#fighting for a cause whose purpose has been long forgotten

[snowpoff]

thinking about elidibus again

[bitegore]

for the wip titles thing 1/3 (with thanks for your indulgence)

Orpheus motormaster

OKAY so this fic is sort of an experimental thing I keep reworking because I don't know what I want to do with it when it hits fairytale territory, but also I think it would be incredibly funny to slot Motormaster into a fairytale world where he has to deal with fairytale bullshit.

Readmore because this is long and also because, like, contents: quite a bit of dark nonsense about death

Presumably we all know who Orpheus is here, so I'm not going to bother to really detail anything about the original myth. I'm also going off the books very aggressively and cribbing a bunch of stuff from, like, the trials of Herakles and shit like that. I got a friend who did their degree in ancient history and literature who I fully intend to lean on for some of the more specific stuff but i'm not actually doing Greek Mythology so it's also probably going to take on a bit of the medieval Guy Wanders About Getting Into Situations vibe to it as well, since I like that quite a bit.

Also it was inspired quite heavily by The Unrepetant (song) by Steve Earle and also by Hadestown (play). I haven't decided how unhappy an ending I want yet, but there's not exactly going to be a happy one. We all know what happened to Euridyce.

The important details for the mythological backing are as such:

There is a pantheon, the way that there's a pantheon in most of these stories.

Primus is king of the "ordered world" pantheon and Unicron is king of the "chaos world" pantheon. In order to get from the normal world to the Underworld (as opposed to, like, traveling under the normal world by digging a hole) Unicron has to let you in. (Primus's domain is Cybertron; because this is G1-ish Transformers, we're on Earth. The general vast expanse of space is sort of a no-man's-land, but Unicron's seat of power is on Earth, so the Underworld is rather close to our cast at the moment).

Beyond this duology Unicron and Primus both have "champions", sort of like saints I guess? or minor deities? in the Thirteen Primes and the Thirteen Titans, who work in semi-harmony to keep the balance of nature even but who also occasionally fight or switch allegiances. Unicron has six Primes and seven Titans and Primus has seven Primes and six Titans. This is because I think it's fun to say that Megatronus was a champion of Unicron and that Prima was also a champion of Unicron before fucking off to Primus's side or something.

(Of the Primes- Primus currently has Prima, Optimus Prme, Alchemist Prime, Vector Prime, Micronus Prme, Onyx Prime, and Quintus Prime; Unicron has Megatronus Prime, Solus Prime, Liege Maximo, Amalgamous Prime, Nexus Prime, and Alpha Trion. I don't know thirteen titans off the top of my head so that'll have to come later.) (Optimus's Primehood is kind of a secret but like an open secret; he's sort of regarded like someone running around claiming to be a god would be. As in, common knowledge holds that he's making shit up until he starts refusing to stay dead and shit. He's a late addition to the roster and there to shake things up, because the game was getting stale since Unicron is fucking his job up.)

As always, Unicron is the "chaos-bringer"- the lord of chaos, bringer of chaos, who sure, eats planets, but he's not the "planet-killer", he's the chaos guy. So his job is chaos. Throw some shit into the mix and see what comes up. (Hence why he's got the Prime of creation and the Prime of shapeshifting and both Primes whose jobs are to be weird old men telling people to do things.) Except, oopsies, whoops, Unicron has been having a long and boring few millenia and he's sleepy tired and he has forgotten his job is to cause problems on purpose.

Primus is another force of nature, too; he can't do Unicron's job because he's the god of living order, of physics and crystal lattices. There's a reason Unicron generated organic life and Primus created machinery, and only in concert could they create Transformers. Now Unicron is dropping the ball and Primus has stepped back to let the Primes handle it, but things are still sort of getting dull and stagnant, and this whole "permanent war" deal that the new Prime and the guy who borrowed Unicron's primary champion's name have cooked up is just as frustrating as anything else.

Given that we're working with G1 Stunticons (i'm always doing that, anyway) the Stunties have spent a comparatively very long time being exposed to Unicron (under the Earth) than they have Primus (in space). They're still in the regular world, but they spend basically no time on Cybertron ever and are made from Earth-based materials, so they're basically just getting washed in Unicron Juice forever. This is barely relevant, but it might wind up more relevant later, who knows.

A final note: since everything isn't set in stone, I might reverse Unicron and Primus's positions as life deity and death deity without reversing anything else, worldbuilding-wise, anyway, and have Motormaster be trying to find the Underworld on Cybertron, but that's kind of boring and I like the earth energy better. We know where Cybertron keeps its dead, that's not so cool. And the idea of a robot alien wlaking into the belly of the regular Earth- surrounded by plants and shit, in an environment he is fully unsuited for- is very fun for me in a way that the Cybertron is not.

A lot of my worldbuilding is copped from TF Prime. Can you tell.

SO okay. No plot notes whatsoever in and we're already at a block of text so long that my computer doesn't want to register keystrokes for ano a full minute after I write them, cool cool cool. I might have to break this up into a separate thing, we'll see how frustrated this makes me.

The opening is simple, and I can just plain copy paste it. (Curses be upon Tumblr for not enabling nested readmores like they do on Dreamwidth.)

It happened out of nowhere. Nothing Motormaster could’ve done about it, not that he wanted to hear that at the time. He’d gone over it back and forth for days, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong as leader to let it happen. Turns out sometimes these things are just dumb shit luck. One stray shell landing in a place it wasn’t supposed to when they weren’t actually under attack, and then, boom, and their racecar frames were all more fragile than Motormaster’s truck. They’d had to piece him back together, too, anyway. Wasn’t like he’d gotten out unscathed either. But the rest of his teammates were dead.  Motormaster didn’t really come to grips with that in the medbay. They had him there for two weeks while they slowly rebuilt his spinal circuitry and the rest of his torso and legs and cab, but he spent the whole time prodding at the empty bonds mentally and running through what he could’ve done different instead. He didn’t really figure his shit out after either, when they let him back out onto his feet and threw him back to the war. He’d refused to go, asked what they were going to do to get him back his team instead. They’d told him dead was dead, and there was nothing to do about it; now he had to get over it and get back to the fight. Time to get even, or get one up on the Autobots. Not time to freak out about what was done and gone and couldn’t be fixed.  And he didn’t really come to grips with it then, either. He listened to them for a little while, thrown himself back into the fight. Let them convince him that there was nothing for him to do. But he was a team leader first, and without his team he didn’t know what to do with himself. And then he finally got it. Put the pieces together one by one. If no one else would go get his teammates back for him, well, shit, it was his responsibility to do that, wasn’t it? After all, he was their team leader.  He got himself together after that. Put in a report stating he wasn’t going to come back until the task was done, requested time off from the Decepticons. He didn’t wait around to see if it was granted or not. They’d take him and his team back when he returned, he was pretty sure. And he packed himself a little travel bag and got his sword and went out into the world to find the opening to the Underworld. He knew it was somewhere. It turned out to be a little bit underwhelming, after everything.  He'd been expecting something dramatic- a crack in the ground, billowing fire; a massive cave ringe with thousands of glittering jewels; an enormous terminal computer terminal humming with infernal energies, or something, but it was simple. No frills. Just a narrow staircase down into the dark, a rough-hewn affair with no end in sight. It wasn't even scary. Motomaster rested his sword over his shoulders, and began his descent.

Anyway I have, like I said, not ironed out exactly where I want to go with this, but for obvious reasons the Stunticons (minus Motormaster) probably are gonna wind up staying dead, since ethat's the way the story goes. I haven't decided, though; it would be really fucking funny if we make them Primes instead. Combiner Prime 2.0, or some shit like that. It'd lose what I like about the Orpheus and Eurydice story, though; I eat tragedy up for breakfast lunch and dinner and then heap myself anoher serving for dessert.

That aside, I do know some of what I want to do with it. The journey to the Allspark is long and difficult, and the first part is (obviously) getting to the staircase down. I have to go and add more stuff there, because that's not supposed to be an easy search either, but I don't want that to stretch on too long; crucially, though, outside his own realization Motormaster catches the attention of one of Unicron's Primes. They go poke Unicron, who goes "huh. Intriguing" and lets Motormaster in to his domain.

But Earth!Reverse is still just as big as regular!Earth and there's a lot of new ground to cover between the staircase down and the seat of the Reverse!Allspark and Unicron's throne. There are like, people in the way and shit. I'm not going for a full on like, cerberus and the river styx type deal, I want to make it a little less played-out and a little more interesting, but it is crucial that there is a whole bunch of people between Motormaster and Unicron and they can all be reasoned with, tricked or otherwise worked around with a bit of thought. I've got full intentions to make these workarounds really obvious, too... at least to the reader.

Because Motormaster is an idiot. And he solves everything by punching people really fucking hard.

He mostly makes it through the Underworld by being a giant pain in the ass and all the guardians who are supposed to direct him where he's supposed to go or provide a small challenge to let him prove himself eventually just go "Fuck this. Fuck this shit. What the fuck ever. Fuck this guy. Unicron and whoever else is behind me can sort him out, I am not getting paid enough to put up with this shit" and so they send him on his way, or give him bad directions that get him turned around or whatever, but they don't really stay in his way. Everyone fucking hates him though. He's making absolutely no friends. This will be relevant later.

Eventually Motormaster makes it to Unicron's court, where Unicron is waiting to hear him out at least with some sense of interest. Primus is there too, since they're buddies and Primus is fucking PSYCHED to see Unicron up and at it and is spending time hanging out in his court watching this stupid little truck slowly make it down to Unicron's fortress. Unicron allows Motormaster to plead his case, expecting, like, some attempt (however halfhearted) of an eloquent case for the return of Motormaster's subordinates, all of whom are present and chilling.

Motormaster does not do this, becuase he is Motormaster. Instead he just goes "Those are mine. Give 'em back" and goes to walk off with his teammates. He presumes this will work because he is an idiot but also becuase so far going "give me what i want or i'll hit you really hard" has resulted in him getting what he wants, because so far what he has wanted was not to leave but just to go in. And he most certainly was not stealing from Unicron.

Needless to say, this does not work.

After Motormaster is knocked very roundly on his ass by [gestures vaguely] someone or other, and impressed upon him is the importance of actually doing shit correctly this time, Unicron- who frankly is just kinda having fun- grants Motormaster a show of unusual leniency and allows Motormaster a second chance to plead his case. Motormaster tries slightly harder and proceeds to fuck it up again, but less badly, at least. Yay improvement.

(He still promises to punch Unicron really hard if Unicron won't give him his teammates back, but fortunately for everyone Unicron finds it really funny that this insignificant little ant is trying to threaten him personally. It's cute. Reminds him of Megatronus before the whole dealie with Solus and Liege Maximo stripped him of a chunk of his hubris. So it's like a kitten pouncing on his foot to him. He keeps encouraging the behavior even though it shouldn't be encouraged because he likes to see it. Primus keeps telling him off for it but he's not making any headway.)

Anyway in order to test Motormaster's resolve and also give him some sort of a chance, Unicron sets before Motormaster like five tasks that are nominally-impossible but not really. Here's where the labors of Herakles things come in; these are all just hard things that have answers. A lot of the labors of herakles are, like, killing a tthing though; obviously Motormater is okay at that, so instead we set before him tasks that don't require him to kill anyone.

Motormaster fails them all. He has one skill and that skill isn't even a little bit "looking for loopholes and tricky problem-solving". He tries and he just plain does not suceed within the timeframe he's been set.

Finally Unicron like. Literally trying soooooo hard to find an excuse to give him back his teammates because he's enjoying watching Motormaster do stuff and he wants Mototormaster to succeed, is like hey. Final task for you. Make the trip back with them and don't turn back, and you can keep them. Cool? Cool. This should be really simple, just face forward and don't turn around. I'll literally give you a guide. Please don't fuck this up.

Technically speaking, that would make all of the Stunticons minus Motormaster sort of like another of Unicron's Primes. Which would be really funny. If he won, that is. But obviously he doesn't win.

(It's very tempting to consider having him turn to look at his teammates as he leaves Unicron's court and having literally everyone present, in unison, go "....oh, for fuck's sake" as they vanish back to the Allspark.)

The real question is more, like- obviously I'm doing black comedy, that's my niche, I don't think I'm capable of not doing black comedy. But there are a few different directions I can go with it. It can be like, yay, Motormaster has learned to deal with grief now, everything's fine and the dead want to stay dead, this is not a happy story but it's a triumphant one. Or it can be like "you would be better off having literally just committed suicide". Or somewhere in between. I can't decide what balance I want to strike, but there's something compelling to the idea that Motormaster making it out of the underworld would sort of properly trap him out of it, where he can't actually return basically ever because divinity has gotten under his skin a little too hard and now it's not working, shit's out of balance and he can't die until it goes back and he is not smart nor powerful enough to ever put it back to rights anyway. If he managed to get his teammates out with him that'd be one thing, but obviously I'm not doing that; we all know what happened to Euridyce.

Anyway obviously I still have a lot to do on this one before I can really get back to it but it's cooking. It's being brain stew. And the flavor is good so far.

[theglowingjournal]

Turning 24

This blog comes right about the time I’m turning 24. I feel like I have lived through alot in a short time and gained some cool insight from people & experiences in my 24 years here. There’s alot more than 24 little lessons I could gather together but I’ll stick to 24 for now. I hope some of these call you to action or thought or even better, God.

1. Dont hold onto bitterness - living with anger & resentment halts growth and sometimes even opportunity. It’s not fun! Really lean into “Don’t let the sun go down on your anger”.

2. Have a servants heart - who can you be serving in your life? Do you need poured into too? Check who’s filling your cup and whose cup you’re filling.

3. Halt the worst case scenario mindset - don’t live life in worry of the worst happening. Some scenarious call for worst case prep but if it’s causing you anxiety, halt it!

4. Set aside time to be in the secret place - if you feel like you have no time for God, change your schedule.

5. Choose fellowship & community over isolation - sometimes, you gotta fight the urge to stay home and watch netflix instead of fellowship time with others. It could be just what you need! Go be with people.

6. Be confident in who God made you to be - He made you just the way you are meant to be, why want to change that when your very own Creator is perfect?

7. Awkward is fake & made up - that thing you thought was really awkward? You might be the only one who thought it was… and if not? It’ll either be forgotten or you might just be showing someone else that they’re not alone in feeling or being ‘awkward’.

8. Be real with those who value you - we all go through tough times, and the only way to know you’re not the only one who’s been through it is to share. Tell your friends what you need help with and prayer for.

9. Nothing in this world actually brings joy - just Jesus. That’s it.

10. Thank God continually for blessings & trials - remember to thank God for everything He provides daily, even the hard lessons & trials! Knowing He is good and has a purpose coming to fruition is something to be grateful for.

11. Stop overthinking - it’s so easy to get into your head and overthink things, daily! Work on stopping the overthinking process when you realize that it’s happening.

12. No one has it all together - not even the big adults with the big jobs. Everyone is just doing their best.

13. Take more photos, but at good times - as opposed to bad times where you aren’t being present! Capture moments with your eyes & mind’s eye first, then, if so led, take out the camera.

14. No more comparison game - cut out whatever is causing you to compare. Social media? Gossip from friends? TV shows? Out.

15. Read more, but get audible - I always have new books I want to read but I have trouble finishing books/feeling like I have time to read. Get the audiobook & listen while running errands, doing chores; it’ll cut the time in half!

16. Go for the ice cream - Period.

17. Patience goes a long way - pause before responding, and take a breath before getting annoyed. Alot can happen in those few seconds that will go a longggg way.

18. Let God write your love story - He’ll do it better than you could ever do on your own.

19. Communicate with everyone - bad communication is like, the #1 thing that leads to issues. All over the world. Everywhere. Communicate! I am speaking to myself here too; don’t put off texting people back. Just do it.

20. Go listen to The Beautiful Letdown album - Switchfoot’s lyrics are speaking to the world more and more and share such good gospel based messages. Pivotal album, go listen.

21. Baking can be therapy - try it out! Especially when you’re going to give it to others.

22. Lean on God and trust His sovereignty - in every question, decision, emotion, anything, trust that He has it under control and if you’re living in His will, you can live without fear.

23. We’re all in different seasons. Give grace - a reason why we should share with each other what we’re going through. If not, we don’t know what kind of season someone’s in, and can judge their actions or behavior. Give grace, as you want grace too.

24. Go for a walk - it can be silent, a talk with God, listen to a podcast/book, getting exercise, to let go of emotion. Whatever the reason, even if for no reason, get a nice walk in.

If you read this far, thank you! And please message me with what lesson you can start implementing. Peace out!

[the-golden-rose-archives]

✒ The Overview of TGRU: What it's about

The Golden Rose Universe is an ongoing head world project set in the world of Ai'terra, a world not so different from ours aside from the fact that this world is populated by anthropomorphic animal people. These races vary from those grounded in reality (such as Cats, Dogs, Rabbits, etc) to the more mythical (Dragons, Chimeras, Unicorns, etc). The setting of TGRU is Modern/Fantasy as it has elements to magic, supernatural creatures, and powerful deities.

In the setting of TGRU:

The mortals of the modern era have almost completely forgotten about the ancient and powerful deities that used to dwell upon the earth, having simply chalked them down to be no more than myths. However, the deities themselves are living, breathing, timeless beings that do still walk among them, as well as their divine champions, the Aespryt: Divine messengers, reapers, and guardians either born into their role, or bestowed new life upon their final hours as mortals.

For thousands of years after what would be known as the Era of Calamity that was caused by the destructive hubris of a mad god, the other deities had established a new order, known simply as The Golden Rose Court. Its sole purpose being to keep each other in check and to prevent the deities from using the mortal realm as their playground and using them as their pawns and sacrifices. However this did not sit right with deities whose motives were darker in nature, this driving them into creating a rival faction known as The Thorned Order, led by a former court member, Aarna the StormWaker. This led to a centuries long conflict that sundered the Court and the Order, leading to casualties on both sides, as well as the formation of The Wild Hearts: a faction disillusioned by both ends of the fight, and simply wanting nothing to do with the power struggle. While the battle was hard won by the courts and led to Aarna being sealed, it was an embittering victory, and led to the uttering of a cryptic prophecy, one that could signal the end of the entire world and the death of the deities themselves.

Now in modern times, these ancient feuds have been chalked up as mere fairy tales, with the mortals eschewing any sort of notion that magic and deities are real. However they are all but mythical and their entire power struggle between the Court and the Order have continued into modern times.

While this struggle has been hidden, the arrival of a new Aespryt under the watch of Friithor, the Lord of Winter, has brought the attention of both factions, leading to the remembrance of the ancient prophecy, as well as the Thorned Order's renewed interest in reawakening Aarna. The world of Ai'terra can only watch as the battle unfolds anew, all holding their breath at what is to be the final struggle and outcome that could dictate the world's fate forever.

"When thy hallowed blade shatters,

And the beast's shadow consumes all.

So will end the reign of the Rose,

And the Thorns overtake the world.

The Skies above will be as red as blood,

And the seas will swallow all.

All of creation will fall and cease,

And the Shadows arise anew."

[versadies]

Hey!!! How are you?

Congratulations on your 1k followers

Can I request aries + Kazuha + hc scenario + fluffy...?

Today is the last day of the event, I just saw it today, at least it wasn't after the event ended ;w;

⠀

⠀

I'm thinking about having a nickname to join the anon squad... Maybe 🇧🇷 anon? Your content came to a Brazilian person! Congratulations on your content reaching someone on the other side of the world :)

in the next life (hc scenario, reincarnation au)

penpal: hi hi, i’m doing great ty 🇧🇷 anon!! i’m so happy to know that my content has reached to the other side of the world 🥺🥺 i hope you like this <<3

prompt: aries the ram, red-string soulmate au

pairing/s: kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader

sypnosis: sometimes, happy endings can only happen in another lifetime. (or, hc on how you and kazuha met during the modern era of teyvat)

includes: slight spoilers to inazuma quests (2.0), fluff/slight angsty, reincarnation au, mentions of death, modern au, rushed ending

soulmates has always been one of the things that made teyvat special.

people had all collectively agreed that meeting their soulmate is one of the most treasuring moment, no matter how strange or hilarious the first encounter is like, no one should ever forget the once-in-a-lifetime moment.

with that said, most stories are usually soulmates– specifically how one meets their fated other. historical moments are no exception to this, such as an archon's first ever encounter with their soulmate during an annual rite, a forbidden love between an immortal being and a human, a sweet story of a soldier and a healer during a certain war, and the list goes on.

but where are stories that contains soulmates who had never met one another? or had a tragic fate that gave them no opportunity to get along with their soulmate anymore?

none.

some would say they'll meet in the afterlife, where they can live on in peace as the world goes on. while some would beg to differ and think that the two soulmates are just bound to not meet.

only little would suggest reincarnation.

and you and your beloved soulmate are one of those little people.

but you honestly didn't think that you and kazuha would be the soulmates with a tragic fate.

the both of you had met thanks to the resistance. when beidou decided to introduce kazuha to kokomi, he met you along the way– the right-hand-person of kokomi and his soulmate.

the both of you had instantly clicked when you met, the wide smile the both of you had appeared when you notice each other's red string being connected.

since then, you were inseparable.

on days when your assigned unit didn't need your assistance at the moment, you usually use those times to hung out with the samurai, often talking about each other's adventures and experiences with the best you can.

it was those days when you incredibly cherished the moments, making sure to remember every second of those moments you had with him before going on battles against kujou sara and her soldiers.

unfortunately for the both of you, the memories that you oh-so cherished would be the last one you'll ever make.

"see you in the next life... kaedehara kazuha," you whispered, staring at the samurai as the both of you lie down on the cold ground with soldiers fighting around the both of you, blood gushing out from your mouth. "whether it'd be in the next life or another, may celestia let us have another chance."

you watched as kazuha smiled lightly, his hand shakily trying to reach out to yours until he intertwines it together. "till we meet again, y/n."

as the war between the resistance and the raiden shogun continued, you and kazuha let out your one last breath before passing away.

much to you and kazuha's hopes, the war against the vision hunt decree won victoriously, with the raiden shogun lifting up the decree and brought inazuma back to its usual peaceful life before the decree.

of course, the resistance alongside the traveler paid respects to you and kazuha's passing, telling you that you and kazuha can rest now that they won.

as centuries flew by, teyvat had a major change among the nations. in this particular century, archons and visions had long been forgotten, with technology around the world being more advanced than before. as for soulmates? they still exist fortunately.

then there's you, a person who found joy in traveling around the world and tell the world about it. at least, that's what people think.

to you, you simply wanted to travel around teyvat to find a person named kaedehara kazuha.

recently, you started getting dreams of a man who goes by kaedehara kazuha. some were usually romantic that it gave you butterflies, some were conversations that you sometimes would forget, and of course, the dreams that often haunt you.

most dreams of yours were always lying down beside the man– who was bleeding to death. was this a sign of him dying? what is the purpose of these dreams?

you didn't know why this was happening to you. are you slowly going insane? or were you just overreacting?

whatever it was, you knew that deep down that it has something to do with your soulmate.

you went high and low around each nation you visited, often asking certain people if they've know a man named kaedehara kazuha, only to receive no useful information that could help you.

of course, your only source that could help you find him is the red string that connects you and your soulmate, following the direction it led you with hopes of it twitching as a sign that you're near.

unfortunately, none of the nations you've visited had no signs of who you're looking for.

your last stop is inazuma, a nation that's infamous for having beautiful firework shows and tourist spots. there's not a single place that isn't worth taking pictures of.

the moment you arrived to the nation using a boat,l you came across to a woman whose name is beidou.

"i don't know a man whose name has a kaedehara, but i have a son who coincidentally has the same name as kazuha!" she exclaims with a grin. "i don't think he's the one you're looking for though, i've never seen him hung out with someone like you or anyone else who isn't gorou."

you smile lightly at the woman, trying to not look disappointed. "i see.. thank you again, miss beidou."

she quickly waved you off. "good luck in finding the man you're looking for!"

the moment you immediately checked in ritou, you started exploring around the nation with no plans of stopping, hoping to see at least one person who looks like the man in your dreams or has their red string connected to your finger.

unfortunately, every area you've visited in the land, you still haven't found the end of the string, your hopes slowly dying down as time flew by.

you decided to explore more the next day, deciding to go back to inazuma city and have dinner in one of their infamous restaurants.

as you sat down on one of the stools while waiting for kanbei to cook your meals, you let out a disappointed sigh. if you couldn't find your soulmate anywhere, where could he be?

what if kaedehara kazuha doesn't exist at all? what if he died before you could even meet him and find out what's going on with your dreams?

you let out another sigh, rubbing the back of your neck in frustration. you hoped all of this wasn't a waste of your time. you honestly don't know what to do if you won't be able to find him at all, let alone what happens after you meet him.

unnoticed by you, your red string started twitching nonstop. a man suddenly enters the place, sitting down one seat away from where you are.

"rough day, kazuha?" kanbei asked, not bothering to look away from the pot as he continues to focus on cooking your meal.

"not exactly. i found a perfect spot to write haiku." the man, kazuha, replied.

as kazuha and kanbei continued conversing, you couldn't help but find yourself slowly drifting to sleep, now feeling the exhaustion from your exploration around the nation.

before you could completely pass out on the counter, you immediately woke up from the delicious smell of your meal, looking up to see the chef being finished with your meal already. perhaps the reviews weren't lying when they said this restaurant is fast with services.

you quietly thanked the chef when he placed the meal down in front of you, feeling your mouth watering at the sight of the delicious meal before digging up, still not noticing the red string twitching nonstop due to your focus on filling your hunger.

"thank you again, kanbei." kazuha speaks up as he grabs the packaged food from the chef's hands and hands over the payment.

"always happy to serve, kazuha. see ya tomorrow." kanbei said, watching as the man walks away from the restaurant.

out of curiosity, you glance at who you assume is beidou's son, only for your eyes to widen at the sight of the same man that you've been seeing in your dreams–

along with his red string connecting to yours.

without thinking, you immediately jumped down from your stool, staring at kazuha, who already walked out from the diner without a glance of your direction. "i'll be back and continue eating my meal. apologies for my rudeness!" you exclaim before running towards kazuha's direction without letting a single word come out from kanbei, who was confused at your words.

"kazuha!" you yelled, hoping kazuha would hear your voice despite the sounds of cars and people being loud around the both of you.

you tried to call for the man again, only for you to get frustrated when he still hadn't heard a word from you. was he wearing earphones?!

you immediately look down at your string and back at kazuha, hesitating for a moment before shaking the string aggresively. please, please, please look back! please look like you're him–

you sigh in relief when he finally noticed his string shaking, causing him to stop his trakcs and look behind him to see you running towards him like your life depends on it.

his eyes widens at the sight of you running towards him, your face was all too familiar for him to remember. it can't be, you only existed in his dreams!

the both of you suddenly remember certain memories the both of you didn't even knew you had. memories of which the both of you used to be in. memories of the both of you walking around the infamous serpent head as soldiers trained with all their might for the upcoming war, memories of the both of you watching the stars and wish for the resistance to win victoriously, memories of your past life that you and kazuha had forgotten.

that was enough for kazuha to run towards you as well, his arms suddenly spreading wide open for you to clashed into, dropping his food without a care.

the moment you and kazuha finally had gotten closer, you tackled the man into a hug as tears prickled in your eyes, ignoring the questionable stares the both of you received from people passing by.

"i found you." you whispered, closing your eyes shut as you let out a sound of relief. "after so.. so many months, i finally found you."

kazuha hugs you back, pulling you closer to his body as he sighs in relief. now that there's no more wars or something to run away from, the both of you can start anew and live the life the both of you had wanted back then.

"i missed you."

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH52

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 52: Purgatory Reunion (IV)

[Player Qi Leren has arrived in Purgatory and started the task: Sacrifice of the Devil King]

[Task background: Three years ago, the Devil of Slaughter provoked the Devil of Power, and was suppressed by the Devil of Power and the Devil of Fraud in Purgatory’s lake of fire. However, he did not die nor give up, but silently waited for an opportunity. Three years later, the seal was accidentally loosened, and the Devil of Slaughter’s consciousness broke free from the seal and began to look for a way to resurrect...]

[Task requirements: Destroy the Devil of Slaughter and gain one third of the authority of the Devil of Destruction.]

[Data synchronization countdown, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, synchronization completed.]

　　&&&

"Oh? So, this martial law is the order of the Devil of Power herself?" a person in leather boots whispered in a sexy, soft voice. If they didn't pay attention, the voice would be covered by the wind passing through the underground passage.

But who dared to not listen carefully? The lower demon secretly glanced at the succubus, facing his smiling yet cold eyes. He looked at him as if he was a maggot crawling on the ground, which scared him, and said in a trembling voice: "I don't know... I just heard..."

"Heard?" The succubus repeated the word, his tone full of deep dissatisfaction.

"No no no, sir, the rumors are likely to be true! There was an abnormality in Purgatory’s lake of fire before, that is, the lake of fire that suppressed the Devil of Slaughter... I think that there may be a problem with the seal on the Devil of Slaughter! That’s it!" the lower demon quickly explained, fearing that the succubus would kill him in annoyance.

"Hehe." The succubus chuckled inexplicably and stopped.

Ahead was a huge underground space, which was too high for the top of the cave to be seen. The fluorescent plants and fluorescent moths covered this pure darkness from their perches on the rock walls, which made it seem as though the cave walls of this bottomless underground nest were dotted with starry light.

They were standing in an underground valley at this time, opposite to another underground valley, and between the two cliffs was a moat-like abyss, with churning red magma flowing under their feet, like a rushing river rushing toward the deeper lake of fire.

"Sir, do you want to pass? The patrol is very strict on the other side, I'm afraid that if you’re found..." The lower demon carefully raised his head and observed the succubus.

The mysterious succubus was studying a crystal in his hand, and the lower demon recognized that it was a life crystal. The original clear crystal has overflowed with black smoke, and there were fine cracks on the crystal’s surface.

It seemed that the owner of this crystal was in a bad situation, no wonder he was in such a hurry…

However, whose life crystal was this? What did it have to do with this succubus?

The succubus was aware of the other’s snooping gaze, and tilted his head to glance at the lower demon behind him. The ruby-like eyes flowed with the innate charm of succubuses, but they were as cold as ice: "Is there a more hidden path?"

The lower demon did not dare to look at him again. He bowed his head to suppress his rapid heartbeat, but he still saw the succubus’ long legs that were wrapped in leather pants so tight he may as well have been naked. After mentally rehearsing ten times, he said cautiously: "There is indeed one."

Magma ran rapidly through the canyon, and the succubus’ smile as he stood on the cliff deepened, murmuring in a dreamy way: "That's great."

It seemed that he had saved his small life, and the lower demon breathed a sigh of relief. Since he had been caught by this mysterious succubus an hour ago and forced him to "sell" a slew of intelligence, he was always in awe. As a well-known information broker near Purgatory, he was cautious in his daily life, rarely came forward himself, and lived a very low profile. So when he woke up this time and found a succubus sitting on the bay window opposite the bed, smiling as he twirled a dagger in his hand, he was really scared.

Comfortable days had passed for so long that he’d almost forgotten the terror of being on the edge of life and death.

Now, he coaxed the shadowy boss in a desperation to keep him pleased, and helped him hurry to the lake of fire. Anyway, he wasn’t curious... Well, there was still a little curiosity. Who was this succubus working for? What was his purpose for coming to Purgatory at this delicate moment? He definitely wasn’t with the Devil of Power or the Devil of Fraud, otherwise he wouldn’t need to be so careful.

Was he an old follower of the Devil of Slaughter? Or..... was he simply a follower of the fallen Lord of Destruction...

The lower demon did not dare to think about it any more. He lost 10% of his caution. He took the succubus around the patrol line, crossed the magma river in the underground valley, and finally came to the strictest area.

"This is it. Go from here and pass through the warning zone to reach the lake of fire. However, the area around the lake of fire has been completely blocked. I heard that a large-scale conflict broke out last night. Right now, entrance and exit from the lake has been barred. I can only take you this far. Next..." The lower demon rubbed his hands and smiled in a professional manner, fearing that the succubus would turn on him at any moment.

The succubus stood outside the warning zone, and the channels extended in all directions in front of him seemed like an ant's nest. He was afraid that the demons patrolling in the cave would cause a chain reaction.

Qi Leren sighed in his heart. He’d never thought that he would encounter so many difficulties after entering the Underground Ant City.

If it wasn't for the fact that the Court had given him a lot of resources and help, even if he spent ten days or half a month alone, he couldn't so much as touch the right way, let alone find the den of an underground information broker, and even coax and scare him into leading the way.

But even under such efficiency, there was not much time left for him.

There was only less than an hour's journey left to reach the lake, but this journey required vigilance. Qi Leren, who hadn't slept a wink for more than a day, had passed the point of exhaustion, but now was both energetic and filled with anxiety.

He was too afraid that it was too late.

"The conflict last night, tell me in detail," the succubus said lightly.

"This... is suspected to be caused by the old Devil of Destruction’s people. Specifically... I didn't go to work because I was with you so early this morning. The detailed information can be presented to you immediately when I go back and sort it out!"

The succubus hissed, and his red eyes showed deep contempt and murderous intent: "Do you still need to tidy up?"

"No no no no, I mean... I only have hearsay, I haven't tried to verify it, I'm afraid it’s not reliable."

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, sir. About a month ago, the lake of fire began to behave strangely, and died down after an underground volcanic eruption, but two days ago, several big demons from the underworld appeared near Purgatory. All of them were the old staff of the Lord of Destruction, and they seemed to explore something near the lake of fire. Since the fall of the Destroyer, they seldom come out, and this time they suspiciously appeared together. That is, in these two days, a low-level demon disappeared and was killed near the lake of fire. This kind of thing is very common, and we did not pay attention until last night..."

The lower devil's face showed a complex expression of fear and reverence. He lowered his voice and excitedly told the secret: "Last night, someone saw the body of a high-level demon in the canyon downstream of the lake of fire, soaked in lava, and flowing down along the magma... There were as many ants, which were crushed by the dark pressure. Then the whole of Purgatory went under martial law, and the lake of fire area became particularly strict. If you try to enter carelessly, you’ll be killed!"

"Who did it?" asked the succubus.

"We don't know that, but there is a clue. Last night, a demon heard a dragon roaring near the lake of fire. At that time, the whole canyon around the lake of fire was shaking, like an earthquake. The stones collapsed and fell everywhere. He ran quickly but saw nothing else."

"A dragon roaring..." the succubus whispered thoughtfully.

Getting the map of this area, he let the hapless demon information broker go. Qi Leren took off the "costume" he had used while undercover with the Slaughter Secret Society, changed into clothes more convenient for movement, and threw the fancy leather boots covered with sequins and silver chains on his feet back into the item bar, then hurriedly walked into the cave.

The dragon roaring last night was probably Ning Zhou awakening to the power of Destruction and transforming into a magic dragon. Was the big fight last night related to Ning Zhou's final death? Qi Leren couldn't be sure. Right now, he couldn't wait to fly to him when he thought of how close Ning Zhou was.

He had to catch up, and he would catch up. Qi Leren shook his fist, equipped the necessary skill cards, and touched the Prophet's Heart item hanging on his chest. He wanted to pass this area of the martial law’s warning zone. In addition to relying on maps and hidden technology, he had to rely on Secretly Observing. If it was really impossible...

Even with the Prophet’s Heart, he would have to forcibly cross the warning zone into the lake of fire.

He couldn't wait any longer.

Prepared psychologically, Qi Leren took a deep breath and strode forward.

……

……

……

The last guard post was already ahead, and [Secretly Observing] has also entered cooldown. Qi Leren’s body was tightly pressed to the rock wall, listening to the footsteps getting closer and closer. The patrolling demons held torches, which lit up the dark environment.

It seemed to be just a few ordinary demons, otherwise they wouldn't need torches to see.

Below this cliff was a huge "lake", with smoke rising above the brightly burning lava, making this cold underground like a burning hell. This was the lake of fire. Ning Zhou was here.

Qi Leren closed his eyes and calculated the most likely way to break through.

The patrolling demons were in groups of two. It would be very difficult for him to kill two demons silently at the same time. Once he failed, the demons on the guard post nearby would set off a chain reaction... If there’s a storm ahead, take a detour...

There was a loud bang, and the demons on patrol stopped and whispered, "What happened? Is it going crazy again? "

"Who knows. Be careful, don't be too lazy. Many people died yesterday."

The ground suddenly shook, as if an earthquake had broken out!

Loose rocks on the rock wall fell down in pieces, causing a lot of turmoil. Qi Leren, who was waiting for an opportunity, took this opportunity to rush out. When the two patrolling demons panicked, he took care of them sharply and neatly. Rather than dealing with the bodies, he went through the last sentry post as the rocks continued falling and rushed to the cliff ahead without looking back.

It was as if a window had been opened in the huge rock wall. Qi Leren stood at this window and looked down.

As far as he could see, the world was a vast red, bigger and more cruel than the scene in his dream. The air was so hot that he couldn't breathe, his mouth only seeming to suck the hot flames into his lungs and ignite his body.

The terrible height and heat made Qi Leren dizzy. It was difficult to imagine a glacier here, because the glacier would quickly melt in his mind.

This hot land made up of hot magma was like being placed in a high-pressure boiler, extremely hot. Even if there was a distance of more than 100 meters from the magma beneath his feet, the heat was like a red soldering iron pressed against his skin.

It wasn’t just hot, it was a painful torment. Just standing here was like a desperate slug on an asphalt road, dried by the hot August sun.

Qi Leren gawked at the sight beneath his feet. This scarlet lake of fire was burning, and a few black rocky islands were baked in it... No, it wasn't all rocks.

One of the black, half-submerged shadows in lava was...

This scene overlapped with his dying dream—the black dragon slowly sank into the lake of fire, never to exist again.

Was it too late? Was he already too late?

Qi Leren's legs went soft and he knelt on the ground, his mind going blank.

There was another loud noise, and the magma spewing out of the lake set off a surging wave in the lake of fire, lapping against the black dragon's body. The dragon that had been lying quietly in the lake of fire moved, and Qi Leren also moved at the sight of it.

The black dragon raised its head and looked at the thick domed ceiling. Its claws extended from under the lave, slapped hard on the lake of fire’s surface, and then roared. In a flash, the whole underground lake shook crazily, and the whole world seemed to be turned upside down. The magma gathered into a tsunami and washed in all directions. The surrounding rock walls dropped stones that crashed into the lava, and the rock wall above them...

The dome of the underground cave, the top of which couldn’t be seen, seemed to be torn apart by the terrible power. Suddenly huge stones were falling, pouring down in a heavy rain that made the surface of this flaming lake more and more turbulent. It turned into a horrible hell where fire fell like rain!

The black dragon stood in the lake of fire, and the overwhelming burning stones lit up the dark underground world. It was angry, sad, and desperate, and countless negative emotions gathered in it, making it roar at the invisible sky—

The dome cracked, and the top of the underground cave was torn open by the violent force, so that a beam of light pierced the earth and fell into Purgatory.

It was light, not the burning flames of sulfur and magma.

Just after the light fell, a familiar call crossed the distance between life and death and came to its ears:

"Ning Zhou—!!!”

Maybe it was because of the light, or maybe it was because of this voice, but the furious black dragon suddenly quieted down. It stood quietly in the lake of fire, looking at the distant hole in the rock wall, which was brighter than the sun.

Amidst the bright holy light, a silvery white light like fine gauze slowly stretched out, just like a huge lotus flower in full bloom. In that light, there is a mirage of paradise at dusk, and countless hymns were played there, washing away one’s inner pain.

In this light, a holy angel with white wings fell from the cliff and fell from Heaven toward Purgatory’s lake of fire without hesitation.

The holy and elegant white wings fluttered gently. The warm and quiet power extinguished the raging flames burning on the lake of fire along the way, and the terrible suffocating heat dissipated with them, turning into a paradise in the light. The reflection of Heaven appeared on the lake of fire wherever he passed.

The holy angel landed on a black rock in the lake of fire, just in front of the dragon.

And the light falling from the broken dome just happened to fall on him.

The earth shaking world had subsided, the downpour of fiery rain had subsided, and the scarred black dragon had also subsided.

They stared at each other as if they were staring at their own souls. One was full of cracks that were on the verge of breaking, and the other was about to be pulled by despair into the abyss of Destruction.

It was at this moment that they were all redeemed by gentleness.

-----

The author has something to say:

PS: They finally meet again! This scene is ranked as the no.2 scene that I wanted to write in the second part. It should be more beautiful in my brain... I accidentally burst the word count OTZ, First explain the cause and effect clearly, and then start a sweet love ^_^

By the way, everyone should have guessed how Ning Zhou died before, right?

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Editor’s Notes: Double update today because I think this and the next chapter are best read side by side. Please continue on~

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[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

A sequel to "A Forgotten Memory"

Alex is once again tasked to continue his mission in pursuing the threat that had caused hundreds of missing persons turn up dazed the next day. But now he isn't alone, join him along with the elite Task Force 141 as they hunt down Nero, discover the secrets behind his plans and put an end to this memory erasing nightmare.

Chapter 1 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"Resurgence"

"Alex"

CIA Warcom

Boracay Island, Philippines

Alex basked himself on the warm sandy beaches of the Philippines. He wasn't able to enjoy his vacation after the Nero mission, because he was sent immediately to Urzikstan and Verdansk immediately followed. And now that all of those were over, he now laid down on a beach chair and let the ocean breeze blow on his relaxed state.

Philippines was a nice country, the people were hospitable, the food was delicious and unique and the scenery was beyond amazing. Despite his metal leg, people still looked up at him the way they look at tourists and he was all of the hospitality and attention from his fellow Americans who are also on vacation to locals who were just amazed on how the leg works.

It's been a lot of months ever since Samantha forgot him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they'll meet again, that's why no matter many women try to show interest in him, he shrugs them off politely by pretending he has a girlfriend. A simple lie that he built for himself in hopes of a miracle of meeting her again.

He always brought her letter with him, some edges of it got burnt from the time he manually detonated a C4 explosive to destroy a gas factory, It was almost torn and faded, but he couldn't leave it somewhere safe. He wanted it to be with him wherever he goes. 

'Don't you dare forget about me'

His phone rang. He quickly fished it from a small pouch he bought that the locals made and immediately answered.

"This is Alex speaking." he chimed.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this time of day Alex, but I have a feeling you'd want to jump in on this." a British accent so familiar informed him over the other side of the line, It was none other than Captain John Price or Bravo Six, a comrade he once fought with back in Urzikstan.

"I'm all ears." he said, sitting up straight and letting his metal leg sink in the sand.

"Looks like your boy Nero is back on the grid. That Sneaky bastard kidnapped the Daughter of the Head of Defense, again." Price relayed.

Alex's heart thumped faster, his breathing became quick. He wished to meet her again but not like this. Not her being in harm's way all over again.

"Shit. Count me in. But.." he hesitated. He wanted to help but remembered he disobeyed CIA orders back in Urzikstan, making him unable to provide support.

"I've talked to Laswell. She's creating a special assignment for you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means welcome to the 141, Alex." Price said as he cut off the call, followed by a message regarding his departure to their base.

~

Alex can't help but worry about Samantha's condition. They've played with her memories multiple times and he thought that it would all be over after she decided to alter everything about them. Guess the enemy didn't know and they're still after her.

The soldier leaned on to the small circular glass pane as he looked at the clouds pass by. His hands were fidgeting each other while his non-metal foot bounced up and down at a fast rate. His seatmate, who happens to be a teenager, noticed his distracting leg movement but ignored it as rock music blasted from his ears. He was a completely different Alex right now and he believed that he'll be back to normal as soon as he sees Samantha safe and within his grasp.

When you have a heavy metal stick as a leg, customs is going to be the most annoying place in the world. Everyone looked at Alex as soon as he passes the metal detector and everyone else's eyes were on him. Of course with a few more safety checks and a whole lot of explaining, Alex was good to go. 

"So, you're the one they call Alex" the heavily British accented driver mused, breaking the silence of their ride to the 141 base. He was looking at him via the rearview mirror, chewing on what Alex hoped to be gum.

"Yep. That's me." he replied, turning to the view of the British streets which confused him a lot as it was the opposite of American or even Global streets.

"Heard they thought you were dead back there. In Georgia." he added. He was quite the chatterbox but CIA Agents are all about the information.

"Yeah. Tried to manually detonate the C4. After that… I just ran for my life." Alex answered, his head was realizing why he did it. What pushed him to think that he could make it out alive. Was it because it's for the greater good? The idea of freeing Farah's country from the harm of the gas? The idea of a chance to meet Samantha all over again? Or something he couldn't explain.

"Well, we're glad to have you back, Alex. But it's a shame it's no longer in the CIA." the driver waved as Alex opened the door and unloaded his stuff.

"As long as it's still about saving the world." he replied, making the driver smile. 

"That's what we do, right?" he agreed as he entered in his car leaving Alex in front a quiet gray building, the Task Force 141 Base, his new home.

Alex pushed the heavy doors open revealing a large hall, multiple round sofas were embedded to the ground and a huge staircase that split left and right greeted him. Multiple heads turned as he opened the said door and slowly walked his way to the nearest person who happened to be panting from exhaustion by the sofa. His metal leg clanked on his every step as the soldiers begin to recognize him. They smiled as soon as Alex's eyes met theirs and some even waved, Alex met them from several missions from the past, some were from the Demon Dogs and his previous designations, Delta Force.

"Where's the briefing room in this huge building?" he asked the soldier in a black t shirt drenched in sweat as he spun his towel trying to keep up with his breathing. He didn't speak but he nodded in acknowledgement and pointed to the hallway on the left. Alex left him a thanks and he walked his way to the direction where he pointed.

Just a few steps after the beginning of the hallway, the people from the main hall cheered and laughed, this made Alex turn around and he saw a young blonde man with spiky hair dash across him, he looked like he's on his way to your destination as well.

"Excuse me! Sir!" he yelled and Alex immediately halted. The young man panted in front of him and took a few seconds to breathe before he countinued his words.

"I'm Gary Sanderson, and I was supposed to guide you to the briefing room. You must be Alex." he reached out a hand and Alex shook it, quietly making your way to the room.

The huge door slid open and they found themselves in a dimly lit room, a huge screen loomed just by the wall and chairs were placed around a long circular table. Alex could spot a few familiar faces, faces he once saw and fought alongside with in Verdansk. There was the balaclava boy, Ghost, the Mohawk Man, Soap, their Captain, John Price and a few big heads from the United States. There were also new faces like Gary, who was now discussing something with another new soldier, a female soldier who sat by Price and a few new more who were already sitting on the chairs. There's also someone missing, Kyle Garrick, he pondered where he was.

The former CIA quickly saw Gary rush to Price's seat and whispered something causing him to lean on his chair, stand up and walk to his side. 

"Glad to see you back in the fight, Alex." he muttered, patting Alex's shoulder.

"I won't skip out on this mission, this one's close to home." he replied, patting his back in return.

"Yeah, heard this was your last mission before the Russian Gas." 

"Yeah. It's a loose end on my side." Alex nodded, crossing his arms.

"Good thing Shepherd had some sense in him. Not unlike your CIA heads, huh?" 

Alex nodded. He remembered he did an illegal thing against the CIA, and that was siding with Farah's forces, who were reclassified as global terror groups at that time. He silently thanked he could still step back in the fight along with the good guys even after that event.

"Yeah. I might have to thank him soon enough." Alex murmured and Price guided him to the briefing which was about to start in a few minutes.

~

"Before we start our mission briefing, I'd like to welcome each and everyone of you to the 141. A group of the most elite warriors from around the world tasked to eliminate terrorist threats lurking in the shadows. One of which, goes by the name Nero…" General Shepherd's voice was deep and serious, while the screen showed a photo of the guy they're after. His face looked punchable, as manifested by the way Alex clenched his fists while he stared at his soulless eyes.

"… whose goal is still unknown. He poses a threat as he has been out in American soil, which we believe is the one behind the multiple missing and reappearing person cases across the country." he continued, eyeing Alex. He knew a little bit about the case, maybe because he read his report.

"Since he poses no evidence of terrorist activity as of now, we are assigned to rescue and locate the daughter of Richard Coleman, America's Head of National Defense. We don't know why she was kidnapped but we believed it is or ransom or threatening purposes." The general explained, pacing back and forth, his shadow covered the screen.

Alex wanted to say something. Something about the details surrounding the case. It was written on his report. But then again, maybe the general already knew about the alteration, and since Samantha doesn't remember any IP Address, it was no longer worth noting.

Samantha's face was projected on the screen. Alex's heart began to beat faster, she looked different now, a little chubbier, longer hair and her smile felt happier. It was heartbreaking that she got caught in the crossfire again. After all those efforts of making her life normal.

'If our paths would cross again, I hope you'll remember me the way I remembered you before I take this operation, A good memory that's supposed to last forever. '

'Don't you dare forget about me.'

Her words echoed in his mind, using the same voice she had when they were together. 

"I will save you again if I had to.." he promised to her mentally, as he tightened the clench he was already doing.

"Our intel reports that twelve hours ago, local informants spotted an unknown flying vehicle just by the Georgian Border, local authorities confirmed that this wasn't one of their aircraft and we believe it could be the getaway vehicle of Samantha Coleman and her captors… We are still looking on to this so for the meantime I want each and one of you to be fully alert and ready for deployment."

Everyone else fell silent. It meant they agreed at what the high ranking official said. A few more words were exchanged such as new additions to the team, aside from Alex. He didn't seem to focus much on the second part of the brief as his mind worried a lot about Samantha. If his instincts were right, she's probably sedated once again, taking a trip down her own memory lane.

Chapter 2 : F.N.G.

[imagine-darksiders]

Homesick - Chapter 2

Behind the door.

Warnings: implied child abuse, abusive parents, blood, nosebleeds, angst, themes of childhood trauma, ptsd

Tags: Darksiders, DeathxAzrael, hurt/comfort, angst, Reader, Found family, Reader needs a hug

Chapter 1

---

“What lays beyond that door?”

Azrael's innocent question causes you to stiffen and your steps falter on the landing, knowing precisely to which door he's referring, but unwilling to even spare it a backwards glance.

The momentary delay hardly lasts for more than a second and goes seemingly unnoticed by the angel, whose gaze appears too focused on the locked, mahogany door that stands quiet and guiltless at the furthest end of your landing. Hanging back near the top of the staircase however, with eyes sharp and turned just enough in your direction that they catch the hitching of your chest, Death does notice.

Then, he blinks, and you're suddenly twisting your head over a shoulder to look beyond Azrael at the door in question, a smile on your lips but not in your eyes.

“Oh, that's just a storage cupboard,” you say casually, waving a dismissive hand through the air and continuing your journey to the opposite side of the house, “I've been in and out of there all week stacking boxes of junk up to the ceiling. Now, come this way, all the best human-y stuff is stock-piled in my bedroom.” 

You're too quick to disregard the door, too eager in turning to walk towards your room on stiff legs and Death wishes the angel would turn to look at you so he might also see what the Horseman sees, if only to confirm that he isn't imagining things.

Alas, letting out an intrigued little hum, Azrael clasps his hands loosely behind his back and sweeps after you, all the while pivoting his head this way and that to take in everything your humble home has to offer.

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

You had so nearly forgotten what the joy of discovery looks like in another person. To see the eyes of someone else grow wide and bright with unbridled wonder at a world you've long since lost a taste for.

Azrael's fascination at the most mundane of human objects manages to put a genuine smile on your face, though the ensuing pain still throbs like the beat of an insistent drum every time your cheeks press against your bruised eye.

Luckily, the angel appears to have missed your subtle wince.

After first having dragged him away from your television, you've managed to introduce him to many of humanity's other wonders that lay dotted around your bedroom.

Before long, Death had even slunk inside to join you both, taking up the mantle of an uninterested observer and absently perusing your book collection in the corner whilst keeping a surreptitious eye on the goings on of his companions.

You've perched yourself comfortably in a bean bag, content to simply sit back and observe whilst Azrael explores your room, his wide, white wings folded neatly against his back in order to spare some of your ornaments from being knocked off their shelves. 

“This... ursine mammal,” he says, pausing beside your bed and poking a finger into the fur of an old, stuffed bear sitting atop your pillow, “Does it serve some purpose?”

You're too preoccupied with fighting back a laugh to answer him right away, and by the time you realise he's watching you expectantly, Death pipes up in your stead, cutting off any explanation you might have offered.

“I imagine it's only there for decoration,” he muses, casting a critical eye over your bookcase and the dozens of unread stories scattered about on the shelves, “But then, I have to wonder if half the things in this room aren't just ornamentation.”

Knowing what he's implying, you spare the back of his head a scowl. It isn't as though you've had a lot of time to read those books he gave you, not between rebuilding your own home and helping humanity come to terms with life post-apocalypse.

“Ah!” Azrael's head shoots up and he tears his eyes from the bear, glancing towards you instead. “It is symbolic, no? In resembling a most ferocious predator, this bear represents the perfect guard for your home.”

He looks so damn pleased with himself, you almost don't bother to correct him, instead wrestling your grin into a pensive frown and nodding slowly. 

“Uh, sure! That is a pretty... exciting way to look at teddy bears.” Hopping to your feet, you make your way over to the bed and sweep a few of Azrael's primary feathers aside, picking up the toy bear and squeezing it to your chest. “But mostly humans use these for comfort at night, when we sleep. We usually get given them as children. And, as we grow older, I... guess we just get too attached to get rid of them. Most humans keep their childhood toys long into adulthood.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Death huffs, shaking his head with a smile hidden beneath the bone-mask, “You humans will get attached to anything that sits still for long enough.”

Azrael, on the other hand, looks as though you've just revealed to him one of humanity's greatest secrets. Rubbing his chin in thought, he says, “Remarkable! I've heard that humans are rather famous for the bonds they forge with other species, yet I never imagined that could extend to inanimate objects as well.”

“Yeah, you'd better believe it,” you smirk, placing the bear down on your pillow once more, “Someday I'll have to tell you about the woman who married the Eiffel Tower.”

At once, the Archangel blinks hard, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hair line. “A tower? Surely that’s a jape?”

So perplexed is his expression, you throw back your head and let out a bark of delighted laughter. “What are you, Shakespeare? Nobody says ‘jape’ anymore, Azrael!”

Off on his own side of your little bedroom, Death's neck twists around slightly to regard both you and the angel as you engage in a light-hearted back and forth about the use of archaic vocabulary. He doesn't even realise that one corner of his mouth has begun lifting at the sight. 

There is a truth about the Horseman that even he is reluctant to acknowledge, and that is that the constant slew of bad things happening in the Universe is... wearing. It’s wearing. To be on a constant path that always seems to lead towards battle or tragedy? Sometimes it feels as though his entire existence has merely consisted of one battle after another. 

He saves one world, only for another to be torn apart, he destroys a species, and another asks him to fight their war for them, he helps the makers but in doing so, inadvertently kills their elder. Century after century - a millennia of bloody battles and terrible sacrifices and trying to keep his siblings safe - If he ever stopped to think about it... 

Death’s eyes slip slowly shut. 

He has worked... so hard, hasn’t he? Is it really so wrong if he enjoys these moments of fleeting repose? 

All of a sudden, a strangled sound leaves Azrael's throat and Death is yanked from his peaceful reverie. “Y/n!?” the angel exclaims, his expression shifting to horrified in less than a second, “You're bleeding!”

Apparently, mentioning your name and blood in the same sentence is enough to get Death's voice to crack as he whips around properly and barks, “What!?”

Baffled, you raise a hand to your nose, dabbing at a sticky wetness gathered there whilst the taste of salty liquid drips onto your upper lip. “Oh, so I am,” you observe casually, only to have a pair of chilly hands curl unexpectedly around your forearms. 

Without warning, the terrifying visage of the Horseman is looming mere inches from your face and in another instant, one of his hands presses itself to your forehead and firmly – albeit gently – tips it backwards.

“Um... Death, we've talked about this. Personal space, remember?”

The Horseman remains eerily silent as he stares transfixed at the blood oozing from your nose and you squirm uncomfortably when the grip he has on your arm begins to grow even tighter. Meanwhile, his wordlessness allows Azrael to fret aloud in the background.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” the angel mutters, pacing back and forth behind Death, never tearing his eyes from the red straining your face, “You shouldn't be having all this excitement. You should be resting.”

It's difficult to hold back your groan of exasperation as you lift your arms and knock Death's hands aside, stepping out of his reach.

“Oh for - It's just a nosebleed! Honestly, what has gotten into you two?” With a hefty sigh, you skirt around the rigid Nephilim, dodge one of Azrael's wings as it tries to curl instinctively around you and march into your ensuite bathroom.

Almost immediately, the angel tries to follow, but he swiftly has the door pushed shut in his face before he can enter and soon, they hear your voice filtering out to them from the other side. “I'm not a baby, guys! Nosebleeds are no big deal, it's just happening because of... well, you know.”

Azrael's stomach twists itself into knots at the sight of yet another locked door standing between himself and his human friend. He's about to call out for you to let him see the damage when an icy chill sweeps across the room and he turns, his mouth falling open slightly at the sight of Death staring at him through unseeing eyes.

The old Nephilim's body has gone completely still and there's a haunted look about him, as though he's lost, or perhaps trapped in another time, another place.

“Horseman?” Azrael murmurs uncertainly, feeling the cold prickle at the hairs on the base of his neck. Seconds pass and he receives no answer. Hesitant now, the archangel reaches towards Death's shoulder and, when he isn't immediately shoved away, places a hand on the frigid, solid muscle that bunches under his gentle touch. “Death,” he tries again, and this time the Horseman's head snaps up to stare at him, as if only just realising he's there.

The angel ducks his head to better catch Death's eye, his voice soft enough that only the two of them can hear it. “Are you alright, old friend?”

A long silence stretches between them with only the faint sound of running water from your bathroom tap to fill it.

Then, giving a start, Death roughly shrugs the comforting hand off his shoulder and stalks past the angel towards your window, leaning his elbows heavily against the sill and stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Azrael's concern. He doesn't think the archangel has ever been that close to him before, close enough that the subtle scent of old books and clean linen invaded his nose and chased away the awful stench of your blood, effectively leaving his mind clear once again. 

'Idiot,' he chastises himself, eyes still wide behind the bone mask. How could he have frozen like that? In front of Azrael no less. Creator, he'd never live that one down. He had – for lack of a better word – panicked, and it's as embarrassing to admit to himself as it is to have been caught panicking. But...

The sight of your blood... The smell of it, sweet and strong enough that it even settled on his tastebuds...

It's pathetic, really. He is Death. He's seen and caused far more bloodshed than arguably any being in any realm. So why then does your spilled blood hold his dead heart in such a cruel and unforgivably tight chokehold?

The redundancy of taking a calming breath isn't lost on him, yet he does it anyway, tipping his head up to peer out of your window, chest rising and falling with motions he could only have picked up after spending so much time around you.

It's begun to rain, he notes idly. Tiny droplets of water patter down onto the dusty window panes and Death follows the path of one until it merges with several others and is lost in the fray.

Down in the streets below, many passers-by have dived for shelter, yet there are still two figures who remain. One is an angel, whose golden complexion shimmers when raindrops trickle steadily down his face. He's standing in the shadow of a water-logged bus stop and beside him, leaning just a little too close, is a serpentine demon, scales black and glittering like obsidian. The odd pair rest almost shoulder to shoulder underneath the bus stop's awning, each sharing a brief respite from the rain with what was once a well-loathed enemy.

Death blinks upon seeing that their hands are intertwined. Dainty, golden fingers curl loosely around clumsier claws and suddenly, the Horseman feels as though he's intruding on their secret moment, so he turns back to face your room.

Azrael has drifted closer once again and there's a knowing expression on his face that causes Death to frown. Sure enough, the archangel spares your bathroom door a hasty glance before he looks at the Horseman once more. “...Death,” he says slowly, “It's... all right, you know. If seeing Y/n’s blood upset you-”

Hackles are raised in half a second, a set of sharp teeth clack together and Death hisses, “You think I'm upset?”

Judging by the flat look he receives, that is precisely what the archangel thinks.

Despite the obvious vehemence behind Death's tone, he's careful to keep his voice down, ever mindful that you're only a room over. Perhaps getting defensive isn't the best idea.

“There is no shame in it, Horseman,” the angel coaxes softly, “Y/n is my friend as well. There has already been far too much human blood spilled this century.” He casts another, baleful glance towards your bathroom, quietly adding, “I didn't think I would be seeing it again, not this soon. And especially not from our human.”

...Our human.

Death is unnerved by how natural that sounds coming off Azrael's tongue.

Expertly, the Horseman wills his shoulders to slump and his muscles to relax, then, with an unmistakable air of indifference, he folds his arms across his broad chest and turns himself deliberately away from the archangel, glowering at your bedroom wall.

And Azrael, wise enough to read the standoffish behaviour for what it is, allows his mouth to fall shut because he knows that, as far as Death is concerned, the conversation is over.

He has a care not to release a weary sigh. But with you shutting him out physically and the Horseman shutting him out verbally, it's difficult for even the composed archangel to keep exasperation at bay.

Just then, your voice calls out to them from the other side of the door. “Ugh, sorry about this guys. It's slowing down, but it hasn't stopped yet. I'll just be a minute!”

“So long as you're all right,” Azrael replies.

When he receives no response from you and no further input from Death, he lets his head drop into a disappointed nod, pressing his lips together. Suddenly, his presence feels a little too big for the space he's occupying. He needs to think.

Azrael leaves your bedroom with a far heavier heart than he'd gone in with, raking his fingers through fine, white hair and expelling a soft breath from his lungs, as if that might alleviate the weight settling across his chest.

So far, this first visit to your home has not gone as he'd hoped it would. Through no fault of your own, mind. But trying to focus on taking in everything you show him whilst he knows you're in more pain than you're letting on is woefully distracting. That's without even mentioning the creeping sense of unease that has been hanging over him ever since he first stepped foot through your front door. 

Briefly, Azrael wonders if Death had noticed the way your breath hitched slightly and your reply had an almost imperceptible, underlying tremor when he asked you what lay beyond the door at the end of your landing. He'd have to ask the Horseman about that later, when he's in a more talkative mood.

Already, the archangel can feel the beginnings of a frown forging crevasses down the centre of his forehead. He composes himself in another breath and finally lifts his eyes from the carpet, only to stop in his tracks. 

That door – that unassuming door to your cupboard lays ahead of him, quiet and solid as all doors should be, just sitting there under a flickering light bulb, as though it had been patiently waiting for him to notice it.

And notice it, he does, because something about the door has changed since he saw it last, something so obvious, yet also entirely unsettling.  

Where it had once been shut tight, now it stands ever so slightly ajar.

Despite everything in him screaming that he must respect the privacy of his host, Azrael's curiosity grows too bold and he finds himself treading silently down your landing, his shoes making no sound on the grubby, cream carpet. Drawing to a halt, the angel's keen gaze sweeps over the wooden door, taking in hairline cracks and mottled rot that a hundred years has left upon it like battle scars on a warrior's face. Slowly, he roves his eyes down to the dull, brass door handle and he immediately falters, doing a double-take.

Sitting atop the handle is a very noticeable, very thick layer of dust.

His brows knit together until they nearly touch and he reaches out to swipe a finger delicately along the brass. When he pulls away, he lifts his hand for an inspection and, sure enough, the pad of his forefinger is now sporting the same, grey substance.

'Why would a door you claimed to use recently have so much dust upon the handle?' The feeling of unease that had been stealthily keeping to the back of his mind now pokes its head out a little more, creeping forwards, daring him to acknowledge it.

'Something's wrong...' a quiet voice tells him.

Azrael's hand reaches out once more, except this time, it curls around the handle entirely and rests there for a moment as the angel's mind starts to race. 'Y/n.... Are you hiding something from us?'

As soon as the thought enters his head, he can't shake it loose. 

Yes - he trusts you - he knows you'd have no reason to lie to him, and especially not to the Horseman. And yet... Clearly there is something beyond this door that you're trying to divert their attention from and whatever it is has you spooked.

Feeling more and more like a common criminal, Azrael keeps one ear on the room behind him and slowly begins to twist the door handle, wincing when its rusty springs catch and squeak in protest.

His wings shiver with anticipation as he pushes the door open.

What awaits him on the other side is decidedly not a storage cupboard...

“A... bedchamber?” he murmurs to himself. 

Within an instant, he's hit by an oppressive wave of must and wood rot. The smell spills like liquid from the room and seeps into your hallway, causing the archangel's lips to curl, though he's quick to smooth his expression out again because there's something far worse lingering below the initial stench, something that – even after a hundred years – still clings to the peeling wallpaper and broken, dust-choked bed in the corner of the room.

It isn't quite magic, more like the residue of a dark and terrible memory. Azrael knows as well as any angel that memories can be immensely powerful things and capable of haunting a place long after the living are dead and gone. Hesitating, he takes a moment to steel himself before stepping over the threshold and entering that old, foreboding bedroom.

At once, he notices that, as with the door's handle, absolutely everything is covered in a thick layer of grime and dust, the television on the wall, the various, glass bottles that stand on a table at the room's centre, amidst which sits a single, yellowing glass.

Against the wishes of his own nose, Azrael takes a brief sniff at the air and grimaces.

Alcohol.

Even the most pious of angels would recognise it.

He dismissively turns his attention from the bottles and glides over towards a worn dresser that stands to the left of the bed, a bed that stinks of an odour he desperately tries to ignore. Upon the dresser are a vast array of what you;d once called 'photographs,' all of which sit inside basic, wooden frames. Inquisitive, Azrael bends down and peers at them, a soft smile worming across his face when he sees a familiar human grinning back up at him.

You couldn't be much older than four or five, but he'd recognise you at any age. It seems even as a child, you possessed that same, mischievous spark in your eyes.

You're standing alone, and in spite of a clear gap where a tooth has fallen out, you're beaming up at the camera so hard, he imagines your cheeks had to have hurt. In fact, the more Azrael inspects the photo, the more he thinks your expression most resembles a grimace, not a smile. He shrugs it off however, and moves on. After all, the facial structure of humans is such that they're capable of expressions far more complex than those of angels or demons. Perhaps he’s only misreading it. 

The next picture sees you looking a few years older, sitting in the lap of a tall, angular man wearing a white shirt that looks to have been frequently stained by all manner of substances whilst his face is stretched into a grin that makes Azrael's skin crawl. Captured in stillness, it looks menacing and shark-like. Worse still is the large hand that seems to have secured itself like a vice around your thigh, squeezing noticeably into the little, blue leggings you'd worn that day.

You aren't smiling as widely in this photograph....

The archangel's face begins to fall as well.

Humming, he moves on to the next picture and in an instant, that creeping unease suddenly rings in his head like an alarm bell.

Again, you're older here, perhaps early into your adolescence, and the smile you'd sported before is barely there at all. The same man is standing behind you this time, and his long, gangly fingers are clamped down over your too-small shoulders, fingernails digging so hard into the bare skin, the resulting indents are even picked up by the camera.

Your lopsided wince that could be mistaken for a smile at a glance shows off one side of your mouth and in it, Azrael can clearly see that you're missing a tooth.

He may not be the most well-versed on human biology, but he's definitely heard that children only lose the same tooth once. And that the process is a natural one.

Through the lense of the camera, your younger counterpart seems to peer up past the glass frame, past the fabric of time and space and straight into Azrael's misty, pale eyes, a silent yet clear plea in the tilt of your brows and the whites of your knuckles.

'Help me.'

All at once, the archangel feels sick. He staggers backwards, away from the dresser and doesn't even notice the golden halo on his back is thrumming with protective magics, pushing them outwards to envelope your entire house.

He doesn't need Jamaerah's second sight to know that you were afraid of that man who's eyes are stained the same colour as yours. Hazarding a guess as to why you were afraid causes Azrael's throat to tighten.

Swallowing hard, he tries to regain his composure. The archangel has always considered rationality to be one of the greatest weapons in his arsenal and if there was ever a time to use it, that time is now. 

'Perhaps... I am mistaken,' he reassures himself, 'I don’t know human customs nearly as well as I-’ 

“Azrael?”

The angel gives a start and jerks his head around to face the door, only to find Death eclipsing it, his eyes blazing like twin fires.

Stepping forwards into the room, he hisses, “What are you doing in here?”

The Horseman is quite certain he's never seen Azrael look so guilty.

Instead of giving him an answer though, the angel slowly breathes, “Where is Y/n?” Soon, he droops in relief when Death throws a thumb over his shoulder and replies, “Still in the bathing room, tending to a bloody nose... You didn't answer my question.”

Beckoning the Horseman closer, Azrael keeps his voice to a hushed whisper and holds the last photograph up in front of him.

“What do you make of this?”

Azrael's behaviour strikes him as so uncharacteristically odd and secretive, Death actually hurries over to him and snatches the picture frame from his hands, making an effort not to appear curious about the room he's never been inside. The angel watches raptly as Death scans the photographs with his luminous, orange eyes. Then, all of a sudden, the Horseman's fingers tighten around the little, wooden frame, hard enough to make it splinter and Azrael knows his worst fears are being realised. He hadn't imagined it.

Death sees it too.

“You guys shouldn't be in here.”

A tiny voice, low and trembling calls from the doorway and the angel's gaze snaps up. Death, in the meantime, remains too fixated on the photograph to bother acknowledging your presence.

Azrael drifts towards you cautiously, as though you'll bolt at any second. He tries to decide whether it would be better to apologise for invading your privacy or ask you why you look so terrified.

“Y/n,” he starts, paying attention to the way your hands turn over one another incessantly, “We were only-”

“... How... How did you get in? The door was - it was locked! You can't be in here... Get out!” Your voice raises in pitch. There are tears leaking from your bruised eye, swiftly turning the skin underneath it slick and shiny and there’s still a trace of blood underneath your nose.

Death finally lowers his gaze from the photograph and holds you captive under a wide and menacing stare. “A storage room, was it?” he asks curtly, showing you the picture clutched between his ever-tightening fingers.

The moment you lay eyes on it, your back goes rigid and all the blood drains from your face. “Put that down!” you demand and lift your foot as if to take a step inside the room, but as soon as you cross over the threshold, you seem to remember something, and quickly jerk yourself backwards, stumbling into the hallway again and sucking down a ragged gasp, blurting, “Just – Just don't touch it!”

“Why not?” Death drawls and tilts his head to one side, calculating, “It can't be that important to you. You've had it locked in this storage cupboard for these past two years.”

He's pushing you, Azrael realises with a sinking feeling, he's trying to provoke you into an honest reaction, no doubt. The archangel doesn't like it, but he likes the look of that man in the photograph even less.

“That's none of your business!” you snap, heart pounding like a jackhammer against your ribs. Unfortunately, your response only seems to stir something in the Horseman, who draws his head back as though you'd struck him a physical blow and he growls, “I hate to disappoint you, but it is my business where your welfare is concerned.”

“My welfare stopped being your concern about two years ago!”

Death falls silent, jaw clenching.

He'd be remiss to say that your comment hadn't struck at a place he guards jealously. He's painfully aware of the angel's eyes burning a hole into the side of his head and he nearly squirms at the pitying look he's receiving.

It would seem that Azrael knows him a little too well.

“You never once stopped being my concern...” the Horseman mumbles, his gaze moving down to the image in his hand. A younger, smaller you peers back at him with woe caught like sleep-dust behind your eyelashes. Death's eyes shoot back up to you again, the softness gone from his voice when he growls, “Why did you lie to me?”

Tensions are high enough that Azrael doesn't think it prudent to mention you'd lied to him as well.

Apparently, a direct confrontation was not the best way to deal with this delicate situation, a fact that becomes clear when you cinch your jaw shut for a moment, gaze flickering to and fro between the angel and the Horseman.

Seeing two of your most trusted friends standing in his bedroom with a symbol of your shame and your trauma held quite literally in Death's grasp sends your heart rate skyrocketing, fear like poison dripping down into your stomach. You can hardly believe they'd invade your privacy like this. Death especially, who knows better than anyone the necessity for keeping some secrets buried.

He doesn't need to learn about that part of your history - neither of them do. You don't want to have them worrying. And God forbid they should pity you.

Squaring your shoulders, you spin about on a heel and begin to march purposefully down your landing to the stairs.

“Where do you think you're going?!” Death barks after you.

Chest heaving, you pause on the first step and cast a heavy frown over your shoulder at the Horseman, matching his ferocious gaze without a single blink. “If you won't leave that room,” you tell him, “then I'll leave this house. And I'll thank you both to be gone by the time I get back.” 

And just like that, you continue to descend your staircase and disappear below the wooden balustrades. Seconds later and there's an almighty 'slam' that signals you've had an altercation with the front door before leaving through it.

For some time, the house is weighed down under a blanket of silence as the pair of unearthly beings are left to stand in the aftershocks of their actions.

“Oh dear..” Azrael's stare is vacant, worried, and he has several fingertips pressed to his lips. “I fear I've reopened an old wound..”

“No. This... isn't your fault,” the Horseman sighs, “I should have addressed this sooner. I've known for some time there was something Y/n didn't want me to know. And, I suppose, I'd always suspected that this room might lead to some answers.”

Taken aback, Azrael turns a mystified look onto the Nephilim. He'd expected Death to lay the blame upon his feathery shoulders, after all, he was the one who first ventured into this so called 'storage cupboard' and upset the proverbial applecart. Still, he finds it somewhat odd that the Horseman – a nosy creature if ever one walked the nine realms – hasn't ever tried to see for himself what lay beyond the door. Tilting his head, the angel asks, “You never thought to investigate?”

At the question, Death averts his gaze and shrugs one of his pale shoulders. “Admittedly, no, I did not.”

“Well... Why?” Azrael presses, though he already has an inkling.

After a moment of frowning pensively at the photo in his hands, the Horseman turns to look at him and he's once again thrown off by the level of emotion in those wild, striking eyes. Death really has grown since knowing you.

“I never brought it up because....” 

“.... You didn't want to jeopardise your friendship,” Azrael finishes for him softly, and Death is only grateful that he didn't have to say it himself out loud.

At the same time, the two of them peer back at the photograph and the archangel is surprised at himself for the anger that boils in his lungs at the sight of that man’s hands on you. Death however, isn’t in the least bit surprised at the presence of his own rage. 

“Horseman...,” Azrael says, his voice eerily calm, “You don’t supposed.... Y/n might be trying to hide something else, do you?” 

"The bruise...”

Furious, orange eyes meet cool and misty white. 

“It isn’t out of the question,” Azrael breathes, “A random attack from human zealots? Or-” 

“- Or something a bit closer to home,” Death finishes as he tosses the photo onto the nearby bed and turns to face the door. 

Outside, rain continues to hammer relentlessly on the house whilst a streak of lightening illuminates the bedroom and the two, imposing beings inside, one with dark magics crackling at his fingertips, and the other with a halo of solid gold on his back that thrums with violent energy as the glyphs on his wings begin to glow electric blue. 

Without a word, the Angel of Death and the Grim Reaper slip from your house and stride out into the coming storm, their ancient minds focused solely on tracking down their human.

[diosefm]

ATONEMENT: the demise of diose valey

there’s a new revolution, a loud evolution that i saw born of confusion and quiet collusion of which mostly i’ve known a modern day woman with a weak constitution, ‘cause i’ve got monsters still under my bed that i could never fight off a gatekeeper carelessly dropping the keys on my nights off

tw: death, alcohol, paranoia, violence, kidnapping, murder, torture

                                                    TIME OF DEATH: 2:13 AM

trigger free tl;dr

FRANCIS FOREVER — i don’t know what to do without you, i don’t know where to put my hands. i’ve been trying to lay my head down, but I’m writing this at three am

3:08 AM

Sleep evades you. It’s a recurring thing now.

Wine doesn’t help. You’d think it would at least make you tired enough to lie in bed and empty your head, but all it does is give you a headache that can only be cured with more and more glasses. And you think too much. Hyperaware of everything going on around you. 

And even if you can’t sleep, you still have nightmare. You’re wide awake when you swear someone is banging on your window, but it’s just the rain. The sun comes out, hits your eyes and forces you to close them as you get used to the light. Then your door opens. 

You’ve lost count of how many times the avoxes there to serve you have been victims of your latest tirades. You lash out. Scream and shout as you destroy your suite because it’s all you can do. Hysterical, that’s what you are. So you drink more. Slur out a  poor attempt at an apology. It doesn’t matter. Next morning it’ll be as if nothing happened and you will snap again. 

Sleep could help, but you’re no longer used to not sharing your bed with someone.

Days and nights blur together. There is not an end nor a beginning to your days. You’re lying on the floor, at the brink of passing out with a glass of wine in your hand. For weeks, you’ve feared someone will slip something in your drink, poison you. Little did you know, you’re already doing all the work for them.

You can’t remember the last time you ate, nor the last time you slept. You’re delirious. Weak after spending the little strength you had yelling at the avox with the black hair. That is why when your door is opened, you don’t bother to look up.

Your bruised cheek rests against the floor of your suit, the coldness making some of the soreness go away. Someone approaches you, kneels down beside you and runs their hand through your messy hair. 

“Pista?“

Incredible how despite everything, you are still able to hold onto the smallest glimmer of hope. If he is there, maybe you can stand up. Do better. Be better. You promised. 

Your eyes are tired, but even despite how blurry your vision is, you can tell it’s him. Desperate, you prop yourself up with the help of your arm and cling onto him, allow him to lift you off the ground. It’s not until you breathe in his scent that you notice his smell is different. 

Frightened, you take one look at his face and realized you’ve been tricked. It’s eerie how much this man looks like him. Has all of this been done on purpose? Flight or fight. You manage to get him to let you go, but your body is nothing but alcohol at this point, you stumble and fall onto the ground. He calls you a bitch, which you think you deserve. Grabs onto your hair before you can flee, tugging so hard you feel he pulls part of your scalp with it. 

You’d yell for Slate to move save you like he’s done before, but he is gone. And soon so will you. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him pull something out of his pocket. He jabs a needle into your neck, and you finally get to sleep.

SEVEN DEVILS — seven devils all around me, seven devils in my house. see, they were there when i woke up this morning. i’ll be dead before the day is done

8:42 PM

The faint scent of expensive perfume stirs you awake. Your body is sore, and your head pounding. But your outer appearance doesn’t show how terrible you feel. You catch your reflection on a glass table and marvel at what you see, because you swear you’ve never looked more beautiful. 

The dress you are wearing is very familiar. It takes you a few minutes until you realize it’s one of your projects, one that had been sitting in your studio for months. They’ve been at your home, invaded your privacy, gone through your things.

Hair is freshly dyed, perfectly styled to frame your face and the gorgeous job the makeup artists did. No matter what your circumstances have been, you’ve had the ability to always look magnificent. Still, they’ve done a masterful job showing your full potential. 

No wonder so much people have always been desperate to be you, with you, or they just want to end you.

As your eyes get used to the light, you notice you’re sitting in the middle of what appears to be a television set. Your first instinct is to explore it, to leave the pristine mint green couch you’re sitting on, but you notice the shackles around your ankles, essentially holding you in place.

You’re not alone for long. Far away, you notice your father’s assistant woman. A petite woman with a fiery red mane of hair and much younger than you. You know very well she’s his latest conquest and a social climber you managed to spot the second you first set your eyes on her.

 Cherry, you think her name is. Tacky, just like her. But as much as you hate her, she seems to be your only hope. You call out her name, but she ignores you. Long gone are the days of her begging for your attention. Now you’re the one desperate for her to even glance your way. 

This is only the start.

Slowly, more people start arriving,, all of them with a job to do. And despite being surrounded by a crowd now, you’re ignored by everyone. It’s the first time this has ever happened. It doesn’t matter how much you’re glowing, you’re no one to them.

Despite your screams and your pleading, no one tells you what’s happening until a man arrives. You’ve seen him already, you just can’t remember. It’s his scent that clues you in, and you go feral. But you can’t move. the shackles are noisy enough to get everyone to look at you, but he is the only one focused on you, telling you that you need to shut up and avoid making yourself look bad because you will have all of Panem’s eyes on you soon. He adds a threat to his spiel, he brings up Sage and shows you her icture and you instantly press your lips tightly together. 

Caesar arrives shortly. Does’t greet you, doesn’t acknowledge you. Whatever fake yet cordial relationship existed between the two of you is now gone. He is there to do his job, that’s it. He shuffles his notes, deep in thought. The show should commence shortly. 

Prime time TV, here you come.

YOU’RE ON AIR

The title card is gorgeous. But how could it not, given who seems to be behind all of this. First thing you see on the screen behind Caesar is a slide announcing the following show will be a mandatory viewing all across Panem. Odd, so you keep watching.

Next, you see your father’s name on his signature font and golden lettering following by his title as executive producer. It only adds to your confusion, brows furrowing as your eyes remain fixated on the screen. Your father is an all-too powerful media mogul whose name is attached to anything related to the games, but you still don’t understand why you’re there.

At least not until you see the name of this TV special. Inside Panem: Framing Diose Valey

What happens next is a blur. Two hours filled with memories you thought you had forgotten or wish you could forget. The list of little tidbits and scenes the people of Panem are presented with are as followed:

It all starts with your more than humble beginnings. Images of the run-down house you were born in are shown. You find out who your real parents were along with the rest of the country. A butcher and a seamstress. Both starved to death after after the Capitol left Ten with almost nothing to eat. all to celebrate Snow’s birthday. Your father doesn’t show it that way, but you are able to look past his tricks and propaganda now. 

He is an artist, painting the image of a perfect family. Her parents are heroes, saving a child from an imminent death and giving her a life she could have never dreamt of. If you didn’t know any better, you’d be touched. But you are that child, and you’ve grown up and realized you were nothing but a pawn. A tool to up their social standing, to improve their public image. Not that it matters now. Your father has done an incredible job making himself look like father of the year. And maybe a long time ago you genuinely believed that, but the more of this you watch, the less you’re inclined to give him or your mother the benefit of the doubt.

You grow up, flourish into a poised and beautiful young lady. But you’re still a child. Barely into your teens and already perfectly groomed to be just like your parents. It’s the Valey way. Why bother with a normal childhood when you ought to be busy aiming for greatness. Everyone loves you, lauds you. Great things are coming for you. 

Your debut  is a complete success. The younger stylist in the history of the games, it’s a great honor and your parents couldn’t be any prouder. From the get go, you demonstrate how talented you are. Despite your age, your creations are the best in the entire lineup. Many stylist didn’t want you there, thought you had only gotten a spot in the team due to your name. You proved all of them wrong. 

You are a child forced to grow up too fast, but why does that matter when you have a successful career and a thriving business. 

To you, the next scene doesn’t come as a surprise. More of your accomplishments are shown before you are forced to see a summary of the 55th games. You look away, not wanting to see Aven and what they did to Caspian, but your head is held in place by someone behind you. Your eyes begin watering as you see him take his last breath, covered in blood, his face unrecognizable. A makeup artist is ushered in and she pats your face with a tissue and fixes a makeup. Someone orders her to stay by your side, telling her that will happen again. That sounds like a warning. Not directed at her, but you.

Showing what became of Caspian right at the start is something you think was done on purpose. It makes it hurt more when images of you two appear on screen. Laughing, talking. Your father’s collection really has everything; he’s kept a close record of every single thing you’ve ever done. It enrages you when you replay your first kiss in the middle of a private fitting, the way Caspian caresses your cheek and promises he is coming back for you. It’s pure evil that you are forced to watch all of this, but you think it’s even worse every personal detail of your life is now being used to keep others entertained.

 Your father, always so careful about his image, does not show how he refused to keep him alive. Your mother’s punishment after his death is not mentioned either. Your trauma doesn’t matter.

After more images of the rest of your teenage years, your introduction into adulthood is shown and there is a shift in the tone of the program. Your innocent is now long gone. You’re a woman now, one that is perfectly aware of how to use her womanly charms to get what she wants. What your mother encouraged is now a bad thing. Unbecoming of a high society lady. Your behavior is a product of your own trauma, a combination of your mother meddling with your unresolved issues, using them to toy with your head and turn you into something cold and calculated. Having her tell you tears weren’t a woman’s only weapons was a recurring thing all through your life, but given that she is supposed to be the perfect mother, Panem doesn’t see that. 

Tiberius was a constant in your life for years. Not in the same way Slate was, obviously. You never shared your bed with him. You never schemed with him to cheat and favor your tributes. You never plotted to have nuisances murdered. Tiberius was the brains behind everything but the Capitol won’t let such a beloved figure like him see his legacy be tarnished, especially by the likes of a newly disgraced figure. Everything is blamed on you. Diose tricked him. Diose forced him to do this. Diose seduced him. Tiberius is innocent. It’s all bullshit, but you’re not innocent either. If there is something your father has proved so far, it’s that the best calumnies are spiced with the truth. 

You’ve left a sizeable list of victims. Some are dead, some were luckier, having only suffered by seeing their own reputations ruined by the great Diose Valey. This was something else your parents encouraged, but not it’s being used against you. You could argue that things are being taken out of context, but you did all of those things. You lied, you cheated, you killed. Not directly, but does that matter now? You’re heinous person, the worst Capitol has to offer. Why someone wanting to do good and change the system you’ve upheld and taken so much advantage of would trust you is a mystery. 

Your accomplishments are presented along with more of your escapades and intrigues. Death, suffering, greed. Diose Valey is nothing but an evil woman, a harlot desperate to amass as many power and money as she could No one saw it before, but thankfully this story has a hero. Minos Valey is here to open everyone’s eyes. He’s proved no one outside the Capitol should trust you, potentially destroyed the few alliances you’ve made, what else could he do?

Rebel sympathizers have more than enough reasons to hate you now that it’s been shown you’re the shining example of the sins and crimes important Capitoles have incurred in. They’ve always know they’re bad, but now your name is at the top of the list of the worst of the crop. 

Cut all ties. Despite everything, you’re not the only one with skeletons in her closet. There is still people out there stupid enough to forgive your sins because they don’t know any better. Everything you’ve done so far could be excused by saying you did it to continue protecting the values and principles of the Capitol. People have done worse and still came out of top, you could do it. Or could have, had it not been for the train.

You see Pista and you start screaming again. Caesar glances at you before he asks someone to gag you, your screams won’t let him focus and you’re giving him a headache. As per usual, the editing is top notch. Diose Valey, the perfect Capitolite, is now a heinous traitor. More of your words are taken out of context, a narrative crafted to make it all seem that your change of heart happened because you wanted to benefit only yourself. You were willing to destroy the people that gave you everything and turned you into what you are now. Murder can be excused, disloyalty and treason cannot.

Neither you or Pista did anything to hurt any of the Peacekeepers that stood in your way. Did you threaten them? Absolutely. But it was done to protect the man you forced to help you. An image of you attempting to intimidate a peacekeeper by telling them they don’t know who they’re messing is shown. You remember that. It happened. But the next bit revealing the bloody remains of the Peacekeeper you confronted was not your doing. Thing is, who would believe you at this point?

You’ve switched teams, seem content plotting against your current government. The sensitivity that came with your new goals is nowhere to be found. According to your father, all you’ve done after the train has the only intention of benefiting you. Selfish, entitled, spoiled. You will never change. 

He doesn’t misses the chance to embarrass you even further by letting the whole country be a witness to your outburst at the wedding along with you supposedly mistreating your poor mother after some heavy drinking. There is a new narrative line he is following, one you don’t quite understand until it’s explained how unstable you are. You’ve been kind enough to give him more than enough material to work with in the past few days. The awful behavior caused by your paranoia has been turned into a montage of Diose Valey’s worst moments. You’re an unhinged drunk now, an unruly and hysterical woman that can barely function because the weight of every bad thing she’s ever done is eating her up. You think she is being poisoned, people are ought to get you. The terrified faces of the avoxes tasked to care for you are shown in between shots of you screaming and destroying your suite. No mention of Slate’s disappearance and it being the cause of most of your lunacy is made. 

It should be all over now. The screen goes black, no one is talking. They’re all too busy looking at you in pure disgust. You’re given a three minute break before you have a camera pointed straight at your face. Another threat is made. The same man who’s been silently torturing you ever since he took you from your room shows you more pictures. Virgo, Robyn, Slate, Pista. That must mean he is still alive, but you’re not given any time to process this information. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to understand. You know how it all works. If you don’t comply, others will pay. A nod is given before the makeup artist fixes your makeup.

 The show is back on and a clearly glum Caesar comments on what all of you have witnessed. Everything is a shame, it’s all so sad. You were a role model, what happened? Please, as if this isn’t nothing more than a punishment. You’re being framed by your own father and every person in that room is a willing participant.

The interview part of the special doesn’t last very long, because it’s not actually an interview. It’s your father’s own clever way forcing you to confess. You get the privilege of being the final nail on the coffin you will be buried in. that is, if you ever get that. 

You blackmailed Tiberius, forced him to be part of your nefarious plans. Yes, you meddled with the games. We got a list of people who passed due to your doing, can you confirm it all being true? Fine, that one you can’t deny, even if everything is not what it seems. 

I cheated, I lied, I killed, I destroyed many families. You hate that you’ve been beaten at your own game, but there is nothing else to do. It’s either this or seeing those you love suffer. You tired of seeing people be affected by your actions, so you lie again let them pin every single bad thing that’s ever happened on you. 

Everything is almost over. You’re quite proud of yourself or avoiding crying. You were warned about having to look perfect, and you’ve complied with them again and again. No one else is getting hurt. Only you. But you’ve accepted it. 

Caesar goes on a spiel about your recent actions, questions your mental stability, though he is not talking to you, but to the camera. Another announcement is made. His voice is soft and sympathetic as he explains that given how clear it is you’ve gone beyond dangerously teetering on the edge of insanity and have clearly crossed it some time ago.

Do you agree? There is no answer from you. Well, as we all care so much about you, certain measures have been taken. Diose Valey, all your assets will be seized, put under your mother’s name.

Some more is said, a proper explanation is given in order to give viewers some context and explain what all of this means, but you stopped listening the second you understood you now have… Nothing. Your home, your business, your money. Without people to trust that was all you had to rely on, your only way of protecting yourself, but now you’ve got nothing. 

Your credibility is shattered. The alliances you’ve made on both sides, you fear, are certainly ruined now. All the information, connections, and secrets you’ve gathered throughout the years and could be used against them now are unusable. The Capitol has shown you the house always wins.

Everything is over and you’re dragged away. You’d scream, but it’s pointless. You’ve come to terms of what’s coming next. Because, there is nothing else they could do to you. Death, that’s it. You’ve been shamed and humiliated, tortured one last time before they get rid of you for good.

YOUNG & BEAUTIFUL — will you still love me when i’m no longer young and beautiful? will you still love me when i got nothing but my aching soul?

1:51 AM

You didn’t notice you were put to sleep again. You don’t understand why you’re still breathing, nor why you’re naked and tied to a table face down. Everything is pitch black until you manage to spot a very faint and orange light near you. You can’t make up what it is, not until it’s almost dangerously close to your face you can feel the heat whatever that thing is irradiates. 

ЯOTIAЯT

You’re so out of it. But then, you remember seeing those things before. Your father owned a customized branding iron he used to mark all of your horses with the Valey family logo. Everything clicks into place and you start screaming again just as more people come into the room, one of them holding you down as the tool is pressed against the back of your right shoulder. It’s past 2 am by that point.

All you remember is the smell of burnt flesh  before you pass out due to the pain.

4:29 AM

Beaten. Bloodied. The wound cauterized itself and that’s enough for them to be done with you. They’ve done a number to your face, and body. You can feel it in the soreness affecting you from head to tie, but you’re not concerned with that. It’s your shoulders that is killing you. You can still smell the burn flesh as well as the dried blood stuck to your skin all mixed in with the putrid scent of the garbage all around you. You don’t know what time it is, whether if the darkness you see is due to the time or being inside a garbage bin. 

You attempt to get out, but the pain on your shoulder is unbearable. It renders you unable to move enough to be able to do much. And when you attempt to use your hands, you notice them going numb, refusing to follow your orders.

Maybe you ought to stay there. Maybe now that they’ve taken your money and the allure that drove people to you, you’re finally right where you belong.

[tobeornottotc]

So much to say about all Friday shows my brain shut down it’s weird how in a day all the shows that aired from we best love to TT finale made my day and made me happy I cried. We best love is a gem that has come and taken my heart it’s everything I love in BL, it’s like reading a novel and never wanting it to end, the pinining, longing and now the angst still upcoming. My love to all the characters? Everything about the acting, music, and writing. Taiwan came back and said you haven’t forgotten why you adorE BL right? Well here’s more reasons. I’ve missed Taiwan shows for so long I used to take the history series for granted despite my love for it and now look at me. We best love is just so great and cheesy and yet done so well I’ve not have any issues with it 😭 it’s not short, I like how angsty yet sweet it gets. Just everything

Then you have to my star. Is there any moment when Korea does something that does not make me shout from the rooftops another great one!! Like are we surprised at this point. Where your eyes linger still is my favourite Korean BL and although different I get the same vibes from to my star, there’s secret pining, confusing hidden hints to maybe more than just a very happy celebrity that is clingy and flirty. Seojun seems to know he likes boys from the start or is it just me. I won’t be surprised that the reason he’s hiding that video is because the reason there was a fight was because it’ll out his sexuality, either he had something with said guy he paid money to keep quiet about or said guy knows about his sexuality and threatened to blackmail him. But it’s the subtle hints that he may know about himself and his feelings like in episode 4 how many times he leaves clues and hints he likes Jiwoo but hides it behind this clingy want to be friends persona, I think when he was drunk he let out his true feelings he’s been hiding and he outed himself on purpose. I’m probably thinking too much but there’d be a lot at stake in my opinion if someone knew he likes guys it’d be a bigger scandal that’s probably why he acts like he doesn’t know when he’s flirting or hinting he likes someone. Just me? Jiwoo is also an interesting tsundere why does he have his walls so up, he clearly also has feelings but in the trailer he’s going to harshly break Seojun’s heart? Obviously I think it’s a lie it’s noble idiocy he realised it was the way to help him not get caught in another scandal. I really need to know more about his character. And the chef who knows more than he lets on who is he speaking to about Seojun does he know the other guy in the video? Does he know why Seojun is hiding the video he seems to have picked on the chemistry of Seojun and Jiwoo more proof that person was right? Let me know what your ideas are on this show. If this show is dealing with internalised homophobia and the scandal of the media invasion and celebrity lifestyle then man it’ll be fun to rewatch this time and time again. Kisses in Korean BL shows have become a staple for revealing a lot of secrets and pushing our couples to confront the truth about what they try to rationalise when it comes to their feelings. In where your eyes linger them entering a relationship was not good for them because it’d lead to separation and more. In Mr heart the kiss was revealed and forced our marathon runner to question his priorities and feelings. And in wish you the kiss happened when Sang yi could no longer run away from what he was feeling even if it meant they couldn’t be together because of same reasons as this show I’m guessing a scandal being caused because idols and celebs dating is a bit forbidden in kmusic and kdrama industry. Loses the fans. And attracts media attention. Let’s see what To my star reveals with this kiss now Seojun isn’t hiding what he feels anymore.

Then we have 1000 stars premiere and I cried at sheer greatness I’m a clown I came into it trying hard to keep my expectations at bay but my 30 minutes in I was bawling stunned and quiet. The directing is exquisite, in depth and littered with clues and hints to the themes of the show. The focus on the flashbacks of Tiens life coated in dark light and suffocating aura compared to the light and warm atmosphere of Torfuns narration whose life seemed hard but she found peace and joy just helping people and learning about the joy of finding value in every little things she had and saw. The peace that Tien couldn’t feel because he felt stifled and empty from his own choices when he thought his life span would be short. He didn’t know the value of money, life or little things. He wasted and gambled precious things to him, acted privelaged and lost hours in a sea of acohol, cigarettes and more. His lifestyle felt wrong after he realised he was given a second chance to find meaning. There’s an overall dark theme of corruption, greed and power that’s going to me an obstacle for the characters. Torfuns demise is clearly more than just an accident with the way people are trying to push her life to the side rapidly, hide details like even selling Tiens car which I have a feeling is what took her life (not him but he bet it in a race before he fainted) or clues that Phupha isn’t going to be done trying to figure out what happened to her it’s foreshadowing this isn’t over yet. We also have another villain who fled during the forest ranger fights at the beginning, he’s definitely coming back I wonder what these criminals want and how much danger Pha will have to deal with with this boss and his other hooligans. Why are they in the forest and what do the rangers have to protect? Lastly our couple met and you can’t tell me that Pha isn’t smitten he is struck with love at first sight immediately he meets Tien but he hides it through his stern cover and he finds it funny to bicker and tease him. He also thinks Tien is too delicate, rich and shallow to stay to help the kids, so he’ll struggle with liking Tiens determination and drive to feeling angry at how much value of life and money he takes for granted but it’s a learning arc something Tien will grow learning and transforming from. Their bickering is cute, both are intrigued by each other already Tien because Pha is connected to Torfun’s wishes and hopes, but also he saw him in the weird fantasy dream thing. He’s intrigued by his stern cover vs why people seem to think he’s sweet and kind. And he’s irked by the guy who keeps getting under his skin and calling him out. It’s going to be fun to see his own reactions and feelings develop slowly and his doubt that it’s his and it’s Torfun’s heart acting up. That conflict will be so interesting to explore and knowing Backaof we’ll get a deeper conversation about sexuality, spirituality and more. All his shows even his fantasies have these deep reflections and conversations about feelings and life of someone struggling with what their sexuality is to them. Even when fantasy he never fails to include those scenes. But also there’s always a massive plot twist hidden in the story that could tear our characters apart, and it’s connected to our girls demise 🥺 i have so much more to say about this show. But for now just know I’m obsessed in awe and excited for this journey. It’ll be emotional a roller coaster of emotions and lessons, but also a love story I can’t wait to see unfold

Lastly TT finale. It’s precious to say TharnType will always have a place in my heart, marked into it as my favourite couple. Their love is so incredible, everlasting and theirs, their journey to each other has never been easy and yet their love is constant, precious and real. They make me smile and want to cry because I still can’t process we’ve come to the end. Boy was it a good way to say goodbye. I will miss this show, the annoyances, problems and also the good moments. I will miss my LeoFiat dramatic souls, their angst and their own journey to each other. Glad to seeFiat finally got to define the relationship he’s been hoping and waiting for. And Leo finally got to show Fiat how much he’s cared. Question why didn’t I get a kiss scene from them? Forever staying petty about that. Champ and Khun did what they were meant to do, their own relationship was also adorable and I just wish it wasn’t only the last episode we had to deal with their confession and realisation that there’s been something here all along. Champs cute though his nativity and dumbness was real and pure but I like how he understood what he was feeling and why he wanted Khun by his side and more. So well done to them getting together. We had Tharn finally Wade his way into Type’s fathers acceptance I wish he wasn’t just a comedic role but we had more conversations serious ones about him learning to accept Tharn still it was wholesome he grew to finally let them be together he understood Type was never going to leave Tharn and was at his best with him. Love the Kirigun family and how much they push Tharn to be his best. Their support was earnest and I loved we saw Thorn get married like a full circle after he proposed and found his own love story. We Stan a very protective supportive older brother who has always been a source of help during TT relationship. Techno irked me in this series and he became one of my least fave characters his snooping whilst cute just didn’t mesh well with me and I kept wondering where his man was because he acted like someone who wasn’t satisfied in the relationship he was in. Just an annoying presence overall. Sorry not sorry. That being said I didn’t hate this sequel and I know rewatching it as second part to TT journey watching 24 episodes of TT back to back will be an emotional experience and will show you all the clues, meta, subtext and overall plot of these two in a better light. Overall TT is always going to be a fave show of mine, and the sequel whilst not fulfilling all my expectations it made me still feel like it was worth my attention and care. Thank you to the cast, crew and production for this. My Fridays will never be the same we’re really now in 2021 with these new shows 😭 just manner of d@earth to go. 😭

Friday shows bringing me joy, excitement and most of all new lessons and new ideas. I’m so excited and I loved that these are the shows we have in January. Let’s hope they keep being great and our Fridays stay exciting and warm 👌

[naivesilver]

@bewilderedmoth​ FINE. Fine. Since today is a Monday and therefore a day much more suited for a vitriolic commentary on terrible insects, I shall fulfill your request and the anon’s. I’m warning everyone in the premises, though -  this is a “no fucks given” list, so it may get ugly at any time. Also, as usual, this is only for things that I’ve already watched, so if you know of some cricket horror and don’t see it mentioned, assume I’ve yet to get to that specific adaptation.

Alright then! To the barricades!

1) Disney’s Pinocchio (1940)

The first of his genre. Look at this asshole - he’s literally the last creature I’d entrust my child to. The fact Pinocchio had to spend his first couple days of life with this guy shadowing his every step is mind-boggling, and it’s made even worse by the fact that the Blue Fairy put him in charge of another man’s kid, as though she had the right to make that choice.

(I won’t fall for the desire of dunking on the Fairy more, as this is a Cricket list, but believe me, the temptation is there. It always is.)

As Disney sidekicks go, he’s one of the worst. He’s not funny, and despite having literally ONE job he manages to fail spectacularly at it. He’s snappish at Pinocchio, he abandons his charge about two hours into the new day, he spends a much longer time flirting with female-presenting inanimate objects/animals/supernatural beings than doing any actual childrearing. He should have been forgotten the instant the movie left the theaters, but instead Disney made him one of his main mascots, giving him the role of storyteller or ghost or whatever the fuck they need him to do at the time. So not only is he single-handedly responsible for every other entry in this list, I keep finding him everywhere I turn my eyes to. A knock-off version of his Ghost of Christmas Past self was in the new Ducktales, too, so my friend freenklin (who already has had to endure many of my complaints) received some VERY disappointed scream-texts as I was liveblogging my watch.

Just...no. Get him out of my sight.

(Also Ewan McGregor is bound to voice him in the live action and like??? Excuse me??? Are we supposed to not make Obi Wan jokes??? Will he abandon his young padawan Pinocchio to the evil Strombolitroopers???)

2) Pinocchio and the Emperor of the Night (1987)

This movie is at the bottom of my Pinocchio adaptation ranking, and boy, does it deserve the dishonor. The story is a weird mixture of adaptation and sequel, approximately a tenth of the characters actually appear in the book, and I can’t forgive them for ruining what could have been the coolest concept ever (Pinocchio as a pawn in a fight of good vs evil) into this disgrace of a cartoon.

As for the Cricket, in this case he’s not even a cricket. He’s a glowworm, and he’s a goddamn puppet too, to whom the Fairy gave life. I wonder, is the entirety of her job just...transforming people’s creations into sentient beings so that they can lead others to a honest life? Tell me, ma’am, do you want to breathe life into my disappointing Powerpoint presentations too, so that they might bully me into graduating?

Anyway, if you’re wondering what purpose Gee Willikers (sigh) serves, the answer is NONE. Pinocchio gets rid of him at least twice (good for him) and as easily as drinking a glass of water, he’s a burden to the (admittedly cooler) additional characters, like the aviator bee, and not only is he ugly as fuck, but also so annoying every time he gets a chance to speak that it’s a miracle he wasn’t cut out in post-production.

In short, disgusting. If he entered my home I’d swat him with a flycatcher until he leaves.

3) Pinocchio (2009)

This is essentially Disney’s Jiminy Cricket, but female, anthropomorphic, and with a passion for books instead of pretty ladies or ladies-adjacent objects. Mind you, a sapphic Cricket would perhaps have saved more than one adaptation, this one included, but I’m glad they skipped that part altogether. This miniseries has enough issues as it is.

I’m sorry, she’s just too annoying. Luciana Littizzetto can be funny, but in small doses, otherwise her jokes start to become repetitive. Two hours straight - and yes, it’s that much, because SOMEONE decided to follow Disney’s footsteps a little too well - are too long even for the strongest of hearts. Plus, none of the characters’ costumes are very flattering, accurate or well-made (except for Lampwick 💖), but hers just might take the cake. It looks like a mixture between a teenager’s first attempt at steampunk fashion and a Mardi Gras costume lifted from the discarded items’ bin at a cheap store. Takes you out of the fantasy more than anything else.

4) Roberto Benigni’s Pinocchio (2002)

I’ve talked at length of the weirdness of this movie, but all in all it’s a pretty accurate transposition of the story, from the dialogue to the scenery.

Except for him.

The Cricket in this case does appear in the scenes belonging to him, but ALSO in a long and extremely useless sequence where he tries to find Pinocchio in the Land of Toys and gets kicked around by literally everyone present. Don’t get me wrong, that’s something I would have liked to do as well, but it was totally unnecessary, and it gave nothing to the overall story. This movie still holds the record as the most expensive Italian movie ever made, so wouldn’t it have been better for everybody to  skip that part entirely? Not only it would have saved them some money, but also it would have saved me from seeing this guy for an additional fifteen minutes on my screen.

Still, pretty tame compared to some of the others. Could have been worse.

5) Once Upon A Time (2011)

I debated long and hard before making this choice, and I’m not putting him in with a light heart, but before you come at me with pitchforks, please listen.

I like Archie, okay! He’s a fun character, the human side of his backstory was great and gave him a lot of depth and inner turmoil, and the concept of Jiminy Cricket being a therapist is amazing and hilarious. But he’s kind of a shit therapist, whose actions aren’t always what you’d expect from someone who’s supposed to be a conscience and a guide. And despite the show giving us the impression that he and Pinocchio had the same adventures as in the Disney movie (which doesn’t exactly endear him to me - if it wasn’t for his later character development he’d already be Lil Nas X-ing his way down to the bottom of my list), he and August never interacted on screen after the First Curse broke. Not once. And if there’s someone who needs therapy and support, that’s August Wayne Booth.

Yes, I did say at some point that I’d like to fix this in a fic. I’ll write it when I don’t have like eight projects on my table at the same time.

Finally, two scenes settled the matter for me: one, him pontificating at Snow about her trying to do everything on her own, without even pretending to help her set up the stroller she was struggling with at that very moment. I work with kids every day, I know exactly what she’s going through. Shut your mouth and open the damn stroller, Archie.

And two...That one fucking scene where he’s jumping out of Snow White’s cleavage. Honestly, what the fuck??? I wouldn’t even have remembered it if Libby hadn’t reminded me, so I suppose my brain tried to remove the traumatic memory before it caused any further damage, but it exists, and I’m still wondering why. What exactly was the deal with the writers, when they made that choice? I want a glass of what they were having, because by God, does it sound like a trip-inducing cocktail.

Aaaand we’re done! Remember, this is all part of my personal opinion, and I’m not to be taken seriously even on the best of days. Plus, my favorite cricket-esque character, aside from the book-accurate ones, is Gina from Piccolino no Bouken, who is a duck, a sassy little bastard and no closer to Collodi’s canon than any of these fuckers. So yes, when it comes to choices dictated by the heart, I am an hypocrite. Au revoir!

[the-other-totally-normal-account]

The Mist's Angels

Out of the mist, the Angels come. Death incarnate. They whose blood runs deepest were there upon the final day of the Heresy, when demigods clashed and rivers of genetically enhanced blood flowed, loyalist and traitor alike. They were there when The Mist was struck down. And they will be here long after us; full of bitterness and seething hatred towards the traitors who killed their mother, and shame towards their own failings and curse.

They are the Corporation's most brutal, savage warriors when pitted against the enemies of mankind, lost in a bloodlust and rage that has been with them since the start, yet when off the field of battle they are nothing but secretive, cunning, and superstitious.

It is known they are hiding something, it is certain, even, but what it is they are hiding is unknown to all but those among their ranks.

Once headed by the Sephirah, Geburah, they are now all alone; Left to fight endlessly in the darkness of these millenniums, with no end in sight.

With a highly unstable geneseed and a gradually increasing list of splintered teams, they nevertheless push on.

Their Sephirah, Geburah, was originally a high ranking fixer, highly trusted by Ayin once they all were absorbed into the quickly forming Corporation.

During a widespread rebellion in Branch 5, District R, a branch which highly resisted unification, her position was overwhelmed by highly trained enemy combatants and she and many others were slain. A small group of fixers, however, managed to recover her alongside the body of what would be another future sephirah.

Her brain was somehow kept alive by technologies long-since forgotten, long enough for the transfer process to begin. Though just speculation, it seems as if Ayin, though we dare not speak ill of him, had already prepared the necessary genetically engineered body required for transfer, as if he was expecting her to die sooner rather than later.

At that very moment, she was no longer a fixer; Instead, she was Subject Geburah of the Tree of Life program, a Sephirah, who would later go on to earn various titles, and eventually, reclaim the title she earned as a fixer.

Gebura, like many other sephirah, did not quickly grow accustomed to her new stations as a general, and like the others, shared no memory of her past life. Emotional outbursts were regular during the early days, but became more and more frequent as the years went on.

The outbursts, however, were evolved but largely unchanged as time passed by.

As stated above, even from the beginning, she was known for her unbridled rage and, though previously unstated, also known for psychic outbursts that would occasionally occur.

It eventually got to the point where, despite her and her legion's excellent track record, she and them were feared. Even other legions were apprehensive to fight alongside them, despite their unquestionable loyalty.

They as a legion were secretive and odd from the beginning. Many of their operations ended up classified, records of Employees recruited into them completely expunged, and an unspecified, vaguely defined meeting between Gebura and one of the other psychic Sephirah.

But, the previously mentioned things that were and still are part of them as a Legion only were exacerbated and pushed to their logical conclusions during the most unspeakable, horrifying event since the first battles of the Unification.

The Heresy.

Gebura took the Heresy possibly the hardest, second to Netzach.

On the day the news of the betrayal from her brothers and sisters reached her, a Shockwave of psychic energy flooded both real space and the Stream, causing weaker Psychics everywhere to collapse and begin clawing their eyes out and deafening themselves.

And on her ship, the first records of what is only known as the Bloodcursed of the Mist's Angels emerged. At the time, it was a one off incident, but it soon started happening to her own Employees everywhere she went, when her rage became too overwhelming for even her. No details of what the Bloodcurse entails have ever been known.

- - -

Record Date: [OMITTED]

Ship Log: #3283-P

Author: [OMITTED]

Incident Description: Upon the news of the incident in the Outskirts of the solar system reaching us, our gene mother let out a deafening howl of rage so pure and so intense that all glass within a 130 meter radius shattered instantly.

Her honor guard were deafened by it, and some had visions race through their minds of an unrecognizable battlefield and bleeding demigods.

Some of them would not calm, and had to be executed.

It was a singular incident.

- - -

From there, her anger not subsiding, she quickly met up with her loyalist brothers and sisters, and entered into a meeting that is, to this day, classified.

What was said is largely unknown and no eyewitness accounts ever escaped the meeting room, besides one, from an unknown persons who never gave their name.

And what was disclosed from that account is that Hod, still masquerading as a loyalist, only appeared over coms, and with a convenient excuse; She was stuck fighting a several month long battle and wouldn't be there in any good amount time, but would eventually make it.

Eventually, begrudgingly accepting what Hod had said, they decided on a plan. They would rapidly approach and decimate the district and branch their heretical brothers and sisters were held up in.

Not one planet would survive.

And they did just that, until, at last, they got to the final planet that they knew for a fact the heretics were held up in.

Upon arrival to the planet, the heretical Sephirot, at the time, were officially not many. But, it would soon be found that even those by the loyalist's sides couldn't be trusted.

During the descent on the planet, panicked com signals reached several members of the Mist's Angels, all originating from the Flagship of The Cherishers, Hod's Legion, the ship known as the Light Carrier.

Panicked screams of agony rang out and gunfire echoed as a single message got through.

A scream of the short exclamation:

"DON'T LAND!"

Something was wrong.

On the Light Carrier, unbeknownst to the other Legions at that point, there was a massacre occurring. Every Employee from another Legion that was on it was being systematically and horrifically maimed and murdered by the traitorous Cherishers in a display of brutality and treachery unmatched, until the events that would follow on the planet down below.

The planet spoken of previously, officially, had no proper name- just a number and designation- but the inhabitants of it called it Babel. Before being taken over, it was a haven of knowledge and advancement, who's main exports were geniuses, books, and technology.

By the point the Mist's Angels and other legions arrived, what was left of the civilian populace was bones and slaves.

When word of the transmission got to Gebura, it was far too late. Troops had already landed and secured their positions.

Trusted members of the Mist's Angels were found dead in their chambers, replaced by members of the Golden Legion, and the ships sabatoged in kind.

Soon, coms went silent aboard the Flagship of the Mist's Angels. Not due to bloodshed, but due to the fact that all communications were disabled. The controls were disabled.

And it wouldn't be up and running for many hours.

No warning arrived to others, but the Mist's Angels knew what was coming. And they, and their Sephirah sat helplessly as the troops they did send, and those of their brethren, fought on the planet which would become their grave.

After two hours, the forces of the Mist's Angels on the ground realized while engaging enemy forces that the coms from their Flagship had gone silent- and nobody could figure out why. After five hours, speculation ran wild, but no real consensus was reached.

Thirteen hours into the fighting, when the heretics seemed to be on their last legs, tactical maps showed that, as they advanced towards the enemy, massive groups from three legions were approaching from behind- both behind them, and behind the enemy.

It was seen as a blessing by those among the Mist's Angels; Reinforcements arriving to help finish the job, when several of their allies- besides the two groups from other legions accompanying them- were fighting on another front or engaged in space combat.

They were horribly wrong.

It didn't take long for the renegade legions of the Golden Legion, the Cherishers, and the Crown's Heralds to reveal their treachery.

All accompanied by their Sephirot save for the last, they immediately launched their attack. Confusion was rife, death was constant, and on an unrecognizable battlefield, demigods bled.

The forces of the Mist's Angels that were on the ground were massacred brutally. A few made it off-world via transports, but they were outliers.

And the rest, as they say, is history; A bitter, sad history, but history nonetheless.

Years later, during the final battle of the Heresy, long after this massacre, Gebura succumbed to her wounds and died at the hands of one she had once thought as her sister.

- - -

Several thousand years after the Betrayal of the Three, and the Heresy as a whole, the Mist's Angels are splintered and fractured.

Mental instability, even more dark secrets, unstable Geneseed, and the ostracization of Teams due to even minor mutations all cloud their present and their future with the oncoming darkness; The darkness approaching Both the Corporation and the Mists Angels.

They fight without cause, without their Sephirah, and without purpose in a galaxy that fears them all. But they fight still.

May the dawn shine upon us all.

- - -

Gebura woke up somewhere dark and distant from the battle she was just in. Her last memories were of something going straight through her chest, and more blood than she had ever seen come out of someone before.

As she stood up, she felt the cold floor beneath her feet. Hard and glass-like.

She knew she wasn't wearing her armor anymore, nor was she wielding her weapons; And she couldn't see out of her right eye, but she could feel her blood dripping down her face.

Soon after standing up, her anger and rage from the battle before subsided quickly, and all that was left was confusion as, in the distance a light appeared.

The light burned brightly and, as she walked towards it, it burnt brighter.

Every step seemed to cause the light to grow brighter, and every step felt far lighter on the ground than it should have been.

As she got to the light, she noticed it was a burning feather, held in suspension by some sort of chain.

She tugged on the chain and...

Nothing happened, for awhile, at least. She felt like something should have. Like something was off.

And then it happened.

Thousands of massive, bright yellow eyes illuminated the darkness around her, like spotlights littering a city skyline.

Then, they closed.

[chattegeorgiana]

@asukadattebayo 

sorry, a long rant, but it was an idea that I suddenly had.

I was writing a personal project and making a list for each character, their own goals, flaws and strengths, and I think I already know what is one of the biggest problems of the female characters of Naruto.

They don’t have a goal.

Or Kishimoto just forgot they had them. Sakura wanted to be strong, catch up with Naruto and Sasuke in terms of never having to watch their backs anymore, but all the development that was seen in the manga (the anime doesn’t count, it’s just a lack of respect for Kishimoto’s work) just was left aside by fanservice and a toxic relationship that has no basis other than a childish crush.

However, the rest of the characters (Ino, Tenten, Hinata, even Temari) just don’t have any clear goals in the manga.

Many say that Sakura is useless, but her value does not depend on the other characters, although her goal is because she wants to reach the level of her teammates, her existence is not in relation to Sasuke or Naruto, but than her independence from them.

Ignoring the obvious disadvantage of not having a power-up, being the reincarnation of a demigod ?, having a bijuu or a technique like the sharingan, Sakura achieves her goal, she is strong and capable of fighting, even if people make fun of her. , she served her purpose, she is a character who is a doctor, reaches the level of her teacher, despite being young and hit a goddess with her fist.

Since many people like to say that Sakura is useless, easily comparing her to Hinata there are simply no similarities when it comes to the character arcs. Hinata, whose value depends on the existence of Naruto, has no real motivation, her scenes focus on Naruto, on getting his attention, and not on being a better version of her.

When the shippers talk about her sharing a ‘ninja way’ with Naruto, it really doesn’t make sense when she sacrificed her entire life (her position in the clan, her ninja career, her gear, etc.) for Naruto when he did reach the goal. of all his life. Even if Naruto was obsessed with bringing Sasuke back and helping him, he never gave up on his dream of being the Hokage.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate Hinata, I just think it’s not fair to compare completely different characters, but they both have one thing in common. They are victims of a hasty ending, a bad character arc, and just what SP has done.

Hinata’s character had potential if Kishimoto had tried to develop the Hyuga clan topic (you know, slavery, curses, murder and sacrifice, mistreatment, etc.). Develop her character to exceed her father’s expectations, inherit the position that was for her without sacrificing it for a MAN, making changes to her clan traditions if she was as kind and good as she should be, giving other members of her clan 

NOT cause her cousin to sacrifice himself solely for the purpose of giving her and Naruto a reason to be together.

Neji deserved better!

And by the way, when they come out with the scene of her sacrifice of Hinata at the hands of Pain (and they make jokes about Sakura’s scream) I only remember that Naruto has shown that he cares for all his loved ones equally and simply putting someone like Shikamaru (with another dialogue obviously) who has been close to Naruto all his life, even supporting him and trusting that he will be Hokage and he will help him, I’m sure the same thing that happened with the six tails would happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think the problem is that not that they don’t have a goal. All of them do. They aren’t focused on. Unlike Naruto’s and Sasuke’s objectives, the objectives of the other members of the cast are forgotten along the way.

We have Sakura - she was supposed to save Naruto and Sasuke, she used to do a lot of research on Akatsuki, Orochimaru etc. Did we see it that much? We didn’t sadly.

Part 2 started that good in this respect, only to fail flat by the end of the series. All that information Sakura gathered on Orochimaru and Akatsuki was... for nothing. Plot never mentioned it again, Kishimoto just removed her from that subplot. Such a shame, truly.

Then let’s take Hinata - what do we know about her? She WANTED TO CHANGE. To become more confident. I even recently reread the manga due to the NaruSaku symbolism post, and I delved a bit on the Hyuga subplot because I got reminded of something.

I did say in one of my posts that I strongly believed that Hinata’s purpose was to change and become the leader the Hyuga needed. She just had to do it differently than the old ways, alongside Neji.

Neji, OH POOR BABY NEJI! He was supposed to change the Hyugas alongside Hinata, of course. Because Hinata surely would change, but her gentle nature is her essence, so she’d never fully have the strength to go against the pains in the asses, pardon my french, of the Hyuga. That’s for Neji to take on. Like Naruto and Sasuke the light and shadow Hokage, the same way would work for Hinata and Neji in the Hyugas subplot.

Tenten, remember how she wanted to be a legendary Kunoichi like Tsunade? Imagine HOW WONDERFUL that would’ve worked in the context of female cast and its connection to the female audience.

That would’ve been just so aawesome to explore! When Tsunade comes in the village, she instantly runs to Neji to share the news with him. Did we ever see that part explored? No, we didn’t.

The problem isn’t that they don’t have goals, they do. Some don’t have clear definite goals, granted. But in the context of the plot they aren’t there to serve more than that.

But in the context of those who DID have goals, sadly, like I said, outside Naruto and Sasuke we didn’t see them getting explored more. And I think that’s the major problem.

Especially when it came to female cast..

But yeah, you do make an overall good point and what I’m saying here is my own elaborate way to kinda agree with it, lol. :D Just minor tweaks to the idea. :D

[solacefruit]

Hello, I re-read your fic "one of a king, no category" again recently and first of all I absolutely love it and I always tear up no less then 3 times every time I read it. I was curious, if you remember, how you decided on the 9 cats you chose for the 9 lives ceremony, and also were there any other characters you considered using but who didn't end up making the cut?

Hello there! Thank you so much for writing in with such a sweet compliment, it really warms my heart to know that story has hit such a lovely chord with so many people. I think out of all the stories I’ve written for Warriors so far, one of a kind, no category is the one I’m proudest of and the one I’d like to be remembered for the most. 

And thank you for this question, it’s a very good one! I have a feeling it’ll get very long, though, so I’ll put it under the cut. 

I didn’t have to think much at all to know which cats I wanted to write about for this story, because I’ve been thinking about these nine in various ways since I first read the series. In many ways, one of a kind, no category is a love letter to characters I felt were treated cruelly and unfairly in canon and I wanted to give them a brief moment to be something other than what they were--whether that was to complicate or reinterpret the narrative they’re given in canon, or to highlight the qualities they have that often get overlooked or underappreciated by the writers (and sometimes other fans). 

So there’s cats like Silverstream and Rosetail, who are barely there and then killed off as a plot point--to cause drama for Greystripe or show the brutality of clan life, respectively. Then there’s cats like Lizardstripe, Nightcloud, and Foxheart who are basically written as shallow, “bitchy” antagonists--and as a result are often seen that way by the fandom--or cats like Ferncloud, who are seen as “boring” or “useless” because of their time in the nursery and often resented for that by fans. 

And I don’t necessarily blame fans for these readings of the characters, because the canon is so badly written. I think there’s always a tendency for male characters to be given leniency and complicatedness that is often withheld for female characters, but in Warriors, that cultural reading issue is compounded by the fact the writers themselves don’t ever really do female characters justice. Canon Ferncloud is largely there to pop out kittens and then died in battle “as a result of fan complaints” because Erin Hunter’s misguided understanding of the criticism they were receiving--i.e., interpreting “all she does is have kittens” to mean “we want her to fight [and die]” instead of “please give her character depth--no, not death, no, Erin, don’t--”

I wanted to take these characters and humanise (for lack of a better word) their canonical representations in a way that makes you actually care about who they are/were and the life they lived. Silverstream’s death is a tragedy. Rosetail’s life is a triumph. I wanted these experiences to be embodied in a story in a way that could give readers feelings and change how people thought of these (canonically very badly written) characters, not because I think Erin Hunter is a secret genius and deserves it (they don’t, I hate them), but because the characters themselves deserve more recognition and care than they often receive. 

Anyway, I’m sorry, I’ve gone way off track! To actually answer your questions: 

1. Leopardstar: one of the few female leaders--whose story is then basically about what a bigot she is and how she betrayed her whole clan (more or less) for a man because she was secretly in love with Tigerstar. I hate that they made a female leader (one of very few!) just to be like “eh she’s a lackey to an evil man she’s in love with who doesn’t care about her.” 

2. Rosetail: as mentioned before, she is barely in canon at all (in the main series; she returns in Bluestar’s Prophecy as kind of Bluefur’s best friend?). She’s actually the first clan cat to die after Firepaw joins Thunderclan, but it mostly gets swept aside and people are sad for like a minute and then the shock value wears off and she’s forgotten. 

3. Nightcloud: she’s kind of the contentious female character of the main series, because she’s either too clingy or too mean or a bad mother etc., and I’ve seen many people sympathise with Crowfeather over her--even though her side of things genuinely sucks. I wanted to give her space to be a kind of unlikeable person who still deserved better than she got. I think she deserves the same compassion people are willing to the extend to the man who mistreats her. 

4. Brightheart: one of the most famous disabled characters of canon--but she never really gets a decent resolution. Her ending is “happy” but I feel that she’s not really given closure for much of what happened to her, and in many ways the story around her is still very ableist. I feel like there’s a lot of extremely challenging internal growth that she would have had to do that never gets noticed in canon, so I wanted to give her a moment of sharing a fraction of the strength and wisdom she would have taught herself. 

5. Silverstream: as mentioned before, she’s so young and it feels to me like she exists--and dies--for the purposes of man-pain and I hate that. She gets so little personality in canon and then dies in childbirth, and I wanted to first give her a self that is so wonderful and real that it genuinely is devastating that she dies. It’s not a shrug, or a “poor Greystripe”: it’s a heartbreak to see someone so vivacious and excellent and hopeful get their life cut short. I want her story to be centred on who she is, not who she fell in love with and how he feels. 

6. Foxheart: she’s basically a mean, snotty villain in Yellowfang’s Secret (as is Lizardstripe) and an enemy of Yellowfang in a way that to me reeks of internalised misogyny from Erin Hunter, if I’m real with you. I wanted to give another interpretation of the events--especially considering how unbelievable it is that Yellowfang “got away” with that whole secret kit thing. It doesn’t make sense, unless you consider that other cats are in on it. Literally all Foxheart had to say to ruin Yellowfang’s life was ���that kitten’s not mine”--and she never said that. I think that gets overlooked a lot and I wanted to explore that detail. And I thought it fitting to reinterpret a character whose name is literally an insult in canon (”fox-heart”) as having so much integrity that she would rather go down in history as a villain than be a snitch and a traitor to a clan-mate.

7. Lizardstripe: similar to above, she’s written as a horrible, bitter lady who resents her own mate and kits and is bullied into fostering Brokenkit and is miserable about that. It’s literally said “[h]er bitterness and resentment towards Brokenstar is what led him down his path of hatred” which is classic “blame a woman for a man’s behaviour” and a very rich statement from Erin Hunter who in the same breath is like “some cats (i.e., Brokentail) are just born evil as a punishment from Starclan on their birth mothers for breaking their vows.” It is so vile how Erin Hunter’s writing revolves as much as possible around blaming and punishing women for everything, including and especially men’s development and behaviour. 

8. Ferncloud: sort of mentioned before, but Ferncloud over the years has gotten a lot of fan disapproval for being passive and frequently pregnant. I think a lot of those criticisms--when levelled at Erin Hunter’s lazy writing--are fair and just but sometimes I feel that, in pursuit of more “strong” female characters in media, some fans forget to appreciate the many ways femininity and female characters can be subversive and/or still good, even when they’re not traditional hero’s narratives. In the real world, domestic labour (i.e., women’s work) is significantly undervalued, and I feel that Ferncloud can be read as an amazing example of someone who works to the bone every day and is largely ignored and underappreciated because the work she does is expected and taken for granted. 

9. Greypool: I love her--or at least my version of her. She doesn’t get a lot of attention in canon, other than a mention of being the foster mother to Bluestar’s kits and the fact she loses her memory as she ages and is murdered by Tigerclaw. It felt fitting for her to be the final life, both as a great and renowned storyteller in her own right and a cat considered to be very wise and kind with her words and thoughts, since ultimately one of a kind, no category is about the way stories can be told to shape the world--i.e., Erin Hunter’s often sexist canon versus the compassionate and intelligent retellings this fandom creates. 

As for cats that weren’t included, I’m happy with the nine I chose and I love them, but there are a lot of other cats who’ve been poorly treated by canon that would deserve a better story too. Snowfur of Thunderclan leaps to mind, as does Feathertail, and Palebird of Windclan, and honestly even Bluestar and Mapleshade. I think to a certain extent it’s hard to really engage with any of these characters’ narratives without also acknowledging the impact of sexist tropes on that narrative--i.e., how much of canon is “the character” (an intentional construct) and how much of their characterisation/story is kind of a side-effect of uncritical sexism perpetuated in the writing of said character? And I don’t really know the answer, because that’s not really a line that can be drawn. But I like to think one of a kind, no category and similar stories help reimagine other versions of these characters as fuller, more real people and that thought makes me happy. 

[gildedmuse]

So I seem to remember promising more Sora: Warrior Of The Sea Beach Episode. And by "seem to remember" I mean, it's in writing and thus hard to ignore. So despite the fact that none of you care, guess what? You're getting more of this ZoLaw AU.

First off, every member of the cast and crew understands the purpose of a beach episode: to waste time at the beach. Which means that everyone pulls up with swim trunks, blankets, grills and umbrellas. They are basically there to have a beach vacation.

I say everyone. Not Law. Law does not come prepared to party, he comes prepared to be pissy. But like everyone else (Yes, even Mihawk. Though technically only due to Shank's influence. Shanks forces him is what I'm saying. "Hey, even Beckmen is joining in the fun!" / "Benn always joins in these ridiculous games." / "What? My Beckmen? No! He's usually so mature and serious." / "He only seems that way compared to you. Because you are a child.")

The resulting shoot is pretty much pure chaos. Perona and Hancock are more interested in sunbathing than acting. Killer is kicking everyone's ass at volleyball. Franky and Ace are having a grill off to see who makes the better hamburgers and hot dogs (Sanji would totally win except that Pudding-Chan is right there and in a bikini and look, at some point it's difficult to care about things that aren't that.) Zoro and Luffy, meanwhile, are pretty much exactly the children you expect them to be, much to Robin's amusement. Look, she wrote a scene where Sora and Daichi "play wrestle" in the sea, but it has nothing on the actual thing. Because Zoro can often be oblivious and because, you know, Luffy she is sure they don't mean for it to look so homoerotic. It's just a shame Nami isn't here to capitalize on this. She could definitely sell Zoro pinning Luffy to the sand or Luffy wrapping around Zoro like he's made of rubber for more than a few quid.

Law is not enjoy this shoot.

Even when Benn finally gains enough control to start getting actual work done (you'd be surprised how authoritative Mihawk can be even in purple swim trunks) it soon becomes clear that this is going to be a longer than normal shoot. Not because the logistics, just people are not even trying. Ace will just start smiling in the middle of a scene where he shouldn't be smiling, and because Zoro really takes his cues on acting from Ace he'll immediately start smiling regardless of the line. Then Sanji will get angry with them both, which Pudding will think is adorable, thus leading to Sanji forgetting the script entirely to pay attention to her. Perona will tell Zoro off and get too close in his face, which will make Luffy jump in to "protect his virtue" (on order from Nami) which will make Boa jealous because how dare another woman be so close to her Luffy. Which will make Ace and Zoro annoyed which will make Robin giggle, which will distract Franky which will ultimately lead to the effects not working like they should, which will cause Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku to huddle up (definitely not them just laying on the sand and enjoying the day out) which of course gets Shanks and Mihawk's attention. Shanks tries to separate Perona and Luffy while Mihawk gives Zoro and Ace The Look which, despite his still authoritative aura is SLIGHTLY less effective when he's standing there in just swim trunks. Curse Shanks. So in the end, with a heavy sigh, he has to go train instruct Zoro in what he should actually be doing in the scene which somehow ends up with his hands at Zoro's bare waist as he goes through it all yet again.

Law HATES this. Fucking. Shoot.

Which is why he is so close to just leaving, as per Robin's suggestion. They don't need him there. Clearly. They can all get along quite well without him. It's obvious now that Law's real job is babysitting and at this particular location all attempts to be an adult are fruitless.

So Law is all set to leave but then Zoro gets out of the ocean, dripping wet, and heads towards his drink which Law happens to be standing beside. Not watching. Definitely. If anything, glaring. And he tries to keep glaring out at Luffy and Ace messing around as Zoro takes a nice long drink, eyes clearly focused on Law.

Which isn't distracting.

Zoro: Aren't you hot?

Law: *Takes a second to process what that actually means, covering by his continued glare* These are work appropriate clothes, Zoro-ya. Not all of us have forgotten why we're here.

Zoro: *Snorts* RIght. You can't be seen having fun, isn't that so Torao?

Law: *Turning his glare towards Zoro which is maybe a mistake because skin and water and mouth and eyes* I'm only being practical.

Zoro: That sounds boring *Reaching out to grab the end of Law's shirt* You should come have fun with us, Torao. You might even enjoy it. *Sideways smirk that is far too dangerous in nature, anyone with self preservation instincts would run*

Law: *Doesn't run* I… *Is older than Zoro and more experienced than Zoro and always the one to make suggestive comments to Zoro so how is it Zoro has currently got his hands wrapped in Law's shirt while Law seems unable to speak?* I didn't even bring-

Zoro: *Stepping closer, raising Law's shirt up a few inches to show his intent* It's just the crew, it's not like anyone will care.

Law: It wouldn't be very appropriate, Zoro-ya…. *Come on! He's half stripping you down! Be flirty or clever or mysterious or hell just step back and make him stop if you can't come off as at least competent. What the hell is wrong with you? Fuck, he's so close. And there's this trail of water falling from his hair to his lips. Fuck.*

Zoro: Look around. No one here is trying to be "appropriate" Torao. *Steps closer, feeling safe. Feeling cocky. Today has been all sword fights with Killer and sea fights with Luffy and Ace. Can you blame him for being in a good mood? And Law needs to join in, obviously. He's standing up here on the beach looking so miserable and serious. What he needs is to be dragged into the water and force to actually have some fun.* Unless…. *Cocks his head, looking Law over* You can swim, can't you?

Law: I - *It'd be nice if he could swallow right now because it definitely feels like he's going to start drooling. That damn water is curving up on the underside of Zoro's lower lip and he's so close. Law could lap that up for him. Could pin Zoro down and just….*

Zoro: *Beaming* It's alright. Luffy can barely swim, either. *Nods out to the water where currently Luffy is splashing around, riding on Ace's shoulders*

Law: *Eyes go to Luffy and Ace for once second and when he looks back Zoro seems so much closer.*

Zoro: *Still smiling even as he starts to peel off Law's shirt* Come on. *Tugging him by the arm, despite the fact he's still in his jeans and no wait he didn't agree to this!* We'll go together.

Law: *Manages to get Zoro to stop long enough to peel off his jeans so he's down to his boxers, which Zoro flushes at and isn't that what he meant? He can't be so inexperienced. Fuck, Law just wants to ruin this boy, he really does. But then Zoro is back to shoving him towards the sea, happily announcing to Ace and Luffy that he has a fourth and what does that even mean? What has Law gotten himself into?*

It turns out to be an overly competitive game of chicken (both Ace and Zoro really take it far too seriously while Luffy is clearly there for fun but also will break Law's nose if it comes down to it). Which means Law has his legs wrapped around Zoro, whose hands are curled up around his thighs and this could not get any worse.

He thinks.

Totally unaware that Robin has her phone out and is capturing this entire magical moment. And when Franky sits beside her asking why she's filming them fighting she just gets this smile that makes him want to unask because he knows Robin.

Mihawk has to eventually call the boys out to shoot a scene. He stands at the edge of the water with his typically displeased look. Law would feel so much more ashamed if Zoro hadn't chosen to just drop him slightly so Law's legs are wrapped around his waist, and carried him out of the water like that. Law tries to give his boss an apologetic look but it's difficult when he's so wrapped around Zoro, and Zoro's hands keep finding new places on his legs to hold him up. (And maybe Mihawk shouldn't look at actors who work for him that way. And maybe Mihawk should spend less time instructing Zoro. And maybe Mihawk can go to hell because Law has called dibs on this one. This one is his.)

(Also, thank you for this opportunity, Mihawk-san)

(Also, did Zoro really need to flash that smile at Mihawk? Did Mihawk's face just soften slightly? Isn't he like twice Zoro's age? He should really-)

Then Zoro drops him on the sand, and he's leaning over Law, practically on top of him. All other thoughts basically stop.

Zoro: *Beaming* See? Wasn't that better than just sitting around?

Law: *Forgets how breathing works for just a moment, and is way too out of breath by the time he recalls the process. So his mind goes into default Defensive Mode. He frowns* You just wanted a chance to beat Mugiwara-ya.

Zoro: Well… *Shrugs, like obviously. That isn't really the point, is it? Since he chose Law?* You did well Torao. For a beginner.

Law: *Crossing his arms across his chest, which is difficult with Zoro right there. Looks to the side, determined not to give a single inch* I don't like being used Zoro-ya.

Zoro: Right. *Frowns, pushing away from Law* It was Luffy's suggestion anyway.

Law: *Carefully glancing back* What was?

Zoro: *No longer looking at Law* To come get you. Tch. Like I would ever want to pair up with you, Torao. *Pushes off the sand, stalking off towards Mihawkk and the shoot*

Law: *Pushes himself up onto his elbows, watching Zoro go. Can't help feeling like he really messed up.*

Robin: Perhaps you should be more careful with our stuntman's feelings.I suggest next time you be more honest with him.

Law: *Doesn't jump at Robin's sudden appearance next to him. Totally.* There won't be a next time. This is a pointless waste of an episode and the studio will see that.

Law: *As an afterthought* And I was honest.

Robin: *Sets a hand on Law's shoulder in a quiet moment of commiseration*

Also Robin: I have it all on tape if you wish to watch it back. *Leaves*

Law: *Hates this fucking episode*

Law: ….. *Maybe wants to examine that tape.*

[lozzypoz321]

The Umbrella Academy

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: I don’t really know what this is, hope you enjoy it though! In celebration for season two!!

Warnings: none that I know of

Being part of the Hargreeves family includes;

•Taking your siblings clothes

“Hey Diego, can I borrow your sweater?” You asked, leaning into your brother's room, making him look over your direction by the door but before he could respond, you thanked him and grabbed the closest jumper that was hung up in the wardrobe.

“Hey!”

Without looking back you started running away from the voice of Diego, you looked over your shoulder while you were still running to make sure he wasn’t following you but unfortunately, you tripped and went flying over Luther's lone shoe that was left on the floor.

Without even opening your eyes you could sense your brother standing near, his frame towering over you.

“Can I keep it?”

•Hanging out in your sibling’s rooms’

“Five,” you started, dragging out the ‘e’ in his name as you sat on the bottom of his bed, “Klaus is being annoying again. Can I stay here for a while?”

He looked up at you, finishing polishing his gun and placing it on a stand that was mounted on the wall. Five raised his eyebrow and shrugged, walked over to the top of his bed. “I’m not surprised. It was Luther and Diego for me”

You leaned over to his side and asked whether he could space-time and get the book from your room. He narrowed his eyes at you, giving a clear answer. He huffed and fell back against the bed making it creak from the impact, without speaking you slid off and quietly tiptoed to your room to retrieve your book because it was boring speaking to a brick wall.

•Playing hide and seek with your siblings

“Five that’s cheating!” Luther yelled at the boy when he tried to space jump into the future making him scowl at the taller brother.

Allison just rolled her eyes and pushed Diego away when he tried to tackle them both before Klaus could start Egyptian dancing around the room Vanya (who was rarely involved in the games) put her hands over her ears and shouted “Stop! I’m gonna start counting soon so you need to hide!”

Without needing to be told twice, everyone scuttled away and in different directions. You tried to stick to number 2’s tail but eventually, you gave up and hid with Ben in one of the closets where spare sheets and pillowcases were stored. About halfway through the game and you could hear that Vanya had found Allison, Ben started quietly doing ridiculous commentary to entertain the both of you.

“And the bird has found its prey, find out after the break whether or not the worm gets viciously eaten in front of its slithery worm family whose entire population is Katherina Klaus!”

You had to stop yourself from laughing too hard and giving your hiding spot to Vanya, Allison and now Luther who had just been found attempting to squeeze himself in a washing machine that Klaus had brought home one day and named ‘Mary the great spinner’.

“How dare you assault Mary like that?!” Klaus shrieked after revealing himself upon hearing where Luther had hid.

“Where’s (Y/N), Five and Diego?”

When Ben heard they’d forgotten him, which he was used to but wasn’t any less annoyed, he yelled out to them “hey! I’m here too!”

As soon as the sentence came out of his mouth, he threw his hands over his face. Obviously not thinking before he did it. In an instant, the door was thrown open and revealed the two of you. Luther and Allison smirked, happy that their plan had worked.

Ben groaned, “you did that on purpose didn’t you?”

After another hour you had managed to find Diego but the six of you still couldn’t find Five and the two competitive brothers were starting to get fed up. You all rounded the corner to the hallway where his bedroom was but suddenly Five appeared out of nowhere and leapt forward making everyone scream. Klaus’ more high pitched than anyone elses.

“You still cheated!”

•Helping them out with hobbies

You loved helping out your siblings and cheering them on when it came to the things they loved. It started out when Luther began writing poems, he kept it a secret for the longest time. Afraid that everyone would make fun of him for it as he was a boy, but he finally opened up his love for writing to you after he found out you enjoyed reading so much and you were never one to make fun of people.

He was nervous at first but ended up coming to you whenever he had an idea or when he had finished anything so you could read it and give him feedback. The more he worked hard in his free time the more you two bonded over his writing: you helped him out on the grammar which you had learnt after reading so many books, bought him a rhyming dictionary for his birthday (basically all of your birthdays, but it was only for him) and let him borrow your writing pens.

He even shared his ideas at dinner when everybody else was eating.

“Hey (Y/N),” he whispered from his spot next to you, making sure nobody else could hear him through the heavy silence and occasional scrapes of knives that your father insisted on having at every meal.

“Huh?” You mumbled back, covering up the sound by clattering your knife on the plate so that only Luther could hear what you’d said.

“I was thinking about doing a poem of Griddys, like what it means to us you know?”

You pondered for a second before briefly glancing up at him, “and what does it mean to us?”

He raised one of his eyebrows and jokingly scoffed, earning the attention of your father looking at the both of you with a strict look plastered upon his face at his spot at the top of the mahogany table where he always sat. “Quiet children!”

So without making a sound, you reached into your pocket and brought out one of the biro pens that you always carry around for emergencies and you started writing on the back of your arm. It may not have been sanitary, but it worked.

‘What does it mean?’

He quietly grabbed the pen and began creating a sentence on his own arm, a bit too forceful. ‘Like, a place where we can escape, you know? Or is that too cheesy?’

You fought back a smile so no one would get suspicious, and gave him a subtle thumbs up under the table to show that it was okay.

Luther loved writing poems and you were always there to help him.

•Having sleepovers

“Oh (Y/N)” Klaus sang, and glided into your room with a top hat upon his head “it’s time for our sleepy sleepover!”

He chose the name and you didn’t have anything to say against it. Once a month you and him liked to have a ‘sleepy sleepover’ where the two of you had the time of your lives from 12pm to 3am while dancing, singing and doing dares.

“Okay, I’ll grab the snacks Klaus,” you said and slipped off your bed to go retrieve the gummy worms and prawn cocktail crisps that you two had managed to sneak from a convenience store one night.

After you had got them you tiptoed back upstairs, as not to wake up your mom, father or siblings. Once you got to the door of your room you walked in only to find Klaus laying on the ground with a cowboy hat on his head, you had no idea where he had found it. “Let’s do line dancing!” He yelled and hopped up, excitement filling his body at the thought of his favourite dancing style.

“Okay…”

•Sneaking out

“(Y/N)! Shhh,” Luther hissed at you when you accidentally stepped on Allison’s foot causing her to nearly yelp in pain “right here’s what we’re gonna d-“ before he could finish his sentence Diego interrupted him in a whisper “why do you get to decide everything?”

“Because” he started, emphasising the word “I’m the oldest in case you’ve forgotten, I get to decide the rules”

Just then Vanya decided to speak up “actually, you’re not the oldest, you’ve just got the smallest number, we’re all the same age” her tone was nervous as if she was scared to go against him, but they just ignored her.

“I should be in charge I’m the most responsibl-“

“No! I’m older, I should-“

“That’s not fair though! I’m-“

“Will you two cut it out!” Five hissed, moving himself between the two quarrelling brothers “I’m tired of you acting like two-year-olds. Don’t make me stab you with a shovel”

His threat seemed to reach them as they both shut their mouths and waited for Ben to peacefully tie his shoes.

“Okay are we ready?” Allison asked everyone once number 6’s trainers were successfully tied in bows, she received an abundance of yes’s in return making her grin “great!”

“We should probably be quiet now!” Klaus exclaimed loudly making Diego and Five punch him in the shoulder either side.

“Right okay, we should go now” you whispered and tried to break apart the fight that had now merged from Diego and Klaus to Diego and Luther to no ones surprise.

“Children,” a happy voice suddenly sounded from the hallway making you all twist around in surprise, guilt washing over all eight of your faces as you caught sight of your mother standing there with a dusting stick in her hand “you should be getting to bed now, you have a long day tomorrow”

“...yes mother”

@marvel-ous-hobbit @snarky--starky @rae-is-typing @stargazingfangirl18 @canadianhufflepuffavenger