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tellnxlies · 2 years ago

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There are a number of oddities to be found when it comes to Naomasa’s biology, as a result of his ancestor’s blood still running strong within him.

One of the most “signature” things about this man is his dedication to truth above all else. Unlike what most would infer, it is not actually a deliberate choice that he has made. Rather, it’s a direct consequence of Aimaina’s actions that have rendered her bloodline with this set of abilities. By her end, she was a wicked, deceitful woman. She would take on a false appearance and lure unsuspecting humans in with her words. Make false promises and whisper only the most tempting of things, so that they may fall for the bait, and disappear into the waters below.

Mesprit didn’t want to, really, but its hand had been forced. It could no longer count on its guardian to do her job, and more-so, it could not allow her to cause so much harm. A curse, then, laid upon the family forever after. They’d so abused their ability to lie, that they had to be stripped of it. Forced to know when anyone else did, so that they may know just what it is they are missing, and how it feels to be constantly deceived over the most slightest of details.

A trauma response, perhaps. But even that explanation holds little water, considering he’s had this condition for as long as he can remember.

The eyes that Aimaina managed to pass down were not truly her own, and as such, they are a peculiarity that rears itself time and time again in each subsequent generation. Utterly inhuman, even if they do not appear to be so at first glance. A beautiful grey, though one that appears different each time you are looking at him. They shift and change as if there are storm clouds brewing within them; perhaps a light, rejuvenating rain or the full wrath of a titan, dark as the night and just as foreboding.

There are flecks every now and again of something more, a blink and you’ll miss it shade of purple in his angriest moments. It’s not often seen, both for its fleetingness, and for the rarity in Naomasa allowing himself to feel so much.

Tricks of the light. Don’t be ridiculous.

He struggles to keep a tight leash on his emotions, but it is so natural for him to feel so strongly. To feel everything all at once, just as his mother, and her mother before her...so on and so forth. It comes to them as easily as breathing, and can be volatile in its intensity, for both the good and the bad.

How does he keep this all under lock and key, and why does his chest feel like it’ll explode if he continues to try?

He can see the auras of the people around him, and keeps this just as much hushed as the lie-detecting, if not even more-so. The abilities complement each other well, and it is often someone’s very aura that gives them away as to what their intentions truly are. And just as his ancestor, he finds it difficult at times to stand the presence of those with a dark one, physically ill as if they are poisoning him by their mere existence. Unable to quiet the voice in his head that screams with a renewed fury to leave, get himself far, far away from that beast of a man...and why, why does it speak with the soothing tone of a woman?

Why does this warning feel so familiar?

This bloodline has long been a friend to the fairy-types. Out of respect, they do not tend to own the creatures themselves...come to think of it, they don’t tend to own much in the way of Pokémon at all. Naomasa himself only has two, and they were both by gift of his father. Still, he finds himself drawn to that particular type, and though he’s dismissed it since as the imagination of a child run amok...he swears that they used to speak to him. Interesting, then, that the fairies were the ones he could say did more than any other. Even for their relative obscurity within the Sinnoh region.

What a silly game. Why had he ever begun to play it?

Naomasa has always had a tolerance for pain, and never thought all too much on it. He’s even retained an ability for remaining calm in the most drastic of scenarios, though this of course has its limits. But what he has yet to catch on to is that his blood has a bit of a numbing effect, both physically and emotionally speaking. A natural analgesic, as it were, with its own pros and cons...for as much as it’s nice not to hurt, that also serves as a warning about the presence and severity of a wound. And while remaining calm also can allow him to think calmly and rationally through whatever trouble he’s fallen into, it can just as easily cause him to fail to see the reality of his danger until it has escalated further.

Adrenaline, huh...such a marvelous thing. At least that’s what he’d keep telling himself.

#✧ ; ˡᵃʷ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰ�� ˡᵃᶰᵈ (.headcanon)#v ; ᵗᶤᵐ�� ʰᵉʳᵉ ᶤˢ ˢᵒ ᶠˡᵉᵉᵗᶤᶰᵍ (.cold case detective)

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somanyerikas · 3 years ago

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Nostalgia sells - or does it? About BBC’s rehiring of a previous showrunner for Doctor Who as a marketing strategy

All, right, this is the one where I deal with my issues about RTD’s rehiring from the standpoint of BBC’s business strategy . Brace for passive agression, swearwords, brief history of british television and numbers. So, so many numbers.

Allright, so I already wrote a post about my problem with RTD’s (re)hire from the creative standpoint (it’s here in case you’re interested), but hey, I can bitch about it all I want, but we all know what caused the BBC to make this decision, right? You’ve heard about it for sure. The Dropping Ratings. You’ve read about it on so many posts, lots of them probably oh-so-gladly conflating this fact with their own opinion about the deteriorating quality of the show. (Don’t worry, we’ll get to that.) So Obviously the execs at the Big BBC Quarters needed to do something about it, and what better way to go than rehire a guy who’s run at Doctor Who is a warm childhood memory for so many in it’s fanbase? After all, it’s what we’re seeing nowadays: from Star Wars return to wave of 80′s nostalgia to every old blockbuster star doing a comeback, there is but a single conclusion - nostalgia sells.

Or does it?

Part One: Moving with the change; or very much refusing to.

Let’s start this off with some facts about the ratings for Doctor Who. (Well, I warned you there’s gonna be numbers, didn’t I. Stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this I promise.) In it’s beginnings, in the sixties and seventies , the series flown high, averaging a viewership from 8 up to 10 million viewers per season. Collin Baker’s series 17 brought in a record of 11.21 milion viewer asses in front of a good ol’ TV screen, real champagne opener here. But, as it happens, things were downhill from here. During the eighties, the rating started dropping steadily, reaching an all-time low of 4.15 milion couch-warming bottoms in 1989, the last season of the classic era.

Years passed, 16 of those years to be exact, and here comes our saviour RTD. Under his wings, the revived series premiered, bringing in over 10 milion viewers to the premiere episode of season 1, Rose. A viewership this high did not last for long, but still, RTD’s seasons averaged between 7 and 8 milion viewers per season, which seemed pretty respectable. But then, as the story likes to repeat itself, not unlike the bbc execs just did, along came the decline again. Ever since 2010, the ratings began steadily dropping again, from 7.95 in 2010 to 5.46 in 2017. Then DW experienced an unexpected peak in 2018 with the premiere of Jodie Whittaker’s first season, which averaged 7.96 viewing asses, but then continued the dropping trend on the next season, averaging 5.40 viewing butts.

So what went wrong?

You see, part of the reason that Doctor Who was bringing in such great viewership numbers in the 60′s and 70′s, was that, to put it simply, BBC did not have much competition. Or, to be exact, only had one competitor. ITV was literally founded in order to break BBC’s monopoly over British television. But in the 80′s, with the launch of Channel 4 and Sky, the british viewers had more and more options to choose from. So logically speaking, they no longer had to watch BBC’s programming just because there was nothing else on. There was more and more new programes to boredom-watch. And here’s something y’all need to know about the tv industry: the boredom-watchers, the casuals? That’s the most important demographic. As hard as it might be to swallow, us hardcore fans, forum dwellers and Ao3 gremlins, we’re not as big of a group as we’d like to think. Loving fans are important to the tv execs as providers of word-of-mouth advertisment, but the real numbers come from the casual, everyday viewer who will just put on the next episode cause the other one was kinda fun I guess. Or more fun than the other options, anyway.

And this is why, by the way, when someone is conflating low viewership with the show Dissapointing The Fans, they’re full of shit. I’m sorry, but we’re really not that much of a force here, definitely not enough to make such a big impact on the numbers. Another factor, that some of you probably noticed already, is that the numbers I’m quoting are from british tv only, while the online fandom is very much international, so our opinions matter even less to the british execs, I’m sorry again, hard pill to swallow I know, but true nonetheless.

But I digress. So, to sum up the previous paragraph, Doctor Who’s viewership decline in the 80′s was the effect of the changing landscape of the TV industry, with which the BBC struggled to come to terms with.

Sound familiar?

Let’s move on to the 2010′s, shall we?

2010 was is actually a good marker of a year to choose, because it marks one important thing that begun a big change in the industry. This was the year in which Netflix expanded their services overseas, from being a DVD rental company to providing VOD services. Over the next decade streaming services grew in importance, from being an add-on to your cable TV that you didn’t really want but they were throwing it in for cheap, to very much self-sustainable media services you might very well buy instead of buying the cable. And if you look at the numbers for Doctor Who viewership declining over the last 10 years, that’s precisely what’s been happening. It’s not that people don’t want to watch Doctor Who on tv, they don’t want to watch tv in general. Do you know what was the most popular channel in Britain this year? Can you guess? Fucking Netflix that’s what. It’s just slowly-yet-steadily ceasing to be the way we use home entertainment anymore. Again, not much to do with the audience approval, because for that matter, let’s see about the specific episodes that saw the spikes in viewership.

Rose, which i mentioned at the start of it, was for the longest time the unquestionable queen when it comes to viewership, at 10.81 milion. The next episode, The End of the World, pulled in 7.97 - almost 3 millions worth of lost viewer-butts in one week? Is it because it was so much worse than it’s predecessor? No, it simply did not have the smell of Newness, the Event You Must See, and as such brought forth less of the casual viewers who were simply curious about The New Thing. The next season followed the similar formula, peaking at the premiere, when the marketing was at it’s strongest, going down during the season, sometimes rising slightly for the finale, sometimes not. The most popular episodes are, of course, the specials - yet again, the vibe of The Event To Be Seen worked here, but one more thing working to their advantage is they often aired in spaces between seasons, serving as both a long-waited Crumbs of Content for the fans, and the basically stand-alones for the casuals. Do you know what the single most watched episode of revived DW is? No, it’s not Tennant’s goodbye with the role (yeah I know, I thought it had to be that as well). It was Voyage of the Damned, between seasons 3 and 4. The perfect standalone for the casual watcher. And last but not least, you know one more special feature that brought, maybe not as much, but definitely more than expected? The 1996 movie Doctor Who, with 9.08 million. Again, a perfect standalone.

But the standalones aren’t the only way to grab the viewership. The currently-highest viewing non-special episode of DW? The Woman Who Fell to Earth, Jodie Whittaker’s introduction. In 2018 no less, in the year when the streaming was the ruler supreme, this episode brought a whooping 10.96 million buts to the good ol’ TV again. Let me reiterate: this episode brought in more viewers than Rose did in 2005, while having WAY more competition and way less favorable circumstances of release that RTD’s debiut did. Not only that, it managed to bring on some numbers for the entire season as well, not as good of course as the premiere (because again, the Event vibes faded), but still brought a better average than the last six seasons did. (Again, let me reiterate: more than the last SIX seasons. More viewership than any series since 2010, since the Streaming Wars.) So clearly, this must be the way, right? Catering to this Weird New Trend, that saw directors notice there do in fact exist other actors than white men, that surely brought in some profit, even Marvel does it now, right? Out with the old, in with the new!

Part 2 The Deceitful Charm of Nostalgia

Well, it turns out the whole Doing New Things deal didn’t work out that well after all, now did it? The second season penned by Chibbnal averaged 5.40 milion, that’s 2.5 million drop from the previous one! It must mean it didn’t work, right? Well, yes and no. As much as the refreshment of the formula as simple as Let’s Put A Woman In It absolutely worked for one season, it very visibly did not hold up for longer. An Event-Episode is something that can still happen on TV, Event-Series? That’s pretty much reserved for streaming now, if you think about it, and it’s honestly kind of a miracle that Series 11 did as well as it had. Two consecutive Event-Series on network tv? Flat out impossible.

So how to make those ratings great again? How to get those butts in seats of the Good Ol’? Well, the execs of the BBC have a plan for that. They brought in a devouring beast, and it’s name is: Nostalgia.

Without a doubt, there is a number of people who feel nostalgic about RTD’s era of Doctor Who. It’s a lot of people’s fond childhood memory, or the series they started with, and judging by the numbers, there should be quite a lot of them. So the new plan, as it appears, is to get to those who maybe lost interest in the show and lure them with the promise of the thing That Is Totally Like The Thing You Used To Love, Remember? (This is why I don’t actually think that RTD will be allowed to do anything new and interesting, that’s not what they hired him for. And that’s why I think this is bad from the creative standpoint.) So there are two questions here: One, will the people be lured? And two, for how long?

Nostalgia as a marketing strategy is something that you’re probably sick of seeing already (I know I am). But it has very much been effective on many levels, especially the eighties-baiting, Stranger Things style, can bring a new IP up to relevance. But what about old IP’s that want to have a comeback?

It’s kind of dificult to find another TV show that I could compare to Doctor Who. Most series that have been running for that long are mostly soap operas, that operate on slightly different rules, and are also targeted to a different audience. So as much as the movie series is still not exactly the best comparison, when I think about a big IP, campy sci-fi, family-oriented (at least in theory) on its path back to relevance, I think about Star Wars, obviously. The Force Awakens gambled on that nostalgic feeling and won big, but the next two movies, while still financially successful, were nowhere near the astounding success of the first one. And that’s because - you guessed it - it created the Event You Must See again, The Great Comeback, but merely two years later, the comeback became old news. So what we can gain from that is that nostalgia can create an Event as well as a new trend, if not better. But the question remains: how long will that last?

That is, after all, the main difference between a movie franchise and a TV series in the traditional, network TV sense of the word: movie franchise must bring in the viewership every year or two, and TV series must bring in viewers every week for at least two months. Is RTD’s Nostalgia Vibes enough to provide for that?

I’ll say this: I’m absolutely certain that the 60th anniversary will be very popular. I still don’t think it will break any records because, as I’ve been trying to explain for this whole post, it is not 2007 anymore no matter how much the tv execs would like it to be. But ironically, the almost-certain success of the special is the very thing that could undermine the effect of bringing their precious Nostagia Boi back onboard. Remember, the first Event Episode is The Big Oof. That’s the one that gets asses to the Good Ol’, if anything ever does. After the first big event one, that’s the point when things start going down. They’re wasting their Special Event Boi for something that already would be an event, dear fucking gods, I hate your plan and I would still execute it better. Either have RTD be the Anniversary Guy and then hire someone new, use that hype and keep it going, OR have RTD come in after the anniversary, then at least you get the Event Effect for the premiere of his first return season. Fukin’ amateurs.

But even if they did that, here’s the thing: do you think that the people who departed from the show years ago actually want to watch another three to five seasons of The RTD Show? I mean, I’m sure the thought warmed some hearts, for sure. A number of people will definitely gladly watch the anniversary, probably the first few episodes of the first return to the basics, but after that? In the world when, due to streaming, they have an easy way to revisit the actual thing they’re nostalgic towards? I honestly don’t think so. And you’re not really gonna get many new people by going back, if that nostalgia factor isn’t there. And then there’s casual viewers, the backbone, as we established. And here’s the thing: lots of those people don’t even know who the current showrunner is, cause they’re not Terminally Online like we are, and the second thing? Lots of those people ARE JUST NOT WATCHING NETWORK TV, IM SORRY GARRY. They’re just. They’re just not. I don’t know how to spell it out better. Even my mum has netflix now. Your biggest base is in another castle mate, gotta get moving and gotta get moving quick, cause here’s another thing: all the nostalgia in the world will not do SHIT for you if your target, people who were kids/teens when the RTD era was airing, PROBABLY DON’T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING TV ANYMORE CAUSE THEY MOVED OUT OF THEIR PARENTS FLAT AND LOTS OF YOUNG PEOPLE JUST DON’T BOTHER. Just. I’m sorry but you’re trying to resuscitate a decade-deceased corpse there buddy. It just won’t work. The times have changed and you gotta swim or drown, and it’s just not gonna be 2005 again, no matter how hard you pretend it is. It’s not your content it’s your business model. Just push more marketing for your iplayer or whatever, focus on streaming as your primary not your secondary cause that’s just what it is now, and maybe don’t rely on the viewer-counting systems of the yesteryear to evaluate your business. Or else you’re gonna get stuck sacrificing the creative growth of your show for a marketing strategy that probably won’t even fucking WORK.

There, I got it of my chest. Feel free to reblog, and also: you somehow got to the end of this, congrats! I’ll make numbers nerds out of y’all yet.

#it's like. my sister and I were #watching a movie lately. the one with multiple will smiths and the de-aging tech #(don't recommend it it's real boring)#but when Youngened Will Smith appeared on the screen my sister got my spiting my tea laughing by innocently saying:#"oh i don't know this actor. it's nice that they're giving opportunities to the young actors. great to see a new face in the biz''#and u know what #this rehire is the same fucking vibe to me #some cunts from marketing plastering make-up to an old man's face and pretending its 2005 still #anyway #doctor who #i guess.

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emomeishibot · 4 years ago

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I warn you about me

I ship sebaciel,

and before you call me pedo,

I simply enjoy the relationship of human dancing on the tip of blade with demon without failing as the supposedly weak delicious prey.

It just so happens that the human is a boy with anime eyes, waifu legs and Hamlet fate, very bad attitude, inner fear of being eaten, lifelong trauma, yet managed to make me feel sympathetic no matter how many people he kills

the demon is a fucking weird one, who is particularly picky and fussy about having a proper meal, and getting things done his “aesthetic” way, in disguise as a superhuman servant who has to be sarcastic about his identity with clever puns every minute, throw cutlery as weapon, wtf, and love cats, above all

alright, these are kuro aesthetics that I like to look at and make art with

but they neither will have, nor enjoy sex in my mind, because I just do not care for smut, at all, I don’t give a fuck if they share beds or not, these are paper demon and paper human boy, I can be certain no single living soul (other than o!ciel’s paper living soul, I’d say having Sebastian at his side is literally a constant living hell) is directly hurt in the process of people shipping them, FYI

and sebaciel is not canon if you ask me, they are canon just in the sense that they are an inseparable pair bound with contract, a tie that no one else in the work could share with each of them.

Yana made them a weirdly cute pair, not in any good ways but only as they share intimacy in dreadful secrets, scandalous lies, ultimate cruelty and inhuman indifference, sugar coating this food/eater relationship with beauty, vulnerability, melancholy and dignity, mostly of the human, and a bit under the disturbingly pretty disguise of the hunger beast. The master and servant do not exist without each other, and they will stay so. They are both enjoying the rest of the contract, on their runway to hell, and I like the false impressions of “the caring butler being loyal loyal” and “the poor master being lovable and needy” impress some and let some grow sympathetic and loving for them damned characters. I only love how utterly deceitful the relationship of these two are.

basically is that I enjoy a guy holding precious his way of cooking, and a prey with a strong will knowing it won’t end well but still work with the predator to achieve its goal.

now if you accuse me of having disgusting interest in real life children I’d be very impolite.

real life children will shit in toilet while paper children won’t

guess which one I prefer

and to people who went to yana’s post accusing her of serving pedo content without seeing what Sebastian and Ciel really are, I am speechless

#no offense to anyone #kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebaciel #I ship my way #you don't have to agree with me

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diyunho · 4 years ago

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The Joker x Reader - The Delta Paradox. Chapter 1: Deceit

Rumor is the outbreak spreading like fire around the world is somehow Dr. Morbius’ fault: people turned into monsters after getting bitten by the ones already ravaged beyond the irreversible mutation. The last news broadcasted four months ago suggested not all creatures are mindless beasts, a few might still remember who they are and The Joker is about to find out if the story is true.

“Dad…” you whisper and point at the box on the shelves. “I found some peas.”

The Joker turns around and silently walks your way, signaling you to fill up your backpack while he patiently waits for his turn.

The King of Gotham and his 23 year old daughter are scavenging the convenience store on Halsey Street for supplies: food was running low and they had to come out of the bunker in order to acquire basic necessities.

It’s hard to see in the darkness with the tiniest flashlight since they can’t risk being detected.

“Did you find water?” you mumble under your breath.

“No.”

“Dammit, we only have six bottles left,” you sigh, upset at his disclosure. “Should we raid the mall too?”

The Joker covers your mouth, carefully listening.

You can’t discern much until an unnerving screech echoes in the air followed by others in the next second.

“Ssstttt,” J removes the restrain and you clutch to his arm, scared to death.

“Dad…”, you gulp at the commotion happening in the distance: the creatures are probably hunting and you are not willing to become the prey.

“What do we do?” you barely utter and The Clown shakes his head, worried.

“Let’s use the sewers entrance by the dumpster to make it passed the dangerous radius; it’s still open from last time we were here.”

“Ok…” Y/N quietly agrees.

J adds the rest of the containers to his rucksack and lifts it up when he accidentally knocks off a light bulb: the fragile glass shatters to pieces and the two of you stare at each other terrified for a few moments.

The turmoil outside immediately intensifies as The Joker urges:

“Run!”

The panicked Y/N follows her father and she can’t even hear what he’s saying over the deafening roars that seem to come from above the building. Suddenly, the mad man turns and gives you a violent push against the loading dock exit; it’s so unexpected you stumble and before you have the possibility to process what’s going on, J locks it.

“Dad?!” your eyes pop at the small, broken window just to distinguish him backing away. “Dad?!” you start crying. “What are you doing?! Let me in!” The Princess pleads with her parent.

The Joker bites his lip, conflicted at his desire to survive no matter the cost: even if the price to pay is his own daughter.

“Daddy?!” Y/N sobs, petrified at his behavior. “Please?...”

“Better you than me,” he grumbles and runs in the opposite direction, covering his ears when your screams reach him. J rushes out of the shop and drops in the sewer, three monsters already on his trail attempting to grab him; yet they fail because thankfully these beasts are so much larger than the humans they used to be: they can’t fit through the narrow gap The Joker used.

Your father keeps navigating the convoluted catacombs in the darkness while the dim flashlight fails to warn him of the obstacle floating in front of him. He staggers on the dead dog and plunges in the disgusting waters, instantly resurfacing after the initial shock of how bad it stinks. J crawls to near the concrete wall, panting up a storm succeeding the whole ordeal and it hits him: Y/N didn’t pursue.

How could she? The Clown sacrificed his daughter in order to save himself and her agony still resonate in his mind. She was brutally ambushed without any chance of escaping her fate: The Joker made sure of that when he forced her out of the mini-market.

The same daughter that came back for him at the Penthouse when it was clear things are going downhill - no other gang member ever returned; the same daughter that accompanied him in their perilous searching trips as it all went to shit; the same daughter that took care of him when he got sick in the bunker and risked her life in order to bring her father antibiotics; the same daughter that was the only family he had left on this God forsaken planet.

And now she’s gone.

The Joker is all alone like he was always meant to be: nothing can withstand his poison.

**************

8 Months Later

The King of Gotham sneaks in the blackness with precious cargo: tonight was a lucky one. He found soda, crackers and peanuts at a vending machine inside the mall. The road to the bunker is not a short one and he has to be alert; food is scarce and each time he has to venture further and further to find needed items which is why he’s still roaming at this late hour.

Surprisingly calm atmosphere in this neighborhood; J saw a lot of creatures on McCormick Avenue and then an infested Main Boulevard made him backtrack and take this path. It was the correct call because his progress has been steady: moving in shadows has developed into a skillful talent.

He abruptly stops noticing movement blocking his route West of 5th Street. The Joker had no idea it’s swarming with the infected also.

J barely notices something splattering at his feet and freezes: it’s difficult to discern what it is but he has a vague concept. He looks up only to see one of the winged scouts landing on the broken light pole whilst drooling and sniffing the air. The Joker’s body is stiff, his senses sharpened to the maximum: what is he supposed to do? Try to leave? That’s an enormous risk and motion could unleash a chain reaction among the beasts if the one above identifies the helpless individual. Stay? The threat would be equally menacing.

The high pitch snarl belched by the demon’s throat makes him inhale in fear: was he spotted? Or is this merely a power display from the crazed predator?

The Joker feels there’s something behind him and before he can act a sharp pain in his forearm makes him yell. Another bite in his leg makes him lose balance and he collapses to the ground, unable to defend himself from the hoard. The burning sensation is taking over completely: the creatures tear his flesh apart and he passes out without having the strength to shout for help anymore.

*************

The Clown opens his eyes and rapidly blinks since the sunlight is hard to endure.

“Ugh…” he groans and rolls on his side on the concrete pavement.

Everything hurts, including the brain: it’s as if someone drilled holes and he can’t concentrate or form thoughts.

He aims to lift his torso off the walkway unsure why it’s strenuous to accomplish such a simple task; J doesn’t register the reason why is the different anatomy he now has: scaly, gray skin, long, distorted arms with sharp claws, inverted knees and membranous toes. The wings certainly don’t add to his ability to sport the same agility he was blessed with while still a person.

He finally manages to gather himself up, surprised to experience an odd sensation: The Joker is so much taller after his mutation and everything crushes down once the hideous reflection shown in the partially broken glass belonging to “Macy’s” department store glares back at him.

“Ahhh!” J blurs out alongside an uncanny roar emerging from his transmuted vocal cords. The frantic sound gets the attention of beasts in his vicinity, then they ignore him because he’s one of them.

“Fuck…” he mumbles in disbelief at their reaction, grateful they didn’t attack.

The Joker’s raspy breath scores big with a creature nearby though.

Apparently a female due to her red orbs, she’s approaching the former human with a certain restrain.

The Joker would love to bail: unless he can control the horror of what’s happening to him in a few moments, he might get out of there in one piece.

The curious monster is inches away and J had nothing better to do than articulate:

“… Do you… understand me?”

“Grrrrrrr…” the female sneers, unraveling her fangs.

“Y/N… is that…is that you?” The Joker tosses the question out there for the lack of a better plan.

No answer, just a low howl that makes a few males digging in rubble unhappy: why is the group’s favorite displaying interest in the newcomer?

They shriek and emerge more and more agitated, drawing the attention of others in the proximity. The displeased attitude seems to elevate the mood in a negative direction to the point of having a large flock landing on the same street too.

“Crap…” The Joker assesses his situation and it’s not good. “Shoo!” he gently gives the female a nudge and she coos as her distorted fingers touch his grotesque face. Nevertheless, her gesture unlocks the gates of hell: the female’s keen dart towards the unfortunate Clown with the sole purpose of finishing him off. Competition is not tolerated from a rookie and that’s how The Joker is perceived by the mindless crowd--a threat to the hierarchy.

A loud, eerie scream covering all others makes the murderous bunch halt in their tracks: a humongous female leading the group that arrived moments ago is making them retreat. She keeps shoving them and growling while followed by a huge specimen: definitely The Alpha Male with his yellow eyes and dominant figure that don’t allow disobedience.

The party showing The Joker affection gives up on her advances as you stand in front of your father, not necessarily excited about the encounter.

“Dad?...” you smell the air out of habit.

“… … Y… Y/N?... …” The Joker stammers at the inexplicable revelation. “You… You’re alive??!!”

“If you consider this being alive.”

“Delta, we have to go soon!” one of your fighters announces. “They might snap again!”

Your parent is baffled and you bother to enlighten him a bit:

“I’m part of a coven made of turned humans still self-aware. You’re lucky we flew by and saw you. I felt you were born but I didn’t know it was you until I sniffed you. I wished I knew so I won’t waste my time!!!!” the bitter statement brings to life past memories. “Let’s go!” you raise your voice.

“We’re not taking him with us?!” The Alpha Male inquires, baffled. “He’s self -aware!”

“Trust me, we don’t need someone like him amidst us!” you spread your wings and prepare to fly.

“Y/N… “ The Joker gulps. “Can I come?... Please?... I don’t want to die here.”

Y/N ignores his plea and angrily replies:

“Better you than me!”

How can he justify his behavior in these circumstances? It’s impossible to request forgiveness when you’re at an obvious loss regarding your daughter.

“I’m sorry I did what I did, ok… Pumpkin?”

“I am NOT your Pumpkin!! I am Delta!!!” Y/N mutters.

“Huh?” the clueless King inquires and your obvious disapproval suggests you hate where the conversation is headed.

“Delta is more valuable than any of us and we must protect her at all costs until we find Morbius,” one of your companions gives away details you don’t care your father knowing about. “She can do incredible…”

“Enough!!” you cut him off. “We’re leaving!”

“What… what things?...” The Joker attempts to distract you from the imminent departure.

“None of your business!” you float in the air, the other 40 sets of wings following you while he is left behind with the horde that made him an outcast: brainless monsters already clustering around once more in order to punish his transgression.

“Hey!!!” The Alpha Male glides on top of The Joker. “Delta said you can come!”

“Really?” hope flourishes in his heart.

“Hurry up before they shred you to pieces!”

“I don’t know how to fly!” J shouts.

“Don’t be an idiot! Move your shoulder blades!”

Your father would normally go ballistic at such affront but he actually ignores the disrespectful sentence due to the insane events leading to today’s reunion.

What other choice does he have besides taking advantage of this unique opportunity?

The Joker clumsily bumps into a trash bin and finally ascends towards the blue skies trying to keep up with the flock.

His daughter might be a mystery now but one thing is undeniable: he would rather suffer a thousand deaths before abandoning her again.

Also read: Masterlist

https://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #morbiusxreader #morbius fanfiction #morbius imagine #jokerleto #the joker suicide squad #the joker jared leto #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #joker #mister j #dc #dcu

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theaurorfileshq · 5 years ago

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C A S S A N D R A A S T O R - R E Y E S / A U R O R S E R G E A N T

AGE: Thirty

BADGE NUMBER: S01B24

BLOODSTATUS: Pureblood

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Woman, She/Her

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: Eyebrow scar, walks with a slight limp and aided by a cane.

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

(+): Excels in Defence Against The Dark Arts/Uncomfortable knowledge of the Dark Arts in general, can resist the imperious curse, strong moral compass and a heart of gold.

(-): A tendency to hold back from using destructive spells even if doing so puts her at risk, legitimately desperate for approval from authority figures, inability to produce a patronus.

BACKGROUND:

–– In her younger years she feels like a shadow incarnate. A ghostly slip of a thing in a family of ghoulish, graceful monsters. Cassandra is the youngest of four, and the only girl in the family. There is not a day that goes by where she doesn’t know her place. The Astor-Reyes family are traditionalists to the core. Her mother teaches her the rules with a deceitful gentleness. Little girls should be seen and not heard. Little girls should stay out of the way. Little girls need to do whatever their father and brothers tell them. Even when she was small, she knew the foolishness of it. Cassandra was far too hungry a thing to sit still and pretty while her brothers worked. Like all shadows, she longed to come into the light and swallow it whole.

–– She proves herself a prodigy from a young age. Her magic comes out early, unbound and unrestrained. It’s clear to all that little Cassandra is a power-house. A forest fire in a pretty dress, a scorching blaze with very polite table manners. In the early days, before she learns how to focus herself, her magic almost sparks and crackles with its fury. She still remembers the day her father leans down to kiss her forehead and whispers “you’re going to burn the world down, aren’t you, Cass?”

–– Despite it all, she still feels like a shadow. Her power, her raw talent, only get her so far in her father’s eyes. She is allowed to study from his books, secret and forbidden to so many others. He practices spells on her so that she will build a natural defence, so that she will know how to protect herself with magic and muscle memory. When she takes any real interest in his work, she is shut down. Business isn’t for little girls. When she tries to engage with her brothers on an equal playing field, she is pushed away. Experimental magic isn’t for little girls. They look at her with sharp eyes, predators in the making. They’re how Cassandra knows what monsters look like, she’ll reflect, a decade later.

–– Her grandfather never leaves the house. He is a reclusive soul, she thinks, with an edge of longing. Oh, how she would love to stay at home forever with books for company. He has an edge in his eyes, and he stares out the window for long hours at a time. Cassandra is his favourite, she knows, in the way children often do. He is more gentle with her than the others, he humours her more than anyone else, and drives her brothers away when they bother her or tease her. She asks him why he never ventures outside the gates of their garden, and he tells her that he is a trapped soul. He says it like a story, fairy tale slow and full of wonder. He has an enemy, you see. An enemy who outwitted him and bested him in battle. An enemy who feared his power. So her grandfather had to barter away magic and some small level of freedom in exchange for the chance to stay with his family. It seems awfully noble and romantic to Cassandra, but she won’t know for many years the extent of his thwarted dark deeds.

–– She didn’t realise that her family was strange until a couple of years into her schooling. She joins the Horned Serpent house without a second thought, and struggles to make friends even among her like-minded compatriots. People seemed to shy away from her at every turn, so she closed herself off in return. She focused on her books, and her grades, and the polite small talk she could make with those who knew her from before school began. Other noble, honoured pureblood families. She hears it whispered one day, after a talented display of hexes in her Defence class, far more advanced than anything the others could produce. ‘I bet she’s evil, like the rest of them.’

–– The Astor-Reyes family has a bad reputation, and she was foolish not to see it sooner. She didn’t realise she was wrong, to know the things she did. She didn’t realise she shouldn’t have studied the darkest of arts from an early age. She didn’t realise it was wrong to gaze into the abyss, and wish it would touch you in return. They all saw it as a thing that hurt. They didn’t know that the knowledge could be a powerful and rewarding thing. They didn’t know that it could be as gentle as a father’s kiss. It had never hurt her, she’d never seen it damage anything, not really.

–– At seventeen, she has the aura of a wispy, flighty thing. Delicate, darkly beautiful. Her family had a bad reputation, but all she’d been able to do was go with it. After school, she begs her father to let her help him in the family business. She understands now what he does, and that it isn’t strictly speaking legal. Yet she wants to help, regardless. He’s just a businessman. He gets things that people wants. He sells them. Trinkets and artefacts and treasures. It’s just stuff, she thinks, in her still teenaged brain. What are people going to do? Hurt themselves with it? Though she’s older, and undeniably the brightest of his children, he tells her no. She should be focusing on marriage, like a good little girl. She should find a husband and carry on the family line, in one way or another. For the next three years she entertains the ideas, entertains suitors and boyfriends and girlfriends. She has not great longing to be a wife to any of them, and shakes them off as best she can.

–– It’s a strange thing, to be willingly blind. To believe that you have honour when you know, deep in your heart, that something is very wrong. She gets the impression that her family is spiralling around a drain, that something too dark and too dangerous is creeping in. Her eldest brother is a dark shade of the man she used to know, frantic and cloying and obsessive to an extreme extent. He inherits control of everything, in the end, when her father is arrested for his crimes and locked away. She watches the auror squad come and take both Andre and him. Brother and father gone, a dwindling family left behind. She answers questions and feels the heavy judgement of their gazes. Micheal Astor-Reyes becomes the head of their family in a deft blow, and though he only lasts a matter of weeks in the role, she wishes it had been over quicker. Her brother is a cruel man, a foul beast. Experimental and half-crazed like a character in a no-maj novel, Frankenstein the doctor, or Frankenstein the monster –– one and the same, wrapped up in the visage of a man she tries very hard to love. She watches him, far too often, his words and his deeds. She watches and wonders: is this wrong? She wonders it often enough that the litany shifts without her notice, a resigned and shaky: this is wrong.

–– Micheal almost blows her up, in the end. Him and his experimental magic. She should have been wary when he let her into the room, when he asked her to act as witness to his greatest deeds. She knows that he could have easily killed her, down there in his lab. His necromantic obsessions, his fascination with death and how to best it. That kind of spell can do far more damage than it did to her, when it backfires. She knows it could have killed her –– it killed him, after all. She’d seen his burned out husk, seen what was left of him, twitching until he faded away. A great deed. She’d known she was hurt, but it didn’t occur to her that she ought to cry or to scream or to call out for help. All she’d wanted in the moment was to lay down and fall asleep.

–– They bury her brother in the family crypt, and it’s a mark of her own strength that she attends the ceremony. Fresh from her sick bed after two weeks of healing. Intensive as the attentions of her healers had been, Cassandra still feels weary. Bone tired. Achey inside and out. ‘Dark magic often leaves a profound mark on the psyche.’ She needs help to stand, her leg still healing far too slowly for anybody’s liking. The help takes the shape of her Grandfather for the extent of the day. He keeps her steady, somehow steadfast and strong even in his old age. Her mother sobs and weeps, wrapped up in her seemingly endless sorrow. It still doesn’t occur to Cassandra that she ought to cry. She plays picture perfect hostess next to her mother after the ceremony, shakes hand after hand, and accepts condolences she doesn’t want. She plasters on a grim smile, as sad as she can manage.

–– It’s only the three of them in the house, quite suddenly. Cassandra, her mother, and her grandfather. Andre and father will be locked up for a very long time. Micheal is dead. Alexander departed in the weeks after the funeral, galavanting around Europe in a desperate effort to make a name for himself divorced from the rest of his despicable family. Cassandra feels more like a ghost than ever. A broken thing, gripping the cane her mother gifted her as she strives towards independence. She lost her wand, during the accident. It snapped beneath her when she fell. She ought to get a new one, she knows –– but she isn’t ready to face the world, she isn’t ready for them to look at her, yet. She sits in the dusty, unused Drawing Room instead, and makes fitful attempts to master simple spells wandlessly. The ancestral portraits watch her in wry amusement, until one speaks up –– ‘You’re not going to get anywhere like that.’ It’s Cassandra, the elder Cassandra. A great aunt she’s never given much thought to. Grandfather had always described her in unflattering tones, far too priggish for his taste, a stoic and upstanding citizen. His distaste for her is why she was condemned to the old drawing room, rarely used even by her mother. ‘I do believe my old wand is somewhere in the attic, gathering dust. Go and fetch it so we may all cease watching you struggle like a foolish child.’

–– She thinks a lot about the elder Cassandra in the weeks that follow. Using her wand. Gazing at her portrait. Reading about her, however much there is, in the family records. She seemed more noble than anything else, to Cass’s young eyes. Never married. A patron of various charities. Master duelist and stalwart believer in duty and honour. She had been the one who turned her Grandfather in to the Auror’s, who condemned him to a life of imprisonment in his own home for his unholy deeds, condemned him to a life without a wand. Then, the elder Cassandra had died young. She has no proof to back the chilling hunch, but there is something in Cass certain that her death was far from natural.

–– She thinks a lot about honour. Right and wrong. What kind of person she wants to be. She thinks, and then she stops thinking at all and begins to act. She moves their hoard of dark artefacts and distasteful books up to the attic, out of sight and out of mind. She opens all the windows and lets the light in. Then, with steely determination, she applies to auror training. Her career begins in fits and starts, wary eyes following her everywhere she goes. Her name carries weight, her family’s bad reputation still at the forefront of everybody’s mind. She doesn’t cower from it, this time around. She holds her head high and promises herself she’ll never quit, that she’ll never stop trying.

–– Cassandra is a good Auror. It turns out that she has a talent for it, more than she’s ever had with anything else. She graduates from the Academy in New Orleans at the top of her class, after having worked herself to the bone. She felt the rush of the accomplishment, felt ready to dedicate herself mind body and soul to the job, with a newly crafted sturdy moral compass in her heart. A lot of people still don’t trust her, even after years on the job – they think the darkness will win out, that she’ll default back to it if the going gets tough. All she wants is to prove them wrong, once and for all. All Cassandra wants is to be good, to help people, to make a difference in this world. She knows she’s going to succeed.

#cassandra astor reyes #written by wren #aurorx

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twofacedbelief · 5 years ago

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Playdate (part 9 | masterpost) tags: roceit, agere!remus, agere!oc

For all that Roman liked to make a show of being a brave prince, he did easily get scared outside of the Imagination and his pre-planned Quests. He is not embarrassed to admit that he spends most of the movie with his face hidden against Deceit’s shoulder - who wouldn’t when watching a movie about a house that’s alive and wants to eat children? He lives in a house!

It unnerves him a lot to glance over and see that Remus has managed to fall asleep, Stimulation held protectively against his chest. How many times must Remus have seen this movie to be able to fall asleep halfway through and stay asleep? Deceit hadn’t seemed faced either by the events of the movie, but Roman assumes his brother has forced the deceitful side to watch it more than once. You do get desensitised to things after a while, no matter how awful. There’s a reason that he can slay beasts during his quests without flinching at the bloodshed. Would he become desensitised to Remus’ intrusive thoughts and darker creative outlet if they spent more time together? Was Deceit desensitised to it?

“Your brother is definitely awake, so you have a reason to stay here.” Deceit turned off the movie and looked questioningly at him.

Roman would have loved to stay, but he had been gone for hours... While Virgil had promised to not mention that he was visiting the Dark, that promise might get broken if Patton got worried enough. He didn’t quite trust Virgil to keep the promise - not when Virgil had something to gain from making it harder for him to visit Remus and Deceit in the future. Roman couldn’t help but frown as he remembered that Virgil also held a romantic interest for Deceit.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Deceit’s lips were turned up, just the slightest hint of amusement. Roman blinked; he must have been staring.

“Just wondered if I should try to move Stimulation out of Remus’ arms so that I could take him back,” he evaded. Deceit raised his eyebrow knowingly but didn’t comment.

“It’s no problem for Ira to stay the night. You, on the other hand...”

Roman sighed at the reminder. He would never be able to be gone a whole night without outright lying to Patton, and for as much as he enjoyed Deceit, he didn’t enjoy lying outside of the theatre.

“Be a gentleman and walk me to the door?” he asked hopefully as he rose from the sofa.

“I knew you couldn’t get enough of my company,” Deceit responded. If not for the surprised look on his face that he hurried to cover up, Roman would have thought that Deceit was telling the truth.

They had been almost flirting before Virgil had shown up. Had that unwanted visit been enough for Deceit to forget that Roman liked him? Or was Deceit putting up an act? Roman wished he could tell lies from the truth just as well as Deceit did, but Creativity was a lot more focused on believing lies than seeing them.

“We really don’t spend enough time together,” Roman chose to say, pushing his thoughts aside. He much preferred being in the moment.

“You still want to spend time with me?” Deceit asked, his guard down and tone honest. “I thought Virgil’s little visit would have made you change your mind...”

“Why would I let Virgil get in the way of our friendship?” Roman paused his steps to look at Deceit.

“Because- because I was weak?” The words sounded unsure.

“You’re allowed to be weak, Deceit. Trust me, it’s impossible to be strong all the time.” He started walking again. They were almost by the door.

“You don’t understand. Being weak mean that they can take advantage of me, and I’m the only one keeping the Dark sides in the dark!”

“Then I’ll be your knight. You’re not alone, Deceit. I will help, and Remus would if you told him. I’m sure Logan would be able to help as well.”

“You’re too good for your own good, Roman.”

“I’m only good to the people I like,” Roman said with a gentle smile. They had reached the door, both of them coming to a stop.

“Oh...” Deceit glanced away for a moment. “I like you too.”

Deceit pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was soft and unsure, and it made his heart skip a beat. Roman let himself be pushed out through the door, as in a daze. He lifted a hand to where Deceit had kissed him, watching as the door closed in his face.

Roman broke out in a smile. Deceit liked him! He couldn’t contain his giggles as he started to walk through the Mindscape, back to the Light side. It felt as if he was walking on clouds. Deceit liked him, Deceit had kissed his cheek!

Feelings of love bubbled in his chest. He couldn’t wait until the next time that he would be able to get away to the Dark.

#roceit #roman sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #stimulation sanders #agere remus #my writing #ts playdate fic #THEY'RE SO CUTE UGH #the end is good i'm very proud #10 parts written over 11 days wow that's really good

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anxiouslyfred · 6 years ago

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Uncontrolled Daydream Mode

Summary: We’ve seen what an ideas generating ‘daydream mode’ looks like in Thomas’ videos but this is what happens when he’s actually just daydreaming and everyone in the mindscape is impacted.

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, spiders, brotherly anxceit

When Thomas and Roman give in to daydreams chaos usually ensues for the inhabitants of the mindscape.

With luck, all that would happen would be a few of the shorts characters or Cartoon Therapy characters manifesting and getting in the way for a while. That was a rare occurrence however and Logan could only pray for it as he saw flowers weaving around Roman’s door.

Seeing Patton hovering by the ceiling on doves wings quickly dashed those hopes however. “Pat, are you able to come down from there?” He queried, heading to get some coffee and watching out for Roman

“Not yet. He summoned spiders earlier.” His voice was steady so either the spiders had been vanished or at least scattered out of view a while ago, Logan assumed.

“Is it fright or Roman keeping you up there then?” Logan checked before freezing himself as he rounded the counter.

Virgil was sat cross legged on the floor, looking utterly entranced at several spiders over his arms and shoulders. Logan must have made some noise of concern at recognising a species or two of the spiders as Virgil glanced up. “He can’t summon anything truly harmful, L. Don’t look so worried.”

“Is this something that the daydreams have caused or do you simply have an aptitude towards arachnids?” Logan straightened his tie, taking a step backwards while trying to act like he’d had none of the concerns Virgil suggested.

“Well I do have a few of them in my room. I figure it’s just because they cause Thomas some anxiety that they originally appeared, but now they’re basically pets. If Ro keeps these around, I’ll keep them too.” Virgil muttered, glancing back into the living room. “Looks like he’s coming downstairs again regardless.”

Following Virgil’s gaze, Patton and Logan could see the banister shifting to golden spires with a woven band connecting them. The carpet had already changed to be a red velvet which rippled out to also cover the living room.

When Roman emerged onto the stairs, his outfit was utterly different to his usual one; chain mail armour was covered with a red cotton embroidered with his insignia in gold.

“Ah, Court Adviser Logan, you have arrived.” Roman decreed upon spotting him. “Have you managed to find any information on the beast plaguing the kingdom?”

Logan blinked, making sure to keep the table between them in a futile hope it would prevent the daydream from affecting him. “Can you remind me of what type of creature it is, please Sire?”

“Well, one of the villagers said it had two heads, another insisted on far too many legs, while all of them reported it flying.” Roman mused, his absent expression, ever present for daydreams growing stronger if it could as he focused on the daydreams story.

Alarm however was growing in Logan and Virgil’s expressions as their eyes darted between the spiders, Patton’s wings and each other. Virgil’s final glance at Roman had him slumping a little and gently folding his hands around his neck, trying to disturb his spiders as little as possible.

“Was there any mention of what the heads looked like? It would assist me in locating the mythology it originates from.” Logan tried, hoping they could learn with more evidence who might find themselves with an extra head.

So focused were the trio on Roman that Deceits entrance and frenzied looks around the room went unnoticed as the Prince began to speak. “Well, it had dark eyes on one head, bright yellow-green on the other. The dark eyes were in a serpents head as well, I’ve been told.”

“I’m right here and my eyes are the other way round!” The snapped words made everyone jump and an even more worried gaze from Virgil as they turned to Deceit.

“He wasn’t talking about you. Welcome to daydream central, Deceit.” Virgil snarked back, murmuring to Logan and Patton at their bewildered glances, “We don’t get affected by this when Thomas is denying us or doesn’t know about us.”

As Virgil stood, still moving slowly to keep the spiders calm, Patton backed into the living room, finally landing and Deceit crouched, curling into a corner of the room as though to get away from everyone while staying with them, shrinking into himself. “You really might be best just hiding in your room, Dee. If you think it cause I don’t want you around, would I say that, when it just makes you stick around more? Roman’s influence is weaker in our rooms so it’s less likely to affect you there.”

“I don’t recall you being this upset when Thomas went into daydream mode after you joined us.” Logan observed, recognising that Deceit was beginning to hyperventilate but unsure how to react to the dark side to help.

Virgil however, barely spared him a glance, heading towards Deceit. “You wouldn’t have. I’m good at hiding it, or myself when I want to.”

As he honed his focus in on the Deceitful side, Dee started clutching the right of his neck and the side of his face. “Deceit, I need you to breathe for me, just follow my pattern.” Virgil’s voice was steady as he took the others chin in one hand so their eyes would meet, a spider crawling over it to Deceits left shoulder as he did so.

“My neck! What’s happening to my neck?” Deceit gasped out, clawing at it until Virgil managed to pull both hands away with his free one, though no more of the spiders on him moved more than needed to stay in their spaces.

“Thomas and Roman are daydreaming, which means a lot of strange things are happening here, including transformations. It looks like you’re growing a serpents head. No, keep breathing with me. It will only be temporary. Come, on, breathe in for four counts.” Virgil’s voice remained calm and patient as he talked Deceit through his breathing techniques, confusing Logan and Patton further since they rarely saw this side of Virgil and never in regards to any dark side.

Deceit was gazing at Anxiety like he was his saviour. “But it hurts.” he muttered, like a lost child would.

“Unfortunately I can’t help that. It seems to work based on how liked you are. I’m sorry Dee.” Virgil’s voice quieted to soothing indiscernible whispers after that, only a dark flicker of his eyes to Roman showing the memories and history they usually ignored.

By the time the serpents head had fully formed, Virgil was cradling Deceit in his lap, looking more like a father than Patton ever had, even with the spiders still climbing over the pair of them. Patton and Logan had left them and Roman in the living room, supposedly to make lunch since they all knew the creative side would only acknowledge them if they fit a role in his dream and be hungry when he came out of it.

At the sound of a sword being drawn though, Virgil could only pray they’d intervene and help him. “Villain, you’ve plagued my kingdom for the last time!” Roman declared, weapon pointed directly at Deceit, even as Anxiety moved them to be between them in a crouch, hissing back.

“Don’t talk to be of villainy, Prince, unless you’ve finally routed it from your ranks.” He snarled back, ignoring the hands now clutching the back of his hoodie and heads on his shoulders.

His opposition was unexpected enough to have Roman blinking, torn between carrying the daydream on and coming out of it from confusion. “There’s never been any villainy amongst my knights.” He tried arguing, even as Logan and Patton dashed in, having heard the exchange start.

“Perhaps, my Liege, we might solve what has been plaguing the kingdom by discussing what’s ailing the aggressor instead of fighting it.” Logan suggested, only the title offered to Roman really acknowledging he still saw it as daydream mode. They all knew the consequences could be dire if Roman came to blows against Virgil while one was daydreaming and the other quite visibly in his original mindset of Anxiety and needed to avoid it.

Roman scoffed again, though his expression was beginning to clear even more. “The fiend should have done that before attacking my people.”

“Perhaps you’ve not given him a chance to do so. You seldom meet with your people, Prince Roman.” Patton tried to soothe, looking torn between offering comfort to the pair he most often thought of as his children and avoiding the creepy crawley death dealers on them.

Them all reasoning against his daydream seemed to be enough to finally end it and Roman’s sword dropping followed his expression clearing to curiously look at how the room and people in it had been changed this time. “Why do you look like you’re protecting Deceit, Virgil?” He asked, frowning at the only thing he couldn’t understand happening from the story he’d lived, while almost everyone else let out relieved sighs.

“Because I don’t plan on letting him go through the same crap I did alone. Any clue on how long the daydreams are going to stick around?” Virgil explained, his tone sharp, though he was taking a few deep breaths, reminding himself that he’s friends with them all now and doesn’t need to be on guard and scary constantly.

“You’re literally being cuddled by someone you normally can’t stand, but my daydreams are what concerns you?” Roman bristled before concentrating again. “Probably an hour or two.”

The mention of how disliked he was had Deceit’s serpent’s head hissing softly before he finally spoke up, “Totally feeling safe around you three. Wouldn’t you prefer your brother to be supported than alone?”

“We don’t really work family ties here quite like we did in the subconscious, Dee, just Patton trying to be everyone’s Dad.” Virgil murmured, turning enough that he could wrap an arm around Deceit and subtly check his temperature. “There’s not really the need when we’re trying to work together for Thomas’s best interests.”

The light sides were all in various states of confusion and growing understanding of the pair before them. “We used to argue over the most ridiculous things with Shai when we were teenagers.” Patton mused aloud.

“Or just stop talking to each other for no reason sometimes.” Roman added, “You were so hurt and confused a few times that happened.”

“Perhaps I should do some research into negative brotherly or sibling relationships.” Logan pondered, still thoroughly confused by the current change in the usually hostile pair, still latched to each other on the floor.

Virgil just snickered a little at their comments, tightening his arm and wrapping the other around Deceit too. “We class each other as brothers who hate each others views of the world. For now I’m going to get Dee to his heating rock. This daydream has decreased his already lowered ability to regulate body heat.”

Moving both of them must have taken his concentration since spiders scattered as they sunk out. Logan and Roman jumped and started reaching for either weapons or a way to contain them as Patton shot to the ceiling all over again.

“How long did Virgil have these on him?” Roman exclaimed, trying to herd them together, since creatures dying upset Patton nearly as much as spiders do.

“You’d summoned them before I came downstairs so I’m uncertain. Deceit came down about 5 minutes after me, just as we were trying to learn what else might happen.” Logan called, fetching a large bowl from the kitchen as he spoke.

Roman let out a humm as he finally gathered the spiders close together enough for the bowl to be placed over them all. “That was a new way to be brought out of a daydream though; one of you derailing it and the others suggesting different ways the dream could go. It might help if you need to end one in the future.”

#sympathetic deceit #brotherly anxceit #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides

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felicismagic18873 · 5 years ago

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Beyond the Blaze(5)

Summary: 4 Years old, Alyssa Potter finds her life taking a magical turn as she steps into a world of cute green giants, talking robots and misunderstood aliens. All of it is almost enough to make her forget the probable destruction of her own world.

Pain.

It seemed like the pain was his only steady companion nowadays. Rushing through his body, spreading like a fire and burning away all that was of him. It repulsed him. Loki always did hate fire, choosing to stand a bit farther than everyone else. Maybe that is why he hated Thor too because he burned like the brightest of hellfire, beautiful and deadly. A fire that didn't deserve to be tainted by his cold presence.

Runt.

Abandoned.

Tortured.

Loki bit back a scream when waves of phantom pain caressed his once almost healed wounds with the gentleness of a deceitful lover. The only show of his pain was the slight narrowing of his eyes. He'd learned his lesson at the hands of those spiteful beings. He'll never give them the pleasure of seeing the signs of his pain.

The muzzle felt tight on his face. He longed to lick his lips the dryness of them reminded him of days-or was it years?- of going without a drop of water.

There was a soft sound, one that'd escape most people's notice but not his, never his. Not again. It was most likely the doors of the elevator opening. There was a slight shuffling of feet. Loki wondered what Thor was doing lingering at the door.

Come on Oaf, distract me.

It was the light steps that informed him that it wasn't his br-Thor. Thor's steps were as light as a bilgesnipe meaning not light at all. This wasn't him.

A form darted to the side before he could see and wide green eyes filled with awe, peeked at him from behind one of the furniture pieces.

A child.

What was a child doing here?

A moment or two passed. The child took an unsteady breath and came out of the dark. Loki barely managed to keep his own shock from showing.

The childling could pass for his daughter. He tilted his head curiously wondering what new tactic was this. He'd thrown the 'invasion', the so-called Avengers had won and he'll be taken to Asgard in a day or two. What more could they wish to gain from him by sending a child to him?

Were they out of their minds? Careless mortals.

"H-Hello." The childing whispered before standing up a little straighter and saying more firmly, "Hello. I am Alyssa Potter"

Loki dipped his head a little as a greeting. He was bored-and curious-enough to accept the company. No matter how small. The girl smiled with her whole face making her almost radiate light. There was something about this child that he was missing.

"It's nice to meet you, Loptr the cunning." The child put a small fist on her chest and bowed her head. Loki's eyes sharpened. Oh, this child knew who he was. Unlike the other mortals, she knew. He could see it in reflected in the respect and awe in her eyes. Even if it weren't for her respectful-slightly off angle-bow he wouldn't have missed it.

He tilted his head curiously. The child looked up with a hesitant look biting her lips. She took a deep breath before a tide of words escaped her plump lips, " I hope that was the right way of sayin hello. Em...Mel told me about the bow, but not about what to say. She just said be respectful. But-" She stopped suddenly biting her lips a little harder.

For a moment, Loki wondered how the blood would look against the red of her lips if she ended up cutting it but shook the thought away. The child was looking at him as if expecting an answer, then her eyes fell on his muzzle and understanding filled her face. Her lips parted, "Oh."

Oh indeed.

The child tugged at the necklace she was holding bringing his attention to it. Her whole hand covered the stone but it aroused his interest. It almost seemed like the necklace was shining with an inner light.

He barely suppressed a wince when the pain made itself known again, angry at being ignored. His run-in with the green beast hadn't helped his case. The only thing it had done was abuse his already battered body. His eyes closed on their own accord trying to push back the haziness that surrounded his mind.

A soft hand rested on his muzzle, the soft fingers touched his skin making his eyes snap open. Green eyes stared into his own. Bright with youth, unlike his own tired ones. The big eyes looked worried and he felt like scoffing. No matter how in awe the child was, he did not need her worry.

"Are you okay?", was whispered softly as if the words took all the courage the child had. Loki didn't dare to move. The mortals were foolish enough to leave a child with him unattended. But it didn't mean he was cruel enough to harm her. "I don't know what you did, . But I am sure you had a good reason or at least I hope you did."

The warmth of the hand on his cheek didn't feel revolting, it felt dare he say calming instead. A tingle spread from the child's hand into his body. Loki's eyes widened when he felt the ache in his body soothing away.

Sorcerer!

The child was a magic user!

Loki felt like laughing. He, Loki the cunning, had managed to miss the most obvious thing about the child. There was magic running through her body. He could see it now, curling around her body like the embrace of a mother.

He wondered if she knew what she was doing soothing his pain. A look into her eyes revealed that no, she didn't. She still looked worried and confused. She stepped back, the fingers around the pendant tightened. She gazed at it for a moment before shrugging a bit.

The raven-haired child was not aware of the powers of her pendant, it was healing him. A gift then? Maybe from the being known as 'Melina'. The name sparked a feeling of recognition but it slipped away before he could grasp it. It seemed to happen a lot nowadays.

"It's just a mix-up, I'm sure." He heard her mumbling then she smiled at him with eyes filled with a childish hope," And they'll letchu go once you explain it at the trial! You can convince them like you convinced the dwarves."

Loki's eyes widened. Dwarves? How did-

The child misunderstood the look, she gave a sheepish look.

"I know the story's not for kids but I asked Melina again and again until she told me. Its one of my favorites."

Melina. The child kept repeating the name again and again. It was awfully familiar. If only he could place where it was from. It irritated him a great deal when a headache was all he got for his trouble.

"You know I didn't believe when he said that you were gonna hurt me. I was right wasn't I because-"

The child's eyes widened and a small shriek escaped her lips when the elevator opened with a grating noise. It was forced open by the robotic hands of that insufferable-invaluable, curious,interesting-mortal man, Tony Stark.

All emotions drained from Loki's face in record time leaving behind a smug mask that was oh so familiar. The child was staring at the energy repulsor pointed towards him with something akin to awe instead of fear. Strange child.

"Step back,Kiddo" The robotic voice lacking its usual teasing notes ordered. "I'm gonna blow this Popsicle ."

Instead of doing the logical thing and stepping away, the girl visibly pushed back her awe and glared at the genius.

"Hey! That's not nice."

Stark scoffed," What's not nice is him frying up my elevator control," brown eyes filled with scrutiny turned towards him, the child stumbled back a little her face taking on a curious look, "I thought we talked about this, Jack Frost. Any more funny games and you'll be enjoying the rest of your stay at vila de shield instead of my tower of awesomeness. I've got my eye on you."

Loki understood the real threat behind the casually spoken words. He made a face internally at the horrendous nickname but opted not to tell him that he had nothing to do with the child being here. It's not like he'd believe him anyway.

"Speaking of which," Stark continued nonchalantly putting himself between Loki and the child. He tried to make it look like a casual movement but Loki could see that he was trying to protect the child. The child that was oddly silent and serious as if in deep thoughts.

"Where is your keeper?"

Loki growled at Stark with an intensity that'd made stronger men cry, Stark just flashed a shark-like smile. He did love danger.

"Aw come on don't be like that. We all know that Thor is your glorified nanny."

Loki looked away.

"Jarvis?" The Artificial butler must've shown him something because Stark was nodding and humming the next second." Makes sense." He declared. "Now off we go. See ya later, alligator"

And with that Stark walked out guiding the silent child with him.

This certainly gave Loki a lot to think about.

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

Tony lifted his hand from the kid's shoulder to run a hand through his hair. His lips parted a little and his eyes fixed on the child, the kid was looking down at her shoes with a strange fixation as if solving some deep equation.

His mind raced over a thousand different outcomes yielding nothing. He was honestly in complete disbelief and confusion. And that was a big statement since Tony was usually the person least confused in a room. His brain worked faster than others in a way that considered unique-abnormal a voice sounding a great deal like his father whispered-and he didn't like the feeling at all.

How could Loki do something like messing with his whole system, messing with Jarvis and somehow compelling a kid to come to him when Thor had assured him that the bag of cat's magic was repressed by the handcuffs and he couldn't even hurt a fly. There were only a few things that came to mind.

One, Thor lied to them cause even if the blonde was really a big golden retriever he was basically a stranger and it was the matter of his brother, adopted or not.

Two, Thor had no idea and somehow Loki managed to break the handcuffs, unlikely seeing how banged up he still looked when his magical mumbo-jumbo should have healed him.

Three, there was an external entity that helped him do it but everyone was freed from the glowstick's thrall so no one came to mind.

And last but not least, there only other person present was responsible for it. The kid. And that was the least believable option but it had to be mentioned cause the kid was acting all weird.

Speaking of which, "What's going on in that pretty head of yours, Lilo? Did Raindeer games say something? Ignore him, we all do."

"My names Alyssa, not Lilo." The kid replied in a distant voice, still obsessively staring at her shoes.

Tony's eyebrow raised at the sullen tone, a contrast to the happy if cheeky tone she'd had earlier. Was this normal with kids? Mood swings? He had no idea but it irritated him, it made him want to fix whatever made her so morse and sad. And why wouldn't it, he was a mechanic it was his job to fix things.

The door of the elevator opened again, Tony ignored it. He knelt down, wincing when his jeans touched the floor, and with his index finger under her chin, he gently raised the kid's face to his own level. The kid kept her eyes lowered for something but sensing his stare she finally met his eyes.

He looked into the slightly shiny eyes for a second before forcing a smile on his face trying to make her feel relaxed. It worked for an unseen tension bled out of her shoulders.

"So, I have no idea how to do this. Its usually someone else's job, you get me, kid? Sooo go a little easy on me and tell me what's bothering you? Was it Loki? Cause I will mess his shi-I mean I'll talk with him if he said something and by talk I mean threaten him to Pakistan and back and-"

"I am sorry!" The kid blurted out cutting him off, "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to-I mean I did but...I didn't want you to worry and I-"

"Wait that's what you're so bothered about?" Seeing her tentative nod, he shook his head with an exasperated look," Oh come on, Kid. Consider it forgiven. It was no big deal. I do stuff that worries people all the time and it's my fault most of the time. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. "

Considering the issue to be resolved, he mentally gave himself a pat on the back and stood up. He almost missed the kid's whisper, "But it was. It was my fault." The words rang with the echo of another person's exact same declaration. Barton's.

He stilled. The dread that had gripped him the moment Jarvis informed him of her little detour came back with a force. He'd imagined walking in a moment too late and finding the little cheeky kids body spread over the floor with a dark figure standing over her.

Did Loki do something to the kid?

"Nah it wasn't you, kid. Its just gods and aliens and things messing with our minds. Whatever you think you did, it wasn't you."

A small hand grabbed his own, a scene similar to one before but with something heavy coating it.

"It was me, Mister Robot. I wanted to see Loptr and I wished it so much that it happened. It happens to me sometimes."

It felt like something important was happening, that the kid telling him this-whatever this was- was something momentous. The kid was staring at him as if waiting for a reaction.

Tony wondered what to do but a single glance at the kid's innocent face twisted with anxiety and his decision was made. He decided to trust her. At least until he could confirm what actually happened.

"You did this?"

The kid bit her already red lip and nodded her head, her eyes lowered again. He recognized the expression, it was the same one he had every time he stood in front of his father waiting to be punished.

"Okay." And with that, he put a hand over her shoulder, absently filing away the slight flinch that it induced and guided her out of the elevator.

"You're not angry?" She asked hesitantly look at him from under long black eyelashes.

"What? Angry? No ways!" He exclaimed a little, the dramatics worth it when the kid's eyes widened with wonder as she sat on the sofa she'd slept in earlier. "Excited and curious, more like it. So how did you do it, Matilda? Cause I'm completely lost."

Alyssa's smile lifted her whole face, her eyes scrunched up a little and her cheeks regained some of their colors. Tony noticed how ashy she'd looked earlier and pushed down the thought that the kid was afraid of something, of him.

"I dunno," she shrugged, still smiling. "I just wish for stuff to happen and it does. It's magic."

Tony hummed, "And you've always done stuff like this?"

"Uh-huh", the kid nodded. Tony mind finally came to the right conclusion and he felt like cursing. It was so obvious! How could he miss it? Jarvis did tell him that the kid said she wanted to see Odin junior and she also said she did it. It was so right in front of him and he couldn't see it!

"You're a mutant! That makes so much sense!" He declared happily, " I wonder if Hulk could sense it. Maybe your ability affects the electromagnetic fields in some way."

"I'm..I'm a what? Whats a mutant?" She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees and cupping her face with her hands.

Tony flopped next to the kid. His one leg folded under him and the other hanging off the side of the soda. Dark curls bounced a little as she also turned a little so she was facing him. Her green eyes shining with curiosity stared at him. Tony sat a little straighter.

"Its someone born with the X-gene.", he finally said.

"Wha?", her nose scrunched up cutely. Tony suppressed a smile knowing it might be taken the wrong way, that maybe he was laughing at her for her lack of info.

"Right. Little kid. , well its someone who...can do awesome things because of a gene...because of something written in their DNA." Seeing the blank look on her face, he groaned. "Agh, wait you don't know what DNA is, how do I even-"

"I think I get?" She tilted her head thoughtfully. " I was born with special powers?" Tony nodded, it was close enough. "Maybe I am a mutant. Huh. I called myself a wizard"

"Aren't boy witches called wizards?"

"Yep"

"Okaaay whatever tickles your fancy then."

Alyssa nodded her head with a serious expression, "Oh I am very ticklish."

Tony didn't bother to suppress his laugh, it made Alyssa laugh in turn even though she probably had no idea what he was laughing about.

After catching his breath he asked the question that was nagging him."So who are ya really, midget?"

"What dya mean?

"Name, address you know the usual." He tried to say with a casual air, not wanting her to know that he was already running a worldwide face check, it was slow but thorough.

"Well my name is Alyssa Potter and I used to live in Silvercoast, Surrey"

A blue projection showed up in front of Tony making Alyssa gasp with awe, she reached out a hand but pulled it back the last minute.

"Silvercost, Surrey. You sure kiddo?" He swiped the list of neighborhoods in Surrey. There was no Silvercost in Surrey. " Maybe you got the names mixed up? It could be 'Staines' or 'Sunbury' or something.", with a quick action, he made the face search exclusive to Surrey.

"I'm sure! But.." She hesitated a little."I dunno if Silvercost is the same in this world."

Tony's fingers stilled over the projection, "This world?" He swiped away the projection and turned his full attention towards the child. "What in the beautiful clean energy planet are you talking about kid?"

"I am kind of...well...not from here?" She asked stumbling on her words a little then rushed to explain. " I had to leave because if I didn't then my powers would be taken away."

"Not from here." A dark vacuum filled with stars invaded his mind. He managed to suppress the images that were haunting him since the battle a week ago. "What do you mean not from here? Are you an alien or something? Do other planets also have a Surrey?

Alyssa smiled a little, "No, Silly. I am not an alien." Tony breathed out in relief. "I am just from another Earth. An alte-alter-different Earth."

Tony stared at the grinning child. A different Earth. Right. He wondered if she could tell that he didn't believe her, at all. Aliens were one thing. Claiming to be from an alternate universe was a whole another can of worms.

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who you ask, Jarvis interrupted any further investigation.

"Sir, Doctor Banner is inquiring to the reason for your sudden exit as well as permission to access the ongoing research."

Oh yeah, Tony had made sure not to tell Bruce what was going on so he had no idea what had happened. It's just that the last thing they needed was for him to go green again.

Tony scoffed, " You can tell Green Bean that he doesn't need to ask permission for anything. And I'll explain everything to him when I come down." Hopefully, Bruce would know what the little girl was talking about. Maybe she was just very imaginative?

"I will let him know, Sir." Then turning his attention back towards the kid, Tony took note of how she was playing with her pendant again. She seemed to do it a lot.

"Okaay I'm gonna be right back kiddo.", he declared standing up and decided to leave before he says something he might regret later.

The kid hmm'd. Right before leaving Tony saw the downcasted eyes and felt something pull at him. With a sigh, he turned around and signaled Jarvis to make a projection available.

The kid's hunched back straightened immediately and with a wide-eyed look, she stared at him in shock.

"Go wild." And with a grin that was returned, Tony stepped into the elevator for the millionth time that day. The day just seemed to stretch on and on.

"What's the ETA on Thor? You said something about him and Barton going after the glowing stick of destiny?"

"No specific time frame was indicated. They came to the conclusion that the scepter might be needed for the trial."

Tony hmm'd distractedly, it explained why Thor wasn't watching his brother but why didn't he appoint someone else in his place?

Something didn't feel right. Someone messed up and he was going to figure out who did.

#tony stark has a heart #tonystark #irondad #Harry Potter #female!harrypotter #Beyond the blaze #kid!fic #family #Marvel #fanfiction

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fragmentedshards · 6 years ago

Text

The Final Curtain, Chapter Seven

Nocturne

Self-reflection.

Mei Rin never underwent the process of self-reflection unless the situation was a dire one. She had briefly reflected on who she was becoming the first time she assassinated someone, but by the time Sebastian had appeared to recruit her she was almost immune to the flickers of integrity in her soul. Working to protect the Phantomhive manor and the young master, she never committed any tasks that called her integrity into question. She, as well as Bard and Finny, prevented threats from harming the young master, and that was that.

Then the circus performers came.

They had materialized in the middle of the night with the obvious purpose of attacking the manor and the young earl. The servants eliminated the ragtag band using every manner at their disposal, and never gave a fully conscious second thought until after the fact. The members of the Noah's Ark Circus had all been so young, they could not have been acting on their own; they must have been working for someone.

Mei Rin had felt her first twang of a guilty heartstring in a long time when she heard the grieving cry of the one called Peter, when she had shot the one called Wendy. She had pushed those little thoughts aside, continuing to protect the Phantomhive manor with every bit of her being. But the feelings continued, until the day she stumbled upon the files for the Noah's Ark Circus case when cleaning the earl's study. The performers had been working for someone; their benefactor and, for all intents and purposes, father. They had acted out of protection for their assumed family, just as she, Bard, and Finny had protected their own "family" that fateful evening.

Then came the fire.

Several cases for the Queen later, after Sebastian and the young master had investigated all manner of murders and kidnappings and deceit, acquiring Pluto in the process, the fire had struck London. It was, physically, the work of Pluto, being controlled - Mei Rin knew now - by an angel of massacre. The earl had convinced her and the other servants that Pluto was out of his mind, succumbing to the beast inside of himself, and urged them to shoot; to put him out of his misery. And they did. And Mei Rin's guilt gushed within every vein. In her own mind, no matter what logic the others applied, she had murdered a friend - in a way, a family member - and thus, her integrity was abolished for good.

These musings and memories flooded Mei Rin's mind as she stood before the mirror in her room in the servants' quarters, preparing to meet Sebastian in the garden. She had spent the evening helping Paula take care of the Abberline baby, and with her tasks as well as Sebastian's completed for the night, it was time for the second wave of discussion.

She did not look forward to it.

All the nervousness that would have filled her with anticipation for meeting Sebastian at any other time did not exist now. Instead, Mei Rin felt a numb anger. She had

wholeheartedly forgiven Sebastian for his fooling her and the other servants, but the thought of everything that had come to light about the young master left her disillusioned about what she had so long perceived as an idyllic life. She could not protect the boy who had given her so much. Mei Rin stared expressionless at her reflection in the full-length mirror, then slowly reached up to her face and removed her eyeglasses, placing them in a drawer in her nightstand.

With a last glance at herself, she turned on her heel and lethargically exited her room, making her way to the Phantomhive gardens.

Sebastian was waiting when Mei Rin arrived. How long he had waited, she could not tell. He saw her approaching, regarding her almost kindly. When she reached him, he gave a nod of the head by way of greeting, to which she only stared.

"Mei Rin, whatever happened to your glasses?" Sebastian inquired, noticing the maid's distinctly bright, cat-like eyes. "True, I don't suppose you need to disguise your astounding eyesight anymore..."

Mei Rin shook her head. "I don't deserve them, I don't," she stated, her voice rendered monotone. "I was supposed to protect the young master, and I failed. I don't deserve that gift from him."

The butler watched her speak. "In fact, your job, as well as Bard and Finny's job, was to protect the Phantomhive Manor; I was tasked with protecting the young master's life." he placed a hand on the maid's shoulder. "You failed at nothing."

"Are you so sure?" Mei Rin unenthusiastically jerked her shoulder away. "Did you forget the utter destruction of the manor after Pluto's fire?"

"If all had gone according to plan, the state of the manor would have meant nothing," Sebastian continued. "The young master had achieved his revenge; I should have taken his soul.

If I had not lost my arm - and, with it, the contract seal - the young master would be long dead, and the condition of the Phatomhive estate would be inconsequential to all."

"And what would have become of us?" Mei Rin demanded, glaring at the butler. "Finny, Bard and myself - why, even Tanaka! What would we have done, without the young master and the estate, without even you to guide us?"

"Do you really believe I would not have provided for each of you?" Sebastian countered, audibly disgruntled.

"To be frank, Mister Sebastian," Mei Rin's voice was frighteningly calm. "I believe you would not have given any of us a second thought after consuming the young master's soul."

Sebastian was speechless. He realized, confounded, that the maid was right even though she was wrong. He had made preparations to give each of them new employment following the desecration of the manor, but it was true: he would never think of them again beyond that. They had been meaningless to him. Had been. He stared at her guiltily, wondering how and why he managed to get into this situation. She glared back, unmoving. At length, he lowered his head in admittance.

"Since the young master made the choice to reveal the truth to everyone and continue running Funtom, and we traveled back to the estate, I have thought in detail about humans," the butler confessed. "Demons think of humans primarily as food, you see, and that is still correct in that the devouring of human souls remains the source of sustenance for a demon. But viewing the human race as only food is, in fact, a misjudgment. I see now, in hindsight and in the moment, how strong and complex humans really are. You fight with everything you have to protect what you deem important. You fully comprehend your mortality, and though you may fear death you accept it - most humans, at least. Mortality is not a matter presented to demons very often; we have no reason to dwell on it. Living with that shadow over your every action... many demons view that as incredibly naive. I see now that to still regard humans in that light is to remain in ignorance."

Mei Rin watched Sebastian closely throughout his soliloquy. When she assumed he had finished, she kept her eyes on him a moment longer before exhaling sharply through her nose and looking away. "Mortality brings different meanings to different people. Growing to respect the human race as a whole is an improvement to your character, but keep in mind that not all humans are the same."

"Just as I hope you will keep in mind, Mei Rin," the butler replied coolly, "That not all demons are the same."

The maid glanced at him, but said nothing.

They walked silently throughout the garden for several minutes before Sebastian decided to speak again. "I suppose the best use of our meeting tonight would be to examine our respective feelings regarding one another," he began, but another scoff from Mei Rin made him stop short.

"Is that really the wisest use of our time?" she questioned. "I feel a certain way and you are immune to feeling. How does that warrant an examination?"

"Today I have been noticing unfamiliar stirrings within myself," the butler answered, matter-of-factly. "Well... I suppose unfamiliar is not the correct word. I was human once, and I experienced sensations similar to these current stirrings. I have been subject to them before today as well, but they were not nearly as strong. I believe it is safe to say that, due to the abundance of unprecedented activity in the recent past, my emotions are returning to me. I am, if you will, learning to feel again."

This caught Mei Rin's attention. Her eyes widened at Sebastian in curiousity. "Learning to feel again? That's an interesting notion. I wonder if it will change your disposition."

Sebastian sighed in amusement. "I have been this way for nearly a millennium. I can hardly remember what it was like to be human, or what sort of human I was. I have no way of knowing how my newfound humanity will affect me now." he paused, then chuckled softly.

"The only thing I know that remained in me from my humanity is my love of cats."

The maid allowed herself to laugh along at this remark. "I expect this will be a journey for all of us, then. It never occurred to me that you might have to make adjustments as well. I wish you luck, Mr. Sebastian."

"I confess I do not believe in luck, Mei Rin," Sebastian fixed her with his crimson eyes, and he began looking more familiar to her. She found this comforting, somehow. "Especially in this situation, after all; I will have you and the others to instruct me."

He smiled kindly at her, an expression which she gladly returned. And with that, Mei Rin slowly felt her resentment - both towards herself and towards the black-clad butler - fade away.

#fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #write #writer #writing #black butler #black butler fanfiction #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji fanfiction #sebastian x meyrin #black butler meyrin #kuroshitsuji meyrin #black butler sebastian #kuroshitsuji sebastian #the final curtain

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myselfinserts · 2 years ago

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❝ we’re no longer family as far as i’m concerned. ❞

“Unchained Melody”. A song from a prison escape movie from the 1950s, which grew and grew into a powerhouse of songs which helped define the quintessential list of wedding playlist. A loving, haunting pattern with lyrics that perfectly encapsulate how it feels to be away from one you love so deeply.

Rather fitting, in a way, for this to also be the name of Viktor’s Sigil. While not in a romantic sense, the melody of the song and the intense passion of desperation and yearning to see someone you love was a feeling he knew all too well. A familial bond he held dearly, which the song was able to put into words.

Was it an unhealthy attachment? Absolutely. He wasn’t blind to it. Viktor knew feeling such a strong tie to someone he hardly knew was not good for him. Even if they are family, this level of devotion was toxic. And if left unchecked, he was certain it would destroy him.

But it was also the only thing keeping him alive.

The night he entered D-Game was the worst night of his life. He was preparing to leave to attend university in Tokyo. He wanted to study music. He had a life plan he’d build for himself. No more nannies. No more dark rooms with wifi off after 8pm. No more intense studying of subjects he had no interest in. Viktor would finally have a life. He’d finally get to live. He would finally be happy.

But the night after graduation, things changed. Desperate for freedom, he studied so hard that he graduated three years early. The plan was to use the money he’d been saving, plus the aid of his father via the alimony, and get an apartment in downtown, not too far from U.A. Private High School. Everything was planned.

And then his mother called him to the study.

He had been locked in by one of the housekeepers, left alone with his mother and his two vile aunts. Viktor barely managed to get a word in when he saw the remains of soft, silvery fluff on the floor.

Viktor knew his aunt was saying something about his education. The other was spouting some nonsense about having to grow up. His mother was praising his skills, surely. But he didn’t care. He could make out a wing. An antenna. Mostly, just the stuffing. He knew what it was.

“Here, I want you to have it.”

“Me? Are you sure about this? You worked hard to win it after all.”

“Yeah! For being such a cool big cousin!”

“Viktor? Viktor! Do not ignore us, young man!”

Slowly he looked up from the torn moth plush on the ground and at the three creatures before him. “Excuse me?”

His mother narrowed her gaze, her voice low and warning. “I said, it’s time to prepare for the family business. You may have your pick of which branch, but you will need to complete your university education soon. Also, we have your marriage interviews prepared-”

“Shut the fuck up, you bitch.”

All their eyes went wide as Zala stepped forward. “How dare you speak to your mother in such a disrespectful manner!”

Viktor clenched his fists. “We’re no longer family as far as I’m concerned.”

Both sisters were about to step forward, when Veronika held up a hand to stop them. In the other was her phone. “Viktor, apologize to your mother and Aunt.”

“No,” he spat. “I’ve had enough!” He pointed directly at Blanka, his eyes burning with tears as he shouted. “That beast is not my mother! She’s a cold, heartless, deceitful puppet master! And I refuse to be strung along by her!”

“Viktor-”

“I am going to Japan! I’m going to study music! I’m going to find Uncle Myko and meet my cousin again! And you cannot stop me, you disgusting witches!”

Veronika sighed and tapped at the screen on her phone.

A notification sounded, and Viktor pulled out his phone to answer. His aunt had sent him a link to a free to play app? “The hell?”

“Click it, or you will not be allowed to leave this room,” she warned. “We’ll stay as long as it takes.”

“….If I do, will you let me go free?”

“It depends on what comes to follow.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. But he knew this aunt well enough to know she meant every word. She once locked her own betrothed in the attic for a week with a single bottle of water because he refused to attend a function. He did not want a similar fate. Reluctantly, he clicked the invite link.

“This will be an excellent punishment for the little one. He’ll fall into line in no time. Or he’ll die. Whichever comes first.”

Those were the last words he remembered hearing, before the music began.

The pain in his neck burned, but not as much as his blood as the venom from the snake coursed through him. A grand orchestra echoed in the skies as chains decorated in starlit notes spun and twirled around him, cutting away at anything and everything in their reach. The room around them shook and shattered. A bookcase fell on top of Zala, pinning her in place just fast enough for a chain to come right up through her neck. Veronika’s eyes widened as she tried to run, but several chains carried her up toward the sky. Blanka tried to run at him with a knife, only for her to be knocked through the window.

Viktor screamed. He felt to his knees, covering his ears andtried to block out the music. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from. But itwas dark. Heavy. And his body was reacting to it in such a way that he wascertain he would be pulled apart. Drawn and quartered despite his attempts tocurl in on himself. Everything was pulling. Chains wrapping deeply around hisbones. Closing in. Threatening to shatter.

The world was a blur. Flashing lights. Dust, debris, and rubbleswirling around. Tears spilling uncontrollably. The faint taste of metal on histongue. He could barely look up to see the chains dancing and crashing intoeverything around him, knocking the house to the ground.

I’m going to die. Oh god. Oh god, no. I don’t want to die.

A light hand pulled him close, covering his eyes and holding himas tightly as they could. Gentle whispers of an old lullaby, and the orchestrabegan to fade. Viktor could barely manage to choke out a word.

“Taťka?”

The arms squeezed slightlytighter, holding him and singing softly. A gentle sway side to side. A rockingmotion that eased the pain little by little.

He lost track of time. He didn’t know how long they were there. But he didn’t care. Viktor leaned into the embrace and tried hard to steady his breathing. The warmth of the arms around him, no different than they’d been the last time, were perfect. They were safe.

By the time he opened his eyes again, the entire world was back to normal. His mother and aunts were laying on the floor, passed out but slightly bruised. It was as if they hadn’t been attacked by ghostly specters. The bookshelves and entire room was in one piece. His moth plush sat on the lounge chair, soft and fluffy as ever. You wouldn’t think it had ever been torn apart.

A soft, cooling sensation brushed over his cheeks as Viktor was turned around. His father was staring softly at him, eyes glowing a soft amber hue and a light smile on his face as he cleaned away muck and grime on his face. He almost had to laugh.

“You still carry wet wipes everywhere, taťka?” he asked.

His father nodded. “I take it Veronika sent you a link to D-Game?”

“D-Game?” Viktor nodded. “If you mean that app, then yeah.”

“I thought so. She did the same to her husband. And Blanka did to me, before the divorce.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and holding up the screen for Viktor to see. “This is my profile. Look under the title “Sigil”.”

Viktor did as he was told, looking at the small text in bewilderment. A single word was listed there as the name, and the brief description in a box at the bottom.

“Restore; The Ability to restore things to a previous state, as though no damage had ever been done to them before.” He stared at his father, more questions forming as he tried to process what was happening. “Taťka, I don’t understand.”

“That’s my ability. I’ve been training it since I figured it out.” He glanced at the women laying on the ground. “We don’t have much time. No doubt he’ll be coming for me soon.”

“Who’s coming for you? Taťka-

“Viktor, listen to me.” He gripped his son’s shoulders tightly, lips trembling slightly as he did his best to keep composure. “D-Game is a death wish. Your mother and her sisters were experts at using it to further their goals. They didn’t account for the day someone they attempted to murder with it would overpower them.”

His stomach dropped. He didn’t want to believe it. That his own mother would approve of his murder. But he had heard Veronika’s heart when he clicked that link. He knew the truth.

“Now listen carefully,” his father continued. “Your mother and her sisters died tonight. But my Sigil, the power you get in this game, restored them. Death is supposed to be the end of it in D-Game, as the Game Master designed. I found a loophole, so I’ll have to disappear.”

“What? No! Taťka, I don’t understand-!”

His father shook him slightly. “Listen! You need to grab your bags and leave. Now. Any moment now, the devil will come here and take me away. If he sees you and you see him, he will ensure you never live to see the dawn.” He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small pocket book. “I have written down everything you’ll need to know about how to survive this game in here. Read it. Study it. Dedicate it to your very bones. Master your Sigil. Survive. Do whatever you have to do. But you cannot stay here any longer!” His eyes had stopped glowing now. Their natural, earthy tone glimmered in the light as they filled with tears. “Do this for your old taťka, won’t you? Do this for me, Viktor. My little maestro. Please.”

Viktor nodded as he put the book in his pocket. He didn’t understand. He still didn’t understand. Sigil? Game Master? Nothing made sense. He was sure it would eventually. The only things he could understand right now was that his father’s heart was breaking, and it was no longer safe in the Darnell family home.

Viktor had no place here anymore.

He hugged his father one last time, tried hard not to shatter at the last kiss he’d ever receive on his head, and then grabbed his moth before finally leaving the study. He didn’t turn back to look as the doors closed.

If he did, he knew he would never leave the house alive.

“That was a year and a half ago. Not long after that, I traveled across Europe, taking online courses in university and basically hiding out. Uncle Gladstone and I ran into each other while he was working abroad on an important contract, and when he found out on that I’m in D-Game, he gave me some training. He also disappeared shortly after that.”

“I see.” Kasumi took a sip of her tea, humming softly. “Lovely blend. I don’t know where you got this, but it is lovely.”

“Thank you,” Viktor chuckled. “I’m glad you enjoy it.”

“I love an excellent brew.” She set her cup down, her eyes watching the leaves bounce softly. “We had suspicions on your family’s company for a while. It’s nice to have confirmation. Just don’t mention to the others that you got D-Game training from Renegade yet. Let that detail come out after they get used to having you around.”

Viktor nodded slowly. “You’re all surprisingly calm about having me around.”

“Well, of course. We know your stats. That was among the few deaths you actually caused in D-Game.” She looked over the file again, smiling as she looked over the scores. “You’re an escape artist, and you mastered your Sigil pretty quickly, all things considered. It’s supposed to be natural, but I have seen cases where Sigils are stronger than the wielder can take, but now I know it’s a totally different case with you.” She glanced at the phone on the table. “So you use the app in tandem with a music app to manage the power?”

“Yes. It was Uncle Gladstone’s idea.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Miss Aizawa-”

“Kasumi. Please, call me Kasumi.”

He nodded. “Kasumi..... why are you all so...okay with this? I know my reasonings, but I’m trying to understand your position here. Why are we talking over tea instead of getting to the point? Am I joining you, or do you want me to stay back and fight a different way?”

“We’re talking over tea because I want to get a read on you. What you’re like outside of the game. Beneath the pompous coat and extravagant chains.” Kasumi sighed and reached out a hand, lightly taking his and looking him dead in the eye. “No one in this game is innocent anymore. But the one who dragged us down with him deserves our fury before we’re all condemned to hell. Don’t you want vengeance for your taťka? Is that not why you’re here?”

Viktor nodded, his green eyes glowing the same vivid green as the night he arrived. “That’s part of it. More than anything, I’m here because I know that the Game Master will target my cousins next. He took Uncle Gladstone. He took my taťka. He will not take my cousins. I refuse to allow that. I’d sooner let my Sigil rip me apart than do that. I will find my taťka. I will find the Game Master. And I will rip him apart cell by cell with the very chains he put me in.”

With that, Kasumi smiled, eyes glowing a soft, amber hue.

“Good answer.”

#myselfinserts #mybnhaocs #friends ocs #class of aus: d-game au #this was both a joy and a pain to work on but I love it

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dfroza · 3 years ago

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Shine like stars across the land.

Cling to the word of life…

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 2nd chapter of the Letter of Philippians:

If you find any comfort from being in the Anointed, if His love brings you some encouragement, if you experience true companionship with the Spirit, if His tenderness and mercy fill your heart; then, brothers and sisters, here is one thing that would complete my joy—come together as one in mind and spirit and purpose, sharing in the same love. Don’t let selfishness and prideful agendas take over. Embrace true humility, and lift your heads to extend love to others. Get beyond yourselves and protecting your own interests; be sincere, and secure your neighbors’ interests first.

In other words, adopt the mind-set of Jesus the Anointed. Live with His attitude in your hearts. Remember:

Though He was in the form of God,

He chose not to cling to equality with God;

But He poured Himself out to fill a vessel brand new;

a servant in form

and a man indeed.

The very likeness of humanity,

He humbled Himself,

obedient to death—

a merciless death on the cross!

So God raised Him up to the highest place

and gave Him the name above all.

So when His name is called,

every knee will bow,

in heaven, on earth, and below.

And every tongue will confess

“Jesus, the Anointed One, is Lord,”

to the glory of God our Father!

So now, my beloved, obey as you have always done, not only when I am with you, but even more so when I can’t be. Continue to work out your salvation, with great fear and trembling, because God is energizing you so that you will desire and do what always pleases Him.

Do all things without complaining or bickering with each other, so you will be found innocent and blameless; you are God’s children called to live without a single stain on your reputations among this perverted and crooked generation. Shine like stars across the land. Cling to the word of life so that on the day of judgment when the Anointed One returns I may have reason to rejoice, because it will be plain that I didn’t turn from His mission nor did I work in vain. Even if my lifeblood is to be poured out like wine as a sacrifice of your faith, I have great reason to celebrate with all of you. And for the same reason, you can be glad and celebrate with me.

I hope in the Lord Jesus to send Timothy your way. He will visit soon so that he may report to me how you are doing. To hear all that is going on with you will truly encourage my heart. There is no one like Timothy. What sets him apart from others is his deep concern for you and your spiritual journey. This is rare, my friends, for most people only care about themselves, not about what is dear to the heart of Jesus the Anointed. You know Timothy is genuine in the Lord’s ways. He has been a faithful partner to me as we express the good news, as much as my own flesh and blood would have been. I expect to send him soon, and I will as soon as I see how things turn out here. I trust in the Lord that it won’t be very long before I can come and be with you in person.

But for now, I think it is best to send Epaphroditus home to you. He has become my dear brother in the Lord. We have worked well together and fought great battles together, and he was an encouraging minister to me in my time of need. He could not wait to see you all. He was concerned for you when he found out you knew how sick he really was. In fact, he nearly died. But once again, God was exceedingly kind and covered him with His mercy. And I, too, by His mercy, have been spared sorrow on top of sorrow.

I am so excited to be sending him back to you! I can picture the joy on your faces when he arrives; I can feel my worries falling away. Welcome him joyfully in the Lord. Esteem all spiritual leaders like Epaphroditus because he placed his life in grave danger for the work of the Anointed; he risked his life to serve me when you couldn’t.

The Letter of Philippians, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 12th chapter of the book of Jeremiah that includes Judgment but also a promise of restoration:

Jeremiah: Eternal, You always do what is right

when I bring a complaint Your way.

So now let me put a case before You:

Why do the wicked prosper so much?

Why do all the untrustworthy have it so easy?

You plant them and watch them take root;

You allow them to grow and even bear fruit.

And yet, Your words mean nothing to them, deep down.

Still, You know me, Eternal One; You see what is deep inside me.

You’ve examined my heart,

So why aren’t they brought to justice? Deal with them as sheep

set aside for slaughter, singled out for death.

How long must the land cry out in mourning,

the grasses of the field wither and bake in the sun?

The birds and wild animals have simply vanished,

all because of the wicked living here—

Because they say, “God does not see what will become of us.”

Eternal One: If you are worn out after only running with a few men,

how will you one day compete against horses?

If you stumble on the easy terrain,

how will you manage in the thick brush near the Jordan?

Jeremiah, even your brothers and the rest of your family

are ready to betray you.

Even they cry out for your death; don’t trust any of them,

no matter how nicely they speak to your face.

I have turned away My house,

abandoned My heritage;

I have given My deeply beloved one over to her enemies.

My very own people have acted toward Me like a lion in the wild,

roaring at Me in defiance. For this, I hate her.

Have My own people become like colorful vultures?

Are birds of prey circling all around them?

Gather the wild beasts and bring them on to devour My beloved.

Many shepherds have already destroyed My vineyard;

they have crushed My fields.

My beautiful land of promise has turned into a barren wasteland.

The very ground cries out to Me in this empty and forsaken land;

the whole land is desolate, but no one seems to care.

The destroyers pour over the bare hills in the desert

as the sword of the Eternal devours the land from one end to another.

There is no peace for anyone.

The people planted wheat, but they will reap only thorns.

In the end, there will be nothing to show for all their hard work.

Shame will be their harvest because of the Eternal’s burning anger against them.

The Eternal has this to say:

Eternal One: As for My wicked neighbors so eager to take away the inheritance I gave My people Israel, look! There will come a day when I will uproot them from their lands, and I will take Judah from their midst. But after I have uprooted them from their homelands, I will have mercy on them and restore them to their own lands and their own possessions. And if they diligently learn the ways of My people and trust in Me instead of idols, if they swear by My name saying, “As the Eternal lives,” just as they taught My people to swear by Baal, then I will establish them alongside My people. As for any nation that will not listen to and follow My ways, I will uproot it and destroy it completely.

This is what the Eternal has declared.

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 12 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, August 25 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about being honest:

Teshuvah, or turning to God for life, is - in the present hour - an act of faith, for faith "sees the invisible" and discerns God's presence even as if "through a glass darkly" (1 Cor. 13:12). However, in the end, when everything will be manifest and brought to the light -- every soul will be turned to face God, and consequently every soul will be compelled to confess the truth about who they are. As C.S. Lewis wrote: "In the end that Face which is the delight or terror of the universe must be turned upon each of us either with one expression or with the other, either conferring glory inexpressible or inflicting shame that can never be cured or disguised" (Weight of Glory).

Human beings have a moral imperative, given by God Himself, to receive the truth and to live according to the nature of spiritual reality. Those who reject or suppress the truth, however, are responsible for their actions, as it is written, “No one who practices deceit shall dwell in my house; no one who utters lies shall continue before my eyes” (Psalm 101:7).

Being honest with ourselves is absolutely essential for any sort of authentic spiritual life... "No person is saved except by grace; but there is one sin that makes grace impossible, and that is dishonesty; and there is one thing God must forever and unconditionally require, and that is honesty" (Soren Kierkegaard). Confession means "saying the same thing" about ourselves that God says - and that means not only acknowledging our various sins, transgressions, and iniquities, but also affirming our new identity as the beloved children of God. Saying that God doesn’t love you is a lie as damning as denying His very existence... The great test of faith is whether you know in your heart that you are chosen, beloved, and forgiven by God, despite your many failures and sins.

Today is our opportunity to turn to God and find life. The Lord does not force us to choose life over death, though he does constrain us to choose, since being made in his image and likeness means that our choices are full of eternal and everlasting significance. When God finally appears at the end of the age, there will be no further call to choose to believe in his redemption, for the hour will be past, and our indifference will then mark our fate. Truth is the foundation of reality, and lying is therefore a form of denial of reality – a dangerous denial - since reality invariably proves self-authenticating (John 3:18). [Hebrew for Christians]

and another about forgiveness:

The essence of Torah is to love your neighbor as yourself (Rom. 13:10; Gal. 5:14). Teshuvah means, among other things, understanding how far we are removed from this ideal and how we might move to remedy the breach. This is a daily task, an ongoing duty... But we cannot give away what we don’t have to give, so if we’re deficient in self-love, we will be unable to genuinely love others, too. Part of loving others is the obligation to forgive yourself for your sins. For some people, this might mean “accepting that they are accepted” by God... Real change is difficult -- some would even say impossible -- though with God all things are possible -- including the miracle of a heart of stone turning to flesh.

Forgiving others is a way to be free of their hold over us. It is a letting go of the pain of the past and finding courage to press on in hope. In the Gates of Repentance it is written: ‎"I hereby forgive all who have hurt me, all who have wronged me, whether deliberately or inadvertently, whether by word or by deed. May no one be punished on my account. And as I forgive and pardon those who have wronged me, may those whom I have harmed forgive me, whether I acted deliberately or inadvertently, whether by word or by deed." Amen... It is only when we give up our hurt that we are able to move forward in the realm of the spirit. Faith and forgiveness are therefore intimately linked. Therefore Yeshua taught us to forgive others whenever we pray to the Father (Matt. 6:12).

For this coming year, may it please the LORD to first of all help us to love Him with all of our hearts, and to love others as we love ourselves... May it please Him that we “lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and run with endurance the race that is set before us” (Heb. 12:1). May the LORD renew our minds so that we might discern His will (Rom. 12:2), and may He help us abide in Him -- so that we will not be ashamed at His coming (1 John 2:28). May the new year be good and sweet for us all, and may our righteous deeds increase, like the many seeds of the pomegranate (1 John 2:29).

Hashivenu Adonai elecha ve'nashuvah, chadesh yamenu ke'kedem: “Turn thou us unto Thee, O LORD, and we shall be turned; Renew our days as of old” (Lam. 5:21). [Hebrew for Christians]

8.24.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

August 25, 2021

Preaching the Resurrection

“And with great power gave the apostles witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus: and great grace was upon them all.” (Acts 4:33)

There are multitudes today who believe that Christ’s resurrection was a “spiritual” resurrection, insisting that the idea of a dead body returning to life after three days in the grave is completely unscientific and impossible.

This was not what the apostles preached with great grace and great power, however. They would hardly have been excited about any kind of spiritual resurrection, since everyone— both Jews and the pagan Gentiles—believed in life after death. If that was their message, no one would have doubted, and no one would have cared. Even when the disciples saw the resurrected Christ, they first “supposed that they had seen a spirit” (Luke 24:37). Christ even had to urge them to “handle me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have” (Luke 24:39).

When the disciples finally became convinced of His bodily resurrection, they were quickly transformed into courageous evangelists, willing even to die in support of their glorious message of salvation. The resurrection was, indeed, contrary to scientific law and all human experience, and this very fact proved to them that their Lord was Himself the divine lawgiver and author of all human experience. All other founders and leaders of human religions, ancient or modern, are themselves subject to death, but He alone has triumphed over death. Only the Creator of life can conquer death, and the resurrection proves that Jesus Christ is Creator as well as Savior.

Therefore, when we today, like the apostles of old, proclaim the resurrection of Christ, we know that His name is above every name, and this enables us also to witness with great power, in great grace. HMM

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megwritesfanfiction · 7 years ago

Text

Wild Flowers - Jericho/Raven, Chapter 6/?

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans. I am not making a profit off of this.

A/N: I was stuck on this for awhile. All most rewrote it, but decided I didn’t need to.

Need a little catch up with your mustard? No problem!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

DOGSBANE - Flower of Deceit

Jericho wasn’t sure what was going on.

In his personal opinion, he thought the battle had gone well considering they were up against two large villains. Cinderblock was exactly how he imagined. Big, reckless, and, well, a literal blockhead. He wasn’t sure why the rock giant broke into a jewelry store in the downtown shopping district, but Jericho wasn’t one to judge.

Plasmas, on the other hand, concerned him.

After he was assured that maroon glob wasn’t toxic, Jericho was able to put his ability to use. He locked eyes with the monster, signaling to Raven to put the monster back to sleep. The others has taken down Cinderblock.

Despite the goo, it was pretty simple.

Everyone was unharmed, civilians included.

Even damage to the area was minimal.

So, why was Robin muttering like a crazy person?

They’d been home for about two hours. Jericho and the other Titans had showered, changed, and gotten comfy on the main room couch. The mute found himself resting comfortably on the couch with a carton of orange chicken and fried rice. Chopsticks clinched in his fingers, he watched the masked teen from across the room.

Still dressed in his dirty uniform, he sat the small desk across from the kitchen furiously going through a stack of files.

Penny for your thoughts? Raven smirked. She plopped down on the seat next to him. Dressed in an oversized Gotham City sweatshirt and black leggings, she held her own carton of food in her lap.

Penny? Jericho scoffed. The going rate is at least a quarter.

The empath rolled her eyes, opening her container. The best I can do is beef lo mein. Her lips twisted as she hid her smile, offering him the container.

That works too. He smirked, taking the container from and placing his in her lap.

“Hey!” Beast Boy cried, looking over at the pair. “I nearly lost my hand when I tried to take a piece of your veggie roll, and you’re willingly giving him food! Dude! The hypocrisy!”

Raven wanted to compliment him on his vocabulary choice, but she resisted the urge to. “One, you tried to take a bite from my roll. I don’t want to eat behind you, I don’t know where you’re mouth has been.”

“Seriously, it’s just spit, and our lips have touched before. I don’t see why be taking a bite of your roll is a big deal.”

That caught Jericho’s attention. Oh? He looked at the empath wide eyed, and suddenly interested in the revelation. Really now? You’ve kissed him? What other things are you keeping from me?

Joey… She’d deal with the mute in a little bit. “CPR training doesn’t count, Beast Boy. Though it’s a good thing we’re all certified because you might need to be resuscitated if you keep talking.” CPR doesn’t count as a kiss. It was mandatory training.

“Beast Boy does have a point.” Cyborg shrugged.

Raven raised an eyebrow. “So give him a bite of your food.”

“Not that! And no!”

Starfire nodded. “Agreed. You and New Friend Jericho are quite friendly.” The alien observed.

Raven ignored the rising heat creeping up her face and Jericho’s satisfied grin. The empath shrugged sheepishly, grabbing a piece of orange chicken to silence any comments she’d make.

I’m happy we’re friendly. Jericho grinned cheekily, looking at her bright eyed.

Violet eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

“What did he say?” Cyborg asked, raising a knowing eyebrow.

Oh, one of the, few, benefits of being mute. Jericho could dodge an inquisition, especially when people assumed he was also deaf. He really hoped they never bothered to learn sign language.

“Nothing.” Raven shook her head, eating another bite of his food. You are so lucky we’re friends.

Nope. Jericho shook his head, reaching over and taking piece of chicken from the container she held. I’m lucky I’m cute. He told her smugly, turning his attention back to the television.

Indeed.

The mute couldn’t contain his delight at her agreement.

“Hey, you two,” Cyborg warned. “I can hear you all flirting over there. None of that.” He pointed a fatherly finger at the two of them. “Don’t make me get the hose.”

Raven growled as she continued eating.

“How can you hear them?” The changeling questioned confused.

“After years of watching the dramatic saga that is Robin and Starfire,” Cyborg leaned back into the couch, picking up another chicken wing. “I know flirting,” He eyed the empath and mute knowingly. “Even when it’s silent.”

Jericho looked at the blushing alien and back to the obsessive leader. He looked at the Titan’s and then pointed to Robin sitting at the desk, oblivious to their conversation.

“What’s with him?” Cyborg asked, wondering if that was what the mute was referring to.

Jericho nodded.

“He thinks there is some sort of conspiracy going on.” Beast Boy dismissed.

“Boyfriend Robin does not think the attacks of the Plasmus and the Cinderblock were not random.” Starfire explained, picking up her mustard.

“And since he’s not allowed to lock himself in the evidence room and work for more than two hours a day,” Cyborg shouted, trying to get a reaction out of the masked Titan. “He set up a desk out here to work on his latest Slade theory.”

Jericho felt his heart stop for a moment. Slowly, he lowered his chopsticks into the container of lo mein. Slade? He asked looking at Raven, eyes wide. The mute knew that coincidences existed. It was a common name. So, why was his chest tighten?

Raven nodded, taking another bite of food. “He’s probably number one on our enemy list. Though, we haven’t had direct contact with him for,” She paused, trying to recall. “It’s been over a year now.”

“Which means he can stop obsessing!” Beast Boy shouted.

Robin ignored him as he continued to review the crime scene.

“He’s probably dead by now.” Cyborg shrugged.

“I mean, the guy was already missing body parts when we met him.”

The mute’s head snapped toward the changeling.

Raven shook her head. “He was missing an eye. That’s one part, singular.”

“That we know of.” Beast Boy nodded sagely.

Jericho felt sick. The odds were too small.

“Who knows if he got his body back?” Beast Boy shrugged. “I’d prefer he’d rot, but…”

Jericho slammed his container on the small table in front of them. Getting up, he walked out of the main room as fast and as calmly as he could manage.

Beast Boy blinked owlishly. “Was it something I said?” He looked to metal man, alien, and empath.

Raven set her container down, following the towhead teen. “Probably.” She wasn’t sure it was Beast Boy’s fault.

Who was she kidding? Of course, she could blame it on the changeling.

#teen titans #teen titans fanfiction #jerirae #jericho wilson #raven

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nightblink · 7 years ago

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Blink Reads Oathbringer - Chapters Eight, Nine, and Ten

Chapter Eight - A Powerful Lie

Now I’m thinking that these prologues are possibly Jasnah’s? It’d fit with the whole ‘heretic’ thing.

Oh, Pattern, that… that is not helping. Just let her work with the one healthy coping mechanism that she has.

You say “full” Knight Radiant, but that’s not what you – any of you are yet, Shallan – you still have Ideals left to say.

Can’t sketch it? Artist’s block is one thing, but that feels… foreboding.

Brightlord Brooding-Eyes aaaahahahahahahaha

Mmm, keeping up yet another layer of deception by pretending to the people at large that you’re even a kind of Radiant that you’re not? Smart, but goddamn.

Ohhhh, Shallan, that wasn’t… that’s not actually a ‘lady’ scout, no matter what she may have looked like to you; I’d lay broams on it.

Using the lines of strata like a map! Shallan, I love your eye for detail that gave us this.

That is a fantastic image of Renarin bundled up with tea, talking diplomacy, and I want to draw it.

Dalinar is treating Shallan as if he expects her to have the same amount of experience in these matters as his sons, and that’s not- Dal, she’d barely even left her own family’s manor.

Shallan is, of course, having none of this, but I’m amazed that she got in so smooth a rebuke! Not long ago, back before and even with Jasnah, she’d have quailed under a Look from Dalinar.

Adolin has a point. You did win a staredown with the personification of storms.

!!!! Is Dalinar unconsciously using his Surges? Like Kaladin used to do with attraction-Gravitation?

Now that visual, with the map… damn, that’s amazing. A full hologram! But what was that where the stormlight was “passing between her and Dalinar”? Joint Surge usage? Some kind of combination power? Holy shit, if that’s the case, imagine the possibilities-!

It was. [SCREECHES]

Stormfather-radar. That’s fantastically useful – every time a Highstorm passes over the continent they can get an updated map. Of everywhere.

RENARIN HAVE YOU SEEN THIS TOO

Comfort through contact, ahhh, I’m glad to see you two progressing.

….another murder.

What.

Chapter Nine – The Threads of a Screw

So the murdered soldier was from Sebarial's army, there's… not really any connection there between this guy and Sadreas…?

'Storming Alethi long legs'. Shallan you're going to have to get used to it your betrothed is a foot or more taller than you are. Give into the fact that you'll at least never have to stretch for the top shelf again. Speaking of which, awww, Adolin waiting for her!

ADOLIN YOU'RE TERRIBLE AT TRYING TO BE INNOCENT

not that this was one he did, but still

REACHING FOR TACTILE CONTACT, YESSSS, INDULGE AND REINFORCE MY HEADCANONS

oh shit oh shit oh shit it's exactly the same, exactly, either they're going to pick up on how suspicious that is, or Adolin might eventually be shouldering the blame for more that just the one he's responsible for

Knowing that Alethela was once the 'war nation', essentailly, it makes sense that even when the Alethi don't allow women fighters they still allow them to assist in battle in some ways, where the Vedens don't.

[winces] Adolin, you are far too obvious. Too honest for your own good, and it shows. Shallan is definitely going to pick up on your guilt if you keep this up.

THEY'RE CALLING B4 'THE WINDRUNNERS' I'M SCREAMING

sneaky Renarin – but is he just quiet, or was there something augmenting him, I wonder?

WELL THAT'S IRONIC

It makes sense from Dalinar's point of view, but storms

yeeep, Shallan's already suspicious. But it looks like Renarin might already know

“deceitful as a newborn” ACCURATE

if nothing else, he's going to be intensely focused on finding whomever's committing these other murders, since even if it doesn't exonerate him in the end, it won't be any more people dying like he killed Sadeas

Ten emeralds says that Renarin knows

Chapter Ten – Distractions

Yep, I am definitely thinking at this point that these intros are probably Jasnah's

KALADIN SMILE ALERT

She's not trying to mother you, Kal, she's just being a friend. A friend who fills in the cracks in your soul, at that.

Akanny region – we're getting more detail on Kaladin's homeland and Alethkar in general, yesssss

speaking of worldbuilding, new critters! Gumfrems, I'll have to remember that one. Likely smaller than chulls, even if they resemble them, since there was no mention of them being used as beasts of burden.

Baby spren, now there's an idea! Not possible in the way of humans, but a cute idea nonetheless. Still unsure of spren have anything resembling “family” bonds, though Syl did mention an 'aunt', and calls the Stormfather 'Father' – it's probably just one more thing they picked up from humans.

“Lord Radiant!” well, at least that title doesn't hold all the negative connotations for Kaladin that “Brightlord” has picked up over his time of abuse and slavery

he's actually calling her a Sylblade

!!! There was actually an attack on this town! Finally, perhaps some answers as to why the other villages were left alone!

Looting, interesting, and in Warform. Taking food for travel? And not so much an attack as just taking the grain – nobody died when they did so, even if the guards were injured.

Warform Parshendi, but not red-eyed? Not under Odium's influence? But how?

Syl. Syl, everyone thinks Kaladin's pretty. If even a concussed Dalinar had the presence of mind to note slave!Kaladin's rich curls, he's a looker. The majority of the bridge crews probably still harbor crushes on him.

SYL. LEAVE YOUR DEMIACE HUMAN ALONE ON THIS ONE.

Kaladin likes that way that Shallan is apparently coping, Syl, because he has such a tendency to view people in black and white. He doesn't realize how unhealthily she's actually managing herself.

He's got a point, Syl. Not everyone's into voyeurism. Kaladin is definitely one of those, it turns out.

Straight toward Kholinar, ohhhhh no, I'm getting a Bad Feeling about this…

Oh no, Adolin's visiting the stables. And Sureblood isn't there. Won't be there, ever again.

I'm not crying, you're crying.

You used to visit Sureblood like this all the time, didn't you? Not just for rides, to get out into the wind and revel in the speed and the pounding of hooves, but for the companionship. He chose you not for your blood or rank or skill, but for you.

You really feel the closeness of the brothers with Adolin understanding and interpreting Renarin with the words he's saying along with the words he doesn't say, weaving them together into a whole. And then seeing right through him! 'Rin, you already have enough Ideals sworn to make a Blade? AAAAAHHHHHH

The love and support between these brothers, I swear- This whole scene is gold. Renarin's power, the way Adolin tries to ease his uncertainty, the returned affection with that pulse of perfection

Renarin healed his wrist

Adolin doesn't see himself as whole

#blink reads oathbringer #oathbringer spoilers #just give me an entire book of the kholin brothers being unconditionally loving and supportive of each other #also I'm sticking to my guns that Kal is at least demi on the ace spectrum #that's what makes the most sense to me with what's written

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years ago

Text

@akachankami wanted more Echo in space so you get more Echo in space ;) I hope you enjoy it!

[FF] or [ao3]

Spin Raun Gon

Echo’s eyes remain on the window, every of her movement precisely calculated as she stares out into the dark void that stretches outside. Sometimes, depending on what she’s doing and at which point of its rotation the ring is, she can glimpse pieces of metal. In the darkness of space, they look like looming shadows, the jaws of a mysterious beast trying to challenge them. Raunon is the biggest beast though and nothing exterior can hurt it. The danger comes from within.

Six months and she still is not used to the humming of the beast’s heart.

If she places her hand against a wall, she will feel it, a barely there tremor that she has come to learn means safety. It stopped twice already and it has almost meant their death. Without Raven…

She hears the footsteps long before the other woman appears on the threshold of the room Echo has claimed for herself. She doesn’t stop moving.

She looked but she has found no sword nor bow on Raunon and she is still uncomfortable with Skaikrus guns. They are too obvious a weapon when everyone goes unarmed anyway. She is a part of the kru because Bellamy declared so but she needs the others to trust her, to rely on her, and they would not take well to her walking around with a gun at her belt. She found knives but nothing that she would ever consider hunting with. She keeps one in her boot all the same, it never hurts to be prepared.

She doesn’t need weapons anyway.

She is the weapon.

Or at least she used to be before space stole her breath. Even then, as cold sweat runs down her nape, her muscles cramp and protest because her lungs can’t provide enough oxygen. Training always makes her light-headed and yet she still trains, day after day. She abandoned any thought of actual fighting because that leaves her drained but she keeps her body in shape, sharpens it like she would have done with her sword or the point of her arrows…

A warrior takes care of her weapons. It is the first rule of war.

Spin raun gon isn’t her training of choice. It is slow and to an exterior eye it looks like an odd sort of dancing. It is in some ways. Taught to warriors whose stealth is as important as their strength. It is not meant as a path to fighting but as a way to ground oneself, to learn balance and reach peace of mind. She rejected it early enough and cannot remember all of its moves now but it is all she has and so she clings to it.

It is enough to feel the strain in her muscles and to make her body sing to the tune of war.

What she wishes for, more than anything else, is an opponent. Bellamy humors her sometimes – and inevitably loses to her superior skills despite his stronger built – but not often. Raunon isn’t a place for warriors.

The distinctive footsteps finally stop on the threshold and Echo waits for Raven to speak. It isn’t naitaim yet but it will be soon. The lights will dim and the night will start and Echo will roam the corridors like she always does, what started as an idle stroll having turned into a patrol in the last few months.

She doesn’t know why she insists because there is no enemy on Raunon, no one to haunt the steel corridors but the seven of them, and no threat from outside, none she would be able to beat anyway – they have Raven and Monty for those, brains over strength. The metal beast keeps them safe. And yet she patrols. Habits.

“You will have to teach me how to do that, one day.” Raven says.

Echo doesn’t spare her a glance, focused on the window and the angle of her leg as she balances on one foot, arms pushing high above her head. Short of breath. Always too short of breath.

She can’t remember what real air feels like when it flows freely in one’s lungs.

“Harper joins me sometimes.” she answers. “Yu laik monin. You are welcomed.”

It has been difficult for her to bond with the rest of the kru. Bellamy was the easy one. Harper was surprising but she is the one who offered a hand first and Echo took it. It took some time for Monty to learn to trust her but she likes to think they are comrades now. It stings maybe that Emori, who is the closest thing to home she has, keeps away but Emori and John always live on the fringe of the group, always keep to themselves and she does not resent it because she is not singled out, simply not a part of their world. Raven is the one who pauses a challenge though.

Even now, she can’t really tell if they are friends.

They are not enemies.

There is no room for enemies on Raunon.

Survival means cooperating.

And they are all in the same kru. It does not mean they all have to get along but that does mean they have to protect each other. Tempers flare sometimes but for the most part living in space is difficult enough that they do not waste time fighting each other.

“I don’t think I’d be very good at it.” the woman snorts with bitterness.

Despite her will to focus, Echo’s eyes dart to the metal contraption that encases Raven’s leg. It puzzles her how open the skai people are about their weaknesses. It makes them vulnerable and they don’t even notice.

Sometimes, she thinks it’s a good thing they have her.

She doesn’t show her weaknesses, she doesn’t allow herself to be vulnerable.

And if something or someone ever tries to attack them, it is what will save them all.

She is Bellamy’s wormana and she will not fail her king, even if he refuses to admit that it is who he is to their kru.

“You won’t know until you try.” she dismisses, planting her two feet back of the floor.

Her body yearns for some real action but she is already sweaty and cold and she knows better than to push too hard. She passed out once, because there is not enough air to sustain her body if she goes past a certain point. She can run precisely fifteen minutes before feeling nauseous – and that if she keeps a tame pace.

She hates feeling this weak.

“Yu gaf ai in?” she asks, picking up her towel to wipe her face. Then, she forces herself to translate because not everyone speaks her language on Raunon and Raven is of those who is the least interested in learning. She hates this too. The second it always takes her to make sure she understood them right. “Do you need me?”

She has muscles and Raven sometimes takes advantage of that when she works on a project to try and make their life easier. She doesn’t mind helping, it gives her a purpose.

“We’re eating in Earth Monitoring station tonight.” Raven tells her. “We’re having a movie night. Monty and I managed to divert enough power.”

She frowns at the other young woman.

“Movie?” she repeats, unfamiliar with the word.

“It’s like a story but with images that move.” Raven shrugs. “You’ll see. It’s fun.”

Fun, to her, is a good sword fight but she doubts Raven would understand so she holds her tongue. She observed already that her kru seems desperate to find fun anywhere they can get it. Monty perfects moonshine bash after moonshine bash – and this is a hobby she, in fact, does not object to – and Murphy urges for them all to party. Once, he made loud music blurt out of Raunon’s every speakers and instead of punishing him for it, they all started dancing and laughing like children on the loose.

“What kind of story?” she asks, curious despite herself. It seems she can never run out of things to be puzzled by. Space is full of them. She sometimes wonders if they were just as thrown with the ground as she is in their metal beast.

Raven shrugs and sits on the bed while Echo changes her shirt for a clean one, not bothered in the least by the other woman’s presence. “I don’t know, it’s Monty’s pick.”

That doesn’t explain much, she thinks, freeing her hair from the shirt’s collar. She’s been braiding it lately. Tight small cornrow braids that keeps it out of her eyes. There is time to waste in the sky and not much to do. It is a practical warrior hairdo, of course, but it also looks pretty and she cannot deny it flatters her vanity.

“Is there news from the ground?” she asks even if it is pointless. Twice a day at the same designated times, Raven tries to contact the bunker and twice a day she fails. If she had managed, Echo would have heard about it by now. And yet she still asks every time she sees Raven. It is a part of keeping hope that it would one day change. They all do the same thing.

“No.” Raven shakes her head, her face closing off. “It doesn’t mean they’re dead.”

“It doesn’t mean they’re alive either.” she opposes.

Isn’t that a weird thought. They don’t know and thus they are both alive and dead. There is no mourning them and yet there aren’t many reasons to hope. She does not like the uncertainty.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” Raven snorts. It’s not quite meant as a joke. There is the same underlying tension underneath that always ends up in their exchanges.

Echo killed her friends and she understands the other woman’s resentment. Raven is not a warrior, she does not understand that she did what she had to like Bellamy does. People who aren’t warriors don’t forgive as easily.

“Why did you come?” she asks, unwilling to play a game of deceit. She doesn’t like being on the defense when she can attack.

“To tell you we’re having a movie night.” Raven lies, using the edge of a nearby table to haul herself up. Echo does not miss the wincing when she puts her weight on her bad leg. She waits. She waits because it is not why the other woman really came and, surely enough, Raven rolls her eyes and folds her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t like you.”

“Rait bitam.” she accepts. Fair enough.

She isn’t sure Raven understands her words, the woman studies her for a long time and then shrugs. “I told Bellamy I would give you a chance.”

That surprises her, all the more so if she means it. She is a bit insulted Bellamy is going around behind her back to talk about her but a part of her also is warmed by the thought that he worries about her enough to do that. She is part of his kru. He said so and she believed him but it is good to feel it.

She supposes the way she averts her eyes betrays her and, really, she should have known better. She is slipping. From wormana to a ridiculous village girl with a crush.

“He likes you.” Raven says and there is a hint of warning in there.

Not for the first time, she wonders if there is something going on between them but she never saw any tangible proof of an attachment or an arrangement.

“He loves Wanheda.” she counters.

And it will be some time before he is done grieving for her death, she knows. When he does, she will be waiting. She can be patient. All the best hunters are. When he does, she will be there and she will conquer. But not before.

“We all loved Clarke.” Raven states, the tension briefly leaving her shoulders, replaced by a familiar sorrow Echo understands only too well.

She lost too many good commanders, too many good friends.

“Not like he did.” she whispers quietly. Not a question but a statement.

“No. Not like he did.” the other woman admits, her face hardening again. “Don’t hurt him or I will kick your ass.”

There is little chances that Raven can actually kick her ass but Echo smiles all the same because she appreciates the sentiment. It is good to know she is not the only one looking out for their leader’s wellbeing. Maybe they can bond over that, she thinks, over their friendship with Bellamy.

She bows her head in acknowledgement and Raven smiles back. Maybe it’s a little forced, maybe she’s trying a little too hard, but when the woman lights up like this, there is no resisting being swept by the whirlwind. Raven’s mind goes too fast and too far for most people to follow.

“So. Movie night.” Raven declares, grabbing her shoulder to nudge her toward the door. “You’re sitting next to me so I can explain and make fun of you when you don’t get the story.”

She is not an idiot and she is offended by the implication that she won’t understand a simple story – even if it’s likely to be true if the story is based on the ground from before Praimfaya – but she can recognize an offer of peace when she sees one.

It is an olive branch she intends to seize.

#echo #echo kom azgeda #raven reyes #the 100 fic #the 100 #becho #vaguely #eko kom nou kru

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