#When the world needed it most... Mole of Moling returned!

[stardestroyer81]

You ever just have a silly idea and then take it to its final form?

[jeankluv]

The tale of the fox and the knight - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 03

summary: You have been living all your life in almost isolation due to your true nature, one your parents want to hide and protect you from anyone finding it. But when the spring of your 20 year your parents grant you the wish of being able to walk around the city, you meet him. Your doom. Satoru Gojo, a white haired knight whose intentions in your eyes are unkown. And whose presence in your life will change everything, from how you see the world to your way of being.

words: 3,9k

tags: enemies to lovers, blood, eventual smut, Gojo is pretty rude at the beginning, Gojo ooc, betrayal, fantasy, magical creatures, angst, injuries, heavy/strong language, no use of y/n or minimal use of y/n, female protagonist

notes: I could make an excuse and say I was busy, but I wasn’t I just didn’t write anything 😭 ohmygod I’m so sorry I will try to finish the chapters sooner.

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

If stares could kill, Satoru would have been underground a long time ago. While the two of you waited for the food your eyes were like daggers waiting to be stuck on Satoru’s most vital parts. But the white haired man didn’t care, not a bit. He had a clear mind, and it was completing his mission.

Satoru didn’t know why the king needed you alive, maybe it was because he intended to marry you or maybe to win territories on your land, but that was something that didn't concern him. He knew why he was chosen to do that job and it was not only skilled but because was resentful of the kingdom of Zerua and especially the royal family.

He was not older than 6 years when his whole family was massacred, he couldn’t recall the events of that night but he remembers the shield that the soldiers had, the same one that your family so proudly displayed.

Maybe it was how they raised him or those faded memories he had, but his hatred was there and he doubt anything could change that.

He hated the kingdom of Zerua and he hated you and your family. That couldn’t change and he wouldn’t let it be changed, he was revenge thirsty.

Your eyes never left the window that was on the side, the outside world was completely dark and only the slight light of the moon was visible. You swallowed hardly as you remember what would happen in a couple of weeks from then. You needed to escape and return to the castle before that date.

Mother always told you to be careful, but you always longed for the outside world, so that’s why they searched for a knight for you, funny how that person who was supposed to protect you was the one putting your world outside down and not in the positive way.

Looking back at the moon you calculated the days you had. 17 days. 17 days before your best kept secret was revealed to the man that you despise the most at that moment.

You needed to do something.

“Here is the chicken.” A female voice spoke as two plates were left in front of the two of you.

She was a young female, probably in her 20s, she had a short brown hair, no longer than her chin and under her left eye there was a mole. She was wearing a green skirt that reached her ankles, on top she was wearing a corset that matched the skirt and underneath a white shirt that you could tell had been wearing for a long time.

“Thank you.” You spoke as your eyes went from her to the plate.

Silence fell between the three of you. Satoru was on alert as he looked at the young woman, and you shifted gently in your seat as his hazel eyes pierced you.

Her hand, cold as snow, rested on your neck, causing you to jump in the chair and quickly cover the area she touched with your own. Satoru stood up, his hand on the handle. He didn't know what the girl was up to, but he needed to be on guard.

“Relax.” The young woman spoke. “You have a wound on your neck; you should treat it.” Your fingers gently brushed your neck until the burning sensation made you pull away. “It could get infected. Once you're done with dinner, stop by the cabin behind the restaurant, and I'll treat you.��

“Thank you…” You gave her a smile, but that smile disappeared when Satoru spoke.

“No need, I'll treat it.” He said firmly.

“Are you a healer?" The girl questioned, but Satoru didn't respond. “I thought so.” Her gaze fell back on you. “I'll be waiting for you. My name is Shoko.”

Just as she arrived, she disappeared from your sight. Your table fell silent again. You could see that Satoru was irritated. He probably didn't like the idea of ​​someone else treating you, since it might mean you might try something to escape.

And he was right. You would try. Every place you stopped, every bar, inn, town, you would try. Even though your hands trembled at the thought of what he might do, you wouldn't stop.

Satoru grabbed a piece of chicken and bit into it. He was annoyed, angry, and restless. The girl, Shoko, seemed to be smarter than most of the villagers. At least she had some medical knowledge, or at least that's what she had implied.

A sigh escaped his lips. They were five days away on horseback from the Blue Forest. If they got there in that time, there was no way anyone would find them. But getting to Lur would still take time, so the first step was to reach the Blue Forest and lose themselves in the thick fog that formed there.

But now he had to focus on controlling you and ensuring you didn't do anything he didn't want. He watched you eat, so different from back in the castle, he could almost swear you could blend in with everyone there. The bites you took were large, nothing a high-society lady would do, but there you were.

The smile that had been forming on Satoru's lips quickly fell when your eyes met and he remembered where you were.

He took his hand away from his chin and grabbed the mug of beer to take a deep sip, closing his eyes tightly as he got used to the taste; the beer was stronger than Lur's. He set the mug aside and wiped his mouth, directing his blue eyes back to your figure.

“Finish the chicken already.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, this is the first time I've eaten it like this.” You said as you set the bones aside. “It's fun.” You smiled unconsciously.

Satoru said nothing and simply turned around, leaning his back against the stone wall and looking around. You, for your part, continued eating, while observing his profile: straight nose, full lips, high cheekbones, and mile-long eyelashes. No one could deny that he was beautiful, and whoever did was probably completely blind.

You still remember how your maids started talking about him as soon as he started working for you; his smile made them all blush, and of course you fell for it too. His sweet tone of voice, his delicate movements, all of it had everyone in the castle entranced by him, but who could have imagined that it was just a facade, one that was too well constructed?

You swallowed the meat and your eyes observed your reflection in the window. Your hair escaped from your hood, revealing the reddish color, which stood out even more under the candlelight. The memory of what had happened that day shook you. You'd never heard of mountain bandits before. You knew that if Satoru hadn't intervened, now... You shook your head. You were there, in that village, eating chicken. All things considered, you were fine. You were going to be fine.

Both plates remained empty, and you hesitated to speak. That girl, Shoko, had told you to go there to treat your wound, and this could be a good opportunity to leave a message in case the royal guard following you passed by, or even for her to do so.

You raised your gaze and found Satoru still staring into the distance. You cleared your throat. “Let's go.”

“Are you going to that girl?” He asked without looking at you.

You straightened your clothes and nodded. “Yes, I don’t want it to get infected.” You said firmly. “It could get infected, and I could die.”

Satoru laughed at your answer. “Bunny, I highly doubt that cut will cause your death.”

“Whatever.” You said, rolling your eyes. “Let’s go.”

Satoru said nothing and walked behind you. It was strange, wasn’t he going to threaten you into not saying anything? You said goodbye to the couple and walked out the door. The night chill chilled your cheeks; you were further north, and the temperature was getting lower. If you continued north, the days would start to get shorter and the nights would become much colder and harsher.

You had heard about northern winters, but you didn’t know how much of it was real. The capital was further south, where winters occasionally saw snow, but rainy days were abundant. But the north could endure days of snow, and you'd even heard that there were parts where the sun didn't rise for months. Their days were illuminated only by the bright moonlight that graced those endless nights.

You hugged yourself tightly and looked back. Satoru continued walking, saying nothing.

“Aren't you going to say anything?” You asked him.

Satoru looked at you and sighed. “Don't do anything…” Your lips parted to speak, but Satoru's words arrived first. “Or I'll reduce this town to rubble. Do you understand?” He said, his tone cold, as cold as the air that blew that night.

He stood beside you and his eyes fixed on you, waiting for an answer. “I understand…” You said, trying not to stutter.

Satoru walked ahead of you, his back straight and confident. Oh, how much you wanted to knock him down and make him pay. You clenched and unclenched your fists; it would all come, it would happen eventually.

Soon you were standing in front of Shoko's door. Satoru knocked twice before it opened, revealing Shoko's silhouette behind it.

“Come in.” She stepped aside, letting you enter the warmth of her small home.

Your eyes scanned the room, lit by small candlesticks and the light from the fireplace. The place was small and cozy.

“You can leave your cloak there.” She pointed to a wooden chair.

You heard Satoru snort but remain silent. “Good…” You whispered, setting the cloak aside.

Short, patchy hair showed, and you quickly felt the need to hide under the dark cloak.

“Good, sit down so I can treat your wound.” She pointed to the chair across from her. You did so and looked at her. “It's not very deep, but it's still best to treat it…” She gently grabbed your face and turned it to the side.

Satoru stood there, arms crossed, watching you with his blue eyes that shone in the fireplace.

“This might hurt.” Shoko whispered before you felt a burning sensation on your neck. You closed your eyes tightly, tears gathering at the edges of your eyes as you inhaled deeply to keep them from falling silent. Soon, you felt a cloth being placed over the wound and Shoko moving away from you.

“That's it.” She said, setting the curling iron aside. “I don't think it'll leave a scar…”

“Thanks, Shoko.” You said, touching your neck.

“Okay, now we should…” Satoru started to speak, but Shoko cut him off.

“How about I fix your hair?” She said, touching one of your frayed ends. “I don't think you want to go with that cut, do you?”

You looked at her and then at the ends of your hair. “That would be nice…”

“Good.” She said, smiling. “How about you wait outside?” She looked at Satoru.

“No, I'm fine here.” Satoru leaned against the wall, his eyebrows narrowed.

Shoko said nothing and simply worked on your hair. You heard the scissors cutting, and small strands fell onto your thighs. Your reddish hair, which had once been the most precious thing to you...

Your mother used to dye it every night, while telling you stories about princesses and princes, about true love. Now you realized that it had all been just fairy tales, a fantasy.

“Good…” Shoko spoke, and you could hear a smile in her tone. “You look beautiful.”

You raised your hands to your hair and touched it; it was really short.

“What do you think?” Your gaze lifted and you looked at Satoru, who seemed impassive.

"It’s okay..." He was really cruel.

“It's late now, the inn that welcomes travelers will probably be closed, so stay here.”

”It won't be too much trouble?” You asked.

“Not at all, we have a free room, you can stay there.” She smiled, and you smiled back. “Where are you headed, anyway?”

“South.” Satoru lied. You were coming from the south and heading northeast. “The weather is better there, and my wife and I are looking to start there together.” The biggest fake smile spread across Satoru’s face.

“The south… sounds interesting. The weather will be better than here, that’s for sure.” Shoko commented.

The conversation didn’t last much longer, and soon you found yourself in the room with Satoru, just the two of you. You look around, the room only had a bed, which you knew what it meant and you didn’t like it.

“You sleep on the floor.” You said before Satoru could say anything.

Without waiting for a response, you sat on the bed and move yourself to be in the middle of it, trying to make a statement.

Satoru smirked as he watched you, did you really thought that with just putting yourself in the middle he was not going to be able to move you? Satoru without hesitation walked to the bed and with just one arm he pulled you to the side.

“Bunny, you thought you were making something there?” He chuckled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You broke free from his grasp and faced him. “I’m not sleeping in the same bed.”

“For my own good.” He picked up one of the pillows and threw it at you. “I’m sure the floor is comfortable.” He smiled cynically.

You gripped the pillow tightly. “Are you really going to make me sleep on the floor?”

Satoru thought for a moment. “Yes?”

“I thought you were a gentleman.” You said, grabbing the pillow and some blankets from the bed.

“Well, stop believing that, because I’m not.” He replied simply.

The floor was hard and cold. Just a few days ago, you had been in the castle, preparing for the ball with Utahime, taking walks in the garden, or going into town, and now… now you were on the cold floor of a humble abode, kidnapped by someone you thought you trusted.

You rolled onto your side and buried your face in the pillow, stifling the sobs building in your throat. Swallowing, you wiped your tears away. You had to stay awake until Satoru fell asleep so you could go out and ask Shoko for help.

But your eyes were too heavy; you felt your body slump, falling into a sleep you didn't want.

Fuck...

Satoru, for his part, had his arm under his head as he stared up at the wooden beams on the ceiling. The room was barely lit by the fading light in the sky, and outside, you couldn't hear a thing.

As the minutes passed, your breathing steadied, though a little uneven due to your blocked nose. Satoru knew you'd cried there on the floor, and although his chest had tightened, he'd quickly pushed them away. He didn't care about your tears; Satoru only cared about returning to Lur and completing his mission, and perhaps celebrating his success with Sukuna.

He tossed and turned in bed and saw your silhouette on the floor, curled up in a ball, trying to conserve your body heat. Satoru sat up in bed and took a closer look, then turned his gaze outside again. It was probably after midnight, maybe around one or two in the morning.

With a grunt, he got out of bed and approached you. Something inside him told him to put you to bed, but Satoru ignored it and simply pulled all the sheets over the bed. Maybe that would stop you from looking like an armadillo. Giving you one last look, he left the room.

He stood in the hallway and gripped his sword tightly. “You're not just travelers, are you?” Shoko's voice broke the silence of the night.

“That's all that matters to you?” He glanced at Shoko.

“Not much, really.” She smirked. “But you know..” Shoko walked past him. “Have you ever heard the rumor about the princess of Zerua?”

“The rumor?” Satoru followed her with his eyes.

“Yes, the rumor that says the kings had another daughter, one with fiery hair.” Satoru could see Shoko’s smile despite the dim nightlight. “Your wife has hair as red as fire, it’s curious.”

Satoru smirked. “Yeah… curious, but we are just travelers you know. We are searching for a better life.” Satoru tried to softly smile.

“I haven’t asked you your names.” Shoko then changed the subject. “How rude…”

“Skye..” Satoru responded without hesitation.

“And your wife?” Shoko tilted her head as she waited for a response.

Satoru narrowed his eyes as he tried to examine her face but it was too dark. “Selene…”

“Selene… like the moon goodness?”

“Yes… like her.” Satoru cleared his throw. “Isn't it too late to be up?”

“I could ask you the same.” Satoru felt irritated, he wanted to leave that town as soon as possible.

“I heard some noises… but it was probably an animal.” He gripped his hand around his sword. “I will go back to sleep. Good night.”

Satoru closed the door of the room not waiting for a response and he threw himself to the bed, he looked at you still resting on the floor.

"Ugh, damn it." He scratched his head, ruffling his white hair.

Setting his sword aside, he approached you and bent down, carefully running his hands under your body. Satoru knew you usually slept soundly, so you wouldn't wake up. In fact, lightning could strike the roof and you'd still be asleep.

He placed you on the bed and covered you with the sheets he'd previously thrown over you. He sat on the other side of the bed and looked at you, a long sigh escaping his lips. He needed this mission to be over and done with so he could go home. Satoru's eyes soon closed, exhaustion taking its toll on his body.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Your back didn't hurt, at least not like you thought it would after sleeping on the floor. You stirred, and that's when you realized it: you weren't on the floor. Your eyes opened, and you were surprised to find yourself in bed.

Perhaps you had gotten up and laid down on it, or... You shook your head at those thoughts.

You walked over to the window and noticed the light mist outside. You looked around the room carefully; you were alone, and there was no sign of Satoru.

“Good…” This could be your chance.

With long strides, you left the room and looked for Shoko. The house wasn't very big, so it wouldn't be difficult to find her.

“Did you wake up?” A shiver ran through you. Turning on your heels, you found Satoru staring at you from the front door.

“Yes…” You said, licking your lips. “Where’s Shoko?”

“She went to get breakfast.” He said, passing by you. “We’ll have breakfast and then go.” You rolled your eyes and sat down across from him without saying anything. “Your name is Selene.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your name is Selene now, and mine is Skye, so just follow along when Shoko gets back.” Satoru frowned as he explained everything.

Selene? Skye?

“Good morning.” Shoko walked through the door with a smile. “I see you’re up. How was your night?”

“Good.” You glanced briefly at Satoru. “I slept well, thanks, Shoko.”

“It’s nothing. Here’s some milk. Skye told me you’d be leaving soon, but I couldn’t leave you without food.”

“Uh… Yes, yes.” He really had made up those names.

You took the milk Shoko had brought you and took a sip. Satoru's eyes pierced you intensely, almost asking you to drink that bowl as soon as possible and that as soon as you put it down on the table, he'd get you out of there.

“Selene, so are you excited?” Shoko spoke, and at first you didn't realize it, not until Satoru smacked you under the table.

“Oh! Yes, yes... very much so. I can't wait to go south. Maybe we'll stop by the capital, right, Skye?” You looked at him with a smile.

“Maybe.”

"Sometimes you two give the impression that you hate each other." Shoko laughed.

“Yeah that’s because…”

“Things have been complicated.” Satoru spoke over you. “After the bandit attack, Selene hasn't been feeling well, and that might be why she's feeling that way.” Satoru stood up from his chair and took your hand as he knelt beside you. “But everything will be okay, my dear. We'll soon be arriving at our new home.” He smiled at you and then planted a kiss on your hand.

You gulped as you looked at him, wanting to scream and call him names. But if you did, Satoru probably wouldn't hesitate to kill Shoko right there and disappear with you from that village in the middle of the mountains.

“Thanks, darling.” You faked a smile.

Still holding your hand, Satoru stood up and walked over to Shoko. “I think it's time to go. If we want to reach our next destination before nightfall, we'd better get going now.”

“I can give you supplies if you want.” Shoko pointed out.

“We're fine, thank you.”

Satoru tugged on your hand, leading you to the exit. You had to do it now.

”Shoko.” You broke free from his grasp and walked over to Shoko. “Thanks for everything.” You took her hands, leaving the small piece of paper in her hand. “See you.”

You released your grip and walked back to Satoru. He looked at you for a few moments, then back at Shoko.

“Come on, Skye…” You pulled him along. “Leaving now will get us to our next destination faster.”

Satoru followed you, but you could feel him staring at you. You hoped Shoko would read and understand it, and if there was a chance, she would pass the message on to the royal guard.

You reached Satoru’s horse, and you quickly approached him to hug him.

“Hey, Nut!” You said, stroking him gently.

“Nut?” Satoru said, puzzled.

“Yes, Nut, his name is Nut.” Your gaze returned to Nut and you smiled. “Since your stupid owner doesn’t name you, I will.”

Satoru rolled his eyes and sighed. “Whatever…” His hands placed on your hips, pulling you away from Nut. “We’re leaving.”

“Wait, what?!” You said as Satoru lifted you up.

Satoru effortlessly sat you on the horse and, without saying anything, sat behind you. “We're leaving…” He whispered in your ear, causing your skin to prickle instantly.

Satoru grabbed Nut's reins and the horse began to walk. Snapping out of the momentary trance, you searched for Shoko, who was getting smaller and smaller as you left the small town behind. In your heart, all you could hope was that she'd read that note and find it in the right hands.

“Don't do that again.” You said after riding along the trails for a while.

“Do what?” Satoru asked.

“Catching me like that was… it was awkward.”

“Don't do what you did again.” Satoru said back.

Your face turned and you looked at him. You were close together, and that scared you because you saw it in his eyes. He knew, he'd noticed the note, he knew, he knew. “No…”

“No, what?” He smirked.

You shook your head. “Nothing will happen to Shoko, right?”

“Should something happen to her?” Satoru leaned closer to you. “Princess, I'll be nice this time, but not next time. Do you understand?”

“You're cruel.”

“The worst of all.” He muttered. “Now brace yourself, our plans have changed slightly.”

Little did you know that changed was going to make you go to your limit in your relationship with Satoru and make choices you didn’t think you would.

— if you wanna be tagged, comment

💌: @misslovingpearl @zoeyflower @faeriesworld101 @coffee-and-geto @alifromtheotherworld @fangirlingtod3ath @laeve-rae-alone @megumisthirdog @wlwkorrasami @starlight5cat @yourfaveava @manyno @kianatrg @iamtherealestet @tracysdemise @certainduckanchor @aloserprobably @glittercherry777 @sylussss7 @n1vi @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @bubera974 @yourfaveava @thewondrousdreamer @a-trashbag

[posttexasstressdisorder]

https://www.sfgate.com/politics/article/hey-democrats-wake-up-20219559.php

The sky is falling. The United States federal government is being illegally dissolved before your very eyes. The workers you rely on to ensure that you don’t eat ground beef tainted with paint chips are being laid off en masse. Immigration and Customs Enforcement raided your office last week and asked for your papers, even though you were born in Fremont. A fire tornado is due to touch down in your backyard next Tuesday. Your parents are terrified to board an airplane. Your gay nephew is terrified to go to school. Your 401(k) is in the toilet. MEASLES. Measles have returned and want to eat your baby. Every day you look at the news, and you’re told that the president would like to bring back cockfighting. You and I need reassurance. You and I need to know that someone out there is trying to put an end to all this madness. Instead, we get this.

I hate you, Democrats. I hate you so, so much. Yes, I hate Trump and Elon and all of the s—t-for-brains voters out there who were like DURRR THESE FELLAS ARE JUST WHAT WE NEED TO CLEAN UP WASHINGTON DURRR. But I reserve a special place in my black heart for you, Democrats. You are the representational equivalent of being put on hold by customer service. All you do is let me down. It’s like being a Browns fan if every time the Browns lost, a Tesla ran over my dog. You guys make voting feel pointless.

Starting with you, Joe Biden. You still alive, old man? Well, you could’ve fooled me. Great job staying in the 2024 race juuuuust long enough to torpedo your party’s chances, and then pissing off to Cape Henlopen solely because George Clooney asked you to. Were you a good president? I have no idea, because you were too busy huffing oxygen from your bedside tank to sell your agenda to the American people. Maybe you could have gotten everyone on your side by crafting a really clever sign to hold up.

And who’s this? Why, it’s former Vice President Kamala Harris, who got voters excited for exactly one month before huddling with her advisers and deciding to campaign as a Republican, WITH Republicans. And what other brilliant tactician could tap one of the most beloved governors in America as her running mate and then Tim Kaine-ify him by 75%? Hey Kamala, maybe in your free time you can pursue a life sentence for a homeless man who stole a box of Chiclets from a local CVS. I legit thought you would win in November! Why did I think that? Someone should brain me on the head with a baseball bat.

Speaking of head injuries … John Fetterman! I’m a fellow brain injury survivor alongside John. So when this man suffered a stroke during his Senate race against Dr. Oz, I was like, “Do NOT discriminate against this man just because he had a brain injury.” Little did I know that Fetterman’s blood clot would turn him into the second coming of Joe Manchin. I just got rid of Joe Manchin, and now I have to deal with a taller, weirder one? 

These are just some of the people I was foolishly hoping would put a stop to the meme-ocracy that’s currently eating the world. Democrats keep responding to our cries for help with, “Get out and vote!” Who am I even voting for? Is it you? Is it some asshole company on your donor roll? Is it shrink-wrapped skull James Carville, whose electoral acumen has aged even worse than he has? I’ve gotten more results voting on a new flavor of Lay’s potato chip. 

U.S. President Donald Trump shakes hands with California Gov. Gavin Newsom upon arrival in Los Angeles on Jan. 24, 2025, to visit the region devastated by the Palisades and Eaton fires.MANDEL NGAN/AFP via Getty Images

Now that I think about it, how did a state that offers so much sunshine and terrific produce end up with a whole armadaof s—t Democrats, including Adam Schiff, Nancy “once we all die in a rejuvenated smallpox epidemic, the House will be ours again!” Pelosi and Alex Padilla, who thought that a sternly worded letter to a Trump mole would end the administration’s desecration of our national parks. And don’t forget about Dianne Feinstein! Yes, I know that Feinstein is dead. No, that doesn’t excuse her. Stupid, dead Feinstein. I bet she’s lecturing children in hell because they dared to ask for a table fan.

And if you think that my party has more to offer on the opposite coast, may I introduce you to New York Democrats? Oh look, it’s Little Mister Punching Bag, Chuck Schumer! A Palestinian American resident of this man’s state was just kidnapped by ICE and remanded to Kafka State Prison down south without cause, and Chuck’s first instinct was to essentially say, “Now we all know this young man is brown, which means he hates the Jews.” Totally. Way to see the REAL story going on here, you empty tin of pomade. And somehow Chuck has even greater moral fortitude than Eric Adams, who probably couldn’t commit murder without accidentally leaving his Turkish passport in the victim’s hand. 

I can’t believe how useless most of these Democrats have proven in the fight to preserve something, anything, functional in this backwater of a country. Oh, do you want me to give the RBG girlboss treatment to Sonia Sotomayor, who skipped out on retiring while Biden was in office because she just loves writing terse dissents? What about Hakeem “Next Pelosi” Jeffries? Will he bamboozle the opposition with his fearsome repertoire of debate club hand gestures? Judging by those signs from the other night, I’m thinking no. No as all f—k. 

I don’t expect you geniuses in charge of my party to listen to my plea, but I’ve been shouting into the wind for decades now so I may as well do it one final time. Democrats need to give voters like me a reason to care. Our current president is an asshole, but he sure knows how to get people to care one way or the other. Part of that success has been from brute force political messaging. Part of it is from the voraciousness of capitalism mutating this country into a place where everyone is told they’re equal but no one WANTS to be equal. When Donald Trump runs on a platform that boils down to F—K OTHER PEOPLE, tens of millions of Americans eat it up because they’ve been conditioned to hate other people: their boss, their movie stars, that guy that cut them off on the drive to work, everyone. 

I don’t know how we solve this problem, but actually WANTINGto solve it is a good first step. I see little evidence right now that Democrats — especially you, Gavin — have that desire. I’ll still vote in every election out of obligation, but how many others will just stop doing it entirely now that you’ve failed them so consistently? I have a hard time trusting a bunch of people who couldn’t even think to start up an ASSHOLE chant on the House floor during Trump’s speech last week. I’m wagering that younger generations are even more disaffected. Those people will be lost forever unless you f—kers finally understand what’s happening outside your office window. 

And if you don’t get your s—t together now, I’ll know it’s because you don’t want to. I’ll know that you never cared about democracy. That you never cared about fixing the Constitution that’s currently sitting at the bottom of Sam Alito’s toilet. That you never cared about women or gay and trans folk or the poor or Muslim Americans or even Jewish people. I’ll know that you only care about yourselves, same as the president does. If you careerist scum want to prove me and every other voter wrong, you’d better get started right now. The clock is ticking. 

[windvexer]

Spirit Vessel Theory & Practical DIY (Traditional Witchcraft Flavored)

(Written in response to an Anon whom I think is probably involved in spirit conjure community, which is where conjurers put spirits inside of a vessel for you and ship them to you. Anon requested to know tips on how to transfer a spirit to a new vessel)

✨big heckin UPG ALERT ahead for the ENTIRE POST✨

In this post, a spirit vessel is any object, including a container filled with objects, which serves as a spirit's physical foothold into our present reality.

Three Varieties of Spirit Vessels: Telephone, Body, House

Please note the particular absence of trap or prison: there is no need for any practitioner to trap or seal a spirit inside of a vessel. This is what we do to unwanted spirits to relocate them to a second location, and it's not how we treat our friends.

My categorization of spirit vessels relates to how the spirit is intended to engage with the vessel.

Telephone Vessel: This is the kind I've most commonly seen and heard of in the conjure community. The spirit lives/exists Elsewhere, but the practitioner has given them a link of communication to this physical object.

The practitioner then works over the object to "call" the spirit and ask it to arrive in their location, or visit it Elsewhere, or just talk while they are in separate locations.

In my opinion, the "telephone" vessel is the least impactful type for the purposes of allowing spirits into our lives, but it's great at what it does: serving as a telephone line. However, as I hope this post will go on to show, it's also the easiest to make because the vessel requires the least amount of preparation and care.

Body Vessel: This is when the spirit vessel is meant to be the body of the spirit as it dwells on Earth. When a vessel is consecrated and dedicated to a spirit, it's understood to be the spirit itself. The form that the vessel takes influences the spirit's ability to work in our reality.

Body vessels may end up looking like little figurine versions of the spirit in question, but they can also be containers specially prepared with decorations and objects heavily linked to the spirit's essence.

Direct examples in witchcraft and folk magic include house and kitchen dollies that are meant to help lighten the load of chores or stop food from burning. Such dolls may be equipped with little brooms, multiple hands, and so forth, to assist with chores.

Another example of a body vessel is the Decaying River God. To create this vessel, I made a deal with the river and then embodied a spirit into this intuitively crafted form. Now, that physical object has become the sacred body of a spirit.

Just as the kitchen doll may be given a broom to assist with sweeping, a spirit's body may be equipped with tools to grant them additional influence and abilities in our world. A related example in witchcraft is to put the feet of small, scurrying Earthen animals (such as a rat or mole) into charm bags, so that the spell can scamper to its destination.

Just because the spirit has a body vessel does not mean they are permanently bound inside of that vessel. Accidentally breaking or losing the vessel isn't like harming the spirit (although obviously it's to be avoided).

Spirits which were born Elsewhere are perhaps more likely to come and go from body vessels, but even beings born with the creation of their body may still leave that physical space and return to it as desired.

House Vessel: This is the same thing as a spirit house or shrine, just a step to the left. We might equip the body vessel with objects that grant the spirit additional powers and capabilities, but in the house vessel, I tend to organize things to be a pleasant and enjoyable respite for the spirit, almost like a custom bedroom.

There may be no object or representation that's intended to be the body of the spirit at all. Nonetheless, the space is still one where the spirit may be fully invited and present, and gives them a strong foothold in our world.

The only real difference I draw between a house vessel and a shrine or spirit house is the intent. A shrine may be to venerate, and a spirit house may be a kind act of providing shelter. But the house vessel's intent is to create a space that makes it easier for a spirit to fully Show Up to our present reality.

Which Variety is Best?

This depends on your needs. For the purposes of witchcraft, spirits are often best given bodies that reflect their nature and empower them to carry out your purpose. I also hold this to be true for spells and any other variety of guy.

Spirits whom we're getting to know, but aren't quite sure of yet, may be best limited to "telephone" status.

House vessels - I haven't got a lot to say, except bringing up the point of them.

You can have multiple telephone lines and house vessels, yet intuition advises that really only one Body should do for the average spirit.

Vessels Themselves Can Suck So It's Worthwhile to Put Some Thought Into It

I believe that the more a spirit vessel is the embodiment of the spirit themselves, the easier it is for the spirit to use that vessel to interact with us and our present reality.

An extreme example can help demonstrate this point.

Imagine you've gotten to know a water spirit. A mermaid, let's say, from an ocean world of pure, opalescent waters, where coral reefs are cities and pet jellyfish are decorated with pearls.

Imagine that the vessel for this mermaid is a jar painted red and decorated with symbols of fire, then further charged with fiery energy. Within the jar is rusty nails, polluted water from the side of the highway, and a heaping spoonful of chili flakes.

I would hazard a guess that you couldn't even agree to get that mermaid to use such a vessel as a telephone line, much less use it as their physical body.

It's not that the spirit is snooty - it's that you're asking him to come into contact with things that irritate and burn him. Not only would it require a huge amount of energy to overcome these differences, but the vessel would nonetheless cause him discomfort.

Intuition may even advise that a simple bowl of water would create a vastly improved "house" vessel for this spirit.

But if it's true that a vessel can be incompatible with a spirit, then it's reasonable to assume that a vessel can be made more and more compatible with a spirit, until it is highly compatible and therefore very easy for the spirit to link to it and use it.

To really improve our mermaid vessel, we might embroider the outside of a bag with a representation of a coral reef, place jellyfish charms and imitation pearls inside of it, and often soak the entire bag in cool, pure water.

This may be the perfect vessel for our mermaid, but totally unsuitable to the pollution monster, who wants to live inside of the rusty nails jar.

This is the primary reason why I find simple unmodified single-object vessels to be not that great. (Examples of this would be, a crystal ring or antique object purchased and used without modifying it to the tastes of the spirit)

While a spirit may select such an object from a lineup and request it's use as a vessel, that doesn't mean that it's going to be an effective vessel.

Especially combined with beliefs in witchcraft about the magical impact of modifying vessels to encapsulate the power of a spell or spirit,

I believe that an unmodified object for use as a spirit vessel is like casting a candle spell with a plain candle to which no herbs or energies are added, and all you do is imprint your raw intent and light the candle.

It'll maybe work, but not nearly as well as it could.

Therefore I believe the form of the vessel matters beyond whether or not the spirit personally likes it, and extends into the realm of sorcerous technique - spirit manifestation is affected depending on if the spirit vessel is made well or made poorly, and especially how much it is physically personalized to the spirit.

Creation of a Useful Vessel

In all cases: Modify the object(s) of the vessel as much as possible to reflect the nature and known qualities of the spirit. As much as possible, work with the spirit to choose modifications, or, work with known lore or with the assistance of spirit workers or diviners.

In the case where a single object (such as a stone) must be used:

Tie the object up in a net where each knot represents a foothold for the spirit to cling on to, or, where each knot ties up a bundle of energy of the sort of thing the spirit likes. (Can be then worn as necklace)

Paint or carve the object, even in a hidden area.

Add additional decorations and embellishments to reflect either the nature of the spirit, or to represent useful tools that the spirit can use to access the object.

Carve out the middle and add bits of paper (with name and permissions written on), and stuff with relevant herbs.

Sight-unseen, I wouldn't recommend single object vessels if you can't heavily/permanently modify them.

In the case where a container vessel (such as a bag, box, or bottle) may be used:

Decorate the exterior, and if space permits the interior, of the container to best reflect an environment enjoyable to the spirit. Consider various techniques: painting, embroidery, carving, burning, and so forth.

Selectively include objects which reflect the spirit's nature, including dried plants, stones, feathers, seeds, bones, and various objects from nature; also charms, trinkets, and tokens (factory-made is fine); also prayers or poems, or drawings or artwork, all of these things symbolic of the spirit and attempting to demonstrate its nature and totality

Include a written sigil or signature of the spirit, and it's name or known names, and epithets. Often best done in fancy magical ink if any is on hand. (I use Sharpies; no need to over-think it)

Charms, amulets, plants, prepared powders or oils, or otherwise, for the purpose of facilitating spirit manifestation and ease of travel between worlds; examples may include specially prepared threads to symbolize links and roads, special spirit-calling powder, magnets to "draw towards," symbols of the Crossroads or of safe and easy travel, and so forth.

In the case where the spirit is likened to an earthly animal, bones or preserved body parts are a very good addition.

In the case where the vessel is itself in the form of a body, such as a figurine or doll:

Hand-craft or heavily modify the creation to represent the vibes as much as possible

Dress, accessorize, ornament, and decorate the figure to represent the spirit or it's known attributes and purposes.

As handicrafters known more about their trade than I do, I don't want to over-comment. Make them a little body. Yes.

Inviting the Spirit to Utilize the Vessel

Unfortunately I will decline to try and provide a specific step-by-step ritual, mostly because I work more intuitively and don't actually have one written up.

But I'll do my best to explain how you can go about it, and some things to consider.

Basically, you'll want to conceptualize four steps:

Final magical preparations

Consecration

Dedication

Invitation

I'll try to explain the reasoning behind including these things, and of course, you'll want to modify or change all of them according to your preferences and needs.

In all cases: Use your magic to make the vessel lovely and filled with spiritual virtues that resonate deeply with the nature of the spirit. This is necessarily vague; a troubleshooting primer for energy work is beyond the scope of this post.

The timing of this work is very well done on special days where the spirit-roads are open, on full moons, or on Mondays.

In cases where the spirit already has a vessel and you want to give them a new one, there is no difference in operation. Make profane and reclaim the old vessel afterwords according to your desires.

Fill the vessel with two types of energy: The first being dense caloric energies from foods, especially oil, nuts, seeds, eggs, and fatty meat. This can be done by placing a food offering next to the vessel and dedicating the food to the spirit.

The second being ethereal and subtle energies, such as produced from blessed incense or energy work. This can be done by blessing and offering incense as you normally do, or channeling your personal energy into the vessel.

Consecrate the vessel: Perform any charm or ritual in your practice which delineates an object as being sacred and separate from the everyday, and turns the object into a Spirit Vessel. (Add'l details below)

Dedicate the vessel: Perform any charm or ritual in your practice which functions to formally gift-give an object to a god or a spirit.

Sometimes, a consecration and a dedication are done in the same ritual, especially when a god is concerned. E.g., "Witchfather, by your name this wand is made holy (consecration). I give this wand to you; it is yours, and when I use it, your hand guides it (dedication)."

The most simplest format of this is something like, "by [the powers I believe allow me to make thing sacred], I make this object sacred [and perhaps I sprinkle some saltwater or whatever formula I believe is necessary to help me make things sacred]. This object is now the vessel for a spirit. Now, it is a Spirit Vessel."

The above being the idea of a consecration; the dedication then being something like,

"[Spirit Name], I invite you into my world and my life. I give you Permission to dwell in this Spirit Vessel and make it your body and your home. I give you Permission to walk in this world through the conduit of this Spirit Vessel. It belongs to you, it is you."

(The above dedication perhaps also revealing something about why "telephone lines" may be a safer bet, the dedication for those being something like, "[Spirit Name], I invite you to observe this vessel and place your fingerprint upon it, so that when I work over it I call out to you, and you can hear me easily no matter how far apart we are.")

Anyway, put some real thought into exactly how much you want this spirit to manifest in your life, because spirit experiences - even when desired and invited - can be very intense and scary, especially if up to that point your experiences with spirits has been limited.

Invite the spirit into the vessel: If not included in your dedication, also formally invite the spirit.

"[Spirit Name], I've prepared this special Vessel for you, and given it to you. I have prepared the way with earthly and aethereal energies, so you may be well-fed and have the power to move within our world. [That's the offering bit innit]. Come now at this time and here in this place, and claim this Vessel as your own."

Etc., something like that.

At this time, the ritual is over with and you can commune with the spirit as desired or close the ritual down in your normal techniques.

Again, if there is an additional/old spirit vessel you no longer want to use, try talking with the spirit about what to do with it; but you can just let it "run dry" and then carefully undo the magic on it. After that, do with it as you please.

[newfallstrangeleaves]

Yandere in the apocalypse

Strawberries

M!Yandere X GN!reader Warning: stalking, mentions of killing. Summary: Continuation of the nightly visit story. The world has ended but that doesn't stop your yandere to prove (to nobody other than himself) that he can give you anything. He goes out of his way to get you something you want but things don't go as planned. Author's note: It was really nice to see the first part (and my first post) being so well received. Really thank you!!

Never will he be far behind. Always in the shadows watching over you. He truly is your guardian angel, undefeated protector, perfect boyfriend…

Though in a perfect world he would be close to you, show you how good he is to you.  But because of the friends of yours most of the time Aaron has to go unnoticed. But the times he does get close, he cherishes. 

The weather is nice and Aaron has spent the last 4 hours in a tree. Your group has made the decision to leave the city and head out into the wild. A decision he doesn't exactly agree with, for many reasons. Though your group has decided upon two night watchers now he dont believe for a second they could do a better job than him. 

Half of the group has split up from camp and gone out to look for food. You sit together with a girl with dark braids and a blond girl, who looks to be in need of a shower soon. The boy is there too, blissfully unaware of his surroundings and listening in on the conversation. 

“I LOVED to eat Moules frits, I could eat a whole bucket of those things.” The blond girl says. 

"Oh, you snob!” The braided girl exclaims. “Can you say something normal like a burger?” 

“But what is so weird about Moules frits? It's just Oysters and Fries! The blond pouts. 

“Wrong! It's Clams not Oysters, you idiot.” 

"You seem to know an awful lot about Moles frits, huh? Y/N, who do you think the real posh one is?” The blond looks over at you who throughout this whole conversation has just been smiling at the bickering. 

“Donno, seems like a tie, or what do you think Max?” You turn over to the boy who nods eagerly. You and Max exchange a look as the blond one rolls her eyes over dramatically, but the action prones a laugh out of the three of you. 

“What foods do you miss, Y/N?” Max asks when the laughing has died down. You think for a moment. 

“Well, not the canned potatoes that's for sure, or any other canned foods for that matter. I miss fresh ones, oh I know, I miss Strawberries!” You say. “And actually at this point I would be happy to have any shape, dried or fresh doesn't matter.” 

“Me too.” A voice from the bushes makes everyone jump.

Even Aaron is about to fall out of the tree. But when the other half of the group returns he swears over himself over the lack of awareness. But the conversation had made him think. If his love wants strawberries then she shall have strawberries. 

When night comes he sneaks down from his hideout. A week ago they passed a small community, odd people and overly religious. They had only really gotten a picture of them though three men who were out looking for a friend of theirs. The men had invited them back to their community but luckily your group had declined the offer. Good thing your group had caught their off vibes too and decided not to risk it. But when the both of your groups had parted ways and one of the men decided to turn back to you,  Aaron felt nothing good would come with a second encounter. So the man was killed and buried before sunrise. By then the group was up and away. 

But the men at the time had mentioned a garden filled with vegetables and fruits. Perhaps a tactic to lure you into their claws. But right now it's his best bet in finding Strawberries. 

Traveling alone ment moving at a much quicker pace. Perhaps he will be back to you in less than a week!

When he arrives he realizes the men weren't lying. If something they were playing it down by a lot.  Aaron could see “the garden” from a mile away by the size of it. The only problem he is facing now is getting in. It is surrounded by a huge fence, barbed wires, then on top of that they have built six hunting towers to guard from any intruders. 

He decides to wait until night time and while doing so he can feel his eyes grow heavier.

He wakes up (all stiff from sleeping in a tree) to the luck of a lifetime. Rockets are firing from the other side of the garden, somebody else is planning to break in too. He brings his handy pocket knife and while the guard's attention is elsewhere he takes the opportunity to run straight for one of the hunting towers. 

He just needs a little bit of luck to not be spotted now. Despite having two hunting towers at each side of him that could easily spot him he hopes their attention stays on the forest for intruders. 

The darkness hides him long enough to cut through the fence. His pocket knife pliers are weak, it takes time to cut through the fence. But not impossible. 

As he works up a hole big enough for him to fit through he can hear the guards discussing, the weak attack was quickly disarmed. But Aaron can sense them being on edge for anything else to happen. 

When he is through it's in and out. Their attention is not on the plantation but he still tries to hide amongst the greenery. It doesn't take long before he finds the red little berries. There are rows upon rows of them. They won't miss a few. When he is done collecting and placing the container back in his backpack, he turns to make his way out again. 

Just as he feels confident he is going to make it without getting spotted he gets just that. Spotted. He crawls through his hole as bullets start raining around him. His only option is to run and find shelter amongst the trees. He sprints as fast as he can, the trees approaching quickly. Just a few more steps. 

Then he feels one of the bullets hitting its target, a sharp pain shoots through his thigh. He lets out a cry of pain but with the adrenaline pumping his veins he doesn't stop. 

He pushes further and further through the forest even though he is not as fast as he would have liked, the people deciding to go after him seems to have given up the chase. Their voices grow more and more distant by the second. 

The following days are hard. He has to stop multiple times to not strain his wound too much. Worry starts to grow more and more each day. As he is slowing down you are walking further and further away. The fear something would have happened to you  while he was away grows stronger by the day. 

When the pain in his leg is unbearable as he is fighting to keep up a good pace he wishes he never left you. What if something has happened to you while he was gone? Why didn't he consider this before he left? How stupid he feels. 

He lets out a sigh of relief when he reaches a small lake and in the distance he can see your figure walking out in the water with your pants rolled up. So peaceful. Finally he can allow himself to rest and to heal. 

Mission accomplished too. He feels pride grow in his chest as he watches you. He can give you something nobody else can. He can't wait for your reaction. A smile only he could give you.

The next morning you wake up and the first thing you see is a small package with a note attached to it. 

“Whatcha got there?” Ginny asks as she frantically tries to brush through her blond curls with her fingers. 

“I don't know. Was here when I woke up.” You turn over the note and read what it says out loud. 

‘Got these for you. 

Until we meet, A.’

“A? There is no one here who starts with A.” Ginny says loudly. A ruckus begins amongst the ones that are awake. Their discussion is loud enough to wake up the rest.  

“What do I do with these?” You ask. 

“Leave them, it's not worth the risk.” Felice says and pulls her braids out from the shirt she just put on. “Come, you go with me from now on.” 

Aaron limps over to the spot you sat at as he is fighting tears. The anger and disappointment bubbling up in his chest. He wishes he could kill them, hurt them as they have hurt him. 

But all he does is pick up the berries. 

He knows revenge will come in due time.

[hoshologies]

ur aftercare drabble with mark is making me so soft🥹🥹 if it’s alright can u also write abt inexperienced reader who is having her first time with mark?

send me a kink/scenario + an idol (txt, svt, skz, enha hyung line, or nct dream) and i’ll write a drabble

warnings. afab!reader, making out, suggestions of sex (primarily f!receiving oral and penetration) smut is under the cut. minors do not interact.

your favorite thing about mark has always been his willingness to accomodate and make you comfortable. in any other man, this would be the absolute barest minimum, but mark approaches it like it’s the greatest honor that could ever possibly be bestowed upon him: he asks for your permission on everything, he tailors every date to your personality and interests and comfort level, he even waited for you to express interest in wanting to go beyond holding hands and hugging (though, in his excitement, your first kiss together ended up being a little messy, but it was sweet nonetheless). most of it stems from your inexperience; mark is your first real boyfriend and you want to make it work, so he’s been kind and patient with you, allowing you to set the pace.

like he’s doing right now, letting you settle yourself on his lap, your hands drifing across the soft expanse of his chest and stomach, places on him you’ve never seen before. he’s the only one in a state of undress; he told you that this can take as long as you need it to, so he didn’t rush to take your shirt off in the middle of the makeout session that had started in the middle of a movie, no long forgotten. your fingers trace, memorize every dip in his skin, every freckle, every mole newly discovered, and you feel him growing hard under you, hot and insistent in a way that stokes your own fire behind your navel.

he pulls your mouth to his again, a little bashful under your exploring gaze and looking for a way to get your eyes off him for a few moments so he can recollect himself. somewhere in the midst of it, his fingers, which had been resting dutifully on your lower back, dip under your sweater and you shudder; not in a bad way, though, because you like the feeling of his calloused fingertips against your skin. when he pulls away and looks up at you with his brown eyes wide and glassy, pleading, you nod and let him take your shirt off of you, all reverence and worshipful.

and then not long later, he’s got you on your back, your head resting on his many pillows. your shorts and bra have joined your abandoned shirt on the floor next to mark’s bed. like you, he’s left only in his boxers and when he looks up at you from between your legs, one hand on your thigh and the other toying with the hem of your underwear, you think you just about die on the spot.

“i know this is all new for you,” he says, tilting his head to the side just so. he looks inquisitive, earnest, like your pleasure and comfort are the only things in the world that matter to him. “so can i tell you what i want to do and you can decide if you want me to do that? because i just… really, really want this to be good for you.”

you nod and smile at him softly, a gesture he returns before he starts listing off, his eyes trained on you and gauging your reactions. you’re fighting off the mortification of being naked in front of a boy for the first time ever, of hearing him tell you that he wants to taste you, wants to feel you around him when you come. every part of you burns with embarrassment, but when he asks you with a gentle voice “is that okay? do you wanna try?” you really cannot bring yourself to tell him no because if you’re going to experience this with anyone for the first time, you’d prefer it with mark, who already treats you like a deity.

so you don’t. you tell him yes and he smiles. and he thanks you.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[queeries-book]

My best guess of how the severance chip works

This is how I think the severance chip works.

Warning: Long and slightly technical.

The severed area has a radio transmitter sending a location-code. There is also a main command tower sending encoded messages to all chips in its range.

The severance chip itself has a radio receiver (but no transmitter) for receiving both the location codes and commands. 

Its only output is some sort of signal to the subject's brain. I'll call it the Brain Function Altering (BFA) signal, which can say to the brain "go innie," "go outie," and possibly to go into other states, such as being knocked out. It is what causes the memories to be severed, and the two consciousnesses are created by the severing of memories. This is the show's commentary about how our memories make us who we are.

There's a logic processor to interpret the radio messages and decide what BFA signal to generate.

The BFA  signal generator is the most sci-fi part of this. I don't think (as a layman; I'm not a neuroscientist) that separating memories this cleanly will ever be possible.

The rest is feasible with today's technology. (I'm not sure about battery life, but apart from that.)

Spatially dictated severance and overrides

(I wrote a version of this in an earlier comment)

Spatially dictated just means the chip has software to detect where it is (by detecting the location code) and internal logic to 'go innie' whenever it receives a particular location code.

For example, in season 1 episode 1, Helly keeps trying to leave through the door. The switching from Helly to Helena and back is automated: the chip is in charge of detecting when to switch. Graynor doesn't need to watch her and manually push a button in synch with her leaving and returning.

But he can push a button that says "ignore location while you receive this signal." You can override the location logic using various manual controls, which are sent from the command tower with a specific person's chip as the intended recipient. It would likely start with "all chips except [Helena's Chip ID], ignore the rest of this message." Because if you beam that signal out, every chip can receive it.

OTC and Glasgow block are just two such overrides.

Notice that OTC is made intentionally difficult to do (hold down two switches), because they don't want to accidentally trigger it and have a bunch of innies roaming the world, spilling secrets. Lumon wouldn't even know where they were and so there would be no way to contain them.

On the ORTBO, the Dieter Eagan National Park needs to have a Lumon tower transmitting a location-specific signal. (Which is very possible. The birthing retreat might have had a portable tower.) Every severance chip there would detect the location code and 'go innie', except Helena's, which has the override.

Settings for different subjects' chips

Lumon would probably want to be able to specify the locations where each severed person "goes innie." 

If Gabriela Arteta went to Lumon's severed floor, would she turn into Gabby? 

If oMark had gone with Devon to Gabby's cabin at the birthing retreat, would he have become iMark?

I'm guessing Lumon would want to prevent this. So each chip would need to store, in memory, the location-codes that trigger "go innie."

Example commands

When Dylan set the OTC, the command tower sent:

"Everyone ignore this message except [Helena's chip ID], [Mark's chip ID], and [Irving's chip ID]. Start of message. Ignore location and go innie as long as you keep hearing this signal."

When they sent Helena as a mole, the command tower sent the Glasgow-Block-Command:

"Everyone ignore this message except [Helena's chip ID]. Start of message. Ignore location and stay outie until you receive a Remove-Glasgow-Block command."

Before the ORTBO, the command tower sent:

"Everyone ignore this message except [Helena's chip ID], [Mark's chip ID], [Dylan's chip ID],and [Irving's chip ID]. Start of message. Add [Dieter Eagan National Park's location code] to your list of locations to go innie."

So Helena's list of locations was updated, but she doesn't go innie until the Glasgow block is removed.

Also here

[mistydeyes]

𝓶𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼

𝓂𝓌 𝒾𝒾 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁

💌 if you want to peek at all of my writings

S E R I E S

"your prescription is ready for pick-up" - 141 x pharmacist!reader❤️

all of my works and our pharmacist reader

a panacea - 141 meets the cure to all their ailments

141 medical file - what the pharmacist sees when looking at 141′s files, accompanies “a panacea”

medically included dream - after a heroic action lands you on an operating table, your morphine drip has you experiencing some interesting dreams

sick day visit - you prided yourself on never getting sick but the day has finally come. as you’re resting in your quarters, a certain group pays you a visit :)

there is no cure for jealousy - what happens when a new recruit gets a little to flirtatious with the 141's favorite pharmacist?

first line treatments - before the sick days, counseling, and lunches together, you were only known as the newest pharmacist on base

pharmacist hcs!

keep your weapons hot and bodies hotter (18+) - stripper!141 x fem!reader (codename: Phoenix)❤️

hunk-o-mania 141 edition - feast your eyes on Delilah's Den's newest male dancers

playboy bunny phoenix edition - an unforeseen guest complicates the mission, now you have to get ready to act as the distraction on stage

the joys of civilian life - 141 x civilian!fem!reader

opposite occupations❤️ - while on leave, the boys each meet a civilian that makes their time deployed and defending their country worth it

take a walk in my shoes - the boys are home again! unfortunately, their significant other has to work but that doesn't mean they won't spend every moment in their presence

extra! the almost military wives gc - what the gf's talk about when the 141 isn't home

"the glance is often deceptive, not the nose" - 141, los vaqueros, könig, graves, laswell x reader what fragrances i think the boys would like on a significant other

part i (141 + alejandro)

part ii (rudy, könig, graves, laswell)

dancing with the enemy - 141 x undercover!fem!reader 141 is playing with fire when you are revealed to be an undercover enemy that's out to get them

family moments - 141 x fem!reader

little moments and little voices - precious moments you spend in your home with your husband and children :)

oh, darling, don’t you ever grow up - your husband leaves this world too early and now you have to pick up the pieces with your children

secrets and pointed fingers (requested!)❤️ - simon "ghost" riley

behind locked doors - when the 141 thinks you're the mole, they make sure to extract the information in whatever way possible

hollow apologies and avoiding glances - when you return back to base, everything is far from normal

half empty glasses and unchanging perspectives - you try to run away from the trauma at the pub but with a glass in hand, simon finds you

suppressed feelings of hatred - despite the 141 being gone from your sight, you still cannot cope with the past

miss americana - 141 x reader small relationship moments between the 141 and their american significant other

kyle "gaz" garrick edition

simon “ghost” riley edition

O N E - S H O T S

eyes for the stars - 141 x reader "hey siri, what do i do if my partner has a crush on a celebrity?" uh oh, see what happens when the boys get a little jealous of your celeb crush!

odd hobbies - 141 x reader everyone has their own hobbies, yours are just unique to 141’s perspective

have a drink - platonic! 141, los vaqueros x reader (codename: Brandy) everyone needs a break sometimes and you decide to treat the 141 and los vaqueros with your bartending skills

butterfly effect❤️ - 141 x fem!reader they say "a butterfly flaps its wings in the amazonian jungle, and subsequently a storm ravages half of europe." what once was a silly quote now has implications as one action leads to your death.

opposite of a meet cute❤️ - 141 x civilian!reader most people have a cute story as to how they met their significant other but yours is a little more eccentric

cold coffee and sloppy notes❤️ - 141 x student!reader the 141 helps you through the nuances of student life

V I S U A L S + R A N D O M

matching tattoos - 141 x reader what matching tattoos would you and the 141 get together?

high thoughts - you enjoy your time in amsterdam a little too well and make sure everyone knows it

bachelorettes parties and weddings - 141 x fem!fiancee!reader what would your bachelorette party and wedding be with the 141?

random things in pockets and bags❤️ SERIES - what does the 141 carry on them when they’re on leave?

pt i- kyle “gaz” garrick

pt ii - simon "ghost" riley

pt iii - johnny "soap" mactavish

pt iv - john price

P R O J E C T S

you are a work of fiction - 141 x reader what literary heroes would the 141 be

in a past life - it’s said everyone reincarnates after death, what life did the mw2 characters have before their current one?

E X P L A I N S my series of explaining the various timeline's of the games and characters

simon "ghost" riley's backstory

which modern warfare game should i play first?

𝓈𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓃 "𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉" 𝓇𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓎

"your prescription is ready for pick-up" - ghost x pharmacist!reader

fake hypochondriac (sequel to “a panacea”) - ghost goes to extreme lengths to see his favorite pharmacist

tuberose and rose tinted glasses - ghost meets a perfumer in grasse, france - the capital of fragrance

simon riley’s backstory (a request) - simon’s tragic backstory with his family

r e q u e s t s 

a scarlet red dress - ghost x oc! ghost and riot share an intimate moment, all started when riot decides to dig out a red dress from her closet

ghost’s doppelgänger❤️ - 141, los vaqueros x fem!reader how does the 141 and los vaqueros react to you joining the team? their reactions are even better when you share an uncanny resemblance with ghost

an invasion of the scots❤️ - ghost x fem!reader worlds collide when you visit the base and you realize your dating the teammate of your cousin, johnny mactavish

tamer of dogs and ghost- ghost x fem!reader ghost has fallen in love with you, the army’s resident veterinarian and dog handler

a fiery love story - ghost x gn!reader simon thinks he has everything under control but it's actually you and your secret ability to control fire 

brazilian heat - ghost x fem!reader when the 141 finds themselves in brazil, you make a lasting impression on simon in a bar

a child's eye of the tiger - ghost x fem!reader simon comes home just in time to see your daughter kick ass at a jiu jitsu competition!

𝒿𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒

"your prescription is ready for pick-up" - price x pharmacist!reader

pain-killer fueled thoughts (sequel to “a panacea”) - price landed himself in the medic tent and his pain killers are making him tell the pharmacist his feelings.

𝒿𝑜𝒽𝓃𝓃�� "𝓈𝑜𝒶𝓅" 𝓂𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒽

undercover and undiscovered feelings - soap x fem!reader it's bad enough your mission puts you under the spotlight, now you have to deal with your feelings for the scotsman too?

𝓀𝓎𝓁𝑒 "𝑔𝒶𝓏" 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓀

choose your flowers, carefully - gaz x childhood love!reader

faint whispers of flowers SERIES - as you bundled the wild array of periwinkles, daffodils, yellow tulips, marigolds, zinnias, and phlox, you couldn’t help but think how something so beautiful can also has its own language.

follow gaz and his childhood friend through life as they tell you their story with flowers.

part I - periwinkles and daffodils

part II - yellow tulips

part III - marigolds and zinnias

part IV - phlox

extra content

building blocks and alphabet letters - gaz x fem!reader (established relationship) you never would’ve thought you would be married and have a daughter with the boy who was eating toy blocks in daycare. but here you are, reassuring your toddler that going to school isn’t the end of the world.

an undercover beach episode - gaz x fem!reader (codename: genesis) you're always paired with gaz for undercover missions but this time your uniform is a pair of bathing suits

r e q u e s t s

modern day nightingale - gaz x gn!nurse!reader an injury lands gaz in your care but despite the unfortunate meeting, you find yourself in a budding relationship. however this isn’t a fairytale romance and ends when he’s discharged without a word :(

dumb and in love - gaz x gn!civ!reader kyle may be the smartest one on the field, he’s a little dense when it comes to realizing you’re in love with him

we're the widows - kyle "gaz" garrick x reader kyle's secret girlfriend has an undercover alias: the major of a secret task force of women soldiers  

𝒶𝓁𝑒𝒿𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓇𝑜 𝓋𝒶𝓇𝑔𝒶𝓈

just the way you look tonight WIP - alejandro x afab!reader everyone thought you and alejandro would be married by now but alas you still don’t have a ring on your finger. however, after attending simon’s wedding, something changes for alejandro.

𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓅 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈

graves headcanons - phillip graves is two things 1. an asshole and 2. very american, here's some headcanons for this problematic man

r e q u e s t s

graves returns - graves x fem!reader you thought your husband was dead but now he's at your apartment after you were suppose to be off-the-grid

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈

medication mixup - 141 x reader the medic unknowingly prescribing you a penicillin has disastrous results due to your allergy

141’s dossier❤️ - see what the dossiers laswell gets at the end of mw 2019 looks like! + template

the scene life - 141 x fem!scene!reader with your eccentric style and love for raves, you show the 141 a peek into your life

running mascara PART I and PART II❤️ - 141 x fem!reader harsh words are said and you try your best to run away from the cause. however, everyone needs to face the issue eventually and now the 141 is left to pick up the pieces. initially part of my 1k celebration but i added a sequel as it was highly requested!

horror movie protagonist - 141, könig x gn!platonic!reader a common hazing ritual is to watch a gruesome horror movie but the 141 is a little put off when you watch it with a smile on your face

vidcon but uk edition - 141 x reader what would your life be with the 141 if you were a YouTuber?

tamer of dogs and men❤️ - simon "ghost" riley x vet!reader simon finds his heart in the army's vet captain

cabin fever - simon "ghost" riley x reader after a mission goes wrong, you and ghost are left to find warmth in a snowed out cabin

science and pheromones - simon "ghost" riley x male!reader the bunsen burner isn't the only thing that's heating up when you and ghost, your body guard, are left alone in the lab

a spice girl extra - 141 x reader when you show up at the pub, the boys are surprised at your choice of attire. it's like you walked out of the 2000's or something! PT II - when you take the boys to the club

an artist’s touch - 141 x platonic!reader how does the 141 react to you being an artist in your free time?

last name: riley❤️ - 141 (except ghost) x fem!reader flirtations and chaos ensues when you arrive on base and the 141 realizes your ghost’s cousin!

the final girl trope - 141 x gn!reader you have a past you keep hidden but once it comes to the surface, you entertain the 141 with your own horror movie plot

shutting down the patriarchy❤️ - 141 x gn!fem!reader after a long day, all you want to do is unwind but when two certain sergeants get in the way, you’re sure to shut them up

migraines and forehead kisses - 141 x fem!reader the 141 is willing to do the most for you when you come down with your frequent migraines

fear of small things - 141 x platonic!reader despite being a badass soldier, you have one enemy: insects

fit for a magazine cover - 141 x fem!reader all the eyes and cameras are on you when you walk the victoria secret fashion show runway

she's a rich girl - 141 x fem!reader you love to spoil the 141 and show them the more extravagant things in life

small bundle of fluff and joy❤️ - 141 x platonic!reader the 141 meets your tiny, furry companion

teratogenic injury❤️ - 141 x platonic!fem!reader when an injury takes you out, you're surprised to hear that you can no longer have children. the 141 is more surprised when you tell them it's a blessing in disguise

hacking with a grey hat - 141 x platonic!reader the 141 is at odds when they meet one of the most infamous hackers to date

a double life - 141 x fem!reader what happens when the 141 becomes a bit more patriotic in dating their CIA secret agent significant other?

mw2 x reader - my ongoing series of pairing y'all up and writing a short lil blurb about how you met and your relationship

P R O J E C T S

[fqrcefields]

hexenbesen / ಇ.

summary _ , two young witches in a field of flowers. inspired by the 1x05 of agatha all along!

⋆ tags : sickeningly sweet fluff, salem flashback agathario! ⭑ࣶࣸ 

read on ao3.

 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀────୨ৎ────

Crimson blood pools at tired fingers, but they do not stop their work. Though sharp thorns prick her knuckles and pollen tickles her nose, she will not stop until it’s perfect. Until it’s befitting of her own flower, of her savior.

Agatha bites on her tongue, focusing as much of her brain’s power onto the large stick in her lap, desperate to make it as beautiful as possible. Though, nothing she could ever make would ever befit the woman that sits beside her. Not even all of the flowers in the world could compare to the raven-haired girl whose own focus is on Agatha’s hair, braiding intricately, weaving small baby’s breath blossoms into the mess of curls.

“Are you quite finished?” The shorter questions, her voice low, barely above the hum of pollinators that surround them.

“No.” Agatha only gruffs in return, fussily readjusting herself on their shared stump, slouching deeper so she may recieve a better look at the flowers that are causing her such strife. “It’s not perfect yet.”

“It doesn’t need to be perfect, my love.” Rio sighs, finally dropping her hands, pleased with her work, the small blossoms and leaves plaited into Agatha’s wild hair so delicately. Yet, her hands never stray far from the brunette locks. Though she now rests her head against Agatha’s shoulder, her fingers still tangle in the curls, her light brushing against hair and cloak always sparking the hitching of breath, the leaning into touch.

“So says you.” Agatha snorts, casting her gaze toward the most beautiful botanic creation one could ever lay eyes upon, the broomstick upon which Rio had cast her earthly magick. “You are flora personified, my dear. I’ll be lucky if I complete this with ten working fingers.” She laughs softly, nuzzling her cheek against the head that lays at her shoulder.

Rio only smiles, offering a small kiss to the flesh beside the small mole on Agatha’s neck, her hands drawing lazy circles into the woman’s corset. How she longed for the fabric to be gone, for the thick boning to be cast aside so that her fingers may dance over the flesh that they’ve become so addicted to in such a short time. Rio’s gaze is only on Agatha, and though the vision of her lover hard at work is blurry from proximity, her eyes dare not move. Though they are surrounded by flowers the likes of which never once bloomed in Salem, Rio does not pay them mind. She does not care for the billowing wheat nor the sun in the sky, she only feels need to watch over Agatha, to study the minute expressions, the way her eyebrows furl when she drops yet another petal to the ground.

Though there is a twinge of fear threatening her mind, an ever-persistent worry that the bodies of those witches that together they sent to the afterlife may not truly be gone, that behind any tree may lurk the evil woman that so pained the heart of her love. Rio buzzes with fury at the even the smallest thought of Evanora, she so wishes she had been the one to kill her. Though, she would have used her own two hands, watched with glee as the light fled from the already lifeless eyes that haunted Agatha’s dreams.

She���s gone, Rio reminds herself with each step she takes. She’s gone, and no one dare lay a hand on my Agatha for the rest of her life.

Rio is thrusted from her own fantasy when the taller shifts the heavy wood between her hands, a seemingly satisfied sigh falling from chapped lips. Rio’s own turn to a smile as she reaches to place a hand over Agatha’s, to calm the nerves pumping manic energy throughout the witch.

“It’s perfect.” Rio whispers, sitting upright to accept the broom, giggling softly as she scans the added adornments. Though she usually would not approve of this sort of destruction of earth, the killing of flowers for the sake of prettification, she cares more for Agatha than she’s ever cared about the soil. Though the ivy is thrown on haphazardly and many of the flowers have little remaining color, it’s more the time spent agonizing over perfection that truly matters. She sees the glint in Agatha’s hazel eyes, the way her brows slightly turn up in the inner corner, the awkward half-smirk begging for Rio’s approval. Rio has expressed countless times how much she will never stop loving Agatha, how Agatha will never do wrong in her eyes, and yet she is persistently met with that so doleful expression of a young girl begging for to be held.

It's this pout that forces the broom out of Rio’s hands, dropping to the clover floor, and tugs Agatha into just the hug her eyes beg for. A hug so desperately needed that it takes Agatha’s breath from her lungs, causes the already teary eyes to release their water, her arms wrapping so tightly around Rio’s frail body.

“I will love you until the end, mi vida.” Rio whispers into the hair that covers Agatha’s ear, her arms pulling the other impossibly tighter. They each know for certain how far away their end is. Their love will span centuries, the rise and fall of empires, millions of changing shapes of the moon. And there they will stand, in its cast glow, growing old in their own way, holding each other close on stumps just as this one.   

When Agatha lifts her head, the tears have ceased. She doesn’t often cry, opting for a nature of stoicism and sarcasm, and yet Rio Vidal has turned her into a mess of emotion. She had never cried before meeting the green witch, not even when her mother was so very cruel, when she felt as though she would never be accepted by even her fellow witches. She now wears the smallest suggestion of a smile, as it would be quite impossible not to when gazing upon a woman one so adores. Agatha stands, pulls Rio with her, her grip tight on the green cloth draped over Rio’s shoulders.

“And I will love you even after it.” Agatha’s minimal smile now only grows in size, making her feel so childish. A smile is the mark of a fool, as her mother would say. That old crone is long dead now, as are all of Agatha’s worries of foolishness, of disobeying orders and disrespecting tradition. Agatha wears the smile with pride, and will dance by the fire as often as she pleases, because she is with a woman who will be her partner in dance, the very cause for the felicity portrayed in her laughter.  

Rio tilts her head the half inch to accept a small kiss, the grin on Agatha’s lips so contagious that she catches one of her own. The green witch bends to take up broom she’s been offered, turning it over in her hands, not minding the way the splintered wood needles her skin. She hands her own creation to Agatha, feeling a blush rise to her cheek at the action. It all feels so romantic, as if formally requesting courtship, offering branch and flower in place of a ring. However, Rio knows well that as soon as they reach civilization, find themselves settled, at home, Rio will find a ring. Though her earthly inclinations push her towards braided wheat and lemongrass, a fine enough ring for witches of the forest, the love that they share deserves to be forged in the way that man may offer ring to lady. Rio will mine the silver herself if need be.

“My mother was a wicked beast,” Agatha begins, spitting at the mere mention of her mother, stepping out into the field of flowers, tilting her broom horizontally towards the soil. “but at least she taught me to fly.” She beckons Rio to do the same, the two beginning their clockwise circle, Agatha beginning the chant.  

Protae, delecta, aparia, vium.

And, even when she knows that the ritual has been completed, that these brooms will take them as deep into the night sky as they so need, she continues in her circle, her words gaining tune, the skirt at her heels swinging with fervor when her slow movements turn to a skip. She drops the wood into the cover of flowers, Rio does the same, and they take hands, finally letting their girlhood consume them, allowing the breeze against their noses as two young women would, not as witches with death’s belt notches heavy on their consciences. They are free in this moment, twirling around in a field of bluebells and mayflowers, only reveling in shared love and the sweet scent of evening air.

The two dancers eventually find themselves a patch of grass, fallen to their knees in a fit of laughter and kisses, not a care for the dirt that covers their skirts nor the sweat in their hair. Neither have once experienced a true springtime, only the sloshing winter, the excessive heat of Salem’s summer. There was no joy within the log walls of Salem, no bliss in its forests nor its mold-smattered buildings. There was no fresh air to breathe, no grass to tickle the ankles. It’s here that they are free, two women with the rest of their lives to spend in fields and open air.

“Where will we go?” Rio asks softly when their laughter has finally settled, their dew-covered hands interlocked, each rubbing gentle reminders of presence into the other’s skin.

“Wherever the wind takes us, I suppose.” Agatha replies, shifting her weight so that she may press a series of small kisses to Rio’s cheek, then to the hands that she holds in her own.

It is that very wind that lifts them off of their feet, that loud, uncontrollable laughter erupting from both women as they rise to the sky, joining the stars they so frequently sit below. Neither knows where to direct their travels, so they face the moon, its light always guiding them to a place where they may be together. Rio’s cackling amusement echoes through the air, her astonishment evident as they float high above trees. While Rio looks down over the earth they’ve just left, Agatha can only stare at the raven-haired witch, trapping the vision of her beloved’s awe-struck smile so that it may never leave her mind. Even God himself could not force Agatha’s eyes from Rio at this moment, or at any moment to come. Though the moon in the sky was once Agatha’s favorite vision, and though they are so close to it now, she is pulled by Rio’s gravity, entirely enthralled by the woman that she will spend the rest of her waking days loving.

[sixosix]

I DRIVE DOWN DIFFERENT ROADS | S. HEIZOU

“you look so pretty,” the stranger with twin moles murmurs, “like it’d be a crime not to want you.”

or, you met a detective once on an unexpected night; fate decides that it won’t be the last time

tags cw drunk character, POV meet-cute and he makes a fool out of himself but u want him anw, drunk heizou, pre-relationship, bff!kazuha

a/n wc 1500, wow this is the longest i’ve written this month!

next part

inazuma wasn’t your first region of destination in mind when listing down vacation ideas. going on vacation wasn’t even on your to-do list—it has been that way for the past three years. 

“don’t be ashamed to ask. you know i would say yes,” yelan, your distant relative who is somewhat of a mentor to you, had told you herself when you briefly mentioned your plans.

yet as you trek through the dewy grass of chinju forest, you mourn all those years when you could’ve taken in inazuma’s sights much earlier when you needed it the most.

chinju forest is completely different from liyue harbor. it’s dim; the sun mysteriously never rises, and it’s filled with flowers—the same ones that glimmer so brightly that everything about the forest looks blue, overpowering the lanterns and candles spread throughout. and although it doesn’t feel like home, you wouldn’t mind spending a few months or so in here.

liyue harbor is always bright with splashes of color: bustling with merchants and tourists, with storytellers and friends you see on occasion. friends who wanted you to see the beauty of other places, too.

kazuha had let you in on his plan to return to inazuma for a bit to visit old friends—and since the traveler had worked the traveler magic on inazuma, too, it became safe enough for kazuha to invite you along with it.

it took some convincing and some restless nights of you imagining yelan saying no, but it turns out she is more than happy to send you off to another region, oceans away. says she could use one herself. and now here you are, freely exploring, taking in new, breathtaking sights, meeting new people, fawning over their food, realizing the world is much bigger than you thought.

and also stumbling into a drunk man tipping side-to-side as he weaves through the forest.

cautiously, you sneak behind a tree, watching the inebriated stranger walk like he’s about to twirl around, catch his own feet over his ankle, and fall face-first.

he looks young. if he were next to you in liyue they’d assume he’s exactly your age, with unruly hair and a short height. in the soft, blue glow of the forest’s fluorescent flowers, this stranger looks like the type of handsome you’ve read in books. soft, striking.

“who’s there?”

your eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. for someone barely able to walk a straight line, he’s able to sense your presence the moment your breath hitched; a concealed disturbance in the air.

should you leave?

unfortunately, the thought that kazuha would want you to guide this vulnerable man back to the city torments your conscience. even if you’re oceans away, protecting people and keeping them safe is still your duty.

with a sigh, you step out from the shadows, catching the way the man takes your figure in with squinted eyes. you respond with an inquisitive expression, and he stumbles nearer.

“there…there are— are they still chasing…?” he asks, and you first notice how he has a mole under each eye.

“chasing you? are you a criminal?”

“what….” he looks around, head spinning so fast even you got a little dizzy. “criminal? where?” he garbles, looking as if he’s a second away from throwing up.

“no, i’m asking you— ugh, never mind. who’re you?” you hold him up by the arm, feeling merciful. his weight suddenly doubles as he leans over you, leaving you no choice but to pin him against the tree to keep him from falling.

“the name— i’m,” he manages to say, his words sticking together stubbornly. “shikanoin…sharpest, most successful—”

“okay, okay,” you exhale loudly, not understanding a thing, “let’s just go back.”

“who are… you?” he asks, spitting the last word out, trying to mimic your tone. it fails miserably. his eyes widen as if he sees you for the first time. “oh, wow… you’re pretty. wow. where did you come from? why are you holding me up like this? are you weird?”

baffled by the onslaught of questions, you can only blink at him incredulously. “i’m not a weirdo! i’m trying to help you. you’re drunk out of your mind. and alone!” how did he even get here?

“you look so pretty,” he murmurs instead, “like it’d be a crime not to want you.”

this is getting nowhere.

you pull away in favor of checking if the stranger has anything of use to you. all you can note is a sheathed jitte, a particularly revealing top, and an anemo vision. he wavers again with the loss of your support, resulting in you reflexively reaching out to hold onto the side of his torso. where it’s bare.

“you— you like what you see?” he slurs, and impressively strikes a million-dollar smile despite the droop of his eyes and flush on his face.

“not at all,” you lie. “let’s get back to the city.”

you are, to be frank, tired and ready to slack off for the rest of the day, finding kazuha be damned. staying too long in chinju forest messed with your sense of time; you were expecting sunrise by the time you returned to the city, yet it had only just set.

( not to mention, on the entire way back, the stranger kept talking your ear off, going on and on about how extraordinary and young he is—how pretty you are and how mystified he is. you can guess what his role is here in inazuma judging from his jitte, though you hardly care about how his superiors belittle him and how he laughs in their faces when he solves cases they rip their “receding” hair off dealing with. )

men dressed in various shades of purple saw you dragging him and rushed over to you, crowding over and filling up the small circle with more stench of alcohol. they were all varying levels of drunk, which explains a lot of what happened to the one you met. one of them apologized profusely, though you weren’t listening at all, gaze caught on the way they dragged your stranger away, verbally assaulted with berating left and right.

they were holding him by the arms, looking too much like an apprehended criminal. all that you could think back to was the way he was staring intently at you, too, as if he can’t take his eyes off.

“he’s not usually like this.” the man apologizing is still talking, you faintly realize, zoning back in—yet your eyes never strayed, even as your stranger is far enough to be out of earshot. “he got too competitive.”

“it’s fine,” you say, clipped. “did he win?”

he blinks. “did he— sorry, what?”

“did he win?”

“...yes.” the man’s brows furrow, looking confused.

you bow in respect, smiling politely when your head tilts back up. “i’ll take my leave now, thank you.”

two days later

kaedehara kazuha sits on a rock, watching the sun rise in silence that you quickly disrupt the moment you spot the mop of light hair. he turns his head curiously, having noticed you before you even spoke.

“kazuha!” you exclaim, picking up your pace. “kazuha, there you are. i couldn’t find you at all yesterday. you should’ve seen it—gorou showed me some good views of watatsumi island.”

“i apologize…” he says sheepishly, and to his credit, he does look guilty. “did you have fun? a friend caught wind of my return and whisked me away before i could warn you.”

you laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. “it’s alright. it’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

“how are you liking inazuma so far?” he asks, shifting to give you more space.

you try to think back to the beauty of watatsumi, gorou’s enthusiasm, and kokomi’s hospitality, but all you can think of is luminescent flowers and twin moles and your hands meeting a bare waist instead of fabric.

“i met this drunk guy in chinju forest. he was just really weird, though, no one worth worrying over,” you recount, pointedly leaving out other details. “i helped him get back in the city. reminds me of what i had to do to you and beidou.” 

“sounds eventful,” kazuha muses, hiding a smile behind a leaf he had snatched out of the air. “where did you leave him off?”

“some guys took him. his co-workers, maybe. hope he doesn’t get fired, poor guy.” you’re starting to not like kazuha’s stare, like he can see the images you’re getting in your head. swiftly, you change the topic back to him. “how about you? what were you doing yesterday?”

“well.” he clears his throat, straightening. hesitantly: “you see—and please, hear me out before you say anything—this friend of mine wants to meet you. urgently, in fact.”

“in a few hours, if possible, he said.”

kazuha should’ve started the conversation with that.

a/n no way heizou fic No way...... no way!!! anyway this was actually rlly fun to write i love heizou so much i can only hope i do him justice in the next part where i have to write him in all his heizou glory </3 title is from ts song guess which one

[crunchcrunchteacakes]

I see many people speculating that just like Yuri unconscious Loid will call out Yor’s name, especially since Fiona disguise looks so much like Yor’s and she has been exhibiting Yor like strength in the recent chapters.

It might just happen, the black hair and the way they frame the face the bag and the coat with buttons really look like Yor’s outdoor ensemble. Is Fiona subconsciously trying to look like Yor to make Loid fall for her or is she purposefully trying to emulate Yor’s disguise so that she can take Yor’s place in Operation Strix?

But also Winston Wheeler looks suspiciously like Twilight too, they even have the same mannerisms.

And when I was reading the below panel it sort of felt like foreshadowing of Yor and Loid’s fight because of how much Wheeler and Fiona looked like Twiyor.

Wheeler like Twilight is an extremely talented spy, calm under pressure, good with disguise and an resourceful agent. They both talk about not forming sentimental attachments and not investing into anything. Wheeler is a mole/double agent with no clear loyalties who seems to be a Spy for his own amusement as he is to sacred to trust anyone other then himself. Twilight to doesn’t trust anyone other then himself, he has a strong sense of responsibility in that it is his responsibility and his alone to make his mission successful. That makes him take his job very seriously by making his mission the most important thing in his life. They both will soon discover that it’s not weakness to depend on others. Twilight felt powerless as an orphan his childhood was filled with loneliness and without hope so that’s the way he chooses to live his adulthood to. Just like Yor found her motivation during the Cruise Arc, I think Loid will find it at the end of this arc to. What good would his abandoning of forger family be if it comes at the cost of making Anya cry?

Whereas Fiona, like Yor shows that Wheeler’s philosophy are wrong, emotions don’t make you weak but lend you strength, as strength can only be found when trying to protect someone other then yourself, by sacrificing yourself for the sake of another. Fiona sacrificed her limbs while Yor sacrificed her soul. Difference is while Fiona is selfish as her motivations are to gain Twilight’s affections , she has a dangerous obsession towards Twilight and will make sure to obtain him by any means necessary, like sabotage Operation Strix, no matter how Twilight himself will be affected in the end because the only thing she care about is her own feelings. Yor took on the role of both mother and father for Yuri, provided him with all the resources, support and love necessary to make him into a functional adult and this sacrifice came at the cost of her own childhood and innocence. But it is selfless and that’s why Yuri returns the affection in such magnitudes. Both Fiona and Yor need to learn to do things for themselves, Fiona needs to discover who she is apart from her obsession for Twilight. And Yor needs to learn value herself she needs to accept the love she readily gives others.

So I think Wheeler and Fiona are supposed to represent the dark side of Twiyor’s professions and extremes of their personalities. They are Loid and Yor if Loid and Yor didn’t have Nobel motivations of creating a world where children don’t cry or protecting Yuri’s carefree childhood. But at the same time Wheeler and Fiona represent what Loid and Yor would eventually become without having Anya of each other in their life.

[starryriize]

delulu thoughts | sungho

a/n: happy new year !! here’s a lil something that i wrote for myself because sungho is just so perfect :( i hope you all enjoy this 🧚🏼‍♀️

ஐ he’s the type to splurge on you because he thinks you’re worth the whole world

ஐ bf!sungho who always puts you first :(( he’s the type to thinks ahead so best believe he’s planned out dates for you to go on!

ஐ bf!sungho who lets you sleep on his shoulders 🥹 it doesn’t matter where! if you wanna sleep, he will make sure you get the beauty sleep you need

ஐ like jaehyun, he’s memorized your favorite coffee!! he likes to bring you to new cafes and then post you on his insta!! 🫶🏼 absolute bf goals

ஐ bf!sungho who takes every. single. opportunity to flirt with you!! he’s a confident man and he knows his affect on you 😫

ஐ bf!sungho who loves to pinch your cheeks and calling you cute :((

ஐ probably gives the most gentle, yet passion filled kisses!! yk how they say your moles and imperfections are where your past lover kissed you? he’d kiss you EVERYWHERE omg practically worships you

ஐ 1000% teaches you to cook (bc if you’re like me, i should never be near a kitchen) he’s so patient with you too!! loves seeing your eyes sparkle as you eat the meals he makes 😌

ஐ loves listening to you drone on about your favorite pastimes! gives him time to admire you and truly appreciate the small details about you

ஐ thinks you’re the prettiest when you’ve just woken up! the way your hair is just all over the place…makes him want to spend forever with you!!

ஐ saves desserts for you!! esp when he’s at some event, he’ll bring home some petit fours or a cookie saying “oh yeah, i was thinking about you”

ஐ same goes for how he gets presents! he’s incredibly thoughtful so he’d be shopping with his friends and see something you’d mentioned needing- and he’ll buy it 🥹

ஐ LOVES your fit checks!! he’s the perfect bf so he’s never afraid to show you off and tell the world that you literally have perfect style 🫶🏼 hypes you up when you’re unsure of your outfit

ஐ in return, he’s genuinely so appreciative when you come and support him!! lowkey brags to his members like “see!! my s/o is supporting me 🥰”

ஐ an overall green forest!! would definitely dance with you even if there wasn’t any music! recreates his favorite kdrama scenes with you too (he secretly loves seeing you smile at his acting skills)

ஐ as he wears contacts, he gets so much relief when he gets home and takes the contacts out! so much more comfortable with glasses on and proceeds to lounge on the couch with you

ஐ 1000% will dry your hair for you even if you tell him that it’s okay to air dry😭 (he’s so perfect sighs)

ஐ at the end of the day, he secretly knows he’s going to end up marrying you and he’s already asked your parents !

[greensimp]

IF YOU UHM TAKE REQUESTS: could you do Gyutaro x extremely near-sighted s/o who refuses to wear glasses (only uses them occasionally) ?? I love your writing 🫂

Ayyy now there’s a handicap I actually have. Although I rarely take my lenses off, even when I sleep (if you wear glasses DO NOT DO THIS IT’S BAD FOR THEM). Thank you for this request, I was hoping I’d finally get one soon 😊.

______________________________________________________

Gyutaro With A Near-Sighted Reader

TW: foul language, trauma, implied/referenced bullying

A/N: reader is AFAB coded. I gave this one a lil "how you met" story before doing the headcannon stuff.

_______________________________________________________

You hate wearing your lenses. In the past, you’d be relentlessly teased for having them. You’d be called an old lady, a freak, a defective, just about everything under the sun. When your father decided to sell you to the Kyogoku house, he refused to allow you to wear them as it would hinder your chances of being accepted as a courtesan. You didn’t want to be sold, but you didn’t have a choice. Your father’s farm had a bad year for crops, as a disease ravaged about 80% of them.

Without your lenses, you were a beauty in the eyes of the public. Most people didn’t recognize you from your childhood, as you looked very different without them on. Over the years, you’d grown to navigate your extremely blurry world somewhat gracefully, but you still had your difficulties.

And that’s when you caught the eye on him.

Daki hadn’t exactly noticed how you stumbled over dips in the floorboards that a normal person would have easily spotted, nor had she noticed how you used your arms to feel how close objects actually were to you. But he did. He noticed how you’d need to lower your face just a few inches from papers to read them. Had he been spying on you in your room to gain this little morsel of knowledge about you? Maybe. His interest had been piqued after all.

Near sighted young people were extremely rare at this point in history. He wanted to devour you. He wanted to see you as pathetic. He wanted to toy with your emotions.

While you were away at the markets one night, Gyutaro rummaged through your belongings. His suspicions of your defective eyes were confirmed as he revealed a pair of lenses in the very back of one of your drawers. Obviously, you had not used them for quite some time. The excitement he felt at this discovery gave him a sick pleasure as he knew what to do next.

He waited for you to return, standing in the darkest corner of your room. Once you entered and sat on your mat, exhausted from having to avoid bumping into everyone and everything in the bustling entertainment district, a low, terrifying giggle startled you, causing you to fall to your back with a squeak.

“Look at you. So helpless, Like a little mole rat.”

A wobbly male voice teased you from the corner. Your eyes shot toward the source, but the only thing you could make out was a dark amorphous figure shrouded in shadow.

“W-who a-are you? A c-customer? I’m sorry b-but I’m done with s-services for the night-“

The male giggled louder, cutting you off.

“What’s the matter? Can’t see me?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Did he know? How could he know?!

“Of c-course I can’t! Y-You’re in the d-dark!”

Annoyance was bubbling through your fear. You’ve had some creepy clients, but this one was just plain rude.  

You couldn’t tell he was moving closer to you until a pair of glowing orange orbs began to come into focus.

“You sure it’s just the dark, sweetheart?”

The sickening tone he used for the name he gave you sent a shiver down your spine, but you remained still. Partially out of fear, partially out of indignance that this guy was invading your personal space.

“Just what d-do you think you’re doing? Stay back! I told you my room is closed for the night!”

This isn’t the first time a man has intruded on you. Most of the time when you’re firm enough, they tend to just scoff and leave, promising to complain to the house owners about your “behavior.” However, you were growing increasingly aware of the dangerous aura of the man that was now about 5 feet away from you. In the dim candlelight, you could finally make out a fuzzy green blob framing the orbs you noticed moments ago. Was that his head? Green is such an unusual hair color.

“I don’t think I wanna leave just yet. Not before I have some fun.”

Your heart sunk. He was right in front of you now, and you could finally see just how tall and imposing he was. There was no way you’d stand a chance against him. You thought about calling for the Oiran, who was merely a couple of doors down from you.

“Oh, I wouldn’t start screaming if I were you, hehe.”

He crouched, his blurry form still seemingly towering over you, but his face was becoming a bit clearer. If you squinted, you could even maybe make out some black markings inking out the sickly grey color of his skin.

“W-What do you w-want from me?!”

You tried to back away, but your body refused to cooperate with you. Then, a rectangular shape began swinging in front of your face.

“Why don’t you slip these on for me, girl? Take a good look at who you’re talking to.”

You recognized the case he was dangling in front of you. It was close enough to even make out the familiar patterns in the fabric. Your breathing became erratic as the traumatic memories that came with that case started to surface in your mind.

“G-Get that thing away from me!!! How did you find that?!”

You began cowering, but not from him. Your arms shielded your face as you expected a rock to be chucked your way like all those years ago. All those cruel, pretty girls that treated you like dirt because of those stupid, ugly things.

Confusion suddenly washed over him. He hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction from you. At least, not before you put the lenses on. He narrowed his eyes at your shrinking form, frowning, and hummed to himself.

Somehow, this was becoming a lot less fun.

“Y’know, I was expecting this after you put these on, you pathetic girl. The hell is wrong with you?”

His words made you pause.

“Wha-what do you mean?”

He growled, becoming frustrated. He brought his fingers to the opening of the pouch and fished out your lenses before shoving them your way.

“Put em’ on and find out.”

The sight of your lenses brought a tremble to your fingertips.

“I… I can’t”

He scowled and shook his hand up and down.

“Whaddya mean ya can’t?! Are ya stupid or somethin’?!”

You felt your eyes mist over at his words, causing you to wrench them shut and shake your head.

“NO!”

In mere moments, your hand flung through the air and knocked the lenses to the ground.

He just stared at you in disbelief, his hand still outstretched to you.

A string of broken sobs erupted from your lungs as you crouched forward.

“I can’t wear them! I can’t wear them!”

Your fist banged the ground.

“They turn me ugly!”

Bang

“They make me weak!”

Bang

“They make me defective!”

Right before your fist was about to make contact with the floor again, a large hand wrapped around your wrist and forcefully pulled you up to your feet.

You yelped in pain, but another hand covered your mouth.

“Listen here, girl. You have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. You got it pretty good, ya know. Look at your skin, not a blemish or scratch to be seen anywhere. Ya got pathetic men from all over the district wantin’ you every night. You’re a lucky one. And I’m gettin’ tired of your pathetic blubbering. Now.

As you struggled and grabbed at the arm that had your face in a vice grip, you felt something be forcefully slipped onto your face.

“Look at me.”

He let you go, causing you to tumble to the floor.

The second you opened your eyes, you gasped at the clarity of the room. Your eyes strained against the corrective properties of your lenses, having not been used to them after so many years of not wearing them.

Then, your gaze snapped to the man… no… thing towering above you. The crystal clear visage of his sickly body froze you in your place.

It all became clear to you now. His strength, his glowing eyes, his hair color…

He was a demon.

A demon here to eat you, no less.

You hadn’t realized he was talking to you until he spread his arms out wide, scowl evident on his face.

“… what? Got nothin’ to say?! What’s the matter, stupid girl?! Worm!”

You couldn’t pinpoint what exactly you were feeling in that moment, but it wasn’t fear. Something in his mannerisms, his tone, you just couldn’t detect the malice from before. He was frustrated, now. It was as though he was repeating lines from somewhere.

The only thing running through your mind…

Was that this was the most beautiful creature you have ever seen.

Perhaps it was the first clear image of someone you’d witnessed in four years, or the adrenaline high you were coming down from, or maybe just pure survival instinct, but you couldn’t help but just… stare.

You’d expected to be terrified of demons. And maybe you should be running as fast as you can right now.

He crouched in front of you with that angry scowl of his, now balling a handful of your hair in his hand and bringing his face right up to yours.

“Go on, wench. Tell me how ugly you are now. Tell me how defective you are now. TELL ME!”

He snapped, but you didn’t flinch away. You just stared into his eyes with your wide, glassy ones.

Then, before you even processed what you were doing, you brought a hand to his face and brushed a finger over the largest black splotch that ran over his cheeks and nose.

He felt time stop at your touch, his face falling into a confused frown.

“I see you.”

Your gentle voice, now free of fear and trauma, talked through him. His eyes widened.

Now it was his turn to shiver.

Letting go of your hair, he shot to his feet, a foreign surge of emotion jolting his spite and spreading throughout his chest and throat.

Not a trace of fear showed itself on your features like he’d expected it too. No. It was almost as though you were… liking what you were looking at.

Endearment if you will.

Before you could stop him, he bolted out of your room, now overloaded with conflicting feelings and no one to take it out on. He certainly wasn’t going to take them out on you. He needed to understand your mysteries. He needed to prove that no one on this planet was just naturally inclined to look at him like that. The world was cruel, and he deserves to take from it for how it’s treated him…

You’re just a common whore. You’re just like everyone else. He’ll prove it.

At least… that’s what he tells himself.

…

Headcannon time!!! Do with your little origin story what you will, now it’s time to skip to the fluffy stuff.

You still refuse to wear your lenses most of time.

Once you’d tell Gyutaro about your past trauma (probably after he’d start courting you), he’d understand, but would insist that you let him guide you around.

You’d become frustrated that he would demand such a thing, claiming that you’d managed all these years without his assistance, but the moment you saw his downtrodden face you quickly relented.

He didn’t know it himself, but Gyutaro’s urge to protect his sister from the world was also extending to you.

Once you’d discover that the Oiran was actually Gyutaro’s sister, you’d still be cautious around her, but now there was a sense of familiarity with her.

Daki would find out about your poor vision through her brother very quickly. She’d be confused and a little angry that Gyutaro would waste so much time on you but would relent to his desire for you. After all, he gets what he wants and vice versa.

She’ll behave and treat you like an acquaintance, but nothing more.

You never expected to fall for a demon. Hell, you were still kind of skeptical about their existence until Gyutaro came into your life. And yet you managed to catch the heart of one of the most dangerous demons in existence. All through just… seeing him.

Gyutaro is the only being in existence that you’d ever put your lenses on for.

On lonely, rainy nights in particular, when you miss him the most, you have your lenses ready at your side for when he comes to visit. And when you hear his faint “hello, sweetheart,” you excitedly slip your lenses on just to see him.

Gyutaro had to admit, he’d grown to love the look of you with your lenses on. The way your face lights up when you can truly see him gives him just the right rush of emotions to smile. Not a creepy, malicious smile. A genuine, happy grin.

[xiuriii]

m&m.

1:27 am

the cold air was blowing through milia's hair. walking around and eventually coming to a stop, arms crossed and leaned forward. her white winter coat she'd gotten as a silly gift from her friends, they found it ridiculous that she lived in the Philippines yet always felt cold. taking a hit from her marlboro gold, she watched the city. quiet and asleep. the small town really lived up to it's name, and there, emilia felt the smallest. she wanted to leave, she wanted to go somewhere big and loud, bordering boisterous. she never felt right in this town, yet she knew deep inside she could never leave. deep inside her fast beating and warm heart, she loved this place. the way it could rain and shine at the same day, the way the road smelled after the rain, the way she knew every corner of the place, and how much she'd learned. her first steps, her first day at elementary school, her first time riding a jeep, her junior and senior high years, and the heartbreak and happiness she lived through in those very streets.

it all seems strange, that soon she'll be far, far from everything and everyone she'd known her all life, and only return when she needs laundry done or during the holidays. the universe had blessed her with all the blessings she could have, yet the love she was ready to receive and reciprocate only fed off her and her disgustingly romantic fantasies. but the universe had a way of playing things out.

it wasnt unfamiliar to milia, love that is. she loved and received love, yet none were successful, staying merely as attempts or ended as astronomical bombs that exploded right in her face. but ut changed when milia met mark.

mark. mark lee. the sweet guy with the glasses, nerdy, had messy hair and always stayed optimistic even in situations where everybody was ready to give up. the guy who only recently got his braces removed (everyone only started noticing his charm after) the guy whose smile created the prettiest dimples, the guy who had a mole sitting perfectly on his left cheek and neck. it was one of her favorite things about him. she always played with his moles, connecting them and calling them constellations of his own.

funny, milia thought. mark had his moles and milia. well, not literally the skin condition, but her. milia was common, harmless, small, and could leave on its own. just like the girl. she'd only realized her nickname was a skin thing a year ago after her friends had fooled around google, looking up anything they could think of. emilia was a normal girl, harmless, felt small, and could leave anything she wanted to and run, but without emilia, something doesn't feel right anymore, like something that had always been there had gone and it'll never be the same. just like milia.

she didnt want to leave the town because it would feel so real, that she was leaving behind her treasured memories and that boy from the neighboring school with that stupid mole she'll never forget. there she wondered, clouds of smoke surrounding her, if anyone would notice if she just ran away and never returned.

across town, mark was laying on his bed, feet up against the wall. his record player humming softly to the album he put on. senior year, graduation is two weeks away, and he was scared. scared that he didn't have an exact plan and routine during his upcoming university days, scared that he'll never catch up on school work and never make friends like he did in this small town that had 7/11 closing down at 8 o'clock. he's also scared that he would lose himself and the people he most loved to the distance. mark loved the quiet town and preferred it that way, and he wondered how exactly he would be like and feel like in the big city.

mark wanted nothing else than to graduate college and live the life he'd always wanted, flying around the world with his camera and only staying home for the architectural work he studied for, and to share this life with someone. at the moment, emilia was all mark could think about. sharing that life with milia with their two sons, a daughter, and a golden retriever in some rich neighborhood in the very town they were in. he loved the girl so much, he liked blinking to see your face on his mind, he started eating right and sleeping right, in hopes to see her in his dreams.

for now, they waited for each other. the party was over in two weeks and the real world was coming, but the couldn't bring themselves to worry, yet at the same time couldn't bring themselves to swallow the fact that the future could fuck things up soon, force them apart and ruin all they worked for. but through it all, they realized pessimism wasn't their style. so what if everyone and the universe pulls them apart? what matters most is that they saw each other through all the bullshit life has thrown their way, and that once upon a time, they were two teenagers who wanted nothing more than each other and made each other shine. moles and milia. marks on our bodies that some hate, yet for some it's their defining characteristic, something that makes us shine. they come and go like people do, but there are those that stick forever.

here's to hoping that one day, someone'll be the mole that sticks.

[youngestrunningleek]

Urchin and the Raven War

I’m running out of things to say about returning to Mistmantle…

You know the drill, by now. This post is reviewing The Mistmantle Chronicles, Book Four: Urchin and the Raven War. It was published in 2008, written by M. I. McAllister and illustrated by Omar Rayyan.

You also know the deal about spoilers. There will be spoilers, as well as discussion of violence and death.

This book jumps forward in time a significant amount (although it doesn’t specify how much). Urchin is fully grown, and Princess Catkin (who was a baby last book) is up and around. She is talking, making decisions, and fed up with boring island life. When swans from Swan Isle come for help, the animals of Mistmantle go to their rescue. Doing that, though, draws the anger of a flock of ravens and Mistmantle is put under siege.

I’ll confess I was pretty anxious about this book. Last one was especially good, worthy of being an ending to the whole series. Luckily, book four delivered. I love that every book has very distinct tension. There’s usually a mix of threats from outside and inside the community.

It’s hard to say if the books are getting better, or if I’m just growing fonder of the series. I’m far from objective at this point. But that’s also a major testament to McAllister’s skill. She makes a world, and characters, that really draw readers in. I think Rayyan’s illustrations continue to improve, too. This is an archetype of the genre. This is what animal fantasy for children should be.

What could be better than a generational story with an ensemble cast? It’s very special to see characters mature and grow in responsibilities. The books were published at a rate of about one per year (which is remarkable) and I’m curious how people who actually grew up with this series felt about seeing characters go from children to being adults. The characters certainly grow up faster than the readers.

I really think that, finally, we got a Mistmantle book without a boring early bit. The other consistent problem, of too many characters, is also slightly improved. I think it helps to have characters who are swans and ravens.

This book has swans shown in a more sympathetic light, after they were kind of empty-headed in the first book and they didn’t even talk in the second. The ravens are pretty flatly dehumanized, though. It’s a common trope with nonhuman protagonists to have another species be monstrous. “Maybe rats and mice are okay, but owls and snakes are even worse!”

One character, Corr, is a young otter who’s searching for adventure. I find his journey interesting because he lives on his own for a while, after leaving home. It makes me wonder— what would society be like, if we could easily go off into nature and live without other people? If a human wants to try being self-sufficient, they’d need a lot of distance from other people, plus clothing, shelter, tools, and training to boot. But couldn’t Corr just hunt fish to feed himself?

Later, the otter Fingal kisses a squirrel on the cheeks because he promised he’d kiss whoever killed the raven prince. That’s the closest the books have gotten to addressing inter-species relationships.

Speaking of… At one point, a healer is urging Urchin to stay alive.

“Stay, Urchin,” she said. “Stay with me. Stay for Mistmantle. Stay for Crispin, for Juniper, for Needle, for all of us. Think of—” Is he in love with anyone? Take a guess. Stay for Sepia. Stay for your friends.”

That cracked me up. And, it made me realize how light on romance the books are. Almost all of it happens offscreen. Usually, we have a couple and then timeskip to them being parents. The most interesting relationships are platonic. I like that.

One thing I admire about this series is the treatment of violence. In the first book, a mole assassinates someone and then is killed himself. This book brings back his brother, seeking vengeance. That made me realize, violence is essentially never the answer in these books. It just begets more violence.

Ultimately, Mistmantle defeats most of the ravens with sticky nets. Plus, leadership struggles make the ravens fight each other.

At the end, even though the Mistmantle animals cut down the surviving ravens, they’re so badly injured that they die within minutes. That detail was so unbelievably convenient that I had to laugh.

Now for some worldbuilding. This book finally made Threadings merit the capital T, in my opinion. We meet a hedgehog who occasionally, unintentionally, includes the future when she’s making the tapestries that tell Mistmantle’s history. It’s pretty cool to imagine someone accidentally including the future in a historical document. Preemptive history.

There’s another kind of prophecy with the Silver Prince. He’s a kind of messiah for the ravens. They used to rule Swan Isle, but after they were defeated they promised never to return unless they had a Silver Prince to lead them. The swans agreed because silver ravens are rare, and only female.

I was wondering if I’d be able to claim him as a trans icon, but it seems like he’s just a grey raven who they got overly excited about. (You can still headcanon him as trans tho.)

Aah, these books make me happy.

I would love to hear any opinions about this series, especially if you read it when you were young!

My personal rating: 4.5 My overall rating: 4

[dardar-commissions]

Do you write NS/FW headcannons? PLEASE, make some about odasaku

I haven't made headcannons in a while. But I have some ideas that would go really well with him 🙌

⚠️ NSFW warning.

Odasaku is a very tantric person. He went from making war to making love. And we're not just talking about all that emotional and attitudinal change... When Sakunosuke met you, the first thing he did besides introducing himself was to show great interest in your thoughts. Every word you told him was something he took into account to draw his personal conclusions, but always leaving space in case he makes a mistake and judges badly.

Until the question came out in the middle of the night: "Are you in a relationship?"

He is a man who is not afraid to accept that there are things that he may need to share with someone else. But when the answer to the question was negative, inside him there was nothing but peace and joy at having a clear path.

Sakunosuke returned you to your place as part of his chivalry, and you, invited him in as part of your curious nature. The kisses had been soft and timid at first, but within seconds they were erratic and disastrous, with hands tugging at clothes, stifled sighs, and tongues dancing beautifully together. The taste of tobacco is a plus to the addiction of his presence, the cheap perfume he uses seems the most exquisite thing in the world just because it is stuck to the redhead's tanned skin.

"Oh, God..." It was all you added to the air when the weight of his body pinned you close to the wall. Against your lower back you can feel the belt buckle scraping against your skin, and above the start of your buttocks, you can notice another bulge that sticks and rubs needily.

The first night, Odasaku made sure to kiss every mole he found on your body, his satisfaction depending on how hard your thighs squeezed for him.

And it is a surprise for both of them to see that their libido was highly present. Maybe it's the years of abstinence, according to you. For Odasaku, it was about how excited he gets by talking to you intelligently and deeply.

Maybe there will be a sequel...