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critical-goat · 3 years

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Demon Brothers and What Sets Them Apart From Other Demons (headcanons)

AKA me over analyzing random headcanons about their powers; it’s 6AM and I’ve been up for 24 hours, let’s go (this is also incomplete because I don’t have one for every brother, no it’s not favoritism)

also, uhhh. fuckin spoilers for pretty much everything. I’ll be mentioning stuff from very early in the game as well as stuff in much later game. I also ended up ranting about more than their powers.

Lucifer

- His magic; I know that sounds weird, but magic users among demons is apparently rare. Satan explains this mid 2nd season during the study session (from my memory at least) and that has just. Stuck itself to my brain ever since. While all demons are magical in nature, not all of them naturally control or have magic

- His magic is likely a combination of older Celestial magics as well as Infernal, something he accomplishes given his status as a fallen angel. It gives his magical signature a very unique feel to it

- Lucifer seems to know everything that happens in the House of Lamentation, even if there’s no possible way for him to know. My theory? He has meticulously set up magic to help him keep an eye on things while he is around and away from Lamentation. (Originally read this from one of ThalFox’s theory posts and it lives in my head rent free. Please go check them out)

- Lucifer is particularly skilled with wards, given that he was able to curse a staircase from allowing either demons or angels from being able to access and has some degree of skill in illusion magic, as it had surprised Belphegor that MC had been able to see him without magical help

Mammon

- So most of the fandom seems to know that Mammon has a unique connection to his familiars that the other brothers either don’t have or don’t show off; at the very least he is able to communicate with them, however it is unlikely also possible this ability goes as far as to be able to hear or see things from the perspective of his familiars which is arguably a lot cooler

- An add on to this connection: I actually do not believe that this is common knowledge to anyone outside of Mammon and Lucifer, as the chat it is revealed in Mammon had used this power to spy on the prince of hell, something I highly doubt he would have been able to pull off if such an ability was known

- I like the idea that Mammon is really good at mimicry, both impersonating people and replicating any random noise he’s heard

- Probably the quickest and most agile demon in all of the Devildom, and certainly is among the brothers

- Gets his rank as the 2nd strongest likely from the amount of self control and restraint he has compared to literally the rest of his brothers. If he shows any amount of power, it’s on purpose and you should be concerned.

Asmodeus

- The ability to charm people is not unique to Asmo in the way that only he can do it, as apparently this seems to be a trait most demons possess, but rather, how easily and how completely he is able to charm others

- Literally as soon as he is introduced, MC is warned not to look him in the eyes because he can and will bend your mind as he sees fit. And MC’s immunity is noted very quickly, hinting that the effect on lesser beings (or at least non magical ones) is immediate

- To a lesser extent, he is able to influence the mood of those around him with his presence alone; probably has a calming effect and might explain why he sees to get in trouble with Lucifer so little (also the fact he doesn’t generally do anything to piss the eldest off)

- His domain extends over more than just physical, carnal lust. It’s a side of Asmo less known and rarely seen, but there is a deeply hidden part of Asmo that has an insatiable blood lust. Whether it’s to keep up his reputation or because it gets messy and makes him less presentable, the only people who’ve seen this side of him likely died shortly after (I have very flimsy proof of this one, but after the reveal of the Belphie situation, he says he wants to carve open MC’s heart and see what makes them tick. He seemed seriously so that’s a no from me, never want to see directly ever again)

Belphegor

- Belphie just emanates a very calm, and soothing aura.... whenever he puts the effort into projecting it, which isn’t often. He just cannot be bothered most of the time. This is probably why MC was so stupidly trusting of him.

- It also makes him impossibly more tired when he does use it

- Has easy control of dreams, but only over others dreams. The closest he can come to controlling his own dreams would be lucid dreaming, which is disturbingly easy for him to accomplish

- A dream walker, able to project himself into the dreams of others if he so desires or simply watch as an outsider; this is how he was able to first grab MC’s attention and bring their attention to the attic

- As the weakest of the 7, it is likely that his abilities are more easily shrugged off by his brothers if not outright ignored

- If the subject is weak enough of will, Belphie could direct his victim in a sort of sleep walking trance so long as he could keep them asleep enough

- Rather than charming the viewer, anyone who stares into his eyes will instead be lulled to sleep or become very, very sleepy

#Obey Me!#SWD Obey Me!#Obey Me! Lucifer #Obey Me! Mammon #Obey Me! Asmodeus #Obey Me! Belphegor #Obey Me! Asmo #obey me! belphie #i spent an hour writing this #no regrets #someone might need to take away my laptop now that i have a taste for posting #obey me! headcanons #Obey Me! Imagines #the other three aren't here because my brain couldn't think of anything intresting #i swear i still love them

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cosmicpines · 3 years

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OTGW Dream-Unknown Comic Lore

Hey! Thought I’d make a post about the “ongoing” (now finished) post-series OTGW comic and the implications it has to the lore of the show, since I’m not sure everyone has read them.

Big Note: these comics are only dubiously canon! None were written by Pat McHale.

Other Big Note: I think assigning hard “mechanics” to how the Unknown works defeats the purpose. It is mean to be loose, fairytale like, shepherded by emotion. Putting a stamp on “this is how they get in and out” and “this is exactly what happened” doesn’t make sense -- part of the point is we, Greg, and Wirt don’t know exactly what the Unknown is.

That being said, i still think it’s fun to look at the facts presented in the comics and see if we can figure out a bit of what’s going on. This post is long because this is who I am as a person, apparently.

TLDR: Wirt and Greg can be brought to the Unknown during their dreams, potentially for multiple days in one night. They are there until they both realize they are dreaming and they solve the problem they were brought there for.

Right off the bat, in issue 1, we find out that Greg can go to the Unknown in his dreams -- in this case, because Jason told him that there was a “new case” for them to solve.

He briefly wakes up and goes back to sleep (probably because they wanted to show Wirt in issue 1.)

Greg doesn’t seem surprised to find himself in the Unknown; quite the opposite: Jason is telling him about a “new” case, implying that this has happened before, possibly multiple times. We have no idea how long after the series this takes place, only that it’s either fall or winter, judging from their pajamas.

Greg doesn’t offer us any other insight to what’s going on, but, eventually, Wirt shows up in issue 4. He asks Greg what he’s, and later they, are doing here, implying he did not choose to come and they don’t always come here at the same time.

Wirt is particularly interesting that he seems to think they may not be able to leave again, as he brings up on 2 occasions.

However, this may just be because he doesn’t know he’s dreaming.

(Yes, that’s Sara. More on her later.)

A detail that I think is important from the show here -- then, Wirt also couldn’t remember entering the Unknown, since he seemed to think he and Greg were lost and not, you know, drowning in a river. I think it’s very possible that when you enter the Unknown, you forget how you got there. Remembering that is key to being able to escape.

Sara tells Wirt he’s dreaming, and from that point on, he no longer waxes about being trapped: he instead tells Greg he wants to go home, as seen in issue 12.

When Greg and Wirt split up to solve the last mysteries:

This implies that they don’t have to go home together and, at this point, they are more or less capable of going home whenever.

Issue 16 brings them both home, Greg after revealing Hero Frog’s intentions and getting Jason elected mayor:

And Wirt after he and Sara defeat the Shapeshifter.

(poor wirt lmao)

I think these puzzle pieces can lead to a conclusion: They can only go home from the Dream Unknown once they are both aware that they are dreaming and they solve whatever problem they were brought here for. Once they do, they can go back whenever they want.

After waking up, Greg immediately checks on his brother.

Solidifying that they remember what happened, and, implying at least, that they don’t always get home at the same time. I can see scenarios where one sits in the other’s room, waiting for them to wake up...

We ultimately don’t know how often this happens, what triggers it, and how aware they are of the whole thing. Judging from their reactions to being there and going home, I feel like this sort of thing happens often enough, but not so often that it’s exhausting and/or terrifying... once a month, maybe?

If that rate increases, though... well, that’s just some fun fanfiction fuel.

Some other observations:

1. Greg and Wirt may not experience things exactly the same in the Dream Unknown.

When Wirt first shows up, he makes this comment:

“A bunch of nightmare stuff” seems a little... extreme, for what Wirt was doing, as said ghost was a beaver in a sheet.

Issue 6 offers a potential explanation. The framing device for this issue is a tavern keeper asks them why they look so tired, and Greg and Wirt both tell the story of having to sit in a location all night to meet someone, but their stories vary wildly. For Greg, they were on a stage. For Wirt, they were in a graveyard.

Both stories have seriously different levels of Wirt’s enthusiasm,

and how creepy it is.

I won’t pretend that this is canon that they’re experiencing it differently; it’s definitely possible that one or both of them are unreliable narrators. Certain details, like Wirt singing, point more to that, but others, like Wirt getting eaten by a demon horse, is... a lot more extreme, haha.

This is also partly refuted later in the comic, as Greg and Wirt get separated but visit the same places, which are largely the same.

But still, it’s a fun idea.

2. Sara is here

Yeah, so, this can either be adorable or terrifying.

All Sara really says about her being here is that she thinks this is a lucid dream where Wirt is a person in it, which Wirt never presses her but come on Wirt please press her cause what the fuuuuuuckkkkk????? Sara ultimately doesn’t seem to know what the Unknown really is, since she only refers to it as a lucid dream.

Three explanations I can think of:

1. Her line “I’m having a lucid dream and you’re a part of it” could be meant to imply that the opposite: Wirt is the one having the dream and has dreamed up a Sara to adventure with him.This Sara is just something Wirt has created to join him in the Unknown, and the real Sara isn’t involved or aware of this at all. This isn’t the first time the Unknown has created a Sara, if you consider Distillatoria canon (which... ehhhhh...... I have Opinions about that lol)

2. Sara has been to the Unknown before. If that is the case, it either happened recently, since Wirt is surprised to see her there, or Sara has been doing this for a while and they just haven’t run into each other. Her saying it’s just a dream isn’t incorrect, and if she doesn’t think Wirt is really Wirt (that the Unknown created him), there’s no reason for her to be like “hey, we’re in a dream recreation of purgatory that apparently has a grasp on my soul for all eternity.”

3. This is the first time Sara has been to the Unknown, and Wirt unintentionally brought her along. This one has the least evidence towards it, but I think it’s interesting. Greg is able to bring his stuffed raccoon with him to the Unknown, so why can’t Wirt bring the consciousness of his crush and/or girlfriend?

Another thing to think about when considering this: Wirt and Greg are in the Unknown in their Halloween costumes. I like the idea that whatever you wore to the Unknown when you go is what you always wear when you’re there. Sara is all dressed for an adventure, with a cute green cape, a huge backpack, and a bee mask (specifically to trick the shapeshifter).

So I’m not sure what she might have been doing to be wearing this and then end up in the Unknown... Either she’s into LARP, she got into a hiking accident while wearing a sick cape, she changed clothes after arriving in the Dream Unknown, or her outfit is part of Wirt’s dream.

No idea which explanation is “correct;” I think they’re all interesting to play with!

3. Jason has relatives in the Unknown

Apparently the Hero Frog is Jason’s dad???

Which is... fascinating, considering they found Jason before going into the Unknown.

I think I read ages ago a theory that Jason is originally from the Unknown and got out somehow, as he is a lot more intelligent than a real frog should be. Who knows, though.

It’s probably also of note that Jason is the one who instigates them entering the Unknown, “telling” Greg there’s a mystery to solve.

4. Multiple days pass by in the dream

This is “fun...”

Day 1: Issue 1 (Greg’s arrival) - Issue 4 (Wirt’s arrival, diverging story)

Day 2: Issue 6 (morning after diverging tale) - Issue 7 (Greg sneaks around bird town, Wirt encounters a ghost)

Day 3: Issue 9 (Greg goes over a mountain. There’s a very fast day-night cycle here, but I think it’s for comedic effect. Wirt arrives in bird town and meets up with Sara.) - Issue 11 (Greg joins some “highwaymen”) /12 (Wirt and Sara help a sick goose)

Day 4: Issue 12 (Greg, Wirt, and Sara meet up in frog town) - Issue 14 (Greg spies on Hero Frog, Wirt and Sara get taken by an orphanage)

Day 5: Issue 15 (Greg/Wirt/Sara make their plan, Greg goes home before nightfall in 16) - Issue 16 (Wirt and Sara defeat the shapeshifter)

This is 5 full days they spend in the dream. Some of them are a lot fewer events than would happen in a day, and it’s very likely time is moving faster in the dream, but... jeez. That’s got to screw with your mind if this happens too often. Like, imagine the worst case scenario where they go to the Unknown every night and spend 5 days there every time! I doubt this is the case, but holy shit.

5. Beatrice, the Woodsman, Lorna, and the Beast are nowhere to be seen

This is more of an observation, but there is not even a passing mention of any of these three. Either they were all checked in on their first dream adventure, or they can’t remember that first adventure while in the dream too clearly...

There’s a ton of fun theories that you can make out of the Dream Unknown. Is the Dream Unknown the same as the Halloween Unknown? Are the boys souls claimed by the Unknown forever? Will it keep calling them back, night after night, until they go back permanently? How does this effect their healing from their trauma? Are these dreams going to increase or decrease in frequency? Do they always last exactly one night? Can Wirt fall asleep in class, spend a week in the Unknown, and wake up before the end of the period? Can Greg go to bed for the night and not wake up all day, but only have been in the Unknown for a few minutes? Does time pass in the Unknown without them there? In the Dream Unknown, will they always be the age that they originally were when they entered the Unknown? Does anyone else in the Unknown do this? (at some point, I want to do a theory post about who is from the Unknown and who is from the “real” world...)

Anyway... this post completely ran away with me. Hope you enjoyed! Send me your theories; I’m itching to hear them!

#over the garden wall #otgw #jeez this ended up really long #there was just a lot to talk about haha #mary blabs

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joeyglowy · 4 years

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Can i request a scenario where Atsumu’s girlfriend feels lonely because he barely had time for her so he dedicates his weekend to her

No worries! Realistically, as much as I’d like Atsumu to dedicate an entire weekend, he’d still give a good portion of it to volleyball cause that’s just how he is. In any case, I still hope you enjoy the scenario I did, that explored the ‘lonely’ part and ‘spending time together’ part in equal portions.

Miya Atsumu x Fem! Reader

WHAT I’M HERE FOR.

Although dating Atsumu was certainly a thrilling endeavour, it also happened to be a rather lonely one.

Miya Atsumu was something akin to the illustrious ‘Forbidden Fruit.’

He was a scorching red that disrupted the serenity and tranquillity of the garden. He was a pulsating, bleeding crimson heart that tantalised you from afar. He was alluring and he knew it. He burned everyone that he touched and yet he’d draw them in all the same. He was searing, he was like scalding water. If you got too close, not only would he evade you but he’d manage to singe you in the process.

Being with him was like a lucid dream.

He was elusive, too elusive.

A relationship with him was not quite the romantic comedy you had asked for. Being second to volleyball is something that was both bitter on the tongue yet mesmerising on the eyes. Atsumu’s passion, however scorching, never failed to ignite something that was reminiscent to childish glee inside of you. He brought it out of everyone. From his opponents, his teammates, the crowd, it didn’t matter, but Atsumu was what they meant when they say:

You can’t look away.

Finishing your club activities, you looked longingly at the gym and sighed as you offered a small smile to your friends who were waiting up ahead. Inarizaki was a prestigious school, one that took great pride in their sporting, particularly well known for their volleyball team. As such, their practice always extended until the skies were coloured with purple sunsets and stars.

[5:32 PM]

hey~ you free to hang out this weekend tsumu? theres a festival nearby which might be fun to go to!

[5:40 PM]

sorry babe

captains makin all the practices longer cause of nationals

- 3 -

dunno if ill be able to

[5:42 PM]

all g! you better do well then, if you get knocked out of the first round of nationals I’ll kill you

[5:45 PM]

come on babe, its me we’re talkin bout here~

;))))

breaks bout to end so ill text ya later

thnx for bein chill babe~

You couldn’t help but sigh as you let your phone fall from your vision to your side before roughly shoving it into the depths of your pockets. Your group of friends eyed you warily.

“[Name]-chan, if he never spends that much time with you, is there really a point being with him?”

It was a question your friends often asked. Never out of malice, but always out of genuine curiosity and concern whenever they see you look at your phone solemnly. Unfortunately, you’ve asked yourself that question a few times too.

It was almost unbearable, like being put on a diet. He was the taste of all chocolates, candies and lollipops that you’d snack on but was always hidden away, as if his enjoyment was a ‘one time’ thing per week. You hated the fact that it felt like your relationship was just like those candies, stowed away on the top shelf, only to come whenever he felt like it. He was tumultuous and exciting but he left you feeling cold for he always went away too soon.

It’s not as if you didn’t get it. He loved volleyball, it was his passion, it was his world and that was completely okay. You knew all that and yet… it always felt as if you clung onto the relationship a bit tighter than he did.

Even so, you had always answered that question with a shaky, but determined ‘yes.’

“I don’t really know. Nationals are coming up though so it’s natural that he’d be extra busy, he’s practicing hard so, I really can’t blame him for that, you know?”

Now, you weren’t so sure.

You smiled through the cracks on your teeth as you all continued on your way.

~*~

“Ouch.”

“ACK–!”

Atsumu choked out a strangled scream as his bottle flew out of his hands before he eventually caught it in a hurried motion saving it from plummeting to the ground, turning to give his most withering glare he could muster to the source of his near death experience before deadpanning to find an identical deadpan boring into him. Osamu, being completely immune to Atsumu’s glares only shrugged nonchalantly as he made a gesture to fill his own bottle by the taps before glancing casually up at his fuming brother.

“That sure doesn’t sound too good ta me ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu had gone to fill his bottle at the drink taps just outside the gym but he had stumbled on the conversation you had been having with your friends by accident. Osamu had apparently followed and thought it was necessary to almost completely blow his cover by nearly shocking him into a seizure. Atsumu’s scowl deepened in spite of the guilt and concern gnawing his mind as he harrumphed angrily.

“It’s none of ya damn business ‘Samu!” he retorted stubbornly, looking away so that his brother couldn’t see the distress on his face.

Osamu snorted. Even if he couldn’t see his brother’s face, he (unfortunately) had sixteen years of experience to document Atsumu’s irrational behaviours and idiosyncrasies tucked away in a rather large folder in his mind. Osamu’s not too happy about that folder occupying as large of a space as it did but he definitely didn’t want to see it get bigger by adding a ‘heartbroken ‘tsumu’ subheading.

“If I were you bro, I’d do something about it. Last thing I want is ta deal with yer crying ass and ya eating my pudding to ease ya through the inevitable break up.”

Atsumu stilled at that word: ‘breakup.’

He didn’t think that you guys were broken, nor did it feel as if you guys were losing your feelings. Atsumu was a man of the highest calibre. He never half-assed anything and he held the same standard for everyone he was acquainted with. It was often the decider if people hated or liked him.

For you, it was a decider that you loved him. He was sure of it.

Atsumu furrowed his brows in determination. He was a man that pushed things to the limits and he most certainly did not settle for mediocrity. Whatever it is, he was going to make sure you’d both get through it.

“Fuck you ‘Samu, ya can keep yer damn pudding, just watch, I’ll—‘SAMU!”

As per usual, Osamu had left Atsumu in the middle of his epiphany. Seriously, who does that bastard think he is!?

~*~

Since you had nothing better to do, you decided to get a start on studying on the Saturday, not that you were too happy about having to spend another weekend alone.

Your solitude, however, was sourly interrupted by rapid banging on your door. Aggravated to have your rare ounce of motivation disrupted, you flung open the door with a bit more force than necessary only to be met with your boyfriend, still sweaty from practice.

“[Name]-chan!? What’re ya doing, hurry up and get ready, we have a festival to catch don’t we?” Atsumu gasped out, perhaps on a small adrenaline high after practice. You were a little taken back by his enthusiasm before you narrowed your eyes.

“I thought you couldn’t make it? You can’t just come here expecting me to hang out with you just because you’re suddenly up for it ‘Tsumu,” you say slowly, wincing to hear your words come out a little more scathing than what you’re used to. It’s not as if you had anything planned for the day but you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed that he’d act as if he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Atsumu’s eyes flashed momentarily with guilt and he chewed the inside of his cheek before he ducked his head, looking up at you with his burning caramel eyes. “I know but, couldya give me a chance to make it up ta ya? Please [Name]-chan~” he whined pathetically, dramatically clapping his hands in front of his face as he screwed his eyes shut, pouting. You sighed, not finding the heart to ever deny him, you swore you would one day build up immunity to his puppy pouts.

“Fine, fine, just let me get dressed properly.”

His eyes suddenly snapped open, lighting up with a friendly suggestion on the tip of his tongue—

“Alone asshole.”

He grimaced to have the door slammed in his face… yeah, he probably deserved that.

~*~

“Oh my god, ‘Tsumu, you have to get me that jumbo fox plushy!”

Atsumu couldn’t hide his grin for a moment to see the way your eyes lit up at all the decorations than hung overhead on wires or ornaments on stalls as you cooed and awed at all the different ones. He realised it had been way too long since he got to see you get so excited like this, to see your eyes shimmer like diamonds and your smile crystallise like stalactites. Even if there were lights illuminating the area, he was certain that you had to be the one powering all of them.

“Eh~? Aren’tcha a little too old for plushies?” he teased gently, murmuring in a soft voice that was reserved just for your ears.

You waved him off dismissively, your eyes drawn to the golden fox that reminded you a little too much of your own cunning boyfriend. “Nonsense, you can never be too old for cute things. Besides, you’re a brat and yet I’m still dating you, aren’t I?”

Atsumu’s frowned, adamantly squawking, “I am not a brat you–” he broke himself off for a moment before his lips curled into a sleazy Cheshire grin. “Oh? So you think I’m cute, do you?”

You deadpanned, unamused. “Well you’re not good for much else other than volleyball or being an asshole, are you?”

Atsumu winced, huffing as he crossed his arms over his chest childishly, resisting the urge to further prove your point by puffing out his cheeks. “Mean! Yer so mean [Name]-chan! I finally take you out and this is the thanks I get!? Why am I even dating ya anyway!?”

The words had tactlessly slipped out in a fit of momentum and for a moment, he stiffened, like he wanted to take it back upon realising that the reason why he had done this is because your very relationship was on the brink. He suddenly stumbled over his words, getting flustered as he tried to find the best way to reword it. You blinked curiously, mulling over what could have spurred such a reaction. Briefly, you wondered if he had heard you when you were with your friends… that he had somehow known of your doubts.

“I mean, course I know why I like ya! Yer–!”

You patiently listened to Atsumu as he listed all the little things you do, all the little trivial stuff that you never even noticed about yourself to you. In less than eloquent words, he admired how assertive you were with him, how you always spoke your mind and lately you hadn’t been doing that. He was clearly growing more and more embarrassed at the sheer honesty of it all and with each stumble he made that fractured his swollen pride, it was like he put a Band-Aid on the doubts in your mind.

You suddenly brought his neck down and he lurched before his forehead was pressed to yours as you kissed the corner of his mouth, immediately putting a halt to his rather humiliating spiel of emotions.

“You’re really not good at this whole, emotional honesty thing, are you? No wonder I had to confess first.” You snickered to yourself and Atsumu cringed in chagrin, ready to rebut as his cheeks flared red before you smiled adoringly at him. “Thank you for that and for today ‘Tsumu. I’m sorry that you somehow had to figure out I was having doubts rather than me just being up front about it. But, I love you ‘Tsumu, I really do.”

You grinned, your nose brushing against his as the two of you stood in the middle of the path. People were probably staring at you but neither of you particularly cared as you beamed at him, watching his ears turn a shade darker.

“This, you, are exactly what I signed up for when I asked you out. I love your passion for volleyball, I find it hilarious that you can be an absolute dick to everyone but you can’t even properly admit to yourself when you’re genuinely moved. You’re a bit of an idiot and all asshole, but that’s exactly what I’m here for. But, please don’t think I’m being unreasonable when I say I want to see you more. I mean, that’s what relationships are for, to get laid and feel the good stuff you know.”

Atsumu had been stunned into silence, the way his scrutinising eyes laid you bare made you flush but you held your ground confidently. “Heh,” he let out, albeit breathless and trying to cover up his own mortification as he narrowed his eyes playfully. “I thought ‘getting laid’ and ‘feeling the good stuff’ were the same thing.” He laughed when you playfully smacked his chest and although the grin he sported was of the devilish variety, the warmth he held in his smouldering golden eyes was more than enough to express how touched he really was.

“Well,” he growled under his breath as his lips hovered above your ear, drawing you in close by slithering his arms around your waist. “I’d be more than happy ta listen ta any request ya have if ya put it like that.”

He suddenly felt the warmth by his neck stolen away as you slipped out of his hold by bobbing down, his teeth clamping on thin air as he whined to see you duck away from his hold with a sneaky grin.

“You still owe me dunderhead. I want that fox.”

“But ya already got a fox right ‘ere!”

“Hmm, I think I’ve forgotten what makes you the number one setter in the high school prefectures, I think I need a reminder~”

“NOW YER ASKIN’ FOR IT–!”

Even if the two of you were a little embarrassed to openly discuss your feelings all the time, which, more often than not, was disguised under bouts of bickering and teasing, if there’s one thing the two of you knew very well:

You both knew exactly what you were here for…

To get laid and feel the good stuff obviously.

(And to be with each other you supposed)

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya twins #miya osamu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu #request #i wrote too much for this asshole #jokes too much is never enough for the miya twins

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otonymous · 5 years

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Three’s Company (Ikesen Nobunaga x Masamune - NSFW)

Description: What’s a girl to do when she can’t decide between the two? Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Please do not read if uncomfortable with: threesomes, double penetration. Word Count: 2475 words (~12 mins of smut) Author’s Notes: I really had to plough through my writer’s block to finish this story, the most hardcore one I’ve written yet (in my opinion). Happy reading and hope you all enjoy the smutty fruits of my labour! AO3: Read here

Tagging lovely readers: @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons, @artemira-sengoku, @dear-mrs-otome, @pseudofaux, @fieryanmitsu, @otomediary, @suzi-q-uinn, @kitty-kat-ty, @saizoswifey, @belxsar, @anyakane, @friedchikyorice, @whalebubblez, @selenecrawford, @akiza-hades-rose, @rubyleeray, @heavenzfiend, @duerme07, @classy-mc, @dani677, @kitsune-mana, @azuchi-princess

All characters & Ikemen Sengoku owned by Cybird

Have I always been this greedy?

The question in your head goes unanswered, slipping away with the soft brush of Masamune’s fingers over the back of your hand. There, in the dimly lit hallway left deserted after the evening meal, the harvest moon reflected in his sapphire eye grows larger and brighter as he leans in close to whisper in your ear,

“Sweet dreams, Kitten.”

His lips, soft and full, skim the line of your jaw as he pulls away, the Lord of Oshu inhaling deeply in a frustrated sigh as chestnut strands fall to obscure that handsome face. And as his unusually heavy footfalls take him further and further away, you remain rooted in place, willing the evening breeze to temper the heat of desire simmering beneath your skin.

Something had changed.

From the very start, the free-spirited One-Eyed Dragon did whatever he pleased, caring not about whose toes he was treading on as he dismissed Hideyoshi’s warnings to leave Lord Nobunaga’s “woman” alone.

And while he didn’t comply with Hideyoshi’s demands, a teasing playfulness always attended his attention — a joke or hearty laughter accompanying every word or prod to reflect feelings that were similarly lighthearted, not to be taken seriously.

Or so you thought until that night Mitsuhide proved how poorly Date Masamune handled his sake.

You were collecting dishes from the meal he had prepared for Mitsunari and Mitsuhide, carefully tiptoeing around his inebriated body splayed out on the tatami when his hand suddenly whipped out to grab your ankle. Your body fell to crumple against his own, dishes scattering in a room that had long since been vacated by the other warlords, allowing the pair of you a privacy that felt strangely illicit.

Masamune’s face was red, but his blue eye had never been clearer as he searched your own, not a hint of humour to be found in his expression.

“Why wasn’t I the one to find you first, Lass?”

He was so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath. But the frenzied beating within his chest told you all you needed to know about the lucidity of his intent and the sincerity in its meaning.

Moments passed before you finally found the strength to tear yourself from him, sliding the shoji doors shut on the yearning etched into his features when you left him in silence.

For you were afraid of the words that would tumble from careless lips if you stayed. And Nobunaga’s bed awaited you still.

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“Do you love him, Fireball?”

The white stone falls from your fingers to hit the board with a jarring clatter, the echo in Nobunaga’s bedchambers amplified by the stillness of night to further exacerbate your frayed nerves as you meet the warlord’s gaze. His eyes are much calmer than you expected. Serene even.

“I…”

You are aware of how it must seem: eyes darting left and right, the stuttering sounds of uncertainty that could neither confirm nor deny. Across the Go board, his large hand soothingly caresses your clenched fist.

“Relax. I am not so narrow-minded a man as to insist that your affections be chained to me alone.”

“Nobunaga, you know how I feel about you. I…we…I swear nothing happened!”

“But do you want something to happen between you and Masamune?”

At the mention of his name, your mind conjures up an image of the One-Eyed Dragon with his head thrown back, Adam’s apple bobbing as he sent uproarious laughter to the heavens, and any words you had caught in your throat.

No longer able to look at the swimming colours of your lover’s eyes, you focus instead on the spread of smooth stones before you, wishing that the game of life was as comparatively simple as a round of Go.

Rustling fabric accompanies footsteps that position Nobunaga behind you, and a quiet moan escapes your lips to feel his large hands running up and down the length of your arms, the kisses he trails along your neck making you pulse with the beginnings of need.

Nobunaga was an amazing lover. Of that there was no doubt. You were also certain of the depths of your unwavering feelings for the Oda warlord. So why was it that you also felt the pang of hunger whenever you laid eyes on Masamune, felt the electric heat that emanated from beneath cotton and silk every time he stood a little too close for propriety?

Am I greedy in wanting both?

As if seeking out the source of your conflict, Nobunaga slips his hands beneath the layers of your sleeping robes, fingers gently kneading supple breasts even as they palpate the rhythm of your heart.

“Would it make you happy, Love, to have us both at once?”

Your eyes open wide at his suggestion, struggling to find your voice as you turn within the circle of his arms to face him.

“Nobunaga, what are you saying?”

“As your lover, your happiness is my foremost concern and responsibility. I am not so insecure in our relationship as to prohibit a third party from partaking in our nocturnal activities, if that is what it’ll take to satisfy you.”

The tip of one elegantly tapered finger tilts your chin up towards his lips.

“After all, love springs from love, indiscrete and flowing forth continuously. I have never doubted your love for me, and your affection for Masamune doesn’t lessen my share.”

His eyes were clear and you knew better than to doubt his sincerity. So when his lips melt upon your own, you feel yourself deflate in his arms, weeks of bottled-up tension escaping with the comforting heat of his kiss.

“Tell me…if we had him here…what would you have him do to you?”

Nobunaga asks between mouthfuls of breast, bending over you to run his tongue over your hardening nipples, making coherent conversation altogether too difficult in your present state. You merely answer in the form of a shuddering sigh.

Sensing your hesitation, he further loosens your robe, hands slowly dragging up your thighs until they halt at the apex. Nobunaga smiles to find that you’re bare, just as he likes it.

“Where would you have him touch you, hmm? Which parts do you want his hands to expose to my gaze?”

Unable to further withstand the way his fingers hovered teasingly near your pussy without touching, you grasp his hand to dip the tips into the velvet folds. Taking the first step emboldens you. Closing your eyes, the Lord of Oshu materializes to give your imagination free rein.

“H-he would touch me here, like you’re doing now. At the same time, he would…pull my hair back and lick down my neck…all the way to my breasts — ah!”

Nobunaga’s excitement grows by the second, his fingers burying farther into your moist heat until all you could focus on was the sound your arousal made in response to his dextrous movements.

His next question comes on ragged breath as you reach behind yourself to find his cock hard and hot.

“And what if I were to tell you that Masamune is here now?”

You stiffen, eyes shooting open as a tongue comes to claim your gaping mouth before you even have the chance to gasp.

Frozen into shock, it takes you a moment to register the chestnut hair soft against your skin and the long line of lashes adorning the closed eye that wasn’t hidden beneath a patch. Any opportunity to react slips through your fingers as Nobunaga pulls you closer into the circle of his arms to renew his attention on your breasts. The movement breaks off the kiss, Masamune playfully nipping at your lower lip as you are momentarily forced apart.

“Surprised to see me, Kitten?”

“Masamune?! When did you come in? I didn’t even hear you!”

Nobunaga’s voice is comforting behind you as he says,

“He’s been present this whole time behind the screen. I invited him here tonight because you’ve looked a bit forlorn lately and I thought you might be cheered by the presence of both of us. But this offer only stands if you are completely comfortable with it, Love. If you’d had indicated otherwise at any point, Masamune would’ve taken that as his cue to leave.”

“That’s right, Lass. Three’s company, isn’t it? So what’ll it be? Will you let me love you?”

Masamune’s hand cradles your cheek, thumb brushing softly across your cheekbone as he patiently awaits your response. And despite your jumbled thoughts, the smirk he flashes Nobunaga’s way doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your eyes sweep over the handsome warlord crouched before you, his robe falling loose to reveal flesh stretched over impressive muscles that allowed the One-Eyed Dragon to dominate on the battlefield. The sight blanketed your mind in a haze of lust that dissipated your initial shock and embarrassment. Leaning back onto Nobunaga’s chest, you spread your legs even further as you welcome Masamune into your outstretched arms,

“Please stay.”

The night air wafting in through a crack in the shoji doors did little to cool the consuming heat generated by your intertwined bodies, endless hands and lips wandering the entirety of your skin to set every nerve ending on fire.

And when you take Masamune into your mouth, savouring the hiss that escapes his lips as yours wrap tightly around his girth, the searing desire shining in Nobunaga’s hypnotic gaze confirms that you are not the only one ecstatic to be sharing your body.

For there was something beautiful in seeing you surrender to a man like the Date Lord, whose methods were almost feral in both urgency and intensity, Nobunaga noted as he sipped leisurely on his sake. The Devil King made himself comfortable, one hand slowly tracing the length of his cock in a bid to remain patient after having decided to allow you and Masamune the chance to become physically acquainted before he layered on his special brand of pleasure.

Hungry eyes watched you gasp for air as you struggled to keep pace with Masamune’s hips driving furiously against your own. Saw you arch onto the crown of your head as lips and teeth left scarlet mementos on neck, shoulders and breasts. Recognized the wanton look of unquenched desire on your face as calloused fingers reached down to rub expertly, leaving you teetering on the brink of release and begging to be pushed over the edge.

The scent of arousal was starting to permeate the room, stirring Nobunaga to action.

Masamune smiles when he sees Nobunaga approach, and you fight to withhold a groan when he pulls out, your body already missing the sensation of clenching around his punishing length.

“I dare say it’s time I get involved in this little game.”

Your lover lays a chaste kiss on your lips and, before you can chase him for more, unceremoniously flips you onto your hands and knees directly above Masamune. Drawing himself against your jutting ass, Nobunaga bends to whisper in your ear, the smooth head of his cock dipping into your drenched folds as he does:

“Would you like to take us both at once?”

Nobunaga had fucked you in the ass before, but accommodating two men at the same time would be a first.

Masamune’s finger traces your lips from below as you contemplate the question, finally slipping into your mouth to gently thrust when you nod your head in consent.

“Good girl,” the One-Eyed Dragon chuckles rakishly as saliva courses down his hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll be gentle. Won’t we, Lord Nobunaga?”

“Always.”

He replies from behind you, his fingers curling in your depths to gather a pool of your arousal, smearing it onto your rear. He slowly inserts one drenched finger and then another, waiting for the undulating clench of your asshole to subside as he carefully stretches you in preparation for something much larger.

“Ready for me, Kitten?”

Masamune’s baritone voice draws your attention, and you nod once again, eager to feel the slippery slide of his cock deep within you. This time around, his thrusts are slow and controlled, allowing Nobunaga to continue with his foreplay. Even still, the thrilling sensation of fullness already borders on overwhelming. Excitement beginning its slow ascent to fever pitch, you pant softly against Masamune’s chest, unable to even imagine how it would feel with Nobunaga buried in you as well.

Practically delirious with pleasure, you had no recollection of Nobunaga coming around to face you until his cock was already pushing past your lips. Masamune’s thrusts send you further and further along his thick length until you almost gag, mouth watering around his cock to leave it a slick mess.

“Perfect.”

Nobunaga says as he pulls away, planting a kiss on your temple before resuming his position behind you. Masamune stills as Nobunaga presses against your rear, insistent until the tension suddenly gives way, the three of you gasping in unison to feel the heat and fullness of his entry.

You fall against Masamune, limbs giving out under the mind-blowing sensation of being filled to capacity in every which way, caught between the hard bodies of two of the most powerful men in the Sengoku period. Never before in your life did you think you would engage in such salacious behaviour. But then again, you also didn’t think you would become a time traveller.

Cheeks flushed with damp hair matted against your face, you were a sight to behold, the very picture of unbridled ecstasy as the warlords settled into an efficient rhythm to provide you with the greatest pleasure possible. Commingled arousal overflowed and smeared across flesh as all three submitted to instinct, each doing their own part in driving towards blissful release.

Through half-lidded eyes, you spy the Lord of Oshu sucking two fingers into his mouth before he brings them down to rub at your clit. Clenching on reflex, you instantaneously draw out moans from both men, disrupting their rhythm as you come undone between the press of their bodies, slippery with sweat.

You whimper to feel the heat of Masamune’s release as he reacts to the fluttering grip of your orgasm, but he remains deeply buried in you, eyes closed and gently stroking your hair as Nobunaga’s burgeoning tension finally snaps.

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It was still pitch dark when you awoke, feeling slightly disoriented. Listening closely, you could hear rhythmic breathing of two different frequencies, but being trapped within the embrace of two sets of arms hindered your ability to look around.

But then the pleasant soreness between your legs reminded you of all that had transpired earlier. So you close your eyes once more, smiling as you snuggled closer to the two men who conspired to make your dream a reality.

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breadcaaat · 5 years

Text

part four

Jeongguk x hybrid!reader

Words: 3.5k

Genre: action, fluff, eventual smut if i’m brave enough??

Warnings: nudity (again,) blood!!, violence, foul language

“You what, kid? You have three jobs already. Take this and you won’t have any time for sleeping, eating… anything not-working. Seriously, what’s up?”

Jeongguk fidgeted, “I, I need the money.”

Yoongi spat his cigarette butt onto the pavement and crushed it with one hard bootheel, wondering out loud what the hell he’s spending all his money on with a growl. Hookers? Cocaine? Clothes? Food? Probably food. Jeongguk doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.

He wiped at his lips and thought about it. It’d be nice to have him around, and it’d be good to keep an eye on him. He could also force the kid (not that he wasn’t more than four years older, cough) to take a nap every once in a while, pay him some bonuses so he gets out of that nasty convenience store.

Thing was, he was already at full staff except for a few shifts, and those weren’t ones he wanted the kid working. Gloss may be a barbershop by day - and a good one, dammit - but at night it served as a tattoo parlor, which was, frankly, illegal since he wasn’t a “licensed medical practitioner.” Those were the times he had shifts open.

He sighed and glanced over at Jeongguk. Yoongi had met him about a year ago when the kid had walked in one day with a too-shaggy bowl cut asking to borrow a pair of scissors. He’d lent them, curious as to what Jeongguk would do, until the kid walked outside and tried to cut his bangs so he could see properly for work. No mirror. Kitchen scissors. Yoongi had just about had an aneurysm. He’d snatched away the scissors, dragged Jeongguk inside, and made him sit through a proper haircut. The kid had complained the whole time, too, trying to sneak away when he wasn’t looking and moaning about not being able to afford these things, to which Yoongi had sat him back down with a glare and continued each time.

“I’m not charging you jack shit. Sit down. Next time your hair gets like this come back here but for God’s sake don’t take a pair of kitchen scissors to it again.”

Since then, Jeongguk had dropped by every so often - delivering breakfast, finishing the odd task here and there, light drinking on his days off. He was endearing. Sweet. Hard-working. Undeserving of all the shit this city had put him through but hey, those were the motions.

“When are you free?”

Jeongguk visibly deflated in relief. “Saturday, Tuesday, and Friday night, and then all day Sunday.”

“Is Sunday your day off normally?”

Jeongguk puckered his lips, not wanting to say yes but physically incapable of telling a lie. Yoongi huffed.

“Jesus, okay. Keep Sunday. Come in on the other three an hour after the shift before it ends, I don’t really care. Does blood make you squeamish?”

“How often is there blood to see in a barbershop?”

“You know what the night shifts are, Jeongguk.”

“Oh. Oh! The tattoo thing?” Yoongi nodded, and he continued. “No, doesn’t bother me.” Yoongi squinted at him until he broke. “Not that much,” he corrected.

“Good. Start whenever, and I’ll officially employ you.”

“... No interview?”

“Do you want to be interviewed?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then congrats,” he patted Jeongguk on the back as he passed him to head back inside Gloss, “ - you’ve got the job.” The bells jingled behind him as he exited that conversation, shaking his head. God, he really was worried about him. It’s not like Yoongi was particularly good at remembering to take care of himself - there’ve been plenty of times he’s accidentally not slept for a couple days or forgotten a few meals. It’s just different with Jungkook, because, well, it’s Jungkook. Yoongi can piss on the temple that’s his body all he wants because it’s his, but Jungkook needs to take care of himself. He’s got an ambiguous future full of possibilities ahead of him, and he’s still growing.

“I’m forcing him to take a nap when he comes in,” he mumbles to himself, sliding behind the front desk to check when his next appointment is.

“I want a new name.”

Jeongguk and Stripes were both lounging that night on opposite sides of the bed, Jeongguk exhausted after two long shifts at the breakfast place and the moving company and Stripes restless from staying inside all day since she didn’t have clothes of her own. Jeongguk was going to try and get some hand-me-downs from Miyun, he just needed a proper excuse to not sound like a weirdo. Until then, she was stuck here in her boredom.

He shuffled, turning on his side to look at her. “Why?”

“I don’t like mine. I want a new one.”

“Well,” he scratched at the side of his nose. “What do you want your name to be?”

She paused, tracing the leather in her hands. When she’d discovered the collar that Jeongguk had salvaged on his kitchen table, she’d been admittedly surprised. Since then she’d been holding and thinking about it, reflecting on her past experiences with it.

Her thumb brushed across the tag, a small brass plate bolted into the front of the collar. On it, it had her name, breed, label as a cagedog, and seller.

“Stripes”

CAGEDOG

Tiger - 牧羊犬

Stripes. She hadn’t realized how much she hated being called that until she was looking at the letters, tracing their place on the shackle that’d kept her a slave for the past three years. Her brushing paused. Stripes was a shackle too.

He grunted questioningly, and she sighed, chucking the collar away somewhere near the balcony. “I’m not sure. Just… not Stripes. Only bad people have called me that.”

He nodded, grabbing his phone from the bed stand.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Looking up one of those baby-naming sites. Let’s start by nationality and go from there, yeah?”

She smiled faintly, scooting over a bit. They weren’t exactly comfortable enough with each other to touch in any sense.

“Alright,” he mumbled. “Any, uh, letter you want?”

She shook her head.

“Let’s just browse, I guess.” So, they did, moving through the alphabet and reading the odd one off here and there. It was probably the most comfortable they’d been with each other since meeting (he hadn’t completely forgotten the restaurant but figured that her saving his life was proper moral retribution) though by no means was it chummy. Just… not anxious.

It’s a start, they thought. Seemed the last week was full of new beginnings.

His scrolling thumb paused, and he tapped at a name thoughtfully. “... What about Y/N?”

Y/N.

Her tail thumped against the duvet and she smiled a bit. Y/N. That name felt like home. “You like that?” he asked. She nodded, then yawned and turned over onto her stomach. He plugged the phone back in and set it aside.

“Alright. Goodnight Y/N.”

She didn't answer verbally, but gingerly let her tail brush his belly like a thankful pat on the shoulder. She's a lot sweeter than she looks, he thought, and fell asleep.

Despite all the exhaustion taking care of another human being cost him, Jeongguk was happy to see changes in Y/N’s attitude and appearance. They were still a little skittish around each other - hell, the way they’d met was so fucking strange in retrospect - but there were moments where things were almost domestic. Little things. Like the way he woke up more often than not with a tail brushing his waist or a finger twisted in the strings of his hoodies. The manner in which whenever he made or brought home food she gravitated towards it with the end of her nose twitching and gleaming eyes. Like how after baths, she’d sidle up to him and stare until he got the message and blow-dried her hair for her, which was both strange and weirdly cute. Her voice had also polished up, and she could speak normally without the no-speak husk to it. These were good days, of course; on others she’d stay on the other side of the room, or escape to the roof, or hide in the bath for a while, speaking very little. More and more good days happened the longer she stayed.

It was as if once she deemed him not-a-threat, all the hostility faded away. He was able to see it now - the bloody, ruthless, tiger-girl act - for what it had been: a survival tactic. She filled him in here and there on how her world had been, and it sounded like it had been honestly horrible.

“Past three years ago, I don’t remember anything.”

“Wait - none of your childhood? All gone?”

“All gone. My life just kind of started up then, and I was living… living a lucid dream. In and out, here and there. This lab, that owner. They groomed me and turned me into something pretty, then sold me to nasty people as a pet.”

“A pet?”

“Mhm. They kept trying to train me - yeah, I see you know what I mean - but I was so angry, it was all I knew. I hurt one of them really bad and got sold off again, a year in, to a cagedogger society. There I was passed around by wealthy cagedoggers until the trade in the ramen shop, when I escaped. I’m the first I’ve ever known to do it. Those men were the poorest and sloppiest of the bunch.”

Hearing all this helped him understand her and her world better, bit by bit, and also offered some surprising closure to the trauma he’d been subjected to in the ramen shop. Has he completely forgotten it? No. Does he not get queasy at the sight of blood anymore? Also no. But it’s so much easier to cope with seeing people die when they’re villains.

Beyond all this, he also found that she had different needs and attitudes decidedly inhuman. Example: the scratching. Two weeks in, Jeongguk had woken up one night to hear her claws picking at the carpet as she stretched, and had woken up to see it all stringy and ruined. He’d scolded her lightly - not really knowing if they were close enough for him to really scold her without her taking off - until she’d explained that she needed to. Stretching, grooming, scent-marking. All very inhuman traits that put him in a bit of a daze. Minutes after, they were meandering over to a pet shop to buy scratch posts. Scratch posts.

There was other stuff, too; the nesting, where she’d pile up used clothes and blankets onto their bed until she deemed it perfect. The midnight walks were a thing too. She’d clamber out the balcony and into the alley to disappear for an hour or two, rejoining him later after a new change of clothes.

Then, at three weeks: play-hunting. It’d scared the shit out of him the first time she’d popped up behind him, tackled him to the ground, and nipped at his ear with a little growl, but he was at a point now where he’d developed a sharp ear for his 6 o’clock. Now when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle he’d whip around and catch her as she pounced. All she needed was a good wrestle here and there to not go stir-crazy, which he was fine with. The general sense of cultural modesty and personal space-bubble he’d grown up with was quickly broken down the more they lived together; bed, couch, kitchen, bathroom. Nudity didn’t bother him so much anymore, which was a surprising development, especially since she was a woman.

There were downsides to living together, though. He’s fucking exhausted. All the time. A few days ago he’d quit his night job at the convenience store and replaced all those shifts at Gloss, helping Yoongi with the shop. He had the suspicion that his hyung was paying him more than the other staff at his level, but he was too tired to complain for the sake of his pride and work ethic. He’d take what he could get. Plus, it was easy work. Keep the place clean, set up some gear, hand him some tools as he worked. There was the whole illegal aspect of it, but honestly - tattoo shops weren’t a major concern for the police force and so Gloss was left alone.

Right now, that’s where he was: sitting on a stool next to Yoongi as he prepared to tattoo matching symbols on a giggly couple, the two girls high on the thrill of doing something outside their parents’ say. Yoongi didn’t seem either irritated or amused; he was impassive, quiet, and growly. Whatever he was feeling, it was completely up to those around him to interpret. It made Jungkook sleepy.

“Antiseptic.” Yoongi set his hand out, and Jeongguk handed a cotton pad of it over. Having watched Yoongi’s process a couple times in the last week and a half, he no longer got nauseous over it. It was actually really interesting. Yoongi would speak up every so often to explain what he was doing, the instinct to pass on what he knew to his younger friend impossible to overcome at times.

Yoongi tossed the pad away into the trash can, quietly double-checking with the girl on the table that the design stencil was what she wanted. Jeongguk prepared to pass him the trimmers as the girl replied with a near breathless Yeah, it’s perfect. Cue a shy little kiss between her and her girlfriend, which made Jeongguk smile a little.

Yoongi trimmed away the body hair where the tattoo would go quickly and efficiently, having practiced this so many times. (Jeongguk had learned that the first tattoo Yoongi ever did was when he was fourteen. Fourteen.)

“Review,” Yoongi drawled in a voice only for Jeongguk to hear, and he ducked down to whisper an answer back.

“Antiseptic to disinfect so she doesn’t get an infection and shave to clear space. And so it heals right.”

“Good.”

Jeongguk preened, sitting back straight.

Next, the stencil. The girls both seemed to hold their breath as Yoongi applied it, and giggled as it was revealed. That made Yoongi smile, faintly; he liked seeing that there were little pieces of the world still naive and innocent as they should be. He hoped these girls lasted despite the knowledge that they’d probably have the typical couple’s dopamine drop in a few months and book it in opposite directions.

The rest of the process was a bit harder to learn and Jeongguk hadn’t quite gotten it nailed down yet, but basically Yoongi would rub in an ointment to help with the process and then begin tattooing, starting with the stencil outline and moving on to color when that was finished. Then there were little finesses to the technique that couldn’t be outlined in a manual, only watched.

So Jeongguk watched.

Here and there he’d pass Yoongi a tool or take a sip of coffee. Twenty minutes passed of this, with the girls cuddling, Yoongi buzzing away, and Jeongguk watching the whole thing.

This is so much better than the convenience store. A headache twinged to life behind his eyebrows and he rubbed at it. Not as good as a full night’s sleep though.

The walk home that night felt exactly like the one when he fell in the river - so exhausted he felt like he was dragging his feet through molasses and eyes dripping shut in the same manner. In fact, all the nights in the past two weeks had felt this way. With his new work schedule he was - arguably - less bored but confoundedly more tired. It was easy to blame Y/N for not working, in his head, but he knew it was wrong to. How could he? There’s no way she could find a job anywhere without being turned away as a freak body modder or cosplayer or whatever the fuck else.

Why is it nobody’s heard about people like her? The cagedoggers? The labs? It was puzzling, disturbing thought. It made Jeongguk realize just how little the public knew about what happened in organized crime, and it made him feel like they’d all been fooled into thinking they knew anything at all. We know so little. He felt smaller now. The darkness in the streets chilled him just a bit more than usual.

He made sure to walk with a hand on the bridge railing.

The jingle of his keys was the only noise in the apartment building’s hall at this time of night, some time past three. He was woozy, drowsy, and some other adjective for fucking exhausted to the point of mania…

… And wide-eyed fucking awake the moment he stepped inside.

The scene: a wide-open balcony window, a bloodied porch. Red footsteps leading to the bathroom. A crumpled backpack, and next to it, a similarly crumpled pile of clothes. Steam rolling from the bathroom. The sound of scrubbing.

“Y/N?” he asked timidly, scolding himself when his voice shook.

The scrubbing stopped. A sniff.

Jeongguk crept in timidly, his hands shaking. The front door seemed so loud as it clicked shut. He called her name again, hating the way his voice shook. The smell of blood was making his stomach turn.

He peered into the bathroom and met her eyes, already looking up at him.

She was sitting in the bathtub, stripped to the skin and blushing all over from the heat of the water. A flimsy washcloth was gripped in her hand, frayed in places from still-extended claws. Her ears flicked back and her eyes widened, smelling his growing dread. It rolled off him in waves. She could smell his adrenaline.

“I…” The need to explain herself was overbearing, but what could she say?

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. Who died this time?

She dipped the cloth back into the rosy hot water, dragging it over her shoulders. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Y/N.” He growled. He could feel something rising in him - anger maybe? A sense of betrayal? He’d thought and trusted that the vicious tiger girl act was over, but…

“A man and his wife, then another guy,” she murmured, and his stomach dropped. She moved on to explain quickly before he kicked her out.

“I’ve been looking in the past few weeks for all the places I remember being owned in, and found one of the auction centers. I was just going to watch, I promise - I…” She looked up at him then, swallowed. “I just wanted to know. Know more. Figure out why people would own other people and the plan was to go in, check it out, and then leave without ever being seen and I would’ve but then this boy stepped up onto the block - I’m talking a boy, Jeongguk. He couldn’t have been older than eight. This foreign couple bid for him and I was so scared for him and angry. He was… the youngest I’ve ever seen.”

She was silent for a moment, and his posture softened. He didn’t know that kids were ever a part of this, not that that made the situation any more or less horrendous than it was, but… kids.

Her eyebrows knitted suddenly and she plunged the washcloth back into the water, dragging another wave of suds across her neck and shoulders.

“I haven’t told you before but we’re not born like this. I’m sure we start out human. I don’t know the tools they use or the people that do it but they turn us into these things - these hybrids - and then they wipe our memory. Blank slate. I woke up one day with no memory of whatever life I’d lived before and…” she pauses, eyes drooping and ears flattening. “I had claws. Ears. A tail - and my eyes felt wrong to look at in a mirror even though I don’t remember what they used to look like. I didn’t even speak Korean. I can’t begin to describe what that’s like Jeongguk. So for a kid…” She swallowed hard, eyes blurring. Jeongguk found himself softening, chest aching.

“I was just so full of… I don’t know. It felt like regret, but for the kid. Regret that he’s gonna be like me and the rest of the pets. So I killed his buyers. Ripped their rib cages open and hung a guard with the wife’s intestines, from the rafters.”

There was silence for a few minutes. Rolling steam. Rusty blood. The fridge hummed in the room behind him.

“And the kid?” Jeongguk found himself asking before he could filter.

Y/N dunked her head under the water and scrubbed at the blood matting her hair down, ears be damned, then emerged with a slosh of water that seemed so incredibly loud.

“Don’t know. They took him into a back room and I ran away.”

A/N: i’m trying to keep an update schedule, once a week but :/ keep the comments comin!! i live off validation !! !

Taglist:@feed-my-geek-soul @starryannaaa @not-novoa @astronomyturtle @anoushe01 @seokchella @dinorahrodriguez

Taglist glitches: @infiressnct

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filmfanatic82 · 5 years

Photo

AO3 link (HERE)

Chapter 4

“But she said, "Where'd you wanna go?

How much you wanna risk?

I'm not looking for somebody

With some superhuman gifts

Some superhero

Some fairytale bliss

Just something I can turn to

Somebody, I can kiss

I want something just like this"

-- Something Just Like This, Chainsmokers

__________

“Don’t kill me.”

“Why?” Hope asks. She shuts her textbook just as Penelope flops down in the empty armchair next to hers.

Penelope gives the library a quick look around and is hit with yet another crushing wave of deja vu. Nine times and counting since returning. Every inch of the school that she steps foot into seems to trigger this unsettling feeling. Like an inescapable lucid dream.

“No reason really,” Penelope responds snapping back into the moment. She runs her hands through her hair and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “You know what… Forget I even said anything.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing… It’s no big deal. I just…” Penelope pauses to take a deep breath of air and--

“ImightveletitslipthatyoulikeLizzieSaltzman.”

“What?” Hope tilts her head, now thoroughly confused.

“I told Josie that you like Lizzie.”

“Ok. I’m not following… Why would I think I’d care about that? It’s not a secret that I’m friends with Lizzie.”

“No.” Penelope sighs. “Not like that. Like you ‘like’ Lizzie.”

A flicker of realization sweeps across Hope’s face and then quickly is replaced with Hope’s standard look of mild annoyance. ”I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” Penelope says with a smirk.

“Really.”

“You know your left eye does this weird half-twitch thing whenever you lie, right?”

Hope doesn’t respond. Instead, she lets out a weighted sigh and shakes her head at Penelope and for the briefest of moments Penelope catches a glimpse of her Hope. The one that she could playfully bicker with for hours on end without ever crossing the line.

A stray pang of homesickness cuts through Penelope but she quickly swallows it down. This isn’t the time nor the place for such emotions. Not when there’s so much at stake.

“Why are we even talking about this? Shouldn’t you be over there, trying to get back into Josie’s good graces?” Hope motions towards the far side of the library and Penelope instantly spots the familiar yellow sweater.

Josie sits at one of the long study tables accompanied by both Lizzie and MG, nose buried within a textbook. At first glance, she seems oblivious to Penelope’s existence but the longer Penelope watches, the more she notices how the siphoner tends to tilt her head upwards every few seconds or so. Not enough to fully make eye contact, but enough nonetheless. She’s more than aware.

Penelope pulls her eyes away as her fingers once again drift upwards towards her neck, searching for the non-existing scar. “I’m working on it.”

“By sitting here with me?”

“I said I’m working on it,” Penelope repeats herself with a bit more bite to her voice. “I can’t just waltz right on over there and start talking to her.”

“Why not?” Hope asks.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously… Why can’t you?”

“Well, for starters, Blondie’s in guard dog mode which means I won’t be able to get within twenty feet of Josie without her attacking me first,” Penelope replies with an exhale of breath. She runs her hands once again through her hair and then glances back over at Josie.

“The Penelope Park I know would never let Lizzie Saltzman get in her way… Especially not when it comes to Josie.”

“Yeah well, the Penelope Park you know doesn’t exist anymore… And this Penelope tends to be more cautious in these kinds of situations… Especially after what she’s seen.”

A silence falls between the two of them as Penelope can feel the all too familiar sensation of Hope’s eyes studying her. Her skin crawls from it, but she refuses to give in, instead opting to keep her focus on Josie. Penelope knows that Hope’s standard interrogation will follow next. It always does. And then usually, after exchanging a few below the belt remarks, the conversation abruptly ends with one of them storming off in order to cool down. Or, on the rare occasion or two, Hope would forgo words altogether and instead force Penelope to spar with her until every last ounce of ongoing frustration dissipates into thin air.

But Hope does neither. Instead, she simply gets up from her armchair, stretches her limbs, and then starts to head towards the other side of the library.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Penelope calls out in a sudden panic.

“To help,” Hope responds over her shoulder and then Penelope watches as Hope sits right down in the free seat next to Lizzie. They start to exchange words and within a matter of seconds, Lizzie gets up from the table and hastily heads out of the library with Hope following right behind her.

A small smile spreads across Penelope’s face as the realization sinks in that no matter what timeline is, Hope always has her back.

Thank god for that.

A few moments later, MG gets up and does the same, leaving Josie all alone.

Penelope makes her way across the library but stops herself short of just up and sitting down at Josie’s table. Instead, she stands there awkwardly waiting for a cue that her company is welcome. A moment passes. Then another… and another… But no such sign comes. Josie remains buried within her textbook seemingly oblivious to the world around her.

Then, just as Penelope starts to turn to head back to her armchair--

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” Josie asks, eyes still glued to the text in front of her.

“Yeah. I was just…” Penelope trails off as she takes a seat.

“Acting strange again?” Josie responds. She finally looks up and Penelope catches a much-needed glimpse of those rich chocolate brown eyes. A small but noticeable smile spreads across Josie’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay? You were out for quite a while in the infirmary this morning and that letter and--”

“I’m okay,” Penelope says, stopping Josie’s ran away train of thoughts dead in its tracks. Without even thinking, she reaches across the table and grabs hold of Josie’s hand. And for the briefest of moments, Josie allows it as if there was never a thousand-foot wall between them. But then, she quickly pulls her hand back, pretending to suddenly need to re-adjust her sweater.

“Well, you don’t seem it… You should take my advice for once and go get checked out again. There could be something seriously wrong, Pen.”

Penelope hums a non-committal response which instantly causes Josie’s smile to morph into a scowl. She knows that she should say something else… Something more along the lines of what 16-year-old Penelope would say. But tapping into that long dominate side of herself is turning out to be harder than she ever imagined.

“What are you reading?” Penelope reaches across the table once again grabbing hold of Josie’s textbook and starts to skim it over.

“Stop changing the subject.”

“I’m not,” Penelope replies. “The Obice spell? That’s an advanced level blocker… Are you reading up on defensive spells?”

“No.” Josie snatches the book back from Penelope as a sudden look of guilt flickers within her eyes. “It’s for a research paper.”

“Riiiight.”

“It is,” Josie huffs.

A momentary silence settles between the two of them and then--

“I could show you.”

“Huh?” Josie asks.

“The spell. I can show you how to perform it, if you’re interested.”

“You know how?”

Penelope gives a nod. “Yeah. It’s not that hard.”

“Okay…”

“Okay.” Penelope matches Josie’s words and smiles. She rises from the table and pushes her chair in. “C’mon.”

“Now?”

“Why not? Unless you really want to go sit through two hours of Dr. Bryce lecturing about the Salem Witch trials…”

“God no.” Josie gets up from the table as well and starts to hastily pack up her belongings. “Anything but that.”

“Good.” Penelope waits for Josie to finish up and then leads the way out of the library.

__________

“Ave, et lapis. Elementa fiet unum. Salva me ex nocere,” Josie chants out loud as she rests her palm against a nearby tree trunk. She takes a moment to center herself and then turns towards Penelope, who’s standing a few yards away. “Okay. Go for it.”

“You sure?” Penelope calls back.

“Yes. Hit me.”

“Sicae pluviam super faciem terrae.” Penelope says with a flick of her wrist and suddenly--

Hundreds of branches snap off of the surrounding trees and sail through the air straight towards Josie. They inch closer and closer as Penelope watches on, eyes fixated on what seems to be a random area 10 feet directly above Josie’s head.

“C’mon… C’mon…” Penelope mutters under her breath as the sticks pick up speed.

20 feet…

15 feet…

10 feet…

“Shit!” Penelope’s hands jut out into the air. “Adolebitque in cineres abit!”

Josie braces for impact but to her surprise, nothing happens. She glances up in confusion and notices that all of the sticks are now frozen in mid-air and fully engulfed in flames. A light shower of ashes fall down around her, blanketing everything in sight.

“How did you…” Josie says in sheer and utter awe as Penelope quickly jogs over to her.

“Are you alright?” Penelope asks, ignoring Josie’s question for the moment. She scans Josie head to toe, checking for any sign at all of potential injuries.

“Yeah. I’m fine…” Josie checks herself as well and then takes another look around at the falling ashes. “What spell was that?”

“Lasracha. It’s an ancient Celtic spell created by a coven of rogue witches. Apparently they were big pyromaniacs or something like that.”

“And what does it do?”

“Mainly sets fire to anything you cast it at... But sometimes it can cause a minor explosion if you perform it under the right circumstances,” Penelope responds and instantly regrets it. It’s too much information.

“So… You just happen to know an ancient Celtic fire spell?” Josie asks with a new level of underlying skepticism to her voice. Penelope swallows down the dry lump in her throat, runs her hands through her hair, and then produces a nonchalant shrug.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Pen…”

“What?” Penelope replies, trying her best to maintain her composure.

“You promised.”

Penelope sighs. “I learned it from an old family friend two years ago. We were visiting Milan and somehow found ourselves in a situation where we needed to start a fire and fast. Anyway, she used Lasracha and it worked. So I made her teach it to me. Figured it might come in handy one of these days.”

Penelope holds her breath as she feels Josie’s eyes upon her. It isn’t a full lie. More like a half-truth if anything at all.

Caroline, Hope, and her had indeed been visiting Milan. And they had wound up in a situation that required the use of Lasracha. But there had also been a rabid pack of Orges and a brutal battle that had left Hope with a ten inch scar running down the length of her right shoulder blade and Penelope with a 3rd degree burn on her upper left thigh. If it hadn’t been for Caroline’s quick thinking with the use of Laracha on the Orges, they wouldn’t have escaped the situation at all.

But those are details better left unsaid because it would only lead to more questions… Questions that Penelope merely can’t afford to answer.

“Could you teach it to me?” Josie asks snapping Penelope back into the moment.

“You?”

“Yes, me.”

“The same girl who turned me into a human torch just a few months ago? Yeah… Don’t think so.”

“It was an accident.”

“That cost me six inches of hair,” Penelope replies and motions up to her short, messy locks for added effect.

“You should be thanking me.” Josie inches forward and Penelope’s brain all but short circuits. She openly stares, allowing herself to momentarily get lost within those chocolate brown orbs as Josie ever so gently reaches up and brushes a stray curl off of her cheek. “It’s way sexier this way.”

“Do you…” Penelope shudders as she tries to speak, but her words are nowhere to be found. “Do you want to…”

“Do I want to what?” Josie lets out a warm laugh. She draws her fingers down the side of Penelope’s cheek, lingering for a moment on the edge of her chin before pulling away. Penelope shuts her eyes and exhales. There are thousands upon thousands of ways she could answer that question. Her wants-- especially when it comes to Josie Saltzman-- are seemingly infinite.

But raw honesty isn’t as simple as it first appears.

Penelope inhales another deep breath of air. “Let’s try the spell again. I’ve got an idea.”

Josie tilts her head in sudden confusion. “Okay…”

“Here.” Penelope re-positions Josie away from the tree trunk and instead into a nearby clearing. “The spell didn’t work because the tree wasn’t a strong enough source. You need to siphon from something more powerful.”

“Right, but there isn’t anything--”

But before Josie can finish her sentence, Penelope takes hold of her hand and interlocks their fingers together. “There’s me.”

“What?” Josie’s eyes dart down to their hands and then back up at Penelope. “No. I can’t… What if I hurt you?”

“You’re not going to hurt me, Jojo. Promise.”

Josie gives a small nod in confirmation, never once taking her eyes off of Penelope. She tightens her hold on Penelope’s hand and suddenly--

Penelope gasps. Every nerve in her body instantaneously ignites with a foreign tingling sensation. It grows from a mild annoyance to virtually unbearable within milliseconds. Penelope grits her teeth and fights against the urge to pull her hand away. Pain is unfortunately an all too familiar old friend.

“Ave, et lapis. Elementa fiet unum. Salva me ex nocere.” Penelope vaguely makes out the words as they tumble from Josie’s lips and then--

BAM.

The world goes black.

__________

“Pen… Pen… Please Pen…”

Penelope rapidly blinks her eyes as the afternoon sunlight all but blinds her. A fresh wave of pain radiates outwards from the back of her skull and suddenly she realizes that she is no longer standing up, but is now laying on the ground instead.

“Fuck Jojo…” Penelope mutters with another hard blink. “Forgot how good you are at making me see stars.”

Two soft hands descend upon Penelope’s cheeks and Penelope can’t help but lean into the touch. God, how she has missed this.

“You scared me,” Josie says, letting out a wet bark of a laugh. “I… I thought…”

Penelope pushes herself up a bit and gently places her hand over Josie’s, rubbing comforting circles with her thumb as she does. “Hey… It’s okay… I’m okay.”

Josie nods, but Penelope still sees a hint of lingering doubts within her eyes.

“Jo… I mean it.” Penelope slowly leans in and rests her forehead against Josie’s. “I’m 100% okay.”

Josie closes her eyes, swallows back down the lump of emotions, and nods once again, this time with a deeper conviction. “Okay.”

Penelope matches Josie’s nod. “Good.”

And time seems to suddenly stand still. Penelope breathes in a slow, methodical rhythm, wordlessly nudging Josie to follow her lead. In and out… In and out… Until their bodies move as one.

“JOSIE!!!!”

Josie and Penelope instantly fall out of sync as the sound of Lizzie’s voice bellows out from the nearby woods.

“Shit. She sounds--”

“Unhinged?” Penelope says with a slightly devilish smirk.

“No. I was going to say upset.” Josie playfully pushes Penelope backwards, breaking their connection. She rises to her feet, dusts herself off, and then extends Penelope her hand. “I should go see what’s going on… You going to be around later?”

“Of course.” Penelope replies.

“JOSIE!!!!” Lizzie’s voice cuts through the air again, slightly closer than before. Josie glances in the direction of the sound and then back at Penelope with an apologetic look. “I’ll come and find you when I’m done.”

“I’ll be waiting, Beautiful.” The pet name rolls off of Penelope’s tongue and instantly, she’s struck with a pang of regret. She braces for the inevitable backlash but surprisingly enough is met with a warm smile instead.

“Okay.” Josie gives Penelope one last nod and then takes off, disappearing into the dense wall of trees.

Penelope watches, waiting until Josie is completely out of sight before letting go of the breath of air she’s been holding onto. “Fuck me.”

#posie #josie saltzman #penelope park #hope mikaelson #legacies #lizzie saltzman #josie x penelope #ao3 #wlw #fanfic

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sponfawn · 5 years

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MTH - Him (Part 1)

This has been rolling around in my brain for a bit now. And since I am officially out of ideas for posts.... I think it's Time.

Him. Aside from Mojo Jojo, one of the most iconic villains in the Powerpuff Girls franchise as a whole, and certainly the most powerful. The reason the Boys were able to survive at all. And a heavy, yet relatively rare presence in TEF.

Despite being such an influential character even within the fic itself, Sbj handles Him with a very light, almost less-is-more touch that keeps Him true to form, yet unknowable. Fans of the original 1998 PPGs will recall that Him's only consistent motivation is his hatred of the Girls and his desire to mess with people's minds. A certain episode, Him's big plot is to give the Girls candy for their birthday so that they'd get cavities. Yet in another, the Girls travel through time and Him has taken over, the town is seriously dilapidated, and the people of Townsville are severely traumatized, minds and personalities twisted in disturbing ways. In MTH, Him seems to be somewhere in between these extremes, likely on the darker end of the spectrum but how far, only Sbj knows.

So what do we know? We know from (this post - linked in reblog) that Him was/is not a great coparent. We know that He probly has given Brick lectures on corporate Evil, and that He wanted the Boys to follow in Mojo and His footsteps. We know that Him had gotten the Boys caught in vortexes before (Butch says that Brick was never good with vortexes), that He was likely abusive. We know the Boys broke free when they were around 12. We know that Him disappeared for roughly 5 years. To the extent that until his first appearance, even Brick with his special connection couldn't sense Him. We know that so far, Him has only appeared three times, quite briefly, and only to Brick. We know that He claims the Vortex was left there absentmindedly, years ago, out of boredom. We know He loves His games and riddles. There are lots of things we don't know. Why did he go under the radar for so long? Was the Vortex actually unintentional? Is he really just chilling and occasionally sending something out to mess with Brick in particular, or does he have a big picture plan that we don't have all the pieces to yet?

I have several theories. First, I think the Boys breaking free of His grasp was a blow. I think Him took some time to nurse His wounds and a budding plan to screw them (especially Brick, the one who solved His "riddle") over. He waited and watched, knowing that someday He'd get His chance. I do wonder about Him's influence outside of Townsville. After the Boys left, Brick, with his newfound control over his life, began lucid dreaming. Him doesn't bother the Boys until they return to Townsville. Not even a peep. Then back in Townsville, Brick never involuntarily dreams again until his subconscious wins over his conscious mind, due to his feelings for Blossom. Aside from it being a symbol of Brick’s feelings of secretly wanting to give up control, I think the dream may also be a symbol of Him's plan slowly moving forward, setting up the trap to ensnare the Boys at least, if not the Girls as well. If Brick’s lucid dreaming symbolizes his freedom from Him, a non-lucid dream might symbolize Him’s encroaching influence. I think as twisted as Him is, He actually loved His Boys in a way. But you can't take from the Devil and expect to get away with it for good. Especially when one of you owes Him a debt. After all, in playwriting there's a saying that if you put a shotgun in Act 1, it has to go off in Act 3. And Boomer's musical talent is quite a fucking shotgun.

I know one “shotgun” and a revenge motive isn't definitive evidence for a plan existing, but there's more. Oh, is there more.

Him only appears to Brick. He only talks to Brick. Obviously that's in part cuz Brick is so easy and fun to mess with. But it also feels in some ways like misdirection. Let's say, misdirection with multiple purposes. Brick is the most likely to put pieces together, to be suspicious, to see the big picture - unless he's distracted with trivial, irritating visits from dear old Dad. Something I noticed awhile ago was that after each incident with Him (or one of Him's toys like the Vortex and his black blob), one of our colorful ships got closer. As a direct result of the first incident, Bubbles resolved her conflicted feelings for Boomer, and they got together. They went from flirty-but-just-friends to dating, within maybe an hour. It also messed enough with Brick, having to try to explain the blob's motives without admitting he had conflicted emotions, to be amusing. During the second incident, which had the primary effect of fucking with all the Boys' minds, especially Brick's, Buttercup began to come to terms more with how important Butch is to her. Literally, immediately after Buttercup starts dissociating and going hysterical, it cuts to Butch opening his eyes in the lab, Buttercup right at his side. They jump from platonic rough housing and gripping each other's arms for pain-tolerance after a brutal sparring match, to cuddling and holding hands while falling asleep next to each other.

Now this could just be a matter of using these events to develop characters, like a suspension bridge effect, but I honestly don't think Sbj wrote anything plot-wise that doesn't have a reason. Obviously, advancing the plot and developing characters is a reason, but when the supercomputer jet Brick designed attacked them, Darius was behind the scenes wanting to fuck with Brick. That incident really didn't bring anyone dramatically closer. When the Robo Jojo's attacked and shot antidote x, Mojo was obviously behind it to try to destroy the Girls. If anything, the immediate effect was that it drove the Reds apart, and Butch couldn't joke around Buttercup for awhile after that. The school shooters didn't bring anyone significantly closer. It made Blossom realize that Brick could be heroic, but the immediate effect wasn't profound. She was still with Chris, and he was still pissy about it. Yet both events involving Him ended with huge shifts in relationships.

While I don't necessarily think that Him could predict precisely what would've happened, I do find it suspicious that whenever He fucks shit up, it triggers enormous, sudden steps in relationship developments. Its a big reminder that Him knew exactly why the Girls and Boys were feeling conflicted when he sent the mist-blob. He knew Brick, Blossom, and Bubbles were all having mixed feelings of attraction and inhibition. (I'd mention Greens but they're both so dysfunctional with emotion recognition and expression that they're probly always conflicted in some way, even if only subconsciously, and at that point it wasn't even a matter of denial of attraction but of recognizing it). With the vortex, He knew about the dreams the Boys were having, knew about their subconscious fears and desires, knew how a vortex might twist them even if not in detail.

The only time He appears where His shenanigans aren't fucking with everyone, is at the Homecoming Game and at the hospital after the Vortex incident. Both times involve Brick. At Homecoming, Him visits Brick and morphs into Blossom to taunt him about his dream and his feelings, make his mind deal with the incongruency of the image and touch of Blossom, mixed with the logical understanding that it wasn't Blossom at all. Tempting, yet repulsing him. Stirring up awareness that he really fucking likes her. It could've been just to fuck with him, tease him a bit. But I can't help but notice that it's the VERY NEXT NIGHT that the Vortex incident happens. And while I'm inclined to believe that Him put the Vortex there years ago, I wonder if Him is subject to time the way other beings are. The way He said, "How was I supposed to anticipate youd fall in?", just seems very suspicious, and not technically a lie since it was posed as a question, albeit implicitly rhetorical. He was actually pissed about the monster horde, which was what caused the building and asphalt around it to cave in, exposing the Vortex. So maybe the Vortex wasnt part of His plan. But it's also unclear how large the vortex was. Was it just the size of the parking garage, or was it lying beneath the entirety of Townsville, waiting to be unearthed by the Girls and/or Boys?

Regarding his anger over the monster horde rampage, we see that it's at least in part due to Brick assuming such an "uncreative" plot was His. But I think He is angry at Mrs Morbucks herself. I feel like he's one of those people like "only I can fuck with my kids and put them in serious danger, no one else". And the way he refers to Mrs Morbucks as "your rich older woman", has the disdain that a parent might have for their kid's unsavory friend. Like a sarcastic "why don't you ask your 'hip' stoner friend?" We know that Mrs Morbucks does evil in the style of subtle, back door schemes in the shadows of the world, and that Brick aspires to that kind of evil. He rejected Him and Mojo's flashy theatrics and their fixation on the PPGs, in favor of working with JS for an impressive salary. Him doesn't approve of any of that, He wanted the Boys to follow in His footsteps. So now He's like a dad scolding him saying, "this is why we don't run with scissors" except it's, "this is why we don't get involved with those secretive corporate types". But I think He might also be mad cuz He had a plan up His sleeve, and Mrs Morbucks' stunt fucked it all up. I mean He visited Brick the Day Before that whole situation, and I can't think that it was just to tease him over Blossom.

(To be continued with the actual master plan theory, now that I've presented all this extraneous evidence for there being a master plan at all)

#sbj more than human #chillin with the villains series #him #part 1 #another very long one

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digitalnomadic · 4 years

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Wth last night my brain literally kept conscious but I was sleeping?

Like I felt my body go to sleep but never had my own thought actually fade. I could feel when they were supposed to but then a couple seconds later I was like WTF just happened to that feeling and why can I still fully think but just felt my body go completely limp and lose the feeling to be able to move but then see dreams forming from the darkness. I literally was conscious all night and it was such a long night.

I was able to open my eyes whenever I wanted by thinking about waking up, and whenever I blinked fast or slow on purpose, my dreams were still going. I could move my body after a couple seconds when I felt my muscle control come back when I wanted to wake up, still be blinking and dreaming, change positions however i wanted, while testing my blinking and still be dreaming, and I was never actually fully asleep. I tested my ability to have my body go alseep or wake up multiple times. I never stopped being conscious....

I kept checking my phone also, and I could seriously completely consciously think the whole time, wait for my body to fall asleep, feel the muscle control for my body fade but not my thoughts at all, and just see the dreams start or have them still be going on. I could open my eyes to the darkness in my room, and when I was closing them I could see everything in my dreams perfectly. I tested this while super freaked out cause wtf.

I was honestly scared but didn't know what to do. I just wanted to sleep. I had gone to bed early, but woke up for a couple hours not being able to sleep before this happened cause I didn't feel well. I felt and still feel so exhausted and hope tonight I sleep well. Idk what has been going on with my body and dreaming lately, and this wasn't paralysis or just lucid dreams like I've been having. Nor was it astral projection because I could not control what my dreams were location wise. I just knew I was in them and would play the part to be more comfortable and not anxious the whole time. I cannot believe I was conscious the whole time. I could literally just wake up and move after a couple seconds by thinking and feeling my body active and vice versa but still have the dreams going any time I blinked or closed my eyes and could just tell my body. Wtfff was this long ass night last night. At least I made good money at work but I'm so tired and can't even nap rn.

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welcometoneptune-blog1 · 6 years

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my mental condition causes weird-ass dreaming conditions.

(Sorry for the format, I'm on mobile.)

So, a bit of backround on this condition. It's really two different things melded into one. Maladaptive Daydreamer Syndrome and Derealism & Depersonalisation. Maladaptive Daydreaming Syndrome, or MDS causes me to have extremely vivid, realistic daydreams and to have no control over my daydreams, but lucid dream at night. So it's kind of switched, I can't control what I do in my dreams when I'm conscious, but I can when I'm not. It makes it so I cannot stop myself from daydreaming. I'll do it at random times, even during a conversation, while I'm reading a book, watching a movie, in class, even while I'm doing something that requires my full attention, I'll somehow daydream. Like I said, I can carry out a full conversation without knowing a single word I said to you, or even that we spoke. I've gotten through multiple class periods without once leaving my daydream. (This is why I'm leaving school and doing online schooling) MDS also makes it so I remeber Dreams/Daydreams from the beggining of when I developed it (4 years ago) to now, I follow the same dream path, or plot, for a while. Like a story! I follow the same story line for a while until my experiences/surroundings/books I'm reading/music I'm listening to change. That sort of introduces Derealism and Depersonalisation (D&D) (haha) come in. Derealism causes me to feel like I'm constantly in a dream or a daydream, even if I'm not. Lights are weird, I can't remember five minutes ago, my surroundings are super whacked up, so is my vision. I can't ground myself, I can be sitting in my bedroom and I won't recognize it. Depersonalisation is like that- but with myself and my body. I don't know who I am, I don't understand myself, I look in the mirror and just feel.. odd. Like I can't quite place where my nose is. It causes lots of mental breakdowns, anxiety attacks, and random crying. Like, I cannot control my tears. (Dodie Clark also suffers from D&D) Now.. Music. Music comes into play a lot. It helps me ground myself, feel something familiar. Like I said, a lot of my daydreams are centred around certain songs or genres or bands. I follow a dream path, or a story line, based of those songs and my own emotions. Members of a band may often slip into my dreams, and I found that I feel a personal connection with them because of the emotions they've already shared with me through their music. To my friends and family, it seems as though I'm obsessed with that band. But really, I'm just emotionally connected to them. It's a connection I absolutely cannot break.

Both these conditions help my depression and anxiety grow. All these things that fuck up my brain combined with an eating disorder and my body that gets seriously sick at least twice a month seriously screw stuff up for me. But my depression is weird. It's a different kind of depression than most people have explained to me that they feel. They explain it as a dark, looming cloud pressing them down. What I feel- and what others may experience as well - is the feeling that you have no control over yourself, that you are not you and no matter how hard you try, you will never fully understand who you are. Because you're so many people. You've lived so many lives, felt so many things, been so many genders, sexualities and ages and identified in so many different ways, lived in so many eras with so many people. You can't possibly know which one was the original you. (This slightly affects me in my beliefs. I believe in reincarnation and the possibility that I was once all of these things and knew all these people I've met in my head.) And of course, there's nostalgia.

Nostalgia for past you's. Past dreams, past realities. Realities you've moved on from. A song may trigger feelings you felt in that dream. For example, Nine In The Afternoon by Panic! At The Disco. This was my favorite song to dream to about all of second grade. I remember the dream was based loosely on the music video. Now, whenever I hear that song I can't help but feel extremely nostalgic.

Anyway, dreams and daydreams meld, making me forget what happened while I was conscious and what didn't. I follow the same dream path for as long as my brain feels there is more to happen.

My current dream began when I (unconsciously) dreamt my own fiery death, then returning as a ghost to my apartment, which also housed my sister (@ellie-thats-all-there-is), someone who wasn't quite but had the face, past, social relations, and career of Gerard Way, and multiple characters from passed dreams. The person who was Gerard Way but wasn't quite was my roomate, and we were close. Like siblings, or maybe parent and child. But we were not blood related. When I returned to my apartment, I found him passed out drunk on the floor. He responded aggressively to seeing me, angry, thinking his drunken brain was causing him to have hallucinations. He eventually passed out. After some time passed, he woke up, this time more sober. He was frightened, but I was able to calmly explain to him that I had appeared beside my grave, which I found salted and burned (for god's sake). I told him I had no idea how, but as time passed, I was able to do things only people with bodies could do, such as eat and sleep. Together, we came to the conclusion I was slowly coming back to life. We didn't know how, but something caused it.

Anyway, that's the overall plot, but many things happened, such as going to concerts with him, when summer ends being told I had to go to a new school with a new name, stuff like that.

But last I had another dream. One I woke up in tears from. It began on the school bus, but it was night. We were all dressed up. There was a dance at the school that we were headed to. The steps to the school were massive, grand, elagant. They dropped off at the sides, though, with no railing. It had to be at least 45 ft. of stairs. Remeber this for later. I climbed the steps to the dance hall, and inside found a dance partner. He was my sister's friend, I met him a few weeks ago at a hot spring. He's 3 years older than me. We danced, he was kind, and we spoke about school and my sisters. For some reason, I had the impression that he would propose to my sister. I was glad with that. I liked him. The moment shifted, I remember running into the bathroom, then out the doors of the dance hall. I suppose my extreme depression and thoughts of death caused me to do this, but I walked to the side of the stairs and jumped off. It was a gorey and grotesque suicide. And it stopped there, then repeated. I was on the bus again. I was given a second chance. People knew of my suicide. It must have been the night after or something, but we were back at the dance hall now. I chose not to dance with the boy from before. I found a girl from school, standing in the corner in the bathroom. We decided to ditch the party. We ran miles and miles, past the city, past everything we knew together. We came to an old house. Behind it was my place. A place I came many times before. It was a field, with thicks of trees along the edges and occasionally in the middle. It was a spacious field, went as far as the eye could see. Wild flowers, sunflowers, red berries, willow trees and long grass. At the back of the field was where a large hill, maybe the beggining of a mountain, started abrubtly. If you climbed a few sharp, jagged cliffs and rocks, which weren't too high, you'd come to a river, just below one if the cliffs. That was the cliff her and I sat on. We kicked our feet over the little river, which was more of a stream. On each side of the hill, or mountain, was an opening. Or- how do I explain this? The hill, which was quite tall, was not very wide. You could walk around it. The tress that outlined the field stopped just before the hill? making a path between the hill and the trees on both sides. You could follow that path, behind the the hill, and come to an even larger field. We never went back there that time, as we weren't looking for an adventure, which we knew that would be. There were psychics and witches and coyotes and all manner of things back there. And even though I was good friends with all of them, her and I just wanted to sit on our little cliff above the stream, or river, feeding each other strawberries, laughing, and kissing in the light of the sunset. It was peaceful. I haven't felt so happy in a while. This experience connects to the song She's The Prettiest Girl At the Party And She Can Prove It With a Solid Right Hook by Frank Iero and The Patience. Maybe today, in my daydreams, her and I will go behind the hill.

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markoberposts · 4 years

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My Apocalypse Now

I just went through one of the most difficult events that I've had to experience in a long time! As you guys probably will agree, I'm not like most people. I don't have anything to "fall back on" besides what my computers offer to me at this point in my life, especially being completely alone. So for me, experiencing power outages feels seriously to me to be the equivalent of what Hell might feel like. Such things can honestly be very difficult for me to endure, and they can at times even be quite scary as well. And I just went through the worst case of one that I've yet had to personally endure (although I'm also well aware that there are many people who have had it much worse as far as longer outages and circumstances and such). But just to try and convey what I was going through, I'll describe it in first person present tense as best as I know how.

The time is 2:27 AM on the late night of New Years Day Holiday (starting up 2020) and I'm currently doing a number of things, all of them being on computers (regular and Xbox [for downloads]). Without any warnings or odd noises or anything else odd on this fair-weather night (no storms around), the lights have suddenly gone completely out! I'm sitting at my work table with my computer still glowing thanks to its batteries, but all else is out...and without any flickers at first, they were just 'on' one moment and then 'off' the next. This seems very strange because there are no storms around and no other signs as to what might be causing this to happen out-of-the-blue like this, with it even being at the very beginning of a new year (and decade) and with this therefore "feeling" like perhaps it may have something to do with this timing. Perhaps terrorists and/or other enemy countries are attacking us right now! So I soon begin thinking of things to search for on the Internet to try to find out what's going on. Suddenly, however, my computer simply shuts itself off! So now I'm very nearly in the complete dark and it is very quiet all around me, although I still have a small APC backup-UPS device for my hard disks that is flashing its green light, meaning that is is continuing to power the hard disks. My computer, unfortunately, went dead because its relatively new batteries were holding less and less charge lately and apparently just got so weak that they could only hold a charge of a few minutes before dying (actually, I later found that they weren't fully dead but had merely reached 7% very quickly at which point the computer was set earlier by me to put itself into Hibernation as a safety feature). So at this point, I am not panicking, but I do feel it very both strange and disconcerting because of there seeming no good reasons for this power outage. So I grab my portable battery-operated multi-band radio and start scanning through its channels as I relax on top of my bed in my dark room. I always keep a flashlight on top of my nightstand available for emergencies, with it being a very reliable and super-long-lasting, medium-small-sized LED flashlight. So I'm using this to help me see throughout the entire remainder of the experience whenever I need some light. And now, with my feeling somewhat scared at first--seriously wondering if we might be having our electrical grids attached in some major fashion or something even more horrifying such as this--I start scanning through both AM and FM bands JUST to see what I can find going on on the radio. Thankfully, at least there are normal-seeming channels still playing from the Phoenix area, and there are no EBS emergency alerts being broadcast on any of them. So at least I can now say that nothing has taken down our entire area's (Phoenix or Arizona or the Western U.S. or ...) electric grid, otherwise either they wouldn't be broadcasting, or if on backup power they'd probably have information about what was taking place along of course with the EBS system emergency tones. But I'm still feeling worried because I know that at ~3 AM in the middle of the night, these shows from anywhere near here are either pre-recorded musical playlists or are all repeats of talk shows from earlier hours. So they might just be running on automatic somehow with everyone having been attacked! Okay, I admit that my imagination DOES tend to run away with me a bit at times...but I never let myself get TOO carried away with this type of thinking. I merely like trying to include as many possibilities as I can think of at the time.

Time then passes by and by and by and BY! And remember, I have neither any computers nor any smartphones! So I am "dead in the water" now (almost...see below) as far as my being able to find out anything about what is going on! So I'm now trying to sleep on top of my bed with coats over me, but with my worrying still due to not knowing anything about what is happening, I'm unable to get very much sleep beyond perhaps a couple of hours (eventually). I've also left my contacts in simply because I would rather have them in just in case I might have to at some point leave due to some type of emergency situation. So I'm intentionally sleeping with them in my eyes, and this never feels good when I do because they're not the types that are designed to be slept in while wearing them. They starve the corneas of oxygen and make thereby them feel sore. So more of the night drags on with my just laying there unable to sleep much at first, and then after about 2 hours and 20 minutes, suddenly the APC backup device shuts itself off, even though I'd unplugged everything from it much earlier, right after the computer had failed. It actually was just a bit before this, in fact, that I suddenly had realized that I can simply plug my computer into it to try finding out from the Internet what is going on. But I was feeling a bit too lazy in bed at the moment and failed to remember that the APC device I bought really doesn't last for very long...just a moderate amount of time depending on the load. So I was just a wee bit too late to take advantage of this idea as it has turned out! So now I'm in pitch blackness all around me!!! It doesn't scare me at all and is in fact a bit refreshing to me even, being that with so many computer-related LED lights being on all the time lately, I rarely get to see anything even close to full darkness lately, not even away from home due to the intense city lights of Phoenix. But what is really starting to get to me now is that I can't sleep, and my mind just won't shut off. So I start tossing and turning a bit. And eventually, I decide to try meditating on my back in bed...actually less of a meditation and more just doing relaxation exercises, particularly with the hope of trying to bring back some of my historical-type "HN" (Head Noise) experiences--as I like to call them--that are either lucid dreams or out-of-body type experiences or perhaps a mixture of both. But I'm just not getting any results from this either, especially being that my neck is always a bit sore in its increasing age and this serves to distract me somewhat from relaxing very deeply any longer nowadays.

So now the real Hell begins for me, because with hours having gone by and my not being able to sleep any further at first, all that I can do is just lay there with virtually nothing whatsoever to do for hours! I could get my flashlight and read some more into my current bedside novel, but I'm just not really feeling excited enough by its story at this point and don't feel like holding a flashlight in order to do so. So I'm not only feeling some anxiety due to my lack of knowing what's going on and not being able to find out about it with it lasting so long, but I'm also bored to death because I have nothing available to do beyond just sitting here and trying to entertain myself with my thoughts, when my thoughts at present aren't really very entertaining! And I'm just tired, alone, and--to be honest--I haven't showered in a while and need to before I can really do anything outside of my apartment beyond perhaps jogging somewhat later. So more and more time passes, and eventually I do get a little sleep because I suddenly realize that it's daylight now and that I'm suddenly waking up, with my checking my watch and finding it to be somewhat after 10 AM. So now I turn the radio back on and start scanning around again on it, and thankfully I'm able to find talk shows and news reports that are coming from Phoenix and that are live morning shows rather than taped type things like in the night. And they are NOT saying anything about any types of attacks or even about power outages. So at least I can reasonably altogether stop worrying now about anything truly major having happened overnight. Plus, it's no longer totally dark now in my apartment, with some degree of sunlight lighting up my room through the glass-sliding-door's white blinds. But the power is still out and yet it's already been around 8 hours so far, along with my still having no clues as to either why this power outage is happening or when it might be over, and with my having very little to do as I continue waiting indefinitely for things to return to normal.

So, out of sheer boredom and wanting to finally accomplish something, I decide to get up from lying on top of my bed and instead start removing my new hard-disk-connection cables out of their boxes and start setting them up a bit. So at least I get this stuff successfully done (I later used one of these new cables with my old XP's hard disk and found that this different manufacturing brand seems to work fine so far, with it seeming virtually the same as Sabrent for this; in fact, I've been assigning this disk the drive letter 'B:' because of it being so fundamental, leaving 'A:' still unused just in case I ever get a floppy drive connection some day again perhaps to read from old floppy-disks to get old programs from off of them someday). I next make and eat a sandwich--a rather large one made with rye bread, turkey, and mozzarella cheese slices--and then, in order to get ready to jog, I next shave with one of my two electric razors (I have one that's rechargeable and another that's fully battery operated, which is the smaller one that I use for this now). So now, with my contacts already in and my being done shaving, I realize that I'm finally ready to go out jogging, especially with the temperatures outdoors just recently having finally started to increase and the Sun finally once again fully shining after so many days without this having been the case. So I next get my jogging in, which my body really needs today; and while I'm leaving for it, I stop by the apartment office along the way and finally am able to inquire about the power outage! They report to me that some vehicle had hit a power pole out front and that the power supposedly should be restored around 6 PM tonight, with it just affecting our complex and a few houses behind it. So thankfully, I'm finally--after hours and hours now--able to relax from feeling any further anxieties about what's going on with this outage, although I'm still suffering from my lack of being able to do anything on computer devices.

So having returned from jogging now, I decide to finally take a shower even while knowing that the water will likely be very cold, with any hot water left in the hot water tank of the apartment complex building having turned cold long, long ago! And boy is it ever cold! This shower is practically ice cold! Each time that I force myself to get under the water-stream, it causes me to breath extremely heavily, gasping for air, and with goose bumps all over my body! And although the water is extremely cold, thankfully after a few seconds of it hitting the same place on my body, it starts to feel just a little less cold, until I eventually move slightly and it starts to hit another spot! So I begin to imagine like I'm almost part of some extended type of one of those "Ice bucket challenges"! Nevertheless, I do finally get my shower experience over with. And truthfully, it was both kind of fun and was very exhilarating and stimulating! But I will not be making a habit of it anytime soon.

After this, all that I'm able to do is once again wait in pure boredom as the Sun sets outside, causing my apartment to return to its pitch black state inside. So I just think further about the situation more deeply as I continue waiting in my somewhat comfortable furnished cushy-chair near the glass sliding door, with 6 PM eventually coming and going but with no power restored yet! Finally, at 6:22 PM, the power does come back on. This means that it was out for virtually 16 hours straight this time, longer than any power outage that I had yet had to experience at any point in my life before this. Just before the power was restored, however, as I had been sitting and thinking more deeply about this situation, I came to truly realize and feel just how much we--and myself in particular--rely on the electrical power in order to survive. Without it, I'd likely end up dead, and here's why. Say it turns out to be a true emergency without the power being able to be restored. Then the only things that I could do are either stay locked up in my apartment waiting to die (or go out and get attacked by evil-minded other people merely looking out for themselves) or take my car and try to make it somewhere outside of the power-outage area, with my not likely being able to get gas along any major lengthy routes being that they'd all likely be tied up and stalled from so many people trying to flee. So being that I currently have no phone and once again may not even have any Internet at such a time, such a simple scenario could so easily end up leading to my death whether from waiting at home or from trying unsuccessfully to make it anywhere far enough away in my car outside of the area without power. The bottom-line is that our modern society for a good period of time will simply stop functioning during a complete power outage, being that no businesses of any type nowadays are designed to be capable of running without electrical power. So most easy-to-get food quickly disappears out of such areas! So it paints a rather grim and scary possibility for my/our future someday, and I'm certainly not looking forward to something like this happening, with it really having scared me somewhat. So it's left me with a seriously-long-lasting impression on me as a result of this single, lengthy, worrisome power outage this time. Indeed, it was MY Apocalypse Now moment for me, one that felt very Hellish and I hope and pray will never occur to either myself nor to anyone else. In fact, after feeling this way, I can't fathom how our military can even allow attempts at hacking the electrical grids of other enemy countries to try and bring them down! It's just such a cruel situation to try and inflict on anyone! At least when you're blown up, that's it!...You likely won't have to suffer for very long. And you wouldn't have to continue living on while feeling lengthy periods of anxiety about everything as you do with long-term power outages. And the absolute biggest thing that I learned from this experience is just how dead that I really am--figuratively speaking--without computer devices! There's just virtually nothing that I can spend any time doing without having them! So in my knowing this now, it causes me to get filled with extreme worry about such a situation or worse occurring at some point--perhaps even very near--in the future, especially with our becoming involved in war-like events lately with some of our apparent enemies. Indeed, even at a mere 16 hours for this power outage, I still became rattled by it almost beyond belief (to me)! So I'm going to try my best to prepare a bit better for such a possibility from this point forward.

#power outages #apacolypse #scary #Internet #computers #electricity #electrical grid

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j-e-green-blog · 7 years

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The Demon Inheritance (5)

F I V E

In the middle of the night, I noticed that the strange dreams began to take a more lucid turn. They were frighteningly real before, but I felt more in the skin of the people I dreamed of, if that made sense. I dreamed of being Ebony once more, and instead of it having anything to do with Salt, she fought someone whom she called a "Dark general”. That dream faded as soon as my eyes opened. I woke in the midst of that dream, and glanced over. I had Dillan’s books collected to the side of my bed, neatly propped against the mattress, waiting to be read. The notebooks had paper within the metal spiral, and were very thin, suggesting he had torn a lot of paper out of it. I picked up book two by random and opened to another randomly selected page. I have come to the conclusion Emma Whitestone is so attractive to humans because she is a succubus. The handwriting was unique, messy, and thinning on the edges. Definately that of a teenage boy. I wrinkled my brow in confusion, not a bit amused. I set that book down and, in the dark, went for book one. I used my air to flip on the lightswitch, and opened it up the the first page, not including the title page. Everyone suffers it differently. Some are cut off from reality in the midst of beginning again. Some experience great physical and mental pain until the day they begin again. Some wait to suffer until after they begin. This caught my interest. There is a transitions occurring there. Imagine: Your whole life you were human, and then you wake up as something else with the fate of existence on your shoulders. This is the way I suffered. I tarnished like metal under the stress of what I could barely believe was real. And what had triggered it? Of course, it was my bloodline. I was found by my Apotropaic, Carter Vurandoes. He came to Earth in a vessel, looking for me, the Vurandoes prophet of darkness. So the tacosexual boy could be serious if he wanted to! To understand some of these things, Emma Whitestone, you should begin reading information at the second book while following book one. I was already used to the fact that these books had been addressed to me. They were written in pen. The ink, at the time of the party, had been able to smear. It suggested Dillan had gone back in older pages to write to me directly, and left the books where he knew I’d snoop. At this point in time, I didn’t imagine myself as ‘crazy’, either. After all, other people experienced the weird daydreams and such. Isn’t that what Dillan had claimed in the first passage? I leaned over and picked up book two. EXTANT LIST Murondoes, Angels - Nahara Claire (Light) Minium, Faeries - Unknown (Fire) Kalos, Demons - Emma Whitestone (Wind) I stiffened at the words sprawled open to my eyes. Dillan knew about my air. And If I wasn’t mistaken, Oliver had called me a demon in one of my former dreams. Is it true? I’m a demon? Perhaps calling me a succubus hadn’t been a joke to Dillan, but the truth… I chortled at the thought. What a weird prank, I thought underneath my fear, and turned the page. Bleahdos (Demons) - Fango Mills (Earth) Minios (Faeries) - Delta Waters (Water) Vurandoes (Angels) - Dillan Raking (obviously) (Darkness) Although the entirety of the six kingdoms was ruled by one deity, two of them have had a founder from the beginning. Murondoes was founded by Jupus, and Kalos was founded by Ebony. My blood went cold and my face went slack. My amusement slipped. It wasn’t realistic, but then again, nothing seemed to be anymore. Everything was true, then… Something huge was going on, and I was a part of it. I let the fact sink in before I kept reading. APOTROPAIC LIST Murondoes - Gan Minium - Ace Kalos - Oliver Oliver was my Apotropaic. I guessed that much. I’d have to call Oliver out on that next time we saw each other in reality, not in my dreams. Vurandoes - Carter Minios - Caleb Blaehdoes - Mun The Apotropaics train their Extants to use their element and amongst other things. They are really old… Seriously, Oliver is over seven hundred years old, and he’s the youngest. (Still don’t know how he’s immortal after all these years! Actually, it’s probably because he isn’t gay and all the females are either his mom or his aunt, but whatever). The only power they share is their species, and they can combine mental energies (for the Extant, it’s their element, not their mental energies), but so can anyone with a Croman mental energy. It doesn’t mean those fake human telepathics or even the real human ones. We can only combine energies (or element) with other Cromans. That's weird, isn't it? And the way our powers work: I am the darkness. I could levitate tacos in the shadows and eat them. I could wipe my ass if the lights were off, using my mind! I huffed. There is literally no new info I can put in and I want to write, so, yeah. I had the feeling that passage hadn’t been looked over when Dillan set the books out for me. This one also actually seemed written by Dillan, while the others took on a dangerously serious tone. I eased up in my bed, unsure that I wasn’t going to across anything so deathly serious that I’d have to tense and hurt myself to take in. The Croma Garden has soil that Croma died on, and so it will be the only fertile soil in the land. However, coming across green in the garden is rare, even more so finding seeds. Dark and Croma were brothers, born alongside the universe. Croma was the very first God, Dark the very first Devil. What was born was an entity of dark (Dark, obviously), light (Croma), and gray (the universe). Dark destroyed, and only knew how to create minions. Croma created, and only knew how to destroy sadness in the lives of his people. This guy was literally like my Grandpa, but with powers, according to all the books about him. So, anyways, the Dark killed Croma in a huge war, an uprising to try and take his land and his beta dimension. The fight was led by the four Dark generals, Satan, Death, Salt, and Gary Bluethorne, who has taken more of a liking to earth than his land. My breath caught in my throat. Bluethorne? That explained his little arguement with Oliver. And he knew I was an 'Extant'. Jupus and Ebony led our defense. Croma died, and his soul was carried away through tunnels in space to another dimension he was making we called The Second, but the new, weaker inhabitants called The Milky Way. Croma - God, as he was reincarnated as - barely had power over the new place, and the inhabitants had to eat and stuff to live, which, apparently, Cromans don’t. Whenever they reincarnated Croma’s soul on earth, one of each kingdom came with. There is actually a theory that most of them died, but we don’t care… The deal was, we find all the prophets in one generation and have them fight. At times, people from the kingdoms became lost in the dimensions. For example, the Kalos died, but Emma Whitestone is still the daughter of two demons, and she isn’t a killer. (Obviously, since I just found out who the Kalos prophet is, this information I’m writing is new.) Me, the daughter of two demons? My mother and father found it difficult to squash a fly, much less anything else. I scoffed nervously at that bit, and set the book down. So, I'm not crazy. Something was happening, and my dreams portrayed it. But what exactly was I fighting, and why? Was I fighting the Dark? I leaned over to pick up the third book, then settled back onto my mattress. The first words on the page jumped out at me. The Dark could make a good several billion devils cower in fear, and more. He is destruction. He is, as the name suggests, dark. I gulped, flipping the page. Each Extant is a piece of Croma, holding in the elements he used to create us. I’ve heard combined energies and do some pretty awesome things, and all six elements being combined is pure creation, which can destroy pure destruction. Not the best wording, but it comes from Ace, so of course it’s going to be awful. Anyways, that’s what happened. Now we’re expected to fight, because the Dark wants to kill Croma (God, he goes by now). God is literally a million times weaker than Croma, and has no idea what’s going on. It’s our job to protect our world and our creator. In the end, we will win. The Dark will die, an we will all suceed and get fat on glory. The war will be won. Either that, or we will come to a stalemate. We will all die… All Extants, the Dark, and the beta dimension will collapse. We’d have given our lives for earth, for our families still on earth, and for our friends that were never part of this. We’d have sacrificed ourselves for everything. We are the ultimate soldiers, trained by the best Apotropaics, ready for war to erupt. People will die in the end, as it happens in every war. Failure is not an option. It's your demon inheritance to win. Emma Whitestone, if you get in my way of saving this world, if you turn on us because you are new to the order here, I will gut you and feed it to Mary. Get it across your head before you act stupid. Oh, and welcome home, soldier. I blew a shaky breath, more in anger than fear. The tacosexual thought he’d be able to hurt me? Even if he had a stronger ‘element’, he couldn’t get to me. Besides, I planned to cooperate. My own way. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about earth, or Croma, or the dimension I lived in. However, like Dillan had said, I had a family and my best friend to protect. To an extent, I agreed with Dillan’s writing. Failure is not an option… I closed the notebook. Shakily, I put it back beside my bed. Then, I lied back in bed. That's right. Even if it's a prank, I have people to protect. My eyes closed. Failure is not an option...

#action #adventure #humor #lgbt #thedemoninheritance

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thebrushedbalcony · 6 years

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Sunday Night 8/5

I suppose I wasn't in the right headspace earlier in the day. I had gone to bed late the night before, I had had one or two small screw-ups that I could write off as not my fault. I had a full 9 hours of sleep before Saturday - and that was after a few short nights. My birthday had been the Thursday before, and I was generally in a good mood during/after. Steven smoked me out at 10, I went to Old Chicago after, and then Tessa and Hoppe came and hung out for just an hour. I suppose at this point, I had been smoking about 6 nights a week for 2 weeks (started right after I lifted my self-imposed ban on not smoking after I closed).

I guess if im going that far back I might as well take an even broader picture of whats been happening in my life recently. Its been 8 months since I moved out into this house. Eight months since I began easily removing any mental boundaries I had set in stone for myself. Drugs, Sex, language (still gonna hold onto that last one for awhile). Something I haven't nearly done enough soul-searching about is God! I'm worried I have so easily dropped an entire life that had been pointing me towards a life of bible-reading, church-attending, and being the perfect role model. Like Amanda moving in! A year ago I would have been proud to flaunt that I didn't smoke or drink or have even the slightest thought about dirty sex outside of a sanctioned marriage. Now look at me, I'm everything past Ethan liked to believe he was better than everyone else about. I guess thats a long-winded way of saying I'm a big ol' hypocrite! These are the big things I have held onto my whole life - my way of always thinking in the back of my head that I'm "better" than everyone else just a bit. And now its all gone awaaay.

I don't mourn the loss of my "innocence" or whatever tho. These were all my decisions, I thought these all out. Sure half of it was probably my hamster going into overload, but just maybe it wasn't! Some of these christian laws and rules that everyone has to follow don't seem very rooted in solid logic. But wow, maybe thats my hamster again. Spinning in overdrive to make up logical reasons for my stupid decisions. Either way, I've got no regrets! This last night is really pushing that though. Sex was fun, and I'm going to continue to have fun with it during my life. Marijuana is fun! I presume I'll still be getting high for years to come. Maybe. Last night was actual, existential pain like I've never felt before. I was able to fully slide into the victim mentality - first time in my life. But I'll get to that later. I'm not sure who these last two paragraphs are for, but I think that is a pretty good look into my head going into last night. Oh yeah - that’s what the point of all that was! Alright. Back to the story.

5 grams of weed. That’s how much I helped Josh distill. 30 bucks, if I went to a cheaper dealer. Josh was on TOP of the math, apparently the cup he just poured was one-hundred-freaking-milligrams. Josh and I didn't take that number seriously. Maybe Josh did more, in the back of his mind, but we both knew steven took like, 80mg of the stuff and didn't feel anything! And the "30mg" cookie I took a week or two ago wasn't really that bad anyway. No way this is 100mg. "These edibles ain't shit!" as I drank actually 100mg and sealed my incredibly unforunate fate. Drank it at 8:30, and I could actually feel it really fast. Like within minutes, just a small sense that something was off. In a good way of course, like cool! Getting high already.

First hour was fun. I was already kinda in a daze, having only got 6 hours of sleep the night before. Having fun, music was great and I even pulled out my phone and recorded whatever strange conversation we were having at the time. The other three were pretty hyped about a firepit, I still think its very funny Josh had lived there so many years and had no idea if there was one around still. I was inside, stuck to a chair when I recorded a bit of what was going on in my head. This must have been about 10:15:

"the house is all screwey. Its like every thing I see is instantly as distant as a sharp memory, srrange focal points and strangw perspectives. Im dreaming? Weird nostslgia molding together, in a not normal way. like an old distant life. im lazq ‰) %/"#÷ame. wow, hah This is lucid, but stuck. Its self aware lucid and is all."

It had been a bit over an hour and a half and I was practically in a dream state. Whats strange is all my other experiences with edibles is I don't notice myself getting much higher after 1.5/2 hours. I guess there was just so much weed it kept on being absorbed. Anyway, Amanda came and grabbed me as Josh and Drew were trying to get the fire started. I was having a grand old time, stumbling around and in complete awe as to how I couldn't file anything I was seeing into a clear and defined memory. It still plays out like an extremely vivid dream in my head. None of the wacky dream stuff was happening, like people I didn't know or new settings, but everything had that strange sheen and warped perspective of not really being there.

I believe it was 10:30/45 when I had to stumble away from the campfire because I had a sudden and very specific feeling that I was going to throw up. I got to my car and realized there was actually a whole lot that was going wrong. I held onto the driver's side of my car for dear life as my reality slowly splintered into anguish. I would have said pain right there, but that wouldn't be right. It wasn't really a sharp bad physical pain, I get a nice dose of that whenever a migraine hits. No this was like, being unplugged from the matrix but the only other option was death. To continue the analogy, I would try and plug myself back in but realized in horror the only thing that defined my existence was a few vague memories from my past when nothing really special happened. That’s all I was, a big ol poser in life with only a false personality given to me by my parents and my church with a few unrelated memories that I pretended tied it all together. It was like my personality and my own being was being broken down to it's pure biology - the entire person I had spent my whole life building up just being ripped away. The worst part is I was locked out of anything that had happened in my brain for the past 10 years. All the dreary foggy terrible memories were from random times when I was growing up, and none of them even had bad emotions attached to them! The horror was them being displayed to me as the only thing that made me a person. It was lifeless, cruel, something was telling me that I've never had any real life, and it was going to rip away every single lie I have told myself since I was born. And all that would be left is a broken and defeated nothing of a living being.

Now, I don't presume to get all spiritual here. That "something" was me, I mean right? I took too much drug, and it went to TOWN and the only thing they had to work with was this brain up here. I'm.... not sure where it came up with all that though. A current working thesis is that... it uncovered something? If marijuana truly only had my brain to work with, it pulled that ugly monster out of SOME deep dark corner. Now I'm sure it completely amplified and morphed this small insecurity into the terrible monster that it became, but nevertheless it was a monster of my own creation. And thats what makes it so terrifying, I was in agony and defeated by MYSELF. Well, plus a buttload of drugs. Hmm, maybe that was it. But Josh and Drew had the same amount! It could be explained away by different tolerances or different mental makeup. Either way, I crossed my boundaries like, WAY far.

Maybe I am overthinking this. I have slowly learned to deal with migraines for the past 10 years - and thats been a huge struggle to fight my body with my mind! Once it hits I can't do anything to stop it. But I've learned to accept it, I ride it out and deal with it - acknowledge that it'll get better eventually. I suppose that is the line of thinking from last night that kept me sane. I knew weed couldn't kill or maim you. You better believe I held onto that thought - that idea like it was my lifeline.

Anyway I told Amanda where the spare was, I got in my car and laid down eventually. I was glad Josh was there in the car with me for some of the time, as I mentioned earlier I knew I had no qualms putting myself in the "very bad victim" category. Normally I would feel bad Josh had to sit in the car with me for 30+ minutes, but I didn't! I was in so much bad having his slight uncomfort was almost expected. That sounds super selfish and I'm very grateful but thats how it was hah. He grabs me some water, dips inside towards the end so he didn't have to stay out there forever. Eventually I get inside, and onto the couch (around 12:10) and I somehow zoned out until 3. I remember some small conversation, someone passed me some sherbert and I think Amanda made pizza later. I knew I didn't want to sleep on the couch so I went downstairs and stole the bed in the middle of the room. Got about 6 hours, and still felt high when I woke up. And theeen I lazed around all day, took a nap and left and came here at 8.

So in conclusion. I think I might have got a bit too fanatic about the whole "hidden mental closet" thing, but maybe not. I definitely had a LOT of weed, and it definitly hit me wrong. The next few days will tell if there is anything different in how I...live? mentally? I think even now 48 hours the shock is wearing off. Even typing this it seems like a really vivid dream. I might not have even typed this if Josh hadn't mentioned that I maybe should, that these experiences can fade away. I guess i'm not surprised, my sober mind is probably busy chucking that memory into a trash bag and dragging it down to the landfill!

I guess, with my first few paragraphs being hindsight, I do have a lot of scary thoughts that I don't think about. Who am I really, what are my real boundaries, if I can throw out these big boundaries so easily, who's to say I chuck the baby out with the bathwater and give up on my personality as I've started with! Haha naa, I like what I am. There I said it, I am haappy with who I am. Maybe a bit more sex would help with the self esteem, and a bit more money would be quite welcome as well - but I'm doing alright. I've got my own house, a freaking perfect mini-studio in here, a tired but nice job, and a really awesome friend in Josh. In his parent's freaking fairy-tale house. 2/10 would bad trip again fo sho

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sarahburness · 7 years

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How Our Egos Create Drama in Our Relationships (and How to Avoid It)

“The ego is the false self-born out of fear and defensiveness.” ~John O’Donohue

I started a new relationship in December 2015, then moved countries to be with my Swedish partner in August, 2016.

The last year has been life changing in the best possible ways. I’ve learned so much about myself, things I didn’t have the courage to acknowledge before.

But it hasn’t all been a bed of roses—some of the insights I’ve gleaned haven’t been that comfortable to see.

We met on an intensive spiritual retreat in India. We’ve both spent many years working on ourselves and our issues, so it’s fair to say we’re both awake and aware. But this has not guaranteed an easy ride or a challenge-free relationship.

We both still have to work hard on the problems that come up, affecting us both individually and as a couple.

When our disagreements or arguments erupt, it is often over the smallest things, which seem so important at the time. A prime example is when my partner asks me to do something without saying “please” (something that’s common in Sweden.)

Such a minor failing has the power to seriously irritate me, causing our argument to blow up out of all proportion—sending one or either of us into fits of temper tantrums that can end with one or both of us brooding and not speaking to the other.

Although we’re both aware how childishly we’re behaving and can see our over-reactions, we are nevertheless at a loss to stop or change this process. Why? Because of our egos!

For the first time in my life I am seeing, experiencing, and understanding the ego play that takes place in every conflict I have. These insights are allowing me to unravel the true nature of my ego and its workings.

If I were to describe my ego, I would compare it to an irritable, barely containable caged monster on the one hand and an irate, screaming five-year-old on the other. And just like a child that doesn’t get her own way, she’s constantly throwing tantrums.

These tantrums take the form of anger, hurt, fear, defensiveness, exaggeration, frustration, self-preservation, insecurity, self-pity, and tears—all mixed with large quantities of drama.

In the heat of an argument, my five-year-old ego is very quick to feel hurt, so she reacts by jumping, stamping her feet, cursing, and defending herself. Then, just as quickly, the caged monster surfaces, rearing up like an angry giant, sword and shield in hand, ready to inflict hurt in return.

I literally see my ego self rising up like a dark shadowy character, looming menacingly above my head.

Of course I know this ego play doesn’t solve anything—it only serves to trigger my partner’s own ego defense games. Suddenly we’re both wounded five-year-olds, shouting and throwing ugly insults back and forth at each other.

Then, invariably, we have to argue about who started it and which one of us is right.

As you can imagine, these ego battles take up a lot of energy and are very stressful, not to mention emotionally draining.

I notice that when I’m in this heightened state of drama, my ability for logical thinking goes out of the window. I lose all connection to my grown-up self and I feel the adult receding, regressing me back to an insecure child.

I see myself adopting the same body language and survival strategies I used when I got into disputes with my mother during childhood.

Looking back, it’s obvious to me that my current over-reactions have a lot to do with how I was brought up. My mother was a strict matriarch with black and white views—grey areas didn’t exist in her world. She was always right and everyone else wrong, and there was no room for argument.

If I ever dared to argue, I would be quickly silenced with a barrage of cutting words or physical blows that would leave me hurt, feeling powerless and seething for hours. My voice was quashed, my will controlled, and I felt small and stifled.

As a child, I didn’t have the awareness to recognize the surge of my ego during these altercations with my mother, when my very existence felt under threat. But of course, every part of me screamed silently in protest, including my ego.

Now, as a so-called mature fifty-year-old adult, it’s quite disconcerting to visibly witness my conditioned responses popping to the surface during heated conflicts, especially when some part of me feels threatened.

These responses haven’t altered or evolved at all since my childhood. Sometimes it feels like I’ve never really grown up.

I still discover myself seething in the same helpless way to emotional triggers and feeling the same powerlessness when my will is challenged or when I feel controlled, as I often do during conflicts with my partner.

My ego rears up in anger and defense in exactly the way it did when I was a child.

And yet, even in the most extreme spells of ego drama, I’m sometimes able to take a step back from my hurt, stealing a momentary pause from the heat of my frustration.

These short breaks allow my anger to calm, giving space for my ego to stand down. Then I’m able to recognize the reasons for my exaggerated reactions, understanding that a part of me was feeling threatened.

I’ve observed that my biggest over-reactions occur when my partner threatens what I deem important; for example, the time and money I spend on my spiritual activities.

In these brief moments of lucidity, the ego is fully exposed with technicolor clarity. In this instant, the cause of our argument, which seemed so important just a few minutes before, completely loses its power and dissolves, rendering the whole situation funny and somewhat ridiculous.

My ego’s true nature is laid bare during these points of pure seeing.

It’s utterly clear to me that my ego simply functions to protect the parts of myself I feel I must defend, secure, or guard, like my will, my way of expression, my beliefs and moral values.

My ego jumps up in defense of these values because of the importance I’ve given them, effectively giving my ego permission to react whenever these values feel challenged.

Amazingly, the truth is, these morals can only exert power over me if I allow them to. I can equally decide not to give them any power at all, which should gradually stop my ego’s need to defend them.

I know it will take time to break this pattern of over-reactions to emotional triggers, since my conditioned responses are almost automatic now. However, in conflict situations, if in one time out of ten I don’t react, it will certainly make a difference to my life and relationships, won’t it?

What a liberation that will be!

For years I’ve unknowingly been trapped in the same ego cycle of trigger/reaction, trigger/reaction that developed when I was a child.

Now, with the benefit of being able to witness my ego play in action, I no longer feel a prisoner of its games. For the first time in life, I am learning to choose whether or not to react.

These other insights around my ego are helping to improve my partner relationship, as well as the relationships with family and friends.

The ego wants to blame others.

We have all become so accustomed to blaming other people and circumstances that we are often not even conscious that we’re doing it.

On the surface, it’s much easier to blame others, because it removes the burden of accountability from us and places it firmly at the feet of the other. However, although blaming others appears to be a quick-fix solution, in all honesty, it isn’t.

Believe it or not, blaming others takes away our control of the situation and passes it onto the other. It prevents us from seeing the whole truth of the issue and blocks us from fully understanding ourselves, which can keep us stuck in the same obstructive patterns of behavior.

For years I blamed my mother for everything that was wrong in my life. I blamed her for not being there for me, for not supporting my dreams, and for not being the parent I expected her to be. Spending so much time and energy blaming her, I wasn’t able to see my own part in the situation.

When I finally had the courage to stop blaming my mother, it came as quite a shock to me to realize that I was equally responsible for the things I was unhappy with.

It’s clear to me that my ego’s fear of admitting culpability kept me in blame mode.

I naturally progressed onto blaming my partner, because my ego makes it difficult for me to accept my part in a conflict that I am at least partly responsible for. So it’s no surprise our arguments escalate as they do.

Ultimately, we must all strive to accept responsibility for every action we take, even the ones we’re ashamed of. The more we’re able to do this, the stronger we become and the weaker our egos will be, gradually loosening the grip they have on us.

The ego covers up.

Another thing I can say about the ego is that it will do anything to cover up its mistakes, especially when it sees it’s wrong. Its attempts to cover up increase when caught red-handed, behaving just like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I remember when I was a child, even when I was caught in the act, I would do everything I could to cover up my mistake, trying my best to deny the blatant truth.

Maybe my actions as a child could be excused, but sadly, my behavior as an adult hasn’t improved—I still find myself fighting to deny the truth when I’m unexpectedly caught off guard. Like when my partner surprises me, by correctly guessing the trivial cause of my upset.

My ego hates being so easily called out, so it must cover up and defend.

One of the hardest things for any of us to do is to admit we are wrong, because when we own up to being wrong, it automatically makes the other right.

And being wrong is something our egos cannot bear. As a result, we find it difficult to say sorry or to ask forgiveness, which exacerbates our conflicts.

I’m also recognizing that our inability to admit our wrongdoing keeps us stuck in our defensive positions, which allows our egos to fool us into fighting, justifying, and defending every point of view—a complete drain of our energy.

I’ve noticed, however, that when I see the truth and can openly admit it to my partner, surprisingly, rather than separating us, the admission brings us closer together, healing some of the hurt we created during our conflict.

So admitting that we are wrong need not be a negative experience, but can instead empower us, lessening some of the control our egos have on us.

The ego wants to hurt back.

For me, one of the worst things in the world is the pain of feeling hurt, as I imagine is true for most of us.

Sometimes, the hurt we feel paralyzes us and we’re unable to fight back, but at other times, the only thing we can think of is how we can hurt the other person back.

Our egos trick us into believing that hurting the other will alleviate the pain we’re feeling.

I’ve realized that in all conflict situations, it is actually our egos that feel hurt. Again because some value or aspect of the image we have internally built up of ourselves is being challenged, threatened, or undermined in one way or another.

I’m ashamed to say that on many occasions, both in my childhood and adulthood, my ego has wanted nothing more than to inflict as much pain on others as possible, as a way of lessening some of the hurt it was feeling.

But retaliation is not the answer; it only adds more fuel to the fires of our egos.

Maybe I can be forgiven for saying that in my childhood, hurting others was an unconscious reaction to my own feelings of hurt. And in the recent past when I was still unawake, hurting someone who hurt me was my natural course of action. But now, with my increasing awareness, knowingly hurting another is not something I can condone.

In the heat of ego fights between me and my partner, when my ego rears up ready to defend itself, it’s hard, but I am becoming more and more able to check myself, before I go over the line with insults I know will cause my partner pain. Even when I feel he has crossed the line with me, I can still consciously stop myself from going too far.

I consider this a huge triumph over my ego, and something I’m proud of.

Every time I can stop myself from blindly over-reacting to a perceived threat to my values and can become an observer of my ego and its games, I know I’m taking a step in the right direction.

The more conscious we can all become of our ego play in action, the more freedom we will gain from our egos. Then, over time and with consistent effort, positive changes to our life journeys and relationships are inevitable.

Artwork by artbymanjiri, CC 2.0

About Jacqueline Vanderpuye

Jacqueline Vanderpuye is a medium, energy worker, avid meditator, and spiritual guide. She began her inner journey while living and working in Shanghai, exploring journaling and writing as a form of personal therapy. Jacqueline enjoys writing about topics that affect her everyday. She now lives in Sweden. For personal readings, spiritual coaching, and more information contact Jacqueline at [email protected] www.calloftheinnervoice.com.

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