#or about all the animal cruelty I’ve witnessed and all the animals I saw with my own two eyes get killed

[three--rings]

Sandman ep 11

Favorite episode?  Maybe.

Dream of a Thousand Cats is..Dream of a Thousand Cats.  It’s fun, it’s cute (despite the depicted human cruelty), nicely animated.

Calliope...I’ve always loved this story.  In fact, when I think about what The Sandman is, Calliope often is what comes to mind.  For whatever reason.

Which feels weird to think about, because it’s a story about rape and imprisonment of a woman.  I think according to some philosophies that means I’m supposed to not like it?  But because it’s a story ABOUT the exploitation of women that I like it. 

Wonderfully cast and acted...I absolutely love the way this story highlights the hypocrisy of a supposedly “feminist” male author, the dark things someone can do in private while saying all the right things in public...

the creative desperation familiar to all creatives...

the hints at the women standing behind famous creative men, that it was all her work the entire time.  What an entitled white man will do to maintain his power...

And of course the hints of Dream backstory, of Orpheus’s story, that he has been married, etc etc. 

And the fucking visceral punishment, again familiar to writers, the curse of too many ideas, leading to that horror of writing with your own blood until you’ve torn your fingers to the bone that has always horrified and remained with me since I first read it.

It’s all just a reminder that The Sandman is a story about stories.  That’s what a lot of people who are critical of the series don’t get.  Like, I saw a review that said Morpheus is boring as a central character.  But, like, that’s sorta the point.  It’s not a story about a cool dude.  It’s a story about all the stories around him, the characters that matter are the ones in the actual stories.  Dream is actually, just, like the witness. 

Anyway, ironic I just finished my watch of Sandman with Mr. Rings last night and here is more Sandman. 

#the sandman #threerings watches the sandman #sandman netflix #sandman spoilers #threerings' reactions

[incarnateirony]

Idk dude, I can’t force you to tag or not tag what you want on your blog, but I would perhaps argue that video is not as widely known in popular culture as you say it is, considering I’ve been alive 25 years and I’ve never heard of or seen it before and I do my best to not live with my head under a rock. And I get if you want to call white libs getting their knickers in a twist over Carlos talking about weed pearl clutching, or how their privileged bitching and moaning about Spn/TW queer storylines and representation is pearl clutching - but boiling is not a primary method of euthanasia for frogs accepted by the American veterinary medical association, it’s inhumane, it can be disturbing for people who don’t wish to see animal cruelty, and you’ve never given any previous indication that your blog could contain content like that, so I don’t think asking for SOME form of warning is such an inappropriate or pearl-clutchingy thing to do.

Calm the fuck down and go outside if you try to avoid acting like you don't go outside

It has literally been a thing since the 1800s and is a whole fucking figure of speech.

Yes, this is PEAK white lib bullshit. "I saw a metaphor that made me uncomfortable, can you enact bizarre levels of censorship over things that most socially exposed adults have witnessed?"

For fuck's sake google "boiling frog" and then, read your anon back over about "how it's not that well known or popular", go back in time, and delete all the concern trolling in my inbox.

Writing wholeass anons about euthenasia bullshit over a 200 year old fuckin metaphor.

GO OUTSIDE, TUMBLR

I can't get over this. "I (somehow) haven't personally heard of it, so it can't be that common." The fucking. obliviousness. you could have googled "boiling frog" before going this weird about it. So yes, perhaps you are, in fact, not as adjusted or socially exposed as you've decreed for yourself. When you need trigger warnings for 200 year old metaphors, we're off the edge of the socialization map, mate.

Me: Man this whole fandom has so many lessons coming to it in TW, this is robbie straight up boiling the frog

Some anon frog, in the pot, boiling slowly: I am offended at this violent metaphor and will continue standing here acting like I do without any need to change or self inspect and-- urk

THINK OF THE FROG CHILDREN or something ig

Methinks the people who managed to never hear about the boiling frog metaphor are the people that need to learn it in life most. Interesting overlap.

[raekleindogpaintings]

Sometimes when I feel so consumed by anger, or sadness, or numbness and I just need to start ranting for hours about politics or the obliviousness of my nation to their extreme racism/ableism/general bigotry or about my trauma or about somebody else's trauma and I’m just too tired and can't find my words I listen to no children and it makes everything bearable

#it's so cathartic #it's unapologetically hateful and that's really validating y'know #like sometimes I just can't gather my fancy words and talk about how misogyny has affected me since I was a lil baby #or about all the animal cruelty I’ve witnessed and all the animals I saw with my own two eyes get killed #or about how every time I open my mouth to criticize something racist in some Egyptian comedy I get the weird disgusted looks and the ‘’stop #-being a twitter snowflake’’ talk #and about how the teachers in my elementary school mistreated us #and how worse they've mistreated the disabled students #I remember once when I was in first or second grade one of our fucked up teachers said: #do you want to get beaten up like donkeys? donkeys who never care and beg for more beatings? do you want us to treat you like the cripples- #-​down there? and he pointed to the ‘’special school for differently abled children’’ #the children were all cannibalizing each other and getting cannibalized and nobody cared #they encouraged it. even #and about how normalized child abuse is here #and about how I can never walk down the street without clutching my keys and glancing around #and I just need to cry ‘’I hate you. I fucking hate’’ at so many many people #it takes all of my hate and anger and turns them to something so beautiful #it's beautiful #the melody is not angry as the words are. it's cold and full of light like a winter morning #like running away in a meadow until your feet are blistered and never looking back #it's like they're saying ‘‘your anger can be this beautiful’’ #music loveposting #vent #very reliable posts #child abuse tw #ableism tw #animal cruelty

[willowbird]

can we get an Aaron POV of him beating the abuslute shit out of Jack in the locker room. i’m talking about slamming this boys head into the locker beating, he need kevin, matt and nicky to get aaron to stop and even then he still struggling to get more in till andrew comes into his vision. show me that same aaron from that secne in thanksgiving!!!

I am so SO sorry it's taken me so long to answer this!! Work was getting hectic and I was working on something else BUT now I'm for sure gonna get through the rest of these asks ^.^

Aaron losing his shit on Jack, huh? Well, we can sure do that ^.^ 

I changed a few things from your prompt just because as I was sitting down to write it made the most sense to me that if Aaron was gonna go after Jack it probably wouldn’t be about Andrew or Neil. Neil and Andrew take care of themselves, more or less, and if they can’t then they’ve got each other. Not that Aaron wouldn’t beat the ever-living shit out of Jack for doing or saying something to Andrew, but he just probably wouldn’t have to -- if only because Andrew doesn’t care enough about Jack to be affected by him. 

Nicky on the other hand...? Well, I’m a bit soft for the twins being protective of Nicky.

Warning for violence, depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts, triggering language. Take care of  yourselves.

----

“Jesus fucking Christ. That was the most pathetic excuse of teamwork I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life, and this is my sixth year coaching this fucks-forsaken team.” Coach Wymack had just spent the last twenty minutes ripping all of them brand new assholes. They were all tired, they were all angry, and they were all ready for this day to be fucking over, but it wasn’t over until the Coach had had his say, so here they were -- sitting in the locker room, getting chewed out again. 

Not that they didn’t deserve it. Aaron knew they did.

It had been a brutal fucking loss. The Foxes trashed by some half-cocked team from Alabama. Even with Andrew actively trying to block the goal, there was only so much he could do when the other team’s offense kept breaking through their defensive line to swarm the goal. Matt was off the court with an injury, which meant the only backliners they had were Aaron, Nicky, and Keith -- the freshman backliner who still couldn’t figure out how to fucking pass to a moving target. 

Aaron cared less about the loss than he did about the cause for it, and not for the same reasons as half the rest of the team. 

Nicky had been all thumbs and no energy tonight, but that hadn’t been a surprise -- not to Aaron or any of the rest of the monsters. Nicky had been off for a few days, his usual chatty, chipper demeanor whittled down to strained smiles and shrugs in a way that the rest of the team had never seen before. Well, most of the rest of the team. Aaron had seen this before. Andrew had too. Neil and Kevin hadn’t witnessed it directly, but by now the other two “monsters” knew Nicky well enough to know this other side of him existed even if they hadn’t seen it. 

So yeah, he’d gone into this game knowing it was going to suck -- knowing that they might lose. Maybe that had been their mistake. He, Andrew, Kevin, and Neil had been distracted -- torn between concern for Nicky and the need to cover for him. The freshmen had been a nightmare about it and what the fuck even was teamwork. At halftime, the commentators had called it one of the worst performances by the Foxes in three years. 

Yeah.

But at least it was fucking over, right?

“Now get showered up and get the fuck outta my sight. I don’t want to see a single one of you fuckers until tomorrow -- yeah, that’s right, we’re having Saturday fucking practice thanks to that sorry excuse of a game you pissed all over tonight.” Coach glared at all of them in turn. “By tomorrow I expect Nolan and Fisk to get their heads out of each other’s ass and Hemmick?” The big man’s gaze landed on Aaron’s cousin and he felt himself go stiff. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Andrew stand up from where he was leaning against the lockers. 

“Learn how to be a little less fucking useless. I don’t know what the fuck has been up with you the past few days but get it figure the fuck out. You hear me?”

The first pulse of genuine rage ignited in Aaron’s veins. His hands curled into fists and his vision narrowed. Nicky’s quiet, tightly muttered, “Yes Coach,” was partially drowned out by the dull roar in his ears. 

Anything he might have said or done was stymied, however, by Andrew, who slammed his fist against the lockers, drawing everyone’s attention away from Nicky and onto him. 

“Coach, I think we need to chat.” By whatever magic Andrew had over everyone that made everyone automatically take him more seriously than anyone else, he had Coach’s attention, just like that. The man snorted then jerked his head toward the door.

“Fine, but make it quick. I need to try and block out what just happened.”

Coach and Andrew left the room. For a minute, there was a tense, weighty silence, then someone whined and someone else bitched and normalcy returned -- well, normal for a really shitty fucking day anyway. The women split off to their changing room to shower and get ready, and several of the guys did the same. 

Nicky remained seated, staring blankly down at his hands, shoulders slumped in utter defeat. That anger curled in Aaron again -- not at Nicky and not at the fucking game, but at Coach and the team for being so fucking stupid, and at himself for not knowing what the fuck to do about any of it. Nicky’s depression was an open secret among their group. It was something they all knew of but never talked about. This was probably the worst episode he’d had in years and Aaron just felt... fucking powerless. 

When they’d noticed it, they’d closed ranks around Nicky as a group and shut out the rest of the team in a way they hadn’t done since the cousins’ freshman year. None of them were soft enough to take care of Nicky in the way he probably needed, but Andrew drove Nicky to Reddin Thursday morning and Aaron and Neil joined forces in helping Kevin hold his fucking tongue during practices when Nicky struggled to keep up with the rest of them. 

It was not gentle support, but it was all they had to offer.

It just... wasn’t fucking enough. 

“Jesus, Hemmick, are you fucking crying?” Aaron jerked out of his thoughts at the sound of Jack Nolan’s sharp, mocking voice. It was edged with a cruelty that went beyond the typical assholishness of the Foxes. 

“What, forgot how to fucking talk too? Wow, you really are useless aren’t you?” Jack continued when Nicky only flinched at his ridicule and didn’t rebuke him like he usually would.

“Hey, Jack, leave him the fuck alone. You didn’t do so great out there yourself tonight so why don’t you worry about yourself,” Matt barked from where he’d been sitting through Coach’s dress-down. He was wearing his jersey but since he hadn’t played tonight there was no need for him to have to peel gear off or shower. 

“Whatever.” Jack rolled his eyes like a petulant fucking teenager, but the look he shot Nicky was all cold predator. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and just go kill yourself?”

Even over the exclamation of Matt’s reprimand, Aaron still heard Nicky’s breath hitch. He remembered, vividly, the night two years ago when he and Nicky had been drinking and he’d asked him ‘How the fuck did make it through? We were fucking assholes, we are assholes, and you still stayed.’ He remembered not expecting the answer he got. He remembered Nicky looking down into his drink and saying, ‘I almost didn’t. Probably the only reason I didn’t try to off myself again was knowing that if I did, you two would go to my parents and I... I couldn’t let that happen. Didn’t care about me, but I could care about you. Caring about you guys kept me alive.’

He remembered the sick feeling in his stomach and the way that knowledge cut through his buzz, striking him sober with one fucking word: again.

Aaron did not make the decision to grab Jack, or if he did it was overwhelmed by the roar of the monster under his skin as it surged suddenly up from whatever dark place it had been lurking since that violent, bloody night last November. All he knew was that one moment he was standing there, and the next he had his hands on something that needed to shut the fuck up. 

He only vaguely registered the shouts around him as he dug his fingers into Jack’s shirt and whirled him around. Then the only thing that existed was the feeling of flesh and bone and the slick of blood against his knuckles as he drove his fists into every soft part of the body in front of him as hard as he fucking could. Jacks hands scrabbled ineffectually at Aaron’s shoulders, then his face, trying to hit him or grab his hair or push him off, but for all that Aaron was a small man he was a fucking backliner for a reason and he threw every single ounce of his muscle into shoving Jack into the lockers. 

A second later he was on him again, taking a fistful of his hair so he could slam his head into the lockers until the fucker’s knees buckled and he went down. 

All he could hear was the rumble of rage in his veins. There was no thought, no goal, no understanding -- not of anything but the raw, unfiltered hate pouring out of him as he followed Jack to the ground. Distantly, he knew there was shouting or screaming -- that there were words being thrown at him and hands desperately trying to haul him back. He felt the fingers curling around his biceps and tugging on his shoulders. But his wrath was far too powerful and each time someone got a grip he was able to wrench free and use that momentum to land another hit. 

At one point a solid arm wound around his waist and hauled him up and away. A sound like a feral animal ripped from his throat as Aaron thrashed wildly, trying to throw himself back onto Jack. The man had stopped moving at this point but there was a wet, raspy sound coming from him that still spoke of life and maybe Aaron hadn’t consciously decided to keep going until it stopped, but the drive was there all the same. 

The rest of the room was hazy around the edges, people were blurs of sound and color. The only thing in focus was the wheezing form of Jack fucking Nolan on the floor, and Aaron fought viciously to get back to him, jerking at the arms holding him back, kicking and trying to lash out with all his strength. 

Until something blocked his view. And it took a minute for Aaron to recognize what it was. To recognize who it was. 

“A-Aaron. Aaron. Stop. Please. It’s o-okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. S-stop...” 

The rest of the world snapped back into focus at the sound of Nicky’s gasped, broken words. Aaron stopped fighting so suddenly that he and everyone trying to hold him back stumbled. There were three of them, he realized -- Matt, Kevin, and Dan. Neil and Andrew were flanking Nicky, the three of them blocking his view of Jack’s prone, gasping form but not actually trying to stop him from killing him. 

Nicky was crying, his eyes wide and his hands trembling as he held them out in front of Aaron, pleading him to stop. 

Aaron took a few more heavy breaths and realized he’d been panting. He looked from Nicky to Andrew’s cool, appraising stare, then to Neil’s similar expression before finally glancing beyond them to the mess that might have once been Jack Nolan. When he dragged his gaze back to Nicky, all he said was, “He shouldn’t have opened his fucking mouth.”

Nicky made a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh. Then he did something he almost never did and launched forward, wrapping his arms around Aaron in a tight hug. In a reflex that Aaron didn’t even know he had, his arms snapped around his cousin and he hugged him back just as fiercely. 

As Nicky sobbed onto his shoulder, Aaron looked over his hunched form and met his brother’s gaze. There weren’t words that could translate the look they shared just then, but if he had to label it, it might have been something like understanding. 

#aftg #aftg fanfic #tw: violence #tw: depression #tw: mentions of suicidal thoughts #tw: triggering language #pov aaron minyard #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #protective aaron minyard #asks #100 followers #anonymous #my writing

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

WATCH OUT

(PLEASE DON’T REBLOG!)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader

Characters: Zuko, Aang, Katara, Toph, Sokka.

Requested: Yes!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part three of “destiny is a funny thing”

find part two here!

A/N: Hullo! i’m back to blow your minds again, lol. The request for this came within, like, five minutes of posting the last part. So thanks to @zvkonation​. I’m glad you guys seem to enjoy it. I hope this part will be to your liking. Altough i think it’s a bit of a mess haha.

“Hello, Zuko here!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered upon the sight of him. Team Avatar formed a half-circle, ready to fight.

You hadn’t seen him since the battle in the Crystal Catacombs, and you’d wanted it to stay that way. After his betrayal it took some time to look ahead. To stop dwelling on it and accept that it was over. Of course you had to tell the others what had happened at some point. And you did. From the fight with Jet, to their false identities, and about the tea shop. Everything but the fact that you harbored feelings for their worst enemy.

“I heard you guys flying around down there, so... I just thought i’d wait for you here,” No one responded. No one but Appa, whose gigantic tongue greeted the prince one second later. Zuko groaned at the caress, but he didn’t reject it. “I know you must be surprised to see me here,”

“Not really, since you followed us all over the world,” Sokka answered defensively, already reaching for his weapon.

“Right... Well uh... Anyway. What i wanted to tell you about is that i’ve changed, and i’m good now. And, well, i think i should join your group. Oh! and i can teach firebending to the Avatar,” He continued.

Changed. There it was again. The gaang remained silent, not giving up their fighting stances. Now the Air Temple could become a war zone at any second.

“You wanna, what now?” Toph was the first one to recover. Her face was scrunched up, black strands dangling in front of her forehead. "We all know what happened the last time you 'changed'," You sneered, raising your hands. "(Y/N), please-," This time he was the one pleading, but you wouldn't have it. You didn't want to waste any more time with him. "Save your explanation for someone who cares!" Flames appeared in your palms, burning from within.

“You can’t possibly think that any of us would trust you, can you? I mean how stupid do you think we are?” Katara wasn’t acting any calmer than in their last encounter. And rightfully so. You’d witnessed the conflict firsthand and empathised with her pain. Both of you had fallen for his trap at the same time.

“Yeah, all you’ve ever done is try to hunt us down and capture Aang,” Sokka threw in. “And besides, (Y/N) is a fire bender. She can teach him,” You pursed your lips, but remained silent. He was right. You could teach Aang. But would that truly be enough? You doubted it. All your techniques were mainly made up from watching other fire benders in your childhood. You’d never had a real teacher. If you were honest to yourself, Zuko was probably the better choice. But the risk of him killing your student made up for it.

“I’ve done some good things! I helped (Y/N) after she got attacked by Jet! Right?” The prince argued, gesturing wildly. He caught your gaze, hoping for some kind of support. But he was met with indifference. "You didn't even know that I was with the Avatar back then," You argued, growing more impatient by the second. Zuko quickly came up with another story. “I could’ve stolen your bison in Ba Sing Se, but i set him free! That's something,” The animal proceeded to lick him again, growling fondly.

“Appa does seem to like him,” The earth-bender said, relaxing her stance slightly. Her features softened. “He probably just covered himself in honey or something, so that Appa would lick him. I’m not buying it!” Sokka declined, making a cutting motion through the air, to underline his statement.

“I can understand why you wouldn’t trust me. And i know i’ve made some mistakes in the past,” Zuko acknowledged, lowering his gaze. The slight breeze tugged at his garments. For the first time since you’d known him, he wore Fire Nation clothing. The ruby red, mixed with gold and black, revealed his true heritage. His was a simple robe, instead of the royal attire you would’ve expected. Just like yours.

“Like when you attacked our village?” Your friend asked, sarcastically. “Or when you stole my mother’s necklace and used it to track us down and capture us?” His sister balled her fists, barely able to hold back. “Or when you betrayed us in the Catacombs?” You hissed.

Seeing him again was unbearable. Unbelievable. It was like the past came back to haunt you all over again. Every time you looked at him, it reminded you of the horror you'd faced. Of Aang dying in your arms. And he just wouldn’t stop trying. “Look, i admit i’ve done some awful things. I was wrong to try to capture you and to betray you. I’m sorry that i attacked the water tribe. And i never should’ve send that Fire Nation Assassin after you. I’m going to try to stop-,”

“Wait! You sent Combustion-Man after us?” One sibling interrupted, his voice getting a few octaves higher. Your eyes widened. The others seemed no less shocked, than you. Just when you’d thought it couldn’t get any worse... It did. “Well, that’s not his name, but-” Zuko tried to explain, but clearly focused on the wrong point. “Oh, sorry, i didn’t mean to insult your friend,” Sokka scoffed, holding up his boomerang. Now there was one more reason not to trust him. How many more would he add? You weren’t eager to find out. “He’s not my friend!” The fire bender exclaimed, bewildered. “That guy locked me and Katara in jail and tried to blow us all up!” Toph pointed an accusatory finger at him. He lowered his eyes, closing them briefly.

You said nothing, only staring at him, until he looked up. “(Y/N)...” He tried, his eyes softening, but you shook your head. He looked terribly lost. So lost that you almost believed him. But where love once was now resided resentment and anger. His lies were revolting. You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” He redirected his attention to Aang. “You once said you thought we could be friends. You know i have good in me,” Out of the corner of your eye you saw Sokka shake his head at him.

“There’s no way we can trust you after everything you’ve done. We’ll never let you join us,” The Avatar decided. “You need to get out of here. Now!” The water bender ordered, her locks framing her face like a thundercloud. “I’m trying to explain that i’m not that person anymore!” His desperate tone made your heart clench. You had to look away.

“Either you leave, or we attack!” Sokka stepped forward, boomerang gripped tightly.

Zuko sunk to his knees. "If you won’t accept me as a friend, then maybe you’ll take me as a prisoner,”

“No. We won’t!” Katara unleashed a splash of water, knocking him back. “Get out of here and don’t come back. And if we ever see you again... Well, we better not see you again!”

The air was tense as he walked off. Your fear didn’t subside.

How long would it take for his next strike to hit you?

And how many more could you take?

“Why would he try to fool us like that?” Katara questioned a while later. “Obviously he wants to lead us in some kind of trap,” Her brother stated, following her deeper into the temple. Aang and you trailed after them silently. “This is just like when we were in prison together in Ba Sing Se. He starts talking about his mother and making it seem like he’s an actual human being with feelings,” Her words hurt. But you had to admit that she spoke the truth. The tender moments you’d had with him would stay until the end of time, pointing out your failure. Your naivety. When you thought about him, you felt nothing but rage and pain making your stomach twist.

“He want’s you to trust him and feel sorry for him. Then you let your guard down and he strikes!” Sokka said gesturing furiously. His short ponytail wiggled along with his movements. “The thing is, it worked,” Katara put her sleeping bag down, kneeling to roll it out. “I did feel sorry for him. I felt like he was really confused and hurt. But, obviously, when the time came he made his choice. And we payed the price. We can’t trust him,” You nodded, hugging your own bag to your chest. “I believed everything he told me, when i lived with them. He was nice. And then he turned around and stabbed me in the back,” His amber eyes had seemed so genuine at the time... So loving. But it was all a game. A pastime as long as you were around, only to throw you away later. He’d made his choice. And you hadn’t been enough to be choosen. The memories left a burning feeling in your chest.

“I kind of have a confession to make,” the Avatar cut in. “Remember when you got sick and i got captured by Zhao?” You all ignored Sokka’s rant about Aang making him suck on frozen frogs. His poor sister had taken a look at his throat multiple times before. And to be honest, you all had. Involuntarily.

“Anyway. When Zhao had me chained up, it was Zuko who came in and got me out. He risked his life to save me,” You furrowed your brows. This was the last thing you wanted to hear about. What even was the point? Listing the few good deeds he seemed to have done, wouldn’t undo the mistakes. “No way! I’m sure he only did it so he could capture you himself,” Katara dismissed his idea. “Yeah! Face it Aang, You’re nothing but a big price to him,” Her brother agreed. “And what was all that crazy stuff about setting Appa free? What a liar,” The siblings had choosen a clear position in this debate. It didn’t really surprise you that they had each others backs. And so did you.

“Actually, he wasn’t lying,” Toph chimed in, leaning against a pillar connected to the ceiling. “Oh, hurray! In a lifetime of evil, at least he didn’t add animal cruelty to the list,” She paid no mind to Sokka’s antics and remained calm. “I’m just saying that, considering his messed up family and how he was raised, he could’ve turned out a lot worse,” You didn’t know why she would vouch for him, but you wouldn’t put her down. The sooner this discussion was over, the better. “You’re right, Toph. Let’s go find him and give him a medal! The ‘Not as much of a jerk as you could’ve been’ Award!” Katara mocked, spreading her arms in frustration. The earth bender crossed her arms, relying on her factual point of view. “All i know is, that while he was talking to us, he was sincere. Maybe you’re all just letting your hurt feelings keep you from thinking clearly,”

The group continued to bicker back and forth. “Why would you even try to defend him?” Toph pushed herself off the column, walking up to them. “Because, Katara, you’re all ignoring one crucial fact. Aang needs a fire bending teacher. It’s true, we have (Y/N), but she was never trained herself. And she never denied that she doesn’t have much knowledge about most techniques. And then another one shows up on a silver platter and you won’t even consider it?” She stomped. The rest of them turned to look at you, but you only shrugged. She was right. You’d been open with them from the beginning. “I admit that i don’t have as much... deep understanding for it as others may have. But i’m willing to give my best,”

Your reasoning seemed to be enough for the Avatar to pass. “I’m not having Zuko as my teacher,” he said. “You’re damn right, you’re not, buddy.” Sokka crossed his arms. “Well, i guess that’s settled,” You agreed. Toph grunted in frustration. “I’m beginning to wonder who’s really the blind one around here,”

The girl ranted as she walked away, only to return one day later, with burned soles.

“Toph! What happened?” She’d crawled in on her stomach, feet in the air. The front of her clothes was completely stained with dirt. Or as she liked to call it, a ‘healthy coating of earth’. ‘“My feet got burned,” Katara immediatly looked at the outcome. The skin was red and tender. Too sensitive to be touched. “Oh no! What happened?” You had no idea where she’d been all day, but considering the argument about a certain fire bender, a suspicion formed in your head. “I just told you, my feet got burned,” The brunette furrowed her brows. “I meant, how?” She hesitated, but answered while Katara used her healing powers to save whatever she could. “Well, i kind of went to see Zuko last night,” Your hunch got confirmed. The gaang was shocked to say the least. “See? You trusted Zuko and you got burned. Literally!” Sokka scolded, as he and Aang proceeded to carry Toph to the little fountain where she could stick her feet into the water. “Now i know how the rest of you feel. Not being able to see with your feet stinks,” You chuckled at her words, moving to stand behind her and putting your hands on her shoulders. She was like a little sister to you. And there was no doubt that you would make Zuko pay for what he'd done to her, should you ever see him again.

To your own dismay, that happened sooner than you’d expected.

A few seconds later to be exact.

“Watch out!” You yelled, spotting the assassin, as an explosion shook the temple. The man stood on a platform above, shooting at you. Or, to be precise, at Aang.

“Stop!” You weren’t that surprised to see Zuko next to him. The shock came more with the words he was saying. “I don’t want you hunting the Avatar anymore!” He commanded, but it was of no use. The boys grabbed Toph, making sure she was safe between them, as you all hid behind what was left of the fountain. “The mission is off! I’m ordering you to stop!” But no matter what he said, he was only cast aside. “I won’t pay you, if you keep attacking!” The prince kept trying to get to him. Not even his flames seemed to impress the man. “I’ll pay you double to stop!”

The assassin didn’t stop. Instead he aimed at Zuko himself. Your heart stopped for a second when he conjured flames around him to escape the attack. Then he was gone. Peaking over the stones you hid behind, you could faintly spot a silhouette clinging to the braches below.

You used the opening, screamed as you ran forward, throwing fireballs at the assassin with all your might. You couldn’t let him kill the prince. That task was already reserved for you, personally. The Avatar soon joined you, producing a cyclone. But neither that, nor Katara’s ice spikes could stop him. Everything you threw at him, he shrugged off. And he continued to destroy the temple in the process. “He’s going to blast this whole place right off the cliffside!” Toph shouted over the noise. “I can’t get out to water bend at him without getting blown up,” Katara stated, when you all covered behind a wall. You dared to poke your head out for a second, but you couldn’t see anything before he took another shot. “I can’t get an angle on him from down here,”

The Team was at a loss, until Sokka seemed to have an idea. “I know how to get an angle on him!” He followed the line of fire with his eyes, and took the chance, flinging his boomerang. And he hit. The assassin stumbled on his feet, trying to shoot once more, only to go down in the process.

The platform under him exploded, erasing what remained of him. 

Raising your head you could see Zuko managing to get back up.

He’d made it.

“I can’t believe i’m saying this, but thanks, Zuko,” Aang stood in between all of you, being the first to greet him. “Hey, what about me? i did the boomerang thing,” Sokka said, striking a pose. You raised a brow at him, but gave him a pat on the shoulder, which seemed to raise his spirits.

“Listen, i know i didn’t explain myself very well yesterday. I’ve been through a lot in the past three years. It’s been hard. But i’m realizing that i had to go through all those things to learn the truth. I thought i had lost my honor and that somehow my father was the only one who could return it to me. But i know now that no one can give you your honor. It’s something you earn for yourself, by choosing to do what’s right. All i want now is to play my part in ending this war. And i know my destiny is to help you restore balance in the world,” He turned and bowed to Toph. A traditional sign of respect in the Fire Nation. “And i’m sorry for what i did to you. It was an accident. Fire can be dangerous and wild. So as a firebender i need to be more careful and control my bending, so i don’t hurt people unintentionally,”

You clenched your hands at your sides. He didn’t even need his bending to hurt people. And to your horror, Aang seemed to be considering it.

“I think you are supposed to be my fire bending teacher. When i first tried to learn fire bending, i hurt Katara. And after that, i never wanted to fire bend again. (Y/N) helped me overcome my innitial fear. And yet destiny keeps bringing us together. Now that i know you understand how easy it is to hurt the people you love, i can’t ignore that any longer,” He gifted Zuko with a bow of his own. “I’d like you to teach me,” The prince immitated his gesture. “Thank you. I’m so happy you’ve accepted me into your group,”

“Not so fast. I still have to ask my friends if it’s ok with them,” He turned back to face you. “Toph, you’re the one that Zuko burned. What do you think?” She sat on a rock next to you, shrugging. “Go ahead and let him join. It’ll give me plenty of time to get back at him for burning my feet,” Her motion clearly indicated that she would beat him up later. Thoroughly.

“Sokka?” The boy remained silent for a second, but eventually came around. “Hey, all i want is to defeat the Fire Lord. If you think this is the way to do it, then i’m all for it,” The Avatar smiled upon hearing his answer and nodded, hoping to gain more approval from the rest of you.

“Katara?” She wasn’t thrilled about the idea. She didn’t even bother to hide it. But she agreed for Aang’s sake. “I’ll go along with whatever you think is right,” The prince was ecstatic, a smile spreading on his face. “I won’t let you down, i promise!”

Everyone seemed to agree.

“And (Y/N)?” Aang looked at you with curious eyes, ready to hear your opinion. You could see Zuko breaking a sweat behind him, as you glared at his face. “I’m sorry Aang, but i can’t be a part of the group. Not if he is,” You said, flames coming to life around your fists. “But i do want to stay by your side. So i’ll prove to you that i am the better choice,” Passing the Avatar you walked up to the prince, until his face was only centimeters apart from yours.

“Prince Zuko,” Your tone was sharper than a knife. “I challenge you to an Agni Kai,”

on to part four!

tags: @zvkonation​ @viva-la-millennia​ @randomness501​ @drheinzd​ @kaylove12​  @duh-dobrik​ @yeetscreetiwannaeat​  @ashnkamfeun @hailkyoshi​ @shortmexicangirl​​

(if you want to be added/removed from any taglist, please tell me in the comments)

#zuko x reader #zuko imagine #avatar zuko #prince zuko

[feelinglikecleopatra]

setbacks

so, here goes nothing. 

i’ve never posted my writing here before but i’ve been feeling inspired recently and i thought if at least one person likes this it’d do wonders for my at-an-all-time-low-because-of-the-pandemic-and-all-round-hellfire-year self-esteem. it’s a lil somethin’ somethin’ i wrote after re-reading crooked kingdom (and reading the entire works of @anonniemousefics​, s/o). 

summary: kaz and inej negotiate their demons. a short continuation from the docks scene at the end of ck. 

have at it!

~

high overhead a gull was diving for some unsuspecting tourist’s pretzel but kaz was too distracted by the swing of inej’s hair to notice. he straightened his tie and, with a smile pulling at his mouth, followed her down the quay. 

she was flying. while her feet barely touched the boardwalk, kaz struck a more measured pace, matched by the even cadence of his cane. he looked down at his cane, his bad leg, the scars over his knuckles and frowned. she had asked him to meet them, she wanted him to meet them. he repeated the thought over again. she wanted them to meet him. even clad in most of his armour. she was not ashamed so neither should he be. 

still, the waters lapped at his feet.

up ahead inej’s voice pitched forward in a flurry of suli spoken into the crook of her mothers neck. kaz understood only snatches at a time but the joy on her face, on that of her parents’ was plain as day. it was a balm after days of distance he hadn’t known how to close. 

his gaze flicked to the ship. the answer to the question, how to keep inej? don’t hold her too tightly.

it had been obvious, really. he’d known all along. that didn’t mean it’d be easy to watch her sail across the horizon. he would, watch her go, that is. the memory of her palm, warm and dry and gloriously alive against his, the sign of a deal struck.

“mama, papa, i want you to meet someone.” inej turned and held out her hand to him. the sun was no match for the brightness in her eyes when kaz curled his fingers around hers and stood by her side. “this is kaz.”

“mr. brekker?” her father’s brows were dark and full, the furrow between them a perfect match to the one between inej’s. kaz nodded dumbly, his words lost somewhere in the feel of a bare hand in his. “i think it is you we should thank, no? for bringing us here.”

kaz looked down at his twined fingers and reeled himself back in. “no thanks necessary. your daughter saved my life. more than once, i might add. i’m still settling the debt.” he could feel inej building up to correct him but rather than wait for her to do so he gestured to the city behind them and continued, “since this is your first visit to kerch let me be the one to tell you, welcome to ketterdam—the city of dreams.” and nightmares, he didn’t add. kaz felt certain inej wouldn’t approve of that.

“there’s so much i want to show you,” inej breathed, her smile almost splitting her face.

kaz wondered about that. although he knew (hoped?) she wasn’t ashamed of her life in his city, the battles she had fought and won on the streets and rooftops of the barrel, those weren’t the kinds of things his suli saint would share with her parents. 

of course, he had other things to do. between taking over from haskell, setting up his new shop on the lid, and taking full advantage of rollins’ absence, he’d be neck-deep in paperwork and barrel messes for the foreseeable but he spent hours with the ghafa’s just to find out which version of ketterdam inej would let her parents see.

it was a revelation. that inej possessed the ability to walk through ketterdam as if she had no idea of the putrid, degenerate understory that pulsed behind every decadent facade still surprised him. it shouldn’t, not any more, but it did.

it was a terrible deja vu. kaz knew she saw it too. the wide, doe-eyed look of her parents as they took in the canals, the teetering, multi-storey houses rendered in cheerful pastels, the hawkers promising them their wildest fantasies. he tried to unsee it, to see them only as themselves but he, dirtyhands, had seen them now. there was no undoing it. there was no use in undoing it. if he had seen it, so had others.

for the entirety of their walk around the lid, kaz watched inej struggle with how to shatter the illusion without breaking their hearts in the process. between pointing out the landmarks, the sights and smells of ketterdam, she slipped in warnings and precautions, which streets to avoid and when, signs of trouble or crooked business. when they asked her how she knew all this, she joked, “too much time in the wrong company.”

when they sat down for waffles, inej ran out of evasions. the server disappeared behind the counter and all around them the early afternoon thrummed. seizing the privacy of background noise, her mother took her hand, took a breath, and let loose. tears filled the older woman’s eyes, spilled over her lashes, and landed on the ringed tabletop. inej’s father wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and placed his hand atop theirs, love and guilt all too apparent in his dark eyes.

kaz didn’t need to speak suli to know what was happening and he felt himself recoil. he shouldn’t be here. he had no right to witness this. he didn’t want to be witnessing this. inej had offered him her vulnerability time and again, moments he held closer than his most cherished grudges but this was another thing entirely. inej was crying. hot tears rolling down her cheeks. kaz couldn’t breath around the anguish in her voice as she spoke the few words he could understand, “mati en sheva yelu.”

what could she possibly be apologising for?

the ache it caused in his chest almost pinned him to the chair but he pushed against it and rose. if he stayed here he might vomit or throw something and that’s just the opposite of what inej needed. 

kaz grit his teeth, knuckles white, the crows head of his cane digging painfully into his palm. his rage was a wounded, flailing animal. there was no one to direct it at, no scheme to hatch, or revenge to plot. the peacock would get what was coming to her, as would the slavers and barrel bosses on inej’s growing list. so here, now, kaz was useless, just a boy in a good suit and scars.

he needed to get out of there.

the bell above the door jingled obnoxiously as he pushed his way onto the street. his hand, gloved once more, was wrapped in some poor skivs collar before he had a chance to think. the lad had made the mistake of stepping on the toe of kaz’s polished shoe at a moment of blinding self-loathing. lips peeled back from his teeth, kaz snarled, “learn to use your eyes or i’ll put them in a jar.” the boy whimpered. “do. you. understand?”

“yeah, yes, of course, i’m sorry, please don’t hurt me. i didn’t mean—”

kaz all but threw him to the ground. the fear in the boys eyes was familiar, it slid in to replace the pain kaz had seen in inej’s. this was kaz brekker, dirtyhands, the bastard of the barrel. not above meaningless acts of cruelty. the boy inej was in the process of apologising to her parents for associating with. kaz shrugged on the feeling like a favoured coat—well worn if a little snug in the shoulders—and headed in the direction of home.

/

his room in the slat was all shadows and sleep seemed far away.

kaz had worked late into the night, hunched over stacks of bills and contracts and intelligence until his back had raised a complaint. that new place on the lid would need work if it was going to bring in the kind of marks he intended for it. perhaps, he thought, it might even form a branch of his operation with inej.

inej.

the shadows seemed to mock him, altogether too empty of her silent presence. what was he thinking? he didn’t want her here, in his room. kaz groaned into the darkness. the old lie, that it’d be better when she was away at sea, tasted bitter on his tongue.

abruptly, kaz sat up. if sleep was off the table there were other things he could be doing with his time. he’d never been a very committed sleeper anyhow. ten minutes later kaz was pulling on his boots and heading out the door.

the night was unusually cold and kaz hiked his collar against the wind that ruffled his hair, tugged at his breath. he smiled. bad weather’s good for business. nothing pulls punters into the club like a bite of wind.

pim and keeg straightened as he approached. “what business?”

“wouldn’t you like to know. have either of you seen milo?”

“he’s inside, watching the floor,” pim gestured with a thumb.

“and who’s watching him?”

“anika. she’s been breathing down his neck all week,” keeg snorted. “won’t let him out of her sight since—”

kaz knew the crew talked about his coup, about the way their fellow dregs had come at him with knives and bats and cudgels, the things he’d said to them but they never did so in his presence. he didn’t socialise. he didn’t joke. kaz kept money in the coffers and kept their enemies at bay. he’d made it very clear, he wasn’t their friend.

“good. now, eyes front and centre. i don’t want to see anyone just walking past here—not in this weather. no ones choosing this over the home comforts of the club, understand?”

they both snickered but nodded. “got it, boss.”

the moon’s face was a pale smudge against the dome of the sky, offering only the illusion of illumination between the flickering gas lamps of the city. it was in this metropolitan semi-darkness that he felt her approach. 

a shadow separated from the rest and inej stood before him.

kaz’s breath caught when she pushed her hood back. she looked up at him with limpid eyes, wide and expecting. his mouth opened, “following me, wraith?” inej sighed and cocked her head. why was he like this?

he didn’t know how else to be. kaz had thought long and hard about what he was without his armour and the answer was, afraid. he’d become a barrel boss, fear was a luxury he couldn’t afford. 

“what do you want from me?”

inej stepped closer, into his space, and his breath caught, again. “you know what i want, kaz. the question is, what do you want?”

“i’m a simple man, inej.” the words felt strange and foreign. he knew it was because they were a lie, few were quite so complicated as he. “i want—”

“why did you leave today?”

he looked away.

“why buy me that ship? my indenture? why bring my parents here? if—if you cannot even tell me when you’re feeling overwhelmed. kaz, look at me.” he could refuse everyone but her. “i’m not upset that you left.”

“you’re not?” he couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

“no.” the word was wrapped up in a rush of breath that sounded almost like a huff, almost like a laugh. kaz titled his head and frowned down at her. “of course not. kaz.”

“yes?”

“i do not begrudge you your weaknesses,” she said. he couldn’t stop his eyes from falling closed. how does she do this? cut him to the quick. “i will have you without armour, or not at all.”

“i’m trying,” he rasped.

inej nodded, she knew that.

he flinched when he felt her small hands slide up his chest. she stopped moving immediately and he opened his eyes. “go on.” 

inej’s smile reminded him of warmed treacle and like any good misdirect, it distracted him from her hands smoothing over his shoulders, from her body pressed flush against his.

“is this okay?” she asked, eyes dark and earnest.

he hardly knew but he nodded anyway.

his heart took up a ragged beat, the waters lapping at his ankles, up to his shins.

she was so close. she was impossibly far.

kaz made plans, schemed and strategised, that was his nature. every penny of his haul from the van eck job was assigned and accounted for but this, inej in his arms, had been the measure of his desires for longer than he dared acknowledge and now that she was here he didn’t know what to do with her.

she was so small, lithe and perfect, against him. he let the hand not resting on his cane come up to rest between her shoulder blades, pressing into the fabric of her cloak. the moon limned her hair, her eyes, the inky fan of her lashes in silver. dark and deep and watery.

the waves rose. his breath stalled in his lungs. he almost pulled back but then—

“they liked you.”

she caught him. the sound of her voice was a tether to this moment, to the whisper of her breath against his neck, the heat of her body through the layers of their clothing.

“they also thought you were a little strange, too pale and solemn.”

“we can’t all be blessed with your sunny disposition.” the words spilled from his lips like kvas from the bottle. kaz clenched his fist, his jaw. “inej.”

“kaz.”

“did you tell them about the menagerie?” he watched her with a lock-picks attention, one eye on the door and the other on the haul. it was maybe too much, too soon. she had become his tether but he hadn’t yet figured out how to become hers.

the fabric of her cloak shifted against him as she let out a breath. “yes.”

how did you find the courage? he wanted to ask.

“why?” is what came out.

the slightest tremor rocked her before she pressed the fingers of her right hand into the rough wool of his collar, a solid pressure against his neck. her eyes closed. she was holding him to steel herself. 

oh, how he ached. 

“because they asked and because i needed to tell them.”

the fingers of the hand she hadn’t wrapped around his neck caught the lapel of his coat as if to hold him closer. i’m not going anywhere, he wanted to say. 

with her attention focused on his chest, she tilted her head. the sight of her pulse, fluttering in the hollow of her throat, pushed a wave of longing through him so powerful it almost sent him to his knees. the memory of his mouth on her neck was fresh like morning dew. 

as was what happened afterwards.

kaz’s mouth worked around things he wanted, no, needed to say. “inej.” she looked up at him and in the generous well of her gaze he found just enough courage to say, “you must teach me the secret to your bravery because there is so much i want to tell you, so much i want to do with you but i am afraid. afraid that i am not, that i cannot be, enough for you. afraid that you will become just one more thing i had and lost, one more thing i was never meant to keep.”

the look she gave him then, made kaz feel richer than a king. here she was, the only treasure he never had to steal, smiling at him like he’d gifted her the moon. 

inej tapped a slender index finger against her pursed lips and said, “you’re a notoriously poor student.” he thought his heart might beat out of his chest. “but, you show promise. perhaps, kaz brekker, we can teach each other.”

#soc #kanej #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #leigh bardugo #fanfiction #my first soc fic #be kind #i just wanted to find out what happened after he met her parents #kanej exorcising their demons #i'm not sure if i have inej right #or kaz for that matter #if a scene where they just say each others names back and forth made sense i would write it #i'm working on my characterisation #making people recognisable and distinctive is hard you guys

[permian-tropos]

Daniil - Liberosis

Didn’t think this prompt word would become so poignant so soon. The subject matter wound up kind of surreal and taking whatever path I thought might be interesting but sometimes it’s nicer to let other people search for meaning in something. 

IDK yeah I just wanted to publish this. Contains canon-typical misery.

Liberosis: The desire to care less about things.

-

It rains again, always with that damn rain, and inside of each puddle in the street is the reflection of a man with cold eyes. They’re a little bit sardonic, as if the protective cloth tied over his mouth obscures a world-weary smirk. They track movement deliberately, and never dart or flash.

When did this happen? When did his features freeze in place like this? It’s interesting. The last time Dankovsky saw his own reflection, he was burned out like a candle stub.

This is better. You’d rather see a second wind from the Capital doctor on his rounds, a man who cares less and does more, even if what he does isn’t much use to anyone. It’ll give people less reason to panic.

The plague is spreading on the wings of panic. That’s why the patrolmen show no mercy to the sick, those shambling mummies, when they stray into the streets.

Dankovsky never gave such an order. The man in the puddle wears his intentions well: But I wouldn’t countermand it.

When you think about it, the only way to fight the plague is to resist your natural human desire to seek help, or even the comforting touch of another; instead you must succumb in solitude, to save others.

The nature of epidemics really is to target the most precious aspects of our being…

“What do I do? What do I do? I’m lost…”

Dankovsky first expects that wheedling voice to come from a child, but it’s too knowing, like it’s playing a game.

Sometimes they’re called mimes, but they talk too much. They’re more amused by the circumstances than the name Tragedian suggests. Subconsciously, Dankovsky has gotten into the habit of treating them as if there is not a human under that patchwork black cloth, but paper stuffing, or an animated wire frame. They’re an oddly useless counterpart to the orderlies, and they certainly don’t answer to the Bachelor.

“One of you?” he sighs, backing up a few steps. “What do you want from me this time…? Get it over with.”

The masked man dawdling under the streetlamp tips its head slowly one way, then the other. “His Excellency thinks I spoke to him?”

“I’m the only one on the street. Unless you’re raving, in which case I have no time for lunatics.”

“How cruel. In any case… I’ve lost my mask.” The Tragedian shields its eye-holes from the rain with a hand, and looked far and wide.

“It’s right on your head,” Dankovsky grouses. “Now what’s my reward for finding it, a bag of marbles? Or wait, you’ve lost those too.”

“Oh, no, not this. This is my face. You see how blank and plain it is? It wants a character, a role to play. A mask, a mask.”

Dankovsky folds his arms. “What about playing a man who doesn’t leave his house… wherever he comes from, his burrow, his den, and doesn’t get himself into trouble?”

The Tragedian offers an apologetic shrug and spread palms. “I tried it but alas, it weren’t for me. I didn’t know my lines, and came too late…”

The Bachelor mutters, “You’ll be a dog soon – playing dead.”

“I’ve lost a mask of careless cruelty… I think it would be fun to wear a while. It grins at simple victories and doesn’t shed a tear for those less fortunate. I’d like to be the one who laughs in Hell…”

“Fine, I’ll look for something like that… I suppose.” It wasn’t the first bizarre request he’d taken, and been able to fulfill despite not understanding it at first. Whatever the Tragedian was looking for, it would turn up eventually.

Now the Tragedian was clasping its hands together, pleading. It was remarkably expressive for having, as it said, such a blank face. “But if perhaps you’d let me borrow yours…”

“That’s completely unsanitary.” What kind of idiot request was that?

“I mean the one behind the cloth, the visage that regards the world so icily…”

The Tragedian pokes an impudent, spidery finger right between the Bachelor’s eyebrows, which pinch together in great chagrin.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at… but I get the impression you’re not asking for a real object.” He slaps the finger away. “If you want to wear my face, playact all you like. Just don’t impersonate me to anyone important, or use my name for any stupid ventures. Or you’ll regret it.”

Dankovsky leaves the actor to mime out his gratitude, head fervently bowing, clasped hands pumping up and down. He’d expected to get something out of this exchange, but perhaps it’s a longer-term investment. Or it’ll be quite the farce when the thespian starts wandering around the town pretending to be him. He’s not sure what he’s given away.

Signal fires mark the start of an infected district. He tightens the cloth around his mouth and nose and rushes in. There’s one house in particular he has to visit, so he very much intends to keep his head down all the way there.

His ears are assaulted by wails of the dying, carried far even by stagnant windless air.

At first he doesn’t understand why his skin is prickling. Senseless paranoia.

I gave away my mask…

It doesn’t mean anything!

But something’s changed in him for sure.

Even though it’s illogical, he’s shivering like ice has been poured down his shirt.

His eyes catch movement and he jolts away at first, because he’s learned to flee whenever a human shape stumbles across his path in districts like these. One filthy touch from any of these walking corpses could pass on the infection.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t come near me…”

“Help us…” the mummy gabbles. It’s sobbing under the linen wraps, but those cries might be of relief as well as pain. “Please, please, you’ve got to help us… I’ve been looking all over for a doctor… You’ve got pills, haven’t you? Kind sir… spare us something… even just a sleeping draught…”

Dankovsky should be fleeing, and he’s frozen instead. He should do the compassionate thing and put a bullet through this faceless cloth-wrapped head, and he cannot. He has the unsettling thought he would rather turn the gun on himself.

The supplicant takes his inaction as permission. Its hand has seized him and is crawling up his forearm, creeping as surely as a mold on a wall.

“There must be something…” the infected one pleads. “If only to… I just wanted to… oh, but it’s so… my head’s spinning… I can hardly hear myself, can you hear me? Am I speaking? Are you there?”

More dying souls are shambling out of the alleys and either they can smell healthy skin like sharks smell blood or they’re spotting him through the gauze over their eyes and immediately recognizing him. Two have emerged from behind one building… a third and fourth from a park…

The dead come to drag him down into the earth. Rain pours down his cheeks.

“Hey!”

There’s someone behind him, shouting, but he doesn’t realize it’s directed at him until—  

“What do you think you’re doing, dummy? Dummy Dankovsky!”

“Hah?” He’s unstuck when that strident childish voice pierces his ears through the white noise.

In comes charging none other than the wandering saint girl, shoes pattering and splashing through the sodden pavement. She spreads her palms out like she’s pushing out a great wave of force from them, some kind of heavenly wind, and even though no immediate magic goes off with a theatrical bang and puff of smoke, the sickened townsperson withdraws.

Clara catches Dankovsky’s arm. Her grip is mighty steel.

“You didn’t think you could heal them with your touch, did you?” Her tone is either mocking or heartachingly sincere. She’s too peculiar to ever be one thing or another, so maybe it’s both. “Don’t… don’t get those funny ideas into your head, okay? You’ll make people worry about you…”

Of course he finds her words ironic, but not surprising. It’s the usual way that young people parrot the things they’ve been told by others, as a way of expressing concern.

Especially ironic now that she’s extending her free hand towards the bandaged wretch, with a strained but beatific smile, flashing white teeth. Her fingers unfurl, flexing, preparing for an incredible sleight-of-hand.

“Don’t be scared,” coaxes the Changeling. “I’ll take care of you!”

“Careful—!” the Bachelor croaks, voice stolen by panic. But he still waits with bated breath, wondering if he’s about to witness a miracle.

But as soon as Clara’s palm brushes the gauze-wrapped fingertips, the infected person’s hands turn to claws. They gasp and clutch their chest, rocking on their heels, head bobbing.

It’s almost as if they’re trying to express a profound devotion and love that cannot fit inside them. Then they exhale without a word, collapsing in a heap, like a thread over their head has been snipped.

Clara’s smile shrinks by millimeters. Water droplets slide off it, dropping from the corners of her lips.

“Why…?” Her query is a quiet chime, a small tolling bell.

“Leave it, leave it. It was a myocardial infarction,” Dankovsky mutters. “Plainly, a heart attack. It’s usual for them to die like this in the end… Perhaps they were startled by us… Overwhelmed by a moment of hope.”

“I thought I was the one who healed…” the girl says, eyes fogged with confusion. “I mixed it up… Even we can’t tell us apart anymore…?”

Damn this… The girl’s delusions are only going to worsen now. Whoever’s been letting her roam about without supervision needs to rethink their priorities. She used to irritate Dankovsky with her proud preaching, and he was afraid she’d be able to stir the town’s population into a fervor. They come out of their homes in search of her sometimes.

Still, it’s possible she’s been witnessing frightening things for days — or longer? who knows where she came from or what she’s suffered to be without a family now — and has convinced herself she must have a purpose. Whose mind doesn’t falter like that in the face of an insane world?

The Bachelor doesn’t think he’s nearly as paternal as his rough-and-tumble counterpart, the favorite of the orphan underclass, Burakh. But Burakh’s not here right now.

Dankovsky slings a strict enclosing arm around Clara’s shoulders.

“You didn’t do it, Clara…” he commands her to believe, as his heart keeps minutely panging in that new way that he’s not accustomed to. “Don’t think about it. Pull that ratty scarf over your mouth and nose and keep moving.”

She’s stumbling after him, reluctantly keeping apace. “But can’t you see I’m not her…?”

“Whoever you are, I don’t care,” Dankovsky mutters. He stares only ahead, at the distant waterlogged signal pyre marking the invisible border between poison and safety.

#my fics #pathologic #daniil dankovsky #clara saburova #tragedian (pathologic)

[krowfics]

A Spider’s Shadow Chapter 8

Fandom: Warrior cats/Sander Sides

Ships: Prinxiety, Logicality, Dukeceit, otherwise platonic LAMP, familial Creativitwins+Thomas -eventual remile and eventual carrot kings but they will take a while-

Plot: Spiderpaw is the sole witness to a murder, due to this, he is no longer safe in Shadowclan. He soon finds himself amongst a group of secret rebels who disagree with the Warrior Code.

Words this chapter: 2172

Notes: Warriors typical violence/hunting, unsympathetic/morally gray Janus and Remus, Remus is Remus but it’s lil bit worse this time, mentioned animal cruelty: humans abandoning/killing kittens, Remus is sexist for a sec but immediately apologizes, mentioned poisoning

Shorts characters appear!

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

~~~

“Snakestar.” Ratpaw purred, burying his face in the other’s fur.

“You shouldn’t be here. I do have to go back soon, you know.” The new leader said but made no move to stop the other’s cuddling, “I told her to go ahead without me, that I needed a moment to process everything. I’m sure she’ll have absolutely no questions if I return smelling of Thunderclan.” he snarked.

“Like you’re above rolling around in leaf mulch.” Ratpaw grumbled, “Or pine mulch? That sounds sharp. I should try it sometime.”

“Just don’t expect me to groom the needles out of your pelt.” Snakestar roused.

“Oh, so you’ll groom me if I don’t?”

Snakestar sighed fondly. “Soon.” he said, rubbing his cheek against the other’s shoulder, “Soon we won’t have to worry about scent and sneaking off in the middle of the night.”

“Promises, promises.” Ratpaw said but it didn’t sound at all chiding.

Snakestar hummed, sinking his nose into the thicker fur around Ratpaw’s neck. “As much as I despise you going against the plan-” he didn’t, he was more than happy to see Ratpaw even if he worried of them getting caught, “-I am glad you decided to this time. We have run into a problem.”

Ratpaw’s pelt prickled. How could he not be filled with sudden anxiety? He was talking to said problem moments before he left camp.

“Don’t fret.” Snakestar breathed, “But my apprentice saw… Well, he saw enough and he ran. I’ve no idea where he is.” A bit of desperation slipped through his ever poised demeanor. “He headed towards Skyclan, I think, but it's not like I can just trot up to them and ask if they've seen a wayward witness."

Ratpaw swallowed. He didn’t think Snakestar would turn to killing Spiderpaw, but what else was he to do when the little mouseheart could ruin everything? He could ruin /everything/ and Ratpaw didn’t know what to do.

Lionbright was in love with Spiderpaw, even if he was to stupid to realize, it was plain as day to his littermate.

He should tell Snakestar but...

“What do we do?” Ratpaw asked.

Snakestar wrapped his tail around the other and pressed even closer, “I will figure it out, I promise.” 

The overwhelming feeling was back, overpowering the heart wrenching guilt. Like he was about to finally catch the rat he’d been stalking for so long. “I love you.” he said weakly, desperately.

Snakestar lifted his face slightly to lick Ratpaw’s cheek, “And I, you.” 

Ratpaw had to actively stop himself from reaching for Snakestar as the other left. He wanted nothing more than to hold him there and stay pressed against each other like that until they were crowfood themselves. He couldn’t have that. But he could have the next best thing, Snakestar had promised him that. All he had to do now was wait, and hope that he didn’t just ruin everything.

He stood there for a good while. Stuck, like he was a tree with roots grown into the ground, because he couldn't bear to take a step away from Snakestar's territory. But he managed eventually, heaving himself up onto four paws and trudging away towards the thunderpath.

He couldn't just go back to Thunderclan, not that he particularly cared what his clanmates smelled on him, but if they got suspicious of Shadowclan then the plan could be ruined.

So, he headed to the thunderpath, finding that little tunnel that traveled underneath it and stepped through. It was a familiar way he walked since he was a kit. Camp was always so boring so he and his littermate found the simple solution of sneaking off. Lionbright stopped once they got a bit older, trying to be mature for their father, yet Ratpaw just traveled farther.

Ratpaw wasn't all that interested in getting caught back then, and he'd often get away with cats just thinking he went down to the lake, not that a kit was supposed to do that anyway. Though now, it was a conscious effort to make Thunderclan think he was a wannabe kittypet rather than a future Shadowclan warrior. He couldn’t risk them thinking a Shadowclan cat was involved, especially now that Spiderpaw was her, he could probably smell who it was.

He blinked up at the light that started to show in the sky as he got out of the tunnel. It was barely sunrise, Ratpaw knew some kittypets were on their way to wake up their housefolk right about now. He couldn't fathom why they felt the need to brag about that, getting food in the morning if they yowled enough, knowing that if they were wild they could catch fresh kill whenever they wanted. But Ratpaw wasn't one to complain, he found it oddly fascinating even if he didn't understand it.

He trotted, forcing a bounce in his step and desperately trying to not think about the pesky little spider he impulsively chose to protect. He passed a few twoleg dens without much thought, his paws having traveled this rock path too many times to count.

"Hey, Rat!" he heard a call.

Perking up immediately, he turned to the voice. The tom was bouncing up to him, fat with twoleg stuff and awake with morning energy. 

"Nico." he mewed in return.

"How's my favorite clan cat doing?" he asked.

Ratpaw continued his trott, knowing Nico and him were heading to the same place, "Oh, you're picking favorites now? What about the dozens you haven't met?"

Nico laughed, "Well, I'm not training any of 'em, I'll stick with the rat." 

Ratpaw rolled his eyes, "I'm in distress as always. How's prey running for you- sorry, how's the begging for dead, hard, twoleg stuff going?" he teased.

"Hey, that last family gave me wet food." he said gruffly.

"Twolegs after my own heart. You’ll be a kittypet in no time."

Nico scoffed, “And risk missing morning gatherings?”

They came upon the gathering place then. It wasn’t the same as a clan gathering at all, more akin to clan meeting without any leaders. And with all their territory being so spread out, they had to pick a time and place to meet else they’d never hold any group conversations.

Not many came to morning gatherings but Ratpaw couldn’t often manage to make it to midday ones. Still, a decent size group was forming in the little area tucked in between twoleg dens. One of the queens had brought her kits, with them living so close by and the gatherings not having any sort of age limit, it didn’t make sense not to bring them. Andy had shown, which was always interesting because he was a cat who was somehow afraid of his own shadow, it was hilarious to startle him when he started being too much of a foxheart. Missy stepped around the corner, a scowl on her muzzle. 

Ratpaw liked Missy, she was actually unbelievably kind if you could get past her prickliness. 

“Hey, clan cat.” She mewed, “Still breaking all your codes?”

“Every single one.” He chirped.

Once it seemed that everyone who was going to show was there, the queen hopped up on a small, stone of an unnatural shape. Ratpaw figured that twolegs made it but he couldn't fathom how.

“I believe my housefolk intend to hide my kittens soon.” Percy stated. Her two kits looked up at her, just a bit miserable. 

Ratpaw’s claws slid out on instinct. Twolegs are so stupid. Some of them loved and cherished their cat denmates, but others couldn’t care less. Ratpaw really didn’t want to deal with any of them outside of getting free food, but the loners couldn’t even count on that, because they were often placed in capture-dens to be taken to the cutter. 

The cats of the twoleg area didn’t seem to mind the cutter, or ‘vet’ as they called them. He supposed it made sense if they never really planned on having kits, and most kittypets didn't, it was easy to get caught by some twolegs to get any ailments or injuries taken care of. It was fascinating that the bumbling two legged creatures could do the job of a medicine cat better than he'd ever imagined. They just take away your ability to have kits in the process, fair enough trade he supposed.

So twolegs weren’t completely useless, but Percy’s denmates absolutely were. She’d had three litters now, and the other two had been hidden. Normally, kittypet queens would lose their kits to neighboring housefolk making the kits their new denmates. Which usually worked out fine, because the kin could find each other at the gathering place again.

Yet, Percy’s twolegs hid them in enclosed caves made of weak material, just strong enough to keep the kits in. They’d be left on the side of thunderpaths or tossed into rushing rivers.

Nico straightened up, “I’ll stay near your den and organize a search group as soon as they’re hidden.”

The two kits turned their wide eyes to him, he gave them a warm smile in response. Ratpaw shuffled in his place next to Nico. 

“I’ll help if I’m in the area.” Ratpaw promised, “I’ll try to be.”

Percy turned to him then, “‘Couldn’t you take them to your clans for safety?” she asked.

Ratpaw bristled immediately. Apparently, some cats had gone to the clans for protection before and it had worked out well for them. But the kittypets and loners couldn’t seem to understand that there are five separate clans near the lake and Ratpaw didn’t even know which cats were not clan born.

His tail flicked, “Couldn’t you just let them stay at some loner’s place? They’ll end up at one after they’re rescued from being hidden.” If they’re rescued.

"I meant after," Percy shook her head, “It's hard to find enough food when you don't have a den or a clan.” Nico literally just offered to help them, and he was plenty good at getting food, “They can't leave now, the house folk will get suspicious that I can get out of the den on my own, then I’ll have no way of asking for help if I have more kittens.”

“You could just stop meeting up with toms.” Ratpaw snapped before he could think it through.

Missy smacked the back of his head in response, he deserved that one. Percy was glaring at him, somewhat guilty, somewhat furious. She had talked about how much she adored taking care of kits before, if she was a clan cat, Ratpaw was sure she’d be one of those permanent queens.

“Sorry, I-” Ratpaw tried, coming up with nothing, “Sorry.” He repeated. He let his claws slip in and out as he tried to figure out words without being a complete foxheart, “I’m not well liked in my clan, I break all of the rules and cause plenty of problems. Any kits I take back would be rejected. I’m sorry.” It wasn’t completely true. Redstar had a soft heart and Spiderpaw being where he was proved that, but the kits would not have it easy in Thunderclan due to Ratpaw being the one who found them, and Ratpaw would only cause more problems for them when he left.

Percy said nothing, just stared for a moment before hopping off the odd rock and sitting next to her kits. Grooming one of their heads without their input.

Missy hopped up next. She reported that more prey had been spotted on the other side of twoleg place. Kittypets and loners who were well off on food were asked to bring their kill to those who were not. 

It was a bit nicer than the clan's rules on the fresh kill pile in Ratpaw's opinion. If you needed the fresh kill yourself, eat it. If you didn't, give it to someone who did. Most cats obliged even though there were no repercussions for hoarding it for yourself. 

No one else had much to say the group quickly became more of a social event, cats sharing tongues and play-fighting. Nico stood, "Wanna get some training in?"

Ratpaw perked up immediately, “When do I not?”

He followed Nico a distance away from the other cats, still staying in the same area in case one of them wanted to join. Nico volunteered to train anyone he could with anything he knew how to do. Ratpaw brought up fighting and hunting as a joke long ago. He was practically a kittypet, how would he know how to fight? But he turned out to be quite skilled and more than happy to teach Ratpaw.

"Now now," Nico spoke, "What should you learn today?"

"Cruelest tricks to use in battle? How to emotionally manipulate your opponents?  Poisoning via deathberry- Oh wait! I know that one already."

Nico rolled his eyes, "You're a menace, aren't you?"

"You looove me." Ratpaw leaned hard onto his side, just to be obnoxious.

Nico scoffed, "Like my own kitten. Now, how about you knock over an opponent twice your size?"

Ratpaw grinned, "I'd love to."

~~~

Remus pov my beloved

uh in case my cat wordings are too vague: the weird rock cats stand on is a brick and ‘hiding’ cats is abandoning them in boxes/bags

Tags~ @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare

#sander sides #a spider's shadow #dukeceit #prinxiety #sander sides nico #sanders shorts characters #percy sanders #missy sanders #morally gray remus #morally gray janus #thekrowiswriting #animal abuse mention

[starryocean]

I completely forgot to do this a few days ago, but I actually finished reading So I’m a Spider LN vol 11. Thoughts below. No spoilers in comments, please.

So, it’s actually kind of funny, because this was the exact sort of content I needed out of the later volumes. I’ve been kicking around an AU idea in my head for a week or so now, and I actually needed exactly what the novel gives--a sort of expansion/overview of the sorts of things Julius did up until his adulthood and the Demon War. It also helps to very nicely connect the past and the present together, so that you can go back and read Shun’s perspective again and kind of have all this nice context for certain things now.

So, yeah, I liked that a lot. Funny how the thing that most of the Amazon reviews seem to hate about this entry is actually what I loved about it. I also liked some of the bits that showed that Shun very obviously was not a normal child right from the start, and people could tell. Like, telling Sue Japanese legends and myths, claiming he saw it all in his dreams, being very emotionally mature...that was some good detail work.

It also affirmed my headcanon that Hyrince and Julius knew each other from a young age. I actually don’t remember if it was stated before or not, but I do think I remember something about Hyrince being nobility. Maybe in the web novel? Because I did read part of the web novel before I got into the LN, and I remember being surprised at how much changed...

There was one big thing that I didn’t like, though. Namely, the Youth chapter. Including a tentacle rape monster that canonically targets young women over men got a really big eye roll and “seriously?” from me, especially since Okina Baba has been good about subverting expectations, as I’ve said multiple times before. So having that sort of thing show up was a pretty huge let down.

Then, the conversation that I know most people on tumblr are going to hate as soon as they read.

Like, I kind of agree with the concept in principle: teenagers need to be able to know they’re not wrong to have sexual desire, and they need to be able to express it healthily and safely without fear of being prejudiced or shamed or preyed upon or what-have-you. But the execution of this sort of conversation in the text was...bad. It relied on a lot of anime tropes and cliches that ultimately dragged down the central theme. That, and the whole “I’mma keep it real with you Shinzo Abe the 57th Prime Minister of Japan, this will not improve Japan’s declining birth rate” aspect.

I did like that the adults in the room were trying to be supportive of these idiot teenagers, but what with the way it was written, it fell flat and came across as borderline inappropriate.

Another thing I didn’t like is again tied to the sexuality thing: namely, Julius talking about the size his female friend’s chests. I get it, he’s a teenager at this point. And yeah, that’s a common trope in anime, I get it. But it’s very very tiring to come from a conversation that completely mishandled its subject and then go into an already unfunny/dumb trope on that same subject. And I’m tired of seeing it in anime in general. I honestly thought Spider was above that. I guess not.

It did somehow segue into getting Sanatoria more characterization than just “Boobah Lady” though. I really liked the way the author handled Sanatoria’s reactions and her trauma about seeing someone literally eaten in front of her--it felt very real. Of course the sounds of chewing could be a potential trigger for her, after witnessing something like that. Ariel really is playing up her cruelty, here, but I think I understand why. A kind leader would not be able to get away with forcing the demons into war again, after they’re suffering so much. She would be overthrown, or at least there would be way more attempts to try that would drain on their species even more.

But a feared leader can prevent more overthrow attempts from happening, since Ariel’s style makes it clear that the war is happening, one way or another. This causes more people to give up while they’re ahead, such as Ricep earlier and Sanatoria here. And considering her strength, she’s able to back up her threats, making examples of the ones who don’t fit her plan.

Note, I’m not advocating for this kind of leadership. It’s a terrible way to rule, and it’s presented as a terrible thing in the text. But I understand why she chose this route, and I have to wonder just how much damage will be done to the demon race by the end of it. I hope their people make it out okay, and I really hope the story doesn’t play into it’s genocide themes that it has going on with both them and the elves. I really, really hope that the elves don’t get genocided, just because Potimas is leading them.

Because, again, what about the elves that don’t know the depth of what’s going on? Do they deserve to die? They may have helped, but they assume they’re doing the right thing, and can’t be shamed for wanting to help save the world. That’s not a bad thing to want, even if you get misled on what needs to be done to do it. It’s not their fault. Potimas is a bad guy, yeah, but his whole species can’t be blamed for his crimes.

anyway, looking forwards to the next volume, maybe we’ll finally figure out what happened after Shun passed out upon maxing Taboo.

#phoenix says boring stuff #so im a spider so what #so im a spider spoilers #so im a spider so what spoilers #kumoko #kumoko spoilers #kumo desu ga nani ka spoilers #kumo desu ga nani ka #kumo desu ga #kumo desu ga spoilers #reading tag

[ikeservant]

Hello hope you are doing well!!! Can I ask for hc for Kenshin, Ieyasu, and Hideyoshi (or anyone else you want) discovering that MC is a hardcore otaku who thirsts over anime/otome boys😂😂? Maybe Sasuke gotta help explain to the warlords what even anime/otome is XD Thank you all the time I love your stuff!!!

Ahh thank you so much!I love this prompt lol! I’m dummy weak thinking about a bunch of 1500s warlords finding out in the future that people write headcanons/fanfics/fanart of them dream about fictional dudes. I’m people 😂. Also put what genre/type of anime they’d be into if they were able to be introduced to anime and manga.

Kenshin: Probably thought that Sasuke and MC were siblings because of her using similar weird words and fangirling during the weirdest times. Sasuke would explain to him how from their time that stories and tales were widespread and had vivid illustrations that people would gather around and develop a fanbase. Would be very confused to see keychains and anime merch from MC’s bag from the future. When he asked why there were decorations of 2D men, MC excitedly explained how they were all “best boys” and tell their stories and tales, meanwhile Kenshin was glaring daggers at these fictional men that pose a threat. “Kenshin your yandere side is showing. You are the bestest boy and you’re the only one I want to wifey up.” He’ll have to ask Sasuke what half of that sentence meant, but he was pleased that he was the 3D man that she chose. If MC could bring back some manga/anime for Kenshin, he’d be in love with any war/gore and action based ones. Not necessarily for characters but how cool the action and fight scenes are and wants to try them out with Sasuke (run Sasuke).

Ieyasu: Was very confused when they first met and MC was very eager and pushy to get to know him better. “Why are you following me, you weakling?” “I know you’re a tsundere. You’re hard on the outside but gooey on the inside. I’ve played so many routes with tsunderes that I shall uncover you in no time. Just like the simulations!” *cue Ieyasu thinking MC is absolutely insane and going the complete opposite direction*. Eventually MC grew on him and he did end up softening up and falling in love (JUST LIKE THE SIMULATIONS! SCORE FOR MC). Would find a lot of the terminology MC uses weird but still made him want to learn what it meant.  Did not know what “I ship it” meant when MC chuckled that when he started complaining about Mitsunari, but rest assured will gag when he finds out. Startles MC when they’re laying in bed and he says “I.. ship us.” awkwardly trying to use her weeb terminology, earning a kiss for this cute tsundere 😉. If MC could bring back some manga/anime, he’d be very intrigued with complex characters and plots that have both dark and light elements and have an overall empowering message. Relates to characters that have a tragic backstory but endure and grow stronger and roots for them in the end. (Might imagine MC as the love interest but don’t tell MC that)

Hideyoshi: Now the first thing coming out of MC’s mouth when he decided to trust her and smile at MC while offering to be friends and help carry the vase she was carrying was “A-am I witnessing gap moe in real life?” with a look of utter awe. This confused the heck out of him, “M-my name’s Hideyoshi. Who’s Gap-Moe?” Eventually would get used to the random terminology, although very confused. When he saw the anime themed keychains and wallet in MC’s purse and asked about it, he should’ve prepared tea because that was a looong lecture that he understood nothing of but found it adorable how excited MC was talking about it. “Wait so what are fangirls?” “You know those girls in town that rush to you and gush over you? Those are fangirls. My fangirl group just goes after fictional guys.”, making him confused even more while also lowkey wishing MC was his fangirl and wondering if he is a fanboy for MC (spoiler alert: he IS. And he’s a fanboy for Nobunga). Made him realize how much MC made his kokoro go doki doki (this is the most otaku trash phrase I’ve ever said). If MC could bring manga/anime, he’d love anime where good trumps evil and heroes defeat villains because he loves imagining defeating injustice and having a happy ending for Japan while defeating the cruel enemies and rivals around Nobunga. Also loves emotional/heart wrenching love story manga and anime that make you cry and get hit hard in the feels with the characters b/c he’s such a romantic with a big heart. Would hug the hell out of MC after finishing of any of those types of series while saying that he will always love her‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

Bonuses b/c I thought they’d be fun:

Shingen: Literally finds anything about MC fascinating, and the fact that they’re passionate about fictional stories and are so emotionally touched by them made him love that MC had a big heart, even for fictional characters. Gets a lil jealous when MC starts fawning over specific fictional dudes. When MC and Shingen are a couple and she starts talking about one of her fictional baes he’d probably literally sweep her off her feet and say something cheesy like “But can he do this” and swoop in for dat kiss. Would probably find his own meaning in the terminology and use it. “This is my waifu, my goddess, I am her biggest fanboy.” is how he’d probably introduce MC as (swoon). If MC could bring manga/anime, he’d be a hardcore sucker for romance anime and would reenact many of the romantic scenes, even the confession scenes. “Shingen we’re married. This is the 45th time you’ve confessed to me.” “But not like from this anime (´•ω•̥`). Would also like detective/mystery series bc he likes unraveling mysteries and plays behind the scenes.

Yukimura: “Not another Sasuke-speaker.” Would be hanging out with MC and Sasuke and listening to the weird terminologies. Would also probably make fun of MC at first for her fantasizing about fictional men and having merch of them saying “Is that cuz you can’t get a real life man?” (cue the heated arguing). Would eventually be intrigued by some of the story plots MC tells him and would eventually fall for her nerdiness and everything. Would ask Sasuke for help on coming up how to confess to MC like in the anime and otome games she talks about (A for effort, my boy). Would be a blushy puddle but puff his chest out if MC fangirled over him. If MC could bring anime and manga, he’d freaking LOVE superhero anime bc he just wants to save everyone and do whats right and he just looks like the type of dude that loves superheroes and superpowers and gets pumped when the hero defeats the bad guy.

Mitsuhide: Would be curious about these strange, foreign words MC says, even though its just fangirl lingo from 500 years in the future. Would probably tease MC if they had any keychains or small merch of anime characters. “Why have a pocket-sized man to love if there’s a full sized one right here.” 😉. Would find it very creative that there’s so many diverse stories and characters. Loves when MC gets excited talking about story plots, gets a lil jealous and tries steering the topic away from thirsting over the dudes. Would probably confess his feelings by saying “Is there a real life story about a kitsune falling for a foolish mouse and they become lovers for eternity?” “Not that I know of.” “Want to make that story happen?”. Would love speaking modern slang and otaku terms with MC because its like their own little love language and it also pisses Hideyoshi off since he doesn’t understand wtf they’re saying. If MC brought manga/anime, would love psychological based horror, seeing how characters react to scary situations and what’s the mental breaking point to madness, or plots with mind games and outwitting opponents bc he’s all about that big brain and likes seeing characters creatively outsmart enemies. Likes characters that are morally gray/antihero that do good but do so in unorthodox ways bc he relates to them (and is secretly smug if MC says they need more love bc it feels like she’s saying that about him too). Likes stories w/ bittersweet endings because he likes seeing the beauty in things while acknowledging the harshness and cruelty of life as well.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen headcanon #ikesen hc

[farzeenx234]

Before night falls

It’s difficult to describe the tone of “Before Night Falls” in a single word. If I had to put it in a word it would be direct. Reinaldo Arenas knows exactly what he wants the world to know and writes it as such. While I was reading, I would question myself about what I just read due to the fact I’ve never read something quite like it.” Although all this existed only in my imagination, for quite a long time I was obsessed with the vision of my naked grandfather.”(Arenas 18). The atmosphere goes with the tone, as I was reading it felt like Reinaldo Arenas was in a room talking to someone and I was there. It’s hard to describe the exact feeling but I felt like he was writing exactly what came to mind. It felt like he didn’t question what he wrote down and asked himself if he should change words around. The book reminds me of a river by how well it flows. Each part is it’s own story and they all come together to create something extremely vivid. While reading this, I was shocked, and at one point, I had to put the book down. I could not handle the description of animal cruelty that Arenas had written about. Arenas mentions witnessing that  “Sheep would be hung by their legs to have their throats slit, and after the blood had been drawn, while they were still half alive, they would be cut into pieces” (Arenas 20). There were so much cruelty and pain around people and animals. It made me think about what the people in the town had experienced and what cruelty they do to each other. Arenas mentions, “We had returned to the times of Nero, the times when the masses rejoiced in watching how a human being was being condemned to death or murder before their eyes” (Arena, 59). People enjoyed the fact that they could get someone killed if they disagreed with Fidel Castro’s belief. Surprisingly, Arenas did not end up as a cruel person who would give up those around him in Castro's support. The university he attended had brainwashed everyone who attended, but he saw what was going on before public knowledge. Arenas even admitted that there were people in power who were openly gay but were not arrested because they supported communist Cuba. Arenas was educated and knew how to use his words to create a reaction. If he wanted to, he could have climbed the political ladder and loved whom he wanted, but he kept his viewpoint and saw the system's right and wrong.

[beneaththetangles]

Every Father Loves His Son

Do you love your father? Does your father love you?

For many of us, the answer to those questions is a given: Yes, of course. But for others, the answer is complex, revealing relationships fraught with complications; or it may simply be a resounding no. Absence, abuse, neglect, adultery, divorce, and so many other actions can cause a child’s trust to break and set a curse upon him or her, one that may take decades to break, if it ever does at all.

Father-son relationships, both good and bad, form a framework for the Vinland Saga anime, and particularly through a negative one during the middle portion of this run. Episode 14 of the series opens with a shot of the bearded and partially disrobed King Sweyn of the Danes, scars crisscrossing his back. The imagery may be meant to evoke Christ, though it’s not the beloved one who went to the cross in place of mankind; instead, this is a terrible and cruel king.

Sweyn’s relationship with one of his sons, Canute, reveals his inadequacies. While he feigns a fear that the boy, whom he sent to besiege the Goliath-like warrior, Thorkell, may be dead, the king is actually hoping that this misfortune has come to pass—he ordered the prince into danger so that he will be killed, leaving the Sweyn’s other son, Harald, to be his successor.

Despite the circumstances, the timid and childlike Canute clings to the image of a good father, one who loves him without condition. Later, after being taken hostage by the pirate Askeladd, who has executed the entire populace of an English village, he kneels before a cross set at their grave, along with his guardian, Ragnar, and Willibald the priest. In a moment of despair, Willibald confesses that he doubts God’s goodness. The normally reserved Canute becomes livid, and says that he must not doubt that the Father is good. After all, as he retorts, “Every father loves his son.”

Later, a flashback helps to fill in the story between father and son. A young Canute has prepared a dish for the king, but it is not received well; Sweyn tosses the food aside, screaming at the prince for acting “like a slave.” Ragnar tries to explain away the king’s action, babying Canute as he always does, but the viewer knows the truth: While Canute is a faithful son, his father is a tyrant.

Later in the series, another father-son relationship, just as unforgiving and abusive, takes center stage. Askeladd, who like Ragnar to Canute, is somewhat a (twisted) father figure to the series protagonist, Thorfinn, recalls his own childhood. His father was a Dane who enslaved his Welsh mother. She is thrown aside and descends into madness, eventually confronting her former master. As he lifts his sword to slay her, the young Askeladd steps in. Impressed by his courage and skill, his father takes him in and trains him, but the scheming Askeladd is just biding his time. He later murders his dad and frames a step-brother.  The recollection is told when Askeladd, pained by the death of his right-hand man, Bjorn, and frustrated with Thorfinn’s continual desire to duel him (Askeladd’s men killed Thorfinn’s father, Thors, years prior), explains more than emotion is required to successfully fuel vengeance. One also needs the wherewithal to follow through fully on his intentions.

Canute stands as witness during the duel between Askeladd and Thorfinn (what would be their final one). By this point, the prince has overcome his timidity and is himself scheming to commit patricide and regicide both, empowered by Askeladd and Thorkell, who have become his retainers. The change of heart occurs as Canute, previously so devout, comes to a realization regarding fatherly love, and decides to rebel against God:

“Is there no love in the hearts of men? Is anyone sane in this world? Everyone’s the the same. No one knows how to love. No one knows the meaning of life. No one knows the meaning of death. No one even knows why they’re fighting. I’ve had enough. I’m sick of it. What we lost in exchange for wisdom, the most important thing, it’s something that we’ll never get back as long as we live. We’ll never attain it. Yet, even then, you still tell us to seek it? Father in Heaven…I no longer seek your salvation. If you will no longer give us salvation, then with our own hands on this earth, we shall create our own paradise.”

Canute sees God’s silence as worth fighting against, and decides to create his own “paradise” on earth, even if it means “becoming a demon” to obtain. That line of thought falls right matches Askeladd’s, who says that no matter who you believe in as God, it’s up to humans to do the deeds, to make change happen. They both seem to believe in the watchmaker theory, that God has set the world in motion and now just observes without intervening.

It’s not reasonable for Canute for Askeladd to think this way. They grew up in a world where religion is hardly is questioned. They are knee deep in the middle ages, with the Enlightenment and its scientific values, offering a further way to think about the universe, almost a century away. And they have witnessed and been party to a violent, unforgiving world. Askeladd fully participates in it, killing the good man, Thors, among many misdeeds in his long life. But most personally, he and Canute saw cruelty up close at a young age from the very men who should be kindest to them, the men who should most closely resemble the kind, selfless Christ. And yet those men killed, waged war, destroyed, and abused them, their family, and other innocents.

And in this madness, what they’ve concluded is that God is silent. He doesn’t deliver the good from the hands of the evil. And so they both spiritually “overthrow God” by killing him, Askeladd literally assassinates Sweyn, the perverted image of Christ, by beheading him. This occurs mere days after Sweyn’s son put his belief in Christ, also perverted by poor theology, to death.

In Shusaku Endo’s classic book, Silence, he, too, investigates the question of “Why is God sometimes silent in times of great suffering?” in a historical setting, but this one hundreds of years later and across the world, focusing on the persecution of Christians by the shogunate as the Edo era begins. As violent as Vinland Saga is, Silence is even more difficult to swallow, as the government tortures and executes loving, kind Japanese believers in front of the foreign Jesuit missionaries that are their true targets. The man at the center of the narrative, the priest Rodrigues, begins to lose faith: How can God allow this to happen? The power to stop it, as is explained to him, is completely in his hands: Rodrigues need only step on the fumie, thus rejecting his faith, and the torture and violence will end.

It would be too unkind, too flippant, to give the typical church response to this question, which is that the suffering around us is mostly due to sin, and that Christ offers us freedom through his grace, though because we live in a fallen world, we may still endure pain—even terrible suffering—until one day when we walk into eternity with him. As much truth as this statement carries to believers, it doesn’t convey the image of a loving God to those who are suffering now. What of the child soldiers in Africa who are victims of violence and turned into killing machines, much like Thorfinn? Of villages wiped out across the world in acts of genocide, not too distant a scene than that of Askeladd’s killing of the peaceful Christians in Vinland Saga? Of parents who abuse their children and families and destroy their lives, as with the fathers of both Askeladd and Canute? The promise of salvation seems too far off, too unreal when someone is trying to kill a young child right now.

I see the rationale in the biblical answer, and I trust in God’s ways. I believe that the fall is our fault, that the terrible things we think and do are because of the sin we’ve committed, the sin done upon us especially by loved ones, and the sins of our society. I believe, too, that Jesus’s death and resurrection means that for eternity, for the 99.99%+ of our “lives,” we’ll live in peace and goodness. And I believe that the kingdom is here now, too, and that when we live like Christ, we can change the direction of our lives and in the lives of others.

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t wrestle with God, like Jacob did; it doesn’t mean that I don’t struggle with my own pains, and see how much more challenging life is for others, and then struggle further. My faith sometimes really isn’t faith at all—it’s a “giving up,” proclaiming that “God is good” instead of continuing to dive deeply into the problem of suffering, which is to say that I would rather follow blindly than consider issues that poke (or spear) at my faith. After all, my faith is imperfect, my mind is small, and my willingness to love is limited—which all means, I suppose, that I do need God desperately after all. On one hand, I’m like Canute, questioning and even blaming God (What response would he have given me had I been one of Job’s counselors?!), and with the other, turning to him in thankfulness and petition because I believe in his truth and have experienced his forgiveness. I am forgiven, but the human in me still fights against the holiness of my new heart and stumbles along the prideful path I’ve carved rather than the narrow but beautiful one God has laid out for me.

I think that, like Canute and Askeladd, I don’t only consider the misery of the present—I get lost in it. I forget both about the kingdom I’ll one day walk into, and also the kingdom now that fights against the evil forces of darkness all around us. Canute blames God and wants to spit in his face, but forgets the blessing he’s received, that despite the abuse at his father’s hands, he was given opportunity to be in a position to help bring peace, one which God would want for us, to a world that isn’t peaceful. The Father desires peace on earth among his creation, while more importantly offering peace to each of us in our hearts, even while we try to snatch that blessing away from one another. But then like Canute, we blame a God who doesn’t snap his fingers to make everything “perfect,” while he is actually here with us fighting by our side.

And in that way, his relationship to us is mirrored in the healthiest father / son dynamic in Vinland Saga—that of Thors and Thorfinn.

This father loves his son and protects him. This father even loves his enemies, punishing them, but still offering mercy. This father chooses death rather than to kill those he rightly should. Thors, now years (and by the finale, some 20 episodes) removed from the tale, is a good father, full of love and justice. And like the Heavenly Father, even though no longer physically in front of Thorfinn, Thors is still drawing him near, with memories of his goodness and visions that encourage him to forgive. The world has been terrible to Thorfinn, but the specter of his dad is even now trying to bring him peace. Why does Thorfinn not kill Askeladd, who he has sought vengeance on after all these years, even when the pirate is dying and tells him to drive the final knife home? It’s because that even though his hateful emotions erupt frequently, deep inside, Thorfinn has started to take his father’s lessons to heart; he has forgiven Askeladd for his crime, and further, as evidenced by how he returns to save the old man during Thorkell’s river attack and by his tears during their final goodbye, even loves him.

“Every father loves his son.” Canute’s statement isn’t true, not even about his own dad, but it is true if you add “good” into it: “Every good father loves his son.” A good father wants what’s best for his child, which isn’t riches, comfort, or even happiness, though the latter is a byproduct of the greater gift he would bestow. He wants to give his child “peace.” Thors walked away from the Jomsvikings because he desired to rear a family in peace, without war and far away from the evil of man. And even now, a decade or more after his death, he still follows Thorfinn, gently pushing to him to make peace with himself and others, to forgive.

And in these visions, Thors also does one thing in addition. He reminds his son of a dream to settle in Vinland, a world not so harsh as their Icelandic home, a land filled with green hills and rich soil. It is a place beyond the horizon, unspoiled by mankind and its violence, where suffering is no more. A perfect place. A land of peace.

The land to which the good father leads.

=====

Vinland Saga can be streamed on Amazon Prime.

#Anime #Christianity #Vinland Saga #Silence #Shusaku Endo #Chinmoku #Articles #Author: TWWK

[minotaurman-ayjay]

ACAB - Leaving Wonderland

This will be a post on how I used to support the police, and how I’ve changed.

I will also write on this later. This will be detailing…

How increased coverage on Police Brutality changed my mind

Recollections on institutionalized racism, racism in police culture, and racism among civilian employees that I worked with as well as the police themselves.

How the very police department that I worked for mishandled my report, put me in danger, and how they treated me as a mentally ill civilian.

How police departments become corrupt, and how chain of command becomes compromised.

And lastly, how I was treated by my coworkers and supervisors after filing my report, and how they handled my mental and personal crisis, forcing me to quit and forever changed my outlook towards police.

I used to work for the police department in a civilian division. I was really good at my job, and loved the job that I did because I felt like I was helping people. I never really knew the outcome of those that I helped, and have helped many people out of volatile domestically centered situations. I helped spoke to fellow mentally ill citizens, especially those that were suicidal. I never really knew the outcome of my clients, because we weren’t really supposed to know unless it’s for official reasons. It’s a very thankless job, but it feels good to just be there for someone.

However, that slowly got tainted as 1) department wide corruption reared it’s ugly head and 2) how the division I worked for became toxic.

We had a black police chief for quite some time. Things were handled differently, and as painfully awkward he was on the PR front, he was really good at caring for people. And I feel like he legitimately did. He made a lot of changes in the department, and had different classes and training specifically for dealing with people who are mentally ill. Classes for “LGBT and Racial sensitivity”, and “Emergency De-escalation for Mentally Ill Civilians”  that basically amounted to “Treat everybody like a human being. Yes. Everybody. Not just WASPs. “ and “Don’t just shoot that guy because he’s having a violent psychological breakdown” and was always de-escalation before violence for *everybody*.

And then he was fired, and the reason for it was very vague and flimsy. Something that we were spoonfed and expected to accept. Hindsight tells me that it was most likely was for racial reasons and hiding those reasons behind “He embarrassed us at Washington DC and he used police resources for personal gain”. Like if such crime was committed, where are the receipts for it? Seriously, where is the evidence??? We weren’t allowed to know that much.

I asked way too many questions on this matter, and I’m pretty sure this is what got the higher ups pissed at me just enough that they opportunistically struck on me and force me to quit.

 --- more on that later, I’m trying to keep this as linear as possible ---.

A new police chief was soon appointed and to my (not) surprise, he is a Godfearing white guy who would suck Trump’s orange stump once he is within eyeshot of the guy.

Then the “LGBT and Racial Sensitivity” classes and classes how to handle the mentally ill disappeared for “budget cuts”. I’m certainly hoping that their crisis intervention that is de-escalation based and social worker run continues to be a thing and won’t be done away with because of this new leadership.

Now that the very top is corrupt and obviously not for the People, it enabled racist assholes with a god complex to come out of the goddamn woodwork. He started appointing people with his same views, etc.

Let’s get into Police Culture real quick. Police Culture is known for it’s Good Ol’ Boy mentality. Something that has supposed to have changed. It’s always been dominated by white men, and obviously, the white men within it are going to make sure that it stays that way. Again, hindsight has taught me, that police culture will never change because even though there are people on the inside who want to change it, white centric corruption will always be there to whisk it away.

I had been looking for another job to get out of the Department as my support for the police and for the Department itself began to wain. During this time, I would find an employer who sounded like they would move mountains to hire me... and then suddenly I would hear nothing. 

Then, there was some massive leadership reshuffling in my Division, and these were people who should not have been there at all. Remember when I asked too many questions about why the recent police chief was fired? These people were against that chief and are very pro-this chief. Shocking, right? So of course, me who did not like this chief (but was not outward it) or at very least had the AUDACITY to question something that was so obviously bullshit instead of accepting what I was spoonfed like everybody else.

... this is another point on how police culture works. The nail that stands out the most gets hammered. The loosest screw gets screwed..

---This is how I get screwed---

 then something happened to me that required me needing the police to help me.

TL;DR AND CW: PET DEATH, ANIMAL CRUELTY

I found my dog stabbed to death, most likely by my exroommates who still had a key... It happened while I was getting knew locks for my house. I called the police, and they took a report. But they did not collect any evidence that was obviously tied to what happened. The reporting officer pushed it through as an Information Only report because HE had concluded that my dog was mauled. He wasn’t even a detective. He was a REPORTING OFFICER who came to a conclusion and used that conclusion to dictate how my report went through --- 

*This was how we USED to (or so I thought) treat people who were mentally ill and constantly, frequently, calling with bizarre cases* It was active discrimination against the mentally ill that puts them in danger. I was “mentally apped” a long time ago, (where they take you to a hospital against your will. This is on your personal record forever and can fuck with getting driver’s license, and other things) and concluding something just because it doesn’t add up for “information only” was an old practice that I thought had been done away with.

but did anybody care about this? No, of course not. We were on different management. Months pass despite me blowing up the phones of Sergeants and the Detective that was assigned to my case.

I was talking to peer support to help me go through this, I told them what was going on with my life and what I was doing. They told me not to call these Sergeants and Detectives again and to wait for them to contact me.

I was then put under investigation for “Using police resources for personal gain”, and my supervisor had told me that I was harassing detectives and sergeants. Harassing them to do their job and pick up evidence? Sure.

Since I was under investigation, I was given an alternative assignment. I was put on a different shift--- Something that should have never happened because the shift that I was working was for medical reasons. I was on a rough antipsychotic medical schedule to keep my bipolar disorder and psychosis in check. My shift changed, which caused my medication to not work like it used to. 

I was also put in a room with a shitty chair that fucked with my osteoarthritis in my hip... another ADA accommodation that had been violated. They refused to give me a new chair and doctors notes were mysteriously never received. My ADA accommodations had suddenly disappeared, because we had changed to a 3rd party to handle ADA accommodations. We were told that resubmitting accommodations was not necessary as they are still active for the year--- That was a lie.

I eventually spiraled and had to go back to the mental hospital. I was under investigation for 3 months. I was stressed out of my mind and my medication was not working.

My therapist at the mental hospital had many one-on-ones with me, because she was concerned. She said that what I was going through was workplace abuse. This piled on top of the grief of losing my PTSD companion dog in a terrible, vicious, violent, senseless way, was not good for my already fragile mental health.

Before I went to the mental hospital, I had found out that Peer Support had told the administration what I was doing, and what I was going through. This was what triggered the investigation. 

TW.... SUI IDEATION AND PLAN....

Because of this, I was probably a day or so away from running away to the creek and overdosing in a place where my girlfriend couldn’t find me. My life had been turned upside down, and nobody was helping me. My workplace didn’t care. Their treatment of me became abusive when I needed them the most.

I quit after getting out of the mental hospital. Ever since then, I’ve had an issue with becoming employed elsewhere.

There are no good cops. Good cops do not last long. If a good cop ends up becoming police chief, he ends up being overthrown by the white male majority, because of white-centric police culture. This caused a lot of changes that fucked a lot of civilians and civilian employees over. There was one police involved slaying shortly after these changes were made, and it’s the same ol’ song and dance that’s going on across america.

I will never support the police again. Not only because of my personal experience, but because I understand and have witnessed the culture, and how institutionally racist it is. 

I am sorry that I ever supported the police. I am sorry that I worked for an entity that actively suppresses minorities and actively suppresses Freedom of Speech for the interest of corporations. I realize that I couldn’t be both a Black Lives Matter supporter and a police supporter. I chose Black Lives Matter as I saw the police brutality that I now realize that has always been there. I chose black lives matter as I watched a white police chief do away everything that was progressive. I chose Black Lives Matter as I increasingly worry about my friends of color as hate continues to spread and increase.

I was in the division that I chose because I felt that I was helping people. I thought working with the police was what was going to enable me to help people. That became apparent that wasn’t true the moment we switched police chiefs. We’ve become just like any other police department in the country.

I’m sorry.

#bloggy #personal #acab #no good cops #fuck the police

[freckled-words]

Repost:Unpaid Punishment Prt 6

edited by @the-wild-ego

WARNINGS: IMPLIED RAPE

Snow was falling in large, thick flakes. A layer of 2 inches covered the parking lot and all the cars that were parked there. 

The flakes and the occasional gust of winter wind didn’t touch you. Yet, you still hugged yourself as soon as Phantom let go of your hand. 

“This could be described as a rather picturesque moment. Such a shame something happened and ruined it for you.” again, no sympathy touched his words. Which didn’t matter to you anymore. He wasn’t dragging you through this Hell to show you sympathy. Both of you were there for the sake of making a lesson stick. A lesson you didn’t need. 

‘It had just been an accident,' your irritation simmered in your gut. The blanket no longer there to keep you calm. 

As you saw a hunched figure trek through the snow, you settled on a decision. No one deserves this level of cruelty over an accident. Not for some internship, no matter how prestigious it was. Once you were free from this, and unless he intended to fire you, you were going to quit. 

You didn’t wait for Phantom to give the order, or to tow you by the leash. You marched forward, following after the figure.

When they made it to the shelter of the college entrance overhang, it was clear that it was you. 

Gone was the punk phase, in was the college student. 

Your hair was a bit wilder, dark circles under your eyes told of sleepless nights, and the grey sweatpants weren’t for the warmth. 

You took some pride in the fact that they weren’t stain covered or overly baggy. They were clean and matched with your grey college sweater beneath your winter jacket. 

Phantom had stayed at your elbow, and continued to do so as you kept pace behind yourself. 

“Here for some late night research?” Phantom’s question was honest in its curiosity. 

“No. A meeting with...my teacher. This is exam week, so this was the only time he had available for me. My grades weren’t the best, so I’d asked him for an extra credit assignment to at least get me a pass for this semester….I should have just eaten the F.”  You spit the bitter words out of your mouth. 

Phantom didn’t make a comment. That was plenty to tell him what to expect. 

By the time you’d reached the office door, you’d removed your winter coat and held it over your arm. Self conscious you gave your hair a quick brush through with your fingers. 

You knocked, and the door opened a second later. 

Phantom’s brow quirked when you gave a huff. A wry, crude smile on, you muttered darkly, “Now I see it.”

“See what?” 

They followed you and the older man into his office. He invited you to sit down and offered you a mug filled with warm cider. 

“Having worked with you this long, I’ve managed to pick up on your small facial tics. Particularly when you meet someone you’re interested in adding to your collection.” the smile was gone, your eyes were narrowed in on the mug. 

Phantom rubbed his thumb over the crystal on his cane. Studying the man, he could see what you were talking about. 

Although his eyes seemed generally set on your face, his pupils were more specifically aimed to your lips as you sipped the cider. The corners of his lips were tipped higher up than his neutral expression needed, saying he was pleased about something. As he spoke, apologizing for making you come to the school at this hour during exam week, he drew out his sentences. He wanted you to focus on his words, be entirely fixated on him. 

In the animal kingdom, there are predators that will feed on other predators. Phantom would always be the top of his food chain, and right now he was watching another predator about to spring on its prey. 

The teacher apologized again, “I’ve just finished grading your essay. Your rotation plan for the worker’s vacation issue was well done. The marks from that and what you’re able to get on your exam will be plenty to give you a passing grade. I meant to call and let you know it wasn’t necessary to come here, but I’d guessed you were already in transit. Again, I’m very sorry. Let... me make it up... to you, I can give you a lift ….home.”

Phantom frowned in confusion. The man’s words were slowing, like he was a broken record that wasn’t playing right. He noted you were blinking rapidly, and squinting as you tried to focus. 

The room and the teacher were getting blurry. 

As understanding kicked in Phantom tsked, “He drugged the cider.”

“Welcome to the memory of little detail but with a very decisive answer of what happened.” the hatred you’d conveyed to your mother as a teenager was there, mixed with disgust and loathing that was meant only for people that rightfully deserved it. 

You tried to speak, “No...No, that’s okay. Buses...still running fine. SsSorry, not feeling good. Exscuse me.” your speech was slurred and you staggered as you tried to stand up. The mug of cider fell from your weak grip, clattering and spilling its contents on the floor. 

“Whoa, easy there. You’re clearly in no shape to go home. Sit back down and I’ll clean that up. Sit.” his words were audible, even as the room spun and faded to black. 

When it came back into focus, you were being laid down in the back of a minivan. 

What followed after came in brief clips of when you’d regained clarity. 

Phantom’s expression remained neutral as he witnessed this atrocity of human nature. The blood on your thighs was the carry over from this. 

You couldn’t stand to watch, or listen. You closed your eyes and covered your ears. 

More than once a week you’d see these images in your sleep. What was worse was the other parts of your senses remembering. The taste in your mouth, the burning pain, the dried blood and discharge on your thighs. 

When you wake up, you’d run for the bathroom to throw up then take a shower. With the frequency this happened, you took over the water bill payments for the apartment. Your roommate, who had also been your roommate in college, had assured you it wasn’t necessary and they understood, but you insisted. Just as your therapist insisted you make more regular appointments to see them. 

The memory became solid again as the drug wore off. You were laying on your couch in your apartment. Your winter jacket was draped over you like a blanket, your keys and a piece of paper were clenched in your hand. 

Phantom could tell from the way you began to shake, and hiss as you moved off the couch, that you were in excruciating pain. You tried to take a step and had to immediately grab the back of the couch for support. Heaving in deep breathes as tears began to build, you opened the paper with shaking hands. 

Over your shoulder he read ‘Keep your mouth shut, and you’ll pass all your classes that you might have with me.’

Your roommate came home from their overnight shift just in time to hear you scream in rage and misery. 

The memory faded with them bringing you in for a hug.

Once more in the white room, Phantom leaned onto his cane and tucked his free hand into his pocket. 

With his collection requiring him to cater to an individual’s needs, he’d learned to pick up on cues from people. 

These past two years he’d made little mental notes about you, from watching your interactions with others and when you’d be working at your desk on your own. 

He’d classified you as an introvert. You didn’t interact with others if you didn’t have to. You begged off from attending any gatherings or shows at his local facilities, and only went when you were given no other choice. 

He thought maybe you’d built a good work relationship with Andy and Shawn, but your smiles had never seemed entirely genuine, and your body language spoke of wanting constant distance.

The only time you seemed at ease and content, was when you were left alone to manage the phone, emails, and bills. 

Now he corrected this assessment.

He snapped his fingers, and the white room went dark.

#Unpaid Punishment #Part 6 #fanfiction #trigger warnings #reader insert #gender neutral #Natewantstobattle #Phantom Battle

[virtuoussnapdragon-blog]

What else was She to do?

Chapter 1:

The Summer Job

Thomas:

We met at our job. It was the summer of 56 and I had just been certified as a lifeguard. So naturally I sought a job at the neighborhood YMCA. She had already worked there before. She had experience with the people there. I was new and therefore nervous. Eager as I was to make friends I also had a hope in the back of my mind that I might meet someone. My childhood sweetheart Janice Spence had just dumped me. As soon as I walked into the first staff meeting I knew.. that I was in love with the girl sitting next to her. Yeah, I won’t lie about it. I didn’t initially notice her, but once I did there was nothing I wouldn’t do to get to know her. The girl next to her was Melissa O’Riley. Melissa had lovely red hair was cut in a sort of bob at the neck. Her eyes were bright blue and she had a persuasive laugh- the kind you want to listen to again and again. So I made her laugh as often as I could for the first two weeks. She was obliging and I was in heaven until I realized she wasn’t funny at all herself and had little interest in anything but gossip. Within 20 minutes of speaking to her I learned more about every staff member than I could ever want to. So eventually my sights drifted and settled upon the true heroine of this story: Eva Sandoval. Eva was quick witted. And that’s all I knew about her for a long time. She wasn’t shy and she wasn’t obnoxious. When she was talking to you it seemed as if she might love you for all the courteous attention she bestowed with those entrancing brown eyes. But as soon as she walked away you felt unsure of her admiration, and doubted she had ever had any interest in you at all. She was spectacularly mysterious and I was desperate to gain a better understanding of her. Thank goodness we had the same shift or I might have never gotten to know her and my life would be drastically different than what it is now 5 months after this story begins. 

Eva: 

It was my 4th year working for the YMCA of Pendleton Springs, AZ. I had renewed my lifeguard certification again for this year because Ma kept nagging me about it. “Miha you must have a job if you wish to be anything. Learn to work now so you never struggle as I did. When your sainted Pa was taken from us I thought we would starve, but you know what I did? I walked into town and asked every shop on the street if they would hire me- I mean it! Every single store I asked! And when I reached the end of the street I had the means to a living. Ah, but it was brutal- learning to work hard takes time Miha. And I don’t want you wasting it! Go down to the class after school today and get re-certified!” She had delivered this monologue in variation after variation since I was 11. The year after my father was killed. Me and my little sister Mari listen attentively every single time but I must admit after 6 years its getting a bit old. But no matter! I went down to the pool directly after school that day and Mari tagged along. When we got there the instructor hadn’t arrived. There were a few familiar faces milling about in the water. Melissa, David, and Patsy I had worked with the past two summers. They smiled and called for me to change quickly so we could adjust to the chill of the water together. I dragged Mari from the edge of the pool, over to the changing rooms, where she had been animatedly trying to engage Melissa in conversation about how she was thinking about bobbing her hair too. For a few months now Mari has been seeking out other girls my age for advice and validation. She’s 13 years old and is desperate to be a fully-fledged teen. I asked her once why she didn’t come to me for stuff like that and she answered after thinking a minute, “You’re just different than the other girls Evie, I’ve seen you dance to the crooning of Cosby. I can’t ask you for advice after seeing that!” I actually thought it was kind of funny. But I still didn’t see why she had to talk to Melissa about it. Melissa is alright I suppose, I just don’t want Mari to become half as dull as she is. Soon we were changed and I was reviewing strokes with the rest of the gang. Sooner than I’d have liked our instructor arrived. I was expecting Mrs. Taner like every year, but was surprised to see a man striding forward in a swimsuit with a whistle slung around his neck. He seemed to be in his 30’s. I couldn’t tell for sure because I was overwhelmed by how absolutely mature he looked. So calm, so above it all, and with a dark mustache to boot! I was already smitten. “Hi,” said he with a look into the pool, “I’m here to teach the recertfication course. Am I correct in assuming you are my students?” We stared dumbfounded for a moment before Patsy spoke up, “ Where’s Mrs. Taner?” 

Melissa chimed in, “Pats didn’t you hear! Mrs. Taner is pregnant.” 

“Yes and I will be taking charge of the pool over the summer while she is unable to supervise.” The man said, “My name is Mr. Micklesby and I look forward to a great summer.” He spoke all this with energy and dropped a quick and somehow remonstrating smile. He didn’t seem to be nearly a peppy as Mrs. Taner. But I didn’t mind at all. 

Any ideas I had about finding a new job for the summer were wiped from my mind by that afternoon. Mr. Micklesby was demanding and stern and utterly charming. I never performed stronger or faster strokes than during that course. Now please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not the type to go after someone older than me. I’m not the type to go after anybody. But I did have a terrible crush and was determined to prove my proficiency and worthiness as a member of the staff. And thus my summer began. Staff meetings came and went and I adored Mr. Micklesby from atop my tall wooden chair- while of course scanning the pool responsibly. 

“Why do you think Mr. Micklesby is in charge now?” David pondered aloud after one of our shifts ended. Pendleton Springs has one of the largest pools in the state so many of us had to be on duty at a time and thus got to take breaks together while the other staff took a turn. 

“I don’t know, but he seems very qualified.” I answered trying to keep the partiality out of my voice.

Melissa came up behind us, “My mother says he was in charge of the pool in a neighboring town and wanted to be at Pendleton for the pay raise. Some say he actually saved a child from drowning once!” She finished this with an impressive look.

“As uptight as he is I can’t imagine him swimming for fun. Wonder how he got into this line of work?”, this came from Thomas the new guy. Melissa laughed appreciatively then slipped into the locker room. He gave her a satisfied smile and followed suit.

We all have lockers for our clothes and lunches while we work. That’s why my locker is my favorite sight at the end of a long shift. It means lunch and giving your eyes a rest from the monotonous task of watching people bob up and down below the surface.

Chapter 2: 

 My Father, Mr. Micklesby and that new kid Thomas.

Thomas:

So I started that summer thinking I’d actually be swimming. Wrong. It was mostly watching other people swim and telling kids to stop holding each other under the water for too long. In a word, it was boring. Luckily, I had an interesting cast of characters to entertain me. To start there was Patsy. Patsy was colorful and cheerful until she saw kids running. To watch the split second transformation from beaming benignity to the ferocious dragon of a girl who screamed across the water for the kids to halt was fascinating. She sat nearest to me so I had a front row seat. She also had a deep infatuation with bugs. Anytime I was with her she had a new fact about a different species. Not being especially keen on insects I would try to steer the conversation away from the topic. She however could relate every subject to a different bug and its behavior. The second week I worked there she was obsessed with the banana spider and she didn’t run out of “interesting” facts till Thursday. Melissa and Eva I’ve already taken time to describe so I’ll skip them. There was David. He, I got to know on breaks mostly. He was vegan and well informed. He knew everything there was to know about American history and modern politics which would have been dandy if he didn’t assume I was as knowledgable as he. I spent a good deal of time faking my way through conversations about people I had never heard of. However I stayed close to him because he at least, was talking about people instead of creepy-crawlies. He was a perfectly friendly chap till you took out your lunch. Then he would eye my roast beef sandwich with dismay and mutter to himself about the cruelty animals were subject to. And then finally my boss: Mr. Micklesby. The ridiculousness of his name extended to his looks and demeanor. He was short and mean. His dark hair was styled in a positively ancient do involving copious amounts of gel so that it looked as glazed as a donut. His feet were especially large for a man of his height but who knows maybe he’ll grow into it. But for now it rendered his walk rather absurd. I would never say all this about him if it weren’t for the fact that he obviously thought himself superior and was incredibly short tempered. Now I know that as a newbie I was bound to make mistakes, but his bursts of short cutting commentary never helped. He was even curt with the more experienced staff. So I did my best to avoid him. That is until I noticed Eva was always near him during breaks. I thought she must have been a super hard worker because she was always asking if there was anything else she cold do to help out before she went to have lunch. So despite my wariness I began to ask if I could help out as well. Mr Micklesby almost never had anything for us to do, but I would come up to him at the end of every shift because I knew Eva would be there. After days of asking for more work and being turned away we were given something to do.

“Good gracious I never saw such eager kids,” Mr. Micklesby said with a derisive snort, it didn’t appear to be a compliment, “ugh, fine why don’t you- I don’t know.. Scrub down the old paddles boards huh? I guess I’ll just assume you two will figure it out?”

“Sir, I’ve been doing this for four years. I know what to do.” Eva said with composure.

“Yeah and I’ve been breathing since birth but that doesn’t mean I know how it works,” He said with a condescending chuckle.

I had barely muttered, “What does that even me-,” when he started again.

“Look there are some wipes in the shed, just use those- I don’t want you two rubes handling anything stronger than that ok? No cleaning chemicals allowed.” 

I was surprised by how well Eva took all this. I had seen her tell off quite a few people since week one and I knew she wasn’t opposed to really letting someone have it. But she nodded her understanding and set off towards the shed. Catching up with her a few feet later I tried to make a joke, “if only his temper was as long as his feet right?” I said looking at her hopefully. She gave a quick but uninterested smile and didn’t slow her pace. I tried again, “I think it’s really cool how much you want to help. Is that just how you are or is it the job you care about?” 

She actually slowed a little when I said this and answered in the direct and confidential tone I’d soon come to know well, “ Thanks, but I only really do this job for my Ma. She makes such a big deal out of it every year. How important it is that I’m a worker and how much it means to her to see me as independent.” 

“That’s sweet. Does the job make you feel independent?”

Her eyes were on mine now as we reached the shed and started unloading the paddle boards and searching for the wipes, “It should!” She said with a merry laugh, “I’m paying rent. My ma never mentions that to me. She always says its for my betterment that I work.” Her jovial manner had slackened as she concluded.

“Wow, you.. pay the rent? That’s a big responsibility..Do your parents not work?” As soon as the words left my mouth I realized what a personal and harsh question I’d asked. How open she had been with me had lured me into a false sense of security. I didn’t know her near well enough to ask her this stuff. To my immense relief her attitude towards me didn’t change. She continued.

“My mom does. And my abuela takes in small sewing jobs. And my father is.. dead. So he doesn’t work.” She finished with a significant look. 

“I’m so sorry I-“

She cut me off placing a hand on my shoulder in an older sisterly way, “Of course you couldn’t know, you needn’t be sorry because you didn’t know him or me till now, and I didn’t mind you asking.” Her words were so unapologetic and yet she said them in a way that made me feel I hadn’t done anything to upset her opinion of me. I decided to change the subject. 

“Hey, you never really answered my question though.” I said with a tsk.

A smile returned to her eyes. “What was the question again?”

“The point of it was to determine why you’re always asking Mr. Micklesby for more work.”

She actually colored a little at this and with a sigh said, “Since you know me a bit better I don’t mind telling you I’ve got a bit of a crush,” she laughed a little and continued, “I know its silly, but it’s still my summer and I’m going to do what I like with as much of it as I can. Now, you seem like a decent guy- won’t tell anyone will you?”

As horrified as I was this new information I avowed in a joking manner to never tell a soul. I couldn’t understand it for the life of me why she could feel anything friendly towards such an absurd fellow. This hardly mattered though as we wiped down boards and chatted our break away. It was during that hour I knew she was someone I wanted to spend time with. Thankfully I think she felt the same. 

Eva:

About the fourth week of the summer I got to know New Kid Thomas. That’s what everyone called him anyhow. I first took especial notice of him when he started asking Mr. Micklesby for extra jobs at the end of our shift. Which is what I had been doing. I was greatly annoyed at first. I was just using those moments as an excuse to talk to Mr. Micklesby and attempt to guide him into a conversation with me or at least get him to compliment my work ethic! Of course New Kid Thomas made it impossible to do this any longer. With both of us badgering him he dismissed us double quick. I made a point not to encourage Thomas even when he would try to joke as we walked to the locker room. But one day when we were finally given a task I actually took time to talk with him. He has a way of making you at ease. Maybe it’s how he alternates so quickly from goofus to focused. When I talk I know he’s paying attention to what I say and making mental notes. I like feeling heard like that. With four very opinionated people in one household its hard to have the last word on anything. So I ended up sharing a lot with him. Nothing specific just the basics of who I am. He could have asked anyone at school and gossips would have mentioned most of it. But the more we talked the more I wanted to share. I even told him about my crush on Mr. Micklesby and we had a laugh about that. When we were done wiping down paddle boards I checked my watch and saw we only had 20 minutes left before break ended. 

“Lets head back and get lunch!”I suggested standing up and stretching. Sitting all day takes such a toll. 

“Yeah ok! I know it’s silly but do you wanna race back? I’m so sick of not moving.” 

“On your mark get set go!” I cried tearing away from the shed and across the lawn towards the locker rooms. He set out after me and was gaining when a piercing whistle rang out.

“Are you KIDDING me?!” Shrieked Patsy. Her eyes were wide with anger and if possible her dark curly hair seemed larger and more intimidating than it ever had before, “I spend ALL DAY telling these dratted kids not to run near the pool and look up to see my FELLOW LIFEGAURDS.. FLAGRANTLY disobeying such a SIMPLE rule?!” 

“Pats I am so so sorry,” I stammered, out of breath. Taking a few steps back I continued, “We weren’t thinking and-

“Is it gonna happen again?!” She spat.

“No way ma’am. I mean-I’m so sorry Patsy-it was my idea and-,” Thomas made to keep talking but Patsy cut him off.

“Whatever- as long as it doesn’t happen again… you both are forgiven.” She said, slowly becoming the dear and charming friend I knew and loved once more. 

Seeing Patsy in such a terrifying state always gave me chills but having it directed at me was another thing entirely! I thought I might never run again. Then a though occurred to me.

“Patsy dear what are you doing so far from the locker room? Isn’t it your break too?”

“Yeah but I was worried Micklesby was making you guys work through your break entirely. I wanted to come over and remind you two to eat something before the next shift starts.” She said in such a concerned and gentle tone you would have never known she’d just been screaming her head off.

I turned to Thomas with a laugh, “No I’ve just been getting to know the new kid. We were just heading back to grab our lunches.”

“Yes I saw.” Said Patsy with a stern glance.

“Well lets all head back now,”Thomas interjected with a worried look at Pats. “How much time do we have now?”

I checked my watch, “15 minutes and we can make it back in time if we.. walk quickly.”

So we walked at a checked but rapid pace and got our lunches out of our lockers. I watched Patsy join Melissa and David outside then followed with Thomas close on my heels. 

“What you have for lunch today?” Said Thomas seating himself between Melissa and myself.

“Eva always has the best food!”Melissa said eyeing my brown bag.

“Its true!” David interjected, “One time she let me have a bite of a tamale and I thought I’d gone to heaven!”

I smiled with more than a little pride. My abuela and ma are the best cooks in the world. Not that we eat out often or anything, but I’m pretty sure they cook better than anyone in Pendleton. “Today I have the classic chicken quesadilla.” 

“Can I try a bit?” Thomas ventured timidly. 

I thought about it for a full minute before responding, “Sure- I’ll even give you half (Melissa uttered a gasp and Patsy hmphed) If!..You give me half of your weird sandwich thing.”

Like I said we don’t eat out. Ever. As much as I love and enjoy the things my family makes me sometimes I’m in the mood for something new and can’t get it. Going to a restaurant would cost too much so I never even mention it to Ma. 

Thomas laughed, “From what I hear, you’re being more than fair. Its a roast beef sandwich. Try it!”

We switched and on everyone’s countdown took our first bites. Thomas’ eyes lit up and even I had to admit his roast beef was excellently juicy. This started a tradition that would have lasted the entire summer if things hadn’t changed so drastically for me a week later. 

It started as such a pleasant afternoon. Thomas and I were playing cards by the side of the pool during our break together. He had become very quickly a confidante. I had a great amount of faith in his judgment and soon was spilling open with the little things I hadn’t even admitted to myself I was upset about. He was soon familiar with my family stories, my worries over money and Mari. He opened up to me as well. He explained how afraid his parents had been of migrating to America from Vietnam 12 years ago when he was five. They had come because his father had been offered an excellent job which he still had today, but his mother always worried about what would become of them if he were to lose it- arguing there was no other future for them if anything should go wrong. He shared his fretting and frustration over having to go with his parents everywhere for even the simplest of things so he could translate. Our friendship was so special to me after so little time. It made work so much easier knowing we would split or lunches and talk after every agonizing shift. 

It was on a fabulous afternoon such as this when things went wrong. Out nowhere storm clouds were amassing themselves over our pool and at the first roll of thunder everyone was ordered out and told to go home until further notice. It was only 2 and our break time was just about to end. Mr. Micklesby, who I had started to care for less and less, told the staff to go home. He warned us to stick to our landlines in case he called to say the pool needed to be reopened. 

#summer #jobs #new friends

[jonaswhite]

FALL OF ANGEL

FALL OF ANGEL by Henry J. White

    “All glory belongs to Yahweh. It was Him who created all and gave a life. He is in the space and He give a birth of another space. Magnificent become reality and we was witnesses how He and Michael created masterpiece, wich was over everything. We saw an Earth from foundation til she was finished, when on Earth begin life.                                                                                                                  And a man was created and we all sang a song celebrating for our Creator Yahweh. And I was all a part of it and can feel it for my own soul.                          And the Earth was beautiful and man was a masterpiece that celebrated the Majesty of Yahweh.                                                                                            And Yahweh approached to the man and speak to him, to one, who was called Adam. I Saw God as a father, who bends to own son, demonstrate him a love and son was fulfilled by love and he discover joy and happiness. And Adam did all that Yahweh had commanded him and had the pleasure of living on Earth.    And I saw Adam getting a woman and beauty got a new meaning and I was enchanted by man and his way. The wild animals grazed and the man was watching them, just as Yahweh was watching over man, "said the angel and then the thought came to him.     "When Yahweh watches over man and man above the beast, should not someone have an angel? For we serve God, just as a man serves, yet he is appointed over the animals. Is not that strange?" said an angel but he kept it to himself because he was afraid of what others would say and did not want to disrupt the unity.                                                                                                  He felt the fear of the thought, and he pulled away, but he kept his face, but the thought lay in him and infested his mind. He feared it, but could not get rid of it.                                                                                                                                 As time passed, she began to be obsessed and totally poisoned his soul, his heart fell away and was lost in the void.                                                                      "Certainly. The angel should have whom to rule, like God and man, and should have his servants to rule them, as Yahweh has ruled over the ages.          Yes, it must be so. God created man to serve him, and that he created something that is the opposite of justice and denied the right to us who are with him from the beginning of time. Does Yahweh have more love for man than his heavenly children? He gave them life and purpose and gave them the power to walk the Earth, which he created to see good and felt the love of his Creator.      What then we mean nothing to him? Do not we stand at His side and sing songs of praise?                                                                                                           And for what?                                                                                                      To show attention to something less than an angel? God's child! And gave him the dominion over the Earth to rule over the animals while we will look at it all?" said the angel, and was kindled the anger but he did not know.                                  "What do I get from the fact that one lives? What do I get from the fact that the Earth is rotating and the planets float on their tracks? Why is not God plesured in me but from a person who is less? Do not I deserve his love? Would man suffer if God showed me the attention?                                                                          Yahweh and Michael are enjoying each other and can not get enough of the Earth and the human being, while we are standing and singing songs to His celebration.                                                                                                         Are the others blind? Can not they see how God laughs at them? They sing while Yahweh is watching a man, that thin man limited by his power.                  I'm more beautiful than he and I've seen more! I was there before him and I deserve the same love, if not bigger. What is a man compared to me? Who is a man? "                                                                                                                      The angel moved away and flashed with rage, so his perfection left him.              He hated God because he wanted to be like Him, and all his sovereignty and God's arrangement seemed disgusting to him.                                                        He moved to be among the stars and could be alone, and a new idea was born to him at that time. He stepped to the woman, because she was still young and seduced her and turned against God. At that time man as such ceased to exist, and only a shadow remained.                                                                                             And death came to power, and took the man and turned him into dust, who returned to the soil. Despair, suffering, hopelessness, hatred and evil, all caught up with man and not let him.                                                                                  Man exchanged paradise and felt the cruelty of being without God. However, he thought he was free. And man began to kill from jealousy and evil filled his heart and became the enemy of everyone. And death became the greatest companion of the human soul, so he did not find peace. The angel rejoiced, for he destroyed what Yahweh loved, and despised with his own pride when he came near the throne of God to laugh at God.                                                                                                                                                   And so it happened that Yahweh had felt regret for the first time and grief filled his being and could not rejoice. His masterpiece was destroyed and became the shame of the whole universe. And all the sons of God wept, and were afraid, and found no choirs to celebrate God.                                                              And around the throne of God there was silence, and only Michael could feel what God feels, so he cried with Him. And Yahweh focused his attention on the angel who was responsible for what had happened and spoke to him and called him Satan and the Devil because he became God's opponent and liar when he seduced a man.                                                                                                                                                               And Yahweh again proved to be Supreme when he uttered the prophecy that the earth would be cleansed, and that man would once again gain friendship with God, and satan would be destroyed.                                                                God is love and therefore could not leave the world, as satan turned him, because He could not bear the suffering of man.                                                    Satan knew that God was Almighty and therefore realized that what Jahve said would happen. He knew he would be destroyed, but he still felt the victory, because before that happens he will be the ruler of the world. And satan turned some angels to join him and turned away from God. And Archangel Michael was commissioned by Yahweh to overthrow satan and his demons on the earth, so heaven was cleansed.                                                                                          So the world fell into his hands and began to worship him. And he convinced man that satan does not exist and the Word of God was ripped apart when one put the idea of evolution. A man turned what God said and forgot about him, and cast his brother into despair.                                                                                                                        "I will destroy all that You have created and turn it against You! I hate You and You do not deserve to be worshiped! Man will thirst for freedom, and I will give it to him and you, God, you're nobody! And I will erase every trace of You from the Earth's surface and man will know, that God is not! And all unite and say ,God is dead!´" satan said, and became The ultimate ruler of the human sphere.

                                                                                                     Henry J. White

#angel #lucifer #satan #devi #god #story #goth #gothic #dark #darkness #occult #demonic #demon #demons #666 #beast #world #anger #pride #fall #eden #paradise #lost #snake #adam #eva #archangel #michael #property #satanic