#but softness and kindness in the midst of difficulty DOES have to be a choice

[leslie057]

the choice to be hospitable, sacrificial, and encouraging to others when you yourself feel tired, upset, and stressed is the BEST choice you can make in the history of choices ever by the way

[tanjirosjuliet]

Lipstick

Pairings - tanjiro x gender neutral reader

Genre - pure fluff.

Warnings - none!

Words - 1.6k+

Reading time - 5 minutes if you're average, 12 minutes if you're slow💀

As night falls, you and Tanjiro find yourselves in the comfort and safety of your shared bedroom. The room is adorned with warm, earthy tones, with a small window allowing the moonlight to softly illuminate the space. The floor is covered with soft, woven mats, and a low table holds a small lantern, casting a gentle glow around the room.

Tanjiro, wearing his customary Demon Slayer uniform, sits on one of the mats, his back against the wall as he gazes at you with a caring smile. He reaches out his hand, inviting you to sit beside him. "Come, y/n, let's take a moment to rest and gather our thoughts after such a long day."

You join him, settling yourself comfortably beside him. The air inside the room feels calm and peaceful, providing a much-needed respite from the heaviness of the day's events. Tanjiro's presence brings a sense of reassurance, offering support and stability in the face of adversity.

He gently wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a warm embrace. "I'm glad we could find a moment of peace amidst everything that's happened," he murmurs softly, his breath warm against your ear. "Remember to take care of yourself as well, y/n. It's easy to become overwhelmed when we witness such cruelty and suffering. But we must also remember to find strength in our moments of rest."

Tanjiro's comforting words fill the room, creating a soothing atmosphere that envelopes you both. His touch and his presence radiate a sense of protection, reminding you that you're not alone in the midst of these difficulties.

"We'll face the challenges that lie ahead together, y/n," he continues, his voice steady and reassuring. "We'll continue to support each other and never lose sight of the goal that led us here—to bring justice and protect those who cannot protect themselves."

With those words, a sense of determination and resilience fills the air, intertwining with the tranquility of the room. It's a reminder that even in the face of darkness, there is always a flicker of hope to guide the way.

As you and Tanjiro settle down for the night, the weight of the day gradually lifts. You find solace in each other's presence, knowing that you have a companion who will walk beside you on this challenging journey.

You get up and start applying your new red lipstick that Tanjiro bought you the exact day.

Tanjiro blinks in confusion, watching you apply lipstick while preparing for sleep. His eyebrows knit together in a mild perplexity, and he speaks up with a gentle tone. "Uh, y/n, if you don't mind me asking, why are you applying lipstick before going to sleep? Is there a specific reason?"

You stay silent, smiling and saying nothing. Letting Tanjiros curiosity take the best of him.

Curiosity laces his voice, his kind and honest nature shining through. Although he is unsure of the purpose, he respects and values your choices and wishes to understand better. Tanjiro's concern for your well-being and willingness to listen are evident as he patiently waits for your response.

Nezuko, who is resting nearby, looks up from her slumber, tilting her head curiously at the sight. She seems equally puzzled by your nighttime activity.

Awaiting your explanation, Tanjiro's eyes remain fixed on you, his expression a mixture of curiosity and genuine care. He's ready to listen and offer his support, as he always does.

You walk towards the bed where Tanjiro is laying down, still staring at you with visible curiosity.

You lean down and cup Tanjiro's pretty face and then begin to pepper his face with millions of kisses, leaving the trail of your red lipstick all over his face.

Tanjiro's eyes widen in surprise as you shower him with kisses, leaving traces of your lipstick on his face and neck. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, his cheeks turning a warm shade of pink. He tries to stifle his laughter, finding your playful affection endearing.

Giggling, he gently cups your face with his hands, returning your affection with a few gentle kisses of his own. His lips leave a trail of warmth against your skin, creating a playful exchange between the two of you.

Nezuko watches with curiosity from her spot, her eyes widening as she observes the affectionate display. Though she cannot express herself verbally, her small smile reflects her happiness for the bond she sees between you and Tanjiro.

Tanjiro's eyes meet yours, filled with warmth and affection, as he whispers, "You always find a way to make me smile, y/n. Even in the most unexpected moments." He leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for brightening up my day."

His gratitude and appreciation radiate through his words, enveloping the room with a sense of joy and love. In that moment, you both find solace in each other's presence, cherishing the simple moments that strengthen your bond.

As you continue to exchange affectionate gestures, laughter and love fill the air, creating a cherished memory that will stay with you both as you drift off to sleep, embraced by the warmth of each other's love.

As the morning sun gently filters through the room, you and Tanjiro begin to stir from your slumber. However, your peaceful awakening is abruptly interrupted by the high-pitched screams of Zenitsu. His voice rings throughout the house, carrying a mix of excitement and astonishment.

Tanjiro, still groggy from sleep, blinks his eyes open, his mind catching up with the commotion around him. He quickly realizes the reason for Zenitsu's outburst as he touches his face and feels the lingering traces of lipstick marks still adorning his skin.

With a faint blush on his cheeks, Tanjiro glances at you, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He gently nudges you, silently indicating the situation unfolding around you.

Nezuko, who has also woken up, sits up beside you and lets out a small giggle, covering her mouth with her hands. She seems to find the whole scenario amusing.

Amidst Zenitsu's continued exclamations about how lucky Tanjiro is to have someone as lovely as you, Tanjiro tries to suppress his laughter. He reaches for a nearby cloth and begins to wipe the lipstick marks from his face, his cheeks still tinted pink.

"Zenitsu," Tanjiro finally interjects, unable to contain his amusement any longer, "It's not what you think. Y/n was just... expressing their affection. But thank you for the compliments." He grins warmly, clearly entertained by the situation.

Zenitsu's expression shifts from awe to disappointment as he processes Tanjiro's explanation. He pouts for a moment before muttering something about love being unfair and turns to leave, muttering to himself.

"So I was wrong ugh" Zenitsu muttered under his breath.

With the commotion settling down, Tanjiro turns back to you, his smile still lingering. He leans in closer, his voice soft and filled with affection. "I didn't mind the lipstick marks, y/n. It was actually quite sweet. Thank you for showing me your affection in such a unique way."

His gratitude and warmth shine in his eyes as he gazes at you, his hand gently reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. In this lighthearted moment, you both share a silent understanding and a strengthened connection, cherishing the quirks that make your relationship special.

The morning continues, filled with laughter and camaraderie, as you and Tanjiro embark on another day together, ready to face any challenges that may come your way.

Zenitsu's eyes wander over Tanjiros and y/n's neck as he points out the love bites on both Tanjiro's and your neck

"Uhm...did you do something last night?~" Zenitsu tries to tease you and Tanjiro.

A sudden wave of embarrassment washes over both of you. The realization of the visible mark on your skin sends your faces turning crimson, matching the intensity of your blush.

Tanjiro stammers for a moment, searching for words to respond but only managing to utter a faint "Oh." He glances at you, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and bashfulness.

Nezuko, who had been observing the situation with curiosity, suddenly covers her mouth, trying to stifle a giggle. She looks between the two of you with amusement, realizing the innocence of the situation. But she remains quiet, careful not to intrude further.

Tanjiro clears his throat, his voice coming out slightly shaky. "Uh, y/n, I... um, I didn't realize... But, well, it's okay, I suppose. These things happen, right?" He tries to play it cool despite the deep shade of red on his face.

You nod, feeling your heart race with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "Yeah, you're right, Tanjiro. These things do happen. We can just... uh, explain it somehow." Your voice trails off, as you too find it challenging to regain composure.

Zenitsu, oblivious to the tension, continues to express his disbelief and admiration, unaware of the embarrassment he's causing. He swoons dramatically, celebrating the fact that love is in the air for the both of you.

As the initial shock wears off, you and Tanjiro exchange a glance, your eyes conveying a silent agreement. You both decide to embrace the love bite as a symbol of your affection, a secret between just the two of you.

Gathering your courage, you reach for Tanjiro's hand, intertwining your fingers with his, silently assuring each other that you will navigate through this embarrassment together.

With a newfound strength, you face Zenitsu, mustering a smile and offering him a grateful nod. While still blushing, you express your gratitude for his support, albeit veiled in embarrassment. Zenitsu, ever the dramatic one, seems satisfied with your response and leaves with a satisfied smile.

As the day continues, you and Tanjiro share stolen glances, the love bite serving as a reminder of the deep connection between you. Although embarrassment remains, a sense of appreciation and tenderness blossoms amidst the blushes and shy smiles.

Together, you navigate through the day, holding each other's hands and finding comfort in the strength of your bond. The love bite becomes a treasured secret, a mark of the love and affection that sets your relationship apart.

And so, with newfound courage and an unspoken promise, you face the world hand in hand, ready to embrace both the joys and challenges that lie ahead, secure in the knowledge that your love for each other will guide you through.

MASTERLIST

[lovestrucked-again]

Days Of Eminence | L. Jeno

Summary: There’s only a small amount of cities that still exist, the city of Eminence being the next most likely to perish. It’s not the city that dies, but the people - guided by an Angel. He says Y/N is his saviour, the one who can guide him to Heaven, but how can she when she’s the one meant to kill him.  Genre: angst, smut, 

Pairing: angel! Jeno x agent! female reader (ft Jaemin) Word count: 5k

Warning: corruption of Angelic themes, smut, death

a/n: Something very different as part of the summer collaboration by @neo-cult-ure​. My chosen summer-titled song is “Summer” by Keshi. Thank you for hosting this!! <3  

“3 months is all we’ve got.” _____

They asked you to write everything you could remember. A hard thing since there’s only so much sorrow in the telling. Your mind shies away from it, looping between the past and present in time.

Jaemin squeezed your arm, his face stern. “Stay only long enough to find out what goes on, Y/N. 3 months is all we’ve got.”

You nodded, believing it would be that easy; truly imagining that you were prepared for what was coming.

***

First Month Eminence was cool and muted as the mountain city of summer. As in summer, most constructions of the city covered in a shadowed glow, soft stone in the dark; seemingly clean, bare, bonelike whiteness. You knew the ceremonies conducted by the Angel occurred during sunset, hence your entry at that time. Walking through the main street you started to see how the people of this place looked ill and frail. Many bore savage burn scars, though they looked content.

“We know there is a place called the Chantry where the people meet to hear the Angel speak every day. I will guide you there.”

Passing from the pink stained dusty street and into the shadowy interior of the Chantry, you could hear the murmurs of the hundreds of voices that echoed. People were pressed in close and stood staring up at a raised stage. A plain wooden seat set atop the stage and sitting on it, was the Angel.

Dressed in a white shirt, barefoot; his feet not quite touching the floor, fingers clasped loosely on his lap, like a child sitting at his lessons. Though he wore no crown, his hair was white and rose up floating about his head, catching the sunlight in a nimbus.

Behind him, the shocking contrast. The outermost wall of the city lay open and presented a black continuous land. Eminence was the edge of the frontier beyond which no one could walk and live for long.

Jaemin had told you the Angel was young, but the light glowing behind him made it impossible to tell. You felt uneasy at the face of shadows crowned by light, surround darkness. You told yourself, that it was a deliberate effect, that the angel had aimed to make himself binding awe and mystery.

Then the angel shifted and light fell onto his features.

You gasped, but the sound drifted and lost its way into the cries of people pressed around you. Your breath was kicked out of you; the Angel was beautiful.

Even as you recall these memories, your seeking for another word, but are defeated, for there is no word made that can describe the solemn beauty of the Angel’s features. You were stunned.

Surely the others tasked with your mission would have mentioned this. And if so, why didn't they tell you? Then a second later you realise that the appearance of the Angel would not be thought important to adult agents searching for power and corruption. They would not see such incandescent beauty as power, for anyone seeing truly must know no corruption had ever touched that face. Here was goodness personified. Here was an Angel.

It made sense now, why they had chosen to send you instead. An adult would see a child in the Angel’s face and search for a manipulator. Indeed, you had been warned to search for the boy’s controlled. But you only saw beauty, so pure it could inflame those who looked upon it with a kind of madness of adoration; and in its midst, eyes with the sad wisdom of emotion.

You missed quite a lot of what he was saying that day due to your shock at his appearance, but you visited the Chantry every day from then on, with the rest of the citizens, listening to him say the same words over and over again. Before long, you knew them well enough to chant with him, as the rest did.

“There was a sickening of the spirit of heaven.” He began without preamble, voice sweet and low pitched, shaped to the story, so that his words became a sort of wind that breathed itself into you.

“Therefore, heaven separated this sickening spirit, lest it infect the rest, imprisoning it in a cage of flesh. Sent it upon the earth, the flesh which calls itself human-kind, multiplied, as is its nature. Far from what heaven had hoped, the spirit became further corrupted, wholly absorbed by its physical prison.”

His voice shaded into an implacable subtone. “In grace and infinite mercy, heaven sought to undo this binding of flesh to spirit. I am that spirit and that flesh sent to rid Plethora – to end the overmuch of flesh and spirit that clings to it and worships it.”

“These are the days of Plethora; the days of Eminence which you may prepare for the end of flesh. That the spirit in you will perish with the flesh in which you chose not to rise above. This is the judgement of heaven. I am the Angel, offering to those who seek it, a high path offering the choice to loosen your spirit from flesh so that when Plethora comes, it may fly.”

He asked who aspired to take the High path and a lot of people lifted their arms, streamed through doors to left and right at the front of the Chantry. After a few visits, you had learned those who were more sick and ailing and scared, stood right. The others gathered on the left.

You watched them go curiously, thinking to yourself that this High Path and the whole story of being an Angel, was a mixed belief of old religions. Your superiors had predicted it.

“The angel is using tried and true beliefs, but the it doesn't explain how he has amassed his power. Nor does it explain the weapons he has his followers collect. If it was only weapons, we could disarm them and let them be, but there is more to it than that and this Angel is the centre. That is where you come in, it seems the Angel is searching for someone to restore his condition.”

They meant this literally. The Angel lived amongst people who adored him, who devoted their entire life towards him, yet, he could not find someone to share his warmth and in turn grew colder each day. You were told he would play with the Children of Eminence. You learned how easy it was to get to him the first day you woke in the city, attendants of his asking who would like to visit the Angel. Ten were selected. It was a simple process, proving no difficulty, but that wasn't your goal. Initially you had planned to learn a little more about the High Path, advocated by the Angel.

You learnt that the meaning behind separating the spirit from flesh was literally that; people letting themselves be physically tortured. You learnt it the hard way, choosing to follow those people who ushered you to the left door in the Chantry. You knew there was a physical torture of some sort behind the door, having seen those who went in healthy come out battered and thin and pale, but still alive.

They are a nightmare to remember. Only glimpses can still be recalled through the erased memories. They were not able to wipe out everything, and the strongest details of pain remained; where you were swimming and swimming desperately in a vast of water, pushed by people prodding sticks to keep you from reaching the surface, until you could swim no more. You would sink, screaming for the end to come, breathing in the thickness of liquid. There would be agony, then unconsciousness. Then you would be revived and be tortured to undergo the same thing all over again.

Some died in this first process of the High Path, and the Angel praised them, claiming heaven had accepted their spirit before Plethora had fallen. Many went mad, the pain of drowning and reviving repetitively unable to keep the sane. You were on the verge of falling victim to the second stage; thinking it could not be any worse, when you were selected to visit the Angel.

Second Month Unable to refuse, you went with caution and a little excited flock of children, expecting rituals and brainwashing, or maybe some sort of sexual interference disguised as play, but all the Angel did was play with them. The children squealed and giggled, running in circles as he tickled them, crawled after them, growling and pretending to gobble them up. He laughed and told them stories of heaven, singing melodies and songs he had learnt. You hovered at the back, wondering how one who so obviously adored children could allow them to be tortured and guide them to their deaths.

As if he felt the intensity of your scrutiny, the Angel looked over the children’s heads, towards you. And in that moment, you learnt the truth behind love at first sight: a mingling of souls that surpass all sense, all words, all life. The first single look you exchanged left you weakened in a voracious longing. But the most shattering thing, was the awareness the Angel experienced the same amount of recognition and emotion.

You watched his lips part in the shape to form a word, perhaps a curse or prayer, then he beckoned you. The children parted, letting you pass as you moved to him as quickly as you could, unable to contain the string that seemed to be tugging from his direction.

“Welcome, my dearest love,” he whispered, taking your hand, “I was waiting for you.”

You were completely bewildered. You tried to open your mouth but nothing came out; the phrases you had prepared in order to fit in, could not form. Dearest love.

“I am Y/N.”

He smiled and it seemed to you there was something new in his face. “Yes.” He released one of your hands and reached out to stroke a finger along your cheek. “I am Jeno, and as an Angel, I am beyond saving. Yet how else shall my spirit transcend flesh at the end, except by its grace? Thus heaven swore that I would find Plethora in the face and flesh of a girl called Y/N. My name was given to me – Jeno – as I was told I would know its truest meaning only when I saw you, and with that pain that it would bring, my soul can be released.”

You swallowed hard, unable to process the stream of words amongst your panicking madness of gibberish about love and death. “I…I don't understand. Did you know I would come?”

“I knew you would come to stand before me today. I left you to freely wander through the city of Eminence where other agents before you were discarded of at once.”

“I…other agents?” you questioned, feeling your spine turn cold.

He sighed. “You are not the first to be sent from your city in fear of attack and conversion to Angel worshipping. The man who led you here still stands outside these walls, where even now, waits for you outside Eminence, his fear of losing you gnawing at him.”

You blinked, remembering the look on Jaemin’s face as he placed the gun in your hand.

“You have undergone the start to the High Path,” Jeno goes on. “You have seen all the city in your wanderings. You asked questions and received true answers. You know my name, my face, my voice. I know that you have yet to be touched by the Highest Path – but we shall find that path in one another, for only by love can the soul find its highest pain.”

You gave up your act of confusion. You were trained to accept and prepare for the inevitable death when the time would come. The fear of death mingled with his words of terrifying madness claimed of love. You let your emotions fuse into a shield, waiting for it to form a barrier that could not be broken.

“An opportunity will come, in that split second when you can act and alter the course of events. Miss it and you die.” Jaemin had warned you, showing you how to remain calm and watchful.

“What are you going to do with me?” you asked the Angel.

“First, I will show you what you have not been allowed to find,” he said, and with that, he led you out of the enclosed garden. The children trailed behind in a train as he brought you through the city to the silos where the weapons were kept. Ancient missiles which, when activated, would rain acid chemicals to poison the earth and sear the flesh.

“H-How did you find them?” you asked, frozen at the sight. There was enough to destroy all cities – Plethora.

“Heaven guided me,” Jeno said, his fingers lightly caressing your arm.

“Why?” you hesitated, but you knew. Had you not heard the words a dozen times? Watched him form the sentences from his lips? As if reading your mind, he said them once again.

“These are the Plethora days - the end days - in which the spirit will be guided to abandon the flesh in judgement of heaven.” He touched the missile gently as if it was an animal that may run. “In a sense, I am also an agent, sent from Heaven. Just as your Jaemin had given you that gun to summon aid, I have you. My one chance for redemption.”

He smiled and led you back to the garden. Strange though it seemed, the two of you sat and he held you, stroked your hair and whispered words of love into your ears. He went for a while to deliver his morning speech, but he returned immediately after. You didn’t bother to run or hide, because he was an Angel and you knew you were captured by love.

“Come with me,” he murmured, grasping your hand in his as he guided you down an empty street. The sun was setting now, glowing from behind your figures and casting a shadow over you.

Jeno led you to a small but neatly structured building. His place was far from your imagination. For some unknown reason, you had pictured a place full of light of both natural and artificial. A room full of white, perhaps a few paintings of what he claimed was heaven. So to come into a small building shrouded with colours of grey and black surprised you. He left the curtains drawn during the day, allowing no light to shine through and liven his home.

“Is this where you live?” you asked quietly, swaying the curtains slightly as you peeked through to see outside.

“Yes,” he replied, “Do you like it?”

It bought a strange comfort knowing that his place was different from what you expected, a strange sense of relief. The Angel was a being himself, not controlled, not programmed, but with his own thoughts, likes and dislikes.

“I do, it’s nice.” It wasn't something that could be explained; the thought process that ran through your mind when it occurred. You bought your hand to his arm, sliding it down to hold his hand. He turned to look at you, startled at your touch.

You squeezed his hand softly, feeling his fingers intertwine with yours. He doesn't seem to realise what his doing, focused only on your eyes, caught in them yet again, out of his depth.  

Jeno blinked; suddenly he knew. He leaned in towards you, just a little. And you watched as his soft dark eyes close, bringing his lips in to touch yours. He leaned in further, sweeping your lips with his tongue and he felt his heart leap when you opened for him.

His hand cupped your chin and you let your face be guided. That too was right, as was the sudden tautness in your nipples. And his long fingers leaving your face, softly sweeping over your shoulder to enfold your breast - that was right, too, as it should be. And so was Jeno’s emphatic manhood, now thrusting upwards; that too was appropriate, perfect.

His breath caught at the feeling of soft fingers on his knee, tracing their way up his thigh. His hand swept over to your other breast, squeezed tenderly. His uncertainty vanished when you reopened your eyes. The look in them was ageless, assured. He could see yearning in them, too, a need not just for him, but for his approval, his acceptance of you as you. His breath caught again as you hand moved further, as if in confirmation, grasped at his cock. Your tongue met his, teased and played as your fingers rolled his balls between them.

He began to turn towards you, but the you were faster and he found himself pushed onto his back on the couch with you lying half on top of him. Your lips crushed his, your tongue probing deeper into his mouth. His hesitancy gone, he kissed back, his own hunger now open and clear.

Your fingers trailed lightly up and down the length of his manhood before returning to the tip, pulling it gently away from his body. You held it there for a moment, released it, began to roll his balls again. He had never been so hard, so aroused. His eyes closed as he focused on your light, deft touch.

You smiled to yourself, happy at his obvious pleasure.

You in her turn gasped softly as Jeno’s hand squeezed first one breast, then the other, lifting, weighing them, mounding them. His hands drifted, began to roll and pull your long nipples; you sighed at the sweet sensation flooding through your body. It was clear that the Angel, too, knew what pleased a partner. His patient, loving working of your nipples continued even as you shifted, moving to lie on your side, facing him. You shuddered, gave a slight cry as he lightly pinched a swollen nub, leaned down and began to tease it with the tip of his tongue. You felt your labia swell, sensed your dew on them, felt your clitoris ease out from under its hood, hard now, expectant.

Your hand moved from his balls to his cock. You slid a hand over it, up and down, thumbing its swollen head at the top of each stroke, giggled as it twitched in your hand. Squeezing harder, you began to drag the velvety skin back and forth over its iron core, slowly at first, then faster and still faster.

You gave a low moan as his hand moved down your body, caught along your pubic hair, pulled it gently. You could feel the air on your wet sex, moaned again as a long finger traced the length of your entrance.

You moaned again as the finger probed your opening up to the first knuckle, began to turn and twist within you. You could feel an orgasm building within you as his foreplay fanned a fire unfed for far too long.

You sensed that he too was very close.

You gave a strong push, rolling the Angel onto his back, his engorged organ swaying for a moment. With a soft chuckle, you straddled him, reached down and slowly guided yourself down onto his length. You paused for a moment, sitting upright, your eyes closed, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of being filled, happily stretched by Jeno’s manhood.

He layed still, his eyes sweeping back and forth between your eyes and your breasts. His hands rose up over your waist, fell to seize the tops of your hips. He smiled at the sight of your figure beginning to sway and rock on his cock.

Your eyes were closed and there was a happy smile on your face, one of pleasant concentration perhaps. The sun shone through your hair, rays reflecting against the bedsheets. With each roll of your hips, your soft breasts swayed, the ends of your hair drifting across his face and chest.

He slid his hands lightly over your thighs, came to rest on your bum. Your weight was on him and he couldn't move his hips. He found himself longing to pull you down, to crush your lips on his. His hands rose, hesitated.

Instead, he settled them on your waist, squeezed, pulling your body against his. Your skin was warm, soft, with toned, firm flesh underneath. His hands swept up to recapture your breasts, took your swollen nipples between thumb and forefinger, pulled gently, twisted.

You drifted in a wave of sensation as you rolled up and down on his cock. The taut rim of its crown pushing back and forth across your velvet lining fanned your arousal, each millimeter of motion like gasoline on a fire.

For the first time since you arrived, you were allowing yourself to be happy, to enjoy yourself without guilt. You began to give short cries as Jeno’s fingers gripped your nipples more firmly, pulled them and turned them.

You shifted, grabbed his wrists and leaned forward, pinning them to the armrest over his head. You could feel your nipples brush across his chest every time your hips drove torso down.

Jeno, for the first time in his experience, was not controlling anything. It was a strange thing for him -- exciting, but very different. Looking up at you, he could see that you’d caught your lower lip between your teeth. Your eyes were closed as you focused on the happy lust blooming within you.

His hands held against the sheet, he could do little but enjoy the sensation of you working yourself over and along his cock. After a moment, he bent his legs, pushing you further up his body. You opened your eyes, smiled at him briefly before changing your rolling to more of a plunging motion.

Your boobs swayed and swung as you bounced up and down; your soft buttocks slid up and down along his thighs.

He found that he could lean his head forward and almost reach... He pulled his feet in closer, raising his knees, pulling her closer still... and found his mouth could now reach your nipples when you came close enough. You gasped in surprise the first time and, still biting your lip, moaned in appreciation.

Jeno’s cock felt enormous to you. He could feel a fiery pressure building behind his balls.

You dropped all of your weight letting the intrusion into your pussy, letting yourself grind your pelvis against his. You went rigid for a moment, crying out at the explosion of joy, your orgasm possessing you, controlling you.

***

“Will you kill me so easily?” you whispered, unable to fall asleep with the silky sheets tucked around you.

And then you turned in your position, shifting to stare at him carefully in the dark – the only light provided by the natural moonlight shining between the gap of the open slit in the curtain. His expression lost as it seemed reality set back in. And then he wept, and you wept too. He reached out a pulled you into his arms. Surprised at the strength of his arm under your soft flesh. His hands trembled as they rested on your bare arms, and he leaned towards you and put his lips on yours.

“Flesh keeps our spirits apart,” he said, without taking his mouth away from you. “When Plethora comes, we will never be parted, not in all eternity.”

“But we won’t be ourselves in your heaven,” you shivered, the desire for him to kiss you again so powerful it felt like a knife poking at the edges of your heart.

“You’ll see.” he murmured bleakly, and you noticed the shadow of longing, the pain of parting, mirrored in his eyes, “it’ll be okay,” he said. And he kissed you again.

The two of you laid awake all night, he told you his coming to Plethora and the years of his rising to power. He explained to you the deaths of the agents - all self chosen as they challenged the road to the High Path. They had been converted he explained. You knew he was trying to convert you, and that in convincing you to accept death, he was fighting his love. In turn, you sought to win from his duty to heaven. Every minute that passed together seemed to make love seem brighter and more dangerously alluring.

Third Month The next day, or perhaps it was many days later, he showed you the maps that indicated the piles of missiles which had been set under all the cities; under yours. To destroy Plethora wasn’t enough for him. He showed you the room on the perimeter of Plethora, where the explosions and weapons would simultaneously be set off.

“This time, everything will go.”

“You’d kill all of those thousands of people after they survived the madness of world wars?” you asked, standing in the small machine dominated room

“I would free the souls left behind,” he said gently, “free them from fear and death and pain and sorrow,”

“And from love and beauty of the sort that only flesh would know?”

Again there was a flash of pain in his eye, and he stroked your cheek, then pointed to the back of your pants – the gun hidden underneath your clothing. “Why not summon him then? He will come here to save you will he not? He could kill me and save you.”

You thought there was a flare of hope in his eyes.

“Would you let him kill you?” you asked, knowing that there was an answer already known. The thought of Jeno dying bought heavy pains to your heart.

***

“You believed he was an Angel?” Jaemin asks, taking a moment to read through the words you had just written down. His eyes are filled with pain, disbelief and lack the warmth they held moments ago. He does not try to hide it anymore, unable to care if he knows how you feel.

“He was,” you say, “He came to bring Plethora. He fell in love, he trusted me.”

“Y-You loved him?” He turns around, letting himself stare out at the window as he braces himself

“I-I did.” you hesitate, wondering how many forms of pain your heart could go through without breaking for good.

“You killed him,” Jaemin states blankly, “You had to. He would have killed himself, killed you, and all of us. All the children and killed humanity out of love. You killed him so that we would survive.”

The flashes of pain and memory well up and spill out of you. Again you see his face, fused with radiance, for he would have walked the Highest Path of all in the moment of his death, knowing he failed because of his love for you. Again you feel the wind blow past your body, the explosion and flaring heat of flames as they coiled around you. The sound of Eminence dying was the sound of your undeniable regrets.

***

“Could you explain what happened?” The man asks, “I know its written here but…”

He stops talking, not wanting to force you into explaining something so visibly emotionally exhausting but desperate for the information.

“He showed me the control room, and when I had the chance, I went back to destroy it. I rewired it so that it would be blown up. I didnt realise the city would go with it. I thought it’d be only the room.”

“He might have lied when he said the control room was the only centre. The weapons could have been triggered some other way.”

You look at the wall, and when he realises it’s the end of the conversation, he leaves. He doesn’t believe Jeno was an Angel, convinced you had perhaps been manipulated – gone mad. He could not understand than an Angel is truth. Unfortunately you could not tell him any different. People see what they want to see. Jeno had said that.

“It was foreseen that it would come to this moment of balance,” Jeno had said, standing in the doorway of the control room. His eyes were on the weapon you held. Jaemin had handmade it, the handgun that had been carved with your initials, attached with a blooming light. Your hand trembled.

“You love me,” Jeno said.

You nodded weeping, “I do, but I have to stop you. I can’t let you destroy everything.”

“Only flesh, my love. Only the material world would die. I would never hurt you.” He was smiling because he was an Angel. And Angels are love and only know of love. He loved you, but he did not understand the nature of flesh, the need for it to survive - to love. “Come with me.” he said, his face exalted, “It’s not too late, even with all you have done. We can end it together.”

He reached for the lever which would bring destruction to the world before the control room could explode and sever Eminence from the other cities. But before he could, you triggered first. The gun that you had not once ever used finally triggered and a red flower landed on the Angel’s heart. He fell like a snowflake, as the city around you shook. His head landed in your lap and he smiled, lifting his fingers to your face.

“Too late,” he whispered, his hand falling back. “I failed heaven. I failed you, my love. We must part.”

“No,” you cried, but he was gone, flesh and spirit.

***

Survival is a disturbing topic. You were meant to follow him, for the journey of the High Path was started together. Yet you live and suffer. Perhaps the path is longer for you, a punishment for your betrayal.

The meaning behind his name only occurred to you long after your recovery. Jeno was an Angel, a King to his city. He was the strength of life, binding the souls and spirits of the citizens and guiding them to Heaven. And he was also strength in its scariest form – forcing you to put an end to the life of someone you cherished in the short 3 months you had.  

[pass-the-bechdel]

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend season three full review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

100% (thirteen of thirteen).

What is the average percentage per episode of female characters with names and lines?

41.16%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Seven, so just over half. Three of those are 50%+.

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

Zero.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Twenty-four. Thirteen who appeared in more than one episode, five who appeared in at least half the episodes, and two who appeared in every episode.

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Thirty-nine. Eighteen who appeared in more than one episode, seven who appeared in at least half the episodes, and one who appeared in every episode.

Positive Content Status:

Not nearly as good as you might expect or hope. As with previous seasons, the show’s most impressive content is not the feminist stuff at all, and on the feminist front it feels sometimes as if the show spends more time denouncing different aspects of the feminist movement as ‘the wrong kind of feminism’ than it does declaring and upholding the aspects it does approve. I tend to feel that it spends time talking the talk on women’s issues, but doesn’t often get up to walk the walk (average rating of 3).

General Season Quality:

Easily better than the previous two seasons, despite a deflated ending. It takes a much more focused approach to its storytelling in the beginning of the season, in a manner which briskly becomes refreshingly confronting and leads in to a powerful middle. Unfortunately, it never sustains quality for very long, and overall the show still suffers for being too easily distracted. It’s not infuriating, but it can be frustrating.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

Ok, let me explain something about myself first, something I’ve mentioned in other (non-Crazy Ex) posts which have gone live long before this one will, but for anyone who missed it in any of those other places, here it is: I am, right now, pregnant. In fact, I am pregnant with a child conceived non-traditionally with a gay friend of mine, and as such, Darryl’s non-traditional quest for biological parenthood in this season struck a very personal chord (though, unlike Darryl, I used the phone-a-friend option as my first choice, not a fallback. Would recommend, if it’s ever relevant to your life). I bring all of this up because I can categorically declare that there are certain plot threads that you absolutely will NOT have the same reaction to if you don’t have that very personal chord being struck, and even moreso if that chord is relevant to your life right now, rather than being something that you’ve experienced in the past but has since slipped from the forefront of your attention. Thus, when I talked about feeling like the emphasis was in all the wrong places for Darryl’s part of the narrative, and expressed irritation with Heather’s pregnancy and birth? I sure ain’t mad about it for no reason. I am extremely, extremely aware of what those processes are actually like right the heck now.

I’m not going to linger on all the details, but I am particularly annoyed at the writers for dropping the ball on the pregnancy/birth part, specifically because it’s something which is so often badly dramatised in tv and film already, and the writers not only know that, they openly reference it as if they’re somehow doing better. The same way that medical professionals sometimes find it too frustrating to watch hospital dramas because of all their inaccuracies, or someone in law enforcement might cringe their way through all the egregious breaches in procedure in a cop show, there’s always a significant risk that anything depicted in fiction will make you want to tear your hair out over the way the plot warps or disregards reality that is pertinent to your life, either through a lack of proper research or understanding of the subject matter, or a conscious choice to prioritise desired storytelling beats/developments over actual logic and realism. Suffice to say there are a LOT of concessions Crazy Ex-Girlfriend asked me to make to their storytelling with this little subplot, some of which most people who have never been pregnant wouldn’t notice, and yes, some of which I would probably dismiss if I were not in the midst of the reality right now. I’m someone who has been present at actual births before and has been raised with an above-average understanding of what’s involved, so I’m used to gritting my teeth and hoping to just not be too annoyed by the way pregnancy and birth is typically depicted on screen. The fact that I am currently immersed in the reality of preparing to give birth makes me less forgiving of fictional contrivances, yes, but in the case of this show’s approach, it’s also more than that: it’s the fact that this show actively promotes itself as a feminist text. And if you’re gonna do that, and criticise the way other things (”written by men!”) depict labour, but then you also choose not to include any education/empowerment of your pregnant character, rattle off a variety of (uneducated, disempowered) cliches anyway, and then handwave it all with ‘nevermind, she just got an epidural!’ as if that ‘solves’ the difficulties of birth (and post-birth recovery, for that matter), frankly that’s just...a really unimpressive failure of feminist storytelling. Congratulations, you neglected the subject completely, at the same time as actively claiming your intent to do better than all that written-by-men schlock out there! What a tiresome charade this turned out to be.

Setting that aside though (difficult for me, as I am...very preoccupied with it), there was actually a good lot of things to like about this season, even if I do still feel that I ultimately have more criticisms than I do praise. Having Rebecca actually reach crisis point in the form of a suicide attempt, and consequently getting a diagnosis for her mental disorder and finally being able to move forward in learning to live a balanced life with BPD? Frankly, it’s not a move that I anticipated, and if you’d asked me where I thought Rebecca’s mental health plot was heading, I probably would have just shrugged it off as an unfocused thread where the ultimate goal was just ‘figure out how to be happy on your own terms instead of defining happiness through someone else’ (which is solid advice, but generalised advice, not something that would require the show to commit to a genuine mental illness). Acknowledging that Rebecca’s behaviour comes from a more distinct source than just the nebulous idea of being ‘crazy’ is a vitally important development, and it ushered in some of the best storytelling the show has offered thus far, at least when the plot maintained steady focus and made an effort to be responsible and mature in its exploration of the issue. As ever, there were still times when the show used Rebecca’s mental state for comic relief in a manner which made me uncomfortable, and times when I couldn’t interpret the intentions of the narrative - I have come to the conclusion that this show and I are on completely different wavelengths, which makes us a bad match, regardless of any elements which I do appreciate. 

On the subject of things I appreciate, I’m going to discuss the true character highlight of the show, someone I wanted to talk about after last season, not realising that if I held off until this review instead, he was gonna wind up so terribly underused in the meantime that it’s almost weird that he’s still technically part of the main cast at this point: Josh Chan. Josh Chan is...kinda the most believable part of this show, both in the bumbling good-natured balance of the character himself, and in other character’s feelings about him. Being able to buy the idea that someone would give up their whole life as they knew it to chase after this guy is kinda important to selling the concept of the show from the outset, and honestly, Josh Chan is the only time I’ve ever seen a central male love interest for whom the hype seemed to make sense. Is he perfect? Not by a long shot, but that’s fine because ‘perfection’ is as conditional as it is unattainable. The problem with male love interests, often, is that they’re written by heterosexual men who treat the character as some kind of masculine wish-fulfillment, a combination of ‘guy I wish I could be’ and ‘guy I think women should want (me)’. Josh Chan is a great example of a love interest written by women for women: he displays positive masculine-coded traits (protective, physically capable), while rejecting negative, toxic-masculine elements (aggression, possessiveness), and he embraces key ‘feminine’ traits (non-threatening, kind, soft, emotionally expressive, family-oriented), while his flaws are unobtrusive and potentially even endearing (the main one is that he’s quite stupid, which is something a lot of straight women will happily admit to liking (at least in theory), and other traits such as Josh’s childish streak can be a source of joy under some circumstances, as well as being something Josh mostly keeps a hold on so that it doesn’t become a burden to his partners). Also, it would be remiss of me to neglect to mention how refreshing and meaningful it is to have an Asian male love interest. I really enjoy not being bored to death by Josh Chan, and I am annoyed at how little of him we got this season while we wasted time with that generic slice of white bread, Nathaniel. Bring back the Chan plots, season four. Do it for me.

[darktwistydamaged]

✨ Small minds can't comprehend big spirits. To be great, you have to be willing to be mocked, hated, and misunderstood.

✨ "Maybe I'm a pig. Maybe I'm an ass. Maybe I'm a vermin like everybody says but I tell the truth, it's the only thing I've got going for me."

✨ "A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty." - #WinstonChurchill

✨ Don't tell me i'm the prettiest u've seen.Tell me I'm a warrior, tell me I'm stronger than any blows I've taken & that I wear the scars well

✨ A badass crazy, tells the truth. Soft but strong. Knows her worth. Unapologetic & honest. The type of woman u go to war beside not against.

✨ There's fire in her. If loved correctly, she will warm your entire home. If abused she will burn it down.

✨ When someone dies of cancer, we blame the disease. Suicide is a disease, dont blame the victim for losing the fight.

✨ She's a masterpiece of chaotic beauty.

✨ She's like a tornado with pretty eyes & a heartbeat. A stubborn heart, messy mind, reckless soul.

✨ We are masters of unsaid words but slaves of those we let slip out.

✨ She has been through hell, so believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into a fire and smiles.

✨ She's fire and ice, you'll fear the cold and crave the burn.

✨ She wears strength and darkness equally well. The girl has always been half goddess, half hell.

✨ She is art. What the fuck do you expect from her other than, confusion, beauty and god damn soul?

✨ Fierce soul. Brave heart. Strong mind.

✨ Sometimes hell is the person who promised you something heavenly. The devil is good at pretending to be everything you want.

✨ Like death, she was breath taking.

✨ Stop being afraid of being crazy, instead guard yourself from being "too" sane. This is the artists way.

✨ Beauty may be dangerous, but intelligence is lethal!

✨ She is both hell fire and holy water and the flavour you taste is based on how you treat her.

✨ Chaos & beauty intertwined. Whiskey in a tea cup. Angel eyes. Acid mouth. Messy mind. Reckless soul

✨ A hopeless romantic with a twisted mind and high standards.

✨ Make a plan. Set a goal. Work toward it. But every now and then, drink it in. 'Cause this is it. It might all be gone tomorrow #GreysAnatomy

✨ I will not settle for anything less than a soul deep, electrifying connection.

✨ The lips of a sinner, a devilish kiss.

✨ She has that "set the whole fucking world on fire" look in her eyes, kind of bad ass vibe to her.

✨ An acquired taste, not for the faint hearted.

✨ Nothing is ever designed to offend. You choose to get offended.

✨ Every heart is like a phoenix. It may catch aflame and burn to ashes, but it will be reborn, stronger than before.

✨ The world isn't split into good and evil. We've all got light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. #SiriusBlack

✨ Three things that can not remain hidden, the sun, the moon, and the truth. #Buddha

✨ I love you more, the more I love you.

✨ You're down, but you're not out and whatever is going on in your life, you keep fighting. #JenniferLopezTrueLove

✨ In the same way negative experiences can bring you down, having positive people around can help lift you up. #TrueLove

✨ Every ending is also a beginning. We just don't know it at the time. @shemarmoore #CriminalMinds

✨ She's a terribly real thing, in a terribly false world & this is why she is pained so often.

✨ I don't want normal and easy and simple. I want painful, difficult, devastating, life changing, extraordinary love.

✨ She never looked nice, she looked like art & art wasn't supposed to look nice, it was supposed to make you feel something.

✨ The tragedy is not to die, but to be wasted. #HannibalLecter

✨ She got her daddy's tongue & temper. Sometimes her mouth could use a filter. God shook his head the day he built her oh, but I bet he smiled

✨ U bring out the best in me. I don’t mean better manners, or a sense of maturity or whatever else this world expects of me. I mean, u make me want to climb rooftops, run wild, act inappropriately, take risks & pursue my dreams with passion & integrity - U make me feel like living

✨ I am fire. If you want something salty & sweet with no opinion, I’m not the woman for you. I spit flames often!!

✨ You have set on me, but you are not the sun.

✨ Don't let what he wants eclipse what you need. He's very dreamy, but he's not the sun. You are.

✨ Good, better, best. Never let it rest. Until your good is better and your better is best. - Tim Duncan

✨ I want somebody with smart intellect and a heart from hell, kisses so deep like a bottomless well.

✨ Lust is when the mind desires what the heart admires. Love is when the mind admires what the heart desires.

✨ “The world has already been too tough on her, the least she needs is tough love. Be tough when you need to be, but always be soft with her. She has thorns, but she is a flower.”

✨ She slept with wolves without fear, for the wolves knew, a lion was among them.

✨ She that dare not grasp the thorn, should never crave the rose.

✨ Hate me today, hate me tomorrow, hate me for all the things I couldn't do for you. Hate me in ways, ways hard to swallow, hate me so you can finally see whats good for you.

✨ You’re so screwed up that you make me, make sense.

✨ "If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you’re scared that it’s not the right thing. Even if you’re scared that it’ll cause problems." #GreysAnatomy

✨ "Too often, the thing you want the most is the one thing you can't have. Desire leaves us heartbroken." #GreysAnatomy

✨ A queen will always turn pain into power.

✨ "The only voice that matters is the 1 in your head. The one telling you what you probably already knew. The one that’s almost always right.”

✨ Do not hide your face. The moon is covered in craters yet still commands our attention, even in the midst of all those glittering stars. What I mean to say is, you are magnificent, for all your imperfections, simply as you are. - Beau Taplin

✨ Damaged people are dangerous because they know they can survive.

✨ The only way you can be mistreated, is by allowing yourself to be mistreated. #TrueLove Jlo

✨ Deception and perfection are wonderful traits, one will breed love and the other hate.

✨ I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow & the soul.

✨ "Each person we let ourselves care about is just one more loss somewhere down the line.." - Meredith Grey

✨ Why do we always want the ones who don't see us, instead of the ones who do?! #YoureNotYou

✨ Every time I break, I come back stronger than before 💎🔹

✨ Loving someone is just delayed pain, eventually you’re going to lose them, one way or the other. #InsidiousChapter3

✨ “She’s tough. She tries to hide it. She’s difficult. But if you make an effort, she’s worth it. She’s worth the effort.” - #McDreamy #GreysAnatomy

✨ I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of a movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me!! #OliviaPope #Scandal

✨ It’s gonna hurt me to hate you, but loving you is worse. #CardiB 

✨ Don’t focus on what if, focus on what is. - #IrreplaceableYou

✨ “When your heart breaks, you’ve got to fight like hell to make sure you're still alive. Because you are. That pain you feel? That's life. The confusion and fear? That's there to remind you, that somewhere out there is something better, and that something is worth fighting for.”

✨ I survive because the fire inside me burns brighter than the fire around me.

✨ She feels powerfully.

✨Deeper than you’ll ever understand with a heart of endless vision for the unconditional for every aspect of the flawed soul. She’s complicated. She feels everything and nothing; the good and the bad all at once. All the time!!

✨ "And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long." — Sylvia Plath

✨ If you can still find the beauty within the darkest days, sometimes, that alone is an accomplishment. When you feel like you’re drowning, like you can’t even deal anymore, stop for a moment, recollect, take a breath. Then you begin again.

✨ You like because and you love despite.

(You like someone because of all of their qualities & you love someone despite some of their qualities)

✨ A strong woman is one who feels deeply and loves fiercely. Her tears flow as abundantly as her laughter. A strong woman is both soft and powerful, she is both practical and spiritual. A strong woman in her essence is a gift to the world.

✨ All things that live, die. This is why you must find joy in the living, while the time is yours, and not fear the end. To deny this is to deny life. To fear this... is to fear life. But to embrace this... Can you embrace this?

You are stronger than you think. - #IKillGiants

✨ Being normal isn’t necessarily a virtue, it denotes a lack of courage.

✨ Like the moon, she had a side of her so dark that even stars couldn’t shine on it. She had a side of her so cold that even the sun couldn’t burn on it.

✨ Broken girls blossom into warriors

✨ A rose can never be a sunflower. A sunflower can never be a rose. All flowers are beautiful in their own way, and that’s like women too. - Miranda Kerr

✨ Inside everyone there exists a dark side. Most people rise above it but some are consumed by it until there is nothing left but pure evil

✨ Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. - #HarryPotter #PrisonerOfAzkaban

✨ Don't you ever let a soul in the world tell you that you can't be exactly who you are - #LadyGaga

✨ You either get bitter or you get better. It's that simple. You either take what has been dealt to you and allow it to make you a better person or you allow you to tear you down. The choice does not belong to fate, it belongs to you.

✨ She’s a strong cup of black coffee in a world that’s drunk on cheap wine and shallow love.

✨ “Every day you wake up and have a second chance, to do whatever you want, to be whoever you want. The only thing stopping you, is you” - #SecondAct @JLo

✨ It starts with the eyes, she's got to have those kind of eyes that can see through the bullshit to the good in someone, 20% angel, 80% devil - #DominicToretto #FastAndFurious

✨ Ignoring your instincts is like blinding your soul. #TrustYourGut

✨ Let me be clear, my love is unconditional but your presence in my life is not. The moment that you prove that your value of me does not measure up to my sense of self worth — i’ll have no problem unconditionally loving the memory of you.

✨ Intimacy is beyond kisses, cuddles & sex. It’s is crying at night about your past to someone who listens & comforts you. It’s getting a headache, taking a nap & waking up to your partner rubbing your back. Intimacy isn’t all to do with sex, it’s the small things that count

✨ The people you can joke around and have fun with that don’t fit in a box, take no shit, kick ass when needed... the fiercely badass, kindhearted, deep down sweethearts and that are kind of assholes but not full assholes. Yeah, those are my kind of people.

✨ Everything is temporary; Emotions, thoughts, people & scenery. Do not become attached, just flow with it.

✨ It's okay to put your heart on your sleeve. Okay to have that softer side - the softer side in the sense of being able to listen, to deal with fear, to not always be so dominant. 😋 @shemarmoore

✨ Just a reminder: You’re whole without someone else. You are not a fraction. You’re a complete masterpiece all by yourself; you do not need anyone else to validate your existence.

✨ To the women of the world. You’re sexual. You’re soulful. You’re emotional. You’re spiritual. You’re magic. You’re both of the light and the dark. You’re human. Don’t deny any aspect of who you are. A healthy soul is a whole soul.

✨ Be the villain you were born to be. Stop waiting for someone to come along and corrupt you. Succumb to the darkness yourself.

✨ Being dark and twisty is not a flaw, it's a strength.

✨ We're all in the same game, just different levels, dealing with the same hell, just different devils.

✨ She is the kind of dark you only see in a cemetery in October on a haunted Halloween night .

✨ #Chemistry - an attraction that can’t be quantified or explained

✨ All you can count on is now, this moment, because in a blink, everything can change - #Dexter 

✨ The smallest thing can change your life. In the blink of an eye something happens by chance, when you least expect it. - #TheLuckyOne

✨ Sometimes, finding the light means you must pass through the deepest darkness - #TheLuckyOne

✨ Sometimes things hit u all at once. You’re up one day, then down the next. Life is one big wave. All we can do is flow, adapt & transform.

✨ There are three types of people, those at the top, those at the bottom & those who fall. - #ThePlatform

✨ There are things that will happen that will make you feel powerless, that will make you feel insignificant but that’s it, they’re just feelings and sometimes you have to stop feeling & start doing. #Underwater

✨ Yeah I’m somebody’s DUFF, guess what? So are you, so is everybody. There’s always going to be somebody prettier, more talented or richer than you. That should affect how you see yourself. - #TheDuff

✨ Made wiser with heartache. Made stronger by pain.

✨You don’t have to climb a mountain to stand on top of the world.

✨Even the ugliest of places can be beautiful as long as you take the time to look.

✨It’s okay to get lost, as long as you find your way back.

✨ There is beauty in the most unexpected of places

✨There are bright places even in dark times, and if there isn’t, you can be that bright place, with infinite capacities

✨ Physical attraction is beautiful, but it’s the mental attraction that leaves you wanting, needing, craving.

✨ Jealousy - A sign of insecurity, a sign of weakness, a sign of obsession

✨ Like roses we blossom and die.

✨ I have absolutely no need to be liked or understood.

✨ I'd rather be scary than cute. Cute isn't always memorable, but nobody forgets scary

✨ Greatness, lies not in being strong but in the right using of strength. He or she is the greatest whose strength carries up the most hearts, by the attraction of his own. - #Wonder

✨ This darkness of mine cries out for light and all you did was lurk in the shadows. - 🖤

✨ Your demons, your darknesses are part of your masterpiece, your beautiful dark art

✨ What hurts you, blesses you. Darkness is your candle.

✨ “We owe it to the people that we lost, to live the lives that they can’t “ - Meredith Grey 💔

✨ You only get mad because you care. Anger is often an expression only shown towards people and things you care about the most.

✨ To live, is to suffer and to survive, you’ve got to find meaning in the suffering.

✨ She is the wolf they could not ensnare, the voice they could not silence and the fierce wild spirit they could not destroy.

✨ I’m not tearing down my walls for anyone again, you want to know what’s inside? #Climb.

✨ You're a flower. Don't compare yourself to weeds just because they grow faster. 🌷Slow growers have the most resilient roots. 🌱🌻

✨ To find me; you must first unbury me.

✨ Bury me in a dark forest, smelling of the earth, alone with the creatures forevermore.

✨ She’s part lady, she’s part wild, and she’s all fucking storm.

[tinylilemrys]

The Gift of Choice (1/4)

Read it on AO3

Rating: T || Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Summary: Neither Alec nor Magnus is particularly thrilled at the discovery of their soul marks. Alec because he knows that the design of it means that his soulmate is a Downworlder, something practically unheard of in Shadowhunter society. For Magnus, the idea of being permanently attached to a joyless demon-killer is hardly a thrill. Given that they can choose if they accept their soulmate or not, the decision seems like a no-brainer.

But when Alec finally meets the beautiful, other-worldly Magnus and Magnus meets the gorgeous, self-sacrificing Alec, it becomes clear that the decision might not be as easy as they thought it would be.

CHAPTERS: TWO || THREE

CHAPTER ONE

Alec is sixteen when the mark first appears.

Though he instantly recognises it as a Destiny rune, unlike the bold sweeps of his Shadowhunter marks, this one is fine and delicate: a faint white network of lightning bolts just above his right knee. Though he has never seen anything like it, he knows what it might be and that it’s definitely not a good thing. That it’s not right. That it’s dangerous.

He keeps it covered and resolves to tell no one. He couldn’t bear it if his parents looked at him differently. Isabelle might understand, but she’s young and idealistic and inclined to believe that everything happens for some big beautiful romantic reason. She won’t understand that this is a cause for alarm and discretion and secrecy.

And Jace…

Jace will never know about it.

***

The appearance of the mark on Magnus’ thigh, just above his left knee, is the single most interesting thing that has happened to him in a century.

And that’s saying something because the twentieth century was nuts.

He stares at it for ages in his full-length mirror, hardly able to believe that it’s really there. It’s the same shape as the Destiny Rune of the Nephilim, but nothing like the large garish marks that cover their bodies. These lines are white and fine, zigzagging and meshing together in places so that it looks like it’s made of tiny bolts of lightning.

He’s seen this before. Over the centuries he has counselled more than a few confused and frightened Warlocks, Lycanthropes and Children of the Night baring marks of the same size and shape. The idea of it happening to him, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, in the twenty-first century is almost laughable.

He shares a soul mark with a Shadowhunter.

He is a Shadowhunter’s soulmate.

He knows that the mark is just an indication that a soul bond between a Nephilim and Downworlder is possible, that the Angel of the Shadowhunters wills it, but does not necessarily command it. Once Magnus has met the bearer of the matching soul mark, he will be able to choose whether or not to accept the bond. It doesn’t stop the chill that spreads across his skin at the thought of being bound to one of those stoic and humourless warriors.  

With one last glance at the mark, he tugs on his black leather pants and strides to the kitchen to fix himself the stiffest drink he can.

***

“What’s going on with your leg?”

It’s just after midnight and he’s midway through a mouthful of the leftover cake from his eighteenth birthday feast. The soft vanilla sponge suddenly feels like sand in his mouth. Isabelle is standing in the doorway to the kitchen staring at the spot on his right thigh where his mark is hidden underneath his clothes. When he glances down, he sees that to his horror the mark is glowing, the bright purple of it cutting through the weave of his sweatpants.

“Nothing,” Alec lies after swallowing down the cake with difficulty. “It’s my just my cell.”

“You must have some freakishly deep pockets.” Isabelle looks ghostly pale in the witchlight and her shrewd tone; coupled with her dangerously raised eyebrows, make Alec temporarily forget that she’s two years younger than him and at least a head shorter. When he keeps blankly staring at her, too horrified to say anything, she rolls her eyes. “Look, Alec, I’m not asking to see it. I just want to know if it’s what I think it is.”

“What do you think it is?” he asks, aiming for casual and hitting panicky instead. Despite some very close calls, he’s managed to keep his secret for four years now and the thought of it being discovered, of it setting off the course of events that he imagines will change everything, fills him with an icy dread.

“I think it’s a soul mark,” she says. Her eyes shine excitedly at the thought of everything that those words entail. This is exactly the kind of scenario Isabelle loves – danger, secrets and forbidden romance – and Alec absolutely hates. Their job involves throwing themselves headfirst into dangerous situations every day. Why add to it by complicating the parts of their life that are supposed to be a respite from all that?

“Mom says that those are just fairytales,” says Alec. His legs are suddenly having difficulty keeping him upright.

“Mundanes would argue that we’re fairytales. It’s hardly beyond the realm of possibility.” Isabelle strides across the kitchen to him and hitches up the hem of her t-shirt to reveal a mark of her own on her right side just below her ribcage. It’s also unmistakably the Destiny Rune, but while Alec’s looks like it is made of a fine network of electricity (especially now that it has taken to glowing), Isabelle’s white marks are elegant, graceful and dangerously sharp, as if the points of the rune are blades that might pierce the skin of whoever touches them.

“Fuck, you too?” he says and Isabelle nods. While he’s momentarily relieved that he’s not alone in this, his fear immediately doubles knowing that he now has to start worrying about his sister’s secret too.

“I noticed it a few weeks back, after my birthday,” she says, tugging her shirt down again. “I thought I’d somehow been marked with the Destiny Rune at first, but it’s so angular and sharp that I know it can’t be entirely Shadowhunter. You know what this means, don’t you? It means that our soulmates, those the Angel wills us to be with are –”

“Look, it’s the middle of the night and we have a big mission tomorrow night,” says Alec, pouring as much finality into his tone as he can. “Goodnight, Izzy.”

“By the Angel, Alec, you can’t just ignore this. It’s important.”

“Goodnight,” he repeats, striding out of the kitchen.

After a tense walk back to his room, dangling his Rune Stone loosely in his hand in the hopes that the bright witchlight drowns out the glow coming from his skin, Alec locks his door and searches in his wardrobe for the knee support he uses to cover his mark when he wears shorts during his training. He rolls up the leg of his sweatpants and before he pulls on the support, he takes a moment to examine the electric purple glow, marvelling at how it makes his mark look almost alive. Small specs of light still shine through the neoprene, but with the added layer of his sweatpants, the unnerving but admittedly beautiful glow is blotted out.

That night, Alec dreams of bright lights, smoky rooms with high ceilings and spine-tingling music from an otherworldly source. In the midst of a swarm of swaying bodies, Alec dreams the colour purple and of dark but irresistible mirth in a glittering pair of cat’s eyes.

***

It’s difficult to define what he feels when he sits up to read the fire message that comes to him from the New York Institute. The polite, but almost demanding words of Jace Wayland, requesting a meeting between him and Clary Fey at an upcoming Downworlder party in exchange for Camille’s necklace fill him with such a mix of emotions that it takes Magnus reading it four or five times to finally make up his mind about it.

His decision made, he swipes the message aside with a dismissive flick of his hand and rolls onto his back.

It’s mid-morning and he’s still in bed, taking an hour or two of quiet from the otherwise non-stop interaction with the large group of Warlocks who are seeking refuge in his lair. No one has come looking for him yet and he’s grateful that despite their fear, they seem to be mostly happy to give him his space. Kicking off his heavy duvet, he hitches his knees up to examine his soul mark for the millionth time, tracing gentle fingers over it like he has for over two years now. It’s been glowing purple for the last week or so and from previous experience, he knows that means that it’s almost time for him to meet the Shadowhunter he’s fated to. It’s this more than anything that seals his decision to attend the meeting. If there’s even the slightest chance that he can meet the bearer of the other soul mark so that he can dismiss them and get on with his life, he’s determined to take it.

Though he hasn’t been strictly discreet about the mark (more than a few of his diversions have remarked upon it mid-kiss, much to Magnus’ annoyance), with Valentine out there hunting down his kind, he knows that the animosity from his people towards the Clave is at an all-time high and it would be unwise to flaunt any signs of familiarity and affection towards them. Not that he has any affection for them. To Magnus, the Nephilim are a necessary evil, an unavoidable part of living in the Supernatural world, no better or worse than any other being, even if they do have angel blood running through their veins. Despite this, for the past week Magnus has had to wrap his knee in dark fabric before pulling on his clothes to make sure that the bright purple light doesn’t cause suspicion, and the extra bulk has been throwing off how amazing he knows his legs look in skinny jeans.

He will have to tell Elias about the meeting, to make sure that he can hold the wards while he’s gone, and he already anticipates how badly that conversation will go. Groaning with the future exhaustion of it, Magnus throws an arm across his eyes and wonders, not for the first time, how he manages to get himself into these situations.

Chairman Meow hops up onto the bed next to him and Magnus turns to look at him, sighing as he strokes him behind his ears.

“Time to meet my Prince or Princess Charming I guess.”

It’s not a happy thought.

***

He tells Isabelle he feels better after his outburst in the weapons room, but he feels worse. There is a dread at the pit of his stomach far worse than any dread he’s ever experienced before a mission. The stakes are higher than they’ve ever been. This mission is the riskiest one they’ve ever faced and no amount of Jace’s determination or Isabelle’s almost naïve positivity is doing anything to quell the enormous fear that bubbles just beneath the surface of his skin.

And for what? For some girl with the most tenuous of connections to their world. A girl who might as well be a mundane.

He glares at the back of her stupid orange head as they walk, glamoured, to the nearest subway station. He hates every ignorant, clueless word that comes from her mouth, hates the way that they’re risking everything for her despite having known her for an amount of time quantifiable in hours and most of all, he hates the way Jace looks at her, as if every word she says is a gift and every flick of her hair is a work of art.

The way he’s always secretly hoped Jace would look at him.

“Oh lighten up, Alec,” says Isabelle, threading her arm through his. “We’re going to a Downworlder party which means that there’s a chance you might finally find out why you’ve got that awesome lumo tattoo.”

Alec wants to tell her to shut up, to stop being such a pain in the ass and to realise how fucked up this whole situation is. Instead, he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being so damn… up all the time?”

“Don’t you ever get sick of being such a downer?”

“Arrgh, Izzy you’re so…” he gestures frustratedly with his free hand.

“Adorable?” she grins. “I know.”

He’s still mad, but despite himself, Alec finds that he’s grinning too.

***

Magnus tries to convince himself that the meeting was a success. That the heavy necklace forming a comfortable weight in his pocket proves that it was.

But Clary is as stubborn as her mother, Jace, the surly Shadowhunter who organised the meeting is made of pure asshole and the cherry on top of it all is that he was nearly knifed. Apart from the bright flicker of something that rose in him upon seeing the tall, dark-haired Shadowhunter who saved him with a well-aimed and perfectly-timed arrow, the night was a disaster and Magnus has never been so excited at the thought of the high ceilings and exposed brick walls of his lair.

His excitement quickly turns to horror on the other side of the portal.

Despite knowing for a fact that his living room was supposed to be full of Warlocks keeping up the wards in his absence, he immediately senses that the wards are down. Fearing the worst he bursts through the front door and barely has time to register the bodies of his friends strewn around his living room like ragdolls before spotting two strange men on the other side of the room.

Rage floods through him and he immediately begins launching attack after attack at them, managing to incinerate one of them. The other glances around at his burning friend, his face betraying horror before turning back and smirking malevolently at Magnus. Backing towards the door, Magnus uses a surge of magic to throw a bookshelf in front of the man.

He needs to trip. Spells are always harder to cast on a moving target.

In grim and hollow amusement, through a rip in the knee of his pants, his eyes catch a glint of luminescent gold.

So he did meet his Shadowhunter tonight after all.

***

Magnus Bane is nothing like Alec imagined him and even with the pictures Hodge showed them earlier, seeing him in person is unnerving and surreal.

He would expect a Warlock reluctantly coming out of hiding to try to dress somewhat inconspicuously, but Bane seems to have dressed to draw the eye as much as possible. The sequined collar of his patterned jacket catches the colourful lights of the club, as do the pendants around his neck, rings on his fingers and earring just below the tip of his ear. His hair is artfully tousled and Alec notices with a jolt, discovering a new one of his ‘things’, that Bane’s eyes are elegantly lined with dark makeup.

He’s hot, he admits to himself with only the slightest reluctance.

Alec is taken aback when, a second later, as if to throw all his remaining fucks out the window, Bane casts a portal and offers a hand to Clary. Alec is surprised, but not so surprised that he doesn’t feel a faint sense of relief at the idea of Clary leaving.

Good. Go with the Warlock and be his problem from now on.

Then, just behind the portal, Alec’s eye catches the glint of a Seraph blade.

He doesn’t know how he reacts as quickly as he does. Years of training have honed his reflexes to razor sharpness, but nothing like this. One moment he’s watching the exchange between Jace, Clary and Bane, unable to tear his eyes away from the glittering Warlock when, and the next, one of his arrows is embedded in the chest of the figure wielding the knife. He doesn’t even remember drawing his bow.

He rushes down the stairs to retrieve his arrow, unable to ignore the faint crackle of electricity he feels as he passes the Warlock, nor the interested ‘Who are you?’ he’s sure he hears the Warlock mutter. He doesn’t know why, but the vague inkling that Bane might be just as surprised and fascinated by him as he is by Bane makes him feel immensely pleased with himself.

He realises that this must be how Jace feels all the time.

No sooner has he catalogued this string of confusing and incoherent thoughts than the Bane is stepping towards the portal, ignoring Clary’s pleas for him not to leave. He loosens himself from her grasp and a second later, vanishes along with the necklace and any bargaining power with him that they thought they might have. Large groups of Downworlders are staring at them now and they race out of the club before anyone can start asking questions.

If Alec was angry before, it’s nothing to the seething rage he feels now.

How can Jace not see what a liability this stupid, immature girl is? How is he so blind to the irresponsible, life-threatening risks they’re taking for her?

As Jace starts admonishing him for pointing out how stupid this whole situation is, It’s all Alec can do not to punch him in pure frustration.

And now Clary is yelling at him. Clary whose fault this is. Clary who has no idea what she is asking Jace and Isabelle and him to do. What she’s asking them to put on the line for her sake.

Alec has to grit his teeth to fight the urge to hit her too.

He is both relieved and frustrated when Jace opens his hand to reveal the button from Magnus Bane’s jacket. Part of him, the part of him that is pure Shadowhunter, wants nothing more than to shake this Magnus Bane for all the information he has so that they can get their hands on the Mortal Cup and this whole nightmare can be over. The other part of him, the part of him that is Jace, is terrified of what information from the Warlock might mean for his Parabatai’s sudden disregard for his own life.

There’s another part of him that’s begging for another glance at the Warlock, but Alec pushes this part down as far as he can.

Alec ultimately finds himself pleased when Jace can’t track Bane, and there’s a moment fleeting victory in the idea that they won’t be able to carry on with the Mundane girl’s deadly wild goose chase. It evaporates a second later, however, when Jace turns to him expectantly and Alec knows what he’s going to ask before he asks it.

Parabatai tracking. Of course.

There are times that being Jace’s Parabatai is the most beautiful thing in the world. When in the middle of a fight it feels less like a battle and more like a choreographed dance and when their shared memories become almost physical chords that strengthen the bond between them, ties that almost tangibly bind them.

There are other times, however, where Alec deeply resents their connection, when he hates the fact that they are stronger together, that they’re weaker apart, and that he’ll go along with pretty much anything Jace asks him to do.

This is one of those times.

He grasps Jace’s outstretched hand, pushing away the jolt he feels whenever their skin connects and tries to drown out the litany of unhelpful thoughts that surge as he stares into Jace’s bright blue eyes. It’s almost cruel how the one thing he wants most in the world plays a vital part in any Parabatai ritual, but never in the right way. Never how Alec wants it to be.

After a few agonising moments where Alec’s heart beats so loudly against his ribcage, he’s sure that Jace can feel it thrumming through his palm, they catch a glimpse of a run-down warehouse and Magnus inside it. Jace lets go of Alec’s hand and immediately sets off, expecting the rest of them to follow him.

Alec resentfully, but obediently, does.

They’re barely inside the warehouse when they realise that something isn’t right. Bane’s wards are down which can only mean danger.

Alec’s heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. Of course this wasn’t going to be a straightforward house call.

“You,” he says to Clary, full of hatred so acute, he feels as if he might choke on it, “don’t get in the way.”

He sees his loathing for her reflected back at him and it fills him with an odd satisfaction. At least they have something in common.

The sight of one of Valentine’s men violently stabbing another man snaps him instantly back into focus. He’ll worry about Clary later; right now he has a job to do.

There are people on the lower level and Alec knows that he should be helping them – after all, Jace seems to have the better idea of where Bane might be – but somewhere in his gut, he feels drawn to the top floor where he hopes that the Warlock is still alive and fighting.

“I’ve got Bane,” he says to Jace as he dashes past, bow at the ready, and Jace nods, throwing a knife expertly into the shoulder of the man Isabelle had caught in her whip. He tries not to think about the stupid smile he sees Clary give him as he makes his way along a narrow walkway towards what he assumes is Bane’s front door.

There are people strewn everywhere and it’s not clear if they’re dead or alive. Alec has to swallow his horror as he rounds a corner to find Bane fighting off the advance of a horrible smirking man. With the same unexplainable reflexes that he discovered at the party, Alec shoots an arrow and it flies true, straight into the asshole’s leg. The man recoils in pain and while he lies prone, Bane makes quick work of finishing him off.

“Well done,” says Alec, genuinely impressed. He doesn’t often get to see magic up-close.

“More like medium rare,” he shrugs. A second or two later, the Warlock is striding towards him and time seems to grind to a halt as Alec’s brain short-circuits. While he’s found many men attractive over the years, it was never like this. Whether because Magnus Bane is a Downworlder or just one of the most interesting people Alec has ever seen, this is something new and uncharted and dangerous and he doesn’t know if he loves it or hates it yet.

All he knows is that Magnus is very beautiful and now he’s standing very close to him. There’s a faint gold glow coming from somewhere between them and it catches the traces of glitter on his face, giving him an almost angelic look.

“I’m Magnus. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”

The friendly smile on his face masks something pleasantly dark and wicked just beneath and Alec can’t help the silly grin that takes over his own features knowing that he’s got Magnus’ full attention. That all of Magnus’ charm in that moment is directed at him.

“Alec,” he says, and Magnus smile shifts suddenly to something almost shy. It’s disarming but lovely and Alec realises panicked that he needs to get out of there. Now.

“I, uh… we should really, you know, probably get… you know?” He gestures towards the door, words tumbling uselessly out of his mouth.

“Right,” Magnus nods. “We should join the party.”

His tone is amused but kind and Alec suddenly wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him.

“Right,” Alec repeats breathlessly, before turning and all but running towards Magnus’ front door. He leans just outside it for a moment, allowing his brain a moment to process what just happened.

The fuck, Lightwood?

It’s only halfway down the stairs that Alec realises that the golden glow that lit up Magnus’ face had been coming from a rip in Magnus’ pants, right where there would be a glow coming from Alec’s if his were ripped like that.

In his shock, he misses a step and nearly plunges headfirst down the rest of the stairs, when he’s stopped in midair and gently lifted back to his feet by what feels like a warm breeze. He glances around to see Magnus at the top of the stairs, purple light retracting back into his hand and amusement deeply etched into his features. The tear at his knee looks like it’s been repaired, but whether through his Shadowhunter abilities or just wishful thinking, Alec thinks he can still see the faint glow of gold beneath the blue fabric.

“Now, Alexander, it won’t do to have you falling for me so quickly,” he almost purrs as he descends to where Alec is standing, dumbstruck. “We’ve only just met, after all.”

Magnus is teasing, flirting, and Alec knows it. What he knows even more though is that his words are more true than Alec is willing to admit.

Fucking Warlocks.

***

Shadowhunters, Magnus muses as he finally crawls into bed, are probably far more trouble than they’re worth.

Only a Shadowhunter could save your life after being summoned to an ultimately useless and disappointing meeting, track you down after you portal the fuck out of there, arrive just in time to heroically help save your life and the lives of many of the other Warlocks in your care, help you move home (in a way), then ask your help in summoning a greater demon, fuck up the ritual so thoroughly that not only is the whole operation rendered useless, but someone nearly dies, then demand help for said nearly killed someone and, finally, stalk off sullenly because the ritual made you confront actual feelings.

Not that Magnus is keeping score or anything.

He lies staring at the golden glow of what used to be his perfectly normal (though admittedly flawless) leg, wondering what he fucked up so royally in the last decade or two so as to warrant this fresh hell. Is he doomed now to always be dragged into the insane mix of bureaucracy and violence that is the world of the Nephilim?

No. Not if he doesn’t want to be. He still has a choice.

But his choice just got one whole Alexander Lightwood more complicated.

He definitely met the bearer of the other soul mark tonight (there’s no other way his mark would be glowing gold like this) he knows it must be one of four people. It’s not Clary or Isabelle – their marks would have been visible below the hems of their dresses – leaving Magnus with just Sullen Steve (who seems to only have eyes for Clary anyway) and sweet, shy and impenetrably guarded Alec, the conundrum. It’s his conviction that Alec is the owner of the matching mark that makes it so difficult for Magnus to be as convinced about his decision as he was a few days earlier.

The idea of soulmates is almost entirely a Shadowhunter one, grounded in their belief that their Angel connects people who will bring out the best in each other for the good of the world. As such, the concept is not one that usually exists in his usual circles. The only occasions where Downworlders give it any thought are times like this, where a mark suddenly appears on their skin with no explanation and they come looking for answers.

“’When the Nephilim meet their fated, the Destiny Rune marks the skin on the same part of their bodies – one’s mark on the left and the other’s on the right,” Magnus has explained dozens of times throughout the centuries. “However, if the Angel wills that a Nephilim be fated to a Downworlder, the mark appears sooner, as a warning to both that if they choose this path, it will not be easy. You will notice that these pale white lines may remain exactly as they are for a long time. Then, shortly before you meet your fated, the soul mark will begin to glow. This is a sign that you should pay attention to any Nephilim you might meet. Once you have met your fated, it will glow gold and after both of you acknowledge that you share the mark, it will glow white. From here you will have a choice. You will either be able to choose to pursue a life with your fated, in which case your soul marks will fade to black as the Nephilim’s do, or you can choose to go your separate ways and the marks will vanish altogether. It is important to know that this mark does not bind you to anything unless you want it to, that there is no limit to the time you may take to consider your decision, but that whatever you decide, whether for or against, it is final and there is no way to reverse it. This choice is a gift not granted to ordinary Nephilim soul pairs, so do not take it lightly.”

Magnus’ words sound hollow and glib now that he’s actually faced with the reality of them. A gift indeed. More like being stuck between a Shadowhunter and an Alec-less place. He can’t put his finger on what it is about the Shadowhunter boy that fascinates him so much, though the fact that he’s one of the most gorgeous people Magnus has ever encountered definitely doesn’t hurt.

He supposes it’s his thing with the cats.

In all his years, he’s never once owned a cat that was not plucked, cold and shivering, from a gutter or alleyway or found abandoned and starving in an apartment that an unfeeling family had since vacated. Magnus brings them home, heals them, shows them the good life, loves them. And, if he’s honest, it’s not just cats. His drive to heal and fix is the reason his home is always open to any Downworlder in need, why there are a half a dozen Warlocks in his living room right at this moment.

So many things in the world need repairing and Magnus, though unapologetically prone to his bouts of hedonism and selfishness, enjoys being a part of repairing them.

Not that Alec needs repairing though. He’s not broken, just convinced that he’s invisible. His shy garbled introduction, the surprised but pleased smile he gets every time Magnus flirts with him, the entire disaster with the memory demon and how he refuses to publicly acknowledge who he really is and what he really feels – all of it points to deep-seated insecurity and certainty that hiding is the best way to eke out an existence. Seeing him with the other Shadowhunters, it makes sense. Between Jace’s arrogant but effortless charm, Isabelle’s beauty and vivacious personality and even Clary’s naïve vulnerability, it’s easy to see how Alec gets overlooked. How he allows himself to be overlooked because he thinks it’s the norm.

What Alec needs is for someone to see him – to truly make the effort to dig through all his unnecessary layers of protection and to show him that it’s okay to be visible. That it’s okay to be acknowledged and noticed and loved for who he is and what he does. And since it seems like no one else is looking, Magnus decides that, soulmate or not, it might be up to him.

As much as Magnus could stay up (and indeed, wants to stay up) pondering Alec all night, he realises that he’s used a lot of magic and he needs sleep if he's to have any hope of strengthening his wards tomorrow. He pulls up his covers and glances at the dull golden glow beneath the grey of his bedding. Chairman Meow is on the pillow next to him, cleaning his face.

“Young man, if I ever find you talking to any Shadowhunter cats, you have no idea how grounded you’ll be.”

The cat pauses in the middle of licking his paw to fix Magnus with a withering glare and the Warlock chuckles as he turns over to sleep.

Between Valentine and this new self-imposed mission, Magnus realises that this is going to be a long century.

[khalilhumam]

Is Belarus in the midst of a generational upheaval?

New Post has been published on http://khalilhumam.com/is-belarus-in-the-midst-of-a-generational-upheaval/

Is Belarus in the midst of a generational upheaval?

Our survey indicates deepening generational divides on key political issues

“Fair elections. A tribunal. Freedom for political prisoners” reads this banner during protests in Minsk, Belarus, August 16, 2020. Photo CC-BY-SA-3.0: Homoatrox / Wikimedia Commons. Some rights reserved.

< p class="p1">Belarus today is a state in turmoil. Courageous protestors face off against a brutalising security apparatus that has sided with the country’s longstanding leader, Alyaksandr Lukashenka. This crackdown comes after mass protests which have bought hundreds of thousands to the streets, enraged at plausible accounts of fraud in the presidential elections of August 9. To some, Belarus is now under “occupation” by a dictatorial regime that has no popular support. To others, Belarus is being undermined by plots from the United States. Beyond these charged claims is a more complex reality of a country divided on many levels even before recent events. A sense of these divisions is evident from a nationally representative survey we conducted in Belarus at the outset of this turbulent year.

Our survey in January 2020 was part of a large project that examines the geopolitical orientations of people in the countries and de facto territories on the borders of Russia. It is motivated by the evidence that different trajectories are reshaping post-Soviet space – with strong support for more integration with the Western institutions in Ukraine and Georgia but continued close ties to Russia in the other polities. Belarus is especially interesting because its close economic and political-military ties to Russia have weakened in the past 10 years. But Belarus has also posed a headache to researchers due to the difficulty of garnering reliable data about domestic politics, especially about the actual level of support for President Lukashenka. Regional experts, including at the Russian International Affairs Council (RIAC), have offered estimates. In our national survey, we calculated Lukashenka’s approval at 26 percent in a list experiment that collects reliable responses, a figure that is close to other estimates.

Our representative national survey of 1,209 responses was conducted by an established and reputable survey company in Belarus, under our supervision and with the consultation and computer support of external survey experts for sampling design and tablet programming. We are not identifying the polling agency here out of caution given the current repressive situation in Belarus. Our procedures followed the best survey practices in random sampling of the population for face-to-face interviews. The results that we show here are the answers weighted to take into account the slight differences between the most recent population data and the numbers in our survey across regional and demographic groups.  Given the regime restrictions on face-to-face polling, we believe that these data are the best available and importantly, they show the societal divisions that underlie the recent protests against the Lukashenka presidency. Foremost among these divides is a huge generational rift between those who became adults during the Soviet period and those born after 1990.

The highly improbable scenario of Lukashenka winning 80 percent in the August election is undermined by our survey data. The events of summer 2020 probably reduced his support even more than the low rate that we already saw in January. As he continued his almost 30 year presidency of static policy, his society was changing irrevocably without him. His supporters in the older age categories (over 60) declined over time so that by the 2009 Belarusian census they were outnumbered (3.5 million to 2 million) by those under 45. As the graphs below reveal, younger Belarusians (45 or younger) differ dramatically in political outlook from their elders.

A significant divide concerns views about the Soviet system (Graph 1). Young voters (those aged 30 or younger) are three times more likely to approve of the collapse of the Soviet Union that those aged over 60. While the Soviet system was deeply flawed and repressive, for many it provided social stability and a certain minimum of social welfare provision that older voters now recall with nostalgia. We have seen this demographic pattern in dozens of surveys that we have conducted over the past 25 years across the post-Soviet space, but the gaps across the generations in Belarus in 2020 are among the largest. Although Belarus has not seen the scale of dislocation of jobs and material prospects evident elsewhere, the stagnation of the past three decades has nonetheless produced a sense among younger generations that they have been left behind.

Graph 1

A simple but powerful question asks about “the general direction of the country” and respondents are offered a stark choice – in the right or wrong direction. These ratios are highly indicative of both the current status and also the perceived immediate future. On the direction of Belarus under the leadership of Lukashenka (Graph 2), younger adults are more than twice as likely (55 percent) as older residents (22 percent) to respond with the wrong direction answer. As the age of respondents increases, the shift from negative to positive views of the direction changes proportionately. Overall, only 29 percent thought that the country was heading in the right direction, 52 percent in the wrong direction with 17 percent uncertain. In any society with fair elections, these ratios would portend a change of government as an incumbent regime would be blamed for this poor outlook.

Graph 2

Given the close, long-established economic and political relations between Belarus and Russia, generational differences evident on the graph of “which power has the greatest status?” are surprising. The term ‘greatest status’ is deliberately vague. For some, it might mean acknowledging military strength, for others economic leadership and for yet others, cultural attraction and soft power. One would expect that Russia would be favored for this status, but as Graph 3 shows, the differences between generations are clear. For the two generations younger than 45, a plurality nominate the United States; for those aged 46-60, a plurality picked Russia and for the over 60 age group, a majority picked Russia. Interestingly, China out-scores the EU across all ages and comes close to the Russian ratio for the younger age groups.  A recognition of changing geopolitical realities and a relative diminution of Russia’s status for the young is reflected in these results. Other recent research confirms these broad trends among young Belarusians.

Graph 3

What lies behind these big generational gaps? As Graph 4 shows, preferred sources of information appear to play an important role. But the exact causality remains unclear. Do younger people avoid television because it provides a steady diet of state-controlled information and look to the internet and social media instead? Or does access to web-based information about the nature of Western societies lead to a rejection of the kind of society that Lukashenka has controlled for decades? Either way, the overwhelming reliance on television for information by the over 60s stands in sharp contrast with the role the internet plays for about half of the respondents under 45. 

Graph 4

This Western orientation is promoted, hardened, and confirmed by the preference of movies from Hollywood and to a lesser extent from Europe (Graph 5). Here a clear difference in movies between the 18-30 and the 31-45 age groups shows the broader popularity of Western cinema to the younger group. For those born or socialised in Soviet times (now aged over 45), Soviet and contemporary Russian movies retain their traditional appeal.

Graph 5

In sum, we have identified through these data a younger generation, culturally oriented to the West, which prefers Western democracy to the current or Soviet model, rejecting Soviet traditions and, of course, Lukashenka. When asked about the best political system (Graph 6), those aged 18 to 30 overwhelmingly chose the generic option ‘Western democracy’ over the more concrete options of the current system in Belarus, the Russian political system and the Soviet system which they have experienced. By contrast, those over 60 are clear in their rejection of ‘Western democracy’ and preference for the Soviet system. The two political systems most removed from contemporary Belarus (the Western and Soviet models) get more support than those familiar for the past 30 years. There is no one ‘Western democracy’ model, of course, but the power of that ideal in contrast to the reality in Belarus, and Russia, is one reason we see so many young people putting their bodies on the line in protests across Belarus each weekend.

Graph 6

While unambiguous generational differences are visible on these graphs, the generations do not always show divergent preferences on other issues. For example, there are no significant generational differences in religious beliefs nor in conservative social mores, on questions about whether “a husband should make the important decisions”, or whether “marriage should be between a man and a woman” (over 90 percent agreement across the generations). All generations disagree strongly that the Maidan revolution of 2014 was a positive development for neighbouring Ukraine and disagree with the removal of Lenin monuments, a lasting legacy of Soviet times on the Belarusian landscape. 

Western liberals looking at young protestors in Belarus, thus, should know that they hold some conservative attitudes. While they are Western-oriented, preferring its political institutions and cultural products, they also reject, like their elders, many of the liberal social and political attitudes now mainstream in parts of the European Union (though not in some government circles, like in Belarus's neighbour Poland). At the moment, however, their aspirations are eclipsed by a repressive dictatorship.

The authors acknowledge funding for this work from a joint National Science Foundation/Research Council UK grant (NSF award #1759645; ESRC award # ES/S005919/1).

Find out more about the turmoil in Belarus here

Written by John O’Loughlin, Gerard Toal, Kristin Bakke

[sasorikigai]

BLOOD GODS - Cold Nights Meta 

While Hanzo and Takeda tail Sub-Zero to the town of Kahishari, Japan, Hanzo references the fated battle between himself as Scorpion and Kuai Liang, where he lost, and Sub-Zero was surrounded by the Cyber Lin Kuei, having unwillingly forced to be cyberized. He cites that it was a technical loss, because they were interrupted in the midst of it. When they encounter Lin Kuei cyborgs as they engage in battle, they find out not only they are frozen solid, but the whole city remains frozen. Hanzo comments that Kuai Liang wasn’t powerful enough to do this even under Quan Chi’s control, and speculates that he’s already possessed. 

Your brother’s murderer! His apprentice cannot be trusted... They defy the BLOOD CODE! Remove their spines.

Kuai Liang also comments on Hanzo’s power, that he couldn’t recognize him without the fire in his eyes. As unwanted brothers-in-arms as the Hellspawn Spectre and Quan Chi’s Revenant, they would have intimately gauged their powers, and even merge their combined powers together to exact shrewd justice upon the Earthrealm, slaughtering the innocents. 

Havik, the wicked cleric of the Chaosrealm in Shang Tsung’s Island watches, as Scorpion and Sub-Zero brutally and viciously fight out, as he wants nothing, but to reclaim Hanzo Hasashi’s soul. 

They exchange their dominance, Sub-Zero seemingly gaining his upper hand as Hanzo continues to feint. This is a huge parallel when it comes to Hanzo’s own training to Takeda in the Interlude; where he questions his apprentice when he simply begins to dodge Forrest Fox’s barraging onslaught. Hanzo does not want to genuinely kill Kuai Liang, for he is corrupted, in his own words, ‘making them psychotic murderers.’ The Kamidogu- possessed Sub-Zero continues to mock Hanzo, citing that he’s just going through the motions and tell himself that he’s a man and not a wraith, but deep down, he knows the man is a lie. This “Hanzo Hasashi” is a weak imposter of a long-dead warrior. When he is destroyed, the real Scorpion will rise. 

The battle itself shows Kuai Liang’s myriads of abilities, including superhuman physical characteristics (possessing superhuman strength allowing him capable of shattering not only stacks of stone slabs, rip people in half, break skulls, throw heavyweight bodies and easily shred armored cyborgs as proven before and during the fight with Hanzo), martial arts (ninjutsu, Shotokan, Dragon Kung Fu, Yuan Yang, Fencing), weapon mastery (Wields daggers, swords, hammers, shields, spears, axes, clubs, improvised and makeshift weaponry made of ice), ice manipulation (able to generate ice by absorbing air/freezing water vapor), stealth mastery (as a Lin Kuei assassin, he is experienced in Ninjutsu techniques. Infiltrated the Cyber Lin Kuei factory and a Red Dragon temple. Can do quiet teleports), acrobatics, exercising enhanced condition, hypermobility, all-terrain mobility and self-momentum. He can jump far distances, perform forward & backward rolls, stay balanced on smooth ice, etc., weapon creation (can create weapons using his powers), air manipulation (can emit super-chilled air), intangibility (Can turn his body into ice), teleportation (can turn into ice before reforming somewhere else), breath attack (can spew out cold air), Absolute Zero, damage boost and Chi manipulation (can perform a Neijin, a chi control method that increases the power of his own attacks), etc. Canonically, Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang) always has been stronger than Hanzo, but such dominance is only heightened by the Kamidogu Dagger as he happens to freeze both Hanzo and Takeda in a moment of time, entombing them in before Kuai Liang comes to his senses. 

Hanzo frees himself from the solid ice, blaming Sub-Zero for not returning the relic to Raiden years ago. Even when Kuai Liang offers Hanzo for them to return to Raiden and offer an explaination, Hanzo still mires himself in the past and the pain which prompted to rise an inception of Scorpion, as he mocks Bi-Han for never taking the proper measures for the Lin Kuei’s crimes against the Shirai Ryu. Hanzo gives to the Scorpion’s persona, damning Kuai Liang’s soul to the Netherrealm as he strikes the final blow. 

Scorpion seems to have shifted the blame he originally placed on Bi-Han for his supposed murder of the Shirai Ryu onto him, much to Kuai Liang's annoyance. It doesn't really help matters that Scorpion was essentially wrong to blame him or his brother in the first place. 

Scorpion: Murderer. Sub-Zero: I tire of maintaining our innocence.

It only showcases Kuai Liang’s emotional maturity over Hanzo, at least in this epochs of time (set between MK9 and MKX, shortly after they were resurrected back to regain their human, organic forms), whom had evolved greatly and becomes one of the most morally aware characters of the series, even taking over his former clan to lead them in a more righteous direction. Kuai Liang’s resilience would not have been born, even on the verge of his death, even when he feels like he is dying as the obsidian darkness creeps closer. 

Sub-Zero: “I’m not a m-monster, Hanzo... We did... Horrible things while I was possessed... Working together in Quan Chi’s service... but don’t you remember the agony... of being controlled by an evil spirit?” 

Scorpion: “No... I remember the last time I held my son, the last time my wife called my name. THE AGONY OF LOSING THEM.” 

For Hanzo, it’s still too difficult for him to not let himself be mired in the past, for nothing has opened his life to the kind of happiness he still has difficulty comprehending and grasping; a love that goes beyond just superficiality, a bond that’s so real that no matter what the world does or brings forth, they will always translate to negative emotions with both connotations and denotations. As Takeda effectively pointed out, Hanzo does not know what it’s like to be controlled, because all the evil he’s done was his own choice; for vengeance misguided him. Instead of giving into the vengeance like the blood demon wants (Scorpion’s persona), burn everything Hanzo Hasashi has worked for, or help to save the world so they could rebuild the Shirai Ryu. It takes Hanzo’s own words for Scorpion’s persona to retract back, possibly saving Kuai Liang - though still, leaving him to exsanguinate and die - and to take the Kamidogu back and take it to the Sky Temple. 

Scorpion: “He was already injured. And what good is winning... If I’m losing myself?” 

While Kuai Liang’s world had been a saboteur itself, too cold, brutal and vicious for his soft, warm, compassionate heart, too unfair and too cruel for this heart so full of love. And I’d like to believe ever since being destroyed, laying in the puddle of his blood and bones of shame and defeat, his emotions would have retracted back to the point where he would appear to be phlegmatic, calm and collected at all times, as he would no longer let his thoughts drown his being. Despite it all, Sub-Zero still remains not only the most bravest, intrepid and ferocious warriors the Earthrealm has ever seen - it only makes sense that he wields Cryomancer’s blood, which originates from Outworld and Edenia itself - but the most kindest in the world. 

Death itself is the ultimate separation. There is no turning back and very often, there is no time goodbyes. However, Hanzo and Kuai never live in fear of death; for living is something that burns more bright like the truth, and in turn, becomes a form of self-harm because without their honor, passion to rebuild/reform the Shirai Ryu/the Lin Kuei, as they are the last of their kind, as without their ambitions to better themselves not only for their respective clans, stops them from actually enjoying the time we have for living. It also takes a lot of introspection, internalization and struggle to reach that stage. They are warriors who are not only afraid to die, but mortals who have conquered the death itself, who have simply found and understood that nature’s ways cannot be changed. That does not stop them from regretting that the same nature’s laws are painful for them.

[hotcocosharing]

Done With You Part 5 (KBTBB Angst)

Me as OC Hana hobo4lyfe11 as Eisuke 

Eisuke’s POV 

HANA! I’M COMING TO GET YOU!” were the last words spoken. The last words that captivated the attention of every man below. The last words uttered before the dance of bullets began, and first-blood was shed.

Nothing screams, “Come ambush me,” more than Ota literally screaming, “Anyone who wants to stop me can come and get me!” I guess thats why he was in charge of being the decoy.

Within a fraction of a second, several hundreds of gunshots can be heard. From the trees and bushes, flies swarms of projectiles that follow purposeful paths. The night is lit up from the sparks of light bouncing off of our cover. What better distraction is there than a full, blown-out war?

I use the diversion to disappear into the building through the back door and ascend the dark infrastructure slowly and cautiously. Finding my way up to the top floor, all evidence of the stealth approach is thrown out of the window as the sound of a resounding bang forces my pace to quicken, faster than I’ve ever moved before. Should I not die from the rescue mission itself, I felt like I was sure to die from worry and desperation alone.

The locked door separating me, from my Hana, may as well have not existed at all, because the adrenaline rushing through my blood, broke down the barrier like it was nothing. It felt effortless and easy, but promised a painful morning the next day. Before I even had a chance to assess my surroundings, a shadow looms over me, increasing in size as a dark red clothed body flies in my direction and throws me off balance.

“Baba?” I grunt, shoving him off of me.

“OH! Boss, you made it!” the thief sings cheerfully, all smiles, unbefitting of the situation and the fact that he was hurled across the room just a second ago. His light-hearted laugh is interrupted by the sound of a cocking of a gun. A man in grey has us held at point-blank range, “Hello, Mr Ichinomiya. It’s so nice to finally meet the man who ruined my father’s business and, as a result, destroyed my life. I wanted to return the favour by taking the thing most precious to you as you did, me!”

I stare at the man with a neutral expression. Half not wanting to boost his ego, knowing he held an advantage over us, half in thought. “Ah, you must not recognise me. Apologies on my part, I rudely forgot to introduce myself. Nice to meet you, I’m Keiji Ozaki, son of the the man you wrongfully stole the Burj Khalifa from, here to get my revenge.” He snickers, transitioning to a maniac, hysterical laugh, thinking he’s defeated us. How naive. Unfortunately for him, I always win.

I swiftly shoot his leg and he falls to the ground dramatically. His inexperience in this sort of matter clearly evident from not checking me for weapons.

“What an amateur,” I scoff defiantly, “It’s a shame you were destined for failure, being brought up under the control of your idiot-father. Too bad, I’m not one to pity, especially for those who think they can overthrow me so easily.” With my finger on the trigger and the barrel of my gun to his forehead, I’m prepared to end this once and for al—

!BOOM!

The ground shakes with incredible magnitude and I’m knocked onto the floor by the force. Keiji, expecting the bomb below, quickly dashes towards the bed and grabs a hold of Hana’s unconscious body. “Let go of her!” I yell, as shakily as the crumbling floor below me. Baba makes a half step forward with a gun directed at Ozaki by which he reclaims the distance by taking a half step back, towards the window.

“I’ll let her go, if you let me go,” he bargains as he presses his gun to the temple of her head.

Coward. Using a defenceless girl as a scapegoat, I guess he isn’t brainless after all. Baba and I are left powerless as we eye each other. He takes a chance and abruptly pushes Hana towards us, catching us off guard and making his escape out of the window.

Glass shards scatter in every direction, another bomb explodes and the ground quakes violently. “We have to get out of here!” concerns Baba, “The building is going to collapse. We have no choice but to jump!”

“WHAT?! Are you insane, Baba?”

“Relax Boss, if that clown escaped out that window then I’m sure we can, too!” he chirps, all, too happily.

“Fine, but you’re going first,” I say, “Wait, WH—“ I push him out of the window and he lands on the inflatable crash pad at the foot of the building. Well, I guess it’s our turn. I hold Hana in my arms and take a leap. Mid-air, stray bullets from the feud between the others and the enemy, pierce the crash pad in what feels like slow motion.

Crap! no. No. NO! No matter what, I have to protect her. Shifting our bodies hastily, I circle my arms around her tiny, fragile frame and tuck her head comfortably into my chest, embracing for the colossal impact that await our arrival below.

“BOSS!”

That was all I could hear in the midst of the gunfire and explosion before I felt the crack of my body against the deflating pad and the concrete ground. Ears ringing, sight fading, body breaking, Baba and Ota make their way to my paralysed body. “Take Hana and get back to the car, I’ll meet you there,” I groan with much difficulty. The dark lure of unconsciousness is so enticing but I’m doing everything I can to resist the temptation. “Not a chance! Ota you take Hana and I’ll support boss.”

We struggle on, back to our vehicle with Soryu, Mamoru and the Ice Dragon covering our backs. Heh, and they say they don’t care about each other… Seems like my trust in the bidders was absolute because in the protection of their hands, my body gives in and the darkness of slumber consumes me.

Light leaks into the slit of my eyes and the smell of chemicals stir me from my sleep. I open my heavy eyelids and prop myself up as more of my vision begins to return. “Where am I?” I question, striking pain flowing throughout my whole body. Pathetic. I can barely breathe without feeling like my lungs are about to collapse on themselves.

“You���re in my medical office.” Luke answers, “Hana’s being treated in the hospital. I knew you wouldn’t want to be held there and risk the public, catching wind of the situation, so I took the initiative of tending to you myself, here, in private.”

I’m thankful that Luke understands me so well, even during our boarding school days, he always seemed aloof, but could read everyone like a book.

“You have 3 broken ribs and about 4 fractures. I’m surprised you’re not completely paralysed, let alone able to move as you are.”

“Hmph, as if a few broken bones could stop me,” I banter, not sure if I believe myself.

“Just take it easy. I would advise bedrest for a couple of weeks at minimum, but you have a tendency of not listening, so I’ll leave you with some painkillers instead.”

“Thanks Luke,” I chuckle.

I make my way to the Hana’s hospital room with great effort, no thanks to my injuries, to make sure she is truly okay. The doctors inform me of her condition and the fact that she wasn’t defiled by those vile creatures. Thank God.

She looks beautiful. Despite the cuts and bruises that stain her fair skin, she still exudes an ethereal glow that draws my hand to her cheeks. Stunning. The slight flutter of her lashes that follows my soft caress, brings a smile to my face, one so unlike me, and one that is soon replaced by a frown.

I did this to her. I hurt her. I brought her into this life of suffering. I destroyed her.

I’m disgusted by my hand upon her pure form, “I need to fix this.”

Hana has returned to the penthouse after a long and lonely week. I’ve been tracking down Keiji and his father, who annoyingly escaped from prison, to make sure they can never go after her again. I haven’t had the chance to see her yet, and it pains me to send her to the guest room instead of our shared bedroom, but I couldn’t risk letting her seeing the papers flooding my bed about the very people who put her through hell. The countless weeks of sleepless nights feel extra difficult to conquer without her coffee and presence, but I need to do this to keep her safe. That is my sole motivation.

The next morning seems brighter than usual and my heavily beaten body feels lighter, knowing justice would be served today. I found the two troublemakers and sent Soryu to retrieve them. Selling them at our next auction would surely teach them the consequences of angering me. Feeling fulfilled knowing this whole mess was finally over, was naive of me and couldn’t prepare me for what was coming next.

I prepare to get up to finally see the woman I love, before the door swings open and, there in front of me, appears the said woman. Why? Why does she look so livid?

With tears streaming down her flushed cheeks; soaking into the carpet, eyes once innocent, clear and kind, now filled to the brim with rage, lifelessness and sadness. She spits words of venom at me louder than she has ever sounded. “Go to hell, Eisuke!” was all I could comprehend in her outburst before she leaves like a passing storm. I squeeze my eyes shut in reflection and my heart follows. Squeezing and squeezing, so tight my breathing hitches and I feel suffocated by, what I tell myself is, the pain of my injuries.

An uncharacteristic tear forms and rolls down my face. I was supposed to fix all of this, but again, I couldn’t even be there to comfort her when she needed me most. I’m a rotten bastard. She’s right, I should just go straight to hell, where I belong. But I can’t, “I can’t go to hell,” I whisper with a wry smile and a tear-stained cheek,

“I can’t, because you’re not there…”

“Thats a strange favour for you to ask of me. I guess trying to understand you and your antics was my mistake but—“

“She deserves better than me. I need you to protect her. With you and the Ice Dragons around her, I can rest, assured, nothing like this can ever happen again.”

“You really love her don’t you?”

“More than anything, but I need to preserve the light in her eyes. It dulled a little after what happened, but should it darken anymore… I don’t know if i could live with myself.”

A long silence ensues as Soryu carefully analyses my depressed form, never seeing me so vulnerable in the many years we’ve known each other; as a partner and a friend.

“Fine, I’ll keep her with me but, I’ll kick your ass if you think you can just drown in your sorrows and revel in pain just because she’s not around.”

I throw him a quick, thankful glance, but it’s easier said than done. She was my whole life, and without her, guiding me to the light, I don’t know if I can find my way out of this dark abyss.

You may be done with me, but my heart will always beat here, for you.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

SO BLESSED and thankful to have rp with hobo4lyfe11 , driving our best to complete this story and we look forward to our next fic, hope you’re too!

[zodiac-enthusiasts]

Capricorn Woman Personality Behavior Her Typical Character The difficulty of being understood by others, makes it difficult to understand the true essence of Capricorn woman's behavior that tends to be for most an enigmatic and complex person despite the excellent quality of personal reliability. The excellent centralizer of virtues and dreams of sentiment and maternity confined to the family universe, the company is the highlight, the public life, the stand out in the evolution personal without quantifying too much the values related to the affections or to their own personal microcosm. She can’t be blamed for an excess of rigidity for taking things too seriously. Not to act excessively consciously. The spring willingness of the first Sign of the Earth, the Taurus, filtered through the careful accounting of the Virgo comes to a definitive status of privacy, tranquility, a habit of continuous maturation of thought. Capricorn Woman Behavior The lady of Capricorn feels a great love for solitude, isolation, especially interior, which she can also realize in the midst of a real crowd. There is a fundamentally a serious, detached, conscious attitude towards her life. Knowing how to wait a long time before reaching a goal that was sometimes established during childhood, puts her away from disappointments due to decisions made with excessive precipitation. She knows how to manage the relationship with a man in a perfectly equal, respected and well-liked way, esteemed for the essentiality of his mental. Capricorn woman knows how to achieve ambivalent results. She has the ability to maintain her goals going on over time. Is firm in decision making She does not agree with nonsense ideas Hates it when emotionally annoyed Home is her castle Will mainly decide what furniture to buy Her house must always be clean and hygienic The Way Of Living Her Life Capricorn woman is very patient and calm. Usually, she is quiet when she finds herself amongst unknown people. Capricorn woman is kind all around and rarely take charge without an important reason. If she is disturbed, then she will get emotionally charged to protect herself. She tries to keep things in balance and often is seen to make sacrifices for their loved one especially if she has a family of her own. Capricorn woman tends to live her life with high morale and relentless efforts to achieve her goals no matter the challenge. Capricorn woman is stubborn same as Capricorn man. She will fight to reach more senior roles in society or work. Determination will be her tool to push forth and will ignore the limits of getting what she wants to be. No stepping back if she has set her mind to a specific target. Taking Life Seriously Capricorn woman is destined to undertake long roads, crowned by successes sometimes difficult by those who do not fully comprehend the inner resources, which are characterized by the particular element of beautiful presence. Capricorn is a feminine sign, expressed in its representatives the greatest refinements, provident minds. She’s capable of great actions, in both areas of life; family and at work. Pride characterizes her, not so much as exhibitionism or misinterpreted sense of her value, but as a serious judgment towards others, which stems from a very precise innerspring. In fact, she is very strict with herself and tends to consequently also demand from others justice, loyalty, attention, which is part of her behavior. Fights for deserved rights Aims to reach higher in everything Likes simplicity than modern Behaves with proper manner in public Chooses carefully the way she dresses Wants her ideas to be heard Expects people to be loya; Nostalgic For The Past The sense of time teaches her the ability to keep things at home, to know how to make the most of them, after choices that are more often than not essential, but of excellent taste. There is a sense of the past in her. She shows respect for her grandparents, great-grandparents. She knows how to save things of the past, the bobbin curtain, and the small anonymous piece of furniture, in sobriety that can only be praiseworthy. The most evident meaning of Capricorn's woman stereotype is expressed through the will. Clearly not already obtained through the well-known stubbornness, but considered as the objective of discipline and personal self-control. At the bottom of her soul, there remains a slow but constant melancholic detachment from everyday things. Hence she represents the other pole of the significant initiatives undertaken and perhaps this is the secret of her success. Not To Underestimate Her Inner Power Regardless of her body size, Capricorn woman seems to be energetic. She has a significant power hidden inside her. This is an opinion, and as always it should not be generalized, but in general, the Capricorn Woman is young and vulnerable. Capricorn Woman pursues the goals of independence and accomplishment. Practically most of the time she manages to give a significant image of herself, for her inner order personality, which she knows how to convey with skills to the tasks. Naturally, she is mostly private and confidentiality. Her ideas mature with calm, reflection, in time, in the silence of a dialogue with others that is often very thin and can give a false impression. Physical Appearance Capricorn woman slowly acquires the instruments of her beauty, the weapons of seduction. She remains a child and then a young girl for a long time. Also because she is usually small, she often has the image of a younger girl than then of a real woman. She’s not very tall. She’s thin in the frame just like Capricorn man does. Despite being relatively small, she tends to have beautiful and pretty lips which are soft and beautifully shaped. Typical Capricorn woman usually has got a long pointed nose. Her eyes are of bright color somewhere between blue and green or both. Capricorn woman also has distinguishing cheekbones. Typical Capricorn woman tends to have a serious look when first met, but once you get to know her better, she will be more open and will smile more often.

[ageofindigox]

BASIC INFO

LEGAL NAME: Trenton Cole Goode

ALIASES: Trent Goode

NICKNAMES: Goodie, Ross (added as given)

DOB/AGE: November 11, 1989 / 27

HOMETOWN: Boston, Massachusetts 

INFLUENTIAL AREA(S): Mesa, Arizona & Marseille France

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Brooklyn, New York

LIVING ARRANGEMENT: Inhibits a studio apartment with an open floor plan, perfect for his creative pastimes. The home is suited for one person with little additional space for company aside from what is necessary for his daughter and canine companion. 

RELIGION: Trent does not identify with any religion whatsoever nor has he ever. He also does not believe in luck. .

EDUCATION: Trent is an intelligent man with a passion for learning; however, the traditional classroom setting made his academic career difficult. He merely graduated in 2008 from Fenway High School and took several miscellaneous courses at Columbia University from 2012-2015.

OCCUPATION(S): The neighborhood butchery, The Meat Hook, being that he is the lead butcher his responsibilities are vast. He also has some involvement in the black market.

EXPERTISE: Manipulation

BRIEF BIO: The first four years of his life consisted of significant abuse suffered at the hands of his bitter, recently widowed mother. The Boston law enforcement was assigned to the case. The lead officer formed an immediate bond with Trent, relinquishing the career he loved in order to adopt the dysfunctional child. He hesitantly learned to trust again relying heavily on two imaginary friends to guide him. Therapy was nonnegotiable due to the trauma he endured and underdeveloped social skills. His mental illness (see below) was discovered at age ten and speculations were proved true - his imaginary friends were two alternate personalities. The extensive therapy, the medications it was all very expensive for the lower middle class family of four. Acutely aware that the struggles plaguing his family were a direct result of the kindness they had shown him guilt was a heavy burden. Desperate to free them of poverty he resorted to his roots and became involved with drugs. What began as a last ditch effort transpired into a way of life. Within that same year, he was recruited at a skateboarding competition and later offered his first sponsor with Vans. School mattered little with fame beckoning him. Life on the road was a never ending party with his passion at the center of it all. Money was no longer an issue, he had no need to hustle any longer and yet he persisted. Curiosity mocked him until he experimented with the narcotics he once sold to pay his parents’ rent. He developed an infatuation with skating, drugs, and the idea of love which caused him to not only lose his opportunity at success but serve an eighteen month jail sentence as well. Released at twenty-two life became a living hell. Alone, lacking proper medication, and with limited resources available he was forced to make a come up by whatever means necessary. He found quick work at the local butcher shop, somewhere that did not require sociability, and slowly began to rebuild.

CRIMINAL RECORD: Lengthy criminal record including possession with intent to distribute, aggravated assault, resisting arrest, and disorderly conduct.

BLOODLINE + INFLUENTIAL PEOPLE

FATHER: Reece Goode NPC

Adoptive A great father and all around good man, he taught Trent to trust again with patience and kindness.

MOTHER: Amy Goode NPC

Adoptive The ideal mother, overbearingly optimistic she gave Trent no choice but to love her... eventually.

SIBLING(S): Aubrey Goode NPC

Adoptive, Conceived shortly after his adoption was officiated Trent initially did not want to share his parents or his life with an ugly, loud alien looking thing. He plotted her death several times and once smothered her face with a pillow until her breathing ceased but Troy wouldn’t allow him to follow through with it. Gentle coaxing from Reece helped him come to accept his baby sister. He became very protective of Aubs lashing out (particularly at Amy) on the few occasions she was treated harshly due to the trauma inflicted by his own biological mother, making it difficult for the parents to discipline their youngest at all. She was the first person to interact with all of his personalities, treating each as their own person rather than a figment of his imagination, and one of very few people who are able to help when he loses himself in the midst of chaos. She understands him as best she can. She does not shy away from the truth when it comes to her brother often exposing the reality of many situations that no one else will. Altercations are frequent though rarely marked by long periods of absence because these two genuinely care for one another. Icy as they come, at his core he is a family man with a soft spot for his little sister.    

DAUGHTER: Genevieve Loren Goode NPC

Biological The child Trent never wanted but was forced to accept. Her existence was life altering for the unstable man perpetually sealing his fate with her mother, Elouise. A bold, fearless child Gene inherited all of their darkest qualities. An absolute terror with an extremely short fuse his daughter can push the boundaries of his sanity with her rage induced tantrums. There were many occasions he fantasized about killing his child with his own hands by thrusting her head into the nearest wall or simply strangulation. She finds amusement in testing her limits with her father, often making him question himself again due to his haphazard relationship with his biological mother, and when she does not get her way Elouise is thrust in the middle of their crossfire forced to chose between the two. In doing so a winner is silently declared among them which is usually Gene. When these two aren’t in the midst of a power struggle they have a wonderful relationship. Fatherhood did not come naturally for Trent, it has has been a learning experience and throughout he has learned to love his daughter for the nightmare she is.

PSYCHOLOGICAL INFO

MENTAL DIAGNOSIS: Trent suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder previously known as multiple personality disorder.

DESCRIPTION OF DIAGNOSIS: Dissociative Identity Disorder is caused by severe trauma during early childhood which includes extreme physical, sexual, or emotional abuse. The disorder is characterized by the presence of two or more distinct or split identities or personality states that continually have power over the person’s behavior. The dissociative aspect is thought to be a coping mechanism — the person literally dissociates himself from a situation or experience that’s too violent, traumatic, or painful to assimilate with his conscious self.

SYMPTOMS: Symptoms include but are not limited to inability to recall key personal information, distinct memory variations, extreme headaches, amnesia, depression, suicidal tendencies, sleep disorders, auditory/visual hallucinations, eating disorders, loss of time, trances. More crucial symptoms include self-persecution, self-sabotage, and acts of violence.

SMOKES/DRINKS/DRUGS: Tobacco use is fervently frowned upon due to his once athletic lifestyle. A social drinker, lack of inhibitions make him a fun addition to most parties. Favors opioids and depressants.

CHOICE SUBSTANCES: Drugs did not pose an issue until later in life. Heroin became his favorite mistress and he struggled with an addiction that caused him to lose sight of himself. He is recovering but struggles daily.

NOTABLE STRUGGLE(S): Swift elevations in mood from ecstatic to depression, uncontrollable anger, violence

BENEATH THE SURFACE

PERSONALITY: Described as the type of person society either loves or loves to hate, he couldn’t give a fuck less in either respect – in fact, he’s likely to laugh at how wrong the assumptions are. The warmth he exudes in the workplace seldom transcends into his personal life. Most are fooled by the narcissist’s pseudo kindness and have a difficult time believing he does, in fact, have a disorder until they witness a violent outburst for themselves. Anyone who gets to know him beyond a surface level is no stranger to his sinister personality. His issues (specifically with attachment) and insecurities interfere with his ability to lead what society deems a normal life. Temperamental, vulnerable, and susceptible to pain he tends to behave irrationally. The smallest forms of betrayal are magnified although rarely addressed. He has difficulty expressing his feelings properly, particularly positive ones, and will become hostile when pressed to do unless manipulated by venomous rage or, worse, Trevor. When his wrongdoings are made apparent or he feels overwhelmed he chooses to ‘ghost’ from those closest to him rather than confront the issues. Contradictory to his solitary nature he will search endlessly for someone to love him through his mania in spite of being told he is undeserving of love by both his mother and reminded frequently by Trevor. His lack of sanity is an everyday battle he is forced to cope with making life alongside this bastard unpredictable and interesting.

ADDITIONAL PERSONALITIES: Everyday an eternal war to come alive takes place between his secondary personalities – namely Trevor and Troy. Trevor is described as aloof, arrogant, calculated, cruel, destructive, manipulative, resentful, sadistic, unstable, and vindictive who is responsible for violent crimes and bloodlust. Troy, on the other hand, is the complete opposite described as accessible, appreciative, cheerful, compassionate, dramatic, generous, honest, expressive, kind, and overbearing who values friendships/relationships.

ZODIAC SIGN: Scorpio

Those born under this zodiac are natural born leaders due to their ambition and determination. They are independent and, unlike the majority of the zodiac, are not social butterflies preferring solitude. Both friendships and relationships alike are destined to be complicated by emotional extremes. Possessive and easily jealous these individuals are notorious for holding a grudge. They do not forget, rarely forgive, and will seek vengeance on those who wrong them; however, they will always remember a kind gesture as well. These individuals harbor the ability to be the most loyal friend anyone has known and will earn one’s trust. Be honest and respectful and one cannot go wrong. Scorpios must be in control or else they feel threatened and can become unpredictable. They are excellent at restoring chaotic situations yet equally as skilled in manipulating a situation their own greed and benefit. Keywords: passionate, resilient, resourceful, dynamic, observant, jealous, obsessive, suspicious, manipulative, unyielding.

PERSONALITY TYPE: ENTJ – The Commander characterized by bold, imaginative and strong-willed leaders, always finding a way or making one.

FAVORITE QUOTE: “A painter should begin every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light.” – Leonardo da Vinci

FONDEST MEMORY: Indulge in a conversation to uncover a few.

SECRET(S): Granted the gift of eternal life, he will never know death or old age. 

FEAR(S): Knowing that he cannot die by his own hand and is no longer in control of his mortality is something that he loathes; Trent’s biggest fear is living... forever.

RELATIONSHIPS

SEXUALITY: Heterosexual

MARTIAL STATUS: Trent will likely remain single as his affections are fleeting and often unreciprocated  when someone does capture his interest.

PAST RELATIONSHIP(S): A combination of personal issues has led to a lifetime of doing as he pleases, with who he pleases at his leisure hurting female companions before a relationship has the opportunity to evolve; however, when involved romantically he is often overbearing displaying many telltale signs of codependency.

ROMANTIC INVOLVEMENTS: Include a notorious, stringent involvement with Mica Devilas throughout his young adult years followed by a dynamic relationship with Elouise Beckett. Both relations could be summarized as radical, intense, and severe with moderate levels of abuse which further scarred the mentally ill male obscuring his view of love.

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Author’s Note: The format of this outline was designed by myself alone a few years prior and subject to change at my discretion. Should anyone find themselves interested in Trent simply message me. I ENJOY coming together with other writers to create. As someone who puts a tremendous amount of time and effort into character development connecting with other writers is a vital aspect of writing for a character contentiously (in my opinion). I cannot stress enough that I am always willing to collaborate.  

Forewarning: A romantic relationship will not be considered without continuous storyline development. I edit all connections as I see fit. I refuse to acknowledge empty relations that are not developed through continuous writing. This is especially true in regards to potential romantic relationships. I will notify any writer so that adjustments can be made before completely eliminating a connection or, if substantial to his growth/SL, replacing with a NPC.  I am 195% understanding of real life issues but I only know the information provided at said writers’ discretion. Connections take communication, patience, and effort - I am willing to give those things if given in return. If you do not have intentions on WRITING in multi para style (novella likely) please do not waste my time.  

*Above statements are not intended to be malicious and/or offend anyone. All information has been provided in hopes of avoiding future conflict.*

Last Updated: 09/23/2017

[psychosocialsausage]

a bit about my astrology

Rising Sign is in 10 Degrees Virgo You tend to be very shy and not very self-assertive. You are supercritical about how you appear to others. Even though you may think you are uninteresting and dull, you are actually quite soft- spoken, orderly, neat and very likable. You are a perfectionist with high standards, and at times you can be quite tactless in pointing out the faults of others. Very practical, efficient and purposeful, your appearance and bearing reflect your need to appear graceful, sensible and reserved. You have a crisp, no-nonsense approach to dealing with others. Never lazy or self-indulgent, you tend to be dedicated to the work ethic.

Sun is in 01 Degrees Cancer. Very emotional and sensitive, you have an intuitive understanding of the “vibes” around you. You tend to be quite generous, giving, loving and caring, but only when your own needs for emotional support, love and security have been met. If they are not met, you tend to withdraw into yourself and become very insecure and selfish. Your home and family (especially your mother or the person who played that role for you early on) represent security for you and thus assume a larger-than-life importance. Very sentimental, you have vivid and long- enduring memories of the past. No matter how well adjusted you are, you will always need a secret quiet place of your own in order to feel at peace. Feeding others can give you great pleasure you would enjoy being part of a large family.

Moon is in 03 Degrees Pisces. You have strong feelings and are extremely sensitive. It would help if you had a thicker skin – you tend to react emotionally to every situation you come across. Kind, gentle and considerate of the feelings of others, you are good at taking care of the sick, wounded and helpless. But you tend to absorb the energy of others – so avoid those who are always negative. You have a rich, creative and lively imagination, but you should be careful not to spend all your time daydreaming. Very intuitive, you have good ESP and may be quite clairvoyant or psychic. Remember that you too have the right to get what you want from life. If you are always defensive and kowtowing to others, people will take advantage of you and exploit you.

Mercury is in 19 Degrees Cancer. Your emotions tend to rule your thought processes. You have difficulty seeing life objectively. You have an excellent memory, especially about things to which you have formed an emotional bond. You prefer ideas and thoughts that are known and familiar, and therefore tend to dislike fads or radical ideas. The beliefs and traditions of your family and culture are very important to you. Your thinking becomes quite unclear when you are emotionally shaken – try not to make major decisions when you are upset. Let things calm down first.

Venus is in 04 Degrees Cancer. You like to be very close to other people. You need emotional support yourself and are willing to give it to others. When you feel unloved and insecure, you can be very jealous and possessive. You are not interested in casual or superficial relationships – only deep emotional involvements interest you. Your faithful devotion is one of your greatest gifts, but be careful not to become too dependent on others. Learn to stand on your own two feet and demand your own rights once in a while.

Mars is in 04 Degrees Cancer. Your moods are very important to your overall well-being. You are confident and self-assertive when you are feeling upbeat, and you are retiring, irritable and grumpy when you get depressed about anything. Very sensitive, you wear your heart on your sleeve. You are easily angered whenever you think someone has slighted you. It is best for you to show your anger immediately and let it all out, rather than to try to hold it in or to hold grudges for a long time. You’re extremely loyal and defensive of your family, neighborhood, community and culture.

Jupiter is in 28 Degrees Taurus. Growth only occurs for you after you have found a stable lifestyle and a dependable, protective and secure environment. You are at your best when those around you provide you with a great deal of affection and support. When you feel insecure or threatened, you tend to become possessive and grasping and self- indulgent. You are an inveterate collector with an expensive preference for all the good things that life has to offer.

Saturn is in 25 Degrees Taurus. Complete freedom of choice makes you ill at ease. You must have a firm, ordered, secure foundation in your life in order to feel comfortable. You do not adapt easily and tend to fear the new and untried. You constantly fear that you do not have enough (love, property, material things, etc.) and this makes you tend toward being selfish, withdrawn and stingy. If you try to surround yourself with supportive people in your environment, you will become more emotionally self-supporting.

Uranus is in 20 Degrees Aquarius. You, and most of your peer group as well, are reformers at heart. You want to make positive changes that will benefit society as a whole. You are willing to devote your time and energy to see that they come about, especially if the proper group support and combined purpose of will can be found. Be careful that your devotion to group goals does not produce too much friction or neglect in your own interpersonal one-on-one relationships.

Neptune is in 06 Degrees Aquarius. You, and your entire generation, will idealize and even venerate the ability to remain detached as well as the ability to objectively analyze any given situation. There will be a concerted effort on your part to cure the ills of society as a whole. But be very careful to continue to maintain and protect the rights of individuals in the midst of these potentially far-reaching changes.

Pluto is in 10 Degrees Sagittarius. For your entire generation, society’s cherished beliefs and totems will be radically changed. Many traditional concepts will be totally altered, if not completely destroyed. The rights of individuals to pursue their own course in life will be reasserted.

N. Node is in 24 Degrees Cancer. You genuinely enjoy meeting other people, but you’re at your best if you can do so from the comfort of your own home. You prefer others to come to you and tend to feel uncomfortable about leaving your home or neighborhood for any extended period of time. Those who do come in contact with you are struck by your caring and obliging nature – you really make them feel at home. You form the closest ties, however, with members of your immediate family, especially your parents and children. You’re at your best attending or organizing family reunions!