#antis were fierce

[whimsylueur]

I’ve never drawn so mutherfuckin quick

[beevean]

I wonder if people could write "he did kinda rape her but he treated her well and I could believe he was a good person" for a man.

This is the kind of stuff that makes my brain go into overdrive. Because you know what, this is an interesting story with an interesting antagonist! A vampire who effectively improves the living situation of her victim out of kindness, but resorts to rape and abuse and deceit to trap him in a gilded cage without even thinking she did something wrong. The end justifies the means, right? She's still better than everyone else before her, right? Because she afforded her victim the absolute bare scraps of mercy, and even those taste like a feast.

The story would have been better if N!Hector was shown to be conflicted. Lenore kept her promises, but at what price? He is free to wander around in a nice castle, but what about his freedom? Is this really better than his life under Dracula? Is the kindness worth being seen as a pet? Is it okay if she lied to him like everyone else, because at least she doesn't want to use him as a tool? Is the bonding over their similar misery genuine, or should he stop trusting others?

And if N!Hector really has to love Lenore... it should have been a tragic development. It should have been the sign of a crumbling mind that couldn't take all that abuse and pain, and clung to the bare minimum, in deep, deep denial.

But that's not what happened. N!Hector in S4 is simply wildly inconsistent. He plans to bring Dracula back for no reason other than his own peace of mind, he stabs Lenore in the back and he cuts his finger... but he also begs Isaac to spare her, wants to stay with her, and he says "control flows from me to Lenore through the ring" without a single hint of resentment. It's nonsensical, it's a blatant way to make Lenore look more sympathetic, and I can't stand it.

I would say that I would love to rewrite this story, show the conflict between safety and freedom, the pressure and guilt that comes from being trapped in a gilded cage, the clinging to a terrible person that still did so much for you... but the CoD prequels exist. Hector and Dracula's relationship exists, however brushed in broad strokes. I'm much more willing to elaborate on that relationship, as I know that in canon Hector eventually chooses freedom over safety and it's a more comforting narrative to me. And I'm sure no one would ever say "well, he did force Hector to commit war atrocities, but he favored him so I could believe he's a good person deep down" :\

(also not to defend that piece of shit, but the implication is that Lenore sunned herself to not become like Carmilla in the future. She just phrased it in the bitchiest way possible, because the writing in S4 is atrocious)

[torgawl]

do you think part of the reason diluc still struggles with his resentment towards kaeya is because kaeya is more like what crepus wished diluc to be? crepus was so proud of diluc for his accomplishments as a knight and lived his dream through him as well and we know how much crepus' approval meant for diluc, more than any title or doing. i sometimes wonder if diluc feels hurt knowing that kaeya gets to live the equivalent to his past life as a knight as if nothing happened when he had to make sacrifices for his own peace of mind and sense of justice. i wonder if that's what pains him the most, not the fact kaeya ommited the truth about his past for so many years but having felt like he was the only one who cared to do something regarding his father's death and who showed any sense of uprightness when confronted with the knights' request to cover their mistake and negligence. i always think about how diluc might have felt like everything was a lie and his sense of betrayal. but maybe that didn't matter as much as having the support of his brother and someone he could share his pain with would have mattered. maybe the worst thing wasn't what kaeya did but what he didn't do; maybe it was never about his actions but the lack thereof.

[blackpearlblast]

[ID: drawings of a golem animated by a palestinian flag painted on its forehead. it is seen: holding out its arms protectively in front of a crowd of children, the children also hold each other supportively; catching an air strike missile from the air and throwing it away or crushing it in its fist; turning its back so that a child can warm her hands by the earth oven built into its back, food in a pot is cooking on the fire and a boy holds a cup of steaming tea to his face and enjoys the aroma; clearing away rubble so a man can help up his wife who was buried underneath, she is clutching a baby to her chest; stooping down to look at a kitten a young boy is holding up to show it; and dissolving small flakes of clay from its finger into a glass of water, purifying it. end ID]

@fairuzfan asked people to create and share art for the strike. i wrote an artist statement and then set about trying to draw what i envisioned. artist statement below.

This golem is a protector that I wish I could gift to the children and adults in Gaza. The flag on its forehead is to show that love for the Palestinian people is an animating force for people fighting for a free Palestine all over the world, especially for those in Palestine who are trying to free themselves and their people. Love is the motivation for the call for a free Palestine, not hatred like people try to claim. It is very strong and fast and can catch air strikes out of midair and crush them to dust or throw them back in the direction they came from. It can lift all the rubble of a collapsed building very quickly so nobody can get trapped underneath. It has an earth oven in its back with an ever-burning flame that people can use to warm themselves and cook food and heat water to use to bathe themselves or make tea. Pieces of its clay can be crumbled up and mixed into water to make even the most brackish and unclean water pure and safe to drink.

The golem is always a bit of a tragic figure so I don't imagine it staying around forever once Palestine is free and it is no longer needed. I think it would use its great strength to help rebuild the destroyed houses, churches, schools, universities, hospitals, and mosques and then dive into the Jordan river and dissolve. It would clean the river of all pollution and make the water splash up over all the newly replanted fruit trees, causing them to grow big and strong. Its love for Palestine and its people can be tasted in the fruit they grow for generations.

I choose a specifically Jewish icon of protection because of how it feels to witness such horrors done in the supposed name of Judaism and the Jewish people. For many anti-zionist Jews, we feel like we are acting directly within the teachings of our stories and communities by opposing this genocide. It is difficult to understand how the very people and institutions who taught us these values now fight against them so fiercely. While obviously I would still oppose Israel were I not Jewish, the way I oppose Israel is directly informed by my Jewishness. I hope that someday, somehow, Judaism can bring as much joy and support to the Palestinian people as it has brought grief and destruction. That Jewish symbols used in the name of love and justice will bear more significance than the ones used in shows of hatred. Knowing the depth of the harm caused, I do not know if this is possible. But this artwork and everything I have dedicated myself to these past few months and continue to dedicate myself to in the future is born from this hope. I love you. Thank you for being on this planet with me. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free! And it will be beautiful.

[lovedreamer11]

The day people realize that a strong female character is not just a woman in armor with a sword in her hands who regrets that she was not born a man will be one of the best days of my life.

Because what happens to Emma's character, and to any female character in HotD, is truly pathetic.

Yes, in Asoiaf and Got there are strong female warriors Arya, Brienne, Alyssa Targaryen, Baela, Ygritte, Meera, Black Aly, Asha, Obara and Nymeria Sand.

But were Olenna, Margaery, Queen Rhaenys, Missandei, Val, Tyene and Sarella Sand, Daenerys, Sansa, Shiera, Elaena, Rhaenyra, Alysanne, Rhaena, even Alicent, weak just because they were feminine and did not fight with physical force? Or even Meria Martell, the old Yellow Toad of Dorne, who was not a warrior, but it was during her reign that Dorne remained unconquered, and one of the Conquerors fell in battle along with his dragon.

Visenya and Daena fit both of these categories. They were both fierce beauties who could be feminine when they wanted to, but they could also defend themselves and were skilled in the use of weapons.

In any case, to be strong and be an influential person, it is not necessary to envy men and constantly wear armor. But it is much easier for the creators of HotD to give a woman a weapon or turn her into a victim than to make her character smart, charismatic and ambitious.

Everyone screams that HotD is feminist, but no. This show is as anti-feminist as possible.

[d1stalker]

Undercover Flames II [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You may have been rescued, but the enemy is still out there, and it’s going to take way more than just a direct assault to get them to talk. Your plan, however, does nothing to calm Logan’s nerves.

PART TWO OF TWO (part one here)

Warnings: canon-level violence, brief argument

WC: 7.2K - MASTERLIST

----

You wake up to the warmth of Logan’s body pressed against yours, the rise and fall of his chest soothing in its steady rhythm. The light is soft, filtering through the curtains and for a moment, you allow yourself to stay still, savouring the peace of this rare, tranquil morning. Logan’s arm is draped protectively over your waist, his hand resting against your stomach, fingers splayed out as if to keep you anchored to him.

As you turn in his embrace, Logan stirs, his hold on you tightening instinctively before he lets out a soft, sleepy grunt.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips as you watch him slowly blink his eyes open. His gaze is soft, warm in a way that’s reserved only for these quiet moments between you.

It has been just over four months since you were rescued from the clutches of the anti-mutant organization, and in that time, you’ve made remarkable strides in your recovery. The nightmares that once haunted you relentlessly have become few and far between, no longer a nagging constant at the back of your mind. Your body, once battered and bruised, has healed with time and care. After three weeks of rest, you cautiously returned to training—starting slow, attentive to not reopen old wounds or strain muscles that were still mending. You’ve not only regained your strength but it almost appears like you’ve surpassed it, driven by a fierce determination to never feel that powerless again.

Last month marked a significant milestone: your first assignment back. The instructions were straightforward—an investigation into a drug dealer whose clients had been mysteriously dying within days of their transactions. It wasn’t the most complex of tasks, but it was a crucial step in regaining your confidence in the field. Logan, of course, wasn’t thrilled about you heading out so soon. You could see the worry in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched when the assignment was discussed. However, true to his word, he stepped back, allowing you the space to do what you needed to do. He trusted you to handle it, even if every protective instinct in him was screaming to stay close.

But his companionship was never lost on you. His actions speak volumes—over the years of knowing each other, he’s learned to read you in ways that no one else can, picking up on the smallest details that others might overlook. And now that you’re lovers, he finally allows himself to show you just how much he’s always noticed, how deeply he’s cared all along.

He’s always a step ahead of you, anticipating your needs before you even realize them yourself. Whether it’s tossing you a water bottle after a grueling training session, offering you his jacket when he notices the temperature drop, or silently placing a hand on your back to steady you when you’re about to lose your balance—Logan is there, solid and dependable.

His support is in the small, almost indiscernible touches. You’ve noticed that he’ll lightly brush his fingers against your hand when he senses you’re anxious, he’ll place a hand on your shoulder when you’re deep in thought, the warmth of his touch a silent reminder that you’re not alone. And when you’re seated beside each other, his thigh will always be connected with yours. 

Seeing this side of Logan, the side that he rarely shows to anyone, has deepened your love for him to a level you never thought possible. You’ve always cared for him—admired his strength, his loyalty, and his unyielding determination—but now, as he allows himself to be vulnerable with you, to let down the walls he’s built up over so many years, you find yourself falling for him all over again, deeper and deeper. 

You’ve never felt so seen, so understood, it’s as if Logan has tuned into every part of who you are, cherishing even the smallest details. Knowing that he trusts you enough to show this side of himself, to let you in past his barriers fills you with a gratitude that words can hardly express. You feel honoured, and so incredibly lucky to be the one who gets to see the real him—the one who’s gentle, thoughtful, and so much more than the tough exterior he shows the world.

Logan’s hand slides up your side, breaking you from your haze, his thumb brushing over your ribs with tenderness 

“How’re you feeling?” 

“Amazing,” you say, and it’s the truth. Everything Logan has done for you, both before and after the incident, has helped you become stronger—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. “Thanks to you.”

He grunts, a sound that would seem dismissive to anyone else, but you’ve learned to hear the subtleties in it—the satisfaction, the pride that he tries to keep hidden. He pulls you closer, his lips brushing the side of your forehead in a gesture that’s more comforting than words could ever be. “Just doing my job,” he huffs.

“Sure,” you tease, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw, feeling the familiar roughness of his stubble beneath your touch. “But not everyone’s job description includes being my personal heater.”

Logan chuckles, his tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” you say, your smile widening as you lean in, your lips pressing against his in a soft, lingering kiss. 

When you pull back, Logan’s eyes are filled with that familiar mix of longing and reluctance, the same look he’s given you every morning since the rescue. It’s a look that makes your chest ache because you know what it means. He wants to protect you, to keep you safe from the world outside this room, but he knows he can’t always do that. Even though he’s managed to back off and let you do your own thing, you know deep down that he would rather stick by your side every second of the day. He’s holding onto you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, like the world outside is too dangerous to face without you by his side.

You’re about to say something to ease the tension you can see building in his expression when the X-Men communicator on the nightstand beeps, breaking the peaceful silence.

Logan’s expression darkens instantly, the moment of calm shattered as reality crashes back in. He reaches over, grabbing the device with a resigned sigh. The message on the screen is brief, something you’ve seen hundreds of times, but still manages to make all the muscles in your body seize—a meeting in the war room in an hour.

“Duty calls,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he replies, his tone gruff as he sets the communicator down with more force than necessary. “Always does.”

There’s a heavy pause between you, both of you acutely aware of what’s coming, what you’ll have to face. You know its time to focus back on you and Logan’s original mission—the anti-mutant group. The thought of it sends a shiver down your spine, but before you can dwell on it too long, Logan turns to you, his hand reaching out to gingerly cup your face, his thumb running over your cheek.

“I just wish… we could hang up the suits, ya know?” he says, “Be selfish for once. Just you and me, somewhere far away from all this crap.”

His words break through the tough shell he usually hides behind. You catch the look in his eyes—the yearning for a life without the constant fights, without the endless dangers. It’s a life you’ve both fantasized about in fleeting moments, but one that always seems just out of reach.

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing one of your hands to rest atop of his—the one on your cheek. “That’s not who you are. You joined the our team because you wanted to help people, to make a difference. That’s who you are—a protector. You’d never be happy just sitting on the sidelines, not when you know there’s still work to be done.”

He released a long breath, his gaze moving to where your hands are connected. “Yeah, I know, darlin’. But sometimes… I just wish we could be together without threats hanging over our heads. Without havin’ to fight every damn day.”

It breaks your heart to know that the life he wants—the peace he craves—is something you can’t give him, not yet.

You move closer, placing a soothing kiss on the tip of his nose, a gesture that’s meant to comfort both of you. “I wish that too,” you admit. “More than anything.”

He looks at you for a long moment, searching your eyes for something—reassurance, hope, maybe just the strength to keep going. Finally, he nods, the tension in his jaw easing slightly as he leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours.

“I know I’ve said this before but… I just can’t go through that again,” he says, voice husky and intimate, referring to the time when you were taken and tortured. The memory of those days still haunts him, a shadow that lingers even in the light of your recovery.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore ,” you promise, “We’ll win this time.”

He doesn’t argue, doesn’t push back. Instead, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he can shield you from all the dangers that lie ahead. And for this moment, you let him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him as you cling to the warmth and safety of his embrace.

–

The war room feels like it's vibrating with the unspoken tautness that hangs in the air, the usual hum of quiet conversations replaced by an almost suffocating silence. The X-Men gather around the large, circular table, all eyes drawn to the holographic map that flickers to life at the center, casting a bluish glow over the faces of the team. 

Scott stands at the head of the table. His visor hides the full intensity of his gaze, but the way his jaw is set, and the tension in his posture reveals enough. There’s no need for words to convey the stakes—everyone knows that what they do next could be the turning point in their ongoing battle against the anti-mutant organization that has been a thorn in their side for far too long.

“We’ve finally got an update on the organization’s movements,” he announces, “It’s taken longer than we’d hoped, and we’ve lost precious time because they’ve gone to ground. Their losses during our rescue mission were significant, but that only means they’re going to be even more cautious from here on out.”

As he speaks, the holographic map shifts, transforming into a detailed 3D model of a remote, mountainous region far from any major city. The terrain is rugged, the kind of place where someone could easily disappear if they didn’t want to be found. The map zooms in, highlighting the location where the organization has apparently relocated—another isolated, heavily fortified compound, this time nestled within the mountains. 

Jean, standing just to the right of Scott, steps forward to add her insights. 

“They’ve moved their operations here,” she says, “From what we’ve gathered, this new location is far more secure. They’ve enhanced their security protocols significantly. They’re not going to let another attack happen easily, especially after the damage we inflicted last time.”

The hologram continues to shift, revealing more details about the new facility: the reinforced walls, the watchtowers equipped with advanced surveillance, the array of weaponry designed to repel even the most determined assault. It’s clear that the organization has learned from their mistakes—they’ve gone underground, and they’ve fortified their defenses to the point where any attempt to breach them would require more than just brute force. 

The room remains silent. Your team has faced insurmountable odds before, but this is different. This is a challenge that requires more than just strength; it demands strategy, cunning, and the kind of precision that doesn’t leave room for error.

Scott lets the silence linger for a moment, before continuing. “We’re dealing with a highly secure facility,” his voice cuts through the quiet. “And they know we’re coming. We need to be smart about our next move. No plan isn’t an option; it’s suicide.”

Flickering of the 3D model casts an eerie glow in the room as his words hang in the air. Jean, who has been studying the map intently, speaks up again. “We need to take down the leaders without giving them a chance to regroup or escape. If we can isolate them from their security forces and cut off their communication, we’ll have them cornered.”

Hank nods in agreement. “Their reliance on advanced technology is both their strength and their weakness.”

“We could use the terrain to our advantage, I could create natural disaster—an avalanche, perhaps—that forces them to redirect their resources,” Ororo suggests from her place, “While they’re dealing with that, a small, covert team could infiltrate the compound and take whoever’s directing by surprise.”

Scott considers this, his mind running through the logistics. “It’s risky, but it could work. We’ll need to divide our forces. Here’s the plan: Ororo, just like last time, you’ll create the distraction—a controlled avalanche to draw their attention and forces away from the main compound. Hank, you’ll work on disabling their communications and security systems. ”

He pauses. “And knowing you, you’ll be able to breach their data system and gather all their information, right?” 

Hank smirks, “you didn’t even need to ask.”

Scott turns his gaze to you next, “You, Jean, and Logan will then enter with the primary objective of finding the leaders.”

As he speaks, a thought strikes you—something that could turn the tide even more decisively in your favor. You step forward. 

“Instead of all three of us focusing on infiltration, I think we should split our efforts. Jean and Logan can act as a distraction on the interior—draw attention away from the main targets—while I go in as a spy. I can locate the leaders, snuff them out, and corner them before they even realize what’s happening.”

Scott tilts his head slightly, considering your suggestion. The rest of the team turns to you, their expressions ranging from curiosity to concern. But it’s Logan’s gaze that whips toward you with immediate sharpness, his protective instincts on high alert.

“You’re suggesting we divide our forces even more?” Scott asks cautiously, like he needs you to confirm what you had just said. “Jean and Logan as a diversion, while you go in alone?”

You nod, meeting his gaze with confidence. “Exactly. With Jean’s telepathy and Logan’s… well, Logan’s everything, they can create enough chaos on the interior to keep the guards and security forces occupied,” you state, “Meanwhile, I’ll move undetected through the compound. I can locate the leaders’ exact position and contain them before they have a chance to escape or call for help.”

“It makes sense,” Hank pipes up, “If Logan and Jean draw the attention of the security forces, you can slip through the cracks while they’re preoccupied, get to the leaders, and cut the head off the snake.”

Before anyone else can chime in, Logan steps forward, his features furrowed. “No,” he says flatly, his voice like a growl. “I don’t like the idea of you going in alone—it’s too risky. We can’t have a repeat of what happened last time.”

You meet his eyes, understanding his concern, but you remain resolute. “I know it’s risky, but it’s the best way to ensure we get the leaders without triggering a full-scale assault.”

“Best way? Or the most dangerous way?” he shoots back, and you can feel his frustration growing. “You’re talking about going in there alone, with no backup. If something goes wrong, we might not get to you in time.”

“That’s why we have the distraction,” you counter, “You and Jean will keep the guards occupied, and I’ll move quickly. It’s our best shot.”

He bites down hard, the muscles in his neck straining as he struggles to keep his temper under control. “Damn it, this isn’t about taking shots, it’s about keeping you safe!” His voice rises slightly, “You don’t need to do this alone. We can find another way.”

“I’m not doing it alone,” you reassure, “I’ll have the team behind me, just like always. You know as well as I do that if we all go in together, it’ll be a bloodbath. This is the only way to avoid that.”

“And what happens if you get caught? What happens if they see through the distraction? You think I can just stand back and watch while you put yourself in the line of fire? If you get taken again…” he can barely finish his sentence as all of his fears seem to flash before his eyes. 

“Logan, you’re not hearing me,” you insist, stepping closer to him. “This isn’t about me wanting to take unnecessary risks. It’s about making sure the mission succeeds. If we don’t do this right, it’s not just me—it’s all of us, all mutants, at risk.”

The room is silent, the rest of the team watching the exchange with bated breath, knowing it’s not their place to step in. They look on with concern, eyes flicking between you and Logan.

Logan shakes his head. “I can’t lose you again, darlin’. I just… I need you to be safe.”

“I know, Logan,” you respond. “But this isn’t just about you or me. It’s about stopping these people once and for all. I need to do this. We need to do this.”

His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, as if searching for the words he wants to say. When he looks back up at you, you can see the conflict in his eyes, begging you to take it back. 

“Just promise me… promise me you’ll be careful. No heroics, no unnecessary risks. You find them, and you tell us. Immediately.”

“I promise,” you say, your voice sincere. “I’ll be careful. I’ll find them, and then we’ll take them down.”

Logan holds your gaze for a long moment, the tension between you slowly easing but not entirely dissipating. Finally, he nods, though his face remains tight with worry. “Alright. But I’m not letting you out of my sight once we’re in. As soon as you notify, I’ll be right there.”

Scott clears his throat, bringing the conversation back to the task at hand. “Then it’s settled,” he says, his voice a little gruffer than usual, as if he, too, felt the weight of the argument.

The team begins to disperse to finalize preparations, but Logan lingers, pulling you aside for a moment of privacy. His hand finds yours. 

“I know you can handle this, but you gotta understand—I can’t lose you again, darlin’. So, whatever happens in there, you keep your head down and remember we’ve got your back.”

You look up at him, seeing the layers of emotion in his eyes—fear, anger, love, and a deep, almost desperate need to protect you. It both breaks your heart and strengthens your resolve. “I know, Logan,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return. “I’m not planning on being a hero. I just want to—need to—do my part to end this.”

He releases a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he nods slowly, reluctantly. “Alright. Let’s get this done.”

—-

Nestled deep within the uneven mountain range, strategically positioned on a plateau that overlooks the surrounding valleys, is the organizations base.  The avalanche Ororo summoned looms threateningly, large bursts of snow and ice whipping through the valley, creating the perfect cover for your operation. Wind whistles through the land, followed by the rumble of mountains that shakes the very ground beneath your feet. 

The distraction is in full effect.

Before you left the Blackbird, Logan pulled you aside. He didn’t waste time with words, instead leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that was both loving and fierce. It was a reminder of everything he felt, everything he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for in the heat of the moment.

And when he pulled back, his gaze swapping over you, like he was seeking to memorize every detail.  

“Remember, I’ll be right with you as soon as you say the words”

Now, you’re crouched near a narrow ledge beside a small door, eyes scanning the base of the mountain where the compound’s defenses are now focused on the disaster outside. Logan and Jean are already inside, their presence wreaking havoc within, diverting the guards’ attention away from you. Every so often, you could hear distant sounds of conflict—the telltale shink of Logan’s claws, and the panicked shouts of guards trying to coordinate their defenses as he ripped through them.

You slip inside, lowering the trap door behind you as the sound of the storm fades into the distance. The passage is dark and cramped, the air thick with the scent of earth and stone. Each movement you make is deliberate and careful to avoid making noise. You’re able to find a somewhat agreeable position on your hands and knees, beginning the descent through the passage as it slopes downward, leading you deeper into the mountain and closer to your target.

After what feels like an eternity, the route widens, and you find yourself at the entrance to a narrow corridor. Pausing, you listen intently for any signs of movement, but all you hear is the mechanics behind the facility’s generators, muffled by the layers of rock and metal that surround you. The halls are freakishly quiet, the guards either drawn away by the avalanche or dispatched to Logan and Jean. Your breathing stays steady, your senses heightened as you navigate the twists and turns of the labyrinthine interior.

You’re close now, so close you can you can hear the muffled voices of the leaders on the other side, in the room where they’re all holed up, their tones laced with fear and frustration. Your heart pounds in your chest as you approach the final corner, every nerve ending on edge as you prepare to make your move.

But as you round the corner, you freeze in your place—there’s a guard standing just outside the door to the leaders’ room. He hasn’t seen you yet, but it’s only a matter of seconds before he does. His hand is already reaching for the radio on his belt, about to call in an alert.

You have no time to think, only to act. With a burst of speed, you lunge forward, slamming your hand over his mouth just as he begins to open it to shout. His eyes widen in shock, and he immediately starts to struggle, his body twisting as he tries to break free from your grip. 

​​Unfortunatley, you knew from the moment you saw the him that using your powers wasn’t an option. The hallway is dark and narrow, the only illumination coming from faint emergency lights far down the corridor. If you were to use your cosmic abilities, the glow alone would give you away, casting unnatural light in a place that should be cloaked in shadows. Who know’s what threats that would attract?

Every instinct in you screams to unleash your energy, to end the fight quickly and decisively, but the risk is too great. One wrong move, one flash of light or sound that doesn’t belong, and the entire mission could be compromised. The element of surprise is your greatest advantage right now, and you can’t afford to lose it.

That’s why you have to do this the hard way—silently, and with nothing but your own strength and wits. It’s a gamble, but it’s the only way to ensure you reach the leaders undetected, without alerting every remaining guard in the compound to your presence.

The guard’s elbow connects with your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs, but you don’t let go. You tighten your grip, your other hand grabbing his wrist to prevent him from drawing his weapon. He thrashes violently, his strength surprising as he drives his knee into your stomach, nearly doubling you over with the force of the blow.

Pain radiates through your abdomen, but you grit your teeth and hold on, knowing that if he gets free, it would all be over. You push back with all your strength, slamming him into the wall with a sickening thud. His head snaps back, dazed, but he’s not down yet.

He recovers quickly, his free hand darting toward your face in a desperate attempt to claw at your eyes. You twist your head just in time, feeling his nails graze your cheek as you shift your weight, using the momentum to drive your knee into his thigh. Letting out a muffled grunt against your hand, he swivels his body again, this time managing to get one arm free. Before you can react, his fist slams into your side. You stagger, your grip slipping for just a fraction of a second—long enough for him to start reaching for the radio again.

Panic surges through you as you realize he’s about to call for help. Desperation drives you and with a burst of adrenaline, you bring your elbow up, smashing it into the side of his head. The blow is hard enough to daze him, and you use the opening to drive him back against the wall again, harder this time.

He slumps slightly, but you know you can’t let up. You release your grip on his wrist and, with a quick movement, drive your hand into the pressure point just below his ear. His eyes widen in shock, his body going rigid for a brief moment before his legs give out beneath him. You catch him as he falls, easing him to the ground as quietly as you can.

Your heart is pounding, your breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as you crouch beside the unconscious guard. The silence of the hallway is deafening in the aftermath of the struggle, your pulse thundering in your ears. You take a moment to steady yourself, forcing your breathing to slow as you check the hallway for any sign of other guards. It’s still clear—for now.

You glance down at the guard, making sure he’s truly out cold before dragging him into a shadowed corner, out of sight from anyone who might happen to pass by. You press a hand to your side, wincing as you feel the dull ache where he landed that brutal punch. But there’s no time to dwell on the pain—you’re too close to your target to stop now.

With the guard taken care of, you turn your attention back to the room, adjusting your stance and running through the plan in your mind. There’s no mask, no barrier to hide your identity. The men in that room will know who you are—or at least, they’ll think they do. At the gala, you were Mrs. Daniels, the woman they believed was just another wealthy socialite. But tonight, they’ll learn the truth.

“I’m at the target,” you whisper into the comms, keeping your voice low. “Moving in now.”

With one final glance down the corridor to ensure there is no one else following your tracks, you slither through the door, moving like a shadow into the room. The old men are gathered around a large table, their expressions ranging from fear to fury as they argue in low, heated tones. Papers and maps are strewn across the table, evidence of their frantic attempts to come up with a plan as the everything falls apart around them.

They don’t notice you at first, too absorbed in their dispute to realize they’re no longer alone. You take advantage of their distraction, positioning yourself in the shadows near the door. 

“What do you mean we’ve lost contact with the guard tower?” one of them hisses, his face pale and sweat-slicked. “This place is supposed to be impenetrable!”

“We should never have moved to this location,” another snaps, his hands trembling as he clutches the edge of the table. “We’re sitting ducks here!”

You let them bicker for a moment longer, taking in the layout of the room and assessing the situation. The leaders are cornered, with no visible exits other than the door you came through. 

They’ve completely exposed themselves to you, and they don’t even realize it yet.

Finally you step forward, your presence announced by the soft rustle of your clothing as you emerge from the shadows, and the effect is immediate—every head snaps in your direction, eyes widening in shock as they take in the sight of you standing there.

The man who was speaking freezes mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as he takes a closer look at you. Recognition dawns on his face, followed quickly by fear. “You… You’re the woman from the gala,” he stammers, his voice shaking. “Mrs. Daniels?”

You give him a cold, measured look, the corner of your mouth twitching into a faint smile. “Not exactly,” you answer, “But I’m glad you remember me.”

Without warning, you raise your hands, cosmic energy flaring to life around your fingers, shimmering with an ethereal glow. You begin shape the energy into chains, each one snaking through the air and wrapping around the men, binding them to their seats. They struggle, but the chains are unbreakable, pinning them in place with a force that leaves no room for escape. It’s almost satisfying, seeing these men in chains, so helpless—reminds you of when you were in the exact same position, in the dark, cold, cell of the island. 

One of the men lets out a strangled cry, his eyes wide with terror. “Please! Don’t hurt us! We—we can negotiate!”

You step closer, your eyes cold as you survey the scene. “Negotiate? You think you have anything to bargain with?” you demand, knowing they won’t be able to answer. “You’ve done enough damage. Now it’s time to face the consequences.”

Just as you finish speaking, the door bursts open, and Logan strides in, Hank, who had managed to enter the compound after downloading all the data, following close behind. Logan’s eyes immediately zero in on the men and his expression shifts from that of concern to a furious glare. 

“You’re lucky it was her who got here first,” the mutant seethes, “She spared you.”

The men cower in their seats, trembling visibly under the weight of Logan’s unrelenting gaze as he stalks toward them with a predatory grace. His presence fills the room, seeping into every corner, suffocating any hope they had of escape. With each step he takes, slow and deliberate, the air thickens, his movements calculated to instill fear in their very bones. His claws, unsheathed and glinting ominously in the dim light, are slick with fresh blood, and as he takes in the sight before him, his eyes narrow with cold, lethal intent, the silence punctuated only by the sound of their labored breaths, ragged with terror.

“If it were up to me, you’d be begging for mercy right about now.”

Hank, who had been watching from behind with a calculating expression, steps in. He places a hand on Logan’s shoulder, “Logan, we need them to talk.”

Logan doesn’t move at first, his eyes locked onto the quivering man in front of him. Ultimately, he narrows his eyes, pulling his claws back ever so slightly, though his posture remains alert and intense. 

“They better start talking, then.”

Contrasting Logan’s blatant display of fury, Hank steps forward collectedly. His voice is even, almost clinical, as he addresses the leaders. “We have all the information we need—every file, every document. Your entire operation is in our hands. You have two choices: confess everything in a public conference, or we leak it all. The world will know what you’ve done, and you’ll be hunted down by more than just us.”

The man you recognize as the stocky one from the gala, perhaps emboldened by Hank’s more measured approach, tries to regain some semblance of control. He splutters, “You can’t do this… We’ll—”

But before he can finish, Logan is on him in a flash, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him forward until they’re nose to nose. The corners of your mouth flip upwards while the man lets out a strangled gasp, his eyes wide with terror.

“You don’t get to tell us what we can or can’t do. You’ve already lost, old man. Now it’s just a matter of how much pain you’re going to be in when this is over.”

Instantly, the stocky man loses all bravado, his face draining of colour is response to Logan’s aggression. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, but no sound comes out. He’s utterly terrified, and rightfully so. The other groupies, seeing their comrade’s terror, exchange nervous glances. They’ve been completely outmaneuvered, and now they’re at the mercy of those they’ve wronged.

“They’ll confess,” you decide for them, stepping forward, gaining control over the situation. You deactivate the cosmic chains binding the men, though the energy still crackles ominously around your hands, a reminder of the power you wield. “Because they know what’s waiting for them if they don’t.”

Logan gives you a nod, his gaze softening slightly as he looks at you. There’s a flicker of pride in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the strength you’ve shown. “Good work, darlin’,” he muses.

You return his words with a small smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over you now that the worst is over. 

“Let’s get them out of here.”

You, Logan, and Hank quickly work together to secure the leaders, ensuring they’re ready for transport back to the Blackbird. They’re too shaken to resist, their egos completely shattered. The sounds of battle outside have quieted—the rest of the team has done their job well.

Once inside the jet, Logan pulls you into a close embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck. The warmth of his body against yours should be comforting, but as he tightens his hold, a sharp pain flares up in your side where the guard had landed a solid kick earlier.

You can’t help the wince that escapes you, the pain lingering and making it hard to fully relax in his hold. Logan immediately pulls back, concern flashing in his eyes as they search yours. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low but edged with worry. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head slightly, “I’m fine,” you say, but the way Logan’s eyes narrow tells you he’s not buying it.

He doesn’t say anything else, just waits, his gaze steady and insistent. Finally, you sigh, knowing there’s no point in hiding it from him. “I ran into a guard right outside the room,” you admit, glancing down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “He was about to call for backup, and I had to take him out quietly. It got… a little rough.”

His expression darkens, his jaw clenching as he processes what you said. “I should track that bastard down and make him regret ever laying a hand on you.”

Despite the seriousness of his tone, there’s a warmth in his words that makes your heart swell. You reach out, placing a hand on his chest. “I handled it, Logan. It was just a fight, and I won.”

He grunts, though the anger in his eyes doesn’t entirely fade. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy making him pay for it.”

You give him a small, reassuring smile. “Well, you can save that energy for when we get these guys to talk.”

Logan nods, his expression becoming serious once more as he looks toward the secured leaders, who are being watched by the rest of the team. “They’ll talk,” he says, his voice carrying a promise of retribution.

“And if they don’t… well, we’ll make sure they wish they had.”

—-

Turns out, getting people to admit their crimes when threatened with their lives is easier than you thought. The men, who at one point, seemed so arrogant and untouchable, crumbled like a house of cards under the pressure. Faced with the undeniable evidence the X-Men had gathered and the very real threat of exposure, they agreed to hold a public conference, where they would confess to everything. 

The world watched in shock as these well-known figureheads divulged their involvement in anti-mutant activities, including kidnapping, torture, and illegal experimentation. The fallout was immediate and severe—governments and law enforcement agencies across the globe moved swiftly to dismantle the remnants of their organization or any ties they had to its leaders, and within days, the men found themselves behind bars, stripped of their power and influence.

For the first time in months, you feel a sense of peace settling into your bones. The constant weight of fear, the dread that had plagued you since your capture, begins to lift. You’re finally able to breathe again, knowing that the people who hurt you, who threatened everything you cared about, are rotting in a cell, where they belong.

—

It’s late evening at the X-Mansion, and you find yourself in the kitchen, the comforting whir of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of dishes the only sounds breaking the quiet. Logan is there too, leaning next to you against the counter with a beer in hand. He’s out of his combat gear now, dressed in his usual casual attire—a worn flannel shirt and jeans, still stunning in the rugged simplicity of his appearance. 

“You know,” you say, glancing at him with a playful smile as you pour yourself a glass of water, “I never took you for the beer-in-the-kitchen type. Always thought you’d be more of a ‘brooding with whiskey in the dark’ kind of guy.”

He smirks, taking a long sip from his bottle before responding. “Depends on the night,” he replies with a wink. “Sometimes I like to mix things up, keep you on your toes.”

You roll your eyes, setting your glass down on the counter as you lean in a little closer. “Is that so? Well, I’ve got to admit, seeing you all domestic in here is kind of nice. Who knew the Wolverine had a soft spot for late-night kitchen hangouts?”

Logan chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that makes your heart skip a beat. “What can I say, sweetheart? Can’t have you thinking I’m all claws and no charm.”

“Oh, so you’re charming now?” you tease, reaching out to poke him playfully in the chest. “I must’ve missed that memo.”

Settings his beer down, Logan captures your hand in his and pulls you closer, his voice dropping to that thick, throaty tone that shoots right down to your core. “You know better than anyone that I’ve got plenty of charm. You just keep pretending not to notice.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as close the distance, resting your head against his chest. “Maybe I like keeping you on your toes too.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and for a moment, everything feels perfect—just the two of you, in the quiet of the kitchen, with nothing hanging over your heads. No missions, no threats, just peace.

Just like he had wished for. 

“You know,” Logan starts after a long stretch of comfortable silence, “you’re a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

You tilt your head back to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Says the guy who can heal from pretty much anything.”

He gives you a small, affectionate smile, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles along your waist. “I’m serious. What you went through… what we just did… not everyone could come out of that as strong as you have.”

“It helps to have someone like you around,” you admit softly. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

A tender look crosses his face, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You did more than just survive, darlin’. You fought back, and you won. Don’t ever forget that.”

The moment is interrupted when the kitchen door swings open, and Ororo walks in, pausing mid-step when she sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. Her eyebrows shoot up, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Ororo teases, her tone light and playful. “Logan, I never expected you to be such a romantic. You’ve been holding out on us.”

Logan doesn’t miss a beat, his response immediate and full of that rough-edged warmth that you’ve come to love so much. 

“Only for her.”

Ororo’s smile widens, and she gives you a wink before heading to the fridge, grabbing an apple and turning back to the door. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it, then. Just remember to keep it PG in the kitchen.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and unburdened as you bury your face in Logan’s chest, feeling the deep rumble of his own laughter vibrating against you. The sound is rich, a low and genuine noise that fills the space between you with fondness and affection.

“PG, huh?” you murmur into his shirt, your voice laced with amusement. “Guess that means we’re in trouble.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m always on my best behavior,” he smirks

“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

He chuckles, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe. But I can be when it counts.”

You shake your head, grinning as you playfully swat his chest. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Logan captures your hand again, his grip warm and firm, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ve already seen it,” he says huskily, “But if you need more convincing…”

You laugh, reaching your free hand to the back of his head, pulling him down into a passionate kiss, his mouth warm against yours, the taste of beer clouding your senses. 

“You’re a good man, Logan,” you get out in between kisses, “And I’m glad you’re mine.”

Logan’s eyes gleam, and he pulls you impossibly closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. “I’m glad you’re mine too, darlin’.”

Later, when he finishes his beer and sets the empty bottle on the counter, he turns back to you, his expression content. “Ready to call it a night?”

You nod, feeling the pleasant weight of exhaustion beginning to settle in. “Yeah, I think so. But only if you promise to keep up this charming act tomorrow.”

Logan grins, taking your hand as you both head toward the door. 

“Just for you, darlin’. Just for you.”

-------

A/N: thank you everyone for all the reblogs, comments, and notes i've received on this blog these last few days, i can't believe it's growing to fast!

[hoshinasblade]

just a thought but hoshina looking so soft in this photo? i can imagine how the entire pr team was having such a hard time trying to take a good photograph of the vice-captain that would fit the theme - the defense force wanted to do a photo op so they can recruit more cadets, and what better way to encourage people to join than parade the most good-looking skilled officers?

hoshina soshiro is used to looking fierce or silly - but never in between. he is either a soldier or a joker - until you attempted to take a set of his pictures. almost everyone in the team has given up, so you asked the vice-captain to follow your simple instructions as you adjust the settings of your camera. "give your best smile to me, sir," you asked.

click, click, click.

your photos ended up chosen as the cover of a famous magazine's monthly issue, doing very well to advertise the recruitment process of the anti-kaiju divisions.

you kept a copy of the picture in your wallet, and the photoshoot made an interesting story when your in-laws inquired how you and hoshina met before dating each other. "let's just say that it wasn't only pictures that were developed that day," hoshina joked, making you laugh.

[doyouwanttoseeabug]

Star Trek crew but they're all different species hear me out:

Jim - Jim has to remain human. He's the humanist human around, and also there is infinite comedy in the idea of a bunch of other species making exhausted eye contact whenever he pulls his bullshit.

Spock remains Vulcan obviously.

I initially thought Tellarite Bones BUT I think Andorian Bones fits better. Adding an extra-spicy layer to his Thing with Spock if their grandparents were literally shooting at each other. Every time Jim is Extremely Jim, Bones pulls out the ushaan-tor with a Dammit Jim I'm a doctor not a duellist but DON'T TEMPT ME

Romulan Uhura. No listen, trust me on this. Escaping from the Romulan empire because her love of languages leads her to a love of other cultures and a fiercely anti-imperialist anti-hegemonic stance. Her poise and calm comes from a lifetime of lying to the Tal Shiar, who were aggressively trying to recruit her before she joined Starfleet. How did she become an expert in diplomacy? Well her favourite childhood hobby was not getting dissapeared by the state so the rest came naturally.

Klingon Rand was revealed to me in a dream.

SCOTTY is the Tellarite. Jim rings down to engineering all meek like "hello Scotty can you tell me why the "ship is about to explode" light is flashing" and Scotty's like your mother was a leper and your father was a clown. Yeah the engines are fucked.

Chekov is Orion for The Angst TM

I know I KNOW that the Federation hadn't made contact with the Cardassians in TOS but Cardassian Sulu. He's so nice and smiley and polite :) and he's just saying Captain that if you want anyone poisoned I might know a guy :) the guy is me, Captain :)

I really wanted a Ferengi on here but no one fits so. Ferengi Chapel I guess. She's actually incredibly nice and way more professional than Bones but occasionally there's a gleam in her eyes and you just know she's thinking Oh, if I wanted to, I could rip these suckers off.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alternate Series Finale - Protective Lillian AU

When Lex takes Lena, he's quick to lock the anti-magic device around her wrist. Lena immediately feels the effect-- a weight on her chest, her energy sapping away. But she pushes through it, refusing to let her brother see any weakness. Thus contained, he's confident enough to thrust her into the chamber where he's stowed Esme without further restraint.

"Lena!"

Esme flies into Lena's arms the moment she lays eyes on her aunt. Lena bundles her close, carrying her to sit on the bed as Esme sobs. She soothes her, closing her eyes against the drain of the device on her wrist.

"It's okay," she promises. "I won't let anything happen."

In that moment, Esme's relief is so great, and she feels so loved, that the love totem transfers to Lena. Neither of them notice the change, until Lex comes to check on it, and finds the totem is no longer on the back of Esme's neck. He quickly puts the pieces together.

"You will always fall into the light," he echoes, smirking at his sister.

When it comes time to make the trade for the allstone, Lex does bind Lena's hands, lest she try anything foolish. Regardless, Lena still hoists Esme into her arms, whispering for the girl to hold onto her, and not let go.

At the rendezvous point, Lena stands with Lex and Nyxly, watching the rest of the team gather at the far end of the bridge.

"Release them," Kara orders, her voice stern and fierce as Supergirl.

Lex smirks. "You can have the girl," he allows. "As a show of good faith."

He nods at Lena, who regards him for a long moment before deciding that chances were good he'll honor his word. After all, Esme is no longer of any value to him, now that the totem has chosen Lena.

Lena crouches, setting Esme on her feet. "Go on, sweetheart. Your moms will keep you safe."

"What about you?" Esme asks, her chin wobbling.

Lena gives a reassuring smile. "I'll be okay. I promise."

She presses a kiss to Esme's head, before giving her a gentle push towards the center of the bridge where Alex and Kelly wait. Esme walks hesitantly towards them, then sprints the rest of the way until she's swept up in Kelly's arms and shuffled to the back of the group, out of the line of fire.

"Now the allstone."

"Lena first," Kara demands.

"I don't think so." Lex lifts a small remote in his hand, and clicks a button. In an instant, electric fire arcs through Lena's body, making her scream as she falls to her knees. When it passes, Lena is left gasping, and nearly rolling her eyes.

Of course the device on her wrist would serve a dual purpose.

"The allstone," Lex repeats.

"Supergirl, don't--" Lena's plea comes too late.

Kara reluctantly opens her fist, and the moment it comes into view it flies through the air to settle into Nyxly's palm. She and Lex share a mutual grin of triumph. With a twist of Lex's watch, a portal opens behind them.

When Lex hauls Lena back to her feet, Kara cries out. "You have what you want! Let her go!"

"And let you have her?" Lex tsks. "You should know me better than that, Supergirl."

With that, Lex and Nyxly step back through the portal, dragging Lena with them. The last thing Kara sees before the portal winks out is the fear in Lena's eyes.

----

They shove Lena back in the same room as before, but this time, without Esme to put on a brave face for, Lena falls into the bed, exhausted. With her magic dampened, part of her life force is no longer accessible, and she declines quickly.

By the time Lillian comes to speak with her, she finds Lena feverish and pallid, her sallow skin slicked with clammy sweat. Her eyes barely flicker open when Lillian cups her cheek, smoothing the damp hair from her face.

Lillian is livid. She takes Lex to task when he comes in to visit, but he remains unfazed. "You should know better than anyone how dangerous magic can be," he says. "Isn't that why you hid all those talismans around the house?"

"She's your sister," Lillian reminds her son.

He shrugs. "And my murderer, remember."

When he leaves, Lillian remains. Because what Lex doesn't know is that his mother has pilfered Lena's signal watch. Gazing at her daughter for a long moment, she makes her decision.

She activates the signal.

[nanawritesit]

Obey Me! Characters As Types of Couples You’d Be

A/N: No one requested this 🙃 But I couldn’t stop thinking about it while I was working at the coffee shop all day so here you go :)

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon

—————

Lucifer: The Old Married Couple

You two are the extremely established couple. Anyone who knows of your existence knows you’ve been together FOREVER

You have a perfect morning routine together that involves helping each other get dressed and cooking breakfast, and you guys get out the door on time every morning.

Everyone laughs at you for your duality. One minute you’ll be intensely arguing over who has to do the dishes, and the next you’re cuddling up to one another and kissing

You guys get on each other’s nerves a LOT

But you’ll always be each other’s rocks. At the end of the day, coming home and seeing him gives you so much comfort.

You can’t keep any secrets from each other, and why would you want to anyway? There’s nothing about you that he wouldn’t love

You’ll support each other through anything, and no matter what life throws at you, you always make it work ❤️

Mammon: The “Ride or Die” Couple

You’re the “most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse” pair.

Like if any of your friends could bring a couple to a back alley fight, they’d pick you.

You’re practically inseparable. Every time someone sees one of you, the other is soon seen tagging along behind them.

“Partners in crime” is your nickname from the brothers 💀

You always go on missions together, fiercely protecting one another against your enemies. You’d take a bullet for him any day and he’d do the same for you!

And it’s not just in physical fights either. If anyone ever dares to talk shit about you in front of him, he will tear them to shreds. Similarly, all the brothers know not to tease Mammon too much around you.

Leviathan: The Anti-Social Couple

People won’t see or hear from you for DAYS.

In fact if it weren’t for your couple twitch streams, they might assume you were dead 😀

Your friends know that if you aren’t given at least two weeks prior notice, you won’t be showing up to an event.

And early mornings? Yeah forget it. You two won’t untangle yourselves from each others’ arms until at least noon.

Which leads to a lot of late night anime marathons or gaming sessions! Dinners consist of ramune sodas and cup noodles, followed by a dessert of snack cakes.

You’ll go back and forth between hyperfixating on the same franchise, and not speaking to each other while on your own separate devices. Each cycle lasts about three hours.

Satan: The Smart Couple

You two are constantly fighting for the top spots in your classes.

To the innocent stranger, you could be mistaken as enemies. You engaged in heated debates, and often had different points of view.

But during study hall, people would find you curled up on a couch in the library with you in his lap as you both read your books.

On the rare occasion that you agreed on something, you were an unstoppable team against the opposing side. You’d eat them alive and leave zero crumbs.

Despite the debating, you guys are always proud of each other. He cheers the loudest when you’re awarded top exchange student at an assembly, and you’re practically his campaign manager when he runs for class representative.

Cute study dates where you wind up collapsed on top of him on the floor, books and coffee cups strewn everywhere <3

Lucifer comes in and covers you both with a blanket 🥺😭

Asmodeus: The Aesthetic Couple

You’re each others’ official photographers. If someone looked through your phones, they’d be full of well shot pictures of the two of you both together and solo.

You guys at the mall, you eating ice cream, him at the book store, you guys at the coffee shop…

And of course each photo shoot goes straight to devil gram. You’re practically an influencer couple, and everyone ships you so hard.

You guys took some spicy pics in lingerie together and they went VIRAL 🔥

Every time you go literally anywhere, random strangers will come up to you and tell you you’re the most beautiful couple they’ve ever seen

Most people didn’t know which one of you they were more jealous of, sometimes leading to them beginning to question their sexuality 💀

You have the same sense of style and always have the coolest outfits. At every event, you always look the best, and everyone is constantly raving about it afterwards.

Stealing each other’s clothes, shoes, jewelry, makeup, and bags is completely normal. What’s Asmo’s is yours and what’s yours is Asmo’s 🥰

Beelzebub: The Cuddly Couple

Also known as the “PDA couple.”

You guys HAVE to be touching in some way at all times! Whether it’s linking pinkies, his hand in your back pocket, your arm around his waist… if you’re in the same room, you’re practically attached at the hip.

You can never seem to be close enough to him when cuddling. Even if your noses are touching, he’s gripping onto you tightly and telling you to get closer.

You guys love feeding each other, much to the annoyance of the brothers

You sitting on his lap is his favorite form of non-sexual intimacy. He just loves how small you are compared to him, straddling his lap like a koala with your little legs dangling off the chair. He’ll play with your hair and tuck your head into the crook of his neck, smiling down at you affectionately.

Leaving the house without giving each other a kiss is practically sacrilege 😌

You have sickeningly cute food-themed nicknames for each other. Cupcake, honey bunch, sweetie pie, love muffin, cookie…

Belphegor: The Rebellious Couple

You two are always either plotting or executing some sort of diabolical scheme.

You plan the best pranks, and they get talked about for years afterwards. No one else could ever top them

As a result, a lot of your dates happen when you’re both grounded to the attic as punishment.

It was honestly stupid of Lucifer to consider a night trapped in the same dark room full of nothing but cozy blankets as a punishment. You didn’t need anything to entertain you when you had each other.

You’d make the world’s coolest blanket fort and hold each other close in it all night, foreheads pressed together as you talked for hours between kisses

You two never get in trouble without the other though, because that would mean you get punished separately :(

Feeding off of each others’ chaotic energy in class and annoying the teacher until you both get sent off to detention

Running away from Lucifer together, laughing and holding hands as he chases after you

Diavolo: The Power Couple

The two of you together are truly fit for royalty. All his subjects agreed that you were the rightful rulers of the Devildom.

You were a symbol of peace and love, making everyone feel safe and cared for

You always attended charity events together, making speeches and bonding with demons who needed help

You two throw the BEST parties. Your ballroom outfits are the envy of all, and everyone can’t help but swoon at the sight of you dancing the night away 🥰

You guys do interviews together, smiling at each other as you discuss your relationship with the public

Shielding each other from paparazzi, nonchalantly striding past them holding hands

“MC and Diavolo” becomes the new standard by which all other iconic couples are held.

Your fairytale wedding was the most watched program in the history of the Devildom ❤️

Barbatos: The Dependable Couple

If anyone has a job that needs to be done right, they’ll come to the two of you first.

The two of you just take care of everyone so well in addition to running the Demon Lord’s Castle.

You often tag-teamed as the brothers’ therapists. Barb would comfort Mammon while making dinner, and you would give Satan advice while doing the dishes, then you would both take a trip to Purgatory Hall to help Simeon and Solomon with a spell

Time-traveling together ❤️

You guys don’t get a lot of privacy and have been caught getting intimate by Diavolo a few times 💀 He’s also innocently interrupted your dates, not realizing how big of a third wheel he was being.

You started planning how to find the young lord a partner of his own so he’d leave you alone. And you figured you might as well get the brothers into relationships as well while you were at it.

Simeon: The Romantic Couple

Everyone thought you were the perfect couple, and they honestly weren’t that far from the truth.

You guys dominated practically every love language: writing each other poems, having regular date nights, making passionate love, helping each other with chores and school, buying each other cute little gifts…

You take spontaneous trips to the celestial realm and everyone there freaks out upon your arrival 🥺

Romantic picnic dates in the flower gardens by a pond, with champagne and chocolate covered strawberries… putting flowers in each other’s hair and lying next to each other in the grass ☺️

Every once in a while, if the weather was hot, he’d convince you to come for a swim with him in the pond. Your clothes would be left on the bank as you laughed and splashed at each other, floating out to the middle and holding onto each other, foreheads pressed together with your hair dripping wet

He actually wrote a new romance novel inspired by you, and it becomes one of history’s most beloved love stories ❤️

Solomon: The Mysterious Couple

No one ever seemed to know what you guys were up to. You were extremely private about your relationship.

You guys walked everywhere together, but hardly ever engaged in PDA. You never felt the need to, because what went on behind closed doors was enough for both of you.

You were the closest thing this world had to soulmates, being so connected to each other’s hearts… the kind of love that transcends thousands of years

Working on your magic together, going on missions and adventures to acquire mystic elements and uncover ancient secrets ✨

Everyone knows when you two are close because they can smell a strong aroma of herbs and smoke

People aren’t 100% sure whether or not they can trust you… you’re both so charismatic and charming, but at the same time there’s this suspicious air of mischief that you both seem to feed off of

You guys really don’t even care what others think of you… the only thing you care about in life is loving each other for all eternity

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Bernie Sanders has hit back fiercely at Benjamin Netanyahu over the Israeli prime minister’s claim that US universities were being overrun by antisemitism on a scale comparable to the rise of Nazism in Germany.

In a video posted on X, the progressive senator from Vermont – who is Jewish – accused Netanyahu of “insult[ing] the intelligence of the American people” by using antisemitism to distract attention from the policies of his “extremist and racist government” in the military offensive in Gaza.

“No Mr Netanyahu, it is not antisemitic or pro-Hamas to point out that, in a little over six months, your extremist government has killed over 34,000 Palestinians and wounded more than 78,000, 70% of whom are women and children,” Sanders said.

The two-and-a-half minute video listed a catalogue of further consequences of the war in the Palestinian coastal territory, including the destruction of infrastructure, hospitals, universities and schools, along with the killing of more than 400 health workers.

Sanders, who sponsored an unsuccessful Senate bill in January to make US aid to Israel conditional on its observance of human rights and international law, said Netanyahu’s government had unreasonably blocked humanitarian aid from reaching Gaza, causing “thousands of children [to] face malnutrition and famine”.

In a blistering conclusion, he said: “Mr Netanyahu, antisemitism is a vile and disgusting form of bigotry that has done unspeakable harm to many millions of people. But please, do not insult the intelligence of the American people by attempting to distract us from the immoral and illegal policies of your extremist and racist government. … It is not antisemitic to hold you accountable for your actions.”

Sanders’ comments were a riposte to a video posted on social media by Netanyahu in which he waded in to protests sweeping American university campuses and claimed not enough was being done to combat a “horrific” rise in antisemitism.

“Antisemitic mobs have taken over leading universities,” Netanyahu said. “They call for the annihilation of Israel. They attack Jewish students. They attack Jewish faculty. This is reminiscent of what happened in German universities in the 1930s. It has to be stopped. It has to be condemned and condemned unequivocally, but that’s not what happened. The response of several university presidents was shameful. Now fortunately, state, federal and local officials, many of them, have responded differently. But there has to be more.”

Netanyahu’s comments came against the backdrop of police deployments to break up pro-Palestinian protests at Columbia University and numerous other US campuses. In some universities, faculty members have been arrested, including the chair of the philosophy department and a professor of English and Indigenous studies at Emory University in Atlanta.

Jewish students have reported feeling threatened by the protests and heated atmosphere that followed Hamas’s attack on Israel on 7 October, resulting in the deaths of about 1,200 Israelis and the kidnapping of more than 200 others.

Videos posted on social media have depicted anti-Israel protesters shouting “go back to Poland” and “go back to Belarus”, apparently at Jewish students. A congressional hearing earlier in April into a reported upsurge of antisemitism at Columbia heard allegations that Jewish students had been subjected to taunts of “F the Jews”.

Last October’s attack triggered an overwhelming and continuing Israeli military response that has so far killed more than 34,000 Palestinians – according to the Hamas-run health ministry in Gaza – and led to a burgeoning humanitarian disaster, accompanied by accusations that Israel is committing “genocide”.

In his video, Netanyahu said Israel was being “falsely accused” of genocide and called it part of an “antisemitic surge”.

“Israel tries to defend itself against genocidal terrorists who hide behind civilians,” he said. “Yet it is Israel that is falsely accused of genocide. Israel that is falsely accused of starvation and sundry war crimes. It’s all one big libel. But that’s not new. We’ve seen in history that antisemitic attacks were always preceded by vilification and slander.”

The Joe Biden White House, while resisting pressure to condition or limit weapon supplies to Israel, has voiced frustration over its resistance to allowing more humanitarian aid freely into Gaza and roundly criticised the recent strikes that killed seven workers from celebrity chef Jose Andres’s World Central Kitchen charity.

Protests on campuses across the US continued on Saturday, with some protesting student bodies and universities locked in a standoff that saw demonstrators vowing to keep their movements going at the same time as college authorities moved to close down the encampments.

Police in riot gear cleared protest tents on the campus of Northeastern University in Boston, while students shouted and jeered at them, the Associated Press reported. The university said the protest had been “infiltrated by professional organisers” with no connection to the institution, while some demonstrators had used antisemitic slurs.

The picture of campus antisemitism run amok was lent further credence by Lawrence Summers, a former Harvard president and ex-US treasury secretary, who accused authorities at his former university of failing to act decisively against protesters occupying Harvard Yard.

“This is the predictable culmination of the Harvard Corporation’s failure to effectively address issues of prejudice and breakdowns of order on our campus,” he posted on X. “There can be no question that Harvard is practicing an ongoing double standard on discrimination between racism, misogyny and antisemitism.”

His comments provoked a sharp response from critics of Israel. “Your efforts to portray student demonstrators challenging Israel’s genocidal actions as ‘antisemitic’ are cheap & disingenuous,” wrote Sarah Leah Whitson, executive director of Democracy for the Arab World Now (DAWN). “These students should be commended for their courage & compassion, risking suspension & smears (like yours), to fight the most heinous crimes underway in Gaza.”

[warping-realities]

Part of the Family

Hey guys, first of all this is the long overdue 1000 followers special and also the last story for a while. I'm warning you that it may not be to everyone's taste. There are sensitive themes in the middle and I wrote it more thinking about a horror story than anything else. I don't even need to say that I don't agree with the thoughts and ideas presented by the person responsible for everything who is a fucking psychopath who piously believes that his vision of the world is the only possible one. Anyway, I hope it's an interesting read.

Alexander couldn't believe where the hell he was at that moment. For the young New Yorker, visiting a small town in Texas was way at the bottom of his to-do list, just above getting his teeth pulled without anesthesia. But Abby insisted, and he eventually caved. They had been together for a few months, having met at college where they shared a common class in Columbia. Despite her hick name, Abilene Marrie Johnson, Abby had a sharp mind and a biting sense of humor, able to throw shade right back at his sarcastic remarks with ease, making him quickly fall for her. Not that the fact she was a hot blonde with a petite, well-proportioned body gets in the way. Even her terrible Southern accent was just a remnant of what it used to be, almost unnoticeable, though he still found himself grimacing when she let it slip. That was happening way too often since she arrived in her hometown, where her dad and brother worked in construction. How low-class was that? Not that he was about to say anything to his girlfriend, who was eager for him to meet her family. He didn’t share that anxiety; he could overlook her flaws, but being stuck with two ill-mannered troglodytes was out of the question. This was gonna be his one and only trip to this backwoods hellhole, and he was doing it just to please her—later, he’d make up excuses to avoid going through this crap again.

“A July 4th lunch in a community center… how… proletarian.” He commented condescendingly while looking for his girlfriend at the entrance of the old manor that served as the town's gathering spot. Watching the myriad of folks around him, from all sorts of races mingling just fine, surprised him since he expected a bunch of racist rednecks. What didn’t surprise him was seeing most of them wearing something with the American flag or at least some stripes and stars. Abby wanted to dress like that too, but he’d never let himself be seen with someone dressed so… tacky, to say the least. Independence Day had never been celebrated at his house; his parents were fierce liberals with anarchist tendencies, viewing the day as something hijacked by far-right conservatives who used patriotism to justify their anti-democratic antics. Not that any of them had bothered to vote in any of the recent elections. Seeing such a display of mindless patriotism made him think this day was gonna drag on forever. After a three-hour drive from Dallas to the place, he just wanted to find his girlfriend and get through this torment as fast as possible. He finally spotted her chatting with a hulking Southern dude, older than both of them, with that corn-fed hick boy look, prom king, varsity team… the whole package. He wouldn’t have given a damn if it weren't for the way she was talking to him—too damn cozy for his liking.

“Hum-hum.” He said, positioning himself next to them.

“Alexander, you made it!”

“How could I turn down your invite, even if it means hours of driving to such a… picturesque event? However, I had the impression that it would be a family event.

“May seem strange to you, city boy, but in towns like ours, community is important; everyone knows each other and has helped one another at some point, so we take every chance to be grateful to each other and to the country.”

Said the muscular blonde man who was with her, wearing a sweatshirt with the American flag on it.

“Alexander, let me introduce you; this is John Paul Sanders; he’s been my brother’s buddy for life, from school all the way to college. Now he handles the accounting for a bunch of businesses in Bushfield, including my father’s.

“So you’re the guy who finally won our Abby's heart? You’re gonna run into some pretty jealous dudes, she’s quite the heartbreaker.” The man said, extending his hand to Alexander, who, wanting to avoid looking arrogant, shook it only to feel his fingers crushed by the giant's hand.

“Guess you must be one of them.” He commented venomously while trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes.

“Oh no, quite the opposite. Abby and I are cousins by marriage; my wife Susie is the daughter of Trav’s sister, Abby’s dad. Speaking of which, I gotta run, Abilene; Huck is being a handful; the little demon broke your aunt’s favorite vase yesterday. We’ll catch up later,” he said, kissing her cheek before leaving without even glancing at Alexander.

“Interesting type; I imagine there’ll be more. And as much as he says he isn’t, I thought he seemed pretty interested in you.” He remarked as they made their way to the huge backyard.

“Babe, my house was practically a hangout for the football team; my brother’s friends basically lived there; JP and the others are like older brothers to me, and they all still see me as Tommy’s little sister; it’s natural for them to be jealous. Plus, he’s head over heels for Susie, who’s my best friend. Don’t worry about nonexistent stuff.” She said, caressing his arm.

“My dad’s probably in the back grilling, and my brother… oh, look, there he is.” Abby smiled at another blonde man emerging from a covered area full of tables where the crowd would likely feast later. Sporting a muscular, defined physique, with a five o'clock shadow and that dangerous but cute country boy vibe that certainly caught the eyes of many women, he quickly sparked disdain in Alexander. Did these types multiply by binary fission? The feeling of animosity seemed mutual, as the man’s smile vanished the moment he saw who his sister was with.

“Hey, Abbey Road! Looks like the big city hasn’t changed you one bit; I was afraid I’d find you with blue hair, unshaved armpits, and covered in piercings, with some feminist nonsense tattooed on you.” He said, hugging his sister without giving Alexander a single glance, who was taken aback by the nickname her brother used for Abby, as he imagined that a hick ogre like that would reference crap country music about driving tractors and screwing horses while drinking beer or whatever. Only to then be hit with a mix of disgust and rage at the guy's macho comments.

“Shut up, Tommy, you jerk!” Abby shot back, smiling, without really correcting her brother’s remark, then pulled Alexander by the hand and introduced him. “This is Alexander, my boyfriend.”

“Whats up, bro?” Tommy said, extending his hand to Alexander, who, reluctantly after the last experience, reciprocated the gesture only to feel his delicate hand crushed again as the giant flashed him a wicked smile before turning back to his sister.

“Can I ask what you’re wearing? Dad’s gonna flip if he sees you without a flag on; tradition is tradition, Abilene; I thought you knew that, but maybe the big city got to your head.” He said, glancing at Alexander, as if he knew exactly who to blame for that, before continuing. “I’ll call Angie to get you something from her place.” He turned and called a beautifull and very pregnant Latina woman who came smiling toward them.

“Abby! So good to see you! And you must be Alex; she’s been talking so much about you!”

“Alexander, my name is Alexander.” He replied, annoyed, since he hated any kind of nickname.

“Sorry, Abby called you that and I…”

“It’s all good, Angela, mi amor; why don’t you take Abby over to my place to change and let me and my brother-in-law get to know each other better?” Tommy interrupted, putting himself between his sister and Alexander, wrapping his giant arm around the smaller, skinnier man’s shoulders.

“Sure, I think if you guys chat, you’ll become great friends.” Abby said with a smile.

“I’m sure of it, Abbey Road; now hurry up.” Her brother replied, smiling, while his arm’s strength almost crushed Alexander. As soon as Abby and Angie left, Tommy finally released Alexander, looking at him with cold eyes.

“Speak to my wife like that again, and you’ll wish you’d never set foot in Texas… Xander.” He said threateningly.

“Believe me, that wish already exists… Thomas.”

“The name’s Tommy; I’m not some Thomas.”

“How curious, using the diminutive as a proper name.”

“I guarantee you, nothing about me is diminutive.” Tommy replied, flexing his muscular arm. “And you know what curiosity did to the cat, right?”

Ignoring the threat, Alexander continued.

“I just find the choice strange; your parents should’ve done the opposite and left Abby’s name in the diminutive. Where the hell did they come up with Abilene?”

“It was the name of my dad’s mom, so you better watch your mouth, kid. Actually, I think it’s about time you and my dad had a chat; come with me, city boy.” And he turned toward where he had come from. Not knowing what else to do, Alexander followed him.

“You know, Abby’s always had a weird taste in guys; all the guys on the football team from my time and hers would’ve done anything to date her, but she always preferred… well… people like you.”

The audacity of that hick!

“As far as I know, I’m her first boyfriend.”

“Yeah, exactly.” The other man replied with a mocking grin before pointing to a huge, gray-haired man working the grill, wearing only shorts and an apron with the ever-present American flag.

“Dad’s over there; good luck with that, city boy; you’re gonna need it.”

Tommy said, widening his grin and walking away, leaving Alexander to head over to his father-in-law by himself. Travis Johnson, a self-made man in the construction business, started as a laborer before opening his own company, a pillar of the Bushfield community, Abby’s dad, and apparently not too pleased with the figure approaching him, though he forced a stiff smile for the sake of his daughter when he saw Alexander coming.

“Good morning, son; you must be Alex; Abby’s been talking a lot about you.” He said, taking a long swig of beer.

“Same about you, Travis.” Alexander replied, not correcting his father-in-law on the nickname; he knew he was dealing with a man who wouldn’t take kindly to being corrected.

“Mr. Johnson, son; call me Mr. Johnson; calling me by my first name is an acquired privilege.” The man replied.

“Of course, Mr. Johnson; then I ask that you call me by my correct name; I’m Alexander, not Alex.” Since the old man was gonna act that way, he saw no reason to try to please him anymore; it seemed any chance for a good relationship with his girlfriend’s family was shot, and he wondered once more why he was such an idiot to come to this place.

“Of course, Alexander. We have a lot to talk about, but before that, you want a beer? The meat should take a while, and by tradition, women and kids eat first around here.”

“Thanks, Mr. Johnson, but I’ll pass; I don’t drink anything alcoholic, and my diet is vegetarian.”

“Vegetarian? I see… But the beer is all craft, made right here; The Dubois Widow brews it on the family farm.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on that too, sir.” He said, thinking about contamination and the filth of the pigsty where the old lady probably brewed that horse piss.

“Fine, and I fear we’ll have to move on to more serious matters without anything to grease the wheels.” The father-in-law replied with a voice that was undeniably hostile.

…..

Watching the altercation from a distance was Tommy, sitting at a table with Diego Ramirez, his best friend, snickering at Alexander's pained expression.

“The kid’s shitting himself.”

“Poor city boy. Tommy, that boy wasn’t made for this; I don’t know what got into Abby’s head bringing a city slicker here.”

“Abilene’s always had strange tastes.”

“Hey, asshole, do I need to remind you I was her date to the prom?”

“Only because you were one of my best friends and she knew all her friends would be jealous seeing her with the most eligible bachelor in town.”

“Only because you and our other golden boy, JP, were off at college.”

“Still, it was that night that you and Betty hit it off, and Austin was born; you should thank me for making you take Abby to the prom.”

“Abby herself didn’t seem that grateful; thank God she went to college right after. Which makes me think, a pretty woman like your sister dating for the first time only in her junior year of college is a bit strange.”

“I told you, Abby’s always had strange tastes, as you can see.”

“Dude, your dad’s about to grill the yankee for the barbecue.”

“Would be a better use for him, but the kid’s so skinny he wouldn’t even make a decent serving.” They both burst into laughter, stopping only when a small, dark-haired boy about three years old came running toward them.

“Hey, big boy, come give your uncle Tommy a hug.”

“Austin, come here! Let me see that arm! One more minute and you’ll be bigger than me!”

“I can’t wait to put the kid in pop warner, but there are still two years to go; at least now he has Huck to play with, and Angela’s about to pop with the twins. You’re in for some rough nights, bro; if one’s already a handful, imagine two boys, especially if they inherit my sister’s temperament.”

“Don’t even get me started; if I didn’t love that woman so much… but that’s the burden of a man: providing for the family and understanding when the wife is going through tough times before she gets back to running the household. Speaking of which, how’s Betty’s situation with her mom? The Dubois widow is a tough nut to crack.”

“Imagine being her son-in-law, man. She won’t hear of selling the ranch, but since my father-in-law passed, things have been rough; the cattle and horses need care and Charlene’s not cut out for it, especially with the brewery to run, and Betty’s got our house and Austin… I try to lend a hand, but working as your dad’s foreman, it’s no cakewalk.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve found a way to help.”

“You have the bussiness to help manage, a coaching gig at the school, and a pregnant wife with twins, Tommy; a wife who, by the way, is my sister and would kill me if I overloaded you with my problems.”

“Angela knows you’re like a brother to me, especially after we lost Mateo.”

“I know, bro, but think about it; she’s pregnant with twins, two boys; imagine the tension in her head remembering seeing me and him running around the house or playing ball with you and the guys and thinking that suddenly one of them could be taken from her?”

“That’s not gonna happen, Diego; but you know, I think the conversation got way too heavy for a day of festivities. Austin, your uncle Tommy needs a favor; go find uncle Hunter, uncle J.P and Huck for me.” He said, setting the little guy down before looking at his dad.

“Let’s have some fun.”

….

“What I want to say is exactly what I asked: what are your intentions with my daughter? Abilene may be in New York now, but she’s a country girl, wants to be a vet, and you, with all due respect, kid, you don’t belong here.”

“With all due respect, sir, I think it’s way too early for us to be talking about that, but when and if the time comes, we’ll figure it out.” Figure out way to stay far away from here, he thought without saying it out loud.

“You’re not getting it, kid; maybe in the big city things are different, but here we do things the right way. You came to my house with my daughter claiming to be her boyfriend without asking for my permission first, and you have the gall to say you have no plans for a future with her? No marriage or kids…”

“Oh, as for that, you can rest easy; I don’t plan on having kids.”

“Kid, what do you think you’re doing here? What were you expecting to get?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same… wow.”

He started to respond before being knocked over onto a table by two three-year-olds, with a good amount of cold sauce spilling onto his clothes and hair.

“Little brats! And you ask me why I don’t want to have kids… if I catch those little pests…” Alexander said angrily, getting back up.

“What’s going on here?” asked the biggest cop Alexander had ever seen, a gigantic black man about the same age as his brother-in-law. “Any trouble here, Travis?” He continued, his face serious, though with traces of a teasing grin on his full lips.

“Nope, not at all, Hunter. The kid just lost his cool a bit, that’s all.”

“I think so.”

“Sorry, officer.”

“We respect the kids in this town, kid, and you were talking about my godson and Travis's great-nephew, and the other one is Travis's son’s nephew.”

Alexander looked to the side and saw one of the brats on the lap of the blond ogre who was apparently married to Abby's cousin, and was staring at him menacingly.

“Let it go, Hunter; the kid just lost his head. Speaking of Tommy, where is he?”

“I saw him just a bit ago with Diego at a table a little further up, Travis.”

“If you could take the boy over there, he’s gonna need to clean up and change clothes.”

“Sure, come with me, boy.” The giant said, grabbing Alexander by the arm and dragging him like he was one of the kids.

“Be careful with that mouth of yours, boy; J.P. is a cool guy, but Diego is hotheaded and also the dad of the other of those boys you recklessly threatened.”

Alexander, dazed by the events and indignant about how he was being treated, but also fearing for his own safety, said nothing, allowing himself to be led by in diection of another giant, this one a Latino of the same age as the others. What the hell was in the water in this damn town that created monsters like that? He had no doubt that one day those little brats who knocked him over would grow up to be just as big as their progenitors.

“Hey, Diego, bro. Where’s Tommy? Abby’s boyfriend is looking for him.”

At that moment, the other man was chugging a beer from a pint that looked more like a jug that even one of his giant mitts couldn’t hold on to alone. He finished taking a huge gulp and passed the jug to the side before grabbing his own cup, letting out a loud burp, and bursting into laughter. How could Abby stand living with those kinds of people?

“Oops.” He said, wiping his mouth with his hands. “Tommy went to meet Angie and Abby to find out what’s taking them so long. If you want, I can walk you over there, man.”

“No, thanks; I think I’ll find my way on my own.” Alexander replied, making a disgusted face, finally breaking free from the cop and heading toward the front of the community center before anyone could stop him. He walked quickly, determined to find Abby and tell her he was leaving that place right then and there, and after that, they’d deal with it when she got back to New York for their senior year.

He only stopped walking when he saw his brother-in-law strutting down the street like he owned it, with an air of superiority and arrogance that, if Alexander had the slightest bit of self-awareness, he would’ve recognized as the same vibe he himself typically radiated when not caught in such an embarrassing situation.

“Hey, bro. The guys told me you were looking for me; looks like you’re in need of a little help.”

“I just want to find Abby.”

“Sure, she’s at my place with Angie; let’s head over there, clean up a bit, and I’ll lend you some clothes.”

“I can grab a clean outfit from my car.”

“Nonsense; I must have some clothes from when I was younger that should fit you; that way, we avoid ruining any more of your expensive threads if another accident happens.”

Not wanting to admit he was planning to bail on this place as soon as possible, Alexander opted to follow his brother-in-law to his house. Arriving at the place, a big and cozy house, Tommy asked Alexander to strip down to his underwear.

“Angie will kill me if I mess up her floor, man. Women, you know how they are, especially with pregnancy hormones…Wait here while I grab the clothes, and then you can take a shower.”

“Where’s Abby?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention; she and Angie went to the house next door; Sara, Hunter’s wife, who you met a bit ago, is about to pop; she’s a couple of months ahead of Angie and couldn’t make it to the party today. But I assure you, Abby will be back soon.” He said, handing Alexander a towel. “Dry off with this while I get the clothes; once you’re clean, you can sit in one of the chairs.”

Alexander did as he was told and, feeling surreal, sat there in his underwear while waiting for his brother-in-law to return. After a few minutes, Tommy came back with a change of clothes, which he placed on the coffee table while heading for the kitchen.

“Take a look and tell me what you think.” He said while heading toward the kitchen and coming back with two cups of beer. “So, what do you think?”

“There’s no way I can wear this, man; it’s way too big for me, and I don’t wear tank tops.” Alexander said, holding up a tank that looked more like a sheet, along with a pair of shorts that would easily fit two of his legs in one of the leg holes.

“Why don’t you take a sip of beer, Xander?”

“I already told you my name…”

“We don’t poison our drinks; feel free to drink.” Tommy cut in, then took a sip from the cup he prepared for Alexander before bursting into laughter at seeing his brother-in-law automatically lift the cup to his lips and take a swig for the first time in years. The beer was cold and tasted just like he remembered from the few times he’d had it before.

“Good on ya, Xander. Isn’t it way better this way, acting respectful toward your hosts?”

Alexander was shocked at himself; why the hell did he do that?

“What… what?”

“Hush, boy. You’re about to listen; oh, how I love this part! You have no idea where you’ve gotten yourself into, city boy. You know, I made a promise to my mom a little before she passed; I’d do everything to protect Abby, and I’ve kept that promise ever since in ways you couldn’t even imagine. The things I’ve had to do…But why don’t you let me show you?” Tommy said, and suddenly Alexander found himself in another place, walking alongside Tommy wearing clothes he’d never be caught dead in: ragged shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops, pretty much the same thing Tommy was wearing. Up ahead, walking down the same alley they’d just taken to get to Tommy’s house, was a younger version of himself, all sweaty, shirtless, in shorts and running shoes.

“That’s me on summer break before my senior year in college in Knoxville; I got in on a football scholarship, but I didn’t qualify for the NFL mainly because of what happened a few months before this day you’re seeing. My best friend from school, Mateo, had just died in an accident, and that hit me hard. I couldn’t accept the injustice of the world; first, my mom’s illness, then a stupid accident; it felt like life was just out to punish me. But on that same day, life handed me an unimaginable gift.” He spoke as they approached the backyard of the same house they had just been at. Sitting out front on a bench was a figure that stood out from the rest of the place. An effeminate kid with long blonde hair wearing a feminine outfit—maybe a trans woman? Alexander tried to formulate a question only to realize he was completely unable to speak.

“Hmmm…”

“Let me handle this, Xander. That’s Dylan, one of those weird kids who don’t really know what they are; a rarity around here; you won’t find any of them in town today. I didn’t dislike him; he was polite and considerate, in his last year of school, and undoubtedly eager to leave a place like Bushfield behind once he graduated. Strangely, he and Abby formed a friendship even though she was three years younger than him, and if I could say anything in his favor, it’s that he treated my sister like she was his own. So understand, what you’re about to see was born from frustration and mourning; before this, I might have made a joke or two about the kid, but generally, we treated each other with a modicum of respect. But seeing him there, a dude who refused to be what nature intended, someone who was giving up his masculinity while Mateo, a real man, a warrior, my brother, had left this world, that awakened something in me—an incandescent rage. But not just that; look.”

“What are you doing standing there, fag? We don’t want someone like you dirtying our home and our image.” The younger Tommy said.

“Tommy, come on, that’s not how you…”

“Shut up, you little shit, you fake woman; how can it be that God takes the men and leaves something broken like you…”

“Tommy, that’s enough; you’re not gonna talk to me like that; I get that losing Mateo hit you hard…”

“Don’t you dare say his name with that filthy mouth, you queer… I wish you were like him so I could beat you up and not feel like I’m hitting a woman.”

And then it happened; for a moment, it seemed like Dylan was going to burst into tears, and then, in the blink of an eye, where he had been, was now an older man just past twenty, clearly of Latin descent, with well-defined muscles, a bit dazed for a moment.

“Mateo?” the younger Tommy asked.

“Hey, I miss him too, bro, but you’re talking to the other twin.” He said with a smile. Then the illusion shattered, and Alexander found himself back in Tommy’s living room, unable to move or speak, just thinking about the impossible thing he’d just witnessed.

“And that’s how Diego came into my life; what a surprise it was to find out that to the rest of the world, he’d always been Mateo’s identical twin, and any mention of Dylan raised eyebrows and brought laughter; there’d never been one of those in Bushfield. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what happened, without getting any answers. It wasn’t until over a year later, when I was back in town working as an assistant coach at the high school, that the situation recurred. Abby was starting her junior year and got involved with a troubled kid; Hugo Lafévre had transferred from New Orleans and was the worst kind of troublemaker; he organized protests and rallies against everything I’d been taught to value; he was pro-abortion, anti-gun, and railed against what he calls police violence. He had zero respect for authority figures. I had to do something.”

Again, Alexander found himself in a scene against his will. This time, he was wearing a coach’s uniform, just like Tommy was now, as well as a younger version of he, talking to a young black kid who looked at him with a mocking gaze.

“I have no idea what my sister sees in you; you’re insubordinate and disrespectful.”

“You’re just scared of losing control; for people like you, it’s all about control.”

“Without control, our society falls apart.”

“And what’s the problem with that? It’s about time to dismantle the society you’ve built.”

“Then I think it’s about time you man up, kid.”

“We have very different definitions of what it means to be a man… coach.” The kid replied before breaking into laughter, not realizing the fury building in the older man, who seemed ready to pounce on him, but amid the laughter, the boy seemed to get scared, and puff; suddenly, the giant black man Alexander had met earlier stood before the two, resuming the laughter and speaking.

“… that’s style and lets my abs breathe, and you’re really gonna say anything against a cop, bro? Especially when you need my help to train these little troublemakers; I would’ve been a professional edge rusher if I hadn’t chosen to be a cop.”

“In your dreams, bro…” the younger Tommy replied, still dazed before the image dissolved again.

“It was the transformation of that little shit Hugo into my bro Hunter that made me realize what happened to Dylan wasn’t just a coincidence; I decided I was gonna explore these skills of mine. Slowly, I started hunting down the worst types in town, the punks, the deviants, and the insurgents, and turned them, one by one, into productive members of society. Abby, for her part, finished high school without getting involved with any other undesirable types. But then came her time to go to college; she could’ve gone to Austin or Knoxville, but no, she had to go to the Ivy League, Columbia! What a dumb idea, but my dad agreed, and I wouldn’t dare challenge him. Everything went well for a while, until her first summer break. She showed up here with some older, fat, scruffy dude, who smelled like weed, a wannabe poet who wanted people to call him Sartre; I didn’t even bother to find out his real name; it didn’t matter.

A new vision, quicker than the last. He and Tommy, dressed in Levi's jeans, flannel shirts, and cowboy boots, watched a Tommy dressed exactly like them, who in turn was watching the man Tommy had described, clearly high, turning into the well-groomed blonde guy Alexander met that morning.

“And that’s how J.P. came to be, John Paul, get it? Bet you thought I was some dumb redneck, didn’t you? By then, I didn’t even need to think much to get what I wanted, and I always made sure to keep Abby’s boyfriends close to me because my sister has a knack for finding the most annoying types who end up becoming my best projects. Now you… with you, she outdid herself… with you, I’m gonna have a blast.” He said with a sinister grin on his face. “You can speak now; the last words of a dying man, or did the cat get your tongue?”

For a moment, it really seemed like Alexander was going to say something, but what came out of his mouth wasn’t words; a slimy piece of flesh he couldn’t tell if it was his tongue or something else pushed its way through his lips, prying his teeth apart in an unnatural way and slithering across his face like a giant worm. Soon after, he felt his abdomen contracting with insane intensity, while his face contorted and his skin burned and bubbled in a transformation much slower and more painful than those he had witnessed; not that he had time to think about that amidst all the agony. As the environment around him seemed to darken, only illuminated by the source of heat he had become. Then the pain in his abdomen became unbearable, and while he squeezed it, desperately seeking some relief, it felt like his hands were sinking and merging into the muscular fabric that had just moments ago seemed so solid. But it wasn’t just his abdomen; his arms and legs grew and bulged as he threw himself forward, trying to puke, only to feel his mouth stretch unnaturally wide, while his expanded body was drenched in sweat that seemed to evaporate instantly, only to be replaced by another torrent. Just like the pain began, it stopped, only to start again within his head; it felt like his brain was melting, thoughts, ideas, his very identity turning to mush. He didn’t even notice he now had well-defined abs and toned arms and legs or that his hair had gone from red to a dark brown almost black, while it was drenched in sweat. His physique was nowhere near the monstrosity that was Tommy and his minions. But that was about to change; as his mind emptied of any memory or sense of reality and he threw himself back, leaning against the chair, his arms grew to monstrous proportions, his abdomen became a brick wall, and his chest swelled, while a beard sprouted on him, and finally his thighs ballooned like cords of pure steel, and his calves achieved the angular form of someone used to pushing them through strenuous workouts, while his feet grew absurdly large, emitting a powerful funk that could only be rivaled by that coming from his armpits.

“Almost there, Zander, bro, almost there.”

Upon hearing that name, his head exploded with images, color, and sound, with memory after memory flooding into his mind in such rapid succession that if any trace of Alexander had remained, it would have been instantly suppressed. Then, much faster and more painlessly than when it began, it ended. Throwing himself back, the brute that had replaced Alexander was panting, grinning stupidly, staring blankly at nothing.

“Zander, man, you good? Why don’t you take a sip of beer to cool off?” Tommy asked with a seemingly concerned tone as the light returned to the environment, and the brute in front of him seemed to shrink a bit in size while the sweat that was pouring down his body became just a sheen on his bronzed skin, as he automatically lifted the cup of beer to his lips.

“Ahhhh, I really needed that, Tommy, bro. That was a rough night.” The man said with a grin.

“I can imagine from the screams of the chick you had in my guest room. And from your smell, you reek, bro.”

“Hey, the ranch was way out, and you know how my mom is. Plus, you gave me the key to your house and told me I could use it in case of emergency. Damn, I really stink.” He said, scratching his balls over the old, worn-out underwear he was wearing, lifting his hands to his nose and sniffing them before bursting out laughing.

“Man, an emergency isn’t banging every skank in town in my guest room; you’re lucky my dad didn’t say anything.”

“Uncle Trav doesn’t care about that.”

“Usually not, but it’s not a good idea to do that when his daughter’s at home.”

“Abby’s here? Fuck!”

“As if she didn’t know your habits, man. But I’d be more worried about the fact that you were supposed to be helping my dad with the barbecue and that your mom had to deliver the beer herself; if it weren’t for me and Diego helping out, I’m sure she would’ve stormed the house and dragged you out by your hair.”

“Damn, Zander Dubois, you’re a complete idiot! Man, I need a shower and some borrowed clothes!”

“And what do you think this is on the table, you moron? Don’t worry; we’re the same size.”

“And I didn’t know that? We’ve been borrowing each other’s clothes forever. So who’s the moron, college boy?”

“Get your ass in the shower already, you asshole; I’ll be waiting with a cold beer.”

Zander took a quick shower, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to wash away all the stink from the night before, but he didn’t care as much about that as he did about disappointing Travis; the man had been like a second father to him after his own dad died and helped him with the ranch’s organization while J.P. kept the bills in check. He’d never been the smartest guy, though he knew how to take care of the cattle and the horses, and had his mom’s talent as a brewer. Besides he was one hell of a hunk, of course, he thought while admiring the muscles earned from years of ranch work and playing football in school, the dream of becoming pro ruined by his father’s untimely death and the need to take on his responsibilities, not that he thought he’d have much chance of keeping a decent GPA. But that was all in the past; he had a good life, although his mom bugged him to marry and give her grandkids like Betty had already done, especially since he was the last single guy in his friends group. Worse of all he felt that call every time he played with Austin, the kid would be a hell of a player one day, maybe good enough to achieve what his uncle and dad couldn’t.

“Damn, you are a damn stud, Zander Dubois!” He gratified himself, admiring his muscles in the bathroom mirror before putting on the shorts Tommy had lent him.

“Thanks, bro!” He said walking in the living room and grabbing the cold beer cup Tommy offered him, taking a long sip, wiping his mouth with his hand, and letting out a small burp.

“Hey, Abbey Road!” Tommy waved to someone behind him, making him turn around startled. Only to find no one there.

“Asshole!” He said, punching his friend’s arm.

“You should’ve seen your face, bro!” Tommy replied, cracking up, with Zander joining in.

“That was a good one, bro.”

“Put on the shirt and let’s roll; my dad’s waiting!”

…..

“Sorry for the wait, Uncle Trav; I wasn’t feeling well.” Zander said, taking off his shirt and putting on an apron, if Travis Johnson was throwing a barbecue like this, he wouldn’t be the one to break tradition.

“How odd; you seemed pretty lively last night, Zander.” Travis said with a mischievous grin.

“I’m sorry about that; if I’d known Abby was home, I wouldn’t have done what I did.”

“Don’t worry about me, but I gotta say that ain’t gonna win you any points with her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I ain't born yesterday, kid! I see the way you look at her, and all your buddies are already hitched while you’re still bouncing from bar to bar, hooking up with the first girl who crosses your path just to avoid any commitment.”

“I... I…”

“No need to say anything, son; I’d be more than happy to have you as a son-in-law; I’ve watched you grow up and I know what kind of man you are. But I gotta warn you, something tells me Abby's gonna show up here with some slick city boy who thinks he’s hot stuff just ‘cause he came from the big city.”

“Uncle Trav, it’s almost time for her to finish college and she’s gonna be a vet; there’s no better place for her to work than here, have some faith!”

“I have faith, my boy, but a father’s heart doesn’t lie.”

“In that case, you can count on me and the guys to knock some sense into any city punk who shows up around here.”

“I know that, son. Now enough chit-chat; we’ve got plenty of mouths to feed, let’s get to work!”

In the afternoon, when everyone was well-fed and the booze buzz had taken over a good chunk of the minds present, Zander found himself in the spacious field next to the center, watching kids of all ages play while keeping an eye on Austin and Houston the twelve years old son of his older sister who lived with her husband in Fort Worth so his sisters and brothers-in-law could dance a bit in the hall. And when the not so little guy scored a touchdown in the middle of the fun and ran to hug him, he couldn’t help but feel emotional.

“It’s about time you had your own.” He turned and came face to face with Diego, who was waving and smiling as he watched his own son run over to Huck and J.P., who at that moment was teaching his kid how to hold the ball properly.

“You have no idea what that feels like!”

“Was it my mom or Betty who told you to say that?” He asked, even though he felt a longing inside to be part of that world, to have a little version of himself running around, taking care of the horses, tossing the pigskin in a packed stadium on a Friday night.

“Both!” Diego replied, laughing. “But the boys care about you too, man; what are you waiting for?” He asked as Zander watched Abby play with one of her cousins’ daughters.

“Sometimes we get so focused on something that we forget to see the bigger picture, bro!” Diego continued, turning Zander towards the dance floor full of young women, some sneaking glances his way. “A guy like you ain’t gonna have any trouble finding the right woman; I’ll keep an eye on Austin and Houston; you take advantage.”

….

After dancing with several of the single ladies at the party, Zander sat down to catch his breath while watching the ebb and flow of people, lowering his glasses and checking out a very interesting girl that passed by. Until a whistle startled him.

“Zander Dubois, was that you hitting on Caroline Matthews, a girl from a good family?” Someone said, placing a beer cup on his table.

“What??? Haha, hey Hunter, bro! I'm glad your shift is finally over. And unfortunally, the time to settle down comes for everyone. I want my kids to grow up alongside yours and the other guys’, having the same life I had.”

"So our lone wolf has finally decided to join the pack, thinking about adding a Dallas or a Knox to your mother's list, bro?" Commented Tommy approaching while bringing out snacks and dips and placing them on the table. "The rest of the guys are coming, they're just going to drop the boys off with their moms. We're going to have some boys time. Caroline Matthews then? She's hot, man. But I admit I had hopes between you and Abby."

"Me too, but it's like I said, you and Hunter are going to be parents soon, Huck and Austin are already growing up, I want my kids to grow up with them. And Abby..."

“I get it, man. I just worry about her; she’s always had a strange taste in guys.”

“Your dad mentioned he’s worried she might show up with some stuck-up city slicker.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That if some snobby city boy shows up here with Abby, you, me and the guys would take care of him, country man style.” Zander replied emphatically.

“Thanks, man. I know I can always count on you!”

“Dude, we’re family. And one day, Abby’s gonna find a guy who’s just right for her; I’m sure of it.”

“I believe that too, bro. And it’s gonna be someone just like you and me!” Tommy replied with bright smile.

[izzabela]

I have a request, can you write a different scenario for the Lin Kuei trio x female reader where each of the brothers goes on a mission and part of their mission is to get close to another female person/outworlder to gain information and the reader stumbles upon it mistaking it as cheating and runs off heartbroken and each of the brothers tries to find the reader to explain to them what really happened?

That was a mouth full, sorry 😅

It's Not What You Think! - Lin Kuei Siblings x fem!reader (scenario fic)

in which you stumble upon each brother in a... sleazy scene, and you're left at a loss for words

a/n: OH THIS WILL BE FUN, i adore funny plots, so this is no different than my other fic

ship[s]: bi han, kuai liang, tomas x fem!reader (scenario fic), jenshi mention

warning(s): suggestive ending(s)? no "y/n" bullshiyet, anti-betrayal, post-story mode, johnshi mention

Bi Han

Bi Han was furious, to say the least.

Though it had been almost two years since the events of the timeline's intersection, both Shang Tsung and Quan Chi were still at large. They both fled to different areas all across the realms, and at one point, Shang Tsung had appeared in Earthrealm for a bit to try and thieve Sento from one of the champions that defended Earthrealm.

Liu Kang, distressed with this revelation, left for Outworld to speak with Empress Mileena personally, pleading with her to have one of his own people find Shang Tsung in a secret mission. Of course, Mileena agreed (with the promise it wasn't another secret espionage), and the Fire God immediately called upon Bi Han for this task.

While he was known to take a decent amount of time on missions, it was for the sake of meticulousness and being thorough. His tactical brilliance allowed his missions to end more cleanly, making sure no loose ends were out to bite him in the neck later, so Liu Kang knew he would be ready for anything.

Fuck. That.

His wealth of knowledge in stealth, skills in death, and the art of killing were minuscule against the situation he found himself in. Shang Tsung's trail led to the red light district of Sun Do, and he was in the middle of the grimy, sleazy streets where the lowest of both men and women worked for keeps. It sickened him that he would need to get intertwined with such people in order to learn more about the villain who had burdened him with more stress, but he had no choice.

He knew you would understand, as you saw how fierce he was for you and your safety. After all, you two had been dating for one whole year, your bond was too strong to be broken. He did his best to make you happy, keep you happy, and by his side- this would be no different. He let out an annoyed gruff, adjusting himself to make sure his arms were out, and his already low-cut attire was able to show more. He loosened his bun and walked into this newfound battlefield, hoping his ice would quell the horrendous fire of disgust that burned in him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although you were a mortal, you had many connections to the semi-immortal people of Edenia, many of them being royalty or figures related. Some names include: First Constable Li Mei, Supreme Commander Kitana, and the Matron Superior Tanya.

You remembered the first time you met them, all of them stumbling out the portal and onto the gravel of Wu Shi Academy. Unable to move them, you advised all the available healers and medics to set up camp right where they fell. Your talent in hydromancy was one thing, but your healing capabilities were another level of amazing. You were healing more people than most of the monks, and that gave you time to build rapport with these new faces.

That was two years ago, and now here you four were, in the busy streets of Sun Do, eating at a restaurant while talking about your lives.

Unbeknownst to Bi Han, you were drinking and enjoying the cheery atmosphere of the city, all four of you clearly having a blast to be away from the crushing responsibilities of life. However, your joy was short-lived when, past some restaurant-goers heads, you saw a familiar head of black hair, although his bun was loosely tied up and more of his hair fell over his face.

"Bi... Han?" You called out, abruptly standing up and following the familiar figure.

The man you have been dating for a year was in Sun Do, but not for leisure. You knew him a man rare with days off, so this was unexpected.

Li Mei and Tanya's head snap up, their vigilant eyes scanning the area, but you saw where he was headed. You decided to follow your instincts, and left the women clamoring your name as you pushed and shoved your way to where you saw him.

"Wait!" Kitana exclaimed, "Do not be so hasty, you do not have the means to defend yourself!"

Their worries and cries were drowned by the adrenaline building in your veins, and you turned the corner to quietly follow your dearest lover. Yes, you were a healer, but you were trained by Liu Kang as well, so you had some means to fight back. For this case, you decided to ensue a defensive position, watching him quietly.

You hid behind lazily stacked boxes, barrels, and the crowd that filled the street. Finally, the street cleared up, and you saw the most horrifying scene yet.

An escort in skimpy clothing, and her breasts practically about to fall out, was all over your lover. She lazily dragged her fingers across his chest and down close to his crotch, but it draws back to his black-silver mask. His eyes are hardened while she teases him amusingly.

"Everything comes at a price, cryomancer~" she draws out the "r" seductively, "If you so badly need it, monetary gains must be met."

Your breath hitched, and burning tears welled your eyes as anger began to affect your mastery of water. Your eyes began to burn, and blinking didn't help. You wipe them and rise from your hiding spot, but make a loud scene to reveal yourself. Both Bi Han and the escort lock eyes with you, and your tears began to leave your eyes. If Bi Han squinted hard enough, he could see vapors rise from where your tear stains were, your anger acting as a stove and reacting with your tears.

"Oh, how curious..." she drew out, "A lover, perhaps?" Her head rested on his chest and nuzzled into it.

Your heart shattered when Bi Han threw his arm over her shoulders, his other hand under her chin and turning her head away from you.

"A woman like her could not match my own status," and she smiles evilly at the response, taking his arm and leading him into one of the businesses that the escort worked.

Your cries echoed in the street, and you felt the warm arms of your friends pick you up from the dirty road. Your head immediately burrowed into the nearest shoulder, that being Tanya, who takes you into her arms and hugs you tightly. Li Mei glances at the opening in the wall, the "door" being a cheap beads and fabrics. She wanted to go after the Earthrealmer, but she'd have to leave a bookmark in this case.

"I don't want to be here anymore... but I do not wish to go home," you whisper hoarsely.

The women look amongst themselves and decide to take you to the palace, where Kitana explained to her sister and she graciously let you stay for as long as you need. While Li Mei could not enter further, Kitana took over completely as Tanya went to be by Mileena's side. You cry into your friend's lap, "why" and "how could he" leaving your lips angrily as you feel your grip on your magic grown unstable.

"My friend..." Kitana begins softly, "I do not know why Bi Han would do such a thing... but you must know that you are stronger than you let on. You defend your friends ardently and with loyalty, which is a rare type of strength unseen in many millennia, and I know you will grow stronger than this."

You continue to sob in her lap, and Kitana makes eye contact with her sister and Tanya, who stood outside of the room. They wanted to enter, but Kitana shakes her head and gently shoos them away. Tanya sighs, closing the door gently and leans on her lover's shoulder.

"It pains me to see her in such a state," she expressed, her hands locking with Mileena's.

Mileena was hurt seeing you in agony, but it hurt her more not being able to tell you the truth. She decides not to speak, your cries and sobs doing the talking for all four of you as the night let on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bi Han beat the shit out of the escort as soon as he got the necessary information out of her. Along with her, he made sure to leave every one of these disgusting lowlifes in the wake of the Sun Do police force, so they could arrest every single one of them for prostitution and harboring dangerous illegals.

He escaped to the roofs, watching the Constables bust through the opening and taking every person in the building into police custody.

"Round them up!" Bi Han heard Li Mei's command, "No one is above imperial law."

With this, Bi Han bolts to the portal at the center of the city, practically crashing through it to get back home. He missed you dearly, wanted to explain everything, and hold you in his arms again. He wanted to apologize, rub your back as you sobbed, and kiss your lips to wipe the dirt that covered his.

Landing like a uncoordinated goose, he's flat on his back and meets the eyes of his brothers and Liu Kang. The Fire God extends a hand to him, lifting him up back to his feet.

"An... interesting entrance from our most skilled Grandmaster," he noted, "But no less welcome, my friend. I assume you found something."

He doesn't bother answering to him, though, and he simply grabs Liu Kang's collar. Kuai Liang is quick to grab his arms and hold him back, while Tomas guards Liu Kang's front.

"Did you mean to tell me she was there as well?!" he practically screams, "She was in front of me, almost compromising me!"

Tomas seems to realize what his brother was talking about, quickly filling him in on information he clearly missed, "Did she not tell you she would be in Outworld that night? She wrote about it in her letter to us!"

Bi Han digs into his memory and remembers the paper that lay on his desk. The stress that ate him alive made him forget about this date you set aside, and the words you had used to describe how excited you were to see your friends again.

"Fuck..." he cursed softly.

Kuai Liang let go of his brother before he demands Liu Kang to open the portal again. He sighs, smiling softly as he waved his hands to open a fiery gate.

"Explain to me your findings when you come back with her," he says, mentioning your name, "It has been a while since I have seen her as well."

He nods and rushes through the portal, meeting the blue sky of Edenia and the entire Umgadi force surrounding him. He looks across the steps and sees you and Tanya hugging, talking about something before you let go from the embrace.

He called your name and your head snapped to his voice. Your eyes are wide and tears are threatening to fall, but you look away and turn completely away from him. Tanya takes this into consideration and glares at Bi Han, ordering the priestesses into a protective and offensive rotation.

"Recall them, Matron Superior," Bi Han demanded, "I would like to speak with her myself."

"That is for her to decide," she hisses, "She is a friend to the crown, and any threat seen against such will be treated as so."

The priestesses are ready to attack, but you slip away from Tanya and walk to Bi Han yourself. Bi Han and the other priestesses are still, and you close the distance between your lover with eyes downcast. He removes his mask and wants to hug you, but you hold your hand up to stop him.

"Tell me..." you begin slowly, your teary eyes meeting his worried ones, "What were you doing that night? With a woman like her... saying those, awful things to me..."

Bi Han doesn't know what to do with his hands, wanting so badly to take you into his chest and tell you what he said meant nothing, it was to keep his front up, to save you and Earthrealm. But he puts his hands to his side and begins to speak.

"Liu Kang had me follow a trail, one that led to Shang Tsung. That snake was out of my grasp, shifting shape and getting away. However, I got some information on him thanks to that... whore."

You take note on how disgusted he looked, his head turning away from you as his face morphed into something indiscernible. He looked lost, disgusted, and most of all, defeated. You frown at him and take his hands in yours, and he uses this to hold you in his tight embrace.

"I did not mean a single thing that night," he said, feeling your chin wobble on his shoulder, "You were the only thing on my mind, and you still are. You consume my very being, everything I do is for the sole purpose of your happiness- nothing more or less."

You nod slowly, your hand placed on his cheek as you rubbed your thumb softly.

"Your word is my code- and just one thing uttered from your lips will silence me forever," his eyes shone with unshed tears, trying to keep up appearances in front of Tanya.

You just hug him, quietly crying in his arms as he hugged you back, his grip tightening on your waist. The weight he had on his chest finally left, and your presence was like a cleansing waterfall that washed away his sins.

You hear Tanya recall the formation, telling them to return to their posts. You didn't care what was happening though, as long as Bi Han's arms stayed around you as your tears fell.

=====================

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang sat in a booth seat along with Johnny and Kenshi, in "casual" conversation as they scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary in this tightly packed club. Music blasting, alcohol flooding his nose, and the feeling of sweaty bodies on him made him seethe with anger and disgust.

The three Earthrealm defenders were in a club in Los Angeles, your native town, and the last known location of both Quan Chi and Shang Tsung. Ever since the timeline convergence, all the realms have been busy trying to clean up the miscreants mess; for some reason, it let them to this huge club on the West Coast of the United States.

Liu Kang debriefed the men, saying that one of the Sisters of Shadow were in Earthrealm, in bars all over California to take the naive souls of men and women alike to fuel the black magic that Quan Chi practiced. In order to get close to them, and perhaps find the sorcerers once and for all, Liu Kang sent the three of them on this mission.

It pained him to be in your hometown without your knowledge, and it hurt him even more that he had to get close with another woman for the sake of Earthrealm. But that was the main reason he was here, to protect your future with him and the future of Earthrealm- in order to ensure that you two would have a home to come back to in the end. In order to carry out this mission flawlessly, he did not tell you, and that killed him inside.

You two had met just a year prior, you being plucked out of fighting in illegal fight clubs to serve Liu Kang as a future Champion. You accepted rather easily, thinking this was all a dream, but as you trained with them, you realized it was anything but.

Kuai Liang was drawn to your fighter spirit and spark for protection, not to mention your flawless beauty and grace as you fought. He saw you as an equal, and you were touched on how he didn't look at you like a failure. Of course, due to your history of betrayal and mistrust, you didn't place your love or faith in him quickly. However, with every kind word, gesture, and gift he offered you, every look of concern and worry, and his attention to you, your walls melted against his fiery love and you gave yourself to him.

How he hated to break your trust after such a life of turmoil, but he hoped you would understand. You knew of his loyalties, his fierce protection and eager to serve Earthrealm. He prayed to the elder gods every night the mission's length increased, hoping you'd understand. Tonight, it was put to the test.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat at the bar alone, your friends having gone to the dance floor with a group of guys clearly fiending for one-night release. You sighed and swirled your drink in the cup, a mini vortex forming.

One minute, you were playing for keeps in illegal cage fights, the money barely enough for your shitty apartment in the bad side of L.A., now you were an elite fighter and Champion-to-be for a Fire God.

Crazy right?

Even crazier you found love in your master's great friend, Kuai Liang. You were already off-put on Liu Kang's kindness when he took you in, Kuai Liang made it no better. The way he took his time with training you, spending time with you, and waiting for you to trust him made your hardened heart soften. It had been a long time since someone was so patient with you, let alone accepted all of you.

So, when you recognize his iconic black bun in the crowded sea of sweaty bodies, you knew something was up. Kuai Liang was not one for the social scene, and clubbing was strictly off limits for him as a personal thing- what the hell was he doing in L.A. on a Friday night?

You decided to follow him, closing your tab and silently stalking him. From where you stood in the club, you could see where he sat. with Kenshi and Johnny in one of the booths near the dance floor. Your head followed his general path, and the sight before you made your heart stop.

Kuai Liang was letting another woman touch him, and her face was scarily close to his. She whispered something to your man, and he said something in her ear that illicit a horribly high-pitched giggle from her. You were fuming, and decided to confront them in the act.

"You bitch!" Grabbing onto her shoulder roughly, "The hell you think you're doing?!"

Kuai Liang's shocked face matched yours, but with his mission in mind, he grabbed onto the woman to protect her, not you. Was it possible a heart could break even more? Because if you thought it was broken, this completely shattered it.

"K-Kuai-," but all he does is huff and grunt at you.

"Who do you think you are?!" he shouted, people around you watched the scene unfold, "Creating a fucking scene..."

He never cursed, especially around you. He knew how to hold his tongue, and he never raised his voice at you even if he was pissed beyond the realms' saving. Your face morphed into hurt, betrayal, something Kuai Liang promised you to never do. Yet here he was, failing you.

"Silly girl," the woman hissed as she kicked your abdomen, "Leave us!"

You groaned as you picked yourself up, immediately escaping the messy scene and fleeing out of the club. Tears blurred your vision as you crashed into people on your way out, only having yourself to console the agony you were in.

Kuai watched as you left, and he swore he would make it up to you. No matter how long it took.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuai Liang was an assassin. He was trained in the meticulous art of killing people swiftly and without noise.

So when Johnny and Kenshi found him, blood all over his dress shirt and pants, the demon's mutilated body slowly dissipating, they knew not to push his buttons.

"All of the information I gathered has been written down," he said without turning to his friends, handing them some paper.

"A-alrighty then, Kuai..." Johnny said nervously, a chuckle matching his tone.

"Go back to the Temple, there is something I need to do before heading home," he said calmly as he cleaned up, "Do not wait for me, explain to Lord Liu Kang the dilemma as well."

Kenshi nodded, and the couple looked at each other before turning their gaze to the clearly pissed-off man, watching him storm out to find you. They had a feeling on what was happening, but they didn't press further as they set off for the temple. Kuai Liang was outside the club, searching recklessly to find you in the summer night. Just a couple of blocks away, he heard your distinct cries in an alleyway, and he followed them and up, your body curled up in the fire escape of an apartment building.

Quietly, he tries to get to you and be by your side, but his kunai drops from the hidden hilt in his pants, giving away his position and it scares you. Your head snaps up and you get into defensive mode, your brows furrowed in anger as you snarled at him.

"What in the elder gods' names do you want, Scorpion?"

His hands are up, but he still tries to close in on you by slowly walking to you. You're cornered, and the crying has made you too exhausted to move.

"I know what you saw was, to say the least, alarming..." he begins, "However, please allow me to explain."

More tears welled in your eyes, "I trusted you, Kuai Liang. You knew my story, I gave you my heart- I confided in your warmth!"

Kuai Liang squats to your height, arms down as he watches your tears fall.

"How could you..." you sob again, your head thrown up facing the sky.

Kuai Liang watches your tears fall, and he gently used his hands to wipe your tears. He's surprised you don't shake away from him, so he used this opportunity to explain himself to you. From Liu Kang's plan, Quan Chi's legion of deadly female demons, up to now, he explained in great detail and softness for you to register despite your wails.

"Oh darling," he begged softly, "You know my promises to you- they're written in blood. If you so wish it, I will shed it for you- if it meant see you smile once more."

You wipe your tears and ask him with shaky words, "Swear on your family, swear that what happened meant nothing to you."

His hand wraps around yours and your foreheads touch, his warm breath on yours, "I swear to the elder gods above and the honor of my late father- she is dead to me."

You smile almost evilly, "Prove it."

Safe to say, your evening ended with more cries, but not in pain this time. Still, Kuai Liang would do anything to never see you cry so sadly like that- even if it meant more blood being spilt in your name.

=====================

Tomas

Tomas, Kuai Liang, and Bi Han were in a neighboring village, just a mountain away near Fengjian, in an undercover mission that lead to Shang Tsung. Liu Kang got word from Raiden, who had visited home for a brief moment, that his people were talking about a strange man coming to and from the village for something unknown.

Not wanting to waste an opportunity, he called upon the Lin Kuei Grandmaster and his second-in-hands to try and apprehend him once more (not mimicking the Ying Fortress situation). What the brothers didn't know, though, was that the trail would lead to a small club, a front for Shang Tsung's hideout.

It was a music club, with weekly performances from many female singers and dancers from the neighboring villages in the region. Tomas, who knew you were an active and avid singer, hoped to the elder gods you weren't here to witness what he was doing.

In front of the long stage, he sat in a rounded booth seat with an "entertainer" by his side as she talked his ear off about every performance that went on. She was in a horrible costume, those Qipao costumes that the Westerners sold as costumes in cheap Halloween stores, her pale skin glowing softly under the warm light of the club. Tomas played into his role of a "traveling" foreigner, needing rest in this village and simply needing time to "destress" from his journey.

Tomas was dressed in some jeans and a gray shirt, a backpack on his other side to really sell the look. In his ear, provided by Sektor and Bi Han, was an earpiece to hear the commands of his brothers. He knew the woman next to him was connected to Shang Tsung, but all he was worried about was you.

He prayed to the elder gods that you would not worry. He prayed that you would believe in him, stay confident in him as he completed his mission, and hoped that you would forgive him when he eventually needed to tell you this entire debacle. He sighed, beginning to play his role into getting more information out of the woman.

He whispered dirty jokes, laughed quietly with her at her horrendous attempts of humor, and even held her close. While this was for the betterment of the realms, he would rather die than finish this mission. He was getting some useful information from her, and he could hear Kuai Liang and Bi Han talk to him over the earpiece, but his focus was brought away as he saw his prayers ignored.

You were here. Performing. In the middle of his mission as he was smack dab in the center of your sight. At first, he saw you smiling happily as your voice filled the room, but when your eyes met his, your will to perform left.

The Shang Tsung affiliate was all over Tomas (though you didn't know), kissing up his neck as he continued to hold her. People around you two were beginning to grow tired of the act, clamoring for you sing or begone. You tried to continue, voice slightly shaky as the lyrics left your mouth, but you were ultimately pulled backstage by the show manager. Behind the curtains, the sight broke your heart more and more.

Tomas's hand was locked in hers as she took him away, and a flirty smile was on his face as they both walked away from your direct line of sight. Too angry at what you witnessed, and growing depressed, you retired for the night and left to head back home.

Tomas was the most affectionate of his family, and you were drawn to his optimism despite the pain he had endured. Just like his brothers, he was loyal to an alarming degree, but you knew why. Having him lost his family, leaving his home country, and being put in a new place, he longed to have someone of his own.

Sure, his brothers were great, but you were the final piece to him. Your kind personality, joyful nature, and loving demeanor made him fall instantly, and you loved Tomas just as much. You were surprised to see how a man such as he, going through what he had gone through, still remained joyful and optimistic.

What he loved so much about you, though, was your talent in singing. Whether singing while cooking, bathing, or holding him, Tomas found your voice a safe haven. He vowed to always keep you happy, smiling, and most importantly, singing.

After this, though, he'd have a hard time hearing your bird song once more.

It was gone, along with your heart and the man you loved so dearly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tomas stood over the bloodied woman's limp body, hunched like a hunted taken-down animal. He called his brothers to enter the room, and they too were met with the horrendous sight.

"By the elder gods..." Kuai Liang breathed, "Tomas, what in Earthrealm-."

His pupils were dilated heavily, his grey irises overtaking his eyes. He was breathing heavily, and his grip on his karambit made his knuckles turn white. He was seething, his hunter's instinct turned on and on high alert. He shoved past his brothers, not without Bi Han stopping him.

"Foolish brother," he hissed, "Why did you kill her? Lord Liu Kang needed her alive."

He breathed calmly and turned back to his brothers, who both stilled at how calm his demeanor was speaking to him, "She is alive, brothers. Take her immediately to Lord Liu Kang, I have personal matters to tend to."

Bi Han grabs the collar of his shirt, shaking him, "We have our duties to fulfill. If you so wish to abandon your role, the Lin Kuei will hunt you- I will hunt you."

Tomas takes his brother into his knees, his blade gently pressing into the kill spot on Bi Han's neck. Kuai Liang's breath hitched while Bi Han shook his head to stop his brother.

"I will accept whatever may befall me, but I need to do this, Bi Han," and he turns his head to see his youngest brother's face.

"Please," he begged.

He nodded, sighing in relief as he bolted out of the back room. Kuai Liang scoops the woman into his hands, while Bi Han watched in awe at his brother's will. He left the back room to find you, hoping to set things right.

He searched the village for your house, and saw you crying in the balcony in the back. You were fiddling with a leaf that fell from the large tree that hovered over the balcony. To get to you, he had to climb to see you.

"Love..." you heard him say behind you. You gasp as you shuffled away from him, but he doesn't relent.

"Love, what were you doing there?" he asked gently, coming closer, but you held your hand up.

"No, Tomas," you said defiantly, "You tell me what you were doing there. With that woman all over you, with your hands on her equally as eager, with me right in front of you..."

More tears fell as you sobbed more, and Tomas's heart broke even more at the pain he put on your heart. He silently fell onto your balcony and sat with his legs crossed over themselves. He reached for your hand, and you surprisingly accept it. He gently rubbed his thumb over it, slowly explaining everything.

"So, the club I performed every couple of months, was a front for s multidimensional threat?" you asked gently, wiping your tears.

Tomas nods, his hand cupping your cheek, "My love, no one could beat you. Hearing your voice break, your eyes look at me like that..." your hand held his, "Everything about you controls me, your voice a siren's song."

You smile weakly and kiss his cheek, "Listen to me, then, as I call you to me."

You lead him into your bedroom, and your voice commands the rest of the night as you two stay entangled in one another.

=====================

guys my ipad is lagging after typing all this, long ass fic

still, i hope you enjoyed, especially you anon!

i'll see yall in the next fic!



[whumblr]

Infection

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” Zayne shot up in bed. “What are you doing, it’s the middle of the ni–”

Jay’s shallow breathing and soft pained moans continued despite the outburst, half asleep but still awake enough to feel the searing pain stabbing into his abdomen. He lay almost motionless under the covers except for the occasional harsh twitch and his torso quickly rising and falling.

Zayne’s anger evaporated; his voice softened but was still urging. “Turn over.”

Jay felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him onto his back.

Even in the dark, with barely more than some moonlight and streetlight trickling through the blinds, Zayne could see something was very wrong. Jay’s face, gleaming with sweat, was wrought into a grimace, his eyes squeezed shut, lips parted to allow fast shallow breaths.

A large hand slid over his forehead and instantly pulled back again. “Shit, you’re hot.” He wiped his hand on the covers. “And sweaty.”

He pulled the covers back and Jay mewled softly as cold air brushed over his searing skin. Even Zayne’s fingers, brusquely grasping at the hem of his shirt, felt icy in comparison. “Don’t… don’t touch me—” he muttered, cut off by a soft gasp as the cold air directly swept over his abdomen.

“Shit.” Zayne’s voice.

Jay glanced down. The cut crossing the side of his abdomen, graciously bestowed on him earlier that evening, had opened up again. The skin around it was almost as red as the pulsing core of the wound. Blood pooled in the cut, as if reluctant to seep out. And when he shifted, a drop of liquid did tip out, tickling slowly over the swelling, but the colour was murky and he couldn’t quite call it blood.

Shit… he mentally agreed, and let his head fall back onto his pillow.

The mattress shifted. Hurried footsteps circled the bed. Clattering noises came from the bathroom, cabinets opening and closing again in fast succession. Water rushed against the sink, the stream interrupted every now and then - fingers checking the temperature - before it turned off. Then a short silence. All the lights turned on – he squinted and turned his head with a protesting groan – and the mattress dipped under him again, this time on his side of the bed.

Fingers brushed over his side, but with more care. They were warmer as well, leaving little drops of water, likely to evaporate soon against his hot skin. A hand over his ribs nudged him lightly and without thinking Jay followed along, turning away and turning his side up.

Waterdrops tinkled against ceramic, a cloth being wrung out, the hand on his ribs pressed down harder and despite these warning signs, Jay was still caught by surprise when a sharp pain stabbed into the cut.

He yelped out a protest, bucked fiercely and twisted round wanting to bite Zayne’s head off like an injured dog.

“Don’t touch that!” he snarled.

“I have to,” Zayne simply said, nudging him back onto his side.

The water burned in the sensitive wound, as if the knife dipped in again. The fibres of the cloth scratched like spikes of sandpaper instead of soft cotton, scraping over the swollen skin. Jay cried a strangled note into his pillow, fingers tightening into a fist clutching his duvet.

Zayne carried on; ignoring cries of pain was something he was quite good at by now after all. But his trademark grin was nowhere to be found and his expression betrayed an utmost focus. He carefully swiped the cloth over the wound, dabbing at the blood, cleaning it the best he could. He caught the drops of water running down Jay’s back with a towel and lightly rested a hand on his hip, giving an uncharacteristic but reassuring squeeze.

All alarm bells went off in the form of liquid sloshing, the bottle of anti-septic being turned upside down against cloth, releasing a sharp scent and fresh anxiety. Jay flinched hard, but the hand now clamped on his hip was merciless and kept him firmly in place.

“This will—”

Jay shrieked, buried his face into his pillow and screamed some more as Zayne spread the stinging solution over every millimetre of the long cut.

Finally, he pulled away. The burning still lingered, but Jay’s shoulders relaxed and he resurfaced from his pillow.

“Do you think we need to use the ointment too?” Zayne asked, rummaging in the first-aid kit and holding up a tube.

“If it’s clean, it’s clean,” Jay managed in-between sharp breaths, really not looking forward to more. He was fully awake by now.

Zayne nodded, still inspecting the cut. Then a soft thunk as he dropped the tube back.

Jay lightly turned, watched as Zayne hesitated which dressing to use. “Not that one,” he breathed out. “It’ll stick to the wound.”

Another nod and Zayne carefully dressed the cut, coaxing out some more smaller moans of pain but they quickly died down.

Jay sighed in relief when the fingers brushed away and he felt Zayne sit back up. He was surprised to hear the same exhale from Zayne. They sat in silence for a bit, back to back, until Zayne said:

“Your breathing is less shallow.”

“It’s not hurting as much now.”

He heard light tapping and shifted onto his back, peeked an eye open to see Zayne reading something on his phone.

“Where are you?” Zayne suddenly asked.

“At home. In bed. With you,” Jay finished crankily.

“Okay, so you’re not confused or delusional…”

He was very confused, actually, but more because of Zayne’s genuine concern.

“Do you have muscle cramps?”

“Not more than usual.”

“Do you feel dizzy?”

“No, just tired.”

“Did you pee less than usual today?”

“What?”

“How is your—” A muttered curse and two fingers pressed against the side of his throat, just under his jaw. “Okay… I think,” he said after counting for a few seconds. He put his phone on Jay’s side table and picked something else from the first-aid kit. “Open up,” he said, nudging Jay’s chin, and forced a thermometer under his tongue. He held up a stern finger into his face. “No protesting.”

Jay still moaned an indignant tone, but kept his mouth shut. Stared straight up at the ceiling until he felt Zayne pull at the thermometer and opened up again.

“38.6…” He glanced at Jay in question.

“Quite high for me, but should be fine.”

A hand slithered to his neck and tilted him forward. Zayne pressed a glass to his lips and Jay carefully took a sip. Winced at the taste and sputtered, twisting his head.

“Drink up, you baby.”

“You caused this!” Yet he also fixed it… And before he could protest further the glass was forced to his lips again, tinking against teeth. All gentleness had evaporated and he drank up obediently, pulling a face at the last sip as the last remnants of the crushed aspirin slid down his throat.

Zayne ignored the disgusted blegh and put everything back into Jay’s first aid kit. He eyed the white dressing over the cut, as if daring it to turn red again. “Maybe go see a doctor tomorrow?”

“Not if I don’t have to.” Jay swiped Zayne’s hand away that was reaching out to pull his shirt back down. He could do that himself, thank you. He did let Zayne pull the covers back over him. Which, yeah, he could’ve done himself, but large movements were… well, he didn’t fully trust Zayne’s wound dressing, he mentally settled on to push the gratitude away. He let himself slide down from the pillow, wincing and hissing as the movement pulled at the cut.

He heard Zayne rinsing the glass in the bathroom. A thunk next to him as a new glass of water was offered – deposited – for the night without a word.

Then the lights turned off and, unfortunately, Zayne got back into bed again. Jay couldn’t turn away from him—or well, maybe he could, but pain had shifted to a light fear and he didn’t want to unsettle the wound or tear it open again so he just lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, lightly pondering what had just happened. He was tired as fuck anyway, he’d soon drift— Zayne’s soft voice pulled him back.

“Wake me, if something’s… if it feels wrong.”

-

Tag list:

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror

@susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime

@freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks

@hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion

@afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8

@itsmyworld98 @painless-and-colourful @withdrawingramen @lolrpop @nugget4427

[twilightarc-gm]

Why do you like jiang cheng?

At the risk of liking him for the wrong reasons, let me be verbose and annoying about it.

A short anecdote: I finished the donghua before the novel and I liked JC's aesthetic so I was happy to have that imagery in my head for the novel, but mostly I came out of the donghua like "cool story, the ending was frowny face though" and I came out of the novel like I was lost in the IKEA store "there's stuff here but it's not what I want and it's organized in a way that's hard to navigate through." Bit like giving me a puzzle to solve.

Anyway, imagine a cat bapping at a thing trying to get fandom to show me what to do with MDZS (i.e. reading fanfic) and then I come across anti-Jiang Cheng stuff.

//record scratch

I'm sorry what?

Why?

NO.

I started then on Shuangjie reconciliation fic and quickly evolved into Jiang Cheng "Apologist" ((I actually don't think he has anything to apologize for even if he would do so anyway.))

I've been in the xianxia/wuxia sphere of media consumption for a year or so before trying out MDZS and JC just fits so well as the main character of his own story; destined for a position of power through birth, friends with someone in his life that causes conflict, seemingly betrayed by said friend when needing that friend the most, losing and losing and losing as his trust in said friend proves unfounded because the friend walks a path he can't follow, and then he's left with the tragedy that befell the world because--ultimately he trusted this friend too much.

It's a classic story of love and attachment and how good intentions can have massive consequences. Two men entwined by fate and in the end there's a battle on a hill (off screen in this case) where one is forced to "kill" the other.

MDZS could have ended with the past timeline, and I would have liked it more but at least in the present timeline we get Jiujiu and a-Ling.

Anyway: Excerpts and Commentary Below about WHY I LOVE JIANG CHENG, courtesy WANYIN

Of all the clans to offend, you don’t offend the Jiang Clan, and of all the people to offend, you never offend Jiang Cheng.

We stand by a badass mf in this house. The first thing we learn is that he gets credit for killing a big baddy and the second thing we learn is how fierce the rest of his reputation is. He brooks no shit and leaves no quarter. Amazing 💜

Well, I was done for at "gaze like two streaks of cold lightning" so RIP me, I guess. Reminds me of some antis that are like "you only like him because he's hot" which isn't true but it is a nice plus. He's described as inferior to LWJ so like, if it was only about hotness then wouldn't I like LWJ???

“I am his uncle. Do you have any last words?”

At the sound of that voice, every drop of blood in Wei Wuxian’s body seemed to surge to his head but then immediately drained away again. Thankfully, his face was already a mess of ghastly white, so it didn’t look strange when he went a little paler.

A man in purple attire strode over. He was dressed in a narrow-sleeved light robe, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. A silver bell dangled from his waist, yet there was no sound when he walked.

This young man had fine brows and almond eyes, with a chiseled handsomeness to his features. His eyes were deep and intense with a hint of aggression, his gaze like two streaks of cold lightning. He stopped and stood three meters away from Wei Wuxian. His expression was like that of a nocked arrow on a bow, ready to shoot, and even his composure was suffused with arrogant pride.

Jiang Cheng ruled the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng alone, so it could have been said that he was in a state of isolation.

🥺 Alone?? And he could still afford 400 Immortal Binding Nets? Self-sufficient king 🤩 And like, his reputation is so fierce and he's boiling over with anger in that scene, but still he restrains himself because he did the cost-benefit analysis! And then later he takes a huge risk on WWX, like he always does for WWX, and that doesn't work out for him--like it always does.

Seeing that nothing had happened to Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng was greatly relieved. However, that relief soon turned into a furious reprimand:

Parent behavior. Enough said.

He has a twisted smile when encountering a trigger for his PTSD and then he decides to fight it instead of letting it paralyze him. He's such a doer. Like, every other moment of the day he's carefully calculating pluses and minuses to every choice (valid) but when it comes to facing his personal demons he's ready to throw down. Excellent.

A moment later, Jiang Cheng’s lips pulled into a twisted smile. His left hand subconsciously began stroking that ring once more.

He said softly, “Excellent. Back, are you?”

He let go of his left hand, and a long whip dangled from it.

“Oh? Then please enlighten me, what is your type?”

Walking A-Spec flag very concerned about what the man who might be his shixiong thinks about him, more at eleven!

Wei Wuxian waved him off and then hooked his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. “Who cares? I’ll tease him a bit more before I go. You’ve already collected my corpse so many times. Once more won’t hurt.”

Okay but big lol that JC doesn't get to collect WWX's corpse that final time. //sounds of sobbing

A smile appeared on his face, but then he immediately humphed.

He's so grumpy and adorable! I love him! pre massacre JC is precious and I just want him to have someone to bring out that smile again.

He literally didn't have to do this. He makes all these excuses how he'll be embarrassed if WWX is rolling around 😂 Perfection. Boy, you are still carrying him and he doesn't want you to stop.

Jiang Cheng, walk slower, you’re gonna throw me off.”

Not only did Jiang Cheng want to throw Wei Wuxian off, but he practically wanted to bash his head into the ground to create a human crater. “So fussy even though I’m carrying you!”

“I didn’t tell you to carry me,” Wei Wuxian reasoned.

Jiang Cheng flew into a rage. “If I didn’t carry you, I think you’d hang out at their ancestral hall all day, rolling around on the floor. I can’t afford this embarrassment! Lan Wangji took fifty more strikes than you, but he walked away on his own, and you’re not embarrassed, pretending to be an invalid? I don’t want to carry you anymore. Get the hell off!”

“No, I’m wounded,” Wei Wuxian said.

Alrighty, like I'm just going through the entire book at this point.

Let me see if I can make this more concise:

Sacrifices himself despite his very dutiful nature that would oppose this. He throws away all his responsibilities for WWX, again and again, carrying on a tradition of favoring WWX over his own health and happiness. Citing: JFM favoring WWX to the detriment of his marriage, JYL dying to save WWX, and JC (exhausted and with little or no power) running into danger to save WWX ala distracting the Wen patrol and 2nd Siege.

Can't be honest in his affections and makes up excuses to do nice things for others.

Loves and understands his sister. She wanted JZX so he made it happen when LLJ had absolutely no reason to reinstate the marriage contract between Xuanli. JGS notes in the CR arc that he didn't want the marriage for his son in the first place and that there were better options than YMJ, and that was before the war! JC helped her get to Yiling to show off her wedding dress! Even though she married out he still felt so attached to her son he couldn't not co-parent Jin Ling.

Yes, he has Zidian, but he also has a second horsewhip that he keeps on him which is very exciting to know.

The narrative hates him but he survives. (He survives because the narrative hates him).

Most BAMF entrance in the novel at the temple scene with the busting the temple doors down and coming in from the rain with an umbrella. Like sure the narrative hates him but small blessings that rule of cool still counts for something.

Mama's boy.

Just some dude, shows up late to treasury room nonsense, knows all the gossip, no one has faith in him including himself, but he keeps going and doing what needs to be done even when he's so so tired and his shixiong shows up 3 months late with a ghoul lady and a latte, or disappears to liberate slave property without warning first and now he's called into a midnight meeting after trying to get some much needed rest and now he's got consequences to deal with. Someone help him!

An expert at sneering. Threats as a show of worry and care. This makes all the little and brief smiles so much more endearing.

Sandu Shengshou is an amazing title, get out of here if you don't agree. Holy Hand of the Three Poisons? Brutal, perfect 💜 It gets used like, ONCE. Crime against me personally.

Link to Blorbo Sheet for JC

He loves, he hates, he wants to hate he's not allowed to love. Zero middle ground, he's all in and there's no way out.

//is shot and dragged off stage

But just as the Wei Wuxian of the past who’d extracted his golden core for Jiang Cheng had been unable to tell him the truth, the Jiang Cheng of the present could no longer bring himself to speak up.

[alicentflorent]

I have had to unfollow so many supposed Alicent fans because of their support for the bastardisation of her character. I didn't mind that they were Rhaenicent shippers but the way they're jumping through hoops to justify Alicent choosing Rhaenyra over her own family is making me want to pull my hair out!

What do they like about Alicent exactly? That she's a pathetic hypocrite who will happily side with the woman who slaughtered her grandson? Don't give me the whole "but Nyra didn't know!" bs. Did she punish Daemon? Did she show any remorse? Did she apologise for what happened? No, instead she demands Alicent accept the deaths of her sons to avenge Luke.

The fact of the matter is show!Alicent doesn't exist for Alicent/Team Green/HotD fans, she exists only for Rhaenicents/Rhaenyra stans who want to see everyone fall at the Dragon Queen's feet in worship of her.

You're absolutely right, she only exists for Rhaenicent and not even in a good way because Rhaenyra (understandably) looks down on her and Alicent's characterisation has to be thrown out and she has to make herself worthy of Rhaenyra by going against herself and what she fought for and they dress it up as her finally "doing something for herself" (which is what giving in to some kind of degradation kink?)

Realistically Alicent should have gone feral the moment Rhaenyra said "a son for a son" those were the words daemon used when instructing two assassins to kill one of the Hightower boys. Those are the words Heleana heard before being forced to point to her son who was then beheaded.

In the books Alicent says something like "how many must die for your thirst for vengeance?" why couldn't the show give her this line? why is Rhaenyra the only one allowed to want revenge? why is she allowed to call out alicent/the greens actions but Alicent isn't allowed to be angry and call out Rhaenyra/the blacks? Why is she going to Rhaenyra and debasing herself by confessing her sins and asking Rhaenyra to come with her? Her priority is helaena so why is she making a deal that isn't well thought out that will kill the father of Helaena's child and then going as far as to invite Rhaenyra knowing that Helaena's son was killed in Rhaenyra's name and Rhaenyra never apologised for it? She isn't liberating herself, she's betraying herself before becoming the queen in chains along with Helaena. As much as they defend it alicent choosing Helaena, this plan does not help Helaena.

Mind you, I've also had to unfollow or block certain "team green" stans who fell for the anti alicent agenda. Stans who will write meta's on how Alicent's sons have been done dirty by the writers while also hating on alicent for being so evil and horrible to her sons. Alicent has been rage bait for both sides of the fandom ever since 2x01, she has been humiliated sexually and politically for daring to choose the wrong side. I hate how she's been written but I can acknowledge that this is a clear attempt by the writers to punish alicent and reduce her to her relationship with Rhaenyra. I can also acknowledge that the most of team green have been treated similarly by the writers. In season one they made it clear that while she wasn't a good mother, she loved her kids fiercely and protected them and what have given her life for them. in season two we are constantly being hit over the head with the alicent is a hypocrite and a bad mother narrative and in almost every episode there is a scene of Alicent's bad mothering paralleling Rhae Rhee's good, loving mothering.