#5/8 drop in anchor

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

[kathryn-maraudersversion]

Serpents & Stars Part 4

Summary: You are not falling for the Marauders. You are not. They, however, seem determined to prove otherwise. And when James Potter pushes you a little too far, you finally snap.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders (James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin) x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9

Your plan was simple.

You were going to pretend nothing had changed.

You were going to ignore the way your stomach flipped when James smiled.

You were going to ignore the way Sirius’ teasing didn’t bother you as much anymore.

You were going to ignore the way Remus’ quiet warmth made your chest ache.

You were not falling for them, and you were going to prove it. The next morning, you arrived at breakfast with a purpose. You sat at the farthest end of the Slytherin table, as far from the Marauders as physically possible.

Did that stop James from finding you? Of course not.

Did it stop Sirius from sliding into the seat beside you like he belonged there? No.

Did it stop Remus from watching you, patient and knowing as ever? Absolutely not.

James leaned in, all confidence and mischief. “Miss me, sweetheart?”

You took a deep breath. Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react.

“I wish I could say I didn’t know you,” you muttered, stabbing your eggs aggressively.

Sirius snickered. “She’s in a mood today.”

Remus sipped his tea. “She’s been avoiding us.”

You froze, damn Remus and his stupid perception.

“I have not,” you said, voice clipped.

James raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t show up to the library yesterday.”

“I was busy.”

“You left the great hall the second we arrived.”

“I had things to do.”

Sirius smirked. “You ran away from us last night.”

Your jaw clenched. “I. Did. Not.”

James tilted his head, studying you, and then the bastard grinned. “Ohhh,” he said, something dangerous and delighted flickering in his eyes. “You’re scared.”

You slammed your fork down. “I am not scared of you, Potter.”

James’ smirk only widened. “Not of me. Of us.”

That was it. The last crack in your armour shattered.

You stood up so fast your chair scraped against the floor. The entire Great Hall turned to look.

But you didn’t care.

You glared at James, anger burning through you like wildfire. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

James blinked, clearly not expecting this much rage.

Sirius sat up straighter, intrigued. Remus, of course, just watched.

“You think you can just waltz into my life and what? Wear me down? Make me fall at your feet?” Your voice was low, sharp, venomous. “Because it’s a game to you, isn’t it? The thrill of the chase, the Slytherin girl who hates you, the one challenge you haven’t won yet.”

James frowned. “That’s not-”

You laughed, but it was bitter. “Well, congratulations, Potter. You win.”

His eyes widened. Sirius’ smirk faded. Remus’ jaw tensed.

You took a step closer, your voice dropping. “You want to know why I’ve been avoiding you? Because I let you get in my head. I let you make me think-” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply. “But I won’t make that mistake again.”

You turned to walk away.

And that should have been the end of it.

But James Potter was a Gryffindor.

Which meant he had absolutely no self-preservation.

He grabbed your wrist before you could leave. “Wait.”

His grip wasn’t tight, but it was firm. Anchoring.

And when you looked at him.

Gone was the teasing glint in his hazel eyes. Gone was the cocky smirk. There was only sincerity. Frustration. Something raw and real.

“Is that really what you think?” James asked, voice low. “That we’re just playing with you?”

You couldn’t answer because if you said it out loud, it would mean you believed it and deep down, you weren’t sure you did.

Remus sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You are impossible.”

Sirius leaned forward, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “You think we don’t mean it? That we don’t actually care?”

Your throat felt tight.

“You call it a game,” James murmured, “but we’ve already lost.”

Your breath caught.

James let go of your wrist, stepping back. “Go on, then. Walk away.”

Sirius leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. If that’s what you really want.”

Remus just nodded, as if he already knew you wouldn’t.

And that was the problem because you could. You could walk away. Right now. Leave them behind. Pretend this had never happened. You could end it here. So why weren’t you moving? Why did your feet feel like they were glued to the ground? Why was your heart pounding like it was trying to tell you something? You clenched your fists. You were so close to freedom.

So why-

Why did it feel like letting go of them would be the real loss?

Taglist: @amatoanima @flaviaandbooks @nymanas @maraudersgirlsposts @bridkesby @yvessentials @treefairy-28 @navs-bhat @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @zoleea-exultant @hermionelove @starmaniii @kitcat912

[slyandthefamilybook]

okay because I'm seeing some misinfo, here's the story on the Key Bridge collapse

What was the Key Bridge?

The Francis Scott Key Bridge (also called the Key Bridge, the Beltway Bridge, and the Outer Harbor Crossing) was steel-arch continuous-through-truss bridge spanning the Patapsco River south of the Baltimore Harbor. The bridge took 5 years to build and cost an estimated $145 million ($735 million in today's dollars). The full bridge project (including approaches) was 10.9 miles long, but the stretch over the Patapsco was 1.6 miles long and 4 lanes wide, and comprised a length of I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. It traveled between Hawkins Point and Dundalk, and in addition to the I-895 Harbor Tunnel was the primary way for Marylanders to cross from the Eastern Shore to the West. The bridge carried an estimated 11.5 million vehicles per year. There is a lane for ships to pass under the Key Bridge with enough clearance.

Was it structurally sound?

The bridge received its latest inspection in 2022 and received a 6/9 score, which is considered "fair" by federal standards. There was a concern with one of its columns, which was downgraded from a health index of 77.8 to 65.9, but it is not clear yet if this was one of the columns struck by the ship. In 1980 the bridge was struck by a different cargo ship which destroyed a concrete support structure, but the bridge itself was unharmed. There is as of yet no evidence that the bridge collapsed because of poor condition. Experts say the lesson to be learned is about the size and weight of modern cargo ships, and that the bridge was not to blame. Engineers have noted, however, that the bridge's piers lacked protective devices such as fenders.

What was the ship?

The MV Dali is a container ship flying the Singapore flag. It is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and operated by Synergy Marine Group Ltd. The ship is currently being chartered by Maersk, a Dutch shipping company. It was built in 2015 by Hyundai. The ship is 980 feet long and 157 feet wide. The ship's gross tonnage (its internal volume) is 95,128 tons (190,256,000 pounds). Its deadweight (the weight of cargo it can carry) is 116,851 tons (233,702,000 pounds). The ship was carrying 3,000 containers. The engine is a MAN-B&W 9S90ME putting out 41,480 kilowatts (55,626 horsepower).

Over its lifetime the Dali has been inspected 27 times, and only 2 faults were ever found. On June 27, 2023 the Dali was held in port in Chile due to an issue with the propulsion system. According to an inspector the pressure gauges on the heating system were "unreadable". The fault was fixed before the ship left port.

The Dali is crewed by 22 Indian nationals including 2 maritime pilots.

What happened?

The Dali arrived at the Port of Baltimore on March 23, 2024. At 12:44 AM on March 26, 2024 the Dali left port, beginning its journey to Colombo, Sri Lanka. At 01:26 AM the ship suffered a "complete blackout" and began to drift out of the shipping lane. It is not yet known what caused the electrical failure. The backup generator did not power the propulsion system. At around 01:26 AM the crew of the Dali sent a mayday distress call to the Maryland Department of Transportation (MDOT) informing them of the loss of power and that a collision with the Key Bridge was possible. The anchors were dropped as an emergency measure to attempt to slow or stop the vessel. At the request of one of the pilots traffic flow over the bridge was immediately halted. Black smoke was seen coming from the Dali, which experts believe was the result of the crew managing to restart the power system to regain some maneuvering capability.

At 01:28 AM the Dali, traveling at 8 knots (considered to be a fast speed) collided with a support strut beneath the Key Bridge's metal truss at the southwest end of the bridge. A Baltimore resident said he heard the collision and that it "felt like an earthquake". Emergency teams began receiving 911 calls at 01:30 AM, and the Baltimore Police Department were alerted at 01:35 AM. One of the officers present radioed that he was going to go onto the bridge to alert the construction crew as soon as a second officer arrived, but the bridge collapsed seconds later.

What was the damage?

The Key Bridge has completely collapsed. The metal truss relies on structural tension from the bridge itself to maintain its rigidity. As soon as one of the support columns was destroyed, the rest of the bridge quickly followed.

The damage to the Dali is reported as minimal. The ship was impaled by the bridge's structure above the waterline, but has maintained watertight integrity. The crew has not reported any water contamination from its 1.8 million gallons of marine fuel. 13 containers carrying potentially hazardous material were damaged, and are being inspected by a team of Coast Guard divers. At least 5 vehicles including 3 passenger cars and a cement mixer were detected underwater, but authorities do not believe they were occupied

Who was hurt?

The crew of the Dali reports no casualties, except one crewmember who was hospitalized for minor injuries. There was a crew of 8 construction workers on the Key Bridge filling in potholes. 2 were immediately pulled from the water by rescue crews, with 1 being rushed to emergency care and the other reporting minor injuries and refusing treatment. The hospitalized worker has since been discharged. 1 of those rescued was Mexican. The remaining 6 remain missing. Of those 6, 2 have been identified:

Miguel Luna from El Salvador

Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval from Honduras

Of the remaining 4, 2 are Guatemalan nationals. Neither have been identified, but the Guatemalan Foreign Affairs Ministry has stated that they were a 26-year-old from San Luis, Petén, and a 35-year-old from Camotán, Chiquimula. The other 2 are presumed to be Mexican.

Rescue Efforts

The Coast Guard was immediately deployed for search-and-rescue operations. Military Blackhawk helicopters were seen over the river. Rescue efforts were ended at 07:30 PM on March 26, 2024 due to darkness, fog, and cold temperatures. Rear Admiral Shannon Gilreath said "Based on the length of time that we've gone in the search, the extensive search efforts that we put into it, the water temperature -- at this point, we do not believe that we're going to find any of these individuals still alive". Recovery operations resumed at 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 with all 6 workers presumed dead.

No divers have yet entered the water underneath the bridge. Supervisory Special Agent Brian Hudson of the FBI's Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team said "the debris field is pretty sizable and I know that’s why they’re hesitant to send divers down because some of the debris is still shifting, the heavy weight of the rocks". The FBI has deployed Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) equipped with cameras and SONAR.

Aftermath

At 05:08 AM on March 26, 2024 Transportation Secretary Pete Buttegiege posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"I’ve spoken with Gov. Moore and Mayor Scott to offer USDOT’s support following the vessel strike and collapse of the Francis Scott Key bridge. Rescue efforts remain underway and drivers in the Baltimore area should follow local responder guidance on detours and response."

At 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 President of the Maryland State Senate Bill Ferguson posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"Over 15,000 in the Balt region rely on daily operations at Port of Baltimore to put food on the table. Today, with Del. @LukeClippinger and colleagues representing Port, we are drafting an emergency bill to provide for income replacement for workers impacted by this travesty."

At around 09:40 AM on March 26, 2024 Maryland Governor Wes Moore and Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared a State of Emergency to take effect at 10:30 AM March 26, 2024, and to last 30 days. Baltimore's Emergency Operations Plan was put into effect.

More than 1,000 personnel from the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) have been deployed to assist with clearing the debris and rebuilding efforts. President Joe Biden has pledged that the federal government will pay for the entire reconstruction of the bridge.

Jennifer Homendy, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) has recovered the Dali's data recorder, and will be inspecting both the Key Bridge and the Dali to determine the cause of the crash and the collapse. She says the investigation could take up to 2 years to complete.

Was it intentional?

According to William DelBagno, head of the FBI's Baltimore field office: "There is no specific or credible information to suggest there are ties to terrorism in this incident".

Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas said: "There are no indications this was an intentional act".

At least 3 people have been killed in accidents related to ships operated by Synergy in the past 6 years. In 2018 a person on board a Synergy ship in Australia was killed in an accident relating to the vessel's personnel elevator. In 2019 an officer aboard a Synergy vessel in Singapore fell overboard while performing maintenance. In 2023 at least one sailor was killed when a Synergy ship collided with a dredging ship in the Philippines. In the first two cases safety inspectors noted that proper safety procedures had not been adhered to.

Sources

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

[sanesaviour]

Omg can’t believe I finished drawing all of them (at least ones I’ve planed)

MJ🌹

Headcanons:

1. She is super popular, everyone knows her, everyone wants to be friends with her, she is invited to every party… but still she likes to spend most of the time with Peter and Harry

2. She lowkey roasts Flash Thompson every chance she gets, especially when he tries to act tough

3. She figured out Peter was Spiderman way before he told her - his excuses were just too bad. She just waited for him to admit it himself… she knows like everything about Spiderman, if she ever got web shooters she’d use them way better than Peter did his first time and she keeps a hidden stash of spidey photos she’s too embarrassed to admit she takes for fun, despite being a serious journalist

4. She and Peter are childhood best friends, they went through lot together and their friendship is most valuable thing for both of them and even if they argue they always make up quickly, they know each other too well to stay mad for long

5. I think Harrys and MJs relationship is bit complicated, they went through fighting for Peters attention (Harry was 2nd friend of Peter ever so MJ was naturally jealous about it), to being ��friends” just to make Peter happy, to secretly crushing on each other, to being real friends… but after Venom incident Harrys and Peters friendship strained and so did his friendship with MJ, she still wants to help him tho

6. Luke & MJ - Luke is one of the team who gets along with MJ best (besides Peter), he sees MJ as Peter’s anchor and keeps an eye on her whenever things get too dangerous

7. She always admired Ava’s no nonsense attitude but on the other side Ava at first did not like MJs party girl vibes at all… but after she get to know her better, bc of Peter, they actually make quite good duo and they start spending lot of their free time together

8. Sam is really impressed by her from beginning, he tries to be friends with her so hard, he just can’t keep eyes of her (she is naturally really beautiful) and she knows it! She randomly drops lines like “you are such an amazing FRIEND” just to make sure he doesn’t get any wrong ideas. But she likes him tho but only as friend… also after some time MJ has theory that Sam is way too invested in pages dedicated to make fun of Spiderman or just mocking Spiderman in general. She has notebook labeled “Nova (?)” where she gathers evidence (after finding out that Peter is Spiderman it’s pretty easy to find out who are the other members of spidey team lol, also when they find out she knows they immediately starts to blame each other for telling her and she just hit them with “you really think it was that hard to guess”)

9. MJ thinks Danny is weird and his calm zen wisdoms sometimes gets on her nerves… she respect him, but still thinks he’s weirdest person in their circle

10. Even tho she is not superhero, she saved the team before - usually by using her investigative skills or just quick thinking.

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

okay here's part 6! this literally was not meant to be as long as it is, but i got carried away while doing some archery research... and here we are.

hope you guys enjoy! part 7 will be uploaded tomorrow!

(p.s if you're an archer/know archery and i get stuff wrong please don't yell at me, google can only give me so much info hdshdshdh)

the post/thread that started this whole au

dinner scene: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 7 | part 8

there's a masterlist now!

*athena had left not long after midday, but not before saying she’d see them all later at dinner*

*telemachus, odysseus & penelope are all together in the palace gardens*

*penelope is sitting on a bench, with odysseus also laying on it & his head in her lap as they watch telemachus practice using a bow and arrow* 

telemachus: *trying to aim for the centre of the target in front of him*

telemachus: *struggling but wants to show his parents what his training with athena is doing for him*

telemachus: *lets the bowstring go*

*the arrow flies through the air, but misses the centre of the target completely and hits the edge of the target*

telemachus: *drops the arm holding his bow to his side and sighs in disappointment*

penelope: *looks at her son and then looks down at odysseus*

odysseus: *looks up from his son to meet penelope’s eyes*

*both seem to have a conversation through their eyes*

odysseus: *smiles and nods at penelope*

odysseus: *gets up from penelope’s lap and walks over to telemachus*

penelope: *smiles while watching odysseus head over to their son*

odysseus: don’t be disappointed son, go ahead and nock another arrow

telemachus: *does as his father says*

odysseus: now draw and anchor, as you normally would

telemachus: *again does what odysseus asks*

odysseus: *looks at his son’s pose* ah i see some of the problem

odysseus: *gently takes hold of telemachus’ drawn back elbow* 

odysseus: ok your elbow needs to be a bit higher, and just straighten your back a little…

telemachus: *follows odysseus’ instructions*

odysseus: *stepping back so he’s not in the way* that's perfect! now breathe in as you would, but not to the point it hurts! 

odysseus: and then as you go to let the string go breathe out but not all the way, about only half way

telemachus: *breathes in as he aims for the centre of the target again*

telemachus: *steadily breathes out and releases the string*

*the arrow flies through the air again… and hits just slightly off the centre of of the target*

telemachus: *looks at the target in disbelief but in also joy*

odysseus: *cheers in happiness for his son* you did it!

penelope: *clapping and calling out to her son* well done telemachus! 

telemachus: *drops his bow and turns to his father*

telemachus: *gives odysseus a hug* thank you father!

odysseus: *hugging his son back* no need to thank me, i’m happy to be able to help teach you!

telemachus: *lets odysseus go while smiling*

odysseus: *looks down at telemachus’ bow then picks up it up and grabs an arrow*

odysseus: *nocks it with ease and shoots it in the blink of an eye*

*the arrow hits the dead centre of the target* 

odysseus: *turns and hands the bow back to telemachus*

odysseus: now, how about you keep practising? once you have this completely down i’ll teach you other things you can do with a bow

odysseus: *hand under his chin in thought* i’ll have to get an archer’s ring commissioned for you

telemachus: *stares at his father in shock at how easy he made that look* i didn't know you knew so much about archery- i mean…

telemachus: *thinks back to when odysseus shot an arrow through 12 axe heads*

penelope: *giggles to herself as she realises even their son doesn’t know about his father’s mastery & skill with a bow*

odysseus: *looks over at penelope, and then he understands just why she's giggling*

odysseus: *now looks at telemachus with an amused expression*

telemachus: *sees his father’s expression*

telemachus: *holds his hands (with the bow still in one of them) up hoping he hasn’t offended his father*

telemachus: not saying you didn’t know how to use one! 

telemachus: i thought you just knew the basics and that ‘trick’ you did to prove yourself, was originally just to impress mother?

telemachus: *puts his arms down and then looks down towards his father’s hands* besides, that ring you wear on your thumb is just a normal one like the other’s you wear isn’t it? 

telemachus: it certainly doesn’t look like any archer ring i've seen before at the markets…

odysseus: *laughs to himself and holds up his hand* oh this? you’re right it doesn’t look like an archer ring.

odysseus: *rubs his thumb along his index finger* that's because it isn’t a normal one

telemachus: *looks again at his father’s ring to see it now has a point to it like any standard archer ring*

telemachus: *looks up at odysseus’ face, then back down to his hand and then back up to his face again* 

telemachus: but- you- it- hOW?

odysseus: *rubs his thumb against his index finger again and the ring is back to looking like any standard ring* 

odysseus: *looks from telemachus to penelope* ask your mother, it was a gift from her

telemachus: *immediately swivels to face her*

penelope: well, as you’ve now found out…your father isn't one to let people know he’s a skilled archer, so i ‘commissioned’ an archer ring to be made for him that could hide as a normal ring when not needed. 

telemachus: wow! the jeweller who made this certainly is skilled then

penelope: *thinks back to asking athena if she could try to get hephaestus to make one*

penelope: yeah skilled indeed 

telemachus: *turns back to odysseus* so why didn’t you want people to know? about your skills as an archer i mean.

odysseus: sometimes it's best to not reveal all your strengths

odysseus: *grins while shrugging* keeping people guessing is also fun

odysseus: *walks to telemachus and ruffles his hair* anyway, back to practising! i’m going to head back over to your mother, but call me if you want me to assist with anything ok?

telemachus: ok!

*time passes as telemachus keeps on practising, odysseus is back to laying in penelope’s lap while she caresses his hair*

*odysseus wants to keep watching his son but is struggling to not fall asleep from penelope's motions*

*telemachus notices so decides to discuss some final dinner plans with his mother*

telemachus: so the cooks have everything they need for tonight, right? are you sure you don’t need me to quickly run down to the market for anything? 

penelope: *smiles reassuringly at telemachus* they do, and if on the off chance they don’t i'm sure one of them will go to the market themselves. no need to worry yourself my son.

telemachus: *nods while getting another arrow ready* 

telemachus: *starts pulling the string back when he has another thought*

telemachus: oh what about the seating plan? i should probably tell fathe-

penelope: *who knows about athena’s seating plan, and also knows that odysseus doesn’t (hey she wants to have some fun too ok?)*

penelope: *forgetting about her husband peacefully half-asleep in her lap*

penelope: *jumping up from the bench* NO-

telemachus: *not expecting his mother’s outburst*

telemachus: *lets the string go accidentally and also having lost his aim*

odysseus: *falls off penelope’s lap and the bench with a startled yelp*

*meanwhile the loose arrow now wizzes straight past the target, through the garden trees and over the palace cliffs, heading into what looks to be its final destination of…. the sea*

telemachus: *turns to face his parents* mother, are you ok? why did you yell no?

penelope: oh um… i’m sorry for shouting telemachus 

penelope: what i meant to say was, there's no need to spoil anything. we’ll keep it as a surprise!

telemachus: uh ok…

odysseus: *face down on the ground and groaning from the sudden series of events*

odysseus: *pushes himself up and looks at his wife*

odysseus: penelope why?

penelope: *laughs a little at odysseus’ rumpled state* 

penelope: *helps him up* 

penelope: i’m sorry my love *kisses him on the cheek*

odysseus: *smiles at the kiss and then brushes his clothing free of dust*

odysseus: what were you two talking about anyway?

telemachus: uhh-

penelope: -the final bits for dinner! speaking of which, we should all go and start getting ready!

penelope: *points at the sun starting to set* helios is not long from being done for the day, and i'm sure when selene takes to the skies, our dinner guests won't be long!

penelope: *starts to head inside* come along you two!

telemachus: *to odysseus* what about the archery equipment?

odysseus: *shrugs* we’ll deal with it later

*telemachus & odysseus follow penelope back into the palace*

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 3,025

warnings/notes: I decided to post another Austin fic I've been playing with for a little while. This is a set up chapter for the story and hopefully you guys enjoy it. The romance will begin soon :)

Chapter 1: Anchors and Aspirations

The icy wind bit through Violet's thin shawl as she maneuvered through the bustling market square, her gray eyes flitting from stall to stall. With the stealth of a seasoned thief, she slipped a hand into a basket, withdrawing a bruised apple before anyone noticed. At her heart, there was no love for thievery, but survival in the grim alleys of Victorian England left little room for scruples. As she tucked the stolen fruit into the folds of her dress, a shadow loomed over her. Her heart caught in her throat. She turned slowly, only to see Mr. Clarence Johnson, a local shopkeeper known for his scrupulous eye and unforgiving nature.

“Miss Everly,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft, his gaze not on the stolen apple but on her face. “You look more worn than usual. Are you unwell?”

Violet tensed. Clarence Johnson was an uncommon figure in their decrepit part of town; his presence alone suggested he was either lost or up to something far beyond her understanding.

“I am just fine, sir,” Violet replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering of her heart. “Just tending to some errands for my father.”

“Aye,” he nodded slowly, his bushy eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“But you needn’t resort to pilfering for your sustenance,” he continued, glancing at where the apple had disappeared into her dress. “There are other ways, Miss Everly, ways that do not risk your slender neck at the gallows.”

Violet stiffened, her hand instinctively clutching the fabric over the apple. The threat of the law was always a ghost that haunted her every step in these streets. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Johnson, but I assure you, I manage as best I can.”

Clarence surveyed her with those discerning eyes that missed little. “Your father,” he began, his voice dropping to a softer timbre, “he does little to provide, am I right?”

The accusation stung because it was true, yet Violet felt a surge of defiance. “He is my father still,” she said coldly, daring him with her gaze to speak ill of the man despite his failures.

Clarence sighed digging into one of his pockets and pulling out a few coins. He handed it to Violet. “Go buy the apple, girl. It would be a shame to see you hang for a fruit.” A trace of regret flitted across his features. “Miss Everly, I—” He paused, seeming to choose his next words with care. “I find myself in need of a reliable assistant at my shop. Someone keen and observant. Your... talents could be put to better use than thievery.”

Violet's heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage at the offer. Employment from Mr. Clarence Johnson was an unexpected lifeline, a beacon in her relentless sea of struggles. Yet, mistrust curled inside her like a dormant snake. Why would a man of his standing offer her, a known petty thief, an opportunity?

"I appreciate your offer, Mr. Johnson," Violet started cautiously, her voice a low murmur as she glanced around the bustling market to ensure no eavesdroppers lurked nearby. "But why would you trust someone like me in your establishment? You know very well my... activities."

Clarence's eyes softened, hinting at a depth that Violet hadn't noticed before. “Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, Miss Everly. I’ve watched you, not just today but many times. You’re quick, smart, and despite your current... enterprise,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, “you have morals. You steal only what you need and no more.”

He was right—Violet never took more than necessary to survive. Her actions were driven by desperation, not greed. The acknowledgment of that fact from Clarence Johnson stirred something akin to hope within her chest.

"Consider it," he urged gently as he started to turn away, leaving the coins in her palm.

Violet watched Clarence's retreating figure, the coins heavy in her hand like the sudden possibility they represented. In a world that had offered little but hard edges and cold shoulders, the warmth of an unexpected offer ignited a flicker of daring in her spirit. She could almost taste the promise of stability, a stark contrast to the bitter tang of pilfered fruit and the relentless ache of uncertainty. Still, Violet knew better than to leap without looking. Her life had taught her the sharp lessons of betrayal and disappointment too well. As she moved away from the market square, her mind raced with both the perils and prospects of Clarence Johnson's proposal. Could she truly step into the light of legitimate work without the shadows of her past pulling her back? And more pressingly, what did Clarence see in her that others didn't? Was it pity, a calculated gamble, or perhaps something more personal?

As she wandered through the alleys, her route took her instinctively towards home—a term used loosely for the cramped, dingy room she shared with her father. The door creaked ominously as she pushed it open, revealing Edward Everly slumped over a table littered with empty bottles. The stench of stale liquor and despair hung thick in the air. Violet's entrance went unnoticed by her father, his consciousness lost to the depths of another drunken stupor. She stood there a moment, her gaze hardening as she took in the sight of his decrepit form. This was the life she was born into, one suffocated by poverty and neglect, a stark reminder of what awaited her if nothing changed.

With a soft sigh, she stepped over the threshold, her boots echoing softly on the bare wooden floor. The coins still clenched in her hand felt like both a promise and a burden. She walked past her father, careful not to disturb his fitful slumber, and seated herself on the small, worn-out chair near the cold fireplace. Here in the dim light of their one-room abode, Violet allowed herself a moment to think. Mr. Clarence Johnson’s offer was tempting—an escape from this life of constant desperation. Yet doubt gnawed at her; trust was a luxury she could scarcely afford. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden groan from across the room. Edward Everly stirred, his eyelids fluttering open only to squint at his surroundings in befuddled drunkenness.

"Violet?" he slurred, his voice soaked with alcohol and confusion.

"Yes, Father," she replied quietly, steadying her voice to hide the tumult inside.

"What are you doing, sitting there like a lost soul? No food again?" His voice was rough, accusatory, as he tried to focus his bleary eyes on her.

Violet's hand tightened around the coins, the metal biting into her palm. She considered telling him about the job offer, about the possibility of change, but the words died on her lips. Her father's unpredictable temper and his disdain for any sign of ambition or hope outside his own distorted view discouraged any such revelations. Instead, she rose to her feet, smoothing the front of her dress with a practiced motion. "I'll get us something to eat," she said, her tone neutral. "Rest now. You need it."

Edward grunted in response, collapsing back onto the table with a weary thud. Violet turned away, feeling the weight of responsibility press down on her once more. As she stepped out into the waning light of day, the coins still in her grasp represented more than mere currency; they were a test of her courage and resolve.

The streets outside whispered with the voices of dusk—traders packing up their stalls, children playing before they were called in for supper, men heading towards the pubs for their evening respite. Violet moved through them like a shadow, unnoticed yet sharply attentive. She made her way to the tiny store at the corner of the street, its windows dimly lit and shelves sparsely stocked. Mrs. Bauble, the elderly proprietor, looked up from her knitting as Violet entered, her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion and then softening as she recognized the young woman.

"Back again, Violet?" Mrs. Bauble asked, setting aside her knitting. Her voice was raspy yet carried a warmth that was often absent in their bleak surroundings.

"Yes, Mrs. Bauble," Violet replied, approaching the counter with the coins still tight in her grip. "A loaf of bread and whatever meat you can spare for this."

Mrs. Bauble eyed the coins and then Violet, a knowing look crossing her features. "Trouble or fortune, my dear? Those coins look heavy with one or the other."

Violet offered a small, weary smile. "Perhaps a bit of both," she confessed softly.

The old woman nodded as if she understood all too well the dual nature of sudden opportunities. She turned to gather the requested items, wrapping them carefully before handing them over to Violet. "Be cautious, child. Fortune's favor is a fickle friend," she advised, her wrinkled hand briefly squeezing Violet's.

Violet nodded, feeling the weight of the old woman's words sink into her heart. "I will, thank you, Mrs. Bauble," she murmured, taking the small parcel with a sense of gratitude mixed with trepidation. As she left the store, the cool evening air brushed against her face, whispering possibilities that both exhilarated and terrified her. The walk back home was a quiet one, filled with the sounds of her own footsteps echoing off the cobblestones and the distant laughter of children not yet called to their suppers. Violet's mind spun with thoughts of Mr. Clarence Johnson’s proposal. It was a chance to step away from the shadowy margins of survival into something resembling a normal life. But at what cost? Could she really leave behind the streets that had taught her everything about resilience and distrust just as easily?

The uncertainty churned inside her as she approached the door of her humble abode once more. Violet paused, hand on the latch, feeling the divide between her current life and the one that might await her with Clarence Johnson. She could almost hear her mother’s voice, soft and encouraging, urging her to take a chance for a better future. Yet, the haunting memories of past betrayals loomed large, making her hesitate. Resolutely, Violet pushed open the door, stepping back into the shadowed confines of the room she shared with her father. Edward Everly was now snoring loudly, lost in an alcoholic haze that seemed to provide him the only peace he knew. Violet set down the small parcel of food on the shaky table and took a moment to look at him. Despite everything, he was still her father, and a pang of compassion tempered her longstanding resentment.

Quietly she unpacked the bread and meat, setting aside a portion for herself before preparing a smaller plate for Edward when he would inevitably awaken. Her actions were mechanical, performed with little thought as her mind wrestled with larger concerns. She knew that accepting Clarence’s offer would mean more than just changing jobs; it would mean stepping into an unknown world, risking exposure and vulnerability in ways she hadn't before.

Later, as darkness enveloped the room and the flickering candle cast long shadows across the peeling walls, Violet sat with her thoughts, tracing the outline of the bread with her fingers. The sense of impending change weighed heavily on her. It wasn't just the prospect of leaving behind the familiar, suffocating squalor that gnawed at her; it was also stepping into a realm so vastly different from anything she had known. What if she was unprepared for the challenges? What if she failed?

As these doubts swirled in her mind, Edward stirred from his stupor, his movements sluggish as he adjusted to the dim light. He squinted at the plate set before him and then up at Violet, a rare flicker of confusion crossing his usually indifferent gaze.

"Did you fetch this, Violet?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," she replied quietly, watching him closely.

He took a piece of meat and chewed slowly. For a moment, there was silence between them—a silence filled with unspoken words and stifled dreams.

"Why do you stay?" Edward's question came unexpectedly. His eyes, clearer now, fixed on her with an intensity that made her flinch slightly.

Violet paused, her breath catching in her throat. It was not like Edward to show interest in her choices or her life. The question hung in the air, heavy and laden with implications that Violet had long avoided. She searched for an answer that could appease both her father and her own restless heart. "I stay because this is my home," she replied quietly, her eyes not meeting his. "And because you are here."

Edward snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him as he looked around the decrepit room that barely served as a shelter. "This? This is no home, Violet. It's a prison. You're young still. You shouldn't be shackled by my failures."

His words, so starkly honest, struck Violet with unexpected force. It was rare for Edward to acknowledge his own shortcomings so openly or to express concern for her well-being. This glimpse of the man he might once have been—before grief and vice had reshaped him into the figure he now presented—left her momentarily speechless.

"You could leave, find a better life. Isn't there anyone...?" His voice trailed off, his question unfinished but clear.

Violet’s heart pounded in her chest as she considered her father's words. They echoed the very thoughts that haunted her nightly dreams—the possibility of a life beyond these walls, a chance at happiness that seemed so tantalizing yet so remote. But the thought of leaving her father in this state, as wretched as it was, tugged at her conscience. "There might be," she admitted softly, allowing herself to think of Clarence Johnson once more. His offer had been genuine, filled with promises of respect and a new beginning. Yet, the weight of her current reality shackled her ambitions.

"But I fear what leaving would mean for you," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Edward scoffed, looking away from her piercing gaze. "Don't make an anchor out of me, Violet. I'm already drowning." His voice was gruff, edged with the harsh self-awareness that alcohol sometimes brought to his lips.

Violet swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears she refused to shed. Her father’s usual indifference made his moments of clarity all the more painful for their rarity and raw honesty.

"I need to think on it," she finally said, standing up and moving towards the small window that overlooked the dim alleyway below. There, she pressed her forehead against the cool glass, trying to draw strength from the night itself. The tangled streets of London sprawled out before her—so familiar and yet suddenly brimming with the promise of escape. Her heart fluttered at the thought, a wild bird caged by years of oppression and fear.

Inside, Edward shifted uneasily in his chair, watching her silhouette framed against the weak moonlight that dribbled through the grimy window. For a moment, he seemed about to speak again, perhaps to retract his harsh truths or to further encourage her departure. But no words came; instead, he sank back into his chair with a heavy sigh that spoke volumes of his resignation to life's cruel turns.

Violet remained at the window long after her father's breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep. Her thoughts were tumultuous waves crashing against the shore of her resolve. Clarence’s proposal was not merely an employment offer; it was an invitation to step into a world where she could perhaps wash away the stains of her past and emerge reborn. It promised safety, respectability, and above all, an identity unchained from the degradation that had colored her life. Yet, her father’s words haunted her: "Don’t make an anchor out of me." Could she really leave him here, adrift in the haze of his vices, or was it her duty to stay and prevent him from sinking deeper into despair? The weight of decision seemed insurmountable, anchoring her to this moment of indecision.

Violet pressed her cheek against the cool pane, the glass fogging slightly with each exhaled breath. Outside, the labyrinthine alleys of London whispered secrets of escape and adventure, but also murmured warnings of betrayal and hardship. Each whisper tugged at her soul, a symphony of opportunity and fear mingling in the night air. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise behind her. Turning slightly, she saw Edward shifting again in his chair, his face etched with lines of discomfort and regret. For a fleeting second, she saw not the man who had failed her but rather the father who had once held dreams and aspirations beyond the confines of their dreary existence. The weight of his words echoed in her mind, a haunting reminder of their shared struggles and the unspoken bond that tied them together.

Drawing in a deep breath, Violet stepped away from the window. The cool air had not offered solace nor had it stiffened her resolve. If anything, it had only deepened her turmoil. Walking over to the flickering candle, she snuffed it out with a quick pinch, plunging the room into darkness. She navigated through the black with practiced ease, her every step whispering against the wooden floor. Reaching her modest bedding in the corner, she lay down without changing, drawing the thin blanket up to her chin. The darkness was not just a physical veil but also a metaphor for the uncertainty that clouded her future. As she lay there, her mind continued to race, replaying her earlier conversation with her father, weighing each word, each pause.

As sleep eventually claimed her in its restless embrace, Violet dreamt of vast oceans and endless horizons—a world away from the cramped confines of their decrepit home. In her dreams, the ocean was a deep blue, not the murky grey of London's foggy mornings. She stood on the deck of a ship, the wind tugging at her hair and billowing her threadbare dress like a sail. This was a freedom she had never known, unshackled from the burdens of her father's failures and the oppressive weight of their squalid existence.

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

[atinymekanie]

The Night We Met - Chapter 4: Rising Despair

|| Premise: What if Dawnbreaker's wish for one day and one night with the woman who lives only in his dreams... came true? ||

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Updates Weekly

Surrounded by frigid water, the doctor fought his way toward what he hoped was the surface, clawing at the strangely dense liquid. He’d never encountered water like this before. Instead of reaching any semblance of the surface, Zayne felt the water force its way past his lips, up his nose, suffusing every part of him and plunging his consciousness into darkness.

________________________________________

Zayne awoke, gasping, his whole body covered in a cold sweat, similar to the water that had dragged him under in his dream. Instead of bright morning sun, he was met with the gloom of a small, dim bedroom, illuminated only by a blinking green light and a sliver of wan sunlight that spilled in from the single window in the next room. He froze immediately, his mind spinning relentlessly in an effort to make sense of what he was seeing. Could one nightmare turn into another? Zayne squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to bring his breathing back under control and failing. It’s just a nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, the doctor opened his eyes again, praying that he would be back in his bedroom once more. Grey, empty walls surrounded him. The only furnishing in the room was a small nightstand with a lamp that wasn’t on. A monitor with a map of a city and hundreds of blinking green dots provided a sickly vermillion light that fell across the bed. The blanket covering him was thin, almost to the point of being threadbare, his sweat soaking through it. It’s not a nightmare. Panic bubbled up inside Zayne’s chest, the blanket’s thin fabric twisting in his fingers as he clutched at it, trying to anchor himself to something, anything other than the fear that threatened to drown him.

It's real. Zayne could feel the hard mattress beneath him and the rough texture of the blanket covering him. He could smell the staleness in the air and hear the small blips of sound that the monitor in the corner of the room emitted. Shoving himself up into a sitting position, he looked around the small bedroom, the enormity of the situation setting in. The pounding of his escalating heart rate thundered in his ears, slowly blocking out the sound from the monitor.

Harsh, ragged breathing eventually eclipsed the sound of his heart, filling the room as he began to hyperventilate. Gone was his bedroom, and the warmth of the woman sleeping beside him. All that had been replaced with the stuff of his literal nightmares – the cold, uninviting world of that far-off version of himself, the one Zayne dreaded every time he closed his eyes to sleep. But his eyes were open now. And he was still here. In the nightmare.

A drop of sweat trickled down his forehead, past his dark hair that was stuck to his skin, and dripped into his eye, making Zayne flinch and blink. The motion did have the effect of breaking him out of his frozen state, causing him to uncurl his fingers from their grip on the blanket. With a shaking hand, he wiped away the sweat, trying to force his brain into some semblance of order. The growing lump in his throat caused him to swallow, and Zayne realized he was desperately thirsty. Breathing shakily, he slowly got to his feet, the floor frigid beneath his bare soles.

Hardly noticing the cold floor, Zayne stumbled out of the bedroom and through the small apartment towards the bathroom. He knew the place like the back of his hand, having seen it so many times over the years, but always through the eyes of his counterpart, that other, darker version of himself. Moving through the poorly lit living area, past the small table and the refrigerator, and into the bathroom, where he came to a stop with his hands on the edge of the sink. The porcelain was unpleasant and chill to the touch – reminiscent of the small apartment’s atmosphere.

Zayne reached out a hand, knowing that the light switch was behind him to his right, and simultaneously praying that it wasn’t. Any small indication that he wasn’t where he thought he was would be nice. His fingertips brushed against the switch, flicking the bathroom light on and sending a shudder of horrified acceptance through him at the same time. The icy fear that had coiled inside him spread up his spine and through his limbs as the flickering light revealed his face in the mirror.

Leaner but still familiar features stared back at him, gold-flecked green irises appearing in the hollows of his eyes, pupils dilating in the sudden light above Zayne’s head. His hair was longer than he normally kept it and fairly disheveled, the sweat-slick strands sticking to his skin. Scars crisscrossed his chest, more numerous than he had ever seen before on his body, and his ribs showed slightly. Same face, though. Different world. Different time? Did it matter? Whether he was trapped in another world or another time, the problem was still the same.

Sighing, Zayne reached for the glass sitting by the sink, filling it with water from the tap as his mind raced. Was he stuck here? If so, was it permanent? If not, how long until he could go back? Would he return when he went back to sleep? He brought the cup to his lips, not caring how cold the water was, only hoping that it would alleviate the thirst he felt. A tepid, metallic flavor filled his mouth, causing Zayne to spit the water out almost immediately, coughing and spluttering as he tried to rid himself of the horrible taste. Was the water even safe to drink? He tried to remember if he had ever seen the other version of him drink from the tap, but nothing came to mind.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, Zayne turned and left the bathroom, heading to the refrigerator to see if there was anything potable at all in the apartment. He was again met with disappointment – the refrigerator contained row after row of nutrient drinks, their packaging bland and dull. Flavors never made it into his nightmares, but there was nothing promising about the look of the beverages. The air from the refrigerator was cold against his bare chest, causing him to shiver slightly before grabbing one of the drinks and shutting the refrigerator.

Zayne stared down at the bottle of colorless liquid in his right hand, weighing just how thirsty he felt with how much he dreaded the idea of drinking the unknown substance. Guess it can’t be helped. Tilting his head back, he took a swig of the drink. Surprisingly, it wasn’t horrible. But it wasn’t good either. The flavor was vaguely fruity, but only just. There wasn’t enough flavor to tell which fruit it was even supposed to be, and the packaging held no clues either. The liquid was thicker than Zayne expected, but it helped a little, quenching some of his thirst by the time he had downed half of the bottle.

Despite his immediate thirst being alleviated, the nutrient drink did nothing to satiate him. He still felt hungry and somewhat thirsty, almost as if he hadn’t had anything at all. Zayne glanced down at the bottle, grimacing slightly before throwing back the rest of the beverage. It was like drinking a cloud almost, in that it filled up his stomach but left him wanting something more. Like there was no substance to it.

Food was one of the few things Zayne found comfort in during his hectic life. It nourished his body and soothed his mind. Good food and drink brought endorphins and created a small bright spot in the often grim reality of being a cardiac surgeon. These were a few of the reasons he enjoyed sweet lattes and flavorful desserts so much and so often. But to not even have that... A shudder ran through him as he realized that this other part of himself, the Zayne in this place, was denied even that small comfort.

Standing in the small space between the bedroom, the bathroom, and the living area, he stared numbly out towards the window by the front door. Pale sunlight filtered through the dingy glass, bathing the sofa and an old TV set in an anemic glow. A black coat was tossed across the couch cushions, haphazardly thrown there at some point in the past. The light from the window glittered as it struck a glass jar that was also sitting on the couch, containing the one bit of bright color in the entire living space – chocolate candies in colorful wrappers.

The cold glass of the bottle left his hand as Zayne set it on the small table nearby, making a beeline for the jar of chocolates. He sank onto the couch, faintly realizing that there was almost no give to the old cushions. Despite having finished the entire nutrient drink, his stomach grumbled at the sight of the chocolates. Zayne lifted the lid and plucked one out, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth.

In comparison to the blandness of the drink, the chocolate was bursting with flavor, but in reality, there was something… off about its taste. Zayne chewed slowly, taking what small enjoyment he could from the chocolate. Leaning back against the couch, he glanced out the small window, squinting slightly at the pallid sunlight that leaked through the grimy pane of glass. After a moment, his gaze returned to the dingy apartment, the reality of his situation sinking in. It was real. That other version of himself… was real. He ate chocolates, took showers in that tiny bathroom, drank those strange drinks in the refrigerator, and existed fully wherever or whenever the hell he was now.

A sort of leaden despair crept forward from the back of Zayne’s mind, curling like a cold fog through the pathways of his thoughts. What if there was no way back? He shook his head, trying to banish the dread that was slowly overtaking him. He would just lie down and go back to sleep. Surely that would fix this.

Zayne rose to his feet, deciding to return to the bedroom and attempt to sleep, but he swayed slightly as he stood. How malnourished was this body? Tilting his head down, he could see how thin he seemed; skin stretched taut over muscles, with no give whatsoever. Almost unconsciously, Zayne brought a hand up, placing it over the scarred skin of his stomach. His gaze drifted back to the window and the front door beside it. There was almost nothing edible or nourishing in the apartment.

He sighed and looked back at the bedroom, faintly hearing the blip of the monitor, then back out the window, his mind torn. Would sleep even come? He could tell his brain was overwrought with fear and anxiety; his chest felt like it had been enclosed inside a pair of jaws with icicles for teeth. No matter how much he wanted to, sleep seemed nigh impossible.

Swallowing thickly against the lump in his throat, he reached back down towards the couch and the black trench coat thrown across it. Sure enough, inside the righthand pocket was a faded leather wallet, and cards that looked similar to the payment options Zayne was used to seeing. Perhaps going out to get food wouldn’t be so bad. It was still daytime, after all. Did monsters come out during the day? From his nightmares, he knew that this version of himself was a hunter… of a sort. But were the things he hunted truly monsters? Sometimes they looked human, and sometimes they didn’t.

A memory Zayne had pushed to the recesses of his mind struggled to the forefront. William. William hadn’t looked human at the end, either. Was that what was happening here, in this world? He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, the nutrient drink churning ominously in his gut. Was this what Linkon would be like in the future? The wallet fell from his hands onto the couch, and Zayne sat down again, his elbows on his knees and his hands running through his hair. Was this… the future?

Zayne squeezed his eyes shut, a ragged sob escaping him. The memory of his friend changing and dying in front of him, and the impossible weight of the idea that this might be how the world turned out, got the better of him. Fingers curled in his sweat-damp hair, clenching and pulling, the pain a welcome reprieve from the heavy despair that threatened to drag him under at any moment. His mouth was drier than before he had tried that damn drink, and his throat felt like it was closing. The thought of being trapped in this time, with no sure way of escape, away from the woman he loved, caused another sob to tear its way free of Zayne’s chest, his body trembling as he sought to rein in his emotions.

To never see her again, never hold her again, never hear her laughter or the way his name fell from her lips like new-fallen snow… The idea was akin to torture, his mind recoiling from it and yet unable to think of anything else, like a bystander watching a train wreck. Zayne stared blankly down at the floor, hardly seeing it. Horrifying images of himself trapped in that apartment, sleeping for days on end in some futile attempt to return to her, danced like demons before him.

The dingy grey floor in front of his eyes swam as tears clouded his vision, threatening to fall. If hopelessness had a promo poster, it would be the image of teardrops on the ugly linoleum beneath his feet. Zayne felt something damp roll down his cheek, watching numbly as a tear plopped onto the floor, the droplet splashing out in a ring, almost in slow motion. Images of blood droplets scattering on this same linoleum flickered behind his eyes, replacing the previous images, phantom pain shooting through him from the memories of his nightmares.

While he had never felt the pain in those nightmares, he could remember the emotions of that other self, the fear and the anguish that plagued him. It mirrored his own emotions at that moment, and Zayne felt a pang of empathy for the hunter from his nightmares. To live every day like this… could it even be called living? No wonder the man barely ate anything, seemingly existing on the bare minimum and throwing himself headlong into danger. Zayne drew his hands down over his face, drawing in a shaky breath as he leaned back against the couch, lost in his hopelessness.

__________________________________________

A sound suddenly cut through the suffocating stillness of the room, worming its way past the fog of despondency that had settled over Zayne. He had managed to quiet his breathing after some time but hadn’t been able to convince himself to get up. What was the point? The sound he could hear now was a low buzz, repeated at steady intervals, about thirty seconds or so apart. Just like the blip. A new sort of fear slithered its way up his spine and took root at the base of his skull. No. Surely not.

Zayne sat up with a groan, turning towards the bedroom, trying to be certain if he was hearing what he thought he was hearing. The sound beckoned him like a beacon, drawing him up from the couch and past the old TV set, past the run-down table near the old fridge, and into the bedroom. His bare feet shuffling against the cold floor barely registered in his hearing, his mind fixed on the warning sound. Because that’s what it was – a warning. It was as he had feared.

One of the monitor’s green dots had turned a sickly shade of orange that flickered red at certain intervals, matching the rhythm of the buzzing sound. The blood drained from Zayne’s face, leaving it paler than it already had been. His eyes tracked the dot as it moved slowly – it was somewhere in the northern section of the city. A small blue dot sat near the middle of the screen. Was that this apartment? He assumed it must be since there were no other blue dots in evidence. He swallowed, his throat working to get past the searing dryness that had replaced the lump in his throat. He knew what the warning meant.

Someone was changing. Somewhere out there, in that dilapidated city of his nightmares, a person was losing their humanity. Maybe they knew it, maybe they didn’t. But it would happen within the next twenty-four hours. Zayne stood there watching the orange dot flicker across the screen, his thoughts scattered and racing. He should do something. Shouldn’t he? Since the hunter wasn’t here, who else would? But this wasn’t his fight, and these weren’t his monsters. He tore his eyes away from the screen and stared down at his scarred hands, trying to reconcile that rationale with his morals.

Why should he endanger himself and his chances of returning to his normal self? Why should he ever even set foot outside of this apartment? Zayne’s stomach growled again, interrupting his thoughts, insistent in its pursuit of actual food. Well, that was one reason. Dropping his hands to his sides, he glanced around the bedroom, realizing he couldn’t very well go anywhere, whether he wanted to or not, in the worn pajama pants he was wearing.

Perhaps he could just find a small store or café, get something to eat, and come back. No hunting, no fighting, no monsters. Quick and simple and safe. Yeah, right. With a resigned sigh, Zayne moved past the buzzing monitor and over to the small closet that was set into the wall facing the foot of the bed. Inside were rows of black pants and black shirts and a small set of drawers, presumably filled with underwear and socks and such.

“So many options,” he muttered under his breath. “It makes my closet look downright colorful.” His voice sounded strange to his ears, hoarse from disuse. Zayne selected a dress shirt, pants, socks, and a pair of dark grey boxer briefs from one of the drawers and set about changing. At least this would be warmer than those old pajama pants. Once changed, he left the bedroom, striding quickly past the monitor and its blinking orange dot without looking at it.

Zayne went quickly to the couch, picking up the black trench coat and pulling it on, checking to be sure he had the faded leather wallet before he moved over to the front door. Head out, get food, come back, and sleep. That was the plan. Before the orange dot turned red, before his morals got the better of him, before he could make any stupid decisions. Right? Right. His hand shook as he took hold of the knob, turning it and pulling the door open as he steeled himself for the unforgiving world outside.

[longwuzhere]

Here are some cool Easter eggs that I found the newest My Adventures with Superman episode, “Let’s Go to Ivo Tower, You Say”. Links to the easter eggs post:

Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 5 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

SPOILERS if you have not seen the episode of course:

Perry assigns our intern trio to go get interviews about Anthony Ivo. I previously mentioned Ivo's deal in the comics in this post, but we'll talk more about this version of Ivo later.

Shout out to Lois' hanbok! As a kid in the 90s my first exposure to the DC was through the DC Animated Universe. Because of the way some of the characters like Lois, Clark, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Terry, were designed, as a kid, I thought they were Asian. Very cool to see this version of Lois be Korean.

Before Lois shows up for their black tie event at Ivo Tower, Jimmy knocks down a stack of papers and magazine and Clark goes to pick it up and stumbles upon the Metropolis Star with a cover that shows him as a kid flying 15 years ago.

The Metropolis star is a rival newspaper to the Daily Planet in the comics. The publisher makes its first appearance in Superman #9 (1987) (W&P: John Byrne, I: Karl Kesel, C: Tony Ziuko, L: John Costanza).

When our intern trio makes it to Ivo Tower, Lois spots some very interesting powerful and political figures of Metropolis, the CEO of Galaxy Communications and Mayor Fleming.

Galaxy Communications makes its first appearance in Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #133 (1970) where it was headed by Morgan Edge, the then leader of Intergang. In the comics Clark and Lois does work for Galaxy communications thanks to it buying out the Daily Planet forcing Clark to be the evening news anchor. The Galaxy Communications panels here are from Swamp Thing #68 (1988) (W&P: Rick Veitch, I: Alfredo Alcala, C: Tajana Wood, L: John Costanza).

Mayor Fleming makes her first appearance in Action Comics #894 (2010) (W: Nick Spencer, P: R.B. Silva, I: Denis Freitas, C: Dave McCaig, L: Rob Leigh) where she appoints Jimmy Olsen and Sebastien Mallory as a welcoming committee for Dalwythians aliens. Like her MAwS counterpart she is obviously the Mayor of Metropolis.

Later, Lois goes and questions Senator Sackett at the party/event.

In the comics Sackett was a councilman not a senator who makes his first appearance in Superman #130 (1997) (W: Dan Jurgens, P: Norm Breyfogle, I: Joe Rubenstein, C: Glenn Whitmore and Digital Chameleon, L: John Costanza) depicted here in the issue's panel wearing a Superman costume. Sackett in the comics is in Luthor's pocket.

I am like 99.99% sure this is Lex Luthor like who else in Metropolis is named Alex, has red hair (if this is Lex Luthor and he shows up again, I'll talk about him and what I mean by this in another post.), and works in the science and tech field.

We finally meet Ivo and he is as I was hoping he'd be a major techbro tool. The way he acts in his introduction and his meeting with Clark is very much like Lex and Clark's meeting in Batman v Superman. Both Ivo and Lex upon meeting Clark know how strong he is. In MAwS Ivo punches his chest and it hurts him and in BvS you heard an audible thud when Lex knocks on Clark's chest. Very similar vibes between both scenes.

Clark confronts Ivo about one of his deals and name drops one of Metropolis' mob families.

Bobby Gazzo, head of the Gazzo crime family in Metropolis, makes his first appearance in Batman: Dark Victory #1 (W: Jeph Loeb, P&I: Tim Sale, C: Gregory Wright and Heroic Age, L: Richard Starkings). Fantastic sequel to Long Halloween, highly recommend reading both books.

After Clark gets thrown out and Lois offers to repair his jacket, we see Lois mentioning her dad, Sam Lane a military general and if the person at the end of the second part of the first episode is Sam Lane...

...and he shows up again in the show I'll talk more about it in another post. For now this is all just speculation.

Might be reading into this but maybe a subtle nod to how the words "Superman" and "pal" are often used together. Both have been used as a comic book title, "Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen" as I've mentioned in these posts a few times.

The show here did a very clever thing with Ivo. Normally any other media pertaining to Ivo would give the audience his power and weakness stealing robot Amazo, but here the MAwS team was able to combine both Ivo and another villain in Superman's rogues gallery, Parasite.

The first Parasite, Raymond Jensen, makes his first appearance in Action Comics #340 (1966) (Cover Art by Curt Swan, George Klein, and Ira Schnapp). All iterations of Parasite have the ability to temporarily steal away anyone's energy, strength, and their knowledge. As I've said there have been other Parasites that Superman fought, the second and most recurring Parasite is Rudy Jones, the Parasite I'm more familiar with, who makes his first appearance in Firestorm #58 (1987).

Cover Art by Joe Brozowski, Bruce Peterson, and Tom Ziuko Alex and Alexandra Allston the third and fourth Parasite (green Parasite and purple Parasite respectively) first appeared in the Adventures of Superman #633 (2004).

Cover art by Gene Ha and Art Lyon

The latest Parasite, Joshua Allen, makes his first appearance in Superman #23.4 (2013).

Cover art by Aaron Kuder and Dan Brown So yeah there are similarities between the Amazo robot and Parasite and it was smart of the MAwS team to just combine Ivo with Parasite to avoid redundancies. Besides the Amazo robot is more of a Justice League villain anyways.

Near the end of the episode, after the Parasite suit wrecks Ivo's body, he begins to look more like his recent iterations in the comics now. The panel here is from Justice League of America #4 (2013) (W: Geoff Johns, P: Brett Booth, I: Norm Rapmund, C: Andrew Dalhouse, L: Rob Leigh). Hope you all had a wonderful time checking this post out. Like I said at the beginning my other MAwS easter egg posts are:

Episode 1 is here

Episode 2 is here

Episode 3 is here

Episode 5 is here

Episode 6 is here

Episode 7 is here and here

Episode 8 is here

Episode 9 is here

Episode 10 is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

[someprettyname]

✨GF FC INDIGO AWARDS 2024 PT 4✨

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | winner's list | after party

Some points to note before you move to the event visualizer : 

🟣 My anchoring style is highly energetic and bubbly so you can imagine me doing a lot of hand gestures, changing pitch and tones of my voice, moving around on the stage a lot, etc. Hehe.  

🟣 The theatre/event venue has been engineered by the best engineers of the world, with the most modern technology. The petals of the lotus can close or open to hide or reveal the night sky. It can also change its colours. For tonight, it's indigo!  

🟣 The "OUTFIT CHECK" were clicked in different places (according to where the member was spotted first) hence the different background. 

🟣 I didn't want to write too dialogues on yall's behalf but I can't really bother you with every small detail, so I hope whatever dialogues I've made up are not too out of character! 

🟣Ignore the contradiction of same blue locker entering the scene multiple times, pretend there are a few copies of each member 🥰👍🏻

🟣 Ignore the outfit mismatch in the edits (any edit after the outfit checks please, our editing skills only go so far 🙏🏻 ) 

🟣 I highly suggest that you listen to songs as you keep finding them being embedded in links for added feels and extra hype! 🔥

🟣 The performances where multiple songs have been used is supposed to be a mashup. You can imagine the mashup to be as you please! The songs I've bunched together are for the sole purpose of creating a particular vibe, so as long as to they are fulfilled it's all good! 😌🤝🏻

🟣 The posts are scheduled at a gap of 3-4 hours each, this event is going to be spread throughout 2 or more days. Feel free to go feral in the comments/reblogs/community my mates. 🔥 

🟣 I hope you enjoy this! Tagging all the attendees here : 

@glue-thief  @getosugurusbangs @bueris @soleilonthesun @galaxynajma

@sid3buns @mariyumemi @pinkinsect @refrigeratedboombursts @satosuguhastakenovermylife 

@10renz0 @simp-simp-no-mi @boinin @sharkissm @milkteansugar 

@thebestsetter @merlucide @jujutsustraycats @kurona-theshark @nskiyuriz

@asarajaa @writingonthewalls1832 @hooudie212back @sadao-tsuki @milaisreading 

@8-xnny @licoririce @rinitoshisgirl @luvingshidou  @duckydee-0

@kuro-min @gojoracle @marcsnuffy @filecurropt0 @riririnnnn 

@wroophruh @sanaexus @melodiclune

(*The lotus petals curl outwards, revealing the night sky to the attendees as certain beat fills the place and atmosphere. The lights shine upon IZZY (@/luvingshidou) as the audience recognise the beats to be that of DIVA by BEYONCE. The stage burst into fireworks and audience sing along as IZZY demands. Fireworks can be seen in the sky, marking the beginning of an epic evening which will go down in history.*) 

[ LINKS : DIVA | Choreography ]

(*Confetti works are seen on the stage as the curtains fall. *)

(*The curtains rise again and this time they reveal a dark figure coming more and more into light as she walks forward on the stage. Nami. The MC for the evening.*) 

GOOD EEEVENING LADIESSS AND GENTLEMENNNNN!! 

How are we FEEELIINGGG TONIIIGHT? 

LET. ME HEAR. YOUUUU!!  🎤

*Turns the mic towards the audience*

*indistinct sounds so hooting, clapping and cheering*

WOAH! WOAH! The mood in here is even better than I expected!! Well! Well! That's Girlfriend FC for you!! Always breaking past the metric of expectations, leaving everyone's jaws to drop to the ground. Ha! 

I'd like to take this moment to officialy welcome you all to this award ceremony. Ladies and gentlemen, you all look ABSOOOLUUUUTELY gorgeous and HANDSOME in your gowns and suits! I also thank the blue lock players for accompanying our members to this show! You really do add a shine, like stars in the night sky of our celebration!

*camera moves around to show the hall*

(The seating area for attendees.)

*Camera flashes to Isagi waving politely at the camera, REO clapping and Aryu flipping his hair ✨osha✨ way* 

*The camera moves back to the stage.*

(Best part? It keeps changing the colour as per mood! This pic was taken before show started so it's not lighted up yet, but it has a lower platform too!)

Before I move any further, a HUGE THANK YOU to @/luvingshidou for the SPLENDID performance which most certainly hyped us all up! I'd also like to extend our gratitude to our engineers who used the most modern technology to build this hall, but I suppose it's about time we say a bye to the night sky. 

*I click my fingers and the huge wall like petals of the lotus start whirring and buzzing as they move closer to each other, within a few seconds the hall was completely covered with walls on all the sides and secured from the nightsky* 

 Now, first things first, I hope everyone didn't have difficulties finding their assigned seats. Each table has been equipped with blankets and shawls in case any one of you gets cold. Specially the ones with sleeveless gowns, or shorter dresses.

Moving on, should we start our evening folks?

*Turns the mic to the audience with a grin again*

*Indistinct sounds of "Yeahhh" "woo" "yeasss" "let's goooo"*

Alright then! Like we all know, the world never sleeps. The world never stops. Every day thousands of people achieve success and make a name for themselves while other thousand fall from grace. One thing about the people in the latter category is that they forget their roots. They forget where they started from and to respect it. But we can't let that happen to us can we? And that's why it's been decided to start our evening with a special crowning. 

[ All the introductory slide(s) editing credits goes to @/soleilonthesun. ]

Please welcome on stage @/getosugurusbangs @/galaxynajma and @/glue-thief!!! 

*The audience's side bursts into cheers and applauds as @/riririnnn simultaneously walks out from the backstage for the crowning* 

This one is to thank them and pay them a token of respect for starting this community which is a reason for many people's smile and laughter today! How wonderful it is to have a safe space for self ships with our favourite most characters!! The applause shouldn't stop ladies and gentlemen!! KEEP THEM GOING!! 🗣️

Thank you Riri for the crowning, now before we move onto awards, let's fill this place with some optimistic beats first, shall we? 

PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR TEEEEAAAM YOUNG SIX!! 

[ links : show | odo | dare ]

(*After the performance, Nami and Soleil walk up on the stage together.*)

Nami : Thank you, team young six for the splendid performance!! (*walks up to the front of the stage with a smile*) Daaamnnnn! I can see some fired up and happy faces here! Looks like now's the perfect time I introduce you all to the FIRST category of awards we'd be giving out tonight : 

THE GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARDS!!!

*the camera zooms past several trophies of the same design kept on a table*

Soleil : This one is to honour the members who have contributed undeniably something very special to our community. Something so special that it can't go without being acknowledged and praised. This award can be won by one or more than one members. 

Nami : That's right Soleil! So shall we introduce the first category of the awards, everyone? 

*Distant cheering and clapping*

Soleil : (*chuckles*) alright! I think, as a community, we all need those adorable little members who go around creating chaos but in the most endearing ways. They always make sure that everyone's getting their daily dose of serotonin, and that in itself is worth honouring, don't you think so Nami?

Nami : (*grins*) Indeed! So ladies and gentlemen, please welcome on stage miss KIRA (@/merlucide) for giving the first award for tonight : GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARDS FOR THE MOST PEACEFULLY CHAOTIC MEMBERS! 

*Kira walks on the stage waving and smiling as the audience cheers on and takes over the mic* 

Kira : Thank you! This award is shared by 2 of our members.....and they are....

🥁

🥁

🥁

Kira : ISH AND BILLY!! 

(*The audience breaks into cheers and claps as they stand up with a huge smile on their face and walk over to the stage, recieving pats on the back on their way.*

*Kira grins and hands them both the award* ) 

Jujutsustraycats : I am really thankful for being graced with this award, but I'm not really the one for speeches so I'll let Kitty take this one! 

Bueris : *grins* yeah!!! it's fine!! so fine! everything is totally okay yeah 💞 life is about living it, you can't die completely without regrets in a world of infinite choices but you can certainly lessen that amount by following your heart! even if it means eating baked beans out of a can you found on the roadside! not joking! really I'm not! they tasted 🔥 mediocre 🔥!

I'll shine forever, just for u ma, glad to be on ur side!!! :33

Nami : Aww Billy!! 🥹❤️❤️

Soleil : So lovely! Thank you for joining us, my lady! 

*Kira nods and they all get off the stage.* 

Nami : So, Soleil? What do we have next? 👀

Soleil : Hm. I think, having someone who's  talented with an amazing foresight really helps in keeping things fascinating. Isn't it? 

Nami : Ah! (*Smirks knowingly*) It's time then, eh? Please welcome on stage @/sadao-tsuki for announcing the winner of GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARDS FOR THE DIVINE PREDICTOR!! 

*@/sadao-tsuki walks up from the backstage* 

Sadao-tsuki : *smiles and nods until the cheers die down* And the award goes to none other than....

🥁

🥁

🥁

Sadao-tsuki : NAJMA!! 

*The camera cuts to najma who's found shaking her head and a smug looking Kaiser is patting her back encouraging her. In the end, she gets up and walks over to the stage to recieve the award.*

Galaxynajma : honestly all I wanna say here is…. FUCK YOU APOLLO you made me look so bad! With both jjk and blue lock HOW DARE YOU… but I am happy I won this award … am I a little scared to speak my mind now? Yeah but it’s worth it. 

Nami : (*Giggling as they both get off the stage*) Well Najma, i certainly wouldn't want you to be scared of speaking your mind. Where's the fun in that? 

Soleil : True! But Nami....now that we are on the topic of being scared...it's made me think. 

Nami : Hm? What is it Soleil? 

Soleil : It makes me realise how being bold and strong is something worth being honoured too. 

Nami : (*smiles*) You're right Soleil. Every Kingdom needs their soldiers to be able to sleep peacefully at night. These people are doing a noble job by providing us the assurance of safety all that by their mere strength. 

Soleil : Please welcome on stage ELI (@/getosugurusbangs) on stage to handout the GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARD FOR BRAVEST WARRIOR. 

*audience breaks into a huge round of applause, camera cuts to @/licoririce smiling and waving and back to Eli walking up on the stage*

ELI : I think we all know who's winning this one, so without wasting too much time let's put our hands together for....

🥁

🥁

🥁

ELI : RIRI AND KIRA!! 

(*Kira gasps slapping hand over her mouth, her surrounding members patting her back before she gets up, hugs Riri on the way and they both walk on stage hand in hand, smiling and complimenting each other. What a truly beautiful example of camaraderie!!*) 

Riri : I'm honoured to share this award with my fellow, very brave rival, @/merlucide. She is very courageous and I've never met a rival like her! She is the best! She was the only reason why our battle was so legendary!!! And it's dedicated to beautiful Miss Manager, @/licoririce!! It's her kisses and smooches that made Merlu and me so strong!!

Merlucide : Definitely! Thank you for this award!! 

Nami : No! No, Kira! In fact we're grateful to have such amazing guardians to our community like you both! ♥️

Soleil : That was certainly inspiring! 

Nami : You know what what else is inspiring, Soleil?

Soleil : Sae's amazing goal in the last match? 🤩

Nami : ☺️

Nami : With all due respect, no. What's inspiring is the next set of team who's going to take over the stage with their amazing performance. Ladies and gentlemen, PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR TEAM PRANCE AND PROWESS!! 

[ links : eve psyche and the bluebird's wife - choreography | unforgiven | tomboy - choreography ]

Soleil : Wow 🤩 That definitely fired me up!! 

Nami : (*runs to catch up -> was left alone because Soleil got too excited*) 

Nami : Yeah, yeah Soleil. That indeed was a badass performance, but don't leave me behind. :") 

Soleil : oooooh :0 

Nami : Well, anyways. You know else can get you all fired up with her amazing comments and reblogs on someone's post? Whose comment spam can absolutely make your day? 

Soleil : I think I have an idea about who we are talking of 🤭

*They share a knowing look*

Nami : Coming up on stage is IZZY (@/luvingshidou) to hand out THE GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARD FOR PERFECT COMMENTS. 

Izzy : I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE EVERYONE SO FIRED UP!! 🔥💯 The one who's winning this is none other than my pookie....

(*Camera cuts to Shidou, who's cheering on top of his lungs and table, essentially spoiling the suspense silence*) 

🥁

🥁

🥁

Izzy : @/rinitoshisgirl !! 

(*She instantly gets up from her seat, flipping her hair and strutting to the stage. Meanwhile the camera cuts to rin who's lip were twitching up into a smile but instantly turn into the expression of glare when the camera turns to him.*) 

Rinitoshisgirl : (*she walks up on stage and hugs Izzy before taking the award*) I really appreciate this award very much. I guess if i can't be perfect enough atleast my comments will be eyy they aer going AFTER me bro i die before them ykwim🔥🔥 (*throws her hand [with the award] in the air and does a dramatically graceful bow and struts off the stage*) 

Nami : (*chuckles*) Thanks for that @/rinitoshisgirl, seeing your comment spam on my posts literally makes my day, haha!! All your energy really does make heart swell. 

Soleil : Do you know what else can make someone's heart swell, nami? 😁

Nami : Chocolates? Sweets? Food? 🤩

Soleil : (*sighs and shake her head*) A mother's love. 

Nami : Oh. 😳

Soleil : That needs to be honoured and awarded too isn't it? 

Nami : Yeah, well...(*a little flustered*)....of course! 

Soleil : Then let's welcome on stage @/Galaxynajma to announce the honoured one who'd be taking back home GF FC HONORARY INDIGO AWARD FOR CARING MOTHERS!!

*A certain royal tune plays over speakers as Najma walks on stage.*

Galaxynajma : Well, we have a huge family tree today but I suppose we shouldn't forget where this all started from isn't it? The 2 mothers among us who inspired the chaos. The ones who'd be sharing this award. The mothers who are the winner for this award, none other than....

(*Camera cuts to Riri (@/riririnnn) and Billy (@/Bueris) momentarily*) 

🥁

🥁

🥁

Galaxynajma : HOOUDIE AND NAMI!!! 

(*The crowd breaks into applause as Nami makes her way around to the stage staircase, offering her hand to hooudie who just walked up and both of them walk to Najma hand in hand and smiling.*) 

Hooudie : Today as we are gathered here for this wonderful event, I wanna talk a little about my experience in this amazing team

I never thought that I would be a part of such a wonderful group full of amazing people, never thought I would laugh a lot and have fun. And now, I'm a mom for two amazing daughters; Riri and Bue, who made me realize how beautiful it is to be a mother

I thank everyone in this team who accepted me as part of it. And, of course, most thanks to Soleil; who always does her best to create the best scenarios and ideas for us to engage in. And finally, and I can't forget, most and special thanks to my bestie Nami, who thought of this award ceremony, and went out of her way to invite everyone and make the preparations so that we all can have fun. And thank you for being my friend :)

Nami : (*grinning widely*) Of course Hooudie! The way you're such a sweetheart, I should be the one thanking you, really! (*Looks at award with awe filled look and continues in an emotional voice*) This is actually such a beautiful moment for me. I'd like to devote this one to Riri and Billy for being the best daughters there is. And also to hooudie (*they both smile and side hug*) for being the best homie! Haha! I can't even describe the way my heart swelled when they wished me a happy mother's day. Being a mother is truly beautiful isn't it, hooudie? (*Hooudie smiles and nods.*) 

Nami : I always thought they were both really cute so of course adopting them bought me a lot of happiness!! And now.... getting this award....(*voice breaks a little*)....yeah. I'm just so happy for our small little family. I couldn't ask for more. I feel privileged to be your mother my daughters. Thank you so much! ❤️

 (*Camera cuts to Billy and Riri who seem happy and are cheering for their mothers.*) 

(*The crowd cheers and applauds again, the camera cuts to REO who is so hyped that he stood up and started clapping and hooting for Hooudie, while Nami walks back to the MC mic and sets down her award*) 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Stay tuned for more upcoming honorary awards. It's all barely getting started!!

[ organiser : @/someprettyname

script writing credits : @/someprettyname

proofread by : @/melodiclune

editing credits : @/soleilonthesun ]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Fate Fought For

How heartfelt. This is part 19 of 20. We tie up loose ends.

Tale of the Cursed Raven: Part 1 I Part 2I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 | Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

Knock, knock.

Crowley’s knuckles pause. He waits, straining his ear, waiting for a reply—or at least some sign of life.

His niece has been holed up in her room for the past… He has lost track of how long. The few times she has emerged, she is progressively more and more haunted. Pale complexion, dark circles under her eyes, a hollow expression.

She had stopped leaving entirely for three whole days.

He knocks again, this time calling out. His voice is thin and desperate.

“Raven-kun? Raven-kun, are you awake…? It’s your dear old uncle!”

The panic sets in when he’s met with silence. He fiddles with the doorknob, then feels for the keys dangling from his waist.

“Young lady!! I am respecting your privacy but asserting my authority as your guardian by coming in anyway!!” he crowed, inserting a skeleton key into the lock and turning.

The door swings open.

His jaw drops.

“Wh-What happened here?!”

The place is a terrible mess, even moreso than usual. Bookcases have toppled over, their contents spilling and making the floor a maze of covers and pages to wade through. Handprint-shaped ink stains paint the walls, as if a ghoul were desperately trying to claw out from the underworld. And there, in the center of the wreck, is a small body slumped over a writing desk.

Crowley rushes to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. But he sees the quill jutting out of her left hand and startles.

“R-Raven-kun?!”

“… Mmmm…”

Raven shifts under his touch. Her eyes flutter, and he sees the warm honey rings of her irises. Tired, but still bright.

“… Uncle? What are you doing?”

“That is what I would like to know!!” He jabbed a finger at her injured hand. “You’ve gone and hurt yourself, silly girl! Hold still. We must treat this immediately.”

Crowley raises his walking stick and gives it a wave. Items from a first aid kit materialize and float down.

He sets to his work, using a clean cloth to apply pressure to the injury site. Raven squeals, but plays the part of a good patient by squeezing her eyes shut and bearing with it. The blackened ooze breaks.

Then comes the water, a small sterile stream from midair rinsing off the area. A bottle of ointment uncaps and applies itself—she winces. The quill slowly unlodges, magic suspending the bodily fluids until a fresh dressing is applied neatly over top.

Raven watches in quiet awe.

“There we are.” Crowley gentle pats the bandaged hand. “Now then, would you mind explaining yourself?”

Raven blinks. “… Sometimes I forget what a powerful mage you are.”

“Hmm? Oh—well…!!” The headmaster flushes. “It’s not everyday that I receive such kind praise!!”

He stops.

“W-Wait just a minute, don’t change the subject!” He indicates the room. “What happened here last night?!”

Raven lowers her gaze to the papers at her desk. Crowley follows it, coming across a paper stained a brilliant sky blue. Hastily scribbled over it, as if written by the hand of a madman, is three lines.

But she still dared to dream.

And she lived happily ever after.

The end.

“I wrote my magnum opus with my blood, sweat, and tears,” Raven says very quietly. “The only story I know how to tell from beginning to end. Mine.”

She tries to rise from the desk and nearly careens to one side. Crowley catches her and tuts.

“You need to lie down and rest, some food in your belly as well!” he lightly scolds. “Here, come to your bed.”

Raven clutches onto him tightly. Using him as an anchor, she hoists herself up on trembling feet.

“… I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t. I have to…” She shakes her head. “There are things I must tend to first. A blue letter in my drawer that needs to be read, classmates I must talk to..."

“Not in that state, you won’t!! You'll stay put until further notice. To your bed--I'll brew you a cup of tea, perhaps that will whet your appetite. Maybe some rice porridge after?" Crowley coos, smoothed her hair down. “With sunny side egg eyes and a bacon smile!”

She peers up at him. Her cheeks are wet with trails of tears.

"Oh dear, oh dear! You're crying now?" He cups her face and brings her to his chest. “You’ll tell me what’s wrong, won’t you?”

"N-Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I just..." Raven wipes at her eyes, sniffling loudly. "Uncle, you…”

“Is it something I’ve done? Come, out with it.”

There’s a nervous, stuttery laugh.

“You really are so very, very kind. And your hands... Have they always been this warm?"

Raven leans into his palm and openly weeps.

He lets her.

She’s definitely a goner now,” a mob student declares. “It’s been weeks.“

The comment is made in 1-A's homeroom, in the hallways, in the courtyard and cafeteria, all over campus. Kon leaves his classes with a weight on his chest, pushing the breath out of him.

He doesn’t want it to be the end, not like this. Not when what he last recalls of her is an unanswered question, a hand left untaken. And a girl petrified, as if the blade of a guillotine loomed above her.

I hope she’s okay.

“Kon?”

He lifts his head. To either side of him are his friends—students from Scarabia and Pomefiore, respectively. Cyril, pale with his fluffy violet mop and Augustine, tanned and dirty blonde hair cut short.

“Something up?” Augustine asks, digging an elbow into his side. “You have that faraway look in your eyes again.”

“I’m thinking about… stuff.”

“Your missing classmate?” Cyril suggests. For as long as Kon has known him, he’s been good at reading people. Guessing, Cyril calls it—but he’s always been humble.

“This again? You shouldn’t waste your energy on that. She’s a lost cause,” Augustine snips. He’s gruffer that Cyril and Kon combined, quick to cut to the chase. “And anyway, it’s not like you were super close or anything.”

“Well, no. But it still doesn’t feel good, knowing the person you sit next to in class is… There’s an empty seat. It’s sad.”

It’s lonely.

“Accept it and move on, bro. Wherever she is, whatever happened to her, she’s not comin’ back.

“Are you sure?” Cyril squints into the distance. “… But isn’t that her right now? The one running around over there.”

“What?” Kon throws his gaze across the courtyard.

A black bundle darts from student to student, pigtails whipping back and forth. She stops before each person, her mouth a burst of movement. The girl executes a bow, then goes to the next student.

“R-Raven-san?!”

She turns in the direction of her name. Smiles, then begins making her way toward him.

Kon gulps. “You’re… okay.”

“Yes. I had to take some much needed time off. Headmaster’s orders,” she says, holding up her bandaged hand.

Her cheeks are pink, eyes rimmed red, forehead coated with a light shine. Has she been running around for a while? Kon wonders. Or… crying? Both?

“Th-That’s a relief.” He attempts to return her smile.

Raven passes a look between Cyril and Augustine. “… Oh, are these the friends you told me about?“

“Y-Yeah. Um…” Kon gestures vaguely at them. “Cy is a second year in Scarabia. August is a third year in Pomefiore. Guys, this is Raven-san from my class.”

Cy waves.

August gives a noncommittal grunt.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Raven chirps. Again, she bows. “Starting today…! I hope we can have a strong working relationship!”

The mob students stare at her. “Uh…okay?”

“You too, Kon-san!”

“E-Eh, me?!”

“Of course.” She rights herself. “You’re important too. Let’s all get along!”

With that, Raven bounds off, leaving the confused mob students. Her heart skips, matching her frantic paces. Feeling so free.

She stops whenever she spots someone. Teacher, student, ghost. An introduction offered, followed by a hopeful wish.

“Let’s all get along!”

Raven clears the Main Building, exiting into the spring time.

The air is sweet and whipped airy like a mousse. The sun is out, lighting errant pink petals on the wind.

Another day, priceless.

How pretty.

“The apple blossoms are beautiful,” a soft voice remarks, echoing her sentiments.

In the corner of her vision, a shape shifts into view.

It’s a lady with a flowery parasol, her gown a deep emerald hue. Her hair is golden, some of it done up in a milkmaid’s braid, the rest falling in waves down her back. A pearly shimmer radiates from her delicate, pixie-like features—button nose, rose cheeks, rounded eyes. One deep violet eye peers at her, the other half of her face covered by a swoop of flaxen locks.

Wow, Raven marvels, it’s like a storybook princess came to life.

“They are,” she manages as politely as she can.

“Ah, my apologies,” the lady gasps, fingers knitting over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever it was that you were doing. Student life must be so busy."

"Oh no, it's fine!" Raven stammers. She feels compelled to drop to a curtsey before her. "You must be from Foothill Town...?"

"From beyond that," she says mysteriously. "I've come to see someone. An old acquaintance, one might say--but they aren't expecting it. I know them, but they do not know me."

Raven tilts her head. "That’s a strange conundrum. Do you need help locating them? I may not be the best with directions, but I’m certain I could at least escort you to a help desk.”

She giggles. “They needn’t be aware. After all… I have already been watching from afar for quite some time.”

“You have?” A vague sensation trails along Raven’s back. Light taps, as if her spine is a xylophone being played. “What changed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“They did.” Her single violet eye shuts. “… It was not the ending I was expecting. They defied my expectations of them.”

There is no fire to her words. No ice either. She is devoid of feeling.

Raven doesn’t know why, but she shivers in the middle of that spring day.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asks hesitantly.

The stranger tilts her parasol down, shielding her expression from view. “It is simply ‘a thing’. It would not be wise to invest too much of oneself in what is only a story.”

A story?

Raven’s ears perk, her eyes blowing wide.

“… What did you just say?”

But when she looks back at the stranger, they are already gone. Vanished without a trace on a warm wind.

Raven clutches her heart. She has not noticed until now—it is at a gallop.

“Who was that…?”

In the midst of judging the wildflowers cut for the lounge, Vil is called away from his work. He turns away from the crystal vases and moving to receive the surprise guest.

The rain had come in the afternoon. Not a sprinkle, but a downpour. Hard and rhythmic against their pointed turrets. If the lack of appointment didn't deterred visitors, then the weather most definitely would have.

The double doors open to reveal a small figure. She is drenched to the bone, her feathers and hair sodden, flat with water weight.

“Shetland potato.” Vil’s hands find his hips. If he has sympathy for waterlogged animals, he doesn't show it in his stern glare. "It has been some time. What brings you to Pomefiore, hmm? Are you looking to resume your etiquette lessons with me, since it seems you haven’t the manners to know it’s highly inappropriate to appear unannounced?”

“U-Um…! I know it's rude of me, but could I possibly come in? I'll be quick--there's something I'd like to tell you and Rook-senpai--and Epel-san too, if he's around. Then I'll be out of your feathers."

Vil looks at her long and hard.

Finally, a sigh.

"... Quickly, you said? Then make it quick. And you're going to catch a dreadful cold walking around like that. I'll call for a towel and hair dryer."

"Here you are, Roi du Poison!" a chipper voice pipes up, producing the items he had requested.

"Thank you, Rook," Vil replies nonchalantly, accepting them. The dorm leader ignores Raven's gaping mouth and hand-waves her inside. The huntsman moves to close the door after her. "He has excellent hearing," Vil explains, "and comes promptly when summoned. Spend enough time with him and you'll get used to it."

("Bonjour, mon petit oiseau!" he whispers.)

They herd Raven to a stool ("Not on the couches! You'll get them all wet!") and proceed to dry her off, as promised. Ruffling fabric and the low hum of the dryer fill the lounge, shutting off only when Vil is satisfied. Throughout the entire process, Rook hovers at a distance as if he is a theatre patron watching a show.

Finished, Vil passes her a mirror, granting her a few merciful moments to admire how he has blown out her curls. She oohs and aahs at her reflection.

"... Now then, what is it that you wanted to say?"

Raven almost drops the mirror. She's thankful that she's able to get a strong grip on its handle. Seven years of bad luck, avoided.

"Oh! Er... I-I wanted say thank you."

Vil lifts a brow.

"For everything you've done for me," Raven continues anxiously. "I don't think I've ever had to chance to properly express my gratitude.

"So thank you. Vil-senpai, for giving me pointers on how to be more ladylike. Rook-senpai, for your support when I was going through a hard time. I'm... so grateful that I can be here with everyone."

"Oh la la!" Rook throws both of his hands up. His expression is one of alarm, but not displeasure. "Mon petit oiseau, I had sensed that something was different about you from the moment you strode in. Could it be...?"

"E-Eh?!"

Raven is rugged off the stool, swept up into his arms. Rook pulls her into a twirl, letting her feathers fly. She dizzies, her feet tangling--but he steadies her, catching her hands.

"It is!" Rook declares giddily. "You've been freed--found yourself at last. I know it."

"You're going to make her motion sick," Vil warns pointedly.

The huntsman gives a musical laugh. He doesn't release his grip on her. Instead, he lowers himself, peeking into Raven's confused amber eyes.

"You still have someone else to speak with, non?" Rook says it like a suggestion. A secret, shared between the two of them. "Go to him. Let him know how you feel."

"... Yes, I'll do just that." She squeezes his fingers. "Thank you again for everything, senpai."

"Fufufu. Please, don't mention it." He pulls back. "I wish you nothing but the best."

Vil is silent as he watches Raven drift for the exit. She pushes the door open, and sunshine spills inside. The sky is blue, and he hears faint birdsong.

The rain has stopped.

Raven doesn't look back as she closes the door behind her. Her vision is focused only on what lies ahead.

"... You're fine with letting her go like this?" Vil asks of Rook. "Surely a huntsman would fight tooth and nail to keep ensnared prey from fleeing the trap."

"You're mistaken, Roi du Poison." He raises an arm, as if performing to a stage. "There is joy to be found in witnessing the ones we love at their happiest. Raven-kun now knows where that happiness lies--and I am content with that."

Vil frowns. "You're truly an incomprehensible man."

[itacats]

Under the Shadow of Ghost

FT: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: trauma, war themes, nightmares, hospital environment, feelings of guilt/failure, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Guess what? Part 6 has officially dropped! Yep, the saga continues. Grab your favorite snack, settle in, and dive right back into the story.

Read Part 1 here! Read Part 2 here! Read Part 3 here! Read Part 4 here! Read Part 5 here! Read Part 7 here! Read Part 8 here! Read Part 9 here!

Part 6: Shadows and Whispers

The hospital walls loomed around me, stark white and cold, a reflection of the sterile life I was now confined to. The air was thick, tainted by the scent of antiseptic, but beneath it lingered something else—something unspoken, lurking in the unasked questions of those who passed by my room. The doctors, the nurses, they all had the same look in their eyes, a mixture of pity and hesitation. As if they wanted to ask what had happened, but knew the truth would be too ugly to face.

Recovery wasn’t a straight path. It was jagged, like the shards of my shattered mind, each step forward dragging me through the broken pieces of myself. The physical wounds—they could heal. The bruises would fade, the scars would form, but the deeper wounds—the ones carved into my psyche—those would linger, festering in the dark corners of my mind. Each night, as the world outside the hospital drifted into slumber, the nightmares came, relentless and unyielding.

In those nightmares, I saw them. My captors. Their faces twisted into grotesque masks of cruelty, eyes gleaming with malice. Their laughter echoed through the recesses of my mind, a haunting, mocking sound that made my skin crawl. They had a way of invading the darkness, warping it into a cage that I could never escape. Each scream I heard, each cry for mercy, was my own voice thrown back at me, distorted and alien. And no matter how hard I tried to claw my way out, I was never truly safe.

The nights stretched on endlessly, an unbroken chain of torment. And yet, amidst the suffocating weight of my memories, there was one constant—Simon. He was always there, a shadow standing guard at the edge of my consciousness, his presence a faint whisper against the roar of my fears.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

He would come at night, slipping into the sterile confines of the hospital room like a ghost—fitting, given his name. The first few times, I thought I was dreaming. His form, tall and silent, would materialize against the backdrop of the dim, artificial light. His skull mask, which had always seemed so imposing on the battlefield, now felt like an anchor—something solid to cling to in the storm of my mind. Simon had become my tether to reality, a lifeline pulling me back from the abyss I so often found myself teetering on.

There were no words between us. No explanations or reassurances. He would simply sit, his presence a quiet comfort in the face of my unraveling. The chair beside my bed creaked under his weight, the sound somehow grounding in the stillness of the room. And as much as I tried to hide it, he knew. He could see the ghosts that haunted me, just as I had glimpsed the ones that followed him. We shared the same burden, carried the same scars—though his had long since healed into the hard, unbreakable armor he wore every day. Mine were still raw, still bleeding beneath the surface.

There was something in the way he sat there, unmoving, his silence a mirror to my own. It was as if the two of us had entered into an unspoken pact, one where words were unnecessary because we already knew the truth: *we were broken*. Not in the way that could be fixed with stitches or bandages, but in the way that only time and shared pain could begin to mend.

I would lay there, eyes closed, feigning sleep while the memories clawed at the edges of my mind. I felt his presence, his steady breathing in the silence, and it became the metronome that calmed my racing heart. It was strange, how someone so scarred, so hardened by years of battle, could exude a sense of peace that nothing else could. Perhaps it was because he, too, had fought the same war—both within and without. He knew the demons I faced, because they were the same demons that haunted him.

And then there was the grief—his grief. Though he never showed it, I could feel it hanging in the air between us, heavy and oppressive. It clung to him, wrapping itself around his silent form like a shroud. He had lost people—just like I had. He had seen the same horrors, felt the same crushing weight of failure. But where I crumbled beneath it, he stood firm, a silent sentinel against the darkness.

There were nights when I would wake, drenched in sweat, heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. The nightmares clung to me like a second skin, suffocating me with their weight. And in those moments, when the world felt too heavy to bear, I would open my eyes to find Simon still there, his gaze unwavering, as if his very presence was enough to push back the shadows.

It was during one of those nights that I finally spoke. My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it was enough to break the silence that had settled over us like a heavy fog.

“I... I see them,” I muttered, my throat tight, as if the words themselves were strangling me.

Simon didn’t respond, didn’t even turn his head. But I knew he was listening.

“They’re always there,” I continued, my voice cracking under the weight of the memories. “Laughing. Mocking me. I can’t... I can’t get away from them.”

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, the only sound the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside my bed. And then, in the quietest of voices, Simon spoke.

“You will.”

His words, simple and without fanfare, cut through the haze of fear that had enveloped me. There was no promise in them, no false hope—just a quiet certainty that, somehow, I would survive this. Just as he had survived his own ghosts.

I looked at him then, really looked at him. And in that moment, I saw not just the soldier, not just the mask. I saw the man beneath—the man who had walked through the same fires I was now trapped in, who had emerged on the other side, scarred but still standing.

He was my Ghost, yes. But he was also my reminder that even in the darkest of nights, there was always a way back to the light.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed him.

Read Part 7 here!

You made it through Part 6! Thanks for sticking around and following along. Keep an eye out for the next chapter, along with a new story starting up tomorrow!

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 42

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, MC's POV

Words: 6,008

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12   Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20 Part 21 

Part 22 Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26 Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39  Part 40 Part 41 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47

You knew instantly when your vessel breached the waters of Asshai. An ominous air hung heavy over the near pitch black waves. The sky had now been painted in a dark gray with even darker clouds rolling by. It made the bottom of your stomach feel heavy with lead. Legends of this land did not disappoint. Exactly as your mother had told you.

Ahead of you was the sharp outline of the Shadow City. A few ships already docked bobbed lazily on the harbor docks. Latilth seems to vibrate against your leg, the scales around her neck puffing out as she hissed. Brushing your hand over her head you could feel her wariness. Even Latilth didn’t know what to make of it and not knowing scared the mighty beast.

“This is it.” Melisandre’s face is numb as she stares out, her hands tucked inside of her long, scarlet sleeves. She didn’t appear to be too excited about the notion of returning home.

Even Inniros stood at a distance, one blue eye blankly gazing upon Asshai’s shores. What exactly had you gotten yourself into?

Unconsciously you start to worry chew on the inside of your cheek. You had been through a lot since leaving Westeros, yet nothing quite prepared you for something like the Shadowlands. Yet it was something like a vague dream to you.There was a certain familiarity that startled you. Like you had seen it all before, felt the same chill in the air long ago.

Was this from your past life? Remnants from Azor Ahai?

Ray was the only one to maintain his cheery smile. “My word, won’t this be fun!”

For a moment, Rhiannon glances at him with an incredulous expression before tightening her hood around her head. Mumbling something under her breath along the lines of “Crazy priest.”

Weapons already secured to his back, Weles joins you and heaves a sigh as if preparing himself for the trials to come.

From the upper deck of the ship, the captain announces to you that the ship would be pulling up to the docks in a matter of moments. A seasoned master of the seas, Captain Magahl wore the bright, warm colors of the Servants of R’hllor. He was the one who ferried the red priestesses across Essos to do missionary work for the temple. From their drop off destination, they would travel on foot to various cities.

Heavy waves stilled to a gentle roll coming into the harbor. The ships that came into view appeared abandoned had it not been for a few masked workers aboard. Unloading their wares from tough voyages to the wooden boardwalk where they were hauled away. Great spiked towers became more prominent, red glows from windows telling you that there was life present. There were littered among the towers round roofed buildings yet only one home out of ten seemed to be used as a home. The rest of the land was eerily quiet. You feared even to breathe for it might be too loud.

A relentless fog carried you in as the ship’s crew starts to throw ropes over the edges and climb down them. You watched them as they scurried to tie down the ropes until the anchor was fully released.

To the side you hear Weles and Magahl speak to one another. “We’ll stay within the Ash Sea, but I can’t stay in these harbors. It doesn’t feel right.” The captain had whispered with a scowl. “My men aren’t comfortable.”

Weles grimaces but knew there was nothing he could do to assuage him to stay in reach. It would make getting back to the ship would be difficult.

The matter would have to be dealt with when the time came. One obstacle at a time. At least the captain would be leaving a rowboat behind. That meant only a few would be able to go while the others would have to wait until the ship returned.

You went down to your quarters to hastily pack a bag that would have enough provisions for you until you reached the Shadow Hills of the darkin. Not possessing many belongings to begin with, you made sure that Latilth would have plenty of cured meats if she was unable to find any prey.

A small voice inside you worried that Latilth would become disoriented in a new environment and fly away.

Your fears were put to rest when your group finally disembarked and set foot onto the wooden planks of the harbor docks. Latilth didn’t seem too eager to leave your side as her side is constantly pressed into your leg. You thought at one point you heard her hiss her displeasure. She had grown accustomed to blue skies filled with clouds for her to dash through. Asshai’s sky were the color of soot and the air was heavy.

“Try not to look around too much.” Inniros instructs you as he passes by. “Keep your gaze forward.”

Weles covers your left side while Rhiannon keeps to your right. Behind you were Melisandre and Ray, there to protect your group’s blind spot as Inniros takes the lead. The pace was steady and while you tried to keep your eyes trained to the front, they wandered relentlessly. Hungry to look at this once land of the forbidden. The architecture was shiny, sharp and unforgiving. Looming over you in a dominant fashion. Every so often your heart would leap into your throat when you thought you saw a shadow wiggle and move.

Passing by an orange-hued window, you caught a glimpse of someone standing in their doorway. Their mask is what made you gape and hastily avert your gaze. A gold mask with pitch black eyes seemed to stare at you. You had forgotten that most people in Asshai wore masks when they were outside. Feeling vulnerable, you tug at your scarf and tried to pull it over at least the bottom half of your face.

Inniros kept your group continuing down the road, growing further away from the harbor and salty air of the ocean. In the middle of a street was an odd statue made from obsidian. Atop of a smooth stone podium was a cloaked figure; their face covered by a heavy hood. The tip of their nose peaked out, accompanied by lips that looked to be whispering a secret. Carved hands are clasped together. More unsettling was the fact that the figure appeared to be on their knees, begging for forgiveness.

For a moment, Inniros stops to look upon the statue before making a right turn. Buildings were thinning out, becoming a barren path that could only produce weeds. Empty shacks littered either side of the road. Ahead of you were the jagged mountains that were growing closer.

The city disappears behind you. Twisted trees littered the rolling gray dirt of the land. Bare of any leaves or fruit. Truly, Asshai was a wasteland. Inniros had warned them ahead of time that the walk from Asshai to the Shadowlands would not be an easy one. Especially when you had to hike into the valleys of the Shadow Hills. From the valley there would be a secret tunnel that only the darkin were able to access.

When you finally reached the mouth of the valley, your feet were burning from exhaustion. Your knees nearly buckling from the exertion you were demanding from them. Not letting on to how tired you were, you were using Latilth now basically as a support.

From the mist came a female’s voice. “You bring strangers to our land.”

The low spikes on Latilth’s spine tremble in aggravation. Latilth’s actions made everyone quickly position themselves for battle, including you who immediately had Lightbringer unsheathed although it wasn’t covered in flames. You still had yet to call them to you on command. The shine that came off the Valyrian steel sword was menacing enough. In the center of the road, a pool of black was forming from shadows that were making their way lazily to join the others. They crept from boulders and crevices alike. From the pool, a head covered in blue hair emerged slowly until she was physically standing before you. Your arms lowered an inch at this odd beauty. This darkin’s hair was painted in a hue of crushed sapphires and her kohl lined eyes bore into the naked soul. The straight line of her eyebrows endowed her with regalness the likes no one in Westeros has ever seen. Shadows trailed down the top of her head and to the ground like a morbid veil. You had never seen such a color of hair, not even from the many Tyroshi you had seen during your travels. She was a lovely creature with a golden diadem that encircled her brow.

Everyone holds their breath, waiting for an attack. Inniros doesn’t see her as a threat though. He has made no move whatsoever. “How long have you been back in Asshai, Loviisa?”

“A few months. The shadows kept urging me back to the Shadow Hills.” Her voice dripped like honey and the more you looked at her, the more you thought that she could give Cersei a run for her money in aspects of beauty. “You’re lucky I was the one to find you here and not Master Batur.”

“Batur is the very man we wanted to see.” Inniros casually replies, ignoring Loviisa’s scrutinizing blue eyes that roamed over your group. Distaste lit her eyes when they fell on Melisandre, Rhiannon and Ray. It was easy to pick out the clergy of R’hllor. The red articles of clothing gave them away.

“And who is ‘we’, Inniros?” Loviisa kept her face composed, not a wrinkle of her brows nor twitch of her eye gave her away. “You’ve forgotten your manners since we parted ways.”

By his voice, Inniros sounded bored by the whole interaction. “If you insist we do this here. Loviisa, this is Azor Ahai reborn. (y/n).” He shuffles to the side so you were in complete view of Loviisa.

You greeted her as Inniros had instructed. Closing your eyes and bowing your head until she could see the crown of it.

“A little girl with an even smaller dragon.” She murmurs.

Her barb slides off of your shoulders. Cersei had called you worse things. You maintained your smile although it lost it’s original shine. All darkin at first meeting were surly, it appeared. Inniros had the same demeanor as Loviisa did now.

“I never took you as stupid, Inniros.” Loviisa scolds him. “You really believe that this girl is the real Azor Ahai reborn? And let me guess, you plan on telling Batur this.”

Inniros nods. “Nice catching up with you, Loviisa. Now let us pass.”

Shadows writhe around her, having an almost tentacle-like appearance as they stretched down the path until it threatened to brush against Inniros’ feet. “You’re willing to risk endangering your own kind? Look at who you have brought. A fire priest, two priestesses, and what I can only assume is a guard for whatever temple she came from.”

Latilth lifts her wings in an aggressive posture when even she spots the shadows’ approach. Her mouth opens partially to reveal the tips of her sharp teeth. Between the gapes were sparks of orange. She was feeling threatened enough to actually use her fire.

You calm her with a hand atop her head, though she did retain her posturing. You wished you could do the same for the rest of your group. Rhiannon tenses up, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag while Weles was already preparing to attack. Then Inniros began to speak. The worlds that tumble out of his mouth were odd sounding. Melisandre moves out of the group formation to pace to the front. Her own red lips spoke a similar vocabulary as Inniros. The female darkin scowls at Melisandre’s intervention but waited as the red priestess spoke.

Loviisa walks forward, speaking to Melisandre in the same foreign tongue. The deep crease that had been worrying her brow softens a small measure. She heaves a sigh before nodding. “Alright. Keep to your word, priestess.”

Melisandre gently nods her head, a brief movement before she goes back to Ray and whispers something in his ear. Ray merely crossed his arms, keeping his features leveled.

Waving for your group to follow her through the valley, Loviisa weaves your group up to the mountain. On the side, there. Is a large boulder blocking a possible entry tunnel.

Inniros explains “Past this Boulder is the way to the heart of the Shadow Hills. The only way to get past is to walk through the shadows to the other side.”

Weles bristles. “Only you two can walk through shadows.”

“Not necessarily.” Loviisa’s dark veil of shadows springs to life and runs down her back like water. When she raises her arms the shadows hang off her arms. Pitch black drapery. “Darkin who are strong enough can wrap the shadows around other people so that they may cross with us. But while under our blanket, you will be unable to see anything and it will cause you great nausea.”

You really weren’t looking forward to more nausea. You thought once you left the ship you would be through with it.

“But the more you do it, the less sick you will become each time.” Inniros added, wanting to reassure your group.

No one appeared to be in a rush to get to the Shadow Hills. Rhiannon and Ray were the first brave ones who stepped forward. The young red priestess murmurs “Lets get this over with.”

The darkin explain that they could each only carry one at a time. Inniros gathered Rhiannon close to his side before materializing a thick blanket of darkness. It crawls up his legs, spreading across his shoulders as he hunches over Rhiannon. They became a black blur as they disappeared. Loviisa did the same with Ray, leaving you, Weles, and Melisandre alone.

“Nyke year dark has bisa.(I don’t like this.)” Weles whispers, his fingers itching for his weapons. Being blind and disoriented wasn’t something member of the Fiery Hand were used to. They were all ways in control.

Melisandre takes Rhiannon’s place next to you. “Gaomagon said urneptre nakostobaves issue naejon hen ilva kosh.(Do not show weakness in front of our champion.)”

That was enough to shame Weles into silence as Inniros and Loviisa returned for two more. Weles insists that he go along with the strange darkin. He wouldn’t trust you to anyone he didn’t know. At least he had spent much time with Inniros on the ship, even if they didn’t really speak to one another.

You watch them leave the same way Rhiannon and Ray had. Very softly, you grab onto one of Latilth’s horns to draw her close to you. You vaguely hear Inniros telling Melisandre that he would be back for her over the loud drumming of your heart.

Inniros placing his fingers delicately on your shoulder makes you jump. “Are you ready?”

No. . . I need Jaime here with me. We’ve been facing dangerous obstacles together for so long. . . I don’t want to do this alone.

“Look down at Latilth.” He quietly instructs you.

When you do, you find her calm as she’s sandwiched between you and Inniros. She turns her long neck to look at you. She didn’t seem as bothered as before.

“See how she’s not afraid?”

Latilth bumps her horn against your palm that was resting on it. You smile and find a pillar of strength. “Okay.”

You close your eyes when Inniros has to draw you a little closer to him. The sudden contact made your chest flutter, not having been held like that in so long. A shameful thought that you were prompt to shake out of your head.

Inniros shuffles before you feel a sudden chill run through your body. That same odd sensation when Inniros had captured your shadow during your first encounter. You felt Latilth’s side bump into a few times as Inniros guides you into the shadows.

“Just keep walking like you normally do.”

You almost tripped when you suddenly felt weightless. It scared you, but he kept his grip firm on you and kept giving you encouraging praises. That’s when your stomach felt like it was being pulverized by a mallet. You definitely did stumble once your feet came into contact with solid ground, the chill passed yet it still left you feeling cold. If it hadn’t been for Inniros anticipating your stumble, you would have fallen painfully onto your hands and knees.

“Easy (y/n). Keep your eyes closed until the nausea passes.” You heard Rhiannon tell you.

Inniros hands you off to someone else so he could retrieve Melisandre. You did as Rhiannon suggested and kept your eyes shut tight, waves of nausea rolled over you. Eventually it passed and you were able to open your eyes. Rhiannon smiles at you, an orange glow cast over her from the torches on the either side of the tunnel walls. Your eyes widen and gape as you take notice of the stone floor and high vaulted ceiling of the tunnel. There were actual wooden support frames.

“This tunnel was built during Azor Ahai’s time.” Loviisa comments, eying you slightly. “There wasn’t always a boulder there.”

She left it at that when Inniros appears with Melisandre. She shudders before disentangling herself from the darkin. “That was as unpleasant as I thought it was going to be.” Melisandre leans on the rough wall of the tunnel, breathing heavily. Her face was as white as a sheet. But her scarlet eyes were alert and roved around her. "So this is the entrance to the Manor of Shades."

"Indeed." Loviisa nods and resumes her role as leader. On wobbling knees, you stand up and check on Latilth. Unphased by having just shadow danced, Latilth is already back on her feet, using the tips of her wings to assist in walking. Rhiannon playfully bumps your arm with hers.

"We lived." She comments with an easy smile.

Your eyes shine when you look at her. "We did! And if we can survive shadow dancing, then maybe we can even survive this mission." You wanted to get back to the temple as soon as possible so you could tell Tyrion and Jaime what had happened. They would never believe you but at least you had several other witnesses to this crazy feat. Like the stuff out of fairytales. That's the life you were living now. How crazy it was compared to your quiet, docile life as a lady of blue blood. Maybe in the Lannister case it would be gold blood.

"Don't let your guard down, nuha kosh." Weles warns as he urges you and Rhiannon to start following the others as the two of you had stayed behind. The tattoos on his face appeared to glow in the torchlight. "We haven't even made it to their fortress yet. Who knows what trouble we can meet on our way their."

Rhiannon rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "She knows that already, Weles. Let her have at least a moment of happiness."

The captain of the Fiery Hand frowns and trails behind you while reminding Rhiannon "You should be taking your duties more seriously, Rhiannon. You are a red priestess of the temple after all. Take notes from the Lady Melisandre."

His reprimand managed to make her quiet. Weles meant well, but he could be strict most of the time without even realizing it. Rhiannon told you once that many people at the temple always compared her against other people, especially Thalina. They would say she wasn't as talented as Thalina or as powerful as Melisandre. It especially hurt when they compared her to Thalina. She wasn't even scholarly. You liked Rhiannon the way she was though. Her attitude was bright and her snorting laugh always brought you joy to hear.

The tunnel eventually started branching out in different directions, Loviisa skillfully choosing the correct path each time for it didn't take long to come up to an iron framed door.

Loviisa turns to your group. "Behave yourselves, all of you. The Manor of Shades is not used to visitors. Especially those that follow the Lord of Light. Keep close and don't touch anything. When you meet Master Batur keep quiet until he addresses you. He has little patience."

"Sounds like he hasn't changed much." Inniros actually smirks when Loviisa glares at him.

Her back to you once more, Loviisa opens the door and steps aside to watch each one of you go in. Your group filed out to a large hall with black columns that supported an iron arch across the ceiling. Hanging metal lamps were tethered to the ceiling by strong chains. Tinted stained glass made multiple colors fill the room. You could make out the exquisite metalwork lattice produced designs for the light to form through. In awe, you unconsciously follow the group along as Loviisa's skirts swept across the cold black stones beneath her feet. In the distance was a faint humming. She starts to ascend a narrow stair case when you fully turned your attention back to where you were going. In a neat single file line, she leads up to the next floor where immediately you see two figures sparing in front of a massive fireplace.

They stop when they sense your presence. The taller, much older man merely stands and stares. His companion was a younger man with blonde hair and an equally pale complexion as that of Inniros'. His dark eyes look curious as he glances at his master. Who else could the older man be but Master Batur? The closer he got you noticed how his eyes were heavily lined with crow's feet accompanied by a sharp beard that had gone completely gray. He didn't look happy to be seeing his old student after so many years.

His voice was raspy and deep with an admonishing undertone. "You have brought strangers into our home, Loviisa."

Batur hadn't even acknowledged Inniros' presence. That wouldn't go by Inniros. He pushes past Loviisa to glare at the older man. "They have come here to escort Azor Ahai so that she may meet you."

"She?"

That's when all eyes turned to you and Latilth. You take a deep breath and approach Batur. His cold eyes remind you of Tywin's. Always disapproving. "An honor to meet you, Master Batur. I am (y/n) Targaryen, Azor Ahai reborn."

"Of course he will not listen to anyone." Inniros explained to you one night when you ask him for tips on how to convince Batur that you were Azor Ahai reborn. "Fighting him is unavoidable."

You groan and lean over your hammock. "I was worried you were going to say that. You really expect me to fight a darkin master?" Latilth was sleeping comfortably underneath your hammock. In a few more days she wouldn't be able to fit anymore. She was growing fast with the open sky and sea nourishing her.

Everyone else in the cabin was dozing so you and Inniros had to whisper. You knew Rhiannon was possibly pretended to be asleep to listen in.

"The fire of Lightbringer will at least make him consider our words and let us stay."

"I don't know how to do that either."

That's when you felt Inniros' single eye on you in the dark. "You will. When the time is right you will. Just trust in your instincts. If you are Azor Ahai reborn, then his instincts are your instincts now. Channel them."

You never pegged Inniros to be an optimist but he made you feel like you could indeed rise to the occasion when the time came. Moving your eyes back up to Rhiannon's bunk, you imagine that if she is awake, she's agreeing with Inniros. "Okay. Anything specific I need to know when fighting him?"

"Take the advantage of knowing that he will underestimate you greatly. So, just show him what you're made of."

Batur stares at you for a long time, those chilling eyes of his drilling you to the ground. You sneeze such utter resentment readjusting off of him. Perhaps not personally toward you, but more so for the fact that you associate yourself with those of the Lord of Light.

You purse your lips together, knowing that you sounded crazy even saying that out loud. The time you spent at the temple had made you acknowledge. Certain things going on in your life. While you certainly didn’t feel like some champion, you knew that there were too many fantastical things going on as of late. You were able to stop a darkin dead in his tracks with a sword of fire. You walked into a pyre and came back out unharmed with a newborn dragon. Maybe you weren’t worthy of the title of ‘champion’ quite yet, but you were on your way.

His eyes gradually slide over to Latilth who does nothing to hide her immediate dislike of these strangers. She kept obediently close to you despite her trepidation. Batur moves on from Latilth to the red haired darkin Inniros. You worry about Inniros. This was the man who had purchased him at such a young age after the death of his mother. The way Inniros has spoken of Batur, you knew that he had abused him when he was a boy. His master had claimed it to be the Rite of Courage and Cowardice. He had been equally brutal with young Loviisa as well.

Batur spoke in that language which Melisandre, Inniros and Loviisa had spoken in earlier. Sharp and biting was the tone of his unknown words. You imagined them to be insults toward Inniros who passively stood his ground, his arms crossed as he listened before interjecting with his own even words.

Then Batur mockingly snaps at you “Well where is your flaming sword, Azor Ahai?” You barely prevent yourself from flinching at his tone. Weles nearly releases a loud snarl, begging to fight this disrespectful man. A vein in his arm twitches and you mentally praise him for his self control.

Your gait is stiff as you walk to Inniros’ side and slowly unsheathe Lightbringer. The Valyrian steel sword, while undoubtedly beautiful, shined with no flame around it. As much as you pray for it to go aflame, nothing happens and you blush in shame. Dread makes your chest heavy with lead and you can’t bare to meet the darkin master’s eyes. He scoffs at your display. “Just a fancy sword. What makes you think this girl is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai? Did those red maniacs manipulate you into thinking that?”

Melisandre mutters a curse in Valyrian underneath her breath. The malice that the darkin held toward servants of R’hllor may well ruin any attempt at speaking with this man. You were only comforted by Inniros’ passive expression as he stares at his former master. His voice is smooth and even. “She has been unable to summon the flames on her own but I’ve seen it. Felt it stab into my shadow.”

“You’ve always been a stubborn boy.” Batur shook his head, shame hissing out of him. “But you were never stupid. What did they do to you while you were made their prisoner?”

For the first time since arriving, Inniros turns his face away from Batur to look at you. His head motions you forward and you knew you couldn’t just remain in the background as a silent character.

You take a deep breath and look into his unwavering eyes. This man would definitely not believe in anything you had to say. He was a man of action. “Test my blade out for yourself, Master Batur.” The only times Lightbringer managed to catch flame was when you were truly put to the test. First with Inniros and then the pyre that hatched Latilth.

The young man who was next to him actually chuckles, earning a glare from his elder. His hands began to move oddly, gesturing toward you and back to Batur for more hand movement. He didn’t speak, but from what the young man was doing, Batur understood him.

“Ulian is right.” Inniros nods to the acolyte. “Let her show you.”

“Very well. Those in red though must be restrained.” That meant your friends behind you. Understandable, but they were not going to be happy one single minute being held still by the shadows. An unpleasant experience you remember all too well. Such a coldness coats your insides. “And if you fail to even produce a spark, I’ll have all of you executed.

Against the darkin, you didn’t know if your group would survive. Their powers were too great in their home. When you look at Rhiannon, she gives you a warm smile, mouthing “You can do it”, but the others appear slightly unsettled by his threat.

Ears warm, your booming heartbeat deafens you. You were scared. Lightbringer somehow began to soak it away.

Weles and Jaime had taught you well. This wasn’t your first fight with a darkin, but Inniros was no master. Who knew what skill level Batur was at. You didn’t have to beat him, all you had to do was invoke Lightbringer’s flame. There was no strategy you had come up with. You would simply improvise.

Ulian, the young darkin in training, smiles at you and gestures for you to follow his master toward the sparring ring where he had been previously. Now that you were closer to him, you noticed a dash of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His large, dark eyes inquisitively examine you. He reminds you of when Latilth was first hatched and how curious she was of everything. Momentarily you cast a glance at Latilth who has her head tilted sideways, wanting to follow you her wings flap a little until Rhiannon pats her horned head which seems to soothe her. Latilth chirps out helplessly but trusts in Rhiannon’s gentle hand on her head.

Batur stood opposite of you, his own sword already gleaming out in the open. A short sword, you figured darkin mainly used their shadows instead of actual weapons. Inniros had only had his obsidian dagger when you fought him. You were easily able to shatter it. Batur’s sword wasn’t black like the forged volcanic glass. A steely blue color gave his short sword a bright sheen.

“Come on then, Azor Ahai. Show me that fire of your’s.”

Your fingers tightened around the hilt, not liking having to be the first one to make a move, You dash forward.

That cold sensation of darkin controlled shadows crept wooing your spine but you were faster and got out of reach. Batur was waiting for you to become distracted by his shades as he struck out at you in the blink of an eye. You brought up Lightbringer to bear the brunt of his attack, feet forced to dig into the ground from his harsh impact. Clenching your back teeth together, you throw him off of you and untangle yourself from his shadowy touch. You had to keep moving. If you stayed in one spot for too long, it was easy for Batur to grab onto your shadow. Fighting a darkin was a slightly annoying task.

Only mere seconds ticked in the process of Batur switching sword hands to wield another weapon; a black dagger much like Inniros’. You rock back on your heels, the jagged edge of the dagger snips at your knuckles on the hand that was holding Lightbringer. Reeling your arm back with a hiss, you didn’t let it stop you from advancing toward Batur. He could cut you up as much as he wants.

Each slash you bore from the dagger was little compared to what his sword might do to you if he caught you in his web.

There was no way to avoid close combat with him. Alright, that was fine by you. Inniros thankfully prepped you ahead of time for this occasion.

You managed to grab the sleeve of his robe to throw him off his balance. The surprise of your action gets Batur for a moment, that was all you needed. In that moment you grab his hand that was holding his dagger and flex it in a way that Weles had taught you. His fingers pop open making his blade fall to the ground. Batur grunts from the pain but proceeds to try and fend you off with his short sword. For an older man he was strong and initially resisted the pull of your other hand until you threw your body into him. He wraps his arms around you and suddenly you can’t see anything. Everything is dark , your insides freezing each second of blindness. Before you know it, you’re thrown against the ground of the arena. Your head spins uncontrollably but you stay steady on your feet to brace another shadow emergence.

Instead he attacks you with his short sword. You went to bring your Valyrian steel sword to shield you, anticipating his strike. The clash makes your bones ring inside of you. Sliding against the sharp edges, your blades slide away from one another. As he moves his shoulders for another offensive jab, you are already slicing a horizontal arc toward his torso. Hastily, he attempts to bob away from your assault but you catch his shoulder with Lightbringer, slicing clean through the material of his sleeve. Grimacing, he melts into his shadows. Anxiously you slow down your breathing so you could listen for his movement better. Out of nowhere pain radiates in your leg. You grit your teeth and twist around to slash at him, but he is out of your reach and promptly melting into shadows.

He was goading you on. Taunting you. From wherever he was hiding, Batur was still able to manipulate the shadows to try and freeze you.

Before anything else you hear the flapping of wings and then an unholy shriek. Then flames. A new kind of blindness strikes your eye from the sheer ferocity of the fire. White light makes your pupils shrink and you hear Batur yell, the shadows spitting him back out. Batur’s hand was covering his eyes before he angrily shakes his head and squints them open. His left hand tightens around the hilt of his short sword. The blinding light had come from Latilth who was flying above you. Her mouth was menacingly open. Latilth's name rings as your friends try to coax her back. Latilth would not obey them and instead hovered above Batur like a hungry vulture.

She gave you the perfect opening though and moral support that boost you hold Lightbringer close to your chest and close your eyes for a moment. Tightening your fingers around the hilt made the cuts on your knuckles burn. Pain was nothing new to you.

In fact you were beginning to find it very useful. Pain was fodder for your anger. And that anger flickers alive into a small spark.

That spark was enough to ignite an inferno inside of you. Rippling out into so much vibrating energy that it nearly tore you apart. Using Lightbringer as a conduit, you channel it through the steel. There's a 'whoosh' that accompanies the vortex of swirling reds and oranges around your sword.

Batur, recovering from the shock of being forced out of his shadows, thrashes towards you with dagger in hand until he saw your blade. Not a second after your sword lit aflame did Weles and Inniros jump into action to make sure the fight was over. You had won. Now Batur had to hold up his end and not kill you all.

Safe behind the figures of Weles and the red headed darkin, Latilth finally glides down to earn a scolding from Rhiannon.

"She has produced the flames you so desired." Inniros points out to his seething master. "Now you must listen to us."

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[high-priestess-house]

𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖙 𝕯𝖊𝖈𝖐 𝕭𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌

NOTE: you do not have to do this. however, if you're looking for a tarot deck blessing ritual, this may be for you.

Materials Needed:

• Your tarot deck

• A white candle

• Incense (such as sage, lavender, or frankincense)

• A small dish of salt

• A small dish of water

• A crystal (such as clear quartz or amethyst)

• A piece of cloth or a special box for storing your deck

• Optional: Essential oil (like lavender or frankincense)

Steps:

1. Preparation:

• Find a quiet and clean space where you won’t be disturbed.

• Cleanse the area by lighting the incense and walking around the space, allowing the smoke to purify the environment.

2. Create a Sacred Circle:

• Place the candle, salt, water, and crystal at the four corners of your space to represent the four elements: fire, earth, water, and air.

• Light the candle and place it in front of you. This represents the element of fire and the light of your intention.

3. Center Yourself:

• Sit comfortably and take a few deep breaths to center yourself. Close your eyes and focus on grounding your energy. Imagine roots growing from your feet into the earth, anchoring you.

4. Cleanse Your Deck:

• Pass your tarot deck through the incense smoke, visualizing the smoke removing any negative or stagnant energy.

• Sprinkle a small amount of salt over the deck, symbolizing purification and grounding.

• Dip your fingers in the water and flick a few drops over the deck, representing emotional clarity and cleansing.

5. Invoke the Elements and Spirit:

• Hold the crystal in your hand and place it on top of the deck. Visualize the crystal’s energy infusing the deck with clarity and spiritual insight.

• Say a prayer or invocation to the elements and any deities or spirit guides you work with. For example:

Elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water,

Bless this deck with your strength and clarity.

Spirit guides and guardians, lend your wisdom and protection.

May this deck be a tool of insight, truth, and light.

6. Set Your Intention:

• Hold the deck in your hands and close your eyes. Visualize a bright white light surrounding the deck, filling it with positive energy.

• Speak your intention aloud. For example:

I bless this tarot deck with love, light, and divine guidance.

May it bring clarity, wisdom, and insight to all who seek its counsel.

7. Store Your Deck:

• Wrap your tarot deck in the cloth or place it in the special box. This protects the deck and keeps its energy intact.

• Keep the crystal with the deck to maintain its energy.

8. Close the Ritual:

• Thank the elements, spirits, and guides for their presence and assistance.

• Blow out the candle and allow the incense to burn out naturally.

• Take a moment to ground yourself by touching the earth or a grounding object.

Your tarot deck is now blessed and ready for use. Remember to periodically cleanse and recharge your deck, especially after heavy use or significant readings.

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: April 8, 2025

Reworked Character #3: Eri Kasamoto

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to abandonment, abuse, underage drinking, crime, an unhealthy romance, death, and SA.

Real name: Chizuko Utsunomiya

Alias: Memphis Bomb Princess

Occupation: Staff Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., one of Ptolemaios’ deputies (formerly), and the leader of a street gang (formerly)

Retirement plans: Open up an inclusive orphanage in Hiroshima and get the necessary requirements to become a pyrotechnician and swim instructor

Special skills: Orchestrating stealth missions and suppression operations, excellent motor skills to move across difficult terrain, proficiency in explosives, survival techniques, and lock picking

Hobbies: Swimming, kickboxing, building and testing out explosive gadgets, thinking about her past mistakes and what she could’ve done better during her solitary nature walks, and playing card games with her friends that include some sort of money-related bet

Likes: Fio, pyrotechnics, aimless walks, having the swimming pool all to herself on a hot summer day, and the built-in spring-loaded hammer that her first gun had before Macba crushed it

Dislikes: Missing out on chances to put her kickboxing skills to the test in combat, riding in vehicles she isn’t able to drive, overly mischievous, lazy, and hot-headed people, being touched without permission, and cults

Favourite drink: Vodka (preferably Spirytus)

Sexuality: Homoflexible sapiosexual

Gender: Female

Age: 16 (in 2022), 22 (in 2028), 24 (in 2030), 26 (in 2032), 28 (in 2034), 35 (in 2041), 37 (in 2043), 38 (in 2044), and 41 (in 2047)

Blood type: B-

Weight: 126 lbs. (57 kg)

Design: She��s a 5’ 6” (167.64 cm) Japanese ectomorph with an athletic, sylph-like build, broad shoulders, sand-hued skin, a black mole under her right eye, and T-anchor top scars. She has dull chestnut eyes with visible bags beneath them and fingernails that are painted a metallic green. She once had jet black hair, but she bleached it to a dirty blonde. Her bangs resemble those in Eri's Metal Slug Tactics portrait, but her hair is styled in a mid-back shaggy wolf cut, often worn up in a ponytail secured with a blackish-green hairband.

Eri has a jarring diagonal scar that runs from the left side of her temple, across the bridge of her nose, to her right levator scapulae muscle. She also has self-inflicted stab scars on the palm of her right hand, cut marks on her right forearm, the skin on her arms and shoulders have been picked at, and her legs are riddled with scrapes. She lost her left forearm in a traumatic incident, later receiving a metallic silver prosthetic replacement from Ptolemaios during her training. She dons green gold snake bite and silver jestrum piercings, and her makeup features a glittery, smoky artichoke green eyeshadow, light brown mascara, and coral pink lips.

Eri’s military gear consists of an olive green bandana on her head, a metal dog tag necklace with her name, and a black headset for communication with her snipers. She wears a black bra, a myrtle-hued sleeveless midriff with six crimson buttons, and the same knee pads that are worn by Eri in her concept art for Metal Slug 3. She wears a purplish-grey unbuttoned coat with ripped sleeves, four pockets, and a hidden strap compartment that holds her electrical baton. On the back of her jacket is the logo of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., which Fio kindly embroidered for her. Her purplish-grey army cargo pants were tucked into black combat boots and held up by a silver-buckled dark teal belt around her waist. She has a sheath for her combat knife and a drop leg holster for her handgun with a silencer.

She wears a black MCU-2/P gas mask with red-tinted lenses, olive green gloves, black elbow pads, and sage-streaked silver tassel earrings. She wears a keychain necklace, a gift from her late girlfriend Emily, featuring a fiery comet encircling a reddish-purple amethyst stone carved into the shape of a human heart. Eri is adorned with two black steel armlets, one on each arm: the right armlet has a circular green crystal at its centre, while the left armlet has a red one. The green crystal grants her the power to unleash grey lightning, while the red crystal, forged from a fragment of Sol Dae Rokker, can summon deadly, wolf-shaped spirits that dive-bomb enemies.

Over her midriff, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries around her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. She carries around a sage green load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, pineapple grenades, fire bombs, Stielhandgranate, hand-crafted explosive gadgets, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, three canisters of gasoline, a Rocket Launcher, and a bottle of vodka. Her olive green waist pack, secured at the back of her belt, holds a silvery flask of vodka, a matchbox, and a compact makeup kit containing her eyeshadow, mascara, and lip gloss.

The pockets of her coat contain a pack of fruity bubblegum, a navy blue lighter, a rainbow-coloured bouncy ball, a deck of playing cards, and her lucky gold Kaiki Shoho coin. Meanwhile, her cargo pants hold lockpicking tools and three boxes of cigarettes. She has worn gauze wrapped around her right forearm, a gun holster for her handgun, and a sheath for her machete. She's still in possession of a Ptolemaic Army-commissioned scoped bolt-action rifle, which is often draped over her left shoulder.

Character summary: She's a vengeful, sarcastic, cynical, and tomboyish leader who will stop at nothing to brutally hurt anyone she perceives as a threat to her comrades and friends or have caused them genuine harm. She has a sadistic streak, evident in her peculiar habit of smearing her enemies' blood on herself to intimidate others. When focused on her military duties and protecting those she respects and cares about, she tends to neglect her own needs. Eri’s outspoken and crass demeanour shows no fear in speaking her mind, telling others off, and using profanities. She views the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. as a close-knit unit filled with pride and unwavering trust, and she secretly fears the possibility of receiving orders that could disturb her sleep. She doesn't fully trust the Regular Army because of the many corrupt individuals she was tasked with silencing who worked alongside them as well as the way they treat their soldiers as mere pawns in warfare and tools for information gathering.

As a self-reliant and lonesome individual, she’s bitter and aloof towards those she dislikes and strangers. She has a tendency to engage in dishonest behaviour and manipulate situations to her advantage. When confronted about these actions, she often responds with aggressive language and contradictory arguments. She holds immense respect for the deities, particularly Sol Dae Rokker, due to her deep understanding of their crucial role in maintaining the universe's equilibrium and their tireless efforts to uphold the concepts they embody. She’ll go to great lengths to worship and make sacrifices to Sol Dae Rokker, often ritually sacrificing the remains of her enemies and indulging in drinking contests and card games with her team of Ptolemaic rebels.

She fearlessly rebels against anything she deems morally wrong or a life-threatening risk. She shows no mercy towards her enemies, and her military missions showcase her exceptional resourcefulness, cunning, and tactical prowess. She’s capable of sympathy and offering wise advice, but her willingness to do so greatly depends on the situation and her personal connection with the individual. She has immense compassion for those who endured a difficult childhood and does her best to offer comfort and support. Lacking formal education, she takes initiative to educate herself on a wide range of subjects from fundamentals to practical, real-world issues. She's good at keeping secrets and assisting with confidential information to take down corrupt individuals or uncover hidden truths. She hates it when people blame her and the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. team for not making thorough reports, even though the reports contain all the necessary information.

She becomes deeply distressed and depressed if she discovers someone she cares about has attempted or died by suicide, believing they had the potential for happiness and a meaningful life. She finds narcissism, toxic masculinity, and attention-seeking behaviours utterly distasteful, and is particularly sensitive to being misjudged or perceived as a "bad person”. Eri isn't much of a party person; she prefers to isolate herself completely and get thoroughly drunk or hang out with a small group of familiar faces, immersing herself in gambling and card games. She's an alcoholic but will never admit it because she believes she doesn't need help with her emotional problems and thinks that revealing this will drive people away, especially those she cares about the most. Her disinterested, fiery temper, and outspoken attitude tends to kill the vibe at any party she attends. However, she's capable of having fun and being outwardly positive when she's in a particularly good mood and calmly focused on the happy aspects of her life.

Eri considers her team of Ptolemaic defectors and select members of the Regular Army's elite forces to be like family, including Ralf, Hyakutaro, Tyra, Alisa, and Red Eye. She's overly protective of Fio, whom she regards with sisterly affection, Marco, whom she admires as a courageous leader deserving of comfort and sympathy, and Walter, whom she treats like a younger brother with endearing curiosity.

She harbours significant animosity towards Tarma, seeing him as a hot-headed idiot who only causes trouble and can't take things seriously. Despite her best efforts to tolerate him, she can't help but snap at him when his silly antics go too far, he inadvertently ruins a plan or he gets too flirtatious and physically close to Fio. She longs to understand why he left her all those years ago and can't shake the feeling that he was only interested in a fleeting excitement, violating the trust she once had for him. She's eager to reach out to her younger brother, yet worries that acknowledging their biological tie might lead to rejection, and she'd miss the opportunity to connect with him face-to-face.

She deeply appreciates the unwavering loyalty and obedience of her team of Ptolemaic Army rebels, whom she calls the Magpies. Their well-being is paramount to her, and she'll stop at nothing to ensure their safety, driven by a profound fear of losing or failing them. Although she hesitates to acknowledge it, lest she hurt their feelings and/or diminish their sense of worth, she does harbour a special affinity for certain members, with some holding a closer place in her heart than others.

Her top favourites are Mikuláš, Thandolwethu, Amilcare, Ekaterini, Yohanes, and Zdravko. She holds them in high regard due to their unwavering support, exceptional expertise in guerrilla warfare and stealth, and efficient completion of tasks. On the other hand, her least favourite team members are Harvie, Souma, Juozapas, and Priyanka. She finds them less impressive due to their tendency to slack off, often distracted by gossiping, playing card games, taking frequent smoke breaks, admiring nature, playfully teasing their comrades, coercing others to do things they shouldn't be doing, and engaging in flirtatious behaviours. She's most concerned about Gyeong-Hui and Dezső, given their young age, socially withdrawn nature, difficulty trusting others outside of their team, and clingy relationship with her, viewing her as a maternal figure. She deeply respects them and appreciates their dedication to their military duties, and frequently checks up on them to ensure they're doing alright.

She has strong romantic feelings for Nathalie, seeing her as an awesome, down-to-earth fighter and a passionate, independent woman. She finds it amusing that Nathalie struggles with providing comfort, yet always does her best to make others feel happy and okay. She does her best to help Nathalie work through her emotions when she feels mentally overwhelmed or finds herself slipping back into a depressive slump. Eri likes to fearlessly flirt with her in private or after completing a mission together, taking delight in her flustered reactions and awkward attempts to flirt back. She often finds herself being more open about her true feelings when she's around her, which embarrasses her when she realises she's talking too much about herself, even though Nathalie doesn't mind. They enjoy rambling about religions, their stances on morality, and the meanings and symbolism behind each recorded story.

Once a full-blown romance blossoms between the two, Eri goes above and beyond to be the best lover Nathalie has ever had. She becomes very overprotective, fearing that she might lose her to unfortunate circumstances. However, she respects her need for space and backs off when Nathalie convincingly reassures her that she'll be fine or needs some privacy for the time being. She's not the most affectionate person, but she's willing to offer Nathalie physical affection and comfort when she needs it. She's very supportive of Nathalie, making sure her well-being is prioritised and helping her relax when things become difficult.

She lives with claustrophobia, mild generalised anxiety disorder, insomnia, atypical depression, and borderline personality disorder. To cope with her mental health struggles, she often presents herself as highly intelligent, serious-minded, and seductive. However, when anger takes hold, her emotions can be difficult to contain, although she strives to maintain some self-control. Notably, Eri prefers not to be called by her old name as it evokes memories of her past trauma, which she’s trying to desperately forget. She's a hardened pessimist, often appearing mentally exhausted and emotionally unfazed, yet she consistently demonstrates resilience and stubborn determination. She can't help but feel jealous towards those who have loving parents and weren't abandoned by them. When she's had too much to drink, she becomes prone to argumentativeness, physical aggression, and melancholy, and often sleepwalks.

She has a deep-seated distrust of Christianity, believing that many people hypocritically exploit God and Jesus' teachings to conceal their true intentions. She also thinks that certain Christian teachings clash with the harsh realities of life. Furthermore, she believes that God seems apathetic to humanity's well-being, watching them suffer endlessly, letting evil to continuously flourish, and restricting the potential for salvation. She often takes prayers from the Bible and alters a few words to dedicate them to Sol Dae Rokker because she can't stand the idea of praying to deities that lack concrete existence and are merely products of the human mind. She only prays to Sol Dae Rokker before moments of intense battle, after the death of a beloved comrade or to express her gratitude for his importance and the good things in her life.

She holds that morality is culturally relative, and therefore, there are no universal moral laws, making it challenging to distinguish right from wrong. In her view, human societies construct their values based on their distinct beliefs, customs, and practices, which are also influenced by social and emotional pressures. She believes that right and wrong are simply labels and nebulous concepts that nobody can fully grasp because they’re obscured by cultural influences that shape morality to control individuals and prioritise personal comfort. She believes that individuals have a moral obligation to protect innocent lives and uphold the goodness inherent in justice. Regarding war, she thinks it can be justified if it meets certain criteria: it’s openly declared by a governing authority, has a just cause, and aims to establish a lasting peace. She acknowledges the coexistence of life and death but does not see a clear connection between the two.

Backstory: Chizuko Utsunomiya was born on June 6, 2006 in Hiroshima, Japan. She was abandoned as an infant at the entrance of a Christian church by her parents, who had wanted a son instead of a baby girl. Her name was discovered on a piece of paper tucked inside her baby carriage. She was raised by the Christian church where she was sent to live, an institution with a strict religious environment. There, children who misbehaved were subjected to psychological reprimands. During Chizuko’s younger years, she acted out as an attention-seeking troublemaker, but was frequently punished through humiliation and isolation in a dark closet.

She would be frequently bullied by children who were considered to be well-behaved and good in the eyes of the church staff. They targeted her for her perceived sinfulness by spreading false rumours about her, belittling her, and vandalising her toys. She endured occasional physical abuse and emotional manipulation by the church orphanage staff who used the threat of eternal damnation to control her behaviour. This treatment had a profound effect on her, making her quiet, nervous, and obedient. As a result, she grew to resent the church, finding its teachings to be at odds with the harsh realities of her own life. She eventually lost faith in God, feeling that He seemed indifferent to human suffering, allowing it to persist without genuine intervention or care.

At the age of 6, Chizuko met Tarma and quickly befriended him after building a sandcastle and searching for worms under a heavy rock. This chance encounter taught her that there were kind people outside of her church community, and she had opportunities to form new connections and discover herself. She met up with Tarma a few more times until he stopped visiting Hiroshima, leaving her feeling alone and sorrowful.

Once she figured out the ways of the world, she escaped from the sanctuary of the church at the age of 12, alongside a small group of friends, eager to taste the forbidden fruit of the world. Seeking vengeance, she and her friends burned down the church orphanage in retaliation for the abuse they had endured. Most of her early life remains private. However, her invigorating and tomboyish nature lended her as a capable leader, founding a gang of street kids called the Chromium Wolves. They engaged in criminal activities, primarily petty theft, drug sales, weapon trafficking, and murder. They even dismantled a large criminal organisation by using intelligence to disrupt their operations and seize their trafficked goods.

Details about this period are scarce, but it's known that Chizuko developed a fondness for vodka, a habit of starting fires, and a knack for lock picking during this time. She narrowly escaped being taken into custody by the police through financial bribes, avoiding a potential juvenile detention. She would also go through a couple of romantic relationships with girls. Her first relationship was short-lived after she quickly discovered that her girlfriend was using her for financial gain. Her second relationship seemed to be going well, but it ended when her girlfriend's parents found out about her being a delinquent and forbade their daughter from seeing her again.

At 15, she reunited with Tarma after he ran away from home, inviting him to hang out and drink beer and vodka. As they caught up on each other's lives, she began to flirt and get physically close, seeing him as someone she could trust. However, Chizuko’s desire to escape the past and run away from her problems clouded her judgement. They spent many nights together, engaging in erotic activities, and she even convinced him to participate in a few crimes. But everything changed when Tarma abruptly ended things and returned home to Hokkaido. Devastated, she felt betrayed, despite having used him to fulfill her own desires and advance her gang's interests. This experience explains her lingering animosity towards Tarma.

Her leadership skills, her appreciation for intelligence, and the Chromium Wolves continued to grow successfully, but that success was short-lived. Two months before she turned 18, Hiroshima was suddenly attacked by multiple bombings from a mysterious group, resulting in the loss of thousands of lives, including her entire gang—her first true friends. This incident sent the Japanese populace into a deep state of panic and uncertainty. In the chaos, she also suffered a devastating injury, losing her left forearm. With quick thinking, she managed to improvise a tourniquet by tearing the sleeves of her medium-sleeved shirt and stemming the bleeding.

While treating her injury, she was approached by a brown-haired, grey-eyed woman wearing the attire of a Ptolemaic guerilla. This guerrilla fighter didn't want to leave Chizuko behind, knowing she would feel terrible if left alone. So, she convinced Chizuko to come with her to meet up with Ptolemaios. Chizuko was hesitant at first, but with no other options, she took the opportunity. The guerrilla introduced herself as Emily Kuznetsova, and Chizuko decided to adopt a new name: Eri Kasamoto.

Unbeknownst to her, Ptolemaios had been observing Eri for some time, recognizing her potential as a valuable asset for his army. She was first showered with excessive attention and affection by Ptolemaios' most devoted followers. Afterwards, they subjected her to an initiation ritual where she was forced to consume the heart of a deceased baby goat in the name of the Dark Lord and drink Ptolemaios' blood. He arranged specialised training for her to enhance her espionage skills and expand her militant capabilities, focusing on shock tactics and demolitions.

Once she received sufficient training, he appointed her as one of his deputies, sparking jealousy among a few of the other deputies in the Ptolemaic Army. On his behalf, she was responsible for multiple stealth missions to further the technological advancement and tactical plans of the Ptolemaic Army. She would also carry out targeted assassinations of traitors on Ptolemaios' behalf, which would often result in him rewarding her with bottles of premium vodka and, notably, her two prized black steel armlets.

During this time, Emily's compassionate and courageous nature won Eri over, and she developed a strong romantic attraction towards her, which would eventually blossom into a full-blown relationship. Ptolemaios viewed Emily as a potential obstacle to his objectives and sought to eliminate her, motivated in part by his suppressed and secret sexual attraction to Eri. Emily's death was staged to appear as a suicide, with her disemboweled body found in a dumpster, however, the circumstances surrounding her death remain unclear.

Two deputies—Elite Special Forces Commander Zoilo and Lieutenant Colonel Macba—observed Eri's struggle to cope with Emily's death and offered her superficial comfort. However, in a devastating and traumatic turn of events, Eri was brutally sexually assaulted by the three deputies, driven by resentment over her close bond with Ptolemaios and the favouritism he displayed towards her. Eri's experiences, including the loss of Emily and the traumatic assault, had a profound impact on her, fueling her feelings of grief and anger, and prompting her to re-evaluate her involvement with the Ptolemaic Army. Memories of Zoilo, Macba, and Ptolemaios’ cult ignited intense anger and a desire for revenge against the Ptolemaic Army as well as self-loathing for her own complicity. Conversely, thoughts of Emily would intensify her longing for vengeance while also filling her with profound sorrow and existential despair.

She formed an alliance, which she called the Magpies, with like-minded individuals who shared her vision of opposing Ptolemaios' regime. They recognized that his ambitions posed a significant threat to global stability and universal security. They also sought to prevent Ptolemaios from summoning the Avatar of Evil, fearing its awakening could trigger a catastrophic apocalypse. In secret, she amassed a sizable following of nearly 30 supporters, including Mikuláš, Gyeong-Hui, Thandolwethu, Harvie, Amilcare, Ekaterini, Souma, Juozapas, Priyanka, Yohanes, Zdravko, and Dezső. Following days of meticulous planning, supply gathering, and vehicle procurement, she launched a daring assault on the Osaka compound.

During their fight against the Ptolemaic Army, they caused significant setbacks on the enemy's military advancement, hindering weapons development and army growth, while also eliminating numerous soldiers and cultists. Sadly, things took a disastrous turn when Eri's revolutionaries were ambushed by the Phantom Strike, a ruthless and elite mercenary unit led by Colonel Hilde Garn. As Eri clashed with Macba, she uncovered a stunning revelation: he, along with Ptolemaios, Hilde Garn, and 1st Lieutenant Wired, were behind the terrorist bombings in Hiroshima.

As she attempted to take Macba’s life, a seemingly malevolent presence intervened, halting her progress. Ominous whispers echoed in her mind, cautioning her that it wasn't yet time to end the Ptolemaic Army’s reign of terror. Uncertain and intimidated, she and her surviving revolutionaries retreated from Ptolemaios' Osaka compound, fearing the consequences of defying the mysterious presence. This decision would become a deeply regretted moment, one that she tried to suppress by viciously stabbing the palms of her hands.

Shortly after this event, she ripped off the sleeves of her purplish-grey coat to use as makeshift tourniquets for Yohanes and Ekaterini. She then intentionally acquired her top scars as a symbol of empowerment, seeking to erase the past, defy societal expectations imposed on women and girls, and embody her true identity. Around this time, she pledged loyalty to Sol Dae Rokker, harnessing his vengeance-fueling abilities to drive her determination to overthrow the Ptolemaic Army when the opportunity arose. Following this allegiance, she and the Magpies renounced their former loyalty, removing their armbands bearing the Ptolemaic Army insignia and dedicating themselves to just causes and the worship of Sol Dae Rokker.

Although she harboured resentment toward her parents after learning from a church orphanage staff member that they had abandoned her for selfish reasons, she was curious to learn about them. She conducted research into her heritage and made some intriguing discoveries. She learned she has a younger brother, Masahiko Utsunomiya, who works as an electrical technician. Additionally, she uncovered information about her extended family: her biological father had passed away and her biological mother had remarried and had two more sons. Her research also revealed a notable ancestor, Tsuneo Rokumeikan, her great-grandfather, who designed the Murder Model-1915 .38 Mk.1Am handgun and worked as a mercenary for the Intelligence Agency.

At the age of 20, she and her team decided to apply for military service, working under the Intelligence Agency as a formidable group of agents. Eri made a name for herself in numerous missions, earning a reputation as a vengeful leader amongst the Regular Army. She was known for eliminating numerous individuals, including treacherous soldiers and corrupt politicians, with some of her most notable assignments involving strategic seduction that lured her targets into vulnerable positions. However, she began to feel increasingly disillusioned by the constant assassinations and conspiracies that weighed on her conscience, reminding her of her time with the Ptolemaic Army. She applied for a transfer to S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., which was specially approved due to her exceptional record, indispensable skills, and intimate knowledge of the Ptolemaic Army's inner workings.

Before joining the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. team, she was assigned to stay close to the leader of a political party in Sirocco City. For six months, she served as his bodyguard, helping his children get to school and befriending his family. During that time, she patiently awaited an assassination order, looking for the perfect moment to carry out the task. Eventually, she did kill him, relieved that she didn't have to wait any longer as he had been giving off predatory vibes whenever he was around her.

As the demolition and stealth expert of S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., Eri led the Magpies with immense success. She befriended Fio and felt an instant, deep connection after a few friendly interactions, viewing Fio as the younger sister she never had and vowing to protect her at all costs. She vividly remembers the time when she and Fio took one of Tarma's custom-built motorcycle for a test drive in the desert, only to have Fio, who was behind the handlebars, lose control and crash. Fortunately, they escaped with minor injuries, but the incident profoundly heightened her protective instincts towards Fio, leaving her with a lingering fear of losing her. Ever since, whenever someone else is driving, she's gripped by uncontrollable anxiety, haunted by the possibility of another accident.

She played a crucial role in the Great Morden War by providing Marco's team with explosives, emergency rations, and valuable intel on Rebel Army positions through stealthy infiltration. Eri showcased her advanced combat and leadership skills by helping to thwart Morden's second coup, which was aided by her team, Fio, Tarma, and Marco. During the Extraterrestrial Alliance Clash, she commanded her team of Ptolemaic Army deserters, who were tasked with gathering intelligence on enemy positions and General Morden's whereabouts, while providing combat support. Due to her exemplary performance in suppression operations and her success in preventing the Rebel Army and their allies from executing an uprising, she was promoted to Staff Sergeant.

As Eri and the Magpies entered the pyramid where the curse of Anubis had been awakened, Marco ordered them to rescue any lingering archaeologists inside. They found only one who hadn’t been turned into a mummified corpse or slaughtered by Rebels trying to cover their tracks: Scott Amundsen Jr. Eri and the Magpies rescued him from a mummified pharaoh, two feline mummies, and a pack of rabid undead that had awakened in the crypt just before he could have been eaten alive or turned into one of them. He had been studying and lightly touching the hieroglyphs, murals, canopic jars, and treasures in an unexplored burial chamber, completely oblivious to the imminent danger.

She remembers Scott expressing his gratitude and mentioning that he had heard stories about archaeological expeditions in the ruins of Egypt accidentally awakening ancient curses and being attacked by mummies. He was surprised to find that those stories were true and that he was living through one. He incessantly talked about his divorce, his travels across Egypt, and how this recent archaeological expedition would make an incredible story to share with his daughter, Scotia. The older members of the Magpies, tired of his rambling, told him to stay quiet. They safely brought him to a contingent of Regular Army soldiers who had emerged victorious against a group of Rebel troops attempting to flee the pyramid through a secret exit.

Following the Survival Island Occupation, Eri was deployed alongside Marco and a contingent of Regular soldiers to investigate the South Pacific archipelago for Rebel activity and surviving cadets. She was shocked yet intrigued to discover that Division 6 and a group of cadets had not only survived but also successfully terminated the Rebel Army's reign of terror on the training island. Eri congratulated them, offering a thumbs-up in approval of their efforts. She also found it amusing to see Walter fawning over Marco, deeply admiring his numerous accomplishments in the Peregrine Falcons Squad.

[lowcountry-gothic]

A poem for each EnneaType.

By Melissa Kircher, transcribed from @enneagrampaths.

A poem for EnneaType 1

and failure isn't failing it's actually an event creating space for new life to burst into wild reality

A poem for EnneaType 2

the soot and ash a charcoal facade behind which two eyes, glowing watch out she burns hot

A poem for EnneaType 3

I think poetry might be inside you the words there ready to tumble out I think the stars shine only for you tonight and the earth turns to keep you on it

A poem for EnneaType 4

if I let out the pain I said it will shatter galaxies that's fine she replied I made lots of them you can break a few

A poem for EnneaType 5

stay anchor in the depths every drop in the ocean sings for your presence here. now.

A poem for EnneaType 6

opening like petals rooted like pines woven back whole one thread at a time stretching up, out, down new rhythms like rhyme mothered soul tender finding child eyes dancing forest wild tasting deep like prophets wise

A poem for EnneaType 7

the sun hanging by a thread details that weigh mountains I want to find you again the girl in the tutu that sparkled and when I do pulling you into my lap I'll whisper you already knew the wisdom of the Universe

A poem for EnneaType 8

strong is two feet solid in the soil toes curled into the loam strong is letting pain sweep through your branches and losing some leaves strong is allowing the shadows to surround you to change you and then gently letting them pass

A poem for EnneaType 9

what could I do? these were my people so I went I entered their anguish I felt their relation and then I understood the spectrum of my own heart

[axxxx13]

wip game make me write

tagged by @thiamsalpha and @ashyjingles :)

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

My wips (it's just thiam)

1)Souls for Sale

2)Healing souls

3)The anchors affaire

4)It's snowing

5) Sugarblood

6) Get you out (???)

7) Til the last drop

8) Just if you feel like it

9) Tooth fairy

10) Honey (?)

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