#i also intend to be Twelve eventually

[doctahpants]

My fabric samples for S8-9 Missy shirt, S10 Missy scarf and Magician's Apprentice Clara spotty dress arrived. Photos below cut.

(Mostly, I want to document my progress for my own records. I'll probably do a follow up on patterns once they all arrive, along with my next batch of samples which includes boiled wool for Missy's skirt & jacket and grey knit for Clara's jumper)

Look how pretty the scarf fabric is! Not actually planning to do S10 Missy right now, but when I saw it, I knew I needed it!

It's a really nice cotton silk blend too. So soft, so drapey (also so expensive)

The shirt fabric is nice.

It's available in a few fabrics, so need to choose, but I'm definitely getting some of this. I need to practice my stripe matching though.

I got a few different ones for Clara, but this is the best of the bunch.

I think it could do with being a shade or two darker, but it's a rare spotty fabric that doesn't have a regular grid of dots. If I don't see wanting better it is definitely pretty good.

Reference photos below:

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 1

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav gets kidnapped and is surprisingly calm about her new predicament. She spends her first night in the devil’s bed. Raphael is a pain in the ass to share a bed with.

(AN: A pretty self-indulgent fic that I am working on. It is a lot more light-hearted than what I have previously written. The plot also gives me an opportunity to explore a more private and less performative Raphael. There will be more chapters.)

Warning: NSFW

It was a couple of weeks after the defeat of the elderbrain. Tav had been out drinking with a few of her companions. She had gotten very drunk and at some point during the evening she had gotten lost from the rest.

A handsome young tiefling man had approached her and bought her drinks. He had red skin, yellow glowing eyes, and a disarming smile.

They talked for a couple of hours. He claimed to be a wizard like her. She should have known something was up when he seemed to be very unknowledgeable about even simple spells, but what could she say? The man was charming, and the alcohol made it hard for her to care about him potentially lying just to get her into bed.

When they got to his place, she was half-way out of her clothes when something hit her head.

Everything went black.  

When she woke up, she heard the faint sound of something...jingling? She felt a sharp poke to her ribs. She grumbled quietly, still not entirely awake. She received another poke to her ribs. She whined and mumbled in response. Then there was a full force kick that squeezed the air out of her and made her turn to her side.

She held onto the boot that had kicked her and opened her eyes. Black boots that went into a tip at the toes. She knew where she had seen those silly jingly boots before. She looked up. Familiar orange eyes looked down on her. He was in his cambion form.

“Oh shit,” she mumbled.

“Indeed,” Raphael said in a dangerously low tone.

Tav had signed his contract back then and used the Orphic Hammer to free Orpheus. She did intend to give the Crown of Karsus to Raphael, but her companions made her change her mind. The Crown of Karsus ended up in Mystra’s hands instead, in order to cure Gale of his orb.

“Thank you for bringing her here, Cassius,” Raphael said to someone else while his eyes were still locked on her. ��Now leave us.”

Tav looked behind Raphael to see the young tiefling man that she had gone home with. So, he was a warlock… It suddenly made all the sense in the world why he did not know his ass from his elbow when it came to wizardry. The warlock smiled at her as he left them. Tav’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Ugh…” she groaned and looked up at Raphael. “He’s one of yours? You couldn’t have sent Korrilla or something?”

“You know Korrilla’s face, little mouse,” Raphael sighed. “You may not be the brightest person I have ever crossed, but I don’t expect you to be so dull that you would walk into my trap willingly…Then again, nothing would surprise me with you.”

Trap? Why couldn’t he just whisk her away like he did that first time they met if he wanted her there? Tav’s brow furrowed as she tried to understand. She lifted her head to look down her body. She wasn’t wearing a shirt. That was going to have to be a concern for a later time, because she noticed that she was wearing something around her wrists. They were tight metal cuffs with infernal letters inscribed in them.

Her brain was not her friend between the high levels of alcohol still in her blood and the fact that she had been hit on her head with a blunt object. She held the cuffs up to her face and studied them with all the concentration she could muster. She had seen something like these cuffs before…

“Help me out here…” she said and looked up at Raphael.

“They are constructs like those that held Prince Orpheus,” Raphael explained. “I’m aware that your mental capabilities leave something to be desired at the moment, so I will gladly explain it to you in simple terms: You won’t leave this house with those on, and you won’t get them off without the Orphic Hammer.”

“Is that what all this is about?” she sighed. “You could have just asked for it back. The damned thing has just been collecting dust at my house anyway.”

“No, Tav,” Raphael said in a darker tone. “This is about punishment. We had a deal, and you broke it. You snooped through my house, took things that did not belong to you, killed my incubus…I allowed it because I thought you still had the sense to go through with what we agreed upon.”

She winced. It had been a stupid decision to go to his house and one that did not even pay off. When Gale had been offered Mystra’s help, they went to the House of Hope to gauge their options. Everything seemed so tightly secured and locked down that they decided not to risk it in the end.

“Listen, I’m sorry about Haarlep…” she said.

“Don’t be,” Raphael replied smoothly. “I have half a mind to make you his replacement until your dear little friends bring me my hammer back…Then, I will make you watch as your friends die a cruel and slow death. After, I will take what is now rightfully mine: your soul.”

Well…fuck.

This wasn’t good. Her friends would without a doubt come to her rescue if Raphael told them that she was held captive in his home. She needed to keep them away and bide her time until she could figure out a solution.

“Say that they don’t come,” She said. “What then?”

“They will,” Raphael said. “You will be treated well until then since I need you alive and in one piece to lure them here. You will be granted free roam of the house, three meals a day, and a soft bed to sleep in. Consider yourself prized livestock that gets pampered in its final days before being sent to slaughter. Not that you deserve it…”

She took a deep breath. She had to somehow contact her friends and ask them to stay away. Then, she would have to find a way out of those damned cuffs so she could return home. How in the Hells she would manage to do that without the Orphic Hammer, she did not know, but it was not an option to gamble with her friends’ lives in order to bring it to her.

Tav had always found a way to be calm and relaxed, even in the worst of situations. She already had half a plan in her mind. All she needed was a moment of privacy to use a sending spell to alert her friends.

Raphael extended a hand to her, to help her up and off the floor. She took it and was pulled to her feet. She winced and held a hand to her head once the blood rushed to her injury from the blunt object hitting her.

“Come,” Raphael said and led her through the house.

They stepped through the barrier to the boudoir.

“I trust that you have already familiarized yourself with this room during your burglary, so I believe we can skip the tour,” Raphael said with no short amount of bitterness and then gestured to a wardrobe. “You will find clothes and essentials in there.”

Raphael turned around to face her. He looked her up and down. His gaze lingered at her bra and cleavage for just a second too long. Tav crossed her arms to cover herself.

“Bathe, rest, make yourself at home,” Raphael said with a smug smile.

Tav looked around the room and then at Raphael.

“Where will I sleep?” she asked.

Raphael’s smile widened and he gestured to his bed. Tav’s brow furrowed as her eyes went from him to the bed.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“Deadly,” Raphael said calmly. “You killed my bed warmer. I believe it’s only fair that you take their place…Of course, I would never force you to do anything. If this little arrangement doesn’t suit you, I can have a cell in the dungeons cleared out for you. Its last visitor has been decomposing in there for a while now…”

“Alright, alright,” Tav said in defeat. “Fine. I get it…I won’t complain.”

“I thought not,” Raphael said smoothly. “I have business to attend to before retiring. Until then, Korrilla will be watching you.”

Tav sighed. She had hoped for a moment of alone time, but Raphael was not stupid. He was probably fully counting on her trying something, so he made sure to keep a close eye on her.

Korrilla entered the boudoir shortly after.

“Evening, boss,” Korrilla said with a smile, greeting Raphael before turning to Tav. “Tav.”

Tav smiled and waved casually at her. She had never minded Korrilla. After all, Tav did not know the circumstances of her pact, and she did not feel like judging her solely because her boss was a pain in the ass.

“Remember,” Raphael said addressing Korrilla. “Do not let her out of your sight.”

Korrilla nodded and Raphael gave Tav one last glance before leaving the boudoir.

Tav and Korrilla stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other. Tav was trying to figure out how she could divert Korrilla’s attention away from her.

“I think I’m going to take a bath,” Tav said casually and moved towards the restoration pool.

“Good idea,” Korrilla said, already following her. “I have to say, you look a mess. Cassius really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

“Yes. Surely, he could have used a spell to knock me out instead. Not too bright, is he?” Tav said and started slowly taking off her clothes, waiting for Korrilla to give her a moment of privacy. “He’s new, I presume?”

Korrilla seated herself on the other side of the pool, so she had a clear view of Tav.

“Correct,” Korrilla answered.

“'Correct' to which statement?” Tav asked with chuckle. “That he is not too bright, or that he is new?”

“He is new,” Korrilla said with a smile that signaled to Tav that she did not disagree with the other statement either.

Tav pulled off her pants, leaving her in her underwear. Korrilla was still watching her.

“Are you seriously going to keep staring at me while I bathe?” Tav asked.

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Korrilla said and gestured for her to continue taking off her clothes. “I promise you that no matter what, I have seen far worse within this room.”

Tav sighed quietly. She reluctantly took off the rest of her clothes and slipped into the warm water of the pool. She felt relief as the water instantly healed her head-injury and took the edge off her hangover. Tav leaned her head back on the pool’s edge and closed her eyes for a moment.

After a long bath, Tav dried herself off and wrapped herself in a towel. She walked to the wardrobe with Korrilla at her heels. She opened it and sifted through the clothes.

There was a bit of everything: dresses, shirts, pants…Tav looked at some of the underwear. She pulled out a strappy leather bra with matching panties and showed them to Korrilla.

“Is he serious?” Tav asked with a deadpan expression.

“Leftovers from Haarlep, if I should guess,” Korrilla said.

Made sense. Tav looked after any type of nightclothes. Most of it was very revealing, but she managed to find a long silk night-gown. It was still suggestive, but it was her best option out of the bunch. The neckline was quite revealing, but at least it covered more of her body than the other negligees she found.

“This will have to do,” Tav sighed and put it on.

Tav crawled into bed after. It might have been the most comfortable bed she had ever laid in. The mattress was neither too soft nor too firm, and the sheets were silk. She felt sleepy moments after she had laid down. Korrilla was watching her from a chair.

“You’re not sleepy?” Tav asked and looked at her. Was there even a small chance that Korrilla would fall asleep so that Tav had the chance to send message to her friends, she would fight her sleepiness and stay awake.

“I’m not going to cuddle with you, if that is what you are asking,” Korrilla answered, looking wide awake. “I don’t sleep on the job.”

“Oh, you flirt. Not what I meant. I was just asking,” Tav mumbled with a sigh. Her sleepiness won against her determination. She gave up on her hope to reach her friends that night and decided to try the day after as she drifted to sleep.

She stirred from her sleep when she heard Korrilla leave, and Raphael enter. She yawned quietly. She made sure her night-gown was adjusted so it covered as much as possible before closing her eyes again. She felt a dip in the mattress as Raphael laid down behind her.

She gave a surprised yelp as Raphael grabbed around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Her back was up against his chest, his arm held around her tightly, and he settled his chin on the top of her head. He placed his leg over hers, effectively making sure that she could not move during the night.

This was without a doubt the closest she had ever been to Raphael. His skin was unnaturally warm, like that of a person with a high fever. She knew that protesting would not get her anywhere, because there most likely was a reason as to why he held her like that: to make sure that she would not try anything during the night.

She tried making herself comfortable despite the restrictions to her movements. Raphael’s grip tightened slightly in response.

“Lie still,” he grumbled.

Tav felt the deep rumble of his voice through his chest, and she would have been lying if she said that it did not do things to her.

“You’re a really uncomfortable big spoon, do you know that?” she complained and squirmed again. “I’m just trying to make myself comfortable.”

She felt something through the fabric of her nightgown as she adjusted her position in his arms. It made her freeze for a moment.

“Are you naked?” she asked in disbelief.

“Mm,” he affirmed tiredly. “Sleep, mouse.”

“I can’t persuade you to put on some clothes?”

“You are very demanding for a woman in your position,” Raphael said. “No. I will sleep in my own bed as I please.”

She sighed and adjusted herself one last time before closing her eyes.

Sleeping in the arms of a devil was pure hell for a multitude of reasons. Tav had never sweated so much in her life.

With difficulty, Tav rolled over to her other side since her back was literally soaked with sweat. Raphael’s grip was so tight around her that she was almost forced to lean her head against his chest as she faced him. She refused to do so and leaned her head back and away from him. The awkward position made her snore softly in her sleep. She was rudely woken during the night by his tail hitting her thigh, as a hint for her to stop snoring.

She was rudely woken yet again, when he suddenly snaked his arm under her to grab her and move her with him like a ragdoll as he rolled over to his other side.

In the early morning, Tav opened her eyes as she felt something press up against her behind. She could hear on his breathing that he was still at least somewhat asleep.

He was rock-hard and his, what felt like, impressive size was resting against her ass.

He rolled his hips against her and groaned softly.

The arm that had been holding her tightly, moved down to her hip to push her back against him. Another soft groan.

Tav’s eyes widened, and she was suddenly very awake.

She was careful not to move, but she did feel a tinge of growing arousal despite herself.

He pushed her back against him once again and groaned slightly louder. It was followed by a sharp inhale and a stir, as he woke up entirely.

A few moments later he got up and off the bed.

Tav squeezed her eyes shut. They had both knew what just happened. Should she say something? Should she pretend that she was asleep the entire time? Pretend she was dead? The last option was honestly tempting but she decided to try her luck with option two.

She listened to his movements. After a short while, it got quiet. She waited a few moments to be sure that he had left, before opening her eyes.

This could be her opportunity to reach her friends.

She sat up quickly and looked around the boudoir. Her eyes fell on the young tiefling warlock who must have entered without her hearing a thing. He was sitting in the chair that Korrilla had sat in the day before.

“Morning,” Cassius said with a smile.

Tav groaned in frustration and slid back into bed.

[myths-tournaments]

Awful Characters Semi-finals (1/2)

Propaganda under the cut!

IANTHE TRIDENTARIUS

Her number one hobby is ruining every person's that she knows life. Her second hobby is being soooo slutty about it despite looking like a literal wet rat. Her third hobby is having an extremely unhealthy relationship with her twin. Her other hobbies include cannibalism, wearing a maid outfit, being extremely convinced she is the main character, the badboy sexy love interest and the villain. 'Why', you may ask. Well, the answer is, for shits and giggles #justgirlythings i, aswell as literally everybody else in the fandom have gone through the pipeline from hating her to desperately wanting to fuck her. expect for i still fucking hope she dies and doesn't come back for good. (that would literally solve all of everybody's problems) as god intended (EXPECT FOR. one of her hobbies literally is gaslighting god) She is fucking horrible i will love her until i die and even after that

parks and recs jean ralphio voice she's the woooorst!! The moment she learns she has to kill someone to become a Lyctor (aka a more special necromancer), she doesn't hesitate to kill and cannibalize the guy who has been her cavalier since childhood… cavalier who she also totally bullied as kids, she was allowed to choose one guest for her and her twin sister's birthday party each year, and she would always pick whoever she thought her cavalier didn't want to see there! While other characters are shown to regret the process of becoming a Lyctor (which involves someone close to them dying)/were forced into it because of circumstances, Ianthe has absolutely no regrets, she believes she did what she had to do

The author once said of Ianthe: "I don't think she's been nice to anyone, if she has I'll go back and change it." She killed and ate the soul of someone she has known all her life so that she could become a necromantic saint and tormented him plenty before that. General negging, ganging up against him, always inviting people he didn't like to their birthday parties. She doesn't regret killing him. I think she is repulsed by the idea that his digested soul is affecting hers. She helped her crush lobotomise herself so she would be in Ianthe's debt, and later lied and said she didn't see the corpse of a woman her crush killed under her bed (why did she do that? I do not know). She has a bone arm because her original arm was cut off, she hated the replacement so her crush cut THAT off and grew her a new one out of just bones. She had it gilded and only after that did she decide to help her crush deal with the person who had been repeatedly trying to kill her. She wants so badly to be the main character but people keep interrupting her villain monologues.

she has her own content warning tag

She's such a bitch to everyone all the time, she causes nothing but problems, she tries to do a villain speech but fumbles it because her tummy hurt, she is the awfulgirl of all time

AZULA

Azula explicitly considers herself a monster. She says needlessly cruel things to her brother and friends. She kills the show's twelve-year-old protagonist and masterminds the idea of burning down the entire Earth Kingdom to force them to submit to Fire Nation rule. I have absolutely seen people get called abuse apologists for thinking she's a cool character. But she's also a (canonically) mentally ill fourteen-year-old who was raised by her father to see her ability to be weaponized as her only value. Her mother, arguably the only adult in her life who could have had a positive impact, had a strained relationship with her because she was more difficult than her brother, and then disappeared when she was nine. Her uncle, who was her brother's main healthy role model, took absolutely no interest in her. She watched her father belittle her brother for years and eventually throw him away when he failed to meet his expectations, so that was a threat she was always facing. She really had no chance. And she also has moments that suggest she wants some sort of meaningful connection with another person. She lets her brother take credit for killing the Avatar so he can come back from exile, even though it means she'll be bumped back in the order of succession and offers him advice that seems genuine. Her spiral into a mental breakdown starts when her friends betray her. She's just a much more interesting and multifaceted than a lot of the fandom gives her credit for.

[loukaiitis]

Kip Kinkel: Thurston High School

Summary of the 1998 Thurston High School Shooting committed by Kip Kinkel. Note: this is for informational and educational purposes only. Post is below the cut. 

Background: 

Kipland Philip Kinkel was born August 30th, 1982 to Bill and Faith Kinkel. He had one older sister, Kristin, who was about six years older than him. The family lived in Springfield, Oregon; Bill previously taught Spanish at Thurston High School and Lane Community College, and Faith was a Spanish teacher at Springfield High. Kip was described as a relatively normal teenager with some odd hobbies and interests. He was on the football team and enjoyed the music of Marilyn Manson and Nirvana. He was also known for being “obsessed” with bombs and guns; this fixation would only grow over time.

The Kinkel family did not seem to have any major conflicts. Kristin was a successful competitive cheerleader in college, and Bill and Faith were both popular teachers. However, Kip had some academic struggles. It was recommended that he repeat the first grade, and he was later diagnosed with dyslexia. Despite having difficulty in some academic areas, Kip thrived in science and math; in fact, he was placed in a “Gifted” program.

Mental Health / Warning Signs

Kip’s behavior began to change as he became a teenager. He was twelve years old when he began hearing voices in his head. The first time it happened, he was walking home from school; according to Kip, a male voice told him, “You need to kill everyone, everyone in the world.” When he could not find the source of the voice, he panicked. He ran to his house, grabbed the rifle he received for his birthday, and hid in his bedroom until he did not hear the voice. Soon, one voice developed into two, and then three. These voices were all male voices and would talk to each other: either to fight or to work together to manipulate Kip. These voices terrified him, and he tried to make sense of them. However, his conclusions were all based in paranoia.

“I believed that the Disney corporation was working in conjunction with the U.S. government, and they had planted a chip in my head and so the voices were coming from this chip,” - Kip Kinkel (2021)

This paranoia developed rapidly, but he went to great lengths to hide it from others. He began believing that foreign countries would invade and kill him. These fears led him to have an increased interest in weapons.

 In seventh grade, he expressed an interest in building bombs and tried to obtain books such as the Anarchist’s Cookbook. He obtained a shotgun from a friend during this time as well. Faith Kinkel discovered his plans to obtain weapon-related books and grew concerned. Despite knowing about Kip’s violent interests, she did not intervene. It wasn’t until Kip started getting into legal trouble that some action was taken. In eighth grade, Kinkel and his friends were caught shoplifting CDs at the local Target. Sometime after this incident, Kip and a friend were arrested in Bend, Oregon for hitting a car with a rock from a highway overpass. These incidents led to Kip being brought to a psychologist. Kip intended to keep the voices and delusions he was having a secret. Dr. Jeffrey Hick would see Kip for nine therapy sessions and noted that he showed “no evidence of delusional thinking or other thought disorder symptoms.” It was apparent that he had a strained relationship with his parents, especially after his sister (who acted as a mediator for the family) had moved out. Kip described eating and daily functioning as a chore. He was eventually diagnosed with depression and prescribed Prozac.

“I remember freaking out. I had this plan, and this is a mess, but I had this plan to get into the military because if I got in the military, then I could get into the CIA, and if I got in the CIA, then I could get the right connects to find whoever in the government that put this chip in my brain. And being diagnosed as depressed..  this was something the voices pushed.. meant that I would not be allowed into the military. And I would not be allowed to own guns.” - Kip Kinkel (2021)

During the time of these counseling sessions (January 20th - July 30th 1997), Kip was suspended twice in late April. Despite this, he was seemingly progressing well in counseling; it seemed that Kip’s depression and anger were under control. Because of this, his father allowed him to purchase a 9mm Glock with his own money (under the agreement he would not be able to use it without his father’s supervision). In an attempt to bond, Kip and his father would go target shooting. Soon after, Kip purchased more guns: a .22 pistol from a friend (which he kept hidden) and a .22 semiautomatic rifle that his father allowed him to purchase. Kip’s obsession with explosives grew just as his obsession with guns did. In class, he gave a descriptive speech about the process of building pipe bombs with detailed illustrations.

Expulsion:

On May 20th, 1998, Kip was going to purchase another gun, a .32 caliber semi-automatic pistol, from a friend; they arranged the day before for Kip to purchase it at school. Kip paid $110 for the gun and kept it in his locker. However, this gun was stolen from the friend’s father. The father contacted the school, concerned that one of his guns was taken by one of his son’s friends. A list of possible suspects was given to Detective Warthen, but Kip’s name was not listed. After speaking to other students, Warthen questioned Kip about the gun. He confessed and was arrested, along with the friend he purchased the gun from. According to Detective Warthen, Kip was extremely worried about what his parents would think of him being charged with a felony. Bill Kinkel drove Kip home from the police station. They stopped at Burger King; Bill left Kip inside the building while he ate in the car. Kip felt as though his fears had become a reality.

“It was no longer, ‘I need to get this gun to protect myself from these very specific threats.’ Everything was a threat, everything was evil, everything was ugly, I got to the point where there was a mantra that the voices were saying, but also that I was experiencing, which was that I had to commit the crimes that I committed. The sense that I had no other choice was overwhelming. It became my reality.” - Kip Kinkel (2021)

Shooting: 

According to Kip, the voices in his head continued to get louder and more unbearable. The voices he was hearing were telling him to kill his father. Around 3pm on the same day as his expulsion, Kip grabbed his .22 rifle and shot his father in the back of the head while he was drinking coffee in the kitchen. Kip dragged the body of his father to the bathroom and covered him with a sheet. Between 3pm and 6:30pm, Kip’s home phone received numerous calls: a call from an English teacher at Thurston High School looking to speak to Bill, a call from a friend of Kip asking about Bill, and a call from one of Bill’s Spanish students asking about his absence. Kip gave vague, short answers to these calls before hanging up. The final call was between Kip and two of his friends. During this call, Kip explains that he did not know that the gun was stolen, and that he had no plans to use it. According to the friends on this call, he was impatiently waiting for his mother to come home and stated that “It's over...Everything's over... it's done... Nothing matters now."

Around 6:30pm, Faith Kinkel was in the garage, getting out of her car. Kip entered the garage, told her that he loved her before shooting her twice in the back of the head, three times in the face, and once in the chest. Kip covered her body with a sheet. That night, the voices convinced him that more people needed to die.

“I know it’s really hard for people to accept and understand, but there was something very clear inside me... like suicide wasn’t an option for me until I had done this thing that they were telling me to do. And they had promised me that once I did this thing I could kill myself.” - Kip Kinkel (2021)

The following morning, May 21st, 1998, Kip dressed himself in a black trench coat and packed his .22 caliber semiautomatic rifle, the 9mm Glock, and .22 caliber semiautomatic pistol into his backpack, along with ammunition. He taped a bullet to his chest (an extra bullet to kill himself, in case he ran out of ammunition) and a hunting knife to his leg. He drove himself to Thurston High School in his mother’s Ford Explorer.

Kip parked a block away from the school and walked through the back parking lot to enter the school. In a hallway near the school’s cafeteria, Kip shot two boys, Ben Walker and Ryan Attebury with the rifle; Walker being shot in the face and Attebury on the side of his face. He continued down the hallway to the cafeteria, where he shot the remainder of the 50-round clip. Determined to keep shooting, Kip tried to use his Glock, but he was tackled by five students after one shot. Two students were killed: Ben Walker and Mikael Nickolauson. Ryan Attebury, along with 24 others, survived their injuries. As Kip was arrested, he stated he just wanted to die or be killed. 

At the police station, Kip spoke to Detective Al Warthen. He was questioned about the moments leading up to the shooting, and Kip confessed to the murder of his parents. (Most of this recorded confession can be found online). Warthen left the room momentarily, and Kip managed to grab the knife he had taped to his leg. When Warthen returned, Kip yelled at Warthen to kill him before approaching him with the knife. Warthen escaped the room and locked Kip inside; He and another officer sprayed pepper spray into the room in an attempt to disarm Kip. 

As detectives entered the Kinkel’s house, “Liebestod”, a song featured on the CD soundtrack of Romeo + Juliet, could be heard on repeat at a blasting volume. Upon entering the house, detectives found explosives in crawl spaces, the bodies of Bill and Faith, and a note confessing the murder of the Kinkel parents.

“I have just killed my parents! I don't know what is happening. I love my mom and dad so much. I just got two felonies on my record. My parents can't take that! It would destroy them. The embarrassment would be too much for them. They couldn't live with themselves. I'm so sorry. I am a horrible son. I wish I had been aborted. I destroy everything I touch. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I didn't deserve them. They were wonderful people. It's not their fault or the fault of any person, organization, or television show. My head just doesn't work right. God damn these VOICES inside my head. I want to die. I want to be gone. But I have to kill people. I don't know why. I am so sorry! Why did God do this to me. I have never been happy. I wish I was happy. I wish I made my mother proud. I am nothing! I tried so hard to find happiness. But you know me I hate everything. I have no other choice. What have I become? I am so sorry“ - Kip Kinkel’s written confession

Trial:

On June 16th, 1998, Kip Kinkel was indicted with 58 felony charges, including four counts of aggravated murder that he was originally charged with. Kip spent approximately 18 months in solitary confinement. He was kept in a juvenile detention center until being transferred to an adult county jail after his 16th birthday. Kip was evaluated by different doctors that came to the shared conclusion that he showed signs of paranoid schizophrenia. Due to his age, he was not given a formal diagnosis and was only given medication for a brief period of time. During his confinement, the voices only gained more control over Kip. 

Just days before the trial, Kip decided to plead guilty instead of going forward with an insanity defense. He felt that a mental institution would be just as bad as prison, and he wanted to avoid a stressful trial in hopes that the voices would not bother him more than they already were. 

During the sentencing, survivors, family members of the victims, and doctors testified. Many called for the harshest sentence possible. When Kristin Kinkel tried to console her brother and block out the anger surrounding him, he allegedly said, “No, I owe it to them to listen.” Kip’s defense team attempted to get a lighter sentence due to his age and mental instability. However, the notoriety of the case led to Kip receiving the harshest sentence for a juvenile. On November 2nd, 1999, Kip Kinkel was sentenced to 111-years in prison without the possibility of parole. He apologized to the survivors and families of the victims.

Appeals / Recent News:

Kip and his legal team have made multiple attempts to appeal his sentence, with no success. However, Kip has made significant progress in his life in prison. He earned his degree in global studies in 2007 and has worked as a clerk in the prison library, a yoga instructor and an electrician. Kip’s mental health has improved with the help of proper medication and therapy. He continues to advocate for criminal justice reform today. In the summer of 2021, Kip Kinkel gave his first and only interview for an article by HuffPost.

“It’s hard for me to be able to say that because, so clearly, I had so many other choices. But in that time, that’s the horror of becoming fixated in a psychotic way... I felt like I didn’t want to do what I was going to do, I had to do it. That’s what was going on in my head.” - Kip Kinkel, speaking about his crimes

[cirrusea]

Hello Trollhunters fandom, I'm here to tell you why I (an autistic person) headcanon Jim as autistic even tho no one asked <3 I think the Jimhunters episode is the best example so I want to delve into it a little; also this is the first time I've really made an analysis post so bear with me! Under the cut bc it's gonna be long-ish.

First of course we have Jim being uncomfortable with the sudden physical change, eventually running off to think and be alone

Then he tries to regain some sense of normalcy and comfort by cooking (which is possibly one of his special interests)

...until he realizes human food tastes terrible now. He also probably realizes that now he can't partake in this comfort activity anymore, or at least not in the same way, and he starts to spiral

He needs to be alone again and goes to his room (which could also be motivated by embarrassment from his outburst/potential breakdown, in my experience I HATE being emotional in front of others, it makes it even more overwhelming). There he tries to take off the amulet and his armor, and finds out he can't.

And it all boils over into what looks very much like a meltdown; clawing at the armor, hitting things off his desk, throwing himself into the wall.

He runs away again and seeks comfort by going to the school, but only breaks down further as he realizes he can't go to school like a normal human anymore. Another example of a routine that's now suddenly impossible to maintain, which is often very upsetting to autistic people (speaking from experience).

Again, distances himself from his loved ones. I can imagine him thinking that they might not want him around anymore, if they see that he's changed, he's different.

He feels like he's lost his sense of identity (What am I, Blinky?), which can be a hard thing for me and other autistics to grasp. But eventually he accepts his loved ones' support. (and boy does he look exhausted by then, because meltdowns are extremely draining. Bro probably slept twelve hours after this)

And here's the hug, if y'all need cheering up after all that angst :)

Like I said, I bet there are lots more examples I could find combing through the series, but I'm at the photo limit and this is the strongest evidence I think there is. Of course it's just my headcanon, I don't think the writers actually intended for him to be autistic-coded, and I'm definitely not saying everyone has to headcanon this too. I just love Jim as a character so much and wanted to try making a little analysis post for once, cuz I feel a little more represented thinking about characters with traits and arcs like this. I hope it's comprehensible haha

[crossdressingdeath]

You know, thinking about it, I was wrong before. Nico has more reason to trust Hades than Percy does Poseidon at the time of the incident in TLO!

If you think about it, Percy's only evidence that Nico should've known it was a trap is that "[Nico] know[s] what [Hades]'s like", but... Nico's view of Hades would be much different from Percy's. Remember, Nico has a room in the palace at this time; Hades couldn't send him to his room the way he does later if he didn't have a room to be sent to. He's been living there! Hades allows him to live there! At this point Nico doesn't know that Hades used to visit him, Maria and Bianca regularly or that he actively stepped in to protect Nico and Bianca from Zeus and keep them safe until the time of Titan's Curse, but he does know that Hades is letting him live in his palace. Gods don't do that. Percy has to nearly die to even get a brief visit to Poseidon's palace, and he very openly knows that Poseidon wouldn't have claimed him to begin with if he didn't need him. Not to mention Poseidon has that whole thing where he explicitly tells Percy he wishes he didn't exist, which... is the sort of thing that's gonna have a negative impact on how you view your dad.

So when Percy says that Nico knows what Hades is like, what he's saying is basically... "The Underworld is evil and Hades is evil, how could you not know that," which is kind of an incredibly shitty thing to say to the child of Hades living in the Underworld? I mean, it is kind of just "You shouldn't trust your father because I think he's evil and the Underworld is evil", if I was Nico I'd be very concerned about what Percy thought of me when he started spouting that shit. Anyway, while Hades is far from a good father at this point in the series Nico still knows him as the father who is letting him live in his palace because he has nowhere to go, stepping well outside the usual bounds of gods interacting with their kids in the process. Hell, unless I've forgotten something (possible), it's entirely possible that by this point in the timeline Hades has already told Nico about Camp Jupiter (which would show a huge amount of faith in him, again above and beyond any other godly parent). Hades can be kind of a dick because all gods are dicks to their kids, but Nico has no particular reason not to trust him! Especially given Nico has exactly zero other adults in his life offering him any support and at this point in the timeline he doesn't remember his mother, so Hades is basically all he's got and he has no points of comparison other than his also-a-child sister who kinda sorta abandoned him (not going into her reasoning here but it was A Thing that would probably influence the way Nico thought about... caregivers, I guess, for lack of a better term to describe the twelve year old put in charge of her little brother) and Minos (who is... Minos. Enough said). It makes sense that when Hades says "Do this small thing for me and I'll tell you about your mother" Nico believes him, because while Hades has been awful to Nico at times there's no evidence that he's ever lied to him. Why should Nico doubt his father who gave him a place to stay when he had nothing and no one just because that father happens to be Hades and the place to stay happens to be the Underworld?

...Also in hindsight knowing just how much Hades spoils Nico (for a godly parent at least) in the future makes the "You know what Hades is like" thing kind of hilarious. Ah yes, the guy who gives Nico a place to stay when he has nowhere to go despite gods Not Doing That, tells him at least some of the gods' most guarded secrets and essentially takes it on faith that he'll keep his mouth shut, lets him get away with breaking the law that the dead stay dead without even a slap on the wrist, promises him a place in the palace when he eventually dies (which may or may not imply that Hades intends to make Nico a god when he bites it, but it's certainly not normal procedure for Underworld kids), tells him to his face he deserves everything, and backs up that claim by fulfilling his wishes with no payment required or debt accrued just because Nico asked if Hades thinking he deserved everything meant he'd do so (because Nico is a little shit, we love to see it) despite Hades claiming that wasn't actually what he meant. Why would Nico trust that guy? (I know, I know, it's not proof of anything at this point because most of that hasn't happened yet. But it is funny how completely Percy's claim that Nico should distrust his dad is eventually proved wrong by Hades spoiling his kid rotten.)

[cafejulii]

How Albert, William, and Louis Reflect The Holy Trinity in Christianity

(a 3 part analysis series that I had made year ago on another social media platform but would like to post here because why not)

P2: William

On to our main character, William, who represents Christ — a martyr who died by the hand of his own people for the salvation of humanity while simultaneously preaching messages of justice and equality for all. Though the other reflections I have made regarding Albert as God the Father and Louis as the Holy Spirit are indirect parallels; William had canonically been intended to serve as a direct parallel to Christ.

Starting from the very beginning William, alike Jesus, was born into poverty. Within both of their present societies, the idea of such a largely influential figure, not to mention, a figure promising salvation, being born without inherent status seemed impossible to fathom, as their mission would be directly hindered by a lack of finance, connections, and the overall discrimination they would face simply from being impoverished. However, this was done intentionally, for in both their cases, their humble beginnings allowed them to truly empathize with the struggles of the common man and show that salvation could be brought upon any person, regardless of societal status.

A direct parallel between William and Christ in Yuumori is made in Chapter 1, where William was seen preaching to the children in the orphanage about his mission to reform British society directly behind a cross, which is representative of not only Christ himself but his mission and eventual passion; a foreshadowing made to William's eventual sacrifice.

This particular scene also serves as reference to when Jesus spoke to the elders at the temple in Matthew 21:23, proclaiming the mission that the God had planned for the redemption of humanity at the ripe age of twelve, the very same age in which William was during this particular scene.

Both William and Christ always acted on the principal that all human life was of value regardless of status and were always charitable to those in need. In his lifetime, Jesus was known for dining with tax collectors, women of the night, the sick, and the poor; all people who during his time period were considered the lowest of the low.

William did the same with members of the lower class, as he associated with them regularly, despite protests from other members of the nobility.

Also, just as how Jesus preformed miracles to alter the course of people's lives for the better, William ran his criminal consultant business. Both Jesus and William insisted on no material cost for their services, only that the person would become a disciple of theirs; offering their life towards the mission they have in store.

During his ministry, Jesus was never shy on expressing his distaste for the Pharisees (the predominate religious sect that opposed Jesus because they wanted to maintain their own power), even flipping a table when they turned the temple into a marketplace...."Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the door of the Kingdom of Heaven in men's faces. You yourselves will not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to. Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!"

The hatred that William harbors towards the nobles is similar to Jesus's hatred of the Pharisees, as both groups hinder the progression and redemption of society solely because of their need for power. (The shutting of the Kingdom of Heaven in men's faces).

Not only this but like the Pharisees, the nobility of England are massive hypocrites, as they treat the lower class almost as savages who have no purpose in the world, objectively incorrect rhetoric, as it is the working class who upholds the foundations of England. The rich are savages, for they do nothing but bask in their own wealth while actively bringing about discord among the majority of the population. Due to this, William rebels against the nobility by bestowing punishment upon them, fueled by the rage he holds for their sins.

{ looking back on this analysis, I also potentially realize that the nobility is also representative of the demons that Christ had cast out during certain portions of his ministry, as William directly calls them "devils" in the moments before he kills them}

It is also important to note that Jesus was actually considered a criminal by the Pharisees, as they were concerned with the sheer amount of support he was gaining from the people of Israel who genuinely believed he was the Messiah. Since he preached that he was the Son of God despite regularly associating with the sinful, he was accused of blasphemy, even being compared to the Devil himself. The combination of these two things then led to him being framed for rebellion, as insisting on being "King of the Judeans", was a capital crime- which resulted in him being charged with counts of both treason and blasphemy, despite being innocent of any real crime and in fact, even making the world a better place. Such claims eventually led to his execution, and even though he could have possibly gotten out of this situation, his death was a necessary act, as it was the only way to the restoration of Original Holiness to humanity.

Like Jesus, William was also dubbed as a criminal, however, unlike Jesus; William did actually commit crimes. Still, the overwhelming support he gained from the common people at the beginning of the story is representative of the followers that Jesus gained during his ministry. However, by committing these crimes, William was eventually charged with both treason and conspiracy, even being called a Devil by London society [and himself], even though he committed such atrocities for the chance that someday there will be a world in which all people have equality of opportunity.

Similarly, to the mission of Christ, the only way that his plan would be fulfilled is if the common folk and the nobility targeted their anger at one singular person, ultimately unifying them but resulting in his own death.

On to the final problem, Albert states that "he [William] is starting to look like the guy who carried a cross while climbing the hill of Golgotha bearing all our sins and ultimately dying alone" which is a direct reference to Christ who died on the hill of Golgotha, bearing the sins of humanity on his back represented by a cross.

Then, as William fell of the Tower Bridge, He fell not only willingly, as Christ died willingly, but also in a position where both of his arms were stretched out on either side and his legs were more or less together in reference to the position that Jesus was forced in when he died on the cross.

Finally, both Jesus and William came back from "dead" to their Apostles (Jesus after 3 days and William after three years) after being in a state of Hell. Though William was not in a literal Hell, the agony that his mental state caused him at the time could definitely be considered a form of hell.

There is also this official art [left] in which William is depicted with a crown of thorns atop of his head.This is a direct reference to Christ who had a wreath of thorns placed upon his head by the Roman soldiers who mocked his title as "The King of the Jews" before he climbed Golgotha for his execution.

{Also at the time I had written this, the remains had not been released, and this may be a bit of a stretch as well, however, I believe that the flower crown Albert is placing on William's head similarly serves as a reference to Jesus as well. Only, the only difference is that it is not a crown of thorns yet a crown of flowers, perhaps meant to represent a halo}

disclaimer: I am an ex-christian, however, I had been raised in the faith and just happened to keep a large interest in scripture despite the fact I have departed from the church. Do correct me if there is any misinformation.

[todaysjewishholiday]

1 Elul 5784 (3-4 September 2024)

“Ani l’dodi v’dodi li/ I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” Shir HaShirim 6:3

Chodesh tov! Today is the first day of Elul, and the second day of Rosh Chodesh. The grief and consolation of Av is behind us for another year and we turn inwards and upwards. The sages make much of the fact that the Hebrew spelling of the word Elul— aleph lamed vav lamed— is an acronym for the poetic declaration of love which they took to be a statement of HaShem’s love for the Jewish people. In Jewish tradition, Elul is a month when the sovereign of heaven and earth leaves the throne and joins us in the field of our day to day struggles— a time when G-d draws near to us, making it that much easier for us to draw near to G-d.

This month-long period of divine closeness is of course a prelude to what is to come— the ten day period beginning with Rosh haShana and ending with Yom Kippur during which Jewish tradition calls us to to do the work of repairing our relationships with our fellow humans and the divine in preparation for our eventual mortality. These ten days— the Yamim Noraim, or Days of Awe— require a level of spiritual awareness that cannot be reached in a sudden leap. It requires at minimum a thirty day head start. Which is exactly what our tradition tells us Elul can be for us.

Forty day periods are important in the Hebrew Bible. In the beginning, it takes forty days and nights of continuous rain to cleanse the earth of human violence in the flood narrative. Later, Moshe spends forty days and nights receiving the words of the covenant directly from HaShem on Mount Sinai. And then, if midrash is to be trusted, does so two more times after his first visit ends with the catastrophe of the golden calf. The twelve spies spend forty days scouting out the promised land— and the outcome of their bad report is forty more years of exile. Eliyahu also spends forty days fasting en route to and atop Mount Sinai, and Yonah gives the city of Nineveh a forty day advance warning of its potential destruction. The thirty days of Elul and ten days of the Yamim Noraim give us an annual forty day period of introspection and repair work. Teshuvah and self awareness are of course intended to be continual, but we can still benefit from this season of heightened introspection and added deliberateness in our examination of where we are and what we need to work on to become who we want to become. May this season be fruitful and meaningful for you all.

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. / chapter 11.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F!Reader (Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin)

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: flashback one - day one, eighteen years ago

Warnings: graphic violence and mentions of death involving minors, implied child abuse, depictions of poverty and corruption, alcohol, starvation

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 11 - FLASHBACK: ONE

note: the next couple of chapters will be heavily influenced by the ova 'no regrets'. if you have yet to watch those episodes, i highly encourage to check them out. otherwise you will get spoiled on elements revolving around levi's backstory. i will also preface if you are sensitive to violence involving children fighting each other, then you may want to skip this flashback.

“Another!”

Thwack.

EIGHTEEN YEARS EARLIER

There are two of everything right in front of your eyes.

The world splits in half, meshing and morphing into shapes and spaces you can’t quite comprehend. 

Your fingers seek to cling to a nearby lamp post and miss — but a two-step stumble helps you grab onto the cool metal on your second reach. 

Stability. You need some kind of stability.

Especially if you’re going to win against him.

You’re only nine years of age when Mother tosses you into the world of illegal street fighting. Starting kids young means the return investment can provide longevity — for her and her wallet. Surviving and winning are ideal, but betting against a wounded horse can also turn a profit.

No matter what, she cannot lose.

This woman is not your mother, not really — your biological mother is long gone, trapped somewhere lost in the spices or selling the night to strangers.

Perhaps she’s even dead. You almost prefer that narrative. It sounds peaceful.

(Mother says you have that woman’s eyes. You’re not sure if she’s lying.)

Calling her Mother evades wandering questions from Military Police that patrol the streets of the Underground City from time to time, looking to issue fines or arrests. According to her, they leave unassuming parents alone — the police pity the mouths they have to feed yet turn the other cheek without a solution.

Mother is vicious. Mother is cutthroat. Yet Mother is hailed for her ingenious operations by her circle of drunks and degenerates.

Mother spends too much money at her favorite pub, Roxy's, where you’ve spent countless nights falling asleep on benches waiting for table scraps. 

And Mother has made it very clear that she sees one trajectory for your miserable life:

To utilize all of your fury in the name of the almighty coin.

You are not her first child, nor will you be her last. There used to be six of you, but she’s now waning down to four. Unfortunate accidents — kids never last long in the Underground; a sector full of orphans with sullen faces, hungry bellies, and hungrier fists.

Most families down here cannot afford children. Hustlers, however, can. From trafficking to spice mules to fates far worse than your own, you’re considered lucky.

(According to Mother, parentless brats are easy targets and even bigger wins.)

Eventually you’ll die somewhere in a sewage drain like the others before you. 

Just not today.

Fighting is hard — of course it is, you’re just a kid — but now, at twelve years old, you refuse to lay down and die.

You intend to win. You intend to live.

So you endure and you punch your way out of death’s cold fingers day after day after day.

Sort of like him.

Your opponent in question waits for you to find your footing at the dismay of the wails and shouts of onlookers creating the circle around you. He stands on the other side of the rowdy circle with practiced fists held high at his defense.

Like he’s done this as long as you, if not longer.

(He could very well be the reason you’re sent to an early grave if you’re not smart about your next lineup of attacks.)

The child across from you — possibly the same age, give or take a year or two — has the coldest stare you’ve ever witnessed. He’s small in stature; the tattered hand-me-downs hang off of his boney frame, the fabric too baggy for his malnourished body.

This boy, however, is fierce. The way he carries himself through this entire street brawl screams trained — as if he came out of the womb kicking and screaming, ready to fight.

He isn’t one of the barrack brats sent for easy slaughter nor is he a stolen kid like you.

At the edge of the circle, a tall and lanky man with a tan fedora watches intently. He’s the one who asked the boy to throw another punch a few minutes earlier. His eyes never leave the boy’s movements for a second. 

A cigarette dangles between his fingers like he’s not the least bit worried about the boy’s safety, not even when you finally charge him with a punch.

The boy dodges, swiftly swinging his own. You duck before it can connect with your face.

Over and over, you meet like this. Swing and a miss. Kick and a block.

You’re evenly matched.

People are getting bored. They want bloodshed, not skill.

If you win? It could win her a lot of money.

If you lose? It’s one less mouth to feed and a new opportunity to find fresh meat.

A clean punch from your fist finally connects with the boy’s eye, earning a chorus of boo’s. Once more you flop back against the street lamp in exhaustion, holding onto its metal body to ground you. 

The boy grunts, holding his face. The man on the sidelines merely laughs, amused at the surprise shot.

You wonder if this man is the kid’s father.

(You can only hope not all parents, adopted or otherwise, are like this.)

Yet the boy does what is asked of him: another. He stalks towards your shaking body at the street lamp and swings, but you manage to duck to the ground with a sweep of your leg before he can land the blow.

He falls to the floor, offering an opportunity for you to scramble on top of him to get the upper hand. You roll together in the dirt-ladened cobblestone street, ripping at each other's hair and yelping with a ferocity of wild animals.

People shout and toss their coins into the makeshift ring, throwing obscenities and swears in an effort to finish the bitch already!

You’ve learned quickly that the bitch is a crude name for you.

And he does try. The boy bites, kicks, grabs what he can while you defend your face and neck, forcibly rolling yourselves over to get a few cheap shots in. You’re pretty sure you hit him in the eye again. He hits your jaw and draws blood.

In a blink his hands fly to your throat, squeezing but without intent. You gasp under him, kicking and flailing your limbs to find something nearby to stop him.

Then a gun fires overhead.

The fight — once hopeful to the brink of death — is over.

“MPs inbound, seven o’clock!” shouts an older woman from the sidelines.

The carnage scatters into the darkened alleyways of the Underground.

The man coaching the boy on the sidelines now enters the invisible ring to grab him, effectively pulling him from you. The boy lets go of your throat instantly, disinterested in finishing the job. Unlike so many others before him, he doesn't care about the kill. It's unusual.

A surge of air hits your windpipe and you choke on it, still seeing double of the gray-eyed child as he disappears out of view.

“Get up, James.”

You recognize the voice.

"James!"

The name she gave you.

“Hurry, they’re coming.”

You move, but it's not fast enough. Mother drags you by the hair to help you onto your feet, scowling at the interruption of a fight she was so damn sure you had.

(You don’t think you would have won.)

“Mother, who was that?” you ask softly, finding that your voice is hoarse from all the shouting and strangulation. “The boy, who was that?”

She ignores you, grappling with your wrist to drag you into an alleyway.

Your eyes stay transfixed on the billowing trench coat of the cigarette man until he, too, disappears from the watchful eye of the military police.

Once you're out of sight, Mother drops to a crouch, assessing surface-level bruising and scrapes with her eyes.

Nothing about it is loving.

“You have to train to be as good as him,” she finally tells you.

Your eyes meet for just a second.

She was probably beautiful when she was a teenager, but her soul made her ugly. Harsh lines cut into her face from years of smoking. Her voice is bumpy like gravel, but there is a sickeningly sweet tune to her tone even when dealing with her children.

It can be terrifying sometimes; how soft she can sound with such angry, unforgiving words.

“Answer me, James,” Mother demands as she tugs your bruised wrist closer.

You don’t move your face, even if your entire body hurts. 

“I know.”

“He could have killed you.”

“I know.”

“But you would have won.”

(You don’t think you would have won.)

You keep your gaze to your scuffed shoes as she harshly wipes the blood from your face with a handkerchief.

“Say you would have won,” Mother insists. “You can be easily replaced by another sibling if you don’t think you can win next time.”

“Next time?” you accidentally ask, and those lines on her face sink deeper. Your eyes widen. “Yes, Mother, I would have won. You know I’m your best child.”

The lines on her forehead gradually smooth out. Her red lips curl into that sick, sweet smile.

“That’s right. You are my best child.”

If it were any other situation, then perhaps this statement would bring you some comfort. It doesn’t.

Being her best means you’re taking the brunt of the worst fights. Being her best means you have to fight harder with the same consequences if you fail.

You say nothing, do nothing, and wait for her to stop wiping at your sore face. It takes a few more seconds, but once she’s satisfied, Mother stands at full height and resumes her descent into the alleyway.

Her hand fishes an unassuming cloth coin purse from her jacket pocket and you immediately know where you’re heading. 

.

.

.

.

If you love the prospect of pissing money away, then Roxy’s pub in the southern quadrant of the Underground City is the place to be.

It’s Mother’s favorite place — where the downtrodden meet to pretend things aren’t so dire in the Underground City. It’s routine for the same group of people to end up here every other night, if not every night.

Because of the frequent patronage, the staff are willing to give you under-the-table food scraps for free so Mother can use her money for other things.

Like gambling.

According to one of the regulars named Bill, it was you who took the brunt of the street brawl wounds: busted lip, sprained ankle and wrist, potential concussion to the head. Under a makeshift bandage placed by one of the whiskey-soaked corner dwellers of the pub, the congealed blood on your forehead intermittently tickles your brow.

He implies your opponent didn’t end up much better. Bill won’t go into the specifics, but he says it's impressive you’ve held your own against that little devil.

Most people at the event bet against you. A draw was your best chance at survival.

You take Bill’s word for it.

Despite the lack of win, Mother celebrates with her favorite bar-goers. They’ve been drunk for well over three hours now, sloshing ale and whiskey across the bar top with little consideration. They cheer her name — not yours — and fill her glass as a cigarette dangles between her fingertips.

Payment after payment, money pours in front of her ashtray from regular betters.

People who have no excuse to gamble their money away but live for the thrill of it.

You, however, hide in the shadows of the pub — out of sight and out of mind.

God, you're exhausted.

Finishing your roll of bread given to you by the barmaid takes effort. Even the act of eating leaves you spent. 

Halfway down you stop trying, staring at your food with a grimace. You wonder if there’s water to wash it down. Maybe if it’s mushy, it won’t be so bad.

Yet when you raise your attention from your lap, you’re surprised at what your eyes catch. The sight rushes the air rushes from your lungs.

Although the small person's head is bowed, you recognize the mop of wild black hair instantly.

(It's him.)

In the opposite corner of the pub, the boy from today’s street brawl sits quietly on a bench. Splotches of bruises peek out at the apple of his cheek. His reddened hands rest idly in his lap while his feet dangle, too short to reach the floor beneath his hole-ridden shoes.

(He's really here.)

And his guardian — his father? — is the man whooping and hollering over copious amounts of liquor beside Mother. You make the connection with a wandering gaze, noting the very same trench coat from the street now spilling over a bar stool in Mother’s proximity.

How long have the two of them been here? This entire time?

Without thinking, you slowly stand from your bench and take a breath.

You’re not sure what possesses you to hobble towards him.

Maybe it’s because he looks so sad.

Maybe it’s because you’re projecting your own wayward confusions and sadness onto him.

Maybe it’s because there aren’t many kids left that understand what it means to put your fist to someone’s face with the intention of breaking it.

And just like that, he notices you, too.

There is a sharpness in the way his chin tilts to acknowledge your growing presence, quick to detect and assess the danger.

You pause in your next step, on your bad ankle, and wince.

Gradually the boy raises his attention, sockets sullen and as gray as the iris of his eye. His left eye is purple from where you socked him twice at the tail end of the fight.

He doesn’t speak.

Neither do you.

Wordlessly, you limp closer towards his bench. He doesn’t move. You lean back and start to fish for the food burrowed in your tattered coat pocket, but he tenses.

Glares.

As if you’re going to bring out something that will finish the job that street brawl only started.

Instead you hold out your free hand — wait, I'm no threat — and produce the half-eaten roll of bread given to you by the barkeep in the other.

“Have you eaten?” Your voice is still hoarse from shouting.

The boy continues to glare, briefly dropping his attention to the bread now outstretched for him to take.

He remains silent, immobile, while the party rages in the other room.

Maybe it’s a lost cause.

Maybe this was a stupid idea.

Maybe—

“No.”

Small but audible; the boy answers in a murmur. For a kid so agile in a fight, he sure looks scrawny up close. 

Breakable.

“Would you like some?” you ask instead, gesturing once more with your outstretched arm for him to take the bread you have left.

He doesn’t react beyond blinking down to the food again.

“I already ate half of it,” you add, like it’ll make taking the free handout easier for him.

Fraction by fraction, the small boy removes a cracked and bruised hand from his lap and raises his slender fingers to take the bread from you.

You let go once there is weight to its end, mindful of your distance.

The boy studies the food as if it’s a rare specimen, looking it over for mold or poison, before heading the already bitten half to his mouth.

He swallows thickly, coating a dry throat.

“Thanks.”

The gratitude sinks your shoulders down, lessening the stress pinched in your back. You sigh softly once he’s taken a bird-sized bite, chewing slowly to savor the taste.

You want to tell him that you ate just as slow so he doesn’t feel self conscious but decide against it.

“Can I… sit?” you ask as he starts on his second bite, causing him to pause. Contemplate.

He nods once, so you nestle into the empty spot beside him.

For what feels like hours you sit beside this strange quiet boy in silence, happy not to be alone.

He eats in a mild-mannered way, careful not to spill crumbs on his worn clothes. 

He finishes his half of the bread eventually but never tries to speak to you. 

You don’t mind.

Here on this bench, two children of the Underground City can rest — if only for a short while.

You both tense at the sound of a loud howl from the bar, but it is only you who looks. Some of the patrons have begun a slurred rendition of a surface hymn. A man shouting louder than the rest, belligerent and shitfaced, catches your attention. 

It’s him: the boy’s keeper. Long, unkempt hair flies out from the bottom of the hat like wires as ale sloshes high over his head.

Others join his singing with grating enthusiasm.

“Is… that your dad?” you gently ask.

The boy continues to pick apart what’s left of the little roll, ignoring your question.

You turn your chin to watch the drunk tirade, assuming he won’t respond.

Until—

“Is that your mom?” he retorts, and you whip your attention back to him.

The boy watches you instead of the rowdy pub patrons.

You suck in a sharp breath, uncomfortable with the sight of how badly his eye has been blackened thanks to your attack.

Are you sorry, for bashing his face the way you did? Is he?

Mother’s told you it’s nothing personal. It’s just business.

(No one stuck in the Underground City can afford to feel remorse — or worse: regret.)

“No,” you answer, and he takes another bite. “I call her Mother, but… she found me.”

He doesn’t react — only chews, like every bite may be his last, and swallows. His tongue darts out to lick the crumbs from his busted lip.

You lean in closer to whisper again.

“Do you have a na—”

“Levi!”

A name.

The shout erupts from a familiar gruff voice. The drunken trench coat man hangs over the bar, squinting to find somebody in an alcoholic haze.

Your question dies on your lips when the man's attention lands on the two of you.

“Oh! Levi! There you are. Ready to head out, boy? You’re supposed to be training in a few hours.”

He turns widely to the crowd of drinkers, belligerent and wasted.

“Not that he needs to. Kid’ll kill just about anyone you ask him to. Gotta keep a runt busy, am I right?”

The bench creaks.

The boy — Levi — stands obediently. His hands are empty, bread devoured and gone, but he continues to regard you from his peripheral vision.

You stay put, lips parted with a sentiment, a feeling, you cannot put into words.

For whatever feels like forever, you both stare at each other.

Then he leaves without another word.

You stay and fall fast asleep on the bench, bruised cheek pressed to the warmth of where a scrawny boy named Levi sat, until Mother is ready to stumble home at sunrise.

.

author's note: i know this update a rough one, but i promise the next is that levi/james banter we know and love. i've planned this structure from the original outline, so i hope the next installments are as exciting to you as they are to me. the original concept of silver underground was to build a memory loss fic starting at the middle of the story as it's technically your perceived beginning. now we're witnessing the real beginning.

if people are interested, i may write levi's pov of the flashbacks as additional content.

tag list: @lazylizzy3 @notgoodforlife @sad-darksoul @dailydoseof-love @maliakealoha @nube55 @kateastrophies @blinkingsuns @gomigami @voidszoro @tanyeonn @chishiyasan

[yeaimsafiya]

EUPHORIA

CHAPTER ONE* back from rehab extended

SYPNOSIS the beginning of a teenage girl named y/n who is fresh out of rehab but doesn't intend to stay clean.

FROM THE WRITER I'M SORRY GUYS!! Yes I know I was supposed to post this part FOUR FLIPPING MONTHS AGO but I got so busy with school that I forgot that I was supposed to upload (and also took a break bc school is fckin tiring). BUT ITS HERE, THE FULL CHAPTER! This chapter has most of the first half from last time but if you don't want to re-read it, please skip to the third cut of this one. I Love you guys so much and I'll have most of my chapters out when I can this and next month- Love you all, Sapiyah <3

WARNINGS Lots of unnecessary writing, female! reader, VERY LONG CHAPTER, mentions of drugs and drinking, strong sexual content, nudity, violence, adult content, adult language, scenes might be uncomfortable for some, some scenes might include mentions of mental illness'

SERIES EUPHORIA

CHARACTERS INCLUDED members of the bakusquad & dekusquad, big three(?), some characters of class 1A

NOTES MDNI! Ageless blogs will be either blocked or removed

Readers discretion is advised

Suddenly, the whole world goes dark and nothing else matters except for the person standing in front of you.

i. <3

You were once happy. Content.

Sloshing and swimming around your own private, primordial pool; Then one day, for reasons beyond your control, you were continuously and repeatedly crushed...

Over..and over.. again by the cervix of your mother, M/n.

You put up a good fight, but eventually lost, for the first time, but not the last.

You were born 3 days after 9/11, your mother and father spent two days in the hospital, holding you under the soft glow of the television, watching those towers fall over and over again, until the feeling of grief gave away to numbness.

And then, without warning, a middle-class childhood in the American suburbs.

|

You were sitting at the dinner table with your mother, M/n, and Father, F/n. But it appeared something else had gotten your attention, a set of numerous lights above the dinner table, in which you wanted to count.

"Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen.."

" What are you looking at y/n?"

"..."

"What are you doing? ..Y-y/n look at me."

"One, two, three, .."

"What are you doing Y/n?"

*cries*

|

"Id say she's suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder..."

Its not like you were physically abused..

"...attention deficit disorder..."

..Or had some type of clean water storage..

"..general anxiety disorder.."

..Or was molested by a family member.

"..and possibly bipolar disorder. But she's a little bit too young to tell."

So, explain this shit to me.

|

"Honey, it's just the way your brain was hardwired; Plenty of great, intelligent, funny, interesting and creative people have struggled with the same things you struggle with."

"Like who?"

"Vincent Van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, and even Brittney Spears, your favorite!"

You haven't remembered much from the ages of eight to twelve. Just that the world moved fast, and your mind moved slow.

"Does anyone have an idea of what a perception might be?"

And every now and then, if you focused on the way you breathed...

You'd die.

"Slow down, just breathe"

Until every second of the day, you'd find yourself trying to outrun your anxiety.

"What's wrong Y/n?"

..And quite frankly..

"I'm just fucking exhausted"

|

Coming down to the kitchen, you could hear the small talk between your mother and younger sister, S/N.

"You said the doctor was in our network. How can he suddenly be out of network?"

"I can't afford it."

"Did you see that video of the girl who got acid thrown at her face?"

"What? No.."

"It's pretty fucked up.."

"Mom do you know where the tampons are?"

"In my bathroom, right under the sink."

And at one point, you'd make a choice of who you are and what you want.

"Alright s/n, let's go"

"Why do the co-payments cost $300?"

"Y/n did you eat breakfast?"

".."

"What's with the glasses?"

"What glasses?"

You just happened to show up one day, without a map or a compass..

"Attention students, we need to lockdown."

..Or to be honest, anyone capable of giving on iota of good fucking advice.

And I know it all seems sad but guess what? You did not build this system up, nor fuck it up yourself.

But then it happens. That moment where your breath starts to slow. And every time you breathe, you breathe out all the oxygen you have.

Then everything stops: Your heart, your lungs, then finally, your brain. And everything you feel, you wish, and want to forget, it all just sinks.

And then suddenly... you give it air again, give it life again.

You remember the first time it happened, where you were so scared you wanted to call 911. Go to the hospital and be kept alive by machines and apple juice. But you didn't want to look like an idiot, and you didn't want to fuck up everyone else's night.

And now overtime, that's all you've wanted.. those two seconds of nothingness.

ii. <3

You spent a good portion of summer before junior year in rehab. God granted you the serenity to accept things you cannot change, the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

"Y/N," your sister yelled from afar, greeting you after your long leave. You smiled, and whilst running up to her, tried to continue the conversation with your younger sibling.

"Hey, Come here!"

"How are you?"

"Good, I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"Look at you, are you growing?"

"No."

Looking over, you see your mother standing by your family car.

"Hey," you yelled out to her, only to receive a small smile from her.

And with that. you knew it was your time to go.

|

"I'm very happy for you Y/n. You're about to start a brand-new chapter," Your mother says while driving you and your sister to school. You looked at her with a smile, then turned your attention back to the car window.

You had no intentions of staying clean. And yet, Jirou just moved into town.

"There's some new girl in town that I think you'll be friends with," Shoto said, with you standing beside him in his store.

"Who?"

"Shit, I don't know. She came in looking all punk rock and shit; So I'm thinking to myself, like, 'look like somebody Y/n would be friends with'."

Which was sort of a dead-on observation for Shoto, who's not normally revolving in the same direction as planet earth.

"So how long have you been back?" He asked.

"About five days."

"And how are you feeling?"

"I mean, ever since I gave my life over to my lord and savior Jesus Christ, things have been, like, really good."

"Word? That's what's up," You chuckled at his snarky remark, giving him a small smile.

"I'm fucking with you," you said whilst laughing, "It was a joke."

"Shit, hey, I don't judge," he defended, hands raising to just above his chest.

"But for real, is Deku in the back?"

"Are you serious?" Shoto questioned, seeming very disappointed in you.

"What, you think cause' I went to rehab I stayed clean?"

"I mean, ain't that the point?" he asks.

"Yeah, well, the world is coming to an end, and I haven't even graduated high school yet."

You gave Shoto one more smile before going to Deku, whilst Shoto stared at you the entire way there; There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but since you were too busy looking for Deku, you didn't see.

You opened one of the doors of the refrigerators, leading you right to him with a bowl of fruit loops,"I thought your ass was dead," he said one he saw your appearance.

"And I thought you had Asperger's till I realized your just a prick," you barked back.

"This a fickle industry, y'all come and go. I'm just trying to stack my cash, pay off our mortgage," he said while pulling out a bunch of plastic bags out of a microwave.

"So what the fuck do you want?" You gave him a knowing look before he handed you needed.

"You sure you don't want to try something new?" He asks you.

"Like what?"

"2C-T-2, 2C-T-7, and 5-MeO-DIPT."

"I'm sorry I have no fucking idea of what you just said."

"It doesn't matter," he stated, "but this shit, is fucking lit."

"What is it?"

"N-diisopropyl-5-methoxytryptamine. It's a fast-acting psychedelic."

Got some similarities to LSD, but with, like, key differences. Not as visual as shit, but definitely a sense distorter.

"What's wrong?" That same dark purple hair girl questioned.

"I'm just so happy," you responded back.

"I don't know, this shits been going off in Tampa, and mad people like to fuck with this," Deku continued on with his descriptions with the drug.

"Okay. Yeah, why not."

"That'll be 120."

"Oh uh, Shoto said he'd spot me."

"Shoto doesn't spot nobody."

"Yeah, well, it's a post-rehab discount, so you should ask him."

"And I will go ask him, cause' I know your full of shit."

Those were the last words he said before you walked out. Those were the last words you heard before you saw the same two boys in their freshman year.

Bakugo and Kirishima.

iii. <3

In truth, you really didn't have a problem with Bakugo, but that was before all the bullshit with Jirou. I mean you never liked him, and once, during freshman formal, he tried fingering you on the dance floor without your consent. But like... This was Japan. And if they were throwing an end-of-summer party...

"Yo, I'd do it for Y/n! Haha!"

..Of course you'd fucking go.

|

"Yo, the whole world's gonna be talking about how Kirishima threw the grimmest banger of the summer," The blonde had said, driving in the front seat.

"I don't know bro. You know my mom's a real OCD. She sees one little scratch on the wall, the dishes are out of order-" His red-haired friend said before being interrupted.

"We'll just take a picture of everything. We'll put it back the way we found it."

"The fuck is this? Mission Impossible?" The red-haired asked.

"Could you please stop fucking worrying about your mom? You need to be worrying about all the pussy that we're gonna smash tonight."

"No, no, no, nonono, isn't Ochako coming tonight?"

"Who cares, I'on give a fuck. She's the one who broke up with me in the first place; So fuck her."

"See, no, 'cause she's crazy bakubro. I don't need her coming here and burning my house down."

"Shut the fuck up you red-haired bitch," he snarled back.

"See this is exactly what I've been talking about. Right here," the blonde haired said at the sight of the purple haired girl riding her bike, headphones in her ears; Jirou.

"Bro, don't do anything stupid. Come on let's just go" Kirishima protested, he was not with the blondes idea. But the blonde ignored him as per usual.

"Yo what up B! How about you come and ride this dick?" He yelled at the indigo haired girl, in which she raised the finger back at him.

He laughed at her as she fell from her wobbly bike, slashing her knee onto the pavement; While the red-haired sat and stared.

"What the fuck bro?!" Kirishima replied, concerned as to why his own best friend would do that but cmon, lets be real, it was Bakugo.. he didn't care.

"Whoops."

Jirou moved from the city to the suburbs right wafter her mom and dad had gotten a divorce. She doesn't really like to talk about it, but dads almost never get full custody, so you know some shit had definitely went down.

She went to about three weeks of summer school with Tsuyu, who failed Intro to Visual Arts.

| ------------------------------------------------------------------------ |

"Guys, do you think my areolas look weird?" The pink haired known as Mina asked, right out of the blue.

"No, they look fine to me kero," Tsu replied back; confused as to why she would ask a question like that.

"But like on the edges though.."

"Mina, they're fine."  

"Okay; fine like they look strange or fine like nobody's going to notice them?"

"Fine like shut the fuck up Mina; You're over-exaggerating ," A black haired girl known as Momo had said from the bathroom, annoyed by the brunette's self-degradation.

"Disgusting, I look absolutely disgusting."

"Mina, you need to snap the fuck out of your delusions, your hot as fuck! Bakugo's just a big ass loser who cares?" Tsu argued back.

"He's not just a 'loser'. He's a dick."

"All dicks are losers, obviously."

"Look, besides that, y'all need to walk into this party like your pussy costs a million dollars," the black haired shouted from the bathroom.

"Real, I'd settle for like, at least fifty grand."

"Fifty grand is a million dollars Mina."

"I could settle for, like, four Corona Lights and some non-rapey affection."

"That's sounds depressing."

"Either way, Bakugo's just totally ruined my confidence. I thought he was different but he's just one of those people who are constantly criticizing everything about you."

"Yep. That's about almost every guy."

"Honestly, you just need to catch a dick and forget about your troubles."

"Girl, you just need to catch a dick."

"Seriously, Uraraka, the best thing to do after a recent breakup is to fuck someone completely new, and then move on."

"Please, Momo, remind me again how many guys you've fucked before? And yeah, cat-fishing, that don't count.?"

"Tsu, could you not be a fucking cunt for like, 15 seconds?"

"Hey Mina?" Her father questioned, walking in with no knowledge of the situation in front of him; causing a reaction out of her.

"Dad, stop being a damn pervert! We're literally, like, all naked in here!"

And with that response, her dad had left without a sound.

iiii. <3

"Y/n, where the hell have you been?" Your mother asked, upset and concerned.

"I just went out to eat, nothing else," You lied

"What the hell do you mean, 'you went to eat'?" She questioned.

"What?" You questioned back whilst walking away to calm the situation. However, your mom wasn't going to till she had her answer.

"What?! Don't you walk away from me." She yelled whilst continuing to follow you. And if you'd look close enough, you could visibly see that she was pissed by the way her face heated up.

"You know what, Y/n? I don't even think I can trust you anymore at this point."

"Mom, I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to tell me where you were."

"I just said I went to fucking eat!"

"Don't you talk to me like that! You know what? I'm gonna drug test you." She said, but in response, you had slammed the door to your room out of anger and frustration.

"Don't be slamming no doors around here."

"It was an accident."

"I don't care. You're not leaving this house until you take a drug test."

"I just peed!" You shouted, slamming another door in the house.

"Slam another door."

"That girl's gonna be the death of me."

Now see, there's a few ways to beat a drug test. The first is simple. Just stop doing drugs. But if you're in a bind and totally fucked, there are some others.

Option one: niacin. It's a B vitamin that, like, breaks down fat and chemicals or whatever, and if you take a lot of it, like 2,000 milligrams, then chug a few gallons of water, you can flush your system in two to three days. The only problem is, it has a few side effects. Skin flushing, extreme dizziness, vomiting, rapid heartbeat, and sometimes death. I don't recommend it. Nor does any legit drug site on the internet.

Option 2: synthetic urine.. Yeah, fucking right

Option 3: get a non-drug addict friend to piss for you. The only problem is... ...most over-the-counter home drug testing kits come with a heat-sensor strip that detects the temperature of your urine. And if your parents watch you pee, you can't really do the sink trick. So you gotta get it fresh.

"Hey, Rue."

"Hey, I... I need a favor."

"What?"

"I... like for real, Uraraka."

"What?"

"Side effects of this option?"

"Are you serious?"

"Please. Thanks."

"Hey, Rue. How was rehab?" The brunettes mother questioned, sitting on the couch whilst smoking a cigarette.

To be completely honest, it was Shit. But you obviously weren't gonna tell them that were you?

"It was good. It was really good," you lied.

"Well, that's good. How long have you been back?"

"Five days."

"Oh. New chapter then, isn't that great!"

"Mom."

"Hmm?"

You and Uraraka have known each other since pre-school. And like, in some ways she's your best friend, even though you think you've grown apart. You don't really have much in common anymore.

"Did you meet any cute guys there?" Her mother kept asking while you were talking to her.

"Here's that eyeliner."

"Thanks."

"Mom, I have to pee!" You yelled as she entered the bathroom, watching you before her very eyes.

"I wish we could do this in a way that wasn't a complete invasion of my privacy."

"Well, you lost your right to privacy after your overdose."

"That was a mistake."

"Don't be flip, Y/n."

"Could you... Thank you."

You don't understand. This was the most frightening moment a mother could witness. And S/n... ,S/n who absolutely idolizes you...

"Listen, I know Mom.."

"To have her find you unconscious..."

"Can we just... Can we not do this right now, Mom?"

Rue?

Rue.

Rue..?

I know a lot of people probably hate it right now, and you probably get it. If you could be a different person, I promise that you would. Not because you specifically want to, but because they do. And therein lies the catch.

"I'm sorry... for slamming the door earlier."

"It's okay. I forgive you. Come here," she said, embracing you in a 3 minute hug; almost as if she was going to lose you to somebody.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I spend the night at Uraraka's?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Thanks."

"..Yeah."

All work is subject to copyright by © yeaimsapiyah as of 2024.

Do not steal, use or re-upload my work without given my permission or consent. If so, you will either be blocked and/or removed.

[kookaburra1701]

Khemor gro-Skaven

(Portrait by @thana-topsy, full version here)

Race: Osh Ornim (Iron Orc) Sex: Male Birthdate (given): 1st Morningstar, 4E 161 (40 years old in 4E 201) Birthdate (actual): Unknown Birthplace: somewhere in the Dragontail Mountains. Places of Residence: Skaven, Hammerfell > Water's Edge, Cyrodiil > Windhelm, Skyrim

Former factions: College of Whispers Current factions: Stormcloaks, Thane of Windhelm and the Pale

Khemor’s story will be told in my Homeric Orcs Series.

Early life in Hammerfell

The Iron Orc who would eventually be known as Khemor gro-Skaven was barely five years old when he was stricken with Rockjoint. ("Common in little orc children." --Murbul) Although he survived the disease, it left one of his legs atrophied and partially paralyzed. His clan, a particularly brutal group of Osh Ornim, intended to abandon him in Dragonstar in Craglorn as they did not want to waste the resources of the stronghold raising a permanently disabled child.

Whether it was fate, the hand of the gods, or just coincidence, Khemir at-Arlimahera, a wizard from a prominent Crown family in Skaven was traveling through the area and encountered the abandoned child before any harm befell him. The wizard sensed Khemor had a deep well of magicka and even though he was completely untrained he was manipulating the ebb and flow of ambient magicka in the world.

From Nostos, Khemor's central fic, set after the Main Quest and conclusion of the Civil War:

“My master was a once-in-ten-generations intellect when it came to the ebb and flow of magicka, delving into the secrets of the arcane, and uncovering the mysteries of Oblivion. But he was at a loss when it came to choosing a name for an Orsimer foundling.”

Khemir brought Khemor up as his apprentice: while Skaven was more magically inclined than most places in Hammerfell, Khemir's studies focused on various forms of Mysticism that intersected with Necromancy. Thus Khemor learned to be very circumspect and discreet from an early age.

Because of the reputation of Iron Orcs as particularly brutal and unintelligent, Khemor views his heritage with a deep sense of shame, and was brought up almost completely divorced from larger Orc culture, even more so than most "city Orcs" as he lacks any connections to anyone living in a stronghold. Most non-Orcs or people who are not from the Dragontail mountains do not pick up on the indicators of his heritage, and most who do clock him are too polite to mention it.

However, he does have a particular fondness for unusual rocks and minerals, and picks up pretty ones whenever he finds them. He also prefers to use un-faceted Soul Gems.

The Great War came to Skaven in 4E 173 when Khemor was twelve years old:

In Hammerfell, Imperial fortunes took a turn for the better. In early 4E 173, a Forebear army from Sentinel broke the siege of Hegathe (a Crown city), leading to the reconciliation of the two factions. Despite this, Lady Arannelya's main army succeeded in crossing the Alik'r Desert. The Imperial Legions under General Decianus met them outside Skaven in a bloody and indecisive clash. Decianus withdrew and left Arannelya in possession of Skaven, but the Aldmeri were too weakened to continue their advance.

--Legate Justianus Quintius, The Great War

Despite "only" lasting two years, the Empire's abandonment of Hammerfell and subsequent Thalmor occupation of Skaven was very formative for Khemor. Both he and his master were able to weather the occupation, but it took a toll on both of them. Khemor especially was not able to recieve chiurgeons' services for his leg during that critical time, which meant that his leg was unable to make a complete recovery like they had hoped, and so he’s used a cane to walk for his entire life.

From Katabasis, the story that details Calder the housecarl's adventures alongside Khemor during Skyrim's MQ:

Khemor sighed. “To say that I was ‘in’ [The Great War] would be a grave misstatement. I was only a child. Rather, the war came to Skaven. I was living there when the…order for the Legions to abandon Hammerfell was given.” A look of immense sadness passed over Khemor’s face. “Many of the Legion, mostly Nords and native sons of Hammerfell, refused to abandon Skaven, and deserted to continue protecting us. It was futile, of course. They were overrun and the Dominion occupied the city for two years.” He looked again at Calder and said quietly, “I am well-acquainted with the cruelties the Thalmor visit upon the populace of the places where they have control.”

While Khemir's social position and influence protected their household somewhat during the occupation, it was not easy, and Khemir's health never truly recovered. Before he died in 4E 187, he helped Khemor secure a position in the College of Whispers in Cyrodiil, despite neither of them being particularly inclined towards the Empire. In appreciation for his loyal service to and care of Khemir during the final, ailing years of his life, Khemir's family gave Khemor several of his former master's magical heirlooms before he left for his new life in Cyrodiil.

One of Khemir's grandnieces currently runs the family estate, and she and Khemor are on friendly terms and communicate somewhat regularly.

Life in River's Edge

(Portrait by @thana-topsy, full version here.)

With his command of languages, he was able to perfect his chosen sub-field of necromancy: spirit-calling and speaking with the dead. After all, what is the use of summoning the shade of a long-dead person to answer your questions if you won't be able to understand each other? This ability led to Khemor rising quickly through the ranks of the College of Whispers, and his calm and pleasant demeanor meant he was often chosen to lead delegations to advise the Elder Council or other political entities in Cyrodiil.

It was because of this role that in the year 4E 201, when word came to the leaders of the College of Whispers that the Synod and the Thalmor were scheming to gain influence with the College of Winterhold in Skyrim, Khemor was chosen to travel to the far, frozen north of the Empire and attempt to establish a line of communication Archmage Savos Aren.

Because of the unstable political situation in Skyrim, once he was through the Pale Pass Khemor changed his Legion escort for one comprised solely of Fighters Guild mercenaries. His entourage left Helgen for Riften on the 14th of Last Seed, 4E 201. Khemor noted the unusual number of Legion soldiers stationed at such a small outpost, but thought nothing of it.

When the escort arrived in Riften, they learned of Ulfric's capture and escape and hear the first rumors of dragons returning. However, it isn't until a dragon is sighted flying over Lake Honrich into the Jerall Mountains that Khemor takes the reports seriously. For safety, a larger group of travelers gathered in Riften to travel to Windhelm, leading to a significant delay of Khemor's itinerary. During this time, he composes what will end up being his last piece of correspondence to his superiors in the College of Whispers, detailing what he has heard about the return of the dragons to Skyrim before the ad-hoc caravan sets out for Kynesgrove…

[ms-ajt-whumps]

Handholding and Asthma

Genre: Whump, Fluff. CW/TW: Bullying, Asthma Attack

Fandom: The Adam Project Characters: Young!Adam, Y/n, Ray, Chuckie, Ellie

2332 words

Let me know if any tags of warnings should be added, I want to be sure everything I post is properly tagged.

@almost-gabrielle

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Adam would never admit this, but Ray did scare him a little bit. It wasn't that Ray was actually an effective bully, it was more that he had a couple inches on Adam and serious daddy issues. There was also the chance that Ray would accidentally hurt Adam, worse than he himself was truly capable of. Freak accidents could always occur.

It had started simply enough: Ray had been picking on Adam’s friend Y/n during lunch. Now, it wasn’t that Adam like-liked Y/n, because he really, truly, most definitely, 100%, probably didn’t, but he couldn’t stand by while Ray picked on her. So, he’d instigated. Ray had rounded on him and bolted, and so did Adam. They’d run through the lunchroom and the school, dodging teachers, the principal’s grabbing hand, and other students until eventually Adam (who felt that his lead in the race would save him from a serious ass-kicking) burst outside. He’d hesitated, looking left and right, breathing heavily but not badly, and hurried to one side. He had felt, with his advantageous lead and stable (so far) breathing, that he’d win. He had not. Adam fucking tripped and went sprawling. Ray had been on him in a second, yanking him to his feet and pinning Adam up against a wall, glaring at him. Adam's mouth went a mile a minute. Quips, jabs, one liners, some of them even pretty good. They had flowed out automatically, the easiest thing in the world for him. It wasn't until Adam had said something about Ray and Chuckie being too stupid to snark anything back that Ray had really reacted. 

“You turds are standing here like a couple of mute mimes, ventriloquist dummies with no puppetmaster. You really think I'm going to be scared of a couple of meat bags who can't even talk?” Or something like that. Adam couldn't really remember what it had been right now, as he was on his back on the ground, Ray's foot stomped down into his chest. 

“You think you're so funny, Reid.” Ray had sneered. He had grabbed Adam by the front of his shirt and jerked him forward and around, pushing him to the ground. “Well, we'll see how funny you are when, …when you've lost!” Ray had put his foot on Adam's chest triumphantly. Chuckie had offered up his hand for a high five, a lumbering and slow gesture, a stupid grin on his face, and Ray smacked it, smirking down at Adam.

“That's your best? Really?” Adam snarked back from the ground, to which Ray pressed his foot down harder. This was when it began. It, the pressure. Then It, the crushing feeling, the internal collapse of systems intended to keep you alive. Damn it, he’d been fine running, even. You'd think providing oxygen to a 98 pound twelve year old would be an easy task, but no, apparently not for Adam's lungs. He sucked in a thin, wheezy breath, looking up at Ray. Adam tried to glare but the fear was setting in. He did the only thing he knew how. “Step any harder on me and I'll have to petition your mom to stop being so fat. The weight was…” he gasps slightly as pain snaked through him, “transferred to you in bone density. Thank God not in fat density, or you'd be enormous.” 

Ray looked presently peeved at this, and moved to punch Adam in the face. Adam sucked in another wheezing breath. Chuckie stood stupidly alongside Ray.

“Leave him alone!” An indignant shout rung out across the lot. 

Ray's head swiveled to see who it was. The girl from lunch. The quiet one. He smirked. “Go home, you're not involved in this.” He pulled back from Adam, his foot still on his chest, baring his own chest to the girl. He was trying to look big and scary. Ray almost didn't even bother really looking at her, he figured she would be scared off pretty easily, but at the last second caught a glimpse of her expression. His eyes snapped up, a thin trail of dread trickling down him. He saw anger. Crystal clear, unfiltered fury. More than Ray had ever seen, even from his mom when he failed tests. She also looked calm, like she knew precisely how to… how to…

“Let him go,” Y/n said firmly. “Before I have to fuck you up, Ray.”

This made Chuckie nervous; he took an unconscious step backward. Ray looked to him desperately, betrayed. “Chuck,” he hissed.

Adam wheezed tightly again, hands twitching against the concrete, searching for something to hold onto.

She stalked towards the three, a menacing stature about her. Determination, Certainty. “Go, Ray. Before I have to bring you home in a bag.” Y/n was two feet from him when his nerve finally broke. He stepped off Adam, who gasped and coughed, and took a couple nervous steps backward. Y/n looked at him darkly, shooing him away with her hands. 

Ray really wanted to be tough, but he kind of believed her. Maybe she would bring him home in a bag. Maybe she was insane or something. He took another couple steps away, still hesitating, looking for an opening he could hurt her through. But there were none, so he ran. Chuckie ran with him of course, much more slowly. 

Y/n called, “You're a bitch, Ray! Everyone knows it!” Then she was on her knees, talking to Adam very gently. “What's wrong?”

He wheezed, hands grabbing at his chest. He looked briefly at her, the panic now evident in his brown eyes. 

“Asthma attack, Ok. Where's your inhaler?” Y/n said quickly, hands at the ready, hovering in the air over Adam. “You have it with you, right?” Her eyes flashed to his, suddenly nervous.

Adam nodded, coughing, and grappled with the front pocket of his jeans. Y/n pushed his hands away quickly–they fell uselessly to the ground–and wrestled the inhaler from his pocket. She pulled the cap off and tossed it aside, bringing the inhaler to Adam's mouth.

“Ready?” Y/n asked.

He couldn't respond, just coughing and wheezing. He reached for her and grabbed her arm tightly, pulling it towards himself. 

Y/n put the inhaler in his mouth and triggered it. “3… 2… 1…” she counted down for him, watching his face closely. Adam let his breath out in a burst of air. Y/n rested a light hand on his chest, keeping the inhaler near his face. “Good?” she asked quietly. 

He shook his head, weakly pulling her arm back towards him, brown eyes wide with anxiety and focused on the next dose of medicine. He winced as his lungs wracked with pain again. She put the inhaler back in his mouth and triggered it again. Y/n counted again, watching him closely. Adam relaxed slightly, closing his eyes as he held his breath. He let his breath out slowly, the correct way, and sighed. His eyes flickered open, looking at Y/n with a surprised, trusting expression. He didn't talk for a long minute, just laying tiredly on his back, staring at this girl in front of him. Adam dimly realized that he still held her wrist and awkwardly let go, hand falling to the ground.

Y/n asked, “Should you sit up?”

Adam nodded, tiredly trying to get himself up. Y/n helped quickly, pulling him up by the arms. Adam ended up slumped against her, which made Y/n blush slightly. She supported his weight though, figuring that he needed the contact. Adam still didn't say anything, just breathing slowly. Y/n grabbed his hand and pushed the inhaler into it, wrapping his fingers around it for him. “There you go,” she said softly, feeling awkwardly self-conscious about holding Adam like she was. That wasn’t something that people who were just classmates did.  

“Thanks,” Adam finally said. “Ray is a bitch.” He continued to just slump against her, trying to pretend that he would get up soon and that he wasn’t really liking being this close to her. He didn’t have a crush on her. 

She nodded, smiling. They sat there in the quiet for a long time. Adam toyed with his inhaler and glanced shyly up at her and away quickly again when their eyes meet. He breathed slowly. “What makes you brave enough to…” Adam asked quietly, his eyes tracking her face.

She shrugged, jostling Adam slightly, looking off into the distance as she considered the question. The way Adam was leaning on her reminded her of the one time when she was a child and had found a puppy with a hurt foot. She’d cradled him too, as a protector. “I just know how to scare him. He's not really that big.”

“Bigger than me,” Adam mumbled, still fiddling with his inhaler. 

“Everyone's bigger than you, Adam,” she teased, laughing. Y/n looked back to him, catching a smile on his face.

Adam was laughing too. He found he didn't mind when Y/n teased him. He pushed himself up, sitting alone now. 

“I'll have to teach you my tricks.” She smirked. 

Adam nodded quietly, triggering another puff off the inhaler into his mouth. 

“Do you usually have to do more than once?” Y/n asked curiously.

Adam held up a finger to show that he needed a second. Y/n waited patiently. He let out his breath slowly, then speaking. “For the worse ones.” 

“Oh. Okay.”

Quiet again. Adam looked shyly between the ground and Y/n, who pretended not to notice. She looked towards the playground. 

The awkwardness present wasn't only because these were two awkward middle schoolers, though that wasn't helping at all, …it was because Y/n had had a crush on Adam Reed for a little while now. Sure, he was scrawny and had asthma but who really cared? His jokes in class always made her want to cry laughing, and he seemed to not care about all the stupid stuff teachers were always trying to make kids care about. It was kind of like he knew what was important in life. Like he knew there was something bigger out there. He looked at her and her insides would do flips and turns and some shy part of her brain would urge ‘look away, look away right now!’ So she stared at the playground. Y/n could feel his gaze on her, and saw in her peripherals that he seemed just as nervous as her. He was looking at her and then away, then glancing back.

The most hopeful part of her brain whispered quietly, ‘What if he likes me too?’ But the protective part was quick to reprimand, ‘don't think like that, he probably doesn't.’ Y/n glanced quickly at him, their eyes met, and she looked away.

Adam looked away too, blushing. 

He wasn't sure why he was feeling so nervous all of a sudden, he'd never felt nervous around Y/n before. Usually she would just let him copy off her homework and would trade good snacks at lunch. It was chill. Maybe he was feeling weird ‘cause she'd saved him from Ray, not that Adam wouldn't have survived on his own, he would have been fine. Maybe it was because she had been so smart about his inhaler, or like… something about her not judging him, or… he glanced at her again, noting the pinkish color on her cheeks and ears.

‘Oh, dear god no, please no,’ some part of Adam’s mind pleaded. He glanced at her again. ‘Fuck. …That’s it, we’re fucked. We’re fucked for sure.’ He tried to shush his racing mind, and think like one coherent thought at least but before he knew it was going to happen his mouth said, “Wanna come over and see a movie?” This was punctuated by a mental ‘Fuck! No! What are you doing?!’ But it was too late, he’d said it. Now he was trapped. He stared hopelessly at Y/n, waiting for her to… crush his heart, maybe? Perhaps he was still too young  for that. Would she accept? She wasn’t even looking his way, what if she said no? Would he just die on the spot?

Y/n turned to him with an abashed smile and said, “Sure.” She was blushing. 

‘Dear god, no! You’ll get cooties or something, god, stop!’ “We could watch something at my house, I’m sure my mom could bring you home after,” Adam said, trying to play it super cool. His hands danced nervously around the plastic inhaler. 

She nodded. “That… that sounds good, I’ll bet my dad could pick me up too if needed.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked nervously at him, never wanting to look away but also thinking, ‘I need to blink, did I blink enough? Or too much? God, I’m the worst. This is terrible.’

“My mom should be here soon, we could…” He gestured to the pickup area of the parking lot.

“Yeah.”

-

Y/n and Adam were sitting on the sofa before the big screen, Alien playing. Ellie was at the kitchen table, trying desperately to comprehend her husband’s tax filing system. 

The tension was palpable. Y/n and Adam could basically feel electrical vibrations passing between the two of them. Neither were watching the movie.

“Do you like the… movie?” Adam asked softly, looking to Y/n.

“Yeah, I think so.” Y/n smiled, looking back at him. 

Adam glanced over his shoulder at his mom, then to Y/n. His whole brain was screaming not to, but he hesitantly placed his hand onto Y/n’s. His breath hitched nervously, as he waited for her to punch him in the face or scream in disgust, but… her fingers laced into his calmly. Adam glanced up at her, face beet red. She smiled, squeezing his hand in her own. 

Adam looked shyly back to the TV, a grin creeping onto his face. 

-Fin

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 8

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav snaps. Her determination to get out becomes stronger than ever and she decides to change her tactics when it comes to dealing with Raphael.

AN: This turned super horny, idk what to tell ya. Also, I found it really difficult to write Hope because she just acts and speaks in such a specific way that's really hard to capture.

TW: Mentions of Abuse

WARNING: NSFW

Tav sat up in the bed and looked at him. Raphael so blatantly admitting to what he had done had made something snap in her head. It was as she was finally resurfacing back to reality and back to the person she had been before Raphael had gotten his claws in her. For the first time since she got to the House of Hope, she saw him for what he was.

“I thought you said that your plan was to kill my friends and then me,” Tav said with a calmness that surprised even herself.

“And I am a man of my word,” Raphael said, still lying in bed. He was studying her face for a reaction. “I never specified when. I will one day take your soul, which is my property by right, and should your friends decide to pay us a visit I will kill them. Though I have removed any motivation they might have to come knocking on my door, for which you are very welcome, by the way.”

He ran his fingers over the metal cuffs around her wrists.

“So, you are not even trying to lure my friends here. You intend to keep me here…indefinitely...” Tav said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” he answered. “I made it clear from the beginning that you would never leave, did I not? Death would have been all to easy for such a fearless little thing like you. It has been much more fascinating to see you trying deal with all those wonderful conflicting feelings of yours.”

She could see it in his eyes and his widening smile that he was expecting a reaction from her by saying this. He wanted her to get angry, to cry, to be scared. Something in his eyes reminded her of her father. The way he would look at her after he had beat her or said something cruel to her to get a reaction out of her during her childhood. That gleeful anticipation as they waited for her to either explode or break.

She looked at him and was quiet for a moment. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears out of anger, but her expression remained unreadable.

Then a smile spread across her face, and she leaned forward to brush a hand over his hair. She kissed him sweetly on the lips and he froze.

She wished that she could bottle up the look of genuine confusion she saw on his face.

She did not say anything. She just laid back down on the bed beside him. She pulled his arm around herself and got comfortable.

Raphael had made a misstep in his eagerness to piss her off: he had admitted that it was not his plan to kill her anytime soon.

Tav was not going to let herself be a passive player in his little game anymore. She would play and she would win. Not by giving him the resistance that he seemed to be thriving on, but by giving him exactly what he wanted.

He had told her the first day they met that he liked when people put up a fight. She would not. She would shower him with affection, heed his every whim, be his adoring little mouse, and when she finally found that damn hammer, she would watch him burn, just as she had watched her father do all those years ago.

As always, he was gone when she woke up. She got dressed. Instead of searching for the least provocative piece of clothing she could find as she usually would have, she grabbed a rather revealing dress from the wardrobe.

It was a tight-fitting dress with a plunging neckline in a burnt orange color that complimented her red hair. There was a matching gold choker with yellow stones that she also put on.

It looked completely foreign on her who had mostly dressed in thick robes for the majority of her life. It felt more like a costume, she thought as she looked herself in the mirror. Then again, she was definitely playing a part with what she had planned, so perhaps it was fitting.

She left the boudoir. She reached the entrance to the main area where she usually ate her breakfast when she stopped in her tracks and her eyes widened.

With her back turned to Tav, she was looking out over the balcony: it was Hope.

Hope! How could she had forgotten Hope? Tav felt terrible but she had not as much as given a thought to the odd Dwarven woman she had met back when she had broken into Raphael’s home. Tav had even promised to free her, she remembered with a knot in her stomach.

It had been too risky to free her. She even remembered selfishly thinking to herself that it was not her problem before they left. What Raphael did in his privacy was not her business. Neither her nor her companions ever spoke about her after they had left.

How fitting that Tav herself should end up in the very same position as her. She really did deserve it in a way, she thought to herself. She completely understood why Hope had stayed away from her during her time there. She had every right to hate her.

“Hope…?” Tav called out softly.

The projection of Hope turned around and a wide cheery smile spread across her face.

“There you areee! And without my sister or his new one at your heels!” she said in a cheerful tone. “He has barely had time to torture me since you got here, you know? Maybe if he leaves me long enough, I’ll be in one piece for the first time in years!”

The sad and pitying look in Tav’s eyes strongly contrasted Hope’s cheerful demeanor.

“What is it? Are you hurt?” Hope asked, looking her up and down. “Hurt, but you still look like you are in one piece…Hm…Oh! Oh! Did he drown you? Suffocate you? Was it the Omuan dreamcatcher? Oh, he loves that one.”

“I’m fine, Hope…” Tav said quietly as she tried to hold back the ocean of emotions that was building up inside herself by seeing Hope again.

She could not even begin to imagine the things Hope had endured. Her heart had sunk to the floor. Who knows how long Hope had resisted Raphael’s persistence? And Tav had brushed her off back then instead of saving her while she still had a chance…

“Oooh, no one’s fine here for long,” Hope said with the same manic intensity. “He prods and pokes and slices and cuts and then he puts you back together to do it all over again!”

Tav took a deep breath. The guilt she was feeling was crushing her.

“I’m so sorry, Hope,” Tav managed to say. “For not saving you back then…”

Hope went quiet for a moment.

“And I’m sorry that you are here…” Hope said in a sad tone, though it quickly turned hopeful again. “But…your friends will come with the hammer and save you! Maybe they will smash my chains as well. Oh, please don’t leave me here after you kill him…”

Tav sighed. She almost did not have the heart to tell her.

“My friends can’t get to it right now…Raphael took it back,” Tav said in a defeated voice. “But I’m determined to find out where he is hiding it. When I do, I will free both of us.”

Hope's smile returned even bigger than before.

“This is great news!” Hope said. “It means it’s here. It will be, it has to be, it is! It’s hidden, but it’s here.”

Tav’s brow furrowed.

“How are you so sure?” she asked.

“It’s what he does…” Hope said, still smiling but with a sad tone in her voice again. “He dangles things right in front of your nose. Freedom, riches, everything you could ever want! Always so close that you can smell it and always just out of reach.”

The projection of Hope froze after they both heard a noise. A servant was walking down the corridor towards them.

“Oh! I have to go,” Hope whispered.

“No, wait—” Tav said, but Hope had already disappeared.

Tav was looking at the spot where she had just stood. If Hope was right, there was a chance that she could find the Orphic Hammer and escape on her own without the help of her friends, which would be ideal.

Her meeting with Hope reaffirmed her plan. Resisting him was not the way to go. Hope was the living example of that. Perhaps, there was a chance that he would even grow bored with her if she simply gave him what he wanted.

She would keep the peace. She would keep him happy and distracted for as long as it would take her to figure out how to escape and then she would strike.

She had been scouring the parts of the house that she could access without servants or debtors watching her for where Raphael might be hiding the hammer. There were a couple of options for where it could be that she knew of: the archive or the vault.

It was obviously not on display in the archive, but she knew that there were more to the archive than what met the eye. She had heard that more artifacts were hidden in the bowels of the house underneath the archive. How she would access it or even find the entrance, she was not sure, but perhaps Hope knew if she could find her again.

Then there was the vault. Her and Gale had tried to break into it back when they had broken into his house, but without any luck. The lock was heavily protected with magic, but if she could get to it without any debtors or servants watching, she might be able to crack it with enough time on her hands.

She had given up for the day, but at least she now had some leads as to where to look. She knew that it would not be long until Raphael arrived home again, so she sat down in the archive to read and prepare herself for her role as his adoring prisoner.

For once he sought out her and not the other way around. He entered the archive and smiled when he saw her. He was in human form. She looked up from her book and smiled back warmly, without showing as much as a trace of bitterness in her expression. She saw him narrow his eyes at that, but his smile did not falter.

It was clear that he was still waiting for a reaction. For her to either explode or break down crying. It was delicious to see him treading so carefully, because he was not sure what to do next. She was not following the script that he had so carefully planned out for her, and she could see that underneath his smile, there was a tinge of frustration over it.

“Evening,” Tav said breaking the silence.

He took a seat in the sofa opposite from where she was sitting.

“Good evening,” he said back, still studying her face for a reaction.

Tav’s smile widened as she noticed how he had decided to sit away from her. She closed the book she was reading and put it on the table before getting up from her seat. She walked over to where he was sitting at a leisurely pace. He sat in silence as his eyes followed her every step.

He then seemed to notice she was wearing much more revealing clothing than she usually did. His eyes were devouring her exposed skin for a moment before they settled back on her face.

She sat down right beside him on the sofa. She leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek that seemed as casual as if she had done it a hundred times before. His body tensed but he did not move away from her.

“How was your day?” she asked with a bright smile.

She could see that there was a bit of amusement to his smile now. It was clear that he was not quite sure what was happening, but he knew that she was up to something.

“Slightly tedious,” he answered casually. His eyes drifted down to her dress and lingered on her cleavage for a moment. “You look even lovelier than usual. The dress suits you…as does that charming smile of yours. You really should smile more, my dear.”

Tav’s eye twitched in annoyance at his last comment, but she quickly hid it. Though not quickly enough that Raphael did not notice it, and she could see the satisfaction in his smile at his comment managing to get a reaction from her, albeit a small one.  

“Thank you. That’s sweet of you to notice,” she said instead of the many things she wanted to say to that comment. “It’s difficult to smile when I miss you so much all the time.”

“Is that so?” he purred and snaked his arm around her waist to pull her closer.

She was not fooling him, and she could see it in his face, though that did not stop him from seeing how far he could push her in the little game they were playing.

“Mhm” she affirmed and leaned more against him.

“Hm,” he hummed and kissed the side of her head before murmuring into her ear: “Nothing ruins a good play quite like actors overplaying their parts, dear.”

She smiled and turned her head towards him. Her nose was almost touching his and she was looking directly into his brown eyes.

“You’re one to talk,” she said before kissing him.

He kissed her back and tightened his grip around her waist. He put his other arm under her leg and lifted her to sit on his lap.

He was in control again and Tav was not having it. She was done with simply letting him do what he wanted to her and be a passive participant like she always was with him.

She snaked her arm down between them and felt his hardening erection. He made a low groan in response and his tongue invaded her mouth. Both of his hands were around her, kneading her ass as she rubbed him through his pants. It did not take long before she could feel that he was fully hard.  

She tried to discreetly unbutton his pants while they were kissing, but one of his hands slid up her back and into her hair. He yanked her head back.

“What is it that you are trying to achieve with all of this?” he asked, looking into her eyes. Though his question had no doubt been meant to sound threatening, his tone and dilated pupils revealed just how aroused he was.

Tav smiled. Oh, she was having fun with this. It was immensely satisfying for her to finally see him a little rattled and confused. She traced the outline of his cock through his pants.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked.

Raphael growled in a way that sounded simultaneously aroused and frustrated, as she touched him. He yanked her head back further, so her neck was exposed to him. He left a kiss and a gentle bite just above the choker she was wearing, before letting go of her hair.

“Off,” he commanded. He gave her a firm but not painful slap on her ass and then gestured for her to get off his lap so they could go to the bedroom.

 

To her surprise he indulged her and let her take the lead, at least for the moment it seemed. He had always been on top of her, but now she was on top of him, kissing her way down his body. She heard his breathing become heavier and heavier the closer she came to the part of him that was aching for her.

The moment her kisses and bites down his stomach reached to just above his cock, she heard his breath hitch slightly at the sensation. She saw his cock twitch in anticipation. It was her first time seeing it so up close. Even in his human form it was impressive in both length and girth.

She teased him by leaving sloppy kisses and small licks up and down his shaft, all while keeping eye contact with him. She could see that the teasing was getting to him. His body was aching for her, and he seemed to be on the verge of losing control.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked impatiently, referring to her endless teasing. She could hear that he was getting impatient, but it was too delicious to have him in the palm of her hand like that for her to stop.

“Mhm,” she affirmed and ran her lips over his shaft, earning her a groan.

She felt his hand tangle in her hair. He was not taking control over her movements yet, but it was a clear warning that he would if she kept going.

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” she said.

She teased the head of his cock with her tongue. It made him instinctively tighten his grip on her hair and groan deeply.

“Is that so?” he said. “So is humility, I hear.”

With that he pushed her head down, signaling that he was done waiting. He inhaled sharply as she took him fully in her mouth. When she began moving her head up and down on her own, his grip on her hair loosened and he let her do it at her own pace.

It did not take long before she managed to push him over the edge. She dug her nails into his thighs as he came in her mouth. He held her hair in a grip that told her that he expected her to swallow. His seed was almost burning in her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow.

He was breathless. He loosened his grip and ran his fingers through her hair instead.

“Such a good little mouse,” he said condescendingly, almost as if to a pet, which somehow managed to both piss her off and turn her on at the same time. “Come here.”

He gestured for her to kiss him. As she did, she wondered exactly how far he would let her take her little game. She felt daring. She wondered, not for the first time, how it would be to sit on that smug face of his and shut him up.

She moved further up his chest, and he must have guessed her intentions, because he smirked and grabbed her. He pushed her backwards, so she landed on her back. He pinned her to the mattress and then he started kissing his way down her body, the same way she had done with him.

“Control freak,” she muttered under her breath. She received a bite on her stomach for that comment.

Raphael was twice the tease that she had been. When he finally reached her now dripping core, he started teasing her with his tongue in an excruciatingly slow pace. She bucked her hips against his mouth, which only made him grab around her thighs to hold her down.

“Tut-tut. Patience is a virtue, dearest,” he said repeating her own words.

“You’re—” she interrupted herself with a moan as Raphael lightly ran the tip of his tongue over her clit. “You’re hilarious…”

So much for staying in control and not being a passive participant. Raphael was being relentless with his teasing, to the point where she was becoming a moaning and dripping mess under him. It went on for a long time and it was pure torture.

“Perhaps I would be able to find a shred of sympathy for you, if you begged nicely,” he suddenly said. She could feel him smile against her inner thigh, as he kissed and nibbled at the skin there.

Tav had to remind herself of the role she was currently playing. She was supposed to indulge him in what he wanted instead of resisting.

“Please…” she said.

“Oh, come now, dear,” Raphael said and looked up at her with a look that was downright sinful. He inserted a single finger into her, making her grasp the sheets. “Surely you can do better than that.”

He curled his finger inside her.

“Please, Raphael,” she moaned. She almost cringed at how pathetic and desperate she sounded.

“Much better,” he said and spread her legs slightly more.

He transformed into his devil form without warning, making her jump slightly in surprise. She seemed a bit confused with why he would suddenly do so, until he lowered his head between her legs.

“Mind the horns…” he said before he started eating her out.

He had to hold her legs open, so that she would not instinctively close them and hurt herself on his horns because of the sensation she felt between her legs. She suddenly understood why she had changed into that form: his tongue was not only longer but it was also forked.

He was looking up at her through the whole thing. He was making a low rumbling noise in his chest that almost sounded like a deep purring sound as he hungrily ate her out. His long tongue was inside her, and it almost sent her over the edge immediately.

She came harder than she ever had before, and it took her by complete surprise. She was grasping the sheets and on the verge of screaming as her climax washed over her. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath as it passed. Her legs were shaking, and she could hear Raphael chuckle as he was looking at the state of her.

Fuck him for being able to make her feel like that, Tav thought.

He leaned over her and kissed her. His long tongue was almost in her throat, and she could taste herself on his tongue. It was passionate, hot, and intoxicating. When he let go of the kiss, his gaze went from her lips to her eyes.

She was looking directly into his burning orange eyes when he suddenly changed back into his human form. He kissed her again, but this time it felt sweeter and more loving. His hand was caressing her face gently.

He left sweet kisses down her jaw and neck before laying his head on her chest. An all too vulnerable gesture that made her freeze.

She was not quite sure how to react.

She put her hand on his head with the gentleness of someone daring to touch an animal that might bite them. When he did not move or make a snarky comment at the gesture, she started slowly massaging his scalp with her fingers.

He made a low rumbling noise that almost sounded like a purr. He fell asleep on her chest not long after. Tav could not sleep. His arm was around her waist and his head was resting over her heart as he began snoring softly. She looked down at him. This man who was bigger than her and who was snuggling up to her in a way that seemed completely out of character for someone like him.

There he was, the devil that rips people apart simply to put them back together and start all over again, being infuriatingly human and vulnerable in her arms.

He was doing it on purpose, the bastard, Tav thought. He knew that she was playing games with him and now he was doing the same to her just to assert control over the situation.

She would not be fooled by him again, but she would play along.

[heaven-is-in-your-arms-series]

Lilit Phra Lo

Lilit Phra Lo is one of the best known works of classical Thai literature.

Considered part of the "national literature" since 1916 and studied in schools since the 1930's.

In the 1970's the work faced criticism with accusations of it being feudal, decadent, indulgent, misogynistic and prurient.

But the literary establishment defended it and claimed it was a repository of great poetry and reflected Buddhist teachings on the working of karma.

Its exact authorship and the date it was written remain unknown with some claiming it was created as early as before the Ayutthaya era and others putting it as late as the early Rattanakosin era.

But the style and language clearly seem from the early Ayutthaya era with several words and phrases that are no longer in use.

Lilit Phra Lo was originally intended as a drama although it would have been recited by a single speaker rather than using a cast.

During the reign of Rama the 3rd, the Front Palace King, Mahask Phonlasep, adapted the story into a dance drama.

(information taken from Kings in Love: Lilit Phra Lo and Twelve Months, translated by Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit)

Plot

The city of Suang attacks the city of Song, killing the king although the city itself remained defended.

The son of the former king of Song takes the throne and has two daughters Phaeng and Phuean.

The king of Suang eventually dies and is succeeded by his son Phra Lo, the most beautiful man to have ever existed.

The princesses of Song hear about his famed attractiveness and desperately moon about, wanting to have him for themselves.

Eventually they enlist the help of a pair of maids who seek out the help of a shaman to lure Phra Lo to them with the aid of a love spell but everyone refuses until they find Phu Chao Saming Phrai, a powerful adept who is also some kind of were tiger.

He agrees to cast a spell which will draw Phra Lo to Song.

Phra Lo's mother hires adepts to try and counter the spell but to no avail.

Phra Lo leaves his mother and his wife to go and seek out the princesses.

He travels with an army but eventually sends them away, leaving only his two manservants.

He is wracked with guilt but unable to stop pursuing the princesses.

Impatient for his arrival, the princesses persuade the shaman to send a beautiful cockerel to lure Phra Lo to a garden.

The two maids and the two princesses arrive at the royal park of Song and the maids pair off with the manservants and the princesses go to Phra Lo (yes both of them!)

A lot of sex is had.

The king of Song is pretty pissed off at first but when he gets a glimpse of Phra Lo, he's like, fair enough girls, I see your point, he will be an excellent son in law!

But the widow of the former king of Song is not having it and she sends assassins to attack Phra Lo.

The princesses refuse to leave his side and so the three are all killed in a rain of arrows.

The king of Song is devastated, punishing the assassins and the widow with death.

The mother of the princesses goes mad with grief.

Phra Lo's mother is initially all for revenge but then decides there has been enough bloodshed and a reconciliation occurs.

Memorial Stupas to Phra Lo and the princesses are erected in both Song and Suang.

We don't find out what happened to Phra Lo's original wife but I assume she is not happy!

[lavenderstobins]

An (Allegedly) Easy Guide to my Kid AU Universes

I had the bright idea of making a short reference post for each of the various kids I've created across my Parenthood AUs. Then I worked out that I actually have six Stranger Things Parenthood AUs and I realised it would take forever to do a bunch of different posts, so here's a helpful reference to all the kids I mention in my fics and posts.

First up, of course, is Josieverse:

Not-so-secretly my favourite child. The parenthood AU I developed the most and the one I've spent the most time developing.

[The Josieverse series can be found here]

(The rest below the cut!)

Next up is what I affectionately refer to as "Canonverse".

As of today (26/03/24) only Teddy and Lizzie have been featured in a fic out of the six of them.

This is the universe I consider the closest to the canon up until the end of season 4, with some minor changes: namely, Eddie's alive (and trans). In this AU, Steddie and Ronance settle down and eventually decide to have kids after unofficially marrying. It's the least chaotic universe.

[This is their universe]

Damienverse is probably one of the more chaotic kid AUs.

I haven't written any fics for them yet, but my co-creator Percy and I have talked about them more over on my twitter.

It's centric on Damien, who is Robin and Nancy's son, born in 1986. It's a canon rewrite overall with a focus on Nancy as a trans woman and follows their lives through and after the Upside Down.

The One Night Stand AU, also referred to as the Accidental Pregnancy AU, just has the one kid:

This one is a no Upside Down AU where Nancy and Robin have a one night stand and lose contact. When they bump into one another again, Nancy learns that she has a son, Daniel. (Nancy's a trans woman in this one too. So is Stevie!)

The QPR Stobin AU also has just the one kid:

Evie is the biological daughter of Steve and Robin via IVF. They're platonic life partners with a kick-ass kid. Evie comes out as trans in her teens and her story revolves around her and Steve and Robin following it, with Steve and Robin figuring out how to be the best trans allies they can be for her.

Finally, my Kid with Powers AU is another chaotic one.

In this one, Robin has a daughter, Katherine, who shows signs of having powers. It's theorised that the exposure to the Upside Down the older teens went through affected them, though it's also plausible that it was the drugs Robin and Steve were drugged with underneath Starcourt.

Robin and Steve are aware that the remains of the lab are keeping tabs on them, but they slip up. Robin flees with her daughter, intending to take her to Dustin's mom, but is chased off the road. She manages to hide her in the boathouse before fleeing again to take the lab members' attention.

Holly Wheeler and her friends find Kat crying in the boathouse and sneak her home to the Wheeler basement. When Holly realises Kat has powers, she takes her to Wayne. Robin believes her daughter to be dead or kidnapped when she returns to find her missing.

Wayne raises Kat. When she reaches twelve, she uses her powers to track down her mother after learning El did the same. When she finds Robin and Steve again, she learns that they have another child: Steve's son Zach. Robin's overjoyed, unable to believe she's alive. Kat ends up living with them again and adjusting to this new dynamic between the four of them.

That's all of them -- that I can remember, anyway! Apparently, kid AUs have a habit of running away from me. They're just so fun.

Have questions? Ask me about any of my AUs whenever!

[Picrew by Nuggts! you can find it here]

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Not Rated Fics Masterlist (9)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 /

Created: February 2nd, 2024

Last Checked:-----

His Name on Her Lips-appleblossomgirl (ao3)  Summary: Written for Everlark Fic Exchange Springtime 2018 event for Prompt 98: Peeta is pining for Katniss, but is about to give up because he can’t figure out a way to get her to notice him and he is being pestered to marry a merchant. He also thinks Katniss is already with Gale. Somehow, he ends up following her or he is already in the woods when Katniss shows up. Katniss, believing she is alone, pleasures herself. When she is finished, she says Peeta’s name. Of course he realizes that he needs to pursue her.  Last Christmas-Andromedadoesntwrite (ao3)  Summary: Katniss Everdeen couldn’t care less about her family’s Christmas party but after the unexpected visit of an old friend, she learns to appreciate the Holidays. Miss Matchmaker-annieoakley1 (ao3)  Summary: Eleven-year-old Prim has decided that it’s time for her sister to get a love life. Stay With Me-Annieoakley1 (ao3)  Summary: Two lost souls meet in the afterlife. Still Burning-Autumnanox (ao3)  Summary: End of Mockingjay through Epilogue from Peeta's POV. Intended to explore Peeta's character, the trauma he endures throughout the series and his journey of healing. The hijacking forces Peeta to experience exactly what he told Katniss the night before their first Games he would rather die than do - let them change him, let them destroy his sense of self. This is the story of Peeta Mellark trying to find himself again after the war. Eventual Everlark - but not for many chapters, so please be patient! :) the consolation (prize)-Annieoakley1 (ao3)  Summary: Peeta talks with his mother for the first time since his return from the Victory Tour. Implied Peeta/Katniss. The Twelve Christmas Days of Peeta Mellark-Abagail_Snow (ao3)  Summary: Peeta Mellark loves Christmas before he even knows what Christmas is... vignettes of different Christmases in Peeta Mellark's life. The Voyage Home-burkygirl (ao3)  Summary: Hunger Games Victor Peeta Mellark is struggling with his new life after the Games when an unexpected encounter on the beach one morning changes everything. In-Panem AU. Time. Forest. Axe.-78bathsheba (ao3)  Summary: Cleaned up version of the tumblr ficlet inspired by noozealand's frantic tumblr ask: "I keep thinking about johanna alone post mj tELL ME SOMETHING HAPPY" (so I did)

The First Time Additional Scenes-Annieoakley1 (ao3) 

Summary: Various missing scenes or short oneshots from The First Time.