#which is why he sort of stays away during the events of the hollow boy as to not burden her with his feelings

[eevee-haze]

Aight so It's... not news to literally anyone that I like Ink sans a lot as a concept, and his birthday is today, so I figured what better way to celebrate his birthday than to make a brand new AU (or at least post the info for it)! Or I guess three since I'm working on Swap and Fell variants for it as well.

One of my main questions about the Underground was "how do they handle seismic activity" which was how this AU started forming. It's probably not at all scientifically accurate in the least, but oh well. I call it Rifttale. Cause the earthquakes cause literal rifts in the mountain lmao. I'll put the rest under a read more since this'll get long.

The idea of Rifttale is that Mt Ebott is located on a fault line, and all the hollowing out the monsters had to do made the mountain extremely unstable, and that problem only increased the more the underground's population grew. It's pretty dangerous underground in Rifttale what with the constant threat of cave in due to poor structural integrity and the fact that they don't really have much to work with to make their homes and businesses quake resistant. A fair portion of houses get rubble rained down on them and something always needs fixing.

All four sections of the underground remain, but the layout and placement are different. (And probably larger scale) For example, Snowdin is located near the top of the mountain since snow from the peak falls in through the cracks left in the roof of the cavern, and Hotland is at the very bottom of the mountain, where lava has surged up from the seismic activity. Both Waterfall and New Home are around the mid section, but are separated by a thick wall of rubble that followed a quake that happened maybe days before Frisk fell.

Sans

The man of many jobs adds two more responsibilities to the list rather begrudgingly in this AU. As one of the only Monsters capable of gravity manipulation and teleportation in Snowdin, he and his brother are tasked with being emergency responders in case of an earthquake as well as assisting with any initial construction steps in order to make bridges across newly formed gaps. Sans often gets called to other regions for his services too, but he really doesn't appreciate it.

Frankly he's convinced the mountain's going to crush them before they get the final soul they need, which is part of why he agrees to keep Frisk safe so easily. He doubts anything will change about their predicament with or without them. A No-Mercy route in Rifttale would see him saying things like "Couldn't have waited for the mountain to get us?" Or "I think I would have preferred a cave-in."

Something Rift!Sans doesn't really tell people is that he's blind in his right eye. When he and Papyrus were little, he shielded Papyrus from falling rocks during a quake, and one of them got him good just above his right eye. Most of the injury healed but it left a nasty crack in his socket which prevented him from actually being able to see. He can light the socket, and does so strangers don't needlessly worry about him, but it can't light up all the way like his left does.

Papyrus

Ah yes the sunshine boy. Personality wise he's not that different in this AU. He still wants to be in the guard and he's still confident and friendly, but sometimes he gets a little subdued and worried about Sans since Rift!Sans is much more obvious about his emotional/mental struggles. Another notable part is that he's being kept out of the guard mostly because he's more useful in the emergency unit. He's strong and capable enough to be a guard, but he's too soft, so they gave him a job that was helpful while playing to his strengths.... though like a silly he doesn't see the admirers he has and still hopes to become a guardsman one day.

Frisk & Chara

These two are interesting in this AU. Chara was around 13-14 when they died and spent years underground with the Dreemurrs before their death. They have a strong distaste for their own kind for several reasons, among which being the way they were treated (that led them to run away in the first place) and the fact that they forced such nice creatures into what is essentially a death trap.

They're a bit of a gremlin, but they're certainly not all bad like they consider themself to be.

Frisk on the other hand is a quiet child of roughly nine years. Adventurous and curious, but also blind. They hadn't seen the hole when they were exploring and ended up falling down. They rely on Chara to lead them around the more treacherous parts of the underground since they can't see it. (Chara is able to touch Frisk and tends to tug them by the wrist when guiding them.) Chara starts off really unhappy about guiding them, and depending on the route will even refuse to do so, not that it matters in a No-Mercy route. That's because in the No-Mercy route the Player is more of an active component. Frisk physically can't fight back on their own, and Chara would never help them do so. Essentially the Player is just an entity used by us creators to manipulate Frisk into a No-Mercy route since it wouldn't happen otherwise.

Asriel & Flowey

Personality wise the two really aren't all that different. Asriel is the slightest bit more skittish thanks to his timid nature and the uncertainty that comes with the constant tremors, and Flowey is the slightest bit more bearable. He still doesn't have much in the way of emotions, but it's pretty obvious their situation is bleak without him making it worse (As such, while he has tried No-Mercy in the past, most of his runs were seeing what effects smaller changes had. The volatile environment made it interesting regardless).

Though he's notably far more annoyed about losing his save and reload powers in Rifttale because he'd been in the middle of trying something when Frisk fell.

On the more technical side, Flowey doesn't tend to get around much when there aren't bridges over the chasms. While he can cross them himself, its a pain if they're too awfully wide. This means that the severe quakes tended to impede him a lot.

Toriel & Asgore

As a result of the meddling Flowey was doing, Toriel reclaimed her place as Queen and has been talking things over with her husband about everything that happened. Stuck in the ruins she hadn't gotten the news that Asgore amended his statement later on to say that they would only take the souls of humans that fell if they were hostile or after they died of natural causes. None of the children who fell were killed by monsters. (Many died in partial cave-ins or from falling into lava or the like, though so a quick death from a monster likely would have been preferable.)

Toriel still thinks that going out and just collecting the remaining souls they need would be faster, but Asgore argued a few points on that such as doing so likely angering the humans and giving them a further negative bias as well as the fact that whoever went to get the souls may well die like their children did.

They're still working things out but it's better than how it was before.

Toriel still spends a lot of her time in the ruins, but now its more out of a sense of duty since most of the children fell into the ruins first. She actually guides Frisk up until they meet Sans where she passes escorting them to him since he is more capable of ensuring their safety, and she needs to hurry ahead to make preparations for their stay and inform Asgore.

Alphys

Predictably not much different personality wise. She's actually one of the safer monsters since she never leaves her lab and it's reinforced to withstand rockfalls to some degree, not to mention the basement level with the true lab in it (though its hot as heck down there cause of the magma nearby.) Her primary goal is more geared toward keeping the underground as stable as possible so that they can hopefully last until they get the last soul. That's not to say the amalgamates don't exist, they do, but she's at least been looking busy as sort of an excuse why she hasn't answered back any of the letters. No time for mail when she's trying to save people, after all.

Undyne

Captain of the Royal guard, still. The guard does still exist, it's just less numerous and has more focus on recruiting strong members. After all they exist in case a hostile human arrives instead. So naturally Undyne is even more of a badass than normal, and she's ready in the event of a No-Mercy run. Even in a pacifist playthrough she's a bit wary of Frisk, notably not wanting to leave Alphys alone with them in case they were hiding their true intentions. This means she's the one who ends up escorting the human through the first little bit of Hotland after Waterfall, whereupon Mettaton would take over.

Mettaton

Considering a Human-killing robot was no longer needed, he was created with maneuverability in mind. The idea was that he could help others when needed, much like the emergency rescue portion of the guard, but Mettaton much preferred to focus on his career of course. He’s part of the reason Sans keeps being called to help out in other regions which gets him a healthy amount of resentment from the older skeleton.

Gaster

No major story involvement, but he does have plot importance. Gaster was the Skelebro’s father, and while he made them artificially, he did care about them a lot. Not much about him still remains and very few remember any details about him since he was quite a reclusive skeleton. He was close friends with the Riverperson however, so that’s who ended up essentially raising the two skeletons after Gaster fell into the Core. They provided for them despite being gone a lot.

Misc. Details

Children that stayed for an extended period were often called the “New Hope” a term coined when Chara first became a part of the Dreemurr family

Not all children opted to stay with the royal family, hence their belongings being stored in different regions

There were hostile humans that fell as well, but most met their fate in the lava and their souls were burnt up before they could be retrieved.

Frisk had fairly negligent parents. They weren’t outright abusive, but they really didn’t pay much attention to them.

Portions of the Waterfall part of the Underground have large nets bridging the gaps to catch the garbage that falls down that way nothing gets wasted falling into the chasms.

The Delta Rune on Sans’s coat is a reflective sticker. They told him he needed to wear something reflective for visibility’s sake and because he wasn’t willing to mess up his jacket, nor go without it, he cheated the system.

Papyrus wears a battle body just like normal, but he hot-glued some of the reflective material from human clothing that ended up falling down onto it so that he could both look cool and follow rules

Despite being a very neat and cleanly skeleton, Papyrus often ends up dirty as a consequence of his job. Because of that he takes care to meticulously clean both himself and the house before they go to bed.

#undertale #undertale au #reference #new au i guess #rifttale #utmv #happy birthday inky ily #abuse implied #with chara's bg that is #neglect mention #it's a lot of minor changes but i love this au okay

[muwitch]

Why the Fullbringer Arc is an important plot milestone - 2

the continuation of this post and I’m bak on my bullshit~ remember my brain will jump to things

also CFYOW spoilers

so part 2/?

key figures and themes of the arc

So last time I said that ppl disliked the majority of new characters because, as opposing to the ones we grew familiar with, the arc was differently paced and so we didn’t have time at large to form some sort of solid connection to them.

And here the magic happens, because we do not have time to get attached to the characters and they seem to be faded against the background of all the others.

But apart from COMPARISON Fullbringers are quite an independent unit that focuses not on how much reiatsu you have, but on skill

In the Can't fear your own world novel the origin of Fullbringer power is revealed and it’s shown how actually universally badass those powers are, take Tsukishima for example, who grows a tree in a second to ward off lightning, simply adding himself to the past. Atomic.

For living people even just getting close to the level of those with whom they fought (three captains and three leutenants) and not dying in the first moment (except u Giriko) is a great achievement. For people who are not Ichigo Kurosaki with a family tree rivaling GoT of course. 

There is another important motive associated with fullbringers, which I mentioned above, and this is LONELINESS. And it's served so brilliantly that I'm going to die now.

If you look and read carefully, it becomes clear that even the fullbringers gathered together are unusually, exasperately lonely. (See the cover? They reach out but never do truly connect) This is the curse of their power. This is their main weakness. This is their unusual humanity and kinship with the Hollows.

This is also why, but that’s my guess, their whole presentation is very lacking, to show how they fall out of everyday life and proper sozialising, so even we, as readers, cannot properly connect to them. Same reach out, but not hold symbolism. Or I am giving too much credit, we just don’t know?

Even the one who has assembled the whole group, Ginjo, is an even lonelier person who has terrible trust issues, who survived betrayal and persecution, and everything that he once believed in was set upside down. And even knowing what kind of person he is, fullbringers, driven by loneliness, followed him. (Though, we must admit, he weilds his words well and rolls +20 on persuation)

Because, although for a short time, he helped them to bear the burden of this loneliness.

Needless to say, the entire initial situation with OG fullbringers happened not only bc of some noble meddling, but also due to the fact that Ginjo gathered people to TAKE POWER FROM THEM SO THEY COULD LIVE A NORMAL LIFE

Ironically enough, each Fullbringer posesses a piece of SOUL KING, which is the source of their power and lures Hollows to pregnant mothers, which is such an important piece of information it makes me mad it was only explained in CFYOW. 

Although it is understandable why Kubo chose not to focus on it during the arc. My take is he planned to show the importance of Fullbringers and their origins during TYBW, but we all know it didn’t happen.

Another common theme that follows from the previous two is PTSD, which unites the characters and key figures of the arc, and the paths of experiencing trauma constitute another conflict, where Ichigo overcomes it through friends and the return of strength and motivation, as opposed to Ginjo, who choses destuctive way to handle his own trauma.

In short flashbacks shown during “Pray for Predators” chapters, we can also clearly see PSTD practically in every person’s past. Each of Fullbringers go about it differenly, most proactive being probably Riruka and most reactive being Tsukishima and Ginjo. Which is also symbolically shown that people, who can go own with their lives and finally integrate into society stay alive. Those, who cannot, go to SS and are set into new path by more drastic measures.

I will surely attribute to the pluses how Kubo shows Ichigo's PTSD, literally in 3-4 chapters showing how he cannot, like Remarque's hero, settle in peacetime, because he constantly catches triggers, for example with his substitute badge.

Through Ichigo’s thoughts is shown how he merged with his position as a substitute shinigami and constantly thinks in categories that are not very applicable to his normal life, which he seemed to have dreamed of for 16 years And now he actually got it, but absolutely does not know what to do with it.

Kubo skillfully fuels PTSD and Ichigo's anxiety which is why he is being swayed by Ginjo's words correctly spoken at the right time.

 Example: Karin speaks of his brother, they say he always fought to protect  Ginjo fuels Ichigo’s doubt , saying he must act to protect his family

Accordingly, the theme approaches the climax for a push into the plot at the time of the attack on Ishida, Ichigo gets a punch in the gut twice: first from Ishida himself, who, with his unwillingness to tell things, pokes Ichigo into his helplessness and excludes him from the circle of trust, which IS the last blow 

And then from Ishida's father, who by his behavior shows that Ichigo's efficiency now amounts to zero, so much so that he cannot even protect Orihime while she walks home, which is why he runs away in frustrated feelings, realizing the message. So this intro is absolutely veritable and ingenious.

And so that you understand how desperate Ichigo is, if not yet, then here is a panel where FATTEST visual forshadowing happens. And here is an absolutely genius moment to understand that Ichigo is not a child but a teenager with all that it implies

He may be battle-hardened, but this is a 17-year-old living boy with trust issues, and if we remember that through his manager's lips we are given a direct hint that Ichigo is still immature in a way, so the meaning of this arc as a stage of Ishigo's psychological maturation becomes clearer.

Just look at the face he has when Ginjo promises to return his powers (not to mention the hysterics after that) Is this a healthy person's face?

And here my hands are literally itching to start talking about Ginjo, because to give an antihero who, in addition, will have a much closer dynamics with Ichi than Urahara, plus for the duration of the arc  will act as a mentor and father figure, this is just genius. Don’t @ me.

But the next plus, which will then bring us further, and this is THE Forshadowing 

Everywhere, just everywhere, starting from the very first pages.

And Kubo still confuses us in the course of the narrative, but my god, when you re-read, Easter eggs are crammed almost in every chapter and I think its beautiful. Both verbal (Ginjo is such a bad actor that he has to change his memory badumts) and visual

The plus that I mentioned earlier is 100% more lively dynamics between Ginjo and Ichi, because both are people and in fact, there is much more than it may seem at first, that brings both together. And the friendly connection that they establish with each other in this arc still not 100% false placeholder. (Which is easily spotted by the way Ginjo adresses Ichigo through the arc especially last chapters). 

And at the same time, they are in many ways the antonyms of each other, in age, color scheme, design, even names and also in what gives them motivation, in how they react to this or that event. For example, Ichigo is quite an emotional guy and puts his soul into everything, so to speak, then Ginjo, for example

Plus, the latter is not only skillful manipulator, but also embittered. And through such contrast, with generally the same input data, Kubo shows us that there is always a different path, leading to the topic choice, and where each specific one can lead a character.

Which absolutely doesn’t stop Ichigo from familirizing himself right off the bat and the two of them have comedy gold moments from the start. It is more lively, than being set against 300+ y.o. Urahara (whom I love as a character).

And, cross my heart Isshin is a great character, but he’s got that father of the year award, and Urahara can only give like a little itsy bitsy of information at a time only if it benefits him or a bigger picture, so the mentor’s role goes to Ginjo, which is well earned as he is technically the First Substitute. 

Ginjo is a mentor, a guide, and the main antagonist of the arc, which in itself is an unexpected and interesting combination within the framework of�� Bleach. Here is a living example, in the moment of training he can go so far as to help Ichigo overcome his psychological barrier by simply and cruelly breaking him.

Which he does in the most painful way, through the trauma and inability of Ichigo to protect his loved ones. And from the reaction of the latter, childish and naive, his immaturity can be clearly seen (see the previous points). Although we do not know this yet, Ginjo is constantly trying to teach Ichigo one lesson that he himself learned the hard way. 

Combining this with such an important praise for a teenager and faith in Ighigo’s powers, which Ichigo was deprived of for 17 months as soon as he lost his powers as a shinigami ( all relatives are trying to isolate him from this, no one believes that he can and is able to stand up for him). This is another plus of the arc, namely the whole depth of the betrayal that Ichigo experiences when the cards are revealed.

Maybe the quincy arc would go completely differently, if Ichigo felt Ishida's betrayal or reacted to the truth about his mother in a different way. Did Ginjo not temper/prepare Ichigo in the way he did, did he involuntary not strengthen Ichi internally... Who knows how Bleach would end in general.

 This is to the question of the importance of this arc yes 

P.S  Strengthening the body also benefited Ichigo.Friendly reminder that he fights in his physical body for the entire arc except the end.

And the training episode immediately appears in a different light, right? 

And in my next hot take I will focus on another really important thing which is salvation and my own bitterness of why didn’t Kubo explore the whole SS thing and now we have to fee ourselves

#bleach #bleach meta #ginjo kugo #ichigo kurosaki #fullbringers #my fingers are tired #omg i can't shut up #look at all the potential we could have #look at ginjo #this is for free

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin  Part 2

Requested: No

Word Count: 1753

Warning: Cursing

POV: Reader

Note: Glad you guys enjoyed the first one,decided to do one from the reader’s perspective. I may continue it. Haven’t decided yet.

You shouldn’t be here. Yet here you were in the same spot you’d been only one year ago. God, how times had changed. That night you had been so carefree, so light of heart. Now, all you felt was an emptiness that permeated deep down into your soul. An emptiness that even the man standing next to you couldn’t bring you back from. You’d only crawled out of its hollowness recently, when friends insisted it was time to move on. Which is why you found yourself here with Robert; this place that evoked so many memories, so many emotions. You wanted to run, dismiss yourself from these people milling around chatting about inconsequential things. Instead you plastered on a smile, masking the pain that was tearing your heart apart.

 A year ago, you’d been standing at the bar when he’d come up to you. While you couldn’t recall the exact conversation; you could still remember the look in his eyes, the timber in his voice and way he carried himself. Tyler had always been a cocky son of a bitch, but that night there was a vulnerability to him; a softness that warmed your heart. The two of you had laughed, danced and chatted the whole night, not noticing anyone around you. It was only when the wait staff were fumbling around clearing the room, that you’d both recognized the event had ended. Not wanting the night with you to end, Tyler had offered you drinks at his place. It had turned into so much more; bodies entwined with each other, moans filling the air, stolen kisses that never ended. Your relationship had just sort of fell into place. Everything with Ty was so easy; loving him had been so easy.

 You’d never realized that the arrogant hockey player he portrayed on the ice, was secretly so insecure. He’d spent a lifetime creating a reputation as one of hockey’s bad boys; only it was all a facade to mask the loneliness he carried around. Hell, even the dogs he cared and loved for so much were a coping mechanism for him. So, when he opened up to you showing this sweet, vulnerable side of himself, the true Tyler Seguin; you fell, knee deep into him. You gave him your whole heart; only asking for his in return. For a time, you had it; you’d been the only woman in his life. Until that day, or maybe it was before then you really didn’t know; hadn’t stayed around to find out the answer.

 You’d been away in Los Angeles for work. Speaking to Tyler frequently during the day; always ending each night with him on the phone. It was towards the end of your trip. You’d woke up that morning, scrolled through social media to find pictures of him and some blonde. He was laughing at her in the first picture, grinding up on her ass in the second; and the third, well it was the one that tore you in two. His lips locked on hers, the kiss intimate; as if he’d kissed her a thousand times before then. Your stomach lurched, rolling around making you sick as you stared back at the photo. It was then that you read one of the captions, ‘Me and my boyfriend,’ it stated simply. The next thing you knew you were dry heaving in the toilet. You couldn’t breathe, it was if the weight of the world was crushing down on you. The phone rang, the ringtone one you recognized; thankfully it wasn’t Tyler. Even though it was your best friend you didn’t answer it; you weren’t ready to face the reality of the last few minutes. All the fears you’d ever had about your relationship finally coming to fruition.

 You hauled yourself up off the bathroom floor, splashing cold water on your face. You needed to get a grip, you had to be in a meeting in an hour. Numbly you walked yourself through your morning rituals. Sitting in the meeting your mind trying to focus on what the speaker was saying; all while images of that kiss popped up in your brain. As the day drew to a close you packed your bags and headed back to Dallas; back to a life you no longer had. Sitting in the airport you finally glanced at your phone; nineteen voicemail messages. Some from Tyler, most from friends. You couldn’t talk to anyone right now or you’d just ball your eyes out, so you text your best friend asking if you could stay with her for a while. The reply came back immediately, you knew the answer before it was sent. Now all you had to do was grab your things and get the hell out of dodge.

 The drive back to your home with Tyler was blur, maybe it was from all the tears falling down your face; or maybe you finally resigned yourself to your fate, a life without Tyler in it; you weren’t sure which. You left your suitcase in the car, knowing you still had luggage in the house that you could pack. The moment you opened the door he was there; tears stained his face. It only hardened your resolve to get out of there quickly. You didn’t speak just walked to the bedroom and started grabbing things. His apology echoing in your ears as you moved blindly through the room. You didn’t want to hear it, couldn’t hear it. Taking only what you needed you closed the bag; kneeling down finally to kiss the pups goodbye. Tears flowing freely now. Your heart was shattered; this had been your life and Tyler your world and it was all gone now. You stood up, never looking at him; pausing momentarily at the door only to say two final words, “Goodbye Ty.” With that you’d closed the door, ending your relationship.

 Someone asked you a question, drawing you back to present day. You smiled politely, making idle chit chat. Robert moved his hand to the small of you bare back. Bare only because of the dress he’d bought you. He wanted you to play Ana to his Christian Grey; sending you the dress you had on with the matching shoes. Why you’d put it on you didn’t know; how he knew your damn size was something you’d visit later. You laughed, the fake one, you reserved for occasions such as these. You were good at it; it was why you currently held the lofty position you did at your company. Hell, it was probably the reason Robert thought you should be draped on his arm. They didn’t know the real you though, only Tyler did. Right now, you weren’t sure anyone else was ever going to get to know the real you.

 This place, it brought up so many memories of Tyler. You swear you could feel him watching you; that you had seen him from the corner of your eye. It was all tricks though; not that he couldn’t be here. You just didn’t think he’d have the balls to show up. Not after what he did, cheating on you was one thing; but when the pictures surfaced of him in some godforsaken alleyway with the blonde’s mouth around his cock; well that was the last straw. You knew management would be upset with him. Hell, even some of his teammates couldn’t stand the sight of him. He’d not only shamed you, but them in the process. Jamie, had begged you to talk to Tyler, hoping to repair some of the damage that had been done. He told you Tyler was a mess without you. At the time you were glad he was; you were a wreck yourself. It was only right that he was living in his own hell. Maybe there would be a day that you could see him, but right now, talking to Jamie it wasn’t going to happen.

 The hand on your back shifted lower to your ass; rubbing up and down. You knew what Robert wanted, vaguely you thought that maybe it would numb some of the pain you were experiencing. You tried to forget about all the pleasure you’d received under Tyler ministrations. At night when you would pleasure yourself, you’d think of anyone, anyone but him. But in the peak of your climax it was always Tyler’s face that popped into you mind; his name on your lips. You had a feeling things with Robert wouldn’t be any different. Fuck, you needed air.

 You excused yourself from the conversation; claiming you need to use the ladies restroom. When all you really wanted to do was head out the front door, call an Uber and head back home. You made your way to the foyer where the crowd was less abundant. You sensed him before you saw him; all night you thought your mind had been playing tricks on you only to come to the realization that yes indeed Tyler was here. You stopped, watched each step as he made his way to stand before you. Hands shaking, from frustration, possibly; more likely it was to keep from touching him. Tonight, had elicited all kinds of memories both good and bad; at the moment seeing him, all you could think about was the good. You looked at him; the dark circles under his eyes showing he hadn’t slept much. His thin frame, that usually happened at the end of the season more predominate now and the season was only under way. Every instinct in your body wanted to reach out and take him in your arms; bring back the man you once loved. Still loved you corrected yourself. You tampered down the urge; instead simply saying “Tyler.”

 His eyes borrowed into yours, reaching deep down into your soul. Regrets and nerves playing across his face as he slowly whispered your name. You thought your knees were going to give out, when he spoke. A tidal wave of emotions washed over you; as you stood in the sand, sinking deeper into the ocean that was Tyler, not knowing if you could swim back to shore after this encounter.  A tear rolled down your cheek; his thumb coming up to brush it away. The small contact shattering your resolve. It was finally time; time to hear, time to listen and hopefully time to understand. The fracture he had left in your heart shifted; but whether it was cracking more or being fussed back together was too early to tell. 

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #fanfic #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

[kimshavacado]

Dead Heat Ch. 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader

Genre: Yet another Arranged Marriage/Mafia AU

Summary: Three extremely powerful families with enough power to bring down entire governments, all with vastly different views on how things should be run. The Min family thinks everything can be solved with money, the Jeon family think everything can be solved with violence, and the Kim family relies more on thought which leads to a lack of action. When Kim Y/N loses her father, she only has one way to save herself and her family. But it involves having to give herself over to a stranger. How the hell is she not supposed to punch him in his stupid rich face?

Dead Heat Masterlist

A/N: Hi there lovelies. This is the first time I’ve ever written anything of my own, I usually just edit friends work, it’s something I’ve been doing for years. I came up with this weird plot and thought I’d take a shot at it. I’ve also always wanted to write Y/N as a badass. This is just another stereotypical fic, and I’m not really sure how long this will be, but I’m kinda looking forward to it. :D

Chapter 1: The Fire In Her Eyes

Never once have you felt the way that you feel right now. Even when you think about all the shit you’ve been put through the past 24 years of your life, nothing comes close to the scale of the fire coursing through your vanes in this moment. It’s not just anger, it’s bigger and more complex. Sure, you’re angry. At your father, at yourself, and at the asshole standing in front of you. But there’s something that adds a hollowness to the melting pot of emotions inside of you. Loneliness. Helplessness. That man’s stupid face as it looks at you certainly doesn’t help. He has this confused expression that’s just dying to be wiped off of his face by a sharp cut of your hand. It seems comical how dull someone could be. You feel everything piling up to the point where you’re about to explode. But instead of keeping face as usual you storm toward the man with fire in your eyes.

*2 weeks earlier*

“Y/N, it’s time to go.” Your best friend of over 20 years says down to you. Instead of responding, you get up off the couch that you’ve been sitting on for the past 2 hours and silently follow him as he leads you both down the building’s main staircase. As you walk through the crowd of people dressed in black he glances back at you a couple of times, most likely trying to analyze your vacant expression.

“The fact that you haven’t even said a word today makes it seem like you’re actually sad he’s gone.”

At hearing this you stop walking. You finally look your friend in the eyes and notice the worried expression on his face. Your hard stare causes his expression to fall. He looks away from you and towards the floor as you continue walking past him. When you reach the base of the stairs, you barely notice the faces of the well-dressed people you pass as you head directly out the door. You’d rather die than receive looks of pity from people you barely know.

Once outside you find solace in the dark and quiet car that’s been waiting for you. You’re alone for less than a minute before Jimin finally joins you inside. When the car starts moving, he doesn’t say anything else to you because he knows you more than anyone. He knows exactly what situation you’re in right now. You’re not even remotely sad about the death of your father. Not with all the shit he put you through growing up.

On one hand you feel like a weight has been lifted off you because he’s gone. No one is left to tell you what your purpose in life is. On the other hand, a new weight has been placed on your shoulders because of what’s about to happen to your family. Something your father had never anticipated happening was dying and leaving you in charge. Yet his untimely death had spoiled his plans. You, being unmarried and an only child, were all that were left of the Kim’s.

As the car finally pulled up to the decently sized mansion you and Jimin still sat in silence. You didn’t notice when Jimin turned his head towards you as you sat there contemplating the events over the last few days. You heard him let out a sigh and let ti hang in the air before you finally faced him and broke the silence.

“I’m sorry. Thanks for today.” You say as you finally look away, not feeling the need to say anything else.

That was something that was great about your relationship, words weren’t always needed. He knew you needed time to sort your thoughts out before a heartfelt discussion on what the hell you were going to do about your situation. You might have seen a slight reassuring smile on his lips after your thanks had you not already been dragging yourself out of the car leaving him inside as you make your way up the steps of your home.

Before you know it you are laying on your bed in your pajamas staring at the ceiling. You barely remember walking up your large staircase or even changing out of your black funeral dress. The house is quiet and empty which makes every moment stretch on forever but simultaneously flash by in the blink of an eye. Your mind is in this surreal state of limbo, but it gives you the peace to go over your options.

Your family is likely to support your father’s opinions on you taking over. They’re very traditional and have their eyes set on a strong male head of the family. There are some who would support your claim, but many don’t know of your abilities to lead since you were so inhibited by your father. Theoretically, someone else in the family could take over, most likely Jin. He’s never expressed interest in leading the entire family but he’s highly respected here. But then what happens to you? You can’t just leave and start a new life, and know you’d never be able to.

If this is the case and someone else takes over, you’ll probably be given away to someone. Jin is married already so that ruins your chances of coming even close to staying as you are in the family. Not that you want to marry him anyway, sure he’s got a pretty face, but he thinks a lot like your father, which is something you aren’t very fond of. Still, your life will never be the same. You just hope that that’ll be a good thing. So long as you get out of it alive.

That night you dream of your childhood. There are a few moments from when you were younger that let you forget the truth about your lifeand future and you are lucky enough to recall them tonight, when you need it most. Tonight you recall the night that you and Jimin became friends.

It was during some annual family get together. It wasn’t a fancy ordeal, just a time for everyone to be together. All the parents had left the children to mingle in a separate area of the house. Jimin had always seen you around at these things. When you were around all the other kids he was intimidated by you.

You were loud and friendly while he was quiet and shy. This is why little Jimin found it strange when he didn’t see you in the center of the room feasting on the attention of the other kids. After wandering, he instead found you in a room down the hall sitting outside of an open window looking up at the sky. It was the first time in days it had been clear enough to see the stars.

Jimin climbed outside to join you and sat next to you silently. The two of you star gaze for quite a while without saying anything.

“What do you think it’s like to be a star?” You ask the young boy next to you. 

“I… don’t know.” He timidly answers.

“I think it’d be wonderful. You can look down and see everything that’s going on everywhere in the world, and you get to see a ton of other stars too!” You excitedly answer your own question.

“I heard that when people die, they turn into stars.” Jimin adds.

“Really!? So one day I’ll get to be a real life star!?” Jimin sees you bursting with excitement and is only able to give you the biggest eye smile you’ve ever seen as he nods in confirmation.

You two spend the rest of the night alternating between talking about what you would do as stars and gazing in silence. It was really the first time when you felt you could be yourself around someone else. Maybe it was because of how innocent he seemed. You wish you could relive moments like that every night, when times were simpler. But with morning comes the reminder of the harsh reality that you are going to have to face.

The next day is a meeting with some high-ranking men in the Kim family. They too have been wondering what the hell was going to happen with your father gone. It’s no surprise to you how quickly it was decided that Jin, one of your father’s right-hand men would take over at least temporarily. At this point you shut your brain down, just wanting to be anywhere but here, especially when they move on to politics of the change and relationships with the other families.

After over an hour of the board’s relentless debating, you let your mind start to wander away from all the issues in your life. You’re about five seconds from dozing off when you catch the end of a certain sentence.

“…best interest to ally families.” Your eyes immediately shoot toward the direction of the speaker knowing exactly where this is going. Jin, one of your father’s righthand men, notices your sudden attention on him.

 “Since the death of his father last year, Min Yoongi has become the richest man in the country. Your father and his were in good standing with each other before their deaths. Marriage between our families was something that was discussed but never acted upon because of unfortunate timing. I’ve talked with Min representatives and it’s something that they’d still be interested in.”

 “What would that do for us?” I ask. “So what, I go marry him and become a Min?” 

“Like we were saying before, Y/N, we’re not in the best financial position.” Jin responds, realizing you weren’t listening to everything before.

“Why do you think that is?” You challenge.

“Y/N-“

“We pride ourselves in what? How smart we think we are? How we think things out and come up with long term plans that we never carry out?” You interrupt. Somehow you keep face and continue your rant towards the board.

“We’re a sorry excuse for a family, we’ve got no power and can easily be cut down by everyone else because my father, who you seem to hold in such high regard, was a misogynistic pig who cared more about how many different brands of scotch he could collect that the longevity of the family-”

 “Y/N!” Jin stops you and stands up, staring you down. So you do the same. You stand and place your palm of the table. You direct your serious expression towards the faces of the surprised members of the board until you land back on Jin.

You look pissed but composed, an ability you got from your father which made it look like you could set fire to the entire world and still have the same look in your eyes. It looks like Jin is about to say something, but you don’t give him the privilege.

 “You know I’d do better.” And you calmly turn and walk out.

 You’ve lost, but you’ve also won. Things were decided in the meeting that wouldn’t be easy to change, but you did gain something. The words you said about the family and your father would’ve gotten anyone else killed, but instead it showed them all who you were. Not many people had seen the fire in you come out when your father was alive. Women were always supposed to behave and save face, but that never changed the fact that you are your father’s only child.

Even though he wasn’t a good man, he was a frightening one. He was intelligent and everyone knew that he was capable of horrible things. You on the other hand, knew he didn’t care about horrible things or what his job was as the head of the family. There was a time where he might have been an awesome scary boss, but you surely hadn’t seen it.

He was more content on just existing and having the power, which might have worked had there not been other families and had we not been involved with organized crime. And now he’s dead for it. You, however, know what it takes to be the biggest player in the game and hope you get to be as cunning as he was because you know you wouldn’t waste it. But for now, you have to worry about crap like marriage instead.

Min Yoongi, the richest bachelor in the country. How lucky are you? You bet he’s just like his father.

Min Yoongi sits across the table from you with an unreadable expression on his face. It’s almost like he doesn’t care that any of this is happening. Like it’s some minor annoyance and he’d rather be somewhere else.

The meeting is fast and formal and you two don’t say a word to each other. Papers and pens are exchanged as well as conversation between family representatives.

Eventually you catch his eyes and you two remain unmoved in a stare down. The intenseness of your expression causes Yoongi to furrow his brows. It’s an expression of curiosity, afterall, he’s never met you why are you suddenly looking at him like you’re about to jump across the table and stab him with one of the pens?

The men around you interrupt your little exchange by shaking hands and collecting papers. You watch as they act like they just bought a car or something. Not just put two incompatible people together.

By the time you turn away from the final handshakes, you see Yoongi is gone. What a charmer. At least that means I may not see him often. Your men collect you and take you home, which will soon not be your home. 

That night you’re out on your balcony with Jimin watching the sky as you talk about the strange meeting.

“Was he cute at least?” Jimin asks you.

“I can’t remember, I was too focused on the dumb look on his face. How could someone not care what the hell someone else does with their life? It was like I was some minor disruption in his day.” Jimin looks at you expectantly basically ignoring what you said.

“He’s not fat.” You concede. “Not horrible looking, but he is short. You’d probably like him.”

“I’m gonna assume you say that because he’s attractive and not because you think I’m short.” He responds. You snort at this as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“What am I going to do?” You ask yourself after a moment.

“Use the situation to your advantage and take what’s yours. It’s what you do best.” Jimin tells you, somehow knowing an answer that would work for you. You knew you picked a good best friend. The two of you sat under the sky and star gazed that night for what would be the last time.

A/N: I promise it’ll get a little less cliché in future parts. The first scene I wrote which made me want to write this in the first place is coming soon along with some Yoongi. I had to rewrite the entire plot of the first chapter so I hope there are no holes so far. I hope this turns out well. Thanks lovelies.

Next Chapter

#min yoongi #min yoongi fic #park jimin #suga bts #suga bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #suga smut #bestfriend jimin #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader #kim seokjin #arranged marriage au #mafia au #enemies to lovers #angry reader #suga angst #jimin fluff #bts smut #bts #bts fanfiction #bts mafia #bts scenarios #bts imagines

[emptinas-aa]

the   master   of   masters     //     alternate   universe

i’ve decided to go ahead and make this an official verse! so far this’ll be a test to see how i like it and if my mutuals and rp partners enjoy it as well! below is a big ol’ dump of info for anyone interested or just curious as to how i’ve managed to rationalize this one angery boy being the master of masters himself.

ATTITUDE.

i know this is an odd place to start but it was one of the main things i wanted to tackle before committing to this idea ─── the master of masters and vanitas act very differently and i wanted to explore this aspect in detail before branching into anything else, so i think it’s a good place to start as far as solidifying my ideas go.

i’ve established before on this blog how much i love to put emphasis on vanitas’ unversed and how he expresses less emotion the more unversed he’s expelled as it pushes emotions out of his native body and into an extension of himself. in birth by sleep vanitas is his quietest, he’s calm and collected and doesn’t really snap or yell very often if at all, this is because he has thousands of his unversed spread across multiple worlds at once, his main body is left feeling hollow and emotionless, and he likes feeling this way as it puts him fiercely in charge of himself. in kh3 he’s louder and snappier, considerably so, and this is because his unversed only occupy one world, monstropolis, and later on a bit of the keyblade graveyard as well. a lot of his reactions to things are more personal and human-like because of this.

during the age of fairy tales... vanitas, or rather the master of masters, keeps all of his unversed inside at all times ― and yes, he does have the ability to create unversed at this time. the reason the master of masters is so aloof and out there, why he’s so expressive with his reactions and being over the top with his moods changing like the flick of a switch is because he has countless emotions bubbling away inside him all at once, all fighting for the forefront.

in kingdom hearts 3 and remind you see glimpses in vanitas’ attitude that don’t exactly fit him... ‘hey guys, feeling a little LEFT OUT HERE’ with such vim and vigor, such a need for attention that the mom definitely portrays at times too, and ‘venty-wenty’? things that i at least can personally say i’d never expected to hear vanitas say, so why is this change happening? why now? well... i’ll get to that in a bit.

VANISHED, DIMMED, AND FADED WITHOUT A TRACE.

so before i go any further i wanna take a bit of a jump back to instead talk about how i see the master of masters becoming vanitas, how this change in not just attitude but his entire person is so different before we tackle the most recent stuff and him realizing who he was / is.

all the way back to the age of fairy tales; the fact that ventus resides in this timeline is sort of the saving grace for this au - along with of course vanitas’ mention in remind about how they were never the same person to begin with. anyway ─── when the master decided it was high time he booked it outta there and let the world take the wheel, he discarded his coat and physical form ( which is already something my canon vanitas can do, discard sora’s body and just be a bunch of sentient, floating darkness ) to instead plant himself inside the heart of the one boy he knew thanks to the book of prophecies would flee the keyblade war and make it relatively unharmed to the world to come and actually live it; ventus.

there he stayed until xehanort extracted the darkness from ventus’ heart in bbs, ‘creating’ him. we already know that this process left ventus without his memories and in a near zombified state for quite some time ― the master of masters wasn’t much different; losing all his memories of his time as said master, a near blank slate with only recollection of his time as ventus post the age of fairy tales at his disposal.

a being with all this excess power he could barely control let alone contain, the unversed now came in waves and rest assured xehanort was thrilled ― the abuse, neglect, and mistreatment came with xehanort’s desire to control vanitas and meld him into his ‘perfect darkness’, it changed him from who he used to be, a chaotic and free spirit now to one of anger and jealousy, of envy and hatred, no longer armed with the knowledge of his creation, the book of prophecies, or anything else aside from xehanort’s harsh teachings.

flash forward now to kh3 where vanitas has reformed himself from the negativity flowing from monstropolis, he’s given an organization cloak for the first time ― and this is where things begin to change. recall in remind when the mom and young xehanort speak? how xeha mentions he feels a connection to the coat, how he feels it was meant for him, he was supposed to wear this; well, a similar sensation occurred in vanitas too. he felt a connection, a piece of the past slipping back through the cracks, it comes back little piece by little piece. vanitas keeps this a secret from xehanort, doing his best not to allow the slowly returning memories to become apparent as the man knows oh so many ways to get whatever he wants out of him at this point, but you see bits of a changing personality slip through like i’d mentioned before, the little bits of dialogue that feel just a little too off.

THE FUTURE.

this is where my info begins to run dry! as for what his plans are and what he intends to do from here on out, i’m not too sure, but somehow i feel like that’s very very fitting for his character. honestly, i wouldn’t be surprised if after his death in kh3 he manages to reform himself to his former appearance and, especially with xehanort dead and gone, can continue his watch over the world as the events to come play out as intended. he’s a watchman, a spectator, a journalist, purely there for the ride and to write down what his eyes see from many different reaches of the world.

and who knows? luxu’s done a great job fulfilling his role ― maybe it’s about time for an unprompted rendezvous.

SOME EXTRA TIDBITS.

the master of masters is the original embodiment of darkness created by kingdom hearts to balance the light

he is chaotic neutral

he’s always had the power to create unversed, but would rarely if ever do so before his time as vanitas

he was aware of his fate to lose his memories and become xehanort’s living punching bag and yet still helped ymx be put on his path

the coat helps him keep his unversed inside

#◜ study. ◞ ᵈᵒᵒᵐᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵃˡˡ . #au tbt // #/ GOD I HOPE THIS SHIT MAKES SENSE BC I'M NOT LOOKING AT IT ANY LONGER SDGYUSDGF / #/ NOW I HAVE TO ICON MOM I'M FUCKI / #/ S H I T UDFGUYSDGF / #/ ELMO RAISING HELL.JPEG /

[joaquintoadstool]

This is a story I wrote for my university literature club last year

The Voice

Sally Fitzroy gazes through her window overlooking the gas giant Astarte; its clouds are the color of faded copper. She takes a drag on her joint and observes idly how cyclonic patterns cascade and swirl into one another. The cloud-skimmer isn’t back yet from its He3 run; she can’t afford another screw up, Jolliffe is expecting to refuel a flotilla of cargo vessels bound for an H-congruent planet two system away.

The probe hasn’t responded to her queries, its receiver must’ve been damaged during its entry into the atmosphere; she’ll have to run a diagnostic when the preprogrammed fight brings it back to her workshop. If it manages to come back, she muses. Finally, she receives a response from the probe, accessing the flight data through her neural HUD she sees that the ETA wouldn’t be for another half hour. Relieved, she leans back in her chair and takes one last pull. She takes eyedrops to wash away the redness.

Life on Jolliffe has certainly seen better days. Established as a fueling depot during the great first wave of interstellar colonialism, it experienced a gold rush of colonial flotillas, cargo vessels and traders as it acted as sort of frontier post, but as the allure of the second space race died away as the cost of colonizing planets away from the core systems became too great for governments and corporations, they haven’t received many visitors from out-system, especially those from the core worlds. Due to its newfound level of isolation and its dependence on the in-system H-congruous planets to sustain itself, Jolliffe has now found itself in an economic slump. Most people have a coping mechanism staying in a generally awful place, her’s happens to be weed.

She tries looking at the onboard camera footage, but around 13:00 is when it starts to fuzz out entirely. The only thing left is the audio recordings, she filters out the sound of the planet’s howling torrents and listens carefully. Three seconds later she was stunned as the silence was broken by the sound of twisting metal; it was like something was curling its away along the teardrop shaped fuselage, squeezing tighter and tighter the further it went up its length. The noise was deafening, but as she was about to lower the volume, she blasted by this horrifying new sound. It was like a long, pained exhale, but amplified to the billionth degree, as if the universe was screaming into her very being. Her auditory senses were bombarded by this stimulus for what felt like hours; she couldn’t stand up straight, as she fell into the fetal position. Yet what’s even more shocking is that she didn’t feel any pain when hearing this bizarre signal, if anything she felt that she was being knitted into the fabric of the universe itself, like she can skate across the starfields for eternity as a post-physical entity, looking down on time as a flat circle. In comparison, her fellow humans seemed like specks of dust to this state of being. For that brief instant, she was the alpha and the omega, as brief glimpses of the universe’s genesis played across her mind, from the big bang to the evolution of biota both terran and alien.

When it was over, she was laying on the floor in a puddle of her own urine. She was born again, enlightened in ways those corporate gurus on the core worlds could only dream of. Even the church would be envious of her, for she knows for certain, she heard the voice of God….

*

Since the old reverend was a boy, Briar Tennings had detested the idea of crossing the black star gulf. Not that he was afraid, he hated what the idea of interstellar travel has done to God’s children. He felt that though at one point it was a necessary evil for the survival of mankind, it came at a cost; the space race has inspired generation upon generation with this notion that if things are not going that well, they can just simply leave everything and everyone behind in search of a new home to reset their lives. Naturally, this has turned space into a breeding ground for young wastrels, when they realize too late that this new age frontier life isn’t as easy or glamourous as the sci-fi melodramas make it seem. These lost children had fallen into a void of sin, as they either get shanghaied or enlist out of desperation with the worst the galaxy has to offer. Pirates, smugglers, the cartels, and worst of all, the cults.

There have been many instances of cults being born out of the colonies, usually formed from scraps of doctrines and scriptures from various religions combined with that of their own which they devised from “spiritual” observations of the alien worlds. For the most part they’re benign and their practices fall within the reams of human decency, but sometimes one spreads like the plague that indulges in perversions not even the sickest minds on Earth can dream up.

Which brings us to today, where him and an investigator from the Intergalactic Crime Bureau are being tasked with looking at a new cult that’s sprung up only a year ago, but has poised itself to become the now dominant religion aboard Joliffe station, The Listeners. Briar is here on behalf of the Church to see if there’s any validity to the absurd doctrine of this new cult, while the investigator is here undercover as his assistant to investigate a disappearance of someone named Chazz Wilson- a Listener with a degree in astro-engineering, missing since a week before some grand event that’s supposed to take place today.

The shuttle begins its docking procedures before entering the bay; fueling, water and waste disposal umbilicals snake their way out of recesses and plug into the underside of the fuselage. Reverend nudges the investigators shoulders, he’d fallen sleep during the last few hours of the trip.

‘Wha-? We’re here…please tell me we’re here,’ the agent moaned groggily.

‘Yes son, we’ve arrived,’ Briar said.

‘Well it’s about time…. God, spacetravel gives you jet lag like you wouldn’t fucking believe.’

‘Please don’t tell me that’s the level of decorum you’re going to display in front of these lunatics.’

‘Relax, Father,’ he said acidly, ‘you don’t have to worry about me fucking up on my end, I’ll be too busy being out of sight and out of mind to entertain the cultists’ fantasies, that’s your job remember?’ ‘Yes, I remember…. let’s just get this over with.’

*

Sally Fitzroy had asked to meet Briar on the observation deck, she was dressed in a sleek grey business suit, her hair pulled back into a neat bun. Her eyes were permanently yellowed from years of narcotic usage, Tennings noted; not at all surprising, its alarming how many of these cults have been dreamed up from the delusions of former and current addicts. Both him and the agent noticed an air of jubilee when they made their way here. Odd that they would arrange this meeting today then, surely this is cutting it close to whatever they have planned.

‘It’s an honor to meet face to face with representatives of the Lord’s word….’ Sally said cheerfully.

‘Well thank you, that’s very kind of you,’ Briar responds as enthusiastically as he can.

‘Yes…especially considering you’re here to test whether or not our religion is a pack of lies,’ Sally presses mockingly. Briar smiles nervously to hide his chagrin. ‘I jest of course,’ Sally chortles.

‘Yes, well, Dmitri…why don’t you wait back at the ship, this shouldn’t take long…’ Briar says, desperate not to let his chagrin reveal itself. The agent gets up and leaves unceremoniously, as Sally watches him leave with this odd look in her eyes.

‘So,’ Briar presses, ‘where exactly do you want us to conduct this assessment?’

‘Right here is fine,’ Sally answers.

‘Ah, but you see my dear, I don’t have a neural HUD, so it’s impossible for you to simply send a private audio file to me.’

‘Father, I thought it was a sin to lie…’

Tennings face turned several shades of grey right then.

‘My dear,’ he says levelly, ‘I have no idea what you’re…’

‘Please father,’ she cuts him off brazenly, ‘let’s not play this game, our biometric scanners pegged you and the spook the minute you flew through the shuttle bay….’

‘Oh,’ he said nervously. ‘Must’ve slipped my mind…. I don’t know which spook you’re referring to, but if your talking about Dmitri I feel you are mistaken. Poor boy can’t even carry my bags without stumbling over himself.’

‘Odd then that he has ocular implants, one might say certain authorities would find a person with that kind of hardware very useful to relay covert info back to wherever the nearest HQ is.’ ‘That is if he is a spook.’

‘I know what he’s looking for, well I’ll save you guys the trouble. Yes, we killed Chazz Wilson…we smothered him in his bed and flung his corpse into Astartes using a hollowed-out cloud-skimmer.’

Briar just stares slack jawed in horror at her. He tries pinging an alert to the agent out of desperation, but no response. Either he they’re scrambling their communications, or the agent’s already dead.

‘Are you going to kill us?’ he asks sheepishly.

‘No, you still need to bare witness, all of you doubters need to…it’s the only way to convince humanity of the undeniable truth of what we found here…of the salvation we wish to unleash.’

‘You’re insane, there’s nothing in that torrential hell-storm you morons fixate so much on. That noise? It could be just the noise of the cyclones, heavily glitched and distorted by the damage that drone sustained, nothing more.’

‘Oh, how wrong you are Reverend, I’ve been a mechanic for those blasted drones for years…If it was a glitch, I would be the first to know.’

Two cult members with boosted muscles drag out the agent by his shoulders, they punch him in the gut and restrain him to couch next to Tennings.

‘Ah excellent, now we have the camera to broadcast the occasion….’, Sally said.

‘Camera? You could just broadcast this signal to the other colonies if you wanted,’ the agent said, ‘oh wait, you tried that and they nearly fined you for disrupting space traffic.’

‘Oh, you poor soul,’ she says through a devilish grin, ‘humanity has already heard the voice of God. Now, it’s time for us to see his face.’ Just then, explosions rip their way through several parts of the structure at once. The muddy swirling ball grows larger and larger as the station begins tilting on its axis; everyone struggles to in mad dash for the exits, desperate to make their way to the nearest escape pods.

‘YOU IDIOT, YOU KILLED US ALL!’

‘Don’t be scared father. Fear is what drove poor Chazz away from us…let go of everything. Let yourself fall into God’s embrace.’

*

Chaugnar had to congratulate himself for that stunning ruse, even Nyralethotep would be impressed, if he wasn’t too busy playing with his food back on Earth. He’s been asleep a long time, trapped within the bowls of this accursed storm world, weakened and humiliated from his battle with the accursed race that imprisoned him in deathless dream, a fate shared by his poor nephew trapped deep within that accursed blue marbles’ oceans. Don’t worry nephew, when I arrive, I will free you and all of our other kin still locked in the space between spaces, and we will burn every trace of this pest from every corner of the galaxy. Thanks to the biota floating around in that ridiculous habitat of theirs, he has all the info he needs to find every hovel in which these cretins’ dwell. But first, there has been a centuries old hunger that needs to be satisfied, and this latest feast is about the fall fast into his lap…right on schedule.

[sirius-whoisleft]

au: royalty | what a prince and lover ought to be | r&s

Sirius Black, crown prince and extraordinarily irresponsible royal heir, gasped as he emerged from under the duvet cover, dramatically reveling in the return to fresh air. He wore nothing gold-or-bejeweled on his head at the moment; only a nest of long, dark hair that had been ruffled wild during his journey under the sheets.

In fact, Sirius wore nothing at all.

Against the pillows, similarly laid bare, was Remus Lupin, longtime ward of the Black family and the inheritor prince of a farther, smaller kingdom that had made the mistake—unintentionally or otherwise—of crossing King Orion in one of his fouler moods. 

Hostage was probably a more suitable word than ward, but it was all semantics in the end. 

Lover was the word Sirius preferred most, though it was only fit for whispering to Remus himself when the two of them were able to steal their secret moments alone. It had been Remus’s thighs that Sirius had been working his lips against beneath the covers, the finishing touches on a much longer stolen moment they’d been able to turn the evening into.

The sheets seemed to glow a too-bright, angelic white against the dark wood of the furniture; the lamps were set to half-lit and the suite of rooms spread far and wide, sinking off into shadow. Sirius pulled those sheets around himself—to get comfortable, not out of any vain attempt at modestly—then laid himself down astride Remus.

Sirius was still working to catch his breath but didn’t mind if the first thing he was able to breathe in again was Remus, wrapped in fresh linen. There was a sheen of sweat painted across his body, not unlike the morning dew that was hours away outside the castle walls. Sirius could feel that he wasn’t alone in that endeavor, as his torso brushed up against Remus’s and the two of them got comfortable; twin puzzle pieces.

It was dazzling, to think about how this had all turned out – especially compared to the way it had almost gone, instead. Not a year ago, Sirius was called back from his near-lifetime abroad to begin his real preparations for the crown, while Orion was healthy and still ruled with an iron enough fist to think he could rule his eldest son, too. Sirius had arrived weeks earlier than planned, determined not to miss his cousin Narcissa’s wedding and determined to see what kind of welcome he’d receive when there wasn’t time enough to plan a proper reception. 

Through the crowd, while the newly joined couple danced, Sirius hadn’t so much as had time to announce himself—wasn’t that supposed to be someone else’s job?—before his eyes landed on Remus. While everyone watched the dance, Sirius watched Remus. They had been playmates as children, in that golden age of time when Remus had just arrived and Sirius had not yet been sent away. But Sirius did not recognize Remus, just as Remus did not appear to recognize me.

Go and wait for me in my room, Sirius had walked up and said, no shame or innuendo about it.

There are too many rooms in this place, Remus had answered, instead of yes, instead of thank you.

Sirius wasn’t used to not having his demands granted, but he was grateful for the universe’s interference. This time, and this time only. He’d been thrown mercilessly off his game and, although he’d been able to put aside his frustration in the moment in favor of revealing himself and stealing Naricssa away from her awful new husband (a baron, Lucius) for a dance, the thoughts were harder to banish in the weeks that followed.

But now, look at them! Remus in his bed, not in the way Sirius had planned on. It was something better and, in a terrifying sort of way, more real. Not that he was brave enough to ask how real or how temporary or how reciprocal it was. He had his guesses, and if they were kinder to himself than the truth would be, Sirius was rather happy not knowing.

“You look nearly perfect,” Sirius remarked, his voice low with appreciation. And Remus did. Golden eyes and sandy hair streaked with hints of iron. Cheeks flushed and features sharp.

Sirius sat up again, swiftly, and leaned over Remus – again not bothering to feign modesty. Why should he? His body made no secret of the fact that it thrilled when his chest pressed against Remus’s (consequence of Sirius’s current reach, his hand outstretched to retrieve something from the nightstand across the way), so his face didn’t feel the need to hide it, either.

With a smile that meant victory, Sirius’s hand closed around something metal and hard with jewels.

His crown.

An unassumingly beautiful ringlet of gold dotted with rubies, it was said often how striking it was against Sirius’s black hair. Everyone who said that to him, Sirius had decided long ago, was stupid by design. Couldn’t they see how much better it would have blended with the yellow flecks of Prince Remus’s eyes, the life it might bring to his hollow cheeks?

Sirius got to see for himself, now.

With an air of reverence—for the symbolism of the crown and the boy in his bed both, neither which he could have faked—Sirius crowned Remus.

Crowned him, then took a long pause to drink in the sight. 

“Perfect,” he decided before laying back down; it was only seconds before the boys were intertwined again by their fingers, their arms, their ankles hooked together.

“Are you nervous?” Sirius asked, sounding almost nervous himself. “About tomorrow?”

Under the regulations that ruled Remus’s involuntary stay within the Black’s kingdom, his letters home were monitored; his parents were only ever allowed to visit sparingly, Queen Hope every five years and King Lyall by strict invitation only. The list of reasons that King Orion would ever invite another sovereign to his kingdom was short. Major trade deals, allies of war and pivotal royal events of state were pretty much it, meaning Remus might not see his own father again until Orion made some deal that involved marrying him off, or else conscripted him into the Black military and he was lucky enough to return home, medaled and honored with a package of land. In other words, the chances were slim.

The company escorting Queen Hope had written this morning that they expected their journey to take another day and a half. Come lunchtime tomorrow, Remus’s mother would be tucked within the castle walls, and given every comfort to trick her into believing her son was treated like family here, too.

“What is she like? Your mother.”

@remus-whoisleft​

#au: royal #whoisleftAUclosed #royal: remus1 #royal: remus all #chat: remus all

[karl-jenkins]

Things I love about: Jordan Bamford as Scorpius Malfoy

Jordan is the first cover Scorpius for London cast 3 and I’ve been lucky enough to see him seven times. He has become my favourite Scorpius and brought so many delightful touches and facets to Scorpius that have made me love him as a character even more. The keywords that come to mind when I think of Jordan as Scorpius are: endearing, excitable, sweet and brave.

 -        From the moment Albus meets Scorpius on the train, you love him instantly. His voice is soft and sweet, he is socially awkward in the most endearing way. He shakes Albus’ hand a bit too enthusiastically for a little too long, you can definitely see that he hasn’t been around children his own age very much and desperately wants to make friends. When he says he’d rather be a Malfoy than “the son of the Dark Lord” he growls and holds his hands like claws. He is just so likeable and the definition of “adorkable”.

-        During the flying class scene he is utterly delighted when his broomstick rises until he notices Albus’ is still on the ground. He forgets his own triumph immediately and moves to Albus’ side to reassure him and tell him not to listen to the teasing from the other kids. Right from the start he is a loyal, supportive friend.

-        The scene in which he tells Albus that Astoria’s illness has got “the worst it could possibly get” is heartbreaking. He is so quiet and subdued, and his voice breaks as he wipes away tears, he can’t even look at Albus until he asks him to come to the funeral.  He blurts this out as if worried that Albus will say no. Joe works perfectly with him in this scene, his Albus is so sincere and supportive and desperately wants to do anything that will help his friend.

-        On the Hogwarts Express when Albus asks about the Triwizard tournament, he’s so excited to be able to share his knowledge. When called a geek he gasps and gushes “I thank you” as if it’s the best compliment he’s ever received. When Albus wants to climb up onto the train roof, he tries to stop him by sitting down on the trunks to block his way up. Once Albus pulls him away and climbs up, he is so frustrated that he stamps his feet and shakes his fists as if he can’t quite believe what Albus is getting them into, but he still knows he will follow because he’s his best friend, however frustrating, and he won’t let him do it alone.

-        When the trolley witch spikes extend, Jordan shuffles right back into Albus’ lap in fear. Joe wraps his arms around him, Jordan holds his hands in front of his chest and they cling onto each other for dear life. This is one of the many times we see that Scorpius’ instinct when he is sad or scared is to go to Albus for comfort and physical reassurance.

-        In St. Oswald’s, Scorpius is so out of his comfort zone. He doesn’t quite know where to look, everything makes him jump. Once again, he goes to Albus for reassurance, holding onto his arm and staying as close to his side as possible. When Amos takes his wand out, he says “come on mate” with his arms fully wrapped around Albus as he tries to drag him away, out of danger.

-        When Albus and Delphi are practicing Expelliarmus, he looks so sad and conflicted as he watches on from the background. He likes to see Albus looking happy but he’s also feeling a little jealous and left out. After Delphi kisses Albus and then turns to leave, he fumbles with his Durmstrang robes, dropping them and having to quickly catch them and bundle them back up in his arms. As Delphi comes near, he offers her his cheek as if expecting a kiss too which she obviously ignores. He is so awkward around her and gets flustered and you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed for him. But, it really makes you feel for him and love him all the more.

-        He’s so funny in the dragon task scene. He speaks to Albus and gestures with his hands as if he’s trying to plan what he will say. This turns out to be “Krum, Krum, you’re the one!” when Krum’s name is announced as Durmstrang Champion.

-        His library scene is so intense. He’s usually so sweet and softly spoken that the sudden rush of anger is such a shock and has given me goosebumps every time. When he’d say “so Sad” he would get this hard, sarcastic edge to his voice and sounded completely different to his usual self. He would get right up in Albus’ face, to the point that sometimes Joe would back away from him fearfully. When he talked about Astoria still being dead in this new alternate reality I’ve seen him do it a couple of different ways – either so sad that his voice breaks or so angry that he can’t contain himself. I’ve seen him slam his hand down on the table and throw the time turner bag down onto it in his frustration. After he’s got everything off his chest, he clutches his hands over his face and just cries which I read as him being overwhelmed by his mixed feelings of anger, sadness and relief that his pent-up frustration has finally been aired. Also, as he usually goes to Albus for physical reassurance, but he can’t do that when it’s Albus that has caused him pain, he ends up clinging onto himself like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

-        In Myrtle’s bathroom, he is so proud of himself for the “engorgimpressed” line. When Myrtle leans close to him to say that she likes brave boys, he leans so far back in surprise that it looks like he might fall back out of the sink.

-        After he emerges from the lake and the dementors appear, his instinct is to cover his mouth. He’s just found himself in a completely different world to the one he expected; his best friend doesn’t exist, the darkest wizard in history is alive and he’s all alone and yet he keeps his head enough to cover his mouth when he sees a Dementor. For me, this self-preservation instinct is so very Slytherin and gives a good insight into how well he’ll be able to blend in and survive in this world.

-        In the dark AU with Draco in the Head of Magical Law Enforcement office what struck me was that he is so brave. After his initial shock to find his dad there and that his dad insists on being called sir, he becomes furious that his dad might be involved in killing muggles. He gets right up close to Draco, shouting and pointing in his face, incredibly brave considering this is not his Draco and this world could hold serious consequences for him. I’ve always found the fact that Scorpius only does the full Voldemort and Valour for Draco meaningful, but I’ve seen Jordan do it very slowly, full of significance which made that moment even more memorable for me by really highlighting the fact that that’s the only time he does it properly. On Sunday (12th May 2019), after leaving Draco’s office, he clutched his hands over his face and burst into tears, like he did after the library argument with Albus. Again, he doesn’t know what to do with all his conflicting feelings and Albus isn’t there to support and help him.

-        When he arrives in the library, he is frantic and desperate, feverishly searching for answers so that he can try to find out why this version of events came to be and how he can try to fix it. Scorpius is so sweet and endearing, it’s almost impossible to imagine him as the Scorpion King. Seeing Craig cower away from him is especially jarring when you’re so enchanted by this sweet boy.

-        When he asks Snape if he’s undercover now, he realises what he’s said and claps his hands over his mouth as if he wishes he could force the words back in. Snape feels like the answer to his problems and for a second he’s so excited that he gets a bit carried away and thinks before he speaks before remembering what a dangerous situation he’s in.

-        His lake scene is so funny that he’s got applause every time I’ve seen it. His voice becomes screechy with excitement, he loses all his composure in his pure delight. When he sees Harry, he screams, high pitched and unable to contain his excitement and relief to see him again. When he sees Draco and says, “and Dad,” he suddenly becomes much more composed – he seems slightly embarrassed, aware that he’s made a scene and Malfoys are not supposed to make a scene. But the way he says “my dad” is so sweet and meaningful; he’s so relieved to be back with the dad he knows and loves rather than the Head of Magical Law Enforcement who is complicit in such atrocities.

-        The scene in the dormitory is so funny. When he tries to wake Albus up, he leans out of his bed and nearly falls, having to put a hand out to catch himself. He is utterly giddy in this scene, so delighted to be back with his best friend, everything right with the world once again. For the “time to make time turning a thing of the past” line, he grabs Albus by the arm and pulls him over and delivers the line with their arms linked.

-        In the owlery, when Albus says it felt important to send an owl, Jordan mouthed “why?”. Another little moment of Scorpius’ jealousy; he’s got his best friend back and he wants him all to himself.

-        On the Quidditch Pitch, he is just so brave, strong and resilient. He stands steadfast despite being tortured. When Delphi pulls them over to turn time back to the maze task, he can’t stop looking at Craig’s body in disbelief.

-        The maze is another scene in which he is just so brave. He’s already been tortured, knows she’ll do it again, that she would eventually kill him. But he won’t give up, his voice is hard and determined when he tells her they can defy her. For the Crucio while he’s on the ground, he does a sort of shoulder stand and throws his legs up in the air. He looks a bit like a ragdoll being thrown around and I don’t know how he does it, but it is very effective.

-        In Godric’s Hollow, he is so excited to see Bathilda that he actually yells “SQUEAK!” in this squeaky excited voice. He’s giddy with pure nerdy delight and it’s absolutely adorable.

-        The hug with Draco in Godric’s Hollow is so heart-warming. Jordan’s Scorpius throws himself into Draco’s arms with such enthusiasm that both feet leave the ground and there is a chorus of “aww”s from the audience, sometimes even cheering and applause. It is a beautiful moment, one that is clearly so important to them both. After the hug, Draco keeps a hand on Scorpius’ shoulder, now they are back together, he doesn’t want to lose him again and wants to be able to feel his presence and believe that he really is there. Jordan holds onto his arm and cuddles in against Draco’s shoulder. It is a beautiful thing to witness between them and gives me so much hope for the future of their relationship.

-        On their final staircase scene, Scorpius is once again giddy with excitement, his squeaky screech of excitement coming out once again. He really thinks that Rose’s “Scorpion King” is a triumph and sinks contentedly back onto the stairs, fists raised in celebration. When Albus sits down on the stairs, Jordan sits on the next step down and Joe would rest his head on Jordan’s shoulder then Jordan would rest his head on top of Joe’s. It is such a sweet moment. When he leaves to go to Quidditch, he walks most of the way turning back to look at Albus, who stands on the stairs watching him leaves. Their eyes are locked until the last second, when Scorpius waves and finally turns away to leave. It felt like the perfect way to say goodbye to Scorpius.

Jordan has been an asset to the London company and a truly spectacular Scorpius. He is my favourite Scorpius and I will miss him greatly, but I am so grateful to have had seven shows in which to experience his sweet, soft, excitable, brave, funny, geeky and so damn lovable interpretation of Scorpius. His chemistry was Joe was perfect, they portrayed a Scorbus friendship that felt balanced and natural, they were jokey and tactile with each other and their friendship felt so real and like it had so much potential to blossom into more. It was truly a treat to watch them together.

#things i love about #jordan bamford #scorpius malfoy #thoughts and observations #ccsquad #understudy love club #first cover #cast 3 #cursed child london #i've been so nervous about posting this one #i just want to do him justice #there's probably more things that i've forgotten #sorry this is so long

[jarmes]

Birdcage Chapter XIII

Masterpost -  Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Mistakes, or: the story told at dinner

A few days after the night we stood waiting for Camazotz to attack, the Knights gathered at the palace to receive a speech from the king. Only the bare minimum Knights were left guarding the wall. The Squads stood in lines in front of the castle. Our line was the shortest.

King Tasciovanus walked out onto a balcony overlooking the crowd. His two retainers, Johnson and Reynolds, stood behind him. The Knights bowed when we saw our King. He smiled and began his speech.

“A few nights ago marked the tenth anniversary of the great purge,” he said in a hollow voice. “Each and every one of you, I would wager, lost someone on that fateful day. I personally lost my dear wife Dietlinde. Our hearts, torn asunder by that fateful day, have beaten as one ever since.”

“We have spent much of the past decade cowering in fear, waiting for the next evil to threaten our great Kingdom,” the King continued. “Many of us feared the return of the vampire wars. But, the anniversary of his latest death passed without incident. Allies of ours in the Southern Seas have confirmed that the fortress on Mist Spire Island is empty. The Vampire King is dead, for good this time. Now we can start to move on.”

The King stepped back, and Firebrand Johnson took his place. “Okay, here’s the deal,” Johnson said as he took the stage. “After the Abrumian Crusade, we decided realized we didn’t have enough manpower to survive another large scale military operation. We’ve spent the last six years hidden behind these walls, stockpiling men and resources. In doing so, we made ensured Cieleta would survive in the event the Vampire King returned.”

“Holding back has come with its own problems,” Firebrand continued. “The treasury is nearly empty. Worse, we still haven’t reclaimed any of the land lost in the Purge. We don’t have enough farmland to provide for our citizens, and have been forced to buy food from other nations. At first, this wasn’t an issue; but, like I said, the treasury is empty now. We estimate that we can survive for another six months before we run out of food. Now that we know we Camazotz isn’t going to be a problem, we can use our military might to fix this problem”

“Enter the Reclamation Project, a plan to begin reclaiming the world outside these walls. Our first target is Stonecage, a mining town on the border of the Naitumon Mountains. The tunnels beneath Stonecage are rich in gold, iron, magic crystals, things that can save Cieleta. If we can reclaim Stonecage and set up a safe route between it and the Capital, our troubles will be over.”

“We’re sending a large expedition team, comprised of approximately half of the Knights, to Stonecage in three weeks. Captains will be informed in advance if their Squads will be needed. Preparations will begin immediately.”

We discussed development as soon as we returned to the barracks. “A journey outside the wall, to reclaim a fallen city and save the Kingdom,” Cas said. “It sounds-”

“Insanely dangerous,” Pollux interjected.

“I was going to say exciting, but I guess you aren’t wrong.”

“I’m not too worried about the Reclamation Project,” Sterling said. “Lest you forget, we’re considered by many to be the weakest Squad. Someone has to stay behind and handle wall duty. Don’t be surprised when that’s us.”

“We aren’t that pathetic,” I said. “We managed to put up a pretty good fight against that Eric guy.”

“Correction, we managed to survive long enough to watch that Eric guy run away,” Sterling said.

I strapped my sword to my back, preparing for a shift guarding the gate. “Hey Ernest, you up for a round of sparring tonight?” Pollux asked.

“Can’t. I have dinner with my grandfather once a month. Otherwise, he worries,” I said.

“Your grandfather, the vampire slayer?” Cas asked.

I shrugged. “I guess,” I said.

“It must be awesome, having someone so cool as a grandpa,” Cas said. “I bet he tells you all sort of cool stories.”

I rolled my eyes. “There’s a finite amount of stories Grandfather knows. I lived with him for ten years. It gets old after a while,” I said.

“Poor you, having a loving family member who wants to spend time with you,” Pollux snarked. “It sounds unbelievably horrible.”

“If you want, you guys can come along and meet him for yourself,” I said.

“I’d love to!” Cas said.

“Don’t be so intrusive,” Pollux shouted while elbowing in his brother in the ribs. “Ernest deserves to spend time alone with his family if he wants to.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to come,” Cas shot back.

“I mean, I do, but I’m not going to be pushy about it,” Pollux muttered.

“Really, it isn’t any trouble,” I said. “Sterling, do you want to come?”

“I mean, if everyone else is going, I suppose I could stop by,” he said.

That evening, the four of us showed up at Grandfather’s house. Anna answered the door. She eyed us over for a minute before turning and shouting. “Grandpa, Ernest and his friends are here!” she yelled.

“Distract our guests for a few minutes while I finish dinner!” Grandpa shouted back.

Anna stood in the doorway, not moving or saying anything. “I’m, uh, Castor,” Cas said. “It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Anna,” she replied.

“Can we come in?” Pollux asked.

“I don’t know, can you?” Anna asked.

I shoved past Anna, leading my friends into my old home. “Welcome to our house,” I said. “It isn’t much, but it’s home.”

Pollux and Castor looked side, at walls covered in hanging paintings of monsters. “Interesting interior decorating,” Pollux muttered.

“Grandpa paints a lot,” Ernest said. “It helps him with his nightmares.”

“Speaking of nightmares,” Anna said. “Ernest used to-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” I shouted.

“Ernest used to get really bad nightmares,” Anna said. “Like, wake up with soaking sheets every night level of bad nightmares.”

“Anna, you’re embarrassing me,” I muttered.

A few minutes later, Grandfather came out with several dishes full of food and a large bottle of ale. “Sorry if there isn’t enough food for you boys,” he said. “The prices have been a bit high recently.”

“It’s more than enough, sir,” Cas said.

We all sat down and dug into the food. Anna ate in her room. “Now, I know Ernest pretty well and I met MacDonald a few months ago, but I haven’t been properly introduced to you two,” Grandfather said while taking a sip of ale.

“I’m Pollux and my brother’s Cas,” Pollux said.

“I thought you two looked alike,” Grandfather said. “How do you like being a part of Squad V?”

“It’s great, sir,” Cas said.

“You know, I was the Captain of Squad V for a number of years. I could tell you a few stories from the good old days, if you’d like.”

“We would like that very much, sir.”

“Okay, here’s a good one for you,” Grandfather said, beginning a story I’d heard a dozen times before. “My Squad and I were traveling between the islands surrounding the Vampire King’s base, Mist Spire Island, when a magical fog surrounded our boat. We couldn’t see five feet in front of us. That’s when it struck.”

“A large bat-like creature, with massive black wings and pointed teeth, descended on our boat, picking us off one by one,” Grandfather continued. “Calvin did his best to keep us safe, but it wasn’t enough. The beast with too quick, and the fog kept us from seeing it as it flew by.”

“What did you do?” Cas asked.

“I closed my eyes and waited. As the beast drew close, I heard the sound its wings made as it glided through the air. With a single swing, I cleaved the beast in two, saving my Squad.”

“Wow, you’re so cool, Mr. Zuckerman,” Cas said. “I hope I can be like you when I’m older.”

“Don’t worry, kid, your story is just beginning. I’m sure there’re great things in your future” Grandfather said. “For example, I heard that Calvin hired you two after you helped Ernest and MacDonald fight off a dark mage.”

“I mean, Ernest and Sterling did most of the work,” Cas said.

Shortly afterward, we heard a knock on the door. We opened it to find Captain Cross, with a dark look on his face. “Hello Jim, might I come in and talk to my Squad?” Cross asked.

“Of course, Calvin. Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Grandfather said.

“I can stay, but I’m afraid I may ruin your meal with bad news,” Cross said. “I just finished up a meeting with the other officers about the Reclamation Project.”

“So, are we going to Stonecage?” Pollux asked.

“Firebrand Johnson requested that I personally go along, due to the defensive capabilities of my verse, while you four stay here and continue watching the gate,” Cross said. “Of course, I told them that I didn’t feel comfortable leaving my Squad alone, especially after what happened eight months ago.”

“So we aren’t going to Stonecage?” Pollux asked.

“Well, the thing is, Firebrand may have misinterpreted my request,” Cross said. “He decided to send all four of us to Stonecage.”

The reaction to this was mixed. Excitement from me and Cas, worry from Cross and Pollux, and a mix from Grandfather. Sterling stayed silent. “Don’t worry, James, I’ll ensure that these boys stay safe during the Stonecage mission,” Cross said. “Ernest, Castor, Pollux, and Sterling are under my protection.”

“Sterling, that’s MacDonald, right?” Grandfather asked. “You know, I must’ve heard someone call him Sterling sometime before now, but it only just clicked in my head. Your name is Sterling MacDonald, isn’t it?”

“It is, sir,” Sterling muttered.

“I’ve heard of a knight named Sterling MacDonald. You wouldn’t happen to be him, would you?” Grandfather asked.

“Depends on which Sterling MacDonald you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the one that received a lot of attention ten years ago. The one that became a Captain at the age of nineteen.”

“Wait, Sterling was a Captain?” Cas asked.

“Are you the Sterling MacDonald I’m thinking of?” Grandfather asked.

“I am,” Sterling said quietly.

“I thought so. You’re the infamous traitor, aren’t you?” Grandfather said.

“That’s quite enough, James,” Cross said.

“What’s he talking about, Sterling?” Cas asked. “What does he mean, the infamous traitor?”

“If you’d stop interrupting, maybe we’d find out,” Pollux said.

Sterling stood up. “I think it would be best if I left, Mr. Zuckerman,” he said. “Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

“Sterling, wait,” I said.

Sterling walked away, ignoring me. The door slammed behind him. I turned back to Grandfather. “What was that?” I asked.

“Your friend never told you about his past, did he?” Grandfather asked.

“I don’t care about his past,” I said. “Sterling’s my friend. He’s saved my life on multiple occasions.”

“Doesn’t really wipe away the people he doomed though, does it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you know a lot about the Purge, Ernest. Did you ever hear about the Dark Duo’s inside man who helped them pull it off? What if I were to tell you that Sterling was that inside man?”

Cross slammed his fist down on the table. “That is enough, Jim,” he said. “If you have problems with MacDonald, take them up with me. I hired him because I trust him and know he’s a good man. I don’t know what kind of rumors you’ve heard, but I assure you, they’re false.”

Grandfather glanced at his bottle of ale and sighed. “Maybe I’ve had a little too much to drink,” he muttered.

I left after that. I found Sterling sitting on top of the wall, looking out over the empty plains. “Hey,” I said as I climbed up.

“Hey,” Sterling said.

“When we first met, you said that you made some mistakes when you were younger and ruined your reputation,” I said.

Sterling sighed. “It’s a long story,” he said.

“I’ve got time.”

Sterling looked at the night sky for a moment. “It’s a full moon tonight,” he said. “That’s funny. It was a full moon on the night before the Purge, too.”

“Grandfather said you were responsible for the Purge. Is that true?”

“The magic, the planning, the execution, I wasn’t a part of that. But I played my roll in it, I suppose.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“The purge didn’t begin as a hurricane. It started with the flapping of a single butterfly’s wings, that grew into a nightmare. The King’s dead wife, Dietlinde, she belonged to a bloodline containing powerful magic. Black and Darkholme sacrificed her to begin the Purge.”

“And your role in all this?”

“Back then, I was a novice Captain. The queen was doing a tour of the Kingdom, visiting various villages damaged by the raids. My Squad was put in charge of guarding her. The night before the Purge, a mercenary hired by Darkhomle attacked us on the open road. I was the only member of my Squad he spared.”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

“After the Purge, the King didn’t take kindly to my survival,” Sterling said. “A lot of people thought I betrayed the Knights, that my survival was a gift from Darkholme for my cooperation. The King wanted to execute me for my crimes. Calvin, an old friend of mine, stopped him.”

“Did you betray the Knights?”

“Do you count failure as an act of betrayal?”

I placed my hand on Sterling’s. “Do you remember what I told you, when we woke up in the hospital? I told you that I’d help you restore your reputation,” I said. “I’m not about to break that pact because of a few mistakes.”

“You’re a good man, Ernest. You deserve better than me.”

#writing #fantasy

[livingmybestfictionallife]

As I See It, Yes --Chapter Two

Catch up here 

I walked through the house at what felt like either really late at night or very early in the morning. My blanket was wrapped around my body and I held it so tight my knuckles were white. I made my way through the living room to the bathroom, hoping no one was there. I couldn’t remember why I was headed there I just needed to hurry…maybe I was going to be sick or something, I don’t know. I tried to run past the guys who were hanging around the living room when the blanket snagged on the corner of a table and fell off. Devastated, I stood in front of them almost completely naked. Only a bra and a pair of underwear blocked their eyes from the rest of my body. I watched their eyes trail me as I had seen them do countless other girls. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as the tears began to well in my eyes. I watched as the eruption of laughter spread from one person to another. I knew what they were seeing and it wasn’t the beauty anyone thought I should have. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.

I retrieve the blanket and make a dash to the bathroom, locked myself inside, and wrapped myself in the blanket, crying the type of cry that leaves you rocking and heaving while not being able to make any noise. Wrenching back and forth, feeling the hot tears streak down my face, feeling sicker than ever—stomach lurching and twisting into knots—and I knew that regardless of any attempts, the feeling would not go away.

I woke up in a cold sweat too early with the help of thunder. My t-shirt clung to my back, but I didn’t mind. It was a reminder of the fear I held on to; being afraid meant feeling something, and I was at a point where it didn’t matter whether the feeling was bad or good—I hung onto anything that was an emotion. After Mom and Dad died I became too talented at numbing myself from the world. I was already pretty good at it, but Dad always knew something was up and Mom could always get me talking.

Sometimes it didn’t seem like Mom and Dad’s death really affected my brothers the way it affects me daily. I already had problems trusting people, but after I lost them, I couldn’t trust anyone. My secrets, my thoughts, my wishes, fears, ideas, fantasies, everything was something I shared with my Mom. She would smile and tell me how she had thought the same things when she was my age and assure me that I wasn’t being too much of a dreamer or living too high above the earth. She encouraged me that my head could be in the clouds as long as I knew the difference between my perception of life and reality. When she died, the temporary ownership I had in the clouds disappeared. I fell from the sky and crashed into reality; I shut myself off from everything. It’s strange to think their deaths lead me to very slowly accommodating the trust of the biggest delinquent in town. I still couldn’t understand how I’d gotten close to Dallas Winston of all people, but then again, Mom always did like Dallas. I thought she was crazy for trusting him, for letting him stay in our house for a solid eight months rather than have him bounce around. I remember asking her if she were ever scared Dally would pull the wool over her and Dad’s eyes. She only shook her head and looked down at me and said, “If everyone were afraid of you that would be a sad kind of life.” I think it was then that I decided to look past the exterior and try to analyze people to see what they’re really like.

I buried the nightmare in my mind and tried to roll over and get some more sleep but failed. My insomnia was back and I was just as miserable as ever. I could tell the guys had noticed the subtle changes that accompanies my not sleeping: blank stares, dark circles under my eyes, slight twitching, a hollowed expression, and a fiery rage of frustration from being exhausted yet not being able to sleep. For what would no doubt not be the last time, I did my best to shove the exhaustion from my face and pulled the covers off my body. I couldn’t fight the anger that lack of sleep caused me to slip into, and as soon as my feet hit the carpet, I turned to punch the bedframe when I remembered that everyone else was still sleeping. I relaxed my fist but not my anger as I slipped on some of Ponyboy’s track pants and one of Darry’s old football shirts that I cut to not swallow my body so much. After I laced the hand-me-down converse I got from Soda onto my feet, I crept through the house, careful to pace past Dally without waking him and started jogging in the rain.

It had to be around five in the morning and the darkness that covered the sky was beginning to shift from black to a dark grey as the sun began to creep into the sky behind the thick storm clouds that lingered above me. Aside from it being too early for most people to be awake, the rain was another factor protecting me from dealing with Socs, but I couldn’t exactly rule out accidentally running into other greasers, hoods, or whatever white trash rednecks were crawling home right now after being out partying all night. I didn’t intend to run the half-mile down to the vacant lot the gang used to play football in, but that was as far as I made it before I decided to turn around and head home. The rain was letting up and I knew if I kept going I wouldn’t be home in time to stick to my brothers’ rule of the first to wake up cooks breakfast.

The lot seemed empty, but it always appeared that way at first glance. More times than not, a boy with the blackest hair you’ll ever see the tannest skin, and the kindest eyes in the world would be out here, lying under newspapers and leaves to keep warm. During the summer, he’ll lay out his denim jacket to provide comfort as he slept on the pavement, and if he didn’t feel too safe on the ground, he’d tie himself in a tree and sleep. As hard as it is to believe, this boy, Johnny Cade, was much safer out here in the lot than he’d ever be in his own house. I was glad to see he wasn’t there—I would have felt even worse had he stayed out in the storm all night and not come over.

Johnny was apart of our gang and much like Ponyboy he’s awfully quiet. He used to not be as hesitant to join in conversations but after being beaten at home and getting jumped a month or so ago, he’s built up more walls. Everyone in the gang who had the means has offered for him to stay at their place more than once, but poor Johnny doesn’t have the heart to crash on someone’s couch for more than a night or two in a row. I’d always liked Johnny; he and I had a similar understanding with the way the world works.

My run ended a block or two away from my house when I saw the familiar tufts of black hair against the hem of a black t-shirt and rusty sideburns pale arms stretching out from a cut off grey t-shirt. I jogged up to the pair, stopped in the middle of the boys, and draped my arms across each of their shoulders.

“Hey there, Johnny, Two-Bit” I called out as their heads spun to see who was falling on them.

“What are you doing outside so early?” Two-Bit asked.

“I could ask you the same,” I smirked in return.

“Still not sleeping?” Johnny asked and I slipped my arms from their frames. I felt my heart grow warm at the sense of understanding Johnny exhibited. He knew more about dealing with shit like insomnia than I did, apparently he had it pretty bad when he was a kid and even admitted to me he thought there was some sort of psychological link to not sleeping and a traumatic past event.

“Obviously not well enough,” I muttered. “So I decided to go for a run.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” Two-Bit asked rather obliviously. “Did the storm keep you up?”

“No, I was reading to Pony and Soda, Darry came home real late, then there was another ordeal,” I sighed, “but guess what! Dal’s out of the cooler.”

“Let me guess, good behavior?” Two-Bit snickered. I nodded and it turned into a laugh as we turned and entered my yard through the small, chain-link gate out front.

I left the main door open and closed the screen door, letting in the fresh, rain scented air. Dallas was still asleep with one arm draped over the back of the couch and the other stretched across the coffee table, Soda was walking through the halls in his underwear looking for a towel, and Ponyboy and Darry were still asleep. I knew it would be a matter of time between Steve made his way into the mix, so I trudged into the kitchen only to have Soda follow me.

“You’re here early,” he muttered toward Two-Bit and offered a ‘good morning’ to Johnny before turning to me. “Hey, Austin, where are the towels? Did Darry wash them yet?” I shook my head.

“Just use mine, I used it last night so it should be dry by now,” I said while laying bacon out across the frying pan and getting another frying pan out to start making pancakes. Soda ran back to the bathroom and hollered a ‘thanks’ back to me while I was being popped and scalded by bacon grease. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I hissed as grease attacked me and stung the skin covering my ribs after I jumped and raised my arms, temporarily exposing my abdomen.

“Thank you for starting breakfast, Austin,” I heard Darry say behind me as he stepped in and started to take over my cooking.

“No problem,” I sighed but managed to pull my older brother aside. “We’re almost out of groceries and we just went shopping; we can’t afford to keep doing this,” I whispered.

“What would Mom and Dad do?” Darry questioned while narrowing his eyes at me. I bit my tongue and kept myself from saying what I was thinking, of telling him the truth: Mom and Dad aren’t here. I noticed Johnny in the corner pouring either milk or juice for everyone and was thankful for his help. Darry wandered out of the kitchen and I heard a thud followed by a groan, which I could only assume was him knocking Dally’s legs from the couch and forcing him to wake up. The screen door opened and closed, signaling Sodapop’s best friend, Steve Randle had arrived, and I watched as Ponyboy dragged himself into the kitchen, obviously as exhausted as I was.

“Come on everyone, breakfast is ready,” Darry called as he walked back into the living room from waking up Ponyboy after watching me flip one of the last batches of pancakes. The boys rushed the kitchen like they hadn’t eaten in weeks and I took this as my only opportunity to get ready for the day. I hurried to my room and grabbed the only clothes I had: a pair of hand-me-down jeans from Sodapop that I had cut into shorts and a plain white t-shirt that used to belong to Ponyboy. With these in my hands, I rushed into the bathroom and took a quick shower to rinse off rainwater that had dried to me. Upon opening the cabinet beneath the sink, I found the fresh towels Sodapop had so poorly been searching for. I dried off quickly, wrapped my hair in the towel, applied minimal make-up, dark lipstick, and tried to get out the front door without anyone seeing me. I failed.

“Hey, Austin, where are you going?” Ponyboy asked as I cut through the living room.

“I’m going to work,” I slurred.

“But the antique shop is closed,” Soda said through a mouthful of food.

“They are, but this is the library,” I said. “They need me to come in today. We got a huge donation and our shipment came in so I have to put a lot of new books into the system and check in what yesterday’s shift didn’t.” I was getting bored of listening to myself drone on and on with pointless and tedious jobs I have to do in the next few hours.

“Oh, well have a good day,” Darry dismissed me, but Ponyboy was up and met me at the door.

“Austin, what are you doing this afternoon?” I shrugged.

“Nothing. I get off at one thirty, how come?”

“Want to go see a movie with me?” Pony loved going to the movies but he hated going with the gang. Soda couldn’t sit still through them, Two-Bit and Steve never seemed to like them, Dallas never paid attention, and Johnny and Darry always found something better to do. I knew he liked going to the movies to me because we were similar—we liked books, movies, and music—and he knew I hated saying ‘no’ to him. He’s my youngest brother and he knows I’d do anything for him.

“What movie?” I asked as he stood beside me at the door, holding a full plate of food in his hands.

“The Hustler,” his voice was becoming softer as the guys started coming into the living room.

“Sure thing, little brother,” I said while hugging him, stealing a pancake from his plate, and then hurrying out the door after saying good-byes only to be stopped on the front porch by Dallas who snatched my keys from my hands.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he interrogated me.

“I already answered that question Dallas,” I snapped while lunging for my keys. “Come on, Dal, give them back!”

“Let me drive you,” he stated and jammed the key into the door to unlock the car.

“Why?” I asked suspiciously while raising an eyebrow.

“Because I’m headed that way anyways.” My keys were twirling around his finger and I made another failed attempt to grab them.

“You’re headed toward the library?” I asked again while folding my arms.

“Yes, I am for your information. There’s a record store down there I was going to check out.” I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“I’ll drive you, just give me the keys,” I offered.

“And what kind of gentleman lets a woman drive for him?” I could hear his dry sarcasm rolling through my ears.

“The kind who understands that if he doesn’t listen to me, he will lose his manhood,” I threatened but all he did was shrug and saunter off to the passenger side door, held it open, and cocked an eyebrow, motioning for me to get in. My shoulders slumped and I dropped my weight from one step to the other dramatically until my feet hit the gravel and grass, and then I dragged my feet all the way to the car so he could fully understand my reluctance of letting him drive.

“Oh boo hoo, you get a free ride to work from a nice guy, what’s so horrible about that,” he groaned.

“Will the nice guy be joining us?” I sneered. He rolled his eyes and put the car in reverse then floored it down the street. The ride was quiet and for the most part, we listened to the tread of the tires on the road. I stuck my hand out the window and felt the air rush past it, feeling free if only for a moment, as I travel from point A to point B, from housework and to real work to help provide for my brothers.

“What are you doing for lunch?” his question was sudden and unexpected.

“Uh, I don’t know, probably nothing,” I said as I pulled my arm inside and cranked up the window. Dallas pulled into the parking lot outside of the town library and switched off the engine before he turned to face me for the first time since leaving the house.

“Well then, I’ll come back around noon or something with some Dairy Queen if that’s alright.” I felt my eyes narrow but my lips curled into a light, genuine smile and I nodded.

“Thanks, Dallas,” I sighed as he tossed me my keys.

“Sure thing, Austin.” I watched him walk off down the covered portion of sidewalk, past all of the shops and around the corner before opening the door to the library.

It was a small building, but size didn’t really matter when I got to work surrounded by books. The stories and adventures that a strange combination of the same twenty-six letters can take you on are beyond incredible and offered everyone who entered the building an escape. I had been working as a volunteer for a year and a half before my parents passed away. The head librarian decided since I was such a great employee she would see if I could be paid for my work. I was extremely grateful for the news after everything happened, but it didn’t keep me from piling more jobs onto my busy schedule.

“Good morning, Austin, I suppose you’ll be finishing up with the inventory,” I heard from behind the desk. Alison McGregor was sitting there with her perfectly curled brown hair, her plump red lips, big brown eyes, and pale blue dress that billowed around her knees as she sat in the chair. I couldn’t stand Alison; she was the type of girl that made other girls feel bad about themselves by just looking at her—as if any average person couldn’t compare to whatever overrated beauty she exuberated. To make matters worse, she acted like some hotshot that knew more than anyone else and knew what was best for everyone else. I opened my mouth to reply with something even snarkier than her comment but quickly shut it when I heard the door ding closed behind me.

“No, she will not. I gave you that task,” I heard while stepping aside and making room for our boss, Karen. “Austin is going to host story time for children while I take care of the women’s book club.” I passed Alison a venomous smirk but let it fade before Karen caught me. She liked me a lot despite knowing I had the tendency to revert into being a sarcastic asshole, but at least I get my work done.

Karen went into her makeshift office: a closet space that was extended by a few feet and had a desk put in. We were welcome to store whatever belongings we brought to work in Karen’s office, but after being around guys for the majority of my life, certain things like carrying purses were too girly and got in the way of doing fun things with my friends—imagine playing tackle football in a skirt. As Alison disappeared with Karen to put her bag away, I tried to make myself busy enough to avoid my annoying co-worker. Apparently it didn’t matter whether I was trying to ignore her or not; upon returning to the front desk, Alison stared disapprovingly at me and I thinned my lips in a dismissive manner while rolling my eyes and looking in the opposite direction. Alison McGregor was a Soc if I ever saw one. I knew it was only fair that the public library sat between greaser and Soc territories, but I hated it because people like her felt the need to waltz in and act like they own the place, like they have a monopoly on books, free thinking, and self expression. More times than I’d like to admit Socs barge in and wander through the shelves for anywhere close to half an hour with no intention of checking a book out. If a greaser did that, we’d be kicked out of the store within a few minutes, but because they’re Socs and they have money, no one would expect them of stealing anything. I knew I was guilty of making generalizations about Socs, but Alison fit the generalized statement that Socs wake up and expect the world to bow at their feet.

For the first few hours of my shift, I’d been able to avoid all contact with Alison, and I was beginning to think it was because of Karen’s firm hand, but when eleven rolled around, a group of Socs I recognized from school came in and I knew this was what Alison was holding out for. The group consisted of a mixture of recent graduates, like me, and in coming seniors, the same as Alison. The pack of teenage boys walked up to the front desk and started talking to Alison, probably just giving her an excuse to stop working for a moment or to and invite her to some pointless party on the river bottom. During the summer months, Socs had nothing better to do than throw parties and get drunk, so it didn’t surprise me they were already planning their evening activities. I looked over to the front desk and could see Alison was falling for the flirtatious bullshit the guys were dishing out but it was clear they didn’t care if she came or not.

I could tell they didn’t really like her and that it wasn’t her attention they were craving. Everyone at school knew Alison McGregor was easy to get and that she’d put out for anyone. It may be a bit hypocritical for me to hate the way guys think, especially considering how aware of the shit boys do to get into a girl’s pants because of who my friends were, but nothing made me sicker than the stupid game guys made girls out to be. It’s either they’re tired of putting in too much effort for a one night stand, of they get tired of not having to chase after a girl to get her to sleep with them.

“Hello? Grease! I’m talking to you,” one of them snapped at me as I sat at a small table, trying to read.

“Don’t waste your time on her, Lawrence,” Alison said softly in a faux, overly feminine tone.

“Sorry,” I hissed while trying to read the same sentence of my book over for the twelfth time, “I didn’t know you were talking to me considering ‘Grease’ isn’t my name.”

“Whatever your name is, what do you think? Beer blast at the river bottom tonight?” He leaned over on the counter, pushing his hips into the side of it.

A few years ago, when I started going through the changes all girls experience, I didn’t understood why my brothers had gotten more protective of me, and especially why they started threatening other people in the gang. As I got older, I became significantly less ignorant to the way heads turned when I showed up. I didn’t see myself as the type to make heads turn, but considering most of my friends and my friends’ friends were guys, after puberty, it was difficult to be seen as one of the guys, and it lead to Pony, Soda, and Darry threatening the gang, and the gang threatening anyone else that looked at me with shifty eyes.

“No,” was all I said in response. I hated being hit on and the fact that it was some douchey Soc didn’t make it any better.

“Come on, just for a couple hours,” one of the guys said in an obviously forced, sweet tone.

“I’ve got better things to do with my life,” I replied astringently and refusing to look either of them in the eye.

“Why do you even want her there?” Alison’s shrill voice piped up as jealousy began to overcome her. “She’s just some greaser.” I didn’t care what she had to say because she doesn’t know me, and if they had to gossip about other people in order to feel better about themselves, then so be it. “She’s hangs around with that Curtis crowd. The older one played football with your brother, Paul right?” Alison asked.

“Sure did, a lousy defender too, couldn’t ever hold anyone away and was the whole reason Paul couldn’t get a scholarship.” I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that Darry had the scholarship the Soc was talking about in spite of the fact that Paul was a shitty receiver and made the team look like garbage.

“Yeah, but she’s real friendly with them all if you know what I mean,” the guy Alison referred to as Lawrence said in return.

“But she’s…” Alison tried to think of something to say to get her male friends to forget about me and focus on her. “Isn’t she Dallas’s girl?”

“Would it matter?” one of the guys asked. “It’s not like anyone’s ever stuck around for that hood.”

“I hooked up with that one broad he’d been seeing a few weeks ago,” the other said.

“Besides, I think the three of us could show her a much better time.”

“But he just got out of jail for battery. Do you really want to risk getting beaten senseless for her?” Alison asked with a grimace on her face as she looked over at me.

“I doubt Winston gives enough of a shit to take on all of us,” Lawrence said and looked over his shoulder at me. “But I guess we won’t know if she’s worth it until we see what all your greaser friend has to offer,” he finished before turning his attention away from Alison and taking and making his way toward where I sat, but I wasn’t paying attention to him. I was pleading that Karen walk out and break up whatever was going on before it went too far. Once I noticed the tall, muscular frame approach me, I tried to remain apathetic in my tone.

“Don’t even think about talking to me,” I muttered. In an attempt to avoid a confrontation, I grabbed my book and rose from the chair. If I walked away, I can’t be held responsible, right? I tried to hurry and place the book I was reading back on its shelf, but a pair of rough, clingy hands grasped at my hips and rage flowed through my veins.

“Slow down there, grease,” he cooed softly against the back of my neck. I could feel my body shudder against his presence and my muscles tighten as my mind went through every possible outcome of this situation.

“Back off or else,” I stated sharply and maintained my rigid composure.

“Feisty, huh?” he sighed, “I guess Winston does have a type, only his other bitch was much more willing.”

“Well Sylvia can’t turn down anything with a pulse,” I stated. “Let’s try this one more time—no more warnings: let go of me.” When his hands started to snake underneath the hem of my shirt, I lost control. My elbow flew back and collided with Lawrence’s nose. I spun on my heel and pushed him away after he lunged toward me again and then felt my fist collide with the curve of his eye socket before I noticed the attention that had been drawn to us. The two patrons in the building who weren’t apart of Lawrence and Alison’s friend group had their eyes locked on me and me alone while Karen finally strolled out of her office, seeing Lawrence bloody and my hands balled into fists.

“Alison, escort your friends out. Austin, my office,” Karen growled as she stood outside of her door with her feet apart and arms crossed over her chest. I took long sharp strides until I stood inside the small room with my eyes locked on a single nail plunged into the wall. “What were you thinking?” she scolded, but I knew better than to respond immediately. “Austin, I’m going to need a damn good answer to not fire you right now!” I kept my mouth shut for another minute to regain my composure and then spoke.

“I tried ignoring him,” I admitted, “but I’m not going to let some rich asshole put his hands up my shirt to save face.” Karen was desperate to maintain a positive reputation for the library and, since it is a local government owned establishment, which meant funding from Socs, which meant turning a blind eye to certain things the more affluent patrons do.

Karen’s silence was both comforting and unsettling. I knew she took pity on me and my situation, which meant she was considering not firing me for beating up that Lawrence character, but the confliction on her face made me nervous. “I should fire you, you know that, right.”

“Even though he was about to assault me?” I gasped in protest.

“I can’t go against protocol, Austin, and even if you wanted to challenge it, you’ll be in school soon and will have had to quit anyway.” Her voice was low and I could tell she didn’t want to be doing this. “I can put you on terminal suspension. You’ll still be paid, but only a portion of your paycheck. I know your family needs the money.” I bit my lip and fought back the tears I could feel tugging at my eyes. I really hated when people took pity on me because of what happened to my parents, but this was a new kind of low.

“I know what you’re doing comes from wanting to do what’s right, but it isn’t right to punish the victim of some entitled asshole. I’m not just some girl whose parents were killed! Right now, I’m your best employee who was almost assaulted by some prick whose dad is probably one of the people making sure this place stays open. I don’t need any charity,” I hissed. “I need respect and that’s something no one in the damn town knows how to give any other human being.” I knew I had screwed up whatever chance of getting a couple more weeks of cash for my brothers, but I’d had enough with the rich dicks I went to high school with, so I stormed out of Karen’s office and the library with only my car keys in hand, without thinking about anything besides having to explain what happened to my brothers and having to convince them and the gang not to beat the shit out of Lawrence and make things worse.

Tags: @fuckitsharam 

#dallas winston #ofc x dallas winston #dallas winston fanfiction #The Outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders fanfic #Johnny Cade #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #Curtis!sister #as i see it yes #matt dillon

[inthepantheon]

Answers, Part III

My body aches.  I pop six painkillers into a glass of water and watch them fizz aggressively. I never thought I would need mortal medicine, but they seem to work. If I take enough… Worse than the pain, though, is the huge sense of loss that follows me around like a second shadow. The hind’s blood Alastor, the Avenger, infected me with, has robbed me of my abilities. What am I without my abilities? I’m neither god nor mortal. I’m just a...a...I don’t know anymore. The humiliation is unbearable. No-one can know. I would never live it down. Prometheus: the Titan who lost his gifts. The so-called God of Forethought who couldn’t foretell his own downfall. I would be the laughingstock of the God Complex, a source of constant ridicule. Or worse, pity. I down the water and rest my head in my hands. Argos places his chin on my lap, looking up at me sympathetically with his multi-colored eyes. I stroke his ears, and he slowly wags his tail. Come on, Pro, snap out of it! He seems to urge. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he can tell that something is wrong. After Alastor left me on top of Mount Caucasus, I was angry. I swore that I would have my vengeance, that I would make him suffer, but then a sense of reality kicked in. He had outwitted me at every opportunity, and that was when I had my abilities. Now I have to face him weaponless, what chance do I have? Disbelief and the need to rationalize followed: he couldn’t have obtained hind’s blood. It was virtually impossible...the effects would wear off soon...I had embellished the events in my mind. No. It was real enough, and realization paved the way for an overwhelming sense of sadness over the pathetic god I had become. It felt like I was grieving for a lost friend, and my self-loathing paralyzed me. I couldn’t think, I could barely move. I had lost all motivation and couldn’t see the point of going on. After a few days, the sadness waned, and I knew that I couldn’t continue in such a sorrowful state. Now I just feel hollow. I’m adrift, and I desperately need some wind in my sails to get me going. I need to look forward rather than back, but every time I try, I stare into a mirror. I bang my fist on the table in frustration, and Argos walks away, sensing my mood. I didn’t mean to frighten him. He’s the only thing keeping me together. “Sorry, boy,” I mutter and grab a pile of papers in front of me. I have work to do. And a lot of it. Demeter went missing a while ago. I’m not the only one with problems. That thought provides a crumb of comfort, although I worry for her. I always liked Demeter, and I hope it’s nothing serious. Anyway, her role as Legal Counsel to the OA has filtered through to me. Temporarily, at least. It’s not a position I wish to hold on to, but needs must, I suppose. It would seem that she was fighting a lot of fires at the point she went missing. Now I’m getting all of her emails, so I busy myself trying to get on top of it. It’s a much-needed distraction. And then an email lands for her.  It seems trivial, and usually, I would skip straight past it, but something about it catches my eye. I re-read it a few times. Demeter requested some searches on someone named Eric Draven, but they have come back blank. There is an apology for the delay; she made the request a few months ago, and it’s been forgotten. Eric Draven. Where do I know that name? I carry on with some work and allow my subconscious to get the answer for me from the depths of my mind. The Crow. It’s a film from the nineties with Brandon Lee as the lead. He was shot for real during the filming, and he died from his injuries. He plays a character called Eric Draven, who is brought back to life to avenge the murder of his fiance and himself. I watched it not so long ago, which is why the name seemed familiar. Now I’m intrigued. Why was Demeter undertaking searches on someone named Eric Draven? I look at the date the request was sent and then dig into Demeter’s calendar to see what she was doing on or around that time. There’s nothing that looks relevant, so I check her account. I discover an email chain dated a few days before the request was sent from [email protected]. It’s not a particularly interesting read. The emails tell me that Eric had an unstated proposition he wanted to make in relation to the God Complex, and he wanted to arrange a meeting with Demeter to discuss it. Demeter requested further information, and he pushed back to say it would be in her interest to meet up with him. He confirms his name and the name of his company - Draven Properties. Demeter then agreed to meet him, but there is no correspondence after that. I look at the filing system to see if there are any records of the meeting and find a file note. Demeter was certainly thorough.  Attendance with Eric Draven I agreed to meet with Mr. Draven today to discuss a ‘proposition’ he had. He was quite insistent. He came to the office with three files and said that he had a proposal in relation to expanding the building. Mr. Draven then started to cough. When the cough turned violent, I went to get some water, but on my return, he had recovered. He then asked if we could postpone the meeting to a later date as he was not feeling well. I said that I saw no reason he could not send details about the proposal by email in the first instance, and he agreed. As an aside, I have undertaken some preliminary searches on Eric Draven and the company ‘Draven Properties’ but could not find anything other than a holding website for the company. As far as I can see, there are no companies registered with that name. I have paid for some additional searches to be undertaken as the entire event was rather peculiar. I will wait to see what comes back. D.       I know that Demeter will have undertaken rigorous searches, but nevertheless, I search for the company and ‘Eric Draven’ and find nothing other than the holding page she mentioned. The company doesn’t exist, so whatever ‘Eric’ came in for wasn’t bona fide, to use a legal phrase.  Then I search for the owner of the domain name. Often such results are hidden, it’s seen as necessary to protect the user’s privacy, but it seems I’ve gotten lucky because they must not have ticked the right box. The owner’s name is listed as Eric Draven, but the associated email address is [email protected]. A shiver goes down my spine. The domain name must have been purchased before the website with its new email address was created, and so it was registered using Eric’s old email address. Could [email protected] be him? Is that how he found all that information about me? From Demeter’s office? My personal file would be in there with my number, my address, and everything OA had gathered on me over the years. It would explain how he knew so much, how he was able to stay one step ahead. Knowledge is power.  I undertake some searches of the new email address and play about with the parameters on the search engine. It seems [email protected] has been quite vocal on dozens of forums using the username The Crow, but he reveals no information about himself. All the forums relate to discussions and conspiracy theories on murders and violence from all around the world. I follow the trail to a message thread from several years ago. In it, a user, Falcon101 complains about her husband cheating on her with her best friend. The Crow responds by promoting a website where she can pay for retribution. The Crow claims to have used the site himself and was very satisfied with the result. Falcon101 is interested, and The Crow provides some instructions. I follow them. But this isn’t the sort of site you can find on a normal browser. For this, I’m going to need something called Tor, because I will need to enter the dark web. A place where you can’t find anything by searching. A place where people can hide in the shadows and avoid detection.  I take a deep breath. I’ve looked at the rabbit hole, and now I need to venture down it. I download the software and continue with the instructions. This is it.  A website called The Avenger. This is where Alastor sells his services.  It must be.  I scroll through what’s on offer, and it makes me feel sick. There’s stuff on there that would have you screaming for Freddy Krueger to come back. It promotes everything from mind tricks to violent death, each with a price in Bitcoin next to it. There are even reviews. All of them 5*. I look through the site and place violent death in the cart. It then asks me for details: who, when, where, why, how. There are some suggestions for the how that makes my blood curdle. I make up some false information, and then it asks for 30 Bitcoins upfront. The final payment of 40 Bitcoins is payable once the act is completed. That’s a lot of money, like hundreds of thousands of dollars. I was hoping to find a connection I could work with, but all I’ve done is make myself feel sick. There’s a box to tick to say that you have accepted the terms and conditions. What on earth could be in the terms and conditions?  I click on them out of curiosity. They are surprisingly well written and explain what happens if you are dissatisfied with the service or wish to cancel an order like you’re buying socks or something. And then I spot something. A common mistake when terms are copied. The small print towards the end of the terms has not been amended, and they refer to a company called A. A. Construction. It’s in the text lawyers would call boilerplate. The text everyone glosses over. The text no-one cares about. The terms must have been drafted for A. A. Construction and then bastardized for this site, but whoever changed them forgot to edit the boilerplate. They probably got bored.    I close the dark web and return to my normal browser. I feel like I need a shower after that, but I’m excited. I have a lead. I run a search for A. A. Construction and find that it exists. It’s a construction company incorporated a few years ago, and it has one shareholder: Alex Arnold. I look at the company details and discover that it has a large portfolio of properties. Alex Arnold’s address is listed on the records as the company’s registered address, which is not uncommon. But it is not particularly helpful.  I look instead at the original incorporation document for the company, available for a small fee, and I hit the jackpot. I have Alex Arnold’s personal address, and it’s a penthouse in the affluent side of town. I know the location well, I’ve walked past it many times and stared up at the flats with their Juliet balconies and wondered what they were like inside. I search the company’s website to look for an image of Alex Arnold, but there is nothing. I carry out some image searches on Google, but it comes up with soccer players and actors. I try one last search using Alex Arnold’s name, the name of the company, and the name of a charity event that is mentioned on the website.  An image pops up of a newspaper article.  I click on it and zoom in. There are a lot of people in the picture, but in the background, I spot someone who is wearing sunglasses and looking extremely uncomfortable.  It’s him. Alastor. Alastor is Alex Arnold and Eric Draven. The construction company must be his way of cleaning his money. Not only that, but I also have his address. I know how to find him. Quite what I will do with the information, I have no idea, but knowledge is power.  I need to think...I need a vacation. Read the full article

#Alastor #DarkWeb #Demeter #email #lawyer #Prometheus

[mycolorsarefading]

Why Should That Mean It’s Not Real

I never wanted to have a “story.” Autobiographies are the most self centered things a person can do, and believing the fairy-tale, feel-good mantra that we are the heroes of our own stories rings hollow and naive. I am under no false pretense that my experiences in life merit a record of any sort, and I’m ok knowing that I’m as unimportant to the story of reality as the next guy who comes along.

That being said, I’ve found some freedom by writing down the thoughts jumbled around in my head as a means to both obtain clarity and confirm to myself that this is all real. For most of my life I’ve lived with an overactive internal world that was always richer and more engaging than the outer world in which I was forced to go through the motions. My reliance on my jungle of thoughts has made it difficult to distinguish the inner and outer worlds, and has far too often left me questioning if my experiences happened at all.

To quote Dumbledore when responding to Harry’s question about the reality of his post-death experience at Kings Cross: “Of course this is all happening inside your head Harry. But why should that mean it isn’t real?” So to cement for myself that my thoughts and experiences confined to my inner world are truly real, I’m documenting the pieces of my life I’ve kept behind walls for so long.

I grew up in a perfect piece of SoCal suburbia. So perfect it became a Netflix show. My family life was a picture of stability and there was nothing inherent about life that would cause me harm. Except for me. I remember absolutely nothing of my early childhood, but I am told I was a difficult child - fussy, particular, dramatic, not enjoyable to be around, and someone who was the rain on everyone else’s parade. I was the one you didn’t want around, and the one who would cause adults to sigh. I’ve been reminded many times how mean I was to my parents, how selfish I was with everything, and how it’d be easier to call me a burden than a blessing.

Of course, that’s all what I’m told. I have nothing of my own to bank that on, and can only trust that that’s the truth. And it must be, since it manifested itself in my “social life” as a kid. In elementary school I was bullied for being weird. I was good at school and didn’t like sports; rough housing and other “boy” things didn’t come naturally to me, and therefore neither did friendships. I never had a male friend my entire childhood, and the only friend I had was a girl named Jennifer who was my neighbor and had a video game console I could play. I was alone and turned to the insane imagination I had to invent the friends I couldn’t find in my real world.

When I was 9, my parents started attending church again and for the first time I experienced religion. They found a home at the first church they went to, an evangelical semi-Baptist church of the SoCal Protestant tradition. I was forced to socialize with new people, and was excited for the chance of new friends. While I did make “friends”, the best friend moniker remained unused and I experienced the same feelings of otherness I got at school. But this time, it was coupled with teaching that you are supposed to hate who you are and there are certain ways to think/act/behave to fit in with this group.

My later elementary school years were filled with the same feelings of otherness. I wanted to fit in with the boys. I could befriend the girls a bit easier, but I wanted a guy friend. But I was a nerd who played piano and joined the mini version of a glee club, who wore sweatpants all the time because he hated his body and hated his lack of athletic skill. In fifth grade, we were forced to sign everyone’s yearbooks explaining what we would remember most about them. I put thought into what I wrote, but when I got mine back - it was just pages of “He’s smart. He gets good grades. He’s smart. He gets A’s”. That’s all I was, my ability to be good at school. I went home and started smashing my head into the walls because I read that doing that kills brain cells, and I wanted to be dumber so people would like me. I kept slamming my head into walls routinely until I realized it only would give me migraines.

I’m junior high my parents decided to homeschool me so I could learn a Christian education. My social isolation increased, but by high school I did finally make my first close guy friend. By this point though, I almost didn’t even feel like a guy. Whatever men were supposed to do, whatever counted as a “guy” thing, whatever the expectations were of manly experiences - I had no connections to any of that. I definitely didn’t feel like a woman, but I had no connection to men either. At church things were frequently gendered: women’s bible studies, men’s breakfasts, women’s retreats, men’s camping trips, etc. The male events were always full of the same stereotypical white masculine charicatures, trying to lead the younger boys in role models of maleness. I developed my social chameleon skills learning to blend in enough in these situations so I didn’t stand out and had superficial connections to these church leaders. Father/son events were always the worst because my dad knew I wasn’t interested in the activities so we never went. I let him down as a son, and as a boy.

So I pretended. And through all of it, was raised in what I’m now comfortable calling cult-like situations. It was not a cult, but the thought processes, mantras, group think, emotional abuse, and gaslighting that occurred have enough of the same ingredients. I grew up without any sense of self esteem, worth, or confidence - because I was taught those are all explicitly evil. Self esteem was ridiculed, and any challenges I faced in life were my personal fault. Every time I’d reach out to an adult in my life about lack of friends, I was told “never expect people to just be your friend - you have to be a friend to them first. If you have no friends, you’re not doing enough on your end to make people want to be your friend”. When it came to dating, it was worse. Dating was evil and Satan’s way to lead people astray into sex. Biblical courtship was the proper means to a relationship, and you had to fix all your own problems before beginning that process or you’d lead your future spouse into your darkness.

I was told my spiritual gift was service. And I was happy about that - it felt good being needed. I poured myself into being useful, thinking that finally if I did enough things for people they’d see that I’m worth having around and things would be better. At church functions, my family and I would attend but not to enjoy the event. We would be there early setting up, in the background managing practical items (like finding extra chairs), and staying late to clean up. I was permanently helping, and any time I would question why I had to have others’ backs but nobody ever had mine - I was told that I should never expect people to be there for me, and that wasn’t the point of service. The point of service was to always be there for others regardless if you didn’t like it, felt it was unfair, or simply wanted a break. You are a servant, so others come first. You are never an “other” though, and how dare you expect someone to put you first - you aren’t worth that.

In high school I found a folder on my mom’s computer with her weekly prayers saved in separate documents for her prayer meetings. I opened them, and it was all full of similar requests and concerns. My dad’s job was difficult and she wanted him to have help and be safe. My sister was growing in her faith, and my mom wanted to be thankful for that. And me - I was struggling with my faith, I was the one she believed was not saved and was still doomed, I was the one who had issues to fix, and she was actively praying that I would never find a spouse until I came to Jesus and repented. I was her problem child; not only was it my fault I didn’t have friends, I had people pleading to God I wouldn’t find happiness until I fixed my problems. Whatever cards were there were stacked against me by the people closest to me.

The entirety of my existence in this part of my life was made worse by one thing that has been the genesis of most subsequent issues. I had already built walls and developed alternate personalities to fit the circumstances I needed to survive through - but my isolation and my walls were completed when I was 13. I discovered porn via the internet and discovered what masturbation was. As any preteen going through puberty this was par for the course. My issues started when I realized I was physically attracted to the men in porn. My whole life my crushes had always been on women. I pictured a life married to a ride-or-die kind of girl and the early phases of puberty did invoke a physical attraction to the female. But what terrified me the most took over and I couldn’t deny my attraction to men. I was scared because I knew being gay was evil. I was scared because I had nobody to talk to. I was scared because I had no romantic desires to men, and still had romantic desires for women. I was confused, alone, and trapped.

I went to a Christian college where these repressed gay desires kept festering. I had no outlet to try to figure out if my desires were real or just imagined. To avoid the issue I just never dated. That was easy to justify given my upbringing despite the intense pressure of the college to get married by the time you graduated. I did have one female friend I was incredibly close to, that we agreed during a relationship autopsy that we had in fact dated during college. There had never been any physical component to our relationship and I graduated college a confused virgin.

I moved to a major metropolis after college, far enough from home. While this move made me grow up and find my own voice away from the cult-like bubble of my upbringing, it ushered into my life the darkness that broke my brain and maybe my soul.

I finally had freedom of choice and could finally try to figure out my sexuality. I didn’t have a smartphone and dating apps were still fairly new, but there were enough websites around where I could take a chance at meeting a guy to explore with. Guys my age were not interested in me. I am fat, on the down low, and physically repulsive. For about a year I kept chatting, browsing personals, and figuring things out from the safety of a computer screen. After about a year, I chatted with an older man who wanted to meet and I felt brave enough to try. I got to his place and I had no idea what to do. He met me at the door and was obviously older than he said, and had to have been around 70. I was 22. And on that day, I had my first ever sexual experience with a creepy man 50 years my senior. It was mostly just kissing - but my first kiss was with this old man, as a naive kid trying to understand who he was. I don’t have a cute first kiss story.

Somehow that experience emboldened me though and I kept trying for more. My training kicked in and I just kept trying to find guys who wanted me who I could be of use to, never something that would be a mutually helpful connection. I followed darker and darker paths that led me into danger I can only now recognize in hindsight. When I was 24, I met a man online whose name I don’t recall. He was watching a movie and wanted a friend to cuddle and watch with him. It sounded fun and tame so I went. I hadn’t done anything more than kiss with a guy and wasn’t interested in that yet, so a movie night sounded fun. I show up, and the movies on and we start hanging out. He starts caressing me in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable but before I could say anything he was already shoving me down towards his crotch for oral. He’s taller and stronger than me so I don’t resist and I’m scared. He keeps my head in his hands as he forces me to give him oral, before tossing me aside and getting a condom. I’m slightly in shock and can’t comprehend what he’s doing until I can feel it behind me. I ask if what I’m feeling is his dick, just in enough time for him to say yes and shove hard. The next thing I remember I’m standing in his bathroom looking in the mirror, pale white and trying to check myself for blood. I’m in shock and leave his apartment pretending everything is fine. I don’t even know how I got home that night. I walked most of the 4-5 miles home but I know I got on a bus at some point. It took me hours, because I remember throwing up multiple times on the way and getting home as the sun rose. All I remember is the splitting headache, the vomiting, and the constant physical shaking all over my whole body. I did nothing and told no one, and responded nicely to his message the next morning saying I had a good time. That was the first time I was raped.

I kept trying to meet guys thinking I could get a better experience than that. I wasn’t even sure if I was physically enjoying it, and I did discover some physical issues that prevent a good sex life regardless of who I was trying to hook up with. I met another guy I connected with well and we hung out a few times platonically. I felt like I had maybe a new friend, and we were having some fun in the bedroom too on occasion. A few years into knowing him I was hanging out at his apartment one day when he started to get aggressive with me to indicate he was frisky. I was in no mood to do the deed but he continued to insist against my stated wishes to not. And no matter how many times I said wait or hold on - he continued. Until I blacked out. It took years, but I recognize now that this was the second time I had been raped but by someone I considered a friend.

I had years around this time when my continued pushes to explore trying to convince myself whether I was gay or not took me down paths I had to lie to a lot of people about to protect myself. I had health scares I couldn’t confide in anyone about, unless I divulged my secret. So I didn’t, and went at it completely alone. The darkness I encountered will stay with me to the grave, and the consequences were the depression I fell into and the continued fucking up of my head. Eventually enough was enough and I wanted to try a normal relationship to see if I could muster romantic feelings for men. I met a guy on a site I went crazy for. We went on dates, laughed a lot, and I thought I maybe put the worst behind me and turned over a new leaf. One day I had been hanging out with him and we went to his place to take a nap. We woke up later than we wanted to and he told me he had a hookup coming over he forgot about. He and I weren’t exclusive and I wasn’t bothered but I started to head out anyway. He asked me if I wanted to stay and join the two of them; I liked him so I said sure. In the triangle I found myself in shortly, he became rough. His aggression started getting unchecked and he forced himself onto me when I didn’t want him to and my panic set in. I said no, over and over again rapidly. He kept going and my nightmare relapsed. It took the third guy hitting him on the arm to tell him to stop to finally make it stop. He said sorry and I left to use the bathroom but pretended again that all was fine. And for a third time, I had been raped.

Throughout all of this, I worked a job with insane demands at times of the year that would cause me to sleep in the office at times, to have daily panic attacks, and to get ill from stress and anxiety. I was physically weak from stress, completely alone in my experiences outside of work, and in and out of deep depression for years. There was always a voice in my head telling me to kill myself, and at its worst I couldn’t shut it up I screamed. I would take vacation for a week to lay in bed and do nothing. I was suicidal but never attempted anything, so I felt like a failure at being suicidal. I couldn’t even try to kill myself properly. And the voices in my head from my childhood kept telling me it was my fault. I was evil for struggling with attraction to men, it was my fault for having no friends or community because I wasn’t fixing myself, I deserved to be dead for what I’d gone through, and it wouldn’t matter anyway because I had no worth (only use). Combined with an extreme hatred of self and body image issues, I’ve ended up with my share of mental illnesses. My brain is broken and my soul may be gone.

In addition to all of that, I’ve been through enough other trauma than I’d cared to. I’ve driven off a cliff due to black ice and developed a paralyzing fear of snow and mountains. Half my family is dead or in jail for a laundry list of crimes. I’ve seen a guy get mutilated and killed by a train he was shoved in front of. And so forth.

My job and my work is the only thing in my life in which I have confidence and a sense of safety. Like my fifth grade yearbook, I know that I am smart and capable and if there’s one thing I can protect about my life it’s that. I do however hold myself back there as well. I’m overworked and as a result I’ve had my pay curtailed for administrative check boxes not being completed timely. So despite fighting to be good at my job to protect my own sanity, I’m losing money over it. And one of my employees recently drunkenly yelled at me in front of a large portion of the office that I’m a terrible role model, a bad leader, and that nobody should ever want to be like me. My deepest insecurities about myself have just had salt rubbed in their wounds, publicly. The last bastion of my mental health is failing and it’s hard to not feel like it’s entirely my fault.

The icing on the cake is the most recent revelation I’ve had the horror of unraveling. I had a dream recently, that consisted of many things. I was in my therapists office, and I could see her notes. She was calling me an “it” in them. A female friend of hers came in and laughed in my face about needing therapy. And then the worst part. The room transformed and I was on a bed still talking to my therapist. It was grungy and two men entered from a side door. One of them I knew, dressed normally. The other looked like the human personification of a pig and was perverted and demented. The pervert came to the bed and sat down behind me. As I continued talking to my therapist he lifted my shirt and started rubbing my low back. I woke up screaming and sweating as he began to molest me.

The first man from the dream I knew. And I remembered everything. He was in college when I was 13, and I met him through church. He wanted to play video games and my parents met me hang at the place he was housesitting. I remember everything about that house. Every detail, every color, the layout - everything. Except the bedroom. Whatever my brain was trying to protect me from was in that bedroom. And with a lot of work to break down those walls and unlock whatever repressed memory is hiding away....I think I understand that I may have been molested as a kid. I don’t know for certain, and I don’t think I’ll ever truly know. But I think on that day, he took me into that room to show me his dick and possibly do other things. I’m going to continue to try to remember.

So I’m 30 years old. Raised in a semi-cult like religion. Maybe gay, maybe not. I’ve been raped 3 times. I’m almost always depressed and suicidal, and I have both PTSD and CPTSD. I work to the point of physical exhaustion and illness and I’m alone. Who I am is starting to hurt my performance at work and erode the only part of myself I don’t hate. While this is a glimpse behind most of my walls, there are walls that will never come down because if they do I will die. I know that happiness and relationships are not part of my reality anymore, and I’m working on my goal of contentment and acceptance.

This is my story. It’s all in my head.

....But it’s real.

[hazecat-blog]

Pathfinder Adventures P.2

Here’s part 2 or our second session of pathfinder with a party of 9!

previous ---> next

Again, this summary was created by one of our party members and edited by me to include other details. Enjoy!

The second session of the new Pathfinder game was today. It mostly consisted of us wasting time partying in inappropriate places, but eventually, we stumbled across some enemy activity.

So, it started at breakfast the next day. Most of the party (except for June, the sorcerer, and Noggin the floating skull and his valet) were eating at the Iron Dragon because it was free and (for the Snarrot crew) better than shipboard accommodations.

During breakfast, they overheard a young couple talking about how their son had claimed to see a goblin in his closet, but when they checked, nothing was there. Phoof (the tree) was quick to push her way into the conversation. "I'm great with kids! I can help him!"

Now, Altei (the Ninja) went with Phoof everywhere, since they were best friends, and Ash (the kitsune magus) seemed determined to stick to Phoof like glue. Val (the sea witch) followed Ash everywhere, and Kaito (the kitsune barbarian) followed her around when he had nothing better to do. Elisi (the monk), and Zakhar (the alchemist) also had nothing better to do.

The parents were unsure at the wisdom of such a huge group of people parading into their frightened child's room but weren't willing to tell the heroes of Sandpoint to go away. So, they headed across town to their home.

On the way, they ran into June (the half-orc) and Noggin's valet accompanied by several other orphans that Noggin had decided to train to be his thieves' guild. Not having truly introduced each other yet the group talked with June along the way.

Phoof: "What's in the box?" June: "My Uncle" Phoof: "Your Uncle's a box?" June: "No, he's in the box" Phoof: "So your Uncle's really small?" Ash: "Maybe he's a brownie?" *the party argued about what's in the box until the valet opened it and a floating, jewelled skull came out* Noggin: "Greetings!" Ash: "Shiny!" Phoof: "I remember you!"

The party also ran into various grateful townsfolk, one of whom gave them each a baguette as thanks for 'saving the city from the goblins'. Noggin tried to get them to feed the bread to his orphans... Kaito took the bait, wielding his bread as if it was a rapier and lunging at the child's face. The child laughed and slipped a donut onto the end of it. Phoof shared part of hers since Altei had already eaten half of it.

Once they arrived, the parents finally got up the courage not to let them all go inside. So a few went up to check on the kid (I think it was Phoof, Val, and Elisi?) while the rest hung around outside looking for any sign of goblin incursion.

However, just as they went inside, there was a scream, and the three ran upstairs to find the father mortally wounded, the family dog eviscerated, and suspicious gobbling noises coming from the closet. Phoof immediately went to work healing the father so that he wouldn't die, while Elisi threw open the closet and brutally murdered the goblin she found inside, stunning him with the first punch and finishing him off with a second.

Further investigation determined that the goblin had likely snuck in through the chimney, and had hollowed out a hidey-hole in the back of the closet, behind a secret panel. The boy and the father were both badly hurt, but Zakhar and Phoof managed to save their lives and the boy's foot, which was partially eaten.

Still, the parents were far from grateful. "I guess these so-called heroes didn't do such a good job getting rid of the goblins after all!" The mom said. Elisi shot back with. "Well, maybe you should've listened to your child better."

Since the guard was willing to do the grunt work of searching door to door for more signs of hidden goblins, the party wandered off for another lazy day of doing not much of anything.

A bunch of the party ended up at the Happy Pillbug, a supposedly-always-closed store which the Snarrot crew suspected of being a front for a drug dealer. Altei got them inside and managed to guess the extremely insecure challenge-and-response password, so the proprietor offered to sell them his wares, although he wouldn't tell them what they were.

"Name what you wish, or name your price range, and I will pick for you."

Kaito hadn't gone inside and decided instead to sneak around to the back where the store had a large garden growing a variety of plants.

Kaito: "I'll nibble on a few to see what they do." GM: "Without even knowing what they are?" Kaito: "Well, I know a bit about nature. Let me check... 17?" GM: "You see Belladonna, Hemlock..." Kaito: "Ooooh, not the sort of drugs we were thinking of, then."

Fortunately, those inside also managed to figure out that the dealer was selling poison in time to avoid embarrassing themselves horribly. I think Altei ended up buying a few doses?

They got a few other things done that day -- some went to see a play that told the history of the previous temple before it burned down, Phoof went and gathered information about current events in the tavern frequented by the actors and musicians.

I think this was also where they ran into Shalalu the elf, who told them about the surrounding goblin tribes and goblin heroes she'd been hunting for ages. There was a tenuous kind-of-peace between the goblins and the town, which seemed to be fraying, and rumors that all five tribes were working together for some reason. Shalalu was going to go spy on a tribe to the south, and the party considered doing something similar, but the sheriff told them to stay in town to keep morale up and protect from any further attacks, while they waited for reinforcements from the south.

Eventually, they all met up for dinner at the Iron Dragon, got really drunk (or at least the Snarrot crew did), and decided to go party in the graveyard, since it was near the church and they hadn't checked it out yet. Except for Noggin and June, who had been there before, and caught them on the way. They decided to give their midnight graveyard party a more directed objective.

Noggin: "First, we have to rearrange the gravestones to open the crypt door." Kaito: "Oh, clever. How do we know which ones to rearrange?" Noggin: "Just pick any of them, it's magic." Phoof: *begins to move towards a gravestone before getting grabbed by Altei* Everyone else: "Stop! He's obviously lying to you!"

Inside the crypt, June pointed out the chamber where the previous priest's bones had been stolen, and the still-sealed crypt next to it that Noggin wanted them to break into.

Then, skeletons attacked. It was only four of them, though, and they managed to defeat them easily even though Kaito was drunk enough that he forgot he was still wielding a baguette instead of a rapier (light improvised weapon, -4 to hit, 1d4+1 damage, halved because it's made out of bread). He was going to leave it lodged in a skeleton's ribcage but was informed about the 30-second rule which meant it was still good to eat.

Noggin then tried to convince them to break into the sealed crypt, which they discovered was the crypt of an evil necromancer. "Clearly, he's summoning these skeletons! We need to deal with him once and for all."

Altei: *whispering to Phoof* Phoof: "The crypt is magically sealed. If we break the seal, he will escape." Noggin: "Not if we defeat him!" Zakhar: "Do you really want to release this evil and have to fight?" Kaito: "Yeah, kinda."

June convinced them to wait -- he'd go (with Val, I think?) to find the sheriff who they'd met in the crypt a couple nights back, and ask if he knew why the crypt was sealed before they unsealed it and possibly made things worse.

The rest stayed behind to guard the crypt, which they did by setting up camp around Phoof's fireless heat-stone and telling ghost stories until they fell asleep (except for Phoof herself who the group learned didn't sleep).

Ash: "Don't you have a room back at the inn? What do you use the bed for?" Phoof: "The bed is for Altei. Not me. Beds are for jumping on, not sleeping."

June and Val couldn't find the sheriff (suspicious!) but they did find the new priest, who was shocked to hear that the crypt had been violated. Why hadn't the sheriff told him?

At any rate, he told them that the crypt was sealed so that no undead could ever open it, and only a living creature could break the seal, so even if the necromancer was summoning the skeletons, they'd be powerless to release him. He set a proper guard on it nonetheless, and let the slumber-party move on back to the Iron Dragon to get some real sleep.

But it was not to be -- when they arrived, a flustered employee told them that Ameiko was missing! Searching her room, they found a crumpled letter from her brother (who was disowned by their father and banished from the town) to come to the Glassworks workshop at midnight. SUSPICIOUS.

It was morning by the time they reached the glassworks, which was closed up and supposedly abandoned, but then why were the kilns running full blast? They were warned not to break in, since the glassworks' owners' family were wealthy and respected, and they could get in a lot of trouble, so they tried knocking on the doors (no response) and peeking in through the windows (no sign of anyone, although they couldn't see into the main glassworking chamber).

Phoof was about to head off to get permission to enter, but first several of them climbed onto the roof to look down through the skylights. Oh, look! Goblins!

Lots of goblins! And an ogre! Building some weird glass statue in the middle of the room, while smashing everything else to bits!

Altei picked a lock to let most of them enter, and Elisi smashed open a skylight for herself and June. Phoof was about to enter too when Altei stopped her. He warned her of a prophecy an old woman told him about earlier that day, so he didn't want Phoof going inside the building. Phoof agreed to listen to him and ran off with Ash to get the guards instead.

The floor of the long, thin room was covered in broken glass, making it hard to move around for everyone but Elisi. The ogre cast a darkness spell on the end of the room where Altei, Kaito, and Val were entering, but it didn't slow them down much since there was plenty of dim light available from elsewhere in the room. They started slaughtering the goblins methodically, alongside Elisi jumping down from above, while Noggin flew across the room to taunt the goblins with insults.

The ogre didn't move to engage, however. Instead, he ran to the other end of the room and started summoning something. Seeing that, June jumped down and tried to magic-missle him to disrupt it, but some unseen force (spell resistance) dissipated the attack before it could strike. FOOSH! A gush of fire washed out of the furnace, burning Kaito, as a large fire elemental emerged and punched him, burning him more but failing to set him on fire.

Not able to attack the ogre directly, June started casting protection from fire on Kaito and Val, as Elisi and Altei moved across the room towards the ogre. The ogre -- who'd captured Noggin and was holding the tiny floating skull clenched in one club like fist -- moved to meet them halfway, meeting Elisi alone because she was so much faster in the broken glass, and pummeling her badly.

Kaito shifted targets and risked hurting himself on the glass to charge across the room and join the attack on the ogre. Altei also finally caught up, turning invisible and stabbing at the ogre with a poisoned blade, but the ogre stayed focused on the monk, and reduced Elisi to a single hit point! But the monk was brave, and continued her assault, hoping that one more flurry of blows would drop the ogre at last...

It didn't.

Meanwhile, Zakhar, who'd spent the whole combat opening doors and running down hallways to get around to the other side of the giant room for an ill-advised flanking operation, finally arrived, and finished off the ogre with a firebomb -- defeated, the ogre turned to gas and started slowly trying to escape. The bomb also finished off the last goblin, so the fight was over, right?

Not quite. The elemental was still being annoying since its summoner was just gaseous, not dead. And it wouldn't die! Val, who'd spent the whole fight drinking healing potion after healing potion to stay ahead of the incoming damage, finally lost her nerve and ran for it.

Then Zakhar threw another bomb at the gas, which finished it off for good, and dispelled the summoned elemental.

Kaito and Elisi tried to scrape the molten glass off the 'statue', which they'd been able to see was actually a bunch of glass poured over and over a man -- Ameiko's father! Unfortunately, the inner foot or so of glass was already hardened, and the man was very, very dead.

They still had the rest of the building to search for signs of what was really going on, but at that point Phoof and Ash returned with the guard, just in time to see Val come running out of the building while on fire (June had given her fire resistance earlier) and throw herself to the ground in order to put the fire out. -- As you may have guessed, the Ogre Magi was not part of the original level-1 module. x.x Tom added it for some extra challenge. Then decided not to use a cone of cold to kill the entire party when we were all trapped in a small enclosed area since we'd been expecting an ordinary ogre.

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [37]

The first report comes during midday, just before noon. The messenger’s horse is covered of a foam of sweat and the messenger herself is no better off. Her eyes are wide and her face is pale. This is not new or uncommon.

But there’s something else.

There’s hope.

The messenger grasps at Rylen’s hands, “It’s Haven.”

The report is short and brief, delivered and pieced together through gasps of air and a baffling image that no one can believe.

Earlier, just before dawn, something was seen destroying Corypheus’ forces around the ruins of Haven.

The remains of Haven are a sore point to many for multiple reasons. But the Inquisition and the remaining resistance forces don’t have the time or resources to reclaim it. It holds no strategic purpose, just morale.

Corypheus holds it under watch to show them, to flaunt his victories, to revel in their despair.

And yet -

Something has begun to pry Haven from his grasp.

It isn’t quite believable.

The second messenger comes a little under an hour later as they’re arguing as to what this could mean, as to what is going on.

This messenger had left almost as soon as the first one -

“It’s her,” He says, pale and shaking, eyes bright with something that isn’t a fever - for once.

Her.

There could be only one thing that’s a her at the ruins of Haven. There was only one her left behind. There was only one her lost.

It is impossible.

Lavellan’s name has long gone down through rumors and legends and myths. Many who have joined the Inquisition know of her through the stories of how she died to save the shambling fragments of the Inquisition.

And yet -

When the forces of Corypheus were decimated, when the area had been cleansed of Red Templars and their forces, it was her who remained.

They had seen. They had watched.

“How do you know it’s her?” Solas asks.

From the ashes and the ruin, a single light of green. And a woman, dark with ash and blood and violence. From the wreckage of what was once a grim reminder of loss, she stood, and she let out a mighty scream that shook the heavens, the mountains, the dead. And with that scream, she unleashed a torrent of green.

There is no mistaking that specific and particular shade of green.

“Look to the sky,” The messenger says. “Do you know anyone else it could have been?”

For the first time in years, they look to the sky.

In the distance over Haven, they see it - almost imperceptible, but clear if you know what to look for.

And they do.

The Breach glows, the red and ash of the sky almost smothers it, but they can see it clear as anything. The Breach glows, the green of what was once their only problem.

It glows.

It shines.

And just like it did, years and months and deaths ago -

The Breach lets out one, ear-shaking pulse that washes overtime like a heavy blow of an invisible tide.

And it cracks the red and blighted heavens.

-

“A reason?” Lavellan’s voice cracks like heated stone, steam pushing the heavy layers of rock apart, “You want a reason to fight with me? A reason to follow me?”

Lavellan’s dark eyes seem to burn as she stares at Cullen.

Cullen is no longer the man he once was. None of them are.

“You are all under some sort of misapprehension,” Lavellan says, eyes fixed on Cullen but addressing the motley gathering of the remains of Inquisition leaders and various resistance group leaders. “I do not need you. I do not care if you decide to add your forces to mine or not. With or without your approval and help I will tear Corypheus down from his false throne and I will make him suffer. This,” Lavellan’s voice softens, simmers, slides, “Is not a promise. This is not a dream or an aspiration or a goal or any sort of intangible dream. That is the truth. I will do it. Whether you are there or not when it happens is your choice.”

Bull traces the side of her face, the side of her body where the Anchor once was - the ruined mess of flesh that her shoulder and upper arm abruptly end in, the black and otherworldly twist of her veins underneath her skin. He believes her. Bull hasn’t believed in much for a while, but when she says that, he believes. He remembers someone else, something else, a long time ago.

It isn’t the same creature. Same bones, different scales.

“I am not going to ask you for anything,” She says, “I will not promise you anything. I will not bribe or bargain or negotiate or otherwise request anything. I am simply going to give you all a choice. I am going to give everyone a choice. Fight or submit? Resist or disappear? Live or die? Strive or accept? Reclaim or rot? Struggle or wither?”

Her eyes swallow the air and the space between. They swallow everything.

“Your Maker has turned his back on you,” Lavellan says. Her voice takes a turn for something sweeter, something incongruously more soft and warm, “Your Andraste closes her eyes and ears to you. Your prayers have gone unanswered, your cries unminded, and your suffering unnoticed. The Great Mother and Father and their brood shut themselves away. The Wolf turns his tail to run. You want something to believe in? You want a reason? I am here.”

The ruin of Lavellan’s arm slowly raises, and from it a bloom of magical green that swirls like the smoke of the Breach and the Fade, condensing into an arm as she gestures out towards them.

“I, and I alone, stand before you. I, and I alone, will hear you. I, and I alone, have returned for you. Your Maker and Andraste have left you to your fate. The Pantheon and the Wolf remain negligent. The Gods of the Avaar war amongst themselves as petty creatures, consumed with their own squabbles. The spirits of Rivain flee and are scattered like dried and wasted leaves in the wind. The Qun is a hollow promise that moves like a shambling creature towards its own death. You ask for a reason? The fact that I stand before you is your reason. You want someone to answer your prayers? You want something, someone, to believe in? You want a miracle? I will be that,” Lavellan’s spectral fingers curl into a fist, “Corypheus wants to become a god? Fine. Then I will do unto him as has been done unto all gods. I will silence him. I will shackle him. And I will unmake him in my image”

-

“And what are you?” Lavellan’s sharp eyes land on Cole. “You, the boy from Haven - you are different, now. Duller in new ways.”

“You remember,” Cole’s voice is so faint, so low, it might as well be the creaking of wind through the eaves.

Lavellan’s teeth gleam when she corrects him, “I do not forget.”

“Cole is a spirit,” Bull answers, “Solas says he was once Compassion.”

“And now?”

“Apathy,” Bull says.

Cole turns his face away from them, curling on himself in his corner. A gray thing.

Better this than the frantic mess he was before, Bull thinks. Sad as it is.

“And you?”

Bull looks back towards Lavellan. “Me?”

Her eyes scan him, reading every line of age and every fight and every moment since the fall of Haven and her supposed death.

“What are you?” She asks. “You did not return to your Qun.”

“Not much point, really,” Bull shrugs.

The Qun remains. But it is clear to see that the Qun is on the losing end of the fight. Their numbers dwindle, their forces idle, and their leadership faces constant struggle and doubt. The poison of doubt is killing them faster than the Venatori can.

“You remained here,” Lavellan says. “You and your Chargers chose to stay.”

“Couldn’t really go anywhere else, Boss,” Bull muses, “So it wasn’t much of a choice.”

“It was,” Lavellan replies, something easing up in her eyes, “Tell me, what do you believe? Why did you choose to stay here, to fight here? You could have returned to the Qun or struck out on your own. Why did you choose the Inquisition?”

Bull doesn’t know how to say that he didn’t want to leave his guys to go back to the Qun. He doesn’t know how to say that when the Qun called for him, he ignored it - by then it was already too late. He was already supporting a large chunk of the Inquisition since Cullen began to falter from withdrawal and the corrupting presence of the Red Lyrium, and the Chargers were quick to pick up the slack of their untrained forces.

He doesn’t know how to say that he kept thinking that the Qun’s efforts and mantras were falling short and crumpling in on themselves even as they continued to try and recruit and expand. He didn’t know how to say that out of all the stupidity and foolishness of every single crown and country fighting amongst themselves like empty headed children, at least the Inquisition had some sense to it left.

Bull doesn’t know how to say that after she was - pretty sensibly - assumed to be dead he didn’t know where to go, where to look, where to turn from there.

He doesn’t know how to say any of those things.

So he doesn’t.

“Standing orders,” Bull says instead.

(“Keep them safe, keep them level,” Lavellan turned away from him, “Get as many to safety as you can. I’m going back.”

“Got it, Boss,” Bull replied, already directing his Chargers to help get civilians towards the Chantry, to clear a path for soldiers and anyone else and to keep it open.

“Hold the line,” Lavellan said, “Until I’m back.”)

Lavellan’s pale and death-touched face blooms into a smile. Bull’s gut clenches and his hands jerk.

“Very good,” Lavellan breathes. “You’re still my man, then?”

“Dragons, demons, Venatori, death apparently,” Bull replies. “Which one first, Boss?”

“I’m thinking we start small,” Lavellan answers, “Ease ourselves back into things. Let’s start with the Avaar god in the South. That should be an adequate warm up for the main event.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth