#i just can't help but lash out when i'm blamed for the consequences of their actions

[watermelinoe]

Yep, SOME TIFs just hug misogyny wholeheartedly in hope to become like the “bros”. It’s unsettling and disgusting, I don’t feel any pity.

i mean i do feel some pity... there's an andrea dworkin quote, i think from one of her interviews, where she talks about bitterness toward female class traitors. you take it much more personally. from men it's expected. but we expect more from other women. i'm endlessly frustrated with self-hating women and trying to save them from the consequences of their own actions while they claw and curse at you the whole time, and of course i think i know better, of course i have to dismiss her beliefs. i have to understand her misogyny and hate it and somehow not hate her or blame her for it and it's hard, internal work

[multi-fandom-lunatic]

Fitz and Keefe: A Deep(ish) Dive

Sick of the toxic part of the fandom hating on Fitz and idolising Keefe.

Fitz has his flaws, sure, but saying that these flaws ruin his character, especially when he's working on these flaws, is just so devaluing. I honestly think that those Fitz hater extremists are more like Fitz than they realise.

I'm of the belief that Fitz hating started in Exile, when Fitz yelled at Sophie. I will reiterate the obvious: Fitz's dad practically DIED (actually, I'm pretty sure what happened to Alden is regarded worse than death by one of the characters), and Sophie was heavily involved in the situation. While she didn't cause the break, it was really a matter of wrong place wrong time, and Fitz lashed out, saying cruel things to Sophie. But Fitz has apologised. Multiple times, because he understands his lashing out as a mistake, which is what I find the toxic part of the fandom fail to understand. It is 1. a mistake that 2. he's trying to fix. That's more than the Keefster is doing.

Another key moment is with the whole matchmaking drama in Legacy. Sophie refuses to tell Fitz her bio mom and Fitz lashes out and Sophie breaks up with him. No denying that he was in the wrong here, but we also can't deny the nuance that comes with the situation. For one, the matchmaking system carries social consequences to those who don't abide by it. I bet money that Fitz wasn't trying to upset Sophie but rather try to help her not face the social injustices she would. Obviously, this backfires because he goes about it all wrong.

This isn't to say that Fitz didn't do anything wrong. Because that isn't what I'm saying, but rather to consider Fitz more than 'anger issues' (by the way, Fitz is not an embodiment of anger issues and it's upsetting that many use the term so carelessly), and Keefe more than 'perfect guy'. The point is that we shouldn't see things in black and white but rather shades of gray. Fitz has made mistakes, done some bad things, but this doesn't make him a monster, not in his case at least.

Then there's Keefe. Worshipped by the fandom, while his actions affect everyone around him negatively. Come on. You cannot be telling me that Fitz has anger issues and Keefe doesn't when he throws a bowl of stew because he was angry. That isn't anger issues either, by the way, but it's an example of Keefe's temper.

Also Keefe does not learn his lessons. He runs away TWICE, shatters a building but sure. Let's pretend he hasn't done wrong. And all of this is justified, both by Shannon and the toxic fandom, by his parental situation.

I'm not discrediting his mother as the leader of a terrorist organisation. But we shouldn't use this as a JUSTIFICATION but rather an EXPLANATION. To use it as a justification is to excuse his behaviour, which is unfair on those he inflicted harm to. But to use it as an explanation could help us draw conclusions on what is going on in his mind when he makes bad decisions.

Also, keep in mind that this isn't me evaluating who's better for Sophie, because honestly? None of them. I'm a massive believer of aro ace Sophie (as well as Keefitz). But this is more of a dive into their characters.

I really blame a lot of the hate toward Fitz on Shannon, because she insists on feeding in to a false notion that doesn't even make sense (Fitz literally broke in to exile in Neverseen. There is NO WAY he cares THAT much about matchmaking).

And honestly this is why I prefer books 1-3. They remind me why I loved these characters, and any book after feels like Shannon's trying to write them with her biases.

Conclusion: Fitz and Keefe are nuanced characters and their idolising/hating on either is evidence of not using critical thinking skills :P

PS: Give them both therapy.

Anyways I feel the need to ping you, @thesfromhms

[titanicfreija]

"These will be more personal questions, and possibly upsetting."

"Oh-kay?"

"When you die, are you frightened?"

"... No. Haven't had a good reason to be. There's places where I would be, but I haven't been."

"Is it painful?"

"Sometimes. I'm pretty good about dying fast, so not often. Surviving to flee hurts, though. Poor Sunny'll about cry if I do it too much, pretty sure she'd rather repair a corpse than heal a bullet wound that didn't kill me. Don't really blame her, they get pretty ugly. Crucible was hard on both of us for a while, but I'm pretty good at running before my shields break, these days."

"Is there a preferred or most hated death?"

"Ummm. If I've just really gotta die -- I don't like it. Even if it's not painful or scary, it's inconvenient-- but if I've really gotta pick the best and worst, it's Drop Pods and getting sniped by psions."

"You flatter us. Why?"

~

"Drop Pods are so fast they feel more like teleporting than dying. Psion snipers-- there's a few others that do this, but the psions came to mind because of you, I guess-- but so, the ones with the right firepower, I guess they're LFRs , they open whatever they shoot on the first hit. Sometimes it'll take them two, but they bust shield and plate and hit flesh before I can even register I've been shot, too busy reeling and confused, much less can I tell where it came from. Opens my helmet, ruins my visual feed, fucks with my hearing; clears armor off a chunk, at the very least a deep bruise; cripples or takes off a limb. They never kill me outright, though, so it's only going to damage and hurt. A lot. If I move fast enough, can get my barricade up-- and I have to start that as soon as I hear the charge up, I can't wait 'til I've been hit--and they're gonna hit me while I'm doing it-- I can save my ass and Sunny can heal me up before I try to run. Odds are decent that they'll pop me again before I can escape or chase me out of cover and into their allies. Prefer they get me than allies."

"How visceral."

"What's that mean?"

"It means the way you're talking about it makes it easy to imagine."

"Oh. So, yeah, I hate those things. They take juuuuuust long enough to kill me to be particularly memorable, and they're some of the hardest to escape and kill back with any kind of plain reaction-- gotta aim, they usually have friends a lot closer, and just... Yeah."

"Are you ever frightened on the battlefield?"

"... Of what? Consequences of loss, sometimes? Stakes aren't always high, but they get that way."

"Does dying frequently affect your mood?"

"... I get pretty angry after a minute. I'm usually trying to get something done, some loot or clearing somewhere important to Vanguard or civilians, and having to start over or start and stop, any time I can't get a job done when I wanted to, I get. Uh. Mean. And angry."

"It's okay. By the time she's lashing out at me, she's throwing herself into death head first over and over and I can just listen to her scream without having to hit back."

"Oh-ho!"

"Did you just make her laugh?"

"Shh."

"Hmph! Are you concerned for the lives and physical well-being of your Guardian friends?"

"Yeah to an extent. Rise hates being shot. And she's better at helping me up than I am at helping her up, so it's better for her to live than me. It's generally best to keep as many alive and healthy as possible just for the backup."

"What would you say was the worst death you can recall?"

"Woof...."

"I think that one--"

"I'm fine. It bothers Sunny more than me, because of when it happened but I was weak and reloading and a pair of Taken Knights rushed me, screaming fire all over. My shields were hardly up in the first place so it sank in quick and took way too long to kill me. And my own fire made it worse, trying to save me."

"I take it this is the advent featuring the shell with whiskers?"

"Yep. Sank deep. Hurt. Worth it! It's perfect and there's at least ten shaders that fit her look and even more that just look good. You've seen the bouncing and bobbing, we should have named her Bunny. Only thing she really asked me for, and I got it."

"Hmph. Is this pride common in Guardians?"

"I dunno? Probably?"

"Do you feel fear at all?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure why, half the time? And I have a phobia that you will hear nothing more about."

"I already snitched. She defended you."

"I'm still not talking about it."

"Truly?"

"I-- no. Nope. Nope, don't wanna, even if I could, and I can't 'cos my mouth is doing a thing."

"Ha!"

"I know, right? What's it gonna do, kill me?"

"The methane would have."

"True. But nope. Just can't and don't wanna. How about you?"

"..."

"Sorry. Nerves."

"Forgiven. Do I frighten you?"

"Uh... I think the word is intimidating? Imposing? You being in a room makes me want to be smaller."

"I will accept this. Do you fear pain?"

"I mean... Yeah? Certain kinds and levels, I guess, getting shot hurts a lot, but I hardly think about that anymore? It's... No. I don't. I should and I don't. I didn't wanna tell you that but Sunny just 'matted out of my pocket to drive her little eyeball into my visual, and I'm pretty sure that shell is strong enough to beat some dents in."

"Your Ghost intimidates you?"

"I have to live with her. Whole other kind of damage, trauma, and fear."

"She says as though she's not the one that lashes out inappropriately."

"You knock stuff over when you're grumpy, and push stuff off the fridge."

"Freija!"

"You snitched on my thing!"

"Sunny has a temper?"

"Caiatl!"

"I'm not gonna tell you it's worse than mine, but when I piss her off, she punishes me by talking over my head, refusing to help in combat. When we're all but in love, she'll put a requested gun in my hands, but when she's mad at me, she'll put it on the ground nearby. Steps away nearby."

"Can't believe this..."

"Gives me the silent treatment and vague visual cues. The first one that goes is coordinates-- she makes me punch in my own autopilot settings and coordinates. First clue, a thing she does when she's upset and my first chance to apologize, she has a nook on the fridge she runs to. I don't blame her, I am an absolute ass sometimes."

"sometimes!"

"Do Ghosts often "punish" their Guardians?"

"Rex is fuckin' mean. Sorry."

"You also know this Rex."

"Him and his Guardian live with us. Or I live with them. They make me feel bad, won't even be in the same room most of the time, but they're not the worst. I've heard about a hundred year silence, before. One that left hers down, that's probably the worst. I've heard a lot but I don't know how true any of them are. Comfortable guessing the Ghost is at least sometimes in the right."

"Hmph! Would Sunny leave you 'down'?"

"I won't say no, but I will say that if she ever does, I trust that judgement. Whatever I've done, whatever's gone wrong, it'll be for the best."

"Hmph! This is enough. I thank you for your time and honesty, Guardian."

"You're welcome...?"

"Freija...."

"It feels weird to say!"

"Try!"

"She's laughing again, relax."

"She's laughing because she thinks it's funny that I have to beg you to stop being a smartass at the leader of a multigalactic militaristic empire that blows up suns and has the technology to disrupt us!"

"I'm a kinderguardian with a popgun on a private comm channel septillion clicks away. I've also happened to be around for some really shitty days in the last couple years. She doesn't have to hold stature and I'm powerless. She likes that part, that's why she gets to ask all the questions she isn't allowed to ask Zavala no matter how friendly they get."

"That doesn't mean you can be rude!"

"It still feels weird to say!"

"I would allow something more natural if that is what the Guardian would prefer."

"Don't encourage her!"

"Now who's mouthing off the Empress of a multigalactic legion? No problem! Happy to help."

Hard Questions

New Angle

Honest

Radio Chat

Scripted Questions

Battlefield

Fear <-

Enlightening

More like Interrogation

(In)humanity

Underlying

Ghost Affection

@annieruok94 there's multiple again, I'm gonna do links.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 5 of ?)

gif by my literal angel @michaelgreys who keeps blessing us like holy fuck

a/n: all i can say is that this is the hottest one yet. as always, my girl @stxdyblr-2k did an amazing job so i hope you all enjoy :) and i'm still working on requests, tysm for all of them!!

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland

prompt: john just can't help himself when he sees you with someone else.

warnings: nsfw!!! smut, fluff, angst, light praise kink, john fucking adores you and spends a good amount of time with his head between your legs (yes i know!!!!!)

John had spotted you from across the London nightclub, his table tucked into the balcony area, perfectly positioned to survey the entire club. It'd been over a month since he laid eyes on you last. Sometimes, he wondered if it was possible for you to only get more beautiful every time he saw you. He wasn't surprised, as he'd been warned of your presence by Tommy, but he was unable to stop himself from staring at you, hair neatly styled, scarlet velvet dress clinging to every curve, red lipstick emphasizing your lips, a light haze of pink pressed into your cheekbones, lash-line expertly darkened with kohl. You were dancing with one of Isaiah's friends; the young man was tall and muscular -- a blinder foot soldier, John concluded, draining his glass of whiskey, flagging the waiter down for another.

The young lad was smiling down at you. John took a swig from his drink bitterly, the man obviously head over heels, his eyes bright, excitedly glancing from your lips to your figure. John could feel himself cringe; the younger man had all the subtlety and strategy of a malnourished dog. Then again, who could blame the lad? You were an absolute vision, twirling and giggling, off your face on something Michael had brought. John couldn't help but watch, wishing it was him who had caught your attention tonight, wanting to feel your breath fan across his neck, pulling away while you giggled at his blushing arousal; him whisking you to dark corners to steal a moment of quiet.

He'd tried to get over you but he couldn't. He'd been travelling a lot lately, business in Liverpool, Edinburgh and Belfast; yet in every woman who smiled at him, he found himself searching for you in their eyes, their smiles, their laugh. They were all gorgeous, but his heart simply wasn't in it.

Tonight had started off alright, normal Peaky activity. They'd seized the club only a few hours ago, gaining vital territory in London, bagging their place in the opiate trade and a successful business prospect in one fell swoop. By all accounts, John should’ve been happy, but he'd been too lost in his own mind lately to properly take in the consequences of those sleepless nights with the accounting books, all the hours practicing shooting and boxing, all the endless driving, the meetings, the lingering stench of death which clung to his family. Try as he might, he couldn't enjoy himself. His night got worse the second he spotted you; a yearning for you suddenly flooding his veins. It was easy to get on with life when you were hundreds of miles from him, but when you were a flight of stairs away? He knew the club had countless dark passages to hide away with you, multiple cloak rooms with thick brick walls to take you against: he had to stop his mind running wild. He couldn't. That had to be the last time. You were in his past, you had to stay there. But as he watched you dance with the blinder, he could feel the familiar burn of jealousy swell deep within him. The lad was far too close to you for his comfort, practically grazing his hips to yours. John roughly rubbed his jaw at the sight, silently seething to himself in the shadows.

Thomas studied his brother's body language, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, not understanding the fuss around you. Sure, you were pretty enough; you were bright, apparently funny, but you had never caught his attention really. He observed how John's eyes followed your every move, every sway of your hips closely watched as he held his breath, losing himself to you. He was glad he'd prompted Michael to invite you; this was the most attentive he'd seen John in a month. It was no coincidence that he'd dragged you away from Birmingham, from the watching eyes of the city locals, the wagging tongues in the assembly lines, far from Ada. Michael had admitted to Thomas that it was easy to persuade you, promising you a lift in his new car and a night out as Ada had plans with a gentleman. A night of dancing with your favourite lads and an all expenses paid trip to London? You couldn't resist.

John's jaw had tensed and squared, the man murmuring something against your neck causing you to giggle and grasp his collar. Thomas could tell his brother was practically bristling with jealousy. If looks could kill, the young man clinging to your hips would be long dead from the glare unleashed on him by the tallest Shelby brother.

"You gonna sit there useless or are you gonna fucking do something about it, eh?" Tommy inquired, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I can't."

"No one will know." Thomas pointed out, raising a brow, "The Blinders will say fuck all if they see owt. They keep quiet when it's about us Shelby brothers, yeah?"

John glanced at him, eyes slightly widened, confusion furrowing his brows. "You've changed your fuckin' tune."

"Sometimes, it's good to have secrets. What Ada doesn't know about the events of tonight won't hurt her."

"We don't do secrets. We're meant to trust each other." John objected. "We're a family."

"Nothing will change, John. I'll fix it for you, yeah? You've had a rough few weeks, you should reward yourself."

"She's not a fuckin’ prize, Tom."

"Keep talking that shit and people will get the wrong idea, think you love the woman or sommet." Thomas shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, while John's cheeks flared, his eyes flinching to the floor. He smirks to himself. "You going to go get your lass, then?"

John replied wordlessly, standing and downing the rest of his drink, pulling on his suit jacket, straightening his collar. "I'll catch you later, Tom."

********

The lad was nice, his name had long disappeared into the fog of liquor and Tokyo. He was someone's cousin, but he was polite; charming, almost. Most importantly, he wasn't related to your best friend. Not quite a Casanova type like John, but you two were a good match, everyone thought so. You'd seen him a few times now over the past week. He wasn't much of a talker, but he was a good dancer, and sweet after a few pints.

The band started playing a slower song, Isaiah dancing chest to chest with a beautiful girl across from you. You felt your partner place his fingers on the small of your back, his fingers inching lower, pulling you in closer before the two of you were interrupted by a dark figure looming over you.

"Can I cut in, mate?" A strong Birmingham accent sliced through the air, voice low and polite enough, but with a tone that was laced with venom. "Or are you gonna be a dick about it?"

The lad glanced nervously between you two, moving his hands away from you, embarrassed to be caught by his boss in this state, John staring him down. You slowly pulled away from him, turning to face John.

"Or you could ask me to dance yourself, John?"

John silently glared back at you, his mouth tensed into a thin line. He looked momentarily embarrassed, his attention switching back to your dance partner, the rest of lads silently watching, breaths baited, ready to jump in on the action if the moment required it.

"I'm heading off mate, reckon she's a cocktease." Your partner comments, attempting to diffuse the tension, stepping away, not wanting a fight or to piss off his boss. His path was quickly blocked by another blinder. You shot him an apologetic look and took the large hand John was offering you.

"Or, she's just not interested in you," John quipped, smirking, locking his fingers through yours. "You gonna go get your coat while I finish up with your best mate?"

"Thought we were dancing?"

"You can dance as much as you like in the suite, yeah? Proper gramophone. You coming?"

"You just want me on my own."

"Just tired of the distractions." He told you pointedly, skimming his glare over the group of men, standing with baited breath, preparing for it to kick off.

You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hands, slowly heading to the cloakroom, chatting with the attendant as you watched John confront the lad, keeping your distance. His arms were clutching the lad's lapels, snarling in his face before pushing him back. Michael watched from a few steps away, smoking absentmindedly, spine pressed to a pillar, leaving his cousin to sort out whatever offense he believed the man had caused.

You bundled yourself up in your thin coat, a gift from one of the girls you hung around with as she had recently married a blinder and was being spoiled rotten. The coat's flimsy material was going to be useless against the London night. At least you could count on John to keep you warm on the walk back to the hotel. You headed towards the side door, John's hand quickly finding your lower back protectively as he fell into step beside you. He opened the heavy wooden doors for you, the cold air an instant relief from the heat of the nightclub. You turned back as the door closed, catching a glimpse of the boys closing in on the lad, their eyes gleaming with a violent hunger for action.

"He'll be alright. Daft prick just getting put in his place." John said flatly. He seemed bored but watched you anxiously, begging you with his eyes to drop the subject.

"Is the hotel close by?" You asked casually, as the frigid air swirled around your calves, instantly causing you to shiver.

"I'll get us a cab, love, can't have you in those heels trekking halfway across London town." He stepped fearlessly into the road, unbothered about any potential danger or just forgetful from the whiskey. Quickly, a dark cab pulled up to the cobblestone pavement and John helped you in, taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders before climbing in after you.

As the engine started and the car made its way through London's dimly lit streets to Camden, John's hand found its way to your thigh. You glanced at him, his eyes looking away but his thumb angled against his teeth. He was nervous, having not touched you in a month. You crossed your legs, angling them towards him, his hand shifting higher up your thighs, taking a deep sigh of relief. Your hands found his chin in the gloom of the back of the car, only the occasional bright lights from a nightlife hub or the demure lights of a residential illuminating his face, the angles changing as the cab drove on. It was too much. You'd been needing this for the past month, needing him. Your hands laced around the back of his head and you pressed your lips to his for a brief moment, allowing John to pull you deeper into the kiss. It awoke something familiar inside you, something comforting. Kissing John erased all your homesickness. Christ, you had to stop thinking like this.

"You've not been about for a bit, sweetheart. I know we said never again, but I was hoping you'd come by," John muttered, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with yours as he spoke.

"I almost did. The amount of times I nearly visited your office.. I just couldn't do that to you or Ada. Besides, last I heard, you were on tour." You admitted, keeping your voice down to save the cab driver the embarrassment. John caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, tracing the corner of your mouth, prompting a grin from you.

"Last place on earth I'd expected to see you next, it's been hectic my end," He sighed. His eyes were outlined with deep purple smudges of exhaustion, yet he was still devastatingly beautiful even after all the sleepless nights. "It's been too long."

"Not my fault you've been hiding yourself away. You should've called."

"Blame Tommy for that. His solution seems to be sending me on business trips. Trying to make me too tired to handle you." A nervous lick of his lips revealed John’s response to the suggestion that he call you. He wanted to say he would ring next time, but there couldn't be a next time.

"You can barely handle me on a good day, Mr. Shelby."

"Can't blame me. You seen yourself? On the brink as soon as I see you, lass." He teased, earning a gentle shove to the shoulder as you quickly pressed a kiss underneath his chin. You wanted to bring up Thomas' threat, but you bit your tongue, nudging his shin with the toe of your heel in the back of the cab. He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrists lightly. "Behave yourself in front of the nice cabbie, sweetheart."

You soften at his touch, unable to resist reaching to interlock your fingers, squeezing his hands in yours affectionately. The spirits your table had been bringing you all night definitely boosted your confidence, any hesitancy due to potential rejection drowned out. John pressed his lips to your knuckles in response. He seemed different tonight, far more protective and serious than usual. He was so quiet it was strange, usually yapping your ear off, desperate for you to react, treating him to a giggle, a middle finger or a cutting response. You'd also never witnessed him spark off due to someone's interaction with you. Finn had mentioned a week or so back that John had a shouting match with Thomas and in the moment, your name got thrown up in the conversation, resulting in John taking a swing at his big brother out of frustration. It was confusing. He was willing to start fights over you, punch his brother, yet when you two were alone he was uncomfortably quiet, studying you, lost in his thoughts. His silence only made your body long for him, his fingers tracing patterns in your inner thigh. You let out a small whimper into the crook of his neck, as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

The car pulled up outside the hotel, your pulse racing, the anticipation already threatening to make you give in completely to his wishes tonight. You waited as he turned up his collar against the rain, clambering out of the car to open your door, creatively arranging the coat to hover just above both your heads protecting you from the miserable weather. Although John had referred to the building as a hotel, you could instantly tell the manor was some aristocrat's third or fourth home, obviously being rented out or gifted to business partners for trips. It was an imposing grey stone building, exquisitely carved, although not a country estate, the house was just as large. Was John used to this? It hit you all of a sudden that you'd never set foot inside John's home. You'd heard from Ada that it was overrun with hoards of screaming children. She often joked with the children at the Shelby Institute that if they hung around long enough at John's, he'd assume they were one of his offspring. You'd only ever fucked him in a guest bed. The shame made your stomach churn.

You needed to remind yourself of this when your late night thoughts ran rampant. John could say what he liked, but he'd never actually allow you to get overly personal with him. Whatever confusing mess was winding around your skull regarding him was useless; it was best not to think about it. You went to him every time, yet he would've picked another lass tonight, it was just that you were there. He probably had a string of gorgeous women, older, more accomplished, more experienced, more elegant. He could tell you he missed you, but you could never take for granted that he told you this for any other reason than as a prelude to get you in bed with him. You were his gorgeous mess, but only for the night. It was best to remind yourself to care less than he did. It was the easiest solution in the long term; this way, the downfall would be less brutal.

"You alright, love?" He asked suddenly, breaking your train of thought.

"Sorry, I was thinking about work."

He lived around his brothers for long enough, he could smell bullshit. He decided to let it go. It was best to not push it tonight. Just keep it light hearted, easy, like it was always meant to be.

"If your boss keeps being a prick, you tell Ada. She'll sort him out."

"Don't I know it? He can barely open the door before she starts on about workplace ethics." You joked, earning a small smile instead of his usual bright chuckle. "John, what are we doing here?"

"Well I'm about to take you upstairs and sort you out, yeah? You gonna let me look after you?" He asked, stopping you in your tracks by turning you into him, grabbing your wrist.

"You know that isn't what I meant."

"I know. But can we leave it tonight? Can we just have fun?" He questioned, lips ghosting over yours, fixing you with an intense stare.

"It's fun anymore." Your voice cracked, the liquor in your system making it impossible to control your tone or your facial expressions. "It's fucking with my head, John."

"It's just.. fucking difficult. It's fucking difficult because of who we are." He replied firmly but dropped his makeshift coat shelter around your shoulders, freeing his hands to grab your face pulling it to his, the alcohol making him far needier than he usually appeared. "You, my beautiful Y/N, are a fucking losing game. It's not as easy for me, I can't just dance with a woman and get a leg over-"

"I never said you couldn't."

"I know, I.." He gestured vaguely, lifting one of his hands off your cheeks, and you can feel your head nodding in understanding. "You know, I thought I was going to manage it this time. That I wouldn't be a total fuck up, but then you and that lad-"

"Catch you getting jealous over me."

"Fuck off." He let go of you for a split second but you reeled him back in, resting your palms on the chest of his shirt, the soaked material sticking to his skin. You'd struck a nerve. You decided to push him further.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, Mr. Shelby, disappearing across the country for weeks then coming back and telling me you want me all to yourself?" You played with his collar, tugging his face to yours before pulling back at the last possible second, causing him to let out a frustrated groan, hands itching to feel you underneath them.

"Don't fucking wind me up," He snapped, the intensity between you rekindled momentarily.

"It's worked wonders in the past," You replied, barely able to finish your sentence before his mouth was on yours, his fingers tangling into your hair, kissing you properly. Although you'd kissed so many times prior, this one felt so genuine, as though unleashed from its restraints deep within John. You'd never kissed anyone in the rain before in the middle of the night, and it felt magical. You were shivering but hot all over, burning for John to do something, anything. You could feel his cock through his dress pants, hard against you, prompting you to moan into his mouth.

"Fuck’s sake, Y/N," John grunted into your ear, his hands grabbing at your arse. "You're fuckin’ killing me here. I need you, yeah?"

"Tell me how badly." You responded coyly, linking your arms around his neck, ignoring the late night drizzle.

"I'd rather show you. M’gonna take care of you tonight, make up for the month I've been gone."

"Who's saying I've not been taking care of myself?'

He bit his lip in frustration, trying to stop his mind running wild with the image of you in bed, fingers between your thighs, breasts moving as you arched your back, hips lifting off the mattress, moaning as you called his name -- his jaw clenched. "I know what you're doing. You coming up before you catch a chill?"

You shifted your weight away from him, as if considering your options. He knew your answer; you both knew in a few minutes you'd be upstairs practically tearing his shirt off, needing his skin against yours, begging for him. John pulled away from you, dragging you up the winding path to the front door of the manor, opening the door for you, arm wrapping around your waist. His lips met yours, then your collarbones and neck, prompting a breathy giggle and whine as you wound yourself back around him, craving the contact. The manor was plunged in darkness, staff somewhere in the gloom. Your arrival had definitely been noted, but as with everyone who worked for the Shelbys, they just left you to it. It was easier to not get involved, to keep their heads down and not mention the midnight trysts the brothers got up to.

John knew his path, he'd stayed here before. Even in the dark you could tell the house was decorated to spare no expense, the gaudy paintings and sculptures casting strange shadows. He led you up the grand flight of stairs, then another.

"Worse than Thomas' estate, this place." You murmured quietly, unsure of other guests within earshot.

"I could never live like this. I'd never see my brood again. Getting them ready for bed would be one hell of a nightmare." He whispered back, halting your stride by pulling your hips to his, unable to wait any longer.

"John, what if we get caught?" You asked, pressing your hand against his chest with your palm flat.

"Never bothered you before. Thought you liked the fact that anyone could just walk in and see what a pretty little mess you’ve made for me."

You couldn’t help yourself from pressing an affectionate kiss to his mouth, letting him lay you down and pin you to the stairs, the luxuriously thick carpets scraping into your flesh. He cursed under his breath at the sight of you underneath him, pushing your dress up your thighs, lifting your legs to wrap around his neck, pressing a kiss to your flimsy underwear, glancing up to drink you in. The most beautiful woman in his city, begging for him, figure swamped by his coat, rain soaked and shivering, his mouth between her thighs. He ran his tongue slowly across your clothed core, your pleading moans music to his ears, loving how your thighs tightened around his neck. His tongue traced circles over your clit and labia, the friction generated by the lace of your panties pushing you further, your hands knotting into his hair, spine arching against his mouth.

"No one been looking after you while I was gone. eh?" He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh, tugging your panties to the side. "What about your dancing pal?"

"Fuck’s sake, I barely know him, John." You snapped back, teetering on the edge between lust and frustration from his relentless teasing.

"Keep it that way. You don't need ‘im, lass, not while I'm about." He replies before lapping at your slit, interpreting your moans as approval as your head slumped back and you released a low groan. "Y/N, watch me, yeah?"

You pull yourself weakly upwards, propping yourself up in your elbows to be able to look down the staircase at John between your legs in the dark. The view was thrilling, moonlight shining in through the rain on the window, illuminating his face, hair messy and tongue flickering across your clit while he stared up at you, his eyes darkened with lust. You couldn't help but pant, knowing you'd be returning to this moment alone at night, when it was your fingers instead of John's tongue pushing you towards the edge.

"So fuckin' wet and ready for me, aren’t you?" He crooned, sliding his fingers into you, sucking at your clit between flicks of his tongue.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, whimpers leaving your mouth instead, your hips lifting beneath his palms, chest heaving.

"Go on, use your words, clever lass."

"John, fuck.. don't stop," You manage to string together, thoughts too muddled by alcohol and arousal to play hard to get any longer.

"I won't ‘til you cum in my mouth. Need to taste you again, beautiful."

Your head jerked back suddenly as John curled his fingers inside you, pushing up against the spot that made you lose your mind, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, all he could hear except from his blood rushing in his head. Your desperate cries for relief caused his cock to strain against his dress pants, fighting the urge to sort himself out, needing to finish you off. John needed to prove that he could fuck you better than anyone else. He knew he was pushing you to the edge, but he wasn't going to deny you your orgasm. He wanted to make a point with this. His fingers worked faster, his mouth hungry for you, lips moving against your core at a harsh pace.

You groaned loudly, hips bucking involuntarily just to be forced back against the carpet of the staircase. Your breaths grew heavier, warning him how close you were to your peak. John refused to let up, pushing you closer every second, lips latched to your core firmly, lapping up the wetness he'd produced.

"I want to watch you finish." He commanded, you completely at his will now that you'd lost control, lifting your head upwards with the little strength you had left to be able to stare down at his dilated blue eyes. "Good girl. You gonna show me how good I make you feel? You gonna cum for me, doll?"

You couldn't respond, unable to keep your eyes from rolling backwards as you felt yourself suddenly release, John’s name escaping from between your lips, legs shuddering around his neck. He let you ride it out on his tongue, tasting you desperately, watching your expression slowly relax.

Finally, he pulled away from your cunt, unwrapping your legs from his neck. He grabbed your wrist, not letting you retrieve your panties, stuffing them into his trouser pocket. He returned his attention to tracing your slit with the index finger and thumb of his other hand, as he pressed a long kiss to your lips.

"I love how you taste," He murmured against your lips, causing you to flush slightly. John noticed, pressing kisses to your jawbone. "Don't get shy on me now. I've barely started with you. Not even got you to the suite and you've already cum."

He looked so proud of himself, it suddenly clicked for you. He was trying to prove himself to you, for some unknown reason. You know he was protective and quite obviously jealous tonight, but you couldn't believe that John Shelby felt the need to prove that he knew what he was doing, as though you weren't aware. You weren't trekking to his office for mediocre sex. Tonight he let you finish first, no teasing, no denial, no fucking about. Just putting his ability fully on show, so when your mind went drifting it'd go back to him, not some young lad who barely knew what he was doing. His cocky attitude and smug acceptance of his sexual prowess would've been off-putting if it was anyone else, but John, but with his bright smile and constant humour, pulled it off. It was enticing, making your core pool with wetness when he crossed your mind.

"A month is far too long, Mr. Shelby."

"I know, you're practically drooling over me." He teased. He seems a lot more himself than before. He’d been too caught up in his head, too focused on getting you off to enjoy the flirting and teasing. John loved how light-hearted he could be with you. Despite the mess you were both in, it was making you laugh or roll your eyes that soothed his mind. Honestly, if it was just sex he'd have cut you off instantly; he wouldn't have even gone there out of loyalty to Ada. Admittedly, it was your company and presence that had him absolutely on his knees for you, the way he felt understood, less alone in his brother's bullshit, less trapped by his criminal career because you understood. You always had a cutting line, a bright smile just for him, an eye roll at his brothers' daft plans, a choice curse word for Thomas. He didn't even want to consider what would happen after the night ended. He stood, pressing another kiss to your lips as he helped you to your feet, fixing his coat which hung off your shoulders.

"You ready for rounds two through to six?"

"John, you know you won't get through three with me."

"You’re right, you're just too pretty when you’re riding my cock." He teased, the vulgar material of his jibe earning him a joking shove before you curl into his side, letting him escort you up the stairs to the nearest bedroom. He quickly shut the door behind you, scooping you up in his arms, causing you to let out a laugh as he practically tossed you onto the king sized bed, eyes shining with adoration as he looked down at you grinning back up at him.

“You’re something else, John Shelby.”

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi! I'm a female ENFP in high school. For the last couple of months, I've noticed my forming boredom/ dislike/ irritance for my friends, whom I've known for years (INFJ, ISFP). They've always been the same since I've met them and "predictable" to me. Don't like change, quick to jump to conclusions, and I can always guess their actions/responses. They're not horrible people by any means, but I've been noticing how exhausted I get by trying to make conversations fun with them. It's either I initiate it and they keep talking about themselves, or I have to entertain them with either jokes or anecdotes. When I do though, our interactions become memorable. I've noticed they're not that good at initiating conversations or knowing how to lead them. They don't really try either. They're not that great at socializing. As a result, I constantly feel exhausted with my efforts and wish they were more engaging/ "fun". I would appreciate it if they even tried. I've been feeling more annoyed with this trait of theirs that sometimes I just sit silently and wait for them to make an effort in leading a convo. However, I usually get a "I don't know what to say". I can't help but feel disappointed. It makes me feel bad, but I just wish they were more engaging. At this point, I'm considering slowly distancing myself from them. What do you think?

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

Reflect on these questions: Do you believe that people are put on earth for the sole purpose of entertaining you? Do you believe that this world was created just to be your playground? If you walk through life with this egocentric attitude (many people do), you're likely to leave a long trail of broken relationships behind you. It is the road to Si grip. I've seen many enfps run along it, with tragic consequences.

If you are unhappy in life, it is YOUR problem and yours alone. A mature individual would reflect on the true source of their unhappiness and seek out healthy remedies. Blaming people and blowing up your relationships is not healthy behavior.

Boredom is a legitimate emotion. It's there to tell you that life needs some change or improvement. Very simple. Yet, you turn it into something very ugly. You take this innocent emotion and get resentful and angry at others, convincing yourself that they are the problem. Your boredom belongs to you. If you don't learn to take responsibility for your feelings and emotions, you will never have healthy Fi, and that will make it impossible for you to maintain meaningful long-term relationships with people, whether you find them "entertaining" or not.

It's true that sometimes two people aren't a good fit and maybe the relationship shouldn't go on, but usually because they're constantly hurting each other. If the only reason you want to break up the friendship is that you don't like it anymore, it's solely your problem and you shouldn't be blaming anyone. People can make new friends without callously disposing of their old friends like yesterday's trash. You need to put a lot more thought into the standards that you use to judge people and on what basis you set up expectations of them. You seem unreasonable and quite lacking in empathy. I'm not saying you're a bad person. You have some issues and you're psychologically lashing out instead of dealing with them. In other words, you're not exactly great friendship material right now, either.

I will point out what is missing from your calculation. You're so focused on how you feel that you've given little consideration to how your friends feel. If your needs aren't being met, communicate about it responsibly, without blame, and see what can be done about it by working together. If they are true friends, they should be willing to put out some effort if they understand how important it is to you. Have you made your needs understood through good communication? Trying to manipulate the response you want from them isn't the right way. Treating your friends like objects or adversaries isn't healthy.

What do I think? What I think is unimportant. Honestly, if I knew that my friend had no love in their heart for me, that they couldn't accept me as is, that they could only see me in the most negative light, that they were blind to my good qualities, that they had no compassion for my limitations, that they were constantly judging me as inferior to them, that they were only interested in molding me into some false image they constructed of what I should be to entertain them... I wouldn't be able to call it a "friendship". That's just me.

I can't speak for how you will feel in the future looking back on this decision - it's for you to reflect on it. And I can't speak for how your friends will feel about the way you treated them - it's your decision whether to care about how good of a friend you are. Take friendship for granted and you will become a careless friend, which will create exactly the outcome you fear: a life alone and bored.

[yomiurinikei]

Iroha's a kind of ew character for me, honestly. Out of all the voids to survive, LINUJ had to pick Iroha "No Consequences For Her Actions" Nijiue? Like, whenever people criticize her selfish outlook, her fans go "well, you'd act like that too in that situation" and like... Maybe it's true, but that doesn't mean I have to like her for it.

yeah,, also another issue i have with her selfishness is that. she's so open about it, and it never gets acknowledged. emma and hajime are fucking dead and rather than showing concern for the traumatic experience they went through or even being curious abt what it's like, where they are and all that, she just vents and lashes out at them, blaming them (especially emma) for all her issues. the issue with her doing this here is that once again, the others just went through a traumatic event and have said nothing about being mentally in a position where they can handle such strong negativity from iroha, especially not negativity that's just. blatantly openly blaming them. 

there's not much to say for hajime, but let's go over her two most noteworthy interactions with emma and nikei real quick. (Note: i haven't watched either of these scenes recently enough to hav direct quotes still in my mind and don't feel like pulling them up just for quotes)

with emma, i mean their conversation in void theater. there, emma who had once again, just recently died was blamed for iroha getting yelled at by mikado. iroha said that if emma hadn't killed kokoro, she wouldnt be in this position, implying that she would've committed murder,, but it's already been 5 days (that they've been on the island) which is the longest any DR chapter goes for if my memory serves me correctly, and as iroha had no way of knowing kokoro was dying until she was actually dead, you have to wonder if that's the genuine truth, or just her trying to justify her anger. she complains about being told to murder in the next island and not knowing what to do, which implies that she never had a plan in the first place. also, after emma and hajime have just been trying to help her, she snaps at emma for,, extending her lifespan, and is upset that she's getting yelled at for not committing murder, whereas had she gone through with it, she would've fucking died so,, yea generally not the best experience. i'm not saying she has to be grateful or express joy at what emma did but at least not blaming enma for the fact that she (iroha) didn't commit murder would've been nice

(oh now i'm thinking of a au where iroha actually kills someone while emma is in the process of killing kokoro,, that could come out neat)

i'm tired now so thisll be shorter but: in the later scene with nikei, where iroha outright asks him to commit murder, i also. really didn't like that. i can't remember exactly when it happened chronologically so i can't say what nikei and irohas dynamic have been and what nikeis done at this point, but nonetheless. iroha says (once again not a direct quote) something along the lines of “i just don't really feel comfortable going through with murder while you're still alive” which is. yknow, her taking someone she knows to be emotionally unstable and trying to guilt trip him into committing a fucking murder. and once again, she was supposed to have killed someone 5 deaths ago, on the second island. nikei would still be alive then, and so would emma. that just goes to show even more that she never planned on committing murder. anyways, earlier in the chapter 4 VT, we see hajime getting upset with emma when she tries to tell iroha that being dead isn't that bad, to comfort her. hajime says that's like telling her to die, and emma says she didn't mean it like that. after that interaction, iroha gets upset and lashes out at emma as described before. at this point, they're expecting iroha to go and kill next but anyways. iroha in chapter 4 goes and outright tells nikei to go and commit murder, and sees no issue with saying this,, it just shows that she doesn't take responsibility for her actions or the impact they have on others and doesn't care abt any of that as long as she’ll end up better off

idrk how to end this bc i'm mentally. kinda in pain rn, but yeah iroha just blatantly prioritizes herself, how she's feeling and her safety in situations where she either doesn't know she can do that without harming others (the VT) or where she knows she's asking someone else to die for her own safety when she should've been dead long ago, in a situation where she knows what she's asking and that it's wrong (the scene with nikei)

(and a miscellaneous note based on some comment i saw somewhere: we can tell the VT are accurate canonical representations of what the characters would do if in the situation portrayed in VT, proving them a reliable source of information for character analysis)

[zerablackwell]

Chapter 1: Crashing Reality Part 2

Awaking with a start, Zera covered her mouth to muffle her scream. Then she took a moment to try to calm herself, successfully doing so. Realizing she had been crying, Zera wiped her eyes with shaky hands. Her mind was foggy, disoriented, Zera looked from herself to her surroundings to find that she was in the same clothes from classes today and in confusion she looked around to see where she was.

Zera was in her room, she took a pained deep breath, her lungs feeling like they were on fire. Slowly regaining her composure, she took in the comfort of being in her own home. The white walls of her room reflected the sunset shining in through her large windows, her silver sheets slightly messy from her tossing and turning. She tried to think back to her nightmare but could not recall it for the life of her. The only thing that came to mind was amber eyes.

Shaking her head, she focused on her surroundings. Zera sensed her best friend's presence as well as Elijah's. However, she noticed there was someone else in the house, Zera dragged herself out of bed, smoothing out her school uniform. She then walked to the stairs; halfway down she could hear Azazel blowing up on, Zera assumed, his younger brother.

"You irresponsible, annoying little pest!" Azazel screeched at Seth, Zera quietly walked down the stairs, stopping at the door frame of the room. Carefully she peaked in, the supposed adults too busy arguing to notice her snooping. Just as Zera peered in, Azazel had punched Seth square in the jaw, throwing the younger on the floor who then spit out blood.

"Are you done?" Seth hissed angrily, eyes flashing crimson.

Azazel growled and pulled on his jacket to smooth it out, "Now. I am done." His lavender eyes were once again that ice cold blue.

"Good." Seth stood as he wiped the blood from his mouth, "She has a right to know, she isn't a child anymore Azazel." Seth then picked himself up, only a couple inches shorter than his older brother.

"She is my daughter and I will decide when and if she needs to know anything about those-those-" Azazel growled and took a deep breath. "Seth, I am trying very hard to keep my calm."

"She is my niece, and she wants to know everything you are hiding from her. I see it every day, she's constantly distracted, and I've been watching how she behaves towards others."

"Yes, I can see how she speaks to Elijah. We are working on that, but she is none of your concern."

Family is my concern Azazel, you can't keep shutting me out." Seth pleaded, "I just want her to know who she is, where she comes from! She deserves to know!"

"You're playing the same tune Seth, it's getting old. You don't care, you only care about yourself, not the well-being of others. Even if you did, you are only her uncle, I am her father. Her welfare is my responsibility not yours." After this, Azazel began to speak in a foreign tongue, one Zera did not recognize.

They continued to argue in this strange language she had never heard before, and Zera let it continue for a good several minutes before she had enough. Zera walked in and stayed in the doorway, "Father, Seth."

"Zera, you should not be up and about, you need to rest." Azazel huffed as he walked to his daughter who did not budge from the doorway.

"I feel fine, what language was that you were speaking in?" She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning on the door frame.

"Don't fret," Azazel began, but Seth continued.

"Your family's native tongue, the language of angels, it is called Veraiyaka."

She stared blankly at the two, "Why do you know it? You were born a demon, weren't you?" Zera directly asked Seth who merely chuckled.

"I was, but the demon's language wasn't used in heaven. I only ever knew my father's language, I never truly knew my mother's heritage." Seth explained patiently, a hint of delight in his eyes.

Zera nodded slightly, "So they tried to erase your heritage?"

Azazel snickered and hid his mouth with his hand while Seth stayed quiet, a frown growing on his face. He stuttered before clearing his throat to answer, "N-no, no they didn't. Father just..." Seth's voice trailed off, uncertainty in his eyes as the gears seemed to turn in his mind.

"Father just what little brother?" Azazel pressed, smirking deviously. "Why was it that you only knew Veraiyaka? Why you never met Lilith? Why was I the one who had to teach you Raiwadahkre? Or even how to tame your hunger?"

Seth visibly tensed up, "Father was always busy Azazel, you know this. Besides, none of them were familiar with the demons' culture."

"You have always made excuses for him, for the love of- just open your damn eyes Seth!" Azazel snapped, throwing his hands in the air, exasperated.

The green-eyed male began to tear up, clearly trying to calm himself. Zera found the whole interaction between the brothers' confusion and irritating. Azazel wasn't letting up on his little brother, and Seth was just an emotional wreck waiting to explode. She wasn't sure how to keep his walls from crumbling and didn't know how to diffuse the situation. Zera was more comfortable escalating but didn't want to deal with the consequences of doing so.

"Azazel..." Seth's voice was soft and wavered a touch, "Brother, why do you do this? I just want us all together. To put the past behind and start fresh... What is so wrong about doing that"

Azazel's face was void of expression as he spoke in a calm and even tone, "My wife is dead." His eyes turning from lavender to ice cold blue, at this Seth had frozen up. "Mrai sharaiz pehtekwarya Seth."

"May I remind you both that I do not speak that gibberish." Zera chimed in, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently.

Seth cleared his throat, looking from Zera to Azazel, "Should I translate or you?"

Azazel hissed at Seth, "I merely told him I protect my own."

"How truthful was he being there?" Zera asked her uncle who seemed pleased by his answer.

"For the most part, accurate translation."

Zera watched them for a long while before she was satisfied, "Fine, now why don't we keep to English? I'd prefer you to be straightforward. If you hide things from me, I promise I will find out the truth."

"There is nothing to discuss Zera." Azazel shook his head, his lavender eyes showing now tired he was. It was a strange sight for Zera, seeing her father this vulnerable. "Seth was just on his way out, right little brother?"

Seth stared at Azazel for a long while, when Zera was about to say something he spoke up, "No. I'm not leaving, I want to talk, I want to just work things out."

The older male glared, "I'm not talking anymore." With that in Azazel's place was Elijah.

Elijah took his jacket off and set it down on the couch, glaring at his alter's brother. "Seth."

"Bro-"

"I. Am not your brother Seth, Azazel is. Not me." He pointed a finger at Seth, "Now, Azazel does not want you here. Zera is not ready to hear whatever it is you have to say, respect her father's wishes."

"I don't believe you are the one to determine that Elijah." Zera hissed at her guardian, who took a step back. "Not you and not Father. The both of you are withholding information from me, cheating me out of my humanity."

Elijah tensed, Seth stared at them in disbelief, "I'm sorry, they what?"

"I made a deal with Father and Elijah to help me get revenge on my adoptive father and figure out my origins." Zera explained, her eyes never leaving Elijah. "Supposedly, the contract was completed long ago. However, with everything you've informed me with now it appears that I have been deceived. Although, what should I have expected from a pair of demons?"

"So Azazel and Elijah..." He turned to the white-haired male. "You two took her humanity?" Seth's shoulders slumped, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I don't believe that is your place." Elijah huffed, visibly uneasy.

"I'm really wondering what kind of parenting you are doing, I can not believe you!" Seth screeched, he looked at Zera, then back at Elijah. "What would Marnie think of this?"

"She doesn't agree either, but it's all done. Nothing changes what has passed. However, we can attempt to amend those mistakes by telling me the information that I am due." Zera snarled at Elijah.

"Okay we need a breather, need to take a break." Seth stood between the two, he looked at Elijah. "You and Azazel need to stop and look at this whole mess." He then looked at Zera, "You need to think about the way you go about things."

"We are done here, really. Seth. Leave." Elijah demanded, for the first time, Elijah seemed visibly shaken.

"I'll leave, as soon as you two take some time to cool down. Elijah you have to see that this is not healthy and not good for any of you." Seth put a hand on Elijah's shoulder, Zera watched as for the first time Elijah looked completely helpless. It was an unnerving sight, one she did not like. "Elijah really look at this, look where you guys are. Marnie never wanted this, she never wanted you and Azazel to do all this."

Elijah glared, "Don't. Don't use her name. Do not dare. You have no right to use her name."

"Elijah, you're overreacting, Mother is dead, she has been for over a hundred years. It is long past time to move on." Zera huffed loudly, "Mother, I'm sure, is turning over in her grave listening to you both."

"Young lady, watch your tone." Elijah was shaking.

"She was human, humans die. They live short lives, she was going to die no matter what." Zera snapped, "Why are you lashing out at him for talking about her?"

"She is dead because of them!" Elijah began to raise his voice, then covered his mouth.

"What do you mean?" Zera eyed him closely, growling. "John told me she died from giving birth to me, if there is anyone you should blame for her death it is me. Just as John did. Unless there is something you are not telling me."

Seth was at a loss for words, before he could say anything Elijah spat in Raiwadahkre, "Karwajeh chesah ena, tahkreth chesah cha."

"Rai jehkar Elijah." Seth sneered, causing Zera to almost explode.

"What is he lying about then? How did she die?" She screamed at them.

Elijah shook his head, "No." He stood his ground, though Zera could see just one push and he could topple, "Seth...I am begging you..." His eyes watered even as he tried to keep his expression firm, "I am begging you to leave."

There was a long pause between the three parties, a long time passed before Seth broke the silence. "Fine, I'll go. I'll leave for now, but I will not give up on this family." He turned and faced Zera, "I'll see you in school, and I do expect you to do the homework, no excuses."

Before Zera could respond, Seth vanished and she groaned loudly, "I hate

"Zera..." Elijah began, but his voice trailed off.

"Elijah, for the time being, I want nothing to do with you or with Father." She then turned and walked off, leaving Elijah in stunned silence.

Zera made her way over to the backyard, closing the door behind her. She took a deep breath and sat down on the stone steps.

Birds sang in the trees at the edge of the yard, the breeze was light and warm. Sun beamed down on Zera's pale skin and she closed her eyes, taking in the surroundings. With each deep breath, Zera could feel the overwhelming negative emotions slowly subside. The peace did not last long, her thoughts found their way back to Elijah and her father's betrayal. Growling, shadows began to surround her, and a familiar voice chimed in her ear, "Child, if you dwell on this, you'll give them power. Clear you mind in order to keep your eye on the prize."

Looking around, Zera did not see who the voice belonged to, "Who was that?"

"I'm hurt, you've forgotten me already? When you come to me for assistance in finding the truth behind your father's web of lies?" Listening to the disembodied voice, Zera felt a sense of relief overcome.

It seemed like a light bulb went off in Zera, "Luz."

"Correct." He cooed, and it felt like he was practically breathing against her ear, "You did so well with your father and your uncle."

"It wasn't enough." She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, angrily glaring at the grass. The shadows once surrounding her began to recede back into her being and appeared to vanish from sight.

"Give yourself a little more credit, you gained quite a bit of information. Now you need to pull back just a touch, if you dig too deep too fast, then you will set yourself back ten steps." The voice acknowledged and reassured her, Zera let out an irritated sigh. "I understand how difficult it is to be patient, but you must wait. Bide your time then you can get a bigger payout little one."

Zera thought it over for a long moment, "Fine. What plan do you have Luz?"

"The goal is to get you the history that you have been denied, to retrieve the full story we must find Madeline. In order to find Madeline, we must get you into Heaven's record room. That may have hints towards her last known location, considering they do so love to keep tabs on everyone. Only one slight problem."

She sighed, "And pray tell what that problem might be?"

"We need to get you past Archangel Metatron, the scribe of Heaven. He will be guarding it closely; however, if we get past him, we can find the key to answering your mysterious family history."

Zera mulled this information over for a long while before nodding slowly, she had already killed an angel, how much more difficult would an archangel be? "Very well, how do we get into Heaven?"

[scarletttext]

Sometimes I wish I wasn't right and this was all some bullshit nightmare. It always blows up, it always causes damage. And they forget. And they bottle up and take out on me on any chance, and it's actually better that they take it out on me, that way my young brother can be spared. But this shit gets burned in my brain, this shit gets stored inside me like a fucking disease, and the only one to suffer the consequences of THEIR actions... It's me. Because they forget, they brush off, they can't remember the hurtful words they say after the alcohol, they can't remember the gaslighting, the guilt trip, the accusations, the blame that they put on me, I grew up with the guilt for everything. It's actually surprising I haven't gone batshit crazy after everything I've been through, not only with them, but with other people too.

But you know what hurts like shit? I only noticed all this fucked up bullshit when I was forced to think WHY Harley Quinn was my favorite character from DC. And it wasn't because she is cool and a badass. It was because I related to her, it was because I could feel on my skin all the hell she've been put through, I could feel how much she HATED the Joker, but couldn't escape, she wasn't able to run. And I loved her because eventually she got away, eventually someone realised how utterly FUCKED UP was the whole thing with Joker, and decided to write about her, and decided to tell how it was, and decided to give her someone that actually CARES for her. And this thing... It gave me hope, and it kept me going for YEARS, because every fucking day I wanted to escape this hell hole, every fucking day I wanted to run away from it all, to run away from THEM, from my own parents, but to run away from the others as well... Because it's really hard to grow up in abusive situations without having it engraved in you: this is normal. So you gravitate towards these situations, because it's all you've ever known, and this is your normal, fucked up as it is. And it looks like the bad people know this, so they gravitate to you as well. And untill you FINALLY realize that this is all a messy, FUCKED UP LIE, oh well my dear, you've already walked through hell and back, and this fucking bleeding wound might be your last straw. Like it almost was for me.

I talk, and I talk, and I talk. I put things on the reasons to stay alive tag every fucking day, and yeah, it's cool, I am helping people, I can be the hand that I didn't have, I can give someone a little hope everyday. But the truth is that I only have this tag because I've almost killed myself some many times, I've battled every single time, to drop the knife, the blade or whatever, before I hit something vital, before I started bleeding to death, before I actually went through with what my head kept yelling at me, or before dissociation took me away for long enough to go through. And the little control I had only gave me this much, it was only enough to stop me, and then I usually ended up in a mixed state of laughing and crying -and maybe that's another point I can relate to Harley, I know what is like to laugh out of sheer pain and desperation.

And now here I am, filled to the edge with pent up anger for what they did to me, and I FUCKING HATE MYSELF. Because I don't want to lash out, I don't want to cause pain, I don't want to break things and I don't want revenge. FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I JUST WANNA GET OUT! And this sorry excuse of a text is only because I can't scream, this whole shit is only because I don't wanna wallow in self pity for my past. And yes, this shit doesn't have a "message", it has actually nothing for you to read here, I don't even know exactly why I wrote it, I think I just wrote it to talk about traumas, because look at this whole shit. So if you were looking for a positive message, come back tomorrow, for now I'm too busy sulking. Sue me.