#Forced perpetration is a bitch and a half

[narc-angel-thoughts]

The ASPD urge to vaguepost about the ex who broke up with us during a breakdown instead of asking if we were okay or for any details about the situation that we were worried about. Tip for everyone dating mentally ill people: Not everything is as it seems. For the mentally ill people: It's very normal to think that you are the perpetrator in a situation that you were forced into. It does not mean that you are one.

[ningvory]

♡ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ME & YOU ┊ kim minjeong

parings: cop!gp!minjeong x criminal!f!reader

synopsis: after the gang you were affiliated with was found, cops came and and killed almost everyone. you were left with having to take them down yourself, just when you thought you thought you got them all, a young woman caught you. that woman being kim minjeong.

warnings: omg!? 1k followers already!? tysm you guys!! it’s only been a month and a few weeks since i started this blog and i had NO experience with writing, means a lot to me so i hope you enjoy this fic!! reader is lowkey a bitch, minjeong is cocky, violent, lotss of profanity, angry sex, minjeong fucks you in her office, oral (minjeong receiving), choking, cum swallowing, minjeong rubs your clit, overstimulation kinda, reader just needed a good fuck fr, unprotected sex (big no no guys!), cockwarming, minjeong’s office is soundproof, reader gets manhandled, they kiss like once, lmk if i missed anything!!

breaking the rules was second nature. you were involved in a gang which could've been the best or the worst choice of your life. you were mainly known for stealing because of how quiet you are. they start to think you're a trained assassin. you never used violence unless it was absolutely necessary, you preferred to keep your hands clean from some randoms blood when doing your job. you always went for luxury items, you're a expensive girl, anything that caught your eye you got it.

the gang you're affiliated had been on the most wanted list for some time. most wanted criminals on the loose ever since some jackass decided to shoot a guy at the club for finding and swallowing the illegal drugs, which the police found after some time of fully inspecting it. when you were notified you wanted to kill the guy off yourself, you weren't into taking drugs so you questioned how hard is it to keep them unnoticed.

no one seem to be aware of the police finding the base so when you heard the sound of a door getting kicked down and gun shots being fired, you jumped. you were half asleep due to it being close to 3 in the morning, they must've picked a late time thinking that you all were asleep so you wouldn't put up much of a fight.

you quickly jumped out of your bed, adrenaline running in your veins as you found a knife and a gun. you wanted to accept your fate but your pride was ahead of you, you aren't going down without a bit of a fight. they would have to take you dead or unconscious.

you ran out your room and was met with chaos. what was known as your home has now became a battlefield, your friends and coworkers were dead on the floor, their blood surrounding them. this just fueled the flame but you knew to keep your composure.

you quietly went downstairs, not making a sound and began shooting at every cop you see. dodging their bullets and using their dead comrades as a shield as you ran toward them, getting close enough so you can stab them.

it was a one woman army, shooting them all until it was only you left standing, white dress gown drenched with their blood as well as the rest of your body. the smell of blood makes you sick to your stomach every time. just when you thought you killed them all, someone attempted to shoot you. making you drop your knife from the shock. the perpetrator took the opportunity to try and pin you down but you were quicker, you kick their side and pulled their hair, bringing their face close to yours.

you inspected the perpetrator, it was a woman who you gotta admit, is stunning with short dark orange hair that was faded to black who stared back at you. you were about to land a punch her way but was met with the feeling us electricity being zapped through you which made you let out a scream.

"bitch! get off of me!" you screamed at the woman you was sitting on your tummy.

your words seemed to phase her because she landed a forceful slap to the side of your face which made you yelp and attempt to hit her back. she was obviously more stronger than your current state because she almost effortlessly pinned your hand above you and used her other hand to choke you.

you were gasping and twisting your body around in a attempt to get her off of you. strangled moans and whines spilling from your mouth and tears filling your waterline, threatening to fall at any given moment. just when you felt you were completely out of air, she let go and placed a cloth over you lips and nose, forcing you to breathe in the substance on the cloth. your struggle evidently grew slower and less frantic and your eyes were half lidded, threatening to close as your vision began to blur until you were met with a void of darkness.

-

you jumped up from your sleep, breathing staggered and panic filled your eyes as you struggle to manage what all took place. your memories came back to you as you calmed your breathing, you've been caught, you're not even aware if anyone else made it out alive or if they were all killed. you took a look around the unfamiliar room and looked down at your body, you're now wearing an orange prison suit, with what appears to be black sneakers.

"you awake now sleepy beauty?" a husky voice spoke which made you turn your head to the direction of where you heard the voice.

it was the same woman from yesterday, manspreading in a chair in your room.

"were you watching me sleep? ever heard of privacy?" you questioned, attitude laced in your voice.

"say bye to privacy, you get none of that here. wake up 'cause this is your new life." she smirked looking dead in your eyes, fixing her posture in the chair.

"you've slept long, its already lunch time." she spoke again, standing up and walking to the door, which made you stand up when she put her fingers in a "come here" motion.

the woman, which now you know as, minjeong by her coworkers but winter to the prisoners gave you a tour around the prison. showing where everything is, you don't understand why she's doing this. all the prison movies you've seen never shown a cop giving fresh meat a tour.

you don't even know how long your sentence is but you surely hated this lifestyle, the food was so shitty you spit it back out.

"who the fuck is cooking back there because they personally need to get their ass beat for cooking this shit. i'd rather starve." you muttered.

"they'll force you to eat if you don't yourself. they go as far as to stick a tube in your tummy and feed you like that." an inmate told you.

you began chatting with the inmate that you found out was karina, she was totally gonna be your best friend in this hell hole.

the first few days have been okay, you always had an uncomfortable sleep because you were sleeping on literal metal. the other inmates would always look at you creepily which freaked you out a bit, especially in the shower room. but luckily karina came in there with you. with minjeong, you hated her. from her cock ass attitude to the way she would just look so fine. it just pissed you off all together and you made her aware of that. throwing mean words at her anytime you get such as, "bitch, don't touch me." "leave me the fuck alone, bitch." she let it slide but today it seemed she was in a bad mood and she wasn't having none of it.

you woke up and she was in your room, like always. you always poke your fun at her, wanting to hit a nerve so bad so you can laugh in her face.

"you're such a fuckin' creep. don't you have something better to do than be in my room everyday even when i'm sleep?" you questioned, trying to sound annoyed but you do in fact don't mind her in here.

she said nothing but stood up and walked over to you, hooded eyes staring back into your eyes. it startled you, taking a gulp as she walked over to you before grabbing your arm and yanking and you up. dragging you to an unknown place.

"yah! what the fuck — where are we going!?" you whispered not wanting to drag attention to yourself.

she remained quiet, but you felt her hand squeeze your arm, telling you to shut up. so you did, listening to her for the first time letting her drag you to wherever it was that she was taking you to.

you were dragged into what looked like an office, her office. you inspected the area wondering why she brought you here.

"the fuck are we in here for— ah! what the hell?!" you were cut off when you were pushed down to the ground right in front of her black couch.

minjeong stood right in front of you and that’s when you finally saw it, her hard boner pressing against her cop uniform. just the position of you guys had made it visible what she was gonna make you do making you gulp.

minjeong, after making sure you see her problem, started undressing her bottom half. once she took off her boxers her cock rested flat against her tummy, angry red cock leaking precum already.

“go on” she muttered out, patience running thin.

“hah! make me— mph!” the words died down in your throat because she sure as hell did force you.

her hands gripped your head, keeping your head in place while her hips were thrusting wildly into your warm mouth. tears were running down your face while you were gagging on her thick cock, hands on her thighs trying to push you outta her mouth but she was far more stronger than you.

“fuckk! you’re so pretty like th-this, not being a mean bitch. ngh! yea — just keep your pretty eyes on me.” minjeong groaned, forcing you to keep eye contact while she used you as a flesh light.

“fuck! g’na cum! and you’re gonna swallow it all.” she groaned.

her hips began to stutter as she picked up the pace, thrusting wildly into your mouth making you gag until she stopped. your nose was on her pelvis, throat burning while you’re trying to breathe through your nose. she finally came, seed shooting down your throat, more tears prickling your eyes as you swallowed up all of her seed.

she finally pulled out, strings of your spit connected to her cock until the string broke. you were gasping, trying to inhale as much air as you can. she barely gave you a break because she manhandled you on the couch and pushed into you, making you scream she was fucking into you with no prep, you never had something so big in you!

you were screaming trying to run away from her until she pined you to the couch. thrusts were fast and hard making your body push up with every thrust.

“nghh- ah! wait — slow down!!” you cried, eyes shut and back arching with your hands frantically looking for something to grip on.

it was like she didn’t even hear you, her hips had a mind of its own. she growled seeing her bulging your tummy, removing her hand to toy with your clit and the other to press down on your tummy bulge. making you let out pornographic moans which are basically screams until she shut you up with a kiss, all your moans were muffled by minjeong until you came all over her and her couch!

she let you ride out your high, pumping into you until she’s cumming into you, painting your tight walls white.

-

“you just needed a good fuck, huh?” minjeong said, your attitude was the complete opposite from your regular one with her. you were on her lap, head resting on her shoulder while cockwarming her.

“oh shut up!” you groaned, lightly hitting her making her chuckle.

let’s just say, this affair was between you and her and you both were fucked if anyone ever found out! <33

[honeybunniii333]

ED ANGST

(GLADLY, he's my favorite to torture, actually. Aside from Nevin! It's my love language ❤️)

Pain, burning piercing pain in his stomach. It hurt... it hurt really fucking bad. It was so bad that he couldn't hold in the pained cry that the force of the blade drew out of him. His gaze slowly drifted down to stare at the blade embedded deeply into his stomach before it shot back up to the perpetrator of said action. "James..." he choked out. The boy looked mortified, in as much shock as Ed was. They'd been arguing again in the midst of yet another supernatural mishap in the kitchen of the home ec room when James had angrily drawn a knife. Ed had assumed it was a bluff as James had never dared to get physically violent with him. He'd threatened, sure, but it had only ever been just that, a threat. So when James had gotten angrier and angrier and approached closer and closer with said weapon, Edward had not been afraid. Why would he be scared of his friend? Perhaps he should have been...

As James seemed to finally register the depth of what he'd just done, he panicked. Yanking the blade back out of his 'boss', which resulted in another pained noise and Ed's legs giving out on him as he pressed his hands to the wound to try and slow the bleeding. "james.." he wheezed again. "I didn't..boss.. I didn't mean.. I-" His long stammering session was quickly interrupted by a horrified shout. "ED!?" Dez, Cody and Isaac, they'd gotten separated during the commotion, and the trio had finally managed to find them again, only to stumble upon quite the scene. James turned to face them, dropping the bloody knife in his hands as he stumbled back. "holy...shit.." Isaac whispered before they were all surrounding him. He was still processing what was happening as Dez gently pushed him back to lean back against the counter behind him. "Shit shit shit.. oh god..." Dez stuttered out as she brushed Ed's hands away to put pressure on the wound.

"I'm okay.." he croaked out, and the glare Isaac shot at him made him shrink a little. "You are literally bleeding out." he hissed, though Edward was pretty sure it was because he was worried and stressed. Isaac got pissy when he was stressed, so he chose not to take it personally. He coughed a bit. He was starting to feel really tired and woozy. Figures, they always seemed to need Drew anytime he wasn't with them. His senses felt dulled, his vision was blurry, and his head felt heavy and fuzzy. He knew he was losing blood pretty fast and partially registered the sound of Dez frantically chattering with someone on her phone, her hand reaching out to squeeze his in an attempt to keep him present. He didn't understand. He'd been so certain James wouldn't hurt him. Where was he anyway? Ed couldn't see him anywhere nearby, nor hear his rambling anymore either. He started to sink into his thoughts more and more until those thoughts started to fizzle out halfway through. His eye lids started to get heavy as he began to feel a bit chilly, shivering as he let his head fall back fully against the counter wall behind him.

"Hey, look at me." Isaac's voice drew him out of his dazed half thoughts. He forced himself to look up at the blonde hovering beside him. "Mn lookin.." he mumbled, Isaac's form looked hazy in his blurry vision, but he could still make out the boy's worry. Isaac tended to always look annoyed. He had an awful case of resting bitch face. But Edward had always found that to be an odd concept because he personally didn't think anyone looked very friendly when their expressions were blank. But maybe it was just him, Ed tended to think differently than everyone else, it seemed. "Ed..." A harsh grip on his arm startled him back to reality yet again. He'd hardly noticed his eyes starting to drift shut as his mind spiraled. "Mn here." he croaked out, his voice didn't sound like him... at least he didn't think so. It sounded weak, barely there. He'd have been embarrassed if he wasn't so out of it. Isaac looked somewhat panicked like he was scrambling for the answer to a question. He could hear Dez still talking and registered that at some point, Isaac's Flannel had been taken and tied against his wound to hold stop the bleeding. It didn't look to be working well, but neither were hands... Speaking of hands... Isaac had one on his face now, drawing his attention back to him as his own blood was subsequently wiped across his cheek. "Hey..uh.. uhm.. Stars!" he blurted out, and Ed couldn't help but wheeze out a laugh at the randomness of it. Laughter hurt, and his head hurt really bad, too. "Stars?"

"Yeah, stars.. tell me about them." he insisted like talking about stars was the most important thing ever. And in that moment, it was. God, as long as Ed kept talking, it was. Isaac had never ever thought he'd be praying for Edward Quinton to keep talking, but here he was... Ed winced as a shiver and a cough racked through him again, before speaking finally. "Well...There are about 9,096 stars visible to the naked eye in the entire sky... and.." he trailed off for a second. "The color of... stars can range from red to white to blue. But... I... know the colors are usually the... the opposite... but... Red is actually the coldest, and Blue is the ...the hottest." He continued on, and when he'd start to trail off between words or slur them around a little too much, He'd feel Isaac's grip tighten and try with all his might to will himself to keep talking. He talked.. and talked... until talking started to get really hard. His head was practically resting against Isaac at this point. He wasn't sure when he'd ended up like that. He could feel hands in his hair, too. "Ed.. cmon... you're almost there... stars?" he whispered, he sounded.. strained? Kind of... But his head was too foggy to piece together why. "Stars ...a..re..." he tried, but his eyes were nearly shut by this point, and staying awake sounded like such a pain. His head felt like it was full of static, and he couldn't move anymore. He just wanted to go to sleep. He knew Isaac was talking to him, telling him to stay awake. He could faintly register the sound of sirens.. and the hands on his face again, but that was it as he blacked out, finally.

The next thing he heard was the slow and steady beeping of a heart monitor. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and everything still felt kind of hazy. Not quite the same as before, though. He squinted, trying to take in his surroundings in the dim room. It took a moment for him to register he in a hospital room. And even longer to register, there was a hand holding his. His eyes trailed over to find Isaac. Resting against the bed holding his hand as he slept. Dez was across the room and passed out in an armchair. They both looked like wrecks, and Edward felt a pang of guilt as he realized it was because of him...His shifting seemed to wake Isaac. "Hey.." his voice sounded so soft it almost felt wrong coming from him. Not that Edward disliked it... "You gave us a real scare, Asshole." he grumbled, and that sounded a lot more like Isaac. He frowned, wincing in guilt and glancing away. "I'm... sorry.." he whispered. "How long.. have I been out?" He added after a short pause of silence. "About a day... everyone's been to visit. Your brother and Janet went for food. They'll be back soon..." he hadn't let go of his hand. Their fingers still laced together. "Fuck... haha.. guess I'm gonna get quite a few lectures huh?" He wheezed out a laugh. He smiled but was definitely not looking forward to that. "I don't think they'll be super hard on you..." Isaac assured quietly, which was followed by another long pause.

"... Have you been here this whole time?" He asked. Noting that Isaac's clothes hadn't changed at all. "...for the most part.. I've left to get food a couple of times." he admitted. Edward felt the urge to scold him for it bubble up in his chest, but he felt currently he had no right to lecture on self-preservation at the moment, considering where he was. "Dez needed someone to swap watching over you with, and I didn't have anything better to do." he insisted using the age-old excuse of boredom. "Isaac..." he sighed. "What?" The blonde huffed back indignantly. "Thank you." He hummed, letting his eyes fall shut and weakly squeezing the smaller teens' hand. Isaac's expression faltered, and he let his head sink back down to rest against the bed. "... Yeah..."

[memeapple2]

Aqua teen hunger force starters :^)

"YOU DARE DISRESPECT THE WORDS OF THE MIGHTY JIMMY!"

"You look at them and tell me there's a god!"

"I'm an adult and I deserve an adult glass"

"You don't own space, so stop actin like you do!"

"Okay have a crappy weekend I hope your house burns down."

"It don't matter. None of this matters."

"I'm just sayin' that if you continue rippin' off my idea, my unique graphics, someone's face is gonna get ripped off. And that ain't a threat, that's a guarantee."

"GENTLEMEN BEHOLDI HAVE LOST WEIGHT!"

"I am 30 or 40 years old I do not need this!"

"Its a groovy time for a movie time!"

"Hell, no, I pay no bills. I pay you no mind!"

"That says the bibble."

"Well, I'm just glad you finally learned some responsibility. In the most ass way possible."

"Are you the guy who keeps telling me to "Beware"? 'Cause I'll tell you where to be! Outta my sight!"

"God has allowed me to live another day and I'm gonna make it everyone's problem."

"DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO SUCK IT!? I DON'T HEAR NO GLUG GLUG GLUG!!"

“I’m gonna start dropping F-bombs. Listen to this: Fart you, fart head.”

“I don’t have any real dolls, I prefer to use my infinite imagination… cause I ain’t got no damn money.”

“We do whatever we want, to whomever we want, at all times.”

“It’s not Dracula, it’s just a damn school bus!”

“Hey, which one of y’all left the door open? And tore it off the hinges, and threw it in the yard?”

“You better run, boy! And bring back some chocolate syrup, too. Or your fate is sealed.”

"Where you should have a brain there's just a cavity that keeps you afloat. Isn't THAT something to be really proud of."

"Oh no, so what you're saying is this is a mystery and we have to go solve it, right? I scheduled this day off over two weeks ago. I made a memo."

"You're about to not have a mouth! And I mean it! I'LL RIP IT OFF!"

"You think you're gonna live forever, but you won't. Someone'll kill ya. Someone'll kill ya with a knife."

"Teeth are for gay people. That's why fairies come and get them."

"He needs his brain or else he's just going to float around saying 'do what now.'"

"Well, that was fun. I'm gonna take a nap now, and then I think I'm gonna call, uh, some hospitals."

"It is the Broodwich, forged in darkness from wheat harvested in Hell's half-acre, baked by Beelzebub, slathered with mayonnaise beaten from the evil eggs of dark chicken forced into sauce by the hands of a one-eyed madman, cheese boiled from the rancid teat of a fanged cow, layered with six-hundred and sixty-six separate meats from an animal which has maggots for blood!"

"I must say... bacon aside, this is the best damn sandwich I've ever had in my life."

"Hell no! That sumbitch had an axe!"

"Why do you disappoint me?? Second by second, you waste my time."

"The only reason God doesn't erase you from the face of the earth is beacuse you amuse him somehow!"

GOD YOU SUCK AT BASKETBALL!"

"GO BACK TO YOUR MAMA!"

"LORDY LORDY LOOK WHO'S TURNING 4040!"

"This cord was plugged into my house and your house was glowing like the freaking sun! So I put two and two together there... and decided that you're pissing me off!"

"Now, I am not a violent person. But I would kill somebody, in front of they own grandmother, for a ten-speed."

"The blood bank is an evil pyramid scheme perpetrated by Dracula and his night slaves."

"Only us adults can say hell, damn, bitch, and ass. So get your helling, damn ass over to that bitching, damn room dammit!"

"This will only hurt for a second... but damn will it hurt."

"Well I'm in business. Business of kicking your ass, and let me tell ya, business is booming. I'm open for business, business of giving you the business... up your butt. Business is good."

"People like me. Because I force them to. With violence."

"you can't tell me im drunk, thats between me and god"

"Yeah, I keep the blinds closed, so it's kinda disorienting. But you know, I don't want the government in my business."

"Now why don't you go back to the time before Christ, AKA next door."

"You are the gayest monster since gay came to gaytown."

"You're lucky I'm thoughtful enough to throw my anger at the media, and not your buttocks!"

[copaganda-clobberfest]

WELCOME

TO THE FIRST ROUND OF THE COPAGANDA CLOBBERFEST!

“You know that trope? That one trope *Everyone* hates? The trope in which a well meaning antagonist to our heroes, one looking out for the good of a certain community, suddenly does something horrible and drastic to make not only them, but the ideology they stand for the most villainous of all?”

NOW IS THE TIME TO BATTLE THEM OUT! Like Ken dolls, fighting for survival! Like your Polly pockets discarded in the closet, we’ll see which of these bitches jumped that slippery slope harder! Whose character did numbers on y’all, and blew up a bunch of grandmas and babies and hospitals with it!

ROUND ONE

DAENERYS TARGARYEN from GAME OF THRONES vs PRINCE LOTOR from VOLTRON (LEGENDARY DEFENDER)

Dany propaganda (TW: domestic abuse mention, slavery):

“Sold off as a slavewife to a warlord in another country. Slowly rises up gaining the love and trust of the warlords people, eventually becoming their leader after his death. Goes on to conquer another nation and free all the slaves. Deals with her quickly growing list of real and perceived enemies in increasingly awful ways. More stuff happens. Eventually she makes her play for the throne of Kingslanding and forced a swift surrender… but instead snaps… over…? and instead starts killing everyone in the city indiscriminately because the only way to build her great version of the world everyone who even remotely likes the current one has to die.

And then her sorta bf kills her.

Its kinda funny how the US was also founded on a revolution lead by people with Not Great Morals and its media industry loves to now churn out stories where revolutionary figures turn out to be bad guys, actually, so you shouldn’t revolt and just accept your place in their world. Is this actually a British psy-op to get americans to accept the error in the ways and rejoin the UK?”

“daenerys propaganda: the literal in-text justification d&d gave for dany always being secretly evil and destined to massacre innocents was that she was too mean to the slavers that crucified a bunch of children. so they had this domestic violence survivor die of yet more domestic violence. they couldn't even let her go down in battle, she had to be assassinated by her lover in a moment of physical intimacy. (and tyrion, who literally strangled his gf to death and burned a fleet alive, suddenly became the audience avatar fretting about ethics.) the only woman permitted to retain power at the end of the show (sansa) was the one who said being raped and abused made her strong; dany, who explicitly condemned physical and sexual abuse and took steps to eradicate the perpetrators and break the wheel that crushed the oppressed, had to go crazy and die. the script explicitly condemned what they referred to as "liberation theology." d&d are the ultimate centrists and they turned dany into a fox news caricature of an activist.”

Lotor propaganda (TW: xenophobia):

“He wasn't exactly presented as a straight-up villain initially, more like a rogue agent. He wanted to reform his father's evil empire to be less tyrannical and xenophobic (the 2nd one is especially relevant because he's only half Galra. He went from an enemy of the heroes to an ally, then oops! turns out he's actually been a genocidal mass murderer with a god complex this whole time and then he dies in the most horrible way. It's been a while since I watched the show but I will never stop being mad over how they did my boy dirty.”

Always feel free to rb with more propaganda :)

[queen-of-the-avengers]

CATFA: Part Ten

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon violence, language, and angst, major character death

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Steve leads you and Bucky to one of the ladders on the side of the train. You enter through one of the doors, and as soon as the door is closed, the outside wind gets cut off. It's eerily quiet inside the train. There are double doors on either ends of the train cars thast lead all the way to the front of the train.

Steve walks through those double doors fiollowed by you, but before Bucky can get through, both door close and lock automatically.

"Bucky!" you yell and bang on the door. Someone comes into the room behind Bucky holding a very big gun, and you point to him to alert your boyfriend. "Look out!"

You want to help him but you have bigger issues at hand. There is one guy shooting at Bucky while another is inside the same train car as you and Steve. This guy, however, has a weapon made by the Space Stone so it's much more powerful.

He begins firing at you and Steve, forcing you two to duck for cover. If only you can get to the door, you can use your aerokinesis to try and force the door open or down, or maybe you can use your pyrokinesis to burn the mechanisms.

"Cover me. I am going to try to get that door open," you say to Steve. 

He nods in agreements and prepares top shoot like his life depends on it. He uses his shield to protect the both of you while you run over to the door. You place both hands flat against the smooth metal and let your fire powers heat it up until it becomes too weak to hold its own. Some of the metal melts to the ground until the hole is big enough for you to pass through.

The second door is the only thing in the way between you and your boyfriend. He's ducked behind some containers as his perpetrator shoots at him. He looks up and sees you through the window, and you motion for him to move out of the way. Once he does, you blast the door with your air powers, causing it to break in two. Half of it stays on the sliding mechanism while the other half is blown into the room.

The attacker stands up straight knowing you're a threat to him. Before he has a chance to react, you lift him up with your air powers and slam him against the wall so hard that his spine cracks in two.

"Are you okay?" you ask and help Bucky to his feet.

"Yeah, I'm good. I had him on the ropes."

"I know you did." The shooter that Steve thought he subdued comes back with a bigger vengeance. He aims his gun at you three, and Steve tries to get you out of the line of fire. "Get down!"

The man shoots at Steve's shield, sending all three of you back to the end of the car. The blast hits the side of the car, blowing a huge hole through the side of the train car. The shield lands next to Bucky who grabs it to protect himself. He shoot at the man, but the man sends another powerful blast at your boyfriend.

Bucky gets blown back, drops the shield on the ground, and gets thrown through the big ass hole. He grabs one of the bars that prevents him from falling to his death.

"Bucky!!" you scream. "Get that son of a bitch! I'll get Bucky!"

Bucky's hands are slipping off the metal bar he's clinging so hard to because he can't hold his own weight anymore. He's going to die in this moment, he knows. One of his hands slip off right before the other ones does. You jump out of the moving car and fly down to him. He only falls a few feet when you catch him. He looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

"Did you really think I'd let you fall?" you chuckle.

You start to fly him up toward the speeding train but you're never able to get to it. Someone from either down below or in the mountains shoots at you with the same weapons as the mysterious man inside the train. You dodge one of them only to be hit with another one. You're forced to let go of Bucky's hand as you go crashing into the side of the mountain.

Your crash site makes a huge hole in the side of the mountain, and you weakly crawl to the edge to see where Bucky went.

"Bucky!!" you cry out.

You jump out of the hole and go flying down to the base of the mountain, but before you can get too far, more shots are fired at you. Whoever is shooting at you clearly doesn't want you to go down there. Bucky is most likely dead, and if you continue down there, then you will be too. 

Steve can't afford to loose two people, so you make the heartbreaking choice to leave Bucky and fly back to the train. Steve is there with Arnim Zola in handcuffs. Steve knows what happened to his best friend as soon as you came back without him.

"He's gone," you sob and fall to your knees.

Arnim Zola ws brought back to London where he was arrested for his crimes, but you and Steve had to take time for yourselves to grieve. The bar you and Bucky danced to before watching the sunset is destroyed by small bombs, but you and Steve find a home in it to drink in silence.

Well, if silence means you crying for Bucky.

"I had him, Steve. I told him I wasn't going to let him fall. Someone starting shooting at us, and I tried to get away but one got me. I tried to go after him, but they started shooting at me again. It's all my fault," you sob.

"It's both our faults," Steve sighs and takes another drink from the bottle. 

"I was gonna marry him," you whisper. "I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him."

Steve doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't. Footsteps can be heard from behind, but you know who it is. She always seems to appear whenever Steve is in distress. 

"Dr. Erskine said that the serum, wouldn't just affect my muscles, it would affect my cells. I'd create a protective system of regeneration and healing, which means I can't get drunk. Did you know that?"

"Your metabolism burns four times faster than the average person. He thought it could be one of the side effects," Peggy says and takes a seat at the table. "It wasn't your fault."

"Tell me, Agent Carter," your voice cracks with anger, "how this isn't my fault. I can fly. I caught him. I promised him that he would be safe. I let go."

"You both did everything you could. Did you believe in your friend? Did you respect him?" she asks, and you and Steve give her a wordless answer. "Then stop blaming yourself. Allow Barnes the dignity of his choice. He damn well must have thought you two were worth it."

"We're going after Schmidt. I'm not gonna stop till all of Hydra is dead or captured."

"You won't be alone."

She's right, you won't. Bucky is the only person who didn't survive that mission. You still have the entire team you and Steve put together. Colonel Phillips wants all of Hydra dead, and if he's going to do that, then he needs to recruit the team you gathered. All of them, including Peggy, meet in the London headquarters to discuss the next steps.

"Johann Schmidt belongs in a big house," Colonel Phillips says. "He thinks he's a God. He's willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the USA."

"Schmidt's working with powers beyond our capabilities. If he gets across the Atlantic, he will wipe out the entire eastern seaboard in an hour," Howard informs the group. "It's a good thing we have someone who has powers beyond our capabilities."

All eyes turn to you, but you keep your head down.

"How much time we got?" you ask.

"According to my new best friend, under twenty-four hours."

"Where is he now?"

"Hydra's last base is here," he says as he points to a photo he's holding of the base, "in the Alps. Five hundred feet below the surface."

"So, what are we supposed to do? I mean, it's not like we can just knock on the front door," one of your teammates scoffs.

"Why not?" All eyes are on Steve as he speaks. "That's exactly what we're gonna do."

If you're going to be charging into enemy territory, then you need to be prepared for anything. Steve can't fly so he's using his trusty motorcycle to get him through the front gate. Everyone else is on stand by while you two bypass their security. You're on the back of Steve's motorcycle as he drives throught he forrest closer to the main entrance. Other motorcycles can be heard in the distance as Hydra soldiers try and catch up.

"Keep driving! I'll keep them off our backs!" you shout to Steve.

You grip his shoulders to help you stand on the back seat. The air around you kicks up dirt, twigs, and other debris that you keep away from you using your areokinesis. There are about eight soldiers all on mototcycles and more weapons made form the Tesseract.

You're not going to give them a chance to hit you.

Fire forms in the palms of your hands, and you use those fireballs to destory each and every one of those bikes. As soon as your fire touches their tires, they explode into pieces. Some of the drivers get impaled by said pieces, but others are wounded to the point of death if medical care isn't administrated right away.

The entrance to the base comes into view, and a huge tank with the same kind of weapons start firing at Steve. He takes his shield and places it at the front of his bike so that the beams will reflect off it instead of through him. Steve presses a red button near his handlebar that triggers bombs nestled inside the bike. The bombs are small but pack a heavy punch when used.

The broken tank is in the way of getting through the front gate, so Steve uses a fallen tree to his advantage. He rides along the thick base until he's fully inside. Both you and he jump off the bike as it continues to drive right at the cement entrance that will lead you inside the actual base. It crashes into the cement wall, but the bombs still elft inside are enough to create a large hole for you to enter through.

Soldiers come all around you, but you're going to kill as many of them as you can. Steve doesn't have your powers to rely on but he does a good job in disabling a lot of soldiers with just his shield. To men with flamethrowers trap you and Steve in a diamond of fire, and that just makes you laugh.

"Gentlemen, I can do that, too."

Fire shoots out of your arms mimicking that of the flamethrowers.

"Stand down," Steve says to you.

Right. If you're going to get inside the base where Schmidt is, then you have to allow yourself to get caught. Once Hydra perceives you and Steve are no longer a threat, they surround you by the dozens. Two guards are on both sides of you and Steve, and they take you deeper into the base where Schmidt is. You don't have handcuffs on you, but they made it clear they will hurt you if you try anything.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ididntpushher]

I watched her die.

I kept trying to convince myself of the insignificance. As her blood ran forth ironically quickened by the loss of life, her bones beginning the marathon to the surface, and all the warmth of a life compassionately lived flit into the open air and dissipate, I realized I hadnt found the solution to the puzzle, I had just broken it, and now I had twice as many pieces and no way, even were they able to be fit together, that a solution would become of my efforts towards an opposite outcome. What wad done was done. It simply could not be undone.

I kept trying to convince myself of the insignificance. That compassionate bitch, always looking at the world through eyes full of love despite the encroaching darkness and shackles pinning her still against the sting of unwelcome. Even for me, I could tell she held empathy, and not to save her own life, but to help me live the best life I could. We both knew that we wouldn't both survive the flux, but unlike me, she wasn't afraid. Perhaps it was more than her perogative to be so stoic and kind, perhaps it was her job.

I kept trying to convince myself of the insignificance. I kept trying to remain indignant. I didn't push her, but I refused to hold her back from danger. One life, a tiny ripple across time, effacing the negative space with decorative gestures and long ponderances. Surely, in the realm of the infinite, it held no meaning. No purpose could matter. This death, neither right nor wrong, would be truly insignificant.

I kept trying to convince myself of the insignicance. Then, I unintentionally began drawing the lots with which to lay the foundation of my failure. One life, sure, might be a speck; a tiny ripple. However, I looked upon the horizon and realized I stood atop specks that, grouped together, seemed to be larger than the rock upon which they tread. I was riding forth with furious energy upon the tidal wave each ripple helped construct.

I keep trying to convince myself of the insignificance, and then i realize that I have broken a chain of events that has progressed for almost one-third of the entire lifetime of the universe that allows it. Who or what among any of us or anything would be the same missing some one-third? Where would the hills and valleys be without the dirt that shaped their image? Where would any grain of sand go back or forth without the waves that rolled them out of the chaotic sediment?

To lose any part of that one-third is to lose the catalyst that would bring it forth to growing into one half, and eventually, effectively, one whole. That, and that alone, is of significance with incalculable consequence. It is with incalculable loss. Remove the specks from the pile, and once theyre gonw, all that is left is whatever space there once was between them, and that space is nothing. Remove the ripples from the wave, and all that is left is water so stagnant that within which organics will no longer grow and inorganics will no longer break down into something more or less.

I am convinced of the significance of this beautiful creature's death; an exile most foul. Forced from land and country, soul and body, mind and self, there is no refuge left for the dead. It is why I have to convince myself now: I didnt push her. What's more is having not kept her from harm is excusable in light of not having pushed her into it. This is much more difficult to ssy convincingly, because now that I am the hill, now that i am the wave, I no longer have that sense of scale with which to pretend I would need a telescope to spot meaning.

It is right there in front of me.

She is right there in front of me.

Meaning stares back at me with blood filled eyes and a chest that no longer pulls in breath.

I stare back and know I am a murderer after all, and no amount of ponderance can keep me from knowing what crime I have perpetrated upon so much of the universe unfortunate enough to have me.

[nuoyi-writes]

In which a certain blue-blooded dragon holds your heart, but the crimson red markings on your skin hold you back.

➪ Pairing: Winwin x fm!reader ➪ Word Count: 2.5k ➪ Genre & AU: angst, fluff, fantasy, hint of enemies-to-lovers, business executive!winwin, business executive!reader, magical creature!winwin, magical creature!reader ➪ Warnings: daggers, physical violence, blood, partial nudity, kissing, making out ➪ Note: loosely based on the webtoon Subzero, this fic is for @/naptaemed’s winwin collab Casting Call !! (i signed up for business executive but i ended up leaning more towards magical creature, forgive me jackie) titles are not my forte so pls excuse me. I hope you enjoy :>

“In my opinion, Mr. Huang’s proposal has the most potential.”

Your heels click against the hollow floor of the lift when you enter. The doors close and through its reflecting surface, you see an office worker behind you. Sicheng shakes his head in disagreement making you internally groan.

“Mr. Huang’s proposal has too many unpredictable factors in play. On the other hand, Ms. Ning’s idea is stable and works smoothly.”

You’re about to refute with an argument of your own when your senses pick up ill intent from the man behind you, and you understand from Sicheng’s hardened gaze that he senses it too. Through the mirror in front of you, you see the man’s eyes glow orange. He flicks a dagger at the emergency stop button and the lift comes to a halt.

Fox.

Sicheng’s irises turn bright blue, outlines of the scales under his skin glowing and decorating his eyelids. The fox isn’t surprised by Sicheng revealing his half form, this is an assassination attempt of the said blue dragon, but finds himself rather entertained when he spots the appearance of your own set of glowing red scales and irises.

“A crimson and an azure together? I wonder if your blood know,” he snickers, pulling out an enchanted dagger and lunging at Sicheng. You grab his wrist before he gets to him and let fire flow through your palms, forcing the fox to drop his weapon. Sicheng takes advantage of this moment of weakness and punches him square in the jaw, making him drop to the floor.

“Who sent you?” Your tone is filled with anger, and the fox responds with an amused grin.

“You did.”

You let out a low growl, your insides roaring in fury of such an accusation, and you’re about to engulf half his body in flames but Sicheng stops you with a hand on your shoulder, the coldness emanating from him calming you down.

“Who sent you?” Sicheng barks, his attention back on the perpetrator on the floor of the lift, but receives no answer. You muster all your strength and kick at the fox’s ribs, and when he rolls on his side in pain, you turn him onto his stomach and press your knee against his spine, grabbing his wrists and pulling his arms back.

“The Crimson Dragons,” he grunts in pain.

Panic flashes through your eyes and your grip on him falters at his answer, letting him break free. He reaches for the dagger previously discarded on the floor and attempts to stab you with it but you lean back in time, instead leaving a deep gash across your side and waist. At this, Sicheng loses all will to stick to law and captures the fox’s entire body in ice. You relax at the fox no longer being a threat, squeezing your eyes shut at the pain, your breathing ragged.

“Are you okay?” he kneels beside you as you clutch at your waist, blood seeping out through your blouse and onto your palm.

“It’s healing, but it hurts like a bitch,” you groan. He hovers his palm above your own, sending waves of cold air to numb the wound.

With his free hand, Sicheng pulls out the dagger from the lift push button board, causing the lift to start moving again.

“Yuta will be here, he’s in my office and he most likely sensed what happened. He’ll take care of the fox and the security footage, but that,” he points at your blood-stained blouse before continuing. “is something we need to hide.”

You motion for him to take off his dark blue coat and upon understanding, he slides it off, helping you into it while carefully avoiding skin contact.

“They’re probably going to think we’re dating though,” he suppresses a smile when you snort.

The lift door opens and Sicheng promptly unfreezes the fox. Yuta gives his boss a reassuring pat on the back before carrying the unconscious man out, and Sicheng helps you to his office.

“She’s not feeling well, don’t let anyone in until I give permission,” he informs the employee nearest to his office door before closing it.

The moment Sicheng has his blinds down, you plop on the couch and pull your hand out from under the coat, watching and wiggling your blood-stained fingers. You can tell the wound is already almost fully healed even though the pain hasn’t subsided one bit.

“It must be some sort of pain inducing enchantment,” he says as he makes his way to his desk. “I keep a few antidotes in my office for situations like these”

Situations like these.

“Let me,” he offers with the first aid kit in his hand. You avert your eyes, guilt boiling in your stomach.

Slipping off his coat and shuffling in your seat, you face away from him when he takes a seat on the couch. He takes your actions as an affirmation and helps you out of your blouse, dragon markings on your back in full view. You feel his stare on your skin, shivers running down your spine.

“Crimson red,” he mutters in awe. You squeeze your eyes shut, tearing up at his words and the weight they carry when coming from him.

“Sicheng you really don’t have to-”

“Brace yourself,” he cuts you off with a short warning before his antidote-smeared fingers come in contact with your skin. Your markings glow and sizzle, sending waves of adrenaline through your body, and your blood screams at you to rip the dragon behind you to shreds.

The first and last time you felt this was 3 years ago, when your fingers accidentally brushed against his during an innocent exchange of documents and just like your ancestors would describe it, the unadulterated rage that flowed through your blood as your inner dragon growled and clawed at your insides, begging to be unleashed, was nearly uncontrollable. Yet, when you looked at the target of your blood thirst, you realised he was trying just as hard as you to control himself.

With that, hundreds of years worth of ancestral rivalry that flowed through your blood fizzled out when you saw him not as an azure dragon, but as Dong Sicheng, the man you loved and  pined over for all the years you had known him for. You were instead overcome by fear; fear of having to face him in war, fear of losing him to war, and fear of being viewed as nothing more than the blood of your ancestors, so you dashed out of your office, dodging his attempt to hold you back and ignoring his calls. The next day, Sicheng surprises you by showing up at your office with a marketing file.

“Next meeting on Thursday. Be sure to have your share of the work done by then,” he said before infuriating you with his usual taunting smile, one that made you rush down to the 6th floor and throw the entire marketing department into chaos by preponing the deadline to two whole days prior to the meeting as soon as he left your building.

The two of you fell back into your routine squabbles, never bringing up your bloodlines or the thousand year old rivalry between your clans, and forever avoiding any possible skin contact.

Today’s incident shattered the bubble the two of you chose to hide in making you realise that you can’t keep playing this game of hide and don’t seek anymore. The responsibility the two of you hold as members of your respective head families, to satisfy your clans and play your part in the feud, is heavy. The consequences of disobeying can be dire.

“The fox is going to spill,” Sicheng breaks your train of thought, his voice careful. Your usually loud self has been silent for too long and it’s making him anxious. He hopes you don’t decide anything without talking it out with him, although a part of him already knows you’re too stubborn for that.

He motions for you to turn around, and your cheeks heat up at having to face him in only your bra. Sensing your nervousness, he hands you his coat and you loosely throw it around your neck, covering your chest while letting him continue treating the front part of your waist. You settle on observing his concentrated state, your heart pounding from the amount of raw affection he’s letting himself show.

“Yeah, he’s definitely going to tell.” Tell your families.

It was selfish of you to not shut him out after finding out. It was selfish to pretend there exists nothing more than friendship between the two of you.

You know Sicheng is done when you no longer feel any pain in your fully healed wound. He looks up at you, his eyes no longer concealing his desire to claim you his, and you decide to take advantage of the intimate moment to finish things once and for all.

“Azure,” you pause when you realise you startled him by calling him by his bloodline. Pushing back the tears clogging your throat, you force yourself to continue. “Can I see your marks?”

Sicheng spends a moment trying to read you before nodding, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping out of it. His dragon is spread across his back and chest and stomach, and is a shade darker than when he uses his magic. You hover your fingers above the alluring markings before delicately placing your fingertip on his skin.

Hate me.

His marks don’t glow, more of your fingers land on his skin.

Push me away.

You find yourself slightly trembling when his marks still don’t glow. You place your entire palm on his chest, and Sicheng wretchedly ascertains your decision.

Let go, you’re making this harder for me.

Tears are flowing down your cheeks freely, but you harden your gaze. You think you see fear flash in his eyes but he makes no other indication of such an emotion, not budging from his position. You release flames from the tip of your index, burning his skin and making him wince, but not once do you sense his inner dragon surge.

“How?” your eyes flutter to meet him, your voice quavering. Sicheng's gaze is determined as he slips his hand in yours and holds your palm tight, making your markings glow brighter.

“Let go,” he whispers before pulling you closer by your hand. He presses his lips to yours, pausing and giving you time to push him back, and when you don’t, he proceeds with kissing you.

“I-”

“Let go” he murmurs against your lips, before pushing forward, forcing you to fall back onto the couch as the coat slips off you. He hovers over you, kisses fast-paced and aggressive and pained. You slide your arms around his neck, squeezing your eyes shut and pulling him closer to you, craving the feeling of his body on yours. His lips eventually trace down your jawline to your collarbone, nibbling at every piece of skin on the way and making you dizzy. You whimper, fingers tugging at his hair when you’re pushed further into the couch, heart weeping and bleeding and dancing among the stars.

“Sicheng we really can’t-”

Moving back up, he softly tugs at your lip, effectively cutting you off.

“I love you.”

Tears spill from your eyes as you try to look at anything but him, wishing you could unhear. Your insides are thrown into turmoil, caught between anger and the pure want to discard all rationality and give into what you two have.

“Don’t,” you plead.

His palms settle on the sides of your neck, and with soft pressure from his thumbs, he turns your head to face him. His eyes are vulnerable.

“I love you,” he says again, gentler. You whimper as you lift your head and capture his lips, pulling him back down with you. You kiss him harder, desperate to wash his words away and to never forget the feeling of his lips on yours. Sicheng signs into the kiss, tucking his knees between your legs as he builds courage to ask.

“Do you love me?”

Panting softly, you swallow the tears in your throat.

You love him. You’ve loved him for years before you found out, and you loved him for years after because to you, he has always, always, been just Dong Sicheng.

To say that to him, what would it mean for the two of you? Your clans would never be able to understand traitors of the thousand year old war between your ancestors. Your blood and markings are unforgiving-

Your markings?

Sliding your fingers over them, you realise they’re no longer glowing, your dragon dormant. You’re confused, but when you meet his anxious yet knowing gaze, everything clicks together like a puzzle.

Sicheng meant not for you to let loose of your dragon, but of your emotions. He meant for you to let your feelings for him take control, and you feel feather light at the realisation.

“Yes.”

The burden on your heart dispels when you stop hiding the one truth that had always been the answer. You only wonder why you hadn’t done it sooner.

“I love you.”

A relieved smile sprouts on Sicheng’s face, and your heart thumps loudly in growing excitement.

“I love you.”, you confess again, pecking his forehead.

“I love you.” peck. “I love you.” peck. Your heart grows lighter with every confession you kiss onto his skin. Releasing a long breath, he rests his head on your collarbone, nose brushing against your skin.

“I was so scared you wouldn’t– I was scared you’d think it wouldn’t mean anything– I just didn't know how to tell you,” he softly admits. You tug him closer to you, resting your chin on his head.

“Us being able to suppress our dragons is a miracle.” You’re in disbelief at the fact that you can hold Sicheng in your arms like this without the adrenaline rush or your blood boiling.

“If we can defy our markings, who is to say we can’t survive the wrath of our clans?”

He hums in contentment, the vibrations from his voice reaching your chest.

Someone forces open the office door and the sound has you instinctively pushing the dragon off of you. He doesn’t budge, instead slapping his fingers over your mouth.

“Dong Sicheng~?”

The backrest of the couch hides you from Yuta’s view. A few seconds later, you hear an employee rush behind him, apologising out loud before pulling him out and closing the door. The two of you hear Yuta throw his usual tantrum at the employees outside, demanding to be let in because he and Sicheng are practically closer than lovers.

“Should I be concerned?”, you raise your brow. Sicheng snorts at your teasing, tucking himself between the couch and you and draping an arm over your waist. You turn your head to face him, your nose bumping into his making you chuckle, and you meet his reassuring gaze.

You think you can get through this if you have him by your side.

© 2021, nuoyi-writes. All rights reserved.

[dialux]

Finwëans: The First Generation

1/7

The five children of Finwë were responsible for many of the greatest and fellest deeds of Arda.

Fëanáro, the eldest, was the only one born of Finwë’s first wife, Miriel. Raised by his father and resentful of his father’s second wife, Fëanáro had little love for the Valar that dissolved his father’s marriage. He was a renowned smith and an influential leader in Aman. When Morgoth attacked Fëanáro’s stronghold, killed Finwë, and stole Fëanáro’s finest inventions—three jewels called Silmarils—Fëanáro swore vengeance alongside his seven sons. He perpetrated the first Kinslaying at Alqualondë when the Teleri refused to lend him their swan-ships and burned the boats upon arriving in Beleriand. Though he broke the siege upon Balar that Morgoth’s armies had lain, Fëanáro underestimated the strength of his forces and was surrounded by balrogs. He died surrounded by his sons from his wounds.

Findis, Finwë’s second child and first daughter, was also his first child with Indis. Renowned for her song, Findis was said to have driven three Masters to Lorien with her Mastery Song. When Finwë died she sang a song so mournful and heartbreaking it rang through all of Valinor, striking grief in the hearts of even the Valar. She ruled the Noldor for a brief period of time after her siblings all left but abandoned the throne when Arafinwë returned in favor of following her mother to Valmar. Findis disappeared into the wild western forests of Valinor when she heard of her half-brother’s death and stayed there for many long Ages, isolated from everyone, for fear that her fury and grief could do what not even Morgoth achieved and shatter the power of the Valar.

The strongest of Finwë’s children, Nolofinwë was also the First High King of the Noldor in Beleriand. Estranged from his half-brother, Fëanáro, Nolofinwë took up the kingship after Fëanáro was banished from Tirion for breaking the peace. They reconciled when Morgoth killed their father, but Fëanáro abandoned Nolofinwë after the First Kinslaying and burned the boats upon reaching Beleriand. Furious and refusing to abandon vengeance, Nolofinwë led his people across the Helcaraxë. They suffered great losses along the way but eventually reached Beleriand, only to hear of Fëanáro’s death and Fëanáro’s eldest son’s—Maedhros’—imprisonment. Nolofinwë’s son, Findekáno, rescued Maedhros, and in gratitude, Maedhros surrendered the crown to Nolofinwë. Over the next four centuries, Nolofinwë led the efforts of the Noldor against Morgoth. But the immense casualties of the Dagor Bragollach led Nolofinwë to great despair. He abandoned Hithlum and rode north to Angband, shining and wrathful as Oromë himself, and mocked Morgoth’s bravery and strength until Morgoth answered his challenge for single combat. He dealt Morgoth seven wounds, the last of which caused Morgoth to limp for the rest of his life, before dying himself.

Lalwen, Finwë’s second and youngest daughter, was the longest-lived of all his children that came to Beleriand. She was a cheerful, uncomplicated child, best known in Tirion for the number of betrothals she’d called off over the years. She never chose a Mastery despite the exhortations of her parents, instead preferring to dabble in a little bit of every skill. This served her well in Beleriand, for Lalwen had the flexibility to attack Morgoth’s armies with every weapon under the newly-risen Sun and many that no other would have considered a weapon. The only one of her siblings to never wear a crown, Lalwen preferred to do her activities from the shadows—she became her brother Nolofinwë’s most trusted advisor and spymaster in Beleriand. She won the name Black-Toothed Bitch from the orcs because of the blood staining her teeth. Her laughter—forever loud and lingering—was said to strike fear in even dragons’ hearts. Eventually, Lalwen wedded a Sindarin general during the Long Peace; it was more a marriage of convenience than one of love, and they separated during the Dagor Bragollach, never to reunite. After Nolofinwë died, Lalwen went south and founded the Havens of Sirion. She spent the last years of the First Age guiding the remnants of the Haladin to what would eventually become Dale. Upon her return to Beleriand, Eonwë asked her to return to Aman, but Lalwen refused and instead went north: to where the last dragons and balrogs still lived. She spent nearly six thousand years slaughtering them before finally falling to the last dragon’s claws, a small, gold-obsessed fire drake named Smaug.

The youngest of them all, Arafinwë was also the longest-ruling child of Finwë. He inherited the throne of the Noldor in Aman from his brother, Fëanáro, when he sailed to Beleriand, and spent long years working to reconcile the Noldor with the Teleri after the First Kinslaying. When his kinsmen Eärendil and Elwing sailed to Tirion, Arafinwë accompanied them to Ilmarin and joined his pleas to theirs to save Beleriand. He led the Noldor in the War of Wrath. While Tulkas was the one to strive with his strength against Morgoth and Eonwë eventually stripped him of the Silmarils, it was Arafinwë that held a spear to Morgoth’s throat, and finally—after the death of nearly all his family—claimed the War of the Elves and Morgoth finished. He then returned to Aman with the remnants of the Noldorin forces, and ruled them until the beginning of the Dagor Dagorath, at which point his brothers returned to life.

[iheartbookbran]

Hey, asoiaf fandom, quick question here but am I the only one who gets deeply uncomfortable by the tone of the discussions surrounding Arya and her relationship with traditional gender roles/feminity? Not only because of the wrong assumptions a lot of people have about Arya looking down on traditional feminine activities like sewing, which she most definitely doesn’t, but also because there’s very glaring inherent classism in those claims.

Not only has Arya (that is, book Arya) never looked down on other women or the work that historically has been associated with them, but she has also partaked in said work herself.

Several times, in fact, and across numerous of her POV chapters:

Whatever names Harren the Black had meant to give his towers were long forgotten. (...) Arya slept in a shallow niche in the cavernous vaults beneath the Wailing Tower, on a bed of straw. She had water to wash in whenever she liked, a chunk of soap. The work was hard, but no harder than walking miles every day. Weasel did not need to find worms and bugs to eat, as Arry had; there was bread every day, and barley stews with bits of carrot and turnip, and once a fortnight even a bite of meat.—aCoK, Arya VII.

Weese used Arya to run messages, draw water, and fetch food, and sometimes to serve at table in the Barracks Hall above the armory, where the men-at-arms took their meals. But most of her work was cleaning. The ground floor of the Wailing Tower was given over to storerooms and granaries, and two floors above housed part of the garrison, but the upper stories had not been occupied for eighty years. Now Lord Tywin had commanded that they be made fit for habitation again. There were floors to be scrubbed, grime to be washed off windows, broken chairs and rotted beds to be carried off. The topmost story was infested with nests of the huge black bats that House Whent had used for its sigil, and there were rats in the cellars as well . . . and ghosts, some said, the spirits of Harren the Black and his sons.—aCoK, Arya VII.

"I saw you looking at me." Weese wiped his fingers on the front of her shift. Then he grabbed her throat with one hand and slapped her with the other. "What did I tell you?" He slapped her again, backhand. "Keep those eyes to yourself, or next time I'll spoon one out and feed it to my bitch." A shove sent her stumbling to the floor. Her hem caught on a loose nail in the splintered wooden bench and ripped as she fell. "You'll mend that before you sleep," Weese announced as he pulled the last bit of meat off the capon. When he was finished he sucked his fingers noisily, and threw the bones to his ugly spotted dog.

"Weese," Arya whispered that night as she bent over the tear in her shift. "Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling," she said, calling a name every time she pushed the bone needle through the undyed wool. "The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Gregor, Ser Amory, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei."—aCoK, Arya VII.

This last quote is interesting, because given Arya’s circumstances in which she has to hide her own identity, she’s not warranted the protection a high-born lady would usually receive, and her punishments are often not only related to physical abuse, but through forced labor as well.

She spent the next few hours tending to the lord's chambers. She swept out the old rushes and scattered fresh sweet-smelling ones, laid a fresh fire in the hearth, changed the linens and fluffed the featherbed, emptied the chamber pots down the privy shaft and scrubbed them out, carried an armload of soiled clothing to the washerwomen, and brought up a bowl of crisp autumn pears from the kitchen. When she was done with the bedchamber, she went down half a flight of stairs to do the same in the great solar, a spare drafty room as large as the halls of many a smaller castle. The candles were down to stubs, so Arya changed them out.

(...)

The afternoon was still young by the time she was done, so Arya took herself off to the godswood.—aCoK, Arya VX.

She got along well enough with the cook. Umma would slap a knife into her hand and point at an onion, and Arya would chop it. Umma would shove her toward a mound of dough, and Arya would knead it until the cook said stop (stop was the first Braavosi word she learned). Umma would hand her a fish, and Arya would bone it and fillet it and roll it in the nuts the cook was crushing. (..) Some nights Umma spiced the fish with sea salt and cracked peppercorns, or cooked the eels with chopped garlic. Once in a great while the cook would even use some saffron. Hot Pie would have liked it here, Arya thought.—aFoC, Arya II.

She had other tasks besides helping Umma. She swept the temple floors; she served and poured at meals; she sorted piles of dead men's clothing, emptied their purses, and counted out stacks of queer coins.—aFoC, Arya II.

And the reason this—hugely important, imo—part of her narrative is so often ignored by fandom discourse is very obvious to me. It is because unlike the activities traditionally performed by upper-class, rich women, which are very frequently glorified by fans (alongside other aspects of the feudalist system that honestly would take way too much time and effort to unpack, but I digress), lower class feminity is simply not as pretty, the hard labor these women would be subjected to is not aesthetically pleasing. Don’t get me wrong, they were abused by the patriarchy the same way upper-class women were, but their suffering was never romanticized or immortalized in a song, their victimhood wouldn’t be cause for outrage, and more often than not, their work and existence would be completely erased.

Arya’s feminity doesn’t cease to exist just because she has to do hard work associated with lower-class women, or because she expresses interests that differ from what is usually expected of rich women. Her experiences as a girl, being exposed to all kinds of abuse perpetrated by men can’t be simply swept under the rug. A great deal of her journey is related to how much the plight of the lower classes matters, that children like Mycah, like Layna, like Gendry and Lommy and Hot Pie and Jeyne Poole, they all matter. And yes, sometimes Arya’s Stark name has given her protection, but other times, the majority of the time, she’s not been in a position in which she can use it as shield, and she’s had to work with her hands and fight for her life and has seen and done horrible things, or else the only other option for her was to end dead on a ditch, like countless other women and children the world has deemed too unimportant to mourn.

[raymondebidochonlifechoices]

All fans are equal but some are more equal than others. NOT.

There’s been quite a few people in the fandom lately getting very stressed, feeling they’re obligated to constantly be on the defensive re: their fandom choices.

Apparently, whoever has a different opinion about a character or a ship must be said character’s/ship’s stan i.e. overzealous and/or obsessive, i.e. not an objective viewer. Even worse, they must be a dreadful person, who condones a number of moral offences that said character/ship perpetrated (or is thought to have perpetrated). Because, of course, the only acceptable reason for appreciating/enjoying a fictional character or dynamic is their morality. And, by that reasoning, fans who support the correct character/ship must be better fans and better people.

Nothing is more ridiculous than the notion of the objective fan. An “objective” fan is called a “viewer”. You and I, Riverdale friends, we are not just viewers. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have created blogs and dedicated hours of our lives to a fictional couple from an extremely mediocre show. We are still undoubtedly capable of critical thought and objective analysis but we are also aware of our own emotional investment in the show. (Or, at least, one hopes). As a fandom, we engage in activities that exist independently of the show. Fandom is a space of free expression. No one gets to play the higher moral card here. Needing to loudly tell everybody how wrong they are? That’s not the sign of an objective viewer. That’s the sign of a viewer who is also extremely invested, just for different reasons than I am.

Are we seriously holding the morality card over people’s heads for a show that used a poc woman’s pregnancy (Toni) as the means to retroactively establish trauma for a white male (Kevin), all the while touting it in every media possible as a woke response to the BLM movement?!

Are we seriously holding the canon card over people’s heads for a show that treats its 5th(!) season as a tabula rasa?! If the Lodges new backstory in 5x12 shows anything, it’s that s5 is not a time-jump. It’s a reboot.

There are so many people “enlightening” others on their inability to understand canon …

Seriously? That’s the hill you’re willing to die on? Canon Riverdale? You think that people don’t understand what they’re watching? That they’re interpreting canon incorrectly?

No, but seriously: canon for a TV show consists of what the characters say, what the characters do and how the actors portray them. Does this really apply to Riverdale?

Let’s take Donna for example.

Canon explicitly tells us Donna did what she did to avenge her grandmother. At the same time none of her canon actions were against the people who were actually responsible. So, riddle me this, fandom friends: why did Donna do what she did, as per canon?

Let’s try this another way:

Donna is a psycho bitch. Both in terms of Riverdale’s canon (the writers’ intention) and real-life criteria. To create a tag that reads “Bonna for ever uwu!” is deranged.

On the other hand, her character is (like a lot of Riverdale’s characters) an inconsistent caricature. Canon uses ridiculous dialogue and a lot of the Bonna scenes are cartoonishly enemies-to-lovers tropey. To create a tag that reads “Bonna for ever uwu!” is hilarious.

This doesn’t mean that Bonna is a canon couple. It does mean, however, that a Bonna crackship is based on Riverdale’s campy and over-the-top canonic writing.

A viewer who thinks Bonna is disgusting is not more “objective” or more “correct” or more “true to canon” than a viewer who thinks Bonna is funny. Nor are they a better person for it, and this cannot be stressed enough.

Similarly, who is canon Cheryl?

1. Cheryl is an absolute bitch: if a privileged student was calling an actual homeless boy a hobo in your real-life school, you would neither think her a queen nor use “hobo” affectionately in your tags, comments etc.

2. Cheryl is a deeply traumatized person: her father killed her brother, her mother killed half the town and forced her in conversion therapy, she attempted suicide and more.

(Note #1: this more does not mean more than the other Riverdale characters).

(Note #2: nor is it an excuse for her rudeness, affectionately called “mood for chaos” by the writers).

3. Cheryl is also a caricature of the archetypal mean girl who’s there for laughs and meta comments. She’s not to be taken seriously.

4. Cheryl is lgbtq+ representation …

5. … who canonically shits on other lgbtq+ characters.

6. Cheryl is one half of Choni, who are canonically presented as an uber couple.

7. Choni is also, as per canon, a couple with an acute power imbalance (cough!gaslighting!cough) that visually very clearly panders to the male gaze.

But most importantly:

8. Cheryl canonically is not the sum of her parts. The different facets of her character do not intermingle in any meaningful way.

Was Betty kissing Archie specifically a sore spot for Jughead?

Canonically no [2x14]. But, also, canonically yes [5x03, 5x10].

Are there seriously fans that are astonished that Betty is making some highly questionable choices while investigating?! Did they just discover Dark™Betty/Killer Genes Betty? That is canon Betty! Was it ok before because she was then smooching Jughead instead of giving him the cold shoulder? Honestly, the only newly outrageous part of s5Dark™Betty is the fact that she still believes in “killer genes” despite having spent 4 years at Yale …

As for liking/disliking Betty and morality …

Look, I’m going to be very honest: I am NOT particularly enjoying s5 Betty. And it’s not because of b*rchie.

S5 Betty has 99 problems but the sexcapades ain’t one.

For me, it’s the fact that she’s turned into s1 Alice 2.0. But surely that’s not news either? Ever since the first info about the time jump, everyone and their mother have been speculating about the teens becoming their parents …

Just because Jughead is better written (and written to be more likable), it doesn’t make him more worthy of redemption. Just because the writers are keeping Betty’s redemption “secret” (insert eye roll) for their big reveal in the season’s penultimate episode, it doesn’t mean she won’t have one.  

Simply put, the writers have made Jughead more likable. He’s still the underdog. He’s the only character in Riverdale actively trying to deal with his trauma, since the very first post-time jump episode (working at Pop’s explicitly to fend off the debt collectors). He has scenes with a new and extremely likable character (Tabitha). He has the only new plot line (the Mothman). Said plotline is narratively already tied to both his unknown past and the town’s destruction by Hiram. His behaviour is explicitly explained, even as his recent trauma remains unknown. He’s transparent.

In comparison, s5 Betty is traumatized but not the underdog. Her trauma (TBK killer) is both known to us and a repetition of previous storylines, which makes it narratively less exciting. She is completely disconnected from any other storylines. She comes out as being judgmental and self-interested: telling Tabitha Jughead’s not her business while previously accepting his help? Berating Polly for lying while not keeping in touch and lying about her own life (TBK)? Please note: I’m not saying there isn’t a reason behind her behaviour, just that it comes out in a negative way.

You don’t like Betty’s current behaviour? You don’t consider trauma a good enough excuse? Cool.

You feel sorry for what she’s going through? You consider trauma to be a valid explanation for her behaviour? Also cool.

Personally, I don’t give a flying fig, either for Betty’s trauma or Jughead’s. Because, even though Trauma™ is s5’s actual mystery plot, narratively speaking, trauma never affected the plot of the past 4 seasons, nor s5 trauma will affect future plots, once revealed. And you know what? That is also cool.

None of the above is better.

And just because I’m not enjoying Betty right now, it doesn’t mean that I don’t want her to overcome her current situation or that I won’t cheer for Bughead like a River Vixen on fizzle rocks, once they reunite.

This thing though, where people are made to feel as if they owed anyone in the fandom an explanation about why they like the things they like, because, somehow, their preferences are a reflection on their character or their cognitive abilities to read a TV show? This is a joke.

There is no “wrong” way to consume any show, let alone Riverdale, with its fractured format, its short-term memory and its see-sawing characters.

Look, everybody’s here for their own reasons. For most people this is a place of escape. No one’s escaping better than the other, because of how they enjoy their teen TV show ... 

[what-big-teeth]

Thoughts on Death Mark

So as promised, here are my thoughts about Spirit Hunter: Death Mark. Due to spoilers, everything of import is after the cut.

So first off, the art for this game is immaculate. Seriously, there’s a beauty mixed in with the horror shown through the scenes and imagery. 

Honestly, this is just *chef’s kiss*. Amazing, spectacular, stupendous, [insert like adjectives here]! It’s very immersive and makes the atmosphere and greatly adds to the story. Kudos to Aksys Games for picking out the right artist!

So the first chapter with Hanahiko did not pull any punches. More so when I found out at the end that the Principal managed to escape retribution. Which, yes, harkens to real life crimes and how the perpetrators get away. But I’d rather imagine he met a horrible fate while attempting to skip town. Let’s say some rose vines ended up eviscerated him.

I wasn’t really scared during the first chapter. Disturbed, concerned, creeped out, yes. Even when facing off with Hanahiko, I only felt sympathy towards him. Even though he did end up killing the staff (and those connected to them) who ignored the signs of his abuse. 

However. 

I will say that the “fanservice” (can it really be called that?) is a bit much. Yes, horror and sex have been partnered time and time again due to the genre addressing the “taboo” of sex, but there’s enough and too much. And sadly, Death Mark does the latter.

With the above image of who I think is Saya Kujou, that’s tasteful all things considered. It does look like the given description of someone having plants burst forth from their body and the damage of such. But the sudden vision Yashiki is given when in the underground bunker of the one female teacher was...eh. The sight took me out of the game’s immersion immediately, as did the image of poor Moe strung up to the school ceiling.

But I think the latter was somewhat justified in that Hanahiko stole her uniform because it reminded him of the skirts he wore while alive? Maybe? It honestly wasn’t too clear, but that’s what I’m going with.

And now, with chapter two, I’m seeing the “fanservice” continue with the...drill-pierced corpse of a woman acting as a beehive. 

I’m all for fanservice, but can I get some impartiality? Why not a male teacher being dealt with in a compromising position in the underground bunker? Yes, the game is set in the 90s, but I’m sure male teachers were a thing back then in Japan. Why not have Mashita (grown man) strung up instead of Moe (underaged high schooler)?

I’m pretty sure the “fanservice” aspect will continue with this first part of the series. And it isn’t enough to drive me away from the game in general. But I’m hoping the second game tones it down a bit. 

And as for Mary...

If Child’s Play taught me anything as an underage kid who was forced to watch it by her jackass of an older half-brother, it was to never trust those porcelain/plastic bitches.

[goineedsleep]

i am cursed, and also delusional

i got sick recently(not covid, i am a fully vaccinated bitch), so i'm writing this on caffeine and pain

i hope you enjoy the shitshow

-trials of octopath is todays awful fusion idea

-for those of you unaware of trials of manas existence, it's a lot like octopath(and vice versa). trials is a game where you pick 3 characters out of 6 possible options to play as, and the story changes drastically depending on who's in your party. im' gonna have to cut a couple of the octopaths to fit this AU, but i'll be putting them elsewhere- you'll see them eventually

-i'm not even getting into story pairs! every two characters in trials of mana has the same final boss. if you put two characters together who have the same story(say, the fighter/duran or the mage/angela), it gives more information on those characters and their shared story.

-we have olberic the fighter(replacing duran) first. after an invasion of his home, he trusts erhardt with protecting it while he chases after the perpetrator

-then there's cyrus the mage(replacing angela)- he is the prestiged son of a famed scholar. he cannot use the same powerful magic his father could, and thus is chosen to be executed by him. cyrus unleashes enough magical power to teleport out of that situation(this happens in-game), and runs away to seek guidance from the Archbishop of the Church of the Sacred Flame.

-now we have therion the thief. he is a close friend of the leader of the Thieves Guild of the Ravuses, a man known as Heathcote. Darius, an "old friend " of his, saved Heathcotes life from being missing. this results in Heathcote acting very weird from the day he returns- at least, if you ask therion. Heathcote has never expressed the want to start a nation and invade another country until now! he gets help from Heathcotes son, the doctor of their group, to find out what's going on with Heathcote. It turns out... that Darius is using mind control to manipulate Heathcote to follow his bidding. man come on therion was just starting to not punch you in the face every night just when you were about to fall asleep again

-Darius uses dark magic to seal Alfyn away to another realm, and frames Therion for the kidnapping. Therion can't tell the truth about the situation either or kill Darius- Cordelia, Alfyns little sister, will die as well if he even dares due to a cursed article of clothing given to her by Darius.

-luckily for him, Tressa has mercy on him a couple months later and breaks him out of jail. therion decides to investigate the curse in order to find out how to stab Darius in the most affective way imaginable. Also to save Cordelia, but that isn't his priority at the moment

-now we have the warrior princess Primrose

-she's the captain of the woman-led guard of the country of Azelhart

-her mother died during childbirth whilst giving birth to her little sister tressa, and so she decided to take care of her to the best of her ability. her father is very proud of her for taking charge like this, but he still is the parent in this version. he is the one that technically raised tressa since I do not want to force primrose to parent someone when she's like 6

-primrose was just a dedicated babysitter

-she wants tressa to practice her dancing, and when she finds her she's being held at knifepoint by 2 thieves. the barrier protecting Azelhart from enemy forces is broken, tressa is kidnapped, and -Azelhart is no more. Now Primrose is no princess or noble- she's just Primrose

-She goes to the Priest of Light so she can pray for forgiveness from Aelfric before she kills all of the Ravus thieves guild

-H'aanit is the princess of the werewolves. they've been oppressed and marginalized by humans for years, so they've taken up the forest as their home. she's a hunter like most of them are, yet she's never been able to harness the power of her bloodline: it may be due to her being half-human, but she's never been capable of transforming into a beast like her brethren.

-she meets the snow leopard Linde in front of her dead mothers corpse, and starts feeding it

-she has a new pet now -linde and herself work together and they sometimes do better than full-blooded werewolves when they work together

-Z'aanta forms an alliance with Mattias, a man who's worked with the Church of the Sacred Flame a million times -immediately following the forming of this alliance Linde attempts to kill H'aanit -H'aanit doesn't wish to hurt her friend, but she has no choice: she turns into a werewolf for the first time in her life and loses control of her thoughts in her despair

-oh welp the cat's dead(I'M SO SORRY LINDE YOU ARE A VERY GOOD KITTY) -H'aanit heads back home to cry for a minute... then she overhears Mattias admitting that he killed her cat -H'aanit attempts to attack him, and then gets yeeted to Jadd -good job ham, you complete and utter pokemon trainer

-last up, we've got ophilia -she's the adoptive daughter of the Archbishop of the Sacred Flame -she hears Lianna's gonna be going somewhere, she gets an awful vision of Lianna never being seen again following this mission, and goes with her in secret -Lianna gets kidnapped regardless by Mattias -so ophilia decides to find this guy and punch him in the face

-alright that's all of the character backstories

-THANK GOD

-all of these people(save alfyn and tressa, who is being held hostage by the ravus thieves guild) go to jadd first- h'aanit is yeeted there by mattias

-h'aanit notices that her people are invading this town and will be invading Flamesgrace- her next goal is to stop this -olberic wants to stop this as well, so he and h'aanit team up first

-Primrose looks for Tressa in some desperate search, and meets Cyrus during this search. they decide to journey together to Wendel, figuring going together would be better than being alone -they think it's a dumb idea to fight the beastmen, so they decide to escape at night like the bartender suggested

-ophilia finds therion at the bar while looking for food, and overhears his story while she eats soup and bread -she leads him to Wendel, wanting to do help another adventurer before she goes off into the unknown herself

-olberic and h'aanit free the town from beastmen and go to the cavern that leads to flamesgrace(which i am going to keep calling Wendel on accident because that's what it is in trials, srry) -they get there and there's a barrier -archbishop put it up to protect them from the beastmen, and then h'aanit and olberic find the lakeside town of astoria -the villagers keep mentioning how a divine light has started appearing in the area, and olberic shrugs it off and takes a very long nap. the poor man is very tired -ophilia and therion head there as well and follow the light to where it falls- ophilia touches this flame and has to fight a giant robot w/ therion -they win, and ophilia doesn't see it anymore -she shrugs and heads back to astoria, where beastmen have wrecked the town. it is g o n e -ophilia holds a memorial service for them, where she tells therion about how she's a cleric of the Sacred Flame -therion shrugs and suggests they keep going. they don't have much time before it's day and the beastmen attempt to attack Flamesgrace, too

-h'aanit, olberic, cyrus and primrose are having a picnic at the barrier when ophilia and therion arrive -ophilia attempts charging into the barrier, and then it sets on fire and they can all go through -after a long and awkward icebreaker, they all decide to travel together. it's pretty dangerous out there anyways, with the beastmen attacking and atlasdams rumored invasion of Hornburg. the ravus nation is also a major worry, therion reminds them, but they arent' gonna be in the area for a while

-these guys make it to flamesgrace to receive advice on what's coming next -olberic is told to become stronger before challenging atlasdam, and not to do so alone. he continues being in the group due to this -cyrus is told to learn how to understand his emotions- magic is not the forms they teach at school, but rather what comes from the heart. he decides to accompany the travelers so he can escape imprisonment by atlasdam forces -therion first learns of how the dimension Alfyn's been tossed into is inaccessible by humans. it is the birthplace of galdera, and is a realm of which sinners reside after they've lived their lives. Alfyn is probably not going to last very long in this realm- he's as good as dead -therion is then told of how ancient and deadly of a magic the cursed choker is, and that darius is not human. what he is is a mystery, and to save cordelia he must find the sword of aelfric. he cannot save alfyn, so he may as well save his sister -primrose is advised to find her sister and that if she chooses to destroy the ravus nation, aelfric will not support her actions, though they are understandable. if she finds the Sword of Aelfric, she may gain the power she needs to destroy the Ravus nation. -h'aanit is told that Linde will live on through her, and that Mattias is a warlock of Galderas. he has been rejected by the Order of the Sacred Flame as a result, though he does lie very affectively. to save the Kingdom of S'warkii, she must take down Mattias. and since mattias is going after the Sword of Aelfric she may as well accompany Ophilia and make Mattias's efforts worth nothing at all -ophilia is told to find Lianna, since she has been chosen by the Ember. she is now the only person who can rise the Sword of Aelfric from its resting place

-the Sword of Aelfric is hidden within the Sanctuary of Aelfric, which needs an insane amount of power to be opened. normally this power can be leached from the Aelfric Stones, but doing so could let loose ancient and terrible demons. therefore, the 8 gods that reside next to these stones need to be called upon in order to open the portal to the Sanctuary. -Therion suggests going after Aelfric first, since he's the closest one to them. after that, they need to find someone who knows where the rest of them are and also how to get there -they all agree that it's a good plan, but cyrus brings up that the Aelfric Stones each belong to a specific nation or people. going there and borrowing the gods power would be going after large civilizations that have grown around these stones -olberic suggests that they plan this out later, when they have more information and time -they all agree and go ahead to find the first of 8 gods

[sarcasmandships]

why derek hale deserves better:

derek hale’s character had so much potential to bring attention to male survivors of sexual violence, particularly when perpetrated by an older, attractive female and break away from the ‘oh but she’s hot, you’re so lucky’ (looking at u ryan murphy) trope that is disgustingly common in media but jeff davis is a weak ass bitch and just introduces a character with endless trauma but refuses to recognise or develop it??

he also has endless trauma from his family being hate crime’d to death and his surviving sister being murdered and having her body mutilated but apparently derek is unaffected with this and the only time we see him express a feeling about it is when the plot needs tension between the werewolves and the hunters??

throughout teen wolf we see examples of bodily autonomy and consent being taken away, most notably with stiles and the nogitsune and lydia being controlled by peter - but the same attention never seems to be given to derek who was taken of advantage to by kate (twice!!) so that she could burn his entire family alive and then use him to control her were-jaguar impulses - a series of events which leads to him (temporarily) losing his powers and making him feel overwhelmingly helpless and vulnerable as he becomes more human/loses a key part of his identity

tw: rape mention

not that the weird kate/derek dynamic needs to be pointed out but he was an emotionally vulnerable teenager and she was a grown woman who committed statutory rape (im not sure of derek’s age to say whether it was legally statutory rape but in my brain she took advantage of someone much younger and more naive than her and im going to consider this statutory rape from my own moral standpoint) against him whilst actively hunting people like him

even when derek is an adult the dynamic between them is toxic like when she shoots him with a wolfsbane bullet and that weird scene when she has him locked up and licks his abs? their dynamic always has derek in a vulnerable position regardless of his age, and show kate to have the upper hand, and their scenes (the scene when kate reveals werewolves to allison comes to mind again) always seem to have a degree of sexual coding like was it necessary for derek to be shirtless in that scene? no - and it was probably intended to be from more of a ‘let’s show of tyler hoechlin’s abs’ perspective but (to me personally and likely for others) it doesn’t come across that way it just shows derek again in a vulnerable position, at the hands of a woman who has taken advantage of him in the past and he is being unecessarily sexualised

not sexually motivated but he was also manipulated by his uncle (who at this time he seemed to trust) into a series of events which ended in him having to kill the girl he loves (which in turn leads to being used and manipulated by another woman years later) and the only residual impact this seems to have on him is ‘ooo he has blue eyes’, this undoubtedly puts derek in an emotionally vulnerable position which may have aided in kate being able to manipulate him but we still never see any real impact of this on derek in canon

i know he his portrayed as a private and reserved character but there was so much wasted potential here and the lack of attention given to the trauma in derek’s past really minimises the horror of it and makes it easier for the casual viewer to dismiss the impact that trauma like that would have on a person if they were not a fictional character - he doesn’t even seem to get any attention from the other characters in the show who are made aware of derek’s past including kate, paige, and the fire but it’s like ‘derek will be derek’ rather than ‘wtf this guy needs help and support’, although i would’ve liked a developed plot where derek confronts and overcomes all the shit he’s been put thorough I’d have accepted a crumb of derek getting the emotional support he needs

jennifer (who we know to be a master manipulator) is the second woman who uses sex to manipulate derek as she tries to use him to help her take down the alpha pack and in the process of her plan she nearly kills derek’s sister and derek gives up his alpha powers to save her, once again leaving him less powerful than he was before and leaving him vulnerable

isaac makes a comment about how derek was ‘rolling around the sheets with the real killer’ as though derek was supposed to know that jennifer was the darach when no one else had figured it out/even suspected her - jennifer kills stiles’ friend and nearly kills lydia, but she doesn’t have as much impact on any other main character as she does on derek - we don’t know too much about the nature of their relationship but derek does go to her after he is injured episode 3x05/3x06(?) and he does have some feelings for her and wants to protect her - at the very least they have an emotional connection and jennifer uses sex and intimacy to manipulate derek like a pawn in her overall plan

continuing with the themes of bodily autonomy and consent derek’s body is repeated used against his will - like in season 2 when scott forces derek to bite gerard (although this was part of a larger plan this doesn’t take away from the fact that derek’s autonomy was stripped away again) and in season 3 when derek’s claws are used to kill boyd- not only painful for him because he is taking the life of a friend and a member of his own pack but also because of derek’s ‘im a predator but i don’t have to be a killer’ line which shows us that CHOICE is important to him and he wants to have control over the actions and path he takes (which is probably fair to say for most people but is specifially an important part of derek’s character)

overall, derek is repeatedly manipulated by people he is supposed to trust and care for - he has a whole lot of trauma for his teen years which could have been so well addressed in the show and brought awareness to male sexual violence (already unrepresented) and teen wolf could’ve really stood out against other teen dramas but jeff davis and the writers weren’t willing to go in that direction (but they still gave us the train wreck of season 4??) and instead derek’s character is left as this stoic, eye candy guy with so much wasted potential

rant over x

(soz for any spelling mistakes/bad grammar but it’s half one in the morning here n i had a lot of thoughts to get out before i went to sleep)

[kukukape]

Watch Dogs Legion: OC x Richard Malik, pt. 1

Summary: Teenaged Richard Malik is getting beat up in a back alley. Is it retribution for the future? Yeah, but Angel doesn't know that.

---

Cold.

Ruthless.

Insatiable in the business of death, and so very skilled too.

These are the things that I became over the course of my life. Not necessarily in that order, or even in succession at all. In fact, I don't think I can even say I really 'became' those things. I always had been. My youthful murders say that much.

When I look in the mirror, I do see a monster. I do. One that I don't hold anyone at fault for, as this demon, I am confident, is purely my own doing. And I often dislike her, with her jagged smile and scarred face.

But I cherish the memories that she has been able to acquire, pure and sweet amidst a journey beelining for nothing but death. I made good friends, lots of enemies (of the good and bad), and one lover. And in each I found smiles and human tears, and a mixture of other emotions that, at the end of the day, at least were something that I could feel.

My name is Angel Marcos, and I lived a bad life.

But there was beauty in it, although rarely mine, and I'd like to share it.

---

DedSec, in all its arrogant glory, often calls themselves 'Watch Dogs'. How fitting to label us animals, really. But even better, would be to call us 'little brothers', because all we ever seemed to accomplish was kicking 'big brother' in the shins and screaming Bloody Mary at spectators.

Anyway, DedSec was my final chapter. My longest chapter. And plenty of other chapters saw their beginning and end before that one (after all, nobody becomes a skilled monster overnight).

Life only began for me when I met Richard. A tall, lanky, awkward, and- well, cute, to be frank- thing at the beginning of secondary school.

As a teen, I took a back way to school. At least, one of the back ways available, because I knew several. A useful skill for a kid who found herself on the business end of a bully's instigated fist so often.

My rise was at the break of dawn, just as an extra contingency. Plus, it let me slow down for a much-needed morning walk. A teenager needed some peace before they wreaked havoc, after all.

I tapped my feet to a beat nobody else around me could hear, holding my iPod (it was 2001, fuck off) in one hand and the side strap of my backpack in the other. Gravel crunched under my feet and somewhere not so far off, some kid's grunts and cries of pain were unknown to me.

You rock my world, ya know you did,

And everything I own I give,

The rarest love, who'd think I'd find,

Someone like y-

I yelped as someone bashed into me right as I turned a corner, and nearly sent me right back around it. The peace of my mornings, interrupted by some idiot without a care to look around himself…

…which made sense, considering the sorry lump on the ground that he and some of his presumes friends were kicking.

Oh, shit, that's not a lump, that's a kid.

A lanky kid, at that. His scrawny arms obscured his face as he covered himself in a way you were supposed to when facing a grizzly bear. Near-girlish cries left him with every blow he was forced to take.

I must have looked either idiotic or simply unsympathetic in that moment, just staring dumbly (or blankly) as this kid was being pummeled into the ground. It took another shove my way to wake me the fuck up.

"Fuck off, Marcos," the perpetrator growled. I settled him with a look when he said my name. I didn't recognize him, but he must have been from school, given his now-bloodied uniform.

Another shove.

"I said fuck off, bitch! Ya wanna end up like this little wanker too?" He jabbed a finger at the primary victim.

My lips had yet to flap some sass back at him, which was honestly a feat in itself. I looked back at the kid on the ground, who hadn't cried out for help or begged for mercy. It almost made me not want to help him.

I shrugged my backpack off my shoulders and promptly swung it at my irritator's head. He hit the brick wall next to us and dropped to the ground cold.

…Apparently 'almost' wasn't enough.

His three friends looked up at the sound of a wanker's hollow head meeting an immovable force.

They looked at their friend on the ground.

Then they looked at me.

The kid on the ground had even started shifting up onto his elbows to observe me too.

I put my iPod in my pocket with a sigh, and bit the hair tie I had on my wrist.

"C'mon, let's get this over with."

---

Sound. Sound was the only thing I had, considering my glasses were snapped in half and tossed over the chained fence those four had cornered me at.

And sound by itself was almost too much, as I heard bones being cracked and the squelch of finer parts being crushed.

I'd nearly grown irritated, watching the blur of a person- a girl, I had realized- in between the cracks of my guarding arms. I was never a begger, not until duty called for such. But it would have brought me more comfort to see her scamper away rather than spectate.

To this day, I don't know what was going through Angel's mind as she watched the scene. I'm sure my weakness crossed her mind, but her life was of constant choices.

I wonder which one she really made that day, as she put down four bullies twice her size and sauntered over to cast her shadow over me.

I flinched away as she knelt by my side, halfway sure she'd knock me out too for good measure. Then she put a hand on my arm- her palms were soft, to my surprise. I'd suspected callouses, rough like the gravel I'd been beaten down on.

"Hey, you okay?" She asked.

"Do I look okay?" I snapped back. A small part of me shriveled in shame, to snap at who was, admittedly, my savior.

But she didn't seem to mind, or perhaps she just didn't care. Carefully, she helped me to my feet, patting me on the shoulders in a (very weak) form of comfort.

I rubbed at my eyes, wishing they'd for once cooperate with me so I could actually see who it was who'd come to my rescue. She seemed to recognize my struggle as she looked around for a pair of glasses.

"I have contacts in my backpack…" I muttered. There was no way I'd be able to rummage through it on my own.

"You must be really blind," she quipped, but helped me nonethless as I grumbled. "Here," she put the pack in my hands and I quickly put the contacts in.

I let out a sigh of relief as my vision cleared, and the bloodbath of a fight before me became that much clearer, and my rescuer all the prettier. I had had more graceful first thoughts about people, and I quickly shoved those about her down.

"You really, erm…" I gestured with my chin behind her at the scene she'd created, trying to divert her steel gaze from me. "Beat them by yourself?"

She simply shrugged, leaning down to hand me my backpack and then picking up hers again. As she stepped over the head of the little gang's legs, she made sure to give his foot a sound kick.

My feet, however, had yet to agree to move. She looked over her shoulder at me. "Are you coming? We could make it to school early and get you cleaned up," she said.

"Oh… of course," I dashed up to walk by her side, and she cringed a bit at the obvious awkwardness my injuries had induced.

We walked in silence for a few minutes before she spoke up. "You're new in the neighborhood, aren't you?" She asked, though her tone wasn't inquisitive.

"…I am."

That made her smile. A crooked smile, her white teeth peeking out from the side. But the crinkle of her eyes was soft.

"Well, I'm Angel," she said as she turned forward again.

It took me a moment to get over my bewilderment that these were our introductions.

No, this interaction belonged to two people who'd crossed paths on the sidewalk to school. Not to a wiry teenage boy and the girl who'd saved him from the beating of his life.

But as far as I could tell- and can tell- Angel had already forgotten about heroics and dramatics and convoluted thank you's.

"I'm Richard," I said softly, "Richard Malik."

She snorted slightly, and I tossed her a look. She smiled apologetically. "Yeah? Do you like your drink shaken or stirred, Richard?"

I let out a dramatic groan, perhaps more pained than the ones I'd been letting out on that alleyway ground.

But I'd be damned to say I didn't smile.

~end~

[heyheydidjaknow]

I’m uploading this Friday at 12:10 am. Or, at least, that’s when I finished writing this. Yes, we’re still on the angst thing. It won’t last forever, but still.

Chapter 9

“How is she?”

Donatello sits down next to his brother on the couch. “Same as yesterday,” he sighs. “Comatose.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Raphael smirks. “That stupid bitch decided to total the fuckin—"

“Raphael,” he promises coolly, “I will personally make it my life’s goal to make sure you can never open your mouth again if you don’t shut up.”

He puts his hands up. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Will you two be quiet for a minute? I’m trying to listen.” Leonardo kneels in front of the television.

There is a new news story.

“They can’t arrest her, can they?” The tallest brother glances at the others.

“Nah.” Michelangelo is sprawled out on his portion of the couch, eyes dully focused on the screen. “They’ll side with her before someone from a street gang, ‘specially with those…” He trails off. “’ Sides,” he clears his throat, “any good public defense lawyer would call it self-defense, and there’s no way the police would convict a teenage girl of any degree of murder with the injuries she has; bad press.”

“Mikey,” Leo asks, “how come you know that and not how to multiply numbers by seven?”

“Because seven is a stupid number that was created just to make us all feel stupid.”

“Leo—”

“He’s right,” Raph agrees. “They won’t put her away for something like that.” He chuckles darkly. “Besides, there’s no more evidence.”

“After what happened with the neurologist?”

“Donnie,” Leo turns to look at him. “She’s going to be fine.”

He opens his mouth to argue, closes it.

” The perpetrator,” the news anchor reads, ” was found this morning after a panicked nine-one-one caller had seen the hand of the assailant hanging over a ledge. The corpse had, presumably, been flung away from the scene of the incident as a consequence of the explosion, miraculously landing on the roof of a nearby restaurant. The body has been identified as Fong Zhao, who was arrested on multiple charges of armed battery earlier this year. The police have refrained from offering Channel Six detailed information, but we have an anonymous source who claims that he and the gang he is supposedly involved in, locally referred to as the Purple Dragons, was also involved in the hijacking of a truck carrying a substance believed to be tear gas. The driver of the truck testified in favor of this statement earlier this evening. An investigation is currently ongoing regarding the involvement of the men in question, and we at Channel Six implore our viewers to come forward with any information you may have on the case or the supposed ringleader, the recently escaped Xever Montes. More on that later tonight. Up next, a local—”

Leonardo shuts off the television. “Well, there you go.” He stands up. “See? Didn’t even mention her name.”

Donatello breathes out a sigh of relief. “Good,” he nods after a moment. “That’s... good.” He cradles his head in his hand, his concerns hardly pacified by the report.

This, he cannot excuse. This is entirely a matter of his own negligence.

‘I should’ve noticed sooner, insisted to come with.’ He zones out, his brother starting a conversation about something he cannot bring himself to pay attention to. ‘How could she be that reckless? It’s Shredder for fuck’s sake; I should’ve at least noticed the body or something, anything.’ His fingers lace together as he stares a hole into the ground. ‘Even if I couldn’t have stopped her, I should’ve been there, if only after the fact.’ He runs his tongue along his teeth absentmindedly. ‘Some ninja I am. Some friend. Some—’

“So, I broke Y/N’s arms, right?”

His head snaps up. “You what?”

“There he is,” Raph chuckles. “Knew that’d get his attention.”

“Don’t make me go over there,” he glares. His face flushes in embarrassment.

Leonardo rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics. “As I was saying, it’s been pretty quiet, hasn’t it? Since the incident?”

“Now that you mention it,” Raph points out, “since the whole Leatherhead fiasco, I don’t think anything’s really happened. Ya know, besides the Kraang thing.” He crosses his arms behind his head, leaning back into the couch. “It’s been getting’ kinda boring If I’m bein’ honest.”

“It’s that desire to fight that’s going to get you killed,” Donatello informs him, staring at the television screen. “Saw what happened to her, right? Weren’t you just saying how stupid she was being?”

“Yeah, but that’s different.” He smiles sharply. “She’s got exactly no training. As much as you guys seem to have a thing for humility all of a sudden,” he waves his hand contemptuously, “the only reason she got hurt is that she was being stupid, so we’re pretty much undefeated, no thanks to Leo.”

He stands up, deciding against fighting him. “If you need me,” he says curtly, “I’ll be in my lab.”

“Watch it, Raph,” the eldest brother snaps.

“Why should I?” He throws his hands up. “Am I wrong?”

Mikey quietly grabs his comic off the floor, retreating to his room, presumably.

Donatello slides the door in between him and his brothers as he sits down at his desk.

You have been stuck in the hospital for about two weeks now.

‘Technically,’ he corrects himself as he pulls his laptop open, ‘it’s been three hundred fifty-seven hours, meaning it’s closer to fifteen days than two weeks. Why do I know that?’ He pulls up an image, uncapping a permanent marker and working on one of the more mindless parts of his latest project: reviving an incredibly battered map. He already has a frame for it once he is finished, but, knowing his brothers, the fading colors would likely be a point of contention if he did not at least make an effort to make it easier to read. Fortunately for him, it is not laminated. Unfortunately—depending on how you look at it— a lot of the finer details—the integral streets names in particular—are all irreparably smudged and, therefore, will have to be all rewritten by hand, turning a once twenty-minute job into at least a two-hour investment.

He tries to tune out the incessant arguing of his two older brothers as he focuses on making his minute handwriting legible despite the infuriatingly fat marker nib.

“You should have taken her offer for a pen when you had the chance,” he mumbles to himself.

His hand stops.

‘Would it be weird to go check on her again? Just to make sure she’s still alright? I mean,’ he goes back to work, ‘even if it were, how would she know?’

He shakes his head to clear it. ‘Stop that. You’re being a creep again.’

Over those two weeks, his distractedness has become more of a problem than it has in the past in reference to his work. He is hardly a stranger to having a thousand thoughts bouncing around his head at once, but where once a rapid stream of information was there is now an aggravatingly slow sludge. The origin of said mind sludge is not at all a mystery to him, which makes the whole thing infinitely more frustrating. ‘Frustrating? Depressing? Does it even matter?’

He rubs his eye absentmindedly with the heel of his palm as he strains to see what he is doing. The smell of the marker is corrosive in his nostrils. His hand shakes. He sets it down, wringing his hands as if to force them back into submission as he stares holes into the map. ‘This is not supposed to be challenging.’ He closes his eyes, the image of you lying on the ground, a bloody, skeletal figure shaking and begging for your life carved into the backs of his eyelids, a hideous scar.

He can not stop thinking about what you said the night before the incident. Something about being able to care for yourself.

What would you say to him now? He imagines that it would be something to remind him of how the accident is your fault, how he should not beat himself up over it, but all that does is convince him that he should have been faster to act or to respond or something. There had to have been something he, in his infinite wisdom, could have done. What else can he reason? That he is powerless? That he had no say in what happened that night of nights?

‘How come I can plan and build a combat vehicle out of alien technology and an old subway car and I can’t—’

He jumps at a loud banging at the door.

“Donnie!” He can hear Raphael’s wicked grin from behind the door. “Bank robbery! Let’s go!”

He sighs, capping the marker. His breakdown will have to wait.

“Comin’!”

--

The ringing in your ears is already annoying.

You have been awake for about five minutes. You have elected against moving for a plethora of reasons, but the ringing is a relatively large determining factor in your decision. You are, admittedly, not sure where you are until you hear the tell-tale incessant beeping you remember from your childhood. You do not open your eyes yet. You are incredibly drowsy for some reason.

‘Hospital?’

You sit up carefully, wincing as a numb pain permeates through your arms. You run your fingers over your face curiously, feeling for any perceived disfigurement as your eyes scan your surroundings. The small room you have been placed in seems standard; there are a couple of chairs under a window that makes up half of the wall, a television screen in a corner of the room, an inoffensive painting, and a small vase filled with some sort of white flowers.

You feel a protruding scar on the right side of your face. It traces from the bridge of your nose to about halfway across your cheekbone. As you bring your hands down to pull the hospital gown away from your body, you catch sight of your hands. Long, jagged cuts run vertically along the front of your hands, and as your eyes travel up your arms, you notice fewer, shorter scars along the insides of your forearms. You swallow, pulling the cloth away from your body to see long scratches running from your thighs to under your ribcage. You pull the blanket off to find that one of your legs is encased in a white cast.

You blink. ‘What stupid thing did I do?’

You lay back down, fingers absentmindedly tracing the scars. ‘I must have been out for a bit.’ You push the hair out of your face, noting how oddly shaky your hands are as you try to focus on what had happened. ‘Why wouldn’t my folks be here? They wouldn’t ditch me in a hospital, would they?’ You hold them out in front of you, palms to the ceiling. ‘I don’t look old or anything. My nails aren’t much longer than they were before, so I can’t have been out for that long.’

Your eyebrows furrow. ‘Parents…’ You swallow. ‘Oh, right. The fire.’ Your eyes go out of focus. ‘Dead. I was, too, until recently.’ You put your arms down. ‘I’m hungry. Where am I?’ You close your eyes. ‘New York. East coast. How far is the East Coast from the West Coast? I should call her so she knows I’m—no, she’s dead.’

“All dead and gone,” you mumble the tune to yourself.

You cover your face. ‘Focus. What happened?’ You recall what you think is a church. ‘Turtles. Turtle. Oh, TMNT. Where are people? Focus.’ You yank at a piece of your hair, mumbling to yourself as you try to run through the memory again.

The image of that man’s body takes your breath away.

You shut your eyes tighter. ‘Right. Car. Glass. Glass would be a good candy. Could you make glass out of sugar? Isn’t that what a lollipop is?’ You hug yourself tightly, careful of the IV as you roll onto your side towards it. ‘I killed someone. Someones. That’s not a word. Gasoline smells bad.’ You feel tears prick at your eyes. ‘I deserve to die for that. There has to have been an easier way to do that. I deserve to burn again. That explosion was so prettily animated in that episode. I can’t breathe.’

You curl your legs up towards you, using the arm not connected to the IV to hook behind your knees. You bury your head in your shoulder as you force your breathing to slow. ‘I miss her. Where is he? They’re dead and you killed them, you heartless bitch.’

You feel a sob rise in your throat. You swallow it back. ‘Stop being a pussy.’ You hear yourself start to count softly. ‘They’re all dead and gone. You’re on your own here, so get a grip.’ You grip the blanket. ‘After all, who are you going to turn to? The guys who already risk their lives every day? Or maybe Splinter, who will probably tell you some bullshit about letting your pain go?’

‘That’s not fair,’ you argue with yourself. ‘You can turn to Murakami. Casey might be willing to help.’

‘Because Casey’s known for his reliability and Murakami would want to deal with your stupid emotional problems.’

“Twenty-three,” you whisper, keeping your voice even. “Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…’

You pull yourself back up, bringing your knee to your chest as you wipe any tears that may have leaked out with the back of your hand.

You do not have to wait long until someone comes in to check on you, a taller gentleman with sharp features and sunken eyes behind curly black hair. He introduces himself as Nurse McGrath, gives you a run down of the dizzying number of injuries you had suffered in the accident, what they had done to fix the problem, and starts to discuss what would become of you now.

“The doctor predicts that you’ll be able to remove your cast in approximately six weeks, and that you will regain your fine-motor skills fully in eight.” He is obviously half asleep, but you can hardly blame him; the clock on the wall reads that it is about three in the morning. “The symptoms from the whiplash should completely fade in about three months. If you would be open, there are medications we can prescribe to help with the pain.”

You smile. “Thank you, sir, but I’d rather not.” You are sincerely concerned what might happen if you start taking any sort of medication right now, considering your mental health.

“I should probably warn you in advance that the police might ask you to come in to identify the guys who kidnapped you.”

You blink, confused. “How do they know I was kidnapped?”

“Anonymous tip, according to the news.” He scratches something into some form or another. “I dunno the specifics, but nobody thinks they’re gonna charge you with anything, ‘specially since the driver was from that street gang.”

You nod. “Gotcha.” You purse your lips. “What day is it?”

“Twenty-fourth, now.”

You sigh. “Well,” you shrug, ignoring the pain it causes, “at least I’m not dead.”

“At least.” He caps his pen. “Technically, you’re free to leave, but the doc thinks it’s a good idea to stay overnight. Your insurance provider has your medical bills covered, so you’re good for it.”

“Honestly? I’m surprised I don’t feel weaker.” You smile. “I’m more than happy to head home tonight, if that makes most sense.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t stay.” He starts heading out of your room. “Your cellphone is locked up. I’m guessing you want it?”

You nod eagerly, realizing quickly that makes the ringing worse.

“I’ll bring it right back, then.”

You refrain from touching it until he leaves.

It looks as if it was put in a blender, but you find it does still turn on. A problem quickly arises: your hands cannot hold the phone. You set it down on the mattress, each movement taking a ridiculous amount of time to coordinate as you type like someone who has never used a phone before. ‘Fine motor skills. Right.’ You type out a message after approximately too long that tells Donnie that you are out of the hospital and heading home.

You check out of the hospital at approximately four-thirteen. The trip home is a straight line of a walk that takes you approximately twenty minutes. Getting in through the door with a walker is a bit of a challenge, but it works out well enough.

You lock the door and windows when you get home, shutting your phone off as you crawl into bed.

You let out a low groan as your head punishes you for your heinous crime of moving. You had realized ten minutes into your walk that you were not at all physically strong enough to walk that long, and you already hate yourself for it, among other reasons. As you crawl into bed, ignoring your body’s protest, you still stand by your decision to not take any medication, especially now.

You feel as though you are being suffocated as you cling onto your pillow, pressing your face into it as you cry silently, the ringing in your ears only getting louder in the silence of your apartment.

‘I feel sick.’

You remember your first night here. You remember the feeling it had caused you, the numb ache of loss as you submitted to the situation you had found yourself in. It feels like an eternity ago, now. You know, logically, it cannot have been more than two months since you got here.

You had decided against taking a cab back home. You had the cash, and you still do, in your bloodstained pocket. You saw many as you walked home, and you had turned a blind eye to them all.

You feel yourself trembling again. You remember the first night you had slept on your own here, the nightmares you swore were the product of a mind much more sadistic than yours ever was. You remember, too, the nightmares you had after Bradford, the way that, for the first time in your life since you were five years old you woke up drenched in sweat and crying for your mother.

What possible dream could come from this?

You reach a hand to the nightstand, hovering over your cellphone as you consider your next action.

Slowly, you retract it, letting it rest next to you. ‘It’s four. He’s not awake.’ You do not have the energy to get up to grab the bottle of sleeping pills from your bathroom.

‘I don’t want to sleep. I can’t take another nightmare.’ You rest your cheek on the pillow, forcing your eyes shut. ‘Mare. Why is it called a nightmare? Are mares truly that terrifying?’

“One,” you whisper. “Two. Three.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 8

Chapter 10