#this image is just a collection of things that terrify me

[gatoiberico]

he has the ultimate power

✨ print ✨

[thaliagracesgf]

i hail a cab with a goat, and make some questionable decisions at a party

next

author’s note: i want to make it, like, really, really, clear that this is not a fic glorifying sa or being a victim. what the reader goes through here is a horrible experience, one that’s happened to me and countless other women (and other people!!). this fic is for anyone who, in the words of rachel sennot in bottoms, has been “gray-area-d,” and felt completely lost afterwards, not knowing how to feel or what to think. this is one example of how you deserved to have been treated, and i’m sorry if this or something similar wasn’t your experience. 

content warnings: sexual assault (not graphic and not by luke! r is sort of tied down and has their shorts undone), violence (luke is not happy about this situation), alcohol (r is drunk), talking about it afterwards?, talking about monsters (on a regular pjo level), swearing. 

word count: 6.6k. i had a lot to say. so sorry.

this is the first fic i have written in a while, i hope you enjoy it!

⭑

seven a.m. in the camp half-blood dining pavilion saw the same faces every morning. you, silena beauregard, clarisse larue, and annabeth chase. your little group of friends spanned six years, at seventeen, fourteen, thirteen, and eleven, and your best friend, who had been off at college all year, made it eight. 

you didn’t remember becoming friends with silena and clarisse, although you figured hannah, your best friend and silena’s older half-sister, must have introduced you, and clarisse came along with her. 

you had met annabeth and hannah when you were just thirteen, when you had followed a friend to connecticut in the middle of pre-algebra. 

“do you understand any of this?” you whispered to grover. he gave you a look as if he had never seen a fraction before last week, and you sighed. your teacher, a kind old woman named ms. lucy, gave you a look. when she gave the class a new problem to work through, she came and knelt by your desk, looking over your shoulder at what you had managed so far. which was a whole lot of nothing, unless you included a sketch of grover that would make picasso proud. you shrunk sheepishly in your chair. 

you looked to your right, as if trying to see how bad it really was compared to your model, but he was gone. you turned back to ms. lucy. 

“did you see grover leave?” 

“hmm?”

“grover. did he go to the bathroom?”

“i assume so, dear. if you convert the decimal—" but grover’s things were gone. you felt terrible. you knew you were a terrible student, and ms. lucy was so kind to you anyways, but it wasn’t like grover to walk out of class like that. he was terrified of authority.

“i have to go,” you mumbled to ms. lucy, throwing your things in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “stomachache.” 

she looked genuinely concerned. “would you like me to let the nurses know you’re coming?”

“no… no. that’s okay.” and you ran out the door. 

it wasn’t too hard to find grover. he was sitting in an empty classroom just a few doors down, but what was weirder was that he was watching a video on the projector. weirder still, he was talking to it. you knew it was rude to eavesdrop. it didn’t stop you from doing it. 

“chiron, i can’t just leave. she’s here, and she’s in danger. she needs a protector. anything could come for her at any moment—" was he talking about you? 

a deep voice over the projector, whose face you could hardly make out through the low-quality image, answered: “i will inform her mother and she will go home. she will stay there until we can send gleeson to collect her and—"

“why can’t you send gleeson for these kids?” 

“he’s too far, it would take him a day at least to reach them. i already told you, this was a request from hermes himself. he wants his son and his friends collected as soon as possible, and—" 

who the hell was gleeson? and hermes… who names their kid after a greek god? at least choose one with a better name than hermes. it sounded like a disease. your mother had named your brother after some greek hero, but he didn’t go by it. and at least it was, like, a human name. 

“he’s the god of travelers.” you were starting to worry that grover might be on drugs. what on earth had they put in those enchiladas at lunch? “can’t he get him, like, a car? a day could be too long for—"

“grover.” the voice boomed. that shut him up. “you will go. you will escort the son of hermes, the daughter of athena, and the daughter of zeus to camp, and then you may return to the city. this is not up for discussion.” you were really starting to think that the booming voice might have been two booming voices, but the door was closed and the audio was already crackly, so you decided it didn’t really matter. 

you heard grover’s voice say, “alright,” defeated and almost mournful, and then the message cut off. your eyes widened as you realized that grover would probably step outside any second, and you would have no excuse as to what you were doing with your ear to the wall. you turned slowly, and winced as your shoe squeaked on the linoleum floor. you started speedwalking. no sense in trying to hide anymore, you were just interested in getting as far away as possible before-

“oh, gods.” grover’s voice echoed between cinder block walls and metal lockers. “how much did you hear?”

you turned, your fingers nervously twisting the straps of your backpack. “i mean. not everything. just. you know.”

“almost everything?”

“yeah.”

“this is not good. this is really not good.” grover wasn’t talking to you anymore. he was pacing the short ways of the corridor, head in his hands, muttering to himself. “my first mission and i’ve already messed it up completely.” 

“how could you have messed it up completely? you haven’t even met these kids yet.”

“oh, gods,” grover groaned.

“woah, dude. are you like, hindu or something?”

“what?”

“you said gods. plural. i read this book—"

“okay,” grover interrupted. “you need to go home.” 

“okay. that was rude. also, it’s like the middle of the day. my mom’s at work and my stepdad will kill me if i come home early.”

“your stepfather. perfect. just climb in the back window of your room, and when your mom gets home, tell her that chiron says you need to go to camp immediately.”

“what? what the hell are you talking about? who— is that who you were talking to on the phone?”

“what?”

“the phone call. the one you were mad at me for overhearing…”

“okay. first of all, that was not overhearing, that was eavesdropping. second of all, i’m not mad. this just complicates things slightly. third of all—"

“dude, you need to—" grover glared at me, and i shut up. 

“third of all,” he repeated, “that wasn’t a phone call. it was an iris message.”

“a what?”

“nevermind. not important. ask about it at camp.”

“why do you keep talking about a camp? i haven’t been to camp since music camp in second grade, and they don’t want me back. i was really, really, bad at the recorder.”

“you played the recorder?” grover looked suddenly very interested. “nevermind. you need to go home.”

“dude. i’m telling you, i. can’t.” 

“you have to—"

“take me to connecticut,” you suggested. 

“what?”

“isn’t that where you’re running off to?”

“you can’t come to connecticut with me—"

“why not? you seemed pretty adamant on the phone—"

“iris message”

“that you needed to be with ‘her’. based on how insanely you have freaked out, i’m guessing that was me. so take me with you.”

“i know you have no idea what is going on right now—"

“thank you for finally acknowledging that important part of this conversation.”

“- but taking you to connecticut would be an astronomically bad idea. like i-would-get-fired kind of bad idea.”

“you’re twelve. how on earth would you get fired? child labor laws are—"

“i’m nineteen.” 

you laughed at that one. “yeah, sure.” 

grover rolled his eyes. “look, i really, really, wish i could explain more, but i need to go. and i really, really need you to go home.”

“ok.”

“like really, really need you to listen—" he paused. “okay? great!”

“if it means that much to you, i’ll go home.” grover sighed with relief. 

he was eating his words. and a tin can he had picked up off the street. you had followed him out of the building, watched him call a cab, and then, at the last second, jumped in after him, slammed the door, and told the driver to drive before grover could figure out what was going on. 

after your initial panic, when you realized you were hurtling up fifth avenue at three-hundred miles per hour with three old ladies behind the wheel, you had straightened yourself out, and made grover explain everything. he had, reluctantly, when he came to terms with the fact that you were in too deep to back out now.  

he explained camp, the greek (not hindu) gods, and the ladies in the front (who had one eye between them) were very helpful about filling in the details. so, so many details. he explained that he didn’t know who your parent was, just that you were powerful, and that he was planning on asking your mom before everything went up in flames.  

he explained that he was going to connecticut to escort three (now four) demigods to camp half-blood, and that they would likely be tailed by monsters the entire way back. four demigods as powerful as you, and one forbidden child — a child of zeus, poseidon, or hades, as he had mentioned — would attract a lot of attention. 

and you did. it took you a month to get to camp after you found thalia, luke, and annabeth, constantly being thrown off course by monsters, over which you got to know them better than any friends you’d had in your life (with the exception of maybe grover and your little brother). your mother was worried sick, but you iris-messaged her (grover finally got through on that one) every so often, letting her know you were okay. she was surprisingly understanding about camp. she apologized that she hadn’t been the one to take you herself, and that she had been forced to hide the truth from you for so long. the calls always ended though, when she tried to tell you who your father was. the water would shut off suddenly, the rainbow disappearing along with your mother, so you learned to avoid the topic if you wanted to continue talking. 

when thalia died, you were in shock. you sat at the edge of long island sound at camp for three days, staring into the ocean. you didn’t speak, even when you were claimed, as you sat, by your father, poseidon, and shuffled your things from the hermes cabin into cabin three. it was just another loss — you could no longer sleep in the bed next to luke’s. there were no familiar faces in cabin three — no faces at all. you were completely alone. 

eventually, an older aphrodite girl came by the cabin. she introduced herself as hannah, and she showed you around camp, forced you to sit with her and her siblings at dinner, dealing with chiron and mr. d’s disgruntlement herself, and at the campfire. she dragged you to the center of the amphitheater, dancing slowly at first, and then faster, until you were laughing and finding luke and annabeth in the crowd and dragging them to dance as well. 

you missed hannah so much. she wasn’t that far, a first year at barnard this fall, where you would hopefully be in a couple of years. you weren’t ready for college yet, you thought, so you would take a gap year (though you hadn’t been in school for years) and stay at camp, while chiron would help you convince the admissions committee (using the mist) that you had a perfect gpa, excellent extracurricular activities, and a stellar recommendation letter from a highly admired ancient greek scholar by the name of professor c. brunner.  

sitting at breakfast with you was probably miserable, you could admit. you were counting down the days until hannah came back, and your friends were definitely tired of it. but for some reason, this morning silena was practically jumping up and down with something. 

“will you stop?” you asked. “you’re shaking the entire table.” 

“i can’t, i’m sorry.” she seemed sincere in her apology. “i just— oh, you’ll see.”

you didn’t see, in fact, as someone jumped out from behind you and wrapped their arms around your head, their sweatshirt covering your eyes. “who—" you started, before you got a whiff of lavender-vanilla perfume and jumped up from the table. 

hannah. you shrieked, probably waking up half the camp. you spun around and tackled her to the ground, hugging her so tightly you would probably cut off her circulation. 

she pushed you off, laughing, and got to her feet. “it’s good to see you too, babe. what’s up with all of you? you never call, i feel like i’ve been completely cut off.” (you had iris-messaged her last week for five hours). 

“your sister is still absolutely obsessed with beckendorf,” you said, sitting down.

“hey!” silena protested.

“but of course he has no idea that he likes her.” silena turned pink. “no one here is good enough for annabeth, obviously—"

“i never said that, clarisse doesn’t let any boys near me.” you stick your tongue out at her. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” clarisse said, feigning obliviousness. “you hang out with luke all the time.”

“he’s always hanging out with that new kid.” she grumbled. “or—"

“speaking of, clarisse definitely thinks this hermes boy is so cute— you haven’t met him, he got here a few months ago, but his name is chris, and i think they would be so cute together. she’s out of everyone’s league, obviously, but if anyone would be good for her—" 

“gods, you would think you’re the aphrodite kid, listening to you.” hannah smiled. she stole a bite of your french toast. 

“i’m just excited to see you,” you said, laying your head on her shoulder. silena and clarisse smirked. 

“she’s leaving somebody out here,” silena said, smiling. 

“i know, it’s weird, she never shuts up about him otherwise,” clarisse added, narrowing her eyes at you teasingly. 

“oh, who could you possibly be talking about?” hannah twirled a piece of hair. she hasn’t even been here, but one doesn’t forget their best friend’s crush of four years in a few months. 

“i do not,” you protested meekly. 

“you knew who we were talking about, though” 

“i spend a lot of time with him, that’s all. there would be a gaping hole if i told you about my day and didn’t bring him up.”

“would you stop pretending as if you aren’t in love with each other, please?” annabeth interrupted. “you’re worse than them, at least they can admit it.” she gestured at clarisse and silena. 

“i am not in love with him, annabeth.”

“you’re always starting at him.”

“i’m in conversation.”

“with your eyes. that is literally textbook romance.” 

“i could so admit if i was into him,” you say, cutting her off. “i admit things like that all the time. i told you i thought jack was cute. you know that kid from demeter?”

“we all know you made that up,” annabeth said, crossing her arms over her chest. silena gave her a light push. 

“don’t be so quick to accuse, annie.” only you and silena ever called her that. “i don’t think she made it up. i just don’t think she’s as into him as she is into him.”

“would you drop it, about luke, please?”

“hey, you said his name, not me,” silena smiled. “but sure. i don’t believe that you’re not into him, but i’ll drop it if you can prove that he isn’t into you.”

your heart sank. you weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought. hannah’s hand rested on your knee, as if she could sense it. 

“how am i supposed to do that? i can’t read minds.” 

“hook up with jack at the campfire.”

“what?”

“flirt with him! you were just talking the other day about how you’re eighteen and you haven’t even had sex yet.” hannah covered annabeth’s ears, to which she shoved her off and glared. “jack’s, like, really hot. i saw you staring the other day.”

“when luke wasn’t around,” annabeth added, one eyebrow raised.

“you want me to have sex with jack?” 

“i’m not saying that. just flirt with him. see what happens. we’ll— she gestured between herself, clarisse, annabeth and hannah— see how luke is doing.” 

“okay, he isn’t going to be doing anything,” you said. “i don’t see what this accomplishes.” but even as you were saying it, your mind betrayed you. you thought for a second and conjured an image of strong arms holding you, soft lips kissing yours with the bonfire light in the background. maybe you were near the beach.

“we’ll see,” silena smiled. 

you didn’t want to go all the way, or anything. you knew that. but… jack was really hot. and sweet. he was always catching little kids falling off of obstacle courses with soft bushes, and growing them flower crowns. it couldn’t hurt to talk to him, see what happened. maybe he’d ask you out, or something. bring you flowers on a date. and you guessed you wouldn’t mind making out with him. 

the campfire roared in the middle of the amphitheater. the only people there were the older campers, and some counselors trickling back in from tucking kids into bed. you had helped luke with the hermes cabin, because he had so many kids to take care of, and you had none. 

you pulled the covers over katie, a girl a little younger than annabeth, who had gotten to camp a few months ago. she was still unclaimed, but with the way she spent all day in the strawberry fields, and the plants tended to shoot up around her, you were fairly sure where she belonged. 

you kissed the top of her head, and stood up, looking around the dark cabin for luke, seeing him kneeling beside a little boy, probably about the same age as katie. the boy sounded like he was crying. 

 “hey, connor,” luke whispered, rubbing circles on the kid’s back. “it’s okay. it’s okay. i get them too.” you realized that the boy must have been afraid to fall asleep. “travis is right above you, he’ll protect you, okay? nothing bad can happen to you here.”

he looked over at you, before turning back to connor. “and we can play poker tomorrow, you’re getting pretty good.”

“are you leaving?” the boy whispered, choking a bit on his tears.

“just for a little bit, kid. i’ll be back soon, i promise. i’ll be here when you wake up. i’m not going to leave you anytime soon.”

“okay,” the boy mumbled. luke pulled the covers over his shoulders, and ruffled his hair before turning to you. 

“let’s go,” he mouthed, gesturing at the door. the two of you crept outside, luke much more stealthily than you, closing the door silently. “god of thieves,” he shrugged, but he didn’t grin as he usually did when he bragged. you didn’t have to ask why, but you played along. 

“yeah, yeah, i know,” you said, rolling your eyes. “can we go now?”

“yeah, ‘course,” he said. he slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him as you walked, and you couldn’t help but think of silena’s words as you rested your head on his chest.

arriving back at the campfire, you pulled yourself away from luke, walking over to hannah. she smirked at you, pulling you in for a hug. 

“you don’t have to do this, you know,” she said. 

“i know,” you replied. “i want to. he’s cute.” 

and he was, you thought, as he led you away from the campfire. you’d sat for an hour, letting the flames dance over your skin as you talked with him. he made you laugh, even blush when he grew a flower out of the stone to tuck behind your ear. when he grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet, you felt dizzy, though that might have been the alcohol. 

as you walked further away from the amphitheater, you spun around in the grass, laughing, and he laughed with you. or at you? you couldn’t really tell, and you didn’t really care. you just wanted to kiss him. you didn’t notice that you weren’t heading near the cabins until he stopped in a little cove at the edge of the forest. 

“why are we here?” you asked, a little dazed. 

“come on,” he said. “you know why.” 

and then he was kissing you. it was messy, and made you kind of uncomfortable, but you told yourself to get over it. you couldn’t expect it to live up to the time luke had kissed you, on a dare, when you were thirteen. nothing would ever live up to that, because you couldn’t have him. he hadn’t even cared when you had left him at the party, talking up some girl you couldn’t really see on the other side of the fire.

you blinked, pulling away from jack. you hadn’t realized as you were thinking it, but you had admitted to yourself for the first time that yes: you did want luke. really, really, wanted him. you pushed back on jack lightly. 

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i can do this right now,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth on the sleeve of your hoodie — luke’s hoodie, that he had given you that night after he kissed you, when you were shivering outside, staring into space because you couldn’t understand what you were feeling. 

“come on, it’s fine,” jack replied, pulling you back into his arms. they weren’t like the arms you were picturing earlier. no, you could admit to yourself new that those had been luke’s. your mind was reeling— you knew that you couldn’t have him, that he would never like you like you liked him, but kissing jack felt wrong. not that you had really been kissing him back. 

“i want to go home,” you said, and you weren’t sure where you meant. back to the campfire, to luke and hannah, back to your cabin? maybe even back to your mom on the upper east side, who you missed every day but couldn’t live with during the year for the sake of your little brother, who was too young to know that he, too, was a son of poseidon. 

“really? you were flirting with me all night,” jack mumbled into your lips. “stay a little longer.” it was true, you had been flirting with him. you figured you could at least make out with him for a bit. you resigned, letting him lower you onto the grass, and reluctantly letting him run his hands along the hem of your shirt. 

hannah was getting worried, and luke could tell. he had forced himself off when you were clearly interested in that demeter guy, who luke knew and was friends with but suddenly hated with all his guts. he had forced himself to be interested in getting the details on silena and beckendorf, which he didn’t really realize he was getting to share with you later, resigning to glancing too often through the flames of the fire at your face, and the way the flames made you look like a goddess. no, he thought. you always looked like a goddess. 

but hannah, who had just arrived back at camp for the summer that morning, was biting her lip, and looking around with a bothered expression on her face, and luke had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, that he needed to know you were safe immediately. 

he walked over to hannah, probably too quickly, and didn’t waste time asking how she was, or how college had been. “where is she?” he demanded, too forcefully. he would have to apologize to hannah later, but he only had one thing on his mind.“what’s wrong?”

“oh. hey, luke,” she said, still in a sort of trance. he snapped his finger away from her face, shaking his head.

“hannah? where is she?” 

she shook her head and widened her eyes. it was clear to luke that you had picked up that habit of staring out at nothing when you were deep in thought, usually not about pleasant things. “she’s with jack,” she said. “they left a little while ago. i just… i don’t know. i should go check that she’s back at her cabin by now.” 

“yeah, yeah we should,” luke grumbled, and started taking the steps out of the theater two at a time in an effort to get out. hannah followed— you had told him that his stress could be contagious. 

you weren’t in your cabin. you weren’t in the demeter cabin either, and the pair of them woke up a bunch of kids as you barged in, which he was sure mr. d would have a lot to say about in the morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

he ran across the basketball court, hannah close behind. 

“i have an idea of where they might be,” hannah said, pointing in the direction of the woods.

“how do you know?” 

“because i showed jack that spot when we were fourteen,” she said, grumbling. luke clearly wasn’t the only one who cared about you. 

“i thought you were gay?” luke questioned, not slowing down. 

“yeah. like i said, fourteen. people explore things, figure themselves out.” gods, she thought, men could be so incredibly stupid. 

they ran faster than ever to the edge of the woods, where sure enough, they found you, lying on a mossy stone with jack hovering over you. luke wanted to run to you immediately, but hannah held him back — no easy feat, but she managed. 

“hold on, romeo,” she strained. “you can’t just barge in there and—” then she heard it— the unmistakable sound of your voice, and the word stop.

“jack…” you mumbled. you were so drunk. you weren’t sure where you were anymore, and you didn’t really remember walking over here, though you knew you had. “jack, we can do this later, i’m tired—” 

“you’re fine, it’s fine,” he said quietly, starting to undo the zipper of your shorts. you reached down to stop him, but he pushed your hand away, and as it hit the stone, moss started growing over it, holding it there. 

“jack, stop it,” you said, more forcefully this time. you realized that he didn’t even know what he was doing, and for some reason that scared you more. he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but he wanted it— he wanted you held down, and he didn’t care that you didn’t. 

he shushed you, but looked up at a rustling in the trees, and a familiar grunt. 

luke broke out of hannah’s arms, but it didn’t really matter, because she had been letting him go anyways. he stormed across the clearing, and while you were still dazed and confused, you couldn’t miss the entirety of jack’s weight being ripped from on top of you, and you thought you saw a fist collide with his face. 

hannah, however, rushed to your side. she didn’t particularly want to see luke end up bloody and beaten in the infirmary, but she had bigger fish to fry right now: namely, you. she tore up the moss, no longer strong as jack’s focus was elsewhere, and redid your shorts for you. there were tears on your face as she pulled you to your feet. 

there was so much noise. jack was shouting at luke, but you couldn’t make out the words. you could hear the music and the gleeful sounds of counselors from the amphitheater, but it seemed worlds away from you. 

as hannah led you out of the woods, much faster than you could really manage, your head began to pound behind your eyes. a splitting pain hit your forehead, and your vision went black and spotty. you stumbled forward, relying entirely on hannah to keep you upright, but one stray tree root took you down. you swam between consciousness and a dark, dark sleep. there was screaming, it was hannah, and then the familiar deep voice of clarisse, barking orders. you thought you heard annabeth’s name, and then two strong sets of arms lifting you up, and carrying you away. 

you woke up at the bottom of the sea. no. that wasn’t right. the bottom of the sea was soft, covered in mud and sand. you tried to stretch your body, hitting plastic walls. as your eyes focused, you could make out cartoon fish swimming entirely too close to your face, and you sat up with a start, splashing water all over a corner of the infirmary. 

a kiddie pool. they had filled a kiddie pool with salt water, and left you in it overnight to soak, like one of those colorful dinosaur toys that grew in water. and the worst part was that it seemed to have worked. you felt brand new, like you had slept for a hundred years, and at the same time followed a very strict workout regimen, taken a juice cleanse and eaten like a king. you groaned, and slipped back under the water. 

you stared at the ceiling, watching wooden beams ripple with the surface of your personal ocean. you wondered if your father ever felt like this is in the pacific, if he could be that big if he wanted to. your camp necklace floated up before your face, crossing a familiar face lurking over you. 

you sat up. cara fletcher, hannah’s friend, held out some nectar. you shook your head. 

“i’m okay.”

she raised an eyebrow. 

“fine,” you sighed, taking the flask and drinking. it did help. you felt like you could take on the minotaur. 

“your friends were here all night,” she said. i kicked them out around ten because they were falling asleep on each other, and i didn’t need any more cracked skulls when they fell off the stools. 

“more?” you asked. she sighed, looking over her shoulder. 

“your boyfriend beat that kid up pretty bad last night,” she said. you didn’t see jack lying on any of the cots, but a head of dark curls lay a few beds down, and the body attached to it did not look to be in great shape.

“he’s not my boyfriend.” you answered quickly, not taking your eyes off of luke. “is he okay?”

cara seemed to make out which he’s you were referring to. “i wasn’t talking about him,” she said. “hannah told me what happened. if you ask me, luke didn’t do nearly enough damage.” 

“don’t tell him that,” you said. “and he’s also not my boyfriend,” you added as you processed her words fully. 

“not yet, he’s not.” hannah said, strolling in with three bagels in hand.

“i thought i told you to go to bed,” cara scolded, taking her bagel. “you’re going to drop dead one of these days.” hannah smiled, ignoring her as he sat down next to her and put her arm around her shoulders.

you glance between them, ideas churning in your mind, but they were quickly interrupted by the bagel being shoved in your face. you had always thought that the harpies must have spent some time in the city— they made a dam good bagel.  

“so.” hannah started. “you are going to tell us everything you’re thinking right now, because i see you looking over at him every two seconds, and don’t think you’re getting out of any of it.”

“i’m eating,” you grumbled. hannah reached to snatch the bagel away, but cara swatted her hand back. 

“she’s recovering.” you stuck your tongue out at hannah. 

“i don’t care,” hannah said. “spill.” 

“look, i don’t even know what happened last night—” 

“because you were really, really, drunk,” she interrupted. 

“do you want me to speak or not?” you demanded. 

“okay. fine. but just so you’re aware, he swooped in and defended you, and beat the shit out of that little asshole, who, just between us, mr. d is fucking fuming with.” trust hannah to get distracted two seconds in. demigod adhd was no joke. “he dragged him to the big house this morning himself, severe concussion and all, and according to lee, chewed him out for about an hour. something about the sanctity of drunkenness and how it is not to be weaponized… even chiron was surprised.” she paused for breath. 

“anyways, the point stands— he,” she nodded her head at luke, “was quite literally your knight in shining armor, and if you still don’t think he is absolutely enamored with you—” and you were pretty sure you heard a cot creak— “then i swear on my mother i will call her down and force her to do something about this because i cannot take it any longer.” 

“he was just being a good person, hannah,” you muttered. “he’s just like that.” 

hannah looked as though she were about to scream, but cara rubbed her hand along her thigh, calming her before she spoke herself. 

“there’s something more than that, isn’t there?” she asked softly, and you thought she was staring directly into your soul. “there’s a reason you don’t think he likes you.”

you hesitated, splashing the water around in your pool and making eye contact with a cartoon fish as you worked up the courage to say what it was you knew you had to get off your chest.

“before last night,” you started, your voice cracking as you spoke, “it was just me thinking i wasn’t pretty enough, or good enough for him. that he wouldn’t look at me because there are so many other girls at this camp who are obsessed with him. and i don't think i realized that i liked him either. but now…” a sob came from the back of your throat, and you looked up at hannah, tears streaking your red face. 

“why would he want me now?” you sobbed.

“hey. stop that,” hannah started. “what jack did to you wasn’t your fault, and everyone knows that.” she was trying to make you feel better, but the news that your pathetic love life was the talk of camp wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“it was, though,” you said quietly. “i led him on. i never told him no that strongly, and i was flirting with him all night. what reason did he have not to think… not to…” you were hyperventilating now, your words coming out in broken syllables. 

“i’m a fucking slut, and now everyone knows it,” you managed. you sank back into the water to slow your breathing, but tears still streamed down your face. 

“that’s bullshit,” came a voice from elsewhere in the infirmary. you could have thrown up then and there. you pulled yourself up by the walls of the kiddie pool, looking down the aisle as luke castellan limped towards you. his scarred eye was bruised and bloodshot, and he had a massive scrape running up his left arm, and that was just what you could see. the tears began to fall faster. 

“luke…” 

you were thirteen years old again, at the top of half-blood hill, holding grover upright. you were watching desperately as he stumbled upward, through the pouring rain, carrying a screaming little girl who was trying with all her might to run back and help her friend. all four of you were sobbing, exhausted and beaten. seeing them all like that was ten times more painful than the gash in your side. 

“that’s bullshit,” luke repeated. you got up from the pool and held his face in your hand, inspecting the bruise. you took the rest of the nectar cara had given you, holding it to his lips, but he pushed it away. “you’re not a slut,” he said. suddenly everything about your conversation came rushing back to you, and it hit you that you had just admitted to him that you were in love with him. 

you turned your head. hannah and cara were gone, slipped out the back door. you turned back to face luke, face red and tears pouring over your skin.

“that wasn’t your fault. you didn’t owe him anything. he‘s disgusting, and deserves to have his fucking dick cut off.” you laugh, despite everything. 

“i think mr. d may have actually taken care of that,” you whispered. 

“good.” you looked at him for a while. his eyes were so beautiful, a deep, deep, brown that reminds you of the otters that hung mysteriously around your upper east side apartment when you lived in the city.   

“why did you have to fight him?” you asked, reaching up to his face again. 

“you were in trouble,” he said. 

“luke.” the tears were threatening to fall again. “you could have seriously hurt yourself. i just… why? why not just pull him off of me?” you needed an answer. you needed to know why, why on earth he had put so much of himself in front of you, in front of jack’s fists.

he looked down at you, a pained expression on his face. “you know why,” he whispered. 

he looked down at your lips, and you shook your head softly. you looked down at your feet. you were so afraid, afraid that he wouldn’t be interested now that you didn’t want… that. from him. yet— that you considered looking up and letting him kiss you.

he shocked you when he wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him, holding the back of your head into the space between his chest and his shoulder. 

“okay,” he whispered. “that’s okay.” then, softer. “i love you.”

you couldn’t say it back. not yet, not now. but you held him tighter, holding on to him like he was the only thing stopping you from falling into tartarus. 

“i’ll be here forever,” he spoke into your hair. and you believed him. 

the hermes cabin hosted a movie night that night. you were watching the incredibles two, at a request from connor stoll, who was currently involved in an intense argument with annabeth over which installment was better.  

“i think i’m going to start calling you that,” luke whispered in your ear. “jack-jack.” you glared at him. “‘cause, you know, your last name’s jackson-” 

“yeah, dude, i got the joke,” you said. you rolled your eyes, nuzzling your head into his chest. you could stay like this for a while, you thought, and as you closed your eyes, you felt him press a kiss to your head — something you had told him was okay. you couldn’t wait to bring him home for a weekend. maybe annabeth, too. you couldn’t help but think she would get along great with your brother.

⭑

a/n: hello loves! i hope you enjoyed this, please please leave any feedback or anything, and let me know if you would like me to continue this story/write more of luke and the reader's past. i hope people enjoyed the little hints at percy! so excited for this reader and to explore all her relationships.

[chemicalpink]

Oxytocin | Jeon Jungkook (M)

 ❂ The Secret Garden

⁂ Hosted by Professor Dia through @bangtansorciere

⤐ AU Type/Trope: Summer Nights Dream - Arranged Marriage AU

⤐ Theme: Mutual Pining + Age Gap

⤐ Kink: begging, exhibitionism, clit spanking, blindfolding, delayed orgasm, overstimulation, light bondage, cum play, impreg.

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut | fluff | humour | frenemies au | nepo babies au

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings/Tags: infidelity, grey-ish morals, horny but vanilla-sih, squirting, oral (f. receiving), slight degradation talk, 10 year gap (JK is in mid 30s), lowkey Yoonmin are a thing, lots of bickering, idiots in love tbh.

Rating: 18+

Summary: You don't ever seem to be able to stray too far away from each other. There's no way to backtrack once it's been set in motion, as long as you're both still breathing, you don't even think of leaving. What would people say if they were to listen through the walls?

A/N: Happy JK day I guess. This piece is- something else. Hope you enjoy! See you in a few days with another fic!

Jungkook has proven to be a heavy sleeper, if the way you are able to roam around his whole penthouse was any indicator of that.

There’s barely any light outside the window as you collect your discarded clothing from around his bedroom’s floor, making quick work of getting it on you before looking at yourself in the mirror, deeming yourself presentable enough to catch a ride home. It wasn’t as much of a secret as everyone else would have thought it would be. Both of you got yourselves a privilege like that. 

It wasn’t even planned as much as you had regularly wanted your hookups to be– something that had been deeply rooted for by your publicist, something along the lines of keeping the family image. Letting loose wasn’t exactly something people like you get the opportunity to do without risking more than there is to win out of those types of situations, so you refrained from it. But Jeon Jungkook was similar to you in that way, although a few years older than yourself– almost ten, as he is in his mid thirties, he too, had grown up in such an elite family, drowned by rules and responsibilities that limited the way he interacted with those around him. The ability to ruin his reputation with a hookup was as much yours as it was his, something akin to keeping a knife at each other’s throats waiting for a misstep to happen. 

It was supposed to be a fun and harmless night out, a bunch of your college friends and yourself going out for drinks and dancing to celebrate all of you getting into your desired Masters’ programmes– you suppose they really had something other than money and power to celebrate for their achievements. 

“You don’t look too happy for someone who managed to get into one of the most exclusive business administration internship programmes” Yoongi casually comments as he reclines himself in his seat, throwing whatever was left of his whiskey back. He had always been like that, quietly manoeuvring his way through, loud about his distaste for the system– you couldn’t help but always have a bit of a wall up around him. He smirks a knowing smile at your hesitation, one that you are never sure if it’s mocking you or himself “You don’t have to be so terrified of me you know? I won’t unnecessarily call you a rich asshole, Y/N. We are friends are we not?”  

You groan at his remark, feeling like perhaps just for today you could leave all care down the drain, allow yourself that much. Yoongi would never be the type to hurt you after all those years– not with everything you had witnessed him put himself through in your college years, yet the what ifs can’t seem to leave your mind. You take a gulp out of your drink, feeling the alcohol burn your throat “Look at them! They actually have something to celebrate! My dad just made a few calls and now I get to shadow Jeon Jungkook in his company duties for my dissertation. I wouldn’t exactly call that hard work, would you?” 

“So perhaps all of us worked harder to get where you are, but whatever work you actually put into it, is all yours, YN” you feel a whine ripped from your throat at that “Y/N, you know, the only reason I’m your friend, over the bunch of other rich kids at our school is because you are actually aware of the privilege you’ve got, and that speaks volumes about you deserving such an opportunity. I can’t even get mad at you for getting it instead of me” 

You feel your cheeks get redder at the thought of him trying to get into your programme only to be disposed of it because of a call your dad made. “God- I’ll quit and give to you Yoongi just-”

He dismissed you with his hand “I’ll be around, I got into Kim Namjoon’s programme, couldn’t ask for a better option, have you seen the man?”

You can’t help but laugh “I don’t know what Jimin would have to say about that”

“He would agree with me, now go ahead and leave me be, go dance a well deserved dance with your friends, Y/N”

 And you had really  intended to do just that at first, at least for the whole thirty seconds walking up to the stage until your eyes caught a much too familiar frame– speak of the devil, Jeon Jungkook.   He wasn’t that much of a party-goer, whatever lame excuse you had already heard tumbling from his lips at one of those high end business dinners your dad is constantly dragging you to– some mix of interests  and being already too old for it, all while the rest of men lounging out and about laughed politely, greying hairs on their heads as they encourage him to  still be young and enjoy life. 

“Didn’t think I would see you on such a low budget scene, are Jeon enterprises doing well?” you stand behind the much taller man, drink in hand and you can almost see the roll of his eyes before he even so much as turns around– your interest in the man is no secret to anyone, not even himself as he constantly declines your offers, claiming the ten year gap to be quite a deterrent, having only stopped once his engagement to a foreign heiress closer to his age was made public. 

“Miss Y/N, I’ll have you know the business is as prosperous as it could be” he’s holding a drink of his own as he signals for you to follow him to the secluded area he had most likely arrange for himself just down the bar, being quick to take a seat right after you did “If anything, it is you I would be surprised to see here”

You try to shrug it off, not really the one to bring up your rather costly upbringings into what you deem your daily life “I’m a college student after all”

“I heard you got into your desired Masters programme, congratulations on that” there’s something else sparkling in his eyes– a way in. Whether he would blame it on the alcohol later on, let you down slowly for the uptenth time, whatever glimmer in his eyes show up as he sips his whiskey, tailored suit begging to be ripped apart, was nothing but a chance you refuse to let go. 

You move yourself closer to where he’s sitting, purposely touching his thighs, rock hard under your touch as you feel him twitch, gaze stoic as usual, one of his large hands finding rest on the small of your back as you lean into him “I’m thinking your place, before any of us put much thought into it”

The man is quick to set up something right there and then from his phone, quickly getting the both of you to your feet, guiding you outside and into an awaiting Mercedes which is pulled up to an all too familiar curb. The walk inside is distinctly Jungkook. Quiet and appeased before the door is slammed closed, hands all over your body, trying to rid the both of you of your clothes. 

The tips of his fingers rest on the back of your dress “Can I?”

“Why do you alway gotta be so poised, huh?” you take over his hands, ripping the fabric, exposing your naked body to him before you’re pushing him into the couch, gesturing for him to do the same “We’re going behind your fiancee Jungkook, treat me like the slut I have every right to be treated like'' 

His lips find yours in the lewdest way possible as you straddle his lap, already glistening folds undoubtedly staining his underwear as you rock yourself against him in need for any type of friction as he grows harder by the second, one of his hands coming to your hips to halt the movement “What is it that you want from me, Y/N”

“Anything” you lean yourself towards him, lips brushing his as your breath fans his mouth and you’re almost sure he could miss the words that tumble from your lips “Everything”

“God Y/N you can’t just go and try to collect all of father’s friends like this, what would your parents say huh?” his hand on your hip has started to redirect your moves against him as he has freed the tip of his cock just enough to let it graze against your folds– barely teasing “I’m ten fucking years older than you are– I am about to be your motherfucking teacher for godsake” 

“Oh-Oh god I’ll have you anyway Jungkook, don’t you- ah, don’t you get that?”

One of your hands comes down to rid him of his underwear, you wouldn’t even need to pump him hard as you position your cunt against his cock, letting barely the tip slip inside, both your hands resting atop of his biceps, feeling his heart thumping against your palms– a dream come true. “Even if it means me getting married and having to fuck you at the weirdest times? Huh? After having told Areum I would stay at the office working late? Wouldn’t you just love for me to fuck you while I blatantly lie to my wife?”

“Ah- fuck Jungkook, yeah” you close your eyes in delight at the way that your hips meet his in an unpracticed movement, letting your mind run wild at the way he seems to really have thought all of through “We could- we could always have the new years’ gala for ourselves, business trips, whatever, just fucking- treat me like the whore I’m meant to be– your whore” 

“What if an article goes out huh? Your father would ruin me” 

His pace picks up and you’re almost left out of breath as you struggle to find the words of whatever thought you try to voice “It’s not like I couldn’t buy off every reporter that could ruin me-us”

“What if Areum were to find us?” You feel him shudder, cock twitching inside you as soon as the words leave his mouth– can’t help but wonder if the thought itself is enough to have him let go inside you.

You open your eyes to look straight back at him, your walls clenching around him at the same time as you feel him starting to paint your walls white, a smile drawn on your face. Checkmate “Oh but isn’t that the best part?”

Monday morning doesn’t seem to come quick enough as classes start once again, not even the breezy morning can seem to scratch the smirk off of your face as you watch Jungkook walk into the lecture building, fitted pants hugging his thighs deliciously, black dress shirt nicely tucked in, hair styled back gently ruffled by the wind– has you wondering just how much greater he would look all fucked out like he did just a few days prior. You can’t help but wonder now that things have settled down and he’s about to be your main tutor– would he fuck you in his office? Leave the door the tadest bit open so anyone could hear, hands all over your body, grading papers long forgotten. 

It’s Jimin’s voice the one that takes you back to reality, incredulously sipping his morning tea “I still can’t believe you ate that”

“Oh I didn’t do the eating, that’s for sure”

“TMI Y/N!”

Jungkook’s Master programme basically consisted of a general lecture– which you are grateful to attend next to Yoongi, along with the evening set apart for the internship and research part of it, quite unsure of just how exactly it would mean, although rather stoic and uninterested, the man himself is the one to pull you out of the questioning.

Class had just been wrapped up as Jungkook found himself collecting his materials, head hanging low, barely glancing your way as he spoke “We can take my car to the office, I’ll just need to have you sign the internship contract and you’re good to go for the day” 

You hum noncommittally, quickly changing the topic, hoping to catch him off guard “Would you call off your engagement if I asked daddy to drop the lawsuit against your company?”

Jungkook is soon looking at you quizzically, glasses barely slipping down his nose “You can’t just say those things out loud, Y/N” He makes do of going back to organising his papers “What if someone hears? And please don’t call your dad like that” 

You stand your ground as you get close to where he’s standing, pressing yourself against the desk “Why? Want to keep the nickname reserved for yourself?”

His eyes glimmer with something akin to want– even if he makes the greatest effort of not looking as affected as you guess he is, even more so as he approaches you even further, lips barely above yours as his fingers keep your chin in place “You’re about to learn how the world moves outside that pretty little head of yours, Y/N”

Day at Jeon Enterprises prove to be much harder than you could possible picture them being beforehand– it was really no secret how Jungkook’s company rivaled your family’s, which would have been expected of him to torture you with work even the slightest, perhaps in terms of personal amusement. 

“Hey Jungkook, I can’t seem to reach the supplier for-” Jungkook clears his throat twice, making you raise your gaze to look at the room you had just entered, fully engrossed on the papers you were holding as part of yet another extremely complex task you had taken upon just to prove it to yourself, eyes falling on the one person that could cause you such heartache– Areum, Jungkook’s fiancee. You’re quick to backtrack and try to mend the correct politeness you’re supposed to keep while working “...sir”

Jungkook’s voice is stern as he sits across from his partner, eyes unable to leave your figure as he does so “It’s fine, Y/N, just leave the papers on my desk and I’ll get to them on due time” 

You can’t even force a smile to paint on your face as you bow down dismissing yourself from the room, retreating in an effort to not let each and every thought about actions and consequences cloud your mind enough to have you messing up. 

“Did daddy’s money buy her a place on your programme?” Areum mentions once the door is closed behind you, a sting to her voice that has Jungkook sighing tiredly “I wonder how many pants she’s gotten into since she got here” 

“That’s my student you’re talking about, Areum” his stoic demeanour is enough to  bring the comments to a halt, even more so as he raises from where he was previously sitting, back facing her as he goes through the papers on his desk “That would be all then” 

The wind picks up as soon as you’re stepping outside the coffeeshop, two containers in hand. You can’t seem to grow accustomed to the brief walk involved in having to come into the office after class hours. The whole debacle seemed uninteresting for the mere twenty minutes it takes to walk from the library to fetch Jungkook’s evening coffee, and into the building. Uninteresting, at least until your phone dings with a message from Jimin as soon as you make it into the elevator. You can’t help the bubbly laugh that escapes your lips as soon as you read the headline to the link your friend had sent. Renowned CEO of Jeon Enterprises, Jeon Jungkook, calls of engagement to heiress Kim Areum via Official Press Release. 

It is no news to see Jungkook hunched over his desk, glasses perched on his nose as he annotates whatever newly finished document has been left on his desk– you can’t help but wonder how exactly does the man manages to keep an unresponsive character even through something as grand as his recent breakup, yet you guess you owe to give it the same amount of importance.

You place the freshly brewed cup of coffee in front of him, apart enough from his documents so as to not cause an accident and you can’t help the words slipping from your mouth, the tingling sensation of hope taking over your whole body “Congrats on the newly found bachelorhood” you make your way to stand behind his chair as he turns around to look up at you with veiled amusement in his eyes, the smallest of smirks on his lips “I’m sure you’ll soon make it back to the number one spot on the ‘Most Seeked After Bachelors’ ” 

Jungkook fixes his glasses before once again turning his back to you, diving straight back into work “Not that it is any relevant” 

You can’t shake the misplaced emotions that the knowledge of Jeon Jungkook being single produces within you– no stranger to the nature of them after the awkward dancing around each other you two had a history of. Can’t even wipe the smile off of your face as lunch break comes around and Yoongi takes a seat beside you in the company’s cafeteria. “Now that you’re technically one of us, and not your rich self, will you be attending the fundraising gala?” 

Just as you’re about to answer, Yoongi’s advisor walks up to your table, nodding in acknowledgement “Ms. Y/N, mind if I steal Yoongi for a few minutes?”

You wave your hands in dismissal “Oh- there’s no need- I’m here as an apprentice too, Namjoon-ssi” 

Attending the fundraising gala is as much of a chore as anything else pertaining to any company duties is– you guess it most certainly loses its sparkle if you’ve been an attendee most of your life. Press conferences, networking, dull tasting finger food and a dash of old money entering a metaphorical dick measuring contest. For years on end the only excuse to attend such things had been the chance of getting to greet and mingle with Jungkook– although unnecessary now that the nature of your relationship had changed, there’s a certain nostalgia that accompanies the act as you quietly bow to him as soon as you get inside, your father long gone from sight. 

“It’s a great way to take advantage of such networking events- standing here in the corner” you point out teasingly at the way Jungkook keeps to himself, nursing a glass of whiskey that is mostly just melting ice by then. 

“Eh I was entertaining myself as I waited for someone” there’s a smile on his lips as he places the glass down on a nearby counter, large hand reaching out for yours, caressing the inner part of your arm, lips pressed to your exposed shoulder as he gets himself closer to whisper in your ear “The downstairs bathroom seems appealing enough for today” 

Your father’s voice can barely be heard from downstairs near the garden, Jungkook’s presence, lips and cologne all occupying the most of your mind as he makes work of ridding you of enough clothes to gain access to your cunt, two fingers quickly lapping up your wetness and spreading your lips enough to insert themselves, a moan escaping your lips that is cut short by his own “Wouldn’t it be disrespectful to interrupt your father’s speech with the way his very own daughter is begging for dick just a floor below, huh?”

“A-ah Jungkook just move or something” His fingers halt their movement as he pinches your clit, earning a hiss out of you, his eyes shimmering teasingly at the way you keep on clutching tighter to his bicep. 

“Oh? What was that? Hands over the counter?” Jungkook barely makes an effort for you to comply, hands resting atop of the marble counter, legs spread as soon as his leg comes in between, cunt raised in the air for his own enjoyment. You can look at yourself in the mirror, feel yourself blush at the image of your exposed body, his figure fully dressed behind you as you rest your head against your arm once he continues his ministrations. You barely register the way he hitches your leg up next to your hand, gaining better access to the way his fingers curl inside you, against your walls as he thrusts his fingers deeper in a faster motion. 

“J-Jungkook just- p-please, I need-ah” 

“Need what, baby?” he retreats his fingers in favour of his palm brushing against your folds, a breeze of cold air has you shivering for a fraction of  a second before he brings his palm forward, slapping your clit twice in the motion, a grunt from him and a whine from you and he’s bringing his hand to spit on it before doing it once again, eliciting the same response from your body, knees threatening to give out “What is it that you need, Y/N?”

“Ah- just please please anything- you” You barely miss the lewd image from the mirror as Jungkook kneels down behind you, lapping up your juices teasingly, not going as far as a teasing kitten lick at your folds before he reclines back, a breath in your voice “I need you, Jungkook, please”

Jungkook buries his face in between your legs, tongue pushing inside you as his deft fingers continue to nip at your clit, esporadically slapping the bud in an effort to work you up harder, movements combined enough to have your juices staining most of his chin, ruining the top part of his tailored suit as he fixes your dress, hoists your leg down and holds you close, completely fucked out as you regain yourself when he plants an open kiss to your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “God, you’re so beautiful like this” 

“I didn’t know you were signing a merger” you try to keep your tone casual as you walk up to your father, club in hand as he stares back at his game– golf had become a family activity for Sundays as soon as you were able to take over some of the company’s assets, serving as the only time you could talk with your dad– or at least as he half listened to you, mind and eyes glued to the ball. 

“Well you would know, had you not disappeared in the middle of my speech back at the gala” 

You can’t help but feel yourself grow warmer at the memory, clearing your throat and hoping your father has got no idea of the implication of your actions “I just thought you hated the Jeons” 

“As much as any other member of our family, sweetheart” Although always rocky, your family and the Jeons’ had always hold a great amount of respect for one another, able to see past petty familial matters and opting to recognise the business abilities that lie within, all the more reason to be certain that rumours were surely spreading out about the merger. Having grown up within such an apparatus, you had become accustomed to how things were supposed to be handled, business first, personal life second. “Jeon Jungkook breaking up his engagement couldn’t have been better timed as we seek for a perfect excuse that won’t cause our investors to grow suspicious”

“I’m not sure I follow, dad” 

“Marry that Jungkook kid, Y/N. I know you’ve got a soft spot for him” he is soon moving on to the next spot with a pat to your shoulder, no room for discussion. 

You don’t even bother to knock on Jungkook’s private office’s door as you let yourself in, finding him reading over documents as usual. There’s no true rage behind your actions, merely– confusion. Surely Jungkook had already known about it. Had to agree to it beforehand. Fucking around was nice, thrilling, the chase between the two, no use denying that you two shared something. Yet the talks on marriage were on a whole other level of whatever it was that you both had built as months went by. 

“So I’m guessing you’ve heard” Jeon Jungkook, poised as ever, barely half an emotion on his face, rids himself of his glasses as he motions for you to take a seat across from him. 

“I had no idea a man in his mid thirties could still be roped into an arrangement” 

“Marrying someone ten years younger– from a rival company, was most certainly not in the handbooks” he ditches his seat to hold himself near where you are seated, hands resting on his desk as he smiles down teasingly “Yet here we are” 

He leans down to hold your chin in between his fingers and you can feel yourself relax at the familiar way his mouth works over yours, the room becoming too stuffed the longer the both of you spend making out, hands working over clothes until they are promptly discarded, his shedded tie taking home around your eyes all the while.

His hands work the wonders you had already been a witness to as you feel a familiar tugging at the bottom of your stomach, only to let out an indignant huff as he removes himself, your orgasm at a grasping distance, taken away from you with a smile on his face; he positions himself on one knee as he slides himself in after pumping himself a few times, slipping a condom on his hardened member,  lips locking with yours, reclining against the cushioned expanse of the chair, your legs kicking up and around his torso as you grant him a better access to thrust into you before he is soon dragging you by your hips to straddle him, his mouth nipping at your breasts as one of his hands comes down to nip at your clit alongside the thrusts of his cock, holding your hips in place before– without much effort, he’s hoisting you up against the wall, thighs around him, a moan escaping your throat  as he continues to fuck into you– you can’t even find yourself being mad at how yet another orgasm is taken away from you at the movement. You don’t even seem to care the way that most of the blinds are drawn– even if you both are so high up it would be nearly impossible to see, the thought is right there. You can already feel your knees buckling before he’s pressing your back into the floor, ass up as he slides into you once more and you feel like it is too much, thighs trembling, sore clit, even as you feel yourself gushing once again at his ministrations. Jungkook is soon enough collapsing against your back, movement still as he finishes off inside the condom with a few deep thrusts, hands caging you in a futile attempt to keep the both of you from collapsing. 

His voice is close to your hair, gentle hands wiping you down even as you can swear you still see stars behind the dark velvety fabric around your head. “Don’t go expecting the work to get easier just because of this, Y/N” he’s helping you up and inside your clothes by the time he presses a kiss on the crown of your head before he retreats to his desk “You’ve got an engagement dinner to attend once you’re done with work for the day” 

You struggle to find your voice, the information barely registering “T-tonight?”

“Keep it up, Y/N, I’m supposed to be the old one between the two” there’s something else in the smile he throws your way, his sight never leaving you even as you cross the door to continue your duties for the day. 

Jungkook’s penthouse living room was packed with people from the office, along with a few familiar faces both from yours and his extended family, time had seemed to pass at an incredibly fast pace as you get congratulated, handed gifts and kept on getting questioned about a story you have yet to come up with. Not even the top tier champagne flutes have seemed to help ease the unsettling yet giddy feeling   in your tummy, feeling especially overwhelmed after Jungkook had delivered your outfit for the day inside a high end luxury brand box at the end of the day in the office, offered you a drive to his home and had gone as far as giving up most of his commodities for you to get ready in record time as he hosted the people that were already making their way to the celebration. 

“You know, when Namjoon said we had a company dinner, I most certainly did not expect to hear my best friend was getting married” Yoongi mentions as soon as you approach him, standingly idly beside a particularly costly piece of decorative art. 

You take yet another gulp out of your glass “You and me both”

Jimin is soon standing next to him, smile plastered on his face as he holds what you can only guess is his upteenth champagne flute “For someone that is being forced to marry a dude 10 years older, I don’t see you complaining much”

“The sex is great, Jiminie” his face is rapidly contorting into a disgusted feature that has you laughing out loud, a pair of hands coming up to hold you close to a body you have come to recognise as Jungkook’s, you barely turn your head towards him to watch him acknowledge the pair in a silent greeting. 

“Mind if I steal her for a second?”

Your hand is on Jungkook’s as he drags you down the hall to a rather familiar room, even as you hear Yoongi calling after you “She’s all yours now!”

It almost feels like a deja-vu, the way Jungkook’s lips are on yours as the both of you stand before his bed. Wandering hands all over both of your bodies, grabbing at all the right and already familiar places, as you separate yourself with a teasing smile on your face “Shouldn’t we wait until our honeymoon?” the mere phrase earns you an incredulous look from the man in front of you “Well- now that I know I’ll be getting one” 

Jungkook throws most of his body weight on you to sent you tumbling into the bed, kissing alongside your jaw as he discards your clothes with your help “God I can’t get enough of you, Y/N”

There’s a teasing glint in your eyes as you push your hips into his, asking for more friction “Then don’t” 

His lips are on yours in an instant, hands gripping yours as he– ever so carefully, secures them above your head with whatever piece of clothing had just been laying around. The dance is familiar in a way it hadn’t been before even after all this time, somehow even more intimate than it had ever been– even as the smallest fraction of your brain processes the fact that there is still a party going on downstairs, the tell tales of music barely reaching you as Jungkook absolutely ravishes your body, his member hard against you as the tip of his cock keeps on teasing your entrance, barely breaching only to be retreated once more “Ah-God Jungkook just put it in!” 

“So desperate for my cock, Y/N” he slaps his member against your clit a few times, enough to have you whimpering, wishing to undo the restraints in your wrists so you could position him and get it on with. He doesn’t seem to be in the more for any more teasing as he starts fucking into you, deep and hard, just the way he mostly does. This time around he doesn’t miss the chance to work himself quickly– you can feel him pulsing against your walls even more so as you clench down on him, earning an almost guttural groan from him as he cums inside, eyes closed, head resting hanging low, a pouty kiss on your lips “Ah- God- I can’t wait to fill you up with our kids”

“Ah- please Jungkook just-” you can’t help the whine that overrides you as some of his cum gushes out, only for him to gather it up and push it back inside with a few languid thrusts. 

The woman sitting across from Jungkook's office's coffee table is well put together– nothing that you wouldn’t have already expected for someone like him. She’s got what seems like a million papers inside binders, a practised smile plaster on her face as soon as she sits down. “So, what type of wedding are we thinking about? Summer weddings are-”

Jungkook takes your hand in his, a mischievous smile on his lips “Next week”

“Excuse me?”

The woman’s mouth is barely hanging from a surprisingly veiled expressing as soon as the words leave his mouth, yet Jungkook– much in Jungkook’s fashion, refuses to relent “I’m marrying Y/N next week”

“Mr Jeon, with all due respect, the costs and availability on such short notice-”

“I’m sure you’re aware, money is not an issue” 

One week later– not a second earlier or later, you’re standing at the altar, gorgeous white dress on your body, hands in your soon to be husband ones as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. 

“...You may now kiss each other.” 

Jungkook’s personal assistant is quiet in the way that she briefly knocks on his office door before announcing herself “Mr Jeon, Y/N’s father is here, per your request” 

“Great, let him in”

Jungkook fixes himself a few times too many as your father takes a seat across from him at his desk, the image quite bizarre on its own, even more so as the two CEOs are seen talking in office hours, a feat not ever foreseen. 

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up at the request– the matters at hand. “You want to marry Y/N?” 

“I’m sure you understand how beneficial such a union would be for the both of us” Jungkook’s infamous poker face slips from a fraction of a second, long enough for your father’s interest to peak at the action as he continues to talk “I’m willing to throw away my three-year long engagement for Y/N”

[siriusleee]

i. hidden caches

Zombie Apocalypse AU | SIMON RILEY x f!READER

↳ SUMMARY: The world is trying to knit itself back together after fracturing apart. You're trying to put yourself back together with it; Simon Riley is just trying to stay alive. ↳ WORD COUNT: 2.2K ↳ TAGS: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of shooting things, mentions of dying. smut to come. canon typical violence to come. additional tags to come as the story progresses. female reader. no mentions of "your name". reader is given a nickname later on. nc-17. ↳ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the lovely anon who asked for a scene from an apocalypse au, and this idea was born. If you'd like to donate to my Ko-Fi (my bed frame broke this week and a new one was $200 I didn't have), I would appreciate it. ↳ TAG LIST: There will not be a tag list for this story, as Tumblr has issues with letting me tag people. To get notifications of updates, please subscribe on AO3 or turn on notifications for my blog.

additional chapters | ao3

The ending had come quicker than anyone expected. The epidemics and endemics and pandemics of the years past had given false confidence to everyone. We survived the last thing, the news reporters had said, gray building beneath their eyes, and we can survive this. Behind them images of towns being devoured played. 

Bodies can decompose in as little as nine days. The first to go is the soft tissue: the eyes, the tongue, the soft flesh of the cheeks. When bacteria and insects are introduced, the flesh breaks down faster. Bones take longer - sometimes years to fully wear away into the dust that collects underfoot. But these things - whatever turned them kept them covered in a thin layer of adipocere to protect them from the elements. They kept shuffling along long past the time when they should have reverted back to a primordial soup where they lay.

But they still decomposed. The trick was to stay ahead of them, away from the gnashing teeth that transmitted the virus, away from the hands and feet that never seemed to tire. So few people could. Whole towns and cities were decimated, felled beneath the hordes of horror that ambled slowly past, swallowed up by the feet that didn’t stop moving until they wore themselves down to stubs, which were them pulled forward by hands and knees that never tired. 

But yours did. The familiar path towards the north was more overgrown this year than in the past. For a few years, there had been wary companions, eyes that lingered until the snow and frost rolled in to freeze the Biters where they stood. But as the years wanned on the crowd grew smaller and smaller until you only caught hints of others moving north: horse prints, trash left behind, the occasional Biter left decomposing in the bushes. 

This year there was nothing. Either you had moved too early or there was no one left. The latter is too terrifying, so you push it away and think about whatever groups may wander through here after you.

The woods loom tall above you, the snow that fell earlier in the morning just barely dusting the branches above your head. None of it had reached the leaves that are too waterlogged from recent rains to crunch beneath your feet. A blister is rubbing itself raw at your ankle; you know that if you don’t stop to treat it, it will be unbearable tomorrow, but you brush the thought off. You need to reach the marker before nightfall.

The markers had appeared between one trip north and your trip back down. 

West Village - 20km

The first year it had appeared left the group you were with in a tizzy. The group had fractured down the middle. If all of you found each other, how hard was it to think that a larger group had finally banned together? Civilization needed to rebuild eventually.

You didn’t trust the shaky scrawl that printed the words, so you had been with the group that refused to go. The next year there was another marker tacked to the first.

Body snatchers. Beware.

It was amazing to you: how well rumors could start and spread without phones or the internet. For months, every person you and your group came across would give the same warning, and ask you all the same questions. Have you seen the body snatchers? Are you the body snatchers?

Humans turned cannabolids. Farms where people were forced to reproduce. Spits with babies roasting above the fire. You wanted to think that it was the stuff of fiction.

In the third year, there was another argument. The group cleaved in half again when the promise of civilization reared its head. Your group had divided again at the markers, disappearing into the thick woods. 

Almost no one survived the winter that year. You’d held the hands of all the dying and covered them under a thick blanket of snow before dividing their possessions up between the remainder of the group. In the end, there were just three of you. And when the winter rolled away you all broke apart, whatever ties that held you all together broken by the cold. 

The next year you were the only one in your camp. 

The markers had become a sort of prayer to you, that one day you’d meet someone else on the road - some scream and shout that there were others out there even if you were too wary to speak to them.

But it’s been two years - the crude paint of the West Village sign fading, the body snatchers warning falling to the earth unceremoniously. The wood started to rot. 

And you were utterly alone. Around you, the sound of nature getting ready for the winter fills in the ever-present silence that usually surrounds you. It’s been weeks since you’d last seen a person: a lone traveler moving in the opposite direction as you. And you’d hid from them, worried that they were the sort of feral people turned into when they were alone for too long - a body snatcher. Worried that you were that kind of feral. 

You know the markers when you approach them like your body’s memorized the number of steps it takes to reach them. Your chest thumps as you approach the spot where they should be nailed to a tree, growing taller into the air each year. Your boots falter against the wet leaves as you approach the place. 

The markers have been repainted. Or at least the West Village one has. This time it’s nailed to a post in the ground; you bend down to inspect the dirt around the post. It’s packed underneath a thick layer of loam - whoever put it up must have put it up much earlier in the year. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. You wonder if any members of your former group are still there. 

For half a second, you think about following the arrow, but before the thought can fully form in your head, you let your feet carry you forward on the path. Just ahead is the rest area you’ve always used. Your tree, one with branches high enough that the only things who can see you are the birds whose nests you disturb, erupts from the ground ahead of you.

You climb up like you were taught; throwing your rope onto the first branch you can physically reach and lash it to yourself. It’s more difficult to climb the tree with your pack and bow, but you don’t want to risk leaving it behind for anyone who may come through after you. When you reach the point where the rope reaches the tree, you pull yourself onto the branch. The blister on your ankle is screaming, but you don’t pause until your hammock is secure and your harness is wrapped around you. The cool wind cuts through the thin fabric of the hammock, but it’s not too cold as you peel back your socks to reveal an angry raw spot crawling across your ankle.

Too tired to do much more, you slide your other boot off, tying them together and then to your pack. The gentle sway of the trees makes your eyelids heavy, and you let yourself drift off into the first good night's sleep you’ve had in a while. 

The bitter cold wakes you up, the wind moving your hammock back and forth gently. The darkness spins above you, clouds backlit by the moon. Not for the first time you think about how easy it used to be, curled up with another warm body beneath the thick blankets - how easy it was to switch on the percolator in the morning and wrap your hands around a warm cup of coffee, how easy -

You press the heel of your hands into your eyes and try to press away the thoughts that are racing through your brain. Remembering the before drives people crazy; you’ve seen how it can eat people up and you refuse to let it eat at you. So you pull your thermal blanket closer around yourself and try to get some sleep.

But the sun rises earlier than you expected and extra sleep never comes. 

It doesn’t take long for you to pack what little you have back in your pack and descend back down. At the bottom you dig out the little bit of jerky you still have saved from the summer months; it’s disgusting, but it’s enough to push you forward to the next place. 

You walk the entire time with your bow in your hand, waiting for some animal to run out in front of you and meet its mark, but the forest is silent today as you push towards the next stop in your journey north, a small nameless village secluded away from the rest of civilization - just good enough to sleep in for the night. 

The sun has just started to sink below the treeline when the village finally springs into view. The blister on your ankle has popped, and you think you can feel blood rushing into your sock, but you don’t dare stop and check; you don’t want the scent of fresh blood to attract any Biters that may be hidden away for now. Your fingers cramp around the bow and your stomach growls. You’d picked a smooth rock up from the ground hours earlier and popped it into your mouth to try and trick yourself into thinking you were eating something, but it hadn’t worked. If anything it made your hunger worse.

There was salvation coming - on your second year coming through here you’d snuck off from the group and buried a cache. Each year you did your best not to touch it unless it was to refill something inside of it, but this year you knew you’d have to empty it. 

You crunch over tire tracks that crisscross over each other on the main road into the village; they’re dry enough that you know whoever managed to scrape up enough gas to drive in and out was gone, but the thought of someone driving up on you made you nervous, and make your steps quicken. If people were driving through here then you needed to be gone before sunlight tomorrow. 

Weary, you push yourself towards the back half of the village to a little two-story you know well. It had been the same house your group, and then yourself, slept in each year on your way to the north camp; in the back, beneath an overturned chair that was slowly rotting with time, your little cache was stored. 

You shoulder your way through the half-rotted back gate and freeze. The chair is tossed to the side, rusted parts puzzle pieced across the ground. And directly where your cache had been buried is a hole, smoothed over from time and rain. 

You could cry if you had any water left in you to cry. So instead you walk numbly into the house - habit making you click the lock on the door even though it’s long since stopped working. The same thick dust that was here last year is still across the floor, so thick your steps don’t even disturb it. You pass through the living area and up the steps. On the landing, you don’t pause - to the left of you is the nursery that’s always been empty. The first few times you’d stopped here the sight of the broken-down white crib and sage walls made something ache inside of you, and you’d learned not to look. It’s better to just let things alone and try to stifle your imagination.

The attic ladder swings down with ease and you test your weight on the rungs before climbing up - any broken bones and you may as well just shoot yourself where you lay. It creaks ominously beneath you but keeps as you clamber through the hole. You let yourself collapse on the floor beside the ladder after pulling it up, and wrapping a rope around the ladder to keep anyone from pulling it down in the night. All at once, hunger and exhaustion pull you down towards the floor. 

You’ll have to shoot something tomorrow and check the well for fresh water. There are still to many miles before you make it north enough to be safe for the winter, and you won’t make it without water and food. 

You try to distract yourself from the cramping of hunger and how little water is left in your jug by peeling your boots off. As you’d thought, the blister had split and bled, but thankfully your sock had caught most of it. 

You clean up the best you can in the dusty light filtering in from the little window that looks out the back garden and wonder who could have known the cache was there. An old group member who spotted you checking it in the past? Or was it a lucky guess, someone who came through after you and spotted the freshly disturbed dirt and came to the right inference?

You try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter as you pull your thermal blanket from your pack and lay down, but you can’t quite convince yourself of that lie. 

[larkspurglove]

Holy moly so the Acheron and Black Swan animated short huh-

Well time to analyse the hell out of it.

First two things I noticed was that every time Black Swan tried to initiate affection of some kind (eg. kissing Acheron’s hand) Acheron pulls away, and also that it seems that Black Swan is leading the dance.

(Note: I don’t know anything about dancing to the point where I’m not sure if the dance they were doing in the video was a tango or a flamboyant waltz so take a lot of my observations about the dancing itself with a grain of salt)

Next is the images in the background of them dancing after Black Swan summons some memokeeper domain thing. (1:48 to 2:02 in the video)

All of them frame her as alone in some way, with the exception of the last image which has her standing next to someone with no discernible features. I wonder if we’ll learn who that is in the new update.

Then there’s the flashback to Acheron killing the Annihilation Gang, which seems to draw the attention of the white haired version of Acheron. It’s at this point that Black Swan is like ‘fuck’ and tries to back out but the white and red Acheron keeps her in Acheron’s memories, now leading the dance and quite aggressively too. (I have to say the way the red, white and black take over as well as the predator and prey imagery was cool as hell, as well as the feathers flying off Black Swan like blood splatters mmmmmm)

The flashes of a swan being killed by a snake mixed with the symbolism of predators chasing prey, to me, tells us two things; Acheron is dangerous, and she’s a killer by nature.

I think what was actually happening during all of those sequences with predators and prey was that Black Swan was being forced to witness the memories of Acheron killing people. I’m pretty sure it’s obvious that the stunt with the Annihilation Gang wasn’t a one off - she’s probably killed a whole lot more people.

What’s also concerning is that a MEMOKEEPER is terrified of Acheron’s memories. If I remember correctly, yes Black Swan does prefer to collect more pleasant memories, but she’s likely seen her share of darker ones too. What exactly did she see that left her physically exhausted by the end of their dance?

As for the brief appearance of IX/The Nihility, I think it definitely confirms that Acheron is an emanator. Hell, I think I can even pin down what faction she belongs to - she’s a Self Annihilator.

Self-Annihilators are people that accidentally wandered into the shadow of IX and as such become weak to its ideals. Self annihilation comes in many different forms, but the one that stuck out the most to me was memory loss.

Self-Annihilators inadvertently draw from the power of IX, making them emanators. I have a feeling Acheron has more direct permission since she’s so strong, or maybe the powers of the nihility are just that good.

Other details/mini theories

Acheron’s eyes here really remind me of our dear friend Something Unto Death but that might be more of a coincidence if anything

You might’ve already seen that acheron, the word, is connected to the underworld/afterlife, and after seeing that she’s likely killed a lot of people, it’s possible she’s a reaper of some kind. There’s definitely a connection between her name and the amount of people she’s killed

The white haired version of her could be withholding her memories to ensure that she doesn’t stray from the path of Nihility

To me everything lends credit to the ‘Acheron is a Mei who never had a Kiana’ theory I have. Also Acheron pulling away from any more romantic affection makes me think that subconsciously she’s loved before but came away scathed

Something about Remembrance, whose followers preserve all kinds of memories because they believe them to be important, and Nihility, whose followers believe nothing matters, being opposites yet being able to co-exist as long as both parties remain cautious…

Anyway I’m extremely excited to see what 2.1 reveals in a week or so eeeeeeeeee

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Memories [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: the case of the self-appointed Fisher King comes with too many sentimental implications and you discover that you and Spencer had more in common than you imagined.

warnings: mention of mental illness and some trauma

A/N: directly based on 2x01 of the series "The Fisher King" part 2

people who might be interested: @c-m-stuff @no-soy-fer @synthsescape @bella-fics @cynbx (if you want to be removed or added tell me!)

To say that you were worried about the case was an understatement, you were actually terrified of what might happen. An unsub holding a hostage, who was also her daughter, and who knew so much about each member of the team, was worrying in itself. But Elle being in a hospital dying, the case being so tied to Reid's life, and you being so stupidly far from knowing where Randall Garner was, was what made you want to throw up everything you'd eaten during your interrupted vacation.

The team, as always, had split up and throughout the investigation you had stayed with Spencer and Garcia to try to crack the riddle, using the man's brain, the woman's internet find-anything skills, and your vast knowledge of the world of codes and literature. During that period you never believed that the doctor's mother would be involved, much less did you think that she would find herself in the… condition she was in. Throughout the time she was there, he treated her sweetly and calmly, but you couldn't help noticing the discomfort that was palpable in the environment. Not that he was ashamed of her, of course, although you figured he didn't visit her very often and it was obviously not her intention for the entire BAU to find out that her mother was a schizophrenic who was in a sanatorium.

You remembered, hours ago, asking Garcia to let you tell the man that his mother was fine when he requested a plane to bring her to Virginia, and all day you had that conversation etched in your mind like a tattoo on your skin.

"Your mom it's ok" you had said, approaching her desk and leaning on it to look at it "Agents picked her up. She's flying here right now” you completed, although he seemed too amused with the piece of evidence that he had in his hand and then you felt the need to say something else “How are you?”

"I feel kind of dumb, to tell you the truth," he replied. Most of the time he avoided looking at you, but you had already gotten used to it “I forgot she used to always read me this poem. And I think that I should have realized sooner than that”

"Why?"

“Nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collects butterflies except for me,” he said, with a guilt-tinged shrug. “People tell me their secrets all the time. Think it's because they know I don't have anyone to betray them to… except… my mother. I... I tell her pretty much everything”

"It’s fine”

“Do you know that I write her a letter every day?”

"That's very nice," you said sincerely, for the idea of the man carefully writing a letter to tell his mother about the day was a sweet image to imagine.

“It depends on why I write her”

"What do you mean?"

“I write her letters so I won't feel so guilty about not visiting her,” Reid added. If it hadn't been for that case, probably you, or anyone, would have known that his mother was hospitalized and you thought it was completely logical that he didn't want others to find out about that part of his life about him, including that he didn’t visit her. Spencer was always available for everything, always working, always alone in his apartment and now that you knew about Diana you understood why. He waited a moment and then finally made eye contact with you, looking somewhat fearful “Did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?”

And when he mentioned that your world fell apart. You understood that this was the reason why he didn't go with her; because he was afraid. You didn't know how to react, at least not at that moment, and you just looked at him sadly, feeling your own heart tighten a little at unfortunate memories.

Although, for work reasons, the talk hadn't gone any further than that, you'd thought about it all along, even now that you were all gathered to put the last pieces together of what you hoped would be a successful puzzle.

"Nevada? So we don't even know what state he's in?” Hotch muttered, already quite frustrated at how fruitless the search was turning out. There was little time left and you all knew it.

“I'll search the tax records, see if he owns any property”

"Excuse me," Diana Reid intervened from the chair next to the blackboard and her son practically jumped to try and stop her.

"Mom, do you know we're..."

“Just before the agents got me from the hospital, a man delivered this to me” she continued, ignoring “It's a photo of a house with an address on the back”

After showing her direction she turned the image and you saw what was a house that looked just like a castle, with illuminated windows, trees around, and a night sky.

“Shiloh, Virginia?”

“That's only 10 miles from here”

"Well, there's no time to waste. Morgan and Reid are coming with me”

"I want to go too," you said immediately. Something about the whole thing gave you a very bad feeling and you wished you could help in any way you could, but you were surprised to see that Spencer was the first to oppose your request.

“We don't want anyone else to get hurt, Y/N,” Morgan added, his voice almost pleading for you to obey Hotch's orders. You were in no position to demand a ride and only agreed because you knew that an argument would only take away valuable time. “We have to get ready. Reid, let's go.”

"I'll be back soon, mom"

"I'll stay with her" you suggested, hastening to take a step towards him, in an attempt to continue your mission to help.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," you said to reassure him. Diana already seemed quite satisfied with the fact that you were going to accompany her and you still didn't know why “Go. And be careful, please."

"I will" he nodded and immediately went after Morgan and Hotch, the three of them leaving the room to carry out the rescue mission. You had your heart in your hand for thinking about what could happen to them and only the woman's voice brought you back to reality.

"I'm glad you're the one who stays"

"Really?" you asked, somewhat flattered to think that she had liked you within a couple of hours of knowing you. 

"Spencer talks to me about you all the time" she confessed and both you and the other two women present widened their eyes in surprise “He said you like literature"

"Yeah, I'd say so," you muttered, trying to smile at her to hide the nervous wreck you were, partly because of concern for your partners and partly because of what she had just told you.

"He's going to be fine, right?"

By God you hoped so. You didn't know what you would do if he got hurt or… he just didn't come back from there.

"Yes, I promise" you managed to say, as serenely as possible to try to keep your companion calm "And if you tell me about your favorite book? I imagine it will be a good one,” you said kindly, taking her arm and leading her to a couch where the two of you could sit. You knew that part of suggesting the talk was to distract yourself from the bleak outlook and thus kill time until the team returned.

Waiting was all you could do.

Diana had talked to you for a while until she ended up finding it more interesting to write in her notebook so you decided not to bother her, although she left you silent and ready for anxiety to grip you tight. After about an hour JJ herself had come to tell you that Elle was safe after surgery and you swore you could have cried with happiness when you found out. So, the pain that stayed in your chest was just from waiting for news from the three remaining agents and when what felt like an eternity passed without receiving any reports you couldn't take it anymore and apologized to Diana to leave the room. with the excuse that you needed to go to the bathroom. You were confident that she would not be a suicidal or aggressive patient, but you still wanted to hurry to get back to her as soon as possible, and when you had barely walked a section of the corridor you met a gangly figure who was already on his way to look for you.

"Rebeca?"

“She's safe” was the first thing you said, making the knot in your stomach finally dissolve “But Randall died. He blew himself up,” he continued, and you thought you wished you had heard a better outcome, even if the man was a criminal “And my mom?”

"Calm. Writing” you assured him, taking a few steps towards him to get a better look at him. He was dirty and what would later be a bruise could be seen on the left side of his face, but other than that he seemed to be safe and sound. "Is everyone there okay?"

"Yes," he breathed out. It was a relief to know that, it was a relief that things were finally over and that no one had been lost.

“I'm so grateful to hear that, Reid,” you said. You stretched your fingers up to his side and ran the tips over the mark that was beginning to form. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"No," he assured you, with a tight-lipped smile.

"Your mother. It will make her happy to know that you're back" you murmured immediately, and tried to go back the way you had come to go tell him, but he held out a hand to stop you "What's wrong?"

"Do you think I could take a moment before going with her?" he asked you and you retraced your steps to face him, still not letting go of his hand. You nodded and he sat on the floor with his legs drawn up and his back leaning against the wall in an attempt to calm down a bit from the adrenaline rush of all the previous events. You dropped down next to him in the same position and looked at his profile, thinking that if you had something to say, now was the time to talk.

“She told me you talk about me all the time,” you ventured, and he bit back an embarrassed smile.

"You weren't supposed to have found out about that"

"So you say bad things about me?"

"She didn't tell you?"

"No" you answered kindly.

"It's a relief"

“So these are definitely bad things, huh,” you teased, pushing your shoulder against his and seeing him shake his head slightly, too embarrassed to admit what he had written to his mother about you. You were silent for a moment as it didn’t seem that he had any intention of getting up to cross to the meeting room, you spoke again "Do you really not want to see her?"

“It's not that I don't want to see her, it's just that dealing with everything sometimes is so… so hard. You wouldn't understand,” he told you, his voice threatening to crack at any moment. You took a deep breath before opening your mouth to reply and the lonely hallway muffled your words, which were barely a whisper.

"What do you know about Alzheimer, Reid?" saying this, he turned a little to look at you, just in case he had misheard, but he realized that now it was you who wasn't looking at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Alzheimer" you repeated.

"Huh, it's a type of dementia that causes problems with memory, thinking, and behavior," he replied, still not quite sure why you were asking, “It is progressive, which means dementia symptoms gradually worsen over the years, and it is also the sixth leading cause of death in the United States. Live an average of eight years after symptoms become apparent, but survival can range from four to 20 years, depending on age and other health conditions. There is currently no cure."

“Have you ever lived with someone who has it?” you exclaimed and he shook his head. It was easier to look directly at you when you were the one who looked away “There are experimental treatments that reduce symptoms, but none are totally effective, appearing early in life in only about 5% to 6% of people. Although there is no defined cause, the genetic factor can affect you if you had a direct relative who suffered from early Alzheimer's” you exclaimed. He wanted to ask you why you were doing this exchange of information, but he thought it impolite to do so, so he just kept quiet "You said earlier that people tell you their secrets because you have no one to tell them to, but I'm sure it's not because that. We trust you because you are kind, understanding, but above all a good friend who we know will never judge us" you took a moment to take a deep breath again, feeling the nervousness running from the tip of your feet to your head and also to gather something of courage "I personally tell you because I am very afraid of starting to forget them"

It all clicked in Spencer's mind in a split second and he wished he was misreading things, searching your gaze so he could identify something that indicated you didn't mean what he was assuming.

"You…?” he started to say, but the question died on the tip of his tongue.

“It was my father. He was barely 35 years old when it all started, it was with the time he forgot to come to his birthday party. I remember it perfectly, he hadn't been feeling well for weeks due to the stress of work and the company decided to run all kinds of tests on him, without finding anything to worry about, so we just ignored it. But the symptoms recurred: he was disoriented, discouraged, sometimes he became aggressive with the family and forgot plans or things that we had told him. When he almost crushed one of his colleagues with a machine that he forgot that he was working, the company decided to give him a permanent break and we began to worry.

»By 36 it was already a fact that it was the beginnings of dementia. The doctors were surprised by the diagnosis because it is not very common to find the disease in patients of his age and for more explanations that we tried to find, we didn’t find any other. They prescribed a treatment that only kept him calm and it got to a point where it felt inhuman to drug him daily, and about two years after he got the diagnosis my mom decided it was better to put him in a mental hospital.

I was only fifteen years old at the time, but I already understood everything perfectly. I went to see him every day, after school, talked to him, read my homework to him, and we watched movies together, which to a certain extent made his illness feel tolerable. The worst thing at that point was that he asked me to watch the same movie as the day before or that he asked me if I was nervous about the exam I had done a week ago" you looked at the man just to make sure he was following the story, which that you verified with the way he was looking at you; fully attentive.

“Anyway, the years went by and it got more and more complicated. Sometimes a nurse had to remind her of my name and at some point my mother just gave up, probably when my father completely disowned her and started yelling all over the hospital that a woman was harassing him in her room. I continued to visit him, but when I grew up and entered the FBI academy my hours were cut down considerably, so in recent years I only went to see him once a week.

»At 42 my father no longer knew that I was his daughter, he thought that I was a nurse doing social service by keeping him company. He talked to me all the time about his family and sadly told me that neither his wife nor his daughter had been to see him for a long time, but I assured him that they had both asked me to tell him that they loved him very much and that they would go soon” silent for a moment, careful not to burst into tears, and prepared to finish the story “He died during my first year as a BAU agent. I saw his decline over the years and even at the end I think he left thinking that his family had abandoned him. I don't talk to my mother anymore, because I think she feels very guilty about me for having left me all the burden of taking care of my father. But every day I feel at peace with myself because despite how painful it was to see him, I never left him.

»Many times I cried before entering the hospital and when leaving, thinking that I had to pretend to be able to spend a moment with the person I loved the most and who was now only a ghost of what my father once was. And it was terrible to look at it and think that this was my future, even to this day. They say that reading is a good exercise to reduce risk and that's why I always carry a book wherever I go, that's why I always want to do new things and that's why I strive every day to solve our cases because I don't know when the last. I have gone to specialists who have told me that there is nothing to worry about and that, if I have it, Alzheimer's could last until I am an old woman, but even so I am afraid every day.

If I really get sick and manage to get old, the most likely thing is that I will end up in a sanatorium, but right now what is worth it are the things I do every day. I'm scared, yes, but it's worth fighting for if I can help people in this job and especially if I can live with people like you.

I know you said that I wouldn't understand, but the truth is that of all the people in this building I can assure you that I am the one who can do it best. I know that you can't bear to see her because you are afraid of ending up with her like her and that at the same time you are so worried that you take the time to write everything about your life to her. I'm probably boring you with all this stuff that you never asked me to tell you, but I just wanted to tell you how important it is that you be with your mom. And more than doing it for her, do it for you.

I would only give you one piece of advice, which you can decide to take or not: don't waste your time, Spencer. Your mother loves you very much, go and talk to her, accompany her, listen to everything she has to tell you and forgive her faults if there are any. Because you don't know about her when it may be the last time you see her, either for your health or for hers”

There was total silence. You hadn't noticed until that moment that your cheeks were already wet from crying and you still didn't dare to look at his face. No person knew that part of you, because after your father got worse you had decided not to talk about it with anyone, so you could say that you were practically giving your heart to that man bruised by the mission a few hours ago. Suddenly you thought that perhaps you had talked for too long or that for him it had no relevance and he had only stayed to listen to you because he was not rude enough to leave you talking to yourself. But while your head was drawing the wrong conclusions, something you never expected happened: Spencer extended his hands to you and wrapped you in a hug.

It only took a bit of effort to make their bodies fit perfectly and he clenched the fabric of your knitted sweater in his fists, tucking his head into the crook of your neck to allow you to lean yours against his golden hair. It was as if all the time you had been destined for that particular moment, fused in that embrace that communicated everything that words could no longer express.

He wasn't the person who loved physical contact the most, all of you had noticed that, so hugging him was totally new to you. The feeling of peace that this brought you had no comparison point and the softness of his body covered you completely.

“I had no idea,” he murmured, the sound of his voice muffled by your skin. And Spencer was being completely honest, because he didn't even imagine that you could fully understand him after having lived through such a tragic story. He had understood many things thanks to your story and he was eternally grateful that he had felt the confidence to tell him something like this, so he also thought that maybe it was his turn to be honest with you "What my mom said is true, I always talk to her about you. I tell her that you are the sweetest companion I have ever had, that you always pay attention to me, and that you make sure that I feel comfortable wherever we go. I tell her that you are strong, that I want to be half as brave as you, and I also tell her that I have never felt affection and gratitude for someone as I feel for you, because you have made these two years different from any other time in my life” his words, whispered so close to you and drenched in so much love, only intensified your tears "And as long as my conscience remains intact, I assure you that if I need to remind you of all the secrets you have told me, I will do it"

That, more than a proposal, was a declaration of pure love that promised to reach many years into the future.

"Maybe we'll even end up in the same sanitarium, you and me, huh?" you exclaimed, with a slightly joking tone "And so I will have the opportunity to know your wonders again every day"

You felt on your neck that you managed to get a smile out of him and that made you smile too. That's when he pulled away so he could look at you.

“I think that… I will go with my mother back to Nevada. I guess we both deserve it, don't you think?" he told you and you nodded with a small smile. He didn't want to leave your side, but you got up first and held out your hand to help him do the same.

“She still has enough lucidity to tell me what your favorite food is. Maybe you should eat with her on the plane” you suggested. You didn't want to rob him of any more time he could spend with his mother, so you just wished him luck and started walking in another direction.

"Y/N, before you go" he called out to you. You were already a fair distance away, but it was enough for you to still speak in a small voice. "You know you're not alone, right?"

You smiled as he looked at you with those eyes that only showed sincerity, and you wished you could encapsulate that moment for eternity.

"I know" you replied calmly "And I trust that now you know it too"

[sleepanonymous]

im trying to get into sleeptoken - one of my friends is dragging me into it and i love it - can you just give me like a huge timeline and lore overlook? im looking around your feed, and im SO confused but also SO intrigued !! would love to hear from you :)

Hi! New fans always make me so happy! I’m glad you’ve been shown Sleep Token and you like what you’ve heard so far! I always recommend this video and this article regarding Sleep Token lore, but… yeah, I will take a stab at a complete timeline for you. I’ll be honest: I never was very into the lore of “Sleep” as much as I was curious about the band itself (which is typically why I recommend the two above sources for lore purposes). I know that much of the lore is from fans’ deep analyses of Sleep Token’s lyrics and not anything official from the band or Vessel. Almost everything is fan-made, so there are a lot of differing opinions—anything official or stated by Vessel and the band in interviews I included. If anyone is interested in my take on the lore, I might make a separate post about that.

This ended up becoming a massive post. Take what you think is massive and then double or even triple it. Fun fact: I aggressively fact-checked this and actually learned some new things about the band myself. I have marked any unverifiable statements and opinions in this post with an asterisk. Due to the band’s secrecy, the sentences with an asterisk are either heavily opinion-based or my best guess at what might have happened during a specific time period. Take them with a grain of salt.

Anyway! I have a problem; below the cut, I am making it everybody else’s problem.

In September of 2016, a video was posted to YouTube. The video was a black-and-white depiction, through short clips and flashing images, of what appeared to be a lone masked man, Vessel, performing a ritual by candlelight. The music over the video, a hauntingly beautiful mixture of indie pop and prog metal, was met with heavy praise from commenters. The description had three links to a new band’s social media and a Bandcamp account. Below the links was the following description:

Sleep Token are a masked, anonymous collective of musicians; united by their worship of an ancient deity crudely dubbed “Sleep”, since no modern tongue can properly express it’s name. This being once held great power, bestowing ancient civilisations with the gift of dreams, and the curse of nightmares. Even today, though faded from prominence, ‘Sleep’ yet lurks in the subconscious minds of man, woman, and child alike. Fragments of beauty, horror, anguish, pain, happiness, joy, anger, disgust, and fear coalesce to create expansive, emotionally textured music that simultaneously embodies the darkest, and the brightest abstract thoughts. He has seen them. He has felt them. He is everywhere. Sleep Token, led by the perpetually tormented, supremely talented Vessel, creates music that brings to the fore our most submerged thoughts and feelings, coaxing them from the desolate, terrifying caves of our subconscious mind.

The band officially formed in April 2016 (The YouTube channel, for reference, was created on April 14, 2016), but things had already been in the works for nearly a year before the uploaded Thread the Needle music video. In July 2015, Vessel came into contact with a talent scout/independent project manager by the name of Tom (I won’t provide his full name since Googling him brings up biased, embellished, and most likely false information about the band and its members).* In 2015, Vessel was already a skilled, trained, and experienced musician with the ability to play several instruments, including the piano, guitar, and bass, and the knowledge to compose and produce his own music. That being the case, Tom introduced Vessel to a drummer, dubbed II, as well as a skilled producer by the name of George Lever.*

On November 10, 2016, a second video was posted to Sleep Token’s YouTube channel, a music video for the masked collective’s second release, Fields of Elation. Much like Thread the Needle, Fields of Elation was met with enthusiasm and praise by Sleep Token’s growing fanbase.

Finally, on December 2, 2016, Sleep Token independently released their first EP, aptly titled “One”, on their Bandcamp page. The EP included Thread the Needle, Fields of Elation, and a new song: When the Bough Breaks. Accompanying the three songs, the band also included piano renditions of all three songs, performed solely by Vessel.

On the last day of February 2017, Sleep Token posted another video to their YouTube channel, a sombre piano cover of Outkast’s Hey Ya. Following the release of “One” and the cover of Hey Ya, Tom, now acting as Sleep Token’s manager, got the band signed to a label called Basick Records.* By May 2017, the band had another three-song EP, dubbed “Two”, already written and set to release that summer. This was announced via the release of Sleep Token’s third music video, Calcutta. By this time, Sleep Token’s manager had gotten a stand-in bassist and guitarist, dubbed III and IV, respectively, for the band’s first live Ritual. This was mentioned at the end of Sleep Token’s first-ever published interview with Louder. You can read it and the accompanying short article here.

On June 17, 2017, less than one month after the release of the Calcutta music video, Sleep Token took the stage for their first Ritual at The Black Heart in London. The band played seven songs live, including the three songs from “One”, Calcutta, two unreleased songs, Nazareth and Jericho from their upcoming EP “Two”, and their cover of Hey Ya. Very little is known about this Ritual. Most online sources seem to not know of its existence at all. The only concrete facts known about Ritual I are that doors opened at 7 pm, it was 18+, and tickets were £8.00 each. It is unclear how many people attended the Ritual; no footage or pictures have surfaced from that evening.

Sleep Token’s second and third rituals were performed in London in October and November 2017. The band opened for Motorpsycho and Perturbator, respectively. Because they were openers, any visual or audio documentation is nearly non-existent, but the band did appear in a few online articles reviewing the concerts.

In this article, author Roger Trenwith wrote the following about Sleep Token’s Ritual II:

“The support act Sleep Token was an odd mix of metal and pure pop, played by a band in horror masks and cloaks. Musically they were somewhat formulaic, in the tried and trusted quiet-loud-quiet-F’KIN LOUD nature of most of the songs, and accompanying theatrics by rote. When they diverted from the formula, they showed some promise, mostly down to the singer, whose extraordinary range made them just about bearable.”

Ritual III was met with similar criticism. This article, written by a much more helpful and open-minded Chris Keith-Wright, stated the following*:

“Remarkably, by the time Sleep Token take to the stage to start the evening off, there’s a very respectable amount of people front and centre to check them out. Perhaps this is due to the up-swell of media attention on the band since their signing to Basick Records and the release of their second EP, cleverly titled Two, that landed this summer. [...] The conceit surrounding the group is that the band are representatives of an ancient deity known only as “Sleep”, and that their frontman is an appointed-one dubbed ‘Vessel’. Whatever one makes of that, the fact is that Sleep Token’s Vessel has a most extraordinary set of pipes. [...] With a lighting show in time with their music and Vessel’s strong, soulful melodic voice featuring some impressive falsetto, they quickly engaged the audience. With the amount of vocal harmonies and extra musical depth that came over the sound system, I have to admit that it felt throughout their set that they were missing a band member, someone who could control and wield the keyboards, samples and electronics in a live setting. Donned with the obligatory cloaks the band produce a strong performance with their points of difference, clearly thought out prior to their live debut only a few weeks before. Their odd masks obscure their faces and during the quiet, vocal-led passages the guitar and bass players stood stock still. It’s simple, understated, but effective, producing quite the spectacle. Sleep Token’s transition between soulful, repetitive vocal melodies and brutal Meshuggah-esque riffery, and after a few songs this formula felt well-trodden. This is unfortunate as on record these transitions between the two disparate styles are far better executed – live there was far too much juxtaposition. Despite this, I and the majority of the growing crowd were transfixed by their performance.”

In March 2018, Sleep Token opened for two Holding Absence/Loathe shows, two bands with which Vessel would later collaborate. By April 2018, Sleep Token had parted ways with their manager and the Basick Records label.* It is unclear if both of these departures were related or amicable. As a once again independent artist, Sleep Token released the single, Jaws, on June 3, 2018, using footage filmed for their Nazareth music video that their previous label did not utilise. Through the spring and summer of 2018, Sleep Token performed their rituals at UK music festivals, further growing their fanbase.

In August of 2018, Vessel gave his second interview to Kerrang! UK. Interestingly, the article refers to the frontman not as Vessel but simply as Him. The main focus is on Sleep Token’s music and the single Jaws, released two months prior. A transcribed version of the article can be found in my Google Drive

Following these successful rituals and the Jaws interview, the band released another single, The Way That You Were, on October 8, 2018, along with its music video on YouTube.

This release preceded the last Ritual the band would perform that year. On October 11, 2018, Ritual XI was held at St Pancras Old Church in London, dubbed the band’s Inaugural Headline Ritual. It’s rumoured that all 120 tickets to the Ritual sold out in seconds. The band performed ten songs in total, including the live debut of the song Blood Sport. It is also worth noting that this is the first ritual Sleep Token performed with an opener being a band called Exploring Birdsong, which would become a staple opener for later ritual dates. Several members of Exploring Birdsong would also later become touring members of Sleep Token as the Choir.

At an unknown date in 2019, Sleep Token signed with a new label, Spinefarm Records. Together, the band and label began releasing music from Sleep Token’s first full-length album, “Sundowning.” Starting with The Night Does Not Belong to God on June 20, 2019, the band methodically released a new song bi-weekly at sundown BST until the record’s full release on November 21, 2019.

Interestingly, Sleep Token’s biography on Spinefarm differs from what the band had previously had in the description of their first two music videos. It is as follows:

Beneath the Sleep Token banner, lies the unique, broad-based vision of one individual – anonymous, silent, masked, armed with a staggering vocal range, a deft touch on the keyboards, plus a live approach that is never less than fully engaged.

While all factual statements to Vessel’s capabilities and talents, it appears that the band and their new label had retconned the lore surrounding them, granting the creation credits solely to Vessel himself. This is further evident by the Kerrang! Interview Vessel had previously given, which was removed from the internet, as well as the band’s Facebook page getting scrubbed of all posts prior to April 2019. Replacing them is a video of Vessel sitting at a piano and removing his mask, reminiscent of what would later happen at The Room Below Ritual in 2022.

Sleep Token would return to the stage on July 2, 2019. During this Ritual, Sleep Token opened for Amaranth and headliner Babymetal. This Ritual is notable because two key stage members, the guitarist IV and the Keyboardist, were replaced. The new guitarist took on the same moniker of IV, and the Keyboardist was replaced with three women from Exploring Birdsong, forming the Choir (or, as fans have dubbed them, the Vesselettes). The Choir was not yet a ritual staple, and there were several festivals and rituals where they did not accompany the band on stage, such as Sleep Token’s first US tour from November 7 to December 15, supporting Issues on the Beautiful Oblivion tour. The replacement for IV, however, did accompany Sleep Token on this tour.

With the release of “Sundowning,” Sleep Token once again gave an interview to Kerrang! UK to accompany an article reviewing the album. The article can be found online here, but no longer has the accompanying interview section. A photo of the original magazine review + interview, and a transcription can be found in my Google Drive.

Returning to the UK, Sleep Token performed several more rituals in late January 2020. Due to COVID-19 and subsequent lockdowns, they did not conduct another ritual that year. Nearly one year after the release of Sundowning, the band released a deluxe version, including new covers of Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody and Billie Eilish’s When The Party’s Over, a piano version of Blood Sport, and a new original song titled Shelter.

Sleep Token would not perform another Ritual until the Download Pilot festival on June 18, 2021. Despite being Sleep Token’s first Ritual in over a year, this festival also had IV replaced again by another guitarist donning the same moniker. The Choir also returned to the stage with Sleep Token, completing the lineup that we know today. This festival was the same day that Sleep Token dropped their new single from their upcoming second album, Alkaline, along with a music video on YouTube.

Another reason the Download Pilot ritual was significant is that it was the first time a spoken message had been given to the attendees of a Sleep Token ritual, not by a band member but by a prerecorded, AI-generated voice. The following text was the message:

Let’s not deceive ourselves There is a reason we are here It follows us wherever we go We were in love We are in love It is what floats above us as we try to sleep It is what stands beside us as we gaze into nothingness It is drowning us It is eating us alive A million outstretched arms in complete darkness They will reach forever Remind me We’re both dying to find out what happens when we die We’re both scared of being We’re both stolen pieces of each other We’re both exploring our own frontiers of grief We’re both just strangers We’re both just particles We’re both so lost in what it means to be lost We’re both a house that remained unoccupied for too long Let’s not deceive ourselves.

Sleep Token released another music video for their upcoming album’s second single, The Love You Want, on August 6, 2021. Sleep Token played the same spoken message before taking the stage at the 2021 Heavy Music Awards on September 2, 2021. On stage, they performed several staple songs from “Sundowning” along with new singles Alkaline and The Love You Want, with the latter including the same dancers from the music video.

Two weeks later, on September 17, 2021, Sleep Token released their third and final single from their upcoming album, Fall For Me. Unlike the previous music videos for the band, this video focused on a single man, whom keen-eyed fans had identified as Vessel, though he was maskless, paintless, and in street clothing. Over the video, words will flash across the screen. When strung together, they give the following message:

The truth is I am due a harsh lesson In truth itself and how bitter it can be  Will you teach me? The truth is, I am ugly, I am inadequate, I am lost, I am no god The truth is, I want to want to live And so do you I just can’t do this any longer I am afraid Are you afraid? I want to understand what it is to let go So for now let me serve as a living drama of your pain If we are to be submerged let us be submerged  Together

One week later, On September 24, 2021, Sleep Token released their second full-length album with Spinefarm Records, titled “This Place Will Become Your Tomb.” This album was the first to find a spot on the UK music charts, reaching #39 for UK Albums.

That following November, Sleep Token had their first multi-date headline tour supporting their second album. They toured with another of their staple openers, AA Williams, and played eight rituals in total throughout the UK.

On November 26, 2021, an instrumental version of “This Place Will Become Your Tomb” was released, stripping all songs of Vessel’s vocals, except for Missing Limbs, which was not included. Surprising fans, just over one month later, on January 2, 2022, Sleep Token released a cover of Loathe’s song Is It Really You? The cover is listed as a collaboration between both bands but is simply (though still beautiful and enrapturing) Vessel singing alongside a piano rendition of the original song.* A year later later, the vocalist of Holding Absence, Lucas Woodland, would also announce that his band had collaborated with Vessel on an unreleased song on his Twitter.

This unofficial announcement accompanies another that was made in March of 2019 by Lucas, who stated in an interview that Vessel assisted Holding Absence with playing the piano in the song Purge.

On March 30, 2022, Sleep Token released an instrumental version of their first album, Sundowning. Nearly a month later, on April 29, 2022, Sleep Token, or rather Vessel and the Choir, performed an intimate ritual at the Lafayette in London. The Ritual was dubbed “From the Room Below.” This performance is one of the most significant rituals for two reasons. Vessel sang and played guitar for the first several songs, then removed his mask and played the rest of the set while sitting at a piano with his back to the audience. The second reason is that Vessel, once again, played an AI-generated message to the crowd of 600 people while he openly sobbed on the piano bench. His full message to the audience was this:

We are here to silently connect. To project ourselves onto one another. We are here to remember. We are here to forget. We are here to worship. Some time ago, I was given a message. It was a message that originated from one of you. Someone possessed by a strong desire to tell me something. The message read very simply: You saved me. I have thought about this message a great deal since. It left me with a feeling that I have somehow been mistaken for someone else. I did not save anyone. I do not believe I have the capacity to save anyone. All I have ever given anyone was a small window into the emotional waiting room of my mind. I do so whilst doing everything in my power to minimise my own vulnerability. In this way, I am selfish. I chose not to give what others can, and yet I am the benefactor of this thankful praise. I experience a great deal of pain in my life. However, I do not believe I have suffered as you have suffered. Perhaps that is another reason why we are here. At the very least, we have all suffered. I would also like to take this chance to tell you something. To love oneself is not the easy task we are sometimes told it is. We are all limited by something. We are all guilty of something. My own path towards a place of greater self-acceptance is paved with the art that I create. It is a path that I continue to stumble down at the expense of everything else. I am nothing without this music. I am nothing without this mask. So, in this sense, the message I received was true, but only in an inverse sense. The truth is I did not save anybody. You saved me.

After this first Ritual of 2022, Sleep Token had a busy year of touring, performing rituals in the UK, for the first time in Australia, and returning to the United States. In all, fifty-four rituals were performed, making 2022 Sleep Token’s busiest year— until 2023.

On January 4, 2023, Sleep Token dropped a new YouTube video, a visualiser for a new song, Chokehold, from their upcoming third studio album, “Take Me Back to Eden.” One day later, on January 5, Sleep Token posted another visualiser to YouTube, this time for the song The Summoning. This song is specifically responsible for Sleep Token’s sudden skyrocketing into the spotlight of modern music. To date (late November 2023), the visualiser has over 13 million views on YouTube, and the song has over 80 million streams on Spotify.

Around the same time as Chokehold and The Summoning were released, Sleep Token also added new merchandise to their store. Among the new “Take Me Back to Eden” themed shirts and pullovers was a crewneck sweater with a poem written in runes. The poem read as follows:

I am hunting something, and in turn, that same thing is hunting me. The beholder, the void beyond. I am the line between. I am the teeth of God.

Sleep Token released six singles for their third studio album: Granite on January 19, Aqua Regia on January 20, Vore on February 15, and DYWTYLM on April 19. “Take Me Back to Eden” was released on May 19. Dubbed the end to a trilogy, Sleep Token’s third album reached a peak point of #3 for UK Albums and #16 for the US Billboard 200. With this success, Sleep Token and Vessel were featured on several magazine covers, but the accompanying articles lacked an interview by the band or their servants.

Sleep Token spent the time between single releases touring Europe, the UK, and Australia. In September of 2023, the band returned to the US, for the first time with the Choir, for a headline tour, using AA Williams as their opener. At every date on this headline tour, a series of interludes were played between songs. All four interludes are below.

Interlude I Mask: They think you fake it Vessel: What do you mean? Mask: When you cry on stage, they don’t think it’s real. Vessel: That’s a reasonable assumption. Mask: Do you fake it? Vessel: No, I don’t. But it is something I do consistently, so if I was a member of the audience, I would probably assume that it wasn’t real. Mask: Do you ever see them crying? Vessel: No, I can only ever see them smiling. That’s good. I want them to smile. Mask: Do you think they want you to cry? Do you think they like it? Vessel: Not as such; I think they just want to know that I am feeling something, feeling what they are feeling, perhaps. Mask: Do you think that this amount of crying is healthy for you? Vessel: I don’t know. But at least I feel something; if I don’t feel anything, then why would I even do this?

Interlude II Mask: Why am I here? What is my purpose in all of this? Vessel: Your purpose is twofold. You protect me from them, and you also protect them from me. Mask: How is it that I serve to protect anyone from anything? That makes no sense. Vessel: In order for all of this to work, there has to be a certain boundary in place. They need to be able to project themselves onto this without anyone else’s identity getting in the way. In turn, I need to be able to show my true self to them in a way that does not compromise their ability to connect. Mask: So that’s what I am? A boundary?  Vessel: Yes. Mask: I don’t believe you. I believe there is more to it than that. I believe you are afraid of something.  Vessel: We are all afraid of something, are we not?  Mask: What is it you are so afraid they will see? Vessel: That I am exactly like everyone else.

Interlude III Mask: Are you afraid of me? Vessel: Sometimes. Mask: Why? Vessel: I think I am afraid of becoming you. Mask: What does that even mean? Vessel: My life is becoming gradually consumed by you. Before long, all that I am will be contained within you. Then, one day, when I no longer wish to wear you, there will be nothing else left. Mask: It seems you have forgotten who you are. Before you had me, you were nothing. All of this artifice, all this pathetic conjecture about your identity, it is nothing but a manifestation of how short-sighted and solipsistic you have become. I lifted you from misery and obscurity. You would be better to become me. You are nothing without me. You always were nothing without me.

Interlude IV Vessel: You. Are. Wrong. In the end, my fractured sense of self was only another piece of fuel for the fire that burns in the eyes of these people before us. They, too, are pained. They, too, do not know who they truly are. They are each stood alone on a stage of their own. And yet, they are here. United by that sense of never truly belonging. They see something beyond their own bleak horizons. And they reach for it. Together. So let us join now. To reflect their joy and to serve as a conduit for their anguish. To swallow their fear.

Though only one month remains in 2023, Sleep Token still has a set of rituals to complete in Germany, as well as their largest venue as a headliner: OVO Wembley Arena, with a staggering 12,500 capacity—tickets sold out in ten minutes when they went on sale earlier this year in June. With the band’s continuous and foreboding statement of “nothing lasts forever,” many fans worried that this would be the last we ever saw of Sleep Token, with everything starting from “One” and culminating to a peak with “Take Me Back to Eden,” only to evaporate into nothing come the new year. Fortunately, several 2024 tour dates have already been announced for Sleep Token, including a tour in Australia where the band will be supporting Bring Me the Horizon and a festival date for the USA in April. Though all we can do is speculate what may come next for Sleep Token, one thing is for certain: This is only the beginning for our favourite band.

[bogleech]

how do you feel about the alien designs in Independence Day

They were a solid concept! Their true form is kind of a generic alien by now, but the idea was that they were in fact also the "greys" who had been abducting people as they studied our world, so you can see how they work as such but were still given a more original look with their cool saucer-shaped heads and tyrannosaurus fingers.

For some reason there are very few images online of the aliens that aren't the action figures, the more recent collectibles, or promo images for some new media. This statue makes it look like the little guys had mouths? They absolutely did not have mouths.

Giving them these huge biosuits was a fun way to have their little tiny pitiful greys and also a scarier more original Gigeresque design. The idea that inside the big terrifying alien is its true form, just a little embryonic guy where its brain should be, wasn't necessarily invented by this movie (things like it kind of generally cropped up in science fiction here and there) but I can't name a specific instance of the EXACT same setup prior to this. It's also a design that, while meant to be completely cool, always read as a bit comical to me because I absolutelly cannot help but read the back of the suit's head as a huge ridiculous "hairdo."

[tsukimefuku]

to be loved is to be changed ❖ nanami kento

summary: after an unexpected talk with gojo, you begrudgingly went to work for jujutsu high. meeting new people and encountering a friend from the past has you wondering how much things might have changed (or not).

tags: jujutsu kaisen, f!reader based off of an oc, soft/implied nanami x oc/reader, students being students, gojo being gojo, nostalgia, fluff, some life contemplation.

wc: 2.9K

notes, etc: i wrote this to the sound of nothing in my way (keane), and i'm editing it to the sound of akatsuki no kodou (unchain). this story came into my mind as i remembered that garfield plushie image that got very famous a while ago (to be loved is to be changed). finally, "majo" means witch in japanese.

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

"Gojo said he has the situation under control," you repeated to yourself, nervously, as the train approached Tokyo. You could see the sunlight darting in between the city's skyline, casting streaks of light over you and the empty seat by your side, occupied solely by your tiny luggage.  "He has it under control."

You sighed, rubbing your own arm in an unsuccessful attempt of self-comforting, just before the train slowly stopped in its tracks. Clenching your fists in knuckle-white balls, you got up, holding your dark green beaten up travel suitcase and making your way out in between hurried people. 

Every step sent a wave of impact up your legs, and you were especially concerned with the fact that you probably forgot to breathe for a few seconds. 

"He's got it under control."

Right after you exited the Shibuya train station, you darted your eyes through the crowd, trying to find him. Your cellphone, already six years ancient, barely qualified as a communication device anymore. The screen, cracked by time and your own lackluster capacity to keep things unscathed, offered little to no support if you needed to text someone. He has the six eyes, you figured, he'll probably find me before I find him, anyway.

And you were completely right.

"It's been a long time!" You heard the unmistakable voice resonating behind you, a playful cadence that vibrated through the air. Turning around, you saw Gojo waving at you, and you waved back weakly — something uncharacteristic for you, always sardonic and well carried yourself. Thing is, you were just still terrified at what Jujutsu High might be once again plotting, and how it could involve you. "How was your trip? Wow, your hair really is big."

"Anxiously ridden, pretty boy. It's been a minute," you answered, stretching forcefully a half smile on your cheek.

Instead of the characteristic pout he'd have ten years ago when you called him pretty boy, his face was covered by a frivolous smile, to which the blindfold only served to enhance its mystery and intentions.

He had changed, and so had you.

He wasn't that boy that saved you anymore.

Neither were you the person he had saved. Not anymore, at least — thankfully.

"Don't worry, everything is taken care of. I've got the car here to take us back straight to Jujutsu High."

Ah, inside the belly of the beast, it seems. Just perfect.

***

As he presented your room where you'd be until you could find an appropriate apartment or flat for yourself, you wondered where all the people could've gone. You saw some students sparring by the track field, but apart from that, the place was uneasily peaceful. 

"It's kind of… Empty around here, isn't it?" You noted. 

"Oh, we have few sorcerers, which is why having you on board will be nice. You can aid Shoko and get some weight off her shoulders. Maybe she'll even ditch the eye bags!" He chirped, jokingly. You huffed from a smile, taking in slowly what it all meant. 

A decade later, after you sworn never to come to Jujutsu High, here you were, ready to work for them.

What a ploy.

"I'll let you get settled. Then, come outside, I'd like to introduce you to the students!"

"Me? To the students? Why?" You inquired, considerably confused.

"Because you will help me in teaching these kids. Maybe you can teach them RCT, because God knows Shoko couldn't even teach me, and I'm something of a genius. Hurry up!" He playfully chanted, waltzing out of the room before you could muster up an answer.

Changed, but not so much, it seems.

After you had splayed your things on your bed, separating all your cans and glass jars, all containing an assortment of different herbs and dried ingredients, you got up, heavy heart rumbling inside your chest, as you realized you'd be venturing around the lion's den for quite some time before you could find someplace else to live.

You quietly made your way outside, innocuous thumps hitting the hardwood floor below your sock covered feet, right before you reached outside and jammed them inside the already beaten up sneakers — that is, if they could even be called that anymore.

You approached the teens, and none of them paid much attention to you as you came silently towards them. There were five of them, and… A panda? What?

Gojo clapped twice, garnering everyone's attention. There were three boys, and two girls.

"Students, please, welcome your new teacher!"

"Hello! Itadori Yuuji!" The pink haired boy chirped, happily.

"Fushiguro Megumi, it's nice to meet you," the brooding one said, bowing politely.

"Kelp."

Say what now?

"That's Inumaki Toge, he's a cursed speech user. He speaks in rice ball ingredients due to his technique," Gojo clarified.

Oh, I see.

"Finally, a woman teacher that might actually teach us something!" One of the girls said. She seemed spunky with her short red hair. "I'm Kugisaki Nobara."

Finally, you looked at the last girl who sat by the stairs, holding onto a staff that had a blade on its tip. "I'm Maki."

You then looked at the panda, and kept staring at him. Everyone was silent for a moment, as you tried to grasp what exactly was going on. 

"I'm Panda," the panda answered.

You were left dumbfounded, but decided to not inquire further, considering it might be rude.

Who the hell knows.

"It's good to meet you, guys. Hope you can learn a thing or two from me. I've lived many things," you concluded, in a somewhat ominous fashion. Your attempt of a joke fell on deaf ears, and they all seemed a little confused, if not slightly taken aback. Yuuji tried a polite laugh, but Megumi elbowed him.

Gojo chuckled, grinning widely as he put his hands on his waist. "Never mind, students. She's like that. That wasn't even the worst thing she's said out of the blue."

He turned his blindfold covered-face towards you.

"You haven't changed at all," Gojo noted.

Except you had.

"Oh, come! There's more that I want to show you before I leave to take care of some things," he then exclaimed, long strides, instantly making his way out from the students without even waving them goodbye.

You followed suit, and accompanied him hurriedly. You were by no means small, but Gojo was enormous, and had what could be called "legs for days". Each step he took, required two steps from you to keep up.

"Hurry, woman!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" You answered, pacing quickly behind him.

You both walked across the track field, went up two flights of stairs, and stopped in front of a red wooden door that made way inside one of the multiple buildings inside the campus. Seemed huge for such a short-staffed personnel.

Gojo knocked on the door three times, and waited around five seconds before effectively barging in unceremoniously.

"Come!" He yelled at you, and you began to step inside.

"Gojo, I was finishing my report about today's mission with Yaga on the phone. You should learn to wait for someone to effectively let you inside the premises after knocking," you heard a so familiar voice say.

"Nanami?" You asked, walking towards the tall blonde man in front of you. You had seen him in Tokyo around four to five years ago, completely by accident, and forgot to get his number on that opportunity. At that time, he wasn't enrolled with jujutsu affairs anymore, and you remember chastising him for it.

Now, he had a pale beige suit on, wore a blue button shirt with a yellow splatter print tie, and had a particularly unique pair of glasses covering his eyes.

"It's you!"

His eyes widened slightly as he said your name.

You nodded. "Yeah. Myself, plus the long hair. It's nice to see you again."

A genuine smile covered your face.

He tipped his head softly, "it's nice to see you again, too. What has brought you here to Jujutsu High?"

You scoffed, looking at Gojo. He lifted his hands, saying, "well, they were up plotting against her, so I just pulled a few strings that basically required her to come here."

You sighed.

"Yeah. They were up to their classic shit, I guess."

Nanami sighed back.

"I see."

"So, about your work here," Gojo began, "given you have very little experience in effectively fighting in the field to exorcize curses, Nanami is being now appointed to shepherd you until you are acclimated!"

"Say what now?" You asked, at a loss for words. Isn't jujutsu sorcery a solo sport? Why the hell am I going to have a partner?

"And who has made that decision? Gojo, you should've informed me about this beforehand. I can't be caught off guard this way."

"What?! I wanted to make a surprise! You guys haven't seen each other in a decade!" He said in his defense.

"Actually, I ran into Nanami by accident around five years ago here at Tokyo, when he was a salaryman," you replied. "He was too good for that, so I gave him a hard time and told him to go back to being a jujutsu sorcerer."

"Huh?" Gojo asked. "Five years ago?"

"Yes" Nanami acquiesced.

"I bumped into him, we had a chat, I took my train, and well, here I am, I guess," you concluded, smiling.

Gojo chuckled, and put his hands in his pockets, realizing the timing.

"Are you sure you still want to complain about shepherding her?" He asked Nanami, with a hint of mischief in his voice.

Nanami sighed, yet again.

"I have no objections on that matter. I'd just like to have been informed beforehand."

"Oh, come on, Nanami. Gojo tried his best to make a surprise, he just disregarded the fact that you clearly hate surprises."

"Hey!" Gojo complained.

Nanami shook his head at Gojo's antics, but underneath his blank facade, you saw the all too familiar amusement he had all the times you picked fun at Gojo.

We haven't changed. Have we?

***

Weeks had passed, and you couldn't live another second like this. You just couldn't.

The long hair getting glued to the back of your neck, sweaty tangles that took eons to brush out, was simply becoming too much of a hassle.

You sat in the bathroom, on the toilet, shortly after your latest mission with Nanami, and grabbed the first pair of scissors you could find inside your own small bag of toiletry amenities — they were for cutting nails, at most, and fit pathetically small inside your palms.

Grunting, you got up and walked towards the mirror of the collective bathroom, ready to start chopping your hair away, because the mere thought that it would still be there in the following hour reveled your body with anticipated discomfort.

At that moment, both Nobara and Maki, two of the students you had been teaching closely these last few weeks, went inside the bathroom. They stopped in their tracks, looking at you, doubtfully, as you held a black lock of hair extended to the side of your head, flaunting the tiny scissors underneath it.

"Sensei, what are you doing?" Nobara asked, genuinely confused.

"I'm cutting my hair," you answered, ready to start trimming.

Maki and Nobara stared at you for a moment.

You sighed.

"Look, I don't know anything properly around here, leaving the campus is usually a pain in the ass for me because I still don't understand how this assistant shenanigans works, and I just need to cut this hair out before I go completely insane." You sighed. "And this manicure scissors are all I have. So I'm cutting my hair."

Nobara and Maki shared a brief look between them.

"Sensei, with all due respect," Maki began.

You looked at her from the reflex on the mirror.

"You definitely are not cutting your hair like that."

"Huh?" You mumbled.

"Look, I have better scissors with me. Let me get them and we can help you. I'm pretty familiar with it, I take care of my hair myself." Nobara offered, approaching you.

You pondered for a moment. "Okay. I really could use some help."

Around an hour had passed since the girls had run into you in the bathroom. They took you back to your room, properly put a towel around your neck, and Nobara chipped away at your rich thick black locks of hair as she and Maki complained about their peer's latest shenanigans. Apparently, Inumaki and Panda were given to stealing their jackets and skirts to run around the campus. You chuckled at the image of that, up until Nobara reminded you she had a sharp pair of scissors to your hair.

After you were finished, you looked into the tiny mirror you had on your makeshift dorm room, and saw the same face from ten years ago, with the same short black hair.

Was it the same, though?

***

You had been feeling specially sad for the past few days. After finishing another mission with Nanami, you both went back to campus, and you had offered him your classic Oka tea, which you both drank many times together in Odate, ten years prior.

The Oka tea, your specialty, the secret recipe of your family — your pride.

However, when you searched through your herbs, dried ingredients and spices you brought, you realized the dried orange was completely missing.

You knew, as well as anyone in your family, that the Oka tea could never miss any ingredient, especially the dried orange slices.

I'm so sorry, Nanami. I wanted to teach you to make some Oka tea today, but I just can't do it without the dried orange slices. It's just not Oka tea without it. You remembered saying.

You weren't usually that attached to recipesto such a personal degree, but being here, in Jujutsu High, elicited so many memories from your past that you felt homesick, and the only way you knew you could taste home back again would be with a warm cup of Oka tea.

Nanami wasn't annoyed at your upsetting at all, and pointed out that recipes really were meant to be followed in order to obtain the best outcome when cooking.

Right now, you were sitting at the tiny kitchen they had for the use of people that lived inside campus, and you felt heartbroken, missing your tea, as you gazed at all the other ingredients you had left on the counter since then. 

There was a knock on the door, and you told the person to come in. It was Nanami, and he carried a plastic bag with him.

"Hey, Nanami," you greeted, slightly disheartened. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

He put the bag over the counter and looked at you.

"I bought us some dried orange slices for you to make your tea."

"... What?" You looked inside the bag, and sure enough, there was a small plastic packaging with some dried orange slices inside it. "Nanami, thank you so much."

"It wasn't troublesome at all, there is a store that sells dried ingredients and similar types of products near where I live."

You smiled at him.

"Well, now I can show you the recipe, then."

He nodded.

"I hadn't anticipated you'd actually be missing any ingredient for this tea, or to not have it already prepared and at your disposal," the sorcerer huffed, amusement and nostalgia glimmering underneath his chiseled passiveness. "I remember you usually tossed into hot water some packets that you, for some reason, always kept on yourself, and it always tasted the same. It was an unexpectedly odd phenomenon," Nanami pointed out, referring to the time you both spent working together at Odate.

"Haven't you heard? I'm a majo."

You poked fun at your own past, when you were shunned, called and treated like a witch by the very people from your hometown.

The faintest hint of a smile covered his face.

After mixing up all the ingredients, including the dried orange slices Nanami had brought you, walking him step by step on how to make Oka tea, you served one cup for each.

The smell was familiar, and you could almost see the snow that engulfed the first two decades of your life falling again all around you.

Then, you took a sip, and you were completely taken aback. Nanami noticed it, and drank the tea too, looking slightly puzzled at his mug.

"It has a different taste" he noted, looking at you. "Was any other ingredient missing?"

You looked at him, then at the mug, then at him again. You were positively sure you followed the exact same recipe you had been making for the past 18 years. It could be the quality of the dried orange slices, but it was unlikely. This was just strange, overall.

Then, you pondered.

"It's not bad, it's just… different."

Indeed, the tea still had no need for added sugars or sweeteners, and had the same everlasting flowery and citrus smell, so characteristic to it. 

"Yes. It tastes very good." Nanami replied, taking another sip, contently. "This would go well with some croissants and jam."

You chuckled.

"Yeah, it would."

"So, what happened? Do you have any ideas?" He inquired.

You shrugged.

"I don't know. It just changed, I guess."

"Hm," he finally hummed, looking at you as you began brushing the nape of your hair with your fingers, smiling at yourself, gazing at the cup of tea.

To be loved is to be changed.

—

End notes:

I wrote this in about a 1-1:30h sitting, and I’m so happy at how it turned out.

If you liked it and could spare some time to leave a comment, I’d be very happy. 💜

[cornfieldsrambles]

ALRIGHT WAKE UP WELCOME HOME FANDOM I JUST REALISED SOMETHING

So Home, right? I think we’ve mostly collectively agreed that Home is evil, or at least is just very unstable and dangerous, and Wally’s kind of trapped with it since, y’know, it’s his house. And we’ve deduced from the “if you can see me then stay quiet” page and the So-Below page that Wally isn’t exactly happy about this.

Or that’s at least the theory I’m going with.

Anyway. I was poking around on the website and saw something… interesting in the description of the show.

(Image ID: A screenshot of some text from a page on the Welcome Home website. The following text is highlighted: “Episodes usually began with Wally introducing the focus or theme for the day before coming across other characters who would join him on his escapades until the end of the day, which would signify the end of the show.” End ID.)

At first I didn’t think too hard about this. Seems pretty standard for the kind of show that Welcome Home was supposed to be, right?

But then I really thought about it.

The end of the day… signified the end of the episode. Presumably, at that point, they would say goodbye to the viewers and each character would go back to their respective home.

Now… bear with me here. Wally was the main character and introduced every episode. He’s very likely the character with the most screen time, and given the number of other characters and settings in town, he’d probably interact with a whole bunch of them during an episode. Even before the rest of the cast would get involved in an episode, he’d still be interacting with the viewers.

What I’m saying is… he’s never alone at any point during an episode.

More specifically… he’s never alone at HOME.

So the only time he is alone at home is when the episode ends, and everyone goes back to their houses.

Now put yourselves in his shoes for a minute. Your house is sentient. And unstable. Potentially evil. It may even be influencing you in ways you don’t understand. So you cherish every moment where you are not trapped inside this terrifying building, completely on your own. You longingly look forward to each sunrise, the beginning of each new episode, where you can step outside the door and see your neighbours again.

How would you feel - specifically, how desperate would you have become - had you been suddenly and unexpectedly trapped in this house for… oh, I don’t know…

…almost fifty years?

This. This right here. This is why Wally has this whole thing about SIGHT. This is why Wally wants to ‘see’ us so badly. Because of how long he’s gone without seeing a viewer. Without any reassurance that he isn’t trapped alone with Home forever.

[fuedalreesespieces]

inuyasha's time on the tree is honestly a subject that fascinates me. imagine you were a kid in the village where this all happened, fifty years ago. you hear rumors of the hanyo skirting around the village, but your parents tell you that miko-sama will take care of it - after all, she's taken care of every demon that's showed on the village doorstep, so this should be no different. and then she dies - the woman you thought was invincible, that everyone told you was invincible, untouchable, dies. she bleeds out surrounded by people, and you hide behind your mother's wrap skirt while you watch the pyre burn, and the smoke pour into the sky. your village's only protector is gone, and in her stead is a little girl around your age, who up until now has only held her sister's quiver. is she able to hold her sister's mantle and all that comes with it? it's a question too heavy for you to think on.

kikyo-sama's murderer - that's what they say he is - is pinned to the tree in the forest. you are forbidden from playing there anymore, but there are days where the ball rolls out of the street and into the foliage, and you chase it over the moss-covered crags until you find yourself there. and at first you're terrified to go any closer, plagued with images of the hanyo stirring to life and attacking you. but he doesn't stir. he doesn't move. he almost doesn't seem to breath, and it is only by the slow rise and fall of his chest, punctured with kikyo's arrow, that you know he must still be alive.

you can't fathom how he still lives.

you ask around. it's a touchy subject, and nobody in the village has anything good to say. the rumors are shrill and inescapable, like cicadas during summer: he charmed her, he bewitched her, he played at being her friend and betrayed her. always, he is the betrayer. you learn nothing from them and there is nothing to unearth. the right people to ask are no longer able to respond. the ones old enough to give you answers speak with restrained anger, rage tightening the skin around their lips. you visit kikyo-sama's grave, leaving flowers with the other villagers, but her empty headstone provides no answers, either.

the hanyo is silent, and the forest grows around him. you had never looked at him before, only knowing his face torn apart in anger and shock, moments before the arrow's magic overtook him. you, against all the chastisements of your parents, and all the recurring tales you've heard of youkai, find yourself at his tree without thinking. and it is his tree, just as it's his forest, because nobody dares to step foot in it. nobody except you. you linger by the generous shade of the trees, watching from a distance, expecting something. but the tree he rests against may as well be a gravestone, too.

you find yourself in the forest doing menial things, like collecting firewood, even though your mother tells you that it's best to avoid treading too far. the trees by the hanyo are too thick for someone as tiny as you to put a dent in, anyway, but you imagine it would be easy work for him - his claws peek just under the fluttering rim of his sleeves, and again you imagine him tearing himself free of his prison and stalking towards you. he doesn't. no matter how much noise you make, his eyelashes lay low, and his body hangs limp, like your sister's rag-doll.

you imagine this may be a mistake, but you continue to make the same choices. perhaps it's the lack of answers, or the childlike curiosity that tethers you back into the forest. maybe it's the fact that while you were able to gaze upon kikyo-sama from afar, you never quite knew her. you admired her as everyone else did, but just like the gods themselves, she was distant. the closest you'd ever been to her was the day of her death, when her mask of serenity broke into a thousand pieces, and she clung to her sister's arm for the first time, begging kaede to follow her instructions. a face of pain, a twin with that of the hanyo's - a thread between them, sewn together by the death itself.

somehow, this hanyo is the last remaining piece of the village's deceased priestess.

you move on with life. you grow older, and get married to someone in the village, and watch your own children get married - but the hanyo is there, just as he was decades ago, as unchanging as a statue. it's an unfair comparison, you think - any statue you've seen is cold and immobile, but the hanyo's blood pulses under his skin, like he's constantly running. though he looks peaceful, you still believe, after all these years, that he could escape at any moment.

but inuyasha doesn't escape. a girl in strange clothes frees him, and when his eyes flash open, you see life enter them again for the first time in fifty years.

[with-love-from-hell]

How they comfort you after a nightmare

Fandom: Obey Me!

Genre: headcanon, comfort

Charaters featured: the brothers

Written for a GN!Mc (you/yours)

Cw: nightmares, panic attacks, anxiety

A/N: I'm up because I had a horrific nightmare and I'm just here calming myself down and trying to stay awake bc I'm too terrified to go back to sleep so I'm thinking of how each brother would comfort their Mc after something like that.

Lucifer

Absolutely wakes up the minute he hears you whimpering in your sleep and tries his best to wake you.

Will carefully wrap you in the softest hug to calm, pressing kisses to your shoulders and whispering soft reassurance that you're safe in his arms

Will probably run a hot bath or shower just to have the sensation wash away any lingering feelings or images from the nightmare (will also hold you the entire time and delicately wash you as he does)

He will let you word vomit the dream to him if you want, he knows sometimes sharing the disturbing images that plague your dreams can help lessen their impact.

If you're too scared to fall back asleep, he will stay awake with you and cuddle.

He'll also play some soothing records and bring you your beverage of choice to relax with

Will offer a game of chess or another strategy game to get your mind off the dream

Will probably involve Barbatos and Belphie to help resolve your dream issue if there is something that can be done about it, because dammit he hates seeing you in pain.

Mammon

He will probably wake up as you're whimpers turn louder and you jolt awake with a scream.

immediately pulls you into his arms and hushes you, reminding you to breathe and reassuring you that he's "got ya."

Will ask if you want to talk about it after you calm down. Hes no stranger to nightmares so he knows sometimes taking about it can ease the pain of them.

Will offer to take a walk with you- no matter how late at night/early in the morning it is, and no matter how tired he is.

If you're too afraid to sleep,, he will offer to distract you by talking your ear off about random shit, watching a goofy movie, or playing a round of cards or pool.

Will gather your favorite comforting junk food to snack on while you do any of these things

He will also try his best to Lull you to sleep by humming and either rubbing your back or massaging your scalp- whichever you prefer

Levi

He is startled when he feels you writhing on top of him, but can recognize you're caught in a nightmare

He will do his best to gently wake you, but he's nervous, so his shakes may be a bit rougher than he intends

He will hug you until you calm down, and may even turn into his demon form to wrap you tighter with his tail for good measure.

He will offer you any plushie or body pillow you want from his collection to comfort you- even the ultra rare ones that only he is normally allowed to touch

Will turn on a video game and play with you, or watch a silly or juvenile anime to help distract you from the dream.

I hc his jellyfish and aquarium lights can change color, so he'll set them to whatever color you find the most soothing (or turn them to an fading pattern so they change colors slowly)

He may even offer to sneak out with you for a late-night/early-morning swim if you catch him feeling especially confident.

Satan

He's probably awake when you start to become restless and whimpering, but he knows that waking up someone from a nightmare can be like waking a sleep walker, so he's very gentle in coaxing you out of the dream.

Will absolutely hold you on his lap, rocking you as you come down from the panic.

Will offer to read to you to distract your thoughts from the dream, and also make you some soothing tea to sip while he does

He will also offer to take you out and pet the cats in the garden as an additional distraction

Makes his bed more comfy for you by stealing blankets and pillows from around the house, creating almost like a fort

He will also hold you in his arms and recite some nice haikus or other poems to you while you try to go back to sleep.

Asmo

Up in an instant due to how light of a sleeper he is and already knows what you need after waking you.

Immediately cupping your face while kissing away your tears

Will draw you a bath and sit in with you while you relax in the basin, as well as play some soothing music and put some nice chamomile and Lavender in his oil diffusor

Get ready for a full on massage and watch the tension from the dream melt away.

He will also get you a nice face mask and give you a gentle mani/pedi

Will give you as many cuddles as you want throughout the night, and will make sure to forgo his routine just this once to ensure you sleep peacefully

will also sing to you to help you sleep if you ask him to!

Beel

Immediate bear hug and begging for you to wake up as he easily recognizes the signs of a nightmare

After you wake up he is reassuring you that you're safe with him, but he knows the pain of nightmares well and how he wishes he could be in your dreams to protect you too.

Will take you to the kitchen and make whatever comfort food you want- even if its a whole fucking meal.

Encourages you to drink a lot of water due to how dry your mouth probably is after breathing so hard.

He will offer to have you accompany him for a early workout to distract yourself (don't worry, if you're not into running you'll be carried on his back)

He will also offer to watch a movie with you or even just do some baking as a distraction.

Calls on Belphie and Lucifer to help with any recurrence of nightmares, wanting to ensure your slumbers are stress-free.

Belphie

Sleeps like a rock so you'd probably have to wake him up and tell him you had a nightmare.

He's familiar with nightmares, but doesn't have them often due to his powers. He has also helped Beel with his nightmares in the past though.

Immediately pulls you down under the covers with him and caresses you gently. Reminding you his arms are safe now and that the dream isn't real.

He's down for a video or board game as a distraction, but may doze off here and there despite trying his best to stay awake.

Would wake up Beel so you have extra support, and will probably offer to watch a movie together as a distraction for you.

Will offer to enter your dreams any time for you to ease the nightmares, depending on how frequently you get them.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Yo! Special delivery! *kicks down door*

So it’s safe to assume that TFP Soundwave has lost Buzzsaw, Ratbat, Frenzy, and Rumble and only had Laserbeak left. One could only imagine how much pain and grief that brings Soundwave but his Carrier codes must be going insane at the sight of humans given that cassettes and humans are ruffle the same height and are chaotic in nature.

I also imagine that his codes go crazy at the sight of children, so~ add Jack, Raf, and Miko to a still grieving Soundwave, who’s protocols are SCREAMING at him that those three cassette sparklings need him.

I LOVE this idea. Thank you for throwing this request at me! Now I have an excuse to write about my fav spy master.

Organic Cassette Sparklings

To Soundwave, his cassettes were his everything. His mind and body belonged to the Decepticons and Megatron, but his spark was only for his little ones. As such the loss of his cassettes one by one in short succession very nearly drove him mad from grief. He was blessed to still have Laserbeak, but she was also suffering from the loss of her brothers.

Soundwave thought time would heal the wounds in his spark, but it didn't. It anything, the pain from the loss of so many of his cassettes grew worse as if time was an infection slowly festering within his shattered self. By the time he arrived on earth, he was so lost that he could hardly think beyond his orders, his sense of being so broken that he couldn't bring himself to care. The only reason he still marched onward was because of Laserbeak, his last remaining cassette. But sometimes even she wasn't enough, sometimes he just wanted everything to end- to return to silence.

On those days he left the nemesis behind and went to the ground to try and shake his thoughts. It didn't work all that often, but it was better than the sickening monotony of his room on the nemesis and the constant problems that always popped up. More often than not he just wandered around the area nearest to the nemesis's coordinates. But after being deployed on a mission on the ground for the first time in centuries, Soundwave found himself stunned as his instincts screamed at him.

Right in front of him were three small organics, human children he knew to be under the care of the Autobots. But as he looked upon their terrified faces and their small shaking forms, all he could see were three cassette sparklings that needed a carrier to protect and nurture them. He would have snatched them up right then and there if it weren't for orders coming straight from Megatron demanding he return. Even then he still hesitated, taking a photo of the children and burning every detail of their forms into his processors for later analysis. And when all was said and done and Soundwave was back on the nemesis, he actually felt alive for once. Laserbeak felt similarly after looking at the images taken of the children. Soundwave wanted to care for cassettes, his carrier instincts demanded it, and Laserbeak wanted siblings. They agreed and soon after threw aside anything not related to finding a way to get the human children in their possession, or at least find a way to gain interaction with them.

It was a difficult thing to figure out, mainly because organics require different care than cassettes, but Soundwave spent weeks dutifully reading parenting books, biology texts, phycology papers, education documents, and medical websites until he felt sure of himself. Then he slowly began accumulating things small organic cassettes would need. Laserbeak did most of the collecting (not that she minded), often bringing soft fabrics, the odd piece of furniture, and enough canned food to last a nuclear winter. Then once they got everything in order, Soundwave made his move, heading to every battle secretly to watch and see if the human children were present or not. And this he did for months until at last the opportunity came, one he did not miss.

Taking care to ensure none saw him, Soundwave snatched up the human children and hurriedly put them into his carrying chamber which he had fixed up beforehand to not be harmful to the children. Then before anyone could react, (Autobot or Decepticon) Soundwave took to the air and returned to the nemesis as if he had never left. Not even Megatron suspected a thing as Soundwave stalked back to his chambers, locked the door, let Laserbeak get settled, and finally pulled the children out.

They were decidedly unhappy if their screams were anything to go by. But Soundwave expected such a response, Rumble and Frenzy behaved similarly when he first took them in as well. Soundwave was accustomed to having to take things slow and let his little cassettes warm up to him. Besides, he had spent plenty of time learning what humans needed. He was feeling fairly confident in his ability to have the children relax around him eventually. And for six whole months, Soundwave had the children in his care, unknown to anyone and kept safely hidden away where only he and laserbeak knew.

Rafael was the first to warm up to Soundwave, caving in around two weeks into being under Soundwave's supervision. Soundwave paid special attention to him due to his need for glasses and his young age. The spy master was very dutiful in collecting food that met all of the nutritional requirements of human adolescents, and he took extra care to ensure Rafael was always able to get to his glasses. He would regularly pat Rafael on the head, ruffling his hair with gentleness reserved for his cassettes. He would teach Rafael bits and pieces of Cybertronian while also ensuring that the boy was taught things the human documents said were normal for his age group. This task was not at all hard considering the relative simplicity of human education, so Soundwave may or may not have thrown a few more advanced subjects into the boy's education as well.

Rafael for his part adapted well to being in Soundwave's care. He learned quickly that no harm would come to him and came to even enjoy being with Soundwave even if he longed to return to the ground and the Autobots. He was fond of Soundwave and took pride in doing things Cybertronian young performed, which always earned him a loving nuzzle from his originally unwanted Cybertronian caretaker. Laserbeak for her part loved to sit with Rafael during his studies and play games with him, mainly some form of ball or a version of chess not too dissimilar from the human version. All in all, Rafael was content, if a little cooped up.

Miko was the second child to crack as she came to find herself enjoying listening to music with Soundwave and being caught before she could escape. While at first it was a desperate bid for freedom, it turned into a game and even a learning experience as Soundwave taught her how to better hide and use her size to her advantage in combat. By the time month three rolled around, she was invested in her studies with Soundwave and regularly sat on his shoulder to listen to music with him, often singing along happily and play fighting with Laserbeak. She hated being cooped up, but she liked being able to watch what happened on the nemesis, even going so far as to suggest funny pranks to Soundwave (who on occasion actually implemented the pranks because it was what his little cassette wanted).

Soundwave always took great care to foster Miko's musical capabilities, teaching her songs from Cybertron and showing her how to play sized down versions of their instruments. And while he did school her in other things, music was her passion and he did not take that from her, instead encouraging it and helping her to channel it into something practical. She was a small organic cassette, she needed a defense, so Soundwave gave her a set of blasters which would hook up to her instrument. Of course he kept it offline or at a low setting, but Miko loved the gift nonetheless. She especially came to love using it in mock battles with Laserbeak who would play dead to give Miko the gratification of victory.

Jack was the last to crack, taking nearly four months before he fully accepted Soundwave's affection. Soundwave took extra care of Jack's emotional state, mainly because it reminded him greatly of Frenzy, his emotionally scarred and battered cassette. He went to great lengths to make Jack comfortable and to help the boy work through his panic attacks and other mental issues. And surprisingly, Soundwave's attempts began to work, even helping Jack gain confidence as he tutored him in all sorts of subjects. Before long Jack was flourishing academically and showing an interest in combat after seeing Miko do so well. Soundwave offered his little organic cassette a set of energon blades in response, ones which he quickly began showing him how to use. And after only a month or so, Jack was proficient in their usage without having anything aside from the school work Soundwave assigned him to do.

Jack came to love simply sitting with Soundwave quietly, watching the security feed with him and sometimes discussing old stories and his problems. Soundwave of course always listened, never speaking up and instead letting Jack vent all his frustrations patiently. In his mind, Jack really was just like Frenzy, a tough exterior with a soft interior personality wise. And just like with Frenzy, Soundwave was patient and offered all the companionship and comfort in the world when Jack felt comfortable enough to speak with him. Laserbeak also came to love having Jack lay against her side as they watched a film or something of the sort, even purring to him when he had nightmares when he fell asleep by accident.

To Soundwave everything was going perfectly. He finally had cassettes to look after and they were opening up to him far faster than anticipated. He was ecstatic. But as will all good things, it came to an end too quickly for his liking when an attack on the nemesis forced Soundwave to put the children in his carrying chamber and hurry out of his quarters. By some means, the Autobots had confirmed that the human children were on the nemesis and they were angry. Soundwave ran for his life as he sprinted down the halls, heading for the upper decks to escape capture and to get his human cassettes to safety. But that was not to be. Before long the Autobots found him, having locked onto the human children's life signal stemming from him.

He tried to fight, but with the children in his carrying chamber, he eventually accepted capture and was dragged back to the Autobot base. When there he was strapped down and interrogated immediately, the Autobots not being nearly as kind as they were known for.

Optimus: Where are the children?

Arcee: What did you do to them!?

Ratchet: If they are dead I can promise you will re-join the Allspark before Primus can hear your prayers.

Soundwave: ...

Soundwave: Cassettes: Secured. Safe.

Sensing his defeat and only wanting his little cassettes to be safe, Soundwave opening his carrying chamber and allowed the children to clamber out in wonder. There were tears, hugs, and tender embraces, but Soundwave watched it all in apathy. He was going to lose his cassettes again... and he wasn't sure he could handle it.

At least that was what he thought until the children explained and fought in Soundwave's defense. The spymaster could only watch in awe of his cassettes as they spoke for him, pointing out that he merely wanted to care for them and that he never so much as touched a hair on their heads with harmful intent. In response to this, Optimus made an offer.

Optimus: Soundwave... you wish to care for the children more than you wish to serve Megatron, yes?

Soundwave: ...

Optimus: If that is true, why not join us? You can care for them without fear here.

Soundwave: ...

Soundwave: Offer: Will be considered.

[hazelune]

look away i'm rambling and have a problem -- these are a collection of my favorite sprite names in hwbm

(by doing some asset ripping, you can extract all the audio and picture files and see the original filenames!! here's some cute names!)

SAT-NYA.png

(meow! meow! she just like me frfr)

SAT-JUGHEAD.png

(for a few very terrifying minutes, i thought this was a Riverdale reference. maybe it is. but also "jughead" is just a term for "a stupid person : LUNKHEAD" according to meriam-webster. so that's a relief, and also very true. love you saturn)

PL-BONK.png

(:p this one is just cute)

A-OWNED.png

(woah. A? most likely meaning Ares -- maybe she was initially going to be called Ares, or perhaps some body in the solar system starting with A (varied moons). but, if it's Ares, it probably implies something about her own comfort/alignment towards Culture. but also if Saturn isn't named Cronus, then maybe i'm just going crazy. but also, yeah she is pretty owned)

LT-HEADLIGHTS.png

(she does look rather like a deer in headlights. very expressive name)

H-GARMA.png

(karma? honorable mention to H-SNARL.png. that one's cute. also H-YELL.png. nearly half of her sprites are angry.)

LTE-NNN.png

(luna terra ending... no... no nut... jk this is when she goes nnNnnnn in her ending)

SE-BBB.png

(saturn does not go bbBbbbb, however. this is when she goes "That's what I said! Also, you're clearly awake so let gOOOoooo". no idea what the e stands for. thought it was LT ending with the above photo, but given this image, that can't apply. idk. the other images seen only in the endings are labelled "CRADLESGRACES_01.png" or "CELESTIALMECHANICS_05.png" as further proof.)

illuminati_confirmed.png

(the best of the small ui elements!!)

char-select_reference.png

(a little reference file! useful for trying to get a hwbm vibe to other things, which i'm tryin to do with my discord currently. plus, a bonus cute drawing of saturn. hewwo. weird that they use a hyphen and an underscore there. but the name isn't particularly interesting. i just wanted to show this off)

that's all i got for now!! the audio files are also cool to look at. i'll probably share my favorites also later, and they also show more of what the unified UI would've been like probably. if you read this, what's wrong with you. but also i love you dearly.

[samobservessonic]

Why do you want to read Sonic the Comic?

The short answer is because it was my intro to the Sonic series as a whole, but I haven’t reread most of it since I was a kid. But I’ll go into a little more detail about that below the readmore, as well as outlining what I will and won’t be reading for this blog

Sonic the Comic issue #80 rewired my brain and changed my life

Now, the first issue of StC that I bought as a kid was #80. I should add a disclaimer here that there was a kid I knew back then who recommended me the comics - she had issues #78 and #79, so I probably at least glimpsed those as well. But #80 was the first issue that I had for myself (and I still have my copy!), so that’s the one that gave me my first impression of Sonic

I’m sure StC fans will know why this issue was a big one and even Sonic fans who have a casual familiarity with StC will probably see Super Sonic on the cover and guess that a lot of stuff happens in this issue… and you’d be right! I’ll save the review for when I actually get to this issue in my reread, but the basic premise is that Sonic goes to visit his friend Porker Lewis on the Floating Island (later known as Angel Island in the games), where the chaos emeralds and master emerald are kept suspended above a giant… hole thing that holds their power (kid me didn’t ask questions, adult me still doesn’t). Sonic fell in this hole and got a full whack of their power, turning him into the evil Super Sonic who’s hellbent on destroying the last person who’d been on Sonic’s mind, who happened to be Amy Rose

The story ends on this cliffhanger and I can pin-point this single image as the reason I got into Sonic in the first place

…Like, look at this!! The art is so cool! What’s going to happen to Amy Rose? Why has Sonic turned into a crazy powerful being who wants to kill her? I have to know more! I have to get the next issue and maybe devote my entire life to this series! Like, Super Sonic looks so powerful and Tails looks terrified of him! But Amy still looks quite calm and collected. Maybe she’s only just noticed Super Sonic zooming into the scene or maybe she’s just composed enough to not be as fearful of him as Tails is. Obviously, even without knowing anything about the series, I could tell that Amy is Sonic’s friend and I want her to be okay. But something about seeing her reaction in this panel made it seem like the “Next Issue: Amy vs Super Sonic!” advertised at the bottom of this page wouldn’t be as one-sided as some might expect it would be And that’s how, on (roughly) 21st June 1996, an 8-year-old who’d just spent their £1.20 pocket-money had their socks blown off by a Sonic comic (Out of curiosity, I looked up where Archie Sonic was at around this time and it was… issue #37! The Knuckles spin-off comics would also be released the month after this. But I wouldn’t know about the existence of either of these until later)

Now, 80 issues into an on-going series is obviously a late point to hop on, but I can honestly say that it never hindered me reading the comics as a kid. Every two weeks I’d get to see Sonic and his friends have adventures and sometimes they’d mention established lore that I might not have known, but it was easy just to write that off as something from an earlier issue and carry on Also, after a certain point, StC started to reprint older stories. Which was both a blessing and a curse, because on one hand it meant that I could catch up with older stories I hadn’t read before, but on the other hand it deprived the issues of newer stories, until the comic would eventually become entirely reprints from issue #185. Even so, I can confidently say that there are probably stories in the first 79 issues of the series that I’ve never read, so I’m looking forward to getting to those on my read-through So, will you stop reading at issue #184? While I intend to read from #1-184, the reprints issues do feature new covers from Richard Elson

Many of which show newer takes on earlier stories, featuring the green-eyed Sonic of the modern era. So while it’s far away now, I’ll most-likely do a post about these covers to conclude my read-through. Although man, looking at #185’s cover in particular puts me right back into being there as a kid, expecting to see new stories, only to open the comic and get entirely reprints…

Will you be reading the non-Sonic stories?

Early on in its run, StC featured stories from other SEGA titles of the time, before committing to being entirely about Sonic. While not to diminish the merits of these stories, I just don’t have the same familiarity with most of their source material that I do for Sonic, so I won’t be reading them. The exceptions being probably the Ecco stories (because I did play Ecco as a kid) and Decap Attack, because Decap Attack was still running after I started reading the comic and I remember enjoying it. But I won’t be blogging about either of these in the same way that I will be the Sonic comics themselves, so you won’t have to skim past posts about loads of other series to get to the Sonic stuff

What about the Sonic spin-offs?

I will absolutely be reading these once I find or make a good reading-order that slots them into their proper place. The above summer ‘96 special was also one of my first StC issues and I remember it fondly

What about the Captain Plunder stories?

Yep! Captain Plunder exists in Sonic’s universe and I enjoyed his standalone stories as a kid, so I’ll be including him in my reread Anything else?

For a time, StC included game reviews and ofc they also had a fanmail and fan art section, like Archie and IDW. For the most part, I’ll only be including small bits of these that I find interesting or relevant, but I won’t be talking about them wholesale. Though I’m sure that a Sonic comic’s reviews of Sonic games will be worth a look at

[ambyandony]

Bruno Buccellati - Monster AU Profile

(hopefully screen-reader-friendly edition with detailed image descriptions)

Bruno Buccellati, something much greater than a human, with more power than you could imagine.

Preface about species type:

In this AU, Bruno is an angel—a Catholic-aligned, Biblical angel to be specific—of the highest order, having inspirations and traits from depictions of both Seraphim and Thrones. The intricacies of Religion in the Monster AU are hard to get into, but as a general idea, understand that most major theistic religions (Judaism, Islam, Christianity, Hinduism, Shinto, as well as many native religions and other theology e.g. Greek, Norse, Finnish) all 'coexist' to an extent, in terms of actual mythological legitimacy. I'm not going to get into all of it, just know that Buccellati being a Catholic-aligned angel doesn't mean there aren't also, say, Jewish-aligned angels. It's complicated. Being a thematic combination of a Seraph and Throne, Bruno's true form is largely incomprehensible to the average human, and he has incredible, yet limited, divine power. He's "from" "Heaven", but unlike what one might expect, he's not much limited by a 'divine law'; he has no strict morals that he must adhere to, and perhaps he doesn't necessarily have a directive on Earth. The circumstances for his existence as he is here are a little complicated, but, simply put; in a sense, he's just here to keep an eye... or several... on things.

Details related to Angelicism:

Forgive me but— he's basically the Aziraphale to Abbacchio's Crowley.

Trying to 'save' or 'redeem' him. He knows there's still good left in him. The, uh, getting him to join the mafia thing is... questionable, but we're not gonna get into all that.

Both Buccellati and Abbacchio recognised what each other was the moment they set eyes on each other. Their energies and auras were clear and visible to each other. Abbacchio naturally turned to retreat initially, but Buccellati recognised the good he saw remaining in Abbacchio and instead of letting him leave, offered redemption. And maybe some part of Abbacchio knew there was good left in him, because he accepted.

He uses his human form most of the time as it doesn't make much sense for him to use his true form when most can't properly comprehend it and it would really just freak people out.

He also has a '''true voice''' to go with the true form. It can't really be effectively described as it's, like his true form, fairly hard to comprehend, but if words had to be put to give a general idea; imagine a voice that is actually a collection of several different simultaneous voices, heavily distorted, completely understandable communicatively despite being so hard to process.

When enraged or when he generally just loses his cool, sometimes the true form will slip through, which often occurs with both visual and vocal distortion, but may also only appear as vocal distortion.

The true voice and form are both pretty terrifying no matter who's experiencing it, especially as he's a high-order angel, thus incredibly powerful.

Sometimes uses a bit of the True Voice intentionally to intimidate people. Most people around who have caught snippets of it generally end up writing it off as "that's just Bruno being Bruno", which, to be fair, it is,

He has an... Aura. I'm not talking about the Stand Aura; he at times appears to have a sort of golden glow around him, particularly around or behind his head. You can actually see it, at least, and the longer you look, the clearer it gets, it's just hard to pinpoint what exactly you're looking at.

If you catch sight of him just out of the corner of your eye, his true form will be perceived instead. But because it's hard to comprehend, it essentially means he can't really be seen at the edge of someone's peripheral (unless the person in question happens to have some kind of special eyesight) and it ends up looking a bit like catching a movement or shadow out of the corner of your eye.

He's an angel, yes, a divine being, not a human. However... he still had his parents. How does that work? Well, sometimes circumstances like this can occur. Sometimes, a baby may fall deathly ill. The parents, helpless to improve the situation by their own abilities, turn to praying for a miracle. The baby isn't given much time left to live, then suddenly, miraculously, recovers, as if they had never been ill in the first place. The child's soul may have been substituted with an angel as the original soul had to move on. The child will be raised as a human, and will watch over their human parents once they have the cognisance to recognise their own true nature; somewhat reminiscent of a less-sinister changeling. This may be the case with Bruno.

Perhaps one of the many reasons he is so opposed to drugs in the way that he is; he was sent to trade places with a human and to protect the human that would raise him, but his human father's death was ultimately caused by drug dealers, and Bruno was thereby unable to protect him in that situation, interfering with his purpose for being on Earth.

Again, yes, he's an angel. But this doesn't mean he must be perfectly virtuous and nonviolent. He unsurprisingly frequently uses violence as a means to an end. While violence isn't typically his first answer to most problems, he will never hesitate when he feels that it IS the answer.

Details about Buccellati:

Generous and welcoming to those in need. Very nurturing and protective by personality. You Do Not Mess With His Men.

Particularly protective of his human men. Humans are so... fragile. Plus, Fugo joined him first, that's his firstborn-

Loves to play up the whole 'angel' thing when he gets the chance. Likes to use the sort of "Old English" equivalent of Italian (so, Latin, I suppose). 'Be not afraid, child...' ...Fugo gets on his case for grammatical errors frequently.

Has an instinct to know when his children men have broken something (generally an object). This generally allows him to show up near-immediately after something's been broken to lecture whoever broke it about being more careful. In some extreme circumstances, it can be used to call on him for backup—preferably, just try not to have the thing you're breaking be your bones.

Being a literal divine being doesn't save him from being a Suburban Parent stereotype. Stupidest dad jokes you've ever heard that are so unfunny that they're ironically funny, and the irony eventually gets lost and they're just ... funny. Live laugh love! Man I Love Fishing! Turn that frown upside down—

It's really hard to sneak things by him. Even when he turns his back, he seems to know if you're doing something you shouldn't be. He jokes that he has eyes in the back of his head... but is he really joking?

Very kind when he can afford to be. Civilians love him! He always finds it so funny when people are like "Thank God you're here!!" or "You're a godsend/blessing!" because he's like... 😏 that's right

Hates drugs! Winners don't do drugs! This hasn't changed.

Oh dear! It appears that this daughter, which is not mine, is a demon! I can fix one of those problems by becoming her new father.

Yes there's Bruabba but it's really more queerplatonic than anything as Buccellati doesn't feel a full grasp of romantic 'love' and Abbacchio isn't ready for romantic love after suffering the kinds of loss he's suffered, so their relationship is blatantly not-platonic but doesn't reach fully into 'romantic'.

He's trying so so hard to control these kids but every day it's just another thing where Fugo's having a mental breakdown and Narancia's eating the asbestos in the wall insulation and Mista is getting way too close to Abbacchio with that silver cross necklace WHO LEFT THE OVEN ON