#but under the right circumstances he can become deadly

[theramblingsofadork]

Rivet has only seen Charge use the full extent of his power twice.

Once when they were kids, and he had a full on electrical meltdown…

And once when they were older… when his mind was no longer his own.

She’ll never openly admit it, but despite being surrounded by him and his power for all of her life, seeing her brother’s true strength terrifies her.

Light vers. included beneath the cut because I like it too much not to include it.

[girlactionfigure]

What Happens When You Can’t Simply Arrest the Jews For Defending Themselves?

by Seth Mandel

The morning after Easter Sunday in 1903, Yehiel Pesker went to his shop at the Kishinev market to inspect for damage. The previous day, the early rumblings of a pogrom had unsettled the city. On his way back home, he saw about 200 Jews armed with clubs and even a few guns—the second wave of one of history’s most notorious pogroms would come that day and Jews wanted to be prepared. When the pogromists came there was a standoff, until the police intervened against the Jews and the deadly violence continued.

Although these Jews merely presented a desire to defend themselves should they be attacked, and although this was one brief moment on the second day of a three-day blood-riot that would shock the world, “local antisemites and their sympathizers,” according to historian Steven J. Zipperstein, tried to argue that this was an escalation by the Jews and therefore the victims were really to blame for the pogrom. Elsewhere in town, a nearly 60-year-old Jewish man fought off four attackers, who then spread the rumor that a Jew had murdered Christians. For some, then, a literal blood libel in the middle of an extended massacre was transformed into the origin story of the whole riot.

“In arguments made by defense attorneys at the trials of pogrom-related crimes, Sunday’s rioting was dismissed as a ruckus that would quickly have come to an end… had Jews not overreacted,” writes Zipperstein. “In this version it was the all-but-unprovoked aggression of Jews and subsequent rumors of attacks on a church and the killing of a priest that set in motion the unfortunate but, under the circumstances, understandable violence.”

That all may sound ridiculous, because few pogroms are better known than Kishinev and because it had such a profound effect on history: It shaped the perspectives of important Zionist figures and it alarmed the world, even becoming an element of the civil-rights fight in America as an example of why racial and ethnic minorities needed protection from the state enshrined in law.

But leave out the names of people and places, and you’d be describing the response to Hamas’s October 7 massacre. The Jews had it coming; the attacks were essentially an act of self-defense; it would’ve been a minor event had the Jews not escalated by defending themselves.

The Russian police director tried to argue at least for moral equivalence, based on these lies, between the Kishinev Jews and their murderers. You can hear a direct echo of this in Karim Khan, prosecutor at the International Criminal Court, filing applications for arrest warrants for both Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Hamas terrorist leader Yahya Sinwar: “if we do not demonstrate our willingness to apply the law equally, if it is seen as being applied selectively, we will be creating the conditions for its collapse.” That echo is arguably even louder in the New York Times, which describes the reactions to Khan’s stunt this way: “Mr. Khan’s decision to simultaneously pursue Israeli and Palestinian leaders was criticized by Israeli government ministers and Hamas alike. Both sides questioned why their allies had been targeted instead of their enemies alone.”

Ah yes, both sides. A month after the Hamas attacks, the author Sam Harris denounced this way of thinking on his podcast in a soliloquy that will stand the test of time. The key part:

Of course, the boundary between Anti-Semitism and generic moral stupidity is a little hard to discern—and I’m not sure that it is always important to find it. I’m not sure it matters why a person can’t distinguish between collateral damage in a necessary war and conscious acts of genocidal sadism that are celebrated as a religious sacrament by a death cult. Our streets have been filled with people, literally tripping over themselves in their eagerness to demonstrate that they cannot distinguish between those who intentionally kill babies, and those who inadvertently kill them, having taken great pains to avoid killing them, while defending themselves against the very people who have just intentionally tortured and killed innocent men, women, and yes… babies… If you have landed, proudly and sanctimoniously, on the wrong side of this asymmetry—this vast gulf between savagery and civilization—while marching through the quad of an Ivy League institution wearing yoga pants, I’m not sure it matters that your moral confusion is due to the fact that you just happen to hate Jews. Whether you’re an anti-Semite or just an apologist for atrocity is probably immaterial. The crucial point is that you are dangerously confused about the moral norms and political sympathies that make life in this world worth living.

And in Khan’s case, if you can’t or won’t differentiate between Hamas’s war and Israel’s, you possess a moral deficit that disqualifies you from any position of authority or responsibility over others.

More important, however, is the core idea behind this trend. For most of history you could simply punish Jews for defending themselves, for staying alive. A pathetic puffed-up prosecutor could watch in silence as Jews were murdered and then file charges against “both sides” as soon as a Jew picked up a club in self-defense. Because the law, you see, must be applied evenly. The world wasn’t going to do anything about Hamas, even after its demonic acts on October 7. A fair prosecutor must wait until there is a Jew to be put in the dock as well. That’s balance. That’s justice.

Karim Khan may be a feeble clown, but he makes an airtight case for the existence of the State of Israel.

[hauntedrabbit]

Little Vere imagine

Content warnings: blood, gore, angsty, Vere being a little shit to MC even though their passed out, Vere and MC in an established relationship

Word count: 1.5k

Out of all the nightmares you had while being here, this one would have been the last one you could have ever wished to come true.

In front of you stood Vere. Claws, teeth, everything he could’ve possibly used as a weapon at the ready. And behind him stood 6 Senobium clerics, all with one intention in mind.

To command him to kill you.

Of course you never did anything wrong, right? You did what you could to get into the giant tower to hopefully find something to rid of this wretched curse, but unfortunately, you failed miserably. The only good thing that came out of it was you and Vere becoming something more special, more intimate, more loving than any relationship you’ve ever had the blessing of being in.

But that same lover was the one standing in front of you, his tail fluffed up and still between his legs. And if you looked any closer, you can see that he was visibly shaking, ears pointed down as he focuses every part of his body on resisting the command, refusing to give into the thought of harming you.

But before you could speak, a cleric shouts at him, obviously irritated by his refusal. “Vere! What the hell are you waiting on? Kill them already!”

Vere lets out a short growl, growing angrier by the second. He knew what the consequences would be if the Senobium knew he had a special someone. But then again they always assumed a monster like him could never be capable of feeling something as powerful as love.

Vere looks at you again. Anger, fear, frustration, regret can all be seen in his eyes, he doesn’t want to hurt you, he can’t hurt you.

But you stared right back at him with an expression that was far too calm considering the situation.

“It’s okay, I should’ve known this was coming, what would happen if I affiliated with you.”

Vere’s eyes widened a bit more, surely you didn’t mean that? After all the time you spent together, you knew he loved you, right?

But in the midst of his panic, a strong, painful burst of magic shot through his body, causing him to stumble. The clerics were becoming increasingly impatient.

“Do we have to take care of this for you? Surely you understand that the punishment for resisting a command is a lot more severe than you think.”

Vere stood back up fully, turning to send a very deadly glare at the group before turning back to you, but this time, you weren’t even looking at him now.

But before he could drown in his own anger, his instincts took over.

Within an instant, he was on top of you, hand wrapped around your neck and claws digging into your skin brutally. He could see the blood flowing from your body, of course under any other circumstances he would’ve thought it was beauty reincarnated. But this time, all he wanted to do was do everything in his power to stop it.

As his claws dig deeper, and his free hand takes ahold of your left arm to pin it to the ground preventing you from moving, you suddenly reach up, and grasp on tightly to the collar around his neck.

You squeeze the chain as tightly as possible, mumbling something that fell deaf to Vere’s ears.

Vere looks down at your hand, wondering what could you possibly be doing. A part of him getting increasingly upset as you say nothing directly to him, seemingly not paying attention to the fact that he was destroying your wind pipe.

A small beam of black begins to tangle itself around your hand and the collar. But as its shape becomes larger, beams of white start forming, assumingely resisting whatever spell this was.

But somehow, someway, the incantation that you had used, proved to be stronger.

Vere suddenly felt as if a huge weight was lifted off of him. He looked down slowly, using the hand that was pinning your left arm to reach up and touch the place where the collar was. Or where it should’ve been.

Then he looked up, the collar was now resting in your hand, broken where the locks originally were placed. You stared back at him, breath shallow and shaky.

Vere could only stare right back at you, emotions frantic and desperate to understand what happened. “What…have you done?”

Your lips, slowly but painfully raised into a small smile, carefully reaching your hand up to place it gently on his chest. “Give them…..hell.”

And those were the last words you managed to utter before falling into unconsciousness.

The clerics heard it all, obviously pissed off by the fact that you were still alive.

“I’m assuming we haven’t beaten it into you enough that the direct order we gave wasn’t followed through?”

Vere’s ears shot up at the sound of their voice, but he didn’t turn around at all to truly acknowledge their presence.

Standing up to his full height, he was completely still, not muttering a word whatsoever.

The clerics watched as the shadows around them grew bigger, the air suddenly felt more suffocating, and the area around them laced with the feeling of nothing but pure rage.

“I think, someone needs a reminder, of who I am.”

And finally, Vere turned around. And the clerics got their answer as to why he hadn’t been listening.

“The collar!-“ the clerics words were cut off. I mean, it’s not like they would’ve been able to say anything else without a head to do the speaking.

What followed was nothing sort of pure carnage. The screaming, the blood, the fear in their eyes. Vere took pleasure in it all.

It must have been at least, ten minutes since Vere unleashed almost every bit of resentment built up over the course of centuries onto the clerics. Sure, they were only workers and weren’t the ones to actually imprison him. But they still worked for the Senobium, in his eyes he had every right to take his anger out on them.

Vere eventually is able to catch his breath, but this time, it felt a little more relaxed, now that the collar was finally off of him.

Wiping some of the blood of his hands, he walks back over to your body. And now that the adrenaline from the all the killing he just did was wearing off, a bit of panic rises in his chest.

He crouches down, using two of his fingers to press it against the side of your throat.

The pulse was faint, but it was still there.

He then picked you up, paying no attention to the blood that was currently splattered all across his body.

“My love, if you wanted to release me from that wretched thing so badly, you should’ve done so much earlier.” Even though you were completely unconscious, he still managed to find time to tease you.

He then begins his walk towards the clinic owned by the doctor he loathed so much. As much as he would’ve preferred healing you himself, this was no injury that could be fixed with some bandages and a kiss where it hurt. Also, Vere needed to figure out how you managed to break the collar, the enchantment on that thing dated back all the way back to when he was first imprisoned, you must’ve done something you shouldn’t have.

But alas, he was now free. Free to do whatever he pleased, without answering to no one.

And it was all thanks to you, his most precious treasure.

~~~~~~~

Leander finished getting ready, securing his pendent on his coat before making his way down the stares of the Wet Wick. It was oddly quiet this morning, lacking in the usual sounds of people talking as they walk down the street and others flooding the bar of the Wet Wick for a quick drink.

As he walked towards the door, he’s caught off guard by the sight of people crowding around a single area in the street. People mumbling about whatever that was going on and others reeling back in disgust at the sight. What happened?

Once Leander manages to get outside, what he see’s is truly nothing short of nauseating.

Six bodies all hung up like Christmas lights on some rope that was tied in between two buildings, their heads, obviously having been ripped off but still, somehow there. But when you looked closer, it looks as if whoever had done this put their heads on the wrong bodies, like it was some sort of cruel art project.

Leander continues to stare in disbelief, surely who ever could have done this was nothing but a maniac.

But unfortunately, Leander knew exactly who would’ve committed such a gruesome act. And he also knew that if he wanted any sort of peace with that person. He was going to have to do a lot of pleading.

If only Ais were here to help.

Authors note: this was inspired by me seeing post about wishing to see Vere absolutely lose it while protecting MC

[gyummigon]

watch him burn, let him die | part I

werewolf!beomgyu x hunter!reader

synopsis: in a world where werewolves and humans coexist in a fragile peace, Beomgyu, a werewolf, is drawn to you, a hunter of supernatural creatures. ୨୧ word account: 2.3k ୨୧ genre: fantasy, romance, strangers to lovers, angust, soulmate. ୨୧ warnings: suggestive thoughts, violence, weapons, threat of death. ୨୧ note: i'll probably open a taglist, if you're interested, leave me a question or comment and I'll add you.

"The way you flirt is embarrassing," you spat from inside your motorcycle helmet, the tinted visor and lack of light making it impossible to see any trace of your identity other than the petite silhouette of your body and the dangerous barrel of your gun.

Beomgyu suppressed a grimace, he had been told the same thing... how many? once? twice? three times? Now he knew that his mother was right when she told him that being so flirtatious would lead to his downfall.

Under normal circumstances, he would speak his mind (not to defend himself, but to reinforce the sabotaging behavior and express his absolute approval and pleasure in badmouthing himself), but with a gun pointed at his head, he could hardly give his voice enough stability to say anything coherent. Oh... his dear mother must be turning in her grave with laughter; even he felt like laughing at himself, but he suppressed any hint of a smile that might further endanger his life and looked at you with a kind of quiet desperation. He was an unlucky guy, no doubt. Rough girls always brought out the worst in him.

"Not so talkative now, are you?" There was no mockery or sarcasm in your voice, and Beomgyu almost wet his pants when you brought the gun close enough to feel the cold of the stainless steel against his skin.

"Why so much abuse, sweetheart?" he muttered, trying to look away with a pout on his lips. "If you didn't want to come here with me, you should have just said no. You're humiliating me and making me uncomfortable for nothing. Maybe if..."

Intending to take away his chance to keep talking, you elbowed him in the ribs and Beomgyu immediately shut up, forcing his lungs to catch their breath. "Ouch... Bitch, that... hurt."

"What am I supposed to do when you talk out of turn?"

Beomgyu closed his eyes and shrugged with his most dying expression. In the dark solitude of the parking lot and the palpable tension, your figure remained unperturbed, sheltered behind the motorcycle helmet and the deadly weapon you held. He had seen you hold a gun many times, but that night was the first time you threatened his life with one. God, how he wanted you.

The encounter had not been a coincidence. It wasn't the first night he'd followed the trail of your motorcycle and the addictive sweetness of your scent. Hell, it was becoming a crazy habit. Something about you appealed to him, which was why he had dared to approach you a few minutes ago, when you had made that stop for fuel at three in the morning, alone and unprepared. The two of you alone, face to face, he would have sworn that you made other parts of his body besides his heart beat with intensity. But when he invited you to join him in a more private place, and you dragged him into a dark alley, it was not exactly the outcome he had been expecting.

"What?" Your voice broke the sudden silence and made Beomgyu sigh.

"Nothing, your razor-sharp gun intimidates me," he smiled weakly. "Could you at least uncover your face and lower the gun to my neck? With the gun at my neck and your beautiful face in my face, I can tell if you're smiling at me or if you're about to shoot."

"Are you making fun of me?" you asked, and with a mixture of fear and sincerity, Beomgyu tried to explain, "Yes, I'm sorry. It's just that you make me nervous."

"I am not here for you to make me laugh at you. Your pack is not around to save your weak hide, I have no problem shooting you" you declared. You had a tough temper, he didn't doubt you or the certainty with which your fingers curled around the grip of your pistol.

"Why did you leave your territory?"

That was the question Beomgyu had been waiting for. A novice hunter might not have even realized that he didn't naturally belong in that place, with the humans, but you weren't just any hunter, you were experienced; despite being mortal, you had an innate knowledge of the supernatural world and survival instincts that, used in an appropriate manner, reached levels similar to those of a non-human creature. He had seen some of that, your body in action, the power of your weapons and the control you had over them... But he had also seen your other side, in the periodic visits the hunters made to his village, always watching you from behind a tree as you negotiated and secured peace treaties with his pack. He saw a woman of character, reasonable and firm, a leader.

"Those were orders."

"From whom?"

"Soobin. With rumors of a clan of vampires running amok on the outskirts of town... we must be on our guard."

He heard you let out a strange laugh, but instead of laughing with you, he did his best to keep a serious expression on his face. The pain of your blow to his ribs was still fresh in his mind, and the fact that your laugh sounded so sexy didn't help.

"He sends you alone, into hunter territory? As if you could do anything if a vampire got in your way," you scoffed, a little incredulous at the situation. "God, I shouldn't even be surprised. Stupid werewolves. Tell Soobin if he ever sends one of his dogs to stick its nose in my stuff again, I'll..."

A roll of his eyes interrupted you, "Sure, I'll be glad to pass on your kind words to him. Can you..." he hesitated for a second. "Can you put your gun away now?"

You fluttered your eyelashes and looked at him wordlessly, as if you were debating whether to put a hole in his skull or just let him go. Beomgyu still couldn't see your face, but he could perfectly imagine you thinking under the helmet, with your full lips between your teeth and that hard stare that almost made his legs tremble. The image itself was enough to disorient him, barely making him aware of the choice you had made. You took two firm steps back and he, expectant and nervous, almost knelt down and kissed your boots when you finally lowered your pistol and lifted your helmet visor to reveal your eyes.

With a dramatic expression, he placed a hand on his chest and leaned back against the wall to keep his balance and catch his breath. "Wow..."

"Usually guys like gun games."

"I don't know, when I was little I just played spin the top."

He caught your eyes glancing sideways at him as you tucked your gun into your belt holster. A silly grin spread across his face at your blank expression and, to his satisfaction, lack of contempt, but it faded the moment you turned your back and began to walk away from him. "I don't want to see you here again."

Beomgyu separated his back from the wall with a jump and licked his lips in anticipation. "About the vampires..."

"Go home."

"There are hatchlings at home," Beomgyu took quick steps to catch up with you and stepped in your way to meet your gaze. "It's the end of the year, so many lycanthropes that have reached sufficient maturity have left the territory and probably won't return if they manage to mate. Most of our other lycans are still puppies and our alpha female is pregnant, so we are in a very vulnerable and dangerous position, even if we are talking about a single vampire."

Your look remained impatient and bored.

"What about your Alpha, is he as weak as you?"

A spark of embarrassment flashed in Beomgyu's eyes, but it didn't last long. "No, smartass, Soobin is skilled and influential, he's very intelligent, patient and... Well, those are the qualities that made him a leader, but..."

"But he got where he is by fighting battles he didn't win. He hides behind a wall of ass-kissing wolves." You crossed your arms with a smug expression. "He's a weakling."

If you hadn't looked so pretty in the light of the street lamps, with that ridiculously large helmet on your petite body and the outline of your breasts marked by the pressure of your arms underneath them, Beomgyu was sure he wouldn't have bothered to sound kind.

"Honey, a good Alpha is not the brute who has the physical strength to kill or win a fight," a snort came from your mouth at the nickname, making him smile, "but the one who has the ability to listen and earn the loyalty and respect of the pack."

"If your Alpha is so capable, what are you worried about?"

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment before answering. "No wolf, especially an Alpha, will hesitate to give priority to his litter."

"And you want...?"

I want to live, he thought, unable to get the words out of the back of his mind. Even if his pack meant everything to him, there was no one with whom he shared a blood bond or a bond other than that of unconditional loyalty. He couldn't shake that feeling of not belonging, that made him feel like he was no one, just a burden, condemned to serve and give his life for belonging. He wanted to be a priority.

"I want the assurance that no group of vampires will invade my home tonight or the next few nights," he replied with a firm slowness.

"It's not like vampires are interested in the lives of useless wolves like you."

"That… that wasn't very nice of you." Beomgyu grimaced and looked at you with growing frustration on his face. "I'm a hunter by nature, if there's one thing I can smell, it's approaching danger."

Your long and sudden silence confirmed Beomgyu's suspicion: something was wrong. He had noticed it during his last visits to your territory, people who exuded fear and anxiety, the smell of fresh blood and gunpowder in the air that could not pass unnoticed, lights that never went out to prevent the darkness from spreading; even at this very moment, you were alert and hunting.

"They're already here, aren't they?" The question sounded more frightened than Beomgyu would have liked to admit, but even with the neutrality of your expression, your lack of response spoke volumes. "And if it was just one, you would have taken care of it by now, how many are there? Look, we don't have weapons, we don't need them, if only..."

"I don't ally with wolves," your answer was so simple and short that he didn't know what to say or how to react.

"But..."

"And wolves don't ally with humans."

"To be more precise, I'm a lycanthrope," he muttered with an irritated expression that made you snort. 

"I'm sure your wolf pack doesn't know you're here, do they? What will happen when they find out that you're violating one of the most important rules that keep the peace between the two species? Will your Alpha be willing to pay for your treachery with your life?" 

"You're talking about your rules," Beomgyu's answer was dry. Like a scolded dog, his eyes dropped until they were fixed on the ground, but not for long. When he raised his face again, his eyes seemed more angry than concerned. "What I do is for them. There's nothing treacherous about it. Nor in being here. It's my job, my duty."

"Your duty is to die for them" A sneer crossed your face as you spoke and Beomgyu felt you looked at him as if he were an unbearable fly in the middle of the night, like an insect waking you from sleep in the middle of a perfect sleep cycle. "You know the truth of the alliance between our species, which allows us to live apart, to have peace and security. The agreement has the terms it has for a reason. It is not an agreement about power or domination, but about respect and the logic of survival. What you are doing is an act of treason and war."

"It's not treason if you say nothing...," Beomgyu said, speaking more to himself than to you.

"Leave this ground. I must not tell you why. I must have no reason. Just go." Your gaze became hard as you looked at him from head to toe. "Vampires are vampires, it takes more than a pair of claws or fangs to get rid of them. A weak body puts you at a disadvantage, but a foolish mind is guaranteed defeat."

You put your hand on his shoulder and pushed him out of the way with a firm motion. For some reason, when Beomgyu felt your cold touch, the word vampire and his intense hatred for them resonated in his mind. "Want some advice? You help more if you don't get in the way." 

Beomgyu stared at your silhouette, helpless at your refusal. Your head was already turned when you took a step out of his reach. He didn't dare to take another step towards you, as if your words still echoing in his head were an obstacle. 

He sighed in defeat as he watched you get on your motorcycle. The tension in the alley faded with each roar of the engine as you rode away. He stood for a few minutes, taking in the situation, before making his own way, thinking that if Soobin found out everything that had happened that night, he wouldn't even have the physical ability to move an inch away from your territory.

The only thing he was supposed to do that night and the nights after was to watch you from a distance. But Beomgyu never learned to take the easy way out.

© gyummigon | all rights reserved. copying or adaptation prohibited

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Amplification: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Summary: A deadly spread of Anthrax is going around infecting and killing people. One of your own is affected that completely tears your world into two. How will you over come this?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"It will become fine dust over all the land of Egypt and it will become boils breaking out with sores on man and beast through all the land of Egypt." - Exodus 9:9

"I want to go back," you say in the elevator heading up to the office.

"Me too. Maybe we can make this a monthly thing. You know, go someplace really fancy for the weekend."

"I'd really like that," you grin and pull him closer. You two are the only ones inside the elevator, so you don't feel bad when you kiss him like you would in the bedroom. "I love you."

"I love you."

"No, I mean I'm in love with you. Every part of you."

"You stole the words right out of my mouth," he laughs.

The elevator doors open and the smile is lost from your face. The entire BAU floor is covered with people from the military. Something is happening but you're not sure what. No one is visually panicking but you can feel it all. Derek and Emily are by the glass doors just watching the chaos.

"What the hell is going on?" you ask and join their side. "Why is the Military here?"

Without stopping to talk to anyone, you head into the briefing room where JJ, Rossi, Hotch, and some strange woman are.

"What is going on?"

"Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens with the CDC."

"Hello. I'm sorry to meet under these circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Spencer asks.

"Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after two in the afternoon yesterday. Within ten hours, the first victim died. It's now just past seven in the morning. The next day, we have twelve dead."

You take the files and read through them quickly.

"Lung failure and black lesions. Is this Anthrax? This doesn't kill that fast."

"This strain does."

"What are we doing about potential mass targets like airports, malls, and trains?"

"There's a media blackout."

"We're not telling the public?" Email gasps.

"We'd have a mass exodus. The psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack. If it does get out, whoever did this might go underground or destroy their samples."

"Or if they wanted attention and don't get it, they might attack again. Doesn't the public have the right to know that?"

"I agree with Emily here. The public has a right to know this," you agree.

"If there is another attack, there's no way we'll be able to keep it quiet. Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can. What do we know about this strain?"

"The spores are weaponized, reduced to a respirable ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. It's odorless and invisible. This is a sophisticated strain. Only a scientist would know how to do that."

"These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours."

"It's not the lesions I'm worried about, it's the lungs. We don't know how to combat the toxins once they're inside. The reality is, we may lose them all. The remaining survivors have been moved to a special wing at Walter Reed Hospital. I'd like for your offices to become a small command center."

"We'll be working with military scientists from Fort Detrick," Hotch says.

"General Whitworth is coming here?" Rossi asks.

"He's in charge of site containment and spore analysis. Determining what strain this is will help inform who's responsible."

"My team is in charge of treating all victims," Linda informs.

"Reid and Y/N, go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital and interview the victims. Morgan and Prentiss, there's a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene." Linda brings in some pills for everyone in the room. "This is Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go."

"We don't know if it's effective against this strain, but it's something."

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and grab one of the cups. You look over at JJ who is trying to suppress her concern. As soon as she takes it, she leaves and heads to her office to be alone. You know she's worried about her family. If she can't tell the public, then she can't tell her family about the risks.

Before you can go to the hospital, you need the files on all the victims who have been affected by this strain. JJ has all the files, so you and Spencer follow her to her office. She is looking at her phone with a look of concern on her face.

"Do you have the files on the victims?" Spencer asks.

"Did you see this memo from the director? Office phones and emails are being monitored."

"Yeah, they're trying to protect the media blackout. Files?"

"Right here."

She hands them over to him.

"Thanks. I want to see what kind of medical treatment the victims received before we head to the hospital."

There had been another strain of Anthrax that was going around in 2001 where the suspect put the Anthrax on envelopes. It affected a lot of people but it was never this deadly.

"Why do you think the suspect in 2001 stopped sending the letters?" JJ asks about the previous incident.

"I have no idea, but if he hadn't, it would have been much worse."

"The worst part was not knowing when it was gonna be over. You know, feeling safe opening mail again."

"Five people died. Many more were exposed and gotten sick including a baby who was admitted into the hospital after lesions appeared on his skin."

"How did he contract it?" JJ asks worriedly.

"I have no idea. The baby must have come into close contact with a tainted letter or crossed paths with the unsub himself."

"How old was the baby?"

"Seven months."

Fear and panic spike from JJ. She thinks about her own son getting this. She wants nothing more than to contact her family and warn them.

"Did he survive?"

"We gotta go. Dr. Kimura's waiting. I'll call you from the hospital."

"Spence. Did the baby survive?"

"Yeah, but, I mean, that was a curable strain. This thing's entirely different."

"Spencer, you are freaking her out," you whisper. "She has a baby of her own." Spencer goes quiet and decides to leave before he says anything worse. "JJ, listen to me. Henry is going to be fine. Will is going to be fine. I am your son's Godparent, so I say he's going to be just fine. You can't think like that."

"Like what?" she whispers with tears in her eyes.

"Like that. You're going to go home and be with your family who are going to be fine. I love you, but I have to go now. Keep your head up, JJ. They're gonna be fine."

Rossi and Hotch work with General Whitworth and the CIA to figure out what's going on here. The CIA said there are a few overseas terrorist groups with funding and capability for this. The FBI and CIA need to look at anyone who is going to profit from poisoning everyone, especially people who have patents on Anthrax vaccines. Not to mention anyone with access to weaponized spores like people from universities, scholars working in bioweapons research, and employees of labs who keep germ collections.

General Whitworth and his men are trying to decode the strain and learned that the additives used to strengthen the bacterial capsules don't exist at the CIA research labs, and there aren't any known labs to have these substances. He'll provide a list of all scientists in the CIA Anthrax programs just so the FBI can rule out anyone who decides to have a side project.

This unsub is someone who has the ability to manipulate and weaponize Anthrax, so it doesn't matter what General Whitworth's views are on the BAU. Someone above him believes in the power of profiles, so he has no choice but to listen to orders.

You and Spencer reach the hospital with the people who are sick with Anthrax. The public doesn't know what is going on so there isn't a lot of panic going around, but the ones that are affected are struggling very hard. There is only one person who is well enough to answer some questions since most others are either dead or close to being dead. Dr. Linda Kimura leads you and Spencer to Abby Belle's room.

"Hi, Abby," Linda says gently. "Are you feeling any better?" She shakes her head no. "This is Agent Reid and Y/N from the FBI. If you can, will you talk with them?"

This time, she nods. You walk around to the other end of the bed and hold out your hand for her to take. She doesn't know what's going on but what harm would this do? She lifts her hand just enough for you to slip your hand underneath.

"Abby, I'd like to try to do a memory recall exercise with you to take you back to the park, if that's okay." She nods. "I need you to close your eyes." She does. "Yesterday afternoon, you rode your bicycle to the park. How did the sun feel on your skin? The breeze through your hair? Can you describe for me what you heard and the people that you saw?"

"It was warm... windy," she whispers. You allow her words to take you back to that day. The park was in full effect with a bunch of people enjoying the sun. There is a game of men playing football, kids swinging on the playground, dogs running around with each other, people on bikes, and others walking the trail. "There were guys playing football... Kids... I see free... Me seen fee me. Free knee."

Her speech is screwed up from whatever the Anthrax is doing to her, and she is panicking.

"It's alright, Abby. You just rest now," Linda says.

"Me mock fee key me free," she whimpers.

"Just rest, Abby. Thank you."

You, Spencer, and Linda leave her room to give the doctors an opportunity to work on Abby.

"What's causing her aphasia?"

"The poison is infecting the parietal lobe which impairs her speech. Some of the other patients displayed the same symptoms shortly before they died."

"There's nothing that is helping them? Nothing is working?" you ask.

"The only thing that's helping them right now is the morphine."

Emily and Derek reached the park in Maryland which has been closed for observation. Emily is against not telling the public about this, but she isn't in a position of authority to make that call. So, instead of telling people the truth, officials have told the public there is Methane buildup in the sewage system. Since they're oblivious as to what's going on, they believed it.

There is a certain spot in the park that has high levels of Anthrax where the unsub most likely released the attack. The wind spread the Anthrax around the park and hit everyone who was there. It's weird because you didn't think that a park would be a target for anything. Terrorists usually target symbols like the White House, Pentagon, and the World Trade Center. The park is nice but it's nothing like a symbol building.

It could be symbolic for the unsub like how Ted Kaczynski sent bombs to Berkley where he taught, to Michigan where he went to school, and to Chicago where he lived. The suspect who attacked with Anthrax in 2001 sent letters to two pro-choice senators whose politics he opposed. People like that can't help but attach a personal motive to the places they've targeted, so this park must mean something to the unsub.

In the last two hours alone, more people have come into the hospital seeking medical attention for being sick, and the panic and fear are getting to you. No one knows what's going on, and humans fear the unknown. You're trying hard not to let it get to you but for someone with your abilities, it's hard.

You wipe your eyes before the tears have a chance to fall, and Spencer takes you off to the side.

"Hey, it's going to be okay."

"Is it? How do you know?"

"I don't," he sighs. "I have hope that we're going to figure this out because we always do."

"I wish that'd give me comfort." You look around the hospital and see parents hugging their sick children and people comforting their loved ones. "Promise me you won't do something stupid."

"What?"

"We're the only ones that know what's going on. Please don't do anything stupid. This is your life. I can't bear the thought of losing you. Please be careful."

"Only if you promise to do the same."

"Sorry to interrupt, but this whole thing is baffling me. Seventeen out of twenty-five people are dead. This strain is duplicated every thirty to forty-five minutes. It's poisoning the lungs and causing massive hemorrhaging and organ failure."

"Whoever created this had to at some point go to the trouble of testing it. First, they start with rodents, then advance to larger mammals, and then they do a very small trial run with people. There's no way this was his first human test run."

"We would have heard about a previous anthrax attack," Linda says.

"Not if it presented itself as something else," you state. "Is there anything that happened recently that was kind of like what's happening now?"

"Yeah, actually."

She tells you what happened a couple of days ago and gives you files on the patients affected. Your phone rings and you and Spencer go into an empty hospital room to answer the phone. You place JJ on speakerphone.

"Hey, JJ."

"Hey, you have me, Hotch, and Rossi."

She sounds like she's been crying because she is so worried about her family. She can't tell them anything but she wants to so badly.

"JJ, are you okay?"

She doesn't comment.

"It turns out that two days ago, two people in two separate Baltimore ERs, and one person in a Philadelphia ER slipped into comas and died suddenly. The COD on all of them was meningitis. Doctors didn't test for Anthrax because the illnesses presented themselves as meningitis, but I think it can be caused by Anthrax."

"Did they show symptoms that we're seeing now like the lesions?"

"They wouldn't have if the bodily functions expired as quickly as they did."

"How quickly?"

"They were all dead within three hours of being admitted."

"Wait, the first patient died yesterday at ten in the morning."

"If they inhaled a higher concentration of the strain, it would cause a quicker death through organ failure without exterior physical symptoms."

"What are their names?"

Spencer looks through the files. You can feel JJ's sadness through the phone. You'd love nothing more than to tell Hannah about what's going on, but she's in New Jersey and likely won't be affected. Will and Henry live right in the danger zone.

"JJ, listen to me. I need you to breathe. Henry is going to be fine and so is Will. You're going to go home and see your family. You need to tell yourself this."

"Okay, their names are Gale Mercer who was thirty-one, Martha Finestein who was forty-eight, and Albert Franks who was fifty-two."

"Did they visit the same place on the day they were affected?"

"Gale made a credit card purchase at a bookstore owned by Albert."

"We'll send Morgan and Prentiss out there to investigate."

"Remember, JJ, breathe," you say before hanging up.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[richincolor]

Book Review of A Crane Among Wolves by June Hur (허주은)

Summary: Hope is dangerous. Love is deadly.

1506, Joseon. The people suffer under the cruel reign of the tyrant King Yeonsan, powerless to stop him from commandeering their land for his recreational use, banning and burning books, and kidnapping and horrifically abusing women and girls as his personal playthings.

Seventeen-year-old Iseul has lived a sheltered, privileged life despite the kingdom’s turmoil. When her older sister, Suyeon, becomes the king’s latest prey, Iseul leaves the relative safety of her village, traveling through forbidden territory to reach the capital in hopes of stealing her sister back. But she soon discovers the king’s power is absolute, and to challenge his rule is to court certain death.

Prince Daehyun has lived his whole life in the terrifying shadow of his despicable half-brother, the king. Forced to watch King Yeonsan flaunt his predation through executions and rampant abuse of the common folk, Daehyun aches to find a way to dethrone his half-brother once and for all. When staging a coup, failure is fatal, and he’ll need help to pull it off—but there’s no way to know who he can trust.

When Iseul's and Daehyun's fates collide, their contempt for each other is transcended only by their mutual hate for the king. Armed with Iseul’s family connections and Daehyun’s royal access, they reluctantly join forces to launch the riskiest gamble the kingdom has ever seen:

Save her sister. Free the people. Destroy a tyrant.

Review: [Cruel tyrant is not an exaggeration so there is a content warning in the author's note that indicates the following: rape (mentioned), sexual abuse, misogyny, kidnapping women and girls, sex trafficking, incest (mentioned), violence, murder, animal cruelty, suicide (mentioned), infanticide (mentioned), psychological trauma, and panic attacks.]

Though this story is fiction, the setting and King Yeonsan are part of actual history. June Hur has not tidied up his tyrannical behavior so there are a lot of atrocities to witness in Iseul and Daehyun's path. This does make for a difficult read, but there is also love and strength that shine through. The dedication says, "To those who have dared to be a beacon of light in the bleakest of moments." There are numerous characters who are that light for others and even in the midst of so much awfulness, there is hope. That's what kept me reading.

Iseul's life has turned upside down and she has realized that she had taken her sister for granted. She is out on her own for the first time and is making brave and rash decisions because she seemingly is unaware of how truly risky and deadly her choices might be. Watching some of her actions is hard, but as she stumbles and begins to find her feet, she is also making connections with some folks who are those beacons of light.

It is equally troubling to watch Daehyun make decisions when there really are no  actions to choose that feel truly right. My heart was with both of them knowing that they really were doing the best with their circumstances even when there were no good options. And even when they pick a way that seems best, there is endless frustration as they continue to face horrifying loss and disappointment. Many characters in this story, in addition to so many Korean people in that time period,  dealt with a feeling encompassed in the word han. In the book it's described as the "feeling of outrage, the vicious urge for vengeance to right the wrong, pierced by the acute pain and grief of knowing our overwhelming odds at ever claiming justice."

Yes, the odds seem overwhelming, but Iseul, Daehyun and their allies continue to fight, sacrifice, and are willing to give their all to try anyway. They are all inspired by the Korean people, their families, loved ones, and the hope of creating a more peaceful place for all. Some of these allies are so wonderful and even though they are side characters, they managed to worm their way into my heart too. In the midst of all of the effort of so many people, there are also intrigues and mysteries to puzzle out so it's definitely a page turner.

Recommendation: Get it now. For those who watch historical K-dramas already, this will definitely be a must read. For others, this will appeal to anyone who enjoys history with some romance and political intrigue. Though it shows a lot of trauma and hardship, June Hur also provided characters that will touch hearts and stay with readers for a long time to come.

Extras:

Publisher: Feiwel & Friends Pages: 368 Review copy: Digital ARC via publisher Availability: On shelves now

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

He was not ready, neither was I.

I initially planned to make a very long post explaining why I feel so much during the reunion scene in Brokilon between Jaskier and Geralt, but in the words of the bard himself: plans have changed...

So I won't detail the 5 emotional shocks he goes through that leads to his almost breakdown when he see Geralt so hurt. I will take just the third and the fifth because there are linked and they have roots in the first two seasons.

If we put the feelings aside, Jaskier is our miroir inside the movie for a part of how we perceive Geralt. This is not "through him" but more "like him".

We are linked by what we know and what we believe.

Geralt, to many aspects, is the ultimate warrior and painted like a force of nature, from the very first frames. We witness him defeat strong monsters, fight many ennemis at the same time, even survive nearly fatal wounds (strigga).

During his many years on the road with him, Jaskier has witnessed too those skills and has gathered informations about the fights he didn't see (S1 : knows every stories behind his scars, takes notes from the witnesses).

Like us he has built a strong belief that Geralt is unbeatable when it comes to fight. He trusts him to come out victorious. And this is shown several times through the series.

Mostly S1 with some little reminders in S2 and S3 :

From their first adventure, he believes in his mutant skills, he doesn't know shit about, to get them out of the tricky situation.

But then he overlooks at his victories :

S1 : A Selkiemore has swallow him, naaaahh he is fine and has the confirmation bias when Geralt reappears very much alive covered in the monster's guts. A dragon hunt, sure ! Several agressive dwarves ? It's OK, Geralt can take them in his sleep.

S3 : Geralt gambles with his life to obtain informations ? He doesn't worry for a second and even laughs at how easy it is.

S2 : Even when he is tortured, this is what he says about him : Geralt has no weaknesses.

Sure he has a protective side to him too and he fears sometimes for the witcher. Also he has probably seen him wounded before. But since, in their more than 25 years shared history, Geralt has never been defeated, he is the heros he cannot imagine to fall. Very much like us.

But no-one is unbreakable, even the strongest hero... Much like in the books, this is what we learn from the Vilgefortz fight.

So here comes the third shock for Jaskier. Shock that makes him having an emotional roller-coaster but doesn't shake his inner believes.

Quitting Radovid who told him Ciri is probably dead, he learns from Yennefer that there is hope for her but that Geralt has been sent by Triss in Brokilon to heal and that he may die from his injuries.

But there is what he knows and believes that comes in between that sinister fact. And this is confirmed in the reunion scene later. Jaskier knows that Triss has already healed a deadly wounded Geralt so why not this time, right ?

And there comes the fifth shock : reality.

As spectators, we know before him how bad it is and in which gloomy mindset the witcher is (he wants to die, just as a sweet reminder...). So when Jaskier catches up everything, trying to hold back the cascading emotions, failing multiple time, but still trying to be strong for his friend, it hurts. (Or at least I do, I don't know about you).

That very first moment, especially, when he cannot hold his lute, while trying to keep control, is brutal to me, because this is when emotional pain is so strong that it becomes physical pain.

And there is nothing that prepares him to confront a still deadly wounded Geralt when he entered the hut. There is nothing to undo his inner preconceptions beforehand. To the best, Milva just says : he is not well. Which Jaskier seems to take like his friend probably depressed to be stuck here healing. So he is just bracing himself to deliver a bad news under normal circumstances, not having to do this dealing with raw emotions he is barely able to keep in.

I remember crying on this scene, because I was in sync with Jaskier's emotions. I was fearing his reaction and it was harder than what I anticipated, pretty much like him facing his friend.

[mdzsshoujo]

MDZS Shoujo Mashup Master List

We made a list of all the amazing works made for the MDZS Shoujo Mashup!

ART

Artist: Frania (teleport warning)

General Description: Yunmeng siblings run a maid cafe

View on Bluesky

Artist: Frania (teleport warning)

General Description: Clow Cards (Cardcaptor Sakura), WangXian as The Time and The Return

View on Bluesky

Artist: HellingLaozu

General Description: magical swords WangXian (collaboration with spookykingdomstarlight, art accompaniment to "Help!!! I'm a Broke College Student How Did I End Up With a (Hot) Amnesiac Sword Spirit For a Sugar Baby??!??")

Chapter 1 art on Bluesky and Tumblr

Chapter 2 art on Bluesky and Tumblr

Artist: littleartbot

General description: Magical girls Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing and MianMian

View on Tumblr

Artist: lychee (lycheeeart)

General description: "welcome to 'burial mound oddities and antiquities'" 🪭✨

View on Bluesky and Tumblr

Artist: Niq (skuzzybunny)

General description: modern au accidentally drunk teenji and his magical animal companion silkie chickens

View on Bluesky

Artist: YaYa (terabyte-my-ass)

General description: Cloud Recesses Host Club

View on Bluesky

FICS and THREADFICS

Author: em (gusufan) - threadfic WIP

Summary: Lan Jingyi is sick of watching Wangxian pining for each other, so he convinces Jiang Cheng to help him get them together. (He doesn’t expect to fall for him in the process) Additional Details: CW: strong language probably? (it's JC 🙄)

View on Bluesky

Dawn of the Red Lotus by Raine (rainewritesfanfics)

Summary: Wei Ying is hiding something, and Lan Zhan can do nothing but watch and worry as Wei Ying's smile stretches thinner and more bandages peek out from his hems. When he finds himself entangled with the city's young superhero, he realizes that answers may be closer than he realizes, and that the Red Lotus may not be the only one with magic in his veins. Additional Details: featuring magical boy Wei Ying, tea shop waiter LWJ, and a deadly family curse 😱

Read on AO3

Promo on Tumblr

So, You Think I'm Pretty? by Sour Tea (lordoflemons)

Summary: Lan Zhan takes on a role as a maid at Caiyi Cafe, a maid cafe his friend had introduced him to. Far from his school, he thought no one would find out about his part-time job until one day, classmates he knew too well came to visit. Now one of them has taken an interest in the shop and has become a regular. This person also happens to be his deskmate, Wei Ying, and he seems to have a keen interest in Lan Zhan's alter-ego 'Jiji'. Has Wei Ying figured out it's him or does he really like maid cafes? Guess the only way to find out is to go on a date with him.

Read on SquidgeWorld

Read on AO3

Promo on Bluesky

Help!!! I'm a Broke College Student How Did I End Up With a (Hot) Amnesiac Sword Spirit For a Sugar Baby??!?? by Spooky (spookykingdomstarlight)

Summary: Wei Ying is a normal first-year college student. He lives with his parents. He gets good grades. He has friends. Or a friend, at least. Everything is going well, at least until a stunning man in hanfu with white hair manifests right in front of his eyes on a field trip. Suddenly he’s stuck introducing a sword spirit to the modern world, dealing with a mystery involving metal shards appearing all over Jiangsu province, and grappling with the possibility that Siri from his old phone might be sentient. What’s a normal first-year college student supposed to do under these circumstances? He dives right in, of course. ⚔️ sword spirits ⚔️ reincarnation ⚔️ tragedy with a happy ending ⚔️ siri

Read on SquidgeWorld

Read on AO3

Promo on Bluesky

Unusual Gifts by Toshokanin

Summary: At a critical moment in canon, Luo Qingyang, Wen Qing, and Jiang Yanli each receive a magical gift. But will it be enough to change the course of events? 🔮 CQL canon divergence ✨ Magical Girls ❓ Ambiguous/hopeful ending

Read on AO3

Promo on Bluesky

OTHER WORKS

WIP teaser: jes (francowitch)

The word of the week was "friends"

View on Bluesky

Picrew: Niq (skuzzybunny)

A Shoujo-ifier for all your MDZS favorites

Picrew Dollmaker

Promo on Bluesky

You can also view the list on our carrd:

If you have any late works you want to add, just send us a message!

[horseforeplay]

hi, is the long covid and basically what youve been talking about recently applies worldwide or its the us issue? i didnt see much about it in like disabled groups or in general in my country but now im concerned i mightve just not dig deep enough? are there any resources i can look into? youre welcomed to tell me to fuck off but also thank you in advance

hi! yes, c19 has gone endemic globally. i'm not sure what country you're in, but if you believe that covid is no longer a problem where you are, chances are that your government is deliberately minimizing a deadly disease. leaders want you to get back to work. disabled people are forced to shelter-in-place indefinitely (just like the rest of the world decided was a nightmare to do temporarily). if you look around and only see maskless people, it may be easy to conclude that no one is masking anymore because they don't have to. the reality is that high-risk people have been pushed even more deeply into the fringes as the virus is free to mutate and become more transmissible. even countries that had more effective shutdowns than the US are seeing an uptick in cases, though those numbers remain less steep. i hope you don't mind if i use this ask to say a lot of things.

here's one link: did u know the spanish flu was called the spanish flu because spain was neutral during WWI and therefore was the first country to break the news? it didn't originate in spain. it was all over europe. the allied powers did not want to "ruin wartime morale" by telling anyone living in those countries that a deadly virus was in their midst. we're in a surreal fucking situation, where the death count was alarming enough in the first year of c19 that governments were forced to react at first, but have now successfully propagandized the majority of the world into believing that it ended. it never ended. (and world leaders and billionaires know it -- they are still protecting themselves. nobody gets to meet joe biden without a PCR test. temporary air filtration systems get installed at high schools where he makes speeches, then taken down when he leaves.) it's not "like the flu" (though the flu kills and disables people every year!). there's no such thing as a "summer flu". it's not like a cold. it's now been able to mutate to look more like a cold (dominant variants no longer have the hallmark fever or even coughing symptoms), but it is a disease that attacks every system in the body. even a mild case can give you organ damage you won't know about until something goes wrong with your body. we are only in year three of this thing. we (and i mean everyone) are flying blind. we don't have any idea what people's life expectancies are going to look like down the line. certainly not for long covid patients.

regardless of pushes to "return to normal", it is becoming abundantly clear (right now, mostly only to those most greatly affected by c19) that there is nothing to go back to. we are puppeteering the limbs of a dead world. now that we understand how masks mitigate the spread of disease, why are nurses cheering and fucking clapping when we remove them again from hospitals? as climate change becomes worse and worse, we are staring down a world where we are meant to accept that the death of "some people" (see: other people) is inevitable. it is not. the preventative action that you take against c19 is preparing you wildfire smoke and the next virus the warming planet helps spread.

resources? resources. here is a great political breakdown of what is happening, called let them eat plague. good reading if you consider yourself a communist or would like to be one. here, too, is an archived version of an atlantic article on what CE/MFS looks like (one of the long covid health outcomes i am living with).

most of my resources center on US handling of the pandemic, but eugenic capitalism is a global problem. unfortunately, i'm not a great collector of links to things i've read even under the best of circumstances. it's just not a strong suit. adding this to the reality that i have been close to bed-bound by long covid for the last three weeks, and i'm just not gonna transform into a great link guy. i'm sorry about this. there are covid activists who are much better at sharing external resources than i am, but we are in the phase of c19 now where most of the people organizing right now are also sick themselves. so, many of them have a tendency to disappear, or struggle to keep pages up-to-date. some key phrases i might search for on social media for local groups might be "covid aware" or "covid safe", to see if something for your location pops up. i know there are groups in the netherlands, ireland, and australia pushing for covid education and a better world for those disabled by the pandemic.

i think many people are having difficulty understanding how many people have died of c19. for scale, an accepted figure for total global AIDS deaths (as of 2017) is 940,000. that's just under a million. it would be a whole hell of a lot more if not for continuous direct political action (thank you ACT UP), but people (especially in sub-saharan africa) continue to die today. C19 deaths in 2020 alone were at three million. in 2023 we are at over 6.9 million. the crisis never fucking ended. that is over 6.9 million deaths, and counting, in a "post-vaccine" world. (a vaccine is not a fucking cure).  i think part of what we are seeing right now is that the people who care the most are fucking shaken. most of us are just stunned. estimates show TEN MILLION people are living with long covid in the united states alone. TEN MILLION!!!! JUST IN THE STATES!

vaccines are not a cure. i will keep repeating this until somebody understands it. vaccines are not a cure. vaccines do not cure c19, no matter where you live in the world. vaccines are also becoming less and less accessible as the public "learns to live with" the virus. some people will never be eligible for vaccines. vaccines make many people living with long covid much sicker (as happened to me). i will continue advocating for vaccines, as i advocate for all precautionary measures (like nasal sprays which i am also allergic to since long covid can cause MCAS), but it needs to be said that many many people cannot access or safely use these measures. world governments would like you to believe that a high tech intervention (vaccines) have saved us from having to bother with uncomfortable low-tech measures (masking). resist this. i was double boosted and healthy when i had my first (and only, to my knowledge) covid infection in september of 2022. i am 27 years old and this virus has disabled me.

i was also masking frequently in public when i caught covid. masks are a bit like car seatbelts; it's a smart fucking idea, but you can still crash. this is an imperfect comparison, though, since then your seatbelt would also be protecting your passengers and other drivers. when the burden of masking falls only on vulnerable people, everybody gets fucked. one-way masking is safer than not masking, but it's not half as effective.

there is no known cure for long covid. that means that doctors will tell long covid patients that they do not know what is wrong with them at every turn, oftentimes disbelieving, minimizing, and recommending treatments (like exercise and weight loss) that can leave patients bed-bound or dead. any covid infection can become long covid, in any person, at any age, and your chances of developing long covid INCREASE EXPONENTIALLY with each infection --building immunity with repeat infections is an insidious and deadly myth. covid infections compound. how many times are people expected to get this fucking virus?

when you are in public, the chances that you are either around a high-risk person or around someone who is in close contact with a high-risk person is almost 100%. break every goddamn transmission chain you possibly can.

invest in an N95 (or better) mask. here is a link to where i buy mine. governments should provide these, as well as free access to vaccines and testing sites and medicine for acute infections, but we are in the phase now where major pushes for activism are only barely getting their land legs while the majority covers their ears and goes on laughing and drinking and dancing. be there when the screams get loud enough. add your voice, help the day come sooner, so less children get long covid at school and less friends get heart attacks at 30 and less grandparents disappear and lovers you used to enjoy dining with lose their sense of smell and taste forever. there will be greater collective action as this moves closer to home for more people. but in the meantime.

live compassionately. as the world moves on, we need people everywhere to start fighting back. take action for people who can't (cuz people who should be in bed resting or processing all this fucking grief are being forced to act and can feel very alone).

this is one ask and i will probably post more later but tumblr dot com is just not my primary outlet for activism or expression lol. i have mainly used this page to vent a few times because i am quite literally trapped in my house unable to work. but it's my silly blog where i go to be silly. i hope any of this was helpful to you or anybody reading.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Ruki Dark [Epilogue]

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

ー The scene starts in the guest room at Eden

Ruki: ...

*Flip*

Yui: ( Ruki-kun is reading a book again. Nothing new there but...Shouldn’t he go to bed soon? )

( Still, I’d feel bad for interrupting him. He seems to be focused after all...I wonder what kind of book he’s reading? )

Ruki: ...Would you like to say something? 

Yui: Eh? 

Ruki: You tend to make that kind of expression whenever you have something to tell me. Am I wrong?

Yui: ...You know me well.

Ruki: I’ve learnt to read your expressions from spending so much time together. So, what’s wrong?

Yui: It isn’t necessarily something I need to say but...I was just wondering what kind of book you’re reading.

Ruki: One you would never understand.

Yui: ...Perhaps not. 

Ruki: I was only teasing you. No need to sulk. 

This is a poetry collection written by a French poet.

Yui: What’s written in there? 

Ruki: To put it simply, there are a lot of poems which center around the topic of immorality. 

According to this poet’s words, all humans are being manipulated by the Devil. 

Yui: D-Demons...?

Ruki: Exactly. He calls this Devil ‘Trismégiste’. (1)

I mean, it is not that much of a stretch, is it? Vampires do exist after all. 

I am sure that all living creatures on Earth have fallen captive to this Devil he speaks of. That is why they continue to commit deadly sins.

Yui: ...Deadly sins...

Ruki: It might also be the Devil’s fault...that I continue to keep you by my side like this.

Yui: ...It wasn’t what you wanted, was it?

( To keep Eve by his side despite not being Adam is a form of betrayal. That’s why it was never his true intention. )

( I’ve always been aware of that but knowing that Ruki-kun never wished for this outcome...makes me really sad. )

Ruki: ...I believe I phrased myself badly. Listen carefully, Yui. 

While it may have been the tempting whispers of the Devil at first. Still, right now the situation has completely changed. It is my own decision to not let you go. 

Yui: ...Thank god. 

Ruki: That should have been obvious by now, no? That’s why...I didn’t think you’d take my words so literally.

Yui: You always talk in riddles...There’s times where I can no longer tell your jokes from the truth.

Ruki: ...In that case, I shall tell you upfront.

ー Ruki steps closer

Ruki: I do not have the slightest intention of handing you over to someone else. ...You belong only to me, Yui.

Not even the Devil can have you...

*TIMESKIP*

ー A flashback ensues

Ruki: ...

( ...I can’t sleep. )

*Rustle* 

Ruki: ( I feel very much awake today...I suppose I should just get out of bed and read a bookーー )

*Rustle rustle*

Ruki: ( ...? There’s a lot of noise. Who could it be at this hour? )

Ruki’s Father: ーー Oi! Is anyone there!?

Ruki: ( Eh? ...Father? I thought he had left for the city for a meeting...? I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to be back until the day after tomorrow? )

( Did the meeting end earlier than he expected? ...Oh well. I suppose I’ll use the opportunity to go say hello to him. )

ー The scene shifts to the living room of Ruki’s old home

Ruki’s Father: Oi, I want booze...Bring me a bottle.

Servant: Not to be rude, Sir, but it appears that you have already had quite a bit to drink, so you probably shouldn’t...

Ruki’s Father: Silence! You’re going to talk back to me!? Just bring me a bottle already!

*CRASH*

Servant: ...My sincere apologies. I shall bring you some at once...!

ー The servant runs off

Ruki’s Father: Damnit, what a bunch of incompetent fools...!

Ruki’s Mother: Dear...Did something happen at work, perhaps...?

Ruki’s Father: This is more than a little something! Some random fucker I had never even heard of before showed up and got ahead of me!

That guy...He appeared out of nowhere a couple of days ago and has already become one of the president’s favorites...!

He whispered a couple of sweet words into the president’s ear and had me removed by the president himself! How am I supposed to stay positive under these circumstances!? 

Does he have any idea how hard I worked to be able to climb my way up as just a simple merchant!? Yet that guy had the nerve to...!

That filthy swindler...What kind of dirty trick did he use!?

*SHATTER*

Ruki’s Mother: ...D-Dear! You’ll wake up our son...!

Ruki’s Father: Shut up!

...Fufu...Ahaha! Can you believe this? From what I’ve heard, that guy has sold his soul to the Devil. 

No...I actually think he is the Devil himself.

Just you watch...I shall reveal his true intentions and show the president that he’s nothing but a dirty crook!

*THUD*

Ruki’s Father: I will become the President’s right-hand man! I won’t give up that position to anyone else! To nobody!!

Ruki’s Mother: D-Dear, please stop!

Ruki’s Father: Don’t get in my way!!

*SMACK*

Ruki’s Mother: ...!

Servant: Madam!

*Thud*

Servant: Please step back, Sir! I cannot believe you would harm your own wife...!

Ruki’s Father: Shut up! Don’t defy me!!

That swindler...The Devil...Trismégiste, I shall be the one to drive him out of this country!!

*Rustle* 

Ruki: ...Ugh...

ー A young Ruki runs away

Monologue

ーー Up until that point,

Father had always been a kind man in my eyes.

As his son, he had always spoiled me,

as I could not even recall one time he had ever scolded me.

That is exactly why ーー I was shaking in fear,

when I saw him rage that night.

For the first time in my life, I felt fear towards my Father,

as at the same time, I found myself thinking: ‘Who is that man?’

That man who stood there yelling with a glazed look in his eyes,

hurting my mother by raising his hand at herーー

It was almost like I was looking at the Devil himself. 

However, when I timidly sat down at the table the next morning,

the person who greeted me there,

was my usual, kind Father.

That is why I made myself believe. 

It must have all been a dream. 

And that who I saw ーー was not the Devil. 

ー Ruki wakes up from a dream in the guest room at Eden

*Rustle* 

Ruki: ...!

Haah...haah...

...What a horrible dream...

ー The scene shifts to the bathroom

Ruki: ( ...I thought I had stopped dreaming about the past. )

( It must be a bad joke to have such a dream at a time like this... )

...Trismégiste.

( I had forgotten about it up till now...No, I tried to ban it from my memories. )

Monologue

Father ーー My real Father,

he deeply despised a certain individual. 

A man who shared the same name,

as the Devil who appears in that poetry collection...Trismégiste. 

I wonder if he was actually called that? 

Or perhaps Father simply used it as an analogy,

to compare him to the Devil...?

I still do not know to this day.

However, back then,

I truly thought of my own Father as the Devil. 

Seeing him drown in his own desire, having lost sight of himself,

it was truly horrifying. 

Ruki: ( That dream...It feels almost like it’s trying to tell me something about myself. )

( If my Father was the Devil, then I also have that blood running through my veinsーー )

...!

*Thud*

*Shatter* 

Ruki: ...Ridiculous.

It is simply outrageous to assume that a Vampire is being possessed by the Devil...

It is only humans such as my Father...who can fall victim to the Devil known as Trismégiste... 

ー The scene shifts to the entrance hall

Ruki: ( ...I have to stop the bleeding. If Yui sees my hand, she’ll make a fuss againーー )

ー Yuma walks up to him

Yuma: Oh, Ruki. Whatcha doin’ here this late at night?

Ruki: Yuma...What are you doing here then?

Yuma: I was havin’ trouble fallin’ asleep so I figured I’d get some exercise...Wait, what the fuck happened to yer hand!?

Ruki: This is...nothing.

Yuma: Haah? 

...Look, if ya really think that it’s nothin’ when there’s blood gushin’ out like crazy, then you’re seriously bonkers.

Ruki: ...Good point. I must have surely gone crazy right now.

Yuma: ...Oi. Don’t put so much pressure on yerself, mate. It’s a bad habit of yers.

Ruki: What are you trying to say? 

Yuma: The Adam thing is weighin’ heavy on yer mind, isn’t it?

Ruki: ...Did she tell you?

Yuma: I don’t need to ask anyone to figure that one out. How long do ya think we’ve been bros for?

Knowin’ ya, I bet you’re frettin’ ‘bout it? 

Ruki: ...Whatever goes on inside my head is none of your business. Leave me alone.

Yuma: Aah? No need to act like that when I’m worried ‘bout ya, right?

Ruki: I don’t remember ever asking for your concern. If you understand that, then mind your own business. Do not make me repeat myself. 

Yuma: ...Listen mate, then maybe ya shouldn’t act in a way that’ll make us worried ‘bout ya?

Even right now ya look like a hot mess! Maybe you should take a good look in the mirror first before ya spout that sorta cocky bullshit!

Ruki: ...

ー Ruki grabs hold of his collar

*Rustle*

Ruki: Remember, you’re the younger brother here, so don’t speak like you know me!

Yuma: Che...Ya stubborn blockhead! Do I need to punch ya first before you’ll actually snap back to reality!? 

Ruki: Punch me then!

ー Kou and Azusa walk up to them

Kou: Geez~ ...It’s the middle of the night, can’t you pipe down a liーー Wait, what are you two doing!?

Azusa: An argument...?

Kou: Hey, Yuma-kun! I don’t know what happened, but let go of him!

Yuma: Shut up! Ya guys back off! Words just don’t work on this fool over here!

Ruki: Excuse me...!? 

Azusa: Yuma, calm down...! You too, Ruki, why are you so upset...?

Kou: Exactly! I’m not so much surprised about Yuma-kun but this isn’t like you, Ruki-kun!?

Ruki: ...!

Yuma: There’s no talkin’ to him! With guys like him ya need to...!

*THUD*

Ruki: Guh...!

ー Ruki collapses

*Thud*

Azusa: Ruki!

Yuma: They just don’t understand unless ya give ‘em a good ol’ beatin’! Isn’t that so, Ruki!?

Ruki: Yuma, youーー ...!

*SCENE SHIFT*

Yui: ( Ruki-kun...He wasn’t there when I woke up. I wonder where he ran off to? )

( Also, there seems to be a commotion going on up ahead...? I wonder if somebody else is also awake? )

Kou: Cut it out already, you two!!

Yui: ( Was that...Kou-kun just now? )

Ruki: Stay out of it, Kou!

Yui: ( Ruki-kun as well!? Don’t tell me they’re fighting over something...!? )

ー Yui runs up to them

Yui: You guys!? What are you doing...!? 

Ruki: Oh...

Yui: Ruki-kun!? You’re bleeding from your mouth...! And your hand is covered in blood as well!? What on earth happened...!? 

Ruki: ...This is nothing for you to worry abouーー

Yuma: There ya go again! Seems like ya could still use a couple more punches!

Yui: You punched him...!? 

Yuma: Yeah, exactly! Got a problem with that, huh!? 

That fool over there was frettin’ by himself while tryin’ to act like nothin’s wrong so I gave him a reality check!

Kou: Oh come on, Yuma-kun! Calm down already!

Ruki: ...

...You can take it however you want. 

But I was just doing what I always do. Then he started to insult me.That’s all.

Yuma: Ruki, you bastard...!

Ruki: ...I’ve had enough. 

*Rustle*

Yuma: Wait! You’re runnin’ away now!? ...Why don’t you get it!?

Ruki: ...Unlike you, I’ve got more than just one brain cell.

ー Ruki walks away

Yui: Ruki-kun!

Yuma: ...Fuck! Just leave that idiot be!

Yui: ( Why...? I can’t believe they would get in such an argument when they’ve always been so close...! )

Wait, Ruki-kun!

ー Yui runs after him

Yuma: ...That stupid big bro of mine...

*SCENE SHIFT*

Yui: Ruki-kun! Hey, hold up!

Please, talk to me. What exactly happened...!? 

Ruki: Didn’t I just tell you? It isn’t anything serious. 

Yui: Don’t say that! You must have had a proper reason to get into such a big fight, right!?

Ruki: ...Why do you think that?

Yui: Why, you ask...? I mean, because it’s nothing like you.

Ruki: ...So even you are saying the same thing now.

Yui: Eh...?

ー Ruki walks away again

Yui: ...I said wait! Where are you going!? 

Ruki: ...

ーー The Sakamaki Castle. 

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) The French poet Ruki refers to here is Charles Baudelaire who is famous for works such as ‘Fleurs du Mal’. 

[psychocharlie]

Charlie has uncle issues

For a month now, Dennis has been staying at the bar late into the night, locking it up himself. He took everyone's keys, leaving only Charlie's copy to open Paddy's in the morning. The Gang resented this and protested, but Dennis was adamant and took away everyone else's keys on the grounds that they were all a bunch of irresponsible shitheads who forgot to lock up the bar. The fact that someone had robbed the cash register one night was also a strong argument for Dennis' rightness (and no one suspected that Dennis was this "someone" who had robbed Paddy's to carry out his plan). So for a month, Dennis staying the longest and closing the bar. Charlie also often lingers, because the bar needed to be cleaned up before closing, which, as everyone knows, is Charlie work.

Of course, Dennis made this scheme so that he and Charlie would have time to be alone and talk about their business without looking suspicious. Especially since the Gang started noticing their odd behavior. Especially Mac. Oh, Mac has become unbearable. Suspicious, obsessive, and jealous. Reynolds should get something much better than this bar trick to distract him. And he was going to do it later.

But that night Charlie left early, while even Mac, Dee, and Frank were still at the bar. His mom called him and begged him tearfully to come over and help her with something, and he left. So it's only been about 15 minutes since everyone left, and Dennis was really getting ready to close up and go home, because Charlie wasn’t there, and Dennis hadn't been doing his «business» in a while. And neither had his friend. After that terrible nervous breakdown in his bad place he hadn't touched a single person yet. 

The man is briefly distracted by his phone before getting up from the counter and walking away. Grinning, he replies to a message from a pretty girl on a dating site he's been DENNIS'ing for a few days, anticipating the inevitable culmination of their dates – first passionate and then bloody, filling his entire being with power and strength. In those moments, he truly felt like the actual Golden God.  Only then did the gaping hole in his chest, the God Hole, cease to ring with its emptiness, and he felt whole. Then and in some other rare moments that Reynolds preferred not to think about.

Before he can even finish the message, the door swings open, causing Dennis to flinch and lift his head, and Charlie plops down behind the bar.

– I'm gonna kill him. – Charlie's voice is hoarse, and he's literally growling, looking sullenly like a beast ready to pounce on you and tear you to pieces. His eyes burn with anger, but it's not a hot flame of rage, it's something colder, even more sinister. Hatred.

Dennis quickly presses the send button, no longer caring what he texted to that sweet fool, and sets the phone aside. All his attention is on Charlie now.

– Who? – His voice is soft and cautious. He pulls a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from under the bar, deciding it is the best choice for the circumstances. «Is that the last thing his victims see?» – wonders Dennis. Charlie, meanwhile, empties a glass of whiskey under his gaze. In one gulp.

– Uncle Jack. 

Dennis sighs heavily and presses his lips together, sipping from his glass. Uncle Jack. Charlie was always out of sorts after seeing him. Usually he just got weird, twitchy or depressed. Sometimes he'd get irritable and start shouting at everyone. But this time it was the real hatred. Cold and full of contempt.

Dennis remains silent, and his buddy pours and drains another glass again. Gradually his face softens, the hatred fading from the green eyes, making way for deadly fatigue and despair and resentment. 

– I want him to die like a goddamn brute. – Voice's desperate, almost whisper. The formerly tense posture of a predator ready to pounce changes as well, Charlie's body slouches, shoulders droop. Then Dennis finally decides to speak, quietly and calmly. 

– I understand, bud, you have every reason to want him dead. He molested you.

Charlie stands up again and screams. Dennis sees the desperation in his eyes. 

– He didn't molest me!

– He did, – Dennis replies quietly yet firmly, bringing the half-empty bottle to his friend's mouth. He presses his lips together, digging his fingernails into the old wooden surface, exhales heavily and, closing his eyes, allows Dennis to get him drunk.

– He did. - His voice sounds like an echo, barely audible repeating Dennis' words as Charlie lowers his head, resting it on the counter. Reynolds flinches. This is the first time Charlie has ever admitted it. They all knew it, but Charlie had always denied it, indignantly and furiously, without admitting it. So had Dennis with his Ms. Klinsky thing. But now Charlie finally admitted it and allowed himself to be vulnerable around him. Dennis drains the rest of his whiskey and patts the bar next to Charlie's shoulder in a reassuring gesture, hesitant to touch him right away.

– Alright... – there’s a pause in the air as Dennis tries to think of what to say now, – you know... do it. You have every right to. 

– I'd like to. – His voice is muffled. – I wanna do it every time he reaches out to me with his creepy hands. He fucking hugged me today. But I can't. 

– Why not?

And Charlie lifts his head and shakes it. He looks now like an abandoned puppy who's lost all hope of finding a home. He sighs heavily and starts to talk. He talks and talks and talks. Talks about how much his mother loves that bastard Jack, how she's cared for him all her life. The stupid bitch throws a little family party of his birthdays and even bakes the cakes for him, but she can't even remember the exact age of her own son, not to mention wishing him a happy birthday. He tells how upset and hysterical she would be if her brother suddenly disappeared. She’d call the police and they would find Charlie. And after him, probably Dennis as well. And Dennis nods, nods, nods, doesn't understand why he didn't think of it himself. Like, it's so obvious and logical. He hadn't thought of it because his mind was busy thinking that Uncle Jack should die in agony like a filthy animal, which he was.

They drink another bottle of whiskey and gradually change the subject. Now they are discussing the failure of the gang's scheme this afternoon and who is to blame (It was all Dee! That bitch is totally unartistic and can't even play such a simple role in our plan!), when suddenly Charlie speaks up and changes his face again:

– But if I ever see him molest a child in person... I'll kill him. And then I won't care about the consequences. I just won't be able to bear it. I'll take a hammer and smash his ugly face in. I'll crack his head like a walnut. I'll hit and hit and hit his head until I stop recognizing him at all. He'll die in agony like an animal, he'll–

Dennis can see that Charlie is about to boil again: his hands are clenched into fists, his eyebrows are drawn together in a broad line, and his teeth are clenched tightly together, almost gritting. Dennis swears he can hear them grinding. 

– I'm staying out of his perverted business, but if I see this–

– Oi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oh-oi! – he grabs Charlie by the shoulders and shakes him, repeating an old tried-and-true ritual, trying to distract and calm him. 

– Oi-oi-oi-oi, yeah, – he mumbles back and nods, closing his eyes to calm himself. Dennis pours him another whiskey.

***

At home, Reynolds is met by Mac with his stupid questions about what took him so long and where he was. 

– I was with a girl, – Dennis angrily waves him off.

– Oh, with a girl? – Mac's eyebrows rise in a familiar expression as he spreads his arms across his chest, glancing at his neighbor, – I knew you took away everyone's keys just to fuck chicks at Paddy's! Did you fuck her on the bar stand? Or on the pool table? On my favorite pool table? Spit it out, man! 

– Get yourself a goddamn boyfriend, Mac, and fuck him on the pool table or wherever you want, but get the fuck off me! – Dennis yells at him irritably and disappears into his room, slamming the door behind him. Mac is really starting to get on his nerves. Something has to be done about this.

Finally, after a long day, Dennis lies down in bed with his eyes closed. His imagination immediately pictures Uncle Jack's mutilated body on the Paddy's basement. His face is unrecognizable - smashed with a hammer, it's just a bloody mess, pools of blood spreading around. His hands, which Jack had always been so self-conscious about, which he had always tried to hide, conceal, visually enlarge, were now severed. Jack's severed hands will never be pets for Charlie. Charlie will take the smallest jar he has and chop them up in there, slicing off each finger individually like sausages. «Oh, look, Uncle Jack, your hands are so small they can only fit in this silly little jar. How pathetic is that, Uncle Jack. It sucks to have hands small like this, doesn't it?» And then he throws the jar into the scalding heat of the furnace.

Dennis clutches the sheets with his fingers, his lips drawn together in a thin line. The last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep is Uncle Jack's dreadful death, which he deserves.

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 7

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

A zombie.   That was the best way Y/N could describe how they felt since they woke up after consuming Ardyn's blood and scourge. A fog hovered over their brain like a storm cloud blocking the sun, and though aware of their circumstance, Y/N didn’t feel quite like themself. A part of their mind was confused, trying to comprehend what it endured along with the rest of the body. The silver lining to the experience was that they could no longer feel any pain. The scourge, however, was subconsciously lying in wait.    Y/N then lingered on the image of the woman who warmly held them in high regard. She was so pure of heart that Y/N wondered if the event was truly real, or if it was their mind's way of coping with an experience it shouldn’t have been receiving.    Y/N’s eyes looked up, watching Ardyn clean his wound in a small sink nearby on the airship. It dawned on Y/N they were sitting up from the cot, their legs dangling off the edge. Hesitating, Y/N audibly swallowed, catching Ardyn's attention.    “I take it you’re conscious again,” he said with conviction, turning his head to the side to acknowledge Y/N's presence.    “I think I am,” Y/N muttered, unsure of their own answer. They let out a slow sigh. “I feel so weird right now. Did you drug me?”    Ardyn snorted, followed by a laugh. “Not that it’s beneath me, but no. You are not under the influence.”    He turned off the sink, wiping his hands on a cloth near him, and flailed his fingers a bit to get the last of the residue off. Ardyn turned around to face Y/N, and approached.

 

“You may feel unsteady for a time. It’ll pass.”   “What’s happening to me?”    “Your body is undergoing integration,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. “My scourge, being of stronger stock in comparison to yours, is getting acquainted with a new extension of itself. A side effect of such a partnership can leave one feeling less than grand. I myself am going through a similar process right now. In essence, we’re attempting to synch up.”    The concept was both intriguing and disturbing to Y/N as was the question they blurted out. “We’re synching like computers?”    “Or like phones. Whatever you’d like as a basis for comparison,” Ardyn mused. His expression went neutral, feeling a similar mental fog that Y/N was experiencing. “I can feel your body calibrating as we speak.”    “Y-you feel me?” Y/N furrowed their brows and flinched. “My emotions?”    “In a manner of speaking,” Ardyn shrugged. “I can feel all across Eos pieces of the darkness. The scourge is a network, a hive of sorts as I've stated. There’s a plethora of different classes of daemons too, if you can scarce believe it. I hold influence down the chain of command within the hive, but I don’t feel wholly a part of anything, bonded if you will, unlike what is becoming of us right now. With you having equal footing to the likes of me, I’ll have no qualms with my affairs at Outpost 98.”

 

Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to this… was the first coherent thought Y/N had in the last hour. The explanation held some terrifying prospects as far as Y/N was concerned and opened up other questions they thought best to not visit at this time. The mind could only comprehend so much. They bundled up more into the blanket that Ardyn had provided before they blacked out midway through the process.    “Does this mean I can feel your emotions too?”    Ardyn made a face. He couldn’t fault them for their curiosity, but he needed to tread carefully. “To an extent, yes. As I’ve said, my power and strength are just as much yours as it is mine, with limitation of course. If I subconsciously sent a message to the scourge to make you confess all your darkest little secrets, you'd blurt without hesitation. However, if you attempted that with me, you'd hit a brick wall. I hold the reigns between the two of us."   “I can hear what you’re driving at,” Y/N murmured. They knew better than to try anything, that was the lowkey threat behind his words.     “It’s good to know we are on the same page,” Ardyn grinned.    “Have you ever done this with anyone else before?”    “I have,” Ardyn said sincerely and gave a nod.    “What happened to them?” 

 

“They died of course,” Ardyn replied nonchalantly, and decided to redirect the conversation. “Scourge bonding takes much energy out of me. The sooner we accomplish our task, the sooner I can cut you off. Therefore we should--”   “Wait,” Y/N held up a hand, beckoning Ardyn to stop. “I need to know one more thing. Do you see her at all?”    “See who?”    “A woman,” Y/N began. Their eyes glanced about the ship, landing at Ardyn’s feet while attempting to recall all they witnessed. “She had blonde hair, kind eyes, and she wore a white dress. I saw her while I drank from you. We were in a field, underneath a large tree. Is she part of the hive too?”    Y/N looked up, meeting a gaze that didn’t seem right on a man such as Ardyn. He looked both fearful and infuriated. If Y/N didn’t know better, he would’ve struck them down had he not been in shock. Within a matter of seconds, he was smiling again.    “It’s nothing to concern yourself with,” Ardyn’s voice softly replied, disguising his earlier emotions. “Think nothing of it.”   “But--”   “I must warn you to quit while you’re ahead,” Ardyn interrupted. He shot a glare at Y/N, studying them as if they had a hidden weapon up their sleeve. “There are lines we do not cross in this temporary truce, and that is all you need to know. Are we clear?”    Y/N nodded. Whoever the woman was, it was painfully obvious she ignited something of madness in Ardyn. Y/N thought it best to keep their head low, and not ask further.    “Now then,” Ardyn cleared his throat, snapping Y/N out of their thoughts. “I’d love to share my plan of attack with you.” 

Ardyn opened his eyes after sighing into his hands, and awkwardly shifted on the edge of the bed. As the memory drew to a close, he peered up and fixated on the bathroom door. Ardyn made a face, wondering how it took someone so long to get ready for sleep. Then again he wasn’t the one covered in muck. He had no doubt Y/N was cleaning themself up and pondered. Perhaps it was best to not preoccupy himself with Y/N’s well-being and instead focus on his own.

Ardyn took in a deep breath and slowly began to unbutton his vest. As the material lifted and caught on a burn, a pained rasp grit past his mouth. Relief followed as he quickly slid out of it then focused getting his ruffled white dress shirt off. The task was far more manageable by comparison, and the texture of the cloth didn’t irritate his wounds nearly as bad.

While he pulled off the shirt, Ardyn assessed the damage to his skin. The scourge created an endless highway of black streaks across his flesh, concentrating on his wounds with precision. Ardyn could feel pulses of the scourges essence travel through his bloodstream like a small army of ants marching to areas among their castle of dirt that needed to be fortified. The burns were not malformed as he assumed them to be. Nonetheless, regeneration would take time. Longer than what he was used to.

Ardyn shook his head, then debated removing his pants. His right leg tensed at the prospect, for between the two limbs, that leg had suffered more from the airship altercation. He reminded himself too that he would be sharing the bed with someone. Keeping his trousers on would be in his best interests.

The reminder made Ardyn glare, feeling foolish to have ended up in such a predicament. Not that he was worried about something intimate happening under his watch. Ardyn had no intrigue for such pleasures anymore as far as he was concerned; even though he had been propositioned several times as Chancellor. Being a powerful political figure--and someone with status--such situations were a consequence that came with the job. He’d be lying to himself though that he didn’t enjoy acting flirtatious with admirers to get ahead via manipulation. It had become more or less a sport. 

Ardyn remembered dealing with similar events 2000 years ago, yet there were key differences. People loved him yet gave space, and once Aera had become his betrothed, folks were not keen to throw themselves at him. Modern humans thought little of future consequences and lived in the moment to their detriment. He both loathed and envied people for that mentality. He then thought of Aera. Of what she would think of this world that had been built on top of their own. The memory of Y/N mentioning her when they imprinted upon his scourge had Ardyn’s stomach churning in knots. He missed her terribly, and Aera still had a hold on his heart despite Ardyn discarding her spirit. It was hard to shove her away once his mind started it's usual patterns of misery. His shoulders tensed at the sentimentality of it all. He didn't like feeling so weak. 

Seconds later, Ardyn heard the bathroom door open followed by Y/N’s footsteps. He felt a small bead of sweat trickle down his neck while Y/N’s gaze fell onto him. 

Y/N froze in place while their eyes traveled Ardyn’s form.  Besides the scourge marks he held, Y/N noticed Ardyn had some rather grotesque scars scattered on his body. There was a nasty precision to them, as if the spots had been chosen on purpose to draw out more pain. Whatever happened to him, must've been excruciating. Y/N shuddered at the thought as fascination dwelled in their features. The layers of clothes Ardyn wore gave the impression he was far more robust. By no means did this extinguish the fact he was strong. His lean build was intimidating given how toned his muscles were. Even if he was nothing but bones, a mere stare from Ardyn could cripple one's resolve. Y/N could feel that happening the longer they looked. 

Ardyn’s toes curled against the floor. His left hand fisted some into the bed sheets, no longer wishing to indulge a curious eye. He decided to take control of the awkward tension that seemed to grow with each passing moment. 

“It’s rather impolite to stare at someone half-naked.” Ardyn teased. 

“Sorry--I wasn’t expecting to see you like that,” Y/N didn’t have an excuse, and quickly averted their gaze. 

“My wounds needed to breathe. Can’t very well accomplish that with clothes on, now could I?” Ardyn quipped with a smirk. 

Y/N tired to ignore how smug he sounded, and stole some final glances of the burns across his skin. 

“If you gave me a warning, I could’ve waited in the bathroom until you were settled in.” 

“No need to fret,” Ardyn mused. “You seemed to have liked what you witnessed.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Y/N huffed in a grumble. 

“You could’ve fooled me,” Ardyn chuckled. “Your initial observations would suggest you were rather taken with my figure.” 

“Shocked if anything,” Y/N countered. They were thankful the light in the room was low, so he couldn’t make out how red their face was. “You wear so many layers, it was hard to visualize if you even had a body and weren’t just made of shadows.” 

“You’re not entirely wrong about that, being made of darkness.” Ardyn grinned. 

“Your sarcasm can screw off right now. I’m getting into bed.”  

“I'll alert the media.” Ardyn shrugged, ignoring the vulgar remark though he smirked at hearing it. 

While Y/N ventured further into the glow of the light by the bedside, Ardyn stared at them. The simple shirt and pants pairing the escorts retrieved were rather nice. His eyes loitered at certain points, admiring how the cloth complimented and accentuated Y/N’s body. He also caught a few scourge veins traveling down Y/N’s arms, and felt tempted to take Y/N up on their offer from before to feed, but relented. Ardyn furrowed his brows upon catching himself lingering too long and stared at his feet to ground himself. His face felt warm at the fact. 

As soon as Ardyn felt Y/N climb into bed, and pulled the sheets over themself, he followed suit after turning off the bedside lamp. His back now turned to Y/N, Ardyn scooted closer to the edge of the beds left side. He winced from time to time as the blankets caught on his burns.

“You okay?” Y/N asked in a whisper.

“No, but I will be.” Ardyn muttered. He sighed through his nose while blinking a few times. “You settled in?” 

“Well, we aren’t playing footsie so I think we’re good.” 

Ardyn tiredly let out a huff of a laugh at the comment. Silence passed between them both before he piped up. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a bed with anyone,” Ardyn murmured. 

“How long are we talking?” Y/N asked curiously. 

Ardyn hummed and shrugged against the covers. “A couple thousand years or so.” 

“Might as well be the same on my end,” Y/N mused while they adjusted and laid on their side, facing away from him. Their eyes glanced toward the window leading out of the room, feeling thankful the blinds were down. It made Y/N feel safe from the storm that was rampaging outside. 

“Thank you,” Y/N said quietly. 

Ardyn furrowed his brows. “For what?” 

“For letting me sleep on the bed and not the ground,” Y/N breathed contently. “I didn’t expect this at all.” 

Ardyn wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. His pride would only let him do so much, and thus he remained quiet until Y/N began to speak. 

“Do you even need to sleep like mortals?” 

“Not really,” Ardyn admitted while letting out a yawn. “Though being weak as I am, I do feel quite exhausted. You can say that I go into a hibernation of sorts.” 

“Maybe tonight you’ll dream.” 

“I scarcely doubt such a notion will come to pass,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. Though there was a part of himself that wanted to continue conversing, he picked up on Y/N’s fatigue. It hung low in their voice. “You should rest up.” 

“I guess this is a good night then?”

“So it would seem,” Ardyn muttered. He closed his eyes, knowing sleep wouldn’t come for him in full but he held onto the calm that enveloped his mind over time. It wasn’t long until Y/N dozed off.

Hearing Y/N's soft snores, Ardyn now felt safe to dive into his own world. His consciousness began to slip away into the darkness. The voices of those he had consumed and the entities of the scourge kept him preoccupied while his body healed. He took pleasure in letting his psyche ruminate on the random sayings of the entities he had inside his body, their voices drowning out whatever was going on outside of himself. Ardyn could remember a time when this had driven him mad, but at this point in the game, he had grown accustomed to it. If he concentrated hard enough, the entities would whisper sweet nothings. Things that encouraged Ardyn to keep himself and the darkness alive. That’s when he truly got a real taste of sleep if only for a brief moment. 

Hours later, a sudden pain in his lower back had the voices screech loudly in his head. Ardyn jolted up wide-eyed and braced himself for an attack while he registered the present. He glanced around the dark room, furrowing his brows in confusion at not seeing a threat. After assessing neither he nor Y/N were in any danger, Ardyn glared toward Y/N’s body when it dawned on him that they must’ve kicked him during sleep. 

“You’re fortunate I’m not willing to throw you on the floor for this--” That was when he felt the bed shaking, and through what little light shone in the darkness of the room, could see Y/N's body violently quiver under the blankets. 

“Y/N?” No answer had come, but Ardyn did hear pained moans that squeezed out of their body. It wasn’t long before their movements became sporadic, matching the intensity of the tortuous strain they were under. 

Ardyn quickly adjusted in the bed, pulled back the covers from Y/N and cautiously pulled up the hem of their shirt, and looked down at their stomach and chest. He could see it. Various scourge patches violently morphing underneath the flesh. Twisting like serpents in a mountainous ball. A flare was underway, the darkness trying to overtake the mind while the host was in a precarious state of sleep. 

“Help---!” 

Ardyn glanced up at Y/N’s face, watching their mouth contort while more pained whimpers limped past their lips. Though Ardyn told himself repeatedly that Y/N’s wellbeing wasn’t a concern of his, he could feel that side of him, the healer beckoning to come out and take away the agony. There was also a part of him that wanted to turn away, ignore what was going on, and play indifference. Neither side would allow him to walk off the board.

“Oh, six hells…” Ardyn begrudgingly murmured. He carefully pulled Y/N’s body to him and settled with their back to his chest. His legs intertwined with Y/N’s jolting limbs for stability while his arms went around their chest and waist, fingertips pressing firmly against their skin. 

“Settle down,” Ardyn muttered in the shell of Y/N’s right ear. Rapidly, the spider webbing of his own plague traveled down his arms and to his fingers. As soon as the black veins met the pads of his hands, Y/N’s scourge markings immediately changed course and went straight to Ardyn’s points of contact. Y/N’s breathing became shallow but more controlled. The pain remained, but it was no longer being felt throughout the body. Instead, it concentrated on Ardyn’s touch, twisting and pushing. The substance yearned to be close with its progenitor. 

Ardyn buried his face into the crook of Y/N’s neck while he held them down, doing his best to keep their body stable while the pain adjusted. He took some of it into himself through the touch. Ardyn’s solution wouldn’t solve the overall problem, but he’d spare Y/N the brunt of it. 

 Y/N continued to whimper and squirm. “Ardyn--” 

“Shhh,” Ardyn whispered. His warm breath ghosted over Y/N’s skin. “It’s alright. It’ll pass. Trust me, it will.” 

Little by little, he began to feel Y/N’s body mollify. The violent quakes he felt from Y/N pulsing against him devolved into shudders. Ardyn continued to murmur and soothe, letting his voice drip low with reassurance. He felt Y/N’s lungs rise and fall heavily against their chest, eventually settling on a tempo that wasn’t leaving them breathless. He felt relief, knowing Y/N wasn’t entirely lost to the pain. 

“Cold--” Y/N muttered weakly. Feeling the electric shocks to their nervous system dwindle down, soon replaced with a frigid sensation that felt like their blood had suddenly stopped. Numbness began to spread from their fingers and down other pressure points. 

Ardyn slowly retreated one of his hands away from Y/N’s body and used it to pull the blanket over both of them. He took this moment to get comfortable and readjusted how he was holding Y/N. There was a brief second Ardyn felt embarrassed at how compromising this position looked; how he was essentially spooning Y/N from behind. He quickly pushed it to the side, hearing Y/N attempt to murmur something. 

“It’s hurting all over again,” Y/N hoarsely said. 

“Not for long,” Ardyn reassured. With his right hand, he carefully pulled up more of Y/N’s shirt, exposing their scourge-ridden flesh. His fingertips carded lightly against Y/N’s abdomen, and the scourge followed Ardyn’s stokes; keeping the semi-sentient plague focused on an extension of itself instead of attacking its secondary vessel. 

“How are you doing that?” Y/N asked tiredly. The pain was once more subsiding and little waves of warmth washed through the sore spots. 

“The scourge isn’t as chaotic in the presence of a stronger legion,” Ardyn whispered gently near Y/N’s ear. “My sickness beckons yours to settle.”

There was way more to it than the simple explanation, but Ardyn knew Y/N wasn’t fully conscious. He hoped that the majority of this experience would be forgotten upon waking, wanting to be spared of an awkward conversation come dawn. 

“Keep doing that,” Y/N pleaded while they began to once more drift off to sleep.

Ardyn smirked against the back of Y/N’s head, letting out a warm breath of air through his nose.

“As you wish,” Ardyn murmured. He himself was surprised by his own comment but kept his word. Back and forth his fingers slid down Y/N’s side, absentmindedly massaging here and there. He could feel the scourge in himself and in Y/N begin to reach harmony on an atomic level akin to a telepathic gift. The lesser of two evils was finally letting go, wishing to become neutral. 

It wasn’t long before Y/N was sound asleep yet again. Ardyn continued his ministrations, not wanting to risk a repeat flare occurring in the middle of the night. He let out a deep breath from taking on a burnt of Y/N’s pain and allowed himself to get over the initial flux. The toll of his own wounds and exhaustion eventually claimed Ardyn’s consciousness. In vain he tried to fend it off, but the weight of his eyes felt too good to give up. 

For the first time in ages, Ardyn fell asleep. True sleep. His arms remained around Y/N while the scourge inside himself went dormant as did theirs. 

[depressedhatakekakashi]

For the au request, I'm gonna be a little sailfish and go for one of my most personal favorites which is singer Kakashi XD

Singer Kakashi Au (Canon Verse)

Although Kakashi’s main job is as a Shinobi of Konoha, his secret passion is singing. He prefers to be alone, in the quiet of his own home, when he sings but will also hum to himself on missions (when it’s safe to do) and can be convinced to go up during karaoke night if there’s a sweet offer in return (like a free drink or for one of his friends to go training with him the next day)

To get Kakashi up on stage during a Karaoke night is a sweet treat for his friends. They’re well aware of Kakashi’s many talents but rarely think about the fact that he can sing really well. Not just matching up with the words of the song, but singing with a voice that makes everyone a little starry-eyed.

One of the many disguises Kakashi uses on an undercover mission is actually a singer. His plan was to go in and do a show for his target, then to use his position as the singer to get some information once the target was feeling a little looser-lipped. It worked wonderfully, except when he got home he found out that there was this big new singer everyone was talking about.

The singer actually became a more regular disguise for him, given the right circumstances. He doesn’t use it as much as Sukea, but for big gatherings or parties, it’s often the perfect disguise to use.

To keep up with the disguise Kakashi decides that he needs to make a few songs of his own. Something to really give his singer disguise a good name. So on his days off he starts getting into writing songs and quickly finds it to be a relaxing hobby. It’s not as easy as just singing or even training some days, but when inspiration hits Kakashi can easily write up a song in one day (with editing and adjustments to be made in the future)

Although he does have a disguise that would allow him to sing without all of the villagers gushing over him, Kakashi doesn’t tend to use it in Konoha. His one rule is that he won’t sing any of the songs he has written for that disguise, because it would too easily blow his cover and while other shinobi would keep their mouths shut about who that famous singer really is, civilians will not.

As for the fans, Kakashi has a lot of them. He’s lucky enough that in Konoha people will usually only gush over his singing for a few days after he did some karaoke, though he certainly does have some more dedicated fans in the village.

Of course, even in Konoha, he has more dedicated fans. The people who show up to the bar every time they hear Kakashi there, hoping that he might step onto the stage and give them a show. He has heard more than a few people whine when they found out they’d missed an opportunity to hear him sing, but he pays them no mind and continues on his way without worry.

There are days Kakashi tries to go outside and enjoy his life, only to be bombarded by fans. Villagers who want to hear him sing or want a picture with him.

It’s overwhelming and Kakashi has become hyper-vigilant when he goes outside. He is not looking for danger but is always ready to run for it if people try to swarm him.

Kakashi doesn’t allow any of this to dull his passion for singing. It’s not often that he gets the opportunity to step onto stage and sing for a crowded bar, but when he does Kakashi feels free. He doesn’t even register the fact that all eyes are on him, too lost in the words he sang to care just who’s watching.

It feels even better when he’s on a mission in disguise. When no one knows just who’s standing up on that stage. When the viewers only see a singer and not the deadly shinobi that hide under it.

In disguise, Kakashi is much more open to fans surrounding him and asking for his autograph or photos with him. He’s not quite sure what it is because he always feels calmer as sukea as well, but there’s a sense of joy he gets when he sees fan’s running over screaming his undercover name instead of calling for ‘Kakashi’

When he’s made Hokage Kakashi figures it’s time to give the singing a rest. He has a lot of work to do and little time to spend on himself, so it makes sense to give up something so that he can still enjoy doing other things.

It does not end up working out that way, at all. In fact, Kakashi doesn’t even get a solid week away from singing before his friends are dragging him to the bar begging him to do a song.

It all gets worse when there’s a Kage meeting and they decide to go out drinking after. Kakashi gets a little too tipsy and ends up on stage with Mei who was super excited to do a duet. He’s coherent enough to try and withhold, but as soon as the song really starts going all bets are off.

Every single Kage and their bodyguards are left speechless as they watch Kakashi belt out the song lyrics like they’re nothing with one of the most beautiful voices they have ever heard.

Onoki mutters something under his breath about ‘perfect Hatake’s’ while Gaara asks Kankuro if it’s expected for a Kage to be this good at singing and if he needs to add some lessons to his daily plans (Kankuro’s too busy laughing at the question to answer)

Meanwhile, Mei and A are both in their respective spots staring at Kakashi with their jaws on the floor. Neither of them was ready for that silky smooth voice to leave Kakashi’s mouth.

The buzz around the village the next morning is twenty times worse than normal. Kakashi can barely step out of his house without being swarmed by people. He ends up resorting to full-on Anbu stealth mode to avoid the crowds for the entire day.

Unfortunately for him he still has meetings with the other Kage and none of them are ready to let him hear the end of this. There is at least one comment from Mei about needing to marry a man with a voice that smooth and Kakashi isn’t sure if he’s going to survive the day if it continues like this.

There’s even merchandise sold in some of Konoha’s stores for Kakashi. Not just regular merchandise associated with his work as a Shinobi, but things that people can get that align more with his singing. Things like shirts with Kakashi singing on them (from pictures people took while he was on stage), or little CDs that took a year to make because Kakashi has little free time and avoids recording music at all costs (seriously Tsunade had to order him to record a song at one point because people were offering to pay him to do it and she just wanted to stop getting such dumb mission requests)

Kakashi’s Anbu days were extra fun because sometimes he’d be so tired that he’d start singing while in the shower. A shower that was shared by everyone and often had at least three other people in it at a time.

No one ever said anything because it was a free and rather relaxing show, but all bets were off as soon as he was taken out of Anbu. Now anytime one of his old teammates or fellow Anbu operatives see him, they ask when he’s going to come in for another free show.

Yamato teases him the most, partially because it’s the only thing he can tease his Senpai about and get a genuine response out of the man. Singing is the only thing that Kakashi can’t stop himself from getting embarrassed about and Yamato loves it.

Kakashi’s students refuse to believe anyone when they’re told that their Sensei is a good singer. Sakura specifically denies any possibility of her dork of a Sensei being any good at singing, and Kakashi happily accepts this judgement because it means there are three fewer people begging him to sing whenever he goes out.

This is of course all ruined for him after the war. Konoha has a big party to celebrate the end of the fourth great shinobi war and properly welcome back all of the heroes from the battlefield, and at some point in the night, Tsunade convinces Kakashi that he should sing a song in celebration.

Kakashi, who has had more than a few drinks himself, agrees to it and heads to the stage with a mix of cheers and jeers.

The jeers are mostly coming from Sakura and Naruto, who still refuse to believe he’ll be any good at singing and want to save themselves from hearing this. They already sat through drunk Yamato singing and that was enough torture for their lifetime.

Once Kakashi starts singing, though, Sakura and Naruto shut their mouths.

They’re too stunned by what they’re hearing to say anything. In fact, they’re a little insulted.

Their Sensei has the softest singing voice either of them has ever heard and he kept that hidden from them.

This is a time for revenge, which of course means the two of them are rushing up onto the stage to sing with their Sensei for optimal embarrassment. Sai even joins because he considered it an opportunity for some team bonding.

Yamato tries to join, but Naruto sends out six shadow clones to hold him back.

The entire scene leaves everyone laughing their butts off, and while there are a few people who are a little sour because they didn’t get to see Kakashi singing on his own they still get a kick out of the show.

At the end of the (frankly ridiculous) show, someone comes forward and asks all of them for a photo. A request that Kakashi is, for once, more than happy to agree to.

Naruto jumps up onto Kakashi’s back and holds up a peace sign with a big grin, Sai stands off to the right smiling at the camera, and Sakura places herself directly in front of her Sensei and uses her hands to cover his face just as the camera goes off.

Of course, they get a much better picture after, but Kakahsi only ever agrees to sign the one that Sakura blocked his face in. Not because he doesn’t want his face showing (It’s not like they can see anything under his mask anyways) but because it’s the most fitting picture for his adorable little team.

Naruto’s a little insulted that it’s the most popular picture that people ask him to sign, but he also loves it because it’s his team. The people he has come to love and cherish over the years, plus one of the most amazing nights of celebration he has ever had.

Kakashi also ends up doing one final song afterwards before calling it a night and disappearing. He knows he’ll be swarmed by people in the morning, but for once he’s not complaining.

After Sarada and Boruto are born, Kakashi often finds his students standing outside his home begging him to sing them to sleep because they have been trying for hours and nothing seems to be working.

Kakashi doesn’t expect it to work, but he agrees to give it a try.

To no one’s surprise except Kakashi’s, Sarada and Boruto pass out almost immediately.

Kakashi quickly becomes the resident bedtime singer for both of his students and Sai (after one particularly bad teething night with Inojin) and begins to expect that nine pm knock on his door.

[altocat]

I think Sephiroth can be described into two halves of a whole man. A whole being.

50%: A broken man, who was manipulated into doing what a corrupted company always wanted him to do, dressed the way they wanted for marketing, looked the way they wanted him to look, and couldn't control his life at all. Looking for a way out of this hell that he was living in. Sadly never escaping

The other 50%: a deranged serial killer, a psychopath. His bloodlusted self wanting to cut loose and hurt and kill, torture for fun, and that is the unfortunate side that truly escaped from him

I think it's pretty complicated.

I definitely believe Jenova had a serious hand in manipulating and worsening Sephiroth's mental state in Nibelheim, but that he also genuinely lost his mind and WANTED to make everyone suffer. He doesn't think he's in the wrong--he believes that he's completely justified in murdering humans, whether it's out of vengeance or birthright or even to fulfill a higher cause.

Before Nibelheim, Sephiroth is a tainted victim. He was groomed into his role at Shinra, but he was still regularly killing people in their name. He might be kind and ultimately a rather secretively damaged individual, but he's still responsible for taking many innocent lives in the Wutai War. He isn't EVIL yet, and he hasn't shown to really take any pleasure from his reputation. If anything, he really seems to dislike his fame and personal glory, not even really knowing WHY he fought. Sephiroth here isn't a good person given his actions, but you could argue that there was the opportunity for him to be one. Under different circumstances, Sephiroth could have been a true hero. He could have been a REAL Chosen One. Shinra ruined him. It isn't his fault in this regard. But he's still doing some really messed up stuff on Shinra's behalf.

At Nibelheim, Sephiroth essentially fully becomes the monster Shinra created, through a mixture of Jenova, his own sanity taking a turn for the worse, and a bunch of miscellaneous worst case scenario factors coming together. I think under different circumstances, maybe Sephiroth would have only directed his rage at Shinra and not the world entire. Maybe he could have even broken free to join Avalanche. But again, there's Jenova and the planets all aligning for the ultimate deadly combination. Sephiroth had the agency to lash out and he took it. He might be severely mentally unwell, but his actions are still unforgivable.

So yeah. He's a mess. He's both a victim and a monster. He probably could have been saved with the right scenario or support. But he was also a ticking time bomb. Unfortunately, we'll never know. And while my heart weeps for the kinder, tragic Sephiroth that once was, the Sephiroth that deserved better, I readily acknowledge that he's probably too far gone now to be saved. Shinra failed him. His friends failed him. Jenova made shit worse. And Sephiroth also failed himself. He's broken beyond repair.

[erabundus]

@cryoexorcist &&. said... as if possessed by some otherworldly influence, chongyun is stumbling toward ren with an expression of utter confusion on their face. chongyun is far from psychic, but there's a strong sense of urgency, like perhaps ren needs a weapon far more than chongyun does right now. it's too compelling to ignore; it's best to just ride it out for now. "er," chongyun says, lifting the claymore off their back and handing it over, "you might need this. just...don't break it?" weird.

the  catalyst  is  a  fine  weapon.  sufficiently  flashy,  deadly  efficient  in  the  right  hands  and  more  versatile  than  a  simple  blade.  there's  a  reason  why  it's  become  the  wanderer's  weapon  of  choice  —  why  he  continues  to  wield  it,  even  now.  (  even  after  the  issue  that  forced  him  to  familiarize  himself  with  it  to  begin  with  no  longer  exists.  )  however,  there  are  simply  some  matters  that  necessitate  a  more  BRUTE  FORCE  approach.  the  sword  may  be  elegant  and  the  bow  may  afford  precision ...  yet  nothing  quite  puts  the  fear  into  the  deserving  like  a  piece  of  sharp  metal  as  long  as  they  are  tall.  it  certainly  makes  a  statement.  (  usually  one  of  murderous  intent.  )  it's  simply  unfortunate  that  the  moment  he  needs  one  most,  the  wanderer  finds  himself  tragically  empty  handed.

or  so  ren  thinks —  for  the  world  has  evidently  seen  fit  to  grant  him  a  rare scrap  of  CLEMENCY.  compensation  for  its  excessive  cruelty,  perhaps.  (  he  has  his  doubts.  )  he  barely  opens  his  mouth  before  chongyun  is  already  handing  over  their  claymore  —  a  confusing  yet  welcomed  act  of  GENEROSITY  that  has  the  wanderer  blinking  in  a  manner  that  veers  distinctly  owlish.  huh.  perfect.

the  tiny  chuckle  that  spills  from  his  lips  may  very  well  have  the  exorcist  regretting  his  decision,  but  it's  TOO  LATE  now.  he's  already  borrowed  chongyun's  claymore  once  before  —  even  complimented  the  quality  of  its  design.  he's  quite  looking  forward  to  using  it  again,  both  for  vengeance  related  purposes,  but  also  simply  for  the  thrill  of  wielding  such  a  fine  weapon.  the  wanderer  gives  it  an  experimental  swing  —  one-handed,  as  if  using  a  sword  of  much  more  modest  size.  another  little  snicker  follows  the  gesture,  a  sound  of  PURE  DELIGHT  that  feels  just  a  touch  off-putting  under  the  current  circumstances.  for  one  as  reticent  to  talk  about  his  feelings  as  ren,  laughter  can  be  used  as  an  effective  gauge  in  the  place  of  words.  in  this  case,  the  emotion  conveyed  is  clear  as  glass  —  ominous,  mischievous,  anger  honed  as  sharp  as  the  claymore's  edge.   ❝  i'll  have  it  back  by  MIDNIGHT.  ❞   he reassures him. what  a  gentleman.

[vikings-til-valhalla]

Ok but this CAN be fun in the right circumstances (which in my experience don't happen that often, unless you find the correct people to play with).

When I ran my first ever oneshot, I told my players to basically make lv20 characters and take a HUGE amount of magic items and potions. They're going to fight the Tarrasque. And consequences don't matter as much because it's a oneshot, so you're basically making characters that will just be used this time and never again. And I gave them all 1 task: break the game.

One player literally made Sith Lord Jar-Jar Binks. Another who always plays emo characters who can't communicate, made the most happy and upbeat cleric who brings cheer to all, thus making all the players SUPER uncomfortable (in a funny way). And one person made a barbarian who, with the unhinged amount of magic items I allowed, had 51 AC.

Everyone got together, and got the Tarrasque floating like 500 feet in the sky on the first round of combat, made it unable to move, and instantly went in for the attack by using the fly spell mass cast upon everyone. Toward the end, the barbarian had 1 spell available (I forget how), but he wanted to keep it a secret from me and I agreed this was ok. He cast it. The Tarrasque, with its stupid level of intelligence (this thing had like... absolutely nothing, maybe -2 or -4 if I remember), could not fight against the polymorph. The barbarian turned it into a bunny. Then, the next player, since a bunny has only like 10hp at most, cast "Power Word Kill", and anything under 100hp that's targeted instantly dies.

So basically, Jar-Jar Binks, Superman, and a hippy, turned the most deadly mythical creature into a bunny and instakilled it. It was fantastic. I love my friends, and they truly broke the game.

I've gone on to make several other oneshot games with the same group, all lv20, and against ridiculous creatures, including Tiamat with 2 incarnations in a room full of lava. The next one I'm going to do is a homebrew mindflayer/dragon lich necromancer mummy THING (I have to see what all I can pack into there), and my players have been looking forward to this for a while now.

Tl;dr: Once you find the right folks, anything and everything becomes a chaotic, unhinged, great memory to make with them in D&D. Go nuts, have fun, and do what you want within reason. Know your DM, and then push the limits.

why is all D&D Content™ like this. what if we all played fun games with people we like and respect and had a nice time