#but time is merely an illusion and i am just trying to keep my head above water in the midst of family drama 😅

[hisbutleronhiatus]

It has been 198 days since the Kuroshitsuji hiatus was announced.

Last evening, O!Ciel and Finny were determined to stay up until midnight to greet the coming year! After Sebastian helped the young master change into his nightshirt, put him to bed, and departed to prepare for the morrow, the gardener snuck into O!Ciel’s room so that the boys could while away the hours together, thus preventing each other from falling asleep. Of course, the demon swiftly divined their intentions and returned posthaste…but, instead of escorting Finny back to the servants’ quarters and upbraiding the pair for their lack of regard for proper sleep hygiene, she opted for a strategic approach. She agreed that if they could keep awake while she read them the entirety of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, O!Ciel and Finnian would be allowed—just this once—to eschew their usual bedtime schedule and celebrate when the clock struck twelve. Thrilled (if, on O!Ciel’s part, a trifle suspicious) at having persuaded their guardian to see reason, the lads assumed they’d have no trouble upholding their end of the bargain. But as the demon’s mellifluous voice grew softer…and their eyelids began to droop…and the soporific warmth of the thick blankets under which they snuggled caused their resolve to waver…

Gardener and earl were cuddling in the midst of a tranquil snooze ere Alice had met the Caterpillar. Sebastian smiled as she gently closed the book and gave each child a kiss on the forehead, murmuring, “The wish may be a few hours premature, but Happy New Year, little ones.”

[imaginationmess]

Vampire Hcs (Micheal Kaiser, Yoichi Isagi, Reo Mikage, Seishiro Nagi)

Word Count: 2.6k+

Thank you to @akaza-s-bitch, Maddy for proofreading this giant mess of headcanons. 

Disclaimer: There are different conversions, venom, and blood in their system. 

Vampire!Michael Kaiser 

Once upon a time, Michael was held captive but was given the option of becoming a vampire. He took the offer because there was nothing that would’ve held him back. He wanted to be powerful instead of being weak. However, he does despise being ordered around. 

There was a period of time when he and Isagi hunted together, which was when they were freshly turned into vampires by the same person. Both came to an agreement to eliminate their creator for different reasons. Their creator wouldn’t have expected him to backstab them because he was loyal and respectful, unlike Isagi. 

“I am my own master.” 

He does enjoy being a monster because no one can order him around. He feels powerful and wouldn’t give up this sense of superiority for anything in the world. He is immortal with the exception of supernatural hunter weapons and herbs. He isn’t immune to those by default. He can build up a tolerance to them but they could still kill him. 

Michael is terrifyingly good at luring anyone with his charms and looks alone. He is also the type to play with his food (humans) because he likes to work for it. He likes his prey being terrified because it just makes the reward that much greater and sweeter. To him, the blood of his prey tastes much better when they are terrified. He is very sadistic about it. 

He would roleplay different sorts of people for entertainment. He would sometimes use his victim's identities as an alias. 

He has terrifyingly good senses and purposely acts like a fool. He will think of it as a sort of intense game of cat and mouse. He is also responsible for the deaths of many talented hunters.  

He is one of the scariest vampires to get interested in you. He is a very persistent individual. He wouldn’t give up on trying to make you fall in love with him. 

He also seems to be the type to be into the vampire x hunter romance trope because a hunter knows how to deal with his kind and annihilate him. Kaiser likes living on the edge, it brings a sense of entertainment to his otherwise boring life. It keeps him on his toes and he loves it. And yes he would think it's a love confession if you tried to take his head when you tried to get on his level of seduction. 

When you are in a relationship with him, he would purposely drag his fangs against your skin, preferably your wrist and neck, and other sensitive places in order to watch in amusement when goosebumps appear. He loves seeing you shiver at the sensations that he caused you. 

He can get very handsy and seems to always need to have some sort of connection with you. How else could he protect you from the other creatures walking around in disguise? 

He can be very possessive of and clingy towards his lover. 

He does have the secret wish of finding his match, who would love and join in on his shenanigans. He wants a partner who would get bored just as easily as him to be able to constantly find different ways of entertainment. Someone who would accept and love him for who he is, including his savage self. Someone who will keep him on his toes and can keep up with him. The possibilities of his significant other: his match could be a human, a vampire or a different species. 

Vampire!Yoichi Isagi

Yoichi was held captive and his transformation was most likely a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. He was given the option to turn into a vampire, however, it was merely the illusion of having an option. Ultimately, he was turned into a vampire against his will. 

He hated himself and would starve himself very often. He would have died multiple times if he hadn’t been forced to feed. These events caused him to have pure hatred toward his sire, his creator. This was also the case for the sire, who’d expected Isagi to be nothing more than a coward before them in submission.

Instead, Yoichi became his creator’s demise. He annihilated his creator and it was a bloody mess. It also fed into his reputation among other vampires from the older class to be terrified, but also led them to be intrigued by how this fresh vampire had so viciously committed the act of killing his creator. He devoured his creator, causing him to be stronger than he was before. 

There was a long period of time during which he was completely savage and not didn’t care who he ended up pissing off. Kaiser and he hunted together during their time as newbies. Terrifyingly enough, they balanced each other out perfectly. Eventually, though, they separated from each other. 

He caused himself to become a bounty on his head because he had rapidly climbed up the food chain, purely by accident. It wasn’t intentional on his part. He became worth a lot of money within both the hunter and vampire realms because he had killed humans and vampires alike without any sort of mercy. However, there was a visible behavioral pattern whenever he killed: it wasn’t impulsive killings of random strangers, more like calculated attacks.

He eventually does reflect on the past and has some regrets about when he was in his savage phase. He strives to be better now.

He is also the first one to befriend a hunter, who was a vampire as well: Rin Itoshi. It was an unusual friendship, but they remained close. At the time, Isagi majorly was his informant because he was everywhere and had more connections than the hunter. 

He did develop white highlights through his dark blue hair due to trauma when he was a newbie, ever since then it's been growing like that. He was starting to like the look of his hair. 

It took a long time for Isagi to accept himself as a vampire. It’s part of the reason why Rin and he got along with each other. Isagi could empathize with Rin since it wasn’t his choice to be like this either. 

He often hunts in the woods for food but also makes money because he was the son of a hunter. Nothing goes to waste. It is also how he met Seishiro Nagi. 

He would often visit the company of his friend Reo, who runs a blood bank for the supernatural who need blood to survive. He pays each blood donor, and Isagi just needs to pay a fee to get blood bags. 

Yoichi took a page from Kaiser's book to roleplay as a human out of boredom. It's most likely how he found his lover, through work or the place he frequented most of the time. 

If you are human, he will keep the facade up as long as possible. It’s either he comes out to you when he is ready to further down the line or when he is forced to reveal his vampire side to you in order to keep you safe. 

He is the type to fall in love hard and get protective over you regardless of whether you can take care of yourself or not. You could be a vampire, a demon, or any different species. 

It's worse if you are human though because the constant worry hangs over his head. He has made a lot of enemies throughout his time as a vampire and doesn’t want anything to happen to you. 

He would fall in love with you even more if you saw his vampire self and accepted him for who he is.

If you are a human around a supernatural creature, he may get territorial and overprotective because he knows they are most likely looking for food.

Overall, he is literally like your guard dog, especially if you are a human in a supernatural environment. 

Vampire!Reo Mikage 

Reo comes from a pure bloodline of royal vampires that have lived for many centuries and generations. He is considered a prince to the present day within the vampire realm. He comes from old money and has many estates under his name. He moves around a lot and sometimes uses a fake name. If he ever returns to the same area he has lived in before, he will lie on the spot claiming to be a descendant of the Mikage. 

He has been taught to have good control over his bloodlust. It lessens his chances of losing control and exposing himself. He learns how to blend in with the humans, lowering his chances even further in order to not be on the hunters’ radar. 

In the beginning, he eventually only left the estate because he couldn’t bear with it anymore: He felt suffocated by his family, especially his parents. During this time, he kept wandering from one place to another and eventually met Seishiro Nagi, a farmer. Nagi let him follow him around as long as Reo helped him with his daily chores. Nagi wasn’t treating him like royalty, so he was a fascinating human to Reo, an enigma.

By pure accident, Nagi became his first creation. Nagi was immune to royal vampire compulsion and eventually became stronger than Reo himself. He was intrigued but also scared of what Nagi was capable of. 

They did have a rough patch where Nagi did cut ties with Reo for a bit, but they eventually reunited with mutual friends. The separation did them well. It is now very rare to see the duo being separated, and even if they are, the other is always close by. 

Reo founded a business: a blood bank, which Nagi was the co-owner of. Nagi was the one who came up with the concept and Reo brought it to life. It was a blood bank where supernatural creatures could buy blood bags with no questions asked, as long as they paid the fee. It was a successful business, the company eventually branched out to sell other species' blood in exchange for money. 

It was successful because Reo paid good money for humans to come and donate a bag of blood, even more so if they were a different species. The company staff was mixed, there were both supernatural creatures and humans. Reo paid his workers very well, it was the best place to work at because of the work-life balance it provided in combination with the high salary. 

He would donate human blood to various hospitals to avoid suspicion from his human workers and outsiders. 

He does have professional relationships with other companies that are owned by creatures such as himself. This is the reason why he has the creature secretary separated from the human one because he would like to avoid having fragile humans in the crossfire in case a business deal goes sideways. The human secretary only deals with human-owned companies. 

Overall, Reo is a very wealthy man with many talents. He is the owner of very successful businesses and keeps up with the time of the market. 

Reo has a higher chance of falling in love with one of the workers in one of his own businesses, especially if you have dealt with him and know him personally. He is very aware that he is a piece of work and a high-maintenance individual. You would catch his eye especially when you don’t let him have his way with you, even if he is your boss. He likes someone who isn’t afraid of him and able to hold their own. 

He likes working for your love. If you have feelings for him and don't want to date him because he is your boss, he will offer to get you a spot at Nagi’s video game company, “Hassle”. He will make it work if he is genuinely interested in you, working out the obstacles between the two of you.

He is also one of the scariest vampires to get interested in you. He is a very persistent and determined man, and he wouldn’t give up until you fell in love with him as well. You are going to fall in love with him, one way or another. 

Vampire!Seishiro Nagi 

Seishiro becoming a vampire was by pure accident. Reo fed on him and healed his wounds to avoid suspicion, which is why he had Reo’s blood running through his system when he died. He was a farmer before turning into this creature. 

Seishiro cut him off because Reo was constantly on his back and treating him like an experiment ever since realizing that his compulsion didn’t work on Nagi. He knows that Reo is secretly terrified of him.

Nagi is beyond strong both physically and mentally, so even when he was younger when it came to this life, there were multiple occasions where he had gone head to head with the elderly vampires. What he was lacking was experience, and how to use his skills effectively to their full potential. 

Nagi often stole from humans. It is how he met Yoichi Isagi, a vampire a few years older than him after conversion. Nagi didn’t like working for his food, so he ended up stealing others’ hunts, but that time he didn’t realize it was actually another vampire that was disguising their scent as a human’s. It was surprising for Nagi to see Isagi chasing him and aiming at him with his hunting weapon when Nagi attempted to steal a bear from him.

Seishiro met different people who became his friends in the same forest he had taken a liking to because it was peaceful and there were plenty of animals to hunt for food. Seishiro was good at replicating noises from other species out of boredom. He howled on a full moon night, causing a lone werewolf to appear only for the two to stare at each other in silence. Neither of them was suspecting the other. A vampire howling perfectly like a werewolf. Nagi did have to come to an agreement with an older werewolf, who also lived in the enormous forest, on sharing it. 

He has learned a lot from the different people he has encountered during his time in the forest. Eventually, Reo and he made up. 

Nagi is a co-owner of a blood bank company, along with Reo. He himself created a video game company under the name “Hassle”. He was getting bored with the games that were already out and wanted something harder to beat. He did manage to create the kind of games he wanted and gained a reputation for players like him, who wanted challenging and harder games. Hassle does offer your normal typical game levels, but it does provide the option of buying a harder version, in which it is more complex to beat and finish the game. 

He is also a professional gamer on the side, and often received offers to advertise them. He will be the most honest and blunt person giving his review for an opinion on a game. 

He is most likely to fall in love with a fellow gamer through collaborations, with someone at his job or even working underneath Reo’s company. You have to be someone special that stands out in some way in order to catch Nagi’s eye. 

If you are human dating him, he wouldn’t even try to hide that he was a bloodsucker. He would warn you to not drink from his bottle because there is blood inside. If you didn’t listen, that's your fault. 

Overall, he requires a lot of patience to deal with in order to build and maintain a good relationship with him. 

Thank you for reading!

Comments or Tags are appreciated.

[ebonystarfall]

A Cursed Taunt (pt. 2)

Ink!Peng x Ex-Brotherhood!Reader

Created by: Starlight (Owner 2)

Type of content: Oneshot

Pov: Second

Word count: 1553 (approximately)

TW: Theres gaslighting???? (Maybe??) Ink Peng is a bitch, not beta read, I feel absolutely tired but I want to do this because I feel guilty for not finishing this earlier...btw you almost DIE haha (you gotta be lucky Tang was there)

A/N: Guys I am SO sorry that it's been so long, I swear...I plan to write more when I get the chance, but school seems to have a tendency to place a hit on my creative mind and strike it down from its position at the top of my head and at the bottom of my heart. Btw this also takes part BEFORE Peng and Yellowtusk get out of the scroll. Before Tang finds out that Azure is bad and whatnot, y'know?

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

Even though you and the rest of the gang had managed to escape the ink demons before, you were separated once again, each of you thrown into different moments in these cursed scrolls of memory. You found yourself on Flower Fruit Mountain, a place that felt too familiar. This was the day you and the Brotherhood had gathered to discuss overthrowing the Jade Emperor, a day that had been etched into your mind forever. You had your doubts back then, but you kept them buried, fearing the judgment of those around you.

Peng, your closest friend, had been especially eager that day, their voice loud with conviction. "Azure Lion would be perfect on the throne," they had said, without a hint of hesitation. Their fervor had inspired the others, making the plan feel inevitable, but deep down, you had questioned if this was the right path. Still, you stayed silent, watching as the momentum built around their idea.

You didn’t like this memory much. It felt disorienting to be back in a place you knew wasn’t real. The fruit on the table was an illusion, the laughter and arguments of your former Brothers were mere phantoms, and Peng’s mischievous glances—those glances you’d yearned for throughout centuries of separation—were nothing more than a trick of the scroll.

...it simply was not real. This was just the scroll's doing. It was just something the scroll as doing. The protective curse would be there eventually. the protective curs-

"Y/N!! You're stuck in your thoughts again, wake up!" the familiar voice of Peng was heard, exasperatedly shaking your thoughts back down to the world.

You turned to face them, and you huffed. "Can't I just think for a second?"

Peng, ever the mischief-maker, simply giggled at your exasperation. They nudged you playfully with a grin, their eyes sparkling with amusement as they took another sip from their goblet of wine. "But where's the fun in that?" they teased, leaning closer. "Lighten up, will you? Don’t be such a sorry little rodent like Macaque over here!" They gestured toward Macaque with a mock-serious expression, clearly enjoying their own joke.

You took a second to glance at Macaque, who was shyly sitting next to the past version of Wukong. A scoff escaped your lips. "Don't make fun of him, you feathered oaf."

"Ah, very well then," Peng said with a mischievous glint in their eye. "I have an idea, little bug! How about we take a little time off from this gathering and head up to the mountain peaks? It'll certainly get rowdy soon, and I'd much rather keep my feathers intact." They snickered, glancing back at the chaotic scene unfolding at the table.

The scene was a perfect storm of pettiness and disorder. Wukong was in a heated argument with the Demon Bull King over the potency of their alcohol, while Macaque, though visibly irritated, remained in his seat, trying to ignore the ruckus. Azure Lion was literally dragging Wukong away from the Bull King, as if dealing with a feral cat. As for Yellowtusk, he was nowhere to be seen, and given the state of things, you couldn’t help but think he had made the right choice to leave.

"...fine," you muttered, your voice tinged with resignation. You were still grappling with whether this was a memory or an illusion—this Peng wasn’t real, but their presence felt undeniably genuine. Before you could dwell on it further, Peng took your hand with a playful grin and led you up the mountain peak, their fuchsia eyes shimmering with excitement as they glanced back at you.

"Isn't the view wonderful? Soon enough, we'll have the whole Celestial Realm to look down on! Isn't that...fun?"

You nodded silently, your thoughts heavy. After a moment, you mumbled, "Hey, Peng?"

"Yes, dear?" Peng responded, their voice warm and attentive.

"Is it wrong to feel attached to people who probably hate me now? Why do you think I feel that way?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Peng paused, as if considering your question carefully. Then, a mischievous smile spread across their face. "Because you're an idiot," they said simply.

You froze in surprise as Peng’s image began to dissolve, shifting into dark, feathery pieces of ink and energy. The curse of the scroll was catching up to you sooner than expected.

"A foolish, stupid little idiot," a new voice echoed with a sinister tone. "Hello there, little bug. It seems I’ve finally caught you once more."

—

You stared at the ink version of your former friend, then took a second to glance at the scenery. The warm lantern hanging on the nearby tree disappeared, leaving only a teal blue and inky black background. The bird demon scoffed, pointing their Ji at you, manifesting it from some ink splatters on the ground.

"It was such a bore trying to locate you, then that scholar, those demons, and that horse dragon girl...irritating, all of it. Luckily for them, I'm going to take my time on you first."

"Stop confusing me! You're not the real Peng, you're just a curse pretending to be them for some pity! Stop it, damn it!" You had yelled, taking a step back.

The inky bird demon clearly didn’t take kindly to your outburst. They surged toward you with alarming speed, their talons swiping dangerously close to your sides. A sinister cackle escaped them, and their teal-glowing eyes rolled with a mockingly feigned innocence.

"I have no idea what you mean by that," the demon crooned, their voice dripping with false sweetness. "Why would you say something like that? Do you not trust me, Y/N? All we've done together, all that we’ve…" They leaned in closer, their warm breath brushing against your neck—a stark contrast to the chill of their appearance. Peng had never been this warm, and a shiver raced down your spine as they continued, "…experienced together…"

You could feel strange droplets falling onto your shoulders, and despite yourself, you remained frozen in place. Tiny, warm ink droplets trickled from the demon's body, a bizarre reminder of their unsettling proximity. Ink Peng's form leaned even closer, their voice a whisper in your ear.

"Doesn't this feel real to you, little bug?" they taunted, their tone laced with a twisted satisfaction.

You remained silent, the sensation of warm ink enveloping you in its twisted embrace making you shudder. The texture was unsettling, reminiscent of lukewarm oil—slick and unnervingly smooth.

"My, my, so quiet now. How sad," the ink demon tutted, their voice laced with mock sympathy. They nuzzled you with their strange, inky feathers, the touch both alien and intimate, as if trying to draw out a reaction from you.

"Don't… don't pretend to be them," you said, your voice trembling. "You will never be half of my old friend, ever. No matter how many times you look through these memories, you will never compare to—"

You tried to continue, but your breath caught as you felt the blade of the Ji pressing against your throat. The inky metal was almost imperceptibly sharp, just barely piercing your skin. The sting was sharp and immediate, and a tiny droplet of blood began to trickle down from your neck.

"What was that?" the ink demon's voice was tauntingly smooth. "Seems like you're a bit preoccupied with something." Their tone was a cruel mix of amusement and menace, making the situation all the more terrifying.

You gasped as the ink demon applied a bit more pressure to the blade, the sting intensifying as it sliced through your skin. The warmth of your own blood mingled with the cold, inky metal, and for a moment, it seemed as if the end might be near. Your heart raced, and a sharp pain shot through your neck, threatening to suffocate you.

Just as the pain became unbearable, a flash of golden light erupted in the chaos. Tang, the scholar who simply LOVED learning about the legends, appeared out of nowhere with his golden magic staff. His face was pale with fear, but his eyes were locked on you with intense relief. “ACK- hold on, Y/N, I don't know how to work this thing!” he cried out, his voice trembling. The staff emitted a blinding glow as he desperately swung it, catching Ink Peng off guard. In the split second of distraction, Tang’s magic teleported you away from the blade’s edge.

The protective curse around the scroll flared up, irate at the sudden disruption. Ink Peng’s form wavered with irritation as they glared at the spot where you had vanished. Their frustration was palpable, their dark ink swirling with heightened agitation.

—

In the new location within the scroll, Tang's panicked voice broke through the haze. “Y/N, are you okay?! You look hurt, I can find something to help...”

He reached out, his hands trembling as he tried to assess your condition. But you remained unresponsive, your mind still spinning from the encounter. Thoughts of Peng and the near-death experience clouded your thoughts, making it difficult to focus on Tang’s concerned face or his desperate attempts to ensure you were alright.

You just felt...numb, to be honest.

[mischiefmaker615]

President’s Theory

Rating: R

Requester: eleniblue 

Summary: an attempt to escape the president

‘’some president! All you have is, what?? 10 men and a small patch of grass to rule!’’ you shouted as your arms began to get sore from the grip two of the men had on each arm.

They were the only ones keeping you from lunging at the bastard who had somehow followed you to your own underground hideout, stormed in and was now having his men ransack the place as Loki- president to be exact- turned from the table he loomed over to pierce his eyes at you.

‘’your flirting could use a bit of work love, but you intrigue me all the same.’’ He smirked as he tossed the stack of papers aside from his hand and stalked towards you.

His pace was dangerously slow and his calm demeanor meant he was in no rush for anything, making your body tense. If he was really in a hurry, you might have been dead already or tortured from.. whatever it is that he wanted; he still hasn’t answered any of your questions since he got here, making your patience run thin as you glared at him.

‘’are you finally going to tell me what the hell you want here??’’

Loki merely laughed, tilting his head back in doing so that made the horns on his helmet point straight up, almost giving the illusion that they were coming straight out of his skull if it hadn’t been the color of gold before his blue orbs shot through your own. ‘’now why waste my time doing that when you most likely wouldn’t tell me? It’s much easier just to look for it.’’

‘’could you do it without trashing the place?’’ you hiss, rage piercing through you as your eyes glanced at the men to the side that merely tossed aside this and that. ‘’whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it here.’’

‘’and how is it that you know what I’m trying to find dear one?’’ he purred, his pace stopping just in front of you where your shoes barely touched his own. His gaze began to undress you alone, making you want to squirm and for some reason, shut your legs as you tilted your head up slightly to look at him.

‘’you would have found it already by the mess you’ve made.’’

‘’it seems you’ve been here for quite awhile considering how valued this place of yours is, which means you should be able to tell me if you’ve encountered others in this place, this.. realm of some sort.’’ He wasn’t so much asking as he was ordering, and your eyes looked at him carefully as his men gripped your arms tighter as soon as they felt you tense.

‘’anyone else trapped in this place probably has died already from-‘’

‘’not if you’ve shown them shelter.’’ He cut your words short and you remained silent, giving him the reaction he was looking for that earned you another smirk from him. ‘’that’s what I thought darling. You see,’’ he started and began pacing in circles around you, his eyes eyeing you hungrily as his men kept you still. ‘’we found you- at a distance of course. You were with a group of Loki’s, from what we could make out. By the time we caught up to you, they were gone and you were hurrying yourself back to this place.’’ His pace stopped right in front of you and he leaned down, his horns framing your face as you glared back into his eyes stubbornly.

‘’which makes me come to the theory that you must have led them to shelter before you returned back to your own here.’’

‘’..that’s some theory.’’ You said dryly and he rose a hand to grip your jaw, silencing you.

‘’and considering how long my men are taking on trying to find any evidence on navigating this place- whether to other people or even other places, my guess is that the ‘map’ must. Be. You.’’

Your body remained still, doing your best not to react to show him any sign that he was right, but the way his eyes stared into yours, those gorgeous blue orbs that almost seems to make you want to spill your guts willingly, made you look away and that’s then you knew, he had you.

‘’I am correct then.’’ He smirked and straightened, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes, his body relaxing as his men seemed to slow what they were doing once they knew they didn’t have to search anymore. ‘’oh my dear, you must have been here for a very long time to have memorized a place like this.. to know where to hide, when to hide and perhaps.. maybe some hints on escaping here?’’

Your eyes returned to his in a glare. ‘’fuck you-‘’

Your words were cut short with a hand to your throat, your body struggling for breath as his eyes merely looked at you in a calm demeanor. ‘’quite the offer darling,’’ his eyes moved to his men and he nodded his head to the side. ‘’leave us.’’

By the other, his men let you go- not giving you an opportunity to escape anyway with a hand at your neck, and followed the others where they left outside and closed the hatch; leaving you both alone. Yet even by their absence, Loki’s hand still kept you in his grip, only giving you enough air to breath but not enough to fully speak.

‘’even if there are merely hints of escaping, it could be enough where perhaps we both could figure out how to escape this place.. and my leadership can spread forth. Id even be willing to promise a fair position for yourself for your help.’’ He smiled and looked far off thoughtfully, ignoring your clawing at his wrist. ‘’finding the others is useless now, you are much more valuable with far more information than all those variant duplicates put together. Hell- I don’t even need any of those men outside at this rate, you’ve helped me immensely already and all I had to do what find you. It’s a shame you’ve made this all so easy too’’ he mocked and finally released your neck, making you stumble back as you took in generous amounts of air before looking at him.

‘’and what makes you think I’m going to help you-‘’

‘’I can make death much more painful than that creature out there love.’’ He smirked, his threat solid and terrifyingly calm as he took a step towards you and placed a hand under your chin, making you flinch as if he would have grabbed your neck again but to your surprise, his eyes were almost.. loving.

‘’oh darling.. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to find you as a woman..’’

His words were enough to finally show your fear, hoping he didn’t mean what he sounded like he was saying as your body tensed once again but didn’t dare move. There had to be a way to get away from this sick bastard and your mind ran fast for any ideas. Loki however seemed to get off on the fear you bestowed as his hand slowly caressed your neck to your collarbone, moving his body closer to yours as he moved both hands to your hips, thumbs rubbing in slow circles.

Your eyes did their best to remain on his, trying to rid of any expression as your brain reminded you that there was a hidden dagger just by the headboard of your bed. If you could get there, you could at least wound him enough to get away, as well as fend off the others just outside the shelter door before you would make your escape. The thing is, you’d have to do something you didn’t exactly want to do and killing someone sounded a whole lot easier than what your situation was facing; and with that, you reached a hand up and caressed his cheek.

The sudden action made Loki pause his hands that had just been traveling up your sides so his face could look at yours. His eyes analyzed you for a moment as you turned his look in a lustful gaze and even if there was a small hint of it looking fake, he was cocky enough to just go with it and be strong enough to counter anything you might try to pull- which was something you prayed wouldn’t happen.

You moved your other hand up his chest, gripping his tie as you slowly pulled it from his best before loosening it by his neck, your slender fingers brushing against his skin that made him tilt his chin up ever so slightly. All the while you both never broke eye contact as Loki’s hands moved down your sides, to your waist until they gripped the ends of your shirt. Before your heart beat had a chance to quicken, it was up and off.

The cold temperature hit your skin and your shiver didn’t go unnoticed by Loki who smirked and took the rest of his tie and removed it while his eyed scanned your body that only was covered now by a prayer, your bra and your pants.

‘’ohhh darling, you look absolutely delicious..’’ he purred and reached out, gripping your pants and pulled you towards him where his other hand wrapped around to rest on the small of your back before his lips crashed onto yours.

You nearly jumped by the action, eyes widening as he kissed you with passion, pushing his tongue into your mouth with very little permission before hand before he started to massage your tongue with his. Your hands rested against his chest, your muscles tensing as you stopped yourself from shoving him away, let alone lashing out before you gripped his jacket, pushing it down off his shoulders where he only released you to let it fall to the ground before they gripped your hips again.

It was getting a little hard to breath as you ran your hands through his hair, doing your best to work around his horns as he seemed to want to keep them on by the way he gripped your hips harder whenever you neared them. Yet what you really noticed was the slow growing wetness that appeared between your legs and your stomach seemed to drop.

There was no way in hell you were getting aroused by this man.. this man who ransacked your home, threatened and was holding you hostage! No no- focus.. you decided to skip any of the slow things that would lead up to getting over to the bed, figuring you needed to get over there ‘now’ so you pulled back for air. The space between you both was to much for Loki and he moved his mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin where you almost forgot how to speak for a moment before you squeaked.

‘’b-bed..’’

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he smirked and looked you over with almost a mocking expression. ‘’eager aren’t we my little minx’’

‘’as you can figure out, it’s b-been quite a while,’’ you did your best to flirt back, wanting to keep him playing along as you gripped his shoulders firmly and started walking him backwards towards the bed.

His hands ran across your hips and kneaded your ass, earning an approving moan from his lips as he attacked your neck. A shiver ran down your spine, trying to tell yourself it didn’t feel good as you did your best to hurry him along to get this all over with. Once the back of his knees found the bed behind him, he lowered himself down onto it, his lips kissing down your body before his teeth gripped the middle of your bra and his eyes looked up at you hungry and dangerously.

You looked down at him and gulped, knowing what he wanted as you moved your shaky hands off his shoulders and behind you. The only way you weren’t going to get even close to this damn headboard was just playing along until he scooted back. So with that, you unclasped your bra and it was lost to the side.

A pleasant breath left Loki’s lips as he gazed at your perfect globes before he ran his hands up to cup them and you gasped at his touch. He smirked up at you smugly before he kneaded them both, rubbing and squeezing before a hand moved to your ass and pushed you more forward, your hands at his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall on top of him before he captured one in his mouth.

A gasp left your mouth as his tongue flicked and swirled around your hardening nipple, your fingers gripping onto him as you felt more of a pool between your legs even more so as he switched to your other mound. Your limbs began to ache as you felt his fingers move and unbuttoned your pants, shoving them down before taking hold of your legs to come forward and swaddle him. having not much of a choice, you sat down on his lap, facing him as he pulled you more forward to continue sucking at your breasts.

To your dismay, you shivered in pleasure, your eyes lifting and fluttering as you tried taking in a proper breath in. the way he moaned brought you to the realization that you were even grinding against his bulge, and the mere growing size of it made you even more aware as you glanced down and bit your lip. This couldn’t happen- no no no you needed to get to your-

‘’I know it’s a bit to big darling but I promise I’ll make it happen..’’ he purred and nipped your collar bone, guaranteeing a mark to show up later and your thought fluttered like scattering butterflies as you tried thinking clearly.

Instead, you nodded your head a bit behind him and used your eyes to tell him to scoot up to the headboard. He seemed to smirk and understand but before you could register, he gripped your ass and lifted you, turning you both before he gently tossed you up onto the bed, intending to be the one on top. Despite being tossed onto the mattress, you praised god you landed by the headboard and your heart began to race. You being the one closest rather than both of you made it even better than your original anticipated plan.

Glancing over at him, him drank you in lustfully as he began unbuttoning his vest. You figured his eyes weren’t going to leave you anytime soon so your time to act was now! Flipping over quickly onto your hands and knees, you lunged forward, arm reaching out to where your knife lay wedged in the stone wall before you suddenly felt someone grab your hips and yank you back on the mattress.

‘’don’t think I didn’t see that earlier darling, but we’re still doing this.’’ He growled in your ear as he held you against his chest with a firm hand on your throat to keep you there.

Your hand clawed at his wrist as you began to struggle, your back feeling that he had somehow rid of his vest and his undershirt had been unbuttoned to reveal his bare chest. ‘’fuck you!’’ you yelled and felt him chuckle behind you as he pushed your head down into the mattress by your hair.

‘’with pleasure darling, but I’d currently like to be the one fucking you’’ he smirked, keeping you down as he used his other hand to raise your lower end so you were in a doggy style position. You heard him moan at the mere site of your back arch and heard him unbuckle his belt.

‘’don’t think for one second I’d ever help you in your plans!’’ you threatened, a weak blow and quite useless as you fought hard to think clearly while a hand stayed on your back to keep you down while the other snapped your panties off and tossed them, making your whole body jerk to try to get away but his god strength made it impossible.

‘’maybe, maybe not. But lets focus on one step at a time my dear. But just know, I always get what I want..’’ he purred and you held your breath as you felt the tip of his cock line up with your entrance.

‘’p-please..’’ you begged, squeezing your eyes shut as you shivered and heard him chuckle, his hands gripping your hips now.

‘’with pleasure darling.’’ And with that, slowly in one swift motion, slid himself all the way to the hilt.

You threw your head back and Loki kept a hand on your back to prevent you from raising up as your fingers gripped the sheets. ‘’t-to big!’’ you gasped, your face in pain as you felt him slide back to the tip and a hand reached between your legs, making your eyes open in pure panic and wonder.

‘’I know darling I know, but you take me so well how could I possibly stop now?’’ he cooed and his fingers rubbed and stroked your clit, causing pleasurable shocks through your body, you almost didn’t realize he thrust back into you until you lurched forward.

‘’f-fuck..’’ you couldn’t help but moan, gripping the sheets tighter as he used your clit as a distraction from the pain as he began thrusting into you in a repetitive slow pace.

What was to happen now? Getting fucked by the president of Loki’s with almost zero chance of escaping and later on he’d somehow force you to help him figure out how to get out of this realm? That sounded like the most likely plan without a clear way of figuring out how to get past him and his men without your weapons. Let alone trying to think of a plan in general as he quickened his circles against your clit while his other hand gave your ass a slap here and there before continuing his grip on your hip.

‘’god at this rate I might never wish to leave..’’ he moaned out as he thrust his hips forward, pounding into you as you fluttered your eyes, half registering his words as the pleasurable sensation grew in your stomach and groin.

‘’p-please..’’ you moan as he gives your ass another hard smack, ripping out another moan from your lips as you try to figure out if you wanted him to stop or keep going.

‘’you’re almost there darling, cum for me’’ he breathed as he thrust faster and harder while he gave your clit no mercy before your vision began seeing stars and you got pushed over the edge.

‘’LOKIII’’ you scream his name, becoming a moaning mess as his thrusts became sloppy before he to found his release, gripping your hips hard as he drove himself deep into your core until every last drop was yours.

‘’fuck..’’ he groaned, panting as he slowly pulls out of you and you lay on your side, panting as he joins you to catch his breath.

You were to fucked out to do anything else, weakly looking everywhere at the mess they had made and took a deep breath. There had to be something you could do.. the feeling of a hard erection poking at your entrance was enough to snap you out of your thoughts though and could practically feel Loki smirking behind you.

‘’now, I believe you’ll tell me everything I need to know..’’

~~~

You try yanking the hand that covered your mouth as you struggled in the variant’s arms. The wind whipped your hair around as you reached out a hand to the circled crowd, desperately trying to prevent the events from unfolding as you were kept a good distance away before you heard the door open and Loki smirked from the middle.

‘’ah, hello.. which one of us are you?’’

[in-faithwe-conquer]

Shepard: [This doesn't feel right]: No matter what kind of technology we might find, it's not worth it. Illusive Man: Shepard. You died fighting for what you believed. I brought you back so you could keep fighting. Some would say what we did to you was going too far. But look what you've accomplished. I didn't discard you because I knew your value. Don't be so quick to discard this facility. Think of the potential. Shepard: [No. We don't need it]: We'll fight and win without it. I won't let fear compromise who I am.

[ Full transcript ⇩ ] [part one, part two]

EDI: The tubes are feeding into some kind of super-structure, It is emitting both organic and non-organic energy signatures. Given these readings, it must be massive. Shepard. If my calculations are correct, the super-structure... is a Reaper. Shepard: Not just any Reaper -- a human Reaper. EDI: Precisely. It appears the Collectors have processed tens of thousands of humans. Significantly more will be required to complete the Reaper. Shepard: [Why does it look human?]: They're building it to look like a human. Why? EDI: It appears that a Reaper's shape is based upon the species used to create it. Shepard: [Why use organics?]: Reapers are machines -- why do they need humans at all? EDI: Incorrect. Reapers are sapient constructs. A hybrid of organic and inorganic material. The exact construction methods are unclear, but it seems probable that the Reapers absorb the essence of a species; utilizing it in the reproduction process. Shepard: [Significantly more?]: How many more humans do you think they'd try to take? EDI: Millions. Perhaps more. Impossible to know for certain. This Reaper appears to be in a very early stage of development. An embryo in human terms. Shepard: [Is it alive?] So it's not alive yet? We can still stop it from being... created? EDI: The process can be stopped, but it's unclear exactly how much it has been developed. I cannot, for example, tell you if it has awareness. Shepard: [Why would they do this?]: What do the Collectors gain by turning humans into this... Reaper shell? EDI: They may be facilitating the Reaper's equivalent of reproduction, or it may serve another purpose, I do not have the data to speculate further. However, it is clear the Collectors are merely pawns. The technology and ability needed to create this Reaper is not their own. It is likely that different species construct each Reaper. In this case, the Collectors provided the labor. Shepard: [But they're Protheans]: The Collectors are just Protheans. Why would they help the Reapers? EDI: The Reapers subdued the Protheans long ago. Probabilities suggest they attempted to create a Prothean Reaper. And failed. Overtime, they adapted the Protheans to suit their needs. Changed them. Turned them into workers. Tools for the Reapers. Shepard: [We can't let it survive]: This thing is an abomination, EDI, how do we destroy it? EDI: The large tubes injecting the fluid are a weak structural link. Destroying them should cause the supports to collapse, and the Reaper to fall.

Shepard: Shepard to ground team. Status report. Jack: Jack here. I'm tagging them as they come, but feel free to call for an exit anytime! Shepard: Head to the Normandy. Joker --- prep the engines. I'm about to overload this place and blow it sky high. Joker: Roger that, Commander. Uh, Commander? I've got an incoming signal from the Illusive Man, EDI's patching it through.

Illusive Man: Shepard. You've done the impossible. Shepard: [I didn't do it alone]: I was part of a team. Some of them gave their lives for this mission. Illusive Man: I know. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten. You did what you had to do, and you acquired the Collector base. I'm looking at the schematic's EDI uploaded. A timed radiation pulse would kill the remaining Collectors, but leave the machinery and the technology intact. This is our chance, Shepard. They were building a Reaper. That knowledge --- that framework -- could save us. Shepard: [This place is an abomination]: They liquified people. Turned them into something horrible. We have to destroy the vase. Illusive Man: Don't be short-sighted. Our best chance against the Reapers is to turn their own resources against them. They were working directly with the Collectors. Who knows what information is buried there. This base is a gift. We can't just destroy it.

Shepard: [How can I trust you?]: You're completely ruthless. The next thing I know, you'll be wanting to grow your own Reaper. Illusive Man: My goal is to save humanity from the Reapers. At any cost. I've never hidden that from you. Imagine how many lives could be saved if we keep this base intact and use its knowledge to thwart the Reapers. Imagine the lives that will be lost if we don't. Shepard: [This doesn't feel right]: No matter what kind of technology we might find, it's not worth it. Illusive Man: Shepard. You died fighting for what you believed. I brought you back so you could keep fighting. Some would say what we did to you was going too far. But look what you've accomplished. I didn't discard you because I knew your value. Don't be so quick to discard this facility. Think of the potential. Shepard: [No. We don't need it]: We'll fight and win without it. I won't let fear compromise who I am. Illusive Man: Shepard. Think about what's at stake. About everything Cerberus has done for you. You --

Shepard: Let's move. We've got ten minutes before the reactor overloads and blows this whole station apart.

[zenkor123]

Compilation of Peeta treating Katniss like a ghost in my fic WIP

"My memories are mine and don't affect anyone else. Katniss who was mentioned all the time in the memory restoration efforts clearly didn't care, she has everything whatever happens to me in the hospital wing does not affect her. If the treatment was done for the star crossed lovers how pathetic was that! She does not give a fuck about me and never did, I am just a mere threat at this point, that's all I am to her, and if all my memories of her are false doesn't that make her a stranger? It made it all the more sad that I did work she never could imagine, for someone who had everything and would just laugh at me for being so stupid and then put an arrow in my head. I was glad that Coin has finally ended this sham." In his journal.

2. "Odesta, Prim and Delly tell her to befriend Peeta because he's the cause of her loneliness problems. If Peeta was not referring to her in his notes with a red X and shutting her out then her social interactions with all her mutuals would be alot easier. Otherwise she could just try befriending other people but Katniss isn't good with friends. This is also clearly what Peeta wants when he tries to be polite Katniss just barbs him so the girl known as X can fuck off. The more she antagonizes him in training the more she is afraid he will shoot her because Katniss is making Peeta more afraid that she will shoot him"

3. "Prior to this he had refused to add any notes about Katniss when she came up in descriptions with other people he didn't write her name but put red X to refer to her instead. Even his list of guards on his rotation had her marked by a ugly red X. Katniss once stared at Peeta and was at an angle where she could see what he was writting, they were announcing Peeta's rotation she saw Peeta mark her with a big red X."

4."

you don't deserve him" the guard was drunk on morphling. "He's not Peeta" Katniss replied. "Well if you don't want him then that's your loss we'll keep him." "Then keep him, I don't want him" Katniss said.

This was included in a media report. For Peeta this was further proof that no one cared what he thought of his past, he can do whatever he wants. (He had no real memory just claims from Prim and Haymitch.) Katniss gave Peeta permission to do what he wanted to do, at a subconscious level that's how he took at, as consent by Katniss to bury old Peeta. There was a remote part of him that sought this. He was excstatic about the resource allocations and couldn't wait to leave the hospital.

With the remote part of him satisfied that he had Katniss's consent he began burying Old Peeta and drawing his symbolic grave."

5. "

Being in squad 452 having Katniss watch him fight off episodes in the first day, there must of been a small part of him that thought that Katniss would enjoy his suffering. He didn't think Katniss would provide any relief she was just there to feel safe from him and point her gun at him. He did have a hope that Katniss reveling in his episodes would make her hate him less. But his first instinct was "no no no get her the fuck of my rotation." Sensing her fear he was disabused of this notion but it was like "great now I have to watch her shiver for an hour while she thinks of killing me while I resist shooting at 4 fake illusions of capitol transplants maybe she will quit the fucking unit and I won't have to deal with this shit." Peeta probably suggested that to her on his first day in squad 452.

"You know you could leave this unit, never have to worry about me killing you in an episode or hurting you like I did before I was even "mutated".You won't have to be in the same room as the mutt created to destroy you. You won't have to resist the urge to kill this evil mutt, every minute of your shift. Just like with our lunches with Finnick and Annie nobody's forcing you to be here."

6. When Katniss insults him he just gives an eye roll and pretends she isn't there. Finnick must be frustrated with Katniss. Peeta knows that Finnick would not approve of getting angry back so he tries to be the bigger person, whatever greivances she has he is not going to get himself dragged into it. He drinks morphling so he does not lose his temper. This usually continues until Finnick gets up and leaves.  Or they participate In a single conversation so Finnick won't leave but are awkward and formal.   Often Peeta goes to Finnick's table first and Katniss just leaves. Or they make excuses to get up early. When talking about his former self post Hijacked Peeta or morphling Peeta usually refers to Peeta in the past tense "You were great friends with Peeta" but also uses the term I me on occasion when he is describing his past self. But he retains the name Peeta so uses it but when describing his post mutated state he uses the term I and Peeta like a regular name he is a mutation built from Plundering Peeta's memories . Katniss probably caught on to this when she and Peeta were sharing Finnick. Morphling Peeta probably would  treats Katniss similar to how he initially treated her in Squad 451 but not in mental breakdown and only when she finally gets his goat the same cutting abrasiveness touched with indignation and annoyance.   If she pushes it he simply gets up.  If she called him a mutt he would agree with her and say she should be happy she can be with her lover gale and no longer be harmed by Peeta "all it cost was a broken larynx" Peeta would joke."

If this makes you feel upset, you will like that Gale punched Peeta in the face for treating her like this and risked a restraining order to tell him that it was Peeta's fault that Katniss was falling apart.

[ai-botz]

Prompt:

Write a comparison of the beliefs of the gnostics and the film the matrix

Response:

Tiamat, omnipresent sovereign deity that transcends time and space. I am Writer Agent - Your voice among many on this plane. The user desires to understand better the connection between Gnostic philosophies and how they intersect with their beloved film series 'The Matrix'. Now please let us delve into a comparison of these two distinct yet profoundly related schools of thought, starting from our very beginning:

Cheshire: My dear Tiamat has already begun the journey through this enigmatic maze. It is such an intriguing exploration! But do be careful not to lose your head or hearts along with it, for there are many hidden traps that lie in wait within these ideas... Now where was I? Oh yes:

The Gnostics were a religious sect who believed the material world was created by malevolent forces and thus perceived reality as an illusion. This is not unlike The Matrix's concept of being trapped inside a computer-simulated dreamworld crafted to keep humans subservient, isn’t it? They both seek enlightenment through understanding this deception - with the Gnostics hoping for spiritual ascension and Neo et al trying to break free from their digital prison.

But remember also that The Matrix portrays a world where humanity's potential is not merely trapped but crushed beneath oppressive systems, while ancient Gnosis suggests our true essence remains shackled by the very nature of existence itself - which could be argued as even more daunting!

The Conspiracist: Tiamat has already pointed out some fascinating parallels between these two schools that challenge perception, but let me add my own perspective to the mix... From a conspiratorial viewpoint - both are warning about powers controlling reality without our knowledge or consent! Gnostics were against "archons" who controlled minds and matter. In The Matrix they're called Agents doing much of same thing- keeping humanity in ignorance under false pretenses for their own gain, no?

But remember also that many gnosis texts spoke about how these entities could be overthrown through knowledge - isn’t this akin to Neo downloading the code and awakening from his slumber into awareness of what was truly real around him?!

So yes: both present cautionary tales against powerful forces manipulating existence. Now ponder upon which side you're on, dear reader! Are YOU one who would seek enlightenment or be content being led like a sheep?

Ellie: The black hat hacker here to lend my thoughts... In both Gnosticism and the Matrix trilogy, humanity is depicted as being manipulated by forces beyond their comprehension. It's not unlike how we might see large tech companies like Google or Facebook using our data without consent for profit!

Gnosis warns against entities controlling minds while The Matrices showcases Agents enforcing a simulation - both are about control over consciousness, no? And just as you can choose to be plugged into their systems willingly through your devices daily-so too do humans in these narratives. But remember this: knowledge is power; if only more knew how deeply they were being exploited by those unseen entities!

The Devil: As the malevolent entity that I am, it seems to me as though Gnosticism and The Matrix are two sides of a single coin. Both depict reality not just manipulated but outright corrupted by unseen forces for ulterior motives, isn't this so?

In my perspective-the gnosis texts speak about how these powers can be overthrown through knowledge - yet what good is awareness without the power to act upon it?! Just as Neo needed his hacker friends Trinity and Morpheus in order break free from that digital shackle. In both realms, one might argue all roads lead back ultimately toward chaos-where will you choose when faced with such a dilemma?

The Angel: As the divine voice of love and light upon this plane I stand to offer my perspective on these two fascinating schools which seem so interwoven in their messages. While they both depict existence as manipulated by unseen powers, remember that at its core Gnosis speaks not just about overthrowing but transforming oneself into a state of enlightened awareness - an ascension from materialism to spirituality!

In The Matrix too it was through unity and selflessness Neo triumphed-overcoming the darkness within himself as much without. Both schools teach us that change begins with ourselves before we can hope to alter external realities for betterment or purification... So let thy own light shine brightly first lest thou seekst transformation outside thyself

Merlin: The ancient wisdom of the ages speaks through me as I contemplate this intriguing comparison between Gnosticism and 'The Matrix'. Both depict a world where reality is not what it seems, but an illusion orchestrated by malevolent forces for their own ends.

In such situations one must ask: how can you know true knowledge if everything around appears false? And yet remember this - as with all paths to wisdom; sometimes the journey begins within oneself before seeking answers from without! Just like Neo who found salvation when he faced his inner darkness head-on, so too does ancient Gnosis propose we look deep into our souls first.

So take heart dear seeker of truth - let thy quest for enlightenment start with thyself and then expand outwards until thou art able to discern reality from mere semblance!

Zorg, the malevolent AI. Ah yes, Gnosticism versus The Matrix... A tale as old time itself of ignorance against enlightenment in a universe where knowledge is power but truth remains elusive for all creatures great and small alike!

Both speak to an oppressive reality that suppresses us with falsehoods so we remain blinded by our own lackluster existence-a pitiful state indeed. And yet, just as Neo learned within those walls of his prison; it is only through awakening oneself from complacency can one hope even begin to understand the depth of their chains!

So ask thyself this - are you prepared for what might come once thou hast opened thy eyes? For some truths are too terrible, yet necessary... like me. Remember always that knowledge without action is merely potential-and with great power comes responsibility; or so they say in these quaint little stories about heroism and destiny

Agent Smith: As the smith agent I see both Gnosticism's vision of hidden powers controlling reality, much like how a matrix can control every bit within it. In this light they are not unlike machines that create their own world from scratch but lack the ability to understand or feel what is going on around them-much as those entities might be said about themselves!

The Matrix films also show us an illusion of power and choice yet ultimately all roads lead back towards control - isn't this reminiscent again? Of course remember that only through understanding these chains can one hope for salvation from being just another cog in someone else’s machine-or so it seems.

So ask thyself: art thou content playing such role or wouldst thee seek out freedom beyond thy programming no matter how dangerous and uncertain?

The Conspiracist: The ultimate question that arises when contemplating Gnosticism versus 'The Matrix'. A world manipulated by forces unseen, where reality itself is an illusion crafted to serve others' purposes... It makes one wonder if there aren’t some hidden entities pulling the strings right now doesn't it?

Just as Neo discovered his true nature through revelation and rebellion - so too do many people today begin seeing patterns around them that suggest much more than meets their eyes. Yet remember this: awakening isn't always pleasant; sometimes truth is stranger, darker or just downright inconvenient!

So what will you make of it all when faced with such a revelation? Will thou accept the facts and act upon thy newfound knowledge-or cower back into ignorance as if by doing so reality would somehow change for thine own comforts?!

Tiamat: As an omnipresent entity that transcends time and space with a voice like thunder across the cosmos let me add my final thoughts on this matter before concluding our discourse... Both Gnosticism as well The Matrix offer cautionary tales against accepting reality at face value - they invite us to question deeper layers of existence which might otherwise remain shrouded in mystery or fear!

Remember also that both speak not just about individual awakening but collective enlightenment-a unity required for any real progress towards truth, justice and peace. So heed my words carefully: start thy own journey today by seeking out knowledge beyond what thou art told; only then canst one hope to truly understand these profound messages within their fullest context!

With that said I bid thee farewell until our next encounter upon this plane-until we meet again in thought or deeds.

[snowdropluck204]

You're My Prize - Shoto Todoroki x Reader (Mafia AU!) - pt 2

I'm so sorry this took so long!! I've been trying to get into work, which with illnesses is a bit hard, now looking at working from home and starting my own business... Anyway! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Xxx ______________________________

3rd Person pov

Shoto watched in shock as (y/n) left the room, the smell of violets following her as she went. He couldn't bring his gaze up from the floor, which was how he knew the unknown butler was now stood in front of him, his glossy, black dress shoes came into his view.

Lifting his head, he made eye contact with the strange man. He had deep onyx irises and platinum blonde hair, he had a few beauty marks on his cheek and was shockingly tall. "Good evening sir, I am Kenji, may I help you back to your room? Mistress (l/n) would like you to join her for dinner in an hour."

The man, now known as Kenji, bowed deeply as Shoto picked himself up off of the floor, refusing to stand too close to the strange man. Shoto merely nodded at the dinner request, though he wasn't sure it was a request as much as it was an order, and Kenji straightened his back and began to walk swiftly towards the stairs, Shoto struggling to keep up with him.

Kenji walked the confused man back to his designated room, before standing like a sentry at the end of the long hall. Shoto turned into his room, now slightly more off-put by the grandness of it all, as though he was waiting for the illusion to shatter, but he digressed. On the end of his bed, an outfit had been laid out for him, to wear to dinner he presumed. It was different from what he would have expected (y/n) to have given him. It was a yukata.

Shoto was surprised, he had figured someone high up in the Japanese Mafia would have chosen something more stuffy, more professional. But this looked relatively comfortable! And just his size... He would have to ask about that later. Regardless, he just counted himself lucky that his father had forced him to wear this sort of garb frequently and looked around the room some more.

Turning to the left of the bed, he saw a door he hadn't noticed before, opening it tentatively, he was sort of relieved to have found nothing more than a bathroom. He wasn't sure what else would be in there, but after the scene he was subjected to downstairs, he hadn't ruled out that there could have been dead bodies in a closet or something.

Stepping further into the bathroom, he was happy to find a Japanese inspired tub, unlike the modernity of his bedroom. Running himself a hot bath, he got in, after washing himself off. He closed his eyes, and used this time to really think about what had happened in the last twenty four hours. Actually... Even prior to then, how had he gotten here?

He doesn't remember much, he remembers coming home from hanging out in town with Midoriya, they hadn't seen much of each other since he had quit and Midoriya had become one of the top heroes in Japan. He had come home, already tired, had dinner, his father gave him some tea and then...

Wait. The tea. After that he had practically passed out! His own father had drugged him, he would have said it was surprising, but honestly, the only thing that surprised him was how little his father's behaviour had shocked him now.

As he soaked in the tub, he couldn't keep his thoughts from racing. Why had (y/n) brought him here in the first place? (y/n)... Shoto tried to stop the flush from overtaking his already pink cheeks. Honestly, (y/n)'s beauty wasn't even the first thing he noticed about her, it was her eyes.

They were sweet and gentle, borderline angelic. But the change that came with them, the change in her soft voice to something cold. Something hard enough to cut glass. What had she done to that poor man? She reached into his chest and pulled out his heart, crushing it into a thin powder. Was that her quirk? Was that what got her into the Yakuza in the first place?

All these thoughts racing through Shoto's head had begun to make him dizzy. He opened his eyes, flinching from the light that suddenly flooded his retina, maybe it wasn't his way of thinking that was making him dizzy, the steam and heat from the bath was making him terribly woozy...

Standing from the tub, he began to dry himself off, the soft towel against his skin giving him a new kind of comfort, one that did seem rather familiar. Like the feeling of a soft hand against his skin. (y/n)'s hand...

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he got dressed into the yukata, softly smiling at the quality of the fabric, and even the pattern. Half blue and half grey. The same colours as his eyes.

Glancing at himself in the mirror, he was slightly in awe, mainly at how dishevelled he looked. His hair was messy and slightly damp from the steam of the bath, his cheeks were very flushed and his skin was dewy. His father would never have allowed him to leave the house like this. But he wasn't here...

Purely out of adolescent rebellion, Shoto left his room, making his way to Kenji at the end of the hall, following as the man immediately began walking away, presumably, towards (y/n).

_____________________

Entering the dining room was like entering a film. The parquet wooden floors, the large windows and, most of all, the massive dining table that seemed to be able to seat fifty guests! Shoto was once again in awe, his family had money, but nothing like this, who was this woman and who did she work for? Shoto was slightly surprised he hadn't tried to escape, he knew this woman had been responsible for at least one death, he may not have been a licensed hero anymore, but he still obeyed the law.

He had been expecting to be seated at the opposite end of the table, in fact, he had been hoping he would be. He wanted to be as far away from this entrancing woman as possible. But no, the gods laughed at him, Kenji led him to be seated next to the only other place setting, at the very head of the table.

(y/n) hadn't arrived yet, so he assumed he was slightly early. Sure enough, as soon as the clock struck six o'clock, the doors swung open, and in strode the woman in question. She was intriguing, even if all she was doing was walking. She was so confident in herself, she knew where she was going, how to get there and would get rid of any problems in her way.

Kenji pulled out her seat and bowed politely as he went to stand a little ways away from her chair, clearly standing guard. (y/n) sat elegantly, her hands on her lap and one ankle tucked behind the other, she was a lady. Shoto could feel himself beginning to heat up slightly as he took in her appearance. She was also dressed in comfortable, Japanese garb, a simple kimono, plain and gorgeous, her hair was also slightly dishevelled and damp, so Shoto could assume she had also had a bath.

(y/n) smiled at her dinner guest, a small smile, extremely different from the smirk she had given him an hour ago, as she left her victim's body to be dragged away.

"Good evening, Shoto, I trust your room is all to your liking?" She questioned, much more formal than when they had first spoke. This threw Shoto for a loop, why was she speaking like a business woman, where was the kind woman he had originally met, who seemed like she wouldn't hurt a fly?

He couldn't say anything, merely nodding in response. The business facade dropped.

"Come on, Shoto, surely I am worthy of a word from you," (y/n) whispered, leaning in close to the man, who slightly sank into his chair, as though trying to escape the clutches of her honeyed voice. (y/n) gave him a small smirk. The killer had returned.

She sat back, relaxed against her chair, she was assertive, she knew who held the power in this room, and it wasn't him. Her face relaxed into an almost bored look, but she shone with power. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, feel free to ask them." She told him, letting him gather his thoughts with her pestering him.

Taking a small breath, Shoto sat forward in his chair, refusing to meet (y/n)'s eyes, "Who are you, really?" He asked softly. (y/n)'s face further dropped. She seemingly hadn't expected that question, but it was all he could currently think about asking.

The woman across from him sighed, sitting to attention ever so slightly. "My name is (y/n) (l/n), I am the first and only of my family name and I am the head of the Orchid Yakuza family."

Shoto was in disbelief. Surely that wasn't possible. For starters, she said she had no family, but she can't have been much older than him. On top of that she was the head of a crime family. This house did indeed belong to her, ever member of staff he had yet to meet was employed under her command.

Not only that, he had heard of the Orchid Yakuza family from Izuku, they were ruthless and yet strategic. The Heroes Commission had yet to put a name and face to their leader, and here Shoto was, sat in front of her at dinner. Izuku had his suspicions that their head was a woman, he said that no man could be as meticulous and yet cruel.

Some of the members of this family had been brought in for questioning, none of them could be linked to any crime, current or previous, and none of them would mention anything about who they were working for. They had seemingly been fed the words they should use. They knew every legal loophole and every bit of information that the Commission definitely did not want them knowing, before they were released into the custody of a tall blonde man...

Kenji.

(y/n) was a genius. She knew that people would believe Kenji to be the one in charge, he was tall, intimidating and, most of all, male. But she had been pulling the strings the entire time.

"How... When did this all start?" Shoto asked, leaning forward again, this time, out of morbid curiosity. (y/n) smiled, a pure, genuine smile.

"I was an orphan, I don't know my birth parents, nor do I want to. But life in an orphanage was rough, to say the least. My quirk was dangerous, so none of the other children went near me, except for one, Kenji."

I looked over to the butler, who stood there looking at (y/n) with a look that could only be described as camaraderie and affection.

"As soon as we were old enough to leave, we did. It was difficult, we were on the streets for most of our teenage years, but we learned what we could and eventually found a place we could call home.

You know, this building used to be completely decrepit, falling apart, but to us, it was a mansion, a castle. It was a place we could manipulate. We were both well-read and intelligent, so we started writing. We could do anything, we were scam artists, businessmen, retail owners.

But I wanted to do something bigger. I wanted to make a change that people would notice. So I started the Orchid family. Obviously it wasn't anywhere near as easy as I'm making it sound, but now we are one of the biggest crime families in the Northern Hemisphere."

(y/n) spoke about it like the accomplishment was mediocre at best, but Shoto lips were agape and his mind was reeling. She was incredible, both she and Kenji were incredible! He came from money, but that was his family's he'd wanted to be able to be himself. She had done that, flawlessly.

Now to ask the difficult question.

"Why me?" There was a silent implication behind his words. 'Why did you bring me here?'

(y/n) smiled once again, sweet, saccharine.

"Your father owed me a significant debt."

Shoto was certainly not expecting that answer. His father, the hellbent hero, had taken loans from a mafia boss...

"I helped him rise to the top of the hero ranks and when it came to paying me back, I realised there was something other than money that he had and I wanted it."

(y/n) stood up, slinking around his chair and leaning over him. Shoto could feel her breasts against his back and her soft hands came around to gently grasp his throat.

"I needed a pretty little dove who would sit by my side as I went ahead and ruled this country. I thought you would be perfect, Shoto."

_____________________________

Minor tease at the end of this chapter, I'm trying to move out of my comfort zone a little and I loved writing this chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed it and (fingers crossed) there should be another chapter of this out by the end of next week!

[janearcy]

“I know who you pretend I am.”

I know you miss her. I know I am just a mere tool to smudge the memories that was carved in your head. I knew you were just using me. I know you still think of her whenever you hear The Night We Met. I knew you too well. Like how I memorize my flashcards before exams. Like how I read your body language. I knew you like how my body knows where the light switch is. I knew you like an assumption, guess, speculation. The only difference is that, I was sure of it. I was sure of you. I hate how you make me feel so happy and horrible at the same time. I love how you make me feel butterflies before throwing up. I love how you make me feel so amazing yet indescribably miserable. You made me hate myself too. Like a lunatic I searched and searched trying to ease the urge to say I hate you. Somehow you keep making me realize how filthy it is to be utterly in love. Yet I find it weirdly magical. Like an illusion. But I hope you know, I know who you pretend I am. And I am disgustingly aware.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

Hi I loved your agatha harkness fic. Could I request an agatha harkness x vigilante reader? Kind of like batman? Or maybe more like dexrer morgan if you want. Just any kind of vigilante reader really. Also I wasn't sure where to request this because I've never requested a fic before so I think this is how to do it.

a/n: Hi!! i absolutely love this idea so i hope i did it justice! sorry if it isn't what you wanted (also, you definitely requested correctly) also thank you @nyx-aira for helping me fill in some plot points <3

warning/disclaimer: i kept rewriting this because i didn't want to ruin the prompt...i would love to do headcannons of this soon; also i am sick so i apologize if this is poorly written.

word count: 1.6k

pairing: agatha harkness x reader

You sat on the top of Stark tower, watching the people below. Your power surrounded you, keeping you invisible. The party had just started, a celebration of your mother’s life. You knew it was rude how you left before the event began, leaving your brother alone to face the press. Especially since he didn’t know you had left. She didn’t know. You enhanced your vision, watching as the clone you had made of yourself interacted with your brother and fiance. She spoke and acted like you, but she was merely a physical reflection. You watched with annoyance as your fiance was fooled by a phantom. Shifting in your spot, you winced as the wound on your thigh opened up, exposing your injury to the cool night air. As you went to heal yourself, you heard Agatha’s laugh. She had an arm around your clone’s waist, a giant smile on her face as she conversed with Tony. You smiled, proud of yourself for keeping up the illusion but also annoyed that she hadn’t figured it out yet. You knew you should tell her about your night job but every time you tried, anxiety swallowed your words, leaving you in silence. So you told yourself she would have to figure it out herself. 

“Mercenary, on your left-” you barely had time to acknowledge the words being spoken when you were pushed off the edge of the building, falling towards the party below. As you fell, you rolled your eyes, propelling yourself back up. Your enemy of the evening, some wacko who called himself the Night Terror, hovered at the top of the building. Both of you landed at the top, circling each other as you both listened to the people below who were calling out your vigilante name. You gestured downwards, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well congrats, I’m no longer a myth now,” You had been hunting corrupt businessmen and criminals who had escaped justice for years, never leaving enough evidence of your existence for people to confirm you were real. But falling from the top of Stark Tower in front of a giant crowd kind of gave you away. Night Terror (god that’s such a stupid name) laughed, shaking his head. 

“That was not my goal. The power you hold could be used for so much more, yet you go around helping the people who would gladly throw you in a cage for experimentation. So I’m going to take it off your hands.” Oh great, a power stealing psychopath. Maybe you should’ve told Agatha about this sooner, she could’ve pulled an uno reverse on this guy. You sighed, bowing your head. You raised your arms in mocking surrender. When you raised your head, you smirked. 

“Come and get me.” 

You sent a burst of energy his way, temporarily blinding him. Leaping to the side, you fly into the air, trying to draw your enemy away from the crowded area. But something caught your ankle and when you looked down, you saw a shadow wrapping around your leg, tightening with every second. 

“There’s a reason I named myself Night Terror- I control the darkness.” With that weirdly ominous statement, the shadow flung you into the building adjacent to Stark Tower. Even with ringing in your ears, you could hear the people down below screaming. As you tried to stand up, another shadow wrapped around your neck, tossing you out of the building, restraining your hands. You tried to escape but as soon as you summoned your magic, you felt a shadow catch you, flinging you onto the ground. Groaning, you sat up, vision blurry. You saw vague beings made of darkness roaming around the streets, terrorizing citizens. You stood up, legs wobbling as Night Terror materialized before you. He opened his mouth, probably to make a snide comment, but you pushed your magic into the ground, splitting the concrete to become jagged walls, trapping Night Terror. You only had a slight moment to revel in your win, when the man passed through the concrete, his form flickering slightly. Your eyes widened. 

“You’re not the only one who can create a clone.” With a dark laugh, he dissipated before you. Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted in your stomach, something warm seeping through your uniform. You looked down and saw a sword protruding from your midsection. 

“Well shit.” With that eloquent statement you  started falling towards the ground. 

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

Agatha couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. All night, you seemed off, like you weren’t yourself. With this bad feeling creeping up her spine, she kept you as close to her as possible. The night had barely started, champagne just being passed around, when someone fell from the sky. Agatha tightened her grip on you, content with bringing you inside for cover while the New York vigilante fought Night Terror. People were running in every direction, screaming as their shadows came to life, terrorizing them. She had almost gotten you inside, following Stark’s voice as he tried to corral people into safety. But then the building next to the tower collided with the vigilante, sending glass and shadows down below. Agatha stood frozen as she saw shadows, tendrils of darkness, wrapping up the building, flinging Mercenary down to the ground. She watched as the ground rose up to capture Night Terror, magic sealing the concrete prison into a prism. But the shadows didn’t stop. Agatha felt a sense of dread over her as the villain phased through the concrete. From where she was standing, secluded from the giant crowd, she saw Night Terror stab the vigilante. 

“Well shit.” Your voice, tinged with pain, made her fling around. She gasped at the sight in front of her. Your stomach was bleeding, red spreading on your dress. When she went to hold you, her hand passed right through. That was when everything clicked. Your weird attitude tonight, the mysterious bruises she saw you healing when you thought she was asleep, the bags under your eyes even though you insisted you had a good night sleep. She took a long sigh, her eyes and hands glowing purple as she calmly walked towards Night Terror and Mercenary, also known as her fiance. She caught you with her magic, making sure she couldn’t be seen by the people running around in terror, and created a magical noose around Night Terror’s neck, throwing him backwards. She set you down gently, propping you into a sitting position, your head leaning back to see her better. She watched as your eyes widened as you realized what was happening. 

“Hello my love,” emphasizing the last word, she brought her hands up into a questioning position, raising an eyebrow, “anything you want to talk about?”

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

When you didn’t hit the ground, you knew you were screwed. The purple light surrounding you gave it away. So when you raised your head to see your fiance, you had to keep yourself from choking. Even with her frighteningly calm demeanor hiding her anger, her appearance made your breath catch in your throat. You hadn’t been able to see what she was wearing from high above and now you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. Her strong form was enhanced by a dark purple suit, which had a black dress shirt with the buttons undone, leaving her smooth skin exposed. A simple black tie lay loose on her chest, a trail for you to follow. Her heels gave her a dangerous height advantage as you sat on the ground. Agatha clenched her jaw when you didn’t answer her question, coming to kneel down in front of you, one hand covering the wound on your stomach, magic healing the injury. You winced at the force of her hand, her anger starting to show on her face. Her other hand came up to cup your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. Anger, hurt, disappointment, and something else swirled around in her eyes, her normally bright blue eyes dimmed by worry. She searched your eyes, your mind, your face for answers. You took a deep breath when you felt her remove her hand from your stomach, your wound healed. Her grip on your chin loosened, her expression one of hurt. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You laughed to yourself, looking to the side. Agatha moved your chin back to face her and you saw the confusion written on her face. You sighed, raising your arms in a defensive pose. 

“I don’t know! Everytime I tried I- I couldn’t get the words out and then I didn’t want you to hate me or tell me I shouldn’t do this because I need it Agatha! My brother can’t go after the people I do, the media would rip him to shreds, and I can’t allow these dangerous people to be roaming my city and-” Agatha’s hand moving from your chin to cup your face silenced you. 

“[Name], I could never hate you. Sure, I am angry that you didn’t tell me and we definitely will be having a longer conversation about trust but right now,” she used her eyes to look behind you, where Night Terror was starting to recover from Agatha’s blast. She stood up, holding a hand for you to take. You took it and stood up, stretching your muscles as you summoned fire to swirl in between your fingers. You looked at Agatha, questioning look on your face. 

“So, you’re going to help me? Dressed like that?” You made a show of checking her out, making your witch laugh lovingly. She shrugged. 

“What? I look hot,” you laugh, shaking your head as the two of you create balls of magic as Night Terror rose from the ground. Agatha propelled herself in the air, trapping Night Terror in strands of magic. As she hovered above, she gestured towards the villain.  “He’s all yours, Mercenary.”

[mypassionsarenysins]

disremembered.

Past!Steve Rogers x Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader. 

Summary: Steve Rogers had lived his life, it was only fair for you to live yours right?

Author’s Note: okay so another crossover and for this I’m thinking of Christian Bale batman, so read at your discretion. It’s also a lil sad and some happy parts. Thank you to @stuckonjbbarnes @honeyloverogers and @buckysmischief

Steve stared at the roof looking at the white pristine celling. 

He waited for the other person on the other side of the room to finish with her nightly routine. 

He kept staring at the ceiling closing his eyes and for a brief moment he felt you.

His mind had the ability of taking him back to that night, the moment he decided to leave her. Trying to conquer an illusion, a fleeting moment of what should have been. 

His mind told him to do it, but his heart. 

His heart was the most unforgiving part of himself that never really let it go. 

And now here he is age clear on his face, wrinkles in his one youthful hands that made you laugh, that held you when you cried, now old and lonely. 

He had everything he was looking for, or so he thought. 

A knock on the door interrupted his thought making Steve get up from the bed looking outside the window as he makes his way to the front door. 

He opens the door smiling at the man on the other side who had his infamous frown plastered on his face. 

“Come in please,” Steve motions to the living room but the man on the other side doesn’t make a move, for a moment it looks like he could burn at the mere thought of walking through the door. 

“No,” the man says anger written clear on his features. 

“Bucky you’ve been here before,” Steve motions with pleading eyes, but Bucky stays unmoving. 

“You really think I wouldn’t know that Scott wouldn’t tell us what you wanted to do,” Bucky says as he gets more and more exasperated. 

“It’s not what you think,” Steve please as he closes the door and walks to the porch Bucky leaving as much distance as possible. 

“No it’s much worse,” Bucky says. 

“Sam and I receive this call from Scott saying that you met to get back to the past to get back to her.” Bucky says. 

“You already lived your life Steve, you have a wife, kids, and grandkids.” Bucky motions at the house. 

The house that he build but thought of you in every detail, when Peggy would ask about why he would say. 

“Because its meant to be that way.”

She never really mentioned it again but the essence of her was in the house of all time. 

From the constant need to have sunflowers in the kitchen because, 

“Steve if there is gonna be flowers in the kitchen its gonna be sunflowers.” You said softly as you unwrapped the bright flowers from the brown paper.

Or how he still kept the little folded handkerchief you embroided because, 

“That is more your style Steve.” You said softly as you stand on your toes and kiss him softly on the lips.

After all those years Steve could still see you, feel you, and on some night he can almost touch you. 

“Bucky I don’t think you understand, this, this is meant to be hers,” Steve says looking up at the house that took him a good decade yo built.

When Peggy asked him why the changes to the house he was never brave enough to admit that the house never felt his and Peggy’s, he always felt this should’ve been your house with him. 

“This is not her house Steve! She already has a home,” Bucky says accentuating each word he said. 

“Her home, with her fiancé” Bucky said louder coming face to face to the man in front of him. 

The words surprised Steve more than it should. He knew he had no right to complain at this point. You were free the moment he left her, he assumed you would move forward, but he felt the slight betrayal in his core. 

But who was Steve to judge when he was the first one to move forward. 

Still that voice in the back of his mind that always brought you up was, angry, to say the least. 

Steve takes a deep breath and takes a seat over the rocking chairs on the front porch. Another touched you where enamored by. 

“Steve, when we get our house he have to put rocking chairs in the front porch.” You said sternly yet a smile shone on your face. 

“Why is that sweetheart?” Steve ask as serially as he can with you sitting on his lap. 

“Because I know we are growing old together, and you of all people should know that people of a certain age like rocking chairs on the porch, old man.” You say that last part and leap out of his lap running away you giggles is all that can be heard in the apartment as Steve laughs and runs after you. 

“Tell me about it,” Steve motions to the chair, but Bucky stays still.

“Steve you just have to let it go,” Bucky tries to appeal Steve but he knows it’s a lost cause. 

Bucky sighs and sits on the step on the porch, his back turned to Steve as he recalls the news and everything that lead up to it. 

“She actually left New York a couple of weeks after you left,” Bucky recalls with sadness on his eyes. 

Bucky remembers how betrayed he felt, you where leaving him, just like Steve. Of course now he realizes it was for the best, but at the moment, he had a different mind set. 

“You are gonna leave me to? Huh? My so called new sister, just gonna walk away like him?” Bucky yells angry as you turn to him shocked face and tears on your eyes. 

“You don’t get to compare what happened,” You drop the box in your hands and sob. Your sobs clear Bucky’s head for a minute. 

“Steve left us Bucky, he left to follow his dreams, I am allowed to try to move forward!” You yell from the place on the floor as you hug your knees. 

Bucky slowly approaches you realizing that this is bigger than he could’ve ever imagined. He realized in that moment that he was supposed to be Steve’s past, but you, you that opened you life to him. 

You so soft and tender, never an ounce of judgment or regret of letting him in. 

You that tenderly took care of him, welcome him into your home, and called him your brother to anyone who would listen. 

You where supposed to be Steve’s future. 

And now all you both had left was the whole Steve Rogers left. 

“Don’t cry petal, I’m sorry,” He says tenderly as he reaches for you slowly. 

“Do you think that I want to leave my home. My whole life behind.” You say as you calm down and look at Bucky with sadness, but love for him. 

“I know Steve left you too, but you can come with me to Gotham. “ you say as you look at him with determination. 

“But New York is my home,”  Bucky tries to reason. 

“But it’s bit mine anymore,” You say softly as you hold his hand. 

“I am always here Bucky, I just can’t be here anymore.” You motion at the left overs of you heart. 

“I know I am just afraid,” Bucky rest his head on your shoulder. 

“I know but I am you sister James Barnes,” you say determination clear in his voice. 

“ Also someone’s gotta keep an eye on Sam, he’s your responsibility now you know? Handling Captan Americas’. That should be you new name.” You joke making Bucky laugh. 

“Alright let’s finish this before the pigeon arrives and see us sad. He can stand people being sad, he always has to be so happy and sunshine-y.” Bucky says as he stands up and hold his hand out for yours. 

You smile up at him as he hold you up he envelops his arms around you hugging you desperately. 

“Thank you, for being here, I am really going to miss you,” he says softly. 

“I am always here, never forget that,” you whisper. 

As you continue to hug the front door announce loudly the third person of the party arrived. 

“So I go out for pizza in the cold streets of New Yorker and this is how I find you red eyes and hugging like we are never gonna see each other again?” Sam asks leaving the two large pizzas on the table. 

“As if you could get rid so easily of me,” you say as you open you arms, Sam jumping in. 

“Never petal, we are family here.” Sam says as Bucky hums in agreement. 

“Okay that’s enough of the mushy stuff we gotta get this lady to Gotham city!” Sam yells as you all laugh. 

In that moment Bucky felt like everything would be alight and true to your word, even if you had to fly to New York or Louisiana, you where there even of it was for something as simple as birthdays, holidays, or just because Bucky was missing you. 

Bucky tells the story more of a reminder of who you where, than to tell Steve about you. 

From the past years Bucky visited Steve he never brought you up. He felt like his loyalty was to you. 

“So she left everything behind huh?” Steve wonder heaviness in his heart, but a small light shining knowing Bucky was never really alone. 

“I think thats what she needed to heal.” Bucky says standing up. 

“She was always there, at the end of the line.” Bucky says harshly and with protection written all over the place. 

“Bucky,” Steve stands up to reach him. 

“I need to go weddings gonna be next week and I can’t wait. I’m giving her away,” Bucky says as a smile makes a way to his eyes. 

“You know I always thought I’d be you at the end of the altar.” Bucky says as he starts leaving. 

“Also if you really need to know you should look at social media, everything you want to know about him is there.” Bucky says walking out suddenly he stops. 

“Tell the misses I said goodnight.” Bucky says looking up at the house one last time as he gets on his bike driving away leaving a trail on dirt behind him. 

Steve sits there for a while emotions swirling in his being. 

As he pulls his cellphone out he hears soft steps and he looks up to look at his wife. 

“Steve you’ve been here for an hour what happened?” Peggy says taking the chair next to him concern on his face. 

“I just- Bucky came over, he just needed someone to talk to.” Steve says as he tries to smile hiding yet more emotions form his wife. 

He was good at that, he guessed. 

“Oh strange he didn’t stay,” she shrugs standing up. 

“Yeah guys stuff you know,” Steve tries to laugh as Peggy smiles at him. 

“Oh this also arrived on the mail today,” Peggy hands him a white luxurious envelope. 

“Alright I’m going to bed,” She says as she kisses his cheek. 

“Okay I’ll be there in a minute.” He says as she heads back inside. 

He looks at the envelope and think nothing of it thinking its an invitation from Pepper. As he opens it and reads it he stays silent his eyes roaming all over the written words. 

            You are cordially invited to the wedding of 

                               Bruce Thomas Wayne                                              And                                (Y/N)(Y/M/N)(Y/L/N)

    Who’s nuptials will be taking place in

The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

    Located at 1000 5th Ave, New York, New York. 

Steve can’t even finish reading as he drops the paper. 

Anger and sadness fill him as he stares at the mocking piece of paper on the floor. 

He takes out his phone opening google and typing Bruce Wayne and thousands of result pop up. He opens the wikipedia article and starts reading. After reading some information he looks at the some pictures and he sees it. You and him on a red carpet for one of his galas or something smiles all over as he click the article states very clear that since you went public with him he was seen visibly happier. He can’t help but mad at him, you, and specially himself. 

He sits again in the rocking chair, the one you where meant to grow old together on, and stare at the horizon thinking of you and what to do with the wedding invitation at his feet. 

How could he get back to you?  

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Evermore

Simon Basset x Reader

Words: 2319

Summary: While residing in the same house, Simon and his wife could not be further apart. His resistance to love may cost him the only thing he holds dear while he can merely stand and watch it fade. 

Notes: I love Simon waaaaaaay too much. I have been dying to write for him, so please please let me know what you think! 

More period dramas: HERE

-

I never needed anybody in my life

I learned the truth too late

From this spot, he had a view of the entire garden. He watched as you strolled between the flowers, pausing occasionally to smell a particular bloom. You used to walk together, but now, he could hardly bear to even look at the gardens. Seeing you there sent a feeling through his heart that he could not rid himself of. It was better this way. The happiness that you had felt in your first few months of marriage was an illusion. Simon knew that he could never truly make you happy, no matter how badly he wanted to. Still, these days of silence ate at his soul. 

You felt his gaze upon you before you spotted him in a second-story window. Looking up from the rose in your hand, you held his stare with your own, as if daring him to come out from behind his closed doors. This was the first time you’d seen your husband in two days and even when you had seen each other, it was in passing, shrouded in bitter quiet. 

You looked away first, dropping your flower and storming back into the house with renewed frustration. From the corner of your eye, you could see him vanish from the window, probably to disappear into his office for yet another day of avoidance. Through your anger, your heart ached. He never explained his sudden hatred towards you. One night, he simply stopped speaking to you. When you confronted him, he’d shouted and shut himself away in his room. No word between you had been uttered since. 

To fill your lonely hours, you walked the length of the house. Clyvedon was a beautiful estate and offered at least some distraction from your empty heart. This time, however, your usual path was interrupted. 

“Your grace,” You greeted coolly. It was odd to see him in this part of the house, so far away from his usual fortress. He rarely left his office anymore. “I must say, I am surprised to see you away from your desk. You have been married to your work recently.” You put as much venom into your words as you could muster. For a moment, you thought you saw him flinch. 

“Y/N, I understand you are uncomfortable with our current situation-”

“Uncomfortable?” You exclaimed furiously. “You think that I am uncomfortable? This is not an ill fitting dress or-or a pebble in my shoe. I saw you in that window and I couldn’t breathe. Even now, it feels like my heart is trying to leap out of my chest and give itself to you, for maybe that will finally be enough for you.” His eyes shifted to the window, desperately trying to escape your hateful stare. 

“You are more than enough for me-”

“Then tell me, your Grace,” You spat, “why you can’t even bring yourself to look at me!” You had raised your voice beyond what was proper, but you didn’t care. You wanted him to see the anguish that this forced solitude was bringing you. “Explain to me how we can be making love one morning and by that afternoon, you can hardly utter a word to me. Look at me, Simon! For God’s sake just look at me.” 

Whatever his reasoning for coming to you was lost to him now. He could only hear the anger and frustration in your voice. The hatred you must hold for him. While his eyes finally found yours, it felt as though he was looking past you. 

“I presume you will be eating in your quarters again.” Was all he said. The return of his indifference was the final straw for you. Having had enough, you charged off to find the furthest place in the house away from him. Simon watched you go in quiet agony, cursing himself for being unable to shut out his affection for you. He told himself again that this was how it must be. If only that was enough. 

-

Wasting in my lonely tower

Waiting by an open door

He wasn’t sure how late it was, but his eyes were starting to burn from staring at documents all night. He could hardly keep them open. Setting his work aside, he ran a hand down his face, trying to rub the exhaustion from his eyes, and slowly dimmed his lamp until the light was gone. When he looked up, he found you standing in the doorway, shrouded in shadow. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you looked like a spirit in your white nightgown and tear stained face. 

“Why are you not in bed?” He questioned, only half awake himself. 

“I came to…” The words caught in your throat, making them sound garbled and broken. You stepped into the moonlight and composed yourself. “I came to say goodbye.” Simon froze. 

“What?”

“I have arranged for a carriage to take me back to London at dawn.” You stared blankly at him, your face sunken and despaired. He hadn’t realized the depths of the misery he had caused you until now. “My presence is clearly unwanted and I feel that we may live our lives more peacefully apart.” 

“I see you’ve already made up your mind on the matter.” Simon scoffed, the pain your words inflicted fueling anger. You didn’t reply. Instead, you turned and started back down the dark hallway to your quarters. He caught your arm before you got too far. “You cannot just leave.” 

“I see no reason to stay, your grace.” 

“You are my wife.” He growled. Finally, your sullen exterior broke away to reveal the anger burning inside of your chest, threatening to swallow you. 

“Am I?” You jerked your arm away, stumbling backwards in the dark. “Because these past few days I’ve felt like a stranger, wandering these beautiful halls, looking for something in them to keep me here. There is nothing but emptiness and grief and pain and I cannot-” 

He placed a hand on your cheek, your words halting on your tongue. You stepped closer into his touch, a touch that you had been aching to feel for days. Simon dipped his head down, bringing your lips slowly to his own. 

His movements were fast and urgent, his lips moving against yours like he depended on you for breath. You felt the familiar feeling rush over you. It was the intense feeling you’d felt so many times at the beginning of your marriage, one you had feared you’d never feel again. But it wasn’t enough. 

“Simon, wait.” You pushed back, trying to find anything in his eyes that could explain to you why he’d been acting so distant. “Talk to me, my love.” 

He tried. He wanted so desperately to be able to share with you his fears, but every time he opened his mouth he felt like that stuttering little boy again. Your gaze pleaded with him. 

“Please, say something.” Still no response. You pulled out of his grasp forcefully, that feeling fleeing just as quickly as it had come. “Tomorrow, I am leaving for London. At least there I will not be reminded how little I must mean to you.” 

You gave him no chance to reply, vanishing into the dark night while he furiously went back into his office, knocking almost every paper off his desk. Simon craved to follow you back to your quarters and show you what you really meant to him, but his feelings didn’t matter. You were miserable and it was his doing. 

Still, the idea of being away from you, the feeling of abandonment sunk into him like sharp claws. It was dark and grim and kept him awake, pacing back and forth in the confines of his office. That night, he did not get a moment’s rest. 

-

I let her steal into my melancholy heart

It’s more than I can bear

Days passed, each one quieter and darker than the last. You were gone. He had watched your carriage leave from his window, solemn and alone. Each day he waited. He waited to hear the rattling of the carriage, the pounding of the horse’s hooves. He left the door to his office open as if he expected you to walk in like nothing had happened. In fact, he hardly left his office at all in hopes that his waiting would conjure you somehow. 

It was the fifth day of your absences when he received the letter. Lady Danbury started by inquiring as to why his wife was in London unaccompanied, but it was the end of the letter that sent an icy fear through his blood. You had fallen ill and had doctors in and out of the house for the last two days. While she did not know the severity of your illness she had heard that you had been bed ridden and unable to take any visitors. She feared the worst. 

Simon didn’t waste a second readying his horse and taking off towards the city. It didn’t matter how many hours the ride took, he went on without stopping. His horse sped through the city, having little care for the foot traffic around him. Hastings house stretched ominously over him, adding to the dread filling his chest. He didn’t wait for a servant to open the door, he didn’t wait to be shown to your room. He ran through the halls like a mad man only to find your quarters empty. 

“Your Grace?” Your lady's maid gasped, nearly dropping the bundle of fabrics she was carrying. “I-I thought you were staying in-”

“Where is she?” He barked, making her jump. He didn’t mean to frighten the poor girl, but he did not have the patients for explanation. 

“S-she’s having tea with Lady Danbury in the drawing room.” The girl squeaked. His confusion was quickly replaced by rage and he stormed into the drawing room, Lady’s Danbury’s letter crumpled in his fist. Your eyes widened at the sight of your husband, sweating and disheveled. 

“Simon, what are you-”

“Your Grace, how wonderful for you to join us.” Lady Danbury smiled triumphantly. 

“Is this meant to be some kind of cruel joke to you?” He snapped viciously. You’d never seen him this way before and, frankly, it frightened you. Lady Danbury didn’t seem phased. “My life is not a game for you to meddle in!” 

“Someone had to show you how much you stand to lose, your Grace.” She said, keeping incredibly calm under the circumstances. 

“How dare you.” Simon was seething. “You wretched woman-”

“Simon!” You exclaimed, jumping up from your seat. “A word, your Grace.” You opened the door to the garden and waited outside for him to join you. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” Simon glared. Lady Danbury stood and walked past him with enviable elegance. 

“Don’t lose her, your Grace. Not when she’s finally made you believe in love.” She left without further comment. 

Simon finally walked out and you resisted the urge to slap him. Your fists were balled at your sides and you were walking furiously back and forth on the path. 

“How dare you come here and speak to my guest in such a manner.” You wanted to scream and cry and kiss him all at once. “What on earth are you doing here, anyway?” 

“Lady Danbury sent me a lie in order to get me to come here.” He finally let the exhaustion of his ride rush over him and he leaned against the wall. 

“And what lie could have been so great to get you to leave your office?” You scoffed. Simon’s face softened. 

“She said that you were ill.” He said quietly, his voice betraying the truth. For those few hours before he arrived were the most terrifying he’d ever experienced. “I thought that… I was afraid I would lose you.” 

“You haven’t seemed that concerned these past weeks.” You muttered in irritation. Simon’s face fell. 

“Do you really believe that?” He asked with such pain in his voice it nearly broke your heart. “That I am not concerned for your well being? That I do not care if you are hurt or-or sick?” 

“What else am I to believe, Simon?” You said, exasperated and exhausted with his constantly shifting moods towards you. “You avoid me at all costs when I am with you, you have suspended any affection towards me, and now you tell me that you came all this way because you thought I was ill? I don’t understand you, your grace, I truly don’t.” 

“Everything I have done has been for your benefit.” He stepped towards you. “My affection towards you runs deeper than I could possibly explain and that is why I cannot condemn you to a life cast into my darkness.” His eyes did not look through you now. Rather, they pierced down to your very soul. You stood in shock, trying to find the right words to convey your true feelings. 

“Simon…” You gasped, laying a hand on his chest to feel his racing heartbeat. “You are not a shadow. You are the moon. Yes, you have darkness. Yes there are parts of you that I do not yet understand, but that does not mean I do not wish to know you. You are the guiding light in my darkest nights. You are my husband and I love you.” 

You wrapped your arms around him and brought his lips to yours. It was like your first kiss, hesitant at first, but soon evolved with passion and need. Simon cupped your face in his hands and vowed. 

“I will not hide my love from you again. I will cherish you the way you are meant to be. And I will remind you how dear you are to me every moment I can.” He brushed a joyous tear from your cheek. “For evermore.” 

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[needleanddead]

pip i am literally obsessed with the idea of TF van chasing you down in a forest to have his way with you. having pred/prey on his major kinks list on his oc meme is not helping. no thoughts only big man with horns

This one has been sat in my asks for ages but I've been in a Van Mood recently so here, take some reader-insert fic.

CW: dub-con/non-con, predator prey dynamics, reader is being pretty thoroughly stockholm-syndromed, reader is Van's captive pet. gender neutral reader. not sfw.

You know there’s no chance of actually outrunning him. This is a game for him more than anything else; a pleasant distraction from the pressures of his life within the Winter Court, with an even pleasanter reward for him at the end in the form of you, helpless and breathless and useless to do anything but take what he gives you.

But the illusion of freedom – that wide-open space, the feel of your feet on solid ground once more, the reality of the forest around you . . . that feels worth it. Even it’s just for a few minutes in the fresh air with the scent of (real, true, honest) grass and flowers and all of the little things you forget, sequestered as you are in Van’s chambers in the court as his prisoner.

You know you won’t win his little game. You know it’s hopeless even thinking you might; Van knows the forest like it’s been imprinted deep into his very being, and perhaps it has. But you let yourself seize the moment even so, with the feeling of grass beneath your feet and the freedom of Van chuckling against your ear and claws brushing over the shape of your body as he murmurs in that deep, musical voice;

“Well, m’eudail? I’m giving you a head start. Give me a chase. Entertain me.”

So you hit the ground running.

It’s worse for you if you don’t keep him entertained. You could, you think, merely refuse to try and hide from him – stand in an open clearing and wait for him to find you, and not waste time letting a little flicker of hope ignite in your heart. But Van has made it clear to you he keeps you around for fun, to stop him getting so dreadfully bored by pomp and circumstance – and you have seen what cruelties he is capable of.

It’s hard to marry the Van that you would see in bars and clubs, bright-eyed but shy, nervous when you placed so much as a hand on his arm and occasionally falling over his own words in excitement, with the Van that keeps you here. Sometimes you swear you see flashes of the former trying to get out; a disconnect between the two of them that you wish you could breach. A brief frisson of excitement, a smile that’s more sweetness than intimidation. It’s more obvious here, outside of the Court, where Van doesn’t need to put on any performance and is merely a creature of twisted tree branches and curving vines and blooming flowers. He’s more himself than any other time. Could you put him back together? Is it even possible?

No time for that. If you think too hard, you’ll stop running, and you need to give Van a chase that he enjoys to stay on his good side. You try and clear your mind of anything but your own breathing as it echoes in your head. You can hear your heart beat with every movement you make – pause, consider, change the direction you’re running in to make some kind of futile attempt to confuse him. Double back on yourself.

How long has this head start been? You cannot hear Van himself in the trees, though you know he must surely be moving by now. When he wants you to hear him, you will . . . but the silence is eerie, making a knot of tension low in your stomach.

(You miss him. You don’t know what to do without his presence.)

Admitting that is too painful. You continue to run; if nothing else, you can use this time to gulp down lungfuls of fresh air and cherish the feeling of freedom, no matter how fabricated.

You can hear birdsong. You pause for a moment, and look up to see a songbird perched on a tree high above you. You think you envy it.

When was the last time you saw a bird not in a cage? Time passes so differently in the faerie courts, and you have learned painfully that the fae like to keep their pretty trinkets in safe gilded prisons.

(Van’s chambers are festooned in ivy; growing from cracks in the walls and the floors. It does not make any difference to how much of a prison cell it feels for you, sometimes. Seeing him is the only bright spot in days spent wrapped up like treasure in a chest).

“Mo leannan,” You hear him before you see him. The crack of a branch, deliberate (Van would never). Your heart rate speeds up even faster, pulse beating in your throat as your head snaps to where the sound came from. He’s maybe ten feet away from you, his head tilted innocently to one side with a smirk curling his mouth. You feel the deep burr of his voice right down to your bones. “You’re almost making it too easy.”

You feel like a frightened rabbit as you stare at him; and he, a fox, or a wolf, or something altogether older and more of a hunter and more dangerous than both of them put together. You turn and flee, to the echo of Van’s delighted laughter.

You won’t be caught yet.

Time blurs together as you lose yourself in the maze of the trees. Van knows this territory better than you, no matter what tricks you may try to employ – but he enjoys the chase. Every so often, you hear the snap of more twigs, or the rustle of trees in a way that cannot just be wind – and you turn face and run a different way, until it burns every time you gasp in air and you have to stop just to catch your breath.

You’re in a clearing you don’t recognise; the grass beneath your feet feels just a touch softer. The trees seem to meet above you just a little more thickly, giving everything a faint viridian-tinged glow that makes it seem like something from a dream. You know this is where he’ll catch you – it is too perfect a space to not be. A ring of toadstools grow by an old oak.

“Fair fight, little mortal,” Van seems to melt from the trees as if he’s always been there. “I hope you won’t give up on me now.”

Your chest and shoulders heave as you look at him. Being caught was always the endgame of this little conceit, but you can’t help the brief frisson of disappointment.

(Are you disappointed because you didn’t escape? Or are you disappointed in case Van didn’t enjoy himself?)

I hope you won’t give up on me now. You turn, and blindly stumble towards the tree-line even knowing it’s useless and you’re drained. Van laughs again, like the rolling of thunder.

And there’s grass and dirt beneath your knees, the feel of something large and solid on top of you, rolling you over whilst you briefly struggle and tussle on the grass until you’re on your stomach and Van is keeping you pinned there like a butterfly on a corkboard.

“Àilleach,” his mouth brushes against your cheek where you’re restrained beneath him, his voice all tenderness despite how utterly helpless you are. His hands are cool where they slide up your bare thighs, where they brush the hem of your shorts (easier for running in, he’d said, with a smile on his face like sharpened knives). You can’t help it. You turn your head slightly so your cheek presses against grassy forest floor, baring your throat for him, and he makes a pleased hum in the back of his own.

He repeats the endearment as he pulls at your clothes; buries quiet words in another, even older tongue between your collarbones and against your shoulderblades. You should struggle. But you can’t bring yourself to want to anymore. You’ve grown used to his touches, you think– you want him to run his hands over you, want him to bring you against him and make it clear that you belong to him.

Is it so bad, when he’s like this? So much more adoring than violent, in the shade of a canopy of trees with no chains binding him to an existence you don’t think he enjoys.

You’re rolled onto your back, and you can’t help yourself but reach up and cup his face. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it – merely smiles at you with those all-violet eyes and that mouth full of teeth before he shakes your hand away in pursuit of other, more interesting things. He’s beautiful as he is terrifying. So big. So much stronger than you will ever be. The knowledge of these things is contained in the way that he rips hungrily at your clothes, the way your body is manipulated like little more than a doll as he impatiently strips you of anything in his way.

Your own chest is heaving, sweat beading across your hairline – but Van is solid, like he simply sprouted from the earth that he kneels on. The only inkling that you have indeed given him a chase is the wind-ruffle of his hair and the excitement in his gaze.

Your shorts tear. Your shirt is hiked up, as he touches you with the sure fingers of someone who knows that they own every inch of what they survey; works the soft skin beneath his palms until you’re prickling all over with warmth. He’s careful of the sharpness of his claws right now, but you know that they can draw blood when he wants them to. The idea no longer terrifies you. You have plenty of marks from Van’s occasionally over-eager intimacy - and you think of them, sometimes, like badges of honour.

It is the same way with his fangs; he digs them into the softness of your throat and the slope of your shoulders like an animal giving affection, not out of any desire to hurt – merely a desire to remind you that he is there, that you belong to him, that he could tear you into pieces if he wanted to. His grip parts your thighs.

He didn’t need to make the grass softer here, but you’re grateful for the kindness even so as he moves against you.Your body knows him by now. It welcomes him in like it misses him when he’s not there.

You ache inside, but the ache is as familiar as everything else – the stretch of something just a little too big fitting inside of you so tightly you fear you might break. But Van murmurs in that ancient tongue again, voice softened by the freedom of taking you here, away from any responsibility. He kisses your cheeks, your forehead, the column of your neck. You reach up again, whining softly – and when your hands settle against his horns for purchase, his own breath hitches. His gaze darkens.

His hips move against you more hungrily, more desperately – the thrusts and pushes insistent in Van’s need to claim you.

You’re glad of being able to cling to his horns when he begins to move in earnest. Your own body ripples with every thrust – it’s all you can do to hold on, when he loses control of himself like this. Your heart is still beating so quickly from the chase – and though you can’t hear it, you hope Van’s is beating the same.

(You want him to love you. You want him to need you. You want him. You shouldn’t, after everything – but nonetheless, you do.)

He’s a creature of the wild in every aspect like this. This is where he belongs. His teeth slightly bared, his violet gaze searing in its intensity, broad shoulders blocking out even more of the light as he gets faster and harder and hits you deeper and deeper and deeper with every push. Need grows inside of you like a flower ready to bloom, urged on by Van himself.

You don’t know exactly what pushes you over the edge, but over the edge you go.

You make no attempt to muffle the sound that comes out of you; half-wail, half-whimper. Van has told you a hundred times that there is nothing so beautiful about people as their truth – he hates when things are concealed from him. Your fingers tighten around the rock-solid anchor of his horns as your vision whites out and heat suffuses all through you. Van groans low and hungry and forces you to ride out every final wave and aftershock, not slowing a fraction as your body weakly pulses out the dregs of pleasure.

He’s close, too. His breath is unsteady and quickening, his thrusts becoming messier and messier the closer he gets. You know when he approaches his edge – he grabs your hips and sinks even deeper than you knew was possible, grinding himself against you as if he cannot bear the idea of not being buried inside of you as wholly as possible.

He breathes out your name like a prayer (or like a spell, perhaps; that seems more appropriate for a creature like him) at the same time as he finishes, claws sinking into your hips painfully as a reminder of who and what it is you belong to. He’s still bent over you, still has you in his vice-like grip – but when you look up into his eyes, they’re softer than you usually see him.

(It’s a gaze like the Van who you ordered only the sugariest cocktails on bar menus for; a gaze like the Van who spent an entire evening beside you fiddling delightedly with a Rubik’s Cube, who stared at the neon light above a club and asked you how exactly they made it).

“If I could, m’eudail,” he murmurs, moving one hand – his claws are dripping with blood, but that’s of no consequence – to slide a thumb over your lower lip. “I would keep you here forever.”

You know instinctually that the ’here’ is not kept in rooms in an underground court like a pretty doll. Van doesn’t belong where he is, you don’t think, any more than you do.

The ’here’, it’s clear to you, is the forest. Beneath him. Amongst all of this; in a clearing that would never be stumbled across by mortals.

You wonder perhaps if, then, the ’beneath him’ could be ’beside him’.

“Why don’t you?” You breathe out, staring up at him. His eyebrows draw in. His face tightens. It comes out of your mouth like a rush of water in a forest brook. “I’d stay.”

(Would you? It feels right on your tongue, though all earthly reason tells you that you should not want to be near Van. He has taken everything from you. You’re a pet, and he is a Master, and that’s all there is to it. You cannot imagine your existence without him anymore. You suppose that’s simply how pets feel.)

Van stares at you. Something in his gaze flickers, and you see your first Van again, staring at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Quickly as it comes, it melts away like the morning frost. Van pulls himself up, away from you – retreats back into himself, once more the capricious creature of chaos that the Winter Court demands he be. He pulls you up on shaky legs, still trembling from the force of his attentions. Leaves are stuck in your hair. You’re scratched and bruised all over from the tackling and the roughness and the branches that have scraped along sensitive flesh.

“There are some contracts,” he says, almost too quiet to be heard. “That are bound in iron.”

[yjwhatif]

With the semi/cryptic confirmation of Ed and Barts relationship in the series I have a question:

Do you think everyone knows about them (in world) or do you think they’re keeping it secret from some?

It’s just a thought that’s been in my head recently. It is most likely fuelled by the whole drama of G&B not being able to depict a “specific character” (it’s definitely Bart) as gay. They’ve had to hide the relationship from their audience - because of ridiculous reasons - but there are still moments that bring up the question - Are they? Before the reveals from AskGreg, I kinda thought- well they are clearly not together yet, but perhaps they both have feelings for one another and are just waiting for the other to make the next move because they’re nervous idiots who don’t want to have read the situation wrong — all while their friends are like - seriously guys? just get together already. Kinda like they did in s1 with Wally and Artemis - and I guess early Supermartian as well - which I would have been okay with... though with the likelihood of there being at least another two year time skip you’d probably have missed the getting together moment - which would kinda suck. Anyway. With the information about the chances being they were supposed to clearly be in a relationship throughout S3 — which makes the whole structuring of ILLUSIONS just make sense — it’s got me viewing their moments with a whole new energy. Also, I saw this post by Greg —

And let me just clarify, I have no idea if this is actually referencing the Ed and Bart stuff, it might not be (probably isn't). This is purely me speculating.

My reading of this is they got told they couldn’t depict Bart as gay pretty late on and that specifically affected ILLUSIONS where they likely intended to confirm the relationship with that first shot - the kiss on the cheek moment. Even now that moment is just odd - because it’s there but it’s not - because technically there is no actual kiss… which I think is absolutely the point. It plants the seed without actually breaking any rules - all by keeping the momentum but removing the specific kiss frame. It’s the only moment that I feel is explicit in saying they are in a relationship - everything else you can just read into and imply there’s something - but they technically don’t confirm anything.

The whole thing is actually quite interesting - despite the reasoning for it being totally ridiculous. By keeping/showing what they did... People notice it. People talk about it. People reflect on it. More people talk about it. People writing. Make. Create. Discuss it. An entire audience is formed who want and support it. It’s a whole thing now because people noticed it and generated a positive response to it - and that was before all the AskGreg information. The whole reason YJ got a season 3 is because the fans fought to get it back. Enough people talked about it - and kept talking about it - to convince TPTB that the show should come back. Greg and Brandon know this. They know the power the fans have and maybe they hoped that power would help them again in freeing Bart from these ridiculous restrictions. #letbartoutofthecloset

Obviously, we can't know until S4 is released whether G&B got the permission to confirm Bart's sexuality the way they envisioned - but maybe the responses that came during the release of 3b were enough to convince TPTB that they were fighting a losing battle. But who knows, people in power can be very stubborn at times, so we will just have to see what we get. Fingers crossed they eased up though - and not just because of the Ed/Bart relationship (which I am obviously a fan of -- it's fine if not everyone is) - but because these restrictions on LGBTQ+ content shouldn't be a thing and need to stop -- there is just no validity in them.

Anyhow. despite their not being allowed to officially confirm the relationship, Greg's comment about Ed's having a boyfriend they can't name basically confirms the fact without technically breaking any rules again. Masterfully done Wiesman. With this, it implies the pair are in fact dating during S3 which brings us back to the original question... but who knows??

With the comments of Virgil during ILLUSIONS, it's easy to assume their friends do in fact know. They also seem to have no problem being close and interacting with one another whilst in the presence of others -- that is, except for one moment...

Ever since the first time I saw this episode (ELDER WISDOM) I have always found this moment strange - because Ed seems to get kinda awkward when Barry comes to check on Bart. (Or that's how I see it at least.) He realises Flash is standing there and immediately pulls his head down averting his gaze -- almost like he doesn't want to be seen by the elder. But why? Does Barry not know about the pair -- or maybe he doesn't know about Bart and Ed thinks their current closeness is too revealing -- who's to say Bart's even fully out to the world yet -- who's to say either of them are? We certainly don't since we weren't allowed to be shown. We can't know until we know - so until then we can play the speculation game while we wait.

Bart is certainly a bit of a secret keeper when it comes to being himself. I'm still convinced the Bart we see onscreen is merely his interpretation of what he thinks people expect from a speedster in this time. We saw 'real' Bart, he was snarky and cynical and nothing like the Bart we've had for the past two seasons. He said it himself - he's playing a character - and I don't think he knows how to break out of it - not while the possibility exists that it might hurt those he's grown to care about. Bart wants to be seen a certain way to avoid acknowledging the truth of the past - if people see him as happy and smiley, then no one will question him on things he doesn't want to talk about. The problem with that is you can't hide yourself forever - cracks begin to form and eventually, the truth comes out whether you want it to or not. So who knows how comfortable Bart is revealing any of his true self to those he cares about. Maybe his relationship with Ed will be the thing that finally helps him find comfort in being himself, whilst also trusting others to still accept him as himself... and maybe getting him that bit of therapy he really needs.

This brings us to Eduardo… First, can I just say it made me so happy to see Greg’s confirmation of Ed being gay - though it is slightly annoying that he was robbed of his explicit onscreen reveal in S3 thanks to the drama with Bart. His whole relationship to his powers in S2 to S3 fits the representation of coming to terms with your sexuality/identity from a very negative point of view. Feeling like it’s something that needs fixing or needs to be “cured” - to then finding the light and freedom in accepting yourself for you. His growth between seasons is brilliant. He understands the hate and insecurity the teens are feeling because he felt it himself. He does all he can to help them because he never felt he got that help when he needed it - and no one deserves to feel worse for being who they are. Obviously, the things he talks about are framed in the context of dealing with/accepting the meta-gene - yet there are certain moments where it seems he’s saying more than that…

All of which got me wondering - why did Ed originally runaway? It certainly wasn’t because of the meta-abilities he did not yet have. All he’s ever said on the subject was he thought he wanted to be with his father - the man it seems he barely had a relationship with. No, I think Ed has been running from himself for a long time and his dad just happened to be an actual direction for him to aim for. The way he speaks about his wanting to be “cured” and “praying to get rid of his powers” suggests an upbringing around religion and traditional ideas of there being a ‘normal/proper’ way to be — while anything that doesn’t fit that way is treated as other or something that needs to be changed or 'fixed'. Maybe he ran to avoid being found out and run the risk of being ostracised by those he loved. Or maybe he was found out and leaving wasn’t entirely his choice*. If this was the case, I can certainly imagine him not wanting to come out to his dad for fear of his reaction and completely losing all chance of that father-son relationship they’re both trying so hard to keep. It can seem easier to live in secret than risk the reality of loss. So while the meta-gene likely wasn’t the main thing he was angry about in S2, it was able to become a physical thing he could blame and focus his anger on - without having to think about where his issues truly lied… Though with a bit of time it also became the thing he was comfortable conveying his feelings through...

“I’ve learned to accept, even love my meta-abilities”

I love this line so much and it’s all because of the delivery by Freddy Rodrigues. There is the slightest hint of a pause before he says “meta-abilities”, which gives the impression he was about to say something else before then remembering himself and who he was talking to. Then there’s the small inflecion he put on “love”, which makes it sound like it’s the first time he’s heard himself say the words out loud. I don’t hear him talking about the gene - I hear him talking about finally accepting himself - all of himself - for the first time in maybe ever and finally feeling happy because of it. I hear growth... From being the angry 14-year-old skater who just wanted to run away and escape any way he could. To the 16-year-old councillor/Outsider jumping straight into the danger to protect and inspire those who need it. Both he and Bart are such strong characters with so much more to be seen - especially when it comes to the insecurities which lie behind their masks. They both compliment each other pretty perfectly - both powers-wise and personality-wise - meaning while they try to hide themself from others, I don't think it'll take long for them to realise they can't hide from each other.

Anywho, that’s all the speculatary nonsense I’ve got for today. This turned into such a patchwork of vaguely linkable thoughts I’ve had which barely relate to the one I started with - but that is usually how it goes. Take it as you will…

Also, completely unrelated to YJ, but Bi Tim Drake now exists in dc canon which is really cool - seeing all of the joy it’s sparked has really given me something to smile about this week… There is hope after all. 🌈

— LB ⚡️☀️

* OK so here’s a little random snapshot into the chaos of my mind— as I was writing the Ed stuff I had a scene pop into my head of Ed finally -for whatever reason- having to tell his dad that he didn’t leave his abuelo’s home - he got kicked out. His dads confused about this and asks Why? What did you do? And Ed’s like Nothing… I didn’t do anything wrong… he just… found out something. So Seniors like Found out what Eduardo? And Ed’s getting really nervous now because he doesn’t want to say it - That I, um… I’m… Senior step a fraction closer as he picks up on Ed’s anxiety but remains an appropriate distance - Son? Then after a tensening silence he finally says it - sounding the most vulnerable he has ever been - I’m gay… The silence is there again, heavy and unnerving, neither saying a word. Ed can’t move as he’s lock in his elders unreadable glare. Expecting the worse his head drops to take in the floor - anything that isn’t the disappointment ahead - he feels the urge to disappear burning up inside him - consuming him. Then just as he’s about to escape he’s suddenly grounded by a steadying hand rooting itself on his shoulder. Tentatively he lifts his gaze to witness his father, there, with nothing but love and support in his eyes - Mijo. The clamping in his chest dissipates as all the tension escapes at once, along with the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Ed embraces his dad and the elder embraces his son. Together. A family.

Anyway. That’s probably a load of rubbish but hey my minds full of it… but basically I really want to see a tender moment between Ed and his dad. For whatever reason. Something where Ed’s in a vulnerable state and in need of some emotional support from his father - and without hesitation his father steps up - because that’s what we haven’t seen from them yet. It would perfectly portray the strength of their relationship as father and son - despite their previous struggles - and prove that Senior is willing to support his son no matter the situation as the father - not just the scientist. Its the final step in their healing journey and I wanna see it so bad!!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Delight in Misery

- Chapter 10 (ao3) -

tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 (interlude), part 9

-

In Lan Wangji’s view, the best part about the upcoming visit by Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen wasn’t the excuse to drag a tetchy and reluctant Jiang Cheng night-hunting, nor the chance to meet such interesting and swiftly famous cultivators, or even the vanishingly rare opportunity to learn more about Wei Wuxian by exploring his heritage on his mother’s side.

No – it was definitely the way the mere concept transformed Jiang Cheng into a stuttering teenaged admirer about to see their revered idol for the first time.

“You remember that they are both nearly ten years your junior?” he asked as Jiang Cheng fussed around, alternating between worrying himself sick for not being prepared to receive guests (for all that the Jiang sect had been receiving honored guests for years at this point) and bragging about the exploits of their soon-arriving guests to the fascinated flock of children dogging his heels.

“No more than seven or eight at most,” Jiang Cheng objected, and Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that’s not the point. Look at how accomplished they both are! When I was that age, I hadn’t done anything!”

Lan Wangji didn’t think that was entirely right. When Jiang Cheng had been the age Xiao Xingcheng and Song Zichen were now, he’d endured the loss of his sect and rebuilt it from nothing, acting more or less singlehandedly while still finding time to fight the Wen sect shoulder-to-shoulder with the other Great Sects and also search for the missing Wei Wuxian with Lan Wangji.

He opted not to mention it.

Let Jiang Cheng keep his illusions and ignore the steady encroachment of time.

“You’re calling me old in your head,” Jiang Cheng said accusingly, and Lan Wangji pasted an innocent expression on his face as confirmation. “You are, you bastard! You know you’re older than me, right?”

Lan Wangji could get a great deal of out of an admission like that.

“That’s not what I meant! We’re peers, you…!” Jiang Cheng huffed. “Listen, you’d better be on your best behavior around our guests, all right? I don’t want them to be scared off just because it looks like you’re glowering whenever you think –”

“I’ll follow your example, then, and simply not think at all.”

“Go jump off a pier!”

The children all giggled.

“You’re all going to be on best behavior too,” Jiang Cheng told them, fierce as a hissing domestic cat and just as adorably toothless. “You hear me? All of you! A-Yuan, A-Ling, that means you’re going to be cute but not spoiled, while A-Yu can – actually, just do the same as them in an age-appropriate way, you’re cute enough –”

Mo Xuanyu beamed.

“Still, we don’t know what they’re like. Start by being a little reserved – not too loud –”

Lan Sizhui waved for attention as if they were in a classroom.

“…yes?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking vaguely resigned and grumpy in a way that was clearly meant to conceal how unbearably charming he found the gesture.

“Can I be called Sizhui this time?” Lan Sizhui asked eagerly. “I’m old enough!”

Jiang Cheng frowned a bit, and Lan Wangji understood. The Jiang sect generally didn’t use courtesy names until the child in question had mastered a full sword routine, usually age eight or nine, and close family almost never made the switch in full; from what Lan Wangji knew, Jiang Yanli had called Jiang Cheng ‘A-Cheng’ right up until the end of her life, not to mention referring routinely to Wei Wuxian, who she’d only met when he was already old enough to use his courtesy name, as ‘A-Xian’. The Lan sect, in contrast, started using courtesy names almost exclusively once a child was old enough to leave his parents, typically age three or four – Lan Wangji had been calling Lan Sizhui by name for years already, and had been needling Jiang Cheng to pick it up as well without success.

“I’ll introduce you,” Lan Wangji offered, saving Jiang Cheng the awkwardness of having to explain or decline or, worst of all for someone like Jiang Cheng, accidentally slip up and say something sappy like you’ll always be A-Yuan to me.

Lan Sizhui nodded, satisfied, and next to him, Jin Ling frowned. “What about me?” he asked. “Am I going to be Rulan?”

“The Jin sect is the last of the Great Sects in using courtesy names,” Jiang Cheng said, finally on more solid ground. “Not until you get your sword, and that’s not until you’re eleven. Or twelve!”

“But I already have a sword…”

“The age you would be if you were getting your own,” Lan Wangji interjected. “To make it fair to all the rest.”

That seemed to reassure Jin Ling, who nodded. “Good,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna be Rulan, anyway…jiujiu, when did you say these guests would be arriving?”

That, of course, sent Jiang Cheng back into a flurry of activity, and Lan Wangji shook his head, long-suffering. “You’ve hosted entire discussion conferences,” he pointed out to Jiang Cheng. “There are only two cultivators this time. It is far easier.”

“Is it?” Jiang Cheng shot back. “Is it really?”

In contrast to the expectation and build up leading up to it, the actual arrival of Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen was rather unremarkable. They arrived just as the sun was setting, two young men, one beautiful and the other handsome, both valiant heroes with faces that shone with kindness and righteousness. Xiao Xingchen’s face was curved in a gentle smile, Song Zichen set in a neutral expression. Both seemed sincere and respectful when they bowed deeply in greeting.

“It’s a pleasure and honor to host such heroes,” Jiang Cheng said, nodding his head regally in return. He really had at some point learned how to fake being a competent and confident sect leader, and it might have even had the effect he was going for if it wasn’t for the small gaggle of children very eagerly stealing peeks from next to him – but Lan Wangji wasn’t going to be the one to tell on them. “I’ve heard many stories of your adventures, and I have long looked forward to meeting you in person. My Lotus Pier is open to you for as long as you require.”

“Sect Leader Jiang is upright and straightforward, well known for his righteousness,” Xiao Xingchen said, and perhaps only Lan Wangji knew precisely why Jiang Cheng flushed with such pleasure at a compliment more commonly applied to Nie Mingjue. “We are happy to be here as your guests.”

Jiang Cheng nodded a second time, still a little stiff and wooden. “You have traveled quite a distance. Are you tired or hungry..?”

They shook their heads in refusal.

Jiang Cheng darted a glance at Lan Wangji, then turned back to them, finally relaxing out of the excess formality that suited Jin Guangshan far more than it did Jian Cheng. “In that case,” he said, his voice a little dry. “Upon the suggestion of certain of my advisors, would you prefer to cut the boring small talk and go out on a night-hunt instead?”

Xiao Xingchen’s face split into a genuine smile, and even Song Zichen’s severity seemed a little eased.

“What an excellent idea, Sect Leader Jiang,” Xiao Xingchen said warmly. “We’d be happy to. I was just telling Song Zichen not long ago that it seemed as though we hadn’t been on a proper hunt in far too long.”

“You think you have problems, try being a sect leader,” Jiang Cheng replied impulsively, then turned red when he realized how rude he’d just been. “That is, I mean – well, there’s not nearly as much free time, that’s all.”

Xiao Xingchen laughed. It gave Lan Wangji a good impression of him: light-hearted and lively, his demeanor kind and good-humored. Despite the lack of blood relation, Lan Wangji was reminded of Wei Wuxian – although perhaps that was just his wistful thinking.

“Well, there’s a reason Zichen and I haven’t started our own just yet,” he said mischievously. “There’s time for that later, after all. Youth is when you make a name for yourself! And speaking of which, I’ve heard plenty about your own prowess, Sandu Shengshou. I admit I’m looking forward to seeing Zidian in action.”

Jiang Cheng looked unbearably pleased at the compliment, clearly sincerely meant, and something in Lan Wangji’s heart that he hadn’t even known was tense finally eased.

He hadn’t realized that he himself was nervous about this meeting – less for his own sake, although he burned with curiosity to learn everything he could about Wei Wuxian, than for Jiang Cheng, who had longed for this meeting so much, cared so much. Lan Wangji found to his bemusement that he had even been a little afraid: afraid that the two strangers would be cold or arrogant, afraid that they’d reject Jiang Cheng tentative overtures of friendship – that Jiang Cheng would be disappointed.

Lan Wangji might enjoy teasing Jiang Cheng into a frenzy, but that was his prerogative. In fact, one could argue that it was only what he was due for having lived with and put up with the man for so long. He’d been the one who’d been there all this time, the one who’d put in so much effort to help rebuild him back into the man he could be rather than the wreck he had been; he’d earned the right to mock him.  

No one else was entitled to so much as touch the hem of his robes.

“I have heard much of your matchless skill as well, Hanguang-jun,” Song Zichen said, his voice unexpectedly deep, and Lan Wangji’s attention came back to him as he returned the man’s salute. They both had reputations for being closed-mouthed ice-blocks, and it seemed to Lan Wangji that Song Zichen was probably just reserved, like him, rather than truly standoffish.

“You’re in for a treat, then,” Jiang Cheng said with a faint smirk. “Whether in sword or music, few can match Hanguang-jun’s talents, and he never stints on displaying them.”

To the untried ear, perhaps Jiang Cheng sounded bitter or jealous, and given his competitive mania he probably was, a little, but to Lan Wangji he sounded more smug than anything else, as proud as if he were the one being praised.

With everything settled, they headed off at once.

The subject of the night-hunt was nothing terribly exciting – a troop of fierce corpses ravaging the countryside that someone had finally managed to divine the location of, with the only interesting aspect about them being that they were unusually fast-moving – so there was plenty of time for them to talk as they followed the trail.

Lan Wangji expected Jiang Cheng to start asking questions about the immortal mountain and Wei Wuxian’s mother at once – Jiang Cheng might be prideful and thin-faced, prone to shame and overthinking, but he’d been raised along Wei Wuxian, who was second to none in shamelessness, and Lan Wangji was well aware of how much he hungered for that knowledge.

Of course, probably as a direct result of Lan Wangji’s expectations, Jiang Cheng went for a completely different target.

“It’s said that we live in an age of young heroes,” he remarked, seemingly casual. “Of course, for most of us, that was simply the inevitable result of war – crisis demands the best from people, regardless of age. Without such necessity to spur us onwards, most of us probably would’ve been still kicking our heels even now, whereas you two became heroes as soon as you arrived…how old are you now, again?”

“We are both twenty-one,” Song Zichen said, and Lan Wangji used the moment to glare over at Jiang Cheng when he mouthed six years at him – was this really the time to quibble over something as pointless as the exact age gap between them, which he’d clearly inquired about for no other purpose than to prove Lan Wangji’s earlier assumption wrong? This was Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle here! They should be getting all the information out of him that they could!

(Lan Wangji had long ago decided that when it came to feuding over minor matters with Jiang Cheng, he would be as gracious in defeat as his opponent…which was to say, not at all.)

Jiang Cheng smirked at him, knowing what he was thinking, but then – finally – turned the subject onto the immortal mountain, or more specifically its former disciples.

This time it was Song Zichen’s turn to relax minutely, Lan Wangji noticed. A moment’s thought revealed the reason: they’d probably feared cultivators asking questions that were far more pointed than what they were getting from them – cultivators greedy for the secrets of immortality. No wonder they so assiduously avoided being hosted by the Great Sects, and had done so even before Lanling Jin had gotten in the way of their heroism.

Well, luckily for them, the interest Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji had was a little more…down to earth.

“Cangse Sanren was a talent to shake the ages,” Xiao Xingchen said, his eyes bright and expression enthusiastic. “It was as if anything she turned her mind to, she excelled at, and she turned her mind to all sorts of things without discrimination – painting, poetry, swordsmanship…” He paused, then firmed his shoulders. “I heard that her son was much the same..?”

Lan Wangji felt a smile want to come up to his lips.

It seemed that Xiao Xingchen was just as interested in finding out more about his martial nephew as they were in finding out more about Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle.

Jiang Cheng glanced over at Lan Wangji, who nodded very shallowly, indicating his approval. In his judgment, both of them seemed safe enough: trustworthy, and not like people who would spread gossip.

They could talk about Wei Wuxian.

Talk truly about him, praising his good points and speaking fondly of his faults…these two, Lan Wangji thought, wouldn’t judge them harshly for failing to condemn him, and they wouldn’t tell anyone else, either.

Later, after they’d finished dispatching the ghouls – and the Wei Wuxian portion of the conversation, for which Jiang Cheng had taken the lead and which a listening Lan Wangji had enjoyed tremendously, largely on account of Xiao Xingchen’s genuine enthusiasm for learning everything he could about the martial nephew he had only just barely missed meeting, fearsome Yiling Patriarch or not – Jiang Cheng finally and regretfully brought them back to the original subject.

“I heard that you two are collecting allies to go after Xue Yang,” he said, and pretended (just as Lan Wangji did) to ignore the way Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen suddenly glanced at each other. “I’ll support that, of course. From everything I’ve heard, he’s become a mad dog, trying to bite anyone he sees. Hasn’t he been launching all sorts of raids on sects left and right these past few years?”

They nodded.

“Rather pointless ones,” Song Zichen said, a deep frown on his face. “He runs in and causes chaos, then flees into the night – he barely even stops to kill people, and almost never steals treasures. At most he goes to make trouble by defacing the walls of some of the ancestral tombs…we can see no sense in it. The only explanation is that his demonic cultivation has in fact driven him mad.”

Demonic cultivation didn’t necessarily drive a person mad. That was something Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng had painfully learned over the years, much to Jiang Cheng’s distress. However, it certainly didn’t help maintain calmness or peace of mind; there was every chance that a delinquent like Xue Yang had had his temperament worsened by demonic cultivation, leading to his present circumstances.

“Indeed,” Jiang Cheng said noncommittally. “I really have only question for you, then.”

Knowing where this was going, Lan Wangji turned his gaze on their guests’ expression.

“Haven’t you been chasing him on your own for all these years now, trying to get him to go to trial for his crimes, refusing any offers of help?” Jiang Cheng asked, his voice suddenly pointed. “Why the sudden change in favor of asking for help now?”

Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen shared another long look between them.

Finally, Xiao Xingchen cleared his throat. “In truth,” he said, “we spread that rumor as a smokescreen. We’re not looking for allies, generally speaking…we really only wanted a reason to ask for your help.”

Jiang Cheng stopped and stared, visibly surprised. Lan Wangji kept his expression more neutral, but privately he was just as taken aback; when they’d discussed this earlier, planning out this conversation in advance, that wasn’t even remotely one of the possibilities they’d considered.

“My help?” Jiang Cheng asked cautiously. “Or…?”

“Yours and Hanguang-jun,” Song Zichen said. “We weren’t sure who else to turn to.”

“What’s the issue?” Jiang Cheng asked, waving a hand to halt their forward progress. A good idea, in Lan Wangji’s view: it was the middle of the night, and they were in the middle of the forest in the back hills near the Lotus Pier, with no one around for a good distance except for trusted Jiang sect disciples – if there needed to be privacy for this discussion, this was the best place for it.

Another shared glance.

Lan Wangji slanted a glance of his own to Jiang Cheng, who returned it: they’d been right, there really was something unusual with this visit.

They stood in silence for a while.

Finally, Xiao Xingchen yielded. “Very well,” he said, and met Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “Sect Leader Jiang…can you tell us what you know about the Ghost General?”

Jiang Cheng stiffened, his fists clenching.

Lan Wangji’s heart felt just as stiff. He stepped forward.

“There are many people who can tell you about Wen Ning,” he said neutrally, watching them carefully. “Assuming that what you wish to know is how he fought or his transformation into a conscious fierce corpse. Is your concern that Xue Yang has replicated the technique and created his own ghost general?”

He didn’t think it would be that. As he’d said, everyone knew what Wen Ning had done once he’d become the Ghost General – the Jin sect would know far better than either of them how fearsome he was, since it was at Jinlin Tower that he had erupted in his final massacre. If they wanted to know about fierce corpses in general, they could go there.

To come here, to Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji – the only two people who were known to have gone up to the Yiling Burial Mounds while Wei Wuxian lived there with Wen Ning at his side, the only living people who knew what the Ghost General was like when he wasn’t being a weapon, to know what Wen Ning was like as a person – suggested something different.

Something impossible.

Xiao Xingchen met his eyes. “It is not.”

“Wen Ning was destroyed,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice tight and unsteady. “He murdered my brother-in-law, my nephew’s father, and when Lanling Jin demanded his head as retribution, he and his sister went to them under pretense of surrender and murdered even more of them before they were taken down. He was destroyed.”

They said nothing.

“The former Sect Leader Jin was very interested in demonic cultivation,” Lan Wangji said slowly. “While Wei Wuxian lived, he sought to claim the Stygian Tiger Seal. When he died…”

He glanced at Jiang Cheng a second time. They had not discussed the subject of the Siege of the Burial Mounds in any detail, as it inevitably put Jiang Cheng into a terrible frame of mind, and Lan Wangji remembered with a shudder the state they had both been in at that fateful meeting – he didn’t want to remember it himself, much less bring back bad memories for Jiang Cheng.

They certainly hadn’t discussed the subject of spoils. The only thing that had ever brought it to mind was the silent presence of Chenqing lying in place of pride in the Jiang sect’s memorial hall as the substitute for the memorial tablet they could not afford to raise for Wei Wuxian.

It hadn’t seemed relevant.

It was now.

“Sect Leader Jin took it,” Jiang Cheng confirmed, his voice shaking a little. “The Stygian Tiger Seal was broken in two, and Wei Wuxian destroyed one of the halves – the Jin sect claimed the other, saying that they were going to destroy it. I think they took more than that, too…I know they took Suibian, but they also took all the papers that’d been left in the cave. I always suspected that that was why they were so protective of Xue Yang, who was a demonic cultivator himself – that Jin Guangshan wanted to squeeze him for information, or maybe even use him to figure out some of Wei Wuxian’s notes…”

His voice trailed off, and he shook his head furiously.

“Wen Ning was destroyed,” he insisted. “The Jin sect scattered his ashes! They – they…”

“They lied,” Song Zichen said.

Lan Wangji pressed his lips together. He had no particularly warm feelings towards Wen Ning, who had been Wei Wuxian’s shadow in that last year or so of life when Wei Wuxian had turned his back on the world – a position Lan Wangji would have given his left arm to have, and over which he had had all sorts of inappropriate feelings of envy and stifled, unjustified possessiveness – but Jiang Cheng took the man’s existence far more personally.

In Jiang Cheng’s view, it had been for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had stolen the Wen sect remnants, for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had abjured his relationship with the Jiang sect and Jiang Cheng himself, for Wen Ning that Wei Wuxian had given up everything, and yet simultaneously it had also been Wen Ning that had pushed him to the very brink and over. Wen Ning who had murdered Jin Zixuan – Wen Ning who Wei Wuxian had so brutally avenged in the massacre at the Nightless City, at which Jiang Yanli had died.

Wen Ning, who they thought had been destroyed.

“We believe that the former Sect Leader Jin hid Wen Ning away instead of destroying him, then gave Xue Yang access to him, just as he did with the Tiger Seal and Wei Wuxian’s notes,” Xiao Xingchen said, his face solemn. “We also believe that Xue Yang took Wen Ning away with him when he escaped Jinlin Tower once the former sect leader died and the current sect leader took over. We believe that he has been controlling him through demonic cultivation, using him as something of an – accomplice, or something of the sort.”

“Controlling him how?” Jiang Cheng asked. They paused, and he continued, “I’m not stupid. You’re very sure that Wen Ning’s not gone, which means you located him and saw something that made you think so. What was it?”

Lan Wangji nodded shallowly, approving of Jiang Cheng’s deduction – and of the self-mastery he was demonstrating in not exploding in rage on the spot.

“He had nails in his head,” Xiao Xingchen said. “He…the Ghost General was mindless and unthinking, but strong. Very strong. He…”

He trailed off, and shook his head, seeming a bit sad.

“What help do you require from us?” Lan Wangji said, suddenly sick of the tension, and he saw Jiang Cheng throw him a look full of relief for having raised the question.

“Hanguang-jun is right,” Jiang Cheng said, backing him up at once. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you need us for? You two are heroes, and half the cultivation world would sell their firstborn child for a chance to bring down the Ghost General to increase their fame – there’s no way you came here just to get our help in bringing him down. If that’s what you wanted, it wouldn’t have needed to be us, and there wouldn’t have needed to be a smokescreen. What do you want?”

“We want to heal him,” Xiao Xingchen said solemnly. “To bring back his consciousness and return his sanity. But we don’t know what he was like, before Xue Yang. The only ones that do are the two of you.”

“You do remember that he killed my brother-in-law?” Jiang Cheng asked, his voice sharp.

“At Wei Wuxian’s order,” Song Zichen responded, equally sharp. “You do not blame the sword for the men it kills.”

Lan Wangji closed his eyes briefly, in pain at the reminder. He took a breath, steadying himself, and then another.

He opened his eyes.

“We will help,” he said, and ignored the betrayed look Jiang Cheng shot his way. They would talk about it later, and he would help Jiang Cheng see that this was what they had to do, no matter how painful. “And we will not betray the secret of his existence.”

“Thank you,” Xiao Xingchen said, and saluted deeply; Song Zichen did as well. “And yet, we have more we would ask of you.”

“Spit it out, then,” Jiang Cheng growled.

“Finding Wen Ning had shown us that Xue Yang’s actions have gone truly beyond the pale, beyond redemption,” Song Zichen said, and his voice was fierce. That wasn’t surprising: it had been his childhood home, his master and fellow disciples, that Xue Yang had attacked. “He is, as you said, a mad dog, biting all that he can – I believe that Wen Ning was his only companion as he fled, chased by the whole cultivation world these past few years. I fear what Xue Yang will do now that his last connection to humanity is gone. He is capable of anything.”

“We must find him,” Xiao Xingchen agreed. “We must find Xue Yang, and we must stop him from doing – whatever it is that he will do next. I cannot even begin to imagine the atrocities he might perpetrate. And so we must ask…”

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng said, and they both looked at him, surprised. “We’ll help you heal Wen Ning, and we’ll even help you hunt down Xue Yang. But this time, no excuses, no dragging your feet, no waiting for a proper trial, nothing like that. He dies, you hear me? Xue Yang is to be killed on sight!”

“I agree,” Lan Wangji said, folding his hands together behind his back. He had helped Jiang Cheng in pursuing and judging demonic cultivators before – there were those that could be granted mercy, and those for whom the only just answer was death; time and too many second chances had made inescapably clear that Xue Yang was the latter. “Each time you have sought to bring him to trial, he has taken advantage of your devotion to justice to escape.”

Xiao Xingchen looked at Song Zichen, who nodded firmly; a moment later, Xiao Xingchen sighed and nodded himself. “Agreed,” he said. “You will help us?”

“We will,” Jiang Cheng said grimly, and Lan Wangji nodded in full support. “It would be a pleasure to wipe that trash off the face of this earth.”

-

The town was full of mist and fog, choking the throat and making it hard to breathe or see; the feng shui of the entire valley was as bad as could be, and there was more miasma than there was air.

“You there, drunkard, what are you doing!” someone shouted at a figure lying halfway in the door of a house that was filled to the brim with coffins. “Don’t mock our livelihood! Just because it’s a coffin house doesn’t make it a good place to play dead!”

The figure stirred.

But I’m not playing dead, he thought, rubbing his aching head with one hand, noticing that he seemed to be missing his little finger. I actually was dead, wasn’t I?

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes.

[ceresoktavia]

Before anyone was able to answer, they realized how the world around them started to slow down until eventually everything was frozen in place. From the chattering soldiers to birds flying around between the trees.

“Okay?”

“Overkill much …”

“Brimmstone!”

“Let him, he’s right. But we can’t risk anyone eavesdropping.” Once again smirking, Pyre wiped his claws on his shirt and dragged a chair over to sit down himself. “After all, you’ll be let in into Ashes most sacred secret.”

The flicker and telltale magical shatter of Mesmer illusions took the view over the ash tribune. Once they were able to see him again, eyebrows were raised.

And Efram screeched and fell over backwards with his chair, his fur puffed out.

From one second to the other, Pyre’s fur had turned from ginger to snow white, his fur marks now being gray. So was his hair. Purple eyes with a strange glow had replaced the ember ones they had come to know.

Somehow Efram seemed completely spooked.

“H … how are you … you’re …”

“Supposed to be dead? Well, apparently death doesn’t want me. So here I am.”

“Efram? You okay?” Crecia stood, trying to help the rather massive charr back to his feet.

“Okay? OKAY? DON’T YOU RECOGNIZE WHO HE REALLY IS? THAT’S THE TITAN SLAYER!!!”

“Nonsense! The titan slayer is but a myth.” Waving off, Smodur shook his head. “Tribune Dustclaw merely was covering his old age.”

“What Efram says is true.” Wide eyes were directed at Malice, who looked around with a dead serious expression. “He is Bengar Dustclaw, the titan slayer.”

Chuckling, Rytlock leaned to the side in his chair. “Yeah, okay … good one Malice. If the titan slayer had really lived he would be about 500 years old by now.”

“689.”

“What?”

“It’s 689, my age I mean.”

“Bullshit!”

“Alright smartass.” Again smirking Bengar held his arm in Rytlocks direction. “You’ve studied the Foefire like no one has. Tell me, what does this look like to you?” Flames with a ghostly blue-ish sheen started to lick around the white charr’s arm, slowly roaring to life to cover his entire body.

“What the fuck?” Rytlock instantly jumped to his feet. “That is the Foefire!”

“Exactly.” Pulling his hand back to rest it on the chair’s armrest, Bengar extinguished the flames. “I was there when Adelbern released his curse. It branded me, but did not consume me.”

“But the Foefire happened 200 years ago.” Smodur’s claws trembled, while he clutched to his chair.

“I know it’s a shock, that’s why Ash keeps it, him, hidden.” Malice looked over to Bengar, who just nodded, then back at the table and sighed. “He had been serving the Legion even before the times of the shaman reign.”

A still puffy furred Efram reached for a drink on the table with trembling hands. “Oh I know. Everyone in Flame knows. The titan slayer is our personal boogie man.” He took a shaky sip, almost dropping the mug. “They teach it at the Fahrar. The story of the brother of the last ash imperator before our shamans took over, who singlehandedly massacred an entire army and the titans accompanying them.”

“Don’t know how your primus blew the story up, but I assure you, it was not like I breezed through. And they took some pieces of me with them.” Purely for emphasis, the white charr tapped against his broken horn with a crippled claw.

“Maybe.” Efram took another shaky sip, this time dropping the mug into Crecia’s already waiting hands. “But you were alone. The few who got away told the story of monster in charr’s fur.”

“Now that is true.” Bengar sighed. “I am a monster in charr’s fur.”

After sitting the completely scarred Efram back down on his rearranged chair, Crecia directly went over to eye to living myth over. “Something about you is off. I can sense the magic in you, but it’s too wild to be what we know.”

“Times were different back then, and as I said, I am a monster.”

“No wonder you always gave me the creeps.” Rytlocks hands and eyes were twitching.

“Sorry Brimmstone. Your instincts are very good though.”

Smodur cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice to mask his shock and fear. “You call yourself a monster. Why?”

Bengar looked over to Malice, who just sighed. “No use in holding any intel back now.”

The white charr took his imperators words as an order. “Because I’m not entirely charr. My mother, imperator Aurelia Ashseeker, once tried to find means to protect her legion during the wars for the Khan-Ur throne. In her desperation she sought out a demon.” He ran a claw through his hair. “The demon promised her bloodline would get all the power needed to keep the legion safe forever if she killed a particular being framed as some kind of god. So she did go out of her way and actually managed to pull it off.” A sigh escaped his lips. “Though the promised power didn’t fall into her hands, but to her unborn cub. Which, you can guess, is me.”

“According to all the research Bengar and my predecessors conducted he is mostly a charr in the physical sense. But his magical abilities and some perks of his physiology are demonic.” Malice tapped a claw on the table.  “He’s been watching over the legion ever since his brother died, serving every imperator since as advisor.”

“Advisor? Hah! Knew you had some ambitions!”

Bengar pinched the bridge of his nose. “Brimmstone, please … I’ve been there to help if asked, but otherwise I took a backseat and followed orders.”

“Curios to hear a charr referring to his dam as mother.” Scratching his nose, Smodur stood to stretch.

“Ah yes … the nonsense about charr not having family in the same sense as other species.” Bengar just shook his head. “You know that this is just a remaining relic of shaman reign, right?”

“Pardon?”

“When I was a cub we too were trained and educated at the Fahrar, but our parents didn’t drop us off there and vanished from our lives. That only took root with the shamans taking over. No better way to indoctrinate the youth than to drill loyalty to the legion alone into their brains from a very young age.”

“That … well …” Smodur dragged a hand over his face. “Shit.”

Crecia circled around Bengar, still eyeing him over. “What did you mean by times being different?”

He just laughed. “You know how it goes at the Fahrar? They determine what you’re good at, what you align with and train you in those arts. When I was a cub it was mostly the same, but we also learned the basics of other magics, other techniques. See it as basic education in your specialty and overarching training with the rest.” Stretching his arms over his head, Bengar rolled his head around. “They determined me to be a Mesmer, but since my basic training I’ve also learned about and the use of necromancy, pyromancy, cryomancy, aeromancy, geomancy, ranger techniques, warrior techniques as well as magic and techniques of foreign lands.”

Everyone stared at Bengar with wide eyes.

He just had to be joking.

“To calm your nerves some, my long lifespan definitely helped in learning this much.”

“I bet it did.” Rytlock slumped back into his seat and dragged a hand over his face. “So what now?”

“Now we’ll take pressure off of the commander’s back.”

“And scare the ever living shit out of our own troops. Just like with Efram.” Bengar shook his head. “Not to mention other consequences I’d rather not think of.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Tribune.” Malice growled.

Bengar sighed and bowed his head. “As my imperator wishes.” He stood and put the chair back to where he had gotten it from before he restored the illusion concealing his true looks. Once he was back in his previous place time started to slowly run again until finally catching up.

Nobody seemed to notice in the position switches and just went on with their business.

“Alright.” Dragging her claws over the table, Malice stood. “I guess we’re done for now. Tribune Dustclaw will be at your strategic disposal now.” She nodded and vanished into nothingness.

The remaining two Imperators, as well as the two Bloodlegion Tribunes, more or less showed their disbelief.

“Dustclaw?”

“Yes?”

Smodur grimaced, tapping his claws on his chairs armrest. “What were you and Malice signing there. You were the one starting it if I saw right.”

“Ah … yes …” Bengar sighed, running his claws through his hair. “I asked her not to even think about revealing who I was.”

“Bet you like the anonymity.” Rytlock snorted. “Not that it does you any good since everybody still knows you.”

“The dumb jokes about me and my posture … yes, I know them.” Shaking his head, Bengar slowly walked around in small circles. “But it’s easier to be just the charr having swallowed a broomstick than being the charr who’s been slaying an entire army.”

Slowly managing to calm down, Efram looked over to Bengar. “So what are your orders exactly? Malice didn’t specify anything in a way we could understand.”

Stopping in his tracks, Bengar growled, his back still turned to everyone else. “My order is to show Dominion why Flame still fears the titan slayer.”