#ITS SO STUPID. WHY WOULD YOU PUNISH MISTAKES LIKE THIS WHEN LEARNING???

[mothpile]

duolingo added fucking Lives onto my desktop version so im taking direct action

[7seas-of-ryy]

Rock Paper Scissors

Author’s Note: I really love the idea of Rhys, Cass, and the reader doing stupid things together :))

Summary: You get in trouble with your High Lord and get sent on a mission as a punishment

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: let me know if I need to add any :)

"How did you get stuck doing this?" Azriel asked you

You were both hiking through a dense rain forrest, in search of a special tree. The wood had some sort of magical powers and even one branch would help the Night Court out.

"Cass and I helped Rhys sneak Nyx out so we could try to fly with him." you told the shadowsinger

"What?!" He responded with a small laugh

You, Cassian, and Rhys all woke up Nyx early from his nap to try and sneak him out. Feyre didn't want him learning how to fly yet but Rhys was so excited. And there were three of you, so you knew Nyx would be safe.

Rhys was on top of the hill with Nyx while you and Cass were at the base of it. Right before his first attempt, Feyre showed up and stopped it. You and Cass took off before she could see you and went back home, leaving Rhys to take all the heat.

You and Cassian were sitting in chairs in the living room pretending you had been there for a long time when Feyre walked in holding Nyx and Rhys was close behind her.

She was yelling at him for a good five minutes before she took a breath.

"He was completely safe, I promise. Just please calm down." Rhys made the mistake of telling her.

"Calm down? You wanted to teach my son to fly without my permission and you're telling me to calm down?!" She screeched

You and Cassian couldn't help but stare and listen as Rhys got scolded.

"No sex for 2 weeks." She told her mate.

"That's not fair at all!" Rhys pouted.

"Oh yeah? Then make it a month!" She told him as she left the room.

At that, you and Cass both let out a laugh you had been desparately trying to hold in. Rhys snapped his head to you both, glaring at the two of you, which caused you both to straighten up.

You pretended to be looking at something on the carpet while Cass pretended to look at the ceiling.

"Ah y/n look at this..." Cassian trailed off, trying to make it look like you two weren't paying attention.

"Oh my, I've never seen such a great ceiling" You added as Rhys came up to you two.

"A great celing?" Rhys questioned

"Yeah I mean, you have outdone yourself. This ceiling is really something." Cass stated trying to get out of it.

"Cass is right, I haven't noticed til now how great it is!" You added

"I know you both were listening in on that. And I also know that you were both with me and tried to get him to fly as well. Seeing as Feyre is punishing me, it is only fitting I punish the both of you." Your High Lord told you both

"He had two missions, one was surveillance and the other was to find this tree with you. Neither of us wanted the surveillance job so we did rock paper scissors and Cass lost." You told Az after explaining everything

"So that's why he was pouting when we left," he huffed a laugh, "well I'm glad its you with me, you're much better company."

A blush rose to your face and he smirked at you. You didn't know what to say so you just continued on. The shadowsinger led you both through the forest, you closely behind him.

After about 20 minutes of walking, your eyes drifted to the male in front of you. You admired his large wings for a few moments then your eyes drifted lower until they reached his-

"I can feel you staring." he spoke suddenly.

"I was not!" you tried to defend yourself but you were most definitely checking him out.

His back was still to you as he spoke again, "It's ok, I check you out when you're not looking too."

Your face must've looked like a tomato at this point.

"Can we just focus on the mission?" you questioned, trying desperately to change the subject.

"It's your lucky day, I see the tree up ahead." He stated

The two of you finally reached the tree and you realized a lot of the lower branches looked rotten. You would have to get a branch that was higher up.

"Come here, I'm gonna lift you up and you can cut one of the branches." he told you

"What?! Why can't you just fly up there or use magic to get it?" You argued.

"Because if I use my magic or fly above the tree, it might alert enemies and we don't know what lives in this forest." He explained.

"Fine" you said while walking over to him.

Before you could ask how he wanted to do it, he was lifting you as if you weighed nothing. He had grabbed your hips lifting you up until you were sitting on his shoulder. You quickly cut one of the branches and dropped it down.

He spun your body around til you were facing him and slowly slid you down his body. He stopped you when you were face to face, your feet not touching the ground. His hands were under you butt, holding you up.

Your breath hitched when you realized how close you two actually were.

After a few seconds, he continued to slide you down his body until your feet hit the ground. You quickly looked away, ending the moment, both of you getting red at what just happened.

"We should get going, we still have a little ways to go until we get to the cottage." He coughed and told you.

"Cottage?" You thought this was just a quick mission and you already had the branch.

"Rhys doesn't want us traveling at night. We haven't searched these areas yet and we don't want to learn the hard way what comes out in the dark." He told you

The pair of you continued on for another hour towards the cabin in silence. You started to feel eery, as if something was watching you. Az's shadows slowly made their way over to you, swirling around you like a shield.

"Y/N!" Az shouted but you couldn't hear him.

A giant ball of water had swept you up and trapped you inside. You couldn't get out no matter how hard you swam. It was taking you in the opposite direction of the shadowsinger.

The burning in your lungs was too painful. Right as you were about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, you felt a tingle in your chest. It was like there was a little ball of energy inside you and you reached for it.

As you touched it, light exploded all around you, no. The light was coming from... you? The bubble of water you were being held captive in burst and you fell, clawing at your throat for air.

Azriel ran to you on the ground, pulling you into his lap.

"Hey, look at me. Just breath, I've got you." He continued whispering encouraging words into your ear as your breath returned to normal.

You finally looked up at the male holding you and felt relief flood your body at the realization that you were safe in his arms. He put his forehead to yours and closed his eyes.

"You're safe, you're alive." He kept repeating as if he was trying to convince himself.

You opened your eyes and and once again realized how close the two of you were. If you leaned just a little bit closer, your lips might touch.

He opened his eyes after a couple moments and you just sat there, gazing into each other's eyes.

This time, it was his turn to break your stares. He looked around making sure there weren't any other threats.

"Lets hurry and get to that cottage. Will you be okay to walk? I can carry you if you would like." Az offered.

"I can walk, lets get going. I don't want to find out anymore about whatever that thing was." You quickly spoke.

You continued the walk to the cottage, this time with Az very close behind you. He was so close, he would brush against you every few minutes and it was driving you crazy.

After almost kissing him twice, his touch was sending you into overdrive. You slowed down at one point so you wouldn't trip over some roots and he bumped into your back. You could've sworn you heard him groan.

Finally, you made it to the cabin and once you both entered and ensured it was safe inside, Az started to get a fire going.

"You need to take off those clothes, they're soaking wet. I can lay them by the fire so they'll dry." He spoke, breaking the long silence between you two.

"Um I didn't know we would be gone for more than one day so I didn't bring any extra clothes." You confessed, feeling unprepared.

"Here, you can wear my extra shirt I brought. I don't have any extra pants but I think it'll be big enough to cover you." He offered.

With a grateful smile, you grabbed the shirt for him and went to change only to realize this was a very tiny cabin. Meaning there was no other room for you to change in privacy.

"Could you...turn around so I can change?" you asked.

"What? Oh uh yeah sorry." He spoke, his cheeks burning.

He turned around and you peeled the soaking wet clothes from you skin and put his large shirt on. It went down to the middle of your thighs.

"Alright you can look" You spoke.

He turned around and his eyes immediately darkened. They trailed up your body admiring the way his clothes fit you. You couldn't help but notice his eyes linger on your bare legs and you could feel the room get hotter but you knew it wasn't from the fire.

"What happened out there?" You finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper

"I'm not sure but I think it might have something to do with the branch? I think it saved you but we can figure that out when we get back to the Night Court tomorrow. Right now I'm just concerned with making sure you're safe and warm." Az stated firmly

You were still standing on opposite sides of the room, both unsure of what to do next. He hadn't taken his eyes off of you for even a second since turning around.

"Well I'm safe now, but how will you help me warm up?" you asked with a soft smile.

Azriel started to stalk towards you, so slowly. He had a hunger in his eyes and you felt excitement grow in your stomach.

He stopped once he was standing right in front of you, his hand playing with the hem of his shirt you were wearing.

"I had a few ideas." He growled

Before he could fully finish his last word, you leapt forward slotting your lips on his. He lifted you up as you kissed and walked over to the fire. He slowly laid you down on the floor next to it, quickly laying on top of you to continue kissing you.

The pair of you stayed like that for a while, enjoying the feel of the other's lips. Eventually you pulled apart for some much needed air.

"I'm really glad I beat Cass in rock, paper, scissors." you said with a smile before pulling Az back down to you.

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@miadialila

[shellem15]

Anyways I'm still not over my devil boys. Thinking about all the parallels between them:

Because like, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, right? Draws in and punishes people for trying to be good, trying to *help* those they care about. And whether they succeed or not is irrelevant because in the end they're damned either way. That's the lie, then, that their sacrifice would ever actually change their fate.

And its just: HELL IS LIKE THAT BECAUSE IT’S A REFLECTION OF ITS LORD AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED TO *HIM*. THAT’S WHAT MADE HIM REAL IN THE FIRST PLACE AND NOW HES STUCK LIKE IT FOREVER!!!

That's what happened to Asmodeus and then he did it to Vespin Chloras and Zerxus and then Zerxus tried to do it with Pike too (in tlovm). It's a never-ending cycle where the one who's burned then becomes the fire for the next person!!! UGHHH

And it all starts with that one act of good intent, that act of sacrifice! Imri throwing himself to the flames, knowing he would burn, to protect his family at the cost of himself. Luz saving him but in the end he chooses to burn anyways, this time out of hate. Zerxus selling his soul to save his son and his world, knowing that damnation would be the end result. Nydas giving him an out, killing him before dawn struck but Zerxus stubbornly, hubristically clinging to life, to his ideals and pride, anyways. Choosing to burn and losing himself entirely in the process.

(Ironically enough Vespin kind of breaks the cycle? Trying to replace a god to remove a great evil from the world and instead damning it in the process. But when given his mind back he takes this chance and stretches it as far as he can, choosing not to be the fire but to give his world a chance at survival. Doing it knowing he will be hated anyways. Learning from his mistake, humbled at the consequences of his hubris where Asmodeus and Zerxus grew proud. Burning for it anyways. I get the sense that if he was given an out he would take it, unlike the other two.)

Love becomes sacrifice becomes resentment becomes hatred. Hatred towards those they sacrificed for because why did it have to be them who burned? Why do they get to be whole while I am broken? How dare they get to have light and love and happiness while I burn in the dark. Why didn't they burn with me? If they really loved me they would burn too!

Hatred towards those who seek to help them, because how dare you pity me. I chose this, I chose to burn! I knew the costs! How dare you spit in the face of my sacrifice! Did it truly mean so little to you that you would wipe away all trace of it!? Trying to heal me, trying to fix me, trying to redeem me, I did this for you! I didn't do anything wrong!

Hatred towards their corrupter, towards their damnation because everything was fine before they came along. Before they ruined everything! It's their fault for breaking it and now I'm going to make them pay for it! It doesn't matter who I hurt because nothing else matters except making sure they regret ever touching me.

Hatred towards themselves because how could someone be so stupid as to try? Love is weakness and sacrifice is for fools and those who throw themselves to the pyre deserve to burn. I'll prove it, to anyone who thinks themselves good and noble and true. Come find out.

And how could they not become resentful, to not have their love turn to hate? It's one thing to choose to burn and another to burn *forever*. A martyr is not supposed to live through the martyrdom, they're supposed to die. Their sacrifice is meant to have an end. They never got to have an end. (Though I will say, its very interesting that Zerxus chose not to die while Asmodeus seemingly *didn't*. He was dying, and the Everlight healed him. Gave him life but took peace with her.)

And the horns too! The symbol of their damnation, of corruption. But they didn’t get it that way, the horns were protection first, before anything. A testament to their love and sacrifice scarred into their flesh, on display for all to see. But that love born of protection is forgotten, both by others and themselves. Twisted into something rotten.

(No wonder Asmodeus is so good at manipulating good. He knows how good people think because that's how he thought, once. He could be so good at being good.)

They're burning. Always. They hate the fire but also, also-- they want to burn. They choose it every time because the alternative is to sacrifice the one thing they cannot, will not--their pride. They would have to be honest to do that, wouldn't they? Honest about the hurt they've caused, honest about how broken they've become. That they do not deserve their fate (that no one does), that while they were burned once they do not need to burn forever. There is always a choice. They'd have to be honest to change and they never will because the Devil sometimes tells the truth he is never honest. He can't be. He won't let himself.

[a-araiguma-a]

The Last Look

Summary: He knew that his destiny was to be a great magician, to rise above everyone, and even to surpass death, but she was someone he couldn't control, which made her dangerous, and that tormented him. Pairing: Tom Riddle x f!reader Warnings: mentioning death, drama, love/hate, enemies (?), non-reciprocal feelings, the open final, without description of appearance and name.

1942 Hogwarts lived its quiet, detached life under the weight of centuries and secret knowledge. But he, Tom Riddle, was not part of this calm; his mind, as always, was consumed by grand schemes, which did not include friends or the simple joys of youth. He reached for greatness, craved power, and sought ways to cheat death. His interest in the Dark Arts had advanced so far that he learned of Horcruxes—the darkest magic capable of splitting the soul and granting immortality. His heart burned with fire, giving him no peace, not even at night.

But there was one thing, one mystery, that distracted him from his dark deeds – "she". A girl, a classmate, who attracted his attention not by her origin, but by the cold, detached wisdom that she kept behind her thin face.

She was not charmingly beautiful, but her strength, her ability to hold a wand in battle and to understand spells, caused him something indescribable. The more he studied her, the more he was drawn to her, not as a girl, but as some kind of mystery, unsolved, arousing his interest, and perhaps fear.

Trying to convince herself that her attitude was just a mistake that would sooner or later be corrected when she saw his greatness, she would certainly recognize his superiority, but with each passing day, her detachment became unbearable for him

"Why is she so indifferent to me?" he thought, irritated by her indifference.

He was always polite to everyone, restrained, everyone noted his beauty and thirst for knowledge, he was the best. His like-minded people trembled before him and his power, saw something special in him, but she, she showed no interest or fear in him, as if he did not exist in her world. He thought that she could be his ally, a worthy companion on the path to greatness, and perhaps it was her ability to challenge him that made her so special in his eyes.

He remembered their rare clashes, her harsh, sometimes even contemptuous glances and cold words. Trying to talk to her, she only ran her eyes over it, as if there was another garbage in front of her, and returned to her previous business. It was even worse than enmity or hatred, indifference meant that she did not consider him important, made him doubt himself, that this contempt was a hint that his greatness was not as great as he himself thought

"What's wrong with her?" he wondered, looking out of the windows of the corridor that overlooked the courtyard, where he saw her sitting on a bench with her friends, "She's nothing compared to me, pure-blooded aristocrats, only blind fools, but this one... there is something in it."

He did not understand what kind of feelings he had for her: respect, admiration, or perhaps something deeper. He could have made her his ally. But even then, in his plans, he was not sure that it was a pragmatic desire.

He sought her attention, respect, but she refused him, it was important for him that those who had exceptional abilities bowed down before him, and she was worthy of him to strive for her.

Once he caught up with her in the corridors, where she was scolding some guy for ruining the painting. In some way, all these paintings attracted her, she could look at each one for hours, she communicated with some of the portraits, observed their lives, the depth of their knowledge and the memory and character of their prototypes, they always made her stop in front of them, sometimes adjusting the frames, cleaning them of dust or dirt when they could. Tom did not understand this, could it be that in her eyes he was inferior to these canvases...

"Are you punishing someone for stupid things again?" He asked, with the best smile in his arsenal.

"Do you think that's stupid, Riddle?" She turned to him, her cold gaze meeting his, and her voice was icy.

Suppressing her disdainful attitude, he continued to speak with the same smile.

"Why don't you want to work with me?" Together, we can achieve so much more.

She laughed, and this made him even angrier.

"With you?" She looked at him with a grin, "You're just a boy, Tom. Ambitious, but stupid.

His hands clenched into fists, how dare this rascal talk to him like that, he Lord Voldemort, the future greatest wizard of his time, must hear this from her.

"I'm a genius!" His voice broke into a whisper, "And you, like everyone else, are nothing!

She looked at him with interest, but without fear.

"If you are so great, why do you need me?" Her words made anger boil inside him, it was impossible to control himself.

The wand flashed in his hand, and before he knew it, he had cast a spell that he had been raving about for months. If she had voluntarily agreed, he would have felt sorry for her, but she was too stubborn, for which she paid the price, the next moment he saw her body fall on the stone slabs. The world around is frozen. He looked at her limp body, and was confident in himself and his plan - but he was wrong.

When he tried to make her his own, the magic didn't work as he intended. Her soul was stronger than he had expected, seeing her only as an object to use, part of his path to immortality, but he underestimated her, did not notice the depth that lay behind her. He only wanted to punish her for her insolence, she had to obey, to become his follower... And now it is gone.

"I killed her" - such a thought knocked in his head, but immediately supplanted by another - "No, it's her fault, she rejected me, challenged me."

Tom disappeared into the shadows, his body shaking and his heart beating nervously. He kept his men in a tight grip, not allowing them to break the school rules in public and incur the shadow of suspicion in the terrible incidents that took place at the school, but he could not restrain himself.

He only thought that no one should know about it, thinking about his actions, that he should get rid of the body, but when he returned a few hours later, she disappeared. He was seized with fear that someone had found out, preceded him, and that his life was now over, but time had passed and there was no news. Hogwarts was living its own life, but he couldn't shake the strange feeling that something was wrong. He often thought about her, but soon these thoughts turned into annoying memories.

"It's her fault for everything," he kept repeating to himself, "It's her mistake that she died, she brought trouble on herself"

But deep down he knew that losing her was his fault.

Several months had passed since that day, and the events of that night haunted him, no matter how hard he tried to get them out of his mind. He continued his research, but from time to time, when he was alone, his mind returned to her, her cold laughter, her contemptuous look, something remained unresolved for him. Why was she so indifferent? Why did she reject him? He tried to convince himself that her fate did not matter to him, that his greatness was much more important, but these thoughts did not leave him like a splinter.

In the semi-darkness of his bedroom, when everyone was asleep, he lay awake and thought, one thought seemed to slip into his head that it could simply be missed without noticing: he needed it not only as a strong ally.

If he couldn't conquer her by force or magic, then he couldn't be as great as he thought he was, so she must disappear, but by turning her into his horcrux, she really belonged to him... it's a part of himself, so why did he miss it again...?

Wandering in the dark corridors of the school in the evenings, he stopped in front of the very place where she stood in the last moments of his life, trying to understand why she had become such an important part of his thoughts, in her presence he could not control himself, she disturbed his inner harmony and caused anxiety.

Suddenly his ears caught a whisper, it seemed that the shadows of the walls were telling him something indistinct, almost calling. Feeling a strange tension at that moment, as if something or someone was watching him. He went to the nearest picture of some ancient landscape with misty mountains, looking at it, it suddenly seemed to him that a shadow flashed in the depths of the landscape, but as soon as he blinked, everything disappeared. And this tension subsided, no more whispers were heard, as if everything was an illusion of his raging mind.

Night after night he returned to this corridor, in which there were hung landscapes of nature, portraits of people who had long lived, students rarely walked along this path, but Tom did not understand what attracted him to this place so much. As time passed, he began to notice strange movements in the paintings, and the characters who had previously been animated and greeted him with nods or friendly smiles now avoided his gaze, and it was possible to notice that there was no fear or contempt in them, as if they knew something he did not know.

"She keeps walking around looking for her. But it no longer belongs to him - passing by one of the paintings, he heard their whispering. These words made him stop, turning his head in the direction where the sound was coming from, he saw a group of wizards in ancient robes depicted in the painting. One of them slowly turned to him and stared into his eyes, as if to check what he had heard.

"Who saw her?" He asked sharply, coming closer, but the figures in the painting fell silent.

The wizards went back to their conversations, ignoring his question, which made Tom even angrier, they were all nonentities like her, but something was pushing him to keep looking.

A few days later, he went to one of the oldest galleries in Hogwarts, which contained paintings with ancient magical chronicles that were rarely visited, this place had always aroused Tom's curiosity, but lately his interest had been focused on something else. As soon as he entered, it seemed to him that the air became heavier, almost tangible, all the inhabitants of the paintings turned and watched him, their insistent, invisible gaze following his every movement.

"I know you're here somewhere!" He whispered into the void, his voice echoing in the silence of the gallery. Maybe he's gone crazy and started raving about the idea that she's alive, he just can't find her. Suddenly, in one of the paintings of an empty garden, a familiar outline flashed, which made Tom tense, it was her.

"You won't hide from me," he said, squeezing his wand, ready to use it in action.

The picture slowly changed, and the garden became more and more hazy, as if the very fabric of reality inside the image was trembling, and lo and behold, her figure appeared in front of him, the one he had killed. She stood in the depths of the landscape as if she were part of a painting, her face pale but still unfailingly calm, cold as before. She looked at him with the same contempt as she had done when they had last spoken.

"You—" began Tom, but he could not find the words, his throat was dry. He felt both deceived and angry.

-What do you want? She said softly, her voice sounding from inside the picture like a distant echo, "You're looking for me, but why? You did what you wanted.

"You are mine," his voice was cold, but there was a desperate note in it, which he tried to suppress - You belong to me, you will not be able to free yourself from me.

She chuckled as if it was all some kind of joke.

-Free? She repeated, her eyes flashing with a strange fire, a new emotion she showed him, but not the one Tom wanted. Now I am part of this world. You can't take my essence away from me, no matter how hard you try.

He stepped forward, but collided with an invisible obstacle. The picture began to change, and the image of the girl began to slowly disappear into the fog, but her voice could still be distinguished.

"You can search for me as much as you like, but you will never find me. And who knows, maybe the next time you look at one of these paintings, I'll be watching you.

With these words, the painting returned to its usual state. Tom stood motionless, his fingers gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He couldn't believe that she was able to escape his power, which was impossible in his opinion, but she had always surpassed his plans, was still somewhere nearby, a part of her was here within these walls, she hadn't disappeared, but had become something else. Part of his mind knew that she had caused his plans to go wrong. Standing in front of the painting for a long time, staring into the void, he felt his rage growing inside. How dare she? How could she turn his victory into defeat?

As he left the gallery that night, he made a decision, sooner or later, to find a way to regain the control he had lost, to regain her, but deep down, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, he was tormented by the realization that he had lost her forever.

Afterward, Riddle delved into his research, traveling through the archives of the library and immersing himself in forbidden books, but despite the knowledge that he collected bit by bit, the thought that she was hiding somewhere among the canvases and shadows, feeling her presence, the cold gaze that followed him, disturbed him, but most of all, the fact that she was incomprehensibly close and at the same time unreachable.

But something gnawed at him, his thoughts wandered around the same question at night: how she managed to hide in the paintings, what she had done in the time he had escaped.

When his patience ran out, he decided to take a desperate step, getting ready at night, he went to the west wing. Having once heard that in the depths of the castle were hidden the oldest paintings, which hid magical secrets, which many did not know about, but only the person depicted in one of them, could shed light on what was happening. No one remembers his name, and who he was, he was called only as the "Keeper of Secrets", but you can only meet him at night.

When Tom came to the place, the corridor was quiet and empty. The dim light of the torches cast trembling shadows on the walls. At the end of the corridor was a large painting, once with a golden frame, now it was only a canvas covered with dust and cracks, on which stood a wizard in a black robe with a hood pulled down deep.

"You've come for the answers," the mage said, without raising his head. His voice was low and booming, as if the darkness itself was speaking through him.

"You know what happened to one of the inhabitants of these paintings," Tom said coldly, trying to hide his impatience.

The figure slowly raised its head, eyes flashing from under the hood, deep as an abyss.

"You made a mistake, Tom Riddle," he said, "Your sacrifice has not just become your Horcrux, it has acquired a new essence, one that is beyond your control. You have created something that you yourself did not fully understand.

Tom clenched his fists, feeling impatient and angry.

- She's mine," he hissed, taking a step forward, "I've divided my soul, she's a part of me.

"That would have been true," the mage continued, his voice echoing through the corridor, "if it hadn't been stronger. The creation of a horcrux is an act of the deepest violence against nature and the soul itself. And the soul is not just an energy that you can tear out and share, it is much more complex, related to the personality, consciousness, and history of a person. You submit to death and try to deceive it, but it... She had already escaped it. Her soul is enclosed in the canvas, but she has found a freedom that you can never know.

Tom felt a chill tighten in his chest. He had never had to face such impotence. His dark magic was supposed to provide answers, but instead it raised even more questions.

-Where is she? He said through clenched teeth.

The Magus in the painting slowly raised his hand and pointed to the image next to him.

- It's everywhere. And nowhere. She has become part of a world that does not belong to you.

Tom's anger turned to rage, how could a witch who seemed to be nothing outwit him? He turned abruptly and walked out of the gallery, his robe fluttering behind him in the air like a dark cloud, but even as he walked, he could still hear the whispering.

- She's watching you, Tom Riddle.

From that night on, he felt her almost physically, every time he walked past the paintings, it seemed to him that she was looking at him, studying... Even on the reflected surfaces, with his peripheral vision, he saw her, but as soon as he turned his head, there was nothing, he no longer knew where reality was, and where his sick imagination played out, put her silhouettes on him.

When he came back to the place of her death, he looked at the empty garden depicted, but now instead of calm, anxiety reigned in it. Tom could feel her coming.

"You're here," he whispered, his voice quiet but firm, "Talk to me."

At that moment, the picture stirred, the garden began to change, darken, as if night had descended on the landscape. She appeared out of the mist, almost ghostly, but so familiar. Approaching the edge of the painting, I looked directly at him.

"Why do you keep looking for me?" Her voice was quiet, but there was something strange and imperceptible about it, "You got what you wanted.

"I didn't get anything," he said sharply, "You can't hide from me. You're part of me. My Horcrux.

She chuckled, but this time her laughter was sad.

"You still don't understand," she said, "I don't belong to you anymore. Yes, you tore your soul apart, but I'm not part of your world. I have found a new path, where you can never reach me.

Tom frowned, he couldn't let her slip away so easily.

"You won't be able to hide from me forever," his voice was full of rage, "I'll find a way to get you back.

"Maybe," she replied quietly, her image beginning to fade into the mist, "But perhaps in the end you will find that you will never again be able to possess what you have lost.

She left him again in the empty, cold corridor, where only the shadows seemed alive. For the first time, he felt an emptiness within himself that no amount of magic could fill.

She... she... she loved Hogwarts, she was drawn to its ancient walls, filled with the echoes of centuries and the magic that emanated from literally every stone. But most of all, she was fascinated by the paintings at every step. Hours could pass while she studied every detail on the canvas, forgetting everything in the world. For her, it was like a quiet ritual, none of the students noticed it, and she found a kind of calm in it - as if she herself was part of these old walls.

She always considered herself one of those who did not need excessive attention. She knew that she stood apart among her peers, witty, cold-blooded, confident in herself and her abilities. Her rare friends respected her for her intelligence and abilities, but none of them could fully understand her depth. Especially him. Tom Riddle.

From the very first day she knew about him, everyone talked about his genius, determination, many admired it, someone feared. But not her. She didn't think he was anything outstanding, yes, he was smart, but she saw emptiness behind his ambitions. He had no real desire for knowledge, only a thirst for power. Perhaps that was why he paid attention to her, because she was the only one who did not seek his approval.

Their intersection was inevitable, he always found a reason to talk to her, as if he was trying to test her, he wanted her attention, he wanted her to recognize his superiority, but she answered meekly and coldly, showing no interest. She didn't need him.

However, to her disappointment, every day the indifferent attitude only increased his interest. She saw him staring at her from afar, watching her, thinking she wasn't noticing. His presence was palpable, he wanted something from her, but she couldn't understand what. He seemed absorbed in his grand plans, but at the same time he was like a wolf creeping up on his prey, waiting for the moment to attack.

The moment came when she was scolding the boy who had damaged one of the paintings, an old portrait of an old wizard who was especially dear to her. The boy looked at her with fright as she explained to him how art should be respected. And then he appeared, cold eyes looking at her, and she knew at once that he was up to something. His steps were confident, and his face was not wearing the usual mask, something had changed in him.

- Why are you always like this... cold? He asked, coming too close.

"I don't have to be warm to people like you," she replied, barely turning to him. She knew he was annoyed, his whole image was built on people trembling before him, and her indifference unsettled him.

"You could work with me," his voice was low, almost in a whisper, "Together we could achieve much more.

She laughed. His offer seemed absurd, to work with him? He was blind, though clever. All he wanted was power, but power had no meaning without understanding, he didn't see the depth of magic, he didn't feel it the way it did.

"With you?" Her laughter lit a fire in his eyes, "You're just a boy playing with ambition. You think you're better than others, but in the end, you're just stupid.

His face twisted instantly with anger as he pulled out his wand, and for a moment she was pierced by a premonition of trouble, but she remained calm, believing that he would not dare.

Dare.

Before she could realize what was happening, he cast a spell. It wasn't instantaneous, as she thought, on the contrary, time seemed to stand still. She felt her body begin to collapse from the inside. At first, it was like a slight tingling in her fingers, gradually turning into something deeper, more painful, as if her vitality was slowly draining away, drop by drop, turning into emptiness. The heat inside her was replaced by an icy chill that gripped her heart, lungs, and consciousness.

This process was unbearable. She couldn't breathe, but her mind was still clinging to the last scraps of consciousness, desperately trying to understand what was happening to her. She couldn't move anymore, she couldn't speak, but in the back of her mind, she still felt alive. And this feeling was the most frightening – a slow fading, the realization that death was not quick and merciful.

Her gaze, once sharp and full of challenge, gradually became glassy, motionless, but her thoughts continued to struggle. She wanted to scream, but the air no longer passed through her lips. All she could hear was the hum of her own pulse in her ears, which slowed down until it died down completely.

At the moment when everything should have gone out, she noticed something strange. Through the mist before her eyes, she saw something thin, almost imperceptible, a thread, barely discernible, luminous, that connected her to something beyond her comprehension. She couldn't comprehend what it was, but her soul followed her. She could no longer distinguish anything, the picture froze in her eyes, which began to change, what used to be a static scene trembled, as if the colors began to shimmer coming to life, and in the distance, in this picture, she saw... themselves. The image became clearer and more saturated, as if she were part of this landscape.

But as long as her body remained lifeless, true magic was happening beyond her consciousness. Hogwarts was not just a castle, over the centuries of its existence, its walls had accumulated unimaginable power, ancient and mysterious. Streams of magic flowed through his corridors, in every stone, in every secret nook and cranny, he was alive, intelligent.

There was a legend among those who lived within its walls for a long time: Hogwarts protects its own people, those who understand and respect it can find in it more than just knowledge. When Riddle's spell struck her, something in the castle responded to this act of violence, awakening the entity that lurked in the shadows.

Her soul couldn't just leave like an ordinary mortal, she wouldn't be allowed to dissolve into nothingness. Her connection to paintings, her love for them, and her respect for their magic made her unique. The thread she saw was not illusory, it was some form of magical energy woven from the very essence of Hogwarts, which connected her soul to one of the paintings. Every time she touched the canvases, adjusted the frames, cleaned them, she unwittingly created a magical connection between herself and the world living beyond the image.

The inhabitants of these paintings, the wizards depicted in them, not only preserved the memory of their prototypes, they were parts of Hogwarts itself, absorbed magic and became its guardians. As she lay on the floor, losing her life force, the paintings seemed to come to life, activating the magical power contained within them, and the thread was not just a symbol of her connection, but a magical law that only worked under exceptional circumstances, preserving her soul. The castle itself saved her, taking her for himself, giving her a new home and taking her as her own. It was both liberation and a new birth.

The laws of magic were not written down in books, they were outdated rules that only applied in situations where the very fabric of magic was broken. Caught between life and death, her soul was wounded, now she was safe, magic hiding her within its borders, in the worlds hidden behind the canvases.

The thin thread finally broke, and she fell into the blackness.

A few minutes passed or an eternity... When everything returned, she felt light, almost weightless. Surrounded by darkness, she gradually realized that she was no longer in her body, and that she was locked in, but where? A hazy landscape opened up to her eyes. She found herself inside one of the paintings, at first she was seized with horror, but then she realized that she had been saved from oblivion when Riddle destroyed her.

She stood on the other side of reality, watching her lifeless body lie on the cold stone floor of the Hogwarts corridor. She no longer belonged to this world, but her mind was still connected to it.

Now that her consciousness had sunk into the misty, ethereal world of the painting, she had become one of its inhabitants—one who did not obey the laws of time, who lived on the edge of worlds, observing reality but not participating in it. She was different from the others.

While they were mere reflections of their former selves, trapped within magical frames, endlessly repeating scenes from the past, they existed in relative peace, occasionally interacting with external viewers, but their existence was linear and predictable.

She, however, remained alive; her existence here was not merely a continuation of life or a preservation of memory. It was something more significant, darker, and with each passing day, as she became more aware of her nature, a voice in her head echoed her realization. Horcrux. She was a vessel containing a part of his dark soul.

Something alien pulsed within her, a force imposed from the outside. His dark, twisted magic bound them in an unbreakable link. She could not see, but she felt that her existence was intertwined with his fate. His soul was like a shadow over her shoulder—always present but not controlling her. His magic could not fully subjugate her, turning her into part of the Horcrux, but not in the way he had intended. Instead, it made them interdependent. And although she now lived within the world of the paintings, she had not lost herself. It was neither liberation nor complete imprisonment.

Time flowed differently here; days melded into weeks, weeks into months, and she no longer knew how much time had passed. All the while, she watched Riddle from afar, just as he once did. He seemed to sense her, trying to find her, but could not. His magic, his Horcrux—it was powerless against the life hidden within the canvases.

She could see his despair and fury as she floated past him. Now she belonged to a world that did not obey his laws. And every time she saw him, a smile slowly spread across her face. He would never again be able to claim her. Now she belonged to Hogwarts, to its walls and its paintings.

[tigermousse]

Particles of reality: Obsession

genre: dark, yandere, otome, crime, supernatural, NSFW

Not all stories have happy endings…especially this one.

I have a feeling this visual novel has done some permanent damage to my mental health, but I'm not regretting reading it.

!Please note: This game is for mature audience only!

Particles of reality: obsession is dealing with very dark themes including gore, extreme violence, torture, sexual and mental abuse. It has graphic depiction of consensual and un-consensual sex (including sex between minors and sex between siblings). List of triggers for each path is enormous and it was pretty hard to read through some paths. There are options to hide some content, but even with "lower violence" filter it was gruesome enough. Like Monika, I hate the violence, but I was too interested in characters to skip everything.

Monica is studying medicine in college and working at the cafe Luna to pay her bills. She has two close friends and a bunch of phobias, since she is a traumatized young woman with a troubled past. Monika hoped to separate from her family by enrolling to a college. But now she's stuck on a dead-end job, feeling claustrophobic in a small crappy apartment, also failing her studies and doubting her choice to be a doctor.

This is the time when in her life appears a tall handsome man, who has a strange interest in her. But the story unraveled…

Particles of Reality is a macabre satire on dark romance, where relationship with violent people are romanticized, - and otome games, in which every character falls in love with a MC no matter how plain, or dull she is.

It is a splendid idea to show in visual novel that relationship with obsessive people can only cause you pain, but still overall it was a depressing experience for me. I can not recommend this game, but it has a highest rating from me, because it is unique and memorable. All the characters are either traumatized or just pleasurably insane.

You are warned from the beginning that there are no happy endings in this novel. In those few where main characters at least don't die, Monica is still can not be happy because she's feeling trapped.

It makes sense, because it shows that with the characters like these, who are obsessed (and sometimes possessed), there can be no happy ending. They're traumatized, violent and mentally unstable. It is said that in Obsession the characters are the worst possible versions of themselves.

After a while it is getting too frustrating that no matter what you do the game finds its way to punish you. The characters are making very stupid mistakes and decisions - and you can do nothing about it but watch. Also sometimes the game is forcing you to read a lot of information that you already learn from other routes. I can see why it was hard to avoid, but still it was too much unnecessary reading.

The structure of visual novel is unique - it has additional unlockable content for each character that helps to look further in their past or shows their point of view on the story. At some points the story is breaking the forth wall.

Nice touch that choices that doesn't affect the ending, are clearly marked.

Still after reading everything including the secret character routes, the story still has more questions then answers - and feels incomplete. The secret route was more confusing then revealing.

CHARACTERS

MC Monika Viotto (name changeable, but I don't see why someone would like to relate to this MC more, so I left it as it is)

My diagnosis: Post-traumatic stress disorder + Dependent personality disorder

For me, Monika is a bit annoying. She's is your our typical otome MC - she is kind, shy, not very smart with average looks (though I think that she looks pretty cute). Because she was abused and neglected at home since childhood, Monika developed some phobias like nyctophobia and claustrophobia.

She says that she hates violence, but in each route she's attracted to violent people - probably that is the route of all the problems. In some paths she even shows a violent streak that she probably has (probably that is why she resents violence - because she knows she can have it in her too). Her family is mafia and though she wants to get away from them so bad, the violence in her household probably couldn't left her intact. However usually Monika is absolutely oblivious to everything happening around her. Sometimes she can stand for herself, but these moments of clarity happen usually too late.

Who she is now is a result of her traumatized past, but also we can see that she's really passive and co-dependent since young age. She can't decide for herself (and when she is, she's deciding badly), she's not trying to learn something new, she doesn't understand her feelings and is not good with people. She's not good with anything really. Though she doesn't lack empathy and sincerely grieving loss of those who are close to her.

Sometimes she can be funny and snappy, but not often. She is more self-assured and interesting in some "what if" scenarios and in some branches in Brandon's route.

Love interests (SPOILER ALERT)

Which one do you have in mind?

None of the characters are mentally healthy. Some are aware of this fact, the others aren't. There is almost no romance, except maybe for the Sebastian route (which is my least favorite). There are some sex scenes though.

Each route starts differently and has slight time difference, but except for the Brandon's route, the circumstances in these are very similar.

Sebastian Dallarosa

My diagnosis: Narcissistic personality disorder (?) Also typical yandere

Sebastian is tall, rich and handsome. Probably smart too. He's meeting MC on the street, saving her life from a car accident, and then taking care for her when she is getting sick. But something is not right about him. Or is it?

He's in love with MC since they were children. It was love at first sight, and now he believes that Monika is his soulmate - and he wants her no matter what.

Dallarosa is a mafia family too, like Viotto, but several years ago Sebastian and his twin brother refused to take over the family business - and it seems that Sebastian put all his effort to get Monika Viotto, because it is the only thing that he wanted - ever.

Sebastian is probably the favorite character of the developer, because his route is longest, plus he's appearing in every other route and in most branches. He has the most CG's. And I really hate him. Either because he's triggering something from my past, or because he is so sure of himself. He is the only one with almost no regrets or remorse. He thinks that his "love" justifies everything he's doing. I hate how he doesn't give Monika a chance to decide for herself, how much he's suffocating her, how he manipulates her. He doesn't care at all what she thinks, for he has her image in his head for a long time, and he doesn't care what Monika is like for real. He shows in all the routes, and in each one he's madly in love with Monika.

When you start the game, Sebastian's route is the first you have to finish at least once, and for some time his route is pretty romantic. He says nice things to MC, dotting around her, telling her what she would like to hear. But when things unravel, he shows his true violent and/or manipulative self.

The best part of Sebastian's route was Alexander. He seems much more sane (Maybe that is because he doesn't has his own route yet)

Julian Andrei

My diagnosis: Dissociative identity disorder

Julian is working with Monika in a Cafe Luna. He seems rude at first, but otherwise he is funny and always ready to help a damsel in distress. Except he has a strange habit of vanishing for several days once a month. What does he hides?

In Julian's route Monika has a crush on him when they first meet, and in other routes it is other way around. Julian in his route is the most different from himself in other routes, except Brandon's DLC. Because in most routes he is just a friend and co-worker of Monika, and doesn't show his violent streak, also he's pretty weak and can't stand himself against other characters. However we know from his route that he should be experienced in killing people, so it is strange that he's always trying to rescue MC unprepared. (I guess it is one of frustrating features which lead MC to unavoidable bad ends).

Julian is in constant conflict with himself - because he has a split personality, which seems to have a mind of its own.

As for the core personality, and not the worst version of himself, I like Julian very much. He is funny, honest and noble in his own way - and trying to do his best. I don't mind his complaining and self-consciousness.

Quinn Deidre

My diagnosis: Borderline personality disorder

Quinn is gender-fluid non-binary person. And also they are the most normal character. They are a ball of sunshine. Funny, active, kind, caring, creative. But they're trying too hard to get attention that they are forgetting what is good for themselves. Quinn definitely have BPD, and it is pretty accurate portrait of this disorder. Given their traumatic past, it is not strange that Quinn has it. Their family is fundamentally religious and they always felt that they don't belong at home. So they're looking hard for the place where they belong.

Meeting Monika as a roommate, Quinn is falling in love with her non-judgemental attitude. But of course, they can't stand to her other suitors. (Brandon strangely accepts Quinn)

Quinn is really sweet. His bad ends are pretty sad, because they mostly end with him hurting himself.

Brandon Viotto (free DLC)

My diagnosis: Antisocial personality disorder (Psychopath)

Due to the themes of incest and underage sex (also extreme violence, but Steam is OK with it), Brandon's route is not accessible in the base game and can be downloaded as a free DLC (optionaly, because for some people this route can be too fucked up.)

Brandon's route is a history route: it begins when Monika was five, and all events in all branches are happening earlier than the beginning of Sebastian's, Julian's or Quinn's routes. You don't need to read through this route to finish the game and open secret character, but it is giving better view of Monika's personality in other routes, also after reading it, I hated Sebastian a tiny bit less.

Brandon is Monika's older brother. He's just a year older than she, but since the early childhood they were raised differently. Brandon was the favorite child, Mama's golden boy, he was given best teachers and was combat training to become the head of the family (Don). And Monika was neglected, harshly punished for all tiny mistakes, given little to no education. Most of the time their parents didn't pay any attention to her at all. Luciana Viotto is a powerful, cunning and cruel woman, and Antonio Viotto seems totally indifferent to everything that is happening in his family, until it becomes too late.

Things doesn't add up here - while Monika as a mafia princess was prepared to arranged marriage if nothing else, she probably had at least attend different social events to meet important people, but she didn't. Otherwise she would be just a disgrace of a mafia family (which she obviously become, when she went to a college, living in a worst district of a town and working for a minimal wedge)

Since tender age Brandon was trained to be a merciless killer. And while his first kills brought him tears and nightmares, later he started to enjoy killing and torturing people. Now he is hungry for power and control. And the only one he cares about is his sister. Monika.

Since they were children, Brandon always tried to defend Monika from their abusive mother. They grew very close, because they always had to depend onto each other and didn't have anyone else. Monika needed Brandon because he always came to her rescue and Brandon need his sister, because she appeals to what left of human in him. She is still his moral compass after years of killings.

When he was about 15 year of age, Brandon felt that he his feeling for Monika is not completely brotherly.

After some time of his doubts and regrets, they've became lovers, when Monika was still 14 y.o. They both knew that incest is wrong, depending on the branch, they're having more or less doubts about it.

In most scenarios revealed that when Monika was 16, she attended school, where she has met a boy and started dating him. But Brandon was furious and beat the guy so bad that he couldn't recover. Monica hasn't talked to Brandon since then, until she decided to go to college where she begins all other routes.

Brandon is the one who sees the best in Monika

I do not justify the incest, I've never understood it either. But given all the circumstances in this novel I think in Particles of Reality, Brandon is still the best choice for Monika. Maybe I'm prejudiced, because despite of everything , I liked him too much since demo. He's the only one who will never hurt her willingly, she can trust him completely and he's the one who accepts and understands her as she is.

The thing I like about Brandon the most is that he is the only one whose personality doesn't change a bit in all the routes and branches. I'm afraid that is because he's the least favorite boy for the developer, but still he doesn't pretend. Also he's the only one who is changing through his route - for worse, but still.

He is extremely violent, and doesn't hide that he is enjoying killing people, but it seems that he can have his doubts and regrets about everything that concerning Monika. (Nevertheless he still thought and done disgusting things)

He is also very smart, with a dark sense of humor, but I always felt that Monika can depend on him. With him she is safe, but he can go too far to secure her.

I can't rate any of the characters, since they're shown as the worst versions of themselves. As for their "core personality", I like Sebastian the least, because I can't find any of his personality outside of his obsession. As for secret character, his purpose in this novel seems only for breaking forth wall, so it is hard to say something about him for now.

Overall:

Visual: 4/5

Story: 4/5

Characters: 5/5

Romance: 2/5

Originality: 5/5

My Rating: 5/5

(I can't recommend it to anyone, since it is very dark and not for everyone, but also couldn't give it less than 5 stars, because I'm sure that this game has a powerful impact on every person who has read it)

You can get this visual novel by Arewar on Steam or on itch.io

[natasha-in-space]

Safe and Sound

GE!Saeran/gn!reader:

Saeran's love for you was unconditional, just like the promise of happiness you've made to each other in the blooming garden of discord. However, learning to accept that kind of love was not as easy as you thought it would be. While, undeniably, some days were bright and happy... on days like this one, you couldn't help but struggle with your insecurities concerning your relationship.

TW for: feelings of severe insecurity, low self-esteem, depressive thoughts.

There was no doubt in your heart regarding Saeran's feelings for you. No, his love for you was undeniable and unwavering in its affection, even as the warm summer sun would inevitably flow into cold autumn winds and merciless winter storms. After all, after even the harshest of winter comes the comforting warmth of Spring. Such is the rule of all four seasons. And, each new passing season that you've spent by each other's side would only lead to new happy memories for you to look back on and smile as you flip through Saeran's diary whenever he wanted to share his new colorful scribbles with you. The promise of happiness that you two have made to each other all those years ago never faded away with time: it only grew stronger with the soil you've provided through your shared love and patience toward one another even in the darkest of times. Much like nourishing a flower, your love was growing and changing with time.

But... it wasn't Saeran's love that bothered you so much that you barely left the bed throughout the day. The source of your distress was a much more complicated enemy to beat since it was your own mind trying its damnest to make your life as miserable as possible. Some days were better than others. In fact, there were even some days when you felt like you were truly happy: like you could finally see the world for what it truly is, instead of focusing solely on depressing things that would only bring you down. And some days felt like you were living a nightmare. So, like the aftermath of any nightmare, all you could really do was hide yourself away inside of your comfy bed, tucked away in a bundle of blankets and pillows, and hope that it would all pass you soon enough.

You made an effort to shut out and ignore the insecurities and doubts that buzzed inside your head like a swarm of angry wasps, and were determined to destroy the enemy that dares to oppose them. Why did your own brain view its rightful owner as a foe to be tortured like this, you had no idea. But, you had no choice but to deal with it one way or another. Not like you could turn off your own thoughts, even if you wanted to.

It's possible that lying to Saeran was a bad idea rather than relying on him for support during this challenging time. No, it was definitely a bad idea for you to isolate yourself like this, but you did it anyway. You were slowly learning to accept your own shortcomings, to stop punishing yourself for messing up every once in a while, but... today, it seems like all you could do was make one stupid mistake after another. So, you refused to reach out for help, your own isolation serving as a twisted form of self-punishment you were inflicting onto yourself for being so weak-minded. It wasn't healthy, and it wasn't helping you in the slightest.

As you lay there, listening to the clock tick by, you slowly but surely fell into the self-doubt pit that you knew all too well. It was no surprise to you to find Saeran in the center of it all. You hated your mind for twisting the truth like that. However hard you tried to fight it, eventually, you were simply in too deep to get out. These hateful thoughts of yours were like a swamp full of thick tar that would never let you leave unscathed, once you were unlucky enough to fall in. Picking apart every kind word he ever said to you, trying to expose the lies that weren't even there to begin with, convincing yourself that he was just confused... It was painful. You didn't want to do that. You didn't want to do that to Saeran and you didn't want to do that to yourself, either. But, you couldn't help but question this newfound happiness you've found with him by your side.

Did you really... deserve someone as warm and loving as Saeran in your life? Maybe he would have been better off without you and your depressive episodes. After all, he wanted to see the world, to be happy and free... and you were only holding him back from achieving that. What is he getting out of babying you, as if you weren't a full-functioning adult who should be able to take care of themselves just fine? Sure, maybe you did help him sometimes... but, it was all overshadowed by your worst days that he had to withstand by your side.

As you immerse yourself further in the messy blankets, you shut your eyes tightly, helplessly hoping that this pathetic attempt to hide from your cruel thoughts would finally be successful. You hated being confined to your own bed like this, but you hated the idea of getting up even more. On days like these, you tended to avoid looking at yourself in the mirror or... looking at yourself overall, really. Your choices weren't ideal, but you'd much rather spend your day hating your character, rather than your body. So, burying yourself into the blankets up to your nose until you couldn't see much of yourself was the only option that worked best.

It felt like every single thing about you was wrong, both in and out.

But, Saeran viewed you differently. You were his love, his angel, and his promise of happiness. And, even despite your worst traits being at play here, just the thought of his tender smile and soft voice made your chest ache in a much different way than before. You missed him. It felt so silly. You isolated yourself like this on purpose, but here you were, already desperately hoping for him to come in and chase all of your demons away with his warm touch like he always did.

So, so stupid...

As you were about to shed a few tears, the bedroom door swung open, causing you to almost fall out of your bed from shock. Maybe getting so tangled up inside of your blankets wasn't as functional as you initially thought after all. Either way, you were way too embarrassed to show your face, since you didn't have to guess on the identity of this bold intruder of yours. There was only one person in the entire world who could come barging in into your room like this whenever you were having a hard time. Knowing full well how stupid you were behaving, you hid your head under the blanket regardless, staying quiet as the soft pitter-patter of footsteps hurriedly moved closer and closer to you.

Well, 'be careful what you wish for', as they say. Still, if you said you weren't happy to see Saeran close by, you'd be lying. Just knowing he was right there was enough to dull your negative thoughts, albeit slightly. If it wasn't for your inner shame for hiding yourself away from him like this, you would have already nuzzled up close to his chest, seeking the comfort that his closeness would bring you. But... truth is, you felt guilty.

You made a promise to each other that you wouldn't lie about things like that. That you would trust each other to lend a helping hand whenever one of you needed it. And yet, you did exactly the opposite of that. You knew Saeran wouldn't get upset with you for this, but that did not take away your own shame on the matter. Maybe you were being way too harsh on yourself for something terribly small, but you didn't care. It didn't feel right to throw yourself at him for comfort when you were the one who let things get this bad in the first place. It felt fairly selfish even.

You could hear a slight shaky breath from him as he carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, the warm sensation of his palm touching the top of your head that was hidden beneath the blanket making you shiver. Really, you felt even more silly for tearing up at something so insignificant. It wasn't like you to be such a huge crybaby over a small thing like that. It's not like his kindness is something new to you... so why is your chest aching this much?

Caressing your head, Saeran was the first to break the silence between you, not a single hint of anger or disappointment present in his soft voice. "I knew something was wrong... My love, why didn't you tell me?"

You bit your lip, feeling your tears slowly forming an ugly, damp spot on the pillow that you buried your face in. "I told you I was just tired... How did you even know something was wrong? I thought you wanted to plant those tulips you showed me today."

Idiot, what are you saying-?

"I had a feeling that you needed me, and I couldn't stay still, so I rushed to check on you. I'm happy I didn't ignore this bad feeling of mine. I'd hate to know you were suffering all alone like this."

"That sounds like you, haha." You chuckled softly, imagining him dropping everything to run straight to you. It was such a strange phenomenon, this special connection of yours. While you'd like to say you were annoyed by it, it really wasn't true at all. Somehow, by some weird force of nature, you just knew whenever one of you needed someone by their side. It is how you found him by the lake right before his father could do the unthinkable, against all odds stacked against you. And, it's really no surprise to you that it worked in the opposite direction just as much. Truly, it was such a bizarre thing.

But... did you deserve to share such a special connection with someone? This all felt... too good to be true. Too good for someone so dark and bland like you. If you told Saeran this, he wouldn't take it seriously. You didn't know who was right between the two of you. It's hard to figure out the truth when your brain is playing all kinds of cruel tricks to keep you distressed and anxious at all times of the day. And, try as you might to shut out all your emotions in favor of staying rational... It didn't work all the time.

Well... no reason to hold back now. Saeran was already aware that something was wrong, and he would remain by your side until he was confident that you were fine. And, it's not like you wanted him to leave anyway. Call it weakness or clinginess on your part, but you couldn't possibly let go of him now that he was right there for you hold onto.

"I just... I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm fine, you're fine, and everyone else is fine. So... I should be happy, right? I should be bright and cheerful, exploring the world with you. But I... can't. I have no reason to feel so horrible and disgusting, but I still do. And I can't do anything about it! I don't... I don't want to hold you back from your happiness just because I can't even function properly, so... I decided that I should just wait it out on my own this time around. But, heh, as you can see, I can't even do that right." Bitter laughter left your lips in a suffocating burst, being accompanied by a series of hiccups and a new wave of tears now streaming freely down your cheeks. You were glad he couldn't see your face right now. You probably looked really gross, considering that you didn't even leave your bed to freshen up or brush your teeth today. God, you were such a mess. "I don't know what I did to deserve someone so kind and patient like you, but I... I feel like I'm just using you to feel better about myself, and I hate it. I shouldn't be crying like this over nothing and making you pity me. Not when I'm the only one who's at fault here. I don't want to feel like this, Saeran. I... I hate feeling like this. I want to be normal and just- Live my life peacefully. With you. But- But why can't I stop thinking all of these bad things? It's driving me crazy..."

After you released all of this negativity into cohesive words, instead of holding it in until it swallowed you whole, you felt relieved. But, another part of you felt guilty for burdening Saeran with all this pessimistic talk like this. You didn't need to look at him to know that he had a deeply troubled expression on his delicate face. Either way, you didn't try to push him away or deflect what you just said. There was no reason to. His hand momentarily stopped its movement, and you swallowed, feeling the bedsheets shift ever so slightly, as he hunched over you.

The next time he spoke, his voice sounded much closer, making your heart inadvertently skip a beat. "Can I... Can I see you, Y/N? Please. If you don't want to, that's okay, but... you need some fresh air to help you breathe better."

Pursing your lips together, you nodded, clutching the pillow to your chest. You didn't resist as he carefully found his way around the blanket that was wrapped so tightly all around you, you wondered how you even got this tangled up in it in the first place. Finally, after a few awkward movements of your numb limbs, you could feel the weight slipping off of you and fresh air rushing into your lungs.

Wow. He was right. It was definitely way too stuffy in there for you.

Saeran didn't hurry you to get up, but instead sat beside you quietly and gently caressed your back without saying a word while you cried into your pillow. You knew he wanted to say something. The only reason he was so silent is to avoid overwhelming you with his words. As always, he was way too patient with a crumpled mess like you. Either way, his tenderness did motivate you to eventually lift your head up from your scrunched up pillow, sniffling and wiping away at your damp cheeks.

"Do you feel better, my love?" He quietly asked, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. There was nothing but worry in his bright mint eyes.

Your voice was too shakey for your liking from crying, so you nodded again and leant into his warm touch. You did indeed feel better after getting all of this negativity off your chest, as well as getting some fresh air for you to breathe. But... of course, this didn't mean you were feeling okay in any way. You still felt embarrassed and upset about this whole breakdown, and these heavy feelings wouldn't just disappear any time soon.

Saeran gave you a small smile and now fully cupped your cheek, but he didn't go any further than that. So respectful, as always. He sounded so calm and composed amidst your raging emotions that you automatically hang onto his every word, like he was your lifeline. In a way, he truly was. "Good. I'm sure it was painful to keep everything bottled up like that... Do you want us to talk about these feelings you're dealing with right now?"

"I think... I might be too tired for that. But... We can talk about this tomorrow morning. Maybe." You mumbled awkwardly, feeling a bit self-conscious about the prospect of discussing this incident any time soon. Saeran was right, though. You two needed to talk about it, or things would only get worse, not just for you, but for him as well. It was unusual. Accepting someone's love and care like that, as well as being so open with your inner struggles. But, you did want to try. If not for yourself, then for Saeran.

Sniffling the last of your tears away, you did your best to keep your focus on the young man beside you instead of any insecurities still buzzing around inside of your head. "And... I'm sorry. For not telling you anything right away. I should've-"

Before you could finish your thought, he gently kissed your forehead and now his other hand was also cupping your other cheek. All you could do was gasp, feeling your heart pick up the pace from such a lovely gesture. Leaning back, he rested his forehead against your own, steering all of your attention back onto him and him alone. You could see how much he wanted to say: it was all written so clearly on his features in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

"There's nothing to apologize for, flower. I know you're not ready for us to talk about this now, but... It's okay to not be okay sometimes. My love for you does not require you to be someone else or do anything you don't want to do. We can figure it out. Not because we have to, but because we want to. I love you as you are, just like you love me as I am. I know it can be hard to believe in that sometimes, especially when all love you've experienced before was conditional... But, we can take it at one step at a time. Together. We have all the time in the world now to love each other and ourselves as we are. And, I'll be by your side on every step of this journey, holding onto your hand tightly whenever you need me. That's what we promised to each other, right?"

You had faith in him in your heart. He wasn’t saying this out of mere pity or any sense of obligation to you... No, those were his earnest thoughts and feelings he decided to share with you on his own accord. It was okay to mess up sometimes, and it was okay to have bad days. Saeran had his low moments just as much as you did, you knew that fact all too well. You never judged him for that. You never judged anyone out of the RFA for having bad days of their own. So, why should he do that to you?

Maybe... you let your inner demons get the better of you today. It's not a good idea to punish yourself for that, though. After all... the thought of you being a burden unworthy of love wasn't planted into your head on its own. It was simply easier to justify the hurt you were given by believing that you deserved it, even if it didn't make any sense in hindsight. It was hard to accept that all the bad things you had to endure happened without any grand reason to them. It didn't feel fair.

"...Thank you. I was in great need of hearing something that." You acknowledged, letting out some of the tension that was still in your system with a deep sigh. It wasn't easy. Some part of you still protested and squirmed deep within your mind: demanding to be heard, urging you to throw away his hopeful reassurance and interpret it as nothing but a lie. But, you did your best to ignore it. Thankfully, now Saeran was right here to hold you in his arms, and he was a hundred times better than even your most favorite blanket.

He appeared to appreciate your response, his smile widening ever so slightly before ultimately pulling away. Although, it wasn't long before his hands took hold of your shaky palms, his fingers interlocking with yours in such a simple, yet lovely way. "I'm happy I could help, my love. Now... why don't I help you take a warm bath? I'm sure you feel exhausted. And, it'll be good for you to eat something."

"That would be lovely, Saeran." You said, slowly but surely gaining some of your former confidence back.

Maybe you'll never get the picture-perfect happy ending you've envisioned for yourself in your daydreams. Maybe you'll never be that ideal version of yourself you were striving so hard to be. Maybe you'll never know for sure whether or not you were on the right path in life at all. But, perhaps, your reality didn't have to be ideal for you to find solace in it. This moment in time wasn't perfect or pretty at all, not from a traditional standpoint. And yet, your chest swelled with a warm, ticklish sensation as you sat on the edge of the bathtub, waiting for the water to fill the space and listening to Saeran talk about his day.

Maybe, you didn't need to be perfect to find solace in the little things life offered you, even in the darkest of times.

Even though you had heavy limbs, burning eyes, and a pounding headache to deal with, you found peace, a tired smile slowly appeared on your face. The feeling of Saeran's hands in yours, the sound of his voice, the view of his warm eyes gazing into yours with nothing but care and affection swimming within them... It all felt so imperfectly soothing to you.

[jaylikesrainbowtigers]

My entry for day 3 of @fallofneilhargrove. The prompt was Public Scorn and Don’t make enemies of the local knitting club.

Tw: abuse, abuser point of view, arrest, jail and swears

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Neil Hargrove was having pretty fucking good day. He had been to work, had Susan cook him a proper meal and had sat down to watch football. Like a proper man does.

Sure, things had gotten a bit sticky when attempting to get Billy to be a proper man again but that’s just what Neil had needed to do. Really the bruises were the boys fault. His lack of respect to his elders was a serious problem and there was only one way Neil could sort that. Eventually the pussy had to learn respect.

The game was on full blast and his fresh beer was nice and cold when Susan edged into the room. Neil’s forehead creased. That damn woman was ruining the game.

She stuttered out a “Neil. There… There’s a package for you.” She held out a brown, lumpy package addressed to him.

“Fuck off, woman. Can’t you see the game is on!” He snatched the package out of her hand and ignored her gasp of pain.

He ripped open the paper expecting a awful jumper or something. A belated birthday gift from a aunt or something.

Instead, he got an equally cushy lump of knitting. He scoffed and thought what grandma made this shit? The lump of brown knit unfurled in his hands revealing a bunch of what resembled letters. Neil twisted it around in his hands trying to make out the letter. Ne lnow vhol gau’re dainy. What? He looked a little closer and his blood ran cold.

We know what you’re doing.

———————————————————————————————————————————

Click, click, click.

———————————————————————————————————————————

It was the next week and Neil had put the knitting out of his mind. It was probably a mistake or a prank. Neil had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. He was certain of it.

In fact he was so sure, he had burnt the knitted monstrosity outside. He wasn’t scared of some stupid message.

Which was why when Susan slipped in holding an identical brown package to the one the week before he paid her no mind. No, he certainly didn’t pause the TV to scream at her and snatch the parcel away from her.

He tore open the now familiar brown wrapping to see a flash of blue. He pulled the knit outside of its wrapping to show off the blue hat. The half he was holding looked normal.

The red lettering he revealed by turning the hat spelt was again hard to read. Or perhaps the reader was a little bit drunk.

Asshole.

———————————————————————————————————————————

The crunch of bourbons filled the air.

———————————————————————————————————————————

Wednesday had arrived again. Neil didn’t have the football on this time. He wanted to see if what he had did stopped the knitting.

He had been so sure it was some type of prank. It had to be one of the people in his house. Of course, his pathetic excuse for a son was first. Perhaps he should have held off on the punishment before searching his room to find nothing.

The next day he had been down to the craft shop of Hawkins. According to Claud or whatever her name was from the shop, the boy had never set foot in that shop in his whole life. She would have remembered as she was the only worker there. Neil felt the urge to smack her rise again. Alas he couldn’t smack another man’s wife. He’d go to jail because there would be obvious proof.

Next step was to check his stepdaughters room. An unlikely culprit but one to try anyway. The girl wouldn’t get into anything suiting for girls no matter what he did. She wasn’t going to start just to knit him stuff. Clear.

He told Susan not to go anywhere near the mail box today. There was no way she could have knitted them without him knowing.

He pulled himself up from the couch. Time to see if his counterfeit measures had worked. He opened the post box.

Lo and behold a brown package was crumpled in there. His hands had a slight shake to them as he pulled out the package. It was slightly bigger than the rest.

He unwrapped it in the living room. A green jumper came out of the mess, on it knitted a sentence.

Arrest me. I deserve it.

———————————————————————————————————————————

Giggles in the background as the net tightens.

———————————————————————————————————————————

Neil refused to sit this Wednesday. He stood looking out the window. It was package time. On a Wednesday.

The postman stopped at a house. Then the next. And the next. Geez, this guy was slow.

Finally, he arrived. Neil watched like a hawk as he produced the brown package filling Neil’s mind with dread.

In fact, over the course of a week when thinking about the package Neil had a) spilt boiling water all over himself, b) accidentally shaved off half of his moustache, and worst of all c) accidentally screwed up the biggest work project of the season. He was lucky to not get fired. He had gone everywhere feeling like everyone was looking at him. The paranoia of not knowing who was sending the packages. What did they know. Whoever it was had to be ruining Neil’s life.

As he looked out the window he though about who it could be. The lady from the supermarket with the wart? That woman with the blonde hair walking down the road Or maybe next door who he was constantly in a argument with? The odd pair of friends with ten cats down the road? Or that guy he beat at poker the other week? Or the man with the moustache and glasses sat in his car outside? One of his stupid boy’s friends? Or maybe one of Maxine’s friends? An unknown stalker?

Whoever it was still eluded him.

In his thoughts he had managed to collect the parcel. He held the thing in his hand and looked hard at it.

His hands shook as he pulled back the paper. A pair of red gloves fell out of the package. They lay side by side on the floor as if someone was wearing them with their palms facing upwards.

The black text clear for all to see.

Abuser.

Neil jumped as he heard a shout at the door and a group of men entered.

“Freeze! Police!”

———————————————————————————————————————————

The sloshing of wine as a toast to victory. But work wasn’t quite done.

———————————————————————————————————————————

Neil Hargrove was sat down again. It was the next Wednesday after his entire life had changed.

His orange jumpsuit itched and his bunk mate snored loudly. His bunk mate wouldn’t cower under him. The large man had left a bruise on Neil’s cheek from the only time Neil had tried to enforce his way on the man. It was supposed to be his house, his rules.

But jail certainly wasn’t his house.

And the worst thing was that he didn’t know how. How had it gone so, so wrong? The police had presented him with the photos and the files. Weeks worth of photos, videos and even recordings all painstakingly took. A solid lot of evidence to sink him down. Each strike left on his son. Recordings of his screams slid over his soul. Videos of what he did in his own house.

It had to be connected to the knitting. The evidence hadn’t started collecting until a mere week before that. The calendar in the background of so many photos had proved that.

And here he sat another brown package in hand. This time delivered by a prison guard.

Neil felt like weeping. But of course he didn’t because real men don’t cry. And Neil’s a man.

A orange scarf trailed out of the package. A perfect match to his prison garb. More bold black letters stared out at him.

You got what you deserved.

The contact card of the Hawkins Knitting Club lay forgotten on the floor.

———————————————————————————————————————————

Four beings of pure rage sat around a table six weeks ago.

Joyce a woman who had lived under a man like Neil. She had children living under a man like Neil. She wouldn’t let him get get away with it.

Claudia who had lost her husband but loved all the more fiercely because of it. No one would hurt a child under her watch.

Sue who was largely unspoken but Sinclair's fight for those who can’t. No matter what Sue didn’t let it slide and she would always fight.

Murray who ran on rage and spite. He was always ready to take people like Neil down. It was his shit, his life’s goal.

They raged in a circle when Joyce had met the brother-sister duo of Max and Billy. When she saw the signs. Neil had crossed the wrong club.

Don’t make enemies of the local knitting club.

So they did what they did best. They knitted.

Not only that but they were patient. Knitting was a craft of patience.

Murray and Joyce sat outside of the house. Everyone went out and they went in. They had plenty of experience planting cameras and listening devices. Murray continued watching and took photos when he could. Claudia made sure to put salt into that man’s coffee every time he asked for sugar. He never remembered her despite seeing her serve him at both the craft show and the coffee shop. Men like him never noticed women like her. Sue was the one who made the call as she compiled evidence meticulously. Erica obviously got it from her mom. She wouldn’t miss a single moment until this guy was finished. And all of them knitted. They knitted until their fingers felt like bleeding. They had a lot to knit as they needed to make this perfect. And perfection takes time.

In the end it was the rage of the knitting club that tore Neil Hargrove down. Because you should never underestimate a bunch of mothers and a journalist who are thriving off coffee, bourbons and wine.

[blingblong55]

Enjoy the Silence- Alejandro Vargas

This is based on a request

F!reader, toxic!Alejandro, cheating, TW.

Back Story:

Your love story was something simple. Alejandro met you during a mission against El Sin Nombre years ago, before 141 got involved. He liked you, it was something obvious. He always flexed his arms, and said stupid crazy stories, just so you would think he was cool enough. My gosh was he a blushing mess when you kissed his cheek after your date. Three dates later (thanks to rudy) you and him started your relationship. It wasn't perfect, nothing is, but it was more than good. Everyone on base knew, and when 141 joined this time, they became aware of the relationship.

He was the proudest boyfriend. Always talking about you, gushing with little facts he knows of you to his closest friends. You were the princess and he your ever loving knight. It was the best thing to happen to either of you. It was a dream that so far has lasted 5 years.

--------

Unfortunately, this dream came to ruins when he started to distance himself. It all started with him not saying his daily I Love You's, then the phone calls he took outside. He later changed the password on his phone. "why the password change?" you asked, "mi amor, its because at work the guys try to sneak in and see our conversations, something about making fun of me and what not." he lied. "oh okay." you silently answered. His kisses weren't frequent any more. The days he knew you needed a hug or a simple "its okay" he wasn't around, when he was he would give you a cold shoulder.

"Ale?"

"estoy ocupado"

...

"Ale?"

"not now" ...

"Ale?"

"I have to take this call"

Back then when you and him were at base, he would always have you near. His hand on yours. Always feeling anxious, wanting to make the right moves just so you can stay by him. He always wanted more. Back then, he would've asked you to marry him. And if it wasn't for this rough road, you'd be his bride, his Lieutenant Vargas.

This morning before heading to base, you had enough. It was constant arguments.

"you'd look better with some makeup no?" "what?"

---

"WHO IS SHE ALEJANDRO?!?"

"estas pendeja? no hay nadie mas! ya no estes molestando!" he was so close to ending it.

You missed him. Missed his voice before sleeping. How he would hold you near his chest and not let go until morning.

"talk after this one okay?" he asked, you nod and continue with your day. At base as los vaqueros and 141 prepared you started to look back at everything. Soon the clues fell like puzzles. There was a reason why he stopped sleeping inside your shared home. A reason why he skipped breakfast, it was her. After the small encounter, that rudy mentioned, with Valeria, it all started to hurt even more.

He definitely mentioned the outfits, the dress, the makeup, the sex, because of her. She was his first everything, and although you trusted him, he still went to her. He always reassured you there was a reason why she was out of his life and you were there.

----

After Alejandro found out it was Valeria that passed as El Sin Nombre, he felt sick. She had been using him this entire time. He burnt all the bridges you and him built. Because of you he wanted to retire and move away, you were his only miracle. He cried, guilt slowly creeped in and started to kill him. Then he felt the pain, the way you wanted to just talk it all out. He know how much you hate arguments, especially when either of you sleep mad at the other. He always fixed his mistakes because thats when he learned with you. He was your homeland. How could he do this to the only woman to truly love him? The girl that showed him how crazy love can be.

You were his once in a life time.

As he stepped inside your shared home, there you laid on the couch. He later realized you didn't like sleeping in the bedroom you shared because he wasn't there, so you slept in the couch. It was like you were punishing yourself for something he did.

He lightly shook your arm. "r/n, wake up mi amor, we need to talk." you slowly opened your eyes. When your eyes met his, you smiled. His heart broke a little more. You sat and patted a place next to yours. He tried being near, but he wanted you to have your space. "What's wrong?"

No more lies.

"I...well..fuck..ok..I-I cheated on you, I know...I know I fucked up r/n. I'm sorry, I really am. I got consumed in it and well...I got lost. Perdon mi amor."

You sighed, tears formed and soon they left your tired eyes. You knew this was coming but nothing could ever prepare you for it. You had to be civil about this. "Who." you said, "Valeria." there it was. The same name you grew to hate. "ok." you stood up, not once did you look at him. You walked into the kitchen, holding onto every wall. Your knees gave up and you fell to the floor. You're cried, gosh were you a mess. Alejandro ran to your side. "mi amor estas bien?" you didn't answer. "But I promise...I- I swear to everything, I'm done with that. I'm yours, just yours." he reassured. You still didn't face him, "this won't happen again, the lo juro." he kissed your trembling hands. "Ale don't make promises you cant keep." you finally spoke up. "but I can! this time I can!"

Your weak self stood up, you walked to the kitchens island, as you sat down you looked at him. Your eyes blood shot red. "were there others?" "no." mmhm." "I'm being serious. just her." he lied

"I promise no more lying." another lie.

He started kissing you, touching "you all over, he placed your hands on his chest, then down his pants. "Soy todo tuyo." he said as he placed more kisses down your neck. You just say they're, numb to all words. "solo tuyo." he kept kissing. "porfavor dime algo." and soon his hands started to take your clothes off. He kissed your shoulder. His touched intensified. "you promise?" you asked, "si," he answered "solo tuyo."

You got up and locked yourself in the guest bedroom. He sat there in shock. Did that really work? wow.

For weeks you two worked hard as ever to fix the bruises he made in your relationship (metaphorically). Tonight while he and 141 were out, you and your best friend drove to a far city. "Just do it, you have fun, I'll stay in the hotel room texting him and making sure he doesn't know."

"are you sure this is a smart idea?"

"if he did it, then why not you, technically for him the relationship was and is a joke. So go put on that dress and go whore around for tonight, just please don't get fucking pregnant." You two laughed.

By the morning, you woke up to a man holding you close. He naked body on yours. Hickeys all over your skin. "fuck." you smiled.

By lunch you were back at the hotel, your best friend made Alejandro think you and her were at some all girl convention. He remained loyal after what happened with Valeria, and you remained loyal after what happened with that German tourist.

Vows are spoken To be broken Feelings are intense Words are trivial Pleasures remain So does the pain Words are meaningless And forgettable

A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this one. Wrote this based on a personal experience (kinda). Bye now!

[plentyquinces]

GOD'S QUESTIONS TO JOB AND HOW WE NEED A LION KING 2 "WE ARE ONE" MOMENT IN SEASON 3

Has anybody talked about the fact that when god talks to Job and lists all these things Job hasn't done and doesn't understand as means of dismissing his questions, she's kind of listing things we've seen Crowley do?

"do you know how I created the earth?"

Of course he does. Even if he wasn't involved in the planning stages of earth, he was there when she created it (IF she created it at all and didn't just let angels do it as she did with the other planets and stars)

"where were you when i layed the foundations of the earth, Job?"

Propably watching. Or being briefed on it.

"were you there when all the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?"

Propably singing with the morning stars or shouting with the angels.

"do you know the rules of the heavens?"

Always did and still does. Heaven is like a bee hive, they never change their passwords, god is not talking to anybody, and they're just as bad as hell.

"Did you set the constellations in the sky?"

He quite literally did.

"Can you send lightning bolts and get them to report back to you?"

WE SAW HIM DO THAT THIS SEASON THIS CANNOT BE A COINCIDENCE!

"Did you give wings to peacocks, Job, or teach the ostrich to run?"

I mean...let's bend the question a bit and just say Crowley gave wings to goats.

AND you know who we witnessed going on and on about how great whales are? CROWLEY!

By asking these questions, god wants to silence Job. she doesn't grant him the right to have questions about how she does things when he can neither comprehend nor has witnessed her power and the beginnings of the world he inhabits. if she names understanding the power to create and bend the elements and being there for the creation of the universe as reqirements for questioning her actions then, if you held her to her word, that would mean that by her own standarts she was wrong for casting Crowley out of heaven. I mean sure, we all kind of already know that, my boy has done nothing wrong in his life but it all kind of drives home the point that by all means there SHOULD have been a suggestion box. the angels helped her create the universe, she seemed to have outsourced an awful lot of jobs that come with creating a universe and she took all the credit.

God is in the wrong. and I think both Crowley and Aziraphale need to understand this.

sure, Crowley kind of knows he's been treated unfairly and he internally wrestles with god but the extend to which his trust has been broken by being cast out has traumatized him and he needs to fully acknowledge the fact that he didn't just get an overly harsh punishment for a mistake he made, he didn't make any mistake at all. I need him to say it. I need to see that he believes it. Thinking that he made an unforgiveable mistake made him internalize the message that he must be evil. all the demons did. its why hell is the ways it is and demons look the way they look. they're still angels in every way but status and name. they're angels who've been told they're so bad that they deserve only to live in the basement and they do evil because they've been branded as such for a crime that shouldn't have been one.

Aziraphale needs to understand that God was wrong for casting Crowley out of heaven. Crowley wasn't wrong to question God. He needs to learn that demons aren't inherently anything (it really bothered me when he said "Even demons aren't that stupid" in S2), they're just fallen and being fallen is not directly linked to a moral failure on their part. It's why I think that he's too misguided to change heaven until he eventually realizes this. Aziraphale still holds heaven in high regard and he has defended and excused heavens actions because while he knows that the angels who run heaven are at times incompetent or corrupt, he still believes in god and that her plan and her decisions must be the epitome of good. he thinks the legitimacy of the dicataorship that is heaven is a question of competency ( a competency he thinks he can provide). Aziraphale needs to understand that there is no such thing as a good dictatorship. the system is broken and he needs to break it. there should neither be a heaven nor a hell. god isn't inherently good. People shouldn't go to heaven or hell for reacting to circumstances that they can't control. Wee Morag shouldn't be in hell for helping a friend trying to save them from starvation. But she might be. And I think S3 is gonna address this.

[winterlogysblog]

GENSHIN IMPACT FIC

With Betrayal comes Punishment

a/n: my first Genshin fic, also English isn't my first language so bear with me.

Available on AO3

"Hmmm." Kaeya stroked his chin while observing the giant vases displayed at the market. He even thought of bringing one back to Mondstadt as a souvenir. However, his thoughts spiraled back to his interaction with the Traveler that afternoon.

Of course, Kaeya's purpose for coming all the way to Sumeru is true, but he also has other motives. It's not hard to convince Jean to agree to his proposal mainly because he is known for his love for alcohol. However, he didn't expect him to be here as well.

Dainslief

Kaeya doesn't trust the man one bit but he did help clear up some questions and suspicions he has, so he's somewhat grateful for that. What he wants to know is the reason why he is in Sumeru. Could they be after the same thing? No, that can't be it.

Kaeya sighed and started walking his way outside of the port. Now that all of his professional business is taken care of, it's time for the real reason he wanted to go to Sumeru.

His adventure in Sumeru is unfortunately cut short when he's just a child, he internally laughed as he reminisced about the memory. As a child, there was simply curiosity about his origins but as he grew older inside the Ragnvindr manor, he felt as though there was no reason to dig through his past as he has found a family that actually cares for him.

But now, there's a need for it. He can't hide from it forever, one way or another they will come for him and he has to make a choice. A choice that he once thought would be simple but after what happened that rainy night, he can't allow himself to make the same mistake again.

Kaeya has built and perfected the mask he wears every single day. Keeping things hidden and lying about certain things has become second nature to him. He won't let anyone know anything unless it's truly necessary.

On his way to his destination, Kaeya decided to call upon the source of the uneasy feeling he had bubbling up inside.

"You can come out now, I know you're there."

Within the lush green trees and bushes came out a figure. Tall and blue. A Lector? No, it's a Herald.

"You've been following me since this morning. It's quite rude. Now, tell me what have I done to catch the attention of the Abyss Order." Kaeya spoke.

"Kaeya Alberich, your connection to the abyss is so much greater than you have ever imagined."

"But of course." Kaeya let out an airy chuckle. "I have grown, learned, and discovered a few things."

"I assume you've listened to my conversation with Dainsleif earlier."

"I did notice that you're good friends with the blonde-haired traveler, got yourself acquainted with Dainsleif, and discussed... a few things. I hope you're not forgetting your duty."

"Of course not." Kaeya plastered on a smile.

"It's good that you've managed to put everything together."

"Truth be told, Dainsleif helped me realize a few things."

Realize that everything he thought was just wishful thinking. He's quite stupid to even think that his father would drop him at Mondstadt simply to give him a good life, free of burden. What a farce.

"Your loyalty belongs to the people of Khaenri'ah alone. Together with the Princess, we shall revive the motherland. And if you ever come to betray us, we'll make sure to set you up straight."

Kaeya smiled at the Herald as it disappeared out of sight. Its last words echoed through his mind like a broken record. Almost mocking him. Mocking him on how stupid he has been. Stupid of thinking there's a way out.

His eyes landed on his vision, long ago, he had hoped that a sinner like him having such a thing was a sign that his fate would change. It gave him hope that there was a chance he could be saved. But of course, Celestia isn't merciful for beings like him, for the two pairs of wings in his vision will forever be a constant reminder that he will never be truly a part of Mondstadt.

With one deep breath, he shook all of those thoughts away, his mind going back to the task at hand.

Right, the Avidya Forest, that's where it should be.

------

The rain poured hard as it covered the street with dirt and blood. A lone figure stood behind his army as he stared deep into one's blue eyes.

"You have disappointed me Kaeya." The figure spoke. "This city has tainted you."

The figure laughed, stretching out his arms, abyssal power flowing through him. "No matter, I can fix that."

Within a second, Kaeya felt what he could possibly describe as the most excruciating pain he has felt. He fell to his knees, shivering and clutching his body, for he has no idea what body part to grab onto as the pain is all over him. His body felt like it was on fire, needles slowly piercing deep into his skin, hammers pounding onto his head. The pain grew and grew and all he could do was scream, scream until his lungs gave out, scream until his voice gave out, scream until he couldn't scream any longer. The pain slowly became more prominent in his eye. His right eye to be specific. His right arm latched onto his eyepatch and quickly removed it and held a tight grip on his face, almost as if it reduced the pain he was feeling.

"Kaeya!"

He heard voices calling his name, and footsteps rushing toward him.

"What did you do to him?!" Kaeya heard a familiar voice. Jean? No, it can't be her, the voice is way too deep to belong to Jean. Diluc, maybe?

The red-haired gripped his claymore ready to attack, he hasn't seen Kaeya in such a pitiful state. The man has always been calm and collected. His heart broke into a thousand pieces for his worst nightmare is happening before his very eyes. Kaeya might die. Kaeya might die before he could apologize to him properly.

"What did you do to my brother?!" Diluc shouted, pointing his claymore at the figure before him. His vision becomes red, all he cares about at this point is saving Kaeya. Saving his brother. He can't let him die. There's still so much he has yet to do, so much left unsaid.

"Brother?!" The figure laughed, mocking him. "Kaeya isn't your brother! You can't be brothers with the likes of him! A sinner! A Khaenri'an! A traitor! A monster!"

Kaeya's screams got louder and louder, and his voice became rougher as if his throat was bleeding from all the screaming he'd been doing.

"Please..." Kaeya managed to say. "Kill me..."

"What?!" Diluc turned to him, eyes wide like saucers.

"Kill me Diluc... until I'm still me... Kill me now... before I... before I-I destroy everything... Please... I beg you..." Kaeya groaned, tears pooling in his eyes as he could feel abyssal power welling up inside of him. A power that's cold, dark, and sinister.

"NO!!!" Diluc screamed in protest. "I won't!! I promised myself I will never hurt you ever again!!"

"Please... I-I don't want to hurt anyone... I don't want to hurt Mondstadt... I don't... I-I don't want to hurt you."

"I-I can't do that!! You can't make me do that!! I-I couldn't possibly..."

Kaeya continued screaming until his voice became unrecognizable. Abyssal power surges through him, enveloping his entire being.

"KAEYA!!!" Diluc bolted up from his bed in a cold sweat.

Diluc looked around his surroundings, he was in his room and the sun was shining brightly. A nightmare? But, it felt so real.

Diluc leaned his head in the palm of his hand, contemplating what he just witnessed. His mind was swirling with uneasy thoughts. What was that? He asked himself.

He stood up from his bed and went over to the bathroom to wash his face, hoping to rid himself of the sudden weight he felt over his shoulders, but it was no use. He's a mess.

Only the sound of glass breaking woke him up from his trance-like state.

"What was that?" He asked, rushing downstairs, only to be greeted by an empty space and a broken vase. Colorful shards scattered around the wooden floor.

[krylng]

Leave Me Alone

Quick note: These are my created characters, and my created plot. This is not a fan fiction. Fanart is allowed, though I doubt this will ever be that popular.

Genre: Dystopian and some romance.

Rating: 13+

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Chapter 1

I ran my slim, pale fingers through my fake, brown locks. The teacher is talking about the Empire, the group of powerful people that rule our nation; they are not fair leaders. Schools are legally required to teach us about them. Instead of math, science, and Spanish, we learn their history and consequences if we ever dare to step out of line.

I would be shot dead if I said this out loud, but the Empire is stupid. An Empire is supposed to be fair to its citizens, yet we live in slums and poverty. Most of us at least; not the rich citizens. They live in the palace with the members of the Empire.

The Empire is a disease.

Our teacher—Mr. Wiles— teaches us, but is observed by soldiers in our army. Soldiers with heavy guns and armor. Soldiers who would kill children if they did so much as speak out of turn.

They would kill children if they were different.

That’s why I conceal my hair with a wig, though I doubt there are any rules on the color of your hair. I’ve learned it’s better to be safe than sorry in this civilization.

Our schools don’t have grades or levels, but I’m surrounded by other eighteen year olds. I’m not exactly sure when school ends for adults.

Though Mr. Wiles is legally required to talk about the Empire, he likes to challenge us when we least expect it. Unfortunately for me, he has chosen to do it the day I don’t pay attention.

The challenge today is trivia. It’s simple; answer right, you’re safe. Answer wrong, and there is a punishment, though nobody knows what it is since it happens in a different room.

“Oh, this one is an easy one.” Mr. Wiles says as he pulls the card out from the stack. “When was our Empire founded?” He glances around the room. He looks for a kid who is fidgeting or sweating. “Ralph, can you tell me the answer?” He has chosen his prey.

Ralph clears his throat before answering. “Nineteen forty-two, sir.”

Mr. Wiles refrains from smiling as he pulls another card out. “What are the names of our leaders?” He chuckles. “This one may be challenging. Grey.”

Grey looks up with her bright, blue eyes. “Lieutenant Hales, Colonel Mark, Prince Wyatt, Smith, and King Daniels, sir.” She said in no particular order.

“Very good, though you left out the council. I’ll let it slide, but please don’t make that mistake next time.” He says as he shuffles the card back into the pile. He looks through all the cards instead of pulling randomly. His focus slips and his eyes blink green; nobody notices but me. “Akala. What are the meanings of hair colors?” His smile is wicked.

It’s like he sees right through me. Like he knows my secret. How is this possible? I gulp silently and clear my throat. “The meaning of hair colors? Umm…” The truth? I had no idea.

“Mr. Wiles, I believe we’ve never been taught about the significance of hair colors—“ A kid interrupts my thinking. He could be shot for that.

“Not now, Liam.” Mr. Wiles dismisses. “Akala should know, since she’s hiding something.”

My heart hammers loudly in my chest. “The meaning of hair colors…is status.” I guessed.

“Not bad, Ms. Wambers. Though there are more meanings to hair colors, which is today’s lesson.” He smiles. “Class is almost over, so I’ll keep this brief. The meaning of hair colors are, yes, status, but also power and love.

“Power—Abilities are something that will be triggered in adulthood. Abilities are only gifted to those with wealth and power, meaning most of you won’t get one. Yes, most.

“And Love—soulmates. Most people have a soulmate. The people with power have contrasting hair colors, meaning that someone with red hair might be soulmates with someone with brown hair. One rare, one common. Also black and white hair. Complete opposites.

“Now, how do you know that someone is your soulmate? Hair of course, but also contrasting abilities. Day and Night. Fire and Water. Yes, multiple people have the same hair color, and yes, multiple people have the same abilities, but nobody has the same hair color and ability.” He pauses for questions.

“If we don’t get abilities, how do we know who our soulmate is?” Ralph asked.

“Very good question, you don’t. Since everyone here is a commoner, you will never know, but you will have one nonetheless. Only Elites will know, since our population and power relies on them.” The bell rattles above the clock.

We are dismissed.

School lasts around an hour, and is only on Wednesdays, because this pathetic Empire doesn’t have that much history and needs to be spread out so people can learn for years. I know, stupid.

“Ms. Wambers, may I speak with you?” Mr. Wiles plops onto his chair and rearranges papers. The soldiers left. Suspicious.

I pivoted on my foot and walked back to his desk; I say nothing.

“I knew your answer was a guess, but I’m greatly appalled you don’t know anything about your own hair.” He adjusts his glasses and pauses. “Don’t look at me like that. I saw you tuck a strand of snow white hair under that artificial wig.”

He pauses again. “Take it off.” My eyes widen at his request, but I’d be a fool to reject someone with soldiers wrapped around his finger. I slowly pull the wig off and let it fall onto his desk.

“You don’t belong here.” His tone terrifies me, but I stay calm. “Someone with hair such as yourself doesn’t belong in this area of the Empire.” He snaps his fingers, and dozens of soldiers in armor from head to toe walk out of nowhere. They point their armory at me as two soldiers grab my arms and pull me out of the classroom. Frightened eyes of students and other teachers stare at me as I am pulled to my demise. I remembered they have never seen me with white hair, but the chances of that being the reason they’re staring is extremely low. I’m being escorted by the military, of course they’re staring.

They pull me outside, a long, black limousine waiting for us. I am pushed inside roughly, and they slam the door on me. The limousine instantly drives off, and I watch as the school disappears and is replaced by dozens, hundreds, thousands of dark trees. We pass homeless people, people living in slums, huts, cottages, houses, mansions. The houses get better and better as we drive. I look in front of me for the first time. We’re approaching a dark black palace.

The driver presses a button, and the long gates open for us. He pulls forward, the path curving around a fountain of fresh blue water. The closer we get, the more detail I see on the castle. The wall around the door is coated in beautiful black gems and diamonds. The limousine door is opened, and I am greeted by a man with black hair and cold jet black eyes. He’s wearing a basic outfit, trousers and a tight, white workout shirt that shows the outline of his abs. I almost laugh at the black cape that hangs from his broad shoulders.

“You must be Akala Wambers.” His voice isn’t accusing, but calm and nonchalant. He isn’t excited to see me, but isn’t dreading the visit. His voice is smooth and deep, making my name sound important.

“Yes, that’s me…” I look around.

“We’re at the palace.” He says, and my expression darkens. He’s obviously amused by my reaction. “Wyatt.” He introduced himself, but doesn’t extended an arm. He bows. I give him a confused look, and he chuckles.

“Prince Wyatt.” He says proudly, before wrapping his fingers around my wrists, and pulling my ear to his mouth. “But you may call me Wyatt.”

“Is there a difference?” I ask and he chuckles. I don’t dare to move.

“Why yes, everyone is to call me Prince Wyatt. Not you.” I raised my eyebrow, and open my mouth to speak before he interrupts. “You may call me Prince Wyatt, but I’m just giving you some options.”

“What about entitled bastard?” I say, and instantly purse my lips to avoid saying something again. To my surprise, he lets out a dark chuckle.

“How would you know if I’m a bastard yet, sweetheart?” It amazes me how I could call him something so rotten, and he could reply with calling me something so sweet. “Though I wish to see you again, I’m afraid it’s not my decision to make for what happens to you.”

Oh right. That’s why I’m here. To be executed.

Two guards are waiting for me. They guide me inside.

The palace is beautiful—the entrance is embellished in diamonds and pearls. The chandelier is decorated with dozens of lit candles, and colored in a smooth gold. There are paintings of the royal family with a sleek golden frame. I would admire it more, but I didn’t have any time to before they pulled me into a hallway downstairs in the basement. The basement was made from rotting concrete and smelled musty. The contrary to the rest of the palace. I am thrown into a small room the shape of a box.

I hear the bar door slam.

Shit. I’m trapped in what appears to be an insane asylum.

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[devastator1775]

Welcome to my gaming rant! Strap in, because it's a long one.

For the last couple of days, I have been playing Star Wars: Outlaws ...a lot. We're talking multiple hours, several times a day, every day. I like this game. It has its faults, which hopefully get fixed in future patches.

Today, mere minutes ago ...something happened. Something that made me decide not to play the game for a few days because I am reeling with anger - both at the game and my own stupidity.

One of the problems I have with this game is that the reload after you die/make a mistake can put your entire mission at risk. When you respawn after dying; all the enemies have respawned as well. While this does not happen in story missions - not that I have been aware off - in the open world freeroam this can be a problem.

The fact that there is no quicksave and the game is really fickle about when you can manually save, has ended up screwing over my game.

The following has happened multiple times: I'll die/reload a save after screwing up my stealth and I end up in the open, surrounded by Stormtroopers that I already killed pre-reload and I get a wanted level.

That's the backstory, now to why I'm punishing the game by not playing it for a few days:

I am doing an open world freeroam mission on Akiva - collecting the final part to unlock an ability. I am in an large open Imperial compound, trying to find this part. I have been stealthing for 10 minutes - managing to reload to a save - where I spawned right in front of an Imperial officer, which I dealt with quickly.

That was not the thing. Still backstory.

I am going round the camp, stealth killing enemies; when suddenly I get discovered while I am in the bushes and shouldn't have been spotted.

No problem, I'll reload an autosave.

I end up on the Landing Pad, surrounded by stormtroopers and get an immediate Wanted level.

Okay, I'll just reload the autosave before that one - but not before I delete the autosave that ended up with me surrounded by stormtroopers.

I reload a different file.

...

(Deep sigh)

I end up at the beginning of a mission that I did a few hours before.

And there's no other save file that puts me somewhere else after that mission.

...

I lost ...so much progress. I've lost unlocked abilities. I would have to redo a mandatory Sabbac game to unlock new abilities. I have to redo everything to get to that one point again.

AAAAAGH! GAMER PROBLEMS!

Lesson learned: Manual save as much as possible, because you never know when the game will screw you over.

UBISOFT, a message to you: Please patch it so that enemies don't respawn around you again after a reload. I mean, why? What's the purpose, if it only means that you'll mess up a players progress?

...

I'm done with Star Wars: Outlaws for a few days. I really am. This just really made me mad....I love this game, but it has bit me in the butt a few times and I need to step away. Do some gunpla. Watch the remaining episodes of Lupin The 3rd Part 6. Buy Kung Fu Panda 4 because I haven't seen it yet. Get some writing done. Do some of my chores around my place.

Decompress and finding my inner peace again.

Maybe then I'll have the courage to pick up my controller again.

Because I really do enjoy this game.

Even though, right now, it can go #$@! itself.

[liminalitycarb]

Xenoblade 2 - Final Chapter (Part 5) - And thus, boy met girl.

And thus, everyone returns in... spotlight form...

...Rex is still stuck in his nightmare isn't he?

Oh, it seems we are out of the horror! It was just the Architect trying to peer into everyone's soul. That little rascal!

And thus the Architect informs everyone that he's been spying on them all, INCLUDING THEIR OWN PERSONAL THOUGHTS IT SEEMS! ...Klaus had no respect for privacy did he?

So it seems everyone had a different set of visions, but they all shared the same thread of being fears that they harbor. But he wanted to see in order to tell how humanity has changed over the years, and get a feel for their current direction as a species.

Klaus... I hate to tell you but a sample size of 3 humans, 1 Noppon, a Flesh Eater, and a bunch of blades is NOT a statistically significant sample size...

OH BOY! EXPOSITION TIME EVERYONE! Klaus is going to give us his memories, and the memories of the planet. Little did I know he could communicate with the Life stream.

So summary of the past - The word was stuck in a struggle for survival WORSE than what Alrest is experiencing now. Klaus saw it as unseemly, but he did recognize the glimpses of beauty (unlike some pope who SHALL NOT BE NAMED.... and not because I'm blanking on his actual name...)

"Humanity harbors desires, and struggles to realize them. This is the natural state of man" says Klaus. Right before saying "I thought that was stupid so I tried to rewrite THE UNIVERSE!"

Ah yes... the Zohar... I mean Conduit... the biggest plot-driver of the Xeno games. I think in Saga it was basically an energy source that connected to a higher plane of existance, that they used to then create the universe wide INTERNET! (which... caused ghosts to appear...) And now it gave someone the power to open gates TO THE MULTIVERSE...

APPARENTLY almost everyone else who used to LIVE ON EARTH got shunted against their wills into alternate universe BECAUSE KLAUS HAD TO MESS WITH THE FREAKING ZOHAR THAT HE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND.

This is why you don't mess with alien/divine artifacts that magically appear in front of you without KNOWING WHAT IT DOES.

Oh.... so THAT is how Klaus exists as both the Architect and as Zanza... he is LITERALLY stuck half way between two universes....

At least he got to feel eternal agony for his part in breaking all reality?

Huh... so apparently timeline wise Xenoblade 1 and 2 must take place at about the same real time if he can tell that Zanza is about to die.

Well, at least you accept this for what it is Klaus. You recognize you fucked up, and you have accepted your punishment for that.

Oh, more lore! Apparently Klaus didn't just accept his punishment. He sought out redemption by trying to restore the world. And now we learn that the Cloud Sea is A MUCH MORE TERRIFYING THING THAN I THOUGHT...

It's a sea of nanomachines that apparently tries to eat old matter to turn it into new matter...

... okay... I guess people calling him the Architect and their effective Creator God was... not farfetched at all since he APPARENTLY DID CREATE LIFE...

Apparently all the core crystals are miniature vessels with the memories of the previous inhabitants of the planet. Though... how did you get those memories if they were sent to other universes Klaus? HOW DID YOU GET THEM!?

So when a core crystal mixes with the cloud sea, you get new life apparently.

And thus Klaus seeded the planet with life, and just waited for evolution to do its thing.

I mean.. If you're worried about humanity repeating their mistakes... you could... I don't know? GUIDE THEM? LIKE YOU WOULD A CHILD!? This is why you teach the young Klaus. So they can learn from your mistakes and your successes without needing to go through the pain of it all themselves constantly... and so you can TRY TO AVOID THEM FROM MAKING THE SAME BAD MISTAKES YOU DID.

Oh.. he's mostly worried if someone like him (dumb, foolhardy, but also intelligent enough to actually break everything) appeared. Okay.. that might be harder to stop. But apparently his answer was to create the Blades.

I guess... to try and kill his doppelganger if they ever appeared?

Oh hey, apparently there are supposed to be 3 ZOHAR BLADES. But one of them just happened to disappear because of a "Space-Time Transition Event"...

Klaus... did you just throw it into the conduit one day because you were bored and wanted to see what happened? You can tell us.

Oh goody, apparently Pyra and Malos were in charge of managing every other blade in existence!

And... apparently every blade is constantly sending data to the two of them... How are they both so stable if they are CONSTANTLY getting data of basically EVERYTHING every other blade is experiencing all the time?

Oh, this is apparently a bi-directional data connection. Pneuma and Logos get the "what's the current status" data, and they send back new info to try and help the blades change over time to meet the needs of the new humanity. That.. is weird but I guess a way to try to automate your "guidance" of everyone.

Oh.... oh not EVERYONE was shunted into other universes... those that survived other than Klaus were... turned into those monsters we say in Morytha..

It seems they used the original version of the core crystals to try to achieve immortality.. As they... were supposed to replace your brain cells? I don't get how that is supposed to work... But hey! Klaus took it and repurposed old tech for a new, probably more useful function. (though possibly just as ethically gray)

And there is EVEN MORE EXPOSITION. But that has to be for the next part because I'm at the image limit.

[oldblackhat]

This is so crazy to me because I see them both as equally co-protagonists but like if you absolutely twisted my hand and forced me to pick one I would (very very reluctantly) have to pick Aziraphale as the main protagonist in season 2.

This is a romance but I believe it is also a Bildungsroman - and the bildungsroman aspect is mostly Azi (because as Neil’s said Crowley’s mostly already where he needs to be)

I mean why did Neil include the minisodes? What purpose do they have in the show?

I think its 1/to further establish their bond and its development and 2/to show Aziraphale being confronted with moral dilemmas and learning & growing from them.

On point #2, I think a lot of s2 is setting up what we might expect to see from Azi as Supreme Archangel in Heaven in s3

1/We see from Job’s kids (and s1) he has the capacity to go against heaven when he believes they are morally wrong — even at risk of personal punishment

Dont tell me that he didn’t lie to Gabe fully expecting in that moment that this is his fall—he does it anyway to save the lives of 3 innocent children

2/We see from the Reasurectionists that Azi is capable of admitting he was wrong, learning from his mistakes, and modifying his behavior accordingly

This is fucking critical - an angel of heaven admitting he was wrong?!? confronted with evidence that conflicts with his beliefs and so he recognizes he was wrong and changes his beliefs?!?

In a morality tale or a bildungsroman - the narrative point is the lesson learned. I think it is less about the beginning belief and more about the ending belief & the journey of self discovery from the prior to the latter

3/We see from the Nazi Zombies that he

is willing to go through with a stupid plan (the bullet shot when their miracles aren’t working) but also that

he has utmost belief and trust in Crowley’s abilities - (personally I think even if they’re still on the outs - if push really comes to shove they both would trust each other with their lives in a pinch)

he can and will use deception & sleight-of-hand to keep Crowley safe.

it ends with him agreeing with Crowley that “shades of gray” has its place

4/we do see from the Ball that he has the capacity to thoughtlessly abuse his power (as we all do—its uncomfortable)

I commonly see this referenced by ppl who seem to think he’ll be the main antagonist is s3

I do think it indicates there is a possibility we may see him do something unintentionally problematic in s3—with all good intentions to avert the apocalypse

It also reminds me of the “ends justify the means” line in the book and Ive seen some interesting metas written by others relating it to cackling in Terry Pratchett’s books (pics at the v bottom because the apps fighting me)

But then when I compare the ball to the lessons he learned in the first 2 minisodes - I can’t help believe that if someone confronted him about the Ball (like Maggie & Nina confronted Crowley) that he is capable of having an “oh fuck” moment about the Ball like he did about the grave robbing

And that similarly if he does do anything similar in s3 he is capable of learning he was wrong

There is moral value in wanting to reform systems to be more kind (even if Crowley and the audience think its futile-what matters is Azi doesn’t think so—he has hope and good intentions)

Not in terms of romance but in terms of saving the world (major theme of s1 & Neil’s said will be a major thme of s3 - I think s2 is like a romantic transition) then I think Azi is actually in more of an interesting postion to influence world/interdimensional events for s3. I mean Azi is now supreme archangel while Crowley is still on Earth having turned down power from both sides.

Honestly, if the minisodes didn’t exist at all my outlook on Azi’s ability to possibly 1/enact wider change and 2/personally change in s3 would be greatly lessened - I tend to think that’s why the minisodes narratively exist.

Right here’s some pics relevant to my discussion of the Ball (why can the tumblr app be so lame?)

it greatly disappoints me how many good omens fans treat crowley like the show’s sole protagonist after watching season 2… it’s quite weird honestly

[megsironthrone]

Who Hurt You?!

Based on this request:  so if it’s ok, could you do a viserys xreader where the reader gets injured in a fight or someone flirts with her and viserys gets all angry and possessive because

Here you are! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, injury, and death. Viserys is his own warning

Pairings/Characters: Viserys Targaryen x fem!reader

You saw Viserys angry quite frequently. He was known for his dragon-like temper after all. However, you'd never seen him so angry as he was right now. His face was so red it was nearly purple. His nearly white hair was all over the place, falling in his face as he shook with rage and fire flashed in his eyes. Had that temper been actually directed at you, you probably would have been quaking in your boots at that point.

         When you had returned to the chambers you shared with Viserys, it only took one look for him to fly into a rage. There, on your face as plain as day, was a black eye. Now Viserys didn't care for many people. At all. His main focus was achieving his own goals. But you were his queen and NO ONE hurt you.

         "Who was it?" he asked through clenched teeth. You rolled your eyes a little. "One of the knights got drunk and decided not to recognize his queen. He tried to put his hands on me so I nearly removed his reason for living. He hit me." Viserys' pale face grew even more red and you could tell he was about to completely lose it.

         You placed a hand on his chest. "I'm fine, my love. He hit like a child, truly." Viserys' violet eyes flashed to your face, his expression telling you that he wasn't at all amused. "Viserys, really. No need to get upset." Fire sparked in your husband then as he grabbed your arms. "No need? A man dared to put his hands on you. You! His Queen! I AM THE ONLY MAN ALLOWED TO TOUCH YOU! NOW WHO WAS IT?! WHO HURT YOU?!"

         "Volume, dearest. There is no need to shout. Besides, killing him now will do no good. He's too drunk to realize what's happening." Viserys let go of you with an angry sigh. He knew you were right. You always were. "What do you suggest then?" You smiled as you approached him. You cupped his cheek with your hand. "Wait until morning. Then call him to you in front of the entire court to announce his punishment. You can show your subjects who the true king is and why no one should mess with your queen." A wicked smile spread across your husband's lips.

         There was a particular way to handle Viserys in order to keep his temper somewhat in check while keeping yourself alive. You had learned that appealing to his ego/claim to the throne was the quickest way to soothe him. Was that what you had expected when your marriage to Viserys was arranged? Of course not, but that was what you learned quickly.

         That was how you found yourself the next day standing by Viserys' side as the knight who'd hurt you was marched into the room in chains. The knight's eyes narrowed at you for a brief moment. Viserys caught this, of course, and sneered. "You dare let your gaze fall upon my queen again?!" The knight flinched back, but the other knights held him in place. You had earned the loyalty of the Guard and they protected you almost as fiercely as Viserys. Viserys grabbed your arm as gently as he could in his state of rage.

         "Well?! Look upon your handiwork, Ser. Drunken mistake or no, you have harmed your queen! First, you tried besmirch her honor and when she refused, you dared to lay your hands on her." The longer Viserys spoke, the more frightened the knight looked. Viserys' voice was dangerously low. Deadly. Whatever happened next was not going to be pleasant for the knight. His decision was now about to see its consequence. You would think a man facing death would at least try to fight for his life. Not this man. Oh no. Instead, he chose to do the most stupid thing he could have.

         Before you could blink, the knight fought off his guards and flew at you. You didn't even move. You knew he wouldn't get far. In an instant,  Viserys ran the knight through with his sword. Your eyes met those of the man who had attacked you twice now and you smirked. He only remained alive because Viserys had yet to remove his sword. "That was not the smartest thing you could have done just then. You've given your king more than enough cause to execute you. Consider yourself lucky that your death will be swift once that sword is removed from your gullet."

         On cue, Viserys pulled the sword from the former knight who then fell to the floor. "Let it be known that this is what happens to those who dare to disrespect and mistreat my queen! That behavior with NOT be tolerated in my kingdom." Viserys held out his hand for you to take. You did and stepped over the body of the now dead man as you left the room at your husband's side.

         Once the doors were closed behind you and you were alone, you let yourself smile a little. What Viserys had done might have been overkill, but you felt safe with him knowing that no one would ever dare to hurt you again.

(a/n: I really hope you like it!!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @line-viper​ @etherealpotter​ @frozenhuntress67​ @cd1242​ @smalltownbigheart​ @gruffle1​ @igotmadskills​ @supernatural4life2022​

[wri0thesley]

Nat. NAT. I just saw your concept about naoya "training" his wife by just throwing her in the room and just watching her struggle to defend herself... Until she ofc breaks and begs him to protect her🙈 you have a MASSIVE brain, the biggest and horniest brain nat can you please write this concept for the event😭😭 maybe w 45 and any other dark or spicy add ons that you see fit!

traditional discipline - naoya x fem!reader (3.3k)

naoya has had enough of you, and resorts to an unusual method of discipline.

warnings: not sfw/minors dni. DARK CONTENT. unhealthy relationship/marriage. fearplay, dacryphilia, finger-sucking, cock-sucking, punishment, threat of violence and death. dubious consent. afab reader with fem pronouns. 

[a/n: this concept literally wouldn’t leave me alone. i’m sorry to all of the readers who are naoya’s wife i’m always so horrible to them]

The room goes quiet as Naoya hauls you out of it by your upper arm.

It’s an easy mistake, a simple slip-up; accidentally talking over your husband. But it’s one in a slew you’ve been making recently, despite Naoya thinking that you were polite and well-bred and knew your place. He’s sick of it, to be quite frank; he doesn’t have time to be correcting you when you should already know how to behave.

You’ve done accidental, small things since the two of you were married. Denying him when he rolled you onto your back at night. Not standing quite as far behind him as you should. Pouring tea for other people before him. He’s given you swift reprimand with both his words and his hands, but . . . it’s clearly not sinking into your pretty little head, is it?

He warned you about this.

“Next time,” he’d growled to you, when you’d laughed too loud at a joke that one of his brothers had made and not laughed at one of his, “I’m going to teach you a real lesson.”

He tells you about the ‘training and discipline room’ on the Zenin estate later that night. A room that the family use for honing cursed techniques, both for practising and for learning purposes, when someone needs to be brought down a peg or two. It’s full of cursed spirits – all the way up to grade two, which makes your blood run cold.

Of course, you have cursed energy. You even have a careful little technique; one that would wrap your enemies up in vines, if you’d ever been allowed to train to use it for anything other than keeping your well-appointed garden neat and orderly. Naoya would not have married someone without either of those things, lest they not bear him fruitful children--

But you have never been allowed to use it for anything more.

The women of your clan are pretty decoration, with no need to learn anything other than how to behave and how to please their masters-and-husbands. You would be useless, thrown into the den of the wolves like that.

“Please don’t,” you’d said to him, your voice all soft and gentle, trying to be appeasing. “Please. I promise I’ll try harder.”

Naoya had taken your chin between thumb and forefinger, the grin across his face very sharp as his light eyes took in the pleading in your own gaze. You remember how the light had hit his earrings, the look of satisfaction at your begging and having you utterly and completely under his thumb.

“Be good,” he’d breathed, all slow and drawling. “And I won’t have to, will I?”

And he’d bid you to get on your knees for him and show you just how good you could be. Starting with your mouth.

So you know where he’s dragging you, down the labyrinthine halls of the estate. You try and pull back, feet sliding on the tatami mat, your voice pitching as you say;

“Naoya, please, I’m sorry--”

“Women should be seen and not heard,” he says to you. “Don’t make a fuss like that. You earned this.”

Your eyes are filling with tears, hot fear clawing its way up your throat.

“I’ll do anything,” you say to him, despite knowing that it’s a dangerous bargain to give him. He almost considers it for a moment, pausing – but then, his fingers just dig harder into the softness of your bicep (you’re going to bruise), and he tugs you.

“You’re making a scene,” he says. “If you don’t stop, I’ll leave you in there even longer.” You try to wrench your arm out of his grip, all of your self-defense mechanisms going into overdrive as you recognise the door he’s leading to you too. You’re breathless, so frightened you think that your heart might stop.

Naoya opens the door and pulls you in. You almost stumble at the flight of stairs, but he clicks his tongue at you in annoyance.

“So clumsy,” he drawls. “And here I was, under the impression I was marrying a graceful, lovely, credit to her family--” More steps, until he’s gotten you in the middle of the floor. He gazes around him, and you hear the low hum of a hundred cursed spirit’s voices murmuring the same things, over and over again. “The only time you’re a credit to them is with your legs spread.”

“Naoya,” you whimper, torn between pushing yourself into him for the comfort and protection that you know he can offer, or trying to tear away from him and escape the room yourself. You know the second option won’t work – he’s far faster, far stronger than you – but it’s hard to think of anything when you feel like your very survival is teetering impossibly over your head.

“If you run,” he says, still in that cold, uninterested drawl, “I’ll break one of your ankles.”

You don’t think he’s bluffing. Naoya says a lot of things, yes – but he’s also reckless and proud enough to mean them. You stand there, next to him, feeling yourself begin to tremble.

“W-why aren’t they attacking yet?” You ask him, voice very small. He looks at you pityingly.

“They’re afraid of me, obviously,” he says to you, very slowly, like he’s explaining it to somebody very stupid. “I didn’t get this good at everything by not training myself, darling.” He lets go of you, finally, a whistle escaping his pursed mouth as he rocks on the balls of his feet. He’s supremely unconcerned by your fear. “When I’m gone, they’ll come out for you.”

Your eyes fill with tears.

“What am I supposed to do?” You ask him, desperation leaking into your cracked voice. “I can’t—I can’t protect myself--”

Naoya narrows his eyes.

“You should have thought about that before you were such a pain,” he replies. And, without further ado, he turns around and begins to ascend the stairs again. You turn with him, moving forward, stumbling in your haste and ending up sprawled at the bottom of the stairs with your hand pathetically fisted into the hem of his hakama.

He looks down at you with a disgusted sneer on his face, and you hate that even with that expression his features are still unmistakably handsome.

“Let go,” he says. “Have some dignity.”

“Please,” you repeat. You can feel a fat tear spilling from the corner of your eye down the curve of your cheeks. You know the ‘dignity’ statement is a dig; the fact that you’ve heard his family members calling your clan power-hungry undignified gold-digging whores, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you can see the beginning of shadows spilling out too far into the main floor of the room. “Naoya. Please.”

He kicks out at your wrist, face twisted in distaste, and you let go to avoid it being stood on and crushed under his strength. You cradle it against your chest, looking up at him still all desperate and afraid.

“If I helped,” he said to you, “you’d never learn your lesson.” He takes a step up and turns away completely from you, as if you’re nothing more than an ignored child on the street. “It will be good for you, beloved wife. Character-building.” You hear the smirk in his voice and you hate him.

You want to strangle him. You want to beg him to protect you. You want to tear him limb from limb, but you want him to let you bury your head in his chest as he dispels the spirits with ease. You want--

The door slams shut behind him. He’s too cheerful as he throws behind him;

“Good luck!”

And you are left alone.

It takes a moment before anything slithers out from the shadows, and you clap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself screaming. The first cursed spirit is a hunched over creature with the face of a Pierrot clown, mouth stretched impossibly wide with gaping black abyss where eyes ought to be. It’s whispering something over and over to itself, but the wide mouth is so crowded with teeth that it comes out as an incomprehensible noise, dripping drool as it begins to move horrifically slowly towards you.

Oh, God. You’re not supposed to look at them, are you? You dimly recall something about many sorcerers wearing glasses so the creatures can’t tell where their gazes are, but this one has already got the scent of you; those dark pits staring at your crumpled form.

Everything you’ve ever been told in passing about jujutsu and cursed spirits and cursed technique just seems to flow out of your mind to be replaced by mind-numbing fear. You’ve not been trained for this; when your clan had arranged your marriage with Naoya, you know that they’d expected fine silken kimonos and traditional food and you being a pretty trophy on the arm of the future leader of their clan. You know they’d be horrified if they saw what was happening.

More of them are melting from the shadows, the whispering and moaning reaching a terrifying crescendo. You’re trembling. Your heart is beating so fast inside of your chest you think it might break free of your ribcage and sputter out onto the floor.

The Pierrot monster is close enough that you can see the six hands it drags on the floor are all tipped with claws that are sharp as blades. You scramble up the stairs on your ass, too afraid to turn your back on the creatures. You realise you’re shouting, but it seems just as blurred as anything that the cursed spirits are saying. You’re crying, too – howling, whimpering, so scared you’re surprised any noise is able to come out at all.

You’re going to die.

It hits you with cruel certainty as you reach the top and throw your weight at the door, only for it to not give an inch. You scramble at the heavy wood, not caring about your careful manicure (Naoya wants you to be a credit to him, and that means manicures and facial treatments and a fancy bathroom full of soaps and creams that he expects you to use and that he slathers, too, on himself). You hear a nail break but you can’t bring yourself to worry about that when the Pierrot monster is dragging itself up the flight of stairs, one step at a time. It makes a hideous sliding thump, like it’s both wet and heavy – and you notice, too, the scent of blood invading your senses.

Your tear-blurred eyes can see all of the other monsters, too – not quite as close, but still too close for comfort. Too many eyes and not enough eyes, too many legs, claws and teeth and misshapen bones and blood leaking from holes. What are you supposed to do?

Naoya has left you here, alone, to teach you a lesson. You hadn’t realised the lesson would culminate in your death, but with all of the spirits so close to you, you cannot see any other way.

All of the fight goes out of you and you sag against the door, a broken sob escaping your lips. Your throat is dry from hoarse screaming.

You are going to die. You hope it will come quick; you hope the Pierrot monster will tear you limb from limb and you’ll die in instants from the shock. Your voice whispers Naoya’s name one last, hopeless time.

Will he find another wife? Will they even bother covering up your death, or will they spin some rumour or lie to your family and the whole of jujutsu society that you brought it upon yourself?

You would do anything to be rescued right now. You would crawl on your hands and knees behind Naoya for the rest of your life, refer to him only as ‘Master’, fulfil every single thing he ever asked you with no more than a meek nod of your head. Pull out your tongue so you couldn’t make any more mistakes.

But the time for pleading seems to have gone entirely, and you are useless and stupid and weak as you run out of tears, eyes burning. All you can do, you think, is wait for death.

The door swings open behind you and you’re dragged backwards, onto tatami, by powerful hands gripping your shoulders as it closes once more with a massive clunk that echoes in your ears--

And you find yourself strewn out on the floor, face caked with dried tear-tracks, a trembling, pathetic mess looking up at your husband’s face.

He leans against the door, listening to you scream. He can hear his name mixed in with sobs and screams and pleading; saying that you’ll do anything, you’re sorry, you’ll never disobey him again you’ll take any punishment he metes out with a smile on your face, if he just helps you. He hears you call yourself weak and pathetic and useless around the tears clogging your throat; he hears the thump of you hitting the door and the sound of your nails scratching down the wood, uncaring of anything other than getting away from them.

Yes, he thinks as he opens the door for you and you fall, shivering and sobbing, in front of him. Yes, he thinks you’ve learnt your lesson.

You’re so pretty, he thinks, closing it once more (he sees the cursed spirits begin to creep back to where they came from at the very sight of him, now their preferred victim is protected), with your eyes all glassy and wet. You’re extra pretty looking at him like he’s a conquering hero who’s saved you from certain death – which he supposes he is.

You cling to his arm, pulling yourself up, burying your face in his chest as your hands cling to him like you’ve been lost and he’s the first familiar thing you’ve seen in months. Your tears soak his kimono, but . . . he finds himself not really minding, as big, lean hands pet you gently on the back.

“It’s alright now,” he soothes you, murmuring low. “Your husband has you.”

“Please, please, ‘m so sorry--” You’re mumbling into him, whimpering, your shoulders shaking. “Please never m-make me, again--”

“Shhh,” he continues, gently beginning to move towards his chambers. You cling to him, adrift in a sea of your own fears. “It’s better now. You’ll be better now, won’t you?”

He receives a fierce nod for that, your fingers twisting into his clothing. It’s nice, having you so wrapped around him; seeing him as the strong protector that he knows he is but you needed reminding of. You’re still mewling little pleas into him even as he unlocks the door to his bedroom and gently pushes you in. Letting go of him even for a moment seems to cause you physical pain--

Good. You should feel like that. You should feel incomplete without him at your side. Naoya rewards you with a rare, soft smile.

“You know why you had to be punished like that, don’t you?” He purrs to you, petting your hair and carefully drawing back so he can look at your face. Your lips are all swollen from crying and biting; he thinks you’ve never looked quite so kissable as you do right now.

“Yes,” you nod, fiercely. “I’m sorry. I’ll do a-anything, I promise. I . . .” You swallow, your eyes filling with tears again. Naoya has been hard since the moment he heard you call out his name from inside the training room, your voice filled with choked tears, and watching them well up again does nothing for the stricture against the fabric. “I needed you.”

“And I saved you,” he says, arching an elegant brow – to which you nod again, and your hands drift towards him like you’re aimless without him in front of you to serve. “I’ll protect you, darling, as long as you learn your place.”

“I will!” That’s said with such conviction that he can’t help the smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I will. N-Naoya . . .” Your voice trembles a little. “’m willing to do anything for you. J-just please . . . not again.”

“Shh,” he reaches out and deigns to touch you, to gently and soothingly rub his thumb over your cheek, where the tears have dried. “If you’re really going to be so good for me, I won’t have to, will I?” You stumble forward onto your knees and Naoya’s brows shoot up in surprise as your hands tug at his hakama.

“Please let me show you how grateful I am,” you whisper, your eyes wide and bright and desperate. “Naoya, please, please, please--”

Oh, there’s something so gratifying about you like this, begging to suck his cock. It stirs between his thighs again, reminding him that he’s painfully stiff; and you are here, a willing mouth, scared out of your skull and desperate to please him. He’s smirking at you but you do not register it as such; all you see is the smile of your rescuer.

Your protector.

Your husband.

“Say what you want to do to me, darling,” he tells you, keeping his voice as sweet as he can make it. “You’re a big girl. You can use your words. What do you want to do, to show me how grateful you are that I saved your paltry life?”

You’re pouting; your mouth is sweet, pretty. He wants to pry your jaw open and fuck the back of your throat, and his body roars as your fingers tug on the hakama again and your meek, soft voice whispers;

“Please let me suck your cock.”

“You have a dirty mouth,” he coos to you, leaning forward to brush a finger over your lower lip. “Not befitting of a woman of your station. I suppose that means that it’s up to me to keep you quiet, hmm?”

You obediently open it, letting his finger gently rest on your tongue for a moment.

Desperate to please, your mouth closes about it, your tongue gently swiping over the pad, your cheeks hollowing a little as you suck on the digit inside of them. Naoya’s smiling again, the victorious grin of someone who’s gotten exactly what they wanted. He pulls his finger out and thrusts back in with two, whispering to you;

“Do you think you deserve my cock, after what you put me through today?”

You shake your head, but you don’t stop lavishing attention on the fingers in your mouth, a string of drool falling from the corner of your mouth as he presses his third finger inside of it. So warm, and wet. He needs his cock to be inside of you or he thinks he may embarrass himself.

The fingers are pulled out, wiped on the hakama fabric, before he says (the carefully adopted tone almost disinterested);

“Take them off, then. Don’t make your promises empty words. I wouldn’t appreciate such thoughtlessness in a wife.”

You’re eager, stripping off his clothes. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of his cock; elegant, flushed, hard and straining with a light upwards curve that he knows will hit you in the right place at the back of your throat to make you gag.

“Wait,” he says, as you lean in to bring him to your lips. “What do you say, darling?”

Your eyes (still brimming with tears, he notices – and fuck, he loves how you look teary-eyed and pouting. He has to make you cry more often) meet his, but the look in yours is worshipful so he doesn’t chide you for having the insolence to meet his gaze directly.

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For saving me. For letting me suck your cock. For everything.”

Naoya is smiling.

“Good girl,” he says, placidly, as you place a delicate kiss on the head of his cock and slowly envelope it in the warmth of your mouth. “Very good.”