, the moment I realized that I didn’t want what life was forced upon her.

“Momma, have you ever sat in that chair?” The innocent girl in me at the age of 8 years old asked my mother while we were walking up to the large sword chair.

Rhaella, my mother smiled down at me keeping my smaller hand in hers. “Unfortunately I haven't, dear.”

“Why?” I asked a simple question.

Mom bent down on a knee to be eye level with me, showing such a gentle look on her face. “Well because I am not the one in charge. I may wear a crown and be called a Queen but it doesn’t make me the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Why doesn't it. Daddy wears the crown and the people say he's in charge.”

Mom brushes hair out of my face. “That’s the way of the world. Men are the ones in charge. But you, my girl , will be different than most.”

“What do you mean, momma?” I tilted my head to the side not understanding what she meant by that.

Rhaella placed both her hands on the side of my face kissing my forehead before she delivered words I would remember for the rest of my life. “You Vaella will be the best Queen there ever was because you are my daughter. You are the best version of your father and I. It will make you the greatest Queen the Seven Kingdoms have ever known.”

“I’ll do my best, momma.” I smiled down at her, throwing my arms around her neck and she hugged me back.

Turning around on my feet I sucked in a very sharp breath lowering my body down onto the cold chair of old swords. Tapping my fingers on the armrests I winced slightly recalling how many times my father had nicked his hands on the blades and drew blood almost every day. “I’ve lost count on how many times he cut himself on the throne.” Shifting my gaze upward my violet eyes landed on a set of green eyes I knew better than anyone else.

“Jaime - I was beginning to think that I’d lost you.” I released a sharp gasp bolting up from the seat and down the steps as fast as my feet could carry me.

My husband quickly made his way into the center of the room catching my body after I nearly tackled him to the hard floor underneath our feet. Wrapping my arms and legs tightly around his body he buried his nose into my messy hair. “I was terrified that something had happened. Ohh, I’m just relieved you’re okay Vaella.”

“Jaime, um - there’s something you should know.” I broke away from our embrace, running my hands up and down his forearms.

He raised a brow at me. “What happened, Vae?”

“Cersei’s dead and she had one of the Ironborn shoot down Luciya.” I nervously gulped feeling tears welling in my eyes.

Jaime’s protective mode came to the surface where he grasped my hand in his left. “Let’s go find her now.” Together we ran toward the doors moving outside as quickly as we humanly could manage.

[silver-dragonborn]

I saw some hotd spoilers on TikTok and while I would normally feel ashamed for watching them, this show is such a fucking dumpster fire that I simply do not care anymore. With that being said, here are my thoughts. Out of respect, I will not post commentary in my tags.

-) Aemond telling Helaena to saddle up only for her to tell him to kindly fucking fuck off and coldly predict his future where he will die alone.

"B-but Helaena loves her brother!"

Correction. Loved. She loved Aemond until he killed Lucerys which set off a chain of events that got her own son killed in retaliation. I'm sorry, but if my asshole brother told me to fight for him after his decisions led to the gruesome death of one of my babies, I would spit in his face for the audacity.

"Will you burn me as you did Aegon?"

"That is a lie."

"I saw it."

Helaena was done playing around. No riddles. No musings. She was grieving and angry and lashing out at the jackass responsible. Helaena refuses to fight a losing battle and plus, she no longer trusts Aemond so why the fuck would she ride beside an emotional time bomb with a geriatric dragon that refuses to listen to him?

-) "It's all a story and you're but one part in it. You know your part." Gave me chills. Phia was SERVING in this episode and knowing what I know about Helaena and her ending, I'm praying we'll see more of her. Daemon's final vision in Harrenhal bore some fruit as I got to see a haunting glimpse of Daenerys and her dragons...Night King looked like a leathery Halloween costume from a general store...not my cup of tea.

-) Aemond throwing a hissyfit and putting his disgusting hands on Helaena to force her to burn Harrenhal with him was nothing new to me. You've seen how he treats members of his family...Helaena and Alicent are no different. Also, imagine being raised for YEARS to hate your sister and being trained to fight her only for your mom, the one responsible for your upbringing, deciding to throw in the towel and sue for peace. Yeah, I don't blame Aemond for feeling betrayed by Alicent who RAISED HIM TO HATE HIS SISTER.

-) That scene with Alicent and Rhaenyra...I'm sorry, but that was total bullshit and out of character. The fact that Rhaenyra was written out to be the disgruntled spouse listening to her wife's apologies was ridiculous. Rhaenicents will count this as a win, but to me, it's poorly written-fanfiction. Even when Alicent was "apologizing" and "baring her soul" to Rhaenyra she still justified her bullshit (go figure). Now, NOW, after humiliating Rhaenyra at her wedding, allowing a murderer to walk free, plotting against her, and TORTURING HER FOR YEARS, SHE WANTS TO RUN AWAY FROM IT ALL?? Lady, you sealed your family's fate the moment you wore that green dress. Alicent wants to flee from the problems that SHE created and I was fucking GOBSMACKED that she practically betrays her "favorite son" in favor of opening up the city to Rhaenyra without bloodshed. Kudos to Rhaenyra for sticking to her guns to cut off Aegon's head. I know anti-Rhaenyra stans will screech that this is proof she was always going to kill him and refuse to believe that Rhaenyra, having lost a son and a daughter, wants vengeance for her dead children...honestly, what do y'all expect??

-) I half-expected Aemond to fly over to Dragonstone, bend the knee to his sister, and hug it out. Y'know...like in every fix-it fanfic ever where Rhaenyra forgives those usurping murderous cunts and strives to be a better sister because it's all her fault that her siblings are SAD and not pure, sweet Alicent's fault for turning them against her in the first place.

-) We finally see Sheepstealer, but no scene of Rhaena claiming him and flying in the skies. Seriously, what the fuck? We get a pointless scene of Alicent treating with Rhaenyra on Dragonstone, but nothing for Rhaena? I swear, the writers add in these pointless scenes to avoid anything to do with the twins. No, we just see her staring bug-eyed at Sheepstealer while Hugh gets extra screen time with Vermithor.

-) I'd say the only scenes that stood out to me were Daemon bending the knee to Rhaenyra, Helaena's predictions, and Team Black gearing up for war.

-) Anyway, this episode was insane and not in a good way. The Rhaenicent agenda and the constant need to portray Alicent as this misunderstood angel who just wants her best friend back are dragging this show through the mud.

[ethelcain-songs]

Starvation Ethel Cain

Six weeks since we last ate Six weeks we’ve been taught Six weeks the phone’s been ringing And now the sheriff’s at the door

At two weeks my insides screamed I was coughing up blood by three By four my father couldn’t take it And hung himself in the yard from the oak tree

My mother said be patient It’s what God said to her Get down on your knees and pray with me You won’t get blessings you don’t deserve

See how far See how long A little will go Jesus Christ, he loves me This I know

The bedsheets stained with my sister’s waste My brother’s eyes crusted shut The dogs stopped crying weeks ago With my hands digging deep inside their guts

I ache all over I can’t get clean My bones start to bend inside of me But God forbid I question what he asks me to do I just hope he gets here soon

See how far See how long A little will go Jesus Christ, he loves me This I know

I hold my mother, she won’t hold me back They cut down my father and his broken neck They found the baby in a dirty cloth upstairs While my brother and my sister just rot One takes me in his arms and then he runs outside But they are too late now, I’m already in the light I’m the only one Jesus comes to take As he takes my hand and I waste away

[theworldisquietheretooquiet]

Snow for Fingon lmao predictable but a classic

For the prompts

Thank you! :) I hope you were hinting you wanted angst because if not... sorry.

I went with Fingon getting trapped in an avalanche on the Helcaraxë. 742 words

Cw: claustrophobic situation, very brief allusions to suicidal ideation, mentions of violence

Findekáno is trapped beneath the snow.

It surrounds him on every side, and he cannot move. He is barely able to breathe with the tons of ice pressing down. The terrible weight of it is slowly crushing the life out of him; each breath takes more effort than the last.

When he had finally laid still, after tumbling over and over in the freezing darkness, he had screamed. And screamed. But he is silent now.

He doubts his voice could penetrate the packed snow he’s buried in and even then, it would have to compete with the howling wind. Screaming also wasted too much air and he knows he has very little left.

Not that it matters because the host is far behind him. He had gone ahead, as he did more and more often now, scouting the way. It made his father grimace, but Findekáno still went. They had lost too many to hidden holes in the ice to journey blind.

He refuses to think that no one will find him because they won’t be looking. Yes, his father and Ingoldo had made the decision to stop searching the snowslides for survivors. He’d agreed: one or two half-dead elves were not worth sacrificing dozens more who would go blue and silent and still waiting. But they will search for him. They must. He is Ñolofinwë’s eldest son, he has many loyal captains who will not easily give him up. They will come. He just has to stay awake until they do.

It is hard though. He is freezing, the ice is packed so close to him he thinks it is slowly sinking into his veins. His feet are numb, and he would not be sure he still had hands if he could not feel them, fixed in place by the immovable snow, to his sides.

Come on Findekáno. You will not die here, in this unknown, unmarked grave.

He must stay awake. He drags his scattered thoughts together and begins to play the game he and Arakáno devised for the long silent watches.

It is a reverse of the meaningless counting you do to encourage sleep; instead, it requires your mind to focus. Findekáno swallows and begins.

One thing he can see is snow. Two times the mist has descended on their camp since he last slept. Three sleds need their runners replacing. Four children are still part of his host. Five bodies are in their store. Six ice axes have broken.

There are black spots creeping into his vision. He is so cold.

Seven words Itarillë has uttered since Elenwë fell. Eight times Russandol smiled at him when they last spoke. Nine spare furs left. Ten times he has led Turukáno away from the edge of a cliff. Eleven under his command are currently injured. Twelve stairs up to his room in Tirion.

Is he fading in and out? He thinks his heartbeat is slowing.

Thirteen Teleri he stabbed in the back. Fourteen Teleri whose throats he pierced.  Fifteen braids his mother used to weave into his hair. Sixteen Teleri he ran through the chest. Seventeen times he has prayed for forgiveness. Eighteen oil skins he needs to give to Írissë. Nineteen washes it took to get the blood out from under his nails. Twenty…

Findekáno gasps for air as he comes to. It is chilled and sharp, and stings his throat, but he doesn’t care it feels so good. Everything hurts and his chest most of all. Turukáno is sitting on his knees beside him, breathing heavily with tears streaming down his face. When Findekáno meets his eyes, he turns away abruptly and stands up.

“Never do that again.”

Findekáno breathes in, then winces. “Turko, I think you broke my ribs.” His brother stares at him unblinking for a long moment, then walks away.

He groans and lies back against the snow, as his father takes Turukáno’s place and bends over him.

“My son, oh Findekáno. I cannot express how relieved I am to find you. We had begun to fear… It matters not, you are found, and you are fine. Well, you will be.”

Ñolofinwë carefully enfolds his son in an embrace and Findekáno holds on as tight as he can although he begins to shake violently. After a moment he is gently lifted onto a sled, and he reaches out and grasps his father’s hand.

“You looked for me.” He says.

Ñolofinwë smiles. “Of course we did.”

[jupiterwrites99]

You're On Your Own, Kid -- Seven

“This is on you!” Paul said, shoving Jacob hard. He just had to go and antagonise Sage. There's human Sage, and then there's wolf Sage. As a wolf, she was unpredictable. They couldn’t communicate with her and there was no telling what she was thinking. As a human, you could at least compromise with her. 

This better not make her shut down again, he thought to himself as he tied his shorts to his ankle before phasing. His only goal was to find her. 

They were in a good spot right now, all things considered. She trusted him. Openly sharing tidbits about herself without coaxing it out of her.. She was flighty as hell still but getting better each day. Most importantly she felt safe with him.

Sam had pulled Paul aside to tell him he was being too touchy with her. He was being too touchy!? He wanted to laugh right in his alphas face. The little minx couldn’t keep her hands to herself, any chance she got and she was running the pads of her fingers over his skin. Her newest fixation being his collarbones, one slow swipe of her finger and he was hard as a rock. He couldn’t fucking help it that his ancestors gave him a fox dressed as an angel for an imprint. All he wanted to do was bend her over and listen to a harmony of moans leave her lips.

Fuck, her lips. All pouty, all the goddamn time.

But he can’t, instead he’s back searching the woods for Sage before she gets too far, or worse, hurt. Catching her the first time was a challenge, she had a broken leg and they still couldn't keep up with her. Paul was praying she wasn’t too pissed off at him to make them chase her.

His wolf was not happy, one smart remark from one of his brothers and Paul wouldn’t be able to control him.

Think like her, his wolf growled.

Water.

She’d find water first.

Sage had told him she never strayed too far from water, she would go days without eating but she at least had water to keep her hydrated. He only knew of one watering hole in their territory and figured that was his best bet.

Racing off in that direction while barking off orders to his pack mates to check some of the other areas she frequented all while his frantic eyes searched for the white fur of his imprint.

“I’ll grab her some clothes,” Leah remarked, seeing his sight. Paul muttered a thanks before phasing back and pulling on his shorts.

Walking over to the white wolf, he tried to keep his cool as he told her, “You can’t just take off like that.”

She whined, rolling onto her back, nearly falling into the water. Paul didn’t even know what had set her off, Emily had said she had gone out with Leah on a hike but Leah had seemed shocked to find out she had phased too.

The older wolf knelt beside her, smoothing his hand across her belly as if he were petting a dog, “We can't communicate with you as a wolf.”

She rubbed her snout against him, letting out a small howl. He had no idea what she was thinking. Sage relaxed into his touch, a sound of content leaving her before she unexpectedly shifted back. On her hands and knees, she flicked her head up to look at him, confusion written all over her face. She scrambled to her feet, backing away from Paul.

“Hi,” She said sheepishly, covering herself as best she could.

Oh, fuck me, Paul thought, not letting his eyes travel past her breasts before averting his eyes.

“Fuck, um, Leah should be here with some clothes soon.” Paul averted his eyes, looking up at the trees.

“Sorry,” She squeaked, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He turned his back to her, not trusting himself to take another peek at her. He could already feel the blood rushing to his lower extremities at what he did see. 

“No! I’m not..I’m not uncomfortable, you look great..I mean..I’m used to seeing..everything.” The older man stumbled over his words.

“You’re used to seeing girls naked?” She prodded. Paul wanted to laugh at her question. Of course he was.

But he couldn’t say that, not to her, thinking about what to say, Paul mumbled, “Yeah, the ones I like at least..”

“And you don’t like me?” He could hear the frown in her tone.

He whipped around, clearly focused on keeping his eyes above her neck, “I never said that.”

Her hands on her hips, this part of her personality he only sees glimpses of, but he knew it was there.

 Little Miss Attitude.

“But you don’t want to see me naked.I’ll just..” She looked around her for something to cover herself with. Not that she would find anything in the middle of the woods.

Play this right, his wolf practically begged.

“I never said that, either.” Paul said carefully, gauging her reaction.

“So you do want to see me naked,” She said teasingly, a playful smirk on her lips.

“Are you fucking with me?” He asked, taking a step towards her. His eyes narrowed but the slight boyish smirk on his lips, he was enjoying it just as much as she was. Paul couldn't help but wonder what she was like with her old pack, its hard to tell whether or not it was a strict dynamic or relaxed like Sam typically is.

“I asked Leah what a minx is.” She shrugged, “You started it.”

Paul barked out a laugh. Fuck it. He let his eyes drag down her body, no imperfections at all. She’s fucking beautiful.

She’s ours, his wolf purred.

Taking another step towards her, he teased, “I just call ‘em, how I see ‘em, babe.”

“Minx, and now babe?” A look of shock crossed her features, “Like the pig from that movie?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“No, I--”

“I’m kidding. I’m not a little kid, Paul.” She teased, tilting her head up to look at him, “Just because you guys treat me like a fragile little girl, doesn’t mean I am. I had a life before I met you.”

She reached up and with the pad of her index finger, smoothed out the lines caused by his furrowed brows.  The stress Paul felt about finding her dissipated with one touch.

Here we go again.

Oh, the places he wished she would actually touch.

Before he could respond Leah arrives with clothes in mouth. Dropping them to the forest floor, Sage was quick to pick them up. Patting Leah's head in thanks. The red hoodie she had borrowed from him and an old pair of shorts that belonged to Paul swallowed her body. All her curves that were on display for him, now gone.

Paul cleared his throat as Leah left to go back on patrol, gaining Sages attention again,  “There's going to be a thunderstorm tonight.”

She hugged her arms around her, the teasing nature wiped from her aura, “Another one?”

He nodded, concerned about just how scared she was of storms, “I have patrol tonight, are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah,” She said unconvincingly.

-----

Sage was not fine at all.

The storm was worse than the night before, the wind was eerie and everytime she shut her eyes a boom of thunder would reverberate in her room. Sleepless nights weren’t uncommon for her, but she was terrified. 

Her mom used to tell her to distract herself, find something happy to think about, something that would keep her calm and unafraid.

The only thing she could think about was Paul.

And how he was currently stuck out in the storm. That horrified her.

Sage jumped as her bedroom door opened and she sat up in her bed, wide eyed staring at the person. 

Paul. 

She let out a sigh of relief. He was soaking wet, she could see the little droplets rolling down his bare chest.

“You’re still up.” He said, slightly confused.

She nodded, jumping as another crack of thunder hit.

“Okay, I’ll just be on the couch, call me if you need me--”

“I need you.” She begged 

“Fuck,” He whispered under his breath. He shut the door gently and moved to get into what she deemed was his side nights ago.

“Wait,” She stopped him, sitting up on her knees, his shirt she wore falling down to her thighs, “Your shorts are dirty and you’re all wet.”

He chuckled quietly, “You want me to change?”

She nodded, “If you want to sleep in my  bed, you need to be clean.”

Paul smirked, “Alright, little wolf.”

“I’m not little.” She griped as she settled back into bed. 

“You are compared to me, and the rest of the pack.” He turned to the dresser and took off his shorts, bare ass on display. He wasn't lying when he said he was comfortable with nakedness, “Didn’t realise wolves could be as small as you.”

“I could take you.” She said as her eyes travelled the length of his body, watching as he put on new boxers.

He chuckled, using a towel she had used after her shower to dry off his chest and hair best he could, “Better?”

“Much.”

 She waited for him to get in before pulling the comforter over both of them. She didn't hesitate to get close to him, soaking up his heat and safety from the raging storm. Though, she still found the bed to be uncomfortable as she shifted continuously for a comfy position

“Sage.” Paul muttered, his hand moving to her waist, stopping her from moving.

“Yeah?”

“Stop moving.”

“One sec,” She thread her leg between his, one hand resting on his chest the other underneath her cheek as she looked at him, face to face “Is this okay?”

“Little wolf,” His hand now on her thigh, very much aware she had no pants on, “You’re cold?”

Sage nodded, “How are you always so warm?”

“Genetics.” The older wolf's hand travelled up her leg under her shirt and up her spine, repeating the gesture to warm her.

A loud sound of thunder scared her causing her to jolt forward, even closer, “Sorry.”

“S’okay, you’re safe with me.” His breath was fanning her face, and he tucked her long hair behind her ear.  Another loud boom and she squeezed his bicep, clenching her eyes shut as a small whimper left her lips, “Too loud?” He asked gently and she nodded honestly.

“I just.. Need a distraction” Sage whispered in the darkness of the room.

“A distraction?” Paul questioned.

“Mhm.” She nodded, “Like something else to think about.”

“Okay.” His hand halted on her back. His lips were on hers for a short moment and as he pulled away she chased him, a gleam in his eyes as she whined, more so her wolf did. 

“Goodnight, little wolf.”

[what-do-1000-swords-look-like]

How the Show Gave Sansa 'What She Really Wants' & How the GA Got It So Wrong - The Dialogue Already Proved What Sansa Wanted

This post got really long

Lord Glover: "We did not choose you to rule us, my Lady. But perhaps we should have."

Lord Royce: "The Knights of the Vale came here for you, Lady Stark.

Sansa: "You're very kind, my lords. But Jon is our king. He's doing what he thinks is best."

Sansa: "I warned Jon this would happen. That he couldn't leave the North and expect it to just sit and wait for him like Ghost."

Arya: "He didn't. He trusted you to hold it for him."

Sansa: "Well, he's not making it easy. The Northern lords are proud."

Arya: "They were insulting Jon and you just sat back and listened."

Sansa: "I listened to their complaints which is my responsibility as Lady of Winterfell."

Sansa: "Winterfell didn't just fall into our hands. We took it back. And the Mormonts, and the Hornwoods, and the Wildlings, and the Vale. All of us working together."

Arya: "And if Jon doesn't come back, you'll need their support. So you can work together to give you what you really want."

Sansa: "How can you even think such a horrible thing?"

Arya: "You're thinking it right now. You don't want to be. But the thought just won't go away."

Sansa: "I came here everyday when I was a girl, prayed to be somewhere else. Back then I only thought about what I wanted, not about what I had. I was a stupid girl."

Sansa: "It's a pretty picture." *then she walks away*

Littlefinger: "I want you to be happy. I want you to be safe."

Sansa: "I am safe. I'm at home surrounded by friends. I have Brienne to protect me from anyone who would harm me."

Littlefinger: "What about happy? Why aren't you happy? What do you want that you do not have?"

Jon: "You're defending her? You?"

Arya: "I'm defending our family. So is she."

Jon: "I'm her family, too."

Arya: "Don't forget that."

Sansa: "What about the North? It was taken from us and we took it back. And we said we'd never bow to anyone else again. What about the North?"

Sansa: "That doesn't mean I want to kneel to someone--"

Arya: "We're family. The four of us. The last of the Starks."

Jon: "I've never been a Stark."

Sansa: "You are. You're just as much Ned Stark's child as any of us."

Jon: "She's everyone's queen now."

Arya: "Try telling Sansa."

Arya: "Jon. She knows who you are. Who you really are. You'll always be a threat to her. And I know a killer when I see one."

Tyrion: "Do you think I'm the last man she'll execute? Who is more dangerous than the rightful heir to the Iron Throne?"

Tyrion: "Why do you think Sansa told me the truth about you? She doesn't want Dany to be queen."

Jon: "She doesn't get to choose."

Tyrion: "No. But you do. And you have to choose now."

Sansa: "Jon will be Warden of the North so a good relationship seems likely."

Tyrion: "I don't expect him to spend much time here going forward."

Tyrion: "With Jon in the Capital, you'll be the true power in the North."

Sansa: "What are you worried about? Jon's taking our army with him, your queen still has her dragons--"

Tyrion: "She's your queen, too."

Sansa: "I don't want Jon to go down there. The men in my family don't do well in the Capital."

Tyrion: "No, but as your brother once told me, he's not a Stark."

*cue Sansa's "hating Jon and wanting the Northern power for herself" expression*

6x10 forehead kiss scene:

Jon: "I'm having the lord's chamber prepared for you."

Sansa: "Mother and Father's room? You should take it."

Jon: "I'm not a Stark."

Sansa: "You are to me."

8x01 Sansa solar scene:

Sansa: "You didn't tell me you were going to give up your crown."

Sansa: "Did you bend the knee to save the North? Or because you love her?"

7x02 Jon accepts Dany's invitation:

Sansa: "Have you forgotten what happened to our grandfather? The Mad King invited him to King's Landing and roasted him alive."

Sansa: "She is here to reclaim the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. The North is one of those Seven Kingdoms. This isn't an invitation, it's a trap."

Jon: "I know it's a risk but I have to take it."

Sansa: "Then send an emissary, don't go yourself."

Jon: "Daenerys is a queen. Only a king can convince her to help us. It has to be me."

Sansa: "You're abandoning your people. You're abandoning your home."

Jon: "I'm leaving both in good hands."

Sansa: "Whose?"

Jon: "Yours. "

*cue Sansa's "power hungry" expression*

Jon: "You are my sister. You're the only Stark in Winterfell. Until I return, the North is yours."

7x03: Sansa & Bran in the Godswood:

Sansa: "I wish Jon were here."

Sansa: "You're Father's last living trueborn son. You're Lord of Winterfell."

7x04 Arya and Sansa reunite in crypts:

Arya: "Jon left you in charge."

Sansa: "He did. I hope he comes back soon. I remember how happy he was to see me. When he sees you...his heart will probably stop."

Sansa: "How did you get back to Winterfell?"

Arya: "Long story. I imagine yours is, too."

Sansa: "Yes. And not a very pleasant one."

Arya: "Mine either. But, our stories aren't over yet."

Sansa: "No, they're not."

8x06 Starks saying goodbye:

Sansa: "I wish there had been another way. Can you ever forgive me?"

Jon: "The North is free thanks to you."

Sansa: "But they lost their king."

Jon: "Ned Stark's daughter will speak for them. She's the best they could ask for."

*cue Sansa's "I won" and "power hungry" expression*

Sansa: "Where's Jon?"

Greyworm: "He is our prisoner."

Sansa: "So is Lord Tyrion. They were both to be brought to this gathering."

Greyworm: "We will decide what we do with our prisoners. This is our city now."

Sansa: "If you look outside the walls of your city, you will find thousands of Northmen who will explain to you why harming Jon Snow is not in your interest."

Asha: "I swore to follow Daenerys Targaryen."

Sansa: "You swore to follow a tyrant."

Asha: "She freed us from a tyrant. Cersei is gone because of her and Jon Snow put a knife in her heart. Let the Unsullied give him what he deserves."

Arya: "Say another word about killing my brother and I'll cut your throat."

8x06 Jon and Tyrion 2nd jail cell scene:

Tyrion: "Sansa and Arya wanted you freed but they understand our new king needs to make peace. No one is very happy."

8x06 Sansa asks for Northern independence:

Sansa: "I love you, little brother. I always will and you'll be a good king. But tens of thousands of Northmen fell in the Great War defending Westeros. And those who have survived have seen too much and fought too hard ever to kneel again. The North will remain an independent kingdom. As it was for thousands of years."

*cue Arya's "That power hungry bitch, I knew she wanted to rule all along, I'mma get her" expression*

Sansa didn't want power. Sansa didn't want the Iron Throne or to even rule the North. She wanted her home (aka Winterfell/the North/safety), her family's safety (including Jon), and she wanted the North to be independent. The only power she wanted was to ensure that what happened to their family never happened again, to their family or to any other Northern family. And to herself. She respected Jon and knew he would be a good ruler, before she found out the truth of his parentage. His bastard status or their childhood relationship (or lack thereof) didn't matter to her in the least.

Jon: "Do you think I'm Joffrey?"

Sansa: "You're as far from Joffrey as anyone I've ever met."

Jon: "Thank you."

Sansa: "You're good at this, you know."

Jon: "At what?"

Sansa: "At ruling."

Jon: "No."

Sansa: "You are. You are. They respect you, they really do, but you have to-- Why are you laughing?"

She wanted his respect in return and for him to listen (not because she thought she was the smartest person on the planet but because she had valuable advice/input that could help him and them all), both of which she got. She didn't want to be the one who rules them all. That was Dany. Her motivations were similar to Cersei (both wanting to protect their families) but her intentions were different. She never wanted a crown, only assurance of their safety as well as hers.

Everything she did in season 7 after his departure was to ensure Jon didn't lose his army for the upcoming battle with the Night King.

Sansa: "Glover has 500 men. Royce has 2,000. Offend them and Jon loses his army."

When Bran came back, she was immediately willing to give the regency over to him. When he didn't want it (because, you know, that whole 3ER thing that apparently went poof in 8x06), she continued doing what she could to make sure Jon's army and the Northern people continued being ready for the battle. And she did it well.

Littlefinger: "Command suits you."

Sansa: "As soon as we heard about The Wall, I called all the banners to retreat to Winterfell. Lord Umber, when can we expect your people to arrive?"

Ned: "We need more horses and wagons, if it please my Lady, and my Lord, and my Queen. Sorry."

Sansa: "You'll have as many as we can spare. Hurry back to Last Hearth and bring your people here."

(cue Sansa's talk with Royce about keeping the gates open to the last possible moment so people could still come in from the countryside before the Dany and Sansa convo in 8x02 in the library)

She even refused to abandon her people (aka her family since Jon, Arya, and Bran were all going to be in the battle) when the NK's army came, until Arya arms her and tells her to get into the Crypts. And once in there, Sansa accepts that there is nothing more she can do since she is not trained to fight. "The most heroic thing we can do is look the truth in the face." And when the dead start rising, she eventually fights them with Tyrion (though they cut the scene after they shot it, because apparently Dany, Arya, Alys, and Brienne, and Jon, Jaime, Theon, and Greyworm, were the only ones allowed to be considered heroes in this episode) to try to save who is left as well as themselves.

When Littlefinger threatened her family (both Bran and Arya, then Jon by extension), she took action and eliminated the threat while keeping part of Jon's army for him.

Arya: "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Sansa: "It's not what I want. It's what honor demands."

Arya: "And what does honor demand?"

Sansa: "That I defend my family from those who would harm us. That I defend the North from those who would betray us."

When she realizes that Jon manipulated Dany into going North to help fight the NK (and save her "people"), she then immediately switches into friendly mode and tries to ascertain if the North (and the Starks/Jon) could be free.

She didn't want Dany dead; she wanted to avoid having another tyrant in power. She had already experienced Joffrey and Cersei. She didn't want to submit to anyone else's rule ever again so she and her family (and the North by extension) would be safe. The 7x01 conversation she and Jon have about the NK being the enemy to the North and Cersei being the enemy to the South very clearly indicates that the North/Winterfell (and hence, the Starks) are caught in the middle of both conflicts (and this is right after Jon has received Tyrion's scroll to join Dany's fight against Cersei, so now they're in the middle of that one, too, no matter how they answer).

She didn't tell Jon's secret to Tyrion to get Jon killed or to kill Dany or to just cause chaos. She did it to save Jon's life (and to get him back home with his crown restored). She didn't know what would happen to KL or how Jon would be forced to choose to end Dany's tyranny in that way.

Littlefinger: "One of two things will happen. Either the dead will defeat the living in which case, all our troubles come to an end. Or life will win out. And what then? Don't fight in the North, the South. Fight every battle everywhere, always. In your mind. Everyone is your enemy. Everyone is your friend. Every possible series of events is happening all at once. Live that way and nothing will surprise you. Everything that happens will be something that you've seen before." (this is what Sansa gleaned the most from Littlefinger and this is exactly what she does in the last season and in season 7 after this convo takes place - and funnily enough, right after this, Bran arrives back home, Bran who is now the 3ER and knows 'every possible series of events is happening all at once' and 'everything that happens will be something that you've seen before')

She literally

Defended

Her Family (and the North)

It's no surprise that she ended up being named Queen in the North (after Jon was not allowed to be restored to any titles)

Bonus:

Sansa's "power hungry" and "jealous" expression she exchanges with Littlefinger when Jon is named KitN and she sees how unhappy Littlefinger is at this turn of events (after he revealed he wants the IT with her in the Godswood scene):

[cannotflyarc]

@soldwrecked's arth.ur donaldson sent: ❝ how are we going to break the news to them that they’re getting a sister? ❞

keeping a secret like this from their daughters feels unnatural. there's a countless amount of information that they don't need to know and johanna doesn't like keeping the extent of her first marriage from laura and art doesn't like answering questions about lily's mother, the news of her growing bump is different. they hadn't exactly counted on having another child immediately after moving back to new york. this baby won't be any less loved than their sisters. ( laura and canary weren't exactly, well, planned either. ) johanna can already imagine how the older girls' faces will brighten at the news of another sibling, the same way they did when they were told about canary. perhaps, they'll even have a brother this time.

more than anything, johanna's beyond grateful again that she's doing this with art.

❝ art, ❞ slightly exasperated tone, though she smiles, ❝ we don't know if they're a girl. it's impossible to tell. besides, wouldn't you like a boy at some point? ❞ her knees were raw from all the times she would bend down to pray before laura was born, begging god to give her a son that she would protect. it feels like it's out of her hands when it comes to girls but she tries every single day. ❝ the girls will love it. well --- ❞ head tilts to the side ❝ --- i don't know if canary will love it. or realize what's going on. but she'll have a laura to her lily, right? it'll be nice for her to have a brother or sister closer to her age. ❞

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 86

Cw: mentions of violence, death , the usual

Taglist: @stargaryenx @mercedesdecorazon @aemondx @darylandbethfanforever9

Gif by @ashley-jones

“The Citadel names the clash that followed the Battle of the Kingsroad. The men who fought it named it the Muddy Mess. By any name, the last battle of the Dance of the Dragons would prove to be a one-sided affair.”

---The Dying of the Dragons: The Short, Sad Reign of Aegon II

While Vermithor would never replace Vhagar in his heart, Aemond had to admit the Bronze Fury flew like a dream.

Despite the rain, both dragon and rider managed to cut through Baratheon's ranks like butter.

Well, what was left of it anyway.

The Archers led by Black Aly decimated the horses and killed half the riders, those who managed to arrive near the shield wall were killed by Bloody Ben’s men.

Those who managed to escape the ensuing rout were met by a dragon hungry for violence.

“Mercy, King Aemond!” Baratheon’s remaining men cry when he dismounts after.

Baratheon is not dead yet, despite his injuries the bastard is alive enough to be brought forth to Aemond and Aemma who had come like a silver goddess on her silver mount to put the fear of the gods in those who surrender.

They fall to their knees for them, more for her because they remember Aemma as the merciful princess who shares Baratheon’s blood.

“Yield, my lord.” She asks gesturing for the Maesters to treat the injured.

The man refused to be treated, but the Maesters do so anyways going as far as removing his dented armor.

But he won’t yield, not when he knows he’s too far deep to get away with it. Had he not sided with Aegon to give Cass a crown, perhaps he could simply yield with minor repercussions.

“I’d sooner dance in hell than wear your chains.” The man said with a curse before taking his own dagger and plunging it into his stomach.

Seven days later, his second son, Olyvar Baratheon, is born.

Had the man had more sense, he would have lived to meet him.

A shame so many had to die for this.

“They say he claimed Vermithor. They call him Jaehaerys Reborn.”

Every word and raven that comes after the Battle of the Kingsroad makes Corlys laugh like a madman.

Aegon would go against his own brother, the person he had believed would put him over his own wife.

By New Year’s Day, the rightful queen will sit on the Iron Throne and all this will end.

Word had come saying the last of his allies had changed their allegiance.

Lady Lannister would give her fealty in exchange for calling off Dalton Greyjoy, Lady Tyrell had her men take the remaining Hightowers into custody, Ser Tyland Lannister, Ser Marston Waters and Ser Julian Wormwood had all been captured by loyalists before they even left the bay.

Corlys did not need to bend the knee.

“Rhaenys, my love, just let me live long enough to see Laenor’s girl take what was meant to be yours.” Corlys prays to the only one being he ever had absolute faith in, his late wife.

It would not be long now, Corlys can feel the coldness of the Stranger in his bones. Either he will lose his head or whatever illness has taken root inside him will have him be burned with his ship.

He only asks that his remaining grandchildren get to be at peace when they have him join their parents and grandmother in the afterlife.

It is not much, but the Gods have never been generous anyways.

Aemma knows that by this time tomorrow, it will be finally over.

It had stopped raining by the time they reached Hayford.

They are given the Lord’s rooms because Hayford’s only remaining family are a maiden aunt, a babe sharing a nursery with his three-year-old sister, Lyra, the heiress of Hayford.

“Tomorrow, I will fuck you so hard you will limp on your way to the throne.” Aemond gives a hoarse laugh. “Gods, I miss our bed.”

“I would rather sleep on the floor than sleep in Aegon’s bed.” Aemma said and added, “Remind me to have his shit burned when we get there.”

It’s over tomorrow with the dawn they fly into the city and finish it.

Tomorrow they will arrest Aegon or kill him.

Aemma doesn’t know why that is enough to have her roll out of the bed and spill this evening’s supper into the chamber pot.

“Another dream, love?” Aemond asks, brow creased with worry as he helped her back to bed.

“I think I may be with child again.” she answered shaking her head. “I wager it’s a girl.”

And sure enough, the Maester can confirm her pregnancy with a sample of her urine and some wine.

Man fancied himself a pisse prophet, claims to know how to read piss and congratulated them on another son.

Seven moons later the good maester will apologize for his mistake when Princess Aenya, or Aennie for short, is born.

Aenya who will bring Dorne into the Realms with the only blood being that of her maidenhead by marrying Prince Morgan Nymeros Martell, son of Aliandra Nymeros Martell.

But that is still too long in the future and these dreams Aemma has are quickly forgotten the next morning.

“Do you think he will surrender?” she asks Aemond who tightened the chains on her saddle with enough wiggle room for her to jump should she have to.

“There is only one way to find out.” His hands shakes and had he not been wearing gauntlets, she would have taken them in hers and kissed them in assurance.

When they fly into Kingslanding, there are no cheers like before.

There are frightened screams drowning out those who cheer for them.

They cry for mercy thinking she will burn them to the ground.

But they did not attack them, so that was a good omen.

They land in the courtyard, where Jaehaerys and Alysanne once did with these same dragons.

Larys Strong comes to them, bows as best as he can and reveals a dead Aegon whose face had turned purple from poison.

“And so, it ends.” Aemond whispers, trying not to look at his brother’s corpse with pity.

He has her grandfather who is not too bad from his stint in the black cells with a circlet once worn by Queen Rhaenys, then her good daughter, Queen Alyssa, and would have been worn by her daughter, Jocelyn Baratheon, when Prince Aemon ascended the Iron Throne.

A Valyrian steel circlet with seven rubies that matched Aegon the Conqueror’s Crown and had been returned by Princess Deria of Dorne on the orders of her father.

A simpler thing than that of Alysanne and Aemma Arryn and Alicent Hightower.

And a different legacy as well.

“The King is dead, Long Live the Queen.”

With those words, the Dance of the Dragons ends.

----

Next up: the epilogue

[the-pinstriped-hood]

Right where you belong

The Warehouse the limo you pulled up to was large and lit, a fair ways outside of the city just near the harbour. You had been squished between two large mobsters in match pinstriped black and white suits, your fellow officers sitting opposite you, smoking like a pair of chimney stacks.

"Don't look so glum, Rookie. You need to know your place in the department and if the Commish won't straighten you out, the Boss sure will." Eddie started. He and Jack shared a laugh as the two mobsters stayed silent as the grave. The whole ride made you feel claustrophobic between being squeezed on either side and all the smoke pouring out the windows of the vehicle. It felt like an eternity as the car finally came to a halt and everyone was getting out, your cohorts keeping their hands on your shoulders to make sure you don't run.

The short gravel road led up to the imposing building as you were quietly praying for your life. Getting onto the police force was hard enough but now you were about to be found out and or shot by gangsters!

The small eyeslit in the door slid to the side, revealing a strange man's face and an eye peering out.

"We got a snitch for the Boss, Vinny. Open up!" Jack grinned. There was a gruff nod and the eyeslit was slammed shut only for the metal door to open and the group led inside.

You got a better look as you were being hauled upstairs towards the office. He was imposing, wearing a mask, his long hair pulled into a ponytail that hung over his shoulder. He eyed you with a head tilt and walked off to oversee his own duties.

The higher you got up the stairs the more of the operation you got to see. It was massive, barrels upon barrels of booze and moonshine were being shipped out, made and brought in from other places in the city. No doubt from other illegal moonshiners.

Eddie knocked upon the door and a short, scraggly toothed man opened up, sucking on a cigarette, in the same outfit as everyone else here except for you and your two crooked cohorts. "We need to speak to the boss. We caught this little snitch snooping 'round one of our drop offs. Tried to Arrest us, almost blew our operation open."

The shorter man, who was named Lester leaned against against the door frame.

"Yeah I'm sure he'd like to be notified." Lester got closer to you as you hid your face with your brim. "Something wrong with 'is face...."

"Bring the bastard close. I wanna have a chat with him.." a voice spoke. In the corner of the room the brim of his fedora hiding his eyes except for the end of his cigarette lighting his face barely. Your cohorts threw you Infront of the desk to your knees as you were left alone with the Boss.

You watched him get up slowly, crossing to the other side of the desk leaning against it.

"So, somebody wants to play hero? Chere, that's not how we do things here."

Bending down he held you by your chin forcing you to look up at him. He was an older gentleman by the looks of it, the most handsome blue eyes. The ones that matched the man at the door.

The Boss examined you quietly, slowly taking a knee to take a closer look his face breaking into a boyish smile.

"You certainly have them fooled, don't you kitten?"

You finally found your voice. "I don't-"

"Oh.." he crooned to you, "Please don't lie to me, you may have my brothers and everyone else fooled, but not me. What's a sweet little doll like you doing on the force, sneakin' around my storehouses?"

You were silent for a moment, looking like a guilty child who just had her hand caught in the cookie jar. "Now I'm not mad, I just wanna know what a sweet little thing like you was doing, hanging around a dirty place like that..." He pet your head, his voice almost a seductive southern whisper. You couldn't help but smile back.

"Was just trying to be a good cop...I saw something suspicious so I needed to do my job..."

The Boss chuckled. "Really? And who was sneaking around my storehouses that you saw suspicious?"

"My coworkers. They escorted me here, probably to have me killed or keep me quiet."

He nodded. "I see. Well, I know that women aren't really supposed to be on the force....I'll make you a deal, Doll. You keep this little meeting a secret, and I'll tell those two screwups you call Cops to keep your identity a secret. That way neither of us get in trouble, be such a shame to be rid of a pretty face like yours anyway. We have a deal?" He held out his hand.

His eyes met yours and you smiled, almost put into a trance like state. You shook his hand.

"Atta girl. Tell you what else, you tell me if anything else goes on and I'll reward you for it. Be my eyes and ears, I know I already have Tweedle Dee and Dum, but I know you could do so much better than those two. Coax way more info out of anyone there, give it a woman's touch..."

And so you were working with Bo Sinclair, the newest Southern Kingpin out by the harbor. Bo treated you like a confidant, a friend. A rose or two place on your desk at the station every day with a black ribbon and a tag on it signed 'From a Friend.'

[kkeidawrites]

KNY: S&C

Chapter 6: Beliefs

A small cross was plotted by the wisteria tree, a nice and quiet place for the fallen demon to rest. Aicha says a small prayer in their native language and both women begin to pray.

Once they were done, Amara pulls out the small ball from her small pack and rolls it around her left palm for a moment, then bends down on a knee in front of the grave. Placing the small ball in front of the cross, Amara stares at the cross for a couple of seconds then stands to full length again.

“Do we return to Urokodaki?” Aicha asks.

Amara rubs her neck, closing her eyes to think for a moment. They did complete their task, however, it made her wonder if they had returned too early would Urokodaki be suspicious of how quickly they had finished?

“Let’s stay the rest of the night and then we head back to the hut.” She tells her sister and the younger twin nods.

Returning to their campsite, the twins sit in silence, both contemplating as to their visual of demons and their behaviors. Was the demon king losing control of his own creations, or was there another reason?

So far, there have been two demons that they have met where their bloodlust was either satiated or they run away without even trying to get an ounce of blood from the first human they see.

Amara was at a cross roads with what she felt was the right thing to do and what was best for the situation. She wanted to kill all demons in the world, no hesitation but, the fact that she was beginning to feel guilty for wanting to kill Nezuko earlier.

Why did she suddenly feel like this? Why did it make her guilty of something that she so heartily believed was the right thing to do?

“Sister?” Aicha calls and Amara looks up at her twin.

“I think there has been…a change in my beliefs.” She explains hesitantly.

“Change?”

“Yes.” Aicha nods and crosses her legs.

“After we fought that demon I…I am unsure what is the right choice for the next time we run into one. If demons are beginning to grow some kind of mindset-a conscious mind then could it be true that they aren’t all evil?” Her sister inquired.

Amara was quiet for a moment. Her sister was asking all the right questions but Amara, herself was unsure how to answer them.

“So far we have only fought one demon who has pleaded for a mercy kill however, we cannot be careless and lose sight of the next demon that isn’t the same way.” Amara says.

“Of course but, what if what we were taught is not all the way true? Like we are missing something?” Aicha questions and Amara leans back on the tree behind her.

“I am not sure Aicha. We have the right to change our views on things if we believe that they are not right but…in this case I am not sure what to believe is right or wrong. I am just amazed that Nezuko is one of the first demons to refuse human flesh and his trust for her is so strong that it reminds me of us.” Aicha smiles at her sister and Amara returns the favor. “She and her brother share an interesting storyline.” Amara finishes and Aicha nods.

“Then if Tanjiro and Urokodaki-san trusts Nezuko, then I can respect their decision.” Aicha says.

Amara nods in understanding and crosses her arms, resting her head back on the tree and falling to sleep.

The next morning, the twins wake up early to return to the hut and during the trip down the mountain it would seem that they were both still in deep thought on their conversation last night, Aicha especially.

Aicha was introduced to demons at a very early age and the first of her siblings to face one. Of course, the entire situation was different from what she had experienced in the past but, when it came to wanting to neutralize Nezuko, a turned demon, she couldn’t go forward with the fight.

She wasn’t sure if it was her sister’s reassurance, Urokodaki-san’s sudden reaction and protection of the brother-sister duo, or her body freezing altogether.

By midday, the women return to the hut and find Urokodaki with an axe on his shoulder and three cut logs under his right arm.

He turns to the twins and the women bow in greeting to him.

“You’ve done it then?” He asks.

“Yes.” The women say in unison.

“Hm. Come inside, I’m sure you’re both hungry.” He walks inside of his hut with the twins following behind him, placing their bags neatly by the door.

Aicha looks around the hut to see that two futons were placed on the outside of the guest room.

“Where-?”

“Tanjiro has started his first mission in the northwest. He wanted to stay as long as possible to tell you both farewell but, the mission seemed urgent.” The man says and Aicha nods.

Urokodaki sets the piles of wood beside the door and moved to the cabinets to grab three bowls.

“Safe travels to them both.” The twins says their prayers and Urokodaki kneels by the small hanging pot over the burning fire place. He lifts the covering of the pot and inside boiled miso soup. Urokodaki slides over a bowl of steamed rice and parcels it into three bowls next to him.

The twins sit across from Urokodaki and he hands them both the bowls of rice then a smaller bowl of miso soup.

They all eat in silence, the twins offering their bowl for more miso soup. Urokodaki had no problem refilling their bowls as he only made enough miso and rice for at least a family of five.

“When you destroyed the demon,” Urokodaki begins as he sets aside his bowl to sit at his side.

“What have you noticed?” He asked and the twins looked up at him in question, then realization occurred.

“You knew the demon was that way?” Aicha asked.

“I have heard from the village that it didn’t harm anyone as far as they were aware. Only ones that were harmed were the livestock and butcher shops. Still, it was causing unnecessary mayhem.” He says.

“What have you learned from this experience to what you have been taught?” He questions and the twins are quiet as they think of their next answer.

“I learned…I learned that I don’t know if what I’ve trained for and believed in, is true anymore. I feel that…that there is just something that is amiss inside of me that I can’t explain it. I know that all demons are evil and have their own vendettas however, upon meeting Nezuko and the demon from last night…I have too many questions with no answers.” Aicha says. Amara nods to her sister’s answer, agreeing with her.

“The questions I can’t even formulate or begin to understand is what is making me confused about everything. I’m afraid that if I let my guard down on another demon because their backstory seems ‘believable’ then I wouldn’t be able to protect myself or the people around me.” Amara speaks up and Urokodaki nods in understanding.

“Your concerns are understandable and your questions valid, however…it would seem that it is up to the both of you to decide whether or not that you follow through with your beliefs and if what your next actions are the correct ones.” He teaches and picks up the tea pot next his his foot.

Pouring himself some tea, he slightly lifts his mask to take a couple sips then sets it back down in front of his knees.

“Your beliefs don’t have to control your life it is all up to you to make the right choice in the end. Sometimes, a decision can be wrong and there will be consequences but it is the fact that you had made the decision to somehow interfere with the situation that makes it either right or wrong.” Urokodaki says and the twins nod in somewhat understanding.

“Now then,” he gets up from his spot and focuses on the twins.

“It is time for your next lesson.” Is all he says and heads to the door with the women following behind him.

That night, Aicha and Amara were writing a letter to their family and rubbing some salve on their wounds that they received from their training earlier that day.

“We descended the mountain today, it was filled with booby traps but it was to hone our surroundings much better. Sound familiar mother? I feel down a spike pit a couple of times because I couldn’t remember where it was placed.” Aicha chuckles as she uses the paintbrush and ink to write her letter.

Amara rubs the salve on her right arm over a sore that was smarting and groaned in pain.

“Should I tell mother about Tanjiro and Nezuko?” Aicha asks.

“I think just telling about us is enough for now. I’m not sure how she’ll react if she finds out that we actually met a demon and did not exterminate it.” Amara suggests.

It was too early to tell anyone else about Nezuko and Tanjiro, it’s best to keep their secret between them because who knows how much trouble that all parties involved would be in.

“Would you like to add anything?” Aicha asks and Amara looks up at her from her spot near the wall and nods.

Crawling over to her sister’s side, she takes the paintbrush from her hand and begins to write while Aicha sets up their futons for bed.

Two weeks pass by, finally after the grueling training and survival process, Urokodaki told them that they were ready to continue their journey to the Northeast.

He stands outside with the twins, both donning new clothes that they were given by their friendly salesman Sakoni from the village. It was his way of saying he appreciated the help and the other villagers gifted them some food as well.

Amara sports a haint blue kimono with white and light blue coloring on it. Gakuran top with five buttons open showing off left side of breasts, and a white/grey tube top shown beneath. A black skirt with a slit on both sides of hips along with haint blue socks that stop over the knees and kyahans.

Aicha wears a dark blue and light blue colored kimono, with dark blue gakurans that has short sleeves. A dark blue skort, black stockings and kyahans. Her and Amara’s hair was styled in passion twists, Aicha’s were pulled back into two buns with a few twists hanging on the side of her face.

“As of today, you have made it clear that you are ready to take care of yourselves. I have taught you everything that I could possibly teach you about how to survive and kill demons, now it is time for you both to continue your mission.” Urokodaki says as the twins listen to him intently.

“If you need my help, you know how to find me.” He says and the twins bow to him. Urokodaki bows as well and crosses his arms as he sits back up.

“Head northeast, there you will find the Butterfly Mansion. Once there, ask for Ubuyashiki Kagaya and show them this,” he hands two envelopes to Amara.

“It will explain everything for you and then some.” He explains and the twins nod.

Again, they bow to the old man then they pull him into a hug earning a confused noise from him then returning the hug.

Once they let go, the twins fixated their attention to the northeast taking that first step toward a new journey, confidence bubbling from their energy and a determined smile on each of their faces.

Their next stop: The Demon Slayer Corps

[carrion-carry-on]

Whumptober No. 27

Pushed to the limit - Stumbling

The second part to the narrative will take place at the same time as the previous - this time focusing more on Echo and Tech. Basically they get caught up in the raging herd and try to get to a tree to lay low (or rather, high), like Hunter and Shift.

Certain events in this part of the fic are inspired by a video I’ve seen of a leopard coming in and stealing from hyenas (and other similar acts of animal dickery lol)

AO3 Link

The sound of thunderous paws hitting soft ground is not unlike metallic marching of droids. Only that had been organized footfalls, each in step with its neighbor; the rank and file never broke until battle was reached. This was a stampede - a clamorous web of sound which slightly confused his audio sensory hub. And he didn’t quite understand why it was happening.

Echo had backtracked to Tech’s position - hiding down in the low brush which came to knee-height - after doing his part in the hunt. Then there’d been a vague shout, the deafening sound of tens, if not a hundred, bodies, and he was running. Tech was beside him, keeping pace even whilst occupying his hands with something. He’s about to ask when his brother nonchalantly tosses the something over one shoulder and speeds up slightly, if it were possible. Echo doesn’t dare say anything and pushes his legs to carry him faster, farther.

One loud pop later, and Echo is following Tech’s lead as he banks left, towards a small copse of trees. Then the ground is ripping and he barely spots something that’s caught up on Tech’s right foot and he’s falling, stumbling. Echo narrowly avoids sprinting past his brother and hauls the younger clone upwards by the gorget of his armor. But it’s no use, his foot is tangled in the weeds. It’s not getting loose.

Echo bends down and begins frantically tearing at the snarled flora with both his hand and scomp arm. Tech’s hands are there, slightly thinner, fingers lithe and spry. His eyes barely have time to wander to the side and behind them. The object Tech had fiddled with and subsequently thrown appeared to have been a smoke bomb. Noise and smoke would only deter these animals for a short time. They knew that from their talk with the locals. Once these animals saw you as a threat, they’d waste no time running you down.

Working together, they’ve managed to free Tech from the green and muddy not-quite-ground. Only Tech does not move to run. His face, what Echo can see of it, is twisted into a grimace. He knows that look. An injury. Likely the foot had been yanked the wrong way, or twisted as he fell. Tech glances over at Echo and they again work together. Echo turns his back to Tech, who brought both arms up and over to rest on Echo’s shoulders. After, Echo stooped forward again, moved his arms back, and tucked them around Tech’s legs. With a jump to arrange, Tech was settled safely up on Echo’s back.

Echo took off at a brisk trot which picked up speed as he went. He’s running, making again for the tress that could be their only salvation. No time - Echo realizes this as he hears, then sees, a confused bolwog coming as death through the smokescreen. Echo freezes immediately. It’s not charging them. Likely only the creature’s uncertainty and Echo’s sudden stillness keeps man and beast apart.

It watches the pair through deep brown eyes, now black in the darkness of night. Echo notices the animal’s nostrils flaring to take in the scents. He prays to whatever might be listening that the mud and shredded flora covering him and Tech are enough to confuse it. One paw stretches out, and it makes a cautious halfway move toward them.

“The smoke will be irritating its nose and eyes,” Tech whispered in his ear. “The animals likely won’t be too keen to follow us further. However just to be safe, I suggest we find those trees to shelter in till they pass and we can regroup.”

“It’s safe to move?” Echo asks.

Echo can feel Tech nod affirmation against his neck. “Go slow, and back away.”

The older clone shuffles his boots through the treacherous tangle of growth. It clears away just enough to begin the painstaking-slow pace backwards. The bolwog watches them charily. They are still predators to it. But the idea they are moving away might mean -

An explosion of sound and a heavy body slamming into them from behind cuts Echo from his thoughts. Claws - not belonging to any bolwog - scrape and shudder against Echo’s back. Where Tech had been.

It’s a massive wave of confusion as Echo strikes out with his scomp arm. He hears a surprised, pain-filled yelp and can barely feel the hint of warmth. It must be a predator. Another predator, or a scavenger, trying to take advantage of the confusion. Bolwogs are highly prized prey - but this one may have just been settling for a human.

Echo pulls away from those claws and whirls round to face his enemy. Another part of his focus goes to finding Tech. Both meet “satisfaction” as he spots them. The carnivore is big, not as big as the bolwog, but enough. Four limbs, each ended in a padded paw. The fur is matted and sodden, appearing grey in the moonlight; likely a lighter color during the day. Bristling spines ran down its back, hind legs, and tail, rattling as the creature moved. Bright eyes appeared to shine as they watched Echo and Echo watched it. There were large teeth, their formidable tusks pointed out and down. Between them, clamped in the animal’s mouth, was Tech.

His shoulder, to be specific, had been taken almost entirely into the predator’s jaw. There’s blood in the water and on the air. Tech is moving still, despite the staredown Echo and the creature are having. And with no small amount of relief, Echo notices the animal mainly has a grip on the clone’s armor - not Tech himself.

The bolwog, nearly forgotten behind them, snorts loudly. And then Echo moves. He lunges for the predator at the same time Tech manages to find one of many hidden latches to pop the armor free. It’s a fake-out, only a sudden movement to hopefully spook the bolwog into action. It doesn’t disappoint.

While the predator had been half-focused on Echo and on the bolwog behind him, each of the latter had only to focus on one thing. Echo on Tech, and the bolwog on the bigger animal. Echo grabbed Tech, and the bolwog managed to drive into the carnivore.

“They can tear each other apart,” Echo spat, as he raised to his feet and took off at a dead sprint. Tech didn’t say anything - he was breathing too hard - but nodded the same.

[omshant]

Hey guys: so, Tola reached out to me. You know, Matthew Piatkowski, “Tola,” who I dated 2019-2020? Unfortunately he also plagued those years with his deranged, diabolical and demented schemes of cruelty: hacks, scams and scare tactics, bullying, spying/secret recording, threats/blackmail, harassment, sabotage, and other kinds of abuse.

I feel like he ruined my life. I feel like he murdered my soul.

The first weekend we hung out, Tola showed me how to smoke and shoot meth. I got too high too fast. Tola then said he would call over an escort to pay us to give us both oral sex. I didn’t object. I didn’t complain. I just wanted more drugs.

So then this kid comes in to Tola’s apartment and says his name is Ethan. He also said he was 19 and gave Tola his (fake) ID to prove it. I did not protest. I bought it and believed everything I was told.

But I was wrong. I was dead wrong. Ethan was not 19. No way. I suspect Ethan was much younger. But idk tbh.

It's so hard to forgive myself man. I don't know what to do.

I just know now that Ethan’s story was untrue because I looked it up. I couldn’t find him or his college info anywhere online. It must have been all a lie. Maybe Tola even told him ahead of time what to say. I don’t know. I still don’t know. At least not knowing is not a sin, right?

Then I sobered up, came to and saw the truth.

My gut burst. My head reeled. My heart broke. And my mind went lost forever. Forgive me. I cried and cried. To this day I cry. Like all I ever know how to do is cry and make it worse, cry and make it worse.. Welcome to real life.

Idk. I feel like I’ve done all I can do now to try and make it make sense and make it all right. But I can never do enough. Alas, I am truly a wretched sinner, emptied and lost, a sorry excuse of a man.

Even so, come, Lord Jesus. And in the interim I must inquire: guys, do you think those other guys who ruin lives, guys like Tola, are still out there ruining lives? Are they still out reaping corruption? Still warring against the Spirit? Who knows?

I told the PHL police and the FBI multiple times. I speak openly about what happened, down to the last detail I remember. I talk even to my own unbearable shame and embarrassment. I refuse to be intimidated. I am who I am. I’m me. I’m just me. And they are what they are: a greedy/hellish human trafficking gang/operation ready and equipped to force/push their will upon the innocent.

Yikes….it is what it is. We live in a fallen world. And I am not innocent. But I at least will do my best to do the right thing: to help however I can. In the meantime, pray. Pray for Ethan. Pray for the kids. And pray for me, too. Pray that God might look with favor on my ignorance, naïveté, and sincerity here.

I was tricked.

I tried to kill myself twice in the following year, once with pills and once with jumping 75 feet off the top of Tysons Corner 1 mall parking garage tower E. Tola and those guys probably loved to see it: to see me, the one whom they hate most, the one who won’t shut up or bend a knee before their greedy empire, finally die…

Yet here I am, I’m alive. Jesus saves.

For weeks after the jump I bled out while split wide open at Fairfax hospital. My insides were then hooked to a catheter, colostomy bag, breathing tube, and enough screws/hardware to label me bionic. Eventually God restored my strength enough to get out of the hospital bed and get sober. I decided I want to live again. Recovery matters. My life matters.

O brother, I got issues. I know I got issues. O friend, I messed up. I know I messed up.

O reader, stay tuned. I got more to say:

Those other guys, the weirdo guys who tricked me, are still out there. And I think they will continue to lie, cheat, ruin, corrupt, kill, and destroy unless/until they are stopped.

Pray for mercy. Pray for justice.

How many fools like me have they cornered? How many kids like Ethan have they recruited? And what all can be done about it now?

Am I making sense? Believe me.

I know I got issues: bipolar/schizo, suicide/ideation, racing/intrusive thoughts, mania/psychosis, obsessive/compulsive disorder and other kinds of disability. But believe me.

I think I know I’m right about all this.

God will reveal more.

Make no mistake.

Lord how I wish I never met Matthew Piatkowski or “Tola,” Carmine Clemente, Jim Marshall, Chris Naughton or any of those guys. All they wanted was to take advantage, get me high and film me getting sodomized by Jim while Carmine and Tola laughed at and made fun of me for screaming. Since day one, Tola, Carmine, Jim and those guys loved to terrorize me and mock my good intentions.

I blame myself. It’s my fault. I let it happen. Tola received oral sex from Ethan first before coming over and sitting next to me on the couch. Then Tola “passed out” while Ethan was still going.

With Tola now seeming to be asleep, it became my turn. Ethan came over to me and he put his mouth on my you-know-what for a few seconds. I was not hard. Still, I pretended to like it so Ethan wouldn’t feel bad. SMH. Tbh I wanted no part in any of this. How I wish I could go back and make amends.

I'm such an idiot. I bought the whole act. I swallowed it all hook, line and sinker. I thought Ethan could be 19. I thought he had agreed to pay a price which included my participation. I thought I was doing what I had to do. Curse my idiocy. Curse my peoplepleasing. Curse my gullibility. I repent.

Afterwards, Tola was still pretending to be asleep on the couch. So, I had to handle the transaction. Ethan gave me the money, which I then gave to Tola, who then designated my “cut” (about $60). I didn’t want the money. I just wanted to forget the whole thing. I threw the $60 away when I got home.

Monday came around and I was hit with the realization of where I had been and what I had been doing. I exploded with remorse and groaned as a flood of tears, lamentation, and deep grief poured out of me. Tola said in response, and I quote, “Sorry, but I don’t give a fuck as long as it’s not a fed.”

Don’t believe me? Tola recorded everything. He does that for blackmail/ammunition.

I thought Tola owned me now by my own sorry submission and utter failure. I knew for sure he had me in check-mate.

Again, I feel like I have to hate myself. I feel like it's all my fault. I failed. I gave up. I believed everything I was told. I believed and thus consented to my own disgrace. I sank. I sold out. I sold all of me: soul, spirit, mind and body, for just one more hit of the meth pipe. I thought I needed just one more point/needle packed and ready before I try to kill myself again. In this vein, I shot up. And after I sold all that was left of me, or at least all that (still) matters, I auctioned off my integrity. I blotted out intuition. And I gave up former reason.

Hear me, brother: I fell to ruin. And it's all my fault! O Jesus, Master, Savior, help! Heal! Restore! Hold me! Hold me now! Hold me as I weep!

Brother, friend, beloved, hear me:

I believe

God’s got this.

In fact we know

God’s got this.

Because

God is love (1 John 4:7)

And "love wins"... right?

Love wins. 🙌🌈✝️

[seahgreenhorn]

'Falsely Called Knowledge'?

Our world ironically spins harried children, women, and men as hurricane winds of aspiring minds and fluctuating trends bend to breaking point honest hearts weakened, yet hoping and praying for communities to mend morally/or not by radically defending 'personal' 'righteous/unrighteous' 'laws/principles': But, "why do you judge your brother? Or why do you also look down on your brother? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God. For it is written: “‘As surely as I live,’ says Jehovah, ‘to me every knee will bend, and every tongue will make open acknowledgment to God.’” So, then, each of us will render an account for himself to God. "So, then, let us pursue the things making for peace and the things that build one another up." "The faith that you have, keep it to yourself before God. Happy is the man who does not judge himself by what he approves." "Indeed, everything that is not based on faith is sin." Rom. 14:19, 22, 23. For, "Faith is the assured expectation of what is hoped for, the evident demonstration of realities that are not seen." Heb. 11:1. So: "Let us consider one another so as to incite to love and fine works". Heb. 10:24. "Whatever you are doing, work at it whole-souled as for Jehovah, and not for men". Col. 3:23. "Be rich in fine works," "be generous, ready to share". "Arguments and debates about words"? These things give rise to envy, strife, slander, wicked suspicions, constant disputes about minor matters by men who are corrupted in mind and deprived of the truth". "Guard what has been entrusted to you, turning away from the empty speeches that violate what is holy and from the contradictions of the falsely called “knowledge.” 1 Tim. 6:4, 5, 20. For "the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God, for it is written: “He catches the wise in their own cunning.” 1 Cor. 3:19. Therefore: "Look out that no one takes you captive by means of the philosophy and empty deception according to human tradition, according to the elementary things of the world and not according to Christ". "Carefully concealed in him are all the treasures of wisdom and of knowledge. I am saying this so that no one may delude you with persuasive arguments." Col. 2:8, 3, 4.

"Poor quality information will lead to poor decisions. Never underestimate the powerful effect that misleading information can have on your mind and heart. Consider what happened in Moses’ time when 10 of the 12 spies who were sent to explore the Promised Land brought back a bad report. (Num. 13:25-33) Their exaggerated and outrageous account completely disheartened Jehovah’s people. (Num. 14:1-4, 6-10) Instead of getting the facts and showing confidence in Jehovah, they chose to believe the bad report."

Frequently Asked Questions

https://www.jw.org/en/jehovahs-witnesses/faq/

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