#however if the anger I have for myself helps me torture those souls that deserve it

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

No Arthur today other than a brief good morning.

I am staring off for a second though and decide to speak to the bright agent.

*article on deep fakes*

Agent: so they are gonna come out and say it's been analyzed and it's a deep fake.

Me:

*sighs*

Ok, so all TV shows are deep fakes bro

Agent: what do I mean?

Me: Ever since the Honeymooners, bro. All Of Them

Let it sink in

*one punch man emote*

"with my own flavor thrown in"

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

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For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

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Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

[kitkatopinions]

I feel the need to hear your opinion on this since this is something I've been thinking about recently, and it's how crwby handles complex relationships/abuse in their show... It's infuriating.

I can't tell if they genuinely think they are writing this in a good way or if they know they're half asss-ing it and don't care since the fandom will eat it up anyways. Two big examples that come to mind for me in the last volume are emerald & cinder and whitley & jacques. In both instances the the victim never gets a moment of closure or a moment of breaking away from their abuser, nor are either victims allowed to show any sort of 'hesitance' (for a lack of a better term) related to their abuse.

Emerald (despite being all over cinder before Midnight), just conveniently forgets about her for the finale. Same for whitley. He just completely forgets about jacques (the man who manipulated him from birth) the moment weiss hugs him. On a shallow level, watching a victim pay no mind to their abuser is satisfying, but it being so immediate is just unrealistic and takes away from the pain that we are supposed to think these characters have suffered.

One of the worst things about suffering from abuse is how is affects the victims even when they have left the abusive relationship, but crwby seems to want to erase that completely from characters who should experience that for plot convenience.

It seems like the lesson learned from this is "if you were abused, just get over it and be convenient to our heroes or else!" And it's pretty gross imo.

Thoughts?

I thought that I would put these two asks together and take this opportunity to talk about the abuse victims in RWBY and how they're handled. I've tried to think long and hard about what to say about this, because this is an important topic to me and something that's personal for me. I'm an abuse survivor, but I have a complicated relationship with that part of myself and I'm never really comfortable talking about it much. But despite the fact that I've experienced abuse, I recognize that I'm not a professional sensitivity editor, not a therapist, and not someone who's studied the effects of abuse.

I'm simply writing this based on my own feelings and what I've picked up witnessing other abuse victims discuss their own feelings about abused character. There will be RWBY criticism below the keep reading. Please keep in mind that I'm not speaking for all abuse survivors and am only trying to articulate my own feelings in regards to this issue.

The first thing to note is that there isn't one, correct, right way to write an abuse victim in my opinion. Lots of people have different reactions and responses to abuse, the way they were abused is often also different, causing different reactions.

In the first anon, it's noted that Emerald and Whitley both seem to move on from their abuse quickly and with very little effect on them or their stories. Many abuse victims put their experiences on the back burner or 'in a box' to deal with later, or mask and pretend that they're alright or that their abuse just didn't happen. Some of them let their feelings or their anger simmer over time. There are also abuse victims who do just... Move on with relative ease. I'd imagine that's very rare though. (again, I'm not not an expert or any sort of psychologist.)

In the same way, an abuse victim becoming an abuser in their own interactions is something that one hundred percent happens. Cinder, Salem, Adam, and even Blake and Winter have all acted in abusive ways towards the people around them (though obviously Blake and Winter acted much less abusive than any of the villains mentioned.) It might be very hard for abuse victims to not fall back into those patterns of abuse that they've suffered, especially if they go through it at an early age. I'm not very comfortable talking about my own experiences, but myself and my siblings have all had to fight down toxic, hurtful traits that we picked up either through emulating or through survival. And it's hard to do that. Portraying characters who have been abused that lost that fight and might have abusive tendencies or slip themselves is - to me at least - sometimes even helpful in working through my own feelings.

And there are definitely one hundred percent abuse victims who feel like the way they were treated is deserved, that they 'earned' it, that they must 'make up for it.' Oz is in this category. There's nothing wrong with the concept of a character who feels responsible for their abuser or the hurt their abuser has caused to others, there’s nothing wrong with a character who tends to act as though everything is their fault and who thinks very poorly of themselves.

In theory. But the problem is that in application, there are a lot of pitfalls and struggles that come with writing for abuse victims. Understanding, thoughtfulness, and care are not the RWBY writers’ strength, and any time you portray real life issues that strongly impact the real life people involved in them, you have to be aware and careful with the messages you’re sending. This is obviously very important when someone writes for any minority or oppressed group or the issues that they face, but it’s also important to remember when you write for abuse victims, because they do have stigmas around them and deal with stereotypes and harmful portrayals as well. Let’s look at what I consider some harmful or hurtful pitfalls when it comes to abused characters.

Are the abused characters treated as the victims they are? If the abuse a character faces is treated as comical, treated as unimportant, or treated as deserved, that’s an obvious major flaw. Sad to say, but RWBY does not pass this. On two separate occasions, a character is hit by someone close to them in a way that clearly causes them some pain, with Blake hitting Sun across the face for following her, and Winter hitting Weiss for answering a question incorrectly and again for failing in her training (I tend to be more sympathetic towards Blake’s situation, as it is more gray with her clearly thinking Sun had stalked her which is a clear trigger from her own abuse, but this is an explanation, not an excuse and the fact that it was framed as funny rather than something Blake shouldn’t have done and should apologize for is the problem.) They also do not treat Ozpin like the victim when Qrow punches him in the face, having no one call Qrow out for it and having him never express guilt or try to apologize for it. Yes, I know Ozpin had retreated, but they never showed Qrow even make an effort to get Ozpin to come back so he could apologize. . They also ‘redeem’ Hazel and give him a ‘partially right’ storyline despite his openly beating Ozpin, unfairly blaming him for the death of his sister, and insisting that Ozpin deserved to be tortured. On top of this, despite having been horribly abused by the SDC, Adam isn’t treated with even an ounce of sympathy or understanding and Jacques Schnee and the SDC is treated like a more comical-ish nuisance in season seven and eight. This is greatly flawed. Hitting someone because they lied to you or kept secrets from you is not okay, hitting someone because they said something you don’t like is not okay. This should not be treated as funny and it shouldn’t be treated as the fault of the person who was hit for not being a good enough friend.

Are the abused characters mostly villains, when the heroes have never faced it? The reason for this is obvious, although it’s valid to have a villain be an abuse victim, it’s never alright to villainize abuse victims. Making the majority of your bad guys abuse victims and your good guys have positive relationships is in my opinion, harmful. Point for RWBY, this is not the case for their show. Mercury, Salem, and Cinder on the bad side are all abuse victims with Raven being a possible, but unconfirmed abuse victim as well. While Weiss, Blake, Ozpin, and Whitley are also abuse victims, with Qrow and May both being possible, but unconfirmed abuse victims, and Winter and Emerald are both abuse victims who were on the side of a villain and then turned good.

Is the abuse more severe in the ‘bad’ characters and lighter in the ‘good’ characters? If the abuse that the good guys faced is mostly lighter things and the abuse that the villains suffered is worse and more severe, that might send some bad messages that people who suffer more are automatically worse people, or ‘unsalvageable’ or ‘too broken,’ as opposed to the people that ‘there’s still hope for.’ Unfortunately, I think RWBY is almost a tie? We’ve never seen Weiss or Emerald suffer more than a hit, we don’t know for sure that Whitley or Winter were ever victims of physical abuse. Ozpin and Blake’s abuse is worse, however, as they are hunted down by their abusers who attempt to murder them, make them suffer, and hurt their loved ones. They also were heavily emotionally manipulated and victim blamed by their abusers. And on the villain side, Mercury was beat by his father who hated him and stole his semblance (an extension of your soul, I believe, in canon,) and the abuse led to the loss of his limbs. Cinder was forced to work hard labor by her abusive employer and the ‘stepsisters’ treated her badly, and she was physically electrocuted. We see her abuse extend to Salem using her Grimm arm to hurt her, copying the effects of the necklace. Adam was also a child laborer who worked in terrible conditions who got his face branded by his employer, in the SDC, which had to have been anti-faunus charged due to his bull horns. We don’t see Salem ever physically abused, but know that she was mistreated, isolated, and neglected by her ‘cruel’ father. So it’s not quite a tie, there are more severely abused characters amongst the villains than the heroes, but this is close enough that I don’t consider this much of a strike against them.

In the villains, is the abuse they faced given as ‘reason’ for their villainy? As I said before, villainizing abuse victims isn’t the way to go. A good way to avoid this - I think - is not have abuse be the sole reason for someone’s fall into a life of crime or cruelty. This is something that RWBY... Fails at imo. When showing us Mercury’s backstory, we’re introduced to him through seeing that he had just killed his abuser who cost him his legs, and then gets recruited by Cinder who at the very least likely emotionally and physically abused him the same way she did with Emerald, leading to the conclusion that the only reason he’s there at all is due to abuse. However, he’s just a teen and it’s possible that (like Emerald) he’ll be redeemed. A much more condemning story to talk about is Cinder’s. After people had been clambering for a Cinder backstory since volume three, RWBY finally showed us one. But it doesn’t include Cinder meeting Salem, why she joined her, her proving herself, none of that. Instead, Cinder’s backstory was entirely focused on her abusive situation as a child, entirely focused on her suffering. Cinder killing her abusers and then killing the teacher who decided to arrest her for getting herself out of her abusive situation was portrayed as the only needed backstory, the explanation to why she’s a power hungry, abusive, cruel, selfish, and just plain evil person. ‘She was abused’ is the explanation for why Cinder is where she is and why she is who she is in RWBY. That’s highly problematic to me.

In the heroes, are they “the Perfect, Sanitized Abuse Victims?” As I said before, there is no one type of abuse victim, but if someone has several abuse victims and they’re all either submissive, sad, and self-doubting, but gentle and caring and soft or dropped their abuser like a hotcake and never looked back, never seem affected, never really talk about it after they left... That’s bothersome to me personally. Measuring how RWBY is in this particular subject is... A little harder than I thought it would be. Let’s start by looking at the most prevalent abuse victim, Blake. She’s one of the reasons why this is hard to gauge, because for the first five seasons, Blake was deeply flawed and clearly affected by her abuse in ways that made her ‘unappealing.’ Blake was cynical, stubborn, cold, hard to get to know, she didn’t trust easily, she lashed out at her friends regularly, ran from her problems, made choices for her friends, and had a very negative self image. This didn’t stop her from being a good character and friend with a lot of good sides, too, and she had real, important friendships. This was - to me - a really great portrayal of someone clearly affected by their trauma, with lots to work on, who was still a good person. Some of her faults and problems started to get resolved in a natural way through her journey with Sun in volumes four and five, but when season six came around, many of Blake’s other traits suddenly vanished. No longer stubborn, independent, or cynical, and no longer standing up for herself, or really displaying her temper or hardheadedness or her struggles with getting to know people... Blake became more submissive, sad, self-doubting, but gentle, caring, and soft. Sigh. As the first ask mentioned, Whitley and Emerald both seemed to drop their abusers quickly the second they were removed from their lives again. it’s also worth noting that Whitley was treated with nothing but coldness and contempt by Weiss until he ‘proved himself’ by doing something selfless. Weiss did more or less drop Jacques the moment she left her house in V4, only mentioning him or her experiences when she’s using it to talk about Blake, and when she confronted him again in V7, she did so as someone who is proving she no longer cares. Ozpin seems to be the only one still unable to move on from his abuse and the ‘unappealing’ abuse victim. The first anon is right, there’s something satisfying with seeing an abuse victim move on like their abuser didn’t matter. But when almost all your abuse victims do, and one of the only other ones is turned into a submissive and soft support based / romance based character, and the only really ‘unappealing’ abuse victim is someone we’re supposed to see as ‘gray’... There’s something off there, in my opinion.

Were the abuse victims treated respectfully and thoughtfully by their friends, and if not, were they portrayed as wrong? This probably isn’t something that really even needs an explanation. Abuse victims should be able to set their own boundaries and tell their stories only when they want, when they feel comfortable, Their friends should be understanding of this and not force anything from them. In the case of Blake and Weiss, this is handled really well! Their friends let them talk about their experiences in their own time, and they’re understanding and validate their feelings when it comes up (much more common with Blake than with Weiss, who like I said, seemed to move on from her dad quickly after she left.) However, when it comes to Oz... This is all wrecked. Although unintentional (no one knew how deeply tied up with Salem Ozpin was or how intimate the memories they were going to watch were,) our main characters still forced Ozpin’s deepest and most personal secrets out of him in a fit of upset while he was tearfully begging them not to. He was forced to relive his most traumatic experiences in hi-def with other people watching with him, all his secrets and all his abuse wrenched away from him in what was clearly a very painful way. And then no one showed Ozpin even the slightest bit of sympathy or understanding for what he’d gone through, and no one ever apologized for what they had forced him to relive. In fact, Team RWBY were clearly displayed as in the right, and Oz was displayed as completely wrong for not trusting them implicitly. He had to apologize to them, which they acted begrudgingly accepting of as if they hadn’t shouted at an abuse victim after forcing him to relive all his worst experiences.

Are some abuse victims portrayed as bad for things that other abuse victims aren’t portrayed as bad for? Like the second ask says, in RWBY, Cinder and Mercury are treated as villains for having killed their abusers and Cinder is almost arrested for it, it’s considered a step in the direction of their villainy. But Blake is (rightfully) treated as the victim who was forced, who had no choice, who just wanted the abuse to stop. This is hypocritical and fundamentally flawed. I think this is a reflection of the fact that Cinder and Mercury are meant to be ‘bad’ abuse victim, who had violent tendencies and anger issues, and were already featured as bad guys before their backstory’s dropped, whereas Blake was meant to be a better abuse victim who (by season six) was starting to get written as a soft girl who just wanted to help her friends.

All in all, although there’s some things that I think that RWBY did well enough, I definitely think that I would consider their portrayal of abuse victims to be lacking. This is just my opinion and the way I feel about the writing, but there are a lot of ways to look at it. I think overall, I just really wish that the RWBY writers had been a little more sensitive and spent a little longer focusing on the character arcs involved in abuse recovery. (There’s still a chance for Whitley, Weiss, and Emerald to get more focus in volume ten, though, so long as the writers don’t timeskip!)

[valkyriesryde]

Release the Hounds {2/?}

Chapter Two: The Meadows

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: The three judges of the gates of the Underworld are Hades link to Olympus. They help her rule over the souls and Steve knows it’s his first option to reach out to her.

Warnings: ? I don’t think so, bit of religious talk but that’s every chapter lmao

Word Count: 1760

A/N: A little insight to the Underworld, see if you can guess which MCU character the judges are! 

Series Masterlist ~ Masterlist

~~~~~~~

The Underworld is no place for the living. Stories of it are whispered around Olympus and the mortal world. Stories of pits of lava and torture around every corner; of screams and pleads for mercy that carry out and sound like a melody to those who work there and especially the one who ruled it. Rarely was her name spoken aloud, rarely was she called anything but ‘the Queen’ or ‘her’ or ‘she’. Some were brave, the ones that didn’t  fear the consequences of their words. They called her ‘Satan’ and ‘the Devil’ they spread the rumours that everything she walked on had the life sucked out of it. They talk of her as if they would never meet her, she never set foot in Olympus anyway they thought, but they were wrong. Eventually everyone meets the Queen of the dead, everyone ends up on Charon’s ferry and meets with the judges.

Everyone finds their way to the meadows.

That's right, the meadows. There’s no rivers of lava, there are no deep dark caves that souls never come out of again. The sun rises, and then the moon follows him. There are birds and yes every spider that has been mercilessly killed for taking residence in a child's room. There’s flowing grass and a slight breeze no matter the weather. The fields sit alongside each other.

Elysium field, a meadow flush and green, littered with statues of heroes and beasts that have fallen. Bodies frozen in time, gifts from Medusa in exchange for the freedom of her soul. Those that reside are the best of the best, heroes who died in war, Heracles and Perseus, the men and women who risked their lives for a cause of men in power. They lived in the meadow of heroes. Those who led a life of charity, the ones who redeemed themselves more than they ever needed. This is where they resided. Rhadamanthus walked slowly, the grass slipping through his fingers and the wind, warm and moving through his silver hair. This was the meadow he looked after, every morning Rhadamanthus walked through the field and made sure the souls were at peace, he listened to their stories and laughed at their jokes. It was clear that he was favored by them, he’d formed friendships with the souls in the Elysium field.

On the opposite end of Elysium field lies the pits that the olympians fear, Tartarus, and for good reason. Gods don’t die, they bleed but never die. That does not mean they cannot pay for their crimes. The Titans know this too well. They are the pleas for mercy the gods talk about. The screaming of anger, to let them go or face their wrath. But Minos puts them to sleep. He spreads his wings and he stands above them where they cannot reach. He is her second in command. He is the one she trusts most to do the task nobody wants. He keeps the Titans at bay and he is the final vote when the souls come to the gates.

Between the good and the bad sat the Asphodel Meadow, where the majority of souls resided. It was larger than the others, cramped in places where generations of families had found each other. It was the queen's favourite place. She didn’t look over them, but every morning she sat with them, she walked through the meadow and felt them around her. Aeacus always joined her. She helped souls find their family, she helped them understand what was happening to them. She listened to their stories and knew every soul by name. Aeacus was kind hearted, her smile rested the ones that got restless, however if any stepped out of line she was not afraid to set them in their place.

That was what the gods really feared. It wasn’t the pit, well, it was, but that wasn’t all it was. They feared their power. Hades’ power was secret, she hadn’t used it to its full extent since the war, she refused to. The gods were in fear of what could cause her to snap. They feared Rhadamanthus and the power he must have to keep up with the heroes. They feared Minos, for if he can keep the Titans at bay who’s to say what he could do to a lesser god. They feared Aeacus because none knew how she managed to keep so many souls under her control.

Steve wanted to know what was so terrifying. He watched them in the market, for once a week they came to Olympus to gather supplies and hold meetings on Hades’ behalf. His hand in his pocket as he gripped the letter that he’d written. Bucky had some points and given the time to sleep on it he realised he can’t just go straight to Hermes to get to the Underworld. He needed to be allowed there, he needed an invitation, a reason to go to Hermes to get safe passage. So he wrote her a letter.

He watched them in the corner of his eye, picking at the fabrics in the storefront and trying to get the courage to talk to them.

“It’s rude to stare.” A voice came behind him and Steve felt a chill run down his spin and the smell of soot around him. He felt a mix of emotions, strength, calmness, and power seeped through him as he turned around and faced the three judges of the Underworld.

“Lay off him, everyone stares at us.” Aeacus chimed and she smiled sweetly at him, she was the source of the calmness. Minos was power, his arms crossed over his chest, pushing his biceps out and the wings on his back twitching as if he were on guard. That left Rhadamanthus, strength, it made sense to Steve, that strength would be associated with the Elysium field. But he didn’t look strong like Hephaestus or Zeus, his strength was mental and destructive and Steve felt his own sense of destruction rise within him. Good gods do not destroy things his mother’s words rang in his mind.

“He wants to talk to us,” Minos narrowed his eyes at Steve and he felt small under his gaze like when he was younger, the letter now crumbled in his clenched hand.

“I have a letter for Hades. I was hoping you could pass it along.” The three looked between each other before back at Steve and the men puffed their chests. He saw a glint of red out of the pockets of Aeacus’ coat and gulped.

“We don’t associate with Demeter,” Rhadamanthus snarled.

“Tell your mother to go to Thor if she wants something from Hades.” Minos turned and began to walk away with Rhadamanthus but Aeacus stayed put.

She tilted her head at Steve and held out her hand to him. Slowly Steve placed the letter in her open palm, slightly crumbled but written in neat writing on the front ‘Hades’.

I write this letter to tell you about the happenings within the walls of Olympus. Poseidon Loki has raised the possibility of you joining the council and a proposition for a vote has been put forward. They plan on holding a debate about the matter in two weeks time.

I only know about this from overhearing conversations and my mother’s complaints. She is determined to not let you back onto Olympus grounds let alone into the council. I think this is wrong. At the very least you deserve a say in the matter. I understand you refuse to come to Olympus currently because of the stigma against you and so I want to, if possible, change the people’s opinions of you.

Or at least, if you allow me to, speak on your behalf at the debate.

I know you and my mother do not get along and I want to make sure you’re aware that she has no idea I’m doing this. But I believe you deserve a say and I think the council would benefit from your input as a whole.

Yours,

Steve, god of spring

~~~~~~~~

Steve’s home was much what you would expect from the god of spring. It sat on the outskirts of Olympus, easy access to the mortal world which he and Demeter visited often. During the day he tended to his gardens, he sat in his gazebo and drew, he imagined a way of life where he didn’t have nymphs coming to check on him every hour. Where he had freedom to roam where he pleased.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ruffling of leaves, it was only half past there were no nymphs due and he knew Demeter had gone out. Steve was on guard, his hand snaked under the blanket beside him for the dagger he kept close. And then it popped out, a small doberman with one floppy ear and its tongue hanging out its mouth.

“What brings you to my garden small guy?” he picked up the puppy who immediately situated himself on Steve’s lap and looked up at him. Steve noticed the red collar around his neck, “Spot?” and the dog’s tail started wagging, then he saw the small rolled note above the name tag, delicately placed in the collar’s clip.

God of Spring,

You’re brave to write to me. Not often do I receive letters from Olympus let alone from sons of those that live to work against me. Thank you for your letter and the information it possesses. But there is nothing that can be done.

The council will meet, they will decide and my fate in their presence is not up to us.

Thank you again for your concern, myself and the Underworld appreciate it any time we are thought in such a way as you think of us.

Yours,

Hades, Queen of the Underworld and god of the dead

“She doesn’t want to fight?” He looks between the letter and Spot, the letters on his nametag shifting and morphing into something else, Greek, ‘Cerberus’ it read. “She sent her trusted companion to give me this, why would she not just ignore it?”

Steve had to know more, he needed to convince Hades to meet with the council or at least sit in on the debate in two weeks. He wasn’t going to be able to convince her through letters. That’s why he found himself in Hermes closet, plucking a pair of winged sandals from the floor and hiding them under a pile of his clothes until nightfall. A small daffodil sprouting from where they once sat.

~~~~~~

Chapter Three: Nothing More to Say

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

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[animepreferences]

P R E F E R E N C E #4 - U N P R E T T Y

A K U T A G A W A

“You can’t just keep running away from me.” You would finally break the deafening silence, your hand grasping onto his wrist preventing him from walking away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Akutagawa would argue stubbornly, ripping his hand away from you. “This. This is exactly what I’m talking about. The second things get uncomfortable, you leave me. You leave me here to worry, to fret, to make myself sick over whether or not you’re safe.” Towards the end of your statement, your voice would grow thick with emotion, the tears betraying you as they rushed to the surface of your eyes. You didn’t like arguing with him. You didn’t like spending your limited time being upset with one another, but this was necessary. Communication was necessary. “I’m going crazy, Aku. Just please. Please let me in and then maybe I could understand, maybe I could help. I just feel like you’re holding me captive here,” Akutagawa would let out a dark, humorless snort as he would turn around to stare at you menacingly. “Captive? Prisoner? Worry? What you don’t understand is that I’m trying to keep you safe. There is a big fat target on my back at all times, Y/N. And because you’re stupid enough to associate with me, that means there’s one on your back as well. Do you have any idea how much I worry about you? How often I rack my brain trying to assure that your safety comes first?” His words were laced with desperation, his hard exterior crumbling before your eyes as you watched him deteriorate. This was the first time he had really let his guard down to tell you all this. “Aku, I can take care of myself—“

“I don’t think you understand that you are my life now, Y/N. I will protect you at all costs. I will do whatever it takes. You-You don’t see the monsters I see everyday, you don’t know of how ugly this world really is. The only reason why I know is because I am the ugly and the evil.” Dropping his head in his hands, your mouth would drop. How could he say that about himself? “You are not ugly and evil. You’re good. Your heart is warm, and your soul is pure. You’ve just been through a lot and have some wounds to heal and that’s why I’m here.” Lifting his chin with your thumb and forefinger, you would be surprised by the tears that trickled down his cheeks. “I just wish you knew how much you mean to me. I’m not doing all of this to make you feel imprisoned, I’m just trying to protect you.” He would sniffle, tortured eyes locking on your own. “I know you are. I’m sorry for getting upset with you. I just need an explanation as to why all of this is necessary, Aku, you understand, correct?” You would ask, watching as he nodded his head slowly. “I just don’t want to lose you.” He would whisper softly, his eyes darting away from yours that were filled with compassion and understand that he just felt he didn’t deserve. “You’re never gonna lose me.” Were your last words before you pressed your lips to his, electricity radiating through both of your body’s.

-

D A Z A I

“I can see so much going on in that head of yours.” You would smooth the wrinkles between his furrowed brows, your fingertips gently tracing down his face. “And yet, you continue to selfishly keep me out. Quit leaving me in the dark, Dazai. Please let me know the real you.” Your pleading words would cause him to wince, his eyes clamping shut in pain. You wanted to know the real him, but were you prepared? Prepared to know who he really was? Prepared to know what he’d done? Prepared to know that he himself was a killer? “There are things that are better unheard and unsaid sometimes.” Turning back to his desk, his face white as a ghost, you would stare at him first in shock then with anger. “You know what? Enough.” Slamming his laptop closed and pushing the papers off the desk in a blinding rage, you would swing his chair around so that he was forced to look at you. “I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of not being able to help you. Enough of watching the pain in your eyes knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do to help you recover from the things that you have seen. I want to help you. I don’t care if you think I’ll see you differently, I don’t care if you expose me to something that you don’t think I’m prepared for, all I care about is you and you alone. And I’m exhausted of trying to read between the lines. I’m not Rampo, Dazai. You need to free yourself at once and tell me before it’s too late because I swear to god if I have to be the one that buries you six feet under, I’m going to piss on your grave.” These were words he had never knew you were capable of saying, the harshness intertwined with the urgency showing him that you were no longer going to endure being left in the dark. It was words he never wanted to hear, but words he needed to. Words to know that you meant business for once and for all. Dropping before you to his knees, he would clutch your slacks with his fists, tears racking through his body as he hid his face in your knees. “D-Dazai...”You would say in surprise never seeing him before in this state. Hands finding your way to his head, your fingers would stroke through his shaggy locks desperately trying to calm him but it wouldn’t let out. Soon, you would join him on the ground where he would tell you his story without breaking eye contact the entire time, fearful the moment he looked away you would have time to perceive him as the monster he knew he was. “You are a different person now, my love. Nothing will ever change what you mean to me. Your heart is pure.” You would utter, pulling him to your chest as you comforted his tortured soul. It was not too often Dazai allowed you to coddle him as he always enjoyed the feeling of coddling you, but this time he was too tired to fight it. Relaxing into your arms, he would let out a sigh, his eyes closing as he drank in your sweet aroma. “Don’t ever leave me Y/F/N. I really think my reason to exist would cease completely the day you were to walk away.” Pressing his head against your heart, he would sigh peacefully at the soft thuds, thankful he had you in his life. “I will never leave, Osamu Dazai. Not ever.”

-

C H U U Y A

“What is wrong with you?” His words would be calm, though it would be blatantly obvious that a storm was brewing behind his words, the anger building with each syllable. “You always asks me what’s wrong, what’s going on, if I’m okay when you should really be asking yourself that. What’s wrong with you, Y/N? Are you really so mentally unhinged that you would really allow yourself to stay with someone who’s main purpose in life is to serve the Port Mafia to kill and to be a weapon? Do you really even hear yourself sometimes?” His words were cruel, his temper unyielding as he stared spitefully back at you hoping to warrant some kind of reaction. Much to his dismay, however, you would simply just stand there, staring back at him blankly. “Are you even listening to me? Y/N, I don’t understand how someone as intelligent as you could really choose to be so stupid. I am one of the most powerful people in this affiliation and with power comes danger, yet you stick around. You’re so idiotic and naive,” You could hear the desperation in his voice as you continued to stare at him, your eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “That is quite enough, Chuuya.” Taking a step towards him, he would gulp at the calmness in your eyes. How were you not even flinching at his words? “You may frighten everyone else, but you don’t for a second frighten me. I know who you are. I know what I was signing up for the moment I fell in love with you and learned the truth. I am not stupid. I am not dumb. I am not idiotic. I am not naive. Which is why I can see what you’re doing: you’re trying to push me away because YOU are the one that is scared. But you have met your match, Chuuya-San. Because I am just as stubborn as you and I will never allow you to push me away. So, do your worse. Hurt me. Tear me apart. Damage me. You won’t do anything to make me leave you; to make me love you less.” He would stare at you, mouth parted in horror, eyes scintillating with complete fear. Very few had ever been willing to stand up to him like this; to put him in his place with little difficulty. Among these people you were the least intimidating and yet, he had never once felt the need to relinquish so much in his life. He had messed with the wrong person. “Y/N, I—“ He would choke before taking a step toward you, his face unreadable to most. You, however, could see the desperation hiding under those cold features. He didn’t mean it, of course he didn’t. He was only scared, you knew this. He needed you, arguably more than you needed him. Approaching him, you would grab his head and crush it to your chest giving him a tight, sincere embrace. Body melting into you, Chuuya would fight the tears that brimmed to your eyes. You were thankful he couldn’t see yours. “I’m sorry, Y/F/N. I don’t deserve you.” He would utter, lifting his head to meet your own wet eyes. Kissing away your rolling tears, he would pause as you began to shake your head. “That’s when we get into trouble, Chuuya. Can’t you just understand that we deserve each other? That we’re both lucky to love one another?” This would make him smile, as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “We are very fortunate, indeed.”



[bigwhispersbluebird]

Kiss me behind closed doors

How long can you keep a relationship hidden? What happens when the truth comes out and burns everything in its wake? Even the love that once felt enough. 

Relationship: Namjoon!idol x Reader!idol

Canon compliant, angst, hints of smut

Author’s note: Another two-shot. Angst cause I am a bitter soul nowadays

The moonlight peeked through the curtains of the window, striking his naked back directly as he slept soundly on the side of my bed he had claimed as his own. I watched the white light illuminate the dips and curves of his back as if kissing him just like I had when he had showed up at my backdoor like it was routine. 

And perhaps it was. Sneaking to each other’s places in the quiet of the night, stolen glances in a room full of people and text messages sent and deleted over and over again. 

As I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his sleeping form, I tried to memorize his face. The dragon eyes that seemed so innocent like this, the high rising cheekbones melting into deep dimples on the corner of his lips which highlighted the sharp jawline that arched into a prominent Adam’s apple. I curled into myself, wrapping my arms around my knees that were pushed into my body and inhaled his musky and woodsy scent that I was covered in, my eyes still not leaving him. 

When I first met Kim Namjoon, we both were stripped bare of the fame, money and eyes of people that urged us to be perfect. We were both on separate vacations and happened to run into each other at a club. Recognizing him, I had bowed to him slightly from afar and that was it. But the next day when I walked into a small local bookstore located at the edge of an alleyway, familiar eyes, now hidden behind thick black rimmed glasses, were staring at mine. Small conversation about books and we thought that it would be the last time these chance meetings would occur. But it was like the universe had conspired against us, throwing us together in the same places at the same time and it was a test of restraint and patience; what we both lacked as the pull between us got stronger everyday as we learned more and more about each other. 

The day before I had to return back home, a knock on my door had startled me because I knew who it was before I had even looked through the peephole. I often go back to that day. What would have happened if I had not opened the door? What if I had not let him utter all the things I had ached to hear? What if I had not let him pull me to him and close the door behind us? What if I had not let him stay the night? Or on all the nights that followed?

Maybe then I would not be sitting here on my own bed, afraid to fall asleep because that would mean losing time that was already running out. 

In Seoul, Kim Namjoon was RM, the leader of BTS, and I had no right to have him as a lover in my bed every night knowing well that the moment everyone found out that he was dating a controversial solo artist, everything would crash, burn and crumble into ashes at our feet. 

“We should stop”, I would say between fervent kisses getting deeper every time and he would kiss me more deeply, digging his long fingers in my hips agreeing, “We should”, but neither of us would stop, we could not. 

I don’t know how long I just sat in the same position on the bed but when a notification on his phone illuminated the screen and showed the time, I was brought out of my thoughts. The sun would be out soon and it was wise for him to leave before that. That was the norm after all. 

But as I inched closer to him, his hand reaching out in his sleep for mine, the bitter and sad part in me ached to stop being wise and smart. I wanted to let him sleep through the night and the morning. I wanted to wake him up with a good breakfast made out of the tons of groceries that I would shop for every month, only to toss them out the next. I wanted him to sit with me as we did everything and nothing at all. 

But I could not be selfish with him. 

And so, I softly tried to shake him up awake, “Joon, it is almost morning”.

Groggily, he replied, “What is the time?”.

“It is almost 5″.

At that, he immediately opened his eyes and jolted himself awake- getting up and searching for his clothes. Like routine, I got up from my place and helped him, handing him his shirt as he slipped on his pants. I watched him get ready, mask in place and a dark baseball cap lowered on his head, covering most of his face. Through the entire commotion, he had not spared me a single glance. If he had, he would know that with each article of clothing that he draped on himself, I felt like he was ripping it off me till I was completely unsheltered and cold.

When he was finally dressed, he slipped on his coat and made his way to the backdoor and I tiptoed behind him, opening the door before he could to check if anyone was outside. The area of my house was secluded and not many celebrities lived there either hence, we both barely went to Namjoon’s place. Like always, no one was around and I nodded at Namjoon. 

That is when he finally noticed, me and all the giveaways of a disturbed night in my eyes. He knew what was the cause of this and I saw him try to form words that would offer me some comfort. The great Namjoon, who would write meaningful lyrics on a spur and give speeches on massive platforms seemed so vulnerable, standing at my backdoor trying to wonder if words could be of any help and a part of me ached for him. 

I reached forwards, clinging to his massive body, my neck wounding around his neck, inhaling him. “I know”, I whispered in his ear and felt his arms tighten around me. The embrace did not last long and he kissed me one last time before he ran towards the street where he knew his driver would be waiting for him. 

Once he disappeared from my sight, I closed the door and slipped to the floor. The house suddenly felt vacant, even I felt vacant without his arms to touch me and his fingers to graze mine. 

I knew he was going through the same turmoil. When we both had gotten together, we knew it was not going to be easy but we both were prepared to adapt to however the circumstances would be. But after five years of hiding and sneaking, horrible rumors and no sight of any change in our situation in the near future had made us question how long could we keep this up for. I was exhausted and so was he. We would have pulled back a long time ago had not we been crippled by our feelings for each other. 

While the distance would torture us, it was during our breaks and vacations where everything would fall back into place and we would be reminded why we chose this. But I wonder now if those days of peace are worth breaking a piece of me every time he leaves.

*****

“Namjoon, is everything okay?”

Yoongi and Jin had watched for quite some time that Namjoon was disturbed. As the leader, he would barely show any signs of pain or weakness but it was quite evident that he was not in the right state of mind. Not to mention, his songs were now melancholic and painful, as if saying what he could not utter himself. 

“Of course”, Namjoon said a little too quickly and Jin quickly interrupted, “Don’t even try. We won’t believe you. So why don’t you just tell us”.

Namjoon lowered his head, finally letting the weight on his shoulders crush him and his hands  came to cover his face. 

“Is it Y/N?”, Jin asked hesitantly and Namjoon could not help but let out a sarcastic laugh. “I wish it was. I really wish it was her who was screaming and fighting with me about our situation. I wish she would stop opening whenever I knock on that damn door. Instead she lets me watch as she gets hurt everyday”, he was now screaming but he did not care. “You know how many times I met her in the last six months?”, not awaiting an answer, he continued, “Not once unless it was to stand at her backdoor at midnight so I could kiss her and sleep with her because I am scared that without these asshole-ish reminders of us, she will up and leave.” 

The room stayed silent when he stopped speaking, the only sounds audible were of his heavy breathing as he tried to compose himself. 

“She deserves better than a late night rendezvous. This is the woman I have loved for years for fuck’s sake!”.

“Namjoon, you people are not in an easy situation”, Jin tried speaking, “these few hours are all you both can afford and we know that it is difficult but this woman is enduring all this for you, for this relationship that you both have. How about this? As soon as we are done with the promotional activities, take her somewhere”. 

“And after that, hyung? Back to this?”, the question rendered Jin speechless. 

The room was quiet again. 

“Announce it”.

Yoongi was the one to break the silence. 

“What?”, Namjoon asked, genuinely confused. 

Yoongi sat straighter, leaning a bit more towards the younger one who sat across him. 

“Announce your relationship with Y/N. Whatever happens, we will handle it. I know that the general public does not like her a lot but most of our fans will be fine with it. About the rest, we will manage it. How long will the anger stay?”, Yoongi was talking as if it was the easiest thing in the world and the person in question stared at him like had lost his mind. 

“It is not that easy...”, Namjoon spoke up but was interrupted by the oldest. “Yoongi is right. Five years and on your way to the sixth. You people have endured enough and I know that you both deserve a fair chance at happiness. You know that so many people have dumped us because of the life we live but she has stood by you through it. It is high time that we all do this for her. And for you.”

“But...”

“No buts. I know that you cannot imagine losing her so it is not like we are making a casual relationship public. Just trust us. We will handle everything.”

Namjoon knew in his head that all this was easier said than done but as his older members kept talking, he could not help but accept that this was the right thing to do. You deserved more than just being fucked by your boyfriend in the late hours of the night and then left all alone. You did not deserve to have BTS pass you by in public because you were controversial when behind closed doors, you would share homemade meals and inside jokes. 

It was not going to be easy, but he would do it. For you. For him. But little did he know, that his well kept secret would soon be revealed to the world, but not in the way he could have ever anticipated. Not in a way that would forever end what you both had. 

[killianmesmalls]

I truly believe Jack deserves to be forgiven by the Winchesters. Sam, I think, may have already fully forgiven him, though they have some conversations to have, so it is mostly Dean we can see being on the fence of whether he will or not. My (personal) thoughts and feelings below the cut if anyone may be interested. 

First, we have to address the obvious factor of Jack’s lack of a soul and how recent a development that was for him when he accidentally killed Mary. I can see people being of two minds about it: either soulless Jack is no longer truly the same Jack and therefore should be treated separately, or he is still essentially himself and all actions involving him with or without a soul should be taken into consideration while weighing what he deserves. If it’s the first and soulless Jack is an entirely different person from regular Jack, then once his soul was restored he should not be held accountable for his previous actions. However, that seems to not be the consensus, either for myself or most others, so let’s dive into why taking everything into consideration still warrants forgiveness. 

While it is easy to forget, especially since he adapts and learns easily, we need to remember that Jack is still incredibly young. Though he’s able to understand some adult concepts and handle complex situations, often he needs guidance or time to truly process information he’s given or the world around him. He knew a lot very quickly thanks to what he was able to obtain from his mother while developing in the womb, but we see from a number of incidents that this doesn’t expand as far as we sometimes assume—he doesn’t understand most pop culture references, social cues, certain adult concepts such as sex, or even some basic skills like (arguably, at first) tying his shoes and blowing bubblegum. What he’s had to deal with in such a short period of time is absolutely overwhelming, and almost everything he’s done since the moment he was born was to protect and help his family: the Winchesters and Cas. From his search for Mary to losing his grace to being willing to kill himself if needed to burning off his grace in order to keep saving them, his driving force has always been to do what he can for those he loves. 

Unfortunately, he’s learned the Winchester way of self-sacrifice. He put himself in harm’s way in order to locate Mary, trying to handle Lucifer and protect Sam, and repeatedly saw losing his part of his soul as a necessary risk if it meant saving his family. That being said, while he saw it as a risk, I truly believe Jack was also incredibly scared of losing his soul. Not only because of what Cas warned him about, but he’s carried with him since he was born this fear of being evil and knowledge now that having a soul might be keeping him from crossing a line he never wanted to cross. 

Sadly, he crossed it. 

I should say that I feel zero sadness for the loss of Nick, though I do agree with Mary that torture was absolutely out of line and also something Jack with a soul would never have done. However, a newly soulless child (in many ways) looking into the face of the man who looked like Lucifer and was now trying to bring him back—the father who tried to kill him and did steal his grace for himself while threatening to end the world and forced him to choose between killing Sam or himself—is hardly in control of his emotions. It wasn’t that long ago that Jack accidentally yeeted a tattoo artist thanks to feeling one of his first experiences of pain, or kept losing control of his powers when he got upset or scared. To assume Jack, soul or no soul, was these days in control of himself fully is unfair to him. 

So, while being confronted with the idea that a fear he’d been harboring for a while now had come true and someone he cared about deeply was now telling him something was wrong, that his adoptive father figures would be worried about his behavior, and he’s not okay, he understandably experienced what I would say was a panic attack. That, plus what had to be the influence of angel radio, completely threw off any sense of calm he had been struggling to keep. 

Now, I do not believe Mary deserved what happened at all. Before anyone says otherwise, I want to establish that right now. She completely did not deserve to be killed, and this is discussing Jack and his emotions and actions, or my interpretation of them, and not hers. With that in mind, as someone who has suffered panic attacks before, anyone repeatedly insisting on a serious and stressful conversation rather than providing space only provides to heighten the stress. So, soulless, stressed, and still without full control of his actions if he becomes overly emotional, he accidentally had a temper tantrum. Sadly for him, his tantrums don’t end in punching a hole in a wall or flopping on the floor of a Target screaming because he didn’t get what he wanted. It results in the complete obliteration of a human being. A human being we have to remember he loved and saw as a sort of maternal figure. There is nothing about his actions before, during, or after that indicate to me that what happened was at all intentional.

Immediately after the burst of emotion caused Mary’s demise, Jack exhausted all of his options to bring her back. While he didn’t truly feel emotions the same way, if at all, he had enough of an idea still of what guilt, remorse, and love were to try his best to bring her back. In what other times can we recall that someone killed someone and literally scanned heaven and earth for a chance to fix what they had broken? 

On top of that, we cannot discount his manipulation by Duma and Chuck for their own ends. In spite of this, he still accepted his fate gracefully, showing absolutely no anger or resentment toward Dean for the decision he was making nor the actions of putting him in the box and all that went into that incident. 

I’m sure I can speak more to all of the above or more, but for now these are my thoughts and feelings and I am looking forward to the possibility of a good family moment where forgiveness and closure finally happen. 

[eyeslikefoxglove]

Episode 14 - WangXian are a (v soft) Battle Couple & Foxglove is hella mad

Hi! Welcome to episode 14. I should be studying. It’s day two of morning runs, so my soul has left my body already, send help. Yesterday I went to buy plants with my mum and got so excited I just whacked on a bunch of eyeshadow because I haven’t seen the outside in weeks, I’m also wearing makeup today, because I have nowhere to go, but I really need to finish this bb cream before it goes bad, so my parents are getting my full fresh faced “woke up like this and put on mascara” routine (which is a fucking lie because I’m wearing at least three blushes and two highlighters). I’m determined to get this bitch down in under five minutes so I can have another five to do eyeshadow, I have way too much eyeshadow to not wear it (I have way too much everything except maybe mascara and eyebrow stuff).

Yes, if y’all were wondering I am in fact a makeup magpie. ANYWAY BACK TO THE ACTUAL THING WE ALL CAME HERE FOR.

(Btw further down I discuss once again how shitty I think the Yunmeng sibs’ parents are if that causes an issue for you)

Ok ok ok, so I was talking with damnpoe-2187 here about how we found that sometimes WWX crossed from gremlin into asshole when he tried to get LWJ riled up. Like in the Cold Springs, putting our shippers hearts aside, that was a dick move and he should have stopped undressing the second LWJ went from annoyed to incredibly uncomfortable. I find this scene the complete opposite, a show of character development if you will. It is kind of similar in that they’re both hurt, and alone (although this time is much more serious) and there was some undressing going on; however WWX here behaves like a fool in love considerate person and knowing how uncomfortable LWJ already is tries to make it easier for him. They’re also super soft and I’m weak.

A brief interlude from my one track mind: That pond is full of corpses isn’t it? Or at least the remnants of the Murder Turtle’s meals I suppose. Damn right WWX should not have gone into the water with an open wound, but think no one should go swimming in there without a full hazmat suit tbh (I want to pump them full of antibiotics at this point ngl)

So I love this tiny montage (is it even a montage) of the, getting themselves ready to kill the Murder Turtle.

Teamwooooooork.

Listen, I have read a few fics in which their mind-meld stays in place due to reasons and I need me more of those.

Ok, turtles don’t work that way, but then again, giant murder snake-Trex-turtle so that’s low on my list of priorities. What’s not low is the fact that this guy is knee deep into pretty much a mass grave and I want to take a few showers just watching him.

Yeah, I know exactly what he’s smelling and suddenly I hope I don’t have meat for lunch today tbh.

The screaming sword has always been fucking creepy and does LWJ’s fist clench mean that he’s also hearing them?

BATTLE COUPLE! BATTLE COUPLE! BATTLE COUPLE!

So I know killing the thing took them something like six hours. And while it feels quite a long time in the show, I think that, if they cut the scene with idk, JC running towards Lotus Pier, then back to them, then back to JC, but now the sun is in a different position, back to them, but now the blood from LWJ’s hand has dripped down his arm; and so on a so forth it’d convey more clearly how long it took for the Murder Turtle to die. I know fuck all about cinematography tho so feel free to ignore all this if it is in fact an abomination.

Tiiiiiiny interlude here to say that Yiling Patriarch!WWX is probably one of my favourite character archetypes. He’s slightly creepy, slightly amoral (smiling while torturing and murdering bad guys is still amoral ok), more than a bit on the Dark Side, cocky, smirky, a bit of an asshole a BAMF, a rebel with cause and yet he will still do the right thing, not despite his nature, but because of it. He’s kind of like a Chipped Spike? But you know, he doesn’t need electroshock to behave.

I just want a fic where he’s this Dark Lord of Evil in everyone’s eyes however the ‘good guys’ take a break from trying to off him because a bigger threat just popped up and they have no choice but to ask for his help. He agrees, keeps being his charming self while also saving everyone’s asses, LWJ is smitten.

TL;DR: The Necromancer is hot. Oh and nobody dare deny LWJ has a Yiling Patriarch kink.

Oh my, this is the part when I always get teary eyed.

WUJI ON A CELLO? DO YOU WANT TO KILL ME?

“Why hasn’t Jiang Cheng shown up and rescued me yet?” THIS IS ALL THE PROOF I NEED THAT WWX IS THE BABY SIBLING.

“Lan Zhan sing me a song”

IT IS HAPPENING, STAY FUCKING CALM EVERYBODY (I’m crying)

That slideshow of their best moments set to WuJi is a masterpiece, and also, it kind of drives home the point of “how tf did we go from flirting during summer camp to this mess”?

(Btw if that’s YiBo humming he’s got one hell of a deep voice)

Ok ok ok, so this moment had me spitting up my tea the first time I watched it. Believe it or not my dumbass thought these people were actually serious with the censorship and we’d get scraps of their actual relationship. Lots of charged moments like in some other western tv shows I’ve seen when two dudes have chemistry but “they’re not gay”, no longing glances, no tender touches, no being unbelievably soft with each other; just you know, amped up, because if I’m not mistaken you can be arrested in China for “promoting the gay”. I mean, they changed the beginning when people insult MXY’s sexuality to insulting his mental health; no one would think “ah yes, the gays are good” when they hear it used as a slur, but they still erased it completely. One of the things I thought they’d fully take away was WangXian, I mean, the into/outro is named Wuji, which, you know, still a mishmash of their names, but not their ship name. It is such a significant part of the story with all the “what’s the song name? Figure it out yourself” that if something were going to give away that they’re married with a kid it would be that. I thought we’d get an artful fade to black BEFORE LWJ would say the name not after. And also, YiBo is enunciating it so clearly that, even with the sound muffled and the blurriness I, who don’t speak Chinese, can make out the two syllables. That’s deliberate, I can say “WangXian” loud and clear without moving my lips too much. At this point in time I must assume someone in charge of looking for censorship violations in the show is a fan and just ignored it.

Censorship person 1: dude, isn’t that a bit too gay, maybe you shouldn’t greenlight it.

Censorship person 2: shut the fuck up, sit here and watch.

*a full rundown of the whole of CQL later*

Censorship person 1: oh my god they’re so in love and they deserve to be happy.

Back to the commentary: I’m sorry but I have a mighty need of a WWX & Peacock friendship ok? This might be me just wanting WWX and LWJ to make other friends besides each other but I think that the Peacock is just bitchy enough to not take any of WWX’s bullshit.

And the Yunmeng bros timing for banter strikes yet again.

That’s terrible quality fake blood btw.

@ Yunmeng disciples: STOP SHOOTING FUCKING KITES PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Oooof even with a change of clothes our boy is still looking rough as hell.

MY LOVELY YUNMENG SIBS BEING SOFT AND HAPPY WITH EACH OTHER.

It hurts my soul that the second JFM starts praising WWX for surviving the Murder Turtle our boy’s knee-jerk reaction is to start praising JC in return. It is instinctive, how many times must this have happened for him to know his brother won’t even get scraps of praise? (Seriously fuck their parents)

It was going so well, I mean, JFM had a point warning him to not say things in anger. But I thought he was going to tell him that it is because sometimes he’ll hurt someone without wanting to, yet, this asshole decided to, once again, remind his kid he thinks he’s a failure.

And here comes Mme Yu who I can only assume had a servant posted at the door to warn her when WWX woke so she could throw some verbal abuse at him. I mean, she must have been missing it.

And JFM’s misogynistic bullshit strikes once again, because why defend ALL your kids when you can insult your wife.

(Every time someone berates WWX for “intervening” I want to scream. I mean, seeing this I can believe why the society as a whole thought genocide was a good idea.)

I love how they use their kids as props in their fight, I mean it’s not like they have feelings or anything. This woman is gaslight-y as hell too “you don’t love your kid because I gave birth to him”, you can’t tell me saying that in front of the son she’s supposed to love isn’t going to hurt him. And she knows it, I mean, besides the Wen attack I’ve never seen her hit the kids (although I very much doubt she hasn’t), so a good part of the abuse must be verbal. There’s no fucking way a person who regularly uses words that way won’t realise where she’s aiming those arrows. Which means to her (to both) the kids are collateral.

But FR, the barely-out-of-adolescence disaster bi necromancer PTSDing all over the place and living in a mass grave was a better parent than any of the current adults in this thing.

Which brings me to another point, Shijie is textbook “the oldest sibling is just another parent” and I’m making myself very angry.

[this is when I start frothing at the mouth and itching to write a modern-girl(and friends)-dropped-in-CQL because someone has to be a positive adult influence in these kids’ lives and it sure as shit ain’t the ones in the actual show.]

CAN WE STOP BRINGING PEOPLE’S DEAD PARENTS INTO THE FIGHT?

*deep breath*

I am going to feed JFM & Mme Yu each other’s spleens. Look, listen, look and listen, let’s first talk about how calmly they lay out the facts of their lives, one is only loved because he’s been brought up in the shadow of his dead parents, the other knows with certainty his father dislikes him and his mother uses him as leverage in marital disputes. When have these two not exploded their emotions all over the place? Fucking never. Yet here they are, talking about this bullshit like some bout of inconvenient weather. They’re used to it!

And now let’s talk about yet again siblings-are-just-extra-parents, with an added pile of WWX’s terrible self awareness that, to the man who brought him up, his worth is due to his dead parents. Again I’m extrapolating, but with the amount of times Mme Yu brings up his parents in such a negative light I refuse to believe JFM hasn’t made all the “you’re so much like your parents” comments to him every time WWX does something right. I mean, telling an orphan about their parents if they ask is a good thing, but WWX seems starved for stories about his them, which leads me to believe JFM refuses to talk about the topic except to make those little comments. What a fucking stellar way to give someone all the trauma if you ask me. May also explain a lot of WWX’s self worth issues if the biggest praise he’s ever heard is that he resembles dead people, yes, people who were loved, but they’re dead, and it doesn’t look like any adult has bothered to go and differentiate WWX from ZSSR&WCZ.

I’m just really mad, despite all the silly anecdotes I put in here my parents are fucking great at parenting, so I know what good parents should look like, and this ain’t it.

Ok, so I made myself angry and I don’t know if I should move onto the next episode now or wait till tomorrow but thanks for reading!

[pamphletstoinspire]

Story about Saint Polycarp, Bishop And Martyr - Feast Day - January 26th - Latin Calendar

The Martyrdom of St. Polycarp by St. Alphonsus di Liguori

St. Polycarp was a disciple of the Apostle St. John, and was born about the seventieth year of the Christian era. He was a Christian from his infancy, and on account of his extraordinary piety was greatly beloved by the apostles, his teachers. St. Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons, writes that he had had the good fortune, when young, to know our saint, who was then far advanced in years, and remark show strongly impressed on his mind were the instructions which he had received from him, and with what delight he remembered having heard him recount his conversations with St. John and others who had seen the Redeemer.

St. Polycarp was consecrated Bishop of Smyrna by St. John himself before this apostle's banishment to the Island of Patmos. It is looked upon as certain that our saint was the angel, or Bishop of Smyrna, commended by the Lord in the Apocalypse: And to the angel of the church of Smyrna write . . . I know thy tribulation and thy poverty; but thou art rich. . . . Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee the crown of life (Apoc. ii. 9).

Our saint governed the church of Smyrna seventy years, according to Fleury (Hist. eccl. l. 3, n. 48), with so much prudence and approbation that he was regarded as the principal of the Asiatic bishops, on account of the great veneration in which he was held. When eighty years of age, he went to Rome to consult with Pope Anicetus on some points of discipline, particularly regarding the time at which Easter should be celebrated. St. Polycarp's delay in Rome was very useful to the faithful, as it afforded him an opportunity of confuting the heresies of that period. Meeting the heresiarch Marcion, who inquired of the holy bishop whether he knew him; “Yes,” answered the saint, ” I know thee to be the first-born of the devil.”

On his return to Asia, he suffered much in the persecution which the Emperor Marcus Aurelius raised against the Church, and which was particularly felt at Smyrna, where the proconsul, Statius Quadratus, was exercising the most barbarous cruelty against the faithful. Amongst other acts of persecution, he caused twelve Christians, who were brought from Philadelphia, to be devoured by wild beasts. Excited by this bloodshed, the pagans were loud in their demands for the slaughter of the Christians, particularly of Polycarp, who failed not on his part to encourage his flock to the most heroic proofs of constancy, in suffering torments and death for Jesus Christ. Notwithstanding the continual clamor raised against him, the saint wished to remain in the city for the discharge of his pastoral duties, but was obliged, by the importunity of the faithful, to retire to a house without the city, where, during his stay, he occupied the entire night and day in holy prayer.

After a short time, however, he was discovered. Three days previouly to his arrest, he saw in a vision his pillow in flames, from which he knew that the martyrdom reserved for him was that of fire, and, turning to his companions, told them that he would be burned alive. The Christians, aware that the soldiers were in pursuit of him, removed him to another house; but a young servant, overawed by the fear of torture, revealed the place of his concealment. The saint was informed of this, but refused to retreat any farther, saying, with holy resignation: “The will of God be done.” Full of heroic zeal, he offered himself to God as a victim destined for his honor, besought him to accept the sacrifice of his life, and joyfully delivered himself up to his pursuers. He received them into his house, ordered them a handsome supper, and desired only some time for prayer, which being granted, he was for two hours absorbed in meditation.

The captain and the soldiers were filled with confusion at the sight of the venerable bishop; and unwillingly executing their commission, departed with him at break of day. As the journey to Smyrna was long, they set him on an ass, and were conducting him to the city, when they met on the road two superior officers, called Herod and Nicetas, who took him into their chariot, and endeavored to persuade him to obey the imperial edict, saying, among other things: “What harm is there in sacrificing to the gods in order to save your life?” The saint answered with fortitude that he would rather suffer every torture, even death itself, than consent to what they advised. Upon this resolute answer they turned away in anger, regarding him as a man lost through his obstinacy, and pushed him from the chariot with such violence that his leg was bruised, or, according to Fleury, broken by the fall.

The saint nevertheless, with undisturbed tranquillity of mind, proceeded to the amphitheatre, where he was about to sacrifice his life. Upon entering it he heard a voice from heaven, saying: “Be courageous, Polycarp; act manfully.” He was presented to the proconsul, who endeavored to shake his resolution, saying: “Polycarp, thou art old, and should free thyself from torments which thou hast not strength to bear; swear, therefore, by the fortune of Caesar, and exclaim with the people, ‘Be the impious exterminated!'” The saint immediately replied: “Yes! be the impious exterminated–but by the impious I mean the idolaters.” The proconsul, thinking that he had gained him over, said: “Now blaspheme Jesus Christ, and I will discharge thee.” The saint rejoined: “I have served Jesus Christ these fourscore and six years; he never did me harm, but much good; how can I blaspheme him? How can I blaspheme my Creator and my Saviour, who is also my judge, and who justly punishes those who deny him?” The tyrant, still continuing to tempt him to deny Jesus Christ, Polycarp replied that he was a Christian, and considered it a glory to die for Christ.

The proconsul threatened him with wild beasts. “Call for them quickly,” replied the saint; “I cannot change from good to evil; the beasts will help me to pass from mortal suffering to the glory of heaven.” “Then,” said the tyrant, “thou shalt be burned alive.” The saint answered: “Thy fire only lasts a. moment; there is another fire which is eternal, and of that I am afraid. Why dost thou delay to execute thy threats?” This he said with so much intrepidity, that the tyrant himself was struck with admiration; he ordered, however, a crier to make public proclamation that Polycarp had avowed himself a Christian; whereupon the entire multitude of pagans cried out: “Let this destroyer of our gods die!” The public shows having terminated, it was resolved that he should be burned alive, instead of being devoured by wild beasts.

The pile was prepared by the pagans, and also by the Jews, who were particularly active in offering themselves as executioners. Polycarp put off his garments, and seeing they were about to fasten him to the stake, said: “Leave aside these nails: He who gives me fortitude to undergo this fire, will enable me to stand Still without them.” They therefore contented themselves with tying his hands behind his back, and placed him upon the pile, whence raising his eyes to heaven, the saint prayed after the following manner:

“I bless Thee, O God, for having vouchsafed to make me a partaker in the Passion of Jesus Christ Thy Son, by rendering me worthy to offer myself as a sacrifice for Thy honor, that I may be enabled to praise Thee in heaven, and to bless Thee for all eternity.”

The pile was set on fire, yet the flames did not touch the body of the saint, but formed, as it were, an arch around him, while his flesh exhaled a most fragrant odor. The pagans, exasperated to see that the fire had no effect, transfixed him with a spear, and such a quantity of blood issued from the wound as extinguished the flames.

Thus did St. Polycarp terminate his triumph, as is recorded in the celebrated epistle of the Church of Smyrna, which may be seen in “Ruinart's Collection of the Acts of the Martyrs.” His martyrdom took place about the year 160. (1,2)

Practical Reflections by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger

“For eighty-six years have I served Christ, and He has done me no wrong : how can I, then, deny or insult Him now?” This is an answer worthy to be written in golden letters. Impress it deeply upon your heart, remembering God Himself asks: ” O, my people what have I done to thee, or in what have I molested thee? Answer thou me.”

What canst thou answer, whilst thy conscience convinces thee of the truth that God never did thee an injury, but, on the contrary conferred on thee countless benefits for body and soul? How canst thou, then, have the heart to offend Him, and that so often and grievously? What astonishing iniquity and damnable ingratitude it is to offend maliciously so great a benefactor! Were a man, to whom you have done much good, to repay you by repeated insults, what would you say? “Oh!” you would cry, “how have I deserved this from him? For all my benefits I receive nothing but injuries at his hands. How despicable is his ingratitude!” But tell me, what has God deserved at thy hands? Has He done thee less good than thou didst to that man? Oh! weep bitterly over thy ingratitude, and resolve not to continue in it. Do not in future offend thy greatest benefactor, but love and praise Him for His benefits. Answer the evil spirit, when he tempts thee to sin: “My God has done me no injury, but only good: how can I, then, offend Him?”

St. Polycarp did not fear the fire of the tyrant, which could burn only for a time, and then had an end; but he feared the fire which is prepared for the wicked and burns forever. Think often of the inextinguishable fire of hell, and, through fear of that God who can punish thee with it, abstain from sin. Certainly you would not sin for any gain or pleasure, if you were sure that, after sin,”your hand would have to burn in a fire, were it but for a quarter of an hour. How blind and foolhardy, then, is it not to sin on account of some momentary pleasure or gain, when you must expect eternal fire on that account. Such are the thoughts of St. Augustine, who wrote: “Hell fire will not be like an earthly fire. Yet, were you forced to put your hand in earthly fire, you would do all that was demanded by him who threatens you. God threatens you with eternal fire, and will you not do good? Will you not avoid sin?” 

[ann5654]

[Drabble] We've become the Hunted

(Gramander Underworld! AU)

They say we are monsters.

Humans, sudler, non-magiques, no-majs, muggles. They call us creatures. Monsters. Abnormalities. What did we do to them? We never hurt them. We never fought them. We hid in the shadows, undergrounds, deep seas and high mountain tops. We never mingled with them enough to expose ourselves. We rather fought ourselves, instead of including what some of us had once called ‘lesser’. How wrong those had been.

They were witted. After catching one of ours and torturing them for information, they learned in few days every weakness we might have. Their bullets would tear through our strongest shields as if they were made of a spider’s webbing. We had no choice but to run, to flee. The wizards under us, we could pretend to be normal, like they were. The others were not as lucky.

Vampires dragged from their homes and into the sun. Werewolves caught with heavy nets and beheaded on the streets like mangy dogs. Merfolk caught in nets and left to dry out on land. I remember news of muggle born children killed by their mothers, discarded in dumpsters. Most didn’t reach the age of five.

Some of us would stay and fight. Eyes red in anger and grief for their fallen companions. Some would kill themselves, going out with a bang and taking whole villages with them. They called it satisfaction. I think it was pointless slaughter. On both sides.

---

“Get down!”

“Percy!”

“God damn it! Newt! Move!”

---

They say we have no feelings, no humanity. We are different. We cluster together like savages, they say. We have no lovers, husbands, wifes. We only have mates to sate carnal desires. No better than any creature crawling in the mud.

However, we hate, we cry, we laugh. We love.

I love. But because of them, the one I love is gone.

We were leaving. MACUSA fell. We were running through the rain, apparating again and again and again. They were hunting us down, their machines sounded louder than the bombs I remember from the war. I remember running, one of my hands tightly on my case, my creatures, his hand holding my other in that iron grip. He smelled of fear, of desperation.

Not many had ever dared to touch me so willingly. A necromancer is never good company. We meddle too much. Our gift for the dead is fascinating, but morbid. Even in our society, away from the muggles, we are not more than legends, tales and mystery. We have to teach ourselves how to wield our gift, as we are so rare, it would be a miracle if more than one is born every seventh generation.

But he never feared me. He never shied away from touching my skin, hugging me and kissing me. He would hold me after another session where I lend my body to another soul. He would kiss me as if I did not smell like death. His hands always gentle, despite the curse damage that made them tremble at the smallest tasks.

I remember his eyes. Inky black and filled with fear. How fear turned into defeated acceptance.

---

“If you let go, Percival Graves I swear I will raise you from the dead to kill you myself!”

“Run!”

“Percy! I bloody swear to god!”

“Run, idiot!”

“I won’t! I love you!”

“I know, I love you, too.”

“Then why won’t you hold on?”

“Because I need you to live, my darling idiot.”

---

They say we are incapable of loyalty, morality. They say we are born from sins and demons. Was it a sin, when my mother bore me? Her smile so full of love, the stars that night paled in comparison. Was it a demon, who saved that wounded englishman on the battlefield? Or was it simply my brother, helping and being heroic as he had always been?

We are no demons. We are not born of sin. We live and breath and feel. Not even our insides make us different from them. We have lungs, a heart, veins and blood. We need food to survive, we need others to not wilt and wither.

I remember the edge, the bridge. The murky water as black as his eyes as I did not cease the grip on his arm. His wet clothes were dragging him down. The white lining on his coat brown and dirtied from days in hiding. I remember shouting and crying. The icy metal of the edge cutting into my flesh.

Then he had smiled.

A shot.

He let go.

---

“Newt! Come! He’s dead! Come on!”

“No! He’s alive! We can still help him!”

“Let go of me! Percy!”

“Take him!”

“Percival!”

---

They say we are a dying disease. Extinct.

We escaped and hid. At first, months passed by, hope of our survival still strong. Peace still in everyone’s mind. Then the first years came and went. Hope dwindled. With the first, official cleansing, it was snuffed out like a dying flame. We built a sanctuary, only few survive the way to us. Even fewer live long enough to feel the small freedom we can offer.

I remember waking to find my friends staring at me. They show me their hair, gray, and their faces, weathered. Then they show me a mirror. My eyes are empty, dull, but still emerald green. Skin, pale and freckled, but without a single wrinkle. My hair still a mess of reddish blonde curls on my scalp. With our libraries burnt, I have no way of knowing. I don’t know why I’m young, while my friends start to wither. I hear the whispers. They fear me. An immortal necromancer. It doesn’t happen.

I see them die. I’m young, still, but I see them wither away. Tina, my friend for many years, goes by the hand of a muggle. She’s the first to leave. Ever happy Queenie goes with regret in her eyes, asking me to inform the muggle’s family she once loved of her passing. The outrage her betrayal caused died with her last breath. I find Jacob, a man my own lover would have been great friends with, but only leave a note for his old eyes. He does not deserve to be haunted by ghosts.

More years pass. Decades go by and humans start cleaning the streets again. Tina returns, her form often flickering out of focus. A spirit. She convinces me to take the ‘throne’. The leadership of our Sanctuary. I don’t rule, I protect. Her spirit at my side is more often my only comfort.

At least once every decade we hear the news. Another sanctuary fell. Fear will spread like fire. It takes days to reassure the anxious people, but they calm eventually. We keep on hiding, but the whispers change with every decade passed.

I am safety.

I am Sanctuary.

Still, I have yet to be caught in a loving embrace again.

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

hehe, short Gramander drabble, because I can (also on Ao3 :3)

[clevernewdimension]

Baby (M)

Purge AU

1. Revenge - Kyungsoo | 2. Guardians - Sehun | 3. Finally - Minseok | 4. Charm - Baekhyun | 5. Baby - Yixing | 6. Coming soon |

In the city lives a man more powerful than all the rest. The head of the Triad in America, a man so feared no many people dare cross him. He dabbles in smuggling weapons and drugs, assassinations and political blackmailing. However, even a man like Yixing has boundaries, and those are to not get into human trafficking or running sex rings.

A man as powerful as him find it hard to retain personal relationships. Which is why, after meeting with some vile and morally reprehensible man, he paid off some of his working girls debts and asked her to be his sugar baby. He told her that, so long as she was willing, he’d make sure her every wish was granted. Yixing never made her have sex if she didn’t feel like it or forced her to do anything she was uncomfortable with.

After years of this on going relationship, she finally, for the first time, asks him for a favor. To have the man Yixing brought her from killed.

Genre: Action, Gore, and smut.

Word count: 7.7K

A/N: Trigger warnings for gore, blood, death, And you know... crucifixion and burning someone alive... no big deal, right? Seriously, if these trigger you, DO NOT READ.

I smile, looking at my reflection as I trace my lips with a deep wine colored lipstick. It was the day before all hell breaks loose, and I wanted to be the picture of perfection for him today. After all, I wanted to ask him for a favor, and I had to be a good girl in order to get it. My high rise apartment was glittering and the definition of modern and elegant. He made sure when he bought it for me. He made sure I had everything I could have ever wanted. That was the deal, after all.

Being someone’s sugar baby is awful if the person is terrible, but fun and amazing if the person is exactly what you wanted. Luxury is standard, but being sad and lonely in it makes it seem like you’re materialistic. However, we have to be careful. It’s easy for babies to be used. I heard about the woman who was one for some political figure who sounded like a total asshole. She got pregnant and he left her all on her own. Her sugar daddy was the awful kind. Powerful but greedy. Expecting to fuck, leave cash or gifts and bounce. That is the majority of the people who seek out people like me.

Mine is different. He’s the head of a family with old money. So many zeros it made my head swim. It helps to amass that amount when your family is heavily tied to and a part of the Triad. When they moved to America from China years ago, their influence grew and now, their gang is unrivaled here. My sugar daddy is the head of that whole thing. He sits upon a throne of drug and smuggling money. He doesn’t do human trafficking or pimping, saying he does have a soul. He also doesn’t have people killed lightly, either. Violence can be a tool to help people learn, but death just leaves a useless dead body.

After a few months of our agreement, I asked him more about himself. He’s not married, which is a blessing. Wives complicate things, even if they know about you. They’ll claim they are not jealous, but secretly try to ruin you. He’s tried dating before me, he said, but it never worked out. Something about the people he’s dated ending up being those who wanted to be what I would lovingly refer to as a trophy spouse. Gold diggers and arm candy. So he came and found me. He wanted regular sex without the strings attached. I’m just happy that this has worked well so far… well, and he loved giving me anything and everything I want. Which is funny, because I never ask for anything. He constantly pays my rent and any bills, makes sure my fridge is stocked and would send me gifts without my having to ask.

I smile bitterly, putting one of the many necklaces he’s gotten me on. The rubies glittering in contrast with the black dress. It’s a shame. My first daddy I felt nothing for. He was an ok fuck, but loved giving me gifts in exchange for blowjobs. He left and my current one, Yixing, came along not long after. He was handsome as sin and fucked me like that was his god given purpose. Like he was placed on this earth in order to make me reach every height of pleasure one could ever imagine. Somewhere along the way, he opened up, I got to know him personally and I fell in love.

My biggest mistake. He wanted no strings attached, and it’s taking everything I have not to tie him down and make him mine forever.

What we have is suppose to be purely professional. How can I not fall for someone who cares for everything about me? Sends me to spas when I ache and makes sure everything in my life is sorted for me, the list goes on and on. It was because of him I was able to pay off the debt I owed the pimp I was under and able to escape from under his thumb. I owe him everything.

Which is funny that a man who looks like he could be a god sank so low as to choose a baby like me. Zhang Yixing deserves everything, and all I can do is spread my legs for him. He deserves happiness and I’ll never be the one to give that to him. He wanted a family, children and all that. I felt a deep bitter hate for whomever was going to be his wife for being able to make him happy like that. To complete his life in a way I will never be able to. That truth burned me to my very soul.

I hear the door open as I look, seeing Yixing standing there in a black suit. His hair black as he just looks at me, eyes trailing all over my body. Just the sight of him in a suit like that made me want to beg him to fuck me already. I am so whipped for him it isn’t even funny.

He comes close, pressing his lips to my neck, smirking when I let out a tiny little moan. Just the littlest of touches make me want to give him everything. It was a little embarrassing. “Baby girl,” He whispers, biting my skin softly for a moment. I lean back into him, closing my eyes and enjoying the feel of him on me. I wanted to feel this forever. I feel him smirking against my skin, “We’re going to be late.”

“I just need my shoes,” I say, smiling. All I wanted to do was say screw the dinner. We could stay here, order in and get lost in each other. But Yixing is a man of refinery. Take out is hardly good enough for someone like him. He bit my shoulder lightly again, sucking and looking at me in the mirror.

He knew just what drives me crazy.

The dinner was fine. French and lovely as I smiled, the bill being taken away as I reach out, taking his hand in mine. I’ve spent all day trying to convince myself to say this. It’s not like he’s mean. Yixing has been nothing but sweet to me, even when doing things like spanking me or choking me. It took me a while to convince him that I liked that, too. He’s a sweetheart deep down… well, at least to whomever is in his bed at the time.

He looks at me with a smirk, “Are you going to tell me what’s been on your mind the whole dinner?”

“I… I want to ask you a favor,” I mutter, getting quiet. My hands hold his tighter as I look away for a moment, trying to regain my composure.

This has peaked his interest. “Go on, baby,” He says, letting his thumb rub into the skin of my hand softly.

“You remember Ferdinand,” I say, looking at him. Saying his name made me feel sick just thinking about it. “I… I want him dead.”

Yixing looks genuinely surprised. He lets out the smallest laugh, “I wasn’t expecting that.” Yixing just shakes his head, looking at me. His eyes glued to mine, “May I ask why?”

“He… he wasn’t kind. As you know already I was his... personal woman for a while and… he hurt me,” I mutter, “For a long time. When I first got involved, I never really wanted to be a hooker for him. I was just fifteen and my father was in trouble with him. Once he died, Ferdinand took me. I owed the debt, you know,” I say, looking at my hand in his. My father was a sick man with an addiction to gambling. He died and left all the debt from Ferdinand to me. Asshole. “Lets just say all the slaps, bruises and torture from him wasn’t consensual. So, I know you probably don’t want to be told what to do, bu-”

“Consider it done,” Yixing says, cutting me off.

I snap my eyes to him, seeing him look at me, an anger held in his eyes. He looked like it was hard for him to hold back his feelings. “Baby, I wish you would have told me sooner,” He mutters, reaching over and cupping my face. “I would have given you his head on a silver platter if I knew.” That sentence made my heart soar as he just smiles at me, “No one hurts you and gets away with it.”

“I want to see it,” I mutter, “I want people to see him suffer.”

“That’s why you want it on Purge night, hm?” Yixing asks, nodding. He smiles, “That can be arranged.” He slides his thumb over my lip, not caring at all about the lipstick. I smirk, opening my mouth and sucking on it, letting my tongue slide against it. The look in his eyes gets darker. He smiles, the look I’ve grown so familiar with coming to life. “What my baby wants, my baby gets. Everyone will see him at his weakness.”

I let his thumb go, smirking. I don’t know why I was so scared of asking him. He’d always made me happy with everything. “What if I wanted his whole crew dead?”

“Then I would have them all slaughtered,” He says with a smile, taking a sip from his glass of water. His eyes still on me, as I could see the beginnings of lust grow there. I recognize it, after so long of being with him.

“And the women that worked for him? What if I wanted them to finally have freedom?”

“Then they will all given some money and a new chance at life.” He smiles, “I will made sure those things are done for you, because I have a feeling they are not hypothetical questions.”

He could read me like a book most of the time. Yixing always knows when I’m speaking in hypotheticals and when I’m not. Just another reason why my heart belonged to this wonderful and powerful man. I smile, “What if I wanted you?”

Yixing just chuckles a little bit, “Baby, you already have me. You know you are a goddess and I am nothing but your devoted worshiper. That why I’ll give you anything you want and more.” He smiles, “You are worth everything, my dear.”

“You really know how to make me feel special,” I say, smiling. My heart beating fast as I look at the soft smile his face wore. I knew he meant every single word he spoke. He’s proven it countless times.

“Of course,” He says, as the waiter drops off his card. He nods to the man, before smiling at me. “You are the only one for me.”

Part of me wanted to say until a woman worthy enough to marry comes along. I know him. He’s not the type to see two people at once. If he marries, she’ll be the only one for him. I force out a smile, “Then, come on. I didn’t wear this itchy lace lingerie all night for you to waste time staring at me with my dress on.”

I could see the attraction in his eyes intensify. They look down, towards the bit of cleavage I have on show for him before looking back up, lips bitten between this teeth for a moment. “You spoil me,” He mutters, standing and helping me out of my seat. He slips his card in his wallet, looking at me with a smirk that made me feel weak in the knees. I smile, walking beside him as I feel him lace our fingers together. It didn’t take long for the valet to drive his car to us. He hands the kid some bills as a tip, and I smile hearing the kid gasp.The kid was thanking him profusely as I moved, getting in the passenger seat he opened for me before he gets in the driver seat.

The drive wouldn’t be long, but the sight of him sitting there, both hands on the wheel made me feel impatient. The windows tinted dark as I smirk, reaching over. With a finger I trace him through his pants, hearing him hum, before looking at me. He smirks, “Baby, why are you acting so desperate for my cock?”

“Because I want to make you happy, Daddy,” I mutter, pulling the upper part of the seat belt from around me. I give him a quick wink, “You do so much for me, I want to make sure you’re happy too.” I lean over, reaching and popping the button open and pulling the zipper down. It wasn’t long before I got him out, licking at the leaking tip. The sight of him aching for me made me feel powerful. I was the one who made him feel this way. I was teasing him, licking and kissing the tip, waiting for him to say something.

“Baby,” He moans, as I see out the corner of my eyes his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. The hum of pleasure he let loose made me smile.

I knew the drive wasn’t long, as I sink down, moaning. I loved having his cock in my mouth. I can’t count how many times I’ve blown him as he spoke on the phone talking some mafia business. The many times I hid under his desk and would suck him off after getting the text to meet at his place. I feel one of his hands move to my hair, dictating my moves. I moan, wrapping my lips around him tighter. I could hear him speed up a bit, knowing he was getting just as desperate I was. The taste was addicting as I let myself feel pride, hearing him moan.

I was the one pleasing him. No one else but me.

He pull me off, hand tightly gripping my hair.  I didn’t have a chance to even as why before I feel him press our lips together. With a quick glance I look out the window, seeing we were back at his place. The pride I felt knowing he probably sped her as quick as he could to get here so quickly filled me. I moan into the kiss, wanting to give everything over to him right this very instant. His tongue massaging mine, his kisses always so sensual that it’s hard to believe he had no love for me. He pulls me away, looking me in the eyes as he just smiles, “Babe, I want you to take that dress off. I want your ass laying on that grass and I want you to let me have my way with you, do you hear me?”

“The grass, hm,” I ask smirking. “Did I make you want me that badly?”

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since the moment I left you last night,” He mutters against my mouth, biting my bottom lips quickly. “The thoughts I had of you all day was already enough, but then you dress like this? You blow me in the car?” He laughs, “Babe, don’t you know I always want you?”

The fact that he couldn’t wait to fuck me long enough to get into the house made me almost moan. We haven’t done this on the front lawn yet, so this is exciting. Every other inch of his mansion has been a part of our passionate fucking at one point or another. Even the fountain in the backyard was christened. I smile, unbuckling my seat belt. “Can you help me,” I ask, turning my back to him. I feel him quickly pull the zipper down on the dress. I stand, losing the dress and letting it fall into the driveway without a second thought. My red set of matching bra and panties I slip out of the shoes, moving and laying on the grass. I lay first with my ass up, showing him the sexy and lacy underwear. He loved my ass. His hands would sometimes find it when we slept next to one another, grabbing it through the night. I smile, turning and stretching, before looking and seeing Yixing.

He kneels, face between my legs as he pulls the underwear down. His eyes on mine the entire time. “Wasting no time today,” I say with a smirk. I lift my hips, letting him pull the panties down before he uses his hands fingers trailing over my thighs as he pulls them open. His long fingers massaging the skin of my thighs.

“How could I when all I want to do is touch you,” He mutters, eyes appreciating every inch of my body. “Baby,” He says, biting his lips as he looks over me, “Every day I get to see you is like a blessing. But any time I have you like this, with your legs open and your cunt dripping for me,” He says, leaning forward, his tongue licks up my slit, making me moan. It was slow, soft, but leaving me feel like someone just electrocuted my body with how it craves him. He loved doing this, dragging it along to make sure I felt it. He smiles, looking me in the eyes, “It’s a miracle, one that I’m always and forever will be thankful for.”

“Yixing,” I mutter, looking down at him, “Please.” I need him. His hands on me and to forget about my feelings for a few moments. I wanted to get lost in the lust, in the primal need to feel pleasure for a few moments.

“I aim to please,” He mutters, before I feel a finger slip into me. I shutter, feeling him angle it perfectly to make me shiver. His hot tongue pressing onto my clit, making me grab onto his hair. We’ve been here before, but every time it feels like it’s better than the last. Yixing has been my Daddy for years and sex has never been boring with him. Every movement of his tongue, the addition of another finger made me want to cry it felt so good. He was sin personified as I glanced down, seeing him either with his eyes closed enjoying himself as he eats me out or looking at me directly, eyes wide and watching for every reaction my body gave him. When he started to suck at my clit was when I knew I wouldn’t last long anymore. I cried, telling him I was close. He didn’t stop. He didn’t slow down. I moaned, feeling the beginning of my orgasm coming up. It was going to be one of those nights.

The bliss crashed into me, making me cry out his name. I was clawing at the ground and any part of him I could get my hand on. Even as I was yelling his name, clinging onto him, still he didn’t slow. He wanted another as his eyes looked at me, staring into me as he added another finger.

“Fuck, Daddy,” I moan, pressing my thighs against his head. I was grinding against his face, feeling tears come to my eyes as I feel myself tipping over the edge again. My yells of praise for him in the air, my mind turning to mush as I let myself go. I could feel tears falling from my eyes from how quick it was, how sensitive it is already. When I finally came back down, I looked to him, my chest heaving as I breathed in deeply.

This time, he pulls away, smiling. My wetness on his face as he just licks his lips, wiping the rest away with his shirt sleeve. Fuck, he was so sexy like this. He wasn’t like any Daddy I’ve had, any other man I fucked. He wants me to feel this bit of heaven. He cares about my pleasure. Everyone else just fucks me and would brag about the skills they don’t have. Yixing was different. God, he practically got off to giving me orgasms. Many nights we’ve spent together where he would just tie me up and make me fall from that peak over and over until I was drunk on the feeling and couldn’t walk. He would just watch, singing praises about me as his eyes were glued to me.

The best part of it is the looking in his eyes after. The pride, but not for himself. The pride in me that I would let him do this. How proud he was that I agreed to be his. The adoration he would have just watching me make me want to do anything for this man. How can I see the way he looks at me like this and not fall for him?

“Baby girl, you are the most beautiful woman,” he mutters, as I watch him start to undress. I reach behind me, taking off the bra as he takes his shirt off. I see the tattoo of the phoenix on his arm and the tiger on his other. One one of his forearms is a dagger tattoo, a perfect black and white replica of the dagger he used to kill the man who killed his mother. Over his heart, in Mandarin, said loyalty. I smile at him, seeing the man I could never get enough of looking at me like I was the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

It was completely addicting, seeing him over me, under me, reaching his peak and knowing I’m the one that did that to him. And why I could never let him know my true feelings because I didn’t want to lose this.

“Please Daddy,” I moan, wrapping my legs around him as he pushes his pants and underwear down his hips. I pull him to me, feeling his hard cock rubbing against my core. I moan, looking and seeing it stained with my lipstick from earlier.

Yixing leans, pressing his lips to mine in a deep kiss. He didn’t care if he got lipstick on him when we kissed. I loved leaving lipstick stains on his body as he presses himself into me. It made me, for a moment, feel like he was mine. I wrap my arms around him, nails digging into his back. We haven’t used a condom for years now. Every other precaution we take but this. I wanted to feel him completely. God, the first time I asked him not to wear it, the look his eyes held made it feel like there was a river in my panties. He looked at me like I had given him a precious gift.

“Fuck me,” I mutter, against his lips, feeling him sliding slowing out. I wanted to fast. I didn’t want him to go slow, to make love to me. I can’t take slow, love making when I know the emotions were not there from him.

Before he could do anything. I feel cold water spraying. I look, seeing the sprinkler system on. Yixing growls, “Fuck,” He mutters. He pulls away, about to get up.

I tighten my legs around him, “Zhang Yixing, if you don’t fuck me this instant, I won’t let you touch me the rest of the goddamn night.”

He looks at me, lips stained in lipstick. The water soaking us both already, his hair dripping as the water rains down on us. He smirks, placing one of his hands on my hip, the other moving towards my head, gripping at the hair at the base of my skull. His hips smash into me so fast, in such a fluid motion I was immediately yelling. I was sensitive already, combine that with the way he can move just made me feel like I was made of jello.

His teeth bite into my neck, making me cry out, tears falling from my eyes. The hand on my hip moves, grabbing one of my hands and lacing our fingers together. His lips moved to my ear, whispering not filthy words or names, but praises, telling me I was beautiful and stunning, how he adores me and wanted me to have anything my heart could desire. My heart felt heavy, knowing that he was fucking me like I was a lover but knowing I was just his sugar baby.

I screamed out another orgasm, the mix of his hot body on mine and the cold water making me lose myself into these feelings. I desperately wanted to forget that he held no actual love for me. It was all just for my body.

He stilled, and I feel him come within me. He presses himself against me, collapsing as his lips were molding themselves to mine. They were soft, slowly kissing me. He pulls away, smiling at me.

He pulled away just as the sprinklers stopped. The water dripping into me as he just looks me in the eyes. “How was that, my queen,” He asks, smirking at me.

My emotions fighting in me to tell him the truth made me hesitate to speak. I just went with the playful flirting after a moment of pause. “If I’m the queen, are you my king,” I ask, catching my breath along with him.

“Of course,” He says, moving and leaving soft kisses on my shoulder and neck.

I smile, deciding to be playful in order to distract from my feelings, “Then aren’t queens suppose to have a crown? A throne?”

“I can have a crown made for you,” He says, “I’d rather have no one else as my queen. Everyone else would be jealous of you. Yellow gold? White? Covered in jewels?”

I roll my eyes, my mouth speaking before I could stop it. “If anything, I’d be the mistress.” I freeze after saying that, biting my lips closed.

Yixing moved, looking me in the eyes. He looked upset, but not angry, “Baby, for you to be the mistress, that would mean I would have to have someone else as my queen.” He shakes his head, “You are the only woman for me. No one else compares to you. I love you.”

It took everything I had to hold back a look of pain. That’s all I wanted, to be his. Not just his sugar baby, but his. To love and grow old together. He tell me he loves me all the time, but I know it isn’t true. He gets caught up in the moments easily. But hearing it all the same hurts. I smile, “That’s what I wanted to hear.” Even if I knew it was a lie. One day he would find a woman worthy of his love. Worthy to be his wife. “You know I just want to hear you praise me,” I say with a smile.

“And I love praising you,” He says, “We’re a perfect fit.” He smirks, “Besides, I thought you already knew where your throne was.”

I pout, confused, “No. Where?”

The mischievous look on his face told me I’d fallen for whatever little joke he was thinking of. He smiles, pressing his lips to mine, “Baby girl, you know your rightful throne is my face.”

I frown, a few hours before the sirens go off to signal the start of the Purge. I hear people talk about the Carnival with glee as I just pass by. I wore sweatpants, my hair up in a messy bun. I was picking at a pretzel from one of the stands along the street. The cinnamon sugar on it made me smile a little, trying to think about what I should wear tonight. The sweater I wore was too big as I walked along the street. I threw the trash away, looking at the shops. I just went to get something at my bank sorted, as they’ve been pestering me about it for a little while.

I feel a hand snake around my waist as I turn, seeing Yixing smile at me. I blush, looking at what I was wear. I push his face away, “Don’t look at me! I look awful!”

“You’re beautiful,” He says, swatting my hand away softly. His warm tone making me shiver a little.

“I’m not wearing makeup and I look like this,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“I’ve seen you like this before, Babe,” He says, leaning down and pressing his lips to mine in a quick kiss. “What you asked me for, don’t you worry. The plan is ready,” Yixing mutters quietly.

“What are you doing out here,” I ask, smiling. It took everything I had to smile and not feel completely inferior and worthless when standing next to him. It bad enough I was average near him when I’m dressed to the nines, but even worse when next to him now. He wore the finest suit, the jacket probably in his car as his sleeves are rolled up his forearms. He looked like perfection. I was just a dumpster in comparison.

“Talking to my friend, Kyungsoo,” Yixing says, “He asked me for information on these doctors. A client of his wants them dead. It’s fine. What are you doing?”

“Just a little thing with the bank, it’s ok,” I say, shrugging. “I was just going to relax before… well, whatever you had planned for the night.”

“I just had an errand to pick up before I got a call from my friend,” Yixing says. Two women pass us, their eyes looking him up and down before moving to me. The glare of jealousy made me feel pride. Somehow I’ve tricked him into keeping me around. His eyes never left me. I stop, smiling before getting on my toes and pressing our lips together. His hands move to my hips, as he smiles against my lips before kissing me back.

He smiles, pulling away. “Baby, tonight will be very special.”

“Really,” I ask, before we start to walk again. The smile he gives me make me feel weak. This man treats me so well.

“Well it’s not every day my Baby asks for something,” He says with a small grin. “Well… unless it’s food.”

That made me wince internally. I need to diet, I know my love of food can’t be attractive. My stomach isn’t as toned as it use to be, and if I let myself slip more he’ll find another woman prettier and slimmer. If I let myself go, I’ll lose Yixing. I will never be the woman that is his wife, but like hell will I lose my place as the woman whose bed he seeks. “I just… it’s very important to me,” I mutter.

“I could tell,” He says, a small smile. “You never ask me for anything. All the gifts I give, you’ve never asked for any of it. I offer the world to you on a plate, money no option, and yet you’ve never told me anything you wanted. He leans in, mouth by my ear, “Well, unless it’s in the bedroom, that is.”

“That’s because you’re irresistible,” I whisper back, smirking. “Are you going to make me say those things later tonight too?” I stop, turning with my mouth right next to his ear, quietly whispering as I moan into his ear, “Daddy, please, faster! Harder! Fuck me and cum in my pussy, please!”

One hand moves my face, so he could press his lips to mine once more. His tongue forced its way into my mouth as he let his hunger for me take over a moment. With a bite to my bottom lip, he pull away. Yixing chuckles, “You know how to make me feel wanted.” He presses a kiss to my temple, before looking at his watch. “I have a little bit of business to attend to. Go to my place. It starts soon and the security there will keep you safe.”

I did just that. His house is grand, a huge mansion where a couple of members of the Triad live. I walked in, and they all knew me and have come to expect me. I spent the day in the bathtub and getting a massage from his personal masseuse. I had to be sure that I looked as good as I could tonight after he saw me looking like trash.

I could hear the siren, starting the Purge. I was in his walk in closet. A section of it was mine as I look between the dresses. I pick out a rather revealing one, showing off quite a bit of cleavage. It was navy, going to the floor. The thin straps on my shoulders. A cut going low, down between the valley of my breasts. I wore no bra or underwear, wanting to give Yixing a little treat.

It’s a treat for myself, too. It’s exhilarating when I see his eyes on me. Sometimes like I hypnotized him. This powerful man who could make people die in minutes and who had blackmail on even the most powerful people in this country was watching me. Sometimes he stared like I was a stunning beauty. Sometimes, his gaze was like he wanted to corrupt and devour me.

And I would let him in a heartbeat every fucking time.

I kept my makeup light, looking more natural as I looked at myself in the mirror. I look up, seeing Yixing leaning against the door frame, his eyes on me. I smile, turning and looking at him. He was still dressed similarly, but this time with no tie. The sleeves rolled up at his eyes travel over my body. I smirk, holding out a hand, gesturing to my dress. “This ok,” I ask, looking up with a smile.

“My baby is more beautiful than any model on earth,” He says, as I walk towards him. His hands on my lips as I feel his lips on my neck. I let out a small moan, feeling him biting and sucking a park there.

“You flatter me too much,” I mutter, closing my eyes and moving my head to give him more room.

“It’s the truth,” He mutters in my ear, “You’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world. I’m lucky you let me anywhere near you.”

I was about to say something, but I feel him bite the skin of my neck, sucking harshly. I grab onto him, moaning louder as he pulls away, his eyes shining in amusement as he smirked at my reaction. He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together as he escorts me towards the garden.

The garden is large, trees and flowers everywhere. After that is a large lawn with nothing but scattered trees here and there. I see what looks like a makeshift stage, lights there. A camera, a lot of people working like this is a show as I looked at Yixing. He just smiles, pulling me along. “I told you, darling,” He mutters, “I was going to make sure you got what you wanted.”

“Mr. Zhang,” Someone says, walking up briskly, “We’re ready for you.”

He glances at me, “I would ask if you want to help, but you hate getting your hands dirty with blood.” He points, as I see what looks like a comfortable large chair to the side. “After, I would like you and I to take a walk. To the lake, if that’s alright?”

“Absolutely,” I say, before I feel him press a kiss to my temple. I sit down, right beside the camera.

Yixing moves, before I see the person with the camera holding up her fingers. “Live in Five… four… three…” After that, she just showed her fingers going down. She pointed at Yixing, giving him a thumbs up.

He smirks, looking at the camera, “Good evening. I do hope everyone is enjoying their Purge night!” He grins, crossing his arms as he just looked right into the camera. “A night full of blood, murder and debauchery. Three of my favorite things! However,” He says, looking at the camera with a hint of annoyance. “You see, there has been a roach living in our city for a while. He scams young teens and guilts them into being his women and men of the night.”

He turns, holding hi arm out as two men drag Ferdinand out, holding his arms. His blacked hair was in his face as he looked around frantically. Over his mouth was some tape, causing no one to hear the words he’s trying to scream. His suit looked expensive, obviously ripped and damaged from where he was jumped, I assume. His eyes meet mine and he glares, fighting harder against the people who were holding him.

Crack!

The sound of Yixing kicking the man across the face felt like it was right next to me. Yixing glares, grabbing his hair and pulling him to look in his eyes. A knife in his hand as he held it to Ferdinand’s neck. “You glare at My angel one more time like that, and I’ll make sure you suffer more than you already will.”

Yixing lets him go, shoving his face away as he stands up straight again. “This man takes children from their families and forces them to work for him. He takes those who have been cast out from their families, promises them a better life. Everything they could ever dream,” Yixing glares, looking back at him, “But he lies. No longer.”

Ferdinand looks at Yixing as he rips the tape off his mouth. “All the people under your control are free. Under my protection for the rest of the night and, tomorrow, will be given cash in order to start a new life. Be it here or somewhere else. Every person who worked for you are currently being fed to the fishes in the harbor.”

“You can’t do this, Zhang,” Ferdinand growls, trying to pull away from the two men holding him. “I’ll give you anything you want. Let me go and we’ll talk this out.”

Yixing crouches, a camera moves to get a better shot. He smirks at him, “No can do. What my baby asks for, my baby gets. Nothing can stop it. No money you have, no item you own, no favor you promise will stop that.”

Ferdinand looks at me, glaring, “You fucking cunt! I’ll ki-”

Before he could do anything, I see Yixing take the long knife out, holding one of his ears and slicing. I hear a blood curdling scream as I just smile, seeing him suffer finally. Yixing looks at the ear in disgust, holding it before dropping it without a care. “I told you not to glare at her,” He mutters darkly, “Now, if you so much as look at her again, I’ll keep you alive until just before this night ends.”

My heart swells, hearing him so protective of me. The fierceness in his eyes as he glares in Ferdinand's eyes made me smile.

Yixing turned back to the main camera. “You all know him. The neighborhood pimp who thinks of himself to be the coming of Christ,” Yixing says, rolling his eyes. “How many times have we heard him call himself a god? That no one in the city was more powerful than he was?” Yixing looks back, scoffing, “I decided to call his bluff.”

I see three men carrying what looked like a heavy wooden cross up into the stage. Yixing just smiles, looking at it. “I decided, that for someone who calls himself god and the reincarnation of Christ, he deserves to suffer just the same.”

Ferdinand looks at him, his eyes full of fear as he watches them lay the cross down. A few people moving, pulling him over it as Yixing grabs a huge hammer, tossing the nails to other people to hold down.

One hand held down against the wood, a nail positioned and ready.

“This is for every single person whose lives you’ve infected,” Yixing mutters, as the camera moves closer. I stand, looking closer as I see him smash the hammer down. Ferdinand’s screams of pain were like music. The blood seeping out as He pushed the nail further and further so it would hold the hand there. Yixing smile looking over at me before moving on. The hands were easy, the legs are what is going to be difficult, but Yixing still hammered the nail into his feet.

After, he helped the people raise the cross, Ferdinand screaming in agony as it’s moved into a little hold made for it to stand up straight. Yixing smiles, looking at him. I smile, seeing as the man who was a nightmare to me scream in pain. I see him wet himself, making me laugh. I hope he feels pain for all that he’s caused. I hope he feels humiliated, like he’s trapped with nowhere to go.

Specks of blood are all over Yixing face, shirt and arms. He built up a sweat as he looks over at me. “Angel, should we leave him to suffer, or should we let him feel the flames of hell early?”

“End it,” I say, looking at the blonde man. “The quicker you’re done with him, the quicker you can focus back on me.”

“Anything you want, Darling,” He says, smiling as the people who work for him knew immediately to go get things to start the fire. Yixing looks at the camera, “He’s just the first. No one should be forced to work the streets if it isn’t their own choice.” I smile, watching them get a gas can and pour it on the hay they brought, as well as on Ferdinand. He looked at me, yelling screams and begging me to stop this. I just looked at Yixing. He was looking at me, smiling softly, “Next year, I’ll dismantle another empire built on pain and rape. I’ll do it until this city is clean of it, and my Baby is finally happy. I’d suggest you all either move to another city or give yourselves up.” Yixing smirks, looking back at Ferdinand for a moment, before glaring back at the camera, “Or this will be you next.”

He reaches in one of his pockets, dropping the knife to the ground as he takes out a zippo lighter. He flicks it open, the flame igniting as he tosses it on the hay and the gasoline that was poured on Ferdinand. The screams were loud, as He hops off the stage, “Keep it live until the flames go out. I want everyone to see what I’m willing to do for my beautiful baby.” He looks at me, taking a towel from one of the people behind the camera, wiping away the blood on his face and arms.

I take his hand, smiling as he leads me away, towards the lake on the other side of the estate. “Thank you,” I mutter, once we’re out of earshot, “For everything.”

He smiles, pulling me to sit by the bench near the lake. I smile, leaning my head on his shoulder as I listen to crickets and seeing the fish jumping out of the water. He moves his hand, resting it on my thigh as I feel him kiss my head.

“Baby,” He mutters, quietly. “I got something for you.”

I move, turning to him. I see him turn to me, taking my hands in his. He leans forward, pressing his lips to mine in a quick kiss. I could feel my face heat up at this as he looks down at our hands. He holds mine, smiling. “Baby… this time we’ve had together has been great.”

I feel my heart stop. Tears start to fill my eyes as I remember hearing some other sugar babies talk about this. If your Daddy starts talking like this, he’s going to tell you he wants a new one. I shake my head, listening.

“We’ve been amazing, you and me,” He says, smiling, “There are so many days with you I will never forget. I-”

“Are… are you ending this,” I ask, feeling tears fall down my face. My heart hurt just with the thought of never seeing him like this. That there would be someone else to be his baby, that will get to be under him and receive all the praises he sings. “I-i’m sorry if I did anything wrong. Please don’t get rid o-of me.”

Yixing looks his, his eyes wide, “No, baby, not that! I would never.” He shakes his head, “Y/N,” He says, quietly, “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

I smile, feeling my heart soar. Good, he wasn’t replacing me yet. I still had some time to make any doubt he could have disappear.

I see him reach into his pocket, “I… I want to make this permanent. Us.” He says, looking up with a grin. He moves to the grass, one knee on the ground as he opens a small little box. “Somewhere along the lines, I fell for you. I love you. I tell you this all the time.” He blushes, “I… I’ve stopped thinking that you were my sugar baby for a long time. I never asked if you were my girlfriend because I thought you knew.” He shakes his head, smiling and showing me that amazing dimple, “I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m so sorry. Y/N, I want you. Not just for the night. I want you forever. As long as I live I want you next to me as an equal.” Yixing reaches out, wiping the tears from my face his the hand not holding the box with the ring. “I want the honor of being your husband. I want you, I want us,” He says, holding my cheek at he smiles, “Will you marry me?”

I move, my knees falling to the ground as I pull him into the tightest hug. “I love you,” I say, crying. “I love you so much. I thought you would leave me when you wanted to marry. I thought I wasn’t good enough-”

“You are more than enough,” He says, kissing my forehead. “I adore you. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. Will you let me?”

“Yes,” I say, moving and pressing my lips to his. “Fuck, Yixing, yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

[veridium]

Summary: Inquisitor Trevelyan is keeping a secret, and while said secret recovers in the Skyhold prison cells, she grows too curious to wait for another day. Troubled and stressed beyond measure, she finds that letting go of past demons is proving more difficult than anticipated. However, in times such as these, one can rely on friends to both complicate and comfort the situation.

Author’s Note: I teared up writing this chapter, which is shorter than the rest, but I believe one of the most poignant and telling in Theia’s story. I wanted it to be its own standalone Chapter because it marks such an important shift in her character and her journey that it deserves to be taken in singularly. Enjoy the sweet pain, ya’ll. 

--

A day had passed with a suspicious air of anticipation. The Council meeting was an opportunity for Theia to instill a diversion for her advisors, and cover for Naomi during her recovery. She still feared Leliana knew everything and was holding her tongue, either to see if the Inquisitor would rely upon honesty, or to see how far this would go.

That night, Theia’s concern couldn’t be put to bed. When the middle of the night provided the utmost darkness, she slipped out of Josephine’s slumbering arms and put on on some dark and simple resting clothes to help camouflage her as she snuck her way down to the Prisoner’s cells.

There, down in the cold and cavernous chamber, she found Olivia asleep on a cot on the outside of the cell for her own safety. She was bundled in a wool blanket, oddly formal in contrast to her surroundings. Maybe she had went and grabbed it from her own belongings. As she briefly stood over her sleeping friend, she saw an embroidered emblem on an exposed corner of the blanket.

They were a series of letters, “C.A.P.C.P.” She only knew one person with such a need for that acronym. But, in that moment, it did not register in her fatigued and preoccupied mind.

Turning her attention to the occupant of the cell across the way, she took the keys beside Olivia and found her way into the cell, slowly and carefully opening and closing the door so as not to create any loud noise which would bring attention. The Prison guards had been dismissed earlier that day using an underhanded request on the Inquisitor’s part -- though, she did not think they would actually do it. It surprised her, and at the same time, left her relieved that this would ensure privacy.

Coming to her friend’s bedside, she saw that she was still unconscious. She immediately felt guilty for inducing such a state, though, the alternative would have been exponentially more torturous. Naomi’s face was peaceful, if not stoic. Her hands still rested on her abdomen where Theia had placed them. She looked freshly cleaned with a washcloth, her hair lightly glistening with lingering moisture. Olivia and Anya were doing their best to ensure her survival and care.

Theia leaned down and sat on the floor beside her, up against the wall and beside Naomi’s head and shoulders. She anchored her elbows on her upward bent knees. Resting her head back on the wall, she rolled her eyes clothes and let out a sigh of duress. This was a most unpleasant business, even if seeing her friends safe and close by had been something she had desired for so long. Naomi’s anger aside, she had missed and longed for her friends even when she had denied seeking them out.

Theia could remember a day back at Haven where the thought occurred to her to send for them, to send Leliana’s trackers after them. She then stopped herself, fearing the trackers would end up dead, or even worse, that they would find her former comrades dead. Perhaps she avoided it because she feared that ultimate disaster: how could she continue on, knowing she had left her first allies, her friends, for dead? Theia was a brave woman, but she was also curtailed by fears of her own failure.

Her eyes remained closed as she thought back to all those wild memories. Naomi was indeed responsible for patching up the Inquisitor’s ass even when it seemed most hopeless. She had kept her alive and well even when their situation was so sordid, she felt convinced any day would be her last. Always following after Olivia when she did her machinations, tracking and hunting with Veronica so as to ensure she wouldn’t get caught by Templars or bandits. Naomi was always there after the chaos subsided, steady as a horizon line.

Now, she was here, and she was lost in more ways than one.

A voice, aching and gravelled, broke her contemplation in the dark.

“You always sulked like a...a wounded dog, at night,” Naomi, her head tilted to look at her restless friend, eyes slit open ever-so-slightly.

“Naomi,” Theia hummed, not looking surprised, but on the inside ready to dance in reckless celebration. She tilted her head, too, towards her friend on her cot. “I am so sorry.”

“Theia,” Naomi breathed, “you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do, I really, I--” she didn’t expect it so suddenly, but tears began to well around her purple irises that were steeping in remorse. She bit her lip as she felt her voice crack and ache. “I cannot forgive myself for leaving you to suffer like this.”

Naomi managed to shift the weight in her chest, settling in more comfortably even in her weakness. The windowless chambers underground yielded little light for them to see each other fully, but the light that had bounced off one remaining torch in the hall was just enough for Naomi to see the tears form.

“Theia,” she whispered, “demons had come for me long before you...you ever ran away.”

The Inquisitor’s brow furrowed with sadness as she turned to look at her, a gasp under her breath at the admittance. How long before? Was she still with them when they began tempting her and seeping into her subconscious? Why didn’t she say anything?

“I don’t understand.”

“I…” Naomi took a breath, feeling the frailty in her frame and muscles. “When they first sent me to the Circle, I was reckless in my powers. I was so in love with it, even when...when they tried...to teach me to h-hate myself. They threatened…” she gulped, feeling dryness in her throat, “they wanted to make me tranquil, so as to preempt any danger I could p-pose to the Circle and to the Tem...Templars.” she swallowed again, head resting heavily on her pillow.

Theia’s eyes widened in horror. Naomi had never told this story, not to anyone, and now she was hearing it after all this time. It was a wonder they never knew or picked up on such a history with her, she had done such a masterful job of putting on this facade of a well-meaning and pragmatic Mage who always wanted to be a Healer.

“So, what stopped them?”

Naomi blinked with heavy eyelids, before her gaze reconnected with Theia’s sorrowful eyes.

“I offered to dedicate myself...to healing...and I proved my worth. In return for saving...someone’s life, I was allowed to remain unchanged.”

“Who’s life did you save?”

“...cannot say.”

Theia let her legs rest straight now. She was puzzled, but, perhaps some details must always remain secrets. Naomi had managed to keep her truth close to her chest for this long, maybe for her sake, she deserved to have some dignity remain.

“I wish you would have sought any of us out, when you knew it was this bad. I know it can be hard, but, surely you knew I would never turn you away.”

“I...I didn’t trust the Inquisition. Not until you brought in the Mages, they...they needed you. But, by that...time, I had already allowed...my anger...to set in.”

Theia sighed. “So there was nothing we could have done, except now?”

Naomi looked at her, a face of apologetic agreement. She had spent too long stifling what was coming for her soul, and when the time came to choose whether or not she would seek out her former allies or let them control her moods, that was when Heath was murdered. His death crossed the line for her, and it felt as though the following months were all an enraged and bloodthirsty fever dream.

Now, feeling the most at peace as she had been in a long time, she finally felt able to look at her life with some clarity. Well, when she could have time to recover from all of this.

“I...will always be a...liability,” she said bittersweetly.

“That’s not true at all, Naomi. We can support you, give you a purpose, you can move on.”

“I have been...haunted...for y-years. This is only buying me time.”

Theia’s jaw began to clench as she felt the impasse they were heading towards, and she was not having any of it. Naomi being so resigned in her doom was everything Theia had always dreaded when it came to any of her friends: not being able to help, not being able to convince them of their value. She was responsible, she was the defender, but how could she do that when the lives she was protecting refused to believe in their own worth?

“You cannot...have me here...they would never….never...allow it,” she cleared her throat weakly, feeling at the end of her energies for talking. She knew Theia would want to anger until the sun rose about this, but now was not the time.

“I need...rest, Theia. You should return to...to your bed. I am alive,” she said once more.

Theia’s eyes were increasing with tear production, and she rubbed her face with her hands, resisting the urge to growl and wake up dear Olivia. She hid her face for a moment, trying to recollect her thoughts, refocus her opinions. Naomi was silent and demure about something she should have been honest about, dammit. Maybe then this could have been avoided. She felt betrayed by her friend’s self-preservation.

“Fine. But this is not the end of this,” Theia grumbled, motioning to rise to her feet. As she did so, she saw out of the corner of her eye that Naomi’s hand was fidgeting. Now on her feet, she turned and watched it: Naomi was trying to grasp for her, to comfort her.

Theia blinked harshly, trying to scare away more tears from her eyes as she placed her hand on Naomi’s wrist, stilling her. Their eyes met again, and Naomi’s heart ached seeing Theia’s tearful paleness in the scarce firelight.

“I mean it, Naomi. This is not the end,” she said, her voice cracking with crying.

“Shh,” Naomi stuttered, “go to….go so sleep,” she sighed with difficulty.

Theia nodded in obedience, pulling away and feeling every bone in her body disagree with her detachment. She made her way through the door again, agonizing over not making a sound. Turning to see Olivia, still fast asleep, she held her breath and felt her chest tense with misery. She wanted to break down, sob like a child, and let go. But she was needed, her strength was needed. Damn it all.

She placed the keys back where she found them. Just before she was going to walk out the door and back into her bed chambers up levels from where this all was, she cursed under her breath. This was so terrible, this was so painful.

Rethinking her choice, she went to the side of Olivia’s cot, and pulled at the blanket. She heard Olivia groan in reaction to the disturbance, and she looked over her shoulder to see Theia standing above her, looking like a child who had experienced a nightmare.

“T-Theia? What..?” she groaned, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

“Olivia…” her voice cracked again, her cheeks soaked with salted tears. When her friend realized the depth of her emotional pain in the moment, she lurched up.

“Oh, sweet thing,” she whispered, pulling out the blankets, “come here.”

Theia crawled and tucked herself as best she could -- thank the Maker Olivia was petite in comparison to her tall and muscular frame -- and curled herself towards her friend. As they split the one pillow she had, Olivia nestled back into between the covers, their foreheads touching as she rubbed Theia’s arms.

Theia’s eyes were half-closed as she tried to compose herself.

“I don’t know what I am doing, Olivia. I am failing everyone,” she cooed, her throat thickening with the feeling of weeping.

“Shh,” Olivia replied, sweetly kissing her friend’s forehead, before slipping an arm underneath Theia’s shoulder and pulling her into an embrace. “You are doing so well, my dear.”

Theia nustled her head into the crook of Olivia’s nimble shoulder, feeling the bony nature of her frame and being comfortable in its hold all the same. She felt her friend start to stroke her hair. Being cradled by a woman 5 inches shorter than her was proving more comforting than she would have estimated.

“You lie well,” Theia sniffled.

“I do not. It’s actually my worst talent,” Olivia cooed.

“Why did I leave you? Why am I such a coward?”

Olivia tightened her hold on her dear friend, feeling so sorry and sympathetic to her in her time of grief. Olivia had spent many a night abroad, wayward and not knowing where her next meal was coming from, hating herself for the same reasons. She knew what it was like to loathe yourself for doing what was necessary for survival. It took time, but eventually she accepted her past choices, and now she wished Theia would do the same.

“You are the bravest of all of us, Theia-Bird. Hush up with your nonsense,” she said, a melancholic grin on her lips as she spoke.

“Hmph,” she heard Theia huff.

Olivia rustled on her side of the single-person cot, adjusting the way the blankets fit around her body and tucking her bare feet underneath, feeling her toes grow cold. “What are any of us but a bunch of siren Mages who’s misadventures toy with men’s emotions and spurn Empires to have disdain for our existences.”

Theia inhaled with emotional exhaustion on her tongue. “I suppose a bunch of fools, for one. Pretty little fools.”

“But, pretty, nonetheless.”

Theia grinned on one side of her mouth. “Is that all we should aspire to, then?”

Olivia cozied her face into her pillow. “Certainly not, my dear. We should be a hardened warrior, a leader of an Inquisition, a beguiling assassin, an overly-romantic potion master, and a talented healer with the best intentions.”

Theia stayed quiet, chewing on the point Olivia was trying to make. They had done more than survived, even when it felt they were hip-deep in the consequences of their haphazard choices. They had made people of themselves, stuck by their convictions, and found ways to preserve their virtues even when the odds were stacked against them. 

“I hear you overthinking, Theia. It is the truth. Now, dry those tears of yours before they freeze over like that one time,” Olivia’s grin expanded, picturing such a hilarious memory.

Theia couldn’t help but smirk, wiping her face on the pillow cover. “I swear, it was an accident,” she giggled under her breath.

“You looked like an ice Queen,” Olivia giggled, too, but was louder. She was always bad at concealing her silliness. The two women shared a brief concert of giggles and sly smiles, feeling embraced by their memories.

“Olivia?” Theia said once they had calmed down. Her friend, eyes closed as she was beginning to desire sleep once more, hummed in return, as if to say what is it, my dearest beloved friend?

“Where exactly did this blanket come from?”

Olivia gave a cheeky smile with no teeth as she placed a hand on Theia’s face.

“Shhh shh, you’re upset, my dear, close those eyes and find rest.”

Theia, smirking as she slapped her friend’s hand away, cozied into the sheets and sighed. “I see, well, I’ll ask again in the morning.”

[sixspencenonethewiser-blog]

A Year Ago

A year ago I was living for everyone else and was acutely awake of this fact. Nothing I did or attempted to change made my mental state any better. I did things simply because I thought that's what people wanted for me to appear normal. I didn't know what was wrong with me, my mind was a terrifying place to be and I felt as if I was looking at my life in a mirror upside down. I didn't even know what I wanted anymore. I was lost and too proud to admit there was something wrong. I was severely depressed and unhappy with myself and my current situation. There wasn't a single thing that made me feel anything but miserable. I saw no way out, however, I conscientiously stayed in this routine torture because the thought of disappointing the people who cared about me scared me more than the actual act of suicide itself. The part that scared me the most was that the fear of disappointment was quickly being out weighed by the nagging depression of living so miserably.

And it showed. I was withdrawn, angry, anxious. I lashed out at my partner for no reason. I pushed everyone away as far as I could and retreated into my little ball of hate and anguish. I refused to let anyone in and I refused to talk about my problems and seek the appropriate help. I just wanted everyone and everything to shut up and leave me alone.

My partner tried, he never gave up, but he did get tired. In our entire time of being together we had never really had an argument that was anything more than "I thought I asked you to do the dishes?" "Well I thought you were doing laundry, but here we are." Nothing ever too serious. However even he, the infallible, valiant nobleman reached a breaking point and said almost defeatedly: "I just don't know how to help you anymore."

And at that point, I honestly thought, "well yeah, it's because there is no helping me, obviously."

I had a plan. I wasn't going to let this cycle continue another year. I wasn't going to make it to my 25th birthday, I didn't want to make it that long. I didn't think I COULD make it that long. There was no point and every day felt like I was living someone else's life. I just wanted to give it back and not have the weight of being uncomfortable in my skin to go on any longer. I was tired. I saw no light at the end of the tunnel. I was done.

It was a hot summer day. My alarm went off and I opened my eyes, disappointed that some illness or masked murderer hadn't taken me out in my sleep. I stared at the ceiling dreading the day in front of me. See the thing is, when you don't want to be alive, everything is exhausting. By the time I was in the car and headed to school I was already ready to climb back into bed and start over the next day.

I had long ago learned that the best way assure those around you that you are fine is to slip on a perfectly crafted mask of how they perceive you to be and then ham it up until they leave you alone. And this is exactly what I did to face my colleagues and peers at school.

I couldn't remember the last time I had enjoyed a day, let alone my birthday, the constant reminder that time was moving forward while I was stuck in this weird limbo sort of numbness that made everything dull and aggravating for no discernible reason. All the days had become a blur of monotony and my birthday made no difference.

I was at my lowest point of depression. If you had asked me at that point if I could tell you one thing I loved, or even liked about myself, I could honestly tell you there wasn't a single thing. I was so desperate to be done with this burden of life, I despised myself to my very core.

I was so empty, so numb, yet this numbness had a cutting, lethal edge to it. This biting ache, like when your ears get SUPER cold outside in winter because you thought, "I have a hood; I wont need a hat, it'll be fine." And then the cold hits you and you instantly regret it. The numbness taking over was like that sharp ache only it felt like it was consuming me from the inside out, slowly devouring every part of me until I was just motioning through the days but not actually there.

The day dissolved into its regular depressive cloud. Petty arguments with my partner, a tactic to wedge distance between him and I. I had this terrifying thought that had been buzzing at the pack of my mind for 6 months and I was at the breaking point, either it was going to come out and I admit it to myself and the world, or I die; as dramatic as that sounds, that is how it boiled down in my head. Either way was going to anger, disappoint, hurt and confuse the people in my ĺife; only one of them I didn't have to deal with the fallout.

I had this daunting question looming over my every move: "could this be the answer to what has you feeling so lost?"

I had worked on Hedwig, which after listening to the soundtrack 400 times, some of the songs had sort of started to resonate with me, it freaked me out, to be honest. I wondered what it meant for my life. I secretly tumbled my way on to some blogs and read about other people's journeys, I talked with a childhood friend who had transitioned and another friend who was just entering the process for themselves and they both had this.. tenacity. This wild drive, passion and genuine love for the skin they were in. I was jealous and couldn't put my finger on why. They had something that I had always been longing to find, I just didn't think that I deserved to be happy like that. It would make too many people upset with me.

I had given up, I just didn't care anymore. I honestly didn't think I could ever be who I wanted to be. In my mind I had committed myself to a certain way of living and there was no turning back. I had simply gone too far to suddenly demand to turn everything around and ask for something I wasn't sure I wanted; something I wasn't sure would help or even something I thought I was even capable of.

Rather than face my problems and figure out what the hell was going on inside my head, I wanted the easy way.

A year ago I planned to not be on the planet anymore.

A year ago I planned to kill myself.

My partner was at a loss. "I really think we should get you some help. Clearly what we're doing isn't working. I don't even know who you are anymore."

I knew I had to say something. If I wasn't going to be on this planet at least he deserved to know why. I took a deep breath and the lump in my throat finally broke free after months of sitting there and before my lips could stop it I just said it. "I think I might be trans." The words fell into my lap like a lead weight. The silence was heavy as we both waited for the other person to speak.

After a tense few moments my partner exhaled slowly. "So, what do we do now?"

Those six words saved my life.

The thought that I had any control over my life and what was happening had never been a possibility before. I had always just gone along with whatever was expected of me and hadn't ever deviated from the mold of what my life was supposed to be. What do we do? I had never questioned if there were options to my dilemma. Do? There was nothing to do. I could never take something like that for myself. I didn't deserve what ever answers this may provide me. It wasn't according to the plan.

Ever the support, my partner constantly attempted to talk be back from the ledge. "I love you no matter what. Fuck anyone else who doesn't."

This opinion sparked a whole new set of crisis questions. The kind that shake you to your core. I was trans, I had said it out loud and not burst into flames.. what did this mean?

Of course I knew broad strokes of what it meant to be transgender, and I knew I identified with what I understood, but there was still a lot of late night tumblr and youtube, ugly cry, information seshes going on to try and understand just what the hell was budding down in my soul.

I spent months agonizing over how I was going to tell people. My partner and I had chosen a name and he had begun to call me Spence. I tested the waters of this new found identity and told my sister. She and I cried and had a lengthy discussion about what I wanted and what this meant for my life. She told me she supported me 100% and was on my side no matter what or who I decided to be.

The first time I got called Spence was the first day, in my life, I had the thought: "oh, this is why people get up and not hate themselves to the point of death every morning."

Spence was important.

Spence was cared about.

Spence had people in his corner.

These few words were the ones I really needed. I had my little support group who knew what was going on in my heart and in my brain and were letting me figure it out. This gave me the confidence to be comfortable with the human I had discovered in the mirror.

A year ago I was finally honest with myself and those who care about me most.

A year ago Spence was born, from the ashes of a miserable life, like a Phoenix.

A year ago was the honest last time I seriously considered killing myself.

Spence saved my life.

[nebula-starlight]

Corrupt (Part 9 - Consequence)

The early morning light shone in through the large windows of the kitchen, illuminating from behind a hunched, shadowy figure as it rocked on its heels, the faintest glow of aura rippling wildly across its crouched form. Hands scrunched through its navy dark hair as its rocking only increased with the softest hint of a held back whimper. It had been several days since he last rested, unnatural paranoia nearly driving him mad. He’d managed to hide away from Jack well enough, knowing he would eventually have to make himself presentable given the Youtuber had recently announced a brief break from his channel during the holidays to recharge.

He saw shadows everywhere he went in the corner of his vision, taunting him with cruel reminders of all the crimes he’d committed in the past. Even if he tried to close his eyes, that’s when the nightmares would start. They were probably just events from his life but twisted to put him through unimaginable horror. So he kept going, hiding away in the shadows to conceal the frequent tremors and cracks of his aura as it manifested of its own accord. He even changed his outfit, creating a large grey hoodie and dark pants to further blend in.

As he kneeled in the silent kitchen, another broken whimper managed to escape as he dug his fingers further through his hair. Normality... To think he actually had the gal to believe he wasn’t a freak of nature. No known creature in the history of the Realms had ever split their soul in half and then kept existing after the portion they shared with their mate extinguished itself. Sure he was the one to blame for her demise but what she was reborn into wasn’t his fault. Versi had become Void through her own exposure to dark magic even before being Corrupted. After all, he had only been responsible for tracking her down upon his return. Killing her hadn’t even been his plan but she couldn’t leave things well enough alone and jumped him after he shattered her wingblades and depleted her magic. Instinct had guided him into whirling around, one talon aimed right at her throat as she lunged...

Nether slowly released the breath he’d been holding, letting the air shakily leave his stolen lungs before inhaling once more. Geer still struggled to get free on occasion but it had become easy to bind the imprisoned drake with twisted shadows that further sapped away his strength. Cruel though it might be, he didn’t need to fight the weaker being on top of the symptoms he had to cope with on a daily basis.

While sleepless nights and tremors could be hidden with enough illusions, not to mention his new wardrobe, the last few days had brought on yet another complication. He couldn’t eat. Well he could but there was no guarantee it would stay down long. The frequent nausea had only made him even more irritable, pushing his control further out of his grasp to the point where he wanted nothing more than to explode in a fury. He restrained himself however, barely functioning on a day to day basis.

A tortured scream burst through his lips as he suddenly stood, aura snapping out around him and plunging the whole kitchen into a varying degree of red. He swayed unsteadily on his feet, hands still buried in his hair as he closed his eyes and let the energy freely seep out. This was killing him. Trying to pretend he was human while battling the body he’d taken for himself on every turn.

Pulling one hand free with a snarl, he glared at the pale skin, watching as it started to tremble. The bipedal form was too weak for his purposes, only serving to impede him and delay his progress towards the goal of finding Void. She needed to be beside him. It was for the best, so she couldn’t hurt anyone else. He’d given her too many chances already and those had only proven what he knew to be true. Parasites like her didn’t deserve to exist in any world.

He suddenly froze, hearing footsteps coming down from upstairs and he snarled softly under his breath, pulling back his aura into his core. The process left him even more exhausted, his head nearly buried in his chest as Jack entered in worry.

“You okay Geer? I heard you shout earlier...”

Nether sucked in a breath, panic starting to come over him as his rather identifiable aura still remained visible around his hands. He didn’t even have most of his illusions up, expecting the boy to be occupied for several more hours. Now he’d roused the Irishman accidentally.

“I- I’m fine,” he choked out, struggling to keep his own thick accent out of the words as it would immediately tip off the human.

He heard Jack approach, padded footsteps crossing the tiled floor while he kept his eyes firmly on the ground even as he felt the tremors start up again. The boy would know instantly if he saw his eyes, dark sclera with slitted crimson irises. Why had he decided to let some of his frustration out?

“I have an idea for the next game I wanted to play.” Jack continued, oblivious to the fact that Nether wanted him out of the kitchen. “I was wondering if you could help me out. You see it’s a horror game and well...”

His control slipped, a dark growl ripping free from his throat as he turned and glared at the Youtuber. Jack halted in his tracks, hair still messy from sleep and eyes going wide as the spirit started forward. His aura clung to his hands, warmth actually being generated as he crossed the short distance between them.

“Don’t you dare tempt that demon out,” he rasped, snarling as his voice echoed in anger. “The last time you did you almost died and lost an entire week while He walked around in your skin. Anti would jump at the chance to get out but don’t expect me to save you this time. I’m not the weakling Geer was, boy.”

Nether crossed his arms, clenching his fists and then releasing them to keep the tremors at bay. He shouldn’t have lashed out but he couldn’t help himself, he needed some way to relax since sleep was an avenue he preferred not to trend down. Nightmares weren’t pleasant... especially the ones he’d seen whenever he ended up passing out.

He watched Jack’s expression change, terrified worry becoming an equally steely determination before the Irishman turned and left the kitchen. Nether didn’t want to follow but he knew he had no choice. Huffing under his breath, he started for the stairs to the second floor, aura crackling slightly as he fought to reign himself back in.

Footsteps thundered up the staircase as Nether hurried after Jack, his aura expanding out around him stronger than he could temporarily control. Forget trying to be subtle! Was the boy really that brainless to the point where he’d turn around months after the fiasco at Halloween to play something that would invite the demon out not even three months later. For Sol’s sake, he had a better chance of corralling hatchlings than he had of getting into the Irishman’s head just how terrible of an idea it was.

“Jack-“ His voice cracked, pausing for a second to fight down the flutter of his stomach nervously. “Jack listen to me! Don’t do this series you’d planned on.”

By the time he finished climbing the stairs, the Youtuber was already at the other end of the hallway, one hand on the door handle to his recording room. Nether scowled as he stalked forward, wisps of a lighter red, almost magenta in color flickering into existence behind him before vanishing.

“Damn it, boy. At least think about this first! There’s no telling how long Anti will want out this time!” He started to chastise the Irishman further but quickly realized he wasn’t getting through no matter what he said. “Just... Just be careful. You know if you don’t feel well enough to record. Don’t push yourself, especially since that glitch is probably still fuming up there in your head about what happened last time.”

His steps slowed as he went down the hall, unusual vulnerably rising to the surface in place of his earlier rage. “Jack- No, I don’t deserve to call you that for this. Look, Seán, I know exactly what will happen the minute you give Anti any chance to escape his mental prison. He’ll fight like hell to avoid going back there... something I hate to say I’m far too familiar with myself.”

“Where’s Geer?”

The disappointed look he received made Nether wonder just how long Jack had toyed around with the thought it wasn’t the calm drake he’d been around, especially once he started shrinking away into the shadows. He couldn’t blame the boy for being suspicious with what all when on in his head. His steps slowed as he neared, aura vanishing completely as he buried his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie.

“He hasn’t been here for weeks... Since you came back actually.”

Jack’s hand tightened on the door handle, his eyes briefly flickering green instead of their normal soft blue. “You made me think it was him all this time. All those weeks and you just watched... why?”

“Curiosity, I suppose.” He shrugged, avoiding the attention as he glanced down at the carpeted floor. “You were never in danger.”

“Oh really? What about what just happened in the kitchen? You wanted to murder someone- something there.”

Nether snorted, cracking his neck as his gaze drifted back to the human. Yes he let himself go too far but it amused him to see Jack pick up on his behavioral quirks so quickly. “Trust me, boy, that’s far from a murderous look. I was irritate, true, but I had it under control.”

“What control did you have?” His eyes narrowed, hearing the echoed soft giggle of Anti as Jack lifted his hand away and turned to face him.

“Nein. I’m not discussing this with you, Glitch. Go away before I make you.”

“Well, well, you do share something with that doctor. I had my suspicions from how much you tried to disguise your accent but I guess you just don’t care anymore, do you?”

Anti chuckled, green eyes flashing bright before he vanished in a burst of glitches. He reappeared shortly afterward behind Nether, holding a knife up to his neck. The spirit hissed in annoyance, aura manifesting around him protectively before he groaned and clutched at his head. Pain burst through his skull, rattling the chains that kept Geer immobile. When he regained his senses, he found he had collapsed to the floor, the glitch pinning him down with a foot on his chest.

“Get off!” He wheezed, irises blazing as the demon snickered softly, knife leveled at his throat.

“And why should I? You trapped me back in his head the last time I trusted you. I had a perfectly good puppet willing to serve me but you had to interfere, didn’t you? You talk about my controlling nature but you’re just as bad if not worse.”

Nether growled, eyes narrowing as he grabbed Anti’s leg. His touch burned as he focused his aura to generate heat, a trait all spirits had originally possessed to keep themselves warm. With a screech, the glitch retreated, knife quivering in his hand until he backed up into the recording room door.

“Don’t test me.” The low, rumbled hiss echoed as the crimson glow dissolved back into his body, slowly standing up with some support from the wall nearby. “I’m not in the mood for mind games right now.”

“Really? I thought you always were since you love screwing with people’s heads so much. Illusions are YOUR speciality after all!”

He felt the flutter of his stomach again but tuned it out, glaring at the demon as Anti stalked forward. Acting on his feet, Nether grabbed the glitch’s wrist, forcing him to drop the knife as he kicked it out of the way. Red irises gleamed as he grinned, catching the fist that tried to come his way with his other hand.

“Now we’re on equal footing here. No knifes or fancy glitches. I’ve dealt with your kind before. In fact, my own love happens to be nearly the same thing. Trust me then when I say you’re better off walking away before you do something stupid.”

The glitch squirmed, not expecting Nether to be as strong as he was. Yes his shoulders were broad for a human, a trait carried over from Geer’s draconian form, but he suspected Anti had thought his illness had weakened him. In all honesty it had to a degree but he was still pleased he could hold his own. Without his foe’s ability to teleport, he had an even better chance to come out on top.

“You interest me, soul,” Anti spat, glitches distorting his skin as the soft hum of static grew in volume to a much more audible level. “If you weren’t fighting against me, I might be willing to consider you an ally. Fool me once though...”

“Fool me twice, it’s your blunder.”

He cracked his neck, an animalistic roar tearing from his throat as he shoved the demon back and pinned him against the door to the recording room. One hand grabbed the throat laid bare before him while silently eyeing the blade that was only inches away from his foot.

“I could carve you up like my dearest prefers but...” Nether let his voice drop as he pressed down harder, embracing the threatening rumble that had been amplified since his bodily decay. “I have other means mine Glitch. Reality is nothing more than a see-through web and I alone hold the scissors to rip it apart at my desire.”

The faint shimmer of magenta appeared again behind him, almost immediately blending in with the reddish glow his aura produced as it expanded outward. He felt the throb of pain shoot through his head at the energy’s emergence but he ignored it, fully engrossed in the rush that control brought him. Anti wouldn’t get away now! He’d held back the first he encountered the glitch but he knew now what his foe was capable of doing.

“I played along with the fool for long enough - learning his mannerisms to add to my array of abilities. I was perfectly willing to wait longer but he made one fatal mistake that forced mine hand. Geer lost control... tried to tap into magic far beyond him. Only I reign over illusions and he dared to go too far - putting both of your lives at risk. So I intervened, took what was rightfully mine from the start.”

“You trapped him.” Anti wheezed, trying and failing to glitch away. “Great to know. Now get on with what you have planned.”

Nether chuckled, motioning with his free hand towards the fallen blade. “Oh, you mean the knife? Nein, dear Glitch. I have no need of it now. What I do need is you to help me. You see, mental manipulation is a tricky business and well... you seem to have a direct affect on what the boy remembers.” He paused, watching the glare he received slowly develop as the demon realized what was being asked. “Just short his memory out for today. No images of a red-eyed soul trying to deal with fate’s punishment. Let him start that series he wants, heck even glitch it out yourself and I won’t raise a hand to stop you. Consider it my thanks for helping me hide this a bit longer.”

“He’ll still be suspicious even if I do what you want. Why not do it yourself anyway?”

He let go without a word at first, taking a step back as he clenched his hands automatically to help keep the trembling at bay. “Any use of mine magic gives me a nasty headache but if I don’t do anything then it just builds up inside and I lose control and get a bit... well... let’s just say Jack saw something he wasn’t supposed to this morning.”

“When you threw the whole kitchen into a bloody glow?” Anti suggested, twitching slightly in place before he massaged his throat.

“Exactly. Aural transfusion is a more common term. I hadn’t intended to wake him but I couldn’t sleep and with the- It had just built up too much and I needed a release. The room should be back to its natural colors now by the way. Letting excess energy flood into the air tends to act like taking a paintbrush to multiple objects.”

He watched Anti carefully, also keeping an eye on the knife in case the glitch tried to go after it. Nearly a full minute passed before the demon sighed, glaring at him but finding no reason to argue.

“Fine, I’ll see what I can do. You owe me for this though!”

“And I already promised you that you could glitch up his next series as much as you want. You do desire attention from his fans after all... Always running back to them like a misbehaving little mutt who begs to be loved.” Nether chuckled softly at his choice of words, taking notice of the slight glitching that briefly distorted Anti’s form. “I do have one more thing to ask before you leave though, if that’s fair.”

“What is it?”

“Will Jack forget or will he be too afraid to remember?”

[starcharmfunzies]

Kept Awake, a Venqua oneshot

Summary: The Realm of Darkness left some scars in Aqua that she's not willing to share, but if she wants the hurt to end one day she needs to open up to her friends. What's left is for someone to make her realize that. One-sided venqua.

Sitting completely upright on his bed Ven sighed as he looked out the window. Though hidden behind the clouds the moon was at the peak of the sky, signaling that it wouldn’t be a few more hours before sunrise.

Another sleepless night. Despite being a part of a raging battle and having his conscience at ease knowing that Xehanort wouldn’t return Ven barely managed to sleep. He should have been tired, eager for some rest after everything that had happened, but as much as he lied down and closed his eyes sleep never came for him.

Ten years was a long time to be sleeping, perhaps that was why his mind and body refused to go back to sleep.

Standing up from the bed wearing only a saggy short-sleeved shirt and a pair of shorts Ven put on his shoes and wandered out of his room. The hallways of the castle were dark and empty, but after wandering around many previous nights he was able to find his way without a light just fine.

As he passed Terra and Aqua’s room he made sure to take soft steps to not wake either up, a little jealous that his friends were getting some well-deserved shut eye. Ven smiled sadly to himself; out of all three he was the one that deserved to rest the less. Terra and Aqua had spent the last decade suffering while he was just sleeping. They deserved to have peaceful nights for themselves.

Walking by his Master’s old study Ven gently bowed his head in respect. Despite winning the war not all of the hearts that had been lost were saved, and the Land of Departure was left without its former guardian. The least they could do for Eraqus was take his place.

Stepping out into the courtyard Ven felt a warm summer breeze caress his face. He breathed in the fresh air of the mountains and looked up at the stars as he continued walking. If he couldn’t conceal any sleep in such a pleasant night then he could at least stargaze. However, as he got closer to their favorite stargazing spot Ven noticed that some of the lights nearby were turned on.

Furrowing his eyebrows confused Ven hurried his steps in that direction, recalling that the lights wouldn’t turn on unless someone was there. His thoughts of an unwelcome guest somehow managing to sneak into the vicinity of the castle without them noticing was cast away as Ven discerned the very familiar shape of Aqua sitting on the grass.

Surprised to find Aqua awake so late Ven quietly took a seat next to her. She was only wearing her white nightgown, meaning that she had actually gone to bed before eventually going outside.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Aqua retorted mildly amused, not taking her eyes off the sky.

Ven shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m not tired.”

Aqua didn’t seem to question him on that statement and remained quiet.

Ven had been ready for Aqua to insist he returned to bed and at least try to sleep, but when it never came he couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy.

Ever since they had returned both him and Terra noticed that Aqua seemed to grow a little distant, very often deep in her thoughts and distracted. And though she didn’t treat them any different from how she always had the bags under her eyes that slowly became more noticeable and the fake smiles she mustered far too often were concerning. They had asked many times if she was okay, but Aqua always reassured them with a sweet smile that she was perfectly fine.

Looking closer at Aqua’s face Ven frowned preoccupied at seeing she looked completely exhausted. The bags under her eyes were still there, her face seemed almost a little pale, her eyelids were halfway closed, and her eyes looked empty and cold.

“Aqua, have you been sleeping well?” Ven spoke up concerned, leaning a little forward as he looked at her face.

“Not particularly.” Aqua confessed in a tired sigh.

Because Ven had never encountered Aqua in his many sleepless nights he thought she had been resting just fine, but taking a closer look it was easy to tell that hadn’t been the case.

Ven remained quiet waiting for Aqua to elaborate, but when the silence between them dragged on he realized she didn’t want to talk about it.

This wasn’t the first thing Aqua had preferred to not share with him and Terra. In fact, after their fight with Xehanort was over the three shared a heartfelt reunion, taking the time to talk about everything they had gone through, but out of the three Aqua was the one that had spoken the less.

Terra opened his heart of what it had been like to be imprisoned by Xehanort, everything he had felt, his desperation, his regrets, his frustration and anger of not knowing any better, of being so powerless against him. Ven had shared what it had been like to live through Sora’s eyes, to feel so helpless when he knew everyone needed him, to carry the hurt of those others that found refuge in Sora’s heart and to spend years just silently praying that his friends were okay.

But Aqua, she didn’t say anything.

She had cried and hugged them both happily, rejoiced that they were both safe and sound.

“It’s been so long… I thought I’d stay there for the rest of my life. I thought I’d never see you again.”

They knew nothing of what happened in the Realm of Darkness. That place that kept Aqua imprisoned for so long, that tortured her beyond their imagination and drove her to the brink of despair.

If she didn’t want to talk about what was not letting her sleep…

Ven glanced in Aqua’s direction. She wasn’t paying him any more attention, almost like he wasn’t there at all. Her eyes were lost in the stars as she bore a blank expression on her face that Ven wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret.

“Are you having nightmares of the Realm of Darkness?”

Aqua gasped quietly with a startled flinch. She turned to look at Ven with a mixture of dread and surprise, wondering how he came to that deduction so effortlessly, but also quietly begging him to not push the subject.

Ven softened his eyes in sympathy and looked down at his hands with a sad smile.

“I know what it’s like. Having nightmares.” He clarified. “I still get them from time to time, but I’m pretty sure that not as often as you do.”

Aqua remained silent as she listened intently. So Ven had nightmares too? What could possibly have happened to him that still haunted him in his dreams?

Ven frowned as images of Aqua unconscious on the ground with a Keyblade aimed at her heart flashed through his mind.

“I always woke up overwhelmed, like it had been real. So whenever that happened I took walks around the castle, to remind myself where I really was. Seeing the rooms and the mountains brought me back to reality.” Ven looked back at Aqua with a gentle smile. “Does stargazing help you Aqua?”

Aqua returned the smile and nodded.

“It’s soothing.” She glanced back at the sky in melancholy. “Back in the Realm of Darkness I couldn’t see the sky, this sky that all the worlds share, so I never saw the sun or the stars. Seeing them with my own eyes after so long feels so… comforting.”

Ven felt his heart sink inside his chest. A place where the warmth of the sun or the serene twinkling of the stars could never reach, where time wasn’t real and no matter how many steps you took your body would never decay of hunger or restlessness. There was no way a single soul could bear the burden of carrying those horrors. He wanted her to share more with him, to give him some of that heavy load on her shoulders that would eventually bring her down.

Aqua didn’t say anything else as Ven stood silent and quietly admired her in awe.

She was so strong. She was incredibly strong.

But even the strongest of wills could be broken with enough time.

“Aqua.”

Ven whispered, causing her eyes to fall back on him.

“Why won’t you tell us what happened in the Realm of Darkness?” Ven muttered softly.

Aqua looked away as she frowned.

“It won’t do you any good to keep it to yourself.” Ven immediately added in an attempt to reassure her. “Talking about it can help.”

The moment the words left him Ven was overwhelmed with guilt.

Aqua’s body stiffened and her eyes closed as she debated with herself what to say. He could tell she was hesitant, unwilling to share anything that could bring her back unpleasant memories. Seeing her so upset firsthand almost made him wish he could take that sentence back, but deep within him Ven knew that he was right.

Aqua took a deep breath, slowly opening her eyes again to face Ven. Just like she had done many times in the past few days Aqua mustered a patient smile.

“Sometimes there are things that people don’t want to share.” Aqua replied calmly. “I’m sure you know what that is like Ven. I already know without you telling me that there is something you’re keeping a secret from me and Terra, but I still respect your wish to do so.”

Ven frowned conflicted. She was right, there was one secret in particular he had been keeping from his best friends and he had vowed to never reveal. Ven took a moment to briefly look over Aqua once again. Her face showed nothing but emotional and mental exhaustion, but she still looked beautiful in his eyes. His heart skipped a beat.

Even if that secret was something he would never share it didn’t apply to Aqua’s situation. She had gone through a traumatic experience that could possibly scar her for life, and anyone, no matter how strong they were, that wanted to overcome such an experience couldn’t do it alone.

“But this is different.” Ven argued. “Keeping negative memories and emotions of that magnitude bottled inside you will do you much more damage than good. Maybe if you talked to us the nightmares wouldn’t come as often.”

Though his words reached her they weren’t enough to persuade Aqua’s volition.

Ven waited patiently in the hopes that Aqua would take her time to consider his point of view, but her face showed no signs of that happening.

Ven sighed worried and inched closer to Aqua.

“Terra and I are worried.” Ven murmured sadly. “We can tell this is really bothering you, and we want to help.”

Ven bowed his head in defeat, but was surprised when Aqua’s hand moved forward to cup his cheek and raise his face.

“You are already helping me.” Aqua whispered with a genuine smile.

Ven froze in place when Aqua’s thumb gingerly caressed his cheek.

Ven’s skin felt warm and soft under her touch. She could feel him breathing, and he was right there in front of her looking back in both surprise and confusion. That Ven was real, and he wouldn’t disappear in a golden cloud of dust the moment her fingers touched him.

Back in the Realm of Darkness she had seen Ven and Terra many times, but no matter how fast she ran towards them they’d always vanish before she could even feel them. They weren’t real. They were never real, it was just her heart playing cruel tricks to her mind. In that place her best friends were nothing but a distant memory.

In that moment feeling the warmth of Ven’s body against her skin brought her immense relief.

A soft blush adorned Ven’s cheeks.

“You… you don’t have to be strong all the time.” Ven murmured shyly. “It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes.”

Aqua pulled her hand away to let it rest down on her lap.

“Back in that place I couldn’t afford to have a single moment of weakness.” Aqua said solemnly. “If I did the darkness would consume me, and I had no choice but to stay strong at all times.”

She raised her right hand in front of her eyes and assessed her empty palm with melancholy.

“Even now that I’m back in the Realm of Light I still feel uncomfortable not having my Keyblade with me at all times.”

As her eyes fell back on Ven a sad smile formed on her lips.

“I know it’s going to be a long while before I can really be at ease again. So until that happens, I can only hope you’re patient with me.”

A sense of relief filled him. Recovering was never easy, and it took time, but now that Aqua was willing to accept help Ven would accompany her through every single step, no matter how long that was going to take.

Placing his hand atop hers and intertwining their fingers together Ven smiled reassuringly in her direction.

“I’ll wait as much as you need.”

[cookiepiefrenzy]

The Walk of Penance

To be honest, it wasn't something unexpected. Actually, now that I think about it...I should have seen it coming. Instead, I blinded myself with  wishful thinking. It has become quite a bad habit of mine.

The monsters are right outside the castle. I know why they are here. They want to cast me down, to obtain the justice I robbed them off. I would be lying if I said they are wrong. They lost so much because of me, and I refused to even try to compensate for it. Yes, I deserve all that's coming my way.

And yet, I don't believe I am wrong, either. I know a sane person would find my beliefs stupid and childish. But, is it so bad to prefer mercy? Am I at fault for believing in good endings? I understand that this isn't a fairy tale. This is real life. But I still choose to hope. Hope in a world where humans and monsters live in peace. Hope in a world based on love, not hatred.

I look at the rebels from the window. ''Rebels'', huh? I never expected to call a fellow monster a ''rebel''. Looks like I'm becoming a little selfish. No, Toriel. If you want to make this world a utopia, you can't be so egotistic. You wronged them and you're paying the price, as you should.

Undyne is entering the castle. I ordered the guards to let her in. After all, they used to work together. It would  be cruel to force a fight between two old allies. But what about me? What should I do? Should I fight her, fight for the world I dream of? Or, is it that this utopia I hope to create can only be achieved by giving up on it and letting people decide for themselves?

She's already at the throne room. I only see darkness in her eyes. She is infuriated. I have to admit, this is the first time in my life that I see someone who hates me so much. I can sense her disgust towards me and, even though I expected it, I still am shocked. I'm not used to being hated. And it scares me.

Undyne gives me no time to think of how to react. She grabs me by the neck and throws me down. For a moment there, I thought she was going to strangle me. Heck, I believe she wanted to, but changed her mind on the last second. Is it that she wants to torture me before killing me? In that case, maybe I should end it myself.

Before I'm able to use my fire magic, Undyne grabs both my hands. She holds them so tightly they hurt. She then proceeds to drag me down, all the way to the castle's entrance. In a demonstration of strength, she throws me out of the caste, a few steps away from the crowds who shout slogans against me. Is it them who will finish me off? The people who I tried to save, and yet wronged so much in the process. It hurts. It hurts a lot.

Somehow, no one is attacking me. Undyne walks out of the castle, next to me.

''Stand up.'', she orders me. I quietly obey.

''Toriel Dreemurr,'', she exclaims, ''you are here today to answer for your crimes against monsterkind.''

''I never committed any crime.'', I respond firmly, trying to keep my cool.

''You let the human escape instead of killing him. That, alone, is treason against the laws of our deceased King, Asgore. But helping the human didn't just cost us one soul. It cost us the lives of dozens of monsters. It cost us the human souls we had already collected, setting us back to zero. And, most importantly, it cost us the life of our beloved King, Asgore, whose position you were quick to assume. Not only that but, while ruling as queen, you passed laws that assist humanity, betraying all our hopes and dreams!''

I try to reply, but my voice is getting covered by the shouts of the crowd. ''Traitor! Traitor!'', they all shout. Undyne silences them to let me speak. I'm still trying to stay calm, but I'm ready to break down.

''My friends...'', I begin, with my voice shaking, ''I did not betray you! I never expected that a child would do such horrible things to us...'

''It was a human child, of course it would!'', Undyne angrily interrupts me.

''No! Not all humans are evil! We all have to be compassionate! If we build a society around suspicion and anger, how are we ever going to find happiness? We will only start an endless cycle of revenge and fear! This isn't what we want, right?''

''And where did your actions take us? You destroyed years of efforts with your peaceful decisions! You destroyed our lives! Our future! You may have not created a 'society of fear', but you built a society of despair!''

''I tried for our best!''

My voice is beginning to break.

''And you failed!'', she yells at me. ''And because of you, families lost their loved ones! Mettaton, an idol for children and adults alike, a beam of hope for our salvation is dead! Alphys, our Royal scientist, is missing! Our King is dead! All because you couldn't kill a single child! And you want to be queen and rule our future after all these stupid decisions?''

I stay silent. I can't do this anymore. Because, deep down, I know...she's right. I only caused them pain.

''Do you have anything else to say in your defense?''

I look at the crowd. They loathe me. They despise me. I'm sure some of them want to see me dead. I'm not used to this. I don't know how to handle it.

''I'm sorry... For everyone's losses, for all the despair I brought upon you... I'm so, so sorry!''

I can barely hold my tears. In fact, I feel some of them have already escaped my eyes.

''In that case, it's time for your sentence. You will be dethroned, with no rights to the crown anymore. And, as the leader of this rebellion, it has been decided that I shall be crowned as empress, to lead the monsters out of the misery you put them in. As for you... I would be glad to kill you. It's what you deserve after all the things you've done. But, you are a monster. And I have taken an oath to never harm a monster. So, you should suffer a different punishment. From now on, you are exiled to the Ruins. You have one day to leave and never come back!''

The crowds cheer. I can hear a few monsters trying to push Undyne to kill me. I can't believe they would be so angry at me. To suddenly feel so hated, so detested... I wasn't ready for this.

Undyne takes the crown off my head and looks at me with those same, hateful eyes.

''Leave. Now.''

She doesn't need to speak twice. I quietly step aside and withdraw. As I walk away, I can hear her speech.

''Today is a special day in our history. This day will mark the end of our despair! For we, after all the losses we have endured, will rise again! I am your leader, but I don't want power over you. I am here to share my power WITH you! I am here to give you back your hopes and dreams! To punish humanity for all the pain they have caused us. Trust in me, and I promise you...I'll bring our future back!''

Everyone cheers. Her speech is captivating. She sounds so sure of herself, and so eager to help everyone stand on their feet again. I don't doubt her. She will become a great leader. They deserve her. But, where will she lead them to? That, I fear.

I look back for one last time before I leave New Home forever.

I'm walking through Hotland now, and it literally feels like hell. There is lava everywhere and the heat is unbearable. However, the place where true hell lies, is nowhere else but my soul. I feel HORRIBLE. Everyone hates me, and with a very good reason to. I feel guilty for letting Frisk live. But, worse thing is, I still don't regret it. I still believe it, within my heart, that everyone deserves mercy. Even Frisk.

I suddenly notice Vulkin sitting on the ground. He looks pretty upset, crying lava tears. I contemplate on it a little, but I decide to approach him.

''Hello, young child! Are you alright? What can I do for you?''

''You can't do anything for me...'', he sobs.

''Don't say that! Are you lost? I can help you find your mother if you-''

''My mother and my sister were killed by the human!''

I look down. It feels like the world really wants to punch my soul today.

''I miss them, I miss them so much... I'm alone with daddy now... What are we gonna do without them?''

''They are in a better place now...'', I try to comfort him.

''No, they are just dead! Dust, spread on the ground as if they were nothing! As if they didn't matter at all!'', he cries again.

I wish I could offer a solution. Sadly, there's nothing I can do to correct this. There is no cure for death.

''I was right next to her when she died...'', he continues, twisting the knife in my heart even more. ''My mother told me to run, but I didn't. And, then, she was suddenly killed! One moment she was alive, and the next one she was dust!''

I try to hug Vulkin, but he pulls back.

''I'm sorry, I'll burn you if you get close to me!''

''Don't worry... I'm a fire monster too.''

I hug him and let him cry in my arms for a moment. I, too, want to cry. But no, not yet. I have to be strong for this little guy... This little guy who's suffering because of me.

''GET AWAY FROM MY SON!'', a loud voice calls out.

Vulkin's father runs towards us and grabs him away from me.

''Do you know who this is, son?'', he asks angrily. ''SHE'S THE FORMER QUEEN! The one who let the human through!''

Vulkin looks at me. His eyes are filled with disappointment.

''You tricked me...!''

''I'm sorry! But think about it... Frisk was a kid, like you! I couldn't just kill him...'', I try to explain myself.

''Frisk was no ordinary kid!!'', his father interrupts me. ''He killed a mother in front of her child and then let the child live to remember it! To be forever scarred!''

''So you would prefer it if Frisk had killed your son too?'', I ask, infuriated.

''I would prefer it if you hadn't protected Frisk in order to fill the gap your  dead children left!''

I freeze in shock. Flashbacks of Asriel and Chara come to my mind, excruciating me.

''But no, because your children died, we have to lose people important to us too!'', he continues. ''Just so that ''queen'' Toriel has a child to play house with!''

I run away. I can't take this anymore.

''Yes, run back to the Ruins! It was best when you were there anyway!''

I run. I run, run and keep running. I'm at the Waterfall and I continue running, as far away as I can. My children...my poor children. Why do I have to get reminded of them in such a cruel way? And, why today, of all days?

I've reached a very special place at Waterfall. It's where Asriel's statue is. A reminder of the King's son, who was killed by the humans. Seeing his statue was the final straw. I fall on my knees and break into tears. My son, my Asriel... I miss him, I miss him so much! My poor child... All he wanted was to grant his sister's last wish... Why did he have to die like that? Why is the world such a cruel place?

And Chara... Chara wasn't my own, but it never mattered to me. Chara was, too, my child. My daughter, who just died because of my own carelessness... If only I had prevented her from consuming these buttercups! If only I had been more careful... I'm sorry, Chara... I'm so, so sorry!

Vulkin's dad said I wanted to adopt Frisk to fill the void you two left in my heart... He was wrong. Frisk could never replace you. No one could ever replace you! No one!

''NO ONE!!'' I yell, looking at the statue. My face is covered in tears.

I keep crying. I wish I could hug my children right now. It wouldn't matter if the whole world hated me, as long as my children were alive. I'd give up everything just to see them again, even for a split second.

''Look at her, crying over her dead child! Isn't it cute?''

I turn around, and see Woshua and Aaron looking at me.

''Yes, so cute! I bet she doesn't care that much about OUR children that were murdered because of her!''

''But our children didn't get a statue, did they?''

''No, they didn't.''

''Why should hers have one then?''

''Want me to destroy it?''

''Go ahead!''

Aaron comes close. No way. No way am I letting them do this.

''I'm the one you hate! Leave Asriel out of this!'', I yell at him.

''So what? Your child gets to be remembered, while ours have turned into dust and spread through the whole Underground?'', Woshua replies.

Aaron is getting closer.

''He was King Asgore's son too! You loved him, didn't you?'', I try to persuade them.

''Asgore was just sitting there, waiting for humans to fall into the Underground for him, while he could use the first human's soul to cross the barrier himself and gather the rest of the souls we needed. He was a coward.'', Aaron coldly replies.

''I had suggested that... But, even if he was scared, he was still a great King!''

I never expected I would be defending Asgore for the exact same reasons that I left him.

''Yeah, right!'', Woshua laughs at me. ''You, with all your love and mercy talk, suggested something like that? You have got to be kidding us!''

''Step aside!'', Aaron commands me.

''No. I won't let you destroy my son's statue.''

''Say, do you still believe everyone deserves mercy?'', Aaron asks.

''Yes. With all my heart.'', I reply, weirded out by the sudden question.

''Then you will forgive me for this.''

He pushes me away with all his strength. I fall a few steps away and look at him as he begins to punch the statue. He is one of the strongest monsters when it comes to physical strength. He will break it!

''No, stop!!!'', I scream.

''You won't attack me anyway, so who cares?''

I get up and try to stop him, to pull him away. He punches me down again, harder this time.

''You can't get the hint, can you?'', Woshua tells me. ''You and your pathetic family are not wanted here anymore!''

The statue's head is already broken. Aaron continues.

''Please, I beg of you! Stop, please, please!!! Just stop!!'', I keep screaming. I haven't stopped crying.

''You're not our queen anymore! You don't get to order us around!'', Woshua angrily shouts at me and slaps me.

I think I finally understand how the monsters feel about the humans. I really, really want to kill these two. With my fire magic, it's more than easy. I can stop them and save Asriel's legacy. Then again, if these two don't ruin the statue, someone else will after I leave. And, besides...I still don't believe in violence. Even if it hurts to see this, even if I could just end it right here, right now....this isn't the right way.

I walk away. I've seen enough. As I leave, I hear both of them cheering. ''Out with the Dreemurrs!'', ''It's time to end their reign forever!''. I sigh and wipe my tears, in a failed attempt to stop them.

I'm almost at the end of the Waterfall. I see an echo flower there. I remember, so many years before, when Asgore and I were still young. We had promised to be together forever. To save the Underground together. How naive we were... How innocent...

Maybe I was wrong about Asgore. Maybe he didn't deserve to be treated like this. After all, he was just too scared to go to the surface and face the humans. And really, who isn't? The humans are far stronger than us. It's normal to be scared.

I'm horrible. I left Asgore only a few weeks after both our kids died, when he needed me the most. He had been by my side through all that. And, if he was alive now, he would still defend me against everyone. Even though I treated him unfairly, even though I never forgave him... He would protect me. I know he would. He would never leave me behind, like I did to him. I'm sorry, Asgore. Only now do I realise how stupid and selfish I was. Only now I realise how much you mean to me. Now that I lost you, now that it's too late.

''Hey, you.'', someone shouts at me. I turn around and see a monster made of fire. It must be Grillby. I realise I've reached Snowdin.

''Look at this empty town. It used to be full of people. Full of joy. Now, no one goes out anymore. They are all in their homes, preparing for a war with the humans and mourning their dead. Do you know whose fault that is?''

''Mine...'' I sigh. I can't argue anymore. I'm tired and this is, indeed, my fault. No use denying it.

''Then you realise you should pay for it.''

''I'll go to the ruins forever. No one will have to see me again.''

''That's far from enough. So many people lost their lives. You should lose yours too.''

''Undyne, your new empress, doesn't agree with that. She won't allow the killing of monsters.''

''Undyne will never know.''

Grillby suddenly launches a fire attack at me. Being a fire monster myself, I don't lose too much HP, but it still hurts. I won't fight back. I didn't fight for Asriel back in the Waterfall, so I have no right to fight here. I start running away, with Grillby following me and launching fireballs at me.

I run towards Snowdin Forest. He may lose me there. And so he does, after a few minutes. I sit down for a bit, hidden behind a tree. I need to catch my breath. I'm not young enough to keep running around without getting tired.

This day has been hell. All the sad memories keep coming to my mind, accompanied by the awful events that keep occurring around me. Or, should I say, because of me? The Underground used to be a peaceful place. A place filled with hopes and dreams. Now, thanks to me, it's all ruined. Everyone is sad and taken over by rage. Monsters have died or lost their loved ones. All because I couldn't kill a single human. It's all my fault.

I hear Grillby again. He's close. I try getting up, but I stop. To be killed and forgotten forever; I actually deserve this fate. Besides, if I die right now, the pain will end. Yes. It's over. I give up.

Suddenly, someone touches my shoulder from behind. At first, I think it's Grillby, but the hand doesn't burn. I turn around.

''Sans?''

''Hey there.''

He is wearing a red scarf around his neck. He looks terrible. His eyes are sad and it feels like he's as broken as me.

''Are you here to kill me?'', I ask, looking down.

''No.'', he answers bluntly, offering me his hand. ''But Grillby will soon find you if you stay here. I've been watching you and, seeing how you don't fight back, he'll be able to kill you easily.''

''It doesn't matter anymore. It'll be better, to be honest. It's a fair punishment for all I've done.''

''You just want to escape reality, don't you?''

''Yeah, I guess that's part of it as well.''

''I won't let you quit like that.''

''And what should I live for, then? With what purpose? Making the world a great place? Bringing peace between humans and monsters? I tried, I really did. And look where it got me. I just failed.''

''You need a reason to live? How about your son? Your two children?''

I look down. Why does everyone have to remind me of their tragic deaths today?

''What about my children?''

''You saw how people think of your son, Asriel. I bet they think even worse of Chara, who was a human. If you die here, who will remember them as fondly as you do? Who will love them?''

I think for a minute. Sans is right. I'm the last person who really knew those children. If I disappear, everyone will hate them. They'll soon start creating false stories and rumors about them, and no one will know the truth.

''You're right...'', I reply to Sans.

''Come on now, Grillby is close. Grab my hand.''

I take his hand. I expect him to help me up, but, instead, I get a sudden feeling of dizziness and close my eyes in pain. When I open them again, Sans and I are in the Ruins.

''W-What happened? How?''

''Sorry for not warning you before using my shortcut, but Grillby was way too close.''

''Shortcut?'', I ask, confused.

''Don't sweat it.'', he replies to me, and finally helps me up.

''So, is this where you'll be living from now on?'', he asks me.

''Yes. I've been living here for years...it won't be a problem.''

''Except, the monsters that live here have left.''

''Yes. Except that.''

''You'll be lonely, won't you?''

''Yes...'', I sigh. I guess Sans wants to make this day even worse for me.

''Would you...want a roommate then?'', he asks out of the blue.

''What? You mean yourself?''

''Yes, if it's alright with you.''

''Why would you wanna do that?''

''You're a good friend of mine. In fact...you're the only one I have right now.''

''What about your brother?''

Sans's face suddenly gets sadder. I know he loves his brother. Why would he leave him behind? Unless...

''Papyrus...Papyrus has actually joined Undyne's Royal Guard. He moved to New Home a few days ago, in order to be close to her.''

''And why didn't you go with him?''

''Undyne doesn't like me. Before the rebellion, I tried to persuade her to give you some time, to let you rule and see the results. She didn't take it that well. And Papyrus is in such an important position, his dream has finally become true...I don't wanna ruin it by causing problems between him and Undyne, you know?''

Sans smiled. It was a weird, crooked smile. I'm sure he misses his brother. He wants to be with him, but he knows he can't. I can relate to that pain.

''Alright, we can be roommates then!'' I try to cheer him up with a crooked smile of my own.

''Thanks.''

We walk through the ruins. Each of us seems to be lost in their own thoughts. Sans is the only person who has treated me well today, and he's probably the last.

''Say, Sans... Did you meet Frisk?''

''Yes.''

''Did you see him...kill monsters?''

''Yes. A lot of them.''

''Why didn't you stop him?''

''I had a promise to keep.''

I look down.

''So, if I hadn't made you promise...Frisk wouldn't have killed that many.''

''Is that what you wanted, though? Because this feels like you're admitting that Frisk should have died...just not by your own hands.''

Only now do I realise that part of me feels exactly like that. It's the same attitude I so harshly judged Asgore for. So ironic...

''What do you think, Sans?'', I avoid his question for now. ''Should Frisk have died?''

''Without a doubt.''

''I'm sorry for making you promise, then.''

''Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have been able to kill Frisk anyway. No one would.''

''Why is that?''

''It's...complicated.''

''Oh.'', I sigh. ''Tell me, Sans...was Frisk as evil and sadistic as everyone describes? Was I such a bad judge of character?''

''No, not really. Frisk just only cared about himself. He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, and so he did. If someone was to get in his way, he would try to persuade them not to. However, he wasn't that patient, especially towards the end. Once he failed to persuade someone, he'd just kill them for an easy ticket out of the Underground.''

''I see... So, he was just selfish, huh?''

''Selfishness can become a great evil.''

''Then...am I evil too, for letting him live?''

''No. You followed what you believed in. You never wanted violence, hatred or revenge. And you also managed to keep your beliefs until now that they got turned against you. It's quite admirable. Stupid, but admirable.''

''Thanks... I guess.''

''Don't worry about it. We might not agree, but I won't judge you for it. After all, you only did what you thought was best for everyone. You don't deserve to be treated so awfully.''

''That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a while... Thank you, really, thank you.''

''And thank you for letting me stay with you. I'd be way too lonely in Snowdin as it is right now.''

''So, it's two lonely people keeping company to each other, isn't it?''

''Yes. Two lonely losers.''

It's finally night. Sans has already fallen asleep on the couch. After this day, I couldn't sleep at all. I went on a stroll in the Ruins, and ended up here, in the flowerbed where Frisk fell. Where I met him for the first time.

I sit on the flowers and watch the sky. It's full of stars. Real stars, not like the fake ones the monsters have at the Waterfall. I remember the past and wonder about the future. Will Undyne manage to bring happiness back to monsterkind? Or will she bring them to war against humanity, ultimately destroying them? Because, even if she does gather the seven souls and they do defeat the humans...will they ever be the same again? Will it be worth it?

I can't tell for sure what's the best anymore. I just pray that, one day, all the monsters will see the real stars again.