#and that the world at large is a dangerous place with terrible people in charge

[snezus-christ-risen]

Another way to look at it is that we've all been living a nightmare for the past 4 years and just fooled to believe otherwise for the longest time. Nothing has changed, and nothing will unless the collective finally decides we've had enough. However, most people aren't ready nor willing to believe that. Not to mention our money has been going towards the slaughtering of people in other countries for years and years, without a cent given back to us. Broken country, but the system is working as intended to. For the complex, NOT for the people. Many of us really don't know how lucky we are to have the problems we do. You'll wake up tomorrow, just as you did today, no threat of imminent life-ending danger looming, while citizens of other nations die, funded by OUR TAX MONEY. We all need to assess our privileges, even at the smallest level.

Thank you for the privilege check and perspective. It is outrageous that regardless of who won, our taxes would continue to fund wars and genocide. The Democratic party brought this on themselves by continuing to support genocide, refusing to listen to the people, and moving the party further right with every election, but of course the blame will be put on third party voters (despite the math not mathing). The USA is a fucking joke and I’m ashamed to be part of it.

[megamindsecretlair]

Hey gurl hey 😄🙌🏾 didn't I tell ya, that I was just gonna just show up in your inbox one day. Well that day has come 😆 I'm putting in my request for Candy Kane. Do you think it's possible if we can get a Shy Reader type feeling insecure about meeting Kanes friends? 🤔 Feeling like she doesn't fit in with them or his world really, but Kane giving her that reassurance that she's right where she needs to be? Yeah, yeah. I think that will be a jam. 😌👏🏾

A/N: And a jam it was!

So Into You

Pairing: Kane x Shy!Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Use of n-word. PIV, fingering (fem receiving) cursing, teasing, all consensual. Established relationship. Spoilers for the show.

Summary: Being with Kane was starting to get serious. He invites you out to a kickback, wanting you to meet his crew. You didn’t come from his world and didn’t know all of the rules. It made you nervous. You hid out in his office while you contemplated ending the relationship. Kane has to convince you to stay.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3,561k

A/N: Forgive me! I didn't know yall. I didn't know it'd been so long since a Kane fic. I'm sorry I've taken forever to get to this request. I hope it serves! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @dayjlovesromance @flydotty @eggnox @blackerthings @hopelessdisasterr @sevikasblackgf @wide-nose-and-wonderful @monaeesstuff @notapradagurl7 @lovedlover @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @slippinninque @henneseyhoe @amyhennessyhouse @miyuhpapayuh @theyscreamsannii @luvvforanimatedmen @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00 @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi

You were hiding. You knew you were hiding but your nerves were tearing up your stomach. Quick, painful twists that made you want to lean over or lay on the floor in the fetal position. But Kane’s warehouse was…rugged to say the least. You wouldn’t trust the floor considering what Kane did for a living.

You were not shocked. These days, Black men came in a limited variety of flavors. Growing up as you did, you did not see yourself with a banker or investor. Kane was beyond good to you and a top boss. He wasn’t running the streets anymore. He didn’t have to. 

However, that didn’t mean that it didn’t make you nervous as hell. He lived a dangerous life. It was a fact of life at this point. You had strength for days, able to somehow push it from your mind. Kane was invincible in your eyes. He had to be. You couldn’t live in a world where he didn’t exist. 

Your sweaty hands began to itch. You rubbed it on your jeans and tried to still your jumping leg. Sounds filtered in from the main part of the warehouse. The place was rapidly filling up with his top lieutenants and their significant others, women who chased the gangsters, and the women they brought along for support. 

Large crowds made you nervous. You couldn’t speak right. Couldn’t pluck words in a coherent order. You missed cues for jokes or your heart thumped too loud for you to hear what anyone was saying. You were terrible at first impressions. 

People assumed you were mean or stuck up. When in reality, you were shy to the point of being embarrassing. You didn’t speak first or follow up with people because god, why was it so hard? You felt like you were bothering people at best, being a nuisance at worst. 

And somehow, this kickback felt worse. These were Kane’s top people. The guys willing to follow him to the grave. That type of loyalty meant something. Kane was not like these young dudes, running around playing with guns or drugs or spitting in the face of those who came before them. No one had respect anymore. 

These people were the inner circle. These were the people you needed to impress. You were very much in your head, wheezing at the prospect of not standing up under their scrutiny. What if they decided that Kane was whole ass tripping by being with you?

You hated being shy most times. Hated that people couldn’t see you and know that there someone amazing underneath the shyness. That once you got comfortable, you were practically the life of the party. The problem was, it took you too long to feel comfortable and people lost their patience too quickly. 

A door opened and you jumped up from your seat at Kane’s desk. It was the farthest, safest place you could manage around the warehouse. Everyone too afraid to enter. You looked over the railing to see Kane searching the floor. 

He looked so good. Thick in all the right places. His shoulders were wide and broad and he had a slow gait that never failed to drive you wild. You noticed everything about him. Everything. Down to the twitch of his eye when he was truly upset. 

Kane’s eyes swept up and you gave him a small wave. He scrunched his face in confusion and then started making his way over to you. He climbed the stairs, eyes softening as he reached you.

“Why you got me looking everywhere for you?” He asked. He kissed your cheek but pulled back too quickly, denying you the pleasure of rubbing your cheek against his stubble. 

“I’m sorry. I needed…air,” you said. Kane gave you a funny look and you giggled. “Like, space to breathe.” 

Kane nodded and leaned against his desk. You sat back down in his chair, getting more comfortable. He’s brought you to his place a few times so you felt comfortable mixing amongst his things without feeling like he would be upset with you. You usually hung out in his office while he handled business outside, in the main warehouse. 

“I’d very much like to show you off, beautiful,” he said. He caressed your chin and made you look up at him. Your eyes drifted over his features. His dark brown eyes, his pouty lips, and his wide nose. “I want everyone to get to know you.”

You nodded and swallowed around the lump in your throat. “What if they don’t like me?” You asked, your voice sounding small even to you. 

Kane scooted closer on the desk, so that your chin was nearly laying against his stomach. You blinked at him while he looked into your eyes, tone as serious as you’d ever heard him.

“What’s not to like, mama?” He asked. 

A flush of heat ran through you at his little pet name for you. But on topic. You smiled, not sure what to say. He already didn’t like you putting yourself down. But how could you make him see? Make him realize? That you just weren't like other people. That other’s opinions shouldn’t matter but they do. They always have.

“Talk to me,” he demanded. 

You huffed. “There’s plenty of things to like. But you’re…important,” you said.

Kane reared up as if he was getting ready to stand up and punch the wall. You placed your hands on his arms to keep him still, keep him sitting next to you. He smelled amazing. Like soap and sandalwood. His adorable mouth twitched.

“I’m not saying I’m not important. I’m saying that these guys look up to you. They respect you and follow you. And…” God, this shouldn’t be so hard to say. But it was pressing against your throat, a live thing, waiting to be said. 

“What if you should be with someone a little more like them? A little more like you?” You asked. 

Kane needed someone strong enough to stand in a crowd and not flinch. Someone who put others at ease and made them laugh. The kind of girl who didn’t take shit and the kind of girl who people didn’t confuse soft for weak. The kind that could help grow his gang, grow his empire, get them to look forward to something outside of slanging dope and getting bitches. 

Kane sighed. “I don’t want someone like me. I want you,” he said.

He would get tired, one day, of constantly trying to reassure you. Your shyness was your business. It wasn’t on him to make you feel better all the damn time. That was exhausting. But what was also exhausting, was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Kane to wise up and quit while he was ahead. 

You were looking down at your palms trying to find the words to make him see. Make him see that it only took a few months for you to be head over heels in love with him. With the safety he offered. The lifestyle. The loyalty. Kane wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for you. You needed the words to make him see that you would love to be with him for the rest of your life. But, he needed someone equally capable of taking care of him and you were big enough to admit that and give him an out.

Kane moved too quick for you to see, too quick for you to defend yourself as he lifted you from the seat and switched places with you. You leaned against the desk now, caged in by Kane’s arms on either side of the desk, on either side of you. 

He brought his face close to yours, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, his eyes to your eyes. “Tell me the words I need to say to make you see that it’s you and me against all this bullshit. Tell me what I need to say, what I need to do, who I need to kill to make you see, mama?” He asked. 

You shook your head. “Kane, that’s not–” 

“You are the only person I want. The only person I would ever want. You don’t have to worry about these niggas not liking you. I like you. That’s all they need to see. I don’t expect you to suddenly pick up a gun and be a down bitch.”

You giggled. You played with the hem of his shirt, kicking your legs a little bit. He didn’t need to reassure you but damn if it didn’t feel really good when he did. You smiled. “I don’t expect that either. I…you’re their leader. And they need a strong old lady too.” 

Kane chuckled. “You don’t think you’re strong? You almost dropped kick my ass when we met,” he said. His voice never sounded so sexy than when he was teasing or joking with you. You realized what a treat it was to hear him like this. To see the secret softie underneath all that hard living. 

“I had been drinking and you spilled the drink I just paid for,” you said, giving him a playful huff. 

Kane kissed your cheek once, twice, and then nuzzled his stubble against your cheek, just how you liked it. Your core burned so you shifted on the desk, to relieve some of the tension. 

“You called me everything under the sun you could think of. You get a potty mouth when you’re drunk,” he said. He licked your neck and your moan was too quick to be coy. You couldn’t pretend to be anything other than completely obsessed with this man. With his strength, with his playfulness, or with his jokes and smiles. 

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “That’s not true,” you said. Drinking just made you feel more like who you really were. Alcohol ensured that you didn’t care about doing the “right” thing all the time. You just lived. Outside of that, you were too conscious. Too aware. Too worried about someone making fun of you because people were fucking cruel. 

“Mhm, your girls tried to tell you ‘bout me but you just kept going. I’d never seen someone so beautiful,” he said. He reached the sensitive spot under your ear, against your neck, where he lightly nipped. You shivered, bringing your hands up and around his neck to keep him close. If he kept doing things like this, he’d make it impossible to let him go. 

“Kane,” you said, but it came out too breathless. 

Kane kissed his way back to your mouth where he spent ample time kissing you and licking your lips. “Tell me what I need to do, then. Please. I want you here, with me.” 

You sighed into his mouth, letting his lips do the talking for him. He didn’t get it. Wouldn’t ever get it. So while you kissed him, while your mind was supposed to be on him, you had an important decision to make. Walk away now or keep going and learn to live with this anvil over your neck. 

You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. Into his beautiful, wonderful eyes. The wave cop on his head. The teardrop tattoo. You wanted him. So badly that the brief thought about giving him an out was a distant memory. 

“I want to be here, Kane. With you. But are you sure? Like really sure that it’s me you want?” You asked. A sick part of you was waiting for him to say it. Waiting for him to change his mind about all of the questions you asked him, all of the reassurances you needed, all of the times you ducked out of doing something if it involved large crowds or places where the only person you knew was Kane. You didn’t want to hang onto him like a spider monkey, but he was the only safe person you knew while you were out.

Kane smirked. He kissed you again, letting his lips ghost over yours. He brought his hands up to cradle your face. “I’ll tell you every day that it’s you that I want. That you’re the only one for me. Think I wanna run behind these niggas at the end of the day?” He kissed down your neck, leaving you breathless in a matter of seconds. 

You shook your head. “No. You need a place to lay yo head, cut out the bullshit,” you said. 

“And that place is right here, with you,” he said. He brought his hands up to palm your breasts over your shirt. He found exactly where your nipples were, running his thumbs back and forth over them and driving you wild. Your pussy throbbed, getting unbearably wet. 

“Kane,” you moaned, dragging your hands across his back. You needed to feel his skin. Feel him. You searched under his shirt to find the heat of his body. Your nails scratched his back and he moaned against your skin. He moved his hands from your face, down to your jeans. He began to unbutton them, dragging the zipper down. It sounded so loud in between you both.

“Here? Now?” You asked. 

“Here. Now.” Kane kissed you again, while his hands slipped past your panties and found you wet. He moaned, his finger easily sliding between your folds. He zeroed in on your clit, gathering up your essence to rub until you were a quivering mess.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, holding on for dear life. Kane continued to kiss your neck, moving up to your ear. “You so fuckin’ sexy when you moaning, mama. You’re quiet, until you get like this. Shaking. Hmmm. Holding onto my hand between these legs like you don’t wanna let me go.” 

With his filthy words, you closed your thighs because he was only speaking the truth. You did not want to let him go. You wanted him closer. 

Your whines turned desperate, getting close to the edge if only he would let you fall. He pulled his hand back, moving down to your entrance and pushed one finger inside. You gasped for air, but you also began to cry, scooting your ass against the desk to get his fingers back to where you needed him. 

“Aww, you need something else, mama?” He asked. You nodded. 

“Talk to me, then. Tell me what you need from me,” he said.

“Kane, please,” you moaned. You were close. A few more moments of rubbing your clit and you would have came. 

“That don’t sound like what I want to hear,” he said. He moved his finger in and out of you, slowly. In a moment, your impending orgasm would go away. You were too greedy, too desperate to allow that to happen. 

“Kane, god, please!” You moaned. 

Kane licked your neck and you dropped your head back, giving him better access. He took the opportunity to nibble against your skin. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, biting hard enough to ache, and you shook your head. 

“I need you to rub my clit, Kane. Please. Please. I’ll do anything,” you said. You were weak for your man and you weren’t too proud to show it. You didn’t have the patience to draw this out like him. To play coy or confident or like you were that bitch. You just wanted him, plain and simple. 

“Anything? You gon’ cum on this dick and then come hang with my friends?” He asked.

You nodded, your neck aching since you still had it tilted back. “Yes, baby, I’ll cum on that dick,” you said. 

“And?” He asked, his hand stilling inside you.

You giggled. “I’ll come hang with your friends,” you said.

Kane grunted in satisfaction and then resumed fingering you. While his fingers were pumping into you, his thumb circled your clit. Your pleasure tingled through your veins, turning you to jelly. You clutched him to you, holding onto him and squeezing your thighs while you rode his fingers straight to an orgasm. 

You moaned and shook, twitching on Kane’s desk. The music was still thumping outside the door, the sound of Black folk having a good time rising like a tide. That’s what you loved about Kane. He made it seem like you were always in your own little bubble whenever you were together. 

“There’s my girl,” he moaned against your sweaty skin. 

He helped push your jeans further down your legs. You yelped from the cold of his desk hitting your ass. Kane made quick work of his own pants, pushing it down low enough to free his dick. 

You held him, held the velvety steel in your hand and tugged on his dick. Kane groaned, taking his dick out of your hands. You pouted and he winked at you. “Save that for later when I let you play with it,” he said.

You grinned as he lined himself up and pushed in without any fanfare. You growled, loving the sweet burn of his dick stretching you out. “Oh baby, feel so good baby,” you moaned. Kane nudged your face with his, catching your eyes with his. He stared into your eyes while you took him in, legs trapped by the fabric of your jeans.

He groaned, stroking into you. You clutched onto the back of his neck, holding him in place. “You think I’ma let you go and you do shit like this? You need me, huh?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yes, I need you, baby. You hit this shit so good,” you cooed to him. Your words made him jerk and he chuckled before finding his rhythm again. 

Kane’s strokes were exactly what you needed. You forgot about the party outside. You forgot about meeting his friends. You forgot your own name as he growled while he hit a spot that made you cry out. 

“I can’t let you go when you sound like this. When you feel like this. Taking this dick like you do,” he moaned in your ear. 

“Kane, oh god,” you moaned. 

“Beautiful. You’re so beautiful,” he moaned. He lifted one of your legs, sliding deeper and you growled in return, moving your hips in time with his thrusts. Kane kissed you while his thumb circled your clit again.

Your mouth dropped into a pretty little ‘O’ as your hands clutched his shirt in a death grip. Your orgasm was swift, brutal, punishing, as your eyes rolled back in your head and you screamed in his ear. 

Kane’s strokes increased, getting faster. You were still sensitive from your orgasm so you were crying, shaking, whimpering on his dick. A few pumps later, Kane found his own pleasure, grunting with deep relief as he spilled over and over inside of you. His dick twitched with each pulse of cum. He grunted once more, pulling out when he was softened enough. 

You felt his cum leak out and you shivered. Kane kissed you while he grabbed some tissue and cleaned the both of you up. 

“Why do you have tissue here?” You asked.

“I can’t sneeze sometimes?” He asked. You giggled. He was such a goof. You each got yourself together, kissing in between smoothing down your wrinkled clothing. Oh god. There was no way of walking out of here without everyone knowing exactly what you did. 

Although…a deep fucking was effective against your anxiety. His cum was inside of you and while that didn’t mean much to guys, it felt like he had claimed you in a beautiful, primal way. No one would know, but you would. You’d walk around his party knowing that he came looking for you. He reassured you. He pumped you full and let you cum twice now with promises of more later. 

Kane zipped up his pants and gave you a kiss. “Sometimes a nigga needs to rub one out while he’s missing his best girl,” he said against your cheek. 

You bit your lip, flustered and unable to form a thought. A sentence. A word. Something. Oh, this….this you did not know. You didn’t know that he masterbated here, at his office, to thoughts of you. It brought up so many ideas for later…

“Come on, a promise is a promise,” he said. He grabbed your hand, pulling you down the stairs. At the door, you stopped him. He lifted an eyebrow at you.

You leaned up and gave him one last, scorching, heated kiss before you looked at him. “Guess now would be a bad time to tell you that I stroke my pussy almost daily thinking of all the nasty things I want you to do to me,” you said.

Kane’s mouth dropped as you opened the door. A promise was a promise after all. The wall of music and laughter hit you square in the face. You were still nervous and you weren’t sure that they would accept you, but for now it didn’t matter.

The sound of Kane’s laughter was everything to you. “I’ma get you back for that,” he promised in your ear before leading you around the party, introducing you to his top guys. You managed to bump fists, laugh, and meet his world with open arms.

Did you know where your life would take you? No. But you had a feeling that you’d be okay in Kane’s capable hands.

The end.

There's more of Kane to love! The Secret Kane Files

[alleyesonrafah]

"

Help my family get out of Gaza.

Hello, my name is Fares Al-Malahi and I am from Gaza. I left my country 3 years ago, on May 27, 2021, and currently live in Belgium. Unfortunately, I had to leave my large and beautiful family of 5 members, consisting of 3 adults, my mother Jawaher, my father Talal, my sister Aya, and 2 children, my sister Raghad and my brother Khadr. I am now trying to help them evacuate from Gaza to Egypt, as conditions in Gaza become increasingly dangerous, life-threatening and uncontrollable.

Why so much money?

Unfortunately, the prices for evacuating people to Egypt are very high and that is why I need your help. The cost of evacuating an adult may reach approximately $10,000, while the costs of evacuating a child range between $1,800-3,500 or $2,000-5,000, according to different sources. I don't have the ability to raise this money on my own. (Keep in mind that these prices are not exact but are estimates as it is difficult to determine the exact amount to be charged)

!!! IMPORTANT: If there is any money left over after the evacuation of all family members, it will be used to provide necessary assistance such as food, household items, health products, etc. !!!

My family lived in the northern Gaza Strip before our house was bombed and completely demolished. Then they were displaced to the city of Rafah, south of the Gaza Strip. But Rafah is no longer safe, it was never safe, and the Israeli army is planning a ground invasion.

Since October 7, 2023, the IDF has been relentlessly bombing and invading the Gaza Strip, killing more than 30,000 Palestinians and wounding thousands more. Aside from civilian homes, everything, from religious and cultural sites to boarding schools and UN schools, has been and continues to be targeted. More than a million Palestinians were forced to flee from north to south, where they are exposed to constant bombardment. In addition, basic human needs such as food, water and shelter are extremely scarce.

The situation is terrible, which is why I am doing my best to help my family evacuate to a safer place, Egypt.

Please consider donating, and if you can't do so, share the donation link with your friends and on social media. A small donation or contribution from you can save innocent lives who are not at fault in this genocide.

Thank you, and may your heart be happy ❤" We live in a world where children have to beg strangers on an app just to survive... please, every dollar, every cent counts. They are running out of time

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Holding On for Dear Strife.

RAGH! GRAGH!

!!?

*SMASH!*

RAAWRR!

*WHAM!* *CRASH!*

GUGH!

*Nagito continues to fend off an onslaught of attacks from Matta! The masked monster slams onto the ground, then kicks the large debris towards him. Nagito obliterates the debris with a punch, but only in time to see Matta pounce at him and send him flying through another bark!

How incredibly disappointing...

RUUAGH!

*Nagito bursts up, rage in his grey and blue eyes. He lunges at his opponent, who bends over and laughs!

Hmhmhm...Come on then!

*SMAAASH!*

HEEE!

*POW!*

GUHUGH!

*When Nagito flies forward, Matta pounds the ground with both his fists! This causes a shockwave that turns up the ground and smashes into Nagito!

You claim that you’ve always seen yourself as worthless! But we both know you’re LYING to yourself!

*SHING!*

GRUGH!

*Nagito flips backwards as Matta brandishes a scimitar and nearly cuts him!

You were killing your family for YOUR DREAMS! You fought them relentlessly until your legs couldn’t hold you anymore!

*SHING! WHOOSH!*

RAGH!

*He dodges as Matta throws the sword.

You get a little taste of power, and you change! As soon as you realized there will be more than one Ultimate Hope out there in the world, you snapped. And the people you claim to love...PAID THE PRICE!

HRRAAGH! CHA CHA CHA HYAGH GAGH!

*Matta brandishes a variety of sharp weapons and flings them all at Nagito, who swiftly dodges and deflects them.

Hajime, Hiyoko and Teruteru’s deaths were a grave and terrible miscalculation! I never meant for any of them to die!

You decided to ally yourself with the world’s most dangerous terrorist organization, and you DIDN’T expect your friends to die or for places to be destroyed!?

*WHAM!*

URGH!

*SLAM!*

GUHUGH!

*KER-POW!* *SLAM!* *CRASH!*

GAHACK!

*Within fast, consecutive motions, Matta shoulder charges into Nagito, punches him in the gut then launches him into the air with his fists. He grabs his legs, slams him back down, throws him back into the air, then jumps and tackles him, sending them flying until they crash on top of a boulder. Matta, expressionless, grabs Nagito firmly by his neck and starts to choke him. The Ultimate Lucky Hope starts to gasp for breath.

So tell me why you believe these Ultimate’s you love oh-so much will even give you the time of day once you find them? You killed their family and destroyed their home! You’re a VILLAIN! Plain and simple!

GAAGHCK! AAAGH!

So tell me what I want...and the pain stops. What...do you...WANT...? What is your purpose!?

Why would I...gagh...tell that to someone who won’t show my his face!? What’s YOUR purpose, HAGH!?

Right now...my sole purpose...is KILLING YOU...

GRRRAAGGGH!

...!?

*SLAM!*

HAGH!

*WHAM!* *WHAM!* *WHAM!* *WHAM!* *WHAM!* *WHAM!*

*Nagito throws Matta off him, rolls over and pins him down, landing punch after punch on his metal face!

LEAVE!

*WHAAM!*

ME!

*WHAAAM!*

ALOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!

*WHAAAAM!* *CRAAASSH!*

*Nagito punches Matta with such ferocity, the boulder underneath them splits!

*pant!* *pant!* *pant!* Aagh...

WOOP!

WAAGH!

*SLAM!*

HAAGH!

*KER-WHAM!*

YAAGGAAGH!

*CRUMBLE!* *CRUMBLE!* *CRASH!*

*Nagito struggles to catch his breath in the cloud of dust and sand that follows the destruction, but isn’t able to in time for Matta to grab him by the waste and suplex him skull-first into the ground! He then reels back and kicks Nagito, sending him tumble-weeding along the ground until he smashes through another tree.

Ugh...ngh...

Struck a nerve, did I!? Is it because...you know I’m right?

Everybody thinks the same thing you know...Even your precious Seiko...None of this - NONE OF THIS! - would have happened, if you hadn’t defected!

Krgh!

Everybody wants it...You serve zero purpose...You should just DIE...!

KRRAAAAAAAAAAGGH!

*WHOOOF* *WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMM!*

BRRLAAGH!

*Nagito grabs the trunk of the tree Matta threw him through and smashes the masked man with it like it’s a baseball bat! The impact sends Matta flying until he smashes straight into a cliff face!

Let’s see how YOU like it!? CHOO CHOO!

RRGH!

*CRASH!* *CRASH!* *CRASH!* *CRASH!* *CRASH!* *CRASH!* *BOOOOOOOOOOOM!*

*Nagito aimlessly and wildly charges straight into Matta and sends him crashing through several trees and rocks in the compound! Matta continues to elbow his spine to break free, but Nagito doesn’t relent until they collide with a small cliff-face!

It’s not up to me to tell you how to do your job, but for an enigmatic assassin, you sure TALK A LOT!

*SMACK!* *SLAM!*

HMPH!

*KER-POW!*

GUUUGH!

*Nagito punches Matta in the face a few times, only for the creature to move so fast, he practically teleports behind him, then hit him with such a fierce punch, he becomes lodged in the cliff!

FFFRUAAAAUUUGGH!!

...!

*WHAM!* *SLAM!* *CRAASH!*

GRRRRGH!RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!!

*GRRUMBLRBLRBLRBLBRLBRLBLRBLBRLLBLRBBRLRBLRBLR!*

*Nagito bursts out of the cliff, slams into Matta and smashes his face against the tree! He smacks him in the face with his fist, splitting the trunk wide open! He grabs Matta by the face again, plants him on the ground and runs forward, dragging his opponent through the dirt, until he slams him back into the cliff! He then leaps up.

Ugh...Alright, that happened...

Nagito: HEY! MATTA!

Hm?

WATCH THIS! 

*SLAAAAAM!* *CRACK!* *BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!*

*Nagito, who leaps on top of the the cliff, stamps down on it so hard a large chunk of the face falls off at the top! It falls, and completely crushes and buries Matta underneath it!

Haaah...haaaaaah....gaaaagh...Crap...

.......*crumble* *RUMBLE!* CRUMBLE!* *RUMBLE!* *CRUMBLE!*

!!!!???

...I’m watching...

*Matta rises from underneath the avalanche and lifts the slab of cliff up above his head with one hand! He reels back and...!

*WHOOSH!* *KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!*

!!!???

*ZIP!*

*POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *POW!* *KER-POOOOOOOOOOWWW!*

!!!!???

*...throws it at Nagito, who is unable to dodge in time! Matta immediately follows up by casting out his grappling hook towards the airborne Ultimate Hope, and LAYS WASTE to him with a flurry if iron-fisted punches, finishing by knocking Nagito to the ground!

...Agh...aaaaah...

HMPH!

*WHAM!*

*Nagito’s vision goes hazy, and the ringing in his ears sounds louder than ever. But despite that, he still gets up, and once again squares down the horror in front of him, who tries to plant two fists into him before he catches him! The pressure around them rises and the ground begins to crack!

All I wanted was to simply do as I was tasked...AND for you to answer a question of mine, but NO! You HAD to get foolhardy with me! Dodging all my questions because you’re too afraid or can’t be bothered to answer!

Of course not! I’d rather just destroy you and be on my merry way!

It wonders me how you’re even able to see with your head so far up your rear! Have you seriously not realized it yet, Komaeda? You AREN’T wearing me down...I can’t feel ANY of this...!

WHA-!?

RRAAGH!

GUHGH!

*SLAM!*

*Matta spins around and throws Nagito across the ground again, kicking up tons of dirt and covering the Lucky Student in mud. Nagito scratches at the ground, dirt getting underneath his fingernails as Matta slowly draws towards him, brandishing his blade once again.

This fight was a foregone conclusion the moment it started. You can’t hurt a creature like me...You can’t even rely on Hope or tenacity of determination to keep going like the likes of Kuripa Kurafto can! You have NO OBJECTIVE of your own!

*COUGH!* Ngh...

*Matta condescendingly strides around Nagito and points his nose to the sky.

This fight is pointless...Your struggles are pointless...and your DEATH will be...POINTLESS! Hundreds of Ultimate Talents don’t save you from being a pathetic mess, who can only fall in line with that of what he narrow-mindedly believes the world wants...

I’m asking you, Nagito Komaeda...What...do YOU...WANT!?

...!

*Nagito suddenly feels a strange flash of emotion in the back of his mind...As Matta stares him down, he grasps at the ground beneath him, and while his body is on the verge of collapsing, he rises to his feet.

Why do I need...to justify my existence to you?

Hm...?

I’m alive...Even after everything I did, I’m alive, and I can still make it right! Whether or not I can doesn’t matter; I have a CHANCE!

What I WANT...is to make things right...but you know what?

I don’t NEED a purpose! I’ve made mistakes, many of which I will never be forgiven for, but that’s ok! There’s nobody I would rather be...than ME!

...!

So feel free to try and kill me here and now…But know…I will fight until my last breath...

Because I want to exist! Because I WANT TO EXIST!

...

Let’s finish this...GYALUSETSU!

Yes...You’re right...! HRRGGH!

COME ON!!!!

*WHOOOM!*

*Matta flies forward at an impossible speed, fist clenched and blade brandished, and Nagito stands there, preparing to take the hit and counter!

...

...Huh?

*The hit never comes however. Nagito, having shut his eyes to brace for the impact, opens them to see Matta’s fist right in front of his face, having stopped himself. Not only that, but his strength has depleted and his eyes have returned to normal color.

And that’s the end of that...Commendable, Nagito Komaeda...

*He dusts off his gloves and tries to wipe himself free of as much dirt and grime on his suit as he can. Nagito just stands there in confusion.

Wait, wait, wait! What’s going on!? Wh...Why did you stop fighting me? You were just trying to kill me a second ago!

I already told you...Tell me what I want...and the pain stops. Now, I have what I want.

You mean...the real reason why you started kicking me to the curb was...? Was that some kind of TEST!?

You finally understand. Talents...Hope...Reasons for needing to exist at all...all meaningless.

These ideals were created by humankind...NOT the other way around…People don’t need to justify their reasons for living...Hinata doesn’t...I don’t...And YOU don’t.

You wanted me to realize what it is I truly wanted...And you want me to strive towards it.

I thought redemption was impossible so I never tried; confining myself to Zetsubou’s evil because I thought there was nothing left for me. I thought these talents were a waste on me and that I had long strayed from the path of absolute Hope...

Even if that was true, nobody in this world, not even someone with my power, can stop you from finding that path again. 

*Nagito frowns at him.

So who’s side are you really on? You help my friends, then you betray them, now you’re helping me again?

As you’ve no doubt realized yourself, I strive for the things I believe in. I’m not comfy with Zetsubou, but for now, they’re useful to me, so I play along with their façade. But I will not abide by one being forced into a role as a hero or a villain, when your role in your life, is yours to choose. Such is the case for everyone.

And you wanted to make sure I saw that, right? It’s a shame it took me so long, but I get it now...An Ultimate Talent is nothing more than a stupid title that Hope’s Peak Academy gave their individual students just to make themselves seem like bigshots and the top dogs. It’s nothing more than a bunch of self-entitled losers telling children what they can and can’t be...And it’s wrong...It never meant anything.

Hmph...Wise words...I’m surprised they came from you.

They didn’t...Hajime once said those words to me…On the day that I left Jabberwock Island and came here...At the time I didn’t listen...I didn’t CARE...But now I know what he meant...

I’ve spent my whole life believing in the wrong things...Believing that Hope was the Ultimate Virtue and that talent was supreme but...I’ve spent my whole life making so many horrible mistakes...

Then spend the REST of it…fixing those mistakes.

You…

I am not Kuripa Kurafto, Komaeda. I believe that there’s always a way to go back, no matter how hard you fall, or how deep into the hole you go. We all have our own depictions of what Hope truly is…You’re determined to find yours…But let me tell you mine…

*Matta stries forward with his arms crossed behind his back. Nagito watches him.

Hope’s true form is not a shining light, or a heavenly gateway.

Hope is a man, standing in a desolate wasteland, blood on his face, dirt on his clothes and several broken bones. He’s so exhausted that he can’t even muster the strength to whisper words. There is nothing out there for him. No one to call for. No home to return to. Nothing. 

And yet despite all that, he searches. He gets kicked down again and again and again, but still searches .He loses the feeling in his body, is about to collapse into an eternal rest at any moment…He still searches...

So, Nagito Komaeda…How long will YOU search for...Until you find YOUR home...?

...

*Matta leaves Nagito alone with this question...

[tubby1]

Tubby Graffiti

What is tubby graffiti?

If you found this page, you may have searched for 'tubby graffiti 'tubby1 graffiti', and wondered about my tag or sticker. I created this page to show up on Google so there is less misinformation about me, and write more about the purpose of my tag.

I am a graffiti writer/urban explorer from Sydney, Australia. I primarily enjoy painting in 'hidden spots', like drainage tunnels and under bridges.

I got arrested several times within the span of a year or 2 for various charges of vandalism and trespassing. The last time I got arrested in Australia for vandalism, I was sentenced to do community service and I really didn't feel like doing much more graffiti in Sydney, because I kept getting caught.

But as it turns out, I am extremely thankful for the day I was arrested, because that day changed the course of my life forever.

My friend invited me to travel overseas with him, and I ended up travelling some of Asia and Europe with him. I didn't paint graffiti on these first trips or go anywhere off the beaten path, I just put up stickers and just enjoyed living happy and free, and doing as regular people do in their early twenties.

Later on another friend invited me to travel to India. This was my first time travelling to a 'non-touristy' place, and the catalyst for what made me want to drop everything and see the world as so much happened in just a couple weeks, and it ended up with us forgoing our flight to the party destination of Goa and instead going hiking in the Himalayas for 5 days and living among gypsies.

While it was great fun, I also saw huge amounts of poverty and visited the slums. This is really the first time I really saw things like that first hand.

When I returned to Australia, I realized that normal life would never quite feel the same. After getting restless, I ended up selling my car, getting rid of most of my belongings, packing what I needed into a duffel bag and setting off to see the world and write graffiti.

It started off as just fun and games. Backpacking through Asia and Europe, staying in hostels, meeting other travellers, while also writing graffiti and just enjoying life.

As I travelled more, I started seeing more and more in the way of poverty, crime, economic disparity, etc...

When you are painting graffiti in a country which doesn't really have a graffiti scene, it often strikes up conversations or even altercations.

I would always talk to people and they would always ask me 'what is the purpose of the graffiti.' I didn't really have an answer, I just said it was a fat, happy character.

I would eventually start painting countries which are advised as 'do not travel' places, and painting graffiti in these countries would start getting increasingly dangerous, and I would see the effects of war, meet refugees, meet many people just trying to survive in atrocious living conditions.

It would begin to feel distasteful, me just being a tourist, going to these places of extreme poverty with terrible living conditions to write graffiti for a couple days and move on to the next place.

Sitting at 94 countries at last count, I still have not completed even half when it comes to the goal of 'visiting every country in the world'.

About half of the countries left are in the African continent.

I have analysed the list and possibility of visiting every country in the world, and a large portion of what I have left to visit are countries which are considered extremely dangerous/in war/very bad political situations.

At the moment I am not travelling due to real life catching up with me and having a child.

I do not intend to visit all 197 anywhere in the near future, but I do intend to spend a few more months when I can travel again and eventually write a book about the complex social-economic and geopolitical issues which face our world.

My graffiti doesn't really benefit anyone, and is relatively pointless. All my stickers and tags will fade or get painted over, and in a while it will be as if I was never there.

If there is one thing I wish to leave behind, I wish to write and spread awareness about the world issues I have seen first hand. I want to share my views and write about the good and bad I have seen. Unless you see the bad, you can't really appreciate the good.

I'm from Sydney, Australia, a place which consistently ranks as one of the best places to live in the world. I have a passport which allows me to travel to most countries without difficult visas/invitation letters. I come from a place of privilege which allows me to travel with ease.

No one chooses where they were born and I don't want to waste the advantage I was born with, so I will endeavour to write a book and tell the stories of what I've experienced and the things I've seen.

[tathrin]

Hey what are you doing ith Legolas and GImli in your sw au?

Oh no why are you asking me about this again I was going to be productive today I am a liar thank you for being interested in my absolute nonsensical osik. Okay, here are my notes, a little fleshed-out for clarity because I short-handed a lot while I was trying to get this out of my head so I could go to sleep:

Legolas is one of the Rangers of Toprawa, which was bombed into "savagery" by the Empire generations ago, shortly after the Jedi were wiped-out in the Purge; unlike most planets that have suffered this sort of treatment by the Empire they are not forgotten by the wider galaxy, however, but have passed into a sort of boogyman-story status, because every now and then someone will run across a Ranger who got off Toprawa and said Rangers are fucking weird in that just-bizarre-enough-to-be-almost-plausible way that stories and rumors really love talking about (and exaggerating). It's all "spacer's tales" that aren't really believed, but...well. Spacers are a superstitious lot, aren't they? So: the Rangers of Toprawa. Some people don't even believe they exist ("surely the Empire has wiped them out by now!") but regardless of whether they're believed to be real or not, they are considered "less wise" than people from civilized planets, and also "more dangerous." The state of their homeworld contributes to this, too.

For the Empire has long kept a dark base on Toprawa, a place for twisted experiments and torture: Dol Guldur Base. (Perhaps Admiral Khamûl will be the officer in charge; perhaps it will be Admiral Daala, or Derricote?) Its noxious emissions leave a constant pall upon their once-lush forest world, and the Empire has not fire-bombed the planet to kill the surviving Rangers only because they A: do not know how many of them there actually are (or they might be more worried), and they B: like having them as potential subjects to capture for their experiments, and as training for their troopers to hunt in the woods…but the Rangers hunt back. (This is also a source of the stories, because stormtroopers gossip too. And when you make it back from a deployment on the Scary Weird Forest World Where The Terrible Imperial Experiments That You Don't Have Clearance To Know The Details Of Aren't The Scariest Things Out There, you talk about it. To your fellow stormtroopers, if no one else; but stories leak, stories spread. And the Rangers are creepy enough to be fun to talk about, even if you don't really believe they're real.)

There was intermarrying between the Rangers and the Jedi they worked alongside for centuries, and the Rangers all have varying degrees of low-level Force Sensitivity now. Many of them (again, see: intermarrying; they're a mixed group) are a near-human species called Silvans, or at least have a lot of Silvan ancestry (it is in fact more than likely that the "Silvan species" known today is a result of generational mixing between humans and some other species, or more than one; due to being confined on Toprawa for the last four hundred years, and thus subjected to a comparatively small reproductive pool—not enough for inbreeding dangers, thankfully, not until the Empire decides to kill a lot more of them—they've become a largely homogenized species or sub-species of their own.) Silvans are tall and slender and agile, at least compared to bog-standard humans, with pointed ears and sharp teeth and heightened senses (some of which is due to their species and some to their connection to the Force).

They favor ranged weapons and ambush attacks, but are adept at hand-to-hand and melee fighting as well. They prefer their home-built bowcasters over normal blasters (they've become adept at scavenging Imperial technology, because that's all they've got), because they are more accustomed to them; they require greater strength and accuracy to wield properly than plain blasters do (which they consider crude in comparison) but are capable of longer range accuracy and tighter shots with less charge (because they can only scavenge power packs from Imperial weapons so they have to be prudent with their ammo). They also cannot be set for stun—more dangerous, remember!

Legolas's parents are insurgency leaders on Toprawa. Haven't decided how/why he gets off-world yet; perhaps we'll give him a sort of Force Vision al la Faramir and Boromir's dream? Or perhaps Aragorn comes to Toprawa seeking something, and picks him up there. Regardless, he's not been off-world long when he ends up pledging loyalty to Aragorn (Rangers help the Jedi, remember! He'll be very excited to find the Jedi still exist, but not surprised; some on Toprawa have given up hope, but he's young and optimistic and always believed there had to be Jedi still out there somewhere) so we get to have the fun of him Reacting To Commonplace Things With Confusion And Shock because he grew up on the feral forest-world.

Gimli is a Mandalorian, of the Dwarrow species. Shorter, sturdier, stouter, and more heavily-muscled than human standard, they have a knack for mechanics and weaponry and are very clan/family oriented, which makes them a people who would be naturally inclined towards Mandalorian culture even before the Old Wars that saw their homeworld sacked and almost wiped-out and the survivors scattered, homeless, across the galaxy. Gimli knows some of the techniques for working with beskar, but he's not a master armorer; he might follow that path someday, but for now he's young and eager to explore the galaxy and it's been a while since he went home to the family forge and farm, although he talks about his large family a lot. He keeps his hair and short beard braided tight against his skin beneath his helmet. He's a member of the True Mandalorian faction from the moon of Erebor, the Lonely Mountain clan.

The Mandalorians and the Rangers of Toprawa do not get along and never ever have, because the Mandalorians used to fight the Jedi a lot which meant they fought the Rangers too; some Mandalorians even helped the Empire assault Toprawa in the Purge, although that was Death Watch of Nogrod, not the True Mandalorians of Erebor. (As Gimli will repeatedly point-out, because no one hates Death Watch more than other Mando'ade, no matter what certain pointy-eared woodland chakaare might claim. This will be a source of contention initially, but eventually one of bonding, once Legolas realizes that Gimli actually means it when he growls about lopping the head off every Death Watch member he can get his hands on with his beskar-and-cortosis axe, and Gimli admits that maybe Legolas isn't being dismissive of his hate for Death Watch just because Legolas's people also hate the folks who, you know, helped slaughter them.) They will be immediately suspicious of one another's intentions and will assume THE WORST in pretty much every interaction for the first several months.

They will both end up following Aragorn, in Legolas's case because "Rangers of Toprawa have always aided the Jedi; I cannot do less than my ancestors. Your cause is mine, Aragorn!" and in Gimli's case, because he initially got hired to help with a specific part of the mission and then quickly decided that yes, he was all-in on this insane quest, this is great, he's having the best time of his life, and "a Mandalorian does not go back on a job; our word is our honor, and I'll see this through if it kills me. Besides, to fight alongside a true Jedi? What more glorious cause than that! Our greatest defeat came at the hands of the Jedi Warrior Revan. If you mean to get between me and my chance to fight with a legend like that, Silvan, you'd better be prepared to meet me in battle for the right to stand at his side, because faithless is he that says farewell before the battle has been won—!" and arguing about which one of them "deserves" to be there and which one should OBVIOUSLY LEAVE and Aragorn will be like "omg can you PLEASE just shut-up and work together for ten minutes so we can overthrow the Empire and kill the Sith and no I didn't mean start kissing wtf is wrong with both of you kriff I hate this prophecy why is this my life…"

I realize I talked more about Legolas than Gimli, but that's because I had to invent a whole backstory for blending Toprawa and Mirkwood, while "Gimli's a Mandalorian" pretty much contains all the background detail I need to know for him, because I know exactly what that means in my head without elaborating further, but I tried to put a few more of those details in here before I posted it, so hopefully there's enough for folks to follow-along. But if not and you've still got questions, let me know. I am both horrified and delighted to talk about this more, thank you and curse you all (affectionate).

Also I'm keeping links to all the posts I make on this ridiculous au collected here, if you want to see any more rambling about it.

[the-firebird69]

We have a huge number of things going on and we will get to them now or in a moment

Thor Freya

These people are massively annoying and their son and daughter just ignoring them and it's because we have to do the job and it's the right thing to do but they're dangerous and he expressed it today so we're going to start taking his people out here I really appreciate him saying that I have a moment to speak and he talked to her for a couple times I want people to team up with me and get rid of this jerk and the other one too and the other one they're wasting time and it's very valuable I'm going to put how many minutes they wasted this month or hours even I mean it's just terrible and we really don't have time for it

Zig Zag

And we thank him and he is our father and she is our mother and her friends and relatives to some but we will now announce what's going on and I'm sending people to help them and it is a trial watching these two people screw around with him they're very sick of it so he did a few things today to make sure that it wasn't going to happen again

-you started taking their money away every single penny here we noticed that too our son wanted to tell John Rena Lord but the phones are taking the money out of the bank and he didn't want to hear it cuz he actually get in trouble and he doesn't think he gets in trouble by bothering her son he's a moron okay he didn't tell him a million times and show him a million examples and the stupid a****** still won't get it so we're going after him I'm going to lay him well and then take him apart.

-it's a very large number of people who want to get rid of John greenbelord and company and for good reason they want the money and we keep mentioning that he has a ton of money because he sold all the stock and he had like 95% of it we made a lot of money means that it's a lot of money it's a lot more money than we can seemingly Express it's thousands and thousands 10,000s of millions of octillions it's way way up there and into the area where half of it might not even be real because it's too much money and the businesses that we purchased are not producing as much because so many people died that's another thing too that the businesses were sold to us as the population was declining and is hoping that the economy would be ruined and didn't do anything we reduced production and our prices are very cheap and we're not stupid like he thought. He's going to be up on charges of espionage being a traitor to his kind and he should be he's trying to say he's helping and he had his arm back was driving a pickup truck by in like 5 minutes or less and he had her do it and we couldn't believe it no we could and sometimes it grows differently but you know it's on some sort of growth hormone is a piece of crap even though he might be with a symbian. She has a ton of money and we're going to make sure that people know about it I'm going to advertise it by posting it here in other places

-we have a huge personal score to settle with this idiot but there are a lot of things happening and punta Gorda Port Charlotte county Florida in the world one of them is there's a lot of money on the line this assholes in the way of commerce and it's economic terrorism and he's being brought up in charges right now in court in front of people and for murder it doesn't take much of it because it seems to be very stupid now he's starting to sweat a little and he sees that he's getting arrested a lot and he's not blaming our son right now. He's looking around the courtroom and he's trying to think of what to say and they're reading charges there's a list about 20 charges up to 19 and the stopping and they're saying we've registered them all and you may be seated and he's just sitting there looking around so he's going to probably go to prison and hopefully it's Cool hand Luke and exposes that area and what was happening and Stan was not guilty of those crimes and some of those people may have gone through it and he wants to know about it

-there's a few other crimes and other things going on that this guy's getting arrested for but here in punta Gorda the police are firing the remaining for police people and they don't want the reputation and their crap nobody cares and they asked around they said to keep them on for a ride or something and said no instead of people want them on there they said not really they're just running around terrorizing us has cops me right complaints everyday and reports every day like he does nothing happens so I said okay so they released them from duty same with the sheriff and they're telling him what he's locked up

-there's a lot of other people here in the other happenings there's a lot of agencies that are defunct now because people are jerks and we're screwing people over and didn't care if they were caught and it's just really bad business is what they call it and we do too not that we break the law we're just bring it in terrorists but these agencies are shrinking one of them is Florida law enforcement went through some gyrations today but the Max and others were going through actual generations and they fired and laid off another $20,000 of them leaving $15,000 these guys are starving for affection an attention and ran around threatening the crap out of everyone and they were at the mall being dicks the whole time and it's been going on for several years and finally someone stood up and said get them the hell out of here and it was not mac. And this continued on and people were listening to him and see idiot and he had no idea what he's talking about. And Garth is on TV and he's a little kid and a little girl want to know why and it said people can see all that and it said yeah they beat you up after the show every time it's me and how can they tell it's me he asks they ask you and you said to you and you're arrogant and they beat you to death. So he says I want to go home nobody's watching out for me I'm on my own and since you're treating our son like that and you shouldn't and you get beat up for it and he keeps saying you're not stopping me said we're not going to devote energy to something we don't care about then he said tell him he's dead so we hear you saying tell him we put a bounty on him and said dead or alive and we prefer dead and we sent it out and he died and in question you said I said tell him he is and he said kill him again so the guy keeps dying and we don't care you're almost gone you're stupid and showed him all these people of his dying in front of him and he didn't seem to care so we're just going to keep doing it nice people are a bunch of asses. But the other agency I actually the law enforcement people Florida law enforcement reduced to 15,000 and later in the day 10,000 and they were so boisterously loud and angry and hateful they went back to the office found the 10,000 and tell them all while they're in police vehicles the Florida law enforcement agents and those particular police arrested 500 of them and kept on going they brought in about 2,000 idiots finally they said this idiots are not going to stop doing this I'm trying to defend ourselves and they won't shut up. And there's there are 15,000 so they said we're going to make it dragnet and we're going to haul them all in and see why they're so stupid they hauled them all in there questioning them scanning them testing their blood asking them what they been doing and find out they're all on some kind of drug it's meth so they're going to go after the meth and it's really what it is makes people stupid and John remillard is doing it next door and they're both very stupid they're horribly horribly dumb so it's one of the reasons why they're so idiotic but the Florida law enforcement agency is brought down to 10,000 from $15,000 earlier today

-later on today the Florida law enforcement agency started to crack about an hour ago and those 10,000 made of dragnet try getting beat up by everybody and are getting chased out of the office and their uniforms are getting taken their vehicles and people driving around is them doing crimes and I never coming back

-the Florida highway patrol had 35,000 people the other day and today was reduced to $25,000 the similar thing happened but they're driving around on the highway chasing each other all day long finally the 25,000 left said we need to drive that and started pulling in tons of them about 50,000 later $100,000 and they said how many of you are there that's it for each cop that's like 200 US just like everybody so they did the math they said it's not that bad and really it is it's 2 million people. So calling for help to see if the sheriff could arrest them with them and it said not really so they're going nuts and they're doing it and they have to rest 100 people each which is about true it's a little less like 80 people and a sense is just 80 people each so you have to deputize your people temporarily make sure it's temporary or you'll probably get impeached and they said okay so they deputies are people and they got up like 1.9 million and almost there and someone said there's a whole batch of them coming here and they called for military backup and said they're attacking your area too and they got wiped out and now those $25,000 think they're doing great so they're hitting and taking the restroom down 100,000 and they went down easy and the stuffed them all in the prisons and they're disappearing and also they hear this in the radio you guys did a great job now I have to come after you what you doing is illegal it was Mac and said how did you learn how to do that and he said that this guy deputized people who said temporarily so we wouldn't get in trouble and it says well you have to take them off deputy list so I don't know this time so max is a picture of Chris with the red hair and let them off a little and the highway patrol left happy and they're at the houses and it's probably not going to be great but that's how many people there were and they did check and it was a little bit more than that and it would hog wild a little later and it takes a lot of work but they said but we can get it done and so they had to do it because they're getting blamed and they wouldn't shut up so wondering what makes them sick and so aggressive and our sense is just simply cannot drink the water you can't drink it at all and I shouldn't be showering that long and you have to boil everything it's a hormone and it said what hormone this is something in the water from whatever is below here it's making everyone nuts and I have some way of dealing with it my body does so they look and there's something in the water and it's a hormone and it's very potent so I'll stop drinking the water and they think they'll be fine but they are in trouble for deputy dozen people but you had him do it so they let him off on that and we'll probably happen is this more than two million people and that's probably true. Now there's a whole bunch of people who are in trouble for doing that kind of thing no

-50,000 people and millions and then several activity from the north and south and more we're attacking today and to the tune of about 80 octillion people they're all dead and it affected leadership they were 3,200 this afternoon it's down to 3,000 there were about 20% left this afternoon around 4:00 p.m. and they kept attacking and now there's about 15% government employees left. Now that's very low that's not many coming employees it is a serious reduction in Florida and globally it came down to 75% out it is a huge number and 3,000 of the local higher-ups really means that the government in DC is reduced as well I have the two houses there's about 800 people the Senate and the Congress and the cabinet has about 1,000 and we're getting down to those people and it's only 1,200 people away. And it's starting to realize that. And they're not reacting accordingly they're complete jerks they're acting very stupidly and John got arrested for his crimes but you've had never would happen and our son said you're doing it yourself was ridiculous behavior. And that's what it is

This afternoon they had a problem with the sheriff at about 6:30 and we are doing something else he came around to this location and start making accusations that our son set him up to be murdered by his wife's sister and said were you murdered he says no did the police come and arrest you says yes do you think that you're murdered because the police came and arrested you for your crimes so he said no then why the hell would I be trying to have you murdered by sheriffs perhaps and said no by my wife said so what she's trying to kill you for your program everybody knows that and it's a s***** program I don't care you're trying to kill her so you going to be arrested cuz people knew it on the bus. So you got a little nervous and drove out and the cops were there and they heard him mumbling I don't care if he's accusing me I'm trying to hurt her and they said this and they pull them over who you talking to you realize we listen to the thing and you think it was stupid because we're pulling you over because you're going to get arrested why is that every time you go to prison you get closer to being cremated instead that's why I said it doesn't really work that way if you get cremated you can't do anything so so the guy says this how would I know that I've never been cremated so they pull them out and pull this badge off okay well he didn't get out yet but still these things that need to happen

-there are other things that happened here in Port Charlotte and punta Gorda and one of them is we had a huge problem with traffic this week and it's been way over the top there's way too many people driving around and people try to stop them and it can't they try something from coming here they can and it's like 5,000 people driving all over town and don't do anything people just get in drive around and it sucks have someone seen it before too and they know what they're doing they're trying to get people used to excess traffic and trying to say don't pay attention to it now we are and they are and we're going to just start grabbing you and your cars.-his assistant saying why it's because you're trying to transport nuclear devices and other bombs and other explosives to try and rig the place and as you do it you're pointing out stuff you rigged and it's been taken out or it's being taken out and you keep doing it

-there's a huge number of people wondering why you're so stupid but we don't want to explain that we're busy there are other agencies that are falling and you wouldn't know unless we told you the department of health organization which is outside of the State department of health and Federal department of health have fallen completely and the police have been disbanded and they're running around like maniacs trying to get our son into the hospital and we're putting them in the hospital or the morgue as a result and I've sent out orders and people see them there to be arrested immediately

-there's a few other things happening these people are trying to screw around with this constantly and we are rejecting what they're doing and I can't stand them and I can't stand looking at them and they keep on asking for trouble just television show and sign mystery and it's a cop show and the several stars on there from a particular movie and it's not sweetie Todd that's a famous film it's kind of a monster film and it's kind of lame but it's important cuz it starts the mob full films off and it's having trouble placing what it's from it's like the Bronx tale it's kind of cheesy it might be West side story and he says that is very appropriate and he likes it because theye'll be mincemeat. Social prelude to Dr Octavio and that exposes the Zion small tanks which exposes the larger Cameron and the humongous one which is full of The matrix it's actually where it's filmed it's not actually in Australia

-the several other things happening here there's a few agencies that people are not watching that are becoming disbanded one of them is the department of fisheries and wildlife law enforcement and it was under the Florida law enforcement and they changed it and there was like 10,000 agents left today and they went ahead and they stopped them from banding together and start picking them all off. And they started resting them and they started to take them in he's trying talking about what's going on he said you people are the good guys you're doing it right and can't wait to keep doing it we have bombs and they said we'll show it will show you where they are and it showed some and they were there real bombs they got a whole bunch of it out of them and there's a bunch of out there where the Army is getting shot up and it's like chaos and you can't see it set the scan after every battle and it's going to be in pain but that's what they got to do and go ahead and started that today it's a big mistake on their part because they're going to scan all over the place and they're going to detonate some devices and the people will be dead and it's going to happen

-giant numbers of people see this guy John remillard will not shut up to our son at all so they're helping and the rest of them and getting rid of their people finally and taking the money tons of money cuz of his stupid mouth

-we also started smoking them for sticking his face in ours we got rid of a lot of them

-there's a giant number of things happening here and we touched on a few and we're going to come back in a moment and post so we don't lose this

Thor Freya

Zues Hera

Olympus

[mysaldate]

Church of Light, Mauler Temple, and the characters associated with them – Part 1

I thought I was done with all the stuff I had to say regarding the Church of Light, Mauler temple, Antandra, Lucius, and Belinda, but apparently I still have more thoughts on the matter. So here’s a more detailed breakdown of why I think the AFK lore is amazing and nuanced and why I don’t think a single character in the Church of Light or outside of it is objectively morally correct or wrong. And why I don’t think Antandra is as much of a moral authority as people seem to like to think of her. But let’s take it one by one.

This is gonna be a long post, so I’ll be putting it under Keep reading.

Church of Light

The Church of Light sucks. That’s once consensus we can all agree on. It’s corrupted and terrible and absolutely doesn’t deserve to hold any sort of moral high ground over anyone at all. But regardless, it exists, and the general idea behind is not an evil one. CoL is meant to guide humans to humility and to enforce peace and prosperity with the help of celestial magic. They take in orphans, give them education, jobs, and some stability in life despite them not having families. Outside of the church, the only other organization we now of that sort of does something similar is the Violet Orphanage. But where the VO focuses on forcing children to enter life-threatening situations to bind to demonic powers, CoL raises children in the presence of the divine and allows them to grow their own connection to it at their own terms. Furthermore, CoL roots out demonic cults and violent groups across the Lightbearer Kingdom that could, and often do, threaten the peace of the common people. They track their origins to the first worshippers of Dura and the celestials during the first Hypogean war, and they strive to give hope to people and allow them to live in faith that something or someone is watching over them. All in all, the general idea behind CoL is a noble and good one. It’s just that, much like everything ran by imperfect people, it got horribly perverted over time.

As things stand, CoL is a horribly misguided organization. This is an important detail because I don’t actually believe most of CoL members are malicious or causing suffering on purpose, even though I agree that the people in charge probably are terrible and disgusting and deserve to be wiped off the face of Esperia. Their first crime would be how overly careful they are. Someone who hid a criminal is not necessarily a criminal but the chance is always there, and for the CoL, even that chance is too big a risk. In a way, I believe this comes from a place of fear. They know how easily humans are corrupted, and thus they don’t trust the local authorities to deal with violent dangerous criminals on their own, and they don’t believe they would put them trough honest trial either. Just the possibility of a violent criminal escaping justice thanks to their money or talking skills or just because they don’t seem like they would be one of those people is too much of a risk for CoL to take, and it is really not that hard to see why.

The church protects people and connects them to the gods. That’s their entire purpose and the reason for their existence. It’s only natural for people to try and justify their own importance in the world, to try and prove that they are needed. Now, should this ever come at the cost of purposely creating enemies and ruling with fear and iron fist? Of course not. But at the same time, you can’t blame an organization based around protecting an insanely large amount of people for being careful and trying to eliminate potential threats as soon as possible. Sure, the people hiding the cultists may not be a part of the cult now but if they were left alive, they might decide to continue the work of said cult, sewing more evil and distress to society.

Another thing that I think doesn’t get brought up enough is that there is a place within the kingdom where CoL has close to no influence. That place is the city of Rustport. And far and wide, it is known as a hellhole of chaos where you will get robbed or murdered in broad daylight if you’re not careful or powerful enough. Anything from petty crimes through illegal alchemy to slave trade is on the market here and the absolute freedom is terrifying. The survival of the fittest is the only law that applies here, only further highlighting the importance of CoL for the kingdom. Twisted as it may be, CoL provides stability. The good priests and priestesses shine as beacons of light, hope, morality, and humanity while also teaching others to be humble and considerate, and supporting the ruling power’s laws.

Mauler Desert Temple

The Mauler society has a very different set of rules and codes than the human-based Lightbearer kingdom, and what more could we really expect? The Maulers are a people who were treated less than poorly, and were nearly slaughtered by their own creators before they decided to fight back for their lives and honor, and both of those remained a huge part of their culture ever since then. Maulers are a tribal society that has very little in terms of centralized structure. There is the Mauler Chieftain who can order the other tribes to unite against a common threat but such alliances inevitably fall apart when the Chieftain dies. The only other constant across all the Mauler tribes are the voodoo priests working for the Desert Temple.

The Desert Temple, much like CoL, has many roles and comes from a very good place. It heals the sick, it provides support and wisdom to the fighters. It can help settle disputes in a non-violent way in a culture that is very much based around violence. And unlike CoL, it has a deep understanding of both life and death and a great respect for both, that can clearly be seen in its practices. The game even directly tells us that voodoo magic is one of the oldest forms of magic that exist in Esperia, one that is not bound to a god or an element but rather one that is innately a part of the world and that allows itself to be seen and used only by those who are familiar with and respect the natural order of life and death. Even the Wilders were not able to tap into it, and it might be because they chose to run to save their lives rather than to fight for them and embrace the possibility of dying for the cause they considered right. Furthermore, DT has proven itself as the helping force to drive back calamities and natural disasters, with its members willing to put down their lives to protect or help others. However, even here we see many imperfections.

As with most things with Mauler society, DT is inevitably based around usefulness. If you aren’t useful to the temple, you aren’t welcome in it. If you are a burden, you are better off dead. Emotions aren’t useful, only raw power is. The temple demands children from many tribes be sent there to serve as temple warriors from a very young age, and then trains them to only be loyal to the temple. In the process, they strive to destroy their empathy and stun their emotional growth, essentially crippling them in that regard. This is one of the reasons why Antandra never hesitated to kill someone she grew up with for something she considered the right thing to do. These children are raised as killing machines, doing simply what the temple tells them, or what the temple instilled in them as the “right” and the “just” causes. It demands blind obedience though, especially from the temple warriors themselves. Antandra gets banished not because she killed but because she drew her blade without an order. The DT is authoritarian and absolute and doesn’t allow for any free will.

Sadly, we don’t have nearly enough lore on the Maulers as a whole to talk about a place without their influence to see whether they have some wider role in the society like CoL does, but a lot is likely going to come with the promised artbook. Until then, I will go off the note that nearly all the tribes seem to have deep-rooted respect for the temple. Aside from the Chieftain, the temple really seems to be the only thread connecting the wild and untamed Mauler society and possibly to be the only organization capable of making it work closely together, although they are yet to properly use this power of theirs. Or perhaps it is good that they didn’t yet. The religious zealotry that CoL pursues would end up devastatingly when combined with the Mauler temperament and sense of honor, so perhaps a part of their role is making sure the religious tensions never reach such an insane high. All of this is just pure speculation though.

I could go on and on and talk about all the characters in a single post as well but this is already getting long and Tumblr text editor has horrible delays on posts of this length, so we’ll end part 1 of this massive analysis here. I might post the next part tomorrow or later or I might not get to it at all but I needed to get at least this first part off my chest. I hope you enjoyed my ramblings and I’m looking forward to seeing you at the next one!

[lakesbian]

i think one thing that's important to note abt alec's supervillainy--in addition to the fact that he's doing it for fun because "fun" is the most positive emotion he can generally hope for out of life--is that he was raised in a cult which superheroes, time and time again, failed to do any damage to, let alone rescue children from. his childhood was centered around The Family, father specifically, as end-all-be-all, the thing you're supposed to live and die for. being pushed into various crimes, things that were, as he put it "dangerous or hard on my conscience," was (among other things) coaching to see the outside world as an enemy. the moral of his childhood was that he is terrible, he does terrible things, he does not have a choice not to be terrible because he is a vasil, and if normal society caught him he would be harshly punished like any other vasil.

(i think this is specifically the crux of the "dangerous things" he vaguely mentions being forced to do--increasingly escalating crimes which are dangerous to him & frame him as an enemy of the outside world that must successfully harm + evade it to be allowed to return to the safety of the home. some 'no going home until you've successfully robbed this drug den belonging to a rival team or beat the fuck out of this hero' type shit.)

subsequently: if you're alec, and you're 13, and you just ran away from your batshit sexmurder cult, is it going to occur to you to walk up to the nearest hero and go "excuse me i am a homeless child with the world's most abusive father actively hunting me down may i have some help," or are you going to think of the one million murder and rape and kidnapping and burglary charges you probably have against you and assume that being a villain is quite literally your only option for escape and survival? superpowered teens don't get community service for their crimes, they get groomed into being another cog in a a regimented and deeply traumatizing system of policing. why would he want to reach out to the heroes his primary experience w/ is knowing how they failed to help him + knowing they would likely want to prosecute him? the idea of approaching any form of legal system for aid would have sounded utterly ridiculous to him for a number of reasons at this point in his life--of course he fucked off to rob a few gas stations so he would have money to eat and find a place to stay instead. and then of course that spiraled into being an undersider and having vague dreams of being more famous and successful than his father, because it's the next best thing to getting to punch him in the dick.

anyway, all of that is to say: being regent is the only life he has. the only option he feels he has. skitter could go home and become taylor again, even if being taylor sucks, and grue could go home and become brian again, even if being brian sucks, but alec and regent are more or less the same person and also the only person he is allowed to be. he refuses to be jean-paul, so he's alec and regent instead. he refuses to be a heartbroken, so the undersiders is the closest thing to a family he has. (interesting sidenote on that--whereas taylor slips further and further into referring to the undersiders only by cape name, in his interlude he largely refers to them by civilian name, even when referencing them using their powers/being on the job.) his costume demonstrates his desire to fade into the background, to make people underestimate him so that he can be regent in peace (flowy, nonthreatening over-shirt concealing the armor underneath, ostentatious scepter as a hidden taser), but the main reason it's not scary is that it's not an act he's putting on--it's just him.

it's just him, who does what he has to do to get the job done and no more or no less, him who hates waiting around for stake-outs and likes affectionately calling his friends "dork," him who wants to take the money from the robbery home and buy a pizza and a fancy couch to eat the pizza on and a movie to watch while he eats the pizza because he's tired of not being allowed to have nice things. it's a playful persona only in the sense that he is a person who thinks playful, flamboyant personas are fun: he makes his voice artificially deep so he can imitate grue while joking to skitter. he waves an arm around and narrates his silly imaginary dramatic soap-opera scenario to his team while they walk to a meeting. he interrupts a kidnapping to scare the piss out of his team leader with a play-pretend joke.

he's a criminal for a living, too--it's the only life he has--it's just that he'd really like if his life could be fun and pretty and not too difficult and unabashedly him, for once. and the way his costume scans more as playing dress-up than as trying to intimidate anyone reflects this perfectly.

anyway. in another life he's a theater kid.

Something else about Alec—when we first see him on the field, he’s remarkably less intimidating than the other Undersiders, with a costume much less fear-inspiring and more straight-up gimmicky. I’ve talked about the Undersider’s costumes before, but one of the subtler differences between Worm and more “traditional” superhero media is how the villains’ costumes and personas often don’t have the same level of camp to them that comic villains do. There’s much more focus on practicality, where the only thing that matters aesthetically about a costume is that it communicates “don’t fuck with me.” Every hero in worm has a detailed, practical-yet-aesthetically-pleasing costume, but you run into villain capes with no costume or only the bare bones of one all the time. Rachel’s dressed like a horror movie slasher, Brian doesn’t bother with more ornamentation than an intimidating helmet. Lisa looks the part of your Saturday-morning villain, but she’s more invested in doing that than most because her cops-and-robbers theory—plus, when she’s in action she’s nearly always the scariest person in the room. And Lung, the first supervillain we meet, doesn’t have a costume at all, just a commanding presence. In contrast, the next set of villains Taylor meets, Uber and Leet, are established as losers no one takes seriously partially through having costumes that are just gimmicky. Early worm establishes that the successful villains in this setting are focused on being scary before anything else. Considering the extend Taylor internalizes the “be feared or die” strategy as the story goes on, it’s important for Worm to set that dynamic up quickly at the beginning, even if later characters break this rule*.

But early Regent doesn’t care about being scary. He struts into the battlefield like he’s Gorgeous George**, complete with a costume that wouldn’t look out of place in professional wrestling. He spends less time trying to act intimidating when fighting people and more time trying to get people to forget he’s there until he can steal their cool canon. He’s not trying to scare heroes or rival villains off like the others are, and that’s largely because he didn’t create the Regent persona to scare away people and make crime easier—he made the Regent persona to have a life away from his horrible family. It’s an early indication that Alec’s motivation for being here are not the same as everyone else’s—the other Undersiders are criminals for a living, and are using their personas as tools for their job. Alec is in this to have a good time in a way he didn’t get to in his old life, and is using his Regent persona as a form of play.

*for the later successful villains who DO care a lot about aesthetics, such as Accord or Trickster, their motivation for bucking the trend tend to says a lot about them. But that’s a different post.

**now I have the image stuck in my head of Alec coming to an important villain meeting in an evening gown, puppeting his henchmen to spread a carpet of rose petals ahead of him. Fuck he’d love doing that. The real tragedy of the Behemoth fight is that it robbed us of Aisha and Alec forming the best tag-team heel duo the wrestling world has ever seen.

[vrishchikawrites]

About YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids Post-WWX Arrival

Dear Dee, feel free to delete or ignore this or post it, whatever floats your boat. This just stuck in my head after those posts and I had to blurt it all to someone. Thanks for taking the time to read my word vomit.

So I had to do this instead of an ask because it got long and I wasn't sure how many asks it'd need or how short I could cut it down without losing parts of the argument. And then other things came up as I was writing and, well.  Well..... >_>;;;; 

But you know, after that post/ask you had about YZY fics saying 'Fuck U' to YMJ/JFM & leaving both with her kids, I had a sarcastic 'yeah right' attitude about it. Mainly due to a lot of negation emotions to such an abusive (and delusional) bitch, partly due to how she wouldn't do that since it doesn't seem to be something her sort of character would consider either because she'd think of it as 'losing' (losing what, IDK, it's why I consider her type of person crazy) or she legit wouldn't think about such a viable action.

But then later, in the shower, I seriously went 'Wait, she can't fucking do that' and it wouldn't be about how MXTX uses her as a part of the narrative but entirely about the/their culture in the novel; the actions that have and would be taken in response; and her entire toxic personality as well.

1) We already know that the sects and the cultivation world in general is sexist, elitist and so Capital T 'Traditional' to the point that it's starting to petrify and any deviancy from this is an exception rather than the norm. YZY might be a madame of a great sect (for what that's worth considering how shit of a madame she's been and the titles she's chosen for herself) but she's still a woman even with her high rank and the things she's personally accomplished.

Even if she was in her rights to leave a 'bad' marriage, she'd be the one who'd get scolded more instead of JFM by her natal family, her former husband's family and by their entire society at large even if she had a few singular supporters. Because That's Not How Things Are Done in their society and I do believe that such a thing was rare even when it was accepted method by the upper echelons. Especially since it would have to be done by more than YZY simply deciding that She Wants Out and just- goes and Gets Out. With no serious allegations that would allow her to divorce or separate from YMJ/JFM without the input from her family, JFM's family and, I think, possibly some measure of compensation as well. And no, having or bringing in a 'bastard child' is not a serious enough offence for such a humongous decision. I think something more along the lines of treason or crimes against multiple, high-ranking parties would be more along the lines. Maybe.

And even if she does this, she'd be considered 'Used Goods' (such a terrible comment) and there'd be no other good/proper marriage prospects for a divorced woman with children let alone a woman like YZY with her entire abrasive personality and attitude put off even easy-going JFM.

(If she'd been widowed then it'd be more forgiven but I consider that a Real Bad End since, IMO, it would lead to the sudden and inevitable decline of YMJ either via mass exodus of disciples and/or residents of LP; being merged with another sect due to it's unstable leadership; or create an internal political war 'cause I bet you anything that the YMJ Elders/relatives (if they have any) Would Not Want YZY in charge of YMJ when she's already proven herself such a shit betrothed let alone madame.)

2) Speaking of families, while YMJ/JFM/LP as a whole might be glad to see YZY's back, I don't think her natal sect, MSY, will be glad to see her come storming back after all the effort they put into getting that particular marriage alliance with YMJ. And if she brings her children with her? Oh man, oh boy- mother or not, that could be considered as kidnapping or line theft (is that a thing?) especially if YZY is also seriously considering divorce proceedings and raising them as Yu and not Jiang. That could give leave to, for anyone more unforgiving and maybe JFM if he's pushed enough, disown both JYL and JWY from the Jiangs through no fault of their own (though I'm sure YZY would make it so as well as blame JFM for her own decisions and mistakes).

Therefore, any inheritance or benefits they might gain for being legitimised children of a great sect are forfeited. JYL will likely lose that betrothal with JZX because JGS will drop it like a hot potato and JWY won't be a sect heir because YZY literally decided to remove that by deciding to raise JWY as a Yu, no matter their blood relation to JFM. They leave him, they leave YMJ and everything attached with it. Which is if YMJ/JFM doesn't demand MSY to give back their heir/ess and to punish YZY for her actions. Or send all three of them back for the appropriate reactions/decisions.

Their society would demand no less in reaction because, to them, it would seem like YZY had gone mad and JFM would look weak (or weaker) and imply that YMJ is vulnerable and exploitable if JFM doesn't do something in response to her actions. That's not even getting into what the other smaller sects may try to do in an attempt to curry favour with YMJ or what LLJ or QSW would try in order to destroy or diminish YMJ. And whether JFM chooses to demand his children back or not, it may not change the fact that this may give him reason enough to choose a nephew or niece to be the new sect heir especially if, even after getting rid of YZY's poisonous influence, JWY grows up to be his mother's child more than his father's or even his own person.

Either way, such a thing would bring great backlash on YZY, and MSY as well as the collateral. No one would want to give face to her or her children because it would bring up some very uncomfortable questions and scenarios to the other sects- specifically, what would happen if the female members of their clans/sets decided to follow the footsteps of YZY and leave with their children and heirs. Especially if they use it as an excuse to leave for their own comfort and whims and not some legitimate wrongs and dangers. That would create some more restrictions on women thanks to YZY

3) And lastly, if any one of those idiot YZY stans think that she'd ever give up the status of being a madame of a great sect they'd be as crazy or crazier than her. YZY is all about status and power and face. Specifically, her status, power and face and how people in her reach reflect her or 'insult' her. She is a selfish, terrible, abusive and toxic person and can only see people in regards to how they would benefit her and the elevation of her and in no other way. Especially her family. They cannot be their own person, they can only be an extension of her and gods forbid they go against her.

We can see this in how she treats the people she supposedly loves. JFM? Arguments day in, day out along with accusations and slander of cheating, having one(1) supposed 'bastard' and being 'in love' with CSSR. Which all seems sus as hell. And that's when she's actually there and not out 'night hunting'. Even her 'training' seems to border on unhelpful rather then helpful if my vague recollections of juniors fainting from exhaustion can be relied upon (please call me out if they're not or find proof).

JYL? Berated by not being 'strong' but not helped at all to be 'strong'. It doesn't help that YZY seems to believe in the same standards strength in their society- that is, of martial masculine strength which does not and should not apply to JYL who has been said to be sickly. Which means h should have been learning a different way of cultivation/fighting anyway.  If that was something she wanted and had been offered in the first place- which I doubt. That isn't even getting into her repeated generational trauma mess of a betrothal which was decided only by those 'sworn sisters', accepted by her as a way out of her terrible home life and puts her squarely within reach of JGS who we know to be a womaniser, rapist, predator and a possible ephebophile considering we don't know the exact age of his youngest 'conquest' or the age of MZY's mother when they met which could be anywhere from 14 to 21.

JWY? Gods, so much meta on him and his(non-) relationships with his parents that I don't think I can contribute more to it. It's been all said and done. Unless people want me to stir the pot by saying that, maybe, just maybe, YZY resents JWY as much as she 'loves' him.Either because he's her son and yet never manages to 'accomplish as much' as WWX or because he's a boy and therefore, more benefits and allowances than a girl/woman- more than anything that YZY ever got without either a fight or screaming at someone about. *shrug*

So, in conclusion to this sudden an unexpected essay that I wrote(I'm so sorry about that, I thought it would be shorter -.-;;;;), YZY leaving YMJ/JFM with her kids? Impossible. Not without some sort of personality transplant or a complete AU. She's too prideful, too bitter, too angry, too everything negative and little positive. She's a resentful product of the values and restraints of her society taken to the extreme negative with a willingness to inflict her pain on others to an abusive degree. But she's also too obsessed and reliant on those same values and restraints to keep up the image of her status. So her? Giving those up? You'd be more likely to see WRH as a doting grandfather than that.

---

Dee - All of this is true and yes YZY leaving YMJ is highly unlikely. While there will be consequences if she decides to leave, she does canonically lives separately from her husband. They seem to be in a situation where they are married but living separately, which was a common way to end a marriage (at least in spirit) back then. She essentially had all the perks of being Madam Jiang but fulfilled none of the responsibilities.

Afaik, her training the Jiang disciples is a donghua thing? I may be wrong but I recall she spent most of her time nighthunting.

As for taking her children along with her- that's completely impossible. At that point, children were the property of the father. She could leave but she would've never been allowed to take JC.

[saint-eridell]

A Silent Prayer (Midoriya Izuku/F!Reader)

I… honestly don't know how this happened. The words just kinda came out. I didn't start out intending to write a slow burn saga, but that's apparently what my brain decided to do with it. Might continue the series at some point, to be honest; this whole universe has its hooks into me.

Collab piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​'s Citrus Dome server collaboration. 15k, completed, proofread, no beta. Pairings: Dryad!Midoriya Izuku/Human!Reader, Human!Toshinori Yagi/Dryad!Midoriya Inko Prompt: Gods Content warnings: Background character death, non-con (very brief, not explicit)

Read on AO3

Quick Guide (ctrl-F to jump)

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

---

Prologue

Your village's clearing, while spacious enough to afford room for a small population, is essentially cut off from the outside world by the dense verdant wall that circles it on all sides. One of two paths out leads toward a well-maintained temple where the locals (and rare traveler) leave offerings to the Fae that populate the forest, and one leads out to the nearest trading post… which lies a week's away ride on a speedy horse. This clearing of hand-built homes and ancient looking shops is the only thing you've known. Your studies as a temple attendant began young, before you could even comprehend what you were training to do, and have kept you attached to the village with zero chance of travel.

That has suited you just fine so far. From what the hunters talk about seeing in the forest… you'd rather stay alive than "sightsee".

The first thing you're taught in your village is to respect the forest. Even the youngest of your people know not to step in Fae circles, or follow strange sets of eyes in the dark, or listen to any voices that come trickling out of the treeline on quiet nights. The Fae could be immensely giving, but they're fickle creatures on a good day and absolutely dangerous at their worst. Contact with any roaming Fae, regardless of the type or how friendly it seems, has long been banned among your people. Your job as an attendant, despite a common misconception that you have direct contact with beasts and monsters, is to maintain the temple, greet travelers, and meditate among the many gardens built within the temple walls.

Worship is a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods.

But you never expected one to answer… much less three times.

---

Part 1

The first time is after a terrible fire that razes half of the village during your first year of training. A roaming wyvern tears through the fields surrounding its back half in a fury, razing an entire cluster of homes and over half of the summer crops already suffering through a prolonged drought. The village finds itself in disarray amid the smoldering remains: one half wants to burn the temple in retaliation, seeing the wyvern as an omen that some Fae lord is on the warpath, while the other seeks to gather what remained of the crops as one final beseechment to whoever or whatever they'd angered.

Having just been initiated, your young mind goes directly to one of your first lessons: true offerings are of the heart. In your barely school age mind, that means offering something that means a lot to you. After some consideration you narrow it down - your favorite doll, a gift from a mother you never had the chance to know - and take it to the temple. You find a quiet altar to lay the doll down upon, and as soon as you find your knees to begin praying before it you catch sight of a boy hovering behind the marble pedestal.

His head is wrapped in emerald linen, but it rounds off enough to suggest there's densely packed hair underneath. A single curl peeks out at the center of his forehead, somehow even deeper than the rich dyed fabric over it, its point resting between huge green eyes that seem to peer right down to your very soul. It would be eerie if he wasn't smiling at you with a gap where one tooth should be, a bright beam of sunshine in an otherwise rather gloomy marble-lined room.

"Is that a doll?" he asks, and his voice chirps with the same excitement of the first few birds that poke out of the melting winter snow. You nod, frozen with trained hesitation that wars with your naive curiosity - he doesn't look familiar, nor does he look like the child of anyone who had recently come through the village. But he doesn't look dangerous to you. He's barely as tall as you, and he smiles too nice to be a threat… right? 

You open your mouth to call for your matron but the boy holds both hands up suddenly, his eyes somehow widening even further with a bolt of fear. "Wait," he whispers. "I'm not supposed to be here. I heard people praying and snuck away from my mother." He tilts his head. "Did you sneak away from your mom, too?"

You shake your head in response. "I live here," you explain quietly, matching his hushed tone. "I'll work in the temple one day. I came here to offer my doll so our fields will come back."

The boy's face splits into a grin. "Does that mean I'll get to see you again?"

You aren't given time to answer: a sharp voice echoes into the room from somewhere beyond the open door, growing louder by the second as someone approaches. You turn your head to listen until a quiet shuffling brings your attention back to the boy, who's moved around the altar and taken the doll in one hand. He quickly tugs off the linen wrap covering his head and thrusts it toward you. You struggle to grasp it, shocked by a pair of tiny antler nubs that poke through the curls on the top of the boy’s head... or Fae’s rather. There’s no mistaking the point of his upper ears. "Here," he whispers urgently. "It's my favorite, so be careful with it. Wrap it around some ashes from your burned crops and bury it in the middle of the field." He waves as he steps back with another one of those beaming smiles, your doll clutched tight to his chest. "I promise I'll keep your doll safe. Maybe we can play next time!"

You blink, and as quick as he appeared he's gone. Matron Elspeth, a short and round woman with more than enough years in the temple to justify her limited patience (and the woman in charge of your temple training), appears behind you the second he’s gone. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she snaps as she grabs you by the upper arm and hauls you toward the door. “We’re convening the-

You dig your heels into the floor. “Wait!” you exclaim with all the assertiveness your tiny voice can muster. “I have something!”

The matron stops to glare down at you. You hold up the linen like it’s a prized tapestry. “A boy appeared in here and gave this to me. I brought my doll as an offering and he gave this to me.”

The matron’s brows knit deep between her eyes. “And you took it?”

You nod eagerly, but you aren’t prepared to see such a terrifying old woman blanch like she just witnessed a murder. She stops you both in the hallway, all sense of urgency abandoned, a wrinkled hand held to the wall as she breathes out a long, ragged sigh. “Oh, child,” she murmurs. “I don’t think you realize what you’ve just done.” She gives you a smile that’s softer than anything you’ve ever seen from her, and it’s disarming enough to have you stunned silent. Isn’t she supposed to be rapping you across the knuckles with her willow switch? “He was Fae, wasn’t he?”

You nod slowly, your excitement slowly twisting into pangs of dread. “I didn’t give him my name,” you burst out after a sudden realization - of course she’s worried, she thinks you just signed yourself away to the forest. What was the first thing she’d taught you? You wave your hands in front of you defenselessly, the scarf flapping back and forth. “I only said the doll was my favorite, and that I’d brought it as an offering. He said this headscarf was his favorite and that I should bury it in the field wrapped around some ashes from the crops and -”

“Eeeeeeasy,” Elspeth chides gently. She lowers herself to a knee to put herself on eye level with you, both hands wrapped around your shoulders. “You did the right thing. I wouldn’t have expected someone so small to learn our ways as quickly as you have.” She holds her hand out for the scarf and you hand it over. She turns it over gently, running her fingers over the seams with a pensive hum. “And you say he told you to bury it?”

“In the field, wrapped around ashes from the burned crops."

“And you absolutely did not give him your name?”

You shake your head fervently. “He didn’t even ask for it.”

Elspeth’s frown deepens. “Curious.” She rises slowly to her feet with a wince as both knees audibly crack under her shifting weight. You grab her arm to help her stay upright as she rests a hand on the wall once again with a low groan. “I’m getting too old for this,” she grouses. “You need to hurry up and grow already so I can hand off the robes.” Her wrinkled hand takes one of yours as she leads the way toward the temple’s main hall. “Tell me more about the boy.”

You go through everything you can remember - same height, pale freckled skin, lots of green curls, big eyes… “Oh, and horns,” you add on.

Elspeth stops you both at the end of the last hall. Several groups of people in various temple garb hover in the large foyer beyond, but your matron turns your back to them with both hands on your shoulders. She bends low at the waist to stare you down from only a few inches away. “Horns?” she hisses.

You nod, confused by the sudden change in her demeanor. “Tiny ones,” you reply. “Like when the young bucks grow their first set at the beginning of summer. I didn’t see them or his ears until after he gave me his scarf.”

Elspeth goes quiet for several seconds, her gaze averted to the throng behind you, and just as you open your mouth to question if she’s okay she’s steering you around and through the crowd with a purpose. “We need to speak to the temple Ascendant,” she urges quietly. “This is beyond both of us now, little one.”

---

Part 2

You hadn’t been approached by just any run-of-the-mill forest creature. If you really had experienced the entire moment (which the linen basically proved without a shadow of a doubt despite your own dumbfounded disbelief), you’d come across a young dryad. Or rather, he’d found you, which is an incredible occurrence in itself: dryads are known for being among the most reclusive of Fae, preferring to live in their heavily altered pockets of the forest where only their kind can survive. According to the ancient lore they’re protectors of a vast plane beyond the one humans live in, a vanguard of Fae hidden among life-providing vegetation and deceptively thick forest floor in wait for someone or something to come along and threaten their territory. The tomes in the temple library are filled with tales from “survivors” of attacks by wandering dryads, all telling of razor sharp teeth and sickly green skin and a heathenly worship of the old gods that on its own warrants avoiding them at all costs.

But in the whirlwind following your encounter with the young Fae, something becomes glaringly obvious: no one wants to talk about who had provided the linen that saved them all, despite it successfully bringing back their fields during a single earth-shaking rainstorm and assuring a solid harvest that would more than provide through the winter. All the villagers flock to the temple with offerings by the basket, but no one wants to acknowledge who had actually saved them. That reality sticks with you like a sharp thorn, as does the dryad boy’s hauntingly sweet voice as you grow older within the temple walls, your studies growing more intense by the year. By the time you reach adulthood, you’re actively involved with just about every aspect of temple life. You’ve grown popular among your fellow attendants and the temple-goers alike, even the ones who seem reluctant to be there at all. Your easy-going demeanor and disarming smile is able to diffuse even the staunchest of cynicism. You have, for all intents, and purposes, become the shining example of everything Matron Elspeth raised you to be. Nothing in this world makes you prouder than knowing you're on the way to earning her robes… and maybe, at some time in the future, the temple Ascendant's.

You remain faithful to your doctrine, but in the dead of night every full moon you pray that he’ll come back. You’ve had years to think about it: if you give him a “given” name, he’ll have to use that. It’s not yours, so he won’t own you. Dryads are attracted to beehives, presumably for the same reason pixies are attracted to berry bushes (an almost impulsive sweet tooth) so you’re ready with a clump of the temple’s finest honeycomb every time the moon reaches its largest point.

But despite your increasingly saddened prayers and offers over the years, no sign of him or any other dryads appear. There are rumors of the occasional peculiar looking traveler with big green eyes, but your temple work prevents you from wandering into the village unless it’s on a designated supply pickup day. Elspeth tells you to forget him and focus on your studies every time she catches you quietly moping: “We can’t have our future Ascendant being wooed away by some doe-eyed boy, regardless of if he’s human or not.”

On the evening after your confirmation and the following party, once you’ve returned from the village and gathered up your usual prayer supplies, you make your way to your favorite altar in the temple as the moon finds its highest point in the sky above. The room’s roof has been removed to give a full view of the sky for astral worship, but you prefer it for the way it allows moonlight to fill the center with a skirt of fading dark that swallows the edges of the room. It’s easier to focus here, to lay yourself bare before whatever force that lays beyond the clearing’s edge and let it speak through the beams of light emanating from above.

Elspeth disapproves of your “fixation”, but doesn't argue back when you request privacy for the rest of the evening. Your birthday this present is in the form of your matron keeping all wandering staff away from your prayer room, and that seems perfectly fair to you. You’ve already made plans to repay her empathy with a few of her favorite lemon pastries.

You lay out the contents of the basket hanging from your arm across the marble altar’s polished surface: green and gold candles, several lengths of high quality gold pendant chain, a large bowl of fresh, sticky honeycomb and an ornate goblet full of a rare winterberry mead you were given by the lead hunter’s son (“For the day you get free of that prison and decide to marry”, he’d boasted... his mistake, you’re keeping the mead and he can choke on the cork).

In the center goes a hand-sized velvet pillow upon which you set an emerald big enough to fill your palm. It had taken three years to save up enough for it, but in your eyes it’s the best thing you’ve ever bought. The moonlight dancing off the lines of the gem’s depths flicker and dance exactly like the Fae’s eyes had so many years ago. You pause to take in the sight, transfixed by the shifting planes that white themselves out before immediately shifting to deep green and then to inky black when you tilt your head.

A slight breeze rattling through the room snaps you from your reverie. You glance upward where the moon hangs directly overhead, a wide white circle set deep into an array of scattered stars and inky skyspace beyond. A vivid memory of pale skin dotted with freckles flashes across your mind’s eye and you have to force yourself to redirect to the present, shaking your head hard as the breeze fades away. “Focus,” you murmur to yourself. You don’t have long before the moon will move away from the center of the open roof.

Once the candles are lit, several cones of musky incense set into miniature cauldrons come next, wisps of pungent smoke permeating every dark corner of the room within seconds. You kneel before the altar once everything is in place with your plain white robes folding neatly under you. As you take your first deep breath, the incense fills your nose and drowns out anything beyond it; a hazy blanket hovers thick and heavy in your sinuses, even after you exhale.

This is an easy process for you. You've long mastered how to find your own meditative headspace through years of disciplined practice. You let the chirping of bugs beyond the temple echo around your ears, your breathing slow and light. You tilt your closed eyes up toward where you can vaguely tell the glow of the moon is strongest. "I have no crisis," you say in your head. "I seek no power, no glory, no riches. I only wish to see my friend again." A deep sense of peace radiates down to your bones as you let out a slow breath. The entire room comes to a standstill, even the wind seemingly reverent of your descent toward the lowest floor of your headspace. If you go any further, you feel like you could slip right through the floor.

"We're friends, eh?"

Your eyes fly open as a shriek tears through you, every semblance of calm shattered. You kick yourself backward and the cushion you'd been kneeling on flying forward to bounce off the ornate carving set into the front of the pedestal. You skitter in the opposite direction, prepared to take off running down the hall and find the first guard you come across, when you stop dead with your hands planted to the cold marble floor.

It's him.

The dryad boy is standing in the same spot he'd appeared in last time, smiling at you with that same beaming grin. Or… it looks like him, at least. He's taller now, but he still looks to be around your height, maybe just an inch or so taller. It's obvious he's been up to something strenuous: his tunic sleeves cut off around defined upper arms, where you can spot an array of thin scars set into his pale, freckled skin. He's dressed in emerald traveler garb, a linen wrap identical to the one he'd given wrapped loosely around his neck, and as you look further up you choke on a gasp.

You hadn't been hallucinating all those years ago. The tiny antler nubs he'd been sporting before have grown fivefold and now branch over his head in tall, proud spikes that circle his hair like a jagged halo. He seems to catch what your eyes lock onto and he dips his head, a scarred hand reaching to clutch at the fabric draped around his neck like he wants to throw it up over his head. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, and you're immediately floored by how achingly familiar the lilt of his voice is. You've heard it in your dreams enough to know it's him. "I didn't mean to scare you that bad."

You push yourself up to your feet with an indignant huff. "Scare me that bad?" you grumble back as you dust yourself off and right your robes.

He laughs again, light as air. Your anger slips away at the sound despite your best attempt to hold onto it. You're not some shrinking violet, dammit. "I had to take the opportunity when it presented itself," he replies through a fond smile. "Couldn't help myself."

You huff your disapproval, which gets you another chuckle. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he says as he takes a step forward with his hands raised in a show of surrender. "No more scares, I promise." He fixes you with another beaming smile. "Happy birthday. I'm here now."

Your heart flips sideways into your ribs. He'd really heard you. But if he could hear you tonight…

"Why didn't you come any other time I prayed?" you ask before you can consider the implications of your query. You slap a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry," you say quickly from behind your palm. "I don't mean to say I expected you to listen or appear, I just…"

The dryad fixes you with a concerned frown. "You just what?" he asks back without a trace of anger, which catches you off guard. "I'm not gonna cut your tongue out or anything. You didn't offend me."

You let out your held breath in one hard burst. Thank every god in existence. You pause, waiting to make sure he really isn't angry and just playing head games, then proceed with only a tiny tremble: "I just hoped you would."

Something akin to pain dances across his face and you immediately regret your admission for reasons you can't quite figure out. "I'm sorry," you exclaim again, but he holds up a finger before you can try to babble through a reason why.

"It's not easy for my kind to survive here," he says with a solemnity that draws the entire room to a standstill. "The air is too dry for ones who haven't acclimated to it. I'll admit, the first time I tried I got incredibly sick upon returning home." His gaze flicks to the span of marble between your feet. "But I've been practicing. I should be able to stay a few hours now." He finds your eye again and the sincerity behind them smashes into you like a cannonball. How could anyone ever say his kind are hideous? Is it the antlers? 

"If you'll have me, that is."

Oh gods above, below, and in gran's cookbooks. "Of course," you breathe back without hesitation.

His smile returns, wide and genuine, bright enough to narrow the room to just him alone. "I was hoping you would say that." He bows politely, his traveler's cloak brushing the floor as it sweeps back. "I'm sorry, I didn't have a chance to introduce myself before. May I have your name?"

A caustic jolt rushes up the length of your spine. Every hair on your body raises at the root as you cut a glare in his direction. Oh no no no, you didn't go through an entire childhood of Matron Elspeth's lectures to fall for his ruses that easily, no matter how hard he makes your stomach flutter. "No you may not," you say back with practiced ease. He sits up abruptly to give you another wounded look, but you're too on guard for it to work. "I'm sorry." You really aren't.

He huffs a laugh. "Fair play. I should have known better. May I have a name to address you by?"

You've trained for this your entire life. In no way is he going to get you. "No you may not," you say again. "But I was born under a sparrow's first nest." A meaningless fact that would at least lead him toward something you'll answer to without naming you directly. Elspeth is going to be so proud.

He hums, seemingly picking up your subtle lead. "Sparrow, then," he confirms. "It suits you."

You clear your throat as the collar of your robe shifts against your reddening neck. You can't hold eye contact and keep your flush contained so you opt for the former while your hands clasp respectfully behind your back. You're an anointed temple servant. You won't be reduced to a pile of girlish mush in your own temple. "Thank you," you reply with a polite bow. "And is there a known name I may refer to you by?"

"Deku," he chirps back. "You could have just asked. I'm not as picky with my known name as you humans seem to be."

You straighten up with a placid smile. "Can you blame me?"

Deku shrugs. "I mean, a little," he replies with an honesty that almost knocks you backward again. "I've seen the records humans keep on us. The way your "beastmasters" talk makes us sound like feral crypt monsters." 

You catch the bitterness in his tone and squirm on the spot. You hadn't meant any insult. "We've had a lot of people killed by dryads over the years," you reply as gently as you can. "And even more that have disappeared around the same time one was seen. The people here are just fearful."

"Fear doesn't excuse ignorance." His jaw flexes and your frame draws tight with tension. He takes a slow breath as he pauses, and his anger visibly recedes. "But you haven't taken off running yet, so I guess it's safe to assume you're not as ignorant as the others."

Your voice drops to a murmur when you respond. "I remember what you did for us. We would have starved the winter after that fire if you hadn't brought our crops back."

"Thank my dad for that. It was his idea. He couldn't make the trip himself, so he sent my mom and I with instructions."

The pieces click into place with a weight that knocks the wind from your lungs. Deku watches you ponder as he steps around the altar and perches on its edge. "You didn't just save us. You risked your life to do it. But… why?"

"Because you asked me to-" He plucks the goblet and gives it an appreciative sniff. "-And you brought a worthy offering to go with it." He sips the mulled wine with a deep groan of approval. At least the idiot who'd been hitting on you throughout the entire celebration has good taste in booze. "Winterberries?" You nod, and he takes a longer sip before offering you the goblet. You take it with pride as he traces his thumb over his lower lip to catch a stray drop (don't stare don't stare don't stare don't stare). "Gods, this is fantastic. I hope your meadery has put in offerings, because they deserve whatever they were asking for."

You go to take a sip as he continues his praise, but another bolt of anxiety keeps you from raising the cup all the way to your lips. This isn't a directly outlawed interaction (you can't recall a rule that says you're not allowed to share an offering, as far as you can remember); however, something still feels… ominous about accepting such an offer. Or maybe you're just being paranoid. The lore books also said dryads instinctively kill humans on sight.

His features darken at your hesitation. "I can guarantee that I've already got a tolerance if you just tried to slip me something," he spits out with a mix of anger and raw hurt. The venom in his tone paralyzes you with fear and for a long moment all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes. You swallow around your dry tongue as you struggle to formulate a disarming response.

"It's not like that," you finally say back with the goblet held in both shaky hands. You raise it for a prolonged sip and make a display of showing that you actually took a drink, which seems to assuage his anxiety as much as it does yours, the mead warming your throat and chest as it settles in a warm ball somewhere deep in your core. The Hammerbar meadery doesn't mess around with the efficiency of their products, apparently. "See? If there's something in it now you'll know."

Deku shakes his head. "Then let's hope it's just mead. I'm sorry. I don't think you'd do that." He turns away to pick at the honeycomb and pops a corner into his mouth, which is received with another appreciative noise from deep in his chest.

The conversation is light and easy from the very beginning. He's young for his kind with double your lifespan ahead of him, maybe longer if he "ascends" (a term that has you both laughing in solidarity as you commiserate on your respective mentors). After a good hour of chatting a silence finally lapses between you, the buzz of cicadas filling the space as Deku picks up the last chunk of honeycomb. You sit at the altar's base, just within touching range of the leg he has dangling over the edge of the pedestal, his eerie green eyes trained on you with the sharpness of a royal blade.

He's ethereal in close range. The air around him carries a drift of something wild and feral, like an inaudible drumbeat that thumps in time with your heart.

"Do I make you nervous?" 

That feels like a loaded question if you've ever heard one. He seems to pick up on your hesitation once again and tilts his head, his lips parted slightly around a faint smile that makes your heart skip a beat. "No," you reply, but it's a hollow projection. Deku raises a brow, a clear sign he caught your lie.

"Uh… maybe a little. You said it yourself, human understanding of your kind is apparently woefully inaccurate." Which bothers you a lot. You're one of the people responsible for interpreting every tome in the archive. How much else do humans have wrong?

Deku nods. "I know it's not very helpful, but we don't hate humans. The elders pity your lack of connection to wild magic, but that's a sentiment that's fading with the younger generations."

"And what do you think of us?" 

The Fae pauses, his head tilted askew as he ponders your question. You have the urge to take it back before he replies suddenly, his teeth flashing in a grin that makes your stomach flip and promptly fall into your feet:

"I don't care about other humans. I care about you."

You swallow hard. You're completely unprepared for the weight of his tone. It's all you can do to remember to breathe normally as panic and excitement go to all-out war. You're vaguely aware that you've been warned about this: Fae rely on glamour magic to conceal their true selves while among humans. The closer you are to one and the longer you spend there, the more likely you are to fall for it. This isn't him, you say to yourself in a firm tone. You're seeing a spell. And yet you remain rooted to the spot amid the molasses-thick silence, his emerald eyes transfixed on you like he's trying to bore himself right down to your soul. Logic is no longer enough to make yourself move, to speak, to do anything but watch him with deep fascination. Part of you doesn't want to move at all, and you're vaguely aware that your lack of fear should probably be some kind of warning sign.

He suddenly pushes himself off the altar and lands on his feet, cat-like and eerily graceful, his hand extended to help you up as well. You take it and are immediately shocked by how rough his palm is under your fingers. He doesn't look old enough to have gone through years of hard labor, but his hands tell a completely different story. You frown at your palms where they're flattened together, his weathered fingers draped gently around the side of your hand. He radiates heat like a stone dock in summer. Even with a foot or two between you, you have to wrestle down the urge to step closer and draw yourself into the warmth that surrounds him.

He leans far enough to get your attention and flashes you another dazzling smile (you're not insane, he can't feel even warmer now how is that even possible). "I have a present for you," he chirps. A hand disappears into his satchel and reappears a moment later with a long piece of rich emerald silk. You can't help but beam until your cheeks ache: the delicate gold embroidery along its edges is identical to what is on the linen scarf you've held onto for all these years. The delicate silk threads are woven into a river of shiny deep green that pools around your fingers in feather-light ripples. It's clearly worth more than anything you've ever owned and everything you currently own combined, adding an extra level of surreal that has your head slightly spinning.

"I embroidered it myself," he says, pride radiating through his words. He holds it up with an encouraging nod toward you. "May I?"

It takes your brain a few seconds to catch up with what's happening, but when it does you nod slowly. He closes the gap between you in one slow step and oh, you aren't ready for the scent of earth and pine that radiates from him and the crackle of something intangible that hits you like a mallet once you're nearly standing chest to chest.

The scarf is draped over your shoulders in a single flourish. He secures it in an ornate knot at your throat, his knuckles dragging little brushes of electricity across your skin as you do your best to stay still. Gods, whatever glamour he's using is powerful because he's absolutely breathtaking this close. The freckles you remember from so many years ago are still there, softened by the slight tan of his cheeks but still a pronounced constellation under his soft eyes as he smiles down at you with a mind-nymbing warmth.

"Green is your color," he murmurs close enough for you to feel his breath ghosting across your throat. Your heart flies upward and, on a whim you can't wrestle down, you reach for his hand once again to deftly slide your fingers between his. Deku jumps, clearly startled, but he makes no move to pull away or retreat. In fact, he gives your hand a squeeze in return that makes every hair on your body stand on its end. He draws even closer, pressing out every bit of air between you. Your interwoven hands are guided to between your chests, the breeze and ambient noise from outside coming to a dead standstill.

"I never forgot you," he rumbles, eyes half-lidded from the close proximity. "Not for a second."

"I dreamed about you," you whisper back, and the last few inches between you are gone in an instant. You draw in synchronized inhales as a surprisingly strong set of arms wraps around your back. Your own thread around his waist to clutch at the Fae and keep him pressed close with a sudden flash of desperation. He seems to be of the same mind: he kisses you with a ferocity you've never known, demanding and insistent enough that your lungs' cries for oxygen go willfully ignored. When you finally rip apart it's with another unified inhale and a wonble as the world spins on its ear. You can feel yourself grinning despite the shock still numbing out your brain. 

A Fae kissed you… and you kissed him back without hesitation. There's something unsaid in the room now and it hangs heavy in his stare, which has once again fixated upon you with trickles of gold dancing along the edges of deep green. You quietly gasp. You've never seen feral magic this close. Shouldn't you be afraid by now?

"Come with me," he breathes out of nowhere. Your knees just about give out from shock. What?

"I'm serious." He holds both your hands under his chin. "I can give you things you don't even know exist. Anything you want, I'll make it happen."

You gape back. It's the sort of dramatic offer you read about in children's books, but never in a thousand years did you think you'd really be offered something like this. "Deku…"

"I know it's a lot," he blurts out. "You've spent your whole life here and I would never want to separate you from the world you know, but if I can find you in the same spot twice I'm sure we can find a way to go back and forth -" 

Something in you decided the second he asked. There's no question what your heart wants. You press in again while he's rambling to cut him off with another firm kiss. Deku grunts into it as he's forcibly quieted before a hand gently cradles the back of your head.

You pull away with less ferocity this time and hover in his space, hazy with giddiness. "I didn't say no," you whisper, unable to bring yourself to speak any louder. "But there are things that need to be done in the meantime. I have duties here, Deku."

"We can figure out how to do both," he replies with rapidly growing excitement. The thin gold veins around his irises have begun to overtake the emerald. Your heart thunders as his excitement edges on feral. "Please just consider it. If you want, I can come back this same time next year and we can figure it out from there."

A year seems long enough to your addled brain. "Sure," you wheeze. "One year from tonight."

"One year." Deku nods furtively, but as he lets go of you it's obvious you're not the only one who hates having to do it. He looks to the floor, then to the darkest corner of the room where he'd appeared, then back to you with a smile too heavy for the ones you're used to. "I'll be watching over you. The embroidery of that scarf is kind of powerful, so I'd be careful wearing it around anyone or anything that might pull it."

You look to the fabric tied around your neck and your frown deepens. "What's that supposed to -"

Too late. By the time you look up again he's gone, and the altar in front of you is empty.

---

Part 3

You hold his promise close to your heart and don't breathe a single word of it to anyone, even your mentor. Elspeth would have an absolute fit if she figured out you're planning on not only leaving the temple, but running off with a dryad of all things. And besides that, she doesn't deserve the disrespect of knowing all her years of effort might go to waste. You can't bring yourself to face that very real chance just yet.

You stick to your studies and daily duties as your matron's hearth declines through the year, and nearly a year to the day since Deku's last visit the inevitable comes. Matron Elspeth passes in her sleep with you at her side, holding her hand while humming her favorite hymns until you see her chest rise and fall for the last time. She lived to a blessedly old age, but that doesn't help the fierce tear of grief that rips you open when she's finally gone. Elspeth was essentially your mother along with being your mentor.

And beyond that, if it hadn't been for her, you would have never met Deku.

You head up the organization of her final ceremonies, as is your place. Her pyre is constructed along the edge of the clearing's small lake, a neatly organized stack of wood and highly flammable fabric from the temple with a gap in the middle for her remains. You make sure to include clippings from her favorite lavender box as a final personal farewell.

The pyre is set ablaze with your own torch. This is how it has to be. It's how she sent her mentor off, and it will be how your mentor sends you off as well. You can only hope you've given her the honor she deserves, every decision you've made considered.

You make your way back to the temple alone at sunset while the other attendants remain behind. You need time to think. You've spent every quiet moment that day crying alone. If you don't get a second of true isolation you're going to break in front of half the temple. Elspeth wouldn't like that. You're stronger than your grief, at least for the moment, so you make a beeline for your preferred prayer room and let your feet move in that direction on autopilot, emerald scarf drawn up around your cheeks. You hold it close and will yourself to remain calm until there's a door between you and the rest of the world.

You're running by the time you throw yourself into the altar room and shove the door closed behind you. It lands in its frame with a thunderous BANG that muffles the broken sob that cracks from between the hands you have clutched over your face, along with the shuffling of a second person in the room that had gone unnoticed while you were trying to escape everyone else. A boot heel slides along the marble floor and you whirl around, eyes wide as you peer through the strands of summer dusk that pour through the room's open roof. Your heart flies into your throat with a burst of excitement. "Deku?" you call out, shaking with the urge to throw yourself toward the person as he emerges from the darkest shadowed corner.

But it's not Deku. Elation flips to horror as the lead hunter's son appears with a lecherous grin. He's still a good ten feet away, but you can smell strong booze radiating odd him in nauseating waves. "Why are you here?" you demand. "Only temple attendants are allowed in the prayer spaces alone. You need to leave."

"Do I?" he asks back derisively. Ice floods your veins with his first step. You instinctively shuffle back toward the door. "Because I'm pretty sure I can do what I want. Your temple wouldn't have food without me."

"Without your father," you clarify in a sharp tone. All manners have already been abandoned: this is not the day, and you are not the attendant to bother. You don't want to deal with calling guards or causing a cacophony. You just want to be left alone with your grief.

Your comment makes him clench his jaw. "Without." He takes another heavy step forward, and as he draws closer it becomes apparent how much of a size advantage he has. "Me." He takes another heavy step as your bones ice over. You want to take off, but you're terrified that any sudden movement will just propel him toward you faster, and you're not strong enough to shove the heavy stone door open without a few seconds of effort.

"You're drunk," you point out in hopes of derailing his train of thought. You can feel your pulse thumping hard and fast in your throat. "Go home and sleep it off. I won't tell anyone you were here."

"You think I give a shit f'anyone knows I was here?" he slurs back with increasing volume. "You fuckin' demon worshippers are all th'same, so far up your own ass you wouldn't know a good offer if it kissed you right on th'mouth."

A realization hits you like a brick. "Is this about what happened at my birthday last year?" you ask, using his off-kilter focus to your advantage as you slowly begin to step backward toward the door. "You pushed yourself onto me and wouldn't let me go until I kissed your cheek, then you threatened to drop me off the roof if I didn't accept your marriage proposal on the spot. Do you…" You cut yourself off. Of course he doesn't remember. He'd been just as off his head back then as he is now.

"I was only joking!" he retorts. "Why would I drop m'future wife off a roof? Thasstupid. Y're nuts for thinking I'd actually go through with it."

You successfully baby-step your way to within reach of the carved inlet that serves as the door handle. Just keep him rambling. You can hit him with the door before you take off. "And you're nuts for thinking anyone would immediately accept a marriage offer from someone who reeks like the bottom of an ale barrel."

You know the second you shoot off your mouth that it wasn't a good move. He tenses on the spot, both hands drawn into club-like fists at either side, his stony features pinched with disgust.

"You sayin' you're too good for me, bitch?"

He rushes forward, too fast for you to get the door more than a crack open before he throws a massive shoulder against it to slam it shut once more. You scream as he grabs the front of your robes, praying it echoes down the hall with your heels dug against the floor in a fruitless effort to prevent him from bodily dragging you toward the empty altar. He's far too strong to break away from. Your nails digging into his wrists seems to not even register, even when blood wells under them. "Let go," you plead, wide eyed fixed on the pedestal as he drags you toward it clawing and kicking the whole way.

Nothing seems to faze him. He forces your upper half over the marble pedestal with enough force to knock the wind out of your lungs. You wheeze under the weight of a forearm that presses hard into your upper back, reinforced by extra weight that's too heavy to roll out from under. You struggle the entire time, unwilling to stop, with everything in you that isn't trying to escape screaming toward the Aether for someone, something, anything to see what's going on and intervene. You've spent your whole life serving this temple… why would the Fae abandon you now?

As you flail, a small brown sparrow lands on the edge of the open roof and peers down directly at you two. It chirps once, clear as a bell, and the sound hits something deep and instinctive in your chest.

You aren't given enough time to ponder. He grabs your scarf from behind without warning and the knot instantly digs into your windpipe as he yanks the garment back in an attempt to rip it off of you. You sputter and flail your hands to signal for him to let go, to warn him of the danger that lingers in your head with Deku's last warning, but it's not enough.

You hear a piece of embroidery thread snap somewhere in his closed fist. A gust of humid air blasts across you and the weight above you disappears immediately, followed by a nauseating crunch of bones breaking amid the shatter of cracked marble. You wail in fear, clutching to the warmth that had drifted through you with both arms over your head as you sob into the marble. You can't bring yourself to move yet.

Where are you? You said you'd be watching out for me…

You finally force yourself upright once you begin to lose circulation in your arms. You wipe your face, sniffling quietly as you turn. You nearly collapse as a petrified shriek rips itself out of your chest: the hunter had been thrown back against the marble wall next to the door with enough force to crater it inward. His unmoving frame is slumped over in the center amid a splash of red that drips heavily off the jagged edges around him.

It isn't the wall that grabs your attention, though: his tunic has been ripped with several round puncture wounds arranged in a rough circle, the apparent source of the blood pooling at his sides. You tremble from head to toe despite the summer breeze coursing through the room. The longer you stare at the hunter's chest wounds and the way they're arranged, the more they begin to look like… 

"Antler wounds."

You smack a hand over your mouth like you'd just hexed someone. He really had been watching out… somehow. What kind of magic had gone into your scarf's embroidered edge? You run your fingers over it, seeking out the thread that snapped. The wind dies out in time for you to hear another set of feet shuffling in the room. It's almost too much; you nearly faint with the panic that latches around your throat. You sway back toward the altar to use for leverage as your knees once again threaten to buckle and are bolstered by a rough set of hands that press against your shoulder blades to keep you upright.

You're too strung out to do anything but gape as Deku - the real one, the same one from the year before with his antlers and freckles and big, terrifying green eyes oh gods he's finally here - steps around and immediately yanks you against his chest. You cling back with both arms circled tight around his ribs and let out another ragged sob into the soft fabric of his cloak.

"Are you okay?" he rumbles. You can only nod back and clutch him like he's keeping you anchored to the ground. You feel his head turn above yours, toward the cracked wall and what remains of the hunter, and a low growl vibrates through him. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I tried to get here as fast as I could." You feel his arms tighten around your upper half, boxing you in and insulating you from the sight behind him.

"You saved me," you manage to choke back. "You don't have to apologize for anything." You step back far enough to wipe at your eyes and clear your sinuses, trembling like a leaf in the circle of his arms. "What was that? What attacked him?" 

Deku's mouth draws into a tense line. "I can't tell you," he replies. "But I know someone who can." You blink, confused by his ambivalence. "Have you considered what we talked about last year?"

…What? "Of course I have," you retort. Your head hurts. Where's that spiced wine when you need it? "But I hardly think this is a time to talk about-"

"No no no, think about it," Deku cuts in hurriedly. "I don't mean this in a threatening way at all, but the people of your village are going to get suspicious when someone turns up dead with a set of puncture wounds to the chest."

Your entire body numbs out with panic. He's right. Your gaze snaps to the top of his head, where a set of now fully grown antlers jut out of his wild verdant curls. You begin to count how many points they have, but shove the impulse away with disgust. You don't want to know. Even if you did, it's probably for the best to remain ignorant for now.

Voices echo through the open roof from somewhere beyond, possibly the temple courtyard. "I have to go," he says with a hint of genuine hurt. "They can't find me."

This is too much. The decision to leave was always supposed to be planned out. You've had an entire year to get everything ready, only to have your plans shattered into jagged chunks of broken marble by a drunk hunter and some creature powerful enough to kill him with velocity alone. You clutch yourself to his chest again as panic grips your throat with white-hot claws. "We'll find a way to come back, right?" you whisper with a silent prayer of hope to the entire cosmos.

He nods. "I swear it on my name." He pushes you gingerly by the shoulders so he can look you in the face again, his own tense with mounting anxiety. "We have to go now, my sparrow. Please… I'm begging you, come with me. I don't want to go back without you again." His hands tighten over your shoulders as tears well up along the edges of his wide green eyes. "Please."

It feels like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and flung out through the open roof. You open your mouth to blurt out some pained apology for making him assume you'd say no, the voices outside growing louder and clearer in the pause, but can only choke around a whimper as everything you want to say jams in your throat. Instead you simply nod, a single weak incline of your head.

That's all it takes for him to scoop you around the waist again and drag you both sideways toward the corner where he appeared. "You might be kind of shocked when we get through," he warns as he hurls you both toward the marble seam you're convinced is going to split your head open on contact. "Hold your breath!"

The command is sharp enough to make your lungs draw in a deep inhale without conscious thought. Your eyes snap shut as your forehead approaches the shadowed corner; it meets only an icy wall of air as the lights beyond your closed eyelids pitches black. You can feel Deku holding you around the waist, an anchor that keeps you tethered to your own sanity as he rushes you through the dark at breakneck pace. The icy rush whipping against your face seems to deplete the lungful of air you're still stubbornly holding onto and within seconds they're screaming for relief. Deku smacks a hand over your mouth just when you think you're going to break and try to take a breath, and a second later you're both tumbling across the stone floor of an unfamiliar but warm kitchen.

---

Part 4

The second your head stops spinning long enough to see again, you realize there's a woman standing between you and Deku. You weakly recognize the faded emerald of the hair she has trimmed neatly at her shoulders. You glance her over and realize with a jump that the skin you can see around her modest summer dress is a pale shamrock green.

"By the gods, who's chasing you now?"

You blink from where you've landed in a sprawl sprawl against an ornately carved kitchen cabinet, too dizzy from the rush of air that fills your lungs when you take a greedy inhale to answer immediately (even though the question was clearly directed at Deku, who landed upside down with his long legs arched over his head against a stone hearth in a corner of the kitchen). You take another breath, but the bottoms of your lungs feel heavy like they've been filled with a thick gas. Deku slumps over to right himself and immediately looks to you. You're beginning to breathe faster as exhaustion gives way to panic.

The woman turns, fixing you with a look of shock that probably rivals your own. She's a spitting image of Deku, down to the ear points that poke out of her silver-streaked hair and the way her eyes go impossibly wide with genuine emotion. "You're human!" she exclaims.

You nod back, too panicked to form proper words. "Oh… oh, you're human!" 

She jumps into motion like she'd just been zapped by a bolt of lightning. She procures a large wooden bowl from a cabinet and fills it with a few handfuls of herbs snatched from dried bundles hanging over the hearth, then steaming water from a kettle that she carefully pulls out from its resting place in the coals. She mutters something in a lilt you can't follow as the bowl is set on the floor in front of you, the woman following suit to kneel on the other side. "Lean down and breathe through the steam," she instructs gently, tilting down to encourage the motion. "The air here is different from the other side. You need to coat your lungs before they start rejecting the pollen floating around."

You tilt forward with a choked noise of panic and take as deep of a breath as you can with the steaming water wafting up across your face. Relief finds you immediately: you can draw a breath all the way to the bottom of your lungs, which takes the edge off your panic enough to finally slow down your respiration rate.

"There you go," the woman encourages gently. She rests a small, comforting hand between your shoulders that's shockingly cold for how warm the kitchen is. "You should be fine now." She turns to give her son an exasperated look. "You brought a human back without giving her anything to prepare?"

"I didn't have a choice!" Deku pleads back. "It was that or risk an entire war on their side-" 

The woman holds up a hand to stop him and Deku immediately obeys. "Hold on," she says slowly, turning back to look at you with both brows raised. Her gaze drops to your neck and freezes. "You're the temple girl, the one he's been going to see."

The room goes silent, spare the crackling of the fireplace and your own rapid heartbeat. The older dryad watches, still as stone as she takes you in with one long look before staring at the fabric around your neck once more. All you can do is nod back. something akin to pain flashes across her face and she sits up with a fond smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but I think it might be best if you let my son explain a majority of them over some tea. You look exhausted."

My son. "So you're Deku's mother?"

The dryad wrinkles her nose. "Yes," she replies stiffly. "Though I very much dislike his chosen name. It's undignified." She turns to Deku again. "You haven't given her your name yet?"

Deku waves his hands in front of him and goldfishes for a response before you cut in. "It's not his fault," you quickly counter. "I didn't want to offer mine. I was raised in a temple that had some pretty strict rules against that in particular."

"Understandable. Though I can't say I'm thrilled at the prospect of my own son having courted someone for nearly an entire year-" (Courted, what!?) "-Without even having offered his name."

"I did offer it!"

His mother chuckles. "I have to fetch someone who will be of much more significant counsel than I, but that will give you two some time to settle in."

You nod in acknowledgment, but her words don't really process in your brain. Now that you're breathing normally again, exhaustion has begun to creep into your bones. You'd been going on fumes before the hunter decided to ambush you, and now that you've quietly literally been flung through a Fae circle it's hard to do anything but lean against the cabinet. The dryad brushes her hand over your shoulder as she passes on her way out. "My name is Inko" echoes through your own head with the contact, jarring you into a sharp yelp, which only makes her chuckle in the same light-as-air way as Deku.

"Well… this is a hell of a way to meet someone's parents."

Said dryad has found his feet and is watching you with a sheepish smile, a hand absently scratching at the base of an antler. "At least it's over now?"

Your head thumps back against the cabinet. This is too much. You need to sleep. If you don't find somewhere to lay down soon, your body is going to give out. "Could we just…" You glance around the kitchen and into the room beyond, where another hearth flickers around a circle of ornately carved wooden den furniture. Perfect.

He follows your line of sight and seems to catch on without you having to finish your request. He moves toward you, arms extended to help you to your feet. When you wobble upon standing he immediately seams your sides up to take a gentle lead toward the sitting room. The furniture all looks hand-carved, the seats made up of soft animal hides that look older than both of you. He lays you down on the longest bench with a small blanket under your head for a pillow, the deerhide that's draped over the back of the sofa gently pulled across you for a proper blanket.

"We can talk later." He leans down to press a kiss to your temple. You groan as he turns to move away, an arm shooting out from under the hide to grab his tunic and hold him in place.

"Wait," you plead quietly, fatigue tugging heavily at your eyelids. "Please stay with me, at least until I fall asleep." You have no idea where you are or how long you'll be out. All you know is Deku being gone means you're here alone and you absolutely cannot bear that thought.

A soft smile breaks across his face. "Of course," he murmurs back. "Anything you need, just like I promised." You scoot to make room and he steps over to fit himself between you and the back of the sofa without prompting. This is what you really needed: a space heater behind you, a fire in front, and a strong arm draping itself over your midsection to hold the knotted ends of your scarf as you both drift off. If nothing else, Deku has more than proven he'll kill anything that comes near you… or at least has access to something that can.

He's still there when you come to. The lighting in the room hasn't changed when you open your eyes to peer around, and it isn't until now that you notice neither the kitchen nor den have any windows. The fire has burned down to a low pile of flickering embers, which means you were at least out long enough to burn through what had been there earlier. With no view of the sun, however, it's impossible to tell how long you were out.

Your stirring rouses Deku, who grunts in his sleep and pulls you back into his chest. The arm cradled under yours has turned an eerie cold. When it registers you sit up to face him, concerned until it snaps into another bolt of shock.

You yelp and fall off the edge of the sofa. Deku's skin has turned a shade of green identical to his mother's, his freckles standing out in sharp contrast. He bolts upright as well, looking around for the source of the panic before he spots you on the floor, half covered by the deer hide you'd accidentally tugged with you. "What's wrong?" he asks urgently, glancing around again.

"You're…"

He gives you a puzzled look, then glances down to where you're staring at his forearms. "Oh!" His hands rub absently at the opposite forearm as his cheeks flush ever so slightly. "Uh… yeah. I told you you might be a little shocked."

Shit. You did it again. You push yourself up to scoot onto the end of the sofa near his feet, and he respectfully folds his legs up to his chest to give you room without having to make contact. It's a gesture you appreciate, but not one you (or him) necessarily need. You sidle up to his shins, where you lean your side with your hands acting as a chin rest on his knees.

"Surprised is more the word," you clarify before poking your tongue out at him playfully. "A little advance notice would have been nice."

"Hey now," Deku chuckles. "I tried. We had a solid plan going there for a minute." He reaches a hand forward and, with a twitch of hesitation, shifts a lock of hair off your forehead and behind an ear. His fingertips are ice cold, a sharp juxtaposition to the warmth in his tone and the care with which he brushes across your skin. "I'm glad you're here, regardless of how it came to be. I've thought of you every single day since my last visit."

How had anyone mistaken dryads for monsters? If the others are a fraction as kind as Deku and his mother, then they've been handed a grave injustice when it comes to human comprehension of their kind. You lean your head toward his hand and he opens his fingers. Your cheek brushes against his weathered palm, eliciting a shiver that courses down your back as the temperature of his skin clashes against the warmth of the den. For a long moment you simply exist, anchored by the green stare fixed upon your own and the callused thumb that smooths over your cheek. Whatever it takes for you to keep this kind of tenderness around will be well worth the effort. You've already decided (long ago, you silently realize) that he is the only one you ever want to be this close to you.

"Do I make you nervous?"

You're taken back to the altar room for a moment as you recall the image of Deku sitting on the pedestal, bathed in pale light with the cicadas humming behind his ethereal laugh. "No," you reply truthfully, hushed and reverent in the slowly disappearing space between you as you both lean forward. Both your eyelids lower as you both lean closer. It's a chaste contact when Deku leans in to kiss you, as soft as his tone and the way he brushes the rest of your hair from the side of your face. Within a few seconds, the soft contact is enough to have you melting against his hand.

A deep male voice breaks the reverie from somewhere behind Deku: "Ah, excuse us…"

This time you both jump hard enough to nearly land on your asses. Deku pushes himself back until he thumps against the arm rest of the sofa as Inko enters the room, followed by what can only be described as a mountain of a man with wild goldenrod hair and deep-set sclera black eyes, their vivid contrasting pupils locked directly on you as he and the dryad approach.

"I hate to be a bother and intrude on such a formative moment, but Inko was insistent upon checking to make sure you're both still alive." He bows his head in deep apology. You're startled by how easily he seems to hold himself level with the massive antlers jutting out of his hair; they're taller than his head and several inches wider on either side. As you force yourself to not take count of the antler points, you vaguely wonder to yourself how he fits through doorways or in anything less than giant-sized.

Deku rises to his feet, and you quickly follow suit. "Ahh, this is my father," he says quickly. "I get the feeling you two are going to be fast friends."

"If you're willing to risk traversal sickness for her, she's got to be worth her weight in gold," the man booms back. He approaches with a hand the size of a serving platter toward you, the deep lines of his face bent around a beaming grin you recognize on the spot. "My name is Yagi Toshinori. Don't worry, it's safe to introduce yourself to me. I'm not Fae."

You twitch your head to the side but take his hand to shake it anyway, suddenly flummoxed. "But the antlers…"

"A by-product of the life I've found for myself." He lifts an arm as Inko steps up to his side and lays it over her back. It's kind of amusing to see such a small woman under the arm of a moving mountain, but the care with which he moves about her is heart-warmingly familiar. "All by choice, zero regrets."

The two of them take a seat on a smaller bench in the den, and you and Deku take your seats once they're both settled. "The drop in is rough, eh? That ice tunnel is awful."

You frown back. "How did you find this place?" 

"I didn't find this place." He puts his arm behind Inko's neck, who leans into him with an appreciative hum. "I found my wife first. She's the one who brought me here."

You can't help but laugh, and mercifully the other three join in. "That sounds familiar," you reply through a chuckle.

"It happens less than it used to, but it's not unheard of," Inko adds. "I had a feeling my son would be following in my footsteps."

There's just enough flatness to her words that you squirm on the spot. "I hope that's not a bad thing," Deku says as he draws himself closer to your side. "Unless my logic is severely flawed, there wouldn't be a son to follow in your footsteps if you hadn't done it first."

Yagi lets out an undignified snort. Inko tries to frown, but it breaks around a smile as she nods in defeat. "All the same, I wish this hadn't been so sudden," she adds. "Not that I'm upset you're here now-" She holds a hand up quickly toward you. "-It was just rather abrupt. I wish we could have had time to prepare a proper welcome."

You glance down to your lap. "Deku saved me from something terrible," you respond quietly. "We didn't really have a choice in the matter." You look up again to offer the older dryad an encouraging smile. "Though rest assured he's been nothing but respectful the entire time I've known him." You bow your head politely. "Your hospitality is much appreciated. Thank you for giving me shelter."

Something behind Inko's eyes softens enough to make your heart twist. She watches you for a long moment, studying you as you do your best to not squirm. "The door has been opened for this place to potentially become your home," she replies to break the silence. "No need to speak of it as a foreign place. You already belong."

You feel Deku draw in a sharp breath. When you glance up to him he's hastily wiping his eyes on the back of his free hand. "Don't mind me," he chirps with a slight tremble. "This is normal. Been a crybaby since I was a sapling."

"You are not a crybaby," Yagi jabs back as he casually swipes a thumb under one of his eyes. "You have a heart."

And I wonder where he gets it, you think to yourself as you lean into Deku's side to comfort him.

The situation that brought Deku's parents together is so similar to your own it's almost eerie: Toshinori had been a well-known hunter from another village who found himself "lost" during an extended journey into the forest; in reality, he'd been lured away from the village so a team of rogues could take him out and claim his hunting grounds. He reached out for Inko, who'd already been coming around in a similar fashion to Deku responding to your meditation, and she answered by snaring the entire group in a wave of venom-thorned vines before sweeping him through a circle and away from the chaos. They were married within a year, and Deku came along a few years after that.

"It's oddly romantic, when you take out the death-by-murder-vine part," you offer to keep the mood light. All three of them laugh, especially Inko, who chortles behind her hand until her cheeks turn pink.

Something is digging at you, though. You can't let the entire moment go without at least trying to ask. "You said you're human," you repeat to Yagi. "But you also say the antlers come from magic. I thought we couldn't access magic."

"We can't," he replies casually. Thank goodness, you'd been incredibly nervous about broaching such a personal subject. "Not by default, at least. Humans haven't earned the right as a whole. However, sometimes things happen and the magic itself chooses someone who might be worth it." He nods toward the scarf tied around your neck. "Not just anyone can affect a connection through something like that. It takes something predetermined by forces beyond our control for that connection to be forged at all."

The air in your lungs evaporates. "So this was fate."

Yagi nods sagely. "Yes, as was me coming here. We aren't the first, and we won't be the last." He jabs a finger at Deku, who's taken to clinging to your side like a newborn bear cub. "His antlers, however, come from a direct blood connection to feral magic. He's full dryad, and it'll be even more apparent once he's eventually the most powerful one."

The world screeches to a halt amid Yagi's beaming pride. You feel Deku go very, very still next to you. "Um… I beg your pardon?"

"The Ascendant," Inko answers. "There is a thread of feral magic more concentrated than anything else recorded in our history. It chooses who it resides within, and whoever that force chooses is essentially the most powerful being in our charted world." She inclines her head toward her son. "And one day that will be him."

You look between the two of them, then back to Yagi. "So that means you're the Ascendant."

"For the moment. My time is coming to an end soon. I've served my purpose, so it's time for the next cycle to begin."

"You don't mean…"

Yagi's eyes go wide. "Oh no no no, I'm not going to die, dear," he booms. "It's time for me to pass along my power. I'm fortunate to have a successor in time, and it would seem like this little excursion is a good indicator he might be prepared for it."

"We don't know that," Deku cuts in, and it isn't until now that you notice how flushed his cheeks are. "It'll happen if it's meant to happen, right?" You lay a hand on his knee that's immediately covered by one of his own. He sags into your side in quiet gratitude.

Inko nods. "And it hasn't happened yet, so we won't fret about it for now." Her tone is soft, but there's a comforting finality ronit that effectively ends the subject for discussion.

You're given a tour of their house, which Deku fervently clarifies is not the place where he's lived for several years (Inko replies with a smug "And yet there's almost always a third plate at the table", which seems to be more than enough for him to take a back seat with his dad and let Inko lead them around). She walks you through the lower floor, where several cozy bedrooms are situated around a circular pit set into the floor. The center is full of a myriad of cushions and pillows in an eye-catching pile of patterns and colors all jumbled together in a space wide enough to fit at least three Yagis with extra foot room. "You can pick any of the empty rooms for yourself," Inko says to you sweetly before shooting a pointed look toward her son, who drops his head and shuffles anxiously on the spot. "But I ask that you remain in yours. I know you're grown, but this is my-"

Deku squirms harder. "Yep, got it," he confirms hastily. It's clear there's literally anything else he'd rather be talking about. "Can we start dinner? I'm starving."

Your stomach audibly rumbles at the mention of food. Yes, that's an excellent idea for more than one reason. When is the last time you ate? If you can't remember, it's probably been way too long. Yagi sweeps everyone toward the stairs with both arms stretched to herd them forward. You silently thank him with a smile as he squeezes your shoulder on the way past.

Four people working at once means dinner is made with a quickness, something you're intensely grateful for when you finally sit down to ea. Your stomach hurts from lack of food so much it almost hurts more to eat until you've got enough sustenance in you to level out. You see to the tableware afterward as Deku cleans what remains of the kitchen mess. The other two take their leave for the night with one last round of greeting, Inko's eyes trained on her son as she warns him about "straying past boundaries" on the way toward the stairs, her husband chortling the whole time.

You and Deku wait in silence until a door audibly opens and closes again. "Well," Deku chirps as he turns to face you with an equally cheeky grin. "I guess I'll bid you goodnight here as well. I'll show you where I live tomorrow, once we've both had a chance to sleep." He takes your hand and kisses the back of it with a dramatic bow. "Sweet dreams, my sparrow."

You snort and take your hand back, but not before giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. "Good night, Deku." His grin turns sly as he moves off to his own room, leaving you to find the smallest unoccupied bedroom for yourself.

---

Part 5

The next morning both Inko and Yagi see you both out, the former not allowing her son to leave the house before he's verbally promised to come by soon (and in a hushed whisper to keep you safe). It isn't until you're outside that the lack of windows is explained: the front of Inko's home is set underneath the roots of a gargantuan tree that juts straight up toward the sky in a massive straight line. You peer upward toward the canopy, but it's so far above the other trees the bare trunk is swallowed by the forest crown on all sides with no way to see beyond. The house sits at the head of a narrow trail with more angled trees visible down the road. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get settled," he reminds, offering you a bent elbow.

You smile and slip a hand onto his forearm. You take the short walk to his home in lockstep, Deku's skin cooler in the open breeze where it brushes under your fingers. The air is heavy with humidity and the chill of a light fog that hovers over the trail as you walk down it, bugs chirping and creaking from the grass on either side of the path. It's… idyllic.

Deku's house is almost identical to Inko's, but it's only a single floor and houses, much to your delight, a natural spring under the kitchen. He waves you toward it with a grin and something about a fresh tunic, but that devious little glint in his eye is back when he meanders off to change his clothes as you see yourself downstairs.

The hot spring is a deep pool in its own room with a shallow end that slopes up to the water's edge. The torch-illuminated rock wall behind it shimmers with a stream of water that runs down from somewhere above and down into the pool in a soft, trickling wall, next to a sitting area has been carved out of the rock to the right side of the pool. You dig out a couple of towels and a robe made of butter-soft material from a cabinet before ridding yourself of your dirty temple garb and every garment underneath it, your prized scarf folded lovingly on top of the pile before everything gets placed in a basket next to the edge of the pool. You can't bring yourself to leave the scarf somewhere out of arm's reach, and your robes are the last real thing you own.

The water is hot when you step onto the shallowest shelf, not enough to burn but definitely enough to pull a groan of satisfaction from you as you eagerly step in until you're submerged to your bare chest. Every muscle in your back begins to unclench themselves within seconds. You sink lower into the water, past your chin with a slow inhale and all the way down until your knees touch the stone floor of the pool. Everything goes quiet in a rush of water: it fills your ears and drowns out everything else but the odd bubble of warmth you've found below the water's surface. Your nerves balm themselves over for the first time since flying through the ring amid the trickling quiet. I's just you here, with no one else to drop another surprise on you. You stay submerged as long as you can before pushing back up to breach the surface with a satisfied gasp, your head clearer than it's been for days.

You wipe at your face to clear your eyes of excess water and the first thing you see is Deku hovering at the edge of the shallow bank, a towel slung low over his hips. You yelp and jump back amid a slosh of water, partially out of shock and partially to keep yourself from immediately staring at his bare torso. It isn't enough to stave off the newfound knowledge that he's built like a sprint courier and that he's very, very much naked under the towel. "Gods, you've got to quit startling me," you whimper as you swipe a wet hand over your face.

Deku laughs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. To be fair, you were underwater when I opened the door."

You grouse back, but it has no heat. He's right.

"Can I join you?"

Your playful frown turns genuine. "I thought that was understood."

"You didn't say I could come close. You're vulnerable right now. If you tell me to stay out, I will."

"You're very polite for someone who's already stripped down."

His cheeks flush bright pink. "I was hopeful," he replies in an obvious attempt to be aloof, but it doesn't quite mesh with the way he keeps jerking his gaze away from the surface of the water (and, you realize with a bolt of mortification, a clear enough view of your naked form for him to definitely see). "But I meant what I said."

The urge to test him and see what happens flashes through you, but it doesn't seem worth the effort. At the end of it all, you do want him to come closer. You step toward him, willing yourself to keep moving as the water lowers enough to expose your chest. Deku seems equally dead-set on keeping his eyes raised, your flushes a matching shade of garish pink now and getting deeper as you come within arm's reach of him and offer a hand.

"Please?"

His hesitation snaps in an instant. Deku throws the towel aside and hurtles toward the pool, only giving you barely enough time to step aside and avoid the splash of water that cascades over you. He resurfaces and shakes his hair out before turning to face you, grinning from ear to ear. "Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?"

Given your own doubts, there's only one real way to tell. You take the initiative and glide toward him in two long steps and snake your arms around his neck. As soon as you're in reach he pulls you in by the waist and kisses the air right out of your lungs. You break away for a breath, but as soon as you've gotten it he tugs you again and the kiss quickly grows sharper with edges of teeth that clack together every time one of you readjusts your head. A hand pushes into your hair to cradle the back of your head; when you tilt into the angle of his hand he presses his tongue past your lips and all bets are off.

The delicacy with which he's touched you so far is gone. Deku kisses like he's been starved of contact for years on end. You give back everything you're given with enthusiasm until you're both struggling to inhale. A dam has been broken: every bit of excitement, fear, doubt, and loneliness that's eaten at you over the years rushes forth in a tidal wave and it's all you can do to cling to him and hope you're not going to wake up in your own bed at any second.

You finally separate with a wet pop. The both of you hover close enough to brush together as you struggle to regain some composure. Deku sighs quietly, his chest still rising and falling hard enough to disturb the water around him. "So I'm not dreaming," he says quietly. "Good. I dunno if I could have handled waking up without you again."

His admission wobbles around a thread of genuine hurt that has you pulling him into a tight hug, your arms wrapped around him tight. You circle your fingernails over the backs of his shoulders in lazy circles. "You don't have to," you murmur into his ear. "We're both here now." Which, wow that's a wild truth, but it's a truth nonetheless.

Deku clings back with his face buried in the crook of your neck. A silence lapses with only trickling water to fill the gap. There's no need for either of you need to say anything: there's a wealth of communication in the reciprocal drags of his nails, the tiny ghosting pecks he leaves under your ear, the little sighs when you drag your nails up toward his neck. You're more than aware of the fact that there's something hard pressing into your lower stomach that definitely isn't his abs, but your curiosity can wait.

He doesn't seem to agree. The pecks along your throat lengthen into full kisses as he settles above the thump of your pulse. A faint drag of teeth makes you jump and he muffles a laugh into your neck. "So jumpy," he purrs.

You give him a nip to an earlobe in retaliation. He jumps on the spot as you chuckle into his ear: "Who's jumpy?"

That seems to hit a switch. You're pulled up and out of the water in one unceremonious grab as Deku hauls you over a shoulder. Your yelp echoes off the walls but he pays them no mind, spare a wet smack to your bare ass. He doesn't leave you with any other real option besides being hauled out of the spring and up the stairs once again.

His room is somewhere deep in the house. It's impossible to ascertain exactly what anything looks like while you're slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, so when he shuts the door of a bedroom warmed by a crackling floor pit it's a bit of a shock.

You fully expect to be thrown down, but instead he braces you under the knees and neck to set you on an impossibly soft blanket stretched across his bed. He steps back, a look of apprehension on his features when they come back into view. "As much as I want this," he says as your sense of gravity corrects itself. "I won't touch you unless you want me to. That was rather… abrupt, and I apologize for it."

It takes a second for you to realize why he's even apologizing. The guilt twisting across his face is what makes it click: you hadn't told him to pick you up. It's your turn to frown as you lean toward him. "I'm not mad," you offer gently. "But I appreciate your apology. It's okay. I want to be here."

Deku's apprehension ebbs, but doesn't completely disappear. "You give me your word?"

You nod without hesitation. His smile returns immediately, radiant amid the firelight, and your stomach flips with elation as he eagerly closes the distance between you.

He settles low between your spread knees, a solid weight that keeps you in place without much room to breathe, let alone think. You're dizzy with the intensity, but you kiss him back with every bit of fervor you're given. Deku groans against your flattened tongues. "Can I taste you?"

You nod without opening your eyes and the weight above you slides downward. It's definitely for the best that you hadn't watched him move: a long, hot tongue drags up your slit and draws your back up off the bed in a graceful arc. He seizes you around the waist with a muffled groan.

He takes you apart with a ferocity that's almost scary. Sharp dives of his tongue punctuate the moments he's not wrapped around your core, alternating every time your wails start to get louder or shake apart. You grip at the blanket above your head for an anchor, but abandon it in favor of the verdant curls on top of his head when a cruel twist of his tongue has you pushing nearly all the way off the bed.

His name flying past your lips mixes with a weak moan from the juncture where his face is buried. "Watch the horns," he whimpers (gods, it shouldn't be so hot to hear someone's voice crack). "But do that again."

You tighten your grip obligingly. His head pulls ever so slightly against your grip when he returns to devouring you with a newfound focus. Something thick prods past your folds and you jerk your head up in surprise, but it's a critical mistake. You're afforded a full view of him with his tongue pressed flat to your core and two thick fingers burying themselves to the thickest knuckle and it rips you right over the edge before you can even draw a breath.

He coaxes you through it, drinking you down with your thighs wedged directly over his ears. When you can finally move them away, you're almost concerned you might have hurt him. But then he sits up, his chin shining in the dim light with a wet grin planted just above it, and there's absolutely no doubt he was just as into it as you were. Your own grin edges on feral. "You gonna stop there, or are you gonna take care of yourself as well?"

Deku snorts with an edge of derision that has you shivering. "You think I'm done with you?"

Oh.

He's back in position with one sharp swoop. This time he throws either leg over his own, splaying your knees wide around his ribs. A wave of self-awareness punches you square in the gut as he drags his eyes down the length of your exposed frame. "Incredible," he breathes. "I've never seen anything as beautiful as you."

You squirm, but will yourself to remain still. It's almost too much. There's so much tenderness behind the wild thrum shaking through him you're not sure how you even deserve it. Thankfully, his patience seems to run out just as your resolve to remain still snaps. He kisses you again as something thicker presses into you, drawing out a prolonged moan from both of you that breaks off when your laps settle together. "Hang on," Deku grunts hard against your lips. "N-need a second."

He's shaking under your arms where they're circled around his neck, but that could very easily also be you. "Yeah. Gods, Deku, you're-"

"Izuku."

The entire room goes still. He locks eyes with you, his own blown wide with only a ring of gold-flecked emerald left. Fear jumps across them while his throat bibs around a hard swallow. "That's my name. I just want you to have it. You don't have to give me yours."

Fear twists your heart for just a beat before it's replaced by a heavy warmth. You reach a hand up toward his face where it hovers just above yours, tentative and soft, the finger that curls his hair behind an ear ever so gentle. "Soon," you whisper back.

Izuku beams. "I'll wait as long as it takes."

Your lips crash together again, both of them curved upward around matching smiles. Izuku sets up a pace that keeps you close while still allowing him to take the lead and kiss the air out of your lungs, skin softly popping together with shallow thrusts without stopping. He has each hip in hand again with a grip that slowly increases with his breathing. Before long you're both panting into each other's ear, your head thrown back while he worries your throat with his teeth and grunts with barely restrained need.

"Won't last long," he rumbles.

You nod your acknowledgment. You've been a puddle since the second he laid you on the bed and took you apart like a prized garment. It's only fair he ends up just as boneless as you. You set your knees around his ribs to lift yourself into him, but both knees are pushed to the bed just as quickly. Izuku is watching where your bodies meet with a feverish focus. He doesn't seem entirely aware that he's got you completely splayed open but he thrusts hard and deep anyway, guttural noises punching out of him in time with the snapping of wet skin.

He finds an angle that seems to hit right up into your midsection and it's all over. He rips a wail out of you before your mouths are sealed together again, his pace unrelenting. You fall apart hard enough to make your entire frame quake under his grip, which has tightened enough to leave deep bruises where his fingers dig into your thighs. Just when it feels like you might actually have to tap out or risk going unconscious he thrusts in one more time with a sharp growl, then another, then a final one deep in his chest as he rolls himself into your hips and finally paints your insides white hot.

You're both trembling like leaves when he finally collapses on top of you again. You run your nails through the damp curls over his temples as he returns the favor along your hips, idle and tender despite the harsh bruises you can feel blooming along your inner thighs. Your breathing comes back slowly as you lazily kiss through the aftershocks, hands never ceasing in their wandering. It's a perfect feedback loop of calm and relief with only the fire to witness in the otherwise empty house.

As your breathing returns to normal you nudge Izuku up enough to meet his eyes. They've gone back to their normal emerald, the flicker of the fire catching hair-thin veins of gold. With the curved points of his horns looming overhead and flush-kissed shamrock skin, he should be some kind of intimidating. Instead, you can't stop staring at him. He's ethereal, more so than anything you've ever seen in any tome or heard in any story. He's real. He's flesh and bone and big, soft eyes and a heart entirely too warm for a creature who could take down minotaurs bare-handed.

And yet he looks at you like you're made of Faerie porcelain.

The corners of your mouth curl upward. You beckon for him to lean forward again and he does so, seemingly as transfixed as you. You pull him down so your lips can brush the shell of his ear and, after a ghosting kiss to his cheek, you whisper your name.

[a-queer-seminarian]

Jesus flipping tables: a more accurate & respectful reading

This post shares a large chunk of chapter two of Amy-Jill Levine’s book Entering the Passion of Jesus. (Read the whole chapter as a PDF here.) Levine is a Jewish woman who is also a Professor of New Testament Studies.

Levine combats traditional readings of the text with their antisemitic layers by evincing how Jesus’s anger reflects the anger of his predecessors Jeremiah and Zechariah — an anger focused not on the simple fact that sacrificial animals were sold in the Temples’ outer courts, but on the way the Temple (like many of our worship spaces today) had become a safe place for corrupt oppressors, who behaved as if their daily atrocities would be overlooked by God if they paid for a sacrifice every now and again.

TL;DR: to sum up Levine’s points, she evinces how:

Jesus’s whole table flipping, whip-wielding stunt is more symbolic than practical (echoing similar stunts pulled by his people’s prophets).

Some have argued Jesus is mad about gentiles not being allowed to worship in the temple, but they very much were welcome. (There were places and rituals off limits to them, just as there are certain things non-members can’t do in our own worship spaces, like take communion or be on a committee). 

Jesus wasn’t pissed about animals being sold in the temple’s outer courts; that was normal and logical. There’s also no evidence of exploitation or unjust prices, so he’s not angry about the poor being cheated here either.

Jesus did not reject the Temple, or its laws & rituals! He followed them himself and helped restore people to them. (He even has “zeal for his father’s house.”)

Jesus also isn’t condemning the high priest or other priests with his actions here. That’s just not in the text; plus Caiaphas’s worry about Jesus’s actions inciting political violence that could harm his people were reasonable.

What Jesus is communicating with his table flipping and whip-wielding: he’s upset that the Temple is as “a den of thieves,” a place where people who sin and oppress in their everyday life feel perfectly comfortable, instead of feeling called to repent and reform. His words hearken back to previous prophets with similar concerns.

And finally, in the version of this story told in John’s Gospel, Jesus seems to be looking forward to a time when the Temple is no longer needed, for all places will be sacred and God will speak directly to everyone of every nation -- once again, Jesus is hearkening back to previous prophets who looked forward to the same thing. This is also a concept that the Pharisees were into, so stop depicting the Pharisees as “evil” or “backwards” or completely at odds with Jesus! (One key difference between Jesus’s vision and the Pharisees’ if of course that Jesus identifies a “new temple,” his own body.)

One last thing: if you’re unfamiliar with the various Gospel versions of the “temple cleansing” -- Matthew 21:12-17, Mark 11:11-17, Luke 19:45-46, and John 2:13-17 -- or want to reference them as you read this post, visit this webpage to read them all.

Without further ado -- the excerpt from Levine.

________________

The incident known as the ‘Cleansing of the Temple’ is described in all four Gospels. Most people have the idea--probably from Hollywood--that this is a huge disruption. When we see this scene depicted in movies, we find Jesus fuming with anger, and we inevitably see gold coins falling down in slow motion. Everything in the Temple comes to a standstill. ...But we are not watching a movie: we are studying the Gospels. 

Here's what we know about the actual setting. We begin by noting that the Temple complex was enormous. It was the size of twelve soccer fields put end to end. So, if Jesus turns over a table or two in one part of the complex, it's not going to make much of a difference given the size of the place.

The action therefore did not stop all business; it is symbolic rather than practical. Our responsibility is to determine what was symbolized.

For that, we need to know how the Temple functioned.

The Jerusalem Temple, which King Herod the Great began to rebuild and which was still under construction at the time of Jesus, had several courts. The inner sanctum, known as the "Holy of Holies," is where the high priest entered, only on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, to ask for forgiveness for himself and for the people. Outside of that was the Court of the Priests, then the Court of Israel, the Court of the Women, and then the Court of the Gentiles, who were welcome to worship in the Temple. 

The outer court, the Court of the Gentiles, is where the vendors sold their goods. The Temple at the time of Jesus was many things: it was a house of prayer for all nations; it was the site for the three pilgrimage festivals of Passover, Shavuot/Pentecost, and Sukkot/Booths; it was a symbol of Jewish tradition (we might think of it as comparable, for the Jewish people of the time, to how Americans might view the Statue of Liberty); it was the national bank, and it was the only place in the Jewish world where sacrifices could be offered. Therefore, there needed to be vendors on site.

Pilgrims who sought to offer doves (such as Mary and Joseph do, following the birth of Jesus, according to Luke 2:24) or a sheep for the Passover meal would not bring the animals with them from Galilee or Egypt or Damascus. They would not risk the animal becoming injured and so unfit for sacrifice. The animal might fly or wander away, be stolen, or die. And, as one of my students several years ago remarked, "The pilgrims might get hungry on the way." One bought one's offering from the vendors.

And, despite Hollywood, and sermon after sermon, there is no indication that the vendors were overcharging or exploiting the population. The people would not have allowed that to happen. Thus, Jesus is not engaging in protest of cheating the poor.

Next, we need to think of the Temple as something other than what we think of churches. A church, usually, is a place of quiet and decorum. ...The Temple was something much different: It was a tourist attraction, especially during the pilgrimage festivals. It was very crowded, and it was noisy. The noise was loud and boisterous, and because it was Passover, people were happy because they were celebrating the Feast of Freedom. ...We might think of the setting as a type of vacation for the pilgrims: a chance to leave their homes, to catch up with friends and relatives, to see the "big city," and to feel a special connection with their fellow Jews and with God. It is into this setting that Jesus comes.

______________

Driving out the Vendors 

...It seems to me that Jesus, in the Temple, was angry. But what so angered him? I hear from a number of people, whether my students in class or congregations who have invited me to speak with them, that the Temple must have been a dreadful institution; that it exploited the poor; that it was in cahoots with Rome; that Caiaphas, the High Priest in charge of the Temple, was a terrible person; that it banned Gentiles from worship and so displayed hatred of foreigners; and so forth. ...Some tell me that the Temple imposed oppressive purity laws that forbade people from entering, and so Jesus, who rejected those laws, rejected the temple as well. No wonder Jesus wants to destroy the institution.

But none of those views fits what we know about either Jesus or history.

First, Jesus did not hate the Temple, and he did not reject it. If he did, then it makes no sense that his followers continued to worship there. Jesus himself calls the Temple "my Father's house" (Luke 7:49: John 2:16). ...

Second, Jesus is not opposed to purity laws. To the contrary, he restores people to states of ritual purity. Even more, he tells a man whom he has cured of leprosy, "Go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them" (Mark 1:44; see also Matthew 8:4; Luke 5:14). 

Third, Jesus says nothing about the Temple exploiting the population. As we'll see in the next chapter, when we talk about the widow who makes an offering of her two coins, Jesus is concerned not with what the Temple charges, but with the generosity of the worshipers. 

Fourth, we've already seen that the Temple has an outer court, where Gentiles are welcome to worship. They were similarly welcome in the synagogues of antiquity, and today. They do not have the same rights and responsibilities as do Jews, and that makes sense as well. When I [a Jewish woman] visit a church, there are certain things I may not do. We might also think of how nations function: Canadians, for example, cannot do certain things in the USA, such as vote for president; nor can citizens of the USA vote in Canadian elections.

As for Caiaphas...Caiaphas is basically between a rock and a hard place. He is the nominal head of Judea, and he is supposed to keep the peace. Judea is occupied by Rome, and Roman soldiers are stationed there. Caiaphas needs to make sure that these soldiers do not go on the attack. He needs to placate Pilate, and he needs to placate Rome. 

At the same time, as the High Priest, he has a responsibility to the Jewish tradition. Rome wanted the Jews to offer sacrifices to the emperor...but Caiaphas and the other Jews refused to participate in this type of offering because they would not worship the emperor. The most they were willing to do was offer sacrifices on behalf of the emperor and the empire.

When Jesus comes into the city in the Triumphal Entry, when people are hailing him as son of David, Caiaphas recognizes the political danger. The Gospel of John tells us that the people wanted to make Jesus king (John 6:15). Caiaphas has to watch out for the mob. Caiaphas also has to watch out for all these Jewish pilgrims coming from all over the empire celebrating the Feast of Freedom, the end of slavery. When he sees Roman troops surrounding the Temple Mount, Caiaphas has to keep the peace. And Jesus is a threat to that peace. But none of this has to do directly with Jesus' actions in the Temple. He is not at this point protesting Caiaphas's role.

Sometimes I hear people say that Jesus drove the "money lenders” out of the Temple. That's wrong, too. Money-lending was a business into which the medieval church forced Jews, because the church concluded that charging interest was unnatural (money should not beget money). Yet people needed, then and now, to take out loans. The issue for the Gospel is not money lending but money changing. These money changers exchanged the various currencies of the Roman Empire into Tyrian shekels, the type of silver coin that the Temple accepted. We experience the same process when we visit a foreign country and have to exchange our money for the local currency.

So, if Jesus is not condemning the Temple itself, or financial exploitation, or purity practices, what is he condemning? Let's look at what the Gospels actually say.

According to Matthew, Mark, and Luke, ...the concern is not the Temple, but the attitude of the people who are coming to it.

In Mark's account Jesus begins by saying, "Is it not written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations?" (11:17). Indeed, it is so written. Jesus is here condensing and then quoting Isaiah 56:6-7... Jesus' rhetorical question should be answered with a resounding “Yes!"--for the Temple already was a house of prayer for all people. More, he is standing in the Court of the Gentiles when he makes his pronouncement. ...Thus, the problem is not that the Temple excludes Gentiles. 

Already we find the challenge, and the risk. Are churches Today houses of prayer for all people, or are they just for people who look like us, walk like us, and talk like us?

How do we make other people feel welcome? Is the stranger greeted upon walking into the church? Is the first thing a stranger hears in the sanctuary, "You're in my seat"? When we pray or sing hymns, do we think of what those words would sound like in a stranger's ears? ...

Matthew and Luke drop out "For all nations," and appropriately so, for they knew it already was a house of prayer for all nations. Matthew and Luke thus change the focus to one of prayer. And prayer gets us closer to what is going on in the Synoptic tradition.

___________

Den of Thieves

Jesus continues, ‘But you are making it a den of robbers’ (Matthew 21:13). Here he is quoting Jeremiah 7:11: “Has this house, which is called by my name, become a den of robbers in your sight?”

A "den of robbers" (sometimes translated a "den of thieves") is not where robbers rob. "Den” really means "cave," and a cave of robbers is where robbers go after they have taken what does not belong to them, and count up their loot. The context of Jeremiah's quotation -- and remember, it always helps to look up the context of citations to the Old Testament -- tells us this.

Jeremiah 7:9-10 depicts the ancient prophet as condemning the people of his own time, the time right before Babylonians destroyed Solomon's Temple over five hundred years earlier: “Will you steal, murder, commit adultery, swear falsely, make offerings to Baal, and go after other gods that you have not known, and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say, ‘We are safe!’ -- only to go on doing all these abominations?" 

Some people in Jeremiah's time, and at the time of Jesus, and today, take divine mercy for granted and see worship as an opportunity to show off new clothes rather than recommit to clothing the naked. The present-day comparison to what Jeremiah, and Jesus, condemned is easy to make: The church member sins during the workweek, either by doing what is wrong or by failing to do what is right. Then on Sunday morning this same individual, perhaps convinced of personal righteousness, heartily sings the hymns, happily shakes the hands of others, and generously puts a fifty-collar bill in the collection plate. That makes the church a den of robbers -- a cave of sinners. It becomes a safe place for those who are not truly repentant and who do not truly follow what Jesus asks. The church becomes a place of showboating, not of fishing for people. 

Jeremiah and Jesus indicted people then, and now. The ancient Temple, and the present-day church, should be places where people not only find community, welcome the stranger, and repent of their sins. They should be places where people promise to live a godly life, and then keep their promises. ...

___________

Stop Making My Father's House a Marketplace

John's Gospel says nothing about the house of prayer or den of robbers. In John's Gospel, Jesus starts not simply by overturning the tables, but also by using a “whip of cords" (since weapons were not permitted in the Temple, he may have fashioned the whip from straw at hand), and driving out the vendors. Jesus when says to the dove sellers, "Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!" (John 2:16). He is alluding to Zechariah 14:21, the last verse from this prophet, "and every cooking pot in Jerusalem and Judah shall be sacred to the Lord of hosts, so that all who sacrifice may come and use them to boil the flesh of the sacrifice. And there shall no longer be traders in the house of the Lord of hosts on that day."

In John's version of the Temple incident, Jesus anticipates the time when there will no longer be a need for vendors, for every house not only in Jerusalem but in all of Judea shall be like the Temple itself. The sacred nature of the Temple will spread through all the people. He sounds somewhat like the Pharisees here, since the Pharisees were interested in extending the holiness of the Temple to every household.

The message is a profound one: Can our homes be as sanctified, as filled with Worship, as the local church?

Do we “do our best" on Sunday From 11 a.m. to 12 noon, but just engage in business is usual during the workweek? Do we pray only in church, or is prayer part of our daily practice? Do we celebrate the gifts of God only when it is time to do so in the worship service, or do we celebrate these gifts morning to night? Is the church just a building, or is the church the community who gathers in Jesus' name, who acts as Jesus taught, who lives the good news? 

Jesus' words, citing Zechariah, do even more. They anticipate a time when all peoples, all nations, can worship in peace, and in love. There is no separation between home and house of worship, because the entire land lives in a sanctified state. Perhaps we can even hear a hint of Jeremiah's teaching of the "new covenant," when "no longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, 'Know the LORD,’ For they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the LORD; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more" (Jeremiah 31:34). Can we envision this? Can we work toward it? ...

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Void of Extinction by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 4/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 4: It’s Always You

The loud sound of a lock clicking across the room, before a screech of the heavy steel door opening, woke James from his sleep. Mary Margaret entered his room, a smile on her face.

“Good morning, are you hungry?”

He stared at her with apprehension. “Bloody starving. Do you feed your prisoners here or just taunt them with talk of food?”

“Killi…James, you are not a prisoner here.” She said with a smile.

“The lock on the door says otherwise.”

“I apologize for that. The others were feeling anxious that you might leave before we had a chance to help you.”

“I don’t feel much like I’m being helped right now.”

“I’m sorry about that. Please, let’s get you some food and maybe we can talk about how I can help you.”

He followed her through the busy halls, people moving all around them as if they had business to tend to. “This is quite the operation you’re running.”

“Everyone who is here believes in our cause.”

“Which is?”

“Removing the threat that the Collective brings to the people of Storybrooke, helping those afflicted with this terrible disease, keeping the Hive from poaching the little resources we have, and finding a cure that can be shared across the realms.”

“That’s a lot to manage, but do you really think you can find a cure?”

“I do, but we can’t block ourselves off from the world, the wall and exile have removed our best options for finding the one thing that could save us all.”

James watched the woman’s face, the sincerity of her words, had he not been a cook, had he been more of a courageous man, he would have been inclined to volunteer and support their cause.

They entered a large room and judging by the contents he assumed this was their cafeteria. “Please, make sure you get something to eat. We can talk more once you get settled. I just need to check on a few things.”

She excused herself and James walked to the line, scoping out what kind of food they would have so far from the town’s resources. What he found surprised him, fruits and vegetables seemed to be bountiful, the array of meats astounded him even more. Where were they getting all this food from?

He put a few items on his plate and found a spot in the corner of the room to watch his surroundings. He had expected the army of the Resistance to be made up of angry men and women, soldiers in a battle that was trying to destroy the quiet town of Storybrooke. Instead, he found mothers, children, uncles, unassuming men, and women who no more looked like soldiers than he did.

He barely had time to finish his food before his attention was drawn to the crying sounds of a child coming from the entrance of the cafeteria. The sound was followed by the entrance of Ruby, who he had met earlier, and the man who had continued to seek him out at the diner. He stood from his spot on his bench as soon as the man recognized him, his eyes wide with either shock or relief, he couldn’t tell.

Behind him a woman stepped forward carrying a child, her blonde hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail but there was no denying this was the woman who had been haunting his dreams every night. Their eyes met, and she handed her child to the man beside her, rushing toward him.

“Killian, oh my God, you’re alive!”

He flinched as she reached for him. “I’m sorry, lass, do I know you?”

She paused. “It’s me, Emma.”

“I must apologize if I have met you, but I can’t quite remember where. My name is James Rogers.” He held out his hand and she simply stared at him.

“I can’t believe he did this to you; Neal is going to pay for this.” She growled before reaching out, her hand touching his cheek.

The moment her palm touched flesh he felt like he had been struck by lightning. White light blinding him as he fell to his knees, images coming in quick succession.

“My name is Emma Swan and I need your help.”

“How can I help you, love?”

“I have information on the Collective, I need to get information to Merlin.”

“I work for the Storybrooke PD, I can take you in, get you in touch with my boss.”

“No, the information I have has to go directly to Merlin. I need to get into the mainframe.”

“The only terminal that goes directly to the mainframe is in the Mayor’s office, I could talk to her for you.”

“You can’t do that. Please. You can’t trust the Mayor.”

Killian’s heart was racing when his eyes finally opened, staring up into a sea of concerned green eyes.

“Killian, are you alright?”

He pushed away from her, backing up against the wall. “Stay back.” He warned, trying to understand what had just happened to him, the migraine starting to build at the back of his skull. He grabbed his head, tears forced out of the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry, what’s wrong.” The woman responded, leaning toward him. He pushed away from the wall, backing up toward the entrance.

“Just stay over there. Don’t come close to me.” He yelled, backing away from the group staring at him before running down the closest hall, pushing his way past anyone standing in his way. He could hear voices behind him, but he couldn’t stop, he needed air, he needed to get out of there.

He found himself at the end of the hallway, turning in all directions as he started to feel cornered. To his right he saw a steel door, pushing against it, it opened outward, leading to a stairwell. He climbed quickly, racing up the stairs two at a time until he found another door. He pushed and felt it budge, but the door didn’t open. Taking a few steps back, he kicked at the large door, as it flew open, fog enveloping him from the outside.

Stepping outdoors, he took a deep breath, choking on the smog as he shut the metal door behind him. He spun in place looking at the area around him, steel planks extending in all directions.

He picked a direction, sprinting to the end of the plank, he could hear voices behind him, calling toward him. He did the only thing he could think of, he dove. The ice-cold water hit him like a ton of bricks, he had to force his limbs to move, breaking the still waters with his strokes. Looking around he tried to get his bearings, unable to see anything but the fog, he pressed forward, swimming as fast as he could as he pushed through the murky waters.

When his foot hit ground, he drug himself onto the shore, crawling up the sandy beach and flipping onto his back as he tried to slow his breathing. He was able to stumble through, finding his way out of the foglands, a crack in the wall large enough for him to fit through so he could venture back to his apartment.

He crept through the dark hallways as he approached his door, surprised to find it sitting on its hinges as if someone had forced their way inside. He paused, peering into the darkened apartment, the door creaked loudly as he pushed through the archway, his apartment sitting still and ominously quiet.

“Lights.” He spoke into the void as one of the lamps turned on in the farthest room. The lights in the living room stayed dark. “Lights.” He said more forcefully.

A light clicked on beside him, a dark figure sitting in the chair by the window. “Hello James.” The voice caused the hair on his neck to stand on end.

“Who are you?” He asked, stepping backwards toward the door.

“I suppose it’s a good sign that you don’t remember me.” He chuckled. “Where’s Emma?”

James sucked in a breath at the mention of the woman’s name he had just escaped. What was it with this damned woman?

“I don’t know anyone named Emma.” He said honestly and the man stood from his spot in the room, walking slowly toward him.

“I wish I could say I believed you, but your reaction makes me think otherwise.”

“I don’t know who you are talking about.” He pleaded as the man raised a gun in his direction, James glanced around the room for anything he could use as a weapon.

“Maybe.” He paused. “You still taking your medicine, James?”

Who the hell was this man?

“Get out of my apartment, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“Oh, trust me, I know exactly who you are, and I know exactly what you’ve done.” He lunged forward, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him toward him, the gun protruding into his side. “You’re gonna pay for what you did to Emma.” He grunted, turning suddenly, and hitting him in the head with the butt of the gun. James felt blinded for a moment as his full weight crashed into the wall.

James stood and charged the man, using his shoulder to tackle him to the ground, the gun clattering off into the corner of the room, he hit the man with the ball of his fist, connecting with his jaw with a loud crack before the man returned the punch, knocking him backward and onto the coffee table behind him.

Suddenly there was noise at the other end of the apartment, a gun shot rang out and the assailant crashed through the window onto the stairwell. Will ran past him, rushing to the broken window and peering into the darkness.

“Dammit!” He cursed as he pulled himself back into the apartment. “Neal’s gone.” He turned toward Ruby and then looked down at James. “You could have gotten yourself bloody killed running like that.”

“Who the hell was that and why was he in my apartment?” James asked angrily as he stood, wiping his bloody hands on his jeans.

“That’s Neal Cassidy, but you already know him, you just don’t know that you know him…” His brow furrowed. “Bloody hell, how much longer until void man becomes himself again?” He asked the woman who frowned.

“No one knows, we’ve never taken anyone off the injections for this long before. It’s dangerous. I’m surprised his head hasn’t exploded yet.” She said with a shrug that made his skin crawl.

“My head might explode?” He shouted incredulously.

“Probably not. I mean…I hope not.” She said, trying to sound reassuring but only giving him more reason for concern.

“Look, I get it, you’re confused, but you need to trust us.” Will argued. “If you don’t, Neal and his family are going to kill you and if that happens, they’re going to get to Emma.”

“Why is he so angry with me? What does he think I did to this Emma woman?”

“Ah bloody hell, it’s not my place to fill in those gaps for you. Let’s just say he doesn’t like to share his toys and you took his favorite one.” Will laughed.

“Toys, what the blazes does that mean?”

“Look, if you come back with us, maybe you’ll let Emma explain.”

James looked at Will and Ruby, neither who appeared menacing or out to get him, he turned toward his living room window that this Neal Cassidy has thrown himself through. That man definitely was not out to help him. He didn’t see any other choice at the moment, he could stay here, and this man would continue to come after him and most likely kill him for causing some sort of harm to someone, or he could find out why this woman he didn’t even know was real, was suddenly haunting his dreams.

“Fine, let’s see what this Emma woman has to say.”

~*~

Emma paced the small room that Ruby and Will had left her behind in, Henry sleeping soundly in the corner of the room. She had waited so long to see Killian, to touch him, to tell him how much she loved him. They had looked everywhere for him, at one point, Emma had reconciled that Gold had killed him, but then Will found him, hope had not been lost, but he rejected them. It had broken Emma’s heart, she thought she would never have a chance to get back what she lost and then she walks into the damn Resistance and there he was, eating a sandwich in the middle of a goddamn cafeteria as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

When he recoiled from her touch, ran to get away from her, it was like losing him all over again. She had to remind herself that he didn’t know her. Gold, and Neal, she cursed to herself, had taken everything he held dear away from him, his memories, his life, her. She hadn’t been certain that Neal had found out about Killian, that he was on to what she was doing until he she found out that he was living a new life, with no recollection of who he was. She knew if Neal determined that he was a threat and removed him from the playing field, then he must know what Killian meant to her, to the entire operation designed to destroy his family.

“Did you get anything to eat?” Emma turned toward the door as the dark-haired woman approached.

“I did, thank you. Have they come back yet?”

The woman shook her head. “Not yet, but don’t worry, Ruby is my best tracker. If anyone can find him, she will.”

Emma sighed. “He didn’t know me.”

It was the woman’s turn to sigh as she entered the room. “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

Emma offered a soft smile. “He means everything. I thought I could be strong enough as long as I had him by my side, but now…”

“You don’t seem to me the type that needs a man at her side in order to be strong.” She chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, we will do everything we can to try and return his memories to him, but don’t think that just because he doesn’t fight by your side right now that you can’t be strong.”

“I wish I had your optimism.” She laughed.

“It’s less optimism and more of an understanding.” She replied, sitting down next to her. “My husband, he’s a good man, but he doesn’t understand this fight, he’s so determined that following the law, doing things legally is the only way to solve the problem.”

“I’m guessing he doesn’t support your cause.”

“He thinks I get up every day, clean the house, do the shopping, and prepare him dinner before he gets home, that I turn my back to what is happening outside these walls. He has no idea that one day I just woke up and knew I had to take a stand.” She exhaled. “David tries to walk the line between his duty as an officer to our town, his loyalty to the Mayor, and doing what is right. One day there will be a reckoning and he will have to choose a side. I hope that he chooses mine, but if he doesn’t, I know I’m strong enough to finish this fight.”

“Wait, your husband is David Nolan? He’s Killian’s partner.”

She laughed. “Yes, the elusive Killian Jones. The Mayor is very interested in finding him, as is my husband. My husband says he’s been missing for weeks; I’m guessing that has to do with you?”

“He was helping me with something, protecting me, I uh…” She frowned unsure whether to share any more information with the woman. “My ex is Neal Cassidy.” She added, turning away from the woman.

“Neal Cassidy, as in the son of the man who runs the Gold Collective.”

“That same asshole.” She joked.

“Very interesting.” She said, staring off in the distance. “I know you are still trying to decide if you trust me or not, I can see that much. But I think we are on the same side here. I just want what’s right for our people. I want to ensure we have a future to protect.”

Emma eyed the woman, sizing her up as she examined her. “Look, I just need you to find a way to get Killian to remember, after that, we’ll talk.”

“Fair enough, Emma.” She said with a nod just as Will rushed into the room.

“We found him.”

Emma jumped up from her spot. “Is he ok?”

“Neal was waiting for him at his apartment.” She started to panic. “He’s fine. Neal got away though.”

“Where is he?”

“Med bay,” He grabbed her as she started to rush out the door. “He’s fine, just some cuts and bruises. He wants to know why Neal’s so pissed at him.” He laughed. “I told him there was no way I was explaining that crap to him.”

Emma smiled. “Thanks for not trying.” Emma looked back at Mary Margaret.

“Go, I’ll be there in a minute, I want to talk to the doctors about his condition.”

Emma walked quickly through the halls, trying not to rush and push anxiously through the people around her. She turned the corner just as Will was opening the door to the med bay and she could see Killian sitting on a bench, his face bruised, dried blood gashed on his forehead. Emma felt her heart stop the moment he looked up, his eyes meeting hers with trepidation and a nervous hesitancy.

She slowed her steps, not wanting to appear too eager to approach him, hoping he didn’t notice the way she wrung her hands at her side, her fists balling in anger the closer she got to him, as she took in the damage that Neal had done to him.

She sat down a few feet from him, not wanting to encroach on his personal space this time, she had watched in terror at the last meeting as he ran from her, fear in his eyes after she touched him. Whatever Gold had done to him, had removed the trust and love they had once shared. She would not give up; she knew that what she and Killian shared went deeper than a few shallow memories. They couldn’t take away his soul, Killian was in there somewhere.

“I’m gonna go check on Henry.” Will announced uncomfortably from the door. “Message if you need me.” He said quietly to her before shutting the door.

She turned nervously toward Killian. “Are you alright?”

“What, this?” He pointed to his forehead. “Just trying out a new look, I assure you I’m perfectly alright.” He laughed and Emma felt her entire body crave to touch him. The man she loved was still in there, his way of putting her at ease, showing her that everything was going to be fine.

“I know this must be confusing for you. I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I would assume as much; it all seems a slight excessive compared to what I’m used to.”

“You have no idea.” She laughed, the feeling of dread easing a bit in her mind.

“So I’ve been told.” He answered softly, his eyes suddenly glancing down at his feet. “This Neal…” He let his name hang in the air between them for a few moments. “He implied that I had done something to you. I wasn’t sure what he meant. I didn’t…” He exhaled, touching his finger to the top of his earlobe, a gesture that Emma had seen him make a thousand times before and it made the tears spring to her eyes. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

She slid closer to him, tentatively reaching out and touching his hand. He flinched but he didn’t pull away this time. “You could never hurt me Killi…James.” His shoulders sagged and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Will said that I took something from him, some toy.”

Emma laughed, that sounded like something Will would tell him. “Neal is my…” She frowned. “ex.”

His eyes went wide for a moment, his lips pursing and his jaw suddenly tense. “You dated that fellow? He’s very…charming.”

She laughed, “You can be honest, he’s a real ass.”

“I didn’t want to offend.”

“That’s new.” She said with a wink. “Sorry, I’m just use to your usual sarcastic commentary.”

He smiled and then cleared his throat. “So, this thing that I took from Neal, it’s not a thing at all is it? It’s more personal…”

She nodded, “Verypersonal.” She responded, her tongue swiping out to wet her lips.

“Am I to believe that this person you think I am, this Killian, that you and he were…close?”

She bit her lip, her fingers languidly rubbing a circle against the skin at the top of his hand. “Extremely.”

“I see.” He said with a gulp. “I’m starting to wish I were this man you think I am, sadly, I have my doubts.”

~*~

“I promise you; we’ll figure this out.” She turned his hand in hers, taking his palm against hers and squeezing. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but I’m asking you to trust me.”

“Try something new darling, it’s called trust.”

The memory hit him sharply and he closed his eyes as the pain spread.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?” She dropped his hand, moving slightly away from him, clearly not wanting to cause him pain.

“Aye.” He said, opening his eyes as he squinted into the room. “Sometimes I see things…”

“See things?”

“Flashes, like a movie in my brain. Things I can’t explain, or conversations I’m certain I’ve never had. But one thing…” He inhaled deeply. “One thing is always the same.”

She leaned forward, touching his arm lightly and he turned toward her, his blue eyes shining with fear. “What?”

“You, love. It’s always you.”

[knullanon]

100 with yandad Steve please???

before writing- theres some mf cat fight and istg if its my cat im about to whoop his ass, but besides that this is kinda mellow. new idea.

after writing- turns out using your own trauma for fanfics is actually really good for the story, terrible for your sanity since you have to relive through everything.

warnings: yelling. like, i talk about that shit a lot. you get to feel what i felt 8 years ago pretty much.

no suprises - radiohead

you hadn’t meant for you dad to find out about where you went every friday night. or, at least, where you actually went. you were a teenager, and you were able to convince him that you were responsible to go out on your own and not cause shit. which was true. you were able to not start shit with other people. but that’s not gonna stop you from going to places where stupid shit was happening.

it started a few months ago. one of your close friends, dalia, had told you about a new group of “fighters” in your school. apparently, they would meet up every friday for fights. people could watch, people could have fun, but phones were a no go and while you could have them on you and text people, you couldn’t tell them about the group. 

you both decided to say fuck it and you both went. it was a blast. 

you has so much fun, and considering that most of the time you were just watching people get the shit beat out of them, it was fun. you met some new friends, new guys, new gals, new everything.

it was a break from your puritist dad who was a bitch about these things. he would always tell you to be careful with people who you didn’t know, or people who didn’t know you would try to hurt you. which, while yes, there were plenty of assholes who had tried to hurt you, you had learned what to look out for.

but steve never believed you. which is why being here, at the group, was a refresher. as the opponent got his ass beat into the ground, you laughed with dalia, holding a drink that you had brought for yourselves. 

it was the final night before a large football game, which was held on a weekend due to testing, and everyone on the fight team was on the football team excluding a few who were too much into fighting to be into football.

so, of course, they were roughing each other up so they wouldn’t have to deal with each other. 

“god, my man mike is getting his ass whooped!” dalia exclaimed, while mike was being punched in the face repeatedly. you laughed and said, “he isn’t even your man!”

“oh, fuck you _____!” she laughed with you as mike was dragged off the stage and the winner, a guy named jake, stood victoriously. 

you faintly remembered a rule your uncle bucky had told you, “never date a guy whose name starts with a J”. weird advice, but helpful, since jason was pending on a charge of domestic violence.

you and dalia laughed a little more, before dalia checked the time. “oh shit, isn’t your dad back by 2 these days?”

looking at your watch, he was indeed back by 2, and it was 1:20. it took you about 30 minutes to get home, and only 10 to get ready for bed. 

“yeah, lets just go.”

as you walked out, you were able to hear the crowd cheering from the inside of the warehouse. walking towards her car at the end of the car park, you said goodbye to her as she got in her own car, and sped off. you didn’t want to spend the night alone and cold in a car park, so you headed off to your own car. 

however, when you got to the place your car was, it wasn’t there. you looked around to make sure that it wasn’t anywhere else. thinking it was stolen, you were about to call dalia to come and pick you up, when a car honked from behind you.

you turned, and it was your car. wait, then who was driving it-

it was steve.

and he did not look happy.

~~~~

“I can’t believe you would lie to me! I let you go out and this is the stuff you do?!”

you sat in the back seat of the car like a child, while your dad angrily drove you home. right now, he was talking about the “dangers” of the outside world.

“I told you, places like those are terrible for a young lady like you! do you realize what could’ve happened if someone went under you car? if someone came up behind you? and- are you even fucking listening to me, _______?!”

that got your attention. steve never cussed out loud, especially not in front of you. this must mean hes really pissed.

“I am not kidding around with you, _____! You aren’t someone big and imposing like me, and you can be easily grabbed! you want to know what they’ll do, ____? do you?!”

“i know what the fucking do, dad.” you were almost on the verge of crying and your voice was quiet. holding in your tears was hard, but you also wanted to weep so bad. it felt like you were being ridiculed like a child.

“did you just cuss at me? did you just cuss at me?!” your dad was getting more and more louder every minute. at this point you were wiping you tears away with your sleeves, trying to cover up the fact that you were crying.

“I don’t care what your friends told you, what you did was not safe, and the fact that you have the audacity to do that after I’ve told you otherwise, is fucking bullshit!”

you were crying silently at this point. you didn’t have anything to say. you wanted to cry.

suddenly, he grabbed his phone and started calling someone. 

“you know what- no, I’m done.”

confused, you were about to ask, when he said, “you’re not going to school anymore.”

“w-what?”

“those kids are just putting shit into your mind that doesn’t need to be there, and I’m tired of it. It’s obviously working. I’m not having it.”

you were in shock. you tearfully asked, “but- but you can’t just-”

“I AM, AND I WILL _____. IF YOU WON’T LISTEN TO ME, THEN I WILL TAKE AWAY THE THINGS THAT ARE HARMING YOU.” he was yelling to you now. you were bawling your eyes out. you curled up so he wouldn’t be able to see you, not wanting him to see you acting like a child.

this really turned out to a shitty night, huh?

[thefanficmonster]

Your Enemy

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Angst, Eating Disorder, Swearing, Trauma, Anxiety, Spoilers for HTGAWM Season 1, Mentions of Murder

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: Following the most stressful events she’s ever had to deal with in her life, Michaela is forced to face a demon she thought she had left in her past. Luckily, this time she doesn’t have to deal with it on her own and has the support of a person she deemed least likely to ever come through for her.

Requested by Anon. Hello darling! I’m so happy to be hearing you’ve completed a full year of ED recovery! I’m very proud of you for having fought such a tough battle and came out of it a the bravest, strongest winner. Hope you enjoy the fic and hope it doesn’t trigger any bad memories. If it does, please let me know wo I can change it up. Love and care about you lots, Vy ❤

It’s been almost a month now. Almost a month since she was involved in the murder and dismemberment of her professor’s husband who her and her classmates were sure was the killer of a college student by the name of Lila Stangard. A month and she still can’t stomach any of it - a month during which she hasn’t stomached much else either. 

It all started the morning after the murder when she was still a distressed and disheveled mess, a nervous wreck that refused to leave the confinement and safety of her home and face the world out of fear of getting that stamp and punishment she knew she deserved. She knew she was basically a criminal in hiding. They all were and it was frustrating as all hell to see them all putting up with it so well like that murder wasn’t their first or their last. They almost came off as though they felt they did the right thing - rid the world of one more disgusting prick which Sam undoubtedly was, but that still wasn’t on them to decide. What they did was still a crime, they were still killers and would get charged as ones if this was ever to be found out by any law enforcement.

And Michaela Pratt could barely live with herself.

That first week her stomach was in constant knots that would tighten at the mere mention of food. Therefore, she lived solely on liquids that supplied her with faux energy and nothing nutritious that her body could work with. Then it became a habit. Well, it had more so to do with the fact that she looked in the mirror one day after showering and noticed the sudden change in her body, how it seemed smaller and, in her eyes, prettier than before. She liked the ‘improvement’ and wanted to hold onto it, linking it to her new eating habits she decided to stick to them. Though, they can’t really be called ‘eating habits’ considering she spent a great deal of time not eating anything at all, leaving large gaps between each tiny meal and drinking significantly more black coffee. She even developed the bad habit of smoking - a way for her to get out of the room whenever the rest of the Keating 5 were on a lunch break.

She hated the familiarity of it all, but there was also a certain dose of comfort to it. She had faced this demonic entity that resides within the very mind of the troubled person and that’s why she wasn’t scared. It felt more like opening the flood gates she had barely managed to shut and keep closed in the first place. Hell, it was almost relieving to open them up again, allow the inevitable to finally happen.

Having to lie about eating, having to renew her wardrobe with clothes of a smaller size - and some larger ones to hide the sudden change in - and dealing with dry and cracked skin, chipping nails and thinning hair were only few of the hiccups Michaela started facing when her weight loss became more significant and apparent, so much so that the Keating 5 were starting to worry. She was used to lying and making up stories about it. After all, this wasn’t her first time going down the dangerous lane that is undereating and abruptly losing a ton of weight. As mentioned, she dealt with it as a teenager for almost two years. Eventually, her lies started becoming see-through, causing her family to force her into recovery which eventually worked - took her a while to cooperate, but she managed to be convinced her life was to be lived properly. Her success was to be earned in more ways than boney limbs and vertigo every time she stood up. She came to the realization that the world was a crueler place than she had anticipated. It was a warzone she needed to be strong to face and, having become thin as a stick and mentally rattled she was terribly underprepared for facing and battling any of it. 

Michaela Pratt decided she deserved better - chose to toughen up and take the bull of her life by the horns and control it properly. She finally became the one really in control - not her self-destructive side, but her rational, fighter side. The warrior in her decided enough was enough.

However, for her, there’s never such a thing as enough.

Sensing it was a delicate and rather triggering subject, the members around the Keating household were more than reluctant on touching the topic and asking at least one of the many questions they always had in mind.

Why do you suddenly wear such wide clothes?

Why do you no longer put sugar in your coffee?

What’s with those bags under your eyes? You haven’t been getting much sleep?

How come you always have a big breakfast even when you wake up late?

Why do you never eat?

Those and so many more questions swarmed the heads of her friends but none of them were brave enough to say anything. No one went to look for her around lunchtime to see where she goes to hide during that period. No one mentions their suspicions and doubts about her statements. No one dares to point out that she’s become a ghost of the Michaela they previously knew. She’s not as fierce as she used to be - not the same way. She just snaps at people, throwing empty insults at them. Her focus has dropped significantly and she often times falls asleep while on the clock, working on the case. They all see it but they all choose to be passive on-lookers, by-standers, no one sporting the guts and bravery to bring it up and ask her or express worry.

Well, no one except the brutally honest and straight forward Connor.

“And here I was wondering where our Shooting Star had fallen.“ He says, making his presence known verbally only after he snatched the pack of cigarettes from Michaela’s hand, startling her to no end. “Since when do you smoke, by the way?”

“None of your goddamn business.“ She hisses back at him, reaching for the stolen pack like an angry tigress. “Give them back, asshole.“

She’s stopped in her futile yet hostile attempts of retrieving the stolen cigarettes when Connor grabs one of her arms and develops a downright terrified look on his face: eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open, confusion, shock and concern in his gaze. That’s a rare combination for him - someone who’s supposedly super laid-back and careless. That concern is what hits her the hardest. It catches her so off-guard she puts her movements to a halt and just stares back at him for a few seconds, both of them deciding what to say.

“Michaela, what have you done to yourself? What are you doing to yourself?“ He asks her, still not letting go of her arm which feels tiny in his grip. His fingers loosen their hold instinctively, as if afraid that any more pressure could break it. “Are punishing yourself for what happened to Sam?“

Michaela returns to her senses, shaking her head and frowning as she yanks her arm out of his grip. “Nothing happened to Sam!” She whisper-yells, narrowing her eyes, glaring at him with a fiery intensity, “Don’t talk like he died of a heart attack or in a car accident. We happened to him. We fucking killed him, Connor! Come to terms with that already!”

“Scream that louder, will ya? A more perfect confession doesn’t exist.“ Subtly, he slips the pack in the back pocket of his jeans, the movement flying under Michaela’s radar since she’s so laser-focused on his face and the subtle changes in his expressions. “Seriously, what the hell are you doing? Is this the punishment you think you deserve?”

She rolls her eyes, “That’s fucking nonsense. It’s no punishment, I just wanna fit into my wedding dress come the time I have to walk down the aisle.“

“So fitting into your wedding dress is the priority? Tell me, what will your hairdresser and make-up artist gonna say when they see your cracked and bruised skin, your thinned hair, the massive bags underneath your eyes. Also, are you even gonna fit in the dress or is it gonna hang on you the way it would on a stick figure.“

“Shut up! Connor, my life, my appearance and my eating habits are none of your business. You can’t play the caring enemy and fuck with my head - hating me one minute caring about me the next. It really doesn’t suit you, in fact, it’s below you.“

“Michaela, I’m not your enemy.“ He taps her temple with his finger, getting his hand smacked away about a second later, “That brain of yours is currently your enemy, not me. You need to get rid of it.“

“But what if I can’t?!“ She snaps, her eyes glistening with tears Connor didn’t expect to see, “What if that’s all I have? That me who’s constantly whispering to me that I don’t need nor deserve food - she’s stuck with me longer than anyone else has. She’s been with me since I was fifteen, Connor. Fifteen! She never left, even when I tried to push her away and chase her out of my head. She stayed there, and now she’s helping me. You wouldn’t understand! You don’t have dresses to fit in, people to please, your own criteria to fulfill! You don’t even feel like you deserve punishment for what you did! You dismembered a human being, Connor! When are you gonna come to terms with the fact that you’re a murderer?!“

“When you come to terms with the fact that you’re killing yourself, Michaela!“ He too snaps, unable to control his emotions when faced with a literal life or death situation - one regarding his friend on top of all.

No, she’s not my friend. I’m just doing what any person would do in this scenario, he convinces himself. Turns out there are several facts Connor Walsh can’t come to terms with - caring about his biggest rival is one of them.

“She’s not your friend, Michaela! She doesn’t want anything good for you. She’ll end up leading you to your death if you keep listening and trusting her! That Michaela is the one deserving of punishment, not you. Don’t let her overpower the rational Michaela I met that day, the first day of class. The one I wanted to strangle for being so cocky and self-centered and was stealing my spotlight. The one who left me in the dust a few too many times for me not to respect her. She could kick the self-destructive Michaela’s ass. Let her.“

A choked sob escapes Michaela’s throat as a result of Connor’s speech. The last thing she expected was support and help - she was prepared for the mocking, the sympathy and pity, the ‘Seriously? Get over it, will ya?’ or the ‘It’s all in your head. Just eat, damn it.’ she grew used to hearing the first time she was dealing with an eating disorder. If she wasn’t still herself she would’ve probably even given him a hug - one she’d regret later - but she remained in her spot, arms folded over her chest, nodding slowly.

“Thank you, Connor. But it’s not as easy as you make it sound.“ She sniffles, her gaze wandering elsewhere, embarrassed by how she broke down in front of him just now. Lord knows she’ll be even more pissed later, but right now she’s got other things on her mind. Something she hadn’t even brushed upon before this conversation with Connor - recovery. She’s not used to seeking help from anyone for anything, especially not something she saw as her superpower until someone forced her eyes open. Forced the epiphany on her that she’s not living, she’s killing herself.

“Of course it’s not easy. That’s why no one does it alone, you know.“ Hesitantly, very very hesitantly, he lifts his hand, cautiously placing it on Michaela’s shoulder. “People reach out for support and go talk to professionals. You don’t have to do this alone. In fact, you can’t do this alone.“ He pauses, waiting for her gaze to meet his. When it does, he continues, “I won’t let you.“

Never did Michaela expect support from anyone, never did she want or need it. But here she is receiving it from the person she thought least likely to offer it. Never did she think there’d come a day when her arms, as if on autopilot would, wrap around Connor Walsh in a tight embrace of gratitude. While pretty startled, he manages to return the hug after blinking once or twice to comprehend the situation.

“Thank you.“ He hears her whisper and that’s more than he ever thought he’d get from her.

“Don’t mention it.“ He lets a small smile slip onto his face as his hold on her tightens ever so slightly.

[mallickshah]

A safe place (I)

February 11th @ Yureif’s Tavern ;  Evening ( of DOOMDAY )

A safe place had never been part of the things he’d grown up to need. 

When Saiyah had come into his life, she’d brought along something that had long been foreign to him. The touch of something that kept everything else at bay, she’d also brought her own safe place. She’d needed it more than he’d had, she’d grown with the need for a protective shield rather than the will to fight, because she was a serf, human, unwanted by many, shun by all in this faction. A species that could not find a way to survive on these soils.

The first time she’d told him about having somewhere she could hide and let herself feel safe, where she’d felt like no harm could come to her, he’d found it strangely uncanny. Mallick had the strength, mind and physical, to hold his own in fights, to hold his own in life in general, he’d never needed a hideout for the things he couldn’t confront. Because Mallick had been raised to confront it all, it was unfathomable for him to be a Shah and a Club and not have the will to fight his fight and hide somewhere when they became too much. There was simply not such a thing as too much. 

Their beginnings had been rocky, between his unrelenting need to show her that she could be strong, the need to protect her and her soft resignation that she just would never amount to what he’d grown used to. Their minds had collided more than once. But, somehow, in the midst of it all and the gruntings he’d left her with at times, Saiyah and Mallick had managed to create a bubbling world that had, with time and the years, come to make him realize what she’d meant by a shelter where nothing mattered and you felt as if nothing could harm you. 

Saiyah had given him a safe place. 

Mallick had never realized though, not until he’d lost her, and even then--he hadn’t truly understood why his world had been shaken to the point where his trust in everything he’d ever believed in had been shaken to its core. He hadn’t understood it after a year, or two of being in the resistance and he hadn’t all these years. 

Rather, he was understanding it now. 

The news came while he was at Yureif’s tavern, the only pint of the night he’d be drinking still in his hand. Somewhere in that situation, Mallick would find humor with his brother later on, because the news of Saiyah’s death had also found him in the same position. Hand wrapped around a cold beer and playful banter passing between comrades of any and all kinds. Yureif’s tavern welcomed any and all for a good time, no brawls, no violence and the means to evacuate anyone who would dare to disturb the peace. This was the only tavern of their family with such strict rules, implemented because Yureif did not want to have to explain to his wife, or his children, why he was running a place that could turn out to be dangerous.

Also, largely in part because Yureif was against violence. He despised it, had always despised it. He was more of the type to find danger in nature, rather than in people. When they’d been little, Mallick had always loved watching them, Yureif and Pribas, the only twins among his brothers, like ice and fire. Because where Yureif was a thrill seeker in anything that was not breathing, unless it was an animal, Pribas had always been quite fond of taking more than his fair share of hits and bruising as much as he got bruised. 

Needless to say, their arguments always reflected worry for one another. Yureif with his dangerous animals, Pribas with his dangerous fights. So when the men came in, loud and ready to deliver the news, Yureif was the first to step from behind the bar, cloth thrown over his shoulder to remind them of the rules of his tavern. It didn’t matter your ranks, he’d make sure that it was followed, so would the customers of the tavern. A lovely regular bunch who liked to keep it peaceful and would act as volunteering guns if necessary. 

“We’re only delivering the news.” One of the men raised his hands and Yureif nodded towards him who spoke. 

“Then deliver and get gone.” 

The mistrust was evident, their weapons were not hidden, their stances too aggressive to be taken as a pacific walk in. They gauged their audience and Mallick leaned back against the back legs of his chair to do the same, a look over how many of them they were, where they might have come from. They looked like the guards of the armory, as far as he could tell. He recognized one face among them and if they noticed him, it didn’t seem to show, their eyes not staying put on the arch of the eyebrow Mallick was sending their way. 

“These are orders from our Ace, they need to be followed to the letter and anyone who even thinks of not abiding by its code will face the consequences.” That was when the man let the leaflets reach Yureif’s hands, although it was more so slapped on his chest and he held it there for a bit, refusing to take a look until the men made right by their promise to not cause any commotion.

The man, who seemed to be in charge given that he’d been doing all the talking, tilted his head and marched his guards right back out of the tavern. They had nothing against the guards of the armory per se, but ever since Mallick had made it obvious to Yureif that he had his reticences with their Ace, his brother had somehow grown a sensitive bone towards anything that involved the man himself. Did Mallick want his brother involved in this? Of course not. But it was not a surprise that Yureif would take a strong stance, whether it was his fight or not. It was in the blood, was it not? It was what made Mallick the designated leader of the family, this power they all had flowing through their veins to protect everything, especially the people in their family.

The pride in his chest would never cease to amaze him, the swell of it had him rising from his seat. But Mallick had a frown almost instantly as he saw Yureif’s own at reading the message scribbled on the paper.

“What is it this time?”

Mallick’s hopes? That the good conversation they’d been having about the barbarians getting some action last night would be somewhat continued once the message was read. So to see Yureif frowning and cursing under his breath was not a good sign at all. 

“Fuck, why is it that your instincts always have to suck so much at being wrong?” 

Mallick shook his head, more than confused. However, once he took in the message on the leaflet, it all started to make a whole lot of sense. 

Every information leading to the death or arrest of HIM, the barbarians or a member of the resistance will be rewarded with an extra food ration.

The message left him feeling with a tangible bitter taste in his mouth, but it wasn’t that terrible. It did get wrinkled and tossed right out where the guards had brought it from, but just as soon as it was tossed, Pribas was running in, making the revolving door shake in his haste to come in. He was panting, had to take his breath but once it was done and the feathers were done falling from his quick shifting before he got through the doors.

The message Pribas carried made the taste stronger, more palpable, Mallick could almost taste ashes and blood. The heaviness of it was unrelenting and he wanted to do anything, anything but be here right now, listening to Pribas ramble on about what was going on out there in the quietness that Mallick had thought would be a constant for a little while. It would have come with such relief, wouldn’t it, after all that HIM and his barbarians had caused. After all that ruckus and hurt, and Mallick’s words to the resistance’s members who had wondered if they should act.

What had Mallick told them again? 

It might not be our place this time, we should wait to see what the Ace does.

Because as much as it’d pained him to sit still and watch, he’d somewhat thought him capable of handling this without the need for any externally drastic measures. But now, not only was he not putting out something like a hit on every resistance’s members, he was also seemingly going the same route that HIM had. 

Doing what he thought would be right to do, by force. 

Mallick had been wrong to think that an Ace would be able to handle this for the good of his people, without causing more hurt, he had been wrong and he needed the resistance now more than ever. He needed something, something he’d thought long gone when he’d lost Saiyah. 

He needed that constant had he known, had never once made him regret to have chosen them. Mallick needed his safe space, to be able to give the same to everyone else in Clubs who had never asked for anything else but that. Peace and safety. This was obviously not speaking to those who preferred the chaos of it all, it spoke of those who had not chosen that path or been given the ability to have it. Those who like Saiyah, had been forced to seek shelter somewhere other than where they’d been born and even that was being threatened by the one person who should have been doing the right thing by his people.

Which, if that was the case, then two did not need to play at this game. Both pieces of this chess needed to be tackled and taken out of the field, consecutively or at the same time. 

It was time for a plan that was for the people, not for power.