#(cold; brutal; a ‘heart of iron’ - there are other reasons for this; and she’s certainly not a one-dimensional character

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Queens of Innis Lear

slow-moving political fantasy, retelling of the shakespeare tragedy king lear

set in a dying island kingdom, where the prophesy-obsessed king (having neglected the wild magic of the land) must pass on the crown to his three daughters

the elder two hate their father and have been planning their rule for years, and the youngest loves her father and does not want the crown- but does care for the magic of the land

but when the king makes an unforeseen decision, and other kingdoms and spies circle, vying for land and power of their own

earth magic, fate and duty, complicated sister relationships

[gshinisalesbian]

Midnight Moon

Kaeya x Reader (Part 1 of 3)

11

Living in Khaenri’ah was harsh and brutal. Those who could not fight would not survive, and even those who did survive would not do so for long. Children were so desperate for Mora and food that they would give their lives to train as spies before even hitting puberty.

Such was the same for you.

You had no parents, at least none that you knew of. It didn’t bother you at all. Most children in the land where the God’s turned away their eyes never knew such things as “family” or “home”. You weren’t special in that manner, and so you never felt like you were missing anything. Regardless, when you were 11, you decided you were tired of living on the streets. You knew the Gods would never help you, and that you were the only one who could help yourself.

So you, like many others, became a spy for Khaenri’ah. That was where you met him, Kaeya. His father had been a spy, so it seemed expected for him to become one too.

You didn’t associate with him much; you had no reason to. All you cared about was becoming stronger, so strong that the Gods would be forced to notice you. Your superiors eventually began to notice your growing power too, so it didn’t take long before you were considered the top of your class.

So really, it was no surprise when they started to prepare you and Kaeya, who’s “ranking” was just under yours, for a special mission.

12

“You’re still out training this late?” You heard a voice ask, stopping you current activity of slashing through wooden targets with your sword. You frowned, turning to see who had interrupted you.

Kaeya grinned at you, his hands placed on his hips. He had only recently hit puberty, his tan baby fat slowly growing into a strong face. His limbs were long and gangly, and his voice seemed uncertain of what octive it should be at.

Despite the oddness of his appearance, you had grown attached to him over the past year. Even though your superiors refused to tell you what your mission was, they made you train even harder than you had been for it. Their were many nights were you went to sleep with bruises littering your arms and dry tear stains on your cheeks.

But then, there was Kaeya.

After being told of your future assignment, the two of you had started to train together. You had started to look out for each other, making sure the other had enough to eat and went to sleep early enough. You even met his father, and even though you only felt coldness from him, you loved how excitedly Kaeya would talk about impressing him.

Smiling in recognition at the boy in front of you, you carefully placed the sword on the ground. “Yeah. I couldn’t sleep.” You moved closer to him, easily wrapping you arms around him.

He wrapped his arms around you waist, completing the hug and and smiling against your neck. Having hit puberty before him, you were just a brush taller than him, though you were sure that wasn’t going to last for long. You were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

“You could be doing something more interesting.” You heard his muffled tease reply.

You pulled away from him, glancing at him skeptically. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

He rolled his eyes in that playful manner he loved, grabbing your arm and dragging you away from the training area.

“Hey-! Kaeya, wait!”

“Hurry up!”

You rolled your eyes, walking faster as he pulled you to some unknown place.

“How did you find this place?” You gapped, eyes taking in the sight before you. It was high mountains surrounded by frozen valleys; there was a gentle nip in the air, a certain serenity that you could never feel in Khaenri’ah. “Where even is this place?”

“The border between Khaenri’ah and Snezhnaya.” Kaeya was sitting on the ground, his legs crossed and blue eyes watching only you. “Technically we aren’t supposed to be here, but what they don’t know won’t kill them,” he said with a small shrug.

You glared at him out of the corner of your eyes. “If this place wasn’t so beautiful, I would kill you.”

“Eh, go for it, my dearest partner.”

“Shut up.”

You watched the snow fall, trying to catch some in your hands. “It’s such a shame that these people follow the Cryo Archon’s rule. What has she ever done for them? The gods only know corruption and power.”

“I see your going into your rant about the Archons again,” Kaeya fondly replied with a playful laugh, though watched the snow himself curiously. “But you do have a point. Mondstadt would do anything for Barbatos, and he hasn’t been seen for years. Why do they worship a God who clearly doesn’t care for them?”

“Exactly!” You turned to him, a fire lit in your eyes. It was a strange thing to be passionate about, you knew. However, in Khaenri’ah, you had never known that divine love that people often described befitting an Archon. There was no Archon to watch over your home; it was every man for himself. You had been alone your whole life, until Kaeya came along.

You moved to sit down next to him, stretching out your legs in front of you. “And Rex Lapis only visits Liyue once a year. Even your father is better than that.” You scoffed, placing your head in the palm of your hand.

Kaeya frowned at that, but brushed aside the comment. “You know, people can say whatever that want about Khaenri’ah, but we get to choose our own lives and “fate” here. It’s not demanded of us by some Archon.”

You nodded in agreement, shooting him a small smile. “I’m glad. That I can choose my own fate.”

Kaeya let out a small laugh, an amused gleam in his eyes. “Yeah. Me too.”

A wave of silence washed over the two of you as you simply watched the snow fall down. Snezhnaya was truly beautiful, you thought, and you wondered what it would be like to live in a world where you could choose to go see it fully if you so desired. However, you were certain your surperiors would no hesitate to punish you if you even tried to do so.

“If you could go anywhere in Teyvat,” you heard Kaeya begin to ask, “where would you go?”

You considered the question, eyes turning to gaze up at the sky. You had never been anywhere outside Khaenri’ah, and even then, you had barely seen much of your own home. You had lived on the street for 11 years, but even then had stayed in the same area. Even now, you weren’t allowed to leave the training barracks or the watchful gazes of your superiors. This was the first time you had ever seen one of the “official” nations of Teyvat.

“Fontaine,” you answered eventually, thinking of the nation ruled by the Hydro Archon and the Goddess of Justice. “I’ve heard they have a lot of festivities there. It’s hard for common folk to ever see them, but I’ve heard that it’s still always so colorful and vibrate. It sounds so different from here.”

“I’ll take you there, some day,” you heard Kaeya promise, his voice steady and sure. “When we have enough Mora, we’ll go there together and see all the bright colors. The festivals too. We’ll be that rich.” Kaeya smiled, grabbing your hand near him as his blue eyes gazed into yours.

You smiled, a small laugh escaping your lips. “I’ll hold you to it.”

13

You and Kaeya were sent to Mondstadt, where you were supposed to secure intel for Khaenri’ah to use against them. Kaeya’s father had taken you there, anticipation building in your young body as the three of you made the long walk. You were finally seeing new horizons around you, and you felt so... free. You found it a bit ironic that you always looked down on Barbatos, the God of Freedom, and yet that was the only feeling that coursed through you as Mondstadt’s wind wove through your hair.

You glanced over at Kaeya, who seemed deep in thought. Over the past year, he had grown taller than you, his face and body slowly growing more defined, and his jaw sharper. His eyes had become more shadowed and masked, a result of the constant training he was put through.

You could say the same about yourself. You had learned how to bite your tongue and keep your thoughts buried inside you. You no longer talked so openly about your distastes for the Archons, and you no longer dared to sneak off again. The last time you had done so, when you and Kaeya snuck off to the border, your superiors had noticed you missing and had struck you until you could no longer stand. You were unable to see Kaeya for months, and the next time you saw him, you could no longer see the “him” you had known when you looked into his eyes. It all just seemed to be a facade, a well put together mask that he wore.

Still, you reconignzed the boy that you had grown close with still there, somewhere hidden behind the icy walls he had built, harsher than the snow falling that you had seen with him in Snezhnaya. You saw the boy that had promised to bring you to Fontaine one day, and you could not get rid of the fondness that settled over you.

Regardless, the two of you were to arrive at the Dawn Winery, where you would find a way to win the favor of Master Crepus and be taken in by him. His family was the most influential in all of Mondstadt, and you could certainly find out the nation’s darkest secrets through him.

Kaeya’s father kissed his forehead, shooting you a look out of the corner of his eye. “Be careful. Care for eachother.” That was all he said before you left you two, a pair of 13 year-olds with an impossible mission before them.

Terrified, you reached to your side and laced your fingers with Kaeya’s. You squeezed his hand tightly, trying to tame the pounding of your heart.

Whether to reassure you or himself, he squeezed back.

-

Here for Part 2!

[albino-whumpee]

An old thing 3

First Continued from here

Look, I´m embarrassed of how I came up with something as fucked up as this. I´m very sorry to the people who read the first version of this and I do hope you´re doing ok. It´s never my intention or objective to make anyone feel wrong with the things I do. There´s a reason my art style is soft.  So I send anyone who felt uncomfortable about this, an apology.  However, I wanna believe I can share this under the “No matter how rough and dark, stories need to be told” And well. I failed to process not ALL parts of the story need to be told. So here´s the censored version of it.

CW// public humilliation, Degrading language, Non Con, Dub Con, NS*W at times, dehumanization, past CSA mentioned and threatened/implied, grooming, electrocution, along, slavery, human trafficking, forced breeding, blood, whump of minors, attempted murder, manhandling, muzzles, creepy and explosive whumpers, physical and emotional abuse.

Everything will be tagged and if there´s tags to be added, tell me please.

Five months later, Layo didnt wanna touch Roahn as he was disgusted to touch pregnant women. Roahn had a big bump already. A medic had come over and had done analysis to her. Apparently she was expecting twins. Two boys. Shy was handcuffed in the other side of the cell, but he couldnt decide to be happy or horrified. His master, Dánae, looked beyond pleased.

“What if we keep one? We can educate him as if he was ours. But we gotta make sure he knows his place. And maybe when he’s older we could use him”

Layo looked delighted by her plan.

“What about the other?” He had asked her.

Danae reflected, looking at no point in particular and then said with a stone cold face “we will sell him just after he doesn’t need his mother’s milk anymore”

Listening to that conversation were the medic and the two slaves. Roahn started sobbing. Quietly almost unheard.

And Shy jerked on his restraints. He had a muzzle on, restricting his talking. But his eyes showed rage.

“What? The doggy feels sad for being separated from his pup? Dont make me laugh, Shy” Layo grinned “ahh, well its just ironic for you right?” He started, Shy picking up, jerked aggressively. His muscles getting tense. “Your twin brother… I had my eyes on you for quite a while. Its a shame you were split” Layo sighed Shy stood up pulling on his restraints. Danae was amused by his reaction. Shy was, well, shy. He never showed that aggressive part of himself. And certainly, Roahn was the most amused of them.

“What were you called at the club? The two stars? Oh! The twin stars! always with your star painted on your cheek. you looked adorable. You were like 12?”

Shy stopped revolving. The stage name having an impact on him.

“Quite the performance between you two and other people” Layo laughed “Then you were sold. Alone. To that old man, what was his name? He raped you often didnt he? Before dying he told me you would scream your brothers name: Ivan.”

Shy was silent again. His legs shaking.

“Ivan and Dimitri. The twin stars. Lovely names for just two slaves born from another slave and sold to do exactly the same…” Layo paused dramatically, eyes on him. “You went full circle didnt you, Dimitri?”.

Shy/Dimitri had lost it. If there was one thing that pushed all his buttons was his past. He pulled on his chains, so much he shattered them.

Layo and Danae were just a feet away from the cell. So before the man could even react Dimitri had already grabbed his white hair.

Danae screamed and went to help his husband but he was faster and slammed his head in the floor. Danae took out a teaser and pinched Shy, who brutally convulsed on the ground.

“SHY!” Roahn yelled in her chair as the doctor held her down. Trying to convince her it was too dangerous. She looked at the man’s face as he shook his head in a no. “Ill take care of this lady” the doctor told her. She was surprised by his kindness.

The man went to stop Danae from shocking his slave any longer.

“Please miss Dourson! Stop it! Miss Dourson you’re going to kill him!” The man said grabbing her.

“Shut up!” She shoved him away, the teaser flying off her hands.

“My love…” Layo said with his bloody nose “stop it”

Danae pulled him to her not minding the blood on her dress. “Dear! He was trying to kill you!”

“Yes…he was…” Layo said putting his head backwards. When the bleeding stopped he added “I loved his face” the man spat “rage…Ah~ what an adorable expression from the pup” Danae wanted to make some sense enter his head but was stopped before that “Ill teach him a lesson Dánae, leave it to me” he said in a smirk.

-

Later that night Roahn was on their mat, stressed out about Shy. He had been taken by two men. Unconscious and limp. Her pleas fell in deaf ears.

She massaged her bump, trying to sooth her anxiety.

The door slammed and Shy walked in with bruises on his face and shackled. He was with Layo who didnt have the decency to cover his dick.

He threw him to the ground, Shy barely having time to put his hands in front.

Layo kicked him in the back making him fall for good. He sat above him and grabbed him by the collar choking him a bit.

“Never forget you’re mine, Shy. If you want to live of course” he said letting his head hit the ground. He stood up grabbing him by the arm and threw him back to the cell.

“Dont you dare try to take off the shackles woman. Or you will have his corpse instead”

The man said going away.

Roahn looked at his body, and understood what had happened in those hours.

“Sh- Dimitri…?” Roahn held his face. He gave her a sad look. Roahn felt the cold metal of the shackles on her abdomen when she hugged him.

“Im sorry baby. Im sorry. Im so glad you’re back” she cried.

“C’mere” he said, Roahn stopped and Shy passed his linked arms to her back into a hug. “Dont cry, Roahn. Im ok” he said. His bruises were purple and enormous.

“We need to run away. We need to…”

“Yes we do. But we gotta wait. Can you wait?” He told her.

She doubted.

She didn’t want to wait.

But she said yes.

-

The twins were born. One after three minutes. Three minutes where Danae took the newborn on her arms.

Shy allowed it but in his heart he wanted to kill her.

The second baby was put into his arms. He saw him and started crying. He showed him to Roahn. And told her,

“For them. Soon”

—

Destiny works in mysterious ways.

Their plan was to escape the week before Cal was put up for sale. Taking Kit and running away through the basements windows.

However the night was going down smoothly when suddenly, at the garden just beside the basement, one of the guards of the auction place beat Dimitri up and dragged them back with the baby twins on his coworkers arms.

Roahn was beaten up this time too.

When she woke up, Kit was with Danae screaming and crying loudly, as Dimitri was receiving a CPR. He came back to life but the medic guarded him for two months.

During this time, Cal was sold.

Layo told her how much.

50,000 euros.

That was how much their baby was worth.

During those nights, Roahn mourned her son. She wasnt allowed to see Kit. Or Dimitri.

She was alone. And she was desperate.

When Dimitri healed and a few scars were added to his face, he came back to her. And they hugged for their children had been stripped away from them.

But he promised this wouldn’t happen again. This time they would think it through.

And they would be free.

[shnuggletea]

How about 16 x 75? Inuyasha and Kagome

16 plus 75 Prison AU and sharing a bed? We getting dirty now?? Okay, so Inuyasha x Kagome will be a nice change. Let’s see what you guys think and if you like it, I’ll continue it. Actually, kinda want to continue it anyway, it was A LOT of fun!! And I still have a lot more in my head to write for it so really this is just a snippet. Thank you for the ask @knowall7k, I really love this now lol. Here we go!!

Cell Mates

The tiny room had small stains on the floor and walls while the table before her wobbled with the slightest touch. It didn’t take much to figure out what sort of things happened in this room and it had she shaking the metal folding chair she was pushed into nearly an hour ago. She never should have gotten involved in those protests to end the internment camps. It would definitely not help her now.

Waiting was part of the game and secretly she hoped someone would soon enter and tell her to go home. After all, she’d been in her legal rights at those protests and she had done nothing wrong now. That is, nothing wrong if they didn’t look too close but even she wasn’t sure how much she had done...and how much she had screwed herself royally.

When the only door in the room opened, a stout man in a wrinkled suit walking in, and shut right after, her heart dropped into her toes. 

“Ms. Higurashi…”

“Doctor. Dr. Higurashi…”

“My name is detective Haims. I’d like to go over the events you...witnessed earlier this evening?” 

Setting a thick file before him, the detective looked down to hide his grin. Something Kagome caught and it had her stomach turning. 

“You were found with the victim, his blood all over your hands…”

“Yes, but I’m a Doctor. And I was there because he’s my friend...”

This time, he let her see his sneer, and it grew as he watched her squirm. “Funny, as a Doctor, I’m surprised you haven’t asked me how your patient is doing?”

She was caught because she knew exactly how the patient was doing. The look on the detective’s face didn’t help either. There was nothing she could say and her throat was sealed up with too much saliva even if she did. 

“He survived. Doing really well actually. Thanks to you.”

The anxiety she had lessened, finding the back of her chair instead of holding herself rigidly. “He’s okay?”

“Yeah. But you knew that, didn’t you? You’re very talented.”

“I just do what I can…”

“Now, he claims he was shot in the heart?”

“In the chest, yes.” ‘Actually, he was shot near his heart’, she thought, ‘if he’d been shot in the heart, he’d be dead’. 

“So you confirm that? You confirm that a,” he opened and glanced at the name in the file, “Hojo Akitoki was shot, in the chest, and that you, Kagome Higurashi, took life-saving actions as a doctor?”

‘Something didn’t feel right.’ She thought. “Yes.”

“Good. That’s what I have here from Mr. Akitoki as well. And that’s what this statement says if you could just sign it.”

Pen poised, she skimmed over the typed paper and he waited patiently. If she was looking for a trap in the words, she wouldn’t find one. It read everything that happened, there was no trick in the wording or anything. 

A fast scribble and he was on his feet at her side. “On your feet, Higurashi. You’re under arrest.”

“Wait, what??! Why?! I didn’t do anything…”

“Because Mr. Akitoki has no wounds. No marks, holes, bruises. It’s as if he was never shot but we know he was. So either he’s a demon or you are.”

The color drained from her face and he grinned as he watched. He had her now. Her blood ran cold, she had messed up, royally. “Look, detective…”

“Hands behind your back.”

Her greatest fears were coming to life. Ones she had for years and had been so careful. “I’m not a demon, I swear!”

“Shut the hell up, Monster.”

“Just ask Hojo! He’ll tell you I’m not a de…”

When she still didn’t shut up, he hit her as hard as he could, backhanding her. She felt the skin of his hand cut against her teeth, her mouth still open when he struck her. Now in shock, the pain exploding in her cheek and eye, she had no words. Her brain was frozen in fear from the brutality. 

“Mr. Akitoki is the son of Senator Akitoki. You know the one who supported the anti-demon movement for the last ten years?! Don’t expect any help from your so-called friend. Should’ve drunk his blood when you had the chance!”

She stumbled, shoved harshly along now. Out of the room but far from free, face after face held a glare or disgust as she passed. The detective took several ‘high fives’ as he passed, the atmosphere completely different between them in the same hall. 

When they turned down another hall, a rusty door at the end of it, she finally got her wits about her. “Wait, where are you taking me?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

She did and now her heart pounded painfully with horror-filled panic. “You can’t! You can’t take me there!! I’m not a demon! They’ll eat me alive if you take me there!!!”

“I bet they’ll eat a sweet thing like you regardless. But that’s where you’re going and if you know what’s good, you’ll shut UP! And GET IN THE VAN!!!”

Door opened wide, she struggled in his hold. He laughed, loving how she was still dumb enough to fight before throwing her inside. The ‘van’ had benches along the side with an armed guard at the very back. The gun he held wasn’t a joke and he had it aimed at her from the start. 

There was no indication of male or female with the guard inside the van, the heavy armor and black helmet gave them anonymity. She could still see the nervous shift in the guard’s movements and so could detective Haims. 

“She’s leashed, no worries.” 

He assured the guard, the cuffs cutting into her wrists and clamping her gifts. She knew what they were as soon as he put them on, she could feel it and knew the stories. The means taken to suppress demons was barbaric at best.

She thought the guard didn’t believe his coworker, because he got up and grabbed the cuffs that held her hands firmly at her lower back. But then he pulled her up from the floor by them. Her scream from the agony he caused was ignored as he sat her down on a bench and latched her cuffs to something behind her. 

“Have fun. And make friends!” Detective Haims taunted before slamming the door shut behind. 

Now in darkness, she only had the hum of the wheels on the road to comfort her. Which they didn’t. 

                                                            oOo

Her cuffs were removed once inside but something wasn’t right about this place. The thick concrete walls were suffocating as if the air was pumped in from somewhere else instead of flowing in naturally. The place was completely sealed up and not even a breeze could penetrate. 

It felt as if there was something pressing on her chest. It wasn’t painful and it was slight but it was enough for her to notice. Maybe she was getting sick. She certainly would be soon. Everyone had a general idea of what the demon camps were like. They were like the prisons back before the reform. There was no leaving once in unless lifeless. With it taking so long for most demons to die and the overcrowding a few years ago, the purge of 06 had many demons leaving their imprisonment in body bags. 

All of this was done to them by simple humans like her and here she was getting tossed in with them? All she had done was save some lives and kept to herself as much as possible. Her protests years were in her past, doing many back in college when she didn’t have a career to concern herself with. 

The guard with her now was female but she didn’t go easy on her. The worst was the cavity searches. Kagome knew they could and should lube the long instrument they used. But the sneer on the guard’s face told her it was intentional. As was the chuckle the burly woman released when she squirmed from the uncomfortable pressure. 

At least they gave her something to wear, her clothes stripped from her and probably burned. A pair of white scrubs was given to her and it was easy to pretend this was a dream. That she had fallen asleep in the break room at work even if the scrubs she wore now were over-starched compared to her own. 

Two guards escorted her and as they passed the other, very much full, cells she was called after. 

“Hey Baby!!”

“Look over here, let me see your face!”

She ignored the rest after that, keeping her gaze in front of her. One thing she couldn’t help but notice, besides the sheer number of creatures in the place, was the rainbow of colors. Everyone had a different colored uniform from hers. Which was why she took notice to one call and what it could possibly mean.

“LOOK! We got a WHITE!!!”

There was excitement in the air that she didn’t like. Never once had she agreed with the treatment of demons in this or other countries, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid now enclosed with so many of them. Just like humans, there were good and bad demons and these encampments didn’t differentiate. Or care if they ripped another demon to pieces, one less for them to worry about. 

Everyone knew the purge was handled by other demons, ones promised freedom for their work but double-crossed. Was she now imprisoned with anyone involved in that? It was possible, she had been young but demons lived a long time. Another reason the public feared them. 

The guard before her came to a halt and opened a cage while the one behind her shoved her in. It was dark, dawn still several hours away and it was ‘lights out’ apparently. Even with all the voices calling out to and about her, the sound of the bars slamming shut was deafening. Just inside her new home, with only a sheet and a single thin pillow in her hands, it was hard not to feel it all crashing down on her now. But then her bed in the corner moved and spoke. 

“Hey...HEY!!!”

It flew past her in a blur of white and red. Palms smacked the iron bars again and again right behind her while her brain struggled to keep up.

“Hey, Fuckers! Don’t leave her in here!! This cell is occupied!!!”

Glancing back, she took in the man that stood behind her cursing, but all she could make out was the wild and long white hair as it curtained his face and back.

“Yeah,” called back one of the guards, “and now it’s a double room! Enjoy your snack!”

So she was this man’s snack? Fear that had never really left renewed, racing up her spine and making her nauseous. This was where and how she was going to die? It was far from what she imagined for herself but who really imagined their death?

Slowly, the man calmed and turned to her. Her breath caught in her throat when glowing, gold eyes bore into hers. They didn’t stay for long, going down her body instead and taking her in. She didn’t know what was worse, her fear of her impending death or the VERY good looking man that now looked her over harshly.

“Judas Priest, they’re putting weaklings in here now?! How the hell did you even get caught??” 

Kagome had to stop herself from smacking the guy but did nothing to hide her irritation of him. “You don’t know me! Stop acting like you’re so smart!”

One of his brows twerked up towards his hairline, the dark hair contrasting greatly with his other locks. Then he faced her full, quickly backing her up to the cold, hard wall of the cell. Her hands flew out in a foolish effort to keep him back but he did stop once her palms touched his chest.

“It doesn’t take much to know an idiot when I see one. Damn White talking back to me like she’s a Red like me? Clearly, you’re a fucking tool so be smart and keep your mouth shut unless you really want someone here to eat you.” He left her to cower in her place between the bars and the wall, cornered in more ways than one. “There’s only one bed. You can sleep on the floor.”

Maybe there was a way to salvage this? This guy was her roommate for some unknown reason and length of time. It would be bad if they weren’t even nice to one another right?

“I’m..I’m Kagome, by the way.”

“Feh, and I don’t give a shit.”

The single bed squeaked as he fell to it, the conversation and any possible ones in the future squashed. She probably should try and keep to herself from now on. God, how long would she have to do that? How long was she going to be trapped in this nightmare?

Dropping to the floor, she kept to her corner. Tossing her pillow, Kagome laid down in her corner to sleep like a dog. Covering her mouth with both palms while she wept herself to sleep.

Well? That’s all for now, let me know if I should bother to keep it going!

[dragonagecompanions]

Could I request a Teen!Quizzy nervously coming out as lgbtq+ to the companions (bonus if you include advisors) and then they admit they were terrified of coming out to the companion because they were terrified they'd disown them (with the implications that their family had disowned them for coming out)? My adopted child just came out to me and I want them to feel extra supported since i know they follow this blog (do your homework, poppet)

Poppet, if you are reading this, you have utterly failed the instructions in this ask.

Cassandra: At the risk of sounding uncaring or cold, Cassandra simply could not care less who the Inquisitor is attracted to. They are too young to be courting, and anyone who decides to risk the wrath of the Seeker will have an ardous path ahead of them. That being said she makes sure they are aware of her unwavering support, and gives them stern instructions to direct all detractors to her doorway.

Solas: With all the concerns this world is facing, denying a child for who they love seems so asinine as to be utterly idiotic. Whoever they choose to love, Solas will encourage, if only to ensure they make the best of the time they have left. And any one who decides that his Da’len is wrong is due for a rather unpleasant surprise from the Inquisition’s resident fade expert.

Blackwall: Like their seeker Blackwall is convinced their young leader is not ready for relationships, but he also remembers the brutal years of puberty, and the first stirrings of puppy love. If they have their eye or heart set on the same sex that’s all and good-- the South has never been so judgemental on that, after all. So long as they are safe and happy and still getting a chance at the capricious years of youth the would-be Warden is content. 

And anyone else can take their opinions up with the backside of his hand.

Vivienne: What a positively drab reason to denounce a child. Truly, darling, it lacks imagination and verve. Better the herald was away from all that, and among the more metropolitan influences of their Inner Circle. Orlais has never demanded love go hidden, after all, and the youing inquisitor attending a fete or party with an inamorato would certainly bring the right kind of attention. She will speak to her tailors.

Sera: Big people with big mouths don’t know shite. Love’s love, yeah, and that’s that, and arrows to anyone who disagrees.

Dorian: How many times, oh how many times had his younger self yearned for a confidant who could be trusted with so great a secret. The necromancer understands more than perhaps anyone other how frightening the confession can be, and despite his own nerves he does his best to give them the answer he himself would have wanted, and to assure them that this does not change who they are or what they can become. 

And then later, over a rather large glass of wine, weeps for both what he has found and lost.

Iron Bull: It doesn’t matter who or whom their Herald states an attraction to; as soon as they come to him with the news that they have noticed other people their age exist the Ben-Hassrath agent sits them down somewhere private and gives the Talk of a lifetime. No matter their gender he covers safety and well being for whatever they might run up against, and hammers in the importance of consent and respect above all. 

At the end of it their Herald may likely never look at another person again, but the Iron Bull can rest easy knowing he’s done his part.

Varric: Honestly, it’s such an old fashioned thing to harp on. If their Herald wants to love someone he’s all for letting them. Not only are they going through enough as it is, but the profits from the book deal will be astronomical. 

And Bianca supports them too. Mostly against people who don’t.

Cole: The spirit is of very little help, besides being a constant source of embrassasment for the young leader, but their guardians take to listening for clues as to who exactly needs a shovel talk.

Cullen: He’s given this talk to young mages and young templars before, and in truth it is perhaps the only part of bringing up the young herald that he is the most comfortable with. Like the Iron Bull he focuses on health and safety- though with particularly less time spent on...technique- and makes sure they have no questions before letting them go-- with the assurance that nothing between them has changed.

Josephine: Well, this is certainly useful for sorting out the preemptive courting requests from noble families with children of similar ages. THey have made her job easier, though she promises that they have no intention of marrying off the Inquisitor without their express permission and blessing. For the meantime she is honored they trusted her with this, and she ensures their herald that they are not at all alone in their preferences.

And any nobles who take umbrage to this fact suddenly found themselves housed in the coldest, draftiest, easiest to prank parts of Skyhold...

Lelianna: She’s known. Very little gets past her. For the most part she lets the other companions take on this task, but if the Herald comes to her she is quietly supportive, and offers the discreet delivery of love notes if they so require. It makes it easier to track their activity of course, but having been a lovesick teen herself once or twice she also geniunely wants to help.

And anyone who has differing ideas on who their herald shouold love is quickly silenced....one way or another.

Seriously, Poppet?! Homework, now!

-Mod Fereldone

[project-ohagi]

Keiji Akaashi x Reader {Haikyuu!!}

The grace with which he had been blessed was astounding, even to his upperclassmen. You always searched for him in the onslaught during break and lunch, hoping against hope that he would gaze your way. His politeness and the blunt way he voiced his opinions were surely going to be your downfall; every time he opened his mouth, your heart began pounding in your chest, and all the blood in your system would surge to your ears and cheeks. The sound of blood swirling around your head almost drowned out your love's magnificent voice. Almost. Once, he caught you zoned-out, on cloud nine, and questioned the intensity of your blush. The handsome setter thought that perhaps you were ill and seeking medical attention. Afterwards, he seemed to make a routine of greeting you every morning, and on the off-chance you happened to meet in the hallways.

Although he never appeared too interested in physical contact, his friend was incredibly touchy-feely. It humoured you for a while, but gradually, the amusement was replaced with fury - that was your man, your gorgeous specimen, and no matter how close those two were, Bokuto was not getting Keiji. You dedicated an entire journal to learning and recording his habits, mannerisms, likes and dislikes, as well as any other helpful bits of information. You wanted to know everything.

Sitting behind him in class had its advantages, because he couldn't tell that you were writing about him, and from your angle, you could garner his mood from the movement of his upper body alone. You didn't need to be an expert at deciphering facial expressions. You were quickly becoming a master on the topic of Keiji Akaashi. Following him also worked in your favour - the way he stood (hands interlocked behind his back) was utterly adorable, so you started copying it. You would try out the things you knew he liked, and also considered joining the girls' volleyball team. However, that way there would be less chance of you seeing his matches up close.

You examined his character in more depth, exploring how he talked to, and acted around, his classmates and team mates. His closest confidante was indeed Bokuto, but you feared that striking up a conversation would lead to some weird places. He was such a loud, rambunctious individual, and you couldn't risk the exposure. Not when you were so near to completing your most daring, yet most exciting plan. It needed perfecting and executing, but that was now only a matter of days. Keiji was quiet, but certainly not shy. Heck, you weren't exactly sure he was capable of reading the mood, but all his little quirks combined to make him so incredibly endearing.

Your Romeo was far more special and charming than anyone else in your life, and you were prepared to go to some insane lengths to keep him caged. Ten foot tall iron bars, and an ivory roof would surely sedate him. He would look so handsome, so perfectly submissive, splayed out amongst your sheets. His hands would turn a hot white as he gripped them, trying to chain himself to reality. The poor thing wouldn't know what to do, lying and trembling beneath you. Nothing would be veiling his perfection from your eyes, so they could feast on what they saw, and it would satisfy them for life.

A sticky white liquid would dribble down his stomach, having been shot out a short while earlier, when your lips closed around his throbbing member, and sultry moans filled the room. Keiji's soft, haggard sounds would be music to your ears - a choir of angels, and your legs would further entrap him. Lining his member up with your aching hole, you would sheathe him inside, relishing in the sudden, pleasure-induced moan that escaped his lips. It would be throaty, in his lustful haze. Leaning forwards, you would forcefully press your lips together, coaxing his tongue out to play. At some point, he might gain control, turning the tide of dominance. Pinning you to the bed, perhaps he would will you to beg, to plead for his glorious sex. He might release you, or he could make you suffer. Maybe he would pull out, so that only the tip remained, or perhaps he would even deny your orgasm, as punishment for screwing with him. Would he do that?

Licking your lips, you imagined all the possibilities, ranging from soft sex to rough sex, to no sex at all. It was entirely plausible that, once he gained the upper hand, he would tie you against the bed, stranding you until morning, or whenever someone decided to walk in and found your naked, or semi-naked body, shaking from the cold, desiring nothing but Keiji Akaashi.

Then again, Fukurōdani would provide the best environment. Plus, it would be much easier to find and lure your prey in a place that he felt comfortable. You might be able to find a jump rope to tie his hands, and maybe the gymnasium's storeroom would be a good spot to launch an attack. However, first came the annoying part: removing Keiji's larger-than-life friend from the picture. You didn't really have to go to the extreme of killing him, but that was always a viable option. No, you could just get someone to help you take his attention off Keiji, and go home by himself. He was constantly hoarding your beloved, never letting you get too close. You could have even sworn he glared at you once, for attempting to limit the space between yourself and the setter. Regardless, he had to go, if only for a few hours.

You crossed your legs, well aware that you were growing too aroused, from your fantasies alone. The object of your (obsessive) affections tilted his head in concentration. You loved this, because it meant that he was working really hard. He was incredibly smart, but never boasted about his grades. You adored his humility. The temperature had risen significantly in the past few minutes, but you hadn't noticed, since you spaced out. However, the heat seemed to affect Keiji, as his blazer was draped gracefully over the back of his chair, and you could see the sweat rolling down his neck. In that moment, all remaining reason flooded out, and you had to stab your hand with a sharpened pencil, just to stop yourself from leaning in and lapping up the substance. Glancing at the clock, you realised that there were less than ten minutes left. You sighed in relief. Keiji's dark eyes flicked to the side, catching a glimpse of your flustered state. He would attest to being concerned. You were a classmate, after all.

He looked back towards the teacher, listening with one ear. The notes in his book were becoming more and more confusing - his focus was wavering, as he tried to disperse it between you and the lesson. He always appeared so cool, so collected, able to dish out the most brutally honest comments without batting an eye, but, a slight panic was building in his stomach. It twisted unnaturally, bringing him to the brink of nausea. Although, no-one would be able to tell, not even if they invaded his personal space, like Bokuto. The extraordinarily beautiful setter often noticed you staring, out of the corner of his eye, but he never said anything. You seemed quite timid, since you scarcely talked to anyone, so he didn't necessarily want to make you uncomfortable. However, while he thought that you kept your head down and got work done, you actually had a very different, very special reason for scribbling in your book, only sparing two or three glances towards the teacher.

Earlier, you had been in the process of writing out, and testing, various methods of torture/execution. You see, Keiji had a bad habit of being friendly around the girls at school. Well, he was an incredibly amiable person anyway, but, much like Aobajōsai's setter, he had a fanclub. They were absolutely obsessed with him.

Although, they could never love Keiji like you did.

Their president was a small-ish, brown-haired female, who compensated for her height by donning these ridiculous, strictly prohibited heels, which gave her a few more inches. She had a horrible, toxic sort of personality, and a smile that could wipe out an entire species. For her, you implemented a very special, very inhumane plan. One day, during lunch, you asked her (privately) about joining the Keiji Akaashi Fanclub. She was thrilled to have yet another member, and she entrusted you with all sorts of written documents, ready and waiting for your signature. The two of you had a clandestine meeting, because you wanted to 'show' her something. You shrugged off all her guesses. There was a spring in your step, and a happy giggle bubbling in your throat. In your bag, an iron contraption sat amongst your school supplies. After placing it (with much force) on her head, and twisting it violently, almost breaking the poor girl's jaw before the fun really started, you hauled her into the furnace.

She had been your first victim.

Proceeding her, were five more members of that detestable, and frankly annoying, club. When they were dealt with, you transitioned into Phase 2, which primarily involved the possible abduction, and definite enchantment, of your love: Keiji Akaashi. So now, you were in class, gazing dreamily at him, and wondering about your plan. It needed a touch more...flavour, so it would, unfortunately, have to wait. At least until tomorrow.

The bell rang, and freedom had never tasted so sweet. Thankfully, your chosen methods of extermination required minimal bloodshed, so nothing was visible on your clothes. Just as you packed away your items, and got out of your chair, a mildly concerned-looking Keiji blocked your view of the door. You recognised a slight imbalance in his stance, indicating that something was troubling him.

"(L/n)-san." He addressed, nonchalantly.

Your response was almost too quick. "Yes, Kei-Akaashi-kun?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Did you need me for something? You're always staring. It can be confusing."

"Ah..." You guessed he stopped himself from saying 'annoying'. "I can tell you tomorrow, maybe?" You muttered, attempting to stall for time.

Shaking his head, he spoke, "Please tell me now."

This was happening far too suddenly, yet you weren't about to let this opportunity slide. "Um...well, I could tell you on the way back? We go the same way, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, we do. Let's go then." His fingers brushed past yours, causing your skin to prickle.

Right, cool. Just keep this momentum, and everything will go smoothly.

While walking, you spotted him fumbling with his fingers - something he did quite frequently. It wasn't really a sign of anxiety, but you found it adorable. His gunmetal blue eyes were fixated on the road ahead, and his lips had long since been sealed. You desperately needed to take action, otherwise, if your actual strategy did not work, you would completely fail. You couldn't let him go home, but it would seem really strange if you asked him to join you for a cup of tea, or something to that effect. Whilst you were pondering this dilemma, droplets of water dripped down on to your hair and clothes, thoroughly wetting both of you. Since your house was close, and you lived alone, this was the perfect opportunity to invite him inside. Silently, you thanked whatever god was out there, listening to your prayers.

The two of you hurried inside, grabbing some towels and shaking yourselves off. Your (e/c) eyes glimpsed his shirt, now transparent due to exposure to the rain. Gulping, you averted your gaze, attempting not to grow too aroused. Keiji looked around, seeing nothing he didn't expect. Your hallway was pretty barren, to be honest, because everything of personal value was compiled in your room. That is to say, you had lots of...helpful tools.

"Thank you. I figured it might rain, so I gave my umbrella to Bokuto-san." He nodded politely.

Sighing, you stated, "You do so much for him."

"He's our captain. If he loses his cheerful nature, he won't be as good in practise." He clarified, not seeming to understand why you suddenly sounded quite out-of-sorts.

I need some love too, y'know?

You smiled. "I get that. Sorry, I wasn't trying to offend you."

He followed your lead, walking slowly behind you. "It's alright. I should have brought another umbrella, so you didn't get wet."

"It was inevitable."

I'm always wet when you're around, Keiji.

"I apologise anyway." He bowed, halting his movements.

You stopped outside your bedroom door. "Then, how about you make it up to me?"

[slashthedice]

Michael Myers sparing your life after killing everyone around you prompt maybe? NSFW if you do not mind writing that, too. :) (Sorry for all the asks, but I fell in love w/ your blog.

Hi! You are too sweet to me! Thanks so much for all your amazing requests, I’ve had so much fun writing for them :) I know I’m not the first to do this sort of thing, but I wrote this in the context of Dead by Daylight because I’ve been watching my roommate play way too much. Hope that’s okay! Also, I definitely do not mind writing NSFW ;3c This is kind of a long one, so I’m going to crosspost it on AO3.

This wasn’t your first time in Haddonfield. Actually, as of late, the Entity had seemed particularly fond of setting you loose in the nightmarish neighborhood streets. You were now intimately familiar with the eerie glow of the street lamps and the flashing lights of the unoccupied and inoperable police cruiser. However, this time was not like the others. This time you had begun the trial with a strange crushing feeling in your chest, not unlike a cold vice wrapped around your heart. You had had this feeling described to you by other survivors, and it was never a good sign.

You found yourself in the unique position of obsession.

You supposed that you should have known this was coming. You had been eluding the Shape again and again, trial after trial for much longer than was probably reasonable. Everytime he was close to finally catching and killing you, you managed to escape. Hopping down the hatch, slipping through the gates just in time, dropping pallets on him when his reaching hand was mere inches from you. Last time, you had used a little trick Laurie had taught you, taking a shard of glass you had tucked away into your waistband and jabbing it into his shoulder, giving you just enough time to slip away. You were sure that for a killer as prolific as he was your continued escapes must have been infuriating.

You had admittedly begun to enjoy the repeated game of cat and mouse the two of you were playing. The rush of adrenaline you got when you saw that familiar mask staring back at you was exhilarating, and you secretly loved the way your heart pounded when you heard his heavy breathing behind you as he chased you through the streets. These were things you would never admit to another survivor. Hell, you had a hard enough time admitting it to yourself.

This time though, you didn’t feel that familiar rush as you realized where you were. You hadn’t seen him yet, but you knew who the killer was. As you crouched beside a generator, you felt more tense than you had going into a trial in a long time. You felt like you were on the edge of something. This time was most certainly different, and it wasn’t just because it was your first time as the obsession. There was some energy in the air, and it crackled through your mind and body.

You were barely halfway done with repairing the generator when you heard the first scream in the night air. It was not the scream of someone being put on the hook, it was a final dying shriek, a warning sent out into the night to let other prey know that a predator was here and they were looking to kill. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end and goosebumps covered your arms.

You continued to look over your shoulder every few seconds, looking for a flash of white or the glint of a blade. You felt relief wash over you as Claudette emerged from around the side of the house. You gave her a nod as she came closer and began to help with repairs.

“He killed Nea,” she whispered to you. “We didn’t even see him coming, he just pulled her off the generator and killed her.”

“I’m the obsession,” you admitted quietly.

She gave you a pitying look. If he was already being this brutal with his kills, you both wondered what was in store for you.

“Who else is left?” You asked. You felt bed, but you hoped it was Laurie. She was crafty and more than capable of escaping him, but more than that they had encountered each other before the Entity’s realm, and Michael always took the time to hunt her down. That might just give you and Claudette enough time to finish the generators and open the gates.

“I think it’s Jake,” she responded.

So much for that plan, you thought bitterly.

Just as the two of you were finishing up your repairs, you heard the tell-tale sound of another generator starting up a ways away. Jake must have finished the generator Nea and Claudette had been working on before. Not long after your generator clicked on, however, you heard that same horrible scream you had before. Frozen fear flooded through your veins and you shared a terrified look with Claudette.

Too soon, it was all too soon. The trial had barely just begun and already you were the final two survivors. You hadn’t even seen the Shape yet.

The two of you split off in different directions. There really was no safety in numbers here. You slipped into a house, conscious of the aged wooden floor beneath your feet and any sounds it may make. With your heart in your throat, you made your way up the stairs, hoping to find a generator in one of the rooms on the second story.

Much to your relief, you found one and got to work. You could only hope that Claudette was doing the same. That would mean that the two of you only had one more to complete before you could make your escape and forget all about the strange feeling you had had all trial. You tried to calm the trembling of your fingers as you pulled, pushed, and prodded to force parts back into place.

You heard the ding of another generator coming to life and felt a rush of relief. You finished your generator quickly enough, and headed to the window to see if you could find Claudette, or even Michael. At least if you could spot him you would know where not to go.

You had barely poked your head up over the windowsill before you spotted your fellow survivor. She was sneaking around the side of the house you were in towards the front. If she could just make it a little further, she would be behind the cover of the shrubbery in the front of the yard. Just a few more feet…

He materialized from the shadows as if he were made from the fog itself. With all the grace of a panther stalking its prey in the night, he fell upon her too fast for you to even warn her. You watched with an open mouth as the blade sailed through the air, reflecting the flashing red and blue lights as it went. Claudette shrieked when the weapon carved through her back, sending her sprawling across the grass.

You could do nothing but watch as Michael lifted her with a hand under her chin into the air. You spotted the blade once more only to watch it sink into your friend with a wet sound. He withdrew it from her slowly, torturously, only to drive it right back into her frantically struggling form. She made a sickening gurgling sound and then was silent. Everything was silent except for the frantic pounding of your own heart

You knew you should move. You needed to get out of the house and to the hatch that had surely appeared somewhere, but you could do nothing but stare down at the Shape as he threw your friend’s lifeless corpse to the ground. He loomed over the body, motionless in this mimicry of a suburban neighborhood.

And then he raised his head.

You could see nothing in the unfathomable blackness visible through the eye holes in the mask, but you knew that he was staring right back at you. You felt his freezing gaze stop you in place, and a thrill went through your paralyzed form. You knew then that things had never been more different than they were in this trial. Michael was done playing games with you.

You could have sworn that you only blinked and he was gone, freeing you from your temporary paralysis. You made a beeline for the stairs, almost sliding past them in your rush. You found yourself frozen once more as you stared down the steps. Michael was at the bottom, and he was staring right back up at you. You turned and bolted back towards the window, but he was faster than you. You dove forward to throw yourself through the open portal, but you weren’t even halfway through when you felt a large hand grab the back of your shirt.

Your back hit the ground hard, and before you could even think about scrambling to your feet a large boot was planted on your stomach, knocking the air from your lungs and effectively pinning you in place. You tried to squirm out from beneath, clawing at his ankle and pushing at his calf, but he may as well have been made of stone for how little he moved. You looked up to find the impassive mask that you had learned to fear staring back at you. His head was tilted slightly to one side as he watched you struggling.

Then, faster than a lightning strike, one of his massive hands was around your throat and you were hoisted into the air.

He finally had you. You kicked your legs wildly as you tried to pry at the iron grip he had around your throat. You knew your struggling was merely a futile last ditch effort in a war of attrition, but you couldn’t just go limp and wait for the cold steel of his knife to pierce your abdomen. But that never came.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were dangling about a foot off the ground with your vision slowly going dark due to air loss, and the next you were pinned to the wall by a hard body. You saw him raise the large butcher’s knife above his head and you were sure it was about to find its home in your chest, but when it came arcing down towards you you felt no pain and instead found it embedded a few inches deep into the wall next to your head. Your eyes widened as you looked up at the ever impassive mask, his normally heavy breathing seemed to be even heavier now, the sound reverberating behind the rubber face close to panting. He pressed against you harder and his hips ground into yours.

Oh. OH. Well, that was unexpected.

You were at a loss. You had known there was tension between yourself and the killer, but you hadn’t realized that it was this kind of tension. Yet here you were, pinned to a wall with him basically rutting against you, but as much as you wanted to you couldn’t find it in yourself to dislike the situation. In fact, your feelings on the matter were very much the opposite.

You gasped and gripped Michael’s forearms when one of his strong thighs pressed between your legs, forcing you up onto your tiptoes just to reach the ground. You resisted the urge to grind yourself against him. He leaned into you more, masked face pressing into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You heard him inhale deeply, almost like he was taking in your scent, but you couldn’t imagine he could smell much more than latex from inside the white rubber. He seemed to realize the same thing.

His calloused hands found their way to your hips, lifting you off his thigh and stepping back slightly. For one heart stopping moment you thought that he had changed his mind and was going to kill you, but as soon as that thought crossed your mind, you found yourself flipped around with your face shoved up against the old, peeling wallpaper. He shoved his leg back between your thighs, and you couldn’t help the heated sound that escaped you as he pressed against you with a bit more pressure than before. One of his hands left your hips and found its home against the back of your neck, ensuring that you could not move or turn your head.

A rush of heat burned its way through your body. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this close to someone, let alone someone that could toss you around so easily. This was a terrible idea, possibly one of the worst you had ever had. You could smell the coppery scent of blood surrounding you, and you knew it had to belong to your friends, but his proximity had your head swimming and you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The hand that wasn’t pinning you in place began to wander, pushing up your shirt to explore the heated skin of your stomach and ribs, continuing northward to force its way between your chest and the wall. He cupped your clothed breast in his rough hand, and you choked on the moan that bubbled up in your throat. He took note of this, and if you didn’t know better you would have sworn you heard a low sound of approval come from him.

His hand slithered back down your abdomen to press firmly between your hips and drag you backwards so that your ass was directly against the burning, hardened length of him. You felt a spike of anxiety shoot through you. From what you could feel against your backside, he was big. It made sense, you supposed, the rest of him was huge so it makes sense that his dick would be the same. Though your mind cried out about logistics and potential pain, your traitorous body was abuzz with excitement and your cunt was near dripping at the thought of Michael inside you.

You wiggled your hips back against him. He responded by tightening his hold on the nape of your neck and growling in your ear, the feral sound vibrating in his chest and through your body. You let loose a litany of wanton, needy sounds. You were completely overwhelmed by the heat coursing through you. You needed him, and you needed him now.

“Please,” you begged, hoping he understood what you were asking.

You could have cried with relief when his hand slipped around the front of your body and his nimble fingers found the clasp of your jeans. You were more than happy to help him drag the fabric barrier along with your panties down your hips and over your ass so that you could shimmy them down your legs and finally kick the offending material away. You expected him to immediately free himself from his bloodsoaked coveralls and push inside you.

You were pleasantly and genuinely surprised when you felt his fingers swipe along your slickness. When he came to your entrance, he shoved a finger inside forcing you to bite down on the inside of your cheek to quiet a gasp. A second finger joined the first and you thrashed against his hold. It was too much. You were so full with only his fingers inside you. His hold on you never wavered, and the curling of his fingers had you panting. When the heel of his hand dragged against your clit you sucked in a breath and shuddered against him.

As the minutes ticked by and his attentions to your weeping pussy continued, that oh so familiar tightness built in your core and sparks of pleasure shot through your limbs. You were so unbearably close. You babbled out pleas for him to let you have your release, crying his name and trying desperately to force his fingers deeper and his palm harder against you. You thought he would take mercy on you and finish you off, but just as you began to tip over that precipice into bliss, he withdrew.

You whined at the loss as the pleasure ebbed, but the sound of a zipper being undone and fabric rustling filled you with renewed heat. You wanted to see him, but the vice grip on your neck dashed any hope of that happening. All disappointment was chased from your scattered thoughts when you felt the blunt head of him at your soaking entrance.

Once he had lined himself up, his fingers grasped your hip with a strength that would surely leave bruises. He pulled you down hard onto him, and you keened. You had been more right than you realized about his size. If you thought you were full with just his fingers inside you, you were sure now that you would burst at the seams any second.

His forehead found your shoulder, and you could feel the harsh puff of his heavy breaths escaping through the thin mouth of the mask. He drew back out of you with a brutally slow pace, the head of his cock dragging over your overwrought walls and drawing a moan from your lips. He slammed back in without warning and the air was forced from your lungs. With that he was off, setting a punishing pace and preventing you from ever really catching your breath.

Every thrust forced your face harder against the wall, and you knew your cheek would be bruised by the end of this encounter. As he drilled you into the hard surface, you began to feel that same warmth coiling inside you, only this time it was approaching much more rapidly. You gasped and moaned, his name peppered into the pleased noises you were making. Before the anticipation and impatience could drive you crazy, you peeled one of your hands away from the wallpaper and let you fingers find your clit, rubbing quick circles around the bundle of nerves.

You knew Michael was getting close based on the way his fingertips dug further into the flesh of your hip and his breathing hitched. He grunted, a sound deep in his throat that was impossibly loud. Then his hand at your neck disappeared, followed by the sound of something hitting the floor behind you with a slap. Before you could be surprised or even move, his now unmasked head was pressed into the back of yours. He inhaled deeply, nose buried in your now sweat slicked hair. His lips dragged across your nape, lingering at the neckline of your shirt.

You wanted to see him, needed to see the face of the man that was fucking you like you had never experienced. You tried to push away from the wall, to turn your head. You weren’t sure if you would find that he was just as monstrous without the mask as when he had it on, or if he would look like a normal man, but you didn’t care. The curiosity was killing you.

Michael realized immediately what you were doing, and before you could catch so much as a glimpse of his features, he bit down on the back of your neck. Hard.

The feeling of his teeth on your neck, pinning you back in place more effectively than even his hand had, had you seeing stars. You yelped at the feeling, and then you clamped your eyes shut as the coil in your core burst and your orgasm ripped through you. Fireworks exploded behind your eyes and you couldn’t help but to sing his praises.

Feeling you clench around his cock seemed to renew the chase for his own release. He now had the added advantage of use of his other hand. He snaked that arm around your waist to pull your lower half even closer to his pistoning hips. His pace was even more brutal than before, and your cum soaked pussy made obscene, wet sounds that drowned out your combined heavy breathing.

You were sure his teeth broke skin when he bit down even harder. His thrusts stuttered and slowed. He growled against you and you felt warmth spilling inside you. His release was forced from your lower lips as he continued to thrust through his orgasm, trickling down your trembling thighs.

For a moment you were shocked. Not moving even as he pulled out and stepped away from you. You took a moment to slow your breathing and ignore the odd feeling of the rapidly cooling mix of your fluids and his that spilled from your entrance.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of rustling fabric. Finally, you were allowed to peel yourself away from the papered wall and turn to face him. You supposed that you shouldn’t have been surprised to find him completely put together, coveralls zipped and mask back in place, looking at you like he hadn’t just fucked the life out of you.

Your legs shook as you bent to recover your jeans and underwear, never taking your eyes off of him. You dared a glance at the knife embedded in the wall beside you. It was deep enough that you doubted you would be able to pull it out if he closed in on you. You weren’t sure what would happen next. He had had his fun and now the two of you were locked in a staring match in the middle of the hall, only you found yourself at a disadvantage since you couldn’t see his eyes.

Once you were fully clothed, you wrapped your arms around yourself. You didn’t want to make any sudden movements, but he was still blocking both the stairs and the window. You doubted that you would be able to sprint past him before he could grab you and kill you the way he had killed the others, and you weren’t too keen on a knife to the stomach.

Finally, he huffed quietly and stepped to the side, revealing the stairs to you. You looked at him with no small amount of surprised hesitancy. Was Michael really going to let you leave?

When you didn’t move, he tilted his head and gestured towards the stairs. His meaning was clear. Leave.

Afraid he would change his mind, you darted forward and bound down the steps on unsteady legs. You were still shaking and could already feel the soreness setting in. Your feet creaked over the porch and crunched across the dry grass. You spotted the hatch in the middle of the street.

As you approached it, you looked back at the house you had come from. Michael stood in the window through which you had watched him kill Claudette, as unmoving as a statue. You held his gaze for a moment. He had spared you this time. You somehow doubted it would be the same next time.

You jumped into the blackness of the yawning hatch.

[jeanandthedreamofhorses]

You're into ASOIAF too? Oh wow. You certainly made the right call dropping this shitshow -and yeah, looking back, I didn't think it possible to have a worse season than S5 but hooo boy, was I wrong-. Knowing its abomination of an ending now, I'm trying hard not to let it ruin the books for me, too, so take this as a cautionary tale, lol. And bc some positivity would be nice and I do always enjoy reading your opinions, if it's okay, could I ask you about your fave ASOIAF characters and such? thx!

Frick yeah, the question I’ve been waiting for! I can gush about pretty much every character since they’re all so amazingly well written, but for a brief list of the top contenders… (TWOW spoilers ahead!) 

5. Asha Greyjoy

“If there are rocks to starboard and a storm to port, a wise captain steers a third course.”

Irreverent, cynical, mocking, confident and dangerous, what’s not to love about Asha? She immediately made an impact with such scenes as her “sweet suckling babe” quip and was one of my favourite side characters in ACOK.

AFFC, however, was when she really got to shine, where to my elation she got a POV chapter, and more in ADWD. Despite her seemingly Ironborn-to-the-core personality, we discover she’s actually one of the least zealous of the Ironborn, sympathetic to the New Ways and those influenced by the culture of the ‘greenlanders’ like Rodrik the Reader. As one of the few reading Ironborn, she’s clearly one of the most intelligent of the Ironborn and certainly more open-minded, which leads to her down-to-earth sales pitch for the Kingsmoot, a sensible, realistic policy which would be genuinely best for her people - while still, of course, maintaining some elements of conquest: she is the kraken’s daughter, after all.

This side to her personality that sympathises with the fringe elements of her society and is able to make realistic assessments of the possibilities of success comes largely from the difficult position of being a prominent woman in the hypermasculine, heavily patriarchal Ironborn culture. Being raised as Balon’s substitute son has landed her more freedom than most Iron women, but in a complicated position nonetheless. She manages to handle it to the best of her ability, however with Balon gone she comes to realise just how precarious her position always was.

Now, like many other characters in ADWD, she is dealing with the hardship of broken dreams. Disaster piles upon disaster for Asha, from the failed kingsmoot to the loss of Deepwood Motte to becoming captive to Stannis (a dynamic I can’t wait to see more of btw, what an interesting clash of personalities!). Like Tyrion, her bravado serves to mask her insecurity, and her sense of powerlessness from recent events - both in commanding her own destiny and the heartache from the ruinous state of her family - really comes out in her inner monologue during ADWD.

How fitting, then, that this is when she reunites with Theon, another character whose lofty ambitions were torn brutally to the ground. Asha lorded it over him in Winterfell, but perhaps now she can relate. Mock as she may, Asha genuinely loves her family, and it’s another appealing aspect of this lonely character navigating her way through her unusual existence on the tightrope of social norms.

4. Tyrion Lannister

“You poor stupid blind crippled fool. Must I spell out every little thing for you? Very well. Cersei is a lying whore, she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. And I am the monster they all say I am. Yes, I killed your vile son.”

Everyone loves Tyrion, and how can they not? He’s one of the wittiest and most intelligent characters in the series, and the first stumbling block when it comes to which side we should root for. While he was always one of my favourite characters from the start, factoring in his complex family life and struggles on account of his dwarfism (and later the maiming of his already ugly face), my favourite part of Tyrion as a character is how all the things we love about him are flipped on their head in ADWD.

Tyrion tells us in AGOT to wear your shame like “armor and it can never be used to hurt you”. It’s an empowering statement, but throughout ASOS we see how insecure Tyrion still is inside, and his ignoble treatment at the hands of his father and the people as a whole in the kangaroo court for Joffrey’s murder, can, ultimately, be boiled down to his being a dwarf. His armour fails him, and he is still utterly unable to be loved, appreciated, or respected by anyone. Only by Tysha, as he finds out, who is now lost to him - ripped from his hands by the machinations of his father and the one family member that Tyrion still loved, his brother.

It’s at this point that Tyrion is never the same again. He murders Shae in cold blood, and he murders his father, and he regrets none of it. He is becoming the monster they said he was.

When we see him in ADWD, the dark side of Tyrion that had always been hidden behind the hope he had clung onto creeps all too shockingly for the surface. His jokes are now too cynical to laugh at, dark and disturbing and cruel. He uses his intellect for no greater good beyond his own personal amusement, deliberately influencing Young Griff to attack Westeros prematurely just in the hopes that his sister might get the axe. He is on no side but his own, acting brazenly irresponsibly as he has no interest in the grand schemes others have set out for him, or even in his own life. The chips on his shoulder are now genuine murderous intent, daydreaming about raping and killing Cersei and mounting Jaime’s head on a spike next to her. Where Tyrion’s whoring habits had seemed roguish and humorous before, in Essos he is depicted raping clearly reluctant sex slaves.

What makes this all the more disturbing, and all the more literarily brilliant, is that it casts aside the biased curtain we had seen Tyrion through before, and the result is shocking. How much more free to consent is a Westerosi prostitute than a Pentoshi sex slave? How worthwhile were the barbed comments he made so frequently when they ultimately led to a litany of testimonies against him as soon as he lost his privileged position? The worse devils of Tyrion’s nature come out in full force, and we see much more of the black of the character Martin described as “the grayest of the gray”. Perhaps the difference now is that Tyrion’s POV lacks a single element of self-love. The readers are repulsed by him in the same way he repulses himself.

Nonetheless, Tyrion seems to be rekindling something of a purpose in ADWD, as characters nurture themselves back up from the wreckage in the aftermath of the War of the Five Kings. He has lost the Lannister’s golden influence, but his silver tongue still serves him well. However, we may never see the old Tyrion again. This Tyrion has not repented for the vile things he has done, or the vile things he intends to do. He was caricatured by the citizens of King’s Landing as an evil advisor whispering into the monarch’s ear - this may become something closer to the truth when he at last meets with Daenerys.

3. Jaime Lannister

“Does my lord wish to answer?” The maester asked, after a long silence. A snowflake landed on the letter. As it melted, the ink began to blur. Jaime rolled the parchment up again, as tight as one hand would allow, and handed it to Peck. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”

Who saw a Jaime POV coming? What an incredible way to open ASOS after the prologue, to see things from the eyes of one of the series’ most notorious villains. I don’t think I need to explain at length how impactful it was to gently peel off the layers of Jaime’s character, revealing the true reason he killed Aerys, his growth in his interactions with Brienne, the embodiment of the chivalric values he abandoned, and most significantly, losing the hand that was his entire identity and vanity. Anyone who has read the book or watched the show can relate.

Since then, he continues to fascinate. He is discovering talents beyond swordsmanship, entering into a negotiation even Tywin could have been proud of. He has learned how to use his bad reputation for nobler ends, scaring Edmure Tully silly enough to end the siege of Riverrun without shedding a single drop of blood. He is still fighting for a Lannister king, true, but that is only staying true to his role as Kingsguard: now that he has lost his sword hand, he is discovering what it means to be a knight again, in an unconventional and thrilling way.

I chose the above quote because it captures the beauty of AFFC Jaime, breaking away from the sister he fought so hard to return to and decisively cutting out her influence for good. In Jaime’s reverse knight’s fable, refusing the call of the damsel in distress is one of the most upright things he has ever done. How fitting that he should then meet up with the woman who influenced him to take the other path - only she seems about to betray him, too…

It will be so interesting to see Stoneheart’s perverted justice on a character whose head we once wanted on a chopping block but now want to survive at all costs. I don’t think Brienne will be able to follow through with it to the end. After all, Jaime must live on to fulfil a certain prophecy…

2. Euron Greyjoy

“The bleeding star bespoke the end,” he said to Aeron. “These are the last days, when the world shall be broken and remade. A new god shall be born from the graves and charnel pits.”

It’s common enough to hear writers and critics talk about how your villain can’t simply be evil, and that they need to have sympathetic motivations or else they’re badly written. I think that’s true sometimes, but only when your evil villains fail to capture the raw horror of what evil really is - that’s when they feel wooden or cartoonish. To successfully capture that heart of darkness, however…

That is what George R.R. Martin achieved with Euron Greyjoy, the most terrifying character I have ever read.

Everyone underestimates Euron. They know he’s mad, but they don’t know how mad he is. They think they can outmanoeuvre him, like Asha, or betray him, like Victarion. They think he’s lying when he says he’s sailed to Valyria and means to conquer Westeros with dragons. Only Aeron knew. Only Aeron knew the depths of Euron’s depravity, and how far he means to fly. Because he’s the only one who heard the scream of the rusted iron hinge.

The Forsaken showed that it was all true, that Aeron was right all along - that he, like the oracle Cassandra, warned the Ironborn but was condemned to be ignored. Euron has an ambition unparalleled by any other character in the series - he means to turn himself into a god. He’s the only one depraved enough to go to the lengths it would take to make that dream a reality.

We should fear Euron, we should fear him very much. And yet, I think his dreams of godhood can never fully come to pass. He is, after all, still a man - still fallible, as we saw him shrink away at the Reader’s reprimand in The Reaver and change his tactics accordingly. His humanity will be the death of him - not any goodness in his heart, but a weakness common to the human creature. The dragons he means to dance with, and potentially the Others too as some theories go, will move at a pace beyond those mortal legs.

His attempt to fly will inevitably end with a fall. But that headfirst plunge will take the Seven Kingdoms with him.

1. Stannis Baratheon

“I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning… burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?“

Here is a man so totally dedicated to his duty that he is willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish it, even if it means his own destruction.

He is a character that believes in justice and the word of law more strongly than any other, and watching his dogged persistence to put a corrupt world to rights no matter the odds has always struck a chord with me, especially in this world teeming with such selfish and barbarous characters.

He is not such a performer as other characters, not as openly humorous as Tyrion (though lowkey he has an incredible dry wit), nor as pretty as Renly, nor as lighthearted as Littlefinger. He’s a dour person, hard and unpopular. But if you listen to the conversations he has with Davos, there is an incredible heart to this man who has placed all the troubles of the world on his own shoulders, and strives through cold and stormy weather to make the best, most just decision he can for no other reason than that - because it is just. Justice is hard, sharp and unyielding, not pretty, not humorous, not lighthearted - but necessary. In a king more than anywhere else. That’s why those who do follow Stannis, like Davos, follow him with such faith and loyalty.

He often proceeds about this goal in questionable ways, compensating for the imperfections of his forces and of his own personality. This is the rickety bridge Stannis walks on, as a man who will go to any means necessary to accomplish what he feels must be done. Sometimes this might mean unleashing dark forces better left locked up, sometimes it might mean committing so terrible a sin as kinslaying, sometimes it might mean sacrificing a child to awaken stone dragons - and sometimes it will mean rescuing the realm from a wildling incursion when no other king cared.

Moments like that unforgettable “STANNIS! STANNIS! STANNIS” stick so powerfully in my memory because, much like Jaime, the real virtue of this character had yet to shine so brightly as it eventually would in ASOS. Something which had always been there takes us unawares. And he is evolving, too, ever becoming more flexible, more willing to compromise, more hesitant to burnings, more dedicated to the good of the realm over himself.

And there is a whole other layer of tragic pathos that lies behind his character. Try as hard as Stannis might, and God does he try, he is not Azor Ahai, and every reader knows he will not sit the throne at the end. Even Stannis knows where this road will leave him. But he persists anyway, in the face of death. The courage of that, the self-sacrifice - how can one not be moved by it?

One of the finer points of Stannis that often goes missed in (understandably) overzealous attempts to correct the show’s butchering of his character, is that there is a part of him that does want to be king. He’s lived in Robert’s shadow his entire life, as Asha thinks to herself in ADWD, and there is a part of him that does yearn for recognition. Quotes like “Robert could piss in a cup and men would call it wine, but I offer them cold clear water and they squint in suspicion and mutter to each other about how queer it tastes.” reveal that, I think.

So this is a whole other internal battle within Stannis - he must be careful not to allow his judgement to falter against the part of him that is jealous of Robert, of Renly, that wants to be the hero Melisandre says he is. This very human aspect complicates further the already complicated war between deontological and utilitarian ethics that wages in his head, with Davos and Melisandre as their respective spokesmen. Much as he may want to be a perfect king and avatar of justice - he is still human.

The depth and tragedy of Stannis Baratheon is Shakespearean. My heart shatters in advance for the moment Stannis has made his greatest sacrifice of all to halt the advance of the Others (not the Boltons, he’ll flatten them like pancakes), and for it to do nothing, nothing at all. For him to realise he was never the hero of this story, and that now he has gathered all this blood on his hands where there is no spring to wash them in.

A man so just as Stannis could never forgive himself. But we, the readers, shall never forget the battles he fought as an axle of this universe striving to be something greater.

Honourable Mentions to Aeron, Victarion, Barristan, Jon (Snow and Connington), Cersei and Brienne. Yes, I really like the Greyjoys 🦑.

[elliemarchetti]

Will you do a part 2 to the zombie AU?

Here it is! Hope you like it!

Words: 1817

“That’s it! You’re getting a lot better, Ruth.” Diana said, as she wandered through the new recruits who were learning to shoot, including Shade’s mother and  younger sister, Gisa. His brothers were already expert snipers and his father was too debilitated to be of any help in active missions, but she was sure that he would defend himself and his family to the last breath if they were attacked, not to mention the fact that he was an excellent recruit for night shifts since he never seemed to sleep. A couple of weeks had passed since their arrival and although the results came very slowly, that test on Diana's patience was beginning to bear fruit, especially with Kilorn, a friend of Shade who had taken care of his parents as long as he could. He was a good fisherman, a very useful thing since with the arrival of the cold the game would’ve started to run low, an excellent explorer and now he was also ready for missions, which couldn’t be said of Ann, who although was a pleasant surprise, thanks to her iron will, still has some aiming problems.

“Ok everybody, that’ll do for today!” exclaimed Tristan, drawing her attention. He wasn’t a great talker and he was a little paranoid but he was a great teacher and as always he was right to urge everyone to move: the sky was already starting to darken over their heads and although the training field wasn’t far from the camp, but still at an adequate safety distance not to allow the zombies to bring the sound of the shots back to the safe area,  it was always better to be foresighted. During their observations, the part that Diana preferred least of her own work, they had noticed that these creatures, especially in the more advanced cases, were photosensitive. The sun, or sudden light sources, annoyed them so much that they sometimes retreated to darker corners, but it was not a long-lasting thing: once they got used to the artificial light, they were as dangerous as before. She and her companions had somehow begun to suspect that those things retained part of their human intelligence, and based on which parts of the brain were first devoured by the virus they lost this or that ability, so they assumed that a person who had been infected recently could still speak and behave normally, for a short period of time, before hunger began to devour them from within. Looking at what had once been people being devoured by a feeling that they too, although controllable, felt, gave nightmares to many and at the moment Diana's team only had three other permanent members, Shade, Tristan and Rasha, but occasionally two brothers, Big Coop and Little Coop, joined them. If they had kept up that pace, by the end of autumn everyone, even the children, would’ve been able to defend themselves at close range and her team would’ve been bigger, but it probably would’ve taken all winter and part of spring to fully train reliable snipers such as Tristan and Rasha; not even Diana was on their level and when that time would inevitably come she would’ve step aside, switching to new recruits, if they could find them, or returning to her mission with Shade, in which, thanks to his jumps, that always made her feel nauseous but were the most valuable asset she had managed to find for the Guard, no matter what her father said, they had managed to find an unimaginable number of weapons and ammunition, not to mention food and other basic necessities that otherwise they could never have transported for such long distances. His sister Gisa was an excellent seamstress and she made garments, tents and blankets with the fabrics that her brother retrieved her who knows where and when she wasn’t training she patched and reinforced the clothes they already had, adapting them to the seasons change and making them more practical and resistant. If their world hadn’t fallen into chaos, she would’ve had a decent job, perhaps even in court, where her sister served as a maid, and together they would’ve guaranteed their family a relatively comfortable life, to be Reds. Although she was safer than them, Mare’s topic was a sore point, which made Shade, but also the rest of the family, suffer immensely. Ruth claimed that they should face the situation together but she was proud of her, while her father, who didn’t speak much but rarely left his much more outgoing wife’s side, just glared at her when she mentioned the older of their daughters, as if he knew something she didn’t, which was obviously impossible since they couldn’t receive letters where they were and even if they did, he couldn’t read.

“Welcome back! You guys are perfect marksmen like me, now?” Rasha greeted them when she saw the little group from afar. Just like the Barrows, she and Tristan were a strangely assorted couple, but if she didn't know what Ruth had to go through to survive until her age and get there, she knew the Rasha’s story well: on the way to join the Guard she had lost two sisters, the only family she had left, and where anyone else would shut themself up to protect their heart, she had opened it to what she called her big family. If the thing between her and Tristan had continued, and judging by his protective attitude towards her it seemed to be so, sooner or later she would’ve had a new family that was going to be only hers. Although her help was crucial, it was necessary that Naercey wasn’t only a place of military resistance but also of new beginnings, where the Reds could fight against that enemy who didn’t seem to want to withdraw and at the same time demonstrate to the Silvers that they can thrive in any situation they were placed in.

“Just a couple of them,” replied Tristan, when they were close enough not to be heard by the cadets, who were dispersing. Weighting down the hearts was of no use and whoever had seen the Guard born knew it very well.

"Aren't they the sweetest?" asked a voice behind her, making her jump. It was Shade, who had appeared out of nowhere, scaring her to death. She could face hordes of zombies without blinking, but the Silvers and newbloods’s, as people started to call Shade at the camp, abilities always caught her off guard. She glanced at her best friend, who had climbed the lookout tower to give a quick kiss on Rasha's dark cheek and ask her if it had all been quiet.

"You don't know the meaning of the word privacy, do you?" she asked, walking away to leave the two lovebirds some space: that day Tristan had the night shift and she knew how important it was for him to get rid of the training stress thanks to his girlfriend’s soothing presence.

"Don't tell me they don't give you a little hope," he teased, following her. Although Diana had long legs, it was difficult to outrun someone with his ability.

“They do,” she admitted, but she didn't want to start to talk about feeling right now, especially with him, so she asked him if he would like to help her chop some wood. Although her arms weren’t as muscular or strong as those of Shade's brothers, nothing could’ve taken away from her that relief valve, which left her exhausted and finally allowed her to sleep dreamlessly. Although a long time had passed, she still dreamed of her mother and Madeline drowning in the small village where she was born and raised. Orrec Cygnet's method of getting rid of zombies was simple: just a tip-off, a few villagers who began to behave strangely or cattle that suddenly disappeared from nearby fields and he flooded whole cities with his ability. This brutal method had certainly helped to contain the epidemic but had killed many innocent people and broken many families, just as had happened with hers. Back then she swore to herself that when that madness would be over she would’ve took revenge, but in light of the facts, she was increasingly convinced that she wouldn’t survive enough to see Norta and the Lakelands zombie-free again, and surely she would never be able to approach the Cygnet king, who has been self-imprisoned with his family in the unreachable royal palace for years now, delegating many public tasks to his less important cousins.

"Still lost in your thoughts?" Shade asked, as they carried the proceeds of their work to the field. It had always been difficult for Diana to open up with strangers and it took Tristan and Rasha almost a year to forcefully extrapolate one of her thoughts but Shade was really different and Diana, even if she didn’t told him about her nightmares, shared with him some of her concerns about the camp and the winter.

"What did the people who live here did before… this?" he asked, unexpectedly. She couldn’t grasp the connection between her words and the boy's question until she began to list the professions she knew of.: everyone had different skills, and with a little extra effort they would’ve come out from the cold season stronger than before. They had almost reached their destination when they heard an inhuman verse, the kind they were sadly used to very far from that safe place, coming from one of the houses closest to the woods. Diana had already dropped the wood and pulled out the gun when the zombie came out, the skin starting to marrow on the skull almost completely hairless. An eye was missing and he must’ve practically devoured his lips by himself when he began to experience the insane hunger that assailed those who had been infected with the virus, and his teeth, stained with fresh blood, were completely uncovered. Whoever lived there hadn't had a good death. One precise shot and the thing fell to the ground, but it wasn’t the only one: at least three others came out of the bush with their dragging and disturbing step. One was in a more advanced state of decay and it seemed the representation of death she saw in one of her old textbooks while the other two were a man and a woman whose traits were still recognizable, but for some reason she was certain that the number of invaders wasn’t just four. Shade also pulled out his gun and shot two of them with deadly precision.

"Go warn the others!" she screamed, hitting the fourth in the shoulder. The woman moved incredibly faster than every other thing Diana ever met, as if she were… a silk. They had Silver zombies in front of them, and apparently, although she still didn’t know how far, they continued to maintain their abilities.

[chippedteakettle]

GOT rant

I think the most wildly frustrating thing about this ENTIRE game of thrones debacle is that I can’t even remember the last time I felt this thoroughly invalidated about the way I feel.

I am a writer and I love stories, but most of all I love CHARACTERS. I have a passion for editing stories and smoothing things out to make character arcs feel believable and like the dialogue and choices ring true and feel as natural them as possible. And as such, I feel like I have a good eye and solid intuition about when things feel a bit off the rails, but every single time I have spoken up about the dissonance within season 8, I have been hushed.

I have been told that I can’t say the show is making incorrect or “wrong” choices because it’s not my creation- that I therefore am being unreasonable in my own right if I critique the writing or say it seems lazy or poorly fleshed out or straight up bizarre. That I am a hater for using my ability to employ critical thinking.I have been tossed the age old insult that I am both too invested and also somehow clearly missing things. I have been told that others are “even more on dany’s side than me” or that they “love her just as much as me, but this was the only obvious outcome and it’s clear through the entire series.” Wanting something that simply made sense means I am being an ignorant thrones fan who just wants a “happy ending.” “BS. If everyone including dany dies in the end for a justifiable, believable reason and its how the entire show ends, I wouldn’t enjoy it but I could understand it and that’s truly all I’m asking for. I am so sick of being shushed and silenced....

And it’s ALL by my peers who are MALE fans of the show. Every woman I know who loves this franchise LOVES the dimension of dany and feels robbed. But every man I’ve spoken to personally in my small corner of the world is perfectly content with the crazy ex girlfriend logic being implemented in this show and I find it both invalidating and absolutely bonkers. To have my sound logic rebutted with flat, non dimensional absolutes that dany is just an angry emotional woman who’s lost everything and this was unavoidable because of her Targaryen blood is absolutely staggering. I have never been so heartbroken- not only for her, but for myself and the women I love that this is readily acceptable. Like what the actual heck?

And I am sick and tired of being told over and over and over again that this seasons ONLY issue was being rushed. I am completely over some of the smartest people I know repeating the rationale they were spoonfed by D&D as if they are valid factors behind the character’s choices and motivations. I am BEYOND baffled by the amount of smart, intellectual men that I have seen who fully accept this atrocity of a season at face value and BELIEVE that every choice Danaerys made in the last two episodes was fully validated, justified and foreshadowed and made apparent in a clear, obvious way throughout the entire series. That is garbage.

What was FORESHADOWED was the battle against the dead. What was FORESHADOWED was the power of the three eyed raven. What was FORESHADOWED was the prince who was promised and the intervention of the lord of light. What was FORESHADOWED was Jon’s Targaryen lineage and ultimate legitimacy and how it would eventually affect him.

And all of these legitimately foreshadowed things were all chucked out with the rubbish to pick up these random threads that they tried to weave into something that ultimately fell apart.... now I will concede that Dany was made increasingly cold and absolute in both her decision making and emotions approaching season 8. Dany is depicted as ruthless when exacting justice with the potential to go too far. That is very valid. There are hints of her potentially going too far and it having dire ramifications and potentially little remorse. I did not like this choice but it IS plausible. But what she does to Kings landing and the scale in which she does it has nothing to do with vengeance , retribution or justice- It’s just illogical. And that’s why it doesn’t fit....

a monarch who intends to protect the downtrodden suddenly becoming an intentional blind mass murderer of innocents who have already surrendered to her because her council betrays her and she decides to rule a dead city by fear MAKES NO SENSE! call it foreshadowing all you want but it’s an inconsistent plot point within a well established character.

A character having the potential for a poor decision based on their flaws is NOT the same thing as telling us it was the unavoidable conclusion to her tale. You cannot make a human character without giving them flaws. The existence of those flaws is not proof that the flaws will inevitably undo them. It only shows that there is a chance for something to happens.... not a direct indicator. The characters code of ethics, core beliefs, and level of self awareness still dictate how much power their shortcomings will have over them and how much they will indulge in their weakness. And with danaerys, despite her temper and despite her “divine right of kings” mentality that the iron throne should belong to a a Targaryen, there is SO MUCH MORE EVIDENCE to the validity of her good nature overruling her darker inclinations. At this point, she has been failed by her advisors, but she still wishes to make Westeros a better safer place, take back her birthright, avenge her fallen children and friends and be a better Targaryen than those before her. So it makes no sense for her to hurt civilians....Because Danaerys above all, wants to be a good ruler. She wants to be ruler who inspires love and deserves it. This is clear when she told Jon point blank in season 7 that she hopes she deserves the gift of both his faith in her and the faith of the north backing her. She makes this incredibly genuine confession even in the wake of handling the heart crushing loss of her first dragon and child. This is something that would typically consume her with grief, but she is instead concerned with the world at large and hoping she is worthy of the trust bestowed upon her.

This is not the sentiment of a cruel unreasonable tyrant. It is the true heart of Danaerys Targaryen. It is an indicator of humility, objectivity and positive potential. It is an indicator of the fact that she DOES deserve love and loyalty. That caring about whether or not she deserves the sacrifices others make for her will drive her to make wise, good choices that benefit those who support her and ultimately benefit the world at large because she considers the ramifications of her actions and how they affect the people while none of the other rulers of Westeros have.

The complete abandonment of her prior sense of justice and self awareness in her dialogue in the throne room in episode 6 is inconsistent with a ruler who never wanted to be her father. Her logic is tyrannical then and *out of character*- then she dips back into being madly in love with Jon : not because she is crazy but because this monologue is incohesive and needs revision!

As a woman who has been sweet and soft her entire life, I am so done with being trampled on by boys and their incoherent rhetoric. I was abused my entire life and sexually taken advantage of by a man I called my husband at the time. I am not as sweet and delicate as I used to be prior to that. I’ve had seasons where I lost absolutely everything and it devastated me. And at my core I am the same girl, but I have more grit now. I stand up for myself and I have more strength to assert myself and stand up for those around me. Not because of my abuse (Sansa), but in spite of it. I get walked over less and am honest and driven while still being idealistic...But none of that makes me ”MAD”. Those are not symptoms of insanity or depravity. Nor are they evidence that should I systematically lose everything all over again that I would commit mass murder. No, Madness is not what danaerys suffers from. Danaerys suffered from being written in a short sighted, poorly plotted way that was inconsistent with her heart and narrative.

Danaerys was being tipped in a direction that certainly contained much more chilling absoluteness, but that DOES NOT justify ANYTHING. If that is the rationale alone, then Sansa is the same character! Other characters, including female characters in this show, have done heinous things but there is NO other character who was labeled as entirely beyond salvation after a *single* choice. And that is another nail in the coffin of this backwards logic!!

Tyrion betrayed her and undermined and redirected her so many times but still lived to tell jon to kill her BECAUSE SHE WAS LOYAL ENOUGH TO HIM TO LET HIM LIVE EVEN AFTER TELLING HIM HIS NEXT BETRAYAL WOULD BE HIS LAST! if dany is truly “mad,” then there should be nothing at all holding her back from slaughtering him where he stands on the stone steps of kings landing when he insults and disrespects her in front of her entire army-but she doesn’t! She civiliy has him removed and chained and allows him visitors!!!! Yeah, what a completely irrational despot.

And even if she DID kill him, it would be because it was EARNED! He committed treason more than once and prioritized her enemies over her despite being HER hand. This was the FIRST Thing she does that is out of whack and they suddenly think she’s going to murder Jon snow because of a fear of his legitimacy? She’s never so much as raised her voice at him! So why in God’s name would she kills him?

She’s begged him, she’s shown him her desperation and vulnerability and fear and desire to connect with him, and shown him in every way she can that SHE is still on HIS side but after a single (albeit brutal) action, she is only bad and purely unsalvagable? What? Even Theon Greyjoy got a better redemption arc than that and he literally burned two little boys to death!

Can we also address the fact that Dany knew of John’s bloodline for nearly the ENTIRE season and does not breathe a word of it to anyone, even when her back is against the wall at dragonstone and everyone she trusts has failed her. It has not even occurred to her to betray him because regardless of what anyone else may say or think, danaerys is LOYAL, almost to a fault. She never treats John any differently outside of being shocked the moment it’s revealed and still continues to love and seek him out, desiring closeness with him as he pushes her out, because she still wishes to be with him regardless. Because she is not petty or terrified that he will steal people’s love from her. Even if she realizes she is out of place in the north, it never occurs to her to betray his confidence.

While goddang Sansa can’t even keep her petty sharp tongued mouth shut for a whole thirty minutes before she rats out his secret for her own short sighted benefit because she’s what?jealous of danaerys and thinks she’s smarter than John?

But sansa is openly praised in the aftermath of this series as our queen in the north !? For what? For being a snake? For ruining John’s life and getting the brother she wished to hold close exiled beyond the wall and suddenly being unable to form a single word to defend him in that council when she knows good and well that she started this and it’s her fault but she’s articulate enough not one breath later to ask for the north’s independence???? For seceding from Westeros when her own brother is king just so the whole world knows for sure just how racist and xenophobic the north is- not by tradition but by choice? For being an unoriginal, unclever mean girl who hates danaerys because she’s different and is jealous that she’s a queen and then Sansa gets her way and ruins her in the least strategic, most sloppy, pettiness fueled way ever? But Sansa is considered a beloved character by most men in the end while Dany is fed to the absolute wolves???? What?!

Danaerys has never lied or betrayed her word. She has always had a reason for every action she did. And in the world of game of thrones, she is not surrounded by innocent lambs. Tyrion is a murderer who’s gone free more than once. Jon broke his vows to the nights watch. Varys has hatched more murderous plots than can be counted- including plots aimed at Dany’s own life. Sansa was stone faced as she watched Ramsay die just as dany was at the death of Viserys. Arya has murders countless people- even to the depravity of feeding someone their own children in a pie. Tywin Lannister was calculating, cruel, vicious and treacherous and was a part of countless battles, rebellions and murders- including the red wedding. JAMIE LANNISTER PUSHED A SMALL CHILD OUT A GODDANG WINDOW AND CRIPPLED HIM FOR LIFE just so he could go back to rutting into his own sister in peace. Excuse me? what?? But none of these characters were killed after their FIRST offense. None of them had their internal motivations chocked up to a lazy shoulder shrug of “eh, grief, man. Never know what a woman will do. B*tches be crazy man. Guess I should’ve seen it coming. Signs were probably there all along-she did kill all those evil men tho.” Nor were ANY- not a single one of them- labeled “mad.”

“Mad” is someone like Craster who was beyond all morality and consistently showed a horrific lack of care for human life. “Mad” is someone like Ramsay Bolton who caused dismemberment, torture and rape for FUN. Danaerys Targaryen is not even close to being in this eschalon for a single choice. “Madness” in this particular universe is based on a series of repetitive, consistent patterns that continually choose the inhumane option because of no justifiable reason other than “because they want to”, and that’s just not what we’re working with here.

Dany has a temper. Dany can threaten fire and blood all she wants, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t blindly swing her axe. She is strategic and intentional. And above all else, she does not want to be queen of the ashes- she does not wish to be the next Targaryen to perpetuate crimes of cruelty. She’s already lived with an abusive brother and been haunted by the stories of her seemingly unhinged, possibly schizophrenic father. She shapes each choice she makes to help her become a ruler who only encites fear in the heart of those who wish to do evil, not in the common man. She wishes to liberate and free those who have been oppressed like her- like she is still being crushed, misused and mistreated by the people around her in season 8, episode 5.

So for her to suddenly snap and just take the choice of life away from thousands of innocent people and children in an instant to prove that what- she can if she wants to? MAKES NO SENSE. She wouldn’t harm innocents ESPECIALLY WHEN IT IS AVOIDABLE AND SERVES NO PURPOSE!!! how does she risk everything she’s worked for to save all of humanity only to decimate the entire city she wishes to rule from in the span of 2 episodes??? Because what? she’s pouty that John won’t kiss her back? THAT IS NONSENSE. And it doesn’t even touch on the fact that CERSEI IS STILL IN THE CASTLE ! So if rage and grief are the “motivators” then why in the heck would she burn down the civilians of the city she wishes to rule and the leave the red keep virtually untouched while woman responsible for murdering missandei is still inside if vengeance is her game at this point? TELL ME HOW THAT MAKES SENSE. Oh you can’t? You know why? Because it doesn’t!

Either you make her full tilt crazy or let her be Dany, but don’t you dare mix the two and tell me it made a lick of sense. Or tell me that I’m being unreasonable just because I’m a girl who related to dany’s original arc. That’s nonsense. If this is a case of hereditary mental instability then where the heck are the signs?? Because even her fathers descent into madness was GRADUAL. He didn’t just wake up one day and light half the city on fire because he felt consumed by a certain mood- even psychotic breaks don’t work that way. If we’re looking at facts like they keep asking me to, targaryen madness was a long, grueling, arduous descent into chaos that broke Jamie Lannisters heart to watch.

So don’t you dare turn around and suddenly make Tyrion instigate her death just so you can a shitty parallel of both Targaryen monarchs being taken out by Lannisters they trusted or try to tell me that Dany being stabbed in a way she wasn’t suspecting by someone she loved is some kind of Targaryen poetic justice allusion to her father being run through the back when his chaos had reached its apex. Don’t you dare make me look her in the eye while her loving gaze collapses into confusion, hurt and disbelief as John plunges that stupid dishonorable knife in her. That was wrong. Just plain wrong. And none of us should have had to see it.

The “turn” of danaerys Targaryen was unfounded, unwarranted and sloppily executed, and I am tired of being spoken down to like I’m a dumb little girl for believing in this character and despising where they took her and how she got there.

Mic drop

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

“no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

[24hs]

the bee’s guts

summary: She was back at her parents’ house, but it felt like she had left home.

or

A pathological liar and someone pathologically fixated on brutal honesty.

pairings: nicomaki

words: 2000+

warnings: a little bit of everything if were being honest but only mentions

also readable here

As the day shifts into night, her thoughts become more incoherent as the light fades.

As the day shifts into night, her thoughts become more incoherent as the light fades.

It has been like this… for how long, exactly? Hours or years, she couldn’t tell. She had to find out that vodka makes her sleepy, while whiskey leaves a comfortable burning sensation in her throat. An ambitious mixture of both works best to break out from the night and get to saving daylight quickly.

She doesn’t always fight them. Sometimes, the weakness is stronger.

(Nico would call it strength, maybe bravery. Nico used to be very hung up on being brave and being honest and being soft.)

Maki’s fingers act before her brain can think. At first hesitant – as if that was to undo her rotten intentions -, then quick, she can’t ever go back, she lights up match for match. Lets them fall onto the ground, carefully holds them onto curtains until she sees the chaos in her mind on her fingertips.

She doesn’t leave the room she spent most of her childhood until she’s forcefully dragged out of it. The noise outside finds a way into her head like a parasite, buzzing loudly and pressing violently against the inside of her skull. They’re yelling at her. For what she has done or for who she is, she doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter. She only cares a little bit.

As she refuses to make any movement to save herself from the inferno she created, the people around her grab her arms and pull at her like a doll. Apparently, they do not care if she gets a few bruises as long as she gets out alive. She wonders, what’s the point? If they revive her with stitches and she turns out to be a sheer mask of her old self, patched up and heavily made-up in order to hide what she truly is.

Is that better than dying true to yourself?

They get her out of the room that was once, very briefly, home. As they pass the burning photos on melting walls ; photos of her on her birthdays, with her parents, on events and galas ; her ceramic smile becoming more and more fragile ; her lips turn into a snarl. She stills grins as they’re hauling her out of the burning, yet so cold, cold room.

 “The doctors said you’re fine”, her father spits. “Why are you acting up again? Don’t you ever think about your parents?”

Maki doesn’t answer. (She thinks her doctors are liars, possibly simple suck-ups, both intimidated and intrigued by her parents’ disgusting wealth. She also thinks her genuine thoughts wouldn’t be appreciated right now. Not that they once were.) Instead of giving in, she takes a bite of the steak the cooks have prepared for their dinner. It tastes bland.

“What happened to you?”, her mother cries out. “You used to be our perfect girl. Now, you’re- you’re-“

“We can’t go anywhere without people mocking us!” Her father now yells; she idly watches the vein on his throat throbbing as his voice becomes louder. “Laughing about us because our insane, fucked in the head daughter-“

Ironically enough, this is the trigger for her to think about Nico. Maybe because Nico had always protected her whenever someone called her that. Cussed at them, using names so obscene and rough it made Maki almost feel sane. They never bothered her again. Not with Nico next to her, anyway.

“But you do know that I am, right?”, Maki once told her. “Fucked in the head, I mean. they’re not wrong.” She had become cold at the phrase, had even started to believe it. Accepted it with a shrug. If everyone was like her, the world would be at a very different place.

Nico just glared at her. “I’ve seen crazy people, Nishikino. You’re certainly not one of them.” Then, a little bit quieter ; Maki to this day isn’t sure she was supposed to hear it, “you just need to be loved genuinely.”

She patiently waits for her parents to suffocate on their words as she chews on her just as dull salad. Eventually, they’re stopping themselves from shouting and there’s just the clock ticking as they silently take their meals. Her mother on the verge of tears, her father emotionless like a statue.

Maki has always felt much more adequate in her parents’ presence when they’re being themselves. She feels like she fits right in.

 Of course, they wanted her to talk about her family in the psychiatry. All issues one has with oneself root from one’s parents, they diligently told her, many times, as if they were reading the phrase from a book. Knowing her own parents, Maki can’t say she’s very surprised. She refused to talk about them, though.

Nico always wanted her to.

“Why should I talk?”, Maki complained one time. “It won’t make me feel better.”

“It really won’t”, Nico laughed. Maki scoffed at her.

“You won’t even lie to make me feel better?”

Nico glared at her. “Fuck you think I am? No, I won’t lie to you. Duh.”

Maki defensively put her arms in front of her chest. They hadn’t been roommates for too long at that point ; they still had to work their way around each other, see what makes the other person click. Maki sometimes wondered whether the administration or whoever does dorms in psychiatry stuck the two of them together for laughs. A pathological liar and someone pathologically fixated on brutal honesty.

“But”, Nico looked at her with a stern look that sent a shiver down Maki’s spine, “sometimes you have to hurt to heal. Burning everything to ashes and then rising from it. You know?”

Her heart still speeds up at the thought of literally burning down her own walls, making her both anxious and relieved. Oh, if Nico could’ve seen all the hurting she’d done today.

 She sits in front of a blank piece of paper. It used to a notebook, but that was far too ambitious. Small steps, Maki tells herself, even though she doesn’t put much trust in her own capabilities in forming words.

Clicking the ballpoint pen rapidly she struggles to get her thoughts on paper.

She tries, I’m sorry. Crosses that, then decides it was a good starter to begin with - it’s simple and it’s honest and Nico would appreciate that - and writes it down again.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry

I’m s

I

I’m so

S

Maki’s hand shakes so much she has to put down her pen. Fuck.

She takes her phone. Its old, probably doesn’t even have access to the internet (a desperate yet unfortunately successful attempt by her parents to cut her off from the world), but it suffices for an apology.

“Hi”, she speaks into her phone, “this is Maki. Um, I don’t know how this works, really. I’ve never done this.”

But you deserve this so much.

“So… I’m sorry. For hurting you, and for lying. Knowing you, you probably care about the lie more than your feelings-“

I care about you more than anything else.

“But, um… I’m sorry. Really sorry.” She takes a deep breath. “Bye, Nico.”

Long after the phone has stopped recording, she mumbles three words. They may be the most honest thing she’s ever said.

 Therapy sucked. It was never spoken out-loud, but everyone knew she was the girl her parents sent to the psychiatry to fix her up. To make her shut up, to twist her into something she truly, genuinely is not. A doll, a puppet, with a never-ending smile and a dead heart.

Even in fucking psychiatry she was an outsider.

The other girls didn’t like her, either. Even though Nico and she shared a room, there had been dorm activities, group therapy, and the game Sundays. They liked to talk about her in a volume Maki could overhear just well, bumped into her when they crossed paths. Threw her clothes into a ditch. Called her brat, spoiled. Again, fucked in the head. (This one became a favorite as soon as they noticed it shook her up the most.)

Nico got mad whenever she notices someone going against Maki. Maki didn’t need the protection, not really, she didn’t care if she got hurt. Not until Nico cared. Nico took care of her in such a soft way Maki started to look after herself, too.

It was horrifying to wake up and to suddenly care whether you survive the day or not.

 Maybe – just maybe – she pushed Nico away in order to preserve herself, the only version she had ever known.

Maybe – and this one is far more likely, if she’s being honest – she’s afraid of change out of all things?

 The day she eventually put the puzzle pieces together was the day her thoughts became irreversibly tangled, much more than before. Drowning in white noise, suffocated by her own heavy thoughts, she made the decision to finally take Nico’s advice.

She was so sure she would get sent back to the psychiatry and get to see her again, now that her parents had an actual reason to. Setting her house on fire, almost killing herself in the process, for fuck’s sake, would surely get her to see Nico again, right?

She waits and waits and gets more and more anxious, because – the longer she waits, the higher the chance Nico has been discharged. She feels slightly selfish for wanting Nico to stay there; but she wouldn’t know where else to find her.

Maki still has an apology to make.

She still has to undo her worst mistake.

 Sometimes, the nightmares seem to overwhelm her. It’s always the same one (as if her own mind wanted to mock her terribly, and, knowing herself, that is probably the main reason). Maki always ends up waking up, face grotesquely distorted in an empty scream, a helpless attempt in trying to save herself from the fire that seems so real. It’s always eating her alive, leaving the rest of the room untouched.

When she’s awake, the fire can’t hurt her; all the pain in the world couldn’t compare to what happens behind her eye sockets when she thinks about turning her life around.

Her situation is unfortunate (it sucks so fucking much), but it’s a constant. Its steadily painful. Who knows where she would end up if she dared to leave?

Nico had wanted her to run away. The both of them to run away, actually. She had started to state these plans around the same time they began to be closer. Maki enjoyed Nico’s touches, her warm lips on her hands, her neck, her collarbones.

 Maki isn’t dumb. Neither is she emotionally unintelligent. She noticed the way Nico’s eyes lit up when she entered a room. She could tell by the way Nico became more gently towards her and hold her hand until she fell asleep.

But Maki isn’t kind, either.

When Nico eventually confessed her feelings to her – in just the way Nico is, fuck, Maki’s heart still clenches whenever she thinks about it – in just a simple sentence, “I think I fell in love with you”… well, she surely didn’t expect Maki to laugh in her face.

“That would be funny, wouldn’t it? The failure and her lover. God, I can already see my parents’ faces.”

Nico’s face turns into a grimace. “You don’t have to be a failure, Maki. You know that.”

“We don’t have a choice!”, Maki suddenly snaps, angry all of a sudden, she doesn’t know why ; the thought of Nico liking her out of all people, Nico choosing a miserable ending makes her so endlessly mad, “We can’t just leave!”

“Why not?”, Nico yells back, now standing up. She doesn’t reach Maki’s eye level, but the burning frustration seems to make her taller. “Why not, Maki?”

“Do you really think any of us could make it?”, Maki spits, “Leave this behind us?”

Nico stares at her in disbelief as if she never saw her before. The sight leaves Maki devastated, but she can’t stop.

“That’s it, then?”, Nico calmly says, eyes cold but hands shaking so slightly Maki doesn’t catch it.

“Its never been something to begin with”, Maki hears herself sneer.

Liar.

Look at what you’ve done to yourself.

She doesn’t know how Nico managed to do it, but she was paired up with another girl the following day. It was the same room, but it felt a lot less like home without Nico greeting her when she came from sessions, Nico making her hot chocolate when she couldn’t sleep, Nico crawling under her sheets when Maki was shaking from nightmares.

At some point, her parents decided to discharge her. She remembers eavesdropping a conversation her therapist had with her parents, heatedly trying to tell them that Maki was nowhere near being healthy. Unsurprisingly, her parents didn’t want to hear that. An important event was coming up and they needed their only daughter as an accessory.

She was back at her parents’ house, but it felt like she had left home.

 And then, eventually – the cleansing. The fire.

The determination to see Nico again, paired with fear that ate her alive.

The nightmares.

 One day – could it be any different? Feels like destiny spit in her face -, she sees Nico. She rubs her eyes, tells herself it’s a hallucination, because, Nico can’t just be walking down the street.

But there she is. Her hair in those pigtails Maki likes so much (she would never admit that to her), a black eye embellishing her face (whomever did that to her, Maki wants to fight), staring at her phone. She must have gotten lost; in fact, its so weird seeing her Nico in the stuck-up, snobby neighborhood full of empty mansions, Maki can’t help but stare at her until her heart gets teary from the exposure.

Maki runs from her room, escapes the stairs and finally reaches the doorknob. Her heartbeat beats in her fingertips and she runs and runs and runs and –

She stops when Nico turns around.

“Nishikino”, Nico says, with a loop-sided smile, and Maki needed to hear her voice so badly she can actually feel her knees getting weak. “You left, huh?”

“My parents took me back”, Maki answers, a bit out of breath. She realizes she said the wrong thing when Nico snorts.

“Figured”, Nico lifts her hand in a casual wave, “bye, then.”

“Wait!”

Nico stops in her motions and raises one eyebrow, the one above her black eye. Maki scolds herself for not taking her phone with her ; then again, Nico would think of her as a coward if she just played the record instead of just saying it.

“I’m sorry”, she eventually says. Poison through her veins. There’s a flash of hurt in Nico’s eyes.

“Here I thought you couldn’t get any worse, now you want to make fun of me, too?”, Nico quietly asks, anger shaking in her voice. Usually, when one of them gets angry, it sparks a fire in the other one, too ; they always used to burn each other up ; but now, all Maki feels is numbness.

“I’m sorry”, Maki says through gritted teeth. Wants it to keep repeating like a broken record, wants it to beat into Nico’s head to make her realize she needs the guilt to be gone.

“That doesn’t make it better”, Nico tells her, almost regretfully.

Maki has too many thoughts she wants to get out, out, out, but as hard as she tries, she can’t.

Don’t leave, she desperately needs to say. Don’t leave me alone with my thoughts, don’t go-

Instead, she stays silent with the demons in her head.

“You won”, Nico plainly says. Maki’s guts turn themselves inside out at the sight of the empty grin Nico gives her. “You lost it, but you won, right?”

Did she really win?

Patched up heart on her sleeve and crocodile tears on her cheeks, burning more than ever.

 At last, we cannot escape from who we really are.

[themostcleverandwittyname]

Curiosity Saved the Cat

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(Jumin x MC)(Saeran x MC)

Summary:

MC is fairly happy after Jumin proposes to her, however, her curiosity leads her to contact the hacker that started it all.

Chapter 7: Confusion and Conflict

Chapter 7 on AO3

The basement was cold at night, if you could call it a basement. It was a prison cell with iron bars and a steel lock, the metals were tinted gold with the firelight from the torches. The air was damp and musky and the humid air clung to everything it touched, including Myung. She paced around the cell impatiently, her head aching from her previous encounter. She had a knot on her head from where she had been struck with that metal. She hated this and wanted to get out so bad it hurt. The cot that she had woken up on what made of stiff canvas and did nothing to help her sore and aching muscles. The memory of everything that had happened weighed heavily on her mind as she angrily paced around, as if another step in her stride could break down the stone walls. There were no windows but she still felt as if it were nighttime. The air held the quietness of a still night, the darkness of the dungeon chilled her bones.

There was one escape with was a large oaken door much like the one that opened to the throne room of the “Savior”. She seethed at the situation and seethed at her failure. She hated herself for doing this to herself, to the RFA, and to Jumin. She couldn’t put a finger on how long she had paced around the cell like a dog on guard, but her muscles cried in protest as the constant use. Her head throbbed and only pounded her anger into her head more.

She had plenty of time to reflect on what she had done. When she had woken up, she felt fairly sorry for herself and downright pitiful. She even had herself a cry that didn’t seem to do anything but drain her more. She recalled how she had just marched into Seven’s house entitled to answers that he most likely wasn’t sure of himself. She pushed and pushed him to the point of anger. She caused him to lash out at her and it was all her fault. Then, like a stupid kid, she stormed off and just had to prove herself right. She just had to act so stupidly as to contact a dangerous stranger and actually meet him in the shadiest place she could have. It would have been safer to meet him in an underground tattoo shop or in an all behind a strip club for god’s sake! How could she have been such a fool?

Another thing that tortured her thoughts was the fact that the RFA was probably going to blame Seven for her mistake. She could just imagine the string of messages that would read things like why didn’t you protect/stop her and how could you let the apartment be compromised? She felt her heart shred itself when she thought that he would most likely take the blame when she acted on her own.

Jumin came to her mind in the most painful way. He would think that she left him or that she didn’t care about him. She couldn’t handle the thought and her heart was in a vice. She wished there was a way that she could’ve just gone back in time and stopped herself. She could’ve listened to him and not pried the hacker or at least tell him about her visit to Seven. Now he’ll be left to wonder why she would lie to him. A part of her wondered that if she got out, if he would stop talking to her. If he would come to his senses and break up and refuse any contact with her. Lying to him was the worst thing she could have possibly done. It was the last thing that he deserved.

He deserved a person who would not only understand and trust him but also be open and honest. Someone who wasn’t stupid enough to jeopardize everything because of their ridiculous, emotion driven impulses. He’ll have to deal with this. He’ll have to deal with her mistakes and his emotions. He’ll have to deal with the media badgering him about what happened to his fiance. If she never got out of here, he’d have to deal with it for the rest of his life until he forgot about her.

If she ever got out of here…

She has to, whether alive or dead. She has to tell the others what had happened with Rika and what V was hiding. But… she doesn’t know everything. The mystery that now plagued her mind as she paced around the cell was not about Rika or V. She wondered who the mint eyed man was and why he hated Seven so much. She shudders when she recalls the way he leaned down and promised to tell her about him later, whispering it like a threat. How he told her that Seven lied when he said he’d keep her safe and the revelation of the bomb rigged apartment. She can’t really find a reason as to why he would lie about that.

He had seemed so bitter and angry about it. About Seven. Could it be that he was brainwashed by Rika just to hate Seven? No, it seemed more likely to her that he had a personal beef with him. Had they been friends? Classmates? Agents in arms? Or had he been foiled by Seven’s excellent hacking skills? She didn’t know, but she craved the truth. If she was going to be stuck here she wanted to know everything she could…

Stuck here…

The man had said that she was to go through induction and Rika mentioned medicine. Her mind danced around the idea that maybe all of the members of this place were not here of their own choosing, but because they too were forced in like her. Did they undergo propaganda to remain here so calmly or was some kind of chemical element to blame? She surely hoped it wasn’t any form of torture. As much as she wanted to know more, she wanted to avoid any personal experiences with the methods.

If she was going to be here, she was going to gather as much as she could so that she could make an escape and be able to tell the truth to her best ability. An escape, depending on how much she found out could either be easy or impossible. She hoped that she could trick her way out, as trying for force didn’t work last time. The memory made her cringe. Her next thought was of the analytical kind.

The mint eyed man, she believed remembering his name to be Saeran, seemed to change his emotions on a dime. He would seem for a moment as if he was genuinely concerned for her wellbeing and in the next passing seconds be brutally aggressive and exceptionally bitter. She dearly hoped that the only thing that she would ever see him again for would be to ask about his hatred for Seven. Beyond that, he scared her with his unstable behavior and she didn’t want to be around him. She certainly didn’t want to be his assistant by any means.

As if on cue, the oaken door creaked open, the shrill sound unnerving her and giving her a sense of doom. She stopped her pacing and watched as a mess of white and pink hair ducked into the room. It’s him.

He strode towards the cell and leaned against the stone wall just outside. He gave a cheeky smile, his misty eyes glowed in the torchlight. He tauntingly held up what was evident to be the keys to the cell door and jingled them, the sound jarring after being in silence for so long. He laughed sadistically to himself and lowered the keys into his back pocket. She gave him a pointed glare in return. She noticed that he had taken off his choker and even in the low light she could she the blueish bruise that she had made earlier, as well as a swollen bruise on his jaw where she had got him twice. She could take satisfaction in that at the very least.

She watched as he slowly approached the bars and curled his fingers around the cold iron. His wolfish grin and eyes pierced her and he made a beckoning motion.

“Come here, I need to tell you something.” He dared and she took a few steps back for safe measure. She shook her head and he glowered at her. She felt like prey under a predator’s scrutiny.

“Whatever you need to say, I can hear it from here.” she stated, hoping for no more argument. The man gave her a sigh lowering his eyes to the ground for a moment.

“I’m not going to hurt you, you know.” he stated his version of the obvious or a lie, she couldn’t tell. She took a deep breath and kept her eyes glued to his.

“You look like you want to hurt me. You’re smiling like a madman.” she said, not caring if it offended him. His grin didn’t waver and he laughed lightly at her words.

“I’m just excited. I’m happy that you’re safe here and that you’ll finally be able to be put at ease. I know life was hard for you out there, but you’ll enjoy it here. I’m also excited that you get to be my assistant after treatment. It’s also a plus to see Luciel so guilty. He blames himself for you coming here, you know that?” And there it was, her heart felt as if it had been stabbed. She didn’t want be treated and fear bubbled up in her. Her assumptions that Seven would feel bad about this had just been proven true.

She held his gaze for who knows how long, feeling the heat of his eye lasers, if she could call it that, burn into her. He studied her expressions trying to come up with some sort of conclusion about how she felt about his words. Silence lingered and clung to Myung along with the chill of the air. After too much quiet and the realization that she wasn’t going to continue to engage in the conversation, he turned and spoke over his shoulder.

“This will be your last night as a lost and corrupted person. You’ll begin induction tomorrow in the morning, so sleep tight. It’s a rough process. It helps if you don’t fight back too much, take it from me.” Was that a look of concern? Sincere concern? She watched as he made it over to the door.

“Wait!” She called after him, dashing to the bars and grabbing them firmly. He froze in his tracks and turned his gaze back to her with a victorious grin. He had meant to leave her hanging and take advantage of her curiosity. She felt dumb for a moment but asked a question anyway.

“Why are you doing this? Do you really think that this place is what you call it? Do you think that it’s paradise?” The words flowed from her mouth without thought. Damn, she was supposed to ask why he hated Seven. Why did she ask this instead?

The man’s smile faded and he was left blank for a moment, taken by surprise with the questions. He seemed to question it himself but gave her an unmistakably honest look.

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry that this has been so scary for you, but you’ll never understand how much better this is for you until you see for yourself. I’m sorry to have been so forceful, but you’ll see that it’s for the best.” his voice wavered for a moment, still looking confused by his own words or by her questions, “Trust me when I say don’t fight the treatment. You’ll get less hurt that way.” He warned, the ghosts of his experiences dance on his face as he remembered his own induction.

Without another word, he left the room and left her to wonder why she felt so conflicted. Of course, she should fight the “treatment” but something in his expression told her that the consequences would be severe if she did. She wondered how he could seem so menacing one moment and then seem as if he cared the next. She didn’t know what she should do in the morning.

He had told her to get rest, but no sleep comforted her that night and the morning came quicker than she had expected.

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[bluesmemethings]

Lord of Shadows starters

“like weapons, do you?”

“it must be worth a lot.”

“how do you know that?”

“people keep telling me that but it doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“we bear the glories and the burdens of our names, the good and the bad our ancestors have done, through all our lives.”

“people are flawed.”

“I’m a pretty big deal.”

“so you were planning on running away I take it?”

“I don’t belong here.”

“I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you.”

“you might think you want to die, but trust me --- you don’t.”

“that’s basically a squid, right?”

“I’ve never been awarded a fish before.”

“I have won for you a fish, my fair one.”

“I couldn’t keep a fish alive, I kill plants just by looking at them.”

“does anyone want to tell him that goldfish are freshwater fish and can’t survive in the ocean?”

“just tell me that he makes you happy.”

“there’s a disturbing smell of calamari wafting from your general direction.”

“I wouldn’t be worried about him, I might be worried about you.”

“he’s just a kid.”

“you look like a cop.”

“you didn’t really think that would work, did you?”

“it could’ve worked.”

“a strange evening, forsooth.”

“don’t you ‘forsooth’ me.”

“most of us mind being naked in front of strangers.”

“really? you’ve never swum naked in the ocean?”

“are you on the floor?”

“I shouldn’t feel bad, right? He was a terrible person. I had to do it.”

“when people die, our dreams of what they could be die with them. even if ours is the hand that ends them.”

“tell me something fun. you haven’t talked about your love life in ages.”

“there’s never going to be anyone else for me.”

“everyone’s afraid of dying.”

“I realize it sounds ridiculous, but I know what I know.”

“I knew I was going to die, and I wasn’t scared.”

“I trust you to not ever give up.”

“don’t poke me with any of your weird little magic wands.”

“so what happens to me?”

“I mean your house is pretty screwed up with your agoraphobic uncle and your weird brother.”

“no, they’re afraid of you. there’s a difference.”

“have you ever wanted a really up-close look at a gross tentacle?”

“no one ever seems to say yes to that question.”

“who wants to carry the tentacle?”

“you’ve got to be kidding, I’m not jumping off that.”

“my father warned me you people would try to kill me.”

“yeah? and what happens if I splatter myself all over the floor?”

“you drive me wild with your sexy talk.”

“who knows what desires a sea demon might possess?”

“I mock you with my sugar cravings.”

“you have blood on your hand.”

“his hair’s too good. I don’t trust people with hair that good.”

“I’ll crash the wedding. I’ll jump out of the cake, but not in a sexy way. Like, with grenades.”

“he lied to me and I forgave him, and then he lied to me again --- what kind of idiot am I?”

“when someone’s been part of your life for that long, cutting them out is like cutting the roots out from under a plant.”

“if you make a wish on it, it’ll come true.”

“look, just let me beat him up for you. you’ll feel so much better.”

“I could beat him up with my feet. they’re registered as lethal weapons.”

“we’re going to get revenge on (name) by folding his towels?”

“there are ways you could hurt him without touching him.”

“no one can read someone else’s mind or guess their reasons. not even you, (name).”

“your heart feels something for her.”

“you and I, together, it would have been . . . such an easy thing.”

“passion is not easy. nor is the lack of it.”

“not everyone has the training to use every tool, and a weapon you don’t know how to wield is wasted.”

“am I the only one who’s read X-Men and realizes why this is a bad idea?”

“I didn’t realize I was lost. I never felt lost.”

“am I imagining you? I was thinking about you and now here you are.”

“when a decision like that is made by a government, it emboldens those who are already prejudiced to speak their deepest thoughts of hate. they assume they are simply brave enough to say what everyone really thinks.”

“no. that was not a human noise.”

“I need you. you might be surprised to hear that.”

“didn’t you all just catch a murderer?”

“besides, what else are you going to do? run away? and go where?”

“fiction is truth, even if it is not fact.”

“tell me again why you think they’re up to something?”

“it’s strange, the things that blind us.”

“I hate feeling like this. I hate being afraid. it makes me feel weak.”

“the way boys tell each other they love each other is very odd.”

“I’m going to use every bad word I know, and look up some new ones.”

“in sum, you may have to launder some of your own towels.”

“the only things he shares with his father are moodiness and a penchant for burglary.”

“it’s a lot more complicated than that, believe me.”

“is there some reason you don’t want to kiss me?”

“okay, I guess that suggestion was a little out of bounds.”

“not bad. you really put your back into it. I didn’t expect that.”

“an arranged marriage? how mundane and medieval.”

“I just don’t believe in doing something for nothing.”

“you’ve had enough dancing. and drinking.”

“I liked dancing with you.”

“I have never known anyone as human as you.”

“I never thought you’d even look at me, not someone like you.”

“you thought you were kissing me because you were intoxicated, not because you wanted to, or because you actually like me.”

“will you not come back to my arms for more kisses?”

“come and speak your words of challenge to my blade.”

“it’s not our strongest position, but it’s something.”

“(name) ! that’s how you black out and wake up the nest day under a bridge with a tattoo that says ‘I LOVE HELICOPTERS’.“

“sometimes we must deceive the ones we love.”

“I cannot be the instrument that causes him pain.”

“you enter a cave. inside the cave is an egg, lit from within and glowing. you know it beats with your dreams --- not the ones you have during the day, but the ones you half-remember in the morning. it splits open. what emerges?”

“you will be the champion of your people.”

“show no mercy, (name).”

“is that a ferret?”

“all that death and destruction and what will you gain?”

“whatever gods have done this, they are gracious to bring me the one my soul loves, in my last moments.”

“It is true as they say, the pain leaves you as you die.”

“I don’t need help! I don’t need to be saved!”

“I was baptized in blood and fire.”

“you are soft, gentle as angels are gentle.”

“you think angels are gentle. they are anything but.” 

“they bring justice in blood and heavenly fire. they take vengeance with fists of iron.” 

“their glory is such it would burn out your eyes if you looked at them. it is a cold and brutal glory.”

“do you think I am someone who has anything to lose?”

 “I might kill you for being so stupid.”

“weasel face, you’re surprisingly helpful when you want to be.”

“I said I was tired of threatening you, not that I was going to stop doing it.”

“how did you know I would need saving?”

“don’t feel bad, he always falls asleep yelling that.”

“I spent so much time looking for revenge, but finding it didn’t make me happy.”

“I will always choose you, too.”

“I thought I would die this night. I was prepared for it. I was ready.”

“for any blood ritual, willing blood is better than unwilling.”

“I would rather be mad in my way than yours.”

“I would bargain with you, and here are things I would not have you be ignorant of when we do.”

“times change, and so do alliances.”

“that is beyond your power.”

“are they ever useful?”

“you’re staying within these walls and that’s final.”

“I will always come back to you (name).”

“I don’t believe in providence, or an interventionist Heaven.”

“are you quoting shakespeare?”

“speaking of dreams, you have been in mine, and often.”

“we could together slay a frost giant or devour a deer.”

“then what are you doing here, if you are not family?”

“I sense the distance but do not understand its cause.”

“it’s clear none of you have practice in observing the dead.”

“I have done everything to get your attention outside of smacking you in the head with a ouija board.”

“is he in Heaven? I mean, it seems so unlikely.”

“if you steal any of the books from the library, I will know, and you’ll be sorry.”

“in my time children were seen and not heard, and they certainly didn’t complain.”

“it is better that you go, that I might forget your fair, cruel face, and heal my heart.”

“your pretense does not fool me, gnome. my eye will be upon you.”

“more scones, less death.”

“I didn’t know you were that invested in our relationship.”

“so you admit that you’re a control freak?”

“draw me like one of your french girls.”

“the first time we watched Titanic, you cried.”

“we’ll have to figure another way in.”

“who would ever want movies or TV when there are books?”

“so tell them I ran off there and you had to catch me.”

“no trespassers usually means the local kids have made it into a hang out and the whole place is covered with empty candy wrappers and booze bottles.”

“this doesn’t look deserted. not by a long shot.”

“why are you trying to ruin y good time?”

“I get my caffeine the way right-thinking people get it. from chocolate!”

“the only people that know about (name) are people he wants to know.”

“it’s not your fault, (name), she’s just being cruel.”

“Holmes never lets Watson do the talking. Watson is backup.”

“war like this benefit no one.”

“when you strike at a king, you must kill him.”

“not my favorite nickname. I prefer ‘Our Lord and Master’ or maybe ‘Unambiguously the Hottest’.”

“was that before or after you attacked him?”

“is this about my boyfriend? jealous, (name)?”

“love me, because nobody ever has.”

“that’s the problem with revenge --- you wind up destroying the innocent as well as the guilty.”

“is this like when the family dog dies and they say he’s living on a farm now?”

“you don’t know a lot of things about me.”

“sadly, that is his name. hence his life of evil.”

[cassandraclare]

Q&A: WHY?

books-netflix-and-pizza said: Hi, one question. Why?

So, below this cut is a discussion of WHY a character in LoS died. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT READ LOS.

catherine-crebbin2001 said:

SPOILER ALERT FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT READ LoS Hey Cassie, I have just finished reading Lord of Shadows and I wanted to know if it was always going to be Livvy who died? Did you cry as you wrote the scene or cackle knkwing that your readers would be torn in two and spend hours mourning the death of a child as well as Emma and the Blackthorn children ? How do you come up with the characters names (for all series)? I wanted to know how Morgenstern was a name as it was not on the list in the codex?

ginevre said:

I just finished and I know I must be one of many who is cyring in your in-box but Whhyyyy??? Why did she have to die? Why did you do it? I am so utterly shattered.. please you need to explain. I need closure. I feel a bit like Emma, desperate to know why her parents had to die. I need to know why. Please..

Hello! Yes, of course, this is a question I am getting a lot, and expected to get.

This was always a story in which Livvy died. When I was writing her in CoHF, I knew she would die in Lord of Shadows. I even knew how and where. In a sense Livvy’s death, taking place as it does in the center of the trilogy, is what this story is about.

I often think when I get this kind of question that the “Why did so and so have to die?” has a lot to do with people expecting villains to die and no one else. There are a lot of stories like that. Villains make a lot of poor choices, and often have to be killed in order that their evil be stopped: a death like that is easily understood.  But when someone is innocent, like Livvy, then that’s not a reason: obviously she doesn’t have to be stopped before she blows up the universe. Livvy has done nothing wrong and does not deserve death, so why?

And that’s where I believe there are different kinds of stories. They serve different purposes. There are stories where no one ever dies except the bad people who deserve it, and there are stories where good people die because that is what happens in real life, and one of the most universal experiences humans have is losing someone they loved to death and asking themselves: Why? Why did this happen? Another important human experience we share is when people are killed because of injustice, because their government or someone in power has hurt them, and of course we ask ourselves why and how that could have happened and why would a government do that to its own people, and in a lot of ways those are the questions that drive The Dark Artifices, which are pretty overtly political books.

As for fictional (as in, how does this build the story) reasons Livvy had to die: this is a story about Shadowhunters entering into one of the darkest periods Shadowhunters will ever know. These are people who go out and risk death against demons all the time; they die early and often. Throughout these books the Blackthorns put themselves at risk again and again and again. Livvy is injured at the Shadow Market, almost killed by the Riders: she escapes death barely over and over until at last, she doesn’t. Because if no innocent Shadowhunters ever die, what that says about the story is that in fact the risk is no risk at all, and unless you’re a bad person it doesn’t matter that you’re bravely out there fighting demons. You’ll be fine, as long as you don’t plan a war or a demon invasion.

But that is not this story. Everyone is not safe as long as they make decent choices. Jon didn’t deserve to be killed either, nor did Arthur. Nor did Max or Raphael in TMI, or Jessamine in TID. None of these series have ever protected all the good people, though I understand that Livvy’s is in many ways the most brutal and intimate death we’ve had to witness and that is very hard. Writing Julian and Emma’s reactions was nearly impossible. It doesn’t get easier, even if you know what’s coming and that it has to happen. I’ve been asked “Why not kill Zara, Samantha, Manuel, Jessica, Horace, any of the other awful annoying bigots etc?” Well, partly because that reinforces the idea that you die because you’re bad — which is not much comfort for all of those of us who’ve lost someone we love. We know they didn’t die because they were rotten people, and literature that tells you that they did is the opposite of comforting or realistic. And also because this story is about the Blackthorns; none of those people were important to the Blackthorns, and killing them doesn’t change the Blackthorns’ world at all.

The Blackthorn’s reality has always been structured around the one belief that Julian and all of his siblings (and Emma) live by: that the Blackthorn family must be kept intact, and that there is some way to control that completely. Everything Julian and Emma have done — and the other characters are not exempt, because they all, also, have been part of this — has been about controlling a desperate situation. In fact, they’ve been so good at it that I think, in reading, it’s sometimes easy to forget how fragile their situation is, how it rests on a tower of lies, careful concealments, acting, and pretenses. No one could blame Julian: of course he doesn’t want his family split up and destroyed. But as the Blackthorns move forward in Lord of Shadows they take ever-greater risks until they’re literally in a situation where they’re battling immortal Riders all by themselves and if not for Annabel’s sudden appearance they’d probably all be dead. (Which is a little ironic.)

In other words, they’ve been in an untenable situation that has been held together as long as it has because of Emma’s bravery and Julian’s wits, determination, and skill at manipulating, and everyone — Diana, Cristina, Mark, Ty, Livvy — has helped this situation to continue. The story has been one of watching Team Good carefully balance one block on top of another and then another and then another. And however skilled you are and however good your intentions, eventually the last block will be one too many and the tower will collapse.

This is not a punishment for the Blackthorns. This is not because Julian was wrong and did bad things, nor did any of his siblings (though we have certainly seen that Julian is willing to do just about scarily anything, and his last plan, while brilliant and absolutely would-have-worked-if-Magnus-hadn’t-gotten-sick-which-Julian-could-not-have-foretold, was more than a little terrifying) — this is because the reason they’re in this situation in the first place is because the Clave is rotten at its heart.

The Clave has always been the shadowy secondary villain of these books. They are a government, and like all governments, mostly made up of a mix of people: some good and some bad. However, since TMI — really since the decision to enforce the Cold Peace — the Clave has shown more and more of its bad, reactionary, prejudiced side. And we’ve seen more and more of how their attitudes have affected anyone they see as deviating from a rigidly enforced norm: in Alec’s story, in Helen’s story, in Mark’s, in Diana’s, in Ty’s. The Blackthorns are suffering because of the Clave. They are forced into this impossible position because of the Clave. And when it falls apart explosively, when Livvy is murdered in the Council Hall, there’s a straight line from the Clave’s rigid lack of consideration for their own to her death.

And without her death, the real consequences of the really bad things the Clave has been doing might have been something we knew, but it would not have been something we (or the characters) felt. Will the characters be able to make meaning and change out of Livvy’s death: will this be the event that topples the Clave at last? In the abstract Livvy’s death is above all things a political death: that is why she dead where she did, when she did, and how she did. Great change is often not possible without great loss. That is true for people as well as politics. Without Livvy’s death, the plot and world changes that drive Queen of Air and Darkness wouldn’t have happened; without her death, the character changes that drive Queen of Air and Darkness wouldn’t have happened. This story would not have been this story: it would have been a different, and I believe, lesser story. (I know you will have to wait to see that; I hope you can hang in there.)

This story has always had a gun on the mantelpiece. From book one we’ve known that Malcolm and Annabel’s tale parallels our current story. We’ve known in the end it’s Blackthorn blood. We’ve known that the story of Annabel is one of an innocent person brutalized and killed and that her blood is on Blackthorn hands and on Clave hands. The idea of that death being revenged has hung over the Blackthorns like a scythe since Lady Midnight. Malcolm and Annabel are a mirror to Emma, Jules and the others. It’s easy for them to judge Malcolm for what he’s done, and did, since Annabel’s death: what about when they’re in that same position? Will they make better choices? Can they put away the idea of revenge? Will they be able to be better people than Malcolm and Annabel were able to be? Those are the big questions, and they can only be asked because Livvy died, because in order to make their story an effective mirror of the past, an equally big loss had to be sustained in the present.

It’s painful to read about others’ pain, but that in part is why we have books, because they hold a mirror up to life: they show us people going through what we’ve gone through, they show us that they make it and how they made it, and that matters. As they say: We read to know we are not alone. Livvy’s death will not be glossed over; it will have meaning and more repercussions that can be guessed at now. People are going to say Livvy deserved better, and she did; that’s the point. This is the story of an unjust death (more than one), and how it will reverberate not just through a family but through a society. It was necessary not just to define the shape and theme of the series but to turn all the other characters into the people they’re going to need to be for the rest of TDA and TWP. And it was necessary to change the nature of how the characters related to the Clave. People have long wondered what would be the moment the Clave ceased to be a necessary evil and became the villain of the series in truth: this is the start of that moment of rebellion, and Livvy is its symbol.

Ave atque vale, Livia Blackthorn.

[onlyxthexchosen-m]

|| THE WOMAN || @ONLYXTHEXCHOSEN

“Ah,” breathed James, “love. The world’s GREATEST and MOST EXQUISITE mystery…” The breadcrumb trail had at last lead him here, to the port of Dover, from where MISS. IRENE ADLER would have surely escaped across the sea had James been so much as a second slower in coming to his ultimate conclusion. “LOVE, which you have so expertly used to tear down England’s establishment piece by piece, a RING here and a PHOTOGRAPH there. A MASTER PLAN for which I can only applaud you, dear lady; especially given that you so very nearly succeeded. You have certainly at least succeeded in leaving q u i t e the trail of BROKEN HEARTS and EMPTY BANK VAULTS in your wake.”

Now his previously severe countenance softened into a smile, tender as any expression gifted her by her other M A R K S, her unlucky L O V E R S. “England will never forget you, that is for certain.” NEITHER WILL I, James left unspoken, but heavy in the summer’s air between them, warm and hazy as an embrace. NEITHER WILL I, TO DATE MY BEST AND BRIGHTEST COUNTERPART, THE MOST BRILLIANT MIND THAT I HAVE EVER – Dark eyes flicked up to meet her own gaze, as he took one step closer and then another, not with threat but instead with P R O M I S E. Dear God, her perfume was intoxicating. Jasmine flowers and something else indescribable, yet undeniably heady and romantic. She was close enough to touch, but he did not yet dare, instead keeping his somehow agonizing distance. “LOVE WAS YOUR UNDOING,” he murmured then, so so softly. “Had you loved any other than I, Irene, you would have escaped with all of your gains intact, held onto all that you hold dear. BUT…” Why did he TREMBLE? He was unafraid, this was not FEAR. Now his gaze was searching, seeking, confirmation given in EXPRESSION – WORDS COULD LIE, except perhaps for one of her kind but – expressions regardless, REGARDLESS, they never could hold falsehood. They always betrayed, in the end. “But, I think that you wanted for me to find you.” She had left him a riddle that she surely would have known that he could decipher. All trails and paths lead right back here, to her, to this moment. Swallowing, his hand so very gently took her own, PALM TO PALM their fingers laced together, their heartbeats matching in rising frenzied pace, the candlelight dimming, her eyes glimmering, GLITTERING in the half-light, inescapable pupil reaction. Lips parting, his own RESPONSE teased out by their closeness and the heat of the room. Never before had he thought of such improprieties,IMPURITIES. Never before had he been so conflicted and so SMOTHERED, no room remaining for reason or for logic, only SENSATION. By God, how much he longed to kiss her, if she would let him, to touch her, in whatever way she might lead him! By God, how much he longed to FALL for this marvelous, incredible woman! LOVE, THEN, WAS HIS OWN UNDOING, even if he resisted. They had no more time to spare. OH SO GENTLY, the Great Detective pressed his lips to the Woman’s cheek. Outside, police sirens and running footsteps… Scotland Yard and the Holy Five both at once coming to the same deduction that he himself had found. Then a decision, crucially made. “I never found you,” James whispered, “you were the only one to ever out-match me.” RUN, DARLING, AND NEVER LET THEM FIND YOU. “Though you must least leave behind the government intelligence that you have diligently collected through your exploits.”

What a merry game they had played! How cleverly he had matched her, move for move, step for step! 

How very much she had fallen in love with him, like a star falling from the heavens and crashed to earth…

And then it wasn’t a game. Not anymore. This was solid and real and terrifying and agonizing and––

Why? Why did it have to end like this? For the first time in her many years she at last regrets her misdeeds, not for the sake of those she had conned or any supposedly broken hearts pining away for her… No. It was for and because of this man before her. This brilliant and warm and extraordinary man… Had you loved any other than I… Had she only been better. If only she had perhaps it would have no need to be so brutally ended on the deck of a ship leaving for mainland Europe, killed ever it had the chance to grow and to flourish… If only she had perhaps––

She would never have met him. 

The thought is unbearable even knowing that it is to end in sorrow. The thought that she would never have met him. That she would never have matched wits with him. Would never have witnessed not only his brilliance but his compassion. 

The very same compassion that seems to move him now…

His apparent condemnation of her adventures––no matter how complimentary––had burned her, more than any fire ever could… and yet, the tone that had entered his voice afterwards… the look in his eyes… had soothed away any pain that might have been felt, and when he stepped toward her, when he stood so close…

But, I think that you wanted for me to find you.

And there, at last, he had solved it.

She cannot stop the way her breath catches, the shaky, faltering inhale that follows… How silly it should seem for one such as she, one who has, as the Great Detective had said, nearly brought London––perhaps even England––to her knees… and yet here she stands so affected by his presence that even a function so simple and effortless as breathing becomes a conscious thought.

His eyes… Dark and warm and beautiful and… so very focused on her. Her own eyes cannot seem to break their hold on her until at last he begins to close what little distance remains between them, leaning down and her gaze drops to his lips before her eyes drift closed, waiting, daring to hope…

A tender kiss to her cheek. How very unromantic some might think it, but oh God! how it rips through her! So simple a gesture. So chaste. And yet, with that small contact she feels so many things––so very many things––and chief among them…

Love.

Love. Adoration. And yet even so such exemplary and equally terrible restraint. Uncertainty and fear and sorrow and desperation and longing. 

And so dawns her own realization as heartbreaking as her understanding of his feelings. He is my One. My heart. My soul. I will never love another…

If only they had more  t i m e … 

Her eyes open, seeking and finding his gaze once more, and there is what she had felt… there so very clearly seen within his eyes, even as he begins to speak again, saying that he had never found her, telling her to go, to remain free… to leave him.

All of her adventures. All of her intrigues. All of her exploits. All of her acquisitions and treasures and trinkets. She would give them up. She would give up all of it… just for another moment with this man…

How can she leave?

But she cannot stay… To stay would mean, at the least, a cell and irons. A death sentence.

One shaking, gloveless hand reaches, her dainty fingers so very, very tenderly brushing his cheek. How she longs to bring him down to her. To kiss him the way she so desperately wants. To––

But the sirens are drawing nearer and the Captain is urgently insisting that they depart and there is. no. time.

And so, her hand retreats, slipping into her purse… and then pressing an object into his hand. 

“There is the key to finding the information. It’s all there. All of it. I––”

I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.

And yet, even with tears threatening to overflow, she forces a smile onto red-tinted lips.

“You’ll miss our little game, Doctor Watson.” 

And I will miss you. More than even I could ever express in words…

A muted and mirthless chuckle. “No one will ever play it so well as me.”

Tell me that no one ever will. Tell me that there will never be anyone who could ever hope to outshine me. Tell me that no one will ever make you forget… Tell me that––

Without waiting for answer––perhaps she cannot bear the thought that it might not follow––she suddenly pulls away from him, feeling like a physical blow the departure, the loss of contact between their previously intertwined fingers, the distance where had been such wonderful closeness…

And yet, she turns her back to him and, with all of her will and her strength, she makes herself to take one step, and then another, away from him, away from everything…

Already how cold and empty the world seems…