#you can only put so much misfortune on a single character before I lose my mind

[patolemus]

Currently on my monthly reread of Hold The Day by Daisyapples. It always hurts so much but I can’t stop reading it

There’s just something about 19yo Derek grieving the loss of his family and finding solace in Stiles that does it for me

[ddlcsprite]

Murder warning!

DDLC | Yuri.chr | encrypted file

If you found this note in a small wooden box with a heart on it, then *congratulations!* You are probably the first person to read this. I didn’t really plan on sharing this with anybody, but for some reason I think it’s exciting that somebody out there, a complete stranger, will come across this note and read my story. Someone I will never meet, sharing such a personal bond with me. I’m fascinated that either one of us could die — even as soon as tomorrow — with the other being completely clueless to the fact. To you, my entire life is within this note, and so I will live for as long as your memory can carry me. Writing this, I’m wondering if that makes you feel fascinated or violated. It’s so exciting.

I’m sorry if my story is a bit disorganized, but I’d like to get it down while it’s still fresh on my mind. First, I’ll tell you a little bit about myself. I’m a first-year college girl and have led, by most standards, a pretty unspectacular life up to this point. I grew up in an upper-middle class school district with decent teachers. I did track in middle school and some of high school, and I’ve had two boyfriends. Now, I’m studying for a career in occupational therapy, because I feel the field is undervalued and provides tremendous help to people.

I’m giving you this background because there’s this strange misconception that if you want to kill someone then you’re either sick in the head or you have anger management issues. But, it’s very apparent that I don’t fall into either of those categories. It’s true that most murder cases are in a domestic setting where someone loses control of their anger or something. But the thing is that those people kill under provocation, whether by a singular outburst or by a slow-burning series of misfortunes. Those people kill because in that brief moment, they want a specific someone, for a specific reason, to be hurt or killed.

What I’m talking about is wanting to kill someone for no specific reason, maybe just to see what it’s like. Do you ever get that? I wouldn’t know how others feel, because it’s not something I ever talked about. But I’ve been curious about what it’s like to kill someone ever since I was a child. Not killing anyone in particular, just a random person. It’s always just fascinated me that if I put my mind to it, I can approach anyone, and in five minutes they would be completely gone from this Earth.

But I’ve never done so for a couple of reasons. First of all, for most of my life it was logistically impossible for me to do it without getting caught. I only got my driver’s license a couple years ago, and even then, the preparations would take too much time, definitely stirring suspicion. It was only once I started college that I realized this was no longer an obstacle.

Another reason is that I was afraid of causing harm to too many people. You might laugh reading that, at how hypocritical it sounds. But, let me explain: Why should I feel bad about killing someone if they’re too dead to care? Who would I be feeling bad for? Contrarily, it’s the grief of the living that I’d rather not be responsible for. Because of this, I knew it would take a good deal of research before finding a suitable person to kill, and I’ve never had the means to do so — again, until I started college.

And now, having just experienced it, I’d say it was pretty satisfying in the end. Something I would try again? Probably not, since my curiosity has already been satisfied. It really wouldn’t be the same a second time.

But anyway, if by any chance you’re also curious to kill someone, then you’re welcome to take notes. :)

***

I started a hobby of people-watching soon after I entered college. People-watching is interesting to me because it’s taking one of the infinite extras in your life and turning them into a main character — without them knowing, of course. It’s so easy to forget that every single one of the hundreds of strangers you pass every day has a life story as deep and complex as your own. One thing I noticed about people-watching, and wanting to kill someone, is that you are in more constant awareness of this. When I find a person to observe, their story slowly becomes more clear to me over time, gaps being filled — it really is amazing.

I usually went to grocery stores on weekends and looked around in people’s shopping carts. If I saw something that interested me, I decided to observe the person for a little bit. Of course, since my goal was to find someone to kill, I ruled out anyone who had children or a partner with them. Wedding rings were another tell-tale sign.

So maybe once a weekend, I would find someone who fit my criteria, at which point I would follow them home and note their address. From there, it became incredibly easy to investigate a little bit more; most people have normal work hours, meaning I could spend afternoons going through their mail or looking around in their house. I repeated this with several people (and had one close call), but for varying reasons I didn’t really feel satisfied enough with them to kill any of them.

I started getting a bit impatient and thought that I might just settle for killing the man named Devon, even though I didn’t really want to kill someone wealthy. But then, I came across someone new — someone who just, felt perfect. The feeling only strengthened as I investigated her further, and I knew that she would be the one for me to kill.

A young-looking woman I met at the grocery store, as per usual. She was doing some light shopping with a basket. Her hair was wavy and dark brown, sitting inelegantly on her slumped shoulders and surrounding her tired-looking face. Her bare fingers told me she might be single, but beyond that, my gut was almost certain of it. This woman just seemed so…plain, really. I guess I felt a greater acuity for the personal lives of strangers ever since I started my people-watching. But the way she carried herself, I just got the feeling that if she suddenly died, nobody would be around to miss her. Of course, I still wanted to investigate her a bit.

I followed my usual routine of checking out her place during her work hours. I learned immediately from her mail that her name is Linda Watson. Linda lived in a quiet apartment complex, her mailbox easily accessible right outside her door. Instead of quickly shuffling through it, I decided I could take her mail back to my dorm and return it before she was finished with work (she only lived about 15 minutes from me). I did some research and learned how to open and reseal the envelopes without damaging them, which took some technique along with a hair dryer, rubbing alcohol, and Q-tips.

This made it easy for me to learn a little more about her. Linda was a 33-year-old woman who worked for a small accounting firm — I’d rather not name the place outright. Her birthday was December 11th which, coincidentally, was approaching in a couple weeks. I also managed to find a bank statement that gave me a nice look into how she’s been spending her past month. It was at this point I realized that my assessment of Linda Watson as an extremely plain woman was pretty spot-on, because there was absolutely nothing interesting on the list. A trip to Old Navy, a bunch of Starbucks, something about $40 from Amazon — no restaurants, no movies, nothing that would really imply she was spending any time socializing. That aside, I also found a cooking magazine, so I guess she was into cooking.

Apartments are harder to break into than suburban homes, because there are fewer doors and windows. Every time I got Linda’s mail, I would check the front door and the windows in the back, but they were always locked. This was a bit frustrating because I was really interested in getting into her house. So, I came up with a sort of plan that I thought would be fun, even if it didn’t work.

Last Saturday, I visited Linda Watson’s apartment complex as I would on weekdays. The difference is that this time, I wanted her to be home. I thought it would be interesting to have a conversation with her. If I got lucky, I could take advantage of the situation to discreetly unlock a window from the inside. So, I walked up to her door wearing nothing warmer than a light sweatshirt, and knocked. The adrenaline rush was crazy. I was afraid I might screw something up.

The door opened, and in front of me stood Linda Watson, exactly as I remembered her from the grocery store. It was at that moment, making eye contact for the first time, that I realized I was running the risk of beginning to care about this person. As selfish as it is, I couldn’t kill a person I cared about, even if it’s a 33-year-old woman standing in a doorway with a slightly perplexed look on her face, giving me a reserved “Hello.”

Arms crossed from the cold, I shyly returned Linda’s greeting. I explained that I was walking my dog near the woodsy area behind the back of her apartment, and that he had gotten away. I had been looking for my dog for an hour and was wondering if Linda may have seen him roaming about. Of course, Linda sympathetically apologized for the situation and that she couldn’t be of use to me, but that she would keep an eye out. I wore a defeated expression in response, apologizing in return for troubling her.

It somehow went exactly as I had hoped — Linda invited me inside to warm up a bit with some coffee. I outwardly hesitated before accepting her offer, although on the inside I wanted to jump through the door and hug her for cooperating so well. And that’s how Linda Watson ended up with a 19-year-old girl next to her on the couch — who knows if it was just a nice gesture or if she really has no better way to spend her Saturdays than talking to some kid she just met (who happens to be interested in killing her).

Linda soon learned that my name is Maria (it’s not) and that I attend the nearby community college (I don’t). I was a little bit nervous that she would ask me too many questions because I didn’t have many answers prepared. I was able to steer the conversation toward her, and she was pretty happy to talk. I asked what she does, and she told me that she works for the accounting firm I already knew about, communicating with outside clients and keeping records. I told her I was pretty nervous about growing up. She told me to enjoy college and to make lots of friends because there’s less opportunity once you start working.

When I asked if she was married or anything, she laughed. Of course I knew she wasn’t married, but I wanted to hear more about her love life. She said that she doesn’t currently have a boyfriend (I guess she’s at least had boyfriends, but who knows how long ago). When I asked her about kids, she said she doesn’t want them until she gets a better job. On top of that, she told me that her family has a history of some genetic diseases such as arthritis and depression, which she is afraid to give to her kids.

It’s funny that she mentioned that because when I asked to use her bathroom, I noticed a tube of prescription pills on the sink. It was labelled duloxetine, which I looked up later and discovered that it is in fact an antidepressant. I had a joking thought that maybe by killing her I’d be doing her a favor, but quickly decided I was a terrible person for coming up with that.

The rest of the visit was pretty dull. We talked about food and some other mundane stuff before I eventually made an excuse to leave. I didn’t get the chance to unlock a window or anything like that, but I didn’t really feel the need to go through her apartment anymore. As early as the drive back to my dorm, I was already thinking about how I would best like to kill Linda Watson.

The choice was between effectiveness and fun. I decided to go with fun, because it would be way more satisfying to kind of dissect her as I killed her, rather than just getting it done and calling it a day. Fast-forward one week to December 13th — today, actually. Linda Watson turned 34 two days ago. I made a fun little wager with myself where if Linda was spending her birthday weekend alone, I would pay her a visit and kill her. If she was out or had company, I would stop by next week or something instead.

So this morning, I drove over to Lowe’s and bought an axe. Again, I expect you’re laughing, but that’s also kind of the point. An axe is so kind of cliche and a “movies” thing that I actually thought it would be the most fun. Swinging it at someone and everything, it’s a really entertaining image. They actually had a bunch of different axes, so I picked one that had a good weight but was still light enough for me to swing quickly.

The drive after getting the axe was when the adrenaline really picked up. All that kept going through my mind on the way over was “Wow, I’m really doing this.” Not in a bad way, just like a surprised this is real life sort of thing. I also got this strange rush of recollections of the time I spent with Linda. It was like my life was flashing before my eyes, except it was just the rather mundane hour I spent with Linda — like snippets of our conversations, the sound of her laugh, her facial expressions and stuff.

I also wondered to myself what the crazy serial killers would be feeling at a time like this — schizophrenic delusions? Sexual buildup? I have no idea, but what I felt was kind of like ridiculously alert and numb in the senses at the same time, however that’s possible.

Before getting out of the car, I had the sense to stuff the axe into my backpack to look a little less ridiculous walking across the parking lot. The handle was sticking out, but that didn’t really matter. At that point my heart was pounding so hard I could feel my throat throbbing. I tried controlling my breath, but it’s really hard to not breathe fast when your heart is pounding like that.

I reached Linda Watson’s door and quietly put my ear to it after setting down my backpack. I heard a voice that wasn’t hers — company? No, it was just the TV, mixed with her occasional tapping footsteps behind the door. I actually kept my ear there for a really freaking long time, because I wanted to make absolutely sure nobody was over. Probably 10 minutes of that and a lot of reassuring myself convinced me.

I quietly opened my backpack zipper and held the axe in my hands. My fiercely shaking hands. What the hell was this kind of reaction that my body was making? I told my body to shut up, that it’s no big deal, but of course it wouldn’t listen. It was actually bizarre how much my hands were shaking. It must be the adrenaline buildup. I rolled my eyes at myself and got my hand to rest on the doorknob. If it’s locked, I’ll knock, it’ll be basically the same. I took a deep breath and forced my muscles into action.

I swiftly turned the doorknob. Not locked. In one movement, I opened up the door and slipped inside. Linda Watson, just a few steps away into the kitchen. I see — she was in the middle of cooking. She immediately jumped and turned around, startled. I expected that. Quickly, I let go of the doorknob and adjusted the axe into both hands. In the following split second, I realized that she would probably start to make a lot of noise. Looking back, I’m an idiot for not considering that. Just as Linda’s mouth opened to speak — maybe even started speaking — I forcefully swung my axe into the side of her head.

But, my axe was facing backwards. I hit her with the blunt end of the blade. I actually did this on purpose, because in that split second I somehow decided that it would be the way to keep her noise to a minimum. It actually worked. I felt barely any resistance in the swing as I collided with her head, knocking it clean aside. Linda’s half-formed syllable came out as a kind of weird grunt — a noisy exhalation is probably the best I could describe it. That happened at the same time as her head smacked into the cabinet from the force, and she fell backwards without any ability to keep her balance. I didn’t hesitate at all to keep swinging at her while she was half lying down on the ground, this time my axe facing the right way. I didn’t really know where to swing, so I kind of just started hacking at her collarbone area and chest. It didn’t feel like the axe was going too deep, but there was a nice “thunk” sort of sound every time the axe embedded into her. I even felt the soft sinking sensation ripple into my hands, like the axe was a kind of physical extension of my sense of touch.

On a whim, I swung once at her throat, but most of the swing actually missed and I hit the floor by accident, causing a loud, dull whack to resonate through the apartment. I didn’t have time to think about it. I swung again with better aim and got a more centered hit, feeling the bone or cartilage or whatever is in there, so I must have split it open. Right after that, I decided to swing at her face, and I got this diagonal cut along her nose and mouth, which felt pretty good so I did it once more.

I finally briefly stopped to survey the damage. Linda was bleeding ridiculously. The blood was kind of coming out in waves, in sync with her beating heart, probably. It was pooling all around her and riding along the cracks between the tiles. Her light blue shirt was all torn up and stained dark, kind of mixed with a fleshy mess around her chest. It was all just glistening red. Her face wasn’t much better, covered in dripping red at this point, and her lip was kind of hanging off, revealing red-stained teeth in a really weird way, like a zombie or something.

Linda wasn’t dead, though. Her limbs were kind of weakly, aimlessly trying to move while she was stuck on her back. More than anything, she reminded me of a bug that you crush but it still pitifully moves its legs around before it dies completely. That’s basically what she was doing. But I didn’t know how long it would take for her to die, or what kind of condition she was in. I ended up grabbing a big knife that was on the counter that she was using to cut up meat. Trying to step around the blood, I reached down and carved into the upper half of her neck, trying to sort of saw it from the left side to the right. It was a little awkward because the area was so soft and squished around the knife as I was cutting. But the sensation was completely different from the axe. It actually felt like I was cutting a tough piece of raw meat (which I guess technically, I was).

The blood started pouring out, and I hoped that I severed the most major arteries in there. It must have worked, because after a moment Linda’s limb movements kind of just had the strength drained from them, soon resting still on the floor. I took a few seconds to catch my breath. No time to stick around and think about the experience. I shook the knife blade through a dirty pan in the sink to clean off the blood, then threw the knife into my backpack. I did the same with the axe. I also took her laptop that was sitting on the counter. It had some recipe open for veal and mushrooms. I didn’t really take the laptop to use it, since I have a perfectly good one myself that I got for college. I just wanted to look through it for fun.

I finally went outside and closed the door behind me. I got some blood on my sweater and jeans. But funnily enough, I actually anticipated that so I wore dark colors.

The drive back to my dorm was just a constant replaying of the experience in my head. I guess that’s still kind of happening even now, actually. But it felt pretty nice. Linda Watson is dead. I kind of let the weight of that sink in. The sensation of having completely removed a human life from existence. It’s crazy. I don’t know how else to describe it.

Anyway, I threw the axe and knife into a dumpster on campus, which I think is picked up every Monday, so they’ll be gone by then. My roommate goes home on the weekends, so I have the dorm to myself today. It gave me the chance to go through Linda’s website history. I was right in thinking that’s where her deepest secrets would lie.

There was actually a lot of dirty stuff, like the names of websites for porn videos and stories and things like that. Same with her searches. A lot of the websites were boring, like cooking websites and recipes, and game websites like Bejeweled and stuff. I eventually got to the “one week ago” section of her history, and it gave me a chill.

There were a whole bunch of searches like “methods of suicide”, “how to tie a noose”, “dangerous household chemicals”, “carbon monoxide poisoning” — like a lot of them. She was probably ready to write a book on suicide after all the research she did. So I guess Linda was contemplating suicide. I wonder if it was influenced by her depression.

The irony is actually striking. Maybe Linda was going to die anyway. Or maybe she couldn’t find the courage to do it. If that were the case, I almost literally gave her a birthday present by killing her. That’s actually really comical in a messed-up way, and it leaves a weird taste in my mouth. The part I don’t get is that I didn’t see any of those searches up until the “one week ago” section, nothing more recent than that.

I ended up throwing the laptop in the dumpster with the other stuff. It’s been a few hours since then, so I’ve had some time to calmly think about everything. Like I said, it was pretty satisfying and I’m glad I finally got around to it. I feel like I can finally cross it off my bucket list, or like I’m tying loose ends with myself. This is probably the first and last time I’ll write the name Linda Watson — it’s back to living a normal college life, except I might do some people-watching every now and then because it’s definitely fun and interesting.

But I’ll always wonder how many people there are like me. I’m sure there has to be a lot, because there is just nothing strange about it to me, being curious about killing someone. Sadly, it’s something that people can’t exactly just talk about, so I guess I’ll never know. I’m sure that anyone would just lie about it even if you asked them. But you can’t help but wonder if that person in the grocery store, who stares at you as you pass by, might be considering what it would be like to kill you. If I could, I would tell them all about it, so they could decide for themselves. But who knows, maybe I got lucky, and that person is you. I actually really, really hope so.

~♥

[ultraimaginez]

Return - [Lucifer x MC]

Fandom: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer x MC

Rating: T

A/N: I’m just soft at the idea of Lucifer trying so hard to hold on to one (1) god damn thing in his life that matters to him. Let the boy have some stability jfc. Also I just finished chapter 20 and I had to put my Lucifer feelings somewhere.

~*~

It is a miracle that Lucifer has not already been crushed beneath the weight of all that he has lost: his place of highest esteem in the celestial realm, his father’s favor, Lilith, his autonomy outside of Diavolo, his brother’s trust... the list goes on and on. Most would not manage to escape the self-pity that comes with so much misfortune.

Yet he still manages to stands tall, ever the avatar of Pride. 

To those who do not know him intimately it would appear that despite everything he is unfazed. Nothing gets under his skin. He is always in control of the world around him...

But you get closer than anyone else has outside of his family. In defiance of his valiant attempts to keep his guard up, you see the truth of Lucifer. And as a result you learn to see his need for control for what it truly is-- a vice like grip on all the things he refuses to lose. Not this time...

Perhaps that explains why he does not allow you out of his sight as soon as you return to the Devildom. He grieved your loss once, made peace with the fact that you would return to the human realm, you’d find some stupid human lover unworthy of your time or heart or patience... and he would never have you-- just another in a long list of things he has loved fiercely and lost all the same.

But then you are back. 

You are back, and you choose him.

You are the exception to the rule.

The only lovely thing that didn’t slip through his fingers despite his iron grip and he’ll be damned if he loses you again.

~*~

It takes time to find your rhythm again. You love Lucifer beyond measure-- the kind of heart palpitating adoration that ancient poets wrote whole ass epic poems about... 

But god damn it if he doesn’t test every ounce of patience you have some days.

He seems to be under the impression that the world is going to rip you away again at any moment and he does not trust the universe to allow him even this one ounce of good fortune. As always, he sees himself in a battle against fate itself and, prideful as he is, he thinks he can take it on single handedly.

Like most things about Lucifer’s true nature, this all becomes obvious to you through the little mannerisms that others often overlook: 

When you stand side by side he always positions himself just one step behind you so that the lining of his black coat falls against your back, much like his black wings that would curl around your frame to keep you safe if he were in his demon form. 

When you walk together his hand always finds purchase somewhere on your hip or your shoulder or with his fingers intertwined between your own. Before making your pact Lucifer had always used his physicality to be imposing and try to maintain the barrier between the two of you-- both in a very literal way and as a means to assert authority. Now his body searches you out even in chaste ways to make sure you are still there. 

And when there are others around he makes a subtle show of making sure they recognize that physical proximity. With lesser demons you assume it’s a reminder that hurting you is a one way ticket to getting un-alived. With his brothers you think it’s a reminder that your return, while cause to celebrate for everyone, will be different this time around and he expects them to respect that.

~*~

And, listen, you’re not necessarily complaining about all the touching. It’s nice. Getting shoved up against the desk in his office and being kissed until your breathless? Also nice. The way he looks at you and sends a fire directly to your gut that feels like you’re going to burn up from the inside out if he doesn’t do something about it right now??? I mean... it’s more than nice.

But it does kind of impact your relationship with everyone else in the house and he’s got absolutely zero chill about it.

“Are you sure you’re not the avatar of envy?” You ask one afternoon, trapped with your back against the wall with his hands on either side of your face. You had just attempted to get up and leave his office after already having spent most of the afternoon there.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You made a pact. You said you were mine. And I’m just holding you to your word.” He leans down to kiss you and it’s gentler than you expected. You’ve gotten used to long, lingering, passionate kisses that spark a flame in your gut, but this feels more like a sweet acknowledgement.  Your words may have actual reached him this time.

“I know that.” your hands reach up and he allows you to gently run your fingers over the spot where the fur lining of his jacket meets his neck. “But Levi has been begging me all week to play this new game and he’s starting to get sad. If I don’t play co-op with him soon he’s going to start getting sulky.”

Lucifer seems to consider this for a while and then sighs. He gives a thoughtful nod but does not let you go. “I suppose it’s best for everyone then...” 

“Okay...”

He doesn’t move 

“I’m leaving now...”

He still doesn’t move.

“I will literally see you in bed tonight. Try not to frown so much.” You lean up to give him a sweet kiss and he finally lets you go, watching your retreating form before returning to a mountain of paperwork he no doubt will continue doing until you return.

~*~

And, for once, Lucifer is able to soften his grip-- knowing that no matter what happens you will always come back to him. You are one of the few things in his life he can rely on and one of the only things he can truly allow himself to love.

It’s not always perfect. It takes time, patience, and a whole lot of love-- but you do eventually begin to find your way back into your rhythm in the house. 

[pogokitten]

Lost and Found

By @pogokitten for @lost-lunar-wolf

Rating: Teen (for swears)

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, Ben Parker, May Parker

Summary: People lose things all the time, keys, toys, favorite socks. It happens, it’s just a part of life. But sometimes these lost items make their way to soulmates. It’s phenomena as old as civilization itself. You lose your favorite hair tie and poof, it just appears near your soulmate for them to find and eventually return. Romantic or Platonic, it’s expected that everyone stumbles over some of their soulmates' lost items here and there. Some people just end up waiting longer than others.  

Or: The platonic soulmate AU where Tony and Peter find and hold onto a lot of each other’s stuff over the years.

Tony is speed walking through his mansion the first time it happens. He’s not paying attention, tie barely on straight and coffee almost sloshing out of his cup as he rushes for the door. He’s late for a meeting and usually he wouldn’t care, but Obie has been up his ass about this one. Something about a grouchy general that thinks Stark Industries weapons are overpriced and overhyped needing convincing.

So when Tony stumbles on something caught under his dress shoes, he finds himself cursing colorfully as splashes of coffee dot the marble floor. He glares down at the offending object when he has his footing, fully expecting it to be a tool or something that migrated out of the workshop.

The engineer stops short and stares however, when he takes in the soft blue baby binky on his floor.

Tony is no stranger to having strange things in his house, being an eccentric billionaire and all, but he has absolutely no clue how a pacifier of all things has ended up on his floor.  

Tony scoops the binkie off the floor examining it, completely baffled.

It looks new if the bright color and barely chewed appearance is anything to go by. Tony wracks his brain for any possible reason a pacifier could have made its way into his home. This wasn’t a week for the cleaners so it wouldn’t be something of theirs, and the only other people who have been in his house since yesterday were Happy and Pepper.

The engineer knows Happy himself is allergic to children, but doesn’t he have a sister or something? Does she have a kid? Maybe it got mixed up in Happy’s things? It’s not the most plausible explanation.

As for Pepper, Tony’s pretty fucking sure she doesn’t have a kid. He knows from her comments that she doesn’t have much in the way of family anymore and that she’s single. Maybe one of her college friends has kids? Could one of their kid’s binkies have ended up in her purse during a visit or something?

The theory’s not great, but that’s at least more believable than Happy being the culprit, and for the life of him, Tony doesn’t know where else the thing would have come from.

Tony stuffs the pacifier into his pocket and continues out the door resolving to ask Pepper about it later.

---

Tony never ends up asking Pepper about the binky.

He came home from an extremely long day at the office spent schmoozing the stuffy general and tossed the thing out of his pocket along with his keys onto a cluttered table in the workshop. He then proceeded to drink the night away to dull the built up tension. When JARVIS wakes him up the next morning, the pacifier is a distant memory due to his ragging hangover and Obie calling to talk business.

It’s not until a few months later that the binky even crosses Tony’s mind again.

It’s another typical day in the life of a party addicted billionaire genius, when Pepper pages him through JARVIS to help her into the house. Tony finally emerges from his lab for the first time that day, muttering equations under his breath. He’s lost in his own head, still focused on the designs he’s been hammering out downstairs.

So Tony nearly falls on his ass when he steps onto something that slides under his feet in the entryway. The engineer is quick to catch himself, heart still racing from the near drop, and looks around irritably for damn banana peel or whatever it was that almost killed him.

He quickly spots what looks like a scrap of fabric nearby. Grumbling, Tony snatches it off the floor and realizes it's not a pocket square or a tie like he thought.

No, it’s a lovey.

He gapes at the toy with wide eyes.

The blanket bit of the toy is a soft yellow fabric, the stuffed animal portion a smiling dog with floppy ears. It’s a bit love worn and could probably use a wash, but it doesn’t seem especially old.

It also absolutely shouldn’t be here.

No one else has been in the mansion for the last two days except for him, and Tony knows the lovey wasn’t there this morning.

“JARVIS, did someone break into the house to leave baby toys for me to trip on, and you just neglected to tell me?” Tony asks.

“Of course not, sir,” the AI says, sounding almost offended, “No one has been inside of the mansion aside from yourself and I would have alerted you to a perimeter breach.”

“Then how is this here?” Tony questions, holding the toy up to the nearest camera.

“It simply appeared in the foyer, sir,” JARVIS tells him.

“That’s impossible, things don’t just appear.”  

“It is possible, sir. I thought it would be obvious,�� the AI refutes, a hint of a smirk in his tone.  

Tony rolls his eyes. “Not in the mood right now, J.”

“I believe that your soulmate has lost both the toy in your hand and the pacifier you found approximately three months ago,” JARVIS explains.

Any sort of snappy retort dies in Tony’s throat and he snaps his gaze back to the lovey he’s holding.

Soulmates were not something that Tony Stark had thought about often in the past two decades of his life.

Growing up he’d been as intrigued by soulmates as any child his age, waiting to find mysterious clothes or toys like many of his peers. He’d waited and hoped and looked for years, anything to ease the loneliness of the Stark Mansion. Only to find himself at the age of fifteen without a single lost and found object to his name. That had been when he started to doubt, when he stopped looking for items that weren’t his and steered away from conversations about soulmates.

It’s not unheard of to not have a soulmate until adolescence and beyond, but after he hit twenty-one, Tony had concluded that the cosmos hadn’t bothered to give him one. That, or his soulmate had died before they’d had anything to lose besides their life.

He is well past the age where he would have gotten a romantic soulmate bond, but a platonic or familial one…

It’s pretty common knowledge that a lot of parents and children share a familial soulmate bond, and it’s not like Tony is the most...celibate...person in the world. He’s been careful about his fun, but could it have happened? Or was this some random kid who had gotten stuck with Tony Stark as their ‘shared soul’ by the misfortune of fate?

Tony stares at the lovey in shock while his thoughts race for a long enough amount of time that Pepper irritably rings the doorbell again. Still practically in a trance, Tony opens the door for her on autopilot.

Pepper bustles into the mansion carrying several packages of mail and one of his freshly dry cleaned suits, strands of her vibrant hair escaping the usually tidy bun they’re usually pinned up in.

“Finally! I’ve been standing out there holding all these boxes for ages! Really, Mr. Stark what in the world did you order that’s so-?”

“Pep…” Tony manages to choke out, the nickname and his tone catching her attention.

His PA puts the mail and dry cleaning on a side table and turns back to him, concern on her face.

“Mr. Stark?” she asks.

With a slightly trembling hand he holds the lovey out to her. “I… I found this. And a binky a while ago. I’ve got… I’ve got a soulmate.”

“Oh… Mr. Stark-” Pepper’s mouth opens in shock as she takes in the toy, before her eyes crinkle in a smile, “Tony, that’s wonderful.”

“God look at this thing,” Tony chuckles, and to his slight horror, it’s a bit of a wet sound, “Between this and the binky, the kid can’t be more than half a year, huh?”

“I’d say so.” Pepper says smiling down at the little plush toy.

Tony swallows. “Do you think he’s mine?”

His PA looks back up at him, eyebrow raised slightly. “He?”

“Just a feeling.”

“A feeling, huh?” Pepper smiles, “Well he is yours. Your soulmate. It doesn’t matter if this child is yours biologically, because you’re going to care about them either way right?”

Tony nods, unable to voice any of his vulnerable thoughts. Too many emotions are still swirling inside, crowding his mind.

“Besides I don’t think he’s blood related to you,” Pepper tells him.

“How do you know?” Tony asks.

She gives him a bit of smirk. “Just a feeling.”

Tony gives a little laugh, giving her a grin in return. But eventually he looks back at the toy in his hands and feels it slip off his face. In his bones, he already knows that the bond he and his soulmate will have is going to be a familial extension of a platonic soulmate bond. Or more accurately, a paternal one. And that absolutely scares the shit out of Tony.

“What’s wrong?” Pepper questions, peering down at his whitening knuckles.

“Even if he’s not mine by blood, I don’t want to be like my dad,” Tony confesses in a rush, “I can’t keep the cycle going… I-”

“You won’t,” Pepper cuts him off, “The fact that you’re worried about that at all is proof enough that you care, and that you want to be better than Howard. So you will be.”  

Tony doesn’t say anything to that, gaze dropping back to the lovey in his hands. He wants to be better than his father, but can he be? He’s been following in Howard Stark’s promiscuous alcoholic shadow for a long time now. But he owes it to this kid, and Pepper, and hell, even himself to try and be better.

Pepper eventually clears her throat. “Will that be all Mr. Stark?”

Tony gives her a genuine smile, the kind that is reserved only for the few people he trusts and cares for. “That will be all Ms.Potts.”

***

Peter sits on the couch in his aunt and uncle’s apartment pouting. The adults are standing near the doorway, talking. Sure he loves Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but he loves his Mommy and Daddy more, and they’ve been going on trips so much lately. They just went on a trip a few weeks ago and now they’re going on another one. And this one is so far away.

“We should probably head out. Thanks so much for looking after Pete this week,” Peter hears his dad say.

“Of course, we love having Peter,” May tells him.

“Don’t go!” Peter jumps up from the couch and tackles his mom’s leg.

“It’s not for long sweetheart,” she soothes, brushing his hair back, “Daddy and I have to go to a few boring meetings. You’ll have more fun here with Uncle Ben and Aunt May.”

“But I’ll miss you!” Peter whines.

“And we’ll miss you kiddo, but we’ll be back before you know it,” his dad says, kneeling down to hug him.

Then his dad picks him up so his mom can hug them too. Peter likes it when they all hug like that, it makes him feel warm and super safe.

“Love you. Bye-bye,” Peter mumbles into the embrace sadly.  

He knows by now that no amount of begging will get them to stay, but that doesn’t stop him from trying at least a little bit every time.

His mom kisses his forehead. “And we love you Peter.”

Peter’s parents set him down and hug his aunt and uncle before they step out of the apartment and are gone. Peter’s eyes feel hot, but he doesn’t want to cry. He’s six, so he’s almost big now. Mommy said it was okay to cry no matter how old you are, but most of the other boys at school just make fun of Peter for it.

Aunt May cards her fingers through his hair. “Why don’t you go get settled, sweetie. Then we’ll all go to the park so you can play and feed the birds?”

Peter nods, subdued, and shuffles to the small guest room with his backpack and suitcase.

He sniffs back tears while he makes quick work of his suitcase, throwing his clothes haphazardly into the dresser, but takes much more care with his backpack.

Peter unzips it, double checking that all of his prized possessions are there. His dumb inhaler that he has to carry everywhere, check. His GameBoy and the handful of games he has, check. Toebeans, his stuffed snow leopard, check. His three favorite action figures at the moment, check. And… Peter panics for a moment before he feels his hand close around cold metal.

With a sigh of relief, Peter pulls the tool from his bag.

The screwdriver is small, the perfect size for Peter’s little hands. It’s old and its red handle is worn. Uncle Ben told him it’s for putting together small delicate things since it’s way too small for normal sized screws. Daddy said the screwdriver had turned up in Peter’s crib when he was just a few weeks old. He had explained that it belonged to Peter’s soulmate and that they must have lost it.

Peter’s soulmate must usually be good about not losing things though, since Peter hasn’t found that much stuff. So far it’s just been things like nuts and bolts or a couple of pretty neckties. Peter’s pretty sure his soulmate must be a grown up, since they never seem to lose fun stuff, like toys. Ned’s soulmate always loses toys, like My Little Pony dolls and plastic dinosaurs.  

Still Peter keeps all the things he finds, even if they’re usually kinda boring. Uncle Ben and Daddy always say it’s important to return lost items, and there’s no way Peter would ever be mean to his soulmate. Especially when holding his soulmate's screwdriver makes him feel better whenever he’s sad. It’s familiar and it makes him feel safe, like his parents’ hugs.

Staring down at the screwdriver, Peter wonders what lost stuff his soulmate has from him.

...Maybe they’ve got that bouncy ball he lost two weeks ago? It was a really good one. He hopes they have fun with it.

Still Peter can’t wait to meet his soulmate, even if they are old. Mommy told him to be patient, but Peter’s never really been the best at that. Daddy said they would meet when the time was right and he and his soulmate needed each other most. Whatever that means.

“Peter! Come on, let’s hit the park!” His uncle calls.

The boy quickly puts the screwdriver back and zips his bag closed, swinging it onto his shoulders. “Coming, Uncle Ben!”

His aunt and uncle lead him from the apartment, his little hand clasped in his uncle’s calloused one.

Uncle Ben gives his hand a squeeze and a gentle smile when Peter looks up at him. “Buck up champ, your parents will be back before you know it.”

“Yeah,” Peter smiles and never once that week did he think Uncle Ben would be wrong.

***

They’ve just finished a meager dinner of mostly tasteless stew, and Tony wants nothing more than to collapse after another day of hard labor. He’s lost track of how many days he’s been in this godforsaken cave, no longer having any concept of time after being hidden away underground. Since that first week, most days have been the same. Tony and Yinsen desperately trying to craft the instrument of their escape without being caught, all while making their captors believe they’re cooperating.

It's a terrifyingly fine tightrope they’re walking.  

At least he’s finally getting used to the constant pain of the reactor in his chest, something he’s very likely to live with for the rest of his life. However long that may be.

Tony has just stood and turned away from the fire, intending to finally sleep, when he stumbles over something in his exhausted state. He glances down half-heartedly, expecting a rock or a divet in the cave floor only to freeze when he sees it.

It’s an action figure of some sort. Clearly a superhero of some kind, his outfit is red and white with a helmet that hides his face. Tony thinks he’s flicked passed this show on TV once or twice. Power...Something. Power Riders..? No that’s not quite it.

Tony picks the toy up, feeling his lip quirk slightly despite himself.

“Stark?” Yinsen questions, coming over to look at what he’s holding.

“My kid...my soulmate,” Tony explains with a sad little huff of laughter at the other man’s raised eyebrow, “They must have lost this.”

“My children are the same, always misplacing their things,” Yinsen tells him with a nostalgic smile, “What are they like?”

“Well…” Tony heaves out a breath, blinking away the sudden urge to cry, “He’s a little boy if I had to guess, probably around seven or eight since that’s how long I’ve been tripping over his toys. He likes action figures and Legos, considering how many he loses, but I don’t...really know. I… I never got to meet him.”

And it’s true, he hasn’t. And god it feels like everything’s been a waste. He never even got to meet the little kid who’s stuff he’s been stumbling over for years. And now Tony’s in a cave held captive by terrorists with shrapnel near his heart, the only thing keeping him alive being the electromagnet in his chest and the knowledge of a missile his captives want him to build.

Yinsen puts a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You have not gotten to meet him yet.”

The engineer nods then, his jaw set. “Not yet.”

After that, Tony makes sure to keep the action figure close during his time in the cave with Yinsen. It’s almost obsessive how many times he checks that it’s still in the same place. But it’s like a little spark of hope in their dark cavern, a tangible reminder that there’s a life out there for him to return to, if he can just escape this hell.

Tony’s got to make sure he’s there to give all those toys back to the kid someday, after all.

***

Peter blinks awake sluggishly when May shakes his shoulder. “Come on. Get dressed sweetheart, breakfast is almost done. I know you don’t want to, but the two weeks the school let us have is up.”

Right. He’d been trying so hard not to think about it, he nearly forgot.

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

Peter pulls his aching body, sore from tossing and turning, out of bed while rubbing sleep from his eyes. Last night was definitely one of the worst nights he’s had these past two weeks. The teen had spent the first half of it shifting restlessly, unable to sleep, then he’d cried for at least an hour or two before finally succumbing to his exhaustion.

The boy shuffles into his clothes, not even bothering to check what he’s wearing. Moving to the bathroom, Peter cringes at his reflection after he finishes brushing his wild curls. He’s pale as a ghost, but his eyes are red and watery. Dark shadows sit under them, marks of the past two weeks of mostly sleepless nights.

He looks horrible. Like he’s a zombie or is deathly ill. There’s no way people won’t notice. The teen is really not looking forward to all the pitying looks and whispers he’s going to get just from the news he’s sure has gotten around, let alone how he looks like a ghost. Peter really doesn’t want to go back to school today...or well ever. Going back to “normal” after Ben… Well, it just doesn’t seem possible.

Unbidden more tears spring to his eyes.

Peter sighs, dropping his gaze back to the sink.

To his surprise an unfamiliar pair of sunglasses are sitting on the porcelain edge. Peter picks them up examining them, already aware that they don’t belong to May...or Ben. They’re a nice pair of sunglasses from what he can tell. The lenses are a deep red so dark it looks black, the frames a dark burnished metal. Clearly some really expensive name brand that probably costs near the apartment’s monthly rent.

Impulsively, Peter slips them on and checks out his reflection in the mirror. To his relief, they do a great job of hiding his red rimmed eyes and the dark shadows underneath them, perfect for his first day back to school. And he can admit, although they’re a smidge big, he does look pretty cool in them.

Peter slides them off and slips them into his hoodie pocket so that May doesn’t see. She probably wouldn’t approve of him trying to wear them all day. But hopefully his teachers will give him some leeway since they’ve probably all heard what happened.

Worst comes to worst, he can just lie and say he has a migraine or something.

He eats a solemn and slightly charred breakfast with May, sharing a long and tight hug with her before he forces himself to head out. As soon as he’s clear of their building, Peter slips the sunglasses back onto his face.

On the streets, no one gives him a second glance, but it is New York after all and that’s just the norm. The real test starts when he finally makes it to the front steps of his school. There are some kids milling around outside chatting about their weekends in the few minutes before the first bell. He slips past them easily enough, with only a few brief glances thrown his way.

In the hallway some of the students and teachers do give him lingering looks, but he keeps the glasses on and his head down and the whispers are minimal. When Peter finally makes it to his locker, he breaths out a sigh of relief. The sunglasses do attract a few lingering looks, but no one has commented on his distressed state.

He keeps them on for the rest of the day, sighting a migraine when asked. None of the teachers seem keen to try and force him to take them off, as expected. Peter’s pretty sure it’s just because none of them want to be responsible for making him cry or have a breakdown.

He ends up wearing the sunglasses a few more days that week, on the mornings after rough nights. The sunglasses almost feel like a shield, protecting him from prying eyes. It feels a bit like his soulmate is there, letting Peter hide behind them. They make him feel safe, and like he’s not an open book for the first time since that fatal gunshot rang out.

Eventually, after the rubbed raw pain of Ben’s death has faded a bit, the glasses end up tucked away with the little red screwdriver in the box that holds his most precious items.

***

Tony really wants a drink, despite all his promises to Pepper. He really has been trying to lay off since they finally got back together after such a long break. Not to mention he’d gotten black out drunk so many times in the first few weeks after Siberia that the few people left in his life had come together and begged him to stop before he killed himself. Tony’s a lot older than he was when he went out drinking every night after his parents were killed, and the drinking isn’t nearly as gratifying as it was then.

He hates that it’s still a struggle to not seek alcohol out on his own.

Now more than ever, especially after Ultron and the media dubbed “Civil War”, Tony wonders if he’s even managed to do any good in the world as Iron Man. More and more it seems like he just makes bigger messes than the ones he tries to clean up. Sure, he’s had his good moments, but they feel like they pale in comparison to all his missteps.

Not to mention how even when it’s a group failure, most of the world is content in letting just him take the fall. Everyone else seems to get off scot-free while Tony and his loved ones are left in the blast radius of the aftermath.  

The engineer sighs, heading back to his lab after taking a stressful SI call in his office upstairs. FRIDAY opens the door for him without comment and he heads towards the single worktable he’s managed to set up so far in the compound. But then Tony blinks at the backpack that’s now sitting on top of the letter and dinosaur tech Rogers mailed him.

The bag is dark blue and little worn, something inexpensive that’s easily bought at big box stores. Feeling a bit excited, almost like he’s opening a present, Tony pulls the first zipper open. This isn’t the first backpack his kid’s lost, but it is weird that it’s happened at least four times this year alone.

Inside he finds a handful of pens and pencils, a mostly blank notebook with some pretty high level physics in it, an advanced calculus textbook that’s seen better days, and a change of clothes. There’s no name of course, because the universe hates to “ruin the surprise” as the saying goes, but it still tells Tony a bit more about the type of person his kid is.

Obviously the kid is incredibly smart, although Tony already knew that from finding the kid’s advanced biochem notebook in the first lost backpack and seeing the sort of stuff he was working on (Some of which seemed to be of the kid’s own initiative and was complex enough that Tony himself had needed to brush up on the subject to decode it).

He also knows that the kid must not come from a super wealthy household going by the cheap bag and worn clothes. Of course he already knew that too. Most of the stuff that the kid’s lost is generally well taken care of, but always inexpensive. That knowledge had certainly gotten Tony to fund a lot more scholarships for advanced school programs around New York City. Not that he knows where the kid is other than somewhere in America, but it still made Tony happy funding the future.

Smiling slightly, Tony puts everything back in the bag and is about to take it to store with the rest of the kid’s stuff when he catches sight of the pin buttons decorating the front. One is a Star Wars one with some nerdy meme on it, but the other one has the Iron Man mask on it. He lets out a surprised and almost wet laugh. Even after all these years he's still the kid’s favorite.

Tony will never forget the first Iron Man drawing he’d found that the kid had done, or the first action figure of himself he’d tripped over in the lab. Tony remembers preening like a peacock and showing the toy off to Pepper, Rhodey, and even Happy for the next week.

Somehow, despite all the shit he’s done, Tony must have done something right to end up as his kid’s hero. Becoming a superhero might not be why he originally set out to be Iron Man, but somewhere along the way he learned that he couldn’t just stand by and let people get hurt. Tony may not be as much as a pure hearted superhero as the spider kid, but it’s nice to have a reminder that he’s still got people to live up to.

Speaking of the kid, Peter is eager for sure. He’s smart as a whip and has a good heart despite all the times the universe has shit on him. And young as he is, the spiderling is using his superpowers with a maturity that most kids his age wouldn’t have. That and he did really well in Germany.

Tony looks back at the backpack frowning. Iron Man won’t be around forever, as much as Tony hates to admit it, he is getting old. And with almost all of the Avengers in the wind, he needs to make sure there are still heroes, real heroes, for the world to believe in.  

Tony nods to himself and pulls up the design for the Iron Spider suit.

***

Peter pulls himself out from under the rubble of the collapsed warehouse, gasping for breath, limbs still shaking. Behind him the rubble shifts and tumbles further and the teen is quick to scramble away from it, coughing at the dust it kicks up. For a moment he just stands there trying to catch his breath and still his shaking.

Holy shit, that just happened. The Vulture dropped an entire building on him and left him to die. Peter can feel the embers of his panic trying to crawl up his throat and reignite. He already knows this incident is gonna be nightmare fuel to rival the ones he has about Ben’s death. Just like that night, Peter feels like he lost something of himself, only this time it was lost under the rubble and not in a puddle of blood.

But he thankfully doesn’t have time to dwell on it.

There’s no telling how far Toomes has gotten while he was trapped under the warehouse. Peter needs to move now if he wants to stop the villain from stealing dangerous Avengers tech. If that stuff gets out on the streets no one in New York City, or maybe even the country would be safe. The thought of what kinds of people Toomes could sell those weapons to is horrifying.  

People are in danger, and even if Peter messes up or disappoints Mr. Stark again, he can’t let anyone get hurt when he has the power to stop it.

So, still trembling slightly, Peter raises his arm and shoots off a web, swinging into the night after the Vulture.

He doesn’t give a single thought to his Spider-Man mask, lost and left behind in the debris.

***

Tony is in the Avengers Compound again when he finds it.

Moving all the old Avengers tech to the compound has proven to be a nightmare. He’s still got the government up his ass after the “Civil War” debacle. Not to mention the modified alien weapons on the streets that both the DODC and FBI have been too incompetent to get a handle on, or even find the source of. But he’s still so busy with SI, the Accords, and the move upstate that he doesn’t have the time to track the guy properly at the moment.

And this Vulture guy really is below the Avengers’ pay grade like he told Peter. They were never really in the business of taking down arms dealers, not even high tech ones.

Tony sighs. He is starting to feel bad about taking back the kid’s suit. Sure, Peter was being reckless in it, but hadn’t Tony done the same in his? And Peter had the excuse of being an actual child. Not to mention sooner or later, the kid is going to remember that his powers don’t come from the suit. He’s going to run into a crime he can’t ignore and he won’t have the one thing that keeps him safe.

Tony had been telling the spiderling he didn’t want to be like his old man before the ferry shitshow, and what had he done as soon as Peter slipped up? Screamed at him, taken away the suit, and basically told the kid he didn’t want to have to deal with him anymore. And before that he had barely interacted with Peter after the whole thing in Germany, and yeah, Tony had some good excuses for that, but it was all still the exact same shit Howard would have done.

As much as Tony doesn’t do feelings, maybe he should call the kid up and apologize soon. It’s already been a few weeks.

Tony has just collapsed onto his desk chair in his workshop and started massaging at the tension headache sitting at the front of his skull when it catches his eye. A strange flash of red on his work table that wasn’t there just a moment before. Tony already knows it’s not something of his considering how little he’s been using this lab up until now.

His lip is already twitching up fondly as he reaches for it, wondering what the kid lost this time. He grabs the fabric object and pulls it out from under the stack of blueprints it’s ended up under.

For a moment nothing makes sense.

He’s holding Spider-Man’s mask.

The first one, from the kid’s onesie suit with the googly-eyed goggles sewn in. It’s soaking wet and covered in concrete dust. There are also a few smears of darker red that take a moment to register as blood to the engineer. All he can do is stare at it in utter confusion for a few seconds.

Then it suddenly makes so much fucking sense and Tony is so damn stupid. Of course It’s Peter, of course it’s always been the kid. Of fucking course his soulmate is the superpowered genius orphan with a guilt complex as big as his own. Of course it's the kid who agreed to help fight when Tony needed him the most. It was right in front of his face and he’s an idiot for not realizing that he found his soulmate nearly six months ago.

A soulmate who he’s been foisting off on Happy and refused to grow close to out of paranoid fear. A soulmate who’s looked up to Tony his whole life despite how shitty of a person Tony is. A soulmate who has obviously gone out in his homemade onesie of a suit and has obviously been wounded recently, if the fresh blood on the mask is anything to go by.

“FRIDAY, call the Forehead of Security,” Tony orders, vaguely realizing that his hands have started to tremble.  

As soon as the line connects, Tony is speaking before his friend can get a word in. “Happy, where’s the kid?”

“Tony- what?” Happy asks, sounding baffled, “Who? Parker?”

“Yes. What other kid do we both know? Where is he?” Tony questions.

“Why are you asking me? I don’t know. You have his number don’t you? Or just call his-” Happy cuts himself off, and for a moment Tony thinks the connection dropped until he hears Happy swearing, “Shit! Shit!”

“What?” the engineer demands.

There's a long moment of silence and Tony thinks he might actually hear Happy gulp. “The plane. It just went down.”

“Oh God, that’s what he’s doing,” Tony breathes out, heart clenching, “Peter’s there, Happy! He’s trying to stop it and he’s going to get himself killed!”

“What? How do you know? Besides I thought you took his suit?”

“I did! But I found his old Spider-Man mask covered in dirt and blood!” Tony practically shouts into the phone, the fear he feels coming out easier as anger.

Happy is silent for a moment, maybe stunned at the outburst. “Tony what are you talking about? You’re upstate-”

“You aren’t getting it,” Tony cuts him off, feeling panic starting to win over anger, “I just found it in the lab! The lab that Peter has never set foot in! On my work table that was clear about five minutes ago!”

“What..? But that means...” there’s a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line, “Oh God. Shit- Okay. Coney Island that’s where-”

“I’m on my way,” Tony says, shoving Peter’s mask into his pocket and stepping into a suit, hoping with everything he has that the kid, his kid, is okay.

Then he’s blasting out of the lab’s launchpad, streaking through the sky towards the glowing beacon of New York City in the far distance as fast as the suit can take him. He tries to call Peter from his HUD but it goes straight to voicemail and Tony tries not to lose it completely.

---

When Tony finds Peter, bleeding, battered, and unconscious on top of the Cyclone coaster he greys out. FRIDAY is feeding him info on the kid’s condition and giving him instructions, but even as Tony’s body moves to follow her recommendations, it’s like he’s not even there. Or maybe he is but only in flashes, like his brain is skipping.  

One moment Tony’s picking the kid up as if he’s made of porcelain and the next he’s shooting off into the air, streaking back towards the compound since he stupidly moved upstate and left Peter without support in the city. It feels like Tony blinks and he’s landing again and Helen and her team are taking Peter’s limp blood covered body from Tony’s arms. He thinks Pepper calls him, and then Happy.

He has no idea what he says to either of them.

And then, what must be hours later, it feels like Tony finally wakes up in the compound’s medby, sitting at Peter’s bedside. The kid’s old mask is still bulging out of his pocket. He pulls it out and stares at it for a bit before looking back at his kid, his soulmate, laid out in the narrow bed.

Peter in his hospital scrubs is smaller and paler than Tony has ever seen him against the crisp white sheets. Not that he’s seen much of the kid, a dark part of his thoughts remind him. The kid’s broken ribs and head wound are bandaged, and he’s got an air cast for a wrist fracture. Helen’s got him hooked up to a complicated IV drip of some sort and FRIDAY is keeping careful track of the spiderling’s vitals on a nearby monitor.

Tony doesn’t remember too much of what Helen said about Peter’s injuries, other than they were somewhat severe and he’d lost a good bit of blood, but they thankfully hadn’t had to operate. Although he remembers there had been a fair amount of stitches needing to be done on the kid’s torso. That and something about having to give him an insane amount of pain meds to even touch his metabolism.

Peter shivers in his sleep and Tony hesitates for a moment before pulling the blankets up higher and tucking the teen in. After a few minutes the shivering stops, and tentatively Tony takes one of Peter’s hands in his. The kid’s hand is cold and a bit clammy in his, but Tony doesn’t mind. His curls are adorably wild and the engineer has to resist the urge to brush them out of Peter’s face.  

Tony doesn’t know how long he sits there holding his soulmate's hand, going over in his head again and again what he could possibly say to the kid, before he feels Peter grip his hand back weakly.

“Finally back with us, Pete?” Tony asks with a softness he didn’t know he possessed when the spider kid’s eyes start to slit open.

“Mis’r S’ark?” the teen slurs still half asleep.

Tony manages a weak grin. “The one and only.”

“Wha’ are you doin’ here?” Peter mumbles squinting his eyes open a bit more.

Tony squeezes the kid’s hand. “Didn’t want you to wake up alone and freak out.”

The physical contact and words seem to get through some of Peter’s drowsiness and confusion because he blinks rapidly then snatches his hand out of Tony’s own. The engineer tries not to feel stung by the action.

“Oh my god, your plane! Toomes! Is he okay, is anyone hurt?!” the teen asks frantically.

Tony is quick to stop the spiderling from trying to sit up. “The only one hurt was you, kid.”

Peter slumps back against the pillows. “That’s good.”

“It’s really not. Peter, you could have-” Tony cuts himself off and breathes out a long sigh, not wanting to lecture the kid while he’s still recovering.

The kid is giving him a wary look, like he’s waiting for Tony to lose it on him again. It makes him feel like even more of a piece of shit. So he does the only thing he can think of and holds the Spider-Man mask out to the kid.

“I found this,” Tony says abruptly.

“Oh. At the old warehouse?” Peter asks, taking it from him without meeting his eyes.  

“No. In my lab.”

The spider kid’s head pops up at that, confused. “But, Mr. Stark, I’ve never been to your lab. And I had it for part of the fight with Toomes.”

Tony nods and clears his throat. Well, now or never. “I know. But you did lose it.”

Peter’s brow furrows in confusion. Tony sees it dawn on the kid after a few seconds, his eyes going wide and shooting up to stare at the engineer.  

“You… So you’re…” the kid stutters.

“Yeah, kid. I’m your soulmate and I’ve got several boxes full of old toys, clothes, and backpacks that I’ve been holding onto for a long time,” Tony tells the boy feeling a little choked up.

Peter doesn’t say anything, he’s still staring at Tony looking completely gobsmacked. When the silence continues to stretch on, the engineer feels his insides squirm with insecurity. After everything that’s happened, maybe Peter doesn’t want to deal with such a shitty soulmate. Tony’s not sure he’d be too forgiving after the last few months of no contact and a near deathmatch with a supervillain that probably could have been avoided.  

When Peter still doesn’t manage to get a word out, Tony lets himself deflate. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. I know I’m not anyone’s first choice of well…anything generally, and you deserve a better soulmate and mentor... But give me another chance, Pete. It won’t be perfect at first but let me try and fix-”

“That’s-!” Peter bursts in suddenly, cutting him off, “That’s not true Mr. Stark. The whole ‘not anyone’s first choice’ crap, I mean. You were...one of my first heroes and- and you still are. Both in a science and superhero sense. And yeah you, uh, do really suck at the whole…emotional availability thing, but you just need practice. Probably.”

Tony finds his mouth twitching up, especially when Peter’s ears go red at the last bit. The kid is endearingly honest and awkward.

“What I mean is, that I’ve been trying to follow your footsteps for a long time now. And I forgive you for the whole…ghosting me thing, and I don’t blame you for taking the suit after the ferry. And I want to be your soulmate if you’ll still have me after I crashed your plan, and-” Peter cuts off his own rambling and looks down, still flushed with embarrassment, “Sorry, I’m totally still freaking out that it’s you.”

“You and me both kid, I don’t know what I did to deserve compassionate, responsible, superhero Peter Parker as my soulmate,” Tony tells the kid, and immediately shoots for a joke to cut away from the vulnerability of that statement,  “Even if you’re a little shit that gives me grey hair, especially with all the all the times I’ve nearly broken my neck tripping on your stuff over the years.”

“Well, I don’t know what I did to deserve Tony freaking Stark as my soulmate, even if he only loses boring crap like ties and metal scraps. Seriously, Ned’s soulmate lost Nintendo DS games and all I had to show from mine were socks or nuts and bolts. You made me so lame, Mr. Stark,” Peter whines dramatically, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, and it doesn’t ruin my very polished image as Tony Stark, billionaire genius, to trip over your Legos while out in public?” the engineer teases back, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Peter gives him a big innocent grin in response like the smartass he is and Tony just rolls his eyes.

The engineer leans forward and opens his arms in invitation. “C’mere spiderling.”

Peter lights up and gingerly leans into the embrace, careful of his injured ribs. He lets out a soft sigh of contentment and Tony won’t admit to anyone that the sound makes him melt a bit.

“Is this actually a hug this time, since there’s no door to get?” Peter questions with false innocence after a few moments.

Tony snorts. “Yes, you little shit it’s a hug.”

Peter’s laughter in his ear is the best thing he’s heard in months.

“So, when do we get to return each other’s stuff? Can we do it now?” the spider kid asks when they break apart, excitement shining in his eyes even as they began to droop with fatigue.

“Not till you’re healed, first of all. And we’ll have to take a day to do it. It’s a lot to go through. You’ve lost a lot of stuff over the years, kiddo,” Tony tells him, helping to settle the drowsy kid back under the bedsheets.

“We’ve got time,” Peter yawns, “Besides, if I didn’t lose anything, then how would you ever know to come find me and give it back Mr. Stark?”

Smiling fondly Tony finally gives in and starts combing his fingers through Peter’s hair. “I’ll always come find you, Pete.”

The spiderling gives a happy sleepy murmur in response before he slips back into sleep.

***

A few weeks later, after May had found out about everything, superhero alter egos and soulmates included, Peter is finally ungrounded enough to be allowed to go to the compound one weekend. May and Tony had talked a lot in the last few weeks and she had come to terms with everything. Well, after a lot of yelling at least. But now she was glad that Peter had another adult to care for him and watch over him.

Peter wasn’t just teasing about his not losing much over the years. He’s only brought over about three cardboard boxes worth of forgotten items. It’s a stark contrast to the eight or so big plastic bins that Mr. Stark keeps Peter’s things in. To be fair, he knows Mr. Stark has an eidetic memory which makes it pretty easy to keep track of most of his things, while Peter seems to be a bit more of a disorganized genius.

Mr. Stark starts in on his collection first, cooing over Peter’s baby toys and books while the teen sputters in embarrassment. In retaliation Peter just shoves the entire box of screws, nuts, bolts, and other assorted metal bits of various sizes at his mentor with a huff. Even Mr. Stark admits that it would be pretty boring stuff for a kid to find. Although Peter does confess to using a few spare parts in his refurbishing of tech he’d found in the trash.  

“Oh wow, I always wondered what happened to my red Power Ranger!” Peter exclaims when he spots the bright flash of red and white in the box of toys Mr. Stark has just opened, “I was so sure one of the other kids at school had stolen it.”

“I found that guy when I was in Afghanistan,” his mentor divulges quietly.

Peter freezes half way through grabbing the toy. “What?”

“When… When I was kidnapped, I tripped over it in the cave the Ten Rings kept us in. I carried him around with me the whole time after that. That little dude went through the ringer with me then,” Mr. Stark explains ruefully, his eyes locked on the battered action figure.

The expression on Mr. Stark’s face is hard to decipher. It’s sad and haunted, but there’s also some deep fondness as he looks at the plastic Power Ranger. Obviously there are a lot of heavy memories tied to the toy, good and bad.

“You should keep it, Mr. Stark,” Peter says firmly, gently pushing the action figure back into his mentor’s hand.  

Surprised, Mr. Stark seems to shake himself out of whatever stupor he’d fallen into. “You sure, kid?”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Stark doesn’t have to say anything, but Peter can tell. His Red Ranger means a lot to his mentor. It’s not something Peter wants to take away from him. Mr. Stark gives him a warm smile, his genuine one that he saves only for a select few people, and sits the toy on his work desk in a place of honor.

“Are you good to keep going?” Peter asks uncertainly.

He’s still not sure where the lines are with his mentor yet. They’ve slowly been getting closer over video calls and texts while Peter was grounded, but they’re both still waffling in that awkward phase when you first start actually getting to know someone.

Mr. Stark gives him a soft smile. “Yeah, kid. I’m fine.”

A bit later, after they’ve gone through and reminisced over all Peter’s baby stuff, Tony pulls a big binder out of one of the bins.

“I loved finding your drawings,” his mentor admits, “Rhodey, well you’d know him as War Machine, hung some up on the fridge as a joke when I showed them to him. And then, before I knew it, I was putting them up there myself.”

“You did what?!” Peter gapped, “Mr. Stark!”

“Oh come on kid, your artwork was adorable. Especially after the Battle of New York and I started finding a lot more Iron Man drawings. I even had a few of them framed,” his mentor grins.

Peter gives him a flat look. “You did not.”

In response, Mr. Stark  just raises an eyebrow and pulls a framed colored pencil drawing of Iron Man out of one of the bins. It’s not a bad likeness, done on lined notebook paper depicting Iron Man blasting a giant monster out of the sky. Peter vaguely remembers having drawn the thing when he was bored during math class a few years ago. The teacher confiscated it when she saw he wasn’t paying attention and Peter never did get it back.

The teen hides his red face behind his hands. “Oh my God.”

Iron Man literally put Peter’s childhood artwork up on his fridge like a proud dad. He doesn’t know if he wants to preen or hide from knowing that.  

Mr. Stark just laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t be like that, kid. Come on, I can’t not be proud of my kid’s artwork.”

Peter feels himself turning an even deeper shade of red. His kid.

Stuttering out something incomprehensible, Peter reaches for one of his boxes of Mr. Stark’s lost items. Still chuckling, his mentor leans over his shoulder to see what he’s digging through. He makes a surprised noise and reaches down to extract something from the collection.

It’s a very familiar small red screwdriver.

“Well, what do you know? That’s my favorite screwdriver from when I was in MIT. I put DUM-E’s circuit board together with that.”

“Seriously? That’s so cool, Mr. Stark. My parents told me they found it in my crib when I was just a few months old. I used to take it everywhere with me when I was little,” Peter recounts with a small smile.

Mr. Stark’s eyes crinkle, a subtle upward quirk to his lips. “I can see you took good care of it.”

“I’m glad I could finally bring it back to you,” Peter tells him earnestly.

He’ll miss the screwdriver a lot more than he wants to admit, but it’s something so important to Mr. Stark. This is the tool his mentor but his first AI together with. He deserves to finally have it back.

“Keep it, Pete,” Mr. Stark places the tool in Peter’s hand and fold’s the teens fingers over it, “You’ve obviously given it a good home.”

Peter looks up at him. “Are you sure?”

“It couldn’t be in safer hands, kid,” his mentor affirms.

Peter beams in response. He’d been so impatient to meet his soulmate when he was a kid, but now he knows it was well worth the wait. And there’s no one he’d want more as his mentor, father figure, or soulmate than Tony Stark.

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

[vs-redemption]

Hey, im not sure if your requests are open if not ignore this lol but do you think you can do a part two of finding out their unknown child is/was being abused by their mother with Shouto and any other character you would like? (May I ask if Shouto's child could be a girl if it's not too much? Im soft when it comes to him having a daughter🥺) Sorry for being a bother if requests are closed. I can't find where it says if it is or not. Thank you!❤

From Cindy: I’ve written so many of these now! I hope they’re not getting repetitive. It was really nice writing Todoroki (I’ve been thinking about him with a kid recently anyway) And I chose Dabi as the second character because the only other villain I did this scenario for was Shigaraki.

A Surprise Meeting (Todoroki and Dabi meet their abused child)

You can read the same scenario but with Bakugo, Iida, and Aizawa HERE You can read the same Scenario with Hawks, Fatgum and Shigaraki HERE

Warning:⚠️Angst, Child Abuse, mentions of murder/killing⚠️

Shoto Todoroki

Winter was in full effect as Shoto made his way home after his evening patrols. There was a thin layer of snow covering the ground already, and with the rate in which the white fluff was currently coming down, he predicted there would be even more to trudge through when he went to work in the morning. He decides to stop into the nearest convenience store to pick up something hot to eat. He wasn’t particularly cold since he was able to warm himself up pretty well with his quirk, but the pangs of hunger after a long day of work could not be ignored. He sighs in disappointment when he sees that the yakisoba bread is out of stock before going up to the counter and asking for a few steamed meat buns out of the glass case next to the register.

After purchasing his snack he went back outside into the snowy weather to continue his journey home. The sun had already set, so he took his time to enjoy the city streets which were decorated with holiday lights. A small bubble of excitement formed in his chest as he remembered the Christmas party he’d been invited to by one of his classmates from his days back in UA. After graduation, they’d all split up to start their own agencies around the country, so they tried to do something fun once a year as an excuse to see each other again and catch up.

“Mommy, can I have one of those?” the tiny voice pulls Shoto from his day dreaming and he looks across the street to see a mother and daughter making their way through the snow. The girl was really young, no more than five or six years old.

“No!” the mother’s answer comes out harsh and the little girl slumps her head.

“Okay,” the girl sighs and they continue walking. Shoto keeps watching them for moment just out of habit. After all, he was a pro-hero, so it was natural for him to be concerned over a woman and her child waking around after dark.

“Hurry! Up!” The mom suddenly snaps and yanks the daughter forward by the arm. The aggressive behavior makes Shoto flinch, especially when the little girl stumbles over her clunky snow boots and loses her footing. He knew parents lost patience with their children sometimes, but he couldn’t help the memories of his own childhood that resurfaced when he saw things like that.

“Sorry mommy,” the girl yelps when the woman pulls her back up. “But my feet are getting cold.”

“I don’t care if your feet are cold,” the mother lowers her voice. “Walk faster or I’m just going to leave you here in the snow to freeze! What do you think about that?”

Something about the woman’s voice was familiar to Shoto, but he couldn’t see who she was due to the fact she was bundled up in her coat and scarf. The way she treated her child, however, left a sour taste in his mouth. He wasn’t sure if it was his place to interfere though.

“No, please don’t leave me!” The little girl begins to sniffle and struggle harder to keep up with the mother’s pace. She grabs on to the woman’s coat so that she won’t get left behind.

“Stop hanging on me!” The woman whirls around and raises her hand angrily above her head. Shoto can’t stop himself from crossing the street to step in when he sees this. Unfortunately, he doesn’t make it in time to stop the woman from slapping the child, causing her to fall back into the snow while cupping her stinging cheek in her hands.

“Excuse me,” Shoto wasn’t even sure what to say. “Is everything all right?”

“Mind your own business!” The woman turns to face him but her eyes go wide when she sees who’d approached her. Shoto reels back in surprise as well. He knew this woman. He’d been in a relationship with her years ago, but she’d disappeared one day without ever saying why.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Shoto felt extremely confused. “What happened?”

“I got pregnant,” she shrugs as if that weren’t a huge deal. Shoto’s eyes glance back to the tiny girl who had finally stood up and brushed the snow off her pants. She looks up at him and he feels the air leave his lungs. Her watery eyes were identical to his, and her hair was white with just a single lock in the front which was the same color as her mother’s. He had no idea what to do or say, so he simply reaches into the grocery bag to take out a hot meat bun to hand to her. She snatches up the food eagerly and starts munching away while Shoto looks back at his ex.

“What didn’t you tell me?” He asks, trying to keep all his emotions in check as he processes the information.

“Because I had plans for how I wanted to raise her,” the mother gestures to the girl. “And I didn’t want you to stop me. The people in your family tend to have powerful quirks. I wanted to capitalize on that, and I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

Flashbacks of the torturous trainings Endeavor had put him through as a child played in Shoto’s mind and he found himself getting angry. Just what had this woman done to the daughter he’d never even known about?

“Oh, calm down.” She says, noticing the change in the atmosphere. “It all backfired on me anyway. The girl got her quirk a few months ago and it’s nowhere near as powerful as yours or your father’s. Why do you think I’m back in town? I was planning on dropping her off on your doorstep soon anyway.” Shoto looks back at his little girl, sadness and rage consuming him. It hurt to know that she’d suffered with such a heartless parent for so long, just as he had.

“How could you talk like that about your own child?” Shoto asks, looking back at the mother.

“Don’t waste your time trying to make me feel bad,” She crosses her arms over her chest. “If you want her, take her. Otherwise I’ll find an orphanage to drop her off at.” Shoto was quick to shoot down the second option as he reaches down to lift the girl into his arms and cradle her against his chest. He feels a surge of love chase away the negative feelings in his heart as the small girl snuggles against the warmth of his left side.

He exchanges contact information with the mother so that he could get ahold of her when it came time to do all the legal paperwork that would allow him to adopt his daughter. With her cooperation, hopefully the process would go smoothly.

“Can I have another meat bun?” The girl asks shyly has he makes his way home with her in his arms so she wouldn’t have to be in the snow anymore.

“Yes, you can.” Shoto hands her the entire bag. “From now on, you can have anything you want.”

Dabi

Dabi didn’t always hang out in back alleys in the middle of the night, but when he did it was because the rest of the League of Villains had driven him to a point where, if he didn’t go off to cool down somewhere, he was liable to send them all into early graves. If he was honest with himself, the idea wasn’t without merits. There wasn’t a single one of his criminal comrades that didn’t annoy the ever loving daylights out of him. He had the misfortune though of needing them to achieve his wish of fulfilling the doctrine envisioned by the hero killer, Stain. It was for that one single reason that he didn’t end them all.

His self-imposed solitude worked wonders for a short time. The coolness of the night felt good against the burned flesh on his face and arms, but it was quiet times like these when bitter memories tended to creep into his mind and remind him of the reason he was even in the condition he was. He hated how difficult it was to just get a single moment’s peace. If he wasn’t being nagged half to death by the league, his mind was torturing him with images of his messed up past. That was the real reason behind his burning hatred. Sure, he had no problem killing as many heroes as dared to cross his path, but there was only one life that would really calm the bloodlust that constantly consumed him.

The sound of soft footsteps alerts Dabi to the presence of someone approaching. They were trying and failing to be sneaky, but he pretends to be oblivious while using his peripherals to size up the intruder. He wanted to laugh when he gets a glimpse of the form of a young boy, probably no older than seven or eight. He decided to end the kid’s ridiculous ploy before he ended up embarrassing himself.

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to play in dark alleys, kid?” Dabi doesn’t even bother to look at the boy who’d froze as soon as he realized he’d been caught.

“My mom’s dead,” the boy snaps and Dabi notes the vengeful tone of his voice.

“That sucks,” he says in a way that clearly showed his disinterest. Recently, Dabi’s only victims had been the scum of society. They were people who he considered so useless he couldn’t even be bothered to let them live after rejecting their pleas to join the League of Villains. “If you’re looking for revenge, I doubt it was me who killed her. And if it was, trust me when I say you’re better off.”

“I know you didn’t kill her,” the boy sounded more confident now, “because I did.” The confession throws Dabi off just a little, and he finds himself intrigued.

“Wow, kid.” He says, still sounding dismissive. “That’s pretty messed up.”

“Not as messed up as being abandoned by your father before you’re even born, and then spending your entire childhood getting slapped around by a deadbeat mom!” The kid’s voice cracks in the middle of his rant, betraying the vulnerability he was trying to hide.

“Oh,” Dabi deadpans. He was done with this conversation now. The boy’s words were seeping into his brain and poking at old traumatic wounds that were better left forgotten. If this child was out looking to cut down his father in cold blood, that was something Dabi could unfortunately relate to and understand completely.

“Well,” he speaks again once the kid failed to take the hint that he should scram. “Bothering me isn’t going to help you. If you die right here in this alley, you’ll never get the chance to fight your old man.”

Suddenly, a wave of heat rolls through the air and the entire alley lights up in eerie blue light. The familiar glow finally elicits a response from Dabi who widens his eyes and finally turns to look at the boy directly. He doesn’t know what to think when he sees bright blue flames dancing in the boy’s palms and around his arms. In the light of the fire, Dabi notices the way the boy’s brilliant blue eyes stare him down with a predatory glare that he knew all too well. It was all evidence leading him to the conclusion that he’d accidentally gotten some poor soul pregnant during his promiscuous mid-teen years. He wasn’t going to bother asking the name of the kid’s mom, he probably wouldn’t remember it anyway.

“It looks like you really drew the short stick when it comes to parents, kid.” Dabi takes a few steps towards the boy whose fire only grows with intensity the closer he gets. “I’m not sure if this’ll make you feel any better, but I can’t be blamed for abandoning someone I never knew existed.” The boy tenses up, looking unsure about what Dabi was trying to say.

“If you knew, would you’ve stayed?” He asks through clenched teeth.

“Probably not,” Dabi admits shamelessly. He kept his tone even although there was an inkling of jealousy worming its way up his spine. The boy had been wielding his blue flames for a decent amount of time now, with no hint that he was taking any damage. When Dabi had been his age, he’d already had permanent skin and nerve damage from the way his sweltering flames tore at his own body.

“You’re a monster!” The boy accuses before waving his arm to send a billowing blast of fire at his father. Dabi countered with his own burst of blue flames that knocked the boy right off his feet and onto his back. The boy scrambled to back away, but Dabi was looming menacingly over him in the blink of an eye.

“I’ve been called worse,” the villain says flatly while placing his boot on the boy’s stomach to keep him from getting away. He leans down so that his son could look into his face and understand the mistake he’d made by coming after him.

“Are you going to kill me?” the boy asks while trying to push Dabi’s foot off of him so he could breathe more comfortably.

“No,” the answer slips out before Dabi can even consider the alternative. “Not unless you try to threaten me again.” He puts a little more pressure onto his foot causing the boy to winch in discomfort. “That’s why you’re going to get out of here and never come looking for me again. You got that?” The boy nods his head obediently and Dabi removes his boot.

“I’ve got nothing to offer you,” he admits while the boy scrambles back to his feet. “Except more of the same miserable existence you’ve known until now.” The boy opens his mouth to speak, the confidence he’d shown before was long gone, but Dabi didn’t want to hear his pleading.

“Get out of here,” he allows his self-destructive flames to erupt all over his body, “now.” The boy didn’t need to be told twice. He understood the threat. He turned on his heel and ran from the alley. Dabi watched the retreating form of his son until he disappeared into the night. He takes a second to stare down at his scared hands as his brain comes to terms with what just happened. He now knew that he had a child out there in the world, but maybe it was best to tuck that knowledge away with the rest of the memories he tried so desperately to suppress. At the end of the day, it didn’t really change anything anyway.

[trashcatsnark]

WHY THE FUCK WERE UP SO LATE??? FUCKING UR SO LUCKY I CANT BEAT UR ASS OTHERWISE ITD BE KNUCKLE CITY

anyway, speaking about johnny boy i was thinking about him + nibbles and our like collective desicion that he is essiently a cat and it is really weirdly fitting that it just makes me like ???? so like cats themselves are a reoccuring motif within the game from the start, when u go to viks, when ur chatting up takemura and at the end with the rooftop that also doubles as like the millionith matrix reference. they follow v and they take up the role of the bakeneko, which i think in the game is defined by them appearing near death ? or just disaster. the obvious thing is that it is to do with v's inpending death and their whole sitation but like the general point is like the cat symbolises the death that follows v as the cat follows them. this puts johnny in an interesting sitation from his catlike nature to how he seems to like and get along with nibbles, he is linked with cats. he is also the parasite that is killing v. he is V's bakeneko. their signal of death. the events start because of his relic, jackie dies for him, and soon does most of the cast from act 1, and a large part of the death from then on is a direct result of them trying to solve the relic and johnny's whole presence is a signal for hey v ur fucking dying. he is death for them. the bakeneko.

makes me wonder if his catlike attributes were intentionally done cause that boy aint right or we just accidently walked on a really thematic fitting landmind

Spoilers within, again, also leave my sleeping schedule alone, I do not function. Additionally, I have a lot to say about Nibbles, omens, cats, and pets then how they all relate back to Johnny so congrats on opening a flood gate my friend!

 think the thematic thing with Johnny and cats and the bakeneko has to 1000000 percent be intentional, because he even sees a cat when Alt is kidnapped. And that goes back to Cyberpunk Red. Like that was used and utilized and then became such a large part of the story. 

Johnny is clearly meant to be a bakeneko; he’s actively next to the cat in that conversation, leaves when it does, see the same cat before Alt’s death, and is again the visual representation of what is happening to V. He is the symbol of their death, whether he wants to be or not. 

I think it’s also interesting to note, the Bakeneko, which is described as an omen of death and misfortune isn’t the only way we see cats used thematically within the game. Albeit, this way is more subtle and perhaps intentionally so. We also see the maneki-neko; the lucky cat statues are everywhere in game. In V’s apartment, Misty’s shop, Vik’s clinic. Everyyyyyywhereeeeee. 

So, we see two mythological cats from Japanese culture. One brings misfortune and one brings good luck. And Johnny exemplifies both. 

Johnny is a visual representation of all that is destroying V. His mere existence and presence a constant reminder that their death is around the corner. An ever present omen that V’s clock is ticking. He also often pops up to have a comment just before massive relic malfunctions and disasters. The end of every main game quest is punctuated with a relic malfunction and a lecture from Johnny. 

But without the chip and by extension Johnny, V would already be dead. If the chip hadn’t been the exact right place to be damaged and activated by the gunshot; it would have killed V right then and there. And while this wasn’t an active choice on Johnny’s part, he is the visual representation of the chip. Even then, he later does make an active choice to save V’s life. When V is hit with the worst malfunction yet; Johnny grabs them, “you aren’t dying yet, I got you” and he takes them to safety. He refuses to watch V seize and die in a puddle of their own sick in the middle of nowhere (for me it’s always at the sunset hotel, idk if this changes based on the order you do the events tho) So, he takes control, he eases their pain and takes them somewhere safe, somewhere that means something to him, and swears to die for them. 

Luck both good and bad. Fortune and misfortune. A sign of better days and an omen of death. A maneki-neko and a bakeneko. The time bomb in V’s head and the guy who saved their life. He is both. 

Now, stepping away from the mythological aspects. Lets talk about Nibbles the cat, Johnny, and pets within Cyberpunk 2077. Animals and by extension pets are considered a luxury in Night City. They’re taxed to fuck and back, generally only the wealthy can have them. Its also often brought up that real friends and family who stick by you are very difficult to come by. V becomes through Nibbles one of the rare people to have a pet. One of the other people who had a pet is, Barry their neighbor. 

Barry and his mission is one of the first you can unlock and see in the game. He’s V’s downstairs neighbor and his story is played out so fucking similarly to V’s. Barry lost his best friend, he’s quit his job because he can’t handle the weight of the NCPD’s corruption, and he’s thinking of taking his own life.  V has lost Jackie, its stated in game they get less work than usual because of Konpeki (cant be put on a crew), and very early on can say to Misty “be better off putting in my head”. 

But for Barry that friend ends up being a pet tortoise. And its clear what that tortoise represents; a constant companion, a safe place, and a comfort. Something Barry couldn’t find among his peers until later on when they learn just how much he’s been hurting. And this is treated as such a tragedy, that he only has a pet to turn to. 

And so V gets a cat, because they too are fucking hurting and having a little meowing bundle of skin running around their apartment helps. Something to come home to, something to make that apartment a little less empty, a little more alive. 

So, how does this particular aspect of Nibbles/cats/pets relate to Johnny, I hear you wondering (as well as wondering when Im going to shut up). Well, we know Johnny is linked symbolically with cats and thats the choice of pet for V. And we knows pets have been likened to support without judgement; a companion who you can tell everything too and they won’t abandon you. 

And while Johnny has heaps of judgment and is a dick. He is V’s only constant companion. I know a good junk of people don’t like him or his commentary; but imagine V’s life without Johnny in it through the game events. Imagine how lonely they’d be. 

Johnny is the only one who knows everything and is there with V from the start to the final moments in Mikoshi. 

Vik and Misty know, but they’re no edgerunners, they have no idea everything V is doing out there. Part of why as much as I do love Vik, his frustration with V hurts so much in the end because he talks like V hasn’t done anything to save themselves. Because, Vik doesn’t know what V’s been doing this whole time. 

Each part of the main quests in Act 2 are linked to an NPC; Judy, Panam, and Takemura. And not one of them know or are there throughout the entirety of V’s journey. Judy doesn’t get told the full details of what’s happening until later in and stops helping V one Evelyn is saved. Panam doesn’t learn the full details or anything really about the chip until much later. And her quests become her own personal journey once V finds Hellman. And then depending on V’s choices, Panam can come in to help at the end. Takemura knows V is dying and is there to help with the parade and then he’s gone; either dead or in hiding. He refers to anything that doesn’t involve him as V’s shady dealings and leaves it at that. He’s there to interrogate Hellman but he doesn’t know all V did to find him. None of them know everything, none of them have been there the whole time. And that’s not a condemnation of them, I do not expect them to drop everything to be glued to V’s side 24/7 but, I can’t fucking imagine how alone V feels. 

River has no involvement in any main quests and only finds out anything if V chooses to romance him. Kerry knows what Johnny told him and depending on the ending may even leave V. Again, wanna be clear, that isn’t a condemnation on his character. I understand why he does this and i understand his hurt and how it led him to that. 

But this is about how truly fucking alone V is in all of this. Not a single person there start to finish, not a single person knowing all that they have suffered, all that they have been through and are going through. 

Except Johnny. He tells V in the oil fields, closest to him by far, there 24/7, yet they don’t seem to hate him. And he’s that for V too; there the entire way, their demon never leaving.  Johnny knows everything happening; because he’s part of what’s happening. He’s been there through every struggle, every step, every slap in the face as V’s tried to save themselves. Has felt their pain as they lose themselves, has known the people who’ve had to die for them to get this far, as felt their heart break when all they found was betrayal by the Voodoo Boys, Ai Alt asking how V’s life is her problem, getting recommended a hospice by Hellman. 

And as dickish as he is, his comments help. V always has someone there, as much as he sucks. He always has something stupid or naggy to say to help keep some of that weight off their shoulders. Imagine if they didn’t even have that. If Johnny never talked to them, never showed his face. 

A constant companion, like a supportive pet cat except he can talk and did a lot of meth. 

And this is a sidenote that has nothing to do with cats specifically, but that through Samurai music this isn’t the first time Johnny could be compared to an omen. Its no secret that the music was largely created around the game and as such, many of his songs have direct parallels and messages related to the game. Never Fade Away while in universe written in regards to Alt’s death also has so much in common with his journey with V. This brings me to the song Black Dog.

“Black Dog inside my head, guiding me until the end.”

Black Dogs are figures in Irish Mythology  who much like bakeneko’s are talked about in game; are omens of death and misfortune. I just find it interesting I suppose, like Johnny is either a dirty alley cat or a big mangy dog, but either way he’s here cause someones about to die.

Okay this is well over a thousand words, Imma shut up now. This is probably a mess, but anyone here for coherency is in the wrong place. 

[evermorehaikyuu]

Day 14

Title: Soulmates? Not Exactly. 

Note: I was listening to Tightrope as I wrote this and now I’m sad, highkey, I teared up at the end. ANYWAYS, no deaths here, just angst. Man, I really did enjoy writing this, though.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.•°*”˜.•°*”˜ 

Do your best. 

Those were the words engraved on his wrist and Tanaka almost had an aneurysm at the sight. Most of the time, the words came out when people were fourteen or thirteen, and they had years to find out who their soulmate was. But Tanaka had received his at seventeen. When he read them, he was as excited as ever. They seemed like common words but only someone specific would tell him. 

His childhood best friend, Y/N L/N, hadn’t gotten hers yet and she was always wondering why. “I probably don’t have a soulmate.”

“Cheer up, Y/N, I’m sure there are other people like you.” Tanaka said, before realizing that it was actually a rude thing to say and tried to backpedal. “Wait, I’m sorry, that was mean--”

Y/N looked at him, shaking her head with a small smile. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’ll find love I guess, I don’t need a soulmate to find love.” 

However, it still made her dejected as she saw couples holding hands on the streets, their wrists marked with a small yet visible circle to say that they’ve found their soulmate. Her wrists were blank every time she saw them.

High school came and went as quickly as a monarch butterfly. Y/N could only watch as her best friend got a new crush on his manager.

“What if she isn’t the one? What if she isn’t my soulmate?” Tanaka complained as he lied across her lap back at her house. He looked down at his wrist, the bold black words shining and reflecting at him. They would tell him who he would spend the rest of his life with. 

~

It was the day before one of the biggest games of the entire season. Tanaka was preparing himself and training in order to get himself to his highest potential. He was ready, he was good to go, he knew his game plan and everything. While he wasn’t the smartest person academically (thankfully, Y/N helped him pass with at least decent grades) , when it came to his sport, he was right on the spot.

Heading to the gym, Takeda and Kiyoko had said something about their old banner and they pulled it out, taking the team aback as they watched the two characters across a silky black labarum. Kiyoko stammered over her words before looking to the side, a deep blush in her cheeks. “Do your best.”

The third and second years stayed there, staring at her while letting tears come out of their eyes. Incoherently babbling, Tanaka and Nishinoya held onto each other, thinking that this was the happiest day of their entire lives.

“Wait. Ryu, what are the words on your wrist?” Nishinoya said after they pulled themselves together.

Tanaka checked the words on his wrist and he grinned widely. “Now I have to go and talk to her and see if she’s my soulmate!”

“Lucky!” Nishinoya groaned, shaking his head as he looked at the inside of his wrist. It was in a different language, and that both excited him and made him sigh. Adventure was going to be in his grasp, but he was slightly disappointed. It didn’t matter.

Tanaka looked after Kiyoko, hearts in his eyes. He started walking to the bus and turned around hearing, “Ryu!”

Y/N was racing towards him, her hair windblown. He wondered what she was doing here on a Saturday morning. “I wanted to see you before you go to your game!”

“I wish you could come with us, see your best friend in action.” Tanaka chuckled.

Something about those words tugged at Y/N’s heartstrings. Was it “best friend”? No, that couldn’t be, she had no feelings for her best friend. He wasn’t hers, he was someone else’s. She didn’t even know what her soulmate would tell her. She looked down at her wrist, changing the topic, and shook her head. “Nothing yet.”

Tanaka looked at her, pity in his eyes. He bit his lip, not wanting to tell her that he had found his soulmate. He didn’t even question the fact that he didn’t have a circle replacing the words in his wrist. It’d be inconsiderate of him and as much as he teased her about it, his goal was not to aggravate her about it. “You’ll get it soon. Remember what you told me? You don’t need words on your wrist to find love. You’ll find your other soon.”

“TANAKA!” Daichi hollered from inside the bus.

He looked up at the bus and back at Y/N, smiling. “I’ll come over later if you want? We can get your favorite snacks and watch your favorite movie.”

She nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, putting her head on his chest as he pulled her closer to him, a soft and fond smile directed towards her. He pulled away from her and got onto the bus. The bus departed immediately after he took his seat.

Y/N watched as the bus got out of her sight, a small and quizzical frown on her face. What was she feeling? There was no way she had fallen for someone with a soulmate already, even worse when that person was her best friend. All she could do is shove those feelings away. They could be dealt with another day. She started walking back home, the breeze flowing through her hair. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize she was right in front of her house until her body subconsciously opened the door.

Tell me, Tanaka, what does it feel like to be guaranteed love?

~

It was the perfect day. Bright smiles were plastered on everyone’s faces. Nothing would be able to ruin this day, Y/N was absolutely sure of it. She would be damned if something came in between her best friend’s wedding. Everything was planned down to the smallest detail, from the groom’s boutonnière to the bride’s flowers.

Tanaka and Kiyoko, the duo that people half expected but never expected that this day would come for them. It was like walking a tightrope. It didn’t matter.

He was in his room, getting ready until his wedding day jitters kicked in. “Shit...where’s Y/N?”

As if on cue, Y/N knocked and walked inside, ready in her blue bridesmaid dress. It was obvious that her stylist had made sure that her hair brought out her eyes and when she walked into a room, the radiance coming off of her made everyone’s jaw drop. It didn’t fail on Tanaka. He stared at her, a gentle smile crossing his face as he recalled the times they had in high school. “You look gorgeous.”

“Ryu, don’t say that on your wedding day.” She grinned at him, closing the door behind them. “Nervous?”

“You know me too well.” Tanaka waved her over, sitting in the chair across from her. He stared at his bouncing legs, wringing his hands together. “What if she says no?”

“For one, that’s a waste of cake, I’d be offended. I spent hours looking for the perfect cake and if she doesn’t eat it, what a shame.” Y/N said, making him laugh. Just that laugh in itself made her smile. She took it upon herself to be the one that would make him smile when he couldn’t and she never failed. She never planned to. “But in all seriousness, she won’t say no. You two have come too far for her to back down now.”

“But--”

“Nope. It’s your day. Enjoy it. She’d be insane if she didn’t say yes, you treat her so well.” She found herself saying the words with a bittersweet tone. It had been years and she tried to cover that tone up, but it was impossible. 

He took a deep breath and nodded. “I think I’m ready.”

“Do your best.”

“I think I can do more than my best if you’re by my side.” Tanaka smiled at her and said, “I think they’re calling you. It’s your turn.”

“Right.” With a quick hug, she rushed to get in her place, feeling a tingly sensation on her wrist. With her heart pounding, she turned her wrist over and found black letters slowly appearing. I think I can do more than my best if you’re by my side. 

Oh no. Oh no no no no. This can’t be happening. Y/N stared at the words, recalling what Tanaka had said. Of all days for her to finally get the words she’d wanted all her life, it had to be on the day that her best friend--no, her soulmate--was getting married to someone else. 

Following the bridesmaids down the aisle, Tanaka looked over at Y/N, but Y/N could not look at him as she held her mini bouquet tighter. Nothing would stop this day. Nothing would ruin this day. Not even if the universe was laughing at her misfortune.

Kiyoko walked down the aisle, looking dazzling in her ornate white dress and holding pink, red and white flowers in a bouquet. Y/N watched as Tanaka stared at her, tearing up as Kiyoko reached the altar. Both of them looked over at her and she nodded in reassurance. What Y/N was thinking was that she was the one that had to be in the dress. Kiyoko didn’t belong there, it was her.

But as they sealed their union with a kiss and cheers started flying up, Y/N found herself clapping along with the audience. A single tear started falling down her cheek and she quickly brushed it away with her hand, trying not to ruin her makeup. People would assume she was ecstatic for the newlyweds: after all, it was the friend that she’d been with all her life. There was only one thing wrong with that statement. 

It wasn’t a tear of happiness. It was a tear of losing someone she could’ve had.

I was too late. 

~

Taglist: @skyguy-peach​ @jovialnoise​ @versatilewindow​ @tsukiibaka​ @jaegersblogh​ @kodzuken-pie​ @sugusho​ @kara-grayson04​ @erialexerz​ @attixca​ @volleybloop​ @selca11​ @osterfield-hollandwriter​ @seiijixca @t4bi4-and-b4ba​

[theladyofdeath]

In the Bleak Midwinter {9}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: i mean, we’re almost at the very middle of this beast, so....

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

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The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

The second Gavriel opened his eyes, he felt like shit. His head was pounding, the need to puke was unbearable, and it only worsened when he rolled onto his side and caught sight of who laid next to him.

He blinked, then looked around to make sure he was in the right room.

He was.

But what the fuck was Natalia doing beside him?

Nude, at that.

It took every ounce of self control not to curse out loud as Gavriel slowly scooted to the edge of the bed and pushed himself off the mattress. He grabbed his trousers, shirt, and shoes off the floor before hurrying out into the hallway.

Where Fenrys and Connall stood.

They both looked up at him, frozen in place, as he shut his bedroom door behind him.

Fenrys opened his mouth to ask for an explanation, no doubt, but Gavriel quickly said, “Don’t ask.”

“Is there a woman in there?” Connall asked. “Who the fuck could you possibly-.”

His words trailed off and his mouth fell open. Then, as Gavriel yanked on his pants, the twins slowly looked at one another with recognition in their eyes.

“Not a fucking word,” Gavriel muttered, buttoning up his shirt after slipping on his shoes as he walked down the hall, toward the staircase. 

Fenrys and Connall were close behind as they all swept into the dining room for breakfast.

It seemed they were the last to arrive. With the exception of Natalia, of course.

Aedion’s eyes swept over Gavriel as he plopped down in the chair across from his son. With his mouth full of bacon, Aedion asked, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Too much to drink,” Gavriel muttered, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

“When was the last time you’ve been hungover, Gav?” Rowan asked, humored, from the head of the table. 

Gavrel just shrugged. “Good to see you up and walking around,” he said, instead, nodding to Aedion.

Aedion shot a glance to the seat next to him, where Lysandra sat. “I have a good caretaker.” 

“Don’t make me tear up, my hormones are out of control,” Aeliln said, from the seat next to Rowan.

Lysandra only grinned. 

Lucy began to fuss on Lorcan’s lap, and he let her down to walk around. “Has anyone seen Natalia? She wasn’t there to get Lucy up this morning. I’m worried.”

The grins that were shot at Gavriel from Fenrys and Connall made Gavriel’s skin crawl. 

“Don’t,” he warned.

Which was just as bad as anything they were going to say, apparently.

Lorcan looked from the twins, to Gavriel, then down to Gavriel’s wrinkled clothes before meeting his gaze with hardened eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Aedion’s eyes widened as Fenrys and Connall began to laugh. Gavriel dropped his fork against the table before putting his face in his hands.

“Fuck,” Rowan muttered, from down the table. “Seriously? The nanny?”

Even Vaughan was grinning. 

“I was drunk,” Gavriel mumbled, into his hands. 

“Too drunk apparently,” Lorcan scolded.

“Oh, this is great,” Lysandra said, and when Gavriel looked up from his hands, she was watching him with her chin propped on her fists.

Aedion was practically bouncing in his seat. “Damn, the old man still gets it.”

“I’m not that old,” Gavriel muttered.

“She is, though,” Lorcan said, under his breath, and if nothing else, Gavriel thought, at least his misfortune was making Lorcan smile.

But Gavriel still mumbled, “Fuck off.” 

“How was she?” Fenrys asked. “Was it...was she...I mean…”

“Just stop,” Gavriel said, shaking his head. “I’m not talking about this.”

“Why not?” Rowan asked, one brow raised. “Because it was shit or because you can’t remember?”

Gavriel hesitated. No, he couldn’t remember.

The table erupted into laughter. 

Gavriel pushed himself up from the table and mentioned that he was taking a walk before heading out of the dining room.

“Wait!” Aedion called after him. “Is she going to be my new mommy?”

Gavriel threw a vulgar gesture over his shoulder before making himself scarce. 

~~~~~

Aelin walked down Main Street.

She wore a fitted skirt, loving to show off the little bump that had been growing bigger by the day. It was her first time out of the estate since Elide’s death and Rowan had been against it but Aelin claimed she needed to get out of the confines of her own house before she completely lost her mind. Besides, she was only going to see her father, then she’d return home to safety.

Which was what she promised Rowan a thousand times before they went their separate ways. 

Aelin entered Rhoe’s office without a knock and made herself at home in a cushioned armchair.

He looked up, slowly took off his glasses, then asked, “You came here alone?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Contrary to what all you men think, I am capable of taking care of myself.”

Rhoe’s eyes drifted from his daughter’s to her belly, then back up again. “How’s my grandchild?”

“He made me refuse French toast at breakfast this morning, so, as of right now, we’re not on speaking terms.”

Rhoe snorted. “He?”

A sly grin formed on Aelin’s lips. “Mother's intuition.” 

Rhoe just shook his head. “As much as I love you, Fireheart, is there a reason you’re here? I prefer you stay safe at home.” As Aelin opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand. “I know, you can protect yourself, but I like to know that you’re both safe.”

Aelin sighed, putting her hand protectively on her bump. “I just came to give you an update. Rowan wants to set another trap for Maeve's men, but after the last time, I’m sure she’ll be suspicious. Either way, you and the guys are being called on for help. Plan on Sunday.”

“Okay,” Rhoe began, without any hesitation. “And Aedion?”

“Healing as he should be,” Aelin promised.

Rhoe blew out a slow, steady breath. Even though Aedion and Gavriel had formed a good relationship, Rhoe still thought of his nephew as a son.

“Well, nice talk,” Aelin said, standing up abruptly.

Rhoe blinked. “And where are you going?”

“The bakery,” Aelin replied, simply. “Ro is expecting me when the hour is up and I need a dozen muffins to keep this child growing inside of my womb pleased.”

Rhoe hesitated. “Let me walk you.”

“Do you seriously think Maeve would shoot a pregnant woman?” Aelin asked, shaking her head.

Rhoe hesitated, then pushed himself up from his desk.

“I’m not taking the chance.”

“Gods, dad, Vaughan is just around the corner, waiting there to take me back home. Alright? It’s more dangerous for you to be out there than me. I just want some chocolate muffins. Okay? The baby wants muffins.”

Rhoe watched his daughter wearily for a long moment before nodding, at last. She could tell he didn’t like it, but also knew that if he kept protesting, she would only argue with him.

So, she kissed her father on the cheek while he mumbled something about her being just like her mother, then she was off, hurrying across the street to the bakery, where she loaded up on chocolate muffins before heading back down Main Street, where Vaughan waited. 

He was sitting in the street car, and Aelin could see him in the distance. He was flipping through the paper, surely looking at any small hint or sign of Maeve. His feet were propped up through the window, and Aelin didn’t know why, but she always loved when Vaughan had his guard down. He was always so put together, always so calm and collected. 

It was nice to see him relaxed.

His eyes snapped up as she approached, her heels thudding along the dirt path as she came closer to the car.

“Miss me?” she asked as she approached.

Vaughan only chuckled as he pulled his long legs back into the car and folded the paper up, neatly. 

Then, he tensed, and Aelin froze. Before he could react, his eyes were growing wide, and Aelin knew something horrible was about to happen when Vaughan, who hadn’t said a single word since he returned home from the war, opened his mouth and yelled two little words in a raspy, broken voice. 

“Get down!”

She did so without hesitation, the muffins in the paper sack she held falling to the ground as Aelin fell to her knees and covered her head, just as the shot rang out. After a violent swear, Aelin was looking over her shoulder, where the shot had come from. A large man in a baggy suit and striped fedora stood there, his gun still pointed in their direction.

Aelin was crawling the small distance to the car, where Vaughan now had his gun pointed at the stranger, but it was not Vaughan’s gun that rang out a second time, but the enemy’s. 

Vaughan’s head jerked back as his hand flew up to his chest, his body falling back into the leather seats. 

Aelin froze as she realized what was happening, as a crimson stain began to pool just beneath Vaughan’s ivory collar. She reached for him, but he shook his head and held out his weapon.

Aelin took the pistol into her shaky hands and twirled around to where the man still was. 

Another bullet flew at her, and missed.

Then Aelin fired.

Once. 

Twice.

Three times, three shots, three chances.

And one hit him just between his eyes.

The man crumbled to the ground but Aelin didn’t wait to see what happened next, because her attention had returned to Vaughan, who was holding a hand against his skin. Blood spilled between his fingers, and Aelin’s panic grew.

His eyes were losing focus. 

“Hey,” she breathed, taking his face into her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Hey, stay with me, okay? I’m going to get you home. Alright? Stay with me, Gav will get the bullet out, yeah?”

She could see the terror in his eyes.

Vaughan opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Aelin took one last look at the man lying dead in the dirt before she shoved Vaughan into the middle of the front bench with all of her strength and started the car.

She had only driven a car once, and Rowan had been trying to teach her the entire time, but she absolutely failed. So now, as she attempted to make sense of what was in front of her, her panic only grew. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but whatever she started doing seemed to work, because the car took off. She ignored the looks they got as she drove. It was unusual for a woman to be behind the wheel, and incredibly unusual for a car to be speeding through city streets. 

“Five minutes,” Aelin begged, sneaking a look at Vaughan. His head was leaned back against the top of the seat, his body slumped. The hand he had been using to try and slow the bleeding had fallen down to his abdomen, and his eyes were shutting.

“No,” she hissed, reaching over with one hand to place it over the gunshot wound. Her hand instantly became soaked with his blood.

She drove as quickly as she could, one hand on the wheel, the other pressed down against Vaughan’s chest. She knew she was crying, could taste the saltiness of her tears streaming into her open lips as she left the city behind and made her way to the estate. 

By the time she began driving down the long driveway, Aelin was a mess, and Vaughan’s eyes had shut.

“No!” she screamed at him, but he didn’t move. She could feel his steady heartbeat, though, could see the rise and fall of his chest. 

“Help!” Her voice came out loudly, brutally, a piercing cry as she pulled up in front of the house. She tried to concentrate, tried to turn off the car, but her thoughts were only on Vaughan.

His words replayed in her mind. 

Get down!

He had broken his vow of silence to save her, and her baby’s, life.

The front door of the estate was tossed open and Connall appeared, his lazy grin disappearing as his eyes widened. Aelin didn’t hear what he yelled, but she saw the panic in his round eyes. Before she could collect her thoughts, the others were there - Fenrys, Gavriel, Lorcan - and they were taking Vaughan out of the car and inside.

Aelin felt numb.

She watched as they dragged Vaughan into the house, his body disappearing.

In the distance, she saw a black mare appear, Rowan atop it. 

Aelin was still behind the wheel of the car, the motor running, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. 

Vaughan had disappeared, but his blood remained on the seat beside her. She had done everything she could, had tried her very hardest to get him here, to safety, to people who could help.

She only hoped it was enough. 

Rowan’s voice filled the silence, breaking through the ringing in her ears. 

“Aelin, look at me!”

He sounded so distant, but she could feel his touch. 

Her eyes slowly drifted toward his.

“What happened?” he asked.

Green eyes swept over her body, and she knew she was covered in blood.

“Not mine,” she whispered, or thought she did.

Rowan reached over her and turned off the car before he opened the door and helped her out. He swept her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest, as they entered the house. Aelin could hear screaming  in the distance, but she only closed her eyes. 

Lysandra’s voice filled the air, giving Rowan a rundown of what had happened, or the basics of what had happened, but Aelin could hardly hear. She remained in Rowan’s arms, fingers clinging to his shirt as he carried her up the stairs.

They entered their bedroom and Rowan closed the door behind them as Vaughan’s screaming abruptly stopped.

It never got easier, this life, the death, the horrors of it all. She remembered, years ago, watching Sam die in her arms, her first love, her old friend. She watched her mother die, too, when she was only just a child, and although it was more peaceful then what had happened to Sam, to Elide, to Vaughan...it was death, and death lingered. 

When the screaming didn’t continue, Aelin began to panic.

Rowan saw it, and shook his head, slowly. “Gavriel got the bullet out, that’s all.” 

Aelin nodded, but she wasn’t so sure. She should go up there, should watch, should be with her friend who had been hurt because of her, but she couldn’t convince herself to, not as her hands shook uncontrollably.

Rowan sat her on the edge of the bed and knelt before her, taking those hands into his. His eyes softened, but his jaw locked. “You killed him, then?”

Aelin nodded, mutely. 

A breath left Rowan’s body. “I need you to tell me what happened, Ae.”

“A man came out of nowhere,” Aelin whispered, eyes unfocused as they stared at the wall over her husband’s shoulder. “Vaughan yelled at me to get down, then a shot went off, then another.”

Rowan’s body tensed, his hands around hers going still. He must have been thinking the same thing she had: Vaughan had broken his silence to protect her.

“Vaughan went down in the car and I crawled to him and took his gun and shot the guy in the head,” Aelin said, hurriedly, wanting the story, the horrendous memory, to be done with. 

For a moment, Rowan said nothing. Then, he pushed himself onto his feet and began to pace. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”

“I made my own decision,” Aelin said, but her voice was empty. “And it may have cost Vaughan his life.”

Rowan stopped and turned to her, his brows furrowed. She quickly wiped a tear that had fallen down her cheek with bloodstained fingers as Rowan said, “No. No, hey.” He was in front of her, once more, taking her face into his hands and tilting her head up, forcing her to meet his weary eyes. “Vaughan knew what he was doing when he said he’d drive you into town. Okay? He offered, I didn’t ask, and he wanted to get out of this damned house as much as you did.”

Aelin nodded, but she felt no comfort. Her tears only fell heavier as she said, “I’m so fucking tired of this, Ro.”

His hands fell from her face as he resumed his pacing, slower this time. “I know.”

That was it, there was nothing more to say. They could scream and get mad, could plan and hide and cower, but all of that could be summed up into one exhausted sentence: I’m so fucking tired of this.

Rowan went to the double doors on the far end of their room and threw them open, walking out onto the balcony for fresh air. Aelin didn’t follow him. Instead, she waited for her tears to dry and her hands to stop shaking before she pushed herself back up on her feet and went down the hall, where Vaughan laid.

~~~~~

Vaughan had lost a lot of blood, but Aelin had done everything she could, Lorcan knew it, and he knew it wasn’t an easy position to be in.

Vaughan had blacked out just as Gavriel was pulling the bullet out.

He was still breathing, but he hadn’t woken up. 

Time would tell.

Lorcan couldn’t bear it, though, couldn’t bear being in the room, hearing his screams, seeing the blood.

It was too much.

It was too soon. 

So he ran out of the back of the house, desperate for air. His chest was heaving as the door shut behind him, and he only took a few steps before he was brought down to his knees, sobbing, falling into the soft, green grass. 

He needed a drink.

He needed a smoke.

He needed his wife.

As he rolled onto his back, his sobs fading, his eyes opened and he was left staring up at the sky. The sun had gone away, hidden behind a herd of dark gray clouds. He laid there, perfectly still, trying to catch his breath. 

Then he wasn’t alone, not anymore.

He turned his head, another tear falling from his dark eyes as he caught her beauty. She was in the dress he’d met her in, that day so long ago, when she showed up at Hellas for a job as a barmaid. Her hair was shorter, then, her plump lips a ruby red.

“Elide,” he whispered her name, desperately, wanting her to be real, knowing she wasn’t.

She only smiled, brightly, and her voice was quiet when she replied, “My love.” 

Lorcan rolled onto his side to stare at her, to breathe her in for as long as it lasted, for as long as she stayed. Sometimes she stayed for a few seconds, sometimes for a few minutes, but it never lasted long enough, it was never enough. 

“I miss you,” he breathed.

“I miss you, my love.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, my love.”

He wondered if it was real, if it was her ghost visiting him from beyond, because their love was that powerful. Or, he wondered if it was all in his mind, if the grief was making him go mad. He didn’t care, though, as long as she was with him. 

Even if it wasn’t real.

Even if she wasn’t really there.

He reached out to brush his fingers across her pale cheek, but he didn’t feel a thing. 

He could talk and envision all he wanted, but he would never be able to touch her, kiss her, wrap her in his arms again. 

So he pulled his hand back to his side as he took a deep, shuddering breath. 

His voice was broken when he begged, “Come back to me.”

Elide’s weary eyes met his, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she began to sing a soft lullaby, one she’d sung to Lucy countless times. Lorcan closed his eyes, and let his wife’s soft, soothing voice carry him into a deep sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

@mariamuses  @garnet-29  @writer-reader-traveller  @rowaelin-cressworth  @space-buns-arsinoe  @negativenesta  @empress-ofbloodshed  @the-regal-warrior  @starseternalnighttriumphant  @westofmoon  @sammyjojaaaa  @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter  @carbconnoisseur @acer6437  @lorcansalvatearupmyheart  @cool-ish-nerd  @mynewdreamwasyou  @mourning-razorlust  @thespiritualrider  @rowaelinforeverworld  @didsomeonesayviolin  @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit  @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks  @queen-of-glass  @the-dark-swan  @http-itsrebecca  @holdingon-21@babycardan @tswaney17  @mollycateoc  @chemicha  @bat-wing-rhys @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thespiritualrider  @luna-the-little @morebooks-pls  @shyvioletcat  @hermajestyanna  @a97girl  @stardustsroses  @queenofthemoon22 @alifletcher2012  @awkward-avocado-s  @faerie-queen-fireheart  @cwheart  @lovemollywho @emilyrose111294  @nerdperson524  @sleeping-and-books @cursebreaker29 @flora-and-fae @feyrethedarklady @the-dark-swan @rowaelinforeverworld @sjmsstuff @januarystears @mis-lil-red  @acourtofmoonlight   @rowaelinforeverworld  @courtofmaasdestruction @jjellybean  @thewayshedreamed  @wind-drinker  @aelin-rowan-whitehorn  @starseternalnighttriumphant  @hurema @http-itsrebecca  @lorcansalvatearupmyheart  @cityofchelsea16 @januarystears  @iliketoasterstrudels  @lightitup-bryce  @yikesitsmaddie @feyrethedarklady @i-love-all-books  @keshavomit  @sleeping-and-books @scarznstars  @http-itsrebecca @cat5313 @moondancer-204  @booklover242 @belamoonbeam @they-call-me-cuatro   @b00kworm  @mu-si-ca-l   @thegayerpotato  @abraxos-is-toothless  @keshavomit  @musicdreamer003   @superspiritfestival  @sailorsassley  @mymultiversee @alxanxah @viviaannvu123  @mysweetvillain @theghostlyharrypooperfan @highqueenofelfhame​  @shyvioletcat @maastrash @the-third-me​ 

[josefavomjaaga]

Letters from the second half of 1814

I know I’ve been neglecting my translations over the holidays; sorry for being lazy. Here are the final letters relating to chapter 2 of Helfert »Joachim Murat«.

Mier to Metternich. (In chiffres) Naples, November 12, 1814.

My Prince!

The bad news brought by Prince Alliano did not transpire to the public; the government hides them carefully. The Duke of Gallo did not communicate them to me, and I know the King forbid him to do so.

At first the King was dismayed, but afterwards he only dreamt of war, plans of campaign, plans of defence. I begged the Queen to calm him down, to urge him to keep quiet, not to spoil his affairs by a few false steps and to wait for the decision on his fate. It seems that she has succeeded, for since yesterday he has been more reasonable and tranquil. As I knew that he had conceived a project to occupy the Papal States militarily, I told him that Austria could only regard as a declaration of war every movement which the Neapolitan army would make into the interior of Italy without her consent, outside the limits assigned to it. Abandoned by the only power which protects him, he would be left without any support. These remarks have had an effect for the moment. If the powers decide to dethrone him, it is to be expected that he will have recourse to every conceivable means to maintain himself, and his raising the shield may bring incalculable misfortunes. I will use all the means at my disposal to urge him to keep quiet, but I beg Your Highness not to leave me in complete ignorance of the position of affairs, and to give me His orders and instructions on the conduct and language to be used.

May Your Highness accept the assurances of my highest consideration.

The request for more information and instruction almost sounds as if Mier himself, with all the rumours coming from Vienna, is getting insecure: »What am I supposed to tell him? We are still with Murat, right? We still support him?«

Metternich answers two weeks later with another, very long letter of reassurance: »Yes, yes, we are, but please tell him to for god’s sake keep quiet!«

Metternich to Mier (concept). Vienna, November 29, 1814.

I am taking advantage of the departure of the Count de Secsény for Naples to send you the present dispatches. This occasion being perfectly safe I will be quick in using it to inform you of the general position of affairs and of that which relates more directly to our relations with the Court at which you reside. My last dispatches proved to you that we had reports on the extraordinary movements the King is making in his military measures. Your last reports, including that of the 12th of this month, leave us in no doubt that he is in great agitation, and I flatter myself that the directions which I have transmitted to you will have put you in a position to make him aware of the bad impression produced here by the true or more or less exaggerated military dispositions, on which we receive daily reports from Italy. I am sending you herewith a copy of a dispatch from Paris which will prove to you that the same indications are generally widespread.

Whatever may be the case, the King is not following a wise course of action, and you will be kind enough, Count, to make him aware of the consequences which any false move could have for him. The observations you have made to him about the change of heart which appears to have been brought about by the arrival of Prince Alliano are very accurate. Anything which might force us to take extraordinary precautionary measures would perhaps lead us away from the line we have followed up to now with such consistency, and we are far from believing the King to be so firmly established that he need not fear to see us withdrawn, or to question before the public the protection which we have given him, and which alone has sustained him up to now. The King's existence is opposed throughout Europe; if we abandon him he will fall. His fall may be accompanied by convulsions; but they will never be strong enough to become truly dangerous to us, and all the powers united against Naples would soon reduce this power to nothing.

You will return to the King my reflections, by making him foresee the necessity in which the General-in-Chief of our army in Italy would find himself to take precautionary measures on his side, if the Neapolitan army were to continue to concentrate on points which are threatening for the safety of the peninsula.

The Duke of Campo-Chiaro will no doubt send to his court the overtures which I made to him two days ago in the name of Cardinal Consalvi, in response to orders which had reached him from Rome. These overtures make it easier for the King to adopt a friendly attitude towards the only neighbour he has, an attitude which we have long wished to see him adopt, and which has previously been rejected by exaggerated claims which we have encountered in the Court in Rome. I am enclosing a copy [seems to be missing] of the instruction which I am sending today to the Chevalier de Lebzeltern. You will please support the position which I have been defending for a long time vis-à-vis the Duke of Campo-Chiaro, and on which I have always found him in agreement with me without him having concealed from me the difficulty which he foresaw he would encounter in the mind of the King, namely: That the strongest attitude which this Prince can take will always be that of putting himself in a passive situation; of proving by the fact that he wants nothing from anyone, but that he is not anxious about the means of resisting any attack on the part of the foreigner; of proving no less to his people and to Europe the confidence which he bears in the only power which, in spite of so many opposing motives, has not varied in its principles of conduct towards him. Now, with Austria covering Naples from any attack on the mainland, there remains to the King a very simple means of attaining this aim by not spreading anxiety in Italy by military demonstrations which would prove in the last resort that he has reason to distrust us.

If the considerations which led you, more than five months ago, to advise the King to put himself on a good footing with the Holy Father, by putting aside the subjects of direct complaint, seemed to us to be sufficient to desire to see him return the Marches to Rome, these reasons have increased a great deal in recent times and they exist in all their strength today. We are approaching the end of the negotiations in Vienna. The King will be obliged at that time to withdraw his troops from the provinces which he has for a long time placed at our disposal; he will then no longer have the merit of having acted by a free and spontaneous will, and the attitude the Pope would be obliged to take, and which seems to us to be eminently useful, today that all the negotiations are open, will lose all its value the day when Europe will have established itself by the conclusion of the negotiations in Vienna. Everything that may be spread by scribblers about the probability of a continental war is entirely unfounded. Russia makes exaggerated claims; Prussia covets portions of territory which we have many reasons for desiring to see restored to the control of their princes; but neither of these complications will lead to a quarrel. There is only one possible war in Europe: it is that which France would provoke by taking the tone too high. The memories of her are not sufficiently faded to prevent the former Allies from meeting again on the spot, and if these quarrels with the same Allies sometimes take on a more serious character, they never lose the character of domestic disputes which constantly turn against the foreigner who would try to interfere in them.

All the pains we could take to induce the Bourbon Courts to recognise King Joachim would be in vain; but strengthened by us, placed in direct relations with our other allies, the King of Naples will have everything to expect from time if he knows how to conduct himself calmly and wisely, whereas a single imprudence can lose him.

We count very much on your care, Count. You will render essential services to the cause of peace, if you contribute effectively to keeping the King on a wise course of action; the influence which you have acquired on his councils will never be more usefully employed to fix the relations between the two courts than at the present moment.

Receive etc. etc.

The next letters will already tell of Napoleon’s departure from Elba and thus belong to the third chapter.

[princesskokichi]

kokichi with a bubbly s/o who simps for him

omg so i think i went a little overboard, ,, 1.3k words which is a lot when usually for a single character requested it’s usually barely over 400 

kokichi requests just hit somewhere special in my heart & now it’s 03am so i’m paying for my love

i had a lot of fun with this request

and by that i mean i poured my entire soul into it because i just , i love him , so much

p.s there’s slight angst at the very end, i apologize greatly ( it’s not bad, it has a very uplifting message about s / o’s love for kokichi beyond just being a simp who’s madly in love with him ) - mod kokichi

- no one, literally no one, can understand how you put up with him daily like you do

- especially since you always look so happy ??

- you're just a ray of sunshine while he's running around destroying rainbows and stuff

- people would honestly call you two polar opposites in terms of personality

- your main hobby was hyping people up !!

- you loved being a good person

- and making others feel better about themselves when they need that extra supportive push ?? ?

- that's the best feeling in the world

- kokichi, on the other hand, did the exact opposite of that

- he would much rather insult someone ( miu, keebo ) until they give up fighting with him and succumb to his wishes

- that's how he's used to getting his way

- but with you ??

- it's like he doesn't even have to ask you, he can just do whatever he wants and you would be completely chill with it

- sometimes he tries really hard to see how far he can push you

- but you're almost never swayed with your conviction that he can do no wrong

- you're just,, , such a simp for your tinie gremlin boyfriend

- you can sit at a table while he's fucking shit up and just watch him do his thing for hours

- sometimes you hype him up, too, when he's doing something like planning world domination

- just because you know that he gets riled up even more when he knows he has your support in whatever he's doing

- s / o : " you so have this babie. the world is gonna be in the palm of your hands before you even know it. "

- kokichi : " yep !! just like how i have you in the palm of my hand. "

- s / o : " that's good, because i know i can trust you with me. plus your hands are always warm. "

- and then you'd snake your hands around his waist while behind him, taking the long way to grab his hand just so you can be snuggled up to his back

- and right then, even though he wouldn't admit it, he falls apart

- okay, maybe he's just as big of a simp for you as you are for him

- sometimes tho ???

- he swears you take simping to an extreme

- if he gets himself in a dangerous or harmful situation

- you go from being the most chill, friendliest person in the world

- to as dangerous - if not more - as maki

- and dear god don't let anyone talk negatively to him past the typical bantering back and forth

- if someone is actually speaking to him in order to hurt his feelings and not because he provoked them

- they've got you to deal with, the ult simp

- you get a little scary during that time

- but from a safe place hiding somewhere, kokichi is always hyping you up in some way

- even though he was scared for his life just a second ago, whenever you're involved, he knows nothing will ever happen to him

- plus it's really entertaining to watch someone who dresses so cutely and bubbly like you threaten to take on a man twice your size

- usually, he gets away with making someone chase after him out of anger with nothing more than a slap on the wrist

- it's kind of amazing how much you let him get away with

- although you are not one to ignore when something needs to be talked about

- most of his pranks and antics are harmless, but when they go too far, he needs to know

- so you're probably scolding him at least once a month

- and he knows, when you scold him, it's serious, and he takes it seriously

- but immediately after you revert to the soft W o w I Love My Babie mode, and demand cuddles with him as reconcile for making you worry

- and he's not allowed to say no to those cuddles

- it's on those nights where you actually have to put your foot down that he appreciates you a thousand times more

- and realizes for the hundredth time just how lucky he is to have you by his side

- everything you ever do is because you care about him

- but its something about when you're serious and not lackadaisical that really sets it in stone for him

- yes sometimes he purposely tries to push your buttons

- and sometimes you let him get away with so much stuff that even he gets a little concerned for your mental stability sometimes

- kokichi knows at the end of the day when your arms are around him in the dead of night, holding onto him as if he was the only thing in your life you couldn't bear to lose

- that you truly love him

- that you won't desert and abandon him

- this is a bit of a sad headcanon coming up but , ,,

[ slight angst warning ]

- ever since he was young, with no one to love him other than the members of d.i.c.e

- he'd always dreamt about someone like you who would love him for him

- for his flaws and all

- someone that doesn't want him to change who he is to fit the standards

- he wanted that person - he yearned for you, only without knowing it was you - but for years, he never got that person

- sometimes the only time he felt like he could get attention was when he did something especially havoc-inducing that ended with him getting a few bruises to bandage up

- kokichi was so used to hearing " no one wants to be around you " and " you're alone, kokichi, and you always will be. "

- and then you came into his life, bright and hopeful like the sun after a storm

- nothing seemed like it could ever scar you in this world, it would just bounce off of your shoulder and you'd continue to live your happy life

- who would want to hurt you anyways ? you were so nice. so kind. and thoughtful. and loving.

- your introduction into his life was so sudden and completely different from what he was used to

- because all of a sudden he had someone who would go out with him at 03am just for icecream

- and someone who knew how to take a joke, and someone who would never throw a single insult his way

- all of a sudden, kokichi had you

- sometimes it makes him wonder why you chose him

- someone who never seemed to give a damn about what the world threw at him, because he always found a twisted reason to smile at the misfortune of others since he was so upset with his own life that the only way he could feel better about it was to cause pain on others

- so why did you like,, him ?

- every time he asked you you'd look him dead in the eyes and say the same thing

- s / o : " you need someone in your life who will stay there. even if the only thing i accomplish in this life is making you happy with yourself and the world around you, then i think i'd have lived my life well, kokichi. "

- and then you'd cheekily smile, and no matter the setting would wrap your arms around him until he was in your tight embrace

- maybe it was because you would be crying

- maybe it was because he would be crying

- but the next thing you said would be so full of emotion he could hear your heart dripping in every word

- s / o : " i chose to stay with you because i want to. not because i'm forced to. not because you're my community project. i chose you, and i'll choose you over and over again, because i love you, kokichi oma. "

[1949coupe]

Freelance journalist and entrepreneur Tucker Benedict just wrote an open letter to Trump to remind him what it means to be American. Benedict’s message has officially set the internet on fire! Read it below:

Donald Trump,

My family immigrated to the United States of America on the third boat after the Mayflower. Our heritage precedes any records of Trumps, or Drumpfs, in America. Members of my family have served in every major conflict in US history with the exception of Iraq; your family cannot say the same. Yet, you continue to act as if you’ve sacrificed for the betterment of our country when the reality is: we don’t even know you’ve paid taxes half the time. Instead of acknowledging your past though, and honorably promising to change from a position of great entitlement, you accost service members you don’t care for, threaten democracy with attacks on the media, and worsen divides that threaten to tear America apart. Moreover, there’s a part of me that’s angry from a personal standpoint, my father founded the criminal divison of the EPA, and was the senior environmental prosecutor in the country until 2014, and whose storied career began with work on Watergate. You’ve destroyed his life’s work in under 7 months, but I’m not writing this from a position of anger or even from a personal standpoint, I’m trying to speak for a great many Americans who are understandably frightened for the future; who feel they’re watching the degradation of our way of life. This letter isn’t about me, or my feelings, but it is intended for you, Mr. President.

There’s a storm coming and as our enemies around the world lick their chops watching the division within America, we continue to charge towards a future in which we tear ourselves apart. Many of us, yourself included, seem to have forgotten what it means to be American. If our memory continues to fail and we forget entirely what being American truly means, we’ll not only lose our status as the world’s leader, we won’t deserve it anymore. This is not a world I can imagine nor that I have any desire to. Without America to serve as an eternal source of light within the darkness the world will be cast into chaos. In order to preserve what so many gave so much to obtain, we must first remember what it means to be American. While we seem hopelessly intertwined in a national, and very partisan, identity crisis we can only hope to pull out of it by remembering the lessons our founding father’s taught us all those years ago when they first defined, through their actions, what it means to be American.

Currently, there are a few misconceptions on what makes someone American; there seems to be a great deal of entitlement when considering the term. I was born a white male and a citizen of The United States of America but I don’t think that makes me an American. There seems to be a lot of controversy swirling around this notion but the reality is being born a certain way entitles me to nothing. The circumstances of birth don’t make you American, they never have, but actions do.

We earn our status as American through our actions day to day, month to month, and year to year. In doing the right thing by our loved ones, our countrymen, and ourselves we become American. There’s not flashy gesture or fancy piece of paper that can make you truly American but living the right way can; waking up and doing the right thing everyday, no matter how big or small the action, is what makes us American. It isn’t a static definition either, it’s a dynamic one just like we are as people; always changing, growing, and working towards the betterment of not only ourselves but our society as a whole. When considering how we define being American it’s worth noting those criteria.

When I voted it was in a densely populated, urban sector of Philadelphia. There were four booths for hundreds of people; many of whom were elderly and couldn’t stand for hours. It was a very telling few hours. Some of those elderly individuals struggling the most sported Make America Great Again hats. Instead of being happy at your supporter’s misfortune though I spent my day making trips to a conference room located at the back of the line hundreds of people long in order to ferry chairs to those who couldn’t stand. It wasn’t a big gesture or one that required a tremendous effort, it certainly DID NOT deserve any praise, because I knew it was merely the right thing to do for my fellow American. This attitude seems to be dying though, as we forget more and more what being American means. As I walked back and forth with chairs under each arm I watched many of my young peers barely look up from their phones; some even seemed noticeably annoyed that a fellow millennial would go out of his way to help your supporters. Make no mistake, those watching seemed to have forgotten what being American means just as much as anyone. When nobody joined in to help I was only made more aware of the change I’ve seen in my lifetime; the gradual shift many of us have noticed in our culture. It might seem subtle to some, but many have forgotten to do the right thing for no other reason than it helps another American. If this lack of support for each other continues to proliferate we’ll witness the decay of American values and worth This is something I attribute to the win at all cost/look out for yourself mentality that’s taken over politics and permeated into our culture; winning has become more important than standing up for each other. Americans used to do the right thing automatically, while many still do, others have stopped if there’s no reward or personal incentive. Americans used to help each other no matter who was President and that’s truly what made America great; our uniquely American loyalty. That loyalty, love, and solidarity saved us from the greatest threat the world has ever known, liberated Europe, and won two world wars. There’s been a change though. It’s apparent everywhere. We saw it when 23 of 24 Texas congressmen voted to deny aid when Hurricane Sandy hit, now faced with Harvey, Texans find themselves in an unfortunate position. This is merely one example of a larger problem within our society though and if this cancerous divisionist mentality continues to spread we’ll witness our downfall.

Hope is not lost though because it isn’t too late to start putting America, and each other, first again; all that’s required is remembering what made us Americans in the first place.

In school, when I was young and studying our history, I learned a great lesson; one I think is important enough to share. I learned that being an American isn’t something you obtain from being born here, or even from keeping other people out; being American is something you become through your actions and character. Defining what it meant to be an American was something our founding father’s sacrificed all that they had for.

Today, with all the modern luxuries we have it’s hard to understand being so passionate about something you’d die for it but our founders had that passion for the characteristics which would later define our nation. By fighting so fervently amongst ourselves that we forget the value of other Americans we put into jeopardy all that we have. It’s all of our duty to honor that which our founding father’s felt defined America. Honoring those traditions can mean different things to different people but all of us must find a way to honor them, every day if we are ever to truly Make America Great Again. This isn’t hard to do, it only takes remembering to do the right thing. I’m not perfect, in fact, I would consider myself the last person for anyone to take their cues from, but for me, I honor those traditions by trying to do the right thing every day to the best of my ability, whether it’s big or small, seen or unseen, noted or unnoticed. You see, if you remember to do the right thing, to treat others how you’d like to be treated, and do everything to the best of your ability, I promise everything else, all the nonsense in the media, won’t matter a single bit, because we’ll once again have a country of people who look out for one another. The alternative is unacceptable.

So Mr. President with this in mind I wanted to give you some advice for salvaging your presidency:

Tell the truth. In times of doubt, the truth is always the right answer. If lies are allowed to be believed as fact America will continue to forget that the real enemy isn’t each other, it’s those who seek to end democracy, freedom, and our way of life.

Stop defining what it means to be American from a partisan stance. You have no right. None of us do. Being American is defined by those who came before, and it’s defined by those whose examples will survive the test of time. If someone is willing to come here, work hard, abide by our laws, and protect our way of life, then you, Donald Trump, have no right to tell them they cannot be Americans. Being born to millions in New York, dodging your country’s call in its time of need, and verbally accosting service members does not make you the one to decide what it means to be an American.

Stop attacking the media. You bear a great responsibility; millions of Americans look to you for guidance and comfort during hardship. If you continue to point their anger at the media we may lose an integral pillar of democracy. If you do not you will cement your legacy as the enemy of democracy. History will condemn you.

Stop using radical Islam and immigrants as scapegoats to bring people together. We’ve seen in history scapegoats unite the masses but at great cost. Instead of pandering to the fears of your base you could teach them to accept. You’ve uniquely been able to reach the individuals that make up your base unlike any before you; you have the opportunity to take advantage of their love for you and to teach them that being American really means doing the right thing above all else. In doing this you could not only save your legacy but America as a whole.

There is a storm coming and it cannot be defeated by a divided nation; a storm that doesn’t care if you’re liberal or conservative, a storm that seeks to upend democracy, freedom, and our way of life. As Americans, we have to do the right thing even when it isn’t easy, even when there’s no reward because that’s truly what makes us Americans and if we forget that, we’ll truly be lost.

Respectfully,

Tucker Benedict.

[thinkyoureholy]

Soul Eater [Final Chapter]

[a/n: hhhhhh so this is the end of Soul Eater. I had such a fun time writing it and discussing it with all of you. I want to thank everyone that took the time to read it and leave a like or reblog or a comment in my ask box it really means a lot to me. And thank you so much for sticking with the story till the end!]

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Pairing : Jung Yunho / [fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Character Death, Demon! AU

Words : 3.7k

Previous Chapter.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

-Y/N’s P. O. V-

I shook my head as I sat back, cradling Yunho in my arms. I brought a trembling hand up to his face, gently brushing the hair out of his face. 

No, no please. Anything but this. I thought to myself, biting down on my lower lip to keep from crying but that just stopped the sobs from escaping but the tears flowed freely. 

“I’m sorry.” I whimpered as I cried, the pain in my chest only intensified when he gave me a small smile. 

He opened his mouth to speak but before he got anything out somebody else spoke over him, “Weak as always.”

My head snapped up to glare at Lucifer who stood a few feet away with a smug smile on his face. I’ve felt rage before and I am the literal definition of wrath but the fury I felt right now was stronger than anything else I’ve ever felt before. I could physically feel my eyes glow brightly, the red tinted aura surrounding me was heavier than ever. That alone was enough to have the smug looks fall from Lucifer’s face. I watched as he took a step back, baring my teeth at the sight. I could tell he wanted to run but before he could even think about going any further I thrust a fist into the ground. The ground shook and rumbled, cracks lining the cement before it opened up, Lucifer trying to get away from the crack but I just made more. Holes of all shapes and sizes surrounded the ground, Lucifer trapped and with a missing wing he wasn’t flying anytime soon.

“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?! I’ve never done anything wrong in my life! I was a good daughter, a good wife! I was a good person so why!? Why me!?” I cried out, holding onto Yunho tighter as I shouted at the one that caused all of this.

“Because you were destined for a life full of misfortune! It is how God commanded!” He shouted back, vexxed by my words.

I shook my head, clenching a hand into a fist, “No! He doesn’t intentionally make his children suffer! At least not without giving them a way out, one I never had! No, this was all your doing! This is all your fault!”

As I shouted the wall shook, cracks appearing along the walls to match the one on the ground. Lucifer said nothing, giving me a scornful look. And within the next second he gave a flap of his wing, blinding me momentarily with the strong winds he created. I knew he was going to use this opportunity to escape but I wasn’t going to let him. I sharpened the feathers of my wings like how I did when I killed Greed and thrust them in his direction. The second I felt the ends of my wings pierce through flesh the wind stopped, warm blood coating seeping onto my wings. I looked up to see one wing had gone through his throat and the other was jammed into his stomach. He raised a hand to probably try and get off an attack but I didn’t even allow him that as I tore him to shreds the same way I tore Greed apart. I glared at what was left of him, breathing heavily as I tried to fight against the need for more blood. Had Yunho not brought my attention back to him I would’ve given into my instincts and gone out looking for more demons to kill.

I gazed down at him to see that his breathing was more shallow than it had been just a few moments earlier. I knew what this meant but I refused to believe it, “No...no...I can’t lose you…”

He let out a breathy laugh, immediately regretting it was he winced in pain, “It’s fine, I’m okay.”

“No you’re not! You’re dying...” My voice broke at the word as I trailed off, the lump I felt in my throat stopping any other words from coming out for a second, “You’re dying and it's all my fault. If I had just released you from your contract earlier then-”

“Y/N... I know what you’re thinking and my answer is still no.” He said, his voice barely audible. He had lost way too much blood, it's a mystery how he managed to stay conscious for so long, “Don’t even think about it.”

I set my jaw at his stubbornness, angry that he was being like this all the way until the end, “I can still save your soul, Yunho.”

“And I’ve already told you I don’t give a damn about my soul!” He shouted, throwing himself into a coughing fit, blood trickling out of his mouth by the time he was done, “I want to be with you. I don’t care where, whether it be here in hell, on earth, or in heaven as long as I’m with you nothing else matters.”

I gave him a sad smile, swiping my thumb along his cheek ever so slightly, “I can’t let you spend a single second down here Yunho, especially not to be with someone like me. I don’t deserve you, I never have.”

“Y/N please...I love you. Don’t--Don’t force me to be without you…” He tearfully let out in a whisper, desperately clinging on to me but I had made up my mind.

I had tried to get him to end the contract with me on his own free will but even as he was dying he refused but I couldn’t let him turn into a demon. If he turned into a demon then I’d lose the Yunho I love so much. As much as he’s convinced he’ll stay the same I know that’s not the least bit true. Once a demon you’re filled with this overwhelming sense to wreak havoc, to kill, to have the blood of others run at your feet. No matter how good you were as a human it always happened. Even the purest of souls get swallowed up by the darkness and I couldn’t have him tainted, I refused to have him go through that.

“You’ll be forced to spend another thousand years down here!” He cried, hoping to convince me but I already made up my mind.

He’d die whether I did this or not but at least his soul would be where it belonged. I kept quiet as I brought a hand up to lay against his chest. His heartbeat had slowed, letting me know I didn’t have much time. I closed my eyes and concentrated, feeling the chains I had used to bind his soul when we first made the deal. But before I could break them the words he uttered had me stopping short. 

“Do you hate me that much?”

I looked at him with nothing but pure shock. Hate him? No, it was the opposite. I love him. I’ve never loved anyone like I love him. He meant the world to me and if I was blessed with some sort of power to heal him of his wounds then I would’ve done it in a heartbeat but I don’t. I would do anything to keep him here with me but I can’t, not if I want him to stay as he is.

“No…” I choked out, shaking my head as my tears fell onto his cheeks, “I love you...more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Yunho, in the short amount of time that I’ve known you you’ve become my world. You were the light that brought me out of the dark cave I had been hiding in. You showed me what it was like to love and be loved. Yunho, you are single handedly the best thing that has ever happened to me,” I paused to place a lingering kiss on his forehead, cupping his face in both my hands as I pulled away, “And because I love you so much I’m breaking our contract.”

He shook his head, about to protest but I stopped him from uttering a word by bringing my lips to his. I moved my lips slowly against his, pouring out all the love I held for him in that one kiss. I felt his lips tremble against mine but he kissed me back just as passionately. With my lips still glued to his I slowly brought a hand down to his chest, placing my palm over it. Like before I felt the chains holding his soul hostage and broke them with ease seconds later. The moment I did he groaned softly into my mouth, pulling away, the life finally leaving him. 

I choked on a sob as I stared into his lifeless eyes, my hand shaking violently as I placed it over his face and closed his eyes. My hand then hovered over his face, his shoulders, his chest, unsure of where to go as he lay dead in my hold. Finally after what felt like hours, but was truly only a second, I hugged his body to my chest. The last of my self restraint disappeared, the tears flowing freely as I sobbed loudly. My sobs got louder and louder until I couldn’t take it anymore and let out a scream full of pain and agony. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, holding onto him like my life depended on it and in a way it did. If I let go of him now then that’ll mean I’m accepting the fact that he’s gone for good and that I’ll never be able to see him again.

“Yun..?”

I snapped my head up at the sound of his voice. Mingi staggered forward a few steps only to fall to his knees at the sight he walked in on. He opened his mouth and closed it multiple times, the words refusing to come out. Through my tears I could see his own eyes glaze over before the first of many tears slid down his face.

“I...I had turned my back on him for just a second and the next thing I knew he was gone…” He muttered, his voice shaking as he spoke.

I furrowed my brows, confused, “You were with him?” I paused, my eyes searching his only for my face to twist in anger at the answer I found in his eyes, “Why did you let Lucifer take him!? If he was with you then you should’ve been protecting him! You had one job-”

“No, you had one job! I told you to make him happy! I told you to love him with reckless abandon and then let him go! Don’t put the blame on me when this is your fault!” He shouted, his voice heavy with emotion, “Yunho is dead because of you and you dare to blame me!? If he hadn’t met you he’d still be alive right now! I lost the only person I cared about and it’s all your fault! Don’t you dare try and put the blame on me!”

I was stunned into silence by his words, a sob crawling its way up my throat. He’s right, he’s absolutely right. This is nobody else’s fault but my own. I should’ve broken the damn contract a long time ago, no, I should’ve never made the deal with him in the first place. If I had known I would grow this attached to him, that I’d love him this much and that I’d be the reason he died then I would’ve refused to even make the deal. This is my fault and mine alone...and I had to live with that for the rest of my life.

-40xx, two thousand years later-

I sighed heavily as I walked through the park, lost in my thoughts. It had been a couple millennia since everything happened. With Lucifer gone and the other sins hiding from me I was left to take over Hell. I didn’t want to at first but then I realized that if they were left without someone to lead them and give them rules the demons would run rampant, chaos would ensue at every corner. So, begrudgingly, I took charge with Mingi as my advisor. It took a couple years for him to be able to be in the same room with me and about a century for him to finally forgive me. And when he finally agreed to help me run things we found out his time in Hell was about to run out. I was getting ready to say my goodbyes to him but he had found some documents Lucifer had hidden. In those documents I learned two things ; deadly sins were eternal beings so unless they were killed they never died and that there was another special power deadly sins had, something I’m sure the others weren’t even aware of. As deadly sins we were given the privilege of keeping familiars and those familiars were picked from the pools of the demons lower than us. Keeping them as familiars allowed those demons to extend their stay for however long the sin desired and gave them the ability to turn into their ‘master’s’ respective animal. I didn’t really want to keep Mingi for any longer than he needed to be in Hell but he was adamant in staying, saying if I was forced to stay here for all eternity he’ll stay too. He practically begged me to make him my familiar and so I did and he’s been by my side ever since, helping me run things down under.

The memory of him turning into a wolf for the first time brought a smile to my lips. He was freaking out so badly I had laughed hysterically for the whole thing. Thinking back it that was the first time I had smiled or even laughed since what happened. I didn’t even get angry anymore, it seemed like when Yunho left all my emotions went with him. I had been walking around as an empty shell, void of all emotions but after about a millennia I had finally started to heal. With Mingi’s help and that of a select few demons I had come to trust, I was slowly reverting back to my old self, though I always felt like I was missing something--something I was never going to get back. 

I stopped walking at that thought, clutching the fabric over my chest. I had been trying not to think of him too much because it was too painful. Every time I imagined his smile or his laugh I’d feel this sharp pain hit me. It felt like someone had placed a ten ton anvil on my heart. At times it felt like I couldn’t breathe, my lungs refused to take in the air that surrounded me. I closed my eyes and tried to recollect myself before I started crying in the middle of the park. It took a few minutes but I was finally able to get myself together. 

“And here I thought you were finally going to burst into tears.” A voice suddenly said from beside me. 

I jumped at the sound of his voice, startled out of my thoughts, “One of these days I’m going to cut you to pieces for scaring me.”

“But today is not that day is it?” He asked, a cheeky grin on his face. 

I rolled my eyes but was unable to hide the smile that tugged at the ends of my lips, “No, it’s not.”

A moment of silence passed between us before he spoke up again, “Your presence is needed for the meeting to start.”

“I know. I just needed to clear my head, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done.” I responded in a soft tone of voice, clamping my hands behind my back and looking towards the sky, the moon shining brightly to illuminate my path. 

I turned to Mingi once more only to see he had shifted to take on the form of my wolf. I showed him a tight lipped smile, reaching out to pat the top of his head gently, “Tell the others to busy themselves with something else until I get there.”

He leaned into my touch before giving a nod of his head and left me to myself once more. I continued to aimlessly walk through the park, lost in my thoughts. I heaved out a heavy sigh when I noticed the sun beginning the rise. I should get back before the others throw a fit for being gone this long. I took one last look around and turned to leave, bumping into someone as soon as I stepped onto the trail meant for runners. I cursed under my breath before I began to apologize, finally looking over to see who had run into me. The moment I laid eyes on him it was like time stood still. I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing, it can’t be what I thought... he looked exactly the same, his eyes the same shade of brown that I loved, his cheeks and lips the same shade of pink that I adored more than anything. When he caught me staring he gave me a soft smile, one I had missed dearly, one that brought tears to my eyes. 

“Ah, I’m sorry. I should’ve been paying more attention to my surroundings. Are you alright?” He asked, his voice as sweet as I remembered. 

My breath hitched when he reached out to wave a hand over my face, probably thinking that something was wrong with me for freezing up like this. I opened my mouth to call out his name but just as I was about to I shut my mouth, clenching my teeth. What good would it do if I called his name? He probably doesn’t remember me, I mean it’s been over two thousand years there’s no way he’d remember. If he’s here then that means he’s been reincarnated. I almost burst into tears when that thought came to mind. Finally, he can live a normal life and be happy and that’s all I ever cared about, even if it wasn’t with me if he was happy that’s all I cared about. 

I shook my head and rubbed my hands over my face to compose myself, “I’m okay, I’m just a little out of it. I’m sorry I interrupted your run.”

I gave him one last smile before turning around, biting down on my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out loud, the tears cascading down my face the moment I turned my back on him. I had only taken about two steps when I felt his hand wrap around my wrist. I froze the second his hand touched my skin, my shoulders tense but I refused to turn around. This simple action was giving me hope, false hope that he somehow remembers me. It’s making me want to believe that after all this time I can finally be with him but I didn’t dare hope for it. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it together...if this hope ends up leading to nothing. 

“It’s been years...don’t tell me you forgot about me already.” He spoke in a soft voice, squeezing my wrist gently in his hold. 

I inhaled shakily, not daring to turn around and face him, “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

“No I don’t. There’s no way I’d forget your face, Y/N…” He trailed off, walking around me to face me. 

And the moment I looked into his eyes I knew he remembered everything. My mouth moved before I could even try to stop it, saying the name I had avoided saying for years because it was just too painful, “Yunho…”

He chuckled softly at the name, his eyes brimming with tears as he grinned at me, “I go by Wooshik now but my God is it good to hear my name fall from your lips again.”

I stared at him, stunned by everything that was happening. I reached out and placed my hands on his forearms, gingerly touching his skin to make sure he was real, “Are you really here? I’m—I’m not hallucinating am I? Because I’ve done it before! But this—you feel so real…”

“I’m real. I’m back, Y/N.” He said through the tears that had managed to escape.

The second he said that I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, bringing him into my embrace. I felt his arms wrap around my waist, squeezing me tightly in his hold as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. I still couldn’t believe it but having him here in my arms I knew that this wasn’t just another hallucination. He was really here, I had him back...the only man I loved was back in my arms. That thought had a sob crawl its way up my throat before it escaped, muffled by his shoulder. I clung onto him like my life depended on it because in a way, it did. I’ve been so empty without him, just aimlessly wandering through life with no purpose. But now that he was back I could start living again, I could start to feel again. I pulled away from the hug to cup his face in my hands, staring into his eyes for a moment before leaning forward and kissing him with everything I had. I don’t know how long this was going to last but unlike last time I won’t try to distance myself from him, I won’t try and build a wall between us. I won’t try to keep him away from me for his own safety, no, I’ll protect him with my life. I’ll keep him safe. I’ll do everything I didn’t do, everything I regretted not doing. I'll do it now...and for however long he’ll have me. I promise I’ll love him fiercely, recklessly, and wholeheartedly. I swear it, I swear on my name, on my title as Wrath and may God punish me severely if I ever break my promise.

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Tags : @chanyeolol​ @j-oneracha​ @choisofty​ @boredmay21​ @elenaramos1​

[linkspooky]

Oh! Top 5 Kimetsu no Yaiba characters?

I only have four characters I’d truly call faves from Kimetsu no Yaiba, but let’s go!

1. Doma - “Human emotions are nothing to me, like mere dreams…” 

Every time someone claims that Doma is the only demon without a tragic backstory I want to fight them. Apparently most people think that children who grow up in cults aren’t traumatized at all and grow into rational and well-adjusted adults. 

Doma is a character who shows no signs of empathy. However, he was a character who was never taught or shown any signs of empathy before. By the time he was an indpendenent adult he gave up on understanding it. Doma despises the cult, but it’s telling that he always stays there because it’s truly all he knows. He laughs at the people who come to the cult to distract themselves from the misfortunes of their life, but Doma too stays with the cult as a distraction for how empty and small his own life is. 

Doma really was too mature for a child, but also too immature as well. He was forced to grow up too fast because neither of his parents actively wanted to parent him. People act like he’s a born sociopath for being observant enough as a kid to notice that the all the adults who entered into his life were only there to use him. Kids are sharper than you expect, but also duller as well. Doma never realized that life was any different outside of his environment. He stayed in that childish mindset forever, and egocentric little kid who only saw himself first and foremost. That’s not the thinking of a sociopath, it’s the thinking of a child, children can’t imagine viewpoints other than their own because they haven’t developed empathy yet. 

There’s this assumption that people are either born good empathic people, or they’re not, but empathy is a quality that’s developed and learned. It was almost natural Doma became a demon by the end because not a single person in his life treated him as a human. Yet, despite reveling in being a monster Doma is still desperately searching for some meaning in his life too. He wants to have friends. He wants to feel the same way that other people. Even if it’s just a hollow imitation on his part, that was something in his lifetime but never got even up until the end. Doma’s this tragedy of empathy, because all he ever wanted was to feel the same way that everyone else did, to have the same connections they did, but because he was so isolated he only destroyed every small chance he did have at learning to empathize with another person. 

2. Shinobu -“Yes I’m angry, Tanjiro. I’ve always been angry.” 

I think Shinobu is interesting because she’s a bad person. I wish people would stop trying to paint her as a wholly good person who was loved by everyone around her. Shinobu’s character introduction is going out of her way to unnecessarily torture a demon for fun, and her attitude implies she has done this before. Torture is a universally bad thing, even if you’re doing it to a bad person. 

I’m not trying to moralize Shinobu. I think she’s much more interesting this way, as a fundamentally flawed person. A cracked vase that can never truly be full. Yes, Shinobu is loved by a lot of people, but she’s also fundamentally unable to receive that love. She’s stopped living a long time ago, part of her stopped when her aprents died, and she gave up when her sister died. If Kimetsu no Yaiba were a more morally complicated story, Shinobu existing for the sole purpose of revenge would not be treated as a good thing. It’s an empty way of living, and the only thing Shinobu can do to keep living is to cling to all of the ugly and negative emotions inside of her. 

The most interesting version of Shinobu is just rotten at her core, because she’s let the rot sink in and fester, because she doesn’t want to let go of her anger towards demons. It’s rare female characters are allowed to be filled with such ugly emotions, or allowed to express them in terrible ways. Shinobu plays games at being a healer, at being a person capable of nurturing like her older sister, but it’s just an empty imitation that falls flat. Shinobu at least in regards to herself doesn’t want to heal, she doesn’t want to get better, she wants to stay wounded forever so she can keep taking out her pain on the demons around her. 

I like to think that when she summoned up a hallucination of her sister in her final moments to encourage herself, that was entirely a fabrication on her part. Shinobu wanted to imagine her sister who once told her to just quit the Demon Corps and find a way to live and be happy was just as angry as she was. Shinobu’s delusion of Kanae is a sister that validates her and tells her that she has to be angry, that she has to stand up and fight again, that there’s strength in this. And that’s exactly it, Shinobu at her very core wants to be strong. She hates being powerless and weak. I think Shinobu is at her best when her anger isn’t righteous. She doesn’t want to protect others - she wants to feel strong. 

3. Iguro Obanai - “I want to defeat Muzan and die. I hope that will cleanse my corrupted blood. If we reincarnate as humans in a world without demons I will definitely tell you that I love you.” 

I like how Iguro is nasty, and unpleasant, and also mean to the main character for really petty reasons. Shinobu’s trauma is easier for a lot of people to swallow because she doesn’t show it, she just puts on a mask of being nice and people buy into that mask. Iguro even though he wears a physical mask over his mouth is less good at hiding his disfigurement. 

Iguro’s very traumatized and he acts that way. He’s anti-social. He’s withdrawn. He doesn’t get along well with others. He’s prone to violent outbursts. The scars left with Iguro are so deep they’re permanent. And I believe it’s because down to his core, Iguro believes himself to be a bad and selfish person for surviving while half of his family died, and thinking only of himself with his escape. 

It’s not really his cursed blood that Iguro wants to escape from, but rather his trauma. He can’t find a way to live with his truama or accept himself so he seeks some escape with it by suicidally charging into battle. And that’s another thing that speaks to the permanency of his scars. Iguro is deeply in love with one person, but he can’t admit, or accept that love because he views the current iteration of himself as so unlovable. 

He can neither give or receive love, and yet there’s some small part of Iguro that wants to heal. He wants to feel okay again. I think there is a part of Iguro that is very selfish. The way he acts towards Mitsuri isn’t really romantic, his protectiveness and jealousy are signs of entitlement. However, the thing is traumatized people do end up feeling entitled to happiness. Iguro’s so terrified of losing Mitsuri because she’s the one good thing in his life, and because of that he’s unable to love her in a healthy way. 

Even if Iguro’s given up on himself and decided that he’s poison, unlike Shinobu I see that there’s some part of Iguro that genuinely wants to heal. He wants to feel like a good person, he wants to find someway to continue living, its just he thinks it’s impossible for him to. Iguro’s desire to die and be reborn is so compelling that I actually want to see him live and be forced to deal with the prospect of his slow healing rather than getting his wish to be redeemed by death. 

4. Sanemi Shinazugawa - “My Nemi is the kindest…” 

Tanjiro as a character is kind in a way that’s easy to digest. When he’s angry it’s always righteous anger. His kindness never becomes a difficult. Tanjiro never does anything that’s difficult to swallow. That’s okay, but it’s also not that deep. 

Sanemi’s kindness and his anger are both a part of him. His cruelty does not detract from how kind he is, his kindness doesn’t excuse his cruelty. Sanemi is driven to act cruel, to be merciless, to be vicious not because he doesn’t care about people but he cares too much and the loss of almost everyone he’s loved in his life disfigures him permanently. 

Sanemi is a little kid who hunted demons all on his own for years by letting them fight him until he bled. He always fights by intentionally harming himself, hence why he shows his scars at all time and makes no attempt to hide them. Sanemi as a person is damaged to his core, but he still retains that kindness because it’s a part of who he is. 

Sanemi is angry because he’s kind. He’s violent because he’s kind. He’s so afraid of losing others again, the only way he knows how to be with them is to protect others from afar. Sanemi thinks he can abuse his brother, but as long as he protects him from demons from a distance it will all be okay in the end. 

What I like about Sanemi’s narrative is that it wasn’t. His actions ended up hurting his brother far more than helping him, the more distance he put between them, the more Genya threw himself into harm to get his brother to acknowledge him. At the end everything Sanemi did to protect him amounted to nothing, and Sanemi is the one protected and comforted by his brother when he should have been the one taking care of him. I think the author rushed to the tragic ending rather than letting the characters developed to get there, but still there’s an interesting choice that Sanemi is the one to survive and not Genya. Sanemi who has always wanted to just go off and die somewhere eaten by a demon while his brother gets to live happily. Now Sanemi’s never going to fix things with that brother, and nothing he can do will make up for what he did to Genya. However, he still has to find a way to keep living for himself. Watching broken people trying to find a way to keep on living is the primary reason why I read fiction in the first place. 

[qobiin]

when i fill them, they’ll shine forever | ch 6

pairing: todobakudeku (bakugou x midoriya x todoroki) 

genre: fluff, angst | abo au, canon-compliant 

warnings: swearing, trans male character, mild canon-typical violence, mentioned child abuse, implied non-con, misgendering, endeavor 

word count: 4118

summary: Katsuki being an omega from birth changes a few things. 

chapter six of when i fill them, they’ll shine forever 

"If you're here to give me some sympathetic speech or some shit, I will kill you, Pinkie," Katsuki spits over his shoulder.

"Eh?" Pinkie startles, scrambling to compose herself as Katsuki turns to look at her. "I have no idea what you mean."

Katsuki narrows his eyes at the way she nervously scratches the back of her head, her smile much too wide to be genuine. Pinkie scuffs the toe of her shoe against the floor, her arms dropping to her sides so she can play with the ends of her school jacket. Her scent is as sweet as any other omega’s but there is a sour aftertaste to it that makes Katsuki wrinkle his nose in distaste.

"What the fuck do you want? I have places to be," Katsuki says as he crosses his arms over his chest.

He doesn’t know anything past a few of his classmates’ quirks, much too busy with bettering himself and challenging his mates to give a shit about anyone else. Shitty Hair and Pikachu are showing some potential since they have enough of a backbone to socialize normally with him instead of fearfully or putting him on a pedestal. Most of the others will be unimportant to his story in the long run and Katsuki isn’t usually the type to write people off so soon, but Pinkie herself hasn’t impressed him in the least. 

“I just um-” Pinkie flushes, fingers twining together nervously. “All the girls wanted to thank you.”

Katsuki frowns, suddenly confused. As far as he knows, none of the girls want to be within two feet of him. He has no idea why they would want to thank him for something.

The only thing he can think of that would be spoken about is the Perverted Grape incident that happened earlier that day. Katsuki is waiting for Deku to finish talking to Glasses, Todoroki already having left a few minutes before. He wants to go to Deku’s and gorge himself on Auntie Inko’s cooking while he avoids going home where his mom will scream for blood and his dad will flutter nervously around him for the rest of the weekend. He already had Glasses, Hundred Arms, and Shitty Hair try to comfort him in their own shitty ways about Perverted Grape, he doesn’t need any more of this crap today.

“What the fuck is this about?” Katsuki asks, glaring down at Pinkie. “You have five seconds to speak or I’m walking away. One.”

“Thankyouforgettingridofmineta!” Pinkie shouts, bowing at the waist once before she runs away.

Katsuki scoffs as he watches her leave. “As if I did it for any of you.”

“Did what, Kacchan?” Deku’s voice pipes up behind him.

“Nothing, you shit nerd. Let’s go already,” Katsuki grumbles, barely even reacting to Deku’s sudden appearance.

His alpha’s scent is more familiar to him than his own so if Deku really wants to startle him, he is going to have to work harder than that.

Katsuki takes Deku’s hand and leads the way towards the train station, already imagining all the dishes his Auntie Inko will prepare. Deku follows behind him quietly, not having to say a word for Katsuki to understand his alpha will always support him.

The sports festival is turning out to be fucking boring.

Katsuki delivered his "speech" before the first challenge began, which was really just him pointing out a fact by stating that he and his mates were going to mop the floor with all of them. No need for everyone to get their fucking panties in a twist at the truth.

They had taken one look at the mouth of the tunnel before both his mates grabbed hold of Katsuki’s arms and held on tight as he shot them over the other students piling up beneath them. Many yells and shouts had followed them but Deku only whooped as they came out of the other side and got their first glimpse of the obstacle course prepared for them. 

The zero pointers from the entrance exam rose up to greet them but Todoroki froze one and Katsuki blew up the one beside it at Deku’s request. Deku had grabbed a stray piece of the now broken robot as they flew over it while Todoroki directed ice back at the other students to cut their competition in half. At the pit, Todoroki made more ice to make them a path straight across and Katsuki used more of his blasts to ski them over the pit in no time at all. 

By that point Katsuki and Todoroki had practically ruined the obstacle course as they held Deku between them, all three of them keeping first place easily. Then Deku had pulled himself away from them at the third obstacle, dropping onto his knees to dig at the edges of the landmine before Katsuki got the memo. Together, they dug up the explosives and put them in a pile together.

Todoroki had just enough time to grab Deku's shirt and Katsuki climbed onto his alpha's back as Deku held up the piece of the robot that he had nabbed earlier. His alpha then slammed it into the explosives and all three of them were thrown into the air, sliding past the finish line easily and more importantly, together.

The second challenge hasn't been that big of a challenge either actually. Katsuki grudgingly allows Round Face to join their team after Deku brings up his plan and when the countdown begins, Todoroki makes ice appear in a circle around them while Round Face slaps her hands on the backs of Katsuki’s mates before pressing her fingertips together with a determined look in her eyes. Katsuki settles Deku on his shoulders and waits until Todoroki and Uraraka have grabbed hold of his alpha’s arms to shoot them up in the sky. More yells and shouting follows them but Katsuki ignores it. He knows they are not breaking the rules through anything but a technicality and while last year, he would be enraged about using such a cheap tactic to win, now he only cares to shield his mates from any harm that may befall them. 

Despite the lack of a real fight, their team is doing exceptionally well by staying out of other students’ grasps. The only time anyone gets near enough to almost ripping the headband worth a million points off Deku's head, Todoroki's left side erupts with the barest lick of flames before his ice overcomes some random girl’s vines. Katsuki felt the almost unbearable heat of Todoroki’s fire tease the back of his hand as he prepared himself to power off an explosion and can't help the sharp intake of breath that he takes through his teeth at that moment.

Which is why he is only slightly surprised when Todoroki asks him and Deku for a word in private during the lunch break. Once the break is over, all the stupid extras will then ready themselves for the games UA's staff has prepared for the losers who didn't make it to the final round so technically, they have a longer break than most. Katsuki exchanges a not-so-subtle glance with his alpha before he nods and allows Todoroki to lead the way.

As soon as they are alone, Todoroki tells them his life story. 

All of it. 

The quirk marriage. The forced mate bond. The breeding. The training he began at age four. His mother losing her grip on sanity. The isolation from his siblings and peers alike. The abuse he has withstood ever since then. The resentment and anger Todoroki has carried for countless years. The determination to never use the quirk he inherited from his father.

Every single, excruciating detail has Katsuki's blood boiling and his hackles rising. His body calls for blood, the need to defend and fight and tear limbs apart almost overcomes him.

He doesn’t understand how a parent can look at the life they helped bring into this world and not want to protect them with all their power. Deku has an idea if his claim of not being All Might’s secret love child can be believed, but Katsuki has never faced that misfortune. Not even his coming out impacted the relationship he had with his parents much - not in the way that most would expect anyway. Katsuki does not understand and he never will but he does understand that what both his mates’ fathers have done and are doing now is wrong.

Wrong and awful and horrible. Downright evil in Todoroki’s case. That is more than enough to warrant Katsuki’s bloodlust. He’s sure his parents would understand why he murdered the Number Two Hero anyway. Auntie Inko most definitely would. Hell, probably Yagi-san too, especially considering the way he dotes on Deku. 

Regardless, Katsuki has already made up his mind.

"I am going to fucking kill him," Katsuki spits out between clenched teeth, his hands smoking and curled into tight fists at his sides. "No, no. I am going to destroy him! I'm gonna rip off his balls and feed them to him! I'm gonna hold my hands over his skin and see how well he likes getting burned!"

Katsuki continues, his methods of torture growing more grotesque and painful as he does, all while ignoring the surprised and somewhat wary look on Todoroki's face. Deku is silent beside him, but his scent tells Katsuki enough.

Their alpha is angry. 

Deku is trembling, his eyes flashing gold and hands curled into fists as well. The air around them reeks of ozone and Katsuki feels the ridiculous urge to sneeze. Todoroki’s gaze keeps flickering between the two of them, unsure of who needs his attention more: his alpha who is rapidly losing his grip on his control or his omega who is ranting about every which way he will harm his father.

"Aren't you going to tell me that killing is bad and I don't know what other fucking nonsense you preach and shit?" Katsuki asks when Deku's scent sours enough to bother him. "I'm gonna murder the Number Two Hero, you fucking nerd. Shouldn't you stop me?"

Say something, Katsuki doesn’t plead aloud. Say you agree. Say you’re with us, no matter what.

Deku tenses all at once then sighs, his body going lax as he closes his eyes and leans his head back on the wall behind him. "If it was anybody else, literally anybody else, I would say yes."

Katsuki smirks, the edges of it sharp enough to cut. "But?"

"Not in this case," Deku finally says, his scent still angry and now frustrated.

"I am fully capable of killing that bastard, you know," Katsuki continues, eyes flickering between both of his mates. "I could go and murder him right now and I would be glad to be thrown into jail for it. My parents would probably throw a fucking party."

Todoroki looks at him like he's insane, but Katsuki ignores him. He focuses on Deku instead, watching the corners of his mouth twitch with a smile, the sour anger in his scent slowly starting to bleed away.

"I know, Kacchan," Deku agrees, opening his eyes which have now returned to their normal color and leaving Katsuki horrified as they start to water.

Katsuki bites his lip, looking back at Todoroki again who is staring open-mouthed at Deku in shock. "Do you want me to?"

He means it as a question for them both but it is Deku who answers. "Yes, but you shouldn't. People would paint you as a villain and that's not who you are, Kacchan.”

“Shut the fuck up, Deku,” Katsuki bites back but there is a smile on his face and no heat in his words.

“Okay,” Deku replies with a tired smile.

Katsuki pivots to stare at Todoroki, pinning his beta with his gaze alone. “And you, you bastard, come here!”

“Are you going to kill me?” Todoroki asks as he stands up straight, his spine probably in pain due to how quickly he came to attention.

Katsuki's grin turns sharp once more. “If you Order me again, then yes, but just get your ass over here already! ”

“Wait, you Ordered Kacchan?” Deku asks, head swiveling between them both in confusion.

"Twice, the fucking shithead!” Katsuki admits.

Deku's eyes turn flinty before they soften once more. "You must have a death wish, Todoroki-kun. Please, don't ever do that again."

Katsuki huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at his alpha. "I don't need you to defend me, fucking Deku!"

"I know," Deku murmurs, "but sometimes, you want me to and I don't really appreciate the fact that someone would Order you, even if he's our mate, Kacchan. Todoroki-kun, seriously, don't do that again."

"Shut up, Deku," Katsuki spits out at the same time that Todoroki says, "I won't Order you again, Bakugou-kun."

"Good," Deku huffs as Katsuki moves closer until he can sling an arm over his alpha and tuck him into his side. "Now get over here. We're going to scent you so your father knows he'll have plenty of things to explain the next time I smell him on you."

Katsuki nods sagely. "Deku will destroy him."

"Why would he do that?" Todoroki looks at Deku like he can't imagine the alpha going toe-to-toe with his dipshit of a dad, but Katsuki knows better. And Todoroki should know better too after what happened the week before in the locker room's bathroom.

"Because you're our mate, you fucking bastard," Katsuki growls, reaching out and grabbing hold of Todoroki's arm before he drags him closer. "We'll end anyone who fucking hurts you. You're mine now and I don't like it when people touch my things. I beat the shit out of anybody who dared to lay a hand on my alpha and I'll beat the shit out of anyone who hurts my beta too."

Deku smiles at Todoroki from underneath his arm, his scent calmer and steady like before. "Don't worry about it, Todoroki-kun. Kacchan is just really overprotective. You'll grow used to it."

Todoroki is stiff underneath Katsuki's hand, but, slowly, he starts to relax as well. He leans into Katsuki's side and lays his two-toned head against Katsuki's shoulder. On his other side, Deku does the same, mirroring their mate. They stand there for a moment, huddled up in each other's warmth as they allow their scents to slide across one another, mingling and intermixing. Katsuki is certain that no one is going to speak for some time yet, so he's slightly surprised when Deku does.

“Your quirk is your own, Todoroki-kun.”

“Hm?” Todoroki hums in response, his head shifting against Katsuki’s shoulder.

Deku leans forward until even Katsuki is having difficulties keeping his eyes on them. “Your fire is your own. Everyone else here is using a hundred percent of what they’ve got to make it. It would be wrong of you to do this with only half.”

Todoroki stills in Katsuki’s embrace, expression shifting until his face is blank once more. Katsuki can physically see all the walls Todoroki is putting up again and he cannot have that.

“We can talk about that later, you little shits,” Katsuki cuts in. “Deku, seriously not the fucking time.”

His beta’s scent pulses for one short breath before it calms, Deku oblivious to it all as he starts to say, “Todoroki-kun should work with a hundred percent of what he has too, Kacchan! Otherwise-”

"Shouto."

"Huh?" Deku asks, like a fucking idiot as if Todoroki's intentions aren't clear enough.

Todoroki only blinks at him though, his scent still remaining calm and focused. "You can both call me Shouto."

Deku brightens considerably, his smile like the sun breaking through a heavy layer of overcast while he pushes the quirk issue off to the side for now. "Ah, well you can call me Izuku and Kacchan Katsuki!"

"No, he can't," Katsuki scowls.

"Yes, he can," Deku replies instantly, his smile never faltering. "Go sulk another time, this is loving and supporting our mate hours right now!"

Katsuki can't help the startled laughter that escapes him, but he lets it run its course when Deku only brightens even further at the sound and Todoroki relaxes against him again. "Shut the fuck up, Deku. That meme is as old as balls."

Deku's grin only grows bigger, the edges curving dangerously but he says nothing and wraps his arms around Katsuki's waist. Todoroki too settles further into their warmth, his scent now laced with a dash of content.

From the corner of his eye, Katsuki can see the hint of a smile on his beta's face. The sight alone does weird things to his heart that he promptly ignores in favor of enjoying the company of his mates.

Deku and he run into Endeavor before starting their second fight in the third challenge and Katsuki wonders how the Flaming Piece of Shit got out of there alive.

Considering that All Might was also present, Katsuki is doubly confused about how Endeavor is still breathing.

“Come on,” Katsuki spits as he drags Deku out the door. “Fuck everything else and focus on this stupid match. If you let your quirk break you again, dipshit, I’m taking our beta in the divorce.”

Katsuki isn’t happy at all about the team matches but considering that there are many mated students in the sixteen contestants left for the third challenge, he supposed that it made some lick of sense. Not that he’s going to admit that out loud anyway.

Deku laughs, following behind Katsuki willingly, but his smile dies as they round the corner and run into the last person either of them wanted to see.

They have seen the Number Two Hero plenty of times on television and social media. Katsuki thought he was pretty average looking when he was younger but at that moment he is ugly beyond belief. His facial hair is made up completely of fire and spare bits of it run through his hair. He is tall and in his hero suit but there is nothing about him that shows he is a hero in Katsuki’s eyes.

Instead of the mild admiration Katsuki used to feel for this man, all he can focus on is the hate and rage that’s building up quickly within him.

“So you’re the alpha who’s staked a claim on my son,” Endeavor says like he never expected anybody to try and interfere with the plans he had forced upon his child’s shoulders.

Katsuki bares his teeth at him, forcing himself to stay silent. Endeavor’s eyes linger on Deku’s arm where he is grabbing hold of his alpha. His gaze flickers to Katsuki briefly, looking him up and down as if he is a piece of meat being put on display at the market before he focuses back on Deku. Katsuki can’t help the cold disgust that rolls down his spine when the Flaming Piece of Shit’s eyes are no longer on him. Deku shifts beside him in response, subtly putting himself in front of Katsuki to shield him from view.

“And you’re Shouto’s father,” Deku points out, the anger in his voice plain for anyone to hear.

Endeavor’s brows raise up for a moment before his face settles back into its usual scowl. “Your omega. She’ll do fine but if you don’t prove you are the best alpha around, neither of you get to have him.”

Deku growls and the overbearing scent of ozone fills up the hallway. Katsuki holds onto his alpha tighter while allowing his lips to curl back and make his snarl look more aggressive.

“You don’t decide that for him,” Deku snaps. “And don’t refer to Kacchan as a girl. He will rip out your tongue for such disrespect.”

Endeavor’s gaze flicks back towards Katsuki at this and Katsuki snaps his teeth at him, wanting nothing more than to do just that.

Shouto had told them about all the awful crap his father had done but this - what he just said - takes the fucking cake. Katsuki wants to let go of his alpha and watch him tear into this arrogant beta until there is nothing recognizable left. He doesn’t though because he isn’t stupid and the only person allowed to go to jail is him, but the idea itself is still very tempting.

Fortunately, Yagi-san’s smell rises up behind them announcing his presence. Katsuki doesn’t look back to see his arrival, not trusting Endeavor enough to take his eyes off him but he does smell it when Yagi-san realizes what is going on. It would have been difficult not to, considering Deku is sending out angry and agitated alpha pheromones for everyone in the entire building to smell. Even the lowliest beta with the worst sense of smell would be able to tell that Katsuki’s alpha is in distress.

Within two seconds, Katsuki is facing the broad back of the Number One Hero. All Might is in the shifted form he uses for public appearances and has his arms extended by his sides in a way that appears natural but effectively blocks them both. The fact he did this in a way that did not draw any attention to them at all is only another reason why Katsuki immediately begins to calm down when All Might appeared.

“Endeavor, what are you doing to my students?” All Might rumbles, acting as if he had not stumbled over the end of his question.

Katsuki can no longer see the expression on Endeavor’s face but he can hazard a guess about it well enough. “Wishing them luck.”

All Might’s stance doesn’t relax in the least. “Then you may go now. These two are due for their match soon.”

Endeavor merely huffs and walks away then. All Might doesn’t move from his stance until the other man is no longer nearby. He turns and smiles at them, dropping a hand on both their shoulders when the coast is clear. Katsuki allows it, his anger still pulsing dangerously within him even if he knew they are safe with All Might now present but it is dying down nevertheless.

“What happened?” All Might asks, his blue eyes glinting dangerously under the hallway halogens.

Katsuki tells him. He keeps quiet about what their mate had told them earlier that day because it isn’t any of his business to share until his beta is ready to get help, but he holds nothing back about the conversation they just had with the Flaming Piece of Shit. All Might’s eyes turn almost black with the force of his anger, more ozone joining the air around them.

(And Deku had seriously thought Katsuki wasn’t going to assume that Yagi-san was his dad?)

“He won’t bother you again. You have my word,” All Might vows. “Now run along. Your match is starting within the next three minutes.”

They both nod and are rewarded with pats to their heads. Yagi-san then steps to the side so he is no longer blocking the path and Katsuki drags his alpha away before Deku can add more fire to the fuel.

Katsuki and Shouto share first place, Deku taking second and Emo Birdbrain taking third.

He would consider it a loss any other time, but considering all the crap Shouto has been put through and shared with them today, Katsuki just rolls with it.

(And no, he does not miss the fact that All Might hugs his alpha just a little too long to be normal after he drapes their medals over their heads during the awards ceremony. Going by Shouto’s thoughtful hum beside him, their beta doesn’t miss it either. That conversation should be fun.)

Later, he still takes pleasure in burning and blowing up all of his and Deku's Endeavor merchandise.

He takes greater pleasure in watching Shouto try and keep a straight face as Katsuki blatantly flirts with him when they get ice cream the next day. Deku's flirting is a lot more subtle but they both relish at the sight of Shouto's flushing, blank face over a banana split.

Of course, not all good things last. Katsuki had learned this fact early on in life.

He knows it isn't true when people say that the only way is up. Life isn't that easy and it has never been especially kind to Katsuki of all people. He doesn't mind that fact. He understands that is just how things work and that it is the way of life no matter how much he may wish it not to be. It's just how things are and he gets that.

He just didn't expect the rug to be pulled out from under his feet so soon is all.

a/n: sorry for the wait! i hope that you all liked this though (: thanks for reading!

[theatresweetheart]

Thorns and Arrows

Fandom(s): Sanders Sides, G/t

Prompt: “I’ll take real good care of you, I promise.” With prinxiety? Maybe with big Roman and tiny Virgil? — Asked by @arc852

Summary: Virgil, after narrowly escaping capture by humans who believe his witchcraft is demonic, ends up getting caught by Roman instead.

Warnings: Brief mention of Remus, brief mention of Deceit (Darien), multiple descriptions of blood, disturbing use of language, talk of death, character being treated inhumanely, fear, fainting, crying, swearing, fire. (I think that’s it, but please let me know if I missed anything!)

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Logince

Word Count: 4140 words.

A/n: So, I actually had a lot of fun writing this and getting to play around with different perspectives and such. Also, a huge thank you to the ever lovely @hiddendreamer67 for being a fantastic beta and helping me edit! 

(Also, as a side note, I decided not to add this into the ask with the prompt, only because it had gotten so long. Adding “Read More” into my asks has been problematic for now, so I might do every long story like this and the shorter ones answered in asks. That is still to be decided.)

Anyhow, enjoy! 

Taglist: @isle-of-gold  (Feel free to let me know if you ever want to be tagged in future works!) 

                                      +~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

Life is a cruel mistress, some would say.

She taunts and giggles and gifts more misfortune to the already unfortunate.

To those that had been born into a life with little to no chance of success or survival, she can be loving and kind and extend assistance and a caring hand. Or, she would sit by, watch and grin at the suffering she caused.

Virgil didn’t want to be ungrateful, but as he stumbled through the overgrown underbrush of the forest in a panicked escape from the king’s knights close behind him—with swords and shields and bows and arrows ready—he felt as though he had every right to be sour about his life.

“Halt in the name of the King, witch!”‌ One knight shouted, causing the witch himself to reel and press on forward faster. “You will cease your useless attempt and repent in the Halls of the King before the Royal Court!”

If he had wanted to repent and be dragged back to the court to either be hung or drowned, he would have already turned himself in.

The sounds of his own breathing got loud enough that it was the only thing he could focus on. The blood rushing in his ears, the adrenaline pounding through his veins.

His coven had already been ravaged by fire and death and destruction, his familiar was nowhere to be seen—which worried him greatly—and now he was running blindly through a forest he didn’t know his way out of.

He was in an area of the forest that he had never had the chance to see. A place he had never been taken to, or shown around. He was completely on his own when it came to navigating his way out.

To put it lightly, Virgil was terrified.

The sound of an arrow whizzing by his head, nearly nicking his cheek, made him recoil and duck to the other side, catapulting himself over a fallen log and continuing his sprint.

There was just so much that had gone wrong in such little time. This morning had been like any other morning, quiet, relatively peaceful. He was going to try and spend most of his day perfecting his potions, only for that to have changed within the hour.

How had the knights figured out his coven existed?‌ A false accusation by one of the paranoid townspeople, claiming they had seen another of Virgil’s coven commit a heinous act of witchcraft.

It hadn’t been hard to figure out that the townsfolk were bluffing. It also wasn’t hard to understand that the townspeople didn’t like him or his coven in the first place. They were isolated and kept to themselves a lot, only entering the town square when absolutely necessary. To an outsider, they almost did look a tad too much like witches, but they had never been accused of it before.

There had been rumors, Virgil remembered, when he was little. He remembered staying close to Darien, a hand latched onto the older witch’s jacket as they navigated the town. People would whisper to each other, point and stare, but nothing had ever come of it. It remained only as if it were a whisper on the wind.

There had always been paranoia within the town about the forest and what lurked inside of it, which was understandable.

There were terrible creatures that lurked in the night, searching and stalking for an easy meal. If you didn’t know how to fight back, it would be far too easy to lose. Sometimes, even if you did know how to defend yourself, you just weren’t strong enough.

Some of the animals that did haunt the night were wolves and bats and coyotes and such, but then there were mystical creatures as well; the fae, werewolves, and vampires, which were rare, but there. They mostly lived among the people and not so much in the heart of the woods. It was easier to feed that way.

There were even creatures that were so big they’d be able to swallow a human whole if they so desired.

Now those were the encounters that would strike fear into anyone’s being. Anyone that had a rational head on their shoulders would avoid a giant at all costs.

Then there were the so called “giant hunters”‌ who decided it would be a good idea to go after these massive beings and try to claim fame and fortune.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t likely anyone would return from such a quest.

Not that Virgil felt a shred of pity for them. They had made their choice—no matter how stupid—and it had cost them their lives. So, the only way to go about that was to learn from their mistakes and never make the same choice himself.

The twang of another arrow being loosed caught his attention, but the searing hot agonizing pain that rose from his left shoulder was the thing that shattered every coherent thought in his head. The yelp of pain that came sharply from his mouth made the knights behind him cheer in glee; they had hit their mark!‌ It was only a matter of time now before the witch stumbled and dropped.

While his vision was hazy, Virgil wasn’t letting the arrow get the better of him. He needed to get out of here. He needed to find– to find… find what exactly? What was left for him? His coven was nothing but ashes, his familiar was possibly dead and he was being hunted. It really was only a matter of time before he stumbled to his knees and let the knights have their way with him.

But there was also the sharp resilience that said this isn’t what his family would want for him. The fact that giving up meant losing immediately. The moment one gave up was the moment one lost.

Chancing a glance down at the wound, Virgil saw a steady stream of crimson blood oozing down his left arm, dripping off of his fingertips before it had the chance to dry. He needed to dislodge the arrow, find some way to heal the wound before he bled out…but without a safe place to stop and rest, it was pointless.

Without his eyes on the escape route, he had failed to notice the steep drop down the bank in front of him. Just as his foot caught on a stray root, a sharp cry was ripped from his throat and he stumbled and slid to his knees. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he collapsed to the ground and rolled onto his uninjured side just enough to see the knights approaching him quickly.

The sounds of the armour and weapons clattering got closer and closer, until Virgil could see the three knights standing over him. Looking red in the face and furious, but almost mixed with a horrible look of glee. They got to take what they wanted of him. Torture him, kill him.‌ Anything they so desired.

His chest rose in panting breaths, unsteady but in an almost recognizable pattern. Hazily, his eyes slid over each and every knight, taking in what they looked like. Burning their images into his brain as the last thing he would probably see before they ran him through. He memorized every little detail, including their unbearable grins, sneers and sharp looks that said so much more than words could.

“Absolutely pitiful,”‌ the one to his right said, voice dangerously low. He crouched down, prodding Virgil roughly in the injured shoulder and grinning as the witch hissed at the unwanted and painful touch. “A single arrow takes down the last witch of that disgusting coven. You’d think it’d have more fight. At least a will to live.”

Of course Virgil had a will to live, but surrounded like this, too weak to even try and utter a simple spell?‌ His odds weren’t looking great. But that knight could go and take what little knowledge his fat head carried and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

“I almost feel bad,”‌ a second voice piped up, cruel and unrelenting. “Get it up boys. Bring it back to the King.”

The first knight got down lower, so low that Virgil could feel his breath against his neck. It was a vulnerable section of skin for someone’s mouth to be hovering over and he was half afraid that the knight would take the advantage to sink his teeth into his jugular. Of course it wasn’t a human move, but it didn’t stop Virgil from worrying about it. He even tried to writhe away to the best of his ability but was stuck in place by the third’s heavy grasp. “The King ain’t gonna be happy with you,”‌ he snarled, “I‌ like to think that your coven got off easy.”

The thought that being burned alive in your own home was getting off easy, made Virgil feel so unbelievably sick that he felt bile rising.

There was no way that Darien and Remus had gotten off easy. Buried under rubble with heat from all sides, heat that you couldn’t escape, that you choked on and eventually made your suffering so unbearable—

Virgil coughed, blood painting his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling heat prickling the back of his eyes. The water threatened to spill, but he fought back the urge. The knights already had enough reason to mock him; he didn’t want crying in front of them to be another.

The first knight grinned wider. He pushed himself away from the curled up form on the ground and circled around to the other side of him. He grabbed Virgil under the shoulder where the arrow was still implanted into it, before seemingly like he had a better idea. “Hold the witch down,”‌ he said to the other two. “Roll it over onto its back.”

As he was pushed onto his back, Virgil’s eyes snapped back open, blurred as they were, and they locked on the first knight. They widened as he noticed the knight’s hand wrapping around the shaft of the arrow.

He’s going to pull it out. It’s going to get ripped out without care or precision.

Doing that, could ruin his shoulder for life. There was only so much healing magic could do when you weren’t skilled enough in the practice. The fact that the arrow itself was going to be ripped out the opposite way it had been shot in made his stomach churn.

“N-no!”‌ Virgil had finally found his voice, but the demand came out weaker than he had anticipated it. The three men above him didn’t seem to care about his protest as the arrow was grabbed half a moment later. “W-wait, please! Don’t— don’t do this!‌ I’ll go back willingly…ju-just leave the arrow alone!”

“So, it talks,”‌ The second knight snarked, his hands tightening on his good shoulder. Virgil’s eyes frantically searched the features above him, the world beginning to darken in his terror. “It’ll only hurt for a few days.”

“Don’t worry though,” the knight said, giving an experimental tug on the arrow shaft, watching Virgil’s pained expressions carefully. “I’m sure you won’t live that long anyhow. So, perhaps, it’ll only hurt for the rest of your miserable life.”

Virgil tried to prepare himself for the feeling of something being torn out of his body, but nothing could have prepared him for the excruciating feeling that rippled through his entirety.

The arrow head had been so far embedded into his shoulder that it had nearly been poking out the other side. It had torn through layers of skin and had caused the wound to enlarge. More blood spilled from the gash and Virgil almost felt numb. So much agony was flushing through his body that he could hardly put two and two together.

He choked on his breathing, blood made another reappearance as he coughed, gagging at the unbelievable amount of torment.

It only made the knights howl with laughter, looking down at the witch. He wasn’t a big kid, in fact Virgil was actually remarkably small for someone his age. His short stature only made it easier for the knights to keep him trapped.

Virgil gasped, trying to find a way to steady himself enough to process just what exactly was happening to him.

Die.

The word was so sudden and startling that he almost couldn’t fathom the meaning of it.

You are going to die.

Everything that had happened in his life was going to be rendered meaningless. As if he had never done anything at all. There was no one left to remember him.

They’re going to kill you right here, right now so the King will reward them as heroes.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears finally spilling over. He choked on a sob and shook his head, trying to get them off. Trying to get them to let him go. Trying to do something that could possibly save his life. Anything.

You’re going to die and there is nothing you can do about it.

His mind was alive and buzzing, but numb and everything was confusing and he couldn’t see straight, he could hardly breathe. There was so much assault happening to him that his senses couldn’t comprehend everything. From the sharp, stinging pain in his shoulder that was going to kill him if he didn’t get it treated to the electric buzzing going on inside his head from the constant movement and chatter, or even when it came to noticing the quaking in the ground that hadn’t been there before.

Wait.‌‌ What the holy hell was that?

“I didn’t think witches understood human emotions,” the first knight said, snapping the arrow between his two hands and tossing it to the side idly.

He seemed to be the only knight that hadn’t honed in on the difference in the air around them. The way the ground kept shaking in a steady and oddly familiar pattern. It was timed and paced, but shook with a passion. It felt like…like… oh.

Oh no.

No, no no no!

Virgil was too scared to open his eyes, knowing that his consciousness was just barely holding on. It was only a matter of time before it was over for all of them. Seeing through the blood loss and tears wouldn’t help either, but he knew what was coming. He knew that it was way worse than what the knights had in store for him.

“L-let me go!” He grit out, almost trying harder but with his strength failing him, he sounded pathetic.

“Now, why would we do something like that?” The knight crooned. “We caught you and now we’re going to fulfill our duty to the King.”

“No!”‌ Virgil’s voice verged on shrill. “You— you don’t get it!”

The footsteps were getting closer, more prominent. The earth shook with every footfall and the force rattled through him as he was laying flat on the ground.

It was then that the knight seemed to realize what was happening. The first knight was turning to see something he did not want to see.

“What?” The knight barked in surprise, immediately on his feet with his sword drawn. The other two followed suit leaving Virgil on his back, heaving with gasps and anguish.

Just as the knight had gotten the word out, the darkness slid over them, casting the four humans into its shadow.

Virgil knew that it wasn’t a cloud blocking the sun; it was something far worse.‌ Far more dangerous.‌ Something that made him want to be dragged away by the knights and thrown in front of the king. He’d rather that then suffer a death at the hands of a giant.

“Now isn’t this quite the sight,”‌ the rumbling voice from overhead made Virgil flinch further into himself, keeping his eyes screwed shut. He had already memorized the faces of his other tormentors, he didn’t need to see this one too. “The King’s men, supposedly meant to protect the citizens of the Kingdom, attacking one of their own.”

“A‌ witch!”‌ The knight barked, his hold on his sword wavering, terror eating away at his insides. It was obvious how frightened he was, but the stubbornness within him refused to let it show. “It is no member of our society!”

Roman scoffed, his eyes locked on the quivering little form on the ground. “I don’t want to assume, but I‌ would believe the witch would prefer to be addressed as a he not an it.”

The knight threatened to take a step towards the witch again, but Roman moved forward more, to match in confidence and challenge the knight. Giving more of a protective loom over the group of three knights.

“Witch or not, he is still a person,” The giant said, a growl just under the tone of his voice. “Or is that too hard for your bitty human brains to understand?”

The second knight reeled back from that, looking white in the face. His terror was clear to read. The third knight was harder, but the quivering of the blade showed real fear. The knight that was still talking back just seemed to be an idiot.

The first knight met the giant’s eyes, fearless and stupid. “I suppose that means monsters stick together.”

A sharper look filled Roman’s eyes, almost immediately the aura darkened, and he leaned down so much so that they were nearly at eye-level. He hovered just over them to assert his dominance in the situation. To further assert himself, he planted his hands on both sides of the group of knights—even though he was carefully aware of where the little witch was cowering, sobbing, bleeding out and shit I‌ have to deal with these fools quick.

So, he focused all of that irritation and frustration into staring, unwavering, at the knights in front of him. Their swords were nothing compared to him. Humans were absolutely nothing compared to him. “Keep using language like that and I will scrape you across the forest floor like old gum.”

Finally, that got the reaction he had been wanting. He wanted fear, and he wanted them to regret stepping into his part of the woods and torturing an innocent person—witch or not—as if they could get away with it. As unbelievably angry as he was, he knew that he would have to treat the little human and his injuries.

“I’m going to give you a single chance to leave without getting hurt,” he said, voice dangerously low. ‌A menacing snarl that reverberated through his chest and rumbled around them like a thunderstorm waiting to happen. “Get out of here. Now.”

The two other knights had no problem sticking their swords into their sheathes and bolting in the same way they came, their armour clanging together as they escaped. The first knight held his ground, but when chocolate brown eyes stayed locked on him, unrelenting and cold and unsympathetic, the knight felt his heart jump into his throat for the first time. He took an unsteady breath and his resolve shattered when he watched Roman bare his teeth in a sneer at him.

It took nothing for him to scamper off in the same direction as his colleagues.

Now, with the threats gone, he could pay some attention to the witch that was still bleeding out on the ground.

His hands moved from their defensive position, that he had been using to keep himself upright, to one that was encompassing the little human. Curled around the tiny shivering form as if to protect him and ward off any further predators that intended to harm.

“Hey,” his voice was softer, as quiet as he could get it to be without causing more alarm. Perhaps after everything though, Roman would still be registered as a threat because of what the witch had just witnessed. He watched the tiny form flinch away from the sound, one hand moving to cover the gaping wound on his shoulder. “This might not sound all that…reassuring, but you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

The witch gave the tiniest shake of his head in a clear and obvious distrusting “no,” but his eyes remained screwed shut. The human’s hands were smeared in his own blood, the ripped white shirt he was wearing had been stained crimson with the thick liquid.

Biting into his lower lip, Roman let his gaze flicker. The creature was obviously in a great amount of pain and he seemed to be losing consciousness. “I‌ know you have no reason to trust me, but would it help if you knew my name?” Without an answer, he was sure the human was starting to doze but he needed him awake. So, talking to him was the only rational thing that came to mind. “My name’s Roman. I know this is an odd way to meet someone, but it makes for an interesting origin story, don’t you think?”

The witch groaned up at him and for a moment, he thought they were actually communicating, only to be let down—unsurprisingly—when the human didn’t react anymore than that.

While he wanted to get him patched up as soon as possible without moving him, as that could agitate the wound further (or so Logan said), Roman needed to get the human back to his home. There, he had medicines and remedies that would help begin the healing process. And, if the knights were right and the human was a witch, he should know some healing spells himself, too.

Quickly making up his mind, knowing that he couldn’t leave the half-conscious human here by himself to go and retrieve medical supplies, he began to close his hands around the tiny form before pausing. The human hadn’t even looked at him once and Roman didn’t want to startle him by just suddenly grabbing him and hefting him high into the air.

“I’m gonna have to move you, alright?‌ That way I‌ can take you back to my place and my friend and I‌ can get you all fixed up,”‌ Roman chattered at him quietly, explaining his plan while also asking for permission. “That way you’ll be right as rain in a couple days. Will you let me do that?”

The witch made a small noise and Roman was ready to roll with that, when instead it opened its mouth. He held his breath, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss anything important.

“…nuh.”

It sounded like a no but even knowing that the creature didn’t want to be moved, Roman couldn’t just leave it here to die. At least, not in good conscience.

His shoulders drooped and he couldn’t do it. “Sorry little buddy,” he said quietly, the apology doubled as a warning.

It seemed the witch understood that much as the eyes fluttered open lazily. The brown eyes were glazed over, that much was obvious to tell. The little one was watching but Roman didn’t think he was actually seeing. Or if he was even able to connect what was happening right now to reality. The little thing had to be inches away from death and, if worse came to worse and Roman couldn’t save him, at least the human would be in safe company when he passed.

Refusing to let that thought rule his motivations, he carefully scooped his palms underneath the tiny being, incredibly savvy to how he cried out with such a heartbreaking noise. The little one was absolutely petrified.

Heart crawling up into his throat, Roman cupped the human between his two hands and lifted the little one off of the ground and out of its puddle of blood, into the cupped bowl of his palms.

The human groaned in agony and Roman was quick to coo to him, making small comforting noises in the back of his throat. Trying to make the awful situation better as he rose to his feet. “Shh, shh. I know, little one, I‌ know,” he soothed, “I know it hurts but I’m going to get you back home and I’m going to get you all patched up. I’m not gonna hurt you, you’ll be okay.”‌

He felt so horribly guilty that he hadn’t heard the commotion earlier. He knew it wasn’t right to blame himself for this, but he couldn’t help it. Not with how the witch was trying to focus on him, only to let his eyes slip closed.

It looked as though he was ready to accept his fate.

Roman couldn’t let him do that—not without at least trying first.

“You’re okay,”‌ he hushed the tiny human, “no one’s gonna hurt you again. You’re safe with me, I‌ swear it.”‌

Roman looked up briefly to make sure he was heading in the direction that would lead him home, before focusing back down on the form in his hands.

“I’ll take real good care of you.” His voice was nearly a whisper, a silent vow as the human began to drift off into full unconsciousness. “I‌ promise.”

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Hol Horse

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

So last year I thought it was a good idea to try and review all of the enemy Stand users in Stardust Crusaders in a totally random order. The results were… mixed. Some of them I think came out okay, but others? Not so much. One of them was just an entire backhanded attack against some guy who decided to say “No one likes your analyses” because I think ProJared was a creep. It was, quite frankly, a mess, and I never bothered to revisit it and never thought I would, even though I still hadn’t covered the glorious, wonderful human being who is Hol Horse.

Well, now, after playing Heritage for the Future and All-Star Battle as well as just becoming a bit more knowledgeable on JJBA, I’ve decided to not only give Hol Horse his dues, but also at least briefly go back over or cover the other Stand users and give them a rating or an updated rating, as the case may be. So buckle in, this is gonna be a long one, and it’s all gonna start with everyone’s favorite incompetent henchman.

Hol Horse is probably one of the most amazing characters Araki has ever created. Hol Horse is in possession of a powerful Stand, The Emperor, which is literally a magical gun that fires bullets he can control the trajectory of. By all accounts, Hol Horse should be the single most dangerous foe that the Crusaders face, more than even Vanilla Ice. This guy should be able to shoot them all dead without a second thought! There’s just one tiny little caveat:

Hol Horse is a fucking moron.

This man is cowardly, incompetent, and just the punching bag of cruel misfortune as all his plans constantly go awry and he is constantly knocked on his ass. And yet, Hol Horse is still the most beloved enemy Stand User of Stardust Crusaders, and it’s not hard to see why. Because despite all of his bumbling, Hol Horse just oozes a sort of cool you just don’t see every day.

(For best results, listen to this the whole time while reading the following).

Motivation/Goals: Hol Horse is one of the few henchmen of DIO who is motivated purely by his own greed… at least, at first. Eventually he has his ass handed to him one too many times, and he decides to try and assassinate DIO. This goes about as well as you’d expect, and Hol Horse – not just part of it, the ENTIRE Horse – is so scared out of his mind that he decides, yep, loyalty to DIO is the way to go! It doesn’t work out, but hey, he tried, right?

Performance: Imami Williams gives Hol Horse that raspy, American charm he needs in the anime adaptation. With his voice and the animation combined, we get to see our favorite smarmy sharpshooter who can’t shoot for shit shoot his shot and miss every time, and it is simply glorious.

Final Fate: Hol Horse kidnaps Boingo and forces him to work with him to finally get his revenge! With the prophetic skills of Thoth and the raw damage that can be done with Emperor, there’s no way they could lose! And yet, as is always the case with Thoth, things go horrendously awry and Hol Horse, despite having the ability to control the trajectory of his bullets, ends up shooting himself and knocking him out of part 3 for good.

Best Scene: Really, just the entirety of the episodes where he teams up with Boingo, especially when he tries holding up Polnareff. Considering what comes after and what came before it, it’s just the dose of lighthearted fun needed before you watch all of your favorite characters get brutally murdered by DIO and Vanilla Ice,. 

Best Quote: There is only one line it could be, and it’s Hol Horse’s response to Thoth’s suggestion he kick a woman in the neck: “Listen, Boingo... I am the nicest man in the world. I have girlfriends everywhere. I might lie to a woman, but I'll never hit them! It doesn't matter how ugly they are! Because I respect women!”

That’s right, everyone. Hol Horse drinks Respect Women Juice.

Final Thoughts & Score: Hol Horse is simply astounding. The character is such a colossal screwup that he shouldn’t be as good as he is… yet he is. The dude is gifted with the most incredible power imaginable, and yet somehow he is never able to do a goddamn thing with that power! You control where the bullets go, dude! How can you not hit anything?! It’s interesting how his cowardice and lack of motivation makes him a perfect representation of the inverted Emperor tarot card, but hey, tarot motifs are par for the course with the Stand users.

But there’s something charming to how pathetic Hol Horse is. He’s always plying second banana, he’s a dirty coward who turns tail and runs when things aren’t looking good for him, he never wins a single battle, he didn’t even kill the one guy it seemed like he killed… but throughout it all he still has this sort of smarmy charisma to him that makes him impossible to hate. It’s no wonder this guy has girls all over the world, because he is a world-class charmer. There’s also how Hol Horse is just a character who really, really lives by his own personal philosophy – that is to say, he always likes to be #2, never going into a fight without backup. It’s kind of refreshing to see him always stick by this, even to his own detriment; it’s hard to hate a man who’s principled to that degree. And, of course, this man respects women. Good on him.

It helps that Hol Horse’s inexplicable popularity has led to him getting his time to shine in outside media. Heritage for the Future has two versions of him, his regular form and one that partners him with Boingo, and in skilled hands his Emperor finally gets to live up to its deadly potential. And he’s no slouch in his return appearance in All-Star Battle, and what’s more impressive is in that game he is part of the base roster while Joseph and Iggy, two of the main heroes, are relegated to DLC! You heard me right: the bumbling cowboy who did not win a single fight or even come close to it and spent a lot of time shooting himself managed to beat out out two iconic heroes from the same part onto the roster! Horsey Man must be doing something right.

As this video shows, Hol Horse is one of the most influential characters in the JJBA franchise, having helped to shape the franchise going forward and helped to inspire the traits that made beloved characters like Guido Mista, Gyro Zeppeli, and Yoshikage Kira as legendary as they are. Hell, Hol Horse is just so awesome he almost got to be a protagonist, but Araki decided that Horsey was too similar to my favorite big-titty Frenchman, Polnareff. This means Hol Horse never got his time to shine as a hero, and so stayed a villain til the end… but hey, can he really be that sad if he gets a 10/10 on Psycho Analysis?

Actually, maybe he wouldn’t like that. He likes to play second fiddle to others, after all. But I guess that’s just the curse with these JoJo villains who want to not stand out; they always end up being the best and most memorable characters.

Anyway, now that we’ve got the best of the best out of the way, it’s time for...

Psycho Analysis: DIO’s Other Henchmen

I’m just gonna give my brief thoughts on these guys. Most of them are pretty one-note oneshots, but there are a few who rise above that and manage to be something else entirely. These guys were a learning experience for Araki, and his enemy Stand users of the week definitely improved with later parts, with Vento Aureo really cranking it up to 11. 

But for now, we’re stuck with these guys.

Gray Fly: I actually stand by my opinion from my original review of him; he’s nothing incredibly memorable, but he’s a solid start to the adventure and he is directly responsible for diverting the journey onto the course it ended up going on. Without him, things would have likely played out far differently. A 5/10 is still a good score for him.

Fake Captain Tenille: He actually gets bumped down to a 2/10, due to my changes in how things are scored. He’s not amusing enough to be in the “So bad it’s good” category of the other 3s, he’s just really lame and forgettable, and he still somehow manages to lose when he has the advantage. What a dweeb.

Forever: If you think the monkey boat fight is dropping in score, you’re mistaken. Forever remains at an 8/10 for being such a delightfully weird curveball that helps set the tone for the franchise to follow.

Devo: One of the weirder playable character choices from Heritage for the Future, and certainly not one I like too much; he’s also a random event that is pretty useful in All-Star Battle’s online campaign, so that’s a good mark for him. If nothing else, he gave a good showing of Polnareff’s skills when under pressure, so… yeah. I think a 5/10 is good enough.

Rubber Soul: This review I regret because I was backhandedly responding to that guy who weirdly decided to bring up my distaste for ProJared in a review of Arabia Fats and Kenny G. I do mostly stand by what I said; Rubber Soul is one of the more amusing minor foes, if only because of his ridiculous performance as Kakyoin. Still, it really sucks he was just a clone character in Heritage for the Future… put he gets points for  having the iconic cherry-licking as a taunt. 6/10 is where he remains.

J. Geil: Again, my opinion hasn’t changed: J. Geil is a mountain of wasted potential, but at the very least he makes for a good antagonist for his brief appearance and hey, he’s the one who helped bring us the beautiful hunk of man that is Hol Horse, so I’d feel bad giving him less than a 7/10.

Nena: I honestly think Nena is one of the most boring Stand users of the part, which is sad because her episode gives Joseph the spotlight. She’s just really gross and uninteresting, and you’ll likely forget her after her episode is over. 2/10.

ZZ: ZZ is not particularly great, and his design is just there to be a joke, but it’s hard to totally hate a guy who manages to roll references to Christine, Duel, and the album cover for Eliminator by his namesake into one. I think he’s more of a 4/10, but probably on the higher end there. He’s not great, but he has enough going for him to keep me from hating him.

Enya: So if I thought that J. Geil was a waste of potential, I feel this even more so for his mother Enya. Despite being hyped up as this big, intimidating right-hand woman to DIO early on, she gets one appearance where her Stand is defeated by Star Platinum pulling a power out his ass and then is unceremoniously killed by Steely Dan of all people. I will give her this: her interactions with Polnareff are absolutely hilarious. But when all you have going for is some jokes, don’t be surprised when you end up with a 6/10, which you’re pretty much only getting because even despite the mountains of wasted potential you’re really not that bad.

She do be looking hot in the OVA tho.

Steely Dan: My opinion is unchanged; he’s a solid 7/10 oneshot douchebag. Nothing more, nothing less. His level in the PS1 game seriously blows, though.

Arabia Fats: I was too hard on this guy. While I meant everything I said, and his episode is boring filler, does it really make him a bottom of the barrel all-time worst villain? No. It just makes him a crappy joke character. 2/10.

Mannish Boy: I regret not getting to this guy last time, because aside from Forever he’s probably one of the most insane Stand user of the part, seeing as he is an infant. Like, he’s just an evil baby who can kill people in their dreams. And he gets defeated by being force fed his own crap. Much like Forever, it’s fun to speculate where exactly DIO found this guy; did he just go to a nursery and start jabbing babies with the Stand arrow? Did he meet this guy at a Cairo night club? What exactly is Mannish Boy’s origin? He’s just so utterly and hilariously inexplicable. He’s definitely a 7/10; he doesn’t quite have the shock factor that Forever did before him, but let’s not pretend an evil talking baby Stand user isn’t one hell of a weird twist.

Cameo: This guy really lives up to his name; his Stand is the one that gets the most screentime, with the actual Stand user being relegated to a – you guessed it – cameo appearance at the end of the fight. Thankfully, his Stand is an enjoyable take on jerkass genies and gives a pretty sad and disturbing episode that not only features my man Polnareff, but also marks the point where Avdol returns and brings “Hell 2 U!” I think he deserves at least a 7/10, even if this is mainly for Judgment. Still, a Stand is a representation of the user’s soul, so I think it works out.

Here’s the Stand:

And here’s the man behind it:

Midler: Midler is one of the single most interesting characters from the pre-Egypt half of Stardust Crusaders, and is the point where Stand users really started to get interesting. Her Stand, High Priestess, has a really funky and unique design, and her battle serves as the final roadblock before the Crusaders arrive in Egypt. Despite never appearing onscreen, with only her unconscious body being shown at the end of the fight in a way that obscures her, she got to appear in Heritage for the Future with an awesome sexy belly dancer design and a badass moveset that makes her a really fun character to play as. Taking everything into account, I think she just barely scrapes into the bottom of the 8/10 pool, though really this is mainly for her playable appearance.

N’Doul: My opinions really haven’t changed on him. He’s still an 8/10.

Oingo & Boingo: These guys are, in a word, hilarious. In between the grueling, brutal fight with N’Doul and the later fights in the part, these guys bring some much needed levity to the proceedings. Oingo gets an entire episode where he just completely bumbles about as he attempts to impersonate Jotaro to assassinate the Crusaders, failing at every turn and only managing to blow himself up in the end. Boingo fares a little better, eventually getting roped in to Hol Horse’s scheme to get some revenge, which leads to one of the funniest episodes of the entire series as Hol Horse and Oingo hold up Polnareff. I think they collectively get an 8/10 for being two of the funniest Stand users in the part. They even get their own unique end credits in the anime (with Hol Horse joining in on the fun when he teams up with Boingo)!

Anubis: Again, my opinion is unchanged, though I must say him having technically three playable appearances in Heritage for the Future does make me have at least a little more fondness for him. Black Polnareff, Chaka, and Khan are all amusing characters to play as and all have some awesome theme music. Introducing the concept of Stands being able to exist independently of their Original user is pretty neat, as well as the idea of a Stand that can switch users like it does. 7/10 is still what I’d give it, but I think that it’s pretty telling that this is probably the “weakest” character in the Egypt arcs in terms of being a villain, and yet he’s still pretty cool.

Mariah: Completely unchanged. She still deserves an 8/10, because her episode is hilarious, her playable appearance in Heritage for the Future is a blast, and she’s just really frikkin’ hot. I’m not gonna lie, she’s probably my second favorite enemy Stand user out of the Egyptian ones. I may or may not want her to step on me.

Alessi: I’m going to be honest here: Alessi is my favorite of the Egyptian Stand users. He’s an ax crazy coward with pedophile undertones who is just an utterly demented and sick individual with a seriously intriguing Stand that de-ages its victims. It’s a damn shame he never crossed paths with Joseph and de-aged him, but when he’s just such a hilarious and hateable lunatic with an incredibly fun playable appearance in Heritage for the Future (complete with awesomely creepy theme music!) it’s hard for me to give Alessi anything less than a 9/10. Attaboy!

Daniel J. D’Arby: My opinion is honestly unchanged, but I think I’d bump him down to an 8/10.

Pet Shop: Again, unchanged really. It’s hard to give a character as busted as he is in Heritage for the Future anything less than a 9/10 any way you slice it.

Telence T. D’Arby: Opinion unchanged, 8/10. I don’t have much else to say here, besides Xander Mobus rocks.

Kenny G: See Arabia Fats above. I got irrationally mad over a dumb joke character. He’s not going above a 2/10, but he’s not worth really getting mad about.

Vanilla Ice: I still think he’s the only enemy Stand user besides Hol Horse who deserves his 10/10. My opinion of him remains unchanged, but I would like to say he’s easily one of my favorite characters to play as in All-Star Battle.

Nukesaku: Ok, he’s not an enemy Stand user, he’s just some weird vampire… zombie… thing. Still, I feel he’s at least worth briefly mentioning, if only because he’s probably the only easily-defeated joke villain Araki did from the first three parts who is particularly memorable. Wired Beck and Doobie are really not all that memorable, but Nukesaku at least elicits a few chuckles – he even gets cameos in Heritage for the Future as well as getting to be a stage hazard in All-Star Battle. For what he is, I think he deserves a 5/10.

And with all these enemies taken care of, that just leaves one more Stand user to talk about.. one whose Psycho Analysis has been sitting in my drafts for a year now...