#i am a victim of my angelic nature

[theredumbrellatheory]

he's a vicpim 😔

yapping/og image below the cut

found this will graham version and got inspired

went looking for the text because i figured it'd be easier to composite with a png than anything else but—i found just the whole original image instead i guess—used the nasty nasty automated machine process (some ai wand tool) to edit out the weird distorted skinwalker lady and went from there -- enjoy (p)image lol

[meo-eiru]

*cracks knuckles* here I am again. this time with Micah as my victim

so at first,

you definitely should add some more story to him. so far, if I'm being honest, he feels a bit too plain to me. but oh boy, what a potential I see here!

alright lets begin

omg look at him! such a hypocrite! how smart it is, to put all blame on MC while being just as (actually even more) sinful. and he sure hides well; it's your fault, isn't it? oh you and your sinful mind.

buut despite him not really being my cup of tea, I still do like a good old concept of ugly insides, hidden behind a beautiful shell (if that's the vibe you were going for).

Micah seems so pure, so holy, almost like an angel (you played smart by adding a lot of white in his design) – but behind that pristine facade? he's ugly. and that shell eventually starts to crack, because no matter how pure he may seem, Micah is just as human as we are, and definitely not a good one. and what are we, if not a bunch of cruel, egotistical animals? and deep inside he's exactly that, sickeningly human. with that in mind the very first comic you did abt him is actually pretty hilarious to me. your desires? what about his desires, which are strong enough to ruin your whole life?

I kinda feel like he's also a little pathetic in his own way; if he can't make you fall for him, he will break you. isn't it like a very cowardly move? he wants you badly enough to use whatever method it may require to have you, but will never admit it.

but let's talk about that strange desire to destroy MC's purity. why? to make you just as dirty as he is? cute, but doesn't seem like a full explanation to me. he's a priest, right? and even despite those dark insides of his, I feel like Micah still kept at least some of the priest mindset. I mean, they're raised and taught with a very strict discipline. so I feel like deep down, he feels bad (not ashamed, but in a "how dare they" way) for his attraction to you, and punishes you for that attraction. it's not your fault, of course, but who cares? you managed to destroy his perfect, clean facade, which he was methodically building for his whole life with simply your existence. isn't that unfair? so now you must fall into the depths of hell with him.

I like how we can't justify him. Micah is perfectly aware of what he is doing. and of twisted nature of his feelings too, I think, yet still chooses to indulge in his desires, even if it hurts you, the person he was supposed to love and cherish. he makes me feel an absolute, poetic rage, and I love a character I can hate. (don't get me wrong, it meant to be a praise)

and I absolutely adore his design. also if I was on point with the idea you meant for him, that is wonderful too. if a character makes me feel something, I like that character. but girl, you really should add more details about him. because everything I've written here is, basically, just my own brainstorming and bare theories. Micah needs to have more meat on him for a full character analysis >_>

but anyway, I actually have a question.

what if MC wasn't in any way pure? what if they're a complete opposite of that word? count it on my love for hunchback of notre dame

unlike the nun MC, I suggest a MC who fully embraces their sins. like an evil succubus, they enjoy the joys of being tainted. they know what influence they have on their dear Father Micah, and isn't ashamed of that. I feel like that would make a pretty interesting story

(cough cough draw him blushing and moaning and my life is yours darling)

Another absolutely incredible ask I'll have a field day answering.

I do agree with him being a bit under developed at the moment. Micah was a bit unfortunate as in he was never meant to be an actual character. He was just a momentary creation who existed for me to study color theory. A beautiful man of flowers who didn't have an identity.

Then he joined the cast when I was busy with working on commissions and the 5k celebration comic so I didn't have the time to draw his introduction comic with the things I had planned for him, though I've been trying my best to explore him a bit more thru asks like this one. The fact that I don't want to spoil the stuff I'll draw in his comic is also holding me back a little.

I think Micah is evil, but not completely bad. A man who was born twisted, who was raised into goodness, and even with all the love he received never truly got rid of his inner darkness, but just once, just for one moment, I think he had good in his heart. And that is when he first saw you.

With all his twistedness, all his evilness, all his darkness, I think that love he felt for you was truly pure. Because in his eyes you appeared truly beautiful, like a pure lily.

But Micah isn't a pure man, neither does he want to be. So he prefers to pull you down to his level, so that you two can be sinful together. A truly impure way of feeling that pure and innocent love.

I have gotten asks about him with a more rowdy darling, one who isn't a nun or one who is more sinful. I've been really brainstorming about it but I don't think it would work. Not because I personally can't force the story into being like that but because I think it was just not meant to be like that.

You see I do come up with the characters, but I don't control their actions. If the character is unwilling I can't shape the story to my will. Because that story is their life and they control it. The best I can do is to try to fill the gaps I can.

I might prefer submissive yanderes, I might want Micah to have a more sinful darling instead but it wouldn't be Micah's story anymore. That's one of the reasons why he's so different from the rest of the boys. I'm not super into very dominant guys, I could probably count the ones I have with one hand, it wasn't my intention for Micah to be the way he is, but I don't think he could've been any other way.

Micah was just meant to be manipulative, a gaslighter, a dirty man who'll pull anything to push you below him.

I guess me looking at my stories from an actual novel or manga perspective also contributes to this. Father Micah exists to shine with a darling who he can soil.

Now the darling can maybe go against him in the future, she might rebel or give in to his sinful ways, but that's a different story.

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter ten: part one

“i won’t die for love

but ever since i met you,

you could have my heart

and i would break it for you.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: vibes are not good y’all — it’s a blizzard in this here hotel 🥶 angst, crying, descriptions of sadness/loneliness, valentino mention lol, alcohol abuse and drug usage, mentions of bruising and bite wound recovery, power dynamics

word count: 5.8k

author’s note: okay, i was really hoping to have this all completed today but between some family obligations and graduations i didn’t have all the time i wanted to wrap this up in one go. but i really couldn’t keep this to myself anymore — i am so desperate to share what i have ready for you. i am still hacking away at the rest but for now, please accept part one of this finale with my gratitude and love 🙏🏻💖 @hazelfoureyes & @sugoi-writes come and get it my darlings ❤️‍🔥

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The week that passed was long. Undoubtedly the way weeks in Hell were supposed to feel — grueling and bleak, devoid of joy. Hours passing like decades, leaving its casualties wrung out and aged.

Despite the rift only being between the two of you, it was felt by everyone in the hotel. Much to their misfortune, neither of you were spending hardly (if any) time in your rooms. No one knew exactly why, of course, but understood well enough to suffer in silence and bear the brunt for now. The weight of what transpired hanging in the air of whichever room either of you entered. 

Yours took the form of an icy draft, reminiscent of past winters that could only be felt again here in a manner such as this. Wandering the halls of the hotel, save for one, like a specter. Leaving sinners in your wake grateful once you had finally passed through; the natural heat of Hell returning in your absence to soothe their frostbite as if apologizing on your behalf.

And if your melancholy was that of a cold wind, Alastor’s was the storm that bore it. Blustering and wild in its unpredictability, an exposed nerve waiting for a catalyst. Always he was in the eye of it. Not even knowing himself which direction it may take — malice, apathy, vengeance — but claiming victims nonetheless, despite his efforts to maintain his air of refinement around the hotel. The hairline cracks in his guise couldn’t help but leak.

Even Niffty was proceeding with caution; not daring to climb the length of his body as she so often did without care. She had only made one attempt in the interim of the argument and had yet to fully recover from the murderous glare Alastor had threatened her with. His tense, bloody smile was still the first thing she saw when she closed her eyes at night. But she was warming up to it.

Husk was particularly displeased with the whole affair, having to deal with each of you as you took turns sulking at the bar in between bouts of sucking the life out of anyone you passed. Something had to be done about it. Not only for his whiskey supply, but he just also wished Alastor would mope somewhere else. And there was no telling which mood he would be in by the time he was ready to go back upstairs. Making it dangerous for anyone still roaming around in the late hours of the night. 

Asking Alastor about what was wrong was a dead end, and thankfully no one was naive enough to try. But you were still so despondent, nursing your drinks at one of the booths in a dark corner of the bar, that no one dared approach you yet. Though Angel was getting close. In fact, an idea was forming in his mind right now as he watched you sulking from his usual seat at the counter. 

“I can’t fuckin’ take much more’a this,” he grumbled lowly to Husker, frowning over his drink. “It’s startin’ to rub off on me! I’ve been infected.” His histrionic expression of woe only mildly overdone.

It really was wearing on him, as much as he tried not to let it. But between the atmosphere at the studio and now this… Angel could only be so resilient. Though he did his best to ensure it wasn’t bleeding into his work. Not an easy feat, especially when he thought back to that weird voicemail he got from Valentino about a week ago. 

Tell our little Sylvie I said ‘you’re welcome’ — God knows she really fucking needed it. Such a repressed thing… really wish I could have kept her longer.

The implication had actually made Angel lose sleep. Even knowing that Alastor had been with you, when it came to Val the possibilities were endless. And clearly whatever he instigated between you and Alastor had ended in disaster. Angel hadn’t relayed the message, of course. Nor had he given Valentino even a hint of what was going on at the hotel, much to his chagrin. He’d sooner face the Exorcists again than give Val the satisfaction, and it was fun being able to piss him off, whatever the consequence. Still…

“Have you tried talk—”

“Not a fuckin’ chance,” Husk said definitively, an unimpressed look on his face. “I ain’t gettin’ mixed up in this shit. The less I know about what’s going on between the two of ’em, the better.” He shuddered just at the thought.

Angel sighed, but understood Husk’s resistance to the idea as he obviously wasn’t prepared to try and speak to the Radio Demon about it himself. Getting a peak behind Alastor’s curtain was an intriguing, but ultimately deadly, risk — especially for the bartender. Meaning there was only one way out. 

He glanced back over his shoulder at you, taking in the distant look in your eyes as you absently played with the two small straws in your glass. Feeling resolved, Angel downed what was left of his drink and gave Husk a quick wish me luck before walking over. 

“All right, doll face, you’re comin’ with me. We’re overdue for a gab sesh,” Angel said, leaning over the table to grab your drink. His tone of voice was kind, though a little irked, and left no room for argument. “It’s uh… about that time anyway,” he added softly, offering a hand to help you out of the booth when you didn’t move.

That time… There was no need for him to say more; you knew Alastor was coming down here after you went up to your room for the night. Was it getting that late already? The bar didn’t have windows so it was impossible to tell how long you had been sitting there in the dark, counting only the number of drinks you consumed. Four wasn’t too bad. Yesterday it had been more. Maybe almost double. But it was hard to remember.

You took his hand and scooted yourself out of the corner, grateful to feel someone holding you steady again. It nearly brought you to tears in your drunken state, but you managed to blink them back and focused on the impending journey to the elevators. All your concentration going to your feet as your arm gripped his for support, which he didn’t falter in providing. Angel had plenty of experience in this, after all. You weren’t the first drunk he had helped home and you wouldn’t be the last.

A chill ran through you as you crossed the lobby. When you looked over your shoulder you could’ve sworn you saw a shadow flitting across the carpet… but it was gone as soon as you blinked.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Husk groaned as Alastor materialized at the stool he’d adopted at the bar counter — dead center, wouldn’t you know it. Muttering to himself about how Angel had just barely rid him of one problem only to be replaced with an even bigger one; turning to the shelf behind him to grab the whiskey he already knew the son-of-a-bitch wanted. 

“Quit your bitching and just give me the bottle,” Alastor grumbled, rubbing at his temples as Husk unceremoniously obeyed. Slamming it down in front of his keeper and earning a tight, unamused look in response. “Bastard…”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Husk scoffed as he set down an accompanying drinking glass. Amused by the display of decorum Alastor subjected himself to, as if he wasn’t about to drown himself in liquor for the fifth night in a row. 

It was starting to catch up to him, though Husk wouldn’t dream of letting him know. It was obvious if you looked at the Overlord long enough, which most people didn’t. And they were smart not to. 

Husk, however, had no choice other than to spend hours hanging around the otherwise empty bar waiting for Alastor to finish sinking his sorrows bottle after bottle. So finding the tells was inevitable. Dark circles under worn eyes, a few hairs out of place. Counterfeit smile reaching a level of mania the bartender would have thought impossible before this week. 

But that was none of his business.

Alastor ignored him then, pulling the cork out of the bottleneck before pouring into his glass and downing it with a single swallow. He repeated this two more times before deciding to pace himself.

It didn’t take passing you in the lobby to know you had been here. Your scent permeated the room, mingling with liquor and tobacco, smelling closer now to cyanide than your usual floral almond and cherry; surpassing the bitterness Alastor had ever assumed it could reach. He detested how much he enjoyed it, especially when it was hanging fresh in the air as it was now, though he didn’t know whether it was an outward or inner loathing. The aromatics of the bar helped cut through the ache. Made it tolerable. But…

“It smells awful in here,” Alastor sighed bitterly. Eyes faraway as he let his nose hover over the glass before taking another sip. 

If he said it out loud it could be true.

About as awful as you fuckin’ look, Husk thought to himself before casually responding, “Well this is a bar in Hell. None of ’em smell like roses.”

Alastor merely hummed in response; a disconnected sound. Most likely the last sound the bartender would manage to get out of the Overlord for the rest of the night. 

It wouldn’t be wise for Husk to let on that he knew exactly what Alastor meant by the smell, but he did agree. That was part of the reason he was getting to the end of his rope with the both of you. Although you kept to yourself, the scent you were emitting was harsh and it lingered. Husk was beginning to wonder if it had actually started seeping into the wallpaper.

As difficult as it was to stay neutral, especially since he could understand certain aspects of your plight, getting involved was simply too dangerous. He thought he had a good grasp on his keeper’s moods and behavior, but this was all new territory. Tread lightly.

And so, he reserved himself to suffering through your poisoned aroma and Alastor’s moods. Hoping to whatever benevolent entity that could hear his silent pleas that Angel Dust would manage a breakthrough.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You were sitting crossed-legged on Angel’s bed as he rummaged through his specially made walk-in closet. Doing your best to fight off the sleep that was beginning to weigh on your eyelids, but it was a test of will that you were rapidly losing. The temptation to lay down and nestle yourself into the comfortable pink pillows and duvet growing stronger with each passing second. 

Angel must have been able to tell when he finally emerged, turning on some music to a volume that was just loud enough you couldn’t dismiss it as background noise before revealing a joint from behind his back with a flourish.

“Ta-da! Those bitches really think they got the last of it, but they’ll never find my break in case of emergency stash,” he mused with pride, nearly jumping on the bed to wake you up. 

He wasted no time in lighting a match from a pack on his nightstand, igniting the paper and taking a couple hits until a sufficient burn was glowing in a thin line of red. At which point he passed it to you, exhaling with a turn of his head. So polite.

This was far from your first time, but it had been a while since you last done this with a friend. You opted for a long drag and held in the smoke, nearly sighing as you felt the drug kick in after a second. Welcoming the warm, floating feeling in your head with a lazy smile as you emptied your lungs.

Angel whistled, impressed. “Not even the tiniest cough! My kinda gal. We shoulda done this ages ago.”

You nodded your head, passing it back to him as you laid down; sinking into the plush pillows with a hum. He followed suit, taking another hit and blowing the smoke your way with a teasing look on his face. You couldn’t help but giggle, both from the high and Angel’s comforting presence. Time passed for a while this way, taking turns with the joint and listening to music. Little laughing fits when you made eye contact for too long or muttered Val’s hat. Cuddling with his darling little pet pig, Fat Nuggets.

But once you had taken the last drag there was a shift. He was staring at you, waiting with the most open and soft face. The question on it the one you could no longer avoid. So what happened?

It took all you had not to cry. In fact, you were amazed at the capacity of tears your body had rendered over the past week. How could there still be any more left to give? But there was. At this point you weren’t sure whether they were coming from a place of anger, shame, or heartbreak. When it came to Alastor, you found your emotions had chasms deeper than you ever conceived. And they were more oppressive the further you went.

“Valentino didn’t tell you anything?”

Angel shook his head and made a face, landing somewhere between exhaustion and exasperation. “Sort of. You know how those fuckers like to play their little games. He keeps waitin’ for me to say somethin’, but I prefer to watch him squirm.”

Though you worried for him and hoped some part of Alastor’s deal held up in his favor, starting there would be a good place to start; leading him through the whole affair at the penthouse that you were present for. Not missing the sad look in Angel’s eyes when you finally got around to Valentino licking your neck. 

When you began to tell him about what happened once you got back to the hotel his eyes went wide. The scandalized scoff and I can’t fucking believe you sparkle in his eyes made you blush before you both erupted in a cackle, a form of pride shining through storm clouds of melancholy. You knew he would have burning questions and answered them as they came up.

Is he big? Yes.

Rough? No, until he was. 

Maybe even just a tad over. There were still some decent bruises to show for it. On top of which, the bite was taking a little longer to heal than expected…

You were snapped back by Angel’s next question.

Was it good? …the best. In fact, had you ever experienced that in life you would’ve found yourself here immediately after.

The last one had you both squealing. But he could see the tears blurring your eyes afterward, holding your hands as you continued. From waking up in his bed that evening, what happened in it, all the way through the fight the following morning.

“Fuck,” he sighed, the empathy on his face threatening to make you break down all over again. “Would you have done it without the pheromones?” 

Your lips quivered a bit, and you let out a shaky breath as you fought to remain composed before answering with a nod. “But he wouldn’t have… and now…”

The sob that followed took you by force, fueled by the loneliness you’ve been losing battles to all week. Angel hushed you when you tried to apologize, holding your hands until you were done. He left you momentarily to get you tissues and returned in pajamas; a box and large t-shirt in hand.

You took them, going for the tissues first. Turning away to clean your face and blow your nose. It was not a bodily function you ever cared for, so of course it was something you still had to deal with in Hell. Afterward you undressed and put on the oversized shirt, immediately feeling much better by the time you rejoined Angel in your former positions.

“Keep goin’,” he said, shifting some pillows to get more comfortable. “We gotta get this off that sweet chest’a yours.”

“Are you sure…? I don’t wanna bum you out too much.” 

He waved his hand, and raised his eyebrows. The expectant look on his face practically shouting get on with it. You put a hand up in defeat and exhaled.

“I just… wish he would let me leave, you know? Even though I can’t imagine not being here with you and everyone else but… I can barely make it to the garden before I start to feel the tug.” Your hand went up to your throat as you swallowed. 

You hadn’t meant to, but you didn’t mention the chain during your recall of the fight. He would understand, you knew, but… you kept it to yourself. It was hard to reason why. All you knew was that for now, it wasn’t something you wanted anyone to know about.

“He’s got me trapped here and I swear it’s like I can feel him all the time even though we’ve been avoiding each other all week,” you bemoaned, squeezing your eyes shut to fight back another wave of tears. The look on Angel’s face told you all you needed to know when you opened them again. He knew. “Is it bad that I miss him? I’m… fucking mad at him too, but… I miss him more than I thought I would…”

It was a painful admission, but an honest one. 

Angel wiped a stray tear from your cheek before running his fingers through your hair. Sighing before he said, just above a whisper, “No. It’s not bad that you miss him. But you know it’s…,” he sighed again searching for the right words. An almost tired look on his face. “Guys like them… they think they can just treat us like toys. But we ain’t. Alastor might be pissed off now but it’s only a matter of time before he’ll want you for something. That’s how it works.”

He practically spat the word out, voice rising slightly with indignant fire. 

“I can’t say I know what he’s thinkin’ — no one understands that mind’a his. But he’s been… different since the fight. We all thought he was startin’ to come around! I think you’ve been a nice little distraction.”

The pinch to your cheek was a welcome dose of levity, and your chest bloomed with warmth at the sight of Angel’s mischievous face. Though his eyes were still a bit somber as his mouth relaxed into a soft smile.

“I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, as long as you know what you want and what you’re gettin’ into… No one here would think any less of you for it. There’s only so much you can do. I know.”

You let the words sink in as you wriggled closer to him, sighing a thank you into the comforting fluff of his chest as his arms wrapped around you. Not that you needed permission, but his blessing and understanding of your feelings carried a weight you weren’t sure he fully realized. The sun breaking through the clouds.

Angel played with your hair as the two of you changed topics, talking aimlessly about other things going on around the hotel that you had been too tired to notice. Gossiping and laughing until sleep finally crept up on you. For the first time in a week, your dreams had been light and kind. Dancing with static, familiar red eyes, and a radiant fanged smile.

Oblivious to the idea that was hatching in Angel’s mind as you fell asleep, the glint in his eye was wicked and determined. Overlords weren’t the only ones who knew how to play games.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Days of the week didn’t hold the same kind of power in Hell as they did on Earth. But for the first time in years Alastor found himself growing impatient for evening’s approach. Akin to an itch, there had been a persistent irritation running through him. Something he managed to push to his feet at first but was steadily crawling up, leaving pinpricks of restlessness it its wake.

The nervousness was finding outlets in peculiar ways. Mindlessly shaking his leg for unknowable amounts of time, snapping pencils as he tried to focus on work. Clothes strewn about his room like the vines that adorned the radio tower.

Weekends weren’t a concept that existed here, and even if they did, they would mean quite little to the Overlord as his work was never finished. Splitting time between his duties to the hotel and his radio segments kept him more than occupied. Well… when he wanted them too, at least. He had been letting the side down these past couple weeks. Following his flights of fancy was one of the lingering pieces of his humanity that refused to leave him even after all this time. In fact, it was a trait that found more enabling here than it ever had in life.

All of this to say, Alastor didn’t place significance in time or days of the week unless there was an event or some tiresome chore tied to it. 

Tonight was one of those times. 

Charlie and Vaggie had gathered the residents yesterday to announce that they had a surprise planned — a Friday night out, since the pair had missed it the last time due to their appointment in Heaven. Alastor had been listening from the banister a few floors up, watching as everyone reacted with relative enthusiasm. Except for you.

Had he not heard the words with his own ears, he’d have thought you’d been told you were attending a funeral. This hadn’t been the first time he’d eavesdropped on the daily activities gathering, but it was the first time he’d had his interest peaked. Not because he was concerned with you going out — you weren’t allowed that right now. And knew it.

Watching you squirm was something he’d never tire of. It was a subtle tell, which is why Alastor appreciated it. Just a touch of additional tension between your brows and a fiddling of fingers. That perpetual pout and concentrated look in your eyes were distracting enough to maintain focus, easily deterring others from picking up on your nervous fidgeting.

Still marinating in the bitterness of the week, it brought him a keen satisfaction seeing you struggle to think up an excuse as to why you couldn’t join them on their evening out. Would you blame it on him? Or put it upon yourself? 

“I hope you all have a great time! But I think I’ll hang back… I’d hate to be the sad drunk at the sex club.”

Is that what the establishment Consent was? 

If Alastor hadn’t already shortened your leash, he would have done it now. Not even realizing his claws had dug into the bannister until he felt the recoil when he tried to walk away. An irritated growl reverberating in his throat as the heat of his shortened temper fogged his mind. So he melted into shadow to retreat back to the privacy of his room to let off steam.

And so, Friday evening had plagued him ever since. The hotel now empty save for the two of you.

It was a thought that shouldn’t have riled him up the way it did. He was still rather cross with you for instigating that fight, after all. You had laid misery at his feet and he’d be remiss to not return the favor. It had been warranted.

The intention of isolating you from him was supposed to be your punishment, but had somehow become his as well. It was infuriating. Another example of how his plans of late continued to backfire and leave him scrambling to figure out a clean escape.

It hadn’t come to him as easily this time. Drowning his agitation in liquor, hours of pointless gardening in his sanctuary just to keep his hands busy. Listlessly sitting at the bench of his piano, staring at the keys with hesitant hands. Any music he did manage to play, while passionate, was acrid and only further soured his mood. The bitter notes mingling in the air with what was left of your scent. Mocking.

Exhausting.

He felt now very much the same as he had right after the battle with Heaven, recovering from the ghastly wound Adam had landed on him. Alone. Made aimless in recovery. Back to square one. 

Alastor’s antlers branched out at the memory, a snarl on his lips as he paced through trees and shrubbery. It was a low point he thought he’d never suffer again, yet here he was. A sulking menace, same as you.

Despite best efforts, he had combed over the fight more times than he could count these last few days. Which of his actions had mislead you to such a conclusion that the copulation had been nothing but a game? Is that the kind of man you took him for? His blood burned again at the very notion, eyes radiating with such a heat he couldn’t believe the grass in its wake hadn’t shriveled from it.

He had taken advantage of your offer, but his desire to have you was something he had already been struggling with. Was that not apparent in how hard he fought to maintain a gentle touch? At least until he couldn’t? Even if your docile face hadn’t told him how needed that was, it was something he could feel. And something he more than willing to indulge. He had always been a hunter.

But his hand had been forced that time, and that was something he couldn’t forgive. No matter your willingness to participate nor the pleasure he had felt in claiming your body. 

The second time…

That had been his decision. Though your laugh was the trigger. 

Alastor wasn’t lying when he said he thought you didn’t know how. Yet there it was, hiding in your chest, those sweet chords of mirth falling from your mouth with a nonchalance that was almost offensive. Your lips turned up in an equally rare display, eyes sparkling in his partially lit room as you sat in his bed, bundled up in his housecoat.

It haunted him now.

But in the moment, his mind had gone blank, so surprised by the honest show of emotion from you. He himself was prone to a more orchestrated laugh, so he knew. It had been real. You had laughed for him. Let him burrow just a little further into your soul that you kept so guarded, despite the fact that he owned it.

You were the goldfish enticing him behind your glass bowl as if he were a cat that was afraid to get wet. 

He wasn’t.

Honestly, he hadn’t planned to bed you again so soon. In fact, he had felt rather sated from the exploits of the afternoon, despite his reservations for how it came about; more than content to let you sleep while he read his book. Knowing you’d eventually be waking up from the pain of his bite, he kept you close. Glancing over every now and then between passages to look at your sleeping face.

Even in sleep those downturned lips of yours taunted him. He had even touched them. The plush softness under his thumb a sensation he didn’t think he’d enjoy as much as he did with a clear head. He watched as the knot in your brow melted away, the swell in his chest giving him little reason not to do it again. So he did. You looked so peaceful it almost made him want to join you, but he wasn’t ready to entertain that just yet. Eventually rewarded for his abstinence with being able to watch you come back to life, petulance and all. 

And then you laughed. 

Laughter was something he heard all the time around this fatuous hotel. And he had certainly heard more than his fair share of cackles. None of which had moved him. Well… 

Getting Husker to laugh for the first time was an accomplishment. Those were still hard to come by, despite the amount of time they’ve known each other.

But that had been a game Alastor was actively playing. He had never set out to make you laugh (even when he said he was). Being the spoilsport — childish but true — you were, you were too much fun to tease to put an effort into making you laugh.  

What a golden little sound it was; lighthearted but just incredulous enough to make his cock twitch. So… no. It hadn’t been the pheromones the second time.

He wanted that. He… enjoyed that. 

He still wanted that, though he didn’t fully understand why. You just seemed to… set something off in him. A difficult thing to articulate, as he hadn’t ever really felt something like it before. Not this acutely.

Possessiveness, sure. Alastor wasn’t ashamed to admit to that. Was it so wrong to want to hold tightly to what was so hard-earned? He had broken his back to gain the reputation he had, and would never regret the choices made to get here. Save for one. But that was beside the point. For now.

What he felt for you was different, again, just in a way he was unsure of. Not love… he wasn’t a boy. It was much too soon for a word like that. But there was certainly a longing… a fondness. 

It had been your scent that intrigued him at first. He had made his peace with that. Enjoyed his little games in testing how your mood would change it, which aided in his desire to wipe that frown off your face. A flash of how you looked laying beneath him came to the front of his mind then, and Alastor gave his head a harsh jerk to vanish it. Though it didn’t help clear the phantom echos of your cries and moans now ringing in his ears.

You had surrendered to him so completely, given him your trust so fully that afternoon that you even endured that ferocious bite with nothing but a scream into the pillows. Letting him claim you in the way he needed to in that moment was no small feat. But you did. He didn’t whisper apologies on a whim. You had earned it.

Irritation was building up in him again, a growl rumbling in his chest as his jaw tightened and antlers creaked with growth. But he persevered, continuing down his train of thought as his legs kept up their restless strides. It was the closest he had felt to something akin to clarity all week.

While he had definitely enjoyed fucking you, there was more to it than that. He wouldn’t have given himself to you in the first place if you hadn’t appealed to him in other ways leading up to it.

Rigidity, diligence, sullenness. Pride, even. 

Despite the more irksome traits, one thing he could always count on was that you would complete the tasks given to you well. A hard thing to come by in this godforsaken place.

But there was a fierceness hiding underneath that you refused to let loose, unless of course you were giving him attitude. That, in particular, drove him rather mad but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it. He had grown rather accustomed to navigating you in such a short span of time. It wasn’t lost on him that you had done the same.

You had shown him quite a few times how willing you were to accept even the harsher side of his moods. That evening in his room when Angel had told him about Valentino was a prime example. You had been absolutely terrified — something he was able to see on your face and smell — yet you still showed up the following morning. Impressing him, in a way, with the gall you had to actually enter his suite without permission. He would have chuckled at the memory if he wasn’t on the verge of punching something.

That morning had been the first time he took notice of how you went about cleaning his room, taking extra care with how you made his bed that he hardly ever slept in. So much wasted effort for the both of you, but Alastor didn’t regret it. Even though that bed had become the bane of his existence, mocking him any time he was in the room.

Why did you care so much? 

Irritation turned to anger at the thought, meaning he was on the right track. You were asking him the wrong questions the morning you fought, but you had been justified on some fronts. He had done nothing but push your buttons since bringing you here. Made you do pointless things just to see if you would and test how long he could get away with it before you snapped; purposeful choices made so that he could in turn punish you for being disobedient.

Not that his desire to punish you was your fault. It wasn’t. And if he was being honest, you hadn’t presented him many opportunities to do so anyway. Diligence.

He wanted to move past it, but he was still so twisted up about how everything happened with the battle against Adam and the Exorcists a few weeks ago. To the point where sometimes he wished Adam actually had taken him out. To be nothing but a discorporated soul clinging to life in some inanimate object, indulging in the peace of such an existence. No more fighting, no more posturing, no more leash. 

But he retreated before Adam could finish the job. His instinct to survive persevering once again. No… It was his ego, not his instinct, that had made that choice. Though if it hadn’t well… He wouldn’t have been able to go to Rosie’s that fated afternoon, would he? You were a burden he hadn’t wanted to undertake and had no choice but to. And yet you fit yourself into his routine as if you’d been tending to him for decades.

Why did you care so much?

Could you tell that he was struggling in the never-ending war against his own vanity? That he was dejected from losing a fight in what seemed like near self-sacrifice from the outside? Some part of you must have. Why else would you let him bully you, only to turn around and address his needs with a consistency that alarmed him. Let him prod and hold and touch you at his whim, much like the microphone that never left his side. 

Another loss he hadn’t recovered from. Its splintered form now buried at the base of a tree in his secondary room. The shame of seeing it lying around his suite or the radio tower while he failed to mend it too much to bear. A contemptuous symbol of who he was and what he had been reduced to.

Exhausting…

He hadn’t even noticed that he was walking to your room before he was standing in front of the door. Alastor would be lying if he said he thought you would be the one to come to him.

You always took the wrong things to heart.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

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[krakensdottir]

Also something really important I want to point out about Aziraphale's religious trauma.

It's often framed as him being directly abused by Heaven, generally emotionally. And while I don't doubt he's been belittled at points - probably not by Gabriel, the iconic exemplar of the Toxic Positivity boss, but we know how Michael and Uriel etc. can be - it also seems like he's received quite a lot of praise and has generally managed to pull off the appearance of being A Good Angel, or at least a satisfactory one. I don't think, and this is controversial, but I don't think Heaven was usually overtly hard on him.

Because that's not how this kind of cult mentality usually operates. Instead, it teaches you to abuse yourself. Your overseers don't have to directly hurt or insult you if you're so ingrained with fear of failure by the culture you were brought up in that you constantly question yourself as not good enough.

It's not as... satisfying, I guess? As an external abuser being the main issue. But it's a lot more real. At least to me, because I suffered so much anxiety over being 'good' when I was a kid, and it wasn't from direct abuse. It was absorbed from the culture I was surrounded by. I picked it up by osmosis from society at large, and it tormented me. I worried, I doubted, there was a time I literally feared going to Hell. And I wasn't raised strongly religious. My mother certainly treated me as a Good Kid, and never gave even the suggestion that I wasn't. But I felt that way anyway. And it tore me apart. Because internalizing that shit makes it so much harder to fight.

And to be clear at this point, I am not saying Heaven isn't abusive. I just think the nature of its abuse is more subtle and insidious than it's often given credit for. And - this is even harder to accept, but it's true, and it's important - it's not just abusive to Az. All the angels are victims of it. Yes, even Gabriel. The moment he, one of the most powerful forces in Heaven, steps out of line, we see that no one is exempt. Never even mind Muriel, who is literally on the lowest rung of the Heavenly ladder and has probably never been told they're worth anything beyond being, you know, an angel, so at least you're better than humans and demons.

It's a contrast with Crowley, who has long since accepted most (not all, there are definitely some deep issues remaining, but they're nothing like Aziraphale's) of his internal doubts and struggles. His fears are almost entirely external. He doesn't beat himself up if he fucks up. He doesn't have to. There are people happy to beat him up for him. So when things go really bad for him, his instinct is to run. To get out of the way of harm as much as possible.

The fact that Aziraphale is harder on himself than anyone else could be is a vital part of his character. He self-punishes. He self-criticizes. He feels awful every time he breaks the rules in the slightest, even though he isn't usually caught at it. Crowley can find some safety in solitude if he keeps his wits sharp and his head down. Aziraphale can't, because he carries Heaven's conditioning with him at all times. He doesn't need oversight, it doesn't take external threats to keep him in line. You don't need direct threats when literally everyone in your celestial workplace has seen firsthand the consequences of rebellion.

I don't know if I'm making sense here. Again, this is informed by personal experience and I can't claim to be unbiased. But I see so much internalization with Aziraphale. He literally can't even accept praise without being nervous as hell, and I don't think it's fear of punishment or ridicule that's his primary motivation. He simply cannot ever be good enough for himself.

That's how they get you.

Anyway, I think it's why his reaction to disaster is the opposite to Crowley's, why he feels he has to turn and face it and somehow avert the horror (or, alternatively, find some way to reconcile it in his head and accept it - because let's be real, that's often what happens) rather than get himself away. He's less afraid of failing his superiors than he is of failing himself. And God, who is, objectively, the biggest abuser in the entire story.

[vinomino]

Be Vulnerable Part 3 - Angel’s Trumpet

Contents: nsfw mdni 18+, arranged marriage au, samurai au, heavy angst, murder/violence, description of injury, blood, implication of suicide, comfort, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, open ending, implied major character death

WC: 7.4k

When the trumpets blow, it will usher a time of horror and judgment upon the earth that will be unmatched by any other time in human history— the Angel’s Trumpets. Its heavenly intoxicating scent permeates the air– lily, jasmine, hyacinth, gardenia, citrus, lemon, mint, and musk, beloved by wildlife. Some consider it to be the most poisonous of all tropical plants, a small amount will begin an agonizing painful death. Angelic flowers while the leaves taste dreadful— how can one being be opposites? The roots, leaves, flowers, and seeds will paralyze and convulse its victim, the deadly beautiful allure. 

It would take an idiot to not be able to connect the dots that you were the missing Lady from Bofurin. For the past few days, Togame’s been surveying you. He’s able to tell that you were a high-born lady; the way etiquette was second nature to you. The way you bow, pronounce your words, and even eat, he knew someone was bound to be looking for you. Then Shishitoren received a letter from Bofurin requesting an audience to help aid in a missing person search.

He shifts in the seat beside your bed, you must have cried yourself to sleep. Your cheeks are still wet, he takes the back of his hand away, getting up he burns a stick of incense in the corner of the room to help you sleep. Togame cards his fingers through his black locks. Lettint out a sigh, he glances over his shoulder at you sleeping before closing the doors behind him. 

Togame enters the Shishitoren Headquarters’s meeting hall. Lord Commanders Umemiya and Tomiyama were sitting across from each other. Lord General Militants Tsubaki and Hiragi were on Bofurin’s side and some other men he didn’t recognize. Toagme waves at Sakura as he walks in, and the young boy nods his head at him. Shishitoren clansman Sako and Inugami were on the Shishitoren side. He takes a seat next to his own Lord Commander.  

“I apologize for the short notice, but we have reason to believe the Lady we are looking for has crossed into your territory. Bofurin requests the help of Shishitoren in our search.” Umemiya requests. 

“Sure Ume! We’re friends now!” Tomiyama beams and kicks his legs out.

“Wait a moment…” Togame interrupts, raising his hand to silence everyone. He places his hand on Tomiyama’s shoulder, “Choji.” Tomiyama can sense that Togame is asking to leave this to him so he nods. Every person present waits for what he is about to say. 

“The missing Lady is at my residence.” 

“Really? That’s great, we’ll send a carriage over to–” Umemiya waves some of the Bofurin members over. 

“Now…I didn’t say I would send her back.” 

“Hey, what the hell are you saying?!” A platinum-haired man scowls at him. 

“I don’t believe it should be up to you.” Togame runs a finger on the rim of the glass of water on the table. 

“She’s my wife–” Kaji was about to jump over the table at him, but Umemiya silenced him. 

“Can you explain yourself?” The Bofurin Leader squints his blue eyes at Togame. 

“When I asked her if she ran away, she froze up, unable to answer. I barely managed her to calm down.” Togame taps a finger on his chin when he thinks back to you. 

“You asshole! Don’t tell such lies! You're holding her hostage!” Hiragi has to hold Kaji back. 

“How is she doing?” Sakura approaches the table. 

“She was sleeping when I last saw her–” 

“Enough of this nonsense!” Kaji shouts.  

Togame remembers your bleak expression. “If I hadn’t stopped her, she was going to jump right off the bridge. It makes me wonder what pushed her to such an edge.” Everyone stops and stares at Togame. “I’ll ask her if she wants to go back and if she doesn’t…I am not going to force her.” With that, he gets up and leaves. Nobody held him back. 

“Togame, wait.” Sakura goes after him. 

“Hmm? What is it Sakura?” 

“Is she…” The duo-toned boy struggles to find the next words. 

“Sakura, why don’t you accompany me back to see her.” Togame ushers him along with him.

“Miss, are you up?”

One of the maids knocks on the door, awakening you. Sitting up you rub your eyelids, and the faint smell of lavender drifts throughout the room and fills your nose. “Yes, I’m awake now…” 

They get you ready and lead you to the dining room. Stepping inside you see Sakura along with Togame. “Sakura? What’re you doing here…” Did he come to take you back? You fist at your kimono.

“Come take a seat, you must be hungry, we’ll talk as we eat.” Togame spoke.

You are chewing as you stare at the two men. They seem close, the way Togame was teasing Sakura. They notice you looking. Togame clears his throat, “Do you want to go back to Bofurin?” 

You don’t respond, anxiously fiddling with the edge of your clothes. It’s not that you didn’t want to return to Bofurin, you just didn’t want to see those awful people. Kaji…you wonder what he’s up to now. 

“We aren’t going to force you back if you don't want to,” Sakura assures you and Togame nods his head. 

Silence as you stare down at your hands.

“Take your time.” Togame’s voice snaps you back to reality. 

“I’ll need to go back and talk with Suo and Nirei.” Sakura bids himself off. You watch him disappear down the hall.

“There’s a festival tonight, want to go with me?” Togame pats your head, chuckling at the way your eyes light up. 

The district was bustling, lights were strung up illuminating the area in a warm glow. They bang the drums loudly as people rejoice in the streets. You haven’t been to a festival in so long and never one this big. Shishitoren was known for its festivals. The ladies had dressed you in a black yukata with orange flowers sewn on it, and you wore the same geta sandals as Togame.

“Here, have this.” Togame hands you a skewer. 

“Oh. Thank you.” You accept it and bite off some of the chicken. 

“It’s good right?” He smirks as you nod. 

Vendors lined the sidewalks, selling things from food to toys. “Pretty miss! Pretty miss! Come look over here!” An old man beckons you to his stall selling a variety of kanzashi*. Togame notices you looking at a particular hairpin on display.

“Do you want it?” He asks.

“No– it’s alright!” You don’t want him to keep spending on you so you walk over to the next stall.

“Sir, I’d like to buy this one.” He hands the merchandiser the money and takes the one you were eyeing, placing it into his pocket. 

Returning to Togame’s estate, “Thank you, that was a lot of fun.” You smile at him. 

Togame pauses for a second, “I have something for you. Stay still.”

You’re confused, but you oblige, standing still. He pulls the hana-kanzashi* out, the silk carefully crafted to form a sakura flower– the flower of April. He moves closer towards you, gently tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear and then carefully pinning the hairpin into place. He steps back to admire his handiwork before turning on his heel and leaving you standing in bewilderment. Togame hopes you don’t notice that his ears are red. A soft smile is on his lips as he walks, if you show even the slightest hesitation on going back to your husband, he would be willing to start a war. 

Taking the hairpin out, you hold the silk jewelry in your fingers. It reminded you of the two colored boy. Why would he do such a thing? 

You slide open the doors to the room you’ve been using. It feels colder than usual, the window is left wide open. Perhaps the servants wanted to air out the room. Shutting the doors behind you place the hairpin Togame gifted you onto a table before a pair of arms wrap themselves around you. You’re about to scream, but hey place a hand over your mouth to silence you. 

“It’s me, it’s me.” A voice you haven’t heard in a while, Ren. “It’s me, princess, calm down.” He hushes you, then he takes his hand off your mouth.

Spinning around, you come face to face with your husband. “Ren– what, what are you doing here?” You whisper. His dark tired eyes try to take in your face, to burn it into his memory. 

“It’s– it’s all my fault” he chokes out. “I should’ve paid more attention– I should’ve cared more–” dropping to his knees to clasp your hands between his. “I–I’m sorry–please don’t leave me…please don’t abandon me.” He tremors from his airways clenching up, his lips curve downward from the harsh swallow. His palms are sweaty, “Please— I’ll do better–” His voice finally gives with a crack, emotions pouring out of him, seeping into you. A hellish poison. This is his punishment, his judgment, his apocalypse. Repent all his wrongdoings. He parts his mouth to speak, but the ball in his throat clogs it up, like a dam suppressing the tides. Your husband’s miserable appearance. 

“Ren–” A knock. 

“I’m sorry–” Ren starts again, but you shove his head into you to silence him.

“Miss, the bath is ready.” A maid announces and you can hear her going to open the door. 

“I’ll be out right now! Give me a moment!” You fumble out.

Looking down, he’s clinging onto you, cheeks red, and not wanting you to leave. Tilting his chin up, you bend your back, capturing his lips in a rushed parting kiss. His arms try to keep you close, afraid you’ll disappear again. Slipping out of his grasp, you rush out of the room, glancing back at him one last time. Leaving him on his knees. 

“I’m tired from the outing, can we make this quick?” The maid nods her head.

Finally dressed, you head back, peeking your head in to see if Ren is still there. But you’re met with an empty room. A note folded up and placed under the hairpin.

Tomorrow night I’ll be waiting for you. 

Burning the paper over the candle and letting it turn into a pile of ash in the incense tray, the hairpin is in your other hand. The suffocation, as if you were gasping for breath under deep water. The desperate yet fragile tenacity. Such dissipated when you ran away, the weight vanishing, like a baby’s first breath. They say freedom is to die for. 

You stood up and closed the window, shutting the breeze out. The eerie night continues as you sleep. The muddling haze that clouds your mind even in the deepest slumber. Restless during the day, the servants pick up on it. The slightest memory of that house was enough to make you spiral, the warm sun does little to soothe you. A tiny droplet of blood rises from the torn skin on the tip of your index finger from biting your nails. Forming a deep metallic iron taste. You haven’t seen Togame all day, they say he’s busy. All alone in your thoughts with the question; do I want to go back? 

At dinner, you finally see Togame, observing him taking a sip from his cup. His green hues find yours, “What is it?” 

“Do you have time…to play another round of Go with me?”

And so, you sit across from him, the game board separating the seats. You play the same color again– white. The game is played— desiring, seducing, and falling in silence. Togame’s gauging your intentions through his lashes, the lack of hesitation you continue with knowing that you were bound to lose again. He places a black stone down on the grid, you don’t reach for yours.

Swallowing the mouthful of saliva down, “Togame, do you have feelings for me?” You ask.

The black-haired man hums and leans back, “Will my answer affect your decision, angel?” 

Peering out the window behind him, the sun is setting, “Can we keep in touch? Can I write to you?” You regard Togame with the kindness he has shown you, however, your mistake was opening your heart wide enough for Kaji Ren to wedge himself in it. 

“Where should I send the letters?” 

“To the Kaji estate.” 

He doesn’t move, continuing to stare at the unfinished Go board, not looking up until you’ve left the room. It feels like he’s lost. Rushing down the halls to the side door you left out of to go to the festival, you crack it open, and you spot another man in an orange– Shishitoren haori.

“You’re heading to Kaji?” Answering him with a nod, “I’ll lead you to him.” The man ushers you along.

You follow him down the streets until you see the bridge you crossed. In the distance, you can make out a few figures and some carriages. 

“She’ll come.” Tsubaki places a hand on Kotoha’s shoulder, sensing the younger woman’s nervousness. She nods. 

“Hey, look, it’s Sako.” Ren whips his head towards Shishitoren’s territory at Hiragi’s sentence. His chest aches in anticipation of Sako. 

Walking behind the male, you come closer to the sound of water, it makes you clench your fists. He abruptly stops directly in the middle and you peek around him, seeing Kaji standing a few feet away, Kaji starts approaching you. Rushing out behind the man who guided you— you run straight to Kotoha, going right past your husband. She engulfs you in her arms and a warm sensation blossoms inside you. Inhaling her scent, she tightens her hold around you. The brunette pulls you into her carriage. 

The men have to stifle their laughs as Ren stands there with his arms out, as he anticipated to embrace you. He inhaled, dropping his arms to his sides, “Thank you for guiding her Sako.” 

“Yeah–pfft, it’s fine.” Sako covers his mouth, to not burst out laughing at his old friend. “Good luck Kaji.”

With that, Bofurin takes their leave, Ren sits on top of his steed, a tap on his shoulder, and Kasumi hands him a note: Don’t look so gloomy :) 

He clicks his tongue, crumples the paper, and throws it making Kasumi chuckle. Kaji shoots a glare at Enomoto who giggles under his breath. He unwraps a piece of candy and tosses it into his mouth, crunching down on the sugary sweet. 

“She fell asleep?” Kotoha raises her head to Tsubaki, away from you sleeping on her lap, “Yeah, she must be exhausted.” They both smile as you softly snore. 

It feels vaguely uncomfortable. Your eyes feel like hot coals cooling in water as you glance around the room, the aroma of medicine. The wet cloth on your forehead no longer feels refreshing. A hand reaches to soak it again, Kotoha sees you’ve awoken, “How are you feeling?” She asks.

You release a groan, too tired to articulate words. She wipes your face down, the water lessening the heat pooling in your head, and you fall asleep again after she feeds you a pill.

Awaking after a few hours, the fever has quelled down, and you sit up when the door opens. Kotoha enters and a white-haired man follows behind her.

“Oh, you’re up! Do you feel better?!” He booms, startling you.

Kotoha elbows him, “You’re scaring her.” He makes a sad face at her comment.  

The scar above his eyebrow— Bofurin’s Lord Commander, Umemiya Hajime. You try to shuffle out of bed to properly greet him but Kotoha pushes you back down.

“No, no there’s no need to be so formal!” Umemiya shakes his head, stepping closer to the bedside, he reaches out and pats your head.

He grins, “If anything troubles you again, depend on your big brothers.”  

“Yes, even if it’s the Lord General,” Kotoha adds on. 

Tightly clenching your hands, you nod, afraid if you were to speak you’d start crying. 

Since they both left, you’ve been lying on your side staring at the wall. Bored, you get up and head to the door, wanting to take a walk. Opening the door, you crash into something, covering your nose, you look up to see who it is. Ren stands there for a split second before picking you up.

“R-Ren?!” You squeak out. He wordlessly sits you back on the bed, it dips under your weight.

“You still have a light fever.” Is he scolding you? You want to punch him. He sets a book on the nightstand before sitting on the edge beside you. “I’m sorry.” 

Glancing at your feet awkwardly, “Why?” 

“I’m the head of the house, yet I didn’t know what was happening in it. I swore to respect, console, help, and love you until my death…I made those vows, yet I didn’t do anything to honor them. If you don’t want to forgive me I can accept that– how can I even ask for forgiveness…” he scoffs at himself, “You can go home…if you desire to.” Ren feels his hands sweating up. 

The lump in your throat that you thought would never go away, but before you knew it, the warmth Bofurin– Ren gave you melted it, it’s why your thoughts feel so clear and simple at this moment, “I don’t want to go home, I want to stay here.”

He turns his neck to look at you, instinctively reaching out to touch you, but stops himself. You grab his hand and press it against your cheek, the warmth from you seeps onto his cold hand, and his gray eyes tremble and shine. Shuffling closer to him, to rest your forehead against his arm, “I was afraid that your love was fleeting. I’m afraid of you growing tired of me and leaving– that you won’t continue loving me.” You force yourself to whisper the last words out. 

Ren places both hands on your cheeks to tilt your head up, “It pains me to death to hear that.” He says with an agonizing expression, your words pricked at his soul. His heart ached at your restlessness. You squint your eyes when his thumbs wipe your tears away. “What can I do for you to be at peace?” You part your lips and fist the sheets beneath. 

“Tell me what happened that day.” 

“Ren?” 

“It’s alright, I’ll believe everything you say.” 

“But–” 

“You’re my wife, the most important person to me.” 

The Head Maid had been serving Ren– his parents since before you were born, is he going to trust your words over hers? Is he really going to believe you, will your next words ruin everything? Can you go back to that rotting cage? He caresses you upon seeing the despair in you. But if you don’t say anything, will nothing change? You want to tell him, you want him to believe you because then, that’ll mean he truly cherishes you. 

“She said– that I didn’t belong here,” pressing your knuckles to your mouth, “and…they called me a bitch who had forgotten her place.” You flinch when you see Ren’s face. 

“I should’ve just slain them,” he clenches his jaw. “Will you be at ease if I cut their tongues out?” 

“I…don’t want you to dirty your hands for me.” 

Ren softly brushes the hair out of your face. “It’s my duty as your husband to protect your honor.” 

Desperate to change the topic, “What did you bring? A book?” You chuckle, glancing at the book on the nightstand, a familiar cover. 

“Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll read to you.” He suggests, tucking you in, and situating himself in the seat beside you. He opens the book– the book you were reading before you ran away. “Ren?” You get his attention. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m cold.” 

“I’ll get another blanket.” He grabs the arms of the chair to push himself up. 

“I don’t want another blanket.” 

Ren pauses. Then he takes off his shoes, removes his swords, and places them down on a table. He throws his haori on the chair an gets onto the bed as well. You move to give him room, and he rests his back against the wall, pulling you to lay against him. You situate yourself comfortably as he drapes the blanket over you. Reaching over to the nightstand, he finally notices the kanzashi. “Where’d you get that?” 

You follow his eyes to where he is looking. The hairpin Togame gave you, Kotoha must’ve put it there. You remind yourself to write to him soon. 

“It was a gift.” 

He doesn’t think much of it, picking the book up, flicking to the page you left off of, and pulling out the bookmark. He begins reading, The Earthly Paradise; Ascent to Heaven:

“The glory of Him, who moves all things ray forth

through all the universe, and is reflected

from each things in proportion to its worth.”1

He watches the way your lashes flutter as you close your eyes. 

“I have been in that Heaven of His most light,

and what I saw, those who descend from there

lack both the knowledge and the power to write.

For as our intellect draws near its goal

it opens to such depths of understanding

as memory cannot plumb within the soul.”1

Deja vu, at this moment you’re reminded of your nanny reading to you, her voice– the voice of a mother.

“Nevertheless, whatever portion time

still leaves me of the treasure of that kingdom

shall now become the subject of my rhyme.

O good Apollo, for this last week, I pray

you make me such a vessel of your powers

as you deem worthy to be crowned with bay.”1

Tears trickle out as you reopen your eyes. 

“One peak of cleft Parnassus heretofore 

has served my need, now must I summon both

on entering the arena one time more.

Enter my breast, I pray you, and there breathe 

as high a strain as you conquered Marsyas

that time you drew his body from its sheath.

O power divine, but lend to my high strain

so much as will make clear even the shadow

of that High Kingdom stamped upon my brain,

and you shall see me come to your dear gove

to crown myself with those green leaves which you–”1

He felt your body shake against him, finally noticing your wet cheeks. “Wh– Why are you crying? Please don’t cry…please.” He frets, and you almost start laughing. He doesn’t even know why you’re crying. His body is warming you, lulling you to sleep. Tilting your head against his chest, you shut your eyes. 

“Young Lord! That’s a lie! I only wanted what was best for the Madam! Please! Believe me!” Kaji stares down at the Head Maid. She’s prostrating herself along with all the other members of the household, they cower in fear. The tip of his katana glints in the light. “Riko, which one dared to call my wife “a bitch”?” Riko quivers and steps forward, pointing out the lackey that pushed you. She pleads for her life as she gets dragged off, going to the same place as her lover. The servants hold their breaths, horrified. “Everyone besides the Head Maid, go back to your posts.” With Kaji’s permission, they hurriedly scurry back to where they were.

The woman at his feet, the woman whom he had known since an infant, the woman he trusted, the woman who comforted him when his parents died. He feels nothing but contempt. 

“You know very well that what you did was treason towards this house.” Kaji blankly states. 

“My Lord,” she points a finger at Riko, “She’s lying! Trust me!” 

Kaji scowls, “Trust you? I trusted you with my wife and this is how you scorn me.” 

“I only spoke on behalf of the Madam, she’s young and I thought she needed guidance!” 

“You told my Miss that she didn’t belong here! You did nothing to stop the torment!” Riko shouts at her. 

“Torment?” Kaji raises a brow when he looks at Riko. 

“They give the Lady old food, neglect their tasks regarding the Lady– and snicker behind her back.” When Riko finishes, Kaji feels like he wants to vomit. 

Why did you endure this? Put up with this treatment? If only you cared more about yourself– No, he should’ve known. Asked you more questions and paid more attention– he only has himself to blame. 

“It baffles me that someone this arrogant managed to stay here for so long. You won’t receive severance pay and are to never step foot back in Bofurin. If you do– I’ll have you killed.”

He wants to kill her, but his mother was close to her, back when he was still in her womb, the woman before him cared for her. At the very least, he never wants to see her again. 

Riko watches out the window as the Bofurin guards take the Head Maid out of the estate and to the borders. Most of the servants are forced along with her as well. The place no longer feels as angry.

In the Umemiya estate library, you browse the shelves. The Lord Commander had a habit of reading as well, so he hastily suggested you check it out. The amount of books surprised you; books from different languages, vast topics, and names of many authors. The librarian sits near the front door and you’ve wandered all the way to a back corner. You come across a reading nook with a cushioned chair and small table, the seat Umemiya would read in, he told you about it. You place a few books down on the table and go back reading some more titles on the bookshelf. Too immersed you don’t notice the footsteps approaching you. 

“Lady Kotoha told me you would be here,” Ren interrupts. He looks disheveled like he just ran. 

“What are you doing here, Ren?” You turn away from the shelf to look at your husband. 

“I– I just want to spend some time with you.” He scratches his neck, a small blush on his cheeks.

You tilt your head, “There’s only one chair here…” 

“It’s fine.” 

Ren sits on the windowsill as you flip through a book. You can feel him drilling holes into your head from how long he was staring at you.

“Is there something you want to say?” 

He perks up, “No?” 

Shutting the book, you wave him towards you. He stops right in front of you, surprised when you stand up. He really is as handsome as they say. You pull him down by the collar to quickly kiss him. When you back away, he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into him for a more deeper kiss. Your insides tingle as his tongue glides against yours. 

Ren rests his forehead against yours, “You drive me insane,” he murmured, voice a tad strained. “Having you kiss me and not being able to do all the things I want to do to you…it’s torture.” 

You smile, “We just need to be quiet.” 

He pulled away slightly, his eyes dark with desire. He knew he was losing the battle with himself. His eyes scanned the secluded nook you two were in, no one else was around, and the front desk was far enough away to not hear anything. A hint of excitement in his eyes, “You’re full of dangerous ideas, you know that?” Ren leans in, lips against your ear, his warm breath sends a shiver down your spine, “You’ve convinced me, princess. Let’s see if you can keep quiet.” 

Effortlessly lifting you, he pins you against the bookshelf, and your shoes slip off during the process. He presses his body up against yours, “I can’t believe I’m doing this in a library, but I can’t seem to resist you.” 

You softly chuckle, “You’re like a dog in heat.” He smirks at your comment.

“Woof.” 

Clothes are littered on the floor, your obi and his koshi-himos* are discarded on the chair, and his jacket is strewn over the table. Your kimono is open as he nips and kisses the skin of your breasts. You bite down on your bottom lip to muffle your moans. Your slick starts to cover the insides of your thighs. “Ren–'' you pant out with need. 

The sound of you so needy was making his self-control slip away, his desire starting to taking over. 

“I can’t wait much longer, I need you, now.” He grunts. 

You steady yourself on his shoulders as the tip of his cock prods your hole. His hands on your hips positioned you, he pressed himself against your entrance, his body tingling with anticipation. “You’re so beautiful, I can’t believe you’re mine.” He says in a low, hoarse whisper. His grip on you tightens as he begins to slowly push into you, the sensation of being inside you is so overwhelming that he couldn’t help but let out a guttural moan. You whimper into his neck. “So tight, so perfect.” 

Ren’s body moves against yours, finding a rhythm that matches your needs. You bite down on his shoulder to silence yourself, nails digging into his biceps as his cock hits your cervix. Ren bucks his hips at the slight pain, the feeling of your teeth heightening his pleasure, adding to the intensity of the moment. The sound of skin against skin filled the nook. A sob slips out your lips when he finds that sweet spot. “Shhh, you need to be quiet, remember?” He forces out.

“O-Okay…” You whisper.

“That’s it, good girl,” he breathed. “Stay quiet for me.” 

He can feel your body shaking with pleasure, your wet muscles clenching around him. “Let go for me princess– I can feel it.” 

A broken cry, muffled into his shoulder as you cream around his cock, your pussy flutters around him. “That’s it– ride it out. That’s my princess.” His body responded to your every shiver and shudder, he continues to fuck his dick in and out of your walls until he’s on the brink of release. With a few more snaps of his hips, he groans and cums inside, filling you up.

You’re spent, weakly clinging onto him. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear as you catch your breath. Ren cleans you up with his handkerchief and dresses you. 

The librarian avoids eye contact when he carries you out of the building. 

A couple of days pass and you arrive back at the Kaji estate. But you’re staying in the annex as the rest of the place is being rebuilt.

“I don’t want you to remember any bad memories.” Ren told you.

You reunited with Riko, she asked why you came back, and cried when you embraced her. Now, she’s at the Umemiya estate, being taught by the Head Maid there, as she’s to become one herself. The servants– the old ones that were still around were those who didn’t participate in mocking you, but only held their heads down. Riko must’ve stood up for them. The new ones were good-natured and did what they were supposed to. Hasu; your new personal maid was one recommended to you by Kotoha, she’s shrewd and diligent. Sometimes you think she does her job too seriously. 

Hasu helps you sort out the gifts, you’re starting to worry if Ren has a spending problem. You’ve started managing the household so you know how much money he has, but still– there’s no way you can wear all the jewelry he’s given you. 

“Madam, should I place this in your closet?” Hasu holds out the open box to you. 

A kimono delicately wrapped inside, you reached out to feel the fabric, Nishijin brocade* in the honshibo-ori* style. Not even your father would be able to obtain such a thing. “Is my husband back?” You ask one of the servants, and they rush outside to check, shortly returning, “The Lord is in the meeting room.” 

“Hasu, can you get me dressed?” She bows her head. 

The kimono fits you well, Ren must’ve given your measurements to ensure so. “I’m going to go see him.” Hasu and the servants nod and bow as you head off.

You find Ren sitting at a table, with other Vaisravana members, you see Sakura, Nirei, and Suo sitting beside each other. Enomoto and Kasumi are next to Kaji. Hiragi seems to have his vices with him as well. They seem busy, you decide to wait for Ren to finish when you hear Nirei speak, “Oh! It’s the Madam!” He must’ve seen you peeking in.

Ren immediately storms over to the door and swings it open, “Did you come to see me?” 

“You’re busy right now– I’ll wait for you to finish.” 

“I’m not busy at all.” 

“No, you are.” 

He frowns, drooping like a puppy who had their treat taken away. “We ain’t busy at all, right Hiragi!” Matsumoto smacks Hiragi’s shoulder who groans.

“It’s alright, you can go Kaji.” Hiragi pinches the bridge of his nose. With permission, Ren whisks you away to his office. 

“You don’t need to carry me.” 

“Why would I let you tire your feet when I’m here.” He sharply responds. 

“Is that a new kimono?” Ren sits down on the couch. 

“Mhm. What do you think of it?” You stand up to show it off. 

“Yeah…” he thumbs at the edge of a fold. 

“Seriously…I spent all day sorting through your gifts.” 

“Is there anything you don’t like?” 

“No, they’re all beautiful. I don’t know how I’m supposed to wear them all.” 

He chuckles and stands up, touching your cheek. “You can give away the ones you don’t want. I like spoiling my wife.” 

“I like being pampered.” You grin at him, he does the same back. 

“Then I’ll buy you the finest things.” He pinched your cheek. “I said I’d devote my life to you, did I not?” 

Raising yourself on your toes, you wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses your cheek and then your lips while his hands fiddle with your belt. It makes you wonder if his insatiable lust will quell when you’re pregnant.

“Ren, don’t you need to go.”

Setting your book down. You look at the man kneeling on the floor with his head in your lap. “Later. I haven’t seen you in a while…” He grumbles. It had only been a few hours. Reaching down to ruffle his hair, the sight makes you wonder if he was such a feared man. “I don’t want to leave you…or our child.” Ever since Kotoha told you, you were with child, he’s been skipping his duties to be by your side. Ren turned his head to look at your showing stomach, his heart blooming.

“Hiragi’s going to scold you.” The servants smile at the sight.

Dear Tsuya, 

I hope you enjoy reading this letter and it finds you well. Remember when we were kids and you would ask me what kind of man I want my husband to be? I now have the answer,  I would want him to be Kaji Ren. There is no other I wish to take as my husband, even with our misfortune, we were able to find our paths. In Bofurin, I can’t tell you how ridiculously happy I am. Give my warm wishes to Akihito and my nephew, spring is coming soon again. 

We will welcome our firstborn in the fall. If it is a girl, I will name her after you, after my dear elder sister. 

Ren was busy, there was word spreading about the Noroshi clan declaring war. When you asked him if it was going to be alright, he embraced you and told you not to worry about a thing. The Noroshi clan was only surrounded by bad rumors; their brutality and the way they left their battlefields burnt to the ground. There wasn’t much you could do, spending your days being doted on by the servants and having afternoon tea with Kotoha and Tsubaki.

“Get something in your stomach. It should calm you down.” The brunette slides a plate of fruit over towards you. “It’ll be fine. Bofurin isn’t that weak. You already know that, don’t you?” 

Tsubaki nods and pats your head, “Leave it all up to us. Let’s all go shopping when this is all over ‘kay?” 

Those two eased you. 

There were guards all over the estate, Riko and Hasu wouldn’t leave your side. As the date was approaching, you rarely saw Ren due to all the training and patrols that were going on. You sat embroidering a handkerchief for Ren. A light green fabric with a lotus in the middle of the embroidery hoop. A lotus for his name. 

“Miss, you're doing so well. I’m sure the Lord will be happy to receive this.” They both sing praises.

Heat rushes to your cheeks from you imagining his smile when you present it to him, wishing for his safe return. 

“Madam, it’ll be best if you stay here, I can send someone to give your present to the Lord.” You frown, but it makes sense, Ren was in the training halls and you didn’t want to cause a stir again.

“Alright, I’ll leave it up to you.” The guard ushers his assistant to make their way to Ren. They both bow their heads as you return to your room. 

“Shall I ready the bath…?” Hasu asks. 

“Yes, I’d like that.” 

She offers you a comforting smile before heading to the washroom. 

Washing your hands in the water, you hear a clatter. Looking down you notice your ring has broken into two. Picking the pieces up; how ominous. 

“The battle will commence a day from today. Right at 00:00. Their goal, as written in the letter, is to annihilate Bofurin. We’ll need to create a line of defense across the whole territory…the Tamon team will defend the rivers.” Lord General Militant Mizuki is leading the meeting. 

You must be sleeping by now, the moon is shining brilliantly in the night sky. When this is all over he doesn’t plan on leaving your side for a few days. A small smile tugged his lips as he imagined the peaceful days with you and the baby. 

Lord Commander Umemiya speaks up, “Bofurin represents every one of you guys…show them what you’ve got.” With his words of reassurance, the hall interrupts in chatter. 

We can’t keep the doom and gloom. Let’s give it a shot, boys!

Even Kaji himself felt his nerves calming at the sight of his fellow clansmen cheering themselves up. 

Blissful ignorance. 

~

“Lord General!” a member from the Zojo unit scrambles towards him. “They– They’ve broken through the south-west forest.” The forest near his estate– near you. He wants to abandon his position, but his men– “Kaji, go find herrr, we’ll handle it herrre, trrrust us.” Enomoto places a hand on his shoulder, Kasumi gives him a thumbs up, and he nods, “Thank you.” 

“Madam, it’s best for you to move to a more inconspicuous room.” A guardsman suggests. You can tell it had to do with the information he just received.

“Alright, lead the way.”

He guides you to a spare chamber, located near the servants’ wing. “Do not open this door until either I come back or the sun comes up.” He sternly advises and shuts the doors. Sighing, you sit down on a chair. Hasu holds your arm and Riko has a firm expression, the servants that went with you murmur amongst themselves. It made sense for everyone to be on edge. 

Hours pass and the sun will rise in a few. The maids huddled together on the mat. Dead silence until you see smoke coming from the nearby forest. Ushering everyone to be silent, you can pick up the distinct sound of swords clashing. For some reason, a terrible feeling brews within you. 

“Stay here. I must go check something.” 

“Madam– you can’t–” Riko stops when she sees your face. Clenching her jaw, “At least take us with you.” 

“No, stay here with the others. I won’t repeat myself. You too, Hasu.” Your unwavering tone allows no room to talk. They both reluctantly agree and you slip out of the room. There was no one in sight down the halls. As you further traverse back towards your chambers, the estate feels so eerie and unfamiliar. The doors of your outer chambers are wide open, you enter and see a guardsman lying on the ground. His neck was slashed open barbarically. Straining your breath to calm yourself, you pick up the tablecloth and drape it over him. A loud clang is near where you were. With no time to waste, you enter your room and reach inside the closet, pulling out a wooden box. You open and unwrap the cloth, revealing the katana your father gifted you with. 

“Father, please protect me.”

You’ve brought it with you to Bofurin without anyone noticing. Holding the sword to your chest, you walk by the wall, going closer to where the clanging is coming from. You hear a pair of voices arguing. One familiar, Ren’s voice. Stopping at the corner to lower yourself to the ground and peer over the wall to see what is going on, you see Ren fighting with a Noroshi member. 

“I didn’t expect Noroshi to stoop so low– going after innocents.” Your husband sneers. 

“Just go down already…I wanna leave…I’m so bored…I can die…” Kanon Banjo is the third strongest in Noroshi. A man he detests. “Why am I tasked with this….” Banjo bites at his nails. “Getting a stupid girl….” 

He tightens the grip on his sword enraged. He’d do anything to protect you, even if he has to turn back into the beast he hates.

Covering your mouth, Ren was heaving on the ground.

“Come on…stand up. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon…Why…won’t you stand up? Why– won’t you stand up?!... Weaklings like you need to shut up and die.” You watch in horror as he raises his and points the tip of his blade over Ren’s throat. 

You don’t know why you did it. You didn’t want Ren to die. You didn’t want to watch him die right in front of your eyes. 

Unsheathing your sword, you rush and plunge the entirety of it through the back of Banjo’s neck. Twisting it sideways to enlarge the entry. He screams in anguish and twists his body, turning his sword and piercing you in the side. You gasp out and crash backward into the wall, sliding down onto the floor. Your head must’ve hit the wall, you can’t hear anything. Your vision is twisting and fading. Banjo grips at the blade part of the katana sticking out his neck, screeching in agony before crashing down, trying to pull it out, but since you’ve twisted it he struggled to do so. Blinking, you see the unknown swordsman give up on removing the sword, already coming to terms he was going to die. Banjo grabs his katana and forces himself towards you, planning on finishing you off before he perishes, taking you with him. Ren regains consciousness and tries to push himself up, to see what happened. 

Shit– did Hiragi come–

Kaji sees Banjo, an unfamiliar katana that’s through him, he turns to look at where the intruder is going. The scene can’t be real. His wife, on the ground, blood pooling beneath you. Kaji drags himself to his feet, not minding the insane pain that wrecks his body. You blink slowly, pupils rising towards him, looking behind the man who was going to kill you. 

He curses. No– This can’t be happening. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck 

Ren draws his wakizashi*, stabbing it into Banjo’s neck, directly aiming for the carotid artery. The Noroshi member falls limply onto the floor, possibly dead or either about to die very soon, so he doesn’t care enough to check, crawling toward you instead. 

The only thing you can hear aside from the high-pitched ringing is your heartbeat, it’s pounding inside your chest. The bruising sharp pain in your side, your stomach– 

“Wake up– shit don’t fall asleep– please–!” He places his hand over yours– over the wound. He needs to call for Kotoha, blood rivulets trickle down his forehead into his eyes, hastily blinking to clear his vision. “Hold on– hold on for me–”  

He’ll probably scold you for being reckless when you wake up. It’ll be fine, he can’t stay mad at you for long. When this is all over, you’ll finally tell him you fell as deeply in love as he has. Then you’ll spend time with Riko and Hasu before heading to a tea party with Kotoha and Tsubaki. When this is all over, you’ll live in peace with the child, you’ll live the rest of your life happily with your Lord General Kaji Ren.  

*Notes

[yawarakaizai]

Could I Request Jouno with a quiet People pleaser that'd be so cute ngl >-<I'll leave the rest up to you, and how you see fit hehe

RECIPITENT Jouno Saigiku (BSD) NOTE omg ,,,..... so many things to say , , ,.. ... ... jouno is so aaaa aaaaaaAAA <3333 i love h im

Note; fluff! gn reader (they/them), overprotective jouno

we all know that jouno is a big tease to his peers. you weren't an exception to his regular 'insults' and remarks.

what confused him the most is how you'd never bite back.

when you first joined the hunting dogs, you were naturally a reserved and quiet person.

he'd try to bug you, but you never really budged in the way he'd expect.

you take every insult with a nod and unbothered, gracious smile.

jouno began to feel bad. he pitied you for what he thought was you being oblivious when in truth - you thought that he wouldn't like to see you genuinely hurt by his remarks.

against all odds, you two fell in love rather quickly.

to simplify it ; you fell first but he fell harder.

jouno didn't have any previous relationship experience so it was DIFFICULT to figure out his emotions. he had to go to the other members for help.

tecchou was as equally dumb if not dumber than him when it came to love. teruko began to blackmail him, threatening to tell you about his crush before he even had a chance to confess. fukuchi, well.. he was too drunk to give any proper advice. jouno found he was able to confide in tachihara who suggested he take you out somewhere nice and tell you straight-forwardly about how he felt.

and so, he did just that. taking you out to a lavish restaurant by the sea, you were amazed at the thought jouno would even do this much for you.

you were even more amazed when he took you out on the pier with the night sky hanging above and got down on one knee, presenting you with a ring as he confessed his overdue romantic attraction towards you.

bashfully, you informed him,

" ...jouno, that's for marriage. "

he's immediately like &^!*(£*&?@? NO!! I knew that. duh, I obviously knew that!!

you're giggling at his cover-up and shut him up by getting down as well and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

he lost it.

for the first time in his life, jouno was so stupidly in love!

he treasures you like gold, like a princess, like treasure, oohhh you are so so spoiled and prized by him!

on a mission his last victim just barely alive vomiting blood by jouno's shoes as they claw desperately for his mercy, then he just,, ''would you like to see my cute s/o?'' the guy is so confused. does he say no? but if he says yes and sucks up to jouno, maybe he'd be spared! jouno goes ahead and turns his phone screen to the bloodied man, showing him his lock screen - a selfie of you and jouno that you insisted was worthy of having as wallpaper. times like that made jouno wish he could see, but nevertheless, " aren't we just the cutest? " with a nervous gulp, the criminal would nod his head rapidly. " yeah! " he'd agree with jouno, unable to care less, really. " they're adorable, yeah! you're a lucky man! " jouno grinned, straightening his posture to tuck his phone away. " i really am a lucky man. a nice one, as well. " he put his sword away much to the relief of the man below. " i gave you the privilege of looking at an angel from the heaven you'll never reach. " jouno had switched his sword for a gun.

you were such a kind person. jouno thought you were a bit too soft and way too forgiving for your own good.

when he'd tease you, he'd KNOW when he went too far, but he was so confused when you wouldn't be upset. at least not visibily.

he could sense that your body would deflate in quiet sadness at some certain joke, but you'd never say anything about it.

you kept your feelings to yourself and soon enough he found out it was because you didn't want to upset him by telling him his humour wasn't right for you.

the day he approached you about it, his heart broke hearing you sob as you were uncertain with how to set boundaries properly.

you were always a ''i don't mind, if you wanna!'' person, letting others push you around and use you how they pleased.

since that confrontation, jouno was always sure to be gentle with you.

he'd still tease you every now and then, but he'd compliment you so, so much.

when you'd oversleep, he'd wake you up by peppering kisses all over your face instead of his past pulling-the-covers-off-and-opening-the-blinds routine.

although jouno still can't fully grasp the concept of a 'people-pleaser', he feared that you were scared of him or at least had been scared of him which made you unable to approach him about your dislike for his mean behaviour.

after that, he was able to spot more instances where you'd allow yourself be taken like a dumb doll by others.

when people would boss you around and you'd comply obediently.

no. he didn't approve of that.

while he'd happily threaten others - with you, he'd sit you down and warn you that your kindness can be exploited.

you were always too afraid to tell people 'no', so jouno would begin to teach you how. steadily, of course!

no one was going to take advantage of you, not with him around.

he cares so much for you, he's such a sweet bf to have, looking out for you.

plus, it was so funny that he - a sadistic, cruel, extroverted ex-criminal had a sweet, shy partner by his side!

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

[lotusmi]

my success, my failures

honest post about my current life and thoughts on void 💌

Hi angels, this my most personal post and I don't know why, i felt like posting this. This is going to be an honest long post about my loa journey, void journey and whatever how my life went after I realized I was in control.

At first point I would like to recall: I am not a void state blog, I am not a void "master" (I am not assuming this, In 4d I sure AM!). My blog is more about LOA, the Neville Goddard Law, the Edward Art Law. The simple, beautiful Law that I felt in love with. I like the void state method, I have entered it a few times, I'll be talking on this in a while, first I'll tell my story until here on how I left the worst circumstances...

As I was someone like most of people are, I thought I was not the operant power. I have known the law of attraction for 7 years, and I belived I had to "beg" the "universe" to give me things, I would write letters to the "universe" asking for my desires, then I would try to have "good energy", write down million of affirmations in future tense and then wait in hope to be "deserving" of them.

As time passed by, I yes, had manifested some things with this law of attraction thing, but I never changed my state, my mindset, I did not even knew what was those stuff, I would still let myself imagine bad things happening to me, I felt unwanted, ugly, unlucky, with no freedom. I had also lots of limiting beliefs, had to drink water to subs work, listen to then million times, be deserving, be positive, afirm without saying "no/never" etc.

Things were getting worse, I felt always more unwanted, different, unlucky, inferior, all of that. My life was getting shitty, I would imagine me having fights with my parents, me crying, I would see myself as an victim of the world, and I stopped even trying to have optimism and using law of attraction, i literally gave up. At this point I had lost my faith, so I lived all my days complaining and begging God, universe, deities to "save me". In this phase I suffered like never, I was super depressed, my home was toxic and i mean TOXIC. I was anxious, I wanted to kill myself. I wanted to break free.

So at this point I was in the worst months of my life, I was not allowed to even have friends or use internet for more than 7 months straight. The things they did to me... I am even embarassed to tell about those things. I had to decide on persist or give up. So I said to myself I would do my better to ignore my outer-world and stop letting those things affect me, it was not easy. I would hurt myself and have a lot of anxiety crisis, but I found my peace within, I started living in imagination and seeing in my imagination what I most wanted to have, be. I was being delusional, I did not even knew about all of this LOA thing. I just wanted to escape of my reality.

In less than 2 months everything changed. I was more happier, and I was now allowed to do my things again, talk to friends, have my computer and all of this. I did not knew It was me, I thought it was a miracle.

Life went by, I fell in love, my selfconcept was shit, he dumped me. Still, at that time I did not knew about the law. I did not knew he did that because I assumed. I would imagine that he did not loved me, I would imagine him saying "it is over" at the point I would cry imagining, I felt that real, so I manifested. I was the cause. I did not knew.

After all of this I wanted to love myself and take care of me, I started learning about spiritualy, I learned that I am part of God. That I am God experiencing being human. I walked in love, started healing my trauma, I got a lot of it. In a meditation trying to communicate to my "higher self" I entered the void, blue gray, peaceful, beautiful... So still... I there naturally affirmed "I am calm, happy, love, ethereal". After this day everythin changed and I had no more reasons to be sad, I was healed.

But I was still in love with my ex and I only discovered the law because of it, I searched on how to manifest an ex, yea. It did not worked since of I let old story, circumstances, "false free will" let me down. But I discovered the neville subreddit, then the loatumblr, then the void, WHAT WAS, the void. And got to know I had entered it once, I wanted to do it again. I entered more of 3 times maybe until now, and also got some I AM state experiences. (They not the same to me since i feel emptiness from void and wholenesses from I AM + I AM state is golden and I see myself in other people bodies).

I learned about void with Halokisses, but at that point I thought it was some magical place, months passed by, my void concept got better but I still let circumstances bother me. I was not also doing my best to enter it to be honest. I was manifesting my life to be great even while manifesting entering in the void.

♡ What happened by this last months is that I just realized I love my life now, I love myself, my body, my friends, I have time to me, I have enough money to buy my things, I am free to do a lot of things. I never am bothered by circumstances + senses since I am in control of my states. and this made me feel like I don't even need the void altrough I still am going to enter it again, my void concept is beyond perfect right now that I fully know WHO I AM. At this point I am just so saturated about void that I relaxed about WHEN entering again because I am full convicted that I can do this and that I don't "NEED" it.

What I am trying to say is, circumstances does not matter, and you all don't need the void! You all need yourselves. I also want you to know that I AM not a "void master blog" all of that. I am someone who won the circumstances and manifested things, I am someone in love with Neville that want to help people, I am someone that did some subs for helping other people.

I know how it feels to be in a toxic home, feel ugly, be unwanted, have no friends, no money, be depressed, be anxious. I only told you the last 3 years of my life. I know how the void seems to be the only "way" and all of that. I know how it is like to just have someone to say "I am entering it for you" or wonder "When is my time?", I know how is like to think "you are the only exception" I know the void for about 8 months and I did not gave up. I manifested lots of things even while manifesting entering it. ♡ ALL I did was to change the story I was telling myself, the assumptions I held about me. I understood that 3d reflects 4d and so no matter what, everything is possible.

So please, stop begging me to "enter the void" for you or say "I can't do x so do for me". I am doing ALL I NOW can do to help you, I do posts, I reply asks, I make audios, I assume you all can do it. As soon as I enter the void I am of course affirming for you there. But until now I NEED, no, YOU need to save yourself, because even WITHOUT me, you can do this. YOU ARE THE CREATOR.

You don't have to pass by all that I had passed to realize WHO YOU ARE.

♡ My success story is I myself, I saved me. I am not depressed anymore, I am calm, happy, I am free. I never thought I could love myself this way!

₊and as soon I enter the void again, I will post my success, do more challenges, and I am even thinking of entering for it for you.

I hope this had inspired you and cleared things about me and my blog, I hope we all can help ourselves,

with love, Lotus - because I rised from mud. 💌

[emiko-matsui]

Can't you hear that scratching? There's something at the door. The wind has picked us up now and we're hanging in the air as you grip me like an animal that you're about to spear. "Be good to me," I whisper. You say "What?" and I say "Nothing, dear." // I make shipwrecks out of my dress and the door below it splinters and the creature creeps inside. We fall into each other and the scratching grows so loud because that unwanted animal wants nothing more than to get out.

I've never seen a diamond in the flesh, I cut my teeth on wedding rings in the movies, and I'm not proud of my address, in this torn up town there's no postcode envy. But every song is like gold teeth, grey goose, tripping in the bathroom, blood stains, ball gowns, trashing the hotel rooms.

Take me away into the night, out of the hum of the streetlights and into the forest. I'll do whatever you say to me in the dark, scared I'll be torn apart by a wolf in a mask of a familiar name.

If you go out beyond those trees your palms will sweat, you'll nock your knees, and the creatures you'll encounter there will gobble you up for good. There's dangers lurking just outside, but no need to be terrified, this simple advice can be applied: never go into the woods! Wolves and bears will eat you there—they'll drag you to their den.

This town is dying—why are they like this? God keeps on lying and they try to hide it. They're setting fire to the churches tonight, the shadows dance on the wall waiting for the answers to their call.

I ate dinner with beasts, crinkled hands, and red cheeks looking at my body like it's food. // Burn the witch alive, drink our dirty water, be prepared for the Mississippi slaughter.

Blood was spilt along this road and you cannot wash it white with snow. Everything here is built on bones. // Visions you don't want to see, hide your face from prophecy. A soldier not from woman born will come for you, you have been warned.

To all things housed in her silence nature offers a violence. The bear that keeps to his own line, the wolf that seeks his own kind. // The ground walked here is a wonder. It never ceases to hunger. All things nature has given she takes back from the living.

Come and get some, skinning the children for a war drum put in the front of the table selling bombs and guns. It's quicker and easier to eat your young. // It's a kindness, highness, crumbs enough for everyone. Old and young are welcome to the meal. Honey, I'm making sure the table's done.

Now I'm considered ugly from every angle, you're the only beauty I don't want to strangle. Can't you hear me crying out for guidance? // There's no sympathetic victims anywhere. There's blood in my hair.

Oh, girl, your story's all wrong and your dream will be a nightmare before too long. // When the sirens wailed and the bombs fell we ran from the schoolyard and into hell, and what we could've been time will never tell.

You with the dark curls, you with the watercolour eyes, you who bares all your teeth in every smile. He says, "I can always hear you sing, I wanna hear you speak to me," while a stranger braids my hair back out on the streets. // As sharp and serious as a pistol in the eye, my heart is full of swords.

Marrow made a wife of Eve, but no one gave up a rib for me or mine. My heart did expose to the elements calloused and untouched by man's design. Oh, my ugly organs... // The dark doesn't frighten me, I chose to close my eyes. It is mine, it is mine.

Embarrassed by her anger she slept amidst the rocks and as dreamland came to take her it seemed the moon began to talk. It said, "Oh, my little nothing, I am jealous of your voice for though the tides obey my orders, know my orders aren't my choice."

I don't want your half-baked sympathy. When did it save those in need? Still, I thought that angels did exist, but now I hope they plan to end it quick because Friday is black for me. Only my ashes will see the sea.

Which wolf wins? I guess it really depends, you just gotta wait and see which one's appetite is the biggest. Turns out I'm living in a horror film where I'm both the killer and the final girl. // Everyone is a bad guy and there's no way to know who's the worst. Karma's gonna come for all of us and I hope, I hope, I just hope she comes for you first.

You know how folks are afraid of the wolf? If you really stop and think, throughout time, between a wolf and a shepherd, who do you think has killed more sheep?

Please picture me in the weeds before I learned civility, I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted. // Though I can't recall your face I've still got love for you. Pack your dolls and a sweater, we'll move to India forever. Passed down like folk songs, our love lasts so long...

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. I know it's true that visions are seldom what they seem, but if I know you I know what you'll do—you'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.

Once I was lost in the woods. I saw a girl in a hood and she told me I should stick to the path, wolves will plot behind your back. // Soon she was out of my sight, her red hood a phantom in the night, and that's when I saw the wolves appear (but they filled me with ease and not with fear). So I went into the night shedding the skin of my old life as I got deeper and deeper within (and I howled at the moon and at the wind).

ylfa snorgelsson | farewell wanderlust, the amazing devil // royals, lorde // candles, daughter // never go into the woods, the cog is dead // everyone's dying (grandma's drunk again), roe kapara // us and pigs, isella // built on bones, emily scott robinson // blood in the snow, hozier // eat your young, hozier // we will commit wolf murder, of montreal // grandmother song, vienna teng // dear arkansas daughter, lady lamb // ribs, the crane wives // oh my little nothing, kyle stibbs // black friday, angela giarratana // you first, paramore // the saint of lost causes, justin townes earle // seven, taylor swift // once upon a dream, lana del rey // lost in the woods, honey magpie

[shakti-tiger]

Having a "time out" from Tumblr

If you're feeling good about today's Good Omens news please don't read, if, like me you're feeling deeply troubled by it, then feel free to read on.

Yesterday the Independent paper was able to quickly go and pick up some comments off X about how devastated fans were about the possible cancellation of their show. Comments that didn't mention the victims or the problematic nature of having Neil Gaiman involved at all.

Today we hear that Neil Gaiman is offering to "step back" whatever that means, from the production so that it can continue.. "

in some quarters I see that people are taking it as a chance to have hope, to even celebrate the fact that this makes it more likely that the show moves forward.

I am only going to give my own personal take, that I'm finding it deeply triggering to see those kind of comments around because it kind of feels like a free pass for Gaiman. This means that he can get his show made, profit from it, take the plaudits, if there are any, just by keeping his head down.

If /when it comes out we're still going to have to see publicity about it, people are still going to give their opinions about it, and in my heart I'm going to know that it was written by somebody who has taken advantage of young women and lied for years and years.

And also the ideas of somebody who is deeply troubled screwed up and definitely needs hell of a lot of therapy, if they were even ready to admit that they'd done anything wrong.. "Deadline understands Gaiman’s offer is not an admission of wrongdoing".

It's no longer going to feel like a love story, it's not even going to feel funny, it's going to feel like a vindication and service to someone who doesn't deserve it.

So whereas previously I was finding that I could maybe find a corner of Tumblr that I might fit into now, I'm going to stay clear of it for the moment because I know people are all processing this stuff in their own way and I've said that on previous posts but I'm just a little raw around this kind of celebration at the moment. And that's okay.

And if I put my self-analysis hat on, I know that this is a reminder trigger for people in my family carrying on as though everything was wonderful and fine, when in actual fact it wasn't. it feels like not being heard. It feels like people getting away with stuff. And that obviously still isn't quite healed for me.

Sending love, hugs, angel wings, glitter, dolphins and possibly even Kraken to anyone who fancies them. 🕊️🌟💖🧸🐬🐬🐳🐋🪽🪽✨🪩

P.S.

Oh and please don't mention Terry Pratchett in the same breath as Season 3 to me. He had his hard drive and all his unfinished works destroyed under a steam roller after his death.

This is an extract from an interview with Terry and Neil in 2006. Interestingly both of them were asked about a sequel. Terry's response is below.

“Neil and I thought about a sequel an awful lot initially. We talked about it on tour. And I think it was a big relief to both of us, when one day we looked one another in the eye and said, 'I thought you wanted to do a sequel.'

Neil's response was less unequivocal..

“We are actually just starting to think about beginning to ponder the idea of exploring the possibilities of perhaps someday writing a sequel together. It may happen, it may not."

Really I'm not convinced that any of this was Terry's idea.

Rant ends:-

[kestalsblog]

Thoughts on "Loser, Baby" Song

From what I’ve seen, viewers are extremely divided on the impact of the song “Loser, Baby” in the fourth episode of Hazbin Hotel. I’ve decided to share my own thoughts on the sequence below. Warning that this is a long post, and if you are triggered and upset by the song and/or episode, I encourage you not to read. I understand and respect any individual analysis, and if you were hurt by the song in any way, you are 100% valid. Others who feel differently are also valid. All I ask for is that same respect.

I don’t believe the only people qualified to speak on media are those who can relate to it, but I feel, given the conversation surrounding the episode, I should briefly mention my own background, so people don’t assume I am trying to speak on behalf of other survivors here. As a preface, I was in a severely abusive long-term relationship, so I can understand multiple perspectives here.

First, since Husk is a gambler, it’s safe to read the song as an extended metaphor for gambling too, in which case “loser” takes on the literal meaning– someone who has lost the game. Husk reminds Angel that many of us are dealt the shitty hand in life, and that the best way to get through the game is simply to go together. That’s probably the simplest positive analysis, but I think it's important to keep in mind throughout the whole song so that we don't read "loser" only as "failure" or "scum of society."

The most understandable criticism, though, is that the piece is blaming victims by attacking them and trivializing their experiences. I’m the most on the side of this argument at the words “whiny bitch,” which feel like an odd choice considering Husk has been nudging Angel to open up throughout the entire episode. It’s not my favorite line, but I can handle it only if we read the song as Husk actually singing to himself and calling himself these names as a means for Angel to see that he feels the same.

I do have some fondness for the song’s language as it continues, though. Excuse me for referencing my own personal experience here, but it’s relevant to my understanding.

Eventually in my healing journey, I realized writing and speaking affirmations to myself like “you’ll get better soon!” and “time heals everything!” were making me feel worse and frustrated. I felt like I was just waiting around for this magical deadline when I would “improve” or “recover,” and when that didn’t happen, I felt terrible about myself because I felt like a failure on top of damaged goods. I was letting myself down.

I reached a cathartic moment one day when I admitted to myself, “Maybe things are never going to get better, and I am always going to feel ruined by this.” Confessing this possibility allowed me to realize that, despite the fact that I am a “loser” in that I lost time, innocence, my old sense of security, and my carefree nature from before, I can still experience meaningful and even joyful moments in this new, altered condition.

At one point in the sequence, lots of flashing signs point terrible, degrading names at Husk and Angel. I can see why this might be upsetting to some viewers who are adamant that the characters do NOT represent those labels, but there is an obvious alternate reading that these are just the names both have assigned themselves over the years. By putting them bright and on display, they can face their self-hatred directly and reclaim their honest selves. (Let me pause here to say it's also crucial to remember Husk is not directly calling Angel any of these names). The solo lights then disappear and are replaced first with the soft blue raindrops moment where Husk shields Angel with the umbrella, and finally with the single LOSER where they both can dance together.

Most importantly, the lyrics gesture toward surprisingly affirmative by the song’s conclusion: “Eat shit together, things will turn out differently / It’s time to lose your self-loathing / Excuse yourself, let hope in, baby / Play your card, be who you are.”

Husk isn’t disregarding the possibility of hope, even in the gutter for the losers. In fact, he directly welcomes the possibility that the game can change with company, and self-hatred won’t be beneficial toward supporting that change. Even if we are dealt the losing hand, he reminds us the game is still worth playing. He reminds Angel again and again that it's okay to be who he is. And now "loser" assumes a new connotation - losing the negativity, the hatred, the things that are holding them back.

Significantly, after this point, no more self-negatives are even spoken, not even "loser" again because Husk and Angel are interrupted before the crucial word “me” when they sing that final line “loser just like—” Any connection to the self now has been effectively erased, reminding us that Angel and Husk may have made poor choices, may have been given crappy cards, but they are not losers in the sense that they are not less of people.

Last, it’s important to remember that the song is not meant to speak for everyone. It can't. If we’re going to be strict about it, it’s not for any survivors except Angel, and as we can see by his shifting mood, it certainly helps him feel better in the moment. The whole episode has been about Husk trying to encourage him to “break down his walls” and stop feigning the super inflated ego act he typically puts on, so, in one way, it becomes a “let’s get Angel past the self-loathing that’s preventing him from being his real self so we can move on to something more genuine and happier together" tactic.

I know it’s hard to separate our lived experiences from media. Judging from the disparity in opinions I’ve read from survivors on the song, I’d say it’s been therapeutic for just as many as it’s been damaging.

Before I conclude, it's worth mentioning I also have my own critiques of the song. I mentioned one with the word “whiny.” Another potential issue is the difference between Angel and Husk’s problems. I’m not trying to minimize gambling addictions by any means, but I know many of us feel that Husk’s loss of a cushy social position because of gambling pales against the extreme bodily violence Angel faces. I think it would be odd for Husk not to attempt to comfort Angel in some way, and trying to relate is one of the most common ways of doing so, but I admit that the discrepancy in their situations bugged me throughout the number. Husk reminds Angel he's "not unique" in his problems, which is important for survivors to remember (to know they are not alone), but it might mean a little more coming from someone on a similar playing field. The one redemptive thing I can say here though is that both characters sold their souls to someone with a tyrannical hold over them, and even though we know Alastor isn’t abusing Husk in the same way Val hurts Angel, we have yet to see the connotations of his power within that specific dynamic.

When push comes to shove, the song overall works for me, and I admit I felt seen while watching/listening, which isn't even something I really care about in media, but it was an interesting experience nonetheless. If you felt otherwise, I am sorry, and I encourage you to do your best to separate yourself from the media you consume and remember that every story, every song, is written by flawed people for flawed people. I mean it as fondly as possible, but we're all just losers "living in the same shit sandwich." Nothing will ever perfectly represent or encompass your own experience and healing. Analyze art respectfully for what it is, what it isn't, and what it can be.

What else can you do?

[iamadyingangel]

i am a victim of my angelic nature trust

[kit-williams]

Heartless Madness

The title is based off of a really cool powermetal song. I'm probably going to try and name most if not all after a powermetal song tbh.

tw: Yandere? (Might need a follow up fic), aftermath of rape, aftermath of torture, the Drukhari are here so yeah

This was a hard darling to come up with... as while I love Iron Warriors she had to be the right balance of interesting enough and made of tough stuff and also to be easily mailable/moldable. I might eventually do a "least yandere" poll and see who wins and either reworks that boy or just gives them a chapter serf darling. I'm doing civilian darlings because 1) More fun 2) more terrifying

Harram the Wallbreaker let his heavy lumbering steps kick up the dust on the cracked and torn pavement. They had replied to a distressed signal from this agriworld and the warband needed another world like this to keep the war machine going. In the midst of a Drukhari attack. The night was cold and quiet... till he watched a number of humans turn their heads to the East. "What is it." His voice rumbles out of his terminator armor.

"This is the second night we've heard a baby cry. We think it might be a Drukhari trap as all that has been observed over there were unfortunate victims dying." A man said.

Harram huffed out causing a billow of steam to leave at the same time of his huff making his armor look far more alive then it was. "Has anyone checked?"

"No my lord."

He turned to the East and began the slow march. If there was an ambush waiting to happen Harram was certain he could handle it and if there was a baby there still alive then perhaps they were made of sterner stuff... like iron.

He walked past naked bodies chained to the ground in various states of decomposition. All of them chained to the ground with some xenos looking bear trap like contraption. He turned the sensitivity of the audials up and he could hear the faint crying. How it would pause then start up again.

He stopped in the mist as the crying soon turned to laughter and he pushed his armor's capabilities to the limit. "Shh Ferum... no more tears... I know you're hungry... mommy has nothing left to give." He could hear her weak hums as he slowly walked closer.

He sees her on the thermals first and scrolls through all of the different settings to get the full picture as he walks closer. He can see maggots in the lashes across her back, one leg encased fully in the xenos torture device, blood and a high degree likelihood of xenos sperm paints her inner thighs, he can tell starvation and dehydration are setting in for her, and he can tell her hair was recently cut in such a jagged motion. Harram suspects for a trophy or for other things worse should she have been found... entertaining enough for the xenos.

"Has the Emperor answered my prayers?" She speaks so softly as he watches her weakly turn her head. She ends up just rolling over, her watches her eyes close in pain as large grey eyes look at him with a tiny fist jammed into a small mouth. Ugly brusing paints her face, bite marks littering her breasts, less cuts on the front just far more bruising.

"No. He did not send me." Harram replies walking closer.

"You are one of his angels." She sighs in relief.

"I am not. I am something far worse." He tilts his head slightly thinking, "I am a devil... a fallen angel." He chuckles more to himself at his poetic nature.

"Still an angel." He sees her bloody smile. But he can see a look in her eyes ones of grim acceptance, "Have you come to save me? Or just take my baby?"

"Originally just for the baby." He notes the sad smile on her face as her eyes water and she just nods slowly petting his head. "But... I can take you too. What you will return to is not going to be the same."

"I've been changed by this... as long as whatever I return to is better than being raped by xenos I'll say that's an improvement." She bitterly laughs letting her tears fall. He watches the infant try to breastfeed once more. The exhaustion as Harram realizes the baby looks fed and hardly any exposure.

"I am going to contact my brothers to see how to remove this without removing your leg." He says watching her nod.

"Thank you dearest angel..."

Harram just sighed and talked with his brothers as he started to pull the pins in their specific order. He ignored the younger warrior's persistant asking of why he was even doing this. The child was more than healthy enough, simply take them and put the mother out of her misery... even if you ignored that they brought up the points of she would be in recovery for so long. Perhaps that was why Harram followed Endion he was considered sentimental amongst the Iron Warriors and left to start his own warband.

They all did not fit their genesires ideal vision of iron... but they were still of iron! He pulled a pin out to quickly earning a whimper from her throat as tears flowed from her eyes. "Please... I do not wish to be trouble."

"Do not speak mortal. I could have killed you if I did not wish to deal with this burden."

Esteemed terminator Harram. We have movement a few clicks north of you. It's the xenos!

Harram lifted his head as he heard her whimpers as she could hear the near silent thrum of their crafts. He pulled a decorative pelt from his shoulder off and covered her up with it. "Stay there. Do not move at all lest I crush you." He watched her pull her son to her chest and do her best to keep the infant safe with only her body to protect them. The pelt was to simply keep her out of the view of the xenos. "You will probably lose HEARING." He roared the only warning before the twinlinked bolter started throwing the explosive rounds down wind.

His leg joints locked in place, so he would be less likely to crush her and the babe. "Brother's I have started to engage."

"Are you being soft again, Harram?" He could hear Endion's warm voice suddenly connect to the vox channel.

He watched rounds connect with one of the small crafts as it was just a handful of the quick xenos. "No brother I am being like Iron!"

"What have you found then?"

"IRON!" The large chain sword slams down being lucky enough to catch one of them trying to run past and slice at his joints. He couldn't hear the infant screaming over the scream of the chains. He couldn't hear her broken sobs of begging to be killed then be hurt by them again. Harram was focused on the combat. "I have found Iron! I refuse to let them RUST!"

Harram has to unlock his legs to turn around and charge the cocky xeno. But his swings were too slow as the xeno was slowly peeling away sheets of ceramite. Not once during this exchange he thought that this was a tactical error... other brothers would see this as an error but then again they would also be as stubborn as he would be to claim the iron.

It screeched as he saw his Orichalcum, he questions not when he saw her as his, sitting up having thrown one of the knife like pins into it. The tired weak smile on her face is replaced by terror as she rolls to shield her child as it charges but that was enough time for him to slam into the xeno and start crushing it.

When he was done he turned to her watching her writhe on the ground as blood oozed out as in it's dying moment it must have activated the contraption. She looks up at him in pure pain as he pulls out his knife and watches it heat up. "Pray that you are made of Iron."

She bitterly barks, "I was an Iron worker!" She half screams, "I'm half metal shavings at this point!" She shrieks as he doesn't give her much time to think as he just removes the whole leg.

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

Iron was apart of her. His Orichalcum. And her son Ferum. He learned quite a bit about her during her recovery. She was an Ironworker and so was her dead husband. She had lost him before Ferum was born... meaning that Harram could focus his attentions upon her without any meddlers.

Endion had teased him about his fondness... but it had been so long since he found anyone he could call iron. Though Endion was hardly one to complain as Harram would find him stealing Ferum away and of course teased the warlord of entering his "nesting" phase again. To which he threatened to take his Orichalcum away... and Harram could only silently stew as he would not risk losing her to a far more... charming one of his bretherin.

"Oh hello Harri-ham." She said in a cutesy voice as she was busy feeding Ferum some baby food. "Sorry I was talking with him." She just say softly. Harram just huffed softly. "Hey Harram... I want to deeply thank you for saving my life and that of Ferum. I don't know how to repay you."

"You have no need to repay me."

"Well I was thinking that I should be good to go back home soon." She hardly noticed Harram stop in his actions of getting his own food before he turned around with a bowl in hand just shoveling some food into his mouth. "I don't want to be a burden on you any more than I already have."

"What of your nightmares?"

"I'm a big girl Harram I'll have to sleep alone eventually." She chuckles as whenever he has been in the room at night she ends up usually in his bed or asleep on the plush chair in his work room just afraid to be alone... or when the night terrors come back how he grounds her. And perhaps he had grown content with the small warmth in his bed... he had never understood while Endion would bring mortals to his bed.

Not till he had her under him begging for him to fuck the xenos touch away... to replace the repulsive feelings... to help her feel clean again. "What if I don't want you to go." Harram said a little darkly just watching her blink and look at him owlishly.

"I... I..."

"Just stay for a little while longer... I can help you get things ready for you to return to, yes?"

"Oh... alright." She says softly smiling at him not realizing that the simple goalpost of 'being ready enough to leave' would keep moving further and further... and he doubts she will complain... too much.

[junebugwriter]

Trans Awareness, Remembrance, and the Dangers of Existing 

For those who still yet live. 

(Image from GLAAD.)

November 13th – 19th was the annual Transgender Awareness Week, a week that ends in Transgender Day of Remembrance. The Day of Remembrance is a day that is solemn, tragic, and rather sobering. It’s the day we take to remember our transgender siblings who were killed in acts of transphobic hate. It is a day of mourning, of gravity, and many, many tears, because of how truly painful it can be. For me, a newly self-realized trans woman, it’s even more sobering. 

Rewind to about a year ago. I was beginning to acknowledge the enormity of my gender dysphoria after 35 years of denial. It was something I was desperate to avoid at the beginning because I knew. I knew how much the world hates trans people for existing. How dangerous it is to step outside of the boundaries of the fragile social structure that we have encoded into our lives. How brittle and unsafe it can all be for someone who does not conform to the gender that we were assigned at birth.  

I wanted to look away for so very, very long. To not admit the truth of my nature. But the funny thing about the truth is that it just stays there, even if you don’t believe it. And my truth was that I was trans. My new reality was that no matter how far I go in the journey, no matter how well I might “pass” (even though passing isn’t the goal, it’s being authentic to myself), there will always be people who hate me for existing.  

I was unable to write this yesterday, due to obligations, but I wanted to write about it, nonetheless. Some friends of mine were able to hold a ceremony for the lives of our trans siblings who were taken this year. They got to say their names. They got to hold a candle for these brothers and sisters, dear people whose lives ended because someone decided that they shouldn’t exist.  

These are their names. * 

London Price. 

Lisa Love. 

A’nee Johnson. 

Chyna Long. 

YOKO. 

Sherlyn Marjorie.  

Kylie Monali. 

Luis Angel Diaz Castro. 

Thomas “Tom-Tom” Robertson. 

De’Vonnie J’Rae Johnson. 

Jacob Williamson. 

Chanell Perez Ortiz. 

Ashia Davis. 

Banko Brown. 

Rasheeda “Koko Da Doll” Williams. 

Ashley Burton. 

Tasiyah “Siyah” Woodland. 

Tortuguita. 

Cashay B. Henderson. 

Imanitwitaho Zachee. 

Maria Fer. 

Jasmine “Star” Mack. 

Unique Banks. 

Say these names in your heart. Know that theirs was a life that was beautiful and should not have been taken away by a person with hate in their heart and fear in their mind. Recognize the fact that the largest percentage of these victims were black women by far. The oldest one of them was only 41 years old, 5 years older than me. Most were in their twenties. Some were in their teens. All were beautiful. All were born with innate divinity, the same innate divinity that dwells in each of us, the same image of the transcendent God that created all of us.  

Remember them. Feel the weight of them. It’s a heavy load to bear, and much more than the community can stand. We are in an era of rapidly increasing transphobia. There is a concerted effort to mandate us out of existence legally. I honestly am somewhat afraid of coming home for Christmas this year because of my running into the wrong person while trying to spend time with my loved ones. (Then I remember it will be in Austin, and that’s probably as safe as it gets for gender-nonconforming individuals, and I relax, but it’s still by a slim margin.) 

Before the day of remembrance is Trans Awareness Week. What's funny is before the past couple of years, I would rate everyone’s awareness of transgender people as relatively low, until certain lawmakers decided to make it an enormous issue. The truth of it is that trans people have always existed. We’ve always been there. Going back thousands of years, in cultures all over the globe, you will find trans people in history, if you look for them. Even going back, a couple of decades, yeah, things weren’t great for trans people, but mostly it was because people didn’t know what we were. People lived entire lives, not being free to be themselves. Now, we have people trying to educate people so that kids like me might understand more about themselves, and in response to simply new, better information about transgender identities, people react with hatred.  

The thing about transgender people that I’m learning every day is that they are some of the bravest people I know. It takes bravery to ask yourself the hard questions about your identity. It takes bravery to live authentically as you are meant to be.  

I was afraid that I didn’t have it in me to be brave enough to be trans. 

But it doesn’t matter if I’m brave. It matters that I live. It matters that I exist. I’m extremely lucky, and privileged, to be where I am. To have lived the life I have lived is an extraordinary blessing. To have a family that still loves me and supports me is a blessing beyond measure. To have a partner who is willing to support me is an even greater blessing. So many trans kids and adults don’t have that. So many are turned out into a cold world that doesn’t want to make space for them. So many people would rather we did not exist. 

The truth is, we do exist. And no matter how much they can try to legislate us out of existence, there will always be trans people. That’s the truth that cannot be erased or ignored. Just like I couldn’t ignore the truth about my gender identity, we as a people can’t ignore the hatred and violence that is done to trans people all the time. We cannot ignore the concerted effort by a few hateful individuals whose world is so small they cannot appreciate the infinite amount of beauty that trans people give to the world just by our existence.  

I’m writing this because I want to make sure at the very least that I remember my siblings who have gone before me—those who face hatred and violence because of the small-minded hatred of bigots. Our world is so much more beautiful for us living in it.  

May we one day live in a world where we no longer need to remember the lives of those killed because of anti-transgender hatred.  

_________________________________________________ 

*Names retrieved from https://glaad.org/tdor-memoriam/. 

[riships]

I hate hazbin hotel antis so much.

“it’s so overly sexual” “theres too much cussing”

it is an adult show and it takes place in hell. It is going to have adult topics because it’s not for kids it’s for adults. Yes, minors watch it including myself but it is not for us. It is still for 18+ people. You should expect adult content in adult cartoons like thats just a given that adult stuff will happen.

everyone complaining about hazbin is like my age or younger, and that is kind of annoying like the Internet is not a safe space and please remember that not every piece of content is created for you just because you don’t like shows that very sexual nature or a lot of cuss words doesn’t mean that that show is problematic or bad and doesn’t mean that it has to be cancelled it was not made for you you are not to target audience, so scroll and just don’t interact with content surrounding it and algorithm should stop showing you it maybe instead of complaining about it just it it’s not that hard it’s pretty easy

also another thing that I see with hazbin antis they will always stop on episode four which I understand it does have heavy topics. I was actually watching it with my partner who actually skipped the whole like poison thing because I do find watching that kind of stuff triggering I can read it but I can’t watch it it’s weird so he very nicely enough skipped it for me so I can understand not wanting to watch that. However a lot of people assume after that it’s the whole show when it’s really not. In my opinion, Angel Dusr is a very accurate representation and people also seem to hate him because he is not the “perfect victim” and is hyper sexual and I relate to that because I am hypersexual and I find him very relatable, his relationship with Valentino and his trauma, and the way it presents is relatable to me. I’d say he’s a well done character. I love him. as I said I understand not wanting to watch that scene because I skipped it I get it it is heavy and whenever I do rewatch the show I always skip as soon as Charlie walks into the studio because I don’t wanna see it. These people also do not know the Angel Dust actually vastly improves ever since like after that episode, he gets better and seems to be trying to get redeemed and in one of the episodes he actually stands up to Valentino in a night club and I actually belive Angel will be the next redeemed character. I believe that he will die in season 2 and will be redeemed like Sir Pentious.

you can dislike the show however, maybe learn more about it before you go trashing it and the people who watch it because it isn’t what some people assume

[flower-boi16]

Read your post about the black-and-white nature of the show and I see your point, however, I personally would really like to see how they handled the idea of redemption for characters like Adam and Val. Or at the very least, how Charlie engaged with them in a way that encouraged better behaviors. I think the biggest hurdle to any redemption is that not everyone wants it, you have to convince them or let them get there on their own... but (and I think this is personal based on your own morals/culture) I strongly believe anyone is capable of it. Luckily this is taking place in the afterlife, so people have truly unlimited time to self reflect and get to a point of wanting change.

That being said, I think characters with much graver crimes (Adam and Val) make for a far more interesting story within this topic. Due to the nature of what they've done, they require you to really dive into who they are as people, what their past is (what is informing their decision-making), and, importantly, what "improvement" means for them. I think you can still do this with the current cast too (Angel and Sir Pentious) but we never see it, which is frustrating.

How am I supposed to buy into Sir Pentious' redemption when we have no idea what he did in life to end up in Hell? Angel was a mobster... and yet all he has to do to "redeem" himself is stop taking drugs? What about his victims?

I think redemption should be complex, have many ups and downs, and needs to focus on not just the individual (how they got there) but their victims too (especially their victims, actually). And if the goal isn't redemption, it can still be "improvement" with a focus on getting a person to truly reconcile with the impact of their actions and how they can make better choices in the future.

All that said, it is clear to me (sadly) this show does not want to focus on these topics and dissect them in an interesting way. It teases them, which gets a person like me excited (I love the thought exercise because I do absolutely believe there is good in everyone, that is just my own deeply held belief), but then we get such a lukewarm portrayal of it that barely scratches the surface. Would have really enjoyed seeing the show double down on "yes, everyone can be a target for redemption" and then actually explore the impact of that and how Charlie's little summer camp exercises aren't going to cut it.

It's pretty sad how shallow Hazbin's themes feel when there is so much interesting potential to explore from it. But the show never bothers exploring that potential and chooses the most shallow, surface-level execution of it. Charlie trying to redeem Val and Adam could actually be interesting....but Viv doesn't want to give them any more personality or depth beyond them just being one-dimensional assholes so, ya.

Hazbin's themes feel hollow for many reasons I previously talked about but this is the biggest one; the show barely actually explores them, it only touches the surface and nothing else. In a show all about redemption, it's super funny that most of it isn't even dedicated to redeeming sinners at all.

It's just a shame because Hazbin's message is interesting and sweet, but it never bothers deconstructing that message or exploring what redemption truly means. It only explores the surface-level stuff which makes it feel incredibly hollow.

[fudanshipoe]

dazai/yosano character parallels analysis ★

includes: connection/past with Mori, themes of humanity, dehumanization, life/death, change, and Elise(?)

wc: 1.5k

Beginning with the most glaring similarity, they have a mutual connection with Mori as a mentor figure in their past. (I'm not sure if I would assign the “mentor” role to him for Yosano, but for the lack of a better word, that's what he will be called here </3). He represents an important part of their traumatic pasts but in different ways. I want to stress the importance of understanding that the two of them were abused in different ways because of how Mori himself regarded each of the two, and that this is not to say one was worse than the other. I would also like to negate any argument that Dazai was not abused by Mori, this is false. While that is another topic I want to discuss in the future, I just want to get that out there.

Both are victims of Mori's tactics of controlling abuse and were utilized as tools for his plans. Yosano was used for her ability, as she was useful under Mori's immortal soldier regiment, while Dazai was picked up with the intentions to mentor him as a future successor to Mori because of their shared traits (refer to the 15 quote provided, their “common destiny” is being the Port Mafia boss). The reason I say they are abused in different ways is because of the methods Mori enacts on the both of them. While I don't want to say he respects Dazai more as an individual because of that inherent fear he carries of Dazai, however, I'm not really sure what else to word it as. Dazai is able to carry out a lot of his own volition while under Mori in the Port Mafia, and while he was still in a horrible place under this treatment, he did have some level of freedom on his own because of the way Mori viewed him. Mori recognizes that: one, Dazai lacks morals at this point in his life, two, that he is not loyal to Mori and could take him out at any moment (I would argue that he expects it if anything), and three, that Dazai is an extremely intelligent child beyond his years. Since he recognizes all of these aspects, he still controls Dazai to the degree he acts to everyone else, but he also does not push Dazai too extremely. Of course this is not to say his abuse to Dazai was not harsh, I am trying to compare the way Mori treated Yosano vs Dazai, and how this has affected them individually, not by the severity of either. He noticeably treats Yosano harsher, and he does go as far as to lay a hand on her, in the form of grabbing her hair. While he is not a physically abusive person, instead using psychological methods more often, this is an example of the disregard he has for Yosano as an individual herself. She is diminished to her ability in his eyes, and Dazai is almost akin to a mirror in at least Mori's eyes. Both of these lead into my next point, the way both of them experience dehumanization.

Both Dazai and Yosano are, to some degree, seen as inhuman for their abilities and past sins. This can be seen in something as simple as the names they are given by others in their lives. They are the "Angel of Death" and the "Demon Prodigy." Both of these names assigned to them from those around them serve as stark reminders of their past wrongdoings, to which I will expand upon later. Yosano was essentially forced to play God with countless lives until she created her own undead hell, and this burdens her for the rest of her life. As a result of these events, even though it was not something under her control as an eleven year old child, she is viewed in a vicious light for her ability and involvement. Similarly, Dazai's humanity is disregarded by those around him because of his actions and behaviors, but most importantly, his nature. To follow a commonly stated metaphor in BSD, his blood is mafia black. During his time in the Port Mafia, Dazai racked up a laundry list of crimes, and the methods he used were seen as cruel even by Port Mafia standards. Of course, his actions are not justified by the fact that he is a child during this time. Dazai is very much a person guilty of crimes enacted upon others, so he is not absolved from all agency in this, but it is still important to understand that his actions were heavily for survival and his own self destructive pursuit to find something to live for.

Coming back to these two and their pasts as these inhumane figures, both also go through a series of changes as a person to go on a better path. Dazai himself could care less about good vs bad during his Port Mafia days because there was no person who guided him properly on that course, but once Oda's death sets Dazai's path in stone on the good side. Oda's final request to him is to be on the good side, despite the indifference Dazai harbors. Dazai lives out this path up to the current events of the timeline, and he clearly benefits from being in the Agency. He goes to deliberate lengths to hide from his past as well, he avoids any possible association with that and denies similarities between him and those he has harmed during his Port Mafia days, namely those he hurt, like Akutagawa. At the same time, as I pointed out, Dazai is making the conscious choice to change. Yosano follows this similar path of trying with the Agency because of Fukuzawa and Ranpo picking her up from Mori after the isolation facility. The Agency does not require her for her ability, unlike Mori did, she is more than it. She chooses to continue to save lives with her ability because she so heavily values human life.

And this brings me to my next point, their shared connection with life and death, and their attitudes surrounding it. Both Dazai and Yosano greatly value life, as ridiculous as that sounds for a character like Dazai. Yosano is intrinsically connected to the cycle between life and death because of the nature of her ability. She holds life as having more value than death itself, and she expresses this with her drive to save lives. Dazai does not have the ability to control the cycle itself, but he does have a connection to it through his suicidal nature. He stumbles between the line of living and dying due to his inability to find a purpose to live, but he does appreciate life. Dazai appreciates the way other characters such as Oda live their lives, and the humanity Dazai sees in them. He does not believe there is an inherent value to his own life, but he voices his opinions on the human experience and he admires how others do find a reason to live. Dazai and Yosano's frame of mind surrounding life and death is not the same, however, they do share a mutual value for humanity and life in some fashion, even if Dazai seeks out death more than Yosano ever does.

Now, to address Elise. Her as a topic is separate from the rest only because the connection between her, Dazai, and Yosano is speculation on my part. It is not something observable as fact to canon, unlike something as the two's relationships with Mori or their shared themes. It is clear that Elise is at least partially inspired by an eleven year old Yosano. Before the events of the Great War, Elise is shown to follow orders blindly. She is a subservient ability, and her usual liveliness is not present at this time. This changes after Mori loses Yosano, and Elise behaves like an average child at this point, but the specific traits he takes from Yosano are her willpower and opinionated personality. Another notable detail in Elise's design is her hair bow, which does resembles Yosano's hair pin. This can be attributed to Mori's obsession with Yosano at this age, but I don't believe her likeness to Yosano is only because of that. She also shares traits with Dazai. What I'm referring to his her hair and attitude towards Mori himself. Outside of the time when Elise is based upon someone else, she wears her hair up in a bun. Though she is absent from timeliness between the Great War, we do see her after that, and she now has more open, wavy hair. While you can attribute to this design just for the sake of it, I do think it is interesting to point out this similarity between her and Dazai because Yosano has perfectly straight hair. Elise also chastises Mori, something that Yosano does not do, but Dazai does voice his disapproval of Mori and straight points out his faults, which Elise does too. She also exhibits similar behavior to Dazai in negotiating for what they want, neither lies, and I say this is a trait she got from Dazai only because Yosano does not do this. I think that Mori projects traits of these two onto Elise, a manifestation of his desires, both because of the obsession and because Yosano+Dazai symbolize regret from the past.