#The way it's the perfect opposite to how they behave in battle and with each other‚ with Akutagawa always losing his cool–

[kyouka-supremacy]

List of canon / Beast parallels that make my cry:

These are not the only mirroring panels in those scenes; but something about this specifically, about the way they turn their backs in the same way, the alike way of holding their phones, how their thoughts form the same words, hits me so hard. Being so close in everything, in the little, in the mundane, despite literally belonging to differnet universes. Something something whatever souls are made of theirs are the same.

[circeyoru]

The Only Reason _ Part 2

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Worker!Reader - Mana Chaos AU]

*Note: I got a name for the AU!! Mana Chaos!! A bit random, but I just went with it. Here’s part 2 since the part one blew up.

Part 1 — Part 2 (here)

“Have a safe trip, Personnel 002.”

“Be safe, please.”

“We’re counting on you.”

“Don’t let your guard down.”

As you expected everyone was treating you like you were the one going into a war zone and not the S-Rank Hunter that was doing the country a favour. You internally sighed while you maintained an expressionless face to all those around you bidding farewell or wishing you luck and safety. 

Honestly speaking, you were the safest person in the building, if not, in the world with the amount of Shadow soldiers Jinwoo has put into your shadow for your protection. Just the other day, you were furiously protected by none other than Beru, one of Jinwoo’s strongest general grade or was it higher? You can’t recall and Jinwoo did explain to you once, but your system overloaded and didn’t catch much.

Concerning how those soldiers came to be, it was simple. To raise them from the dead. With every battle, Jinwoo grows stronger and stronger, hence why you privately dubbed him a National Level Hunter. His army of Shadows could practically cover the entire country two or three times, maybe even more. Even give Thomas a run for his money, if they ever meet each other in a battle. It would be distaterous so you rather not come to it.

This is why you didn’t want Jinwoo in the facility at all. He has perfect control over his emotions and high morals if you don’t cross his line. He was overall peaceful even with his vast strength and power. Unlike Thomas, he was tamed and very very well-behaved, to put it simply. You had tried to get your seniors or higher-ups and colleague to understand, but they all brushed it aside, saying an S-Rank belongs here and under surveillance. 

Once, they agreed to observe Jinwoo’s tamed nature, to stop your insistence. However, it turned out horribly. You watched from the surveillance room when your unconvinced party enter Jinwoo’s cell. It all appeared normal until the straitjacket was removed from him and he started lashing out. The guards immediately tried to subdue him and rescue the innocent group from the clushes of the raging Hunter.

A chill ran down your spine as you froze up while the room darkened, an echoy whispered in your ear, “I heard you wanted to kick me out. So cold of you, really. I would have behaved if you had a work-life balance, but you are always in this insufferable building, so I have to decline.”

“You could have just told me…” You voice only came out as a mere mutter, but Jinwoo heard it loud and clear. Whatever controlled and peaceful image you have of Jinwoo gone to the drains, never to be recovered in that moment. Like anyone else, you were afraid. Not for yourself, but for those around you.

A dark chuckle rang and you felt like you were in his shadowy embrace with a weight lunched over from the back of your head down to your spine. “That was an option, but I wanted to show you my opposition to your idea. This was the best way I’ve come up with. Plus, it shows everyone here that you aren’t replaceable.” The weight was gone and the room returned to normal with his words beckoning you to him, “So come and calm me down, Personnel 002.”

Looking out the transport vehicle, you saw the streets practically empty apart from the guards stationed from place to place. You grimaced at the fearful citizens that no doubt went indoors or hid in their homes at the news. 

Whenever an S-Rank is let out of their cell into the streets, be it for fresh air or raiding an impossible dungeon for the country, the public would get news of it and warn the citizens to stay away from the gate and advised to remain indoors while the mentioned locations or roads would be purposefully used to transport the Hunter directly to the site. 

Bringing an S-Rank to an A-Rank gate or higher alone was practically giving them a death sentence. It was the government and people’s way of telling the strong Hunters to control themselves or they would die hourably in the raid while protecting their country. 

A case of such an instance was the Jeju Island Raid. An S-Rank dungeon that have failed for 4 times before an alliance was formed between the Japanese S-Rank and Korean S-Rank. The Japanese Government sent their strongest to offer support, but mostly to get rid of them because they have grown too powerful and influential. With the <Outrage Incident>, they couldn’t afford to take any chances. 

That raid had the most S-Rank Hunters in the same place, fighting the same battle. Originally, Jinwoo wasn’t present and you were with him in his cell doing paperwork while he watched the news. As sudden as it came, Jinwoo demanded to go there to help his fellow S-Rank Hunters from total annihilation. 

When you saw the murderous ant, you knew Jinwoo wanted to add him into his army. You did wonder if the people above would want help, since it was a sure-fire way to rid the S-Rank Hunters but when again without the S-Rank, who would clear the harder gates? This stupid EMI system and all the cautiousness of frightened people. 

In the end, Jinwoo’s wish was granted and you were also sent to the front lines in case Jinwoo went haywire. As drugs and medicine was proven ineffective to Jinwoo, the next best thing was you, since he held you in high regard. Not only did Jinwoo get his new soldier, who was later placed as your bodyguard, but he also somehow managed to control the other surviving S-Rank Hunters. 

What happened after was Jinwoo showing his dominance over the other S-Ranks in Korea and making himself at the top of the food chain. He’s stay mild and controlled because he wanted to. Not because you people —the public and the government— could control him. 

The vehicle stopped and your door was opened from the outside, a guard nodded and welcomed you while you got out. Your eyes looked over to the gigantic gate. 

“Feels like a date, doesn’t it?” Jinwoo’s voice brought your attention to him. Dressed in a causal manner, a shirt and pants, plus a long coat to complete his look, his stuck to his dark theme. You were quite used to him in a straitjacket that everytime he was dressed normally, you were always spellbound. He chuckled and ruffled your hair. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re looking good.” You looked away to the side, a faint blush over your cheeks. There was no use fangirling in secret when Beru or some other soldiers would report back to him and he’d have a field day the next time you visit him. You might as well be honest and tell him now to get over it.

Now it was Jinwoo’s turn to freeze up and chuckle. “Thanks.”

Amidst the careful atmosphere, you sense the guards around you two on edge with Jinwoo’s freedom to do anything and his power unrestraint. Better enter the gate before they act out of fear and trigger some ridiculous conflict. “Let’s go, do you need any gear?”

“I only need you by my side.” Jinwoo returned back to his smooth and cheeky self, smiling down at you with a soft look in his eyes. 

You physically and mentally controlled yourself so that you don’t faint from his words, reminding yourself repeatedly that you two were in public. It was hard for you to defend yourself against these attacks of his when he wasn’t in his usual dull look in the EMI. He is one handsome man. “Just say we can go…”

Jinwoo extended his hand to you and waited for you to put your hand in his, essentially you’d be putting your life in his hands because once you pass through the gate, he was your only lifeline to return in one piece. You did so without hesitation, Jinwoo will never allow harm to you and never let you out of his sight so long as he lives. You could feel the nervous and anxious glances from the guards scattered around the site from your nonchalant actions.

With a hum, Jinwoo gripped your hand in his and lead you into the gate where only he and you would be without any other humans. Truly as he said, it’d be a date where he and you could be your true selves.

“Come forth.” Jinwoo summoned his army who all appeared at his command, all kneeled and bowed their heads to him. “Like usual.” His eyes glowed a purple hue, “Leave the boss to me.”

So began the massacre while Jinwoo walked you through it all. The first time it happened, you were beyond terrified for you only knew Jinwoo was a capable S-Rank and shouldn’t be underestimated. That was the first time you’ve seen his army’s might and power. Compared to him, you and all the others in the EMI were ants, mere insects. 

How you managed to capture Jinwoo’s eyes was beyond you, but you were a lucky person to be favoured by him, to some extent. Soon, you didn’t mind Jinwoo’s little favouritism and childish acts to get you into his cell. You looked forward to it. He accepted you for who you are and given you a place, a special irreplaceable place in the world and in his heart. 

For all he has done for you, you wanted to return something for him. You even asked the soldiers in your shadow to keep it a secret from him so it was a grand surprise for him. The Jeju Island Raid that he singlehandedly cleared, you brought the island under his name with your wealth. With the help of the Shadows, you made the island habitable once more and invited some special people to live on it. 

Your hand squeezed his as you looked up to him, he momentarily took his eyes off the battlefield and stared into your eyes. “Yes?”

A rare smile spread on your face, your inner self becoming giddy and expectant of Jinwoo’s reaction. “Do you want to see your family? I’ve offered them a place to live away from all the criticism and pressure from the government and public. They’ve also been wanting to see you too, face to face.”

Jinwoo’s eyes widened. The moment he was reevaluated, he was sent to the EMI building in Korea, he was treated like an object rather than a human being. He could have lashed out, but his family was on the line and while he could use his Shadows to protect him so he has freedom, that only puts a target on his back. By then, people would want him dead for sure. 

The only solance he found in his darkness was you. The you who found out his secret and kept it to yourself, even wanting to give him back his freedom for your security, but he wanted to stay by your side instead. He thought that’s all he needed, but one day, you connected him with his family while in his cell and let him have his moment with them. 

From time to time, you’d call his family and have a video call to let him and his beloved mother and sister chat together while you work in the corner with music playing in your headphones connected to your other device to give him privacy. A luxury he never could have with the protocols of EMI.

He was grateful for all you’ve done for him. Genuinely and absolutely. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

Note: I seriously did NOT think there would be another part. You guys liked part 1 a lot and I have no idea why. Welp, here's part 2. Not sure about a part 3, but I'll see how this one goes. Enjoy~!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (these are the people from Part 1's comment section)

@stupendouspizzacomputer @xiannars

[ecargmura]

Buddy Daddies Episode 8 Review: Something Worth Protecting

This episode showed and told so much that it’s almost perfection in storytelling and development. I’m just dreading for what’s to come because of what was shown in the ending.

You can check out this review on my blog, but if you don't want to read it there, continue below.

The episode centers around Rei. We learn a lot more about the Suwa family as Shigeki, Rei’s father, wants Rei to return home and succeed the family business. The conflict between Rei and Shigeki is actually very interesting to watch. Shigeki only sees Rei as a tool for their dark world while Rei is a shadow that found light in Kazuki and Miri. Shigeki is unable to love while Rei is able to, albeit slowly.

The organization looks down on love and positive feelings in general, only to find them pointless. Rei’s mentor Satoru was once a man who held the organization’s ideals but found love; unfortunately, his lover was murdered. Rei is slowly walking his mentor’s path as he found something to protect as well—Kazuki and Miri. The action sequences between Rei and Satoru were amazing and well animated. I was amazed with how fluid it was, especially given that the two fight so similarly.

Throughout the show, Rei is seen as a bit aloof and lazy, but the episode shows that the laziness is from the fact that he was a barely functioning adult when he ran away from home. Meeting Kazuki changed all that. This episode also showed Rei and Kazuki’s first meeting, which lead to Kazuki going into Rei’s house and caring for him by cleaning the garbage dump of his apartment, adding in bright furniture to liven up the atmosphere, bathing him, cutting his hair and feeding him a well balanced meal. I’m sure that Kazuki’s kindness melted Rei’s cold heart and why he behaves like he does now; Rei is someone who likes to be taken care of and he probably didn’t realize this until Kazuki, someone who likes caring of others, came into his life.

The heartfelt talk that the two had towards the end of the episode cemented how much they care for each other. Rei’s not an open person, but it’s obvious that Kazuki is dear to him—he’s the reason Rei became a functioning person after all. During the conversation with Rei and Shigeki, Rei defended Kazuki by saying that his bond with Kazuki isn’t pointless. I think this is a powerful statement. Remember that in Japan, people on casual terms usually address each other by their surnames. Kazuki and Rei are on first name basis with each other, signifying a close bond; also note that Rei is three years younger than Kazuki. If he was on casual terms, he would’ve just addressed Kazuki as Kurusu or Kurusu-san, but he doesn’t and Kazuki doesn’t mind at all. It might not mean much, but the fact that Rei referred to Kazuki as “Kazuki” in front of his father shows a lot in details.

Another subplot for this episode is Kazuki and Miri preparing a surprise birthday party for Rei. I think the way they used Kazuki and Miri’s screen time to give some background on Rei is creative. Miri is quite perceptive in this episode as she laments that Rei still has some sadness inside of him; she knows this because she has seen her mother behave the same way whenever she drinks. With how Miri behaved in episode 6, we can see that Miri is a lot more mature than she lets on. I like this side of Miri. It shows that while she’s still childlike and innocent, she’s mature and is maturing.

Ryo Ogino is a very creepy villain. He is someone who likes collecting dead target’s last words. I like how there’s strong buildup of him being the final villain or the penultimate one as he’s Rei’s opposite in every way. Ogino likes “concepts” while Rei was once a “concept” but grew into an actual human being. While I am scared for what’s to come, I’m anticipating the battle between Rei and Ogino because I know for a fact that Rei will never let anything bad happen to his real family.

Buddy Daddies episodes always end on wholesome notes, but this one ended on a scary note. Kyutaro gets a picture from Ogino who is requesting information about…Kazuki and Miri. Oh shit. No. No. NO! I predict Rei will finally let go of the shackles of his past and abuse to protect the two people he loves the most. This is only episode 8. There are 13 episodes for this show. Why are we walking the angst path this early? I pray nothing bad happens to Kazuki and Miri. I am clasping my hands as I dread for next Friday to come.

[myimaginarywonderland]

Okay. Pretty sure you completely missed my point, so let me make it clearer.

First of all, I am not one to talk about Lewis skill as a driver nor do I want to speak on where he stands in the record books. That's not something that I will ever talk about nor does it have anything to do with the post I made.

As for your comment about not praising each other when they are competing, obviously a recent example would be Max and Charles. Yes Charles "dropped out" of the title fight after France but they were still racing each other wheel to wheel at almost every race, there was never one negative thing they said about each other. Even when the title battle was on in the first half of the season everyone was impressed by how good and respectful their relationship was. So no, it's clearly not this ridiculous impossible thing you seem to think it is. Unlike Lewis some drivers can be competitive without completely ruining their relationships with other drivers.

Again, as for Lewis' skills or records as a driver, it's not something I ever talk about, does he have anything to prove? Don't know and I honestly don't care. I am sick of this victim narrative that people are constantly putting forward. The sport is not against him, yes he lost a championship because a race director made a decision that didn't go his way. Unlike other times when the opposite happened, he simply wasn't lucky this day and Max was. It certainly wasn't a coordinated attack and a pre-planned mission to stop Lewis from getting his 8th championship. He is also constantly getting away with the stuff he does during race weekends, with stewards reluctant to ever penalize him for anything. Jesus they changed the rules of how the cars are meant to be designed because he had a backache. "The sport is against him"?! Come on!

What you don't seem to understand is that I am not on a mission to "change" Lewis, I have no "expectations" of how he is supposed to behave. He is a grown adult. My problem is how his behavior is portrayed, because I am sick of the Max is the bad guy/Lewis is the good guy narrative that has been showed down our throats for 2 years now. What is very clear even in your post is that anything Lewis does you will find a way to excuse or twist into making him out to be an " poor angel victim who never did anyone wrong". You wrote literally paragraphs upon paragraphs of his "growth", "maturity", "Lewis was the bigger person", exaggerating any even remotely "good thing" he did into some kind of gift from God himself. Clearly you see Lewis showing praise to "some" drivers as something more than it actually is. The only drivers Lewis genuinely praised are the ones he never came up against and the ones that never challenged him.

I mean just reading your post you are apparently willing to accept that no one is perfect, especially athletes in high pressure situations, but when it comes to Lewis you don't want to admit that he was that petty, angry and jealous person who blamed Max for Abu Dhabi and took it out on him any chance he got, instead opting to call him "mature".

Also what does Max' "driving style" have to do with Lewis, what he can only be happy when a driver with the same style as his wins? I also wouldn't jump so soon on that high horse after the very reckless and messy season Lewis had.

"Lewis isn't flat about being mean", I mean this is just gaslighting. Okay maybe he wasn't being "mean" but he was rude and very aware of what he was doing anytime he brought up Abu Dhabi and how that would reflect on Max. Maybe there was one or two situations last year where Lewis acknowledged Max' talent, but let's be honest, there were so many more situations when he picked his words carefully knowing he was undermining Max and fueling all the negative narratives about him. For example, "Two sensible drivers going through copse.." was a clear dig at Max and a completely unprovoked one at that, he gave an interview where he talked about how scared he is for his fans to go to races like Spa, Austria and Holland because of Max fans, again something that clearly reflects badly on Max. When he again wasn't asked about it, but on his own decided to talk about how "he took the time to explain the importance of the BLM movement to Max" and according to him Max "didn't care". "You know how it is with Max" comment in Brazil even though Max had the cleanest season of all drivers last year. Praising the car not because he was genuinely admiring it, but because he knew it undermined Max' season and all the records he was breaking, he knew better than anyone how it is when people call out the car as the sole reason why you are successful. Let's also not forget the several cheap shots he took at Fernando as well. I'm sure there's other examples but honestly I have other things I want to say so I'll just leave it at these.

My point is, and the reason why I made that post is because people like you will eat up this 100% PR prepared interview where someone quoted him saying something nice about Max and use that to paint Lewis as the respectful one the next time something happens between them, which inevitably will. I however see right through what it is and I am not so quick to forget just how petty, jealous and mean spirited he was towards Max last year.

I would not talk about Max early years in the sport if I were you, because Lewis didn't come out too good in that particular department either. People are maybe willing to forget how aggressive and dangerous he was at Mclaren, but I'm not. Oh, an please bring up times when Max was disrespectful to Lewis, I would love to see it, because I as a hard core Max fan have a hard time thinking of any examples, much less "hundreds".

My focus isn't on what Lewis said in any given situation, you completely missed the point. I wanted to show Lewis' hypocrisy and pathetic attempts at gaslighting us to clean up his image before the new season starts. I am not going to praise Lewis for how "incredible" it is that he is praising Max, because it's all fake and done purely for PR, he's hoping to fight with him up front and he wants to make sure he is once again portrayed as the "good guy" in the media. Hope you understand it now.

Hey, coming back to your answer late but still.

I think Lewis sucess is directly tied to anything he does. It goes hand in hand with how he is treated, how he treats others etc but okay, I can try to separate that.

I have seen Max and Charles as an example many times but it simply doesn't count for me because their racing styles are so similar. Charles has literally said he will commit, that he is not someone to back down from a fight. At the same time they have known each other for years. They know exactly what kind of thing the other would do and they also grew up together in a way which obviously will make their relationship different. But also: There were rarely any fights between them actually. Yes the title fight for was on but there were no direct fights (as far as I can remember.)

I also think it's important to note how Max came into the sport. He was young, a dangerous driver and a big risk taker. Sure the nicknames about him aren't nice but there was a truth to them and you have to consider that. Now, add into 2021, the first time Lewis has been in any challenge since 2018 (where things also got heated.) Lewis is about to break history records (or so at least we believe) and then suddenly RedBull is in the fight and it seems like both Max and Lewis have reverted to younger selves again.

I already mentioned 2018 and how immature two very established drivers seemed at that time and look at them now. They both learned, grew up and have a complelty new respect after being away from the title battle.

I get that you think people victimise him but that is not the case at all. Lewis is quite literally the one who has ever been the sport that is black. Well, Pascal was there but the horrible racism he experienced literally pushed him out of the sport. And it is not about in whose favour that decision went (although I doubt it would have ever been the reverse scenario.) It is about the danger all the drivers where put in, the way rules where compeltly broken and bend to get an exciting finish that was a robbery. That had nothing to do with luck and everything to do with the FIA. We can disagree why it happened but l think when over 70+ of people agree that it was wrong and it becomes bigger than the sport itself the reason is sure as hell not right.

I will not even go into that second part because I honest to God have no idea what you are talking about and even if I did I would be flabbergasted at it.

I can also clearly see that whatever Lewis fans will say, will just not change you. I don't think Lewis is perfect, I will call him out on anything he ever does wrong. But I think it's important to look at both Lewis and Seb as drivers who became bigger than the sport and truly showed growth.

Is Max a bad guy? Well, that depends. For me he is a bad person because of the political opinions or problematic comments he made. Doesn't make him a bad guy in driving but of course that personally influences my opinion.

Is it easy to push that label onto Max? Of course. His driving still is definitely more reckless and dangerous than some others, he still is young and makes mistakes + his behaviour wasn't the best.

Does the label then apply? I don't think so because at the end of the day, he is just all the other drivers. Many of them would resort to questionable maneuvers for a championship.

Is Lewis a good guy? For me he is the closest I would want a driver to be to an actual good person.

Is it easy to call him that? Of course. But does that make him one? No.

Because at the end of the day both him and Max showed good and bad moments in 2021.

I personally don't remember Max blaming Abu Dhabi on Max. What I do distinctly remember is him congratulating Max even after all that and then complelty going silent for months/weeks and distancing himself in order to process what had happened to him. And when he spoke up about how he felt in all of it (like he had the right to) he was ridiculed from everywhere.

It's been a while so I don't remember exactly what I meant but I think it's rich coming to me to call me out for my fan behaviour when it is so easy for you to make negative comments about Lewis performance. That's all I'll say to that.

I am not having that discussion. Lewis bringing and talking about Abu Dhabi has absolutely 0 to do with Max other than him winning. It has everything to do with how Lewis felt, how the rules where broken, how Lewis had his championship taken last minute and how deeply that but also the entire season affected him. It also has everything to do with how Lewis is openly speaking about his feelings, something that was always a tabu in the sport.

I am not saying Lewis didn't give comments that might be in pure taste. That much is clear and expected. Why should he always have to be professional? I think we should normalise all drivers being a little mean. They are human and I think that they will not always be nice is expected. Does it always make that right? No but they shouldn't be shamed for small little comments.

I could make an entire post how that comment has nothing to do with Max and how many people will also feel that way at other races in other circuits and how more drivers should address it but let me say: I 100% stand by what Lewis said.

You are really blaming a black driver for voicing his frustration at a white driver not caring about BLM? Really?

Again, those comments are all true. Max has in been the past for more likely to crash/clash because of his driving. Nothing but facts. Did he grow out of that? I mean he certainly isn't as reckless or immature as in 2016. Then again, don't use 2022 because Max genuinely had no competition for 70% of that season. I'll give you some leverage on that last one although I think praising the car is true because it clearly was better in the race but indeed Max deserves that credit because he was really the only one showing how great the car is.

Lewis and Fernando is a completely different story that trust me, you do not want to get into unless you wanna talk about how horrible the Spanish fan base there was and probably to some extent still is.

Okay, congrats you can see what apparently I can't, you want a cookie now? Or do you want me to point at the hypocrisy in that? Lewis isn't flawless, we can agree on that.

I don't think Lewis was any better when he wad younger and I never want to claim that. But they came into the sport under very different circumstances and let's just say Max didn't help his case. (I am also not blaming him for them, this is merely a fact.)

I could probably make a list but why would I bother when I can just say that they were both pretty and mean sometimes? Because it was a high competitive time for them where everyone tired to find their flaws and pit them against each other?

I understand that you are a Verstappen who apparently blames me for seeing only with Lewis glasses yet you can also see everything through Verstappen glasses. We fundamentally disagree and I don't think there is anything you can do to make me see your point of view.

Oh, and just for fun, here's some drivers who Lewis apparently only praised because they aren't threats:

Seb

Nico

Valtteri

Charles

Carlos

Lando

George

Pierre

Checo

[iamshwee]

SHADOW WORK: The Ultimate Guide

I. Why Focusing Only on the Light is a Form of Escapism

For most of my life, I’ve grown up firmly believing that the only thing worthy of guiding me was “light” and “love.” Whether through the family environment I was raised in, or the cultural myths I was brought up clinging to, I once believed that all you really needed to do in life to be happy was to focus on everything beautiful, positive and spiritually “righteous.” I’m sure you were raised believing a similar story as well. It’s a sort of “Recipe for Well-Being.”

But a few years ago, after battling ongoing mental health issues, I realized something shocking:

I was wrong.

Not just wrong, but completely and utterly off the mark. Focusing only on “love and light” will not heal your wounds on a deep level. In fact, I’ve learned through a lot of heavy inner work, that not only is focusing solely on “holiness” in life one side of the equation, but it is actually a form of spiritually bypassing your deeper, darker problems that, let me assure you, almost definitely exist.

It is very easy and comfortable to focus only on the light side of life. So many people in today’s world follow this path. And while it might provide some temporary emotional support, it doesn’t reach to the depths of your being: it doesn’t transform you at a core level. Instead, it leaves you superficially hanging onto warm and fuzzy platitudes which sound nice, but don’t enact any real change.

What DOES touch the very depths of your being, however, is exploring your Shadow.

II. What is the Human Shadow?

In short, the human shadow is our dark side; our lost and forgotten disowned self. 

Your shadow is the place within you that contains all of your secrets, repressed feelings, primitive impulses, and parts deemed “unacceptable,” shameful, “sinful” or even “evil.” 

This dark place lurking within your unconscious mind also contains suppressed and rejected emotions such as rage, jealousy, hatred, greed, deceitfulness, and selfishness.

So where did the Shadow Self idea originate? The concept was originally coined and explored by Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, Carl Jung. In Jung’s own words:

“Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.”

When the human Shadow is shunned, it tends to undermine and sabotage our lives. Addictions, low self-esteem, mental illness, chronic illnesses, and various neuroses are all attributed to the Shadow Self. When our Shadows are suppressed or repressed in the unconscious long enough, they can even overtake our entire lives and causes psychosis or extreme forms of behavior like cheating on one’s partner or physically harming others. Intoxicants such as alcohol and drugs also have a tendency to unleash the Shadow.

Thankfully, there is a way to explore the Shadow and prevent it from devouring our existence, and that is called Shadow Work.

III. What is Shadow Work?

Shadow work is the process of exploring your inner darkness or “Shadow Self.” As mentioned previously, your Shadow Self is part of your unconscious mind and contains everything you feel ashamed of thinking and feeling, as well as every impulse, repressed idea, desire, fear, and perversion that for one reason or another, you have “locked away” consciously or unconsciously. Often this is done as a way of keeping yourself tame, likable, and “civilized” in the eyes of others.

Shadow work is the attempt to uncover everything that we have hidden and every part of us that has been disowned and rejected within our Shadow Selves. 

Why? Because without revealing to ourselves what we have hidden, we remain burdened with problems such as anger, guilt, shame, disgust, and grief.

All throughout the history of mankind Shadow Work has played a powerful yet mysterious and occult role in helping us discover what is causing us mental illness, physical dis-ease and even insanity resulting in crimes of all kinds.

Traditionally, Shadow Work fell in the realm of the Shamans, or medicine people, as well as the priests and priestesses of the archaic periods of history.  These days, Shadow Work falls more commonly in the realms of psychotherapy, with psychologists, psychiatrists, spiritual guides, and therapists.

IV. Do We All Have a Shadow Self?

Yes, we ALL have a Shadow Self.

As uncomfortable as it may sound, there is a dark side within every human being. Why is this the case? The reason why all human beings have a shadow is due to the way we were raised as human beings, often referred to as our ‘conditioning.’

“But I’m a good person! I don’t have a ‘shadow’ side,” you might be thinking. Well, the reality is that yes, you might be a good person. In fact, you might be the most generous, loving, and selfless person in the entire world. You might feed the hungry, save puppies, and donate half of your salary to the poor. But that doesn’t exclude you from having a Shadow. 

There are no exceptions here. 

The nature of being human is to possess both a light and a dark side, and we need to embrace that.

Sometimes, when people hear that they have a Shadow side (or when it is pointed out), there is a lot of denial. We have been taught to perceive ourselves in a very two-dimensional and limited way. We have been taught that only criminals, murderers, and thieves have a Shadow side.

This black and white thinking is one of the major causes of our suffering.

If the thought of having a Shadow side disturbs you, take a moment to consider whether you have developed an idealized self. 

Signs of an idealized self include attitudes such as:

·   “I’m not like those people, I’m better.”

·  “I have never strayed.”

·  “God is proud of me.”

·  “Criminals and wrongdoers aren’t human.”

·  “Everyone sees how good I am (even so, I have to remind them).”

·  “I’m a role model.”

·  “I should be validated and applauded for my good deeds.”

·  “I don’t have bad thoughts, so why do others?”

Such perceptions about oneself are unrealistic, unhealthy, and largely delusional. The only way to find inner peace, happiness, authentic love, self-fulfillment, and Illumination is to explore our Shadow.

V. How is Our Shadow Side Formed?

Your Shadow side is formed in childhood and is both (a) a product of natural ego development, and (b) a product of conditioning or socialization. Socialization is the process of learning to behave in a way that is acceptable to society.

When we are born, we are are all full of potential, with the ability to survive and develop in a variety of ways. As time goes on, we learn more and more to become a certain type of person. Slowly, due to our circumstances and preferences, we begin to adopt certain character traits and reject others. For example, if we are born into a family that shows little interpersonal warmth, we will develop personality traits that make us self-sufficient and perhaps standoffish or mind-oriented. If we are born into a family that rewards compliance and shuns rebellion, we will learn that being submissive works, and thus adopt that as part of our ego structure.

As authors and Jungian therapists, Steve Price and David Haynes write:

“But, as we develop our ego-personality, we also do something else at the same time. What has happened to all those parts of our original potential that we didn’t develop? They won’t just cease to exist: they will still be there, as potential or as partly developed, then rejected, personality attributes, and they will live on in the unconscious as an alternative to the waking ego. So, by the very act of creating a specifically delineated ego-personality, we have also created its opposite in the unconscious. This is the shadow. Everyone has one.”

As we can see, developing the Shadow Self is a natural part of development.

But you also formed an alter ego due to social conditioning, i.e. your parents, family members, teachers, friends, and society at large all contributed to your Shadow.

How?

Well here’s the thing: polite society operates under certain rules. In other words, certain behaviors and characteristics are approved of, while others are shunned. Take anger for example. Anger is an emotion that is commonly punished while growing up. Throwing tantrums, swearing, and destroying things was frowned upon by our parents and teachers. Therefore, many of us learned that expressing anger was not “OK.” Instead of being taught healthy ways to express our anger, we were punished sometimes physically (with smacks or being grounded), and often emotionally (withdrawal of love and affection).

There are countless behaviors, emotions, and beliefs that are rejected in society, and thus, are rejected by ourselves. In order to fit in, be accepted, approved, and loved, we learned to act a certain way. We adopted a role that would ensure our mental, emotional, and physical survival. But at the same time, wearing a mask has consequences. What happened to all the authentic, wild, socially taboo, or challenging parts of ourselves? They were trapped in the Shadow.

What happens as we grow up?

Through time, we learn to both enjoy, and despise, our socially-approved egos because, on the one hand, they make us feel good and “lovable,” but on the other hand, they feel phony and inhibited.

Therapist Steve Wolf has a perfect analogy that describes this process:

“Each of us is like Dorian Gray. We seek to present a beautiful, innocent face to the world; a kind, courteous demeanor; a youthful, intelligent image. And so, unknowingly but inevitably, we push away those qualities that do not fit the image, that does not enhance our self-esteem and make us stand proud but, instead, bring us shame and make us feel small. We shove into the dark cavern of the unconscious those feelings that make us uneasy — hatred, rage, jealousy, greed, competition, lust, shame — and those behaviors that are deemed wrong by the culture — addiction, laziness, aggression, dependency — thereby creating what could be called shadow content. Like Dorian’s painting, these qualities ultimately take on a life of their own, forming an invisible twin that lives just behind our life, or just beside it …”

But while the Shadow Self may be portrayed as our “evil twin,” it is not entirely full of “bad” stuff. There is actually gold to be found within the Shadow.

VI. What is the Golden Shadow?

Jung once states that “the shadow is ninety percent pure gold.” What this means is that there are many beautiful gifts offered to us by our Shadow side if we take the time to look. For example, so much of our creative potential is submerged within our darkness because we were taught when little to reject it.

Not everything within our Shadow is doom and gloom. In fact, the Shadow contains some of our most powerful gifts and talents, such as our artistic, sexual, competitive, innovative, and even intuitive aptitudes.

The ‘Golden Shadow’ also presents us with the opportunity for tremendous psychological and spiritual growth. By doing Shadow Work, we learn that every single emotion and wound that we possess has a gift to share with us. Even the most obnoxious, “ugly,” or shameful parts of ourselves provide a path back to Oneness. Such is the power of the Shadow – it is both a terrifying journey, but is ultimately a path to Enlightenment or Illumination. Every spiritual path needs Shadow Work to prevent the issues from happening that we’ll explore next.

VII. What Happens When You Reject Your Shadow?

When shadow-work is neglected, the soul feels dry, brittle, like an empty vessel. — S. Wolf

Rejecting, suppressing, denying, or disowning your Shadow, whether consciously or unconsciously, is a dangerous thing. The thing about the Shadow Self is that it seeks to be known. It yearns to be understood, explored, and integrated. It craves to be held in awareness. The longer the Shadow stays buried and locked in its jail cell deep within the unconscious, the more it will find opportunities to make you aware of its existence.

Both religion and modern spirituality tend to focus on the “love and light” aspects of spiritual growth to their own doom. 

This over-emphasis on the fluffy, transcendental, and feel-good elements of a spiritual awakening results in shallowness and phobia of whatever is too real, earthy, or dark.

Spiritually bypassing one’s inner darkness results in a whole range of serious issues. Some of the most common and reoccurring Shadow issues that appear in the spiritual/religious community include pedophilia among priests, financial manipulation of followers among gurus, and of course, megalomania, narcissism, and God complexes among spiritual teachers.

Other issues that arise when we reject our Shadow side can include:

·  Hypocrisy (believing and supporting one thing, but doing the other)

·  Lies and self-deceit (both towards oneself and others)

·  Uncontrollable bursts of rage/anger

·  Emotional and mental manipulation of others

·  Greed and addictions

·  Phobias and obsessive compulsions

·  Racist, sexist, homophobic, and other offensive behavior

·  Intense anxiety

·  Chronic psychosomatic illness

·  Depression (which can turn into suicidal tendencies)

·  Sexual perversion

·  Narcissistically inflated ego

·  Chaotic relationships with others

·  Self-loathing

·  Self-absorption

·  Self-sabotage

… and many others. This is by no means a comprehensive list (and there are likely many other issues out there). As we’ll learn next, one of the greatest ways we reject our Shadow is through psychological projection.

VIII. The Shadow and Projection (a Dangerous Mix)

One of the biggest forms of Shadow rejection is something called projection.

Projection is a term that refers to seeing things in others that are actually within ourselves.

When we pair projection and the Shadow Self together, we have a dangerous mix. Why? Because as psychotherapist Robert A. Johnson writes:

“We generally seek to punish that which reminds us most uncomfortable about the part of ourselves that we have not come to terms with, and we often ‘see’ these disowned qualities in the world around us.”

There are many different ways we ‘punish’ those who are mirrors of our Shadow qualities. We may criticize, reject, hate, dehumanize, or even in extreme cases, physically or psychologically seek to destroy them (think of countries who go at war with the “enemies”). None of us are innocent in this area. We have ALL projected parts of our rejected self onto others. In fact, Shadow projection is a major cause of relationship dysfunction and break down.

If we are seeking to bring peace, love, and meaning to our lives, we absolutely MUST reclaim these projections. Through Shadow Work, we can explore exactly what we have disowned.

IX. Twelve Benefits of Shadow Work

Firstly, I want to say that I have the highest respect for Shadow Work. It is the single most important path I’ve taken to uncover my core wounds, core beliefs, traumas, and projections. I have also observed how Shadow Work has helped to create profound clarity, understanding, harmony, acceptance, release, and inner peace in the lives of others. It is truly deep work that makes changes on the Soul level targeting the very roots of our issues, not just the superficial symptoms.

There is SO much to be gained from making Shadow Work a part of your life, and daily routine. Here are some of the most commonly experienced benefits:

1.     Deeper love and acceptance of yourself

2.     Better relationships with others, including your partner and children

3.     More confidence to be your authentic self

4.     More mental, emotional, and spiritual clarity

5.     Increased compassion/understanding for others = who you dislike

6.     Enhanced creativity

7.     Discovery of hidden gifts and talents

8.     Deepened understanding of your passions and ultimate life purpose

9.     Improved physical and mental health

10.   More courage to face the unknown and truly live life

11.   Access to your Soul or Higher Self

12.   A feeling of Wholeness

It’s important to remember that there are no quick fixes in Shadow Work, so these life-changing benefits don’t just happen overnight. But with persistence, they will eventually emerge and bless your life.

X. Seven Tips for Approaching Shadow Work

Before you begin Shadow Work, you need to assess whether you’re ready to embark on this journey. Not everyone is prepared for this deep work, and that’s fine. We’re all at different stages. So pay attention to the following questions and try to answer them honestly:

·        Have you practiced self-love yet?

o   If not, Shadow Work will be too overwhelming for you. I have starred this bullet point because it is essential for you to consider. Shadow Work should not be attempted by those who have poor self-worth or struggle with self-loathing. In other words: if you struggle with severely low self-esteem, please do not attempt Shadow Work. I emphatically warn you against doing it. Why? If you struggle with extremely poor self-worth, exploring your Shadow will likely make you feel ten times worse about yourself. Before you walk this path, you absolutely must establish a strong and healthy self-image. No, you don’t have to think you’re God’s gift to the world, but having average self-worth is important. Try taking this self-esteem test to explore whether you’re ready (but first, don’t forget to finish this article!).

·        Are you prepared to make time? 

o   Shadow Work is not a lukewarm practice. You are either all in or all out. Yes, it is important to take a break from it from time to time. But Shadow Work requires dedication, self-discipline, and persistence. Are you willing to intentionally carve out time each day to dedicate to it? Even just ten minutes a day is a good start.

·        Are you looking to be validated or to find the truth? 

o   As you probably know by now, Shadow Work isn’t about making you feel special. It isn’t like typical spiritual paths that are focused on the feel-good. No, Shadow Work can be brutal and extremely confronting. This is a path for truth seekers, not those who are seeking to be validated.

·        Seek to enter a calm and neutral space. 

o   It is important to try and relax when doing Shadow Work. Stress and judgmental or critical attitudes will inhibit the process. So please try to incorporate a calming meditation or mindfulness technique into whatever you do.

·        Understand that you are not your thoughts. 

o   You need to realize that you are not your thoughts for Shadow Work to be healing and liberating. Only from your calm and quiet Center (also known as your Soul) can you truly be aware of your Shadow aspects. By holding them in awareness, you will see them clearly for what they are, and realize that they ultimately don’t define you; they are simply rising and falling mental phenomena.

·        Practice self-compassion.

o   It is of paramount importance to incorporate compassion and self-acceptance into your Shadow Work practice. Without showing love and understanding to yourself, it is easy for Shadow Work to backfire and make you feel terrible. So focus on generating self-love and compassion, and you will be able to release any shame and embrace your humanity.

·        Record everything you find. 

o   Keep a written journal or personal diary in which you write down, or draw, your discoveries. Recording your dreams, observations, and analysis will help you to learn and grow more effectively. You’ll also be able to keep track of your process and make important connections.

 XI. How to Practice Shadow Work

There are many Shadow Work techniques and exercises out there. In this guide, I will provide a few to help you start off. I’ll also share a few examples from my own life:

1. Pay attention to your emotional reactions

In this practice, you’ll learn that what you give power to has power over you. Let me explain:

One Shadow Work practice I enjoy a great deal is paying attention to everything that shocks, disturbs, and secretly thrills me. Essentially, this practice is about finding out what I’ve given the power to in my life unconsciously, because: what we place importance in – whether good or bad – says a lot about us.

The reality is that what we react to, or what makes us angry and distressed, reveals extremely important information to us about ourselves.

For example, by following where my “demons” have taken me – whether in social media, family circles, workspaces, and public places – I have discovered two important things about myself. The first one is that I’m a control freak; I hate feeling vulnerable, powerless and weak . . . it quite simply scares the living hell out of me. How did I discover this? Through my intense dislike of witnessing rape scenes in movies and TV shows, my negative reaction to novel experiences (e.g. roller coaster rides, public speaking, etc.), as well as my discomfort surrounding sharing information about my life with others in conversations. Also, by following where my “demons” have guided me I’ve discovered that I’m being burdened by an exasperating guilt complex that I developed through my religious upbringing. Apart of me wants to feel unworthy because that is what I’ve developed a habit of feeling since childhood (e.g. “You’re a sinner,” “It’s your fault Jesus was crucified”), and therefore, that is what I secretly feel comfortable with feeling: unworthy. So my mind nit-picks anything I might have done “wrong,” and I’m left with the feeling of being “bad” – which I’m used to, but nevertheless, this is destructive for my well-being.

Thanks to this practice, I have welcomed more compassion, mindfulness, and forgiveness into my life.

Paying attention to your emotional reactions can help you to discover exactly how your core wounds are affecting you on a daily basis.

How to Pay Attention to Your Emotional Reactions

To effectively pay attention to your emotional reactions (I call it “following the trail of your inner demons”), you first need to cultivate:

1. Self-awareness

Without being conscious of what you’re doing, thinking, feeling, and saying, you won’t progress very far.

If, however, you are fairly certain that you’re self-aware (or enough to start the process), you will then need to:

2. Adopt an open mindset

You will need to have the courage and willingness to observe EVERYTHING uncomfortable you place importance in, and ask “why?” What do I mean by the phrase “placing importance in”? By this, I mean that, whatever riles, shocks, infuriates, disturbs and terrifies you, you must pay attention to. Closely.

Likely, you will discover patterns constantly emerging in your life. For example, you might be outraged or embarrassed every time sex appears in a TV show or movie you like (possibly revealing sexual repression or mistaken beliefs about sex that you’ve adopted throughout life). Or you might be terrified of seeing death or dead people (possibly revealing your resistance to the nature of life or childhood trauma). Or you might be disgusted by alternative political, sexual, and spiritual lifestyles (possibly revealing your hidden desire to do the same).

There are so many possibilities out there, and I encourage you to go slowly, take your time, and one by one pick through what you place importance in.

“But I DON’T place importance in gross, bad or disturbing things in life, how could I? I don’t care for them!” you might be asking.

Well, think for a moment. If you didn’t place so much importance on what makes you angry, disgusted or upset . . . why would you be reacting to it so much? The moment you emotionally react to something is the moment you have given that thing power over you. Only that which doesn’t stir up emotions in us is not important to us.

See what you respond to and listen to what your Shadow is trying to teach you.

2. Artistically Express Your Shadow Self

Art is the highest form of self-expression and is also a great way to allow your Shadow to manifest itself.  Psychologists often use art therapy as a way to help patients explore their inner selves.

Start by allowing yourself to feel (or drawing on any existing) dark emotions. Choose an art medium that calls to you such as pen and pencil, watercolor, crayon, acrylic paint, scrapbooking, sculpting, etc. and draw what you feel. You don’t need to consider yourself an ‘artist’ to benefit from this activity. You don’t even need to plan what you’ll create. Just let your hands, pen, pencil, or paintbrush do the talking. The more spontaneous, the better. Artistic expression can reveal a lot about your obscure darker half. Psychologist Carl Jung (who conceptualized the Shadow Self idea) was even famous for using mandalas in his therapy sessions.

3. Start a Project

The act of creation can be intensely frustrating and can give birth to some of your darker elements such as impatience, anger, blood-thirsty competitiveness, and self-doubt. At the same time, starting a project also allows you to experience feelings of fulfillment and joy.

If you don’t already have a personal project that you’re undertaking (such as building something, writing a book, composing music, mastering a new skill), find something you would love to start doing. Using self-awareness and self-exploration during the process of creation, you will be able to reap deeper insights into your darkness. Ask yourself constantly, “What am I feeling and why?” Notice the strong emotions that arise during the act of creation, both good and bad. You will likely be surprised by what you find!

For example, as a person who considers myself non-competitive, that assumption has been challenged by the act of writing this blog. Thanks to this project, the Shadow within me of ruthless competitiveness has shown its face, allowing me to understand myself more deeply.

4. Write a Story or Keep a Shadow Journal

Goethe’s story Faust is, in my opinion, one of the best works featuring the meeting of an ego and his Shadow Self.  His story details the life of a Professor who becomes so separated and overwhelmed by his Shadow that he comes to the verge of suicide, only to realize that the redemption of the ego is solely possible if the Shadow is redeemed at the same time.

Write a story where you project your Shadow elements onto the characters – this is a great way to learn more about your inner darkness.  If stories aren’t your thing, keeping a journal or diary every day can shine a light on the darker elements of your nature.  Reading through your dark thoughts and emotions can help you to recover the balance you need in life by accepting both light and dark emotions within you.

5. Explore Your Shadow Archetypes

We have several Shadow varieties, also called Shadow Archetypes. These archetypes are sometimes defined as:

·        The Sorcerer/Alchemist

·        The Dictator

·        The Victim

·        The Shadow Witch

·        The Addict

·        The Idiot

·        The Trickster

·        The Destroyer

·        The Slave

·        The Shadow Mother

·        The Hag

·        The Hermit

However, I have my own Shadow Archetype classification, which I will include below.

13 Shadow Archetypes

Here are my thirteen classifications which are based on my own self-observations and analysis of others:

1.  The Egotistical Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: arrogance, egocentricity, pompousness, inconsiderateness, self-indulgence, narcissism, excessive pride.

2.  The Neurotic Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: paranoia, obsessiveness, suspiciousness, finicky, demanding, compulsive behavior.

3.  The Untrustworthy Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: secretive, impulsive, frivolous, irresponsible, deceitful, unreliable.

4.  The Emotionally Unstable Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: moody, melodramatic, weepy, overemotional, impulsive, changeable.

5.  The Controlling Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: suspicious, jealous, possessive, bossy, obsessive.

6.  The Cynical Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: negative, overcritical, patronizing, resentful, cantankerous.

7.  The Wrathful Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: ruthless, vengeful, bitchy, quick-tempered, quarrelsome.

8.  The Rigid Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: uptight, intolerant, racist, sexist, ableist, homophobic, obstinate, uncompromising, inflexible, narrow-minded.

9.  The Glib Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: superficial, cunning, inconsistent, sly, crafty.

10.  The Cold Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: emotionally detached, distant, indifferent, uncaring, unexcited.

11.  The Perverted Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: masochistic, lewd, sadistic, vulgar, libidinous.

12.  The Cowardly Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: weak-willed, passive, timid, fearful.

13.  The Immature Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: puerile, childish, illogical, simpleminded, vacuous.

Keep in mind that the above Shadow Archetypes are by no means exhaustive. I’m sure that there are many others out there which I have missed. But you are free to use this breakdown to help you explore your own Shadows. You’re also welcome to add to this list or create your own Shadow Archetypes, which I highly encourage. For example, you might possess a judgmental and dogmatic Shadow who you call “The Nun,” or a sexually deviant Shadow who you call “The Deviant.” Play around with some words and labels, and see what suits your Shadows the best.

6. Have an Inner Conversation

Also known as “Inner Dialogue,” or as Carl Jung phrased it, “Active Imagination,” having a conversation with your Shadow is an easy way to learn from it.

I understand if you might feel a twinge of skepticism towards this practice right now. After all, we are taught that “only crazy people talk to themselves.” But inner dialogue is regularly used in psychotherapy as a way to help people communicate with the various subpersonalities that they have – and we all possess various faces and sides of our ego.

One easy way to practice inner dialogue is to sit in a quiet place, close your eyes, and tune into the present moment. Then, think of a question you would like to ask your Shadow, and silently speak it within your mind. Wait a few moments and see if you ‘hear’ or ‘see’ an answer. Record anything that arises and reflect on it. It is even possible to carry on a conversation with your Shadow using this method. Just ensure that you have an open mindset. In other words, don’t try to control what is being said, just let it flow naturally. You will likely be surprised by the answers you receive!

Visualization is another helpful way of engaging in inner dialogue. I recommend bringing to mind images of dark forests, caves, holes in the ground, or the ocean as these all represent the unconscious mind. Always ensure that you enter and exit your visualization in the same manner, e.g. if you are walking down a path, make sure you walk back up the path. Or if you open a particular door, make sure you open the same door when returning back to normal consciousness. This practice will help to draw you effortlessly in and out of visualizations.

7. Use the Mirror Technique

As we have learned, projection is a technique of the Shadow that helps us to avoid what we have disowned. However, we don’t only project the deeper and darker aspects of ourselves onto others, we also project our light and positive attributes as well. For example, a person may be attracted to another who displays fierce self-assertiveness, not realizing that this quality is what they long to reunite with inside themselves. Another common example (this time negative) is judgmentalism. How many times have you heard someone say “he/she is so judgmental!” Ironically, the very person saying this doesn’t realize that calling another person ‘judgmental’ is actually pronouncing a judgment against them and revealing their own judgmental nature.

The Mirror Technique is the process of uncovering our projections. To practice this technique, we must adopt a mindful and honest approach towards the world: we need to be prepared to own that which we have disowned! Being radically truthful with ourselves can be difficult, so it does require practice. But essentially, we must adopt the mindset that other people are our mirrors. We must understand that those around us serve as the perfect canvas onto which we project all of our unconscious desires and fears.

Start this practice by examining your thoughts and feelings about those you come in contact with. Pay attention to moments when you’re emotionally triggered and ask yourself “am I projecting anything?” Remember: it is also possible to project our own qualities onto another person who really does possess the qualities. Psychologists sometimes refer to this as “projecting onto reality.” For example, we might project our rage onto another person who is, in fact, a rage-filled person. Or we might project our jealousy onto another who genuinely is jealous.

Ask yourself, “What is mine, what is theirs, and what is both of ours?” Not every triggering situation reveals a projection, but they more than often do. Also, look for things you love and adore about others, and uncover the hidden projections there.

The Mirror Technique will help you to shed a lot of light onto Shadow qualities that you have rejected, suppressed, repressed, or disowned. On a side note, you might also like to read about a similar practice called mirror work which helps you to come face-to-face with your own denied aspects.

XII. Shadow Work Q&A

Here are some commonly asked questions about shadow work:

What is shadow work?

Shadow work is the psychological and spiritual practice of exploring our dark side or the ‘shadowy’ part of our nature. We all possess a place within us that contains our secrets, repressed feelings, shameful memories, impulses, and parts that are deemed “unacceptable” and “ugly.” This is our dark side or shadow self – and it is often symbolized as a monster, devil, or ferocious wild animal.

How to do shadow work?

There are many ways to practice shadow work. Some of the most powerful and effective techniques include journaling, artistically expressing your dark side (also known as art therapy), using a mirror to connect with this part of you (mirror work), guided meditations, exploring your projections, and examining your shadow archetypes.

What is the spiritual shadow?

There is light and darkness within all areas of life, and spirituality is not exempt. The spiritual shadow is what occurs when we fall into the traps of spiritual materialism – a phenomenon where we use spirituality to boost our egos and become arrogant, self-absorbed, and even narcissistic.

XIII. Shadow Self -Test

https://lonerwolf.com/shadow-self-test/

As passionate proponents of Shadow Work, we have created a free Shadow Self test on this website for you to take. Like any test, take it with a grain of salt and use your own analysis to ultimately determine how ‘dominant’ your Shadow is in your life. Please remember that tests online cannot be 100% accurate, so see it as a fun self-discovery tool. And note: those who receive a “small Shadow Self” answer still need to do Shadow Work. No person is exempt. ;)

XIV. Own Your Shadow and You Will Own Your Life

If you are looking for some serious, authentic and long-lived healing in your life, Shadow Work is the perfect way to experience profound inner transformation. Remember that what you internalize is almost always externalized in one form or another.

Own your shadow and you will own your life.

Here are some final inspiring words:

“The secret is out: all of us, no exceptions, have qualities we won’t let anyone see, including ourselves – our Shadow. If we face up to our dark side, our life can be energized. If not, there is the devil to pay. This is one of life’s most urgent projects. — Larry Dossey (Healing Words)”

“If we don’t change, we don’t grow. If we don’t grow, we are not really living. Growth demands a temporary surrender of security.” — Gail Sheehy

“Who has not at one time or another felt a sourness, wrath, selfishness, envy and pride, which he could not tell what to do with, or how to bear, rising up in him without his consent, casting a blackness over all his thoughts … It is exceeding good and beneficial to us to discover this dark, disordered fire of our soul; because when rightly known and rightly dealt with, it can as well be made the foundation of heaven as it is of hell. — William Law”

“To confront a person with his own shadow is to show him his own light. — Carl Jung”

[artdisciple001]

Part 2

Okey so….Derek and Casey in this second season were something to think about….

There was some tremendous character growth between them even to the point of them getting along together. But I think the most significant moment that effectively shows this are two episodes: the one with soccer coach and the one with Casey's dad. And what does these two seemingly different episodes have in common...well the way Derek shows that he cares. He protects her from getting used by a three timing gigolo and helps her spend time with her dad that came to visit.

Maybe I'm overanalyzing a family show that isn't meant to be this deep...but hear me out. Although the episode "Dinner Guest" was all about Casey and she wanting to spend time with her dad, in a way this was also about Derek. And I feel kinda dumb for not thinking about it before, but both,Casey and Derek, are kids from divorced parents. I think this is their common ground and I think that's why Derek could tell that Casey was upset when the dinner party was over. Hurt people can tell when others are hurting. Let me elaborate…. 🐸🍵

Casey's personality is part of who she is and the environment she was raised on. She said it herself…"I want this dinner to be perfect so maybe dad would visit more". In other words, if I'm perfect enough he would stay. Usually, kids blame themselves for their parents divorce. You can also see this with Lizzie and Edwin too. A perfect example of this is in the first season when they were adjusting to living together, and at the midst of all the chaos, Nora and George started arguing, that's when Lizzie and Edwin started to blame each other. But Casey and Derek reacted differently, they compromised, because they know that their parents have never been happier, so they try to behave with each other.

Okay so...Casey's coping mechanism is proving herself, her worth and ability strive for more than expected. Now the question is….what is Derek's coping mechanism….well obviously talking about his feelings. He doesn't talk about his feelings he acts out his feelings. That is why he is always doing the exact opposite of what he is told. Sounds like a kid trying to get attention to me. Because when you can't talk about your feelings you act it out. That's why he says he is the"troubled child"…. I just wonder if his mom is going to appear in later seasons. I think it's plainly obvious that both Nora and George don't share custody of their kids with their biological parents. But man…..at least Casey got to see her dad….what about Derek and his mom?

Now how does all of this tie in to Casey and Derek...Well it's elementary my dear Watson 🧐 She is always trying to prove herself to Derek by not being so preppy, more lose, the thing is...if she can't stand him why do all of those things. Now.. for Derek it's kinda obvious he doesn't do feeling, that's why he couldn't see her cry and that's also why he couldn't see her being used by the gigolo coach...why….cause he doesn't do feeling and he doesn't do tears.

But I'm contradicting myself if he is so careless then why hasn't he made his move on Casey, obviously there's chemistry, and besides he doesn't care what people think, he defies authority. That just means he doesn't like her, there's your proof….Nah nah nah, hear me out ….they both said it, their parents have never been happier… they are compromising, they know best, they got their coping mechanism to prove it. 😭😭😭😭

This has been such a deep dive analysis. I know it's a family show but dang it's fun to think about it. All of this deep thoughtfulness came from a scene where Derek hits Casey with his shoulder when she looked at him that way 👀���� in "battle of the bands".

Really would like to know what Derek told Casey's dad. Looking forward to what's next.

🌼

[ghostxofxartemis]

May I have John/Ashely at a party for the Kissing Prompts, please? If you're still taking them?

Of course you may! I always love writing these two cinnamon buns! 

Available on AO3 | From this prompt here... inbox always open just let me know it’s from this list. 

The After Party

Ashley's arm was wrapped around Shepard's waist, as much for supporting him as it was to be in close proximity to him; his arm was wrapped around her shoulder. The last month and few weeks had been long and agonizing. The recovery from surgery, the physical therapy, the psychological exams he wanted to scoff at, all had been so taxing on John. He was a man of action, he couldn't sit long enough without feeling agitated. He needed to move. And hospitals had a way of making sure you did just the opposite. 

Now, as they walked back to the Normandy, a huge grin on his face, he was happy. The war was over, his girlfriend, his crew… family were all okay, and here he was, taking command of his ship once more. The thought excited him. There was just something about being out there in space, helping and protecting others he found so rewarding. He ran his hand against the hatch door.

"Skipper?" 

"Hmmm?" He looked at Ashley, their smiles met, but there was concern in her eyes.

"Thought I lost you there for a moment. You okay?" 

John's smile widened. "Everything is perfect’" he said as he brushed his lips against Ashley's forehead. He really meant it. 

“I could use a drink. I do believe there is a freshly stocked bar down on the crew deck.” A coy smile tugged at Ashley’s lips which only caused John to laugh as they walked to the elevator lift.

“I do believe we have a score to settle. I mean… I did save the Galaxy, so that gives me a few points towards being the best human Spectre… but if you do want me to drink you under the table tonight…” He half-smirked. Ashley rolled her eyes, elbowing him in the ribs. 

“Ow.” He complained slightly, as he rubbed his ribs with his hand. Ashley snorted as she pressed the button to deck three.

“Oh suck it up, princess, you’re fine.” Ashley rolled her eyes.  

“You didn’t…?” He wasn’t sure he had heard right.

“Oh! I did!” Ashley gently shoved him out of the lift and towards the lounge.

The door whooshed opened as they neared it, Shepard was immediately greeted by the crew who had gathered and already started drinking. He was surprised to see even Jack and Miranda had made their way in here. 

James raised his glass, “Hey hey, the man of the hour is here!” 

Traynor was the first one to get up from where she sat on the ledge of the couch to come give Shepard a hug. “Welcome back, Commander!”

“It’s good to be back,” Shepard said as he let go. 

Cortez was standing at the bar; he popped open the champagne bottle pouring it in glasses. 

Miranda was the first one to take up a glass. Amused, Shepard chuckled as he and Ashley approached the counter to take a glass themselves. Miranda was usually the last person to loosen up. 

“Still trying to be normal?” He smirked. 

“Starting to get the hang of it,” Miranda mumbled with a sheepish look as she reached for Jack’s hand and intertwined their fingers. Shepard arched an eyebrow, his smirk now turning into a full grin. Boy, did he ever call it. Though, he never had expected for them to act on their feelings. 

Jack punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up, Shepard!” 

“Should start a dating service, Shepard. The Normandy seems to be a hookup site rather than an Alliance vessel,” Tali said as she sat on the bar tool. She grabbed the tripled filtered Turian brandy and poured herself a glass.

“You’ll be the first to know, Tali,” Shepard quipped as he reached for a glass of champagne. 

“I’m good,” she said as she gulped down her drink through her ‘induction port’. 

“Never mind that. Cortez, line up some shots will you. Reaper metal asses have been sent back to whatever black hole they came from. Time to fucking party!” Jack demanded. 

                                                             ~n~

The bar was littered with all types of different glasses. Shepard had lost count of how many shots and drinks he had, but one thing he was certain about, he felt a lot better than most of the crew. Courtesy of Cerberus upgrades. He could definitely confirm they were still intact and fully functioning. Catalyst be damned for lying to him.

Ashley had met him drink for drink until she felt like the contents were coming back up rather than staying down, so she admitted defeat to their challenge, which she didn’t take too lightly. 

A couple of the crew members were snoring away on the couch, some had called it a night and headed to the crew quarters. While others still danced away to the blaring music in the middle of the lounge, others were playing poker at the table, or gathered around the bar for more shots. 

It had been a good night. It was certainly nice to see everyone let their hair down, so to speak, knowing that there wasn’t a battle waiting for them the next day. For the first time in over three years Shepard actually felt relaxed.  

Shepard was in the middle of taking his shot when Ashley came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. 

“Ash, you want one?” Cortez asked her. 

“Nope. I think we can all say Shepard can drink me under the table.” She shook her head, her eyes a little wild, unfocused. She was slightly unsteady on her feet.  Shepard chuckled. 

“For that, he can give me a dance though,” she wiggled her brows.

“Ash…”

“Just one. Come on.” She tugged at his arm, and he acquiesced following her into the middle of the room. 

Ashley wrapped her arms around his neck, his around her waist. 

“I don’t really care for the dance. I just wanted you for a moment,” Ashley whispered in his ear.

“Impatient are we?” He chuckled as he leaned in closer to her. 

“Just a little,” she admitted as she started closing the distance.

“Is that what I’ll get to look forward to everyday?” Shepard quipped.

“Maybe.”

“I don’t think I mind at all,” Shepard said as he closed the distance between them, planting his lips on hers as they gave in to each other. His hands travelled up her waist to eventually rest on each side of her face to keep her from pulling away. He wanted to keep feeling her soft lips against his for as long as he could. Knowing he had to behave in front of the crew drove him crazy. So many things he wanted to do right now. 

Ahsley’s lips parted his as she bit down on his lower lip, pulling it between her teeth before she pulled away. 

“I don’t think I mind either, sir,” she said coyly, as her eyes showed all the intent behind her words, before closing the distance once more. 

Pulling away, Ashley took his arm and winked at him as she led him out of the lounge.

John smirked, he guessed he wasn’t the only one after all with such thoughts in mind. 

[victimhood]

The one in which the Euros 3rd place playoff is abolished after Italia 1980, and then restored at short notice for Italia 2028, making it the historic occasion in which a whole country cockblocked their captain Nicolò di Genova.

It is June 1980. The European Championship is taking place in Italy. It is the first edition of the tournament with eight teams, divided into two groups. The winners of each group move on to play in the final, and the runners up of each group move on to battle for third place.

It is the final edition of the Euros to have the third place playoff. With dwindling attendances and television viewers, UEFA deems the fixture unnecessary for future editions of the tournament. Italy hold Czechoslovakia to a 1-1 draw, and the match is decided on penalties. The final outcome? 9-8 to Czechoslovakia.

For as long as it has existed, there has been vocal opposition to the third place match. There are those who question its purpose, who see it as a meaningless extension of the tournament for advertisement money. A kinder commentary on offer is from those who see it as cruel to make losers play yet another competitive fixture, for little to no reward. Just think of the fourth-placed team—they played better than the rest of the competition except three—yet they must go home with the bitter memory of having lost twice.

On the other camp, there are those who recall with great fondness the third place match of the 2002 World Cup between host nation South Korea and Turkey. If that doesn’t work for you, what about the consolation it offered to the host nation in the 1990 World Cup, a breakout tournament for Italy’s Roberto Baggio?

Now we skip to June 2028. The European Championship is once more taking place in Italy. There are twenty four teams divided into groups, followed by a knockout stage. There is no third place fixture on the schedule. The much-beloved Italian captain takes his team on a blistering dream run, in front of an adoring home crowd, beating a well-regarded Portugal and incumbent holders Belgium along the way. He has declared his intention to retire for good, once this tournament is over.

Picture this: you are Italy. You play England in the semifinal in Napoli, at the Stadio San Paolo, also known as the Stadio Diego Armando Maradona. You arrive in the stadium, or you watch from home, full of hope, with faith in your captain and your squad. Your team scores one at the 20th minute. Perfect opening. England try but they can’t get past the deadbolt across goal, past your much vaunted defensive line. At the 63rd minute, Foden puts one past your goalie, but VAR rules it offside. At the 89th minute, the scoreline is still 1-0 and you’re nearly through, and some egregious fans are already cheering, and then Foden gets it in for real in a stroke of sheer luck. The ball hits the crossbar but somehow bounces downward into goal. The game goes into extra time, and then to penalties. The final result? England wins 4-3 on penalties. This is a brutal game. At the end of your match, your captain sheds tears and apologizes for not being able to do more to push the team through to the finals. No! You want to scream. Caro Nicolò, il nostro capitano, it’s not your fault. You have done so much for us. You begin to blame yourself: it’s us, it’s our fault. We dared to dream too early. You were so busy dreaming of your beloved captain raising the trophy that you forgot the game wasn’t over. In fact, even before this semifinal you were already dreaming of the trophy. This is how fate punishes you. You hate to see him end his career this way. He didn’t let you down, you let your captain down! Can we do this one over? You’ll do right by your captain this time.

Picture this: you’re the president of UEFA, and the tournament is hosted in your home country. It would have been the honor of honors, to award the winner’s medals to your compatriots. The papers are raging over the match outcome: England squeaked through on a razor’s blade, and Italy were the more inspired team. The fans are out in the streets. The people have spoken! Let us bring back the third place match! Let us see our captain off with dignity and honor! Your colleagues say: this is preposterous. We got rid of it years ago, because of Italia 1980. But does anyone really remember why? The advertisers tell you they’re willing to pay. One extra match means extra revenues. Worse things have happened in the pursuit for money. What’s the harm in a consolation match? An emergency meeting is called. Who’s playing in the second semifinal? France and the Netherlands. Both their feds agree to the third place match. From the next tournament onwards, there’ll even be a sweet cherry of a coefficient bonus—all the feds agree to this, but it would not be fair to the rest to apply it this ongoing tournament (and you hear minor grumbles from the FIGC, FFF and KNVB, who think they should be compensated for the inconvenience). No matter; the people have been given what they want! Another football match in the grand machine of things! The meeting takes so long that France beats the Netherlands 3-2 in the meantime, and now someone has to do the unpleasant job of telling the players. Were any of them consulted in this affair? What a preposterous concept. That’s not how UEFA works. UEFA says jump and they say how high.

Picture this: you are Nicolò Di Genova, and you’ve played the final match of your professional career. It did not end in the way you wanted, but such is life. You are ready to put your former self in the grave. You say goodbye to your treasured teammates, and the very next morning you check out of the training center to make your way to Turin, to see your fidanzato in the semifinals. Well, he crashes out too, his downfall orchestrated by that paraculo of your club teammate, Sébastien of the number 23. And so it is England vs France in the final, to be played in Italy. The thought of it turns even the strongest stomach of any citizen of this noble country. The only silver lining to this cursed final lineup is getting to whisk the love of your life off into the secluded countryside, and maybe with a few rounds of passionate lovemaking you can even forget the pain of loss.

You’re in the car. You just picked up your inamorato from his team hotel. You want to push him into the backseat and blow the brains out of him but you have better self control than that.

“How does retirement feel like?” he cracks a joke at you.

“You know full well my plans,” you return cheekily.

You’re driving off into the E70 when your phone rings. It doesn’t stop ringing so you pull over to take the call.

It’s your national team coach. “They just restored the third place match. Can you come back to the training ground?”

Who agreed to this? Your mind is reeling from the preposterousness of it all.

“They love you, Nichi. The people want you back.”

You exchange a look with your lover. Now his phone is ringing too. It’s his coach.

Due to this unfortunate turn of events you end up having an argument with your lover. You are principled, and having principles means not giving in to this total farce of a circus show, the third place match. Your lover is an incurable romantic, and pleads on behalf of your people. They did this all for you—show them some love in return. And what was the meaning of the past 31 years of your life again? You have already given them everything.

If only the people of Italy knew how much they had to thank Yusuf Al Kaysani. It’s because of him—it’s because of his beautiful deep brown eyes that glisten with all the stars of this universe that you cave and you agree.

“Get out, let’s switch. I’ll drive, and you call your mom and tell her the news.”

How do you begin to articulate how much this man knows the answers in your heart before your brain catches up to the same conclusions?

And so, like Lazarus, on the fourth day of your death you come back to life.

ITA vs NED

Picture this: you’re the cameraman, in the tunnel. The teams are lining up. The two captains emerge from the dressing room and compliment each other on their good looks with wry smiles. Some good natured ribbing, you think. They’re old friends. They played together for eight years at the same club. The Italian captain puts his hands on the Dutch captain, and then, like magnets, his hands seem incapable of leaving the Dutch captain’s back. You start to feel uncomfortable, like you’re seeing something that you shouldn’t be seeing. You look around. Everyone else in the double file of blue and orange is just chatting away, acting normal. Maybe...it’s just your imagination? You train your camera on the chatting crowd, giving the captains space. The match officials appear, taking the lead in front of both teams. You get in position for the money shot, following the two teams out of the tunnel and into the adoring crowd.

Picture this: you have never missed a single football match your grandson plays in. So when there’s a surprise third place match announced, you have to bail on karaoke night with the girls to watch the match on tv. Your friends don’t watch football, but if they do, they watch for the “hot guys on the Italian team”. Oh yeah, he’s playing Italy, you tell them. Feel free to come over to my place, if they don’t mind your oldest son and your rowdy grandchildren. Karaoke night swiftly becomes football night. There is an argument between Hamza and his dad over the pointlessness of the third place playoff. So...your family has been behaving in an unusual manner for several months now, and you suspect it’s because your grandson said he is gay. The papers here don’t report it, because they still want to claim him to some extent, but you have noted that the coverage is more conditional than before. You don’t live under a rock, and you’ve seen the news on YouTube even if no one around you is prepared to talk about it. As the two teams walk out of the tunnel and onto the pitch, you notice the Italian captain letting his hand slip from your grandson’s back, and Hamza suddenly jumps in front of the TV screen to adjust the volume.

“What the heck are you doing?” Mehdi, Hamza’s father and your eldest son, yells.

“The audio was...wonky,” Hamza replies sheepishly. “But I think it’s okay now.”

The match begins. At a corner kick, the Italian captain practically plasters himself all over your grandson, and it’s Hamza messing with the TV remote again, this time accidentally switching channels. Mehdi slaps him in the back of the head. You think that maybe it’s time you called Ibrahim. Someone needs to tell you the truth they’ve been so bad at hiding. Your grandson is not just gay, he seems to have a lover, and it’s that evil-eyed captain, the man who curses all who cross him.

Picture this: you’re a fan from the friendly town of Muggenbeet, watching from the San Siro. You came all this way to support the Oranje and they had to concede that final goal to France in front of your face. Sore and in denial about your loss, you start to make jokes about Waterloo to cope, handing the French off to the English. And then—out of nowhere, UEFA announces that they’ll restore the third place match. You think it’s the most shameless attempt for the host country to award themselves something ever. But, you know, does anyone really want to watch an England-France final? No. Never. For forever. We hate them both. It’s not football. It’s a circus of clowns. The viewership for this third place match is through the roof, higher than for your semifinal vs France. Let’s just treat this as the real final. What a galaxy-brained idea. Your country could steal it from the hosts—no hard feelings to Italy. You’ve enjoyed the pizza and the pasta, maybe it would be fun to crush their team like little peppercorns to sprinkle on your food. Based. Now you want a cacio e pepe after the match. Wait, you’re not in Rome, where the real (fake news!) final is. Boo. There is a corner, right at the end where you are sitting. Poepjes is taking it. Dekmijn and Blootgat are running up. Your captain is being felt up by the Italian captain. (No literally, that guy isn’t even looking at the goal? He’s just...pressing himself against your captain? Why are his hands encircled around Al Kaysani’s waist like so?) Anyway, the ball pings between the Italian keeper and Blootgat, and then it flies into Di Genova’s rather shapely calves...and bounces into the goal.

Uhhhhhh, THANK YOU? Grazie mille Nicolò Di Genova!!!! You gave us one goal!!!

The Italian fans must be flabbergasted. Isn’t this the dude’s retirement match? Or whatever. Who knows. Italy is a place of the greatest contradictions, so you’ve been told. But you’ll take what you can get. You kinda feel bad for the guy, who has buried his face in his hands. Maybe...you should cheer for him. And so...the lot of you, the orange lot, sitting in the Curva Sud, you start singing for the Italian captain. Nicolò Di Genova! There’s only one Di Genova!

The third place match is the most lawless ninety minutes in the historical timeline.

Picture this: you’re an Interista and season ticket holder. And of course you support your national team. You were heartbroken when the England keeper denied Marcuzzi to progress to the finals. You cried when your captain cried. And then, out of nowhere, they said, let’s bring back the third place match. The finals are in the Stadio Olimpico, so...maybe let’s have the third place match in the San Siro? You score a ticket at your usual seat. You get to see your captain one more time before he rides off into the sunset? What more can you ask for? This is romance of the highest order. The San Siro loves Nichi, of course all the staff and volunteers come together to make the event happen in a matter of days. You can’t believe this is happening. And then...your captain opens the scoring with an own goal. The Dutch fans are singing for him. What do you do? Well, if you can’t beat them, join them—you can sing louder for your captain! He’s your captain! And you know, their captain, he’s kinda your guy too, because Sempre Inter. Revenge is served, sweet and cold like a scoop of gelato, when your captain heads in the equalizer. The crowd goes wild. He’s taking this match seriously, but you knew he always would—that’s why you love him. He could ask for your firstborn and you would gladly give it up. You can always trust your capitano. There is a penalty call in the second half of the match and his teammates give it to him—a little unorthodox—but like a deadly sniper your captain sneaks a cool and calculated one past the Dutch keeper. You cheer. Does it count as a hat trick when you’ve scored at both ends? What a scoreline to retire to!

Picture this: you’re Yusuf Al Kaysani. You just lost in the third place match, a match widely panned as the least necessary match in a tournament by those who don’t know better. And yet, the third place match is the purest expression of love for the beautiful game. All other matches are clouded by the temptations of fame and fortune. The third place match you play for love and honor. You watch from the sidelines as your boyfriend leads his team to collect the medals, from none other than Paolo Maldini. Maldini, who’s doing an admirable job as UEFA President. Who knows where and how they got these medals at short notice—sometimes this country pulls miracles like a rabbit out from the magician’s hat of chaos. Everyone in the stadium is acting like this is the final. It’s not—it’s something a little better, a match born of love, played for love, with nothing to win and nothing to lose.

There is no trophy to lift, so Nico’s teammates lift him. They’re yelling for you. You’ve played with and against at least 90% of that team. Come join us, the men in blue say, and everyone forms a circle, arm linking arm, bouncing to the music. There are no losers here—your whole team is invited to the celebrations. The Dutch fans are singing: Second place! Second place! Let’s pretend we’re second place!

Let’s be real, for this one night, in this exact stadium, there’s only one captain, and the ones in the know push you towards him. Here’s your man, the unspoken acknowledgement. But you know your place—this is not your night. This night is for him. It’s for the country that loves him, and for him to say one last goodbye. Daniele Pirozzi jumps on the captain’s back, and the captain carries him for a while, laughing away. Pirozzi, whom you spent countless hours training how to read the field, in a fashion after yours. And then there’s Boselli, Marcuzzi, Poepjes and more. From one generation to another, the baton is passed. Nico, look around, these are our boys, as good as any. They’ll be better than us, and we are happy to see it, for the love of the game. Pirozzi jumps off the captain’s back and jumps onto you, asking you if you want to lift the captain together. You laugh and agree. On the count of three, uno, due—

Picture this: you’re Nicolò Di Genova, and you’re sitting on the shoulders of your protegé and your lover. Here we can mark the passing of the guard—tonight you are unburdened and the only thing that’s left, you realize, is love. Yusuf was right. Look, look how much they love you. Even San Paolo did this for you. Could you ever have denied all of them this? You almost screwed it up at the beginning, but perhaps God was just reminding you to take your responsibilities seriously. You are but a servant of the game and this ground is your ground, your hallowed ground, the church of your sins and glory.

It’s the final competitive match of your career, and you get to walk off the field, arm in arm with the love of your life, cheered on by a country you gave everything to.

Now, for the rest of your life to begin.

(chapter 106: nel blu, dipinto di blu, of The Beautiful Game)

[aspoonofsugar]

I was happy to discover you are in ATLA fandom too. Could you please share your thoughts on Azula? I like your analyses

Hello anon!

Thank you very much for the nice words and for this ask! I love Azula!

I think Azula’s character explores the idea of control:

In The Avatar State, she is shown training to master “lightening”. There, it is shown how losing control of even a small detail, like a lock of hair, is enough to make Azula angry.

It is not by chance that such a scene occurs in an episode focused on the Avatar State. As a matter of fact the Avatar State and the lightening can (partially) be compared when it comes to Aang and Zuko’s stories in book two. This book opens up with Aang trying to enter the Avatar State and with the lightening being introduced thanks to Azula’s character. What is more, both Aang and Zuko try to get a hold of the two different techniques throughout the season. Finally, both skills need for the user to “let go” of their feelings.

In particular, when it comes to the lightening, there are two different ways to interpret this:

Iroh: There is energy all around us. The energy is both Ying and Yang. Positive energy and negative energy. Only a select few firebenders can separate these energies. This creates an imbalance. The energy wants to restore balance and, in the moment the positive and negative energy come pressing back together, you provide release and guidance...creating lightening. (...) Remember, once you separate the energy you do not command it. You are simply its humble guide.”

Iroh: “Lightening is a pure expression of fire-bending without aggression. It is not fueled by rage or emotion the way other firebending is. Some call lightening the cold blooded fire. It is precise precise and deadly, like Azula. To perform the technique requires peace of mind.”

On one hand Iroh’s description is interesting because it is as if creating lightening is a process of synthesis. You separate opposites and have them come back together, so that they can gain a new form. So it makes sense that, thematically, this new synthesis can happen only if the character overcomes their inner turmoil. This is also why Zuko is not able to learn the skill:

Iroh: “You will not be able to master lightening until you have dealt with the turmoil inside you.”

Zuko: “What turmoil!?”

Iroh: “Zuko, you must let go of your feelings of shame if you want your anger to go away.”

In order to acquire it, he should let go of his shame, but he can’t do it. The fact that “shame” is what stops Zuko from making progress is interesting. As explained by Guru Pathick, thus, the fire chakra is the chakra of will and it is polluted by shame.

On the other hand the lightening is called cold-blooded firebending because it can be realized only by benders whose emotions are kept in check. I would argue that this is the reason why Azula is able to use this skill. It is not that she has reached a level of emotional maturity which lets her become a  “humble guide” to the energy. It is just that she constantly represses her feelings. This repression gives the idea that she is in perfect control, but this impression is a superficial one and it is proven wrong towards the end of the story.

In short, Zuko is not able to use lightening because of his explosive emotions, while Azula is able to because she restricts her feelings. Let’s highlight that this difference between the two siblings comes up again in a key episode aka The Beach:

Once again Zuko’s emotions are in full display. He is angry and nervous. He might not know why, but he is. Moreover he is finally able to express himself thanks to a confrontation with the other members of the group. Finally he does so while a giant fire erupts to highlight the catharsis of the moment. When it comes to Azula, she too opens up a little. In particular, she lets this slip:

Azula: I don't have sob stories like all of you. I could sit here and complain how our mom like Zuko more than me. But I don't really care. My own mother... thought I was a monster... She was right of course, but it still hurt.

Azula thinks that Ursa saw her as a monster. It is clear that the unsolved issues with her mother have left a sign on her. However, when she has the chance to truly let it all out, she does not. She changes the tone of the conversation and immediately leaves the topic. However, this does not mean that she is not troubled. If anything, her emotions keep burning behind a cold exterior, exactly like the fire, which burns under the ashes. Almost invisible, but still there.

About this, let’s consider two things.

1) In The Beach episode, Azula does something similar here:

Azula: “Come down to the beach with me. Come on! This place is depressing.”

Zuko starts talking about their past and their family, but Azula does not engage in the conversation and tells him to leave.

2) When Azula opens up, the others do not challenge her. They do not ask her what she meant nor they try to contradict what she said. This is different from what they have just done with each other. All in all, Zuko openly provokes Ty Lee and Ty Lee, Zuko and Azula all provoke May, until she shouts. Finally, all the girls keep asking Zuko who he is really angry with, until he is finally able to answer.

These two considerations can be linked to more general ideas.

a) Azula is a person who needs to always be in control. This has two consequences. The first is that she never lets herself be vulnerable. She is always on guard and closed up to others. The second is that she is like a fish out of water when there is nothing to control.

This is made clear in the episode The Beach:

Zuko: “Doing nothing is a waste of time. We are being sent a way in a force vacation. I feel like a child.”

In this episode, Azula and the others are given a break. However, Azula, just like Zuko, is not really able to take a break.

She is on an island and should relax, but the only way she manages to do so is by finding new enemies:

She must continually challenge herself and must change everything in a competition (and win it) in order not to face how empty she feels. This is why, in the end, her solution to the insecurities the beach re-awakens in her is to trash a party. She can’t fit in a group of pampered teenagers, so she ruins their evening. However, what Azula should really do is to try to understand why she does not fit.

The episode shows that Azula is ignorant when it comes to casual relationships:

Azula: “I am so used to people worshipping us”.

Ty Lee: “They should!”

Azula: “I know and I love it. But for once I just wanna see how people would react to us if they did not know who we were.”

She says so directly. She has been worshipped all her life. However, this means she does not know how people react to her outside of her role as a princess and a military leader.

The military aspect is especially interesting because, even if she does not disclose her identity as a royal, her attempts to bond are all centered around military topics:

Azula: “That's a sharp outfit, Chan. Careful, you could puncture the hull of an empire-class Fire Nation battle ship, leaving thousands to drown at sea. Because... it's so sharp.”

Azula: “Together you and I will be... THE STRONGEST COUPLE IN THE WHOLE WORLD! We will dominate the Earth!”

Her life has been a long training session for war, so she does not really know anything else. This is obvious both in how she can’t talk about other things and in how she sees others not like people, but like enemies/rivals.

This is also why the vacation in Amber Island could have been very important if Azula had been able to properly capitalize on it. All in all, The Beach is the episode where Azula is shown the most vulnerable (not counting the finale where she has a complete break-down).

She tries to change her approach to go along with others:

Azula: “Well that sounds really shallow and stupid...Let’s try it!

She openly apologizes and shows her insecurities:

“Look...maybe I just said it because I was a little...jealous.”

However, all of this is not enough to change the trajectory of her arc. Why is that so? This has to do with another aspect of Azula’s controlling tendencies. As a matter of fact not only does she controls herself, but also others.

b) Azula is presented since the beginning as a highly manipulative character. Manipulation is at the root of all her major relationships:

Zuko:You lied to me!

Azula: Like I've never done that before.

She lies to Zuko to catch him and forces Ty Lee to join her through manipulation. Moreover most of her plans rely on manipulation and lies. However, if you try to control and manipulate others you are unable to build healthy relationships.

This is what happens to Azula. As stated above, nobody replies to Azula when she opens up. Zuko could have very easily told her Ursa loved them both. May and Ty Lee could have tried to comfort her somehow. However, nobody does. And nobody does because they are all scared of Azula. In her attempt to control everybody, Azula has negated herself the chance to have  a relationship among equals.

What is more, it is clear that it is impossible to fully control others. The Beach starts to show this through Azula’s attempts to flirt. Without her status as a princess, her peers do not behave like she wants. She might be able to hook up with a guy by rehearsing and applying a strategy. However, building a relationship is not a military operation. It is not something that can be done through control, but only through respect and trust.

Azula fails to do so and this is why she is left behind by others. She is left behind by Zuko who breaks free from their father. She is left behind by Mai and Ty Lee who choose healthier relationships over the one they have with her. After she loses them, Azula starts spiralling out of control and burns everything around her.

In short, I would say that Azula’s main flaw is “control”. She wants to control everyone, herself included. So in the end she is betrayed and left behind by people and she herself loses control:

Ursa: I think you're confused. All your life you've used fear to control people. Like your friends Mai and Ty Lee.

Azula:Well what choice do I have? Trust is for fools! Fear is the only reliable way. Even you fear me.

This is especially tragic because it is clear that Azula’s behaviour is her answer to an environment where a clear line was drawn between winners and losers. Azula has always been Ozai’s favourite, but Ozai has never loved her. He loves Azula’s talent, so Azula cultivates those qualities which make her accepted by her father. What is more, Ozai is not a character who values feelings or emotions, so Azula represses these aspects of herself.

In conclusion, I think Azula is a very tragic character and that her spiral was very well written and realistic. I also think that in the series itself she has shown the potential to change for the better, but this possibility has not been explored. I mean, if she had no guilt nor regrets about her behaviour, she would not have seen the hallucination of her mother calling her out.

These are more or less my major thoughts on Azula. There are probably many other things to add, but as far as my generic impressions of her go, this is what I have to say. Feel free to make more specific questions! I love her!

Thank you for the ask!

[thegayfromrulid]

for the winter one shots, how about the hamefura gang in a snowball fight, if you want to make it more chaotic they could use their magic, katarina wins by the power of her muscles. That or Katarina inventing Christmas(western version) cause they don't celebrate it in this world

It was a lot of fun plotting this out! I had a bit of a struggle deciding which one to go with!! I might play with the other prompt because I was so indecisive, I loved both of these ideas a lot! I hope this is as fun to read as it was to write!

           Thrusting open the curtains, the darkness of the bedroom suddenly was filled with the brightest, most brilliant white. Katarina’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she gazed at the freshly fallen snow on the ground. It had been a while since the last good snow. She hurried to pull on her warmest clothes and dashed outside, eager to test the snow. She took several steps out into it before she dropped down and scooped up a handful of it in her hands. Grinning, she formed it into a ball. Sure enough, it was sticky enough.

           “Heh, heh, heh,” she chuckled. “It’s the perfect consistency!”

           She heard snow crunching behind her.

           “The perfect consistency for what?”

           Whirling around, and giving no thought to who was behind her, she tossed the ball of snow, hitting her brother squarely in the chest. Unprepared for such an attack, Keith lost his balance and toppled over into the snow.

           “That!” Katarina exclaimed gleefully. “The snow is sticky enough to make snowballs!”

           Keith groaned and sat up.

           “Mother’s not going to like it if you start something, big sister,” he said, sighing.

           His words didn’t reach her. She was relishing the presence of a good snow, already considering how to rope her friends into a large snowball fight. Even lords, ladies, and royals could enjoy some winter fun. There was no harm in that. She placed her hands on her hips and nodded. Before the snow melted, she’d have them all outside for a great snow battle.

           “What do you think of invitations?” she said.

           Keith shook his head, trailing along after her.

           “I don’t think you need to write out invitations for this,” he said. “We’ll all be together after breakfast.”

           Katarina hummed and nodded.

           “True,” she said. “I’ll tell them our after-breakfast plans then and there!”

           Sighing, he silently hoped for someone else to talk her out of this. The gathering around the breakfast table, however, didn’t seem capable of telling her no. Keith’s meager attempt at invoking the possible wrath of their mother was the strongest opposition seen to her declaration that they’d be out playing in the snow at their age. It was all going according to her plans. Though, truth be told, she’d left out certain details—one of which included the throwing of snow at one another.

           The activity had been posed as a friendly stroll through the snow. She’d openly expressed her interest to walk with her best friends, so who, aside from the fully-aware Keith, would suspect that they’d be ambushed as soon as Katarina scooped up a handful of snow? He could have told them, but he supposed that wouldn’t do him any good. They were already all in agreement; they’d join her on a morning after-breakfast stroll out in the snow. With Katarina’s personality, however, there was room to suspect that Keith wasn’t the only one aware of a snowball-filled plot brewing in her mind.

           Everyone donned their warmest garments. They were quite proper-looking—hardly the image of a group of teenagers minutes away from a scuffle in the snow. Finely embroidered winter robes and petticoats covered the lavish noble children, and Sophia lent a spectacularly plush coat to Maria, concerned that she might be a bit cold in her thinner-looking winter attire. It was a perfect picture of young gentlefolk headed out into the cold for a stroll around campus.

           “Did you have a special place in mind to view covered in snow, Lady Katarina?” Sophia asked, hurrying to match Katarina’s pace as they walked.

           Katarina hummed. She’d not thought this far into the ruse. Her main goal had been to get everyone outside; beyond that, she hadn’t thought out the minor details. Laughing, she held up a finger and did her best to come up with a reasonable answer.

           “I-I was thinking we could pick a place together!” she said, chuckling.

           Maria clasped her hands together and smiled warmly.

           “How about the main courtyard where I used to eat my lunches?” she suggested. “I think it would be lovely covered in snow!”

           Mary and Sophia nodded their heads enthusiastically, and the boys didn’t seem all that interested in proposing any other options. They made their way through the halls, headed directly for the courtyard. Katarina thought out her plan of attack carefully. The girls were huddled more closely to her than the boys were, which meant they were in a less difficult range as far as aim went, but they’d suspect her as soon as she dropped to the ground. Aiming for one of the boys in the back, however, would give her the element of surprise.

           Unless…

           She pulled the girls in closer around her and gave a quick glance back.

           “How about we get the upper hand when we get to the courtyard and snowball the boys when they aren’t expecting it?” she asked.

           Maria laughed.

           “Were you wanting a snowball fight all along, Lady Katarina?” she asked.

           Katarina tried to mutter her way into an excuse, but both Mary and Sophia started giggling as well.

           “Of course, she was,” Mary said. “Katarina’s always thrilled in a big snow. She would run outside and test the snow’s consistency, and then we’d all get into a big snowball fight. And then Lady Claes would run outside and insist that we all behave ourselves.”

           Sophia nodded, smiling.

           “Prince Alan used to suspect Prince Geordo of telling on us,” she said, “but I think he was often too humiliated to do so when Lady Katarina always managed to land a hit on him first.”

           The two giggled as they remembered past exploits. Maria couldn’t help but join in with their hushed laughter.

           “So, are we waiting for them to look away, or did you have something else in mind?” Mary asked.

           A grin worthy of her villainess status flashed across her face.

           “Here’s what I was thinking…”

           The plan-sharing was underway. The girls kept their chatter to themselves, just barely inaudible to the unsuspecting group of boys. Only Keith kept his eyes on them, keeping his gaze trained on Katarina as he strained his ears to get a hint as to what they were discussing. It was, naturally, an unsuccessful endeavor, as he could hear nothing, so he resigned himself to working on possible evasion maneuvers when the anticipated snowballs came flying in his direction.

           As planned, the girls stepped into the courtyard first, dashing to the center and looking around at the snow-covered benches and flowerbeds. They gathered around a spot on the ground and dropped down, pretending as if they were inspecting something they’d seen. Katarina nodded her head at each of them as they scooped up a handful of snow and started to form it in their hands. They waited on the ground, whispering to themselves, until finally, Alan and Nicol stepped over to see what they were looking at.

           “Is there something particularly interesting about this spot?” Alan asked.

           The girls leapt up as one and whirled around to toss their snowballs at the boys. Keith, the only one expecting such an attack, ducked behind Geordo and let Katarina’s snowball land in the sweet spot between his shoulder and chest. Alan and Nicol received the brunt of the attack, being so close to the girls. Alan burst out laughing and dropped down to prepare himself for defensive action. And with that, the battle commenced.

           Snowballs flew back and forth, tossed between noble boys and girls without a care as to how silly they might have looked. The girls took their positions behind the benches, while the boys dared to stand out in the open courtyard. At some point, a snowball from Alan’s hand wound up nailing Geordo in the back of the head, and the game turned from a team effort into a free for all. A few students walking past the courtyard leapt out of the way as incoming snowballs landed in the walkway.

           “How do we even determine a winner?” Maria finally shouted as she dodged an incoming snowball from Keith.

           Katarina stood up and threw one that met her brother’s forehead with apparent ease.

           “If you get hit, you’re out!” she said, laughing.

           Keith frowned.

           “Aw, big sister!” he said. “That’s not fair!”

           Ignoring him, Katarina started aiming for her next victim, Geordo. He slipped out of the way, and the snowball hit Mary on the shoulder. The next snowball Katarina threw stopped short in front of Nicol, who had resorted to using his wind magic to stop it from hitting him.

           “Hey, that’s cheating!” Mary exclaimed.

           Katarina thought she detected a hint of a smile on Nicol’s face.

           “Oh-ho,” she said. “Using magic is allowed now, I see!”

           Geordo frowned and shook his head.

           “Really, only wind magic would be helpful here…” he muttered.

           His commentary was quickly nullified when Alan made use of his water magic as a shield. With no rules in place aside from “don’t get hit,” the use of different types of magic didn’t matter; water, fire, and wind all made excellent shields against Katarina’s onslaught, protecting the remaining participants from her powerful throws on all sides. But try as they might, she had her ways of getting around their shields.

           All it took was clever aim when dealing with Geordo—he rarely used his fire magic, so she took the opportunities where he was using manpower alone to throw in his direction. He was out within a few minutes. Nicol and Sophia’s wind magic proved difficult, but she knew how to throw a good curveball, slipping past their defenses to catch first Nicol, then, after a lucky shot that caught Mary in the side, she took the opportunity to also take out Sophia. Maria had been mostly dodging, having no magic powers that were particularly useful in this sort of fight, and was out before she knew it.

           Katarina focused on Alan last. He was spectacularly difficult, his water magic proving to be the perfect shield in this cold. The water shields were solid enough to stop every snowball she hurled in his direction. It was a battle of wills. She would throw them as hard as she could, and Alan would block them whenever possible. Their competitive auras filled the courtyard, and the others gathered around to see how this match would end. They held their breath until finally, one lone snowball smashed through Alan’s defenses and hit him right in the center of his chest. Surprised, he fell over backwards into the snow.

           “I win!” Katarina cried.

           She pumped her fists in the air, celebrating her victory. The girls gathered around her and congratulated her on her win. She stepped out of the group and reached a hand out to help Alan up. They shared a knowing smile, one that two rivals would share after an intense competition. She helped Alan up to his feet and then gave him a firm handshake.

           “Nice game,” she said, grinning up at him.

           He nodded.

           “The same to you,” he said, returning it with a small smirk.

           Maria walked over between them, smiling cheerfully as she looked around at everyone.

           “Now, how about some cookies and hot chocolate to warm us all up?” she offered.

           Katarina clasped her hands together over her chest and could hardly contain her excitement.

           “Let’s go!” she said. “Maria’s sweets are waiting!”

           Shaking their heads lovingly, Katarina’s friends followed after her, grateful to be out of the cold for a nice treat. Not one of them would raise a complaint about her rather unladylike behavior, though word managed to make it back to Lady Claes through some presently unknown means. Her mother’s impending scolding blissfully far out of sight, Katarina practically skipped into the lounge to treat herself to Maria’s winter treats.

           The rest of the morning was spent quite warmly by the fireplace, as they laughed, talked, and shared Maria’s fresh gingerbread cookies with cups of steaming cocoa. It reminded Katarina of something she’d nearly forgotten from her past life. Perhaps, someday, she’d introduce her new friends to such things. For now, she was happy to enjoy a snowball fight and finish it up with a lovely batch of the best sweets she’d ever tasted.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Penny and Scamp chapter 2

Finally after fighting with my heat fried brain for days! This drabble is finally finished!!

Thank you guys so much for proofreading this and giving me all those super sweet and extremely helpful tips and comments. <3 @haro-whumps and @finder-of-rings

The whole guard dog concept was developed by the amazing @moose-teeth Mooses guard dog series inspired me a lot and its really amazing <3

Taglist: @eatyourdamnpears

CW: institutionalised slavery typical for the boxboy universe, dehuminasation, stress position, muzzled, mention of handler being beaten to death (very brief), fucked up headspace of whumpee, 

932 is hurt.

The freezing air that had settled in the facility’s every creak and corner made 875’s muscles spasm as he tried to get his trembling legs to stand. 

Must protect him.

Thick leather cuffs pinned his hands against an icy tile wall and his eyes swam with tears while he fought against them.  The training room was a white blur, a void threatening to swallow him whole, colder and vaster than it had ever been before, now that 932 wasn’t by his side.

Where are you?

He bit down on the muzzle’s bit so hard his teeth ached, unable to scream for his other half, his completion.

They were 875932. A pair. A whole. They couldn’t be without the other. 

I promised. I promised. I will protect you 932!

Short strands of black, rugged hair clung to his sweaty forehead as he rubbed his flushed, burning face against his shoulder, again and again in a vain attempt to loosen the muzzle. It was too warm, too sticky with spit and sweat as it dug deep into his chafed skin and set his nerves afire. The need to get it off grew unbearable. But 875’s screams died in his head. Imperceptible to anyone but him.

I will find you. 932 wait for me!

A heartbeat loud like battle drums thundered through his skull, sent waves of pain through shaking limbs. It pulsed behind tear-crusted eyes and burnt holes into his heart. Panic filled his lungs like burning iron, hot and heavy, leaving him unable to breathe around the muzzle and the snot that clogged his nose. 

He hadn’t been able to hold back his tears in those first few hours as the drugs his handlers had put him on had begun to wear off. The inescapable twilight state his mind had been trapped in had finally given way to a semblance of clarity, only for him to realize he was trapped in a different kind of hell. A hell that left him immersed in white light and utter horrific loneliness. The smell of scorching flesh as his other had been dragged away by handlers, screaming and thrashing in their unyielding grips, had become his unrelenting tormentor. 

875 hadn’t heard the soft beep and swish of the opening door at first, nor the three handlers who had entered, accompanied by a blonde woman clad in a black suit. Her hair was pinned in an updo with the same meticulous precision it must have taken to paint her rosy complexion. A hint of rouge and blood red lips. 

“Impressive, that his other half really went so far as to pour boiling water over himself.”

875’s head snapped up so violently his vision spun from the whiplash.  Glad to be trained to withstand the feeling of dizziness impairing his senses, he forced his attention on the intruder.

Focus. Focus. Breathe. Focus. The woman. Threat or safe?  Red smile in a white void. Talked about 932. Breathe. Listen!

The soles of her polished Oxfords echoed through the room as she approached him with wide strides, halting only centimeters in front of his bound, kneeling form. 

The handlers behind her exchanged nervous glances, wary and unwilling to get any closer to 875 than absolutely necessary. The incident from three days ago had bitten deep into their bones, fear sat still buried there unwilling to let go.   

No one had thought it possible for a Boxboy, not even a guard dog, to maim five handlers and kill a sixth. Yet, despite all their security measures it had happened. An unforgettable demonstration of how dangerous the guard dog program could really be. Hard knuckles and trained muscle had conquered black batons and steel tipped boots.

 “Please, Miss Tormadosa,” the handler near her began, his narrow blue eyes fixed on 875. “Don’t get so close to it. It’s not safe for a delicate young lady.”

The woman’s suit jacket rustled as she twisted around and leveled the bulky blond-haired man with a piercing stare. Her perfectly plugged eyebrow quirked up. “I’m neither delicate nor a ‘young lady.’ I am, however, perfectly capable of handling a restrained and muzzled Boxboy.”

The handler’s face flushed, if from embarrassment or anger was hard to tell, as he stumbled over his excuse of an apology. “It’s just… I didn’t mean to-“

“I know what you meant.” Her calm voice cut him off as she crouched down in front of 875. “And I corrected you.”

Not daring to object her, the three handlers watched as she cupped 875 chin with fine boned fingers and bit their tongues in ways unfamiliar to them.

The guard dogs dark eyes found hers and her razorblade smile sent a shiver down his spine.

“It’s easy to tame a beast when it has a heart.”

A cold gentle hand lifted his head. “And 932 is your heart, isn’t he?”

Miss Tormadosa’s words ghosted over his skin, a warm breath smelling of mint and hope. They pulled him towards her and he strained his shoulders to the point of near dislocation as he leaned forward, terrified to miss the quietest of whispers if it would tell him what happened to his other. His joints hurt, twisted out of place alongside his heart as pain closed his throat, more effectively than any muzzle ever could. Still, a low whine tore past quivering lips and thick black leather and 875 shuddered at the way the woman’s smile softened, morphed into something akin to tenderness at his despair. Long delicate fingertips ghosted over his cheek. He did not dare to pull away.

“I know. I know,” she cooed. “Poor thing. You miss your friend. Being all alone must be so, so terrifying.” Her hand wandered up his temple, tousled his black greasy hair and scratched affectionately over his scalp. It sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine, warm little prickles and cold needles danced under his skin, but 875 did not allow himself to move. He fought against the urge to melt under her affection, focusing on her every word instead. Black eyes clung to red lips moving over white teeth.

 “What would you say, my sweet boy, if I took you both home with me? You and your friend?”

875 breath hitched.

Home? The both of us? Together? With her? New owner? Me and 932? I can see him again?!

His neck cracked audibly as he nodded, hasty like a bobble-head toy and new tears spilled over his cheeks, dampening the muzzle as they dripped down onto the floor. Liquidized pain burning hot against ice cold tiles.  

She wiped them from his feverish face, chuckling softly. “I thought so. But let’s hear you say it.”

The quick steps of heavy boots had 875 jerk against his restraints. The handlers had drawn their batons and hurried to his new master’s side.

He had to protect her!

He couldn’t protect her bound like this.

“Ma’am we must ask you to stop. You can’t remove its muzzle. It’s not safe.”

You are the ones who are not safe!

Miss Tormadosa’s hands rested on his trembling shoulders as she paused. Her warm brown eyes never strayed from his face.

“This whole ordeal,” she answered sharply, tolerating no further opposition, “is for me to test the products' safety. That’s what your superior insisted on. So, gentleman let me inspect him properly.”

Unease was written large across the handlers faces as they stopped, batons still resting in their palms. Grinding his teeth the blued eyed man stepped closer, the sound of his heavy leather boots thundering through the small room. His voice was awfully quiet, a roaring beast tampered down to a venomous hiss. “This thing should be taken down, not sold. You haven’t seen what he-“

“I saw the tapes,” The woman snapped as she stood and turned around. “I know what he did. It was exactly what he’d been trained for; protect the people designated to him and eliminate possible threats. It’s not 875’s failing if WRU is unequipped to handle its own creations.”

Head spinning with the warm whirlpool of praise, 875 gazed up at his potential owner.

I fulfilled my duty. Like they trained me. I did the right thing. Ma’am understands.

“So my sweet.” She crouched down again, holding one perfectly manicured finger up as if she’d lectured a child. “If you want to be mine and see 932 again, you have to behave now. Can you do that for me darling?”

Eyes flickered from the finger to her warm smile 857’s heart somersaulted at the possibility to reunite with his other. To feel 932’s soft copper curls against his cheek again when they curled up together, limbs tangled, fingers cupping the shape of ribs finding a home in the soft indentations between them seemingly made for this very moment. One perfect mosaic.

 Two pieces who hadn’t known the other even existed before they became each other’s completion.

857 nodded feverishly, trying to convey all of his gratitude, his devotion with this movement alone.

“Excellent.”

He still didn’t speak as deft fingers undid the muzzles and the silicone bit left his mouth with a quiet wet plop. Instead he nuzzled into the woman’s palm, whining softly at the tender touch while he awaited her orders, eyes dazed, glossed over with adoration. This woman took the muzzle away, banished his fear with one promise alone. She kept the handlers at heel and 932 safe. He could do anything for her. An owner showing him such kindness was more than he’d ever dreamed of and exactly what his other deserved.

“Well, fuck me,” one of the handlers whispered.

 Rubbing gentle circles over 857’s aching yaw and making his eyes flutter, Miss Tormadosa grinned.

 “Will you be my good little guard dog and obey my every command?”

Bowing down as far as his throbbing restrained arms would allow it, he rasped, “Yes ma’am. I’ll be your weapon. Please, use me in any way you wish.”

Her warm laugh echoed through the room while she petted his head. 857 allowed himself to melt into her touch this time, bucking into her palm as a soft whine escaped his chapped lips.

“My, my look at that. Such an eager boy. You and your friend shall be mine,” his master declared. “From now on you two exist solely to serve me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Everything felt right and wonderful, finally fallen into place.

875932 had a master now. Together. They would serve.

.chapter1

chapter3

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

the 1

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s relationship throughout the years.

Word count: 2404

Warnings: smut implied, loss of virginity implied, mention of alcohol abuse, mention of abandonment

Previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 26

Year: 2020

Location: Brooklyn, New York

Elizabeth sat on the floor of her mostly empty childhood bedroom. She hasn't been back since Christmas, and that was almost 8 months ago. Her parents called her last month letting her know they are putting the house up for sale, deciding to move to a cottage upstate where it's much quieter.

They had asked if she wanted them to pack up her old bedroom for her, but she told them she would make the trip out to them to spare any storage space the stuff might take up, knowing that only a few special items would need to be kept.

She was sat on the floor going through old photos, the last thing she had to do before she would be done.

Photos from the time she spent here. A pile for which photos she will take back home, and a pile that her parents will keep. She was finally down to the last three photos, all flipped over on their back.

The first one scribbled in her mother's handwriting read:

Steve, Betty, & James. Halloween 2001.

She shakes her head at the nickname, she hasn't been called Betty in almost a decade. The nickname was tarnished, no longer having any special meaning.

She really should've kept it only for family.

She flipped the photo over. There was seven year-old Elizabeth, standing in between a young Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes both had their arms draped around her shoulders. All dressed up as pirates.

She smiled at the memory.

So young. So innocent. So unknowing of what the future held.

She focuses mostly on the boy to her right.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Her first friend here. Her first best friend. Her first kiss.

Her first boyfriend. Her first time having sex. Her first heartbreak.

The boy at the time she didn't know would completely change not only her life, but who she was.

Her first best friend here, she immediately thinks of their first meeting. So kind. Him insisting on teaching her how to ride a bike. Took him two weeks but he did it. That halloween was a memorable one, for both good and bad reasons.

She saw a different side of Bucky after seeing first-hand how his father behaved, due to his alcoholism.

Years later Elizabeth had learned Bucky's father's deepest secret, he had struggled with alcoholism, starting two years before her family moved across the street. It was a secret his family had kept until that Halloween weekend in 2001.

Bucky and his family had spent the weekend with Elizabeth's family, while his uncles came to take his dad away. His father went to go live with Bucky's grandmother and uncles to try and get sober. He returned home after three months, but sadly the disease was a lot stronger than that. His father was fighting a long battle that he was sadly losing.

After a grueling year his mother made the ultimate decision to divorce his father, not wanting to put herself or her children through the dangers once again. Bucky's maternal grandparents moved in to help his now single mother out, seeing as his father was no longer in the picture.

His dad would pop in from time to time never consistent with his visits, after Bucky turned 13 and Becca 10, his dad stopped coming around all together.

His father ended up meeting a woman who helped him get sober, they later on got married and started a new family of their own. Forgetting about the one he had abandoned.

The next photo was dated:

Summer of 2008.

The summer right before they started high school. That was the summer that they all reached peak puberty. Bucky and Steve shot up like weeds, while Elizabeth grew slightly in height. They no longer looked like the pre-pubescent tweens, and officially looked teenagers embarking on their first year of high school.

It was a candid photo of Bucky and Elizabeth at an end of summer party Steve had at his house.

The night of their first kiss together, and Elizabeth's first kiss in general.

It wasn't a cliche kiss that happened because a game of spin the bottle. It was a little more private than that.

Bucky and Elizabeth made their way back home on that cool summer night. The nights had just started to get cooler as the months made the transition from August to September.

"Do you think Steve knows how obvious he's making his crush on Peggy is?" Elizabeth asks breaking the silence of the walk.

"Probably not, I mean the punk is way to oblivious to notice that Peggy also has a crush on him," Bucky laughs, "Plus he's too chicken to even make a move."

"He's just shy," Elizabeth smiles, trying to defend her other best friend.

"Well he isn't going to get the girl by being shy," Bucky says.

"That's what you think," she winks at him.

"What do you know?" he asks her with an accusatory tone.

"That Peggy is going to ask him to go to the movies tomorrow night," Elizabeth recalled from her earlier conversation with Peggy, "That's why she stayed to help cleanup."

"Well then, I stand corrected," he bows his head.

"We should do that," Bucky says after a few moments of silence as they round the corner their houses now in sight.

"Help clean Steve's house?" Elizabeth asked confused.

"No, go to the movies."

"We already do that."

"I meant just us two, no Steve or Rebecca to tag along," Bucky reiterates.

"Like a date," he quietly says looking at his hands.

"Oh," it dawns on Elizabeth.

She felt a blush creep on her cheeks. The cool breeze not helping the warmth spreading throughout her face.

Elizabeth has had a crush on Bucky for as long as she can remember. She just always thought he would never see her in that light. Compared to the girls he's used to liking, she was the polar opposite. Her skin wasn't as pale as their's, she had what her mother called a "Puerto Rican" tan due to where her family lineage is originally from. Her dark curls were always everywhere, even when she had them contained. It's not like she stood out per se, they were surrounded by diversity. She just didn't look like the girls Bucky had a crush on.

"You want to go out on a date, with me?" she hesitantly asks.

"Yeah, I do," he smiles finally looking up to meet her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I like you," he says confused why she would ask that.

"It's okay if you don't want to, I understand," he quickly says when she doesn't say anything. He goes back to looking down and kicking at invisible rocks.

"No," she says grabbing his hand, making them both stop in front of her house, "I do want that."

Bucky looks back up taken back by her response, "Really?"

"Yeah, I would love to go on a date with you," she smiled so big.

"Okay, wow. Cool," Bucky stumbles over his words, his smile matching her's.

"Tomorrow, you and I will go to the movies," he says, squeezing his hand that was still being held by her.

"Perfect."

"Perfect," he whispered staring in her eyes, he glanced down to her lips then back to her eyes.

Elizabeth noticed bucking glancing at her lips, she couldn't help herself and do the same thing.

Bucky grabbed her other hand as he slowly pulled her closer to his body. Leaning his head slightly down. Both closed their eyes and slowly met each other half way, their lips touching in a soft kiss.

What felt like hours, but was only seconds they pulled away slowly. Smiles gracing their faces.

"I'll call you tomorrow for the details," Bucky says.

"Okay. Goodnight," Elizabeth says, still holding onto Bucky's hands.

"Goodnight," Bucky smiles, letting go of her hands before jogging across the street.

Elizabeth had walked up to her porch and turned around to see Bucky turning around from his own porch. She waved and he waved back, their final goodbye for the night.

That was the perfect end to the summer before they had started high school. It was the start of something new and beautiful.

The last photo read:

Winnie and Keith's wedding. 11 Aug. 2010.

She flipped it over to see her and Bucky smiling dressed in formal attire, next to Steve and Peggy.

Bucky's mom did later remarry while they were in high school. She had met a lovely man named Keith, who loved her deeply and her children as if they were his own. He was a good man, someone Bucky really needed in his life.

The photo was taken during the reception. Bright smiles across all of their 16 year old faces.

Both couples had been dating for two years at that point and things were going great.

The smiles showcased how happy they all were. Probably had to do with what they all had planned after the wedding.

They had all convinced their parents into letting them stay at the hotel the reception was at that night, and Bucky would drive them all back home the following day. Their parents had agreed, the only rule is that the girls would stay in a room separately from the boys.

What they know wouldn't hurt them, right?

It was the night they were all planning on losing their virginity. Their hormones were racing, trying to keep it contained as to not draw attention to themselves:

After the wedding they all walked up to the floor they would be staying at. Bucky waited outside the girls' door as Elizabeth gathered her overnight bag, and Steve doing the same from the boys' room.

She walked out with her bag on her shoulder, and a smile on her face.

"Ready?" he asked, grabbing her bag from her shoulder.

"Yeah," she nodded, feeling the nerves start.

Steve walked up to them with his own bag, "See you guys in the morning," he smiled before walking into the room, closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth could remember that night clearly. She had done a lot of prep beforehand, being an overachiever she needed to know what she was getting herself into. But nothing could prepare her for what had really happened.

It was filled with a lot of stumbling, awkward touches here and there. Both new to this sex thing. She's not going to lie and said it didn't hurt, she had prepared herself for it hurting. It wasn't the best sex she's had, but it was a moment she wouldn't forget.

After they were done they were cuddled in bed, Elizabeth's head resting on Bucky's chest as he smoothly raked his fingers across her arm.

"11:11, make a wish," Elizabeth whispered, closing her eyes.

"What'd you wish for?" Bucky asked.

"How many times do I have to tell you," she said, turning her body to lean on his chest to come face to face with him, "I can't tell you what I wish for, otherwise it won't come true."

"And how many times do I have to tell you, that that's not true," he teased.

"Well, you have yet to prove me wrong," she smiled.

"Come on, just this once."

"You," she stated, feeling the blush creep on her cheeks.

"What about me?"

"I wished for you," she says, "You and I. For us to have many more moments like this."

"Well doll, your wish is my command," he joked.

"I'm serious Bucky."

"So am I," his tone getting serious, "I love you Betty. It's you and me. Forever."

"Promise?" she held up her pinky.

"Promise." he linked his with hers.

They trusted each other. They were comfortable with each other. They had loved each other. And honestly that's all that mattered.

Now as an adult she realized how important your first time was. It was important that her first time was with Bucky, because she never regretted until she had.

She had really thought Bucky was the one. They would always talk about their futures together. What college they would attend together. When they would get married. Where they would live. How many kids they would have. All of it they had planned together. A future that didn't seem like just a dream.

Sadly with every first love comes every first heartbreak.

Her grandmother once told her that the greatest loves of all time were over now.

She had thought that when her relationship with Bucky had ended.

It truly felt like the end of the world. Like any breakup at that age felt like. She had sworn she would never feel love again. Her mother, Caterina telling her to just wait and see.

Caterina didn't believe in her own mother's words about greatest loves being over, because she was experiencing her's. She promised Elizabeth that she would experience her greatest love story when the time was right.

At the time Elizabeth didn't believe her mother. How could she when her heart was aching.

But like all the times before, her mother would be right.

She looked at  the last three photos in her hands. Without a second thought she placed the Halloween photo in the take pile and the other two in the parents' pile.

A soft knock on the door frame startled her, she looked behind to find the man she has called her's for the last few years. Her greatest love.

She couldn't help the smile that came across her face whenever she would see him.

"Ready?" he asks, a smile upon his face, as he leans up against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, let me just put these back in the box for my parents," she tells him cleaning up the photos and taking the ones she kept for herself.

"Look at this one I found," she says showing him the Halloween photo.

"Oh my gosh, we were so little," he smiles and laughs lightly raising his arm for her to go under, "Gosh I was such a dork."

"Was?" she playfully jokes, wrapping her arm around his waist and snuggling into his side as they head towards the stairs in each other's arms.

"Hey you fell in love with this dork," he jokes back.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way Steve," she smiles leaning up to kiss his lips.

[heyitsbugette]

Todobug: Fallen lover.

The spotted heroine was out with her team for a regular round of patrol, finding herself just a few meters from the girls to plan the rute alongside Chat Noir. She constantly ignored his attentions, but when he took her hand trying to kiss the back, with her opposite she invoked a lucky charm out of curiosity, winning a small spray bottle with which she sprayed on his feline friend.

──── Bad Kitty! Behave! Behave!

She exclaimed, spraying her partner, watching him contract through the water as if he were a small cat taking a bath, making her laugh mockingly next to the turtle hero who stayed next to them contracting against his stomach to laugh at the blonde’s childish reactions. Lately the heroes have gotten much closer as the meetings get more and more enjoyable, sometimes taking a few breaks to chat or joke with each other.

This was one of those days, being a fairly quiet time to afford that luxury that on rare occasions they could joke around. For today the only ones who were absent were Viperion, Roi Singe, and Pegase, but soon it would be their turn on the night patrol. And while both boys were organizing to cover ground next to Ladybug, it was that both Rena Rouge and Queen Bee looked puzzled at the initial duo of heroes at the same time while Ryuko sitting on a pile of bricks next to them sharpened her sword patiently without much interest.

It wasn't until the beautiful-looking blonde snorted as she touched up her lipstick that when she uttered a word, she broke the ice, paying attention to her reflection in the portable mirror that she carried with her even in battle. And at once her lips took on a little more color, she looked out of the corner of her eye at the heroine in a fox costume, ready to start conversation.

──── And ... Are you sure these two are just friends? Huh, I'm suspecting that the Ladybug's alleged boyfriend scandal is actually fake news of that infamous Alec Cataldi guy.

The blonde wasn't exactly discreet when she looked away from her mirror to turn and look skeptically at the dynamic duo fighting childishly as they calmed down to begin their part of the patrol, both walking away with Carapace jumping from roof to roof.

Instead, the young Japanese woman who calmly held her sword, settled into her seat crossing her legs with a quick movement. For a few thoughtful moments, she rested her gaze indifferently on her mate, while resting both hands on the handle of her sword, glancing sideways at the direction in which her superiors were leaving.

──── Believe it or not, she is in a relationship with Todoroki-san, and we must respect that, Queen Bee. It is not very honorable that you speak of him like this when he is not present to defend himself.

It was her answer said with a little bit of hostility, since clearly the foreigner hated gossip and to people talking cowardly behind them back. She did not know the guy in question well enough to consider him a friend, but he had been cordial in those events in which their parents had coincided.

Of course, it was a shock to learn that he was the mysterious boy Chat Noir was constantly complaining about standing between him and ��his lady”. However, she couldn't blame them for their relationship being now seen in the public eye, after how an annoying low morality TV presenter had exposed the couple without their consent, robbing them of the opportunity to reveal their relationship when they were ready. It was so unpleasant, but she remembered with satisfaction how the Ladyblogger reported such an invasion of privacy on her blog, causing so much backlash to the man.

Some karma was dealt after that.

And although her words were almost interrupted by a fox lady in a bright orange suit, far from being annoyed, she continued her own business by returning her attention to the weapon even as she paid attention to the girl who questioned her words.

──── As much as I hate the shit Cataldi pull on them, the guy don't give me good vibes... I mean he's stupidly cold even with her. It seems he doesn't even care that Ladybug is in love with him!

The fox's heroine commented annoyed, while the blonde bee buzzed with excitement, agreeing with the words of her comrade. Neither of them seemed to believe Endeavor's son as the one for Ladybug, the national angel of France.

──── I know damn right the guy is hot, I'm not blind. But he's so... Uninteresting that he loses his charm. I think we all agree that our little bug can easily get someone better, my Adrikins is dying for her and I don't blame him, I don't even know who to be jealous of.

The blonde commented in a playful tone while she fixed some strands of hair ruffled by the wind, and putting on the final touches of the lipstick with her hand mirror, she closed the end at once to cross her arms later. It was obvious that her words were anything but kind, because even when Rena agreed that her heroine should seek someone else, it was equally clear that she did not approve of being so cruel when speaking of the aspiring hero. Chloe, on the other hand, was still taking small steps to be friendlier, but the change was gradual and she didn't avoid releasing hurtful comments on rare occasions.

No one refuted anything, it was not worth it and among the three they ended up leaving finally once their rest ended, ready to resume their patrol, perhaps hopefully catching up with the rest of their teammates.

Todoroki Shoto was just leaving the Le Grand Paris, where he was staying with his family, his father apparently had work pending in Paris and they would be spending the summer outside of Japan.

He keeping silent and walking beside his older brother for as long as their paths coincided, after all he did not plan to follow him any longer; he had his own plans going. He had reserved a table in a restaurant that was close to her girlfriend's home, clearly paying with his old man's credit card with the bonus of bothering him, and of course thanks to his action he ended up earning a tremendous shout from the older one, but that did not matter, he just wanted to pamper his beloved.

──── So.. Have any plans, kid?

Asked the curious albino while chilling at the side of his brother. He and his penpal Luka Couffaine would hang out at the mall and then go to the disco store, it was clear that he wanted to see if the youngest of the family was free to accompany them.

──── I'm going out with my girlfriend once she comes back from patrolling with her team.

He answered calmly, taking out his phone when he felt it vibrate for a few seconds, surely his sister had called him to scold him for what he did with the credit card, but from seeing the angry expression on the older man's face he could say that it was worth it worth the scolding.

──── Ah? So, are you're really dating? I thought you were joking when you told us.

The college student spoke with a little laugh, noticing how his sibling looked at him confused. Suddenly the punk looking teenager gave him a discreet push with his shoulder to shut him up, an action that made him finally react.

And it was not for less, he had really been surprised to hear the albino's words, which shows with his changing facial expression. And while the double quirked teen questioned his words with his typical seriousness, it was remarkable for the man, for his slipt he keeps laughing nervously and even uncomfortably at the heterochromatic stare.

──── And… why did you think that?

──── Hey, chill... I didn't mean it like that, but you guys don't really seem like a couple. You know, you don't show it much. B-But I know you must love her a lot, of course!

Realizing how insensitive his words were, as well as how prejudiced he sounded when saying them, Natsuo ended up hiding behind a certain guitarist who shook his head gently and placed his arm between the two boys in a crude attempt at protection in what they both looked like. Instead of getting angry, the half redhead hung his head in surprise, grimacing seconds later, looking at them this time with a frown, clearly offended and annoyed.

──── Don't take it the wrong way, Shoto. You know that Natsuo can be somewhat naive and reckless, it was not his intention to offend you.

──── See you tomorrow, Couffaine…

Without saying anything else, he turns away into the flower shop, leaving behind the guys with whom he had had a bitter revelation. It was the only thing he said, annoyingly walking away in the opposite direction. Didn't they really seem like a real couple? The young man knew that he was not very expressive with his feelings, but he never thought it would be so bad. He continued his walking now without much encouragement, looking even more serious than usual if that was possible, but he was still determined to prove to himself that Natsuo was wrong. Perhaps if he made an effort to make his night with her girlfriend perfect, he could show his love for her, although it was difficult for him to show his feelings. But that did not mean that he wouldn't do his best to try.

So, he continued walking until he reached the picturesque place, entering and buying a bouquet of flowers, cheering up little by little. He left the place much calmer, even motivated, eager to meet his dear ladybug; but it was not until he heard three female voices talking about him and his lovely girfriend without any hesitation, that without being able to avoid it with strangeness he raised his face to watch the heroines speak from the roof of the building animatedly, being the blonde the loudest among the three.

Little by little he felt worse and worse with each word. Was he such a bad boyfriend? Marinette thought the same as her friends?

Once the heroines left the Japanese boy sat on one of the benches, leaving his bouquet of flowers beside him, running his hands over his hair. Maybe they were right, maybe he was giving less to the relationship than his girlfriend deserved, maybe he was throwing her into the arms of another guy with his attitude. Suddenly he felt an upset stomach just thinking about it, it wasn't a nice feeling.

At the same time his discomfort was escalating and frustrated, he bent down looking at the bouquet of roses with an unsatisfied gaze, remembering how the cat hero used to give her a flower every day during the time that his relationship with her was a secret to the public. He remembered the jealousy he repressed every time Chat Noir tried to seduce his heroine, every flirtatious and cheesy nickname said in the midst of battles, as even when she rejected him, he was still motivated to win her love.

He recalled the mistrust he had for Luka when he mentioned his feelings for a certain baker's daughter, but he quickly dispelled his insecurities when he knew that Couffaine would never try anything with her. In his words he remembered how the eldest simply said that “her melody had found her own rhapsody,” whatever that meant. It was much worse when he find out about the past feelings his Maribug used to have towards Adrien Agreste, but detesting him made him feel guilty, the boy was also too kind for his own good.

He needed advice, it was not a good sign to be so insecure or jealous. But he was just a confused teenager in his first relationship, they couldn't blame him for his inexperience.

Todoroki Shoto, Memories. A couple days ago.

During finals a certain pigtail lady had sneaked to Japan with the equine kwami’s help, of course, she missed her long-distance boyfriend as much as she knows he missed her too, and surprising her lover from behind she didn’t hesitate into hugging him sideways, laughing and playing with their noses in an soft Eskimo kiss. A couple minutes later, he took her by the waist just to give his girlfriend room to sit on his lap, while both kwamis hovered curiously around the room towards one of the hero magazines.

──── Not that it bothers me for you to come see me, actually I enjoy it, but what are you doing here?

──── I needed a break ... If I hear Lila say how she introduced you to Ladybug again, I will lose my patience, mon trésor.

With a snort the young woman let herself lean on her lover's shoulder, listening to him laugh vaguely with that unmistakable grimace on his lips, without a doubt the double quirk teen was just as entertained of the situation than he should be.

──── She's still into her fantasies? Should I be scared?

──── Not worth it.

In a mocking tone the eldest played with his beloveds’ lips, approaching to touch them tenderly just to move away when his muse deigned to reciprocate. From one moment to the next, he earned her frown, and it was when he saw her pout that he finally let himself be caught, feeling the plump and pink lips against his, sharing the cherry flavor of her usual chapstick.

When closing his eyes in duo with his sun sunshine girl, one of his hands fixed on her cheek tenderly as he passed his thumb over the blush, while in an ephemeral separation to discharge his heavy breath in a second, they again kissed again. Much more shy tan before.

──── Please come tomorrow… If not, who's going to kick my ass in Ultimate Mecha Strike?

Little could he know that his scattered thoughts made Gabriel Agreste smile with discretion, as he, after sending one of his models to their wardrobe test in the care of their star designers, was that he hung up the call by video-chat once he delegated the activities of the day to Nathalie and went calmly towards the portrait of his beloved Emilie, caressing gracefully the illustration on her lips, in a silent conversation with himself.

He would have another chance to save her.

──── Oh, disappointment and jealousy ~ Powerful feelings from the hand of the lover that will bring my victory ... Simply poetic. Get ready, Ladybug! It will be the person who has your very own heart who will bring your defeat to me. So, fly my little Akuma, and possess Endeavor's son!

Ignorant of what was happening, were his racing heartbeats and his concern about losing the girl he had fallen in love with, without notice he caught the attention of a certain villain who triumphantly prepare one of his akumas to leave outside of his lair as he walked in the direction of his butterfly window ready for send his tiny henchman in search of the tormented teenager boy whose peace was disturbed. Humming, Hawkmoth smiled poisonously, capturing in his hands the tiny being whom he filled with negative energy, and in the end commanding them with his stick for catch his target.

Earlier when news of the heroine's romance leaked, he simply didn't rush into acting. He wasn't an idiot, he knew how dangerous it was to villainize the wrong people at the wrong time, he learned it the hard way with certain failed villains. But now, it was the perfect timing for him.

The akuma fluttered from the sky until found the source of such intense negative feelings, it could feel them for miles, and when the time came it was easier to be able to catch him without being noticed. Without missing the opportunity to melt into the bouquet of roses that the brokean hearted boy held so sadly, linking without opportunity to fight in a forced communication with the most feared villain in Paris at the moment when the butterfly communicator managed to get a surprised sigh out of him.

──── Greetings, Heartstroke. I am your friend, Hawkmoth. I have felt your fear of losing the love of your heroine, as everyone sees you as an obstacle. I promise to give you the power to punish whoever dares to take her away from you, and prove them wrong... But there is something you must do for me in return.

His words were poisonous, said with false concern and artificial charisma, selling to his victim the idea that would solve their problems once and for all, but the minor's doubt internally annoyed the criminal, he hated when his victims became resistant.

──── No, I won't give you her miraculous…

──── Don't be naive, son. Every Ladybug is destined for her Black Cat. Creation and destruction cannot live without the other. I offer you the opportunity to free her from her destiny. And what do you say? Do you accept my offer?

The half albino quickly covered his ears, while biting his trembling lip closed at the same time, he closed his eyes, unable to resist the intense connection with Hawkmoth any longer. But with each spoken word he felt increasingly furious, helpless, more insecure. To Paris, he was just a busybody, someone who kept Ladybug away from her one true love, the one who truly cared about her; as with every threatening mail they insinuated that he should get away and look for someone else, that he should stop confusing Lady luck's feelings. He couldn't handle it anymore, he was only human after all, and naturally he was selfish.

Selfish for wanting a future with her.

──── It will be a pleasure, Hawkmoth.

With a simple scaling flash of light, the bicolor eyed boy’s body was enveloped until it disappeared into a new metamorphosis, a different appearance drifted away from his usual looks.

Goodbye Todoroki Shoto, let's meet Heartstroke.

[jaybear1701]

Chapter Summary: Raelle and Scylla get a bit, um, physical with their training before Scylla must leave on a new mission.

Scylla’s fist slammed against the punching bag, the blow reverberating up her right arm to her elbow and shoulder. She jabbed with her left, then followed it with a right hook and a left uppercut. Muscles burning, it felt good to release all the pent up frustration that had been steadily building over the past few weeks. Here, she didn’t have to think about the Spree, the Army, or the Camarilla. Didn’t have to think about Anacostia and her lofty expectations, or about Willa and her growing disappointment. 

And, most importantly, it kept her mind off Raelle.

She threw a particularly vicious right cross, powered by an unintentional Seed sound, sending her poor workout partner flying into the air. Cassidy landed a few meters away, the impact echoing loudly throughout the empty rough room. It was early enough that they would still have the space to themselves for at least a few minutes more before it would be crammed full of eager War College soldiers. 

“O-kay,” Cassidy groaned as she rolled to her side, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position. “I think I’ve had about enough of that.”

“Sorry, Cass.” Scylla walked over, clasped Cassidy’s wrist, and helped pull her to her feet. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Wincing, Cassidy palmed the back of her head, just under her ponytail. “Sadly, this’ll probably be the highlight of my day.” 

“Training’s going that well?” Scylla wiped sweat from her forehead with a small towel, and flapped her sleeveless gray shirt to cool off.

“I think that one mean sergeant with, uh, you know, the eyes… the scary eyes. Quartermaine?” Cassidy shuddered. “I thought she was for sure gonna liquefy me because they weren’t ready for the next mission. Actually, she’d probably do it anyway if she caught you and me,” she curled her fingers into air quotes, “fraternizing.”

Scylla chuckled. “Try not to let Anacostia scare you.”

“Is this where you tell me her bark is worse than her bite?” Cassidy gave her a skeptical side-eye.

“Oh no, they’re equally terrifying,” Scylla half-grinned, walking to the edge of a sparring mat and exchanging her towel for a water bottle. “Just try not to let her scare you, anyway.” 

“Great, thanks,” Cassidy muttered, grabbing her own drink and guzzling it down. “Between her and Collar’s kid, I’m not sure who hates me more.”

Scylla’s hand stilled as she brought the bottle to her lips. “You’ve, um, met Raelle?” She kept her voice light and uninterested, hoping it belied the way her pulse quickened.

“Met?” Cassidy grimaced. “No. But she gives me the evil eye every time I see her. What’s up with that?”

What, indeed. Scylla shrugged noncommittally even as her stomach fluttered. 

“At least I won’t have to see either of them for a while after today,” Cassidy said. 

Scylla’s brow scrunched up. “What do you mean?”

“It means you’re being dispatched in less than 12 hours,” Willa Collar’s voice cut in.  “Which you would have known if you’d bothered to show up to last night’s debrief.”

The hair along the nape of Scylla’s neck rose as she turned to watch Willa approach, lips pursed, boots clicking ominously on the hard floor. She was in uniform, crisp and neatly pressed. The perfect image of the perfect soldier. It was impressive, really, how well Willa could disguise herself in a lie. Scylla really had learned from the best.

Willa aimed a thin smile at Cassidy. “Do you mind if we have a minute, Cass?” It wasn’t a request.

“Sure thing, Boss.” Cassidy nodded, gave Scylla a look that implied behave, and headed out.

Scylla uncapped her bottle and took a long drink, if only to prolong the inevitable. The cold water did little to soothe the dryness in her throat as Willa peered at her in that unnerving way of hers, cold and appraising. Scylla still remembered when her blue eyes had been warmer and full of life. The past year clearly had not been kind. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Willa said when they were alone. 

“No, I’ve been busy with assignments you’ve forced on us.” Scylla set her water back down. “There’s a difference.”

“And how have those been going?”

“I thought you read all of my scintillating status reports.”

Willa lifted one eyebrow. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Most of them understand the basics of the Work,” Scylla said. “Craven and Moffett show the most promise, but none can maintain it under duress. Not yet.” They had all been frustrated in the last session when Scylla had dispelled their Work with a simple Seed of Disruption. 

“And Raelle?”

There it was. The real reason behind Willa’s questioning. All their conversations always came back to Raelle, eventually. Scylla was surprised it took this long.

“She should probably stick to Fixing.” That wasn’t exactly true. Raelle was no better or worse than the others, but Scylla wanted to get a rise of Willa. And it worked. 

Willa exhaled loudly, annoyance seeping into her already tense posture. “I mean, how is she?”

“Ask her yourself.” Scylla crossed her bare arms. 

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

“Try harder.”

Willa’s eyes flashed, dangerous like a stormy sea. “If you had just done your job to begin with–”

“And if you had just told her the truth,” Scylla interrupted, her own ire rising with the agitated beats of her heart. “You wouldn’t be in this mess. And neither would I.” 

“You know why I couldn’t.” Willa took an intimidating step closer and Scylla resisted the urge to retreat. 

Scylla did know. Knew all too well the lengths people would go to if it meant keeping their loved ones safe. But still… 

“I’m not helping you with Raelle. I thought I made that clear.” Scylla closed the gap between them even further. “I won’t hurt her. Ever again.”

Willa’s vice-like control over her emotions slipped. “She’ll be hurt if she stays in the Army. Or worse. You know that. She belongs with me. With us.”

“She’ll get hurt with us, too,” Scylla whispered, taking no victory when her words hit their mark and hurt rippled across Willa’s face. “But whether she stays or goes, that’s her decision to make. Isn’t that what you wanted? To give her the choice you didn’t have?”

Scylla stood her ground, planting her feet firmly on the proverbial hill she’d die on, neither of them wanting to be the first to flinch in their latest battle of wills. The double doors of the rough room burst open as several soldiers entered for early morning workouts. One stormed up to them. 

“What are you doing here?” 

It was Raelle. 

Willa blinked, and Scylla broke eye contact, head ducked down as they both moved away from each other. Yet another stalemate ended.  

“Having a conversation,” Willa answered, mask firmly back in place. “If you can recall how those work.” 

Raelle’s gaze was icy. “Seems you forgot yourself ‘bout a year ago.”

Like mother, like daughter. The two women stared each other down, reminding Scylla of two gunslingers locked in a duel at high noon. She took the rare opportunity to observe them both, noting the similar intensity in their profiles, the same conviction in nearly identical blue eyes. Together, they were Scylla’s past, present, and future, both evoking a complicated swirl of emotions within her. 

Willa lips flattened into a tight smile. “You can stand down, Private, I was just leaving.” She turned back toward Scylla, expression clear that their discussion was far from finished. “As for you, you’ll receive orders shortly.”

With that, she left them both. 

Scylla breathed out, long and slow. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though tension lingered in her neck. Her heart rate remained elevated, far from calm now that Raelle had fixed her attention on her. 

“Are you okay?” Raelle asked tentatively, gloved fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeveless black shirt.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Scylla attempted what she hoped was a convincing smile, hating the awkwardness between them. They were friendly, but far from friends. Stuck in a limbo of polite caution where they revolved around each other at arm’s length, neither willing to disrupt their new status quo.  

“You sure?” Raelle licked her lips, an inscrutable expression on her face. “Looked like you two were about to throw down.”

“Yeah.” Scylla nodded. “You Collars are nothing if not fierce.” She began to undo the straps of her training gloves, pulling at the velcro with a sharp rip. 

“You want to work it out?”

Scylla paused, unsure if she heard correctly. “Sorry?”

“Release some steam.” Raelle self-consciously raked her fingers through her blonde hair. “If you wanted.”

Scylla’s pulse kicked up even more. “That’s not necessary.”

“Come on,” Raelle insisted. “I’ve always wanted to see a Necro in action.” She flashed a grin; nervous, but real. It reminded Scylla of carefree days long gone.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle a Necro,” Scylla scoffed, paying no heed to the way her stomach flipped.

“Then you’ve got nothing to lose.”

It was a bad idea. A terrible one. Scylla knew it. And yet Raelle looked so playful and expectant. She was trying . And Scylla couldn’t resist. 

“Fine.” She re-tightened the straps of her training gloves and walked over to the sparring mat, bouncing on the balls of her feet to shake off the nerves that crept into her confidence.

“You serious?”

“As a heart attack.” It slipped out, the phrase Willa was so fond of using, and Scylla inwardly cursed when Raelle’s easy gait stuttered as she took a position opposite Scylla. They both  assumed a fighting stance, fists up.

“Haven’t heard that in a long time,” Raelle said as she threw a few light jabs that Scylla deftly dodged.

“You can ask me, you know,” Scylla said as they circled each other on the mat. “About her. I know you want to.”

“Will you tell me the truth?” Raelle feinted a punch and followed it with a front kick. Scylla blocked and countered with her own combination of strikes, hitting only air until she finally landed a glancing blow to Raelle’s chin.

“Yes.” Scylla backed off from pressing her assault, breath growing short from the exertion and the fact that it was the first physical contact she and Raelle had shared since their reunion at the massacre site. “The more important question is: will you believe me?”

Raelle’s fingertips skimmed the spot where she’d been hit, just underneath her scar. Impressed, she smiled and put her guard back up. “You work for my mom.”

“ With her,” Scylla corrected. “But you already knew that.”

“When did you meet?”

“About two years ago. After my parents were killed.” Scylla managed to hold her emotions in check, stemming the tide that always swelled within her whenever she thought of that horrible night. “She told me her name was Wilhelmina Smith.”

Raelle paused momentarily, nostrils flaring. “Smith was my dad’s name before they got married.” 

Their dance of offense and defense continued, attacks quickly parried, breaths growing heavier. They seemed evenly matched, though Scylla wondered if Raelle was holding back, just as she was, both not wanting to hurt the other. 

“She found me a place to stay,” Scylla continued. “Where I’d be safe.” 

“With the Spree?”

Scylla nodded once.

“So you knew her for a while?” Raelle asked, a tick in her jaw, throat bobbing as she swallowed.

“No.” Scylla shook her head, managing to avoid Raelle’s attempt at a leg sweep. “She’d check in every once in a while, but I rarely saw her. Not for a year, at least.” 

Scylla could practically see the cogs turning inside Raelle’s mind as she calculated the timeline of her mother’s “death.”

“And then?”

“And then she sent orders remotely.” Orders to say the words and get conscripted. Orders to let the Army make her strong. Orders to stay away from the cell at Baylord.

“Like recruiting me?”

Scylla hesitated on her next punch, giving Raelle the opening she needed to grab Scylla’s wrist, and twist her body until she could seize Scylla from behind. 

“You didn’t know she was my mom when I was your target.” It wasn’t a question. 

“No.” Scylla struggled to break free, hands clasping at sweat-slicked skin and toned muscle that wrapped around her. 

“If you had, would you have delivered me?” Raelle’s breath was hot against Scylla’s ear. 

Suppressing a shiver, Scylla snapped herself forward, using Raelle’s own weight to flip her over her shoulder and onto the mat. Raelle landed with a hard grunt, the wind knocked clean out of her. Scylla took the advantage to swiftly pin Raelle’s arms above her head, and trap her legs between her thighs. When Raelle tried to buck her off, Scylla only squeezed tighter.

“No,” Scylla panted out, chest heaving and blood pounding in her ears. She was so close to Raelle, too close, that she could feel Raelle’s harsh puffs against her face. Could smell the familiar clean scent of the Army’s regulation soap mixed with the sharp tang of sweat. Scylla’s gaze darted from Raelle’s dilated pupils to her lips and back, a familiar ache beginning to pool deep in her belly.

A loud and exaggerated cough came out of nowhere. 

They both glanced up to see Abigail towering over them, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. Next to her was Tally, mouth dropped open and eyes so wide they could pop right out of their sockets.

“Excuse me, shitbirds, but this is a rough room,” Abigail quipped. “Not some cheap no-tell motel.”

Face on fire, Scylla immediately rolled off Raelle. They both refused to look in each other’s direction. 

***

The world seemed to tilt off-axis as Scylla stumbled through town, trying to reach the bus station before she met the same fate of her parents. She could still see the fear on both their faces as they had raised their hands in surrender; how her mom’s eyes had slid toward the garage in silent warning and love; the sickening thud of their bodies; the way the MPs chuckled after the execution. It was seared into her memory.    

A nauseating wave of anguish hit her and she retched on the side of a dark street. It wasn’t the first time that night, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. 

Legs weak, Scylla rounded a building about a block away from the depot. She was a mess and she needed a new lighter as soon as possible, having left her favorite one in her bedroom. They hadn’t even been there a week before they were found, boxes still left unpacked around the house. 

Panic overwhelmed her already churning stomach the second she set foot inside the small station. The military was already there, with MPs stationed at each gate. As casually as possible, Scylla pulled the hood of her dirty sweater up and fixed her attention on the arrival and departure board, watching out of the corner of her eye as one bus unloaded and a few more soldiers joined the ranks. She had to get out of there.

Scylla waited until she could slip into a large enough group of departing passengers, blending in with them until she could peel away. She headed deep down a nearby alleyway, head pounding, eyes stinging, staggering until her back hit a brick wall and she slid down to the ground behind a green dumpster.

It was hopeless, she thought as she wrapped her arms around her knees and curled into a ball. She was only prolonging the inevitable. Maybe it would be better if she just gave up now and turned herself in. Join her parents in the afterlife. At least then she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“Are you okay?”

Scylla’s head snapped up and her heart stopped. A soldier approached slowly, hands up, placating. She was an older woman with blonde hair tied up in a bun.

Backing up against the wall, Scylla tried to remember one of the defensive Seeds that her parents had taught her, but was paralyzed with fear. This was it.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” the woman said, azure eyes kind. “I just wanna help.” She slowly crouched down carefully to not spook Scylla. “I’m Wilhelmina Smith.”

Scylla couldn’t speak even if she had wanted, not with the way terror gripped her throat. She was shaking so badly that she was surprised her teeth weren’t chattering.

“Listen,” Wilhelmina said softly. “If the MPs are this deep in the Cession, that means they’re lookin’ looking for one of two things: deserters or dodgers. You don’t look old enough to be a deserter. What are you? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

Scylla managed a nod.

“Parents?”

Try as she might, Scylla couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks. They answered Wilhelmina’s question for her.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, but I can get you somewhere safe.” She held out her hand. “We have to move quickly, though.”

Scylla stared at the proffered hand, weighing her options between a rock and a hard place. She could take a chance with this stranger, who could be leading her to a trap. Or roll the dice and run, risking capture.  

“Why…” Scylla’s voice came out raspy and rough. “Why are you doing this?”

“I have a daughter. ‘Bout your age. If she was in your shoes, I’d hope someone would help her too.”

There was something about this woman. Something calm and gentle. Something that made Scylla want to trust her even though she had every reason not to.

Scylla took her hand anyway.

*** 

Deep below Fort Salem, the Mycelium Wall stood as it had for centuries, opaque and shrouded in mystery. White wisps swirled in a crystalline mist, undisturbed by the experiment being conducted in its space. A distorted Seed sound wrapped around the participants of the cold, gray room. Although barely audible to the naked human ear, it made the witches present wince in pain. 

“This isn’t working,” Abigail huffed out, breaking her link with Raelle and covering her ears.

Izadora, whose face was scrunched up in similar displeasure, raised a hand at Scylla, who quickly shut the lid of a small wooden box. The noise mercifully ended, and the resulting silence soothed Scylla’s frayed hearing. 

“What the hell was that?” Raelle asked, fingers massaging her temples. 

“Something the Camarilla cooked up,” Scylla said from the corner of the room. “They’ve been layering it at the massacre sites.”

Leaning back up against a wall, she pointedly avoided Raelle’s gaze as she spoke. Whatever ground she and Raelle had gained with each other–in terms of getting back to…well, not normal , by any means…but to some sort of truce–had taken a major step back because Scylla hadn’t been able to say no to Raelle earlier.

“Bastardizing our Work with the dead,” Izadora crossed her arms in disgust. 

“And this is supposed to be related to the witch bomb?” Abigail asked.

“Not necessarily.” Izadora walked in a circle around where Abigail and Raelle sat facing each other in front of the Mycelium Wall. “But we had to eliminate the possibility that the Camarilla used it on the Altai Mountains, or that it played a role in your explosion.”

Abigail slumped into her chair. “So, basically, we’re back at square one.”

“Patience, Private Bellweather.” Izadora patted Abigail’s shoulder. “This isn’t an exact science. We’ll get there.”

“There must be something else,” Scylla said. “Something small you may have missed.”

Raelle shrugged up a shoulder. “We’ve been over it a hundred times. I got stabbed.” Scylla frowned. “Abigail tried to link with me. And the next thing we knew…”

“We were walking through mushroom land,” Abigail finished.

Scylla pushed off the wall and approached the Mycelium, drawn to the power in its murky depths. It resonated in the marrow of her bones, comforting and peaceful. “No.” She stopped a respectable distance from it before Izadora could object. “Something from before then.”

“We’ve established that Private Collar had contact with the Mycelium and somehow forged a link with it,” Izadora recounted.

“Yeah, she’s got a knack for touching shit she shouldn’t,” Abigail muttered, which earned her a kick to the shins from Raelle.

Scylla turned to face Raelle. “When did it happen? And why were you down here?”

Raelle’s eyes shifted to Izadora then back toward the ground. “It was a few days after the wedding. I thought I could find answers.” Raelle looked directly at Scylla, whose breath stilled. “About you.”

Ignoring the twist beneath her ribs, Scylla focused back on the wall. This wasn’t the time to unpack that tangled revelation. “Why did you touch it?”

Leaning forward, Raelle rested her elbows on her knees, idly rubbing at her left index finger. “I dunno. I just…” She shook her head. “It felt like the right thing to do. I can’t explain it.”

“And then what?”

Raelle turned up her hands. “Nothing. I had some of it on my finger, but it’s gone now.” 

“No.” Scylla began to pace. “Something else had to have happened between then and the Tarim mission.”

“She took a shitload of Salva,” Abigail offered.

“That has nothing to do with anything,” Raelle snapped, cheeks darkening. Scylla made a mental note to dig into that nugget of information later.

“Salva exits the system within 24 hours,” Izadora noted, eyes drawn back to the Mycelium. “The doses you took should have been lethal, but they weren’t.”

“Is there anything else?” Scylla asked. “Something you might have encountered, or anyone else you may have linked with?”

“I don’t know. There was Treefine when we learned about linking.” Raelle shot another look at Izadora, who only shrugged, unfazed. “Tally at City Drop.”

Abigail suddenly sat up in her chair. “Khalida.”

“Who?” Scylla asked.

“The Tarim refugee,” Izadora answered. “Private Collar cured her of the Camarilla’s poison when even our best fixers could not.”

“After you fixed her,” Abigail snapped her fingers, “you said you normally take on the disease.”

Raelle’s eyes widened. “But I didn’t.”

“Exactly. It just disappeared. Melted into the ground.” Abigail looked expectantly at Izadora, who rubbed her chin. “What if it went somewhere else?”

“The Mycelium,” Scylla breathed out.

Izadora walked quickly to her desk and pulled out a ledger. “Around that time, I observed an unusual phenomenon with the wall. It turned black for a few moments before reverting to normal.”

“Could Raelle have transferred the poison to the Mycelium?” Scylla joined Izadora to scan the notes. 

“It’s possible,” Izadora nodded, an eager glint in her dark eyes. “Did you have any other contact with the Camarilla’s disease?”

Raelle’s lips parted. “There was a boy in the mountains. I fixed him too.”

“Right before the bomb,” Abigail confirmed, swiveling in her seat.

“It’s possible the Mycelium absorbed the poison, converted it somehow, and then released the energy through Raelle,” Izadora hypothesized then let out a short laugh. “It’s the best lead we’ve had in weeks.” 

Excitement shot through Scylla. “Have you cured anyone else since then?”

“No one else has been sick,” Raelle said.

They all fell silent, weighing the potential implications of the connections they had forged until Scylla’s wristwatch buzzed, spoiling the moment.Scylla looked at the time. She would be late if she didn’t hurry and the last thing she needed was another argument with Willa. 

“I have to go,” she said apologetically.

“What? Now?” Abigail almost sounded disappointed. “We just got started.”

“Sorry, High and Mighty. But duty calls.” Scylla nodded at Raelle, who inclined her head slightly, brow creased. 

“Good work, Ramshorn,” Izadora gave her a small, proud smile before reaching out and touching Scylla’s elbow. “We need samples of that poison,” she added, her voice low.

“I’ll see what we can do.”  

Night had blanketed Fort Salem by the time Scylla emerged from the Necro facility and returned to her temporary quarters, gongs echoing in the distance to mark the start of curfew. Despite the adrenaline coursing through her, it had been a trying day, to say the least.Exhausted, Scylla ran a hand down her face, reminding herself it could have been worse. It always could be worse. 

She entered her room, wanting nothing more than to crash onto her bed and surrender to a long, dreamless sleep. But, no. She had to report back to Penelope Road. Eyeing the full-length mirror on the wall, Scylla moved to the closet and began shedding her uniform: unzipped and shrugged out of the jacket, unbuckled the belt, pulled off the shirt, and slipped out of the pants. She rummaged through the closet and fished out the jeans and light plaid shirt she had arrived in.

When Scylla was fully dressed again, she glanced at her reflection. A sense of freedom washed over her, mixed with an unexpected ripple of melancholy. Shaking it off, she tucked her Zippo into her pocket, then grabbed her journal and checked that the worn photo of her parents was still tucked safely within its pages.She pulled it out, reverently tracing their faces with the tip of her finger. Not a day went by that she didn’t wish they were still alive, wondering whether they would have approved of her path or would have been severely disappointed. Often, she feared it was the latter. 

Her mind drifted to Willa and Raelle, and their stubborness. How they had the luxury of taking new pictures, creating new memories, but would rather waste time and butt heads. It wasn’t Scylla’s place to make them see eye-to-eye. And yet…

Heart clenching, Scylla stuffed the picture back into her journal, which she placed inside a small backpack. Scylla didn’t want to leave anything of note behind, in case she didn’t make it back for a while. Or at all , her mind whispered.

The campus was quiet and still when she left the dorm, save for the occasional chirp from crickets in the grass. Scylla carefully avoided any patrols on the paths toward the pickup location at the officers’ barracks, cutting through fields and ducking behind trees when she needed. 

She was nearly in the clear, about a few hundred meters from her final destination, when a figure appeared at the end of the walkway. Scylla tensed up, expecting a dressing down by a clueless patrolwoman who knew nothing of Alder’s Accord with the Spree, only to relax when she recognized the soldier. 

Anacostia.

The sergeant, strolling with her hands linked behind her back, stopped in her tracks when her eyes landed on Scylla.

Anacostia eyed her civilian clothes and backpack. “Going somewhere?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t get the memo.” Scylla half-smirked as they drew closer to each other.

“Right.” Clearing her throat, Anacostia turned and fell into step beside Scylla. “Of course. How long will you… How long is the operation?”

“As long as it takes.” Scylla lifted one eyebrow. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“Oh, I’ll miss you like I miss a sharp stick in the eye,” Anacostia reassured her, and Scylla chuckled. 

A comfortable silence settled between them, their steps soft on the pavement. If someone had told Scylla a year ago that Anacostia Quartermaine would become one of her confidants, a steady rock amid turbulent waters, she would have laughed in their face. And Scylla would miss her while she was away.

“Is Willa Collar going with you?” Anacostia asked, almost hesitantly. 

“I’m not sure,” Scylla answered honestly, hitching her backup up higher. “But I doubt it. She’s too important to risk.”

“And you are?”

“Careful, Sergeant, I just might start to think you like me.” Scylla winked, drawing a scoff from Anacostia. “Does…” Scylla started to ask even though she knew she probably shouldn’t. “Does Raelle know?”

Anacostia paused. “No. But she’ll find out soon enough when we cancel your classes.”

Scylla’s chest twinged as she wondered if Raelle would even care that she was gone. Not that it would change anything even if she did.  

They reached the side entrance of the officers’ quarters, and Anacostia turned toward Scylla.  “How are things?”

“With Raelle?”

“With anything.”

“You’re full of questions tonight,” Scylla teased. 

Anacostia only blinked at her.

“It is what it is,” Scylla said because there wasn’t much else to say. “I have my mission. That’s enough. Izadora should have a promising update for you tonight.”

Anacostia’s lips parted, as if she had more to add, but instead she nodded and held the door open for Scylla, who paused before she crossed the threshold.

“Would you do me a favor?” She asked.

“I make no promises.”

“Fair enough.” It was a long shot, Scylla knew, but she had to try. Despite her many issues with Willa and Raelle, she felt she owed them at least this much. In case the worst happened. “Could you,” she took a deep breath, “talk to Raelle about Willa?”

Anacostia stiffened, grip tightening on the door. “Why?”

“Because our moms can’t come back from the dead, but hers did.” Scylla’s lips trembled slightly as she attempted a smile. “I know she’s hurt. Angry. And maybe Willa doesn’t deserve forgiveness.” Maybe I don’t either. She shrugged. “I don’t know. But Raelle could at least hear her out. Before it’s too late.”

Anacostia exhaled forcefully, tension evident in the rigid way she held herself, spine straight. “I’ll…see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Scylla said, genuinely grateful.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Anacostia muttered.

Schooling her features once again, Scylla sucked in a deep breath as she turned to leave. “Wish me luck.“ 

She was out of earshot when Anacostia finally responded with a whispered, “Good luck.” And was long gone by the time Anacostia let go of the door, flicked open a lighter, and raised the flame to her face.

[armymaryoongi]

Chapter four: Sakura Handkerchief

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, slightly mature, historical au; king au

warning: mentions of alcohol/slightly mature

words count: 1k+

Note:  English is not my native language. (I’ve added links to the royal marriage attires if you curious to know)

(Names, places and incidents are just based on fiction)

masterlist // Ch.five

Summary: Just like any other kids, King Min Yoongi also has his own childhood memories but his involved a mystery girl who he met once and was known as his love at the first sight. Will he gets any chance to meet her again? What will he does when he found her? Will the girl remember her too?

After the ceremony, the court ladies had brought you to the bridal’s chamber. You are still in your marriage’s attire, but the hwagwan has been removed from your head. If the past few hours, you could giggle with the Queen Dowager but not now. You feel anxious as King Min who is officially your husband is sitting opposite you. The drowsiness you felt within yourself back then also has disappeared. Your heart is about to burst as you keep playing with your fingers. During the ceremony, you didn’t dare to look at him even though the two of you need to bow to each other but you hadn’t sure if he did.

A small round table is being set in between King Min and you. It is a tradition to have a light meal as newlyweds need to share their meal together for the first time. At least for now, you feel slightly better as the female wedding helper is pouring liquor into the small cups that have been placed on the table. Min who is still shy quietly stealing a glance at his Queen. In his eyes, you are so beautiful in your red hwarot as its colour makes your skin more appealing. His soft eyes catch the way your black hair shining under the light, completely makes you look so perfect. This is his second time looking at you after the ceremony. He doesn’t know if you are a shy cat or you just hate him. After all, this is an arranged marriage.

You wished the female wedding helper could stay here with you two but she has gone with the court ladies. Leaving you all alone with the King, who is now looking at you. You feel like exploding inside, doesn’t know what to say, if you should eat first or just stay frozen in your position. Min slowly reach for the small cup and our eyes follow the movement of his hand. “Queen Min, shall we?” his deep voice startled you but you hide it by reaching the cup. A clink between the small cup is the only sound the two of you can hear. As you picking the food, your mind is wandering, try to figure his look based on his deep voice. Whereas, Min keep thinking if he and you should just call it a night or…. He quickly snapped away from his thought by shaking his head and you startled again. One mistake for tonight, that startle made you look at him.

You realised Min has a baby face opposite from his deep voice. His skin looks glossy under the reflection of the light. Everything on his face is small, make him look like a doll but his gaze can look intimidating from time to time. His ikseongwan has been taken off, leaving the blonde bun on his head. Two things on his face that attracts you. First, the scar on his right eyes and second, his sharp black eyes. His eyes remind you of something that feels so familiar within you. The soft cough breaks you from your imagination and immediately you look down.

The court ladies still haven’t gone yet, standing outside of bridal’s chamber. They have tried to listen to any conversation between you two. “Do you think the King and the Queen have talked to one another?” one of them whispered, afraid if the King caught them. “I wonder if they will...You know..” the other said while wiggling her brow. A sudden mewl frozen them, made them look at each other. “I think...They...We should go now.” the youngest between the court ladies quickly walk away, hypnotise the others to follow her. Little did they know, that fake sound came from the Royal Swordsman, Kim Taehyung who has caught them, spy, at the door.

Min has set aside the small table and there’s nothing between you two now. Wasting no time, Yoongi slowly comes close to you who is sitting near the bed. He was taught to be a gentleman not only by scholar Kim but his late father. He let out a cough before asked you, “Are you mind if I take this off?” he pointed at your binyeo that sticking in your braided bun. You bite your tongue, scared if you say something offensive. Instead, you move ahead to close a space between him and you. Yoongi assumed this action as agreed so his hand slowly reaches the binyeo and pull it. The braided hair of yours flowing to your side and he quietly untangles it. True, it is also a tradition for the groom to help the bride take off her wedding clothes and vice versa.

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled and starting to undo his bun as well. “Well, it must be uncomfortable to let your hair flowing like this. Let me tie a bit for you.” you wished you could utter these words louder as it sounds more like a whisper. You lifted your body to match his height and pulled back his hair into the way he always styled it before marriage. Yoongi staring at your face and gulped as he feels the radiation of your warmth. The shyness inside him has disappeared within this moment when he quickly grabbed your arms, make you sit on his lap and fasten his hand on your waist. He steadily tucked your hair behind your ear as it covered your angelic face. “How’s my Queen doing today?” he sincerely showed you his concern eyes, scared if you still feel unease.

“I’m good…” you replied sheepishly but keep scanning his eyes. His eyes are sharp yet can disclose those feelings when you think about fond memories from your past. Take no notice, you lifted your left hand and trace over his scar, leaving him speechless with eyes fluttering as he feels the warmness of your hand. “H-How you got this?” you couldn’t hide the curiosity in your voice. He tried to control his breath as he feels the sensation in him. “When I was in battling. Why my queen doesn’t like it?” Yoongi smug. You were taken aback but you nodded to show an agreement, “Yes, I don’t like it. In fact, I love it.” you swear that you never been this bold before as you fasten your grips on his mandible and tracing his scar again—not with those warm hands but your small lips.

However, it doesn’t last for a long time as Yoongi cupped your jaw with his other hand to give and steal your first kiss. The first kiss, it short, strong yet soft against yours. His lips taste bittersweet, like those liquor he last drank with you. Your hands landed on his shoulder, didn’t know what to do next since no one ever tells you how to behave in this intimate situation. Yoongi’s hand sneaked in between your red hwarot as he undoes the clasps, yet his eyes never leave yours. No doubt, he took it off and throw it aside, leaving you with only jeogori and chima.

Swiftly, he lowered your body on the thick bedding sheet like a gentleman he is. “Are you sure about this? Would you regret when the sun rise tomorrow?” his eyelids hooded. “With that ceremony, bows and vows, I will give you all of me. I am fully yours for eternity.” you could feel his breath on your face. Quietly, you guided his hand to unknot the string of your jeogori. You intentionally doing it slowly, “Am I your first?” you bite your lips daringly. “Yes, forever.” Swear for being bold for the second time, you pulled him to deepen a kiss and leaving his hand to pull the string himself. The silhouette of love motions between you two could only be reflected by the lights from the lighted candles. That night, the two of you kept repeating the vow of loyalty and love amid his name and yours.

THE NEXT MORNING

Yoongi wakes up to a sudden coldness that has accompanied him since the past few hours. He is still on the thick bedding sheet with messy hair sprawled beside him. When he looked at his side, you are nowhere to be seen. He yawned as sleepiness started crawling his eyes again but he quickly gets rid of it as he woke up and sit on the bed. Eventually, the blanket that used to cover him has fallen from his upper to lower body. Slowly, he scans his body to look at the aftermath of his lovemaking with you. He could see those red scratches at the back of his body from a mirror reflection. To remind himself again of what has happened yesterday, it feels surreal but those bloomed love bites on his chest and scratches from your gestures say the otherwise. With a smug on his face, he proudly grabbed his white robe and covered himself as he needs to start his new day with his wife, Queen Y/n.

That morning, you woke up early and chose to left Yoongi who was sleeping peacefully—too shy to look at him after that night. After freshening up, you visited the royal kitchen. You really interested to join those royal cookers in preparing the breakfast and part of you, you really want to avoid the King, at least for now.

The food has been served on the table at royal court cuisine for King Min by the court lady. At this hour, the King still couldn’t see your figure nor your silhouette. Probably, you are reading or resting in your chamber. Pressed his lips into a thin smile, he has made a mental note to visit you once he is done with his works today. The aromatic food on his table jabbed his nose and made his belly growled. Without further ado, he fed himself a spoonful of his meal. It tastes different from his usual meal. Is it because he is over the moon today or his royal cooker changed her method? “Which cooker in a shift today? This taste is not as same as Yeon’s food.” he took another spoonful.

“Forgive me, your highness. Truthfully, that food was prepared and cooked by our Queen Min. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.” the court lady who brought the King’s food answered while bowing. In a haste, Min put down the spoon on the table and rise from his spot. It’s not his first time to be in the royal kitchen. In fact, he has been here for a countless time when he was a little child. But now, he couldn’t believe his eyes as he sees you wearing an apron to cover that expensive royal dress on your body. Your back is facing him as you are too indulged in shaping those rice cakes for dessert.

He commanded the royal staffs to leave him and the Queen for a second. As quiet as a mouse, he comes closer to you and wrapped his arms on your waist. “I see that my Queen really enjoy cooking, huh?” he asked you in a playful tone. In your current state, you couldn’t turn to face him. You brushed off your embarrassment by softly giggling. “True. When I was in Daeshin, I would take turned with our royal cooker to cook for the palace.” You relaxed as you have become comfortable in his embrace. “Then, will you do the same thing in our palace?” he swears he could see you smile as you nodded. “Make yourself at home but cook for me only.” he told you strictly.

You giggled again and turn yourself to face him. “I see that my King can be jealous, huh?” you returned his words in the same playful tone. “Of course I am because you are only mine, wife.” he sealed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

[pokemonswshbutionlyplayedsword]

Imagine Chairman Rose plans this retreat thing for the leaders in the Wild Area where they are paired up with another leader and have to learn about that leader's pokemon type. They can't use their own Pokemon, only Pokemon of the type their partner specializes in. Milo is paired with Nessa, Bea with Allister, Melony with Gordie, Raihan with Kabu, and Piers with Opal. How do you think that would play out?

That sounds exactly like something Rose would plan. Of course, they’re not too thrilled. They have better things to do than go out into the Wild Area. So they pretty much swap teams. It lasts for a weekend. They go out on Saturday morning, come back Sunday afternoon. They have to hike out to a place Rose picked for them and set up their camp together.

Milo is kind of excited. He’s always had the type advantage over Nessa, so he’s eager to see how she’s such a powerful trainer to be able to beat him most of the time. They make a lot of jokes together on the hike up. They set up their respective camps and let their pokemon roam before swapping teams. Milo is the first to explain grass types to Nessa. She sits and listens attentively. Then he takes Nessa’s team, listens to her explanation, and goes off to fulfill Rose’s request of beating 10 wild pokemon with their partner’s team. It’s easy with the rock types around, until he has a run in with a wild grass type and struggles to overcome the type disadvantage. He gets it done, though. Back at the camp, Milo makes their dinner and they have a great night. In the morning, they hike back to where they report back to Rose and then go home.

Nessa is grateful she got paired with Milo. He’s pretty much her best friend. They have fun. They race each other while they’re hiking, they make jokes, it’s a good time. Nessa listens to what Milo says pretty well, but she’s worried that she’s going to struggle. Fortunately, she doesn’t. She manages to get her task from Rose done. Milo does it faster and is working on making curry by the time she gets back. She’s happy to see her team and she feels like she learned a lot about grass types. She knows she’s ready to defend against the type advantage next time they battle. The hike back is fun, but not as fun as the hike up. They’re both pretty tired, but they still find the energy to joke around and have fun. They’re happy to get home and rest, though.

Kabu has a lot of experience in the Wild Area, he wasn’t ready, though, for Raihan’s crackhead energy. He turns a corner and Raihan’s like “Kabu look at this giant rock I climbed on I don’t know how to get down.” It’s a struggle to explain fire types to Raihan while keeping his attention. He listens to Raihan, though, admiring his obvious passion about dragon types. He’s eager to see what Raihan’s pokemon can do. He’s impressed with their power, but he sees what they lack that he loves about fire types. He easily finishes Rose’s task, and heads back to the camp. He’s finished the curry by the time Raihan gets back. He gets a good night’s sleep (he knows Raihan does not) and then beats Raihan back to the area they meet Rose at.

Bea already knows about ghost types because Allister talks about them a lot. She carries Allister’s camping equipment up to their spot. They sit and hang out before swapping teams and heading out. She’s serious about finishing the task. She actually beats 15 pokemon instead of 10. Of course, Allister is back already and waiting for Bea to get back and help him cook dinner. They both go to bed early at the night and make an early hike back. Of course, they go back to the same place because they share a gym, but they’re closer for the experience.

Allister is excited. He doesn’t usually get to go to the Wild Area with Bea, so he’s thrilled to be able to. He could have carried his own stuff, but he knows that Bea respects him so he lets her carry his stuff. They swap teams and Allister struggles with coping with not being immune to normal type moves. He gets it done, though, and gets back to the camp. He’s a little hungry, but he doesn’t think about touching the cooking equipment without Bea. She gets back soon, though, so it’s fine. They go to sleep and then he enjoys the early morning mist in the hike back.

Opal is interested in Rose’s reason for pairing her with Piers. She supposes it has something to do with Rose respecting her and hoping she’ll make Piers more like him since he hates the way Piers acts. She lets Piers carry her things because he offered. She admires the way he pays attention when she gives him her speech she prepared. They’re in a more difficult area in the Wild Area than the others, but she’s not worried. She takes notes in her little notepad when Piers gives her his explanation. She’s amused watching Piers tell his pokemon to behave for her. “Ms. Opal.” That’s cute. His pokemon are well behaved and very powerful, so she’s able to finish the task quickly. She’s back before Piers. She makes curry, and it’s done by the time he gets back. It’s funny how tired he is, but he seems to stay up all night. She tries to tell him to go to sleep, but it apparently doesn’t work. Nice young gentleman still carries her stuff back for her, though. Piers is an okay kid in her book.

Gordie is not looking forward to spending the weekend with his mom that he’s fighting with. They hike up in silence. He dreads taking her team. He’s heard her talk about them a million times, so he doesn’t really listen. He does, however, have a long talk about rock types. He hopes Melony gets why he doesn’t want to be ice type by the end of this. He decides that Ice pokemon aren’t that bad, but he still prefers rock types. They end up having a very nice evening together over Melony’s home cooked curry that Gordie really missed. Their hike back was better than the one before. They’re closer than before.

Melony hopes this is a good opportunity to get her son back and to get him to convert to ice types. He doesn’t seem to care much about them, though. She listens carefully to what Gordie says to show she cares. It’s obvious he’s very passionate. She takes his team, and she has to admit, they’re powerful, and charming lil guys. She decides she understands why he likes them. Maybe she can finally bring herself to end the argument. That evening, they talk about it, and their fight gets a little less severe. Not perfect, but it’s a step. Melony sees it as an absolute win. They have a nice hike back.

Piers is worried about being paired with Opal. He doesn’t really like fairy types bc they’re pretty much the exact opposite of dark. He still respects her a lot and because she’s an old lady and they have the most difficult area. He carries her equipment for her. When they get to the campsite, he’s a bit tired, but he still has work to do. He gives Opal his run down of dark types. It’s shaky and he stumbles over words because he’s worried. He listens to Opal’s speech, and then spends a bit ordering his pokemon to behave themselves. He’s worried about them giving Opal trouble. Then he takes Opal’s team, thinking it’ll be easy. He prays to Arceus his pokemon aren’t behaving like this Alcremie. It’s being such a jerk and he takes twice as long to finish the task as it would have with his own team. He gets back and is grateful to see that Opal already cooked some curry. It gives him extra time to brush the sugary mess Alcremie left out of his hair. He’s happy to see his own team again. He stays up all night working on song lyrics, but Opal tells him to go to bed. He’s exhausted the next day, but still carries Opal’s things.

Raihan is confused why he got put with Kabu. He thought he’d be put with Piers, but he’s down anyway. He thinks their area is a little easy for him. The hike with Kabu is fun because he can see how concerned Kabu is for his wellbeing (who isn’t this dude is careless af) He’s interested in what Kabu has to say, but this will be a piece of cake anyway. Wrong. He doesn’t get far with that attitude. Kabu’s pokemon only respond to a passionate trainer who takes the challenge seriously. He gets back and Kabu’s already made curry. He stays up all night on his phone texting Piers about his “date with Opal.” Leon also makes fun of him for having to go on the trip. The hike back is a little harder because he’s tired, and he’s a bit disappointed to be beaten by Kabu. It was a pretty good trip though.

Dang, that was long. Sorry this got so long, but I had fun with this. I like the idea. Pairing Piers up with Opal was a great idea.