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stormsthatrage · 4 days

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Have a Bleach extended-winter-war time-travel-fix-it idea. In this AU Kaien's death happened before the whole turn-back-the-pendulum arc. (Yes, another Bleach time-travel AU, I know, shut up.)

As Ichigo and Kisuke are planning to go back to the past, Kisuke makes sure to emphasize to Ichigo that they have to protect Shiba Kaien. Apparently, it's of the utmost importance.

Ichigo doesn't know exactly how Kaien's continued well-being plays into saving the future. Kisuke never really explains it, or gives him a straight answer when he asks. But Ichigo knows that the Shiba Clan-Head carried a great deal of political power, and Ichigo also knows that Kaien -- according to Kukaku and Rukia -- was highly competent, incredibly noble, and fundamentally kind. It's not exactly unintuitive that a person like that could be important to bringing down Aizen.

So Ichigo listens, when Kisuke tells him to protect Shiba Kaien. He memorizes how Kaien died in the original timeline. He's attentive as Kisuke reiterates for the thousandth time that Aizen will keep trying to assassinate Kaien until he succeeds. He takes notes when Kisuke hypothesizes about what Aizen's various assassination attempts might look like -- poison during a meal, hired assassins at night, an ambush during a mission.

Ichigo ingrains the assignment into his core: protect Shiba Kaien, because if Kaien falls, the mission fails.

So when Kisuke slips a paralytic into Ichigo's tea and places Ichigo in the middle of the time-travel kido array and drains the entirety of his own spiritual energy to activate the array, a sacrifice that Ichigo never would have agreed to--

Well. The first thing Ichigo does when he arrives back in the past, numb and alone and only able to function by focusing on the duty that is his purpose -- is track down Shiba Kaien.

After all, if Ichigo is going to kill Aizen -- and he is, no matter what it takes -- he needs to keep Kaien alive.

Ichigo goes straight to the Shiba family grounds. In true Shiba fashion, they accept him immediately as family. They tend to his wounds and give him a meal and welcome him home. They let him get away with his weak excuses and explanations, and they defend his presence to the rest of Soul Society.

Kaien, in accordance with everything Ichigo has heard about the man, personally takes the newest addition to the family under his wing.

Ichigo's plans to deal with Aizen take shape around his need to keep an eye on Kaien.

Ichigo, instead of running as far and fast as he can from the Shiba clan, accepts the offer to live in the Shiba compound. He gets to know every clan member and retainer, subtly vetting for traitors. He sleeps in a room near Kaien's, allowing him to both guard against assassins at night and place warding runes around Kaien's door without having to worry about being caught somewhere he has no business being.

He joins the Court Guard in the 13th division instead of the 5th, because the only real way to protect Kaien on a mission is to be there with him. Ichigo knows that if there's an ambush, or if the mission details have been tampered with, he'll be more than enough fire power to get Kaien out of it. And it's easy to always get paired with Kaien; Kaien -- reliably taking every opportunity to hover around Ichigo that he's offered -- does most of the work, leveraging his status as lieutenant and Ichigo's combat ability to keep them together.

Ichigo finds himself frequently taking meals with Kaien and Kaien's friends. Kaien always invites Ichigo, and Ichigo accepts so he can subtly check the food for poison.

(Ichigo does not tell Kaien about Aizen. Ichigo is still unsure what Kaien's role is in the whole fight, and in the meantime, telling him about Aizen is a sure way to get him killed.)

Things heat up. Ichigo prevents both Miyako and Kaien's death, killing Metastacia before it can hurt anyone. Ichigo's shadow war against Aizen gets more intense. Ichigo sneaks out regularly to dismantle Aizen's illusions, destroy his labs, and attack his network of power, slowly weakening him.

Ichigo waits for the assassination attempts against Kaien, but they don't come, even several weeks after Metastacia fails. Ichigo takes it as a sign that he's got Aizen distracted.

Things continue for a while. Ichigo falls into a strange routine.

(And Ichigo tries not to break, seeing so many of his loved ones alive and unknowing of him. It is agony, to be around Shunsui, who is not his mentor, and the Visored, who are neither visored nor pack.

But the worst is when Captains Urahara and Shihouin catch on to his war against Aizen. He finds himself working with them as allies.

Allies. Mere allies, instead of --

Well. Not that it matters anymore.

All that matters is his duty.)

Time passes. Aizen weakens. There are no attempts on Kaien's life yet.

And then Aizen's web has unraveled enough for Ichigo to attack.

It's a long battle. It's a bloody battle. It's a very public battle.

Ichigo wins.

And it's only after it's all over -- after Aizen's crimes are revealed and Soul Society is at peace and the future is saved; after Ichigo finds himself still alive and adrift, with nothing left obligating him to keep going and everything telling him to give up; as Kaien refuses to leave Ichigo alone and escorts him to regular appointments with Unohana and forces him to talk about the truth of his past --

It's only then that it clicks.

Ichigo is whispering secrets about the future into Kaien's chest, Kaien's arms wrapped tight around him, when Ichigo confesses that he messed up, that he put the Shiba clan in unnecessary danger. Ichigo tells Kaien about his death in the original timeline. He talks about how Kisuke told him that in this timeline, Aizen would try and kill Kaien again if the first attempt failed. Ichigo promises desperately that he never would have sought out the family -- would have kept the danger far, far away from them -- if he hadn't thought he had to watch Kaien's movements so closely.

And Ichigo admits that Aizen never actually tried again. Ichigo admits that he and Kisuke miscalculated, that Ichigo brought danger to the Shiba's doorstep for nothing.

It happens like this:

First, the words leave his lips, "Kisuke" and "miscalculated" in the same sentence. Hearing himself say it lays bare the absurdity of its premise.

Then, Kaien draws away slightly, to look Ichigo in the eyes. Ichigo sees, plain on Kaien's face, a terrible, damning gratefulness.

Then, Kaien says -- fierce and defiant in the face of what could have been -- "I am so glad you came home."

And it clicks. At last, Kisuke's final manipulation reveals itself to Ichigo's eyes.

The emotions flash through him: the sting of betrayal; a flavor of love that bursts across his tastebuds as hurt; a familiar brand of exasperation that, a split second later, has his knees giving out under the weight of old pain made fresh.

Kaien catches Ichigo before he hits the ground and holds him as he shatters. And Ichigo can barely breathe through the knowledge that Kisuke would have been so smug to see them.

A sob rips itself from Ichigo's chest, and it's followed by another, and another.

Ichigo's older cousin holds him, in the home of their family, through it all.

_________

THE END except not really.

This must immediately be followed by a whole arc where Kaien, much to his own dismay, finds himself trying to hook Urahara up with his little cousin.

After all, Future-Urahara sent Ichigo to the Shiba clan. Future-Urahara tricked his little cousin into bypassing his own self-destructive tendencies to seek out family and love and support. Clearly, Urahara would actually be good for Ichigo.

And, you know, Ichigo clearly loves Younger-Urahara, judging by Ichigo's whole... well, everything, whenever the two interact.

(This whole matchmaking endeavor is made easier by the fact that 1) Kisuke is already infatuated, fascinated, and not a tiny-bit madly in love, and 2) Yoruichi is also, from the other end, trying to set Kisuke up with Ichigo.

This whole endeavor is made more difficult by the fact that 1) Ichigo is in denial that he loves this younger Kisuke since he never thought this younger Kisuke could also fall in love with him, 2) Kisuke is in denial that he loves Ichigo because that is a Shiba and he himself is a creepy low-born ex-assassin mad-scientist, and 3) neither Ichigo nor Kisuke know what it looks like when someone is interested in them.)

Poor Kaien. He succeeds eventually, but not before witnessing truly legendary social ineptitude.

#bleach #bleach au #time travel bleach style #time travel #kurosaki ichigo #urahara kisuke #shiba kaien #uraichi #can someone please explain to me why this CONCEPT/IDEA is over 1.4k words #please #help...#also if any sentences or concepts don't make sense or if there are typos feel free to say so in a note or something #i did this in a very short amount of time and am too done with it to actually properly proof-read

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eyeofnewtblog · 6 months

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Things that happen at home:

So, husband had surgery on his hand today (related to the stroke he had on January Friday the 13th…can we all agree that while tragic and devastating and painful, this is also peak comedy and it’s really hard to keep a straight face with Serious Medical Professionals who are trying to give Important Medical Care Information)

Notable hilarity:

The nurses and doctors all have badges to get them through certain corridors. Once you are inside the hospital, they badge you through to certain areas. As part of their job, as part of the medical process, etc. They are focused on the patient, so if you just happen to be memorizing all the turns, they aren’t going to notice.

They also don’t get paid enough to stop you when you barge in randomly.

My husband’s surgery took two hours but they held him until the anesthesia wore off so my reasons for barging in were “he just got out of surgery and he needs his phone” (the phone did not get left with him, he was way too groggy for that) “I went home and brought the dog back with me, this is Zelda” (huge success, one nurse said it was a “great Halloween surprise”)

Got asked by a random woman how I made it past the doors, as she was in the same predicament (husband in the recovery ward) and I was like “just flag down someone who doesn’t get paid enough to care” and since I was currently holding the door open for her to “illegally” access her husband, she just did that whole face scrunch shrug thing of “I don’t want to or dislike breaking rules/medical advice, but I’m on a Husband Caregiver Mission, sooo…through the door it is.”

My husbands very drugged and groggy reaction to Zelda being there. Lots of “Oh, this is my baby. Have you met my baby? Hi baby!” He introduced the same nurse to the same dog 2.5 times. I stopped the third one halfway through because she was unhooking him from the machines and it was time for him to put his Real People Clothes back on.

Have you ever dressed your spouse while they are very very drugged and you are sober? Drunk counts.

Like, he knew it was me doing the dressing, but the conversation you have to have leading up to putting on a shirt…my siblings are so drastically younger than me that I Know How To Dress Another Person Efficiently…but having to explain to a drugged spouse that shirts go on first, sitting down, then ALSO SITTING DOWN underwear and pants get put on one leg at a time, and we pull them up together.

I think “don’t forget the fly, pull the fly up, I don’t wanna flash the nurses” has got to be my second favorite drugged up spouse line. He had full underwear, there was no risk of flashing.

My absolute favorite drugged up spouse line is when I barged into the recovery unit the first time (so no dog) and the nurse was like, “he’s still pretty out of it, it’s probably going to be another hour,”

And I’m not the best wife, okay, so in front of my drugged up husband who absolutely HATES having his blackheads or pimples popped, I say out loud “so, basically he can’t run away or fight me at all right now if I go after the blackheads on his face?”

And my husband swings his good arm at me vaguely and with zero force and says “NNgh! Fight. Nnnnnno.” And then sort of collapses and gives the nurse his giant puppy eyes and says “Don’ ledder. Plesss.”

And me and the nurse both look each other in the face and recognize that I’m really just testing how out of it he is and agreeing with her.

Also I started a frozen lasagna when I went back to get the dog…my recommendation going forward is that you should add at least a half hour onto your time if you want fresh food waiting for whatever patient you’re helping. Also it’s hard to juggle sides, so having lasagna and Texas toast with cheese shreds is…not ideal.

#humans are space orcs #fuck #we all fuck up #but sometimes it’s funny #things that happen at home #surgery

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artifacts-archive · 1 month

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Protective Figure of Aha-Bes

Egyptian, ca. 1800-1750 BCE (Middle Kingdom, 13th dynasty)

Resembling the protective deity Bes, this benevolent demon holds a snake in each hand, symbolizing his ability to ward off the bites and stings of venomous creatures. The figure has the proportions of a dwarf, the head, mane and tail of a lion, and human eyes. Similar figures to this one were depicted on magical wands of the Middle Kingdom. The details of the figure, such as the eyes, mane, nipples, and the snakes are marked with dark blue lines and dots.

#artifact #Egypt #figure #middle kingdom #ceramic

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perfinn · 1 month

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the heat that drives the light

aemond targaryen x tyrell!oc - part ii

wc: 4.4k

summary: aemond confronts his mother about his betrothed, but the wedding goes ahead, leaving the prince to grapple with his complicated feelings toward the tyrell girl

cw: NSFW, blind character, period typical ableism, ableism in general, for prosperity dubcon (because aemond is (allegedly) not into cecily but he still feels like he has to do his duty. but both parties consent), period typical misogyny, aegon being a creep, allusions to aemond's 13th name day

masterlist, read on ao3, divider by saradika

Cecily Tyrell had not yet reached her seventh name day when she fell ill. A visit to the Arbour struck the young Lady down with an illness that not even the finest of the citadel’s archmaesters could name. It was believed she contracted it from a passing sailor on the docks of the Arbour, explaining away the mysterious nature of the sickness. Some maesters, younger and full of ideas, suggested it had come from Qarth, the work of some warlock testing the potential of pestilence as a form of warfare in enemy lands. Others, more experienced and grounded, were sure it was only some disease that the Essosi had grown strong against, that had gone from Essos so long ago no one had thought to mention it to Westerosi sailors on their shores. It had only struck Cecily because she was so young, they had supposed.

But, regardless of anyone’s theories, there was no real answer. It was a mystery to all but the gods, Cecily’s mother had once said. Despite that no one had any real knowledge of the illness Lady Cecily’s father, Lord Martyn Tyrell, did not rest in having her treated. Cecily was his only child, and her birth had near killed his wife. He had no other heir, yes, but his determination was born from far more than the issue of succession. To lose his Cecily would be to lose half his heart.

Cecily survived, of course, and thankfully did not infect another. However, despite all the treatment her little body could handle, her vision had been taken from her. She could not see a thing but for a blur of colours, and even then only in the bright sunlight.

“I’ve come to see my mother.”

Criston Cole looks the young prince over with a carefully neutral gaze. Aemond is certain Cole knows how to read him, certain he sees the tension lacing his shoulders almost up to his ears. He does not care, though, what the knight sees.

“Cole.”

Cole appears to contemplate another moment before he nods and opens the door to the queen’s solar, announcing Aemond’s arrival.

Alicent stands to greet him, eyes following him as he stalks into the room, standing across from her. Her face, which had been a smile to greet her son, falls to a confused frown.

“Something is the matter,” she says, tone lowered inquisitively. She broaches the topic with a statement, not a question. She knows Aemond better than she knows her other children, can read him like a book at the worst of times. They’re alike, perhaps too alike.

“I’ve seen the Tyrell girl.”

Alicent closes her mouth, exhaling deeply through her nose and lowering herself to sit again. She pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a moment before looking back at her son. “You weren’t supposed to see her until the wedding.”

“I’m aware,” says Aemond, voice clipped. “And I can see why. I won’t wed her.”

“This is not up for negotiation, Aemond.”

“I’m not going to suffer this humiliation just for political gain,” he says sharply. “Just because I’ve lost half my sight-”

“I did not pick her for you because of her blindness,” Alicent says, standing back up and approaching the tense prince. “How could I do that to you? When have you known me to have anything but your best interests at heart? I chose her for you because I believe she is a fine match. She is as shrewd as she is pretty, she has a sense of humour, she has a political mind, and someday she will be the Wardeness of the South. A fine one, at that. If I had wanted an easy political alliance, I would have offered her Daeron’s hand. It would have been a lot quicker. They could have wed in Highgarden and it could be done by now. But I want for my children to be happy, Aemond.”

Aemond hums and bites back a remark about Helaena and Aegon, but he’s just rational enough to hear his mother out. It will do little good to hear her reasoning, though. Her good intentions cannot dull the blow of his embarrassment.

“I believe that the two of you can build something wonderful together,” Alicent says, taking Aemond’s arms. Her touch is gentle, a comfort, but not one Aemond wants to be given now.

Aemond can hardly unclench his jaw enough to speak in clear sentences. “Then why was she to be kept from me?”

“The decision was not mine. Lord Martyn wished for her to be kept separate from you until you meet her at the ceremony.”

Aemond shifts, an odd swell of defensiveness building in his chest. Not for her, he tells himself. For me. “He is ashamed of her?”

“Quite the opposite. He loves that girl more than anything, he is just worried. He fears there is an issue of succession, he is paranoid Cecily’s claim will be threatened.”

Sounds like someone else I know, thinks Aemond bitterly.

“He doesn't want anything to jeopardise this union, including you.”

“He was right to worry, mother,” he snaps, pulling away from her. “I will not be forced into this union. I am owed more than an invalid!”

“Aemond,” hisses Alicent. “You can hate this until the day you die, but it is happening, and you will try to be a good husband to her. We must make sacrifices for the sake of our family.”

She thinks he is being irrational, and perhaps she’s right. But he has earned the right to irrationality, has he not? He was robbed of his eye, he received no retribution, and now it is all anyone ever sees. His mother can speak all she wishes of Cecily’s attributes, it is all overshadowed by her weakness. A weakness he does not share, no matter what anyone would whisper. How much more must he sacrifice for the sake of this family?

He clenches his jaw, turning away from his mother and moving to leave the room. “You do not know me as well as you thought you did. You should have saved everyone the time and married her to Daeron.”

Despite Aemond’s week of staunch refusal and threats to fly off on dragonback and never return, the wedding goes ahead. Somehow, he’s wrestled into the Red Keep’s sept and made to await his bride.

Instead of his preferred dark green clothing, he’s been forced into a black doublet with a dark red undershirt. It makes him uncomfortable not for the feel of it – the fabric is luscious and comfortable and it fits him perfectly – but for what the colours represent. That he is a prince of House Targaryen. This he knows, of course, but it feels nothing more than a name to him. He feels that Hightower blood flows far stronger through him than any other, though he would never dare admit it aloud.

No one would understand him. No one ever has.

He fiddles with the dark red silk poking out of his sleeve, expression turned down in the scowl that’s made itself quite at home on his face, loathing the thing. He does not make a habit of fidgeting with his clothes, but his hatred for the fabric overpowers his usual composure.

(Why do you bother, Aemond? he thinks. She will not even see it.)

If his father had any say in it Aemond would surely have the Three Headed Dragon emblazoned across his damned eyepatch, just to drive the message home. Maybe his betrothed’s blindness has spared him of that, for she’d never be able to appreciate it anyway. He’s certain that this tiny mercy is all her disability will ever do for him.

When the murmuring sept falls quiet, Aemond clenches his fists by his side. He remains facing the statues of the Mother and the Father, watching the way the sun filters through stained glass and lights up the visage of the gods as his betrothed approaches him. He only turns when she is behind him, prepared to take her hand from her father.

Aemond expects to see what he’s come to expect of House Tyrell; opulence and shining silk inlaid with gems, disgusting shows of wealth for the sake of maintaining their status. He hates it, most ardently, but he finds he does not see it reflected in Cecily.

Cecily’s face is hidden by a gauzy ivory veil, embroidered with pale pink roses. Her dress is creamy white, similarly embroidered with all manner of flowers the names of which Aemond could not hope to recall. It is well made and no doubt expensive, but it is not so far into the realm of ostentation that he wishes to turn away in disgust, he would go so far as to call it… pretty.

She looks pretty, in ivory lace and the fern green maiden’s cloak that lays over her shoulders. He almost dreads to lift her veil and be so harshly reminded of the cloud over her eyes. He takes her hand, gently guiding her up the steps.

“Last one,” he murmurs, instantly cursing himself for his kindness to her when she murmurs her thanks. He does not understand himself. He understands himself even less when he hesitates before he reaches for her veil. “Your veil. May I?”

(He does not like her but he will not be a cruel husband. He will not delight in frightening her, he will take whatever care he must to be better than the husbands in his family. She is a rose most delicate, more so than any other. No matter his resentment, she will be his wife and hence shall be handled with care.)

He sees that shrewd smile behind her veil, and sees her nod. “Of course.”

Gods, her voice is sweeter than he remembers. The memories of it which have echoed in his head each night since they met do it no justice.

He takes her veil between his gloved fingers, lifting it up over her face and settling it over the crown of flowers that secure it to her hair. Her eyes are turned up to him, even if she does not see. He sees the greyish film over them and the gentle feelings are frozen, replaced once more with resentment.

If he were to turn and run now, would anyone dare to stop him?

Alas, he stays where he is and goes through the proceedings of the union as he’s expected to. Despite his ample protests, there is still a large part of him that longs to be his mother’s dutiful son.

He reaches to remove the green cloak from her shoulders, running his thumb gently over the embroidered gold trim, and replaces it with one of red and black. Black dragons dance across the fabric, and a smile dances across Cecily’s face.

With the septon’s blessing and declaration of their union, Aemond takes both her hands. He hesitates a moment as he sees Cecily close her eyes, wondering what’s going on in her head. Is she afraid? Excited? He finds her impossible to read, and he finds it’s driving him mad. Still, he leans down and presses his lips gently to hers. They’re petal soft against his but he does not let it linger.

He fears if he does he will get lost in it, in the smell of flowers on her skin and the softness of her pink lips. He will not fall to the weak man’s game of lust, no matter if she is his wife under the Seven’s eye. The sept erupts into cheers for the new couple, and Aemond does not miss the way Cecily flinches at the sudden barrage of noise.

He finds himself cursing their guests for frightening his wife, and he does not know why.

Aemond is not granted a moment to speak with Cecily until the two of them are sitting beside one another at their wedding banquet, his new wife placed on the side of his good eye.

The food is placed before them, and the first words his bride speaks to him in near-privacy are, “What have they prepared?”

Aemond taps his finger against the arm of his chair, looking between Cecily and the meal before him. “You seemed to have a keen sense of smell when last we met.”

Cecily chuckles, nodding slowly as she feels across the table for her fork. “As far as anyone but you, Flora, and myself is concerned, that meeting did not happen. But yes, I can smell things better than most, though it may only take me so far. I can smell, hm… fowl, and vegetables, and I can smell spiced honey, and of course the wine that flows from our cups.”

Aemond looks down at his plate, scowling at the sheer aptitude of her nose’s instinct. “It is honey glazed duck with stewed vegetables.”

“Ah!” Cecily delights, brightening with a smile. “It has been some time since my nose has served me this well. The Gods must smile on us today.”

Aemond scoffs. “The Gods have more important matters to tend to than what a blind girl smells for her dinner.”

“The Seven looks upon us always, lord husband, always,” she says as she begins to eat her food. Aemond scowls. She seems pious, even if she does not act as demure as a woman should. He supposes that very few women he knows do, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

Cecily does not bother him while they eat, but he watches her and sees she has not switched off. She is listening to the conversations around her, brow turned down in focus. Aemond looks away from her and to the wine in his cup, finding himself trying to do the same. He does not tune into much except half a hushed conversation between his mother and his older brother.

He hears the words “abhorrent” and “heretical” hissed from his mother, and decides the conversation is not one worth hearing. It does not surprise him to hear that said to Aegon.

When dinner is finished and their empty plates carried away, Cecily leans toward Aemond again.

“I am sorry we cannot share a dance,” she says.

Aemond looks over at her, seeing her hands are tracing once more over the embroidery of her dress. She had been doing the same when he barged into her chambers last week. Perhaps it’s a comfort for her. “I hate dancing.”

Cecily smiles at him. “I see. Lucky for us both then. Dancing with a partner is an impossibility with no vision, I can imagine halved vision only makes it an ordeal.”

“Mmm,” hums Aemond, feeling that he should be upset by her words. He hates for it to be brought up, but she’s correct. The lack of vision on one side makes dancing a near impossible task. Maybe he was wrong about her blindness offering him only one mercy. But he cannot imagine any more. “Quite.”

Her smile stays on her face, radiant despite Aemond’s cold and dismissive tone. There is a hidden, traitorous part of him that wishes to get to know her. She’s his wife, after all. Maybe it would be beneficial to them both if he made some effort to know the woman he’s supposed to love under the Gods’ doctrine. The woman he’s meant to bed. But he strikes that traitorous urge down and shoves it back into the recesses of his mind. He does not need to know a woman to perform his duty. If nothing else, Aegon is evidence of that fact.

After another moment of stubborn silence Cecily leans away, calling for her cousin Flora. “I shall go speak to our guests, lord husband. Would you like to join me?”

“No,” he says, waving his hand before remembering she can’t see it and hurriedly lowering it, as though embarrassed. “Go.”

He finally sees a hint of her enthusiasm leeched by his dismissive words, and cannot help but be satisfied by it as she stands and offers him a curtsey before turning to Flora and making her way toward where his mother and father – barely conscious of his surroundings – sit. He scowls, thinking of how strongly Cecily will smell Viserys’ rotting body.

He stiffens when another stench places itself beside him, the familiar scent of Arbour red that always seems to hang off his brother. He does not acknowledge him at first, keeping his eye on his own cup – Arbour gold, as is his own preference on the rare days he sullies himself with drink – in the hope that Aegon will see he is not interested in speaking to him.

He has, as ever, no such luck.

“Brother,” says Aegon, words slightly slurred. “You will be most happy with me today.”

“Will I?” says Aemond, setting his cup down but still not looking at him.

“Indeed. I have convinced our mother to forgo the bedding ceremony.”

This gives Aemond pause, and finally convinces him to turn his gaze to Aegon. Aegon grins.

“I knew you’d like that. You’ll still need to consummate, but I’ve done the kindness of letting you do it in private.”

“How did you manage that?”

He shrugs. “A few well placed words about the Seven and decency. Appealing to mother’s faith will get you far, you know. Do not say I’ve never done anything for you. But listen–” Aemond should have known he would want something out of this. “– I can see you do not like her. You will not wish to lay with her, and I understand. But I do not give a fuck if she’s blind, in fact–”

“Do not dare suggest what you have in mind, brother–”

“Come now! I am just being the caring big brother I have always been, Aemond. If you cannot complete the act and you wish to call me in, she’ll be none the wiser. Even if you can, I would still appreciate a turn.”

“Hold your tongue,” Aemond hisses, reaching out and grabbing Aegon by the front of his wine-stained shirt. “You dishonour my wife and your own. Does your debauchery never cease?”

“Gods, brother!” Aegon huffs, clumsily trying to smack Aemond’s hand away. “Twas only a suggestion!”

“Cecily is my wife, and if I hear you’ve touched her you will no longer have a cock to shove in whichever serving girl next takes your fancy.” His voice is low, dangerous. Aegon, though, only seems amused as he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Forgive me, I only hoped to save you from a girl you’re so clearly repulsed by,” he says, as though his intentions had been purely selfless and full of care for his brother. He is so drunk he does not realise that Aemond has never been more serious. “By all means, have the girl. But do tell me if her cunt really smells of roses.”

Aemond releases him roughly, sending the man tumbling off his chair, and stands with the intent to find his wife. He’s thankful to see her still standing before the queen and king with Flora.

He makes his way over, making his presence known to Cecily with a clearing of his throat.

“Your husband,” Flora murmurs to Cecily, and the two of them offer curtsies to the prince.

Aemond watches them for a moment before turning to his mother. “Aegon tells me you have decided there will be no bedding ceremony.”

Alicent offers her son a smile and nods. “Yes, we both agreed it was an affront to the Seven. And I am certain there will be proof enough of your consummation come the morning, won’t there?”

“With any luck, your grace,” says Cecily.

“Good,” says Aemond, not acknowledging Cecily. “Then I wish to retire with my lady wife now. It will serve as a good excuse for father to go rest as well.”

“Right,” says Alicent, moving to stand with the intent to announce their departure, no doubt.

“No need for an announcement,” he says, gesturing for her to sit back down. “We will go quietly. Lady Cecily, come.”

He holds out his arm and Flora carefully guides Cecily to take it, bidding her cousin good night and good luck.

Aemond leads Cecily up to his chambers, hesitating at the door. She has not said a word the whole way. Is she afraid, as he is? Nervous? It would be only logical. Even without the worry of lords of the realm witnessing their coupling, it is daunting for Aemond. He cannot imagine the fear it would cause in someone who has not done it before.

He opens the door, gently leading her inside by a hand on the small of her back. “I will help you find your way around until you learn it,” he tells her.

“Thank you, my lord,” she says, fiddling again with her dress. “Do you know why we’ve been allowed to do this without spectators?”

“A kindness brokered by my brother,” says Aemond, closing the door and looking to her as she stands in the middle of the room, aimless. A sting of repulsion twists in his chest. It feels all too similar to self-loathing, though he cannot know why. “I’m sure it is all we will get in lieu of a wedding gift.”

“Ah, then I must make certain to thank him,” she says, reaching back to begin undoing the lacing of her gown.

“You should not trouble yourself with Aegon’s company,” he says firmly, looking away from her as though trying not to dishonour her in a state of undress.

“Oh,” she murmurs, slipping off the dress so it pools around her ankles. She stands there in only her smallclothes. He glances up, catching sight of her as she slips her chemise from her shoulders and his breath catches in his throat. Her body, svelte but soft with a life of good food and comfort, is near bare before him. She smiles, evidently hoping he’s looking as she plays with her hands. “I hope I am pleasing to you. Will you help me to the bed?”

He watches her in silence for a moment, as though stunned by the sight of his wife almost naked. In a sense, he is. He had not expected Cecily to act quite so boldly. She is a confident woman and not demure as he is aware, but somehow he thought her nerves would get the better of her. Perhaps not being able to see his reactions helps.

Could she see, she would see a man stunned and frightened, and he finds himself thankful yet again for her blindness. He does not answer her but begins to slowly undress, first removing his gloves, then his boots, then he undoes the lacing of his doublet. As he does, he moves toward her. She perks, then stiffens, as though realising what those footsteps mean.

He shrugs the doublet off, and reaches to take her hand. The touch of her bare skin against his, for the first time, burns hotter than dragonfire.

He forces himself to lead her to the bed and watches as she sits down, shimmying up to lean against the pillows, hands settled in her lap as Aemond moves to sit down beside her. It feels wrong to be in a state of undress around a woman, even one who cannot see him. He hasn't allowed himself to be intimate with a woman since…

He pushes that thought from his mind. Hate Cecily as he does, she seems kind enough. Innocent, as he had once been. She will not laugh at him as those women did.

(Gods, he hopes she is truly as kind as she makes out to be.)

Cecily shifts closer to him, gently feeling across the soft sheets for Aemond’s hand. She turns to face him, offering him a timid smile. “I am a maiden,” she tells him. “But I will try not to be boring for you.”

“You do not have to,” Aemond mumbles, watching her hand slide over his arm and onto his chest, then down. He feels his pulse quicken, but does not stop her.

“I wish to,” she promises in a whisper. Her hand trails further down, to the waist of his trousers.

Aemond clenches his jaw and reaches for her wrist as gently as he can manage, though he’s certain she feels the slight tremble in his grip. He moves her hand away, not meeting her eyes to avoid the look on her face– she must be mocking him. She must think him a fool, a boy, an invalid, just like she is. “Let us not make this more complicated than it ought to be.”

“But, I-”

“Lay back. I will do my best to be gentle.”

He finally looks up at her and what he sees is not a mocking sneer, but only confusion. Still, she obliges him and shifts to lay down on the bed, hands folded over her stomach. Aemond’s heart pangs with something he cannot hope to understand, but he ignores it. He undoes his pants, crawling over her and not wasting any further time.

He goes as slow as he can manage to ease her into the feeling, but once he has broken her maidenhead he forces himself away from all sentimentality and care, moving instead with cold, hard duty. He does not let himself think about how she feels wrapped around his cock, soft and wet and warm and tight. He especially does not dare let himself look at her, does not dare see the expression of disappointment and upset that no doubt takes residence on her face. He cannot.

After some time he comes with a grunt, taking a few steadying breaths to keep himself under control. To lose any part of his inhibitions now would be weakness.

I am not weak, he thinks, not doing well to convince himself. Aemond Targaryen is not weak.

He pulls out after a moment and rolls over to lay beside her. Cecily says nothing, but he sees her press her palms to her eyes and take a deep inhale. She’s trying not to cry. A better husband might comfort her, but Aemond cannot bring himself to do so when he cannot even comfort himself. So Aemond rolls over and listens to his wife try to keep her breathing even, feeling weaker than he has in many years.

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond #my work #aemond targaryen fanfic #ableism tw #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond fanfic #thtdtl

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henry-fox-biggest-stan · 1 year

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Rating Austen’s first lines (this is a rating of the lines, not the books) (rated based on my thoughts of when I read them for the first time, unaware of what happens later)

1. Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her. — Emma

Iconic. Makes you wanna be her in just one paragraph.

2. No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her born to be an heroine. — Northanger Abbey

I love this one, I don’t know why

3. A gentleman and a lady travelling from Tunbridge towards that part of the Sussex coast which lies between Hastings and Eastbourne, being induced by business to quit the high road and attempt a very rough lane, were overturned in toiling up its long ascent, half rock, half sand. — Sanditon

Pulls you right in.

4. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. — Pride & Prejudice

It’s a classic.

5. The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex. — Sense & Sensibility

Straight to the point.

6. The first winter assembly in the town of D. in Surrey was to be held on Tuesday, October 13th and it was generally expected to be a very good one. — The Watsons

I hope it was.

7. About thirty years ago Miss Maria Ward, of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the good luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the county of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet's lady, with all the comforts and consequences of an handsome house and large income. — Mansfield Park

Good for her.

8. My dear brother,—I can no longer refuse myself the pleasure of profiting by your kind invitation when we last parted of spending some weeks with you at Churchhill, and, therefore, if quite convenient to you and Mrs. Vernon to receive me at present, I shall hope within a few days to be introduced to a sister whom I have so long desired to be acquainted with. — Lady Susan

Not the worst.

9. Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somerset, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs, changed naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed. — Persuasion

Didn’t ask about Sir Walter Elliot’s passion for monarchy.

#jane austen #emma woodhouse #emma jane austen #northanger abbey #sanditon #pride and prejudice #pride & prejudice #sense & sensibility #sense and sensibility #the watsons #mansfield park #lady susan #persuasion

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weylersource · 3 months

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WYLER VALENTINE'S DAY EVENT 2024!

Dreadful Valentine's Day to you all! I hope someone rips out your heart and uses it as a decoration in their bedroom during this beloved holiday! 💔 🔪

So I, Kara (@remusjohnslupin) one of the mods here at @weylersource, decided to create a chill, straightforward event to celebrate our favourite totally healthy and wholesome insane couple.

SO WHAT'S THIS ABOUT?

The concept is simple. Under this post, you will find prompts assigned to each specific day leading up to the Valentine's Day, on which day we post or share something related to that theme. It can be anything: gifsets, fanfiction, fanart, graphic.

WHAT IF YOU'RE NOT A CONTENT-MAKER?

That's okay! If you're not a content creator, you can share a passage from a book or a quote you read that reminded you of Wyler and that specific prompt. Or you can make a compilation, or a playlist! Basically, all content form is welcome during this event.

ABOUT PARTICIPATION

Lastly, it should go without saying but, of course you don't have to participate every single day and post something for every prompt to be a part of this event.

Just pick whichever ones that inspire you, and please make sure to tag your contributions as #wylervday2024. Don't hesitate to shoot a message if you have any questions.

Special shoutout to Gabbi (@tastethesetears) for indulging my insanity and the fact that I just sprang this on her, and Wince (@wincestation) for helping me through the whole process of picking the prompts!

I can't wait to see what you all come up with!

Prompts can be found here:

DAY 1 (8th of February): Jail/Prison (Because according to an early tradition, Saint Valentine restored sight to the blind daughter of his jailer.)

DAY 2 (9th of February): Letter (An 18th-century embellishment to the legend claims he wrote the jailer's daughter a letter signed "Your Valentine" as a farewell before his execution.)

DAY 3 (10th of February): Key. (In Italy, Saint Valentine's keys are given to lovers "as a romantic symbol and an invitation to unlock the giver's heart", as well as to children to ward off epilepsy, called Saint Valentine's Malady).

DAY 4 (11th of February): Flowers. (In 18th-century England, it grew into an occasion for couples to express their love for each other by presenting flowers.)

DAY 5 (12th of February): Spring and/or Blindness. (A proverb says "Valentine – the first spring saint", as in some places Saint Valentine marks the beginning of spring. / According to an early tradition, Saint Valentine restored sight to the blind daughter of his jailer.)

DAY 6 (13th of February): Heart. (According to legend, in order "to remind these men of their vows and God's love, Saint Valentine is said to have cut hearts from parchment", giving them to these soldiers and persecuted Christians, a possible origin of the widespread use of hearts on St. Valentine's Day.)

DAY 7 (14th of February): Red. (Yes, I mean Valentine's Day in its modern sense. Throw us all your stuffed animals, hearts, and red decorations that are wholesome. Or, knowing this fandom, you guys will use this prompt to break each others' hearts.)

#wednesdayedit #wednesdaynetflix #dailynetflix #tvedit #wednesdaynet #wyler #weyler #wednesday addams #tyler galpin #wylervday2024

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tears-of-amber · 7 months

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As A Devotee Of Freyja, This Is How I’ll Be Celebrating Friday The 13th Next Week!

🐈‍⬛Casting a spell with 13 ingredients that all correspond to the planet Venus and the goddess Freyja

🐈‍⬛Making a charm out of the cat whiskers I’ve collected over these past few years

🐈‍⬛Saying a prayer to Freyja 13 times

🐈‍⬛Making moon-water for my good luck spray bottle

🐈‍⬛Meditating with crystals like rose quartz, green calcite, and carnelian

🐈‍⬛Wearing my amber necklace

🐈‍⬛Light a candle that I’ve anointed with cinnamon oil for luck

🐈‍⬛Make art of goddess Freyja as a devotional act

🐈‍⬛Re-Ward my bedroom space

🐈‍⬛Spend times cuddling my cats

#witchcraft #witchblr #pagan #norse paganism #friday the 13th #spirituality #witchy #witch #paganism #Friday #freya #Freyja #goddess freya #Freya devotee #devotee of Freya #goddess Freyja #Norse gods #norse deities

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kthyg · 10 months

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ghoul. — (consign)

[SIXTH INSTALMENT OF GHOUL SERIES : CONSIGN]

"Kiss your clean record goodbye." Provocation or prediction.

S2 squad went to the 13th ward for a Wipe Out Operation but didn't expect to encounter an Owl in the midst of the operation.

pairing. jungkook x reader, hoseok x reader, jin x reader (ft. myg & pjm)

rating. M

genre. tokyo ghoul au, soulmate au, gore, violence, mass attack

disclaimer. this story is a work of fiction. descriptions of the BTS members in this story does not reflect nor portray them in real life. everything in this story only fits in imagination and does not apply outside of imagination.

warning. lots of bloodshed (mostly spilled from the ghouls :/), depiction of people (doves) getting killed ruthlessly by the Owl and killing methodology was described.

word count. 5k+

lexicon & profiles . masterpost . masterlist . navigation

note from winter 💌

sorry for the long disappearance </3 but er hey, a brand new banner for ghoul!! beta read by loyal beta reader @zyphqr <3 this is just a short one maybe can be counted as a filler chapter too, but it will make do. hope you guys enjoy this <33 and u lots might not notice, but i kind of changed my writing style a bit? I think consign has got to be the most elaborated fic I've ever written cause those detailed words? idk how my brain came up with that but I'm proud of this one

💌 what is winter listening to? in sequence; D-DAY, Interlude: Dawn, HUH?!, AMYGDALA. (All by Agust-D)

📑 if you want to know more about this au, you can refer to lexicon & profiles. any other questions you can refer to me !!

dedication. a gift to all of my readers.

The urban avenue of Seoul tonight was oddly still, with only sporadic leaf rustling in the soft breeze breaking the silence. The streetlights emitted a pale light illuminating the desolate pathway and generating a creepy ambience that felt unsettling. The towering edifices on both sides of the street looked imposing and austere, with dark windows and walls stained by the wear of time. In Seoul, quiet streets like this one often serve as a warning sign, hinting at the stillness that precedes a night of horror and violence.

This only served as a warning that hazards could present in any situation, even in the calmest and most tranquil circumstances.

The only sounds that interrupted the quietness were the faraway noise of cars and the faint footsteps’ echoes. A stray feline would occasionally scuttle across the street, eyes gleaming, barely visible in the low light. Despite the peacefulness of the evening, the street’s stillness felt unusual and peculiar. A strong odour of rot and other, more ominous scents, detectable only by those with heightened senses, hung heavily in the air. An enduring sensation of peril seemed to permeate the surroundings, giving the impression of being under surveillance by something lurking in the shadows. The silence was broken by the occasional sound of shattering glass or the screech of metal against metal. A car alarm would blare for a few moments before falling silent once more.

These sounds, too, added to the unease that hung in the air, hinting at the possibility of danger lurking in the darkness.

For those who knew of the existence of ghouls, quiet streets would be even more unsettling. People would be acutely aware that a ghoul could lurk somewhere in the shadows, watching, waiting for its next victim. The silence of the street, combined with the faint scent of blood in the air, would make them feel like they were walking on thin ice, with danger lurking around every corner.

The 13th ward, Seochu-gu.

The pale moonlight bathed the ward where ghouls were recently reported to be lurking in the shadows. The usually bustling streets were now empty, only to be filled in by a large group of doves - some dressed in formal KCCG attire while others were heavily armed. Operating vehicles and drones were also present, adding to the sense of preparation and anticipation in the air. As Jung Hoseok, the Chief Director of Division II, approached, the sound of footsteps echoed through the night, accompanied by the presence of bureaus.

“Alright, good evening, doves,” Hoseok spoke, his voice firm and commanding. “I, Jung Hoseok, Chief Director of Division II, will be leading today’s Wipe Out Operation that is to be conducted here in the 13th ward.”

You and another four supreme investigators stood at attention, listening to Hoseok’s every word. “Operating squad involved in this operation will only be the Supreme Squad S2 and 75 Bureaus. Other than S2 and Bureau Investigators are required to leave the scene. Failed to do so and get caught by S2 squad members, the bureaus, or me, will receive disciplinary action.” Everyone present at the scene nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. Hoseok continued, “Commencing roll call on S2 squad. Please present your weapon.”

Each member stood tall and proud, eyes scanning the surrounding area for any signs of danger. The atmosphere was tense, and they knew they were about to embark on a dangerous mission. Finally, Hoseok began calling out names; each member stepped forward to present their weapon.

“Present as always.” A soulful voice spoke with confidence.

The roll call started with Jeon Jungkook, the Branch Director of 2nd Ward, as he confidently presented his weapon, the Angel Beat, an SS-rated Ukaku type known for its incredible speed and accuracy. Min Yoongi stepped forward with a bored, unbothered expression and presented his weapon, the 13’s Jason, a Rinkaku type rated S+. 13’s Jason was one of the most potent weapons in their arsenal, and Min Yoongi knew how to use it to devastating effect.

As the roll call continued, Park Jimin, another Special Class member, stepped forward proudly with his charming smile, “Never not present,” and presented his weapon, the IXA, a Koukaku type that was rated S+.

Kim Seokjin, your fellow Associate Special Class, followed suit, responded upon his name being called and presented his weapon, the Narukami, an S+-rated Ukaku type known for its incredible range and power.

Finally, your name was called out. Your grip tightened on your quinque as you presented your weapon, the Aus, a Rinkaku-type rated S+. The Aus was a fearsome weapon known for its speed and agility, and you had spent countless hours training with it to hone your skills. As the roll call came to a close, you stood steady, weapon at the ready.

Hoseok looked around at his team, impressed by their impressive arsenal. “Total of five members. Weapon rating from SS to S+.”

He then briefed the investigators on the operation. “This operation aims to cleanse the 13th ward off ghouls. It was brought to our attention that quite a number of ghouls have been roaming in this ward. Expect every worst possibility as the data collected by the bureaus have shown that several S+ rated ghouls are hiding in this ward.”

“Movement will be in personal formation with 15 Bureaus as back-ups. I will be assisting each one of you through the earpiece and monitoring through the drones.”

The investigators nodded, preparing themselves for the dangerous mission ahead. Hoseok gave them a nod of approval. “Doves, fight with your all. Best of luck,” he said before giving the signal.

“Operation commences.”

With a nod from your leader, the five of you set out into the dark night, ready to fight for justice and protect the citizens of the 13th ward from the threat of ghouls. You moved out, determined to eliminate the ghouls that lurked in the darkness. As all of you moved through the eerie streets of the 13th ward, the tension in the air was felt by everyone. The sound of footsteps echoed loudly as if warning any lurking ghouls of the doves’ presence. Jungkook took point, his Angel Beat quinque ready in his grip. He scanned the area, searching for any signs of movement.

“Clear,” he informed Hoseok, his voice crackling through your earpiece too.

As Jungkook ventured to his chosen route, the rest of the team moved forward, staying in formation before breaking into personal formation. Your squad moved deeper into the ward, searching every nook and cranny for any sign of ghoul activity. The tension was palpable, as all of you knew that any misstep could mean certain death or injury.

To describe Wipe-Out Operation with one word would be unpredictable. This operation was assigned to the Supreme Squad for a reason. Given the unpredictability, KCCG only sent out Associates Special Class and above to prevent any unwarranted damages, and it was usually conducted and supervised by Division Chief Director, Hoseok or Namjoon, according to the wards involved. KCCG strictly prohibited any ranks lower than Associate Special and Special from participating in the operation, no matter how great and exceptional one’s skills were.

It was the experience that counted, at least according to the KCCG’s higher-ups.

“Remaining doves, split into pairs,” Hoseok commanded. “The headquarters sent a newly found vision radar of the 13th ward, and the Rc levels are increasing. Jungkook, be informed. I will send out more bureaus to your side.”

“Very well.” His voice echoed in your earpiece following Hoseok.

“Bureaus, load your Q-bullets,” he ordered, stern and commanding.

The bureaus sprang into action, their movements quick and efficient. They reached for their bullet cases, deftly loading their Q-bullets into their quinques. The sound of the bullets clicking into place was the only noise in the silent night as they prepared themselves for the upcoming operation. They stood in line as they finished loading, waiting for the following order. Each one was ready for whatever lay ahead, their minds focused and their hearts beating with anticipation.

“Weapons are to be fired upon the orders of your respective formation leaders,” Hoseok instructed one last time before going off the communication system.

Suddenly, Yoongi urged you to follow him, “Let’s go (Y/N).”

Noticing the confusion on Jimin’s face, he clarified the situation by pointing out that it wouldn’t be a good idea to form a team with two associates and two special classes.

“In that case, you can take Jin,” Jimin countered, crossing his arms.

Yoongi scoffed, “Damn. Did I miss a notice stating that (Y/N) is your partner again?” He then grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the other side of the ward, leaving Jimin fuming with anger and Jin puzzled.

As you and Yoongi turned to a corner, a loud noise erupted. The two of you stopped any movements, weapons raised as a reflex. You knew better than to speak out loud, so you waited with bated breath. Suddenly, a figure leapt out from the shadows.

It was a ghoul.

Its Kagune gleamed in the dim light and moved at a thunder-like speed, but before the ghoul could even reach the two of you, Yoongi had already unsheathed his jagged quinque. His quinque sliced through the air with deadly accuracy as he pivoted on his heel and swung, slicing through its kagune. The ghoul stumbled backwards, blood gushing from the wound on its side. Yoongi didn’t give it a chance to recover, though. He pressed forward, striking blow after blow with his quinque.

The ghoul crumpled to the ground with a loud thud, lifeless.

You stood back, watching as Yoongi wrenched the blood off his weapon and rested it on his shoulder. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that Yoongi was the most ruthless, quick-witted investigator ever to be born in KCCG. But at that moment, you wished he was anything but those. The ghoul you and Yoongi had encountered was a lone male ghoul. But it wasn’t that fact that made you hesitant.

He looked terrified. Eyes wide with fear.

It wasn’t the fear of being found by doves.

The fear in his eyes was present even before the pair of you arrived. He was about to say something before Yoongi killed him. You didn’t miss the tremble of his lips. “He was trying to tell something.” You approached the dead body.

Yoongi crouched down beside you and examined the ghoul’s face. “It doesn’t matter now.”

You frowned; you couldn’t shake the feeling that you might have missed something important. You scanned the area to see if there were other ghouls nearby, but there weren’t any. You and Yoongi moved forward cautiously. The streets of the 13th ward were silent. The moon shone down the deserted road, casting an eerie glow on the surroundings. As you and your partner walked further into the area, Yoongi suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing you to do the same.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, approaching you rapidly.

Yoongi swung his quinque, ready for use, a menacing look on his face. You followed suit, grip on your weapon tightening. The footsteps grew closer, and you could see the silhouette of three figures approaching your direction with crazed expressions on their faces, ready to attack.

Without hesitation, Yoongi charged forward, striking one of the ghouls with a swift blow from his quinque. They clashed back and forth, Yoongi using his agility to dodge the ghoul’s attacks and strike back with his 13’s Jason. Each time he landed a hit, the ghoul would let out a pained growl, but it only seemed to make it more aggressive.

But it made Yoongi scoff.

He found it funny how the ghoul tried to act mighty and strong when he could easily detach the head from the neck with bare hands. Yoongi fought the creature with a clear stance and graceful movements as if he was performing a dance.

A deadly dance.

He was, after all, a killing machine masking as a delicate doll.

The remaining two turned their attention to you. The male ghoul was massive, towering over you with impressive height and a menacing expression. His kagune, a long tentacle-like appendage, whipped through the air as it prepared to attack. He lunged forward, forming his kagune into a claw; he aimed at your chest. But you quickly dodged the attack, stepping to the side and bringing your Aus up in a defensive stance. He snarled and attacked again.

Yoongi launched a powerful attack with his kagune, slicing through the ghoul’s torso and causing him to fall to the ground with a thud. He dragged his quinque painfully slow through the ghoul’s body as more blood flowed out. He lazily turned his head toward your direction. You were fighting two ghouls, but he didn’t have any intention of helping you, so he continued playing with the dead body.

You can handle them…

Probably, he shrugged.

With a swift movement of your wrist, you sliced through the ghoul’s arm, causing him to screech in pain and recoil. The second one finally jumped into the fight. She was relentless, her kagune striking out again and again, but you were unyielding, dodging, blocking, and attacking with unflinching determination. She charged at you upon seeing her friend being taken down, but again, you instinctively dodged to the side, swinging your quinque in a wide arc. She was fast, but you were quicker as you blocked and deflected her attacks while landing blows of your own. Your weapon finally made heavy contact with the ghoul’s flesh, spraying a shower of blood into the air. She howled in pain, but you couldn’t feel any sympathy; instead, you could feel a rush of adrenaline.

Suddenly, the injured male lunged forward with lightning speed, his kagune striking at you with deadly force. You looked at him with a condescending smirk, “A strong one, aren’t you?”

It was almost psychotic how your tone sounded because nothing could’ve prepared your opponents for your sudden move. Your quinque pierced through the ghoul’s flesh in a blink of an eye, and he let out a final howl before collapsing to the ground, dead.

It took the female one off guard, but you didn’t give her time to recover as you jumped over her head and delivered a powerful kick to its back. She was sent flying with great force; probably broke a few bones and damaged some areas of skin. You looked down at her spasming figure with malice and plunged your Aus into her back, ending her life immediately.

The bureaus under your command had shocking looks on their faces. They exchanged glances with each other as if realising that you were not to be underestimated. Of course, they had always heard the praises that fell from the lips of the higher-ups that you were a skilled investigator, but seeing you in action was entirely another thing.

“New recruits?” Yoongi’s voice was calm and collected, betraying no hint of emotion as he finished off the ghoul he was handling just now.

He did detach the head from the neck.

The bureaus’ complexion paled, every colour drained at the horrendous sight before them.

“Right, I forgot bureaus don’t kill all the time,” because it was clear that killing ghouls was just another day in the life of a KCCG investigator.

Suddenly, a shiver ran down your spine as you caught a glimpse of a figure moving in the corner of your eye. It has to be a mistake. A low growl echoed through the hallway, causing the team to freeze. They knew that sound all too well - it was the sound of a ghoul.

Not just an ordinary ghoul.

“It’s the Owl.”

Yoongi’s voice was the last thing you heard before the explosive sound of the Owl crashing on the ground, announcing its presence and causing debris to rain down on everyone. The heavy feelings that have been crawling on your back. The first ghoul you had encountered, the terror and fear in his eyes.

The three ghouls that were killed.

They died in the hands of doves instead of the Owl.

It was unintentional that they encountered us.

They were running away from the grim reaper but still stumbled on death’s door.

“Take cover!” You commanded the bureaus, grabbing the nearest to you by the arm and pulling them towards the most immediate cover. You and Yoongi were split as he jumped toward the right side. You positioned yourself in front of the female bureau you had pulled with you, shielding her from any potential danger.

The Owl planned all of this. None of these were coincidences.

Reaching for your ear device, you contacted Hoseok, “Emergency code red-O, triple S; Yong. Location, North–”

“Bureaus, fire!”

Upon Yoongi’s command, the bureaus opened fire on the Owl. The air was filled with the sound of gunfire and the whistling of projectiles. But the bullets seemed to have no effect on it. The Owl grew even more enraged and began to thrash about wildly. Its tentacles flailed out in every direction, knocking over walls and sending debris flying through the air.

What the fuck?

Why is he provoking Yong?!

Owls were immune to Q-bullets; sometimes, even quinque does no damage. He should know that.

“Fall back!” You shouted through the chaos, but your command fell on deaf ears. The sound of the continuous firing prevented your voice from reaching your comrades. You scrambled to dodge the tentacles and find another safe cover. You could feel the ground shaking beneath you as Owl continued to wreak havoc on the ward. The dangerous creature let out a deafening screech. Its eyes glowed red as it turned its attention toward the bureaus. It flapped its kagune and leapt into the air, swooping down towards them with incredible speed. The armed investigators scattered desperately, trying to avoid the creature’s deadly tentacles.

“Investigator Min, we need to–”

Yong pounced on a group of bureaus, slashing and tearing with its razor-sharp appendages. They screamed in terror as the beast’s relentless assault tore them apart. Some were still shooting and firing in hopes of distracting or even injuring – just a minor wound on the Owl, but despite their best efforts, the attacks seemed only to enrage the Owl further. It seemed almost invincible, unstoppable in its rage. Its attacks became increasingly ferocious, and the investigators found themselves quickly losing ground.

You turned to your partner in terror, hoping he would just look you in the eyes and bellow a command. “Min Yoongi – !” Except he was not in his spot.

The Owl turned around just in time to block your superior’s attack with its own kagune. It countered with a devastating strike that nearly took Yoongi off his feet.

“Yoongi, Hoseok is on the way. We need to retreat first!” You tried to reach him again while trying to gather the bureaus. The situation was already chaos at its finest; Yoongi definitely didn’t need to add up to it.

With a violent swing of his 13’s Jason, Yoongi charged forward once more, his quinque gleaming in the dim light of the ward. The two engaged in an intense battle, their weapons clashing with each other in a violent symphony. He lunged at the Owl, his quinque slashing through the air toward the ghoul’s head. But no matter how skilled Yoongi was, Owl was no easy opponent, and it had yet to unleash its full power.

Yoongi was not Namjoon.

Not even Hoseok.

Skills unmatched.

Yong’s eyes glowed with malice. Sidestepping the attack, it launched itself towards Yoongi; massive kagune extended, robust scale-red slashed through the air and to his abdomen. Yoongi stumbled back as blood seeped through his shirt.

He cursed under his breath, looking down at his open wound. His stamina was decreasing significantly from all those attacks and defences. But his body had long entered survival mode; he was far from exhausted. The Owl that stood in front of him, he knew very well.

The same Owl that caused a riot and havoc back in his hometown.

The very same Owl that became the reason why he was in KCCG instead of living happily with his family.

The one and only Owl that was responsible for his first ever traumatic event.

The fucking Owl that–

“Yoongi, dodge!” You slammed your body toward Yoongi without thinking twice the moment you saw his eyes go blank. You’ve seen that Yoongi way too many times. The Yoongi that would be deep in thought and stare into nothingness when you passed by his office. The only moment where he would show vulnerability unconsciously, and you knew how much he hated it– because you hated it too– but that always happened in the KCCG building and never, ever during a mission.

The collision between your body and Yoongi’s was extremely powerful that it sent him flying to the other side, to a safer side. His eyes finally met yours as his train of thought was interrupted. The worried expression on his face was the first you ever saw in your time working with him as he screamed your name with great desperation. You could swear you saw his eyes turn glossy before you were sent flying.

You pushed him just in time but were a second late to dodge the Owl’s full-force attack. Your Aus managed only to cover your torso as the Owl’s movement was too quick for your reflex. Your whole body met with the Owl’s heavy blow.

Since when does getting hit by your own quinque hurt like bitch? “S-shit…”

Your body was numb.

Hey, at least you’re not feeling pain.

Better than feeling the pain like someone was taking away your soul.

“Oh, my lady,” A voice reached your ears, although it was very faint due to the impact your body had experienced. You knew whose voice it was. “Do you recognise me?”

It was Hoseok.

You blinked twice as a yes.

“Good girl.” Weirdly you could feel his gentle stroke on your hair. His warmth reached your cold, numbing body. You wanted to close your eyes. “I need you to stay with us until you reach the hospital. Can you do that for me?”

You were tired. You didn’t think you could comply with this order.

“I know you’re tired and hurt, (Y/N), but I need you to just stay conscious. Jin will keep you company. I will take over everything from here. Take a rest, but please stay alive.”

The next thing you know, Jin was already on your side with a worried expression. “(Y/N), hang on there. The ambulance is on the way.” He stroked your hair with his rough, calloused hand – probably due to handling those heavy killing weapons. Your hands were no different. In fact, all ghoul investigators were bound to roughen their hands.

With the quinques.

And with blood.

Oh, are you regretting your decision, (Y/N)?

Never.

“Stay with us, (Y/N),” you heard Jungkook’s voice. Quinque was thrown to the side as he kneeled next to you. You swore his force could’ve injured his knees, but he didn’t seem to care at all by the looks of it. His eyes were only on you. Pupils dilated in fear. Hands and lips trembled as he spoke. “It must’ve hurt a lot, Sakura.”

Sakura.

“Yeah,” you said with minimal energy. “It hurts a lot, Koo.”

Jimin arrived last at the scene. He was out of breath from the sprinting he did when he received Hoseok’s assembly order. His eyes first landed on your half-alive body before the sight of the hideous monster caught his eyes.

Yoongi and (Y/N) couldn’t be that stupid to try and take the Owl down.

One was a half-ghoul, and another one was pure human.

“Oh, Yong Owl,” Hoseok had left your side, hands stuffed in his pockets and walked towards Yoongi, ordering the other fellow Supreme Squad members to follow him with bureaus at the ready. “It’s been a while, don’t you think?”

Yong Owl.

That name caught Jimin’s attention. When Hoseok commanded him to come here, he wasn’t informed which Owl was at the scene; only his rate was told. Jimin pushed back his hair from his forehead. He so badly wanted to burst into a loud laugh. He let his hand stay on his face longer but couldn’t contain the vicious smirk tugging on his lips at the realisation. Of course, it wasn’t you that could be so stupid in this situation.

You were the result of Yoongi’s stupidity.

Yong wasn’t some random Owl. Of course, he wasn’t, even for KCCG. But Yong was especially not some random Owl for Yoongi.

Jungkook hesitated to walk away from you but got on his feet and stood next to Jin with a concerned face for a few seconds. You were, after all, a Jeon. He couldn’t bear to see his family in pain and let the assaulter run away. He was torn between staying by your side or taking down Yong Owl. Jimin slung his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, pulling the younger with him heading towards the Owl.

Yong was the murderer of Yoongi’s family.

“We’ll be right back, (Y/N),” Jimin sent you a wink. A smirk followed shortly after as he continued. “After this, no more danger you can’t take on will come your way.”

Silly Yoongi, but thank you for the opportunity, soulmate.

“Didn’t expect to see me?” Hoseok smiled. “I know you wish to have encountered Namjoon instead because he always lets you go unscathed, worried for his teammates.”

Yong took a step back as the Chief Director took a step forward. Hoseok was known for his ruthlessness, and that fact was well-learned even for ghouls, even for Owls. While he seemed like the most gentle and caring person, the fact was that he was still a ghoul investigator. His motto in KCCG was to kill with passion. He has worked for KCCG for the longest among everyone. His entire bloodline was born only to serve KCCG for the betterment of the world.

Most Owls have their own hideouts that were undetectable by KCCG; hence it was unlikely for Owls to bump into the doves. Moreover, Owls always stayed lowkey.

“But things work differently for me. You bark, I bite.”

A bureau walked towards Hoseok to hand him a quinque suitcase. Jimin whistled at the sight. He knew what was in that. Heck, it even looked different than any other quinque suitcase.

It was the legendary quinque.

It was the quinque imported from CCG, Japan. Previously wielded by Kishou Arima, the legendary ghoul investigator before he died, since then, the quinque has been stored in CCG’s top secret room. It was only recently an evaluation was done to hand over the quinque to worthy hands and make use of it. Hoseok was invited to take part in the evaluation and easily scored the highest. The quinque was named Owl, created from a kakuhou torn out of the Non-Killing Owl during the battle against Arima. Crafted with precision and designed for devastating efficiency, it possessed an air of elegance despite its deadly purpose. It was the only known SSS-rated quinque and the only one known to be created from a living ghoul.

“Unlucky for you; you hurt my favourite person.” Hoseok shook his head in disappointment as he was just scolding a child for his wrongdoing. He activated the suitcase, and immediately, it transformed into the Owl.

The Owl quinque was a masterpiece of engineering, combining intricate craftsmanship with advanced technology. Its appearance was both captivating and haunting, resembling a pair of oversized metallic wings. The wings were adorned with intricate patterns and etchings, reflecting the meticulous attention to detail put into its creation. The surface of the quinque gleamed with a metallic sheen, hinting at its superior strength and durability. The blade of the quinque was razor-sharp, capable of easily slicing through flesh and exoskeleton. Its edges were finely honed and meticulously maintained, ensuring maximum combat-cutting efficiency.

But it was not just its physical attributes that made the Owl quinque so formidable. Within its core lay a unique and deadly mechanism. With a simple flick of a switch, the quinque would unleash its true power. The wings would unfold, revealing hidden compartments and mechanisms, each serving a specific purpose in enhancing combat capabilities. The Owl quinque was known for its incredible speed and agility. It allowed its wielder to move with astonishing swiftness, striking down enemies in a flurry of precise and lethal attacks. Its versatility was unmatched, enabling the wielder to seamlessly transition between offensive and defensive maneuvers, easily adapting to any situation.

Moreover, the quinque possessed a unique ability to absorb and manipulate the kagune, the potent weapon of the ghouls. It could absorb the kagune’s energy and redirect it with devastating force, turning the enemy’s own power against them. This ability allowed the wielder to effectively counter even the most formidable opponents, turning their strength into their downfall.

The sheer power and elegance of the Owl quinque made it a symbol of Arima’s skill and prowess as a CCG investigator. Its reputation preceded it, striking fear into the hearts of ghouls and admiration in the minds of fellow investigators.

It was a weapon of legend, capable of rewriting the course of battles and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Weapon at ready, Hoseok began again, “I don’t want your death.”

In the hands of Arima, the Owl quinque became an extension of his own being. It embodied his relentless determination and unwavering resolve in the face of darkness. With each swing and strike, he delivered justice with chilling precision, carving a path through the ghouls that dared to challenge him, and it was about to be the same for Hoseok.

The legend of the Owl quinque would be relived in his hands.

“Your scream when I extract fragments of you in Cochlea sounds more satisfying.”

And he would start by painting the blood of Yong on the quinque.

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