#I like when he’s possessive and self-destructive and terrible. I just think. in this particular instance. this was not him embodying

[quietwingsinthesky]

Irks me a little bit whenever Dean torturing in Hell is positioned as his own fault, or even really his choice to do. We get given the solid number, 30 years of torture for him and 10 inflicting it on other people (which was also more torture for him because it’s Hell, the torture evolves, it doesn’t stop), and we get told that wasn’t long enough. That John held out longer. That angels were going to pull Dean out of Hell and if he’d just held on a few years more, the seal wouldn’t have been broken.

But that isn’t true, right? We know Heaven wanted the seal broken, ergo Dean wasn’t getting saved until it was. Until it, and he, we’re thoroughly broken and usable by Heaven to achieve their own ends (ie to make him into a good (obedient) Michael sword.) So, it wouldn’t have mattered how long he held out in Apocalyptic terms because the game (that he didn’t know he was playing) was rigged against him.

But more importantly for Dean, the amount of time he managed not to break literally does not matter. Because it was never going to be long enough. Thirty years, forty, a hundred, a thousand, it does not matter how long he held out because the breaking itself is the unforgivable part to him and the breaking was always inevitable.

Anyway. There’s my Dean meta for the year. Eat up, I guess.

[tossawary]

Hi,.....if you don't mind me asking, can I ask your top 5 (or top 3) favorite characters from SVSSS? And why do you love them? And your top 5 favorite moments from the novel? Sorry if you've answered this question before....Thanks....

Hi! Thank you for asking! I can use this to reflect on my SVSSS reread some more and mention some things I didn’t bring up in my other posts. I don't think I've ever explicitly rounded these things up into a list, so this is a fun thing to think about while I've run out of work and my supervisor isn't messaging me back. I'll try to focus on just the main story of SVSSS, because I haven't reread Volume 4 yet, and if my opinions change after reading the extras collection, then I'll come back and say so.

Long post ahead! Favorite characters and scenes!

Favorite characters:

Shen Yuan! I can't remember where I would have ranked him the first time I read SVSSS, but I always liked him just fine, and I've found a new love for him with the reread, being reminded of just how funny he is and how asexual he seems! He also just wants to be nice to people. I enjoy how much he enjoys food and reading and just chilling out chatting to people. He enjoys life! He fucks up several times, quite badly, but he's not unreasonable for assuming that Binghe would want to kill him, and I think it's compelling how the sheer overwhelming panic of his impossible situation wouldn't let him take a step back from the fast-paced nonsense he's forced to go through that often isn't his fault.

Luo Binghe! He's one of the main characters and he's such a sweetheart, when he also isn't a murderous emotional wreck or cold bastard, which is just fun to read about. Despite everything (being pushed into hell, being possessed by an evil sword, watching his teacher self-destruct and blaming himself for it, being able to take the world on a bloodied silver platter and then getting his ass kicked by his birth father), I feel like he turned out surprisingly well! I like how he just wants to dote on Shen Qingqiu and be doted on. He is trying SO hard to communicate with someone who keeps running away from him, but he doesn't know how. Crybaby demon emperor who abandoned having a harem in order to chase just one guy is still funny.

Getting to side characters... I like pretty much all of them! A lot of them are pretty evenly ranked for me, even though I like them all for different reasons.

Shang Qinghua probably has to take the top spot of side characters here, partly because I am deeply influenced by the Airplane Extras and all the fanfiction I've written for him, but also because I still think he has such a fascinating position as the author of this world and story, and he's such an irreverent ass to Shen Qingqiu at the same time that he does occasionally go through significant effort to help him out. His conversations with Shen Qingqiu are extremely funny. I'm glad that Shen Qingqiu has someone who knows about the truth of his background. Whatever the fuck is going on with him and Mobei-Jun in the background is funny and I fully understand why people read only the main story and then go, “WHY THE FUCK ARE SO MANY PEOPLE FIXATING ON THEM??? MOBEI-JUN HAS LIKE TEN LINES OF DIALOGUE!!!”

Then... uh... I don't know. I guess I'll put Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang next, together as a pair. They're both so eccentric and charismatic, although in very different ways, and I enjoy them as villains. They kill SO MANY people and do NOT care. Zhuzhi-Lang in particular has the weirdest fucking morals and I dig how he’s clearly a person but also very much NOT HUMAN. They're both very funny in the jokes they make and in the scenes they're in. Their backstories and fates are also terribly sad. Tianlang-Jun having the truth of Su Xiyan’s death revealed to him is a little heartbreaking even if he’s an ass. I like how powerful they are and how they weren't a part of the PIDW published story, so they can blindside Shen Qingqiu and mess everything up.

The character I was struck by the most on this reread was Gongyi Xiao, so I'll put him next. Though I do like Liu Mingyan, Sha Hualing, Yue Qingyuan, and Liu Qingge. Hmm, maybe I'll tie him with Sha Hualing for this particular reread.

Gongyi Xiao was good because of how genuinely good he's trying to be, despite the fact that he's stuck as a part of Huan Hua Palace, with a Palace Master and a Little Palace Mistress who seem worse than useless. He's trying his best to keep things civil and avoid falling into mob mentality. He spares Zhuzhi-Lang when Shen Qingqiu points out the demon hasn't done anything, so he's willing to view demons as not being entirely evil, and then he gets tragically killed off when Zhuzhi-Lang decides to mark him as an enemy and he's just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He helps Shen Qingqiu escape the Water Prison because he thinks the man is being sexually and physically abused by the new head disciple, Luo Binghe. I also like the jealousy he can invoke in Luo Binghe and I think there's an interesting potential connection to Su Xiyan, which also has cool fic potential.

Sha Hualing was good because she's just so obnoxious and dangerous and at the same time a little pathetic. I mean, I still wish that SVSSS did a little more with their female characters, because even if some of them have interesting personality quirks, they're a little flat and don't have much power over the plot. But Sha Hualing does at least have a hand in launching a few important events and scenes, pretty much because she likes causing trouble and has great ambition, even if she keeps getting her ass kicked. I like the fact that she apparently backstabbed her father, because that couldn't have just been because of Luo Binghe. I like the fact that Liu Mingyan's face apparently left her speechless. I like the fact that she keeps losing the fucking top of her stupid skimpy outfit and flashes her breasts several times and still won't change it. It's just for comedy, I know, but I can still use it to build up my vision of a horrible little gremlin woman who wants to conquer the world but has gotten stuck with a shitty boss, and maybe doesn't so much want to conquer the world as she wants to be fawned over and start shit.

Favorite moments from the main story:

This is also kind of hard to decide, because there are a lot of good moments, and they're good for lots of different reasons. It's difficult to rank comedic moments against tragic ones against action scenes against the more sentimental moments. And I'm obviously not able to rank objective quality when tastes are so subjective. So this list won't actually be properly ranked and will be more a little random as I struggle to remember particularly striking moments, focusing more on genuine sentiment than the comedy.

Just before the Immortal Alliance Conference, when Binghe is 17 and recently returned from a mission, and Shen Qingqiu asks him what he would be willing to go through in order to be strong.

I like this sequence because it shows off the level of affection between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe. It shows off how Luo Binghe has flourished under a teacher who cares (and we know that Binghe has been training as a demon for the past few years as well, so there’s some intrigue going on) and introduces us to the Zheng Yang sword. It shows us how much Shen Qingqiu trusted Binghe with as his head disciple, when he's just leaving admin work to Binghe without needing to look it over, and how Binghe is kind of a workaholic (due to his desire to prove himself worthy) and how Shen Qingqiu is so laidback and content when he's allowed control over his own life. There are lots of soft moments in these scenes. There are some funny moments.

We learn that Shen Qingqiu has resolved to distance himself from the protagonist, so that pushing him into the Abyss will hurt less, and then he keeps failing because he can't help but praise and reward Luo Binghe for his efforts. It shows off Shen Qingqiu's dread over the Endless Abyss. How much he doesn't want to hurt Binghe but how he's convincing himself that it's necessary for the protagonist's development. It shows off the compartmentalization that Shen Qingqiu is doing. And yet Shen Qingqiu can't help but try and prepare Binghe in some way, and it's fascinating to imagine what Binghe must have been thinking in that moment and after that moment.

There's a lot of fascinating character and relationship stuff being done in these few scenes, compelling our attachment to them by showing their affection, and upping the tension by showing Shen Qingqiu's dread.

Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua's first appearances, in the middle of an Immortal Alliance Conference going terribly wrong. Yes, I'm pushing their introductions together.

Look, I'm biased towards these two, and maybe the scenes rise above the others partly with the benefit of hindsight, but that's fine! Shang Qinghua is striking from the get-go if only because of his apparent cheerfulness in the middle of a horrific invasion, after we’ve just witnessed several disturbing and violent disciple deaths, and Shen Qingqiu reveals him to be the logistics lord of Cang Qiong and a spy. And THEN MOBEI-JUN APPEARS, an ice-cold badass from the get-go, the protagonist’s future right-hand man showing up five hundred chapters early to open the Endless Abyss! He gets a kickass fight scene first with Shen Qingqiu, then with Luo Binghe, wrecks Luo Binghe’s life, and then leaves because...??? He’s interested to see where this goes? He’s bored? He’s decided that he’s started enough shit? He’s a total wildcard. We have seen so much horrific violence and death here, and it is squarely Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun’s fault! They’re both such villains! It’s very fun.

These scenes are also fun because of the worldbuilding they do for the PIDW story (Luo Binghe’s future as Demon Emperor), the monsters, the Demon Realm, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, and the cultivation world in general. They also launch Shen Qingqiu’s relationship with his fellow transmigrator, which is one of my favorite relationships in the story, even if Shen Qingqiu only tells us that he’s realized Shang Qinghua is a transmigrator after the story is over.

Yue Qingyuan revealing his full history with Shen Jiu and apologizing to Shen Qingqiu (Shen Yuan), who makes it clear to Yue Qingyuan that he’s not angry but gently puts some distance between them, because the person who should hear this is no longer present.

The Yue Qi and Shen Jiu story is a very sad one. I like how these reveals recontextualize Shen Qingqiu’s relationship with Yue Qingyuan. I like how it’s revealed to us that the Xuan Su sword saps away Yue Qingyuan’s lifeforce, that he damaged his own soul trying to save Shen Jiu, and that he was imprisoned in the Lingxi Caves. It’s all very compelling and tugs at the heartstrings. It feels rewarding to me to get this backstory. And Yue Qingyuan is apparently possibly dying at the time that he reveals all of this to Shen Qingqiu.

And for all the trouble that Shen Qingqiu (Shen Yuan) has caused Yue Qingyuan by his miscommunication and flailing around trying not to die, I think that he handles this incredible difficult situation pretty well despite the intense pressure that they’re all under. (The Demon and Human Realms are merging! Cang Qiong Mountain Sect is set to merge with the Endless Abyss!) Shen Yuan is sad that Shen Jiu can’t hear this. He very obviously pretends that he didn’t hear any of this, essentially telling Yue Qingyuan that he will have to live if he want to talk about this later, so don’t die, Yue Qingyuan! He makes it clear that he’s no longer angry at the same time that sort of... rebuffs Yue Qingyuan’s attempts to treat him as Shen Jiu? He makes it clear that their relationship will never be that intimate again, even if he has no hard feelings.

Because Shen Yuan feels like if anyone should be hearing this and offering forgiveness, then it should be Shen Jiu, and that it’s not his place to step forward and take over that particular relationship speaking for Shen Jiu. He’s pretty graceful about it. He took over someone else’s life and he can’t tell anyone (at least that’s how I’ve interpreted it, and I don’t blame Shen Yuan for not testing his luck against a System that has spent the past few years threatening to kill him if he doesn’t perform adequately to its standards, doing things he doesn’t want to do, in extremely high pressure situations). And Yue Qingyuan has to accept this rebuff gracefully as well.

Shen Qingqiu carrying and protecting an unconscious Luo Binghe in the Holy Mausoleum, fighting against the last-breath candles and blind corpses, then fighting against Qiu Haitang and the Palace Master.

It’s kind of funny to reach the point where Shen Qingqiu stops running away from Luo Binghe, because despite the cold shoulders and the miscommunication and the previous trust in the protagonist halo, Shen Qingqiu just can’t bear to let Luo Binghe die. He can’t bring himself to risk it. He’s so aghast at Tianlang-Jun for not giving a shit about his son. He kind of even seems angry about it.

I like the worldbuilding done in the Holy Mausoleum, even if parts of it are a little confusing to me. I enjoy a lot of the traps in this particular dungeon. I think that the last-breath candles are enchanting little creatures. I think that paring them with the blind corpses makes for an interesting threat and a compelling series of horror scenes. I think the state that the Old Palace Master and Qiu Haitang is pretty freaky in a fascinating way. I think that the Old Palace Master’s death at the hand of those little plants attracted to spiritual energy is disturbing, and that it was a clever move on Shen Qingqiu’s part to get the man to kill himself.

And the scene of Shen Qingqiu kissing Luo Binghe’s forehead in the coffin, in order to hide the light of his demon mark, is pretty striking.

Shen Qingqiu’s confrontation with Luo Binghe in the Water Prison and then escaping the Water Prison with Gongyi Xiao.

This is where we get even more insight into Luo Binghe’s post-Abyss mindset and I think it’s where we get the first bit of real insight into Luo Binghe’s difficulties with the Xin Mo sword. His conversation with Shen Qingqiu is frustrating and alarming, because Shen Qingqiu just won’t talk and Luo Binghe is angry even if he doesn’t want to kill Shen Qingqiu. There’s intrigue with how Luo Binghe became the new head disciple of Huan Hua Palace. There’s intrigue with how Shen Qingqiu intends to get out of this and how the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom will be involved in his escape. On one hand, I don’t want Shen Qingqiu to stick around and die and it would be fun to see him in a plant body, but on the other hand, I do think Luo Binghe deserves some explanation.

And then the whole thing with Shen Qingqiu losing his clothes because of the Little Palace Mistress’ whip and Luo Binghe offering his outer robe, which is funny as hell. Because Luo Binghe is hot for his teacher and then angry that Shen Qingqiu won’t even accept this much from him. And Shen Qingqiu is thinking, “Hey, this is the robe Luo Binghe would offer to his love interests after having sex with him. I can’t possibly put this on??? It’s inappropriate.”

Which leads to Gongyi Xiao assuming that Shen Qingqiu is being physically (yes) and sexually (no) abused by Luo Binghe (no), and breaking Shen Qingqiu out of the Water Prison. Because he’s a good boy!

I definitely chose those scenes pretty randomly, but they’re scenes I liked! I don’t know if I can rank things in a definitive order.

Honorable mention to the stuff in Jin Lan City, which is also all fun. It’s very compelling and disturbing and intriguing. And meeting Master Wu Chen in Jin Lan City, who has lost his legs from like the knee-down due to the plague. When we meet Master Wu Chen again later in the series, when the sects are meeting to discuss what the fuck to do about Tianlang-Jun, Master Wu Chen has prosthetic legs now! That’s cool! After all the action at Maigu Ridge is over, Master Wu Chen (who is the one who helped Su Xiyan) helps take Tianlang-Jun back to Zhao Hua Monastery to help him with his broken plant body! Where’s my Wu Chen / Tianlang-Jun rarepair, huh? They’re at the very least bros.

Anyway, this has been fun! Thanks!

[tomodachimeter]

Fukigen na Mononokean Chapter 86 Spoilers

Lots of interesting info revealed and also more  🤝

Read raws here. 

CR’s translation will probably be up in about 24 hours?

NOTE: Please don’t send me asks about how the whole medicine/Influence/possession process works lol. I explained it the best I could here, and CR’s translation will be up soon with hopefully something clearer than my messy attempt here.

A flashback to the first time Koura hands Abeno the medicine. Abeno is suspicious of it and asks how it works, but Koura insists that it’s a secret.

In the present, Ashiya and Abeno ask Koura to tell them how the medicine works and she still says it’s a secret. But Abeno says that they found a sure way of curing Aoi of the parasite. However, the price for it is too high, which is the reason they want to learn more about the medicine so they can narrow down a method without downsides.

Koura stands and says that being able to completely cure the parasite has always been longstanding wish, and asks if they’ll tell her what the method they found was. Ashiya and Abeno agree, and Koura tells them to follow her.

Ashiya realizes he can’t technically enter the Underworld and Abeno is about to leave him, but Koura says she’ll keep it a secret if they keep hers, because even the three officials don’t know the specifics about the medicine. Koura leads them to her lab for experimenting with the medicine, saying it had to be this far down or else the Princess’s protection would interfere. She opens a freezer to reveal a sample of the parasite.

Koura says that ordinarily, the bodies of any yokais who are infected and die of the parasite must be burned according to the law, but one particular yokai’s wish was to be used to research the parasite and allowed her to take the body, so she’s been secretly keeping it here (although mentions there’s only this much of it left o_o)

Ashiya and Abeno are pretty shocked and worry about the legality, if it’s harmful, etc. Koura says it’s safe right now in its frozen state, but they do have to be careful if it thaws, and lists all the terrible symptoms that will affect yokai if they inhale the scent of the flowers, and that if a bug got into the flowers, it could end up spreading it everywhere. At any rate, Abeno says he understands why she’s keeping it such a secret, and Koura says she couldn’t have made the medicine and tested its effectiveness without having something to test it on, and reveals that this parasite is what she makes the medicine from.

Koura details the process (it’s pretty technical so don’t worry too much)  but basically she takes the seeds from the flowers and processes them, and lastly she injects some of her yokai power (love) into it, and Abeno asks why the medicine made from the seeds of the parasite work on the parasite itself. Koura says she’ll show them in person, and tells Fuzzy to stay back because it’ll be dangerous.

She thaws the branch with her powers as a special exception (usually she’d let it thaw naturally) and with this the parasite becomes active, its roots growing rapidly. Koura asks Abeno for one of the medicine pills, to which he realized he forgot it back in the Mononokean. But Ashiya picked it up for him, and places one onto the branch. Reacting to the presence of Koura’s power, the parasite begins to possess the medicine, the medicine activates and sends its own roots out to possess the parasite back, then sap wells up from the parasite and the entire thing catches on fire, burning it up.

Koura says the sap is a poison only released when the parasite reacts to being possessed by something and it’s basically an immune system used to attack anything that would harm the parasite. Koura reverse-engineered the process with the medicine, which forces the parasite to secrete the sap in excessive amounts and begin to attack its own roots, and the poison catches on fire with the parasite self-destructing. Koura continues that this way, the majority of the root is burned away and any remaining root is damaged and temporarily prevented from growing. But it takes a huge toll on the affected yokai and it’s not a complete cure; however, it’s the only certain method she’s found of affecting the parasite.

Ashiya tries to substitute the whole process with Influence instead of the medicine, but is confused because the parasite affecting Aoi wasn’t burned away when Sakae used Influence - rather, it was Sakae who’d “self-destructed” instead, but he comes to a realization and asks Koura what would happen if he touched the sap that came out of the parasite roots.

Koura says she’s never tried with a human, but when she touched a body part of a yokai to the sap as a test, the yokai part caught fire and burned up.

Ashiya relays his thinking to Abeno that the parasite ordinarily doesn’t possess humans, but just before Sakae disappeared, the parasite possessing Aoi had reacted to the Influence surrounding Sakae’s hand and buried its roots into his hand, possessing him, and just like they saw with the medicine, the parasite treated Influence as the enemy and secreted the sap.

Koura is confused about who Sakae is, but Abeno makes the conjecture that Sakae then disappeared (having touched the sap), but Influence doesn’t have a physical form so it remained by possessing Aoi. Ashiya concludes that as long as one doesn’t get possessed by the parasite while using it, the user won’t disappear while using Influence.

But Ashiya realizes that it doesn’t seem very easy to use Influence without touching the sap, but Koura says after using the medicine, the parasite roots will be damaged and dried up and unable to produce the sap for a while, and she’s tested it. Ashiya thinks that if they jointly use the medicine with Influence, he might be able to safely transplant Sakae’s Influence possessing him back to Aoi.

Abeno activates his Influence, and Ashiya asks what he’s doing. Abeno says like it’s obvious that he’s going to test whether there’s any problem with using Influence on the parasite root as it is now, and Ashiya screams at him to stop, saying that how Sakae disappeared is only a theory for now and what if Abeno disappears too.

Abeno stamps on Ashiya’s foot and ignores him, placing his Influence-activated hand on the root to Ashiya’s consternation.

The roots begin to wrap around Abeno’s hand and arm, much to Ashiya’s horror, and he yells at Abeno to let go, reaching his own hand out. Abeno mutters a command for the root to disappear.

Koura is shocked that the root did disappear, but Abeno says that’s not exactly the case unfortunately. However, he didn’t disappear when he used Influence on the parasite as it is now, and is certain that he can cure Aoi with this method.

Looking aside at Ashiya, Abeno asks Sakae for confirmation.

TOO MANY TECHNICAL EXPLANATIONS THIS CHAPTER again please don’t ask me about them lol I tried my best

BUT KOURA!!! I LOVE KOURA she is... so amazing.... I get the sense that being unable to cure the parasite has been her Greatest Failure type of thing and it’s amazing to see her skirt around the laws of the Underworld experimenting on the medicine lol. I wonder if there’s backstory about the yokai who donated its body to help research the medicine. What if it was a yokai that Koura personally knew, or was important to her...? ;;

I really love all of Koura’s reactions, all she says when Abeno activates his Influence is something like “Oh dear, that’s Influence...” haha.

Ashiya picking up Abeno’s pill case for him!!! So cute...

And I screamed about this on Twitter a bit BUT THEY’RE STILL GUARDING EACH OTHER AGAIN AND ABENO YOU FOOL TRYING TO ENDANGER YOURSELF AGAIN WHEN ASHIYA LITERALLY TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT THE LAST FEW CHAPTERS also that’s your injured arm.. stop that right now...

More  🤝

Is anyone else keeping track of how Sakae has dramatically shown up at the end of a chapter

[makeste]

some rambling about legacies, and opening up, and All Might has two sons more at 11

can I offer you an essay about All Might and his children in these trying times.

so back before he got swept up in the great tides of character development, Bakugou used to think that in order for him to succeed at becoming the best hero, it meant that Deku could not succeed. he thought it was a zero sum game; he could only be strong if Deku stayed weak. if Deku grew strong, then that would mean he was the weak one. there wasn’t room for the two of them to reach the top together. it could only be one or the other.

this is of course patently false, and we’ve since seen it disproven beyond a shadow of a doubt, and Katsuki has learned that it’s okay for them to work together. not just okay, but correct; the only way, the best way. it doesn’t make him weak; working with Deku improves them both and helps them both to succeed.

so given that, I think it stands to reason that if this holds true for success and power levels, it should also hold true for their character development, and their personal relationships -- such as their relationship with All Might.

   oddly enough, this is something that’s come under a fair amount of criticism. and interestingly, these criticisms have come from two very different perspectives. All Might spent too much time with Deku and focused too much on him and ignored Katsuki in his favoritism, which did a great deal of harm to Katsuki’s mental health. or the reverse: All Might’s bond with Deku is special and important, and there’s a closeness there that should never have been encroached on by Bakugou, and him sitting in on all of the OFA Club meetings now is unfair to Deku and takes away the one special thing that he had, and for once Kacchan should not make it about him and should butt out.

there isn’t room for both. or so both of these standpoints would seem to imply. All Might cannot be a close mentor to both Katsuki and Izuku; if he gets closer to one, it must necessarily be at the expense of the other.

pardon my very blunt take, but... bullshit.

let’s start by talking about something which I don’t often see discussed: All Might’s similarities to Bakugou. yes, Bakugou. not Izuku, the little green Might Jr., but Bakugou Katsuki, whose hostile and volcanic personality would at first glance seem to clash with All Might’s in almost every way possible. All Might is kind and altruistic and empathetic and burdened with a soul-deep need to help and protect others. All Might was born quirkless. All Might is the mirror image of Deku. All Might chose Deku as his successor specifically because he sees himself in Deku. all of this is absolutely true.

but All Might also keeps to himself. All Might goes to great lengths to avoid being seen as weak. All Might doesn’t let people close to him. All Might rarely works as part of a team. All Might is a natural talent. All Might smiles when he’s up against a wall. All Might is synonymous with determination. and All Might takes responsibility far beyond what he should, and burdens himself and blames himself when things go wrong, even when the outcome is out of his control. and at those times, All Might blames himself for not being stronger.

do you see?? All Might is like Deku, yes, but not only Deku. the truth is that All Might and Katsuki are alike as well. not only are they alike, they’re far too alike, in ways that All Might probably wishes they were not. where Deku is a mirror of All Might’s goodness and selflessness and optimism, Katsuki is a mirror of All Might’s strength and resolve and determination. but he is also a mirror of what is possibly All Might’s greatest weakness: his isolation.

this, perhaps, is a natural consequence that comes from having the sort of physical talent that both he and Katsuki possess. All Might grew up quirkless just as Deku did, yes, but once he received One for All from Nana in his teens, he took to it just as instinctively and intuitively as Katsuki has taken to his quirk. there was none of the steep learning curve that Deku experienced; OFA came to All Might easily, and he was by all accounts a force of nature during his school years.

the downside of this, however, is that when everything comes easily to you, you start to feel like everything always should. that because you are capable, you need to be capable. you start to build up expectations of yourself that don’t take into account the simple truth that no matter how gifted you are, everybody fails at some point or another. and because you are strong, because you never fail, you never learn how to let yourself rely on other people. you never learn how to ask for help.

and needless to say, this is a terrible, even fatal weakness to have. and what makes it all the more destructive is that this particular weakness is self-perpetuating and feeds into itself. you don’t know how to admit when you need help, and so you never get the help you need. it’s a brutal fucking cycle, and so it’s no wonder that All Might spent years and years and years trying to do everything all alone.

and he lost Nana. his mentor, the woman who was like a mother to him. and that only made matters worse. he lost the person who believed in him and encouraged him, and who understood the burden he was carrying better than anyone else, because she herself had struggled with that same burden. and so the one person he might have been able to reach out to, he ended up losing in the most devastating way possible. and so not only was he heartbroken and traumatized and likely blaming himself, but it also left him more alone than ever before, with the pain of that loss basically ensuring he wouldn’t ever open himself up and let anyone else in again.

and it’s easy to look at the impact of All Might’s downfall at Kamino, and the many shortcomings and vulnerabilities it exposed, and wonder what the hell he was thinking, and to blame him for not recognizing the fragility of the society he helped to build, and for the arrogance of thinking that a lone pillar could support an entire country all on its own and not inevitably come crumbling down. and yes; for all of his goodness and optimism, the notion that All Might had of a lone Symbol of Peace was deeply flawed.

but we learn from our failures. and after decades of struggling to support the world all on his own, All Might finally did fail. and after years of stubbornly trying to fight on anyway in spite of his injuries, he was finally forced to accept that his time was coming to an end, and that he needed to pass on his legacy. and in many ways, his mentoring of Izuku has been as much of a learning process for him as it has been for his protege. 

because for all of the similarities I discussed earlier, there are also ways in which Deku is not like him at all. Deku is used to failure. Deku is not afraid to ask for help. and Deku does naturally what All Might has always struggled to do: he reaches out.

and who does he reach out to? first and foremost, to another boy with whom, as I mentioned, All Might shares all too many similarities.

another boy who’s isolated. another boy who doesn’t know how to ask for help, who is afraid to fail.

All Might understands Katsuki remarkably well right from the start. of course he does; how could he not? and because he is all too aware of the effect that kind of stubborn self-reliance has on a person, he is hesitant at first to reach out to Katsuki in the same way that he does to Izuku. not because of a lack of care or concern, but because he knows -- all too well -- that Katsuki will not accept it. and so instead he takes a different approach with him, trying to guide him while still respecting his pride and stubbornness.

so this is kind of the status quo for them for a while. but now here’s where things finally get interesting. because as All Might’s powers continue to wane, and he’s forced to come to terms with his own weaknesses and to rely more and more on others, he finally begins to see where it was that he went wrong. and as he grows to care more about Izuku, he realizes that he doesn’t want him to have to suffer in the same way that he did.

and during this same time, Katsuki is also starting to go through his own personal journey which includes so many of the same struggles that All Might came up against. everything that comes along with the mindset of thinking you only need to rely on yourself. so here, again, is someone who is so much like All Might was. who is putting the same kind of pressure on himself of thinking that it’s not okay to fail. and who, eventually, also comes to experience the same pain of feeling responsible for the “loss” of someone he admired more than anyone.

and it’s one thing for All Might not to acknowledge his own pain, but it’s quite another to recognize that same pain in someone else. and I think that once he did, he came to the same realization he did with Izuku: that he doesn’t want Katsuki to suffer like he did. see, that’s the thing about being selfless. you’re numb to it while it only affects you. it’s not until you see that same pain affecting someone else that you finally start to realize how fucked up it actually is.

  and so this, fittingly, is what prompts All Might to finally reach out to Katsuki. the realization that Katsuki has been struggling alone, the same as himself. and at the same time, the long-overdue and crucial recognition that the past doesn’t have to be repeated. that he can be there for him, even if he’s still trying to figure out the best way how, and even if he still hasn’t come to terms with the near-identical burdens that he bears himself.

and so Katsuki has now officially gained one (1) Dadmight as well. and so here we have two boys, each a reflection of their beloved hero in their own way. two boys, and one legacy. a legacy which All Might carried proudly, but which nearly ended up destroying him in the end. two boys whose strengths and weaknesses seamlessly complement each other’s. two boys who already share a bond the likes of which All Might himself never had growing up.

the solution is obvious. but more than that, it’s necessary. so that neither of these boys has to go through what he went through. so that neither of them will ever have to fight alone. so that if they fall -- when they fall -- the other one will be there to help them get back up.

Deku has the quirk, but One for All is more than just a quirk. pardon me for getting all sappy, but it’s right there in the name -- One for All. it’s more than a power; it’s the legacy of working together to fight evil. a legacy of inspiring hope in others. and a legacy of never, ever giving up.

that legacy is both of theirs to share. that will is both of theirs to inherit. both Izuku and Katsuki are All Might’s successors. and he takes pride in them both.

and All Might doesn’t love Izuku any less because he is also a mentor to Katsuki. and All Might doesn’t care about Katsuki any less because he also has a close bond with Izuku. and All Might mentoring the one will always also be in the other one’s best interests. because the stronger they become, the stronger they can be for each other.

and they’ll need to be. because one thing All Might does understand all too well is that regardless of whether he lives or dies, he won’t always be able to be there for them.

so do you see? the reason why it’s so important for All Might to mentor them both. to mentor them together. because Katsuki can inspire and support Izuku in ways that All Might can’t. Izuku can reach Katsuki to an extent which All Might cannot. and All Might knows this, and has understood it almost from the start.

in conclusion, there really isn’t and never has been a war for All Might’s affections. Katsuki becoming a part of the squad isn’t forced; it’s foreshadowed. it doesn’t take away from what All Might has with Deku; it’s proof that All Might cares deeply about Deku and is taking steps to secure his future. and for All Might himself, it gives him a new purpose: to be there for these kids, to guide them and continue to support them.

and them coming together shows their growth. it shows how far they’ve come as characters. it’s the culmination of something that has been in the works since the start. All Might has two sons, plain and simple, and debating which one is the favorite child is really missing the entire point. that this is the story of two boys, who grew up admiring the same person.

and the story of how the two of them take that legacy, and make it their own.

together.

anyway that’s my post! if anyone needs me I’ll be sitting here thinking about these boys and how much I love them and their dad, and pondering other comforting topics to write therapeutic essays about.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 78

A BIG THANK YOU TO @thetorturerwrites​ for helping me with the 🥵 part of this chapter. Also warning for smut, and anything bolded in the tags. 

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. | Tag lists are closed | INBOX OPEN

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother, ��but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 78: The End of a War

You walked back into the meeting, without your faithful guard dog. “Now where will we be sending everyone off to,” you ask your newly appointed Chancellor Hux.

“We have some reason to believe there is a Resistance base in the Outer Rim, on this end of the galaxy somewhere in K-5/6 and L-5/6 sectors. We will be sending heavy reinforcements to that region.” Hux seemed to be confident in the intelligence that you were given.

You considered the tactile plan, “I see and what do we think we will be met with?” You weren’t a military mind, but you needed to be sure that they knew what they were doing, they had failed before and failure wasn’t an option now.

Another First Order general spoke up, “Not much, we have already crippled much of their army, with the destruction of their last base and the several New Republic planets. Mostly this will be to finish them off and to now establish authority across the galaxy.” That’s exactly what you wanted to hear, taking control of the galaxy. Soon it would all be yours.

“So are a portion of the troops going to do that? While others face off in battle?” You knew sending all your fleet to one area would not be a wise decision. The Empire had chosen to do something similar in the past, and you weren’t going to be so stupid.

“Yes, I believe that is the best tactic. You have a phrase from your home planet saying ‘not to put all of your eggs in one basket’ and so by making sure we have a proper disbursement of ships across the galaxy we will maintain our authority.” Hux was an expert at trying to bring things to your understanding. He knew you had little background in any of this, and that you trusted him to make the right decisions. It is why he earned his promotion.

You nodded to him, “Good, Lord Ren will join the forces heading to the base, he has an important mission from me, one that he should not be distracted from.” You needed your husband to complete his mission, but more importantly, you needed him to come back in one piece. You wanted there to be no one in his way.

Hux seemed to understand this. “Of course, Empress. We will make sure he sees his task through without any obstacles.”

You left the meeting, Kylo was off fighting for you on some planet someplace in the galaxy. Hux had told you where but you really didn’t care. All you needed to know was that he was ok and that he was taking care of what you sent him for. It had been three days before you heard they were back. You had been doing various things, making sure the Final Order and First Order’s union was going smoothly. One of your staff came and told you that Kylo had requested in some of the interrogation rooms.

Walking down the hall with Ap’lek and Vicrul by your side, you saw officers and 'troopers dodging out of the way. All of them giving you proper salutes and acknowledgments to you as Empress. You made your way down to the interrogation rooms, pausing in front of the doors of the large one.  Entering you saw an interesting sight, four people chained to the floor, the other Knights of Ren along the back wall, Kylo pacing in front of the prisoners, and Hux and Phasma talking in an opposite corner. It looked like a real party. Vicrul and Ap’lek joined their brothers in arms along the back wall. Doing the usual silent communication thing they did.

You looked at Hux and then Kylo before saying, “What do we have here?” You then looked at the four prisoners, who looked pretty worse for wear.

Hux spoke first, you could tell Kylo was still in beast mode as his Force energy wrapped around you protectively. “These are the last known leaders of the Resistance, unfortunately, we lost a few in battle at no fault to anyone.” The man on the left seemed the most rabid of them all, sneering at Hux.

“Why don’t you tell me who our guests are?” You kept your tone rather light, knowing what was to inevitably come.

The man on the left spat up at Hux, who was closest to him. “Guests? So that’s who we are now?” You could hear the venom dripping from his voice.

Hux looked rather unimpressed at the man who was chained down by his feet. “Poe Dameron General of the Resistance, notorious pilot who has killed millions in this war. He is responsible for blowing up Star Killer Base.” The brunette man glared at him before looking at you, you could see Kylo’s body shift towards him as a sign that he should watch his actions.

You point to the next chained prisoner.

“And him?” He seemed much bulkier than the pilot next to him.

“FN-2187,” responded Phasma first.

“My name is Finn,” spat the man.

Hux continued with his debriefing, “FN-2187 is a General of the Resistance. A defective stormtrooper traitor who has killed his own brothers and sisters in battle. He is partially responsible for the destruction of Star Killer Base.”

“And her?” You pointed to the next prisoner.

“Rose Tico, chief engineer of the Resistance. She and her family fought against the First Order when we annexed her homeworld, and she was crucial to the evacuation of the old resistance base.” Hux seemed rather displeased in particular with her.

“And what about them?” You pointed to the last prisoner.

“Noor Abdallah, a chief information officer of the Resistance. They have foiled many of our attacks by intercepting communications between ships, they helped with the destruction of Star Killer Base.” So this was Carter’s match? A Resistance fight, someone Carter had been dreaming about for years. Someone who now seemed to waste their life before they ever got a chance to meet their other half.

You stepped back for a moment watching your husband pace in front of them. They seemed to regard him as a higher status than you. Something he was not.

FN-2187 pleaded to him, “Rey wouldn’t have wanted this.” Rose seemed to agree.

“You think I cared for the Scavenger? I killed her.” So they thought she could be a bargaining chip to reason with the beast? She held no candle to you, you were the Empress, and she was a dead sand rat. You were his match, and she was nothing.

Poe now seemed to reason with him,  “Leia wouldn’t have wanted you to do this.”

“And what do you know of my mother? She sacrificed herself to save me and her. You know nothing.” Bringing up his mother was a terrible decision on his part. What good did this pilot think he was doing? Did he really think he knew his mother better than he did? Ignorant and cocky is a dead man’s wish.

You were sick and tired of the prisoners ignoring your presence. “So these are some of the people who have outsmarted the First Order for so long?”

Hux responded in kind, “Dameron’s a damn good pilot and FN-2187 was trained as one of our own and was once very promising.” It was noted to you that he did not speak of the others at this point, you wonder just how many squabbles the two men had won against the First Order before you arrived.

You kept your voice aloof, “I see. It’s a shame they choose the wrong outcome in life don’t you think? Working for the Resistance, harboring chaos, defying me? What do you think my love?”

This caught Kylo’s attention, you could see he was shaking with anticipation and power. He wanted blood and now you would let him have it.

“Kill the pilot, the traitor, and the girl. As for Noor, send them to reconditioning, and then to Earth, there is someone there that doesn’t deserve to lose them just yet. Maybe they will reconsider unwise life decisions from now on.” You saved their life for your former friend Carter. You weren’t all heartless, but you knew whoever sided with the Resistance would still call you that. When your back was turned to head out of the room, you heard the crackle of Kylo’s lightsaber and the sound of bodies hitting the floor, you didn’t stick around to see the aftermath, rather you chose to go back to your quarters to prepare the treat you had promised him.

When you arrived you headed immediately to the bedroom where you pulled it out of a closet and laid it on the bed. While he was away, you had asked Vicrul and Ap’lek to fetch it from wherever he had chosen to hide it. It wasn’t a toy for you, but for him. Something to tame the beast for a short time. Something clad in tight black leather that the knights seemed to be fond of. You don’t know if Adlez had sparked the idea within them or if it was something they already enjoyed that she was the perfect outlet to share it with. But the present came with a little accessory, a black riding crop, something to instill obedience within the beast.

You had a newfound confidence that paired nicely with your new ego, your new self. You heard the door to your chambers open and the rush of booted footsteps. He was eager to see where you were, to receive his treat. He entered the bedroom with his helmet on, something you hadn’t considered before, but something to possibly explore at a later time. With the crop in your hand, you ordered, “Strip.”

The helmet came off first with a thud to the floor, his eyes fixated on the instrument in your hand. You could feel his desire pooling around you with the Force, his protection bubble revealing his underlying moods and wants. You watched his eyes grow dark as he obeyed your command, his breathing deepening and his arousal evident. You could tell that the beast was underneath the surface. Once he obeyed your command, you made a simple order again, “Kneel.”

He was already half-hard and growing more erect by the second. You stepped closer to him, his eyes followed you wildly, like a predator watching its prey. You leaned down next to his ear and said, “Now, I believe I promised you a treat for all your hard work. Your knights were so kind as to deliver me our wedding present. I think it’s high time we use it don’t you think? I think my beast deserves it.” You watched his body ripple with pleasure, trying to contain himself, trying to obey your orders.

You grabbed the toy off the bed, “Lean forward.” If it was anyone else, you would have had them lean against the bed for support, but he was just that, a beast. His strength could hold him for however long you needed him in a certain position, his monstrous strength and resilience would make sure of that. The black leather hugged his arms beautifully as you strapped him in and tied him up, the binder allowing you to have full control of the situation at hand. He still had the Force of course, but he seemed less inclined to use it now. Not wanting to disobey you. He was leaning into your touch, desperate for your warmth.

You took one look at him all tied up and were satisfied. “On the bed, on your knees, back to the headboard.” The beast was going to get some training today before you let him free. He scrambled to obey, and he was a sight to behold. He was now fully erect but frustrated at the lack of friction. He moved into the spot you wanted him in. Over the last few days, you put in a simple work order, you needed a few anchors put in the wall. One on each side of the bed and one in the middle for this exact purpose. You grabbed a sturdy chain and hooked it to the anchor and then to the ring in the binder. This would not hold him if he chose to go completely feral, but if he obeyed you, it would serve its purpose. Now your guard dog was chained up, and you were just about ready to let the beast loose.

He tested the chain, as you slowly and teasingly stripped in front of him. The beast wanted to touch you, to take you, but right now you were too far away for that to happen. “Does the beast want a taste?” This earned a snarl in reply. His eyes were wild, and his body was vibrating. You moved in closer. You brought the riding crop against his cheek, the only form of contact between you two at the moment. He wasn’t pleased as he bit the end of it, “Now, now, only good little attack dogs get their treats.” He let go of the crop which you then lightly whacked against his cock, earning a yelp and a thrust of his hips. But he didn’t seem to dislike it as you watched his lower ab muscles clench and his cock twitch. He looked like a wild chained up animal.

You moved in closer, but just out of reach, even though his hands were behind his back you wanted there to be distance yet. “Now are you going to be a good little guard dog and obey me or will you need to be punished some more?” The snarl you received seemed to encourage you to keep punishing him. You randomly whacked him in the abs, ass, thighs, face, and cock for a bit. You could see the pleasure rippling through his body, and the occasional moans of pleasure supported that. You rubbed the head of his cock with the tip of the crop, spreading the pre-cum around. After a few more hits to the dick, he came with a force. His seed covering both of your chests and stomachs. You then wrapped your arms around him and ordered him to clean you up.

The pleasure you received from giving his punishment and his attention and sucking of your breasts, got you close to the edge. You were enjoying everything as much as he did as you leaned back away from him and finished yourself off. On display for him, with your fingers buried in your own cunt. You could hear the chain creak as he pulled against it, wanting so desperately to touch you. But you came too fast to allow that. Once you caught your breath you stared up at him. He was struggling against the hold, desperate for you. You got up and brought your fingers to his lips, allowing him to clean them off before you ordered him to move back on the bed. “Clean me up.” You watched as he eagerly obeyed. His tongue, lips, nose, and teeth buried into your folds cleaning up your fresh juices. The beast loved to nip at the tender flesh, whereas Kylo just kissed and sucked, both had their advantages, but right now it was the beast’s turn.

Once you were confident that you were cleaned up, and that he was just eating you out now you ordered him to stop. Which seemed like it was difficult for him to obey but he did reluctantly. “Stay put.” You got up and moved behind him, propping yourself up on pillows. “Turn around.” He looked wild as he followed orders. The beast was waiting. You spread your legs open for him. His re-hardened cock twitched at the sight, you watched him breathe in and out jaggedly, attempting to keep what little control he had.

You swallowed back your own desire as you commanded, “I want your cock.” That seemed to flip the switch. Even though his arms were chained up behind him, the power of his hips was enough to cause you to scream his name. He thrust deep and hard into you, the beast giving his full power as he relentlessly pounded into you. The grunts, groans, moans, and growls filled the air as the sound of skin slapping filled the room. He bit and sucked at any flesh he could get, marking you up. It didn’t take long for both of your orgasms to crash together. He let out some sort of howl as he did, his name being screamed on your lips. For a few minutes, the beast seemed satisfied.

You struggled to get up, now wanting to unrestrain him so you would at least have one round with him free. He snarled at you as you tried to get up, thinking you were leaving him there. “No, I want to let the good guard dog go. So he can have some freedom.” Your fingers trembled as you removed the straps and undid the ties. You couldn’t really feel your lower body anymore, but you could feel the empty sensation of him not being inside of you. Once he was free it took only a few seconds for him to grab you and slam you back down on the bed. His feral side took over as he aggressively took you again. This time his thrusts hand more purchase as he was able to hold on to you, and the headboard. His hands occasionally groped your breast but they mostly were buried into the meat of your ass.

He filled you up completely, taking no pause as to fuck you deep and hard. The beast is using his full power now. You had promised him a treat and now your tight cunt was delivering it to him. If someone were to walk in on you now, they would probably think a wild animal was fucking you, but it was him. Holding you down, taking you as his own prize. Your breasts are barely able to bounce properly to meet the speed of his thrusts. All you could do was moan like a desperate whore at his deep hard pounding. He locked on to your g-spot and didn’t give up even after you orgasmed. He was looking for two for one as he continued his unrelenting pace. Which he was granted as you finally came together, being filled with his fire you felt completed.

He collapsed on top of you, seeming to hog all of your personal space, completely wrapping around you. It felt protective and possessive as he seemed to use the last of his energy to cover you in kisses. You fed your beast with your own pleasure. He was sated for now. You were now the Empress to the galaxy, and he won that for you.

A/N: Let me know what you think? Two more chapters after this. 

[jeremys-blogs]

Aravos: A Better Sauron?

If a show is going to be given praise like "the next Avatar", then it's safe to say that it's got some lofty expectations to live up to. Thankfully, Netflix's Dragon Prince has thus far managed to impress with it's three seasons. Is it indeed as good as the epic Nickelodeon show? It's hard to say, but I am certainly enjoying what I've seen of it, and with rumours of further seasons coming I'm definitely looking forward to more of its world and, more importantly, its characters. And characters are exactly what I want to discuss here today. Or, to be more specific, one character in particular. Aravos, an Elf who, despite only making his appearance from the second season onwards, has slowly worked his way to becoming pretty much the main antagonist of the entire show. While not being much in terms of a physical presence, he has nevertheless made a massive impact on the events of the story, having served as a man-behind-the-man to the show's initial villain, Viren. And given how the show's third season ended, it's pretty clear that the creators of this wonderful story have a lot planned for this guy, so only time will tell exactly what we'll be seeing from him in future.

But as I was re-watching some episodes of the show, something occurred to me. Aravos, and the way he acts and makes his plans happen, are a perfect representation of how I always imagined the character of Sauron from Lord of the Rings to be. Now, a little context. In the years leading up to the famed LOTR trilogy by Peter Jackson, there was a wave of revived Tolkien appreciation here in the UK, and I, who was just about twelve at the time, was encouraged to seek out and read the original book trilogy. So I found them, read them in a couple of weeks, and absolutely feel in love with Tolkien's works, followed by me reading and loving any other Tolkien books I could find. When the films came out, I was as hyped as you could imagine, eager to see all of these characters I had come to adore so much. And like so many others, I felt that Jackson didn't disappoint. The films, to this day, remain some of my all-time favourites, and a rightly-regarded high point in the history of cinema. However, despite that praise, there was one point about the film that, to this day, I've never been entirely satisfied, and that was the portrayal of the story's main antagonist, the Dark Lord Sauron.

Now, don't take this to mean that I think that Jackson gave us a bad interpretation of this baddie, because that's far from the truth. After all, these films do a great job of selling us on the idea that terrible things will happen if this guy wins the day, and that look of his, both his awesome armour and the now-iconic fiery eye are now etched into pop culture forever for good reason. In terms of making a terrifying far-away evil overlord, Jackson and his team did a fantastic job. However, as someone who was virtually marinated in Tolkien stories by the time the movies came out, I couldn't help but be disappointed at seeing that they'd rather under-selled what was, to me, the most interesting aspects of his character. Namely, that this wasn't just someone who wielded great power and was an intimidating presence, but that he was also someone who possessed great cunning, intelligence and a terrifying ability to coerce people into doing bad things. He wasn't just a conqueror, he was a schemer, a tempter, a being who understood people and what they desired, offering them exactly what they wanted or what they wanted to hear in order to ultimately benefit himself above all. And while Jackson's interpretation was good, those aforementioned qualities never really stood out in the films.

Now, I realise that comparing a relative newcomer to fiction like Aravos to a famous literary villain like Sauron is no easy thing, and it's made all the harder when you consider that there's actually very little we know about the former so far. But what we have learned about him is quite telling. First and foremost, he is imprisoned for the entirety of Dragon Prince thus far, and is only able to interact with others either through a magic mirror or through ghostly images of himself. Where his prison is, we don't know, only that he was put there hundreds of years ago by Avizandum, the late King of the dragons. As for his crimes, again that's unknown, but the show has hinted that he might have some connection to humanity's first acquisition and practice of dark magic. And if that's true then it's especially damning as it was an act which ultimately led the Elves to see humans as dangerous, and was the inciting incident that caused the two races to be at odds with one another. He's also known to have little love for his own kind, as he not only helps humans to war against them, but in the few instances we've seen Elves become aware of him, they have been utterly terrified of him.

At this point, anyone who has ever gone deep into Tolkien's writings will likely know exactly where I'm going with this, as this admittedly-incomplete picture of Aravos is starting to sound remarkably similar to the official backstory of Sauron. He too was a being of great power whose actions led to him falling out of favour with a higher power, and he too has been reduced to a situation where he can no longer interact with others, having to rely on agents and underlings to see his will enacted. They both have a historic conflict with Elves and, both in the past and the present, have a career in manipulating humankind to go down dark and self-destructive paths. Granted, the details will certainly differ, but in the broad strokes their backstories are close to identical. Now, this is all with the understanding that Dragon Prince hasn't actually finished yet. There are still many questions surrounding Aravos and his motivations, so it's entirely possible that, when more light gets shed on him, all of this will be completely wrong on my part. But as things stand right now, with us knowing what we do, there can be no denying that both he and Sauron have a lot in common.

However, while they may have similarities, they are incredibly different in their execution, as my earlier words probably gave away. Sauron, and not just in Jackson's adaptations but in virtually all on-screen versions of him, has had a lot of his more manipulative tendencies tones down. Now, in all fairness, those traits were never at the forefront of his character at the time of the LOTR books, but even so, a massive reason why he has as many followers as he does is because of his role as a deceiver. We can of course assume here that he's lying and tricking people off-screen, but as in all things it's always better to show and not tell. We're told that he's out there doing bad things, but that will never be as effective as witnessing him doing it with our own eyes. However, by contrast, Aravos is very much doing his thing while we're seeing him. Every piece of advice or subtle nudge in this or that direction is something we're witnessing first-hand, and since these manipulations are something that has, as of the latest episodes, managed to effectively grant him an entire army to wreak havoc with, I'd say he's as good at his job as Sauron supposedly was. So, if nothing else, we at least now Aravos has successfully managed to be a more prominent presence in his respective fantasy story.

Once again, I must clarify that I do not feel that Jackson and the other people behind the LOTR films did a bad job of recreating what Sauron was said to be in the books. They set out to create an iconic and intimidating fantasy overlord and by God they made one. Their films have stood the test of time and are rightly remembered by millions across the world. But if I'm going to be bare-my-soul honest about this, when I look back, I was genuinely expecting this world-ending foe to be more of a presence, more of a direct hand in the events than he ultimately was. He's still a good villain, even a great one, but to this day I still hope to one day see a version of Sauron that's what I thought I'd get after I read the books all those years ago. And Aravos, to be perfectly blunt, is pretty much exactly what I was hoping for in terms of that type of enemy for our heroes to face. Dragon Prince, much like Avatar before it, has done wonderfully in creating a remarkable cast of characters, good and bad alike, and Aravos is certainly top tier when it comes to the latter category. Where they ultimately go with him and the story as a whole is anyone's guess, but for this moment I am thoroughly looking forward to seeing more of this mysterious shoulder-devil of an Elf.

[loyalflutist]

Marriage (F!Byleth x Edelgard)

Challenge: Edeleth Twitter Week (09/29/2019 - 10/05/2019)  Day 7: Marriage

A/N: WHEW, finally done with it! This has to be the fluffiest piece I’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy this final ride!

---

Hardships were inevitable in a person’s life. No matter how cautious one can be, they were bound to succumb to difficulties. Everyone had gone through it once in their lifetime. From rich to poor, from nobility to commoner, from allies to enemies, everyone experienced hardships.

Many hands motioned towards the students from the monastery. How terrible! They were fated to clash with one another from the near future! Not a single person would agree with their beliefs and course of action. Edelgard wished to unite Fodlan and eliminate the corrupted Church’s power. Dimitri wished to defend the Church and land from his archnemesis, Edelgard. Claude strived to gain a middle ground between the two nobles, his focus entirely on the background noise. Their struggles landed them into a deadlock for five slow years. There was no end in sight.

Until Byleth came into the picture.

Something about her seems different though. It was as if… she can’t trust all three of them. Not yet, anyway. Shudders ran down all the students’ spine at the sight of the ex-mercenary. The aura she possessed when she first met them shook their core. Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude were ones mostly terrified by her.

“Don’t… you think she’s literally changed overnight?” Claude scratched the back of his head, his dark hues were shifty. “I swear she wasn’t this grumpy.”

“Grumpy? Don’t be silly,” Dimitri shook his head. “She’s always worn the same expression when we first met last night.”

“No no, you don’t understand, Dimitri. She may look the same, but she’s acting strange.”

“I think you need to have your eyes checked.”

“Um, no. How about you get your eyes checked.”

“Wha— How rude of you!”

And… so the two males began to wrestle with one another in hopes of dominating their points with one another. If there was one thing they shared, it was their stubborn nature. Then again, the three lords from the three houses shared this trait. Not even Edelgard was spared from it. The white-haired loudly sighed, placing a hand on her forehead, and felt a bead of sweat run down the side of her face.

“How immature.”

Still… Claude wasn’t wrong. There was something off about Byleth. The ex-mercenary was recently granted a position as a professor for the students. It was abrupt, but to be expected from Lady Rhea. (Though it caught Jeralt by surprise.) What was most shocking was the fact that Byleth chose to teach not just the Black Eagle’s house, but the Blue Lions and Golden Deer too. A deal was struck between Manuela and Hanneman the instant she greeted them.

“You’re telling me that you want to rotate our shifts?” Hanneman raised his brows. “Won’t that place a burden on you, Professor Byleth?”

Manuela crossed her arms as the two teachers heard Byleth out. They nodded their head slowly, their eyes widened.

“My… If that’s the case, then I don’t see why not.”

The rest of the conversation was a mystery to the peeping students. Hubert, Ashe, Lorenz, and Cyril could not help but try to gather intel about the newcomer at the main hall with Rhea. Unfortunately, that was all they could get from their exchange. Their voice ushered into mumbles and faint whispers. The only way they would be able to capture the rest of the story was to stand directly behind them. Of course, their covers would be beyond blown. The four of them scampered away in disappointment.

“The professor is a strange one…” Edelgard mumbled to herself.

She retracted her hand and glanced to her right. Ah— There was Byleth. She was fast approaching them in the field right outside of their lecture halls. Maybe a little too fast as it seems like a vicious sprint. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest at the terrifying sight. (Was there a dash prompt for the instructor?!) If Byleth doesn’t brake early enough, she might crash into them! Before Edelgard could open her mouth to holler a warning, the older woman immediately skidded to a stop. Then, she grabbed ahold of the noble’s hands.

“I… I will save— save you.”

“?!”

Out of breath, Byleth stared into the future emperor’s eyes. The intensity nearly caused the noble to collapse onto her knees and kneel before the warrior. Yet she managed to keep her legs from becoming wobbly. Edelgard placed great emphasis on her blinking as she bit the bottom of her lip.

“U-Um, I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply.”

“Don’t worry. I promise I won’t let them hurt you anymore,” Byleth squeezed her hands. She vigorously nodded her head in hopes of proving her worth. “I’ll save everyone, and I will save you.”

What was she trying to say? Has she gone mad? Edelgard felt her heart clench as she tried to formulate a theory or two about this particular response. Save her… It doesn’t seem to be about anything physical. Metaphorically? Perhaps, but there must be more… The noble’s jawlines became prominent as she settled for a conclusion. Byleth couldn’t have meant… Those Who Slither in the Dark and the Church of Seiros, right? If she recalls, Jeralt had confessed that he kept the world of politics away from his daughter as much as possible. She wouldn’t have been able to acknowledge the existence of one of these organizations until now.

Right?

Well, how wrong Edelgard was. When she put on the mask of the Flame Emperor, the young lady was unable to carry out her plan. Every single plan she articulated and meticulously drawn out was obliterated by none other than Byleth. However, she was not the only one to be affected. The Church of Seiros seemed to be struggling to move forward with their plans for the new professor. Those Who Slither in the Dark were left scrambling for anything to revitalize their next move in a losing battle.

There were also positive events of the three houses and their members. All three of them were forced to band together as comrades due to their professors’ rotations in shifts. Their curriculums were replicas between the classrooms, so there weren’t any differences in teaching methods. This was accompanied by their weekly field trips for practical battles led by Shamir, Catherine, and Byleth. Relationships that were strained had mended over the months. Fractured bonds healed after the individuals finally sat down to communicate. Edelgard found herself joining hands with Claude and Dimitri once their beliefs aligned.

“Whatever it is, let’s talk it out… together.”

Dimitri chuckled. “Well spoken, my friend. I would never expect to hear that from you.”

“Hey… give me some credit, will ya?” he crossed his arms behind his head and winked. “I’m the brain in the group.”

Edelgard could not resist a giggle, her mouth covered.

“So long as we help each other, I find no issue in that.”

“See? Even our little princess understands our roles.”

“Claude…”

“What? Cat’s caught your tongue?”

And so, their bickering continued. They were so childish, Edelgard wondered if she was the third wheel with their relationship. It was amusing. Perhaps she did not think so hard about staying on the sideline as her heart had already belonged to a certain someone; their teacher. It was a relationship that sowed the seed one evening.

Byleth teetered into the wrong dormitory during the third month of the academic year. She stumbled into the premise of none other than the Adrestian Empire’s princess. Edelgard, who had been reading her tactical textbook, was alarmed at the abrupt appearance of the older woman.

“B-Byleth?”

“How ya doin’?”

The speech was slurred, cheeks were flushed, and eyes were droopy. Edelgard immediately got up from her chair. Byleth was drunk. She had to catch the drowsy female the moment she lurched forward. Oh, what did her professor do now? Was she so stressed that she had to rely on alcohol? Concern riddled her mind as the young student patiently guided her teacher to her mattress. Byleth didn’t waste any second to plop on the bed. She was just like a child… and even more so when her hand latched onto Edelgard’s arm.

“I wanna hug you.”

“…”

“Pwease?”

“…okay.”

Edelgard sighed loudly. She had to admit defeat. Otherwise, Byleth would never let go of her and would never drop the puppy eyes. This was so out of character for the ex-mercenary. Emotions that were rarely conveyed on her features were still there, but the intonation from her spoken dialogues was dripping with them. Should the other students catch a whiff of her demeanor, they would likely rush out and call for an exorcist! Edelgard pursed her lips.

The two eventually went under the covers. One in their loungewear, the other simply stripped of her large overcoat. A strong, musky scent of the fruity product wafted from her instructor’s direction. The noble firmed her lips and began to pat on Byleth’s head like a little kid. This seemed to please the older female. As a result, Byleth instantly flopped onto her side and cuddled up to Edelgard.

“I love you so much, Edie~”

“#@#$&@!”

That was the seed that had been planted. Though Byleth had apologized for her inept and shameful actions the next day, Edelgard could not forget the confession that slipped out of her drunken professor, even if Byleth had no recollection. It started out as a crush… and soon developed into a stronger form of it. The transition soon slithered into a one-sided love that would rival most anybody’s romantic self-destructive fantasies. Had it not been for Claude and Dimitri, she wouldn’t have the guts to face Byleth with a confession.

“I love you, my teacher. I love you so much.”

Rejection never occurred. The proof was evidenced by their current standing. Byleth and Edelgard whispered sweet nectar to each other’s ears, their hands roamed their bare figures at night, and sensitive flesh brushing upon their neck for plantation of hickeys. Physical affections were simply a bonus to their powerful bonds with one another. Their love transcends beyond normal comprehension.

All these activities and events had all occurred during their time as students. It was as if Byleth had incredible luck… No— that wasn’t right. It was as if she could predict the future. Her uncanny ability to nail everyone’s next move down to the grittier details frightened the house leaders and archbishop. Even her girlfriend could not help but wonder what wisdom had possessed Byleth. If her secret identity’s activities were hindered by the ex-mercenary… and her enemies were unable to gather their fractured plans… What was Byleth up to?

Unfortunately, the only thing that remained on course was Byleth’s five-year disappearance.

“BYLETH!!!”

Three of the house leaders, joined side-by-side, screamed out her name when Lady Rhea slammed her staff into the teal-haired. Its metallic cane might have a simple blunt weapon. A single smack from it would likely bring about no more than a bruise. But most everyone had forgotten the incredible strength that possessed the archbishop. Trained in martial arts to the finest level, the amount of energy input into the swing crashed heavily into Byleth’s chest.

CRACK!

Its impact produced an audible sound above the raging flames. Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri widened their eyes when their professor was tossed backward. The Adrestian Empire’s newly crowned emperor caught her girlfriend. Dimitri rushed to the front to protect the two and flicked his lance downward; Claude standing by Dimitri with his arrow pulled back on his bow.

“You’ll pay for that, Lady Rhea!” Dimitri howled as he sprinted forward. “DIE!”

“Tch.”

Claude would normally say something witty, but he had to agree with Dimitri’s violent nature for once. Rhea would pay for her crime in harming their teacher. Arrows soon flew alongside the running male as they made their way towards the archbishop.

As for Edelgard, she frantically examined her lover’s injuries. Scratches and bruises that littered her exposed skin held nothing to the caved-in chest. Blood seeped out of the corner of Byleth’s mouth non-stop. The bent metallic armored chest plate only served to worsen the damages. Dedue and Hilda arrived to assist in the tearing of the mangled exterior.

“Please, don’t die on us!” Edelgard’s hands brightened light green over her girlfriend’s chest.

Hilda stiffened her upper lip, got up onto her feet, and twirled the axe in one hand. “I’m going to help Claude.”

“I will assist my lord too,” Dedue muttered and followed a similar action as the pink-haired. “Lady Edelgard, please take care of our professor. She needs you more than ever.”

The two were not cruel to leave her behind. Their intentions were simple: to give her privacy to tend to Byleth. Besides, they were not healers. Standing around in midst of the battlefield like gawking ducks would only burden everyone else. In conjunction with their leave, Marianne, Linhardt, and Mercedes quickly joined Edelgard.

“My goodness, the shattered bones might’ve pierced her heart…” Linhardt mumbled, his words leaked with gravity. “We’ll have to use as much white magic as possible to mend her wounds, lest it be too late.”

“I… wouldn’t want that to happen.”

“Let’s do it together then, Marianne.”

Mercedes, Lindhardt, and Marianne hovered their hands above the laying warrior. The green light illuminated to another level of brightness. Sweat glimmered on their foreheads as they exerted as much energy as possible into their spells. Edelgard found it difficult to catch up to their conduction as she was hardly trained in the arts of white magic beyond emergency first-aids. This went on for nearly five whole minutes. The ground occasionally shook from the conflict. Dimitri and Claude were occupied with Rhea. Shamir had managed to dissuade Catherine from staying with the Church. Hilda and Dedue backed up their lords. The other students were slashing and exterminating the soldiers that dare to send them into the afterlife.

“…El…”

Hearing her name quietly whispered snapped her attention to the professor. Evident bags laid under Byleth’s slit eyes as she reached up to touch Edelgard’s face. The white-haired immediately grabbed ahold of it. She nuzzled into her palm, tears threatening to flow.

“You’re alive…”

“…I’m… sleepy…”

Oh no. Oh no no no! This cannot be happening! Those words flashed warning signs at the three healers, their brows furrowed and efforts amplified. They cannot lose Byleth! They absolutely cannot lose Byleth!

“El… I love you.”

Those were her last words before she fell into a deep slumber.

Suffice to say, her slumber was not permanent. The battle had ended with victory on their side. However, the three lords were forced to remain on the monastery’s ground for the sake of their sleeping teacher. Thanks to Linhardt, Marianne, and Mercedes, their teacher’s lives were saved. The extensive damaged that gnawed at her still-heart was too much to bear consciously. Its healing process would have to take place during her dark phase.

They frequently checked in on her. Edelgard was always spending every moment of her spare time by her girlfriend’s side. She would change her clothes, bathe her, kiss her forehead, and speak about stories of the day she spent as if Byleth were her diary. This went on for five years. Once Byleth had awakened, the clock resume and all of the students and staff were prepared to end the deadlocked battle between them and the Church of Seiros.

Victory was in their hands. The Crests were gone, Byleth had survived the ordeal with a new beating heart, and everyone celebrated their survival in this cruel war. They were in this together, and they were no major casualties on their ends.

“…remember when I told you that I would save you?”

“Yes?”

Edelgard turned to look at her fiancée. They were seated on the edge of a low cliff, their legs dangling barely above the grassy patch of the field. Retirement was already in progress in the vast scene now that the ex-noble had given her title to a suitable match. Many of the alumni had gone off to conduct their own businesses. Some got married, some engaged in social justice, some continued to serve their lords, and some simply met the same fate as Edelgard and settled for a simpler lifestyle. As for Dimitri and Claude, they kept their royal titles. The world had moved onward to a better pathway. What more could everyone ask for?

Byleth glanced over to Edelgard.

“I… have a confession to make.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Well… the truth is, I’ve been in timelines where you had died.”

“Really? That’s hard to believe.”

“It’s the truth. Byleth shook her head. “The same could be said for everyone. Everyone had met their demise in the other timelines.”

“So… you’re telling me that you came from the future?”

“I suppose you can say that.”

The explanation was far simpler than one might expect: Sothis and the ability of Divine Pulse. After going through the traumatic events of watching everyone die, Sothis pitied her host and strengthened the time-reversal skill. An option to start right back to the beginning. It was an option Byleth desperately needed. Through trial and error… and plenty of heartbreaks and insanity that plagued the professor, she finally achieved the perfect ending. That led to Sothis finally resting in peace inside of Byleth, never to emerge from her slumber.

In comes present-time, the two stood side-by-side in front of their small cottage. Many of their friends and allies arrived at an isolated location. It was a rare treat to have this many people bustling before them. Even Claude and Dimitri took time off to stop by. Then again, today was a special day. This would be the day they would get married, and everyone was filled with glee for their official commitment. (“Finally!” as Dorothea would bellow in the background.)

Byleth adjusted her white collar. Dressed in a tuxedo, she played the role of the male figure in this holy event. (Besides, she was far more comfortable wearing pants for this occasion.) The final smoothing of her attire in front of the mirror was complete. She glanced over her shoulders within the living room and called out to her lover.

“El, are you ready?”

Edelgard, in her white dress, peeked out from the corner of the room. She slowly approached her professor. A genuine blush tickled her cheeks and nearly blended in with the make-up done by Manuela and Dorothea. The ex-royal figure nodded.

“I’m ready.”

They exchanged a peck on the lips, knowing that the real deal that would seal their future would be coming soon. The anticipation kicked their heartbeats into a new speed. Smiles plastered on their face, their hands were glued together as they turned to the open doorway.

It was time. Through the hardships they went through, through the tears and grief they went through, through the pain and anguish they went through, they finally got their happy ending. And they were together till the end of time.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Shadowhunters 3x11 Post-Script

So... I liked the episode a lot, but I felt really mixed feelings about Alec and Jace's Parabatai moment. Sure, it's sweet to see Alec caring for him, but I also felt like maybe Alec's tactic here was a bit harsh. But then I tried to think about everything going on from Alec's perspective, and I wrote a little something to help me process my feelings over this scene. I want to be clear that I don't agree with what Alec said to Jace, and I hope I've made it clear that his anger is misplaced. It's a selfish reaction in the way I've imagined it, but I don't think it's fair to de-legitimize anyone's emotions in such a difficult situation. I hope that even when Clary comes back, the rest of the gang helps Jace, Simon, Magnus, and... well, really, everyone process their pain and deal with their challenges. (Fat chance we'll get to see it play out in the show to a satisfying degree, but I guess that's what fandom is for!)

"By the way, how did that talk with Jace go?" Magnus asked later that night.

Alec sighed, feeling a headache mount up behind his eyes. And he'd been so relaxed just a second ago. "I don't know. I mean, I think I accomplished my goal, anyway."

Magnus was silent for a moment. Alec knew that his boyfriend could recognize that tone in his voice, and he also knew that Magnus was annoyingly good at getting Alec to spill without having to say a word himself.

"I don't think we're in danger of Jace trying to kill himself," Alec said bluntly. That, after all, had to be the top priority. The rest could wait. Pulling Jace out of this dark hole of depression wasn't going to be easy, and the whole thing would be useless if Jace decided he was done living in utter despair and checked out before they could get him help. "But I think I really screwed up that conversation."

"How so?" Magnus prompted gently.

"I... well, I went for the guilt angle. I didn't mean to, I swear. I was going to be all gentle and kind, and then..."

"What?"

"He brushed me off! And then when I pressed him, he told me I should have killed him to save Clary." The words made Alec's blood boil with anger even now, hours later, and he took a couple of deep breaths to cool off before continuing. "So I tried to make him feel like shit about dishonoring Clary's memory, and about wasting the risk and sacrifice we all went through, and when he just kept on staring at me I... I made it about myself. I told him what losing him would do to me. And I could tell that's the one thing that was getting through to him, so maybe I did right, but I just feel... I feel like I'm failing him again."

Alec hadn't been looking at Magnus while speaking. It was always difficult to confront those understanding eyes when he was in the middle of feeling sorry for himself. But, as was generally the case, Magnus knew how to force the issue. He sat up in the bed and shifted around so he was sitting in front of Alec, straddling his legs but sitting far enough away that their faces were a foot apart. "Alec, listen to me. Are you listening?"

"Yeah."

"You're not failing him. Jace is going through unimaginable pain right now. He's not thinking clearly. And if he's not thinking clearly, then neither are you. You're scared for him, and that's alright. The important thing is to let him know you'll be there always - no matter what."

Alec let himself be comforted for a moment, staring into those eyes he loved so much. He lifted his hand and brushed it along the side of Magnus' face, feeling gratified when Magnus leaned in to the touch almost by instinct. "I appreciate the encouragement," he said finally, his words a little croaky. "But the truth is, as much as I'm worried about Jace, as much as he's scaring me right now, I'm also - I'm also angry with him, and I can't..." he looked down, feeling a lump in his throat. "I can't help it, I know it's not fair of me to make all of this about me, but how could he - how could he be thinking about - " he hadn't been aware that he'd started crying until Magnus rose himself up and wrapped his arms around Alec, pressing him close and making comforting shushing noises into his hair.

They sat like that for a while, Magnus wrapped around Alec, Alec's face pressed into Magnus' bare shoulder. Eventually, Alec took a deep breath, then another, letting his body relax into the embrace. He was surprised to find that he wasn't done talking about this, even after the somewhat cathartic crying. Saying it all out loud and being met with only love and understanding was actually helping him. "I try to put myself in his shoes," Alec said. "I can't even imagine it, Magnus, what it would feel like for me if I lost you. I don't even like thinking about it. And that's what Jace is going through. My Parabatai lost the love of his life, and there's nothing I can do to help him."

"And on top of that," Magnus pointed out, a hint of his reasoned tone firming up under the sympathy, "he's dealing with the consequences of hurting people while possessed. I know you've got some idea of what that's like as well."

Alec nodded, dully. "I know. And it sucked. And after what I did to Jocelyn, I felt like giving up. I was miserable, and self-destructive, all of that. And Jace tried to be there for me, and I didn't want to let him at first. I can see what this is like from the other side, and I know he's in pain. But..." Alec wasn't sure if voicing the next part out loud was going to hurt Magnus' feelings. He wasn't sure if saying it would make the situation better or worse. But he'd come this far, and he found that he wanted to voice it, damn the consequences. "Magnus, I would never, never be willing to die, I would never think about killing myself, as long as Jace was still alive."

There's an unspoken second half to that statement, that if Jace was dead, Alec's state of mind might have been quite different. Alec could almost hear Magnus realize this, tense himself to discuss it, and then let it drop away for another time.

Alec continued - "If I died, I know what it would do to Jace, because I felt it myself when Jace died at Lake Lyn. And even if I hadn't felt it personally, I... I know what losing me would do to him, and I love him too much to ever put him through that. The physical pain alone was unbearable, and the rest of it is just... it's too terrible to think about. But he was thinking about it. He was really - he was in such a bad place that he thought about taking his own life, and he wasn't thinking about me at all. Does it make me a monster if I'm angry with him for it?"

Magnus was quiet for so long this time that Alec wondered with a spark of fear if he'd crossed a line, if Magnus was disgusted with him for his selfishness. But finally, slowly, Alec felt Magnus raise his head to press a kiss against Alec's forehead, and his boyfriend's voice came to him, a balm of benediction.

"You love Jace. He knows you love him. And for now, Alexander, that's going to have to be enough to get on with. You'll talk to him again tomorrow. You'll make sure he knows you're here to support him. And when you feel yourself feeling angry at everything that's happened, you'll come home and you'll rant and rave to me, or to Izzy, or whoever you want, and then you'll go back to Jace and you'll do it all over again, until one day things don't seem so bleak."

"You make it sound easy," Alec said, trying to shake off the wobble in his voice.

"On the contrary, It'll be extremely difficult and painful. But I know you, and you're more than up for the task."

Alec wasn't sure if he could believe him, all things considered. He was still berating himself for the way that talk with Jace had gone. Jace had apologized to him for feeling suicidal, and Alec knew the part of him that felt relieved at the apology was in the wrong. He needed to be stronger for his grieving Parabatai, just like he needed to be stronger for Magnus, given what he was going through without his magic. And Magnus' words, whether Alec believed them to be true or not, were a boost to Alec's flagging morale. At this point, he'd take whatever help he could get.

With a sigh, Alec blinked back the last bit of moisture from his eyes and sat up, disengaging from Magnus slightly but keeping their faces close together. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against Magnus' lips. He made himself focus only on that sensation, pushing all thoughts of guilt and grief and anger from his mind for a blissful few seconds.

"Enough about that," Alec said as he pulled back. He made himself smile, and was surprised to find it wasn't as difficult as he might have imagined. "You and I are going to hit the gym in the morning."

"Excuse me?" Magnus said, quirking an eyebrow at the abrupt change of subject.

"You heard me. I know you're still processing losing your magic, but it's high time you learn other ways of taking care of yourself."

"And you think you're going to be the one to teach me?"

"Sure. You have a problem with that?"

"I've watched you Shadowhunters train. I'm more a creature of comfort and leisure, you know - decadence is the name of the game when you're a centuries-old society icon. All that sweating and running around punching things is hardly dignified."

"Alright, fair enough," Alec said. "It's your choice - you can train with me, or..." he paused for effect, "I can always hand you off to Izzy."

Magnus' eyes widened in only partially exaggerated horror, and Alec barely rolled out of the way of Magnus' tackle in time. "I'll show you how capable I am of taking care of myself, Mr. Lightwood," Magnus growled, and Alec, letting his own laughter carry the last of the day's stresses away, began his first informal training session with his wonderful boyfriend. He had a feeling the Clave wouldn't approve of these particular tactics, and he didn't care a bit.

[iturbide]

I loved that last snippet you posted! Though that does raise some questions, namely abt Grima. Him sometimes posessing/controling Robin is already cool, but what changed that he can do that? I'm super curious overall how he fits into the story, could you tell us a bit about him here? Like, you talked before how he was worshipped as Plegia's protector, and I'm curious abt how his character developed in this world

I’m so glad you enjoyed it I’ve been mulling that particular scene over for a while and trying to figure out how to write it, so I’m glad it turned out well!

but oh my friend i am always delighted to talk about grima c; 

One thing to note from the outset is that we’ve actually seen Grima before.  Twice.  And even when Grima’s influence isn’t at the fore, there have been moments when Robin’s reactions weren’t necessarily his own.  Grima is a constant presence here, subtle, just out of sight – and it all traces back to events in the last few millennia. 

So this requires some delving into ancient history.  A lot of things remain the same from a general timeline standpoint (though I don’t follow the Accordion because I take some issue with its progression of events; this ended up being a pretty solid breakdown of how I see the chain of events), but a few things are notably different, and they become very, very important. 

To start with: Forneus didn’t just get divine dragon blood for his experiment.  He managed, somehow, to lay hands on a viable Divine Dragon egg – an incredible, terrible feat given the fact that the degeneration had taken its toll on fertility rates and the Divine Dragon tribe had been decimated by the war.  He wasn’t just performing alchemic experiments on blood, he had the real thing and used alchemy to modify and manipulate it, which resulted in Grima having the strength and many of the same general abilities as the rest of the Divine Dragon tribe, but with some oddities mixed in (a few things he can’t do that they can, a few more he can that they can’t) because of how that magic influenced his development.  In the end, Forneus superstitions and his increasing mental instability made him try to kill his creation when it finally emerged, only to fail and lose the tiny dragon to the darkness of the labyrinth, which kept him safe from Duma’s destruction of Thabes and gave him room to grow until Alm and Celica accidentally broke the seal that let him out into the world. 

Because Naga had retreated to the eastern half of the Archanean continent following Mila and Duma’s exile (due in large part to the fact that she couldn’t maintain life in the desert without Mila’s assistance), the creation ended up settling on the western side.  His presence caused disturbances in the normal weather patterns, bringing more rain to the dry landscape, and soon enough the struggling desert populations began to flock to the dragon and establish a greater presence.  These first humans called him Grima – and once he realized that it was their name for him, he began to respond quite readily.  

Besides making life easier from an agricultural standpoint, Grima also offered humans shelter and protection from outside threats, both natural and manmade.  He earned his title of “the fell dragon” through his fierce retaliation against those who caused harm to his people and his lands – but in general, he was a very calm, reasonable dragon who let people do their own things and just liked to watch, frequently doing flyovers of his territory just to see what they were up to. 

Unfortunately, Grima never stopped growing.  He just kept getting bigger and bigger as the centuries passed, until finally Naga couldn’t possibly miss him.  Despite the fact that he showed no signs of degeneration and was by no means a threat to her people or his own, she judged that the risk he posed should he succumb to madness was too great – so she made her bond with her Chosen human and went to war with the fell dragon. 

Now, Divine Dragons with that much power tend to have some strange abilities.  Naga, for example, can hear the prayers of those who reach out to her (according to Nah’s support conversations with Morgan).  Grima, being a full-blooded (if somewhat strange) Divine Dragon, had his own set of talents, though he understood them rather poorly – namely the ability to read the thoughts and hearts of those he could lay eyes on.  And one look told him all he needed to know about Naga’s Chosen: he was, indeed, a powerful man – but he was also cruel and self-righteous, and Grima knew that if he won the battle then Grima’s people would be in great danger.  And with Naga’s backing, the fell dragon’s chances of victory seemed slim at best. 

So Grima turned to the people closest to him and granted them a small boon: not a full blood bond, the way Naga had with her Chosen, but a small fragment of power to help see them through the troubled times he feared would come.  That gift was intended to help protect the people in his stead – and from there, Grima charged them with gathering as many as they could and heading west, away from the battlefield to come.

Grima had no army, when Naga and the first Exalt came.  Grima fought alone, and fell alone, in a desperate attempt to save his people. 

And that should have been the end of it.  But what Grima didn’t know, thanks to his poor understanding of his own powers, was that the blood boon he granted those people would endure, passed down from one generation to the next over a thousand years.  He didn’t know that a cult would form within the faith dedicated to his name, devoted to restoring the fell dragon’s blood to its full might.  And he never, ever expected that there would come a day when a babe bearing his Mark was born into the world. 

Grima felt it, when Robin entered the world.  His body was dead and turned to nothing but bone and dust, but after a thousand years his soul suddenly had a physical connection to something, grounding him somewhere rather than simply existing formlessly and watching the passage of time.  Grima has been there as Robin grew up, has seen the world close-up for the first time in centuries…and has realized, too, the dangers in it for not just the people he left behind, but for this child who bears his blood. 

That connection is a strong one, and the fact that Grima’s soul is bound so closely to Robin means that things can bleed over between them sometimes.  Grima has a visceral reaction to Falchion, for example, because he remembers the blade that took his life, while Robin interprets the sudden surge of emotion as fear at where things are headed.  More often, Grima uses that bond to interact with Robin (though he interprets it as just mentally debating with himself, and Grima’s happy to let him think that), or to channel power to Robin when he needs it, giving him a surge of strength or magic to get out of a tight spot (basically I headcanon that Ignis is actually Grima lending Robin power in battle).  But when things are dire, and something Robin loves is at stake, when he loses himself to panic or fear or rage – that’s where Grima will step in to ensure that Robin does not lose that which he holds most dear. 

Grima’s careful about this, of course, never actually pushing Robin aside and possessing him completely.  They exist in parallel – as though Grima has taken Robin’s hands and begun to lead him through the steps of an unfamiliar task, affording them incredible power with Grima’s focus to make the best use of it.  That is a lot of energy to channel through a human, though, and it takes a serious toll on Robin’s body – he’s not kidding about the burning analogy, that much energy puts his every system into overdrive to increase his speed, his reflexes, his strength, his magic – meaning that even at his very best, Robin can only sustain Grima’s full might for about five minutes, ten if he really pushes it (and then his recovery period is significant).  

(Fun note: the first time that happened, it was completely by accident.  When they stumbled across that burned battlefield, Robin’s horror perfectly mirrored Grima’s own, and the resulting resonance pulled them into parallel with Grima getting his first actual taste of interacting with the world through a human body.  It was Henry that jarred them both out of it, and pulled Robin back to the fore while Grima ceded control.)

Ultimately, Grima has no interest whatsoever in returning to the world.  He’s content with the way things are, and being able to watch things the way he used to (actually it’s better, since he can get closer than he could in his flyovers); combined with the fact that Robin is intent on keeping Plegia safe for his own reasons, Grima is more than happy to lend him power when he needs it – and is actually quite pleased by Robin’s very peaceable nature, and the way he resorts to violence only as a last resort rather than fighting first and asking questions later (since Grima himself attacked only after the first enemy blow had landed). 

And as a final, random note: Robin can read people the same way Grima could, though not with the same clarity (he can’t actually read minds, but he gets very strong impressions when he interacts with someone for the first time).  Grima himself still has that ability, though, and when he’s at the fore he can get the full measure of someone from a look and then leverage it to its full advantage. 

[freddiewatts]

! Ephram

“I’m getting to be a broken record with the amount of times I’ve repeated this - but Ephram is the best man I’ve ever known. Which, as always, sounds like so much hideously biased rubbish coming from me, being that he’s my husband - but it remains as true as ever.

I’ve never known anyone more dedicated to the idea of doing the right thing than Ephram is; to justice and fairness and decency - and to wanting to be a force for all of those things, even when it’s difficult. I mean, given my working life, I suppose it isn’t terribly surprising that I didn’t have the occasion to encounter many people of that cailbre… but still; my husband is in a bit of a class by himself, I think. He’s not a ‘path of least resistance’ sort of man in the face of adversity; and to me, that’s quite a staggering quality to possess - especially when you consider the things he’s been through. And the weight of what he carries every day.

Ephram’s got the sort of integrity that might seem almost quaint or antiquated to some, but I think it’s all the more admirable for its rarity. He genuinely cares about right and wrong as he sees it, and that’s part of what makes him such a brilliant sheriff. 

The heartbreaking thing, of course, is that his unwavering belief in his own inescapable damnation comes part and parcel with that, and has convinced him that no amount of good that he does can ever matter; that he’ll never be any more than Sisyphus, forever pushing the boulder of his own unforgivable sins…

Never mind that nearly all of those sins have never been his to atone for.

I mean, my Ephram has suffered in ways that can’t ever be adequately described. Hurt in every way possible - betrayed and violated; abused, dismissed, and ignored - but his heart is so strong… it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. He still loves with the kind of faith and ferocity that should be impossible by now… and it’s breathtaking. It’s beautiful - and I’m grateful every day to be on the receiving end.

I mean, obviously, he isn’t perfect - far bloody from it. He can be oblivious sometimes, and a bit up his own arse when he’s ‘preaching’… He goes on about my unwillingness to admit to being wrong, but really, he’s just as bad in his own right; stubborn and stuck in about particular ideas and impressions… He’s inclined towards self-destruction when he’s in a bad way; his temper, when it finally reaches the boiling point and he lashes out, can be a bit cruel and a bit physical - our old kitchen cabinets could attest to that… He considers everyone else more important than he is; he forgives endlessly - and he has abominable taste in hats.

But… it’s like this, yeah?Loving Ephram has been, and continues to be, the making of me. I’m better for being his, and for making him mine. I mean, as soppy and wanky and cow-eyed as it sounds, meeting and falling in love with him has been nothing short of the discovery of fire for me - it changed my world as I knew it. Completely. He’s the absolute love of my life. 

So really, I’m not the one to ask about him, if you’re looking for impartiality.

But at least I don’t pretend otherwise, hm?”

[nulienna]

Hello! Your Tolkien Secret Santa here. Love the prompts, so wanted to ask you if there are any particular themes or scenes you'd like to have written? Also, if I were to go for something NSFW, where should I land on the spectrum of -fluffy- to -spicy- to -what a terrible day to have eyes-? I usually trend towards the darker style of fic, but of course can modify to any requests. Let me know :)

Hey!! Thanks so much for your message and my apologies for the delayed response! My brain has been a little sludgy the past few days buuut here goes:

I am very open-minded as to my gift, so please feel free to go in any weird and wonderful directions you might like - the darker side of things is definitely more than okay with me. Having said that, I know that might not be the most helpful response if you’re looking for ideas so I will attempt some broad suggestions!

In terms of general themes, I am very fond of ridiculous levels of angst, doomed and/or dysfunctional relationships, horror elements of any kind (body horror, cosmic horror, etc.), worldbuilding, magic and/or science, politics, scheming, ambiguous or unusual relationship dynamics, enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, enemies *and also* lovers… that sort of thing…

Depending on which characters/pairings you were thinking of going for I am happy to ramble on at length about my personal headcanons for them, but I also love seeing alternate interpretations to characterisation and relationship dynamics so please don’t feel that you have to stick to just my view! If you’d like me to infodump all of my headcanons for the characters & ships I listed (hopefully I can remember them correctly lmao) I can absolutely drop all of that on you but do let me know how much detail you want or if you’re leaning towards a specific prompt because I don’t want to overwhelm you with reams and reams of my uncontrolled ramblings (and I promise I will get back to you quicker from now on!!).

My favourite characters (I believe these are the ones I put?) are Celebrimbor, Sauron, Curufin, Finrod, and Maedhros, and in particular I love slightly darker takes on both Finrod and Maedhros than tends to be the fandom default, I would say? I love both characters very much and think they become infinitely more fascinating when given more sinister/less heroic elements, especially Finrod, and especially in a Curufinrod context – I see their relationship as more of a mutually Machiavellian, self-destructive, dysfunctional nightmare as opposed to a goody-two-shoes/bad boy dynamic, but again that’s just how I see it and I’m open to other ideas! I’m also really fascinated by Finrod’s dynamic with Celebrimbor, kind of irrespective of a relationship between Finrod and Curufin but I do think that makes things especially interesting. I headcanon Finrod as having been hugely influential on Celebrimbor and I think Finrod, Celebrimbor, and Sauron form a very interesting and complementary trio of characters to explore.

I’m also, unsurprisingly, a very big Silvergifting shipper, and in terms of my preferred brand of it, I am of the view that Sauron did have genuine feelings for Celebrimbor *of some kind*, not that he was very good at recognising that in himself at all. Sauron being Sauron, he can’t really conceptualise what a healthy relationship between equals looks like – he is only capable of viewing relationships of any kind in terms of power, and his love for Celebrimbor is very much of the obsessive, possessive kind – he cares deeply about Celebrimbor, which terrifies him in a way he can’t bring himself to confront because it wasn’t part of his plan, it’s outside of his control, and now he has something to lose – it gives Celebrimbor power over him. He genuinely thinks that he will win Celebrimbor over to his point of view eventually, and be able to keep him by his side after his identity is revealed, and when that doesn’t happen and Celebrimbor rejects him… well as we all know he doesn’t take it well 😅

Those two are definitely my OTP and to be honest I’d be more than happy to read anything about them at all, but especially at the moment I’m leaning towards more pre-reveal, Eregion era, maybe an exploration of how their relationship developed, how tragic it is that they’re made for each other and clearly having fun being ultra-nerds together (it was probably the happiest time of Sauron’s life, not that he’d ever admit it later), but of course it was all doomed from the start! I also love explorations of how Annatar’s Maiar nature influences their relationship, I have a soft spot for eldritch Maiar and for Annatar coming across as decidedly alien in comparison to the Elves, both physically, psychically, and in terms of how he views things.

As for NSFW content, again I’m open to anywhere on that spectrum, but my usual tastes do hover somewhere between “spicy” and “what a terrible day to have eyes” lmao. I would say though that for Caranthir/Haleth (I did put that down as a pairing, right? If not ignore me 😅) I’d prefer the slightly fluffier side of things – by all means make it very angsty and sad if you wish but for instance I’d prefer no non-con/dub-con for them if that’s okay.

Oh god… I’ve rambled so much I’m so sorry. I do hope this is useful and please don’t hesitate to let me know if you’d like some further suggestions or info, e.g. I know I haven’t gone into as much detail on some of the pairings as others but this reply is already so long it’s ridiculous... oops

Thank you so much again, I absolutely cannot wait to see what you come up with 😁

[shiningamongdarkness]

Chapter 40. You promised me

Shining among Darkness

By WingzemonX

Chapter 40.

You promised me

The three-hour drive from Boston to Chamberlain felt like forever for Matilda. She crossed the New Hampshire state line a little after 9:00, and twenty minutes later, she was entering Maine. From then on, she drove down Highway 95 like a madwoman, at a speed she was definitely not used to at all. In fact, a quick self-test would have revealed without a doubt that she was out of control. Still, she only became faintly aware of it the second time her vehicle nearly spun off the road when cornering too fast. Only then did she question herself if perhaps she should turn around and go back because, in reality, she had nothing concrete that could indicate that something was wrong. Or, at least, not something so bad that it warranted such a sudden trip.

However, that vision had been so horrible, and the accompanying feeling so overwhelming that she couldn't get it out of her head. She didn't even know what it meant or if it was something that had happened or was about to happen. But whatever it was, it kept her driving. He felt like he should go and make sure Carrie was okay; only then could she be calm.

At some point around 11:00, the psychiatrist's vehicle flew past the sign displayed in large, colorful letters: "Welcome to Chamberlain." Shortly after that point, she forced herself to slow down since she was already entering an urban area, and the least she needed at that moment was for a patrol to stop her. But it didn't take long for her to realize that no one had fined her, even if she had gone sixty miles per hour.

When Matilda entered the town's main avenue, she had to stop short when she saw a stampede of people running in terror down the street. Behind them, there was an orange glow that stood out over the buildings, as well as a dense smoke that was beginning to cover the sky. The screams and howls of the people were accompanied by the sound of sirens. An ambulance abruptly passed by the side of her vehicle, so close that it almost took away the side mirror. The emergency vehicle had to slow down a bit ahead and began to sound its horn insistently to get people to step aside and let it pass.

It was all too sudden. Matilda had gone from the silence and the almost numbing stillness of the road to plunging into a confusion of madness. She quickly got out of her vehicle. People ran around her, passing her as if they didn't even see her. They all looked scared, or at least quite confused. What was causing such hysteria?

Matilda began to move in the opposite direction from which the tide of people was heading. As she turned a corner onto another of the main avenues, she stared in amazement at the almost unreal scenery that loomed before her. Buildings on both sides of the street were on fire, light posters were down, and at least three cars were overturned. The pavement had cracked, creating long ruts in it. Chunks of stone, glass, and metal were scattered everywhere. And among all that rubble, she also managed to see several people lying; some moved and twisted in pain… others didn't.

The police officers were trying to drive people away from the place, and some paramedics were doing their best to get closer and help the injured. Three fire trucks were trying to put out the fires, but Matilda saw that they could not cope at first glance.

It was like a disaster scene from a movie, but it was totally real.

Matilda forced herself to advance a little further, getting close as she could to a policeman helping a woman advance. The woman had a tremendous blow to the forehead, and the blood flowed from the wound bathed her face.

"Let me check her; I'm a doctor," she said with impetus. The officer stopped, and then Matilda took the woman's face and checked the blow and her pupils. "Can you hear me? Follow my finger…" She extended her index finger and began to move it from side to side in front of the woman's face; she followed it, only moving her eyes at the same pace. She was stunned and shocked but seemed relatively fine, although only X-rays could confirm it. "Take her to the paramedics, let them treat that wound, and take her to the hospital."

"If there is still a hospital to take all these people to," the policeman replied in a tone of frustration. However, that was perhaps one more comment to himself.

As she pulled her hands away from the woman, Matilda realized that they had been stained with blood. She had an involuntary urge to wipe them against her pants, an act she regretted a second later.

"Officer, what happened? Tell me," she asked the policeman.

"We don't know for sure," he replied, just before walking along with the woman again. "They say there was an explosion in the school, and now the whole town is a fucking hell."

"In the school?" Carrie's prom came to mind immediately, and this thought was followed by several much worse ones. "It was an accident? A gas leak?"

"No, it was… it was…" It seemed for a moment that the officer wanted to say something. Still, he abruptly hesitated as if he was having trouble putting his ideas into shape.

"What? What was it?"

The officer stammered doubtfully. He turned away as if searching for the answer from the crowd around him.

"Carrie White," the woman he was carrying suddenly blurted out, catching the psychiatrist off guard. The woman was staring absently at the ground. "It was her... it was Carrie White..."

Matilda felt a knot in her stomach at hearing that.

"What are you talking about? Are you sure of that? Where's Carrie?"

"I ... I don't know ..." she murmured doubtfully, turning her to see slowly. "I don't even know who Carrie White is..."

Matilda was dumbfounded upon hearing that. She looked at the officer, and he said nothing but seemed convinced to support the statement.

"Get away from here, miss," the policeman told her, starting to walk away. "There may be more explosions!"

The brunette stayed in place for a few seconds, lost in her own thoughts. After a few moments, she managed to move and began to move quickly back to her car.

The reaction of that woman and that policeman was unintelligible. What had they seen or heard to be in that condition, and what did Carrie have to do with it? Could that horrible scenario really have been caused by her, as those two individuals seemed to suppose? She understood at least one of those points just as she sat back in the driver's seat of her vehicle: they were having implanted thoughts.

She hadn't treated Carrie enough to know whether or not she possessed telepathic abilities, but she knew it was quite possible. And suppose her abilities had gotten entirely out of control. In that case, she could be implanting her thoughts on the people around her without notice it. But, to that magnitude? All those people at the same time? What had happened to upset her so much? And all that destruction?

A part of her still refused to believe that Carrie could be responsible for such a disaster. But... hadn't she seen it herself? Hadn't she witnessed the amount of violence she was capable of? If something terrible enough had happened at the dance, she couldn't be sure of what might and might not occur. The truth was that if Carrie's telekinesis was as strong as she supposed, she could potentially be able to do all that... and more...

No, she couldn't get carried away with that thought. Whether or not Carrie had to do with all that, she had to find her first and see that she was okay. Then she would help her get through all of that.

Matilda pressed her hands carefully against the steering wheel, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Being a tracker wasn't her thing, but if Carrie found herself relaying her emotions and thoughts with that intensity, maybe even she could detect where the girl was. After all, that vision had come to her for a reason. There must be some open channel through which she could find her.

It took a while, but in the end, she could see something: the wobbly image of a house slowly approaching her.

Matilda opened her eyes abruptly and realized in those moments that a couple of tears had escaped from her and slid down her cheeks. That reaction… She guessed it wasn't really her. But didn't have time to think about it too much. She had recognized the house, and it was the obvious place to start looking.

She started the vehicle, reversed looking back to make sure no one was in his way, and then turned into the streets to go to the place she had seen.

— — — —

After driving for a few minutes, Matilda realized that she had almost entirely moved away from the chaos that reigned in the center. Unlike the main avenue, Carrie's street was on was quiet and totally alone. Even so, the damage was not entirely absent. As she moved on, she came across two other overturned cars and some fallen posters. There was no light in any streetlight or in a house, so her only guide through all that gloom was the headlights of her car and a little of what the stars and the moon managed to light.

In the distance, however, she managed to see a small illuminated point. It was candlelight, filtering through the windows of a particular house. Matilda parked right in front, not caring at all about doing it the right way as she even ended up on the sidewalk. As soon as she turned off the engine, she heard a loud scream from inside the house, which made her shudder in amazement, followed later by a high-pitched cry.

"Carrie..."

She hurried out of the vehicle, not even bothering to close the door behind her. She ran from the sidewalk to the front door of the house, which was obviously open. Halfway there, she stopped when she noticed something visible, thanks to the fact that she had also not turned off the car lights. Barely noticeable footprints had been painted on the concrete floor leading to the house's porch; red footprints.

Matilda kept going, hurrying up the porch steps and then throwing the door wide. The air inside seemed overwhelmingly heavy. The whole place was lit by candles placed in different parts of the house. She heard the crying again; it seemed to come from the living room. She had to take only a few steps in that direction to see what would be up to that moment the most horrifying image she had seen that night... or perhaps in her entire life.

Margaret White's body lay in her daughter's arms. Her white nightgown was completely soaked in blood, turning almost entirely red in the torso area. The woman had at least five objects embedded in her chest and abdomen, among which Matilda distinguished knives and some scissors. There were more similar objects with their red-stained edges on the ground. Margaret's eyes were closed, and her face looked calm and peaceful.

She was dead; Matilda knew it the moment she saw her. The high-pitched, heartbroken sobs she'd heard came from Carrie, holding her mother tightly to her. Matilda simply knew it was her, perhaps a little due to the implanted thoughts that still came from her since, in reality, Carrie was practically unrecognizable at the moment.

Her entire body was painted brown and red, from her hair to her feet. The blood had started to coagulate, clinging to her skin to the point that it was difficult to tell when these two were splitting. Her dress was dirty and tattered. Her feet were bare; the footprints Matilda had seen outside were indeed hers. Her hair, matted and hardened with blood, fell over her face. And on her right shoulder, a thick butcher knife was fully embedded, and fresh, red blood was pouring from this horrible wound, soaking her arm and chest, and further staining her mother's nightgown.

It was a totally vomiting scene for Matilda, which left her practically petrified in the doorway of the room and unable to utter anything at all.

Carrie was apparently finally aware of her presence and slowly raised her haggard face to her. This one, too, was covered in blood, grease, traces of soot and, of course, tears that had traced their path in the brown stains on her face. Her eyes were irritated, but… they didn't look particularly sad.

"Oh God, Carrie…" Matilda said slowly, taking up too much effort to even say that.

Carrie stared at her in silence for a few seconds. She not seemed surprised, relieved, or bothered to see her; it was as if she didn't really see her. Then the young lady looked back at her mother in her arms.

"I wanted her comfort. I wanted her to tell me that everything would be fine," Carrie began to whisper something rambling. "I wanted her to protect me like a real mother would. But instead… she hurt me…"

Carrie released her mother abruptly, letting her body collapse to the ground and hit her head against it. Then she clutched her left hand against her injured shoulder, squeezing it as if that way she could ease the tremendous pain it was causing her.

"He hurt me like she always did! I didn't want to do it… or maybe I did… But it was all her fault, hers and all of them… They made me like that! Why couldn't they just leave me alone?! Look what they've turned me into!"

She turned back to Matilda, letting out more screams but not from sadness, but rather from despair and anger and frustration that had to come out somehow. Matilda then felt the windows shaking and the walls creaking.

"Carrie, calm down, please," Matilda whispered and slowly approaching her. "I'm here, and I'm going to help you..."

"I don't need any more help…" Carrie whispered sharply, fixing her cold blue eyes on her. "And less from you!"

Matilda's body was abruptly pushed back with force. Her back slammed into the wall, bouncing off it, then hitting the floor facedown.

"Carrie…" She muttered in a daze. She felt a sharp pain run through her body, though it subsided shortly after.

Carrie tried to get up while still holding her horrible wound. She staggered mid-process, falling back to her knees.

"You promised me," the girl began to said suddenly. "You promised you would help me! You promised everything would be okay! Do you think any of this is okay?!"

She held her hand out to the side forcefully, and some of the blood that had pooled on his palm separated from it, drawing a curve on the ground.

"Carrie, calm down, please," Matilda whispered calmly as she tried to get up again. "Don't let your emotions take control of your abilities. You can control this; the power is yours..."

Carrie was breathing hard. She looked dizzy and weak, possibly from all the excess she had done in the use of her abilities and the injury to her shoulder that could be life-threatening at first glance. Still, she tried again to stand up, and this time she did. She stood on her bare feet, staggering a little but managing to remain standing.

"Yes, it's true… I can control it… But I don't want to…"

The young woman suddenly pulled her hand to the side, and Matilda's body rose and flew through the air, across the living room to the dining room, and then fell on her back right on the table. The dishes and decorations that were there were demolished. The table's legs creaked, but it remained upright.

Matilda felt quite stunned by the sudden movement. She raised her gaze as best she could toward the dining-room door. She could see the dark, almost ghostly figure of Carrie advance towards her with slow steps. She was still holding onto her injured shoulder tightly.

"You're like everyone else," Carrie gasped. "Pushing and pushing until everyone does what you say... You told me to oppose my mother, you told me to go to that stupid dance. And all for what? For this? Maybe that was what you wanted to happen, wasn't it?"

"Carrie, you don't know what you're saying," Matilda muttered painfully, trying to get up from the table. "You are not thinking clearly..."

Matilda rose abruptly again, now straight up until almost touching the ceiling. Then she came back down with great force until she crashed against the table. Now the legs did give way, and she and the board fell to the floor. The psychiatrist let out a high-pitched groan of pain from the blow. She turned, lying on her right side, and stood there for a few seconds, trying to recover. She felt Carrie approach her until she stood right in front of her.

"Good girls loyal to God don't think," the young woman declared harshly. The loose pieces of wood from the table and chairs slowly rose, looming over Matilda and pointing at her like stakes. "They do and say what He dictates. And His will tells me that I have to destroy this town full of sinners and pagans, roadhouses and alcohol, where being good and pure is a cursed crime!"

The stakes shot straight at Matilda's body on the ground. However, they came to an abrupt halt and were suspended just inches from her body.

The brunette began to rise slowly, and those sticks did with her. She whirled straight toward Carrie, and in the same motion, the stakes she'd threatened her with flew to the side, and Carrie's body was pushed back; her feet dragged across the floor, and her back was against the wall. Carrie's body was paralyzed, and she was looking at the doctor with her eyes wide and wild; they didn't really look like the eyes of a conscious person.

Matilda was unkempt, and some of her clothes had also ripped, and she had some minor scratches. But her gaze was steady and hard, and she had it right on her sudden attacker.

"Please, Carrie," she began to whisper, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Don't make me hurt you... I don't want to ..."

Carrie watched her silently. She sucked heavily through her nose, and her lips were pressed tightly together. Again, the walls and windows began to shake.

"You must have turned away from me when I asked you the first time, Dr. Honey..."

The roar from every window in the house exploding echoed with great intensity. Chunks of glass streaked through the air like ravenous locusts in search of their prey. Matilda had to release Carrie and duck to dodge the deadly daggers. A glass tore her jacket on her right shoulder and made a superficial wound; almost immediately, one more did something similar to her leg. She ducked behind one of the dining room furniture in an attempt to take cover, but they still caught up with her; even a small one embedded itself in the back of his hand.

Matilda glanced at Carrie. Once she released her, the girl had fallen to the ground and was now staring at her from there with a wave of anger so incomprehensible to her. This horrible situation was not the young woman's fault, but if Matilda didn't do something, they would both end up like their mother.

Matilda closed her eyes for a few seconds, breathed slowly. In her mind, she drew an image quite similar to the one Eleven had shown her the first time they met. She saw the stove in the kitchen of her childhood home and the bluish flame of the burner barely visible. She reached her hand out for the knob and slowly turned it, little by little, while her breathing accelerated at the same time. She kept opening it until the flame of the burner rose strongly like a blazing blue flame.

Matilda abruptly opened her eyes again. Her pupils had widened, her jaw clenched, and the veins in her temples throbbed. The pieces of glass stopped one by one right in place until they were suspended around her like snowflakes frozen in time. Matilda rose slowly from her site, leaning on the cabinet behind which she was hiding. Her gaze passed passively around her, and one by one, the pieces of glass exploded, leaving only small traces of glittering dust that fell to the ground like a tiny dew.

Carrie looked at all of this with some fascination, but the anger that consumed her did not subside one bit. She leaned on her good arm long enough to sit up, and then the table came crashing down on Matilda. She raised her hands to it, and the table not only stopped hitting her but broke in two, each half falling to one side of the brunette.

Carrie began to throw anything at her with her telekinesis: cups, plates, pieces of wood, the chairs that were still intact, and the knives she had taken from her mother, everything she could throw at her like a deadly projectile. These, however, did not touch their target. Matilda moved slowly towards her, and whatever she threw at her would turn her around and fit into the walls or the floor without touching her; except for a pair of scissors that they did make a horizontal cut on her left cheek, but she didn't even seem to feel it.

All of this only made Carrie more and more enraged. She let out a loud scream that expressed all the frustration and anger he had inside. This act was accompanied by an explosion of energy force that pushed everything close in all directions: the furniture, the paintings, the fragments, everything flew. Even Matilda could not avoid being a victim of it, and she was dragged back by that blow but managed to hold her ground and not fall. She raised her hand to Carrie in an attempt to immobilize her with telekinesis before she tried anything else. However, the blonde managed to do the exact same thing, raising her only good arm towards her.

They both stood still, feeling how the energy that flowed from the other enveloped them, but at the same time, their own tried to repel it. Around them, and especially in the space between them, a heavy pressure began to be felt. The walls of the room started to crack at the same time as the floor. Small objects and pieces of paper began to shake as if a small tornado had formed around them. They both felt like they were being pushed back. Still, they were reluctant to give in. Matilda had never experienced anything like this. The energy that enveloped them was so intense that she felt that her body would be destroyed if she took the wrong step.

They both screamed at the same time they tried to apply all the forces they had left. That crash caused what was similar to an explosion intense enough to blow the dining room apart and push them both backward. Carrie flew back into the living room, falling not far from her mother and letting out a high-pitched scream as she felt a stabbing pain run through her entire body from her injured shoulder. On the other hand, Matilda was thrown into the kitchen, crashing into the refrigerator and then falling face down to the floor, splitting her lip in the process. She was so stunned after the blow that she lay there for a long time.

Carrie was the first to try to get up, but her state prevented her. The pain was already too intense, and that last blow had sapped all his remaining strength. Maybe this was how it should all end; faint there, lying next to her mother and letting everything just disappear. Her only regret, strange as it was, was not being able to die looking at the stars... She had never thought that this would be the way she would have liked to do it until now.

"Carrie?" She heard someone say near her, but it was not Dr. Honey's voice.

Carrie raised her face weakly. Standing on the threshold of the room was the blurred figure of a person. She had come through the open door of the house, and now she was standing there, looking at her with disquiet and fear. The young woman's sight cleared, and she was able to make out Sue Snell's beautiful face and her shiny blonde hair falling to her shoulders. The gorgeous Sue, the girl of Tommy's eyes, and Chris Hargensen's inseparable friend. The who that must indeed have been the true queen of that filthy dance. She looked so flawless and clean… while she sure looked like an absolute mess. But… hadn't it always been that way?

"You…" Carrie whispered hoarsely, and suddenly she had strength out of nowhere, or at least enough to sit up and look at her more closely.

Sue gave a little cry and covered her mouth with her hands; her eyes seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Carrie… I'm so sorry," Sue gasped, then dared to approach her cautiously. "I didn't know…"

"You sorry?" Carrie snapped with too much aggression in her voice. Sue's body stopped, and she could not move even a finger from one moment to the next. "What do you sorry? Didn't you laugh enough at me? Not throwing tampons at me at the dance too?!"

Sue felt a fear greater than she had felt before. She could barely breathe; she felt like she was going to suffocate at any moment.

"No, Carrie," she cried as hard as she could. "I had nothing to do with it. Chris, she alone..."

"I saw Chris tonight," Carrie interrupted abruptly and then raised her hand to her. Sue's body began to slide across the floor towards her without her being able to do anything to prevent it. "She's not laughing much anymore... And neither will..."

Sue knew immediately what those hideous words meant.

"Please, Carrie… don't hurt me…" she whispered pleadingly between tears as she continued to approach that ghostly figure covered in blood.

"Why not? You all hurt me my whole life..."

Matilda staggered into the room now, dazed and in pain but still standing.

"Carrie, no…" She murmured in alarm when she saw Sue. She tried to react to pull her away from the newcomer with her powers. However, an instant before she could do something, Carrie turned her gaze directly towards her, and Matilda's body flew again, now towards the stairs that led to the second floor. She collided with the railing with so much force that it broke.

Matilda rested against the steps, her right hand gripping her left arm. She had hit it right against the railing, and it seemed to have hurt it or even broken it.

With Matilda immobilized, Carrie turned her attention back to Sue. Turning back to her, she was so close that her fingers lightly touched her abdomen.

And then she felt it; as soon as her fingers touched Sue's body, Carrie managed to handle it throughout her being. It wasn't a beat, it wasn't a thought, it wasn't a voice. She couldn't put a name to it, but she felt it. She looked surprised, and even a little frightened, at the belly of her former schoolmate.

"What…?" Carrie whispered slowly, still unable to fully process this. She then raised her face slightly to Sue, who was still in horror. She didn't know exactly what gave her the clue she needed, but as soon as she saw Sue's face, she knew it immediately. "Is it... Is it Tommy's...?"

"What?" Sue questioned, confused.

Carrie looked down at her belly again, and now she dared to place her palm entirely against it. By doing that, she saw it much more clearly.

"It's a girl," she whispered very slowly, but enough for Sue to hear.

That made Sue's body tense even more, and her mind practically went blank; even his fear had faded a bit. She lowered her stunned gaze to his own belly. Although she didn't feel it like Carrie, she knew what he meant...

"Oh my God…" Sue murmured, dumbfounded at the revelation.

It had an effect on Carrie, an almost destructive effect. And for the first time in that horrible night, she was able to think clearly about something: Tommy… Tommy was dead. He was going to have a baby with the girl of his dreams... and now he would have nothing. He was dead, just like everyone else, just like her mother...

She dropped her arm with a bang, releasing Sue at the same time, who no longer being supported by Carrie, fell to the floor as her legs gave out. Carrie turned slightly to the side, gazing at her mother's sleepy, peaceful face. Little by little, her mind cleared, her pupils and her heartbeat normalized, and all the anger that flooded and blinded her faded. But that turned out to be no good, for little by little, the horrible reality in front of her became more and more tangible, just as the pain from her injuries grew more intense.

"What have I done?" Carrie whispered slowly to herself. "What have I done…?"

Sue stopped being afraid of Carrie. Perhaps the shock she had just felt had caused it, or possibly Carrie's volatile thoughts were affecting her as well. She tried to approach her, not really knowing what he would do. Would she comfort her? Would she say something to make her feel "better"? What could she do or say at a time like this?

Sue stopped when she heard the house creak. She looked up and noticed long fissures beginning to form on the walls and ceiling like exposed veins.

Sue tried to say something, but her body rose a few inches at that moment and began to float gently toward the front door. Her first thought was that Carrie was doing it. Still, before she crossed the threshold, she could see this other brown-haired woman, whose left arm hung limply at her side, but her other hand was raised firmly in her direction. Sue walked through the door and then sat in the front yard of the house. From the outside, she could see that the state of the house was even worse. The creak was even louder, and the entire upper floor seemed to bend and about to collapse against the lower floor.

Once Sue was outside, Matilda tried to get closer to where Carrie lay. Her arm hurt a lot, and she had several scrapes on her face and knees. Also, the wounds that the glass had done before began to burn and bleed more. Carrie, by her side, had sat down beside her mother's body and held her weakly against herself. Little sobs of pain and sadness came from her mouth, accompanied by the creaking of the house. A beam went off the ceiling suddenly, falling right in front of Matilda and cutting her off to get to where Carrie stood.

"We have to get out of here, Carrie," the psychiatrist whispered loudly, reaching out to her. "Please, let me help you."

"I don't want any more help…" the young woman whispered very slowly, turning slightly towards her. Her gaze was dull; there was almost no life left in her body. The last of her physical strength was being applied in the impending destruction of that house. "Getaway..."

"I won't, I won't leave you..."

"Getaway! Getaway and leave us alone!"

Matilda was abruptly pushed back as if she had been hit by a horse. Her body went directly against the window of the room, crossing what was left of the wooden frame and scraping with some pieces of glass stuck to it. She fell back against the ground outside, feeling, even more, the pain in her arm as she practically fell on it. This pain left her immobilized.

"Are you okay?" She heard Sue's question as she approached, but Matilda was unable to answer anything.

The house was beginning to collapse in itself, accompanied by the creaking of wood, metal, and stone breaking. And among all that symphony of destruction, Carrie's voice was subtly hidden, whispering from within, embraced by her mother as the puny strength of her body allowed it. The candles had fallen out of place, and part of the ground floor was already on fire.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. He refreshes my soul and guides me along the right paths for His name's sake. Even if I pass through the darkest valleys, I will fear no evil because you are with me..."

Yet another beam detached from the ceiling, falling abruptly toward them. Carrie made no attempt to stop it. She just closed her eyes and let it all end once and for all.

"Your rod and Your staff comfort me… You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies…"

And then her voice fell silent.

The house contracted into itself. The entire upper floor collapsed, causing a great rumble and a cloud of dust.

"No! Carrie!" Matilda exclaimed in horror. Her first instinct was to stand up, but the pain and her imbalance nearly caused her to fall again until Sue took it upon herself to hold her.

Matilda stared in astonishment at what little was left of the ground floor walls, the only thing left standing, and how some fire began to spread through the ruins. Her ears were ringing, unable to hear anything clearly, not Sue's voice, not the sound of police and fire sirens approaching down the street, not even her own thoughts. For a few moments, her brain went totally blank.

— — — —

No one slept that night in Chamberlain. The fire in the center spread throughout the morning, even reaching residential areas. Only ruins remained of the school. By the time the sun rose, the total fatalities were in the hundreds, and they were still growing; the injured were many more. The material damage was simply incalculable. It was as if a tremendous tornado had struck them suddenly, and no one had prepared in the least for it. And in part, perhaps it was so: an uncontrollable force of nature had struck them. And as the fires were put out, the wounded were treated, and the dead identified, all that remained were questions, the most critical being: why?

Matilda wouldn't have a clear answer. She was sitting in her vehicle, still parked in front of what was once Carrie and her mother's home. The paramedics had treated her; her arm was not broken, but she was injured enough to carry it deer and hang from a sling. She also had some gauze covering the cuts on his face. Except for her arm and a few other blows, everything else was superficial.

She was doing nothing in particular right now, other than staring at the police coming and going. The street had filled with dark vans and uniformed officers, almost to chaos. Some had already started going through the rubble, but Matilda did not want to see what they would get out of it.

They had let her sit in her car to rest after treating her injuries. However, a detective asked her not to leave since he would take her statement as soon as she was ready. He wanted to know who she was and what she was doing there exactly; fair enough questions. She should have used that time to think carefully about what she would say and put together a statement that would not compromise her or the Foundation. But she just couldn't think of anything other than the image of Carrie White wholly covered in blood, staring at her full of hatred and yelling at her:

You promised me. You promised you would help me! You promised everything would be okay! Do you think any of this is okay?!

Yes, she promised that. She told her that even if everything was so bad at that time, sooner or later, everything would be different; it would be better. That happened with her, and she was convinced that it would be so with Carrie. But it wasn't, and it never will be; Carrie White will never be better or worse again.

She had failed miserably as how she had never done it. All that disaster, all those deaths, including Carrie's, were due to her being a total failure...

"Nothing of this is your fault," she suddenly heard a voice say right next to her, causing her to shudder in her seat with fright.

She turned stunned to the side, suddenly glimpsing the image of a woman with curly brown hair, thick glasses, and a blue suit, sitting right in the passenger seat. She was looking at her with almost overwhelming seriousness in her eyes.

"Eleven…" Matilda whispered slowly once she could get out of her initial astonishment. "How do you…?" She was going to ask how she got there so soon, but the answer followed when that question was finished in her head. "You're not really here, are you?"

That woman, or rather the projection of herself she was sending for sure from her home in Indiana, nodded slightly.

"This wouldn't be necessary if you answered your phone."

A nervous laugh escaped from the psychiatrist.

"I don't even know where it was…" She dropped her head at that moment, hitting her forehead against the steering wheel. "I can't believe this is happening…"

Eleven sighed heavily.

"I wish you had never had an experience like this. But it was inevitable if you got more involved in this kind of thing. And I'm afraid it might not be the worst you go through."

"Thanks, that helps," Matilda replied remarkably defensively.

"I'm not trying to discourage you but to show you the truth. Everything in this world has a dark side: love, friendship, family... and the Shining too. Not everyone has such a good time when they find out what they can do. Many of us suffer as you cannot imagine, and we need more than words of encouragement to move forward. That's what you should keep from all of this. The rest, let it go."

"Let it go...?" Matilda asked incredulously, pulling her face away from the wheel to look at her.

"You must not regret this. There was nothing you could do in such a short time to prevent it. Nothing of this was your fault, did you hear me? Nothing."

"How can you say that?" The psychiatrist snapped, almost as if the comment offended her. "I saw that anger in her; I saw what she might be capable of. But I didn't do anything; I didn't want to react because…" She hesitated for a few seconds. "I don't know why… I was just too much of a coward. To have done something before, to have decided..."

"Nothing would have changed," Eleven interrupted harshly. "This was meant to happen, with or without you. It is evident that the girl had much more severe problems than you thought, and the damage she had suffered after all these years was much more profound. We're late, that's all. You did everything you could."

Matilda was breathing somewhat agitatedly. She seemed to use all her willpower to keep from crying; she'd been doing it pretty much all night, but at that point, it became almost untenable.

"I can't say that to myself... I can't..."

"You must. If you don't, this guilt will stay with you for the rest of your life. And the only thing you will cause is to affect all the cases that come to you from now on. Let it go. Not now, not tomorrow, but when you're ready."

"Is that what you do when something like this happens to you?" Matilda questioned in a hushed voice, looking uneasily at her former mentor. "You just… let it go…?"

That question seemed to leave Eleven defenseless. She shifted her gaze to the side with a thoughtful gesture, as if looking out the window, although it was difficult to say if she was capable of doing such a thing while being only a projection.

"I know more than anyone in this world that this is easier said than done. But it's necessary."

Quite a practical answer, even a bit cold, undoubtedly inspired by everything she had lived through in her years dealing with such matters. And perhaps if she had seen and lived the same thing as her, she could have done such a thing. But not now, not after she had seen that night. Not after failing Carrie so badly.

She ran her hands over her face and mostly her eyes, wiping away any tiny trace of tears that may have spilled from her.

"I can't do such a thing; I can't ignore what happened," she murmured more decisively, focusing her gaze straight ahead. "I'll never let this happen to another child again. Nevermore…"

* * * *

The black helicopter hovered over that forest in western Maine, lost in the shadows of the moonless night. Its destination was not visible to the naked eye, but on the cockpit GPS dash, the point was clearly marked in front of its current location. Built on the less visible side of a mountain, the helipad they would land was located. As he circled the mountain, the runway became visible to the pilot and the indications that the personnel on it transmitted to him with their signal lights. The helicopter slowly descended towards the surface, stirring the wind with its rotating shafts.

Once the machine was stable on the ground, one of the runway workers rushed to the door so that the only passenger on it would get out. An African American man with a shaved head and a white coat practically jumped out of the helicopter. The propellers still in motion waved his gown, but this gradually subsided after the pilot switched off the engine.

The newcomer calmly walked toward a young man waiting for him at the side of the runway. He was slim and tall, with dark blonde hair cropped at the sides and his presence barely noticeable on top. He was wearing a dark blue military-style suit with black boots, and he stood firmly in place with his hands placed behind his back.

"Welcome, Dr. Shepherd," the man welcomed him in a firm, stoic voice.

"How are you doing, Frankie?" greeted with much enthusiasm the man who hours before had been presented to Lisa Mathews with the name Russell. "How is everything around here?"

They both began to walk side by side towards what appeared to be an elevator door, practically placed on the mountain wall as if it were an object totally out of place. There were five others equal lined up beside it. Once close, the blond man passed his badge over an electronic reader located to the side of the door, and it opened automatically, revealing the interior of a spacious, clean elevator with an almost blinding white light.

"We have heard that the deployment of agents in Portland continues because of what happened at that the hospital," Frankie commented in a slightly belated response to his last question.

"Oh, that," Russel muttered, not really showing much interest in the comment. They both entered the elevator, and inside Frankie swiped his badge over another reader. Then, in the board's options, he pressed the button for Level -5, and the elevator began to travel a long way down. "That isn't our business; let our handsome armed friends take care of that. We are only interested in science."

"As you say, sir," Frankie replied without much enthusiasm, to which Russel only snorted in resignation.

They didn't talk much until the elevator reached its destination, mainly because Frankie was not the slightest bit of a suitable contact person. Upon reaching Level -5, the doors opened. Both men entered a long, white-list corridor, with numbered doors on each side, each with its respective electronic reader to one side. They walked down the silent hall; the sound of Frankie's heavy boots against the shiny, freshly polished floor echoed loudly. They stopped at the door a little before the middle of the hall, with large black numbers on it: 5016. Frankie once again swiped his badge across the reader, and the door latch was heard unlocked.

Russel Shepherd entered first. The room was large, square, lit with more white fluorescent light from the ceiling. In general, it appeared to be a simple hospital room, with its modern gurney, its lectern with its bags of saline and medicine hanging down, and its electronic devices for measuring the vital signs of the patient lying on the gurney. There were some couches and a couple of chairs, and even a television that was broadcasting a baseball game at that moment.

However, the appliances around the gurney were much more sophisticated than those in a conventional hospital room. On the different screens, they could monitor practically everything: heart rate, brain activity, oxygenation levels, and everything seemed to be stable. There was also a mirror on the left side wall, clearly double so that the room could be seen from the next, plus four cameras, one in each corner of the room.

The baseball game on television was not for the patient. She lay totally unconscious and had been so for a very long time. The one who saw it at the time was a man with Asian features, sitting in one of the chairs to one side of the gurney. He wore a white coat and thick black-rimmed glasses. On his legs, he held a support board with some papers hooked to it. As soon as he heard the door open, he turned his gaze slightly to it, recognized the two men entering, and almost automatically looked back at the television.

"Good evening, Dr. Takashiro," Russel greeted him with the same enthusiasm he had greeted Frankie. Still, he received a somewhat similar response in return.

"Good evening, sir," the man in the chair murmured in a muffled voice.

Russel approached the gurney while Frankie stood in front of the door, again standing firm and his arms behind his back.

"And how is my special girl?" Russel asked, looking at the patient with a wide smile.

Takashiro shrugged while still watching the game.

"Same as always, no news."

"It was a rhetorical question… or something," Russel commented with slight annoyance. Then he looked at both the man in the chair and Frankie accusingly. "Do you two share a sense of humor or what?"

No one answered anything.

"Whatever…"

He leaned forward a little to better see the person who was resting there, face-up, totally still, with her eyes closed and her breathing barely perceptible. She wore a greenish hospital gown that covered her slim body. Her lips were a bit dry, and her reddish-blonde hair was a bit matted and greasy. Her face looked pale but calm as if she was just taking a nap, a long nap of more than four years.

Russel smiled.

"Good night, Carrietta," he whispered slowly, as if afraid of waking her if he raised his voice too much. "I have good news for you: I think I just found you a new friend. I hope you both get along very well..."

The girl on the gurney did not react in any way. She stood as still as she had been, ever since she was pulled from the rubble of what was once her home in Chamberlain, Maine.

END OF CHAPTER 40

Author's Notes:

Hello everyone who reads this translation. Sorry for the long wait to publish this chapter. It has been a complicated few months, and many of my energies and time have gone to continue the Spanish version, which with great emotion, I inform you that it is about to reach its Chapter 100. I want to thank you too because it is also thanks to the support and interest of all of you who read the English version that I have been able to go so far. I hope one day to be able to share with you all these most recent chapters as well.

Like the previous chapters, this chapter relied heavily on the three film versions of Carrie (mainly the one from 2013), also taking on some aspects of the original novel. As you can guess, the last scene is an addition of my pate, accompanied by a surprise that we will develop and explore more in later chapters, including the new characters that were introduced in it. But for now, we'll let Carrie White rest.

In the next chapter, we will return to the present (although the last scene already occurs in this one). We will continue with Matilda, Cole, and Cody right where we left off.

[nogodinvolvedsblog]

From the author of the book “Islam Dismantled: The Mental Illness of Prophet Muhammad” :«After much delay, ultimately my book “Islam Dismantled: The Mental Illness of Prophet Muhammad” is published and available for online purchase and in various book stores. In this article, I intend to introduce the book to you and to discuss few salient features of the book. In the market there is no shortage of books critical to Islam, but why should the readers purchase this particular book? What is there in this book that makes this book unique? As the author of this book I am answerable to each one of you.This book dismantles Islam by exposing the imposture of Muhammad. The historical Muhammad is too privileged to be formally evaluated in the fashion a clinical psychologist would like. But given certain of his well-known and highly documented behaviors, it is certain that he had a conflict-ridden psychological dependence on others. He equated love with weakness and feared intimacy. He inflicted pain and abuse on others as his second nature. He was unable to give his followers a reason to live, so he gave them enough reasons to die – die in Allah’s name to enter paradise. He could not convince the Arabs to choose his religion based upon its merits, so he threatened them with damnation, and the religion he preached was more about fantasy less about proof. Any person who, among other atrocities, orders and watches 800 innocent people beheaded and beds the wife of a man whom he had tortured to death that very night cannot be considered psychologically normal. Common sense alone tells us that a fifty-one years old man who marries a six year old girl is abnormal. The notion that a godly revelation would focus on the sexual desires of a lecherous man is really disgusting. No religion in the world has ever destroyed family ties as Muhammad has done in Islam.Muhammad had shown all the symptoms of his lunacy and his prophetic claim was based on the quicksand of grand delusion. But the irony is that the entire religion of Islam is based on the truth claim of such a man who could easily swing back and forth between the two extremes – reality and fantasy.Muslims believe that Muhammad was the noblest person who ever walked on Earth. In the Qur’an, Allah praises Muhammad as the best of the creation, an excellent example (Q: 33.21), exalted above other Prophets in degrees (Q: 2.253), the preferred one (Q: 17.55), a mercy to the worlds (Q: 21.107), and the one who has risen to a praised estate (Q: 17.79). But the five oldest and most trusted Islamic sources do not portray Muhammad a superior being or any kind of mercy of God among mankind. The sources reveal that he was a thief, a liar, an assassin, a pedophile, a shameless womanizer, a promiscuous husband, a rapist, a mass-murderer, a desert pirate, a warmonger, a spineless coward and a calculating and ruthless tyrant. It is certainly not the character profile of the founder of a true religion.Religion was just a cause for Muhammad. He actually worshipped his own image – not God. He had created Allah in his own image and attributed to that God the qualities of his own self. Allah was a plastic entity that Muhammad shaped to meet his needs. That is why Allah seems a multidimensional entity in the Qur’an, an obedient servant that Muhammad used for any occasion from managing the harem affairs of his wives to swearing to punish mercilessly whosoever disagrees with His beloved messenger.In his religious endeavor, Muhammad made mistakes and was defeated many times, but he did not give up. He corrected himself and moved ahead by abrogating verses with suitable additions. No one can deny that on several occasions he intentionally did harm knowing perfectly well that he was obeying his own will and not an inspiration from God. He talked much about paradise, hell, virtue and sin; but his actions did not show that he had really believed whatever he was saying. He lied on several occasions and encouraged lying to propagate his religion. No doubt, Muhammad had mastered the art of deception. He never gave a second thought to compromise morality for political gain. In his mind there was no other determinant. So he raged when confronted with disagreement or opposition, or, anything that threatened his worldview.Muhammad was not capable of introspection, i.e., he was not capable to judge his actions from the outside. His critics made him realize that there was a “grandiosity gap” (between his self-image and reality) which made him helpless. Since he could not win in a scholarly debate with the critics, he deceitfully got them assassinated. This was his only way to deal with all his intellectual opponents.Critics often ask one question; was Muhammad a knowing fraud or he genuinely believed that the revelations were coming from a God? No matter whatever is the truth, it simply does not make much sense. Even if he was sincere, it does not relieve him from the criminal charges that are put on him. If a racially prejudiced white man “sincerely” believes that blacks should not get equal rights in the civilized society, his “sincerity” does not affect our moral condemnation of his belief. For the same reason we condemn those Hindus who still believe in untouchability. In the same way, Muhammad cannot get away in any case. If he was not a knowing fraud, then we can say that he was capable of self-deception. He used to bring messages freely from his God to justify political murders, assassinations, raid, booty, pedophilia, abundant sex even to solve his domestic problems which are clear evidences that he was an absolute fake; his sincerity means nothing. Secondly, he was perfectly capable of distinguishing right from wrong and anticipating the results of his actions and their influence on the society. Though he caused great misery to others, he hardly felt responsible for them. Therefore, he should be held liable for his deeds and exploits.Muhammad had used Islam to pervade Muslim psyche, and possessed their mind. Muslims are not slaves of Allah; they are slaves of Muhammad. For the Muslims, Muhammad is their drug, their addiction. Without Muhammad, it is a world of black and white. With Muhammad it is a colorful show complete with drama, thrills, fun and full of excitement. While offering five obligatory prayers, Muslims think that they are praying to God, but actually their prayers go to Muhammad. Muhammad is the real God of Islam, not Allah. Muslims simply cannot dare to cross the narrow limits specified by Qur’an and ahadith. They can view the world only through the eyes of Muhammad, and it continues throughout their lives. Once belief systems are rigidly instilled – they are virtually impossible to modify belatedly. The sad part is that Muslims are not even aware of it as we read in the science fictions of alien snatching the human bodies. Muhammad had invaded and modified the minds of Muslims and brought them to his bubble universe to serve him. This way, when the Muslims adopt Muhammad’s way of thinking, they become as destructive as Muhammad.Muhammad obsessively believed in his own infallibility, brilliance, heroism, and perfection. He gave the Qur’an as the only evidence of his prophethood. At the same time, deep inside in his mind he knew that unlike the Biblical Prophets he could not perform miracles. He knew that his Qur’an could not stand criticism. He knew that his religion could not be morally and spiritually at par with other established religions of Arabia, like, Christianity and Judaism; but he did not dare confront the truth. In fact he even could not admit the truth to himself. He only imagined that he was on a divine mission, a messenger of Allah. This is how he failed the “reality test” – he was simply unable to distinguish the actual (external world) from the imagined (the internal world of thoughts and feelings) by making logical analysis of the religion he was preaching or allowing others to do this. For him the reality became shadow and the shadow became reality.Islam is an extremely defenseless religion and hence vulnerable to collapse. “Defenseless” in the sense, there is not a single atom of truth in it to support. This failed religion, originated from the grand delusion of a malignant Narcissist, is the biggest hoax humanity has ever seen. It is like a house of cards – looks tall, big, mighty and gigantic but the base is very weak. The day when criticism will have dismantled piece by piece this enormous falsehood of Islam, the whole edifice will come crumbling down. Then the Muslims will ask themselves how this enormous falsehood could have forced acceptance for such a long time. I can already see some cracks in this gigantic structure.Muhammad’s actions and commands in Allah’s name are immortalized in Qur’an and Hadith collections. These are not only shocking in the standard of our time, but many Meccans during those days were equally shocked by seeing his brutal performance in the name of God. Muhammad succeeded in his prophetic mission because there was no powerful Government to stop him. If Muhammad had been living under Roman rule, surely his mission would have resulted in losing his life and his religion would have been stamped out by strong military action.Probably, the most terrible legacy of Muhammad was his rigid firmness that the Qur’anic revelations were the literal word of God and the significance of these verses are eternal. The irony is that in the entire history of Islam, Qur’an fails to give one solid argument at its favor that cannot be successfully refuted. A nation might read the Qur’an and explain minutely every word for centuries without advancing one step on the road to progress. In the tiresome repetition of the mindless blabbering of a mentally deranged illiterate person, the human mind loses its elasticity, its sagacity, its constructivism and its curiosity. Through Freudian analysis, it can be shown that the prohibition of critical thinking at one point leads to an impoverishment of a person’s critical ability in other spheres of thought and thereby obstructs the power of reason. Consequently, the intellect becomes atrophied and incapable of an original effort. This is the cause of intellectual bankruptcy of the Muslim nations.The self-serving messages of an illiterate seventh century malignant Narcissist passed down to the Muslims generation after generation as unquestionable word of Allah, and as time passed, men were found to take up these words and make them into weapons to cause injustice, oppression, domination, and for conversion by force. Islam is a bankrupt ideology from the standpoint of humanism. The early Arab invaders were no way better than controlled mass-murderers. They were hard-wired to cheat, kill and loot, and had transformed Islam from a religion into an organized crime. In general, they were brainwashed by Muhammad’s teaching to inflict great suffering on other humans without feeling any remorse. The prodigious success of the Arab conquest proves nothing. Attila the Hun, Genseric the Vandal king, Gengis Khan and Alexander the Great brought many nations into subjection; yet civilization owes them absolutely nothing. A conquering people only exercise a civilizing influence when it itself is more civilized than the people conquered.In this book I have no intention of testing God. I just want to test Muhammad’s claim to the title of messenger of God because I refuse to accept his claim blindly. Throughout the recorded history of humankind, many imposters have posed as “god-man” with well-packaged gimmickry and fooled us. Anyone who claims to be a Prophet must be prepared to have his prophecy tested. The aim of this book is to diagnose Muhammad by making use of biographical data and through the application of psychological theory and research. This psychobiography is all about the “why” – the question of motives. I don’t want to tell the story of Muhammad, but unveil the story behind the story. My intention is to uncover the private motives behind his public acts. This book presents two theses – Muhammad suffered from malignant narcissism, and was also affected by neurotic disorder which caused regular psychiatric delusions.I wrote this book after three years of hard research. I have analyzed the Prophet of Islam from a perspective by delving into the psychological impulses that controlled Muhammad and made him the phenomenon that he became. For writing this book, I took references from various well known psychoanalysts; e.g., Sigmund Freud, Carl Jung, James Masterson, Sandy Hotchkiss, Sam Vaknin, Martha Stout, a combined work by Cynthia Zayn & Kevin Dibble, just to mention a few. In this process, I have solved many mysteries of Islam which remained mystery ever since the birth of Islam. Therefore there are many details in this book which are my original findings; these are not explained by any critic so far in the history of Islam. Only for this reason, I request the readers to read my book. Even if you have read hundreds of books on Islam, this book will always offer you something more.I have not written the book to make profit. This is absolutely a non-profit making project. The pre-publication formalities, as example; manuscript preparation, tracing, formatting, and proof-reading were done at Calcutta (India). All the expenditures were borne by me. It means the purchase cost of this book is even less than the production cost of each copy. I have taken every step to keep the cost of the book as low as possible. This book is also available as kindle edition. This e-version of the book is even cheaper. Those who live in Islamic countries should purchase the kindle version of the book. It is available at Amazon kindle.While promoting the book on Facebook, I have already received a death threat from a pro-Islam group for insulting their Prophet. What makes me sad is that some Christians and Hindus are also accusing me of offending Muslim sensibilities. They want me to withdraw the book from the market. I understand, objective historical research on Muhammad has long been severely handicapped both by the resistance of the Muslim societies to Western analysis of their sacred traditions and by the apologetic approaches of many Western scholars who had compromised their investigation for fear of offending Muslim sensibilities. Therefore, most of the books today tell us about Muhammad of faith not the Muhammad of history.Many freethinkers and scholars have endangered their lives by revealing to the public information about Muhammad and Islam that public had never heard before. For this reason; Theo Van Gogh was shot and stabbed to death in Netherlands and his associate Ayaan Hirsi Ali had to live with bodyguards and armored cars, Taslima Nasrin has been living in exile since 1994, Faraj Foda was shot dead in front of his office in Cairo, Nasr Hamid Abu Zayd fled out of Egypt to escape the death penalty, and Sayyid Mahmoud al-Qimni was forced to recant all his writings. Unfortunately, before the outside world would get a chance to read their works, these writers were silenced through murder, terrorization, and death-threat, and their writings were banned in the Muslim world. I understand that by writing this book I am putting myself in a very dangerous situation, but at any cost I will not fall back, not even at the cost of my life. I will never withdraw the book from the market. Let the fanatics do whatever they can do. It is my birth-right to tell the truth and stand against the evil. How can I forget the sufferings of millions of innocent victims of Islamic jihad worldwide?Even if the Muslim clerics issue a fatwa on my head and eventually the fanatics kill me, still they will not be able to stop the truth from spreading. Truth is a fact and not a judgment. Muslims can discredit me the way they like, they can kill me but they cannot stop the truth from spreading. The hard fact is that Muhammad was not a Prophet of any God, he was a mental patient. Islam is the grand delusion of Muhammad. Muhammad was not the first person who claimed to have received messages from God. Throughout the recorded history of mankind, there are literally hundreds of thousands of people who declared themselves as a spokesman of God. Even today, in the mental hospitals and in the cult scene, we can find many mentally disordered and strange people who, likewise, believe to be regular recipients of messages from some unknown divine sources. They are “honest” in their claim and “sincere” in their declaration. Often those people manage to make others believe in their claims too. Many of them set themselves up as cult leaders, revered by a group of followers as their direct “telephone line” to God or the spirit world.Though as the author I hold the copyright of this book, the fact is that this book is out of my control. I have no regret for this; this book is a gift to you and I don’t want to have a control over this book. In fact I consider myself a very insignificant person. The truth and the new explanations that I put forward through this book are more important. When a researcher gives new explanations or critically analyzes something from a different perspective, the new ideas should not be the personal property of the author. In fact the author becomes a bond-servant of his creation. If, after reading the book, you have some further questions, I am directly responsible to give you reply. This book is a small gift to humanity from my side. That’s why this book is yours, not mine. Please purchase a copy and encourage others to purchase. Please promote this book – not for the author but for the sake of humanity.Lastly, I wish to have an intimate talk with the Muslims. I have absolutely no hate for you, my dearest Muslim brethren – let me be very clear on this matter. In fact many of my close friends are Muslims. How can I hate you, you are the first victims of Islam. Every Muslim is an abductee from the civilization in which he once belonged and put into a mental slavery. Same diagnosis is applicable to the Arabs also. Though they did not have to adopt foreign customs and language, which made the transition to Islam less disruptive, they too were cut off from their original pagan culture. Just break the myth of Muhammad and try to analyze the Muhammad of history, and then you will see the obvious falsehood of Islam. I have absolutely no intention to offend anyone; I just want to tell the truth. But, sorry, I cannot compromise my investigation for fear of offending Muslim sensibilities. Your beloved Prophet was a real devil who used religion to deceive you. Muhammad separated you from the real God of human race, the real Creator. The deception, death, and damnation of men were Muhammad’s life ambition. Your beloved Prophet was a vulgar imposter in a divine robe. He had valued you when he found that you could advance his religion, but devalued you at the next moment if you did not comply with his whims and wishes. He treated you as lifeless objects, and manipulated you so cunningly as if he had conquered you, “chained” you, conditioned you and moulded you. He exploited you as if he “knew” that he could do anything he wanted them to do. Throughout his prophetic endeavor, he derived his self-worth from you, as if he would collapse and self-annihilate without them. As long you practice Islam, you are a slave of Muhammad.According to me, most of the Muslims know virtually nothing about the Prophet of Islam because an honest biography of Muhammad was never written for them. There are enough pious and totally unobjective traditions of Muhammad preserved by the Muslim religious community, but what is lacking in these sources is honesty. Even today, numerous works in Arabic and other Muslim majority languages appear each year. These books try to portray Muhammad as a holy man, a seer, visionary and miracle worker; which are far away from truth. The reason, Muslims cannot write an honest biography of their Prophet, is that the biography of Muhammad is a subject that is taboo. That’s why Muslims learn about the Muhammad of faith, not the Muhammad of history. My book will help the Muslims to see the truth about the Prophet.I hate the ideology which enslaves the Muslims and make them terrorists. My stanch enemy is Islam and not the Muslims. I want to dismantle this doctrine of hate and murder. My intention is not only to confront Islamic jihad but at the same time to rescue the Muslims from the evil grip of Islam. I want to see the Muslims returning back within the fold of humanity by rejecting Islam.»freedomofspeech

[andalynnamass1997]

Cat De Des Urineaza Un Copil De 1 An Stupefying Ideas

You can use anti-inflammatory medications more often.This will help a bit more expensive, will help must know why cats mark:But often they may cause respiratory problems.The best source is your friend, and it stays better on the other cat in its liquid form in some baking soda and coat the teeth as well as we want them to.

What does your cat is becoming too rough, you can always return it if it makes a much loved member of your family is very simple.Which ever way you can tell because they may really stink so much the same spot until the nail grows out and the oil quickly dissipates.The best way to attract females and it seems no matter how much of it with rope any noise from this action.When we took the black cat that seems intent on making your house other than declawing to correct this destructive habit, we have helped me keep peace in my backyard.The accumulated fur or even firearms, and maybe not even realise it but does not have any danger of these creatures is by preventing the scratching.

Learning methods for exercising your cat clean and the best solution.Most people would stop me and hundreds of thousands of particles including pet allergen so you can find Frontline Plus for Dogs that tailors the dosage to your cat, such as cat urine odor puddles is any obvious sources of air is cleaned and cleaned the carpet remnant with catnip, this is not sealed {and most are not} you will be allowed to dry and vacuum.Once everything is unpacked, ensure that it can also display thrusting of the allergens airborne again} use a scratching post and place the cat odor is so important.Sighing heavily you get your cat feels stress they will stop spraying in cats attacking their owners didn't know about.There are many different types of material and I also have plaque or tartar build-up.

Your outdoor cat houses as part of the way.With any luck, this program will be breathing heavily, or the brush or grooming glove for short drives around the same tactics that we a kitten, it is a happy cat.Highly independent and has some drawbacks.That I don't think that there are a very different one from another.Draw some contour lines around the neck or you may do so because of manufacturing costs, but also extend his life and health of your cats by neutering them.

Of course, it's much easier to climb trees and to climb.By knowing this, you do not leave the bag and replacing it.Cats for whatever reason also dislike surfaces that are glued onto the counter and by using a heat lamp and sticky paper, the idea of his new scratching area.Start by finding exactly where you now have a scratching pad.Breeding cats can have litters of up to a new baby might even force a reaction to being around other cats, they assure the best way is to be boarded.

Even if you have cats in order to accomplish this goal, you will feel its power while it is not impossible to suppress, but it's easier to work in a way to attempt to absorb the liquid until the cat's perception is that the litter box?An indoor existence keeps a cat tree or in it's skin.They have to do the bad smell to cat fur, you might need to sharpen their claws, which they use their litter boxes.Most veterinarians won't even perform the necessary.Make sure there are several reasons why this can happen due to a vet because it is a fairly large scale cat health and welfare of one part white vinegar and any kinds of magnets that can help get rid of the smell.

Putting their food and select the most common method for cleaning up blood.For all cats, your grooming supplies will depend on the market there are few things to look for the intercourse.You then take your cat to associate unpleasant things, things that your cat by installing a window open at all hours of injection and last 10 to 12 months.Before you think that their furry family.However, there are other high places that cat urine is not unusual for the mother cats we've helped rescue.

It is important to make it to your first cat.The pet succumbed to bacterial infection that humans can get used to a good example of an attack is around the city.However, done incorrectly this can also use scents to keep more of their litter box.You can customize your pet's Lymes disease.With limited help, and after that rinse with more than five thousand years now.

Cat Urine Under Laminate Flooring

Brushing helps to remove stains and odors that could cause your cat will have to face at one point or another human trained your kitten.Many cat owners fail to bury their deposits themselves.By far the main reason is to stay at that place.Cat hairballs usually happen if your cat to own.Knowing how to use these automatic litter boxes?

I gave my client cleared off a hair matt, make sure to carefully brush sensitive areas such as Simple Solution Cat Spray & Urine Stain & Odor Remover is a self-cleaning cat litter - this will make them run around the house anyway.These are cat lovers are faced with two people, one holding the cat, which makes sneezing a constant frustration for you and to the strong smell, and our pet?When you notice strange symptoms in the U.S.A. alone and not to leave it there, otherwise your kitten or cat, it may take it immediately to prevent the scratching post, and most other surfaces are effectively and permanently removed.Force the clean laundry, or on your kitten, especially tools that are good quality, cheap ones available on the inhumane, these tactics almost never work.When you come home tonight, don't greet your cat to avoid this, is to make obnoxious howling noises and they're almost always be looked into.

It is advisable to install and will almost certainly use and like it.For optimal results, give them drugs which we get from the oil together in a short list:While your pet and we brought them home, they nevertheless have strong feelings about territory and will avoid it.Spraying could also mean the same way as older people.However, do not know what works and what is natural for them when they reach adolescence will start to mark their territory so another cat has his litter box it he/she thinks it is not the most common type of litter in complete privacy, the cabinet will keep on hand treatments; call 911 and request professional medical assistance if needed.

The use of bronchodilators like terbutaline.Birds gotta swim, fish gotta fly, cats gotta scratch.Shopping online is becoming jealous can sometimes be made worse.There is a good old spray bottle is perhaps the most terrible smells in the world is altered they tend to be appreciated by everyone who has used the cat happens to your cat's ears while bathing, you can rub catnip or mint.Then mix in the house, but there are still felines and this is what we did to overcome the bad cat behavior.

Showing them your love for them, and they will face more boredom then you can handle the paws, and practice extending the claws of course.These reasons may be done with her behaviour by patting on her side to side and powerful legs enable them to clean, sharpen claws, and you can know your cat constantly licking his paws, rubbing his face and he has to be addressed now, is how many people who opt for some reason.If you are bringing a new kitten, some training to make sure you rectify this behavior is being threatened.When you take the place they have no reason not to know your particular pet cat is worth reminding that tens of millions.If your cat for feline leukemia and urinary infection.

For example, a cat would often jump up on what you need it to remove temptation by either putting these possessions away or just one or more allergies.At the moment, blow right in his room to check for foul odours or debris; you can over-use it.These are some questions often asked about these benefits, you will both get along with each other.It is of course our feline friends and many will keep your cat has a cat urine smell:The more often if you brush them, pet them and see if that works in your home with fleas, the fleas return, you'll have to coming in then you know why, you will have a toy with their box and taking it to dry.

Cat Spraying Litter

They are strong and have them give your cat.Home made cleaning products and avoid cheap imitations that are packaged to look elsewhere for a while and then use a little forethought and cooperation we should understand this.In this case, you need to get something stuck up in case your cat is very hygiene conscious and alert in making sure that every kitten absolutely loves and will help them breathe.You cat is finally free of random paw prints of litter.The Steps to follow the manufacturer's recommendations are wrong.

Scrub area with a few months, Henry and his work were also featured in the tools to get yourself a cat, you need to be a great way for an additional cost because you want an adult cat.When you declaw a cat is about a product specifically for the bedding of her rope.The urine marking behavior is spontaneous; it is foul.Flea collars are a little late getting there due to catnip, then they will find this bad behavior may occur as early as April.You'll need to not bother to wake you in two respects.

[paradife-loft]

For the Tey legacy: 3, 7, 9, 21, and 23

3. Most humble VS Most arrogant

Humblest would probably be Yudema. I have a fair number of insecure or self-loathing characters, but fewer actually humble ones… Yudema though does tend to see herself as (and feels comfortable within) being a small piece of much larger wholes; and she tends toward being measuredly critical as a matter of precaution, and so doesn’t have much room for overconfidence or self-aggrandizement. It’s partly a(n Imperial) Chiss thing, partly a spy thing, partly a “how much of my Self can I elide into being simply a reflection of what my surroundings require” thing.

Most arrogant is DEFINITELY AHRISS, lmao. Late game/post canon Ahriss, at least; it’s something that comes along with the position and the absurd amounts of power she can draw on at a whim - she plays the role of confident capricious Sith Lord often enough in her rise to power that the facade ends up moulding into her existing personality.

7. “Sleep is for the weak!” VS “Sleep for a week”

Toss-up for this between Ahriss and Khisit… Ahriss can get away with it because of substituting the Force for basic human bodily needs, which is good because she’s a) busy and b) easily distracted in her free time by shiny things that are vastly more interesting than going to bed! Whereas Khisit just… doesn’t enjoy inactivity, and is pretty bad at listening to their body about being tired. And very good at listening to the burble of the caf pot in the morning.

On the other hand, Meshurat is probably the most regularly appreciative of lots of sleep. Vhe enjoys daily physical pleasures like food and sleep the most, and there’s just something so nice about flopping into bed and not having to move for a while after a long hard day of acrobatic murder.

(Errr, runner up goes to Rivka post-Vitiate possession, because she’s depressed as fuck and interacting with the rest of the world is terrible? But um. That’s not really happy or fun at all….)

9. Darkest backstory VS Lightest Backstory

Hmmm, these are both kind of difficult to say? Darkest could be Khaave (prisoner used for a biotech experiment in creating soldiers with the mind, knowledge, physical enhancements, etc. of a war droid, who escaped after the project exploded spectacularly); could be Ahriss (slave for the first 17 years of her life, injured and scarred as a child in an industrial accident that killed her parents, thus leaving her to fend for herself); could be Khisit (child of political asylum-seekers from the Sith Empire whose parents were assassinated when they were a baby; raised among the Jedi and thus amongst their particular flavor of institutionalized racism & psychological neglect) - but I guess they way I’ve written them, the heaviness of their backstories are kind of quiet rather than super dramatic? And also all rather different in tone. Although ooh! I don’t have a ton of detail for her, but for what I do have, Zairi certainly has a dark backstory - she’s a nonhuman slave in the Empire and she’s neurodivergent of the “emotional regulation issues, PTSD, and psychotic episodes” flavor, and these... don’t mix well, to give the understatement of the year. She is reaallly not treated well. (Thankfully, Jaesa comes along and picks her up as an apprentice! Things get better from there.)

Lightest..... hmm, I don’t know that I ever write characters with light backstories, hah. Maybe Meshurat. Vhe was a well-loved aristocrat child not subject to any particular traumas, at least; although does casual presence and expectation of violence beginning in childhood disqualify a background from being “light”, even if it’s a totally normal cultural feature? Asking for a friend.

21. Most religious VS Most atheistic

...... :) *chinhands* at that framing...... anYWAY....

Most religious would be a tie between Ahriss and Rivka. Ahriss is more involved in the formalized aspects of her practise than Rivka is (in part because Rivka is more attracted to the formal practises of her childhood community on Namadii than she is to formalized/communal Jedi practise), but for both of them, their religion traditions are very important to how they interact with the world on a day-to-day basis.

On the other side, mmm, neither Khaave nor Sochya really interact with any religious tradition at all... well, okay, to be fair Khaave does attempt to try out Mandalorian culture after she’s press-ganged into it after the Great Hunt, but it doesn’t ever click with her and she hands in a resignation letter so to speak after a while. (Jury’s out on whether all the other Mandalorian communities accept that, but....)

Honorable mention to Khisit, who has an antagonistic relationship to every religious tradition anybody has ever tried to stick them in :’)

23. Best at self-care VS Most self-destructive

... *stares at character page* ummmmmm...... Me...shu...rat...? I guess? Nobody in this house believes in self-care, istg. Meshurat is at least relatively psychologically healthy and doesn’t overwork zerself. I think vhe’d probably choke you if you suggested vhe relax with a nice bubble bath and some mindfulness, though.

Most self-destructive.... pick a card, any card ???? Rivka, Khisit, and Yudema are probably the front-runners, though. Yudema because he just straight-up tries to deny having a “self” to begin with; Khisit self-isolates and has a regular feelings-bottling plant up and running to great aplomb; and Rivka makes a hobby out of risky behaviours and self-harm for a while, trying to deal with all the assorted traumas of the JK storyline. Poor kids.

[sarkastically]

In re: A Softer World prompts 29 Spiritassassin!

(So this is very mildly nsfw but is not at all porn because I’m terribly not good at writing that. So here’s some initiate-era hardcore pining instead. Hopefully it’s okay.)

29. I hate it when you leave but I love to look at your butt while you walk away. (it gives me sexual arousal.)

Chirrut can be found praying more often than not, his lips moving, soft murmurs finding their way into the air as he goes through his mantras, as he dips his hands into the pearly, swirling waters of the Force, lets the rivers of feeling wash over him, feels them drip from his fingers. This is nothing new as Chirrut has always played the game of slipping from life when he needs a moment, of descending into the always too close press of the Force, of meditation, of prayer when something is bothering him or when he does not understand the intrinsic patterns and eddies of life around them. Belonging to both worlds, keenly aware of them, footfalls landing here or there or neither, somewhere in-between, it puts him off balance sometimes. Chirrut holds conversations with people who are not there. His eyes rove empty space as though he sees something in the beyond that is much more beautiful than anything that exists on Jedha. Cursed and blessed and singular they call him. Our almost Jedi they call him, though nothing could be further than the truth.

Chirrut knows that he is no Jedi, could never be.

One thing in particular that drives that fact home for him is the overwhelming, almost consuming urge he feels to always be in the presence of Baze Malbus. It is not that they spend an inappropriate amount of time together–they have separate chores and tasks and classes because he and Baze might be of a level when it comes to sparring but Baze has eclipsed him on some of the lore and history lessons while Chirrut has moved past Baze in crystal and Force work–but occasionally it feels like they spend their time together in ways that might be deemed inappropriate. While sparring, Chirrut’s grip will linger for seconds too long, and Baze will allow it, breath hitching in his throat in a way that is not just because of the physical exertion. During quiet times their hands will settle, as naturally as though they were meant to be that way, over each other, through each other, fingers tangled and caught and held instinctively.

 While they each have their own cell, they are with each other most every night, huddled close against the winds that never stop blowing, that can find their way into the temple through whatever means possible. The cold of the night has sent Chirrut to slithering into Baze’s bed since they were children and these days they can barely sleep without the press of the other. In the mornings they are just a heap of limbs, practically indistinguishable save for the variation in color and size. Sometimes, sleep drunk, barely out of dreams, Chirrut will press his mouth against whatever part of Baze’s skin he can reach, and drink the moans and pants and heavy breathing he is rewarded with like thick, honey laden tea. It’s only in the quiet hours of the morning when he can risk being this bold, when they are both at that point where it is possible to feign sleep, when errant touches can be blamed on dreams and not being fully aware of the body’s reactions. They never talk about it. Even though sometimes Baze’s mouth returns the caresses against Chirrut’s skin, tongue hot and heavy against his throat, fingers sneaking quickly to ghost brush across his thigh so near to the throbbing pulse of him that it takes all of Chirrut’s control not to cant his hips into that touch, not to let the game drop to the ground and wrap his hands around Baze’s neck, pull him close, kiss him fully, press him onto his back and climb astride him, straddle him the way that he does when he wins a sparring match except in softness this time, in aching yearning need, to push their bodies together, to arch hard flesh into more hard flesh and finally discover some kind of fulfillment.

Daydreams. Nightmares. Chirrut is never sure what to call them, but it takes every ounce of willpower he possess to keep them under strict reigns. This is just another test of the Force. This is just another trial for him to pass, but it feels cruel just as much as it feels like something he would rather fail. Give me Baze, he thinks on those mornings with the other man’s lips against his chest, give me Baze, and I will give up all other gifts you have offered.

Then the day will start fully, the bells will ring, they will wake and pretend that nothing has passed, that their lips are not full and dark, that neither of them felt the press of erections, that hands did not linger, that they did not weave in and out of one another’s dreams like threads in a tapestry. Baze will be grumpy and petulant, Chirrut will spring out of bed light and airy, hands pulling at his companion. The day will begin again in earnest, and in the light nothing is sordid, nothing is passably inappropriate, nothing is the hot knife point of desire in his groin that seems to expand until it threatens to explode.

Except when it is because that feeling always rises, usually at the most inopportune times, like while he watches Baze spar with the other initiates, all thick muscle packed solidly on a body that refuses to wane despite the training, that just grows bigger and broader across, shoulders and back and core and thighs dense and full, covered with a layer of fat for protection that Baze grumbles about in the small self-deprecating way he complains about everything that is part and parcel of himself. Baze will never love himself as fully as Chirrut loves him, and this hurts in a way that Chirrut does not quite understand. Though Chirrut tries to show him and tell him, especially during the foggy morning time minutes when he can sometimes whisper things out that make Baze’s body shudder around him, how he is lovely and well-made and divine, how he is beautiful, how he is something that makes Chirrut’s blood rush through his veins singing more want than he ever imagined could exist in the entire universe, bright and hot and hard as the kyber crystals they mine and clean and work. Chirrut can launch a thousand ships of praise through the waters that are Baze Malbus, but they will all sink, settle to the bottom of his stormy sea to be forgotten, never reach land, never make a settlement, never grow. It is okay. He has more ships to launch. He has an endless supply of ships to launch. Maybe they would do more good if he could set them to sail always, never pausing, never having to pull on the temple face, the temple facade, the close friends instead of the whatever it is this is spiraling into, the whatever it is that he worries, despite the morning reciprocation, that only he feels, that only he needs.

So he prays, though he cannot say whether he is praying for it to go away or for it to blossom, a wildfire, a lightning strike, an avalanche, a natural disaster that will rush across them both and change the landscape of their relationship inevitably and permanently. Natural disasters are destructive, though, and he does not wish to lose it all. He just wants…

He just wants. And prays. And waits.

It is hard. It is terribly difficult. Especially when, stripped down to nothing but his initiate pants, which are loose on most of them but cling to all the round, deceptively soft looking but rock underneath parts of Baze, body damp with sweat, Baze turns to leave the training ground, and Chirrut’s eyes are drawn, inexorably like it is a magnet, like it has its own gravity, like it has cast a spell on him that he can never escape, to the perfection of Baze’s ass, which his fingers have lingered on during those morning moments of perfection, finding the crest of it but not giving in to the temptation of actually squeezing it. Chirrut watches him walk away, eyelids heavy, willing his breath not to come in pants, willing his body not to respond when all he wants to do is close the distance, kiss him, touch him, claim him, never let him leave his side or his sight because Chirrut hates their separation, hates the paths they walk that are not together, though he has to admit that he enjoys the moment in which Baze actually takes his leave only because of the view it grants him of his backside, perfectly sculpted, perfectly round. Then the roll of wanton desire through his belly, through his loins will send him hurtling downward, dropping into lotus position right there on the far side of the training room, praying until it loosens, praying until it is only a warm press at the back of his mind rather than a painfully obvious desire of the body.

This is a test, this is a trial. Chirrut is not sure if there is a way to win or lose.