#these demons: got beef with other faith

[fiveslays-a]

Thrack! Down Faith went in a flash, an interrupted moment between her and her daughter. Granted it wasn’t a complete bonding moment, her guard was down for only a second to allow the swing to take place. Demon. Of course it was and in demon fashion, crash a party at the most inconvenient times. Standing back to place, Faith stands to position, gathering a look around to their company to a group of four. Their lips curling to a malicious sneer, eyes as red as crimson rubies scanning them like a free buffet. Boy were they about to be in for it. “Guess we’ll have to finish this later cuz we got company.” Two to the left, two to the right. She recognizes them immediately to be low ranking demons, an easy neck snap if Hope could pull through. “I’ll take the left, you take the right.”

@sacredslaycd​.

[will-o-the-witch]

Hello! Hope the day finds ya well.

A question but also request for you: would you mind explicating the term ‘Abrahamic’ and it’s issues? Or just in general the issues stemming from trying to group Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, plus any of their smaller denominations and derivatives, together.

Full disclosure as being white American and so at least culturally Christian. I know that from basic definitive cosmology difference that each are fully distinct. At the same time: the incorporation of similar core entities, at least linguistically, makes for a nearly direct connection between the three main belief systems. Further it implies a similar [certainly not the same] core scriptural continuum. From all that: is there a term or concept that neatly reconciles there being strong difference but retains the interrelation between the branches? Or is there use or anything beneficial in keeping them conceptually connected?

Also I know that this is a multi-faceted and complicated topic on any one of those facets and I wouldn’t want you to spend too much effort on it. Just looking for multiple perspectives.

Have a nice day in any case!

Hey there! Like you said it can be a complex issue but I will try my best to weigh in on it. ^^ Abrahamic isn't necessarily a dirty word in the way "Judeo-Christian" is (feh!) but the problem lies more with the way people misuse/misunderstand it. It's still a decently-functional term in academia for saying "hey these handful of religions have the same root text," but it stops being an accurate description if you step much farther outside of that. Even putting aside all of the (many) additional writings that make each tradition distinct, each group has a drastically different relationship with the texts and religion itself. Some versions of Christianity rearrange the order of the books to convey a different message. Muslim scholars consider the Hebrew Bible a mix of divine inspiration and human invention, and is therefore not a fully-reliable resource. Some traditions say God's word is law and can/should not be questioned. In Judaism, Israel literally translates to "struggling/wrestling with Gd" and we self-identify as a People where questioning and arguing with Gd is not only normal but even encouraged. You can even win those arguments. Some actively encourage proselytizing and others forbid it. There are no universal Abrahamic opinions or beliefs on sin (if they even recognize it,) tradition, practice, clothing or dietary requirements, demons, angels, prophets, encouraged/discouraged behavior, life after death, how to interpret the texts, or even God Xirself. There's really not as much connecting us as people tend to think. Anybody who says "Abrahamic religions believe..." is usually just talking about Christianity since that's what most people know and assume is universal. Conflating all of us together erases what makes us unique and spreads misinformation about who we actually are. In addition, it lumps smaller, more marginalized religions in with our oppressors which contributes to supersessionism and reinforces the idea of Christianity as a universal or superior belief system. It can direct the beef people have with Christianity onto more vulnerable populations for things that don't even apply to them. This got wordy (oops) but I hope it helps! Again, it's much less of a problem in academia when used correctly and it's not the most offensive thing in the world, but it's just important to be mindful. I recommend if you're talking about beliefs/practices/etc.... just be specific! :) "Judaism and the Baháʼí Faith tend to..."

[samwinchesterism]

hi i just need to take a moment to SCREAM about how badly they wrote sam’s response to meeting god in season 11. god!!! 11x20 is fine whatever, but ohhhh boy do i have beef with 11x21 my god 

so, okay. you have sam winchester, boy with the demon blood, lucifer’s true vessel, who has always felt unclean because of this evil inside him, and you have him canonically (at least at one point in his life) praying to god every single day, and expressing his desire for there to be a higher power so that “maybe [he] could be saved” from the evil in the world and the evil inside him. okay. and then you have him meet actual angels (who are dicks) and be bitterly disappointed that this is the thing that he’d been praying to this whole time. then you have him sacrifice his life and go to hell to be tortured for averting the apocalypse, the apocalypse that was enacted and endorsed by heaven to bring god back. and then goes through a whole other world of shit and then!!!!! and then!!!!! in season 11, he STILL has faith. he still prays to god at the beginning of the season for guidance, and genuinely believes that god is with him and that god chose him to help defeat the darkness. he believes it with his whole heart. 

and THEN. THEN. then he finds out from the entity that has viciously used, abused, tortured him, possessed him -- a torture so awful that the mere memory of it made his almost lose his mind permanently, the entity that he hates having a connection with more than anything, THAT entity - the DEVIL himself - that god was “never” with him. that this holiness that he thought could finally be his mission, instead of just evil and darkness, was a ruse by the devil to possess him - violate him - yet again. and it shatters him, you can see it (the writing doesn’t really address it, obviously, ever, but the acting does, thankfully). 

and then???????????????????? that’s it for a while pretty much????????  

but THENNNNN. then. then. they meet god. they meet god. they meet god. and one of the winchester brothers gets a nice manfully teary-eyed speech, replete with sadness and anger and betrayal, at god for abandoning the world and not intervening in any of the suffering that happened. “People – People pray to you. People build churches for you. They fight wars in your name, and you did nothing.”

and it’s dean. not sam. it’s dean!!!!! my god!!!! i literally had to close my laptop and take a walk to process this!!!!!! 

and how did they decide sam’s reaction to meeting god? the very same season that he got burned, badly, for still having faith despite everything? he’s fanboying. and that’s it, that’s literally it, that’s literally literally it. it’s like a bad, bad lazy copy-paste of sam meeting the angels in 4x07, except with these writers (buckleming) i’m not sure they’re even familiar enough with s4 canon to badly copy it? so maybe it was an independently bad choice? and 4x07 was fine because following his fanboyishness at meeting castiel etc. they addressed explicitly how sam was disappointed by the idea of god and heaven in the end, and dean cutely encouraging him to keep the faith was all very well-written imo. 

like. this is. this is unbelievable. 

but then it’s like, well it’s appropriate to give dean a dimensional, nuanced response to meeting god, because it’s not as simple as just saying, well dean never believed in god and didn’t keep the faith like sam, so he’s not going to react at all to meeting god - that’s fair, i agree, because we see dean struggling with faith throughout the show, so it’s all well and good that we should see dean struggle to respond to the idea of god as this deadbeat dad basically. so if there’s only space to give one brother a complex reaction to meeting god (which is a very very stupid premise but just bear with me it’s buckleming), then there’s an argument that it should be dean except 

later in the VERY SAME EPISODE, dean gets ANOTHER WHOLE SCENE WITH GOD, which this time is a one-on-one, where he AGAIN gets to give him a speech about  “we're not just some toys you throw away, i think you owe us more than that,” etc. twice!!! two times dean gets to address the fact that god royally fucked up in the same episode!!!! and sam is just fanboying!!! what!!!!!!!!!!!!! you had two spaces in the episode for the brothers to confront god, and you give them BOTH to dean??

like from a writing perspective, the “sam is getting visions from god but surprise it’s actually lucifer” plotline basically got dropped after 11x10 and the introduction of casifer and i guess that’s fine (it’s not but it’s not the thing i’m mad about at this particular moment), but would it not make sense to call it back when they actually meet god? and have that idea of faith in god be sam’s emotional throughline for the season, since it’s BEEN an issue that comes up time and time again in the show? i don’t even know what exactly i think sam’s reaction should have been, but it should have been complex (similar to dean’s first speech), it should have reflected that broken faith that happened with the “it was lucifer all along” reveal in the middle of the season because!!! it’s the same season!!!! and they never addressed it, they never even addressed the “i’m sure it’s god giving me visions and leading me on the righteous path” turning out to be “it’s the devil tricking me.” i’m not even asking for them to remember anything that happened in the rest of the show (i mean it would be good b/c this concept and theme goes way back to season 2) but holy shit. 

like, the only aftermath (i’m not even making this shit up i really really really wish i was) of sam’s time trapped with his foremost tormentor and abuser, is sam apologizing to dean for not looking for him in purgatory (which is a whole nother can of worms im not even touching it!! i’m not!! i can’t deal!!). that’s it. that’s it. that’s all. nothing else. 

and on top of that, the whole season you have this dean-and-amara connection, which ends up being the resolution to the WHOLE overarching plot of the season while sam just sits in a bar for the finale, and you don’t think that maybe, mayyybeeee, it makes sense to parallel the god-siblings with your main siblings and give some kind of meaningful narrative space for chuck-and-sam? but no dean’s gotta have the connection with amara (which is fine by me!! have nothing against dean having the mytharc) and then ALSO be the one to more meaningfully interact with god while sam just idk. asks him if he needs water. especially when sam’s whole arc in the first half of the season involved his amazingly unwavering faith in god after all this time and all this heartbreak and suffering? unbelievable it’s unbelievable!!!! why do i watch this show!!!!! 

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 6

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 6: And So It Begins

“I’m back,” MK tiredly said as he dragged his form out of the blazing sun and into the cool restaurant, “orders delivered, traffic long and people angry, but food is delivered.”

“Great, but you still have another delivery,” Pigsy replied as his back was turned.

“Just one,” he grinned, “compared to the other ten this will be a piece-,”

He slammed down 30 orders down in front of him on the already bustling counter.

“Of cake,” he deflated as he saw the monumental amount of food. “What the-Are we feeding an entire town?!”

“Close. Party, though I should have charged their ungrateful asses extra for the rush order,” he growled out, “who gives an hour warning Huh?!”

“Apparently them,” he groaned as he picked up and carried the whole load into the car.

“And when you get back, there are a dozen more orders to take care of,” Pigsy called out.

“Got it bossman,” he yelled out, then he slammed the door closed and he sat up straight with a grin, “alright this won’t be so bad.”

“BEEF? BEEF?!! I WANTED MISO! GET IT RIGHT YOU STUPID DRIVER! The voice yelled out at MK as the two stood at the doorway.

“I’m sorry but-,” he winced as he was cut off by the rude woman screech.

“You better be sorry! I could have your job for this big of a screw up! You are nothing!”

“Technically I just delivered your food,” he whispered to himself.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing!” He put on his best service smile, “I’m very sorry about this, how about I take your food back so that I can-.”

Splat

MK watched as the woman threw down her food in a fit of rage.

“There’s your damn food, now pick it up and get me a new one,” she spat out.

MK looked down at the pile of food that Pigsy put his sweat and blood into slowly dripping off the stone stairs. He took a deep breath as he put his hand in his pocket to subtly squeeze the stress ball and looked at the woman.

“I’m not cleaning that up,” he deadpans and walks back to the car.

“What?!”

“Also,” he rolled down his window when he got in the car, “if you would like to order for a party, next time call ahead of time.” He then quickly drove off until he could no longer hear the yells of the angry woman.

He rode until he reached the grocery store, parked at the edges of the lot where there were barely any cars, unbuckled his seat belt, and laid his head on top of the wheel.

“I. Hate. People. Sometimes.” He lightly banged his head with each word then he leaned back and took out the ball and squeezed it a few times. “I really do.”

He likes to think of himself as a pretty optimistic person, after having his whole life turned around and learning things can get better, he likes to think that the world can be good. But days like these, people like those, make him really put that side of him to the test and today he very much failed that. He should be glad that he didn’t go off on her, like what Pigsy did when some dude tried to scam him or Mei when she is feeling very competitive over some a-holes, but at the same time that sounds amazing.

He squeezed the ball a little tighter.

“I really want to see Dad right now,” he muttered to himself. It would be so easy, just one yell to him and he would be over in less than a second. “I really want him right now…but I made a promise to myself that I would do this without him.”

So he took a deep breath, lifted his head, put on his music, put away his rainbow stress ball, and slowly began his drive back to Pigsy restaurant.

It was during that drive back that he got a call, “Hello?”

“Hey MK, it’s me,” he stopped as he heard Pigsy's voice, he had a feeling he knows what this is about.

“Heyyy Pigsy, I’m almost at the store,” he tried and failed, to sound casual.

“I just got off a call with a very rude customer who said that you threw down her food when she was being oh so kind,” he bluntly said, “even mentioned about assaulting her.”

“That is so not how any of that went down!” He immediately said, “she yelled at me for saying that I made her food wrong and I told her that it can be redone, but she decided to instead throw down all of that food herself and told me to clean it up! Who does that?! And all of this was after she put her hand all through that food, which is so gross by the way, I mean other people are eating that, cause I know she ain’t-,” he was cut off by Pigsy chuckles.

“You don’t need to explain anything, I know you for far too long to even think that you would put too much salt in someone's food let alone throwing it down on the ground.”

“Oh,” he calmed down as he released the tension from the wheel, “that’s good.”

“Yeah, I told it to her straight just exactly how I felt about her being an utter ass to not only myself but my employees. Let’s just say that she was not happy about that and threaten to sue,” he could almost hear him shrug.

“What no!” He tried to stand up, only to realize he was still in the car and he was still buckled up. “I am so sorry!”

“Don’t be, cause jokes on her the world we live in has become pretty up to date with security and, more importantly, security cameras,” he said with a grin, “I don’t think she’s gonna get a single cent when everything that went down was all on video.”

MK let a smile spread across his face, bless technology and all its glory. “That’s good.”

“It sure is. Do you want to take a breather when you come back? I know that woman was more than a handful that what you're used to,” he asked in concern.

“Nope,” he cheerfully said, “I am A-Ok! Just get those next orders ready for me so I can deliver!”

“Well if you're certain, get your ass back here on the double,” he said, but the teenager could tell it was more playful, “we got orders waiting to be delivered.”

“On my way!” He saluted to no one and hung up. “Alright! Let���s get a move on!”

‘Make sure to add the cohesive before the mixing,’ the voice silently thought to himself.

“It would be so easy just to make that jump, hell my youngest kit sister can make that and she’s not even a month old,” a voice bragged.

‘Combine the Feins roots with the Elia petals first to dilute the solution.’

“All I’m saying is that if you try to jump off the cliff of perils then I sure as hell am not catching you,” another voice deadpanned.

“Nahhh I would be fine.”

‘…dice the Oran berries and Pecha then add when the next stage is ready.’

“If you count being splattered into tiny little pieces fine, then, by all means, go ahead,” another voice sighed.

‘Make sure that the color is a deep orange hue and not dark yellow, that can-,’

“Ye o little faith.”

“No, you are of little sanity. Even my younger gremlins know better,” she shot back.

‘That can easily violate the substance,’

“But they don’t have the certain skills like I do,” they bragged.

‘…leading to a-,’

“It still wouldn’t be a wise thing to do,” a deep voice pointed out.

‘Leads to a-,’ his vial cracked in his hands as he was once again interrupted.

“No, but it would be fun-.”

“I swear,” everyone turned to face the irritated monkey, “to all things good in this world and the next, if you dumbasses don’t shut the fuck up in the next five seconds I will make the Piñata fiasco at the Boiling Isles look like a god damn nap compared to what I’m gonna do to you.”

“Sorry, were we disturbing you,” Yanyu cheekily said.

“You little-”

“Awwww I’m soo sorry,” Daiyu mocked.

“I swear-”

“We didn’t mean to interrupt your monologue,” Minsheng smirked, “you know it kinda reminds me of Flicker when you do that.”

“That’s it!” He slammed down his ingredients, opened his drawers, and took out a roll of duct tape, “come here you little bastards!” He yelled out as he began to chase down the three annoyances.

“Same as usual,” Bohai sighed as he drank his tea.

“One would think not to mess with Mac when he’s like this,” Ahmed commented.

“Especially when he’s in his mood.”

“Especially that.”

“Now shut it,” he proudly said as he sat on top of his third victim.

“Hey hey!” Daiyu struggled to break free, “we were trying to lighten your mood fuzzball.”

“By annoying the shit out of me,” he growled as he taped her beak shut. “Fat chance, anyone else,” he looks over to his other two remaking friends.

“I say nothing,” the jellyfish put his tentacles up in surrender.

“While they may have been a bit well-,”

“Fucking annoying,” the monkey bluntly said.

“Yes that, they did have a purpose to their madness,” the lion pointed out.

“What? What could they possibly want badly enough to annoy the absolute fuck out of me?!”

“You have empty bird nest syndrome.”

“…what?”

“I said-”

“I heard you the first time!” Macaque interrupted, “I do not have that! I am use to MK not being home day to day, so why the hell would you thi-,”

“For days,” Yanyu said once she ripped the tape off her mouth, “but not for longer than a week.”

“Same difference!”

“Nah pal it ain’t,” the bunny demon said as they chewed on their own tape, “I can see it as bright as day, you have been extra moody and hella sad these past couple of days. It’s just like mum, whenever one decides to leave the warren, she gets all glum and broody for days.”

“I am not broody!” His tail swished violently.

“But you do miss him,” Ahmed stated.

“I don’t-”

“And it’s okay if you do.”

“I don’t miss him, I can visit anytime,” he stated.

“You still miss him being there, being next to you,” the lone human gave his ponytail a playful tug and sat next to Mac, who was still sitting on top of the tied-up vulture. “Take it from a big sister, when Shu moved out to live in the dorms I was so happy for him, but as time went on I noticed that I didn’t hear his off pitch singing in the afternoon nor did I hear his voice amongst my gremlins over who gets the last brownie. I didn’t miss him, hell I could video chat with him anytime, but I missed his presence, you know.”

Macaque just gave her a hard look before sighing, “He used to hum to himself whenever he was bored,” he admitted as he got off his friend and slumped down next to her.

Yanyu just patted his shoulder as he continued.

“I know I can just visit him, but my kid is growing up, he’s learning to stand on his own and he should have his own life separate from me.”

“Yeah imma stop you there,” Sheng rolled his eyes, “you are being one over dramatic monkey right now if you think that just because he’s doing his own thing, doesn’t mean that he doesn't have time for you. Hell, you are the one demon he will always have time for no matter what.”

“But-”

“Ain’t no buts about it fuzzbrain,” Daiyu squawked out once she feared the tape off, “your hatching adores the shit out of you and if you don’t think he won’t spend time with you then you are dead wrong.”

“He should have that time to himself, he is just starting out all on his own…without me…,” he slumped in depression, but quickly shot up due to a shocking touch, “OW! FUCKING WHY BOHAI!”

“You're being an idiot,” he smugly said as he lowered his tendril.

“Thanks,” Yanyu nodded to him, “and he’s right. I know that this whole thing won’t end with this so here’s what we’re gonna do. The six of us are going to go to Qián city.”

“…why the fuck are we going to the underwater city of Shanghai?” He incredulously looked at her.

“Cause you seriously need to relax.”

“I don’t-”

“You spent most of your time in the garden or prepping medicine that you don’t need,” Ahmed calmly said as he cleaned up the mess that Mac made.

“…you may have a point, but I don’t really feel like I should leave, what if MK or Mei happens to call?” He said.

“Well one, I know damn well that your hearing exceeds that city's borders,” Sheng points out.

“Okay true.”

“And second, we have the beauty of phones, which allows people to fall from far away,” Yanyu slowly told him as if he was a child, “I taught you this in one of our first lessons.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he muttered, “but I don’t-”

“You either go willingly or Kit Kat over here is going to drag you,” she pointed to Ahmed.

“He wouldn’t-”

“I really would,” he had to stop a smile at the utter betrayal in the monkey's face.

“I could beat your ass again,” he grumbled.

“You very well could,” he agreed, “but then you would also have to go against everyone else and they will happily drag both you and me off.”

“Fine!” He throws his hand in the air.

“Got ‘em!” Sheng high-fived Yanyu.

“Told you he would cave in eventually,” the vulture grinned.

“But we are going there to strictly relax, that means no explosions, arsons, paralyzing, hacking, or prison riots.”

“What about stealing and graffitiing,” the bluenette raised her hand.

“If there assholes, be my fucking guest, but your ass better not get caught.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be more stealthy than sneaking into the police hub to get rid of the evidence,” she cockily stated.

“What?”

“What.”

“…you know what the less I know the better.”

“Good choice, so let’s get packing!” She excitedly said as she, Daiyu, Minsheng, and Bohai exited the infirmary.

“So are you gonna tell them that the game dealers there are more than likely to scam them before or after they get robbed?” Ahmed curiously asked.

“After, they need a lesson on not annoying the fuck out of me when I’m working,” he gave a mischievous grin.

“Quite rude of you,” he grinned.

“But you're smiling too.”

Ahmed chuckled lightly as the two left the infirmary.

It was a quiet day at the restaurant, the dinner rush had just ended and all that was really left to do was wait for the store to close and clean up what’s left. The only customers inside were Mei and Tang, both of whom have long since finished eating and are currently just chatting, or laying down, with MK over the counter.

“So how’re your online classes treating you?” Mei asked.

“Great!” He perked up as he took his eyes off the creepy butterfly in the corner of the restaurant, “I’m just about finished with my general study.”

“Ooo, does that mean you finally have a major in mind,” Mei leaned in.

“No I do not.” He cheerfully stated.

All of them, including Pigsy who was listening in, facepalmed.

“Mkkk,” the nineteen year old groaned.

“I knowww,” he slumped down, “but it’s hard deciding what to do for the rest of your life.”

“Well that is okay,” the historian softly said, “you're still young, you have your whole life ahead of you. Besides, college is not for everyone.”

“Yeahhh, so how’re your classes going Mei Mei?” MK turned to his friend, “I know you been taking some of the engineering courses.”

“Ugghhh, don’t get me started,” she slumped down in her seat, “I love it, but that is seriously kicking my ass right now. If I didn’t like to make sweet ass rides then I would have totally just dropped it.”

“Let me guess, for racing,” MK said as he sprayed down the counter.

“Duh, I’m gonna be so fast that when they're only halfway, I've already passed that finish line baby!” Mei screamed.

“Shhhhh,” Tang hushed as he held his head against the cool counter, “not so loud please.”

“You okay there Tang?” Pigsy asked as he moved closer to his friend, “you’ve been like that ever since you got in.”

“Yeah, it’s just this headache has been killing me and my usual medicine isn’t doing a thing,” sighed as he leaned into the warm hand touching his head.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a fever at least,” the pig mutters.

“Do you have any coughing, sneezing, nausea, or any other symptoms?” MK curiously asked as he sat up.

“I have been feeling a bit nauseous,” he murmured.

“Sharp ringing in your ears on and off?”

“Yesss,” he groaned out.

“Hmm hold on,” MK quickly went upstairs, everyone heard faint shuffling noises before he came back down as fast as he was carrying a small baggie, “Can I use your stove and teapot?”

“Go right ahead,” Pigsy agreed.

MK gave a quick smile and they all watched him make a pot of tea, but instead of teabags, he added some of the plants that were inside the bag.

“Here you go,” MK presented the tea to the historian once it was done.

Tang hesitated for a moment before accepting the cup, “…what is it?”

“Medicine. Drink,” he gave him a wide-eyed look.

“...alright,” he shrugged his shoulders and joked, “if this kills me, just burn my corpse.”

“Drink,” MK commanded once more.

Tang drank his tea instead of retorting back and his eyes widen at the taste of it.

“Are ya dead?” Mei asked.

“Feel the poison seeping in,” the pig demon joked.

“This is really good,” he complimented MK and he began to drink more.

“Thanks, it’s Dad’s special recipe diluted when it comes to dealing with migraines,” he happily announced.

“Diluted? I can already feel my migraine already going away, how bad is his if this is diluted?” Tang asked with much concern.

MK grimace as he shared a look with Mei. He can’t help the memories all filtering in of his father lying in bed clutching onto the headphones as it tightly covered all six of his ears. There is never a pattern to when this happens, but he knew to keep a pot of tea hot and a bowl of mango or other non-citrusy fruit available on those days.

“It’s pretty bad,” was all he said.

“Oh,” both adults shared a look before Tang put on a grin as he slurped down his tea, “well this really works, what in it?”

“It’s Feverfew Tea with some Pika berries,” said MK.

“I’ve heard of Feverfew, but I don’t think Pika rings a bell,” Pigsy hummed totally missing Mei’s shocked face.

“Why I never-,”

“No, it’s not pokemon,” MK quickly shut that down before she got to her rant.

‘’Awww,” she deflated.

“It’s from Kunlun peak.”

Tang immediately choked on his tea, “AK! Did you just say Kunlun peak!”

“Yep!”

“What’s so special about that,” she glumly asks.

“Mount Kunlun is known to be a mythical mountain that hikers and historians have been searching for centuries,” Tang began, “It’s said to hold both mythical animals and plants, each having extraordinary potential within them as even the Gods from above go down there for certain herbs and items needed for their potions. It just lays there on top of the highest peak, but no person nor demon has ever had a straight map leading there and you’re telling me your Dad, Macaque, went there?!”

“He goes there a few times a year,” the teenager proudly says.

He looks down at his tea with sparkles in his eyes, “I’m drinking magic tea made from the legendary mountain,” he gave a big slurp as he inhaled it and stood up.

Pigsy eyed the drink, neither teenager knew if it was in envy or jealousy.

“But I’m impressed MK,” Mei playfully punched his shoulder, “look at you being all smart about medicine.”

“Well I hear Dad mutter on and on about different types of herbs and their properties on a day to day basis, that it eventually gets stuck in my head you know,” he joked then he paused as an interesting thought occurred to him, “wait a moment.”

They all watch MK have a silent conversation to himself, complete with waving hands, multiple facial expressions, draw a few sketches on his notepad, and finish with a final glow of his eyes as he leaped up in the air.

“That’s it!”

“What’s it?” The owner said.

“Why didn’t I think of this before!”

“Think of what before?” The historian asked.

“It was seriously in front of me this entire time!”

“MK, I swear if you don’t tell us what’s up right now I am not liable to my next actions,” Mei threatened.

“I can be a Doctor!” He leaned forward in excitement, “or at least something along those lines!”

“You can be pop’s assistant!” Mei started to get excited alongside him, “how the hell did I not think of it either?!”

“I don’t know!”

“It does suit you,” the demon agreed. He knows the kid is smart, he has seen his grades, so it’s not far fetched to assume that he can do this rigorous task. “Hope you have good study habits, I know mines was absolute garbage back in school.”

“With notecards and all,” MK hates studying, his brain goes brrr during those times, but he can’t thank Yanyu and Bohai enough for teaching him different tricks to help keep focus. “Now I’m thinking maybe of being a pharmacist, cause I don’t think I do well with surgery.”

“There are also the ones who diagnose the disease using the X-ray thingie,” she snapped her finger as she tried to remember.

“Radiologist,” Tang called out.

“Yeah that!” She pointed to him.

“Ooo that also sounds interesting,” MK and Mei continued their animated talk as both adults watched.

“It’s nice to see them so happy,” the noodle lover let out a content smile as he drank some more of his tea.

“I hear that,” Pigsy then looked at the man cup in confusion, “by the way you’ve been drinking, I thought you would have already been finished by now.”

“With my first cup yes, I’m on my third one now.”

“How in the-I didn’t even see you leave this area!”

“Magic tea is magic,” was all Tang said.

Pigsy exploded, “That doesn’t explain shit!”

“Well too bad,” he gave a loud slurp once more.

SLURPPP

“You know what, two can play that game,” the human was confused when the pig demon got up and left the room. He was no longer confused as he came back with a cup of tea in hand.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tang threatened the pig.

The pig looked him straight in the eye and, with a sly smirk, drank down the tea.

SLURRPP

“You heathen!” He shrieked as he banged his hands on the counter and stood up, “how dare you drink my magic tea!”

“Well next time don’t be rude as fuck!” He shot back and got in his face as well.

“That’s rich coming from you!”

“Says the freeloader!”

“Oh here we go again! You know, if you wanted some tea you could have asked!”

“My stove, my cups, my pot, mine.”

“But it was made for me!”

“Yeah well-wait hold up, you feel better right,” Pigsy dropped his screaming as he softly asked his friend, “no drill pounding in your head?”

“Yeah I’m fine now, it really does work miracles,” Tang also lowered his voice.

“That’s good.”

“…they really do act like an old married couple,” Mei announces, MK facepalmed as both adults separated from each other and yelled.

“WE ARE NOT!”

“I’m really sorry about such short notice,” the panda bear demon on call apologized once more to Macaque as he was quickly gathering his ingredients.

“Don’t apologize, shit like this happens,” he waved him off, “I’ll take me a couple of days, a week at max, but I’ll be there before the poison reaches its peak.”

“Thank you,” the panda bowed to him.

“Make sure to store away any semblance of caffeine, alcohol, or anything high in potassium, those are the fastest ways to speed up the process,” he instructed him.

“I’ve been meaning to take away Mink coffee stash, now I have a reason,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Will do bossman,” he hung up the call and called another number as he continued to pack. Once it picked up he put a smile on his face, “Hey Comet, how’s it going?”

“Good!” The twenty year old happily responded. “You wouldn’t believe it, but the classes are actually kinda easy to understand. They’re still tricky, especially the tests, but Yanyu was right about you teaching this. It made almost all my classes so much easier thanks to you.”

“Aww, that’s another one for my ego,” he joked then he put on a more serious tone, “but I didn’t just call you here for a chat kiddo.”

“Why what’s up? Is there something wrong?” MK suddenly asked as he leaned in, “Do I have to get Mei here and help kick some asses?!”

“Snrk, no nothing like that,” he let out a snort, “you know Po right?”

“Yeah, he’s the panda demon who comes in to get pain relief, muscle relaxants, and other types of medicine for his students? Does this have something to do with him?”

“Close, his disciples messed up big time and accidentally inhaled a bunch of toxic fog when they faced off against an elephant demon.”

“How can an elephant make poison?” MK questioned.

“Magic can do the weirdest of things, I mean I’m a monkey that can do shadow magic,” he pointed out.

“True, okay so he’s gonna come over to pick up the antidote? I don’t see what’s the big problem?”

“Here’s the bad part, Po can’t make a round trip, cause the time he gets back, all of his students…might not be alive,” he gently told him.

“…oh, so what’s gonna happen?”

“Well, I’m going to have to make a house call, which means I'm gonna have to go away for a bit and it’s pretty far, so I won’t be able to hear you.”

“…okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay!” MK gave a big grin to him, “Don’t you worry bout a thing! I’m an adult now Dad, I will be just fine!”

“You have grown up,” he gave a gentle smile, “I’m glad to hear that, but remember to call if there’s any trouble. I may be far, but I will come running if you need it.”

“I will! Now finish packing and save some lives!”

“I will, I’ll see you in two weeks shooting star.”

“See ya later old man!”

Macaque hung up the call with a smile as he resumed his packing. He wished he could have hugged his kid goodbye, but he was in a time crunch as he zipped everything up and quickly jumped out of the treehouse and began to move within the shadows of the trees.

He really does love his shadow powers during these times.

“Duh du Duh,” MK hummed out as he danced his way over to the food delivery destination with the headphones blaring in his ears. He then lifted it to call out the order name when he heard a silky voice interrupt.

“It feels like I waited for an eternity for this moment, is everything in order?”

“Just making the final adjustment mother,” another voice replied and this is when he opened his eyes to see that this was no ordinary food order as an ominous group stood before him.

“Nope,” he immediately whispered as he silently jetted off to hide behind a pile of rocks, but he peaked his head carefully out to see and his eyes widened.

“Finally after all this time,” the woman continued.

‘No way.’

“We have the means to lift Monkey King staff.”

‘It is!’

Standing before them all, wrapped in vibrant viridian vines and burrowed underneath a garden left untouched by the destruction laid around it, was the legendary Monkey King staff.

Things were about to get interesting.

No joke, the delivery scene with the lady is something I had to experience before. There are people who truly treat food workers lower than dirt, which is stupid to me cause why would you disrespect the people making your food? It’s like insulting the people who manage your money.

[chibi-pix]

Hey guys!  I felt it was a good idea. I want to share photos and a bit about the cats I have. Some are at home (Mama’s place), some at my Grandpa’s place.  So, how about it?  Time to introduce the cats!

Name: Soot Age: assumed 6 or 7 years (adopted three or four years ago) Location: Home Skills: Pissing people and cats off while being adorable. Occupation: professional asshole Likes: Yogurt, Pop Tarts, hiding under my dresses, chasing the ladies, and horror video games. Dislikes: Kisses, vacuum cleaners, my singing Extra: Soot has no understanding of my personal space. Under my skirt, across my chest, trying to get into my yogurt, you name it. He loves snacks, especially smoothies made with milk, yogurt, and frozen strawberries. He does not show signs of lactose intolerance. When we adopted him, he was so scrawny. Now he’s a chonk. He may be a smidgen overweight, but he’s happy. 

Name: Christmas Age: maybe 17? (Adopted three or four years ago) Location: Home Skills: healing purrs Occupation: Polite old lady Likes: Snuggles, giving her own cat scans, making my leg go numb Dislikes: someone trying to clean her butt, someone getting the mats out of her fur, me not paying attention to her Extra: She’s an older lady. She’s a bit sore with her age and maybe weight; she struggles to move, but she always comes to sit on my lap or shoulder for love. Her purrs are comforting and helps with my headaches. With her age, she doesn’t groom herself like she used to, so she gets mats. Mama and I have to team up to get them out.

Name: Bandit Age: possibly 17? (She’s Christmas’ sister and adopted with her) Location: Home Skills: telling time without a clock Occupation: Judging others

Likes: treats, catnip, the laser pointer, calling for the manager Dislikes: being picked up, being pet too much, me being one minute late giving her her treats Extra: She’s always silently judging others. Me singing? Judgment. Another cat licking a bag? Judgment. The videos I watch? Judgment. My sneeze? She’s damning me to hell, I’m sure. However, she is kind and caring, If I’m not feeling well, she’ll let me rest longer. 

Name: Baby Boo (Baby) Age: maybe 14 or 15? (Adopted three or four years ago) Location: Home Skills: Summoning demons from the dark pits of hell and turning invisible in the shadows Occupation: witch’s familiar Likes: lurking in the shadows, being pet, sitting on her tower and watching over the peasants, yogurt (but she is lactose intolerant, so I don’t let her have any) Dislikes: demons not obeying her, when the Hellgate suddenly opens up while she’s enjoying a snack and it interrupts her, dancing, and Soot. Poor Soot.  Extra: This is the cat of a witch and I’m pretty sure while she appears to be in her teens, she’s actually the ancient spirit of a scorned witched, cursed to live out her eternal life in the form of a cat, watching over witchlings and commanding legions of demons. She is also the one most likely to kill me in my sleep, but she doesn’t because I’m her person. Thank you, Baby. You make me a proud witch.

Name: Cimmaron (Cim) Age: 11 or 12 (adopted on a farm when he was a year old) Location: Grandpa’s Skills: being cute Occupation: executive art supervisor Likes: sitting with me while writing or drawing, trying to wake up Grandpa, milk from cereal, gravy from beef stew Dislikes: showers (not that I force him) Extra: Cim is a wholesome lad. He likes to chill and see what’s up. He tends to follow me around when he’s not spending hours sleeping on mine or Grandpa’s bed. He accompanies me for my showers, keeping an eye on me.  He was most likely reincarnated and therefore has the soul of a gentle old man.

Name: Buffy Age: seven (adopted when he was about a year old) Location: Grandpa’s Skills: sleeping Occupation: horny freeloader Likes: reminding the dogs who are about fifty pounds each that he was there first, boiled chicken, yelling for attention and then snubbing those who are willing to pet him, Voltron: Legendary Defender Dislikes: being picked up Extra: This freeloader doesn’t contribute. He caught one mouse when he was a year and a half old and that was it. He tends to jump up on my bed to cuddle one of the dogs and watch cartoons with me. He knocked up another cat that my grandparents adopted.

Name: Horatio (H) Age: about 6 (born at the house; Buffy is the father) Location: Grandpa’s Skills: sleeping, eating, and screaming Occupation: screaming freeloader Likes: food. Cat food, chicken, bacon, apple pie, toast, anything he can get to. Dislikes: being picked up, my sister Extra: This guy. He is an absolute chonk. We know he is. But he won’t exercise for anything and when we try to feed the other cats, he shows up wanting food, too. He’ll scream whenever he sees fit and when someone would check on him, he just walks away. He also likes to lay across an entire step on the stairway. Asshole. But cute. His three sisters were adopted by a nurse who took care of my grandma. He’s now an only child pretty much and he sure tries to remind us of that and tries to get us to spoil him. Also, while he loves toast, we do not give him toast. We have birds who have plain wheat toast with their breakfast; one of them dropped a piece and before one of the dogs could get it, Horatio laid down with it and started eating it.

Bonus of Buffy and Horatio.

Name: Foreigner Age: Unknown (stray) Location: Grandpa’s Skills: existing Occupation: supervisor Likes: Walks with grandpa, keeping an eye on Grandpa when he’s working in the yard, sleeping in my chair, chasing after my feet Dislikes: Other cats and dogs invading his space, Ink (another cat) Extra: He just showed up out of nowhere, as cats tend to do out in the country. He was skittish at first, but he warmed up to Grandpa very quickly. Now he’s just part of the family. He is not allowed in the house because he doesn’t get along with the indoor lads and Grandpa’s got a bird. Foreigner also supervises when the horses get out, making sure we’re all okay and can get them back.

Name: Ink Age: unknown (stray) Location: Grandpa’s Skills: Hunting Occupation: Wanderer, professional barn protector Likes: catching mice and other pests on the farm, being admired, keeping his plans for world domination a secret, sunbathing, making cars stop on the road because he’s an idiot who plays in the street and thankfully cars don’t go through often Dislikes: Feriegner Extra: This is a cat with a plan. He was probably sent here from another planet or is a warlock in cat form, slowly observing others and planning to dominate the planet. He wanders off for days at a time, perhaps looking for weaknesses in the planet’s defenses. He’s done with everyone’s shit, but love and affection restores his faith in humanity.

And that is it. These are the lovely cats of my life.  I hope you all enjoyed meeting them.  Until next time. 

Editing to add Myst. She’s fictional, but she’s still a cat.

Name: Myst Age: eternal (created three years ago) Location: going back and forth between the spirit realm and the mortal plane Skills: can go through walls Occupation: existing Likes: sleeping on shoulders, chasing ghosts, people, sleeping on the computer Dislikes: holy water Extra: Myst is a spectral cat from an unknown location. She’s rather recognizable for her fairly transparent body and skull-like face. She floats, shifts size, can be a blob, is very expressive, and doesn’t shed fur. Of course, she sheds a sort of ecto-plasm and it’s hard to wash out. She’s a wholesome cat who likes attention. 

[houseof-lamentation]

Bold of u to assume I wouldn't wanna know everything about everyone

But lets just start with the reversed au, I like the sound of that... then again I like every au

🦂

alright so the reversed au... think tarot cards and their reversed meanings. (edit: here is the playlist for reversed oren)

in the mainverse, oren is raised by their mother (moira) and malachi is raised by their father (joseph). moira is a witch and she's very laid back a little flitty, very loving, very understanding, very sweet. joseph is a bible banger hardcore catholic who loves his sons very much, but is a little (a lottle) misguided. normally, oren is raised in a laidback, "make your own mistakes" way, and malachi is raised by the man who thinks you can pray away adhd.

the reversed au is the opposite. malachi is raised by their mother in a laidback, "make your own mistakes" way, and oren is raised by the man who thinks you can pray away defiance. oren is not happy. he butts heads with his father like crazy and it causes a BUNCH of problems for them both. he does things like dye his hair black to both rebel against his father AND make it so they look less alike. malachi looks like moira, oren looks like joseph. blah blah blah

here's the meat of the au:

malachi and oren are very, very different people in this au. malachi is much, much happier, but like i said, oren isn't. he actually starts beef with michael (yknow, the angel) when he's in church praying, and michael ends up lending him an ear. it has a lot to do with oren struggling with his faith and against his father & what he was raised to be

michael does protect oren to a degree, but he mostly just comes to him in dreams to antagonise oren. they butt heads essentially all oren's life, and then he ends up in the devildom, and michael keeps coming to him and they'll argue about faith and mistakes and blah blah blah.

originally, michael was competing with lucifer for oren's attention, but we've since decided that oren ends up in a "i can make you worse"/hate fuck kind of relationship with belphegor. they fall in love, of course, but only after they make each other angry and combative for a few weeks first.

the most recent thing is that when oren sleeps beside belphegor, michael is unable to come to him in dreams. as the demon of sloth, with his dream powers, belphegor manages to lock michael out of oren's dreams for awhile until michael breaks the magic simply because he's more powerful than belphegor. it's not on purpose, but just because belphie is protective and possessive of oren

i WILL put more info from my best friend, who really crafted this au, in a reblog so u have more info about michael & oren

for malachi, he's much freer, he's much more laidback and has a lot more confidence in himself. moira pays for her son (oren in the normal verse, malachi in this verse) to get various sigils and spells tattooed on them for everything from luck to protection. malachi and moira even have a matching tattoo they got for her 40th birthday or whatever.

malachi ends up with satan (instead of mammon) and they also have a very intense, burning relationship. they hit it off early on and it just goes and goes and goes. where we are right now (in my writing, at least), satan showed his demon form and accidentally cut malachi's arm. he didn't realise, malachi just got upset with him and started giving him the cold shoulder. mammon is crazy protective of malachi and is willing to get in fights with satan over it, despite malachi telling him it's fine and satan just wanting to apologise and fix things. very fun.

there's more details than just that, but i'd need specific questions to answer to remember half of it

[ceratonia-siliqua]

Heaven Is a City We’ve Been Priced Out Of (Ch 2)

AO3 Link 

Warnings: Possible triggers revolving around the idea of death and dying.

The knife in his lap was heavy but the man next to him was sweet. 

Bucky passed him a burger and fries, adjusted as he drove one handed out of the drive thru. The heat radiated through the wrapper, piping hot in a way only mom and pop burger joints ever seemed to achieve. Drool was pooling in his mouth as he carefully unwrapped the palm sized gift. Bucky stopped the car in the parking lot briefly to situated his own burger, foot still on the break, suggesting that he planned to eat while they drove. 

Peter was nervous but hid it as his teeth sunk into the burger. The paper crinkled and the bun greased his lips shiny. Juice squeezed out the sides, bubbling but contained as the bread soaked it up. The beef was tender but still maintained enough body to pull its own weight. The sour spiked note of the pickle and the slightly sweet harmony of the ketchup had a sigh slipping past his lips. As he pulled away, strands of cheese followed, keeping him connected. Licking his lips, he wiped away the mess but immediately dove in for more. Eyes slipping shut, he hummed as his first warm meal in months settled like a soft ember in his stomach, warmed up from the inside out. In his blissed out state, the eyes watching him went unnoticed, their normal daggers softened by the scene, allowing them to slip by. 

The burger disappeared quickly, the rest of the meal quick to follow suit. As Peter leaned back he took a deep breath. Food had been too scarce for too long, his stomach pushed at his lungs from the volume of the meal. It ached but he’d take it over the familiar knaw of hunger. The car had started moving once more at some point in his meal. He watched as the city bled to suburbs then farmland. Didn’t take more than a half an hour on the freeway to reach rural stretches. Was strange to think about all those bodies jammed into the tent city when so much land lay just outside. 

The drive was quiet, the hum of the radio tuned to a 40s channel filled the cab. Peter rolled the closed knife between his palms, mindless and simply needing to fidget. Nearly jumped out of his skin when Bucky spoke.

“Almost home.”

“Oh,” The sound quiet and just before he turned to look at Bucky. 

Bucky was handsome, it was hard not to stare and Peter was certainly doing so. The short beard, the long hair peeking out from under his cap. Strong jaw and a frame so large he made Peter look like a child in comparison. A part of him wanted to reach out and touch him, assure himself that Bucky was real, that this wasn’t a cruel dream. 

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Bucky didn’t take his eyes off the road. 

Peter wished he could sink into the seat, snapped his head forward and pretended he hadn’t been blatantly looking up the man next to him. “Yeah… just making sure you aren’t gonna vanish into thin air.” Bit his tongue, hard. 

Bucky was silent. Peter jumped when a hand gently touched his elbow. “I’m not going anywhere, darling.”

Peter ignored the safety of that phrase, the way it pulled at his ribs. It was too intimate, too much of a promise from someone he’d just met. He wanted to trust Bucky so badly. Knew that this drive could well be his last. At some point though… why not just let it happen? He was dying. He could feel it. His body moments away from vanishing into dust. At least here, if Bucky killed him he would have a full belly. He would have lived the last hours of his life with some shreds of tenderness. Easier to die fighting than to roll over and let his body waste away.

Even with the knife, Bucky could still hurt him. The man was a mountain and Peter a finch. Still, the knife was a promise. An oath. Maybe Peter was naïve for buying into it but he’d lived his life on faith too long to jump ship now. 

They pulled up to a farmhouse. Startlingly rustic and was hard to put with Bucky’s city attire and accent. It was dark, but he could make out soft russet siding, a roof traditional of the housing style in brown. It was charming, didn’t read as a murder den but then he doubted most of them did. 

He was pulled from his thoughts as Bucky stepped out of the car. 

“Need help gettin’ out?” Bucky leaned in through the open door way of the driver’s side. 

“I think I can manage.” It was harder for him to lower himself with the way his hip had been injured, it locked at a fairly shallow angle and sitting was more often a semi controlled fall unless he was on his knees first and then turned. Standing on the other hand was easier. There were still hiccups, his joints would creak and pop in protest but he would make it. Did make it as he braced himself on the door frame once he’d swung it open. The sound of Bucky’s door closing behind him and the crunch of gravel suggested Bucky was coming around. 

It was a moment he was left completely open. The knife was resting in his pocket so he could stand and his slowed rise left him vulnerable. Yet, Bucky came around and leaned on the door frame next to him, letting him take the time he needed. Didn’t touch him or pressure him in any form, and fuck, if it wasn’t just another point in Bucky’s favor. Too many times others would ignore his need for some level of independence. The things he could do, no matter how hard, were important to him. He may have needed Bucky’s help sitting but Bucky refraining from forcing his assistance on Peter was more than most would give him. 

Bucky walked behind Peter as they started towards the house, a nearby field of mint spicing the air. The house loomed, tall and dark. It promised something, whether it was good or something which would spell his end was uncertain. He stuck his hands in his pockets, ran his left one over the handle of the folded blade, had to take the right side railing in order to keep holding on to the knife. Bucky rounded in front of him once they were on the porch, unlocked the door and flipped on the lights as he went in. The honey toned lights made the door just welcoming enough to encourage Peter through. 

The interior of Bucky’s home gave off an energy that could only be described as sturdy. Everything from the armchair to the coffee table was made of solid oak and dark twisted iron. It made each piece look capable, like the mountain that used them was no more a burden than a feather. The walls were covered in a cream colored wallpaper, their edges not quite laid correctly and overlapping. It was endearing, suggested that it had been done by an occupant rather than a professional, a personal touch. 

“The shower is down that hallway, second door on the left. I’ll bring you some fresh clothes just leave yours outside the door.” Bucky pointed to a hallway that ran off to the right towards the middle of the room, separated the living room and what appeared to be a small dining room. 

“Okay,” A hint of uncertainty leaking into his tone as he turned down the dark hall, almost jumped when the light turned on. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Bucky’s arm disappearing behind the wall, presumably having turned on the light for him. Peter caught himself smiling at the detail. 

The bathroom was painted a rich chocolate brown, it felt homely and warm and Peter honestly loved it. The clawfoot tub called his name, he could see himself spending a lazy fall night in it. Was quick to shunt that idea out of his head, reminded himself that this was temporary and only for the night. He was only supposed to shower, not dirty the white porcelain. He ignored the tub and went about figuring out the shower. The two knobs were unlabeled, worn away by time and use. It took nearly burning himself to figure out which was which. 

 Peter stripped himself bare, stared at the ratty jeans and the band t-shirt so faded that the design was nothing more than a shadow. Most embarrassing was his underwear. Plain blue boxer briefs with holes ripped below the elastic, so stretched out that it barely stayed on his hips. There was a large stain on the front, an old blood patch from when a man had been beaten and Peter’s desperate attempts to help ended with him covered in blood and most of his clothes taken as evidence by the police. His outfit was pitiful, no wonder Bucky had suggested a shower. Between the clothes and the layer of grime he must have looked like an orphan child from a Charles Dickens novel.

Being naked in a stranger’s house was nothing short of strange, even for something as innocent as a shower. That was until the shower washed away everything but positive, floaty thoughts and feelings. The stall had glass that had been fogged in such a way that it almost looked like a wall of opalescent stones, all carefully pieces together until no gaps remained. The tile was a shade of pink so light that Peter wasn’t quite sure it wasn’t merely a trick of the light. He felt near boneless under the spray and started to wonder if this is what a shower in heaven would look like. The hot water seemed to pull all the impurities, physical or not, from his body. Ushered them down the drain as black, torrid ink. 

The knock on the door was unwelcome but expected. Bucky let himself in. Peter watched as a black shadow moved just behind the door. Like an evil spirit, a demon, just beyond the gates of heaven. Or an angel arriving home. 

“I got you a pair of shorts and a tshirt. The shorts are too small for me. They’ll still probably be a bit big for you but at least you won’t drown in these. Plus the shirt will cover anything the shorts don’t catch,” Bucky broke the silence, shuffling around. “I’ll-“ Bucky fell quiet, something in the air… shifted. 

“What were you saying?” Peter pulled himself under the spray, trying to ward off the chilling aura.

“Peter,” The way Bucky said his name, it was painfully gentle. “Why is there blood on your clothes?” A barely contained bite to the edge of the comment, still sharp but not cutting. 

Peter feared Bucky believed him to be harming others, didn’t know how to explain that body fluids, blood and urine especially, were common on the streets. “The big one on my underwear is from trying to help someone who was injured. It happened about a year ago.” Hoped that was enough, didn’t want to relive that moment.

It was as if the very house itself sighed. As quickly as the tension came it fled. Ran to opposite corners of the house and out windows, through walls. Peter didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath.

“That's fine then. I was worried you’d gotten hurt. I’ll get you some boxers.” 

“Oh you don’t have to-“ Bucky was already gone. Left Peter to shower a minute more before he returned and left the boxers without much fanfare. Once again Peter was left to his own devices. He finished off by scrubbing out his hair, used a small amount no bigger than a quarter of the shampoo and conditioner. Wondered if his curls would come in full force now that they weren’t weighed down by dirt and oil. 

He turned the water off and toweled down as best he could. He picked up the boxers, just a simple black pair that was certainly too big for him but the elastic had a shot of at least holding onto his bony hips. He’d worn other people’s clothes before but not their underwear. It was clearly clean, but some part of his brain kept pinging that detail. It was either this or going commando though and Peter was far more opposed to the latter. He put them on along with the shorts and shirt. The shorts reached down to his calves and needed to be tied up snug to stay on but they worked. The shirt was a plain black and fell just above his knees. It forced Peter once again to acknowledge the vast size difference between them. Peter was having a hard time believing just how big Bucky was. He could see it clearly with his own two eyes and it still didn’t seem like it was possible for someone to be as tall and densely muscled as Bucky. Bucky’s body wasn’t for show, it was built for strength. His muscles weren’t disproportionate and veiny like a body builder’s. Instead, he came off more as a wall, sturdy and capable.

His old clothes were gone, swept away and likely beyond salvaging. He hoped Bucky sent him off with something to cover up with tomorrow before taking him back to the city. He was about to leave the bathroom when he noticed the obsidian knife resting on the counter. Bucky had removed it from his pants and set it back out for him. Peter picked it up, amazed by the dedication to trying to make Peter feel safe. His only defense could have easily been swept away without him noticing or thinking about it until it was too late. He almost wanted to leave it behind, show Bucky he trusted hi-

A knock at the door. “Peter, I’m making hot cocoa, want some?” Slightly muffled by the slab of wood between them. 

Peter opened the door wide. Taken aback by the tender look Bucky gives him. Watched it fall back to something more neutral, friendly. Stuttered as he spoke. “I-uh yea-, sure.” God, he hoped he could sink into the floor. 

Bucky smiled, affection already having found a home in the looks he gave Peter. “Alright sweetheart, follow me and we’ll whip something up.”

Peter obeyed, the knife forgotten as he was drawn away by Bucky’s gentle demeanor. The kitchen Bucky took him to was new. All the appliances were up to date, cabinets still holding the sheen of new paint, new tile and countertops. It was modern compared to the usual set up for the style of house. A rack hung above an island that copper pots and pans hung from, chained to the ceiling by black iron hooks. The kitchen island was topped with wood, making it into a giant cutting board if one wished to use it that way. Two wooden stools were tucked under it. Bucky pulled one of them out for Peter to sit on as he went to the stove, a pot of steaming milk already resting there. There were two mugs set out filled with mix. One cup was bigger than the other, meant for hands much larger than Peter’s. Bucky poured the steaming milk into each, stuck a spoon in both and stirred. Just as Peter thought, Bucky took the larger mug. It looked normal in his hands, just another coffee mug. 

“Here you go, doll.” Bucky set the other one in front of him. 

“Thank you,” Peter took a sip, was surprised by how rich it was. Drank more, doing his best not to burn his mouth in the process. The whole cup gone in under a minute. 

Bucky chuckled, still nursing his own cup and pulling up the stool next to Peter. “Good?”

Peter let out a small gasp as he came up for air. Set the now empty cup on the island. “Really good. What brand was that?” 

Bucky hummed, sipped from his cup before answering. “I made the blend myself. Found most places didn’t make it the way I wanted it so I took matters into my own hands.”

“Wow, well you did a really good job. It was delicious.” 

He practically beamed. “Thank you, Peter.”

Peter nearly choked on his own spit, gave a few hardy coughs as Bucky reached over and thumped on his back. Felt dumb for it. Choked just because Bucky had said his name. 

“Don’t die on me now,” Teasing but concerned. “Like you alive a little too much for that.”

“I’m-” A round of coughs. “-okay.” He croaked out. 

“Mhm.” Bucky set his cup down and stood up. He took Peter’s mug to the sink, rinsed it, and filled it with water before handing it back to Peter. “Here.”

Peter took the water, sipped until the tingling passed and powered through the coughs that came in between. He was tired, didn’t know if it was the coughing or something else but he felt it now. Maybe it had been there for awhile, something he was just now noticing. 

“You look a bit tired.” 

He nodded, rubbed one eye and shook his head out like a dog, trying to ward off the sensation. 

“Why don’t we get you set up in the guest bedroom.” Bucky stood up. “Follow me.” Bucky abandoned his cup as he started walking. Peter slipped off the stool and followed behind. 

The rest of the house felt… cool. Like a house with it’s blinds closed on a hot summer day. It was an opposite comfort to the way a warm house felt. The crisp chill made him feel comfortable in his skin, like it wasn’t drawn tight by heat and anxiety. 

Bucky led him up the stairs, was patient as Peter took his time getting up. It didn’t hurt but it was something he needed to take his time on. Once at the top he was guided down the stretch of hall. It was only four doors. All were closed except the bathroom, which Bucky pointed out as they went. At the end of the hallway were two doors next to each other, the small line of wall between them indented and creating a sort of ‘Y’ look. Bucky pointed to the door on the left. 

“That one is my room,” He switched to the door on the right. “That one is yours.” Reached out and opened the door to reveal a room painted a mid-toned blue. Deep blue curtains covered the windows and that same coolness was present in this room. The bed was a full size, had a cozy looking quilt all laid out across it. The quilt was a deep maroon, contrasting the color theme of the room. There was a nightstand with a lamp and a dresser off next to the window. The walls had pictures of the ocean on them. Peter was sensing a theme. 

“If you need anything just come get me. If you can’t get out of bed for some reason knock on the wall. I’ll be able to hear you since the rooms share the one the bed is against.”

“Okay, thank you Bucky.” Peter looked at him, tried to convey just how important, how meaningful this was through his gaze and simple words. 

“Of course, Peter.” One of those massive hands reached out towards him and cupped his cheek gently. Peter nearly crumbled into pieces. “Anything you need, anytime. Just say the word.”

Peter refused to tear up, gave one firm nod before Bucky pulled away to let him lay down. He wanted to follow, didn’t want Bucky to go but stayed where he was. Watched as Bucky disappeared, closing the door with a click!

He crawled into bed without much fanfare. Curled up under the covers and sighed as the long forgotten feeling of clean sheets slid across his skin, drawing him down into the lazy waves of sleep. Dreamed of grey eyes and trust and warm chocolate and longing. Got to experience more of those precious human comforts. 

In the end, it was nothing more than a precursory apology for what was to come as Peter woke up in a sea of his own unending vomit.

[buffyversefanfiction]

Tristan Tormented

Warning: I do not own the rights to the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, its spin-off series Angel, its dark horse comics continuation series, or any of the characters created by Joss Whedon and others in the Buffyverse. 15 years +, Mild to Strong Violence, Sexual References. F/F, F/M, M/M, Other +

Volume 8 - Shadow Self (Part Two)

PART ONE HERE

“All that I am saying is I do not see why Spike needs to come especially with Buffy on her way there is such a thing as too many people for a séance.” Angel complained to Faith as the two of them walked through a cemetery located somewhere within New York. “Spike knew Mandi and their friendship believe it or not is a lot less complicated than Tristan and Mandi’s so if it is her haunting Tristan my bet is on Spike convincing her to either lay off or crossover.” Faith explained to the brooding vampire. “Spike is needed for this little séance you and Buffy are here to be there for your kid.” “Is Willow coming too? I mean Buffy goes everywhere with her friends and having a witch during a séance makes sense.” Angel replied to her, giving in to the notion of having to soon play nice with Spike. “I doubt Dawn and Xander are going to be there with the baby and everything…but then again I doubted Spike would be there and hey presto.” “Calm down big guy,” Faith laughed at Angel’s jealousy with Spike. “Willow is not coming I told B it was better for her to come on her own so you and her could you know do whatever parents do with their kids that does not involve messing them up.” “And yet Spike still got an invite?” Angel moaned once more. “I get you and Spike have this beef over B and then there is some messed up shit with Dru that I do not even want to approach but you have both been fighting on the same side for a while now it is long overdue that you two stop being a pair of bitches and learn how to get along.” Faith told him straight. “The last thing Tristan needs right now is dad to be fighting with mum’s on/off lover over stupid shit!” “You are right.” Angel reluctantly admitted. “When did you become the voice of reason?” “I know, scary right?” Faith laughed. “New York’s been a good move for me so far…well until Dru made her little comeback anyways.” “Do you think it is Mandi that is haunting Tristan or something else?” Angel questioned her as the two stopped walking and stood still on the path. “Honestly, I think Mandi is gone and that’s the worst of this because if she is at least haunting him then Tristan has a chance of closure.” Faith replied to Angel. “But then on the sinister side ghosts are known for breaking windows but other than Tristan’s nightmares there has been no other signs of a haunting.” “Well he did not break the windows himself so if this séance is a bust then we take to the research I guess.” Angel answered her, “I hope for Tristan’s sake it is Mandi.” “Never did I think we’d be hoping for a haunting.” Faith said, as the two shared a laugh with each other. “I miss the good old days when it was just vampires and slayers.” Faith was glad Angel was in town despite their awkward attempt at becoming something more the two of them had always made good friends, in a way she was thankful for the fallout they had over a year ago as it led to the two of them finding their unique friendship once again, a friendship Faith valued deeply. Faith had always had a soft side for Angel and it was good to learn he did too but after their brief romance which was just a series of make out sessions she was glad to once again refer to him as a friend having never really been one for relationships, or maybe Faith had just not met someone she could imagine herself being all in for.

With the constant nightmares, the exploding windows and the shock arrival of his father Angel, Tristan Summers was more exhausted than he had ever been before but with the hope of a séance getting to the bottom of his recent ordeal Tristan decided to get some time to himself and ran a bath. Tristan never lasted long lying in the bath he had made for himself before he quickly found himself falling asleep despite trying his hardest to avoid it he couldn’t resist his exhaustion any longer and before long he had found himself fast asleep. As his eyes closed he found himself transported to standing in the garden of his family home in Riverborn, shocked to how he got there and uncertain of whether or not he was dreaming as he looked at his home noticing it looked lived in and abandoned like the last time he was there as he began walking towards the front door only to be left shocked as he reached the porch to find Drusilla opening the front door. “The demon inside you grows stronger by the day my darling boy.” She said as she walked over and gently raised her right hand to stroke Tristan’s right cheek softly. “You have been lost for a long time but soon you will find your real home…with me.” “No, you are wrong this is just some weird way of you messing with my mind again.” Tristan replied as he pulled away from the female vampire. “I will never be with you again unless that is me killing you.” “Silly boy if you wanted me dead you would have tried harder,” Drusilla laughed, revealing what Tristan already knew himself deep down. “Yes, you are mad, but I am the last bit of family you have, and mummy will always love you!” “You killed my friend!” Tristan snapped at her. “You and I both know I was not the only one to kill her.” Drusilla replied, adding more guilt to Tristan’s conscious. Before Tristan could reply to Drusilla he suddenly found himself in a dark cave within a blink of the eye, confused by how he had went from his family home to a cave so quickly as he looked around for any sign of Drusilla only to be met by nothing but empty space and shadows. He wanted to go towards the light and walk out of the cave but something inside him wanted to see where the cave led to and before long Tristan found himself walking further and further into the darkness until he found the first slayer stood in front of him. “You’re the first slayer I remember you from my last wacky dream.” Tristan greeted her. “Why are you here now?” “Be stronger than the monster inside!” Sineya warned Tristan, but before he could respond to her he felt a cold chill behind his shoulder which forced him awake, back in the bathroom of the apartment he shared in the bathroom, back in a now cold bath. “Well that was different,” Tristan stated as he looked around the bathroom. “At least there’s no broken windows this time.” “Hello friend,” A version of Mandi greeted Tristan as she appeared from out of thin air with jet black eyes, shocking Tristan by her presence. “Goodbye friend!” The twisted jet black eyed Mandi grabbed a hold of Tristan’s head and shoved his entire body under water with an unfamiliar superhuman strength as Tristan began struggling to come back up only to be met by Mandi’s cackling as she continued to drown the demonic slayer.

Buffy Summers stood in the alleyway outside of Rogue’s front doors hesitant to walk into the bar owned by her son and her former friend turned enemy turned friend again Faith, as she tried to prepare herself to go into mum mode. Now when it came to monster hunting, she was an expert, being a big sister she managed and she believed she was a good friend but when it came to being a mother she had little practice only having a few weeks with her new born baby before losing him to a portal to the past and she was more than nervous to take up her motherly duties once again. It did not help that her son seemed to be thick as thieves with Faith which added to Buffy’s fears knowing that Tristan could relate more to Faith than her, even Angel had one up on her in the department not to mention nobody exactly asked Buffy to come to L.A. to help Tristan’s redemption, although nobody told her not to either. Suddenly a loud screaming sound came from within the bar that Buffy instantly recognized as her son’s scream forcing her to face her fears and run into the bar as fast as she could, hearing his screams louder when inside the bar which were now matched with sounds of splashing. Buffy quickly jumped over the bar counter and ran into the backroom, rushing towards the stairs which she quickly charged up before reaching the bathroom door and kicking the locked door open with force shocked to see Tristan lying there in the bath looking completely traumatized but his head was now above water and as Buffy looked around the room she concluded he was alone. “Did a ghost try to drown you? They love drowning people, well not just ghosts actually vamps love it too but their a little better at it, especially The Master.” Buffy rambled to Tristan before receiving a non-amused look from her son. “I guess I should close the door and wait downstairs for you to get changed.” She could tell something had just happened that she had just stopped something from going any further but she could also tell her son was wet, naked and in need of getting changed and so she left him to it quickly closing the bathroom door behind her as she left Tristan alone in the bathroom once again. Whatever attacked him was clearly gone and so Buffy felt safe in leaving him to get himself ready before meeting her downstairs, saving him from whatever was tormenting him was an easy task for her, it was just another day as the slayer to her but she knew what would come next, what he needed from her, would prove to be her hardest job yet; being a mum.

After yet another near death experience Tristan had well and truly met his limit, he was done with all things supernatural, with always having to fight every single day and mostly he was done with being haunted by a friend who he believed had every right to torment him like he believed she was. He had spent so much time loving Lucas and then loving Dante that he never stopped to fully appreciate the kind of love he had with his best friend Mandi Jenkins, a girl who always had his back no matter what and even plunged forward into the darkness with him so he did not have to be alone. This loyalty did not go unpunished with Tristan choosing Dante and Drusilla over Mandi repeatedly before going on to kill Mandi’s boyfriend and yet Mandi was one of the biggest advocates for his redemption. The truth is he had given up on her and even himself a long time ago and yet she had never give up on him, her belief in him being what Tristan truly believed had left to her untimely death at the hands of Drusilla. “Why did you have to be such a good friend?” A now fully dressed Tristan mumbled to himself as he looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You deserved so much better than me!” Tristan continued to investigate his reflection, beginning to notice that his eyes kept changing from it’s normal color to jet black before he started blinking quicker and quicker hoping to see his eyes stay their normal color, growing more and more frustrated, leading him to punch the mirror with his right fist as his face went full vampire mode. “That is who you really are, you can keep trying to pretend you’re not a monster but deep down we both know better.” Dante stated as he appeared from out of thin air, shocking Tristan out of his vamp face, as he struggled to understand how his dead lover was suddenly standing right next to him. “You are not real you cannot be real!” Tristan replied, after managing to stumble up the courage to speak. “If you were going to haunt me you would never have waited so long…” “Oh, I am real I’m just not Dante it’s just easier to talk to you with a face you like.” The being displaying Dante’s body claimed. “You tried drowning me.” Tristan responded, admitting for the first time Mandi was not behind recent events. “You’re a vampire you cannot really drown,” The Dante imposter scoffed. “I just needed to get your attention.” “Why?” Tristan wondered, fearing the answer. “Go downstairs and find out for yourself.” The enigma replied before vanishing how he appeared, within a blink of an eye. It was in that very moment Tristan knew for a fact neither Mandi or any other ghost was haunting him, that Drusilla was right about her claims of the soul he now had being that of the demon’s, the shadow demon’s. He knew that the thing plaguing him was actually himself or rather something within himself and the only way to get rid of this plague was to face the ancient demon within, no matter it’s risk, the risk being the potential of losing his soul forever.

Buffy, Angel and Spike all sat at the counter of the bar on the stools within the Rogue’s bar as Faith stood behind the bar ready to begin a séance she did not fully believed needed to be performed but knew Tristan needed all of their company now more than ever. Buffy had informed them all about her bathroom break in with Tristan, how spooked her son looked by the time she had got to him and how there was no sign of anyone else, not that it would be the first time the slayer had encountered an invisible foe but it was the first time one plagued her son. Faith shared the nightmares she had witnessed Tristan waking up from, how he was convinced Mandi was haunting him and how deeply she feared that the demonic slayer was beginning to lose his mind at the hands of something, if not himself. Angel admitted to his worries about the son he shared with his first love Buffy but also admitted to the hopes that they could pull him through this, being somewhat confident after his recent father/son moment with Tristan. And as for Spike, he didn’t have much to add to the conversation, mostly avoiding the awkwardness of being around Buffy after their latest breakup and the general feuding he had with Angel lasting centuries long, while drinking the bottle of beers Faith had been handing him in order to keep him there. They talked about Tristan over and over while all trying to avoid any other topic of conversation; Faith wanting to avoid the Buffy, Angel and Spike love triangle that never went without it’s drama, Buffy wanting to stop herself admitting her jealousy over Faith’s bond with her son and Angel and Spike just wanting to avoid each other. “He has been up there a really long time!” Faith noticed, keeping the conversation on Tristan still, as she began to grow more worried for the demonic slayer. “Maybe one of us should go up there…” Buffy suggested, fearing being the one to check on her son but also fearing to stay alone with Angel and Spike. “I am more than willing…” Angel began to say, before being cut off. “I’ll go check!” Faith interrupted, not meaning to be rude but just being used to the one handling Tristan, her eagerness not going unnoticed by Buffy. Before long Faith found herself in the backroom of the bar and rushing up the stairs, shouting Tristan’s name repeatedly as she walked into the hallway of their shared apartment before noticing the bathroom door was left opened. She wasted no time into walking into the bathroom, already knowing deep down she wouldn’t find Tristan there only to find the broken mirror as evidence to her theory, concluding Tristan had left to god knows where, fearing if she did not act quick she may never see him again as she worried about what danger lay ahead for the demonic slayer. One thing Faith knew for certain wherever he was going spelled trouble and she was going to need Buffy, Spike and Angel’s best efforts to find Tristan in time and save him from whatever had left him so tormented.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[wheresmyletterhogwarts]

Ron Weasley-Yule Ball Part 1

Lol this is probably really bad but here we are! 

It’d been towards the end of third year. It seemed the friend group was falling apart around you, Ron blaming Hermione for Scabber’s disappearance, Harry upset Hermione had the Firebolt confiscated, and Hermione a bundle of stress every minute of the day. The tension had driven a wedge between almost all of you. But you and Ron stayed just the same. You even got closer, you thought. And that night, Ron had been hopelessly searching for Scabbers in the hallway when you stumbled upon him. His red hair was mussed all about his head and he wore an old sweater Molly had made him. Your heart nearly tugged out of your chest as he softly clicked his tongue, calling for the rat.  

“Find anything yet?” You asked.  

Ron nearly jumped from the floor, swearing, before looking up at you. It took a moment before he responded and he stood. “No.” He swiped the dust off his sleep pants. “I shouldn’t bother anymore, right?” He paused. You didn’t know if he wanted you to answer. You took a step forward. “Harry says I shouldn’t. It was just a dumb rat, after all.”

“He,” you emphasized as you walked closer to Ron, “was your only friend and you know it.” You smirked up at him—it was crazy how tall he’d gotten over the summer holidays—and he scoffed, a concealed smile barely visible in the dark. “You’ll find him, Ron.”

“Not if Hermione’s demon cat ate him.” You stiffened at that comment. Though Hermione had been almost avoiding the group completely, you weren’t exactly eager to jump into her fight with Ron.  

“Let’s keep looking,” you said. “We’ll look as long as we have to. Dumb pest has to be around here somewhere.” Ron chuckled a little and again, your heart performed some Olympic level flips in your chest. You scolded yourself, and dropped lower to the ground, calling for Scabbers. Ron would never admit it, he’d much sooner damn the rat to the deepest pits of hell, in fact, but he was rather attached to Scabbers. You’d seen him plenty of times sneaking him into class in one of his robe pockets, passing him bits of cheese and dried fruit he’d kept from meals. It must have been killing him to not know where the rat was, let alone if it was still alive.  

You both searched in silence for well over an hour. It was rather boring, but every time you almost went to leave your eyes found the red-headed boy crouched beside you. Through the darkness you could see the furrowed brows, lip trapped between his teeth, and anxious eyes. Even if you didn’t have the stubborn affection for the boy, you couldn’t have left him like that. Eventually though, Ron stopped. The two of you had shuffled through dozens of hallways, far from the Gryffindor dormitories, and if Filch and that cat found you, you’d have detention for the next month at least.  

Ron turned to you, rocking from his shins to sit back against the wall. You maneuvered next to him. Your shoulders pressed together and you could hear his uneven breathing.  

“We should go back.” He turned his head to face you and it suddenly hit you how close you two were.  

“You sure?” You asked. Just a moment before you’d cursed your lack of self-control for keeping you out this late, crawling around looking for a mangy rat. Now though, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness this time with Ron would end.  

He nodded. “We can look tomorrow.” He smiled a little, and though you knew he wasn’t at all happy you two hadn’t found the rat, your heart beat a little faster at the promise of more time searching with him.  

“Sounds great,” you smiled back at him.

The walk back to the dormitories was silent, not because you two had nothing to talk about, but because you knew that if Filch found you there would be no late-night rat hunts for a very long time. You wouldn’t give up the chance to do this again for the world. Finally, you’d reach the common room, and as you began to walk up the stairs to your room Ron called your name.  

You turned with your hand still on the railing, “yeah?”

“Uh, thank you.” He stood behind a couch, his hands fidgeting on the back of it. “Thanks for the help. It was um,” he paused and you could feel your heart beating fast against your ribs, “less worse with you there.”

“No problem.” You smiled at him and continued up the stairs.  

Less worse? That was neither grammatically correct or anything close to what you’d been secretly hoping to hear. A seed of disappointment had blossomed in you, but it was hardly enough to overcome the whole evening. Even if Ron only thought of you as a friend, which had already been clear and was reinforced by the goodbye, tonight was enough. It was enough. You kept repeating that as you walked up the stairs and it almost completely appeased the ache in your chest.  

Hermione had been awake when you reached the room, waiting for you, and with the glow of the evening mixed with the pang of “less worse” hanging around you, you poured out all the feelings you’d been subject to since meeting the ginger on the first day of school.  

That had been a little less than a year ago. And Ron had only gotten more attractive, more all-consuming, and more unattainable. You never got to search with Ron again, as he found Scabbers just the next day, and neither of you had ever brought the night up again. If Hermione hadn’t been awake that night, you were sure you would’ve been convinced it was all a dream by now.  

Hermione sat beside you, bent over a book as she murmured the words aloud to herself. She still hadn’t touched her plate and already you, Harry, and Ron had finished your last helpings. This wasn’t altogether unusual, however. You smiled as you watched Ron eye the roast beef dish in front of him. He was sure to go back for more.

“’Mione,” Harry stretched back in his chair, “eat something or your stomach will be growling all through potions.” The brunette tossed him a look and set back into her book. He turned to Ron and grumbled something about Snape docking Gryffindor if her stomach does growl in class. You chuckled to yourself and started stacking your dishes, a habit Hermione had tried to instill in basically the entire student body, to make the house elves’ jobs easier during cleanup. It’d only really stuck with you.  

Ron frowned at his plate. “I asked a Hufflepuff to the Yule Ball today.” Crap. Hermione tensed next to you, turning from her book for the smallest split second to gauge your reaction.  

“What does she look like?” Harry asked, sipping from his glass of pumpkin juice. Harry didn’t know about your very unfortunate liking for Ron. It was better that way, sometimes you even wished Hermione didn’t know. It’d be much easier to forget if she wasn’t always checking in about it.  

Ron shrugged. “Blonde, short. I don’t know, she was the first girl I saw in the hallway.” Charming.  

“So,” you swallowed the unreasonable amount of dread in your throat, “did she say yes?” You shouldn’t be this worked up about this. He asked a girl he probably doesn’t even know the name of. Somehow, though, that makes the pressure in your chest twist tighter. He’d ask a stranger and not you.

“No, she has a date already. Going with some other Hufflepuff, had a stupid name.”  

You absolutely hated the way relief flooded through you. You despised it. Here was your best friend, upset, albeit ridiculously, that he couldn’t find a date, and you were happy he’d been turned down. It was awful. But you still couldn’t find it in you to feel badly about it.  

It was later that night, sitting on Hermione’s bed and talking with her as she proof-read her essay for the fourth time, you voiced a thought you’d buried deep inside of your mind.  

“Everyone’s in such a fuss about the ball,” Hermione dashed her quill through an offending phrase. “About a dozen girls asked me if I had a date.” She huffed a little, rolling her eyes. “As if that’s any of their business.”

You weren’t really that upset about all the attention the ball was getting. You might even have been one of the girls Hermione was complaining about if you would be going with Ron.  

“Jokes on them,” you said to her. “They’ll be stuck slow-dancing with some guy while you and I raid the desert table.” You winked at her. It’d been a long-standing joke and plan, partly to distract yourself from who you really wanted to go with, and mostly because Hermione was your absolute best friend, that the two of you would go to the ball together and only eat food, avoiding boys and dancing altogether. So, you were surprised at the way her neck and cheeks flushed.

“Unfortunately, I think we might have to factor at least one dance with a boy into those plans,” Hermione said. It took you a moment, but when you understand what she meant you almost screamed.  

“Hermione! You have a date?”  

“Yes, I do,” she smiled slightly. It was just like Hermione, to be calm, cool, and collected in every situation. But the teenage girl in her showed through as she set her quill down and smiled softly at you, a blush warming her face. “Victor Krum asked me this morning.”  

You couldn’t contain your grin as you tackled Hermione in a hug. You didn’t think she’d be necessarily happy at that response, but you could hear her laugh as you pulled away. She was really happy. “Hermione that’s great.”

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised!” She was smirking. “You’ve no faith in my feminine abilities.”  

You laughed. “I must say, I’ll miss you at the desert table, but I think being able to live vicariously through you as you dance with your Durmstrang will make up for it.” You’d meant it as a joke, but Hermione’s smile wavered.  

“Have you been asked yet?”

You laughed a little. “Ron hasn’t exactly mentioned anything, no.”  

“Y/N, I mean by someone else.”  

“Well, Nick Raywood did. But I said no.”  

“Oh, Y/N, why?”

You paused. You knew why not, you’d run it over in your head a million times before, but you also knew Hermione wouldn’t understand. She was your best friend though, and she was waiting for an answer. “Well, Ron doesn’t have a date yet.” Hermione frowned. She knew where this was going. “And, maybe if he can’t find one, he’ll finally ask me.” She opened her mouth, about to cut in. “And I know, ‘Mione, I know that it wouldn’t be a date. We’d go as friends and just hang out with you and Harry and everyone else but I’m okay with that. It’s enough.” You paused, repeating it in your head before repeating it again, aloud. “It’s honestly enough for me.”

“That’s not enough and you know it,” she said. “Y/N, you deserve better than a guy who only thinks of you as a friend. You deserve love.”  

You can feel your stomach turn and you paste a smile to your face, a joking tone to your voice. “Hermione, we’re still in school it’s really not that serious.”  

“You know what I mean.” And you did. As usual, she had a point and that point was absolutely right. “Wouldn’t you rather go to the ball with a guy like Nick who actually wants to go with you?”

“Maybe,” I said.  

Hermione looked down at her deserted essay. “I think we’re going to have to talk about something a little less dramatic if I’m ever going to turn this in.” You both chuckled a little, neither one completely past the conversation yet, but by the end of the night you’d fallen asleep with a smile on your face.  

The next day Harry and Ron were still searching for dates. Naturally, that meant Ron still hadn’t asked you. Nick Raywood was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, laughing with some friends thoughout dinner and you couldn’t help but glance over at him a few times. Nick was attractive and nice. The type of guy that was always uplifting the people around him. When he’d asked you earlier that week, he’d smiled and complimented your hair. He was nice, he was cute, he was interested.

And Hermione had never been wrong before, had she?

Your mind was made up just as the boys and Hermione stood to leave.  

“You coming, Y/N?” Ron asked, looking down at you. Hermione quickly scolded him and stacked his dishes up.  

“Um,” you watched Nick’s friends begin to leave. Nick was still sitting, finishing his dinner. If you stayed, maybe you could catch him alone on his way out. Save yourself any embarrassment of being turned down in front of people. “No, I have to uh,” your eyes searched the room, looking for some sort of excuse. Your eyes landed on the twins. “I have to talk to Fred about something.” Harry and Ron lifted their eyebrows, but didn’t say much. It wasn’t at all unusual for you to talk to one or both of the twins, but it was strange for you to actually have a reason to talk to them. If Hermione knew why you were actually staying she didn’t say, but she quickly ushered the boys to the common room and you were thankful for that.  

You felt vaguely stalkerish waiting for Nick to finish eating. You tried not to completely stare at him, but as you were no longer hungry and almost all of the Gryffindors around you had left, you were left with little else to do.  

It felt like forever before you saw Nick begin to gather himself up. You almost laughed when he stacked his dishes—Hermione must have gotten to him too. Quickly, you began leaving too and were glad when the few friends Nick was leaving with turned to opposite way in the hallway.  

You moved up so that you were walking next to him. “Hi, Nick.” You smiled up at him. He was taller than Ron. A little too tall, if you were being honest.  

“Y/N!” He grinned back at you.

“Uh, where are you headed?”

“Ravenclaw common room.” He high-fived an older Ravenclaw in the hallway before turning back to you. It was slightly unnerving how he walked, facing you, and didn’t run into anyone.  

“Oh, me too,” you said.

“You’re going to the Ravenclaw common room?” He looked genuinely confused.  

“Crap, uh, no. I mean mine. Gryffindor.” He let out a solid laugh and you chuckled a little. Crap, this was awkward. But Hermione was right. You had to do this.

“Uh, Nick, I have a kind of weird question.”  

“Ask away.”

“Do you have a date yet to the Yule Ball?”

He slowed to a halt. “Well, no.” He chuckled almost silently.  

You shouldn’t have been so disappointed. That was stupid, you thought. “Oh, um, well would you still like to go with me?”

For the first time in all your years at Hogwarts you say Nick Raywood frown. It was a very strange sight. “I asked you earlier this week if you wanted to go with me. Why didn’t you say yes then?”

You didn’t like lying. It wasn’t something you ever were okay with doing and your head had already begun to ache from lying to Ron earlier. But you couldn’t exactly tell Nick that you wanted to go with him to get over the guy that would never ask you to the ball. So, you lie. “I just, I was really nervous. I, um, never expected you’d want to go with me.” He still didn’t look sold. “I thought it was a joke, to be honest.”  

His eyes softened and he turned to face you completely. “I’m really sorry you would think I would do that. But I’d love to go with you, Y/N.” The two of you sorted out details of when and where to meet before going to the ball, and when you parted, he left a kiss on your cheek that made your skin crawl with guilt.  

When you returned to the common room, you found Harry and Ron upset, and a missing Hermione.  

“What happened to you two?” You ask, dropping into the seat across from them.

Harry’s arms were crossed. “How am I supposed to lead in the first dance with no date?”  

“Maybe you shouldn’t have turned all those girls down,” you said. He shot you a look. Beside him, Ron is frowning at you. “Ron?”

He didn’t respond at first, just uncrossed his arms and tucked his hands beneath his legs. “Will you go to the ball with me, Y/N?”  

You’d pictured him saying those words a hundred times in the past week. You’d even expected those words a few times. “What?”

You hated how collected he was. How put together and at ease. Nothing about this was scary to him but he’d been shaking asking other girls. “Go to the ball with me. You don’t have a date, I don’t have a date. Just as friends.” A part of you had almost said yes. Screw Nick, screw Hermione’s advice! Because Ron finally asked you to the ball. But those last three words crushed you. And though you’d been reminding yourself all night that you didn’t want to go with a guy who didn’t feel the same way, you finally understood why you couldn’t go with Ron.  

You’re not sure how you do it because it takes every last ounce of strength and will power in you, but you shake your head. “No, Ron. I have a date.”  

You don’t remember what he says or what you say as you trail up the stairs. You also don’t remember if the cries you heard as you fell asleep were Hermione’s or yours. Maybe it was both.  

[ollifree]

Found an Inquisitor-as-Companions ask sheet so I’m filling these out for Kendra/Darrell in the multi protags au

1. If not for the Conclave, what would drive your character to join the Inquisition?

They both joined because they were at the Conclave and honestly? I can’t see them joining if they weren’t. Much like in the other worldstates were they aren’t Inquisitor, Mami Trevelyan got a firm lockdown on her children after the sky literally exploded. Oh wait, did I say they both joined because they were at the Conclave? That’s a lie. Darrell joined because he was at the Conclave. Kendra joined because Darrell did.

2. How would they meet the Inquisitor?

Kendra met her (Fanari Lavellan, I’m using my own Inquisitor but I’m writing this to fit any Inquisitor) first, in the same cutscene as Varric and Solas. Fanari chose to take the mountain path rather than go with the soldiers (and got her first Kendra Greatly Approves boost). Darrell was one of the soldiers stranded up on the mountain top.

3. What would some of their cutscenes look like?

One of the caveats of their cutscenes is that both of them are always present until Trespasser; at least at the start if not for the whole thing. During the first Trespasser scenes they’re apart because they’re having a spat about Darrell going to Tevinter with Dorian. (Kendra’s having a spat. Darrell’s having a headache.)

Their first cutscene (excluding their introductions) takes place in Haven. They’re found speaking with Josephine about the memorial being planned for those who died or went missing in the Conclave: a reading of names followed by lighting a pyre. Both are insisting that if the memorial’s ready to go but they’re out of Haven on Inquisition business, don’t stop on their account. Josephine starts to argue, but Fanari, out looking for Josephine to let her know her expertise is needed, interrupts. Kendra stalks off shortly after Josephine leaves.

Fanari asks Darrell what the argument was about. He tells her that he and Kendra weren’t the only Trevelyans at the Conclave, but they were the only ones to come out of it. “It’s been hard letting the family know, but it’s helped us. Going to the memorial would just be reopening the wounds, now.” Darrell turns the conversation on Fanari, asking if she wants something different to or happening with the pyre. Cutscene goes into approval/disapproval dialogue focused on faith and grief, with Darrell showing understanding to Fanari and approving of open-mindedness for people processing those things differently.

A follow-up conversation with Kendra can occur: also used as an approval dialogue. Hers is focused on the immediate fallout of the failed Conclave. Approval is gained by sympathizing with her but not pressing her on her personal losses, and her main concerns are shown to be for those not at the Conclave who had their lives upended by the Breach.

Their second cutscene takes place in Skyhold the first time speaking to one of them there before it’s restored. Fanari comments on not knowing which parts of the castle would be best suited to what. Kendra points at she and Darrell are noble, and can make a solid guess at whatever they’re not directly familiar with. They grab Cassandra and Dorian (for the same reasons) and the group sets off to explore. It’s used as an introductory tour of Skyhold for the player and as such enough time is spent in each area to inform them what will be there.

Kendra opens one door, goes in, and immediately leaves with a “Nope.” Darrell pokes his head into the room and declares it a broom closet, but advises they’ll want to get someone up here to take care of the spiders. There’s no dialogue tree for approval, but Fanari can gain some from both of them by making humorous suggestions for what areas the player decides (gardens, tower, courtyard) might be used for.

The third cutscene happens after Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. The Inquisitor walks up on the two as they’re discussing the outcome of the quest. Their reactions vary on which outcome happened (Celine died and Gaspard’s a puppet ruler to Briala in Fanari’s worldstate. Tragic) but generally Kendra’s content with any outcome while Darrell has concerns dependent on which leader’s in charge. More separate approval dialogue trees happen: Darrell gives approval by acknowledging his concerns and stating that for the time being the Inquisition can at least keep an eye on things; Kendra gives approval to an Inquisitor who also enjoyed The Game and comments on how Orlais’ leader can be used to the Inquisition’s benefit.

The fourth happens after Here Lies the Abyss. Both twins are rather subdued as Maria, one of the Hawke twins, remained behind in the Fade to make time for Fanari to escape after Gareth had already landed back in the physical world.  It’s a short scene, but the Inquisitor can get a Greatly Approves from each of them by saying “At least we’ve still got you two,” even if their reactions are still on the quiet side.

The fifth cutscene takes place after the Inquisitor drinks (or doesn’t drink) from the Well of Sorrows. Darrell excuses himself shortly after Fanari arrives. Kendra checks with her that she’s feeling okay after drinking from the Well. Kendra’s approval doesn’t dip in this conversation, and she reaffirms at the end of it that if Fanari starts feeling any effects to come find her.

An Inquisitor who drank from the Well can gain approval back from Darrell in his conversation by recognizing his worry and concerns for them. He ends the dialogue by confirming that he is worried for them first and foremost, but acknowledges that they were strapped for options at the time.

Both twins will ask Fanari about her reaction to the temple of Mythal, although no approval/disapproval is gained from how she answers. No, I don’t know how this goes for an Inquistor who didn’t drink from the Well. Write your own AU. For my characters.

Once both twins hit max approval a bonus cutscene is obtained. Fanari finds them out on the training ground in the courtyard sparring together with staves. Fanari asks why they don’t use the weapons out in the field. Darrell explains that they’re not much use against demons and mages, but it’s good to keep in shape. Cassandra approaches, curious about why they’re using Nevarran weapons. “Because we’re half Nevarran,” Darrell explains.

Cassandra stutters over this new information, because surely she’d know. Kendra points out a few facts for her: mainly that they’re the only two of the Inquisition who pronounce Cassandra’s name correctly (a subtle breath variation between syllables), their wording on a few phrases is a literal translation from the phrase in Nevarran, and neither of them eat beef. She drags Darrell back to training with a parting, “You’re a Seeker it’s your job to notice things.”

4. What would their romance route look like? Would they be romanceable?

Theoretically yes, both are romanceable by either gender. Fanari, however, is not romantically interested in humans.

5. If they romanced someone as Inquisitor, would they still fall for that person as a companion? How would that play out? How would they react to that person being romanced by the “new” Inquisitor?

They both do follow their romance paths with Iron Bull (Kendra) and Dorian (Darrell). They play out roughly in the same manner as they do when they’re Inquisitor. They’d both be sore over losing their prospective LIs to the Inquisitor if far enough along a romance path, but would recognize there’s bigger things to worry about.

6. Write some of their party banter.

Kendra

(On reaching the Crossroads in the Hinterlands for the first time) Kendra: Hm. Solas: Is something the matter, Lady Trevelyan? Kendra: I’m not sure if I was expecting things to be worse. Solas: We must do what we can.

Dorian: How many sisters do you have, Kendra? Kendra: Who’s asking? Dorian: Your brother was telling me his nose broke— Kendra: Oh, because of Cloud Dancer? That was me. Dorian: (laughter)

Vivienne: Are things well with your family, darling? Kendra: Well enough. Vivienne: I don’t mean to pry, dear. Just to remind you not all things are terrible. Kendra: ...Thanks.

Sera: Sun. Heat. Wind. Kendra: I’m too tired for lists. Sera: Grump.

Cole: (Darrell not in party) He misses you. Kendra: (grunt)

Kendra: I’ve heard you’re writing a book. Varric: Don’t get yourself into a tizzy. I know to keep my pen away from you.

(After Blackwall’s personal quest) Kendra: Welcome back. Blackwall: Oh. You’re speaking to me? Kendra: Long enough to tell you to stop coming to drink nights.

Iron Bull: Look at these footprints. (groan) They’re so tangled up I can’t tell how many there were. Kendra: At least a dozen. They straighten a little way out. Fanari: Do we know how recently they were here? Kendra: Rain fucks it up, but it can’t have been more than an hour. Iron Bull: They wanted this place bad. Might still be nearby. Darrell: (if in party) Well. I feel safe.

Cassandra: But, your family is so widespread there’s a Trevelyan in every Chantry. How can you not believe...? Kendra: Easier than getting you to shut up about it.

(Overheard when in the library after What Pride Had Wrought) Kendra: Have time for a question? Solas: Of course. Kendra: (hissed) Fuck’s wrong with you?

Darrell

Solas: This once was a place of learning for my people. Now even the ruins have turned to dust. Darrell: I’m sorry. Would it be possible to see it as it was? In your sleep, I mean? Solas: I think so. Our current task is more important, however.

Dorian: Sure, take Dorian along. It’s not like he hates the damp. Or the chill. Or the wildlife. Darrell: Would you have rather been kept back at camp? Dorian: It would be much more romantic to be weeping over a corpse than being wept over.

Darrell: Are you alright, Vivienne? Vivienne: Yes, thank you. Darrell: You’re sure? Vivinne: It will take more than an apostate to do me in, dear, but I am grateful for your concern.

Sera: You and Dorian, eh? Darrell: I think so. Sera: Good.

Darrell: I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say my thoughts, Cole. Cole: I do. Sometimes. But, right after, I have to stop. She doesn’t like me to hear her. Darrell: Hearing me...makes you hear her? Cole: Yes. You’re happy!

Varric: Mind if I ask your thoughts on some things? Historical books are better with different perspectives. Darrell: You’re doing a historical novel? Varric: Not a novel per-say. More a bibliographical. On all this. Darrell: Can I give you a warning? Varric: For what? Darrell: My sister might come for you just for including her name. Varric: Noted.

Blackwall: Impressive how you turn your blade into a shield when we fight. Darrell: Oh, thank you. Blackwall: That wears it out a bit faster, doesn’t it? Darrell: The blacksmiths know my name, yeah. Blackwall: I was thinking. If we fought closer together, I may be able to take an arm off before they can strike. Darrell: Depends on where you stand. Otherwise Kendra might hit you.

Iron Bull: You know, a few drinks might loosen you up a little. Why not join us next time? Darrell: When’s next time? Iron Bull: If we’re unlucky, back at Skyhold. Darrell: And if we’re lucky? Iron Bull: Next group we bust has a cask on ‘em. Darrell: (laughter)

Cassandra: I have heard one of your siblings was a templar? Darrell: Two were. A brother and a sister. Cassandra: Has there been any news since...? Darrell: No. Cassandra: I'm sorry.

(During Trespasser) Darrell: Did Kendra and I tell you we were in Kirkwall recently? Varric: No! Both of you at once? I’d have bet money! What’d you think? Darrell: Bit of a shithole. Kendra: (if in party) Bit of a shithole. Varric: (laughter) Bit of a shithole.

7. What would be on their tombstone in the Fade?

Darrell’s is drowning. “Oh because of the metaphor of being weighed down by responsibility and sinking into helplessness?” “No I literally cannot swim.”

Kendra’s is betrayal. Though, she hides it and says it’s spiders. Like the form the nightmares take for her, or the giant ones they kill every Thursday that she screams during.

(Fanari’s is loss. Loss of those important to her, loss of her identity to humans who will try to rewrite her in history, loss of her autonomy to being the figurehead of the Inquisition.)

8. What kind of Inquisitor would drive them to leave the Inquisition/confront them about their actions?

Both Kendra and Darrell would confront an Inquisitor whose underlying motivations are cruel. They can both understand the difficulty of making a hard decision and going with the unpopular option, but there’s a difference between doing it because it needs to be done and doing it to see someone suffer. Unlike the bonus cutscene, you’d only need one of them at minimal approval. The one would take the other with them. You either have them as a pair or you don’t have them at all.

9. Where in Skyhold would they be found?

Kendra has a workshop set up in the rooms above Skyhold’s garden where she mixes poisons and Tempest flasks. It’s a tidy-ish room with a desk on one side and a large Do Not Touch plant on the other. There’s a few crates lying around along with a few stacks of paper here and there. Outside of gameplay mechanics, if she’s not there then she’s at the tavern.

Darrell has a sparse room comprised of bed, desk, and music stand. He’s generally found out in the courtyard by the training field.

10. If Inquisition operated like DA:O, what would their gift items be? What would their approval and disapproval Feast Day items be?

Darrell likes books and small trinkets. His approval Feast Day item would be a violin, and his disapproval item would be the sheet music to a score infamous for being the worst composition ever put to paper.

Kendra likes practical gifts: a whetstone, maps, candles. Her approval item would be a rune-enchanted blade and her disapproval item would be anything overtly having to do with the Maker or the Chantry.

11. How would they grow as a person? How would they compare at the end of the Inquisition as a companion to who they were as the Inquisitor?

Kendra’s biggest difference is that she’s quicker to trust other members of the Inquisition when she’s a companion. It still takes time, but she mellows out fairly quickly with other party members after getting to Skyhold.

Darrell becomes more decisive in his actions throughout the game, though he remains empathetic to others and to different sides of an argument.

12. Do they believe the Herald of Andraste is really the Herald of Andraste?

Kendra doesn’t believe in the Maker or Andraste, so that’s a big fat no from her. Darrell believes Fanari when she says she isn’t the Herald.

13. If the Herald didn’t have them tag along to prep the trebuchets, what would they do during the battle for Haven? (bonus: would they join in on the impromptu Dawn Will Come choir practice in the camp?)

Kendra made herself part of the group prepping the trebuchets. She’s part of the action from the get-go. Darrell would be helping others evacuate.

The Dawn Will Come choir doesn’t happen in Fanar’s canon. She cuts Mother Giselle off partway through her speech and gets up to start organizing people so they have something to do to take their minds off the situation and get them out of it sooner. Fanari knows how to booster moral by showing steady and knowing leadership, so that’s what she does.

14. What nickname does Varric give them?

Kendra’s nickname for when she’s a companion is Knives, though tbh I’m thinking of just making it her Inquisitor nickname Junebug. So that’ll probably happen. Darrell gets Smiles, and Fanari is Starshine.

15. Without the influence of their decisions for the Inquisition, which of the companions do they get along with? Which ones do they bicker with?

Darrell and Sera butt heads at first, but they’re on friendly terms less than halfway through the game. The party members he best gets along with are Dorian, Cassandra, Vivienne, and Varric.

The only companions Kendra doesn’t get along with are Cassandra and Blackwall, after his personal quest. She does have polite conversations with Cassandra, but even in Trespasser their conversations aren’t overtly friendly. The party members she’s on best terms with are Iron Bull, Solas, Sera, and Vivienne.

Frictions arise between both of them and Solas post Solas breaking things off with Fanari.

16. What would the Fear Demon say to them in the Fade to try and discourage them?

For both it’s them losing each other or more members of their family. Darrell’s response is “I was beginning to feel left out,” while Kendra’s is “Can you tell how hard I’m thinking about killing you?”

17. Where do they hang out in the Winter Palace? What’s their thoughts on the nobles/The Game?

Both of them hang out on the opposite side of the balcony where you find Josephine. If asked, the offer advice about who to speak to and when. Ambient dialogue can be heard from various nobles about them, with approval of them as individuals going up through the night regardless of the Inquisitor’s standing.

Kendra lives for The Game. It’s putting everything she does daily (mistrusting, misdirecting, manipulating) all in one spot with new people who don’t know how she operates.

Darrell’s more ambivalent about it, what with the backstabbing and the distrust, but he’s still good at it. He has a charm about him that makes people believe his sincerity and he knows when to obfuscate an answer without the other party feeling left wanting.

18. What’s their reaction to a dragon showing up?

Both of them have an initial reaction of Fuck, though Kendra follows it with “Guess we have to fight it now,” while Darrell’s more in the “We really don’t” camp.

19. Once Corypheus is beaten, what do they do during the party? Do they stay with the Inquisition, or go somewhere else? What could the Inquisitor do to convince them to stay?

Both of them are near one of the fires in Skyhold’s judgement hall. Again, they’re a package deal, and Kendra will tell the Inquisitor that since Darrell wants to stay she’ll stick around. “Besides, the world’s not ending anymore. Might be nice to breathe for a bit. Thanks for that.”

20. How do they react to learning abominations can retain their consciousness and identity, and even live peacefully with their spirits/demons, as seen in Stone-Bear Hold?

Kendra’s intrigued. She’ll ask questions even if the Inquisitor doesn’t. Darrell’s a tad more cautious, but checks himself. They’re respectful that this isn’t a similar culture to theirs and that they have no say in how these people live their lives.

21. What do they think of the discoveries made in the Deep Roads? Do they make any comments on anything?

They both hate the Deep Roads and they’re sorry for suggesting they go there. Send word to the Shaperate about what we found and let’s go. Next time a boyfriend dumps you we’ll take you to an opera.

22. If you have another Inquisitor, how would those two get along, specifically?

Both of them see Fanari and go “that’s a whole-ass child”. Throughout the game Fanari’s unofficially adopted as a little sister. Fanari’s a tad closer to Kendra at the end of the day, but she does care deeply for both of them.

23. In Trespasser, what “gift” would they give the Inquisitor, if any?

They’re a bit too wrapped up in personal drama to have planned anything for Fanari. Though they’re both the most dedicated in getting her to the end of the DLC once her imminent death becomes known. Yeah, the mark might go off again and destroy everything in a ten-foot radius, but Fanari needs help standing upright so guess what they’re gonna do.

24. What are their plans for after the Exalted Council? Will the Inquisition staying in tact or being disbanded make a difference?

Fanari wrote the members of the Inquisition before the Exalted Council to say, paraphrased, “Inquisition’s over pack your shit and leave.” Kendra’s looking forward to going home to Ostwick, while Darrell’s going to Tevinter with Dorian.

Their squabbling over this becomes so bad Dorian confesses to Fanari he’s considered asking Darrell to stay in the south. “Gods, you are an only child,” Fanari says. Those of us with siblings, we know the tone. Maybe you without siblings do too I don’t know your life.

25. In the alternate reality, if they were corrupted with lyrium, how do they act? What’s their attitude about the end of the world/their inevitable death?

To be completely transparent this is the scenario that solidifies Fanari as Inquisitor over Kendra in the worldstate for me.

After Fanari and Dorian got yeeted forward in time, Darrell was killed in the following fight and Kendra imprisoned until Fanari and Dorian found her. What did she do for that year? Teach herself to become a templar using the red lyrium. By the time she’s released, her entire drive is focused on killing Alexius. She knows she’ll die soon, and she wants to take as many people with her as she can. “They’re going to find out what a mistake it was leaving a Trevelyan in a room full of lyrium.”

[july-19th-club]

legends but d&d

Rip: the DM, initially. did his best to create a well-rounded premise with simple rules and a decent first-round villain, then watched as his players careened quickly, gleefully, and inexorably off the rails. still having fun but becoming exasperated. has resorted to increasingly firm means to keep them in any sort of continuity, and following some basic semblance of "plot."

Sara: wanted to be a ranger, or a fighter, so she did both and crafted the token Revenge Character(TM) of the group but is too essentially fun-loving to get super grim about it. endlessly seeking retribution, sweet flips, and cute girls. oh my god, she's a Burnsides. has elected herself de facto decision maker in-game, and the table respects that. can de-escalate fights when necessary.

Ray: the guy who already knows ALL of the rules and won't hesitate to remind you about that fact. whether you wanted him to or not. plays a paladin and it's a little too on the nose, but also the person who brings snacks most regularly to sessions, and unflaggingly encourages the other players' hard work and good rolls. bit of a cheerleader but that's his best quality.

Leonard: made a Very Cool Rogue Guy and was determined to play neutral-to-neutral evil. somewhere along the way wound up firmly in neutral good territory. character got killed off at the end of the first big battle but he wanted to stay in the game, so now he just brings in what's essentially the same guy but "this time it's him from the past" or "this is his...identical double, glen, uh, smart, from...uh, from another universe...where he's gay.." does great over-the-top character voices.

Kendra: said she'd play for a few sessions only and stuck to that promise. creates a solid character with good emotional grounding and a strong backstory, and weaves it into the campaign creatively and professionally. could have done more with it if she'd stuck around, but strangely, once she's left the group can't really remember what she used to contribute. carter? well, he was always kind of an NPC at heart.

Amaya: creates a brilliant, moral warlock character, lawful good, with a firm purpose and plenty of depth. makes the mistake of agreeing to play a romance with another PC and super regrets it because now it's beginning to affect her actual stated goals and get in the way of her enjoyment of the game. good at breaking up arguments and getting the brainstorming rolling; not so much at the actual roleplay. eventually drags charlie along and watches proudly as she wreaks havoc on the party.

Mick: the dude who's basically just playing himself, but a barbarian this time instead of a guy who sits in a living room twice a month and eats very loud snacks at the table. found to his surprise that he was a better storyteller than anyone anticipated (even considering his frequent vocabulary mishaps) and is now many carefully typed pages deep into a tragic backstory involving the rogue and his own personal demons of the heart. kind of proud of himself if he's honest, and he should be.

Jax: brought his dad to the D&D group. has to keep stopping to explain the rules to his dad, and is trying not to resent this (he was the one who made the decision, after all). they build their character together and share custody over his actions, which leads to some contention when the ball really gets rolling. impatient and eager to make the magic happen; as a result gets ambushed frequently.

Stein: the dad that got brought to the D&D group. catches on quickly but pretends that he doesn't so that he can have an excuse for zoning out during the boring bits. always the player who's turned to for double-checking on plans, thinking through investigations, and searching through the rulebook and reading off the results in a Serious Academic Tone to settle disputes. keeps the atmosphere civil.

Ava: here because her girlfriend said 'you'll LOVE it come on PLEASE join our group.' she does NOT know if she loves it. she's often uncomfortable and feels the panic of public speaking every time she's asked to roleplay but eventually grows a little more at ease with the concept. didn't really know what to do about character building so it's basically a clone of herself but with a sword this time.

John: shows up to every session claiming he has WAY better things to be doing than sit around playing D&D with these plebes. comes religiously to every single meeting anyway. insisted on introducing his own homebrewed adjustments to the magic system so as to make it quote-unquote More Realistic(TM). leaves for a smoke break whenever he thinks things are getting a little boring. absolutely refuses to do character voices no matter how much anyone begs.

Zari: never was much of a one for fantasy before, having sat firmly on the sci-fi line of the nerd circle in the past. now plays a wizard whose powers are entirely technology-based, which makes things interesting since they're in a pre-industrial world more often than not. finds that fake fights in D&D are a great frustration outlet. double-classed into a paladin whose powers reflect her real-world faith, but her most important role? is as my girlfriend.

Nate: starts out as everybody's least favorite player but gets much better at building his character once he's not too distracted by his crush to focus on the game. finds a nice balance between 'fighter' and 'scholar' and is good at guiding the party through traps and puzzles. draws everyone detailed, beautiful illustrations of their characters, and is the only person who genuinely enjoys Ray's morals rants.

Charlie: dragged to the group by Amaya and subscribes to her own complex idea of what, exactly, a D&D game IS. plays a bard who is a punk rocker and decides almost immediately that her character needs to have specific, individual beef with all the other party members. enjoys getting missions off-track for mischief reasons and therefore pretty good at getting the group engaged again when enthusiasm is starting to flag.

Gary: took over as DM after Rip left to enjoy more time with his remaining brain cells. Mick was the interim DM, but being a good writer doesn’t always mean you’ll be a good games master so the story was in a really weird place by the time ol gare-bear got there. Quickly developed a bad habit of inventing monsters whose sole purpose is to punish the players for annoying him, but in his defense they SO often deserve it. Against all odds he is still putting up with them (they think THEY are putting up with HIM).

[allisonawakened]

Not sure if you can help me, but I’m very distressed and need some guidance. I see spirits almost daily, hear voices, and sense the presence of angles, demons, and spirits. Often I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and see spirits at the end of my bed. It terrifies me. I don’t know how to control my gifts/develop them. I’ve often wondered if I was insane, but other people have confirmed my experiences to be real. If you have any advice I’d really appreciate it.

Hello Beautiful ♥

This is one of my *last few* super-old Asks & I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you with Spirit sooner. I have a lot of empathy for what you’re experiencing because I’ve been there… Anyone who is adept at Spirit Work of any kind has been there, really. Control is such a hard thing when you are initially bombarded with everything, and control comes with time.

I guess this isn’t true for everyone. Some people seek to open more, while the naturally gifted usually end up seeking for some semblance of sanity. Been there, done that, got all the t-shirts.

I’m going to suggest something that helped me *way back when*, but I have to say… just because it helped me doesn’t mean it will 100% work for you. The gifts are individual, and how our hearts, minds & souls process spiritual lessons is individual as well. We all have to find our own path & method in dealing with our spiritual abilities.

That being said though… In the beginning, like you, I was so overwhelmed by the number and diverse nature of the entities / energies / spirits that would visit me & sometimes I guess I also felt intimidated or afraid because with certain entities it’s just impossible to know, understand, or discover their true motives in seeking to initiate communication with you. They always seem to have their own agenda and depending on the type of entity they are they may not deem it necessary to let you in on that agenda or that agenda may not even be in line with your highest good.

So in the beginning I actually sought to ignore the things that weren’t relevant to me. In fact I think I would repeat a phrase like that in my head and then visualize certain aspects of protection, plus carry spiritual tools of protection (like protective crystals), plus do more ritualistic work in protecting my home, my bedroom, etc. 

And it was only through that work over the course of months if not years, that my natural psychic defenses just sort of started kicking in on their own. Now the switch has flipped where I don’t notice entities in my home AT ALL unless I’m *working* (spirit work) from home via my clients. And even then the only entities / energies / spirits I interact with at home are now my Guides / Allies + Loved Ones that hang out with me a few days before a client’s session.

In terms of what methods will work for you - again it’s really trial & error, but I would definitely focus most of your spirit work right now in protection, grounding, and asserting your own energetic will rather than engaging in communication with these entities.

Spirit just whispered an interesting thing to me while typing that last paragraph: “Don’t feed the Beast”

I think what Spirit means is that the more you choose to pay attention to & engage with these entities, or try to “figure them out” (why they’re there, where they’re from, why they want you, etc.) the more you’re focusing your will and energy on them. Spirit says in times like these it’s best to be selfish in regard to your own mental, emotional, physical & spiritual health. And that means beefing up your repertoire on Psychic Defense and Spiritual Protection.

♥

There are a few books I like (and one I haven’t read yet but it’s on my list) about Psychic Protection: 

My current “go-to” is not really a mainstream or well-known one but it’s called [ “The Art of Psychic Protection” ] by Judy Hall (that’s a link to the “Good Reads” profile on this book). 

It’s an old one so some of the practice or knowledge is a bit dated but I think why I enjoy this one is because my first / initially most powerful gift was Clairvoyance, so anything with visualization work actually makes things easier for me. There’s a lot of “theory” to learn from in this book but also practical application & it covers not only entities but “cord cutting”, “psychic attack”, and a variety of other topics.

The next book I plan to read *soon* and I have heard is good, is [ “The Occult Art of War” ] by Seth Cardorra (that’s an Amazon.com link for ordering the book). Which is loosely based on the principles presented by Sun Tzu in “The Art of War”. 

Side Note: Some of the reviews about this book say it’s a bit complex or it’s based on the idea that the reader is already well-versed in magical / spiritual work. And I can understand that just based on the exercise I performed below.

Because I haven’t read this one yet I just pulled a *bibliomancy* move by opening up the book to a random page to see what message I get / if the info resonates and the 1st + 2nd passages I read amount to this:

1. Sun Tzu: “Ordinarily, an army likes high places and dislikes low ground, values light and despises darkness,”

Occult Art of War translation: “There are always constants one should be aware of. Keep to your advantages and do not allow yourself to be burdened by your disadvantages.”

I really like that passage for you. I feel like it’s a reminder that you’re powerful enough to even be able to interact with entities to begin with, which means you’re powerful enough to deal with them otherwise you wouldn’t possess these gifts & abilities. Don’t look at your ability to communicate as a disadvantage, instead look at it as an asset and see what line of thinking that leads you to.

The second passage I read is:

2. Sun Tzu: “Take care of physical health and stay where there are plenty of resources. When there is no sickness in the army it is said to be invincible.”

Occult Art of War translation: “Keep close to your resources, take care not to overtax your energy or spread yourself too thin. If you do you will be stuck at a lower power levels until your position changes.”

That one resonated with me today - just read the note I posted before answering this Ask! I had to bail on / cancel or reschedule a lot of things last week because my energy was just not in the space to best “perform”, and honestly I’ve been questioning whether it is okay to do that. I guess Spirit just gave me my answer ;) 

♥

I could literally sit here and write forever on this topic or subject BUT instead, I encourage you to re-submit an Ask if you now have alternative questions about dealing with these gifts or spirit communication. I always just feel like there’s so much ground to cover in sharing knowledge / practice in Spirit Work.

Wishing you the best in dealing with this & please have faith in your own abilities / skills. You’ve got this, you just need to believe that you do.

It can be in entities’ best interest to encourage our disbelief in ourself. So we have to be the ones to push past what they are trying to communicate and instead always focus on what you know to be true deep within yourself.

Best of luck Babe 

♥

[ao3feed-destiel]

Promises and Faith

Read it on AO3 here!https://ift.tt/2RLrcmh

by Little_vesuvius

A rewrite of the missing year (and Season 6 of Supernatural) to explore what might have happened that year had Castiel not tried so hard to keep Dean out of the war in Heaven and, instead, decided to remain by his side.

Or: Sam made Castiel promise, to swear an oath to leave him in Hell and take care of Dean when Sam was gone, if Cas survived. Bound by this promise, things begin to unravel as Heaven begins to go to war, Hell starts rising again, and a true monster-not a child of Eve-sets its eyes on Dean.

Begins during the year between Season 5 and 6, canonically; given that Dean takes a year to 'retire' and then gets back into hunting. Inspired in large part by how Castiel was retconned in Season 6, and uses the characterization of Castiel from seasons 4 and 5 to explore what could have been done in Season 6 and beyond after the apocalypse.

The Title is a work in progress. If anyone has any better suggestions, by all means I will use them!

Words: 2164, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Team Free Will, Redux

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Dean Winchester, Ben Braeden, Castiel, OFC, OMC, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, OC/OC

Additional Tags: Dean is the Righteous Man, Righteous Doesn't Mean Nice, Eventually Includes NCIS, Post-Season 5, Soulless Sam Winchester, POV Third Person Limited, Demons, Fills That Missing Year, Angst with a Happy Ending, not a case fic, Warrior Castiel, Covers the War in Heaven, and beyond, Assumes Lisa Braeden lives in Virginia, pov original characters, Bobby SInger - Freeform, Original Character POVs, Dean Lies About His Name, Consistently, For the Nth time, Ben is Dean's son, Extremely Slow Burn, like glacial, Castiel doesn't understand human emotion, Dean's mark is more than just a handprint, Very Protective Castiel, Protector Castiel/Caretaker Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Is A Good Dad, Castiel Is a Good Parent, Castiel is Awkward, Cas tries, so does Dean, Lisa's family is involved, Lisa is given a Back story, Bisexual Dean Winchester, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Nerfing doesn't happen, Humans are stronger than we all think, Dean Winchester Can Kick Your Ass, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Deals with some military culture, Cas fixed his public records so he looks like an ex-marine, Because that about covers how lethal he is, Dean v. a normal human means Dean wins, Warning: Deals with PTSD, Warning: Dean is a sarcastic man, POV Soulless Sam Winchester, but only for a little bit, Seriously most of this fic is Dean and Cas PoV, Later Crossovers, With normal Earth things, because reasons, The Archangel Raphael Hates Castiel, Warning: deals with memory erasure, Warning: near-demon Dean after torture in Hell, Angelic Grace, New Ways for Angels to restore their Grace, Like really Gabriel should have lost his, and didn't, And so here I have a better explanation, Castiel Has Missing Memories, Later Deals with Gender fluidity and nephilim, Eventual resurrections, Castiel got beefed up after dying again, He's about as strong as Zachariah was at full power, Warning: Don't Mess with the Winchesters, death is a girl, Death Still Likes Dean, also dean is so fed up with heaven, soulmate bonds manipulated, Healing from broken soulbonds, the Grigori are not nice, Dean kept Zachariah's blade, Humans Have Power Too, Like Actual Supernatural-Resistance Power not just Ingenuity, Because I like playing with canons, Warning for Mentions of Sexual Assault, No explicit assault, Demons Are Assholes, Crowley is the Exception that Proves the Rule, Not Canon Compliant, canon adjacent, adopted family, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Profound Bond really means Cas has a crush, How Do I Tag, Angels Are Not Nerfed, I Don't Nerf Things, Generally, Unless I can't make their powers make sense, I Guess Major If You Count Lisa Braeden As Major, I don't, Anti Dean/Lisa as a romantic Couple, Lisa Is a Wild Oats Woman, Lisa Is Dean's Friend, Dean Needs More Friends, OMC - Dylan Watson, OFC - Gene Simmons, Warning: Demonic possession, Warning: Half-Demons Are Really Terrifying, Minor Character Death, Dean Gets Therapy, so does ben, Therapy For Hunters Is A thing, Because Dean Really Needs It, And He's Not Sleeping, Mechanic Dean Winchester, I'm Not Sure How Many Tags This Fic Will Have, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Aldritch (?) Can't Spell His Name, Gwen Campbell - Freeform, Minor Campbell Characters, Samuel Campbell - Freeform

Link: https://ift.tt/2RLrcmh

[calamusgerent-blog]

JOHN MILTON, REVIEWED.

Paradise Lost, by John Milton.

EVERYONE IS A POLEMICIST, THESE DAYS. IT MEANS “ONE WHO ENGAGES IN CONTROVERSIAL DEBATE,” AND AS A PERSON WITH A TUMBLR, I SEE HOW IT IS AN EASY PIT TO FALL INTO. IT’S EASY TO BE SELF-RIGHTEOUS, AND INFURIATING, AND ENGAGE IN DISCUSSIONS WHICH WILL SERVE, NOT TO CONVINCE, BUT TO INFURIATE OTHERS.

MILTON WAS THAT BITCH, TM.

PARDISE LOST IS AN EPIC POEM ABOUT THE CREATION OF THE UNIVERSE, LUCIFER’S FALL, AND THEN THE FIRST SIN OF MANKIND. I’M NOT CHRISTIAN, BUT THAT DOESN’T STOP THIS STORY FROM GETTING USED OVER AND OVER FOREVER INTO ETERNITY. I’VE SEEN THE MATRIX, AND LIKE THE MATRIX, PARADISE LOST IS BIBLE FANFICTION.

BUT LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE DUDE HIMSELF. BACK WHEN PEOPLE STAYED FILTHY TO KEEP THE DEMONS OUT, MILTON GOT A MASTER’S DEGREE AT CAMBRIDGE. THERE WERE NO PH.D.’S BACK THEN, SO AFTER, HE KEPT STUDYING IN HIS PARENT’S BASEMENT FOR SIX YEARS.

SOUND LONELY? BELIEVE ME, HE EARNED THE SOLITUDE. NO ONE AT CAMBRIDGE LIKED MILTON. WHEN ONE OF HIS FEW FRIENDS DIED, HE WENT TO THEIR FUNERAL AND READ ALOUD A POEM THAT WAS ELEVEN STANZAS LONG. IMAGINE WONDERWALL, BUT AT A FUNERAL, AND WORSE. 15TH CENTURY CRINGE CULTURE. WOULD YOU HAVE INVITED THIS DRIP TO YOUR PARTIES? PROBABLY NOT.

…

HEY.

JOHN MILTON GOT MARRIED THREE TIMES. HIS FIRST WIFE HATED HIM, HIS SECOND WIFE DIED IN CHILDBIRTH, AND HIS THIRD WIFE—HE LOVED HER. BUT THE DAUGHTERS FROM HIS PREVIOUS MARRIAGE HATED HER, SO EVEN THOUGH HE LOVED SOMEONE, HE WAS NEVER HAPPY.

HE WENT BLIND BEFORE HE EVER WROTE PARADISE LOST. HE ASKED HIS DAUGHTERS TO READ TO HIM IN MANY LANGUAGES—LATIN, ITALIAN, GREEK—WHICH THEY DIDN’T UNDERSTAND. THEY RESENTED HIM FOR IT; I GET THAT, I REALLY DO. HE SHOULD HAVE INVESTED IN THEIR EDUCATION, INSTEAD OF MOURNING FOR THE SONS WHO’D DIED.

HE DICTATED HIS BEST POETRY.

…HAVE YOU EVER WRITTEN A POEM? IT FUCKING SUCKS. POETRY IS INDUCING SYNESTHESIA IN SOMEONE ELSE. IT’S TELLING A RIVER THE WAY IT FEELS TO FLY, WHEN YOU YOURSELF DON’T HAVE WINGS. I CAN’T TYPE POEMS, BECAUSE THEY’RE TOO HEAVY. THAT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE, BUT IT’S THE TRUTH: I NEED TO FEEL THEM AS I ETCH THEM ON A PIECE OF PAPER, LIKE A CAVEMAN CHIPPING AWAY AT A LOPSIDED WHEEL.

IMAGINE DICTATING A POEM. IMAGINE FREESTYLING RULES-HEAVY VERSE IN A HOUSE WHERE EVERYONE VOCALLY HATES YOU. IMAGINE THAT POEM IS PARADISE FUCKING LOST.

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me?

A UNIVERSAL QUESTION, AND AN IMPORTANT ONE.

Should God create another Eve, and I Another Rib afford, yet loss of thee Would never from my heart; no no, I feel The Link of Nature draw me: Flesh of Flesh, Bone of my Bone thou art, and from thy State Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.

“I KNOW HOW THE CONVENTIONS OF THIS STORY WORK. I KNOW THAT MY FEELINGS FOR YOU CAN BE REWRITTEN, OR EVEN ERASED FROM TIME. I DON’T CARE. I LOVE YOU ANYWAY.”

This having learnt, thou hast attained the sum Of Wisdom; hope no higher, though all the Stars Thou knew’st by name, and all th’ ethereal Powers, All secrets of the deep, all Nature’s works, Or works of God in Heav’n, Air, Earth, or Sea, And all riches of this World enjoy’dst, And all the rule, one Empire: only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add Faith, Add Virtue, Patience, Temperance, add Love, By name to come called Charity, the soul Of all the rest: then wilt though not be loth To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess A paradise within thee, happier far.

THE SCOPE OF THIS POEM IS EVERYTHING. I’M NOT SAYING THAT IT’S IMPORTANT FOR ANALYSIS, I’M SAYING IT’S LITERALLY EVERYTHING—LIGHT, CREATION, GOD, MAN, LOVE, SIN, EXISTENCE, EVERYTHING. THE IMAGERY IS RELIGIOUS, OF COURSE, BUT IT WASN’T PURITANICAL. IN THAT PASSAGE, MICHAEL IS TELLING ADAM, “HEAVEN IS PARADISE, BUT IT ISN’T THE ONLY ONE. EDEN WAS GREAT, BUT THERE’S NO REASON NOT-EDEN HAS TO BLOW CHUNKS. THAT’S UP TO YOU. JUST DON’T BE A DOUCHEBAG.”

MOST OF THE ISSUES I TAKE WITH MILTON ARE ISSUES I TAKE WITH THE CHRISTIAN STORY OF GENESIS. AT LEAST PARADISE LOST MAKES SATAN’S OFFER SEDUCTIVE AND CONVINCING. WE SEE SATAN FALL; WE SEE HIM COME TO TERMS WITH THE IDEA THAT HEAVEN IS TRULY LOST TO HIM. WE SEE HIS WRATH. THEN, WE SEE ADAM AND EVE BEING TOLD, BY AN ANGEL NO LESS, THAT HEAVEN DOESN’T HAVE TO BE A PLACE.

THAT’S FAIRLY WILD, RIGHT? THAT THIS SUPER CHRISTIAN MAN THOUGHT, “HEY, REDEMPTION IS STILL POSSIBLE AFTER YOU MAKE A MISTAKE. WRATH AND VENGEANCE KEEP YOU FROM CORRECTING YOUR COURSE TO HAPPINESS. NOT LOCATION. CHRISTIANITY ISN’T ABOUT REAL ESTATE.”

MILTON FOUGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO GET A DIVORCE. HE READ LIKE HE WAS PAID TO DO IT, WHICH HE WICKED WASN’T, BECAUSE HE DIED IMPOVERISHED. HE WENT BLIND, AND YET KEPT UP HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH THE WRITTEN WORD, PRECEDING BRAILLE BY HALF A MILLENNIUM. HE CREATED ONE OF THE MOST CELEBRATED WORKS IN MODERN ENGLISH TO DATE. YES, HE WAS EGOTISTICAL WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER. BUT BAD SHIT HAPPENED TO HIM, CONTINUOUSLY, UNTIL HE DIED, AND HE WROTE COOL SHIT WITHOUT THE ABILITY TO READ IT WITHOUT HELP.

I WAS GOING TO RIP ON MILTON FOR BEING A NERD. BUT, OTHER THAN HIS DUMB HAIRCUT AND HIS SQUANDERING OF HIS FAMILY’S MONEY, I DON’T HAVE A BEEF WITH HIM. HIS WRITING IS SOLID.

RATING: PEOPLE COMPARE THIS DUDE TO SHAKESPEARE, AND THEY SHOULD. HE’S WORTH IT.

[dogboymutual]

highlights of scary game squad’s playthrough of faith

red light, sinners

let’s get old testament!

OH LORD,,,, WE’RE GONNA GETCHA,,,, aAAAAaAAAAA

actually this is Catholic, not at all Southern Baptist

it’s like *ominous latin* and you drink wine and you hate yourself or whatever

when you stop walking you put up a crucifix and it’s like, “Chill.”

Into the Atari Church.

Kiss. THE BOOK!

Fuck you deer! Go to church!

who the fuck was that? the spiderman

d i d  w e  j u s t ,  l i k e ,  p r a y  t o  t h e  d e v i l

not in his house

i like how he’s like, “suffer, oh fuck you, damn, you got me, foiled again by the power of Christ, what a buzzkill”

Jesus was a  R e a l   D r a g .

All the best, Satan  Darryl Henderson

Rick and Mortis

Dio mas no szechwan sauce

“Dude, don’t do those jokes that are over my head, dude. That’s too smart for me.”

have you tried, Pocket Mortis. on the App Store.

Hail Jesus, okay bye

thanks, Bambi

the game companies tried to run us over. That was Capcom

Boil my cooties, Jeff

You’ve got this weird swagger as a priest, ‘cause you know you walk with Jesus

That guy said motherfucker, I swear “he keeps saying something about my father”

just be ready to turn around and blast Jesus

FUCKIN BOO-BOO ASS SLENDERMAN, TRYING TO RUIN EVERYONE’S TIME

get away from me bitch, i need to go in this well.

this is MY black, open nowhere forest

the name of one character being one letter off of the name of one of the guys in the squad

jirard changes the name to fit davis and he just responds with the tiniest little “don’t do that”

alright, thanks guys, i’m just gonna, run home.

that’s a scooby doo photo

OH! Possess it.

just look out for cyber slenderman.

physically fit family, guys.

even physically fit families can get possessed by the Devil

Yo. Is that Google Chrome?

no, that is a Simon Says.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh. Nate.

*odd accent*  In ze baaaasement.

Oh. Blood on the floor. My favorite.

Get ready to exorcise some sheets and some other stuff

Yo, blast that with some Jesus. JEBUS

Layton. “Professor Layton?” Quiet. “Thank you.” Indubitably.

the most monotone voice ever: “yikes”

oh, that is boo-boo

go JAZZ her with some JESUS

6 o’clock bOIIIIS

d. do we need to jump out the window like in The Exorcist.

“isn’t that bad...?”

come on you crazy arm faced B I T C H

fuck, man

(demon jumps out window) GO WITH GOD! :D

i would literally die, i would literally pass away right on the spot

no, you don’t need the shotgun you have  J e e e e s u s

After obtaining the shotgun, Jirard proceeds to talk about the priest’s “big dick” for about 10 seconds straight

and then it catches on until the conversation just devolves into “BIG DICK BOYS!”

the squad with the large dinguses

the lord giveth and the priest taketh away

let’s go home and be safe by 8 o’clock, sleep in our beds leave the occult alone, if we’re lucky there will be a stop at an Arby’s

have some Arby’s. avoid the demons.

Choke your demon to death with beef and cheddar cheese.

oh fuck, Ring Boys! EAT US, E-EAT US-

“ey, i heard you killed my dad, bitch.”

Oh, hey there neighbor, I- *gets shot*  OH GOD

Davis is the creepy white guy

[freescottiejuug]

1204PM April 1400TH 2021+

(inaa Hole innis Bihhh)

{RRCC AZDOC #339003 Jamal R Grant}

Burrently bumping Demons by #LandstripChip

Jus 8 Roast Beef and Tatos and Bread (prob da best meal we get)

Wishing I could listen to Scottie's Room by #ScottieJuug

\\*+*Woman Wednesday*+*//

I been thru alot of #heartbreak. like 50% of my tattoos got sum to do with being sad or heartbroken lol. I cry sumtimes @ the fact I never got to meet #Juice or #Peep or #XXX. I feel like we all came from the same planet. like fr. only diff between them 3 and me is I'm a #Prison Baby. like it was in my #destiny to goto prison n jail until I humbled n matured. I caught my first case @ 11. yk what I realized when I woke up this AM. man I spent my sweet 16 in the hole Washington County Juvenile Detention Center. now ima spend my 26th birthday in the hole... life truly is a revolving door. until you mature, keep #faith, and truly BE DIFFERENT. Free da sad shooter man (sad emoji) #SadBoi

Shouts out to Bulma tho. its #Woman #Wednesday.. so ima shout my woman out (black heart emoji) lol to this day I still think I'm dreaming when it comes to her. like when we first met I was 22 , she 19. i was juggling Vivian, Meech, Ahjahlah, and Josselin. and along came #Bulma. Now I was FWB all 4 of these women. jus living the single life ig. but Bulma was diff lol for 1 she did not put out, so I'm thinking she don't like me. for 2 she was so beautiful yet unique to me that I didn't treat her as I did the others. for 3 lmfao a nigga was nervous around her. even when I was HIGH ASFFFF! long story later I stop talking to her bc I figure she don't fwm. Zoom Zoom *From the #Nissan commercial now it's 2021. Juug been gone 3yrs. and she shoots her shot @ me. little do she know it really was a slam dunk bc she been on a nigga mental lol. and from day 1 she been all a nigga could ever ask for or dream of. Its Love 5sho (heart eyes emoji) #Bulmajuug

lol tbh I really wanna send out my thottales about the sexual adventures of Scottie Juug. idk lmfaoooo. we shall see. till next time (peace sign emoji)

Listening to #Topanga by #TrippieRedd

#CoreCivic #CCA #RedRock #RRCC #AZDOC #Prison #Nopenpalsneeded #wcw #freeme #freescottiejuug #freejuug #jaypay #securus #mediacredits #email #2021 #april #sadboyz #drip #bobbarker #orangeisthenewblack #ronperry #qualitycontrol #qcthelabel #arkansas #bentonville #UofA #badenergy #badvibes #ososad #onperiod #tumblrjuug #freelild #freelilsteve #freelango #ripqq #ripwalle #ramennoodlegang #sorrymom #maga #fword