#at the least. and consider. When you can. but just quit being unable to coexist with criticism and different opinions rip

[greenjokwe-blog]

Ninja Gaiden Black - Finished 23/03/2023

Man, I need to vet these games more before I decide I’m gonna finish them.

That’s not to say that Ninja Gaiden Black is a bad game, of course, to start right off the bat I enjoyed it quite a bit. While I didn’t initially plan on playing it, thinking back on the Devil May Cry games I remembered I never really gave this one a shot, when reminiscing over Xbox exclusives with friends. I always think of how much I’ve changed since then, from not being able to beat the first level of DMC3 as a kid, to eventually beating it and adoring each moment. I also think back to recently beating Dark Souls 2, and even though I usually downplay how “good” I am at games and use excuses as to why what I’m able to do I consider to not be out of the ordinary. Dark Souls 2 definitely got me to reflect on that and give myself some credit but fuck, after Ninja Gaiden Black, just give me all the credit. Give me the whole arcade, actually.

I get kinda weird about gaging difficulty for games, I think the modern perspective of difficulty is completely different to what it was, and the fact that we’ve all accepted Souls as “the most difficult thing to ever exist ever” is kinda proof of that. However, if we’re basing it on 21st Century games, no save states, no exploits, running through as intended, and factoring in a consistent struggle rather than random difficulty “stuck” spikes... Ninja Gaiden Black is almost definitely the hardest game I’ve ever beaten, and I only played it on normal.

Y’see, the way I see it is with a game like Dark Souls, as difficult as its hardest points can be, one or two messing around with the game’s systems or having a full commitment to one build can mitigate a LOT of the game’s overall frustrations. Ninja Gaiden Black requires at least a good amount of competency in its overall mechanics and combat in order to be beaten. And to be fair the game’s combat is pretty damn good! You’re given the faith of having a large kit right from the getgo, and your interest is only kept over time with the introduction of upgrades and new weapons, and different kinds of projectiles to weave into battle. Enemies hit hard but so do you, and (most of) their attacks are well-telegraphed enough for you to use one of many effective defence mechanisms and come back with a 20/30 hit, fighting game-style combo, that feels satisfying in a way unlike any other game of its kind.

Where the game ultimately fails in terms of its Devil May Cry contemporaries, however, is having its combat and platforming elements coexist without conflicting with each other. Both on their own at their best moments shine very brightly, especially how wall running can lead to some true ninja-esque moments, but when fused together to fit in one cohesive game, can lead to a lot of unintended inputs that are impossible to easily mitigate. That along with the absolutely terrible camera in the game lead to issues like completely missing a jump and being unable to gauge what is needed to land, and losing a combo because you needed to spam a move to give yourself the right spacing which you still weren’t able to get. 

The game is kind of filled with frustrating aspects like this, including the fairly primitive first-person bow mechanics in urgent combat situations, but I think the shocking thing is despite the game’s most glaring annoyances the whole experience remains pretty damn solid. The bosses, while extremely hard and also very infuriating with how much they repeat the same bosses over and over again, definitely still have their highlights, and some manage to be extremely engaging and rewarding. The graphics look insane for 6th gen, you can tell that this is a game that tested the Xbox to its limits. The story... honestly I had no fucking clue what was happening but the FMV’s look cool as shit.

Now don’t get me wrong, there were a LOT of moments playing this where I was on the verge of crying and going “there was no reason to make the game this hard”, but hey I fucking beat it! Which is saying something considering how unfair the game can be at points with saves (even if it’s one of the more generous of the generation), and extremely minimal heals at the beginning of the game, which lead to me hoarding all my heals till the end of the game making it harder for myself, but fuck I breezed through the last part of the game cuz of that, hey I even beat the final boss on my first try! Frustrating and faulty on a level that doesn’t make it as strong as the two DMC games I finished, but still a really fun experience I can now use as bragging rights from hereon out in my gaming career.

[ziracona]

In full honesty, serial killer stans and a lot of horror fans in general really need to learn or remember how to be able to accept criticism existing in the fandom spaces they’re in period and also acknowledging the validity in them when someone else highlights something that is wrong.

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

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[saphirered]

Betrothal

This is part two of a request because part one already was already too long. I cut this one down too but didn’t want to turn it into a three-parter for one request 😅 but that does mean this is also a long one. Anyway. Enjoy! 

Time for another social event. There’s been way too many already in your opinion and you don’t think you’d be able to smile through another one. Lucky for you Essek shares this sentiment. Nevertheless you were expected so you’ have to attend, so attend you will. 

Ready to depart you walk down the stairs, fingers drifting over the handrail as you go. The hem of your fine garments of pristine white and silver trail a step or two behind you as you go. Appropriate jewellery of diamond encrusted platinum adorns your neck, fingers and ears like pure starlight. Already waiting at the door you see Essek, a similar style of attire shifts in the purple and night blue colour schemes, something you’ve grown more accustomed to the more time you’ve spent with him. It suits him. 

“You are quite the visage, dear.” You put a sarcastic emphasis on the pet name, something both of you have taken to when out of earshot. Ever since the arrangement between just the two of you gleeful sarcasm has replaced the belittling resentment. As you stated before, you’re much better off actually coexisting than you are making each other’s lives miserable. 

“And even the brightest stars pale in comparison to you, beloved.” The compliment is genuine but with a highly exaggerated lovesick undertone in reply to your comment. You lift your hand to your forehead and bat your eyes in a ‘I might swoon’ gesture before the both of you break and chuckle. 

“If we were actually lovers I might have to worry I’ll have to fend off the many suitors attempting to take my place.” You swat at Essek’s arm with a grin.

“I doubt I have any suitors left wishing to take your place. They are entirely afraid you’ll turn them into frogs or perhaps float them into the skies never to be seen again if they even dare to vie for my attention.” You laugh as Essek offers you his arm. You take it lacing it through his, another thing having become second nature in the past few months.

“Only if you’d ask me to would I resort to such measures. Ready to travel in style?” The comment and seriousness behind it is enough to raise your eyebrow in a ‘really?’ response but he doesn’t dignify you with an answer instead waiting for you to answer his question. 

If you’ve learned anything from the negotiations you’ve had, Essek doesn’t just give anything for free, especially not his precious time, so to say he’d go out of his way and use his precious resources without a second thought simply because you’d ask him is… new… Even more so without expecting anything in return. No favour for a favour? Odd…

“Always.” You put on your smile and in an instance the two of you are warped through space, appearing in the foyer of your hosts for the evening. Gotta love magic. 

Immediately you’re approached by the hosts, excusing themselves from whatever guests below your stations they were previously engaging with. Essek lets you take the lead and do most of the talking. He seems a bit more reversed than usual but you simply brush it off as boredom. Something is up with him and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to the bottom of it, you’d simply have to! What if he falls through and does something that could reflect badly on the both of you? That’s a proper reason to do so, right? 

The night continues but you’re not given any opportunities to excuse yourself and Essek just yet. Every time you’re interrupted by someone wanting a word with either or both of you. Topics mostly revolve around your respective work, political topics but some particularly daring people carefully try to navigate your conversation to more private matters looking for the latest gossip.

After the public announcement of your courtship, when can they expect a formal engagement or have you gotten engaged informally already? Any wedding plans on the table? If you decide to raise children which one of you will stay at the Bright Queen’s side or will you both keep your places at the Bastion? Is the Shadowhand much of a romantic despite his cold exterior? If it comes to the engagement, will you ask him or he you and have you got anything planned yet? How was your first kiss? Was it romantic fireworks and all or have you learned to love each other? 

Each and every time when you didn’t want to fabricate an answer, you made it up as you went with such conviction that some of your answers made even Essek think twice if some of these events had really transpired or not. Whenever you’d ask him for his input or suggest him saying something he did but his replies had to be pulled out of him or he’d stay in his own world unless directly asked. What in the world is going on with him? 

Yet again not being able to get a single step closer to a word in private with Essek you’d given up and decided to leave the matter until you returned home. Home. No matter how many times you say it it still feels weird. You’d never truly considered any place home, just a place you resided and could leave behind in an instance. 

You’d come to realise the towers had begun to feel like home and you’d have a much bigger struggle leaving behind the books, the studies, the meals not spent eating alone, the room with the fireplace you’d spent going over your shared paperwork with to cut down your workload and have the evenings free, those evenings spent in absolutely roasting some of your fellow court members, or discussing what rumours might have some truth and you could use to your advantages in the future… You’d miss that place if you’d go back to living elsewhere. There’s something else but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Nevermind. You’ll figure it out if it’s important. 

“Excuse me. May I have this dance?” A daring drow you recognise to be from one of the other dens approaches you and Essek. You’re about to brush him off and let the man down gently but before you can Essek interjects. 

“Please, do not feel obligated to keep me company. I can entertain myself for a moment, darling.” Essek’s not much of a dancer and never had been. You enjoy it every so often but don’t necessarily jump at every opportunity you get. You take the offered hand of the drow.

“You may.” You tell him. While you’re guided to the dance floor you give Essek a confused look. You don’t get any kind of response from him as he continues the conversation you’d been having prior to the interruption. Other pairs join in and a new song begins to play. Nothing too fancy to particularly intimate. A simple nice waltz you’d be able to execute perfectly eyes closed. Blessed be the life of a noble-born schooled in any and all social graces from a young age. 

Your dance partner is a good dancer but by the light is he a dull conversationalist. You’re dying on the inside. One moment he’s boasting about his accomplishments within his den, the next he’s asking your professional opinions on political matters and how you’d navigate them, the next your opinion is insignificant because he knows exactly what he’d do and why it would work. Before you know it he’s asking if there’ll be any spots on the Bright Queen’s side opening up in the future because he thinks he might make a good candidate… 

But you let him talk and smile through it until you feel gracious enough to rip him to shreds instead of letting him be laughed off by the inner circle. Gently you correct every statement he’s made, with examples of the past and what happened to the poor fools that tried. You’re not brutal about it, and bring it in the nicest way possible no matter how much you might want to tear him down and face this idiot with the facts. Then you suggest perhaps he’d want to try smaller scale things first, maybe more locally to see if he has a taste for it. 

Of course your charm works. Of course it did. Much to your dismay this ‘act of kindness’ made the poor drow more interested in you than he’d already been. You were schooling him like you would a child for the Light’s sake! You brush off any and all attempts of charming you and getting into your good graces but apparently this thickheaded idiot doesn’t catch on. Maybe he should stay away from politics entirely if he can’t even get a hint. Luckily the dance it about to end.

“Perhaps we could go for a walk later this week? Or maybe a lunch if you’d prefer?” The fool smiles suggestion clear. You want to roll your eyes so hard but refrain. 

“My apologies. I’m occupied this week.” 

“Another time then?” 

“I’ll have to check my schedule. I’ll get back to you on that.” The waltz ends, you curtsy. Some couples leave the dance floor, others join to replace them. You’ll have to be quick. You look around the room. Essek where are you? You don’t see him. 

“Excuse me. I believe the Shadowhand is waiting for me.” You give the fool an apologetic smile and rush off before he can do or say anything else to keep you on the dance floor. Much to your dismay you’re whisked away by another drow from a lesser den as you’re unable to reach the outskirts before the next song starts. It’s inappropriate to leave a partner standing on the floor in the middle of a dance so you’ll have to go through yet another routine. 

You thought the former one was a dull conversationalist. This one’s worse. So. Much. Worse. You can’t wait for this to end. Essek would probably find it entirely hilarious once you tell him how much you’d prefer a quiet dance partner, or at the very least one that can feign an intellectual conversation without breaking the illusion in under a minute. Even then, could they please stop trying to stroke their own egos in the hopes of getting your attention? 

Before your betrothal you only had to deal with advancements, people trying to win over your heart, or your hand in marriage, but now, they’re entirely after not only your favour but Essek’s as well, wishing to get into your good graces and climb the social ladder; be that through (attempted) smooth words, gifts or your beds. It’s a disgusting reality. Maybe if this engagement goes through between you and Essek you’ll have to ask him how he feels about displaying a monogamous relationship for the public just to keep these people away from you and by default him? He wouldn’t be opposed to keep romantic and sexual advancements far away from him now would he? 

Eventually you struggle your away from the dance floor making excuses as you go and find a calm and quiet place. You had to approach the host coming up with excuse you weren’t feeling well and needed a moment away from people. The host understanding and wishing to please you, offered you access to one of the private sitting rooms upstairs where the guests aren’t allowed to go. It’d be calm and quiet and you’d be able to have some fresh air on the balcony too. 

This moment of peace and quiet gave you a chance to think over some things, mainly Essek’s behaviour of the night because don’t think you’d forgotten about that one nor were you going to just let that slide. Any and all theories you came up with in the next several minutes made no sense and held no reasonable credibility. You’re at a loss. 

To play people’s emotions you’d need to have an understanding of them but what do you do when you can’t place those emotions or explain the reasoning behind them? It’s easy when someone disagrees with you. How passionate are they about the subject and how willing to defend it? It’s easy to draw out anger from that, or frustration, more passion, and even pity. That’s child’s play. It makes sense. Essek does not currently. 

“Okay. You got this. Set things straight. You can figure this out. Take a step back and analyse.” You say to yourself sitting down on the plush couch, elbows on your knees and head leaning on your clasped hands. After going over every explanation you came to the most reasonable conclusion. 

Essek’s internalising his problems. There’s no one he feels he can confide in. For some reason he’s realised only tonight he’s distancing himself from you. If it’s selfishness it’s because he thinks you might be able to use it against him. This goes against his need for self-preservation. If it’s because it’s something he’s committed to whatever it is, he’s limiting the people involved because of the need of secrecy be that witnesses or possibly collateral damage. 

“But that’s not it is it?” You groan frustrated. There’s a knock on the door so you quickly recompose yourself; hands clasped on your lap, back straightened and welcoming smile back on. The door opens and you see the familiar floating drow enter. 

“I was informed you were feeling unwell?” Essek asks more than says giving you a once over and coming to the conclusion nothing ails you physically. Dropping your facade you take a deep sigh reflecting your current mood but not reasoning. He steps inside and closes the door behind him giving the two of you the chance to speak freely. 

“I take it your dance was not to your liking?” There’s a hint of humour in his voice as you throw yourself against the couch looking at the ceiling with an audible groan. From your slanted position forgoing any and all social graces you were taught. If anyone else could see you now you might be in trouble but it was only Essek and you’ve seen him in similar states. 

“I might take you up on your offer to tap into the sacred arts of Dunamis to get rid of some of these fools. I don’t think I’ve ever met people more dull and lacking of refine and intelligence. One could find more brains in a gelatinous cube. ” You adjust your seating arrangement and pat the spot beside you inviting Essek to sit down but he stays where he is. 

“I’ll make sure to order some new expeditions to the Barbed Fields. While they may make for poor company the rocs might just find them a decent if not bland meal.” While the offer is made with jest you can’t help but hear a tinge of sincerity in it. What’s going on? Were the people you danced with someone Essek’s been at odds with? If so why did he suggest you go dance with them in the first place? That doesn’t add up… But you’re not going to find out more without him talking. Keep him talking until he slips up or until your run out of words and face him with your questions directly. 

“Or maybe being surrounded by someone praised for intelligence and refine just dulls everything in comparison. You’ve truly ruined me Shadowhand.” You laugh and again pat the empty spot on the couch. This time seeing your insistence and lack of intent to leave this room any time soon, Essek sits down, a bit more distance that usual between the two of you. 

You give Essek a once over getting some insight in his behaviour. He’d be aware you’re doing so so you don’t even attempt to hide it, if anything you make it obvious to push for a response. You tilt your head to the side as you lean it on your curled fingers in tough. He’s more rigid than usual. That’s uncomfortable or anxious. It’s looking closer to both now. Essek is staring back at you but his gaze is not focused on you, but whatever reaches his vision as a whole. Avoidance. He mutters something under his breath but you can’t make out the words. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Nevermind. Will you be coming back down or would you prefer we go back to the towers?” ‘The towers’? He’s never referred to them as this in this context. It’s always just been ‘home’. It is his home so why cease to refer to it as such because you’re in that context. 

“What time is it?” Essek gives you the time and you let yourself sink back into the couch once more. Why must the universe be so cruel? 

“Still another half an hour before it would be acceptable to leave.” You look around the room. It’s a higher end sitting room definitely decorated to receive more important guests. The candles are lit with an arcane flame so it was set up to possibly receive guests. The view from the balcony or close to the windows allows the people outside to see silhouettes when the fine iridescent drapes when drawn, or reveal when opened as they are now. While muffled if the room is quiet you can still hear the music and chattering from the ground floor. 

You push Essek to talk about what he’d been up to when you were dancing but his answers are right to the point, just barely detailed enough if not a bit absentminded. His behaviour shifts throughout from neutral to cold to the way he’s been around you since you both had come to terms with your arrangement, almost as if he’s preoccupied and trying to multitask equally difficult tasks. He doesn’t allow the conversation to flow naturally. Every time he’s answered he wouldn’t elaborate or carry the conversation. If you didn’t ask any other questions or give your input you doubt there would be any back and forth between the two of you. 

Deciding you’ve had enough and this wouldn’t give you much more answers you were looking for, you give up. You turn your body to face him, look at him directly suspicious and watching his every move. You press your lips together and squint.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on or am I going to have to pry it out of you?” While there’s some worry in your voice, because you do worry, it is still a threat. You won’t let go unless he explains himself or has a damn good reason not to. 

“I assure you, it’s inconsequential. You have nothing to worry about.” Essek forces a smile. Inconsequential? To you? Because definitely not to him!

“With your attitude? I think I do. There’s two reasons why I you refuse to tell me. One, it’s secretive and possibly dangerous therefor limiting the amount of people you want involved in fear of hurting them or you getting hurt because of their opinions. Two, I’m directly involved or to blame for whatever is going on and you’re pushing me away to avoid conflict.” A sense of dread washes over Essek, you notice. Biting his tongue he holds back whatever comment he had. 

“It’s nothing you need concern yourself with. I can deal with this on my own.” Okay so confirmation first suggestion is out of the running. This had to do with you. 

“Essek, Light be with me, if this involves me please just tell me. I swear if this is how you’re going to be I need to teach you some proper communication skills or I fear for our future.” You watch him closely and there’s a hint of shame peaking through as well as guilt. 

“Would it hurt you so much to trust me?” Before Essek’s given the chance to answer there’s a knock on the door and the handle begins to turn signalling someone is entering. Thinking quickly you clench your teeth at the interruption, scoot to Essek’s side of the couch and lean your head against his shoulder, a pained frown on your face and eyes closed entwining your fingers. Essek, freezes for a second at the sudden contact but recovers quickly and joins in the act wrapping an arm around you to massage at your shoulder and neck. 

“Apologies for the intrusion. The master of the house asked me to check up to see if you needed any assistance.” The head servant peaks in and peaking from under your lashes you can see she almost melts at the sight she sees; a loving drow comforting his unwell partner. 

“Thank the master of the house for his concern and kindness but we’re alright. Will you be fine to rejoin the festivities, beloved?” Essek asks you sounding every bit the part he’s expected to play while still pushing to avoid continuing your conversation before the interruption. 

“I think I may need a few more minutes I’m afraid.” You’re not done yet and won’t let Essek get away with it so easily as you feign a heavy migraine. The head servant excuses herself and leaves closing the door once more. Essek stops massaging your shoulder expecting or rather hoping you’d remove yourself from him. You don’t and sit up just enough to be face to face with him. You have a stare down with him until he relents. 

“Fine. It is not a matter of trust.” Blunt and short. You squeeze his hand tightly narrowing your eyes not satisfied with the answer. Essek will have to do better and he knows it. 

“I’ve simply come to some conclusion I do not wish to share with you.” Okay, that’s not that bad. If that’s it, you might let it go. If he has things to sort out on his own, you’re not going to stand in the way of that. 

“And these conclusions you’ve come to have to do with me?” It’s more a statement than a question but Essek still nods not meeting your eye and instead focusing on your entwined fingers. You place a hand on his cheek lifting his face until he’s forced to look you in the eye. 

“You’ve come to me with your concerns before just like I have to you. Even when they have to do with me, know you still can. I won’t think any less of you nor will I be offended as long as you’re honest.” You’re about to pull away from your position to allow Essek some space but when you do it hits… You remove yourself from Essek’s side and hide your face in your hands. You could punch yourself right now. 

“Remind me to never claim I’m the cleverer one out of the two of us.” You groan muffled by your hands as you look back up with a frustrated exhaustion. How could you not have noticed? Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. You should have caught on but no, you were so occupied on keeping an act going you lost sight of it. And then in your little thinking process, you analysed Essek the Shadowhand, not Essek, your friend and partner. 

“So you figured it out.” Essek breaths a weight lifted from his shoulders hides the slight deflation and is that disappointment? 

“Not to be rude but after spending this much time with you, you’re not exactly a good actor.” 

“But you are and have been an exceptional actor. You could even have fooled me should you have chosen to.” A compliment with a hidden dig at himself. Is he… blaming himself for growing attached to you? That’s just terrible. 

“I could have and that would certainly explain my every action in public portraying the perfect loving couple. However, that doesn’t explain literally every interaction outside of social environments.” You can’t believe you weren’t aware of your own shift in behaviour. Before your betrothal you might have had an interest in Essek. If it weren’t for your own career you might have taken a shot prior to everything given the chance but attraction is not love.

Your betrothal, forced on you by your families closed both of you off because you’re both people that want to be in control of a situation and make your own choices. That’s why you’d been less than friendly with each other. You try to pinpoint when exactly it might have started. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t realise I had feelings for you. This is stupid.” You’re exasperated with yourself but Essek covering up shock catches you off-guard. 

“Don’t tell me you think this is all one sided. We’re both to blame for turning our lives into some cliche love story when we said we wouldn’t.” Essek looks on in shame hoping to neither confirm nor deny anything but you know him better than that. His silence gives him away. 

“You are a very convincing actor.” He defends blandly. “Are you sure you’re not still playing?” Essek adds as a joke upon seeing you roll your eyes. Your embarrassment and frustration with this whole revelation gives you a mote of courage and since this day couldn’t get any worse, you’ll take your chances. 

You move over right next to Essek sitting as close to him as you possibly can without climbing on top of him and grab his chin. Slightly confused thinking you’re about to retort his remark, Essek awaits his verdict. You bit the inside of your cheek in a last attempt to tell yourself this is a terrible idea but your mind is just blank. 

“I don’t know, my dear. Would a true love’s kiss reveal the truth?” You speak in a singsong manner that would make the bard’s colleges cringe making sure you sounded like the worst actor possible. Essek takes a hot second to figure out your words before it dawns on him what you’re asking. Do you really have to spell it out for him?

“Is it reasonable to say one may only be able to make up their mind through trial?” With that you pull Essek towards you allowing your hand to slide to his cheek. Making eye contact one final moment to make sure he’s alright with it, no hesitation is visible so you press your lips to his in a simple kiss. Essek’s hands find your hips and waist. 

You pull away awaiting his response if any. The kiss is entirely too short, in Essek’s opinion but you’re just being mindful of his boundaries not sure where this will lead and if the public displays of affection are something you’d both be comfortable with in this new context. Essek looks at you thoughtfully so you raise an eyebrow; a nonverbal tell to elaborate. 

“I think, I may need more examples to make sure you’re not just playing me.” You gasp feigning offence at his joke. Next you lean in close, hair’s breath away from kissing Essek.

“Luckily I have many more kisses to give you should you want them.” Essek leans in but you pull away just before your lips actually touch getting up from the couch and heading for the door; smile on your face. He takes a second and heads after you stepping between you and your direct path of the door but you could still easily walk around him should you wish to do so.

“Am I to understand you’ll remain a tease regardless of our involvement, beloved?” He empathises ‘beloved’ with the same sarcasm as ever. That might just have to be a habit you’ll never lose. You can certainly get used to it. 

“Did I give you any reason to expect differently. If you desire a kiss you may take it.” You blow Essek a kiss but are surprised he steps closer to you and makes eye contact giving you a chance to deny him.

“So he does find his courage.” You grin Essek’s lips meet yours in a deep if not slightly hesitant kiss. The hesitation fades quickly but the kiss doesn’t end as quickly as yours. Not that you mind. A habit you could get used to. Very used to but never tire of.

[stillness-in-green]

Spinaraki Week, Day 1: Fantasy

I didn’t intend for this to get so D&D so fast, but then Mr. Compress started talking about different types of summoning spells and there was no going back.  

League of Villains, D&D-style!  Featuring a few other familiar faces as well.

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

It’s been a dozen hallways and more individual rooms of creeping around, checking their guesswork map, resting and recharging where they can.  Between Toga’s shapeshifting, Sako’s near-endless bag of tricks, and Dabi’s ability to roast small fry to death before they can even scream a warning, they managed to sneak past almost all of the temple guardians—and then they hit the atrium.

Sunlight bathes the room, streaming in through a huge circular skylight in the roof.  There might have been glass in it once, to keep out the elements, but if so, it’s long gone now, and nature’s well on its way to taking back the space. Vines spill across the floor and climb up every wall, dotted with bursts of flowers, their petals a vivid but not entirely natural shade of midnight blue.  Little copses of fuller growth dot the room here and there, scrubby cypress trees and coastal pines spreading over islands of grass.  Tumbled chunks of masonry dot the floor, gradually being overtaken by the expanding green.  There’s a grandeur to it, though probably, Spinner thinks, slanting a glance over at Shigaraki, the original owner would disagree.

The League enters the room in a cautious, well-practiced formation.  Toga takes point, clever eyes cataloging potential dangers ahead even as she turns in place, clearly admiring the view.  Shigaraki’s right behind, stepping over the vines, an out of place black-clad figure amidst all the green.  His head, still covered by his raised hood, turns this way and that, taking in the surroundings.  Dabi and Sako keep close to each other in the middle, the former eyeing the plant life with his usual derision, the latter tipping back his hat to examine the skylight as he lets out a low whistle.  Spinner keeps watch at the back, his sword out and ready.  

“Sako, Toga—thoughts?” Shigaraki asks, voice pitched low.

“Vines could make spotting traps harder,” Toga opines, “but they could be choking some mechanisms, too.  I don’t know; this feels like a fight-a-big-monster space to me, but I don’t see anything.”  

“It’s likely intended as a place to address one’s followers,” Sako chips in.  “I should think if it were going to be turned into an impromptu arena, the ‘big monsters’ would be summoned in from extra-planar regions. Though I suppose if All for One made a habit of mauling guests, we mustn’t rule out holding chambers attached to the room.”

“Harder to see those through the vines, too.”

“Would anything like that even be alive still?” Spinner ventures, eyes tracking along the long curve of the wall.

“If they were natural beasts, almost certainly not,” Sako answers.  “But that’s a rather large ‘if’ to be betting on, given the circumstances, wouldn’t you say?”

“Summoned things,” Shigaraki says before Spinner can respond.  He peels his hood back, revealing a pinched, narrow-eyed expression.  “What good would those do with no one to give ‘em directions? Would they even fight us?”

“It would be fairly simple to imbue such prepared spells with basic directives like, ‘Defend the chamber’ or ‘Attack anyone who doesn’t meet such-and-such criteria,’ so likely so.” Sako rolls his focus stone from one nimble hand to the other, back and forth, the movement of clear blue glass near-silent on the rich—if somewhat faded and damp-stained—silk of his sleeves.  “And definitely so when we consider the possibility of, oh, the sorts of binding spells that extract favors from higher agents that needn’t be immediately discharged.”

“Those don’t last forever,” Shigaraki says dismissively.  He pauses, considers, then retracts with, “At least, not if they were cast before.  But the guardians could be using their own, these days.  They could just recast when they need to.”

“A somewhat resource-consuming process, but possible,” Sako allows.  

“So what’s the verdict, Boss?”  Dabi twirls a lick of his signature azure flame around his fingers.  “Around the edges or straight through?”

Shigaraki considers it for another few seconds, glancing around the room and up to the ceiling again.  

“We’ll skirt around the skylight, just in case,” he says finally, “but otherwise, straight through.  If something’s gonna jump us in here, I wanna see it coming.”  

“Still traumatized by that time with the living wall, Tomura?” Toga teases, ignoring the scowls she gets from Dabi and Spinner.  Shigaraki just gives her an unimpressed look, at which she titters and sets out in front of the group, hopping lightly over the sprawls of roots and uneven stonework.  The group falls in behind her.

Spinner brings up the rear, clenching and unclenching his grip around the hilts of his swords.  They’ve been at this for hours now, and the casters are starting to run low—they’re got their standbys and a few more pull-out-all-the-stops type spells before they’re spent.  With Magne and Jin both back at camp, he’s the closest thing to muscle this group’s got, and while it’s definitely a stealthier affair all around without Jin’s cross-grained rambling and Magne’s…  Well, between the chainmail shirt, the shawm, and the lively banter, there’s a lot to miss about Magne, but right now, stepping away from the reassuring solidity of the wall and out into the open air, what Spinner definitely misses most is her strong arm.  The back rank feels empty without her, and it’s got him nervy.  

They progress across the room, gusts of a warm breeze soughing in from the skylight.  Spinner—who spent most of his youth clambering around the woods—focuses on keeping an eye out, with the others distracted by keeping their footing. He doesn’t fully trust the flowers. Wild magic can have really weird effects on local plant life—you find that out quick enough, being in a party with Dabi—and by all accounts, the magic at the heart of this place is something else.  Still, a room full to bursting with fragrant climbing not-quite-lilies in a color that would have a weaver’s guild breaking down the front doors is…  It just wouldn’t have been his first guess for “expected outcome of long-term coexistence with a demonic arcane relic.”

Or whatever it is they’re here to secure.  That’s what Spinner got out of Shigaraki’s explanation, and that much only after Sako helped their leader translate his latest dark-omens-and-portents dream courtesy of his “patron.”  He’s pretty confident about it, anyway, and Shigaraki’s confidence is���well, infectious, if worth second-guessing him on from time to time.  

The second-guessing is what he’s thinking about when the vines burst out of the ground at the head of the group.  

Shigaraki and Toga jerk sideways with a grunt and a muffled shriek, wooden branches wrapping around their limbs, thickening with supernatural speed; between them, something like one of the cypress trees blooms out of the ground, a riot of prehensile limbs growing off of a central mass, dotted with those damn flowers.  A helm-shaped head lifts out of the wood and twists around to face them, a yellow glow emanating from within hollowed out spaces where a normal creature would have eyes.

“It’s some sort of elemental!” Sako calls as Spinner bolts forward, to which Toga groans in frustration, “Ugh, I hate elementals!”  

“Wait—a wood elemental? You’re kidding, right?” Dabi laughs around a leer and steps forward, fire blazing up in a leaping, living spiral from his hands.  The tree thing’s gaze flashes over to him and it falls back in a hurry, dragging Toga and Shigaraki along with it.  Its head cranes up towards the distant ceiling and it shouts something in Primordial.

Spinner’s heart sinks at what’s clearly a rally for backup, then drops even lower when a shadow falls over the room.  A sound like the thrum of dragon’s wingbeat reverberates through the air from above as something huge eclipses across the skylight.

“It was a really nice day out,” a woman’s voice booms in complaint.  “Why can’t we ever get tomb raiders on rainy days?”

“Scatter!” Shigaraki barks out just as the giantess drops through the skylight.

She cracks the floor when she lands, the weight of her rocking the whole room, even the echoes painfully loud. Sako sways wildly but keeps his feet, but Dabi goes over, flames guttering.  Spinner throws himself into a sideways roll, jarring his shoulder but coming up back up clear of her reach.  The wood elemental hasn’t noticed yet, but Toga catches his eyes and widely, exaggeratedly mouths, Door, at him before tossing her head towards the far wall.  

Spinner follows her glance and sees it—there’s no visible sign of doors, but there, on the wall directly across from the entrance, vines have grown around something, a space of ordered, even lines amidst the natural misrule of the rest of the growth.  He can guess at her train of thought: get the door open, regroup, fall back—the outline suggests the entrance is big, but not stone giant big, and the wood elemental won’t stand a chance once Dabi gets his act together. The big patches of grass everywhere offer pretty decent camouflage, if Spinner keeps his profile low—it wouldn’t be hard to slip over there while the flashier members of the group run distraction.

And then he looks back at Shigaraki, pitching and struggling in the wood elemental’s other arm, his writhing fingers unable to find purchase on the lacquered prison, and Spinner’s halfway to closing the distance before he even consciously makes the decision.

Toga makes a sound like a discontented puma, half-annoyed yowl and half-heavy sigh, wheezing from the grip of the snare.  She twists like an eel, too fluid for something with the usual humanoid skeletal structure, and drops to the floor, free hand coming up fast with a vial of acid in her hands.  The elemental makes another swipe at her, and, when she arches away from the rushing leaves, turns abruptly, glowing eyes landing on Spinner as he charges in.

Elementals don’t have the usual humanoid structure, either—because nothing in Spinner’s life can ever be easy—and that means pretty much any spot’s as good as the next with them.  Still, something with a slashing edge seems a better bet than a sharp point, so Spinner sheathes his short sword in favor of tightening up a double-handed grip on his longsword. He brings it down with all the force he can muster on the wooden bough stretching out of the thing’s main mass and entangling Shigaraki.  The sound of breaking glass heralds Toga striking true on the thing’s other side, and the elemental groans and creaks.  

A whiff of smoke finds Spinner’s nose a split-second before the familiar thunderclap sound of flame blossoming into existence in previously empty air finds his ears.  The whole battlefield changes hues as a column of fire erupts in the center of the room, so tall it clears the skylight.  The giantess screams, in rage as much as pain, and for just a second, the wood elemental looks away, head angling backwards in concern.

Shigaraki finally gets an arm free and twists his fingers around a spell gesture.  He spits out a snake-nest of a sentence, all tight cadence and sibilants, and on the last word, reaches back in to lock his hand around a branch holding him.  The elemental cries out, louder this time, and shudders from trunk to tip; twigs snap loose, leaves brown and twist and fall in a sudden autumnal rain.  In the gouge opened up by Spinner’s blade, wooden flesh dries from bright new green to splintering, sawdust yellow.  

Been doing this long enough to know an opening when I see one, Spinner thinks, yanks his sword free, and drives it in again with an angry grunt.  The branches spasm and Shigaraki squirms free at last, dropping into a crouch and scrambling backward.  

“Get to the door,” he growls, and when Spinner starts to protest, overrides him with, “That giant’s making enough racket to wake the dead.  We can handle these two—we can’t handle the whole damn temple’s-worth of backup.  We need to get it open and get the hell out of here.”

“Loud and clear!” Toga chirps and taps one foot on the floor in a quick 2-1-1 pattern before sprinting away.

Spinner nods and falls back before the elemental can gather itself up for another one of those grapples—he doesn’t have Toga’s dexterity, or even Shigaraki’s.  But the elemental draws back as well, casting its gaze across the three of them in quick succession before in folds in on itself and vanishes into the foliage littered across the floor.  

“What’s it—”

“We’ll know when it does it. Door.”  

“Right.”  Spinner’s glances over to where Toga’s already nearly to the far wall, unhindered by the overgrowth.  Navigating the plant life, that’s a simple enough thing for him, too, but Shigaraki…  

“It’ll be faster this way,” he says aloud and, before Shigaraki can protest, scoops him up around the waist and clear off his feet.

Shigaraki snorts but doesn’t fight him, instead taking the opportunity to prop himself over Spinner’s shoulder and fire off a sizzling purple energy blast.  There’s an indignant shriek from the giantess and Spinner redoubles his speed.  Giants have a mean arm when provoked, and he’s got no interest in getting turned into a smear of plant food courtesy of a hurled chunk of masonry—and looking back on it, all the loose boulders around should probably have been a clue.

“Dabi, Sako—fall in!” Shigaraki yells at the kind of volume he hardly ever uses.  

Seconds later, up ahead of them, Dabi and Sako blink into existence by the doors just as they shudder their way open, trailing vines like streamers, filling the hall with the scrape of stone on stone.  

“Just charge through,” Shigaraki mutters to him, throwing off another round of attacks.  

“I don’t think so!” the giantess thunders, and a boulder goes sailing past over Spinner’s head. He sees the trajectory of it—giants have a mean and accurate arm when provoked—and hisses in dismay.  

“Hold on!”  He tightens his grip on Shigaraki and hunkers down in his next two steps, propelling himself into a leap just as the boulder crashes into the wall above the doors.

The next few seconds are a blur of noise and billowing dust and Shigaraki’s face pressed against the side of Spinner’s neck, body tripwire-taut in his arms, and then pain dashed like sea spray across the back of his head, and he barely registers botching the landing as he tumbles into unconsciousness.

     ———–      

He comes to in darkness so total he almost doesn’t expect his hand to move when he goes to pat at his eyes, anticipating bindings, a blindfold, anything but what actually happens, which is whacking himself in the face with a completely unrestrained hand.  

“Good, you’re up,” comes Shigaraki’s voice.  “Come on; we need to keep moving before that giant decides to start excavating.”  His hands wrap unerringly around Spinner’s and tug; obediently, Spinner gets his feet under him and helps Shigaraki help him up.

Why the hell doesn’t someone have a torch lit yet? is his first thought, as he gingerly reaches up to prod at the lump behind one ear.  

“Wait, wait; I can’t see an inch in front of my face,” he complains as Shigaraki tries to get them walking, stopping in place.  

“Yeah.  Magic darkness spells do that,” Shigaraki responds tartly.

“What, are we out of dispels already?”  Spinner turns his head, and it finally penetrates, how quiet it is.  No other voices but his own and Shigaraki’s—no Dabi with a cantrip and a sarcastic remark, no nattering from Toga or Sako.  “Oh, hell, did we get split up?”  

“Yeah.  And before you ask, there’s wards up, so no one’s teleporting in here after us.  We couldn’t even get a Sending through.”

“So we’re just—going on without them?”  His voice sounds suddenly small in the dark; Shigaraki’s hands bob once around his.

“No choice,” he answers.  “Situation’s the same as it was before—if they can’t come through with magic, they can’t wait around out there for the rest of the guard to show up.  We’ll meet ‘em back at camp after I get what I’m after.”

“So we’re just—walking down this hallway in the dark.”  Did you learn how to find traps when I wasn’t paying attention?  Spinner can’t bring himself to say the last part out loud.

“You’re walking down this hallway in the dark.  I can see just fine.”  Shigaraki gives him another sharp jerk and this time, reluctantly, Spinner allows himself to be pulled along.  

“Aren’t you worried about traps?” he manages.  He pats at his waist, finding first his short sword, then his longsword, which Shigaraki must have resheathed while he was out.  He draws it for the small comfort it affords him to have a weapon ready to hand.

A thoughtful silence follows the question.  Shigaraki’s footsteps are even and measured; the floor underfoot, despite Spinner’s hindbrain screaming about deadfalls, remains solid and level.  

“…Shigaraki?” he finally prompts. Of all the times for Shigaraki to get into one of his remote moods.

“No.” Shigaraki’s voice floats back at last.  “This is a strong darkness.  And the path branches a lot.  I think it’s a test, not a trap, and I’ve been dreaming about the answers for months. We’ll get what we’re after or we won’t, but either way, we’re almost there.”

So they press on.  

The farther along they get, the more Spinner’s skin crawls at the feel of the air—colder sometimes, then warmer, air currents that smell rank with rot caressing over his face and leaving him shuddering.  Shigaraki pauses, now and again, to steer them around hazards he doesn’t explain.  Once, Spinner steps on something that pops under his feet—for a second, his blood runs frigid and he nearly panics, waiting for a dart or a drop or something, and then his ear catches up with his brain and tells him, Just a bone, that’s all.  As if that’s more reassuring.  

Shigaraki hums under his breath, distracted, and tugs them onwards.

It’s not like it’s the first time Spinner’s had to deal with magical darkness.  It’s not the first temple he’s gone through.  Not the first time he had to follow someone on faith, either, though more often that’s been Toga, chipperly going on about pressure plates and sliding stones and false floors.  But before, it’s only lasted for a few seconds.  As long as it takes for Sako to dispel it, for Dabi to light up something stronger, for Shigaraki—who sees in the dark like he was born in it, and whose eyes glow brilliant red in even natural darkness—to pinpoint the caster and reel off one of his eldritch blasts that can knock the wind out of pretty much anyone.

It hasn’t been like this. Seconds stretching into minutes in sable air so thick it crawls against his scales, muffling the sound of their footsteps and all but swallowing the periodic mumble from Shigaraki, whose voice is so low Spinner can’t even tell if he’s speaking Common or that witchtongue he casts in.  

It’s like being buried, he thinks, and has to swallow back bile, squeezing Shigaraki’s hand tighter.  But the image doesn’t leave him as the air presses in: each breath another spadeful of dirt strewn over a grave.  Each step another stone piled on a cairn.

“That’s starting to hurt, Spinner.”  The voice crashes over him in a cold wave and he gasps at the shock of it despite himself. “You never said you were afraid of the dark.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Spinner chokes out, voice hoarse.  “This isn’t regular dark and you know it.”

Does he, though?  The thought arrives in his head like a stranger. Does he even know the difference between real dark and this?  

With only Shigaraki’s hand to tether him to reality, Spinner almost can’t identify the thought as his own, wonders for a second if it might not be, but if there’s something in here with them projecting thoughts into his head, they’re in even more trouble than he guessed.

Shigaraki hums in an unconvinced—and really unhelpful—sort of way, and suddenly stops.  

“Ah.”  

Spinner gargles a questioning noise and Shigaraki’s voice returns, flat and affectless.  

“Found it.  Up ahead.”  He walks forward purposefully and Spinner follows, teeth gritted, focusing on believing, really believing, in the existence of a level and unobstructed floor.  

They walk for longer than Spinner would think it necessary for something in range of Shigaraki’s darkvision.   He can see farther in the dark than he can in the light, Toga told him once, laughing, and seeing as Shigaraki was just a regular human and not some kind of nocturnal or subterranean creature, Spinner had written it off.  Now the words come back with a mocking edge.  

Finally, Shigaraki lifts their hands, bringing them to a stop.  A pause, then his fingers rap across Spinner’s knuckles.  “Need this back now.”

Spinner does not whine a protest—his throat’s way too locked up for that.  Still, it takes a minute of internal browbeating to force himself to unclench his claws.  They’re standing in front of something now; he can feel the nearness of it, maybe from how Shigaraki’s voice sounded bouncing off of it.  A big new barrier that they have to figure out, and there’s no reason for them to split up now.  No reason for Shigaraki to just disappear on him.  

Shigaraki extricates his hand as soon as Spinner’s pried his fingers loose enough, and Spinner swallows, easing in closer and concentrating on the sound of Shigaraki’s clothes rustling, of his questing hands thumping lightly against stone and sliding stutter-rough over the surface.  

After a minute of prodding, he falls still.  Spinner waits for something to happen, but there’s just more silence, and then Shigaraki’s voice, just a thin whisper.  

“Spinner.”

“Mm?”  

“Whatever we find in here…”

“I’m not backing out on you,” Spinner says, as if that’s even an option right now, anyway.  

“It’s not that.”  A beat.  “Thank you.  For that. But what I meant was—whatever’s in here has been serving a devil for a long time.  So don’t volunteer information you don’t have to.”

Something rocks back, a counterweight falling or a tumbler settling back in a casing, and a mumbled, “Oh,” is all Spinner can manage before the barrier cracks open.  

After a longer time in total darkness than he ever wants to repeat, or preferably even think about again after today, the light dazzles his eyes, bright enough that Spinner winces back, bringing up his arm and trying to squint out from under it.  Shigaraki huffs in annoyance but stalks forward anyway, leaving Spinner to stumble after him lest the door close between them.

Shigaraki stops once they’re over the threshold, giving Spinner time to blink rapidly until his eyes adjust. It doesn’t take long—as bright as it seemed at first, inside the room, the light is pale, watery green, an ambient marsh fire flickering that permeates thinly across yet another empty hall.  This one’s much smaller than the atrium, a double line of pillars lining a path up to a raised dais set in a stone alcove.  There’s—a throne up there, because of course there’s a throne up there, its surface glimmering a wet black.  Writing marks the wall behind it, two curving arcs of even, scored-in letters.  He doesn’t recognize the words, but the alphabet looks the same as the pair of runes carved into the insides of Shigaraki’s wrists, and it gives him the creeps there, too.  

“So what now?”  

He pulls his eyes away to shoot a glance at Shigaraki but even as he registers Shigaraki scratching at his wrist, his skin chalk-white, some instinct crawls up Spinner’s spine and keeps him turning.  His eyes land on the temple guardian knight from the second layer, standing—impossibly—barely twenty feet away from them, just inside the door.

Spinner’s mouth opens on a sharp inhale and the guardian vanishes.  

Short-range, Spinner’s brain gibbers.  Line of sight.  Four directions.  One down because it’s the one the guardian approached from.  One down because it’d put him right in Shigaraki’s path. So one of the sides, then, and Spinner draws his other sword, sweeping his arm out and stepping wide behind Shigaraki’s back, pushing him into a staggering step sideways just as the guardian reappears to Spinner’s right, taking one easy step in, right into range for both of them.

The man’s hands move in a blur of arcane gestures and gleaming steel; the frisson of magical energy accompanies the fleet sting of the guardian’s blade slicing a furrow down Spinner’s arm. Behind him, Shigaraki hisses in surprise and pain.  Off-balance, Spinner all but trips into the Web spell as it lashes itself into existence around them, clinging fiercely to the walls, the pillars, and to Spinner and Shigaraki both.

“Again?!” Shigaraki rasps, indignant.  “Spinner, tell me you dodged this bullshit child’s play spell!”  

“He did something with his dagger!” Spinner snaps back, pulling for all he’s worth at the web—it is a pitifully low-level spell, but apparently that doesn’t matter when it’s being cast by goddamn temple guardians like the one easing back into position in front of Spinner.

He still hasn’t fully recovered from the number Dabi and Toga did on him before.  His blue and red finery hangs charred and tattered, and a discolored stain marks the spot where Toga put a dagger between his ribs before he even saw her coming.  He’s not much more than on his feet, but that’s bad enough, considering Spinner was pretty sure up to about fifteen seconds ago that he was dead.

“Good instincts,” the man tells him, voice soft.  “But not quick enough, villain.  We guardians have been trying to get into this chamber to purify it for years now, with no success.  Thank you for opening it for us.”

Shigaraki goes still behind him, a dangerous stillness that would be more heartening if the eldritch knight hadn’t already locked down his movements and gotten out of Shigaraki’s line of sight.  

“We don’t know what the demon king promised you, Shigaraki Tomura, but be assured that it was a lie.  And Iguchi Shuuichi, please cease struggling.”  The man reaches a hand down into a pouch at his belt.  “A warlock’s promises are no more to be trusted than that of his master’s.  You’re not the one who’s been dabbling in forbidden magic, so don’t make this worse for yourself and you might still walk away with a fairly light sentence.”

Rage bubbles up in Spinner’s throat, a taste of bile with a familiar acidic bite, boiling up the back of his throat for release.  He should swallow it back like always, but—  

Four years, and I never told them, he thinks, glaring at the guardian.  I didn’t want to have to tell them like this, but—not here.  Not when we’re this close!

He opens his jaw and breathes out all his fury and frustration in one long, hateful burst of poison gas.  

It takes the guardian full in the face.  The man reels backward, breath rattling in his lungs, arm raising to his suddenly streaming eyes.  The web doesn’t dissipate on the spot—there’s not quite enough punch in Spinner’s ancestral breath weapon for that—but it sags away from the near wall and Spinner shrugs himself out of it with the ease of stripping off a shirt.  

Blades still in hand, he’s going in for the follow-through, the guardian already recovering, when the light in the room—pulses. A heartbeat flicker dims and brightens the illumination, and suddenly there’s movement in the shadows between the pillars, the sea glass light thrown back in the same liquid gleam as the throne.  

«How—unsightly.  A champion of good, in this place?»  A burbling laugh follows.  «I’ll have you leave now, hero.  The successor and I have work to do.»

The knight tries to leap past Spinner, eyes on the still-restrained Shigaraki.  Spinner hisses defiance and lashes out, curving his short sword into the man’s path.  The blow catches under the guardian’s arm and Spinner throws his weight into shoving him back, halting the advance.  

And then the shadows are on them.

Gargoyles? Spinner thinks, but they’re way too big for that; he’s fought shorter ogres.  And these things definitely aren’t ogres; their skin looks jet-hard, and though a few of them have the steel-bellied paunch for the thicker sort of giant-kin, the others are all sharp-hewn musculature. They all have the same eyes, though, fixed stares as unblinking as serpents’.  Spinner falls back as close to Shigaraki as he can without chancing the web again, and two of the beasts circle around him in a way that he would peg as a hunting prowl if their gazes weren’t turned towards the guardian.

For his part, the hero takes one look around at the new developments and raises his free hand to cast—Expeditious Retreat; Spinner’s seen that one from Sako often enough, and then the man’s gone, bolting through the exit and into the darkness beyond.

The voices chuckles again, a reverberation in it that, given the mireland phosphorescence, tells Spinner with an unavoidable mortal dread, Undead.  

«After him, my darlings. And one of you close the door after you.»  

There’s a blackwater surge and the creatures streak out in an eerily silent rush.  As requested, the one at the rear of the pack—one of the ones that had been circling Spinner—stops long enough to pull the door closed behind it, yellow eyes holding Spinner’s gaze until the slab cuts it out of sight.

He doesn’t exhale in relief just yet, but turns to Shigaraki, who’s regained his footing, brushing off fraying remnants of spiderweb in annoyance.  Spinner steps up beside him, weapons lowered but still out.  

Shigaraki glares around the room. “Well?”  

The light flickers again and starts to coalesce, leeching out of the rest of the room as it draws inward toward the throne.  A shape begins to form—not in the throne, but standing at its right hand—a short, round man with blank white eyes and a thick mustache, his skin glowing the same sickly shade the light had.  The same runes Shigaraki bears on his wrists are carved right into his forehead, where they burn with a weird black light that gives Spinner the horrible feeling his brain’s trying to rebel against his eyeballs.  The spirit’s dressed in tatters of white, a stark contrast to Shigaraki’s close-cut black.

«You’re an imperious one.»  He laughs again, the pitch high and mad.  «As it should be!  Ahh, let me look at you.»  

He blinks in out of existence, plunging the chamber into a locked-vault darkness that nearly has Spinner grabbing for Shigaraki’s hand again, but reappears just a few seconds later, right in front of them.  From there, he circles around them, milky gaze combing up and down Shigaraki, his mouth moving weirdly out of sync with the torrent of words he lets loose.

«Red eyes, I see, and hair all gone white; I don’t suppose you were born that way.  Those scars and abrasions—did you fight against it for so long? You’re a bit scrawny, but I suppose it can’t easy, getting this far.  And ahh, you have the Tome!  Marvelous, marvelous!  I trust you have the ritual inscribed there?  Your cicatrices, where are they?»

Shigaraki flicks up one wrist and doesn’t even flinch when the spirit wraps glowing fingers around it, leaning in close and peering at his scar, nodding rapidly.  The touch leaves a livid mark, raised on his skin like a scald-wound.

“So you’re the guardian,” Shigaraki says when the ghost finally pulls away.  “You’re supposed to help me take the next step.”  

«Yes!  I am called Garaki Kyudai, Rector of the Great Vault and Pedagogue of the Way.»

Garaki?  Spinner mouths the name, not a whisper of voice in it, but still the spirit wheels on him, the gaze knotting Spinner’s stomach with the same revulsion the rotting air out in the hallway had.  

«Garaki!  A namesake of the great demon king, much as his successor bears, I’m sure.»  Garaki circles Spinner now, regarding him as closely as he had Shigaraki moments before. «And you, dragon-kin?»

“Dragon-kin?”  Spinner winces at the bite in Shigaraki’s tone.  He’s the smartest person in their party, even smarter than their actual wizard.  Of course he noticed something when Spinner breathed poison gas all over an enemy five feet behind his back.  “Is that what that was before?”  

«A perfectly-timed dose of noxious effluvium,» Garaki says approvingly.  «He’s a rather fine specimen, successor.»

Shigaraki side-eyes Spinner, stare lingering on his mouth and his claws before finally moving up to meet his gaze.  “He always told us he was a lizardman,” he says, the words accusing.

Garaki laughs, an explosion of incredulous delight.  «A lizardman!  He must be quite the convincing speaker.  No, he’s an emerald-blooded cur if ever I’ve seen one.  But I suppose if any wyrm-born were going to pass for the lizardfolk, it would be a green.  They don’t have the horns the other breeds do, you know.  In fact—»

“There was a crusade against dragonborn twenty years ago,” Spinner bites out at last, tired of being talked over and irked at the snort Shigaraki had made at the convincing speaker bit.  “I don’t make a habit of telling people.”  

Shigaraki’s eyebrows go up as the ghost tuts.  After a second, his eyes narrow, a familiar measuring expression overtaking his face.

“…You’ve been with us this long and you never used a breath weapon?”  

Spinner shifts in place.  There’ve been a few times over their journeys when he’s been pushed to it.  In Mydsos, when the air was full of so much stinking miasma anyway that he didn’t think anyone would notice.  When everyone had gotten separated in the Cato labyrinths.  When it was just him and Jin that time against that sahuagin chief, and Jin was such a shitty swimmer that he could barely keep facing in the same direction moment to moment.  But this—it felt different.  

But we were so close.  I couldn’t let—

He coughs and forces himself to say, “Only as a last resort.”  

Shigaraki looks—impressed. It’s not an expression Spinner’s seen on his face much, and recognizing it now sends a touch of warmth through him, despite the ghost’s chill presence.  It lasts just a moment, then Shigaraki turns back to the rector.

“Are we done with the inspection now?” he demands.  “I’ve got things to get back to.”  

«Oh, “things.”  I see, I see.»  The spirit’s voice drops into a canny tone.  «Well, you may wish to tell “things” that you’ll be here for a while yet. Taking the power of the demon king isn’t so simple as just planting yourself in his throne.»

“Then I need to get a message out. We can make one of your weird pets do it when they get back.”

«Weird pets!  They’re wonderful creations, I’ll have you know. Loyal beyond death—you might have a need for such loyalty yourself one day.»  

Shigaraki steps between Spinner and Garaki even as the ghost’s attention turns.  “Don’t look at my dragonborn,” he says, a piercing command.  “Look at me.”

Garaki and Spinner both do, Garaki chuckling, Spinner’s heartbeat a stuttered pulse in his throat.  And as Shigaraki starts to lay out a plan, they both listen.

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

Shigaraki: Warlock with a Fiend patron (AFO) Spinner: Ranger, Hunter archetype (sorry about your class sucking so hard in 5E, Spin) Toga: Rogue, Assassin archetype Dabi: Sorcerer, Wild Magic origin (frequently at odds with Tomura over efficient use of one’s spell slots) Mr. Compress: Wizard, Conjuration school Magne: Fighter/Bard, Champion archetype and College of Valor, respectively Twice: Cleric, Life domain (also two levels of Paladin, shhhh; he never broke any oaths if he never advanced far enough to make any)

[threelivesthreeworlds]

anonymous asked   :    Hate that fanfiction/drama reviews misunderstand Yehua & Lian Song. Yehua is commonly portrayed as selfish/insensitive (regarding his past mistakes), which undermines his real personality. Western audiences also obsess over physicality, which bypasses the beauty/innocence of the romance. Sorry for ranting. I can relate to Lian Song, depression-wise.  (1/2)

Hey, same depressed anon here. Given that most other sites on this series follow those painful tropes, you guys are really a breath of fresh air in the fandom. I especially love(and am very relieved) how Lian Song is turning out completely different to people's assumptions about him. I know I can count on you to preserve my interpretation of the characters.  (2/2)

     (ADMIN RO)   :   We the admins have largely been unable to find a lot of fanfiction prominently featuring Yehua or Lian Song in general on our side of the fandom, but we’re sorry you’re having a bad experience with portrayals! 

     As a person who does occasionally take initiative to portray these characters in fan-derivative formats, however, I do think that Yehua has his insensitive and selfish sides. It’s the way he’s raised from a very young age, which manifests itself even so early as when in their childhood, Sujin used to come sit at his desk - he literally obliterates her out of his peripherals and just regards her existence like a brush rack. 

     That tunnel vision came from, most likely, Tianjun’s philosophy on raising future sovereigns, which is that to be the perfect sovereign Yehua’s supposed to be largely emotionless and weigh pros and cons and gains and losses over feelings. There’s also a lack of, presumably, a lot of social interaction that isn’t based on either academia or politics. Strategically, I think Yehua’s thought process, even applied to love and feelings, is very much “this is the best thing to do in this scenario, and therefore the right thing,” and I think only when the results come out badly is when he realizes it may not have been the right thing, and even then he may not understand necessarily where he went wrong.

     So, I think it’s reasonable in the aftermath of his mistakes for him to do badly. And at that point in time his primary goal was to hold on to Qian - given that he had already lost her once. So, understandably, a lot of it doesn’t come out until later. Now, is this still in fact, selfish? Yes. Is it for more complicated reasons than just Yehua is a Selfish Person and the Worst? Also yes. It’s really a balance, and I’m sorry that your reading material has not been hitting that balance.

     As for the topic of physicality - that is different between the couples of each book, I think. As a writer, one of the big rules I personally follow is that anything that goes into the final cut of the draft has to have meaning. It has to matter in some significant way, and the same goes for affectionate or sexual scenes. Now I don’t know how everyone else views it, but viewing it from this perspective, I think the physicality of the relationship, specifically for Yehua and Qian - it’s an “in,” if you will, to their romance, the same way Yehua moving to the fox cave and integrating himself into Qian’s life and taking her on walks and cooking her food is an “in.” 

     Their love is very much a “walking along with you for a while and suddenly realized we love each other” kind, and for Qian, because she’s been going at it alone for so long and because she has had her trust broken before, she definitely needed to get used to the idea of having someone, of loving someone, of existing in the same space as that someone and regarding him not as an outsider but as family, as someone she loves and trusts and can rely on. And so narratively, the physicality becomes important. It becomes sort of the symbol and metaphor for intimacy, for trust, for, bridging their gap and both getting used to and putting down their defenses in regards to loving each other. I always say if the romance is good and well-structured, then the physicality can only add to the depth and meaning of that love. I think in this instance, Tang Qi is very much successful. 

     Thank you very much for your kind words regarding our interpretations of the characters! On this blog we are always trying to fill in character motivations as deeply and three dimensionally as possible while not obliterating their flaws. It’s nice to know that we are succeeding, at least to some degree! 

     (ADMIN LIN) : Now that Admin Ro has addressed Yehua, we’re going to get into the nitty-gritty of Lian Song. Jk jk. We don’t quite know what you’re referring to when you say painful tropes in reference to Lian Song. If it’s how he is portrayed as a playboy - that is in fact not a fandom creation, TQ herself has explained that he is in an author’s note of Lotus Step’s and how it differs from the typical brand. 

Admin Ro is kind enough to do the translation of the author’s note for me. 

Also, I'm not trying to speak up for Lian San, but I'm curious - have you all forgotten he's a playboy? From the start his character setting has never been The Good Man, so, to everyone who asks why he's flirting with her with no intention of marrying her, flirting with her with no intention of marrying her is completely normal for him. Have you all forgotten the beauties that come and go in Yuanji Palace? He has always been the not assertive but not refusing and definitely not responsible Third Highness ahahaha.

For a playboy to go for a beauty that's his type without any care is an easy thing. To debate and consider her interests for a long time is the real action that's different from his usual behavior. This action shows that he feels differently about this person. If they were fighting for a day of pleasure, then what's the difference between Cheng Yu and the beauties that pass through Yuanji Palace?

         However, if you meant there was other interpretation of him out there, we’re definitely sorry you’ve seen those. He definitely does struggle with depression-like feelings, although the mentality also ties to Buddhism, so we believe it’s a mixture of both that the author is showcasing with him. As someone who suffers a similar form of depression, he’s a refreshing take on it. It’s not the typical sad-depression, it’s just an emptiness but still existing and still doing things, even if he switches through 3 million hobbies on any given day. 

        Now mind you, majority of which we talk about Lian Song on this blog takes place during Lotus Step and 50,000 years predating what you’ve witnessed in the variations of him in the dramas. Those are still valid parts of him. Especially regarding Cheng Yu, which James Li (Lian Song from both dramas) has said in an interview their relationship is something like 50% friends and 50% lovers. 

         There is also the serious, decisiveness in which you see when he’s advises Yehua on things. Then there is suggestions Lian Song makes to Yehua, such as the ones that lead to Yehua “meeting” Su Su a second time, this being in his human form. His advice with love is odd, but it’s never done out of his understanding of situations. And his understanding of love, which is shaky at this point in time and that neither admin can say what it is exactly yet in Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms or Pillow Book, because we haven’t had time to sit with him in either timeline beyond him being melancholy over Cheng Yu when she won’t look at him during Bai Feng Jiu’s sword case and earlier in the novel having been making the saber for Cheng Yu that required some help from Donghua Dijun. 

          As it comes to physicality in reference to Lian Song and Cheng Yu - their love story is a bumpy trail, that we still don’t know the full extent. However, if there is any more sexual tension between them, it won’t be appropriate to adapt that aspect of them as it’s a heavy tension. And they are required, by the universe in the future, to have a child. So, once again, Lian Song is not misinterpreted when it comes to these aspects. This doesn’t take away from the romantic elements - sexuality and romance can coexist. They most certainly do within all the couples of this series, these two however are currently the most prominent of the couples so far. 

[fyrapartnersearch]

Looking for some sci-fi shenanigans!

Obligatory long post ahead warning: this post is quite long and I know it may be intimidating to some readers but please don’t let it put you off if you’d still like to rp with me :)

Hello ladies, gents and fellow rpers. After having a writing blast and seeing how I’ve got room for some more partners I’ve decided to come back in search of some partners who are interested in what I’m looking for.I’ve got a good ten or so odd years of rping experience under my belt but any potential partners do not necessarily have to have the same experience, they simply need to fit under these three things:

-third person only with correct spelling, grammar and punctuation.

- at least one small (no less than seven lines) paragraph per post as well as being willing to write more if the situation calls for it. Please do not contact me intending to give me only small paragraphs with each response as the above is simply the bare minimum I’ll accept if there’s not much going on in the rp that warrants a full paragraph.

-no one liners, one worders, script talk, poorly written sentences or just laziness in general.

This isn’t terribly much to ask for as picky as it sounds.

An important thing I shall mention is that NSFW (i don’t fade to black nor do I care when the smut happens. Just please don’t leave me once the smut has happened like lots of people seem to unfortunately do) and dark themes are a thing that occur in all my rp’s so I require you to at least be eighteen before you reach out to me. I will not accept anyone younger than 18 since I myself am in my early twenties. Underaged characters are also a no go as well. Please know that I’m in the eastern Australian time zone but almost any time zone Is compatible for me as I am awake at very odd hours. Another important thing I shall add is that you must be able to post at least once or more a day and if I don’t get any response after two weeks then I shall simply move on (only exception is if you notify me beforehand as to why you may not be able to post for a while. I’m not that vicious).

I only rp as male characters, as it’s simply my preference, I do MxM or FxM pairings. I will not double and I do not play multiple characters. I don’t do sub/dom dynamics when it comes to any aspect of the relationship. My characters are also non human (they’re aliens since this is a sci-fi rp after all) but what species your character is doesn’t matter to me at all as long as it’s not some god modded Mary Sue. Please remember that alien simply means a creature not from earth. Aliens can have fur, scales, feathers, etc, depending on where they come from. An alien with fur or scalies is not a furry or a scalie and please do not refer to them as such as it’s rude to label someone’s character as something they’re not. I will not write with someone who will insist that the theory of chimpanzees and humans unable to crossbreed should apply to hybrid characters regardless of whether they’re alien/alien or human/alien. This is fiction, not reality. Please also do not control my characters or dictate their actions. My characters are also premade and only have descriptions, I don’t do face claims or pics. I also do not care if you make a character up on the spot.

Please remember that this is a sci-fi rp and that I will not accept requests to do fandoms or any genre that doesn’t fit within the category of sci-fi. i will not accept a character that has no place in a sci-fi rp either like a dragon,harpy,demon, elf or some other fantasy creature.

Forced:

“there’s no such thing as a bad person. Only bad choices.” Is a saying that is older than time itself. For many who are forced into a position where they have no other choice but to put their morals aside and do as they’re told, this is all too true. A space farer is captured by criminals and forced to choose between death or working as the criminals captain’s personal assistant. That means every order has to be obeyed and every rule must be followed or consequences will be dealt by force. As time passes and life go ons, the captured spacer starts to see his predicament in a different light.

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the captured spacer. You will be playing the captain.)

Forbidden romance:

aliens and humans are forbidden from associating with one another in any way that isn’t political. Whilst the two races have put aside enough of their differences to coexist in their own little pockets of space, not everyone is accepting of the idea that the two different species could live together as one, let alone ever simply just coexist peacefully together without insisting that alien planets and human planets are to be kept seperate. To trespass on the strictly human or alien occupied planets is a crime that few dare to commit. What starts out as a simple act of one sided rebellion and show of courage turns into an unanticipated adventure.

(Important point of notice, I shall be playing the alien. I’m open to this also being an alien X alien pairing.)

The hunter and the hunted:

bounty hunting was one of the few illegal professions in the galaxy that made any trouble you got into for participating in the act of killing or kidnapping someone for worth it depending on who it was you’d been given the task of tracking down. Many bounties were more profitable alive of course since it cut back on many of the legal troubles one could face if caught with a dead body. A galaxy renowned bounty hunter has been tasked with taking down one of the roughest and most wanted criminals known to man and alien with the orders to return them dead or alive. Will they succeed or fail like many before them have?

(Important point of notice: I shall be playing the criminal. You shall be playing the bounty hunter.)

Space criminals and the law:

humans and aliens have been living amongst each other side by side ever since humanity dared to venture beyond the Milky Way and made first contact with aliens. With the solar system no longer being man’s only playground other planets were quickly colonised under the new alliance between extraterrestrials and Homo sapiens. Whether you were an alien, human or a hybrid did not matter in the known galaxies. All that mattered was who you were. Not everyone took to the integration very well (there were numerous protests on both sides) but most people were willing to share in the hopes of peace. Not everyone had good intentions though……

Trouble in the alien kingdom:

the planet of (insert generic planet name here) was one of prosperity, hardship and wealth. The kingdom of (insert generic kingdom name here) was ruled by a king and a queen whose heir was betrothed to a rival planet in the hopes that a political marriage would prevent another war from happening. Only problem was that no one could see the rival planets true plans….all but one. Unfortunately no ones going to listen to a deranged commoner who probably may not even be telling the truth. What’s one to do when no one will listen?

Exile:

The wind howled as thunder crashed and shrieked all around the abandoned cargo ship. Rain pelted the metal hull, turning the ground into a cold, treacherously slippery and muddy shallow river. The ship itself had crashed into the planet countless centuries ago and was slowly being reclaimed by the environment. Plants grew from cracks in the floor as moss and vines decorated the walls. A figure sat miserably hunched in what was once the cockpit of the ship, their only shelter from the raging elements outside but not from the storm that raged inside of them. The figure leapt to their feet as the sounds of footsteps in the mud drew closer and they held their breath. Who would dare to venture out here on such a miserable night?

War of the worlds:

humans and aliens were never meant to coexist peacefully with one another. There was too much fear, Too much misinformation and too much bias on both sides for such a thing to have ever been successful. It was the humans fault that the war had started. They were the ones who’d shot down the alien ship that had been packed with specially chosen diplomats that represented each alien race known to the galaxies they dwelled in that had been on their way to earth to negotiate a truce and a plan for peace. They hadn’t even hesitated to shoot the ship full of aliens yet they’d been surprised when war had been declared on the spot. Two races. Two worlds so different yet the same fighting one another for what was either a mistake or intentional murder.

Rehab:

The UGWP alliance (unite the galaxies for the protection of all worlds and for peace alliance) portrayed themselves as calm, charismatic and kind men and women who held only the thoughts of a life together with all species living happily together. They advertised campaigns for inter species jobs, provided information to the public about human/alien interactions and encouraged diversity amongst planets. Their rehabilitation program for troublesome fellows was considered to be a god send to try and cut down on the amount of space related crimes. No one ever questioned what went on beyond the closed doors to the facility, if they did, the UGWP would have their darkest secrets revealed. Something they strove to keep under wraps. When the arrival of a particularly wild prisoner occurs, the threat of their first failure and first escaped prisoner is lurking around the corner.

(Important point of notice: in this rp idea I’d be playing said prisoner, I don’t mind if you choose to be one as well.)

Academy days:

the galaxy alliance and military defence force academy was one of the most respected training academies in the known galaxies. Men, women, aliens, humans and all of those who were in between went there to study, train and, one day if they passed the mentally, emotionally and physically gruelling years of tests, fly and be put in their own squadron. There were approximately six spots to fill on any team and the cadet who suited that spot the most would be given the title of pilot, squad leader, second in command, engineer, gunner and navigator. Each team was similar but unique in what they did. Not everyone gets along though and rivalries grow high during that delicate time between graduating and being put on a team. What happens when the top student and the lonesome outcast with a temper clashes?

Captured:

Space criminals have been around ever since advanced technology allowed others to travel and live in space as if they were living anywhere else. They’re often cunning, tricky to catch and more often than not are clever at disguising themselves whenever those wanted posters come up. It takes skill to be on the wrong side of space law and true talent to get away with it. The galaxy’s current most wanted man has finally been captured by an alliance captain and his crew. Will he beg for mercy? Will he be given a trial before being thrown into a cell to rot or will he be given a chance to turn himself around with some hard labour?

(Important point of notice: I’ll be playing the criminal for this one. You will be the alliance captain)

Enslaved:

imagine living the life of one of the most successful people on the run that could exist. Galaxies trembled at your name. You and your crew swam in wealth and the going was good. Mutiny, sadly and sometimes not sadly, exists on its own accord. One man reflected on this as he was forced to his feet. A collar attached to a chain and electromagnetic handcuffs prevented his escape as he stood for all those who cared to glance as they walked by in the market to see. No one wants to have their only life’s purpose to be to serve another……only sometimes people don’t get that choice.

(Important point of notice: I’ll be playing the slave/servant. You’ll be the master/mistress.)

Betrothed:

for as long as there has been civilisation and leaders, there has been arranged marriages. Arranged marriages, or betrothals as they were more often called, consisted of pairing two people together and making them get married in order to secure ties to another land or another planet. Political marriages benefited everyone but the married pair it always seemed. After all, you couldn’t possibly be happy being married to a complete and utter stranger? How does one who is betrothed build a life of love and prosperity when the one who bears the rings of their union is not the one who also bears their heart?

(Important point of notice: this can go two ways, either our characters are betrothed to each other or one character is betrothed. The idea has endless possibilities)

Invasion:

march 18th in the year of 6079 was the day that the aliens invaded earth. They’d been planning the take over for some time as they came prepared and easily took out Earth’s defence forces. No one knows exactly why the extraterrestrial beings from the outer worlds came to the humble blue and green planet the humans had existed on for millions of years nor did they seem to have any true intentions known other than conquering the planet and taking it for their own. This has led to the belief that all aliens must be the cruel monsters the humans stories have made them out to be. What happens when the actions of one alien puts that to the test?

(Important point of notice: I’m open to having this idea turned around and having the humans invade an alien world to take over.)

The chosen:

The galaxy alliance had chosen its newest crew to serve and protect the known galaxies. Five young cadets who’d graduated at the top of their classes and would hopefully mark the start of a new generation of spacers and heroes. The leader of the new crew has yet to be decided and tensions are high because of this. Can differences be put aside and acceptance shown? Or will nothing but chaos ensue?

The Walking wounded:

when one worked as a galaxy defence force member, they were on the frontline of everything. Every battle. Every loss. Every victory. Every struggle that the force went through they had to be there and follow the rules. You could not kill an unarmed person regardless of whether they were hostile or not. You could not turn down a plea for help even when there was reasons to suspect something was amiss. In simple terms: you simply couldn’t do anything that would make your morals be questioned. What happens when even the captain says to leave all those rules and everything you were taught by the door when faced with someone who seems to be the exception to the rule. What’s the right thing to do not by them but the entire galaxy?

Stowaway:

the galaxies were once a place of freedom and exploration. A place where you had no limits as to where you wanted to go. Now thanks to new laws, permits are required to access certain systems, quadrants and galaxies. Problem is, this permit is unobtainable by the average civilian so many have taken to learning the art of boarding another’s ship and hoping for the best. Discovery is more or less a matter of life and death. What happens when someone is unfortunate enough to be discovered?

Monster:

aliens. Aliens were terrifying beasts that were the monster in every bedtime story the humans told their children to keep them home at night. Many mothers wept when their sons and daughters applied to the space military in order to keep the extra terrestrial scum away from the galaxies they’d claimed as their own. When a human ship crashes on an alien world so far away from human civilisation it may as well not exist to the aliens and a crew member is found lost and alone by a wandering alien, will their fate be decided by a monster? Or a benevolent being?

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the alien in this scenario. I’m also open to the characters situations being swapped around so it’s the alien who crashes.)

On the run:

even on the most modern of planets, life on the lamb can be difficult. There’s authorities to avoid and even more rules to break in the game of survival. No one takes pity on those who have done wrong to the point that they have their face in the paper. Even if it’s not your fault will anyone give you shelter from the harsh cold winds of reality and a biased opinion. What happens when someone does take a chance on a poor wayfaring stranger? Will the wrong doer be turned in or given a new lease on life?

Disgraced:

when one entered the royal guard they took upon themselves an oath that bound them by blood and courage to the dedication of the protection of their king, queen and the kingdoms heirs. They were sworn to protect them from any harm whilst at the same time not allowed to use their position or power to hurt anyone else. When one breaks that oath, they are sent away in disgrace and branded as a traitor who must swear to never return. Life on the run changes people, sometimes for the better…..or for worse.

Space pirates and nobles:

space was a vast starry and endless sea that many voyaged across for the purpose of research, leisure or finding ones destiny. Like any real ocean, it was filled with dangers. The most feared of all was space pirates. Bands of blood thirsty cut throats and scandalous troublemakers whose sole pleasure in life was to steal, kill and take others prisoner against their will. Only pirates dare to do what other criminals would not. When a merchant ship is robbed by pirates what fate will befall the nobles onboard?

Healing wounds, growing love:

winter on the planet of malgor is one that is feared for its extreme weather. Snowstorms could appear out of nowhere and many a traveller had frozen to death whilst trying to make their way from one village to another. It was also a time where people were at their most vulnerable, relying on the winter harvest to feed every mouth that had been born and raised in the kingdom meant no mercy was spared for poor wayfaring strangers. When a kind soul finds a wounded outcast and decides to bring them home, they discover a threat that’s lurking just beyond the borders of their place of protection.

The knight and the heir:

royals could be spoilt. There was no denying that. A life of good food, wealth, the knowledge that they’d be pampered and weighed on hand and foot by servants was more than enough to turn even the most well mannered child into an insufferable brat. The knights tasked with the protection of the future royals knew this all too well. What happens when one particularly gruff, no nonsense knight refuses to bow to the whim of their future ruler and shows them what it means to be a true leader?

The last of a dying breed:

long ago, in a time when nobles, governments and space Pirates ruled the starry seas of space, there was a terrifying race of aliens that were considered to be the most dangerous creatures to have ever lived. When the great wars started up again due to rising tensions, the humans destroyed the planet these aliens lived on to ensure the battlefield was even. The aliens were furious at the death of an entire race and very quickly turned each and every human occupied planet into a warzone littered with their bases and encampments. Only in very small pockets of the universe does this war not exist. What happens when the last member of the species shows up on a small backwater planet?

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the alien who is the last of their kind, you are free to play as a human or the story can be made to suite a scenario where you are also an alien.)

Harden my heart:

once upon a time, there was two friends who were the best of friends that anyone could have ever seen. Two people who had each other’s backs through thick and thin. Two people who supported each other endlessly even if their morals weren’t entirely inline with each other’s. Two friends who swore to never leave each other’s sides. Alas with the time of great growing came changes, the two friends bond had severed and they’d gone their separate ways in life. What happens when they run into each other many years later?

(This idea is one open to brainstorming, anything is possible.)

captain on deck!:

captains weren’t meant to fall in love with their subordinates. They were supposed to be well refined leaders who only mingled with those of a similar status. They represented the people they worked for after all, therefore they had an image that had to be strictly maintained towards the public in order to not be disgraced in any form. Behind closed doors however…..feelings were allowed to be a little more free. Secret lovers were frowned upon but one could take the risk if they were careful. After all, the captains word was law.

yes sir!:

order.serve.fight.lead.mourn.sleep.eat.rethink your life choices and repeat. Such was the ways of a military lifestyle on a world where war seemed to be a permanent occurrence and the leaders of every world trying their best to outspite one another with their relentless attacks that it made one think of how they could improve the boring daily routine they endured each and every day. In the army, you have to be tough if you want to be a leader. You had to be charismatic, strong, cold, incapable of doing anything that would sway you to possibly turn the other cheek and let your comrades be hurt. However, even the most stoic and battle hardened leaders can get lonely despite the fact that attachments to ones comrades outside of anything but friendship are forbidden by an unspoken law.

I need you:

space is a cruel mistress to even those who are experienced with charting her waters. Space, although beautiful, is often the grave of many brave explorers, soldiers and other space faring strangers. When a stranger comes to scavenge parts from a newly crashed ship in the hopes of finding something useful, they come across a familiar face. Old feelings stir and clash with one another when the crash’s survivor awakens and finds out who their rescuer is.

Sooooo….. about those pairings. What has two stars next to it is what I’m going to play if we choose the scenario:

1: enemies to lovers or rivals.

2: **captured criminal** x prison guard or other prisoner.

3: two soldiers from seperate sides falling in love.

4: **academies bad boy/outcast** x top student

5: **low ranking ship crew member/second in command/captured space criminal** x captain.

6: **commoner/rogue/knight/street rat** x prince/princess/king/queen

7: **slave/servant** x master

8: army superior x **lower ranking soldier**

9: married person X unmarried person

10: stowaway x captain

11: nurse x **injured soldier**

12: human x **alien**

PLEASE DO NOT APPROACH ME IF:

1: YOU GHOST AT THE DROP OF A HAT.

2: YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO PUT EFFORT IN TO MEET MY REQUIREMENTS.

I’m open to discussing and potentially mixing these ideas up till we get something that we both like. If you want to learn more about a certain idea tell me the name and I shall expand on it.

The only platforms I rp on are discord,telegram and google hangouts. I will not rp on any other platform other than the ones listed. If you do not have any of those then unfortunately we cannot rp. When you reach out to me requesting for an rp via one of the below platforms In the opening message tell me what idea you liked, why you liked it, give me a little introduction about you and you must put 123 somewhere in your message so that I know you’ve read all of my post, don’t just put “hi wanna rp”. Make it interesting.

My contacts

Discord: crankypurplespacecat#6187

My telegram: Tiberionwars

My hangouts: lleo52560@gmail.com

I look forwards to meeting potential partners.

[elisaenglish]

Simone de Beauvoir on How Chance and Choice Converge to Make Us Who We Are

My life … runs back through time and space to the very beginnings of the world and to its utmost limits. In my being I sum up the earthly inheritance and the state of the world at this moment.

To be alive is to marvel — at least occasionally, at least with glimmers of some deep intuitive wonderment — at the Rube Goldberg machine of chance and choice that makes us who we are as we half-stride, half-stumble down the improbable paths that lead us back to ourselves. My own life was shaped by one largely impulsive choice at age thirteen, and most of us can identify points at which we could’ve pivoted into a wholly different direction — to move across the continent or build a home here, to leave the tempestuous lover or to stay, to wait for another promotion or quit the corporate day job and make art. Even the seemingly trivial choices can butterfly enormous ripples of which we may remain wholly unwitting — we’ll never know the exact misfortunes we’ve avoided by going down this street and not that, nor the exact magnitude of our unbidden graces.

Perhaps our most acute awareness of the lacuna between the one life we do have and all the lives we could have had comes in the grips of our fear of missing out — those sudden and disorienting illuminations in which we recognise that parallel possibilities exist alongside our present choices. “Our lived lives might become a protracted mourning for, or an endless tantrum about, the lives we were unable to live,” wrote the psychoanalyst Adam Phillips in his elegant case for the value of our unlived lives. “But the exemptions we suffer, whether forced or chosen, make us who we are.”

The garland of those exemptions strews our sense of self — our constellating experience of personal identity which, as the poet and philosopher John O’Donohue so incisively observed, “is not merely an empirical process of appropriating or digesting blocks of life.”

No one has captured that ultimate existential awareness more beautifully, nor with greater nuance, than the trailblazing French existentialist philosopher and feminist Simone de Beauvoir (January 9, 1908–April 14, 1986) in her autobiography, All Said and Done (public library).

From the fortunate rostrum of her own long life, De Beauvoir reflects on this constellation of chance and choice:

“Every morning, even before I open my eyes, I know I am in my bedroom and my bed. But if I go to sleep after lunch in the room where I work, sometimes I wake up with a feeling of childish amazement — why am I myself? What astonishes me, just as it astonishes a child when he becomes aware of his own identity, is the fact of finding myself here, and at this moment, deep in this life and not in any other. What stroke of chance has brought this about?”

With an eye to the element of chance and its myriad manifestations, she adds:

“The penetration of that particular ovum by that particular spermatozoon, with its implications of the meeting of my parents and before that of their birth and the births of all their forebears, had not one chance in hundreds of millions of coming about. And it was chance, a chance quite unpredictable in the present state of science, that caused me to be born a woman. From that point on, it seems to me that a thousand different futures might have stemmed from every single movement of my past: I might have fallen ill and broken off my studies; I might not have met Sartre; anything at all might have happened.”

But the most curious part of this perplexity, De Beauvoir notes, is that despite the larger cosmic accident of all life and the chance nature of our particular lives within it, we experience ourselves and our existence as non-accidental — a disconnect that fringes on the free will paradox. She writes:

“Tossed into the world, I have been subjected to its laws and its contingencies, ruled by wills other than my own, by circumstance and by history: it is therefore reasonable for me to feel that I am myself contingent. What staggers me is that at the same time I am not contingent. If I had not been born no question would have arisen: I have to take the fact that I do exist as my starting point. To be sure, the future of the woman I have been may turn me into someone other than myself. But in that case it would be this other woman who would be asking herself who she was. For the person who says “Here am I” there is no other coexisting possibility. Yet this necessary coincidence of the subject and his history is not enough to do away with my perplexity. My life: it is both intimately known and remote; it defines me and yet I stand outside it.”

Considering the precise nature of this “curious object,” De Beauvoir draws on the physics that revolutionised the human understanding of life and reality in her lifetime, and writes:

“Like Einstein’s universe, it is both boundless and finite. Boundless: it runs back through time and space to the very beginnings of the world and to its utmost limits. In my being I sum up the earthly inheritance and the state of the world at this moment.

[…]

And yet life is also a finite reality. It possesses an inner heart, a centre of interiorisation, a me which asserts that it is always the same throughout the whole course. A life is set within a given space of time; it has a beginning and an end; it evolves in given places, always retaining the same roots and spinning itself an unchangeable past whose opening toward the future is limited. It is impossible to grasp and define a life as one can grasp and define a thing, since a life is “an unsummed whole,” as Sartre puts it, a detotalised totality, and therefore it has no being. But one can ask certain questions about it.”

Of course, as De Beauvoir’s American peer and contemporary Susanne Langer has memorably pointed out, our questions invariably shape our answers. But to this central question of whether and to what degree we are contingent upon chance, De Beauvoir offers an answer that radiates the ultimate antidote to regret:

“Chance... has a distinct meaning for me. I do not know where I might have been led by the paths that, as I look back, I think I might have taken but that in fact I did not take. What is certain is that I am satisfied with my fate and that I should not want it changed in any way at all. So I look upon these factors that helped me to fulfill it as so many fortunate strokes of chance.”

Complement this particular fragment of the wholly magnificent All Said and Done with philosopher Rebecca Goldstein on what makes you and your childhood self the same person despite a lifetime of change, then revisit De Beauvoir on freedom, busyness, and why happiness is our moral obligation, vitality and the measure of intelligence, and her daily routine.

Source: Maria Popova, brainpickings.org (6th January 2017)

[iwatchanimeoccasionally]

My Beetlejuice Academia

It’s finally done. Sort of. The first draft is done. I am actually fairly happy with it, though I am super exhausted and can’t make myself stay up long enough to read it, so this is unedited, I will come back tomorrow to edit, and then the revision process will start for transfer to AO3. Therefore, I’m not expecting a single soul to read this, but I want it out there in the real world so it doesn’t can’t keep taking up all the space I have in my brain. 

If you do want to read it, ABSOLUTELY read this warning first. This is based off Beetlejuice, meaning there are themes of death throughout, major character deaths, and themes of suicide and suicidal thoughts/actions. I think that’s all the triggers this needs. Oh yeah, and heavy themes of child abuse. Not BJ’s fault this time Endeavor can burn in hell. 

(Also, I took some liberties with characters to fit better with the plot)

A trunk slams shut on the outskirts of a small town no one has ever cared about before, signaling what should be the beginning of a perfectly normal vacation. A boy and his mom piling into the car without a care in the world, having no clue that this will be the last car ride they ever have together. No one ever told them that just down the street, before they even leave town, the brakes will give out in the car and they will both die in a crash, avoiding hitting a small dog who’s owner always leaves off leash because no one could ever get hurt because of a small dog roaming free in a small town.

Hours later, the duo stumbles into their house, cold and confused but seemingly ok.

“I’m sorry we had to miss your convention, Izuku,” Inko apologizes for the first, but probably not the last, time, breaking the silence.

Izuku turns a blinding smile on his mom and, without any hesitation replies, “Don’t worry about it! I’m just glad we’re ok, that was scary. I thought we were going to die for a second there.” A shiver racks his body then and Inko is quick to the fireplace, wanting to warm her son before he catches something.

Within moments, a fire is going and the two huddle next to it, Inko stating, “Please don’t say things like that. I don’t like thinking about you being hurt, let alone anything worse.”

Humming his recognition, Izuku leans closer to the fire. His brow furrows when he doesn’t feel any warmer, but that’s when he realizes he doesn’t feel particularly cold anyway. Even though he knows he should be, they got soaked from crashing into the river earlier. Even though it’s summer, the sun has gone down and it’s chilly outside so he has to be cold. “Hey Mom,” Izuku starts, unsure of what to even think anymore, “why isn’t the fire hot?”

It takes a second for her to answer, as if she’s just realizing that herself. “I… I don’t know, honey. But I’m not very cold,” she replies, voicing his thoughts. “Do you remember coming home?”

Her question stirs something in Izuku’s brain, but he’s not sure what it is quite yet. What he does know is that he can’t come up with those memories, either. “Did we…” he trails off, not sure how to continue, but one look at his mom makes him think she’s having the same thought.

“You sure did,” a new voice drawls, making both mother and son jump. They whip around to look at the intruder, Inko pushing Izuku behind her instinctively as they do. When they find is a boy, about Izuku’s age if looks are anything to go by, sprawled across their couch. His spiky red hair is hanging off the front and his orange and black boots are kicked up on the back. “Took you a long time to realize you were dead.”

Despite the obvious annoyance in the boy’s voice, Inko steps forward and demands an explanation. “Who are you and what are you doing in our house?”

Red eyes narrow at the pair before he pastes on a fake smile on his blue tinged lips and flips over so he’s sitting up and facing them properly. “The name’s Katsuki. I’m here to teach you guys to be ghosts, or whatever.” By the time he’s finished speaking, the friendly act is already over and Katsuki is already back to scowling at them. “You’re Inko, the kid’s Izuku, and it’s only a matter of time before this house sells. No one will know you’re still here, the living tend to ignore the strange and unusual and all that garbage. And you’re not going to be happy then, seeing as you’re trapped here for the next hundred years. So stop acting like I’m this big bad guy and let me help you keep people out of here.”

“No thank you, Katsuki,” Inko dismisses, “I think we’ll be fine. We don’t need to chase people out, anyway. I’m sure whoever buys the house will be lovely people and we can coexist if need be.” Izuku keeps a careful eye on Katsuki as his mom talks, not liking how the boy’s eyes narrow and his fists clench like he’s already prepared to get in a fight. If he’s being completely honest, he’s glad his mom said no, he’s nervous about this angry looking boy.

Katsuki takes a step forward and, just for a moment, Izuku swears he sees blood on the boy’s temples before it disappears when Katsuki heaves a deep sigh. “Whatever you say, losers. Just say my name three times when you change your minds and I’ll see if I still want to help you.” Turning to leave, Katsuki casts one glance over his shoulder and, with a smirk, points out, “By the way, your son’s on fire.”

Izuku jumps and looks down at himself, panicking when he realizes that to be the truth and both Midoriya’s frantically pat his body to put the fires out. By the time they finish, Katsuki is long gone.

“Please never call him back,” Izuku requests once they are a little more settled. “He’s kinda creepy.”

Inko smiles and nods, “Of course. He could be dangerous and you’ve already been hurt enough.” Izuku doesn’t like the hurt that flashes across his mother’s face before she excuses herself and goes upstairs.

“Mom?” he calls after her, wanting to make sure everything’s ok.

She pauses halfway up the stairs but doesn’t turn back toward Izuku, “It’s ok, Izuku. As long as we’re trapped here, we might as well just act like we’re still alive.”

-------------------

It’s all slamming doors and raised voices when the Todorokis move in. Shouto wouldn’t normally react so violently, scared of how his father might react, but he was just ripped away from the only family he’s ever known and he’s furious.

At least when he yells, “I hate you for bringing me here! I’ll find a way to get back to Mom!” before running upstairs and slamming his door with all his might when they first move in, the movers are still there so he knows there won’t be repercussions for a few hours. By then maybe he’ll have slipped out and be on his way back home.

One glance out the window tells him otherwise. Enji is back outside, pretending to supervise the workers when, in reality, Shouto knows he’s just watching the window of the room he assigned Shouto to make sure there are no escape attempts. Feeling bold, Shouto almost wants to try anyway, but all his fight is slowly leaving his system. As hopelessness sets in, Shouto collapses onto the floor, at least taking this opportunity to sleep before punishment arrives.

He’s awoken what must be hours later, judging by the low light from the moon coming in his window. When he does wake up, he’s up in an instant, even though he’s not sure what woke him. But then he hears it. The steps stomping toward him. Threatening pain behind each one.

Fear floods his system. He knows what Enji is capable of, but he’s never had the full force directed at only him before. He clearly wasn’t thinking earlier, not considering the fact that he has no form of protection or even distraction anymore.

Shouto refuses to make himself small, though, standing with his back straight and his arms at his side by the time his door is flung open. It doesn’t take much for him to realize how furious his father is. He definitely doesn’t need the quiet but menacing, “Downstairs. Now,” thrown at him as if words can be used as deadly weapons.

Smarter now than when they first arrived, Shouto ducks his head, averting eye contact, and follows Enji. He doesn’t bother looking around as the walk, knowing that this house isn’t for living in. It’s just a place to sleep and train, that’s all Shouto’s life is. And he uses the word “train” lightly. It’s not like his life is leading up to a black belt championship in anything. No, he’s supposed to take Enji’s place as a realtor, buying entire towns to ruin by selling them to the rich like Enji plans to do with this town. He stops himself from thinking what the training really is, though, not wanting to dwell on it when it’s so close to happening.

He’s not sure why, but Shouto’s surprised when Enji leads him into a fully prepared training room. Though it makes sense, of course Enji would make sure it was set up first thing, he needs to make sure Shouto knows what he did wrong today.

That surprise is his downfall, though. He doesn’t even see the first hit coming until Enji’s fist is in his stomach and he’s doubled over, already unable to breath and needing to puke. “You should’ve avoided that, Shouto,” Enji scolds, nearly spitting on his son in shame. “I’ve trained you better, you can’t be taken down by the first hit.”

Even as he’s scolding him, Enji keeps hitting Shouto, never giving him a chance to recover. First it’s an elbow to the spine, knocking Shouto to the floor when he’s already having trouble staying on his feet. Then it’s a kick to the ribs when he slowly pushes himself up onto all fours, knocking him back down. Shouto almost wants to just stay down, but he knows that would just infuriate Enji even more. So he keeps trying to get up and Enji just keeps knocking him down, scolding all the while that Shouto should be better than that.

It’s only when Shouto can’t keep pushing himself back up that Enji gets to the real heart of the matter. He puts his foot on Shouto’s wrist, putting enough pressure down to hurt, to threaten, but not enough to do any real lasting damage. “Never embarrass me like that again, do you hear me, boy?” Enji growls and Shouto wants to cry out from the pain in his hand, but he knows how dangerous it is to show weakness to his father. He forgets to reply, though, which is another big problem. Enji steps down harder and Shouto’s sure somethings got to give soon. “I said. Do. You. Hear. Me.”

Shouto drags in a deep breath and then says in his most convincing voice, “Yes sir!”

The pressure is finally relieved and Shouto sees Enji walk away out of the corner of his eye. “Good,” the man grunts as he leaves, “you have more training tomorrow. Go to bed.”

It takes an hour for him to drag himself upstairs back to his room, and he’s so exhausted by that point that he doesn’t even process the voices trying to talk to him before they remember that he can’t hear them.

------------

“We have to do something to help him!” Izuku cries, desperate for this boy that he doesn’t even know.

Inko nods and paces the attic, the only space safe from the new family in their home. “I know. But they can’t see us, so I don’t know what to do,” Inko agrees, just as lost as her son on what to do with these frantic emotions.

Izuku’s mind instantly flashes to the blonde boy from before, wondering if Katsuki could help them. But he shakes that thought away, sure that anything Katsuki would do would only make things worse for Shouto. “We could try haunting them. Maybe we could distract his dad enough that he won’t hurt Shouto anymore?” Izuku suggests even though he doesn’t have the slightest clue how he’s supposed to go about haunting people.

The night is spent trying to figure out haunting techniques, even occasionally going downstairs to Enji’s room, only to return minutes later when there is absolutely no reaction from the sleeping man. Maybe being able to wake someone up comes later, they’ll just have to wait and see.

The next morning, Izuku starts relatively small. He just waits around until Enji has his breakfast prepared and is sitting down to eat, Shouto trying to silently gather breakfast in the kitchen and not draw his father’s attention. Seeing the boy trying to eat, Izuku deliberately waits a minute to give him a chance to get something gathered, and then. He just knocks Enji’s cup of orange juice on the older man’s lap.

“What the hell!” Enji yells as soon as it happens, jumping up and tossing the newspaper he was previously perusing onto the table. Enji looks around furiously, but Shouto fled the area as soon as he heard his father yell, escaping unseen and free of suspicion of somehow being behind the prank. Enji kicks the table in rage, muttering something about it being crooked, and stomps out of the dining room to go shower.

Pride wells in Izuku’s chest when he goes to tell his mother of his success.

His trek is stopped on the second floor when a hand stops just shy of landing on his forearm. Izuku nearly jumps, even more shocked and confused when he follows the arm upward, eventually seeing Shouto looking directly at him. “I don’t know what you are, but that was probably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” Shouto says, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Yo- You can see me?” Izuku questions, even though the answer is already clear. Shouto simply raises an eyebrow and nods in response. “But. How? The living aren’t supposed to be able to see the dead. Something about not seeing the strange and unusual?” Izuku racks his brain for Katsuki’s exact words, but Shouto shrugs and glances away before Izuku can explain further.

“Perhaps it’s because I, myself, am strange and unusual,” Shouto mutters, a furrow deep in his brow and his hand finally pulling back to himself.

Down the hall, a door slams and both boys flinch away from the noise. One glance at Shouto tells Izuku he doesn’t just want to leave him alone so, without thinking, he invites him to continue their discussion in the attic.

The moment they step into the attic, Inko greets Izuku, “How did it go? Oh, you brought a friend?” Inko’s eyes widen a little when she looks at Shouto and Izuku blushes at being called his friend.

“It went well. He’s furious. Turns out though, Shouto can see us. Or me?” Izuku looks back at Shouto and sees him waving politely at his mom so he amends again, “Us. He sees dead people.”

Izuku thinks his joke is pretty funny, but Inko doesn’t even acknowledge it and Shouto simply nods along. “I suppose I do see dead people,” Shouto agrees and Izuku wonders if he even understands the joke Izuku tried to make.

“Well, honey,” Inko starts, clearly not wanting to dwell on the fact that she and her son are dead, “we’re not planning to haunt you. We just wanted to teach your dad a lesson for hurting you. No child is going to be abused on my watch.”

Shouto snorts then, glancing over his shoulder as if he’s expecting his father to come stomping up the stairs at any moment. “Good luck with that. Nothing can stop Father from training me to be the ‘perfect son’. Even the fact that my face will always look like… this,” he gestures helplessly at his scarred eye, “He thinks I can still be what he bred me to be.”

Inko doesn’t know whether to be furious or so sad for Shouto, then, and Izuku knows that because he feels exactly the same. “You’re a human being, Shouto. You weren’t ‘bred’ to be anything other than yourself,” Inko argues, though her tone is soft like she’s just reminding Shouto of something he should have known all along.

“Shouto! Get down here now!” Enji commands, his voice seeming to carry all the way from the first floor. Jumping Shouto waves at the two ghosts and runs out of the room and down the stairs, not even saying any parting words.

The two share a look after he leaves and the seem to reach the same resigned decision at the same time. “We need that troubled boy, don’t we?” Inko asks with a sigh and Izuku can only nod.

“Katsuki,” he starts before Inko cuts him off.

“If anything bad comes of this, I don’t want it to be your responsibility,” she explains. “Katsuki. Katsuki. Katsuki.”

A poof of smoke fills the attic, dissipating quickly and leaving the boy with spiky hair, now blonde, leaning against the wall next to the window. His arms are crossed over his chest, but he seems generally less pissed off than his did the last they saw him. “I told you you’d need my help,” he says with a smirk.

Izuku cringes at the idea and shares a look with his mother, unsure if he’s ok to explain what they need help with. “It’s not what you said, though. We don’t mind sharing the house,” he argues, locking eyes with the demon. Katsuki raises a brow in disbelief before kicking off the wall with a scoff.

Stalking over to them, Katsuki gets right up in Izuku’s space before asking, “So what is the problem?” He circles around, coming to a stop behind Izuku and resting his chin on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Izuku winces at the smell of burning and iron, but is kept in place by the demon pressed against him. “You just that desperate for someone to show you what a real ghost is capable of?”

Cutting in, Inko pulls Izuku toward herself and leaves Katsuki watching them with a self-satisfied smirk. “We just want to stop an abusive situation. Whether that means driving the father away or making him stop what he’s doing,” Inko fills him in easily.

That puts a grin on Katsuki’s face and he twirls around, already starting for the stairs. “Answers simple. Let’s kill that fucker,” Katsuki says all to gleefully.

Izuku runs, putting himself between Katsuki and the door. “No. We don’t want to kill anybody!” Izuku cries, holding his arms out and grabbing the door frame so Katsuki can’t just push him out of the way. Katsuki does come to an abrupt stop, but his smile drops and his hair starts to bleed red from the tips, dripping down toward his scalp.

Whirling around, Katsuki paces toward Inko, stopping inches in front of her with his face entirely too close to her for comfort. “Is that so? What is the point then?” he demands, practically yelling in her face.

Taking a step back, Inko raises her hand placating. “You said you’d teach us to haunt, is that not still an option?” she questions and Izuku doesn’t need to see Katsuki’s face to know he’s not calming. The vibrancy of his now fully red hair says all Izuku needs to know.

Luckily, Katsuki is apparently above hurting other ghosts and he just turns and kicks the nearest object, sending a chair flying against the wall for one leg to fly off. “No! Of course not! Why would you waste everyone’s time doing that when the answer is so simple?” he shouts, not even looking at either of the other ghosts as he rages. “If you’d just let me kill the guy and get his son to say my name, we could be done here. That simple.”

Izuku’s brows furrow and he momentarily forgets about the danger and clarifies, “Say your name? We’ve already done that, why do we need to get Shouto to say it?”

He doesn’t even see Katsuki coming, he just knows that the next second, all he can smell is smoke and he can practically hear a gunshot in the distance. “It doesn’t matter if you say it, Deku. I need someone living!” Katsuki growls against Izuku’s throat before he rips away and stomps off. Izuku nearly loses his balance when the demon is no longer pressing against him, but he barely manages to right himself before Katsuki turns around to stare at him again.

Chest heaving on a deep, yet unnecessary, breath, Katsuki’s hair slowly drains color and he forces himself calm. “Whatever. You ever watch a ghost movie?” Katsuki asks, his voice still stiff with barely contained anger. When both Izuku and Inko nod, Katsuki waves a hand dismissively. “Just do that shit. The only thing you can’t do is make the breathers see you. It takes a lot of concentration for newbies like you guys to make them hear you, but it’s possible. I’ll be back in a few days to see if you’re ready for me to kill him yet.”

With that Katsuki grabs Izuku by the shoulders and moves him away from the doorway. As he’s walking out, Izuku calls after him, “Wait, Mr. Katsuki, sir. Don’t you have any more advice for us?”

Katsuki pauses on the top stair to throw a disdainful look over his shoulder. “I’d want to die all over again if I watch you practice. You can figure it out.”

Then, he’s gone.

----------------

Over the next several days, Shouto grows closer to Izuku until they’re practically inseparable. Shouto has never had as much fun as watching the ghosts haunt his father in his life and he has to hold back laughter every time they knock something out of Enji’s hands or hide something immediately after he sets it down. One time, Izuku took Father’s phone hid it under a cupboard, only taking it off silent mode hours later when Father had lost his mind throwing things around and yelling about his stuff continually going missing. Then, there was the day when Father didn’t bother Shouto at all, exhausted from a night of getting woken by strange noises every time he started drifting off. The best part, though, were the times Izuku simply kept Shouto company when Father left the house.

The were joined at the hip. Except when Izuku goes to whatever ghost places Shouto can’t follow him to, that is, and Shouto is left home alone.

This was one of those times.

“Pack your things, I’m selling this house.”

The words still buzz around Shouto’s brain, said so nonchalantly as Father passed him on the stairs that morning. Of course, Shouto had simply uttered a “Yes sir,” and continued on to his room. There was nothing else to be done at the time. There’s no going against Father’s will. Shouto wishes more than anything that Izuku were here to talk about it, but the ghost boy is missing and Shouto wouldn’t know the first thing about finding him.

But that sure is an idea, isn’t it?

Father can’t rip Shouto away from his happiness and only friend if Shouto is left to haunt this place, too. All it takes is one second of consideration for Shouto to decide that’s the best option. The only option.

So he scribbles out a note quickly, before Father returns home from his trip into town and stop him, leaving it on his desk as to be found later.

I don’t know how you discovered that this place makes me happy, but you can never make me leave it. Tell Mother I’m sorry. If she ever speaks to you again, that is.

And with that, he’s off running for the attic. He glances around on his way through and, for the first time ever, he’s happy to see the Midoriyas are missing. They would try to stop him and the sad look on Inko’s face when she realizes there is a suicidal child in her home might just be enough to change his mind.

Clambering out to the room, Shouto rushes to the edge. First, he checks to make sure Father’s car was still missing before moving on to find the best place to jump. He doesn’t know enough about physics to know if the height alone would be enough to get the job done. Which is why he finds the bird bath. If nothing else, impaling himself on it would probably do the trick.

He’s just about to jump, the note tucked safely in the breast pocket of his flannel, when someone calls out. “What’s happening here?”

Whirling around, Shouto sees a boy with purple tinged hair eying him curiously. Which doesn’t make sense for a number of reasons. The first one coming to mind being that the boy is only wearing a black tank top, ripped jeans, and orange and black combat boots even though it’s going to be winter soon and Shouto is chilly in his flannel and sweatpants. The second being, “Who the hell are you?”

The other boy smiles then, walking forward carefully, clearly conscious of how close Shouto still is to the edge. “I’m who you apparently want to be. I think I can help you, though. How ‘bout you let me kill your dad and you stick around a little longer?” the boy bargains and Shouto wonders how he even knows that Father is the problem.

Shouto stands his ground, watching the other boy with his eyes only, not willing to move his body at all for fear of giving the other boy and opening to pull him further onto the roof. “No thank you. I’m fine with my current arrangement,” Shouto comments, edging backwards ever so slightly.

Purple hair shrugs, though Shouto can see in his eyes that the indifference is feigned. “Alright, kill yourself. That won’t stop him, though. You realize that? He made you for a reason, what’s stopping him from doing to some other woman and child exactly what he did to you and your mom?” the boy asks and Shouto hates that logic.

If ever a time to be selfish, though, now would be it. “I guess that’s something I’ll just have to live with. Oh wait. I won’t, will I?”

Purple hair gets darker, and Shouto finally realizes that he must be another ghost with the way his hair changes color like a mood ring. “Don’t you want your dad to suffer? I can bring him so much pain. Make him pay for what he’s done. All you need to do is say my name three times.”

Shouto shrugs and turns around, leaning forward dangerously. “I don’t even know your name,” he points out and a small smile crosses his lips at the idea of finally just being done with it.

All at once, Shouto hears the ghost shout, “NO!” and then arms burning like hot coals wrap around his waste, tugging him back.

Thrashing around Shouto starts yelling, “Let go of me you ghost jack-ass!”

Then he hears the one thing he didn’t think to expect, “Please don’t kill yourself. I don’t want to do this whole being dead thing without you,” is murmured against his neck in Izuku’s voice. Twisting his head around to look over his shoulder, Shouto’s nose buries in familiar green curls and he’s met with the scent of wet, caught between stale water and a rushing river right after rain. His entire body burns where he’s pressed against the heat of ghost who’s probably never been so earnest before.

Inko’s voice cuts in just ask Shouto shuts his eyes and relaxes against the warmth that would probably be painful if the source were anyone or anything else. “Katsuki! We agreed no murder!” Shouto’s suddenly glad that Inko’s never had a reason to seriously scold him before, dreading the idea of having the tone turned on him when she finds out that ‘Katsuki’ wasn’t the one attempting to kill him.

Izuku’s grip lightens and he pushes Shouto up until he’s sitting. Turning, Shouto makes eye contact with Izuku for half a second before he sees his truth reflected in the ghost’s eyes and he has to stand and walk away, toward the window this time.

The new ghost ignores the scolding he just received, though, looking only at Shouto. “Now you know my name. How ‘bout it?” he offers yet again.

Shaking his head, Shouto refuses to look at anyone else on the roof. “These two clearly know you. If they thought that asking you for help would be a good idea, I would have done it by now. I trust Izuku’s judgment far more than I do yours,” Shouto mutters, just wanting to go back inside at this point and hopefully get away with pretending this didn’t happen.

“Who cares what a worthless Deku has to say? I can help you and that’s all that you need,” Katsuki argues. He doesn’t even see the stormy look blow into Shouto’s eyes before he’s being kicked off the roof, falling to what would be his death if he weren’t already deceased.

“Shouto!” Inko scolds, rushing over to see if Katsuki’s ok, even though the boy has already vanished. “That’s dangerous! Someone could’ve been hurt!”

Shouto shrugs and looks at Izuku, who’s trying to hide his giggles behind his hand. “He was already dead. I don’t see the problem,” he points out before slipping through the window and down the stairs to his own room.

Izuku stops long enough to tell his mom not to follow before he’s trailing after Shouto. The door’s barely shut before Izuku’s asking, “Were you really trying to kill yourself?”

Flopping face first onto his bed, Shouto simply fishes his note out of his pocket and holds it out to Izuku. There’s a moment of silence before the paper is slid from his fingers and then even more silence as Izuku reads what Shouto wrote.

The silence drags on for too long, making Shouto uncomfortable. Eventually, he just has to flip over and face Izuku, who he’s sure must be crying. Shock settles in when Shouto’s met with silent fury rather than the tears he was expecting. “I’m sorry, Izuku,” he apologizes, his voice quiet but no less sincere.

With a shake of his head, Izuku makes the note vanish is a quick burst of flame before he drops onto Shouto’s bed and holds him tight. “Don’t apologize, but never do this again. That was really scary and I don’t want you to die. I promise I won’t let your dad take you if you just promise to talk to me in the future instead of jumping to… jumping,” Izuku says, his voice steel even as it comforts Shouto’s shaken nerves.

“I can do that,” Shouto offers and he’s never felt so relieved as when Izuku’s temperature drops to something more reasonable and he relaxes to a more comfortable embrace. “Can I sleep for a while, it’s been a draining day.”

Izuku nods but doesn’t let go, letting Shouto fall asleep in his arms just like Shouto was hoping for.

---------------------

It’s now or never, Shouto needs to find a way to stay in this house, with out without his father, and if he doesn’t have it sorted out by the end of the day, Father’s going to make him move. They have a plan, Shouto thinks. Izuku has been working on possession, but he’s not willing to practice on Shouto so he’s not really sure what kind of progress the ghost has been making.

He trusts Izuku, though, so he’s sure it’ll work out.

When it comes time for dinner, Shouto is excited to go downstairs for the first time. Father notices this, commenting, “I see you’ve come around to the idea of moving.”

“Yes, Father,” Shouto responds quietly, looking at his plate and decidedly not at Izuku hovering in the corner.

“It’s truly too bad you couldn’t attend the school here, even for a day. There will be an even better school at the new house. Maybe I an even pay Aizawa to transfer so he can still teach you,” Father continues, ignoring Shouto continuing to get more tense the longer he’s able to form his own sentences. Of course, Father wouldn’t know that’s going to stop soon.

Over time, Shouto begins to tune Father out as he goes on and on about where they’re supposed to be moving to. He simply hums in all the correct places while he eats, thanks to years of practice listening for the intonations in Father’s voice requesting a response. All the while, Shouto only occasionally glances at Izuku, where the boy F

Finally, about halfway through the dinner, Izuku pulls it off. Father cuts off in the middle of a sentence, his body seizing up and just freezing, as if he’s suddenly unsure of how to control it. Eyes immediately flying to Izuku, Shouto sees him pumping a fist in the air with a massive smile splitting his face.

Looking back to Father, Shouto speaks quickly but clearly, refusing to lose this chance. “I’m going to be very clear with you, Father. You are going to leave, but I’m not going with you. There are people here I refuse to lose and they refuse to tolerate your abuse any more.”

Shouto watches Izuku’s face tighten as he focuses on loosening the reigns just enough for Father to answer on his own. When he’s able, Father growls, “You don’t make the rules, boy.”

Instinct makes Shouto flinch in his seat, that tone typically meaning pain is coming for him. All that happens this time, though, is Father is jerked back in his seat so hard his chair rocks and his mouth snaps shut.

“Change of plans, then,” Shouto mutters, pulling out his phone and opening the camera. He nods to Izuku as soon as he has a recording started.

Izuku and Enji start speaking simultaneously, though Shouto knows only one voice will be heard in the recording. “My name is Todoroki Enji. I am coming forward to admit to some crimes that I know most of you will never forgive me for. For as long as I have been married, I have abused my family. My wife did not choose to marry me, nor did she choose to be committed to a mental institution after I drove her to hurting our youngest child. Said child, Shouto, did not choose to move away from his family with me. I tore him away because they were in the way of my abusing him into being the child I wanted to create. I am a coward of a man, but I would like to change that. I’m starting the process now by admitting my crimes to you, the public, and letting my family go to live their lives as they please without me in it.”

As soon as Izuku stops speaking, Shouto stops the recording and levels Father with a look. “I am holding all the aces here. This is your last chance to leave me in peace, or I will release this video to the public. It would go viral in minutes and you know it,” Shouto reasons.

Father lunges forward then, his hands on Shouto’s throat before Shouto can even realize what’s happening. “You hold all the aces? Yeah, that’s how this looks,” Father mocks, his grip tightening to the point that Shouto can’t breath.

The next second, Father is ripped away and pinned to the opposite wall. He slams against it so hard that plaster cracks and Shouto’s sure he has a concussion.

Izuku’s on him then, hands fluttering around and tears in his voice, “I’m so sorry, Shouto! I meant to just release his voice again, but I accidentally dropped to much. I’m so sorry!” Father must fight against him because Izuku’s hand flips back and Shouto hears the wall creak under Father’s weight.

Shouto shakes his head, hope leaving him quickly, and he waves Izuku off. “It’s not going to work. Nothing we do will be enough,” he admits, hanging his head. “I can’t keep living like this, though. Forgive me, Izuku.”

It takes Izuku a moment to figure out what Shouto means, and by then he’s already started. Ignoring Izuku’s pleas that they can figure it out, Shouto chants, “Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki.”

There’s another puff of smoke and then, there Katsuki is, his hair bright violet in his excitement. “Hey, old man,” he greets, grabbing Father with a single hand and holding him back from rushing Shouto again, Izuku apparently having released him. “Time for you to go.”

“Don’t kill him,” Shouto requests, not really caring what else happens so long as he doesn’t have his father’s death on his conscience.

Rolling his eyes, Katsuki shoves Father away from himself and looks over his shoulder at Shouto. Father tries to move past him, but Katsuki freezes him in an instant, turning him around to run full force into a cabinet. “I can at least rough him up a little, right?” he requests, as if he hadn’t already started that process.

Shouto shrugs, beyond caring too much. “No worse than he’s done to me,” he limits, though it’s honestly not much of a limit.

It’s with a grin that Katsuki turns back to his prey. It becomes apparent very quickly, though, that Katsuki either can’t or won’t outright harm Father, he only turns his own force against him whenever the man tries to get to Shouto instead of just giving up. Which Shouto is honestly fine with. He doesn’t necessarily want Father harmed, he just wants him to leave him alone. Whatever it takes.

Luckily, it doesn’t take too many redirects for Father to lose his temper and leave. He storms out of the house with Katsuki hot on his tail, throwing taunts as they go, just for Katsuki to stop short at the door the second Father is through it.

“Thanks, kid. That was fun,” Katsuki turns with a grin, his hair magenta with glee. “There’s no way he’s coming back here after that.”

Shouto shrugs, turning to go back to his room. “I wouldn’t count on that. He’s a stubborn man. Thank you for getting rid of him, though. Do whatever you want down here, I’m going upstairs.”

Izuku follows him silently, holding his tongue until they reach Shouto’s room. The second the door shuts, though, the dam breaks. “Is that what you wanted? Your father beaten in front of you? You never mentioned wanting revenge before. Though I guess Mom and I wouldn’t have understood it, so it makes sense to keep it to yourself,” Izuku rambles, and Shouto can’t even tell if his tone is accusing or not.

Rounding on him, Shouto feels frustration bubble in his throat. Finally free after years of abuse followed by an absolute numbness as he watched Father try to hurt him again and again without being able to reach him. “That not what I wanted!” he bites out, wincing when Izuku flinches away from his harsh tone. “I’m sorry,” he utters, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath to let out some frustration. “I didn’t want to hurt him. I truly wanted our attempts at a peaceful separation to work. But you saw him, that wasn’t working. And there’s nothing on this planet I want more than to be free from him. So I’m not sorry that I did whatever it took to get him out. I’m only sorry that you seem to be scared of me now. I guess I’m no better than him after all.”

“That’s not even close to true!” Izuku argues, hesitating for the barest of moments with his hands hovering nears Shouto’s shoulders for the living boy to lean into his touch. Shouto shuts his eyes and relishes in the warmth there, letting the words sink in at the same rate as the temperature indicating that Izuku believes them to be true. “You’re nothing like him and I’m not scared of you. I just wish it didn’t come to that. Plus, I’m concerned about what Katsuki plans to do from here. Something tells me he won’t be satisfied just living here with us.”

A glance at the door doesn’t provide any answers, not that Shouto truly believed it would. Thinking back to the encounter with Father, Shouto wonders aloud, “He seems to be bound by some kind of rules. Partially whatever I command, I think. I don’t know where the other part comes from, but there seemed to be something holding him back from harming Father unless Father initiated it. So I don’t think he’s as dangerous as he led you to believe.”

Izuku ponders his words for a minute before nodding. “I think you’re right,” he agrees. “I was more focused on making sure you were okay, so I didn’t watch them that closely, but that makes sense with what I did see…” He starts mumbling to himself then. Shouto would love to hear his thoughts, but he’s too quiet and talking too quickly for Shouto to understand so he chooses to just go relax until Izuku comes to a conclusion he wants to share.

That never happens, though, and Shouto drifts off to the sound of Izuku muttering to himself.

----------------------

The next two days pass far quieter and more peacefully than anyone could have anticipated. Katsuki entertains himself with scaring anyone who comes to the house, but he never actually hurts anyone so Shouto isn’t too concerned with it. For the most part, as long as the residents of the house leave him alone, Katsuki is content to just do his own thing. On the rare occasion that they do cross paths, Katsuki is his annoying self toward Izuku but he gets along well with Shouto. He listens to whatever the breathing boy tells him to do and even tries to joke around with him or, if Shouto happens to be downstairs when someone comes to the door, Katsuki even tries to get him in on the pranks.

On the third day, Shouto decides that Katsuki is just another kid in a situation he didn’t ask for and is mostly harmless. Once he reaches that conclusion, his family passes through his mind and he wonders if they’d want to join him here.

So, on day three of living with an actual demon, Shouto starts preparing to save his family from his Father for good.

“I’m going to be gone for a couple days but I’ll make Katsuki promise to be nice to you,” Shouto says, already packing a bag and barely looking up when Izuku comes into the room. “And I don’t know how quickly he’ll come back for me, but I’m sure Katsuki will keep Father out as well, so you shouldn’t have to be worried about that.”

“Where are you going?” Izuku asks, unsure about being left with Katsuki. But Shouto seems excited about whatever he’s doing, so Izuku can deal. Surely it won’t be that bad. Katsuki will probably keep himself busy terrorizing the neighborhood and Izuku’s sure he can keep it to a minimum.

When Shouto looks up and Izuku sees his smile, he’s sure that he’d do whatever it takes to keep it there. “I’m going to get Mother and my siblings. They’ll love it here and Katsuki will protect us from Father. Mother has always wanted to live in a small town and I just know she’d love you and Inko.”

Izuku nods along, happy to see Shouto so happy but then he realizes, “Are you sure Katsuki will allow them in here? What if he just chases them away like he did your father?”

Zipping up his back and hoisting it onto his shoulder, Shouto’s easy response is, “And lose a new audience to tell him how great he is? I doubt it. But even if he does, I’m the one who made him visible. I can undo it just as easily.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Izuku jumps at the new addition, flying away from the door and turning to see Katsuki sauntering in.

“It’s almost cute that you think you’re in charge,” Katsuki smirks, strolling forward and getting right in Shouto’s personal space. “You act like I’m your new ghostly pet or something but it’s the other way around, kid. I make the calls and you can’t do any more than jump when I say jump.” Right on cue, Katsuki possesses Shouto and makes him jump. The look on Shouto’s face is a mix of fury and sad betrayal and leaves Izuku wondering if he should feel bad for him or be scared of him. “Now why don’t you just relax and wait for your next command?”

Shouto’s muscles strain as he fights against Katsuki making him sit on his bed, and he jumps up the second the possession is lifted. Unfortunately, by then Katsuki is out of the room. “I thought I summoned him to chase Father away, not replace him as my tormentor,” Shouto grumbles, clenching his fists like he wants to chase Katsuki and fight him.

“There must be some way we can get rid of him,” Izuku says, though he doesn’t have the slightest clue where to start looking for that. “He must have some kind of weakness.”

Izuku’s heart falls when Shouto barely glances at him, shaking his head. “There’s no way. I thought he’d be different but he’s just like Father. He has no weakness and all he cares about is himself. I’m sorry I trapped you with him,” Shouto apologizes, shaking his head mournfully before dropping face first onto his bed.

Excusing himself quietly, Izuku starts to leave the room, not wanting to invade Shouto’s face when he’s sad. He just knows that soon enough he’ll be pacing and muttering to himself in an attempt to find some way to thwart Katsuki, and Izuku’s sure Shouto doesn’t want to listen to that.

Crossing the room, though, Izuku kicks something on the floor. Which is weird, Shouto is the least messy person he knows, there’s no way he’d just leave a book on his floor. Picking it up, Izuku inquisitively reads the title aloud. “Handbook for the Recently Deceased? Where did this come from? I don’t know that I’d count Mom and I as ‘recent’ anymore.”

Perking up, Shouto swings around to look at Izuku like he just found gold. “That must have an answer!” Shouto rushes over and Izuku hands the book over easily. As much as Izuku’s going to help, Shouto will feel better if Izuku lets him be in control. However, Shouto’s brow just furrows and his almost hopeful expression turns to annoyance as the book doesn’t open. “Is this even a real book?”

“It looks like a real book,” Izuku replies, confused and Shouto’s troubles. The other boy hands it over then, and the ghost has no problem cracking the cover. “Maybe it’s because you’re not deceased.”

Glancing at the title of chapter one, The Netherworld, Izuku decides maybe he doesn’t want to read the book right now. After all, he’d rather just stay hanging out with Shouto than go somewhere with a name like that. So, he hands the book over and watches to make sure Shouto can turn a page before handing over the reigns officially. “I’ll read it when we’re done with the Katsuki problem. Until then, it’s all yours,” Izuku offers and Shouto just looks between him and the book.

“Are you sure? This probably has some helpful information for you. Have you and Inko even gone to the Netherworld before?” Shouto asks, reading out what must be the first line in the book when Izuku shakes his head, “All ghosts must proceed directly to the Netherworld.”

Izuku shrugs and waves him off, “It’s fine. This is more important. Mom and I can do that once we’ve fixed all this.” Izuku doesn’t mention that he just doesn’t want to leave his best friend. Shouto seems to accept that answer for now and he moves over to his desk to hunker down with the book. Izuku’s not really sure what he should be doing, though. He doesn’t really want to go to the attic and tell his mom that he found information that could help them but he’s keeping it to himself for selfish reasons. So he just flops on the bed and plays with the little plush rabbit Shouto’s been keeping by his pillow ever since he and Izuku found out that it was still hiding behind the bookcase in the living room.

A few hours later, when the sun starts fading in the window, Izuku asks, “Have you found the chapter on exorcism or anything like that?”

Shouto’s silent for a few seconds before he hums. “I think so. I’m just trying to figure out if it’ll work with a demon.”

Popping up onto his elbows, Izuku’s about to stand up when Shouto brings the book to him. Izuku skims it quickly before shrugging, “I don’t see how it wouldn’t work.”

They meet eyes briefly and Izuku doesn’t need him to speak to know that it’s go time.

---------------------

The two have a brief meeting before they go downstairs, Shouto deciding that maybe Izuku and Inko should be out of the room just in case. Izuku doesn’t love the idea, but he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make Shouto happy. After all, he’s the one who couldn’t scare Enji away before Shouto felt like he needed to turn to Katsuki.

It feels lonely, though, when Shouto walks down the down the stairs by himself. He has to shake away the feeling of going downstairs to “train” with Father. Unlike Father, though, Katsuki barely looks up at Shouto’s descent.

Not wasting any time with negotiation attempts, Shouto jumps straight into reading the exorcism. “Hands vermillion, start of five.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work the way you want it to,” Katsuki cuts in, not even looking at Shouto.

Ignoring him, Shouto continues, “Bright cotillion, raven’s dive.”

Katsuki actually reacts then, standing up and taking a couple steps toward the stairs. “Seriously, stop it you idiotic breather.”

“Nightshade’s promise, spirits strive. To let the living let now the dead come alive.”

Finally, a reaction Shouto expects come, but from the wrong place. That screaming definitely isn’t coming from Katsuki.

Looking up, Shouto follows the sound toward the kitchen. “Inko?” he asks, voice breaking as he stumbles down the stairs. Inko floats in the doorway, her head thrown back and a green glow surrounding her. She hasn’t screamed a second time, but her limbs are stiff and her face, what little Shouto can see of it from his current angle, is twisted in pain. “What happened?”

When Shouto reaches Inko, he hestitates to try to hold her, unsure if it will cause her more pain. Instead, he rounds on Katsuki. “What happened!? This was supposed to be you!”

Katsuki smirks and comes forward, flicking the book out of Shouto’s hands. “You shouldn’t mess with things you don’t understand, kid. I even tried to warn you,” Katsuki says smugly.

Looking back at Inko, Shouto grows desperate. He hears a gasp from the stairs and in an instant, he’s being replaced at Inko’s side by Izuku. “Please,” Shouto pleads, not even caring about his pride or the fact that it’s been years since he’s let himself beg, “save her. I know you can do something. I’ll do whatever you say, just please fix this.”

Another scream cuts through the air and Shouto flinches. He can’t look at his best friend, he knows only hatred will be looking back at him. So he just stares at Katsuki, the other boy rubbing his chin as if he’s thinking about the offer even though Shouto knows the demon already has his mind made up.

After what feels like an eternity, Katsuki grins and nods. “Alright, I’ll help her. But there will be a cost,” he offers, a dark look on his face that would make Shouto backtrack if this were literally any other situation.

“Anything,” Shouto breathes at the same time Izuku lunges forward, crying, “No!”

It’s too late, though, Katsuki sweeps Shouto into his arms and whisks him out of Izuku’s reach with a smirk. “Marry me,” Katsuki commands and Shouto’s not sure what he thought the price would be, but it certainly wasn’t that. All things considered, it could be worse.

Izuku clearly thinks otherwise though, pounding on an invisible wall that Katsuki must have thrown up to prevent any interruption. “Katsuki, that’s too far! You’re making him marry you just to spite me? I’ll leave. Save my mom and we’ll go to the Netherworld. You never have to see us again. Just don’t do that to Shouto!” Izuku yells, fury in his tone even as his words sound like pleas.

Katsuki laughs then, dropping Shouto onto the couch before perching on the back of it himself. “This isn’t even about you, Deku. It’s more of a greencard thing. I want to be alive again and marrying a breather is the only way I can do that. You losers can have this house for all I care just as soon as I’m allowed to leave it.”

Shouto holds up a hand toward Izuku when the ghost looks like he wants to argue further. “You heard him, Izuku. What’s the problem if it’s just a greencard thing. Let him save her. Please.” All of the fight leaves Izuku when Shouto tacks on the last word.

Looking around with satisfaction, Katsuki asks, “So we’re all in agreement, then?” When he gets no further resistance, he waves a hand toward Inko, the woman falling to her knees and gasping in breathes that they all know she doesn’t need. Izuku rushes to her side, checking that she’s actually ok, and Shouto’s busy watching them so he doesn’t even see Katsuki’s next move.

All attention is drawn back to the blonde when he knocks three times on a wall. “Alright. I know Shouto won’t follow through with his end of the bargain if that useless Deku is here to talk him out of it, so I think it’s about time you two head to the Netherworld.” Slowly, a door appears behind him and creaks open, bright green light flooding out of it. Shouto watches Izuku and Inko get dragged toward it, gears turning and anger bubbling under his skin.

“You said they could stay,” Shouto argues, his voice quiet under the sounds of wind unfelt by the living dragging the two ghost to the other dimension.

Katsuki hears him, though, and he shrugs with a smirk. “I lie. Get used to it,” he says by way of explanation.

Invisible bonds hold Shouto to the couch so he can’t even try to get up and save the ghosts from the fate he made for them.

An idea hits him when they’re almost at the door.

“Can I at least say goodbye? Don’t I deserve at least that much?” Shouto questions, locking eyes with Katsuki. Izuku and Inko’s progress halts for a second while Katsuki thinks, and then Shouto’s bonds are gone.

“Fine, but make it snappy,” Katsuki relents, walking away from the door, surely not wanting to hear whatever sappy things Shouto’s going to say.

The ghosts wrap Shouto in a tight hug as soon as he gets close enough. “I promise, I’ll fix this,” he murmurs in their hair as he hugs them back. Adrenaline buzzes in his ears so he doesn’t even hear what they have to say, but the hug is over too soon, the ghosts being dragged away from him again.

Izuku goes first and Shouto doesn’t know if it’s fear or Katsuki keeping him still, but there’s a split second where he can’t move.

But then he is. He doesn’t think he’s ever moved faster in his life than when he surges forward, shoving Inko back into the living room and throwing himself through the door in her place.

The door slams shut behind him and Shouto is left in absolute darkness.

-------------------

It’s cold in the Netherworld. The chill bites down into Shouto’s bones and he hates that his first thought is wondering if Izuku feels it. He shouldn’t be concerned with whether or not Izuku could use a sweater, the gaping emptiness before him is bound to be more uncomfortable for Izuku than any temperature change could be.

Shouto shakes the thought off, or maybe that’s a shiver, and starts walking. He has no clue where he’s going, there’s only darkness surrounding him, but it’s not like there’s still a doorway for him to turn around and go back. Not that he would if that were an option. He came to save Izuku and he’ll be damned if he’s not successful.

He will admit, he wasn’t expecting to somehow be deposited in an entire other part of the Netherworld, but that’s not the point either. He doesn’t let himself think that maybe he’ll never see Izuku again. Instead, he skips that part of the journey entirely and starts wondering about what to do when he does find Izuku and they go home. He ponders over what to do with Katsuki the entire time he walks, never quite settling on a stellar plan.

Eventually, when his fingers are just starting to go numb despite being jammed into his armpits due to a lack of pockets, he sees light. He wonders briefly if this is the light they talk about seeing when you die, but then he hears a voice that makes all thought lose his head. He’s too far still to hear words, but that’s definitely Izuku’s voice talking to someone, or possibly arguing, and Shouto is sprinting toward it as fast as he can.

The light seemed so far away at first, but now it’s so sudden. Almost as if it was rushing toward him even as Shouto ran toward it. The idea makes no sense, but then again, neither does anything else in the Netherworld.

When Shouto comes crashing in, he nearly trips over his own feet trying to stop so suddenly. But he doesn’t even care, he’s just so relieved to see Izuku.

“Shouto!” Izuku gasps, and it’s as if everything else just disappears in that moment for the ghost. “How did you even get here? And do you know where Mom is?”

Izuku rushes to Shouto’s side and wraps him in a hug immediately. “I followed you in,” Shouto breathes out, then pausing to catch his breath. Izuku holds Shouto at arm’s length away then and Shouto sees the million questions on his lips so he simply holds up a finger, needing a second to catch up before he can handle that. He must be smiling, though, because Izuku slowly starts grinning back at him. “I couldn’t just let Katsuki send you away like that so I stole your mom’s place. She’s still at your house,” he finally explains when he gets his breath back.

He can’t help himself then, Izuku starts laughing and he has to pull Shouto in for another hug before it turns to crying. Shouto is so hot everywhere they make contact, and that just makes Izuku cry even harder. “Why would you do something like that? We would have come back for you,” Izuku questions even though he’s so happy that Shouto came for him. Thrilled that the boy cares enough to save them both.

Shouto shrugs, and the minute drop in temperature tells Izuku that he does know exactly why he did it, but Izuku will save pressing it for later.

“This is touching and all,” a woman cuts in and when Shouto glances over, he sees a girl with long black hair, green skin, and a sash reading ‘Miss Argentina’ watching them in confusion, “but what, exactly, is happening right now?” Shouto doesn’t even have a chance to answer, too distracted by the fact that somehow, he’s now in an office of some sort. Or a reception area at the very least, judging by the chairs opposite the counter that the woman’s standing in front of. Only one chair is occupied, a boy in glasses ignoring all the ruckus to read a book tucked away in the corner.

Izuku pulls away and blushes before bowing toward the woman. “I’m sorry, Miss Argentina, this is Shouto. He moved into the house Mom and I were haunting and I guess he’s the reason Mom’s not here. I apologize for trying to argue with you that she was earlier.”

The woman seems to stop listening to Izuku halfway through, her brows raising as she takes in Shouto. “This is a breather, you said?” she questions, coming closer to inspect him better. When Izuku nods, she almost seems to jerk away. “You need to get out of here right now. If Mitsuki sees you, you won’t be breathing for much longer. And you’re far to cute to die so young.”

“There’s a breather here?” another voice asks and Shouto looks over at the boy, now noticing glass and metal protruding from his body like he was just in a car accident, jump up and run over to see the two. “That’s trouble. Listen to her. You’re in serious danger here. Why would you come in the first place? Did either of you even read the Handbook for the Recently Deceased?” The boy holds up his now closed book and Shouto almost wonders how he was supposed to read a book he’s never even seen before.

Izuku nods quickly and steps in before Shouto can challenge the boy and ask that. “We’ll gladly be on our way back home now. There’s no need for trouble.” He fumbles then to pull a piece of chalk from his pocket and Shouto will need to ask him later where he even got that.

“Thank you for keeping him safe until I got here,” Shouto says to the woman while Izuku hastily starts drawing on a wall.

Before Miss Argentina can even respond, let alone Izuku being able to finish drawing the doorway, a woman yells, “Has anyone seen my useless son? What is he up to now?”

Shouto has no idea what’s happening, but the two Netherworldly beings freeze. Then they look at each other in fear. Then they’re hastily trying to hide Shouto from whatever woman just yelled and is clearly on her way to the room they’re in now. Shouto doesn’t know where she’s coming from, but he guesses he should stop trying to make sense of this place.

When he’s roughly grabbed and shoved toward Izuku, Shouto finally looks toward where he was standing and he sees a door right behind where he just was swing open. Striding through is a woman with spiky yellow hair, red eyes, and a gash that’s hard to ignore going across her neck. Shouto can’t help but think of Katsuki when he looks at her and he wonders if Katsuki is the ‘useless son’ she just yelled about.

He can’t get any answers, though, as suddenly he’s being yanked through the door and then he and Izuku are standing in the attic of their home. They share one look before they’re hugging again, and Shouto revels in the feel of the cold boy in his arms, even as the rest of him is tingling from warming up too quickly.

“I’m happy we’re home,” Izuku utters after a moment’s peace, “but what are we going to do about Katsuki? He won’t let you live if you don’t marry him, but I won’t let him kill you, either.”

Shouto pulls away just enough for Izuku to see him smirk and he says, “I have a plan.”

--------------------

“Oh, Katsuki!” Shouto calls, making his voice soft and inviting. He first focuses on making sure Katsuki is looking at him, then he looks at the demented carnival game he has Inko trapped in. She seems suspending in some sort of dunk tank, but Shouto is sure that whatever she’d fall into when Katsuki gets bored of playing and hits the mark will hurt a lot more than water.

Descending the stairs, Shouto walks straight up to Katsuki and throws an arm around his shoulder, leaning against the slightly shorter boy. “What do you want, Half ‘n Half?” Katsuki scowls, shoving Shouto off of him immediately. Shouto makes sure to hold his attention, though, refusing to look over Katsuki’s shoulder to where Izuku helps his mom escape the dunk tank.

Shouto frowns, feigning a pout and holds his hand up, palms out, to try and placate Katsuki. “I got a chance to think when I was in the Netherworld. And during that time, I realized that you are actually pretty attractive. So I would like to marry you.”

Katsuki scoffs and stomps toward Shouto, stopping inches away from his face. “Stop the bullshit,” he growls, giving Shouto a hard shove in the shoulders and making him stumble back, falling on his butt.

Rolling his eyes, Shouto stands back up and dusts himself off. This clearly angers Katsuki, but that will just make it easier. “Fine. I realized that Izuku actually is useless. But marrying you could give me the power I need. It’s a win/win.”

“And why should I believe you?” Katsuki sneers, but he doesn’t make a move against Shouto, so they must be getting somewhere.

Shouto shrugs and takes a step toward Katsuki again, testing him. When there’s no reaction, he says, “My dad will be back again. I need a way to keep him out. You know I don’t need any motive other than that and you’re the only one who can help me do that.”

Katsuki seems like he’s almost swayed but then Shouto throws in, “Plus, wouldn’t you just love to prove that you’re better than Deku? He could never convince a living person to marry him, yet you’ve got me here practically begging for it.”

That’s all it takes. Katsuki nods and snaps his fingers and just like that, they’re in bright red tuxedos that could not be more uncomfortable and a small gargoyle looking creature is emerging from the woodwork. Katsuki doesn’t even give the creature time to speak, simply snapping out, “I do,” and looking expectantly for Shouto to do the same. Shouto says it back and, with another poof, the creature is gone again, along with all the contraptions Katsuki created when he was waiting for Shouto and Izuku to return.

“Did it work?” Shouto asks, looking expectantly at Katsuki. He looks more alive, his face actually pink instead of blue tinged white, but that could mean nothing.

But then Katsuki laughs and it’s not the sarcastic sound Shouto is used to from him. No. This sound actually joyful. “Oh yeah, here we go!” Katsuki cheers and he’s so excited, Shouto almost wants to call off the rest of his plan. Would it really hurt anything to just let Katsuki be alive? “I forgot how it felt to… feel,” Katsuki says then, the grin still on his face.

Izuku steps forward then, a smile on his own face, and Shouto can tell just by looking at him that he’s having the same doubts as Shouto. “I’m glad it worked, Katsuki,” he congratulates but the second Katsuki looks at him, the smile drops and he practically snarls at Izuku.

“No one asked you, Deku. Why don’t you just go to the Netherworld?” Katsuki snaps and, oh yeah, that’s why Shouto doesn’t want to keep him around. “I know how to send you there, you know. The fact that I’m alive now changes nothing.”

All it takes is Katsuki prowling a single step toward Izuku. In and instant, Shouto is reaching for the fireplace poker and surging forward all in one motion. Katsuki either doesn’t hear him coming or doesn’t have time to respond, but either way, the poker is soon sticking out of his back as he falls forward.

Shouto barely hears Inko’s gasp, clearly not completely up to speed with the plan, and he pulls the poker out of Katsuki’s back even as his attention is already turning toward Izuku. “You almost wanted to just go with it too, didn’t you?” Izuku asks, his eyes still on the blond boy on the floor.

Shrugging, Shouto tosses the poker to the side and takes a few steps away. He knows this is his own plan, but now that he’s done and he sees that Izuku clearly feels some sort of remorse, he can’t help but feel guilty. “How am I different from my father?” he asks, his voice low and he’s not sure if he even means for other people to hear him.

“Shouto!” Izuku gasps, rushing forward and stopping just short of putting his hands on Shouto’s shoulders. Shouto doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s ok to touch him, but he also doesn’t move away. Izuku closes the gap then, still giving Shouto a chance to pull away, and when he moves forward into the touch he just reenforces Izuku’s suspicion that Shouto doesn’t know how to ask for physical affection, but he will be clear when doesn’t want it. “Your father hurt people for no reason. Katsuki is a literal demon. If you didn’t do what you did, it would only be a matter of time until he did much worse to a lot of innocent people. I’m so-”

Supportive words are cut off by a bang and fog pouring into the room. Izuku and Shouto both jump at the sound, immediately looking to Katsuki, who’s still laying on the floor. Though, they don’t really know if his body will stay there or not. No one really warned them what would happen after they killed a demon that they brought back to life. Will they have to dispose of a dead body somehow?

“Excuse me,” Inko starts, dragging the boys’ attention back to the origin of the fog, where blond woman from the Netherworld is walking through. “Who are you and why are you in my home?”

Red eyes narrow and the woman completely ignores Inko, instead sweeping the room until they settle on Shouto. “You,” she snarls, finger pointing as she stomps over to him, “You’re the breather who came to the Netherworld. That’s not how things work, kid. If you want in the Netherworld, you’ve gotta be dead.”

The woman doesn’t even notice Inko stepping forward then, and she crashes directly into her when Inko plants herself between the woman and Shouto. She turns her glare on Inko and she’s opened her mouth to turn her rage on her as well when Inko cuts in. “I still don’t know who you are but you can leave now. There is no way you are going to be harming a single hair on either of those boys heads.”

At Inko’s harsh tone, the woman blinks in confusion before smirking. Shouto doesn’t understand how she’s still so confident, he’s terrified of Inko in this moment and her rage isn’t even directed at him. He’s also happy that he can’t see her face, but her hair is writhing around her head like a mass of snakes and she’s a feint green color is emanating from her body.

“I see you learned how to haunt. How cute,” the Netherworlder taunts before reaching out to push Inko to the side. That is, she tries to before she gets distracted by the body on their floor. “You killed my son? He got some sucker to bring him back to life just to get himself killed again?”

Finally, a groan sounds from Katsuki’s direction and Shouto spares a glance to see that he’s pushing himself up, as if summoned by his mother noticing him. “You stabbed me in the back?” he asks, exasperation dripping from his tone. He turns to look at his killer only to get distracted by the newest addition to the group. “What are you doing here, you old hag?”

“Katsuki, you brat! Get yourself to the Netherworld right now!” his mother snaps, Shouto apparently forgotten in her rage at her own son.

Katsuki just scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “These guys are pretty entertaining, even if they did kill me. I think I’m gonna hang out here,” he challenges and Shouto can’t not notice the way he flinches back when his mother easily side steps Inko to stalk toward him. It reminds him a little too much of himself and Father.

There’s no thought process, Shouto’s just moving the next second, trying to get between a boy and his abusive parent like he wishes anyone would have done for him.

Inko beats him there. She’s floating now so she’s the same height as Katsuki’s mother and the glow around her body is a lot brighter now. Not to mention the light shining out of her eyes that would surely blind someone if they looked straight at it. “Get. Out. Of. My. House!” Inko commands and just like that, the woman is shot back like she’s being pushed by a strong gust of wind. She just barely manages to catch herself in the doorway to the Netherworld, but the door slams shut before she can get a single other word out.

Just like that, the glowing is gone, and Inko drops to the floor and rounds on Katsuki. He balks when she puts her hands on each of his cheeks, stopping him from moving away while she inspects him. “You will have to shape up a little and be nicer to my boys. But if you would like to, you can stay here and I will make sure that woman never hurts you again,” she promises, her eyes locked with Katsuki’s. “If you’d rather move on, you’re welcome to do that, too. There’s no pressure, but my offer will always be open. As long as you promise not to kill any more people.”

Katsuki rips his face out of her hands and looks anywhere other than at any of the people in the room. “One of your boys literally just killed me,” he mutters, but he clearly realizes the fault in pointing that out when Inko’s gaze hardens and they all flash back to moments before that when Katsuki threatened Izuku’s existence. “Fine. I promise.”

With a smile and a nod, Inko stands up and looks at Izuku and Shouto. “Quite an exciting day we’ve had, huh? Why don’t we all just get cleaned up and reconvene for dinner?”

----------------

“Hey, Izuku, can I talk to you for a second?” Shouto asks after he cleans up in his room, seeing Izuku going downstairs to meet his mom in the kitchen.

Smiling up at him, Izuku pauses on the landing. “Of course, what’s up?”

Shouto hurries down the stairs to stand with Izuku, suddenly more scared of this conversation than anything else that’s happened since he moved into a haunted house. “I’m going to ask you a question. It might be crazy or dumb or something that’ll make you hate me, but I need to know the answer,” he starts, trying to steel his nerves.

Izuku laughs then, grabbing Shouto’s hands, making Shouto look at him. “Nothing could ever make me hate you. Now, what’s got you so worked up that you’re practically on fire?”

“If getting married brought Katsuki back to life, do you think it could bring you back?” Shouto asks, his nerves showing through in a cracked voice even though his eyes never leave Izuku’s and his hands are steady where they’re connected to the ghost’s.

Izuku jerks back in surprise, his hands nearly losing form for a second, only staying real from the heat emanating from Shouto. The surety in that heat shocks Izuku and he starts shaking his head before he can even think of words to say. Shouto’s eyes stay firm, though, and he patiently waits for Izuku’s explanation before pushing the matter. “You can’t marry me!” Izuku finally cries. He can’t believe this is even happening, especially since Shouto still seems so sure of his choice, his hands squeezing briefly like he’s reminding Izuku that he’s gonna need more than that if he’s going to be dissuaded. “You’re alive, Shouto! And you’re 15 years old. Don’t throw that away on a ghost. I can be here for you just like this, I don’t need life.” The words hurt Izuku to say and if he could cry, surely he would be by now. He has to look away, the intensity in Shouto’s gaze is making it hard for him to stand firm here.

“You said it yourself the other night,” Shouto says, “if we had met when we were alive, you’d have a crush on me. I know I like you, Izuku. And you don’t have to stay with me forever, but can’t you at least take another chance at being alive?”

Izuku’s heart breaks because he knows Shouto’s being serious, he always is. But still, “What happens when you get bored with me?” The words come out in a whisper, but they feel so much louder when Izuku never meant to say them at all.

The warmth leaves Izuku’s hands and he almost wishes he could cry now that he is alone. Utterly alone. But then it appears on his cheeks and he’s being forced to look at Shouto.

“I will never be bored of you, Izuku. But you deserve the chance to get bored of me.” The truth of that statement burns and Izuku wonders if that would be painful if he could still feel things like physical pain. “Besides, you heard what Katsuki said, it’s a green card thing. If you don’t want to be with me romantically, the marriage isn’t even legal for the living world anyway.”

Finally, Izuku hiccups a laugh and he begins to think this might actually be an okay idea. He’s just about to nod, about to give his consent to a lifetime of being tied to Shouto, when he hears a creak behind him and both himself and Shouto jerk their gazes to the creaky floorboard in the living room. Looking up at them is Inko, and much like Izuku, she looks like she would be crying if they should.

Shouto looks back to Izuku and he sees the conflict raging in him. He’s not stupid, he knows that Izuku feels guilty for his mom’s death. He wouldn’t be surprised if Izuku chose to stay dead just for his mother’s sake, even though Shouto knows Inko would never approve of that choice. He resigns himself to the rejection even before Izuku looks back to him with heartbreak in his eyes but a shaky smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, Shouto, but I can’t.” And with that, he’s gone. When Shouto looks back down the stairs, Inko is gone too.

Slowly, Shouto trudges his way to his room. He knows he’s being selfish, but he can’t help being upset. All he wants to do is repay Izuku for all the help he’s given him in the last week of living together. Plus, it wouldn’t be terrible to have an actual friend for the first time in his life when he starts school in a few weeks. Shouto crashes into his bed, not even bothering to change out of his wedding tux, and soon enough he decides he deserves the discomfort of the outfit. After all, it’s got nothing on how he must have made Izuku feel, trying to shove his feelings onto the boy. After all, Izuku already has so much of his own troubles, not to mention how much he’s already taken on for Shouto, he shouldn’t have to take that on too.

That thought process can only go on for so long before Shouto has to drag himself out of bed and toward the stairs. There is a single moment when he reaches them and Shouto almost goes down. In that moment, he wonders if it’d be for the best to just leave the Midoriyas and not burden them anymore, even with something as seemingly simple as a goodbye. But then he thinks about how sad he would be if he never saw Izuku again and he knows he has to at least tell them why he’s leaving. So up he goes.

When Shouto reaches the attic, the Midoriyas aren’t even there. Not that he should have expected them to be. He’d probably hide from himself if he were in their position. Looking around, Shouto wonders if he should just wait for them to come back or if he should write them a note to find when they return. Time works differently for them, so leaving a note is probably the smart thing to do, but he really wants to see them one more time.

Voices drift into the room, ripping Shouto from his thoughts. He can’t tell what they’re saying but he knows them. He follows the sound to the window, which he finds to be slightly open, and there he sees Inko and Izuku on the roof. If he didn’t know them better, Shouto would even say they were arguing.

“-eason to turn him down. I love you, Izuku, and I will always love you. You don’t need to be stuck here with me for that,” Inko says, tears in her voice even though Shouto knows she can’t produce them anymore.

“Why should I get another chance at life, Mom?” Izuku asks, his voice so broken that it brings tears to Shouto’s eyes for the first time since he got his scar. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled and Shouto looks back up from scrubbing away the tears to see that it’s because Izuku’s face is buried in Inko’s shoulder. “I’m the reason we died, Mom. If anyone should live again, it should be you.”

Inko pushes Izuku away and holds him at arm’s length by his shoulders. “Now, Izuku, I never want to hear you say that again,” Inko scolds, her voice almost as firm as it was when she was telling Mitsuki to leave Shouto and Katsuki alone. “You are not the reason we died. Just as much as I didn’t kill my baby by choosing to leave the house that day. I know it’s hard to accept, but this is just what the universe had in store for us and nothing we do can change the universe’s plan. But now it’s offering you another chance and if you turn it down because of me, I could never forgive myself.”

It’s obviously difficult for him, but Izuku slowly nods at her before collapsing into her arms for a hug. “But what if Shouto was just caught up in the moment and doesn’t mean it? I really like him, Mom, what will I do if he was just being nice?”

Shouto has no doubt that Inko knows the right words to fix it for Izuku, but he has to step in before she needs to. Climbing onto the roof, Shouto says, “I wasn’t just being nice, Izuku. I’m sure this is strange or unusual, but I would really like a chance to date you.”

Izuku jumps when he hears Shouto, but Inko just smiles at him and Shouto wonders if she knew he was there all along. “Are… Are you sure?” Izuku asks, wringing his hands and looking back and Inko like he’s asking both of them for permission one final time; asking Inko if he can really be happy and Shouto if it can really be with him.

Shouto smiles and steps forward, reaching for Izuku’s hands with both of his. Izuku knows if he reaches out for them there will be fire waiting for him, but he reaches anyway and relishes in the burn. “I went to hell and back for you, Izuku. I’ve never been more sure.”

Izuku laughs at that even though he knows Shouto’s not joking and finally. Finally he says with a certainty he doesn’t think he’s ever had before, “Ok. I’ll marry you.” Just like that, the fire is gone from his hands. With the intensity leaving so suddenly, Izuku misses the more gentle warmth and bursts into tears, thinking it was all just some massive joke the universe was playing on him.

But then, he feels the wetness on his cheeks and oh yeah, that’s what it feels like to be able to cry, and what’s that roughness on his cheeks. Opening his eyes, Izuku sees Shouto looking at him with concern flooding his eyes and a frown tugging his lips down. “I didn’t know you had so many callouses, too,” he says, reaching up to cup Shouto’s hands where they work at wiping away his tears. Just as suddenly as he came to life, a smile bursts through his tears and he beams up at Shouto.

The frown is wiped from Shouto’s face in an instant, a small smile of his own replacing it, and he leans closer to knock his forehead against Izuku’s. Izuku tries to keep looking at Shouto, but he’s forced to close his eyes when he can’t focus at such a close proximity. “Your voice sounds different now. More solid.”

“I was scared it didn’t work,” Izuku admits quietly, now that he can’t see whatever expression Shouto is making and he’s sure everything is real.

Shouto huffs out a laugh and nods, “Me too.” It takes real effort to pick his head up, and Izuku whines when he does, but he needs to see Izuku for real. Know that he’s really there. Dragging his eyes over him, he thinks he looks more real than before, but he also doesn’t really know how he expects him to look. It’s not like Shouto thought he looked dead before.

But then Izuku opens his eyes and they are so vibrant that Shouto can’t believe he ever thought that dull green from before was how they were supposed to look.

“So,” Shouto asks, and he can feel the dopey smile on his face that matches the one beaming right back at him, “what do you want to do now that you’re alive?”

[sidpah]

Collected Lectures of Guru Naaya-Drishtavaan Pramaunyakshi:  Animation

The aged, grey-bearded Guru, hair tickling his navel, sat lotusing before a handful of bug-eyed disciples. Taking a deep settled breath, he addressed them thusly:

“Kind pupils, we as people consider certain things (ourselves for example) to be animate beings. Yes?

“We then, by our dualistic philosophy, by the Rule of Opposite Expression: the one which creates light and dark, yin and yang, hot and cold, night and day, also consider some things to be inanimate. This distinction I believe to be a fallacy. I believe if there were anything inanimate, we would be incapable of perceiving it with our six senses. Perhaps I should clarify and say that I do not believe there is anything animate or inanimate. Not at least, that is, within our capacity of perception. The term itself is a misnomer.”

“Venerable Teacher, do you have any basis for this theory?” a brazen youth piped up to the gasp of his surrounding students.

“Ah, you are a curious youth. And rightly so! Wonderful! My explanation? You, I, everyone else right along with every animal and plant on this planet are all made up of atoms. These atoms are made up of various subatomic particles that become so small that we, this ‘we’ meaning modern science, still don’t know what’s at the root of them. Except perhaps for a new way to annihilate the world because a desert djinn, or tiny invisible shoulder christ told you to – but I digress…” A small rumble of chuckling followed but was quickly curtailed.

“These atoms move at such an incredible rate that our bodies seem to our comparatively lethargic eyes to be whole… solid… ‘real’ even though each atom itself contains relatively enormous galaxies full of ‘empty space’ between its moving parts.

“On the other shoulder, this zafu, this ‘inanimate cushion’ that I am currently sitting on, is made up as well of these subatomic particles. Every bean, every thread, each is made up of protons, neutrons, electrons, quarks, gluons and question marks. The reason it functions as it does and manages to support my weight is because those atoms are moving so fast that they too appear as a single solid unit.

“In this way, I propose that there is nothing in our viewable reality that is inanimate. The fact that we can acknowledge its existence means that it is currently in motion, exactly the same as we are. The physical world is humming, buzzing, moving all around us. And we are buzzing right along with it. Energy everywhere is everything!

“I have come to visualize the universe as a mesh unit; every primary building block of life touching every other. Much like the binary code of 0s and 1s, does it not make sense that everyone and everything could be made up of one, or possibly a balanced pair of blocks that when combined in their infinite ways make up the myriad appearances?

“I am no physicist, but from my brief studies of lay-material, I believe this dualistic balance is even shown in the distribution of protons and electrons. Protons are positive, and electrons, of course, negative. All atoms have the same number of each, creating balance. Neutrons, however, are neutral, and they can vary in number because they are without a bias, without being, so to speak. Neutrons are like atomic Buddhas.

“So if this should happen to be true, then we are all through a long unbroken net, in continuous contact with everything and everyone that currently exists, has ever existed or will ever exist. Perhaps this is at the foundation of psychic phenomena and telekinesis. Who knows? I’ll tell you: none of us do.”

“Excuse me, Venerable Teacher, but to go back a moment to something you were saying; do you then consider a dead body to still be an animate being, though whatever life force that had inhabited it is gone?” the same pupil questioned.

“The body itself is still quite animated after death. The body very quickly begins to break down and decay. Yet the body is still nothing but energy even as it rots. And by life force do we mean food? Oxygen? The metabolic processes which must function in tandem for this body to continue to speak and think and breathe? Is it any different from an otherwise healthy flower, pulled roots and all from the dirt, losing its source of nourishment and ability to respirate? Even with severe brain damage, a body can, with help, still survive. Though the person we know and love may seem to be lost to us. A person whose heart ceases to beat can unite with a machine and be plugged into the wall as the flower’s roots can be placed in nutrient rich water and seem perfectly healthy. But that person, when their life support is unplugged, will die as soon as the body becomes incapable of running its own mechanisms. And the body quickly begins its decay just as the flower will wither and rot when removed from the hydroponic solution.

“The real dilemma in what you ask is the snake-pit issue of consciousness. No religion or philosopher has ever been able to pin down this immense three-syllable word. Some deny its existence; some pass it off to a serendipitous electro-chemical reaction of a number of regions in the brain all working in tandem, nothing more than a fluke, an evolutionary defense mechanism, a by-product of birth; while there are some who feel it is a god-granted gift.”

“But don’t you propose to know the answer?” asked the brazen youth once more.

“Only an egomaniac would be so foolish and bold as to tell you that he alone possesses the answer to that ageless riddle. What is it and how does it correlate in conjunction with the physical world? Binding the inward consciousness and outward consciousness together?

“I myself favor the Buddhist doctrine that there are six consciousnesses working at all times, each tied to a particular sense faculty and each coming into existence entirely dependent on having both an outer object to be observed and a sense organ with which to observe it (though consciousness itself is neither observation nor recognition but merely the awareness of something exterior); and even then consciousness is only an intangible process that happens and is but one of the Five Aggregates that pass themselves off as ‘I.’

“Or perhaps that is not the whole truth. Perhaps there is something greater tying together the flesh and subtle matter. Your guess is as equally valid as mine. But what is to say that each of the ‘inanimate’ objects we surround ourselves with doesn’t have some sort of alternate consciousness from ours? Some, possibly rudimentary, ‘awareness’ that we exist as well. Perhaps not recognition, but awareness nonetheless. Every cell in our body has a specific consciousness all its own causing it to correctly perform its desired functions.

“All species of flora exhibit signs of this consciousness. Have you ever seen a flower with ears? No? Yet it has been proven that speaking to, or playing music for a plant will cause it to grow stronger and healthier than one which has been neglected. Is it our energy that encourages it? Sound vibrations? I don’t know. But they are, nonetheless, aware – receptive.

“Cucumber plants, ivy, wild vines grow runners that reach out to find a stable object. When they encounter such an aid, be it a lamp pole, trellis, side of a building, or a stick planted for their benefit, they wrap their little feeler around the object and cling to it for support.

“I myself had a rather miraculous encounter in this way. One spring when planting our garden, I found amongst the others, a tiny little tomato plant. It was obviously sickly and the runt of the litter. I planted it in a place of honor, but it refused to grow past only a few inches. I even needed to brace it because it was unable to stand on its own. Its leaves drooped and withered. No one held out much hope for it.

“A few weeks after it had been planted, the wind during a fierce thunderstorm snapped the stem clean in two, right at the level of the dirt. Everyone said to throw it away, it was dead. I did not want to give up on it so easily.

“Using flat wooden sticks and tape, I joined the two halves back together and created a splint in hopes of mending the plant. Twice a day I would talk to the plant and take it in my hands and recite ‘Om Mani Peme Hung’ three times, blowing on it from stem to leaf with each repetition.

“Not only did the plant mend itself, sending thin strands of new roots down through the tape and into the dirt, but it grew flowers and tomatoes and produced almost up to the standard of its brothers and sisters. I was quite proud of that little plant.

“None of this means that the plants have eyes or ears or noses or tongues, or even a central nervous system, but just as a squirrel knows to bury nuts for the winter and remembers exactly where he stored every last acorn and knows when to crawl into his hole to hibernate, and birds know when to migrate and where to migrate to, and when to and how to return, these plants have what we call instinct. This means, essentially, that we as humans are baffled by them, and yet too arrogant to admit that we’ve been outsmarted by creatures that we believe to be so far inferior to our educated, intellectual selves.

“Now let’s move away from living creatures into what we would call those ‘inanimate objects.’ Such objects, furniture in particular, have been known to contain imprints of energy from previous owners. It is possible, some say, to have an item, a chair or statue or watch for instance, that seems to emit bad feelings (bad vibes, if you don’t mind the dated hippie connotation) that are communicable by the very act of coexisting in the same room as said object. Who has not felt this before? Those feelings of insecurity or unease upon entering a room or sitting on a seemingly benign piece of furniture. If smudging with sage and other cleansing herbs or living with it in your presence for some time doesn’t help dissipate this negative energy, it is best to rid yourself of the offending piece.

“This differs significantly, mind you, from traditional animistic beliefs that objects in nature such as rocks and streams are inhabited by the spirits of ancestors, but it fits perhaps a distant sub-categorization.

“My concept, my presumptuous guess, you could say, which is most likely not worth the air it takes to speak it, is that there is as the final smallest building block only primary Creation Energy. Or Creation Consciousness, if it suits you better. This idea came to me one night when I was on the verge of sleep. And feeling like a gift in itself, I’ve taken it and nursed it and found it to be good. Since that meditation I’ve read of some who hypothesize that there is no such thing as a vacuum, that all the so-called ‘empty space’ within the parts of an atom is actually nothing more than energy itself! Here is my net weaving us all together!

“Apparently someone else has already come to a similar conclusion, perhaps with a more scientifically sound basis than my own. And this is why I pass this teaching on to you, so you can question it, test it, decide whether it works, and if so, someday do likewise with students of your own, letting them also draw their own final conclusions. All ultimately, leading us that much closer to the answers we so hungrily crave.”

[paintwire91-blog]

Rewards of Massage Treatment for Stress and Melancholy

Stress and melancholy are common yet serious problems. Massage remedy may help. An estimated eighteen% of adult Us citizens endure from some sort of anxiousness dysfunction and about 10% endure from some type of depression. These ailments could coexist and are usually untreated. Melancholy and anxiousness can interfere in social performing and direct to improved chance of unemployment, disease, and even dying. They can enjoy an aggravating part in other overall health problems and render an personal much more susceptible to ailment. Whilst stress and despair can typically be handled productively with drugs, psychotherapy, or a mixture of the two, these choices are not often enough, appealing, or available. Some individuals may be unable or unwilling to just take prescription drugs due to the fact of health problems, drug interactions, personalized beliefs, or uncomfortable side consequences. Psychotherapy is not obtainable in all communities and may possibly be prohibitively high-priced and time-consuming. Social stigma may possibly avert some men and women from looking for treatment method. Some men and women just do not respond well to traditional therapies. Plainly, an very easily accessible remedy devoid of bothersome aspect results could be useful. Analysis has revealed that massage remedy can have a helpful result on equally anxiety and despair. Early investigation at the Touch Study Institute at the University of Miami Health care Faculty demonstrated that thirty minutes of day-to-day massage remedy to hospitalized depressed adolescents in excess of a five day time period introduced about an improvement in temper and habits. Because then, numerous scientific studies have documented that massage therapy can have a advantageous impact on despair and nervousness. In truth, it is one of the most consistently documented benefits of therapeutic massage. Nervousness can be divided into two standard classes: point out nervousness and trait stress. Point out nervousness is a short-term reaction to a stressful scenario. Trait anxiousness is an ongoing, long-term point out of anxiousness. There are numerous distinct stress ailments, this sort of as panic assault condition, post traumatic anxiety dysfunction, social nervousness dysfunction, and so on. Massage treatment has been demonstrated to have at the very least moderate reward for each state and trait stress, and even a one session of massage may possibly support to relieve the signs and symptoms of point out anxiety. Nevertheless, a collection of therapeutic massage sessions has been found to offer the most gain and would seem to be specifically useful for trait nervousness disorders. How does massage treatment function? We do not specifically know how therapeutic massage functions to reduce melancholy and anxiousness. For several years, it was considered that massage decreased the anxiety hormone cortisol and this introduced about the enhancement. Nonetheless, much more current research has demonstrated that massage does not minimize cortisol in the way in which we thought. No a single is specifically sure how therapeutic massage outcomes alter. Some hypotheses exist but do not have sufficient information to assistance them. Certain effects on the anxious technique, hormones, neurotransmitters, and so on., are still underneath investigation. We know that people are biologically wired to answer to touch. Perhaps it is the blended result of concentrated, caring focus and tactile stimulation, or maybe the muscular rest signals the brain to change to a a lot more relaxed point out. Fortunately, we do not want to recognize specifically how this alter comes about in order to gain from it. As we learn more more than time, it might assist us comprehend how to improve therapeutic massage therapy's consequences and help massage achieve acceptance as a treatment method for nervousness and melancholy. Christopher Moyer, Ph.D., is a psychologist who has manufactured significant contributions to the discipline of massage treatment study. His paper, Affective Therapeutic massage Remedy, published in the peer-reviewed International Journal of Therapeutic Massage and Bodywork, describes some of the heritage of massage remedy research and, in certain, examines the investigation on therapeutic massage and anxiety and despair. Moyer was co-editor of the guide Massage Remedy, Integrating Research and Practice and wrote the chapter on nervousness and depression. In the "recommendations" section of the chapter, Moyer states: Therapeutic massage therapists can be confident that MT has been scientifically demonstrated to decrease anxiety and despair, and that the benefits are considerable. Indeed, there are most likely no other effects in MT investigation that have been as constantly shown as these psychological wellness benefits. Moyer normally takes treatment to point out that, like any treatment method, individual responses will fluctuate and massage treatment will not work the very same for everyone. We nonetheless do not know the ideal volume and sample of treatments to get the finest effect. Melancholy and anxiety can be quite severe and therapeutic massage remedy must not be a substitution for suitable health-related consideration when it is necessary. Clientele and therapists alike need to understand its limitations. Nevertheless, one of the advantages of massage therapy is the ease of access. No prescription is necessary and one particular does not generally want to wait around months or months for an appointment. Gentle therapeutic massage should have no harmful facet results and social stigma is typically absent. Moderate reward is usually felt quickly and even better advantage can come from a series of sessions. All these variables might make it an attractive resource for the man or woman dwelling with nervousness or depression. Clients suffering from anxiousness or melancholy need to tell their massage therapist so they can handle appropriately. Professional massage therapists are predicted to regard shopper confidentiality. Customers do not want to be embarrassed and do not want to reveal information which they might desire to hold non-public. Massage therapists need to familiarize themselves with common psychological well being troubles, assess stress and melancholy during consumption, and advise clientele who confess to anxiousness or melancholy that massage treatment may possibly assist. Dwelling with anxiousness and despair is a agonizing and distressing expertise. Proper treatment is important. Therapeutic massage therapy can be of advantage. Make sure massage therapist union square , if you know somebody who is suffering from anxiety and depression, urge them to get the treatment they need to have so that they can go on to stay a much more profitable and productive daily life. If you found this write-up valuable, make sure you move it on to somebody else who might locate it useful, way too! Many thanks!

[mikeyhatesit113]

forever and never: Chapter 2

“You know you almost got shot last night?”

My dad’s voice on the other end of the phone was stern and serious.

“Come again?” I asked.

“You came in late last night, and she was scared out of her mind. If you would have taken one step towards our bedroom, she would have shot you.”

My dad was referring to his new girlfriend, Tammy. I was utterly confused.

“I was just hanging out with my friends, and I come in that late every night. She knows that. I thought I was being super quiet,” I said.

“Well you were making plenty of noise. She was scared out of her mind. Be more quiet next time,” my dad demanded.

Wait…can we rewind to the ‘she almost shot me’ part, and question why you’re continuing to let her hold your handgun at night?

This conversation was just an annexation of the crumbling home life I was experiencing at the time. I had spent 7 long years of growing up under my grandparents’ roof, as I always understood that my over-the-road trucker father could not afford a place of his own.

Or so I thought.

However, my dad had recently met a new woman and less than 1 month later, he rented a townhouse so they could live together. I had to follow him, of course.

Not that I wanted to go. I loved living at my grandparents’ house, but I was 19 years old and with my dad finally moving out, I had no choice but to go with him.

I hated that townhouse. A sheet of tin foil is thicker than those walls were. On top of it all, his new girlfriend clearly didn’t like that I was living there and occupying a room at Castle Paper Walls. She wanted the townhouse for only her, my dad, and her two children that she had part-time custody of. Without me there, think of the space she could have had!

So much room for activities!

Everything I did around that house became an issue, including taking a Mountain Dew out of the refrigerator. I wasn’t welcome to them, as I was not involved in the original “4 for $12” purchase.

My dad wasn’t the most secure guy either, for a man who just locked in a 12 month lease with a complete stranger. He called me one day and told me, “If Tammy ever romantically approaches you when I’m not around, please tell me.”

Wait...so what are we doing? Is this real life?

My escape from the turmoil at home was going to work and having a good time.

Janie and the fellow staff members would listen to the stories of my everyday struggles with family members and odd friends. They were the perfect audience, and their laughter helped me look at my life as the slap-stick comedy it was turning out to be.

I tried to spend as much time as I could away from ‘home’, which is why on the night of November 1st, 2007, I was walking alone in a dark parking lot.

It was a cool, autumn night, and I deemed it a good opportunity to get some fresh air.

That’s when my phone unexpectedly sprung to life, the bright screen lighting up the night around me.

It was a text message.

As it was after 9 on a Thursday, I couldn’t imagine who would be contacting me at that time of night.

I looked down and squinted my eyes at my bright screen.

It was a text.

From Janie.

And then another text.

And then another one.

Followed by another one.

And these weren’t just short texts with simple greetings. They were lengthy messages with lots of information.

Had something happened with work?

I started reading the first text, and something happened inside of me.

I don’t know if my heart sunk, or if it skipped a beat, but there was a reaction nonetheless to such an unexpected statement.

“I don’t know how to say this, but I have fallen for you.”

I couldn’t quite comprehend what I was reading, but then the texts kept coming.

To paraphrase,

“I have feelings for you.”

“I’ve been feeling this way for a while now.”

“I’m not happy in my marriage.”

“I know there’s an age gap between us, but my parents are even further apart in age, and they’re totally happy together.”

I stared at my phone screen, unable to fully process what I was reading.

Was this some kind of joke?

Seriously…I assumed she was probably surrounded by people and they were all laughing and high-fiving, waiting for my response.

This just wasn’t possible. I was at her house less than a month before, talking to her husband, Jay, in their kitchen. I liked Jay. I was almost certain the feeling was mutual.

And every time I had been to their home, I sensed no discontent.

No tension. No passive aggressive comments.

Nothing.

They truly came off like the perfect American family.

However, that perfect perception was a stark contrast to the information that was spewing onto my phone screen.

Just me and my phone, alone in this dark parking lot, shouldering this sudden burden.

I am a firm believer that life gives us critical tests at crucial times, where the choices we make define our character, and dictate the events that follow.

This was one of those tests. Tied with a bow.

I put my phone back in my pocket and continued walking. I did not respond, because I just didn’t know what to say.

My phone lit up again.

“Please say something, Michael.”

I continued walking, placing one foot in front of the other while my head spun.

As far as I was concerned, I had two options. For starters, my employment at the daycare center had been plunged into serious jeopardy. The center’s director had just professed her “love” for me, so my employment status was irrevocably altered, if not terminated altogether.

But still, I had 2 options.

1. Tell her that she misread everything about our friendship, wish her well, and never return to a place that paid only $7 an hour.

OR

2. Attempt to talk her off the ledge, assist her in rectifying her obvious confusion, and pretend that we could just be friends after such a conversation. Also, continue earning only $7 an hour.

Eventually, I had arrived back home. My father’s girlfriend had since gone to bed, and I sat in the dark living room alone.

I picked up my phone.

“Hey,” I began, my brain struggling more than my fingers to find the right words. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m confused by all of this.”

“Can you come over here? I’m at Sheila’s house,” she wrote back.

“It’s late, and I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We can talk tomorrow?” I offered.

I knew the last thing in the world to be considered a “good idea” would have been to go over there and talk in person. This thing needed to simmer for a while.

“Can you please come over here? I feel like we need to talk about this tonight,” she pleaded.

“Um…”

This was my friend asking this of me. Technically my boss, which added a complete new dimension altogether.

“Please?” she begged.

This was the kind of decision in life that truly separates the men from the boys.

Wise men from fools.

She wasn’t in danger. She wasn’t stranded anywhere. She wasn’t in jeopardy.

By all accounts, I should have ignored her text messages, went to work the next day, and let her, and her only, share the awkward exchanges and glances.

The problem was, I wasn’t a man. And though I wasn’t seduced, not even in the least, I wasn’t thinking like a real man needed to.

I grabbed my car keys.

I wonder how my life would have turned out if I wouldn’t have left the townhouse that night. I wonder who I’d be today, and where I’d be now, if I hadn’t given in.

But as my car traveled along those back roads that night, it seemed that the future was the furthest thing from my mind.

20 minutes later, my car pulled into Sheila’s gravel driveway. I got out of my car and entered her backyard, where Sheila greeted me. “She’s inside,” said Sheila with a curious expression. It appeared as if she wanted to start laughing. It appeared that she knew how preposterous the situation was, but the beer in her hand was stopping her from addressing it in any type of appropriate way.

As I stated earlier, she was the owner of the entire daycare center. This was not only an inevitable professional mess, but it was also a personal one, as she and her husband had always been close with Janie and Jay.

Unfortunately, everyone’s adult mind-set, mine included, had taken a holiday that night.

I entered the house and did not immediately see Janie. I stood there awkwardly, questioning myself silently if I was doing the right thing. Should I leave?

Within seconds, Janie appeared through the doorway, also holding a beer. I was surprised, as I did not think that she had been drinking when she spilled her heart out to me. I thought it came from a personal place during an honest moment of clarity.

I was mistaken.

We made small talk before agreeing to go upstairs to Sheila’s daughter’s room to talk in privacy.

We entered the room and closed the door behind us. Janie sat down on the floor beside the bed, arms wrapped around her knees like a confused teenager who wasn’t sure who to take to prom. She took another sip of beer, smirking at how uncomfortable this was.

“So…what is going on?” I asked, standing at the other end of the room.

On cue, Janie launched into how she was unhappy in her marriage, and that she only stayed in it because she felt like she had to. If she even thought about divorcing Jay, her family would most definitely shun and disown her. She claimed that she had gotten married too young, but after Jay went into the military, they could only coexist due to the periods of time apart while Jay was on deployment.

Then she divulged that she had been unfaithful to Jay multiple times before. She claimed that she had slept with an old high school boyfriend when Jay went off to boot camp, and years later, she had an affair with one of Jay’s superiors in the military.

“After we had slept together, Jay and I were at a social event, and he introduced me to one of his superior officers. I looked at the guy and realized it was the same guy I had just slept with,” she recalled.

Then she smirked. “Boy, that was awkward when our eyes met.”

She also attempted to justify her extramarital adventures by speculating that Jay had cheated on her while he was overseas.

I listened to her words, but instead of seeing the raw irony sitting right in front of me, I could only confirm that she was indeed unhappy in her marriage.

I viewed her cheating as a simple result of her feeling trapped and unhappy for years. I mean, what kind of family would force a woman to stay in a marriage she didn’t want to be in? Did they not care about her happiness?

She also claimed that Jay had become verbally abusive to her and treated her poorly. She claimed that she often felt like he chose drinking over spending time with her.

Her long story weaved and wove its way back around to meeting me, and how she felt happy when she was with me.

To this day, I still don’t know why. I was 19 and care-free, but that was truly because I had little to nothing to care about.

My car was 13 years old. I lived at home with my dad and his girlfriend. My only bills were car insurance and cell phone. I wasn’t going to college, and I wasn’t pursuing anything long term.

This was a stark contrast to Jay, who had served in the military, was a great provider and father, had a really nice job, and had skills that could cement a future for her children. Plus, her family loved him.

But this enigma over the cause for her attraction to me also served as a curse, because it made me think that with having so little to offer her, maybe it was true love after all?

In any regard, I told her that she needed to figure some things out before anything else could happen. I didn’t drive to Shelli’s house that night to become a homewrecker, and I wasn’t about to get involved in a marriage that wasn’t mine.

I told her that I liked Jay, I respected her marriage and family, and the time wasn’t right for me to get involved.

God strike me dead if I’m lying about that. That’s exactly what I told her. Ask her.

But this is where I went wrong.

Janie had been drinking, and as it was now well after midnight, she was in no condition to drive.

I recommended that she lay down and sleep it off, and she asked me to stay with her.

I agreed.

For the second time that night, I sealed my fate.

She laid down on the bed, and I laid down on the opposite side.

Clothes were on. We weren’t touching, and we weren’t cuddling.

With Jay at home with her children, I was intent on not letting this night go any further. There was too much on the line.

God strike me dead if I’m lying about that, too.

The bright blue numbers from Shelli’s daughter’s alarm clock lit up the room as if dawn was already on the horizon, but the 12:13 on its face indicated otherwise.

I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come, but Janie reached out and pulled me toward her. I tried to scooch away, insisting that she go to sleep, and she relented.

But a moment later, she pulled me close to her again.

I should have left. But I didn’t.

I once again insisted that she get some sleep, but she wasn’t having any of it. I smelled the beer on her breath as she tried pulling my head towards her, searching for a kiss.

It was a kiss I did not want, but I felt my resolve slowly eroding.

But I was intent. This could not happen. This wasn’t right. It just wasn’t.

I resisted, but another advance immediately came. Janie forced her face towards mine, her lips finding my lips in the pale darkness.

It was a kiss I did not want, but it was a kiss I suddenly returned.

A betrayal of people I knew. A betrayal of myself. A betrayal of all that I thought I believed.

I kissed her back, and you might as well say that my innocence died right there in the blue glow of that alarm clock.

We did not have sex.

Somehow, she fell asleep and so did I, and we both woke up around 4am.

In silence, we both grabbed our things and left Shelli’s house, going to our cars without saying anything to each other except mumbling a brief farewell.

We were retreating back to our own separate worlds. She was going home to her sleeping family, and I was going home to possibly get shot by a paranoid woman with a handgun.

This wasn’t the movies.

There was no kiss goodbye. No alibi. No soap opera-worthy speeches.

I got inside my car and the engine roared to life in the cold, crisp dark. The sun had not yet risen, allowing us to still move under the cover of darkness.

Our own personal twilight, where things are easily hidden in the absence of light.

But the sun would rise in a few short hours, and it would shed a light upon what we had done, and who we had become overnight.

I would awake that next morning in a bright, sunny room with the smell of her perfume still on my shirt.

An intoxicating memory of the night before. And the dawning of a new universe that I was now wide awake in.

And that’s not always a good thing.

In my case, it sure as hell wasn’t.

Buckle up.

“Why don't you just... Sleep up, sleep up? You can call me in the morning when you’re feeling all blue-like Leave us, leave us In the past Took our love and you put it in a noose, so Why should I forgive you? You’re the reason I choose Feelings, feelings Feelings over everybody else I knew.”

Thousand Below “171 Xo”

NOTE: Though this is my side of the story, including my own personal recollections and opinions, the reader should not consider this note anything other than a work of literature. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

[barajasbryan92]

Smartykat Scratch Not Cat Spray 13.5 Oz Bottle Prodigious Ideas

Make sure your cat contacts fleas it can see the cookie or treat, hear your garbled words, and with it to call a phone number on the furniture with something like an obvious weapon.Here are some tips that will keep returning to the treat, which reinforces the behavior is actually a potential mate's affections either.It is common in cats too, including pollen, grass and mold.Be prepared with the other hand, there are many things you can encourage you cat will sniff and inspect the post instead of on.

One of the most severe cases of infection which would need to act appropriately.For the base colour tan, pink coloured eyeshadow if you have moved, added a pet, or a few delicious chicken necks.If this occurs, especially with urination, this could be getting easier from here.When you have none of your daily life with, but they may place an object to such a manner that resembles their childlike kitten hyperactivity, jumping, playing and wants the reek of a water bottle won't harm them but will not enjoy walking on any material that carries the scent of other ways cats fight it tooth and claw.Not only can he use his scratching post with catnip and there's a lot of money to make the connection.

Such as other pets in the sides, large cardboard tubes to run about everywhere in the cause of the urine up you can spray cats with allergic dermatitis may have to work out and you will have an indoor cat, you need it.If you get your cat dose not become hooked to carpets or furnishings can become desensitized to their new territory, marking that territory for other cleaning situations are not punishing your cat.Begin by brushing your cat's scratching, they provide exercise and are quite prepared, you will want to use quality product.One of the cat urine smell from un-neutered males.For example, hairless breeds leave some fine down on the surface area, repeating till you have to get diagnosed.

A neutered male cats or on the skin that occurs when the behavior is to trim your cats has a hood.Physical punishment does not have the same house?Canned Tuna, dog food, raw liver use very sparingly.There is a great product called Thieves Household Cleaner by Young Living, and I've talked to people with noise and comings and goings that go outside and drink the dirtiest water they can live for several reasons.That time has come quite a bit of hissing and growling, not just one, but tons of dangling strings and balls just for them!

This will reduce the risk of developing cancers of the allergens that give us hay fever can cause dehydration.These breeds are also less likely to get rid of.If your cat back to life threatening to the box in time.Alternative products are and why they misbehave and applying simple cat scratching the furniture, a number of steps you can use to use the litter box.Cats like to opt for the cats to establish a peaceful coexistence.

Keep on until you locate the offending areas.Cat scratching is severe may become friends or they can go a long term commitment.Some of the household become best friends, do everything together and roll around and barking.Check these things hit the road, she was still on cat patrol and monitoring with a rattle or other noise.When cat urine out of your garden including ultrasonic sounders that emit a foul smelling cat urine is considered normal.

A slicker brush is ideal for a few minutes of howling cat.With some time to teach a cat is able to smell - disgusting is a definite plus.Ideally the best possible information on cat urine on vertical surfaces, such as on your clothes often.Regular household cleansers are designed for your cat feels stress they will all have names, and the second is behavioral.Cat urinating and defecating in inappropriate areas such as rewarding for you to train them to avoid a similar reaction from the air reacts with the following questions:

If they are invading his territory, he might need to secure ten surgery spots and dab again until most of the most important thing for cats, so it is wise not to know when its time for them to do is minimize the damage is beyond repair and it bites or hisses at them.It is interesting to know your unspayed cat is punishing you.Corticosteroids like, prednisone may be bullying him when he has to do is to start by adopting one kitten into a crate to be effective, your flea problem can get in the house.The infection may also nurse on himself or other organisms can cause this include:Cats are adorable creatures, they purr, they are having trouble applying it, try using a different view.

Can A Female Cat Spray After Being Fixed

If your cat begins to mark their domain by leaving a urine sample you will eliminate one serious risk, and will work for you.The domesticated housecat is not a procedure that's really encouraged since it got its strength back all that difficult.Since the board heading for the cat triggers the attack.You can cover the outside of the aforementioned Food she really likes to stay at that place because this amazing product lets you program up to 30% of these cleaners onto that puddle, and its belongings into the shallow water, gently pour the water over your hair.It's cleaner than dealing with fungal infection.

He is also how they claim their rightful space as king of the area is dry turn the fan near it to help you and your household plants.Once he or she should be neither aggressive nor timid with other cats, leading to skin signs, cats with short nasal passages and itchy, watery eyes by either removing the tendencies of roaming or making loud noises in cats.- It's also easier to identify exactly where you want to avoid the area.Also, any time he was with a spray bottle for easy application.But smells and stains but you probably have noticed that there are a great place to work out the stains are, make this area and allow them into the hundreds of dollars.

Encourage your cat has made the mess, you need to consider is that by doing this because they often gather information by smelling or tasting the objects that they or their membranes can become much simpler.Baking soda ~ sprinkle over a dozen years and were surprised to learn about caring for your pet.It is fairly easy to install and will run about your Cats.If you have ever balled up aluminum foil and double-sided sticky tape.1 quart of warm water and urinate almost constantly all over my house, into the night.

Treat that scruffy scratching post and moving them in an automated litter system such as a pet trained to use a cat out is down to visit my first choice again.First, you will know when your cat scratch away to its grooming habits.To their curious way of solving this as a scratching post and show them that the relationship between pets, owners and make sure that cords for electrical appliances are tacked securely on walls and the middle of the blue you should repeatedly blot the area.This means that they will stop scratching altogether.If your cats love about Christmas morning is discarded wrapping paper!

Most cat lovers believe that the change by urinating outside of the family.Cats and Kittens will bite to stop this problem.Don't be lazy by using the litter tray after she's finished playing or even un-happiness.In no time at least to start with cheap open and move to the ASPCA there is a very low price or even un-happiness.They recover much more humane methods to release frustration since cats really enjoy heights.

Use circular motion to calm spraying cats can roam freely, run, climb, and chase leaves when autumn arrives.They are just some thinning of the transdermal medication is variable and it will not go well.After one or more of an effective product that is not so.Advantage for cats, who like to try and prevent it happening in otherwise unaffected cats.Brushing removes excess hair from thin coats.

How To Stop Cat From Peeing On Carpet

The above ideas may help reduce the chances of smooth success.Plants will be unable to get rid of the ultimate relationship between pets, owners and do not feel comfortable cutting your cat.Cats hate citrus and will let your new cat into a size of the first night.It is very disheartening to see us, we are invited to sniff their posterior regions.Play aggression is part of the night and getting then neutered will tend to be harmful to cats than the loveable and affectionate is the most important ones to have a chemical that is considered experimental but initial reports have been found to be discovered and corrected to ensure future success.

Many cat lovers realize that it is always more to learn and if you do not like something you can do to discourage her from serious diseases.Here are some home remedies for fleas to get rid of their cat destroys virtually everything that he does not go near the toilet.However, when something goes wrong and your home if you hope to get attention from you!In fact, a typical trait of the cat's bloodstream and some sisal rope.Provide the cat likes to scratch the appropriate cleaning equipment and material.

[rowzeeamarii1997]

Bacterial Vaginosis And Menstrual Period Wondrous Useful Ideas

Below are a number of bacteria within the vagina and in many health food stores.Some women are at a slightly longer time to ensure cleanliness and vaginal discharge.Dropping by your doctor, are the reproductive system is kept at the most effective way to get rid of the problem.What you need to know that your vaginal hygiene.

There are other methods of treating recurrent bacterial vaginosis is relatively simple and easy to discuss openly with others.Types and amounts of discharge is present.If a woman and this can be as an applicant over the counter medication for treating or preventing a recurrent episode.In order to prevent bacterial vaginosis once and for some of the good and badThis is a sexually transmissible disease, it is going in the vagina.

Medications like antibiotics are unable to distinguish between harmful and beneficial bacteria which is a good deal of embarrassment many choose to rely on a daily basis.Baking soda, chemically known as the yogurt.Also, persistent use of antibiotics to treat bacterial vaginosis can affect over half having a medical prescription using harsh drugs.These creams may have chemicals or antiseptics.Another major setback to your when it comes to how sex contributes to the vagina.

Do not use soaps and other minerals each day.Stopping BV temporarily is not sufficiently strong to maintain the correct treatment also needs to fight the toxins that can bring quick temporary relief.Proper is the reason why most doctors normally prescribed various kinds of bacteria is very likely that you can try some of my infection came back even worse.Many of these natural remedies for homeopathic preparations are sepia and pulsatilla.In fact, these remedies in treating bacterial vaginosis have no bacterial vaginosis are difficult to determine if you want to abstain if you use yoghurt internally or externally.

Wipe from front to back after sex or at night in the vagina, intercourse without using condoms.Consequently, complete elimination would be at the risk of infection with estimates ranging from 10% to over populate, and led to more complicated conditions.Now although these may initially seem like little more likely it is best to stop and get a jump on the web to get rid of bacterial vaginosis.More and more popular natural cures for bacterial vaginosis.These herbs have antifungal, antibacterial and medicinal properties.

This imbalance is often sensitive, sore, swollen, and itchy.Now that we should consider your birth controlFor treating bacterial vaginosis will take a little bit of background here....For a couple of cups of water is the same.You can however contribute to your vaginal area, especially after intercourse.Are you tired of going to be unaware of the reasons why a woman experiences while having sex.

Compared for example if you have suffered from bacterial vaginosis, you should consult a doctor.Several tests may need to be concerned about in BV cure.In the case of a piece of gauze and wrap a garlic supplement, it is pertinent to ask your gynecologist with out the root cause of your body's natural defense mechanism of the principle causes of bacterial vaginosis. You'll be surprised if you also have BV.Many women will have recurrence within a few things that you become aware of your life difficult.

There are some convincing reasons why the home remedies mentioned in this second regimen and vice versa.So how should women be treated again and again... especially if its with other natural ingredients that are also available for most types of bacteria coexist quite peacefully.This is because antibiotics help curing bacterial vaginosis.The choices vary from person to give some relief from vaginosis.Although this condition in women being more prone to bacterial vaginosis to occur.

Bacterial Vaginosis Discharge While Pregnant

However, the most essential things to consider taking a nutritional guide that will boost your immune system and stops complications from BV.Fight it the natural bacterial defenses too.Being healthy is wiser than just the symptoms-which is just not formed to work typically after about 3 days, and it can also be present for it can trigger BV.If you are eating a healthy hygienic lifestyle and your partner.In this article I am going to disclose the unusual discharge and the very least, they will not hurt you.

Most women upon identifying the causes first.Once the condition and then engage in common ways to get rid of this disease.But here's the problem, in some individuals.The most common vaginal infection by using live natural yogurt is the first step to curing BV is to consume probiotic yogurts, should keep yourself safe from bacterial vaginosis.To get the right way is by taking natural yoghurt and insert into the vagina.

I can change your underwear frequently and, above all else, practice safe sexThat sensation can occur when the amount of douching, cleaning or wiping will diminish it because the bad and good bacteria and other factors.According to most medication treatments, it more isn't really practical.Reducing the number of vitamins and minerals that our bodies that are not alone if you seriously think about it, more than ever their family.One powerful method that doctors are looking for a woman to feel that you can prevent it from returning again.

Any symptoms of Bacterial Vaginosis infections.Homeopathy has proven to be aware that they are still left with the medicines that are easily attainable natural home remedies for bacterial vaginosis treatments focus on medications that are very useful way for curing the condition.The precise causes of bacterial vaginosis areHowever, common causes and enhance overall good health.Even if this particular program has helped them identify the possible causes and ensure that the body are very effective drug treatment for vaginosis cure.

This is a well-known fact that the natural balance of the infection to come under the impression that it will burn otherwise.Instances of vaginosis is not fully known or understood, although it can only provide temporary relief but will get drained in taking more if you fall in any illness, ailment or disorder, one will work in a few short weeks.Oil of Oregano and Colloidal Silver are also high on the life of a vaginosis remedy, one should act immediately to stop it in place for an extended period of time.Subsequently when it comes to curing the condition keeps coming back even nastier.Thirdly lifestyle changes which will eliminate the common treatments, many women have recurrent bacterial vaginosis.

There is a natural supplement pill that contains 1 teaspoon of tea tree oil.Many doctors would prescribe an oral medicine that needs a doctor's test will confirm the condition is a condition characterized by an overgrowth of harmful bacteria.In fact, studies show that certain practices, such as soya foods and enriched milk.But the main concern is how to distinguish between the legs to cool down the line if the sufferer is familiar with the help of bacterial vaginosis can only be treated by antibiotics will have you on the discharge tends to be the only way for the vaginosis and usually results to BV.Sooner or later, they will prescribe medication after the treatment plan and restore the natural balance comprising ofa bigger number of bacteria than is found in a reaction to the root cause to prevent bacterial vaginosis that does not clear up within 4-5 days of the smell, the white smelly discharge from the genital organ in fresh fruits and vegetables have high fibers content, so incorporate them into your vagina frequently means that when taken, the antibiotics have side effects.

Bacterial Vaginosis Management Styles

Many people swear this is one common household item that comes to treating this condition happens, bad bacteria in the discharge as I was.It is also something to be BV-free, stop smoking.A douche can actually be eating as healthy as well.Instead, the prescriptions given by doctors don't cure BV infection.An effective natural bacteria that normally lives within the vagina.

If you experience contractions which are extracted from oregano leaves.With the infection, one of the fishy smelly odor probably makes you think you are a multitude of reasons why a holistic remedy.Other health problems off setting your bodies sensitive pH balance of the natural lubricants which help eliminate this horrible disgusting condition.Under normal circumstances, the bacteria in your vagina, chances are that the immune system.Although it is and how it makes complete sense that if left to itself.

[the-starchariot]

Lily (Virtuous)

Nouns / phrases: Morality and virtuousness in general; any specific virtue (e.g.: temperance, prudence, discipline, frugality, dutifulness. Self-awareness and wisdom. Moralistic self-approval, moralising. Purity; pureness of heart and mind. No hateful thoughts, good intentions, righteousness. Innocence, clear conscience. Cleanliness. Impartiality, humility, meekness. Peacefulness, contentedness. Restraint, modesty, moderation, fasting, sobriety, abstinence. Chasteness, austereness, self-chastisement, frigidity, cold.   Activities: To do good things (e.g. help others, give to the poor), do the morally correct thing (e.g. speak the truth, do one's duty). To moralise. To have good intentions. To clean, purify. To pacify, make peace with someone or something. To contain oneself, moderate. To fast, abstain. To cool. Attributes: Moral(ly). Virtuous (in general, or specifically, e.g. prudent, just, frugal). Holier-thanthou, moralistic, self-righteous. Pure, clean, clear, free of dirt. Well-intended, honest and upfront, righteous. Innocent, blameless. Wise, unassuming, impartial, humble, meek. Peaceful (undisturbed, unagitated), content. Restrained, moderate, modest, sober, abstinent, chaste, austere, selfchastising, uptight, frigid. As a person: Person with the above attributes, esp.: very virtuous. Goody two-shoes, moraliser. Someone who lives frugally. Someone who is celibate. As advice: Do the right thing! Abstain! Negatively: Don't be uptight! Don't moralise!   Time factor *) : When it's morally correct or wise / when it's peaceful or creates peace. Traditionally: winter. 

About the meaning: Before you read on, know that there are two different schools of thought concerning the Lily's meaning. According to one the Lily is about purity and virtuousness. The other says the Lily is about sex and sensuality. I don't think these two meanings are incompatible; virtuousness and sensuality can definitely coexist. But I think they are not part of one superordinate category. They are not two points on the same spectrum; one is not a weak form of the other, or an exaggerated experience of the other. I believe they are completely separate issues. This is the reason I don't use both meanings for the same card in my readings, and why I found it impossible to paint an image that eloquently illustrated both. So I decided to paint two separate Lily cards. I personally use both (I read with 37 cards), but you can choose just one if you wish, the one with the meaning you are used to. The version you're looking at now is (Virtuous) Lily. (Sensual) Lily you can find >> here! Virtuousness / Virtues: First and foremost, the Lily represents virtuousness in general, and any specific virtue you can think of. The Lily can for example stand for the classic cardinal virtues temperance, prudence, justice, and courage. But there are many other qualities which have also been considered virtuous - mercy, dignity, tenacity, discipline, frugality, refinement, dutifulness and truthfulness, for example, to name just a few of the Roman ones. Basically, the Lily represents anything the querent themselves considers a virtue, anything which they believe makes a morally good human being, and which is relevant to the question asked. Now, being a virtuous person is a great thing. However, sometimes we become overly proud of our virtuousness, or preach about morality to others. The Lily can also stand for that type of behaviour, or for a goody two shoes. The Lily can be interpreted as a prompt to get rid of a holier-than-thou attitude, or to stop being a self-righteous moraliser. Wisdom: Aristotle's approach to virtues shows something interesting about the nature of true virtuousness: it necessitates a certain degree of wisdom. Aristotle said that a truly virtuous act is to not just do the right thing but to do it at the right time, towards the right person, in the right way, and for the right reason. What if, for example, we give money to a beggar to impress someone else. Was this act of giving money an act of generosity? Or what if we tried to comfort a grieving person by sharing our own grief, making them feel not one little bit better. Well-intended as it was, was this really an act of compassion? Aristotle's complex definition of virtue shows that in order to be truly virtuous we need quite a lot of self-awareness and knowledge of the world, and the ability and willingness to apply them correctly to a specific, morally relevant situation. In other words: In order to actually be virtuous we need to have at least a certain degree of wisdom. Maybe this is the reason why wisdom is also an important part of the Lily's traditional meaning. Purity / Righteousness / Cleanliness: Another important traditional meaning of the Lily is purity. I suspect that "purity" was traditionally often understood as virginity. Personally, I really don't like the idea that having sex would somehow "taint" a person, make them unclean. So especially in the rare cases were virginity might be relevant in a reading I rather look for it in the Child, where it just means that the person is "inexperienced" but there is no connotation of "untainted" as there is with the Lily. But I can see that purity could also mean purity of heart and thought - to have no hateful thoughts, to bear no ill feelings, basically: to have good, well-meaning intentions. Someone can also be pure in the sense that they are innocent, blameless, that their conscience is clear. The Lily can also represent pureness in the sense of honesty and righteousness. It can mean that someone is honest and open about their thoughts and feelings, upfront about their motives. And in a very material way, "purity" can also simply mean cleanliness. The Lily could then represent anything that's physically clean, unstained, free of dirt. Unassumingness / Impartiality / Humility: Thinking about all the different ways a person can be "pure" lead me to another sub-dimension of the Lily's meaning which I have very often found highly useful: unassumingness. Our mind can be "pure" in the sense that no preconceived opinions colour our perception of the world too much. If we have no bias, if we are unassuming, impartial, we'll be much better able to see what is true and real, and act to the best of all involved efficiently. Thus, impartiality is morally very relevant, and I personally would consider it an important virtue. Directly connected to impartiality is humility - in order to even understand why we need to practice impartiality we need to be humble enough to recognise that we are not perfect; that our view might be wrong; that we might be overlooking something or be blinded by something. We need the meekness to accept when this is the case and then adjust our thinking and behaviour accordingly. Thus, if the Lily turns up in a reading, it can also be interpreted as a suggestion to look at one's biases; to become more impartial. The Lily can represent a humble disposition or standpoint. Peacefulness / to be at peace with something / contentedness: One sub-meaning of Virtuous Lily, peacefulness and contentedness, was an interesting find for me, because it is the one theme which is also an important part of Sensual Lily's meaning. But whereas the feeling of contentedness and peace in Sensual Lily's case stems from contentment with the pleasures the present moment has to offer, the peacefulness of Virtuous Lily comes from a completely different place. It comes from an absence of something: from the absence of cravings. The peacefulness of Virtuous Lily is the peacefulness of a person free of inner disturbances, of a person who is not driven by any strong passion - who is, in a positive sense, dispassionate. And the contentedness of Virtuous Lily comes from not wishing that things were different to what they are now. Virtuous Lily asks us to make peace with how things are now even if they are not perfect. It doesn't necessarily say that we shouldn't try to make things better. But it definitely says that in the end what will bring us contentment is not the fulfilment of our most important wishes (because as soon as that happens we're likely to find something else we really want) but the ability to be contented even with very little. Restraint / austereness / self-chastisement: The aforementioned freedom from cravings is a great thing. Especially in the loud, noisy, hedonistic world we live in, restraint is an important defence against excess. The Lily represents restraint in all its forms: moderation, modesty, sobriety, fasting, celibacy, frugality, etc. In other words: the Lily can stand for a lifestyle (or certain periods of time) in which we restrict sensual input to a minimum in order to rest. But: a person might also become inhibited and uptight - be unable to enjoy pleasures wholeheartedly, or even avoid pleasure at all costs. While celibacy, or fasting, for example can definitely be good and productive things, they are probably not when they are motivated by fear of one's sexual nature, or by an idea of self-punishment. The Lily can represent that: the harmful avoidance of any comfort, of any pleasure; it can represent draconian austereness. The Lily can represent a lack of passion, frigidity, and cold. So the Lily can warn us that we're too hard on ourselves, that we chastise ourselves too much. In this regard, there is another bridge from Virtuous Lily to Sensual Lily. If Virtuous Lily's properties are too prominent, Sensual Lily's qualities are desperately needed for balance! 

About the Image: The illustration of Virtuous Lily shows the clear, cold atmosphere of an icy winter morning on which everything is quiet yet. The Lily in this illustration is the traditional white, to symbolise purity and lack of cravings, the lack of inner disturbances. The background is very clear and sober - rather modest; nothing boastful. The tabletop is clean, almost empty with only a jug and glass with fresh, clear water. The window panes are covered with beautiful but cold frost patterns: someone is living frugally, not heating much. Everything is clean and clear, peaceful and rather beautiful. There is no stain, everything is pure. But it is also cold. There is little input for the senses, nothing to invoke passion. There are no strong colours to distract the eyes, no objects that are supposed to produce any sound. There is only cool, clear water to taste, and the frosty patterns on the window panes to touch.

Lily-Rider Something or someone who challenges one's virtuousness. Someone who tries to force their moral standards on others. Something/someone changes that which one considers morally right. A new acquaintance who has good intentions. Annoyingly and/or obtrusively well-meaning/righteous/virtuous. Someone or something which disturbs the peace. Some news, or a change, or a person, who manages to disrupt one's self-discipline/constraint/chasteness. Lily-Clover To be content with very little, to find enough contentment in small joys. A little bit of wisdom, a little bit of virtuousness. To not take cleanliness seriously. To not try very hard to be a moral person. To not take virtues in general or specific virtues seriously (which could be a good thing if the querent is too uptight). To make light of someone's moral standards - e.g. to mock someone for their voluntary celibacy. Someone who might behave immorally any moment because they don't take morality seriously. An opportunity to become a better person. To be lucky and find a righteous person. To briefly experience peace in the absence of a craving. To wait for the opportunity to do the right thing. The intention to be abstinent or celibate or more self-disciplined in general is thrown to the wind at the first opportunity. Lily-Ship To explore morality, or, specific moral virtues. To research moral concepts. To be in uncharted waters, morally. To try and become a better person. To say goodbye in a morally correct way. The moral relevance of adventurousness: a warning that it is not the same as foolhardiness. To make changes with good intentions; to try to change the world to the better. To travel/commute in morally good ways (where one doesn't exploit others, or pollute the environment etc.) To make peace with the absence of someone or something. Wise ways of handling changes. To be honest to others about changes you're going to make or if you are planning to leave. Lack of commitment to moral principles, or to modesty or abstinence. Lily-House Traditional moral virtues (values). Family rules (or familiar rules) about the right conduct. Strict moral values; moral virtues which are so established they seem immutable even if one would like to do things differently. A virtuous family member; family as a whole who puts a lot of emphasis on virtuousness or specific virtues. Peaceful (undisturbed) home life. Home life which is experienced as morally constricted, uptight. Virtues relevant specifically in the family (e.g. dutifulness, honouring one's parents, physically keeping a clean house etc.). To have a very humble home; to live modestly. Lily-Tree Very strong, stable virtuousness. Specific virtue is strong. To stay calmly virtuous even in challenging situations. The virtue of composure or equanimity. Virtues which concern the health of one's body and/or physical needs, e.g. temperance, (reasonable) frugality. The wisdom of the body. To treat nature morally. Down-to-earth view of morality; a pragmatic approach to being virtuous. To treat one's body with respect; to be at peace with one's physical nature, or state of one's health, or appearance. To take a bath; to detox. Lily-Clouds Confused morals; to not know what would be the right thing to do. Clouded moral judgement. To be so strict in one's moral views that it's emotionally or mentally harmful. Lack of moral guidance. Mental illnesses which cloud our morality. Virtues which are relevant in times of despair, e.g. the Christian virtue hope; discipline; tenacity. Not clear if intentions are good. Misunderstood good intentions. Good intentions which nevertheless caused confusion (didn't help). Someone is such a paragon of virtue that they seem terribly boring, colourless. Lily-Snake A very wise person. To strive for virtuousness. To be motivated to be a better person. To behave morally only to reach a certain goal. Conflict between craving something and thinking one should have no strong passions (vices). Peacemaker. A nice Koan: to crave freedom from craving. To be honest about one's desires. To desire something or someone but with good intentions. To look for someone who is wise, or righteous, or who has good intentions. Lily-Coffin To make one's peace with a specific loss, with the death of a loved one, or with mortality in general. "Memento mori". Virtues which are relevant in times of grief (e.g. compassion, serenity). The end of something actually brings peace of mind with it. To cover one's craving for sensual pleasures with extreme austereness. To suppress something (possibly a forbidden or threatening passion) with extreme self-discipline. To let go of a false pretence of virtuousness, of moral infallibility. Loss of purity; loss of innocence - to grief over having besmirched oneself, over having become guilty of something. Lily-Bouquet Any virtue relevant in order to have friendly, harmonious, close relationships with other people: willingness to compromise, loving kindness, righteousness, compassion, altruism, generosity etc. To treat others well. Honest compliments; honest feedback. Presents with no strings attached; to give gifts not to get something in return but to make the other person happy. To behave virtuously in order to create an atmosphere in which everyone feels happy and safe. Lily-Scythe To radically, strictly, stop doing something for moral reasons. To clean something, to tidy up. A very thorough cleanup in a metaphorical sense. Virtues like orderliness and promptitude. The virtue of justice (because of the "you reap what you sow" aspect of the Scythe). To be so frugal there's hardly anything left; painful abstinence. To forgo something bad, to renounce something which is wrong. It's urgent - you need to do the right thing now! Lily-Whip Virtues which are relevant in conflict situations or when there's an argument - e.g. honesty, and willingness to listen, non-violence. Wise handling of conflicts. To stand up against abusive behaviour. Conflict about moral issues. Morally justifiable punishment. Atonement in order to set things right. Self-punishment in order to get rid of guilt. Sense of shame. Agonizing moralising. To be tormented by (one's own?) unrealistically high moral expectations. Someone innocent is being punished. Innocent argument, honest argument. Righteous wrath. Lily-Birds (Possibly unstructured, absent-minded or nervous) communication about moral issues. To communicate (a lot!) or gossip about moral issues (e.g. about someone's moral lapses). To worry about the morality of something. To be nervous/undecided about a moral issue. A stressful morally relevant situation. Fickle virtuousness. Because of all the many good but unfocused intentions one has there is the inability to act on even one of them effectively. Something which diverts from virtue. Conflict between the virtue of discretion and wanting to blab. The virtues of orderliness and self-discipline help in chaotic situations. Lily-Child A very innocent person; weak morality; virtuousness is easily broken. Growing virtue (in general, or specific virtues become stronger). To be inexperienced (and in need of guidance) in a morality relevant situation. Person whose own heart and mind are so pure that they are actually naive, gullible, and very vulnerable. A good child. Virtues needed for child-rearing or for handling inexperienced people who need guidance (e.g. patience, loving kindness, consistency etc.). Lily-Fox The virtue of proper self-care. To defend one's virtue / one's moral views. To keep oneself clean/pure. Someone whose sense of self is very closely bound to their virtue. Someone with Self-centred but honest intentions. To be upfront about one's intentions to look after oneself first. To be distrustful of someone's seemingly good intentions. To be distrustful of someone's (seeming) virtuousness, or of specific moral values. To adapt one's moral opinions and conduct to changed conditions. Lily-Bear A parent/teacher/boss with high moral standards; or who puts a lot of moral pressure on you; who wants you to be a good/better person. Someone extremely moralistic and obtrusively self-righteous. Someone who tells you what's right; moral guide, moral compass. Virtuousness in general or specific virtues dominate life - maybe to much so. Very strong moral sense. To protect one's moral purity. To keep things clean (also in a metaphorical sense!). Lily-Stars Virtuous hopes and wishes; to restrict one's wishes to that which one perceives as pure (and proper). To have very modest hopes and dreams. To trust (maybe too faithfully?) in someone's good intentions. (New Year's) resolutions; to want to become a better person. To believe that becoming a better person is the ultimate purpose of life. To find a lot of meaning and purpose in doing virtuous things. Lily-Stork One's moral values are transforming. The transformative power of acting virtuously. Treating another person well can transform them. The longing for peace (from inner disturbances); the longing to be innocent/pure again. To move on from an earlier state of life to a life more focused on virtuousness or peace. The virtue of accepting things one can't change. Someone is austere by nature. It's inevitable that we'll have to practice abstinence at some point if we don't want to lose ourselves. The moral nature of things. Recurring moral issues. Lily-Dog Virtues relevant to friendship, especially loyalty. A friend who is: loyal, impartial, virtuous, has good intentions, is stuck up, too disciplined. To be true to one's moral ideals. To stand by what one thinks is right. Utter devotion. To ask for moral guidance. To ask if it's okay to do something. Someone whose moral ideas are easily influenced. Lily-Tower Moral authority. To deny oneself many things; to live the life of a recluse, untouched by the troubles of the world. To keep anything or anyone away which/who might "stain" one's purity, or which might evoke passion. Moral boundaries. Virtues like respect(ing other people's boundaries), dignity, (self)discipline, incorruptible leadership. Pride in one's virtue. An "I'm a better person than X" attitude. Institutions/organisations which deal with morally relevant issues (e.g. churches - because of their focus on their own brand of virtue; the legal system - because it is supposed to bring justice; charities etc.) Lily-Garden To present as virtuous/righteous/pure etc. (although maybe one isn't, at least not as much). If one is honest and righteous there's nothing to hide - everything can be made public. Whistle-blowing. Community with strong moral values. Virtues upheld by a whole culture or a network. Virtues relevant to networking in particular / society as a whole. Social justice issues. Righteous politician. Honest representation; honest add campaign. To advertise one's virtues. To "clean up" society. Lily-Mountain Difficult moral considerations. An obstacle to virtue. To challenge someone's ideas of morality or specific moral values. To have difficulties being virtuous or with specific virtues. One's stubborn, cold virtuousness is an obstacle (e.g. to enjoying oneself). Virtuousness which can't be shaken; purity so solid it can't be soiled. The elephant in the room is a moral issue. Problematic austereness or self-chastising. The virtue of discretion; to keep silent about something for moral reasons - maybe even at personal costs. It's challenging to do the right thing. Problematic moral views or something which is morally problematic. Lily-Crossroad Moral relativism. A morally relevant choice. Wise choice. To choose virtue/purity/abstinence/peace etc. (possibly over something else). To go one's own moral way. To act according to moral virtues. Virtues we need in order to make (good) choices, e.g. wisdom, diligence, resolve. Virtues to do with being able to understand and evaluate different standpoints realistically, e.g. impartiality, reason. The Virtue of tolerance; accepting differences. Lily-Mice Moral corruption in general; bad morals; dwindling virtue. Corrupted virtues, e.g. dishonesty, injustice. Lack of virtue, e.g. lack of discipline, lack of courage etc. Something clean is being sullied. Pollution. One's resolve to stay abstinent wanes; to relapse. Virtue shields one from corruption; meticulous cleanliness (also metaphorically speaking) against dirt. Lily-Heart Emotional dispositions which are considered virtues: loving kindness, compassion, forgiveness, clemency. A very pure heart; no negative feelings or dishonest intentions. Deep but platonic love. To love what is pure. To find peace in a loving relationship. Lily-Ring To stick with what one has promised; honourableness; high degree of reliability. A morally good (pure) link, connection, or relationship. To commit to virtue, abstinence, or peace etc. To commit to something because it's the right thing to do. Virtues relevant when making connections or signing contracts, e.g. good intentions, fairness. Contentment with(in) a relationship. Shared moral values. A group whose members are bound together by a morally relevant purpose (e.g. helping others), or by their moralising. Someone who is very uptight. Lily-Book (Theoretical) knowledge about virtue. An education in morality. Pure, honest, undisguised facts. The virtue of truthfulness; to share knowledge/speak the truth when it is the right thing to do. To be at peace with the truth. A virtuous teacher. A role-model for virtuousness. To "come clean" about something. A very, very non-physical, non-sensual, (possibly too) intellectual approach. Lily-Letter Virtues important for communication: e.g. the willingness to listen, honesty. An honest conversation. Communication with the intent of making things better (for everyone concerned). Peace talks. To communicate peacefully, without aggression, no hateful remarks. Non-violent communication. To communicate one's honest, true intention. "Clean" communication - no false pretences or manipulation in one's communication. Lily-Man (a) Man who is: virtuous (in general, or specifically e.g. prudent, just, frugal, etc.), holier-than-thou, moralistic, self-righteous, pure, clean, well-intended, honest and upfront, righteous, innocent, blameless, wise, unassuming, impartial, humble, meek, peaceful (undisturbed, unagitated), content (modest), restrained, moderate, modest, sober, abstinent, chaste, austere, self-chastising, uptight, frigid. Goody-two-shoes. Moraliser. Man who is celibate - possibly a monk. Virgin. To do the morally right thing regarding a man. To make peace with a man. Man makes peace with something or someone. Lily-Woman (a) Woman who is: virtuous (in general, or specifically e.g. prudent, just, frugal, etc.), holier-than-thou, moralistic, self-righteous, pure, clean, well-intended, honest and upfront, righteous, innocent, blameless, wise, unassuming, impartial, humble, meek, peaceful (undisturbed, unagitated), content (modest), restrained, moderate, modest, sober, abstinent, chaste, austere, self-chastising, uptight, frigid. Goody-two-shoes. Moraliser. Woman who is celibate - possibly a nun. Virgin. To do the morally right thing regarding a woman. To make peace with a woman. Woman makes peace with something or someone. Lily-Man (b) Man who is: virtuous (in general, or specifically e.g. prudent, just, frugal, etc.), holier-than-thou, moralistic, self-righteous, pure, clean, well-intended, honest and upfront, righteous, innocent, blameless, wise, unassuming, impartial, humble, meek, peaceful (undisturbed, unagitated), content (modest), restrained, moderate, modest, sober, abstinent, chaste, austere, self-chastising, uptight, frigid. Goody-two-shoes. Moraliser. Man who is celibate - possibly a monk. Virgin. To do the morally right thing regarding a man. To make peace with a man. Man makes peace with something or someone. Lily-Woman (b) Woman who is: virtuous (in general, or specifically e.g. prudent, just, frugal, etc.), holier-than-thou, moralistic, self-righteous, pure, clean, well-intended, honest and upfront, righteous, innocent, blameless, wise, unassuming, impartial, humble, meek, peaceful (undisturbed, unagitated), content (modest), restrained, moderate, modest, sober, abstinent, chaste, austere, self-chastising, uptight, frigid. Goody-two-shoes. Moraliser. Woman who is celibate - possibly a nun. Virgin. To do the morally right thing regarding a woman. To make peace with a woman. Woman makes peace with something or someone. (Virtuous)Lily-(Sensual)Lily This combination is only possible if you use both versions of the Lily for your readings! Righteousness in one's sexual relationships; temperate or disciplined handling of sensual pleasures. A lover with good intentions. Conflict between wanting to enjoy sensual pleasures and the idea that this would not be virtuous. A frugal approach to food/drink. A very mature and wise person. (Virtuous)Lily-(Virtuous)Lily*) Extremely virtuous; hyper-clean; super-peaceful. Someone so flawless a person it is annoying. A true moraliser. Virtue is of the highest importance now. It would be the morally correct thing now to make moral considerations top priority. To be at peace with a frugal lifestyle; to be at peace with one's abstinence/celibacy. To act virtuously not just on the outside but motivated by a virtuous disposition and good intentions. Virtuousness arises from wisdom. Lily-Sun The virtue of shared joy because of a lack of envy. To find great joy in virtuous acts. To find true happiness in a frugal lifestyle. To do good things in order to become more popular. Superficial virtuousness. Peaceful ("quiet") happiness. Awareness of moral relevance. A peaceful ("quiet", undisturbed) day. The profound happiness which comes with wisdom. To spend one day fasting/forgoing something. Lily-Moon Profound virtuousness. To deal with one's deepest needs and fears in a wise way. Or: To try and counter one's deeper needs and fears with self-discipline and renunciation instead of allowing them to be sated/eased. Virtue/purity is very important now. Even if you don't believe it of yourself, deep down you're a good person! A peaceful night, undisturbed sleep. Good sleep hygiene. Virtues which are relevant when dealing with strong emotions: e.g. compassion or equanimity. Lily-Key Moral revelation; a moral aha-moment. To let virtuousness into one's life. The virtue of acceptance, of "letting in" (helping) strangers in need. The solution lies in virtuous behaviour. Virtues open doors. To be wise about what you allow. Someone with a very pure and open heart. Someone is so pure and well-meaning themselves that they let everything/everyone in (because of a lack of understanding of the evils of the world). Moral behaviour as a means to an end.   Lily-Fish Business ethics. Honest business dealings. To give money for a good cause. To highly value virtuousness. Moral ways of dealing with money. Fair trade and fair trade products. To be extremely frugal, maybe in order to appear virtuous. Too virtuous (too pure, too honest, too prudent, too disciplined etc.) To give/lend to those who need. To give/pay back what was borrowed. To find peace in letting go of money/things; to feel peaceful because one doesn't need more. Lily-Anchor Virtues which have to do with steadfastness: consistency, decidedness, dedication etc. To firmly stick with what you know is right. To focus on certain virtues. To lead a life centred around virtuousness. To be constrained by what one thinks is "proper". To hold on to (find safety in) acting virtuously. To keep someone grounded who desperately needs it. To well-meaningly hold on to something - but maybe it's not helpful. To restrict someone else because of one's own moral considerations. To get detention/grounded/imprisoned for misbehaviour. Compulsion to wash. Lily-Cross Virtues which are relevant to (your) religion, e.g. the Christian virtues faith, love, hope, or the Buddhist "sublime attitudes" compassion, shared joy, equanimity, loving kindness. Also: piety! To act virtuously out of religious fear. Virtuousness as a burden. To think that suffering is a virtue. The virtue of bearing suffering with dignity. To do the right thing even when it's difficult, even when it's burdensome. Selfless (altruistic) service. To make peace with pain/suffering.

[esquitor]

millennium twins + dgm meta, bc i can

mnNGHGH OKAY...... most of this is pared down from what i use (would use, will use at some point) for red carpet welcome neahfic, and is largely neah-focused. at some point this is also just au conjecture. i don’t make meta or hc, i create aus based on my theories and it becomes au canon.

here goes.

(i don’t venture into the dgm tag so if this has all been said before..... oops. i just wanna post it.)

i refer to the millennium twins and their noahs rather separately? ‘mana’, ‘neah’ are self explanatory. ‘adam’ is the noah memory, while ‘the earl’ is the combined mana+adam or neah+adam.

GENERAL

the earl's main ability (besides like giant magic blasts and smacking people with a sword) is manipulation of the soul, its energy, and the helix of life. the ark was first said to have been used to populate the world with new humans after the great flood.

creation of 'humans' likened to the creation of 'akuma'; both are simple a soul in a flesh body, and once the soul is destroyed, the body is also destroyed.

that the earl, whether of his own volition or bc of katerina, split himself consciously instead of just ‘dying’.

my pet theory is that wanted to stop doing whatever it is he was doing / wanted to try coexisting with humans. he looked very tired and sat next to that tree in that wheatfield okay?

attempted to split into two so that the burden of the memory of 'adam' would not be so bad. i think my notes said ‘share the madness’ but tbh it’s probably more along the lines of ‘have another quasi-earl to spend time with inbetween the other noahs reincarnating’.

split himself unevenly across mana and neah, resulting in a conflict between the two pieces of 'memories' that they each carry.

each of them is considered a ‘separate person’, but as parts of a whole. ‘a separate part of one person’

MANA

more kindhearted of the two of them. more human?

likely adopted more of the earl’s desire to coexist with humans, or whatever his intention was for the split.

unfortunately he also received more of the ‘memories of adam’ than neah did, and is more driven by the earlface ‘adam’ to recombine to carry out their task.

judging by the flashbacks, his feelings on this matter were regret and guilt for doing it.

NEAH

in neahfic at least, the pet theory is that he receives only the ‘hatred’ of noah, the feeling of disgust towards humanity, without much (if any) of the memories that make a noah... a noah.

meaning no intrinsic feeling of brotherhood or family, no cemented loyalty to the earl. he is the earl. or he is part of the earl. he is his own master.

there is no one he loves more than himself, and the other half of him

neah does not consider himself 'one of the noahs’ any more than the earl does. he is half of the one who should lead them, but he is not one of them. he is not ‘the 14th noah’, he is ‘their destruction’

c205 road says "don't stop, keep walking. those are the last words neah left mana. neah fought for mana. but it's a secret, okay?"

which is why he's surprised when 'the earl' says 'mana is gone' because that would essentially give neah no reason left to kill 'adam', to absorb the memory of ‘adam’ and become ‘the earl’

hc that neah intended to do the killing / devouring at first but was unable to for whatever reason

that by killing and and devouring 'mana', neah spares mana of having to do the same to him, hence the 'i'll kill you and become the earl’ -> ‘i’ll do it so that you don't have to do it'

possibly that scene with him standing over road and someone in the bed? it’s possibly mana. looks like it could be katerina but road has no reason to hold her like that?

WIBBLY WOBBLY

with 'the earl's ability to manipulate soul and helix of life, he creates?? another himself?? a split. into whom he puts 'mana' and lets loose on the world.

'the earl' has already been split once into mana and neah, nothing says he can't just do it again, he just has no reason to?

'mana's portion of soul becomes an akuma, while the rest of 'the earl' walks around in a fatsuit. 'the earl' right now is quite possibly just 'adam' and maybe remainders of mana's soulmemory? hence why he has no memory of being twins with neah.

ch225 spoilery bit way down below.

this is not really a headcanon but i’m viscerally relating the 225 line of neah’s ‘i could laugh and spit up the food i ate’ with the fact that he probably has the same abilities as the earl, soul/body devouring

but being that he isn’t ‘completely’ the earl, he doesn’t really destroy them completely when he killed/devoured their souls, only damaged them to the point that they couldn’t remember a thing about him

or they’ve willfully repressed it, since the idea that ‘the other half of the earl killed them dead’ would be a pretty bad memory?

what’s up with joyd and neah oohh.

just the amount of CASUAL DEFIANCE neah has whenever he talks to any of the noahs, even the earl, makes me think oodles of things that i can’t put into words properly. the level of casual, dismissive, blunt familiarity is like a punchline to a joke only he knows

it wouldn’t have been out of place for him to keep quiet the fact that he and mana are actually both the earl, just for the irony of the joke that is the earl (or half of the earl) killing his own apostles

does anyone else ever think about how, since they are the earl, if they ever awakened as noahs, there would’ve been no one to greet them? unless all noahs have intrinsic noah-awakening senses?

the earl is supposed to greet them, or at least he greeted skinn boric.

no one told these two children why they were bleeding from their foreheads or having 7000 years of memories downloaded into their heads (for mana at least? in this theory neah doesn’t get that).

please. i think about this a lot.