#it feels morally wrong to speak such utter lies

[schwepsee]

can we talk about how jayvik coded Moscow by Autoheart is like

EXCUSE ME

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

UNTOUCHED. 18+

pairing. dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 2967

summary. you thought your crush on your dad’s best friend would never be reciprocated. but it turns out, that’s not true

warnings. 18+ only!! age gap (20s, 40s) dbf, 'experienced' virgin reader, body worship, titty stuff, fingering, unprotected pinv sex, soft dom bucky. minors dni

rewrote this from a request I did

You often felt a spiral of shame surrounding your thoughts. Thoughts that no one should be having of a parents friend. 

And yet, it was happening. 

These abashed notions of your father's best friend clouded your mind far too regularly for you not to question your moral judgment. You would often find moments where you told yourself lies to feel better, saying that it was natural to feel this way about someone you can't have - someone you shouldn't have. But with most things in life, the more you can't have it, the more you want it.

This impromptu lakehouse vacation with your parents and said friend has been the most challenging strain on your ethical code. Every stolen glance feeling that much more intimate, given the circumstance. Almost confined within the same household for the past several days - forced into family dinners, nudged into game nights, all of it intensifying your attraction towards him.

These thoughts of utter infatuation continue as you watch Bucky and your dad at the pool table across the room, your pen tapping rhythmically on your chin as you pretend to think about the words on the notepad. Your perfect little ruse while you gawk at the hunky man leaning over the felt table, large bicep flexed with the cue slotted underneath.

Staring at him like that with eyes so eager and attentive made you feel juvenile —pathetic— the whirlwind of schoolgirl-like emotions that followed with a crush so prohibited made you feel confused. It would've been easier to take a liking to a guy your own age, to a guy you'd maybe have a shot with, but no. It was on someone completely off-limits and someone you should not be thinking of in the way you do.

The illogical connotations that followed with the infatuation seemed to heighten everything - everything within your little delusion growing more and more dramatised. 

So now, when you meet Bucky's momentary gaze from across the way for the fifth time, you begin to overthink everything, all prior thoughts spiralling out of control. With an uneasy inhale, you briefly drop your head into your hands and then collect your things, bunching everything into a pile - leaving it neatly on the coffee table.

You slip out of the main room, going undetected as you head for your bedroom across the house. Once within your own space, you take a moment to compose yourself - to give yourself a second to regulate the dirty thoughts that hogged the rational parts of your brain. 

But to no avail, it fails. 

Instead, you make your way into your ensuite and turn on the water, hoping that your second shower of the night will clean your mind this time.

You allow yourself some time in the shower, standing in near silence as you lather the soapy loofah on your skin, doing everything you can to fight off the want. All earlier feelings slowly being replaced by a slither of sanctity.

After a short while, you shut off the water and wrap a towel around your body, patting yourself dry before rubbing on some quick creams. Opening the door, you see an outline of someone sitting on the side of your bed - their —his— broad, upper figure acting as a surely silhouette in the moonlight. 

"You're in the wrong room," you say - speaking softer than you'd have liked. "Shouldn't be in here," you add, gripping your towel tighter.

"No?" Bucky hums, almost pleased. Cocking his head to the side as his eyes slowly rake over you, gaze trailing up the exposed parts of your body that are lit in the moon's cast.

You shake your head, pointing at the door. 

Instead of doing as you asked, he reaches for the lamp on your bedside table and flicks it on. Turning his attention back to you, he scans over your body with that subtle hint of possessiveness he often wears around you. Blue eyes bloomed up, taking you all in. 

You rush over and hastily grab his hand - pulling down on the chained switch to turn it off. But his hand underneath yours pulls back down on it, letting in a gentle flood of light, allowing him to see you clearly again. 

And only now do you really see his face. Eyes primal as they look up at you standing between his spread thighs, hand wrapped tightly over his on the pull-chain. Keeping his focus on you, he brings his spare hand up to rest on your hip, palm grazing along the towel covering the curve.

"Saw you looking at me earlier," he finally speaks, words faint and low as he slips his hands into both of yours - holding them.

You gently shake your head and divert your gaze to your hands, looking down at the difference in size - how his large ones almost engulf yours. "I don't know what you're talking about," you lie, tone breathy. 

He brings your hands towards his face and places a soft kiss on the back of each, keeping his eyes locked at you from above. "Liar," he whispers into the skin. "Thought your parents taught you not to lie."

"Don't talk about them," you utter, breath catching in your chest, watching your hands in his. 

"You don't want them to know you got a thing for your old man's friend?" he asks, voice silky as he fiddles with your fingers. The act like a tender caress, his big, rough hands uncharacteristically gentle with you - everything like you pictured them to be. 

You shake your head a singular time, the motion faint.

"I don't want my friend to know I have a thing for his daughter either."

Meeting his now earnest eyes, you see that he held truth within his confession - his expression purely genuine under your focus. His fingers continue with the playful teasing in yours, his sole attention locked on you standing between his wide-spread thighs.

He carefully releases your hands and lets them hang at your sides, your fingertips skimming at his knees. Your eyes hone in on him, intently watching him resume his visual survey of you.

His hands reach for the opening of your towel, looking up to a hesitant expression on your face - features pulled together with uncertainty. This was all so foreign to you, and you didn't know what do to with yourself. You've wanted this so bad, for so long, but now that it was actually and finally about to happen, you felt at a loss. 

"You haven't done this before?" he asks rhetorically, knowing what that tentative look means.

With your silence, his question gets answered. That same possessive expression resurfacing. 

He weaves a finger to the opening at the bottom of the towel, hooking it aside to reveal the very upper of your thigh - the soft, plushy skin looking the more tempting. 

"I'll be gentle with you," he whispers, voice hoarse as his finger slips higher, exposing the crease just under your hip bone - that irresistible line right next to your cunt. "You tell me to stop, and I will."

Though no words come from your lips - silently agreeing.

With his singular finger parting higher, the towel untucks from its hold around your chest, the fabric undoing and falling to the floor - pooling around your feet as you stand naked in front of him. His fully clothed self juxtaposing the sheer bareness of you. 

His attention dances over your body slowly, taking all of you in - letting the image curate in his brain for safekeeping. Eyes temporarily focus in on your tits a mere foot away from his face, slowly travelling down your stomach and finally to the beautiful, tempting, untouched thing between your thighs. Your pussy.

He places his palms back over your hips, hands almost dwarfing you as he guides you closer - making you take a step towards him. 

"So no one has ever..." he starts, bringing his hands up to cup your tits. "Seen them, touched them?" he asks, rolling them gently, eyes flicking up at you.

"No," you utter, bottom lip bitten as you eagerly watch him palm your breasts. 

"Good," he murmurs, brushing his thumbs over the perk nipples. 

The action causes a hitch in your breath, his touch so unlike that of your own during late-night solo sessions - the feeling of another person's touch coating your body with goosebumps.

He leans in closer to you and presses a kiss into your rib, the faint contact of his lips on your skin making you shudder. Though, he doesn't pull away. He continues with a trail of soft kisses up the underneath part of one of your tits, lips grazing along the dome-like shape - eyes locked on yours.

He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, wrapping his lips around it - tongue flicking over it leisurely between kisses. Shame and lust and excitement rise to heat your cheeks, and you drop your head backwards at the feeling, puffed lips parting as you squeeze your eyes shut. 

"Feel good, hm?" he muffles against the plush of your tit, moving to the other - giving it the same attention. 

You hum sweetly, mind blank. You bring your hands to rest on Bucky's broad shoulders, your fingers digging into the swell of his muscle as you use him for stability - thumbs brushing against the base of his neck. You straighten your neck to look down at him, watching the way his lips caress your nipples.

You glide a hand along the side of his head, teasing fingers dragging across his scalp as if to hold him there - like you were trying to keep him glued to you. But he pulls away, and you bashfully rip your hand from its placement in his hair. 

"Sorry."

Resting his hands on your waist, he looks up at you, turning his attention away from the wetness around your nipples. "For what?"

"Think I made it awkward," you whisper.

"When?"

"Now. Just then."

"You didn't," he assures, trailing kisses down the valley of your chest, working featherlight pecks along the top of your abdomen.

"No?"

"No," he confirms.

His hands stroke over your hips, palms light and tender as they caress you. He nudges you forward, making you take another step closer - his grip directing you and making you perch upon his thigh, guiding you to straddle it. 

His placement on your hips slips upwards, moving into a gentle but surely hold in the middle of your back. Like he was taking charge, doing the thinking for you - letting you turn your mind off. 

You loosely drape your arms off his shoulders. "I haven't..." you start, pausing as if to think of the words. "Done... this before."

"I know," he hums and leans in to place a kiss at the base of your throat, trailing them upwards - working up to your jaw. "Don't worry about it. I got it."

With one hand now on the side of your face, the other in its spot on your lower back, he pulls you towards him and rolls over into the mattress, holding you to him as he does so. He repositions you underneath him - hovering from above to your side. Almost cradling you with his lips resuming their previous spot on your throat. 

Bucky leisurely grazes his hand down your stomach, moving steadily towards your inner thighs. He's slow and teasing with it, making you wait - letting the anticipation build impossibly further before he finally slides to where you wanted him. 

He slides the tips of his two middle fingers over your cunt, the pads coating with a creamy sheen of your arousal as he gently parts your folds. Like the feeling of his mouth on your breasts, this sensation was so unlike that of your own. The foreign touch of another person is solely enough to elicit gentle dulcet noises from you.

He pulls his forehead from that spot in the crook of your neck, adjusting to glance down at you - his eyes low and lidded as he looks into your eager ones. Your pretty eyes so trusting and willing under his attention.

He teases his middle finger around your entrance, the pressure almost non-existent as he circles over it. Just slow movements as he watches the knitting of your brows - the rest of your features blissfully pulling together. He's being so softly dominant with you, every touch made with tender precision.

He eases his finger into your cunt, the thickness of it a slight stretch as he curls it up into you, hooking up against that spongy spot. He keeps it there, pressing a kiss into your cheek.

Ever so slowly, he begins rocking it into you - the heel of his palm rubbing nicely against your clit as he does so. He's patient, listening to your body, waiting for it to tell him what it wants. 

Even though you were inexperienced, that didn't mean you don't know your body - know what it wants. You've had years with yourself cultivating your likes, but you've just never had someone to fulfil them. You knew the things you need and where you needed them, and it happened that Bucky knew it, too. He knew it all without you having to voice it. 

His finger pumps into your pussy, the motion a slow, steady rocking, moving into you as if he was trying to familiarise you - get you used to the feeling of having someone else inside of you.

"Listen to how wet you are."

He drags along the inside of your cunt before easing out and bringing his finger up to you, showing you the ringed milky sheen above his last knuckle. He licks over the skin to lap up your arousal - like the act was muscle memory, a process he didn't need to think about.

Your eyes compliant and eager as you look up at him, darting over his face as if to process what had just happened. The warm, fluttery feeling of being indulged pushed you into a tizzy and the look on his face as he did it, expanded the need unbearably further between your thighs.

He coos softly and readjusts you up the length of the bed. Cupping the back of your head, he peels it from the mattress and places a pillow underneath - getting you comfortable. Taking the lead, taking care of you. 

Kneeling between your open thighs, he tugs off his tee, his upper body like everything you had pictured - rugged, sculpted, beefy, a true sight.

And he was on his knees, between your legs.

You lay there somewhat patiently, mind whirling as you watch his hands slip into the waistband of his plaid lounge bottoms, the slight force down on the fabric exposing himself to you. Your eyes rake down his stomach and to his happy trail, eager cock standing attentively below - the sight almost intimidating. 

The first real cock you've seen and sure to ruin all future expectations.

He hovers over you, his weight anchored on a singular hand beside your head - the other wrapped around his cock, stroking himself as he guides his head closer.

"I'll go slow," he whispers, his voice soft and gentle, speaking mere inches from your lips.

You nod, the motion faint as you slip your hands into the sides of his hair, fingers skimming his scalp. Doing what you've read - doing what you've seen, not letting your lack of experience awkwardly taint the moment you've been waiting for. 

With his grip on the base of his cock, he nudges himself closer - his leaking tip pressing up against the warmth of your cunt. He pushes his head through your messy folds, collecting your arousal as if it were lube. 

Easing his head into your pussy, he stills, letting you adjust to the unfamiliar sensation - the stretch of your walls opening to accustom him. Keeping his eyes on yours, he looks out for discomfort, only to find none - your features clouded with lust and bliss and obedience. 

With your silent encouragement, he slips in a little more of himself - the girth of his upper shaft creating a mellow, tame burn in your cunt.

"Such a pro," he praises, moving the hand from his cock to place on the side of your face - his palm warm as it rests against your cheek, holding you. "S'good," he mutters, tone strained as he kisses under your jaw.

Your dulcet, sultry noises ring like music to Bucky's ears - the sounds like everything he's imagined them to be, if not better. The soft, breathy, whiney moans combined with the wet clicking of your cunt, egg him on more than he thought to be possible. More than he was used to.

He momentarily parts focus from your face, instead glancing down your stomach to look between your thighs, watching himself sink into you - the swallowing of your pussy pulling him back in for more. The creamy ring forming around the base of his cock. His new favourite sight.

Your eyes so full of lust and trust - everything about you in this position igniting something deeply possessive within him. 

And though you were still new to sex, he wanted to ruin you - obliterate your standards so that you keep coming back for more. He knew in his mind that was wrong, but when he watches your face knit with waves of bliss, he can't help but think he's not alone in that feeling.

He knew this wasn't going to be a one-time thing. And in your heart, you knew that, too.

lwk hate this, but in my drafts so worth posting

[all-pacas]

Can you talk more about Chase's moral stand in The Dictator and what made him do such a shift? While Chase did care about people outside of his immediate circle at times,it was (almost) always by the way of him relating to said experiences and/or bonding with the patients.

I really don't think it's that complicated. As fun as it is to joke about Chase's utter lack of morals and empathy, that's never actually been true. He reaches out to Foreman in Family with empathy and an offer to go drinking; he reaches out to Cameron in Cursed with offers to do work so she can go home and to… go drinking (Chase has one move). He is very upset when he loses patients in Maternity and Forever (both babies; still). He cries over House's "cancer" in Half Wit even before the hug. He falls very hard for Cameron; he reaches out to 13 in After Hours, his pro-euthanasia stance in Informed Consent is about easing pain. One of my favorite little moments is in Cane and Able: the child patient's parents are exasperated and unsupportive of their son's alien abduction delusions, and Chase makes a point in talking to them, telling them pretty frankly that they need to support their son, even if they think he's nuts. He didn't need to do that. He was absolutely right. When he finds out House lied to the transplant committee in Control, he does rat to Vogler… but he doesn't do anything to undermine the transplant, which proceeds. Generally speaking, he knows right from wrong and doesn't approve of "harming people" (in particular children) or "hurting people." Yes, we mostly see that with the people he does care about, but. He doesn't really like Foreman much. Foreman is often quite dismissive of Chase. Chase still offers to go drinking. Is he the nicest and sweetest guy ever? Nah. But he's not evil.

Where his "lack of morals" comes in is that Chase puts himself first. He's not selfish in the way we usually think of it; he does care for other people, and quite a lot at times. But he's a survivor, he looks out for himself first. The rare times he refuses an order from House, it's because he thinks the risk to his career or license is too high. If a task requires him to go out of his way when he doesn't care about it, he won't do it. If a task leads him into an uncomfortable situation, as in Safe — faced with the choice of revealing to the patient's overprotective parents that their daughter is sexually active, or just billing them for a test and letting them find out on their own time — he chooses the easier-for-him option. He doesn't really care that House is on drugs. He doesn't really care about all the shady things his job comes with, as long as he doesn't risk losing it, getting arrested, or the end result. Lying to a patient? Why not, if it gets the job done. That doesn't mean he's pro murder. It just means he's lazy and pragmatic. Again, the rare times he defies House, it's when House is asking him to do something that is too "high risk" for Chase.

So the thing about Dibala is that Chase actually feels that murder is still wrong. He has morals, and those morals are: don't kill people, it's wrong. He makes it pretty clear.

CHASE: You can't want to kill anyone, especially not your own patient. CAMERON: It's only natural to feel he should – CHASE: No, it's completely unnatural. Only psychopaths can kill other people without having some sort of breakdown. CAMERON: Not when it's justified. Look at soldiers. CHASE: Even when it's justified.

Except the entire episode, all Chase is hearing is the opposite. I'm not saying Cameron pushed him into it or anything: he made up his own mind. But Cameron keeps telling him he's evil and should die. Dibala's would-be assassin tells him, twice, that Dibala is evil and should die and here is what he witnessed and did.

So let's look at the scene where Chase decides to do a murder. Cameron has been going through her own Arc in this episode, passive-aggressively hinting someone should kill Dibala but not making any moves on her own. Dibala gets sick of this and grabs her, challenging her to act, not just talk, but Cameron can't do it and backs down, leaving Chase and Dibala alone.

CHASE: If you touch my wife again, I'll kick your ass out into the street. I don't care who you are. DIBALA: I did her a favor. I showed her her true character. CHASE: She's a better person than you are. DIBALA: She is too weak to act on her beliefs. That is not her fault. Most everyone is. Even my own advisors. My own colonel. All they do is negotiate and debate and sign treaties. They are appeasers. And all the while, we are beset by assassins and traitors, the scum – CHASE: Cockroaches? What are you going to do about them? DIBALA: What is an enemy to you? Some younger physician who covets your office? In my world, there are dangers and bloodshed and death. And that makes you a man. And men make choices. CHASE: And your choice is to send bands of drunk, crazed children to massacre an entire people? DIBALA: Don't ask me questions you don't want to know the answer to. CHASE: I saved your life. I deserve to know what you're planning to – DIBALA: Whatever it takes to protect my country.

Chase is mad: he just hurt Cameron, and more than that, Chase is a little betrayed. He and Dibala kind of got along before this. I wouldn't say Chase liked him, but they bonded. Until this moment, Dibala was polite. He was complimentary. He offered Chase excuses, and Chase probably wanted to believe them. Not anymore! Dibala just hurt Cameron, called her weak, and told Chase blatantly "I'm planning another genocide."

Chase is angry: I saved your life, you need to be honest with me, you shouldn't be like this.

Until now, Dibala had polite excuses: it wasn't his fault, he had bad subordinates who killed people, he made mistakes. Weak excuses, but the kind of excuses Chase probably did believe, kind of wanted to believe. Not anymore! This nice old man has just revealed himself to be planning more murders!

That's what makes Chase act. What tips him past "I'm not getting involved" into "time to do a murder." He spends the entire episode hearing everyone talk about how someone should kill Dibala. And then Dibala betrays his (very misplaced) trust, reveals himself to be just as evil as everyone has said, and even gives Chase a nice little speech about how strength is to act, how to be a man is to make a choice, not just sit back and do what's easier.

It was never a matter of lol Chase is fine with murder, he doesn't care about anything. Chase cares about quite a lot of things. The trick was getting him to care enough to put himself at risk and act.

[truechaosembodied]

I scratch my head nervously before continuing. “…I was four months from turning 13 when I got a weird voice in my head giving me some weirdly solid advice. Whether it was about socializing, solving problems in school, or life in general, the voice was always the same. I thought I was developing schizophrenia or something, but when I turned 13, I learned *who* that voice was. I washed my hands after waking up to find my hands had gloves on. I tried to take them off, but then I heard the voice in my head wince. It turned out that the voice in my head was a god-like being called ‘The Embodiment of CHAOS’ that could only emerge if I got wet. Essentially, I don’t have powers, but I can let a god take over my body.” My roommates all start laughing hysterically at my answer. “You? A god?! Don’t—” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before laughter takes over his voice. I don’t even say a word before grabbing a water bottle and pouring it high above my head. The second the water hits my hair, it springs up into a spiky cyan tower of a hairdo, causing water to splash onto my legs, revealing a skeletal figure underneath. I then splash my face with the water, causing a fox head to take its place. Then, a voice completely different from mine starts to speak from my mouth. “So what do you think?,” it asks as I continue to pour water over myself. My roommates are in utter shock. They start to ask questions about powers and why I was chosen specifically. “Well for one, my powers lie over time and creation. My powers would only involve time, if it weren’t for my father’s exile as an embodiment. As for why I chose this guy? He just so happened to be the most chaotic person on the planet.” My roommates and CHAOS have a great time together, but I start to feel frustrated. They had always doubted me before, why would they suddenly accept CHAOS? Over the next few weeks, my roommates seem to only want to see CHAOS, leaving no room for me to protest. Eventually, CHAOS begins to realize that he’s taking over my life, so he tells me to move out. Having never been steered wrong by CHAOS before, I do just as he says. I began to pack my stuff up, but then found something I wouldn’t have wanted to see: cocaine in a family heirloom chest. I confronted my roommates about it, and it turned out that the mother fuckers were going to frame me if they were caught making it. I decided to leave them to their own devices so long as they weren’t going to include me in their plan anymore. I lied, reporting them to the police for drug production as soon as I got to a hotel. Moral of the story? CHAOS is better than you know.

“So, I got my magic power by inheriting it from a draconic ancestor. What about you?” “Well, I found my grandpa’s old cookbook, and when I opened it, the magic I inherited from him manifested.” Your roommates then turn to you. “What about you?” “Well…”

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Okokok here this: april, reader and casey try to prank the boys. How does it go. With who does it fails/success, what was the prank, do they get caught? Do the boys get revenge, and if so, how?

Also, splinter sees it all unfolds, does he just gets himself a snack and watch, or does he tries to subtly join in without getting caught? (We all know hes got a playful side cmon)

Bonus: they try to prank vern too, maybe the boys join in to prank him? What do they do? Does he retaliate?

Okay so I admit I let my brain go nuts on this one, so it's a little long but I was cackling the entire time I was writing it.

TMNT Headcanons

Prank Wars

Leonardo

In your complete and utter defence, Leo had 100% started this

And also in your defence, you did tell him not to

Twice

But he tricked you into watching a horror movie and ended up dying your hair green

This meant war

You'd even wrapped up April and Casey into it

Their problems were your problems

Which meant that April was the one who convinced Splinter not to say anything to his sons

He was perfectly happy to oblige

Casey was just there to help set things up

And you liked the way his mind worked

The objective wasn't to go unnoticed, there would be no point in doing it and having no proof

You were doing this to prove that you could

Leo had emphasized that he couldn't be distracted

That you were to obvious and clumsy to prank him without him noticing

Challenge fucking accepted

And that's how you ended up at the kitchen table eating lunch with April and Casey when the boys were coming back from meditating with Splinter

April kept having to shove food in her mouth to hide her laughter

Casey just decided to wear sunglasses

And you kept overpowering the urge to smirk

"Hey guys, good to see you. Y/n have you seen my katanas?"

With the obstruction of water in your mouth you just nodded at him, pointing to the other room

He sauntered off, none the wiser to your victorious grin

When he came back in only a moment later his expression had done a complete 180

Leo made direct eye contact with you and you held that stare like a wolf cornered in its den

"does someone want to explain why my katanas are encased in blueberry jello?"

You raised your hand like a child in class

"hate to break it to you, but it's actually berry blue you uncultured bitch"

Raphael

Ohhhh you were so undeniably dead

A whole other level of six feet under

It wasn't a surprise that April and Casey had backed out on this one

It also wasn't a surprise that Splinter had offered to stand up for you if things went sideways

Donnie even gave you a sheet of paper with a list of hiding spots before hand

All of this went completely unnoticed by Raph, the target of your latest scheme.

And that was fine, you had only one objective here-

Make it out alive

But it was amazing what 1 person could do with some extra cash and internet access

So that's what led you to your current position.

Cross legged on the bench, watching the large red terrapin get ready for his first set, that in itself wasn't unusual, you always watched him lift just in case you needed to run and grab someone if something went wrong

Raph was none the wiser to your plan

At least that's what you thought

Your book was in your lap and you were calmly scanning your pages, somewhat comprehending the words but keeping a very close eye on the turtle across from you

"Hey y/n?"

You peeked over the edge of your book to meet his eyes

And your heart sank to your stomach

"Yeah Raph?"

He smirked at you, taking a lumbering step forward

"You ever seen that episode of the Office where Jim fills Dwight's phone with nickels so when he takes 'em out Dwight punches himself in the face?"

Shit shit shit shit shit shit-

"Uh... No, can't say that I have, why do you ask?"

That damn smile got even wider and all of your muscles tensed, you were ready to bolt

"I'm giving you a fifteen second headstart. Starting right now."

You flew to your feet and sprinted out of the weight room

"DONNIE WE GOTTA CODE RED!"

Your lungs were ready to burst by the time you made it to your decided hiding spot. Heavy footsteps went right underneath you and you held your breath, you wouldn't dare move.

You didn't come down until hours later when Splinter came and coaxed to you out of hiding

But deep down you knew you'd started something you couldn't finish.

Vern Fenwick

You didn't even have to convince the guys to partake in this

You didn't even get the chance to tell them what you were planning

They were already brainstorming

None of you let a word of it slip to April, she would've shut you down faster than you could blink

A complete buzz kill

But fake blood was relatively cheap and all of Vern's flooring was tile (meaning extremely easy to clean and bleach)

Donnie had really been the mastermind behind the execution, none of you had any idea how he'd rigged the apartment plumbing

But he'd assured you it would only affect Vern's suite and no one else's so you didn't concern yourself with it further

And after the fact you had to wonder what exactly the former cameraman was planning on the date he'd been in the middle of

All you knew was that you got a very frantic call from the falcon himself yelling about blood coming out of his tap and the sink wouldn't shut off and it was everywhere and what the fuck was happening?

You all knew that Splinter thought it was hilarious, he'd never been particularly fond of Vern

But he did make his sons assist in the clean up and bleaching of the victims apartment floor

You went too and offered moral support

Vern had hit on you one too many times, so there was no way you'd feel bad about this

Michaelangelo

As far as pranking went, you and Mikey were partners in crime

He always had great ideas and you always came up with the best ways to execute those ideas without getting caught

But when you separated those two chaos was guaranteed

You weren't entirely sure how you had been pitted against each other but you weren't entirely mad about it

You couldn't say the same for anyone else though, the others had been on edge all week.

Pranking Mikey was a challenge, he knew how you worked and vice versa

You'd been brainstorming with April for weeks now, maybe a new perspective would help

That's what the two of you told yourselves anyways

Much to your dismay, Mikey and Casey had been plotting against you as well, the traitor.

And perhaps even more unfortunate was the fact that both of your pranks somehow overlapped and backfired on the rest of the family

Because Mikey and Casey may have replaced the family tea set with a edible sugar replica that looked identical to the original

So that when you were asked to make tea for Splinter and Leo it would dissolve the second you poured the hot tea

But they didn't tell anyone else so Leo was left with an impromptu anxiety attack when he made his own tea before sitting down to meditate and it melted into sugary leaf water

And you and April had planned the 'cutting off your finger in the kitchen' with the knife, fake finger, and fake blood

Which in theory should've worked because Mikey was in the kitchen the most, that was his territory

However once you'd started your plan you couldn't stop it

so when you 'cut your finger off' and screamed for Mikey you didn't have time to yell "wait it's a prank!" before Donnie caught a glimpse of the scene and fainted

In your defence you didn't know the purple turtle could move that fast

And to Mikey's relief he was going to throw that cutting board out anyways

Splinter explicitly banned the two of you from pranking each other after that incident

Donatello

Per your own common sense you had come to the conclusion that pranking the families resident genius was a horribly stupid idea

So for once, you'd practiced some self control and refrained from any pranks involving Donnie

Now that's not to say that the turtle vowed from aiming any pranks towards you

He had morals but messing with you walked the line separating adorable from batshit crazy

And he was all for it

April advised against it severely and even Splinter seemed to think it wasn't the best idea, but that was a lesson his son had to learn on his own

On the flip side, the second Casey heard about Donnie's plan he was all for it

So when you came over for dinner they both had to hide their excited smiles as Casey passed you your spaghetti

He knew it was your favorite

Everyone else was oblivious, which looking back on it was a very bad thing

April had her suspicions that Donnie was pulling something this evening, but she couldn't put her finger on it

That wasn't until you swirled a mouthful of noodles around your fork and shoved it into your mouth, you were starving

Here lies your predicament-

You swallowed thickly and blinked like you were in pain, your hand went to your throat and you reached for your water, ending up chugging almost the entire bottle.

Your eyes met Donnie's in a serious type of concern

"Is there hot sauce in this?"

April choked on her breadstick and quickly covered her mouth

Casey hadn't picked up on it yet

"Awh yeah- how'd you figure it out so quickly?"

You erupted in a coughing fit that sent April rushing to your side before you could tumble to the floor

"You fucking assholes! Y/N has a capsaicin allergy! Casey go start the car we need to get them to the hospital!"

On the bright side you were fine after you were rushed to the ER

But you didn't speak to Donnie or Casey for two weeks following the accident

You eventually forgave them for it and they haven't targeted you since

Sorry if it got a little dark at the end, but I felt like it was more realistic. Also that has actually happened to me but it was a nut allergy (and that's how I found out I was allergic to cashews) But I feel like the ending was a good example of how pranking someone can go horribly wrong, you should always consider the possibilities before doing something that could cause harm to a person. (Unless they really really deserve it)

I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you guys like it as much as I do! 😁🧡👍

-Mars 🌠

[teyvattherapist]

A-Z for the oc asks (:

Help okay this is going to be so long it is under a cut.

A. Annoying: What is your OC’s most annoying trait?

Sandrone

Always monotone. Which, as his creator, I'm legally obligated to say I speak exactly like him about 80% of the time. Very dull, monotone, steady at all times. It's annoying! Or at least, I've been told. So, yeah. That.

Ohm

Puts his work first always. Those who know him only know a small smidge of the work he does and it would seem like there's no way in hell he has SO much work regarding that one section. But yeah, he's a workaholic who does just.. a lot.. behind the scenes.

B. Best: What is your OC’s best personality trait?

Sandrone

He's very observant! He can be dense regarding romantic stuff of course, but other things he's hella in the know. Sulien remembers or notices everything somebody he cares about says or does regarding things they like. So yes, he will always have your favourite takeout and snack ready before you even realise how sad you actually are. He knows.

Ohm

Like youngest like eldest I suppose. Ohm is also incredibly observant. Ohm is a bit more annoying with it because he will know you're injured even if you try to hide it. But beyond that, he's like a dog. You're sad? Cool let's go do something! Literally contradicts his above annoying trait but I mean, Ohm is weird as hell, he manages too many two faced traits. Anyways have a lollipop.

C. Child: Your OC encounters a crying, lost child. How do they react?

Sandrone

Ooh.. He's confused.. Sulien doesn't do well with people crying in general, let alone kids. He's had some practice with Tartaglia's little siblings, but that's not very much. He's kind of a yk criminal, so he'll probably bring the kid to the nearest location that looks like it'll be able to help them find their parents. He won't stick around for all that long, he's so awkward.

Ohm

He is on a fucking mission. Ohm is a doctor, he's a very good doctor, he's crouched down talking calmly within seconds. Always has lollipops on hand for this, and for himself, but mostly this. The kid's hand is in his while they're chewing away happily within moments. Then he'll find the parents, and they WILL get scolded on losing their child. Captain Ohm is not pleased ):<

D. Desire: Your OC has the opportunity to get the thing they desire most, but it means betraying a friend. Do they do it?

Sandrone

Yes. He does. A natural infiltrator, Sulien is known as a betrayer for a reason. Merely a job for the most part, a business transaction if you will. All relationships can be sacrificed in exchange of Freedom. He doesn't care. Sulien is tired, he has few friends as is, sometimes people need to go.

Ohm

No. Because betraying a friend for what he desires means to throw away everything he's ever signed his own life away for. Ohm can't do that, no matter how much he craves Death or Peace. One is obtainable if he makes a mistake and the other is unobtainable. He'll get there in the end without betraying somebody.

E. Excellent: Which of your OCs is the most virtuous?

This one will surprise people who don't as intimately know their stories. I mean come on, you have the Medical Captain of the Knights of Favonius vs a Fatui Harbinger, right? And yet, Sandrone is the more virtuous. Curious, isn't it?

F. Forgive: How good is your OC at apologizing? Do they own up to it when they’ve made a mistake? How easily does your OC forgive other people?

Sandrone

He's so condescending without meaning to be.. Mostly because the times he's apologised, it's been while arresting or killing somebody and he's saying sorry for betraying them. He makes an effort once he's realised he's hurt somebody he cares about, stumbles over his words, but he'll try. He always owns up to mistakes though, especially since he makes so few and he needs to be a good impression to his subordinates so THEY don't make any mistakes. It would depend on what they've done to him. He doesn't forgive nor does he forget sometimes.

Ohm

Very good! He's a fantastic liar :D! Ohm knows that sometimes to appease people, you have to do what you must, and he's a king with words for a reason. Another one who leads people and needs to show up as a good leader, Ohm always owns up to his mistakes. There are though.. Some things... In his personal life that he's only ever told two.. maybe three people.. Those mistakes.. They run so deep. Hurt too much. Ohm may be a very forgiving person, but he never forgets. Never.

G. Guilt: Does your OC often regret their decisions? If so, describe a decision they regret.

Sandrone

Conditioned to not feel, he ignores things like regret or guilt. He isn't programmed to feel them. He can't afford to. So it isn't often that he'll regret a decision. But when he does, he thinks about it forever. What he could have done better, what would have changed the outcome, he's supposed to be the best in his field at analyzing any given situation and yet.. Sulien just thinks too much sometimes.

Ohm

A lot of the things he has done he regrets, even if he deems them necessary to choices to make. I suppose Ohm is interesting like that, outwardly, he keeps going, keeps pushing forwards. Inwardly, it's a constant blizzard of guilt. I've always likened Ohm to a man damned, so his feelings about his decisions and the guilt he feels when he makes a bad one definitely fits into that.

H. Honesty: How often does your OC lie? Do they believe lying is ever justified? Describe a time your OC told a lie, or told the truth even when it was difficult.

Sandrone

His job is to lie. Head of Reconnaissance for the Tsaritsa, the puppet's function is to infiltrate what he needs to in order to gain the information he needs. Always adaptable, moldable, he's a liar at any given time. Even if he'd rather tell the truth, he never does, in Her name everything was justified. To tell a time he lied would be just looking at his work history. To tell a time he told the truth even when it hurt, would be more interesting. To compromise; in /almost/ all of his voicelines, he's actually telling the truth. Try and figure which are actually the lies..

Ohm

Ohm is clever, cunning, his personality handcrafted, perfectly put together piece by piece. Unlike his younger brother, Ohm is a natural liar. It comes easy to him, every honeyed word spoken from a tongue of silver. He has sins to hide and karma to beat back, if that means lying? Well. So be it. His most obvious lie that's revealed throughout his story quests would be that he's almost never on expedition to a nation for medicinal supplies, but rather he was infiltrating Snezhnaya to try and find his brother. A lie very few people knew the truth of, most notable being Varka, who gave his approval. Some hard truths are better off buried for Ohm Ambros.

I. Individuality: Is your OC’s morality more influenced by the society they live in, or their own critical thinking?

Sandrone

I mean... I'll just be honest, Sulien got tortured into utter compliance by way of forcing him to forget everything he ever knew. He's smart as hell, but if he has no frame of reference, then yeah... It's influenced by the people around him, his environment. Sulien is getting better about it though.

Ohm

His moral code is a roulette wheel and he's not sure where the bullet is. But hey, it's fine. Literally, I have nothing else to add. Ohm kills people, like, straight up disposes. But he's also a very nice man, so..

J. Jealousy: How often does your OC get jealous of other people? Do they keep their jealousy in check, or does it influence their behavior?

Both of them aren't very jealous people, one because Sandrone doesn't even fucking know he's jealous. And two, Ohm is just kinda dense unless someone is like.. uncomfortable, then he'll notice.

K. Knack: What is something your OC is skilled at?

Sandrone

Sulien's skill that I like to talk about the most is the fact he personally repairs his mask(and other things) with Kintsugi! It requires a lot of patience and technique and he is very good at it. Takes him forever though ngl.

Ohm

He loves his origami. He's very talented with it and can make pretty much anything. A lot of stuff he can do either one handed or without looking, but the more complex stuff he actually needs to concentrate on. He has a nasty habit of folding his briefing papers into cool little pieces.

L. Loathe: What qualities does your OC loathe in other people? Do they tend to be judgmental of others, even when it isn’t warranted?

Sandrone

He doesn't like super whiny people. It's just a personal pet peeve of his, he'd rather not. Like the whole high pitch "hmf!' kind of whiny? Yeah. Despises it. Otherwise Sulien isn't very judgemental! He's pretty respectful in general.

Ohm

Lmao Ohm is a hypocrite. He dislikes people who are reckless and put others in danger. He'll willingly put himself in danger, but not his team, which is the only real difference. It's weird, he's best friends with Kaeya and yet- ahem anyways. Call it the Doctor Vibe or w/e.

M. Mistake: Describe a time your OC did something bad, or was wrong about something.

Sandrone

War Criminal! Congratulations! He was behind the scenes making sure the sigils of permission were done correctly. I mean, he's a war criminal in general though. Personally, good dude. His work? Mm.. He's done things!

Ohm

I can't even be like "this dude killed two people when he was fourteen! that's bad!!" cause it was sort of warranted. I think, to Ohm, his biggest mistake would be "failing his parents' one task to him" which was to protect Sulien. And he failed to do that and lost Sulien for pretty much eleven years. It haunts him constantly.

N. Negative: What does your OC believe is their worst flaw?

Sandrone

Sulien has a bit of a thing where he hates how emotional he can get. He's been equated to machine so often that when he feels, he doesn't feel real. He dissociates and he hates that feeling. To him, it is his worst flaw. The puppet being emotional? What's the point? But he also doesn't know how to express his emotions in a healthy way, and I think it makes it all that much worse when he feels so strongly sometimes.

Ohm

Somebody who has a low outlook on themselves, there is very little Ohm likes. Though his inability to feel like he belongs or perhaps the karma attached to him would be the worst ones. To be haunted by demons, among other things, it is utterly ridiculous to him. And yet, here he is. How one can find comfort in somebody like him is just, beyond him.

O. Outlook: Is your OC more optimistic, pessimistic, or realistic? How likely are they to believe a bad person can change?

They are both Realists. To take a situation upfront and deal accordingly is who they both are at their core. Sandrone is more likely to believe somebody bad can become good, because /he/ wants to be good. Ohm is less likely to believe this, no matter how much he may want it to be true. But at the end of the day, products of environments that were so truly unkind, they are both realistic of the grim world around them.

P. Positive: What does your OC believe is their best personality trait?

Sandrone

For some odd reason, Sulien thinks how blunt he is at times is a good personality trait. I mean, like, I guess? He believes it at least. Sulien just thinks that being blunt is a good way of dealing with things without any communication problems or misunderstandings, and that's true to an extent.

Ohm

A man bound by contracts, it'd be how dutiful he is. Diligence is the name of his game, ultimately. He's been doing this since he was a child, he better be good at what he does, and he is. He always fulfills his duties, always does his role, always plays his part. His work is who he is.

Q. Quirk: Does your OC have any (minor) bad habits? If so, what? (Biting their nails, sleeping in, procrastinating, etc.)

Sandrone

Honestly most of his work takes place at night or the evenings, so he usually sleeps the day away. It isn't the best for a person, but he does what he must.

Ohm

Due to his insane alcohol tolerance, he definitely drinks way too much. But it never really hits him...? So he just kinda drinks those lil fruity drinks of his cause he likes the taste haha

R. Respect: What qualities does your OC admire in other people?

Sandrone

Honesty. He admires honesty the most. Sulien has been lied to a lot, had things taken away from him that nobody should ever have taken away. He just wants somebody who will tell him the truth, even if it hurts.

Ohm

Surprisingly, Ohm likes people who are resourceful, a little bit cunning maybe. He likes people who are useful to him, and being useful means being able to think fast on your feet.

S. Success: Describe a time your OC did something good, or was right when others were wrong.

Sandrone

Most of the time LMAO bye. Sulien functions on one perfected line of code. "Analyse the situation, filter what is appropriate, narrow the results, speak." He tells Pierro straight to his face that he's a better information gatherer because "the difference between your recruits and me lies within step three." He's not often wrong, the other Harbingers hate him for it.

Ohm

He does his best to do good things to make up for all of his bad karma. A doctor, a captain, an adeptus. He sacrifices his own vitality to heal others. I mean the list goes on. He tries, very hard, to make up for the things he's done.

T. Troubled: Which of your OCs is the most flawed?

They're both flawed in their own ways that I can't really compare them.

Sandrone was broken down into bits, had literally every sense of self or shred of dignity stolen from him, and then he was turned into a tool and used time and time again. That trauma will never go away, nor the problems or flaws that arise from it. Then you have Ohm, who was forced onto a path of bloodshed and slaughter in the name of Celestia. A pawn that has lost everything, everyone. Who failed, time and time again, and has to live with that, with himself. That also doesn't ever go away.

And I think to compare them would be unfair. Especially when the more they learn of each other's pain in their separation, the further they fall into that guilt and pain for their twin. They always blame themselves for what happened to the other.

U. Upgrade: Does your OC strive for self-improvement, or are they less concerned about becoming a better person?

Sandrone

He does what he can with the circumstances he's in, if that makes sense. There isn't a lot that Sulien can do to change himself or the things around him. But he tries to learn better life skills(like cooking) or pick up new hobbies and stuff like that. He really does try though.

Ohm

I don't think that Ohm sees the value of self-improvement. He knows he isn't a good person, and I think he knows, deep down, that he can't really change that.

V. Value: Is your OC more selfish or selfless? What would they sacrifice for a loved one? What would they sacrifice for a stranger?

Ooh they're so similar haha.

Sandrone

Selfless, he is always doing what other people want. His opinion always comes second. For a loved one? He will lay his life down. For a stranger? Well he'll do his very damn best if the situation calls for it.

Ohm

Selfless, following a set path laid out in the stars before him, he has no choice. Fate has called and he has answered, what he wants does not matter. But put his loved ones in the firing line? He'll die before they do, he can guarantee that, and he has the power to ensure that. An innocent stranger will receive very close to the same treatment, too.

W. Worst: What is your OC’s worst flaw?

Sandrone

He accidentally gaslights people a lot.. Like he lies to lie at times because he's so used to it? And if you've never been gaslit you are so lucky, its such an awful feeling. A lot of the time when he does it to people he cares about, he really doesn't even notice. And I think that's pretty much his worst one. I mean and he kills people but w/e.

Ohm

He's self destructive. It's such a big part of his character and just who he is and it shows a lot about who he actually is. Ohm can't stand what he's been pushed into doing and yet he continues to do it. He'd do anything to wash himself of these feelings and it leads to incredible self destructive behaviour. He also kills people but w/e.

X. X-ray: Does your OC believe that they’re a good person? Would you consider them a good person?

Sandrone

No, he doesn't believe he's a good person. I, as his creator, know that he's a genuinely good person put into a bad situation and forced to make bad choices to survive. He just doesn't see it that way, he can't, he's been conditioned to believe whatever they need him to believe to get him complacent.

Ohm

Also doesn't believe he's a good person. And I, as his creator, know that he's bad at his core, but he tries so hard to do good things. He wasn't given a chance, not really. He tries to make up for it, tries to cleanse his sins, but that blood never washes off..

Y. Young: How has your OC been influenced by their past? Are they a better person because of their past, or a worse one?

-looks into the camera-

The answer is the same for both of them. Heirs to a clan favoured by Celestia, paths set in fate, destinies controlled by stars. They are influenced by things even further than their own pasts. Sandrone was allowed to forget his past, forget who he is, and what he means. Is that good? Is that bad? Who knows. But when he did remember as a child, he was very much influenced by it. Then Ohm, well.. Past mistakes and failures are who he is, right? The last thing he remembers is his father's words too him regarding destiny and given how ingrained that is in their family line. Well..

The past means everything to them.

Z. Zealous: Does your OC have any guilty pleasures? If so, what? (Watching reality TV, drinking soda, reading cheesy romance novels, etc.)

Answered here

[alicemitch09writes]

the catastrophic history of us

PAIRING: ryoumen sukuna x reader

SUMMARY: This is a story of two people - one was destined to see all while the other was destined to be all-powerful.

They came from different factions of society, though not entirely different if you compare a humble hut versus the slums.

This is a love story.

But it is not a happy one.

A/N: This is a continuation and sort of prequel to 'written in the stars' which gives light on why exactly Sukuna killed the reader and what he meant by 'waited a thousand years for this'. It's been in my head for a while and was an idea I wanted to try.

From what I've researched, Ryoumen Sukuna is said to hail from royalty while some he was just there, so I kinda wanna explore more on his background and ended up crafting my own. I'm sorry if it's kinda cliche. I ended up using the already existing lore about him, but added a bit of my own to fit the story and the narrative I want.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

This is a story of two people - one was destined to see all while the other was destined to be all-powerful.

They came from different factions of society, though not entirely different if you compare a humble hut versus a grandiose palace, a benevolent being versus a power-hungry one, one who dances with the mystic arts versus one who challenges the fates, one royal highness and his royal spiritual advisor, - two very different beings destined to meet, destined to fall together, destined to be together.

This is a love story.

But it is not a happy one.

This is a story of two star-crossed lovers.

But again, to reiterate, this is not a happy story. There is no happy ending here.

Legends speak of a name, so feared and great that just the mention of it sent shivers down the spines of many – young, old, human, curses.

Just the mention of his name was akin to devastation and disaster, killing all forms of life regardless of status.

Ryoumen Sukuna.

Also known as ‘King of Curses’.

Call his name, and you are invoking yourself to a life of damnation, of no return, of death.

However, once upon a time, Ryoumen Sukuna was once a simple man.

A prince to be exact, son to the Great Emperor, heir to the throne, general commander of the royal army, and quite possibly, the strongest warrior in the land.

Once upon a time, Ryoumen Sukuna was a man of great power and privilege.

He could take soldiers with a swift blow of his sword, could conquer lands in a day, with only a swagger down the road that could bring the mightiest men quaking, could overpower just about anyone with only his presence - his menacing and great presence.

Wise beyond his years, versatile in combat, cynical, ambitious, and wicked – these were the traits of the soon-to-be Emperor? How unsettling. The kingdom would no sooner meet its demise and burn into flames than to shine brightly with a ruler with blood and warfare on his mind.

Many had thought so as well, yet did little.

For what can they do against someone who can promise dominion and power? They can all but kneel and acquiesce to his bidding.

He did possess a younger twin brother, but compared to his brother, he was passable at best. The brother doesn't talk much, says very little, but paid close attention to his surroundings, his companions, even to his older brother, whom he admired greatly.

It was sometime during his time as a prince when fate decided to play their hand.

But no one saw it coming.

Save for one.

The Emperor’s royal spiritual adviser, the kingdom’s revered onmyouji known only by the name (Y/N).

"That's quite the look on your pretty face, (Y/N)."

Sighing, the (h/c)-haired woman ever so carefully dipped her brush into the ink well before continuing her writing.

"Oya? No wisecracks this time?" the voice drew near, she could feel his hot breath beside her ear. "Is that any way to speak to your future king?"

Unfazed, she dipped her brush into the well again, careful strokes bleeding into the paper. "Truly not worth his royal highness' time if I even breathe or say a word."

Even without looking, she knows he's smirking. He knows he got what he wanted, ever the child.

Silence filled in. She, continuing on with her scrolls, and he, lazily perched himself awfully close to her side, sliding his gaze from her eyes, her face, to her kimono, to her nimble fingers.

From the first moment he laid eyes on her, he was fascinated by her very being. More so, when she revealed that she was to be the royal onmyouji with the ability to see all. 

Technically, her position was better suited for a man, especially a man from a renowned jujutsu family – for trivial reasons.

However, no man could ever compete with one with an all-seeing eye, with impressive control of her cursed energy other than this woman, this strange woman.

No one else but her.

He would like to think that he became a man no long sooner after their first verbal spat, after their second introduction – having differing ideals and morals, never backing from the other despite their status. He and his twin had just turned 18, a prime age for the king to be. It was what drew them together in the first place.

From the moment their eyes met, he had unwillingly declared this fascinating woman as his and only his.

When she was finished writing, just as she laid her brush aside, a hand slammed on the table. She didn’t flinch, even as the man effortlessly picking her up into his arms. "Surely you must be bored from all that gibberish writing, eh?"

Allowing herself a genial smile, (e/c) eyes alit with life, she draped her arms around his strong shoulders. 

"Must I remind you time and time again that they're readings?" Fingers slipped and carded through his locks, grabbing tufts of hair playfully. Tilting her head, she used her free hand to ghost over his strong jawline. “Your great kingdom would crumble would it not be for said readings. Lives would be lost. Blood will be shed. Your name tarnished and damned-”

"Blah, blah, blah, is all I can hear you say," pushing her against the wall, he welcomed himself between her legs, drawing himself ever so close to her. “Don’t you ever get tired of spouting bullshit?”

“Surely you would know,” she gasped as something hard pressed against her core. “that’s all your mouth is good for: running your filthy mouth.”

He met her smirk with his, hot breath fanning hers. “And here I thought you’d be this docile diviner.” Scoffing, he drew close. “Thank fuck I was wrong.”

Hot lips pressed against hers, just as the ink dried out and the shadows danced in the dark.

"We order you to join forces with us destroy Ryoumen Sukuna."

"I refuse."

Even she can't deny that the man she loved was a danger to everyone, probably to all of humanity. He was quick to be enamored with power, sadistic even in his means to achieve greater feats and exploit his foes.

Eventually, she saw how the man she came to love drastically turned into the cynical, malevolent King of Curses he was.

Mad with power, ambition, and glory, in order to achieve all and more he sought out the dark mystics that made him murder his younger twin brother granting him his grotesque figure - two faces, added appendages, and dark marks littering his body.

It started with a vision. Then came the prophecy.

Overnight, a brother was murdered in cold blood by his own, through his blood spawned the King of Curses.

Many months were soon bathed in more blood as he sought nothing more but destruction and chaos,

In the end, she knew what she had to do, what must be done, what must happen, what was foretold – even if it ends up breaking her heart.

"Could you do it?"

"...I have no choice."

This is it, she thought. The end.

The end of the beginning.

Fire licked throughout the field, soot rising from the ashes, craters, devastation lurked wherever the eye could see. There was even the occasional ice covered in blood, sometimes encasing 

It had been a long, treacherous, arborous, and exhausting battle – sorcerers and Imperial soldiers against fellow sorcerers and curses.

Jujutsu sorcerers – especially the high-ranking ones from esteemed clans, set aside their petty differences for this one battle, to put down the King of Curses.

Ryoumen Sukuna.

It was a hard-earned battle, as Ryoumen Sukuna had with him a rather interesting set of warriors to fend off against them.

But finally, they got him.

In the middle of all this madness and bloodshed, a victor was finally declared.

And it wasn’t him.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?" He screamed, binding spells forcing him to his knees, his whole body weakened and paralyzed by countless battles and countless spells against him. “(Y/N)!? HOW COULD YOU!?”

She forced herself to hold him down as the sorcerers around her continued their spells.

Amidst it all - the undeniable pain, the humiliation of being pinned, the utter betrayal - Ryoumen Sukuna turned to her and only her, red eyes burning her very being, as though ready to incinerate and devour her on the spot.

At the front line, that’s where she was to be – supposed to be, as she was their leverage to get close to the King of Curses.

She was leverage at best, the one thing that can keep Ryoumen Sukuna down - despite the countless claims that no one and nothing can do so.

"In this life, know that you were always the man I hold closest to my heart, the warmth on a cold winter's day, the joy from a day's tiresome work. There is no one but you, Ryoumen Sukuna," she was openly crying now, uncaring of anyone and anything. "But in this life, we cannot be."

The spell had been cast, paralyzing Sukuna, allowing the rest of the jujutsu sorcerers to attack.

With the final blow, she poured a bit of herself into her final, most powerful spell. Sealing him and vaporizing any memory of her in it, emptying his being until he was but an empty husk.

"YOU BITCH! YOU LIED TO ME!" Despite being in constant pain, his body slowly reddening and wax appearing all over, he found it in himself to spout angrily at her. "WAS EVERYTHING A LIE!?"

Memories upon memories - of their first meeting, their first verbal spat, their next meeting, him cornering into a corner, of their first kiss, of their first night, of their many nights, of promises under the sheets, of eyes searching, of eyes yearning, of eyes hurting - voided one after the other.

"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU DEAD, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" He doesn't mean it, she tells herself, adding more spells that caused him to scream in even more pain.

"Y-YOU FUCKING BITCH! I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!" His eyes were blank, regarding her with all the hatred man could possess. "YOU'LL BE THE FIRST PERSON I KILL THE MOMENT I GET BACK!" choking on blood, he feels himself weaken. "I SWEAR IT! I'LL KILL YOU THE FIRST MOMENT I GET!"

A sob escaped her, as much as she tried to swallow it down. To no avail, she cannot fake her remorse, her pain. She knew it was the right thing to do, for the betterment of all – humans and sorcerers, but it cost her so much sorrow and pain.

"Nothing is a lie," she croaked, feeling the last of her energy leave her, tearfully gazing into the eyes of her beloved. "But I have to say goodbye."

And just like that, the King of Curses was no more.

And when the fighting was over, the Seer vanished without a trace.

It came abruptly.

Without warning, without a sound, without a whisper, without a call.

The end of the beginning.

Of when fate decided to try its hand with life, changing the course of all.

For a thousand years ago, the jujutsu society was at its high boasting about great families within their ranks and a seer to guide them all.

The seer, who were specialists in the mystics and great beyond, who helped build empires, defend against curses, win wars - the great seer revered, respected, and treasured. 

Alas, this seer fled, vanished, and doomed the jujutsu society.

For without her visions, how can the sorcerers ever know of the truth and lies that the future holds, to protect them from whatever threatens them? Of the corruption that would soon waste them away? Their arrogance and overdependency on her visions became their downfall, yet few could actually attest to that.

The jujutsu world was a strange, fickle, archaic, and destructive kind with an equally disturbing system. A system unwilling to change, unwilling to adapt, willing only to lead by example.

After her disappearance, they were left with crumbs to pick up, on where she'd be for their next life - for without her visions, how would they be able to secure safety for themselves?

(how selfish of them)

Lo and behold, a thousand years later, and she would appear again, outside of Japan and born half a Gojo! What tremendous luck they have!

Without wasting another second, they sent their best sorcerers to abduct the child and took her by force from her mother, bringing her all the way to Japan.

Only they could have their hands on this seer, one they've waited for thousands for years, one who remains theirs, rightfully theirs, one who has to atone for her sins of leaving the jujutsu society vulnerable all those years ago.

Yes, this child must bear the sins of her ancestors, must live a life for the future of the jujutsu sorcerers.

She is theirs.

Theirs and theirs alone!

But alas, Gojo Satoru caught wind of the other Gojo, singlehandedly took her from them and took her under his care.

How dare he!

So long as he was alive, no way would they ever get their hands on the seer, the great diviner, the all-seeing eye!

How dare he!

Gojo Satoru who manages to effortlessly insert himself in situations he shouldn't be, halting or stopping decisions entirely, establishing his presence as the strongest sorcerer - a title that many of them cannot deny, with much disdain, he, who is without a shred of doubt, a threat.

The Gojo seer continued to live her life, foolishly and blissfully unaware of her true value. Foolish little girl!

The past and present converged into one another, tightly wounding and bounding, meshing and mixing in between the seems, for a future nobody knows, a future nobody is prepared for, but a future nonetheless for all.

However, unbeknownst to all - even to the jujutsu higher-ups, the Great Gojo Satoru, and his beloved little sister, the future in store was not kind. No.

It's as though the past comes back to haunt, to call out for sins to be repented.

Strange as it seems, it all went according to plan - Gojo Satoru finding out about his sister, Fushiguro Megumi sent to Sendai, Miyagi to fetch a cursed object and meeting Itadori Yuuji, Itadori Yuuji ingesting said cursed object and hosting Ryoumen Sukuna, reviving the King of Curses after a thousand years. Yes. Marvelous. All according to plan. 

The characters were set, ties looming into each other. Glorious.

It was inevitable, that these characters had special ties connecting them with each other, keeping their lives intertwined, for such was the plan for the grander scheme of things.

There was nothing.

A sea of nothing.

Endless nothing.

It went on and on and on and on and on and on.

It was a nothing that comforting, a nothing where nothing existed, a nothing where nothing was felt.

It was a nothing with that - nothing.

The perfect word for it would be void, however, voids can still have something in them.

And there was red.

A field of red spread across, going on forever and ever and ever.

Curious, she got to her knees to inspect. A flower, it was a red flower with six umbels and a long stamen, blooming outward, as though seeking life. Fingering through its petals, her eyes followed along millions of them spread.

Suddenly, a cold chill ran down her. For some reason, she looked up, meeting nothing.

And yet, she remembered the feeling dwelling in her in a sea of nothing.

Yes, she remembered this feeling.

She knows that feeling.

"Where am I?" a voice cut through the nothing.

In front of her stood someone who looked exactly like her, except, one pair of her eyes had the trademark Six Eyes of the Gojo clan, there was a streak of white running down the right side of her hair, and she was dressed in clothing much different from hers.

Recognition fell upon her, blinking calmly as a faint smile graced her lips.

“Who are you?” asked the girl.

Her smile turned sad as she approached, crushing the flowers under her feet.

The same recognition fell unto her mismatched eyes, but probably not the same kind of recognition she had.

With the gentleness akin to a mother, she eyed the girl before her.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, her voice echoing in the dark. “I’m sorry to have cursed you – all of you,” confusion crosses her face, it hurts her even more. “to have you all carry my burden." The red all around them seemed to glow, a vibrant, blinding red. "I’m sorry.”

Confusion continued to riddle her features, which makes this meeting just more bittersweet.

And then came rain, pouring down on them.

It washed over them, over the flowers.

And then nothing.

Come a thousand years later, and there they were.

A promise foretold, enacted finally.

He, a man resurrected from the dead, free from the curses that kept him away, taking what was rightfully his with her beating heart in his.

And she, a shell of a woman in the form of her now empty descendent.

At last, he had his comeuppance, at last, he got his revenge.

As he devoured her heart, feeling the remaining pieces of his powers return, as did the memories. What a cruel twist of fate.

Suddenly, his mind felt like a rush of water downstream. He could feel his immeasurable power returning, could feel in pumping his veins, yet at the same time, there were tears.

Elsewhere was Fushiguro Megumi, screaming over and over the name of the woman he had just killed – a scream of desperation, anguish, and pain. Why did it sound so familiar?

Finding a blackened uniform, hovering over a body laid in her own pool of blood, the boy continued to scream and scream.

Fushiguro Megumi was a man he couldn’t wait to see at his full potential for battle, another in his list of to-kills, having shown great potential as a jujutsu sorcerer and as part of the wretched Zen’in. But this was far from the man he knew, all he saw was a weeping boy, a boy who lost his mind as he was grieving, begging over and over a corpse, the corpse of his beloved.

Satisfied, he should be, right? Yet, why doesn't he feel it? Why does a part of him feel a great loss? Why does a part of him feel as though he was the one with a ripped soul?

A flash of white came to view, standing next to the crying boy, his stance was rigid, apart from that nothing with his back turned.

Kneeling, Gojo Satoru let his fingers press against the dead girl's eyelids, closing them shut. His hands fell to her cheeks, engulfing them in his large fingers, lingering, thumbs caressing her ice-cold cheeks. Once filled with warmth and life.

"Megumi," says Gojo Satoru, cursed energy just radiating off him. "mind if ya take yourself and (Y/N) aside?" lowering his blindfold, his cursed energy increased in power, reeking of maliciousness. "Things are about to get messy."

He met Gojo Satoru's murderous look head-on, finally getting that fight he long promised him.

And yet, as he stood there, tears leaked from his eyes.

Even with all his powers returned, him being at his full glory, his heart felt more hollow than before.

[songofclarity]

I must have missed that part where it was someone other than Nie MingJue who let Meng Yao join his Sect? Who stood up to all the people who would insult Meng Yao for his low birth? Who looked Meng Yao in the face and acknowledged him as a capable and intelligent person who deserved opportunities in life? Who wrote a recommendation letter to Meng Yao's dad and Sect Leader to give Meng Yao a fighting chance to get to where he wanted to go? Who became sworn brothers with Meng Yao in an attempt to guide him on the right path and toward his full potential?

These are not the actions of someone who is oblivious to class and social expectations. When Meng Yao served tea at Hejian, when all the other guests in the room snubbed him, when Lan XiChen thanked him and drank from the cup, Lan XiChen was not starting something new. Lan XiChen was adding support to what Nie MingJue was already, publicly doing on Meng Yao’s behalf.

Nie MingJue, as shown at the cave, is not blind to how Meng Yao is treated by others. He absolutely doesn’t tolerate it, but he also doesn’t believe what those people think should matter in the scope of things.

Nie MingJue, "A proper man should carry himself with proud righteousness. There's no need to care for the talk of those idlers." (ERS, ch 48)

No, Nie MingJue is not dismissing what those people were saying. He’s simply pointing out that Meng Yao shouldn’t feel bad about what they are saying because their words do not define him. In a story that warns about the dangers of rumors and mob mentality, Nie MingJue is one of our shining protagonists. He makes decisions for himself and gives opportunities where they are due. No one save Lan XiChen, whom he trusts as a good and honorable person, has any sway over him. Rumors and the power of the mob simply do not work on Nie MingJue, who lives by doing the right thing rather than what is convenient, which is why Jin GuangYao and the Jin Sect find it more convenient to kill him later.

And no, Nie MingJue does not treat Meng Yao like a servant! Nie MingJue has never treated Meng Yao like a servant. Please stop saying that because it’s wrong. It ignores everything we know about Nie MingJue’s character and Meng Yao’s aggressive self-agency policy.

[On] the front lines, one person was used as though there were six; there wasn't any space for maids and servants at all. And so, these everyday trivialities had also been willingly accepted by [Meng Yao], his deputy. (ERS, ch. 48)

Meng Yao was Nie MingJue’s deputy (he became an important person because Nie MingJue saw him as a person first!) and Meng Yao volunteered for his roles. Why? Because he is ambitious and the best place to find opportunities and learn things is to be in the middle of things.

(Nie disciple,) "Resigned your ass. He's put so much energy into this. Don't you see how hard he's working? Everyday he runs around trying to get on everyone's good sides. He's sick for hoping to accomplish something so that his dad accepts him." (ERS, ch. 48)

Meng Yao is smart and opportunistic and he is thriving in the Nie Sect as Nie MingJue’s deputy. With Nie MingJue having acknowledged him, no one dares say a word against him. All they can do is just suffer dehydration and not drink the tea Meng Yao offers them in their silent protest. Lan XiChen is the second pillar holding up this arch and giving Meng Yao room to breath, but the one who gave Meng Yao a place out of the rain was Nie MingJue.

Nie MingJue never sees the detestable and non-empathetic side of Meng Yao until Meng Yao leaves the Nie Sect. Meng Yao murders the Jin disciple, Meng Yao murders the Nie disciples, Meng Yao abuses Nie MingJue in Nightless City, Meng Yao is protecting Xue Yang at the cost of dozens or hundreds of innocent people who don’t want to be murdered by Xue Yang, and Meng Yao insinuates that he’s willing to sacrifice everyone else for his own ambitions before he’ll ever put his own neck on the line.

Nie MingJue’s main dispute with Meng Yao is a moral one first and foremost. He never accuses Meng Yao or Jin GuangYao of being a bad person or one who is nonredeemable. Nie MingJue gives Jin GuangYao opportunities to redeem himself until the utter, bitter end. His dispute is that Meng Yao/Jin GuangYao is killing a lot of people who should not be killed. His dispute is that Meng Yao/Jin GuangYao is sacrificing innocent people for his own political gain.

This is LEAGUES away from the Meng Yao whom Nie MingJue sought after the battle for doing a good job in his duties at protecting the common folk. The problem is that Meng Yao never protected those people because they deserved to be protected. He protected them because he was doing a good job. Within the Nie Sect, protecting people was a job. Within the Jin Sect, killing people is a job. Jin GuangYao is never shown feeling for them in any way -- which is at odds with Nie MingJue, who feels very, very deeply over the murder of his Nie subordinates to the point he’s wiling to commit suicide to give them justice.

Nie MingJue is part of the elite but he also shows, repeatedly, that his role is to protect and defend, not to rule and dominate. (This is a novel-centered rambling but there’s a whole other conversation that needs to be had about CQL, Nie MingJue, and that chair.) The common folk deserve to live and the strong are meant to protect the weak. Meng Yao benefited from Nie MingJue using his status to give Meng Yao a hand-up in the world when no one else would.

Lan XiChen wields his pristine manners to defend Meng Yao to the rudeness in the room, but the only one he’s willing to speak to on Meng Yao’s behalf is Nie MingJue, Lan XiChen’s closest companion. Not even Lan XiChen writes a recommendation on Meng Yao’s behalf for having saved his life. Because it’s always been Nie MingJue, the one willing to forgive and accept and protect, who was Meng Yao and later Jin GuangYao’s greatest ally.

Therefore it comes to reason that if Lan XIChen can reconcile Nie MingJue and Meng Yao, Nie MingJue will continue to do what Lan XiChen, for one reason and another, cannot: tell people to shut the fuck up and think about what they are saying.

It just so happens the one who needs to be told to shut the fuck up and think about what he’s saying, what he’s doing, is actually Jin GuangYao.

Meng Yao joined the Jin sect the first time because Nie MingJue supported him to do so. Meng Yao returned to the Jin sect as a war hero because Nie MingJue supported him to do so -- even though by all rights NIe MingJue should have killed him for what he had done to the Jin disciple and at Nightless City, spy or no spy. Meng Yao was acknowledged by his father in large part because Nie MingJue forgave him for his crimes and offered him another opportunity to succeed at life. There was no way Jin GuangShan could let Nie MingJue and Lan XiChen gain all the glory. It looked bad for Jin GuangShan to continue to pretend that his now war-hero son didn’t exist, thus Jin GuangShan was forced to acknowledge Meng Yao as well despite it being abundantly clear that Jin GuangShan still didn’t want him.

So Meng Yao now Jin GuangYao is where he wants to be. He wants to preserve and use the elitist establishment that Nie MingJue had shoved aside in order to give Jin GuangYao his first chance at opportunity. The entitled system that kicked Meng Yao down the Koi Tower steps was the same system Jin GuangYao was defending when Nie MingJue kicked him down as well.

And the moment Nie MingJue showed he meant to protect and help other pitiful and innocent people from abuses caused by the system that kicked Meng Yao down the stairs that first time, Jin GuangYao murdered him for it.

But just because Jin GuangYao is an ungrateful little shit doesn’t mean what Nie MingJue did or tried to do to help him doesn’t matter or didn’t happen. It just means that Jin GuangYao is an ungrateful little shit. Please stop trying to make Jin GuangYao’s sins a fault in Nie MingJue’s character. Nie MingJue did his best for him, which is why Jin GuangYao lived in fear of him until the very end.

Nie MingJue, "Well you've really discerned where [HuaiSang's] heart lies, haven't you?"

Jin GuangYao smiled, "Of course. Isn't that what I'm the best at? The only person whom I can't discern is you, Brother." (Ch. 49)

Jin GuangYao never did a deed without expecting to gain something from it while Nie MingJue gave and forgave and asked for nothing in return. How terrifying it must have been for Jin GuangYao to be in a debt of kindness that he could never repay with all the acquired riches at his possession.

[faimrpg]

Hello, and welcome to member appreciation time! Every week, I’ll be posting a snippet from everyone’s blogs that I felt was jaw-droppingly fantastic, as both a thanks to you for being here and putting your character on the dashboard, and so other members can appreciate your artistry as well. There is no doubt in my mind that writing is, perhaps, the most grueling fucking hobby in the world. It’s hard to do, difficult to grapple with, and often time consuming, but the fantastic part is that we do it anyways, and everyone else gets the opportunity to read it. I don’t want this blurb to get too long, so I’ll be shutting up shortly, but I’d like say from the bottom of my heart that I am grateful that you’re all here!

AGRIPPINE: Who is this noble who speaks with more authority than Agrippine has in their entire body, who calls them champion yet treats them like a child? It’s hardly an offense to their pride, of which they have so little. Even they can’t deny they have swum too far into the deep end, over their head and out of their league whilst at court. No noble lies awake in the dark, haunted by what they do not remember and what they may never find.

BEAU: It’s against her very nature to step out of the shadows and into the opening, to be so vulnerable. Her heart is racing, at the sight of the ghost in front of them as their footsteps grow closer and closer. Closer than they’ve been in so long, there’s no doubt in her mind now as she catches surprised but so familiar brown eyes.

CECILE: It is still a regular occurrence that Cecile brings flowers to her mother’s grave, and shares a peaceful silence with her final resting place. She still talks to her, sometimes. But these days, more often than not her worries are not things she can say aloud, even in the quiet of the graveyard, for fear of who may be listening.

CYRIL: She wanted out of there. Cyril can still feel the tension she felt back in that room surrounding her, even as she put as much distance between her and that place. She’s used to gilded halls and marble floors, not blood pools growing bigger by the heartbeat. Her bubble had burst and Cyril was afraid.

DEGARE: Degaré knows well that anything whispered over a flagon is tricky, fickle, maybe even downright false. It could be fact, could be fiction—himself, he doesn’t much care. Whether the honest truth or little more than a myth men tell themselves, he knows one party likely to be interested.

GISELE: Surely, the word Lady has never been uttered with such distaste, so jarringly, transparently through gritted teeth in an otherwise lyrical performance, like a pianist striking a discordant note midway through a scale. “Is your nobility nothing more than a hat you don only when convenient and matching your dress? Have you been attending Court only to gawk at your own gowns, as though this were nothing but a showroom for your wares?”

HELENE: She knows what Helene has done, all of the sins and all of the misery exacted on behalf of Celestine, but she could never truly understand that power was merely secondary to order. Order kept her lands green, order kept violent warfare on the streets, and order prevented yet another King of Fools from emerging underneath the rot and filth that seemed to only well up in the streets where the nobles dared to tread.

ISEULT: Names had never been his forte— he’d sooner know her by her blade of choice, in all the places it’d previously clashed with his. As was the Guild and Underworld rapport: the honest sellsword awaited their turn at the billet bank, the successful one poached theirs. No contract passed without protest, and Iseult knew by sound alone he’d had the (mis)fortune of crossing theirs in the field before.

LIANE: Undoubtedly, they take her for a fool, nearly retching on their own tongue in the hopes of cradling Liane’s undivided attention in the palm of their hand like a child who wishes to thieve shining stars from the night sky. She has half a mind to disregard the act, to leave well enough alone, but a trail of vines thorn around her blackened heart as she teeters on the brink of hunger, and as luck would have it, Sidonie Dupont appears to be ripe for the taking.

MATTHIEU: Matthieu gnashes his teeth together. He catches his lip in the press: vice-grip, vice-sanction. He thinks about his friends, now notches in the frame of his bed; crosses and circles, sleeping together with the rest of his kills. He thinks about the weight of Leon’s hand. The way it perched on the back of his neck, the tight sound in his throat when he whispered into his skin. Maybe we’ll go somewhere, you and I. What do you say? After this is over.

PATRICE: The adrenaline had kept his mind far from the stinging feeling of the cut across his bicep, but now, the warmth of blood flowing down his skin, a calm river compared to the pounding of his heart, that made it feel as if his veins were roaring rapids in contrast.

REGIS: Long strides take him past rows and rows of soldiers who have made themselves into the shape of ornamental decorations. They do not blink. They do not breathe. They dare not move. An occasion of some kind has called Alain here today, thus his presence, but Régis is here with other intentions.

SAINTE: Sainte knows that to outsiders, her morals may look skewed. How can one take a man’s head off his body, and still feel wrong telling a lie? Perhaps she’s balancing things however she can. Some things, she feels, have been set out before her by Odeline, so very clearly. Other decisions are hers to make alone, and feel, therefore, much more muddy.

SAVATIER: A wild, young world is often violent; but the bloodshed committed in the name of order has always left Savatier with a strange taste. He’d live freely before the displacement, knowing no rulers nor loyalty aside from that to the earth’s phenomena, and Odeline. Odd, to be asked to pledge similar faith in an Empress who has sacrificed nothing besides familial blood.

SIDONIE: If one looked closely enough, they would notice the fire brimming in their gaze— a stilling anger that they attempted to reel in as they watched her, completely unmoving. They loathed the way the nobles looked upon her as if she were their courtly pet. As if she’d been there for to sole purpose of their entertainment, and not a living, breathing human. They would never know her— never learn her in the way she had, but this Violaine did not mind.

VIOLAINE: If only I could spend a lifetime impressing you, they do not say, because admitting such would turn what was previously palpable, present occasionally in her lingering gaze, or even the hesitation of her whispers, into something tactile, permanently cauterized into the webs of their affections. So soon they would not sully their mind with doubt.

YVON: From within her sleeve a stretch of white is drawn, the watery silk reminiscent of the shucking of milky, pale meat from a sea creature’s gold shell. Yvon extends the square in pinched fingers, pearlescent and thin as it hangs in the air between them. Here, a thing from within my husk.

ZHENYA: Such was the nature of the tenuous push and pull by which they were bound; in her furious suspicion and flaring spite, Gisele burned, and with his chilled apathy and callous disregard, Zhenya only ever stoked the flames.

[randomfandomimagine]

Flowers (Arthur Pendragon x Reader)

Characters: Arthur Pendragon, Merlin Emrys

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Tags: Marriage proposal, love confessions, fluff and angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,4k words

Requested by anon: Hi dear I hope you are doing well would you be willing to write a ficlet for Arthur pendragon x reader were hes getting ready to purposes but reader is worried he wants to break up or something because he is being pretty secretive and if merlin could be in there to that would be wonderful i hope this is keeping to your rules if not sorry anyway please and thank you 

Arthur Pendragon x Gender Neutral Reader

_

The castle was swarming with people, and yet it felt empty somehow. Your footsteps echoed around the hallways, only increasing the feeling of loneliness. Everyone was behaving strangely lately, although you thought that perhaps they were only busy. It did feel like something was happening that you had no knowledge of.

A familiar figure appeared before you, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his him. He didn’t glance at you, yet you didn’t know if it was because he had not noticed you or if he was pretending not to.

“Arthur!” You called him as your paths crossed and you stopped before each other. “Arthur, dear”

“Not now, Y/N” He briefly replied, not bothering to even look at you still.

“But…” You held on to his arm, feeling the cold touch of his metal armguards spreading through your body and freezing your heart. “I just want to talk to you”

“I have somewhere to be” Arthur replied, continuing to walk like you weren’t there. Your fingers slipped off his arm as he did, leaving you holding on to nothing. An empty void joined the coldness of your heart.

Not knowing what else to do, you just stood there in the middle of the hallway, watching how he walked away. Arthur didn’t turn around nor glanced at you over his shoulder. Not even once.

You sighed, restless as you thought of a way to end your strife. What was the matter with him? For quite a while now you had been together, inseparable, but now… Arthur seemed to avoid you, he was distant and impatient. Perhaps he didn’t want to be with you any longer, perhaps he had grown tired of the relationship.

The sound of footsteps claimed your attention, and you smiled hopefully as you lifted your gaze. It must be Arthur, who realized his ill manners and had returned to apologize, surely! On the contrary, you saw someone else hurrying along the hallway.

“Merlin!” You called, mentally begging for him to pay attention to you. Fortunately, your friend stopped in his tracks and smiled at you. It was a warm gesture, familiar and comforting. It seemed that he had nothing against you, unlike everyone else.

“Yes?” He asked, looking you up and down. “Is something the matter, Y/N?”

“I…” You frowned, overwhelmed by a sudden urge to cry. Noticing this, Merlin put a hand on your arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. This encouraged you enough to continue speaking. “I fear Arthur is mad at me”

“Arthur?” Your friend chuckled, letting go of you. “That’s silly, Y/N. You know Arthur adores you”

As he spoke, Merlin averted his gaze. Watching him intently, you realized he was pursing his lips as though he was trying to keep quiet. You knew him enough to realize he kept something from you, as you had imagined.

“He is upset with me, isn’t he?” You sighed, wringing your hands in concern. “What is happening, Merlin? And why won’t anybody tell me?”

“I…” He cautiously returned your gaze. His eyes shone with empathy. “I can’t tell you”

“He will break up with me” You stated, more convinced by the second.

“No, I promise! You… he…” Merlin clicked his tongue, suddenly quite agitated. “I can’t tell you, Y/N, I’m sorry!”

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No” He paused to urgently take your hands in his. “You have nothing to worry about”

“But-“ You started, growing quiet when he vehemently shook his head.

“Trust me, Y/N” Merlin dedicated you a sweet smile. “Arthur loves you, and everything will make sense soon”

His eyes lingered on yours, silently asking you if you were okay and if you had understood what he was trying to tell you, if you believed him. The answer to all of those was no. You didn’t understand what was happening, and you were too hurt by Arthur’s demeanor to believe Merlin’s words of comfort. Nonetheless, you nodded your head.

“I must go” Merlin resolved, squeezing your hands one last time before letting go of them. “Be patient, he will come back to you”

There was this gentleness in his voice that meant to comfort you, just like the softness in his gaze. You nodded again, causing him to smile at you again before walking away.

Once more, you were left standing there alone as they left you behind. You resolved to return to your hiding place and walked inside your chambers again. They were too big for you, and Arthur only visited them during the night, although you were asleep by the time he arrived and lied down with you. As you lingered on your restless slumber, he held you tight every night and sighed at the wonderful feeling of you between his arms. You weren’t aware of this. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so worried over the situation, over your fear that Arthur had stopped loving you, because he loved you more than ever.

Unbeknownst to this, you absently paced up and down the room. You stared at the vase before you, delicately caressing the fragile petals. You remembered the day Arthur gifted you those flowers. Or rather, when he made Merlin bring them to you. You feared those days were over, in which you and Merlin joked about Arthur’s sappiness and his never ending gifts and affections directed at you. You feared that Arthur had grown tired of you, and you would wither like those flowers without their nurturing.

_

After quite a restless night, the sun had finally come out. The darkness ended, yielding to the light of dawn. Unable to fall back asleep, you feebly lay in bed. Negative thoughts plagued your mind, as well as that craving sensation that haunted you. Your hand fell over the side of the bed, there where Arthur was supposed to be laying with you. It was cold and empty. Had he visited your shared chambers at all last night?

You were startled when a knock suddenly came on the door. Quickly sitting up, you hurried to make yourself decent by clumsily combing your hair with your hands.

“Yes?” You asked, nervously reaching out for the hand mirror on your bedside table.

“It’s Merlin” Came his voice from the other side. “May I come in?”

You frowned, finding it unusual that he was so polite. As much as he was a servant, Merlin was your friend and often took some liberties. It was rare for him to knock at all.

“Of course” You muttered when you confirmed in your reflection that your appearance was good enough. Slowly, the door opened to reveal his smiling face. He peeked inside, looked behind him, and then came in.

“What’s the matter?” You asked him, wondering why he behaved so strangely.

“Someone wants me to deliver these to you” Merlin’s grin lingered, and it only grew wider as he revealed the big bouquet of flowers he concealed behind his back.

“Merlin!” You exclaimed in awe, taking them from him and admiring them in your hands. There were flowers of all colors, all of them producing a pleasant scent to accompany the beautiful sight they were. “Who sends them?”

Exchanging a glance with him, you had a growing suspicion. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought, and they only increased when your friend looked behind him.

“Y/N is wide awake” He was saying to whoever hid behind the door. “You can come in now”

At the sight of a tall blond man, you tried to hide your excitement. Arthur had become so distant that your familiarity turned to hesitance and forced closeness. Nonetheless, as he stood there you couldn’t even be mad at him. Despite his broad complexion and high stature, he appeared incredibly vulnerable as he timidly averted his beautiful blue eyes.

“Arthur?” You whispered, nearly afraid to scare him away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N” He started, daring to look up into your eyes. “I know I haven’t been the best partner these last few days”

“Y-You were busy” You chuckled, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt you. “Camelot needs you as much as I do”

“Perhaps, but that wasn’t the reason” Arthur took a cautious step forward. “I will never be too busy for you”

“Then why…?” You uttered, growing more confused by the second.

“I should go” Merlin suddenly mumbled, nervously stepping away, only to be stopped.

“Merlin, don’t leave me” Arthur begged him between grit teeth. Something was definitely the matter for him to require Merlin’s presence. What was he about to tell you that he needed his closest friend’s moral support?

“Arthur, you’re scaring me” The flowers shook in your hands. When you locked eyes with him, you were astonished to see no concern or sadness in them, only fondness. “What happened?”

What could excuse this behavior from both of them? What could possibly be occurring for him to be rendered in such a timid, timorous yet smitten state? It made absolutely no sense.

“I realized something” Arthur continued walking towards you until he was right before you. Then, he took the bouquet from your hands and absently handed it to Merlin. “Something that changed everything forever”

You helplessly glanced at Merlin, watching how he replaced the old withered bouquet of flowers with the new lively and colorful one. He was pressing his lips together and making a great effort not to watch you and intrude in that intimate moment.

“W-What is it?” You uttered as your gaze returned to your lover.

“I realized I am hopelessly lost in love with you” Arthur smiled, and despite it all you noticed the nervous twitch in his lips. “And how wonderful you are… and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you”

“What…?”

“Y/N…” One of your hands flew to your mouth when you saw Arthur sinking one knee on the floor and adoringly peering up at you. “Will you marry me?”

“What?!” You exclaimed, ignoring the badly contained noise of Merlin snickering next to you. “Is that what you were hiding from me?”

“Um…” Arthur, still kneeling down, froze for a moment. “Yes, I wanted to surprise you”

“I told you it was a bad idea to distance yourself…” Merlin said under his breath.

“Shut up, Merlin” The other one replied, soon after focusing his attention back on you. “For weeks I thought about the best way of proposing and yet… none of them seemed good enough for you, so… I decided to improvise”

You were left speechless by this discovery. When Arthur tenderly squeezed your hand, it dawned on you. You finally realized what was happening. Arthur had just asked you to marry him, he was proposing to you! That was what he was hiding!

“You scared me so badly” Suddenly overcome with emotion, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore”

“Forgive me, my love… That was never my intention” Arthur said from below. “Believe me when I say I could never stop loving you. I will make it up to you, I promise”

“Uh... Y/N…” Merlin whispered, calling attention to his long forgotten presence once more. “You haven’t given him an answer yet”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, startled by the realization. You had started shaking from head to toe at some point. In your mind, you were screaming at yourself to say ‘yes’ but you only gawked at him. You couldn’t utter even that simple word.

“Y/N” Arthur tried again, nearly making you swoon by the way in which he lovingly gazed at you, like his kingdom wasn’t even as precious to him as you were. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

A sob struck you, making it impossible to talk. You only stared at him, embracing the warmth of his hand against yours and just then seeing the beautiful ring he held up to you.

Moving sneakily, Merlin nudged you in the ribs. That gave you the encouragement you needed to reply once and for all. Unable to speak as you cried tears of joy, you decided to energetically nod your head instead.

Arthur heaved a big sigh, as he had been seemingly holding his breath all this time. His smile was almost blinding as he cheerfully jumped to his feet and slipped the ring around your finger. It was quite a hard task, as you were still shaking, though he only laughed a little about it. After all, his fingers felt clumsy too.

“I love you” He said, tenderly cradling your face into his hands and kissing you on the lips.

“I love you too…” You managed to say between sobs, hiding your head in his shoulder as you recovered from the many emotions that overwhelmed you.

As he tightly held you in his arms, Arthur laughed out of sheer happiness. You clutched on to his white tunic, starting to laugh a little yourself as you ran out of joyful tears. He placed a hand on the back of your head and sweetly kissed your temple.

“It didn’t quite go as I expected” Merlin joined your laughter too, although his sounded more amused than moved by emotion. “It was a disaster, honestly”

“You’re not helping, Merlin” Arthur told his friend. “Why are you laughing?”

“You should have seen your faces” Your friend laughed, pointing at both of you.

Arthur rolled his eyes, exasperated by his manservant as usual. It pulled a smile out of you, calming your racing heart as everything returned to normal.

“I thought you were worried about Y/N’s answer” He told him, but Merlin shook his head.

“I wasn’t, I knew Y/N would say yes” Merlin shrugged a little. “You’re made for each other”

Arthur left behind his joking reprimanding and vexed tone and acquired a more genuine one as he smiled at Merlin.

“Thank you, old friend” Soon, however, the gesture became mischievous. “But you have a lot to do now. You must help Y/N plan the wedding: the flowers, the food, the guests…”

Merlin sent you a look, one that screamed ‘help me’. You laughed, feeling how your nerves faded away completely and the excitement and glee settled. Arthur continued listing the things that Merlin needed to do for the wedding, and you only laughed more and clung on to him as he teased his friend.

Your eyes were directed towards the fresh bouquet adorning your vase. Red, yellow, pink, violet, orange, blue…  all the color that stained the petals seemed to seep into your life, transforming the dull black and white existence that you had been trapped in during all those long days into a rainbow of euphoria that foresaw happy days and loving moments.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @of-stardust-and-dreams​ / @caswinchester2000​ / @timeladygallifrey​ / @ladyxblake​ / @cracraforfandoms​ / @locke-writes​ / @dancingwith-thesunflowers​ / @nolanpatricksgfbackup / @lxncelot​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[michaelbogild]

Quotes by Mahatma Gandhi

A 'No' uttered from the deepest conviction is better than a 'Yes' merely uttered to please, or worse, to avoid trouble.

A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave.

A man is but the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes.

A man, whilst he is dreaming, believes in his dream; he is undeceived only when he is awakened from his slumber.

A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.

A thousand candles can be lighted from the flame of one candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness can be spread without diminishing that of yourself.

Always aim at complete harmony of thought and word and deed. Always aim at purifying your thoughts and everything will be well.

An error does not become truth by reason of multiplied propagation, nor does the truth become error because nobody will see it.

An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.

An ounce of practice is worth more than tons of preaching.

As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world - that is the myth of the atomic age - as in being able to remake ourselves.

Be the change that you wish to see in the world.

Compassion is a muscle that gets stronger with use.

Distinguish between real needs and artificial wants and control the latter.

Don't talk about it. The rose doesn't have to propagate its perfume. It just gives it forth, and people are drawn to it. Live it, and people will come to see the source of your power.

Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.

Earth provides enough to satisfy every man's needs, but not every man's greed.

Everyone holds a piece of the truth.

Fearlessness is the first requisite of spirituality. Cowards can never be moral.

Friendship that insists upon agreement on all things isn't worth the name.

God has no religion.

Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.

Hate the sin, love the sinner.

Honest differences are often a healthy sign of progress.

I call him religious who understands the suffering of others.

I cannot conceive of a greater loss than the loss of one's self-respect.

I may be a despicable person, but when Truth speaks through me I am

I want freedom for the full expression of my personality.

I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.

If I had no sense of humor, I would long ago have committed suicide.

If we are to reach real peace in the world, we shall have to begin with the children.

In a gentle way, you can shake the world.

In doing something, do it with love or never do it at all.

In matters of conscience, the law of the majority has no place.

In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth.

invincible.

It has always been a mystery to me how men can feel themselves honored by the humiliation of their fellow beings.

It is easier to build a boy than to mend a man.

It is wrong and immoral to seek to escape the consequences of one's acts.

It seems to me as clear as daylight that abortion would be a crime.

it's easy to stand in the crowd but it takes courage to stand alone

Liberty and democracy become unholy when their hands are dyed red with innocent blood.

Love is the strongest force the world possesses and yet it is the humblest imaginable.

Manliness consists not in bluff, bravado or loneliness. It consists in daring to do the right thing and facing consequences whether it is in matters social, political or other. It consists in deeds not words.

Many people, especially ignorant people, want to punish you for speaking the truth, for being correct, for being you. Never apologize for being correct, or for being years ahead of your time. If you’re right and you know it, speak your mind. Speak your mind. Even if you are a minority of one, the truth is still the truth.

My Life is My Message

No one can ride on the back of a man unless it is bent.

Nonviolence is a weapon of the strong.

Nothing has saddened me so much in life as the hardness of heart of educated people.

Nothing is so aggravating as calmness.

Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear of punishment.

Prayer is the key of the morning and the bolt of the evening.

Satisfaction lies in the effort, not in the attainment.

Seek not greater wealth, but simpler pleasure; not higher fortune, but deeper felicity.

Service which is rendered without joy helps neither the servant nor the served. But all other pleasures and possessions pale into nothingness before service which is rendered in a spirit of joy.

Silence becomes cowardice when occasion demands speaking out the whole truth and acting accordingly.

Speak only if it improves upon the silence.

The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.

The day the power of love overrules the love of power, the world will know peace.

The future depends on what you do today.

The greatness of humanity is not in being human, but in being humane.

The more efficient a force is, the more silent and the more subtle it is.

The path is the goal.

The seeker after truth should be humbler than the dust. The world crushes the dust under its feet, but the seeker after truth should so humble himself that even the dust could crush him. Only then, and not till then, will he have a glimpse of truth.

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

There are many causes I would die for. There is not a single cause I would kill for.

There are no good-byes, where ever you'll be, you'll be in my heart.

There are only two ways to live your life: as though nothing is a miracle, or as though everything is a miracle.

There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.

There are two days in the year that we can not do anything, yesterday and tomorrow

There is force in the universe, which, if we permit it, will flow through us and produce miraculous results.

There is no 'way to peace,' there is only 'peace.

There is no school equal to a decent home and no teacher equal to a virtuous parent.

There is no such thing as ‘too insane’ unless others turn up dead due to your actions.

There's no God higher than truth.

To forgive is not to forget. The merit lies in loving in spite of the vivid knowledge that one that must be loved is not a friend. There is not merit in loving an enemy when you forget him for a friend.

To give pleasure to a single heart by a single act is better than a thousand heads bowing in prayer.

True beauty lies in purity of the heart.

True love is boundless like the ocean and, swelling within one, spreads itself out and, crossing all boundaries and frontiers, envelops the whole world.

True morality consists not in following the beaten track, but in finding the true path for ourselves, and fearlessly following it.

Truth never damages a cause that is just.

We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. This is the divine mystery supreme. A wonderful thing it is and the source of our happiness. We need not wait to see what others do.

What barrier is there that love cannot break?

When asked what he thought of Western civilization): 'I think it would be a good idea.

Whenever you are confronted with an opponent. Conquer him with love.

Where love is, there God is also.

Where there is fear there is no religion.

Where there is love there is life.

You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind.

You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist.

You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is like an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.

You yourself as much as anybody in the entire universe deserve love and affection.

[magiefish]

hhhhhhhhhh guess who drew all the batim characters in prep for the comic they’re making!

yeah so it took like 4 days to draw all these guys, and it was actually pretty fun figuring out colours and designs and stuff!

(also, update on the Reveries Twisted comic, I have a plan for the first chapter but i have like, 7 tests next week and I haven’t started drawing it yet so it’s definitely not going to be coming out anytime soon sdfgsdfsj but i am still working on it!)

anyway, i felt like writing little descriptions for every character, so feel free to read these below the ‘keep reading’ line if you feel like it! My ask box is also always open, so if u have any questions feel free to ask

Bertrum Piedmont-he/him, gay/ace

-Started working as a mechanic at about 15 and worked his way up from there -Everyone in the studio @ him: why are u british -His big ego often gets in the way of things, but at his core he's a good person (doing bad shit but ultimately having good intentions is common among these guys shdgfs) -Wlw & mlm solidarity w/ Lacie, who is his most trusted confidant and friend -Actually treats his employees well, even when they do basically nothing all day, so he does a lot of work himself most of the time Linda Stein-she/her, straight as a ruler -Parents immigrated from Spain -She's very catholic and very into 'traditional family values' and that sort of stuff -She is sweet, but her strict morals and black and white ethics often make her do unintentional harm -She is also pretty oblivious to most things Jack Fain-he/him & they/them, pan/ace, OCD -Mother immigrated from China to France, and then he moved to America, it's confusing -Can play the violin really well, but is terrible at composing his own pieces -Peak friend material -Short and round and soft with a love of a good espresso -Kind and quiet but ultimately ineffective and happy to watch from the sidelines Daniel 'Buddy' Lewek-he/him, aro/ace, autistic, jewish -He is curious and observant, but very very naive -He finds it hard to pick up on social cues, and tends to daydream a lot -Never really had a father figure, and unfortunately kind of half sees Joey as one (baaaad choice), but his mother is great -Loves drawing and tends to chew on pens (and most objects really) -Too young Susie Campbell-she/her, demi -Her parents were Russian and she picked up their accent, but taught herself how to cover it up. She is now excellent at voice acting. -Has a birthmark most theatres turned her away for. But luckily voice acting gave her another chance at performance, and the music department really does not care about it. -Her dad was a butcher, so she now knows a concerning amount about how to cut up and dissect meat. -She gets easily attached to things emotionally, and has a whole pile of random bits and bops she keeps on her person because she can't throw them away. -Naive, but smart enough to know how to read and deceive people if needed. Ms Abigail Lambert-she/her, lesbian -A very gifted artist, who is quite frustrated with the business aspect of animation. -Picked up quite a few things about engineering from Lacie. -Stern, but kind. Motherly, if she likes you and you squint hard enough. -Used to fighting for things. -Giving her food is a pretty good way to get her to like you. Being an artist, she forgets to eat at the correct times a lot, so a meals always appreciated. Norman Polk-he/him, gay, albino -Knows how to fix things, knows how to fight, knows how to hide -General cool uncle vibes -He watches people a lot, and gives off some creepy vibes, but he does genuinely care about people -Knows something is up and is determined to find out what (even if he dies trying) -Fought in WW1, then worked at a cinema for a bit. Emma Lamont-she/her, heteroflexible -Keep dancing even when everything goes wrong -Bit of a 'i'm better than these fools' mentality going on -But she's pretty chill, and willing to act when needed -Basically every woman in the studio knows her on the basis that she chills in the girls bathroom. -Hates Joey, but knows those who stir up a bit too much trouble usually 'resign' Sammy Lawrence-he/him, (vocal-romantic) bi/ace, ADD -His dad sucked, so he ran away. He's also the reason he's largely abandoned his faith, but he still holds hope that there is some kind of god out there. -He and Jack are basically brothers, they've known each other for a long time. -He can compose music in his head, but can play basically every instrument. -Tall and thin and sharp with a love of black coffee. -He's actually pretty chill and nice, but the conditions of the studio (workload, noises, dreams) have left him quick to snap and a stressed out mess. -He's pretty oblivious to his own feelings and spends basically all his time thinking about music, so he usually only realises that he has a crush on someone if he hears them singing (hence the vocal-romantic joke) Johnny Hart-he/him (she/her), gay (trans), heart condition -A nervous wreck who avoids everything and everyone -Trans but doesn't realise it, he thinks this level of discomfort has something to do with his heart condition or something like that. -Speaking of which, if he gets genuinely terrified or panicked he could have a heart attack. -Hence why he's a recluse who remains in the organ room and interacts w/ literally no one. -Except Dot and Buddy (who forgets he exists and who he also has a crush on). Wally Franks-he/him, pan -Friends with literally everyone who isn't one of the older folks (and thomas) -Honorary member of the music department because he can play a harmonica and vibes with everyone there. -Tries to put a positive spin on everything, often beyond the point of reason -A mischevous, mildly selfish prankster with a heart of gold -Gossip pals with Susie and Norman The Violinist-she/her, nobody knows -Has literally never expressed an emotion ever -Seems to know things are going to happen before they happen -Just generally pretty weird -She isn't friends with Dot, they're both just vaguely interested in what the others doing -She looks a lot like Allison, but the two have never spoken and nobody knows if they're sisters Thomas Connor-they/them, gynephilia -He is just. So tired. -An actual mechanical genius who gets his work used for the wrong purposes. -Is very of the 'when you're on a path stick to it' mentality -Cold and hard exterior that vertually no one except Allison has ever managed to get through. -He can and will beat you up. Henry Stein-he/him, gay, vitiligo -Nice and hardworking. -Doesn't have many emotions other than to draw. -He's in fucking narnia he's so deep in the closest. -Feels emotions, but buries them deep down and doesn't express them too clearly. -Has difficulty setting healthy boundaries with people and represses himself far too much. Joey Drew-he/him, homoromantic/pansexual, bipolar disorder, alcohol and cigarette addictions -Chaotic, feral, short little man who lies to everyone -Charismatic as hell, but also a terrible friend and person in general -He doesn't blink enough, does not know the meaning of personal space, and hasn't aged for about 4 years, which are all very bad signs. -Doesn't understand how to run a business but does so anyway. Doesn't understand how to interact with people but does so anyway. Doesn't understand how to create life but does so anyway- -He isn't pure evil, he just gets into very bad mindsets and makes poor decisions that lead him down the wrongest way to go. -Does some self evaluation and goes 'maybe this wasn't the right way chief :/' just a bit too late Audrey Dempsey-she/her, lesbian, Borderline Personality Disorder -Feral conspiracy theorist -May or may not be related to multiple studio members -Everyone's called her crazy for years and made her feel like a burden, and she is hellbent on proving everyone wrong -Quite socially awkward, and rather sarcastic with a dark sense of humour -Works for Archgate Allison Pendle-she/her & they/them, androphilic/ace -Is forever lost in a vintage clothing store -Most people say she seems nice, but everyone just kind of subconciously registers that there is something up with her -Knows a lot about the supernatural -The person closest to Joey, which doesn't necessarily mean they're friends -Nobody has ever seen the right side of her face Dot Acciaci-she/her, pan -Her parents are Italian, and she speaks a little herself, usually using it to encrypt her private notes -Mischevious & curious, but ultimately kind -She will find out your secrets, and is very good at reading people -Great storyteller -Struggles with loneliness a lot Dr Eleanor Hackenbush-she/her, aro/ace -Science knows no bounds -Doesn't care what your motivation is, as long as you give her some cash and some experiments -Filled with nothing but utter spite Ms Reina Rodriguez-they/them, demi -Tired of everything -Although she puts up a calm exterior, Rodriguez is very attached to the studio and views it as her 'new family', having a terrible relationship with her old one -Her family drama connects to the fact they're very catholic, but she nobody knows what this drama is other than Joey Tessa Arch-she/her, straight -An absolute bitch -Trusts her husband far too much -Not very smart, but compensates for this for being good looking and rich Shawn Flynn-he/him (intersex), pan -Jovial, but gets angry quickly -Willing to do 'wrong' things if it helps someone else out, kind of like Robin Hood or something -His mother taught him how to sew and he helped her make clothes when he was younger -Found it hard to get a job because he's Irish, so despite being tired of all the bullshit of JDS, he is reluctant to look elsewhere -Friends with Lacie and Grant because they appreciate his humour Lacie Benton-She/her, lesbian, trans -Tougher than the toughies -wlw & mlm solidarity w/ Bertrum, who she views as one of the only genuinely smart people in JDS and who she has worked for for basically all of her life -Feels like something is up, but doesn't notice much if it doesn't connect to her work -Has automatophobia -Friend with Shawn and Grant because she respects their dedication to their work Grant Cohen-He/him, bi, depression, jewish -Absolute madlad at maths -Acts like he doesn't care what you think, cares far too much about what you think -Everyone wants him to just get therapy already -Doesn't have many friends, but has a weird 'we're both horribly overworked' kinship with Sammy, so they usually just chill and smoke together -Friends with Shawn and Lacie because they're actually mentally stable and he needs some rocks Nathan Arch-He/him, straight -You should hate him -You should hate him a lot -Super rich and doesn't pay his workers enough -Silver tongued -Basically a spider. Creates webs of manipulation and lies, sees a lot, and knows plenty about waiting for his prey to come to him.

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: To The Place I Belong

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

Evelyn ripped around the Recruit; the endless stream of energy the kid displayed was a thing of envy. She was an old soldier indeed- growing exhausted from just watching the child play about excitedly. Once she swore never to become that person, but it had progressed subconsciously. It was far more than a physical tired; emotionally and mentally, she was a strange form of exhaustion that taxed her brain to move on a typical day- on the worst days, it was immobilizing. "Please, just one more lift," the mousy-haired girl begged. "You're going to get me in trouble again." Evelyn pouted, "she's not watching right now. Plus, Rahna said she isn't mad it just makes her sad, which makes her act mad." "So you want to make her sad?" "No," but there was still a little bit of defiance in the utterance. "Plus, don't you want some of that energy for Pater?" "Ugh, we won't be there for  forever ."

"You could try napping in the Mako," Jane retreated as the kid threw her a cross look, "or you could write another log." The kid was precocious, but Jane liked that about her. She was only privy to the existence of the log because of her Spectre status. Evelyn had believed what all others would take as a lie at face value. Claiming a secret mission, the kid was more than onboard to keep mum about the existence of a previous life. Though Evelyn may begrudge her later, Jane hadn't utterly lied to her. "But, you're doing dangerous things," Evelyn whined. Super dangerous if they allowed the seven-year-old to bother her, no doubt, "I suppose I am. How about you help me keep an eye out for any baddies?" It kept her entertained for a while, at least until Jane started to recognize some of the roads again. Her detail was ornamental at this point the route had been quiet. Who would disturb a company of Makos and Kodiak shuttles? Having boots on the ground was only required because of the state of chaos the city was under from reasons that ran from collapsed structures to faulty ordinances. The medical equipment was worth far more than creds; it was a step toward rebuilding. Jane paused once the building crested the horizon, the corpse of Harbinger in rest behind it. Her hand raised, bringing the caravan to an immediate halt. "What's the holdup?" the 2nd lieutenant buzzed over her comm. "I want a scan of this area, "Jane couldn't quite place the exact threat, it was an absurd tingle that whispered caution, "get behind me." The woman's demeanor bid the child to comply. "Mec-" Jane's pistol fired a split second before the comm's warning, blasting the processing 'head' clean off the LOKI unit. "Woah, Woah, Woah," a figure shouted from between the buildings, the white-haired figure raised his hands, "just mechs, Recruit." "Pater!" Evelyn cried, running from her side without a hint of caution. Half tackling the man with the ferocity of her joy, but he recovered quickly, spinning the girl around before setting her down. Holding her hand for the rest of the trip to the convoy. Roy's forehead knocked against her's, hands holding her face, "fucking hell, Recruit." "LT." "Jane, you-" his voice quivered before it left, pushing her aside with unintended belligerence. His steps were wobbly as he approached the short woman wearing a sour expression. They stared at one another. He stopped just out of arms reach from the woman. "I'm not going to smack you, you old geezer." The LT muttered something unintelligible as he swept the woman up into his arms. Cue the crying and all the grotesque cuteness one could endure from the scene. Jane had to look away; it was like watching her parents kiss. It was something better left unimagined and unseen, and sure it happened just somewhere else. The pang of envy was also unbearable, despite how happy she felt for them. It was time to look for an exit. Apparently, after trouble ran into her- "It's nice to see some of the Alenko family reunited." "Is this a joke to you?" envy helped pull a simmering anger into a seething mass of it. Rahna remained gentle, undaunted, "it would be good for all of you to have some closure." Logic bid that Strawberry couldn't have known that her Roy was the Major's father. While she knew who Helen was, Jane hadn't been exactly willing to spend any time with another person during her recovery. It all seemed obvious now if she hadn't been so clouded with grief and self-gratifying misery. "Please, let me go," Jane begged. ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ Harbinger's warm (for London) breath collided around her form. They sat in a prolonged stalemate of silence, the Reaper judging the creature before him. What was a flawed creature of flesh compared to a collective intelligence? This ant was pathetic, hardly able to pose a threat to itself. Yet here it sat, thinking it was worthy of words. But it wasn't without pithy for the small things. "Death wouldn't claim you." Why would it? The real punishment was surviving. Reliving the guilt without a

barrier to stop the whole barrage of the tide. While she fought and campaigned against forces that seemed impossible, she had a way to hold back the pain. A reason to forget, a goal that kept her focused on what was forward and not on the past. The failure of losing one homeworld seemed small compared to the loss of all advanced life in the Milky Way. But now, with time, without a goal to keep her focus forward the weight of Thessia, Earth, The Citadel, Palavan, and countless untold colonies compounded together. Her personal failures insult to the injury. If only she could have provided more evidence about the Reaper threat. If she had tried harder, been louder, would they have listened to her? Was it a mistake to abandon Cerebrus? They were evil, no doubt, but could those resources have made the difference? If they had managed to find the Catalyst earlier, the galaxy would have suffered less loss. Instead of the Illusive Man needing to make her an enemy, would her compliance have stopped the indoctrination of the organization? Had she pushed them to that extreme? Was it a mistake to not take the Dalatrass's deal and fool the krogan? Even if for a short while. Was her moral qualm worth the lives and time it took? There was always more she could have given. Her repentance must be witnessing the Galaxy struggle to rebuild after what she had brought upon it. "Who would believe you were Shepard?" Just another facet she wanted to forget. How could she face his parents? Was it wrong to stick around? Helen was a nominal presence in her life, but the LT... him she couldn't forsake. Roy's company brought her peace, likely out of familiarity, a brief reprieve from the current of guilt that swept her under. Guilt she didn't want to bring into their relationship, shame that her attempt to save his son had failed. She wasn't ready to talk about Kaidan or the Normandy. It was still too much of a burden, the force petrifying her humanity. What would it change between them? Or the way everyone looked at her? Would they shun her for what she could no longer be? Couldn't she steal a little light? At the time, she hadn't saved the man for Kaidan, but at least she could protect them now. Or try her damnedest as Jane, as much would not be expected from her. "I see we found Harold again," a graveled voice chided disapprovingly. Jane flinched at the physical contact, finding her words to come out in a tumbling mess, "shouldn't you be shacking up with your old lady?" "Who's to say I haven't." Now, this was super gross, "you picked a fun one." His eyebrow raised, but he otherwise ignored the undertone of Jane's statement, "Alenko men always pick a partner far out of their league. I think my son really took the cake, though." Jane tensed, waiting for the inevitable. He knew. He had to. Rahna wouldn't keep quiet, not now. Why else would he leave his wife? Nearly two years' absence was nothing compared to a stranger disappearing for a month. "A Spectre is a Spectre, and never for an arbitrary reason," she retorted defensively, no longer waiting for the blow to come. It was also a little personal- she loathed whenever someone implied Kaidan simply rode her coattails. Yes, he was monumentally important in her crusade, but the man was his own force to be reckoned with. He was capable, intelligent, level-headed, and most of all kind. It was rare to have someone never ask anything of her, as he had. Rarer to not be put on a pedestal, the Major had always seen her as human. As a person and not the title. Despite how challenging the distance between them had been, she would always respect that he never wavered on his choice to act independently from her. "Heh, did someone have a celebrity crush?" Roy shook his head, "I didn't come here to reminisce. I wanted to speak with you about something." "Okay, let's have it." He took in a deep breath, folding his arms in a manner that made her question how she had missed the resemblance, "about that day, the raid. Look, I appreciate what you were trying to do for me, but never do

that again." "I can't promise that," she returned flatly. "You know," he drew in a steadying breath, his tenor turning into a heartbreaking rumble, "it's possible you have people out there that care about you. You're a stubborn shit, but you're becoming like one of my own. Maybe you can't imagine someone coming back for you, but one day someone's going to thank me for keeping your sorry ass alive for them." "You can lecture me all you like then," she quipped, but the hot tears slipping out from the corners of her eyes betraying her true feelings. Roy's hand returned to her shoulder, letting the woman release in complete silence. He waited a few minutes after her shaking had stopped to speak again. "But you should come inside, there may or may not be a banner with your name on it awaiting you," he said wryly, "while I think Evelyn may not mind all the attention on her, she does not need that much cake."

[roman-apples]

the ballad of me and my brain | roman angst ( wip )

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308567

this is much less a wip, and more of an unfinished mess. but here it is- 

--

❝ and well, I think I've gone mad. isn't that so sad? ❞

in which the signs of warning can't be visible if there is no one there to notice. and thankfully, there are.

-

❝ and, what a shame, you've lost a brain that you never had. oh, mum, check the car, it can’t have gone far! ❞

It starts with a bang. Literally.

On the other side of a deep purple door sat a usually darkened room, which belonged to the embodiment of anxiety. Virgil laid on the bed, scrolling through his phone when he heard it. The loud, crash and bang coming from down the hall. He sat up, startled, before deciding to check it out.

He felt worry spark up within his chest as he realised where it had originated from. A rose-red door.

Virgil had took note of how the anxiety levels of the hall increased as he slowly approached the door. It being 4am, he figured the others were asleep, so they wouldn't hear the noise.

He reaches for the door. Though, as he put his hand on the knob, the anxiety is gone. All that is left is pure sorrow.

The knob is turned before he can process he had done it, and looks around the room before him. There stood the exaggeratedly fanciful room he'd been used to. In shambles.

Virgil gasped as he looked around. Paper was cluttered around the floor, all filled in with words of black ink. However, that seemed to be the least of his concerns, as there, kneeling on the floor with his head rested on the bed was Roman. As the anxious side walked closer, he noticed tears staining his rosy-red cheeks. A poor sight to be seen.

He sighed, before putting a blanket on the sleeping man's shoulders. He turns the light off before he leaves.

He'd tell the others later.

❝ I must have left it in a train, or lost in a bar. It’s likely in a sainsbury’s, flirting with the boys and waiting for me. ❞

He didn't tell the others.

And so, it was followed by a silent refusal.

As the resident chef, the embodiment of morality would be tasked with trying to get the other sides to come down to the dining room for a family meal.

It was a few days after the come-in with Virgil, and Roman decided he would skip today's dinner, apparently. Patton looked at the table before him, with everyone except Roman. He raised an eyebrow, before sighing tiredly. He walked up to the creative trait's room.

A knock, "Roman?" He called. He received no reply.

Patton knocked again, "Roman? Are you there?"

He heard nothing except the soft whirl of a ceiling fan. He closes his eyes, before reopening them. Knock, knock, knock.

SIlence. A soft whirl. Silence.

Patton retreated back downstairs with nothing to tell the others.

❝ I jumped on the bus, declared my name, and asked if anyone had seen my brain. ❞

It is accompanied by a withdrawal of voice.

This humanised form of logic was an observant one. It was no shocker, really. He was meant to know most, if not all things. 'The Smart One' was a strong title with a lot to live up to. He managed.

Going back on his observations, Logan began to notice just how much Roman took himself out of their conversations and debates. The princely side used to happily and eagerly throw in his opinion, wanting all eyes on him. He had an ego, and would do anything to fuel it. That was his role.

Though, when it comes to debate, compliments are only thrown around sarcastically. Roman obviously knew this, Logan decided, and had hypnotised that after the courtroom episode with a certain liar that he understood it was a manipulation tactic. However, even days after the trial, Roman wouldn't join in normal small talk, either.

Logan would confront him about it.

"Roman?" The side looked up from the ground, a smile quickly plastered onto his face. And, if Logan hadn't been so observant, he would've shook it off. However, this time, he tipped his head back lightly. The others seemed to be in a conversation of their own with the host, Thomas.

"Why is it that you stay so silent?" He asked, quieter than he normally would, "I am only asking for, I have noticed you don't seem to want to input your own opinions lately."

Roman's eyes flashed a tinge of panic, before going back to normal. A plastic brown. "Why, my dearest nerd, I don't seem to get what you mean?"

"It's just—"

"I believe i'm doing just wonderful, Lo'. Now, if you'd excuse me, I'm going to fetch myself a glass of water. My throat is scarily sore, and a prince's throat must be in tip-top shape in order to sing beautifully!" He declared, before sinking down quickly.

Logan stood there, slightly dumbfounded, which is concealed with the mask of a deadpanned expression.

Roman's throat sounded fine. However, he didn't come back.

❝ I stepped outside, it hurt my eyes. well, what do you expect when you’ve got no mind? ❞

It is trailed closely by an episode of apathy.

Remus was never one for secrets, nor was he ever one for falsifications. He also wasn't one for boring, being intrusive thoughts.

Coming with the role, he'd usually pull tricks on the sides, or sometimes, the creatures Roman created in the imagination. Sometimes as experiments, and sometimes for his own enjoyment. Usually, it was for the dramatic reactions his brother would give him.

However, lately, those reactions would never come.

Before, Remus would try to burn down a farm one of the villagers had owned in Roman's side of the imagination, and Roman would yell at him, laugh, say something witty in return, and change it back.

Now, Remus would try to burn down the castle, and Roman would only watch. He would stare with a blank expression on his face, only moving it to blink.

The normally loud side stood there in confusion and silence, as his brother changed it back to a full castle, before walking away to do something else.

"Ro-Bro?" He followed, "You're silent. Ooh! Did the princess die from starvation in the tower before you could save her? Was she eaten by the rats?"

Roman only looked forward. A shrug.

Remus rolled his eyes, "Ugh, how boring. Do you wanna slay something with me? Like, maybe, a giant kraken!" A large squid appeared in front of them, flopping around, needing a body of water. It smelled horrible.

"I gave it utters!" The side said excitedly. He pointed to the giant cow utter on the sea creature, a drop of white milk spewed out of it.

Roman only looked at It, before sinking off.

Remus huffed, but looked at the space where Roman was standing.

His concern faded away as the kraken let out a loud "moo!"

He giggled, taking out his morning-star and ran towards it happily.

❝ I searched all day, it drove me insane! where would I be if I was my brain? ❞

It continued with a lie.

Being the embodiment of Deceit, Janus knew immediately when it began. He felt it. Like a little sense of alarm, it was a feeling that bloomed whenever someone had lied. Normally, he'd ignore it. But when it came to Roman, whenever the lies became greater, so did the amount of time the feeling stayed in his chest. After a while, it began to hurt.

They all stood in their respective spots. Virgil sat on the stairs, Patton by the window, Logan by the railing, Janus near him, Remus having in the middle of Patton and Roman, who was near the corner.

Thomas seemed to be speaking, but Roman didn't seem to notice. All there was, was a pale look on his face. That was what Janus could see. Though, he knew there was more.

"Roman," He called smoothly. Everyone's attention now was pulled onto the side mentioned, "You've not gone pale. Are you doing alright?"

Roman smiled, "Well, of course I am, Mr. Pants-On-Fire! You're just mistaken, perhaps it's the lighting."

Janus nodded after wincing, "Obviously not because I don't know that you're lying."

Roman huffed, about to shoot something back, before being cut off by Patton.

"Kiddo, you know, it's okay to not feel alright," He said kindly, "Just tell us what's wrong!"

"Nothing's wrong! I can assure you," The creative side looked at the deceitful side's flinch, "Just- Just lay off it."

"Princey, you're not okay, all you have to say is what's causing it. You're panicking." Virgil explained calmly, trying his hardest to tip-toe around the subject, as to not step on a mouse trap and set it off.

"I'm fine! Please, just, let it go." Roman stepped back. All eyes were on him. But he didn't want that, not now, not now, not now, not now—

Oops, the trap closed.

He shook as he felt himself fall to the floor. Wait, he's on the floor? He can't feel it. Why is everything so loud? Why does it feel this way? Why can't he actually hear them?

Oh, god, are they even there? Have they finally realised how bad he was and left him? Oh, god, oh god, oh god, oh god—

Suddenly, everything was silent. And dark.

❝ the nice nurse told me she felt my pain, but she couldn't find a single trace of my brain. ❞

It ended with a truth.

When you were creativity and ego, you had quite the job. You were to create new ideas that wouldn't get denied because they suck and are unrealistic and just "Aren't achievable, Roman." You had to make sure your host's mood was in tip-top shape, which meant your mood had to be in tip-top shape.

You strived off of compliments, practically begged for recognition, and hunted for approval. You wanted to be good.

Because if you weren't good, that meant the work you did isn't. And if the work you do isn't, then what's the point? You might as well disappear.

Oh, with this mindset, Roman might as well sob.

He was laid down on the couch. Or, that's where he was placed, because, he didn't remember then he got there. When he awoke, he let out a groan, "Ow!"

All eyes were on him.

"Roman!" Someone exclaimed. He thinks it's Patton, but everything is just so blurry. He closes his eyes, before opening them once again. Yup, his bones were being broken in by Patton.

"Um, padre, please—"

"Oh! Right, sorry." Roman let out a breath. It felt refreshing. He turned to face the others concerned faces.

"H—"

"Oh, you stupid idiot!" Virgil exclaimed, jumping off of the couch's arm and scolding the tired side. "You should've said something."

"I don't know, it's a bit hard to come clean about my on-going mental breakdowns." Roman joked, trying to get a laugh out of the serious side. He didn't succeed.

"You've been having them?" Virgil stepped back, "What the fuck, Roman?"

"What?" He argued, throwing his arms up. The other sides and Thomas stare at him, before Remus speaks up, "Are we really that oblivious, or—"

"Wait, so, is that why I've been so. . . sad?" Thomas asks, quietly.

Roman looks up, before looking away. His eyes fall to anything other than those around him. Thoughts begin to race as silence eats him alive.

He messed up again, what a surprise.

The side looks up, meeting his host's downplayed eyes. Oh, he messed up. A lot. Thomas was in distress over this, and it was his fault. It's always his fault. Nobody else was to blame. Only cowards would put the blame on others, and that's not a good trait to posses.

"Roman, you can't keep forgetting to breathe."

Inhale, exhale, he sighs. "I'm sorry."

"For?"

Roman closes his eyes, wasn't it obvious? "For messing up? For being an idiotic, narcissistic prick? For making things harder than it already is? For—"

He reopens his eyes they stare back at him, drowning in worry. "You haven't messed up!"

Oh, how he wishes he could believe that.

-

[limologic]

Vincent van Gogh suicide note

At 37, Van Gogh shot himself and died in his brother’s arms, but before his death, he struggled with philosophical concepts of identity, purpose, and searching for a moral compass. His art became his outlet to find peace, although his profoundly unique and controversial artwork was only truly appreciated after his death... In his lifetime he only sold one painting. He traveled learning new techniques but remained fixated on painting an atmosphere of brooding darkness.

Apart from painting, Van Gogh expressed his thoughts and ideas in letters to his brother encompassing the philosophical concepts tackled by even the most elite philosophers such as the nature of existence and understanding how to live. His revelations and perceptions shed light on how he wanted to lead his life and work towards finding peace.

At 25, his letter to his brother explains eloquently something we all struggle with— working for a lifelong goal rather than becoming successful overnight.

This letter was written in April 1878:

I’ve been thinking about what we discussed, and I couldn’t help thinking of the words ‘we are today what we were yesterday’. This isn’t to say that one must stand still and ought not try to develop oneself, on the contrary, there are compelling reasons to do and think so.

But in order to remain faithful to those words one may not retreat and, once one has started to see things with a clear and trusting eye, one ought not to abandon or deviate from that.

They who said ‘we are today what we were yesterday’, those were honnêtes hommes, which is apparent from the constitution they drew up, which will remain for all time and of which it has rightly been said that it was written with a ray from on high and a finger of fire. It is good to be an ‘honnête homme’ and truly to endeavour to become one both almost and altogether, and one does well if one believes that being an ‘homme intérieur et spirituel’ is part of it.

If one only knew for certain that one belonged among them, one would always go one’s way, calmly and collectedly, never doubting that things would turn out well. There was once a man who went into a church one day and asked, can it be that my zeal has deceived me, that I have turned down the wrong path and have gone about things the wrong way, oh, if only I could rid myself of this uncertainty and have the firm conviction that I will eventually overcome and succeed. And then a voice answered him, “And if you knew that for certain, what would you do? Act now as though you knew it for certain and thou shalt not be ashamed.” Then the man went on his way, not faithless but believing, and returned to his work, no longer doubting or wavering.

As far as being an homme intérieur et spirituel is concerned, couldn’t one develop that in oneself through knowledge of history in general and of certain people of all eras in particular, from biblical times to the Revolution and from The odyssey to the books of Dickens and Michelet? And couldn’t one learn something from the work of the likes of Rembrandt or from Weeds by Breton, or The four times of the day by Millet, or Saying grace by Degroux, or Brion, or The conscript by Degroux (or else by Conscience), or his Apothecary, or The large oaks by Dupré, or even the mills and sand flats by Michel?

It’s by persevering in those ideas and things that one at last becomes thoroughly leavened with a good leaven, that of sorrowful yet always rejoicing, and which will become apparent when the time of fruitfulness is come in our lives, the fruitfulness of good works.

The ray from on high doesn’t always shine on us, and is sometimes behind the clouds, and without that light a person cannot live and is worth nothing and can do nothing good, and anyone who maintains that one can live without faith in that higher light and doesn’t worry about attaining it will end up being disappointed.

We’ve talked quite a lot about what we feel to be our duty and how we should arrive at something good, and we rightly came to the conclusion that first of all our goal must be to find a certain position and a profession to which we can devote ourselves entirely.

And I think that we also agreed on this point, namely that one must pay special attention to the end, and that a victory achieved after lifelong work and effort is better than one achieved more quickly.

He who lives uprightly and experiences true difficulty and disappointment and is nonetheless undefeated by it is worth more than someone who prospers and knows nothing but relative good fortune. For who are they, those in whom one most clearly notices something higher? — it is those to whom the words ‘workers, your life is sad, workers, you suffer in life, workers, you are blessed’ are applicable, it is those who show the signs of ‘bearing a whole life of strife and work without giving way’. It is good to try and become thus.

So we go on our way ‘undefessi favente Deo’.

As far as I’m concerned, I must become a good minister, who has something to say that is good and can be useful in the world, and perhaps it’s good after all that I have a relatively long time of preparation and become secure in a firm conviction before I’m called upon to speak about it to others. It is wise, before one begins that work, to gather together a wealth of things that could benefit others.

Do let us go on quietly, examining all things and holding fast to that which is good, and trying always to learn more that is useful, and gaining more experience.

Woe-spiritedness is quite a good thing to have, if only one writes it as two words, woe is in all people, everyone has reason enough for it, but one must also have spirit, the more the better, and it is good to be someone who never despairs.

If we but try to live uprightly, then we shall be all right, even though we shall inevitably experience true sorrow and genuine disappointments, and also probably make real mistakes and do wrong things, but it’s certainly true that it is better to be fervent in spirit, even if one accordingly makes more mistakes, than narrow-minded and overly cautious. It is good to love as much as one can, for therein lies true strength, and he who loves much does much and is capable of much, and that which is done with love is well done. If one is moved by some book or other, for instance, just to mention something, ‘The swallow, the lark, the nightingale’, The longing for autumn, ‘From here I see a lady’, ‘Never this unique little village’ by Michelet, it’s because it’s written from the heart in simplicity and with poverty of spirit.

If one were to say but few words, though ones with meaning, one would do better than to say many that were only empty sounds, and just as easy to utter as they were of little use.

Love is the best and most noble thing in the human heart, especially when it has been tried and tested in life like gold in the fire, happy is he and strong in himself who has loved much and, even if he has wavered and doubted, has kept that divine fire and has returned to that which was in the beginning and shall never die. If only one continues to love faithfully that which is verily worthy of love, and does not squander his love on truly trivial and insignificant and faint-hearted things, then one will gradually become more enlightened and stronger. The sooner one seeks to become competent in a certain position and in a certain profession, and adopts a fairly independent way of thinking and acting, and the more one observes fixed rules, the stronger one’s character becomes, and yet that doesn’t mean that one has to become narrow-minded.

It is wise to do that, for life is but short and time passes quickly. If one is competent in one thing and understands one thing well, one gains at the same time insight into and knowledge of many other things into the bargain.

It’s sometimes good to go about much in the world and to be among people, and at times one is actually obliged and called upon to do so, or it can be one way of ‘throwing oneself into one’s work unreservedly and with all one’s might’, but he who actually goes quietly about his work, alone, preferring to have but very few friends, goes the most safely among people and in the world. One should never trust it when one is without difficulties or some worry or obstacle, and one shouldn’t make things too easy for oneself. Even in the most cultured circles and the best surroundings and circumstances, one should retain something of the original nature of a Robinson Crusoe or a savage, for otherwise one hath not root in himself, and never let the fire in his soul go out but keep it going, there will always be a time when it will come in useful. And whosoever continues to hold fast to poverty for himself, and embraces it, possesses a great treasure and will always hear the voice of his conscience speaking clearly. Whosoever hears and follows the voice in his innermost being, which is God’s best gift, ultimately finds therein a friend and is never alone.

Happy is he who has faith in God, for he shall overcome all of life’s difficulties in the end, though it be not without pain and sorrow. One cannot do better than to hold fast to the thought of God and endeavour to learn more of Him, amidst everything, in all circumstances, in all places and at all times; one can do this with the Bible as with all other things. It is good to go on believing that everything is miraculous, more so than one can comprehend, for that is the truth, it is good to remain sensitive and lowly and meek in heart, even though one sometimes has to hide that feeling, because that is often necessary, it is good to be very knowledgeable about the things that are hidden from the wise and prudent of the world but that are revealed as though by nature to the poor and simple, to women and babes. For what can one learn that is better than that which God has put by nature into every human soul, that which in the depths of every soul lives and loves, hopes and believes, unless one should wilfully destroy it? There, in that, is the need for nothing less than the boundless and miraculous, and a man does well if he is satisfied with nothing less and doesn’t feel at home until he has acquired it.

That is the avowal that all great men have expressed in their works, all who have thought a little more deeply and have sought and worked a little harder and have loved more than others, who have launched out into the deep of the sea of life. Launching out into the deep is what we too must do if we want to catch anything, and if it sometimes happens that we have to work the whole night and catch nothing, then it is good not to give up after all but to let down the nets again at dawn.

So let us simply go on quietly, each his own way, always following the light ‘sursum corda’, and as such who know that we are what others are and that others are what we are, and that it is good to have love one to another namely of the best kind, that believeth all things and hopeth all things, endureth all things and never faileth.

And not troubling ourselves too much if we have shortcomings, for he who has none has a shortcoming nonetheless, namely that he has none, and he who thinks he is perfectly wise would do well to start over from the beginning and become a fool.

We are today what we were yesterday, namely ‘honnêtes hommes’, but ones who must be tried with the fire of life to be innerly strengthened and confirmed in that which they are by nature through the grace of God.

May it be so with us, old boy, and I wish you well on your way, and God be with you in all things, and make you succeed at that, that is what is wished you with a hearty handshake at your departure.

Your most loving brother,

Vincent

The Essential Letter is an anthology containing 265 letters written by Van Gogh, which contains about a third of all the surviving letters he wrote.

Image Sources:

biography.com, uploads2.wikiart.org, blogs.elpais.com, feelgrafix.com

[threeletterslife]

07 | Over the Moon

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→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, brief mention of weapons

→ wordcount: 6.7k

"Lied?" you whisper, unable to find your speaking voice. "What are you saying?"

"You... You were right, Y/N. You were fucking right," Yoongi says in a diminutive voice just above a whisper. "I feel so guilty. But I couldn't say anything. You have to understand... You deserve to know the truth."

"What?" You frown. "Yoongi..."

I was right?? It’s a vague enough phrase to keep you guessing, but it’s concise enough to make you infer the worst.

"Jimin... your brother... his death..." Yoongi whispers, "it..." he trails off, shaking his head as if he is unable to continue on.

No. Oh, no. Now you know where he’s going with this.

"Oh my god," you breathe, letting go of the man's cold hands and stepping back. "No..." Don't you fucking dare say it out loud.

Yoongi is oblivious to your thoughts. The next time he opens his mouth, he spills the very words of confirmation you didn’t want to hear.

"Jimin was killed by someone from an unidentified gang that we have no ties with," Yoongi quickly says. "It was an accident, and he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. An unlucky victim of a new recruit. That's how much we know." He looks up at you with sad, regretful eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

It’s exactly what I feared. 

You take another step back. "I was never in danger, then..."

"You weren't..."

"I never had to be involved in this..."

"You didn't..."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm down your rapidly beating heart and swirling thoughts. But you can't help the anger that boils in your system. "Why the fuck was I brought in then?" you ask, a bitter tinge in your tone that makes Yoongi visibly flinch.

"It... It was complicated, Y/N..."

"Everyone knew, huh? All of you tricked me," you spit out, disgusted at the betrayal from people who you thought was family.

"W-We desperately needed another person to fill the space," Yoongi quickly speaks, nervously fidgeting with his hands.

"You're telling me that I was just a filler?!"

"Please..." Yoongi pleads. "We can get through this, I promise."

You ignore him. "God..." you whisper, placing a hand to your head in utter shock. "If we hadn't fallen in love, I might've never known..."

"No!" Yoongi shouts. "No, it wouldn't have been like that!"

"Really?!" you yell right back. "I don't think you would've felt the fucking guilt if you didn't have any feelings for me! You would've left me oblivious! You didn't tell me the truth because you knew I wouldn't stay if I knew what really happened. You fudged Jimin's will didn't you? You wrote utter fucking bullcrap so I would believe in it and then use me as a filler! "

"We didn't do that!" Yoongi says. "That was really Jimin's will, Y/N. It was a little outdated, yes, but it was his nevertheless. He thought at that time that if he was ever murdered, it would be by the hands of an enemy..."

"You think I can believe that?" you sigh, putting your face in your hands. "Yoongi, I don't know what to believe now. All of you dragged me into this lifestyle knowing I could never leave."

"I know," Yoongi says. "And I'm sorry."

"I worked for the Crescents. I believed in you guys. I thought we were a family," you say, shaking your head. "But I was the oblivious outsider the whole time, wasn't I?"

"It was selfish of us to get you involved," Yoongi admits. "I'm apologizing about that right now."

"Just selfish?" you scoff. "You lied to me so I could fill up space in your stupid fucking gang. You made me go through shit that I should've never been involved in. You disrespected my brother when you interpreted his will like that. All of you should've just left me alone."

"Y/N..."

"How dare you, Yoongi?" you say, barely able to hide the tremor in your voice. "How can you tell me you love me? You were hiding the truth from me for months. How do you fucking have the audacity to do that?"

"I-I..." Yoongi stutters, but he has no words.

"I thought so," you say. "All of you are so far gone from humanity and morals that you don't even know that what you did was fucking heinous."

"But we'll get our revenge," Yoongi suddenly says. "We're looking for your brother, Y/N. We'll kill whoever killed him! We weren't lying about that. Just please."

You scoff, staring at Yoongi as if he were a madman. "You don't understand, do you?" When Yoongi's silent, you continue on. "It's not about revenge, anymore, Yoongi. It was never about revenge. I chose revenge because I didn't have another option. You guys didn't give me another fucking choice. If I remember correctly, I tried to walk out the moment I came into this house. All of you stopped me and told me lies because you needed someone to take Jimin's place."

"I can't deny it, Y/N..." Yoongi whispers. "I want to, but I can't. Namjoon and I didn't want you involved either. He thought we were going against Jimin's good intentions and I..." he trails off. “I just...”

"What? What did you think?" you say, angrily.

"I thought you would wreck our balance," he admits quietly, looking away from you. "You were inexperienced... unemployed... uninformed... unpredictable..."

You close your eyes, stepping back again. "So Namjoon had the best intention. God," you mutter under your breath, "I should be in love with him, instead."

Yoongi's face crumbles and he continues to stare down at his feet.

"I can't do this anymore, Yoongi," you say. "Jimin said he didn't want any unnecessary violence. You should know that. Everyone here should."

"Y/N, please," he begs, "please stay."

You ignore him, not looking back once when you storm straight out of the room.

I'm an idiot for trusting them.

You burst into your own room, tears brimming your eyes and head fuzzy from shock and anger.

I need to leave.

You can't fight violence with violence, and that's what the mafia was for. But if you fight violence with violence, it'll be a never-ending cycle until everyone's dead.

You begin to throw your belongings in a pile in the middle of the floor. You'll find a suitcase or a backpack of some sort later. Right now, you have to focus on gathering the essentials.

On the very top of the pile on the ground is Jimin's diary. You place it there with tears streaking down your face and your heart crying in pain. I'm sorry, Jimin.

You're disappointed in yourself for ever getting distracted for your sole purpose to be here. Damn that Min Yoongi. You're disappointed that you're so gullible, no matter how cautious you try to be. You're disappointed that you had the audacity to fall in love in a place like this. You can't believe you still love him. You can't believe in the mess you're in right now.

As if on cue, Yoongi bursts through your door. He takes one look at the giant pile in the middle of the room and gasps.

"You can't leave, Y/N," he says. His eyes are wet too and he's slouching more than ever. On any normal day, you'd gently tell him to stand up straight, but you can't tell him that now.

"I'm not in fucking danger anymore," you say, unbothered as you crouch down and begin to organize the pile into separate categories: clothes, hygiene, objects of significant importance...

"But you're a Crescent," Yoongi says. He slowly gets down on both knees, watching you organize in haste. "Crescents stay together..." he trails off. "And you're not going to be safe alone now."

"What?" you say, pausing everything and glaring up at him. "You're serious," you huff. "You expect me to believe that?"

"There's no way out, Y/N. Please," Yoongi pleads. "You have to believe me on that."

You scoff, ignoring him.

"You're involved in the mafia now. Dealers have seen you with us. People saw you with us at the gala. You're going to be a target when you're alone, Y/N... Please," Yoongi says. "Reevaluate your decisions before you get hurt."

"Why would you care if I got hurt?"

"You know the answer to that," Yoongi says softly. "I do love you, you know."

You shake your head. "You can't tell me that."

"I can," Yoongi sighs. "I distracted you from a lot of your hard times. You used me as a distraction in the beginning, and I let you. I didn't think we'd end up like this."

"In a relationship?" you scoff. "I can't be in one that's not built off of trust, Yoongi."

"You have to admit it, though," Yoongi says. "You love me too."

You groan, running a frustrated hand through your hair. "I'm not admitting anything, Yoongi. If you actually expect me to tell you that I love you, you can get the fuck out. I just found out you've been lying to me for months. You should be content with the fact that I'm not punching you in the face."

"It was my fault. Fine. I admit that I should've told you earlier... I admit everything. You can put the whole blame on me. You can do whatever you want. But just... don't leave, Y/N. You can't," Yoongi says. "It'll be dangerous to leave by yourself."

"Then I can die trying."

"You can't say that."

"But maybe the need to leave this place is as important as life," you retort. "Maybe I'd rather die trying than continue living here as a goddamn Crescent."

"You don't mean that."

You jerk your head towards Yoongi, glaring at him. "How would you know?"

"You were happy, Y/N... You liked it here. You got along with everyone... And everyone really enjoyed your company. It was all until you started thinking about your brother again. Can't things go back like they were before?"

You scoff. "I was only that happy because I didn't know. God," you say, gripping your forehead. "I can't believe I trusted any of you."

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"I think you're more sorry that you told me the truth, aren't you?"

Yoongi looks taken aback at your accusation but he doesn't fire back a reply. Instead, he calmly shakes his head. "I'm not sorry I told you the truth. You deserved to know it. I'm sorry that you didn't know the truth in the first place. It wasn't right for us to count you as another body to be in the gang. It wasn't right for us to be so unemotional about Jimin's death. It wasn't right for us to bring you here. Regardless of my love for you, I should've told you that we lied to you... That you could just leave and not have danger chasing after you... I'm not sorry that I love you, though. But I'm sorry I broke your trust. I fully understand your will to leave... but you can't. It's dangerous and you can risk your life."

His answer is so genuine, so Yoongi that you almost question why you're so mad at him. It's hard to stay mad at someone who doesn't get mad with you. You take a deep, shakey breath, closing your eyes momentarily before slowly opening them once more.

"Then go with me," you say.

"What?"

"If you love me so much, then leave with me, Yoongi. I'm being serious," you say. "It's a fucking compromise!" You throw your hands up in the air. "You get to be with me, and I'll be out of this hellhole."

"Y/N..." Yoongi says. "I can't go with you. I belong to the Crescents."

"Technically, so do I, but I'm willing to break bonds that are wrong," you say. "In fact, you can rot in this place until your blood is black with sin and your soul is devoured by regret. I guess I'm going alone." You stand up, brushing off your knees. "There's no point in fighting violence with violence. I don't think Jimin would've wanted me involved in the mafia. It killed him, Yoongi. Do you understand that what you kept from me is a crime?"

"I know," Yoongi says. "I'm a little selfish. But let's face it. We all are. We desperately needed someone to fill Jimin's space, you know, to have a little morale booster for us..." he trails off. "I'm sorry..." He looks you right in the eye, causing you to flinch.

"I thought you were different," you mumble.

Yoongi sighs. "I'm a man of practicalities, Y/N. Once it became clear that your addition to the family was beneficial, I didn't feel the need to chase you out as much as I did in the beginning."

"I think those are excuses," you spit out. "You're just a coward."

"I am."

The way he admits it breaks your heart.

"God. Fuck, Yoongi. You're making this so hard on me," you say, collapsing down on the floor and drawing your knees to your chest. "I have to leave. But... you..."

"I can't leave my family."

"If you can even call it that. You have a rank, here, Yoongi." Jimin's diary catches your eye and you sigh, crawling over to pick it up. You toss the whole thing to Yoongi who gracefully catches it with one hand. "I think you should read this."

"This is—"

"I know. Just... leave, Yoongi. Don't talk to me until after you've read this."

Yoongi holds the diary tightly against his chest, staring at you with sad eyes. "Does this mean you're going to stay?"

You don't answer.

Yoongi stays kneeling on the ground for a few more minutes, waiting for you to say something. But when it becomes clear that you're done talking to him, he sighs and gets up on his feet. He walks out without turning back, closing the door behind him.

You let out a shaky breath.

In a perfect world, you'd leave with Yoongi. Because no matter how much you tell yourself you should hate him for lying to you, you can't. Yoongi is someone that makes you feel right. He's the missing corner puzzle piece to your life.

And fine. You're a woman of practicalities. But there's something about him that compels you. In a world of your dreams, you and Yoongi would leave the mafia hand in hand.

It hurts to know that this is a world that's nowhere perfect.

You haven't left your room for a whole day, refusing to talk to anyone who knocked on your door. Luckily, nobody tries to force their way into your room.

Seokjin even tried talking you out to eat your meals, but you'd rejected him three times over. Everyone except Yoongi doesn't know why you're suddenly so adamant about being alone. And you suspect Yoongi hasn't told them the reason either. If he knew what was good for him, he would be reading Jimin's diary at lightning speed.

You're not sure what's going to happen when Yoongi comes back to your room to discuss what he had read. You don't know if the two of you are going to argue again. But you do know that you are going to fight to leave the Crescents, whether it is with Yoongi or not. You'll be open to negotiations, though. Maybe.

It's just a little half-past ten at night when Yoongi knocks on your door. "Y/N?" he croaks. "I finished reading it," he whispers. "I want to talk."

"You can come in," you say, sitting down on your bed. Immediately, Yoongi opens the door and walks in, warily looking you up and down before carefully sitting down next to you. He returns Jimin's diary to you with both hands, and you gratefully take it, hugging it to your chest. "So?" you question.

Yoongi sighs deeply. "Have you been reading that ever since you got here?"

You frown when he counters your inquiry with his own. "Yes, I have."

"God..." Yoongi mutter. "I understand your will to leave now. The diary shows the progression of a horrible transformation."

"Yeah. You noticed it too?"

"Of course," Yoongi says. "I guess it opened up my eyes. The diary, I mean..." he trails off, looking up and out of your window at the shining moon. "It was all supposed to be a game..."

"Hm?" you say. "Sorry?"

"It was just supposed to be a game," Yoongi repeats, closing his eyes. "You know... we first began to vandalize a few things... Then after a while, that was no fun, so we stole things. And next thing you know, we've killed people. Directly and indirectly."

"It never occurred to any of you that all of that stuff is wrong?" you whisper, pulling your knees to your chest.

"It was so gradual, Y/N... Maybe there was guilt in the back of our minds, but time did away with it after a while," Yoongi says. He opens his eyes to stare at you. "I've realized that I'm not quite proud of the man I've become."

"Really? Just you? Or does everyone else feel the same?"

"I don't know," Yoongi admits, "but I do know that everyone else likes who they are at the moment. They're happy the way things are, Y/N, and they've said it many times."

"But you're not content?"

"I'm not." Yoongi moves his hand over to cover yours. "I haven't been for a while, I guess. But it just took me years to admit it out loud."

"And you stayed here because..."

"Family," Yoongi says. "I'm not going to break the blood bond."

"You could've left with Jimin. He wasn't happy here too."

"I had no way of knowing, Y/N. All of us keep to ourselves. It's just how it's been," Yoongi sighs. "And I swear, we were truly a family in the beginning. I don't know. I guess at one point we started to drift apart and no one noticed it. But we were too afraid to not call each other family... The name stuck, even though we don't deserve it anymore."

"It's sad to think about," you sigh, moving to intertwine your fingers with Yoongi's.

"I know..." Yoongi replies. There is a silent pause. Then: "You know, Y/N, it's gonna be insanely hard for us to leave to the gang life, right?"

You jerk your head towards him, squeezing your hands together. "Wait—"

"I meant what I said, before you ask," Yoongi cuts you off, pulling you close to him.

"What? You're just going to leave just like that? Because you love me?" you say. "What happened to Mr. Pragmatic?"

"I am being pragmatic," Yoongi says. "Look, it's simple. I love you. But I just... don't think I can say the same to the others... Trust me. I spent a lot of time thinking about that sole topic. And I don't even know if we can pull this whole 'leaving' thing off, too."

"What do you mean?" you protest. "You already have a day job, and obviously, I can get a job. We'll be fine! We'll just say our goodbyes and tell them that we can't stand being here anymore."

"No, that won't work," Yoongi sighs. "We'll have to leave the country."

"What?"

"Listen, they're going to come after us when we leave."

"They?"

"Everyone that I've wronged," Yoongi says. "The people we threatened in the sales. Gangs love to kill ex-gang members because they have no one to turn to. They're defenseless and it makes for an easy murder, for easy revenge. If we really want to leave, then we'll have to leave everyone who's seen us involved in the Crescents."

"So we could move back to Korea then," you offer. "That's another country. And that's where we're from."

"Y/N..."

"I know..." you sigh. "I know this seems like a lot of decisions made on a whim, but we have to start somewhere. I don't want to rot here regretting my life choices forever."

Yoongi nods. "I agree. But it's much more complicated than that. We have to tell the rest of the Crescents... They're not going to be happy, Y/N. I have no idea how they'll react. If we leave, there will only be five people left. Most gangs have hundreds of members, Y/N. The Crescents would have five. By leaving, we could be endangering them."

"So it's us or them," you say. "I understand if that'll take you some time to think about."

Yoongi sighs. "It's us," he answers without hesitation. "Trust me. I thought about this already. You were never supposed to be here, so it's only rightful for you to leave."

"But what about you?"

"When I'm with you, I'm just a normal guy," Yoongi says. "And you deserve to be with a normal guy, so I'm coming with you."

"Logical," you reply. "Are you sure?"

Yoongi smiles softly. "Yes, I'm sure, Y/N. Six years of crime is enough."

You nod, sighing as you lean into Yoongi's shoulder. "So this is certain?"

"I guess so."

"Good," you sigh, closing your eyes and savoring Yoongi's warmth. "Funny. None of this would've happened if Jimin had never started his stupid mafia shit."

Yoongi chuckles next to you. "We would've never existed if he never started his so-called stupid mafia shit," he says.

"That's true..." you trail off.

"You've been through a lot, Y/N," Yoongi says. "And a lot of it was after you became a Crescent, so it's only logical for you to leave. And I'll go too, you know, so you won't be lonely again."

"Right..." you say, snuggling against your boyfriend. "I think we can figure out the details later..."

"Of course," Yoongi whispers. "For now, we can sleep."

"Hm..." you hum, "sleep..." It's so much easier to drift off into dreamland with a clear head; you know that you'll be leaving the Crescents—and with your boyfriend too. It's the best news you've had in a while, and it helps you sleep peacefully.

You and Yoongi are unsure of how to act. The two of you are even more unsure of how to break it to the others that you will be leaving for good. It just seems like there never is the right time. You told Yoongi that you'd talk to Seokjin because the whole thing had been your idea after all. But that means the burden of relaying the news rests upon your own two shoulders.

You were going to tell Seokjin later today—maybe after dinner...? But he called you to the white room right after breakfast.

"We have business to discuss," he had told you.

You'd nodded and followed him into the hidden room, wondering what on earth he would want to talk to you about—if you would even have the guts to tell him that you and Yoongi wanted to leave. Now, in the intimidating white room, Seokjin gestures for you to sit down but you shake your head, firmly standing with one hand resting at the edge of the table. You stand straight, though you are not exactly eye-level with the tall man, you try to look him straight in the eyes when you speak.

"Seokjin..." you begin, hesitating as you examine Jin's facial expressions.

But he seems calm and even smiles softly as he nods at you. "Yes?"

You take a deep breath before saying, "I know."

Jin nods. "I know you know."

"No, you don't understand," you say. "I know that all of you lied to me. That—"

"I assure you that I know you know," Jin interrupts nodding. "It wasn't too hard to figure out, Y/N."

"Then why," you breathe. "I just want to know why. I know you're smarter than this, Seokjin, so why do you continue with this stupid, murderous madness?"

Jin shrugs. "It's only a small price to pay for happiness."

"Happiness?" you scoff. "What? A small price? You're taking lives for a living."

"Y/N..." Jin sighs. "Look. I'm with my childhood friends. We have enough food to eat, an extravagant place we call home and I have a job that I actually love."

"Being the mafia boss of the Crescents?"

"No, I'm the head chef at my own restaurant," Jin answers.

You scoff. "That's selfish. Have you considered if the others love their jobs or not? Are you sure everyone here is happy?"

"If you're trying to convince me to leave the gang life, then I can assure you that you can give that up, Y/N," Seokjin says. "I will stay here with the rest of the Crescents. And yes, on a side note, I admit that I'm selfish. We must all chase after our own happiness, yes? That's why you are Yoongi are planning to abandon the Crescents."

You frown, stepping back. "How did you—you know what? Never mind. Seokjin, don't you just get tired?"

"Of living this life?" Jin asks. "No, not really," he hums, smiling at you while shaking his head. "You're a lot like your brother, you know. He didn't like being a Crescent either... although it was originally his idea. Yet he didn't try to fight it off like you are. He accepted it and went with it..."

"He was an idealist, Jin," you say. "He wanted to stay because he thought the Crescents were his family. Bullshit, if you ask me."

If your words offended Jin, he didn't show it. "If you want to leave, Y/N, I'll understand. I'll even understand if Yoongi wants to leave with you."

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. "Really?"

"I've thought about it a lot," Seokjin says. "There's no point in forcing you to stay if you are truly unhappy here..." he trails off, and you can catch just a hint of waver in his voice. His head jerks up, and his eyes meet yours. There is no hint of emotion left in his face now. "But once you leave, you can never contact us again. Once you break the blood bond, there is no going back."

You nod. "Of course. That much I can do."

"Good, good," Jin mumbles. "Leave tonight. Leave quietly. Don't say goodbye to anyone."

You nod again. "Okay."

"And get rid of that scarification on the back of your neck. You won't be a Crescent anymore."

You don't know if that makes you feel glad or slightly miserable—the mark on the back of your neck was what connected you and your dead brother. It was also what connected you and Yoongi... But regardless, it's a small sacrifice you'll have to make to get out of its place.

"Okay," you say. "Noted. I'll tell Yoongi about this too if that's alright."

"Good, good," Seokjin says. "Taehyung's baking a batch of oatmeal cookies. You should stop by the kitchen and pick some up."

"Of course," you say. It'll be the last time I'll see everyone, anyway. "Goodbye, Seokjin."

The man looks sad as he replies, "Farewell, Y/N." You begin to turn to leave when he stops you. "Y/N?"

You nod, looking back to face the man. He's got both hands gripping the edge of the table as he looks down at his feet. You wait for him to speak, but Jin's eyes are closed and his brows are furrowed.

"Jin..." you say.

"Y/N," he calls your name, letting out a deep sigh before opening his eyes and staring straight into yours. "I'm happy for you," he finally says. "You and Yoongi make a great couple." There's a glint in his eyes that sort of look like tears, but you guess it might be the lighting. "I hope you find everything you are looking for—that includes happiness, peace, longevity... And... I'll miss you. I loved you at one point in my life, Y/N. The feelings aren't lingering with me anymore, but I've always cared for you. I've cared for everyone here. I don't want you to leave on a bad note. We did not solely decide to let you join our gang so you could take Jimin's place... It was really so we could take care of you because sooner or later, you'd realize Jimin's dead and you'd be alone. I wanted to share our home with you so that maybe you could be as happy as I am. So you could live in luxury and do minimal gang work and maybe even find a day job you really enjoyed. We were selfish, yes, for assuming that you'd like it here, but I just wanted to let you know that our intentions weren't all malicious. We're still people, Y/N. And we still feel though we do not show our emotions. But I respect you for making an executive decision. If being in the Crescents didn't make you happy, that is my fault and I'm sorry. I hope you will leave peacefully and most of all, safely." He pauses, taking shallow breaths as he looks at your shell-shocked face. "Jimin would be proud of you."

You smile, nodding. "Thank you, Seokjin. Thank you. I needed that closure... I'm not sorry that I'm leaving at all, but I'm sorry that Yoongi is coming with me. I hope the Crescents will prosper even more in the future than they do now, Jin." You take a step back towards the entrance of the white room. "Goodbye, then."

The man looks even sadder as you walk away. His eyes hold the knowledge of the future that he yet can't seem to accept. "Goodbye," he says and turns away so you cannot see his face anymore.

You nod to yourself and leave without another word, another thought. You've made your executive decision and now, there's no turning back. Not even when your insides feel a bit twisted at the fact that everyone else here will miss you. You'll miss them too. They're still your friends, of course, no matter how grand of a lie they told you. But you can't stay here knowing that homicide happens as if its an everyday lifestyle.

It's time to say goodbye to all the madness.

When you had gone to the kitchen, you found Jungkook, Taehyung and Hoseok, who were already munching on the oatmeal cookies that Tae had baked. You spent a few minutes in their company, taking a few of Tae's famous cookies for yourself. This would be the last time you'd eat those delicious cookies and the last time you'd see those three friends, though they didn't know that.

You complimented Taehyung's excellent baking skills, patted Jungkook's back and playfully teased Hoseok before waving goodbye and leaving.

You'll miss them. No matter how murderous or cruel they were, they were your friends who respected you, were kind to you. But your mind is so made up that you can easily leave without ever looking back.

In an ideal world, you would've gotten everyone to leave the Crescents, but you now realize that one person can't possibly change everything. You should've known. Some people were just born to live this kind of life. And it's better for you to move on and forgive than boil in your own anger.

You'd rather let go and learn than hold a grudge forever.

When you come back to your room, you find a white envelope on your bed. It's thick and significantly heavy in your palms. You don't need to open it to know that there's money inside. There is no note, no sign of any sort, but it's quite obvious it's from Seokjin. You smile. He really does care.

"Hey, Y/N," Yoongi says as he comes into your room. You're a bit startled, jumping back as you turn to face him. "Do we have any updates?"

"Uh, yeah," you smile. "Jin said we can leave." You wave the envelope in front of you. "He gave this to us."

"Damn," Yoongi breathes. "Well that's rather anticlimactic, isn't it?"

"I'd take anticlimactic over chaos any day."

"Right..." Yoongi says.

"I said my semi-goodbyes to everyone except Namjoon," you say. "Seokjin told us not to tell anyone that we're leaving, but it just felt right to leave on a good note. You should go find Hoseok or something. He's in the kitchen, right now."

"We're saying our goodbye's already?"

"We have to leave tonight, Yoongi."

"So soon?"

"Yeah," you say. "Seokjin advised us to leave immediately."

Yoongi hums. "Do you regret any of this?" he asks. "I mean, you can always back out."

"No, we're leaving for sure," you say. "I don't regret being here, though... It opened my eyes. Besides, it's like I got to reunite with my long lost brother."

"And you met me."

"And I met you."

"We have to get rid of our scarification marks, Yoongi," you say, lightly touching the back of your neck. "We're not going to be Crescents anymore."

"Right..." Yoongi sighs. "We've broken our blood bonds."

"Mhm," you nod, solemnly. "I think I have an idea to get rid of the marks," you say. "We can fix it before we leave tonight."

"Alright," Yoongi says. "That sounds like a plan."

"I'll pack some of your stuff, okay? I think you should go and check up on your friends."

Yoongi smiles. "Thank you." He begins to turn around to walk out of your room when he suddenly stops in his tracks. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to talk to Namjoon before you leave?"

You shake your head. "No. I'm not going to force last-minute friendships that were never there before," you say. "It'll be better that way. One less person to feel guilty about for leaving."

Yoongi nods. "That's reasonable." He smiles at you reassuringly. "I'll catch you later?"

"Yeah, later," you nod. Yoongi waves as he turns around again and walks out. It's insane how fast things are moving at this moment. Your departure almost seems too sudden, but you know it's better to leave now than regret it later. And you will definitely not regret leaving.

When Yoongi gets back after buying Hoseok a round of drinks, he helps you pack until the full moon shines its light into your room.

"It's getting kinda late," Yoongi whispers, zipping up a duffel bag and swinging it over his shoulder. He takes your bag in his hands too, so you don't have to carry anything. "Are we done packing?"

You nod. "I've double, triple checked everything. I think we have all the things we need."

"So...?" Yoongi says. "Is it really time to leave?"

"Yeah," you say, smiling. "Well, we have to do one more thing. C'mon!"

With hushed whispers and giggles, you drag Yoongi done to the amber-lit basement room where you had first gotten your scarification. He looks confused, setting down the bags and turning to you with curiosity. "What are we doing down here?"

You smile. "Well, you know, Jimin once told me—"

Yoongi gives you a look.

"I mean, his diary once told me why he chose the name, the Crescents," you say. "Do you remember it?"

"Of course I do," Yoongi says. "God, that stupid entry almost made me cry. Memories, you know? The nostalgia hit me pretty hard."

You hold Yoongi's hands into yours. "Well, guess what? I think we're past the point of being underdeveloped crescent moons. Don't you think? You know what's after a crescent moon?"

"A quarter moon," Yoongi deadpans.

"Um, not quite," you say.

"A gibbous moon?"

"Uh..." you trail off. "I meant for you to say full moon, Yoongi."

"I know," he grins. "I was just teasing you," he says, squeezing your intertwined hands. "But I'm just saying, that wasn't quite scientifically accurate."

You roll your eyes though you think the way he's so candid is endearing. "I just thought it's time to change our crescent moons to full moons."

"So... re-scarify each other?" Yoongi asks. "Oh, Y/N."

"What? Is that a bad idea? Maybe we can get rid of our marks another way—"

"No, I think it's ingenious," Yoongi says, leaning down to chastely peck your lips. You lean into his warm body, eyes fluttering when he dips his head down to kiss you again. This time with more purpose. "Are you ready for almost insurmountable pain again?" Yoongi whispers against your lips before he pulls away.

"You bet I am," you say. "Besides, I get to see you shirtless."

Yoongi snort, shaking his head as he gives you a charming look. "You think you can handle marking me?"

You flush when he says that. "That sounded so wrong, Min Yoongi. And you know it."

Your boyfriend laughs, turning around from you momentarily to strip off his jacket and shirt. "It could've been taken in two ways," he shrugs. "I'll go first," he says, rummaging through the metal wielding tools to find two separate sticks. "These look like they'll make good full moons," he comments. "I'll just put them in the fire for a while. And also stand by the fire because being shirtless makes me cold, believe it or not."

You laugh, following Yoongi as he makes his way over to the large fireplace. "I'll stay with you to keep you company."

Yoongi nods as he gets the fire going, sticking the metal sticks into the heat. "I don't know why but it's peaceful," he says after a beat of silence. "I always thought leaving would've been chaotic."

"Me too," you admit. "Strangely, I don't feel too bad about stripping away my Crescent identity, no matter how short-lived it was."

"Maybe it was really our destiny to leave."

"Don't tell me you believe in destiny, Yoongi," you tease, poking his bare chest. "I thought you were a pragmatic man."

"I don't," he answers. "But what else can explain us?"

You snort, shaking your head as you watch the amber sparks swallow the metal. "I dunno. Circumstances? If you thought for one second all that tissue-giving wouldn't woo me, Yoongi—"

Your boyfriend laughs. "In my defense, I wasn't trying to woo you by giving you tissues," he says. "You looked like you needed one, and no one else was doing anything about it, so I did it."

"Aw," you say, feigning hurt, "I thought you did that because you had a little crush on me."

"Maybe subconsciously," Yoongi laughs quietly. He pulls out the metal wielding sticks, putting one in your hand. "Will you do the honors, Y/N?"

Yoongi hadn't even flinched when the heat that touched his chest. Instead, as soon as the wielding stick was away, he'd pulled you into the seat with him and kissed you crazy.

"Why are you so touchy today?" you'd asked him, slightly breathless. "This many kisses in a day?"

"It's the adrenaline, Y/N," he'd replied. "If we didn't have to leave right away, I would've taken you to bed."

"We can have time for that when we've safely left," you'd said. "Your new mark looks nice, by the way. A full moon—albeit it kinda looks like a filled-in circle, but whatever, it's the meaning that counts. Um, care to help me with mine?"

He'd nodded and repeated the process you had gone through when you'd first become a Crescent. Except for this time, you were stripping yourself from your gang-affiliated identity. The pain was more bearable this time. You didn't know if it was because of Yoongi's supportive touches or if you had become immune to minor physical discomforts.

Either way, all too soon, you weren't a Crescent anymore.

"We're done," Yoongi remarks, helping you tie your hair in a ponytail to keep it from grazing the back of your neck. "We can go now, right?"

"Yeah..." you say, looking around the amber-lit surroundings. "I guess we can. We're not exactly Crescents anymore, are we?"

"You're right. We're not." Yoongi grins. "So we can definitely leav—"

He's interrupted by a light, silvery but booming voice: "WHO'S DOWN THERE?!"

You hear a gun cocking and thunderous footsteps echoing across the room. Yoongi grabs your arm, pulling you behind him as the two of you silently contemplate running for your lives. But then again, deep inside, both of you know none of the current Crescents will hurt you.

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