#because she is straight up saying no literally fuck the world and my entire sacred duty. i'm not doing this at all.

[exigencelost]

See and NOW i'm in the buffy season 2->season 5 rabbit hole, which is infinite. thinking about how she tangibly fails giles by waiting to kill angel: she protects her heart for just a few extra weeks, and so destroys his, and after that their adult/child dynamic is shifted forever. After that she understands herself as the final arbiter of every fate-of-the-world back-to-the-wall decision. Never again will she throw a tantrum like she did in the Season 1 finale, demanding that he construct a different reality, that he make something be Not Her Job. After Jenny dies Buffy knows she is responsible for Giles, not the other way around. The bargain she makes in the season 2 finale is for his life, and the resolve she finally finds in herself that Angel will die by her sword is in no small part for him. Buffy doesn't really mourn Jenny Calendar! But she knows by hesitating she cost Giles something that she'll never be able to get back for him, and she will not hesitate again. And she doesn't hesitate again, and what she does in the Season 5 finale is not hesitation. She doesn't argue with Giles in the runup to the Season 5 finale. She doesn't throw a tantrum. She doesn't throw a book of prophecy at him. She doesn't beg him to find a solution. She doesn't do any of these things because she figured out a long time ago that what happens is not up to him, it is up to her, and so what she does instead is inform him of what is going to happen. The last thing she'll see is me defending her. You try and hurt her and you know I'll stop you. And we could talk for a couple pages worth of text about how buffy gets from the person who stabs angel through the heart in season 2 to the person who says this, and some of us have already done so, but right now I'm just on the fact that it's Giles saying it to her. Saying it's your job to kill her. The fact that Giles never has another serious relationship after Jenny is so key to this analysis by the way. No one recovers from anything. The cost is forever. And if she hadn't found her loophole she'd have let Giles die for this, and that would be forever too. She looks him in the eye and says dawn's life over yours, no question. A couple extra minutes of Dawn's life for yours. After she pulled a punch and it cost him his heart, and then she ripped up her own to follow the next punch all the way through, three years later, he tells her this is what it is your job to do, and she looks him in the eye and says, no.

#buffy #buffy spoilers #this does not count as her asking for time the way she did with angel. for the record. #because she is straight up saying no literally fuck the world and my entire sacred duty. i'm not doing this at all. #she's not flinching from the call. she's looking it in the eye and flipping it off. #and the whole point here is that by season 5 she understands that she simply gets to make that call and absolutely nobody can stop her. #if you screenshot my tags transcribe them so help me god

[bonky-n-steeb]

If you are taking requests? Alpha Bucky having deep primal urges as it heads into winter, and takes his omega to a log cabin in the snow to fill her with pups. Plot twist she already IS full of his pup but Bucky has been too knot-headed to notice!! He’s That Alpha. (No worries if not I just know you could do alpha!buck justice 🤩)

I love this request! Thank you for sending this ;)

knot headed

summary || Bucky is excited to have you alone, but little does he know that he’s the one going to get a surprise.

warnings || unprotected sex. sweet sweet love making. hand holding. oral sex. pregnancy kink. knotting. A/B/O dynamics. MINORS DNI.

This turned out to be so sweet… I’m literally melting. Where’s my alpha Bucky???

“Bucky! This place is soooo nice.” The omega in you preened at the love your alpha was showing you. He had specifically arranged for this cabin just for you to spend this winter.

It was located right in the middle of a coniferous forest and the land was covered with a blanket of snow. The cabin was warm and cozy and you just wanted to wrap yourself in Bucky’s arms.

“I know doll. But what is even more beautiful is you.” He took your face in his palms and you revelled in the warmth. “Oh alpha.” You sighed blissfully.

He pulled you closer and placed his hands on your ass, kneading them. He buried his face in your neck and mouthed at your bonding mark. You smiled giddily thinking Bucky would finally get your surprise by your scent.

“You smell so sweet omega. God, I can’t wait to fill you with my pups.” Your eyes widened and you suppressed a laugh. Bucky was really so gone he wasn’t even able to tell why you smelled so sweet.

“About that. I have to tell you something.” But before you could say further, Bucky’s finger was on your lip. “Sshhhhh, whatever you have to say, we’ll talk about it later. Because we won’t be stopping until I make sure you’re round and swollen with my pup.”

“Bucky, what I’m trying to tell you is, I am already full of your pup.” Bucky stopped unbuttoning your clothes and looked at you wide eyes which soon filled with tears.

“You’re….” Overcome with emotions, he stopped mid sentence. “Yes Bucky. I’m pregnant. I thought you’d get it by the change in my scent but apparently my alpha is too knot headed to think straight.”

“Hey! You can’t blame me. You just smell so good.” He placed his hand on your stomach and you overlapped your hands over his. “I… I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

“Yeah Bucky.” Your wiped off his tears with your thumb and kissed him on the lips. “I’m so happy I just don’t know what to do and what not.” He gently kissed you and you melted in his arms.

“I’m gonna build the best nursery and make the whole house baby proof. And whatever you crave, just tell me and I’ll get it. I’m gonna try my best omega, and I’ll keep you happy and safe.”

As you hugged him, nothing else in this world mattered except your little family. “I trust you alpha.” Your eyes were dazed and a adoring smile was pasted on your face.

“I love you.” He whispered it to you as if it was something sacred. “I love you too Bucky.” You pulled him down to your face level and pressed sweet kisses to all over his face.

Your hands travelled down his front and you started lifting the sweater he had worn. You could hear his breath hitch as your fingers touched his abs. You suckled and licked his pecs and collarbones and you discarded his sweater.

Bucky gently pressed his lips to yours and the kiss was filled with emotions and adoration. The kiss was an I love you said without the words. It was honeyed and meaningful.

He started stripping you of your clothes too. He took time as he kissed every inch of your skin. He was unwrapping you like a Christmas present which he had waited for the entire year. “Bucky, please fuck me!”

“No doll. I’m gonna make love to you tonight.” You thought you were going to melt under his loving gaze. Once you were both naked he gently picked you up and placed you on the fluffy bed. He started trailing kisses from your calves and came up to your core.

He nibbled on your sensitive skin before latching on to where you needed him the most. You moaned out as he licked your wet pussy. Bucky loved eating you out and never missed out on an opportunity. You whined and writhed as he sucked your clit and licked your hole.

“Alpha…” your voice was a breathy sigh. He hummed in response and it vibrated your entire body. “I need you now.” You pulled on his hair and he placed a peck on your clit before crawling up on you.

You felt safe and calm as his scent surrounded you. You rubbed your nose against his bond mark and you calmed down as he purred deep in his chest. Your threw your arms on his neck and pulled him even closer. “Please!”

You both moaned as he slowly entered you. Unlike the usual frantic fucking, this was sweet love making. He laced his hand with yours and held it besides your head.

It felt like you weren’t just connect from head to toe, but you were also connected from heart and soul. His thrusts weren’t hard or animalistic, but rather they were steady and measured.

You were either constantly kissing or looking deep into each other’s eyes. He was truly the most wonderful alpha you’d ever known, and the fact that he was your mate, made your eyes water.

“Bucky, you make me the luckiest person in the world.” Bucky chuckled and increased his speed. “Everyone would say otherwise omega. I’m the luckiest bastard because I have you in my life.”

“Oh Bucky!” Your hands tightened around his as you came around his cock. Little tremors travelled your body and you writhed beneath Bucky. You could feel his swollen knot nudging your hole.

“You look so beautiful when you cum for me.” He kissed your nose and you chuckled at the gesture. Bucky could be the sweetest alpha as well as the filthiest. And somehow, he always knew which side of him you needed.

The way his breath was speeding up, you knew he was close to coming. He thrusted into you a few more times before biting on your bonding mark and finally pushing his knot in and tying you two.

You held on to him tightly as you came again from the feeling of his seed filling you up. Your omega was sated and happy at finally being claimed. This orgasm felt like rolling in a lawn of cotton candies.

You both shuddered in each other’s embrace and held on tightly. Bucky licked your mating bite and pressed kisses on it making you feel even more lightheaded.

“I love you.” You whispered as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep. “I love you too omega mine.” Wrapped up in the arms of your alpha, and dreaming of the new life that awaited you both, you fell asleep.

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #alpha bucky barnes #alpha!bucky barnes x reader

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 16)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood, Death, Gore, Japanese Mythical Folklore, No Major Character Death

Previous Chapter: 土御門天皇 (Tsuchimikado)

Next Chapter: Inferno: Flames of Hell

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast @nayydoesthings

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with NSFW posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

This chapter is LONG, a lot longer than I expected haha, happy reading!

Chapter 16: Non-Standard

Noritoshi was in a shitty mood to say the least. He went home to his clan immediately after getting a summon. The clan head had discussed their stance on the upcoming war and is readying their jujutsu sorcerers for battle.

His half-brother had made a not too subtle snarky remark about you. "You've already gotten yourself a woman? Wonder if she even likes you. I'm willing to bet Homura's cuter than her." Secretly his brother was curious about you, having heard about your special grade status.

Noritoshi steeled himself, knowing his brother's playboy tendencies at his school.

"That's enough. I am quite serious about her, so don't even think of taking her."

He watched his brother shut up upon seeing him like this and left him hanging.

'Heeehhh? That Noritoshi is actually interested in someone? Interesting…'

Other serious matters aside, his father, as usual, asked about you, only for him to find out you've both gotten into an argument.

The head of the Kamo clan only raised an eyebrow. "That’s normal for every couple."

Noritoshi kept his temper at bay. But he couldn't help resenting his phone call with his father that day. If his father was less controlling and obsessive over their clan status, maybe it would have gone better.

No... He was also influenced by the elders. Ashamed as Noritoshi was to acknowledge it himself.

“We… broke up…”

At that, his father shuts his eyes, mood obviously souring.

"You are literally a fated pair, how is that even possible? *sigh* If it proves too difficult with her… well we had that list of marriage partners set up for you. Homura has made it quite clear she and her family would be very delighted to assimilate with ours."

Is this what Noritoshi wanted? A woman who obviously flirted with him as she lusted for power? No, he wanted you, who never inquired about his status. Just about his family, his mom, dad and half siblings.

You made it very clear you were worried about his family's well-being. And whether they would like you or not. You want him to meet yours. You never even asked him for a gift or much favors. (Though he had a feeling your family was pretty well off, based on your clothes and jewellery.)

And he loved the fact that he could breathe like a regular teenage guy around you. The only thing you’ve requested from him so far was honesty and transparency.

"No. That won't be needed. Y/N is mine. She is the only one for me." He spoke slowly and clearly. This is the first time he actually disagreed with his father. He'd lose his sanity without you.

"I expected as much, I've never seen you this determined about something before. Soulmates are so complicated." His father sighed out. "Do as you wish. It isn't wise for me or the elders to interfere with something as sacred and ancient as this soulbond you share with her anyways."

Noritoshi felt himself earn a small win at that. He was growing a backbone. "Thank you father."

“However! You cannot force her to love you back. Surely you know this. If you don’t get married by the age of 25, as per our clan tradition I’ll have you set up with another woman.”

Noritoshi inwardly sighed, resigned to his fate.

◇◇◇

Needless to say, you trained like a demon as the eve of Christmas quickly approached. Nobody dared come 10 feet near you as you perfected your Blizzard and Tornado techniques. It was normal to hear the crack of a sonic boom and see flashes of lightning around you.

You were hesitant to use your cursed technique reversal. You barely use flames and Inferno in general, but it can't be helped. But now you hold a pack of matches in your hand.

You lit a match and manipulated the flames. It danced dangerously around your fingers before you moved it from one hand to the other.

You were doing well. Spending a lot of time here on campus helped you to control your emotions and not let anger fuel your cursed energy like you did when you were younger. Those were such bad habits.

A wheel of flame circled in front of you. Very clean and stable. All of the sudden, a strong whirl of wind and empty space extinguished the flames like a vacuum … Only one other person in Japan is capable of doing that other than you.

You turned your head to the side and saw an incredibly tall man with snow white hair and a pair of sunglasses approached you. His bright baby blue eyes gently twinkling and peeking over the rims of his shades.

“Satoru nii, it’s been a while. Why visit me now?” You tiredly asked. He came up just a few inches away from you, staring down at you.

“I got a call from Hiroki. I’m here to help you with your special cursed techniques. It’s time, you’ve stopped holding yourself back Neko-chan.” He leered down with his trademark grin.

◇◇◇

You spend the entire afternoon getting pushed around by Satoru. This man was crazy strong. He kicked you against a tree. “OOF” you heaved.

"You avoid using Inferno. Is it because of your childhood trauma? I'm not shaming you but it's something you need to overcome."

You frowned at his words.

"You only have today to train with me y/n! Aren’t you honored I went out of my way from Tokyo to Kyoto?”

"Like hell I am."

“You’re not using the full extent of your cursed techniques. That power is your one true ally in this world. Trust it a bit more. Apart from your soulmate anyways, but I can see you and Noritoshi aren't exactly swell right now." Your eye twitched at that statement.

Satoru eyed the broken strands of red ropes that floated around you. Not a good sign. It was reaching out to the distance. Maybe to where Noritoshi is huh, Satoru wondered. Until he spotted one thin string, still very much intact and alive. He grinned.

‘This prick and his fucking special eye abilities’, you grumbled. He hit your back hard, “What bad language you have. Imma straighten you up today kitteeeen~”

He pranced around you and squatted to lean down to your level.

"But seriously, you say you want to get strong but you fear your own power kitten. Don't do that." Satoru pointed straight at your eyes. “Remove the fear of hurting the people around you. Because you’re literally fighting to protect the ones you love, focus instead on harnessing your cursed energy to fight. Your messed up emotions could cost you a fight, even your life. Doesn’t matter if you’re a special grade like me. At this rate you won’t catch up to me.”

You slumped to the ground in defeat.

“To be honest, I feel like my growth has stunted. I don’t know if it’s the lack of powerful opponents I’ve had lately.”

He sighed out so loudly and obnoxiously that your anger flared up at him. “Thaaat’s what I kept telling you. You shoulda come to Tokyo Jujutsu instead of here! 100% I would enjoy teaching you and I mean it. I could teach you ya know, and Yuuta is there as well. Another Special Grade, although his circumstances are quite unique and with the way he is right now, you have a better chance at beating him one-on-one since he’s a newbie to this world. And yet you kept saying you wanted to be here for your family.” He shook his head.

You felt as though your head cleared up all of a sudden. “Because I was here…. I was meant to be here. Satoru. I know it deep in my soul. Because I met Noritoshi and…. “ Your heart throbbed so loudly you heard it in your ears. A deep pain stabbed into you.

Ah right. You said you were over him. You broke up with him weeks ago.

“And? You’re not together anymore. Figure out your heart and I could let you reconsider transferring to Tokyo Jujutsu High you know?” He said with a frown.

Why does the idea of leaving Noritoshi behind feeling like you were carving your heart out? He isn’t anything to you anymore and yet…

No. Enough of this. You’re here to train and fight that curse that killed Sora. Your emotions were all over the place. Satoru came up to you and wiped your tears off your face.

“What are you doing to yourself y/n? Don’t lie to yourself. I thought you wanted to live life as honestly as possible.” Even Satoru looked concerned and troubled over your state.

You gulped. “Yeah you’re right. I told myself I wanted to get stronger and protect the ones I love. Now I’m just running away. Noritoshi at least has been trying to reach out to me, but I shut him down.” Your heart is hurting.

Satoru stared at you and the cursed energy that was rapidly pulsing around you. Then grinned. “Then... Fight me one-on-one right here right now. Let’s make sure to keep the damages to a minimum and take care of the buildings. All the other students are still here on campus. Sky's the limit since both of us can move well in mid-air. I want to see you control your emotions and fight me properly. I’ll hold back.” He said.

You took a deep breath and looked back up. “Challenge accepted.”

You’ve envisioned this countless times. You wanted to see how you could match-up against Satoru and all his years of experience. You weren’t expecting to win, but you were not going down without a fight. Your cursed technique is actually a good matchup for his.

You can manipulate molecules. Though you suspect his control is on an atomic level, and thus could overpower yours due to his finesse and 6 eyes. But you could at the very least try.

Satoru, on the other hand, already knew of your potential. 'She is the only one I know who can actually touch and surpass me, given that she can control gravity and condense molecules. It will come down to timing and refining techniques.'

“Give me 5 minutes to suit up.” You asked. He agreed. You flew to your room and eyed the katana of your father. He actually planned to give it to Sora when she turns 16. But due to her death, he gave it to you instead on your 16th.

The name was Kintsugi, because it was made of two halves before being welded together in the centre with high grade steel. The center has a core of a fine diamond dust that’s infused with cursed energy. It’s a grade 1 special tool that multiplies the cursed energy you put into it by 10.

“Don’t break it. Don’t break it…. But It’s Satoru I’m going against. It will break.” And so you put it back and instead reached for your best twin blades and metallic whip. You coiled it around your wrist like a bangle, before flying back to Satoru.

“Done preparing, kitten?” He had removed his sunglasses and his blue eyes were out wide open as they assessed your cursed technique.

“Yep!” You yelled. “Ah Toru, shouldn’t we inform the elders or Utahime sensei that we-”

He didn’t give you time to speak as he appeared in front of you all of the sudden. Rushing with a right hook. You quickly dodged. He kept his word and is going easy on you at least.

You exchanged a few blows with him, both his limitless and your spacial barrier active so technically, no hits were landed.

Until you warped the space and forced the molecules around them to retract, making you actually reach and hit him.

He must have expected the solid punch, because in return, he kicked you as he warped off your spacial barrier. You eyed him as you regrouped. It’s anyone’s game huh.

“You’re still holding back! Are you going to be like this in a real battle? Are you okay with staying weak? Or do you have to wait for someone special to die before you ignite?!”

Oh no he didn’t. Your emotions raged, and you tried to calm them down. But all you saw was blood red. You never felt this angry at Satoru before. Before you knew it, you had activated inferno, making the entire surrounding area, which Satoru was in, combust and burn up in flames.

You lit up a match and pulled the flames on the ground and trees towards your smaller flame and held a massive ball of fire. Satoru was gone, it was only soot on the ground. You looked up to see him hurtling down at you.

You barely dodged, before wrapping the flames around you as you used it to strike at him repeatedly. You both rose up higher and higher into the air.

“Special art: Goldenrod,” you shot a bolt of lightning at Satoru only for him to dodge it. “Don’t just shoot it from your hands! Electricity is a current! You can make it run through your entire body!” He yelled as you both spiraled and fought over the campus.

He had the energy to teach you while you were fighting. You scoffed, but listened carefully, generating electricity in your hands before letting it wrap around you.

You were both dodging and striking at each other with such power. The trees swayed violently as winds and rubble were thrown about.

“What on earth…” Noritoshi and the other students stared at the flashes of fire, lightning, and wind above the campus.

The sky darkened. Good. If you had water, that was another asset.

He must have realized this as he immediately activated his Cursed Technique: Reversal. “Red.” You were forced back, plummeting to the ground. You swiftly turned and saw Miwa and Mai staring at you with horror.

You pulled yourself up back into the sky, still filled with fire and lightning, narrowly missing the building. You twisted your fingers to the side. The flames turned into the shape of the Dragon and you whipped back to hit Satoru from the front while your dragon of flame hit him from behind.

He danced around your attacks, teleporting from one area to the next to dodge them.

He then easily extinguished your flames with a flick of his wrist, but your lightning stayed. He can’t extinguish it, because it was coursing through your body, constantly moving.

You both stood, hundreds of feet high above the Kyoto Campus in midair. Lightning flashed above and winds howled.

You’ve never been pushed this hard your entire life. Not with Hiroki. Not with Todo. But Satoru was really on another level of strong. Unbreakable like a monster. He didn’t feel human anymore.

You tried for a Mach Speed hit, which you’ve never tried on anyone else; it would kill them on impact. “Mach 3.5” There was a loud BANG!

Going at Mach Speed has its limits of course. You can afford to do Mach 1, 5 times a day. Mach 2, 3 times, and Mach 4 only once.

A huge cone of smoke formed behind you as you launched yourself at Satoru. He was still able to evade you, but you pointed one hand to him, quickly following up on another attack.

“Fubuki.” Your blizzard technique was a combination of Niflheim and Tatsumaki. Cold air whipped around you and you thrust it towards Satoru. A mini tornado has formed around you and it pushed and pulled widely. But you were in the eye of the storm.

Satoru dodged your winds, but couldn’t escape them all, wincing as some small ice shards cut into his skin. He attracted debris and rocks towards you. One caught on your shoulder, making you yell in pain, but the rest you were able to guard against with your winds.

He immediately closed in on you to prevent you from doing another full blast and punched with ‘Red’. You countered with a roundhouse kick supercharged with your blizzard and lightning, neutralising his infinity jujutsu with a bit of mixed gravity control.

A huge gust of whirlwind was emitted from the impact, forcing everyone on campus down to the ground.

“GOJO! TSUCHIMIKADO! STOP THIS!” Utahime was screaming at the top of her lungs, still heard over the roar of thunderclap.

You both looked at each other and knew it had to end soon. Rain was starting to fall.

He threw his back and laughed out loud. “I hadn’t had this much fun in ages. You’ve grown really strong. Stop me if you can.” And flew away from the buildings and into the surrounding forest. You whipped your tornado around you and quickly followed him.

All the other students that had been watching you go at it followed. Utahime did as well. They stood from a distance as both of you exchanged more hits.

You lit another match and let arrows made of flames rain on Satoru, weakening his limitless barrier as much as you could. Only one arrow slightly singed his sleeve. Damn he was good.

Satoru attracted your body with “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.” You felt like your insides were tearing as you tried to stop his force. But his limitless technique easily overpowered yours. You let go and rushed towards him with both your swords out.

He easily sidestepped and kicked them out of your grasp. The hit was so heavy, even though it hit your swords, you felt the force reverberate throughout your body.

Satoru grabbed your neck from behind, and for the very first time since you were awarded the Special Grade Jujutsushi status, you were forced down onto the ground.

You used your cursed technique to soften the blow as much as possible, but Satoru was relentless as he slammed you head-first down onto the grass.

Everyone winced as you hit the ground hard. "He's not human." Mai said. Everyone agreed, not used to seeing you at the mercy of another party like this. They were reminded of who exactly was the strongest sorcerer alive.

In order to win against Satoru, your goal was to touch him and move past his limitless barrier. Even if it’s just for a moment. You couldn’t use Niflheim or Inferno from afar. He would remain unaffected as he guards and stops the change in movement of molecules around him.

But now his hand was around your neck. Your twin blades suddenly rush to close in around his neck in an x position to gather his attention, while you use your technique to warp the space around his hand to weaken limitless and hold onto him.

You lashed out with your metallic whip, letting your cursed technique run through it. It worked and scratched his cheek a bit.

"Enhanced gravity: Output 30%", the ground cracked underneath the both of you as a massive weight pressed down. And then you shocked both Satoru and yourself with the lightning coursing through you. Screaming at the pain in the process.

He gritted his teeth as volts shocked his bones.

Utahime and the others stared at both of you. "What a huge amount of cursed energy." Todo said in awe. "Non-standard Jujutsu users are insane."

Satoru still had the strength to hit your lower back which caused you to heave out and stop Goldenrod from activating. Both of your clothes were literally toasted. “Haha. You’re a scary one y/n.”

That’s all you remembered before you passed out; you were out of cursed energy.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi rushed over to take you in his arms. Pulling your unconscious body close to his, he gave you a once-over. You had just fainted from exhaustion, there were no serious injuries. Good.

"Noritoshi," Satoru called.

"Yes, Gojo San?"

"Take care of her for me please."

He straightened up, "Of course. There’s no need to ask that from me." He then carried you to the infirmary, holding you gently in his arms.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

Author's Notes: Me writing this entire scene: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!!! (x100)

Y/n was able to fight on par with Satoru, because he chose to limit his cursed energy output and match his skills to her level. A psychokinesis cursed technique would be a natural enemy for limitless since you can condense and expand space between molecules. But you still lack experience in battle. And if we were going to talk about Domains, Satoru would dominate the battle.

#kamo noritoshi x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk imagines #gojo satoru #jjk x y/n #jjk x o/c #jjk fluff #noritoshi angst #kamo noritoshi x you #kamo noritoshi x y/n #kamo noritoshi #jjk x poc!reader #noritoshi x fem!reader #jjk kamo #noritoshi x you #noritoshi headcanons #jjk noritoshi

[impaladolan]

Capture - Grayson Dolan [2/-]

summary: after an unsuccessful attempt to escape, Y/N is in for more than she bargained..

warnings: lil bit of smut, swearing, and bdsm undertones

a/n: this is part TWO of this little series! check out part one before reading this!

Your senses slowly began to settle back into you, and you finally realized just what kind of mess you were in..

Right after his bold exit, your exhaustion caught up to you and your eyes became as heavy a dumbbells. But when you awoke for the second time that evening, the situation truly hit you right in the noggin.

You were in a foreign place, that you were incredibly scared to even attempt an escape out of. The foggy memory of the stunning man that had entered the room, was becoming a false reality. Had you dreamt of him? Was he just a twisted piece of your imagination?

Surely not.

It seemed so utterly real that the nameless man had to be an actual human. And even that thought scared the absolute shit out of you. If he were to barge right through the same door, you wouldn't know how to even address him, let alone look at him. So you stayed hidden beneath the large comforter, softly shaking with fear as your eyes began to water. You were starting to miss things you never thought you could miss. Like the pumpkin-apple candle that you'd light from time to time, or your piano you love to play, to wake you up in the mornings and settle you down in the evenings. Hell, you were even beginning to miss your refrigerator that held all your favorite foods and drinks, and your spacious bathroom that you regularly took a soaking bubble bath in.

Oh god, a bathroom. Just at the mere thought, your bladder revolted and signaled it's everlasting need to be freed. But you were too scared. Though, you couldn't last much longer without accidentally pissing yourself, but that'd just make this dreadful day even worse. So with your fears in mind and the shaking of your body reminding you, you pushed back the covers and lifted yourself from the cushiony mattress, your toes curling at the frigid touch of the marble floors. You oddly looked left and right, in search of what could possibly be a hidden camera or worse— a person, but came short with nothing of the sort. You began your tip-toeing steps towards an open door that unmistakably led to the sacred toilet you were literally yearning for, and ever so softly shut the door, for at least a little privacy. It was an expensive looking bathroom with even more expensive looking appliances.

But without further examining you rush to the porcelain bowl and pull down your undergarment, quickly seating yourself and letting all the filtered tension go. A relieved sigh escaped your lips, but your asscheeks sure did feel sore.

Maybe it wasn't a dream..

You let your thoughts roam as you emptied your bladder and tore a piece of toilet paper from its roll and wiped, finishing with the click of the flushing button and directing yourself towards the sink. The women in the mirror caught your eye, though she looked oddly untouched. You thought you'd at least have a bruise or two fluttered across your arms or your face, but it appeared as though you were as good as new and unbothered. Whoever had kidnapped you didn't fully intend harm, but rather some other premeditated plan that you weren't truly sure of.

Though you felt somewhat at ease, your frightened thoughts lingered and you washed your hands quickly and tip-toed back to your aclaimed warm bed that you slightly missed the absence of. You could've gone for round three of sleeping that day, but yet again, to your dismay, the familiar sound of a door opening and closing kept your eyes open, and an unfamiliar scent glided into your nostrils and made your stomach growl profusely.

"Hungry, darling?" The same voice from your dreams questioned the air around you and just as before, you couldn't refrain from laying your eyes on him. He was undoubtably real, except this time he was fully clothed in a tucked white dress shirt and pants, a belt tightly wrapped around his waist. He was even dreamier than before with his hair all done up and his fingers clad with shiny rings that hadn't caught your eyes before. You drew your attention away and slowly nodded, bringing the large blanket up to shield yourself from his eyes. He set the platter down on the nightstand with what looked to be a sweet smile and grabbed a little portable table to set just above your thighs. He neatly settled the prepared food onto it and seated himself at the end of the bed, motioning his hand for you to begin.

You were hesitant to eat anything he could've made at first, but you were more scared of him becoming mad, so you gladly picked up your spoon and began to chew on the nice noodle soup, it's brothy flavor feeling nice on your throat. You almost whimpered at the taste when you finished your very first bite, your eyelids shutting and your head titled back in sensation. "Good?" His deep, softened voice brought you back to reality and your head was nodding before you could detest anything of it. "For how mouthy you were this morning, you sure haven't said much at all." His words struck true as you thought back to the prior events, his seething words and your snooty comments that arises the anger in him.

"Well, I'm sorry to inform you, but you had caught me in a moment of weakness and I will forever regret it. I was taken against my own free will, without the ability to even fight for my freedom, and you think it's fair to treat me like a whore who "deserves to be punished" and was in quite a drowsy state of mind. You're a sick bastard whether you've been told that or not." You seemingly growled at him, but he didn't seem to be angered, let alone offended. With all the stillness and subtleness in the world, he answered;

"Yes, it may have been a moment of weakness, Ms.

Y/L/N, but when was the last time that that pretty pussy of yours was touched, hm? How long has it been since you've came by someone else's hand, or cock perhaps? Darling, I may be a stranger to you, but you're no stranger to me." And with that, he left you stunned (and regrettably horny), all alone in the same room you've been trapped in for who knows how long? Ugh, it was so angering the way he could flip what you say into something far from being similar to anything you were trying to argue.

But he was right..

Yes, it's been a rough couple years in the dating life for you. Though, it never had to do with "supply of men" because here and there, you'd get a little flustered by a handsome man wondering if you'd like to get coffee sometime. But you'd always sweetly decline and carry on with your day. You were a focused, driven person that had their mind set on nothing else but your arising business endeavors. You simply didn't want to begin a relationship because you weren't fully ready to give so much attention to one thing while you were too focused on another.

And being honest, men are very clingy. And mysterious..

His final little statement about "You're no stranger to me" really confused you. Had you met him before? Was he from your hometown? It was truly a mystery. Who's to say he wasn't some sort of stalker whose been following you for the past five years? But that sounds absurd. Why would such a handsome, dreamy, sexy— a'hem, man want to have anything to do with you? Whatever it is, you weren't exactly mad about it. Because just like earlier, when you were hazy and half asleep, you felt the same tingling and flutters right down to your core. He was so smooth with his words, it's hard not to fall to your knees and become his beckon call. Fuck, anytime you laid eyes on him, your body begins to writhe with shudders, creating that pooling sensation where your core throbbed the worst. A large part of you couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow, throw some sly comments at him or even try escaping, anything to catch his attention.

So before drifting asleep, your mind raced with loose plans and tactics for tomorrow, when you’d awake in the same room for presumably the third or fourth time.

-

Go time.

Initially, you had planned to sneak out only to anger him, but now that you were thinking about it, why not at least try to escape the clutches of the room and run away, hopefully home if you could.

You were missing it so much already, though you’ve only been gone for approximately thirty-two hours (maybe). But you were becoming bored with the view of absolutely nothing except gray walls and the one large painting on the wall. It looked like a countryside, a barn with a red roof-top and white siding while trees decorated the entire area around it. It was an odd picture to be put in this room, it didn’t really match the minimalist vibe the entire rest of the proximity put off. But anyway, it felt weird getting out of bed and twisting the handle on the door, and to your satisfaction, it opened with a faint click and you were finally able to be freed of this room.

The even more so frigid air smacked you straight between the eyes the moment you fully opened the door, it made your eyes water slightly. Taking the very first step out of the room, you notice that the walls in the long hallway are a powder color, which brought a weird grin to your face.

Those gray walls just weren’t doing the trick.

You slowly begin to tip-toe to the right of the entryway, looking in every direction possible. You didn’t really know if he lives alone or with others, but you were banking on the possibilities that there were others in the nice, freezing home.

Why the fuck does he keep it so cold?

You continued your slow, padding steps until you came across another door-less room; the kitchen. Thankfully there was no one in the huge kitchen, and your stomach jolted to the smell of just another soup, you just couldn’t recognize it. You almost scavengered for a spoon, but the faint sound of shallow footsteps corrupted your hearing and you b-lined straight to a cabinet, that happened to be a pantry once you were enclosed inside. Before entering, the pairs of footsteps let out a few hoarse chuckles and cackles, ultimately placing them as men. From what you could see in the tiny, barely visible crack, you could for sure make out who was standing directly left to the cabinet you were stuck in; the panty-dropping hottie from earlier.

You were just praying to God that he wouldn’t find you.

You took every breath as carefully and slowly as possible, not moving a muscle as the two men conversed, though it was muffled and incomprehensible. After what seemed like hours, you swore you heard a few goodbyes and a loud door shut. You wanted to sprint out of the damn tight-knit cabinet and run for your dear life, but you slowly opened the door and breathed in a large breath once you were finally free of your slight claustrophobic fears.

“Better run, sweetheart.” His deep, distasteful voice scared the wits out of you, which made your instincts ignite the moment he took a step closer to you. Before you knew it, your feet were pacing back and forth in long strides as your arms pumped up and down, though your blanked mind came to a loss on the directions out of the house.

This was it.

There was no way you’d make it out of here. He was obviously much faster and actually knew the layout of his own house, while you, on the other hand, had no damn clue where the front door is. So your heart sank deep in your chest when you felt his warm, muscular arms wrap around the entirety of your waist before you hand could even grasp an unknown handle that you were violently reaching for.

“Think you’re fucking smart, princess?” He whispers in your ear, carrying you away, presumably to your prior settings while you helplessly let him. You didn’t even thrash against him, or even attempt a kick to his groin.

You just.. let him.

“Fuckin’ lucky I don’t tie you up and spank your ass until it’s numb again.” He murmurs to himself, dropping you off on the same bed you’ve been sleeping and awakening in whilst he shuts and locks the door too. Just his little comment to himself made your mouth water and your pussy clench. It was hard enough being in such a close proximity with him.

Once testing the door to see if it was locked properly, he turned back to look at you with a cold, lustful stare that had you aching all over yet again. For someone that you don’t even know their formal name, you sure did have the ‘hots’ for him. In a flash, his shirt was off and his pants were unbuckled, the heat arising in your cheeks as he strode over to you in his nakedness. “Knees. Now.” He points to the floor below him, watching with demanding eyes. You, of course, reacted before thinking. You were on your knees in seconds and had your hands wrapped around his increasingly large girth. You really hadn’t looked at it before, you were honestly terrified to. But now that it was right in front of you and your fist was slowly pumping it, you craved it.

“Since you haven’t been very nice to Daddy, you’re gonna have to give him a little sweet treat..” He caressed the top of your head, looking down upon the sight of you stroking him made his cock jump slightly. With your own eyes in him, you ran your tongue along the protruding, red vein of his cock, suctioning off his tip like it was a straw. He threw his head back with a pleasured sigh as your warm and thick muscle made his erection grow. With a few internal encouragements in your head, you let your mouth intake more, slowly edging its way to his public bone. What you hardly couldn’t fit, you let your fingers glide over. His sharp intakes of breaths and groans had your own self a mess, and you almost wanted to creep your own two ‘flimsy’ fingers down there and relieve it.

You let your hands travel to his constricting balls, fondling them with the slightest of touches. He squinted his eyes and held himself back from coming right then, but it was too late. For his thick, hot ribbons of cum released all the way down your throat and to your chin.

He didn’t last long..

It unusually tasted sweet, compared to others who seemed to be sour and gummy. Though he was done and physically drained, you continued slow motions, only quickening them by the second. Overstimulating has and will always be one of your favorite kinks. To see someone shaking and aching from their own sensitivity made you all the more horny and sexually-frustrated. But the overstrung man put an end to the real quick, pulling you to your feet and shoving you back onto the cushiony bed where your comfy gown rose and his intense stare darkened.

“Don’t you make one fucking sound..”

(masterlist)

#dolan twins #dolan twins smut #dt #grayson dolan #dtfan10m #read #grayson #grayson bailey dolan #grayson smut #grayson dolan smut #smut #grayson dolan fanfic #ily #dolan twin fandom #love u #dick grayson #stalker #kidnapping #capture #grayson x reader #graysonbailey #graysondolan #graysonbaileydolan

[medea10]

Medea’s Worst Year of All-Time Anime/Game Superlative

Nobody saw this year coming…except for maybe Barbara Walters! Who could have predicted that this year would bless us with Australia burning, the entire west coast of the U.S. set on fire, stupid people setting fires because they wanted to reveal a baby’s gender, murder hornets, Ruth Bader Ginsburg dying, an almost war with Iran, serial killer mascots arrested, policemen killing unarmed black folks for having a counterfit $20, policemen killing unarmed black folks for breaking up a fight, policemen killing black folks for holding sandwiches, policemen killing unarmed black folks for fucking sleeping, a wide variety of “Karens” coming out of the woodworks, the end of Bojack, the end of Steven Universe, the end of Empire, and a pandemic so huge it’s killed the economy, canceled fun, and given the U.S. president the dumb-fuck idea of injecting bleach to kill the virus!?

SERIOUSLY, WHO COULD HAVE PREDICTED ALL OF THIS WAS GOING TO FALL IN OUR LAPS LIKE HOT COFFEE ON THE CROTCH?!

At least there was anime this year.

…

At least there was SOME anime this year.

…

Biden won the election and Vickeblanca came out with Black Catcher this year.

Hey internet, it’s Medea here to give you her trashy opinion on this years anime and games that she’s watched or played. Because for some reason, my loser-ass loves to do out-dated as fuck memes! I shouldn’t complain, this shit brings a lot of attention to my page every year when I do this. Yes, 2020 was a complete dumpster fire so large that Domestic Girlfriend is crying foul. Many of us had to go on lockdown and ended up binge-watching the entire 957+ episodes of One Piece. I did no such thing. I am one of those “essential workers” so I didn’t hunker down for 9 months straight. But when I was home, I was watching anime. Actually, I would have done that even without the pandemic. I’m an introvert and find the human race to be deplorable.

You all know how this goes. I go over the best this year had to offer me. I had to search really hard to find the good in this year, especially in the anime world. Many things had to be put on hiatus or were delayed to a later date. Just a reminder, I don’t discriminate in what year the anime or game came out. If something came out in the happier times of 2007, that anime or game counts! Let’s get at it!

First Fandom of 2020: Interspecies Reviewers

Did anyone expect a fan-favorite of 2020 was going to be a hentai? Did anyone have on their batshit 2020 bingo card that a hentai was going to grab everybody’s attention? At the beginning of the year, my mind was set on the Railgun sequel and Eizoken. It wasn’t until licensors, streaming sites, and TV stations in Japan dropped this series that I started to pay attention. And got immediately hooked! It’s about three men going to different brothels and reviewing their time with the ladies. And these ladies are of different species! So with every bang comes possible enlightenment, new kinks, or a night of having your dick sucked off more than humanly possible. This anime blew away all of my skepticism and first impressions right out the window. Maybe it’s because I’m a degenerate and am often curious about sexual content, but this was a guilty pleasure of mine this year.

Favorite Main Character of 2020: Moroha from Yashahime

I know the majority of this story is going to revolve around Towa and Setsuna, but can we please focus a little more energy on the spunky, quarter-demon girl?! I know they’re pitting Moroha as the comic relief, but I’m hopeful that she’s going to surprise us one day. We fans of InuYasha would spend the past decade and some change wondering what InuYasha and Kagome’s daughter would be like. This year, we got our answer with Moroha. She’s got this wild side to her, probably due to the fact that she’s spent her entire life on her own. And while she’s silly at times, she can get down to business in a pinch. She has her father’s sense of smell. She has a sword. She’s able to shoot sacred arrows much like her mother. And to top it all off, she has this special rouge that if she puts it on, she’s able to unleash that ¼ demon power inside her and become Beniyasha! Yeah, I know the power only lasts a minute, she’s only 14, give her a break! I will gladly go through another week scratching my head at the confusion this story gives me if I get to see one more second of Moroha and her crazy antics or her bad-ass slaying.

Favorite Villain of 2020: The Devil Believers from Black Clover

This was one hell of a year for Black Clover. It would have been an easy choice to pick the devil and possible super devil that appeared during the elf fight. But I’d like to give a nod to the filler arc villains. And you can’t blame this group for wanting the power of the devil. They’re literally the bottom-rung of the Clover Kingdom and ones with little to no power or mana. So I can agree with why they would want the power of the devil. For one thing, they’d have more power. And for another thing, they’d be able to exact revenge on those who have wronged them. On some occasions I agree with exacting revenge and when it comes to the nobles and some characters in Black Clover, some folks do deserve death. I mean, have you met the king of the Clover Kingdom? Plus, this town and many other poorer towns get looked over by the kingdom. Peasant uprise! Anyways, I thought these people were really crafty in their crimes. I mean, they were able to knock Asta out on his ass with specially made poisons. I was actually hooked to this story of Black Clover (despite it being a filler arc). I know we’ll never see them again as they have been exiled, but it did have me semi-rooting for them.

Favorite Video Game Character of 2020: Honey from Pokemon – Sword & Shield (Expansion Pass)

Sorry Raymond from Animal Crossing!

Honey is the saucy wife of Mustard…I did not expect that to come out the way it did, but here we are! She has one hell of a team you can fight once a day. She looks out for her husband, the dojo, and the students of the dojo like they were her own children by providing food, drinks, and others. However that does come at a price as you do have to give up a sizable chunk of your watts that you collect in raid dens. I’m sure a bunch of MILF chasers were more than happy enough to give her all their hard-earned watts just so they can have their one-on-one moment on the beach with Honey.

What won me over was when that one guy from a rival dojo bad-mouthed her husband’s dojo and she…I think she kicked this guy’s ass herself. I don’t think she used any of her pokemon. Game Freak won’t show it, but we all know she kicked this guy’s ass to a point where he’s begging for mercy.

Honey, for the win!

Favorite Game of 2020: Animal Crossing New Horizons

This game was just Zen for me. I know the release of this game came with some controversy like Gamestop saying it’s an essential business and will remain open for people to get their copies of the game. Hell, I was one of those assholes in line waiting to get a copy on March 20th. Did I predict that a pandemic was going to rage out of control when I got a prepay copy of this for Christmas 2019? NO! I only predict political things, not deadly pandemics! The good news, we social distanced, didn’t catch the covid and got the game.

Anyways, this game has been a non-stop calming and fun ride. I can even forgive their botch-up of Bunny Day. They even have events for holidays I never thought they would ever touch. I mean, does anybody know when Museum Day is? Probably not until Animal Crossing had an event for it! I’ve been able to let my freak-flag fly with designing my island. And this goes way beyond New Leaf for the 3DS. I can make a sign post with the words “Fuck Trump” on it and post it in my yard. I can dig up trees and plant them elsewhere. I can poop in a toilet. I can craft furniture and put my own design on it. My furniture can have Tracey Sketchit’s beautiful mug on it. I can sit on Tracey Sketchit’s face. I am a sick fuck and I don’t care. I can give Raymond and Bob maid outfits. Magical time in my game! My hopes for next year…I don’t know, get the Festivale furniture, get Papi and Olivia to join my island, maybe visit Danny Trejo’s island, who knows, sky’s da limit!

Favorite Het Couple of 2020: Nasa and Tsukasa Yuzaki from Tonikawa

This is one of the most unorthodox marriages I’ve ever seen. But in this 90 Day Fiance world we’re living in, I shouldn’t pass judgement on these two getting married in episode one and not knowing much about each other. Nasa meets Tsukasa as he was about to be plowed by a truck. Tsukasa saves his life. Nasa says she’s beautiful. Tsukasa says she’ll be his girlfriend if they get married. He agrees. She disappears. Four years later, Tsukasa appears in front of Nasa’s front door with a marriage registration form. Congratulations buddy, you’ve got yourself a waifu! In some way, this felt like watching Yamato and Takeo from My Love Story. I was fascinated with them progressing through their relationship. The only difference is that Yamato and Takeo took the old-fashioned route. This couple did everything ass-backwards in terms of having a relationship. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Nasa and Tsukasa’s relationship during each episode. I find them cute.

Favorite Yuri Couple of 2020: Karin Asaka x Emma Verde from Love Live Nijigasaki High School Idol Club

AAAAAAAAAH! I’M IN IDOL HELL AGAIN! Yeah, no kidding! I came this close to putting Miu x Nicole from that abomination 22/7. But thank God for Love Live! There’s no telling if any of the girls from the Love Live franchise are confirmed to be lesbians. But fuck it, all of them attend all-girl schools, no males exist anywhere, and Sunshine gave us Kanan x Mari! Yeah, you know Kanan and Mari is canon as fuck, don’t at me. So naturally, I found more third-years to ship in the new Love Live series. Now I know I should have put up Ai x Rina or Ayumu x Yuu. Especially the latter due to recent events! But Emma x Karin is my OTP.

Now Emma is an exchange student from Switzerland and in coming to Nijigasaki, she first meets Karin and they became instant friends. When Emma said she wants to become an idol, Karin helped her quite a bit. Even though Karin had no interest in being an idol as her modeling career is starting up, Karin would occasionally help Emma out. And surprise, surprise, Karin ends up fascinated with the idol world and Emma helps her come to the light to be herself there. Okay, I’m totally reading this in some fragmented way, but I’m currently playing Love Live School Idol Festival All Stars and the app game has a lot more stuff involving stuff the anime has yet to talk about. Confirmed or not, Karin x Emma for the win!

Favorite Yaoi Couple of 2020: Eiji Okumura x Ash Lynx from Banana Fish

It took me a while to get here, but I finally made it to 2018’s overlooked gem. Forgive me for not being fully caught up, but from what I’m watching at the moment, I’m sticking to my guns and supporting the hell out of this. I mean, I could have mentioned The Titan’s Bride here…but fuck no, I ain’t goin’ down that mess! Ash has gone through a lot, I mean a helluva lot in his past. His cute boy looks have made him a target on the streets of New York, with mafia dons, and with prison inmates. But dude can kill if you mess with him. Then you have Eiji, who is just a literal example of a “pure cinnamon roll (until episode 8)”. These two are as opposite as you can possibly get. Ash is from New York and Eiji is from Japan. Ash likes hot dogs with everything on it. Eiji likes grilled fish and natto. Ash spent the majority of his life killing on the streets. Eiji was a track superstar. You get my meaning. But when we got these two together it’s quite adorable. Ash is really able to change when he’s around Eiji. Ash isn’t some heartless killer on the street about to kill a thug with prosthetic fingers. When he’s with Eiji, he’s a joker that can easily get scared of pumpkins. And even in later episodes, you got these two acting like a husband and wife.

Fandom That You Didn’t Expect to Get Into: Les Miserables – A Girl Named Cosette

Let me explain a little something. Les Mis! I have never seen the play, watched the movie, or read the novel prior to picking up this anime. Not a single one of those! And that’s a bit of a head-scratcher when you realize I was a bit of a musical theater nut in my teenage years. But one thing I do like is when Japan does an anime based on plays or historical events (like Romeo x Juliet or Rose of Versailles). The second I popped in Les Miserables the anime, I wanted to binge watch the whole 52 episode series. It is by no means a perfect adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel. Several key players end up surviving all the way up to the end of the story! But because this was my very first viewing of anything Les Mis, I took to the story of Cosette and was eager to see what was going to happen next in her tale. Unlike the movies and play, Cosette was the main focus of the story besides Jean Valjean and Javert. And thanks to watching the unfortunate stories of Cosette, Jean Valjean, the Thenadiers, Javert, Marius, and the rest, I thought it was time to watch the OTHER adaptations to Les Mis.

…

Russell Crowe sucks.

Fandom That Made An Unexpected Comeback: Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni

Higurashi or When They Cry is one of my favorite fandoms of all time! So naturally when we heard that it was making a comeback, I was excited. It was also very odd that Higurashi was given this sequel or reboot. Ahem! There’s another franchise that needs a face-lift. Umineko still deserves a better treatment. Plus, now that this series was out of the faulty hands of Studio Deen, Higurashi will get the special care it deserves. Believe it or not, it wasn’t just the anime that made a comeback for me, but the manga as well. Since 2009, I’ve read several volumes (out of order) and would every now and then come back to read the story. Back to the anime, this reboot or sequel…you know what, I’m gonna call it a “rebooqual”! This rebooqual sucked me back to the town of Hinamizawa and all the murders. Every week, I find myself comparing the current episode to one from the 2006 version. But then the fourth episode of each arc seems to catch me off guard.

Where are they going with this story and these twist endings to our favorite arcs? I did not expect Rena to turn a simple attempted murder into the end of School Days! I didn’t expect Rika to die in the most disgusting fashion they could think of. Could someone kill Teppei fucking Hojo? I will pay ¥5000 for someone to do that job. So yeah, because I know how much of this plays out and who does what, I’m usually watching and reading while making wise-ass remarks. But I still have fun with it.

Fandom That Inspired the Most Crack: Konosuba

In a year where I caught up with the popular Isekais like Shield Hero and Re:Zero, I found the wacky misadventures of Kazuma Satou to be amusing as all get-out. From the first 5 minutes, I found myself laughing at Kazuma’s misfortune. Seriously, how the fuck do you mistake a tractor for a car, have a heart attack, piss yourself, and fucking die in the first couple minutes to the series? You can only get away with this shit in gag animes! But it’s not just Kazuma’s dumbass, there’s a mage who only does explosions, but loses all her energy after one blow-up. Then there’s a busty, blonde who gets turned on by getting hurt and can’t strike anything with her sword. Anime’s biggest masochist or Cheryl Tunt incarnate, I haven’t decided which one to believe! Then you have this loud, crazy goddess chick named Aqua. She’s also useless about 86% of the time! Watching their unfortunate missions is all the crack that I need to get through this year. Seriously, Darkness is just all kinds of fucked up, but we love her.

Last Fandom of 2020: Yashahime

That’s right, the InuYasha sequel gets top spot here! Even though week after week I find myself asking more questions than when the episode started, I’m still hooked. If you’re like me, you watched and fell in love with the series InuYasha. So if they’re doing a sequel, you’re expecting to see all of your favorite characters from the prequel like InuYasha, Kagome, Miroku, Sango, Sesshomaru, Koga, Rin, and the rest. Actually, no! Quite the opposite! We’ve got Sesshomaru’s daughters, but no Sesshomaru. Rin is sleeping in a tree we think! We’ve got InuYasha and Kagome’s daughter, but they’re M.I.A. None of the girls even know a thing about their birth parents.

Now are these new characters a catch like the ones from the previous series? Some are! The three main girls, yes! Especially Moroha! I’ve already praised her name earlier in the superlative. Towa and Setsuna do take on some personality traits from their parents. Setsuna is definitely serious like Sesshomaru and Towa sometimes has a carefree yet loyal aura to her like Rin. I know I’m always skeptical when a series gives us a sequel featuring the offspring of the main characters. Especially when you’ve got some lame examples like Boruto and Eureka Seven AO (I might retract my diss on Boruto later)! As each week gives us a new episode, we’re unraveling new clues into a lot of things involving our old favorite characters, as well as the new ones. So I have high hopes for Yashahime for the time being!

#anime #interspecies reviewers #moroha #yashahime #Black Clover #honey #pokemon sword and shield #isle of armor #animal crossing new horizons #tonikawa #nasa yuzaki #tsukasa yuzaki #love live #love live nijigasaki high school idol club #emma verde #karin asaka #banana fish #ash lynx #eiji okumura #Higurashi no Naku Koro ni #konosuba #les miserables a girl named cosette

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, pt. xi

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt xi: what kind of man

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~8.2k (I’M SORRY)

Rating: M for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop.

Warnings: Gore/violence, Still Under The Influencer of drugs, uhhhh blood. There's a lot of mentions of blood and death and what have you. Elliot has a meltdown (surprise). Joseph is creepy (surprise pt. 2 electric boogaloo). People are confused about How To Feel. I don't understand how laws work and so I'm just literally out here trying my best, you know? Don't @ me.

Notes: I wanted to start off by saying THANK YOU everyone for your feedback! I was having a real hard time hitting my stride with the last chapter but all of your kind words has given me life. There's some still in these old bones yet and I really hope that you enjoy this one.

 Anyway I'm a clown and I'm sorry this chapter took so long. Joke's on you, it's always clown hour here! Thank you forever and always to @starcrier ​ for being the best proof-reader and somehow managing to make my incoherency readable?? Manageable??? You're an angel and ily! Also, @empirics ​, my writing aspiration forever, and @baeogorath ​ who makes me cry literally every time I read anything they have to say about my writing. Thank you thank you thank you!

John had never seen a person’s head blown in with a shotgun, and he wasn’t sure that he really needed to.

Ase’s blood had splattered when Jacob fired the shotgun at what he was sure could be considered point-blank range, the spray of it nearly catching them in the process. But no, it was mostly on Elliot, like she was some Carrie at her first prom, a real tried-and-true Scream Queen.

“I knew you’d find a way to fuck it up,” Jacob said, no absence of venom in his voice as he stepped away from Ase’s dead body like she was nothing—and sure, she was nothing, and John didn’t necessarily have any qualms with getting rid of her (he had blown a shell straight through her spine), but that wasn’t what was making him nauseated.

It was Elliot. Baby-blues eaten away by her pupils, blown wide with hallucinogens, drenched in blood, making a noise something close to a rabbit that thought it was going to die.

He didn’t have the energy to tell Jacob that the blow to her skull had been unnecessary, that there was no way someone could walk away from their entire stomach being blown through by a shotgun. That Jacob’s idea of “fucked up” was greatly, massively warped if he thought that Ase hadn’t been finished after shot number one. Even if he’d had the energy it wouldn’t have mattered, because the next words out of Jacob’s mouth were, “You put Faith at risk going back for her.”

The eldest Seed didn’t need to say what it was he meant; John knew. The words were “you put Faith at risk going back for her”, but what he meant was, Joseph’s going to be furious when he finds out.

“Get your pet,” Jacob bit out, “and let’s fucking move.”

John’s limbs moved of their own volition, kneeling down in front of Elliot and turning her face away from the grisly scene laid out next to her. If she recognized him, it didn’t show; she trembled, and her eyes never stayed fixed for very long, as though everything in the entire world was assaulting her senses at every second.

“Elliot,” he said, pulling her to her feet as the sound of voices rising in the distance peppered the air, “we have to move.”

Some kind of guttural sorrow welled up and out of her as he pulled her along and down the hill, her feet stumbling. Around them, the night hummed with gunfire and shouting. John was certain that he heard something like grief wracking the air at the hilltop above them, and he couldn’t bring himself to look back, afraid of what he’d see—that redheaded monster of Ase’s bent over her nearly-decapitated corpse, or worse: coming after them.

He kept one hand on Elliot’s arm and the other out in front of her case she tried to plummet headfirst down the hill—whether by chance or accident—and by the time they had reached the bottom, the strange agony sounds that had tried to burrow out of her had mostly ceased; her gaze was still glassy and dark, and there was an odd sway about her, but she looked only shell-shocked now.

Oh, John thought, absently, if that’s all.

Joey’s dark gaze darted between the two of them. He released Elliot to her without a word, his hand dropping from the blonde as Joey fussed over her. Faith swayed dreamily just a few steps away from Joey, humming a song mostly to herself; beyond her, Jacob stood, his arms crossed over his chest while he toted the shotgun in one of his hands, before he apparently got tired of waiting and grabbed Faith’s hand.

“If you want to stand around down here and chit chat, that’s fine,” he said, tugging Faith—clearly still drugged, clearly unaware of the carnage occurring around them—off to the trail that led away from the lake. “ We’re leaving.”

“Jacob—” John started. It was too late. The redhead had set for himself and for Faith a brutal and punishing pace to return them to wherever it was Joseph waited, and though he was loathe to admit it, Jacob was on the right track; pretty soon, the members of Eden’s Gate that had been sent up to wreak havoc on the Family would be dead, and he was certain that once Ase’s death was fully recognized, someone would want revenge.

“Are we going home?” Faith asked, giggling as she toddled after Jacob, barely able to keep herself upright. “That lady said John was going to come and rescue me.”

John’s chest tightened at the sound of her laughter. She was so completely unperturbed by everything—everything she had been through, had seen. He wondered how heavily they’d had to drug her, and if she would even remember half of it come the moment that she sobered up.

He exhaled, glancing at the top of the ridge above them where the lights of the cabins and flashlights and whatever-the-fuck-else those monsters had at their disposal glimmered.

“When,” Elliot said, the word grinding out of her mouth haltingly, “when... did Jacob-”

“Drink some water,” Joey murmured. She uncapped the half-drank water bottle and pushed it into Elliot’s hand and added, “And we’ll talk about it later, but right now we need to move, Elli.”

Elli, John thought, and felt a faint glimmer of amusement at the absurdity of such a soft, round nickname for a girl who was only sharp edges. Well, but she wasn’t so sharp now, was she? As he led them along the dark trail, her fingers brushing his on occasion, he would glance over at her and find her staring at him like he was a stranger, like she didn’t recognize him. Maybe she didn’t; he wasn’t familiar with the drugs they’d put her on, anyway.

“What the fuck happened up there?” Joey hissed, her hand firmly rooted in Elliot’s as she tugged her along—not unlike the way Jacob was pulling Faith. She had taken the water bottle back when it became apparent Elliot wasn’t interested in it. “Why is Elliot covered in blood —”

“She’s alive,” John snapped, “isn’t that what’s important?”

“I suppose you’ll be wanting a fucking award.”

“Stop it,” Elliot managed out. “Stop arguing. You both are so fucking loud.”

Joey’s lips pressed into a thin line. They ducked into the treeline far below Sacred Skies Camp, picking their way as quickly as they could through the underbrush, but the journey was slow and arduous; guiding Elliot through the trees had, in the last twenty minutes, become no easier than guiding a toddler. A blind, deaf toddler, who spared no interest in staying upright, and also had a metric fuck ton of psychotropic drugs in her system.

The walk there seemed to take much longer than it had going up, but John was sure that was his own adrenaline crash happening. He’d been stressed—about getting Faith out, about what he’d find, if he’d find anything at all or if they’d have done away with Elliot seconds after getting her.

Fuck . The thought filtered through his brain with dismay at the realization that he had been worried about her. Jacob was right; he’d really only needed to get Faith. But Elliot had been—she’d gone in there for them , and Joseph wanted her alive, and—

“Tired,” Elliot said, her voice hoarse and cracking with exhaustion as she took agonizing step after agonizing step. “I’m so tired, J—”

“I know,” John and Joey said, both cutting Elliot off and overlapping each other at the same time. Of course, John already knew what it was like to handle Elliot like this. They’d toddled through one field with Elliot clutching him like an anchor, drugged to the gills, once already; this was new territory for the other deputy.

Joey gave him a dark, turbulent look—the kind that implied murderous intent—and John turned his attention back to the task at hand: getting the fuck out of there.

As soon as the truck came into sight, running with the lights off, John let himself breathe a sigh of relief. He hadn’t thought Jacob would really up and leave them, but it also wasn’t impossible that he would have insisted and said fuck off if Joseph had protested. His eldest brother had been notorious for pushing back, for picking fights, and maybe—just maybe—he was pissed enough to follow through this time.

“About time,” Jacob said from the driver’s seat. Joseph did not give his input, which only served to further John’s personal unease as he opened the tailgate of the truck. Joey climbed in first, swaying just a little. He’d noticed that her pupils looked blown, too, though not quite as much as Elliot’s, so it must not have been fully out of her system yet.

John glanced up the hill absently. The sound of Eden’s Gate members still echoed. Not quite done yet, he thought absently, and then said, “Alright, Deputy, let’s get a move on.”

“Too high,” Elliot sighed, and he wasn’t sure if she meant the tailgate or herself. John turned her around from trying to clamber into the back and gripped her hips; her hands fluttered unsteadily before holding onto his arms.

“Don’t throw up on me,” he said.

She looked tired. Each second her eyes spent open seemed to demand more and more energy from her. “Expensive shirt, huh?”

“That’s right.”

He hoisted her into the back of the truck; she sat on the tailgate for a second only, and swayed forward like she was going to tumble right off; she steadied her hands on his shoulders, fingers gripping his shirt and bleeding warm against his skin.

“You did it too fast,” Elliot muttered, her voice verging on spoiled brat. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, John climbed in after her as she scooted to the farthest spot away from the tailgate. Jacob didn’t wait for the tailgate to close before he pulled out of the brush; the truck hit the dirt road with a heavy thunk that had his teeth rattling around in his skull. Fucker, he thought, slamming the tailgate shut before the dust kicked up beneath them.

Elliot had her back pressed against the window into the truck. Blood covered her face and matted strands of her hair where they’d stuck to her cheeks; the vicious edge to her was dulled, whittled down to the bone until she was just a small girl folded up into the side of Joey Hudson.

When her eyes had fluttered shut and the night had settled a chill over them, Joey’s gaze flickered across John for a moment before landing on his face. She was silent, studying him—in a most infuriating way, wordlessly —before she finally said, “What happened?”

John glanced out at the Montana wilderness stretching out behind her, late into the night; he thought about the way Elliot had balked at the sight of the treeline, like there was something in there only she could see, something horrible.

“Well, the boys and I thought it’d be a nice night to go out,” he replied flatly, cocking his head before looking at Joey. “It’s been a while since we’ve done anything fun, you know, so it was nice to get the gang all together again for a little fun .”

The brunette’s expression flattened. “The devil rebuking sin.”

“I shot the psycho and I got Elliot out of there,” John bit out. “What did you expect?”

“You, to leave her,” Joey snapped. “That’s what I would have expected out of you.”

The words shouldn’t have stung. They were coming from Joey Hudson, after all, the only person that Elliot really cared about and so clearly the only person that John could use against her. But these facts were minor details to him now, carefully pinned out somewhere in the back of his mind—always accessible, but no longer important. Hudson had stopped being very important at all when she stopped being something to dangle in front of Elliot. Now they stung for a different reason, something that John couldn’t put his thumb on.

That’s not very true, something in him said, rattling against the bones of his rib cage. You know exactly why that bothers you.

“Well, that’s on you, isn’t it?” John replied, keeping his voice sickly sweet. “I’ll have you know I took very good care of your hellcat.”

“Yeah,” Joey ventured dryly, “having her shoved into a cult that shot her so full of poison it was coming out of her eyes really showed some TLC.”

“I’m sure she told you the plan was different,” John bit out.

“She tried. Which is why I’m wondering why you even fucking came back for us at all, Seed.”

Though Joey’s voice was soft so as not to rustle Elliot, it was pounding with venom. Hatred. That was to be expected, he thought; after all, in the short time that she’d been his ward, he’d done his very hardest to lure Elliot in with her fear and then passed her off almost immediately to Faith. But still, the wording struck him—it was the same sentiment that Jacob had flung in his face after blowing Ase’s brains out.

You put Faith at risk going back for her.

I’m wondering why you even fucking came back for us at all.

It was never the plan to save Elliot. It was always: get Faith, get out, and if you can get the deputy too—sure. Why not? She’d be indebted to them. Even more so if they got Joey out with her. But Faith should have been the absolute priority first, and he’d left her down at the lake to go back up into the middle of a firefight to get Elliot and Joey out.

If we’re partners, you have to trust me.

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much,” he managed out, trying to keep his voice as clipped as he could. “Normally, when people are rescued, they’re thankful. ”

“You did kidnap me,” Joey snapped, “so you’re closer to us being equal than my being grateful, and even that’s pushing it. I just don’t know if the rescuing still counts as a good deed if you only did it for yourself.”

John stared at her, eyes narrowing and jaw setting, tense and tight until pain radiated up into his skull. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Deputy Hudson —”

“Then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

Elliot stirred, eyelashes fluttering. She coughed into Joey’s shoulder—the gesture not lost on the brunette, who grimaced a little—and when her eyes landed on John there was an eerieness about them, like she was trying to pull him open and peer inside, peel back the vibrating tension and hostility that Joey Hudson’s interrogation brought of him.

“What?” John asked, barely masking his irritation. It shouldn’t have bothered him so much, but it did because he couldn’t get the way she’d said, John? out of his head, small and wounded so very afraid, with Ase’s blood drenching her.

“Just trying to figure out which John you are,” Elliot replied, her voice slick with exhaustion and the words rolling out of her mouth in something close to a slur. They sent an uneasy jolt through him. It was the drugs, surely—she probably said all kinds of weird shit while she was high. He didn’t know what she was seeing, anyway.

(—fucking hate you, John Seed, John Duncan, whatever the fuck your name is, whoever the fuck you are—)

The blonde sighed again. The breath sounded like some kind of exertion for her; she squirmed and tried to get more comfortable against Joey’s shoulder, the blood on her face staining the forest-green of the deputy’s shirt. John’s head ached. The memory of Joseph, silent while Jacob debated the logistics of getting a killing shot through Elliot, flickered through his mind, venomous.

(—should see yourself whenever Joseph says anything. You practically fall over to kiss the ground he fucking walks on—)

“Well,” he replied, settling more comfortably in his spot across from the two women, “let me know when you find out, why don’t you, Rook?” He let his head loll back against the lip of the truck bed, a dark, cloudless night spreading out above him. He wanted to brush aside the way Elliot looked at him, but he had learned long ago that was the quickest way to underestimate her.

“I’m just dying to know.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The truck came to a halting stop. John hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until the strange inertia-pull of the truck stilling rustled him from his sleep. It was hard to say how long they had been on the road, but if he had to guess—and, taking into consideration how Jacob liked to drive—he’d wager it had been only thirty minutes.

Across from him, Elliot was awake, murmuring something to Joey that he couldn’t hear over the sound of the engine giving one last kick before Jacob turned it off. There was a higher clarity about the blonde, now, one that implied that sleep had done her well—though the pupils of her eyes stayed wide, there was now a sliver of baby blue that he could see, if he looked close enough.

He grimaced as exhaustion burned through his body, and for a brief second, their eyes met; like before, they pried at him, tried to see something that maybe he didn’t want her to. 

As he lowered the tailgate of the truck and slid out, John turned around and instinctively reached to steady Elliot as she tried to climb down.

“I’m fine,” she said, more biting than he anticipated. Just coming down, John thought absently, his hands only remaining in the air for a second after her assertion before dropping to his sides again.

“Oh, yeah,” John replied, “I forgot that you’d rather I let you eat shit than keep you from falling over.”

She’s always been willful, he mused. The thought occurred as though John had known Elliot for a long time. In a way, he supposed that he did; fuck, he’d tried every goddamn trick in the book to lure her in, and she’d still spit her venom into her walkie at every chance she’d gotten. There was nothing that John didn’t try and dig up, nothing that he hadn’t racked his brain for in the brief moment that they’d visited all those years ago. And still— and still, and still —she—

“Hudson,” John said, offering his hand to her because he was a gentleman and certainly not because he enjoyed the way the gesture made her squirm.

“Fuck off, John,” Joey replied tersely, sliding off the truck bed as well. John smiled dryly.

He said, the needling coming to him like second nature, “So nice to have both of you here at one time. It’s what I always wanted, you know.”

Elliot shot him a look, one that sucked the wind right out of his sails. It was a wounded look, like he had suddenly reminded her of the things he had done, and John felt an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. He didn’t know why the words came out—a force of habit, maybe, or the way that Joey Hudson’s animosity (and closeness ) to Elliot made his hackles raise. As though Joey’s presence made a choice immediately clear for her, and she chose Joey.

The clench of his jaw sent pain radiating up into his skull. He thought that things had been much simpler pre-Joey Hudson, and he was regretting having helped her.

“I knew you’d come and save me,” Faith said, her voice breaking him out of the turmoil of his thoughts. She smiled at him, and it would have almost been endearing if her pupils weren’t absolutely blown to hell, reminding him that they’d probably done more than just drug her with some weird hallucinogen—the way she’d been acting when he’d seen her on the road had been something more akin to the kinds of things Faith had partaken of before.

He reached up, pulling her into a one-armed hug. “Yeah?” he replied. “You listened to those crazies?”

“They’re not crazy,” Faith sighed. Her voice bloomed with something like affection, and when she looked at him, there was a startling clarity about her expression—keen, and a little sly. Not so innocent, our Faith, he thought absently. “Just different, John. And you came, didn’t you?”

A prickling sensation crawled up the back of his neck. John glanced away from Faith, his gaze meeting Joseph’s from where he stood in front of the car; per usual, his expression was unreadable, obscured behind a mask of tranquility that provided no insight on what his brother was thinking or feeling.

“Go on,” John said, patting Faith’s back, “get some sleep. You’re going to feel like hell in a few hours, you know.”

She laughed, like maybe she didn’t quite hear what he actually said, and slid out of his half-embrace to wander around to the front of the car where Joseph was waiting. He turned his gaze away, swallowing back the feeling that he’d somehow failed a test—something that only Joseph knew the meters and results of, that he’d have to sweat until he found out about.

Elliot had already started walking away with Joey, taking her back to the same bunkhouse that she’d been holding up in prior to their little excursion. They spoke in low voices to one another; Elliot’s expression was even soft, softer than it had been when he’d found her sobbing into the grass in the field, when she’d been terrified out of her skin. Softer than when she’d had Ase’s brains splattered all over her.

John sucked his teeth, pushing the tailgate of the truck up until it latched. The adrenaline crash was starting to hit him hard, now. Every muscle in his body ached with the effort of moving, as though they’d all tensed and held for hours at a time; maybe they had. Gunfire and screaming still echoed in his head, while corpse after corpse, and Ase’s shattered head, lingered just behind his eyelids. They didn’t bother him, these images of glory and gore—but he couldn’t shake the way that Elliot had looked at him from the ground, drenched in blood, terrified.

Terrified of him.

“It’s always going to be like that, you know.” It was Jacob’s hard, steely voice that pulled him now, like his siblings wanted to take turns interrupting his train of thought. “She’s always going to pick Hudson over us.” His brother leveled him with one swift, hard look. “Over you .”

“Funny,” John muttered, “I didn’t realize you were a psych professional, Jacob.”

“Faith could have died because you went back for that girl,” Jacob bit out, his voice low but vibrating with something more venomous. “I know you know that, you aren’t stupid. And you went back for her anyway. So—”

“So, what?” he interrupted, trying not to let the frustrated venom from watching Elliot take Joey’s hand and walk off bubble out of him. “Faith’s alive, that crazy bitch is dead. What else do you want?”

“For you to get your shit together,” Jacob snapped. “Like I said, I know you’re not stupid, but do yourself the favor and prove it to me anyway. That girl —”

That girl, Jacob said, like the words didn’t suddenly fill John with some kind of poison. The eldest Seed gestured toward the bunkhouse, where inevitably, Elliot and Joey were conspiring; to leave, to kill. At this point, John wasn’t sure, and he didn’t think that either would surprise him.

“—is nothing. Don’t let nothing fuck everything up for us.” Jacob’s words were hard and cold. He gripped John’s shoulder and added, “Don’t let nothing fuck everything up for Joseph.”

That’s what it really boiled down to at the end of it all: that Joseph had seen like he always did, because nothing went without Joseph’s seeing, and maybe he wasn’t sure that Elliot was really worth the trouble anymore. Before, Joseph had wanted her to add to their little collection of misfits, just like he’d added the sheriff’s receptionist, just like he’d picked up Faith when she was Rachel, just like when he let Jacob tap into the worst parts of him for use, just like just like just like . Joseph was hard-pressed to find a vicious misfit that he didn’t want for himself, and Elliot Honeysett had been no different.

But a hard-to-break will cost time, and resources, and maybe with these locusts in their garden, that just wasn’t going to cut it anymore. Not for Joseph. Not right now. Where was this, anyway, back at the start of it all? Back when John had wanted to do things his way?

“Whatever Joseph’s opinion on the usefulness of the deputy, Burke’s gone,” John said after a minute. Jacob’s hand still sat heavy on his shoulder; he passed a hand over his face and sighed. “That marshal, the one that was—”

“I remember.”

John grimaced. “He was with Faith, and Hudson, but he wasn’t at the camp that I could see.” He paused again. “Jacob, if he got out and he made it out of Hope County, he’ll be a problem.”

The red-headed nodded once, brisk. “A big fucking problem.” Another pause, and then: “Tell me you’ll get this whole issue with the deputy wrapped up.”

John’s jaw clenched. Tell me you can do this, Joseph had said. Tell me you’ll get this whole issue wrapped up. Hadn’t he proven he was capable of handling her? Hadn’t Joseph himself said that?

“There’s no issue,” he replied flatly, stepping around Jacob and heading to the church. “Never was.”

“Good.”

It was easy to say, and harder to believe. He knew—the rational part of his brain, somewhere inside of him—knew that he was jealous of Hudson. That he knew exactly what Hudson thought of him, and he hated that someone who hated him had Elliot immediately trailing after her like a puppy, as though the last three days—all of those moments hadn’t meant—

And what was he supposed to think, then, about the way that her lashes had fluttered when his fingers brushed her skin, the way the heat crawled under her freckles when he slid into her planetary pull? That it was just—passing? Nothing?

Does it matter?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  

Elliot was having a hard time.

That was to say, there were a lot of conflicting emotions that were welling up inside of her, crashing down like tidal waves. Normally, she’d be able to bottle those pesky things up and bury them deep inside her, to access later (which could be minutes, or days, or years—whenever); but with the drugs still wreaking havoc on her, she felt like all of her normal defenses were crashed and battered, maybe even beyond repair. Maybe even permanently decimated.

It was lucky that she had Joey, she supposed as she closed the bunkhouse door behind them, letting the noise of it soothe her over-worked senses; lucky, because Joey had always been her lighthouse in the times that she needed it the most.

“We have to get out of here,” Joey said, and the words immediately exhausted Elliot further. She took in a long, suffering breath and sat down on the edge of one of the bunk beds, rubbing her hands against her face. She was far from out of the woods; she thought maybe she was starting to come down, or even crash, because it felt like electrical pulses kept ricocheting through her body and they wouldn’t stop.

Elliot managed out, “I’m in no shape to go anywhere, Joey, you know that I—”

She saw the look on Joey’s face. Distress. John had kidnapped her, and terrorized her with whatever it was he had originally planned to do to her, and now they were here, in the compound, where it had all began. And yes; John had kidnapped Joey, and her, and yes, he was a fucking psycho, and—

And yes, he knew her well enough to shove a cigarette in her hands when she was stressed, and he didn’t complain when her nails dug into him when she thought the world was going to split in two around her, and yes, he did come back for her when he didn’t have to, and yes and yes —

‘And yes’ what? A nasty voice inside of her head said. A man so much as looks at you and all of a sudden you’re on the other side?

“I can try,” she offered weakly. “I can try, if you want to go now, but I don’t know where Boomer is and everyone from Hope County is—hopefully—already gone. I don’t have anything.”

When the words came out of her mouth, she felt the last thread holding herself together snap. I don’t have anything, the words echoing hollow inside of her, reminding her that everyone was gone, maybe they were dead, that she didn’t know where her dog or her mama were and maybe that meant that she didn’t have anything left inside of her, either, nothing left to give. That she had scraped and scraped to the bottom of the barrel and now she’d have to start breaking herself into pieces to have anything worthwhile to give anyone.

“I don’t have anything, Joey,” she said again, her voice wobbling and wet and fuck, she hated it so much, the burning of her eyes stinging against blood and viscera collecting in the tears. “I don’t, I’m sorry—I’m really sorry—”

Joey crossed the small space of the bunkhouse to crouch in front of her. She pressed her hands into Elliot’s shoulders, and she was saying something, but Elliot couldn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in her head.

She pressed the heels of her palms against her eye sockets, but the gesture brought no comfort; each time she closed her eyes, she kept seeing Ase, skull caved in. Surely, one shot had been enough? Surely, the second shot to her head was just—

Just John being himself.

“God, he fucking—he mutilated her, Joey,” Elliot managed out, her voice breaking on something like agony as the panic started to set in. Her hands trembled and she pushed the hair from her face, a movement that she was sure was just packing the dried blood in. She couldn’t get her eyes to focus on anything; everywhere she looked, she thought she could see the dark flicker of Ase’s clothing, the haunting corpse come to finish what she started. “She was dead—all of her, just falling—spilling out of her, like she’d been gutted, and I thought that he was done, and we’d go home, but then he shot her again—God, fuck, Joey, she’s all over me—”

“Hey,” Joey said firmly. “El. Take a breath and look at me.”

“I am.”

“A bigger breath,” Joey insisted, taking her hands away from her face and pulling her to a stand. “Just one.”

She did. I see, she thought and failed. I smell, I hear, I feel, but nothing came. She was drowning in it, whatever it was; Ase’s blood and guts on her, the memory of her glassy eyes as Ase reached for her, the feeling of Kian’s hands on her neck, the horrific monster lurking in the woods, and…

“Take another,” Joey reiterated. “Just one more.”

Elliot knew this trick. It was the oldest trick in Joey’s book. Just ask for one, and then just one more, and then just one more, until she was breathing like normal. She did as the brunette bid her anyway, and because her normal grounding methods had failed her, she instead thought, I’ll just count to ten. If I can make it for ten more seconds… And then another ten…

“You’re still sweating hallucinogen,” Joey murmured, squeezing her hands to help bring her back down. “You should take a shower. Come on.”

The journey between the main room of the bunkhouse and the felt both like it took years and happened without her knowing, as though she’d blinked and suddenly found herself standing in the bathroom, the fluorescent on the ceiling digging into her irises.

Her gaze flickered up to the mirror hanging over the sink. The person that looked back was a stranger to her; blood splattered every inch of her skin, matted in her hair, staining her in dark, carmine gore. Elliot thought about the strange voice in the woods, crackling and snapping and trying her on for size as it slid under her skin.

As the glass of the mirror seemed to pulse and stretch, the sound of running water snapped her attention elsewhere, hands limp at her sides. Joey pulled the knob that turned the water into a shower and said, “Okay, Elli, you call if you need me.”

“Okay,” Elliot murmured tiredly.

“Okay,” Joey repeated, watching her for a moment. And then she pulled her into a tight hug, and whispered, “For the record, I never doubted you’d be able to get me out. From John, or from the other place.”

The words didn’t offer her any comfort, but they were nice, nonetheless. She nodded her head and waited until the brunette had left the room before she started to undress, her movements methodical but unsteady; it wasn’t until water hit her skin and she saw the streams of thinned blood touching down on the floor of the bathtub that she finally felt some relief.

Even if it was only a little.

I don’t have anything, she thought tiredly, her eyes closing as she ducked her face under the stream of the shower. I don’t have anything left. What am I supposed to do now?

She had Joey. She didn’t have any idea of how to find Boomer. Hope County was gone, if they were lucky, and dead if they weren’t. She hadn’t heard from her own mother in--weeks? Or was it days? How long had this been going on?

It felt strange, to not be able to trust her own memory—to not know when the last time was that she got a full night’s sleep, or the last time that she curled up in her own bed, or the last time that she spent doing something that she enjoyed. As Elliot scrubbed the blood off of her face and out of her hair, staining her fingernails rusted-red, she thought that the idea of continuing on , of doing more, was so very exhausting.

They didn’t hurt you? John had asked, his fingers brushing the bruises on her throat where Kian’s fingers had gripped. It bothered her, when people touched her—grabbed her like they owned her, like she wasn’t in control of her own body—but when John did it, it was different. Even when he’d dragged his finger under her collarbone and said, I think it’ll fit nicely right here, don’t you? Just over your heart.

John was only doing what he was meant to do all along: draw her in, keep her there, and Ase’s gruesome death was just a reminder of the person that he really was. She had forgotten that.

But she wouldn’t again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The night felt sticky, sitting like a second skin on him. When John stepped into the church to find Jacob and Joseph talking in low voices, he felt a strange sensation prickle down his spine. It was anticipation, he realized, nearly a moment too late; by the time he was bracing himself, Jacob had turned and walked out the side door, leaving himself and Joseph alone.

“How is our deputy?” Joseph asked, his voice light and mild. John tried to lessen the tension in his jaw.

“Which one?” he replied dryly. “She’s fine.”

Joseph said, “You were worried about her.”

“Well, I did work really fucking hard not to kill her,” he bit out, and then sighed at the way Joseph’s brow arched, a visible change in his expression even in the dim, intimate lighting of the chapel. “Look, Jacob already gave me the whole speech about—”

“I think you’re doing a great job with the deputy,” Joseph interrupted, firm but not unkind, “and I want you to continue.”

John stopped. Maybe it was the adrenaline crash, or the way that he’d come into the conversation at what appeared to be the end of it, but he couldn’t wrap his head around what Joseph was telling him; especially after what Jacob had said to him.

So he said, very intelligently, “What?”

“Our friend the marshal got out,” Joseph supplied. “Hope County has evacuated, if they’re lucky. But you know, John, even if they come for us—even if they arrest us—there are…”

A pause lingered between them, just long enough for something close to dread to knot and writhe between his ribs.

“... ways,” his brother continued, placing each word meticulously, “to make a legal case like this one fall apart.”

I don’t know what you mean, John wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out of him. If Hope County was on the run, they might not ever look back; if the U.S. Marshal brought his buddies back, that would make Elliot the key witness in their case, while the other members of Hope County and the Resistance were…

“It’ll be all of them testifying against us,” John said after a moment. “I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, but—”

“You can convince people not to talk,” Joseph replied. He paced away from the table at the center of the chapel’s front room, absently scratching at his jaw, as though he were only just coming up with this idea; John knew that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t ever the case with Joseph. Nothing went without careful deliberation. “There are particular brands of persuasion that work better than others. But we’ll need more than just silencing our neighbors. We’ll need…”

Positive testimony, John thought, when the words didn’t come out of Joseph’s mouth.

“Yeah,” John murmured tiredly. “I know.”

“Good.” Joseph gave him a small smile. He reached out, gripping John’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, John.”

He stared at the wood paneling of the floor. Maybe he was tired; maybe it was the exhaustion from the last few hours, but Joseph’s words didn’t strike the same match in him that they had before. If Joseph noticed—and he almost certainly had—he didn’t let it show; rather, he let the distance between them grow, hand dropping from his shoulder as he walked for the door.

“You were going to let Jacob kill her.” The words came out of John’s mouth before he could think to stop them, before he could say to himself, it’s not worth the fight. He’s your brother, John. He gave you everything. Don’t you always say that you waited your whole life for something to say yes to?

He felt, more than he saw, Joseph pause in the doorway leading out of the chapel. A strange silence stretched between them; it was one where John thought he might have felt the scrutiny of his older brother’s gaze on him.

And then, in a voice casual and light, Joseph said, “You’re tired, John. You’ve had a long day. Get some rest, won’t you?”

John was tired. Tired enough to think that he might fall asleep standing up if he wasn’t careful. “You’re right,” he said after a moment, turning his head to look at Joseph over his shoulder with a small smile. “I will.”

“Goodnight, John.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Night passed more quickly than he would have liked. By the time morning had arrived, he thought maybe his conversation with Joseph was a dream; that he’d hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe some of the Family’s weird drugs had rubbed off on him while he was in there.

By the time early morning had rolled around, he’d dragged himself through a shower and into cleaner clothes. He half expected to find the bunkhouse completely vacated by Elliot and Hudson by the time he walked out with an armful of clothes, pleasantly surprised that Elliot was leaned against the door. Smoking, naturally.

“You look more like yourself,” John said as he approached. Her gaze flickered over him absently. She looked tired, but had since washed the blood and guts off of her face and out of her hair; as she took a drag of her cigarette and tapped the ash out of the end of it, her eyes turned away from him. Weird, he thought. He added, “I know you’ve got the whole blood-stained look, but I thought you might like to get into some clothes that are a bit cleaner.”

Elliot smoothed her boot over some ash on the ground, waiting for a heartbeat longer than normal before she said, “Thanks.” She sounded sour , like John’s mere existence was a chore for her, and not the way that it had been before—like she really meant it.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, watching her curiously. Despite the dark circles under her eyes, and the sickly rasp in her voice—it had probably felt nice to be high in that regard—she looked clear-headed. Normal. “How are you feeling?”

“John,” Elliot sighed, “let’s not.”

“Fine,” John snipped. “Where’s Hudson?”

“She went to walk the perimeter to try and call Boomer,” Elliot replied tiredly. “And then we’re leaving.”

Fuck, he thought, remembering his conversation with Joseph. Fuck fuck fuck. “Well, isn’t that lovely.” The biting venom welled up in his voice. There was a strange panic setting in now. She wouldn’t look at him, not for longer than a second, and her tone rang hollow and empty. He swallowed thickly, teeth clenching as he continued, “And how do you intend to leave, then? On foot? You sure seem like you’re in peak physical condition to be walking cross-country, Elliot. But I suppose if you have Hudson, then it won’t matter, because Hudson rescued you from those cultists and—”

“I don’t know, John ,” Elliot bit out, a real flex in her voice this time. It was comforting, to have her be anything—anything but ambivalent, anything but absent from their conversation. “I think I could get pretty far if I decide to start blowing people’s fucking skulls in with a shotgun, don’t you?”

John stared at her. “Pardon?”

“Oh, fuck off,” the blonde snipped, dropping what remained of the cigarette and stomping it out with her shoe. “Don’t give me your fucking clothes. If I change out of these I might forget that you splattered me with that woman’s brains.”

She turned and opened the door to the bunkhouse, going to close it, but John shoved his foot in the doorway to stop her, tossing the clothes onto the bed the second he got inside. 

“I didn’t ,” John seethed. “Maybe you were too fucking high out of your mind to tell—”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Elliot’s voice was flinty. “It completely slipped my mind that you’re incapable of taking responsibility for yourself. Remember, John, that time you rubbed it in my face that your fucking family made me into a murderer? Because I do, and the pure fucking irony —” She jabbed a finger into his chest, the anger seeping out of her now. “—of you trying to make me feel like shit for killing your idiotic little cultists and then obliterating a woman’s skull onto my face is palpable!”

“Are you deaf?” John snapped, snagging her wrist before she could turn and try to walk somewhere else again. “I didn’t shoot Ase in the head, Jacob did. I put both my fucking hands on you to get you off the ground. How am I going to do that holding a fucking shotgun, Elliot?”

“I don’t know!” she replied furiously. There was a reckless, high-color in her cheeks, her voice cracking and breaking on something that John couldn’t quite pin down, couldn’t quite get his hands on. Even now, he thought, even when she was spitting her venom she was so — 

“I don’t fucking know, John, you do—crazy fucking things all the time,” she insisted, and there was an uncomfortable wobble in her voice as her lashes fluttered. “Half the time I don’t know which John is going to open his fucking mouth—I don’t know if it’s—if it’s the John that kidnapped my best friend or if it’s the John that… That can be… With me, he’s...”

Her voice trailed off, weaker now, her fire spitting furiously as it tried to stay alight. John’s fingers loosened around her wrist, but didn’t let her go.

“There’s only one John,” he said, and his voice came out hoarse. “It’s just me.”

“I hate you,” the blonde managed out weakly, her lashes dark with unshed tears, soft and doe-like. “I’ve never—”

“Elliot,” John, tugging on her wrist, pulling her forward until she was in his space, until he could feel the warmth of her body and smell the wild on her—pine trees and ash and the mild shampoo she had used, “you’re going to have to come up with a new slogan that you actually believe.”

“John,” she tried again, and she was soft, soft and tired, “please, I’m—so tired of trying to figure you out—”

He closed what little space remained between them to kiss her; for a second, her entire body tensed like an animal ready for flight, stony and immovable against the affection, but he let her wrist slide from his hand, concerned that any moment he might spook her, that she was frozen because she was deciding when to run.

Her wrist slipped through his grip, catching at the base of her hand. She knotted her fingers into the front of his shirt and when his hand came up to the slope of her jaw, she leaned —like a flower to sunlight, blooming under his touch, just like that. Just that easy. John’s other arm slid around her waist to tug her up closer, and her mouth parted against his like instinct, like it had never not been this way between them.

The moment stretched; reality swung back in, the warmth of her mouth against his leaning back until a bit of space stretched between them. Not a lot, just enough for their noses to brush, and Elliot said, “I don’t know which—”

“I told you,” he replied, threading his fingers through her hair, “there’s just the one. This one, El, me. I want—”

“John,” she started, her voice overlapping his, "tell me that you're not lying when—"

He went to say, I want you to stay, I want to kiss you again, you hellcat, I’ve wanted to kiss you for days, but he didn’t get the chance because the sound of Joey’s voice outside the front door had broken the magic of the moment.

“Elliot,” Hudson called, “guess who I...”

The door opened, followed quickly by a scattering of dog nails as Boomer came racing inside. Without a second thought, Elliot had crouched down to wrap her arms around the dog John immediately took a step back and cleared his throat, feeling as though he’d been caught-out. Maybe, in a way, he had. He wouldn’t have cared, if he didn’t think that the idea of Hudson catching them would have made Elliot bolt instantly.

I should have kissed her again, he thought absently, watching Elliot fawn over Boomer with the kind of delight that she reserved only for him, her lips kiss-reddened. Before Hudson.

“He must have followed you here and waited,” Hudson said, looking at John with a narrowed, suspicious gaze. “Everything okay, Elliot?” she asked, even when she was looking at John. “I heard arguing.”

“Fine,” Elliot insisted, crouched on the floor to get as close to the Heeler as possible. “Everything’s fine. John was just—”

“Just dropping off some clean clothes for the deputy,” John interjected, despite the anxiety he felt sliding around inside of him when Elliot looked at him. The flush in her cheeks remained, and he knew that it wasn’t just anger there, anymore. Not really. 

Joey crossed her arms over her chest. “Great. So you can leave, then? We’re done with you.”

We’re, she said, like she spoke for the both of him, both herself and Elliot. We’re, like just seconds ago, John hadn’t been thinking about the way Elliot’s breath hitched when his fingers brushed her skin.

“Sure thing,” he drawled, taking a few steps toward the door. He almost walked right out the door, even with his hands itching for her again, but he stopped. I should just say it, he thought. I should just out it right now.

“What is it?” Joey prompted, her voice hard and flinty.

Elliot wouldn’t ever forgive him if he did.

“Nothing,” John replied after a moment. A little smile ticked the corners of his mouth upward, and for a second his gaze met Elliot’s. “Hope you get some well-deserved rest, you two.”

The brunette watched him with a dark, inscrutable gaze, and he stepped out of the bunkhouse, letting the door swing shut behind him. For just a moment, he paused outside the door; long enough to hear Joey go, “What was that about?”, and he started off across the yard.

Not done with me yet, deputy.

#far cry 5 #john seed/deputy #john seed/rook #my writing #fic: ancient names #when i say it's clowN HOUR #I MEAN IT #WELCOME TO CLOWN TOWN BABY #i'm the MAYOR

[willowrosenboob]

(Prepare for a rant) I mean full offense to Jenny Nicholson but TVD is SUUUUUCH a blatant ripoff of Buffy that the first time I even got into the fandom I was so confused over how I kept hearing THE SAME ARGUMENTS that people used so much over the brothers and which ship of them and Elena was better. I know that TVD is based off of a book series but having read the books and the plans of the original author when it came to that story, TVD the series is insanely different and there's too many parallels to Buffy that go beyond the love triangle and "best friend who's a witch". Even the Stefan/Ripper stuff are so similar to Angel/Angelus that the fandom often uses the same argument about it and how "it doesn't really count because they're intentionally bad vs when Angel has a soul/Stefan has a conscience". Also Spike/Klaus????? Where????? I'd even argue that Klaus is so much more evil than Spike and I'm not even interested in defending Spike in any way, it's just that Klaus was literally planning on making an army of werewolves when practically any idea that Spike has ever had fails because he's a fucking moron, and I say this as a complete fact. There's also the fact that Julie Plec's plagiarization is all over her other series as well, especially Legacies. And for all of the reasons that Josh Whedon can go to hell, at least Buffy had more coherent season-long plots and even with it's flaws stands out as a series overall. TVD IS A MESS, both plot and character-wise, I practically gave up around season 4 because I couldn't even take any of the bs from it anymore. End of rant (sorry for the long message).

i totally get you. i think a big problem with her take was that she mentioned how the similarities to twilight had to do more with common tropes in the genre, but she didn’t touch AT ALL upon how twilight affected pretty much all teen media of the time. maybe the reason that the series is so different from the books is because a lot of vampire media became so centralized  and uncreative in the twilight era and constantly borrowed from things that already existed. and i’m saying this as someone who’s completely fascinated with the twilight phenomenom, like it really gots its hands into every single corner of the world in just a few years. nothing was truly sacred. that could’ve been a really interesting angle to explore, though i guess the video was already so long, it makes sense t

another thing i noticed is how she said she likes julie plec, but you can clearly tell that’s because she’s never even touched all the drama that’s gone down with her over the years. i’ve only started looking into the tvd fandom in the last few months but even i know that everyone hates her for so many valid reasons. giving yourself some space from fandom is valid, but it made her video feel like it wasn’t properly researched.

i may be completely wrong, but my theory is that jenny has only watched up to season 2 ish of buffy, which is where her buffy=bad and spike=klaus takes come from. i get the damon/spike parallels, but with klaus the only similarity i see is that they’re both british and villains. yeah spike gets redeemed from the love of a woman, but before that he goes through a phase where he gets constantly dunked on and nobody can take him seriously as a threat, which is part of what makes him so interesting and entertaining to me. it’s like that post i reblogged a few weeks ago about how spike is the most pathetic of the worms, wearing the funniest of hats kjkjksdhg. tvd never had the balls to subvert tropes the way btvs did. also, spike had always centered his identity around the women in his life, even as a human, so his transformation didn’t come out of nowhere. klaus has pretty much been an uncaring dickbag for his entire existence, and i’m saying that as someone who actually likes him. but in comparison he is NOWHERE CLOSE to spike.

it’s kinda annoying that she said “if you like buffy you’ll probably like tvd cause it’s better” like she makes it so clear she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. i’ve seen so many btvs fans who hate tvd, and also lots of people who like both but prefer btvs. there’s a reason there’s are literal college classes on buffy and not tvd, and it’s not cause one is more popular than the other. one planned their storylines multiple seasons ahead of time, was thematically consistent, dealt with morality, and had powerful feminist themes, and that sure as hell wasn’t tvd.

ALSO in regards to your complaints, the ripper storyline pisses me off so damn much. there’s no real proof that the “humanity switch” actually makes you incapable of being a good person, it’s clearly only there for drama, unlike with btvs where the soul makes a huge difference in how vampires behave. the soul takes away a vampire’s choice to do good, but the lines between humanity/no humanity are so blurred that it feels like there’s no real thematic purpose to it. it’s straight up insulting to btvs

i enjoyed and agreed with most of the video, but that part just pissed me off

#btvs #answers #anonymous

[incarnateirony]

Thank you for your posts about canon / text / subtext definitions. I do wonder about what makes it 'obvious' to some people that Sam and Eileen have slept together. What do they think about Cas knowing that Dean kept the Colt under his pillow? Or that he's an angry sleeper? That look and gesture Dean gave Cas when he went to have a shower after Michael's first exit? The time he told Sam that Cas had left much earlier in the morning, when he'd clearly just got up himself? I'm confused

I have a simple answer: het goggles.

And yes, LGBT people can have het goggles.

I’m gonna tell you a brief story I’ve posted about before – and someone in the meta community even took an ~offended~ tone about it afterward when they heard about it.

A long time ago, the Dean played in my group (by an LGBT man) and I got tired of backflipping around the gay. In our S13-equivalent plotline (which was divergent, it basically split separate track after Tombstone), our respective climb to the finale, we had an opportunity. We took it. Tada, DeanCas canon! It was obvious, right? We run a genre server, we don’t do private sexy times shit, and one of the most important elements to us was being nonperformative and true to the characters. We sent out our big gay flare signals in public over, of all things, a sacred marriage ceremony and then cut-to next-day, where they were sitting in the kitchen talking. We kept using dialogue we intended to make as obvious as fucking possible and yet we noticed it seemed to be whistling by people.

(allow me to scream into the void as an aside about it being a 7 episode crash course through an inverted alchemical set about carrying marks that Cas ended up bound into with Dean. FREE ME.)

I went to DM and asked him, should we like, tell everyone? But the decision was to NOT, because even the best RPers can let meta things influence them. We wanted character reactions to remain authentic.

For the entire next mytharc (S14-adjacent?) we just kept writing on. And on. And on. And maintained their relationship as public, but as *they* are, as people. An established relationship. We didn’t hide it. And it kept getting missed. We kept dialing up HOW front and center shit was.

I want you to keep in mind, this is a server so full of shippers and LGBT people and LGBT shippers that we have a “token straight.”

And they kept missing it. Because of how this fandom has trained them to dismiss content.

If you want an idea of how bold it was, we were DMing each other like HAHA THEY CANT MISS THIS ONE “BET”, like a challenge, or just deadass “They’re going to miss that canon Destiel mention right there.” slamming out post after post with textual elements over the old missed news. There was even a time Cas joked about reconciliatory seduction, but not being the best at it, so maybe bacon would be better at the moment, or something along those lines. I sat, smugly, waiting for everyone to realize OMG WHAT, I even went to the OOC “Waiting for you guys to kill me”

What did I get back? “LOL CAS SAID SEDUCTION AND I LAUGHED” “LOL THAT’S AWESOME”

… “Oh my god give me a minute.” I literally had to walk away from my computer, refill my vape, rub my face down for a minute and DM my Dean, going “WHAT THE FUCK”

Our DeanCas wasn’t lowkey. Hell, it wasn’t even subtext. Just their physical elements were private quarter things and their “I love yous” weren’t really strangled down to that three words, but how they say, or enact it, each in their own ways, every day. 

We literally said, on repeat “oh my god this is what Bobo and Yockey’s DMs look like isn’t it” “Without a doubt tbh”

And I mean shit, there was literally a point that Michael Dean basically killed Cas (without actually kiilling him, it was the jumpscare) in Dean’s bedroom on Dean’s bed after being lured in to talk about some shit by actual-Dean who realized Cas was going off on a sacrificial crash course and he cuffed him down there. So that? Sure, that wasn’t sexy time bedcuffing. But when Michael got his hands on the archangel blade and it killed the angel (grace) not the host (soul), and Cas’ wing prints of his near death were all over the bedroom and everything was broken – when Dean decided to move out to the DeanCave, he took human Cas with him.

Awww isn’t that sweet!! He’s like!! Taking care of Cas during his Empty trauma! was the call. Me and Dean’s player sat there staring like

So we had them literally, for a fun crack day, GO SHOPPING FOR A NEW BED. TOGETHER. ONE BED. TESTING IT OUT AND TALKING IMPORTANT SHIT WHILE LAID OUT ON TOP OF IT AND EVERYTHING. YOU KNOW, LIKE BROS DO, SHARING BEDS AND TALKING PERSONAL ISSUES.

Everybody thought it was *hilarious*

And it wasn’t even just shit like this, we had entire mytharcs playing into it. We had structural callback elements to famous related scenes. We had villains and contagonists addressing them as the mytharc lovers. Everywhere you turned, in any way you can imagine, we were trying to paint this picture without just having them randomly start cuddling in front of everybody. Lines like “DAMNIT CAS, BEFORE WE STARTED THIS, I MADE YOU PROMISE TO NOT MAKE ME YOUR WHOLE WORLD, OR UNIVERSE OR WHATEVER” in raging explosions over crash course choices or whatever else. I can not say ENOUGh how much open textual writing we sprayed out, only for it to be dismissed, brushed over, or even laugh tracked off entirely.

By. LGBT people. And shippers.

And people are *so quick* to shut down content that the few things that *seemed* to run opposite were entirely taken to heart. Eg, at one point, only a few weeks after 1. DeanCas went canon 2. Dean became Dinkle and vanished to the wind, someone had their character start talking to Jack about types of love and that “Dean and Cas need to get their heads out of their ass”, etc, and then Jack sat confused and Jack got talked to about Dean and Cas being dumbasses that need their shit together.

So here comes Cas, wandering into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee and he turns around to Jack GLARING at him and he’s basically like, what, and Jack explodes, as a child do, like “WHY DO YOU HAVE THE SEX WITH WOMEN WHEN YOUR HEAD SHOULD BE IN DEAN’S ASS” and Cas just fuckin DROPS his coffee cup and looks to the other person and is like “What did you tell him?!” but they took the resulting “WTF? WHAT ARE YOU TELLING MY SON?” as immediate complete total shut down (atop them clearly not realizing it already happened), rather than like, I just crawled my ass out of an alternate universe I was thrown into right after getting married and losing him and what the hell are you telling my 1 year old son about his dads when one might not come back and why the fuck does he think i’m sleeping with women

Eventually, I snapped. We ended up with a finale of facing Chuck (albeit totally different terms/conditions/location/etc) and yes, even a truth spell, so I went out of my way – and Sam’s player, who is my wife, and was the one person to really figure this out herself because she knows my writing for one and for two I’m the one that personally shattered her het goggles SO SHE KNOWS – went out of their way, and we lined it up exactly right for all the things to come together to hear Sam explode on Dean about just being honest about being in love with an angel and I just – slightly tweaking the usual character voice I’d use to free myself of this gay purgatory, had Cas go “Yes, I know. He told me a year ago.”

The whole goddamn chat: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?

Finally, fucking FINALLY, something broke through to everyone, with us literally warping and bending situations and character voices just to be like RELEASE ME

– but when one of the big name meta bloggers got told about this? They were like “Aren’t you mad? Don’t you want more visible representation???” to which I was like IDK MAN I WAS FOLLOWING THE REPRESENTATION LEAD OF THE GAY DUDE IN MY SERVER SO ASK HIM? WE WERE TRYING TO REPRESENT PEOPLE JUST WEREN’T SOAKING IT???? IDK??? WHAT DO YOU WANT

Everyone actually in the server took it really well, “heteronormativity is a hell of a drug” was one of the catch phrases for a while. People went back and sat, kinda embarrassed, reading over a goddamn season worth of canon Destiel and kicking themselves like, how did I miss this? How did I straightsplain this? What the fuck?????

So yeah. Heteronormativity is the biggest culprit and, in many cases, the second is the lack of willingness to introspect and reflect because if they’ve been ~wrong~ then… something. I don’t know what exactly goes through their head. But something.

I’ll add the video I made after 14.20 aired which made some material about Chuck available for it, to “Rat in a Cage” (rats in a maze S15 launch me into SPACE), but that sign over DeanCas? That’s the mark of Venus. 

#supernatural #spn #meta #my meta #heteronormativity #destiel

[illegiblewords]

5 Questions for Writers!

               5 Questions for Writers                                                        

I got tagged by @kunstpause, it looked like fun so figured I’d go for it! THANKS TO KUNST!

Tagging @wouldyouliketoseemymask, @nilim, @azwoodbomb, @peregrineroad, @frostmantle, @autumnslance, @strangefellows, @redbud-tree, @nozomikei​, and @rivenroad​. No obligation to anyone but full permission to steal granted to anyone else who might like to. I’ll literally be delighted if you pick this up spontaneously and blame me as an excuse lmao.

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

I made long answers so have a cut!

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

It depends heavily on what fandom and where I am mentally, but I’ve figured out I tend to love writing angsty lameass dudes with blonde hair who are prone to doing really silly things despite taking themselves entirely too seriously. Honestly, I have a pretty huge track record at this point. Harvey Dent, Vexen, Dmitri, Lahabrea, probably more besides. Every one of them fits the right balance of lameass to angst. I like seeing them grow and find fulfillment as people and they are very very cute while still having an edge of badassery and cleverness. Also they’re funny.

Lahabrea is my favorite at the moment, and him reaching that position is an accomplishment considering how stiff the competition is in FFXIV. Loser tricked his way to the top while I was busy laughing at him.

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

I really, really, really love redemption arcs and people recovering from fucked up experiences. Latter case especially I love seeing characters in those situations successfully connect to the people and world around them, especially if they get to grow together with a partner. I also LOVE “hero saves the villain and villain takes it to heart”.

(You may be sensing a theme here haha.)

There are a few reason these concepts resonate with me, the first being I think they’re really hopeful, inspiring, and something I always wanted to see growing up but rarely did.

People fuck up in life. People get hurt in horrible ways that bring out the worst in them. Sometimes when that happens they dig themselves deeper and deeper into ugliness. The more a person’s bad side comes out, the more hopeless it can feel. And for mental illness especially I’ve found this can be a major issue.

Everyone makes mistakes and everyone has flaws, but I think there’s something really significant in seeing someone who has hit rock bottom, who can no longer imagine a way out, get offered a hand for support and take it. While recovery and redemption (not synonymous of course) ultimately need to be carried by the individual struggling, I really can’t understate how important it is to know in those situations that you’re not alone and someone believes in you.

I think a big part of why this theme is important to me is because mental illness, both genetic and due to trauma, is something unbelievably difficult and painful not only for the sufferer but those around them. The most mentally ill characters in fiction tend to be villains, and are disproportionately more likely to be suffering severe trauma. It frustrated me since I was pretty young to see over and over again cases where a mess could have been avoided if there was any support system in place.

Seeing compassion and connection given that kind of power means a lot to me, as does recognizing that villains are people before they are villains. It’s also very reassuring in the sense of “If this person fucked up that badly but still tried to better themself, I can too. And odds are I’m also worthy of love and compassion, even when my issues make things harder for others. I just have to keep working to improve.”

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

Eff.

Straight up I think I’ve written too much to have just one favorite description. It’s been a lot of years and I have hundreds of fics and I’m lame. So I’m going to put a few of my favs.

Anytime there’s a gap in block quotes it’s a different section within the same fic.

22 - A Batman Fanfic

He trembles beneath the weight of their expectations but his smile never fades flashes before cameras microphones under his nose crowds screaming questions bleeding together he answers like clockwork the District Attorney who must bring justice to us all paying tribute to false idols with golden hair and silver tongues we the people bow down in worship to this guardian of the law with words and deeds I believe in Harvey Dent so he swears in hallowed halls to bring prosperity to smite the wicked to damn the criminal with authority invested in him by Gotham’s dutiful children and himself.

***

On the precipice of victory we stand united our voice raised like a torch like a spear like a golden arrow against the beast of Lerna we are gods and monsters we are so much more than good and evil we are order in the court cauterizing corruption our head held high and mighty manifest in Harvey of the doubletalk Harvey who writes himself into the fabric of Gotham’s history Harvey who will not bend before the Roman we command you the unworthy we condemn you the unrighteous we will not be merciful and you will fall before our eyes.

***

I am Dionysus divided at the altar of Tyche O Fortuna O Fortuna give me guidance in the light of the moon you dance sacred silver dollar I see and obey the wax and wane your whim Wheel of Fortune the card I am dealt your servant your slave venerated puppet of flesh blessed is your wisdom bestowed upon I am your disciple wine-mad twisted chanting your word becomes law holy splendor against gavels desecrating your name defiant in denial extend your will through me and we shall strike the innocent enlighten the ignorant or spare them all for now.

Doppelganger - A Spider-Man Fanfic

She asks him to tell the story of himself, and like Scheherazade he begins anew each day.

As with many other things, this comparison is imperfect. The Ravencroft Institute is hardly a palace and neither of them could pass for royalty. She sits in a chair across from him over a carpet the color of sawdust. Her walls are lined with insects pinned on display. Not many butterflies, quite a few beetles. On a bookshelf Dmitri sees The Metamorphosis nestled between non-fiction texts more relevant to her profession. He thinks maybe it's an inside joke she has with herself, but doesn't say so.

He's received an invitation to call her Ashley instead of Dr. Kafka and doesn't know whether to accept. It might be to make him more comfortable. It might be something else. In her late fifties Kafka is built from delicate features, and he suspects the lines around her eyes mean they crinkle when she smiles. Short black hair, beige suit, only jewelry a pair of diamond stud earrings. Dmitri thinks she looks like a mother, but not his.

Her weight sinks into leather, darker than the floor. The couch he rests on matches. He finds himself leaning forward with one elbow propped on his thigh, the other locked in a cast suspended by his neck. There is something reassuringly empty in the gray fabric of his uniform, cheap and utilitarian and harmless. Dmitri’s wrists are thin, but then he's lost a lot of weight recently. He probably wouldn't be able to run as fast as he used to, but then circumstances would be the same anywhere he went so that really doesn't matter. His espionage days are over. His free arm is shedding in flakes but at least his skin is dry. Clean.

Dmitri no longer looks like anyone, unrecognizable to himself. A face without much in the way of edges, short nose. Weak chin. Mismatched eyes that shift between green and blue and brown and every other natural hue as moments pass into minutes pass into hours. Dark blotches interrupt his forehead and chin. They will peel in new patterns across a span of days. For the most part though, he is pale enough to trace veins where his body seems on the brink of spilling out.

It's been a while since he shaved his head and the hair that grows back is almost foreign. An unruly mess of black, blond, brunet, and red—strands as unlike in texture as anything else. The mask that made him Chameleon was white plastic embedded with hardware. Left deformed after trying to resemble others in flesh too many times, it allowed him to duplicate any face, any body he could remember. More than holograms, the most complete sensory illusions technology could perform.

Without it, Dmitri feels stripped.

When Kafka looks at him she’s receiving constant signals and missing none of them. The moments he needs to turn away, flat monosyllabic turns of phrase he chooses or resorts to or blankly accepts as his own. It doesn’t have to be this way. It isn’t comfortable and he doesn’t even trust it’s not calculated. But she’s going to notice no matter what he does at this point, and lying about it doesn’t do anyone much good. They both know why he’s here.

***

“We were poor. We worked hard to keep ourselves fed and clothed and less than an embarrassment. I probably could have worked harder. Mother,” he begins before stumbling over himself.

The story he’s telling isn’t hers. Whatever else she was, Sonya Smerdyakov wasn’t Mrs. Bates. He remembers her voice as the beginning of an echo, forever following someone else’s lead.

And so he followed her.

She was bright like a light going out. She was gentle without being kind. Her fingers were short and delicate and she touched him as little as possible. He found her attention in the way she avoided his name.

***

In the privacy of his room, Dmitri began talking to himself.

Celebrities. Teachers. Children. The flat, steady rhythm of his father’s voice. The words and intonations favored by mother. Sergei’s laugh. He lost himself in a fantasy of conversations, strode through space to mimic confidence he didn’t feel, flashed teeth in front of his mirror like other people.

Once, Dmitri raised his voice. And when his older brother came, eyebrows knitting in confusion, he found himself full of stammered explanations, hands fumbling at his elbows, stumbling over his tongue to make sense of it.

Just making stories for himself. A game with no ending. That was all.

***

He would have died in that town under the eyes of speechless parents. Dmitri remembers the confusion that took his peers when he found a job for people who spoke for themselves. They thought he might be growing up.

He could lie. And when he began he understood it would always be a game with no ending.

Dmitri lost himself in a fantasy of conversations with real people and a voice that didn’t belong to him.

They asked a stranger to sign their yearbooks without even realizing it.

And then he was eighteen, and he left to continue elsewhere.

He didn’t announce his departure.

From Umbra - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

It was probably a dream.

Lukewarm water crept down his throat, nearly making him choke. A skin pressed to his lips, insistent. He coughed, and for the first time there was moisture enough for resistance.

The face that obscured his vision was shrouded in white cloth. Cenric found he couldn’t focus on it. Mismatched eyes, one light and the other dark. Impossible to say if blindness caused the inconsistency.

A string of shells dangled from the figure’s neck, rattling gently. The skin pulled back for a moment. Careful. Patient.

It returned only once he'd grown quiet. Cenric drank for as long as he could. Impossibly, a great deal remained by the time he relinquished his hold.

There wasn't enough of him present to say thank you. Cenric barely registered being dragged, being carried onto a cart. Awareness was altogether gone by the time they started to move.

***

…to the blessed traders who enrich our lives we’re bound to pay with our lives in turn aether born fire-walker your will sees us to rest we entrust ourselves to your sight forged of oschon for peace and prosperity and an ending you do not weep for father azeyma lives in the earth with you her fan brings no breeze the air is hot and thick and breathless your domain a silent place that does not stir have you forgotten the sound of your own voice have you known what it is to live and fail have you been alone do you know what it is to die how can a god pass judgment without being judged nald’thal lord of departures of flame and sand whose coin purse overflows who knows not what it means to starve what it means to spoil the legacy of one who loved you nald’thal who holds shells and souls and precious stones as if their worth were equal nald’thal who cannot know mercy without knowing pain who are you to weigh mortal affairs?

***

In darkness he unwinds the black bandana, steps first from his slops and then his kurta. Yuyudana has provided robes, which rest neatly on a small rock nearby. It crosses Cenric’s mind that the bones of his knees, his hips, his wrists, even his face have all started to protrude strangely. He looks less hyuran than before, maybe less than he ever has. Closer to something priests would exorcise than anyone deserving aid.

He wonders if this idea has occurred to them.

The water, when he advances, is cold. Goosebumps raise across his skin as slowly, gingerly, he wades in to his waist.

Cenric ducks under.

His hair is a long and tangled wreck. Being wet only disguises this slightly. It drifts past his neck, comes to float near the surface. Cenric holds himself in silence, eyes open, watching the silver scatter of light over stones and plants and fish. He remains for as long as he can bear.

His vision stings afterward. Gasping, he can’t tell if the cause is exposure or something else. For a time he simply waits, breathing hard through his nose, hunched so that his lips are partially submerged.

He thinks of nothing, pretends that this time instead of no future he has no past.

Only one moon remains. Maybe the sky aches for losing Dalamud, but better that than the blow which scarred Eorzea.

Stalemate - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

He is presented with impressions of a horse, gaunt and fetid and decayed. Spreading ruin wheresoever it goes. Occasionally it sloughs off portions of its own flesh, which collect flies and blacken any land that surrounds. On its back rests a world, and alongside it does the herd struggle under their own burdens. But even beasts of such endurance have limits. Theirs are reached. When the rotten steed lags, its companions cannot afford to falter. Cannot turn. Without its ability to bear loads, this aberration has no place. Falling is inevitable.

Yet a heart still beats and lungs yet swell.

The Ascian shivers in his grasp, but does not attempt escape.

Here, something festers. Something bleeds. An old wound exacerbated over time.

Fevered, coated in a film of self-disgust, the core of Lahabrea convulses.

 Don’t…

 Don’t leave me like this…

***

Teeth and tongue. Lingering, wet, disembodied. Another finds his hip. Another his thigh, slipping beneath what clothes remain.

And another.

And another.

Warm, human, seeking. The Warrior tightens his hold, uses the moan crawling from his own chest as incentive. Barred by naught but fabric, driving close as he can manage. Lahabrea makes a strangled sound, his gasp crushed empty. A new mouth finds the dark knight’s ear in response.

These are parts of him no one dares touch, no one dares acknowledge. Slick now, attended with something like reverence. Supplication.

He resolves to fuck the Ascian senseless for this, presses his intent deep into Lahabrea’s aether. He is going to steal all his fancy words away. Make him squirm.

“I… I…” Tight, airless, like a plucked string. The Warrior feels Lahabrea’s voice reverberate against the roof of his mouth.

The feeling is difficult to describe. Cracked ice. A fraying rope. Such is Lahabrea's response, fumbling and disoriented as it is.

The Warrior lets go.

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

Just imagine me weeping over here lmao. Same deal as before, I’VE DONE TOO MUCH SHIT.

Spare Change - A Batman Fanfic

"Stop," he gasps, "I wouldn’t—"

"You would Harvey. You did. It’s what makes you such a damn good instrument. You had to test yourself, prove that you’re not a real person.” He can feel fingers grinding against bone. His knees bend. Harvey kneels, shuddering, gazing up into the destruction of his own visage. Two-Face meets his eyes, blue on blue. “People are weak. People are ruled by what they want and don’t want. You’re capable of anything if the wind blows just right. You can’t even stop yourself.”

"I wouldn’t," he repeats, numbly.

"Did you," demands Two-Face, forcing him down further, "or did you not flip for their lives, Harvey Dent?"

"We…We aren’t the same people anymore."

"Of COURSE we’re the same people!" Another shove and he’s on the ground, Two-Face sitting on his chest, teeth bared, coin clenched tight between them. "Do you really think you can close your eyes and pretend you aren’t capable of these things? They’re alive," and there is something hideous in his expression, something certain, "because they were lucky. No other reason.”

"The coin is gone! Even if I wanted to listen to it—I can’t!”

"If you’re so sure," says Two-Face, "then how about you improvise?”

And with one motion the silver dollar is under his tongue, forced back so hard he feels himself gag and begin to choke before his eyes open.

The Inquisitor’s Letters - A Dragon Age: Inquisition Fanfic

To His Worship Inquisitor Mahanon Lavellan of Skyhold, My name is Isell from Amaranthine and I’m seven. My mum is helping but says I can send you all by myself. Thank you for fixing the hole in the sky and also the one by the dead man’s house. There were demons but they’re mostly gone now and people are going outside now. Da says Amaranthine has been through too much and can survive anything and he says you’re an elf like us and the Hero of Ferelden was an elf too. He says people used to think elves can’t be heroes but now they don’t. Have you met the Hero of Ferelden? Also I heard that even though you’re Dalish Andraste helped you in the Fade and that humans let you be in the Chantry because anyone Andraste likes must be a really good person. What’s Andraste like? The Chant says a lot but it’s different meeting someone I think. Also I think I saw you a little before but Mum wasn’t sure because you had a helmet on and we were far away and there were a lot of people but I bet it was you. Da wasn’t sure I should write because he says the Dalish don’t like city elves like we are but I think you must be nice and Mum agrees with me. I’ve been playing demon hunters with my brother Arrion (he’s just five still) and Da said templars are who fights demons usually and elves can’t be templars. People thought elves couldn’t be heroes and inquisitors though and we are so I bet I could too. Is it hard fighting demons? Da says they’re real scary but I’m not scared. Thank you for helping us and everyone and I hope you kill lots of demons. Sincerely, Isell U’venlan

From Umbra - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

Cenric sits on the floor, draped in a white cotton tunic. It might have been snug on a Roegadyn but anyone else would find ample room. Behind him, Memesu stands on a cot holding shears. Gold earrings dangle on either side of her face.

“I fought at Carteneau, you know,” she mentions casually. There is a soft hsssssshhhh. Click.

Hair hits the floor. Coils.

He starts to shake his head, aborts the gesture partway through. Stills. “…you saw Bahamut?”

Memesu snorts. “I’m sure everyone this side of Hydaelyn saw Bahamut.” Click.

“That’s probably true,” he concedes. The dragon is what everyone knows, everyone remembers. He can't imagine the proximity. “What about the Warriors of Light?”

“Pff.” Gentle tugging at his scalp. Cenric does not open his eyes but leans into the motion. “I wasn’t of rank to see their like. Not that I’d remember. Stop moving.” Click.

Cenric hesitates.

“What do you remember, then?”

For a time, the only sound comes from blades and a thousand strands cut short. This lasts for several minutes. Cenric resigns himself to secrets.

Then, “I used to think I was special too. As a twin. My sister was Memeni. We studied together.”

 Was.

The exhale hits him slowly, quietly.

“She died?”

He can feel the shrug in her hip against his shoulder.

“It was Carteneau,” says Memesu. “Of course she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Click. “It had nothing too do with you. If you keep trying to claim responsibility for every misfortune you find, you’re going to get self-important.”

Cenric only grunts, quiet and non-committal.

 Click.

 Click.

 Click.

“Carteneu was so much worse than people remember. Only four years later and already we hurry to dispose of details.” There is a hard undercurrent to Memesu’s voice, but what contact she makes remains light. Careful. “I remember the arcanist from Limsa who didn’t dodge a magitek canon in time. Miqo’te. Spells come faster in that discipline, so there’s less stress on distance than thaumaturgy. Girl got careless.” Click. “The mess smelled like rotten eggs and charcoal. Her face was… melted.” Click. “I try not to look in those situations. They only make casting harder. But she was so close.”

Cenric doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word.

Memesu continues. “One of our own gladiators, an Ala Mhigan, took to mutilating any pureblooded Garleans he could catch. The man had a string of eyes hanging around his neck. I’m pretty sure one enemy officer wet himself before he started to beg. Not that it particularly mattered.”

 Click.

“Memeni… didn’t anticipate what she was getting herself into. She saw magic as a way of being useful to craftsmen. My focus has always been theoretical. Right side.” Startled, Cenric lets her guide his jaw to get a better view of his profile. Click. Click. “Meni used to think I was a priss. She preferred to develop magitek kettles alongside alchemists. See if she could find a way to capture light like the Mhachi did. She still enjoyed fishing when she could, even though it smelled awful. Never outgrew the braids she wore growing up. ” Memesu sighs. “…just understand she died afraid, in pain, and with things left undone. My sister didn’t even resemble herself at the end.”

Cenric is very still. Thinks carefully.

“…I wish it could have gone differently,” he says at last.

Memesu’s mouth slides up in a small, crooked smile. She tousles the neat, ear-length hair before her. “So do I.”

Eclipse - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

It ends at Elidibus’ untimely arrival.

“Lord Zodiark,” he says, so smoothly that were he not searching for it that the anger would be undetectable, “appreciates your attentions.”  His gaze does not waver from Lahabrea as he speaks. “But there is work to be done and I’m afraid there are words I would have with your Speaker.”

They disperse.

Nabriales, careful and curious, folds himself out of sight beyond the chamber then makes his way back to its edge.

Lahabrea, farthest from the exit, attempts to steal some small dignity. Turns to face Elidibus.

The Emissary makes him wait. Expressionless red masks matched by those who wear them.

Then, with more speed and force than typical for his demeanor, the Emissary closes distance to trap his colleague against the wall.

“It was my error,” hisses Elidibus, leaning in, “to have stayed silent upon rescuing you. A mistake I will remedy now, so we can be on no uncertain terms.”

Lahabrea lowers his eyes. Nabriales notes that despite the dread they all share of such reprimands, the man does not brace.

“You know as well as I that these words offer less succor to our Lord than action,” continues Elidibus, his fury quiet and no less sharp for that, “just as we both know your thoughtless action is the cause of repeated missteps these past centuries. Make no mistake—for all the strides you’ve made, your fixation and your impatience have cost the rest of us considerable time.”

Silence.

“Do you truly think this is your best service to Him?” asks Elidibus. “To us? Compromising your ability to fill the hours? Even Emet-Selch agrees these displays are disgraceful. You have ever borne them poorly, but being a 'paragon among paragons' naturally you continue ignoring your own better judgment with ours to continue this exercise in futility. Idiot.”

A twitch of the head. Almost a flinch.

It is one of few moments Nabriales has seen the Emissary express his anger so openly. Even after the Thirteenth fell to Igeyorhm’s error, Elidibus allowed the Angel of Truth to lead and voiced his own reproach with a more typical icy demeanor. Scathing though it was.

“I can be of use,” says Lahabrea softly. “Only three of us remain, and I—“

“You,” Elidibus snaps, “cannot follow the most simple instructions for the good of us all. Not for Him, not for Amaurot, not even for yourself. Your pride has made you not simply an embarrassment but a liability.”

Neither man speaks for several moments after that.

And then, at length, Elidibus exhales.

Says the Speaker’s name.

Receives his attention.

“What would you have me do?” the Emissary asks. His tone now is almost weary. “Clearly it would be unreasonable to trust you’d simply listen. Must I mind you like a child?” This is what breaks Lahabrea’s composure.

Knowing the man’s temper, Nabriales had expected him to lash out. Even on the back foot their orator is perfectly capable of defending himself from insults.

Instead, he embraces Elidibus fiercely—face just within the bounds of his pauldrons. Jaw locked shut firmly enough to hurt. Expression downcast.

Elidibus remains perfectly still at first. In the absence of conversation it is possible to hear the rush of Lahabrea’s breathing. Only through the nose, withheld briefly between each inhale as if that offers some means to steady himself.

As if that would make it better.

Tentatively, Elidibus holds him back. Lahabrea's fingers contract, and though he remains upright when his knees begin to give it is the Emissary who helps him kneel.

“Easy,” he murmurs, and Lahabrea removes one hand to run it reflexively over his face—coming against the mask.

Nabriales finds himself staring, searching. A puzzle with missing pieces whose image he may yet divine

“It was not,” says Lahabrea roughly, “my intention to…”

Elidibus reaches beneath the other man’s cowl, finds the hair and skin beneath. Draws him in once more.

Naught that would be shared with or among the Sundered. Nothing so personal as that.

Nabriales has worn his own share of flesh. Bedded lovers, adopted companions and families of vessels to fulfill a purpose. Passable enough, perhaps, but never for him. Not in truth.

It’s as if he looks upon two strangers.

Parched - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

The door closes behind them. Lahabrea, projecting his preferred likeness over the host, waits on a couch within.

It’s admittedly a surreal sight. Ishgardian finery with its gilded edges, its elaborate wallpapers and marble floors. A collection of creams and blues and greens, fine furniture with velvet seat cushions. All ostentatious in the extreme… and then Lahabrea. Masked and cowled. Pouring three glasses of La Noscean arrack.

Elidibus freezes, and though none of them can see his eyes the confusion is clear enough.

“What is this?”

“Your turn,” says Emet-Selch, lightly but less flippant than he might have been.

Lahabrea proffers a cup from where he sits.

Elidibus neither moves nor speaks.

Emet-Selch approaches. Takes the drink. Presses it carefully into the other man’s hand.

“Don’t think,” he says smoothly,” that I won’t let you drop it.”

Mercifully, Elidibus has a good grip.

“Sit,” says Lahabrea, gesturing with his own glass to the sofa across from him.

Elidibus sits.

Emet-Selch sits.

Takes his own glass, perhaps a bit pointedly.

Elidibus’ mouth is pressed tight. It opens briefly, as if to speak. Shuts again.

“Explain,” the Emissary manages eventually.

Lahabrea meets his co-conspirator’s eye. Downs his arrack in a single attempt.

It is a long attempt.

It lasts several moments.

The other Ascians watch.

“Elidibus,” says Emet-Selch as Lahabrea endeavors to catch his breath in the aftermath, “Lahabrea and I are concerned that you may be experiencing some difficulties in recent years.”

“I’m fine,” replies Elidibus coldly. Holding his drink. “Why did you think this necessary?”

“Because—“ wheezes Lahabrea.

“Because you’re practically a mammet,” says Emet-Selch, picking up Lahabrea’s glass. Moving it just out of reach. “Truly. It’s been what, two hundred years? Three? Neither of us can remember the last time you so much as spoke of matters unrelated to the Rejoining.”

Lahabrea reaches. Elidibus pours his arrack into the other man’s glass before nudging it back toward him.

Elidibus makes eye contact with Emet-Selch.

“I remain focused,” he says evenly. “Nothing more.”

Emet-Selch gestures to the bottle.

Elidibus sighs.

Refills his own glass.

“There are matters I must attend myself. As is the case with each of you.”

“Undoubtedly,” replies Lahabrea more evenly. “But with few exceptions, you haven’t done so.”

A hard stare from behind the mask.

“What would you have me do? I can’t very well take time off.”

Emet-Selch sips.

“A negligible amount of time,” he says, “taken sparingly, may be forgivable.”

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

Lmao see this is a plus side/minus side deal. Minus side, it’s being asked just before I embark on a MASSIVE ASS FANFIC. And I basically am excited for all of it. Plus side, there are things I refuse to spoil.

So... putting it vaguely, in no particular order:

- Lahabrea and Hydaelyn meet a second time after Praetorium.

- Moonfire Faire

- Thancred

- Conversations over mulled wine

- Silvertear Lake

Some of these are sex scenes. Most aren’t. But I am very hyped.

[krahka]

mehra and zirseth for that meme make me cry i dare u

Rate how well they get along on a scale 1-10.

I would say like a 7? Like it goes between a 10 and a 2 a lot. (2 because he’s way more cooperative with her killing him than he reasonably should be, but like, he still wants to be left to cause as much destruction and death as he wants to cause without her getting in the way of his sacred duty)

What do they disagree about the most?

I mean “Mehrunes Dagon and Molag Bal good” vs. “Haha what the fuck” is pretty much most of what it boils down to. He’s trying so hard to get her on board but all of his arguments for why everyone should be worshipping Mehrunes Dagon and Molag Bal sound like complete nonsense to anyone who isn’t super deep into them already.

She’s not about to give him up to the Ordinators, she doesn’t care about that because who cares about heresy, but this is clearly a part of himself that’s extremely self destructive and making him miserable and his Masters won’t even let him think about how fucked up his relationship with them is and how much it’s hurting him. It’s hard to watch.

How much personal space do they keep with each other?

A respectful distance until they’re alone, and then it’s time to get as close as possible. He likes to sneak up on her when she’s reading or working to give her a kiss or to nuzzle on her.

How good/awful would they be at going undercover as family members or a couple?

I don’t think they’re all that good at pretending not to be a couple once they get together. And they probably do have to pretend to not be into each other because one of them is a respected wizard of House Telvanni and the other is an extremely dangerous criminal who is technically her slave. It doesn’t help that Zirseth doesn’t care about propriety or toning it down literally ever in any company because he knows when to lie and this isn’t when to lie. (The time to lie is when the Lord of Lies tells you to, at which point you lie because you believe what he says as truth because in that moment it is truth)

What do they trust each other with?

Probably too much, considering that they shouldn’t trust each other at all.

How would each react if the other died?

I mean the first time around he overreacted to the prospect of her death by making a deal with Mehrunes Dagon that involved killing all their friends and neighbors and well, uh, yeah. He’d do it again. He’d do it a thousand times again, and in a way, he already has.

This particular incarnation is weird because Zirseth becomes immortal and Mehra dies of old age, I assume. The question is, after Zirseth becomes a vampire, does he ever track her down, break into her house and offer to bite her and make her a vampire too? He would, if he thought that he could be trusted around her without hurting her, especially since he has a tendency to intentionally starve himself to induce a state of out of control bloodlust to better commune with Molag Bal’s perfect will, which means that turning vampires on purpose is hard because he’ll just drink them dry without being able to stop himself. But also it’d be super reasonable for Mehra to not be okay with him showing up unannounced at 4 am, giving no explanation for why he left her or where he’s been all these years except that he’s a vampire now and the Molag Bal thing has only gotten worse and tell him to get out before she calls the Ordinators for real this time

Either way he probably learns that she dies several years after the fact and he doesn’t handle the news well, but there’s no one to kill and he wasn’t there to do anything about it and he probably gets even more unhinged for a while. The one person that he’s ever really cared about spent a life without him and was better off for it. Now he has nothing to distract him from his Masters’ commands. People break and leave and die, but they are always with him. It was foolish of him to get attached to a mortal person in the first place.

What’s the biggest thing they have in common?

Intertwined souls, an ancient oath and an instinctive power over flames. (Though in DND terms, Mehra’s a Sorcerer, Zirseth’s a Warlock.)

Do they routinely compete over anything?

Less compete than experiment? Like they’ll try to do the same thing in different ways and record the results and see who did it the best/most efficiently/most interestingly and see if that holds true over multiple tests and just generally test against each other in the interest of science.

Who’s physically stronger and how does it influence how they interact?

They’re both spindley magic nerds so I’m not sure? I mean the fact that Mehra’s stronger magically does affect their interactions in that Mehra can just take any fire that Zirseth conjures and make it work for her instead of him. He finds this both awe-inspiring and a little unsettling. He obeys the flames, but they obey her, so what does that mean for him?

Who wins at chess?

It probably gets pretty intense but on the whole, Mehra, since he gets impatient and that sometimes causes him to act rashly.

Who wins at video games?

Zirseth tends to fuck around and just do things because it’s funny to him, and doesn’t have a ton of interest in games that have a point to them. Like he’s really into making weird structures in Minecraft or scorning one of his neighbors for no reason in Animal Crossing or making a horrible dystopia in SimCity. So in a competitive game he’ll probably lose super badly until he finds some bizarre exploit and breaks the game with it.

Would they be able to succeed at some intensely cooperative task together?

Mmmm probably? It depends on how the Masters feel about him doing that particular thing and how much his tendency to sabotage things just ‘cause would get in the way. (He’s an enormous shit in coop games because he thinks it’s funny)

What happens if you abandon the pair in the wilderness together?

Zirseth is actually pretty good at wilderness survival, since he’s had to survive out away from civilization on his own a lot, so he’d happily do all the work and they’d get by. It’s not going to be comfortable because he’s insufferable and puts a low premium on comfort. If anything, the cold ground is good, actually! Reminds you that there is only one true way to always be warm, and that the cold in your body is meaningless compared to the fire in your soul!

If they are on opposite sides of a conflict, how would they interact if they were on the same side? If they’re on the same side, how would they interact if they were on opposite sides?

I’m pretty sure they count as being on opposing sides of a long, cosmic conflict between two immortal deities of varying degrees of maliciousness.

I can imagine one of their incarnations where they both sort of work it out. I imagine that they’re both Ashlander, she’s a Wise Woman and he’s a brash Gulakhan and Azura just straight up tells her everything and she tells Zirseth and it’s early enough and she’s respected enough that he believes her and keeps an eye out for Dagon’s influence over his mind and actions and with her help, mostly keeps it under control and doesn’t ever turn to him more than absolutely necessary. At some point Mehrunes Dagon tells him he’s going to have to destroy more stuff to keep up his end of the bargain and they do that by just being extremely explosive to the tribe’s enemies, but not even that much more aggressive. He dies valiantly defending his people but there’s always the thought that maybe he was a lot more reckless than he needed to be because he was getting tired of constantly second guessing his thoughts and impulses just so that he wouldn’t destroy everything he loved.

On the other hand, Daedric High Priestess Mehra and the two of them run a cult that demolishes the entire world. Just imagine! We have always worked better together, my love! We are connected by flame and we should be together in flame! We should have never been apart, not when there’s so much we can do for Him! What are these people worth to you? They are insects, nothing, you and I and Him, we’re what’s real! We’re what matters!

What’s the worst thing one could say to the other? What’s the best thing?

I mean Zirseth doesn’t say it to her, but he chose his Princes over her. He chooses them over her almost every time. He doesn’t have to outright say it when he’s made it clear with his actions. Also “I’ll do anything for you” comes across way more sinister when that includes murdering a ton of people without even asking her about it, but does not include defying Mehrunes Dagon even in a minor way when that’s the one thing she actually wants.

And the worst thing Mehra can say was already said thousands of years and hundreds of lifetimes ago; she’ll stop him every time. No matter how much she loves him, she can’t let him go on like this. He’s wrong, other people do matter and are not there just to be toys for evil destruction gods. He shouldn’t have to go along with that and internalize that.

The best thing would be if Zirseth promised Mehra just one, last, quiet life. He’ll give up on the Mehrunes Dagon thing and she can give up on the Azura thing and they can break out of this cycle and let it end on a high note. No one knows like she does that sometimes, if it all goes right, one lifetime is enough.

And for Zirseth, he’d like nothing more than to hear Mehra pledge herself to the Masters by his side. That they’ll never have to come between the two of them again because they are united in service to their wills. That they can be together forever, as Mehrunes Dagon has always promised him they could be, if only she bows before him. Why would she want anything else?

#replies #thievesguilding #oc: zirseth salothan #long post #on mobile and shpuld put it behind a read more once i have that ability again #anyway this pairing is great its totally not fucked up at all

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 226: Oh Shit We’re Caught Up

Previously on BnHA: The still-captured Giran warned Re-Des that the League wasn’t going to give a shit about rescuing him, and reminded him that if the League sicced a Noumu on the Army they were as good as dead. But Re-Des was all “nah they don’t have any Noumus to sic at the moment” and give an annoyingly thorough summary of his deductive reasoning. Meanwhile in the town, Kizuki, a.k.a. the Rita Skeeter of BnHA, pestered Toga for an interview. She seemed to have done her research, too -- she knew Toga’s age, and that she ran away from home after graduating middle school. None of Toga’s friends or family saw it coming, apparently, and Kizuki -- whose quirk allows her to turn anything she touches into a bomb -- wanted to know the deal. She allowed Toga to suck up some of her subordinates’ blood, then promptly exploded it. She then asked Toga why she’d abandoned her normal life. In response, Toga smiled one of her crazy smiles and was all “a normal life? what’s that?” Lol okay. Anyway, the last few pages were peppered with as-yet-unexplained flashback scenes, so I’m guessing we’re about to find out just what makes this girl tick at long last.

Today on BnHA: We explore Toga’s backstory in a series of flashbacks. Basically her quirk gave her a fascination for blood which her quirk counseling never properly addressed, and so one day she just snapped and killed a dude. But she was such a cute little kid though. Whatever Toga I still love you. Anyway, so back in the present, Kizuki tries to psychoanalyze Toga and makes her out to be a victim of a society that doesn’t have a place for her. Kizuki says that Toga will become a martyr for the Liberation Army’s cause. But Toga is all “fuck that” and breaks free of Kizuki’s clutches, transforming into Ochako using the last of the blood she took back during the forest arc. Kizuki mocks the seemingly useless transformation, stating that she knows Toga can only change her appearance on the outside. Unfortunately for Kizuki, this isn’t entirely the case, as it’s revealed that while transformed, Toga is able to use the quirks of whoever she turns into. She proceeds to float Kizuki way up into the air and then release her, splattering her onto the ground. Like, she’s definitely dead now, oh shit. Anyways so it’s pretty awesome, albeit grisly as all heck. Now to wait for the rest of the League to follow suit and kick some Liberation Army ass.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 226, which, wait, this is chapter 226. Oh shit lol. But I’m posting this a week after I first read the chapter so any ETAs will reflect that.)

okay so we’re opening with a flashback to a news story or something?

injured but didn’t kill? that doesn’t sound like the Toga we all know and love :’)

hey what the

is Toga not her real name??? didn’t we get confirmation from Gran Torino back during the Pizza Delivery mission? what’s up with that

(ETA: this is really weird, though. they never once refer to her by name during any of the flashback scenes. maybe this is just for stylistic purposes? I don’t think her name is supposed to be any sort of big secret but who knows?)

anyway so yeah

that just means she lub him, guys. that’s just how she is. poor Saito

(ETA: btw Caleb Cook pointed out on his Twitter that this looks to be the Deku lookalike from the previous chapter. so if he was one of AFO’s kids, that’s kind of interesting that AFO had no issue with Tomura hiring his son’s killer later on. I don’t personally think there was any AFO relation though.)

oh wow

rude. that’s my best girl you’re talking about. she’s just a little vampirish, what? Vlad King can make people’s blood fucking do tricks, and you don’t see anyone accusing *him* of being devil spawn. smh

awwwww

cats do this all the time and people fucking love cats! I’m telling you, these are double standards!

oh hey we’re back in the present

so Kizuki is all “so you think you’re living normally? lol you weirdo” basically

and she’s looking at the smiling blood-covered Toga and is all “so this is your ‘true face’“

she’s calling her “the very embodiment of the dark side of superhuman society.” girl what

okay look, I’m not saying Toga doesn’t have a screw or two loose. and yes, she is very fond of blood. but if we’re going to call someone the literal embodiment of the dark side of society then can I interest you in a few other choice candidates, though?? Toga is what we like to call Mostly Evil. there’s a big difference between Mostly Evil and All Evil! Mostly Evil is Slightly Good! whereas with All Evil, well, with All Evil there’s usually only one thing you can do. (accuse them of being the protagonist’s Secret Dad.)

anyways

nooooo my sweet demented child is coughing and teetering onto the ground

jesus it’s almost like she’s been FUCKING BLOWN UP FROM THE INSIDE OUT good grief

and now Kizuki is all “you poor thing.” hey Kizuki you can fuck off right now thanks

HEY

LADY UNLESS YOU WANT TO CATCH THESE HANDS YOU HAD BETTER STEP AWAY FROM MY POOR HURT CHILD AND STOP TOUCHING HER FUCKING FACE

-- oh shit, though!!

[flips open notebook; clicks pen] don’t mind me lady please continue

I mean, I would imagine one of the goals of the program would be to embrace the fact that you’re different. that’s hardly an isolating thing in a society like this one where everyone is so unique that the established word for their superpowers literally means “individuality”

(ETA: on a reread, it actually sounds like the program is intended to do just the opposite of that and the goal is to get everyone to fit in. how the hell they expect to accomplish that in a society where everyone has wacky abilities is beyond me! no wonder the program has issues if this really is the case though.)

but anyways I’m sorry to interrupt, please keep talking about quirk counseling and how it didn’t work for Toga while I sit here and quietly take my notes

you guys oh no she’s too damn cute. I can’t

oh boy

?? and why the hell not, though? sure it might freak some people out that she likes her steaks a little rarer than most, but I don’t see why they couldn’t have accommodated this the same as any other quirk. people donate blood all the time; couldn’t she have gotten a legal supply for her own medical needs? the live animals and such are a bit weird, true, but again, it’s not all that different from what your cat would get up to given half the chance. I feel like they could have found other outlets for her to channel some of that bloodlust, while helping to sate any physical cravings with the aforementioned donated blood supply. if you ask me, whoever counseled her dropped the ball honestly

(ETA: and her parents, too. this makes me want to rewatch the first season of Dexter actually. too bad Toga’s parents weren’t like Dexter’s dad.)

anyway let’s watch society fail poor Toga

well that didn’t take long

see this seriously doesn’t make any sense to me though. IT’S QUIRK SOCIETY, GUYS. NO ONE IS FUCKING NORMAL. WHY CAN’T YOU BE BETTER PARENTS. HOW ABOUT THAT ONE THOUGH

I honestly can’t decide if I’m glad we got more insight into Toga’s headspace, or annoyed that they went and gave her Secret Angst. the problem is I don’t think she needed Secret Angst in order to be a good character, or a likable one. I’m not so sure I really like the implication here that It’s Not Toga’s Fault, Because Society Failed Her. like, I’ve talked about my feelings on this kind of thing before. I prefer It Is Her Fault But She Owns It Though. just because I like when characters take responsibility for their own shit and it’s not just excused or handwaved

but on the other hand, Toga is the type of character who doesn’t need redemption so much as rehabilitation. so it is good to get some kind of an idea as to why she went off the rocker, in that respect. idk. I have mixed feelings, maybe by the time I post this recap I’ll have sorted it out more in my head lol

(ETA: yeah so after reflecting on it some more, it’s more like she was always the way she is, and was just repressing it, and then one day got tired of repressing it. being told she should act one way when she felt like her true self was someone totally different. so it’s not really “society fucked her up” so much as “she was already a little kooky and they just failed to properly address it until it was too late.” so that’s fine, I guess. it’s about what I expected. and hey, at least we got some cute Baby Toga scenes out of the bargain, so.)

anyway now Toga’s making to stab Kizuki and shouting at her to shut up. oh damn

OH DAMN

(ETA: oh you might want to be careful with that Detnerat merch though, lady. seems to be on par with Hammer Tech in terms of reliability.)

DID YOU BLOW UP TOGA’S FUCKING FACE HOLY FUCK

HOLY SHIT SHE REALLY DID

if that’s the case then why are you guys trying to kill her

oh for fuck’s

said sacred text will gloss over exactly how she died though, I suppose? you guys are such fucking hypocrites. you act like you’re the saviors of the world bringing freedom to everyone, but those ideals only seem to hold up so long as they’re convenient. “blah blah blah society is so evil and doesn’t care about people like you. meanwhile we will straight up murder your ass, but never fear, your death will help ensure that no one else has to endure the cruelty of this apathetic world”

like, imagine beating someone with a stick, while screaming at them about how society wants to beat them with a lot more sticks just like this, but not to worry though because their death will make sure no more people get beaten to death with sticks by society. I’m really bad with metaphors you guys, but do you feel me though? just, fuck these guys so hard

I like that Kizuki apparently seems to think Toga is actually dead, though, because honestly. she should be, lol

...or maybe she doesn’t think that, because now she’s asking Toga to correct her if she made any mistakes with her conjectures

and Toga is rolling out of her grasp and ducking off!

GO TOGA!! RUN LIKE THE WIND! I DON’T LIKE HER EITHER! EXACTLY, YOU’RE NOT UNFORTUNATE, THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING. she’s trying to make you out to be some helpless little victim, but it’s like, bitch, she chose to be evil in order to live her best life so go fuck yourself

TOGAAAAAA

THANK YOU!!! FUCK OFF WITH THAT SECRET ANGST BULLSHIT. STOP ACCUSING HER OF FAKING IT LIKE YOU KNOW HER SO DAMN WELL

she says that just as everyone else kisses people that they like, she sucks blood from the people she likes

EYYYYYYYYY

YESSSSSSSSS TOGA THIS IS WHY YOU’RE MY BEST GIRL

oh my god. okay so someone sent me an anon ask early Thursday afternoon (ETA: this was last Thursday April 25; I read the chapter on the 26th) to the effect of “the mystery has been solved; she CAN use quirks”, so I’m getting an inkling that we’re about to see Toga do some zero gravity bullshit and I’m here for it. but unfortunately I’m spoiled for it. please give me time to read the new chapters when they come out, guys. since I’m writing down my reactions, I’m not able to just read the manga on my phone as soon as chapters come out; the whole process takes me a good hour or two usually, and I prefer to read on my computer since the keyboard comes in handy when I’m typing out a novel in response to whatever bullshit is happening lol. so with work and everything, that usually means I don’t get around to it until the late afternoon/evening most of the time

anyways I know I probably sound bitchy but it’s not really a big deal. but I just wanted to bring this up now, because if and when Horikoshi finally reveals Kacchan’s hero name 17 years from now and I get spoiled on that before I read it, that’ll be a different story lol. I will rampage, guys. or more likely I’ll just learn to turn my asks off on Thursdays and Fridays until the chapter is read! anyways!

-- hold up, quick question, can Toga heal herself by transforming into someone else?? it just occurred to me, and I need to know right this instant

so Kizuki is all “I see, you keep a stock of blood!” and I was like “duh” but then I remembered Kizuki didn’t read the Basement arc. so

oh

well that answers that. shoot

-- except hold up, again! because Spoiled Me knows that’s not actually the case! she can use quirks too! so maybe it can heal her. I mean, this lady didn’t even know until one chapter ago that Toga used blood to transform, so I don’t know where she’s getting all this “I’m well aware!” bullshit from. you don’t know shit

so she’s laughing and mocking Toga and saying she probably just wanted to look cute when she dies

...I mean, I was about to get indignant, but in all honestly why did Toga transform into her though?

so basically she transformed into her because she envies her? is that why she listed her on her list of People She Officially Likes?

but her saying that she wants to get closer to the person she loves makes me think she hasn’t given up. if she’s anything like All Might (you know, because everyone is always comparing Toga to All Might), thinking about Izuku is probably helping motivate her to stay alive!

lol, yep

and oh shit I think the thing is happening!!

holy fucking shit, wait up. I was all “so what, she’s going to float her to death?” and then it all of a sudden occurred to me just how fucking deadly Ochako’s power actually is, which I never thought about before because this deadly power was safely in the hands of the sweetest, kindest girl in existence who’s never tried to use it for anything remotely sinister aside from that one time she tried to crush Bakugou with hundreds of rocks

but like, she could float her all the way out into space, if she wanted! but the much more likely option, especially given that this is a series where falling from things actually hurts, is that she could simply float her up and then fucking splatter her on the ground holy shit

aaaaaaand up she goes!

yeah that’s right lady. “only her appearance changes” my ass

holy shit

SHE’S ALREADY SO HIGH, HOLY FUCK THIS IS TERRIFYING SHE REALLY IS GOING TO DROP HER ISN’T SHE

now she’s running around and tagging all the rest of them too!

holy shit!!!! I can’t! my brain’s going like a mile a minute because not only did Toga just get 1000% deadlier, but Ochako did too, retroactively! and just, so much newfound respect and awe for my girls

HOLY SHIT

SHE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW??! you seriously never once realized this this entire time??

quirk counseling has failed her in more ways than one. she could have gone to U.A.! she could have made an amazing hero. honestly she still could aside from the fact that she doesn’t want to. (and also, y’know. the murders. and such)

ahhhh now she’s coughing up blood, so I guess that’s a no on the “can she heal” question then

honestly that makes no sense if it only transforms her on the outside. half of the outside is based off of what’s inside! if you’re changing appearances that should mean your entire body transforms. particularly if she can use quirks! it means her DNA is transforming too

but whatever, for the sake of enjoying the story I’ll just shut up about this now though

anyway so Kizuki is all “it can’t be”, just as thousands of villains have said before her, usually immediately after it was incontrovertibly proven to them that Yes It Can Be Though

she’s asking if Ochako’s quirk got stronger just now because of her fear of death

and Toga is all “nope”

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT

SHE DID FUCKING SPLATTER HER, HOLY SHIT!? HORIKOSHI “LET’S CHOP OFF ALL FIVE OF HIS FINGERS!” KOUHEI STRIKES AGAIN

and fucking lol at Toga thinking she’s just like Izuku because her body is all beaten up and dying. :’D Deku you’re such a terrible role model

and so I guess she’s fully on board with Tomura’s whole “destroy everything” plan now, then. well shit. I wonder how quickly they’ll be able to heal her up. what with her being so absurdly powerful all of a sudden, I wonder if her injuries will have a lasting effect on her ability to use her quirk, similar to what happened to Aizawa after USJ. might be a good idea honestly

lastly, “cute is evil” makes absolutely no sense, but damned if I’m not 100% on board with that slogan. just something about it that I like. or maybe it’s just due to the context here, lol. whatever it is, I’d buy a coffee mug with that printed on it

and here we go. so that’s it for new chapters until May 10th or thereabouts. if only there was something coming out in the interim that could tide my superhero cravings over. like a new Avengers movie or some shit. lol

(ETA: I have to hand it to Endgame, it’s done its job distracting me and then some. I’ve seen it twice now and it’s just as devastating the second time! I’m just about finished working my way through the five stages of grief now though, so we’re good. but now that I’m done wallowing, I need my villain arc to come along and cheer me up again. come on Tomura. do your thing boy.)

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 226 #toga himiko #uraraka ochako #lol sort of #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #methinks it's time to go back and figure out how many different people's blood toga has collected #the only two I can think of off the top of my head are deku and camie #the latter is probably a non-issue since she only had an infinitesimal amount #and in all likelihood she'd run into the same problem as monoma if she tried to duplicate ofa #camie on the other hand is a whole different can of worms #she could potentially do *so much damage* you guys #and who knows how much blood she has since she had her in captivity for days #this is a potential gamechanger as far as villain plans go #can't wait to see what they get up to after this arc

[ophelia-thinks]

do whichever ones you want obvs: top 5 farscape moments, top 5 w359 episodes, top 5 times black sails invented gay rights, top 5 colors, top 5 poems as of right now-ish

lkajsdf you KNOW ME these are literally all so good

i’m just gonna do the first two rn because this is already. very long.

top 5 farscape moments:

welcome to my cold war! peak john crichton/john crichton manifesto. i know i’ve already made approximately 200 posts about this specific scene & there’s not much more i can say about it without sounding like a broken record but oh i adore it so much. all those shots of him from below, the camera distorting his height, obscuring his face, letting him have the power back, if only for a moment. even when the national anthem plays it isn’t mocking him.

in the first part of “into the lion’s den” when braca’s giving crais shit about being a defector (kinda. i think the peacekeepers’ cruelty to him in ITLD is less about Betrayal and more about Failure but that’s another post.) and crais just goes “you are a consummate peacekeeper.” i think you can draw a straight line from the look on braca’s face when he says that to his decision to remain loyal to scorpius, even long after there’s ceased to be anything in it for him. like you don’t expect him to get it at all, but he does, he takes it exactly how crais meant it, and then like half a season later scorpius is the one who’s fallen from power and braca’s staging a coup against pk leadership. “you are a consummate peacekeeper” is braca’s “you can be more” and if that’s not the saddest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever heard. god.

…and maybe it was a kind of catalyst for crais, too. i’m obsessed with the scene right before he suicide-bombs the base, when he tells john what he’s going to do. “i do. i will. i hope you can believe that.” i love it when john’s torturers fall in love with him. (honorable mention is the crais/aeryn scene in “the choice.” the way he looks at her and the way he looks at john… the way he closes his eyes when she touches him, every time. i want to claw my eyes out.)

“everything old is new again.” i have this thing about how the ending of “la bomba” should’ve been the last scene of the entire series. not that there isn’t shit that i love in pkw, but there’s something really perfect about john confessing his sins to aeryn like he’s asking for her forgiveness—except he isn’t, they’re on totally equal footing, there’s not even such a thing as the moral high ground in their world anymore. this is just… who he is now. what he is. and she loves him; that’s his happy ending. that’s all you get, and it is still the last thing in the universe left sacred.

every single time chiana and john stand close to each other i feel like i am staring into the face of god.

top 5 w359 episodes:

VARIATIONS ON A THEME. lovelace back in that same old haunted house with a brand-new haunted body. she’s basically just raised a middle finger to the universe and yelled ISABEL LOVELACE WAS HERE! and resurrection is a curse, a fuck you right back. lovelace is crichton at the end of the line, she’s ripley in Aliens, she’s everyone’s final girl—bluebeard’s eighth wife, the one who figured out where all the ghosts were hidden and even now still hears them beating against the walls. the only part of her story that survived was the monster; everything else is just… static.

HAPPY ENDINGS. guys, this episode fucks. it has everything. lovelace pumping iron at 2 in the morning. hilbert being like “i found the bomb you’re secretly building on the space station we’re all trapped on. do you want some fertilizer?” when she calls him a cockroach and he calls her Isabel. more Farscape 359 #cinematic parallels: hilbert “begging” for her forgiveness a la scorpius in pkw; cutter’s fake personality chip unveiling the w359-verse version of the Aurora chair. “this is a dark room. if you put a gun to my head i might even say… a very dark room.” exactly the kind of brutal tragicomic character-driven “holy shit, what’s that noise?” episode w359 excels at.

DIRTY WORK. easily the worst thing about jacobi is that in a lot of ways maxwell was the best thing that ever happened to him, and this is the episode where they just completely pull back the curtain and force you to deal with that, and not even in like a cutesy “banter between bad guys played for laughs” way, but in a much deeper, sadder, “he loved her so much he can’t even justify to her killer what his grief for her makes him do” way. it’s actually also one of my favorite minkowski-and-lovelace episodes, even tho their relationship isn’t the focus: “oh, i knew we forgot about something!”

MUTUALLY ASSURED DESTRUCTION. the return of captain isabel lovelace. she didn’t ask to be this horror story’s beating heart, but the simple act of her survival blows the narrative wide open. nothing was ever the same again. the fact that it’s a very deliberate homage to the aforementioned “welcome to my cold war” scene from Farscape is something i’ve been working into every conversation i’ve ever had since the november of 2015.

THINGS THAT BREAK OTHER THINGS. approximately once a month i remember “who wouldst thou serve?” / “you.” and i just go absolutely apeshit. kepler thinking he’s fuckin 007 bribing the bartender to get jacobi’s attention. jacobi: “sir, you left your card here! with your name and number on it!” [minkowski in Constructive Criticism voice] “hey, jacobi, how did you end up in the terrorism division of the world’s most evil megacorporation?” jacobi [vivid flashback to kepler hitting on him at a bar and jacobi drunkenly trying to impress him by telling him about how good he is at mass murder] “…i’m not at liberty to say.”

#toomanyfeelings5 #welcome to my cold war #mankind's greatest contribution to the absurd #thank you!!!!

[glorioussimon]

underappreciated things about rise 1x09: totally hosed

i love this episode

lou doing yoga

mr kranepool told him about it

gordy’s not a fan

the mazzus are so sad when maashous tells them that he’s leaving

sadie :(

simon looks at his family completely differently now 

tracey wanting to keep working with lou even though he’s lou

this is the point when mama who bore me started to get a little excessive

jeremy has a polar bear wearing sunglasses on his shirt and i can’t tell if it’s blessed or cursed

lilette just being interrupted in the middle of her song

i love this episode because of the troupe awkwardly just being there during like three of lou and tracey’s arguments

also sasha has her arm around michael’s shoulders

evan’s list for spring awakening is just. it’s certainly something

when robbie’s visiting his mom for the first time this episode he looks less happy and more scared

robbie wanting his mom to be there on opening night

robbie’s face when his mom says that she’ll come when she’s feeling better

gwen’s smile when gordy is introduced to the troupe

gordy looks so awkward i love it

everyone cheering at the first full runthrough

but if this is the first full run through what were they doing in episode 7?

lexi blaming herself for the petition

why does jeremy wear a suit here but a hoodie in the final performance. why couldn’t he keep the suit he looks so good

jolene coming up with totally fricked

“there will be other-” “censorship?” “...tweaks.” simon saunders i would die for you

jeremy and francis look so pissed when ms wolfe stops lilette

also i think they’re sharing a chair which is cute

i really like the set for dark i know well with the railroad tracks on the ground

also their version of it is. really dramatic and idk how i feel about that

“i thought you said the text was sacred. that we have to utter every syllable the playwright writes.” i love you lilette

the totally fricked montage is still the best thing to come out of this show

also i just realized that francis plays both herr knochenbruch (i know that i didn’t spell that right) and georg so wtf does he do during this song. does he go change his clothes really quickly when robbie starts singing or do we all just pretend not to notice that one of the adult men is singing georg’s solo

robbie rolling his eyes during totally confused. i’ve never noticed it before and it’s the funniest thing in the world to me

francis trying not to laugh during totally blue

maashous looking so exhausted the whole time

and then him facepalming in the background after totally messed up

lou watching while gwen and gordy talk

“why are you volunteering here?” “i just love theater”

lilette saying that robbie’s dad hates her. the worst part is she’s probably right

i think that vanessa and lilette have both said “i’m a big girl i can handle myself” at different points in the show, which is interesting

SIMON SINGING WOYBR WHILE HE DOES HIS HOMEWORK I’M GOING TO FUCKING CRY

if i ever have to see emma sad again i’m going to break my tv screen

simon telling emma that she can come live with him if their parents ever get divorced

mama strickland being so salty about having to change lilette’s dress

i love that she asked how lilette’s doing with everything that’s going on with coach and vanessa. she’s the only adult to really realize how much this has a toll on lilette and gwen and i like that about her

“you have a light. you shine.”

why is the jukebox on the stage during dark i know well what purpose does it serve

have we just decided to ignore francis and clark’s adult men wigs

i like how they have the rest of the cast walking around in the background during dark i know well like they’re not seeing/ignoring martha and ilse’s abuse

“i want to want you i don’t want to need you” fuck yes lilette

the troupe coming out of the wings to watch tracey and lou argue about the beating scene is a mood

“tiny, tiny, TINY CHANGES”

gwen and gordy glancing at each other and smirking

“you can beat her. just...like it less”

kaitlin is so excited for next year when she can be in the play and now i’m just sad

she’s so worried about maashous

“i hate her. i don’t know her, but i hate her”

lou telling gail about gordy and gwen

he doesn’t want gordy to get his heart broken

gail was out of lou’s league

simon’s dad is so cold. it reminds me of how simon acts with jeremy or  whenever he closes himself off

simon’s face when his dad says “compromises”

and especially when his dad says that someday simon will have to make the same compromises

bitch of living playing in the background

the transition from simon praying to singing. you can really tell that the stage is where simon feels the most free and that’s one of the reasons why he’s so pissed about the changes - because something’s threatening that.

the fact that ‘bitch’ wasn’t on evan’s swear list so they just go for it

the girls are getting so into it i love them so much

francis didn’t have to go that hard during his solo but he did and i’d like to thank him for it

rise remains the only production that i know of where we have physically seen grossenbustenhalter (i know that i didn’t spell that right) during bitch of living. i don’t know how to feel about this

when i had pneumonia i spent an entire day on the couch rewatching rise on hulu and when i got to this scene my dad was in the kitchen nearby so i just. turned the volume way down to avoid questions

it’S THE BITCH OF LIVING AND SENSING THIS IS BAD

michael and jeremy look so tired of this

why did we even have to cut francis’s solo it doesn’t technically break any of evan’s rules

lou really doesn’t want to say breasts

“you and your....piano teacher”

i remember being so surprised that simon said “ass” because he just doesn’t seem like the type

michael just standing on the chair in the background with his arms crossed

this is my favorite scene in the series and You Will Know About It

this is so important to simon and it’s just falling apart. just like his family, just like his whole life right now.

there’s nothing that simon values more than the truth, his truth, and he doesn’t want to keep hiding it from everyone, most of all himself. that’s why he doesn’t want to make compromises in spring awakening or in his own life.

jeremy’s expression when simon says that his family is falling apart

simon’s literal mic drop

you can see him wiping away tears when he walks off stage

sasha looks so shocked and it’s the funniest fucking thing

lilette going after him. idk if this was a deleted scene or not but i would kill to see that conversation

if i ever see francis look that sad again i’m going to personally fight jason katims with my own two fists

“set up for scene five” *no one moves* “SCENE FIVE” *michael quickly steps off of the chair*

gordy and lou stress eating together at the diner

gordy calling simon “that simon kid”

lou calling himself cool and gordy just laughing at him

tbh lou and gail are a Good pair of heterosexuals

robbie’s hands shaking when he’s talking with the nurse

kaitlin’s cute space buns and galaxy leggings

i’m going to tattoo maashous was here over my heart. you know the heart that he broke

robbie nearly being in tears when he asks his mom to come to opening night

amazing grace.

the contrast between lilette and her mom and robbie and his mom. lilette’s mom is gone because of her own decision, robbie’s mom is leaving against her will

enough games where the fuck is damon j gillespie’s emmy

rilette just holding onto each other

why am i so emotional about these straight fifteen year olds

“i’ve never felt so close to someone” end my life!!!

jeremy asking simon if he’s okay

i unironically love jeremy’s skater boy outfit

simon’s voice cracking when he talks about the bomb inside of him

both of the boys have tears in their eyes and i’m :(

you know that meme of the dude carrying the giant oscar on his shoulder? that’s me giving ted sutherland and sean grandillo their emmys

where the fuck is the rest of their conversation why does nbc hate us so much

gordy not giving up on gwen

on the aforementioned pneumonia day my dad was in the room with me when gordy said that gwen was pretty stalkable and i remember that his exact words were “what the fuck?”

kaitlin pulling up the adoption website and putting the computer in front of her mom is such a power move i love her

lou’s eye roll during censored dark i know well

what did the censored song even sound like i can’t think of a way to make it not about sexual abuse

yeah yOU’RE HOSED ALRIGHT

evan loves totally hosed

the troupe listening in on the final argument of the night

i would like to call specific attention to michael starting to leave before lou even says anything, simon and lilette sharing the chair, and francis doing it to em

you can see that maashous is still there as the argument continues. i bet he knows all the tea

this is the last episode that we watched before knowing about the cancellation wow i’m sad

next post: i die

#rise nbc #rise #underappreciated things #aj.txt

[spiritcc]

Got it ol in me ded moroz bag, eNJOY THE INFO DUMP, CHILDREN.

1. Andrey Mironov and his Interesting Facts 

Lemme not be original and recite the facts that might just as well be very-well known but I myself constantly forget about these:

The dude suffered from skin boils (furuncles) all over his body: this is one of the reasons he always wore these never-ending turtlenecks, it was just a way to hide the skin horrors. Those fuks also hurt af which bothered Mironov’s stage partners and friends in scenes where he’d have to fall and/or get caught by other people, because that they’d have to grab all his 20359582 sore spots and deliver The Pain. Obvs they’d be like m8 lets just change this scene but Mironov insisted to do it for The Art, so all they were left with was to figure out how to grab him today to lessen the pain. 

The dude got one real daughter and one fake daughter (stepdaughter ok ok), both were named Maria, which never fails to entertain me whenever pics of both of them show up and ppl are like HECK YEA MASHAS!!! WAIT WHICH MASHA IS THIS??? The fake daughter recently split up from Livanov’s murder son which is a shame imo, it really looked like there was something good going on but alas.

Mironov was the epitome of YOLO, in a positive way, all Mironov and His Friends ever cared about is how to make money and have a grand time, bc nobody was ever rich in the USSR and tbh not that happy either. They can and they WILL get across half of Russia on a scooter to make a show for the grandmas of the Meat Processing Factory No. 425 for em sweet sweet 100 roubles, the absolute SLÜTE for the cash and vodka, jump in for the Good Kush and do not look back. The shite they did on their international theater tours is something else entirely, ma dudes, but basically: THEY WILL EAT YOUR CROPS, STEAL THE FOOD FROM SQUIRRELS, BEG STRANGERS FOR MONEY, DO A GROUP PISSING.

The betch was a constant victim of pranks: whether it was from Livanov and his canteen sausages, or his bffs Shirvindt and Derzhavin who packed his bag for his honeymoon with bricks and a portrait of Lenin, but the pranking shitstorm was relentless and neverending and it looks like Mironov took it all with a big ol face of :’)

2. The most dramatic celebrity romance

I think we can agree it’s them fucking Vladimir Vysotsky and Marina Vlady, my gOD how fucknig dramatic and inflated and over-exposed and fucking overrated, the meaning of DRAMA itself. Yall know how much the government LOATHED every single breath Vysotsky took anyways, thenks to his poetry/songs that rightfully shat all over the most prominent aspects of living in the USSR, so the guy was rolling in constant drama 24/7 as it was, bUT THEN! He just HAD to get involved with a French fucking actress and make it serious: cue the absolute shitshow of them trying to get married, then an even bigger shitshow of Vysotsky getting so fearless he wanted visas to visit his wife in France and he gOT THEM in the end, possibly resulting in the government using his cutouts as target practice. So the betch keeps spitting out his Realest Songs despite them being forbidden, gets a free pass to teh fuckin ABROAD!!!!!! to dick his wife down, and gets away with it ol!!!!! The romance is so fucking shite lmao the gal is still trying to make it out as something Special when the motherfucker was quite openly cheating on her left and right, he literally died with his new burd at his bed (i am so sorry yarmolnik’s wife i luv ur husband and i hope yall still happy together). I think I’ve accidentally read a snippet from her book where she fuckien started describing them FUCKING in some cringy terms i was like hELLO???? THE SHIDD??? Basically, every aspect of Vysotsky’s life and their marriage was always some full-blown drama and tragically enough it still is bc all these other fucks are still alive and throbbing for attention i am so tired.

However, I cannot not include a VERY HONOURABLE ADDITION of uuh ~somewhat” celebs because this romance was GOOD, AND VERY GOOD, AND EXTREMELY GOOD!!!!! 

Fucking Brian Grover and Elena Golius in 1938, the absolute mad lads. We have a luv story of an English engineer and some Russian gal who fell in love despite the very real fears in the current regime and all, and despite the gal being woke enough to try and dodge such a potential death sentence on her ass, but Grover’s intentions were good and pure and serious so the otp became canon. The dude was such a sicc engineer he got actually nationwide famous thanks to his sicc good actions during some oil rig explosion disaster, which did make him a celeb I guess. After that the gal felt safe enough to confess her luv and get married but SYKE LOL good luck with that in the fucking 1930s! So Grover came up with a Cunning Plan where he just quit his job, bought an old truck and hid the gal between flour bags, transported her to Moscow and they somehow managed to get married there, bUT SYKE AGAIN!! He had to come back to England one day and when he wanted to return back to Russia TOUGH LUCK LOL THE POLITICAL SITUATION HAS CHANGED UR BLOCKED BETCH BYE. The wife pleads the government and is told to get fuck’d, she applies for a visa and gets fuck’d, the husband accepts a job in Persia and works there for five years in hopes that the country has sum Right People to help him get in Russia, but no luck. Finally, the wife writes to him that’s all lost and rip and they should just forget it all, and this is where Grover goes :) 

One day a nice man shows up at London’s flying school asking for a pilot’s license, to which he obvs gets a rational answer of UH M8 YOU GOTTA COMPLETE THE FLYING COURSE N ALL IT LITERALLY TAKES YEARS TO DO??? and the man says that’s ok :)) i am ready :)) in just under a MONTH he gets his license, and uses his last money to buy an old plane and pay another pilot to accompany him on his Surprise Journey, which was literally FLYING ACROSS THE CONTINENT ILLEGALLY TO RUSSIA TO SEE HIS WIFE. So em fucks buckle up and navigate their way with a help of a fuckigg world map from a high school geography book, it was so cold Grover had to water the fuel meter with hot coffee from his thermos to stop it from freezing, all until they finally ran out of everything and safely crashed SOMEWHERE in Russia. 

So as the shocked as fuck farmers watch an English fucking plane crash in their field, some nice gent crawls out and in broken Russian says something liek Hello I am Brian Grover and I’m Here To See My Wife :)) 

Cue the NKVD prison, the mass coverage from the press, the criminal charges up to 10 years in gulags bc of how many fucking laws he broke, but as it became very clear that his only objective was to see his wife, the court suddenly chilled the fuck out and only ordered him to pay a fine and allowed the luv burds to ~reunite~ while the court cheered. SO BRIAN AND ELENA GOT TOGETHER FOREVA AND HAD TWO KIDS AND LIVED WITH EACH OTHER ALL THEIR LIVES TILL THEY WERE LIKE 90 AND DIED ONE YEAR APART!!!!! 

IF THAT AINT THE MOST DRAMATIC ROMANCE IN THE USSR THEN NOTHING ELSE IS.

3. Goodie actors/Baddie actors

i wallow quite a lot in biographies and autobiographies n all, and from them i certainly learned that no person is just 100% good or evil, like there are always aspects of their lives where they are assholes, but there are always good sides to them as well, so in that conclusive sense of ASSHOLE vs ANGEL, nobody is either. My luv smoktun is a strong power bottom irl but an absolute annoying betch when it comes to The Art, mikhalkov is the fuckin devil child but everybody always praises how good of a director and even a friend he was (NOT ANYMOR HUH), Livanov is always that 50/50 on the pure evil vs goodness good scale, like it’s hard to just pinpoint a BETCH or a UWU. 

But I’ll try and say that on the Bad scale, it’s usually the gals, and Nonna Mordyukova is one of them. Like we have divas, but then there’s this gal where you just never know what she’ll do to you. A nightmare to work with (”mordyuk” the “”swear word””” from the diamond arm is literally Gaidai getting pissed at working with her this much), explosive in life, holding fucking nothing sacred. Varley, her daughter-in-law, was just liek TF 24/7 bc one day the grandson would be her best person ever and then SUDDENLY she’d be like FUCK YOU AND FUCK THIS KID WHO KNOWS WHERE IT CAME FROM!!! despite the kid being a carbon copy of Mordyukova’s son. You’re just constantly at her vague mercy wondering which stars should align today for her to suddenly change your mind about you, like idk what is everybody loving about her but she was a rather heavy and unpleasant person to be around and fuck that. Also, not a good fucking actress. Find me a role where she isn’t playing some Ethnic Slavic Woman. 

As for the Pure Good, we will never have the Pure but the Big Good is Alexander Abdulov. Trust me, this guy sure knows how to tell you to fuck off and push his own self to get something and punch you in the face and even describe how he’s going to dismember you with a straight face (asdfgh it’s a long story), but he was Good. Anything you read about him, all Good, he was a very friendly guy, outgoing, active, kind, made friends with everybody, was an insane workaholic (only managed to work on the wizards during the night bc for the rest of the day he was busy in FOUR OTHER FILMS SIMULTANEOUSLY). I luv his own fake daughter story bc he really did consider Alfyorova’s daughter his own, and he’d fuckin punch you so hard if you tell him otherwise. As he said himself, he knows all her problems, all her interests, all her worries and joys, so she is his 100% no-gmo daughter. aND the fake daughter has an insta n everything and everytime she mentions Dad it’s nothing but love and rainbows and almost a decade later after his death she still cannot bring herself to visit his grave bc she just doesn’t believe that he is truly dead. All of that, mind you, with the fact that abdul and alfyorova split up and he had a family of his own later in life n all, so there was NO obligation for anything at all from either of them and yet still abdul loved her senselessly. She’s ask for a bag of sweets and he’ll get her a fucking truck of these, total mad lads all around. PLUS he was Peltser’s almost fake son she luved him this much, and stories about Peltser indicate that she was One Hell of a woman, and yet even she crumbled before the Good. I’m just never worried when it comes to articles about abdul bc i know it’s either clickbait or something good again. 

THAT’S ALL DED MOROZ HAD IN HIS BAG FOR THESE QUESTIONS, CALL SNEGUROCHKA X3 MORE TIMES TO SUMMON MORE   

#andrey mironov #alexander abdulov #vladimir vysotsky #QUESTION TIM BITCH #ASK MORE MY BALLSACK IS STILL FUL- shouldnt have said that

[mutantmorphingpotions]

The life, death and undeath of Kerrigan

In which we take a moment away from space alien shenanigans to discuss the life and death of a big boy.

Again, I hope you enjoy, this one is much longer, and I always like feed back and commentary.

(3,231 words)

Kerrigan wasn't afraid of dying. He lived in Moltara. The land of industrialism and child labor. Anyone with small enough hands could get a job in the factories.....at the high risk of death. The constant threat of reaching in between the gears of the machinery  or getting sucked in because the edge of your clothing was poking out of your belt and becoming the embodiment of hamburger helper was always a looming thought. He was never scared of the Machinery. He didn't like the noise, but he wasn't afraid of it. 'You just had to watch others make their mistakes and then you never have to make them yourself. ' Was his life long motto. Better to be the second place with both your hands than first place with your family paying for a tombstone.

He wasn't afraid of the Coal Sickness that made children better deserving cough up the thick black ash, laid out on their beds in hospitals. He wasn't afraid of the phosphorous chemical burns, he wasn't afraid of the supervisors with their barking voices and cruel beating sticks. He was worried about going hungry-anxious about his weak mother going without a meal-but never feared it truly

Kerrigan wasn't afraid of the mobs who employed him. First hired him as a driver to move their goods around-illegal things that shouldn't be in a city as hot as it was. The City forbade a lot of things but the Mob didn't care and the citizens didn't care.  He didn't care either.  He never felt an ounce of fear interacting with these men and women in their fine outfits and hidden honeyed words that sounded like one thing but meant another. He was a sucker for those sweet words. They led him to a secret underground world and community, cold and cool compared the rest of this damned hot lava pit that they all had to call him. It was a world of deviancy, debauchery, cheap drinks and violence for sport. He liked that world. It was removed from the Lava Pits and the Craters and the Molten City itself.

He didn't fear hurting others and that's what the bosses liked about him. He didn't feel bad about making idiots who tried to muscle their way in on his boss's turf swallow every tooth they had in their skulls.  He vaguely enjoyed it, using his astounding muscle and strength- built up thru childhood and adolescence working in those mines and machinery-to heft drunks and fools into the air and beat them within inches of their life to remind them of their place. Kerrigan was glad to be the brute. He was good at it and it gave him little risk. Kerrigan was top of the food chain-physically that was. No one was stronger and more violent than he.  He made his way up, to a made man, to Capo and gained people under him to command. Sniveling cowards who feared him and would take out anyone he commanded them to. But he still liked working with his hands. He liked the feeling of blood on his knuckles and the rush in his ears.

He liked the way the boss praised him for his can do attitude and turned to him first for wisdom on how to handle interlopers, business and his thoughts in general. He liked the interest the Boss had in what he had to say and what he thought. He later learned that made him the Underboss, the right hand man, the deputy if you will. Not formally yet-the current Underboss was doing 30 in the clink because he slipped up. They needed someone new. Someone who didn't fuck up. Someone who could see a mistake made by someone else and never repeat it.

'He's grooming you to take your place, baby.' The Boss's wife had cooed to him one evening in the bars after drunkenly musing his confusion of this attentions. 'I wouldn't mind having a place with you any time.'

He never took her up on that offer, he had too much respect and love for the boss, this man who treated him so well, like a son.

Kerrigan never feared the police or the jails. It didn't take him long before taking his place on the top of the food chain there and most of the police in the Lava pits were on the Mob's Payroll to look away. Jail stays were never long-mainly for small misdemeanors like being too loud or public drunkenness. He was pretty sure that all the cops on the straight and narrow thought he was just a local over muscled idiot who got a bit too rowdy at times. People didn't get chances to squeal on him and what he did. He made sure they couldn't speak by the time they find them. The hospital was probably grateful for all the patients he sent them every week.

Kerrigan wasn't afraid of dying. He wasn't afraid of the concept of the afterlife despite all the fire and brimstone his deceased father tried to fill him with. He was more concerned with the afterlife stories his mother spoke of-the perilous trip into the underworld and it's dangers. How a sacred spell book was needed-blessed woman, she had already prepared her own and Kerrigan with the money they got after father died-to survive the underworld and to survive it’s perils. To stand before the lords of the underworld with two things separating you from the Field of Reeds-the paradise of the dead-a hideous monster known as Amut- the devourer of hearts and the feather of truth. Should the sins and guilt of actions in life weigh the heart heavier than the feather, Amut would pounce and devour his heart and his soul would to simply unexist. A punishment worse than Hell because there was no Hell. Simply to dissolve into nothingness. He didn't fear that despite all his crime and deviancy.

He didn't fear that for everything he had done, the people he stepped on, he had beaten, scared, robbed, swindled, seduced into his bed, and betrayed. He knew his heart would be heavy upon death and Amut would eat him. He knew he would unexist. And that is why he did not fear death. Kerrigan knew what would happen to him and he readily accepted it. It gave him more motivation to live for the moment, for the now, that life was so insufferably painfully short and that Amut would soon eat him alive and it would be best to simply leave his mark before the wretched beast could.

He didn't fear it when he felt that knife in his back. Repeatedly. Over and over again. He didn't fear it while he laid there bleeding out in an alley, a pitiful ending for his greatness. He didn't fear it as his ears rang and his sight bled into a single color and everything went dark and silent without a single final poetic thought. Kerrigan was never one for poetry or final words.

He didn't die afraid, but he would be lying if he didn't say it had taken him by surprise. - He feared her, the bitch who ripped him from the emptiness of the afterlife in which he wandered, trying to read languages from a book he couldn't read in a land of horror and dread. He should’ve listened to his mother who always criticized him to learn the language of his ancestors rather than submitting to the common tongue.

He feared her the minute she wrapped her swamp green hand around the tie on his neck and jerked him upright in his coffin and demanded that he live.

DEMANDED!

The Gall of this bitch, this wretched woman who disturbed his sleep just as he was finally figuring out the damned spell book!  Who did she think she was? Some cloaked bitch who only had a shovel, a shitty book of her own and was half his size was making demands to him, an Underboss, the brute of Moltara, the Beast among the pits! How DARE she!

But she had ordered him and he felt so compelled-such a desire had filled him to drop everything and return to her who held him by his neck garment. And he felt that dry raspy gasp  as she commanded him to breath, and the stiffness of his preserved body as she commanded him to walk. And for her to command him to talk-

"You fucking BITCH, who the hell-" Was all he had coughed out thru the dirt before she had snatched him by the tie again and practically dragged her down into eye level. She wore a carnival mask-the kind he had only seen in books, one half made up to look like beautiful stained glass, with smooth golden lips.

"Let's get some shit clear quick, Pony Boy." She had half rasped and snarled. "I'm you're master and You're my Revenant. I'm the one thing standing between you and the muzzle of a shot gun of anti-zombie fanatics." He had stared, mouth half agape as she continued. "When I say 'Jump' you say 'How High, Boss?' When I say 'FETCH' you've already FETCHED. When I say 'Get me some Thai Takeout, you already have my order ready." She had jerked him forward again with another snarl to make sure he had been paying attention and he felt a lump form in his throat.

"You're my bitch until I decide I'm SICK of you and let you return to the hell you've rightfully earned. But until then, let's try to get along and I'll consider keeping you around longer after I've run out of uses for you. I can assure you a rather comfy retirement if I've decided that you've been a good boy." Was all she had snarled to him before he felt an entire sense of submission to her. An impulsive intense desire to just roll over on his back and show her his belly. To have her step on him, this nameless woman of greens and blacks and a carnival mask.

He was a BITCH and he was HERS.

Kerrigan finally found something to be afraid of.

Because when he retaliated before they entered her house, when he had jerked the hand away she had been leading him with and him mindlessly following, when he had spit those words, when he found his fire again-

"WHY SHOULD I EVEN LISTEN TO YOU YOU FUCKING MASKED CUNT?"

-He had been on the ground vomiting up blood, crying and screaming like he never had before while she slid the mask back on. His mind spinning and reeling, unable to comprehend what he had saw, his brain literally blown into shock while he dry heaved things that shouldn't still be in his stomach back up. Kerrigan felt like he was losing his mind, everything HURT and it hurt BAD. Worse than any beating he got. Worse than the time he watched someone get caught in the industrial machines. Worse than those knives that cut into his back.

"Because I am a person worth being listening to. "She had replied once her mask had been fastened back on. -

He was afraid of this new world Beatrix 'Trixie' Ravenhearse had brought him into. This was not the world he knew of heat and bitterness and lava at every corner and where questions could be solved with fists and the sound of machinery and bubbling magma was a second lullaby.

This was place of constant cold, like the steel of an abandoned factory, unfeeling and unalive. Deathly quiet. No birds ever sang and the ones that did had such horrid songs. He had never been in a world away from his home of lava and steel. He had never seen the rivers of water or thick lush grass of the above earth or the starried sky and moon or the things that walked between those trees that never grew leaves or bore fruit. A world where the long dead and forgotten walked as if it were nothing to be among the living. Creatures that lapped up blood and spread their parasitic disease thru bite, beings that changed forms with the waxing and waning of the moon, Daemons and devils that belonged the world of brimstone and fire his father had preached. Mortals who worshiped the earth and the magic in the 'ley lines' which ran most powerful in these deadened woods-despite how barren it is- and worship ancient gods and goddesses or in the case of Beatrix Ravenhearse-ancient entities beyond the comprehension of the mind made of pure knowledge.

Arcane rituals to beings that had no form and took no mortal coil took place in the basement that she dissapeared into every few days. He was permitted to clean up there after she was done. It was just a big empty room with candles piled at every edge of what was a perfectly round room with no edges and no corners. Markings and symbols painted all over the walls, the floor, the ceiling in immaculate detail and design. Kerrigan didn't know what any of these runes meant, or what the thick fluid they were painted in WAS. But his undead body trembled in fear, it knew better than his soul, that these held such deep power, he could feel the room vibrate under his hooves until he scrubbed away every mark with the bucket of bleach and soap water. He feared that room and he feared what she did in there.

A Demanding arrogant bitch she was, she played with powers that made him sick to his stomach to think about-the proof of her early faults at the lack of her face, concealed and covered by one of the numerous masks she ordered him to maintain and polish daily. He could feel himself flinch a bit every time she raised the mask just a bit to move it aside so she could eat her meals. He was too cowardly to ever try and poison her or serve her tainted food. He never felt compelled to. The minute he had the thought-it would be gone as quickly as it had come to him. Every thought against her, any idea of rebellion that popped into his skull would be immediately doused. He feared the fact that escape was impossible. That his freedom only earned by his servitude and loyalty to her.

He feared how nonchalant everyone was, how nobody turned a head or batted an eye at his mummified preserved zombie body. He feared how he could feel EVERYTHING, every ache and constant pain after so long of feeling nothing. He could feel the burns of the stabs in his back, like hot ugly irons, the pains never soothed. He feared waking up in the mornings, the pain resurfacing before he could even open his eyes.

He feared the maiden who lived in the attic. Kerrigan was charged with feeding her meals, leaving her food at the bottom of the second flight of stairs, leading to the attic. He never saw her. He heard her carefully creep down and snatch the tray up, a flurry of petticoats and the faintest scent of lilys and vanilla creeping from her room. He knew from Trixie that her name was Lu and she would be left alone by him and she was not to be disturbed. She was a paying tenant who kept to herself to do her work. Lu never made noise, but sometimes late into the night in sudden fits of insomnia that Kerrigan had, he would hear of the sounds of typewriting. Quiet frantic clicking over and over again and the sound of the carriage sliding back across, soft frantic whispers as the typewriter got stuck and it banging on the table. He feared what she was, a mystery, the unknown, that made her home above him while horrors below him were committed.

He feared the beast that followed around the Younger sibling of Trixie like a savage animal. She dripped of chocolate, but his strange new senses told him there was something under all that slime and chocolatey sweetness was something foul, wretched and horrifying. Flashing him sweet wicked smile and everyone submitted to her. Her name was like a dying animal's cry, Marolou-awwowhwowhwowh or something like that, he never caught it fully, she made Kerrigan nervous. The way Trixie reminded him of his Boss, Marolouw reminded him of the wives who bothered him to get their way. Feeding off attention and money and glamour her submissive Warlock Barnabas provided her. But he feared her power. Because she was truly a wolf in sheep's clothing. He feared that smile and those honeyed words. She was a monster of a different caliber.

He didn't fear the brother as much as the sister. He feared his smile, the things he did, the things he SAID sometimes-perfect echos of his sister's influence, wicked and quick witted with a sharp tongue at times. But he was quieter. More demure. More submissive. If things were ranked in the house hold, It would have gone something along the lines with Trixie and Marolouw at the top, Miss Lu in the attic second place, Barnabas and then Kerrigan himself. But he was much calmer, less eccentric. He didn't have the venom that Trixie had always laced on her tongue, he did the same things his sister did, venturing down into that edge-less room that was the basement. But he kept to himself, his books and his studies. Kerrigan greatly preferred Barnabas. But he feared what he felt. He feared the way the little purple goat stirred emotions in him.

He had one set of feelings for his sister, an unabashed loyalty and arousal to her no shits taken attitude towards everyone everything, arousal and his need to submit to her could be love. Or ancient magic spells to keep him in place, he wasn't sure but he didn't really care. But Barnabas wasn't that. He was cowardly. Fearful of everything around him like he was seeing everything with new eyes. The neglect their mother had apparently given them had made Trixie indifferent to affections of any kinds and Barnabas starved and hungry for it. That very small power given to him by the Warlock.  He could so very easily dominate and bully and break Barnabas like the rest did. But his kisses left Kerrigan weak, his sweet breath filling his long dead lungs. To touch him felt like a privilege, ravaging him a blessing. Barnabas was so welcoming to his advances it frightened Kerrigan at first. They never exchanged pledges of love the way many of his previous girlfriends goaded him into doing that were easily and quickly broken within weeks or days even. Their-ahem-'interactions' were frequent enough to be satisfying, but far apart to leave Kerrigan feeling starved and wanting of attention again-only to be fed and satisfied at Barnabas’s choosing. They were gentlemen friends with benefits. And to lose that privilege frightened him.

He could often smell that scent on him-the same smell his sister carried-but being so intimate with her brother, he smelt it stronger on Barnabas. Kerrigan wasn't even sure if they knew they had that smell. The smell of Sulfur and Brimstone and of rose waters and candlewax. The smell the demons that walked the earth had, made of heat and hate. The siblings did not belong to that cast exactly, but a linage once removed by the tainting of mortal blood to the demonic. Dangerous parentage that made other Demonic creatures that walked in false skins and hides in these parts flinch and back down as they walked the streets. As if they were royalty of some kind. Royalty worth being feared and respected. And Kerrigan lived in fear at one day learning what creature decided to descend into the world and make them with a mortal.

Kerrigan lived in a world of fear. An uncertain world. A world that was no longer his. He was was no longer a big fish in a small pond. The world had grown, but he had not. He had stayed the same, but this world moved and changed.

And that scared him most of all.

#Mutant Muttering #Neopets #Neotag #Neopet #Writing #text #Kerrigan #Trixie Ravenhearse #Barnabas Vladstik #Marolouw #Lu #Uni #Ixi #Wocky

[childfreeisthewaytobe]

08.08-08.11.2010

The day I found out I was pregnant, I was at my family reunion. It was a blistering 100 degrees outside and I was feeling absolutely 100% fine until my dad tried to hand me a fresh grilled hot dog. I saw it and immediately felt sick. I objected and probably told him I just wasn't ready to eat yet, but I immediately knew. Immediately. It was unlike any other sick I had ever felt. Unlike any other nausea.

I left the reunion a real short time after to buy some pregnancy tests at Walgreens. I got home and took one right away.

Positive.

Oh my god. What did I do? What the fuck did I do? What did WE do?!

I called my boyfriend. No answer. Called again. No answer. Chirped several times (good old Nextel), and texted. No reply. I knew he was sleeping. He'd spent the whole day running callbacks as a part time firefighter (if you could even call it that) and he was dead to the world, but I needed to talk to him so I got in my car and drove all the way there, calling, chirping, and texting the entire time, nonstop, wondering how the fuck I put myself in such a dumb position.

When I got to his house I banged on the front door so hard I bet his parents thought I was being chased and/or murdered. His mother came to the door and I blew past her like a bull in a China shop up to his room.

I threw the door open and shook him awake harder than anyone should really ever be shaken awake, but in all of my time before getting there, I wondered what a mistake we made and how I couldn't even get him to answer all of these calls and messages. How could I make him grow up and be a father? The firehouse was his stupid life and I didn't ever want to compete.

The bastard was awake. I made up a story about a fake fight with my family to get his mom to leave so I could unleash the horrible news.

"I'm pregnant."

Silence.

Me: "What the fuck are we gonna do?"

Him: "I'm going to get another job and take care of you."

While it's typically every mother-to-be's dream to hear that sort of thing when some dudes straight bounce, that was literally the last thing I wanted him to say. I wanted him to tell me he didn't want to have a baby. I wanted him to cry.

I shook my head with vigorous force.

"No. No. No you're not. I don't want this."

I had decided before he even knew the possibility existed. Regardless of his reaction, he didn't get a say. There was no choice for the boy because he was there or because it was his too or whatever. No no no. No.

I spent the night that night and when we woke up the next morning, he reminded me of our beach plans we made with friends the day before and asked me if we could still go. It was right then that I knew I wouldn't be able to rely on him in the way that I would need to if I ever really entertained the idea of going through with the pregnancy. The beach?

I had to go home. I had to tell my parents. I needed them and I needed the truth out of me. I jumped out of his bed and we drove to my house. Me in my car and him in his. When we got there, we went up to my room and I told him to stay there. I wanted to tell them myself and just be away from him.

I went downstairs to the family room where my parents were sitting on their computers.

"I need to talk to you, " I told them with a shaky voice.

They knew. Come on. They had to.

"I'm pregnant."

"Oh no" my mom blurted out.

"... And we're not keeping it."

Her voice fell. "Oh no."

I didn't tell them so I could feel less guilty or get their blessing. I didn't feel guilty and I didn't need anyone's blessing, thank god. I was 22 and knew all I needed was whatever it was going to cost and my own consent.

My dad silently got up and walked upstairs. My mom and I sat in silence while we listed to his footsteps in the hallway above us and knew he was going to retrieve my boyfriend from my room. Or worse.

They both came downstairs and we waited for their words. I can't even tell you what was said to make me cry. I believe in my heart that I pretended to be upset and unsure of my decision but really I had no remorse and knew I needed to get on the phone and call anyone who could help me end this thing.

We fell silent until like in my family's notorious fashion, we left the room quietly, one by one. When my boyfriend left, I jumped online to search for an abortion, praying to fucking god that I wasn't too far along for a doctor to even want to do it. The literal last thing on earth I wanted was a forced pregnancy.

This would be the first time I ever had an experience with Planned Parenthood, but I feel the need to mention that, hey! They offer way more than abortion services!

I learned that 8-12 weeks was the cutoff for an abortion, but I wouldn't know where I was until my appointment, so I took the very first available time they could see me which was 2 days later; Wednesday, August 11th.

In the 3 days that I spent aware of my condition, I only knew I wanted it OUT. I was constantly ill. I couldn't even think about food, much less eat any. I was so irritable and tired. I did not feel like I was glowing or beautiful or sacred. I wanted to kill the baby myself just to feel better. I did not have one single iota of a maternal attachment to my baby. I could only think that every minute that passed was one minute closer to feeling better.

The morning of my procedure was torture. The nausea was always the worst in the morning and naturally we had to be at the facility as early as we could literally to secure a spot. I didn't understand why since we had an appointment but I would soon learn that the appointment came with a "before" interview that was apparently required by Planned Parenthood or the state or whoever. Each patient's interview was sometime before the actual procedure and they all seemed random.

I sat in the waiting room with my boyfriend in silence and observed the room around me. The nonchalant atmosphere affected me more than I thought it would, not because of how sad it was that we were all there to end our pregnancies, but because of how normal it seemed for some of them to be there. I did not regret my decision but I certainly wasn't able to smile or mess around on my phone or close my eyes and take a nap while we waited.

When my name was called, I thought it was because it was "my turn," but I was wrong. I was pulled into a small office by myself; he was not allowed to come with me. I was sat across a nurse lady with a warm smile who asked me questions I never even considered like "are you here with anyone?" and "are you here on your own accord?" and "do you have a support system at home?"

I immediately understood that some girls that come through there maybe didn't make the choice to end their pregnancies based on their circumstances. I only knew what I felt in that moment and that was that my decision was 1000% my own. I made sure to mention that out loud and asked about the others in the waiting room. She said that I was right but also that she had seen a few of the girls more than once. She called them "frequent flyers."

The interview was all of 10 minutes. We paid the $500 and then I was back out in the waiting room.

Finally, my name was called for real. I got up and followed the nurse into the office. I climbed up on the bench and waited for the anesthesiologist and my surgeon, I guess you could call her. I was thankful they were both women.

It only took me 7 or 8 seconds to fall asleep, but I'll never forget still hearing the sound of the vacuum and the pressure of it being moved in and out and around my uterus to make sure it... "got everything." I feel like I REALLY fell asleep only after the procedure was over.

I woke up in a recliner and a diaper in a room with 5 other girls in my exact position. There was nothing glamorous about it. It was a bright room and I was sitting there with no pants and a diaper on. I looked around the room and immediately started crying. It was awful to see and hear and feel. I hated being there and getting myself there and everything about everything. The other girls talked calmly to me, trying to relax me and calm me down with their "it'll be okay's" and other soft hushings I can't even recall. I just remember wondering how they were so alright. It seemed normal to them and I hated them too.

I woke up enough to ask the nurse to tell my boyfriend to come get me. He walked back and helped me get dressed and gather my stuff. I walked out with him and never ever looked back.

He left me sitting in the foyer while he picked up the car and parked it right in front to come back inside and help me. The good thing about him in that moment was that he had had extensive medical training through all of his firefighter training so he was pretty attentive and knowledgeable about how to take care of me after waking up. It was a quiet ride home if I remember correctly. I may have told him a few things but probably nothing like I left here.

When we got back to his house, I was pretty awake and knew I was going to have to pull it together a little bit if I was going to hide the fact that I had just woken up from surgery from his parents.

When we walked in, his dad immediately offered us grilled hot dogs and I realized I was hungrier than I had ever been in my life. It hadn't hit me until I was faced with the idea of food. My boyfriend looked at me as if to let me decide for us both. I nodded and ate 2.

It started, and ended with grilled hot dogs.

And an epic, epic nap.

I woke up to the sound of my idiot boyfriend listening to fire tones and calls on literally every device he owned as if I didn't just go through one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.

Man was I pissed.

And glad I didn't decide to go through with having a baby with him.

#shout your abortion #child free #childfree