#I wanted to record this for those moments when the inner demons get too loud

[theanonymousninja247]

Revelation

When you're doing research for a University Assignment and accidentally discover some sCiEnTiC eViDeNcE about how you've felt for YEARS, but never had words for it, so you just assumed you were oversensitive with a flair for the dramatics.

Here's the link if anybody else was curious

[littleredwing89]

AGENT OF CHAOS - PART THREE

AGENT OF CHAOS - PART THREE

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Everything flew by him in a blur as he sped through the streets of Gotham. His foot slammed down harder on the accelerator desperate to get there faster. Every second counted. He knew all too well what The Joker was like. The way his face slipped as you defied him, terrified Jason. He’d seen that look right before receiving a crowbar to the face.

Warnings – Language. Kidnapping. Stalking. Mild Violence. Angst. Hurt.

Word Count: 4,870

A/N: This is the final chapter everyone, sorry for the little delay, I was working on a few of the actions scenes to ensure they were good. I really hope you all like this xoxo

~~~

It had been almost a month. Every lead turned into a dead end. Nothing. Much like the Joker himself, no one knew a thing. The whole thing was tearing Jason apart. He’d barely slept. He’d maybe had 3 hours per night. If that, and he was convinced the only reason he got sleep was because Bruce had slipped him something in his coffee.

The fourth cassette tape came with a dead yellow rose and a rotten apple. He pushed play on the recorder and swallowed thickly as the grainy camera zoomed in on your face. You looked pale. Your cheeks looked hollow and your once colourful eyes looked gaunt. Haunted.

“Well Jason, I’m a man of my word...I’ve been looking after her so good”, Joker laughed hysterically and smoothed his hand down your cheek, smacking it lightly. The slap caused you to jolt in the chair. A sharp gasp flew out of your chapped lips.

Jason felt Bruce’s hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. The notion sent a brief wave of calm through Jason. Maybe this was how Bruce felt all those years ago...when he received similar tape of ..of himself. Jason turned back to the screen and focused his eyes. Searching for a clue. Anything. Something to bring you back to him.

“She’s been such a good little princess bird boy...she’s done everything I asked...and more”, Joker whistled happily as he tapped your nose with a wicked smile. Jason felt his heart stop and looked directly into your eyes through the screen. Good he wanted to hold you in his arms and never let you go. 

The tape skipped and replayed the same thing back, “...and more”. It skipped again, “...and more”. Jason growled and the tape paused before going completely black.

His fist smashed into the computer keyboard, pieces of black plastic scattering across the desk. Jason released a loud sobbing noise and sank to the cold stone floor of the bat cave. His eyes scrunched shut tightly, imagining you were in front of him. Giving him that silly smile you always did when you first woke up. It was one of his favourite smiles. You had hundreds of different types of smiles. The one you gave him when he hugged you randomly. The one you’d give him when he told you a stupid joke. The one you’d show him when you were both standing down one of the grocery aisles for no reason at all.

“Jason...son - we will find her - I promise you”, Bruce’s deep voice shattered Jason’s illusion of you in his mind.

“It’s been so long...what if-”, Jason ran a hand over his face. The stubble was longer, causing him to itch.

“Don’t”, Bruce warned, “don’t think like that. We will find her”.

~~~

The last cassette tape Jason received was covered in a dark, red sticky substance. Jason knew what it was but he didn’t know if it was yours. Before Jason could even think about playing it, Bruce had prized it from his fingers.

“Jason we need to analyse the blood, it might give us a clue”, his voice was stable and deep. He attempted to reassure Jason with a firm grip to the shoulder but it did nothing. Jason felt empty without you.

“We need to watch-”, Jason started but was interrupted by Bruce.

“No, I’ll watch it. You need to get some sleep, let me do this Jason. Please”, Bruce pleaded desperately, “You haven’t slept in over 48 hours”.

Jason laughed but it was hollow and sharp, “You really think I can sleep knowing she’s stuck with that fucking psycho?!”.

Bruce sighed and ran a hand over his face, “Jason I know you want to get Y/N back”, he placed the cassette onto a high tech scanning machine, it bleeped repeatedly as it scanned over the material, “But we all need to be working together and that means recharging our batteries”.

Jason scoffed and pushed past Bruce looking over the computer scanner typing something into the system, “So you’re telling me you went and had an eight hour sleep when Joker caught me?”.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, “Jason”.

“JUST STOP!!”, Jason's voice cracked as he shouted and for a moment, he sounded like the broken man in the abandoned shopping mall that long Halloween night many years ago.

“I-I need to do this Bruce. I-I have to, for Y/N”, his voice was scratchy and raw. 

Bruce simply nodded and turned around. He extracted the cassette from the blood stained cloth and pushed it into the player to the right. Bruce took a secondary glance to Jason, giving him one last option but Jason just stared at the screen, waiting to see what the tape would show.

The second the tape played, the batcave was filled with your screams. They sounded broken and dry. Jason’s heart shattered. The shards stabbing him painfully. As you came into view on the camera, your long h/c hair was matted and stuck to your face. Blood staining it a deep red.

The Joker came into the view of the camera and smiled wide, his teeth showing.

“Jason, I see why you’re so attached to this woman, she’s very fiery...her spirit is impenetrable”.

A flicker of evil flew through his eyes at that word and a sick smile slid onto his lips, “but that’s fine. I’m sure I can find more penetrable spots”.

You tug harshly at your binds as he turned and came closer to you, a small blade held in his gloves hand.

“Hold still princess or I might accidentally cut an important part of you...or slit something”.

The blade cut the straps of your top, and the material fluttered down uselessly to the floor, exposing your padded black bra. The Joker whistled appreciatively and winked back at the camera.

“I say Jason...maybe I’m missing out not having a significant other...especially when they’re as beautiful as this”.

Jason had edged so close to the screen Bruce had to pull him back. Tears were running hotly down his cheeks and he swore he tasted blood from biting down on his bottom lip.

Your voice echoed through the empty warehouse room and through the camera speakers, “GO FUCK YOURSELF”.

The Joker smirked down at you and the blade was pressed against the skin of your neck.

“You should watch your manners, princesses don’t speak like that”.

You gulped and looked into his soulless eyes and laughed. It almost sounded as maniacal as his.

“I’m not your fucking princess”.

You spat at his face. Your spit mingled with blood from the earlier smack around the face.

“He’ll come for me...I know he will. And when he does, it’ll be all over for you”.

Something snapped and you saw his eyes darken. His face twisted and the scowl was demonic.

“You filthy fucking bitch!”, he roared and dropped the knife to wipe his face.

Joker turned to the camera and glowered, “I hope you’re watching Jason whilst I teach this rotten little whore some manners!”.

The first blow caused you to cry out in agony. It was harsh and fast. The sound to Jason was ear splitting. The second hit was drawn out and heavy. Designed to bruise. The third was sharp and felt like hundreds of tiny needles piercing your skin. The Joker was laughing wildly all the way through it. Never ceasing his treatment. As he swung his arm back for the fourth hit, the camera jarred and caught a window. Streams of light shone through. Jason could just about make out a sign. It was blurry.

“REWIND AND PAUSE IT BRUCE! There!!!”, he called and waited for Bruce to zoom in.

“Can you clear up that image...that looks like a road sign...”.

Bruce skipped the tape back several seconds, muting the sounds on the screen. The sounds of you getting smacked in the face shaking him to his core. 

“THERE!!! LOOK!! Can you see?!”, Jason pressed his face as close as possible to the screen as Bruce paused it, the image flickered but the road sign was obvious. 

ACE CHEMICALS.

Before Bruce could even react, Jason had launched himself across the cave, guns strapped to his thighs.

“Jason!”.

Jason ignored Bruce and grabbed his helmet, securing it into place whilst dropping extra magazine clips into his inner jacket pockets.

“Jason, we can’t just go in there all guns blazing. That’s what he’ll want! We have to think about this”, Bruce reasoned and moved into his path.

Huffing in annoyance, Jason’s modulator covered it easily, “I’m going to get her whether you come with me or not”.

Bruce looked stunned for a split second before softening his voice, “You’re letting your emotions get the better of you - they’re clouding your judgment Jason”.

He knew he was right, deep down. But the pressure. The torture you must have endured. Everything. It weighed down on Jason and began to suffocate him slowly. The more time he wasted, the worse it was going to be. He couldn’t do it.

“Let me get into my suit and we’ll tackle this together”.

Nodding briefly, Jason watched Bruce make his way across to the darkened corner of the cave where his suit was behind a glass panel. As Bruce pressed his palm into the wall, the biometric scanner bleeped. The case slid open slowly and Bruce began to take out the suit piece by piece. The batarangs refracted the light they caught from the computer screens.

Fuck. It was taking too long, these precious seconds. He could be half way there by now. His bike was too far away, in the garage at the front of the manor. He side eyed the batmobile and swallowed thickly.

“Fuck it”.

Taking the keys from the secret sliding panel on the desk, Jason leapt into the batmobile before starting the engine and speeding out of the cave. He swore he heard Bruce shouting, he was certain he heard several curse words too. Unlike Bruce. But it was taking too long. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t leave you. You needed him. You couldn’t wait any longer.

~~~

Everything flew by him in a blur as he sped through the streets of Gotham. His foot slammed down harder on the accelerator desperate to get there faster. Every second counted. He knew all too well what The Joker was like. The way his face slipped as you defied him, terrified Jason. He’d seen that look right before receiving a crowbar to the face.

“Come on...come on!!”, Jason cursed to himself, hitting the steering wheel in fury. All the money Bruce had and it wouldn’t go any faster? He took a sharp turn heading towards the abandoned warehouse behind ACE Chemicals. He was so close. So much closer to reaching you. He’d deal with Bruce later. He couldn’t have waited any longer. Bruce would just have to get over him ‘borrowing’ the batmobile.

Swerving another corner and narrowly dodging the underpass columns, he pulled up in front of the derelict building. Almost all of the windows were smashed and hued green with mould. Maybe some of the toxins spewed from the factory had helped taint the glass further.

Grabbing both of his pistols, Jason left the car and headed towards the building fire escape. He could hear voices chattering.

“Joker said to keep an eye out for Batman”.

A goon; Jason noted peering around the brick wall spotting two of them. He noticed the metal railings above them creaking slightly in the strong winds.

“It’s been over a month now and there’s been no sign of any of the Bat freaks, it’s fine, let’s go grab a beer. He won’t even notice”, a second one encouraged the other smirking.

“You really want to cross him? He’s fucking nuts. I’m surprised the girl has even lasted this long with him, you know what he’s like”.

Jason’s fist tightened around one of his guns at the mention of you. It had to be you. Silently firing his grapple gun, he flew up the side of the building and made his way towards the goons.

“Trust me”, the first one spoke again, “He won’t even realise we’re gone, plus we might find some chicks to-”.

Perching on the railings above them, Jason leapt down cracking the base of his pistols onto one of their heads.

“Pleasure to meet you both”, Jason kicked out at the second goon hearing the sick crack of his ankle snapping.

Spinning on his heel, Jason grabbed the other goon and threw him face first into the brick wall knocking him unconscious immediately before turning back to the other man on the floor whimpering in pain.

“Where is she?”, Jason’s voice was strained even with the modulator protecting him.

The man refused to answer, dragging himself away from Jason with his hands, mud covering his palms.

Taking a large step, Jason reached the man on the floor and purposely stood onto his swollen ankle before aiming the cocked pistol towards his skull.

“I won’t ask again, where is she?”.

The screech from the man was deafening as Jason applied a hefty amount of pressure to his fractured bone.

“Basement!! She’s in the basement!! Please!!”, he begged as his eyes flickered nervously to the gun.

Jason rolled his shoulders before smashing the hilt of his pistol into his skull knocking him out cold. He turned back towards the fire escape and grappled back up to the roof. He’d have to make his way through the building to get to the basement. To you. And if he knew Joker, he wouldn’t have made it that easy. The two idiots on the front door were a sick joke. Tormenting Jason. Getting you back wouldn’t be an easy task.

~~~

Silently dropping through the window on top of the building, Jason landed onto one of the rusty steel girders. It was dark but his helmet adjusted the night vision so he could see clearly. Several goons patrolling an old foreman’s office in the centre. You had to be in there. He needed to take these idiots out quietly before getting to you.

Swinging across to the next rafter, Jason looked down at the first unsuspecting moron. With the stealth of a panther, he landed silently behind the goon before wrapping his arm around his meaty neck. He struggled against the iron grip of Jason’s forearm but the pressure only intensified the more he thrashed. Eventually the squirming stopped and the goon fell limp in his arms. Jason dragged him across to a darkened corner and dumped him behind some barrels.

As he grappled back up to roof beams, he looked down across at the two henchmen digging out a packet of cigarettes. The idiots had left their guns resting against the far wall. Jason had to chuckle to himself, Joker really was hiring morons. Weren’t these guys supposed to be protection? 

Jason creeped across the rafters towards the two men and grabbed both of his pistols. He had to be silent. He couldn’t alert Joker to his presence.

“This is my last smoke”, one complained bitterly as the cigarette perched between his thin lips.

“I’ll get the next packet, quit your whining”, the second growled and patted his jacket for a lighter, “Fuck, where did I put my lighter?”.

“You’re a fucking moron. You asked to come for a smoke and you don’t even have a light!!”.

Now was his chance. Jason landed between them both, his boots thudding as he hit the concrete floor, “You know, smoking is bad for your health”. Before either of the goons could react, Jason lifted his elbow into the larger man's throat before smashing his pistol into the other man's temple, causing him to drop onto his knees. He slipped his guns back into his holsters quickly before turning to the other goon. He dodged the larger man’s grapple before twisting with ease and kicking out his kneecap. The man gasped but the elbow to his throat had killed off his voice.

Jason threw a heavy right hook into the larger man's nose and watched the blood trickle down his face. This seemed to only infuriate him more and he launched himself towards Jason viciously. Gripping both of his arms, Jason flipped the man over his body and slammed him into the floor hard before hammering punch after punch to his face, knocking him unconscious.

He turned quickly to the other man who was scrambling on his knees for the gun resting against the far wall.

“Sorry bud, but that can’t happen”, Jason grunted and landed a heavy kick to the goons stomach. The man yelped but it was quickly cut off by Jason as he slammed his boot into his face. He dropped onto the floor instantly.

Jason panted heavily and looked around the room, his helmet advising him of one more goon loitering around the door of the office. Looking down at the floor he noticed the floor grates wrapped around the room and more importantly under the henchmen’s feet. Perfect.

He lifted one of the grate coverings quietly and slipped under the flooring. He crouched down and edged around the room. The last goon was much larger and bulkier, with a machine gun strapped around his wide chest.

This goon seemed smarter than the others. Looking around and even checking up in the rafters. He grunted and pressed a button on his jacket, “No boss, still no sign of them...nothing Sir”.

The voice that patched through sent a chill down Jason’s spine. It was a tone that would be forever cemented in his mind, a reminder of his own torment.

“If you get ANY inclination the bat or any of his costumed freaks are in the building, you tell me immediately”.

“Yes boss”.

The static of the radio crackled before cutting off completely. Jason cursed mentally. This had to be precise. Perfection. He had to disable the henchman’s radio unit. Padding over his jacket he searched for the disrupter shooter he had. It wasn’t there. Fuck. He’d fucked up in his rush and left it behind. Fuck. Bruce was right. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Then he heard it. A soft ping from above him. He knew that sound. Jason looked up from the grate and spotted Nightwing hidden in the shadows with his own disrupter. Pointed directly at the goon’s radio system.

“Thought you might need a hand”, Dick patched into Jason’s com line.

Jason growled under his breath, “Thanks”.

“Shall we take this moron out together?”.

“Yes”, Jason muttered before switching his com off and inched closer to the goon.

The second Nightwing flew down from the roof beams, Jason jumped out of the floor grate and kicked out the back of the goons knees. He cursed loudly before Nightwing’s foot landed in his face.

Jason swore he saw a tooth fly out of his mouth along with a glob of blood. He aimed several hard punches to the side of the henchman’s head whilst Nightwing disabled his gun and radio with a graceful poise.

“All this for the girl? She’s nothing but a shell”, the goon smirked across at Jason before choking at the next punch.

“Joker’s hollowed her out...she’s nothing”, he spat out.

His temper flared and his hand subconsciously reached for his pistol. Dick realised and before anything could happen, he landed an electrical ecrisma blow to the goons head, knocking him out cold. His body crashed onto the floor with a loud thump.

“Jason-”.

“Don’t”, Jason cut him off, “I’m fine”.

He took several steps towards the office door and swallowed thickly. You. You’d be in there. You’d told Joker with the last ounce of confidence left that he’d come for you. He’d never leave you. You were right. Jason would never have stopped looking. Ever.

His hand rested on the door handle, trembling only slightly. What if he was too late. What if this was just another trick?

Drawing his hand back almost as though the door had burnt him. He frowned. He couldn’t think like this. No. He had to be strong. Just like you had been in all those videos. You’d been fierce. Your spirit still pouring through to him.

Jason glared angrily at the door and took a step back before kicking it open furiously with his combat boot. The door flew open wildly and as the dust settled. He saw Joker stood in the middle of the room, a sick, satisfied smirk sat proudly on his demented face.

~~~

“Jason my boy! It’s a pleasure to see you again”, his chuckle was deep and sinister, “I see you're still hiding your face though...is that because of what I did?”. The Joker’s eyes danced with delirious joy at the memories.

“I’d have thought you’d have embraced all your scars by now Jason...”, The Joker edged forward leaving you tied up behind him.

Jason rounded The Joker, clicking a button to the side of his mask, revealing his face, his eyes hidden with the domino mask, “I’ve got nothing to hide from you, clown”.

Jason let his eyes run over you for a second. You were bruised and bloodied. Clothes torn and tattered from mistreatment. Your eyes. God. Your beautiful E/C eyes. Red raw from countless tears. Somehow you still managed to give him a smile from behind The Joker. His heart fluttered. God he’d missed your smile.

Tearing his eyes from you he looked back towards The Joker and held his pistols out at him, finger hovering over the trigger. Jason felt the burn mark on his cheek stinging all over again. Pain ever present.

“You don’t have the guts”, The Joker laughed again and walked forward pressing his forehead into the barrel of the gun.

“You wouldn’t dare pull that trigger. I’m your Ace card Jason. You can’t kill me. You want to but you can’t...something will always stop you”.

Jason felt his hand shaking slightly. Everything was throbbing in his mind.

“Even after everything I’ve done to your girl, you still can’t pull that trigger”, The Joker taunted further and grinned sadistically.

“If only you knew where I’d touched...what I’ve done...”, he pushed further into the cold metal of the gun and winked at Jason, “Go on, do it, I dare you...if you don’t- I’m just going to keep coming back and who knows what I’ll do to our little princess next-”.

BANG.

A gun shot blasted through the air. Smoke drifted slowly from the barrel, dancing into the darkness around them.

“JASON!”.

Nightwing had thrown one of his ecrisma sticks to Jason’s gun, knocking it off target. The bullet shattered the brickwork behind them, dust erupting.

Crashing down through one of the broken windows on top of the office roof, Nightwing flew towards The Joker tackling him down onto the damp, concrete floor before he could launch himself at Jason.

Still startled, Jason watched Dick wrestling with The Joker on the floor, punches flying back and forth.

Dick turned to Jason, “Y/N-Jason!! Go get Y/N!! I’ll handle this!”.

The Joker was shrieking with laughter underneath Dick, blood pouring down his lip and from his nose.

“Ahhhh another boy blunder!! I must be lucky!! Two for the price of one!”.

Dick threw another punch and reached for the second ecrisma stick on his back, “I can’t wait to cart you back to the Asylum. I hope you’re looking forward to your 5 star stay in a windowless cesspit!”.

Jason could hear Joker continually laughing at Dick, until the sharp sound of electrical buzzing cut him off with a loud scream.

He almost fell over his own feet as he raced towards you. Jason quickly untied your hands and the second they were free you flung them around his neck, sobbing into his neck. Your tears dropping onto his brown leather jacket.

“Oh baby”, Jason stroked your hair and held you tightly to him. He was worried he was crushing you but you seemed to be squeezing him back just as hard.

You didn’t stop sobbing. The overwhelming emotion of being wrapped in his safe, strong arms make your knees buckle. Jason caught you with ease and lifted you up, “It’s ok baby, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you”.

Jason was one step away from breaking down himself but he needed to be strong for you right now.

You pressed your skin against his, the scratch of his stubble a welcome sting against your cheek. His scent overwhelmed you. Leather. Gunpowder. Smoke. And something distinct you’d never been able to place.

“Jason”.

“Shhh, it’s ok - nothing is going to hurt you, I’m here now - I’m a bit late but I’m here”.

~~~

It had been one week since you’d been back home. Two weeks if you counted the first week you and Jason spent holed up in the manor. Bruce had insisted. You sat in the bathtub, knees pressed up against your bare chest. Silence. All you could hear was the faint crackle of the bubbles every now and again. The clinical white tiles of the bathroom made you feel a little cleaner.

However,  no matter how many baths you took, showers you stood in, you still couldn’t wipe the feel of the slick purple gloves off your skin. Your skin. Skin that was now marred with yellowish bruising. Almost faded physically but not mentally. Looking over the marks you felt yourself transported back into the desolate warehouse. The dank smell of stagnant water filling your nostrils. You choked and coughed loudly, suddenly feeling the oxygen clam up your throat. Drowning in the memories.

“Y/N??”.

Within a mere second Jason had flung open the bathroom door, red tinting his cheek and a little sweat on his forehead, “Sweetheart are you ok?”.

You noted how he chose to call you sweetheart now and not his usual princess. A stark reminder that this whole ordeal had affected him too, more than he’d admitted. You felt the guilt eat away at you. Shame burning at your feet.

“Y-yeah, I’m ok”, you mumbled quietly and swirled some of the water and bubbles around you, “I just accidentally swallowed some of the bath water, I’m sorry”.

Jason nodded although not quite believing you. He closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the tub taking a deep breath, “It’s ok to not be ok sweetheart...I know it can be difficult to admit that...I know that more than most”, he wiped a stray bubble from the rim of the tub. He looked at you deeply before continuing, “I’ll be here for you...whenever and whatever you need”.

You sat silently in the water and he moved to get up. Maybe he thought it was best to leave you alone, let you uncover your own emotions. Process what had happened. You gripped his wrist and looked up into the crystal blue of his eyes, “Jason”.

“Yeah babe?”, he turned his wrist in your hand and linked his fingers with yours.

“I love you”.

He smiled and squeezed your hand before whispering back, “I love you too, more than you know”.

He looked over you and moved to sit back on the edge of the bath. His spare hand reached out and cupped your chin lovingly, stroking over your skin.

“We’ll work through this together Y/N, I promise”, Jason murmured and leaned forward kissing your forehead lightly, “I’ll do whatever you need me to do...anything at all”.

The words, the touches, the kiss. It made your heart flutter and you fell even more in love with him. Jason made the impossible possible and you had no idea how he managed it every day. You felt so lucky.

“I - I struggle some d-days”, you admitted and with those words you felt a little lighter, “sometimes all I want is for you to hold me and not let me go...Sometimes I-I f-feel like that for hours...”.

“Well then I’ll hold you for hours”, he said simply.

You scoffed lightly but before you could protest or think of arguing back he was stepping into the bath water fully clothed.

“Jay!! You’re going to flood the bathroom”, you gasped loudly, watching the water splash over the sides like dramatic tidal waves. Water dispersed all over the bathroom floor to make way for his broad frame, “What are you doing?!”.

Jason sunk down into the water behind you and wrapped his arms either side, pulling you back into his clothed chest. He rested his head on your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss there, “Holding you for as long as you need me to”.

You felt yourself melt into his warm embrace. Tears made their way down your cheeks at his endearing show of love, “Jason”.

“Shhh, just let me hold you baby”, he cuddled you tighter into him, his fingers stroking your hips under the water, brushing away the bruises. Marking you with his own special touch.

Relaxing under his soft caresses, you hummed lightly and closed your eyes resting your head back against him. He smelt like leather and spice. You felt at home. He was home.

“Jay”.

“Mmm?”.

“Please call me princess”, you whispered quietly into the air, your eyes still closed.

“Whatever you want...princess”.

~~~

Special Thanks: @offendedfishnoises​​ @internalsealpanic​​ @batarella​​ - thank you both for proof reading this and all the help you have given me - mwah mwah. xoxo

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~~~

[xseaxwitchxkpop]

NSFW Alphabet: Sub!Seonghwa Edition

A/N: idk anyone in Ateez who pushes the catboy agenda more than hwa and this precious soul just makes me have cute aggression. Lemme just remind everyone that stage presence ≠ bedroom preference, so he might be a demon on stage but I personally think he's very far from dominant in the bedroom. Also this is framed for a femme!presenting reader.

-------------------------

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

A very clingy baby! Even though he's the sub, he would want to hold you instead of the other way around; when you're cleaning up, give him a plushie to snuggle because he just feels very happy holding something. He would also have the most sparkly eyes ever, looking at you with pure love and adoration. He'll also be very hungry, so always have some food on hand and be prepared to be fed by him because "you need it, too, I don't care if you're my domme, lemme feed you and show you my love!"

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's fave part on himself is probably his eyes because he knows how expressive they are for him and how transparent they are -- his eyes always betray his true emotions and considering he's a more private person, he likes this. His fave part on you would be your breasts, but not in a sexual way; whether you're part of the itty bitty titty committee or big titty gang, he likes them as a comfort thing, groping them or sucking on your nipples, it's very calming and relaxing for him!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves his face to be covered in either pussy juices/"cum" (since, ya know, pussies don't ejaculate lmao anyway) or use fake cum (or real cum if you have an actual dick) to cover his face and/or inner thighs, it'll get him going like nothing else. He also loves seeing his midsection painted with his own cum and also eating his own cum.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Every once in a while, he likes to fuck his plushies. No one would suspect this because he takes much care in cleaning them immediately afterward, so they keep their softness and hugability. He's recorded himself doing it a few times but always either deletes the videos or keeps them in a separate, unsuspecting folder in his phone; he's thought about sending them to you but never could bring himself to do so.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's had a few hook ups but most of them have been pretty vanilla as many hook ups tend to be, he knows what he's doing especially with that tongue of his.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Probably missionary, with you on your back and him fucking you. He can easily kiss you, suck on your neck or nipples, and you can easily grab his hair roughly, pull him in closer, scratch his back with your nails, and you two can make intense eye contact. Yeah, that's his favorite position.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He's more passionate about it than anything. He likes it rough but not necessarily fast, and he likes it soft but not necessarily gentle. It's a very delicate balance that he prefers most of the time and can be difficult to pin down when the mood has to be forced from either of you -- when that happens, he rather not have sex at all.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Trimmed, doesn't bother to shave and he doesn't care what you do; bush, no bush, trimmed, shaved, waxed, whatever. However, he likes it when you shave for him down there as a sweet bonding experience, nothing kinky or sexual.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He's very sincere and very intense during sex, especially with someone he's romantically involved with because he's not the most open person and, like Yeosang, takes some prying open emotionally so when he shares that emotional part of himself and trusts that other person, that translates directly to the bedroom. He can be a little goofy if he's particularly happy that day, like giggly kisses n' shit, but otherwise very sincere, very intense.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

If he jacks off, you know about it because he sends you audios of himself getting himself off, complete with moans, whimpers, groans, muffling himself, and him cumming in the end of it. He never sends videos, though, because his ass has a voice kink. He masturbates semi regularly just because he has a high sex drive and you're not always available so he temporarily satisfies himself.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

So, this man, has some kinks that get me thinking. He has an oral fixation for sure, so anything involving his tongue; he definitely has a breeding kink like hard-core "let me breed you, mommy/daddy, I wanna give you babies" breeding kink, more so than San; temperature play; pegging/anal play; cock rings; nail scratching; biting/marking; kitten play; shibari; restraints; voice kink; ASMR kink.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Hmmmm, maybe the bedroom? He doesn't really have a favorite place to do anything because each place brings a different kind of thrill for him, so anywhere he can look at and easily imagine you commanding him to take you or you taking him is his favorite place. His least favorite place is the shower because the water washes away the lube and is just generally an annoying interruption.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Doing a sexy, feminine dance for you. Sexy girl group concepts? He learns the choreo and dances it just for you; turns him on because he enjoys you intently watching him while being just out of reach. Rubbing your hand up and down his thigh, no matter how innocent, will also turn him on greatly. Also if you cook for him -- it can be as simple as ramen but as soon as he sees that you cooked for him, he's ready to pounce you and be at your every command.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don't think he would be into piss play or scat play (absolutely no hate to people who are into this lol) but I think he wouldn't like them just because he's a bit of a clean freak and all he would see is a mess to clean up and that would definitely ruin the mood for him. Another definite turn off of his is extreme pain; he likes a little bit here and there, like slapping his ass and thighs, nail scratches wherever you scratch him, but flogging and riding crops are a no go for him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He LIVES for giving oral and that's directly from his oral fixation. It keeps his mouth busy plus he gets to please his partner. Again, he also loves his face covered in cum and/or pussy juices, so oral is definitely such fun for him!

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Moderate. He likes it a little faster than slower, but not exactly fast, if you get what I'm saying. He likes to feel you and you to feel him, so he wants it on the slower side of things but a slightly fast pace will be suitable for the most part. Only every once in a blue moon would he want you to fuck his brains out or to fuck yours out.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickies involving penetration? Nah, not a fan. Quickies involving oral? Sign him the fuck up. He wants to see how fast he can get you to orgasm with just his tongue and since you derive such pleasure from it as well, you let him take on this challenge.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

As long as extreme pain is not involved, he's game for a lot of things. He's always wanted to try semi public sex, voyeurism, and submissive cuckolding, but he would only try this with one of his members since he trusts them quite a lot.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

I think he could probably go two, three rounds, maybe four if he has a crapton of energy for God only knows what reason. He has experience, jacks off sort of regularly, so he can last a good while in bed while being pounded into or pounding into you.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He's got dildos of varying sizes because he, like San, is also a size queen. He has a couple of buttons plugs and some vibrators, along with handcuffs and bondage rope. He has a couple pairs of kitten ears and a matching choker and butt plug.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease, but not in a bratty way. It's a very sweet way, like poking your cheek and rubbing it like a cat as he strokes your inner thigh and ghosts your genitals, teases you with food like "hey if I make this dish, maybe you can fuck my ass tonight" and he'd act all cutesy about it, he'll make suggestive comments while making direct eye contact, and wiggle his butt sometimes.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He's a happy medium between San and Yeosang. Hwa makes noise - groans, whimpers, moans, mewling - but he isn't loud with them per say, they're very throaty noises and he uses his chest to make them so they're low in volume but frequent.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He quite prefers the natural noises of sex between you two rather than having a playlist or any other background noise going. He's sensitive to noise in the first place and the background noise could overwhelm him in a bad way.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's average. Nothing too long, nothing too girthy, but boy does he know how to use his average dick regardless.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a bit of a high sex drive. Think like smack in the middle of average horny and extremely horny and that's Hwa. He can go like three days without sex with no complaints but coming up on a fourth day may be a little bit hard for him.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He becomes quite sleepy afterward, wanting to snuggle you to fall asleep while you rub his back up and down and he holds you and squeezes you like his personal plushie. It takes a while for him to actually fall asleep, but that's because it takes him a while to calm down enough to lull into a peaceful state of rest before succumbing to sleep.

[high-functioning-lokipath]

All About Eavesdropping - Loki x Reader - Words: 1,835

“You want us to what?” You yelled. 

“I need you and Elsa here to go to Greenland for about a month,” Tony said. You stared at him from across his worktable in his lab. 

“Why in Valhalla would we need to do that, Stark?” Loki retorted. “And don’t call me Elsa.” Tony had called the two of you in there right after breakfast saying that he had a very important job for you. This, however, did not seem to be all that special.

“For purely scientific purposes, of course,” He replied, mouthful of blueberries.

“And those would be?” You sighed, facedesking. 

“The new winter stealth suits I designed. I need them tested in the field. I’ve run as many lab tests as possible but,” Tony shrugged. “Field tests are absolutely necessary. Everything you’ll need is either in these boxes or in the house in Greenland. If you want to take any other personal stuff you’ll want to grab it before you leave.”

“And you think we’re the best for the job?” You asked.

“He’s already a popsicle so if it gets too cold he can deal with it and you can heal yourself or him anyway,” Tony said like it was the most logical thing in the world. Loki tensed at his words but didn’t say anything about it.

“Fine,” Loki grunted. He grabbed the box Tony had marked for him and headed for the doors. 

“You leave at 6! Don’t be late!” 

“I wouldn’t dare disappoint you, Stark,” Loki sassed before finally stalking out. 

“Have fun!” Tony grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“First of all, perv. Second of all, ain’t gonna happen!” You replied. “Why are you doing this? This whole thing is a direct attack on a part of him he doesn’t like to address!” 

“Well I figured he has to grow up one day and deal with it. We all have inner demons to fight. I figured I’d help him.”

“A bit not good there, Sherlock.” Tony snorted in laughter and shook his head. 

“Would you rather I send him with Steve?” Your eyes widened comically.

“Nope!” You exclaimed, popping the p. “I think we’ll do just fine.” You grabbed your box and headed out as well.   

By 6 o'clock, the two of you were flying out on one of Tony's jets. "So, what do you think of the new suits?" You asked Loki, trying to make some conversation.

"They are no match for true Asgardian leather and would be greatly improved by at least a cape," He replied sounding rather bored. 

"Oh," You said. "How exactly are we to be testing the suits again? I forget what Tony said."

"He said nothing, darling. It was all in his infernal little packet." You blushed lightly at the pet name and nodded. 

"Alright, well, I guess I'm just going to," You paused, unsure of what to do. It was obvious Loki was not interested in conversation but there wasn't much to do on the jet. "I'm just going to sit over there," You said, getting up quickly and moving to the other side of the jet. The rest of the flight was quiet, Loki only speaking up to alert you that you were about to land. 

"Surely the man of iron could not possibly want us to stay here," Loki said, getting out and seeing the small house.

"Maybe it's bigger on the inside," You said hopefully. Gathering your few things, you both headed in. "Oh this is so much worse," You groaned. The large main room consisted of the dining and living rooms and the kitchen. However, it was very sparsely decorated. You could see a stack of groceries in the kitchen along with a note. Loki wandered off to explore the bathroom and bedrooms, you assumed, while you read the note. 

"Find anything of interest?" Loki called out, surprising you.

"Just that Tony said if we didn't like the food or somehow ran out there's a grocery store about 10 miles away."

"And just how does he expect us to go there?" Loki yelled, getting increasingly frustrated. 

"The note says our transportation is out back." You walked down the small hallway to the back door and looked outside. Stifling a laugh you called out, "Hey, Loki! I think your ex is here!"

"My who?" Loki replied, very confused. "I have no 'exes', as you call them, on Midgard." You smirked and moved aside so Loki could look. When he saw what was in the backyard, a strange look crossed over his face. "Run," He said in a dangerously calm voice. 

"I beg your pardon?" You replied.

"Run if you don't want to lose your phone," He smirked back. You laughed but you did take off running. He chased you back out to the main room but you ran out the front door. "Don't think you can escape me!" He called out. 

"Wanna bet?" You called back, running to the backyard. You quickly jumped on one of the two horses you had seen and took off. 

"Oh, you'll regret saying that, my dear," Loki grinned, getting on the other horse and taking off after you. 

The next few days continued in a similar pattern. There wasn't much to do so you and Loki would often spend your time exploring the woods behind the house or riding the horses or just talking. Loki had warmed up to you quite a bit, pun intended, and you were quite happy. Of course, you recorded the events of each day in your diary. Well, it was less of a diary and more of a collection of special moments you wanted to remember and sketches you'd made. You had just finished writing today's events when you heard a loud clatter and Loki call you from the kitchen.

"Y/N!" He said. "Can you come here please?" You quickly put your notebook in the nightstand drawer and hurried out to the kitchen.

"What in the world happened, Loki?" You exclaimed, holding back a laugh. Loki was laying on the floor, covered in a mixture of flour and eggs it seemed, with various cups and bowls around him. 

"I was attempting to reach a mixing bowl on the top shelf when I slipped on an egg and pulled the shelf down," He admitted.

"You're telling the truth!" You gasped, openly chuckling at the situation now.

"Of course, love! I couldn't lie to you." You blushed brightly, as he often made you do with those pet names. 

"Uh, well," You stuttered. "Why don't you go wash up and I'll finish," You paused, glancing around. "Whatever you were making."

"I was attempting to make breakfast," He grinned. "But I think I should make myself clean instead, hm?" 

"Yes, you should," You smirked. "Wouldn't want anyone thinking you were greying early."

"You-" He exclaimed, standing quickly. For a moment you thought he was truly angry, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. He reached onto the counter and threw a handful of flour at you before running off to the bathroom. You laughed, dusted yourself off, and got to work on breakfast.

About an hour later, he came back out and sat across you at the counter. "Your breakfast, my prince," You smiled, presenting him his plate. He smiled and you ate in silence for a time. 

"I've been reading a lot lately," He commented. 

"Mhm," You replied, mouthful of syrupy pancakes. 

"The last book I read had some rather interesting sketches in it too."

"Really?" You asked, truly interested. "I love art. Can you show it to me?" You took a large gulp of milk as he replied.

"My dear," He said, setting down his fork. "I read your diary." You coughed, almost choking on your ill-timed drink. 

"You what?" You screeched. "How dare you invade my privacy like that and-"

"Don't you care to know what I thought?" He interrupted.

"Why? So you can laugh at me, oh Mr. High-and-" He cut you off by leaning over the counter and kissing you earnestly. "Oh, that's nice," You said once you pulled away. 

"Just nice?" He smirked. "I guess I'll have to work on that." He kissed you once more before you pulled away, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

"I just remembered something!" You gasped. 

"What's wrong?" You quickly pulled out the pamphlet Tony had made you about the suit testing. You then gestured to a paragraph under a subheading of RECORDING ANY AND ALL TEST RESULTS

ALL TEST RESULTS MUST BE RECORDED BY THE TESTERS USING THE STEPS LISTED. TO ENSURE NOTHING IS MISSED, HOWEVER, THE HOUSE WILL ALSO BE UNDER 24/7 SURVEILLANCE TO TRACK ANY UNRECORDED RESULTS.

OUTSIDE - AUDIO/VIDEO

INSIDE - AUDIO ONLY

Loki grinned and leaned into you, lips brushing against your ear. He whispered something and you giggled. "Loki!" You gasped. "We can’t do that here!"

"Oh, yes," He purred. "We can do it anywhere we want if we're creative enough." 

"But outside is so much more exciting," You grinned. "So," you paused, struggling to find the right word. "Freeing!"

"Please do not do anything outdoors where I can see!" You heard a loud voice yell. You both quickly realized it was coming from the monitoring system.

"Steve? Is that you?" You called back with a chuckle. 

"Yeah, Tony insisted I take a turn on guard duty," He grumbled. "Look, I'm sorry I interrupted," He paused awkwardly. "Whatever you were doing but could you please not do it outside? Outside has cameras." Loki laughed loudly and you did too. 

"We really didn't mean to prank you, Cap. I thought Tony was on the other end of that mic."

"I however have no objections to how this turned out," Loki added. You whacked him arm lightly and shook your head. "Truthfully, though, we were only speaking of testing another aspect of the suit. I whispered to Y/N my idea and-"

"I get it," Cap replied quickly. You couldn't see him but you could tell he was embarrassed. "I'll make you two a deal. Behave yourselves, finish the tests, and get home early and I'll help you prank Tony here in the tower. Ok?"

"You have yourself a deal, Captain," Loki grinned. 

"Alright. I'm going to take a nap now. Don't do anything stupid."

"Oh we won't," Loki smirked, wrapping his arms around you and planting light kisses on your neck.

"Loki!" You squealed.

"Do you want to prank Tony or not?" Steve yelled. "I can't see you but I can hear you! And that didn't sound like suit testing. Get to work! If you do as you're supposed to, you'll be done in a week."

"Yes, sir," You both grumbled. Loki, ever the mischief maker, wasn't about to let up. He grabbed a towel and twirled it, smacking your backside with it as you walked away. 

"What was that for?" You asked.

"Loki, did you just-"

"For purely scientific purposes, I assure you," He replied. Steve groaned in frustration.

"This is gonna be a long week."

Loki Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@serpentargo

@khena

@nyx2021

@kaz11283

@weasley-main-lover

@up-to-mischief

@lokislittlesigyn

​Marvel (all characters) Taglist

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@whatafuckingdumbass

@ladylulu143

@lokislittlesigyn

[hinabes]

Soft Serve Cone’s Backstory

A story about promises.

I.World Demolition

It was the best of times-- Humans had bested the elves and created a new world where they ruled.

It was the worst of times-- Fallen angels, bad guys born from the curses of elves, kept invading human settlements.

“--And you food souls,” With an air of self-satisfaction, Westminster went on and on, talking about things I didn’t really understand while he struck a match.

“See, you guys are like the flame. While we humans are the friction on the match, in the end, you guys are the lit fuse.”

He turned to face me, the prancing, flickering flame in his hand putting a crafty smile on his face, eyes brightly lit.

“Little Cone, are you afraid?” “What’s there to be afraid of! Go on! Toss it in to see what happens!”

I didn’t want to listen to his boring and cryptic philosophies and pestered him to toss the match in the fuse notch of the experiment.

“Hahaha, you’re so like me!”

He let go. The burning match fell into the notch and the fuse instantly lit, its flame racing into the inner workings of the experiment. Sparks flew, and Westminster grabbed my hand, pulling me to duck away.

A huge explosion resounded, followed by Westminster’s excited chatter.

“--And so, let’s blow this world up.”

Alas, moments later.

“Ah… Another failure!”

I picked through the debris of the experiment for the thing we were refining for, to no avail.

“Don’t get too down, failure is but another step to success.” Westminster comforted me.

“This… Alright, how are you able to convince me every time?” “Because I’m a genius, best scientist in the world.”

“Say that all you want… You’re just a student… Crap! Let’s run, someone triggered the ice trap I put by the entrance! It must be the warehouse guard!” “What? Isn’t today the open house? Shouldn’t that guy be having a blast at the idol performance?”

Westminster was shoved forward by me, his shock not impeding his complaints.

“Who knows, let’s get out first!”

“Party pooper… I’ve already come up with the next experiment too… Coney, I’ll definitely become a professor here in the future and build my very own lab here! Nobody will disturb me then!”

“Alright alright, you’ll definitely get it! As long as you don’t get caught sneaking into a warehouse and kicked out of school today!”

I collected the moisture in the air to form a snowflake, making our escape on it through the skylight as always. The sparrows sleeping on a cedar tree outside were startled awake and jostled about with chirps and screeches, followed by the angered complaints of the tardy security guard.

Westminster and I shared a smile. --This was the most interesting experience I had at the magic academy.

II. Life Creation

To me, I was quite lucky. Because the first person to summon me was an interesting guy.

He was Westminster, and he often proclaimed himself the “number one science prodigy” to me. Though in reality, this was just something he said.

In the Academy, Westminster wasn’t on particularly good terms with the other students. He said that prodigies have always been alone since time immemorial as nobody understood them, so he didn’t bother with the common folk.

That was why, even though it was the celebrated open house when all the students were having fun with their families, friends and other visitors, I was the only one by his side.

“Hey, Westminster, since we can’t continue the experiments, where should we go?” “Where do you want to go?” “Hmm… We could take a look at the fallen angel weapons display? Or the master attendant appliances display?” “Those are all plagiarized off my work, what’s there to see?” “Then… the puppet show?” “That time would be better spent researching how to make puppets move by themselves.” “...Then what do you want?” “It’s getting late, let’s go back to the dorms.” “...Hey! Westminster!” “What?”

I turned around somewhat angrily to see him innocently grinning at me. We were flying above the school, wind whooshing past our faces.

“It’s my birthday!” “What did you say, the wind’s too loud!”

He played dumb, and I got ready to shake the snowflake under us--

“Hey hey hey, alright alright, I heard it!” He laughed out loud. “I remember! How could I forget your birthday? I’m going back to the dorms to get the tent and warm clothes I prepared--”

Like a conductor, he pointed elegantly towards the snowy peaks looming over the academy grounds.

“Then we’ll go there, how about it? We’ll get to see lots of stars.” “Woah! Let’s go!”

This was why I was happy to be with him; he made every new day unlike any that came before.

My birthday’s easy to remember, it’s the annual Academy open house.

It’s been so many years.

Back then, Westminster wasn’t so arrogant as to go against the proceedings. He, like the other students, was assigned a task-- To create something new that will be on display in the exhibition, that will be promoted and advertised to visitors from around the world.

Teachers and students alike were worried over what sort of “hazard” Westminster would create, but he went against his usual antics.

He didn’t create anything like the music box that could wake a dormant fallen angel, nor the perfume that could revert a food soul into an uncontrollable younger form.

Using cream made from a base of water from the Lake of Ice Tears, he created ice cream that wouldn’t melt. He then baked a thin omelet till it was hard and crispy, which he placed the ice cream into-- --That’s right, that’s the food I’m based on: the soft serve cone.

The day of the open house, the soft serve cone that was very convenient and didn’t create waste was well received and praised by the guests. Westminster managed to sell cart after cart of it.

Unable to keep up with its popularity with the visitors, Westminster received a permit from the Academy for large-scale extraction of water from the Lake of Ice Tears. He then extracted and collected the inedible magic crystal components of the water in secret.

The last day of the open house, Westminster somehow sneaked into the vault of the old enchantment furnace behind the main hall, and using ice cream infused with magic crystal energies, he summoned me.

“Hey, Little Cone. I��m Westminster. Welcome to the world of Tierra.”

He stood before me, face covered with machine oil, yet his eyes shone bright.

III. Remember the Stars

Atop the snowy peaks.

I sat in the tent with Westminster, stars circling the sky above us, and I saw in them his eyes when we first met. I never could find an apt comparison, but it suddenly came to me that night, under the stars.

“Are these stars your birthday gift to me?” “Stars are the universe’s reply to stargazers. And you, are the universe’s reply to me.”

I blushed.

“Sounds nice and all, but if you can’t take it, you can’t keep it.”

Westminster opened his eyes and reached out his right hand, grabbing nothing but air.

“We’ll come more in the future, you’ll remember them after looking at them more.” “There are so many stars, there’s no way I can remember them all.” “How will you know if you don’t try?”

Some things are only proven to be impossible when you try.

“Westminster, are we going to the mountains tonight?” “Not tonight, there’s an assignment I have to do.”

“Westminster, can we go stargazing? Even the school observatory is fine.” “Sorry, I have to record experiment data tonight… I might have to stay in the warehouse late into the night.”

… Slowly, I understood-- Change is the law of the universe, people and stars both change, new interests, new goals, new lights at the end of the tunnel. Nothing stayed the same forever.

Not excluding Westminster and me.

Not long after the trip to the snowy peaks, one day, Westminster and I sneaked into the warehouse through the skylight again. This was our secret base; besides having to avoid the security guard and covering up our traces as those of stray cats and birds, many successful experiments went on here.

But this time, we had an unexpected encounter. He seemed to be a teacher or a higher member of the Academy staff.

“Crap, what if he’s forced to drop out…”

As Westminster was taken away, I had uneasy thoughts. If Westminster had to quit, would I have to as well? Would the outside world be more interesting than here?

But I was wrong. After a long chat with the person, Westminster returned with the happiest expression he’s ever had.

“Haha, didn’t I tell you, I’m a genius!” He showed me the key in his hand. “Coney, I’ve got my own lab from now on!”

Seeing him so ecstatic, I felt oddly worried.

IV. Promise of Reunion

From then on, it was as if Westminster became a different person. He was very, very busy, often falling asleep in the warehouse, going days and nights without food or water, mumbling to himself in front of various strange devices and data.

“Empty shell, empty shell.” Often did I find him chanting to himself repeatedly.

Westminster told me that the mysterious man offered him limitless riches and power for him to research the creation of food souls and life itself. And empty shells were what he couldn’t wrap his head around.

Westminster always said that empty shells were food souls with practically no soul power, and their existence proved that food souls were more than soul-powered weapons created by humans, that food souls were preexisting beings. Then, what power does the human’s imagination hold that is able to summon us unknown life-forms? As he got more and more engrossed in the topic, he said that behind all of this hid the secrets and origins of the world and soul power.

In the beginning, I was still able to understand what he was talking about. Later on, the lab’s security got tighter and tighter. Finally, one day, as I was flying in through the skylight, I was blocked by a strange, invisible barrier.

That day, only when it turned to night did Westminster trudge out of the warehouse, exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot, his unshaven face making him seem decades older. It was as if the warehouse was a man-eating demon, having consumed all of his life force. He faced me, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“Sorry, Coney, my experiments are dangerous, so I can’t let you into the lab from now on.” “I wasn’t coming to disturb you, I just…”

I lowered my head, doing my best to hold in the sadness-- I just wanted to tell you, it was the day of the open house. Have you forgotten my birthday too?

I didn’t want to cry. I’ve never cried. The ice from the Lake of Ice Tears will never melt, and having inherited its properties, how could I ever cry?

“Coney…”

Suddenly, my hand was grasped.

“Come with me.”

I followed Westminster dazedly. We didn’t follow the usual path, instead, he brought me into the majestic main hall and after making a few turns, we somehow came to a secret passageway.

“In here, we won’t be found by anyone. Shh, don’t tell anyone either.”

He brought me into the warehouse.

It was completely different from when I was created; filled with strange, rotating devices, it had become a real lab.

Still holding my hand, Westminster led me into the depths of the lab and handed me something that looked like a telescope.

“Look.” “At what? The kaleidoscope?” “Even better”

Withholding my disbelief, I looked into the telescope. --To see a skyline out of this world, with the brightest stars I’ve seen.

It was the same sky we saw that night on the snowy peaks, stars in neverending rotation; there were two particularly eye-catching ones, swimming in irregular orbits.

“Happy birthday.”

I heard Westminster’s voice. Averting my sight, I saw his forced smile, an uneasy premonition settling over me.

“See those two stars?”

Westminster patted my head, the coarseness of his hand unfitting of a young man.

“I might have to leave this place.” “Remember, when those two stars come together… I’ll be back.”

V. Soft Serve Cone

Nevras is home to the best academy of all of Tierra, the Academy of Magic.

It is the genius’ cradle, one of whom being Soft Serve Cone’s master attendant.

He was the youngest professor in the academy and had his own laboratory, and with the support of a mysterious investor, he researched food souls in utmost secrecy.

Due to the high security of the research, for a long time, Soft Serve Cone was separated from her master attendant and was unable to see him.

Later, for the next stage of his research, Westminster left the academy for a long-term study, declining Soft Serve Cone’s request to go with him.

And so, Soft Serve Cone stayed behind at the academy, and entrusted by Westminster and his investor, she lived fruitfully and was allowed to take part in the various classes the academy offered.

Like a human student, she studied everything she found interesting.

Time flew by, until that year, that open house.

A bored Soft Serve Cone picked up the kaleidoscope on a whim, to see the two stars suddenly come together. Her heart beat fast as she dashed to the warehouse-turned-secret-lab.

Passing through the secret passageway, opening the door, she saw the absent professor.

“Is that… you?”

Soft Serve Cone hesitated. The figure of the person before her had changed far too much.

“Long time no see, Little Cone. Now… will you create a new world with me?”

TL Notes

EVERY SINGLE TIME! Every single backstory’s chapter 4 just gets me soft and kinda wanna cry! Every single time! How does funtoy keep doing this!

This one was kinda very a little bit self indulgent.......... stars.......... kaleidoscopes............. deep lore............. westminster............. the academy.............. cute gorl............ its got it all.....................

The significance of the kaleidoscope: 

Soft Serve Cone in Chinese is 冰淇淋花筒 (bing qi lin hua tong, lit. ice cream flower cone, where the last 2 characters mean “flower cone”). 

Kaleidoscope is 万花筒 (wan hua tong, lit. million flower cone), feelssoftman

“The figure of the person before her had changed far too much.” haha funney joaks hahah

lil coney here better not be lookin at this and thinking “omg westy is that u??????” unless he already looked like this as a human in which case WHAT THE FUCK

anyway. this entire story is a lot of feelssoftman. see ya im off to make a kaleidoscope and cry a little from the softness

also if u were wondering yes the original does swap between kaleidoscope and telescope like that one katy perry song

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Depths Below, Masquerade, Part 10

[Part 10, The Conclusion!, There has been blood and there will be death. ]

If you’re enjoying this, please!!! like and share!!! to your friends!!!! Help us to reach new faces,readers & writers!

[Can’t stress that enough! :P]

[We’ve been so blessed to have help from this fantastic community here, every single one of you have helped us in so many ways!  And feel free to send anonymous ASKS if you are curious about writing with us!  We absolutely welcome new faces!   Without further delay….]

“No!” she snapped, peering toward the collective group.  “Do NOT stop until I get what I am here for. . .”

She turned and suddenly; without warning, her hands coiled under his bloodied collar and she jerked him upward to look at him.  Her eyes began to swirl in a purple haze.

“What are you talking about?  How do you know me? Answer!” she said again, though much more loud and by shaking him several times.

“I speak of your history. . .I was. . .” he said being jerked back and forth. “I was the one in charge of your recovery after the fall of the Sunwell. I found you, coiled in the arms of your mother when the Scourge had broken through the gates of our city.  You were helplessly clinging to her. . . I snatched you up, she was still alive and begged me to take her.  But I knew I could not save you both. . .”

Vari slowly turned; by now she had calmed, but her eyes narrowed at the discovery.  Koltun already knew to step between her and the table lest she leap and body slam him through it.  The demons clawed hands were holding her back.  She was wide eyed, and as in shock as Siida.  This man, this. . .pathetic being, he was so closely tied to their history.  But how?

“I left her to die. . . used her as bait to lure them. . .to get away and save us both, stealing you away and hoping to better your life.  The recovery process was your memory wipe and barricade.  We wanted to block the memory of your past; and place you with a wealthy house to help educate and further your success. . . I had no idea you had a living heir. . . “

Dawnseeker struggled to stay upright, but slowly he would be lowered back to the table as Siida’s strength waned.

She was in shock now.  Her eyes were fully coated in the void she had tried so hard to keep buried down inside.  Her jaw was tight, teeth clenched together while she clung to his collar.  The words had entered her mind but she could almost not believe it.  It was him, all along.  He was the link between them all.

“Siida. . .” Marseille said softly as he tried to connect to her, his hands were still locked holding the spell. “Sennaris, enough. . .”

Both Verzatea and Sennaris had already begin to transfer their energies back to themselves when the spell around them started to drop.  As the group felt the veil that was surrounding them lift, Marseille too would be able to drop his hands from channeling. But it was too late.

Before he could step beside her, Siida had already lost her control.

Her eyes burst into a violet flame that had caused her flesh and hair to turn near pale white.  She coiled her fingers around the neck of the Magister and had climbed nearly on top of him.  The fury that had built up over the years of her life.  The abuse and neglect she suffered living in a house that knew she was nothing more than an orphan.  The pain of having to live alone.  Having to find her brother and sister; this family, only to have it almost ripped away.

She screamed, and a sudden burst of violet fire had sent the group hurdling backward from its recoil.  She was seething and dripping with dark magics that seemed to be burning holes in the table and floor the longer she held it.  Dawnseeker was all but lost to this, his head rolling backward and his body going limp.  Siida was enraged beyond control and belted out another banshee wail, much like her older sister.

The burning void energy began to peel bits of flesh from the Magister as he lay there helpless to defend himself.  Verzatea and Marseille were working hand in hand to protect the group, sheltering them with a shield of sorts which was more or less their only defense against this type of anger filled magic.

She continued to scream and shake, her body convulsing while she abused the helpless man with fury.  

“You took everything from me!”

“I should have died beside my mother but instead you took her from me!   You took my brother, and my safety. . . You took everything!”  the pain behind those words caused the eyes of the fel user to come to life.  Had he finally met his end?

Siida charged one final time and with as much force as she could muster, ignited her ability to its full potential and instantly vaporized the man.  He was burned from head to toe, and so heavily that the second wave had caused his insides to begin to boil.

She wailed harder and harder which she charged up the suppressed anger, and in a third and final pulse, shattered him from the inside out, and left him as a stain of particles and dust, scattered across the table.

She would have probably continue to assault the world in her fury, until a plated hand fell across her shoulder.  It dawned instantly on her who would be so bold as to brave the painful burning of her inner flames; and she turned.  

Vari was standing there, taking on whatever remained of her anger; her stern eyes and stoic expression suddenly eclipsed her mind and caused that wave of anger to instantly vanish.   She had lost.  Everything became terrifying in the wake of such a violent onslaught, and she dove into Vari’s chest and collapsed in tears.

The rest of them could hardly remain doing anything else but staring.   Watching the two sisters grieve not only on the loss of what they had fought so hard to find; but the procurement of knowledge they’d both hoped to sooner forget.  The entire time they’d know one another and neither had a more clear picture of the future than this simple greedy man, who now was a stain of dust.

Verzatea and Sennaris both held their heads high, while Zoei lowered her own gaze.  She still felt guilt over what had happened; the reveal of everything that had built up to this very moment causing her to hitch a breath in her chest.  She turned suddenly and peered out the large windows leading to the bay.  Fireworks still launched high into the air; the guards of Honeywell still insisting nobody return.  They had been successful yet again; but not without a cost.

The three powerful women rallied together and without another glance; would hurry to make a hasty exit from the blood drenched party room.  There was nothing left for any of them here.

Whistletorque had sauntered back over to his contraption, and without another word; the button on the left side would deactivate the still turning record player which skipped, the turret that spun and the band that moved.  It collapsed everything under the stage and folded itself down into a neat and convenient suitcase which was promptly gathered.

The two sisters shared a wordless embrace before quietly turning and making their way from their own stage.  Vari quick to gather the talisman of her fallen brother from the pile of ash that lay where Dawnseeker once was.  Koltun would follow in suit; the demon sending a clawed fist into the door frame as they passed; cracking it on contact.

Marseille would be the last and was quick to begin staging the scene to look as though there had been a murder.  His deft mind and hands working in unison. He would gather whatever evidence he found would be incriminating, and hurried to tidy up any sign they would have been there.  But it would be Sunwood who was plucked from the group before he could attempt to exit.

“Where are you going?”  he asked softly, his fingers still curled around his collar as he drug him back.

“W-what. . .what do you mean, I am leaving with the rest of you all. . .” the portly man suggested as he peered into the white burning eyes of the pale old elf.

His response to that was a resounding no, but silent, and in the form of his shaking head.

“No. . .I’m. . n-not going with you?” he mumbled as his body turned to face Marseille.

“No.”  he said this time. “You are going to remain here and play the part you needed for.  The part you were born to play.”

Sunwood suddenly felt his eyes widen, his body running cool and chilled yet a warmth spilled over his flesh and ran down his chest causing him to open his mouth wide to speak, though the words never came out.

Marseille was holding a broken piece of mirrored glass that had been shattered during the onslaught.  The old elf was painted crimson across his face and neck; bleeding down onto his chest where the fresh burn mark had scarred him.  His hand was bloody and lowering the weapon; it was conveniently vaporized in his palm as a charge of arcane energy swirled around it.

“You will live.  You will be the martyr that allows the masses to see the monster that has fled from this place, and must be stopped.”

Marseille slowly lowered the bleeding man from his standing position and placed him on the floor by the slaughtered remains of the other Magisters.

“You will never utter a single word for as long as you live; but your scars will be a reminder to the world that you were but a pawn in a game that was far too high over your head.”  the Shaldorei continued by cleaning up the dust piles and using his energy to finish them to the smallest of particles.

“Dawnseeker did this. . . and upon killing them, spared you for bringing him what it was he needed most.  And in time; Siida Ray Kash’ebahl will return a hero to Silvermoon City, when she resurfaces from the clutches of the madman behind the Honeywell Masquerade Massacre.  You. . . will continue to be our eyes and ears; for that is all you are good for anymore.  The agreement. . .stands as is.”

Marseille peered down at the wide eyed Magister. Everything that had happened up until this point; he knew he would not get out of this unscathed.  But life was worth living as long as his family was safe.  He would have no choice but to play along; he knew what these people were capable of.

“Magister Sunwood. . . it would please me greatly if this incident remained between us.  You have been most valuable to my Master despite his apparent demise.  Do not. . . forget that I am always watching.”  

And with that, the last member of the Order would make his way toward the exit of the bloodied pavilion.  His white hot eyes glazing over a softened pink hue as his body began to mellow and calm.

Soon the guests would return to their party and find a not so welcome affair had taken place.  Rumors would spread and the masses would gather; knights and the higher authority would be called into action.  And a manhunt to locate the rogue apostate mage Dawnseeker would commence.  But they would never find him; they would never locate his body.  All they would find were the bodies of his victims; the witness and hope that one poor Siida-Ray Kash’ebahl would not meet the same fate as her fellow party goers.  

As for The Nine, they would return to their hallowed bastion.  Lick their wounds and prepare for the ceremonious burial of their brother, their friend, of their lover and confidant.  Now was not the time to waste on sentiment, they would have to gather behind the support of one another and press on, otherwise it would be more than just one life lost in this tragic affair.....

To be completed:  “In Depths Below: Epilogue, Part 1″

@siidaraykashebahl

@whatadarkbitch

@zandalaridruidofgonk

@suncrest-legacy

@madame-miersae  (just so you dont miss it lol)

@pyravari-kashebahl

@thebladeitself

[whenisitnottimeforbed]

Unscheduled Change in Procedure

So I wrote this for @koreanrage but I didn’t know it wasn’t going to show up for anyone else, and I know it’s not what I usually write(I’ve only done Sleepy Hollow fics up to this point) but I’m a bit dry as far as that well is concerned and among other things, this incited my inner writer so, I present to you something I’ve been working on. Or at least a peace of it. A Clintasha domfic

"What? Why are you making that face?" Clint snorted a bit, yanking a shaft from a body. While the head of this, an incendiary bolt, was used up on the half charred remains of a 6'10" monster of a man, the reinforced, double folded titanium shaft was still quite usable. Rubbing the edge of it, where a bit of cooked flesh had seared to the alloy, he reached over his shoulder to load it into his mechanized quiver, watching his partner as she rolled her eyes at him.

"I thought we agreed no more ending the exchanges with explosives?" She lifted a dead man with her foot, rolling him to his side. Beneath him was her knife, damaged and seared from the blast and thereby rendered useless. Letting the corpse fall back over, Natasha dipped down to scoop up some concrete rubble and walked downhill on the precariously leaning floor to a wall with so big a piece removed a bus might be able to drive through unhindered. Were they not on the twelfth story. She turned and rested her elbows back on part of the hole that reached up to her waist watching the Hawk pick through the wreckage they had wrought together for his recyclables.

"I counted 15 knives and 45 bullets loosed." He smiled, pointing another scavenged shaft at her teasingly, "you were out of ammo."

"12, 13, 9, 2-"  Natasha nodded at the varying array of guns littering the floor under, beside, in the hands of, or strewn around the dozens of neutralized enemies, announcing the remaining magazines. “And you don’t ‘loose’ a bullet or a knife.” Clint knew there was no need to check for error.

"So, you were going to be able to grab those from where? What was the plan to get out of that pit- rocket up onto the ceiling?" He tipped his head toward a collapsed piece of floor where the blackened floor indicated the arrowhead had detonated near.

"You don't think I could have taken those eight guys? Really?"

"I think you were being a body-hog; when we're not with the team, I'm not a- we don't have to be 'heroes', just agents. Besides, I'm not allowed to use my toys just because you don't want to get new knives?" Clint had to cut her off, walking over to her and resting on his own elbows, looking out passed their concrete barrier over the dilapidated and abandoned looking buildings that extended for blocks and blocks in this direction.

"New knives are always better. What I don't enjoy is this red mist that hangs around.  I'm just- ugh-  coating my lungs and my suit- not to mention my hair." She smiled, scoffing, turning her head out into cold air and watching her exhales condense.

"Ha. How can you tell?"

"You can't smell it? Come on, Beethoven." She smiled, turning back to face him, where even with her unheightened sense of smell, she was more than close enough to whiff the scent of his physical exertion, the oil that lubricated his bow and bowstring, and every so often when the small breeze allowed it, his breath. He seemed to watch her for a moment before he tipped on one elbow leaning toward her, resting his nose in her lightly frazzled curls and inhaling, his eyes closing.

"Cherry-" he quietly announced, beyond ruby locks and into her ear, "Almond. Gunpowder. Iron..."

"-Blood." She corrected him, standing back up and pulling her head away from his, slowing as she took more steps away. It was a small feat mentally forcing her hand to keep from straying to her ear where, somehow, his breath still tickled her, "And viscera. If you have to use it, use it when we're in the open, or when you're solo."

"Hey, I'm down one sense, I'm not a dog- but, I  did get you a window." He chuckled rubbing the edge of the blasted wall-hole as though it were a fine piece of craftsmanship.

"Don't expect me to praise that," Nat gave him an eyebrow and a smile as she moved backwards, "Not after what you did to the stairs, Handyman." Taking a small hop, she leapt from the precipice that was the threshold to this room where steps would have been, and fell about a story down. Where there had once been glass that she might have landed on, there was now an opening and she straighted herself through the whole, to descend half a floor more to the leaning building that this one was now tipped against. The black leather clad woman crouched on impact and slid down the roof of this structure as it was forced at an even less stable angle, getting further and further away. Clint was right behind her, though instead of allowing the slide, he pushed off to drop through a hole not very far away in this roof. He fell inside, and watched her form drop outside a most still transparent pane of glass. It was officially a race.

Jumping off some of the crumbled roof rubble, Hawkeye used some of the exposed fire sprinkler piping and swung himself up over a partially blocked doorway, letting himself slide to the end of the tiled hall where there was a staircase with a few sets missing. He jumped with loud clangs from handrail to handrail down the hole at the center of the spiral. In response, he heard some glass break about a floor lower than him. Chancing it, he leapt from where he was to the floor and ducked out of a opening created by the tipped building's bricks no longer being able to line up in proper stacks. There she was waiting for him,

"Taking your sweet time?" she turned, walking toward the sounds of populace a few alleys down.

"Thought I'd enjoy the scenic route- why, you got somewhere to be?" He followed her.

"You know me- just that wonderful 'home sweet home'."

"Yes, and so big what with only the bed, fridge, chair, and closet taking up space."

"Minimalism."

"Right, yeah, of course, sure."

"Just open the jet."

They'd made quick and purposeful work of getting outside the small, mostly abandoned city, out where the forest began, which is where they'd parked the secretive Quinjet. Clint obliged, clicking the remote control that opened the hold so she could walk in. As she went, she clicked the appropriate switches to get the vehicle ready to be started up.

Once seated in their chairs, both began to click about, hitting buttons, raising bars, turning dials, and checking readouts silently in the specified order. With the turbines starting up, they'd have been up in the air in no time at all, were it wasn't for the sound of voices. Clint, of course, only noticed after he saw Natalie freeze, clearly concentrating on her auditory sense before leaning forward to peer back through the side of her window. He stood too when he heard the distinctive pop of a gun.

"What are they doing here?" Nat sat back down quickly, trying to finish up her half of the launch sequence, "How'd find us out?"

"Better question is why would they be chasing us? Didn't we just get rid of the biggest source of trouble they had? Can't we just be the heroes for once?" Behind them were not the uniforms, body armor, or automatic firearms of a rouge rebel crime faction, but plain clothes and improvised weapons of average citizens and townspeople.

"Wait, look-" she stopped him, and both of them noticed that there were two forms clearly ahead of the mob, one with short white hair, and the other with longer red. Small forms. Visually assessable at eight and five years of age probably, leading the flood of angry faces. Clint looked while both he and Natasha momentarily froze, at the larger form- the boy with the white hair, and two big, adrenaline fueled eyes looked back at him. He stared into them and he saw a look he had encountered before, but had felt unsettled by until he saw a child so young giving it to him. He could traits as if they were listed in writing on his head- anger, desperation. The terror of facing death.

"Let's go." Natasha brought him from his trance and he looked away for only a moment to help her try to get going, but glanced back for the boy and saw nothing. Instead, now he too could hear what she had listened to earlier.

"--Witch!"

"--Demons!"

"--Kill the mutants!"

"--They're a curse!"

"Wait! Wait!"

Both of them snapped around toward the voice at the Cargo hold- the boy had crawled up onto it, pushing the girl he was clinging to further in.

"Nuh-uh-" Natasha got up quickly to relieve them of their stowaways, the turbines raising in volume and speed. The boy could read her face and posture.

"T-Take my sister, please- just her! Up in the air with you! I'll catch up and take her back!" He pushed the little girl further in, a voice accented in the Russian of the land but with an otherwise spotless record in terms of grammar and vernacular. The female child sat stiff, nearly fetal, eyes so paniced and afraid they might have belonged to a rabbit in its final hour, the chase lost. She pinched her small fingers into her brother's jacket sleeve, her knuckles and nails still somehow paler than the rest of her.

"No-" Nat answered him curtly as she moved back to shoo them off and around the side while Clint began the takeoff sequence allowing for a slight foot-high hover, turning the hold door another direction. Once the kids were off, some time could be bought if they faced the crowd.

The young boy turned from this rock to look back to the hard place and caught sight of a barrel point toward him and his sister. In a flash that was quicker than Nat expected, as fast as the sound of the shot, he seemed to teleport to the girl, pushing her back further inside the jet. Natalie's eyes shot up to the aimed weapon immediately, but her peripheral vision and linked reflexes forced her to reach out and catch the red headed girl by the shirt before the girl fell back on her head. She wasn't quite quick enough to catch the brother before the bullet passed through his leg and lodged in the floor near the cockpit.

"Nat!" Clint shouted back. She'd pulled out a gun from the handy wall compartment, walked passed the groaning boy who cringed as she passed, and to the edge of the cargo door where she slammed her fist on the button to close it. Through the squishing window, she began opening fire on the crowd, turning them away while Clint tipped the jet up and away from the mob, forcing all passengers inside to stumble or slide toward the cockpit, and quickly took off. There was the distinct sound of bullets being blocked by the jet's fuselage for a few seconds before the maximum range of hand weapons was exceeded.

Moaning and whining, hissing through his teeth and trying hard not to cry outright, the boy's tears began pooling on the floor under his cheek or on the collar of his stained and well used baby blue, velvet jacket he was wrapped in. He clutched his thigh where it trickled blood steadily onto his jeans, and the girl at his side got to her knees, pulling her thin, once-white dress under her and tried to hold his head, stroking his hair with shaking hands covered almost completely by stretched, burgundy cardigan sleeves. She jolted though, when the short haired woman headed toward her and cowered behind the injured boy, holding his jacket over her face. For his part, the young boy quickly tried to sit himself up, extending an arm behind him flinching visibly with the effort and pain. Natasha stared at them in the white noise of the air rushing past the vehicle for a moment and the hum of the turbines and their engines, eyeing the quivering girl and the angry, tearstreaked boy, and strode away from them.

"Wait-" the boy called, surprised, "Will you take us, too?"

"No." Natasha answered him.

"But-"

"No-"

"Then-then, just my sister- she's only five-"

"No." She'd gone over to her captain's chair and returned with a small box. When she came down to her knee in front of the children, the girl who had peeked in the very slightest of fashions clung once again to her brother, burying her face in his back, and the boy pushed at her, trying to back up in a panic. He'd forgotten that he was using his leg for that, though, and wheezed through his teeth when the muscles returned with screams of pain. A hand shooting out immediately, Natasha snatched his calf and pulled it to try and look. He fought her.

"Stop! Let me go! Aurgh-!" She said nothing, but she was much stronger than him. He groaned, trying to pull his leg away and from behind him, the girl tried to reach forward and pull at him too.

"Don't- No!" he protested, clearly in pain, but steeped in anger, and she slapped away his hands. He tried to push or peel her fingers off, and she shoved him away again. It seemed in fact, that he was more upset than in pain now, but once she popped open the box, a clear death grip on his young calf, and pulled out a bottle, a tube and a roll, he stopped. He could see what the things were, and yet, after a moment he continued the struggle. She grabbed and ripped the leg of the pants, rolling the pieces back, poured the bottle onto some cloth and then pressed it to the sides of the wound. He jolted as though it hurt, and she gave him a look. He quickly tried once more to pull away,

"Leggo! What are you doing? Is it poison?! Are you trying to kill me too?!"

"I don't want you bleeding all over the hold. Be still." She ordered, snatching his leg close again.

"No! Get away from me! What are you doing?"

"You wanna get an infection, kid?" Clint called from the pilot's chair.

"She's pinching me! With her claws!"

"Claws?" He was laughing, but the boy had little time to notice, as the woman had leaned forward and grabbed his shirt, pulling him in,

"You're gonna be still, or I'm going to drop you from 32,000 feet, and superspeed isn't going to save you from a fall. Do you understand?" He could muster no response save for biting his lip in fury and growling back at her. She took that as submission, threw his shirt back at him, and began swabbing the area with the tube and another part of the fabric. Finally she began wrapping him up. Now that he was silenced, he took the opportunity to display some passive protest. She'd lean his leg up to get around it and he'd let it fall to a side. She'd pull it near and flatter and he'd pick it up toward him. Natasha glowered at the boy and he glared back as if to say threatening looks meant nothing to him. They clearly terrified the pair of eyes behind him, though. Natasha quickly finished and let the boy snatch his leg away while she stood and went to the front to click on a com.

"Sit down-" She ordered behind her while she picked up the walkie phone.

"We are sitting-" the boy retorted snidely.

"In a chair," Clint cut in, "Put some seatbelts on." They looked up toward him, but the girl began to move, crouching to help her brother. A bout of turbulence shook the cabin, forcing her to stumble, and quickly both of them began to move. Both Natasha and Clint could hear clicking from behind them where he situated his sister before hopping into one of the row of chairs lining the side of the hold.

"Q1 contacting Base. Come in base."

"Base here. What is it?"

"We're coming in with a load."

"A load? This wasn't a recovery mission."

"Stowaways."

"You can't drop them?"

"No, unfortunately, I don't think we can. We're bringing them in."

"Agent Romanov-"

"They're mutants, Hill."

There was a pause, shorter than anyone actually realized before,

"Understood." and both ends hung up. Everyone remained silent. No one seemed especially keen on said silence. Well, almost no one.

"So, what are your names?" Clint broke it for the rest of the group.

"You don't need to know that."

"Well, what are we supposed to call you then?"

"What do you care, why do you need to call us at all?"

"What, you wanna ride in silence- we've got a while till we get there, kid?"

"Better than talking to some dirty agent murderers and kidnapping monsters-"

"Look-"

"Now, I get that you're in a bad mood-" Clint turned in his own chair to face the children, his face beyond serious, cutting off Natasha and looking back into the boys eyes, "but it's no trouble at all to turn around and drop you back off where you came from if you want to be disrespectful. This isn't a kidnapping mind you- and it doesn't have to be a rescue." The boy stared back into his eyes defiantly for as long as he dared, but turned his head away, admitting defeat. His sister's small hand reached far from the very rigid seats to grab his and Clint turned back around.

"My name is Pietro. My sister's name is Wanda."

From next to a soft harumph, he responded with, "We're Clint and Natasha."

In no time at all really, but much longer than anyone in this particular group would have chosen to spend together, the party arrived at their destination. The children were forced to follow without explanation as Natasha and Clint unbuckled themselves and turned the jet off, heading out through the hold. Pietro groaned, putting weight on his leg, so Wanda tried to take on some of his weight, barely managing to keep up with the adults. Around them was a bare hanger, dark except for bright spotlights produced by high powered bulbs. There was little time to look around though as Natasha and Clint seemed to be cutting them no slack.

Outside the circular islands of light, in darkness black as a suit, who knew what might pop out and attack them? Though he was the one being helped, Pietro led his sister forward, keeping his eye on the adults. They headed down the gangway- the only plank of stability over a vacuumous abyss, trying to both fit on the thread of walkway that seemed to get thinner and thinner, and even though a guardrail was fastened to each side, the gaps between the two bars and each of the thin columns was far too big, and just invited children to slip through them like water helplessly flushed down a drain. Having successfully stepped down from this they passed hydraulic doors, the mouth of a sideways, silver monster, with jaws that opened so wide that it must be a trap, and doors that shut so fast you could probably be chopped in half. Into a hallway next with pipes slithering around the walls so tightly together they looked like a swarm, burying someone as small as they were, hissing with menace, gurgling hungry threats and sometimes shuddering as though readying for the strike. Finally they ascended a few tricky stairs, hurrying to avoid being left behind but dreading whatever it was they were growing near to, not unlike the trip to the stage for a hanging. Then it was to a big double doorway, and through another one of the same kind, this time opened with a passcode and a card. Ones just like in a prison. Inside was a much brighter room made seemingly purely of pale, creamy concrete with boxes stacked all around and some big cars parked in docks. Pietro could smell the scent of the outside through all the motor oil and stuffy recycled air somewhere nearby and Wanda began looking around, trying to see if she could find the bright, warm light of day.

"Where are we going?" Pietro finally asked.

"Check in." Clint didn't turn around.

"Check in what?"

"Unexpected cargo." Natasha answered.

"Where are we going?" The boy demanded now. Glancing back, Natasha could tell he was forming an even more uncomfortable take on the facility.

"Somewhere safe." her voice was more tired than reassuring. There was a quickened, stumbling, patter of feet before the children pushed past her and Clint and then stopped before them. The face Pietro wore clearly displayed his willingness to fight. His nostrils flared as he panted through his small nose and his eyes shifted between the woman's and the man's. Beneath his arm, Wanda's tiny nostrils pulsed too, but her eyes was quite plainly afraid.

"We won't." Pietro asserted, "We'll leave, we'll leave like you wanted. We don’t need your help. Show us how to get out of here, and we'll go-"

"That won't be necessary," Startled into jumping, the children nearly fell spinning around and looking up into the clean cut face and pressed suit of the Agent Coulson. He came to a curt stop hardly a foot behind them, perfect posture and hands clasped behind his back, a bit of a smile on his otherwise strategically common face. The way they acted, one might have assumed the boogeyman had suddenly materialized at their flank when the two children reeled, stumbling in reverse into Clint and Natasha and hugging the black clad "murdering kidnappers" close with their backs. Pietro pulled Wanda's head close to him to keep her from seeing.

Both Natasha and Clint watched the moment's long events transpire before exchanging cautionary looks until Coulson required their attention again,

"Mm, smaller than anticipated." he commented casually.

"Don't let the appearances fool you, they don't think they're small." Natasha nodded back.

"W-we won't go with the evil agents-" Pietro managed to voice, and Wanda even shook her head from where it was tucked. The look he was giving must have been amusing because the agent in question chuckled quietly.

"You're using 'Evil' as relative term." He briefly rebutted before he raised his head, "Where'd you find them?"

"They found us." Natasha nodded.

"What's the situation?"

"Isolated, possibly volatile-"

"Possibly?" Natasha made something of a gesture, questioning Clint's assessment.

"My personal opinion?" he continued, and Coulson gave a nod, "Threatened and on the brink."

"And you believe protection is required?"

"Yes." Both Clint and Natasha answered.

"Agency protection?"

"Yes." There was a pause, heavy among everyone who knew what was  transpiring as well those who didn't, but Coulson took a breath and seemed no more phased than if an ant or a spider had crossed his path.

"Good. Fury agrees with you. We'll take them on."

"Great." Clint nodded.

"As Assets."

"Alright." Natasha agreed.

"They'll receive training, protection and surveillance around the clock, and be placed in a discreet location with their handlers."

"Sounds like a good plan to me? Nat?" Clint spoke more to instill confidence in the children looking up at him now that they were being included in the conversation, than to his partner.

"Couldn't be any better." She didn't seem to care as much, agreeing, but making no moves to be a comfort.

"Spectacular. Your things are already en route. There will be more specific instructions on arrival."

"Wait, what?"

"Huh?"

"Think of it like a vacation." Coulson turned, heading away, "Where you're working."

Some vacation. Putting aside that it was, in fact, a work detail, when they were told they were headed to Vegas, at least there had been a glimmer of hope. Well, Vegas indeed is where they landed- in a small airport hangar for personal crafts- and loaded into a minivan cab that smelled like cabbage mostly with hints of other things- frying oil, burnt rubber, maybe feet- and overlaid with incense that was clearly meant to counteract the first volley of scents but only managed to mix with it into some sickening new olfactory safari. And then they arrived.

Standing in the Nevada sun, the children stood while their cargo was unloaded listening to a soundtrack of dog barks, muffled, blasted music from somewhere far off, tires screeching off maybe a block away. Here, there were the smells of cannabis drifting in and out over the hot breeze where the smoke of a small fire hitched a ride, and as the taxi abandoned them, all four members of the "Shields" family stared at their new neighborhood and new home.

***End of Part I***

[romancatholicreflections]

28th January >> Sunday Homilies and Reflections for Roman Catholics on the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B.

Fourth Sunday in  Ordinary Time -Year B

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Gospel : Mark 1:21-28

vs.21 In the city of Capernaum, on a sabbath, Jesus went to the synagogue and began to teach. vs.22 And his teaching made a great impression on them, because, unlike the scribes, he taught them with authority. vs.23 In their synagogue just then there was a man possessed by an unclean spirit, and it shouted, vs.24 “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are. vs. 25 But Jesus said sharply, ‘Be quiet! Come out of him!’ And the unclean spirit threw the man into convulsions and with a loud cry went out of him. The people were so astonished that they started asking each other what. it all meant. ‘Here is a teaching that is new’ they said ‘and with authority behind it: he gives orders even to unclean spirits and they obey him.’ And his reputation rapidly spread everywhere, through all the surrounding Galilean countryside.

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We have four commentators available from whom you may wish to choose . Scroll down to the name of the commentator.

Michel DeVerteuil : A Trinidadian Holy Ghost Father, late director of the Centre of Biblical renewal .

Thomas O’Loughlin: Professor of Historical Theology, University of Wales, Lampeter.

Sean Goan: Studied scripture in Rome, Jerusalem and Chicago and teaches at Blackrock College and works with Le Chéile

Donal Neary SJ: Editor of The Sacred Heart Messenger and National Director of The Apostlship of Prayer.

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Michel DeVerteuil Lectio Divina with the Sunday Gospels www.columba.ie

General Comments As we go on with our continuous reading of St Mark’s gospel, we find Jesus in Galilee where he starts his public ministry.

This passage is in three parts: – verses 21-22: a summary of the teaching of Jesus in the synagogue; – verses 23 to 27: an example of his ministry of driving out unclean spirits; – verse 28: the effect of Jesus’ ministry.

In the first section, the emphasis is on the contrast between Jesus and the scribes. Here the scribes are symbolical of those who are content to record the teachings of others; Jesus speaks with personal authority.

In verse 28 St Mark evokes, as he often does in his gospel, the spread of Jesus’ reputation. Ask yourself how the passage if being fulfilled today, of the church or of any great movement.

Prayer Reflections

Lord, when we look back on our lives we realize that most of those who gave us moral teachings spoke platitudes. They were scribes recording what others had said. But we thank you that from time to time you sent us someone like Jesus who spoke from their own experience, and shared honestly what they were feeling; these made a deep impression on us, because unlike scribes they spoke with authority.

“When the church concerns herself with the development of peoples, she cannot be accused of going outside her own specific field of competence, and still less outside the mandate received from the Lord.”     ...Pope John Paul II, Sollicitudo Rei Socialis

Lord, when the church confines herself to going to the synagogue and teaching, concerning herself with what is internal to her, many are happy – they rejoice that she is making a deep impression on them. But your will is that we should go further and cast out the demons of our society – racism, class conflicts, discrimination against the disadvantaged. When the church does this there are convulsions and loud cries. We thank you that in many countries the church has persevered in following Jesus, and people have been astonished and questioned themselves, and her reputation has spread as one who gives orders to unclean spirits and they obey her.

Lord, we remember a time when we were held in bondage by an inner force: – we could not forgive; – we did not want to commit ourselves because we were afraid of failure; – ambition was clouding our vision of the truth. Then someone began to speak, challenging us to face the truth – one of our children, a friend, a bible passage. We got angry, denied it vehemently, wept, complained to another. Like the man in the gospel, we went into convulsions and cried aloud. We realize now that it was because we knew that the Holy One of God was with us, he had come to do away with our sin. Eventually, after a long struggle, we recognized the demon for what it was, and it went out of us. Thank you, Lord.

“I can only reach that depth in my neighbour that I can reach in my own spirit.”  …Mathew Kelly, Cistercian monk

Lord, our teaching will be new and will have authority behind it only if we have accepted its authority within our own selves.

“Once brought into the light of mutual love, demons lose their power and quietly leave us.”   …Henry Now

Lord, we thank you for the times when we have been able to share deeply with a friend and something that was holding back our spiritual growth left us. We knew that Jesus of Nazareth was with us.

Lord, prayer is a moment when we pass from experiencing the teaching of Jesus as something vague to knowing that it has authority behind it, it gives orders even to unclean spirits and they obey it.

Lord, a movement will spread only of it moves from teaching in a closed room to casting out the unclean spirits which are oppressing society.

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Thomas O’Loughlin Liturgical Resources for the Year of Matthew www.columba.ie

Introduction to the Celebration

In today’s gospel we hear of the reactions of people on encountering Jesus when they were gathered as a community: they encountered him as a brother, as a unique teacher, and as the Holy One of God. In our gathering today we are encountering him as our brother, our teacher, and the Holy One of God who is calling us together to share his supper.

Homily Notes

1. Hearing the story about the possessed man brings a shiver to some of us, and a wry smile for others. For some, it is the tingly fringe of religion, an unsettling fear, and brings to mind films about possession or exorcism. This is where faith meets the eerie and the weird. For others, this is part of the historical dross that comes with Christianity having arisen before the modern psychiatry: it is just one more bit that needs to be dumped. For most people in an average congregation it will just be an item that does not seem important one way or the other: another bit of religion that just slips over us.

2. It is probably worthwhile acknowledging this range of reactions in the congregation. All too often people imagine that they, as individuals, are the only ones who have such reactions to the readings, and imagine that for the priest there are no such problems. This suspicion then breeds a form of alienation that makes people feel that they ‘deep down’ do not belong in the gathering.

3. So what can we learn from this passage despite our reactions to the exorcism? The whole passage is in the gospel to help a small group of Christians in the latter half of the first century to understand who Jesus is whom they are confessing to be ‘The Holy One of God.’ We can take ‘Holy One of God,’ the ‘Anointed One,’ and ‘The Christ’ to be just different forms of the same reality. Mark intended his preaching to be heard by the group when they gathered for the sacred meal which united them with one another and with the risen Christ, and so our hearing this gospel today is hearing it in a more formalised version of its original setting. So what aspect of faith in Jesus did Mark want to emphasise? Here lies the key to the passage: he wanted the gatherings to have an adequate appreciation of Jesus as the Christ.

4. Note that we are concerned with an adequate – adequate for us to realise that he is the Way – not a complete understanding: such might be possible in heaven, but never on earth. All the saints can testify that after a life-long pilgrimage of faith,they are just scratching the surface in understanding the significance of the Christ.

5. Mark was concerned that people hearing about Jesus might just imagine him as another preacher – so he adds that the people who encountered him were struck by his uniqueness: he was a teacher like no other. But Mark, equally, did not want people to think of him just as the greatest teacher: Jesus having come among us does the Father’s will, he liberates people from their demons, and he brings new life. But Mark, yet again, does not want Jesus just seen as a wonder-worker, a magician, so people must keep all these insights and try to understand them at the foot of the Cross. Only when we follow the teacher, the liberator, the one who suffered, and the one who rose from the dead do we start to imagine the mystery of the Holy One of God.

6. Getting some grasp of who we encounter in Jesus the Christ is the work of a lifetime. Sadly, many people think they know all about him. Our reflections here do not tell us who Jesus is; they merely attune us to being aware of the Holy One who encounters us in our loves, our trials, our fears, our talents,our demons, and right now in our gathering, our praying together, and our sharing in his banquet.

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Sean Goan Let the Reader Understand www.columba.ie

Gospel Notes

A dominant aspect of Jesus’ work in proclaiming the good news of the kingdom in Mark is his role as a teacher and this is particularly evident in the early chapters. Here we see his teaching making a deep impression on his hearers and they respond with wonder and astonishment. In this teaching Jesus was, no doubt, speaking of God’s will for the world in terms that were easily understood by his hearers. Added to this, his action of exorcising demons can be understood as a way of indicating the triumph of good over evil and showing that now is the time to respond with faith to God’s action in the world. The prevalence of exorcisms in the gospels is not to be taken as suggesting there was more demonic possession then than now. It is more likely that these accounts reflect ancient views around a range of illnesses that are more easily diagnosed nowadays.

Reflection

In this age of information technology and instant access to information and entertainment, we probably appreciate more than ever the worth of a really good teacher. It is an aspect of Jesus’ ministry that can easily be lost sight of, and that is a pity because it is more important that we understand his message than that we believe he was a miracle worker. As disciples we are challenged to continue to grow in understanding, to sit at the feet of Jesus the teacher and to take steps to make our own the wonderful good news of the kingdom. By being properly informed, we are less likely to be led astray by the whole range of ‘false prophets’ who today compete for our allegiance.

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Donal Neary SJ Gospel Reflections www.messenger.ie/bookshop/

The Power of Evil

Jesus was very aware of the power of evil that can be around us. Jesus named the spirit whatever that meant. This gave him power over the spirit. He knew evil when he met it and he overcame it, with love, power and with kindness for this man.

In Jesus the good and the evil of the world met.

One big evil in us is the ‘it’s mine’. We learn it from childhood.  We take the plate of cakes or a packet of sweets and say “all mine”.  We normally get over this but not always.  We need the conversion from it’s mine to it’s ours. That’s the christian way.  The environment is not ours, but for us. We have no right to kill off  livelihood all over the world for our paper, our oil and our greed.  Any abuse of people is the ‘you are mine’ syndrome.  Nobody owns anyone in this earth and we belong only to God in a free way.

Evil will never win out to the end. It has been conquered on the Cross, with love.

Somehow this man was possessed. Evil came into him and maybe it was not his fault. He left clean and whole, with a kindness in his heart he would never forget.  The people were amazed not just at Jesus but at the change in the man who had been possessed.

What are evil desires in myself?For control of others, for greed, for whatever leads me away from love.Imagine the light of God filling the darkness in me.Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.

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[mianmimi]

Emilie Autumn anon here. Haha, yeah, I know her music’s not for everyone. If you only liked Castle Down and weren’t too keen on Liar, then it’s likely you won’t enjoy her Opheliac or Fight Like a Girl eras, FLaG characterized by harsher sounds compared to her Opheliac era, though ironically the lyrics are focused on recovery and not as rage-filled as in her Opheliac era (her Opheliac era can be triggering for survivors of sexual assault, btw, as she is explicit about her own experience and suffering and doesn’t mince words when she calls rapists out, Liar is from this era). However, you might like stuff from her Enchant era, when she was pop baroque-ish and indie and sang about fairies and knights and Shakespeare characters. Maybe you’d enjoy songs like:

  Chambermaid: That moment when she sings “Tell me what I have to do to make you understand it’s a lost cause, lover” / “Hold me close when you were thinking of her” / “I don’t want to hear you say you love me” / “You’ve been gone such a long time won’t you tell where” / “Before I have to see this face I once adored” KILLS me with strordo feels. And it fits what you did with Misery Loves Company. Less a character’s thoughts and more like a dialogue between Mordo and Stephen. I also love the potential drama found in Stephen and Mordo fucking during Stephen’s time in KT, with Mordo knowing that Christine means something to Stephen yet not knowing exactly what, and thinking that Stephen is not attracted to him and just using him as a port in a storm while thinking of Christine. But Stephen’s just thinking of Mordo, probably in an incoherent inner monologue that’s pretty much Why is the world’s most beautiful man taking my dick??? *gives self a mental high-five*

  How Strange: Or as I like to call it, Emilie Autumn’s first and last foray into the uncharted lands of R&B lol

  Juliet: A song about *drum roll* Romeo and Juliet. She manages to make it sweet yet at the same there’s an undercurrent of “oh shit something’s about to happen” because... you know. Spoilers for all five people that don’t know but Romeo and Juliet die at the end. I love it mostly for the violin solo at the end. Emilie is quite the accomplished violinist and when she throws those violin solos it’s fucking awesome.

  Let the Record Show: You won’t enjoy this one, probably lol But for anyone interested in both Emilie and those songs I was going to use for that Karl Mordo Can’t Stop Falling for Problematic Men mix, this is one of them. It’s prime post-DS Mordo. “If I’m going down then I’m going down good” / “If I’m going down then I’m going down clean” / “If I’m going down then I’m going” / “The prettiest wretched whore you’ll ever see”

  Opheliac: Same as above lol this song is the one that gives the name to an era. Same as above, this was part of the fanmix. “I’ve been so disillusioned” / “I know you’d take me back, but still I feign confusion” / “I couldn’t be your friend, my world was too unstable” / “I’m open to attack, but I don’t wanna hurt you” / “How could you possibly think you had the power to know how to keep me breathing?” / “You know the games play and the words I say when I want my own way” / “You know the lies I tell when you’ve gone through hell and they say I can’t stay” / “You know how hard it can be to keep believing in me when everything and everyone becomes my enemy” / “And when there’s nothing more you can do, I’m gonna blame it on you” / “It’s not the way I wanna be” / “I only hope that in the end you will see”

  Mad Girl: Back to songs you might enjoy! lol This one is from the Opheliac era, actually, back when Emilie was obsessed with tragic women from fiction (mostly Shakespeare and Brit Lit) like Ophelia. For an Opheliac era song, its instrumentation is different and softly melancholic. Quick confession, this song always makes me cry. This one is also one of the songs for the aforementioned fanmix, because I will die before I stop referring to Karl Mordo as the classic-tragic-maiden-but-as-a-gay-man character that he is. “In all your fairytales, how did the prince say he loved you?” / “How did your father die?” / “Was he a good man?” / “My melancholy state, folly, fear, and hate, I know” / “My friend in this world is a bottle of nothing” / “Still I try, still I fall”

  Rapunzel: And we have arrived to the Enchant era! This song gives me sweet young Mordo staring out his window dreaming of his prince while stuck in Bavaria vibes. “If you sing loud and clear, someone passing by will surely hear you” / “No, you can’t be afraid”

  Rose Red: Another from Enchant. As you can tell, it’s vaguely related to Rose Red the fairytale. “Tell me no stories and I’ll tell you no lies” / “No one wants to hurt me but everybody tries” / “For this freedom I have given all I had” / “For this darkness I gave my light” / “For this wisdom I have lost my innocence” / “Take my petals and cover me with night”

  What If: This is peak Enchant era, imo. “I am far too tried to stay here” / “And I don’t care what you think of me” / “’Cause I think you were wrong about me” / “And what if you were?” / “What if I’m the kindest demon, something you may not believe in?” / “What if I’m a siren, singing gentlemen to sleep?” / “What if I’m a weeping willow, laughing tears upon my pillow?” / “What if I’m a socialite, who wants to be alone?” / “What if I’m an angel, without wings to take me home?” / “What if I’m a crowded desert, too much pain with little pleasure?” / “What if I don’t know who I am, will that keep us both from trying?”

  Special mention goes to Shalott, which I believe I already mentioned in the original post I made (or how I like to call it, Anon’s Evangelizing for Emilie Autumn lol), but I never added the lyrics that make go Mordo-bby-ilu-get-urself-a-good-man-ok. “She looks up the mirrored glass” / “She sees a handsome horse and rider pass” / “She says, ‘That man’s gonna be my death ‘cause he’s all I ever wanted in my life’” / “I know he doesn’t my name and that all the girls are all the same to him” / “So I’ll meet my death” / “But with my last breath I’ll sing to him my love and he’ll see my face in another place”

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Heya Nonny!

Oh wowowow! I’m listening to the song recommendations again right now. You hit the nail on the head with the songs I’d like more. I ended up listening to the Enchant album twice while the Opheliac album was very hard to get through, more so because of the subject matter though. It’s very raw and there’s a lot of pain and anger there. I don’t know much about the artist but I hope she’s recovering and is doing well now. Rape is a brutal experience and for her to share the emotions and thoughts she went through is extremely powerful and heartbreaking.

I actually really enjoyed “Shalott” and the acoustic version of “Mad Girl.” Her voice is super emotive and lively, raw with emotions. I can see why people can hear stordo, and more specifically Mordo in the songs.

“Juliet” has a gorgeous violin number at the start and throughout and it makes me think of Mordo playing the violin in his family castle, just thinking of the romances he used to read and how life is more tragic than romantic. T____T

“Chambermaid” really does give off the vibe that Christine’s still in the background of Mordo’s mind when he’s with Stephen. I also really enjoyed the fortune telling and card reading motifs of the song. It really needs to the magic aspect of strordo, as well as the ‘fated to meet’ aspect of their pairing.

“Rose Red” and “Rapunzel” give me youthful Mordo vibes. When he’s still hopefully and longing for the love found hia fairytales.

And okay.....I really, really fucking liked “How Strange.” Especially this part...

You know I think it's strange

Just a little bit deranged

That you think I'm gonna change to make you happy

If you can tell me why

I should wait around then I

May be coming down

But until then this means

You can see me in your dreams

Oh man that entire part makes me think of Mordo looking back at the night he walked away. He’s not gonna change just to make Stephen feel happy, and he’s asking why he should stay and wait. It’s so sad and I love it.

My favorite one amongst these songs though is....

“What If.” It’s honestly such a gorgeous song! Also a very vulnerable one.

And I'm far too tired to stay here anymore

And I don't care what you think anyway

'Cause I think you were wrong about me

Yeah what if you were, what if you were

And what if I'm a snowstorm burning

What if I'm a world unturning

What if I'm an ocean

Far too shallow, much too deep

What if I'm the kindest demon

Something you may not believe in

What if I'm a siren

Singing gentlemen to sleep

Ummmm....excuse me. That’s all Mordo to me. It’s heartbreaking, full of turmoil, full of brimming heartache and upheaval, like Mordo doesn’t even know who he is or where he belongs anymore. It makes me think of those months he spent away trying to figure it all out alone. Baby just....just please go home. Stephen’s waiting for you. Let him explain and make up for it baby ;____; Please

Thank you so much for sharing these recommendations Nonny! I’m not much of a rock or folk person. I’m actually realllly vanilla with my music taste, namely old power ballads and musical showstoppers hehehe. But that’s why I really appreciate it when people share different types of music with me! I enjoy discovering new things. And now I’m currently replying “What if” pretty much endlessly. I wouldn’t have discovered it if not for you. So thank you for sharing these Nonny!

[looking-to-the-moon-tonight]

Missing Creator (Part One)

(So, here is my contribution to this amazing fandom. It’s a crossover between Bendy and the Ink Machine and Steven Universe, but more heavily involved in the former. Simply changed a few characters to gems and added a new story with what I knew from both fandoms. You don’t have to be big into SU to understand. Let me know what you think, I’m always open to comments.)

All around him was crumbling walls and the life sustaining ink that helped him keep his form. Bendy stalked the halls, forcing searchers into submission and smashing furniture in his rage. With the help of the ink-corrupted gem, a sunstone by the name of Sammy, the ink demon had been searching for his second creator. But the blue quartz gem had seemingly vanished from the face of the earth and the demon had started to fear that he had fled to the ‘Homeworld’ that Joey spoke of so often.

           Bendy’s anger grew as he thought of the man who had given him and his fellow cartoons life. His form grew larger and the defining features were being engulfed by malformed limbs and dripping ink. Joey had betrayed him, had killed his best friend and tried to break the pentagram that allowed him to live. Bendy hadn’t had the chance to get revenge on the Fire Agate that formed his formerly beloved creator. He had been corrupted during his attempts to break the pentagram, the monster he had become roamed the lowest halls, waiting for a victim. He had been tempted to shatter him when he had found him in his new form, but he figured that corruption was a better punishment. Death would be too easy of an escape for him. He would have to settle for shattering Henry, who he hoped was in a non-corrupted state. It wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying to shatter a mindless beast.

As he continued to roam the studio, he spotted one of the Seeing Crystals. They were an invention of Joey’s, used to keep an eye on the cartoons and the employees, making sure that they were where they needed to be. When they glowed blue, it meant that everything was fine. But, if they took on a red hue, that meant that it had recorded something that needed to be reviewed and dealt with. This one was practically blood red and Bendy growled. It had probably recorded Sammy attempting to capture a ‘sheep’ for his rituals. Honestly, the ink demon couldn’t believe how many idiots came through the studio looking for thrills. He always made sure that they escaped unharmed. They were not the reason for his rage.

           Gently, he lifted a clawed hand and touched the crystal. It’s glow brightened before creating the hologram that held the scene. If his eyes were still visible, they would have been the size of dinner plates. This wasn’t one of Sammy’s failed attempts at sacrifice, this was from Before. When both his creators were in the studio, creating the cartoon that he starred in.

           In the scene was Joey and Henry. Silently, he watched as the two gems talked.

           “I’m telling you, this is a bad idea.” Henry said, a disappointing frown on his face, “Bringing toons to life is one thing. Bringing them to life to use against the Diamonds and their armies are another.”

           “It’s a brilliant idea!” Joey said, voice frantic, “Gems only know how to fight other gems, not how to fight ink creations! Each hit that would have poofed or shattered you or me wouldn’t affect them! They’d simply reform and keep fighting!”

           “But our toons are not fighters.” he said. Bendy could tell that they had had this conversation more than once from the tired and impatient tone the blue gem had, “They were created with the intent to make people smile and laugh, bring joy to those who see them, not put fear in their hearts!”

           Joey’s face changed as Henry spoke. The frantic look changed to resignation, probably as he realized that would never be able to change his partner’s mind on the fate of their beloved toons. “I’m tired of having this conversation Joey.” Henry said, turning his back on his friend, “We’ll find a way to fight back against the Diamonds, if they ever return. Just... not with Bendy or Boris.”

           With growing horror, Bendy watched as Joey drew the ever-familiar spear that was his weapon from his gem and buried it in the back of Henry. A look of shock took over his face as he turned to face his attacker, both saying something that wasn’t caught by the crystal before Henry disappeared in a cloud of smoke. The blue gem clattered to the floor and was picked up by it’s attacker.

           Joey looked about, trying to see if anyone had seen the attack. When he saw no one, he quickly bubbled the gem and walked away. The hologram ended and the Seeing Crystal returned to it’s normal state.

           Bendy was in shock. Joey had told him, when he first noticed that Henry was missing, that the blue gem had rushed to help some old friends. After weeks of waiting for his return, he had been told that the original story was a lie to hide the fact that Henry had abandoned them, in case he had snapped out of his mood and came back. Now, thirty years later, he knew the truth. Henry hadn’t left on his own accord, he had been attacked and hidden somewhere by Joey.

He gulped as he realized he had no clue what had happened to him after the attack. Had he been shattered and his remains hidden somewhere in the studio? Had he broken free, only to be turned into a corrupted gem? He had to know, so the demon began to search for answers.

It took a few weeks of frantic searching, but he finally had a lead. There had been a door in Joey’s office that had been locked up around the time that Henry had disappeared. He had always been directed in another direction whenever he had brought it up to Joey until the gem had threatened to make him a silent cartoon if he continued to ask. He had forgotten about it until recently, at first fearing Joey and then not finding himself concerned with his creator’s plans.

The door was easy to break in his large form, coating every inch of the room inside. It simply seemed like a storage room, filled with boxes of ink and bacon soup. But, as he investigated the space, he found something. A chest of sorts, kept with chains and a heavy lock. He took the chest out and brought it into the light, fearing what he would find inside.

The lock was easy enough to break and the chains fell away with it. Bendy hesitated for a moment, feeling a bit of despair in his chest. If Henry wasn’t in here, he didn’t have anywhere else to look. It was entirely possible that the gem had been hidden outside the studio, to prevent their cartoons from finding him. He might never find his missing creator.

He took a breath. Fretting over possibilities wasn’t going to help solve the mystery of where Henry was. Opening the chest would at least knock one thing of the list and then he could focus on other spots.

Slowly, he opened the top of the chest, revealing the contents inside. The ink around him fell off in chunks as he took in the sight. On an old pillow, one that Bendy recognized as the one Henry used when he stayed overnight in the studio, was a fire-colored bubble. Inside the bubble was a blue gem, the one that resided on Henry’s right hand for as long as he could remember. Trembling, the rapidly shrinking demon took the bubble out of the chest. The creator he had lost, had held so much rage against, had been in the studio all along. Betrayed by his best friend and locked in a chest for thirty years…

Inky tears dropped from Bendy’s face as he cradled the bubbled gem. He knew how they worked, he knew that bubbling prevented a gem from healing and regenerating their form. Henry had been hurt for decades and Joey had let it happen. He gritted his teeth, an inner war going on in his head. Part of him wanted to pop the bubble his creator was trapped in, let him heal and continue living the life had had before. Another worried that Henry wouldn’t be able to handle what had happened and that being bubbled was better for the gem. The studio was dangerous now as well, who knew what would happen to him if he ran across the searchers, Sammy, or, god forbid, the corrupted form of Joey.

He simply starred at the gem for a few minutes before sighing. It wasn’t fair to keep him locked away, no matter what happened. It didn’t matter if he popped the bubble today or in a hundred years. He would eventually have to face the betrayal and learn how to live again. Better to do it now than put it off for later. Maybe he could even help him fix the studio up, make it what it used to be.

Bendy popped the bubble, flinching at how loud the action was. The floating gem inside fell into his hand and it felt strange. His creator was defenseless right now, he could easily shatter him with enough force and he could do nothing about it. A voice in the back of his head, one that had grown dangerously loud after Joey’s betrayal, whispered for him to do it, it would be easier for all of them if he just destroyed him now and didn’t allow that can of worms to be opened. But another, louder voice was telling him to protect the gem and, when he was back to normal, he would do the same.

He pushed both to the back of his mind, already knowing which one to trust. He stood and held the gem close to his chest, along with the pillow inside the chest. For now, he would take him upstairs and let him rest. Once he was healed, he would come back and Bendy would explain everything to him then. For now, he was just glad that he had found his creator.

[theanonymousninja247]

Philia

Love isn’t always some big grandiose moment or occasion

Sometimes…

Sometimes love is just your best friend buying you cake with whip cream because she knows you don’t care for frosting and then “sneaking” the package into your room because she’s a devious little gremlin like that.

Sometimes love is the feeling of cake tasting sweeter because it was given by someone who cares 🧡🍰

I see you, you little buttnugget @anobodyinabog

[chocolate-brownies]

My Other Yoga: The Class by Taryn Toomey

My Other Yoga: The Class by Taryn Toomey:

For one yoga teacher, trying something that felt like the complete opposite of her alignment-focused asana style turned out to transform her yoga practice—and her life.

The electricity I felt running through my body at the end of the second song let me know that I had made the right choice in coming to this class.

I had resisted trying The Class by Taryn Toomey based on the reviews I’d read: A “cathartic fitness class” that creates a “visceral experience” and “moves you emotionally.” People also talked about it being “incredibly healing.”

With a history of trauma that I have steadily worked to overcome for 20-plus years, I was intimidated to say the least.

See also 7 Poses to Release Trauma in the Body

Then one morning, I woke up with a sense that I needed to try The Class by TT. In fact, it felt urgent. So, when I checked the Los Angeles schedule and saw that there was a class in Hollywood, I made the hour-long trek from my home in Santa Monica to the Wanderlust yoga studio, where I was greeted by founding teacher, Natalie Kuhn.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was nervous—and a little afraid. Not for the fitness part; I have been an athlete all my life and I’m a yoga teacher, too. I know how to align and take care of my body. I was nervous for the other bit. The cathartic, visceral, emotional bit.

The Moment That Inspired Me to Go to The Class by Taryn Toomey

I am a mother of three, and my middle child suffers from multiple sensory processing and integration disorders. When information goes into her brain, it often gets lost or confused. Understandably, that’s disheartening and frustrating for her—and the result is explosive rages, which can go on for hours on end. Over the last five years that this has been happening, her outbursts have escalated despite my husband and I seeking answers and help from countless practitioners.

Just a couple days before I tried The Class by TT, one of my daughter’s doctors asked if we could video one of her “tantrums.” In my experience of these episodes, I am always 100 percent present with her. I say the right things; I connect with her; I do everything I can to meet her needs. But when I watched the video my husband recorded for the doctor, I noticed that I wasn’t there with her at all. In fact, I was disassociated—a skill I had learned in my trauma-filled youth.

When things got loud and violent in my childhood home, I would leave my body. And when I watched that video, I realized I was doing the same thing with my 7-year-old. In that moment, I realized I needed to learn how to stay in my body, so I could stay present with my daughter and truly connect with her when she needs me most. I needed to learn how to stay in it with her when I wanted it all to end, or I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Karly Treacy with her family.

How The Class By TT Taught Me True Embodiment

Natalie began class by letting us know that we were going to be uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. But she explained the difference between injurious discomfort—the kind that’ll get you injured—and the discomfort that’s the result of your brain saying, This is hard, and here is how to make it stop. (That’s the kind of discomfort that makes you stop the jumping jack, put your leg down, rest before the exercise is over, you get the gist.)

During that first song of class, we performed an excruciating number of squats and squat jumps. Immediately, my inner dialogue kicked in. Oh, I did not have enough coffee for this. Further into that first song, as it continued far longer than I wanted it to, I began to panic—to doubt my strength, my health, and my abilities. Natalie cued us to drop the panic talk (it was like she was totally in my head) and to drop into our breath.

Connecting to my breath was familiar to me thanks to my yoga practice. That I could do. When the second song began, and we were gracefully pushed into endless jumping jacks, that same panic started to creep in again. This time, Natalie asked us “to start to notice the feelings that come up the moment things get really challenging.” In that moment, I realized that in my mind, I was in the parking lot, in my car, about to drive home. I was doing the exact thing I needed to not be doing. Worse, I was mentally leaving my body and not feeling anything at all. I knew in that moment that this was the exact work I needed. And by the end of the second song, I felt like a beautiful blend of exhilaration, peace, surrender, and release. My soul was singing.

That first class was a little over a year ago, and I have continued to practice this practice. For me, this work has been a profound awakening of self. I have confronted and healed more demons in the depths of my humanity in this past year than I’d done in more than 20 years of therapy.

I’ve been a student of yoga for more than 25 years, and my yoga practice has given me the gift of knowing how to stay present on my mat. I’ve always studied with alignment-focused teachers, such as Annie Carpenter and Natasha Rizopoulos. And there is absolutely a place for this. Yet what I’m learning in The Class by TT is that in spending all of those years solely focused on alignment cues on my yoga mat, I was actually distracting myself from really feeling.

See also 7 Myths About Yoga Alignment

In The Class by TT, with my heart racing, sweat pouring off every inch of my body, breath compromised, and everything in me screaming GET OUT OF HERE, I have learned how to stay in my body, and how to quiet the negative thought patterns that challenge my abilities to really be in it—whether it’s a series of exercises or the heartache that accompanies watching my daughter rage that’s pushing me to the max.

The beauty of impermanence is that nothing lasts forever. This practice has helped me see that there is powerful medicine in staying present with the good, the bad, and the indifferent. And when I show up—really show up—I can soak up the lessons my body and soul are trying to teach me so that I can life this beautiful life more fully.

[cedarrrun]

For one yoga teacher, trying something that felt like the complete opposite of her alignment-focused asana style turned out to transform her yoga practice—and her life.

The electricity I felt running through my body at the end of the second song let me know that I had made the right choice in coming to this class.

I had resisted trying The Class by Taryn Toomey based on the reviews I’d read: A “cathartic fitness class” that creates a “visceral experience” and “moves you emotionally.” People also talked about it being “incredibly healing.”

With a history of trauma that I have steadily worked to overcome for 20-plus years, I was intimidated to say the least.

See also 7 Poses to Release Trauma in the Body

Then one morning, I woke up with a sense that I needed to try The Class by TT. In fact, it felt urgent. So, when I checked the Los Angeles schedule and saw that there was a class in Hollywood, I made the hour-long trek from my home in Santa Monica to the Wanderlust yoga studio, where I was greeted by founding teacher, Natalie Kuhn.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was nervous—and a little afraid. Not for the fitness part; I have been an athlete all my life and I’m a yoga teacher, too. I know how to align and take care of my body. I was nervous for the other bit. The cathartic, visceral, emotional bit.

The Moment That Inspired Me to Go to The Class by Taryn Toomey

I am a mother of three, and my middle child suffers from multiple sensory processing and integration disorders. When information goes into her brain, it often gets lost or confused. Understandably, that’s disheartening and frustrating for her—and the result is explosive rages, which can go on for hours on end. Over the last five years that this has been happening, her outbursts have escalated despite my husband and I seeking answers and help from countless practitioners.

Just a couple days before I tried The Class by TT, one of my daughter’s doctors asked if we could video one of her “tantrums.” In my experience of these episodes, I am always 100 percent present with her. I say the right things; I connect with her; I do everything I can to meet her needs. But when I watched the video my husband recorded for the doctor, I noticed that I wasn’t there with her at all. In fact, I was disassociated—a skill I had learned in my trauma-filled youth.

When things got loud and violent in my childhood home, I would leave my body. And when I watched that video, I realized I was doing the same thing with my 7-year-old. In that moment, I realized I needed to learn how to stay in my body, so I could stay present with my daughter and truly connect with her when she needs me most. I needed to learn how to stay in it with her when I wanted it all to end, or I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Karly Treacy with her family.

How The Class By TT Taught Me True Embodiment

Natalie began class by letting us know that we were going to be uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. But she explained the difference between injurious discomfort—the kind that’ll get you injured—and the discomfort that’s the result of your brain saying, This is hard, and here is how to make it stop. (That’s the kind of discomfort that makes you stop the jumping jack, put your leg down, rest before the exercise is over, you get the gist.)

During that first song of class, we performed an excruciating number of squats and squat jumps. Immediately, my inner dialogue kicked in. Oh, I did not have enough coffee for this. Further into that first song, as it continued far longer than I wanted it to, I began to panic—to doubt my strength, my health, and my abilities. Natalie cued us to drop the panic talk (it was like she was totally in my head) and to drop into our breath.

Connecting to my breath was familiar to me thanks to my yoga practice. That I could do. When the second song began, and we were gracefully pushed into endless jumping jacks, that same panic started to creep in again. This time, Natalie asked us “to start to notice the feelings that come up the moment things get really challenging.” In that moment, I realized that in my mind, I was in the parking lot, in my car, about to drive home. I was doing the exact thing I needed to not be doing. Worse, I was mentally leaving my body and not feeling anything at all. I knew in that moment that this was the exact work I needed. And by the end of the second song, I felt like a beautiful blend of exhilaration, peace, surrender, and release. My soul was singing.

That first class was a little over a year ago, and I have continued to practice this practice. For me, this work has been a profound awakening of self. I have confronted and healed more demons in the depths of my humanity in this past year than I’d done in more than 20 years of therapy.

I’ve been a student of yoga for more than 25 years, and my yoga practice has given me the gift of knowing how to stay present on my mat. I’ve always studied with alignment-focused teachers, such as Annie Carpenter and Natasha Rizopoulos. And there is absolutely a place for this. Yet what I’m learning in The Class by TT is that in spending all of those years solely focused on alignment cues on my yoga mat, I was actually distracting myself from really feeling.

See also 7 Myths About Yoga Alignment

In The Class by TT, with my heart racing, sweat pouring off every inch of my body, breath compromised, and everything in me screaming GET OUT OF HERE, I have learned how to stay in my body, and how to quiet the negative thought patterns that challenge my abilities to really be in it—whether it’s a series of exercises or the heartache that accompanies watching my daughter rage that's pushing me to the max.

The beauty of impermanence is that nothing lasts forever. This practice has helped me see that there is powerful medicine in staying present with the good, the bad, and the indifferent. And when I show up—really show up—I can soak up the lessons my body and soul are trying to teach me so that I can life this beautiful life more fully.

[remedialmassage]

My Other Yoga: The Class by Taryn Toomey

For one yoga teacher, trying something that felt like the complete opposite of her alignment-focused asana style turned out to transform her yoga practice—and her life.

The electricity I felt running through my body at the end of the second song let me know that I had made the right choice in coming to this class.

I had resisted trying The Class by Taryn Toomey based on the reviews I’d read: A “cathartic fitness class” that creates a “visceral experience” and “moves you emotionally.” People also talked about it being “incredibly healing.”

With a history of trauma that I have steadily worked to overcome for 20-plus years, I was intimidated to say the least.

See also 7 Poses to Release Trauma in the Body

Then one morning, I woke up with a sense that I needed to try The Class by TT. In fact, it felt urgent. So, when I checked the Los Angeles schedule and saw that there was a class in Hollywood, I made the hour-long trek from my home in Santa Monica to the Wanderlust yoga studio, where I was greeted by founding teacher, Natalie Kuhn.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was nervous—and a little afraid. Not for the fitness part; I have been an athlete all my life and I’m a yoga teacher, too. I know how to align and take care of my body. I was nervous for the other bit. The cathartic, visceral, emotional bit.

The Moment That Inspired Me to Go to The Class by Taryn Toomey

I am a mother of three, and my middle child suffers from multiple sensory processing and integration disorders. When information goes into her brain, it often gets lost or confused. Understandably, that’s disheartening and frustrating for her—and the result is explosive rages, which can go on for hours on end. Over the last five years that this has been happening, her outbursts have escalated despite my husband and I seeking answers and help from countless practitioners.

Just a couple days before I tried The Class by TT, one of my daughter’s doctors asked if we could video one of her “tantrums.” In my experience of these episodes, I am always 100 percent present with her. I say the right things; I connect with her; I do everything I can to meet her needs. But when I watched the video my husband recorded for the doctor, I noticed that I wasn’t there with her at all. In fact, I was disassociated—a skill I had learned in my trauma-filled youth.

When things got loud and violent in my childhood home, I would leave my body. And when I watched that video, I realized I was doing the same thing with my 7-year-old. In that moment, I realized I needed to learn how to stay in my body, so I could stay present with my daughter and truly connect with her when she needs me most. I needed to learn how to stay in it with her when I wanted it all to end, or I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Karly Treacy with her family.

How The Class By TT Taught Me True Embodiment

Natalie began class by letting us know that we were going to be uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. But she explained the difference between injurious discomfort—the kind that’ll get you injured—and the discomfort that’s the result of your brain saying, This is hard, and here is how to make it stop. (That’s the kind of discomfort that makes you stop the jumping jack, put your leg down, rest before the exercise is over, you get the gist.)

During that first song of class, we performed an excruciating number of squats and squat jumps. Immediately, my inner dialogue kicked in. Oh, I did not have enough coffee for this. Further into that first song, as it continued far longer than I wanted it to, I began to panic—to doubt my strength, my health, and my abilities. Natalie cued us to drop the panic talk (it was like she was totally in my head) and to drop into our breath.

Connecting to my breath was familiar to me thanks to my yoga practice. That I could do. When the second song began, and we were gracefully pushed into endless jumping jacks, that same panic started to creep in again. This time, Natalie asked us “to start to notice the feelings that come up the moment things get really challenging.” In that moment, I realized that in my mind, I was in the parking lot, in my car, about to drive home. I was doing the exact thing I needed to not be doing. Worse, I was mentally leaving my body and not feeling anything at all. I knew in that moment that this was the exact work I needed. And by the end of the second song, I felt like a beautiful blend of exhilaration, peace, surrender, and release. My soul was singing.

That first class was a little over a year ago, and I have continued to practice this practice. For me, this work has been a profound awakening of self. I have confronted and healed more demons in the depths of my humanity in this past year than I’d done in more than 20 years of therapy.

I’ve been a student of yoga for more than 25 years, and my yoga practice has given me the gift of knowing how to stay present on my mat. I’ve always studied with alignment-focused teachers, such as Annie Carpenter and Natasha Rizopoulos. And there is absolutely a place for this. Yet what I’m learning in The Class by TT is that in spending all of those years solely focused on alignment cues on my yoga mat, I was actually distracting myself from really feeling.

See also 7 Myths About Yoga Alignment

In The Class by TT, with my heart racing, sweat pouring off every inch of my body, breath compromised, and everything in me screaming GET OUT OF HERE, I have learned how to stay in my body, and how to quiet the negative thought patterns that challenge my abilities to really be in it—whether it’s a series of exercises or the heartache that accompanies watching my daughter rage that's pushing me to the max.

The beauty of impermanence is that nothing lasts forever. This practice has helped me see that there is powerful medicine in staying present with the good, the bad, and the indifferent. And when I show up—really show up—I can soak up the lessons my body and soul are trying to teach me so that I can life this beautiful life more fully.

from Yoga Journal https://ift.tt/2N2hqJm

[amyddaniels]

My Other Yoga: The Class by Taryn Toomey

For one yoga teacher, trying something that felt like the complete opposite of her alignment-focused asana style turned out to transform her yoga practice—and her life.

The electricity I felt running through my body at the end of the second song let me know that I had made the right choice in coming to this class.

I had resisted trying The Class by Taryn Toomey based on the reviews I’d read: A “cathartic fitness class” that creates a “visceral experience” and “moves you emotionally.” People also talked about it being “incredibly healing.”

With a history of trauma that I have steadily worked to overcome for 20-plus years, I was intimidated to say the least.

See also 7 Poses to Release Trauma in the Body

Then one morning, I woke up with a sense that I needed to try The Class by TT. In fact, it felt urgent. So, when I checked the Los Angeles schedule and saw that there was a class in Hollywood, I made the hour-long trek from my home in Santa Monica to the Wanderlust yoga studio, where I was greeted by founding teacher, Natalie Kuhn.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was nervous—and a little afraid. Not for the fitness part; I have been an athlete all my life and I’m a yoga teacher, too. I know how to align and take care of my body. I was nervous for the other bit. The cathartic, visceral, emotional bit.

The Moment That Inspired Me to Go to The Class by Taryn Toomey

I am a mother of three, and my middle child suffers from multiple sensory processing and integration disorders. When information goes into her brain, it often gets lost or confused. Understandably, that’s disheartening and frustrating for her—and the result is explosive rages, which can go on for hours on end. Over the last five years that this has been happening, her outbursts have escalated despite my husband and I seeking answers and help from countless practitioners.

Just a couple days before I tried The Class by TT, one of my daughter’s doctors asked if we could video one of her “tantrums.” In my experience of these episodes, I am always 100 percent present with her. I say the right things; I connect with her; I do everything I can to meet her needs. But when I watched the video my husband recorded for the doctor, I noticed that I wasn’t there with her at all. In fact, I was disassociated—a skill I had learned in my trauma-filled youth.

When things got loud and violent in my childhood home, I would leave my body. And when I watched that video, I realized I was doing the same thing with my 7-year-old. In that moment, I realized I needed to learn how to stay in my body, so I could stay present with my daughter and truly connect with her when she needs me most. I needed to learn how to stay in it with her when I wanted it all to end, or I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Karly Treacy with her family.

How The Class By TT Taught Me True Embodiment

Natalie began class by letting us know that we were going to be uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. But she explained the difference between injurious discomfort—the kind that’ll get you injured—and the discomfort that’s the result of your brain saying, This is hard, and here is how to make it stop. (That’s the kind of discomfort that makes you stop the jumping jack, put your leg down, rest before the exercise is over, you get the gist.)

During that first song of class, we performed an excruciating number of squats and squat jumps. Immediately, my inner dialogue kicked in. Oh, I did not have enough coffee for this. Further into that first song, as it continued far longer than I wanted it to, I began to panic—to doubt my strength, my health, and my abilities. Natalie cued us to drop the panic talk (it was like she was totally in my head) and to drop into our breath.

Connecting to my breath was familiar to me thanks to my yoga practice. That I could do. When the second song began, and we were gracefully pushed into endless jumping jacks, that same panic started to creep in again. This time, Natalie asked us “to start to notice the feelings that come up the moment things get really challenging.” In that moment, I realized that in my mind, I was in the parking lot, in my car, about to drive home. I was doing the exact thing I needed to not be doing. Worse, I was mentally leaving my body and not feeling anything at all. I knew in that moment that this was the exact work I needed. And by the end of the second song, I felt like a beautiful blend of exhilaration, peace, surrender, and release. My soul was singing.

That first class was a little over a year ago, and I have continued to practice this practice. For me, this work has been a profound awakening of self. I have confronted and healed more demons in the depths of my humanity in this past year than I’d done in more than 20 years of therapy.

I’ve been a student of yoga for more than 25 years, and my yoga practice has given me the gift of knowing how to stay present on my mat. I’ve always studied with alignment-focused teachers, such as Annie Carpenter and Natasha Rizopoulos. And there is absolutely a place for this. Yet what I’m learning in The Class by TT is that in spending all of those years solely focused on alignment cues on my yoga mat, I was actually distracting myself from really feeling.

See also 7 Myths About Yoga Alignment

In The Class by TT, with my heart racing, sweat pouring off every inch of my body, breath compromised, and everything in me screaming GET OUT OF HERE, I have learned how to stay in my body, and how to quiet the negative thought patterns that challenge my abilities to really be in it—whether it’s a series of exercises or the heartache that accompanies watching my daughter rage that's pushing me to the max.

The beauty of impermanence is that nothing lasts forever. This practice has helped me see that there is powerful medicine in staying present with the good, the bad, and the indifferent. And when I show up—really show up—I can soak up the lessons my body and soul are trying to teach me so that I can life this beautiful life more fully.