#a curse at the hands of others is injustice no doubt

[softbean]

everything she deserves 🌼

[pseudowho]

The Silent Stars Go By

On the night of October 31st, Nanami Kento feels his death approaching. Knowing you are on the battlefield with him, and knowing he cannot die without showing you how he feels, he seeks you out...and subverts destiny.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, "last night on Earth" smut, truly desperate, frantic, semi-public, Shibuya ending rewrite

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento knew he was to die, on October 31st.

He was no arithmancer. A pragmatist at heart with a mathematical streak, he had, however, carried his barely living friend to safety, found the bodies of many others, punched a young man to death, and lived to tell the tale. The numbers divined great danger ahead, and, by the time a pink-feathered songbird had sung the perish song of Satoru Gojo, Kento could not deny the maths.

Kento could suddenly see no distant future for himself, as he once could. And yet between then, and now, there was one stark similarity; what future Nanami Kento did see, contained only you.

Behind his eyes flashed a montage of memory-- of midnight laughter-filled dinners at the Konbi. Of shielding you in battle, and you shielding him in return. Of you sitting on his lap, stitching his wounds with utmost care, before your reverse-cursed technique had fully developed. Of falling in love with you, and denying himself joy for believing he may give you none.

Being around you was agony. Being away from you was worse.

"I'll be heading underground," he had intoned to Nitta and Nobara, taking in their girlish features for the last time with a stab through his belly, "after I catch up with someone. Stay safe. Don't sacrifice yourself."

He was a hypocrite. He knew this. He would walk to the gallows, proud, if only he could take you in his arms and cry his love for you, first.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Looking out over the city, having heard Yuuji's cries for 'Nanamin' only a few minutes earlier, you did not know you were being desperately searched for by Kento. You had determined yourself to find and follow Yuuji, the boy without protection.

The night breeze whipped at you, unhindered by walls and trees, on the roof of one of Shibuya's tallest buildings. Turning to leave, you felt a familiar warmth approaching. The man you loved opened the stairwell door, squeaking on its pivot.

Missing his suit jacket and tie, with his sleeves rolled up, he thrummed with raw, uncontained power. Something feverish stormed within his eyes as he looked to you. His steps were slow, and considered. The quiet calm of his voice was deliberate, soft.

"Kento, what...what are you doing here? Is that blood? Oh god, you're bleeding-- let me heal you--"

"Stop. It isn't mine. Just listen for a moment."

"Isn't yours? Then one of the others? We should get them to Shoko--"

"--I need you to listen, now--"

"--we haven't got any time--"

"I love you." The air fell still; a puff of blossom in suspended animation. You had not realised you were holding your breath until Kento's steps caught up to you, and his hands grasped yours. A melancholic certainty rolled off him. Flicks of blond fell over his forehead, that fervour still gripping him; gripping you.

"I love you. You are the purest truth I know. The warmest light. Anything I am, and anything I could have been, is at your mercy, and always has been."

The gut-churning adrenaline you had felt for the fever-pitch of battle was suppressible, before Kento's impassioned promise. That dam broke inside you, and the terror and adoration and injustice heaved out of you in one great sob. You needed his body flush to yours. Public decency took a back seat. So many years of restraint and doubt slid away.

You looped your arms around Kento's neck, one hand grasping his shoulders, and the other sinking into the back of his hair. Kento almost broke, himself, but couldn't; not yet. He had to show you. Needed to show you.

You felt him pull your head away from his shoulder, and you resisted, until his fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head. You were nose to nose. You could feel his heart booming in his chest, fresh from a fight you had not witnessed.

"If this is my last chance," Kento whispered, his nose stroking yours, "will you let me take it?"

"...what...what do you know...that I don't? Kento--"

"Please." Kento growled, his teeth gritted. You felt the twitching contractions of his belly, his hardening cock pressing against you. You couldn't resist his need to control this, and take what he needed, even if you wanted to. Your breaths ached in your chest. Silent, glossy-eyed, you nodded.

Kento broke, possessing your lips in one shuddering kiss. His hands and body squeezed at your softly yielding hips, all-consuming, trying to overfill himself with any scrap of you he could take. He dominated the kiss completely, selflessly, as thoughtlessly altruistic as he had always been. He groaned, panting through the taste of you, his tongue sliding against yours. His cock wept inside his boxers-- it was all too much too much but not enough--

You mewled, little hands gripping onto his collar, sending thunder to Kento's core. Kento pulled away, cursing, feeling the need to know the scars that pleasure etched upon your skin. You were scorched by his touch, too pliable now to do anything but bend to his insistence.

In blood and brutality you sought each other, beacons in the night with stars as your witness. They looked on, disinterested, as if fate held any regard for the lives of mortals, over gods.

With time as his final remaining enemy, Kento pulled you to his lap, sitting with his back against the low wall overlooking the city. He knew for whom the bell tolled. He would see his duty done before the final chime, and he stared into you in your entirety. Though neither a painting nor an ivory box, he handled you with kid gloves.

You straddled his lap, unbuttoning his shirt, and he whispered, groaning and bucking up against your clothed sex as he watched your nimble fingers press his opened shirt apart. Running your hands in reverence down his bared chest and belly, he could not have loved you more than when he saw his own desperation reflected back at him.

In another life-- in any other world-- I--

He lifted you, enough for you to kick your jeans and underwear off, his teeth bared to feel your core press against his aching cock. He spoke through your kisses, a fractured sentence punctuated by his apologies.

"I didn't-- didn't prepare-- no protection-- I can't-- can't stop-- please don't make me stop." He begged, reaching down to hook his cock out. You silenced him with one hand wrapped around his rigid length, and Kento stilled with a hiss.

--take you to dinner first, I'd show you the world-- fill you with its beauty before I fill you with mine--

"Don't care--" You insisted against his neck, "--don't care...need to feel you." Kento almost sobbed with relief to feel you hold him, stroking the head of his cock between your glistening folds. You let his cockhead and slit catch over your clit, shivering, intoxicated by the way he watched you with one hand splayed across your belly, the other on your hip, and blown pupils. He bucked his hips, needy, full of baleful possession.

--and we'd have a Victorian glasshouse with a garden you'd love-- and you'd plant wildflowers while I do the laundry--

Grasping your hips with a snarl as you stroked his cockhead down, Kento impaled you downwards onto him, the moment his cock notched at your entrance. You squeaked, pussy clenching with the sudden blissful invasion, your squirming making you sink lower. Kento felt a telltale throb of impending orgasm in his belly, and he was certain if you clenched one more time--

Your pussy full to the brim, you instinctively bucked downwards. Feeling Kento belly-deep, his trembling fingers dropped to your clit, and you felt Kento's abs twitching beneath your splayed hands. Feeling two clever fingers bracketing your clit and rolling from side to side, you squeezed him, milking his cock and locking him inside you.

--all the late nights and early mornings and train rides and arguments in sickness and health for richer for poorer--

"--love you-- I love you too." You sobbed into his chest, loose and warm against him. Kento saw stars, coming with a shout, thick ropes of cum spurting into you. Looking up at the euphoric agony on his face, and his fingertips bruising your ass as they pinned you down around him, satisfied you spiritually, in a way so alien to you.

You rolled your hips, drinking down every part of him. The long, powerful contractions of his cock inside you, his stilted low moans, his gasps of pleasure as your tight gloved heat continued to stroke him. Starved for him, desperate for more, you rode Kento to frantic overstimulation.

--so unfair this is so unfair, die for you like you'd die for me like I'd die for you like you'd die for me--

You realised with a happy squirm that he hadn't yet removed his glasses or harness. With his shirt trapped against his shoulders, and his lens steamed, fucking upwards and thrashing his head from side to side beneath you, you couldn't stop yourself. You felt the fullness of his creamy load still plugged deeply inside you, and pushed hard against him. Kento cursed, paralyzing you with a hushed roar of agony, and a hand grasping your throat.

"--asked you to make love to me-- not kill me-- but shit, if this is how we go, just take me with you-- take me with you--"

His fingers had never left your clit, now rolling it insistently, until you were the one wriggling and desperate. Still being stuffed with his cock and cum made your pleasure three-dimensional, and Kento's half-hard length began to stir to life again, still high off the adrenaline of punching a man to death. He growled at you with gritted teeth.

"--beautiful...good girl...not done with you yet...shit, keep it in, keep it all in...take me with you...please--"

With half lidded eyes, you grasped Kento's forearm. His hand still braced you with exquisite tenderness around the throat, a necklace instead of a noose. His second hand worked frantically against your clit while you moaned and begged above him, still speared on his cock, feeling him lengthen and thicken again inside you. You whimpered and keened, and Kento committed you to memory, just like this. He would close his eyes in his final moment, and see you, breaking like spun sugar above him, no sweeter sound than his name on your lips.

--bake for you on Sundays, and the bread would always burn, because we'll be too busy--

Kento continued stroking you, pressing kisses onto your forehead as he guided you down from your high. Cautiously starting to roll his hips up again, he moaned at the slick sucks of his cock sliding through his cum and yours. Unthreading his shirt through his harness, Kento threw it to the ground, before lying you down on top of it.

Otherwise fully dressed, with dried stains of blood rusted over his chest and back, Kento bore over you like a vengeful god. Here to take his spoils, he still handled you like glass, resting your head on one of his planted forearms, with a hand under the small of your back to protect you from the floor.

"...I've wanted you for so long-- you don't even know--"

"I knew." Kento faltered. His anguish at leaving you for certain death sharpened, with the sudden knowledge of past chances untaken. His heart clenched, aching down his arms, steeling himself. He couldn't help but lean into your hand, cupping his jaw.

Nuzzling his nose to yours, Kento melted at your smile twinkling up at him. He smiled back, suddenly bashful, lopsided with crinkling eyes, before biting down on one lip and slamming his cock down into you. Your gasp shook through you, clawing into the harness across his chest and shoulders, hearing Kento swear with pleasure at the intensity of a second round.

Kento barely pulled out, wrapped in your arms and tight cunt. He almost spat with anger at the simultaneous need to savour you, and the need to leave, knowing he could not have both. Duty to you held the greater weight and, feeling another orgasm creep through his back and balls far too quickly, he slowed.

Completely engulfed by the enormity of him, you stared up at Kento, made submissive under his emotional insistence, the thick aching stretch of him sheathed inside you. Your back arched off the ground with a guttural moan when Kento slowed, dragging himself through your core from ball to tip in long, languid thrusts, the whole length of his cock glistening with gluey white seed.

He swore he could feel every ridge of you, the mind-altering bend of his cock as it moulded to the curve inside you. He needed you to carry the shape of him forever, an unremovable flesh-memory. Something had changed in him as you carded your fingers through his hair, whispering praises to him, to try to hold him together.

Kento looked drunk. His eyes were distant and hyperfocused all at once, his breaths and groans gruff, his voice gravelly with emotion as his mouth muffled against your shirt.

"--sorry, I...can't move my hands...hurt you, I--" Kento grasped your shirt between his teeth, ragging his head from side to side with a growl to lift it up over your breasts. He did the same to your bra, gripping the cups to yank your breasts free. They bounced out, full and peaked under his hot, frantic breaths.

Kento nosed at them, pulling his cock from you slowly, only to slam back into you with enough force to leave you writhing and whimpering. His mouth and nose played with your breasts, nudging, sucking and biting, hungry and obsessive. Something primal glimmered in his green glass-concealed eyes, as your mounds jiggled every time he fucked into you. The visual stimulus of you spread beneath him, your tight pussy slick with his cum, doe-eyed and completely willing, sent him spiralling towards his high.

"God I wish I--wish I could stay-- more than anything...cum with me, please please please--"

His thrusts became frantic, rough and sloppy with no warning. Kento's eyes darted from your face, to your breasts and pussy, and back again, drinking in the shock and ecstasy plastered over your face. You were trapped within the humid embrace of him, erotically overstimulated by his smell, his desperation, the constant stroke of his weeping cockhead against your spongy soft spot.

You didn't realise how close you were to orgasm until his position shifted, his trimmed honey-gold trail now rubbing against your clit. Clinging onto him, and rubbing upwards to meet his thrusts, you begged for Kento to help you. Your begging was Kento's last straw, and he gasped, his seed slugging out in lazy, creamy trickles against your overstuffed cervix and pussy.

Barely able to see straight, Kento kept rubbing his rigid pelvis against you, gruff and messy while you felt the drag of pleasure through you, softer than bare feet through hot sand. Kento whispered to you, sweat mingling on your foreheads pressed together; "...don't regret a thing...won't regret a minute-- wish this was different...deserve more..."

Panting in each others embrace, the dreadful horror of reality seeped back into you both. You could hear cries in the distance, the rumble of battles. You fought an unwinnable fight. Silent, and pensive, you jolted out of your reverie to hear Kento groan above you, reluctantly pulling his softening cock free. He knelt, dewy-eyed, watching the gluey drip of his cum from you, moaning and shivering as he held his half-hard cock, nudging the cum back inside with his tip.

The sudden emptiness almost made you weep. You felt the same terrible foreboding emanating from him as you had when he arrived on the rooftop. Kento smiled down at you, heartfelt and reassuring, pressing a folded pocket handkerchief to you before pulling your underwear back on over it. He kissed you delicately, from toe to knee while you giggled, before planting one lazy kiss and nuzzle onto your belly. You grasped his head there, scratching gently at his scalp with your fingernails.

"Stay with me, Kento. Just stay." You pressed, knowing in your gut that his decision was already made. His sigh creaked the leather of his harness with broad, corded tugs of his shoulders.

"They need help, underground. I'm one of the few First Grades available. It's only right that I go down there."

Kento's words, as always, rang with decisive finality. Before you could begin to talk again, he interrupted you smoothly.

"You will not come with me."

"You can't stop me."

"Shoko needs you. Your reverse cursed technique is second only to hers, and she's in need of support. It's the proper thing to do."

You squirmed with guilt, knowing you would choose to let Shoko suffer over Kento. Kento glowered down at you, stern, as if he hadn't just fallen apart inside you. You swallowed, a coil of doubt inside your belly.

"...don't be a hero, Kento." Kento frowned as if he didn't understand, and you insisted. "Don't be a hero. Get yourself out first. I mean it." Kento hesitated, looking out over the city lights, the breeze ruffling his mussed hair. He pulled his shirt back on, threading it under his harness.

"...alright." He lied. He paused. You both stood, sticky with each others' cum cooling between your legs. Nuzzling nose to nose, it felt so surreal to have to toss aside post-coital softness, in exchange for the cold embrace of battle.

"Go to Shoko," Kento whispered against your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "and help her. Please. Do as I say."

"Promise you'll come back to me." You hushed into his kiss, beseeching him. He softened, deceptively reassuring, while hearing his clocktower chime.

"Always. I'm all yours. Always." Planting one lingering kiss to your forehead, you watched Kento's retreating back, his figure disappearing down the stairwell.

You wondered if you'd ever trust anyone other than Kento, over your own instincts.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Shoko was surprised to see you, her cigarette drooping as she raised her thick, dark eyebrows.

"Kento told me you wanted me." You insisted. Shoko shot Yaga one questioning look. Yaga shrugged, arms folded.

"We haven't spoken to Kento all evening." Shoko assured. You felt a flash of panicked rage in your gut, knowing he'd lied to you. Knowing he was taking himself to an unwinnable battle. You grabbed Shoko by the arm.

"Where are they? His team? Where is he?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento was bloodied, missing an arm of his shirt, his vision obscured by the incessant bleed of a head wound. Pushing out of Dagon's domain, he knew he was exhausted, already skirting his limit. He felt a monstrous wave of Cursed energy, so much deadlier than his own.

A volcano-headed Curse approached him, its hand outstretched and hovering over Kento's abdomen. Naobito and Maki already smouldered in agony, and Kento felt the sickening weight of failure in his chest He had only a moment to protect himself, and he may have coated his body in Cursed-energy in its entirety, had he not filled his death-sentenced mind with thoughts of you.

He expected fire and flames...and felt you. When he protected his right half, you had arrived at the edge of a knife blade, and protected his left. The volcano-headed Curse faltered, stepping back with a scowl.

Kento looked down at you, knelt at his side in a braced position. His clock stopped chiming, in a moment of twisted fates reserved previously for the gods alone. He considered that you were, perhaps, a goddess, and he may be your vassal. You looked up at him, bristling with rage, and Kento's heart swelled.

"I'll tell you off later. For now...we have a fight to finish."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

By the end of the night, Itadori Yuuji had gained a brother and retained a beloved father figure. Nanami Kento cast his eyes over Choso with a hum of resignation, considering he may have another boy to look after, too. The patch-faced curse who may have been his executioner in another life, met its end. He witnessed an old friend who was not an old friend, cast a battle royale over the length of Japan.

Gazing in mute horror over the devastation left behind, Kento felt a hand slip into his own. His ears flushed red. He cleared his throat.

"I'm-- I'm so sorry--"

You laughed, your hands over your face. Kento's eyes glimmered with mirth. He plaited his fingers in yours, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, mumbling against them.

"My hero."

[imagionationstation]

Today on the Mikey Is Not Abused news

Research shows that 78% of the “Poor Mikey” fanclub claims that Mikey is incapable of standing up for himself, whether that be because he fears further abuse, fears his brothers in general, suffers from intense depression, an abuse sort of conditioning, or *insert other incredulous views here* (Statistics may not be entirely accurate and should be used with caution).

Unfortunately for them, Mikey does knows how to stand up for himself and it has been shown that he can speak his mind to even the main abuser, Raphael, and walk away unscathed.

Astonishing claim, I know, but the facts prove themselves.

Mikey has brought up beliefs on several occasions, but his lack of awareness outside his own mind often disproves his own claims.

Years of leprechauns, cream cheese demons, and certainty in cupcake uprisings have worn down his brothers’ trust in his word on many different subjects. This is not his brothers ignoring him out of spite. This is merely because he has proven himself to be an unreliable source when it comes to reality.

His lack of interest in taking most battles and training sessions seriously grate on his brothers’ nerves and often lead them to doubt his prowess and abilities on the field. Mikey being the youngest and earning all of their must protect with life instincts doesn’t exactly help his case. He knowingly brings much of their wrath upon himself- with tauntings, and purposefully infuriating acts, and the constant reappearance of Dr. Prankenstein.

When Mikey doesn’t go gun-hoe or call Raph out for a whack on the head, it’s probably because he’s conscious enough to know he likely said/did something stupid, or because he purposefully did something annoying.

However, if he sees an injustice affect another by his brothers’ hand, he will be the first one to stand up and correct it.

Mikey is proven to be more likely to speak his mind when it comes to others around him getting retribution that he deems underserved.

IN FACT, a few of the only times fans actually see an aggressive argument/challenge poised to a brother is to Raphael, often in regards to his crass judgement.

Take Fourfold Trap as an example:

“I got the answer for you! Karai’s a lost cause!”

“Don’t say that, dude!”

Mikey shoves at Raph’s shoulder to make him face him and they both begin yelling/bickering/roughly gesturing. Mikey is in no way scared of how Raph will react to this and is immediate in getting physically aggressive and speaking his mind.

Not normally how someone who’s been abused all their life would act towards the main abuser, I think. Not convincing enough?

Well, The Curse of Savanti Romero is another:

In it, Renet is seen admitting to her mistake of letting Romero loose. Raph responds by immediately coming down on her for it, even though she understands and regrets her mistake.

Mikey has zero hesitations about jumping into the picture.

“You really are the worst time traveler ever! The worst!”

“Back off, bro! She needs our help!”

Psychology of most abusers would not point to this kind of situation going well. If this were the case- in no universe would Raphael have relented under his brother’s glare and stepped away, especially not after being shoved and yelled at in front of someone outside the family. That would be seen as a calling for punishment.

Moving away would be letting the abused assert dominance and think that they’ve gotten away with a win.

If this were really an abusive relationship, then Raphael would have had a far more violent reaction to his youngest brother butting in.

Instead, he growled, glared, and then relented. He could tell this was not an issue that could be further challenged. Mikey was standing his ground, intensely meeting his glare, and so Raph stepped away.

Now, have there been times where Mikey felt like he was left out or being ignored and that made him feel insecure?

Yes. Absolutely. Mikey Gets Shellacne is a prime example.

But, have the abusers, his older brothers, been made to share similar feelings of being unable to rely on their brothers at one time or another? Perhaps due to his direct or indirect actions? Why, yes.

Because, as hard as it is to believe, every person in that family has made mistakes when dealing with another family member. Relationships are hard. Not one person, or mutant, is perfect, and facing or accepting insecurities is always a fact of growing up.

Is this to say Mikey never stands up for himself?

No. Not even close.

Is it ever portrayed as something big and dramatic as a focal point of an episode? No. Because it doesn’t need to be.

If Mikey holding onto resentment and depression from how his brother abuse him was meant to be part of his character, it would have been a plot point in the episode where they’re literally in his brain. There would have been the slightest hint of something going on somewhere in that chaotic realm.

Instead, Mikey’s brain welcomed all of his brother with open arms.

And the true, inner Mikey runs ecstatically toward his brothers and into Leo’s open arms for snuggles, no more scared of his brothers inside his mind than outside of it.

The only time that he has thoughts of “my brothers are so mean to me I should run away” is the episode The Croaking, where he takes accountability and has the realization that his brothers aren’t the jerks that he thought they were when he ran off…

“Dude. Your brothers sound awesome.”

“Yeah. They are… Even after I trashed the house.”

Mikey doesn’t often react violently to his brother’s teasing because there’s not a reason too. He understands that his brother’s pick on him, but in reality, he picks on them too. It’s not a big enough deal to point out unless an evil planet is letting Angry Mikey consume all of his thoughts and then everything is terrible.

Mikey can stand up for himself. Mikey will always stand up for others.

And that brings this article to an end. Subscribe for more!

Next time, we’ll discuss why Parasitica May or May Not have a worse reputation than it truly deserves. Cowbunga!

[tossawary]

I'm reviewing episode transcripts from "Merlin" to build up my worldbuilding document (character list, mostly) and, a little ways into S2, I'm kind of feeling like the show is actually quite mean to Arthur as a character sometimes? S1 E14: "To Kill the King" is one of those episodes where I forget how badly it pissed me off until I run into it again.

Like, don't get me wrong, Arthur can be a bully, entitled, hotheaded, and reckless, but he's also at this point risked his own life to save people multiple times. Both individuals whose lives were "worth less" than his own (getting the Mortaeus flower for a poisoned Merlin, smuggling Mordred out of the city, protecting Ealdor from bandits) and also Camelot as a whole (fighting the plague-causing monster in the sewers, fighting the mam-eating griffin, drinking poison to lift the unicorn curse).

Arthur is giving me vibes of being both bored and frustrated (and probably not able to name those feelings or exactly why he has them) because he wants so badly to do good things, but he's not really sure how to go about it because (no one ever tells him anything, he almost NEVER knows what's really going on to make informed choices, and) he's also stuck under the thumb of his tyrannical father, who spends most of their scenes together berating Arthur for being too merciful, for not being dutiful enough, and/or not finding sorcerers for execution fast enough. When Arthur tries to be fair-minded and compassionate, Uther often essentially tells him that he's going to be a weak king with that attitude.

Arthur's pathways to betterment are limited, his parent and role model and boss here is an AWFUL person, but he's trying!

So, it's quite frustrating to get to this one episode where characters like Gaius (extremely biased, admittedly, clearly not an objective individual) are saying things like: "Arthur's not ready. The responsibility would be too great. Brave though he may be, he lacks experience, he lacks judgement."

Like, I don't know, Arthur may be only 21 and kind of a dipshit, but I personally think he'd still do a better job than the guy who tried to kill a kid (Mordred) just for existing a few episodes ago? Maybe? Gwen's father, who wasn't even a sorcerer or knowingly working with one, is dead explicitly because of Uther's awful laws. Did everyone in this episode forget that Uther tried to BURN GWEN ALIVE AT THE STAKE not that long ago (Episode 3)?

ARTHUR: "[Morgana]'s right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen."

UTHER: "You saw it for yourself. She used enchantments."

ARTHUR: "Yes, maybe. But to save her dying father, that doesn't make [Gwen] guilty of creating a plague. One's the act of, of kindness, of love, the other of evil. I don't believe evil's in this girl's heart."

UTHER: "I have witnessed what witchcraft can do. I have suffered at its hand. I cannot take that chance. If there is the slightest doubt about this girl, she must die or the whole kingdom may perish."

ARTHUR: "I understand that."

UTHER: "One day you may become King. Then you will understand. Such decisions must be made. There are dark forces that threaten this kingdom."

ARTHUR: "I know. Witchcraft is an evil, father. So is injustice. Yes, I am yet to be King, and I don't know what kind of king I will be, but I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I would wish to live in. It would be where the punishment fits the crime."

UTHER: "I fear you're right. She's played with fire, and sadly she must die by fire."

When the adult druid (Cerdan) accompanying Mordred is killed (Episode 8), Arthur objects afterwards! On his own! While Arthur is sometimes an active participant in Uther's tyranny and otherwise complicit, he's been told all of his life that magic is inherently evil and corrupting, he was raised by the very man spreading this hateful philosophy, he should probably hate magic more than anyone after Uther, and yet he still disagrees with Uther's methods and judgments. Even though Uther is apparently VERY willing to lock both his son (Episode 4) and his ward (Episode 8) in the dungeons for disagreeing with him and disobeying him!

ARTHUR: The Druid was only in Camelot to collect supplies. He meant no harm. Is it necessary to execute him?

UTHER: Absolutely necessary. Those who use magic cannot be tolerated.

ARTHUR: The Druids are a peaceful people.

UTHER: Given the chance, they would return magic to the kingdom. They preach peace, but conspire against me. We cannot appear weak.

ARTHUR: Showing mercy can be a sign of strength.

UTHER: Our enemies will not see it that way. We have a responsibility to protect this kingdom. Executing the Druid will send out a clear message. Find the boy. Search every inch of the city.

Obviously, running a kingdom is complicated! Uther apparently won Camelot by conquest and is in conflict with many of the neighboring kings, including Odin and Cenred, and likely has more of the respect of the local nobility than young Arthur does. Uther's death would create some instability! (Agravaine de Bois hasn't been created yet, but let's assume there are many other potential vultures.)

But the show generally isn't pushing that angle. This isn't really about smooth transitions of power. Personally, concerning Arthur's "lack of judgment", I do find his ready conviction that it is his duty to die for Camelot's honor if necessary (he says as much to Merlin explicitly before fighting Valiant in Episode 2, then again before fighting the Black Knight in Episode 9) more than a little concerning, but that doesn't seem to be angle pushed here either.

The show has characters (Merlin, Gwen, Gaius) suggesting that offing the King, who regularly kills innocent people whether they have magic or not, who has forbidden use of the tool that might have saved innocent people from Nimueh's plague or the wraith of Tristan de Bois, would be wrong! It would be murder and murder is bad! It would make (in the words of a grieving Gwen) her "just as bad" as him.

Even though Merlin has at this point already killed Aulfric and Sophia (Episode 7), as well as Mary Collins (Episode 1) because they were trying to kill Arthur. And arguably got an assist with Valiant (Episode 2). And will kill many more as the show goes on. This conversation with Kilgharrah in S1 E14 is in many ways so, so funny:

KILGHARRAH: Well, young warlock, what is it you come to ask of me?

MERLIN: I need your help.

KILGHARRAH: Of course you do, but this time, will you heed my words?

MERLIN: The sorcerer Tauren is plotting to kill the King. He's made an ally of Morgana. I don't know what to do!

KILGHARRAH: Do… nothing.

MERLIN: What do you mean? If I do nothing, Uther will die.

KILGHARRAH: Don't you want Uther dead? It is Uther that persecutes you and your kind, Merlin. It is Uther that murders the innocent…

MERLIN: But surely that doesn't make it right to kill him.

KILGHARRAH: Only if Uther dies can magic return to the land. Only if Uther dies will you be free, Merlin. Uther's reign is at an end. Let Arthur's reign begin. Fulfil your destiny!

[The dragon flies off.]

MERLIN: Wait! Where does it say my destiny includes murder?

KILGHARRAH: Free this land from tyranny, Merlin! Free us all!

I feel for Kilgharrah here. He was VERY straightforward. I don't know how he could have been clearer about this.

I won't say that Merlin's character writing doesn't make ANY sense here (I do think the character writing in this show is NOT amazingly consistent), because... he IS being influenced by Gaius, who is, unfortunately, a bootlicker and also probably extremely traumatized by all of the death he's seen (big contributor of the bootlicking) (also, apparently Gaius only becomes a "freeman" at the end of Episode 6, so there's that). And Merlin is also being heavily influenced by Arthur, who loves his father, despite everything. For Arthur's sake, if no one else's, Merlin will go out of his way to save Uther. Sure! That tracks!

Merlin spends a lot of time in this show protecting a terrible status quo under some assumption that Camelot will... somehow suddenly become better under Arthur? Instead of perhaps eventually just trusting Arthur and talking to him after their years of knowing each other? There are several, in-world reasons for this and I don't think they're all unrealistic! It's tense! It's thrilling sometimes!

(Though I am ultimately a little annoyed that Merlin's many secrets never really come out and get dealt with by the characters, because that would have been fun drama and some resolution to all the tension, even if the story did still end in death.)

There's some tasty tragedy in this silly show, in many ways. Merlin is confused and conflicted and scared and without clear guidance in many ways. Kilgharrah is mysterious and not at all reassuring. Gaius is complacent and (very reasonably) incredibly secretive. Merlin doesn't get to see many of the moments where Arthur speaks up for magical people and tries to talk Uther down. Morgana and Arthur are both stuck here in a "The hands that cradled you are covered in an unimaginable amount of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?" nightmare scenario. (There's also a sexist element where male characters like Gaius and Merlin won't let Morgana know about her own powers "for her own good" in a gaslight-y way that's fascinating to me in how it creates a villain.)

But, also, the compelling tragic elements here don't make certain episodes any less frustrating to watch in their execution. (I don't think villains being frustrating to watch or read necessarily makes them effective villains, especially when what I really find annoying here is the heroes' reactions to the villain. Uther has killed SO MANY PEOPLE! FOR NO REASON!) Especially when a lot of the overall results of this show often feel more accidental than purposeful. I do understand why the writers keep Uther around! He's a formidable antagonist to have looming all over the place and the actor is fun.

But OOF, I felt that "Do... Nothing".

Merlin! MERLIN! LISTEN TO THE SCARY DRAGON! MERLIN, REMEMBER THAT TIME UTHER TRIED TO BURN GWEN ALIVE??? JUST BECAUSE GWEN IS TOO NICE TO GO AFTER UTHER WITH A KNIFE AND TAKE REVENGE, IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY MEAN KILLING HIM MAKES YOU "JUST AS BAD"!!! MERLIN!!! YOU HAVE ALREADY MURDERED MULTIPLE PEOPLE WHO KILLED WAY LESS PEOPLE THAN UTHER!!!

In Episode 4, Morgana says to Uther: "You can't chain [Arthur] up every time he disagrees with you." This implies to me that Uther has had Arthur thrown in the dungeons before. In Episode 3, Arthur says to Morgana: "Father will slam us both in chains if he knew I'd endangered you," and maybe he wasn't at all joking with that? Arthur is rattling the bars of his cell here, apparently fairly ready to be aimed wherever Merlin points him, bucking against being aimed at innocents by his tyrant of a father.

But nooo, Gaius says Arthur is "not ready yet" because...??? He seems less hotheaded than Uther to me, honestly. Are his tax policies not up to par yet? You can hire a guy for that. Suggesting that Arthur would be in any way worse than His Majesty "Anyone Who Talks To A Sorcerer Gets Executed Even If They Didn't Know They Were A Sorcerer" feels quite mean to Arthur, really. I think he'd do alright, in comparison, Gaius who lies to the King every single day, but I suppose you sometimes want to be a loyal friend to good ol' King "Made Merlin Drink Poison That One Time And Wouldn't Let Anyone Go Get The Cure". Good for you. Bad for everyone else.

Like, I know, I know this show is not very deep. I like that all of the characters are flawed and fumble a lot! I even kind of enjoy that it ultimately ends in death with so many loose emotional threads. It is a weekly burst of fantasy nonsense that is not especially concerned with consistency in worldbuilding or characters from episode to episode. But the executive discrepancies here are, like the ones in "Star Wars", weirdly fascinating with all of the holes and wobbly bits it creates.

This show: "Yes, our hero has once again saved the tyrannical king who kills innocents! Preventing the oblivious prince from assuming the throne and trying to do better as he so clearly wants to do! Good work, Merlin, taking the high road (which involved murdering the rightfully angry people trying to kill the tyrannical king) again!"

Me, every time: "...I am genuinely not sure how the show wants us to interpret this. What did they think they were doing with this? Was this always meant to be a tragedy from the first season? Because personally, I'm getting some kind of tragedy from this."

[fairdale]

to william herondale, with love

you have two options when it comes about will.

you can choose to stay in the surface, to think of him as a sassy, sarcastic, superficial and selfish man who doesn't give a shit about anything nor anyone except for jem, who makes insensitive jokes and doesn't care if he hurts people.

or you can choose to know him. the little parts of him that make him wonderful, sweet, delicate and caring. and, oh, how much love will fill your heart when you realise how much he deserves to be loved.

and how much he craves it.

will is sarcastic, yes. he's funny, he pulls off jokes like it's nothing, he makes people laugh, he sings the demon pox song and makes everyone think he's a little crazy.

but he's also the kid who left his family too young because he thought he was cursed and he loved them too much.

he's also the kid who thought no one could ever love him anymore.

he's also the kid who felt terribly lonely after leaving his family.

he's also the kid who wanted jem to be his parabatai so badly he didn't care he was sick and that he would leave him too soon.

he's also the kid who didn't want people too close to him because he loved them and didn't want anything bad to happen to them. jem was different. it wasn't just because he was sick, it's because he was jem. because jem saw who he truly was when no one else did. his heart beat because jem's did as well.

he's also the man who loved to read. the man whose name will still be dancing in the walls of the library centuries later. the man who found a safe place between books.

he's also the man who was so in love with tessa he tried to break the curse after years of living like that, because his love was so pure, so deep, so real, he had to do something.

he's also the man who put his hands into the fire to save jem's yin fen, because he couldn't imagine a life without him. because he didn't want a life without him.

he's also the man who was desperately in love with tessa, but made himself scarce because he couldn't put his own happiness over tessa and jem's. because he saw how good they were to each other.

he's also the man who held jessamine in his arms when she died too young.

he's also the man who let jem go when he told him he didn't want to live like that anymore even though it would forever break him and he would take a part of his soul with him.

he's also the man who went to save tessa even when he felt his heart getting carved out of his chest when jem died.

he's also the man who learned how to have his sister next to him again, the man who went back to his parents even if he were terrified.

he's also the man who made sure tessa never doubted for a second that he was devoted to her.

he's also the man who travelled the world with her and wrote her letters to show his love.

he's also the man who made sure to love his children loudly, to tell them he was proud of them and that they weren't monsters.

he's also the man who fought against injustices in the clave.

he was also the man who died surrounded by his loved ones (because he was, in fact, so loved).

he was also the man watching jem and tessa's wedding dream since the other side of the river, being happy for them.

will was the man with a heart so big he didn't know what to do with all the love he held in it.

when someone asks me, but why do you love him so much? well, how can you not? how, when he tried to love so quietly but he was screaming, when he was trying not to care but he cared more than anyone.

will herondale was, is and forever will be the character i hold closest to my heart, the character who made me laugh, cry and love the most.

"he lies consistently. he always invents the story that will make him look the worst."

"but it was there, in the touch of his hand on her cheek, in the softness of his voice, in his eyes when he looked at her. it was the way she had always dreamed a boy would look at her. but she never dreamed up someone as beautiful as will, not in all her imaginings."

"all my life, since i came to the institute, you were the mirror of my soul. i saw the good in me in you. in your eyes alone i found grace. when you are gone from me, who will see me like that?"

"against his own will, almost, will felt himself understanding; he would have done anything, he thought, told any lie, taken any risk, to make tessa love him. he would have done— almost anything. he would not betray jem for it. that was the one thing he would not do."

"don’t you see, will? you’re a person like me. you are like me. you say the things i think but never say out loud. you read the books i read. you love the poetry i love. you make me laugh with your ridiculous songs and the way you see the truth of everything. "

"when she tilted her head up and brushed his lips with hers, he cupped her face in his hands. so many years, he thought, and each kiss was new as the break of day."

"wo men shi sheng si ji jiao," said will, and he saw jem’s eyes widen, fractionally, and the spark of amusement inside them. "go in peace, james carstairs."

"and in the shadows they’d whispered, reminding each other of the stories only they knew. of the girl who had hit over the head with a water jug the boy who had come to rescue her, and how he had fallen in love with her in that instant."

"she remembered when will had died, her agony, the long nights alone, reaching across the bed every morning when she woke up, for years expecting to find him there, and only slowly growing accustomed to the fact that side of the bed would always be empty."

"i don’t know how to live in the world as a shadowhunter without will. i don’t think I even want to. i am still a parabatai, but my other half is gone. if I were to go to some Institute and ask them to take me in, i would never forget that. i would never feel whole."

"i miss you. we miss you. someday, we'll all be together. not too soon, my angel tessa. i can wait."

...

"my name is herondale," the boy said cheerfully. "william herondale, but everyone calls me will."

[svtdarlingbby]

Only For You- MingyuxReader mafia!au Part 1

pairing: Mingyu x reader; featuring Seventeen and NCT genre: mafia au / gang au warnings: weapons (guns, knives), violence, blood, cursing, kidnapping word count: 2129

"You dumbass, how did you get hit too?" you groaned as you leaned against the hard wall, applying pressure to your left side, trying to ignore the new searing pain in your left arm.

"Shit..." cursed Mingyu as he stumbled into the ground, blood dampening his black dress pants.

It was the middle of the night, and you and Mingyu finally completed the weeks long mission you and your team of mafia had been planning. However, a quite severe miscalculation had been made.

You see, Jun, the spy of the plan assured you that there would likely only be two targets maximum.

"Trust me, I only ever saw these two discuss targeting Seungkwan. I'm pretty sure the others don't know about their plan" affirmed Jun.

However, just when you and Mingyu were about to put an end to the thugs who planned to assassinate the socialite Seungkwan you were hired to protect, you were suddenly met with not two but six unruly men.

You weren't scared by any means; you could fight a group of grown men somewhat efficiently. Plus you had Mingyu on your side. Mingyu didn't really seem like mafia material. He had this demeanor about him that you swore would be helpful if he were a famous celebrity of some sort. He had it all: looks, charisma, humor. However he was not stupid. He used his charms to his advantage, to appear inconspicuous to the untrained eye. Most people would never suspect Mingyu to be a professional assassin in the mafia.

And then there was you. Maybe you were just hardened by the world you were born into, but you knew you weren't like Mingyu. Sure, there was no doubt that you are good looking, beautiful even. But you'd describe yourself as a farce. You hated injustice, yet you were in the mafia. The mafia that mercilessly kills people. Your targets are by no means innocent people, yet there is a part of you that finds the irony of being a source of physical beauty that was wired to be so violent and deadly. And yet, that was your strength, the main reason why Seungcheol saw your potential when he found you killing a man who had harassed a schoolgirl earlier on the bus.

And that's why Jihoon, Seungcheol's right hand man, decided to pair you with Mingyu for this mission. Even if you could not see it, you and Mingyu were perfect for this plan.

The night went as planned, with you pretending to be Seungkwan's disgruntled ex who wanted him gone and Mingyu being your rich fake boyfriend who was willing to pay anything to see his competition gone. Sweet talking your way to the other gang, you and Mingyu eventually led two of them outside the venue. They introduced themselves as Jisung and Chenle. Presumably, these two were the assassins who wanted to negotiate pay and such.

As you walked outside the venue, Mingyu noticed one of the assassins looking at you. He could see the lust in Jisung's eyes, the way his eyes scanned every inch of your body as you moved along. Mingyu felt a pang of jealously. Sure you weren't his real girlfriend but he just couldn't help but feel that this assassin was disrespecting not only you but himself also.

"Let's keep heading toward the back," suggested Mingyu as he placed a hand on the small of your back.

You couldn't help but to subtly shudder at his action. Mingyu was just playing a part, you kept telling yourself. If he's supposed to be your boyfriend in this case, then he's got to act like it too.

The four of you eventually found yourselves in the dark behind the building of the venue. You guys began to negotiate pay but through it all you felt that one sleazy assassin's eyes wander your whole body. And he was very obvious about it. Mingyu once again picked up on this and instinctively drew you closer to him, allowing his larger frame to slightly shield you from Jisung's lustful gaze. Once a price was agreed upon, the plan would soon truly begin.

"Just let me get my checkbook out," said Mingyu as he reached a hand into his pocket.

Just as the assassins were anticipating to get rich, you sneak out from behind Mingyu and pull out your gun and shoot Jisung.

"What the fuck?!" exclaims Jisung as he fell backwards upon impact.

Part of you forgot you were dealing with trained assassins in the case, especially after being ogled at. The other assassin Chenle immediately pulled out his gun and fired it, the bullet grazing your side.

"Shit!" you interject, catching Mingyu's attention as he finishes the guy off effectively shooting him.

"Y/N! Are you hit?" Mingyu asks looking behind him.

"Yeah, but it's okay. It's not as bad as it looks the bullet only grazed me" you explained, taking a deep breath.

Just as you both thought you had finished the job, you were suddenly ambushed from both sides by four other men.

"We knew you two were too good to be true, right Jungwoo?" sneered one of the gang members.

"I see the princess isn't doing so great. Maybe we should let her prince feel some of her pain, right Yuta?" laughed another as he glared at Mingyu.

You and Mingyu huddled against one another, back to back, guns pointed.

"How did the rest come out?" you whispered.

"My guess is the other two might've been wearing a wire" hypothesized Mingyu as you felt him quiver ever so slightly.

The four thugs slowly began to creep toward the two of you making the standoff more concentrated. You felt more nervous by the second.

"Y/N. Run" whispered Mingyu.

"What?" you whispered in confusion.

"You heard me, run. I know you'll have a chance of escaping. You'll be able to tell the guys what happened. Hurry, you're already hurt," he hurriedly explained.

"I can't leave you, we are partners for a reason," you whispered as you stood your ground and leaned closer to him, feeling the blood from your side soak through your clothes and onto him.

"Y/N..." sighed Mingyu, the pain evident in his hushed voice.

"Follow my lead," you whispered as you suddenly dropped to the ground.

"Shit..." you groaned somewhat dramatically. Yes, the area where the bullet grazed you hurt like a bitch but maybe it could help you out of this situation.

"Y/N!" Mingyu exclaimed, seemingly following along.

"Aww, the princess can't handle a gunshot," mocked Jungwoo, "you'd be the perfect little-"

He was cut off when you shot the other thug Yuta next to him, effectively stunning him. Using this to your advantage, you shot one of the guys cornering Mingyu's side.

"Kun!"

Mingyu seemed to understand your distraction, and he pulled the gun on Jungwoo. There was only one guy left who kept his gun aimed and the two of you yet the fear was evident in his composure. You managed to get back onto your feet while still pointing the gun at him. Yet you felt the blood loss beginning to get to you as you stumbled upright.

"Who are you?" asked Mingyu, voice full of authority.

"H-haechan of NCT," said the thug timidly.

"You're not leaving here alive," said Mingyu coldly as he pulled the trigger. The man did the same, yet his gun was aimed at you last second.

You yelped in pain as the bullet made impact with your upper left arm.

"Y/N!" yelled Mingyu as he looked behind him. In this moment of distraction, Jisung from earlier used the last of his strength and jabbed Mingyu in the thigh with his hidden knife before falling to the ground in a heap. As he tried to breathe through the pain, he noticed you make your way closer to the building.

"You dumbass, how did you get hit too?" you groaned as you leaned against the hard wall, applying pressure to your left side, trying to ignore the new searing pain in your left arm.

"Shit..." cursed Mingyu as he stumbled into the ground, blood dampening his black dress pants.

"Mingyu, you're bleeding a lot," you said in horror as you noticed just how much blood Mingyu was losing despite not being shot like yourself.

"Must've hit an artery," he whimpered through the pain, trying to apply pressure to his thigh.

"Oh my god," was all you could say as you practically crawled toward Mingyu, your side and arm searing in pain. But that pain didn't matter in this moment. All you could think of was Mingyu.

"Y/N, forget about me. Use the strength that you have to run. Go alert one of the guys. I'll be okay," he managed to say through the pain as his vision began to blur.

"But, but, I don't wanna leave you!" you were losing your composure as the thought of Mingyu dying in this very moment haunted you.

"You'll save the both of us if you try to get help now! Listen, Y/N. Today was crazy, and to be honest, I don't know if I will actually make it," he hissed through the pain, "But I couldn't stand the thought of those gross assholes even looking at you. You're someone special to me Y/N, and I want to continue protecting you. So please, just go find one of the guys," he pleaded.

"Mingyu," you murmured, cupping his face with your hand as he melted into your embrace the more tired he became. Mingyu looked up at you, his eyes pleading you to stand up and get help. So you did as you were told, stumbling to your feet and trying to move as fast as you could despite your injuries.

You decided to stumble toward the parking lot; your getaway van would probably be there. Even though it was dark, you were hoping and praying one of the boys would see your unbalanced and injured form immediately. And that's when you saw the black van approaching you.

"Thank god, they found me," you sighed in relief as the van pulled up next to you.

The door to the van revealed a very different group of guys instead. And an ominous feeling made a place for itself as a pit in your stomach.

"Get her," said one of the men, who appeared to be the leader.

Before you knew it, you felt two pairs of arms grab you and shove you into their van.

All the while Mingyu continued to fight the urge to pass out, you were the only person on his mind. He couldn't tell how much time had passed, but he suddenly saw Minghao and Seokmin running toward him, bombarding him with questions he couldn't yet process. He felt his fellow gang members lift him off the ground and into the dark van that had shortly pulled up.

"Thank god Y/N found you," he mumbled as he leaned against Minghao.

"What? Y/N isn't here?" said Minghao as he placed Mingyu in a seat and began to address his wound.

Suddenly an overwhelming sense of dread overcame Mingyu. "She's not???" he felt himself begin to panic. Where had you gone?

"Calm down Mingyu, what happened?" said Wonwoo as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"Y/N- I told her- she's hurt! I told her to find you guys!" rambled Mingyu, his face painted with fear.

"Okay, we'll drive around the vicinity of this building and be on the lookout. Joshua, Hansol, and Soonyoung, look for Y/N inside the building" ordered Seungcheol calmly.

"Mingyu, you need to calm down," said Minghao as he continued to examine Mingyu's wound, "We'll find Y/N, just explain to me how you got hurt and what happened."

Mingyu took a deep breath and explained to the boys what happened. However, it was evident he believed something was severely wrong since he couldn't stop shaking as he recounted the night's events.

Meanwhile, you found yourself in an unfamiliar van clutched by unfamiliar arms as you stared at many unfamiliar men.

"Are you Y/N L/N?" asked the leader.

The pain in your arm and side only grew more severe, but it was pure adrenaline that managed to keep you alert in this situation.

"Answer me," he said, his cold eyes staring into your soul.

"Release me," you simply stated, maintaining eye contact.

"She's a back talker. Johnny?" asked the leader, gesturing to one of the men holding you.

This Johnny guy simply nodded and suddenly you felt a gun pressed to the side of your temple.

"So, are you going to cooperate with us then?" asked the leader, sneering at you.

Hiiii I'm back lol! Wrote something a little out of my comfort zone but its spooky season so hey why not! LMK what you think! I'll try to have part 2 uploaded soon!

[seytazen]

I love royalty AUs so much. I love them, but I swear I feel like there isn’t enough of them for transformers. This is a sneak peek into it:

It was beyond difficult to hide the cold dread and rage that had been building over the past few days. Alpha Trion had won, after all these orbital cycles. He’d found a way to dispose of Orion without inciting questions or doubt. He could say it’s for the good of Iacon. He could call it divine will. He could claim a million other things and they would believable. How he had taken these absurd circumstances and twisted them in his favor was a horrid work of art.

Ratchet didn’t understand. How can someone do something so cruel to their own child? How does a parent sell their son to a ruthless mech like Megatron? He supposed it didn’t matter. They had failed. He had failed. Orion was going to be sent away to be a warlord’s toy, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He pinned a proud, golden brooch to the front of his cloak, carefully straightening it. “There,” he said. “What do you think?”

Orion tilted his head, admiring it in the mirror. “It looks like the Matrix,” he said, tracing over the smooth, simplified shape. “Wasn’t this carrier’s?”

Ratchet nodded. “It was. Now, it’s yours.”

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to wear this?”

“I’m sure,” Ratchet replied with a small, bitter-sweet smile. “She wanted to wait until the next Prime was named, but I think it’s important for you to have a piece of her today.”

His optics shone brighter for a moment, pressing a hand against the pin and tracing its shape again. Ratchet felt his chest tighten. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all, but Primus, he couldn’t let this be taken away from Orion.

“Thank you,” he murmured, a wide smile breaking over his face. “It means more than I can express.”

Ironhide appeared in the open doorway, wearing his full uniform— decorated in various statuses and awards. He rested a hand on the holster of his blaster. “Yer Highness? It’s time,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” he responded. Orion’s servos twisted around themselves as he looked between Ratchet and him. “Um… I’ve just realized, there’s one more thing I need. I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll be outside,” the knight said with a brief bow.

“I wont be long,” Orion promised as Ironhide exited the room.

Ratchet opened his mouth to question what else he needed, but before he could ask, a pair of arms were thrown around him. His optics widened.

“Thank you,” Orion said softly. “For… For everything.”

Ratchet wrapped his arms around him, trying like the pit to hold himself together. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat as he pulled him closer into the embrace. He couldn’t imagine the consequences he would face if he were caught right now, touching Orion. A lowly indentured servant was a lowly indentured servant— even with a namesake like his. “A-Anytime.”

Slowly, Orion pulled away and stood up straight heading for the door.

“Orion?” Ratchet called out before he could stop himself.

“Yes?”

He bit his lip, cursing himself and his weakness. “You’ll make Iacon proud,” he said.

Orion gripped onto the door handle rightly, his audial finials twitching back. He chuckled. “I know I will,” he agreed, looking back at him with a smile. “You taught me how to.”

He sighed deeply as he disappeared down the hall, the door clicking shut.

In that moment, Ratchet’s spark had never burned with such rage and hatred before. It was unfair. Unfair was an understatement, but it was the only word he knew of that could describe even a small sliver of the injustice. Ironhide knew. So did Kup. He had told them, and they were all in agreement. Orion couldn’t know. It would shatter him. No, they couldn’t tell him. Not yet.

He ran a servo down his face, tears welling up in his optics. He had the urge to put his fist through the wall. That smile… Orion hadn’t smiled like that in a decacycle. He was the happiest he’d been in so long, and had no idea it wouldn’t last. He thought his sire’s intentions were genuine. He didn’t know the truth.

However selfish it was, Ratchet wished he hadn’t fostered such kindness in him. Such hope. Maybe it would have saved him from this pain…

He sat down heavily on the chaise and buried his face in his servos, a silent, shuddering sob escaping him. It was awful, pretending like he was happy for Orion, and feigning hope for him. Ratchet didn’t think it was right to keep him in the dark, but it was merciful. He cared for the young prince too much to let him experience this agony— this helplessness, just waiting to be sold to the mech who threatened to destroy their home. Ratchet didn’t want this dread and despair to torture him. It would only prolong his suffering. It would rob him of this fleeting moment in time where everything was okay. It would be cruel and pointless.

No one could save him from what was coming, but they could shield him. They could give him the one last comfort of blissful ignorance. It was a lie, a bitter one that tortured Ratchet, but it would grant Orion a handful of restful nights, and some time to be happy and hopeful.

Orion needed that. It was possible he’d never have it again.

[tavshortfortavern]

Tav x Durge brainrot (DurgeTav?)

If Dark Urge was a companion and could be romanced (haven't played origin yet but will go off based on canon Durge: white dragonborn male, sorcerer)

Enemies to Lovers trope

Villain has amnesia and remembers nothing but had such strong feelings (and obsession) to the hero they latch on to them upon meeting bc they "feel like they could trust them" trope

Foils to each other. Tav tried to reach out to Durge at the beginning when they first met, when he was a cult leader and they were a simple adventurer. Tav who saw a person in him and pulled out whatever was left of his humanity that was locked away bc of his father. Durge doing the opposite and seeking out the worst in Tav. Their selfishness, their bloodthirst in battle, their penchant for chaos and anger at injustices. They bring out these hidden sides to each other that they rather have had stayed secret and it fuels the hatred.

Both understanding each other on a level no one else has in their lives.

The shared history. The endless chase and hunt. Every time they faught seared into each other's memories that Durge gets flashes of in dreams while they have amnesia. The way they know each other's tells and can predict what the other can do next with scary good accuracy.

It translates to them being very good fighting together. This fact is discovered when in a party together early on in Act 1. They instinctively know how to work around each other and strategize a plan using each other's strengths. Tav takes the front and covers Durge from incoming enemies. Durge counterspelling any spells heading towards Tav and sniping range enemies from afar.

The moral dilemma Tav faces leaving the Bhaalspawn, chosen of Bhaal, leader of his cult and their worst enemy alive, existing in camp. Every night when he sleeps Tav stays awake deliberating that chance to finally end him. Bring justice for all the lives he's ruined and mutilated.

Tav is not like the rest of the companions. They KNOW what Durge has done. Seen it with their own eyes. It's irredeemable. It's vile. It's a tragedy. Hells Tav might have been hurt or tormented by Durge. Many times they could have been his victim. Old Durge wanted them dead for all the times they stood in his way, vowing to sacrifice them to his father at his temple.

Yet when they look upon the sleeping Durge in their bedroll his draconic face is frowning, squirming. Creating expressions they never thought he could make. He's experiencing a nightmare obviously and he looks agonized, terrified. Tav's bleeding heart takes over.

He doesn't remember what he's done. He would have no idea why he should be killed or punished. He's trying not to give in to the urges. He's trying to be better. That's what Tav sees over the course of the journey. It doesn't sooth all of the guilt and doubts they have, but it'll do.

Durge having no memory of anything, wandering around after the Nautiloid crash trying to peice together a memory, anything that could tell him his past. Trying not to give in to these horrible thoughts, having no clue where they come from or why he has them... Then they see a face. Them. Them. Them. It's t h e m. Who are they? He both does not recognize this new face but he feels like he knows them.

He sees their face. They see him. That expression on their face says it all. They know him. But that look in their eyes, the emotions. Alarm. Fear. Disgust. Anger. Many more unpleasant ones. He does not know why. He does not know why they brandish their weapon at him. Or why they curse his existence, claiming they won't let him escape alive this time. This time? They faught before?

Then the tadpoles kicks in. Tav realizes he has no memory. Whatever wrong he's done remains oblivious to him. This was the truth. Conflict clouds Tav's judgement. Can they really fight him now, when his hands are raised in surrender and pleading to talk instead. He's already acting different.

A temporary truce is struck. With the added condition that Tav would be watching him closely.

He tries to ask Tav of his past but they remain frustratingly vague. They were enemies. He's killed people, many people. Not much else but some part of him stops asking. Growing more afraid of the truth.

Tav is the only one who takes him seriously when he confesses his urges. Ties him up at night and prevents him from murdering anyone. He's grateful but Tav simply tells him they were only making sure he wouldn't take more lives. Coldly untying him in the mornings before leaving.

They soften around act 2. The rest of the companions know now of his urges. But Tav remains to be the one who guards him at night. This time the coldness in their tone is gone as they reassure him it'll be over soon. When he apologizes through gritted teeth, their eyes are softer.

Durge starts to remember more things. His self hate deepens when memories pertaining Tav resurfaces. They all involved him hurting them. Wanting to do terrible things. The loathing in past Tav's face. He distances himself from then. Feeling wretched.

Tav, who had been learning more about this new Durge, who looked wistful at children's games, who liked making puns and could joke, who was nice to people and wanted to help those in need, starts to soften around them. Thinks this could have been the real Durge all along were it not for his father's influence.

Idk

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten

January is long, and February, somehow even longer. It brings with it the kind of biting cold winds that make my face hurt and indignance rise inside me at the injustice of having to be outside in it. I try to manoeuvre my useless fingerless gloves over my knuckles as though they might provide even the tiniest bit of extra heat to my hands, but it’s already too late. I’ve let the cold invade, and by now there’s nothing I can do to prevent the cold spasms that rip through to my bones. 

It is five in the evening. I’ve been here since the morning, once Simon reluctantly allowed me to take a day of work away from the studio, but it’s been relentlessly cold since I arrived. The sun will set in an hour from now and I will lose the light, so I forge on anyway, tracing a careful line with the nozzle of the spray paint along the brick at the gable end of the bookshop that commissioned me. It is my first mural on a building, not a window, but nobody seemed to doubt my ability to do it when they approached me. Nobody except for me, and while I didn’t express it, I doubted it, and I still doubt it, even now. 

 I reach around at my feet for the cherry red paint can and rattle it before spraying a wide, confident arc across the brick. Does it look good? Does any of this look good? I’ve been nose to nose with it for so many hours now that I can hardly even tell what it is. The paint stains my finger tip red. Just about every inch of me must be dusted with paint at this point, as the wind has been blowing it back on me in clouds and leaving speckles all over my skin and clothes. I eye the streak of teal paint that has run down the side of my middle finger and dried there, and I silently curse at it, knowing how badly it will stain as I pull my vibrating phone from my pocket. 

Don’t suppose you’re free for a call tonight? 

I wish. I’m never free anymore. 

Sorry, I have a date at the medieval torture chamber. 

Gym with Shane?

Yep. 

And in those rare times that I am, Jude isn’t. We’ve been missing each other for weeks, like trains passing on the tracks, what with my work, the increase in commissions, more cards to design, I’ve been finding myself cooped up in the studio until late into the evening sometimes. And Jude, he’s working hard on his final projects. He spends as much time in his studio as I do. Sometimes the only meaningful correspondence I’ll get from him in a given week is a photograph of whatever modernist chunk of plaster or clay he’s working on lately, and this week is shaping up to be another just like that, only I’ll be the one sending some hasty close up of a few swipes of paint and trying to convince him that I’m getting paid to do this. 

We haven’t caught up in so long.

I like to imagine that he’s desperately sad about this fact, miserable and missing me terribly, when in fact he’s probably just bored at home again, Jonas likely out somewhere without him and whatever silly movie he’s put on the television has stopped being entertaining. 

At this rate I won’t see you until I come over.

Yeah, what the hell. How have we not spoken in over a month?

Probably because I hate you and I’m avoiding you. 😉 We’ll have a proper catch up in Berlin. 

He sends me a crocodile emoji, which has become our private code for “goodbye” as in, “See you later, alligator”. I type one back and get on with what I was doing, and paint another broad, sweeping line in that delicious cherry red paint. I last ten more minutes without an interruption, and there is a voice from behind me. 

“Well.”

I whirl around. “Ugh, hi Shane.”

“Delighted to see me, are you?”

“Honestly it’s a bit like a bad omen when you appear.”

I yank my protective mask from my mouth while he huffs out a laugh. “Ready for the gym?” I groan in protest, but I gather my things anyway, stacking all of the spray paint bottles into a giant canvas bag and rolling up the tarp. We stop by Mezzotint to store all of it in the studio and let me change out of my painty clothes in the employee bathroom and then we take the Luas into town to the gym. 

Shane decides to show me mercy, and lets me spend our session in the pool, so while he heads to the gym and does his usual routine, I swim lengths of the fast lane and keep strict count of the number so that I can brag about it when he comes to use the health suite. I reached a point suddenly, a month or two ago, where my lungs and limbs didn’t burn so badly during my swimming lessons, and in fact, despite the inevitable dread that the gym instils in me, once I’m actually in the pool I find myself enjoying it. I swim to the end, turn and come back, over and over as the smooth hands on the big clock rotate, and finally I anchor myself to the lip of the pool as Shane crouches in front of me, hair wet from the shower. 

“How many?” He wants to know. 

“Sixty lengths.”

“Many breaks?”

“None.”

He nods with approval and says “good stuff.” Which is the highest compliment available. I struggle out onto the tiles with trembling arms and follow him to the health suite sauna where we sit, ragged breaths, and the water that rolls off our bodies dissolves into mist as it drips onto the benches. 

“How’s college?” I say. 

“Grand.”

“Full on now, I’d say, is it? With the final exams kind of looming on the horizon a bit.”

He shrugs. “I dunno, I suppose so.” 

Shane did not fail his Christmas exams. He didn’t pass them with flying colours by any means but Shane being Shane, has never once done poorly at anything he has attempted. As far as I know he has never failed a test, and it’s evident by now that it’s not for lack of trying. The final exams are Claire’s newest worry, as she’s convinced he’s yet to open a single textbook. 

“And the football?” I venture, and watch as his shoulders slump. “It’s good, it’s busy and all. I dunno. I’ve a few things to kind of think about in terms of it. You know, like, some things to consider.”

I nod. “Must be tricky to balance it all, like what with the training and college and all. I can’t imagine how hard it is.”

He glances at me with a furrowed brow as though what I’ve just said has nothing to do with what he was talking about, but he throws me a consolatory “Yeah.” anyway, clearly not bothered to explain what he meant. 

“Pity you can’t come to Berlin.” I pivot. “It’d be nice if you were there, like, I know you’ve visited before and all, but I think it’ve been a fun friends thing to do altogether. Not often we all get to hang out now that we’re so busy.”

“Nice for Claire to have time away on her own though.” He says. “I think a bit of distance would do her good, a bit of space.” and I wonder if he means from Dublin or from him. 

“I’m a bit nervous to go.” I admit, which prompts him to look right at me for the first time since we came inside. “Why?”

“I’m not sure, I suppose it’s been years since I’ve been out of Ireland, like, been in a different country with a different language and… like, I dunno I suppose I’m nervous to be around Jude and all his friends.”

“They’re just more of the typical artist types, nothing to get that excited about.” He eyes me for a moment before adding “They’re not going to think you’re uncool, or whatever it is that you’re worrying about. Nobody cares about that type of thing except for you.”

“I don’t care if they think I’m uncool.” I lie defensively. 

“Right. So is it about Astrid then? Do you think she’s going to tear you a new one?”

I stare at him, startled. “What are you on about?”

“Astrid, like.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

He rolls his eyes and gets up, slinging his towel over his shoulder. “I’m sure you don’t, Evie, you fecking dope.” He says, and then pushes his way out into the cool air of the poolside. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[purplemninja]

Will Mono and Six meet up in your rewind au? If so how would that go down?

Thanks for the ask, but heads up that this will be a lengthy and salty post - TL;DR at the bottom. (Also it'll take a while to get to the answer to your second question ^_^')

No, Six and Mono will not be meeting each other in this AU. The only appearances Mono will be making in this AU is in flashbacks.

The main reason is because one of the mains I made this AU is to balance out the injustice that Hezu inflicted (and still does) on Six in her 'Channel Change' AU.

Disclaimer: Do NOT go witch-hunting Hezu.

Plus if you remember the midquel 'Finding Shelter', Six does remember Mono, but she also remembers that the Hunter would also be there if she went to look for him, so she decides not to seek Mono out.

Another reason is because ever since LN2 came out, the fandom has made just about everything to do with Six revolve around Mono. Like "Six got kidnapped! Poor Mono who had to see that, that must be very traumatic for him! Never-mind what trauma Six got; the person that was kidnapped"

And I said this in my hot takes post but I'll say it again here: The way the fandom treats Mono is exactly like how the FNAF books treat Henry - he's an angel and only his suffering matters, screw everyone else.

I don't want to add Mono because no doubt there will be people who will make Mono overshadow everyone else, Six most especially. When Six's suffering gets brought up, people are basically like "Mono had it worse, so Six's isn't a big deal, so she should shut up and suck it up", while Mono and his suffering are dealt with a gentle hand.

@noodleshark, I give you the floor again:

When I pointed out to Hezu that it's biased of her to talk about how Six ruined Mono's life and ended RK's (I refuse to call him 'seven') when they only tried to help her but said nothing about how Mono ruined Six's life by getting her kidnapped and cursed with the hunger that led to RK's death in the first place (as well as being the perpetrator (as Thin Man) of these things at the same time) and to the end of her innocence and humanity when she was just trying to help him too up until the end, but Hezu just swept that under the rug with "Mono couldn't have known that Thin Man was behind the door, so Six getting kidnapped and cursed with hunger was an accident", and therefore acts like the bad stuff happened to Six because of Mono magically goes away or isn't a big deal all because it was unintentional on Mono's part. Meanwhile, Six had no way of knowing that Mono would survive the fall (let alone him sitting on a chair alone for decades and becoming the Thin Man) or that the Nomes were children, but Hezu never mentioned a word about that and doesn't give Six the same leniency. And when I pointed out in DM that she's giving them unequal treatment again, she said "You're clearly interested and supportive of Six but I don't know what responses you're looking for from me", like treating Mono and Six fairly is rocket science.

She even suggested that Mono/Thin Man probably didn't know that Six would get the hunger, again dismissing Six's circumstances. She used the 'Accident' or 'Didn't know' cards for Mono (and only Mono (and to a lesser extent RK)) so many times that it's hard for me to care about Mono's circumstances when she won't give Six the same leniency. The fandom's cast iron double standards are recently making me have intrusive thoughts of seeing Mono being the one to suffer and be riddled with guilt instead of Six for once, and I don't like these thoughts or want to have them (I've heard of the statement that intrusive thoughts are actually normal and that there's nothing wrong with you for having them as long as you don't act on them, so don't worry).

With this AU, I will make it so that Six and her suffering DO matter and doesn't get swept under the rug, though the suffering she went through is limited due to what specific part of the timeline Rewind AU Six is from (Kidnapped by the Hunter but none of the canon events after that happened, the one that I had to rescue from 'Channel Change')

And I feel that people will try to make everything about Mono (as usual), so I shouldn't have him in this AU so that he cannot steal the spotlight.

Talking of everything about Six revolving around Mono ever since LN2 came out (or ever since Mono was shown to the audience who then got obsessed with him), people are all too happy to make AUs where Mono finds a happy life with people other than Six, while Six must always be with Mono in happy ending AUs, never anyone else. So this AU is to go against what is commonly done in other AUs, one of which is to allow Six to find happiness with someone other than Mono too (there will other fandom tropes that this AU will go against).

Another main reason behind Rewind is to give Six a second chance - to save RCG. Mono ditched her and went forward and met someone else (who he is partially responsible for the death of in canon), leaving behind all the responsibility of the cycle of suffering that he and Six inflicted on each other, meanwhile Six must still pay penance for her role in cycle, despite the fact that this version of her hasn't yet done any of that, doesn't have a reason to do any of that, and has no way of knowing of any of that. So I feel that it's fitting (and nice opposite to Hezu making 'Channel Change' be a fast-forwards for Mono) that Six is given the chance to go back in time instead (albeit, she didn't have any control on where she ended up, the Tower didn't intend to send her as far back as it did (it wanted to bring her back to when she saw Mono, and Six would remember the Hunter ambushing her, so she would probably manage to avoid him, team up with Mono and the two of them would go through the events of LN2, restarting Mono's cycle)), and unlike Mono/Thin Man, she would actually change the past and reclaim someone she lost along the way (RCG). I think it's a great contrast between Hezu's 'Channel Change' and my 'Rewind': Mono goes forwards, meets someone new, and the two of them become friends, while Six goes backwards, sees someone she lost, is granted a second chance to save them, succeeds, and reclaims a friend.

I have what happens in all 9 (yes nine) sequels planned out, and the character arc I have planned for Six either won't work or work as effectively if Mono joins her. I won't say anything more to avoid spoiling it.

I'm sure that you're too familiar with the double standards and hypocrisy of the fandom ignoring canon for one thing and not the other, so I won't comment much on it:

You've already seen someone on Pinterest and TikTok who has this hypocrisy (and have probably seen the 'artist' who drew Mono and RK smiling as they roast marshmallows on Six's burning corpse), and I'm worried that Hezu is becoming like them (not the Mono and RK together thing, the double standards and sh*tting on Six part), even though she claims that she doesn't think that the boys are innocent or that Six is a bad person and hopes that people don't think that she hates Six, yet defends the bad things the boys did and treating the snapping of the mannequin hand's fingers as the holy grail of Six's character and happily writing essays about the good deeds and traits about the boys and bad ones about Six, which just makes it more confusing when she says that she hopes that people don't think that she hates Six, because she sure doesn't show it.

However! I will give Hezu credit where it's due. She did make a post where when someone asked her about Six in her AU, she pointed them in the direction of my AU (as I've requested her to do), and in the tags she did say that Mono ruining Six's life is more reason for the two of them to not meet, this time not going for the 'accident' or 'he didn't know' cards. Though I’m willing to bet that she never would have done so had I not pointed out her bias to her directly.

And lastly, Hezu turned Mono into a huge jerk. I don't apply this to Mono in general, just the 'Channel Change' version of him. Like, he spent lifetime after lifetime going back to the past, screwing himself and Six over every time, ruining Six's life by inflicting her with a strange hunger curse that led to the death of RK, Six committing cannibalism (which she tried to avoid by eating RK because she knew that the sausage he offered was made of human flesh), which resulted in end of Six's innocence and humanity. And partially ruining his own life by inadvertently ensuring that his past self getting dropped does happen. And he escapes all the responsibility of that by screwing off with the one whose death he is partially responsible for, ditching a child he witnessed get kidnapped by the Hunter (I'm guessing that he 'coincidentally' doesn't remember that either, because he oh so conveniently doesn't seem to remember anything good about Six or not so good about himself), and leaving said child to deal with the consequences of actions she had yet to commit, have reason to commit, or even know about.

A person like that doesn't sound like the ideal person to be in Six's life, so ya, he and Six will definitely not be meeting in Rewind.

If you want to see an AU that executes equal treatment of Mono and Six excellently, then I heavily recommend @scruffiberri's 'Togetherness' AU: https://www.webtoons.com/en/canvas/togetherness-/episode-1-trapped/viewer?title_no=852891&episode_no=1. It's one of my favourite AUs because equal treatment and accountability between Mono and Six is done excellently, so I really think you should read it.

And to answer your second question (sorry it took so long to get to it): not much would happen (though it'd go a lot worse for Mono if Six somehow learned of certain things that happened, which I'll get to in the next paragraph). If she somehow still met Mono, she would still remember being ambushed by the Hunter shortly after seeing him in the tree, so she'd be uneasy at first but settle down if in a setting where the Hunter doesn't show up. But even then, she wouldn't bond to him as strongly as in the game because of RCG living. I'm pretty sure that part of their bond in-game was formed by Six's grief and survivor's guilt from RCG's death, and trying to help him and succeeding (helping him escape from the Hunter, Teacher and Doctor) helped her become more comfortable with caring about him. But in this AU, since she successfully saved RCG, that becoming more comfortable about bonding with him wouldn't be the same, especially since she's been with RCG, bonding with her instead, so she wouldn't become as bonded to him compared to in-game.

And if Six somehow learned about the in-game bad things that Mono's actions caused to happen to her, she would be leaning towards (but probably not completely sure about) wanting to kill him on sight. And if she somehow learned of not only what he canonically caused to her, but also about him screwing off with the person she killed later in time (which again, he is partially responsible for by getting her cursing with the strange hunger in the first place), and leaving her at the mercy of the Hunter... She would tie Mono up, sing "Wolf in sheep's clothing" by Set It Off to him, and then kill him.

TL;DR: No, they will not be meeting in my AU, and if they met again, Six would be uneasy at first but become more comfortable, but any bond she develops towards him won't be as strong as in-game due to successfully saving RCG and bonding with her first. And if somehow Six learned of the canon events and the events of 'Channel Change', things would go really bad, even deadly, for Mono.

[katyspersonal]

How did you let Shabiri gaslight you?

Oh, to be honest, gaslight is not a right term here! It specifically means manipulation that makes another doubt their own memories and perception, but I have a bad habit of also using it when the person got a (generally) right idea about something and someone makes them doubt this idea in favor of a way more detrimental one. The idea, not one's own ability to analyze and perceive! With that being said, what I mean is that Shabriri pushed me more to the 'bad' side of permanent existential dilemma. His words, and "philosophy" of Frenzied Flame in general, appeals both to the brand of despair contained within Soulsborne games and to my own despair.

We spend a lot of Elden Ring seeing suffering and oppression, consequences of "all that divides and distinguishes". The world is broken fundamentally. Greater Will doesn't know what it wants to do, but sought mortal plane to allow them to give it purpose and order. But no matter who takes up so much power, it will all just eventually lead to more misery and need to be destroyed and replaced with the new thing.. and that thing will also eventually collapse. And so on, and so on.

Yeah, Shabriri is the bad guy, sure. It is said that the FF sickness started with him, and now the world is cursed with the condition where if you get reasonably depressed you get linked with the mindless power that wants to undo the existence itself. But why Shabriri had the power to slander the Nomads to begin with? Who set the oppressive system that punished the "heretics" with being buried alive in motion? Certainly not Shabriri. His crime is a symptom of "all that divides and distinguishes", not the cause of it. And the world would've still be broken even if FF was never unleashed. Other endings are still questionable. Age of Fracture is just keeping the world broken as it is. Age of Duskborn and Age of Despair are effectively "swinging the pendulum the other side" and we all know it is pretty bad resolution, no matter how justified or expected. Age of Stars and Age of Perfecf Order remove the 'authority' over cosmic horrors that took the form of gold-colored magic in this world: Ranni removes it from anyone's reach and Goldmask makes it accessible to everyone equally. The problem is-

Yes, exactly lol Thank you, Brador! Who is to tell that now in this sort of anarchy, people won't again battle each other until new leader, new oppressive system arises and new kind of suffering and injustice is created? In the end, it didn't solve anything. People suffer under a leader, people suffer without a leader.

As for my personal experience? I am just thinking about this stuff a lot. ALL the time. As a neurodivergent person I've been experiencing the sense of any society I enter trying to remove me like a tumor on an otherwise healthy body early. Children and teens are naturally cruel to the 'odd ones', that's true, but did things really improve in adulthood, or just became more elusive, buried under layers of pretenses and lies? However, is not it reasonable?

Are social animals, ALL of them and not just humans, at fault for trying to preserve definition and customs of their community by excluding those that don't fit in it? We often claim that animals are innocent, but social ones do the same thing: they are not kind to those who are weaker, "useless" or just break the "rules". Nature itself is very ruthless: you are born with something off or lose it for reasons you could not control and you will not survive. Humans developed the ways to help disabled to adapt and survive, but somehow trapped themselves in the system where helping everyone is "not efficient". The opposite way to build the society, on the other hand, leads to stagnation and a different sort of oppression. Both capitalism and communism are built to get rid of those that don't fit into it, just different criteria of not fitting, and yet you can't trust humanity with anarchy.

But are those born different at fault for being this way? But hey, why do we live in the world where if someone could choose what way to be born as, they'd be inclined to fit the norm just to avoid more misery? But how community is preserved if there is no bar for who can belong in it? No matter how you are born - different or normal - both options are bad because you either suffer or cause suffering with your very existence. But don't normies also suffer when we "ruin" their experiences, systems and traditions by existing, but don't we cause suffering with our own existence? Trying to accommodate to everyone leaves world in stagnation and suffering and eventually some people get fed up and off to declare and exterminate the "enemy", NOT trying to do that causes misery, loneliness and deaths. Again, with people trying to overthrow it but all it does is makes pendulum swing. Happiness can only exist atop of neglecting and oppressing others, and if you ARE oppressed, your own way to happiness only lays through committing atrocities and learning TO oppress so is it worth it?

The problem is in how mind and feelings of everyone that lives work. There is some fundamental error in them, because they seek to harm each other and self, because freedom is dangerous but all control becomes too rotten and brings too many victims in the end. No matter who you are, being born into this world is on itself a curse. You'd think that civilisation and education would improve things, but have they? So far most of what I've seen humans do with knowledge about justice, decency, 'red flags' and abuse, bigotry and morality is to distort and misuse it to no end. They just invent new enemies and eat their own, there is never enough victims. Bigotry and evil is not rooted in ignorance, but in nature of life. Idiots do not become smarter when given knowledge, they just become dangerous idiots. So, is not evolving and not seeking knowledge and meaning better? But we already figured that animalistic drives are pretty evil and brutal too.

I respect Soulsborne for having all this, and much more, seen. I don't feel satisfied with the answers to this problem I tend to get from people, and I definitely don't believe that God who cursed humans for slipping under 100% control and threatens people with even more pain if they don't offer him their love is anything good to fall back on. But hey, the guy who rebelled against him doesn't have humanity's best interests in mind either! He is just waiting to pry on us, and humanity got no one. Being oppressed with fear or being a food for demons or wandering aimlessly without purpose? Choose your poison, there is no mercy except for death, and death is the one and only thing that makes everyone equal! Neither side cares for us, and not even we ourselves care for us. I am talking about both the games and real thing here, because Soulsborne is basically a big real world reference x)

I can only laugh it all off as "edgy teenager angst" for so long, but I am thinking about things like this every day. This post is just a tip of the iceberg because I can't spill my whole heart even if I want to, there is just.. too much stuff. More than all words in all languages could encapsulate. "Destroy all that divides and distinguishes, may Chaos take the world" however, is a good way to express the sentiment. It feels cathartic to say. Why not just end it all, if it's fundamentally broken? If the world is just a farm of suffering but deceptive with many beautiful things to hide its true ugly meaning? Although there were other characters delivering meaning of FF, Shabriri felt like the real manifestation of it, and fed that despair I already struggled it into winning.

Like I said, the whole 'picking FF ending to save Melina xD' flew completely over my head. For me it was about being convinced that just returning everything into primordial state of Chaos and singularity was better. And, again, conversation with Melina was so meaningful for this reason. Because there are enough of people that still agree to live in this world, even if wretched, and experience whatever they can. I'd argue that maybe wish to live itself is just something programmed in us to not let us avoid our given purpose to suffer and struggle, or cause suffering and struggle.. Still, I don't know that. Whatever I am looking for is not something logic or heart can help me with, because both comprehension and nature are insidious, fundamentally broken to turn on other humans and yourself. It is something that can't be identified and thus reproduced and shared, but whatever Melina said must have been connected with it if it made me stop believing in FF as the good thing. It could be about finding your own way, that can't be shared with others, but this means everyone else has the capacity to find their own way. In the end, no one has the right to take that chance away from them; not to spite God, not to end endless suffering, not for anything.

[thedragonagelesbian]

Guilt, hate, secret, and skin :)

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

oc asks: not so nice edition

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

Any time someone else gets hurt on his watch, he's going to feel responsible for it and feel guilty about it. For DA2 Cyrus, big moments include Carver and Leandra's deaths, Bethany being taken to the Circle, and the entirety of The Last Straw and its fallout.

BG3 Cyrus doesn't shoulder as much of that just because he hasn't had any close interpersonal relationships since leaving Baldur's Gate (or, in the case of Ranger Cyrus, since killing [redacted] and leaving Iriaebor). He still feels a little bad about leaving Baldur's Gate in the first place instead of staying after the orphanage burned down, but it's been decades at this point, and he's been able to mostly put that to rest.

The real moment of guilt for pallybarb Cyrus comes with breaking his oath-- he feels so awful for letting everyone down, for falling short of his expectations for himself, and for taking time for himself to process and deal with that instead of swallowing it down to focus on stopping the Absolute. He doesn't want to face that guilt because he doesn't want to face any of it.

Similarly, Shadow Sorc Cyrus feels guilty any time his Came Back Wrong weirdness takes up any time or space that could've been better spent trying to get the tadpoles out of their skulls.

Ranger Cyrus is the only one of them who has any legitimate reason to feel guilty, specifically for the harm he perpetuated as [redacted]'s right hand. And he does, but he already came to terms with that culpability, accepted that that guilt wouldn't do any good for anyone without action, and for a time worked to redress it.

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

Any version of Cyrus is going to hate people who use power to hurt others and the institutions that they represent-- whether that's the templars and the Chantry in DA2 or Gortash and the Steel Watchers in BG3. Injustice, exploitation, cruelty, and, of course, hurting people he cares about are easy ways to light the fire of his righteous and violent fury.

He also hates feeling powerless, specifically powerless to take care of others. This relates obviously to the sense of guilt that this inspires. His Whole Thing is protection, and he doesn't understand himself as having much value or identity beyond that, so when that protection fails or is insufficient, he can get quite angry about it.

Adjacently, depending on the timeline, he really hates being lied to with the intention of manipulating him and taking advantage of his giving and trusting nature. This is the case for DA2 Cyrus from Act 3 onward and for Ranger Cyrus.

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

That he hurts. That he's tired. That he has doubts.

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

He Isn't. The intensity of his alienation of his body varies from version to version, stemming from understanding himself first and foremost as a tool for saving others, from being unable to separate himself from his armor and his titles.

I don't know if you count oathbreaking as a curse, but if you do, all versions of him are cursed! Pallybarb Cyrus is filled with divine absence and silence, Ranger Cyrus lost at least a century of his lifespan in a life transference spell that aged and weathered him, Shadow Sorc Cyrus Came Back Wrong, and DA2 Cyrus is so cursed in such weird noncanonical ways that I just call it the Problems for ease of reference.

As you might imagine, Cyrus struggles a lot to acknowledge his weakest self, as he struggles to acknowledge any self. Any version of him will come to rely on friends, loved ones, and partners to help him with that process-- to be able to hold onto him when he can't hold onto himself and help ground him in the world through physical intimacy.

[loverandservantoftheahlulbayt]

🍂🥀🍂 Lady Zainab (sa) 🍂🥀🍂

🥀 “O the people of Kufah! Woe be upon you! Do you know which part of the Messenger of Allah you have cut? And which vow you have broken? And whose blood you have shed? And which respected family you have brought to the public (as captives)? And whose sanctity you have violated? You have done that, which could tear down the skies, open the earth, and make the mountains vanish. As far as the earth goes and as deep as the skies go, your obvious deed has no like, no similarity and no decency. Indeed you have done the ugliest, the most grievous and gruesome deed.”

🥀 With these words Lady Zainab bint Ali (sa) confronted the people of Kufa who betrayed their Imam in Karbala. There is no doubt that Lady Zainab (sa) is the shining sun in the history of Islam and of humanity. Her brother's name “Imam Hussain” (as) and Karbala associate the idea of freedom, justice, humanity, virtue, fighting against despotism, with the realization of the sovereignty of Allah.

🥀 To fully comprehend the message of Karbala one has to fathom two thoughts. One is the rising of Imam Hussain (as) and the other is the rising of Zainab (sa). Lady Zainab (sa) was an outstanding figure in the history of Karbala endowed with divine steadfastness and fortitude. After the martyrdom of her brother and her two sons in the battle of Karbala, Lady Zainab (sa) stood tall and said: "O my Lord! Accept our humble sacrifice to You."

🥀 Lady Zainab (sa) became famous for her virtuous life. In her character she reflected the best attributes. In sobriety and serenity she was likened to her grandmother Lady Khadija (sa), in chastity and modesty to her holy mother Lady Fatima al-Zahra (sa) and in eloquence to her holy father Imam Ali (as).

🥀 Lady Zainab (sa) proclaimed to the world the greatest sacrifices made by her brother Imam Hussain (as) and other members of the family of the Holy Prophet (S) who were brutally martyred at Karbala in 61 A.H by the forces of Yazid son of Muawiya. On the other hand, the women and children witnessed the very inhumane and merciless violence that took place in Karbala, yet they were not desperate, depressed, they did not collapse, despite all the pain and challenges, they were contrary the opposite. They stood up, spoke up and held Yazid responsible. They had no fear or anxiety but rather were very strong and decisive in their stances.

🥀 A part of the sermon Lady Zainab (sa) gave with utmost bravery in the gathering of Yazid son of Muawiya in Syria shook his majlis (gathering) and still echoes through time and space: “By Allah (SWT), you cannot remove us from the minds (of people), and you cannot fade our message. You will never reach our glory and can never wash the stain of this crime from your hands. Your decisions will not be stable, your period of ruling will be short, and your population will scatter. In that day, a voice will shout: "Indeed may the curse of Allah (SWT) be upon the oppressors..."

🥀 Righteous people should not at all be affected by the harsh circumstances they undergo, that is exactly what Lady Zainab (sa) stressed in her speeches. She reiterated they (Ahlulbayt (as) are the people of strong presence, strength, confidence and faith despite the drastic and harsh calamity that fell upon her and her family. The prophet's (S) household turned this threat into an opportunity and made use of the entire situation and the circumstances they went through lead by the courageous Lady Zainab (sa).

🥀 A model of defiance against oppression and injustice. A woman of patience and endurance. There was no act of worship greater than continuing the rising of her brother, delivering fiery sermons in the path of Kufa and Syria, and awakening ignorant people who were deceived by poisonous propaganda of Yazid son of Muawiya and martyred Imam Hussain (as) as a man who was out of Islam. Her sermons created a movement in Kufa and Damascus which shook the bases of Yazid's kingdom and even Yazid's son refused to replace his father as the king, and after a while, quitted the government while disgracing the oppressing dynasty of Umayyads.

🥀 In her lifetime, Lady Zainab (sa) had endured immense pain from witnessing her loved ones martyred before her eyes, but she never objected to the destiny decreed upon her by Allah. The completeness of her submission is monumental. The grief she expressed was an outpouring of her incredible humanity.

🥀 Lady Zainab’s (sa) role was exemplary. It showed how bold Muslim women were and how they played a key role in consolidating Islamic teachings. Today, despite so much progress and the spread of education, so many Muslim women are suppressed. In some alleged Muslim societies, a woman’s voice is banned from even being heard in public; and here was Lady Zainab (sa) from the Imam’s family who became a public speaker to save Islamic values. The leadership of the family fell to Lady Zainab (sa) after Karbala, and she proved to be more than what was expected of her.

🥀 Today, women have to learn much from her example and leadership qualities. Her public role in the battle of Karbala has much to teach us both Muslim men and women. The only way for women in general and Muslim woman in particular could pay respects to her sacrifice is by being inspired by her life to be courageous in the face of tyranny, patient in times of trouble, and submissive to the will of God. Lady Zainab (sa) the role model for the righteous will forever teach us all that when we undergo countless trials in our lives, we should see nothing but beauty in them.

🕯 by Marwa Osman 🕯

🍂🥀 ***************** 🥀🍂

.

[cr1msonpeak-a]

◟ ▍ ‎₁ . —— @symbion [ henry ] said: i never picked a fight in my entire life.

in any other circumstances, sophie would consider him a coward. perhaps part of her did. however, where her usually harsh tongue would throw stones and cast great judgement, her face resembled something one might call soft... which wasn't too inviting by lady bone's standards, just a tad less furrowed and cemented than usual. besides her brother, henry was the only man to witness such tenderness in the light of her features. deeply rooted in her inheritance was her father's sharp tone and calloused soul, but more importantly— she'd been blessed with her mother's empathy. it was merely closed for the public on most days: about as common as a blue moon... but that wasn’t to say it was non-existent. ❝ why not? ❞ there is little condescending nature to her speech ( a rarity! ) taken over by wavering curiosity. or is it a demanding thirst to know? to understand why he hadn't once raised an objective hand in his entire life. when she, oh, when she'd fought tooth and claw against everything thrust upon her in this unwanted, sorry excuse of survival. screamed at the injustices of it all until her throat bled, spine severely bent, endlessly forced to bow down. to men and their so-called sensibilities.

she'd no doubt have assumed the same of henry if met outside foreign childhoods, outside the cursed wedding day etched into her very bloodline. he was certainly intriguing— she mightn't ever fully comprehend him, but for now, she's almost content. he was company, good company, to say the least. ❝ you never had anything worth fighting for? ❞ or were you simply unwilling to try? did it mean henry actually achieved some token of happiness? sophie was conflicted as to whether she felt joy regarding the notion, ( that old empathy proven ) or if envy reared for his perceived luck. likely the latter.

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO MARE COSMIA, BRUNO BUCCELLATI. 🌗

ꕥ — OOC INFORMATION;

NAME / ALIAS: Cyan AGE: 26 PRONOUNS: She/Her OOC CONTACT: @SOLXDSNAKE on twitter OTHER CHARACTERS IN XC: Wolfwood, Neon White, Red

ꕥ — IC INFORMATION;

NAME: Bruno Buccellati AGE: 20 PRONOUNS: He/Him SERIES: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5: Vento Aureo CANON POINT: Post-Death APP TRIGGERS: General Violence, Death, Body Horror, Organized Crime, Drugs, Torture, Divorce, Grooming, Children in dangerous situations.

PERSONALITY:

Bruno Buccellati is a very bizarre man, one built on contradictions. He’s a kind soul capable of horrible things, and at a glance, difficult to discern. He’s calm and collected, has an odd sense of humor, finds joy in incredible violence and in serving his community; he has bloodied hands and a tender heart that aches for the injustices good, innocent people face.

The man is the poster child of the “friendly neighborhood mafioso” archetype. Looking after his community, offering aid to those down on their luck, giving a home to the people society has left behind. He cherishes what he’s built, and he’s not above doing whatever it takes to keep his city free from scum. No matter what.

The end sometimes justifies the means. The world comes in shades of gray.

And that’s the way it’ll always be. The world doesn’t care if struggles with himself, with the realization that the organization he joined, when he was just a child, an entity he believed was taking justice in its own hands- has now turned to poisoning the people he vowed to protect.

But Buccellati has a plan, always does.

SOMETHING YOUR MUSE STRUGGLES WITH:

Love

Carrying the world on his shoulders.

Curiosity. It makes him nosy.

YOUR MUSE'S GREATEST STRENGTH:

Kindness, he will always be there for those who need him most.

Leadership

Determination

HISTORY/BACKGROUND:

Paolo and Bianca Buccellati had a young family by the coast. Paolo was a fisherman and Bianca would watch over their son, Bruno- She’d read him bedtime stories, introduce him to poetry and fashion magazines— which ended up being some of the boy’s favorites; but even so Bruno would often be at sea with his father, enjoying the breeze, learning the way of the sea, catching fish- and then excitedly coming home to his Mama, to sing and help around the kitchen.

It was a simple life in a loving home, but love is a fickle, cruel thing. Bianca had dreams and ambitions of her own, of greater things this small, nowhere town couldn’t give her. She needed to open her wings, find a better life for herself and her son in the big city, but… Bruno said no, and Bianca left to never return.

This change was one of many. Paolo tried to heal his broken heart and work more so he could be better, for his son. Taking fishing trips, sightseeing trips, and dealing with demanding tourists. As it turned out, a pair of these tourists weren’t what they seemed and after having witnessed a drug deal Paolo was brutally attacked and left in a coma.

Bruno felt both blessed and cursed. His father was alive! and those men would come looking for him.

Weighing his options, heavy as the knife he held in hand, Bruno did as his father taught him while on the boat. Let the bait work. wait. and when the fish bites, you take the knife and gut them.

There’s no turning back from murder, and this was only the beginning. Desperate, he turned to the Passione Crime Syndicate, asking for their protection in exchange for his loyalty; it wasn’t long until he became their valuable child executioner, groomed into being the perfect agent, nobody would doubt a child, and the dead can’t regret their lack of caution.

Years would pass and he would rise up the ranks, little Bruno was now addressed almost exclusively by surname, Buccellati, a sign of the respect he’d gained by the members of Passione, and of his community. He would go on to lead his own team, become Capo, and take the fight directly to the Don.

After all, the bastard had plunged Passione into the hard drugs trade, the same dirty business that cost Buccellati his life, family and childhood.

Community and Family are sacred.

Knowing the Don would forsake both his people and his daughter, Enraged Buccellati. So even if he found himself with his hands tied and mouth muzzled, even if this was challenging the same power that allowed him to keep his own safe, Buccellati would fight tooth and nail for change.

They say traitors walk alone in a path leading only to pain and isolation.

If that’s what it takes, then so be it, it’ll be difficult…

But Buccellati has a plan, he always does.

POWERS/ABILITIES:

A Stand is the manifestation of a person's soul, they are one and the same, and their power reflects the truth of their user’s psyche.

『STICKY FINGERS』: Buccellati's stand. Aside from the enhanced speed and strength all stand users receive; It allows him to create zippers on any surface. He can open and close the zippers whenever he desires, as well as activate these remotely. While Sticky Fingers himself isn't visible to the naked eye of non-stand users, his zipper ability is physical phenomena and thus can be seen and touched by anyone.

Sticky Fingers's zippers comes with a couple of sub-abilities such as:

UNION AND SEPARATION: Attaching, Detaching and reattaching different things together. This includes body parts which can be to and from different people.

SEVERING: The zippers can swiftly cut through things without issue, this includes body parts. Buccellati is able to control whether this is harmful/painful or not.

For example: a severed head could still be completely functional and healthy as if it was still attached to the body. But if Buccellati decided to, this effect could be nullified and function more like a traditional beheading.

HEALING: the zippers are able to close wounds as well as reattach severed limbs by virtue of zipping tissue up and back together.

ZIPPER DIMENSION: zippers could be opened to lead into a hammer/impossible space within objects/people. This allows him to hide things inside places, even himself.

OPENING SPACE: This works mostly as creation of an opening that connects one space to another.

For Example: Buccellati placed a zipper on the wall of a railcar, allowing him to move through it and into the rails. It's free real door.

INHERENT ABILITIES:

Lie Detection: though not infallible, Buccellati is very good at telling if someone is lying. it may or may not include intimidation tactics and of course…. Licking people. He calls himself a "human lie detector."

Skilled Fighter: Buccellati has been in the Mafia from a really young age. He is not afraid of getting into physical altercations - he's shown to be flexible, fast and merciless.

Smart: and quick on his feet, but very, very clueless.

Natural Born Leader: along with his habit of looking after others, it's second nature for him to move into positions of leadership, following the best interests of those under his command.

Charisma: illegal for a man to have that much.

ITEMS/WEAPONS:

Handgun: A Semi Automatic Pistol

STARTING ABILITY: 『STICKY FINGERS』

STARTING ITEM: Handgun

EXTRA:

Nonbinary with a side of man.

Wears visible lacy lingerie. Under an expensive white suit.

Headliner for Gucci and Balenciaga. Like Irl.

Hates beans. Hates apples.

Immaculate sense of style. Megan Thee Stallion confirmed.

Ever been a ghost haunting your own dead body?

World's First Male Femme Fatale. Bond girl with all the power and standing of the Godfather.

DISCORD ID: santomartire

[explorya88]

**Warning: Content Advisory**

This fanfic contains sensitive and serious themes that may be difficult for some readers. If you are uncomfortable with topics such as [Violence, moral questionable behaviors, explicit contents and many others], it's advisable to reconsider reading further. Your well-being is important to me, and i encourage you to prioritize your emotional health. Take care, and thank you for understanding.

This short tale is placed one month before the interlude.

Lust II: Maledictus Liberi (The Cursed Children), too many epithets.

In this story Dracaena is Darius and Fang (SWM MC) daughter from the future like Trunks of Dragon ball series.

Dracaena while playing Injustice: Gods Among Us, recall when she choose to merge with the seed of Divashma.

Twenty six day ago...

Dracaena: I'm here to stop the bad future to come to pass, kill Kozholok and save my parents, mommy Fang and daddy Darius, tell me how merging with you is supposing to help me?

Seed of Divashma: Young Dracaena, merging with me grants you the power to alter the course of destiny, absolute freedom from stupid things that doomed your timelines and your loved one like morality, restraints, shame. Together, we shall rewrite the future and vanquish the looming threat. Are you ready to merge with embrace this power?

The only reason that Dracaena is listen to it its because it is a gift from her father...but giving that Kozholok still on the loose she must be careful so she ask a proof of its trustyworthness so the seed of Divashma tell her to sleep so it can show her its offer to her. In the ethereal realm between dreams and reality, Dracaena found herself surrounded by swirling energies. The Seed of Divashma manifested before her in a luminous display, offering glimpses of a harmonious future. Scenes unfolded like pages of a book, showcasing a world where her parents, Fang and Darius, lived without fear, laughter echoing in a peaceful land.

Seed of Divashma: Dracaena, witness the beauty of a world untainted by Kozholok's darkness. With our union, this reality can be yours to protect and cherish.

As the visions played out, Dracaena felt a profound sense of purpose and responsibility. Yet, a flicker of doubt lingered in her mind. She questioned

Dracaena: How can I be certain these visions are not illusions? What guarantee do I have that merging with you will bring about the promised future?

Seed of Divashma: Trust is forged through experience. As we merge, you shall gain the strength to discern truth from falsehood. Together, we will navigate the currents of time and rewrite the destiny that awaits us.

Dracaena, bolstered by newfound determination, nodded in agreement. With a deep breath, she entered a state of meditation, prepared to merge her essence with the Seed of Divashma. The energies intensified, enveloping her in a cocoon of transformative power, setting in motion the journey to reshape the threads of fate, as the process of merging commenced, the Seed of Divashma resonated internally with a subtle coo, observing Dracaena's innocence and determination.

Seed of Divashma: Ah, sweet and naive, yet courage flows within her veins like a river. Little does she realize the weight of the destinies intertwined. Together, we shall navigate the currents of destiny, and in her journey, she will discover the power within her heart.

The seed of Divashma created by her father as her birthday gift, is ready to guide and witness the unfolding saga through the eyes of its chosen vessel. Dracaena still sleeping in a vivid dream, her mind conjuring up a passionate scene of intense pleasure. In her dream, Yvette and Vinca were engaged in a raw and primal display of lovemaking. Vinca's skilled tongue explored every inch of Dracaena's wet and eager pussy, flicking and teasing with a fervent desire. Meanwhile, Yvette's hands worked their magic on Dracaena's breasts, massaging, squeezing, and delivering tantalizing spanks that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

Yvette (breathlessly): Mmm, Dracaena, you breasts so soft. I can't get enough of them.

Vinca (moaning): I love how you squirm and moan, my love. You're so responsive to my touch.

Dracaena (gasping): Yes, don't stop... I want more. Yvette, spank me harder. Vinca, lap up every drop of my wetness.

Yvette (grinning): You asked for it, my naughty girl.

She brings her hand down with several sharp smacks on Dracaena's breasts, leaving a delightful sting.

Vinca (licking her lips): Mmm, your juices are flowing so freely, my love. I'll taste every drop, savoring your essence.

The room was filled with the intoxicating scent of sex, punctuated by the sounds of moans and gasps of pleasure. Dracaena's senses were overwhelmed as she witnessed her wives indulging in the most intense and rough form of love, filling her mind with a mixture of desire, excitement, and a hunger for more.

Dracaena (moaning): That's it, both of you... Fuck! I'm so close. Keep going, take me over the edge.

Yvette (whispering in Dracaena's ear): We're going to make you come so hard, my love. Your pleasure is all that matters right now.

Vinca (pressing her tongue against Dracaena's clit): I can feel you tightening around me, baby. Come for us, let go.

Dracaena (crying out): Yes! Yes! Oh fuck, I'm coming!

In the passionate haze of their dream, Vinca positioned herself above Dracaena, aligning their pussies so they could rub against each other in a delicious friction. With a gentle yet firm pressure, Vinca's wetness mingled with Dracaena's, creating a tantalizing sensation that sent shivers of pleasure through both of their bodies. They moved in a rhythm, their hips grinding together, seeking more pleasure with each intimate contact. The sensation was so intense that it felt as if their bodies were merging into one, becoming lost in the intoxicating blend of desire and ecstasy.

Vinca (moaning): Oh, Dracaena, your pussy feels so fucking good against mine. I love the way our wetness mixes, creating this incredible heat between us.

Vinca's voice was filled with desire as she continued to rub herself against Dracaena, their bodies moving in sync. The sensation of their intimate connection overwhelmed her senses, heightening her pleasure with each delicious movement.

Vinca (breathlessly): Yes, baby, grind against me. Feel how our pussies slide together, how we become one in this intoxicating rhythm. I want to feel your wetness, your heat, all over me.

Her words were a mix of longing and lust, reflecting her deep yearning to be completely entwined with Dracaena. Vinca's hips gyrated with a fierce passion, seeking more delicious friction, as she lost herself in the euphoria of their shared pleasure. Vinca, wishing to give her wife true ecstasy, she tapped into her abilities to enhance Dracaena's pleasure, she order her shadow to take a tangible form, and delicately caressed Dracaena's womb, specifically targeting her ovaries. With a gentle touch, the shadow massaged and stimulated Dracaena's ovaries, intensifying her pleasure to new heights. Dracaena's moans grew louder as the combination of Vinca's grinding and the shadow's sensual touch sent waves of ecstasy coursing through her body. The sensation of her ovaries being teased heightened her pleasure, creating a unique and intoxicating experience that she had never felt before.

Vinca (whispering): Feel it, my love. Let the shadow's touch bring you to new heights of pleasure. Surrender to the sensations coursing through your body.

Dracaena's body trembled with pleasure as Vinca's shadow continued its sensual manipulation. The combination of physical and magical stimulation pushed her towards the pinnacle of pleasure, her body tensing as she approached a mind-blowing climax. Yvette, driven by her own desires, straddled Dracaena's face, positioning herself in a way that her wet and eager pussy was just inches away from Dracaena's waiting mouth. With a commanding tone, Yvette asserted her desires.

Yvette (assertively): Lick my pussy, Dracaena. Taste me. Pleasure me with your tongue.

Yvette's voice brimmed with dominance, as she took control of the moment, commanding Dracaena to fulfill her desires. Dracaena, eagerly obedient, complied, her tongue reaching out to explore the folds of Yvette's pussy, tasting her wetness and responding to every movement and pressure from Yvette's hips.

Dracaena (muffled): Yes, Yvette. I'll pleasure you. I'll lick you just the way you want.

With each flick of her tongue and gentle suck, Dracaena lavished Yvette's sensitive areas, immersing herself in the act of pleasuring her wife. The room filled with the sounds of Yvette's moans and the wet, rhythmic sounds of Dracaena's oral attentions, as they both surrendered to the intoxicating dance of pleasure and dominance. Yvette, fully immersed in the moment, proced to focus to her wife's breasts. With a firm grip, she squeezed and massaged Dracaena's breasts, reveling in the softness and fullness of her flesh.

Yvette (sensually): Mmm, your breasts are so beautiful, Dracaena. They're meant to be pleasured, to be worshipped.

Yvette's touch was a blend of desire and control as she kneaded and squeezed Dracaena's breasts, her fingers exploring every curve and contour. Dracaena's moans of pleasure mingled with the wet sounds of their passionate encounter, filling the air with an intoxicating symphony of pleasure.

Dracaena (gasping): Yes, Yvette. Your touch feels amazing. Keep pleasuring me, show me how much you desire my body.

Dracaena's voice dripped with a mixture of need and surrender as she reveled in the sensations coursing through her. Yvette's touch on her breasts heightened her pleasure, sending waves of desire crashing through her body, leading her closer to the edge of complete ecstasy. Yvette, Vinca, and Dracaena continued their passionate dance, their bodies entwined in a frenzy of desire. The room echoed with their moans and cries of pleasure as they approached the pinnacle of their orgasms. Their movements became more urgent and erratic, their breaths quickening, and their bodies trembling with anticipation. Each touch, each thrust, and each caress fueled the fire within them, igniting a storm of pleasure that threatened to consume them entirely, as their climax surged through their bodies, their voices merged in a symphony of ecstasy, their screams of pleasure filling the air, waves of intense pleasure washed over them, their bodies convulsing with the intensity of their orgasms, releasing the built-up tension and leaving them spent but utterly satisfied. Their cries of pleasure reverberated in the room, a testament to the raw and unrestrained passion that had consumed them. In that moment, they existed solely for each other's pleasure, indulging in the deepest depths of their desires until they were spent and satiated. Then the dream shift, Dracaena's dream raids unfolded with calculated precision, her subconscious navigating a realm where desires denied in waking life became treasures in the dream world. Under the watchful gaze of Tyrant Darius, none dared to oppose her whims. She pilfered toys that had eluded her in childhood, adorned herself in dresses denied, and indulged in a plethora of Pokémon delights. In the midst of her dream raid, Dracaena exclaimed...

Dracaena: Finally, my stolen childhood reclaimed! Toys, dresses, and Pokémon wonders, all mine for the taking!

Tyrant Darius: Seize what was denied, my daughter. Let none challenge your desires. This world is yours to command.

Demons, humans, etc...: But, she takes everything! What about our possessions?

Tyrant Darius: Like me she is the sovereign. Cross her, and face the consequences.

Dracaena: No one can deny me now. I am the ruler of my own kingdom and none shall stand in my way! YES! YES! YES!!! Merge with me seed of Divashma!

Seed of Divashma: As your wish.

Dracaena: Oh, the merging with you seed of Divashma is an incredibly intense and pleasurable experience. It's like being enveloped in a wave of raw, primal energy that courses through every fiber of my being. The sensation is electric, as if a hundred hands caress and explore my body, igniting every nerve ending with desire. The merging of energies creates a symphony of pleasure, overwhelming my senses with a heady mix of pleasure and ecstasy. Every touch, every stroke, every movement is heightened, amplifying the pleasure to unimaginable levels. It's an experience that leaves you gasping for breath, trembling with pleasure, and craving for more.

It goes for six hour, six minutes and six seconds until Dracaena fully merged with the seed of Divashma, Dracaena, her senses now attuned to the merged power within, rises with a newfound energy. She looks around, the world itself seeming to respond to the shift in her existence.

Seed of Divashma (voice resonates with an ethereal authority): Dracaena, bearer of our merged essence, you stand at the threshold of a destiny inscribed in the annals of revolution. This world await your touch, and your father, Tyrant Darius, anticipates the manifestation of your prowess.

Dracaena, feeling the surge of power, steadies herself. Her eyes, now reflecting a glint of both uncertainty and determination, meet the unseen presence of the seed.

Dracaena: I can feel it, the power coursing through me. I am ready to embrace the legacy, to make my father proud. The dominion he envisions shall unfold under my influence.

The surroundings seem to respond, shadows elongating and swirling as if acknowledging the awakening of a force. Dracaena, with a newfound aura, steps forward, a willingness to shape the world in alignment with the aspirations of his Tyrant Darius and the seed of Divashma.

Seed of Divashma: The tapestry of revolution awaits your touch, Dracaena. May your journey carve the path to greatness and mayhem. The legacy of your father shall flourish through your dominion.

Dracaena lets out a mighty roar that echoes through the refuge. The air itself shivers in response to her newfound strength, as she warps outside, her form begins to shift, transforming into a colossal, feathered serpent.

Dracaena: Behold the embodiment of chaos! I am the serpent of dominion, the herald of my father's legacy! I am Metstlisiuateotl Iuik in Tonatiusiuateotl, Ipixkiuh Iuik in senyelistli Altepeuh!!!

[Goddess of the moon and sun, Guardian of my family Kingdom!!!]

The adversaries, caught off guard, gaze in awe and terror as Dracaena, in her colossal serpentine form, maneuvers with an effortless grace. With a voice that resonates like a tempest, she speaks to those who dare challenge her.

Dracaena: Your resistance is but a fleeting breath in the winds of destiny. Kneel before the might of Tyrant Darius, for his legacy courses through my veins.

The adversaries, realizing the overwhelming force before them, attempt futile defenses as Dracaena, with calculated precision, asserts her dominion. The chaos unfolds in the clash of powers, and the once defiant foes find themselves overpowered by the sheer might of the serpent of chaos, Dracaena with a majestic sweep of her wings, unleashes a torrent of chaotic energy as the demons before her, unable to withstand the sheer force, disintegrate into swirling dust. Her howl reverberates, a proclamation of dominance that echoes through the chaotic battlefield.

Dracaena: Witness the might of my father's bloodline! I am Tonakapilli

[Shining child]

I am the harbinger of chaos, the serpent of dominion.

As she revels in the defeat of her father's enemies, a dark euphoria emanates from Dracaena. Her colossal form weaves through the remnants of the opposition, each movement a display of power, and her howls become a symphony of triumph.

Dracaena: This is the legacy of Tyrant Darius, a legacy I now wield with unbridled might. Let his reign!

Trudy, witnessing the awe-inspiring manifestation of Dracaena's power approaches with a zeal that borders on reverence, her eyes glitter with a mixture of admiration and fervor.

Trudy: Dracaena, Ahmiki Iluikoatlsiuateotl!

[Immortal feathered Goddess serpent!]

Your power is a spectacle, a symphony of chaos that would make even the most daring demons cower. Tyrant Darius, your father would be proud.

Dracaena, her colossal form now regaining a more humanoid appearance, blushes under Trudy's praise. The remnants of her chaotic howls still linger in the air.

Dracaena: Trudy, you've been a loyal friend, and your support means more than you can imagine. But I have yet to prove my worth to my father, Tyrant Darius. The chaos I bring forth today is just the beginning.

Trudy, undeterred, caresses Dracaena's cheek with a zealous affection.

Trudy: The beginning indeed! The madness and might you've exhibited are beyond remarkable. The dominion of your father flows through you, and with each conquest, you carve your place in the legacy of your father kingdom.

Dracaena smiles, a blend of humility and determination in her eyes.

Dracaena: I'll weave a tale of chaos that i hope my father will marvel at. My father dominion shall flourish, and our family legacy will be etched in the eternity of pandemonium.

Dracaena, her eyes now attuned to the chaotic currents, senses the presence of other demons lurking in the shadows. With a focused inhale, she draws in the surrounding air, gathering the essence of malevolence. As she exhales, a swirling miasma envelops the unsuspecting demons, freezing them in a spectral paralysis.

Dracaena (whispers): In the dance of mayhem, none escape its grasp.

The miasma snakes through the air, a potent concoction of her newfound power. The demons, caught within its ethereal tendrils, become statues of their former selves, immobilized by the poisonous energy. Trudy, observing the scene, is filled with both awe and excitement.

Trudy: Dracaena, you've mastered the art of subjugation with a mere breath. The enemies stand frozen in the shadows of their own weakness.

Dracaena, with a wicked grin, surveys the paralyzed demons, deciding their final fates. She decide to play with them first, so she take her colossal feathered serpent form coiling around the paralyzed demons, squeezes gently, reveling in their helplessness. The feathered scales press against them as she taunts their feeble resistance.

Dracaena (sinister hiss): How fragile your malevolence is, demons. The Immortal feathered Goddess serpent now holds your destiny in her coils.

Trudy, standing by, watches with a mix of fascination and amusement.

Trudy (smirking): Their arrogance crumbles in the face of true chaos. Dracaena, you wield the power of your father with finesse.

Dracaena (mockingly): Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Your malevolence is but a fleeting shadow in the vastness of chaos.

One of the demons, attempting a defiant retort, struggles against the constriction.

Demon: You cannot ... gasps ... contain our power.

Dracaena tightens her coils, emphasizing their futility.

Dracaena (with a dark chuckle): Your power my toys? Mere whispers in the tempest of chaos. Submit to the dominion or vanish into the abyss.

In the dance of shadows, Trudy marveled at Dracaena's mastery. The once defiant demons, now ensnared, were mere playthings in the colossal feathered serpent's coils. The thrill of witnessing the manifestation of Tyrant Darius's legacy surged through her veins. As Dracaena mocked the demons' feeble attempts at resistance, Trudy couldn't help but smirk the balance of power had shifted, and the dominion they sought to establish was asserting itself with every twist of the feathered serpent's body as Dracaena's forked tongue flicked out with sinister precision, it danced across the immobilized demons, delivering a sensation that bordered on both discomfort and amusement the feathered serpent, reveling in the play of power, took delight in underlining their vulnerability.

Demon 1 (struggling): What madness is this? Unhand us, monster!

Dracaena's tongue continued its intricate dance, teasing and tickling, while Trudy observed with a dark satisfaction.

Demon 2 (with strained laughter): Is this the extent of our defiance? A monster's mockery?

Dracaena (mockingly): Your defiance is but a pitiful whimper in the grand symphony of chaos. Embrace the truth, your power is inconsequential.

Trudy, enjoying the spectacle, couldn't help but smirk at the demons' futile attempts to resist the serpent's playfulness. In the unfolding chaos, the echoes of their mocking laughter began to dissolve into the realization of their own insignificance. Dracaena satisfied with the demons' realization of their powerlessness decides to plunge them into a new realm of horror. With a subtle gesture, she unfurls her colossal serpent form, releasing the coiled demons.

Dracaena (whispers): Into the waking nightmare, let reality mirror your deepest fears.

As the demons regain their mobility, the surroundings warp into manifestations of their darkest nightmares, the air thickens with palpable dread as their own fears materialize before them.

Demon 1 (panicking): This... this can't be real! It's just a nightmare!Dracaena, her eyes gleaming with mischief, observes their torment with a touch of sadistic satisfaction.

Demon 2 (frantically): Make it stop! We submit! We beg you!

As Trudy return to watch over and protect Fang, she cast a vigilant gaze, ensuring the safety of her friend amidst the swirling chaos Dracaena orchestrated. The refuge, though now enshrouded in a magical wall, remained a sanctuary under Trudy's watchful eyes. Meanwhile back to Drracaena.... Dracaena savoring the demons' anguish in their manifested nightmares, shifts her focus to an illusion that plays on their deepest fears. With a subtle command, the once solid ground beneath their feet seems to liquefy into an abyss, giving the illusion that they are sinking into the road.

Demon 3 (frantically): No! What is happening? We're sinking!

Dracaena, with a hauntingly calm demeanor observes the terror etched across their faces.

Demon 4 (desperate): This can't be real! Make it stop, monster!

Dracaena, amused by the demons' desperate pleas conjures a swirling whirlpool, intensifying their illusionary descent into insanity.

Dracaena (with a sinister chuckle): How amusing that demons, who revel in chaos, call me a monster. Let the abyss consume you, for in chaos, I find my true form.

The demons, caught in the tumultuous illusion of sinking, clutch at each other in futile attempts to escape the inexorable pull.

Demon 5 (screaming): This is madness! Make it stop!

Dracaena: Madness, you say? In the grand tapestry of chaos, your feeble notions of reality are but threads. Embrace the madness, for I am the embodiment of your deepest fears.

Sensing the perfect moment to amplify the surreal nightmare, she unfurls her majestic wings. With an otherworldly melody, she begins to sing, her voice resonating with both beauty and malevolence. The haunting notes wrap around the demons like ethereal tendrils, making them susceptible to the impending illusion.

Dracaena (🎶): In the madness where insanity dwells,

A serpent's song, its eerie spells.

Whispers in the dark, illusions unfold,

A nightmare dance, a tale to be told.

Upside down, in my domain you'll sway,

As my song weaves the night and day.

Reality bends to my sweet refrain,

In the symphony of chaos, feel the pain (🎶).

As the song permeates the air, the demons, entranced by the melodic malevolence, find themselves succumbing to the whims of Dracaena's illusion.

Demon 6 (hypnotized): What... what is this enchantment?

Dracaena, with a triumphant gleam in her eyes, continues her haunting serenade, manipulating the very fabric of their perceptions.

Dracaena (🎶): Dreams and nightmares entwined,

In my illusion, truths you'll find.

Suspended, upside down, you'll be,

Dancing to the chaos, eternally (🎶).

As the last note hangs in the air, the demons, now fully ensnared by Dracaena's illusion, dangle upside down in a surreal dance orchestrated by the serpent of dominion, the suspended demons begin to perceive a myriad of ferocious creatures closing in on them.

Demon 7 (panicking): Bears! Sharks! Tigers! What is happening?

Dracaena, with a wicked grin, intensifies the illusion, each creature appearing with vivid, nightmarish realism.

Dracaena (tauntingly): Welcome to the menagerie of chaos. The predators of your deepest fears are here to greet you.

Demon 8 (frantically swatting at unseen attackers): Get them off! Get them off!

Suddenly, a colossal serpent, its scales gleaming with an otherworldly iridescence, materializes before them.

Demon 9 (stammering): Look! It's a massive snake! We're its prey!

The serpent, a creation of Dracaena's malevolent whims, hisses with an unearthly resonance. Its eyes, gleaming orbs of chaos, fixate on the suspended demons, intensifying their terror, the illusory serpent lunges, the demons, trapped in their surreal nightmare, feel the phantom coils constricting around them. Their hearts race with terror as the chaotic zoo becomes a twisted stage for their imagined demise.

Demon 10 (voice trembling): This is madness! This is madness! This is madness! This is madness!

Nahara the seer, and Quillain the silent shadow, materialize from the shadows as Dracaena weaves her illusions.

Nahara: Playing with your prey, Dracaena? How childsh.

Quillain: She's right, my young serpent.

Dracaena, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief, addresses them.

Dracaena: Not playing, Nahara, Quillain. I aim to master my powers within before the inevitable reunion with my father, Tyrant Darius. The dominion he envisions must be wielded with precision.

Nahara (smirking): The serpent seeks mastery. An endearing endeavor.

Quillain: Be wary, Dracaena. The balance between mastery and madness is delicate. Your father legacy is both a gift and a curse.

Dracaena (with determination): I'll navigate my powers, Quillain. When our father arrives, I shall present him with a dominion sculpted by my own hands.

Nahara: Impressive words, Dracaena. Now, let us witness the fruits of your "training" mastery.

Dracaena, with a subtle gesture, shifts the illusion once again. The demons, still suspended in the chaotic menagerie, now perceive themselves being pursued by colossal, gloating figures, phantom giants that revel in enumerating everything wrong about them.

Gloating Giant 1 (with a booming voice): Pathetic creatures! Your every flaw exposed for all to see. How entertaining!

Gloating Giant 2 (mockingly): Look at them squirm, like insects caught in the web of their own insignificance.

Nahara and Quillain, watching the spectacle unfold, exchange amused glances.

Nahara (chuckling): A delightful touch, Dracaena. Exposing their vulnerabilities with illusions.

Quillain (smirking): The giants of mockery, unveiling the demons' insecurities. Quite the theatrical insanity.

As the gloating giants continue their phantom pursuit, Nahara and Quillain revel in the demons' futile attempts to escape the relentless scrutiny of their imagined flaws. Dracaena, with a glint of satisfaction, observes the orchestrated chaos, a manifestation of her growing mastery over the illusions that dance in the shadows of her power. Dracaena still in her colossal form casts an ominous shadow as she opens her massive maw, ready to consume them and assimilate their essence into her mad being as she is hungry for food at last. The demons, suspended in their phantom torment, gaze in terror as Dracaena's maw inhales with a force that defies the very fabric of reality. The illusory creatures, once a manifestation of their fears, distort and dissipate into the swirling abyss within her. As the demons are fully assimilate, the outside world bears witness to this grotesque display of supreme power. Dracaena, now infused with the assimilated essence, stands as an embodiment of the power that dance within and around her.

Dracaena: Let's see a film!

Nahara: Fair enough, Dracaena. Let us reunite with Trudy and Fang. A film sounds like a fitting diversion while we await the grand reunion with Tyrant Darius.

Quillain (smirking): A normal film in the midst of chaos? An intriguing choice.

As they reunite with Trudy and Fang still sleep in her room, a sense of camaraderie prevails.

Nahara (to Trudy): Dracaena's growth have taken a rather entertaining turn.

Trudy (smirking): I'm sure they have. Perhaps a film is just what we need.

As they settle in, the shadows of night embracing them, they prepare to enjoy a film, finding solace in the brief respite before Tyrant Darius arrives to usher in a new era of dominion and pandemonium.

Dracaena: The future, the world and all of what is contained in it is ours, your kingdom is over Kozholok and our kingdom shall rise and will be eternal! Muhahahahaha!!!