#even at the time I knew I was getting above and beyond anything I'd hoped for

[thirddoctor]

whenever I remember how good Missy was I'm like. man. will us Master fans ever feast that well again

[kasu-meow]

I think this is a bit of an unpopular opinion at the moment, I haven't seen anyone else say this, but... I love Gojo Satoru with all my heart, and because I love him so much, I am so glad that he is dead and is staying dead.

Ever since he was born, he was labeled as the strongest, and he was unable to be anything else except a weapon. He is so far above everyone else that most people don't even stop to consider that he is a human too, and the one time he allowed himself to love and be human, the object of his affection was ripped from him by the same society that put him in a box and forced him to carry all the burden alone.

Ever since then, Gojo Satoru has been shouldering the bulk of the responsibilities of Jujutsu society, living in regret, wondering "what if?" and desperately trying to protect the ones who now walk the same path he used to, because even though he lost what was precious to him, maybe he can make things slightly better so others don't have to go through that pain.

In my eyes, Gojo Satoru's is a story of loss, of pain and regret. The only thing he desperately clung onto was the hope that if he just pushes on a little longer, and mentors the new generation, that maybe he can really affect something in this godforsaken society, make it just a little better for the next generation, but not for him; it's already too late for him. He has already lost everything.

And so he became a teacher, even though he "doesn't want to do any more babysitting," he fought the people who made him a tool to protect the ones he knew could create the change he was seeking, and even though he knew he was walking towards his death, he still put on a smile and reassured his students saying "Nah, I'd win."

Even though he sacrificed himself to wear down Sukuna and let his body be used like the tool it was always perceived as, just so he could save everybody, what did he get? No one cried for him, he wasn't remembered for his kindness or selflessness, but was only blamed for his mistakes because then again, he is a weapon, a tool. Gojo Satoru will never just be a person.

But at least... now it's over. He doesn't have to fight anymore. He left Earth knowing he did his job, and that his students have got it from here on out. He is finally able to breathe and rest, and he was even reunited with the only person who, despite it all, saw him for what he was. Not Gojo Satoru, the strongest, but Gojo Satoru, the guy who likes Digimon, eats kikufuku and smiles despite everything. The one person who was willing to destroy the entire Jujutsu society to protect Gojo Satoru, who really cared about him, and the one Gojo Satoru did everything for. He finally has what he always longed for, and he made peace with his own death. He tied up everything he had left on Earth, and chose to let go because he is no longer needed. The reason he couldn't be revived with RCT was because his soul was no longer clinging to this plane of existence, because finally Gojo Satoru got what he wanted, a new generation of allies who will grow even beyond his potential, and will carry on his vision and make real change in the world.

Gojo Satoru is finally resting and at peace. I miss him, so much, but if he were to come back, what would he be coming back for? He would have to leave Geto Suguru once again, even though the first time almost killed him, and for what? To go back to being who he was, playing the role he used to play, fighting to swim upstream in a world that sees him as nothing more than a machine? What does he have left on Earth now, besides the life of a weapon? He did everything he could, and Jujutsu society will start changing now because of him. He even died the way he always wished for, killed by someone stronger than him, who recognized him, and swore to never forget him.

For the first time in a decade, I believe Gojo Satoru is truly happy where he is. And I really, really want him to be happy. I don't want him to force himself to smile for the sake of someone else like he is used to, I want him to be able to let loose and be himself with the people who appreciate him. I don't want him to go back to a miserable life of loss and regret. So yeah... it pains me, and I miss him, but I'm glad Gojo Satoru is dead, and I hope it stays that way.

[lonepantheress]

i really love you

☆ pairing: kim gyuvin x reader

☆ genre: angst mostly! rlly not as romantic as i hoped

☆ warnings: yunjin le sserafim cameo

☆ wc: 3.3k

☆ a/n: i feel like i owe 1000 apologies and then some. this is the first thing that i've written in awhile. i know i've been MIA but life has really been chaotic. still i wrote this a few weeks ago and decided just to post since i haven't. i miss this blog and the lovely messages i'd receive. i hope you all enjoy <3.

You were often told that people envied your friendship with Gyuvin. You hadn’t known each other your whole lives, but it definitely felt like it. In fact, you considered yourself lucky to have a connection that goes so far beyond the surface level.

The depth of your bond presented itself in a way you considered unique. It was incredible to have someone who knew everything about you – who wanted to know everything about you. He was your shoulder to cry on and the most reliable person that you knew. You often found yourself with the fleeting thought of What if we were more than just best friends? But you brushed it off before you even gave yourself the chance to entertain it.

Still, it was no question to the people around you that you and Gyuvin were something more than best friends – even without that “Boyfriend-Girlfriend” label.

Which is how you found yourself in this position: You and Yunjin found yourselves in the same boat of “I-haven’t-know-you-my-whole-life-but-I-definetly-feel-like-I-have,” meaning you frequently spent your time with one another, and on a weekly basis you slept over at her apartment and vice versa.

You’d watch movies and do skin care and braid hair, but above all you exchanged secrets. Over months and months of sleepovers you found out about Yunjin’s secret spelling mishap of 8th grade, and she found out about your high school boyfriend who liked to call you “Sugar Plum” unironically. No matter how serious or ridiculous the secret, they came out naturally in the dead of night during almost every sleepover the two of you would have.

“I think, maybe, deep down inside, I am possibly harboring some feelings for Gyuvin.” The confession came out with the same pit in your stomach you get when you’re throwing up. 

You sat across from Yunjin on her apartment bedroom floor with green face masks adorning both of your faces. You couldn’t believe the words that had just left your mouth, your heart raced while you waited for Yunjin to give you some sort of response. When your eyes darted up at her, she looked at you wide-eyed and jaw-dropped. 

The room seemed to hold its breath, almost as if it were waiting with you for Yunjin to say something. You were having one of those heart-to-hearts that you only have in the dead of night, admitting all kinds of secrets that you had to look deep inside to find. Still, upon hearing yours, she blinked a few times as if she was trying to process what she’d just heard.

“Wow,” she said softly, breaking the silence, “I mean, I already knew that! I just wasn’t expecting you to say it!”

You managed a weak smile in return, the corners of your lips shaking with nerves, “Yeah. Me neither.”

“Well? You haven’t said anything to him about it?”

“What? No! Oh god, no. That hurts my head just thinking about it, no. I can’t.”

“You can’t?” 

“I can’t.”

She didn’t understand you, but she understood the weight of your words and decided not to bother you about it anymore. Yunjin reached over and gently put her hand over yours, the warmth of her touch grounded you in that moment. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. You know I’m here if you need anything, right?”

The confession occupied the air between the two of you like a fragile secret. Now, the green face masks seemed oddly out of place. As if the intimate exchange had transcended the triviality of their original purpose. 

Yunjin’s initial shock gave way to a soft smile, her eyes holding a mixture of empathy and understanding. The kind of understanding that could only be offered by close friends – knowing they may not comprehend the depth of your emotions, they will be there for you nonetheless.

You sighed heavily and turned your gaze to the ceiling, letting all those emotions you shoved down take their place in your heart. “I don’t even know what I’m feeling half the time,” you admitted, voice carrying a mix of frustration and self deprecation.

Yunjin chuckled, her eyes crinkled in the corners and the dry mask of her face cracked in sync. “Babe, feelings are messy! I don’t think mine ever follow a logical path.”

“God, tell me about it. It’s just… Gyuvin, you know? We’re just too good as friends. What if I ruin it?”

Your hand received a reassuring squeeze from Yunjin before she withdrew her touch, a pensive expression on her face. She leaned back on her arms, considering your words carefully.

“I mean – I personally don’t get where you’re coming from,” she began, voice gentle, “But think about it this way Y/n: if your friendship is as good as you believe it is, then it’s strong enough to handle some turbulence. Emotions aren’t always predictable, and that’s okay! What if some weird unspoken tension affects your friendship more than your harboring some secret feelings?”

You sighed again, staring at the tiles at the ceiling as if they’d give you the answer after a while. “I know. You’re right. It’s just scary…I don’t even care if he feels the same way, what if things get weird between us?”

Yunjin leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. “Babe, look, I can’t predict the future. I do know that honesty is the best policy, though. He deserves to know the truth, but you deserve to express your feelings even more! Whether he reciprocates or not, it’s not in your control. What you can control is how you handle this moving forward.”

“You’re right,” you admitted, letting your head down to face her. “I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been avoiding this for. It isn’t fair to either of us.”

Yunjin smiled widely at you, mask cracking more and more. “Exactly! And you know what they say about regrets, right?”

“What do they say?”

“Well.. I don’t really know. But they have to say something about it! Look, if he truly values your friendship then he’ll appreciate your honesty.”

You smiled back at Yunjin, your own mask cracking from the movement in your face. Yunjin stood up and held her hand out for you to grab.

You reached out and took her hand, letting her help you up from the ground. The air in the room felt a little lighter now, as if the weight of your confession had been shared and the burden lessened.

“Come on,” Yunjin said, “Let’s wash these off and then go to bed. We can talk about this in the morning or something. And if things don’t work, I will happily accept a confession from you on his behalf!”

Despite the impact that your much needed heart-to-heart with Yunjin had on you, you still found yourself unable to take any immediate action (or any action at all, for that matter.) In fact, it was more like the opposite. Your behavior took an unexpected turn – one that puzzled those around you. To you, though, it all made perfect sense. You had finally sat down and confronted those feelings that you had long harbored, and you need some time and space to really process it. Particularly, time and space away from Gyuvin. 

You shifted to practically being inseparable from one another to being distant and withdrawn. Those who’d grown accustomed to seeing you two together nearly every day were now met with your fleeting glances and casual avoidance. It was you who’d placed the invisible barrier between you and Gyuvin, leaving him equally confused by your sudden change in behavior.

Though, he didn’t know what exactly caused this sudden shift with you, he wasn’t blind to the cues you were throwing his way. He noticed immediately your short responses (if he had received one at all), and your excuses to avoid making any plans. He saw you take the long way from one place to another and he could only assume it was so you could avoid crossing paths with him. And while the biggest part of him wanted to know why, his brain told him to just let you deal with whatever it was you were dealing with. 

This went on for three weeks before someone decided to mention it. 

“What’s going on with Y/n?”

“What’s going on with Y/n?” Gyuvin scoffed at Matthew’s question and deadpanned, “If I knew that, she’d probably be here right now.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow, “Man, don’t get mad at me. I’m just so used to seeing you guys together all the time. It’s weird to everyone to see you guys apart like this.” Matthew leaned against the table at the campus café that they both sat.

Gyuvin let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair, “You’re telling me? I’ve tried talking to her but she’s just… distant? I dunno. I can’t put a finger on why.”

“Did you guys have a fight?”

He shook his head, face full of frustration. “Is it bad if I say I wish we did? At least then I’d know what I did. She’s just been acting different. We used to spend hours talking about the dumbest shit and now it’s like pulling teeth to even get a few words out of her.”

Matthew took a sip from his coffee, gaze fixed on Gyuvin, “Maybe she’s going through something! Sometimes people start acting like that when they’re going through something personally. It could be something heavy, and she’s just not ready to talk about it yet.”

Gyuvin frowned at that idea, his mind was racing considering Matthew’s words. What could be so bad that you wouldn’t tell him? “You think so?”

Matthew nodded. 

“I mean.. I don’t know, man. We’re always there for each other. If that’s the case then I wish she’d just let me in.”

Matthew gave a wide, reassuring smile before replying, “Maybe she will, eventually. Just give her some time. Try not to let her push you away completely, keep reaching out. Even if it’s just a, ‘Hey. How’s your day?’ text or something.”

Gyuvin nodded, trying his best not to acknowledge the little pit in his stomach that was gnawing at him, “I’ll do that. But I get to blame you if your advice sucks.”

With the days passing, Gyuvin took Matthew’s advice to heart. He started sending you the occasional message asking about your day or giving you an anecdote out of his. He wasn’t expecting lengthy responses, but he wanted you to know that he was still there regardless of whatever it was you were dealing with.

You, on the other hand, were dealing with all kinds of complex sentiments about your situation. To no one’s surprise, honesty was a much easier concept to speak about than it was in practice. That confession to Yunjin that night had opened a floodgate of uncertainty and fear for you. Part of you had expected your feelings to be reciprocated or to at least be brushed aside as a passing thought, but the reality was much more complicated. You’d unintentionally thrown a wrench in your friendship with Gyuvin, and it was past the point of you knowing how you could fix it. 

You spent a lot of time thinking about it, your situation. You stared at your messages with Gyuvin and wondered if they’d be any different if you were honest. When you’d see him on campus laughing with his friends, your heart would ring itself out. Your close friends could notice the toll that it was taking on you, especially Yunjin. She was the only one who knew anything about what you were feeling, so she was the only one who could try to help.

She noticed how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore, or the heavy sighs that seemed to escape you involuntarily, or the way that you’d space out and think to yourself more often. 

One night, you were both sprawled across her living room couch with a movie playing in the background. The atmosphere was interrupted by the loud chime of your phone. It sat on the coffee table in the center and the screen was lit up with a text.

“Who’s that?”

You both knew who it was. “Oh, probably my mom or something. I’ll just reply later.” You could lie all you wanted, but you couldn’t pretend that your situation wasn’t getting to you. The message was short and sweet, but it made your stomach erupt with butterflies while simultaneously giving you the urge to throw up. Hi, I’m thinking of you. Just wanted to check in and ask you about your day.

“Y/n.” Yunjin spoke softly, but she sounded stern. She wanted you to take her seriously and to let your walls down again.

“Yunjin.” You responded, putting your phone back down and looking her in the eye.

“I can see how much this is bothering you. It’s eating you up inside, isn’t it?” She sat up and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, pausing the movie before facing you again. Neither of you need to clarify what “this,” was because the heavy toll it had taken on your heart was evident to anyone who knew about your feelings.

You couldn’t stop the tears before they began to fall. You could only nod in response, unable to put your feelings into words. 

“Babe, I think it’s time to face this head-on,” Yunjin suggested, maintaining a firm but gentle tone. “You can’t avoid him forever. It’s hurting the both of you.”

“But what if it makes things worse?” You whispered, voice trembling.

“I really, really, really don’t think you’d do that,” Yunjin sighed and faced you directly. “He asked me about you the other day.”

That only made you cry harder, feeling like your heart would just explode in your chest. “What’d he say?” You managed to ask through sobs.

“You know, he just wanted to see how you were. If everything was okay with you.”

“And what’d you tell him?”

“I told him that I couldn’t really say. That you’ll make the time soon to go talk to him.”

“Yunjin…” you trailed off and broke your eye contact with her, feeling embarrassed. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy,” she began, “But, this distance? This awkwardness? It’s not doing you any favors. At least if you talk to him you’ll know where you stand.”

All you could do was nod before Yunjin brought you into a deep embrace, comforting you while you cried on her shoulder.

Over the next few days, you continued to wrestle with the decision of finally facing Gyuvin. The inner turmoil was beginning to reach its peak, you knew that you couldn’t keep pretending like he didn’t exist. Yunjin’s words echoed in your mind as a constant reminder to confront your feelings and put an end to the growing distance between you and Gyuvin. 

One evening, as the sun began to set and cast a variety of golden hues over the city, you found yourself standing in front of Gyuvin’s favorite coffee shop. It was also your favorite, but you’d been avoiding it on the off chance that you’d see him there. Your heart raced as you took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage to go inside. The bell above the door tinkled as you entered, scanning the cozy interior until your gaze met Gyuvin.

He was sitting by the window, engrossed in whatever assignment he was working on, his brows furrowed in concentration. The sight of him sent a rush of emotions through you – familiarity, comfort, and a twinge of nervousness. You scolded yourself internally for being scared to talk to your best friend.

You approached his table, cringing at how loud your footsteps seemed to sound in the otherwise quiet café. He looked up, surprise registering on his face before morphing into a warm smile.

“Hi,” he greeted, closing the books that littered the table and setting them aside, “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Hi,” you echoed, your voice a little shaky, “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

Gyuvin’s expression to a more confused one, but his smile never faltered. “Of course you can sit with me,” he gestured to the empty seat across from him, “I would actually really like it if you did.”

You settled into the seat, avoiding eye contact with him. The silence between the two of you hung for a moment before Gyuvin decided to speak up, “Is everything okay with you? I feel like I never hear from you lately.”

You took a deep breath, your heart still racing. “That’s actually why I came here. I was hoping you’d be here so that we could talk.”

His brows furrowed slightly and his expression dropped, concern evident in his eyes, “You can tell me anything. Please, talk to me.”

“I really love you Gyuvin.”

Gyuvin smiled earnestly at you, “I love you too. You know that you can tell me anything, right?”

You sighed and looked him in the eye before repeating yourself, “No, I mean, I love you.”

Gyuvin's eyes widened, and he seemed momentarily taken aback by your confession. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. 

You cut him off before he could speak, “I just – I sort of realized it one night and I couldn’t figure out how to face you? I didn’t know how, so I just didn’t. And I know it was wrong and I know I should’ve just been honest with you and I just….” you trailed off and looked for some sign of understanding in his eyes.

There was a passing moment of silence where your eye contact was never broken, but you could feel your heart drumming against your chest while the lights in the café began turning on to account for the lack of the sun.

“I love you too.”

Your eyes widened and you waited to respond out of fear that the butterflies in your stomach would fly out if you opened your mouth. “You love me?”

“I really love you,” he mimicked your earlier statement.

You laughed a bit and let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, reaching a hand out to intertwine with Gyuvin’s. “I was so scared. That by telling you I’d ruin our friendship. That scared me more than anything.”

"Y/n, you have to understand that our friendship is incredibly precious to me, like a guiding light in my life. But you… you're more than that. And now, it's as if our bond is being woven even tighter, stronger, because we're entrusting each other with the most vulnerable parts of ourselves." Gyuvin's voice softened, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "It's a kind of feeling that I never want to lose."

You felt a sense of relief wash over you at his words, tears welling up in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, “I should’ve talked to you sooner. I’m sorry, I really am.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his free hand. “You’re here now. We’re here now and that’s what matters.”

You chuckled through your tears, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Yunjin was right, you know. She told me I needed to face this head-on.”

“I never thought I’d say this about her, but you have a pretty smart friend,” Gyuvin teased, his smile widening.

You both laughed, the tension in the air dissipating. It felt like a heavy fog had been lifted for the both of you, leaving a clarity that neither of you had seen before. The café seemed to fade into the background as you focused on each other.

“So…” you began, “What do we do now?”

Gyuvin leaned in a little closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “I think you owe me, at the very least, a date for what I had to put up with this past month.”

You nodded, stifling your giggles from him before responding, “I think I can make that happen.”

[mossy-opal]

Succubus

Shigaraki x Reader

Warnings: SMUT!!!! SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!

It was difficult, living in this world and being what you are. It's not your fault, you were born this way! All those years ago, you were brought into this world and taught how to live.

You lived off of pleasure, and off of the souls of those you pleased. It wasn't all bad, but it was difficult when you were picky.

You weren't like most succubi, you had certain tastes. You didn't settle for every average Joe who came across you and fell into your trap of beauty and lust. Sure, it made you weak and very hungry, but your resolve was strong.

You liked it when they wanted you for more than just your body and pleasure. You liked it when you felt something for them. It broke your heart every time one of your new playthings died, but what were you expecting?

Mates for a Succubus were a rare thing, and frankly, you were losing hope.

That is, until you met him.

Your resolve was almost broken before you had met, thinking that you'd have to settle, go to a bar to find some poor schmuck to get yourself fed.

And there he was, in a dark alley at night, probably making his way home, but you were stuck.

He was beautiful. Light blue-ish gray hair, striking features, beautifully red eyes, and the cutest beauty mark. He noticed your staring almost immediately, and he got aggressive quickly.

"What!?"

"I'm- I'm sorry, I just... Have we met?"

"Tch... No...?"

Gods, his voice was making you weak! You laughed it off, immediately turning on your charm.

"Well I'm certain I'd remember someone like you... Who wouldn't~?"

He stepped back when you stepped forward, before you put your hands up in defense.

"I'm sorry, I'm just awe-struck by you..."

He huffed a small chuckle, before he moved past you. You were on his tail immediately, a small smile on your face. He didn't seem to mind your following, but he did stop again soon.

"What do you want?"

"May I ask for your name?"

He turned back with a glare. "Not until you give me yours first."

You gave him your name, and he looked you up and down, before he turned with a small huff.

"Come with me."

And that, was how you met Tomura Shigaraki, leader of the League of Villains.

Your work relationship went well, and surprisingly, being in his presence alone satiated you. It was new, not feeling nearly as empty as usual, and stronger too. He made your wings soar, and it made you feel fantastic.

He never asked for more from you, but you were always sure to go above and beyond for him. Always going the extra mile, just for him.

He noticed, too. He originally thought it was a joke, how close you seemed to be to him. You were very touchy, very flirtatious, and he didn't exactly know how to handle it. No one really complimented him the way you did, or touched him as softly as you did, or did anything the way you did. You were... Odd.

But, he grew used to it. He... He liked it. He liked you.

You knew that, and you loved it.

It really did something for you, so, you decided to make the next move. To truly, seal the deal with him.

Hearing a knock on his door he grunted, not in the mood to talk to anyone. He didn't answer, but he was shocked when the door opened.

Whoever it was truly had a death wish.

"Dabi I swear to god if you bug me right now I'll-"

"I'm not here to bug you, boss~"

Oh, it was you. He grumbled, less annoyed, but still not in the mood for your games.

"Whatever, I'm tired... Go away."

You chuckled, and it sounded different from your usual laughs or giggles, it sounded... He didn't even know how it sounded.

"I'd normally listen to you with no hesitation, but I have something to ask of you~"

Here it is. You didn't even ask for a place to stay while working recon for him, so he expected he'd have to pay you with something eventually. He sighed, turning around in his chair.

"What is it then?" He asked, seemingly irritated.

You walked up to him slowly, something about you seemed very different now. Maybe it was your eyes- A haircut? He was bad at these things, he didn't know!

Then suddenly, the room seemed... Darker than it normally was. His computer monitors were still on, his game paused in the background, but everything just felt really heavy.

"I've been looking for you for a very long time.... I'm so happy to finally have found you~"

"What are you talking about...?"

Why did you smell different? Not like he knew what you smelled like or anything, but he definitely noticed how different it was now.

Your chuckle rang through his ears, louder than it was before. Everything seemed much heavier, and he figured it was a part of your quirk- You mentioned this was something you could do, right?

"Tomura, I have to be honest with you... I don't have a quirk."

That got his attention, but what got even more of his attention was the tail swaying behind you.

"W-what-"

"Not only that, I've been feeding off of you- I'm so sorry... I just couldn't help it. All the attention you gave me, it felt so good, it did so much to feed me, and that's when I knew it..."

He couldn't even speak, confused and a bit concerned, what exactly was he working with?

"You're my mate, Tomura~"

Looking in your eyes, he swore he could see hearts. He'd be flattered if he wasn't so damn confused- This has never happened before, he doesn't know how to handle this sudden admission of feelings! Sure, he returned the sentiment, he just didn't know how to... Respond.

"I know this is overwhelming for you, and I'm sorry you had to learn this way, but I had to be sure, y'know?"

The whine he responded with when he nodded made you fall to your knees in front of him, a hungry look in your eyes.

"Ugh, you're so hard to resist Tomura~"

"W-what... What are you...?"

Your hands were on his knees as you got closer to him, a pair of wings emerging from your lower back, your tail swaying even faster as you contained your eagerness.

"I'm a succubus, baby~"

His breath hitched, his legs jumping as your hands moved up his thighs.

"And I want you."

He could barely breathe, everything was happening so fast and he didn't know what to do. He pushed himself back, away from you for a second to try and at least calm down.

"W-what do you- What exactly do you want from me? Succubus... You guys... You eat souls- Right...? I think..."

You shook your head, standing up, lifting your shirt over your head. Tomura looked away, not wanting to look at you, despite how mesmerising you were.

"Usually yes, we feed off peoples pleasure, and take their souls when we're satiated. But, seeing as though you feed me with just your attention, I don't need your soul. You're my true mate, something that's thought to have been a myth- or a legend amongst my kind~"

Tomura could almost laugh, looking back at you before looking away again quickly; you were shimmying out of your pants.

"F-fuck well I thought- I-I thought stuff like- Succubi were... Made up..."

You moved closer to him again, leaning onto the arms of his chair as he moved to cross his legs, moving his sweater to cover his groin. You giggled at how shy he was, making him look you in the eyes.

His breath hitched again, unsure of where exactly to look. His eyes flickered from your chest to your nethers, back to your eyes.

"Tomura.... Can I have you~?"

He wanted to, he really, really wanted to, but he didn't know if he should agree...

"I promise nothing bad will happen, and I won't hurt you~"

He gulped, "Uh... S-sure... Yeah- Whatever..."

You shook your head, putting your forehead to his. The sudden intimacy actually helped cool his nerves ever so slightly.

"No darling, I want to hear a yes. Because it's true, I want you, and I want to mate with you."

"I-I said sure-"

You giggled again, giving him a soft kiss. He whined at the feeling, kissing you back with a passion he hadn't felt before. The sudden change in his attitude was pleasant, something that you weren't really expecting. He pulled away from you before pushing himself out of his chair, grabbing your face with both of his hands, careful to keep his pinkies raised (even if he was unsure he could hurt you). He kissed you again, deeply. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, making you moan as you put your arms around his shoulders, letting him walk you back to his bed. He pushed you down, pulling away from you as he hovered above you, the both of you huffing for breath from the kiss.

"Is that enough of a 'yes' for you?"

The needy gravel in his voice was to die for.

You smiled wide, pulling him into another kiss, the both of you tonguing the others mouths, each of you pulling and squeezing at anything you could get your hands on. Tomura gripped your chest and your hips, pulling your thighs apart to press himself against you.

You were gripping his hoodie, before pulling at the waistband of his pants and underwear, shoving your hands up his hoodie, feeling his stomach and chest.

He pulled off of you quickly, yanking his hoodie off, before standing and pulling his pants down with an eager swiftness.

You imagined him to be just as pretty, but you didn't expect him to be this gorgeous.

The smile on your face worried him slightly, it made him think it was a joke again, maybe it was all an act.

"Get over here. Now."

The demand in your voice snapped him out of his sudden doubt, the hunger in your eyes was hard to resist. He crawled over you again, kissing you over and over. Softer, this time. You grind against him, making him moan and whine against your mouth.

You felt your wings flutter beneath you as you fed off his pleasure, and you felt vastly different from your previous toys.

You felt his love. You felt everything he felt, his doubt, his fear, his lust, his need. But most of all, you felt his love for you. You moaned when he touched you with two fingers, toying with your hole.

"Aah- Tomuraaah~"

"Fuck.... So needy, huh~?"

You wiggled your hips against his hand, your tail wrapping around his leg as he pushed his fingers into you slowly. Your mouth opened wide with the most sinful moan he'd ever heard, it was better than he'd imagined, even better than any pornstar he'd watched. He slowly fingered you open, scissoring you carefully, kissing your jaw and biting your neck as be listened to you. He never thought he'd get this hard, just from foreplay alone.

Your hands clawed into his sheets and his mattress, and he swore he saw you tearing the fabric.

"Tomuraaa, please- Please stop teasing me, I want you- need you~!"

With begging like that, how could he refuse? He pulled away from your beautifully marked up neck, and he was surprised, to say the least. Horns were atop your head, fangs poking out, your face already looking perfectly fucked out.

"Please fuck me baby, pleeeaaase~?"

Your whines and begging were enough to drive someone mad, and he was the one to hear them. You wanted him, you needed him. Lining himself up, he pushed into you quickly, shuddering a moan at the feeling of just how fucking hot you felt.

The gutteral moans the both of you exchanged made your eyes roll into the back of your head, your mouth falling open even wider as he was finally, finally inside of you.

"Aaaaagh- Yes~! Yes yes yeeeess! Thank you Tomura, t-thank yoouaaah~!"

He huffed a chuckle, gripping your thighs tight before pushing them against your chest, over his shoulders.

"Don't thank me- uGh- Yet~"

As soon as he said that, his hips snapped, making you moan in his ear, and making him shudder above you. He already felt close, but he held out- If only for you. His movements were quick, sloppy, he thrusted as fast as he could, as harshly as he could, as he shoved his tongue down your throat, swallowing your moans and your cute noises. Your moaning was endless as you fed from him, drinking in his sexual desire and energy, feeling yourself being more full than you've ever felt.

In more ways than one.

Your tail wrapped tightly around his leg as your wings helped push you against him, meeting his hips with every thrust.

He lifted himself up, smirking down at you, "Wa-Want me to cum in you? Fill you up? Haa?"

You cried out with a smile, "YeEess! Yes yeS! Please baby~! Please fuck me full! W-waahnt it~ want you! Want you~! M-more~!"

Tomura laughed condescendingly, groaning at the feeling of you fluttering around him as you felt him get closer. He couldn't last much longer than this- It was already too much.

Without much more stimulation, he came hard and quick. You had never cum as hard as you did with Tomura balls deep inside of you, your climaxes combined to drip out of you. You both moaned out, loud, your hands clawing the bed to shreds as you cried out in ecstasy.

As you both caught your breath, Tomura pulled out of you and laid on his bed, exhausted, you couldn't help but laugh.

Tomura groaned. Barely able to, he moved to lay on his back, looking at you.

"W... What.. What's so funny...?"

You slowly and carefully moved to sit on him, straddling his lap, your clawed hands on his chest, a sly smile on your face. Your tail waved behind you as your wings stretched out.

"Oooh baby... I'm far from finished with you~"

Tags: @slayersins @shadowsandshapes @dabislittlemouse @dabislittlebeaniebaby @the-milk-anon @shockinglysubmissive @elias-fable @starstruck-flames @daniidil @223princess

[thr0wnawayy]

Just HOW corrupt is Hero Society?. Pt 1.

At this point in MHA's timeline, it's no secret that Hero Society is beyond saving. In my time lurking in these tags, I've seen the occasional post tackling some aspect of this corruption, all of which I found insightful. Today I'd like to share some of my own tidbits and thoughts regarding the sensationalized hellscape that is MHA's Japan.

Hawks' Origins:

Something that always bugged me was the timing, It seemed to good to be true. Hawks' dad gets caught, ENDEAVOR of all people is the one to do it and the Commission just happens to arrive.

Well, no. Let me ask you this, why would they send in the Number 2 hero to deal with a petty thief turned murder. A hard hitter like Endeavor would have been the WORST possible person to send as opposed to like, Eraserhead who would have been able to dissarm Takami quietly.

It's not like Mr. Takami was particularly dangerous either, his feathers at best could make for decent lockpicks or shivs but that doesn't justify Endeavor's appearance nor does it make sense given his arrogance. To him the situation would be small fries.

It just doesn't make sense when you assess the risk, it's not like Endeavor has ever been good at restraint (See: Hero Killer Arc) and the possibility of collateral wasn't exactly zero when you consider Mr. Takami got caught jacking a car (additionally not a major or dangerous crime). So he gets arrested, the seeds of Hero worship are planted in a young Keigo's mind and Hawks + his Mother flee and become homeless. Hawks eventually goes looking for the police and returns with:

Well they aren't police.

So, your telling me that these Commission agents just so happend to be around Hawks, here in some backwater cranny. What interest would the HPSC have in this dregg of a family (How do they even know their names). They shouldn't. Not unless they knew something before hand.

(I find it funny that the scene parallels how Tomura was found, down to their respective "saviors" having their own agendas)

We know Hawks used his quirk as a sort of motion detection system to alert his father of any intruders. Mind you, we don't know how far or accurate he was prior to the HPSC's efforts (minus being able to reach the city). So it's possible the HPSC avoided detection by watching from a distance and avoiding certain areas where Hawks could sense them.

Just how long was the Commission watching, how long did they allow the abuse to continue. How long did they watch the Takami's starve on the streets from afar before acting. So many questions, yet no answers.

"Cool but how does the HPSC tie to Endeavor?" You may be asking.

Well, sometime before the arrest happened Hawks had actually left the house and ventured into the nearby district woth his mother.

And came home with an Endeavor plush. Funny how that works huh?. It's not implausible to assume that the Commission simply requested Endeavor to handle Mr. Takami, possibly adjusting his schedule for their convenience.

I'm not suggesting that Endeavor knew of the Commission's scheme here, nor am I suggesting he (intentionally) helped. (Enji's cruel, yes. But he's also an idiot in anything not hero/celebrity related.).

Something I ask myself is, were there other candidates?. Children stuck in situations like Hawks', what happened to them. Were they abandoned to either die or become villains, killed to eliminate potential threats, or perhaps they were just born "unlucky".

Some final notes:

Hello, I apologize for the amateur nature of the formatting, I'm still getting used to the sites formatting options, as well as trying to figure out my "style" so to speak. Regardless I hope you found something in this post and look forward to your thoughts and opinions regarding the content above.

Yours truly,

Thr0wnaway.

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

If you could rewrite the paw patrol movie and give more characters screen time and make it as in where Chase doesn't fully get over his fears how would you all do it

Despite being a great movie YOU GET IT, YOU KNOW WHAT'S UP WITH THAT MOVIE, THANKS FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY, I love writing stuff so I just hope it'll be to your liking too XD

Under the cut for more than obvious reasons- very VEEEERY LONG post ahead. Don't say I didn't warn you. Let's GO.

There's not many things I'd change by the beginning of the movie to be honest. Even the short talk Ryder had with Chase to convince him to go with them to Adventure City was okay enough for me. Plus it shows just how much Chase puts his trust in Ryder, above his fears and trauma, which is a VERY IMPORTANT POINT later down the road. Also, we did get to see Chase was uncomfortable upon arrival, which is important as well. Slowly, it gave way to curiosity and wonder, thanks to seeing their new headquarters. I would ignore my fears too if it meant I'd get to go into such a cool place and be allowed to call it my home far from home.

The things I would possibly change... Maybe Mayor Humdinger. There was something REALLY OFF about him in this movie. I mean, it's not THAT MUCH DIFFERENT from the show, but I feel he went a bit crazier than usual on his ideas. I can't put my finger on it... He seemed more like a bad guy for the sake of being evil, and not like someone who came from a sad town and just wishes for recognition and praise.

Now there are four main points about the pups I'd probably have worked a bit differently: Chase, Marshall, Zuma and Skye.

First, let's go about Chase.

I agree his panic attacks were greatly addressed and handled. There was no exaggeration, there was no "let's make it seem way bigger/impressive than it is" kind of thing. Some shows or movies, when going about a character panicking, like to make it look SO DEEP, with so many thoughts crossing their mind, and so many scenarios, and things looking more threatening or bigger and-- most times it's nowhere near like that at all. That would be more like an anxiety attack, actually. For panic attacks, there's nearly no thoughts at all, we don't process what's happening. It can be a little different for everyone, given we're all not the same people, but I can say by personal experience, when I had panic attacks, I literally BLANKED. All I can remember is my body tensing so hard I was unable to move, so I just cowered in my chair, my eyes were darting everywhere totally unable to focus and both my head and my chest felt like they could explode any second. I stayed like that until I could hear my father talking to me and taking me away from the place where I was, taking me back home to my bed. That was almost exactly how they made it in the movie: Chase tensed, froze, was unable to act, and then he cowered away, closing his eyes and hyperventilating until he heard Skye talking to him and then she took him away from that place.

As for his trauma, though... At the beginning, yes. It was nicely addressed too. From all we've seen in the show, Chase tends to literally blindly follow through with Ryder's orders, no matter what. That pup has in Ryder not only a leader, but also a best friend he would go through hell and beyond for. He would do ANYTHING for Ryder. And so, he puts his trust in Ryder once more and accepts the fate of being taken with them to Adventure City, despite his own wish of not setting a paw in that place ever again in his life. Because he trusts Ryder more than himself. And when he felt his trust was broken, Chase was devastated. We know that was not the case - while Chase felt like Ryder was benching him because he was unable to act (for being scared/a failure), Ryder was actually benching him because he was worried about Chase's mental health. He KNEW Chase was panicking badly, what Chase had to go through in that very city was traumatic, and Ryder KNEW all that. But Chase thought Ryder didn't trust him, so he ran away.

Everything handled pretty okay up to this point. And then, there's the one thing I'd change about Chase in this movie:

Later down the road, they (probably unintentionally/mostly due to the movie timing) made it look like Chase was able to just overcome his trauma with that city with just some small talks- I'm not saying those talks were NOT important, ON THE CONTRARY, they were VERY WELL DONE AS WELL. The issue is just the simple fact that these kinda things don't go away SO FAST. Of course, we needed him to be able to literally jump into action because the movie needed to end XD But still... He didn't need to do that ALONE either.

What I would change is literally THAT. Chase didn't need to go rescue Ryder ALONE, especially when he KNEW he could end up freezing in panic. He's still in Adventure City, he's still pretty much EVEN MORE TRAUMATIZED. He wanted to prove a point, fine. He wanted to prove that he is able, to prove that he is a hero like everyone believes him to be. He wanted to prove he CAN BE TRUSTED. But he didn't need to do the rescue ALONE to prove that.

Personally, I think the scene when Chase rescues Ryder could/would have gone differently if the other pups would have joined him - for example, we probably wouldn't have that dramatic leap of faith, sure. That works when the character is alone or carrying someone else. Not in a group. But can you imagine if Chase's first thing was to contact the other pups to let them know the tower collapsed with Ryder still inside it? They all would go there and they would work TOGETHER as the team they are, to reach for Ryder, rescue him and successfully bring him back down to ground level, safe and sound. And they would all support Chase as they do so. Chase doesn't need to deal with his trauma alone, he doesn't need to fight his fears alone. He's got his team, his friends, his family with him. In my opinion, they should have worked together to rescue Ryder and the impact of the "you don't need to deal with your fears alone" message would be more special than "overcome your fears on your own".

Now, about Marshall.

I actually liked the fact Marshall was the one taking over whenever Chase was unable to act for one reason or another. It literally makes sense, not because they're close friends/best friends or whatever, it's literally because of their jobs. Cops, firefighters and paramedics (I know he's an EMT, shush, let me generalize the thing here) are the jobs among all the pups' jobs that ARE to deal with crowds, to deal with people more directly during rescues. They're the ones to talk to people, they're the ones to give instructions, ANYWHERE, anytime. They are the authorities there. So, whenever Chase is unavailable, Marshall is the logic choice to take over and I'm glad they did so.

What I would change, would be two small things: I'd give him some time WITH CHASE, and our old fandom beloved main complaint, I'd let his clumsiness show more.

Marshall should have had a talk with Chase at some point- any point at all. The show portrayed these two as best friends in the beginning, they always did things together, be it for work or for play time. Marshall should have been there for Chase too, and I'd do that after that first incident when Marshall had to go put out the fires and make sure Chase wouldn't get burned while he was lowered back to ground level. Y'know when Chase was unable to sleep and went to the main room to look out to the city in the middle of the night? That could have been a good moment for that, maybe right after the song played.

As for Marshall's clumsiness, I don't have much to say. It was badly portrayed, as in he was clumsy in a way that it wasn't HIS clumsy way- any of the other pups could have been put in his place and be just as clumsy. I'd give him at least two scenes where he would "be himself" in a way we'd be like "YEP, that's our Marshall!" I don't have specific ideas right now but I could think of some, given some time.

Surprisingly, I wouldn't change much about Zuma.

When I saw complaints about his lack of screentime in the movie, I honestly thought it would be worse. Like my father commented on my post with his reactions to the movie, to take Zuma - a pup specialized in WATER RESCUES - to a big city, it's SO NOT his "natural habitat". Zuma is literally a fish out of water there. I wasn't expecting him to have any water-related rescue AT ALL, maybe he'd just do a regular ground rescue. To have him go in the sewer/river canal to rescue that car was legit a pleasing surprise for me.

But then, why is he in this post, Lary?

Simple: All of Zuma's moments of "important" screentime in this movie only happened because Liberty was there with him. I feel like he was the one riding on her for screentime, rather than the other way around, which is kinda disturbing as he IS one of the main six and she's a literal newbie there.

Pulling her little cart;

Later when they were being deployed, Liberty was there watching as they all launched and was the most excited to see Zuma's hovercraft being deployed (ngl I'd be as excited as her, seeing a hovercraft up close like that IS AN EXPERIENCE);

And then, they worked together to rescue the family from the car which fell in the water. This last one is important: Zuma wouldn't have been as successful with this rescue if he didn't have someone else to sail his raft down the stream following his sub. And who was it? Liberty. Even with the convenience, they paired those two so both could have screentime at all.

So I'd find another way to give Zuma screentime without relying it on pairing him with Liberty at least once. I'd probably make it happen for the group rescue on Ryder. He could have some moment there, as well as all the others.

And last but not least, there's something about Skye that bothered me a bit.

It's not about her character or anything like that- she was alright for the entire movie, really. The one thing that bothered me wasn't her, but something that happened WITH/BECAUSE OF her. Namely, the clouds dispersing instantly after she dive-bombed the shit out of that cloud-sucker machine.

I'm sorry but they spent the whole movie building up the tension of that machine getting too stuffed with clouds, the density going nuts, and then the machine releases the clouds creating a huge storm... Only for all of them to magically DISAPPEAR once the machine is no more? They were already OUTSIDE of the machine. Maybe the storm itself would stop, nice, but that thing was literally a high pressure pan ready to explode and Skye did just that. She exploded the high pressure pan. It should've released ALL THE CLOUDS, maybe the air displacement would PUSH THEM all over and beyond the city, and only then the winds would take them away, but that wouldn't happen instantly. For fucks sake Skye literally exploded a ticking high pressure bomb LMAO let it have SOME effects! Give us some sky spectacle of clouds going all over, being pushed away and only then slowly opening up the sky once more.

So, yeah, these are the things I'd change in the first Paw Patrol movie. Nothing too drastic really, just small but important details, the only BIG change would be how Chase got to deal with his trauma in the end.

Whether he and/or Ryder like it or not, that city will ALWAYS bring Chase the memories of the worst times of his life - being abandoned as a baby, all alone, later also the memories of his panic attacks and the memories of the panic he must've felt once he saw the tower collapsing knowing Ryder was still in there - even if it ALSO brings now the memories of the best thing that ever happened to him: Being found and rescued by Ryder. We could've added now the good memory of Chase finding out he's not alone with his fears, finding out he doesn't have to suffer alone, finding out his family will always back him up no matter what, just like Ryder said, that's why they're a team, to support and back each others up in their times of need.

I swear it took me A WHOLE DAY typing this (in between teaching classes). You guys love to make me work my brain out, huh? Hope you'll like it, these are my points of view in this whole thing, my PERSONAL ideas. If you have different ideas, NICE! If you agree with mine, NICE TOO! Everyone thinks differently and let's go XD I need some food now, need to go make my dinner after teaching this night's class, see ya XD

[meu-meu-kissy-ceutie]

Whether you read the read more or not, feel free to reblog or comment with your reasoning. Ultimately the last decision will be up to me and this is more to get an outside perspective, so if you have one you'd want to share let me know!

Here's little personal thoughts on why any of these favs of mine might fit me, as well as little blurbs about what i like about them.

Cyndaquil Family: Cyndaquil was my first pokemon of my first game and its still my fav. I like cyndaquil because im a shy person, and its a bit of a timid mon only pulling its fire out in certain situations, but grows into a fierce pokemon. I liked the idea as a partner cyndaquil could help pull me out of my shell a little, i think that could fit for a sona too. (Note this is the johtonian line, i prefer it to hisuian)

Popplio Family: Popplio is my second favorite pokemon starter, and the only starter to rival my love for cyndaquil enough to make it in my top favs (still waiting on a grass starter to help me make a trifecta). Popplio is one of the many claimed trans pokemon (one of two water/fairy types), which is a little on the nose but works just fine with me. Being trans is a huge part of who i am. What really sets it above is the combination of that with music, i love music and in general voice work, and that more than anything had me fall in love with this pokemon. I named myself euphony, and the popplio line with its special move sparkling aria works great with that!

Wimpod Family: If you know me and pokemon you knew there were gonna be bug types, and so here is wimpod! I love wimpod, a little darling baby so weak, so scared,only able to learn two moves akin to a magikarp, but with hard work wimpod gets stronger! Evolving into the huge, strong, and intimidating golisopod! With a signature move (upon release) and signature ability (still one of a kind) i think golisopod gained some courage with that strength, even if it still wont stick to a losing battle. I think theres also to be said about golisopods intimidating stature that iv often felt i had, even if i was more prone to an emergency exit underneath the surface. Like with the cyndaquil line, i feel a kinship do to my own timid nature, and the hopes i can move beyond it.

Hatenna Family: The second pokemon claimed by trans folks, the hatenna family! From the color scheme to its true frame hiding inside its hair to its witchy aesthetic, thats transgender, but not what drew me to it as a pokemon or a pick. Growing up in my household, showing strong emotions was generally not a good thing, parents didnt like dealing with me if i was sad or two excited. I feel a connection to hatenna in that way, like if i grew up in the pokemon world maybe learning to keep calm could have helped me meet this pokemon, and they could have spent that time with me when i had to push emotions away. I would also sometimes found myself overwhelmed during confrontation as a child, which im working on still today but is another mark in hatennas cap.

Fomantis Family: Fomantis marks the third pokemon from alola to make it onto this list, which should go to show you what a fantastic entry it is, at least imo. Fomantis is, surprisingly, not the second bug type in this list, contrary to its appearance it is a mono grass type. That is the euphy connection! Growing up, both for transgender and other reasons i often felt iv had to pretend to be something im not. My default coping mechanism is fawning, if a situation gets tough the easiest way out for me is to play along until i can get outta there, and fomantis is much the same using its appearance to fool bug types. I'd say our main difference is i simply love the bugs!

Goomy Family: Goomy, the weakest dragon type! The minute I read its pokedex entry it became my favorite dragon, favorite in all of kalos! I have a thing for taking weak pokemon, working with them and getting stronger together in the games, goomy, wimpod, and a hand full of others fit this bill to me! Goomy's also just wonderful! Soft, squishy friend to hug, the kindest eyes in its final evo, but dont be fooled this is the pseudo legend of kalos, strength is its middle name! Like with wimpod or cyndaquil, the idea of going from shy and weak to something stronger appeals to me, and, i am also a little softer than a typhlosion or a golisopod in reality. (Once again this refers to the kalos line not the hisui)

Larvesta Family: A late entry and our true and final bug on the list. If im being honest, the larvesta line made it on this list more for its connection to my sona than myself. I love larvesta, it was actually the second bug type pokemon i truly fell in love with (right after heracross, fitting slither wing would steal its typing). In truth i dont have a lot of connection with this pokemon, theres the bug and moth aesthetic (moths and beetles are my go to's for bugs), the fact that similar to many of the above its a weaker pokemon with a long road to get strong, a slight connection in the way i can sometimes feel hazardous, but thats about it. As for my sona though, you know she is a moth, you know she deals in the radiation of the sun (you knew that right, fusion not fission, for the most part neway) you know shes got a main white color scheme, and pulling from volcarona and slither wing i can get both some fun green eyes (shiny rona) and some nice green stars speckled on the wings. Its interesting that, while i do think i have a strong enough emotional connection, its probably the greater design connection that won this family a spot here.

[annasinterests]

don't look at me like that unless you mean it

so i get out of bed ♫ put on my shoes and in my head

|| series masterlist || main masterlist ||

a/n: going back and revising can either be the best or worst thing in the world i stg lmao. i'm honestly surprised with how quick i got this one out?? anyway, thank you all for the likes and reblogs so far on this series! i hope you're all enjoying where the story is going!! if you have any questions, comments, or even suggestions (even if its like grammatical stuff), please let me know bc i'd love to hear some feedback <3

word count: 4.1k (where da freak did that come from?!)

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, angst, reader midkey being a little shit, reader also being a mom, swearing, lil fluff here n there, pining, looming threats — please tell me if i missed anything!

Winter turned to spring.

Spring turned to summer.

And Ellie found her purpose again.

She volunteered to help all around Jackson when she wasn’t out on patrol with you or Joel, going above and beyond what was expected of her. At least twice a month, the three of you would go over to Tommy and Maria’s for family night, consisting of food and games for a couple hours. Sometimes even Dina, her now-official girlfriend, and Jesse joined– At Ellie’s request, of course.

You tried your best to have meals as a family, taking the time to share details of the day or week, or simply just enjoying each other's presence in silence. Ellie had made it a point to spend time with you and Joel separately once a week outside of work, whether it’d be having lunch, going for a walk, or watching a movie together.

It was like life breathed into her, and your house felt like home again.

Whenever you’d get lucky enough to all be home at the same time, the three of you would be in the living room together but be occupied with your respective interests. Joel would be on the couch with a guitar and rag in hand, delicately cleaning and polishing the instrument, while Ellie sat on the window seat across the room with her notebook and pencil. You’d be curled up on your reading chair between them with your nose in a book while cradling either a mug of coffee or tea. Sometimes the quiet would be broken by Ellie peering up from her art and seriously prompting Joel with a question that was so obviously from her book of puns and you'd watch as she eagerly waited for him to take the bait. You couldn't tell what was better, when Ellie would make herself crack up, or watch Joel shake his head in disbelief with a grin on his face. The best, though, was when Joel would answer with the punchline and laugh as he watched Ellie's face fall with contempt.

Things had just fallen back into place.

The general rule in Jackson was that everything had a set schedule and was planned in advance, no matter how big or minuscule it was. So when Maria had called in for all patrol, leaders, and committee members to meet at first light this morning, you knew it had to be something important.

On your walk over to town hall, you took the extra time to appreciate your surroundings. The sun shined a bit brighter, and the air felt fresher. The trees were regaining their green leaves in full, and weeds sprouted in the cracks of the streets and sidewalks. You waved to fellow settlers sitting on their porches and drinking their morning cups of coffee, many of whom you’d come to know as good friends.

The room filled up quickly and the air hummed with anticipation and light conversation. People arranged themselves according to their role in Jackson, but you only paid attention to the groups you belonged to: The committee, who sat before the podium, and patrol, who lingered near the back. And it just so happened that you were administration duty this week, so you took your seat in the front row. You scanned over your shoulder for Joel and spotted him off in the corner with Tommy, in what seemed like typical brotherly conversation. The two faced each other, Tommy talking passionately about something while Joel shook his head in annoyance, which slowly turned to reluctant nods and a hand up in defeat. You wondered what he’d been going on about.

Your attention was drawn back to the podium by the tapping sound of the microphone that was amplified through the speakers, Maria's favorite way of commanding the room's attention. But when you looked at her, she wasn’t her typical self. In all meetings, planned or not, she always exuded an unmatched confidence and possessed a let's-get-to-business attitude. That she wasn’t phased by the sheer amount of responsibility that rested on her shoulders, being the backbone of Jackson.

But now, something was off. She was bothered, and it showed. Her hands that normally folded in front of her now gripped the sides of the podium with such a strain that you could see her knuckles turning white and her thumb repeatedly scratching at the wood. Her eyes anxiously darted around the room, looking at all the bodies staring back at her, but not really seeing them.

"Thank you all for being here on such short notice," she tried to mask her concern with a bright smile, "I wanted to bring you all together to discuss an important development that has come to our attention."

She paused for a moment, as if to reel in everyone's attention moreso, though it was probably more for herself. You tilted your head and squinted at her as she nervously peered around again, wondering what the hell had gotten into her.

"Recently, some of our patrol has been encountering a group little ways beyond our walls,” she allowed her words to sink in, “but they’re not like our usuals– they’re more organized. Dangerous.”

And? Jackson’s dealt with savagery before, what’s so different now? Maria glanced at you briefly, as if she heard your thoughts.

“They pose a significant threat to us. One greater than we’ve ever seen, and one that we cannot underestimate.”

Without missing a beat, you looked over your shoulder between the sea of people that were exchanging uneasy looks and words for Joel, finding his eyes on you. He shared the same apprehensive expression as you did, with steady eyes and scrunched brows.

Maria held up her hand to quiet the murmur that had rippled through the room before speaking again, but you drowned out her words. The most you were able to put together was something about unsettling information, the community being built on unity and resilience, and stricter security measures.

For all the times you came across people, how many of them had been the company that played a hand in this? How many times had you walked away from someone who harbored ill intentions? How many times had you unwittingly brushed shoulders with death at the hands of these people?

You sat still as ever, eyes locked in front of you, but your body was beginning to shut down as more thoughts crammed themselves into your head. Your heart rate picked up, being able to feel the pulse just about everywhere, and your vision began to blur in and out.

Your hand ghosted over the void in your stomach. You could handle being out there. Fuck, you could come to terms even getting caught out there. But it made your blood run cold knowing that Joel was out there facing those same risks as you, and– fuck– even Ellie too.

One question still lingered: What was it about this group that set them apart from the rest?

“Hey sweetheart-” you were startled by the sudden hand on your knee, jerking your head to the left to look at the woman next to you, Charlotte. She frowned at you, “Are you alright?”

“I’m-” you shook your head to a nod, “I’m- Yes. I am.” She didn’t look convinced, but didn’t pry either. Instead, she gently placed her hand on top of yours.

You liked Charlotte, and not just because you had to for the sake of the committee, because God, there were quite a few that fell under that obligation. You actually respected her. She was sweet and southern as they made them, and everything she did was always handled with grace and poise. You’d also be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t slightly envious of her. To be soft and benevolent well after the end of the world? You could only wish to be those things.

“Well, if it’s alright with you, I could really use Ellie’s help at the school today.” She took her free hand and gestured about the room, “Just ‘ought to prep some things in light of all.. this.”

You placed your hand on top of hers, "Ellie would love to."

“And have Dina go too,” she gave a warm smile and squeezed your shoulder as she stood. She leaned down as if she was confessing a secret, sending you a wink. “I’ve always liked those two.”

It was when she walked away that you noticed the meeting had ended. People were standing clustered in groups, and you were unable to decipher what each conversation had really been about as you were preoccupied with finding Joel before heading out.

He’d still been near the back with Tommy and other patrolmen Samson, Milo, and- oh, great- Fitz.

You’d been paired up with Fitz on several occasions, only getting to know him well enough to stand him for an entire shift, but still struggled to do so. He was a patrol leader around your age, but still acted like he was in his twenties, in the sense of that he wanted to fuck every woman available in Jackson. Every time you’d turn him down, he’d have another girl on his arm the week after, and then a different one after that. And just when you thought he’d given up, he made his rounds back to you in hopes that you’d give him a chance to get in your pants.

Tommy's back had been to you, the four men around him listening to whatever story he'd been telling. You gently patted his shoulder and you stepped beside him so as not to spook him, to which he pulled you in for a side hug/cheek kiss combo and quick good mornin' as he carried on his story. Joel had been on the end of the semi-circle of men, leaving you a spot to settle in next to him. When Tommy got to the height of the tale, the three men erupted in laughter, Joel only shaking his head with a curled lip.

In a moment of reprieve, Fitz took the opportunity to draw the attention to you with a mischievous grin.

“Miler, how’s it that you’ve got the most beautiful woman in Jackson livin’ under the same roof as you, and yet you won’t even claim her?”

Fitz’s tongue poked his cheek as Joel’s jaw tightened at the slight. You caught Tommy giving Joel a smug look before looking down at his feet to hide it. He’d teased Joel for the same thing before, but never as direct or harsh, and definitely not in front of other people. Fitz redirected back to you, “Listen, if he won’t touch ya', I’d be happy to-”

“Who said he didn’t?”

You wanted to punch yourself in the throat immediately, but the wild look on Joel’s face made the lie so fucking worth it. You kept the smirk on your face and stared at Fitz until he grew uncomfortable enough to break contact, ignoring the wide eyed expressions from the rest of them.

“You could probably take some pointers, honestly.” You jerked your thumb at Joel.

Joel continued to burn holes into your head as Tommy, Milo, and Samson tried to stifle their laughter. Fitz rolled his eyes as a redness spread on his cheeks, mumbling an insult and withdrawing himself from the group. You smiled and bit your lip as you watched him walk away, letting out an airy laugh once he was out of sight.

“So, when were you guys gonna-” You and Joel both gestured defensively at Tommy as excuses fell out of your mouths by the second.

“No! We’re not-” you glanced at Joel quickly. “No. That was just to get Fitz to quit his shit.”

Knowing Fritz’s reputation, Tommy didn’t require anymore persuasion, saving you from having to over-explain yourself and wind up looking like a fool in the process. “Well.. we're havin' a thing at the Bison on Friday. Why don't you come down?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, looking at Joel for confirmation if you heard him correctly. “Shouldn’t we.. I don’t know, not be having a thing? Especially after what Maria just said?”

Tommy nodded his head and sighed, knowing exactly that’s what the invitation sounded like. “It’s not- It’s supposed to be a.. morale booster, fuckin’ whatever– it's Maria’s idea, not mine. I'm just supposed to get the word out."

While it felt a little odd, you could understand why she wanted to do it. "I don't know, Tommy, I-"

"Great! See y'all there!" Tommy smirked as he looked between you and Joel and began to walk away. You turned to Joel with disbelief, but he was unphased, conveying how Tommy had roped him into this way before you walked over.

As the room emptied out, you all took it as your cue to leave and begin tending to your responsibilities for the day. Joel had disappeared too quickly for your liking, but you didn’t have the time to sit and chat with him either.

You stopped home to find Ellie, Dina, and Jesse in the kitchen eating breakfast together, chuckling at the idea of the other two essentially being your adoptive children as well for how much they were over.

Ellie offered you a strawberry off her plate and inquired about the meeting with genuine curiosity. Carefully, you explained to them the importance of being aware of their surroundings for the next couple of weeks, and to not stay out past curfew no matter where they were. Meaning if they needed to crash at your house for the night, so be it, and so on and so forth. They found your propositions to be odd, understandably as you didn’t give the proper context as to why, but nonetheless they didn’t question you.

"So.. are you going to the thing on Friday?" Jesse’s inquiry took you by surprise.

"How do you know about the thing on Friday?" You asked like a mother asking her child about something they weren't supposed to know about.

"I ran into Fitz before I got here.”

You rolled your eyes. Fuckin’ Fitz. Of course he’s going. You shifted your weight against the counter, crossing your arms. "Yeah, I am. Why?"

"'Cause we were gonna sneak in if you weren't." Dina mumbled behind her glass of juice.

You tittered at her honesty, your eyebrows now furrowed together. "And why would you guys have to sneak in?"

"Because Fitz said that Uncle Tommy said it was only for adults? Like, older than us." Ellie gestured to the other two and shot you a look of confusion, like you were already supposed to know.

Your expression stayed the same, but your eyes shifted around the room as you thought about the new fact she presented you.

Huh. Only for adults.

Your mouth closed and curled up. It was on brand for Tommy to not have added that important piece of information.

Ellie watched as the gears turned in your head, but you didn't give her the opportunity to pick at your brain as you changed the subject to Charlotte's request.

“Well, Ms. Charlotte needs you two to help her today.” You pointed your fingers at the girls, who shared an excitement to be with the kids. Keeping one finger on them, you averted the other to Jesse. “And you need to get ready to head out, Mr. Almost-Patrol-Leader.”

The kids rushed to clean up their dishes and grab their bags to get to it. Before running out the door, they each gave you their own special way of saying goodbye.

“Thanks for letting me eat your food!”

“See you later, love you!

“Love you more than Ellie does!”

You beamed at the door after it closed.

For some reason, you thought Joel would've been home. You imagined that if he had been present for the conversation, he definitely would've dropped a sarcastic remark somewhere to illustrate his dismay for Fitz or the party. But he wasn't, and it made you feel off.

You were still leaning against the counter in deep thought, feeling.. oddly familiar in the spot. It had only been months ago when you stood here, tea in hand, sharing a.. moment.. with Joel. You stared at the empty space where he had left the jar of honey that morning, a memory of yet another stolen moment.

The silence overwhelmingly contrasted with the energetic scene you were just part of, forcing you to realize just how empty the house was.

You shook your head, rousing yourself from your thoughts.

Go. Go out and get some work done.

You spent the rest of the afternoon and evening walking through the bustling streets of Jackson, checking in with other leaders and taking note of their preparations for the coming weeks to report back to Maria. You wanted to gather as much information as possible to keep her adequately informed, but it also gave you a reason to push Joel far away from your thoughts.

Through your interactions, you couldn't help but admire the unity and spirit of Jackson. The sense of vigilance permeated the community, there was a collective understanding that every measure mattered in ensuring the safety of everyone. From rigorous training sessions led by guardsmen, sharpening their combat skills and marksmanship, to the meticulous maintenance of weapons and ammunition, no detail was overlooked.

Before returning to the town hall, you brought yourself to the stables. It sat on a hill that overlooked the town with no other buildings near it, making it the perfect getaway when you needed a break from all the noise.

It'd been empty with the exception of a handful of horses in their stalls. In relaxed movements, you swiftly picked up a bucket and flipped it upside down as a makeshift seat, plopping yourself down on it. Hues of red and orange brushed across the sky, the sun sitting just over the top of a mountain far out in the distance. You sat quietly, listening to the buzzing and ticks of nature.

"Can't beat that view." A gentle voice came from behind you, registering as Joel.

The sound of his boots on the floor let you know he approached your side, shoving his hands into his pockets. You nodded in agreement, not seeing the use for words in the moment. Neither one of you looked or even glanced at each other, focusing your attention to the sunset in front of you. The sun descended behind the mountain, dragging the bold colors with it and allowing new hues of blue and purple to replace it. The town lights began to come on, flickering up and down the streets. A soft yellow glow illuminated the stables.

You hadn't seen him all day after the meeting, but now here he was, joining you in your small time of solace. Honestly, you didn't expect him to be there. If he had gone out for his shift around noon, he wasn't supposed to be back for another few hours. You thought that maybe Tommy switched his shift last minute, or that you just remembered his schedule wrong for the week. Either way, you weren't going to poke and prod. Your thoughts had pivoted back to this morning.

“Do you think she’s not telling us something?”

He furrowed his eyebrows momentarily before relaxing. “Maybe.”

You stood up and slid the bucket off to the side, beginning to pace at the edge where the wood met the grass. Joel watched as you brought your hands to your hips and your eyes stared down at your feet, placing themselves one in front of the other as if they threatened to trip over thin air.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to this. It all felt so sinister. You wanted to be mad at yourself– How could you have gone so long without realizing that there’d been people out there watching, judging, and assessing every move? But also, how could you have known? What were the signs you were supposed to be looking for?

“People hide things when they’re scared.”

His words stopped your pace, and fuck if they hit a little too close to home. You faced him with a perplexed expression etched on your face and a light desperation in your voice. “But why is she scared?”

You weren’t looking for a legitimate answer, you just wanted him to see where your train of thought was at. You searched his eyes in hopes that he shared the same doubts. That something bigger was in the picture.

“Tommy thinks they’re tracking us on patrol.” He shrugged his shoulders again, his eyes first glancing down at the ground before landing on you. He shifted his weight to his one foot almost cautiously. "Seems that way, I guess."

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you tried to take deep breaths. Your hands ran through your hair to stimulate the light-headed feeling that was spreading quickly. No fucking way.

“How long?”

Your eyebrows were knitted together and your eyes narrowed at Joel's. He brought his hands to his hips and turned himself towards Jackson, staring off into the distance, where somewhere between all those mountains, rivers, and forests, danger lurked. The weight of silence hung heavy in the air, a tangible presence that seemed to amplify the gravity of the situation.

“Been runnin’ into the same people for a couple months, at least.”

Months. They had fucking months on you. And only now had Jackson realized it. Yet, Joel seemed indifferent in conveying this to you. You felt that all the air had been knocked out of your lungs, and you turned away, dragging a hand down your mouth to cover your mouth, muffling an oh my fucking god. You reverted back to how you thought about how blissfully unaware you were about all the times they could’ve taken or killed you, or Joel, or– you whipped around to him.

“She cannot go on patrol anymore.” He looked at you with a somber expression, his gaze growing with concern as the lines on his forehead deepened. You didn’t notice as he drew closer to you as you began to think of the worst case scenarios. “I’m sorry, Joel- But she can’t. God forbid something-”

You’d been talking a million miles a minute and staring right into his chest, yet didn’t see his hands coming up to cradle your face and make you look up at him. In his eyes, you saw his worry as you lost yourself in your own head. He saw how troubling you found the entire matter to be, and knew that it would eat at you until it was put to rest.

“Please, don’t let her.” Your hands wrapped over top of his as your voice broke in a final plea.

His hands were rough and calloused, yet when they held you, you’d think that he’d held everything in life this softly. His thumbs ran over your cheekbones, eyes flickering between your own. If the circumstances were different, maybe you’d take your chance and crash into him. But when he looked at you like this? Man, it didn’t get much better than that.

“Yes ma’am.”

In his response that probably should’ve made either of you withdraw, neither of you did. His eyes quickly glanced down at your mouth, and you involuntarily did the same to him. You said his name, but it was barely audible. He brought his hand to the back of your hand and guided you into his chest, wrapping his arm around you.

“Hey,” he cooed, “we’re gonna be okay.”

His words had a profound effect on you. Those simple words said with such an assurance and sincerity that you so desperately wanted to believe him without question. It echoed in your head.

We're gonna be okay.

You don't know when, but at some point over all the years with Joel, it became something more than just surviving together. It became that you were unofficially his, and he was unofficially yours, with no room for anyone but Ellie inbetween. But still, you found yourself wondering if it would ever be more than just that. If he ever felt the same pull, the magnetic force that constantly drew you towards him.

You couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood the depth of your own feelings. If he grasped the significance of these moments that left your heart racing. Did he know how often you spent thinking about him, replaying conversations in your mind, searching for hidden meaning in every word and gesture like you were right now?

You buried your chest into his chest and nodded, a silent acknowledgement at best, allowing his words to sink in for what they were worth.

"Yeah, we're gonna be okay."

You didn't believe yourself for a second.

[avatarskywalker78]

It's Work-in-Progress Wednesday and I have stuff to share!! First something from a new WIP even though I said I wasn't going to start any until I'd finished some but it turns out that's not how it works. The premise is this; in July of 2015, an interdimensional portal opens above Earth-3 and a man falls out, apparently dead of a gunshot wound to the chest - only when Jay Garrick gets him to the hospital he promptly bursts into blue flames and heals himself. Two weeks later, he wakes up, but he can't remember anything at all. Not his name or his history or - more importantly - how he got shot. Aside from strange dreams of lightning, everything is a blank - and yet when Jay talks about speedsters and superheroes it all seems strangely familiar...

Part of him has been hoping his appearance would spark something, even if it was just a snippet, but no such luck - blonde-ish hair, blue-eyed, square-jawed, about five-ten... Yeah, him and about 12 million others. He doesn't even have a cool scar or a birthmark - instead he's just...well, average looking, really. The blond hair is a little jarring, like he's not used to it being blond - maybe I dyed it, he thinks, but for the life of him he can't remember what colour. It's a minor point, given he doesn't remember anything else about his life, but it bugs him just the same. His clothes don't yield any clues either. Admittedly his t-shirt is gone - bloodstained with a bullet hole through it, so it was unsalvagable - but apparently that was a light blue. There's some black jeans and white sneakers but no accessories or anything, no pendants or bracelets or rings, so presumably he's unmarried...again, it's average. He's a single white American man with a boring taste in clothes. Yeah, that really narrows it down.

(This is titled the 'Thawne amnesia fic' but to be honest I feel like it's obvious which one this is so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ like it turns out this isn't going to be the core mystery in this fic)

I also wrote some more for my 'Tory is a Barnes' AU - this bit is from Mike's POV and he's having one of the worst times of his life.

A father was supposed to protect his children - it was, in fact, thier main purpose. He'd failed abysmally, and the guilt threatened to choke him as it wound its away around his heart - nothing would ever, ever erase the image of his little girl lying in a hospital bed with bandages on her body and bruising on her face. Everything he'd done to try to protect his children from Cobra Kai and they'd still gotten caught up in it. It made him want to hit something. Or someone. Johnny Lawrence, mainly, because the stupid bastard had brought back Cobra Kai for god knew what reason - teaching kids how to be confident? Bullshit. The moment those students of his played dirty in the AVT he should've stepped up and de-escalated things. Instead he'd done the opposite, brought Kreese of all people back and it had spiralled from there - finding out from his kids just how bad it had gotten was appalling. Hearing about Daniel LaRusso- God, he'd long felt guilty about all that, caught between wanting to reach out and apologise and not wanting to trigger the guy again, but he couldn't help but wonder how much he was to blame for this, for Daniel acting like he had. It couldn't all be about his beef with Lawrence, could it? And Mike had never known the extent of Silver's mind games - that wasn't what he'd been paid for - but between that and Mike's tormenting it must've fucked the guy up- It was perhaps a moot point. What had happened had happened, and in the end people were responsbile for their own decisions. Now Miyagi-Do was probably gonna be shut down, and Cobra Kai...well,he doubted Lawrence would stick around, which left Kreese... The paranoid old bastard who would probably try and bring his niece back into the fold.

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @shrinkthisviolet @starstruckpurpledragon @forchrissy @dream-beyond-the-fantasy

[acourtofthought]

It had never gone this far. They’d exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

There's nothing wrong with that paragraph but it's followed by:

Wrong- it was so wrong.

He didn’t care.

All of a sudden, we took what was innocent and have turned it into something that's a problem. The language "Wrong - it was so wrong" and "He didn't care" now add a negative tone to the situation.

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue-

Azriel’s cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely that he could hardly think. He prayed she didn’t peer down. Prayed she didn’t understand the shift in his scent.

Back to nothing wrong with those two paragraphs. Az is expressing lustful thoughts and they aren't anything that would be considered offensive to Elain.

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she’d make.

Now we're back to negative language again. He's ONLY thought of Elain the dead of night, even when his shadows (basically his companions) have gone to sleep. Meaning Elain is pretty much a dirty secret.

Elain bit her lower lip, and it took every ounce of Azriel’s restraint to keep from putting his own teeth there.

“I should go,” Elain said but made no move to leave.

“Yes,” he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He’d beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. But Azriel just stroked her neck again.

Again, I find no fault in the above paragraphs but.........

Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their scars.

Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege for his fingers to touch her skin, tainting her with his presence.

But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.

Here we go again. More negative phrasing. Elain is just so trusting and hopeful and she's just so clueless about what a big bad man Az is and he's tainting her with his sheer presence. But if this big bad man could just have one moment with her than he'll be satisfied and that's all he'll need of this delicate innocent female.

The argument that we have a problem with Azriel's sexual thoughts is the farthest thing from the truth. It's not his sexual thoughts that are the problem, it's all the thoughts that happen in between.

Innocent thought -> It's wrong to be doing this -> Sexy thought -> I don't think of her unless it's in total darkness or secret -> Sexy thought -> She's too pure and I'm too evil so ALL I need from this Female is a single taste of her.

He doesn't want more of Elain's jokes, he doesn't want more of her smiles. He doesn't want more of her wisdom. All he wants is a single taste of this pinnacle of innocence and perfection. Add into it the fact that he's about to actually be intimate with her and all he can focus on is how it's wrong and he's bad and he's tainting her.

That is why this scene is not romantic. If he's spending 50% of his time focused on the negative then that's 50% of his attention that the female is missing out on. That's 50% of his thoughts being dedicated to the wrong things. That's 50% of the time thinking about how much he hates himself as he's about to hook up with someone.

I'd rather a Male have a little more enthusiasm when getting ready to hook up with me rather than him being unable to stop dwelling on his self loathing 🤷

[kiaslana]

reposting all of the old uquizzes i took under read more

♡. HOW ARE YOU RUINED ? you are so lonely. you are miserable in your solitude . you hate that you cannot bring yourself to reach out , to ask for help . you will be forgotten by all who never knew you . your biggest fear is that you will die alone , and you know this fear will be seen to fruition . you refuse to extend yourself beyond the box that others put you in . and it is a box that no one dare come near . you are lonely because you are afraid of yourself .

♡. WHAT SOFT ROMANCE CLICHE ARE YOU ? love at first sight. let's be real , only children believe in " love at first sight. " but you're a hopeless romantic probably sitting around in coffee shops waiting to meet " the one. " and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that . infatuation at first sight is more accurate . you are the moment when two people lock eyes , and the whole world stills . nothing is there but you and them . and there is suddenly a strong sense of longing . you love love , don't deny it . flowers , chocolates , the whole nine yards . because of this you are loved by many . hopefully you know it too : you are loved .

♡. WHAT COLOR DOES YOUR LOVE FEEL LIKE ? warm burnt orange. Riding off into the sunset, the hope of a happy ending, the bitter after taste that still in it's own way smells kinda great. Your love is all bitter hopefulness, all about a broken heart that refuses to quit, all about the unshakable knowledge that a burning fire has a great comforting warm and a soft glowing light, all about the way when the sun comes down there's a beautiful starry night. It's stubbornness, it's the refusal to give up, the clutching of broken shards despite the searing pain and being adamant that dammit you can still make a beautiful stained glass window out of it. Yours is a screaming heart, a pleading love, a bitter and almost belligerent hopefulness that things will still work out even if you have to roll up your sleeves and make them. And god, aren't you tired? Isn't your heart heavy? Is all your hard work worth it? Don't you just want to curl up and let it be? Let the fire turn to ashes and the sky turn dark and let love die down and watch people leave? But you don't, do you? You're the bravest out of all of us, so you pick up the pieces and you keep going, you keep believing and you keep your heart full of hope because some day. Some day you know you'll get it. You keep riding off into the sunset and you keep filling my heart with hope as you go because god, how do I wish you finally get it too.

♡. WHAT FLAVOR IS YOUR SOUL ? rosemary. ah, the old soul, nice to meet again. the time of ages is etched into your bones, you see clearly. you've watched the heartache in this realm and sworn to solve it. but kindness without limits is self destruction. oh little leaf, strong and wise, you seek to bring peace with your presence. I'd be wrong to say you fail at this effort, but you mustn't set yourself on fire to keep others warm. you wish to please everyone, to protect them all. but if you shield the saplings from the sunlight they will never grow, and you one day will wither. protect yourself too. you know there are no happy heroes, so don't be one. be a friend. your loved ones will not forsake you for not being perseus slaying all their demons. you have your own monsters, why not meet them first before you conquer anyone else's nightmares. oh true-hearted paladin you are brave, and you are good enough. you know that right? be true to yourself, one cannot do anything saintly if they did not tend to their own wounds first.

♡. WHAT DOES YOUR HEART LOOK LIKE ? a compass that doesn't waver. You are someone who is certain of what you want . Maybe you always have been , or maybe you made a discovery that you haven’t been able to tear your eyes away from . Your heart is set and certain . You fight endlessly for your goals . Above all else , you know who you are and what you are trying to achieve . Just be careful not to tear yourself or others apart in pursuit of your ideals .

♡. WHY ARE YOU UNLOVABLE ? you just want it too badly. you love with your whole body , it's not bad , but it's overwhelming . sometimes giving others space can be okay , i know you're scared of losing them but it will be better in the long run if you also learn how to be your own person . codependency is scary , but you are brave .

[golden-gypsy]

Blue

Pearl Jam fanfic

Wrote this one-shot about a week or 2 ago when I was sick and just thought I'd share here too in case anyone wants to read. It's also on ao3 and Wattpad. Hope some people enjoy!♡

And of course, this is entirely a work of fiction. All real characters are just used for fictional purposes and nothing more. No disrespect or anything of that nature is meant towards anyone.

Summary: A young woman travels across a desolate landscape with her two companions, searching for something better. But, nothing is quite as it seems.

Warning: I don't think there's any warnings unless you count pg13-ish sexual content... or tobacco use.

Eddie Vedder x ofc

☆☆☆☆☆

The sweat trickled down the nape of her neck as she tiredly lifted one foot, then the other, repeating the process over and over again. They felt heavy, weighed down with fatigue and the unforgiving heat radiating off the sun scorching them from up above. The cloth she had fashioned into a headband was soaked through with sweat, rendering it useless as she wiped the damp from her brow. It burned as it dripped into her eyes, singeing the surface and blurring her vision more so than it already was. Squinting, she looked ahead, trying to sharpen the lines that had long since become muddled together. There wasn't much to see anyway, aside from a few bare trees and patches of dying grass scattered across the barren and hardened landscape.

“Are you okay, Emmy? Do you need to take a break or anything?”

She turned to the voice next to her. Other than his name being Eddie, she didn't know much about him, but she felt like she knew him somehow. From somewhere before here. From another life, perhaps. Because, she knew for a fact that she didn't belong here.

Eddie didn't belong here either.

“Yeah… I think I could sit down for a minute.”

He smiled at her, the slight indent of his dimples barely visible, and pointed to a weathered tree not far ahead. “Let's go there. We'll at least get a little bit of shade.”

She nodded, adjusting the bag she carried on her back and glanced back at the rusted wagon that Eddie was pulling behind him. Mike was asleep in there, face covered with a hat to protect his skin from the sun. They had stumbled across the young boy in a dilapidated house when they were seeking shelter one night. He was alone, said his parents had left to find food but never came back. She and Eddie had waited there with him for close to a week before they were able to convince him to come with them. Mike's parents weren't coming back; she doubted they were even still alive. They asked what few passers-by they crossed paths with if they had any news of his parents, but thus far it had proven to be a useless endeavor. That was another thing though.

Mike didn't belong here either.

They reached the tree, and while the shade was meager, her overheated skin still thanked her for the respite. She pulled the straps of her bag off her shoulders, letting it drop to the ground while she rolled her aching neck in circles. The headband was saturated with sweat, so she untied it, letting her hair fall to her shoulders as she shook it loose. Her curls were dingy and perpetually caked with dust. She couldn't remember a time when they weren't, but she liked to imagine that her dusky hair was once vibrant with color… once upon a time ago.

She had a feeling though…

That somewhere beyond the desolate backdrop, there was a utopia full of everything from her most magnificent dreams.

She knew she didn't belong here.

Eddie was crouched on the ground, unlatching his guitar case. She couldn't remember meeting Eddie; it was like he'd always been there. His guitar as well. How many times had she tried to convince him to get rid of it? It took up space; it wasn't a necessity, but it was all in vain. Eddie was one with that guitar. It was a part of him, and as she watched while his fingers ran lovingly down its neck, she wondered what that might feel like. To be loved by someone like Eddie, cherished even. She couldn't remember if she had ever been loved by anyone.

She didn't mind the guitar so much anymore.

How many times now had he lulled her to sleep with soft strumming and the earthy baritone of his voice? How many times had his blue blue blue eyes met hers while she tried to pretend she wasn't watching him play? How many times… how many times… how many times… she rested her head on his shoulder as he played something she had never heard before. Something new.

Something strangely familiar.

His hair was pulled back, but a few strands had come loose, the earthy stands tickling her forehead. Earthy like his voice. That was her favorite way to describe Eddie. Earthy. A steady, grounding presence who kept her knees from buckling due to the shaking ground beneath her feet.

She couldn't remember a time without Eddie.

The song he played was ethereal in a way. Otherworldly. Like it could guide her through a maze of darkened tunnels, and at the end would be the utopia she dreamed of. Rushing waters, a lush landscape, and she would reach up to sift her fingers through a passing cloud as she drifted down to meet them. For Eddie and Mike would be there too.

Because they didn't belong here.

None of them did.

“What's the name of that one?” she asked after the echo of the final chord faded away.

“Oceans.”

She shifted so that she was looking up at him, his jawline coated in a light stubble. “Hmm… do you think we'll ever see the ocean?”

He smiled down at her, and she wished she could breathe it in. “I have seen the ocean.”

“When?”

“A long time ago.” His face lowered to his guitar again, eyebrows pulled together. “Sometimes I wonder if it was real.”

“I don't think I'll ever see it.”

His eyes met hers again, and they were blue blue blue.

“Maybe you already have, and you just don't remember.”

She watched him, and she could envision him at the ocean. A lone figure on the beach, hair damp from the water instead of sweat and his feet buried in the sand. Maybe that's where he belonged. And she wondered… if maybe she was there with him, in that time she didn't remember. The time before all of this. There would be two figures instead of one. Maybe that's where they both belonged.

She hummed as the images filtered through her head. “What's the song about?”

His grin turned shy as he looked down at his guitar, plucking a few strings before blue became all she could see again. It filled her up and elevated her to the highest of places.

“You've got freckles.”

“What?”

“From the sun.” He wrinkled his nose. “Right here on your nose.” His thumb gently swiped down the side of hers.

“Oh.” Her fingers ran over her nose, down the side of her cheek. “I didn't realize.”

“It's cute.”

She didn't realize it at the time, but he never answered the question. He was good at that, evading, only offering bits and pieces at a time. Maybe that's because she had nothing to give in return. After all, she couldn't remember her life before Eddie. 

“I'm hungry.” 

Mike's voice startled her, and she jumped as she peered over her shoulder at him. He was sitting up in the wagon, long dark hair matted on one side of his head. Persuading him to sit still while she brushed it was never easy, but cutting it was not an option. Anytime the suggestion was made, he recoiled, tears welling up in his sad brown eyes. At some point, she'd have to trim it though. It was already well past his shoulders.

Eddie nudged her with his elbow, drawing her attention back to shades of blue. “By the time we finish eating, it'll be getting dark. Why don't we just stay here tonight?”

“Out in the open?”

“It's far-off from the road.”

“Do you think we'll be okay?”

“Don't worry.” He smirked, his dimples making another appearance. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up to grab the canned vegetable soup from her pack. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

They were running low on food, but that was something to worry about tomorrow. Maybe they'd find another abandoned store or a community with some friendly people, but that was something to think about tomorrow. Tonight, they'd fill their bellies with the soup she cooked on the fire, and maybe Eddie would tell them stories of distant and not so distant places that would ignite her imagination into roaring flames.

The temperature always dropped once the sun set, from one extreme to another. She wanted nothing more than to keep the fire burning, but it would attract attention from those who could possibly be traveling along the far-off road or beyond. And if there was one thing she could never forget, it was that it was that the people who roamed at night often carried ill intentions.

So, the three of them sat wrapped in blankets around the dying campfire, counting down the long-forgotten minutes until sleep claimed them. Tomorrow, the worries would return, and they would set out on foot towards their next destination… whatever that may be. And it would go on and on and on, with no end in sight. Sometimes she wondered where exactly they were trying to get to.

“Will you play a song, Eddie?” Mike asked, his face peeking out from under his blanket.

“Um, yeah. What do you wanna hear?”

Emmy sat forward, wrapping her blanket tighter around herself. “Play the one you played earlier. Oceans.”

His eyes caught hers with a soft smile, and he reached for his guitar. An extension of himself, and she could see the sea of blue that encompassed him.

She didn't mind the guitar so much anymore.

He played the song, and it was just as lovely as before. Maybe more so, if such a thing were even possible. If he wasn't the ground beneath her, she'd worry that it would split open and swallow her whole. But, Eddie was the earth, and his eyes were the sky, and the ocean was his essence. She was waiting for the day when he'd spread his wings and fly.

But…

She didn't recall a time before Eddie. 

And she didn't know if time would remain after Eddie. 

The weight on her arm was nothing more than a sleeping Mike, lulled to sleep by the sound of earth's embrace. She understood; how many times had that happened to her now? Countless upon countless, dream after dream. A million different lifetimes that were somehow carried by the same background music.

She wondered what she'd dream of tonight.

She actually kind of liked the guitar now.

Eddie carried Mike to the wagon, lined with a blanket to add some cushion. She and Eddie would lay their blankets on the ground nearby, using their packs as makeshift pillows. They never slept at the same time though, alternating who kept watch while the other one would try to secure a few hours of sleep. The persistent fatigue was a never-ending battle.

“I'll take the first watch,” Eddie said after Mike was secure in the wagon.

“You barely slept at all last night. I'll take first watch.”

“I don't need a lot.”

“Just try then. I'll wake you up before too long.”

That was a lie. If he succeeded in falling asleep, she wouldn't wake him any sooner than need be. Maybe she wouldn't wake him at all. Eddie was constantly going without, letting her sleep that extra amount of time while his own body was further depleted of energy.

She would be fine, sitting and watching the stars, knowing that Eddie and Mike were safely sleeping beside her.

She didn't know how life would be without them.

Her back was against the weathered tree as she sat, listening to sounds of their breathing fill the night. Everything else was silent. She felt like maybe she remembered the chirping of crickets, maybe the hoot of an owl, but she couldn't recall where those thoughts came from. But, it seemed like, at one point in time, that the night wasn't engulfed in such silence.

Their breathing was a comfort though. It was a reminder that she wasn't alone. Even though she would never admit it, that was what scared her the most. Being alone in the world the way it was. She had people to take care of her though, and in turn, she would take care of them too.

“Emmy?”

Her head was tilted up toward the sky, and she turned to see Eddie lying on his side with his head propped on his arm. His hair was a wild tangle of curls around his face, and she wanted to reach out to smooth it away with her fingers, but she didn't dare do so.

“You're already awake?”

“You let me sleep too long.” His voice was raspy with sleep.

“Not long enough.”

He shook his head and patted the space next to him. “Come sit with me.��

Her eyes stayed focused on his smile as she sat beside him, legs folded underneath her.

“Not like that.” His arms reached towards her, hands pulling her down faster than her body would allow her to react. 

She lost her breath temporarily, as if she forgot how. His face was so close to her own that maybe her not breathing was a conscious choice, fear that any slight movement would cause the moment to disappear. They were facing each other, side by side under a dingy blanket, his hand resting lightly on her hip. If she moved or even breathed, she worried she would lose the warm weight of his hand. She wanted it to stay.

She wanted him to stay.

“That's better,” he said, his thumb moving up and down, up and down.

“What was wrong with how I was sitting?” she dared to ask.

“You looked uncomfortable.” He lifted his shoulder in an easy shrug.

The motion caused her hand to shift, and she noticed… only then… the placement on his chest, below his shoulder, almost where his heart dwelled. She could feel the beating underneath the palm of her hand, a steady pulse to show that they were living and breathing… and existing. Her fingers curled into the thin fabric of his shirt, a reflex, almost as if she wanted to soak in the life that thrummed beneath her fingertips. Draw it closer. Bask in the light that radiated off the earth and the sky and the ocean.

“We both can't fall asleep.” Her voice was a whisper, flitting away on tiny, shaking wings. 

“I'm not falling asleep. I just want to lie here with you for a while.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

She thought again of the song he played earlier, Oceans, and how he said he had seen the ocean before. All she could remember of her life were days spent walking on the lifeless world she found herself in. It didn't seem real that oceans could even exist, but she believed what Eddie told her was true. She knew he would never lie to her. That was one of the few things she could count on, and it was so rare to have anything to count on.

“Why are you so tense?” he asked, and she didn't have to look to know he was smiling.

“I'm not.”

“You should relax.”

“I am,” she countered.

“You're not. Am I making you nervous?”

She allowed her gaze to lift up to blue blue blue, his worry showing itself in the lines creasing his forehead. He had a way of transitioning so easily from playful to intense. It made her head spin at times, dizziness just by being in his presence.

Her fingers smoothed over the fabric of his shirt. “You could never make me nervous, Eddie.”

That wasn't quite the truth though. Eddie made her nervous all the time, simply with his close proximity. It was such a strange swirling of contrasting feelings… because he was a comfort too. He comforted her all the time. That very same mixture swelled up inside her with the touch of his fingers on her bare skin, just underneath the hem of her shirt. It was a hesitant touch, like maybe how he would dip his toes in the ocean water to test the temperature. She could see him doing that.

She could also see him running in at full speed.

“Can I ask you a question?” she breathed as his fingers ghosted higher.

“Of course.”

“Do you think we'll ever find what we're looking for?”

She watched as his eyelashes brushed against the tops of his cheeks, and she wanted to run her fingertips just underneath them. But, she didn't dare do so.

His fingers were higher still, moving along her ribcage, and her skin tingled everywhere he touched. For who can say they were touched by the earth and the sky and the ocean all at once? The feeling was new, yet familiar. He was familiar, and he was here with her, there with her… just as he'd always been.

They didn't belong here.

Those same eyelashes rose again, and time could have stopped for all she knew. Maybe it already did. Maybe these were the last moments she'd spend on this godforsaken land. That would be alright with her. She'd see Eddie in the next life and the one after.

“I think…” he said as the tip of one of his fingers brushed against the underside of her breast. “I think that we already have.”

Was he right? They had each other. The three of them. They were something like a family.

A family…

It was getting harder to think. Her mind was hazy, and all she could see was blue blue blue. It was everywhere. In the sky above her, in the earth beneath her, in the ocean that she may or may not have seen. It was in the touch of his warm fingers on her cool skin, imprinting her with currents of blue. It was in her thoughts, as all she could focus on was how she wanted him to move his fingers higher still.

And he did… 

And he did… 

And he did.

“I can still see the blue in your eyes, even in the dark.” His voice was a gentle wave, washing over the sea of blue. 

“Me too.”

His fingers moved in such a deliciously tortuous way, and nothing else existed in that moment aside from the two of them. She could see him through the fog of her vision as if he were the only thing that made sense. The only thing that was clear. The only thing that was true in their world full of deceit. His lips only barely brushed against hers for a fraction of a second, maybe less, but it was something she'd never experienced before. The frailty of the wind seemed to pick up speed. The tree behind them seemed to shake from its roots to the tips of its branches. The ground seemed to tremble as if their world would soon fall apart.

The air changed, and it was magnetic. It was dragging her away as she fought to stay closer.

Could Eddie feel it too?

It was only less than a second, but the signs were there.

“I had a bad dream.”

Mike.

They pulled away from each other simultaneously. She could see hints of fervor in that blue blue blue.

Maybe Eddie did feel it too.

“Come on,” she told Mike, lifting the blanket. 

Eddie patted his head, exhaling slowly. “I'm going to go keep watch.”

Her eyes unintentionally followed him as he took her former place at the base of the weathered tree. He leaned his head back against the trunk, gazing at the stars between the gaps in the branches, and she thought maybe Eddie could reach out and grab one if he felt so inclined. Something about him told her that it would be possible for him to.

Mike curled up next to her under the blanket, soon fast asleep. It wasn't long before she drifted off herself, thinking about Eddie and the stars in the sky.

She dreamed of the ocean that night, of what she thought it might be. Mike was sitting beside her on the sand as they built a castle. An elaborate castle, with turrets, walkways with parapets, and a moat surrounding the outside of the castle walls. It resembled what she thought a castle might look like, for she'd never seen a castle before, and it grew higher and higher, wider and wider. Mike's laughter danced across the surface of the sand, and she'd never seen him so happy. She wanted the sounds of his laughter to last forever.

A shadow was cast over their ever-growing castle. She knew not to be frightened though. It was a face she'd seen time and time again. His hair was damp from water instead of sweat, and his feet were buried in the sand. The light reflected off his eyes, and they were a bright, clear blue blue blue. They were almost crystal-like, and he stood in front of the sun so that the yellows and oranges surrounded him in a brilliant halo sent from the heavens above. He was beautiful. Painfully so. And she wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn't dare do so.

This was where Eddie belonged.

He stood over her, tucking a water-soaked curl behind his ear. “I thought I might find you here.”

“You did?”

“Of course.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “This is where you belong.”

And that's what she wanted.

She wanted to belong.

The next day was the same as any other. They woke up and ate some dried-out bread she had made some days before, taking small sips of water. Everything had to be taken in moderation; none of them knew when they would stumble across more supplies or even a source of water. They carried four jugs for water and only had two left that were full. She always found herself becoming anxious once they reached the two-jug mark. The water went too fast, and she wished they could find a way to carry more… not just water though, more of everything.

But, more than anything, she wished the land around them wasn't dying.

Eddie didn't mention anything about the night before… but then, she didn't either. A part of her couldn't help but wonder if it even happened. But, she could still feel the sensation of his touch along her skin, and she shivered more than once even in the unforgiving heat of the daylight. So… it had to be real. It couldn't have been just a prelude to her dream from last night.

Her dream… 

The utopia that she prayed for every night to magically appear just beyond the next hill.

Or maybe the next…

The last hill.

“I hope we find water today,” she said after they had walked a long while in silence.

Eddie turned to her, a hint of a smile playing along his lips. “We'll find some. Don't worry.”

Her eyes were drawn automatically to his mouth, the curve of his lips, the indent of his dimples. The brief moment in time when she felt them against her own was permanently ingrained in a corner of her mind. She'd keep it there and pull it to the forefront every so often to reminisce upon in case it were to never happen again; she didn't want to forget.

Eddie's grin grew wider, and she knew he must have noticed her staring, stealing fleeting glances as they walked and walked… and walked. His pace slowed, and he inched closer to her, holding out his hand without saying a word. She looked down at his fingers stretched out toward her, his grin softening as he took in her hesitancy. But, she didn't want to think too much about it and whatever implications it could hold. It may have meant nothing but merely a friendly gesture, and she didn't want to think of the burning that would leave inside.

She interlaced her fingers with his before her doubt could lead her away. Because she wanted to be closer to Eddie, and she smiled to herself with the knowledge that maybe she already was.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as they continued walking. “You should smile more often.”

And she realized that maybe she should.

They didn't take many breaks as they traveled, wanting to cover as much distance as they could before the sun set. The landscape hadn't changed at all throughout the last days and the nights and the yearning for something more to come along. As it did every day, her vision became blurry in the blistering heat, the outer edges turning in their slow and lazy vibrations. The sweat trickled down her back, clogged up her nose, and caused her clothes to attach to her skin. But, she still held Eddie's hand as they wandered forward, and he never tried to pull away as he walked in the center of their group. Her on one side and Mike on the other.

They were almost like her family.

Maybe they were her family, one that she created all on her own.

“Hey, what's that?” Mike asked, his tiny hand pointing up ahead.

She saw it then, a wooden house in the distance. Chances were it was abandoned, and they could only hope that it wasn't cleaned dry from previous passers-by. It was rare to find a solitary house that was still lived in. Sometimes they'd come across small communities, communal-type living where everyone played a role, and in return, protection was provided through larger numbers. She never questioned why they didn't stay in one of those communities. It would have seemed like the wise thing to do, but it never fit quite right. There was something else waiting for them out there, and it propelled their feet to keep moving.

But, to find a lone lived-in house? That was the biggest rarity of all. Simply because it was too dangerous, too easy for someone to come in and take over. Some of the things that people would do were too horrific to even think about.

As they neared the small wooden house though, the sight of something caused her to grip Eddie's hand tighter, caused him to let go of the wagon to shield Mike with his other arm.

Not something though.

Someone.

Two someones rocking on a swing on the front porch.

One of them had his long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, taking a slow draw of the cigarette sitting between two fingers. The other one looked taller, and he wore a straw hat decorated with a blue and purple striped band covering his long blonde hair.

She let go of Eddie's hand and took a few steps closer.

“Emmy, what are you doing?” he asked urgently.

She ignored Eddie and spoke to the two men instead. “I know you.”

“Yup,” the one with the cigarette replied.

What was his name?

Her feet carried her up the few rickety steps until she stood before them. She heard Eddie telling Mike to stay back before the creaking of the steps told her that Eddie was behind her. Really though, she didn't need to hear the steps to know; she could feel his presence from anywhere. 

He was her earth and her sky and her ocean all at the same time.

She pointed to the cigarette that ponytail held. “Can I have one?”

Stone. His name was Stone.

“I didn't know you smoke.” Eddie's puzzled voice behind her shook her eardrums, as only the earth could.

She didn't either, but it seemed like something she'd do. In that moment.

“There's a lot about me you don’t know.”

His eyes flickered over the features of her face before he answered. ���I know.”

The one named Stone handed her a cigarette and held up the lighter to ignite the tip. She leaned forward to accept the open flame, but instead of hazel hues, she was met with blue blue blue. As far as her eyes could see, it was blue.

She inhaled the burning smoke down her throat, into her lungs, staring into Eddie's searching eyes as he passed the lighter back to Stone. He had a way of looking past her, through her, into the heart of her that she didn't know existed. It was in that way that he could both calm her and send a shock through every nerve in her body.

But, she knew now where he belonged, and it wasn't here. 

She hoped she could remember.

Eddie delicately removed the cigarette from her fingers, before she was even done with her exhale. As he brought it to his own lips, she was reminded of their almost kiss, how his mouth was now where hers once was. It was silly to think of something like that at that moment, but one can hardly help where the mind wanders at times. Even at this most critical juncture, when her thoughts should have been elsewhere, it was always him. Always.

“What is this place?” Eddie asked the two men on the swing, his eyes never straying from hers.

The one in the hat answered. “You don't wanna go in there.”

And his name was Jeff. 

She knew that now.

Eddie's head jerked to the side. “Why not?”

“Because no one who goes in there ever comes out,” Jeff said.

There was no explanation why. It was simply that. She knew it to be true though… somehow. Maybe for the same reason that she knew their names. Stone and Jeff. They were strangers, but still she could recognize their faces.

She stepped around Eddie, coming to stand in front of the door that led inside the house that was full of unknowns. It could be her demise, but she had to go open the door.

Eddie's hand found hers again. One last time. Or not. The possibilities were endless. “What are you doing?”

“I have to go in.”

“Why?”

She couldn't give him the answer he wanted, whatever that was. Her head shook as she gazed into those eyes that were so blue blue blue, the song he sang playing in her head as she saw his hair damp from water instead of sweat and his feet buried in the sand. It was the loveliest of visions, and she ached for it to come true.

She had to go in.

“Will you sing that song for me?” she asked him.

“What?”

“Oceans.”

He squinted at her as though she were crazy. Maybe she was. “You want me to sing it now?”

“Will you?” She took his hand in both of hers. “Please?”

And he did… 

And he did… 

And he did.

It was just as beautiful as the night before. If not more so. Because while his eyes were the sky, lifting her up so she could fly… his voice was the earth, destined to make sure her feet landed safely on the ground. And the song… the song was his essence as currents rolled above and beneath him, through him and around him.

That's where he belonged.

“I'm scared,” she said after he finished his song.

His hands clasped around the top of her shoulders, eyes intense in that particular way that only he could manage. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

She knew he'd never lie to her. That was one of the few things she could depend on in a world so full of falsity. And it convinced her that she needed to follow through as she reached behind her and turned the knob, the door swinging wide open. It was almost time, but there was still something left unshared. A final chapter to close the story, but it was just part one. There would be many chapters left to come as there was still the next life and the next… and the one after.

Her hands cupped both his cheeks as she held his face close to her own. Closer… closer… and closer still. She worried what would happen as the air began to shift around them. The signs were there, but she didn't want to live in the regret that she didn't know.

His breath fanned across her face as he drew her nearer, and she caught it as she pressed her lips to his in what was the ultimate defiance. They weren't supposed to be here, but they belonged somewhere… together. 

And just as Eddie was the earth and the sky and the ocean, she was the fire, burning the fraying ends away one strand at a time. The heat from the flames swelled up inside of her until it was too much to contain. It spread forth, nearly uncontrollable as his fingers sifted through her hair and her hands clung to the front of his shirt. They were the only two left on the planet, and it seemed inconsequential that the ground finally cracked and split, lava spewing forth and lapping at their feet as a cruel reminder of what was to come.

It should have been water.

But, the signs were all there.

The heat burned holes in everything it touched, but he held her close, and she didn't want to let him go. She didn't want to… because as his two lips continued to move against her own, she could feel it. Something new and something oh so wonderfully familiar.

Why did she have to let him go?

She could see him disintegrating away, or maybe it was her. And she wanted to hold on, for she suddenly feared she may never see him again. But, Eddie was the earth, and his eyes were the sky, and his essence was the ocean, and she knew somewhere deep within that he would never spread his wings and fly…  not without her. He would carry her with him wherever he chose to go.

He could go wherever he wanted to go, and yet he chose her.

The water would one day be enough to put out the fire.

And then, he was gone.

… 

…

…

She sat up straight in bed and wiped the cold sweat from her brow. The room she was in was small, too much so to hold many things aside from her bed. That was alright with her though; she didn't require much anyway. The tiny round window gave a view of the artificial neon lights and the smoky pollution that lived outside. She felt like she needed to be somewhere, but she couldn't remember where.

Her head swiveled to the side when she heard a knock at the door. 

“Emmy,” the voice called. “Are you ready?”

“I'm here,” she answered in a voice that she guessed must have belonged to her. “You can come in.”

The person outside her door could have been crazy, but she had a feeling…

“What are you doing still in bed?” he asked as he entered her room.

“Um…”

All she could see was blue blue blue. The neon created dancing light specks in his eyes.

“You need to get up. We're gonna get the shit beat out of us if we're late.”

She was confused, but what he said almost made sense; she felt the ache of bruises on her back. “Late for what?”

He stared at her as if she had two heads. Hell, maybe she did. “For work. Come on, we need to go.”

That's right, they had to go to work. That sounded right… but then, it wasn't.

No, it wasn't right at all.

She didn't belong here.

Eddie didn't belong here either.

[rodechi]

Living Anxiety

It is 4am and I am unable to sleep, and so I find myself writing the rough draft of this in the hopes that writing it down will tire me out. To all of you who have noticed me withdrawing more and more lately, I am pulling back the curtain a bit to share a bit of what I have been wrestling with privately.

To give some insight into my home life: it is a house, but not my home. I have lived here in this small podunk town in Tennessee all my life. Opportunities were always few and far between unless you work a dead-end job for pennies on the dollar (TN has no state minimum wage, so a lot of jobs will start you at the federal $7.25/hr -- or less if you work a job that gets tips!) or really enjoy dealing in antique furniture. It's also a terrible place to live as someone queer. My nephew got run off the road just last year because an older man saw him with makeup on, veering toward him and forcing him off the road, calling him slurs in the process. Hell, I STILL have neighbors who are die-hard Trump supporters. Which brings me to my mother. Mercifully, she's very anti-Trump, but in many ways still very conservative. She worked as a nurse nearly 40 years and is set in beliefs from that long ago as well. To her, gender is immutable -- although I have been on HRT for over 2 years now, she doesn't make even the barest effort to acknowledge it. To her, I will always be Daniel, not Wren. Always her little boy. Always "him". I'm not even respected enough to have my own bank account; she has access to view my statements at any time and will frequently question me about purchases I make, money I send to friends and partners, anything. "I want to make sure it's you spending your money, not anyone else." No trust, no boundaries. Hell, she told me once "My boundaries mean that I can ignore yours." In addition, she's developed a victim complex, always blaming me for perceived slights against her that she has imagined. She uses that as fuel to make "jokes" about how she wants to tie me up so I'd miss a flight away or how she'll get me arrested for something just so I wouldn't be able to leave.

With all of that in mind, you can surely see why I would be eager to move away. However, there are a few extenuating factors that make it difficult for me, especially lately. Notably, my lack of income, lack of living history (since I've lived here my whole life), and just sheer logistics.

First off, at the moment, I have no income. I had a job, from April 2018 until January 2022. I worked as a veterinary assistant at a local clinic, since I wanted a job that served a purpose and I love animals. I initially wanted to go to college for it (after failing at another college under a different major), but quickly learned that while I was okay with doing it as a job, I didn't want it to be my career. I was overworked, underpaid, taken advantage of, and regularly given tasks outside my job description and above my paygrade. I was part-time, despite being scheduled for 30 hour workweeks (and frequently having to stay an average of 4 to 6 hours late over the week). As such, no benefits! Woooo! I was also given the job of about 3 to 4 other people, including being the person expected to teach the newer hires, perform tech support, and more roles beyond that. It was a soul-crushing line of work that chewed me up and spit me out. I even had to write up one of my bosses (and got her forced into retirement) because she would punch and kick some dogs, and one of the doctors that replaced her… I still relive a moment where I had to assist him with a euthanasia on a puppy that he botched and did improperly (and illegally!) So while I only worked there just shy of 4 years, it left me with the worst burnout, depression, anxiety, and compassion fatigue I have ever experienced in my life. When I found myself getting impatient and mad at the animals regularly, I knew that was my sign to quit while I could. I should have gotten another job since then, but I was content to live off my savings while I recovered my mental health.

In addition to these issues, I also have been living with a phobia of driving a car. Not just a fear, mind you. An honest-to-God "diagnosed by a psychiatrist" phobia. Not just me being worried I'll get into an accident or anything… Even thinking about being behind the steering wheel of a car is enough to send me into panic attacks. Mom forced me to take Driver's Education in high school, and I forced myself to drive in the hope that I could condition myself to get past it. Instead I had a hellish semester, with the teacher literally telling me "The only reason I'm not failing you is that you didn't crash the car." and criticizing me because "You will do something right 10 times and then screw it up so bad the next it's like you've never done it." It's definitely given me a complex on top of the existing phobia. And so, living in this town where a car is basically mandatory, my options for getting out are very limited.

And so, when one of my partners invited me to move to the West Coast to be with them, I was eager to get out. So we have been spending the past few weeks looking at apartments online, trying to find a place that would take us, even with me being dead weight as I am now with no job, no living history, and mediocre credit. It's been incredibly stressful, and we are still searching. But god if it ain't soulcrushing. Most places require us to have a cosigner, and most places in the area require them to have the frankly-absurd requirement of the cosigner making 4 times the rent. My parents refuse, not wanting to be responsible for "someone you don't know." At this point our options are getting slimmer and slimmer, with the deadline baring down on us.

And so here I am, in a house where I am regularly emotionally abused, in a state that hates me for being pansexual and transgender, trying to move to a state where no apartment will take me because I'm expected to have an income from a job that I can't get until I'm over there. It hurts and it stresses me the fuck out.

I could write so much more, but I'm exhausted and upset. I'm going to nap.

[dollarbin]

World Party Week meets

Sandy Saturday's: Full Moon

I'm surprised that this week's Dollar Bin hero, Karl Wallinger, never covered Sandy Denny. He recorded plenty of the Beatles catalog before his untimely passing this week, always offering his own respectful (or perhaps I should say reverential) takes on everything from Happiness is a Warm Gun to McCartney's tossed off Man We Was Lonely.

But Wallinger never tossed anything off in the studio; like a later day Jeff Lynne, he assembled his textures with care and plenty of gloss.

And so we are left wishing on this Sandy Saturday that he'd had the chance to recreate one of Denny's perfect songs. Indeed, it'd be lovely to hear more covers of Sandy Denny beyond the many takes of Who Knows Where the Time Goes. I've heard very few other song of her's attempted (which makes sense: people cover Dylan because they're convinced they can sing it better than Bob, and who out there thinks they can sing better than Sandy?).

Even so, there are two Denny covers that come to mind as essential.

First, there's Linda Thompson's take on I'm a Dreamer. As Sandy's occasional singing partner and long time friend, Linda had every right to record such a track - and she clearly knew exactly what she was doing. She even let her husband Richard play some guitar behind her:

Not bad, huh? Check out my recent piece on Linda to hear more of this incredible voice, so frank and soaring at once.

The only other essential Denny cover that comes to mind is Yo La Tengo's humble take on By The Time It Gets Dark. Ira Kaplan understands that, unless you're Linda Thompson, the best approach is to simply pay homage (and not compete) with Sandy.

But if I had my choice for a World Party Denny cover I'd choose Full Moon, a track Denny's bumbling husband didn't even include on her final LP Rendezvous.

Take a listen; passing on this track makes Dylan's decision to put The Disease of Conceit on Oh Mercy instead of Dignity or Series of Dreams, or Neil Young's decision to leave Give Me Strength and Everybody's Alone unreleased for 50 years, look savvy.

Unlike just about everything else on Rendezvous, every effort in this piece works together: the strings rise and fall with a simple plan; the bass lingers and nimbly sways; Denny sings and strikes her piano without being bullied by the silly men in the room.

And the clarinet! Oh my good bananas, name me another piece of popular modern music that successfully employs a clarinet (my famous brother, red faced and ashamed for me, is likely assembling a list of 68 clarinet-riddled classics as we speak, alongside the list of great Sandy Denny covers that I failed to mention; and I guess I just thought of one clarinet track: Feist's The Circle Married the Line probably has an entire clarinet consortium playing in it, and that song is mighty fine).

Just imagine what Wallinger could have done with a song like Full Moon. He would have followed Kaplan's lead and sang it simply; his piano and guitar would trade off the solos and everything would be note perfect. The pace would be stately; maybe he'd even have brought in some of his own backing vocals. The full moon would be rising so high above the skies.

Wikipedia tells me that Wallinger had 20 years of unreleased new music in the can when he died. Let's get busy hoping his version of Full Moon is in that horde.

Imagine Karl right now in whatever afterlife suits your fancy. John Lennon's there, gleefully ranting and thoughtful all at once. But Karl knows what's up; he fist bumps John and passes him by, hunting for Sandy's certain glow in the heavens.

[grapecaseschoices]

put “top 5” anything in my ask and i will answer ok go

Top 5 ocs of yours? I'm so curious 👀👀

LMAO. yall so cute <3 so good for my ego and self-esteem.

I've been creating ocs since I was like 14? 15?, bb. That's a lot LMAO. And that doesn't include one off characters from shows/books that I made my own when I played panfandom games. And if I were to do a somewhat honest list [lmao bc top five is genuinely hard.] I'd have to add ocs yall don't know.

But let's see. Um. In no order.

Tai Aeothryn: I don't even remember her. Don't even ask me to say her last name, because I made that SHIT UP. Tai started from a self-insert that became more energetic and meddling and pushy and etc than me. I played her in a Dark Hunters [yes, by Sherrilyn Kenyon] group. Totally lied about my age to get in [DON'T DO THIS KIDS!] and her FC was that actress from Passions. ROFLMAO. This is so funny, because I DON'T remember a lot but so much is coming back to me. ROFLMAO. Psychic damage right now. Tai was 19. And partially Haitian. BECAUSE OF COURSE! [Even tho her FC wasn't.] She was short and mouthy and probably could've done with more fear. She was probably the prototype of a lot of my OCs. She had a few cute nicknames that I don't recall. I know one was 'the Meddler' and I think the other was 'imp'?

So, Ima admit. I very much had a HP phase. A lot of my rp time was HP. It wasn't where I started [see above] but it is where i did most of my writing/met a lot of the people I still write with. THAT. SAAAAID. One OC that ended up surviving That Time was Maxwell B. He had too many surnames, one being Bianchi. How do I solve a problem like Max? Max was charming. I don't usually like to call my characters charming because I feel it's a matter of perspective. If I can get you to feel a character I see/hope will be charming as charming, then job well done. But Max was CHARMING. I feel in an olden days, people would call Max a knave or a rapascallion, but in an 'oh, you!!' sort of way. But the thing is, the most important thing, is Max wasn't half as charming as HE believed himself to be. He was a silly guy. And he knew it. It was part of his personality but it was also on purpose. He was "lazy" and a bit of a prankster, and seemingly, didn't take a lot of thing seriously, so don't go taking him seriously. Which often lead to underestimation of his character and his values [both a matter of his fault and people not looking beyond the surface]; but he was a flirt who was very respectful of boundaries and other's relationships, he was extremely loyal, and while not entirely book smart he was very observant and intelligent. I miss Max a lot sometimes. [Max while not the prototype, he was the culmination of previous prototypes lmao. I haven't done a character like him in a minute tho. Amos and Ferryn are the closest but Amos is an asshole. And Ferryn is -- not a good person. And Max was GOOD. I also don't play either a lot, lmao.]

Andy Yasar.

Kendis [in all their variations]

I don't know who I would give the fifth spot to. There are OCs who I still roll in my head and who's dynamics and exploration still mean a lot to me [like Mason and Desiree, that I still tag. And Mason was proto-Irvin in a sense]. Others whose names I don't remember but who still gut punch me [I don't remembeer my own ocs names werw lmao. I don't remember any names]. However, I think I would have to give this to Spencer

Spencer, I've played in various forms. I loved her because she was basically my bitter, grizzled white man in a young woman's body. She had the daddy issues, the sarcasm, the dislike for socializing, the sharp brain. But she also CARED about her job and was SOFT with like the three [mostly one] people she cared about. She had scars physical and interal, but she still wanted to help people. She had a wicked sweet tooth, lmao. Lollipops were her cigarette. I kind of miss her. I want to write her somewhere but I can never quite get her to fit.

[notmuchtoconceal]

Every couple of weeks I chat with an expert who specialises in ministering to others about abuse. ( )

Originally a mutual friend recommended me to him because he was having difficulties crossing over his threshold into his destiny. I explained the importance of honour when it came to dealing with Leviathan ( o )

[The All] unended his life, and that of his family, with just that simple key

.

One week he mentioned he'd had a series of full-on sessions with several people who were all dealing with devastation that comes from childhood physical abuse. 'They always say the same thing,' he remarked. 'Where was [The All]?' He paused. 'That's not a question, it's an accusation.'

I had to agree.

Then he went on. 'You know, there's another thing everyone says, too. They say that the one good thing that has come out of their experience is that they know they can get through anything in life. They have survived. They have got through it. They have endured. These things always end.'

That thought eventually becomes a life statement: sooner or later, this will end. This too will pass. Behind it is the sneaking hope that I'm one day sooner to this trauma ending.

Sometimes, later in life, when abuse returns and begins to repeat itself and goes on and on, people begin to have quiet misgivings about their life statement. 'This will end' morphs into 'Will this ever end?' and perhaps even 'This will never end.'

'This will end' is a false refuge.

'Will this ever end?' is a doubt.

'This wlll never end' is a lie.

These thoughts don't necessarily have to be the result of extreme abuse. Disappointment on the threshold or extended suffering can plant them deep in our hearts.

All three -- the false refuge, the doubt, the lie -- are matters for repentance. Clinging to hope in the end of suffering, rather than the presence of [The All] is complicity with the enemy. How could [The All] possibly be present, after all? The assumption behind that initial question, 'Why wasn't [The All] there when I needed Him?'

is that He abandoned us.

Now for several weeks before this conversation occurred I'd been suffering from an intensely painful rash on my face. I couldn't find any medication that would make a difference to the hot, gravelly skin condition. It was so bad it often disturbed my sleep. However, the following morning, in that half-way state between sleeping and waking, I touched my ace and thought, 'It's starting to feel a bit better. It's just a matter of time until this is all over.'

Instantly, I bolted upright, remembering the conversation I'd had the previous day and the words, 'It's simply a matter of time until the abuse is over,' and the conclusion that this was a false refuse.

I fled to [The All]. 'This is how I deal with illness, isn't it? It's about time passing, about being one day closer to recovery, rather than You as the healer.' I was shocked at the discovery of my heart's deepest belief. 'Who have I got a convent with?'

[The All] was swift to answer 'Time'.

I knew He wasn't talking about an abstraction. It was some sort of personified being, a dark spirit. I thought about the old stories of Father Time -- Kronos, or Chronos, Saturn. The child devourer -- the elder-god so ravenous that he had to be chained beyond the end of the world lest he eat the present and future as well as the past.

I burst into tears. I wasn't standing against the ultimate abuser at all; I'd thought I was firm in my opposition to it, but instead I was complicit with it. I was crushed by the knowledge of my own hypocrisy and duplicity. Yes, I knew quite well that the heart is deceitful and wicked above all things -- after all, I' unearthed quite a few false refuges in the past -- but that doesn't make a new revelation of the heart's ongoing teachery towards [The All] any less shattering. I sobbed for hours and, when I got over the worst of it, I said to [The All]: 'I don't even know how to repent of this. Human beings are immersed in time -- how do we not put some sort of hope in its passing? The temptation will always be right there, at our elbow.'

'You step into the eternal,' [The All] said. 'You put your hope in [E]mmanuel[le], God is [in] us, and you seek His presence as He is present in the now.'

I've found this to be a relentless tension: a tug-of-war between Time and the Eternal. It's easy to see Time as a refuge -- Time heals all wounds -- and it's just as easy to see it as an abuser -- We feast on time as time feasts on us.

The reason I've wanted to draw this 'face' of the spirit of abuse to your attention is because it's an aspect so easy to miss. When we're renouncing a covenant with Belial, it's essential to include Kronos as a side to its character. The names might seem completely different, yet in Babylon, Kronos was also known as Belus.

Now it may not seem like Time has any connection with a cornerstone but, until we factor in the redeeming of time, we will miss a great deal of the Lord's guidance about overcoming abuse.

[ ]

\

/

\

What is a cornerstone?

The word is a favorite in [Carpenter Cultist] circles, but it's rarely, if ever, explained. At least that's my experience.

What image springs to mind for you when the word 'cornerstone' is mentioned? For some people it's four sandstone-like blocks, positioned at the corners of an imposing old house or office tower. For others, it's a foundation stone -- a brass plaque or marble slab inscribed with the date -- naming various dignitaries associated with an official opening. For still others, it's simply the brick that unites two intersecting walls.

The ancient meaning is quite different. Originally, it referred to the very first stone laid down in the construction of a dwelling. This stone marked the doorway -- then commonly positioned at the corner of the house, hence cornerstone. There was only one cornerstone, not four. Unlike the stones of the walls or floor, it had a shallow basin carved into its upper surface. This bowl was designed to catch blood that dripped down from the lintels and doorposts whenever an animal was slaughtered during Passover rites, or a guest was welcome for a feast.

The cornerstone was, in essence, a sacrificial altar. It was sacred, holy, consecrated, set apart, perhaps with an engraved inscription. You didn't touch it, you would pass over it. If you did touch it, even by stumbling, you would profane it-- you were, in fact, seen to be refusing a covenant offered by the host. Accident was one thing but, if you were intentional about rejecting the covenant offered, you'd deliberately strike the stone or dash your foot against it.

A cornerstone was where [a] threshold covenant was solemnised. And it wasn't just houses that had cornerstones. Tents and temples did. So did towns and cities. Nations had them. The universe itself has one. [The All] told Job so:

Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell Me, if you have understanding. Who fixed its measurements? Surely you know! Or who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its foundations set, or who laid its cornerstone, while the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy?

Job 38 : 4--7 BSB

The cornerstone [Josh] gave His [fraternity] was fashioned from a response of faith, a confession of identity, a revelation not of flesh-and-blood but of [St. John's firewater]. The Word of [The All] took a few simple words and set them in place as a cornerstone:

'You are [Rocky] and upon this rock I will build My [fraternity] and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.'

Matthew 16 : 18 NIV

These words correspond to the moment of conception for the 'living stones' of His ekklesia -- they began a birth process that would culminate nearly nine months later at Pentecost.

Now this may come as a surprise, but people also have cornerstones. You and I have one. And, in the natural order of things, they're invariably and irreparably damaged.

\

/

\

It was such a little lie.

So very little. It should never have borne such evil fruit. Other far bigger lies have blown up like powderpuffs and dissipated on the merest whiff of wind -- but this tiny falsehood was different. It took me years to grasp what the distinctively different poison its makeup was.

Our summer mission team was split into two sections, senior and junior. The senior team focused on the northern campsite, the junior one on a caravan park at a southern beach locale. It was the junior team's night off and, together with two leaders I was training, we set off back to the main site to pick up the evening meal.

The cook presented us with a single lamb chop -- raw -- and a stalk of celery. We blinked in disbelief. She knew we had to feed fifteen people. but, seeing our shocked faces, she told us this was what she'd been informed was wanted.

I went to see the senior leader. There had been numerous communication breakdowns but this was the most serious yet. In fact, precisely because of the previous communication breakdowns, I'd several times checked to make sure he knew exactly what was required for the junior team's night off. We were supposed to be having a cheese fondue. It would force us to be together at one table and create the opportunity to pray for each other's stressload.

The senior leader was very apologetic. 'The fact is the team finances are gone. We just couldn't afford the expense.'

Suddenly the two trainees and I were the ones apologising. Abjectly. Grovellingly. 'If only we'd known, we wouldn't have troubled you,' we said, slinking off. Pooling our own meagre funds, we managed to buy some supplies at a local shop. But we knew it wasn't nearly enough.

We asked two team members if we could borrow some money.

Naturally, they wanted to know why. So we explained. And word got round. Soon all the junior team knew the problem and, forming themselves into pairs and triplet, headed off in little hunter-gatherer groups to check out various stores.

In the end, it was a lovely evening -- even better because we'd all contributed, all played a part in transforming disaster to success.

Two days later, it was the senior team's night off. The junior team arrived late because we were still finishing up our program. We couldn't believe our eyes when we walked into the dining hall -- piles of fish and chips, mountains of burgers, crumbed sausages battered scallops, buckets of fried chicken, salads, desserts, drinks. 'Dig in!' someone encouraged us. 'It's cook's night off and you can have whatever fast food you like.'

The entire junior team hesitated, holding back. None of us had any money. 'We can't pay,' I said.

'Don't worry about that!' our encourager exclaimed. 'It's free. It's been paid for from the team account.'

It was one of those moments when the air could have been cut with a knife. The junior team looked around and saw many, many, hundreds of dollars of food spread out across the tables. And the leaders remembered the raw lamb chop and the stick of celery.

It was such a little lie: the team finances are gone.

But it destroyed everything. There was no junior team after that season.

| )

Four years later, I woke up. Literally and figuratively. I hadn't thought of that summer mission for ages when one morning, I opened my eyes from sleep and said aloud, 'It wasn't my fault.' I must have been dreaming about the mission. 'I'm 100% innocent. So why on earth have I believed for the last four years that I was 100% to blame?'

The 'junior team' had been a novel concept -- it was to be a way of training up additional leaders under the umbrella of a larger team and a accelerating their progress towards taking on a fully-fledged mission of their own. It went down in a ball of flames that year, never to be revived.

The senior leader responsible changed times, moved dates, altered programmes, rescheduled meetings and then failed to communicate those changes until they last moment. Oftentimes the junior team was by then committed to a publicy-advertised different activity. So the source of difficulty, disunity and disharmony always seemed to be the junior team -- who were never there when work needed to be done.

All the problems arose because of time -- and timing.

Despite the senior leader's example of forgiveness and tolerance, there was deep resentment in the wider team. They wouldn't have been human otherwise! The junior team was always missing-in-action -- skipping out on the washing up, laundry duty, hall cleaning, rubbish collection, potato peeling, veggie preparation, tent erection, equipment setting up and dismantling, any and every dirty job.

Now forgiveness says this: the other person is in the wrong. The senior leader was effectively conveying the attitude that the junior team was the problem. He needed to repent and stop his habit of major last-minute changes or else take public responsibility for the damage and friction he was causing. Instead, his deny-deflect-defame was so subtle that it looked like forgiveness and forbearance.

But after four years, the evil fruit was obvious -- crashes of faith, failures to raise up potential leaders, no other junior teams anywhere and thus no expansion of the ministry, a widespread belief amongst other leadership teams that junior teams were divisive and destructive.

I chose the adjective evil to describe the fruit with great intentionality. When I woke up that day, it was as if a thick blindfold had been abruptly lifted from my spiritual eyes and I said, 'That wasn't an ordinary run-of-the-mill bad lie. It was evil.' And then, immediately, I wondered what differentiated evil from bad.

So I set out on a quest to discover what the distinction was.

Lots of investigation later, I ultimately concluded after reading Ted Peters' book, Sin: Radical Evil in Soul and Society, the real evil has to involve inversion of the good and the true. It isn't just something that's bad -- it had to go beyond that. It has to invert the very idea of good and evil, replacing one with the other.

Did you spot the inversion in the story of the summer mission? I certainly didn't for a long time -- not until I knew I should be looking for one.

This is a record of very low level abuse. From the start of my research into the spirit of abuse, I made the conscious decision to focus on small, under-the-radar incidents. There are many excellent books on major and high level abuse and I didn't want to reinvent the wheel. I wanted instead to hone in one those types of incidents when abuse was just sprouting and could potentially be nipped in the bud.

Abuse, by its nature, doesn't flower and fruit overnight -- it's slow, slow, slow to ripen because it will never achieve the power over others that it craves it it is exposed early. It has to take its time to build an unassailable façade of integrity -- so that some of the people can be fooled

all of the time.

The most significant characteristic of the spirit of abuse is inversion or perversion. In fact, unless this aspect is present, then in my view, it's doubtful this particular spirit is operating.

Its signature scent is reversal of the holy.

There are any number of ways that the junior team could have discovered the lie about the overall finances, and none of them would have been as damaging as what actually occurred. That was because the inversion of a sacred symbol was involved. The very idea of a fondue, so very sixties and so completely outdated as it was, was a deliberate attempt to build unity. It was about prayer and fellowship -- recognising that strangers living in close proximity in a stressful environment for a few weeks will necessarily find manners and habits in others that irritate them and get on their nerves. It was therefore about restoring peace and coming back into balance. And although this was not he original intention, it turned out to be a 'love feast' like the communion tables of the early [frat].

The lavish fast-food spread, on the other hand, fostered disunity. I'm sure that was not a conscious decision on the part of the overall leadership. However, the instructions were: take what you want, go where you want, be sure to be back before lights out. Its free time -- go wherever you like and enjoy yourself.

So instead of togetherness, there was scattering. Instead of communion, there was separation and dispersal. Both events were about meals: that is the most critical feature that creates the inversion. If they had been about different things, then symbol reversal would not have occurred. But because it did, and because it touched the very heart of the high priestly prayer that [Josh] prayed at the [Final Feast-Off] -- that we all might be one with each other, with the [Big Daddy] and with Him -- it had devastating and destructive power.

That is why it bore such evil fruit. It took that which was steeped in [The All]'s power -- to love each other in truth and generosity -- and turned that power back on itself to wreak destruction. It took acts of generous, even sacrificial, giving and made a mockery of them.

(.?\|/!.)

The key element in identifying the presence of the spirit of abuse is inversion or perversion ( ) .

It has to be there. o ( )

Yet other factors are also present. The other signature smell when it comes to this spirit is group mind control. = . +

This is not the same as individual mind control or mesmerism which is a specialty of the spirit of Leviathan. In that instance, individuals are each affected separately and in different ways while their friends are repeatedly stunned by how oblivious they are to the obvious.

But with group mind control, the opposite is the case.

A few individuals remain unaffected but the group as a whole is asleep. They fail to notice anything wrong, no matter how blatant it is. And the group becomes very annoyed, even combative, if any attempt is made to waken them. They don't want to hear the other side of the story; they don't even want to hear that there is another side.

A third element -- although this is not unique to the spirit of abuse, as inversion and group mind control are -- is blame-shifting.

What is different with abuse, however is that victims tend to accept blame without demur. Scapegoating is a tactic of Azazel, the spirit of rejection -- but those subjected to that spirit's torment don't fail to notice it. They may not openly kick and pish against the scapegoating but they definitely know they've been unjustly accused.

The same is not true when dealing with the spirit of abuse: in this scenario, those afflicted may not even be aware of their own innocence. Guilt has been induced in them to such a degree they believe they are responsible even when they are not. The truth has been twisted so far its's bent back on itself.

When I woke up after four years and spoke to the trainee leaders, discovering that they -- like me -- had blamed themselves, I couldn't initially convince them they were not at fault. Not in any way, shape or form. Not for several more years. They excused the senior leader, constantly rationalising his actions and flipping his responsibilities onto themselves.

By the time they did wake up, it was so long after the event it seemed pointless doing anything much about what happened. Except forgive.

Time.

Again.

Yes, this is another variation on the 'time passing' weapon that the spirit of abuse deploys against us. Coupled with group mind control, it is a delaying and disabling tactic that cripples and immobilises us until it's too late. All too often victims do nothing, for a lifetime, because in their eyes too much time has passed for any good to come of bringing the matter up and exposing the perpetrator. For many people it's only if and when they see the abuser using the same tactics on others they they decide to take their secret out of hiding.

Then, all too often, they are engaged in an uphill battle to be believed by family or community members who remain loyal to the abuser. Or if the accusers are in fact believed, then they find fingers pointed at them for being unforgivng -- once again switching the responsibility for sin from abuser to victim, trying to induce shame in the innocent rather than the guilty and losing sight of both real mercy and genuine justice.

|0^``%

Before going further, I want to make clear that there are different categories of ill-treatment. It's all too easy to lump them into one bulging box labelled 'abuse'. However, when I am discussing 'abuse' in this book I am specifically referring to the kind of harm that results from a desire for power over others. Molestation or exploitation automatically fall into this group, but other behaviours may not. Yet, if the end goal of violence or neglect is having control over others, then they too join this category.

You're welcome to define it differently, but for the purposes of this book, my narrow focus is behaviour that is primarily motivated by a desire for power and control. Any discussion of Belial, spirit of abuse, uses this as a criterion. As you'll have discovered if you've read other books in this series, the threshold spirits are multi-faceted and several-faced.

Yet there is a tendency in spiritual warfare to attribute just one function to a spirit -- a spirit of anger or a spirit of lust or a spirit of fear -- when it's far from that simple. Just as people are complex personalities and not driven by a single emotion, neither are spirits. The spirit of abuse is also a spirit of armies. Moreover, as we've already seen, one of its other faces is Kronos, spirit of time.

As well as recognising the complex nature of spirits and thus, often, that we're not afflicted by a wild multitude of them but just one, it's also important to discern between spirits. Because not every episode of violence is necessarily about the spirit of abuse.

One incident stands out in my childhood memories. My father was laminating a table-top and just as he'd nearly finished, a large bubble formed he simply couldn't remove. He yelled in frustration, drawing everyone's attention. His rage was uncontrollable. He lashed out and hit anyone who tried to help -- and, for decades thereafter, every time he exhibited anger, some members of my family saw abuse.

One day, after many years, I was surprised when one of them said my dad was abusive. I defended him and said I didn't recall him that way at all. When various incidents were brought up to support the accusation, I said I thought differently. It wasn't that those events didn't happen -- they did. However I recalled my dad as a perfectionist who, if something went wrong, would become violently angry at himself for not getting the job done exactly right. He refused to pay anyone to do anything he could do himself and he demanded an exacting professional level of himself even when he'd never tackled a particular task before. In addition, because he was afraid of rejection, he wouldn't ask for help and then, when he really needed it and he couldn't managed by himself, he would work himself into such a towering fury it was best to stay right out of his way.

Realising even as a small girl that it was not anger at me but anger at himself, I'd always removed myself from the vicinity for a couple of hours until he calmed down.

The reactions to my explanation were interesting.

What others had seen until that moment as abuse directed against themselves they now agreed was really violence directed at himself.

He was punishing himself.

Sure, different family members had been afraid and traumatised but, as they mentally went over various incidents, they could see immediately that none of them were about attaining power over anyone else: they were all about internal rage at not being perfect. Underneath it all was a bed-rock of self-rejection, built on a cornerstone of his mother's rejection of her pregnant condition, her panic at finding herself expecting a child while unmarried and her attempts to hide the baby growing in her womb by fasting so she would not put on weight.

Rejection is the territory of Azazel.

It's the spirit of rejection and panic, scapegoating and lust. It's important to recognize that the way to overcome Azazel is completely different from the method of dealing with Belial or Kronos. These spirits -- rejection and abuse -- can of course work together but it is worth distinguishing their different modes of defilement.

o/O

Ask [St. John's firewater] which threshold spirit you are facing because the rules of engagement differ. If you've read Dealing with Python, you'll know it's love as a Fruit of the Spirit that works best against the constrictor. And if you've read Dealing with Ziz, you'll know it's joy as a Fruit of the Spirit that works best against the raptor. And if you've read Dealing with Leviathan or Dealing with Resheph, you'll know it's peace -- shalom --as a fruit of the Spirit that overcomes retaliators.

For Azazel, it's self-control -- better translated as spirit-empowerment.

Each of these Fruit are spiritual in nature, not fleshly. Unless we have allowed [St. John's firewater] to ripen His variety of fruit in us through testing and trial, the carnal versions inevitably fail.

Peace -- shalom -- for example, is developed by building integrity.

This only comes through facing challenges where we've been seriously tempted to be dishonest, manipulative or underhanded.

We can't claim to have genuine diamond-lustre integrity until we've passed through the crushing pressure and the relentless minefire of those tests -- until we've kept our word even though it was seriously to our disadvantage to do so, until we've stared ruin in the face and turned down a shady opportunity that would save us, until we're fronting up to a grim situation for the second time and the cost of truth in the first instance broke us emotionally and spiritually.

Yet, of ourselves, we can never attain or keep integrity. Only [Josh] can hold it for us, only He can keep it safe for us. If we fail these tests, and some of them are brutal, the Fruit simply doesn't ripen to form armaments against the power of the enemy of our souls. It may wither away or simply stagnate in an arrested state of development.

Way back in the Garden of Eden, fruit was weaponised against humanity. Now, the reverse is true. This is because one of the most basic principles embedded within the design of creation is the 'law of action-reaction' -- sometimes called 'sowing-and-reaping'. Almost every society knew of it spiritually long before Isaac Newton discovered the third law of motion in physics: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Some cultures called it 'karma, some said, 'What goes around, comes around' some refer to it as 'cause-and-effect'.

Now it doesn't just apply on the human plane. It also applies in the heavenlies. Just as we sow and reap, so does our enemy.

Fruit was weaponised by the devil, so Fruit can now be weaponised against him. Consequently the Fruit of the Spirit, when tested and tried, can be arrayed for use in defeating the threshold spirits. In fact, the fully tested and mature Fruit of the Spirit are peerless and practical weapons, providing we can identify which spirit we're facing and therefore which of the Fruit needs to be deployed.

All this may be a surprise if you're used to thinking of the Fruit of the Spirit in elementary Sunday School terms as simply about character formation. Absolutely it's about character formation: it's about the making of a warrior. A warrior who carries weapons that can never be lost or laid aside -- because they are carried within ourselves.

They become part of who we are.

We can surrender these weapons. We can choose the fruit of the flesh --

sexual immortality, impurity, and debauchery; idolatry and sorcery; hatred, discord, jealousy, and rage; rivalries, divisions, factions, and envy; drunkenness, orgies

Galatians 5 : 19 - 21 BSB

But [Josh] is here to empower us to overcome the temptations and pass the tests.

It's very easy to dismiss the Fruit as kiddie stuff -- nice, but sometimes almost a liability in life's battleground. Certainly not like the adult stuff of being an apostle, prophet, pastor, evangelist, teacher. And not like the spectacularly visible gifts of prophecy, tongues, interpretation, miracle-working, discernment of spirits or healing either.

Yet [Josh] didn't say His disciples would know each other by their gifts or their offices. We forget His heart-breaking words about prophets and miracle-workers:

'By their fruit you will recognize them. Not everyone who says to Me, "Lord, Lord," will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of My father who is in heaven. Many will say to Me on that day, "Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name and in Your name drive out demons and in Your name perform many miracles?" Then I will tell them plainly, I never knew you Away from Me, you evildoers!"

Matthew 7 : 20 - 23 NIV

There's a very good reason for this: the gifts are just that -- gifts.

[The All] doesn't ever ask for them back. If He did, they wouldn't be gifts. They'd be tools on loan. Because they are irrevocable, and not given as a reward or performance but as an award of grace, they are not an indicator of kingdom status. But we tend to default into thinking that way and become perplexed when [The All] does not withdraw His gift of healing from a minister living in adultery or a retrieve His gift of evangelism from a person engaged in deep fraud.

The reason is simple: it's a gift.

To know our brothers and sisters in [ze Vird], we should look for evidence of the Fruit of the Spirit, not His gifts.