#i must feed the young-ins

[azucar-skull]

Me tryna cook up some art for you guys--

[hoodreader]

i think u should get a cat.

adopt don’t shop

LINKS — menu. forms.

these are my natal astrological theories for someone who would enjoy having a pet. this isn’t reserved to cats, it’s for any domestic animal. but this morning, i woke up and saw my cat’s face and said… hm… i need to dedicate something to u.

there’s gon be a lot of text. like a lot. so buckle in! click the Keep Reading button below to unlock the rest of the text. and i hope u enjoy.

History of Animals & Pets in Astrology

in astrology, the house indicator for pets is the sixth house.

the reason why the sixth house is seen for pets is due to the sixth house ruling hierarchy and providing of care. when the domestication of different animals began, it was always rooted in some sort of service. and in my opinion… it was usually some sort of labor or brutality. after all, we must consider mars rejoices in this house.

many animals unconsensually exchanged survivalism for service — with the promise of their physical needs being met, such as shelter/food/water/protection, they provide some sort of task to the humans. but like i said… mars rejoices here. and things being done unconsensually or with force is a martian quality.

so the domestication processes for many animals — if not all — were violent. for horses… they had barbed spikes in their bits and whips on their flanks. they were used for war. on chariots and then horseback. for dogs, they were given companionship given that they murder their own brothers and sisters. for cats, they were kept around if they hunted the pests that came with our young species’ booming agriculture. other animals were domesticated for the purpose of a controlled hunt, or for the purpose of carrying heavy things for us for long periods of time. the sixth house is speciesm — the belief that there is an order of command in the animal kingdom that places humans on top.

then that doesn’t include the breeding for sport. and that also is violent. whether it’s a contest of ability or contest of pedigree. horses get their legs sored — a violent process in which their legs are damaged in order to alter their gate. or animals are purposefully bred to have predispositions to health issues (and illness is ruled by the 6H). dogfights, cockfights, horse nose slitting, and so on. while indigenous peoples globally had much of a better relationship with animals, the dominant culture has brutalized animals since they were able to contain them. there’s a reason why the 6H is the house of both domestication and slavery. and they are two sides of the same coin. but i won’t get into that now.

i also even want to add in the 12H representing large animals and large animals often being used as beasts of burden. burden in the 12H! or pedigrees… which is like animal eugenics. it shows “wealth of bloodline” thus jupiter, but there’s still that saturnian/12H aspect about ancestry. and that martian aspect about how u have to essentially ‘compete’ (through merely existing) to be considered a ‘purebred’ of ur respective breed.

now… as a species, we did eventually come to a consensus on what is an appropriate way to interact with animals. though… many people do not get the memo. people still walk their dogs in 90°F weather when they’re not supposed to. people still neglect to get their pets flea medication routinely. people still hit their pets. and this isn’t a judgement to the ignorant, but a point about how when u base a relationship with another being on ownership (mars rules possession)… it’s easier to leverage their livelihood over them.

that’s why pets are ruled by the malefic sixth house.

for that reason, i don’t recommend getting a pet without educating urself. u should know the ins and outs of the animal u seek because they lose dominion when they live with u. they eat what u choose to feed them, they live where u tell them to, and so on. even just the comfort they give u from being cute or cuddly is a service. so be wise.

Animal Rulership (cont.)

animals in general — 6H, virgo, jupiter, pisces

large animals; outdoors animals — 12H, jupiter, pisces, sagittarius, sun, 9H?

small animals — mercury, virgo, 6H (this includes pests, such as roaches, rats, and bedbugs)

house animals — 4H, 5H, 6H, cancer, moon, mercury, 6H, virgo

insects, arachnids, herpitiles — mercury, scorpio, saturn, aquarius

mammals — moon, cancer, 6H, mercury

aquatic animals — cancer, moon, pisces

beasts of burden — saturn, 12H

burrowing animals — 4H, saturn, scorpio

carnivorous — mars. maybe saturn? i mean he ate his own kids ion think he picky

omnivorous — jupiter? my theory. just because jupiter shows openness.

herbivore — venus, taurus, moon, pisces

Animal Connections

cancer / lunar energy shows fondness for animals. especially cancer ascendants, moons, sixth houses. moon influencing the ascendant or sixth house.

sixth house lord in the fourth house or twelfth house can show familiars. a familiar is a spirit, demon, or alter ego that is closely linked to the person it familiars. it’s often thought that they take the form of animals.

how to determine whether ur pet is a soul mate or familiar will obviously be in the synastry and composite charts. but it’s tricky because most people only have an approximate date of their pets’ astrology charts, especially those who adopt their pets and don’t shop them.

sixth house containing neptune, moon, in cancer, in pisces, having jovial influence shows sensitivity to animals. these people are also very in tune with animal wellness, which is why i recommend veganism, vegetarianism, or ethical meat consumption for them.

jovial influence in the sixth can also show u have a bunch of pets, lol. and jovial plus aquarius energy can show u have strange or relatively uncommon pets, such as an octopus or a madagascan hissing cockroach.

sixth house can show how u get ur pets: lord in the eleventh, maybe it was an organized community event. lord in the third, maybe u was just walking around and saw it. lord in the fourth, maybe it was a childhood pet or family pet that u just took responsibility for. lord aspecting mercury…. maybe u saw them online.

Types of Pets

lastly, i’m going to type in what i think different 6H energies might gravitate towards for pets. read for house lord, planets present, sign, and major aspects made to house lord.

this won’t account for all the nuances (example: a 6H in sag would indicate an adventurous pet but if saturn is there it could show this quality is subdued). just written for fun.

solar — something a bit bougie that stands out. attention needy ass pets. might be talkative pets but then randomly get phases of introversion. enjoys being pet and pampered. could have a golden or bright hue to fur/skin/scales/exoskeleton.

lunar — shy, sensitive, protective, and loyal pets. could see them being a real cuddly though. i really see cats for this. either a silvery / grey type of coloring or something dark and mysterious. might prefer only “their people” but get a bit territorial otherwise. could see aquatic pets here. big watery eyes.

mercurial — chatty, active. a bit of anxiousness. lovesss to play. could love learning tricks too. loves going outside and exploring their immediate environment. i imagine a warm undertone on their coloring. i could see birds here.

venutian — very pretty. maybe food motivated or play motivated. enjoys grooming, might groom themselves rather often. could see someone having a rabbit lol, or another dainty sort of pet. i could see it having many colors! possibly patterns as well.

martian — might be a predatory animal. so for example, a cat. or a scorpion. etc. lurking in the shadows. i could see them also not wanting to be bothered much lol. type to hiss or growl or puff up. irritable. if the mars influence is scorpio, i can see dark coloring, like a black cat. also i could see arthropods and herpitiles, also rats. they’re kinda shamed

jovial — biggg personality. piscean will give sweet watery eyes. emotional. loud… talkative. they themselves can be a bit large for their breed or species, or put on weight easily. they might love freedom or window time. very curious and love to explore. nosy. i can see them also having a large array of coloring. bright and expressive eyes. aquatic pets!

saturnian — dark in color. quiet or simply incapable of making a verbal sound. i could see them loving to sleep or be in solitude a lot. could be on the less cuddly side but still less irritable. might like being under things, like burrowing. might only really have one fave person, but past that… not really tryna interact much. i could see pets that are shamed here too… esp b/c saturn rules shame & exile

that’s all. i hope this was a bit interesting. :P

now… about adopt don’t shop. this is a slogan warning about the dangers of kitten mills and puppy mills from unethical/backyard breeders. there are already millions of houseless animals right now. we don’t need people breeding even more who will end up dumped at overfilled shelters.

and this isn’t limited to dogs or cats. birds, fish, reptiles, insects, and arachnids (and more) are all animals impacted by unethical breeding practices. now personally… i feel like there’s an ethical concern to be raised about all animal breeding (lol). however, if u have to get a pet from a breeding facility, make sure they’re a reputable breeder who ensures a great quality life for their animals. do not get pets from pet stores. i worked at one and had to quit from just how many of their animals died, got sick, or were mishandled.

instead, locate a reputable breeder. check out petfinder, adopt-a-pet, or ur local shelter. and if u have the ability to, maybe give senior, disabled, or shy animals a chance. they have a higher mortality rate in kill shelters because nobody thinks they’re worth the energy.

lastly, i recommend against ‘exotic pets’ or ‘exotic hybrids’ because this just further commodifies animals. not only that but the average person does not have the resources to care for them. which is why so many wolf dogs and bengal or savannah cats end up surrendered!

okay. that’s my political vegan psa. the end.

[bygracealonegirly]

The anniversary of my brother's death is coming up, and 3 years later I'm shocked at how the grief can creep up and swallow me still. If I think about him more than in passing I still weep. I'm still overwhelmed by the absence of his belly laugh and mischievous grin. I still feel rage creep up when I think about how unfair it all is; his 3 young children were too small to have personal memories of him, and must subsist on what we show and tell them. His beloved wife only got 5 years with him total - some people get 60. Our view into God's plan is so narrow, I know, I really do, but still, why him?

CJ was something else. A real gen-u-ine cowboy. Tough hands, crinkly eyes, and an ever present grin. Quite the dancer. A heck of a card player. An even better choir singer. He was never short on jokes or belly laughs. The best darn bow hunting partner I'll ever have. And gosh he loved his wife; the sun rose and set on her from the moment they memorably met (she slapped his rear end on a dare during a rodeo and told him to quote "giddy up cowboy"; they were wed 18 months later). He was an incredibly doting father who insisted on doing the late night feedings because work kept him so busy in the daytime. And most of all he was a true Christian who shared God's Word with most anyone who would listen and loved his neighbors.

Every year I approach being older than he ever was. 24 years and 18 days, 6 hours and 32 minutes (I'm sure Mama knows the seconds.) It's unnatural to grow older than your big brother, and each of us younger siblings marches toward it; my sister surpassed him recently and fell into hysterics once she realized. The clock now looms over me like the shadow of death itself.

It was a farm accident. A freak thing. Everyone tried their best to save him; first his wife, then the neighbors, then local EMTs, a flight nurse and a paramedic, countless nurses and doctors and specialists from The Big City. They all wept with us as he took his final breaths, surrounded by more people than the hospital was technically supposed to let in. It took him an excruciatingly long time to pass on once support was pulled, and his heart only finally slowed and stopped when his wife assured him "I've got this CJ, don't worry, I've got the kids and the cows, you go on home now".

I can't even type that without shaking.

I hardly knew her before they wed, and not much more before he passed away. She became much more than the mother of my nieces in the wake of his death; she's well and truly one of the strongest people I know, and a true sister to me. I'll never be able to thank her enough for giving him peace enough to let go in his final moments. She's not much of a dancer or a card player, and she can't so much as hit the side of a broad barn with a bow, but I like singing with her in church, and she's helping me learn to quilt now.

I read somewhere that grief is just love with no place to go. So tonight as my throat aches with thoughts of CJ, I'll pour out some of this love. Into my dogs, my horses, my plants, my nieces, my sister-in-law, my sister-in-law's new boyfriend, and God, who I know is in control and has a Plan, who has overcome the grave, and whose will I submit to even if at this moment it's painful. Because I know He keeps His promises.

"I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:

And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."

Ride on Cowboy, see you on the other side 💙

[disasterbijamietartt]

Since currently AI writing apps are making lots of fiction writers nervous, I, part-time fiction writer myself, thought I'd try out what they're capable of and got a subscription.

Thanks to a certain TV show I didn't really get around to experiment much during the past month and since I have like 50k AI words left, that I have to use until Wednesday or they're gone, I thought I'd just feed it various random ideas to see what the plot engine comes up with.

And since I'm bad at coming up with names, I just used Roy and Jamie as stand-ins for a mm-romantic comedy in the vein of 90's romantic comedy "Addicted to Love" and this is the first beat it came up with …

"Roy, 38, an aging business executive, and Jamie, 24, an ambitious and rebellious young photographer, had a rivalry going on since high school. Roy was a popular guy who had it all: the looks, the money, the confidence. Jamie was his academic rival, determined to overcome the odds and make something of himself."

Like, how fucking bad was Roy in high school that Jamie could be his academic rival when he was like 4 years old? 🤣🤣🤣 And what an ambitious and hardworking little bebe Jamie must have been to be in high school at such a young age! (We just want to assume Roy didn't stay in high school until he was … 32)

(I mean, it is extra hilarious, since the app full well understood that there was an age gap, and still …)

[jdgo51]

The Platform of Love

Today's inspiration comes from:

The Ins-N-Outs of In-N-Out Burger

by Lynsi Snyder

Editor's note: If you've ever had an In-N-Out burger, you know their dedication to serving really delicious fast food. This year is the 75th anniversary — 75 years of Double Doubles, shakes, and fries... Mmmm! Lynsi Snyder, the owner and President of In-N-Out shares their story in her new book The Ins-N-Outs of In-N-Out Burger. Enjoy this excerpt!

He said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.” — Mark 16:15

"In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how He Himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive." — Acts 20:35

"'Customers often notice Bible verses printed on In-N-Out products, and that practice has a history tied to my good memories about Uncle Rich.

Both Dad and Uncle Rich grew up with some faith in their home. As boys, my grandmother told them about God and taught them how to pray. When they were teens and young men, they wandered from their faith. But in the early 1980s, Rich reconnected with God in a much bigger way. He became an active member of Costa Mesa’s Calvary Chapel, led by Pastor Chuck Smith, and dedicated his life to Jesus. Rich didn’t claim to be perfect. But he finally found that the deep need in his heart could only be satisfied by Jesus and by finding his own identity in Him. I remember my uncle telling me once,

“I’m not always a good Christian, but I’m a Christian.”

In 1985, Rich began printing tiny references to Bible verses on In-N-Out paper goods. It was a way for him to express his faith, and he wanted to put that little touch of faith on our brand. In a 1990 episode of BTV, Rich explained, “I quietly did it a few years ago. I’m a Christian. For those who know me, they definitely know that I’m not perfect and neither is In-N-Out. We are trying to serve our communities and do a good job the best we can. I guess the reason [for the verses] is it’s my way of thanking God for helping In-N-Out so much. I took over In-N-Out when I was twenty-four years old, and for me it was kind of tough. I thank God that He helped me.”

Love God and love other people.

To this day, Revelation 3:20 is discreetly printed on hamburger and cheeseburger bags. Nahum 1:7 is on the Double-Double wrappers. Proverbs 3:5 sits underneath milkshake cups, Isaiah 53 is on certain holiday cups, Isaiah 9:6 is on Christmas cups, and John 3:16 is underneath soda cups. That tradition continues to this day. After I became president, I added Proverbs 24:16 to our fry boats, Luke 6:35 to coffee cups, and John 13:34 to the hot cocoa cups... We never try to force our beliefs on anyone, and customers with any faith tradition, or none, are certainly welcome through our doors. We hire and promote associates and managers who don’t share our faith.

God loves all people, and so do we! My family simply wants our faith to take a meaningful place in everything our company does. The verses act as encouragements.

Always, the goal is to love God and to love other people, and we’ve learned the platform of love is huge.

The feedback we get about the Bible verses is almost always positive. Customers don’t always share our faith, but they appreciate that we’re honest about our own faith journey, and that we want it to be part of the integrity of our company. Many commend our efforts to reach out, care for people, and lead with love.

An awareness of the blessings God has given inspires generosity. I think that was Rich’s intention in 1991, when he began sending In-N-Out Cookout Trailers to the missions around Los Angeles to prepare meals for the unhoused. That’s how the In-N-Out Feed the Homeless Program began, as a quiet way of providing delicious meals for the less fortunate.

We currently serve people involved with the Los Angeles Mission, Ventura Rescue Mission, San Diego Rescue Mission, and Long Beach Mission. These initiatives fit beautifully with part three of our mission statement, which states our purpose to help “communities in our marketplace [become] stronger, safer, and better places to live.” We invite other people to serve alongside us too.

It’s better to give than to receive."'

Rich Snyder on BTV, In-N-Out Archives.

Excerpted with permission from The Ins-N-Outs of In-N-Out Burger by Lynsi Snyder, copyright Lynsi Snyder.

[islucyferal]

My sisters insist that I am not feral. That I was always domesticated, if not always trained.

“You were a demon child, but that’s just how kids are sometimes.” They roll their eyes and move on from the topic, but I cannot shake the feeling.

I watch videos, of people feeding strays. Dogs, and their trust in gentle people who swath them in blankets and take them to the vet. The shaken, confused look on the face of domesticated snakes and rabbits whose owners had overestimated the work and underestimated the effect of “releasing them back to their natural habitat”. It’s the cats that I am drawn to.

Cats are independent creatures, I think that’s why people assume they’ll be alright on their own. And sometimes they are, there’s a part of cats that never forget the hunt. That adapt too easily to being feral. That’s why you have to find kittens when they’re young, so it doesn’t stick and they can be accustomed to humans.

I see a lot of videos of flea baths in bathroom sinks, the kitten is pretty much dunked in water up to their head and they’re almost never happy about it. I think of the years, yes years, and dozens of methods it took to get rid of lice on a squirming child’s head and run my fingers along my scalp out of habit. I remember waking up once to my grandmother cutting my hair on the porch and bolting to the other end of the lawn as I watch someone snip a particularly bad mat out of fur.

Someone points out the nooks and crannies, odds and ends that their feral colony likes to sleep in. A mother hiding her kittens below a deck, a pair that shelter in an old shed, the tom that’s taken over an old lawn chair. I’m reminded of my family’s reprimands and frantic cries after once again sleeping somewhere I shouldn’t- a boat, a cupboard, just underneath a pillow when I was particularly small.

My hissing and growling was met with weird looks rather than the patience of the “owners” of colonies. My silent footsteps and staring eyes were much less endearing than a feline’s. My scratching and biting was (rightly, admittedly) met with anger instead of a “We’ll try again later”.

I think of nights spent wide awake, waiting for the first rays of dawn so I can sneak outside again and sit in the trees. Of afternoons spent hiding in a cluttered room with a blanket blocking any sun from peeking through the window. Of days playing pretend, alone in a yard full of scraps, wondering when I’d have one of those friendships you see on TV where the kids hang out after school and don’t dig in the mud while they chew holes in their shirts.

I believe that I am simply feral, because that is all that makes sense. Feral like the strays that aren’t used to companionship, who observe these aliens from a distance and wonder how they make domestication look easy. What secret they know that helps them hide their fangs and claws. I must believe I am feral, because if my sisters are right and that’s just how kids are sometimes, then I don’t know what else I am.

A feral cat can warm up to humans sometimes. They’ll get used to a routine, they’ll come inside, they’ll seek affection. Just as part of them remembers the hunt, another part remembers the hearth. They’ll never be fully domestic again, though. They simply didn’t get the chance to be, they didn’t have the time to be properly socialized and learn the ins and outs of domesticity.

There’s part of me that wonders if I could be considered feral as a child. There’s part of me that wonders, as I crawl on the roof of the garage to watch the stars, if I can be considered domesticated.

[tlatd]

Invocation

A witch’s first invocation traditionally occurs as they reach the age of majority in their culture. For the purposes of a place such as Carthage, a witch’s first invocation will be during their 18th year. There may be smaller family invocations on said witch’s 18th birthday, but it is most commonly done on their first Imbolc (February 2nd) that they are 18. Before their invocation, young witches may have dabbled in some precursor of their full abilities using the energies provided by older witches in their circle. This would have given them a chance to learn the ins and outs before being given the reins of a greater power source they could tap into after their invocation.

While there are different variations on invocations depending on various cultural interpretations, the initial invocation still features three main parts: the Call, the Offering, and the Acceptance.

The Call For the Call, the witch is either appealing to the power of the natural world, their own ancestral lines, or a member of the unseen world. The Call is an appeal to an audience and a declaration of the witch’s allegiances both by the literal audience watching the witch during the invocation and to the powers they are calling out towards. The words of the call, again, vary with each invocation and should be the crafting of the witch in question, but the points that all examples of the Call must cover are the naming of the intended, the declaration of loyalty, and what the witch intends with their life of magic. Here is an example of a witch making the Call toward nature.

As the earth feeds the root And the root pierces through the earth To the sky grows the tree And the tree bears fruit I take and am sustained by you. Grant me strength Beyond simple existence Let what runs through all around us Course twice through me So that I might provide A guiding hand of Protection For the creation you feed With what you grant me.

Similar things are asked for in the other two invocations, although invocations involving ancestral lines often involve a Naming of Names that can, at times, grow quite tedious both to the speaker and the listeners. As a part of a prepared altar, the witch will have a family book to read aloud from, naming each generation of parents that led to their own existence, making pleas similar to that of the call to nature to be favoured by these ancestors or any others that may hear and know them.

Given their connections to their deceased family members, it is common for the magic of the witches who use this method of first invocation to feel their magic is connected to these people and to feel some guidance from beyond the living world. While this can be a valuable connection and a great source of strength, caution is also advised. The dead are not necessarily who they claim to be, and even if they are, they can still harbour secrets those living may not even fathom.

While both would deny the similarity, this bears a passing resemblance to those that call upon demonic forces. There is no guarantee these forces are who they claim to be, and they also have their own agendas that may want more influence over the magic they grant.

Families in the left path attempt their first invocation by creating a summons for a force already familiar to the family. A circle is formed with symbols and names representing the entity they are calling. While the entity will hear this call if performed correctly, they, if strong enough, may choose to ignore the call. This opens up the possibility of other demons assuming a suitable appearance and answering the call for power.

The Offering The second item all invocations share is the Offering. It is the primary object on the altar created for the invocation. For the natural call, the offering is a symbolic collection of objects representing a cycle of life (for example, an eggshell, pin feathers, a fully formed feather, and bones from a deceased bird). The ancestral witch’s altar features the cup of the blood. Despite unsavoury rumours, the cup is never drunk. All of the familial witches present pricks a finger upon arrival, milking a drop of blood into the cup with the invoking witch adding their own drop last. Witches invoking by calling demonic forces can have a variety of offerings as the offering is tied to whichever force the call is aimed towards. Different things, after all, will appease different demons. These can range from symbols of devotion, material objects to please, or spilled blood of an actual sacrifice, although the latter would denote a Deal also being struck, not something that is typically done during an invocation.

The Acceptance The last aspect of invocation is the proof of acceptance. This can be a simple spell cast at the end of the ceremony to prove that the power of casting separate from the borrowed power of family is now possible. There are some traditional spells commonly used depending on style. Nature witches will often summon a natural occurrence, i.e. isolated rain, wind, or plant growth. Ancestral ceremonies may have a chosen spell each generation has passed down through their family. Left path witches' proof of answer comes in the form of the summoned entity accepting the offer, taking it with them as they vanish from the circle. It is the witch’s duty then to magically break and clear any evidence of the circle.

[futurebird]

The Queen is Dead!

There is this tiresome old trope in any science fiction that deals with ants, (or aliens that are stand-ins for ants or termites or bees or any other eusocial insect,) where the queen dies and then, suddenly none of the workers can function anymore. The workers in this theory of what a "hive mind" is are all just automata that extend the body of the queen. This is, of course, totally backwards. It's the death of human queens that leaves their subjects disoriented. We misperceive the order and smooth functioning of eusocial colonies for authoritarianism. No society could function so well without a tyrant, a single central mind, we assume. A great man or woman who drives their history must exist. This is all human mythology applied to the alien world of ants. What happens when the queen dies? Well let me tell you, because I've seen it happen... sadly. Queens are the longest lived members of ant colonies. So, naturally if you keep ants, you grow attached to the queen. And it's true that without her the colony has no future in the long run for most species of ants (there are exceptions, who can gain new queens, or who have multiple queens... but most ant colony have but one) So, when the queen dies it's sad. But, when she dies the workers ... keep going. You see the advantage of a "hive mind" isn't that there is one central node doing all the thinking, no, the colony is a distributed organism. And when the queen dies it's like menopause for a human body. There will be no new children. (though all eggs and larvae alive when the queen dies will be raised fully.) The ants without a queen continue to care for each other, continue to grow their fungus gardens, or heard aphids, they keep storing seeds and feeding the young. With time, the last of the eggs and brood are raised to be adults. The nest is cleaned and tidy, everyone is fed, with all these tasks done the ants huddle together to conserve energy. They will keep tending the nest and eating when they need to... possibly for years. Menopause isn't the end of an individual life, it's just the closing of a particular door.

I do think ant colonies like this, like my own queen-less colony can seem a little sad. Eggs and larvae and pupae are such joys for ants. They lavish food and attention on their little sisters. No more little sisters means a less active colony, it's like winter has set in permanently. But ants live through winters. Sometimes many winters. If you give a colony in this state brood from another queen they will raise them with great excitement. But there is no peaceful way to move the workers to a colony with a living queen.

This situation happens rarely in the wild. There are so many other things that can kill a colony long before a queen lives so long that she dies of old age. In the wild there are also parasitic species of ants that look for colonies without a queen, or with a queen that is weak and easy to kill. These sneaky queen ants will "steal" a colony. Though, from the perspective of ants without a queen, this is almost a mercy. But, there is none of this... everyone falling over and dying or everyone going crazy you see in stories about hives. The queen is just one part of the colony... a critical part... but still only a part. And each individual ant still has her own life to live.

[tobiotetsu]

strays

chapter two: roll over

pairing: Tojixf!reader, ft Naoya

genre: angst, 18+, NSFW, age gap, cheating, a teaspoon of fluff

Summary: In the jujutsu world, they hate to see a woman thrive. They’d do anything to tie her down to marriage to make her incapable of succeeding. So when the Zen’in clan sees a woman associated with their rival clan, the Gojos, who’s a young successful jujutsu sorcerer capable of creating change in their wicked society, they try to break her down. Unfortunately for the Zen’in’s, their very own stray has his sights set on her.

word count: 3.9k

chapter warnings: grammar errors, naoya being his misogynistic self, mentions of alcohol 

a/n: this chapter is a tad bit short but the next one will be a good one!! also thank you guys for 100 followers. I’m really excited for this fic! as always, feed back is always appreciated. (art used is from @ jj59u on twitter!)

previous ♕ masterlist ♕ next

You admit you may not be the best teacher. You were way too lenient at times and stubborn to the core. The only reason you got into teaching in the first place was because of Satoru. He was the one person in the Gojo clan who seemed to care about your well-being and believed that you could succeed. It took you a while but, you eventually learned the ins and outs of teaching but this.

Making out with your student’s father and wanting more

This, you were sure was the worst thing a teacher could do.

It’s been about 9 hours since your formal introduction with Megumi’s father and you dreaded every minute that passed since. When Gojo revealed your position as Megumi’s teacher the only indication of shock in his face was the slight raise of his eyebrow. As if he wasn’t shoving his tongue down his son’s teacher’s throat just minutes earlier. Your face on the other hand, looked pale as a ghost. Gojo could clearly see the distraught look on your face when introducing yourself so he allowed you to escape after using your obvious fake excuse of feeling under the weather. You knew he would pester you with a million questions the next day but you wanted to get out of that situation as fast as possible.

9:15 am

Bright red numbers lit the clockface that stared at you from your night stan. It’s not like you got any sleep last night but you didn’t want to get out of bed. You knew what awaited you beyond your dorm door. Gojo’s nonstop questioning, Megumi and Maki’s confusion on why you fled the Zen’in estate in a rush, your apparent arranged marriage and Toji Fushiguro.  

You immerse yourself in your blanket as if it was an escape from all the problems laid in front of you. As a knock came from the door, you wrap the blanket tighter around yourself in hopes they’d go away. It must be Gojo ready to bombard you with questions. Once more knocking echoed your room, this one louder and more urgent than the previous. Groggily, you get out of your bed and get reading to yell at Gojo for waking you up.

“Gojo nothing was the matter yesterday, I just wasn’t feeling-” before you could finish your sentence, your met with dark golden eyes, which did not belong to Satoru.

“Sorry, it’s just me,” Maki said flatly. It appeared as if she was doing some morning training, her face was painted a light shade of pink with sweat beads forming beside her brows. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just can't find my glasses anywhere, have you seen them by any chance?”

Whatever drowsiness you were feeling earlier shot out of your system as those words left her mouth. “The glasses that let you see cursed spirits? The ones that Gojo got for you?” Maki cringed at the tone of your voice and replied with a nod.

“I swear I had them last night, but they vanished when I woke up. I’ve been running around all morning trying to find them.” her voice was intertwined with sheer panic. You knew Maki, She was always on top of her game and had her shit together.

“Hey, it’s okay ill help you look for them and if we can’t find then I'll handle Gojo” you purposely relax your voice because you didn’t want her to feel worse than she already did. You lightly grabbed her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze accompanied by a smile, which she returned back. It was then you noticed that her arm was wrapped in cloth with a crimson red dot in the center.

“What happened?” you instinctively move your hand from her shoulder to her arm to examine the wound.

“It’s nothing I must have forgotten to put one of my blades away before bed so it scratched me during the night. No big deal”. She put up a brave front, she always did but, you knew she was still a child. A child who strayed from her family. You were once a 16-year-old stray too, begging for someone to take you in. That feeling didn’t go away even after you met Gojo. Therefore you did everything in your power to make your presence known in her life.

“Why don’t you go visit Shoko to check it out just in case?. Let me change and I’ll meet you there.” She nods at your request and runs in the direction of Shoko’s office.

Your hands rummaged through the closet drawers to find something to suitable change into. A simple pair of joggers and a sweater would suffice for the cool weather. As you turn your head to look outside the window you were reminded of last night. Raindrops decorated the window separating the damp outdoors from yourself.

You hated the rain. All it brought was headaches and gloomy skies. It looked as if a child mixed all their colours on a pallet and smeared them across the sky. Your eyes lingered down a black box with a bow attached to the top that was placed on your window sill. With a frown, you quickly opened your window and looked around for the owner of the mysterious box.

Letting your temptations take over, you grab the box and pried it open. Its contents were of three items. A pair of glasses with one lens shattered, paper smeared with blood and a note which read: “Meet me outside by the back exit of jujutsu tech when you wake up, comply or I’ll cut deeper next time”

You didn’t need any other information. You knew who it was from and who he was referring to.

Naoya was threatening to hurt Maki.

“You look cute when you sleep, it’s nice to know you got something under that kimono” before you could reach him he was already spewing his usual stupidity.

“You hurt her! What the fuck is wrong with you? ” rage taking over your body.

“And if you don’t be a good girl and go through with this marriage, I’ll do worse. Her family doesn’t care about her and you sure aren’t gonna stop me” The venom in his words stung as he believed you couldn’t protect her.

“Fuck you” the pressure from squeezing your fists in your hands created crescent-shaped markings in your palms. You weren’t sure what to do next but you knew that Maki was the priority. “Whatever you do, don’t hurt her again”

“And I won’t, if you agree to the marriage and you behave yourself.” He walked up to you and took your chin in his hand and forcefully pulled your head to look him “If she gets hurt, you’ll only have yourself to blame”

You jerk your head to the side, ridding your face from his grip but he still towered over you.

“We have our engagement accountment tonight at 7, wear a white kimono and behave,” He instructed as if you were his dog, but you suppose that’s what you were to him. “Also, let’s keep this between us, husband to wife”

He left before he could see the disgust on your face. Just the sound of those words was enough to make you sick to your stomach. You rub your temples as you contemplate what to do next.

What could you even do? You got Maki involved in your problems and now her safety is in jeopardy. You could tell Gojo but then what does that make you? You refuse to manifest Naoya’s words. You figure you could get yourself out of this situation but until then you must play the part.

The Zen’in estate was always mesmerizing from the outside. It was almost as large as the school and was littered with beautiful ponds. Whenever you were to drop of Megumi and Maki, you’d always take a minute to admire the grand architecture of such a sorrowful place. It was truly tragic how there was such beauty in the saddest of things, but maybe that was what made it so beautiful in the first place.

You arrived earlier than instructed to show your compliance with the situation. It was better not to anger them in any way, but you were too late to fulfil your wishes when you walked through the door. Naoya’s face was enveloped with disgust as he saw you approach him.

“What are you wearing? I told you to look nice” he said losing the patience he never had.

“I’m sorry it got crumpled, I can’t drive with this thing on” Noaya walked up to you to examine your face.

“And would it kill you to wear some makeup?” A sarcastic smile tugs at your lips wishing you could bite back.

“I am wearing makeup”

A loud scoff escaped Naoya accompanied by a stupid grin on his face as he called for servants to escort you to get ready. “You clearly aren’t wearing enough” were the last words he said as he walked away shaking his head to attend to other affairs.

You were led to a private room by two women to fix your appearance for the evening. One of the women who dressed you seemed to be maybe a few years younger than you and the other being at least 10 years older. They tied your previous let-down hair up into a low bun and decorated it with white flowers and pearls. Your usually bare face was now dusted with a dark rose-toned powder and your lips were painted with a deep red shade. You stared in the mirror as the ladies fix your clothing, foreign to what you see in front of you. This seemingly normal act felt dehumanizing. You never wanted to be someone’s bride, you didn’t want to belong to anyone.

The young lady must have seen your face harden as you scrutinized yourself in the mirror. “You look beautiful y/n san” she sweetly smiled as she fixed your kimono. You nod and thank her for the compliment and continue to watch her. She’s beautiful, maybe 18 or 19 years of age. Your mind wanders to who they would marry her off to if she stays here. If you ran away would another kind young girl be forced into an unwanted marriage for the sake of the Zen’in name? Your thoughts plague your mind deep enough to stop you from forming your forceful smile when the older lady and Naoya’s eyes meet yours through the mirror.

“Would it kill you to smile?” his harsh voice rattles your thoughts.

Yes, it would. I would simply perish if someone believed I actually enjoyed this one bit.

That is what you wanted to say, but with Maki in mind, you held your tongue between your teeth and plastered a fake smile.

The night went on without a hitch, Noaya spoke to his clan and you stood beside him the whole night. Maybe it was the fact that you had been drinking sake on an empty stomach because you were too anxious to eat or this disturbing situation as a whole but you definitely felt sick to your stomach.

“I feel ill, I’m gonna get some air” you whispered to him but he mindlessly nodded in agreement as he was too busy with another conversation.  

Not a single person in the crowded room noticed your absence. They continued on talking and drinking as if there wasn’t a problem in the world. As you walked out of the entrance of the estate you weren’t met with the feeling you were expecting. You thought you’d feel a sense of freedom like you did yesterday, but instead, you felt worse.

Above your head shined stars brighter than you saw in a while. The one good thing about a storm was the calm that accompanied it. Right in front of your feet laid a small pond, its perimeter lined with coral stones. You crouched down to peer at the fishes varying from different sizes and breeds that were swimming in the water. Believe it or not, this is the first thing that caught your eye this entire night. It did not take long for your short-lived silence to come to an end, as a stone was thrown into the previously still water, causing a splash of water to drench your kimono.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw who the poorly aimed throw belonged to. Wearing similar apparel as yesterday, Toji appeared on the opposite side of the pond with a small frown tugging at his lips.

Toji Fushiguro was a prime example of how the saddest of things were the most beautiful. You hadn’t believed that he had genuinely smiled in his life but there he was in front of you with looks compared to a god. His face was honest, always painted with sorrow but it was far more beautiful than anyones’ in the estate.

“What are you doing?” you say as you get up trying to pat the damped area of your outfit dry. It seemed like this man had a niche for finding in the worst places.

“Catchin dinner” Toji slid his hands in his pockets as he walked around the pond to meet you. You hadn’t a clue if he joking or not but a small stress-relieving laugh escaped your lungs.

The frown on his face deepened as he got closer to you. You raised an eyebrow at his change of expression, wanting an explanation.

“You look like shit” You were expecting some type of jab, but not that. Before you could open your mouth to respond he continued “You sick or something?”

You spent hours in a room full of people and not one had noticed your state, but here you were not even a minute with Toji.

“Yeah I'm fine, just drinking on an empty stomach.” it was better to blame your lack of nourishment than to openly show your weakness. He pondered on your response for a minute then traded glances between the entrance doors then back to you.

“Come” he commanded as he took a few steps backwards readying to leave the zen’in estate.

“Uh, I can't leave” you blatantly respond as you look if anyone is around to see you.

“don't worry sweetheart, I’ll return you after. M’just making sure my kid’s teacher doesn’t kick the bucket. It's just food.” And with that, he started to walk expecting you to follow.

It felt as if you were at a crossroads and if you waited too long you’d miss your train. No one even noticed you were gone, you could make it back without them knowing you ever left in the first place.

Toji didn’t look back once, he was confident you were following him and as he turned the corner to leave the estate you were right behind him, face flushed and out of breath as you huff out “You’re buying”

“This damned kimono” you mumbled to yourself as you sit on a bench on the rooftop of a small apartment complex. Toji told you to wait there because you were tipsier than you thought. Knowing your own discomfort with formal clothing you always wore something underneath. You annoyingly pull the white gown off your body and tossed it behind you. You were now clothed with black tights and a tank top. It was quite chilly on the roof but you rather freeze than torture yourself any longer.

Unbeknownst to you, Toji appeared with a small box of takoyaki in one hand and two cups of coffee in the other. He stopped in his tracks as he saw you rip the flowers from your head and shake your hair loose from its bun. You flipped your head upside down to rake your fingers through the tangled mess and as you sat back up your eyes met with Tojis slightly amused green ones.

“It was uncomfortable” your voice comes out suddenly shy as the feeling of embarrassment fills you whole. He nods in acknowledgement as he set down the contents and hands you the lighter cup of coffee. You murmur a thank you and sip on the warm liquid, but instantly regret it. You loved coffee but despised it without any sweetener, the bland drink left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“Oh, here” He deposits 3 yellow sugar packets in your hand. Toji never thought sweetener could make a woman so happy until he saw your excited hands tear open the packets and pour their contents into your paper cup one by one. The poor man gave you a look as if you kicked his puppy.

“God woman, how much sugar do you take?” As those words left his mouth you knew exactly what it meant. “Please do not tell me you drink your coffee black.”

“Well compared you, I care about my blood sugar” he snapped the disposable chopsticks and stuck them in between the fried balls, eyeing you to use them.

“Oh yes, of course, the elderly should take care of their health.” A low chuckle came from the normally daunting man beside you. It was the first time you heard him genuinely laugh. An oddly comforting feeling slowly spread through your body.

“I had Megumi young, so I'm not that old” hearing Megumi's name triggered your brain to bring you back to your reality.

“About that, I wouldn’t have kissed you if I knew you were Megumi's father”

Lie

“I wouldn't want to do that to him as his teacher”

Truth

“It's probably best if we forget that even happened” your hands fumbled with the paper cup laid in your lap. You cared about Megumi more than yourself and it would kill you if you hurt him.

Looking straight ahead into the dark sky, Toji hummed in agreement. The silence between you two seemed deafening as you both stared at the edge of the roof's skyline. You remembered in yesterday's encounter that Toji was not one for small talk. You had to be the one to spark up a conversation.

“I’ve known Megumi for years, why am I only meeting you now?” you tilt your head in his direction waiting for his response.

“He’s better off without me, six eyes took him in when he was a runt and now he’s got you too apparently.” His eyes lazily met yours. His face showed no indication of any feeling toward his son but his hard green eyes told you a different story.

You knew the topic of his father was never Megumi's favourite. He never spoke of his name. The only interaction he had with Toji that you heard of was 2 years ago to settle a dispute between him and the Zen’in clan. Other than that, it was only postcards with bills attached to them or messages relayed to Megumi through Gojo.

“So, you marryin Naoya?” His words unpleasantly cut through your thoughts and made you cringe. “Until I can find a way out of it, yeah” you sighed at the thought of actually going through with the wedding. Your stomach twisted at the thought of being Naoya’s housewife.

“Hey marriage ain't all that bad” you scoffed at his words not caring if he was being sincere or sarcastic.

“Well, were you in love with Megumi's mother?” An honest and innocent question turned the man stone-cold, you seemed to hit a never by mentioning his previous partner. You took his silence as a hint to move on from the topic.

“I hate the idea of marriage. I never imagined myself marrying someone that I loved, let alone being forced to marry a jackass who wants a submissive wife who sits and looks pretty. It’s not me.” Toji let out a small chuckle at your words as he slides his hands out of his pockets.

“So you’re not submissive?” He turned to you, hooking the one arm over the back of the bench “I was convinced you were” His usual cold words were now laced with sultry.

His words caught you off guard causing your cheeks to grow hotter by the second. You let out a sarcastic laugh and faced away to hide the spreading blush on your face. “I bet you would like to know”

This is exactly the opposite of what you should be doing. Just minutes ago, you agreed not to go down this route. You cared about Megumi too much, and unfortunately, at the moment you were engaged. If you messed that up Maki could get hurt.

The back of Toji's index finger on your cheek grabbed your attention and made you turn back to face him. “You cold?” He gathered the hair framing your face and tucked it behind your ear.

“You gonna give me your jacket?”

“Fuck no, it's cold” a small laugh comes out of you. What did you expect from him? “And I almost believed you were a gentleman” you said shaking your head softly.

His hand returned on your face, now his thumb rubbing your cheek as the rest of his fingers rested in the crook of your neck. His touch was intoxicating. You weren’t sober at the moment but if his touches continued you knew you’d be drunk off lust. “You know, if you’re cold you can come warm up in my place.”

“Toji, we cant-” your words died in your throat as his thumb moved from your cheek to your bottom lip. He wiped your smeared lipstick in the corner of your mouth and continued to run his thumb over your lips.

“Come on y/n” He could feel you give into his touch as he said your name for the first time. “We’ll forget it happened, it won't hurt anyone” The composure you held for the last hour had tumbled down fast.

Maybe you were more submissive than you thought. At that moment if he told you to roll over like a dog you would do it without question. You’d do anything he asked if it meant that his hands remained on you.  

The second you nod in agreement, Toji's other hand flew to grab the other side of your face and pulled you into him. Before you knew it, you were sitting on top of him, your legs straddling either side of his him. His lips met yours with neediness. You didn't think it was possible but his kisses kept getting better each time.

One of his hands held your hip and the other travelled up your back to hold the nape of your neck. He gently pulled your hair downwards causing your lips to separate from his. Before you could voice your sudden frustration of the lack of warmth on your lips, Toji planted wet kisses on your neck.

He smiled as the noises of pleasure spewed from above him. He slowly made his way down your neck to your collar bones and the top of your breasts. He switched between small kisses and soft bites as he explored your skin. A cool breeze brushed past the both of you that caused you to shiver. Toji must have sensed it and pulled away from you to look you in your eyes.

“You didn’t answer my question sweetheart, you cold?” you nodded your head faster than he expected you to. With your actions solidifying his desires, a mischievous smirk teased his lips.

“I’ll warm you up”

[taglist: @v3iaris @meepmoop12w ]

[wtfgaylittlezooid]

LETS START WITB THE LORE!!!!!!!!!! I WANNA KNOW I WANNA KNOW I W

AIGHT KEEP IN MIND THIS IS STILL ALL CONCEPT SO.

Basically this world is just. Imagine fantasy. Theres humans and a bunch of nonhuman races. It’s like that. There’s a specific species that can use whatever’s around them to their advantage, like change the state of things. Like water to air. There’s this ONE specific member of that species, one who can change the emotions of humans to a physical state, and that opens the gate for SO much.

A bunch of the other non human races start following this dude. The emotions can be used almost like medicine and can even be used to feed some nonhumans if mixed properly. It’s batshit, and the dude starts to realize that he can USE this following.

So he starts an empire with them. There’s a human empire, and all of them are struggling with scraps while humans flourish, so why not? Empire grows and humans are extremely wary. Extracting emotions if done to an extent leaves them with nothing. Too much of it can break and destroy the brain of a person.

Thankfully, the Emperor doesn’t want war. He reached out to the humans, and they form a truce. No harm on eachother, no extreme emotion theft. They use the physical emotions for research and share what they find with the humans. The humans (who are a MUCH stronger and bigger empire) will offer peace and technology for research. Things go well. The emperor even finds a empress and has a son, and it seems like they can finally thrive.

The Nether Empire even gets special people! The 5 Nobles: The Knight, who defends the empire and the people inside and commands offense, the Preserver, who writes the history of this empire and handles the storage (like the emotions) and conservation of objects of interest, the Alchemist, who leads the research of physical emotion and tests the limits of what can be done with it, the Watcher, who observes the ins and out of the city for anything dangerous or suspicious (the snitch job/hj), and the Collector, who leaves the empire in search of anything of interest and distributes supply and is the head in trade.

However, despite this truce, neither sides feel safe. Both are terrified of the other. Both do not trust the other. Things are tense.

So the Alchemist starts their finest work: the Failsafe. The Failsafe is a formula of potions, one that can transport stuff into what he believes is a dimension hidden between dimensions. It puts the area into a sort of stasis, and with things as tense as they are, it could mean the safety of the empire. The emperor agrees. A vault of the Failsafe is built. One massive enough to take the entire kingdom if it activates. It’s simple to set off: a special pattern known only by the emperor’s family and the nobles must be pressed on the Throne and then a random hidden lever will shown and must be pulled. It takes down the edge, knowing that the empire will be safe if war starts.

Then things sky rocket.

Something happens. Do I know what? Nope! Not yet. Let’s just lie and say it was lost to time for now. The tensions snap, and it escalates into a confrontation into the Nether Emperor’s throne room. The human emperor and a few knights and a general are there. The 5 nobles, the emperor’s son, and the Empress are there. Things escalate. It gets intense. What starts as a tense conversation laced with passive aggression soon teeters on the edge to one wrong word and it’s war.

The son, VERY young at this time, starts freaking out. The Empress leaves him, going to the Emperor in an attempt to get things to cool off. The son panics. He’s not oblivious, he knows what this is going to mean. He doesn’t want war, he doesn’t want to die. So he goes to the throne, and while everyone is distracted by the heat of the argument he inputs the pattern.

The Alchemist notices too late. The way the Failsafe is designed, is not out of convenience or speed. It’s about unpredictability, in the case of a spy or an emperor who isn’t thinking straight.

The lever reveals itself right behind the human king, who is trying to keep his distance from an increasingly agitated Nether Emperor.

He trips.

The Failsafe activates.

However it doesn’t cooperate. The Empire was MUCH bigger than what they had tested on. It doesn’t get sent to paradise, it gets sent to a dimension twisted that seems to be holding on by a tether and could collapse at any moment.

The human emperor panics, and attacks. Their guards follow. However this is in a tiny world now vastly populated by Netherfolk. It isn’t what they’ll know as the Aether anymore, this is the Netherworld. The humans are slain, and now the Empire is dying in a world that isn’t habitable.

The Alchemist is given one last chance as the Empress and the Emperor try to desperately fix this. They end up discovering that emotions can stain objects, and can act almost as tears to the Aether if mixed with strong enough emotion. They find this out with the human emperor’s lantern.

It is given to the Collector, whose role is to go out and collect food and humans for the empire, bringing back people for the Emperor to drain.

Time passes.

The Emperor and the Empress pass. The Empress gets a simple burial, and the Emperor gets his remains grinded up and constructed into 5 badges that allow the wearer to use his ability on human emotions. The son becomes a recluse, never leaving the top room of the castle, never becoming the new Emperor they need.

Things change.

The Collector becomes the Ferryman, the Knight becomes the Ringmaster. All 5 roles begin to become dedicated to keeping a steady inflow of human emotions, as it’s the only thing that this dying world can rely on. The Ringmaster leads the Harvest Carnival, a carnival that is celebrated in the Aetherworld that has the goal of harvesting as many emotions and bodies as possible without leaving a trace nor memory. The Watcher observes, alerting to any Netherfolk who may have tried to sneak to a better world or a human whose gone too wise. The Watcher alerts the Ferryman, who takes care of it and brings the traitors “home.” The preserver preserves the emotions, and the Alchemist works to make the same potions.

The nobles become the 5 Holders, each holding an artifact that allows a connection with the Aetherworld and the support beams of this entire world.

As generations pass, the nonhuman races evolve into something more grotesque as they’re forced to adapt to a world harsher than any other.

And that’s. Basically the whole lore of the Netherworld so far lmao again this is only a concept so it can change

[girlhomosonly]

Nobody’s Fault But Mine [ Original!Percival Graves one-shot ]

I had originally written this back four years ago when the FBAWTFT fandom was in full swing. This one, however, is a rewritten version that was published on a few other sites four months ago. I decided to post it here.

So, with that said. This is the rewritten version of “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” the last moments of Percival Graves.

The room was dark, lacking any source of natural light. Only a dim light was hanging from the ceiling. The prisoner was chained to the wall and was locked in a magic-built cage. The cage itself was not made with typical metal rods but invisible rods that taunted the man. If he somehow escaped his chains, he would not have been able to escape regardless. The magic was specifically constructed to keep him in. One touch could be fatal to his already fragile state.

 It felt like forever ago since he last felt the warmth of the sun. The room itself was damp and cold, his clothes of what was left did not help retain any heat. He wishes he did not take the simple pleasures in life for granted. Percival dearly missed the feeling of the sun enveloping him that almost felt like a loving embrace.

 Percival does not know how long he was imprisoned by the Dark Lord but it truly felt like an eternity.

 The night he was bested by that bastard keeps replaying in his mind. He wishes he can go back to that night. Word got around saying that Gellert Grindelwald was on the prowl and what did the Director of Magical Security, head of MACUSA's Department of Magical Law Enforcement do? He simply walked back home after a long shift at the office with his Elite Aurors. He did not think much of anything out of the ordinary - his home had protective wards after all. Yet, the cunning bastard must have been watching him for months, dare he say years? He was caught off guard and woke up to see a pair of mismatched eyes staring him down.

 Percival thinks of the different ways he should have defended himself. He can say with confidence though, he put up a good fight against the bastard. Until he was shot with an intense cursed spell that should have cost Percival his arm.

 Alas, no matter how he should have gone about the intrusion, he is still here. In this cold, damp room. Where he slumps against the wall, farthest from where Grindelwald would be outside the cage.

 With a wheezy sigh, Percival slumped even more and he decided to just lay down. He winced as his body's wounds and infections screamed in protest at the movement. His eyelids grew heavier, and since there was nothing else to do besides sleep, wait for the Dark Lord to arrive to feed and water him.

 He had been losing hope of getting rescued anyways...

 What?

 Lost hope?

 Percival, if he had the energy, would have cursed himself. His father up above would surely get his wand in a knot if he found out his son was thinking like this. That thought alone made the corner of his lip twitch up in an attempt of a smile.

 Graves worked with wizards and witches that trained and studied vigorously to become Aurors. He personally trained most of the ones on his Elite team back in the day. He was known to be one of the greatest Aurors, incredibly skilled with an honourable sense of justice. His team respected him, as well as his long-time dear friend and boss Madame President.

 Considering they were up against a madman, he understood that his people would need time to figure out the Grindelwald imposter.

 Surely, Miss Porpentina Goldstein unravelled this dilemma. She was headstrong and a valiant Auror. There was no doubt she would have suspected something out of the ordinary by now.

 The young woman reminded him so much of himself. The main focal point of taking Goldstein under his wing. At the beginning of her training days, she already had a strong desire to stand up for what is right, sought justice with her people, her community just like he had. Percival knew she would one day be an excellent addition to his team, not to say he already saw a huge amount of potential in her. Which is why he pushed her harder than anyone else. He is certain Goldstein will surpass him and succeed in this career far more than he could.

 Restoring his dwindling faith, his eyes finally shut and he fell into a dreamless slumber.

 Days passed him by.

 And he wondered why Grindelwald did not show.

 Eventually, he stopped feeling the hunger pangs. However, every movement jostled Percival's already disgruntled body, driving needles and pins throughout his body, his back, his skull... everywhere. It even felt like his bones were aching.

 Wallowing in his seemingly never-ending pain, he did not hear shuffling in the darker part of the room. It was only when a sound coming from the cage did the man put his guards up. The sudden sound of the invisible cage zapping something. There were no sounds of distress or pain following.

 "W-Why did you lie to me?" The voice was soft yet held betrayal and hurt within its tone.

 Turning his head to the source, he instantly froze.

 Credence.

 Struggling to get up, he saw the same pale young boy but this time there was black smoke surrounding him, flecks that strayed too far from the boy descended to the floor. His eyes were white, dark circles hung below his more sculpted face.

 The boy's voice cracked. "You hurt me. They are gone because of me." 

 "I know, my boy. I know. I apologize, I-I promised to teach you." Percival's words were hushed, having needed more energy to speak. His face scrunched up, tears stinging at his eyes.

 Was it his time already? He has never had hallucinations before.

 "You are a coward. Who is weak and useless." Credence hissed venomously.

 "I failed you-"

 "You promised me, Mr. Graves!" roared Credence.

 Percival shut his eyes tightly, emotional and physical pain washing over him, overwhelming him. He uttered to himself, apologizing for being such an incompetent wizard, for letting this young boy down...

 He did not know when the hallucination of Credence subsided but the words still echoed through his mind.

 Coward.

 Weak.

 Useless.

 Was he truly what Credence said? Possibly. He would not be here if he wasn't. However, the words cut harder than he thought. He wondered what his Aurors would think of him when he was found.

 Would he ever be trusted again to be their Director?

 Madam President Seraphina, one of his oldest and dearest friends. She must be so disappointed. His underling, Tina Goldstein must be mortified with the fact the "greatest" wizard in her department was so easily defeated. Credence must have been so hurt when Percival stopped showing up on Tina's behalf.

 His pain was steadily going away.

 It brought him some comfort, he will only be dealing with his emotional turmoil.

 Or...

 Nothing at all...

 He realized he found it difficult to keep himself conscious.

 "I suppose... no... Nobody's fault. Bu- but mmm...ine."

 And just as Percival Graves exhaled his last breath, a loud rumbling noise and lights came flooding into the room. Voices of people talking in ushered tones as magic spelled around him...

 Rescuers.

[eugenesmorphine]

Hey ,could you do some Ronald Speirs with a girl in the town the company had liberated or something like that please💕💕💕

Eternal Gratitude // Ronald Speirs Imagine

AN: I am back with this imagine for the first one! I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @punkgeekcryptid @ricksmorty @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @valterras @adamantiumdragonfly

Word Count:  2,114

Ronald marched through the small town. His boots crunching over shattered glass from broken windows and pottery that came from the ruins of houses. German artillery fire was not kind to places within France. And this little city was not apart from it. He looked around as he lifted his helmet slightly to wipe the sweat from his brow. It was quiet. But the city was liberated. People of the French city were outside hugging each other, handing beers to one another, even hanging the French flag and pulling down the Nazi flags. Kids dancing all over them. Some of the women tear them up with scissors and kitchen knives. Tossing the scraps into piles while many others through them into even bigger piles and lit them aflame. Ronald chuckled as he made his rounds. Snagging a few silver spoons he found around the ground. Even snagging a Nazi flag for a souvenier from one the little kids. Patting them roughly on the head as he walked on.

Captain Speirs watched around as the paratroopers seemed to be praised and worshipped the ground that seemed to walk on, as they saved them from the horrible Nazis. Older women kissing their cheeks and handing them  food and drinks. Even some warm blankets. While many of the younger women threw themselves at them. Ronald scoffed as he saw some of them, one of which being Floyd Talbert, full on making out with one French girl. A few had even walked up and kissed Ronald on his lips like they did to every other man they had kissed. He would never admit it but it would make him blush no doubt. 

The officer couldn’t say he was complaining. He was making a killing with all the silber he was snatching and even many just handed to him. His stomach was full with all this nice food. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a nice warm, proper meal. And half the food he never even heard of. Yet again, Ronald Speirs wasn’t complaining. 

He walked through the crowded streets to the aid station they had temporarily set up. Humming as he did so. Pacing his steps as he peered above the heads of the crowd. He saw Eugene, yet he saw a female there with him he never saw before. Not even when they first set it up. Raising his eyebrow he quickened his steps. And soon Ronald reached the aid station. Seeing the female now closer. She was young, and definitely pretty. Even with dust from the ruined buildings around her. A small scarf pulled her hair back out of her face, wholsts a blue dress she wore with an apron around. The familiar crimson  color stained it. Seeming to be a nurse. Or just some woman helping the soldiers. A rifle stayed hung to her shoulder. Which made Ronald a bit uneasy, but he thought back. She was probably just worried. 

“Doc, who is this?” he asked the medic. Who looked up at him, and so did the nurse. Ronald eyed the woman. Eugene stood and looked at the officer in front of him.

“Sir this is, miss Y/N L/N. She speaks English pretty well and she gave me some medical supplies and has been helping me with the casualties and wounded, sir,” he said to him. Standing up straight. Speirs nodded and slowly approached the woman. Taking his helmet off in respect. Looking down at her slightly.

“How are you?” he asked. Starting off nice. Ronald was a difficult man to understand. Anyone knew that. And this girl would be no different. She tilted her head to the side slightly as she gave a small nod. 

She smiled softly. “I am more than happy, sir. You’ve liberated us, we are finally free!” she exclaimed. Grabbing his hands. Her hands were cold and calloused. Clear that she hadn’t been sitting and staying this entire time. Her eyes had bags that were dark purple. Clear of sleepless nights that many of his own men suffered from. Though her smile was wide and her eyes filled with happiness and hope. “I see you are one of the leading officers, please let me make you some dinner and give you a bed to lay in. Many of my people are opening the Ins and our homes to you soldiers. I have given many medical supplies and patched up some of your men. But there is so much more I can do!” she began to shake his hands. Her accent was thick, but her words were still understandable. Though, before he could protest, she was already pulling him along. Leaving a few other officers laughing.

“Lady, you really don’t have to do this. Truly, I can go bunk with the others,” he tried to resist. He was kind of excited for a nice meal. And even his own warm bed. But it also seemed wrong to be in the same situation. Yet he was already being pushed into her home. He sighed and looked around. He was thankful, and he wasn’t a total terrifying man when it came to the citizens he protected. Plus, they worshiped the paratroopers, and they would be moving out in a few days anyways.

“Nonsense! You saved us from the Germans! Your men will have a nice place to stay until you must leave!” she told him. Pushing the stalky soldier through a door of a small building. “Mr. Army man, welcome to my home. These are my mother and father!” she said softly. Holding her arms out to an older couple that sat at a small chair. “Mère père. C'est l'un des soldats qui nous a sauvés,” (Mother, father. This is one of the soldiers that saved us.) The older woman clapped her hands together and stood. Waddling over and grabbing Ronald’s hands. Kissing his dirt and blood covered hands. Mumbling “thank you” over and over again, looking nearly in tears. The older man had a small paddy cap on and walked over to shake his hand and pat him on the back. And before he even knew it, Ronald was sitting down with a plate of steaming food in front of him. The young girl he thought remembered to be named ‘Y/N’ was taking her rifle off her shoulder and setting it to the side on a small table. Ronald kept glancing over at her as she communicated with her mother from time to time.

Food kept being placed in front of him. Fresh food that was hot and not just some slop or some half frozen and rotten food within the meal packs the government. Y/N stood and was speaking to her parents and being a translator for her two parents as they asked him question after question. Praise after praise. That went on until long after dark. The two parents soon went to bed, leaving Ronald and Y/N alone as she cleaned up dishes. Her weapon lay flat on the table. But the ammunition stayed in her trouser pockets. Something Ronald noticed. It made her seem smart. Which she definitely was. 

“So.. After hearing your parents talk my ear off all night long. How about you tell me about yourself?” Ronald asked. Setting his helmet down on the old wooden table. Y/N turned around and leaned against the marble counter she had. A small smile on her face. 

“There isn’t much to know about me. Just a simple French girl that was so happily liberated by the Americans. I’ve lived her all my life with my parents, and when you came and saved our city. All I wanted to do was repay my thankfulness back to you Americans,” she responded. Her accent was thick. Yet her words are clear. You could just see the pureness radiating off of her. Ronald chuckled slightly and nodded his head. Standing up to stretch his legs. 

“Can you show me where I am sleeping? It is past midnight by now,” he sighed. Scratching the back of his neck lightly. Y/N smiled softly as nodded. Beginning to make her way up the stairs in her home, Ronald trailed behind her. She hummed a soft lullaby as she walked. Her and Ronald’s footstep against the old hardwood flooring echoing throughout the quiet house. The two stayed silent. Until they reached the room.

“Here, it has a bed, a dresser. And the bathroom is just across the hall,” she whispered with a soft smile. Ronald smiled and went to place her stuff onto the floor besides the bed. Dropping his bag, his weapon sitting on the bed where he could see and reach. His helmet going on the small nightstand besides the bed. Looking over to the women who stood in the doorway. 

“Is there.. Uh- anything I can help you with?” Ronald asked, a little confused at why she was staring at him. The same soft expression on her face. Y/N took a few steps into the room and approached him. Ronald stiffened, a little confused on what was actually going on. Y/N took a few steps forward, now standing in front of him. 

“Hold your hand out,” she said. Ronald stared at her questioningly. Definitely hesitating. Kyra laughed softly as she rolled her eyes. “Just do it, I’m not some Nazi,” she huffed. Eonald then chuckled himself and nodded. Extending his palm out towards the young women and watching her closely. 

Kyra’s hand went into his. Dropping in a hand an old pocket watch. Still shining and ticking. She had gotten it passed down from her grandfather. “This is for you. You saved my family and friends. My parents and I are very grateful for you leading your men here to save us from the Germans,” she told him. She stumbled every so often to search for correct words/ But her voice was a whisper. And the Captain in front of her was almost in shock. A family heirloom just given to him. Usually he stole these kinds of things from the German soldiers, or abandoned places. But this, the watch was just given to him. Y/N just smiled and let out a quiet laugh.

“You can sell it, or keep it to remember our eternal gratitude. Whatever you would like to do with it. It isn’t much, we wish we could feed more of your men and give more supplies. But maybe you could get some money for that watch,” she shrugged. Ronald gave a slight nod as he stared at the silver and gold pocket watch within his dirty and calloused hands. He was just in awe. Like he felt unworthy to take it. Even with his own morals, it was just.. So nice. 

“Oh and also,” Ronald snapped his head up at the sound of her voice. The H/C haired women took a few steps forward. A small smile curling on her lips as she walked over to him. Bending down slightly and Ronald froze slightly. She leaned and pressed her lips to the corner of his lips. “And that is a personal thank you from me. I find you quite handsome,” Y/N laughed, standing up straight and turning around. Ronald slowly raised a hand to the corner of his lips that hers touched gently. Watching her, almost awestruck or in shock. He never really got this way. He, himself, was usually the womanizer it seemed.

“I’ll let you get some sleep, Captain Speirs. Breakfast will be made in the morning,” she told him while walking out of the bedroom. Turning with a smile as she began to close the door. A small wave she shot him before shutting the door completely. Her footsteps being heard within the quiet home as they pressed against the old, creaky floorboards.The room falling dark besides the moonlight shining through the sheer curtains within the room. 

Ronald just went to lay on the bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept on an actually comfortable mattress. Not some old, shitty cots, a foxhole, or god knows what else he used to sleep on. But settling himself down on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling. The corner of his mouth slightly tingled at the sensation of where her lips had been. His cheeks reddening as he thought about the brief moment they had just shared. Was it even a moment? Could it be called that? He had know idea, he shouldn’t have even been thinking of her like that. Running his fingers over the cool material of the pocket watch. Shutting his eyes after taking a long deep breath. Making the quick decision. He would never be getting rid of that watch.

[bumpscosity]

I could remake my meebas and make them a hit.

The little screen comes off and can go on a wristband thing and when you walk it’s like playing with them but you can still feed them and play minigames and stuff but at the end of the day you put the screen back onto the pod and essentially all the points get tallied and that’s when the meeba evolves if it’s gained enough points and then once it’s max level the my meeba thing happens where the pod opens up and the plush comes out the top.

You can connect the pods either via Bluetooth or cord to eachother and your meebas can play together. After they’ve max evolved you can connect your meeba to an app via a QR code it has on its tag or something to keep playing games with it. Also if you put the plush back in the pod there’s a chance it’ll have a baby who’s like a different species kinda and it’s max state is still little and in the screen, maybe it connects to the app too and the app lets the parent and the child interact.

The idea of the old character designs worked but they ended up looking cheap, the different kinds of pods should have more clear themes, maybe one looks like amebas and sciencey and another is very techy and robotic and another is more animalistic, maybe even one that looks like plants/flowers or abstract shapes. A dinosaur line is a must have because dinosaurs are awesome and also always sell.

The downfall of the OG is that it was pretty much exclusively marketing for young girls, who definitely didn’t have the money to spend on a ton of them nor did they care abt them for long enough to save up, they need to market to everyone from little girls to toy collections to adults who are nostalgic for digital pets. Something that could help with that is the introduction of chase variant pets that aren’t on any of the official lists or marketing, make them collectible! Tie-ins with other brands can extend it even further! A shopkins line perhaps? Maybe even sanrio or Nintendo if they got popular enough?

[nightwingmyboi]

I'll always remember Devin Grayson as the woman who wrote Nightwing getting raped by a supervillain and then tried to pass it off as "wasn't rape, just nonconsensual"...which is LITERALLY THE DEFINITION OF RAPE, YOU HACK!

MSL: Male rape is a topic rarely touched on in comics. Why is it suited to bring it into Nightwing?

DEVIN GRAYSON: For the record, I’ve never used the word “rape,” I just said it was nonconsensual (I know, aren’t writers frustrating? *smiles*) [x] 

Yeah there is no other word for what happened in Nightwing #93 other than rape...I can’t imagine why she would say otherwise. She did technically apologize, but that was ten or so years later. So she eventually, finally did come out and just admit what everyone already knew, but she was still way too late to actually fix any of the damage she caused with how she completely mishandled things. I also don’t think her little apology begins to cover all the issues I have with her. 

Devin’s characterization of Dick is just so, so freaking twisted to me. Really, I don’t think there is a Nightwing writer I despise more than Devin Grayson. The interviews I’ve read from her give me the creeps:

DG: The way I think about him [Dick], he likes everyone, he’s sort of a contact junkie - just this incredibly physical (and attractive) person who lives wholly in the corporeal plane and responds with - processes things in - his body before his head or heart. I imagine that he can be hypnotized by a touch the way other people can be stopped dead in their tracks by the sight of money or the promise of true love. I think he likes kicking and kissing in almost equal measure - except kissing edges out ahead because you can do it for longer and it leads to nicer things. [x]

Yeah that’s fucking unsettling. This is Devin being gross and projecting her sexual fantasy’s onto Dick. And she very much invented this extreme view of Dick as obsessively physical. Pre-52 Dick was always written as a master strategist, an unparalleled leader, one of the best detectives in the world, outside of Devin’s writing. Her fantasy version of Dick doesn’t mesh with that...Dick wouldn’t be capable leader if he’s “thinking with his body” (whatever that means) all the time. He’s survived this long because he’s intelligent and logical. Frankly, Devin’s take on things doesn’t even make any freaking sense. But it gets worse: 

DDG: I’m writing a novel for WB right now that he’s in and I have one scene where Batman has to stop a fight before it gets out of control, and most of the people he can just yell or glare at, but with Dick, he just stands really close behind him and Dick freezes. That’s not supposed to be a sexual thing (though it is kinda hot! ::laughs::), it’s an understanding on Bruce’s part that his physical proximity will speak just as quickly and loudly to Dick as his voice, maybe even be processed faster.

What the actual fuck. You’ve probably guessed it based on how that little scenario played out. Devin ships Dick with Bruce. 

DG: And now think about being a very physical and naturally gregarious and loving person and growing up with someone like Bruce. Then add in the confusion about his status - a “ward” is something you stop being the minute you turn eighteen. Having already lost his parents and then hurling into adolescence at the speed he did...in my personal version of the story, he develops sexual desire and social anxiety about the future at the same time, and this leads to tremendous confusion, on his part, about his role in Bruce’s life. He can’t be a ward forever, in the back of his head he knows he won’t be Robin forever...what is he to this man who is at once his best friend and personal savior, personal god? “Son” is what they eventually settle on, but I think when Dick was in his late teens, the idea of “lover” must have run through his mind (which means, really, as we’ve already discussed, it ran through his body).

Wild that Dick is usually written as incredibly intelligent and emotionally cognizant (was able to puzzle out Damian’s complex motivations and needs when no one else in Damian’s life could for example) and yet Devin thinks he’s not able to sort out that he’s not supposed to make sexual advances towards his father. And by wild I mean stupid as fuck. And, just fyi, Devin goes with the version of events where Bruce took Dick in when he was eight years old! So he’s pretty fucking young when this is all happening! Just when you thought it couldn’t get more disgusting. 

Eventually, much later, Dick gets distracted by other relationships and is able to ease up enough on Bruce for Bruce to relax into his own comfort-level of kindness and affection again (once the threat of sexuality has been removed) and they carry on more or less unharmed. But the relationship remains incredibly powerful and intense for Dick, who ends up feeling apologetic, rejected, and confused on top of all the other issues we already know exist between the two of them. Dick responds to Bruce - or really I should say Batman, since that’s who his relationship is with - on every single level.

So, according to Devin, Dick views Bruce as his “personal god” and is incredibly submissive to and possessive of him. That’s why Devin’s writing is littered with scenes like this: 

Gotham Knights #17

Where Dick acts incredibly awkward and “apologetic” about dating Barbara, because of how he previously made sexual advances towards Bruce in Devin’s fantasy world. Also with Devin, Dick spends a lot of his time stuttering every time Bruce is in the room, even though he’s usually a smooth talker, very chatty, and that’s because of the supposed “intensity” of Bruce and Dick’s relationship. And then there are scenes like this: 

Gotham Knights #18

Where Dick uncharacteristically and disproportionately loses his cool at the slightest insinuation against Bruce and is reduced to an angry hot head. Dick has been noted to be incredibly level headed; he’s also famous for being a mediator among the hero community...this behavior is a complete departure from the way he would normally act under other writers. Dick’s also been one to level plenty of criticisms towards Bruce himself. This sudden personality change where Dick thinks Bruce can do no wrong, where no one can criticize Bruce in Dick’s presence without him absolutely blowing up, where he suddenly can’t control his emotions over the littlest things...it really exists primarily in Devin’s writing. It’s incredibly OOC behavior and it’s rooted in Devin’s sexual fantasies frankly. 

Devin’s writing is also where Dick, despite being incredibly dedicated and monogamous in all of his previous relationships, suddenly became a womanizer. Literally, everyone was written as wanting to get into Dick’s pants: Rose Wilson was reduced to a giddy teenager because of Dick, random women in the streets would comment on how cute Nightwing was, a mob boss’s daughter who was only 15 years old was obsessed with Dick and made advances, Dick had a one night stand with Huntress because she reminded him of Bruce, Bruce called Dick “Hunk Wonder,” Dick undressed in front of fucking Deathstroke (and there was a newspaper with “Richard Wilson” on it as a sly little wink towards the audience), psycho vigilante Tarantula is obsessed with Dick to the point of raping him, the list goes on. If you want more samplings of how freaking disgusting and sex-obsessed Devin was when it came to Dick, look no further than her gross Inheritance book, where she ships Dick with everyone from Green Arrow to Aquaman (here are some quotes if you’re a masochist). And since Dick “thinks with his body” or whatever, Devin’d write him as receptive (or very oblivious) when it comes to this attention. 

Gotham Knights #10

Nightwing (1996) #107

Another thing that made me extremely uncomfortable is how Devin would always have strangers and villains, especially older men--people who Dick very much did not know and wouldn’t appreciate being in his personal space--be all grabby with him. Please leave him alone. 

Nightwing and Huntress #2

There Dick is, “hypnotized” in place by Huntress’s touch. Kill me. It is also especially messed up that Devin suddenly turned Dick into some sexual, warm-blooded hot head at the same time as she decided to introduce him as Romani. 

Q: How could him being Romani be used to inform his characterization?

It reinforces his “otherness” where Bruce is concerned in what I think is a useful, interesting way...It also presents the opportunity for there to be a slight chip on his shoulder, which maybe speaks to his scrappiness. It also maybe gives him a slightly deeper way to relate to someone like Helena--someone who is white but other--and gives the people who love (or lust after) him a potential cultural excuse for feeling as bewitched as they sometimes do. I also just love the idea of Bruce occasionally calling him “hot blooded” just to mess with him, because Dick would of course deny being so in an extremely hot-blooded manner. [x]

Her feeding into the fetishizing of biracial individuals is just disgusting and wrong. If there’s a racist stereotype available Devin really goes out of her way to make sure she includes it in her writing huh. 

Gotham Knights #20

And Bruce being a racist jerk is not charming Devin, it’s terrible. Barbara used slurs also, and was very dismissive of Dick’s reaction to Bruce’s actions...that was also horrible. It’s awful that Dick’s own family would apparently treat him this way. Obviously, Dick isn’t the only one that Devin would write out of character. 

It’s all just so messed up to me, I can’t stand it. When I first read her comics, even when it wasn’t blatant like above, I would feel something subtly off...and once I read her interviews I can’t help but notice these horrible underlying insinuations in all of her work, in so many seemingly “innocent” scenes. There are a lot of big things she’s known for (her horrible treatment of Dick’s Romani heritage and his rape for example) but all these subtle, insidious little details that people don’t even really register...they are equally frustrating to me. Seeing sects of the fandom pick up these details (like, the idea that Dick doesn’t understand personal boundaries, the idea that he’s a hot head, the idea that he’s a womanizer, etc.) when I know a lot of it stems nearly solely from Devin’s crappy characterization and writing of Dick...it’s hard. 

Q: Further to that, if Dick is gay, what kind of guy is his type?

DG: ...Type isn’t as important as passion and opportunity. Because of his psycho-sexual makeup, the other key factor would be a sense that he means something to that other man, that his “surrender” is making that man happy, allowing him to bring pleasure to someone (as he was never allowed to do for Bruce). There’s also a sense, if I may be so bold, of needing to be “caught” and “held down” - this going back to the trauma of losing his parents...being strong and passionate and heroic and virile and loving with a woman is fantastic, he lives for that. But he lost both parents. There is also a part of him that longs to be pinned down and loved a little bit savagely and hurt just enough to reassure him that he’s alive. Man, I’m totally gonna get fired when this comes out....

Literally makes me want to barf. That is supposed to be a professional, official writer at DC. Could go on forever. 

[ilonga]

new fic!

(aka a young Rey is found by stormtroopers on Jakku)

ao3

She’s six years old when pounding, orderly footsteps march into her desert and kick up the sands and winds.

It's been exactly four hundred and twenty three days since she was left with Unkar Plutt with nothing but a dingy old tunic and the echo of a kiss on her forehead, and exactly one hundred and forty nine days since he told her to either "find a way to make yourself useful, little whelp, or I will." It's been exactly three hundred and one days since she forgot what her parents used to call her because no one on Jakku called her anything but "girl," and two hundred and ninety eight days before she found a pilot's helmet in some wreckage and decided to call herself Rey. She knows these numbers are right--or, mostly right, sometimes she loses her place when trying to sound out the tally marks--because before her mother left her here with a hug and some comforting whispers, she had taught her how to count and how to spell. She's forgotten how to spell by now, but she knows she'll be dead here if she ever forgets how to count.

She's scurrying about in the shop, tidying up and trying to stay out of Unkar Plutt's way when she hears the armored footsteps marching past. She skittles over to the front window where the hulking Crolute does business and tries to peer over the counter to see what's going on.  

Even on her tiptoes, all she can see is a blur of white in the distance. It's kind of pretty, she decides. The only two colors the desert ever sees is the beige of the sand and the blue of the sky. White is rare--it reminds her of that one time she'd seen an honest to Force cloud.

The blur of white grows closer, and the footsteps grow louder. Another half a minute and she can see that the blur is actually a group of people--five to be precise, though she thinks, squinting, that some might have stayed behind at a grey lump that could maybe be a transport.

"Blasted sandy hell." One of them grumbles, shaking out sand from one of the armor plates. "Dunno what the Commander expected us to find on Jakku."

"Trooper." --Trooper, that must be their name, then-- "The Commander's orders are not to be questioned." It's the figure in the lead that speaks, with a decidedly icy tone.

Suddenly, even from the distance, Rey feels Trooper go cold. Fear, maybe? It's what the scavengers feel like when Unkar Plutt kicks them out of the shelters before a sandstorm, what her mother felt like so many hundreds of days ago, what she feels like when Plutt's in a mood.

"No, Captain." says Trooper, snapping a quick salute.

Strange names, Rey thinks. Strange, strange names.

She wonders where they're from.

They approach the shop.

"You," says Captain, and she does a double take before realizing that she's talking over her, not at her, "Crolute! You in charge of this outpost?"

"The name" --Rey jumps and scrambles out of Unkar Plutt's way-- "is Plutt."

There's a snicker. " Plutt, then. Heard this was where to go if we were looking for some. . . direction."

"That's right," Plutt says with a grunt. "What do you all want--you whelp, get out of my way-- "

Rey lets out a squeak and claps a hand over her mouth, stepping backwards and out of reach of his fists. She hadn't even done anything this time, just breathed a little louder than usual--

"Who's this?" Captain says, leaning over the countertop with one elbow forward. "A child?"

Her visor snaps up to Plutt. "Wasn't expecting someone like you to be a parental type. Seems an awful lot more trouble than it's worth, another mouth to feed in these--" she gestures aimlessly-- "difficult surroundings."

"She's help for the shop." the Crolute says shortly. "Now, what do you want?"

Trooper seems like he's about to speak, but Captain raises a hand and cuts him off. "Before we do that--" she leans an armored elbow on the countertop, much to Plutt's annoyance-- "is she. . . useful?"

There's a blank silence before Plutt answers carefully, "She serves her purpose."

"Let me rephrase that, then." Captain pats at something at her waist level--a blaster, maybe? "Is she more useful to you than the First Order's good favor?"

"Captain. . ." Trooper trails off hesitantly, cutting himself off at Captain's sharp gesture to the side.

Plutt scoffs. "Now wait just a minute, trooper. This is Jakku. The First Order isn't the authority 'round here. The girl is my help, and she'll stay that way."

Plutt leans back, smugness radiating off of him in waves. He seems to consider that a job well done, but Rey can feel the way the air is tense and coiled like it's about to snap.

"Wrong answer." Captain says cooly, pulls out the blaster, and shoots Plutt in the head.

Rey screams.

His body collapses onto the countertop, eyes still open and mouth twisted in a permanent grimace of shock. His head lolls to the side as one arm slips down, down, down. A curl of smoke rises up lazily from where the blast entered his forehead.

Rey can't tear her eyes away from the corpse.

He's dead. Unkar Plutt is dead. The only constant in her life for the past four hundred and twenty three days is dead and gone, forever. She was going to become a scavenger, she realizes numbly. She was going to become a scavenger and learn the ins and outs of ship wreckage and speeder bikes and maybe find enough junk that she wouldn't ever have to rely on nobody anymore, except her parents when they came back for her. But now Plutt is dead.

What's going to happen to the outpost? What will the other scavengers do? How will her parents know where to find her, now that Plutt's--

"Grab the girl." Captain gestures sharply at the figures by her side. There's a blur of motion and Trooper and another figure step forward.

This manages to break through her shock.

"No!" she shouts. She can't leave Jakku, she can't. She doesn't care what Captain might have to offer her--if she even has anything to offer her. Does she? Or is she one of those bad ones that Plutt had scared her with stories of, that'll do who knows what to little girls like her.

She stumbles backwards in a panic, tripping and catching herself over Plutt's leg on the floor. There's a rush and suddenly she finds herself with her arms pinned behind her back, another figure in white holding her fast.

"Let me go!" she shouts, hoping wildly that maybe some scavenger will be passing by and maybe, just maybe, they might decide to step in. "Let me go!"

"Quiet, girl." Captain snaps, and the figure behind her fastens a hand over her mouth, too. "Or you'll end up like him."

Rey quickly quiets. The arms around her loosen marginally.

"Shut her up and get her to the transport." says Captain, turning away from her.

"I hear the FN corps are still short of a few recruits."

[vee-ia]

🌱 House of healing { Veewon

         It was time. Finally, it was time, Vee was beyond excited at the prospect of taking the other with him to his realm and on Thursday morning at the break of dawn the fae and the halfblood had agreed to meet up at the portals where vee was standing in absolute delight, holding a large bag next to the leather backpack he was wearing. “With gifts.” He said to Hyungwon as they met and the fae looked at the other with a warm look as he stepped over and pressed a kiss against the others’ cheek. A way to reassure him it seemed as he knew the other was a little nervous to go. Vee might not know all the ins and outs of why but he knew enough to feel empathy.

        He still found it important for the other to join him, though. To come more in touch with his fae-side, it was only natural and healthy for Hyungwon to experience this. Vee had gathered that Hyungwon’s life had not been very fairy-centric and that he perhaps had never been around many of their kind so this was going to be quite the experience. “Come on.” Vee said as the portal opened and he stepped through. They went from a chilly morning to a soft morning glow in a world that was bright green and golden. Trees everywhere and Vee inhaled as he stepped through. Immediately the man seemed more at ease. “Home.” he said as he looked at the two suns, one was more orange and the other paler, almost blueish white. “Home.” he repeated and then took the others’ hand “Don’t be afraid.” He said as he led them to the edge of the forest. “We’re here.” he called out and the trees started to tremble as they edged away from the two to form a path.

        “It is not far, come on.” Vee said as he kept holding onto the other. Walking with firm steps through a forest that was alive and magical as the flowers turned to watch them curiously. The tree branches sometimes touching Vee’s shoulder as if they were old friends and then as there was a large clearing showing up suddenly Vee let go of the other as he laughed and jumped up in the air as he changed mid-jump. His features becoming pointer and his hair grew from blonde to dark, becoming longer as he grew shorter, smaller, tiny. His eyes yellow and he giggled as he pointed at Hyungwon who, suddenly, started to shrink too. It must have been a rather terrifying experience to suddenly shrink but Vee flew over to grab the others’ hands as he shrunk. “It is okay.” He repeated until they were both about the size of a fist.

        A lot of voices sounded and Vee turned around, his long hair swaying as he turned around. His lashes had grown longer in this form and his skin seemed to be have a layer made out of a transculent substance that sparkled. It made him look even more magical as he tugged Hyungwon with him to the clearing where about seven fae were waiting for them. A man who looked to be in his sixties stood there, holding a smaller fae by the hand as Vee squealed GRANDPAPA and flew over to hug the man and clung to the other, only to be hid under the bodies of five siblings that all seemed to be thrilled to have their brother back home. Only one fae didn’t join the hug pile. She stood very still as she watched the halfblood and then walked over. “Greetings child, you must be Vee’s friend. Hyungwon?” She said as she watched him curiously. She had long raven hair and a slightly greyish skin but soft blue eyes. Her wings were large and black with blue veins. “Welcome, I am Vee’s mother. As long as you are here, you may call me mother too. If that makes you uncomfortable Ma’am is also alright.” She smiled “I am afraid my husbands’ side of the family will be less forgiving with the naming and insist on you calling them papa and grandfather. I apologize in advance.” She looked at her son lifting one of his siblings up in the air and swaying them around while laughing. “Taehyung, come here.” She called out and Vee looked up, fluttering over. “Mom, sorry got excited.” He sounded a little miffed at the other using his real name and he scrunched his nose before smiling at her and kissing her cheek as he wrapped his arms around the woman.

        “You shouldn’t leave our guest alone like that, he just got here and you know he is in for a treat when your father sees him. Oh no grandfather has spotted him- I’ll go deal with that you get your bags to the tree and feed this young man. He looks like he hasn’t had enough fruit.” he took the other in, eyes lingering on his hair and then on his eyes as she made a small sound. “His hair is dirty too, he needs to wash up.”

         Vee huffed a little but didn’t go against his mother as he picked up the bags and nudged Hyungwon to follow him through the grass to the large tree that had several doors and windows. “My room is all the way up, because I am one of the youngest so they work their way up in the tree with the rooms.” he explained  

         He took the others’ hand and without trouble flew up, lifting Hyungwon from the ground. “Ah yes, I am stronger in this form. Like- in comparison.” he told the other as they went up in the sky and to one of the highest  doors that vee kicked open and helped the other into the room. Whatever one would expect from a fairy room, this was probably it? It was all made out of wood obviously, there was a large bed in the middle of the wall to the South made out of wood and painted yellow, fresh blankets were on it and the desk in the corner seemed to be made out of stone and dried mushroom. The chair was a gigantic hazelnut and there were drawings all put up on one wall, decorating it with some pictures of Vee and people from the academy he had obviously brought back. “Just put your stuff here, no one will touch it.”

@hyungwon-ia