#mankind was not meant to have instant connectivity

[z00r0p4]

Thank you Instagram for showing me 17 year olds who are more talented than I will ever be! Thank you. I totally do not want to quit art now!

[seita]

— don’t ask | hitoshi shinsou (m.)

pairing: hitoshi shinsou/f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 𝟷𝟹𝟻𝟿𝟶

cw: roommate!au, sugar baby!au

tags: heavy pining, arguments, briefly ft.kaminari, rejection, possessiveness, jealousy, crying, dirty talk, pet names, dom!shinsou, fingering, riding, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, praise (?), marking, creampie, angst with a happy ending.

note: this is a thank you for 5k followers! i can’t believe i hit such a milestone in only like a month and a half! i appreciate the love and support everyone has given me and i promise to put out more quality content going forwarad!

— you thought it was strange a guy your age made such good money by seemingly doing nothing. whenever you would question him about his income, he’d grow defensive. once a month, a left the house for a few days; leaving to perform a mysterious job he didn’t want you to know about.

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© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.  

When you saw the flier for someone looking for a new roommate, you honestly thought it was one big scam. You assumed that the second you set up a meeting, you would be kidnapped and never seen again. 

Being a lowly college kid meant you didn’t have your sea legs in the adult world quite yet. Swamped with studies, horrible at managing your time and your stress levels, you were left a constant mess. So, your solution was to stick to studying for the most part and work part-time so the job didn’t take up too much of your time. 

Another genius idea you had was the age-old roommate situation. You started out looking for listings online for preferably Musutafu or Tokyo. Alas, you came up with nothing after a handful of weeks and were intending to give up. 

However, a stop by the grocery store changed everything. It was a flyer for someone looking for a roommate in an area of Tokyo that you knew to be pretty pricey. 

It was close enough to your college campus so you wouldn’t have to worry about a stupid commute. You thought it was too good to be true as you looked at the information stating you wouldn’t even need to pay rent. You’d simply have to split some bills and buy your own groceries. 

The idea of not having to shell out hundreds of dollars a month was appealing on its own; you’d definitely be able to save with a living situation like that. 

The logical side of you was weary, however. The entire thing could be a ploy to trick some unsuspecting victim, like yourself, into who knows what. 

Still, it probably wouldn’t hurt to contact the person just in case it wasn’t a trick. No harm in checking, you supposed. 

Tugging the flyer down from where it was pinned up on the bulletin board, you folded it up and tucked it away in the front pocket of your purse to take care of when you got home from classes. 

All of that led you to meeting one Hitoshi Shinsou. He was a tall, tired looking guy around your age. His most prominent feature was the fluffy mess of purple hair that was atop his head. When you first met him, he fixed you with a cold gaze ― his purple irises burning holes into you. And for a second you were sure that you were right on your hunch and you were never going to return home. 

Nothing of consequence happened, naturally, and instead he showed you the bedroom you would be using and handed you a key before sitting down on the couch to watch TV. The whole exchange was unlike anything you expected. When you questioned him he simply told you he’d get everything straight for you and that you could begin to move in whenever. 

So you did.

As expected of such an expensive apartment, the room you were given was great. It was roomy and nothing like you assumed you would wind up with. Most college students wind up with a shitty roommate, a one-bedroom apartment, and instant ramen for dinner every night. 

Instead you got the chillest roommate known to mankind. Shinsou barely even made a peep. Most of the time you found him relaxing in front of the TV watching murder documentaries. You did learn that the poor guy had insomnia and as a result was up almost every night. Sometimes you would catch him snoozing on the couch but that rarely lasted more than 2 or 3 hours before he was up and about once again. 

You did learn that the man was a lousy cook so he mostly lived on instant ramen before you moved in. Luckily for him, you enjoyed cooking and decided to be the one to make meals for the two of you. To say Shinsou was appreciative was an understatement. 

Simply put, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. 

And so bloomed an easy friendship with him. Shinsou made it easy to befriend, although he was a quiet guy he was funny and charismatic; the type of guy who probably had a lot of friends. 

You lived there for about a month when you noticed the first weird disappearance. 

You had been laying in bed, eyes closed as you slowly began to drift off to the white noise of your overhead fan. 

What lulled you from your daze was the beep of the alarm at the front door. Sitting up, you listened carefully only to hear a couple beeps and the click of the door shutting. 

Frowning, you got out of the bed and wrapped your blanket around your shoulders to shield yourself from the chilled apartment air. Your footsteps were silent as you padded your way to the entryway. You immediately noticed that Shinsou’s shoes were gone from where they should have been sitting beside the front door. 

You checked his bedroom to find that he was, indeed, not there. You simply assumed he had gone for a walk or to a convenience store or something since he couldn’t sleep and went back to bed. That was certainly not something uncommon for the insomniac you called a roommate. 

When you got up in the morning, however, you noticed he was still gone. 

You wandered into the kitchen, intending to open the fridge to start something for breakfast only to find a cute cat-themed sticky note plastered to the front of it. Written in your roommates sloppy handwriting was “I won’t be home for a few days.”

Short and to the point but still causing questions to arise in response. 

You had no choice but to carry on. You could text him and question him but you had a feeling you wouldn’t actually get any information. 

Two days was how long he was gone for. He turned on the second night, looking as tired as usual. 

“I’m home,” he called with a heavy sigh, kicking his shoes off before dropping the heavy duffle bag he carried to the floor. 

“Hey,” you greeted over the back of the couch, “I uh...made dinner but I didn’t make any for you. I didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“It’s fine, I already ate anyway,” he hummed, dropping his full weight onto the empty cushion beside you. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. 

You eyed him and decided to simply not ask about the hickey on his pale skin. 

The time ticked past midnight and you stood up, yawning as you stretched, “I’m heading to bed.”

“Alright,” he mumbled, finally stealing the remote from you, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hey…” you paused at the entrance to the hallway, deciding to chance it, “Where did you go anyway?”

“...To work,” he replied, simply. 

His tone held a sense of finality to it, leaving no room for you to inquire exactly what that meant. So, with a final bid, you went to your bedroom. 

It was almost like deja vu, laying in bed as you fell asleep only to hear the beeping of that alarm. You sat up and climbed out of bed, intending to catch Shinsou before he was gone but as you reached the living room, you heard the front door click shut and he was gone. 

Sighing, you wandered to the kitchen to find another note like you’d seen last time stuck to the fridge. 

As you glanced at the calendar on the wall, you realized it was almost exactly a month since the last time he did this ― you remembered because he left on the 23rd and it was currently the 22nd. You could practically feel the dots forming but you had absolutely no way of connecting them. 

Deciding to retire to bed, you attempted to sleep but found yourself thinking of Shinsou. 

Two months in a row he vanished around the same time, in the middle of the night leaving only a note. Now that you thought about it, he didn’t seem to have a job ― he only said his disappearance was part of his job. But he came back with a hickey. 

Sighing, you rolled over and attempted to fall asleep. 

Two days later, he came home. 

“I’m back,” he grumbled. 

Immediately, you noted the aggravated tone to his voice. Sitting up from where you were sprawled out on the couch, you eyed him. Instead of just dropping his duffle bag like he had last time, he took it straight to the laundry room. 

As he disappeared into the kitchen, you got up and followed him. He was squatting on the floor, rummaging through the bag as he tossed out pieces of clothing. You leaned on the door jam with your arms folded on your chest. Whether or not he knew you were there, you didn’t know. 

“There’s some dinner left for you,” you said softly, watching him pause and look over his shoulder at you.

“I already ate,” he replied, voice cold. 

You frowned, standing up straight, “Alright, well…” you sighed, “I’ll wrap it up and put it in the fridge in case you get hungry tonight.”

He didn’t reply but you kept watching him. He moved to fully sit on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him with a grunt. You noticed that he was separating the clothes into two piles. Closer inspection brought your attention to the price tags attached to the clothes in one pile. 

You found yourself wondering where he got those clothes from but you decided not to ask. He seemed to be in a rather sour mood. 

He left the new clothes on the floor and dumped the others into the washing machine. With quick efficiency, he started the cycle and stuffed the remaining clothes back into his bag. 

You backed up to allow him to leave the laundry room. His shoulders were stiff and his posture was tense. It was a complete 180 from how you usually saw him. 

“You um...you alright?”  you finally asked when he sat down on the couch. 

He barely spared you a glance before propping his feet up on the coffee table, turning the TV on. Realizing you weren’t getting a response, you attempted to brush off the brief anger that flashed through you and instead went to the kitchen to clean everything up. 

You didn’t know why he was being so rude to you ― it’s not like you did anything to him. Deciding to just head to your bedroom to study, you shut off the kitchen light and skirted behind the couch to avoid getting in his way of the TV. 

He didn’t say a word as you disappeared down the hallway. 

As opposed to last time, his ‘work’ seemed to have not gone too well this time around. At least the last time, he was just tired and feeling lazy. 

You could still hear the TV going when you put all your stuff away and crawled into bed. 

The next morning, you awoke with a sigh. Sitting up, you stretched until you felt your joints pop.

As you wandered out of your bedroom, you heard the shower going, indicating Shinsou was still around. Not that you were expecting any different. 

You fixed a quick, simple breakfast for you and Shinsou, hearing the shower turn off as you finished. Wiping your washed hands on your pants, you made your way to the bathroom.

You only got to knock on the door once before it was yanked open. Suddenly, your mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. 

He stood there, his usual fluffy hair flattened and hanging haphazardly around his face. He wore his usual bored expression despite the fact he was standing there, dripping wet with only a towel around his waist. Immediately, you got a whiff of his body wash and shampoo, making you swallow thickly. 

Fuck, he smelled really good. You always thought so, when he sat on the couch beside you, you could always smell that delicious, musky scent of his body wash mixed with the spice of his cologne. But freshly washed with it, you were nearly salivating at the smell. 

“Um…” you swallowed thickly, tearing your gaze away from the well built muscles under those baggy clothes he always wore, “B-Breakfast is ready…”

“Okay,” he mumbled, moving to skirt around you. 

You sighed, assuming he was still in a shit mood again. Running a hand through your hair, you shook the delectable sight of him fresh out of the shower from your mind. As you went to go back to the kitchen, a large hand grappled around your wrist. 

“Hey,” he mumbled. You looked over your shoulder to see him nervously rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you’d seen numerous times before, “I’m sorry...about yesterday.”

“Huh?” you raised a brow, trying to ignore how big his hand was around your wrist. 

“I was in a shit mood and I took it out on you,” he explained, “So I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh,” you relaxed slightly and smiled, realizing he was actually in a decent mood today, “It’s okay.”

He gave you his own relieved smile, making your heart lurch in your chest at the sight. It was rare to see any other expression beyond that tired, bored look he always wore. Finally releasing his hold on your wrist, he spoke again, “Let me get dressed and I’ll come eat.”

“Alright,” you nodded, biting your lip as he turned his back to you. As he walked you could see the way the muscles flexed under the skin. 

When he finally vanished through his bedroom door, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Shaking your head you moved back to the kitchen intending to stuff your face to forget about how hot Hitoshi Shinsou really was. 

Before, you thought he was good looking. Usually dark circles were unbecoming but they looked almost at home on his face. His skin was nearly flawless and looked soft to the touch ― you’d seen the skincare products housed in his cabinet. It was expensive shit too. Seriously, what was the guy's job?

That thought had your mind wandering back to the monthly disappearances. 

The chair scraped against the floor as he came back ― wearing a baggy t-shirt and black sweats. He immediately dug in and began to eat. 

“So...I have to ask,” he paused, brows coming together in a scowl as you uttered those words.

“Don’t ask,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“I just wanted to ask...if this is a monthly thing. I’ve only been here for 2 so...I just wanted to make sure,” you clarified, watching his shoulder relax. He seemed extremely defensive over any questions related to his ‘job’, you noted. 

“Yeah. Once at the end of the month I leave for two days to work,” he answered simply, obviously avoiding giving any more information that you could feed off of. 

He was smart at least. 

The sun finally dipped below the horizon and the two of you were sitting on the couch watching TV. He had some documentary on but truthfully you weren’t paying a whole lot of attention to it. 

For some reason, your mind kept bringing you back to the sight that morning of Shinsou. As you looked at him sitting beside you, arm tossed casually over the back of the couch as he slouched with his legs spread, you found yourself admiring him. 

He had a sharp jaw and pretty lips. A look lower, your eyes landed on his hands ― long, pretty fingers with prominent veins beneath the pale skin. 

Suddenly, his sharp gaze cut from the TV to you and you found yourself locked in a gaze with him for a split second before you broke away to look at the TV once more. In your peripheral, you swear you saw a smirk crossing his face. 

But he didn’t comment and for that, you were thankful. 

You bid him goodnight and as usual, he stayed up. You began to wonder if the man even tried to sleep anymore. 

You stepped into the bathroom, warning your roommate that you were taking a shower. He shouted back a simple ‘okay’ before you shut the door. 

You stepped under the stream of water after stripping, the steam of the hot water filling the bathroom and relaxing your muscles. You tipped your head back to wet your hair, humming to yourself. 

You eyed Shinsou’s body wash sitting in the purple caddy handing on a hook on the wall. It brought you back to how nice he smelled when he was close to you. When you could feel his body warmth radiating off of him. You would look at him, his shoulders broad and his body warm and inviting. It was nearly impossible to resist the urge to cuddle yourself into his chest. 

You wondered what it would be like to lay against him, his arms wrapped around you as he softly stroked your skin. Maybe he would press a soft kiss to your forehead ― the idea alone made you melt. 

Realizing you had lost yourself in thought, you hurried to finish your shower and get to bed. 

You fell asleep with Shinsou on your mind that night. 

Shinsou’s third monthly work time finally rolled around once again. This time, you stayed up late so Shinsou had no choice but the interact before he left. You were hoping to maybe get more hints about what it is he did. 

He shut his bedroom door, hoisting his duffle bag over his shoulder with a grunt. You were surprised to see him in actual clothes ― rather nice ones as well. 

His jeans fit him perfectly and the button down shirt he wore was tucked in, showing off his lean figure. The belt buckle on his jeans indicated it was name brand and you found yourself wondering how much his job even paid. 

“I’ll be home same as usual,” he mumbled, bending down to slide his shoes on at the door. He looked so good doing just a simple task and you found your heart racing in your chest. His shoulders were accented so well by his shirt. The sleeves were rolled up halfway on his forearms and there was an expensive looking watch on one of his wrists. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he opened the door ― suddenly finding that you didn’t want him to leave. 

“Um…” you called, making him pause in the open door, looking over his shoulder with a brow raised in question, “You...uh…” you struggled to find something to say but he waited patiently for you to form your next words, “Have a nice time...come home soon.”

Your heart thudded painfully as you watched his gaze soften, a smile forming on his lips as he nodded, “I’ll see you later, ______.”

Your ears were ringing as he shut the door, the sound of your name coming from his lips echoing in your head. You sunk down onto the couch, hand on your chest as you came to a startling realization. 

You had a crush on your roommate. 

Living with Shinsou after coming to terms that you had a crush on him was...difficult to say the least. Simple things he did that you used to pay no mind to, you now found yourself getting jittery at the sight. 

Like the way he rubbed his eyes with a fist when he woke up from a nap on the couch, a sound you could only describe as a whine coming from his throat as he sat up. 

The day your kitchen sink stopped working and he had to fix it was one you wouldn’t ever forget. He was leaning beneath the sink, in the cabinet on his back as he fiddled with some tools on the pipes. His white t-shirt became see-through as he sweat from the hard work, his biceps flexing with every movement he made. His shirt rode up a bit over his stomach, exposing his abs that moved and rippled with every movement. His sweats were riding low on his hips, exposing that delicious v-line and happy trail that vanished beneath the band.

The worst part was the way you could see everything in those gray sweatpants he wore. You were pretty sure he wasn’t wearing any underwear. 

You had to leave the room and hide in your bedroom with the window open until he finally finished fixing it. 

You definitely didn’t let your hand slide down your panties to the mental image of him that night. 

Despite living together for nearly four months, you knew close to nothing personal about Shinsou. Putting aside his weird, shady two-day job once a month, you didn’t have anything else to go off of on who he was. 

He was a quiet guy who liked documentaries, video games, and had insomnia. He really loved to eat breakfast foods and cats. Although you hadn’t been in his room even once, only had a couple peeks inside, you knew he owned some cat-themed stationary at the very least. 

Despite his cold appearance, he was actually quite kindhearted and gentle but seemed to have no desire to show it unless necessary. One time, you cut your finger while cooking and you swear you’d never seen him run faster to get a bandaid from the bathroom ― one with a cat on it, no less. 

You still remember the feeling of his hand holding yours and how close his face was as he inspected the cut. You could have leaned in and kissed him so easily then. 

And god was that tempting. 

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize the glass you were holding in your hand slipped free until it shattered in a million pieces across the linoleum floor. You gasped, startled as you looked around for a way to escape but a single step in an area you thought was clear brought a cry from your lips as you stepped on the tiny shards. 

You heard a loud thump from the living room where he had been playing a video game before the thundering footsteps raced into the kitchen. Shinsou’s eyes were wide, like he was terrified of what he would find. 

“Don’t move,” he snapped, noting the way you leaned against the counter to take your injured foot off of the ground. He opened the storage cabinet and pulled out the broom and dust pan. 

It took only a few minutes for him to clean it up enough to get to you safely on his own bare feet. Instead of you limping your way to the living room however, you found yourself swept off your feet. 

Your heart raced so hard, you could hear it pounding in your ears. You were cradled against his chest, so warm and firm with his strong arms beneath your knees and shoulders. His heavenly scent surrounded you ― more intense than you’d even smelt it before. As you finally got a close look, you took notice of how his long lashes framed his pretty eyes. 

All too soon, you were placed on the couch and he was disappearing down the hall with quick efficiency. You were still stunned from being in his arms that you barely noticed he had returned until he was on his knees in front of you. 

Immediately, your cheeks bloomed hot with a blush. The image of him on his knees like that immediately sent your mind to a wicked place. 

Luckily your dirty mind was stopped in its tracks when he began pulling glass from your foot.

You gasped in pain, attempting to pull away on reflex but he held strong, sharp gaze burning holes into you.

“Sit still,” he growled, sending a shiver down your spine. 

His voice was so low, so commanding that you found yourself immediately doing what he said. You always were weak to a dominant man. 

Soon enough, your foot was cleaned and he deemed that the bleeding had stopped.

“It’ll probably hurt like hell for a little while when you walk on it,” he warned, packing the first aid away. 

“Thanks Hitoshi,” you smiled, earning a soft nod of acknowledgement from the man. 

The memory of being in his arms, even for that brief moment, was imprinted in your mind. As you laid in bed, you thought about it. It made your stomach flutter in excitement as you fell asleep. 

The fourth monthly job for Shinsou came and unfortunately, you missed him leaving. You had stayed up studying and as a result fell asleep earlier than usual. When you woke up he was already gone and you were left with a painful throb in your heart. 

You missed him. 

As you lazed on the couch, you found your mind wandering to him again. Like always. It was like your mind was cursed. 

You wondered if he thought about you at all. The idea made you feel giddy and you had to bite back a smile. You felt like a silly schoolgirl with your crush ― the way he made your stomach flutter, your heart race, and your cheeks burn was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t like you could confess, he hadn’t given much of a hint that he even thought of you as a friend. Plus, you weren’t sure if you were willing to give up the killer apartment and perfect roommate gig you currently had with a foolish confession. 

You heaved a sigh, sitting up with a new idea in mind. 

A way that you could learn more about him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the...most noble means. 

Standing outside his bedroom door, you bit your lip. It felt wrong to go into his room without permission. It wasn’t like he went into your room ― as far as you knew, who knows what he did while you were at school or working. 

The metal doorknob was cold in your palm as you turned it and pushed it open with a soft click.

You’d seen his room in quick glances before when he opened it but you’d never gotten to fully inspect it. He had a large bed that took up the most space in his room. Situated on a dresser at the end of the bed was a TV, a Playstation set up beside it. Against the opposite wall was a desk with a gaming computer setup and a red and black gaming chair pushed in neatly. 

There were a few articles of clothing littering the floor around his laundry basket and his closet was partly open to reveal his primarily monochromatic wardrobe choices. 

Walking into the bedroom, you immediately got a whiff of his cologne, making you smile at the addictive scent. You took a seat on the edge of his bed, the black comforter incredibly soft beneath your hands. 

You leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer, finding nothing too interesting ― a picture of him standing with a smiling boy with crazy green hair, a pink-skinned girl, and a beaming red-haired guy. 

You hadn’t really given it much thought ― that he had friends. He didn’t really talk about anyone, in fact you never heard him mention anyone in his life besides his mom a few times. You did note that he texted on his phone quite a lot and sometimes you could hear him laughing and cursing from his bedroom as he played a video game. You wondered what his friends' names were, what they were like ― what it was like to be friends with Shinsou. 

What you wouldn’t give to be someone...important in his life. 

Sighing, you closed the drawer and moved to his dresser. Your own thoughts caused your heart to ache and you tried to brush it off by looking through the drawers for something interesting. 

Fortunately, you got what you wished for. 

The last drawer to the right contained a little black metal box buried beneath some clothes. You pulled it out and took a seat on the floor, pressing the button to open it. It popped open and you gaped at what you saw. 

It was filled with money. More money than you’d probably ever seen in your whole life. The bills were wrapped together with rubber bands ― there had to be thousands of dollars in even a single stack. As you pulled out the bundles, you found that there were things located beneath them. 

Jewels; all types. Diamond rings, necklaces, bracelets, ruby and emerald gems decorating them. You pulled out a ring and held it up, watching as he gleamed under the light. 

You tucked everything back inside the box and hid it back the way you found it, shutting the drawer before standing up. 

You had no idea what to think as you shut his door once again, moving to your own room. How could he have all that money hidden away like that? It was certainly shady. 

Perhaps it was counterfeit? Or maybe he stole it! 

And what about those jewels? Did he steal those too? Why were they hidden instead of sold off somewhere?

You had so many questions and absolutely no answers. 

Suddenly you were regretting going snooping in his room. 

The fifth month of living with him would have to be where things started to go downhill. 

He came home from his weekend away, tired and grumpy, just wanting a relaxing shower. However, you hadn’t realized he was home so in your tired, sleep-filled daze you stumbled to the bathroom with the urgent need to pee. 

You pushed the bathroom door open and halted in your tracks, heart stopping in your chest at the sight of shirtless Shinsou. 

He had his back to you, displaying the angry red scratch marks that raked down the pale skin of his back, making them stand out even more. He realized you were there and spun around, eyes narrowed in a glare. With his chest in view, you could see all the hickeys and bites that trailed down  his body, disappearing in the hem of his jeans that he had yet to shed.

“Get the hell out,” he snapped, ripping the door from your hand before slamming in shut in your face. 

You stared at the wood for several, long seconds, stunned. You heard the shower start and snapped out of your daze. Forgetting your once desperate need to pee, you trudged back to your  bedroom and quietly shut the door. 

You weren’t a fool ― you knew exactly what those marks meant. You crawled under the covers and found yourself wondering what kind of woman got Hitoshi Shinsou’s attention enough to get him into bed. 

And what did she have that you didn’t?

Truth be told, you couldn’t even imagine him as the type to sleep around. He wasn’t exactly sociable and he rarely seemed to go out of his way to interact even with his friends.

You could hear the shower turn off and you were suddenly reminded of the way he slammed the door in your face ― the ache from realizing he’d been with someone else only exacerbated by the knife of his shouting at you. 

You closed your eyes and attempted to sleep, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. 

The next morning, you found yourself not wanting to get out of bed. You could hear Shinsou shuffling around the house, doing god knows what. You heard him walk down the hallway, heart freezing as he stopped in front of your bedroom door. 

You closed your eyes, willing him to go away. 

Luck was not on your side, however, as he knocked thrice on your door. It was loud enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to feign sleeping through it. 

You sighed and crawled out of bed and trudged over to the door, pulling it open just a bit to get a look at him. 

He had his head down, hand clasped around the nape of his neck with his other hand shoved in his pocket. He looked up when he heard the door open, brows drawn together as he gazed at you partially hiding behind the door. 

“I uh…” he cleared his throat, “I went out and picked us up some breakfast.”

“Oh…” you shifted on your feet awkwardly, nodding your head, “Thanks...I’ll eat later.”

You were about to close the door, desperate to escape the burning in your eyes as you remembered last night. Before it could close, however, he shoved his hand in the crack. You paused, not wanting to crush his hand in the door. You let him push it open to show more of you ― clad in shorts and an oversized t-shirt that you loved to sleep in. Thankfully the shirt was big enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“I have to apologize,” he grunted, meeting your gaze, “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that last night. I was just ticked off…” he trailed off.

You bit your lip, “I uh...I didn’t know you were home...so that’s why I just...walked in…” 

He shook his head, “No I understand, really. Y-You just surprised me and I reacted. I really need to stop taking my shit out on you, I’ll work on that, really. I shouldn’t have slammed the door like that either. It was a shit night but it wasn’t your fault you didn’t know I came home.”

“I-It’s alright, Hitoshi, really,” you smiled, though it faltered a bit at the memory of those scratches and hickeys.

“I...hope you’re not hiding away in here because I upset you,” he muttered, making you frown once more.

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

He bit his lip, looking away awkwardly, “you’re usually up around 10 and it’s...getting close to noon. You don’t do that normally so...I can only think you were trying to avoid me and that’s the last thing I want. This is your home too and I never want you to feel like you can’t be comfortable here.”

You gaped at him, processing what he was telling you. First, he paid close enough attention to you that he knew what time you got up ― that thought made happiness bloom in your chest and second, that was probably the most you’d heard him say in one sitting.

“It’s okay now, Hitoshi,” you smiled, “let me get dressed and I’ll be out to eat, okay?”

He smiled, making your cheeks burn at the sight as he nodded, turning away from you to move back to the living room. You closed your door and sighed. 

It was crazy how just a simple smile from him had your heart fluttering. However, it was quickly halted by the memory that he had someone ― maybe it was a girlfriend. That made your chest ache and you bit your lip to halt those negative feelings as you stripped and changed out of your pajamas. 

You had no idea how you were going to get past the painful clench in your chest every time you looked at him now. 

Month six rolled around and nothing very interesting happened. Shinsou moved his playstation into the living room so the two of you could play some games together. It was a fun bonding experience and you got to watch the way his eyes would light up whenever he beat you. The sound of his laugh still rang in your ears and you couldn’t help but smile every time you thought back to that pretty smile of his. 

It became a weekly thing for the two of you, every Friday night you would sit down on the couch together and play into the early hours of the morning. You got to know more about Shinsou than you had ever before. 

Sometimes he would jerk his body and brush against yours, sending goosebumps across your skin. He was always so warm and inviting ― just having him near you sent your poor heart into palpitations. 

You almost forgot about what happened the previous month when he came back ― those hickeys and scratches on his back finally having been cast out of your mind. 

Your heart did ache when you bid him goodbye the night he left again, wondering if he was going to see her or not. 

The seventh month was when that already precariously balanced life came crumbling down all at once. 

Shinsou was in the shower as you played on his Playstation, sitting in front of the TV with a frown on your face. You could hear the shower running and in the back of your mind you pictured what he might look like ― water running down his flawless skin, his hands caressing. You felt an almost pitiful clench in your core at the mental image. 

Your perversions were cut short by the sharp ring of the doorbell. You paused your game and groaned as you stood up, your knees popping from being sat in the same position for too long. Unlocking the door, you pulled it open and paused. 

A woman stood on the other side of the door, a well-fitting black dress and fur coat wrapped around her shoulders. Her ears, neck, and wrists were adorned with sparkling jewelry and you could see the red bottoms of her expensive heels. She wore vibrant red lipstick across pretty, smiling lips as she acknowledged you. However, you could see the cold gleam in her eyes that made the smile all too fake. 

“Can I help you?” you asked, leaning against the door jam. 

She hummed, tucking some hair behind her ear with perfectly manicured nails, “Is Toshi here?”

“Toshi?” you raised a brow at the nickname, “He’s in the shower. What do you need?”

“Just to talk,” she replied, stepping forward like she wanted to come in. When you didn’t budge she raised a brow, “You don’t mind if I come in, right? I’m sure Toshi would love to see me.”

“Uh…” you didn’t get a chance to reply as she brushed past you, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor as she made her way towards the living room, “Sure...come on in…” you whispered sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you shut the door. 

You could hear the shower was turned off, indicating Shinsou would be returning in a minute. You looked at the woman as she glanced around the apartment, feeling a sting of jealousy burning within you. 

Was she the girl he was dating?

“So...how do you know Hitoshi?” you asked, making her smile. 

“I’m his girlfriend, of course!” she beamed, voice far too peppy for your liking.

The words sent an arrow through your heart and you looked away with a hum, ignoring the need to flee to your room and cry into the pillow like a stupid middle schooler. 

As if on cue, the bathroom door opened and Shinsou strolled down the hall, towling his hair as he moved. 

Any other time you would have drooled over the sight of a shirtless Shinsou, gym shorts hanging loose on his hips as he walked.

“Uh...Hitoshi…” you mumbled, getting his attention. 

He looked up from beneath his towel, meeting your gaze before his eyes moved to the woman beside you. Immediately his eyes went wide and he stood up straight. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, startling you with how aggressive those words came out. 

The girl didn’t seem too affected, merely pouting as she spoke, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You have no business being here,” he growled, jerking his head to the door, “Get out.”

“No!” she argued, walking right up to him, “I deserve answers before you throw me away like trash, Hitoshi!”

“I don’t owe you anything,” he replied coldly, breezing past both you and her to go to the kitchen. She followed him but you remained in the kitchen, listening as they argued.

“Why won’t you see me anymore?!” she cried, petulantly stomping her heeled foot. 

“Because you got too damn attached,” he spat, opening the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water before walking into the living room again. 

“Attached?!” she gasped, grabbing his arm to force him to look at her, “I have given you so much. How can you just break it off without a real reason! Come on, Toshi, just...be with me, you won’t have to work anymore.”

He tensed, glancing over at you at the mention of her job, jaw set, “Just get out, Kana.”

She looked over at you, a sly smile forming on her lips, “She doesn’t know what you do, does she? Is that why you’re avoiding this?”

He didn’t reply, simply glared at her. Kana scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “After all I spent on you, you have no right to just run away. You know I can treat you better than anyone else can, Hitoshi. You’re making a mistake.”

“I have plenty of other clients lined up, Kana,” he shot back, making her frown. He chuckled at the sign of weakness she showed, “What? Did you think you were the only one? No, sweetheart, I have plenty of girls waiting to spend even just one night with me. You’re not special. You’re certainly not the highest paying one either. There’s nothing of importance tying me to you. You have nothing special to offer. You got too attached, starting having feelings for me...you know it would never work with my job. So just leave before you get your feelings hurt.”

Both of you were stunned silent. You because you had never heard him speak so coldly and harshly to someone before ― even when he was having a bad day and accidentally took it out on you. Her because the words he spat out with such venom wrecked her pride and made her burn with anger. 

She clenched her fists and snapped her head towards you, “Best not to get close to this prick,” she warned, her voice watery with unshed tears, “A man who makes money being a sugar baby isn’t one you want to get attached too.”

With those last words, she stormed out. The slam of the door made both you and Shinsou flinch. The silence that followed was even more deafening, however. 

Shinsou cursed under his breath, running a hand through his half-dry hair.

“So...she wasn’t your girlfriend?” you asked, making him look over at you. 

He was quiet for a second before chuckling under his breath, “You learn what my job is and that's the first thing you wonder?”

“Well!” you defended yourself quickly, “She introduced herself as your girlfriend!”

He shook his head, moving around the couch to take a seat, “No, she was just...a client I spent time with for a while. She started catching feelings so I cut it off and referred her to a friend of mine. Apparently...she didn’t like that.”

“How’d she know you lived here?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He shrugged, “She could have looked through my shit at some point, I suppose.”

You hummed, not wanting to push him to reveal more than he wanted to. After all, it wasn’t even his choice to expose his line of work anyway. 

Well, at least you had answers on why he had all those expensive clothes, cash, and jewelry. It was good to know he wasn’t some type of shady thief in the end. 

“It’s...just a really bad idea to get involved with clients,” he explained suddenly, “It’s not a relationship that’s built up on anything real. Having to pay for the company of someone is not a good foundation,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair again before looking at you, “I hope you...don’t think differently of me because of my job.”

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head, “It’s not really my place to judge you, you know?”

“Thanks,” he smiled, “It’s not really something that’s as bad as people think. It gets a bad rep for having sex for money and shit but...truthfully majority of my job is just...being company to rich women. Sometimes they want to take me around to some fancy parties to show me off or go on dates because they’re lonely. Sex isn’t the majority of what I do. I mean...I will but...it’s not the most common occurrence.”

Once again, the vision of those hickeys and sex-scratches crossed your mind and you found yourself wondering what kind of woman gave him those. At least you could be assured he wasn’t going out to see his girlfriend when he went to work ― they were strictly clients.

Which meant...he was probably single. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest at the hopeful idea. 

“How about I order some take out?” you asked, standing up to retrieve your phone. 

“Get some pizza,” he called as you disappeared down the hall. 

After his occupation was revealed to you, things began to look up. He became more open and carefree around you ― as he no longer had a big secret to hide. He didn’t really talk about his work but he wasn’t hiding it from you either. 

You decided not to ask too many questions, knowing you’d only burn up in jealousy at the idea. You knew you didn’t really have a right to be jealous since you weren’t his girlfriend or anything but you couldn’t help it either. 

The peaceful feeling didn’t last long, however. Once the fire started burning, it had no other choice but to rage. 

“You should really just tell him, _____!” your friend, Uraraka whined, head against the table.

“It’s seriously painful,” Momo agreed, “All this pining is making me sick.”

“Oh real nice,” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your coffee. 

It felt nice to hang around with your friends for once ― it wasn’t something you frequently got the opportunity to do. 

Just as Uraraka was about to open her mouth and reply, a looming shadow dropped over the table. You all looked over to find the familiar blonde hair and wide grin.

“Kaminari,” you greeted with a smile.

“Hey _____,” he waved before tucking his hands in his pockets, “Listen, I’ve been wanting to ask for a while but...would you like to go out with me sometime?”

The question left you stunned. 

You weren’t super close to Denki Kaminari, you shared a few general studies classes. He was a goofy, excitable guy who always seemed to know how to light up a room. Everyone around him was always in a good mood, in general he was just a very positive person. 

Not just that but he wasn’t too bad to look at either; with his pretty, wide eyes and sharp jawline. The black lightning bolt streak through his hair just made him look even more charming. 

But you hesitated, your mind drifting to Shinsou. 

Sighing, you bit your lip, “Can I get back to you on that?”

He smiled, nodding his head, obviously relieved you didn’t tell him a flat out no, “No problem. I’ll see you later!”

Once he was gone, a sharp smack landed on your back making you cry out.

“Why didn’t you give him an answer?!” Momo cried.

“Denki’s a great guy, _____! You should do it!” Uraraka added.

You shrugged, “It’s just…”

“If you’re holding out hoping something will miraculously happen with stupid Shinsou, it’s a stupid idea,” Momo said, making you pout that she had read you so easily.

“Just tell him how you feel, _____,” Uraraka sighed, “If he rejects you, you can accept Denki’s date!”

You sighed but didn’t reply. Your two friends shared a look before changing the topic, drawing the attention away from your hopeless crush on your roommate. 

When you got home, you were filled with a sense of urgency. Shinsou wasn’t in the living room so you went to his bedroom, knocking a few times on the door before he opened it. 

“Hey,” he greeted, a tired smile on his face, “Welcome home.”

“Hitoshi,” you swallowed thickly, steeling yourself.

He frowned, “What is it?”

“I need to talk to you,” you breathed.

“Okay,” he stepped aside, waving you into his room.

You hesitated for a second, realizing that there would be no turning back once you walked inside. The door shutting behind you echoed in your head. He moved past you to take a seat on his computer chair. The screen was lit up behind him, indicating he had probably been playing something before you interrupted. 

“I’m all ears,” he said softly, relaxing back in his seat.

“I…” you shifted on your feet, biting your lip, “I got asked out on a date.”

He raised his brow, cocking his head to the side. Part of you had hoped you would see some hint of jealousy from him at your words but his face remained as steely as ever.

“And...you want advice or something?” he chuckled.

You shook your head, “I want to know if…” you took in a deep breath, “If you like me before I accept him.”

He was silent for what felt like an eternity, just staring at you. Shinsou was always the type of man to think before he spoke, running through all possibilities before opening his mouth. His throat moved as he swallowed, a soft sigh coming from his nose.

“You...have a crush on me, or something?” he asked, making you deflate slightly.

“Yes,” you admitted, “And...if you don’t like me back then I’ll accept this boy’s date. There’s no reason for me to wait around and hope you’ll like me back when I could be out meeting someone new.”

He nodded his head, quieting once more. You watched as he stood up, taking a few steps towards you, “_____…” you heart clenched at his tone, knowing what was coming, “My job...it doesn’t leave me room for personal relationships.”

Despite how much you prepared yourself for it, hearing him reject you hurt. You nodded, forcing yourself not to cry as you backed up towards the door.

“Alright then,” you gave him a tight-lipped smile, turning your back to him, “I guess I’ll accept Kaminari’s date then.”

As you walked out his door, you didn’t see the pained look in his eyes. Your name lingered on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t dare speak out. The click of his door was deafening in his ears and when you were gone he sighed, hanging his head as he sat on the edge of his bed, feeling like an idiot. 

The next day, you hunted down Kaminari, telling him you’d love to go out on a date with him. He was thrilled, going off excitedly about how he couldn’t believe you actually accepted him and that he would make it the best date ever. 

And truth be told, the date was a blast. You had told him you’d never been to laser tag before and immediately he said that was exactly what you do then. The sound of Denki’s laughter still echoed in your ears as he lost to you, accusing you of cheating in a lighthearted tone. 

You didn’t see much of Shinsou after you started seeing Kaminari. Although it was casual, you spent a good bit of time hanging out with him ― he began eating with you, Uraraka, and Momo on campus and the two of you texted often. 

It seemed that Shinsou wasn’t making a big effort to hang out with you anyway. As much as that hurt, you knew it was for the best. It spared you a lot of hurt and him of the awkwardness of living with a girl who had a crush on him. 

It was fair enough, you mused. 

But when you laid in bed at night, your phone on silent and the faint sound of Shinsou’s voice floating through the walls as he gamed with his friends, you felt the now familiar tug on your heart. You longed to be with him. 

But you knew it was pointless now. 

You’d been seeing Kaminari for a month when he showed up on your doorstep to pick you up. Usually you would leave and meet him but due to the rain, he opted to pick you up and save you both from the hassle. 

You were in your room, putting the final touches on your makeup when the doorbell rang. Before you could react, you heard Shinsou open the door. 

You quickly grabbed your purse, tossing the strap over your shoulder as you opened your door. You could hear their voices carrying down the hallway.

“Holy shit!” Kaminari laughed, “What a small world ― it’s been a while Hitoshi!”

“Denki,” Shinsou greeted curtly. 

“You ______’s roommate?” Kaminari asked, tucking his hands in his pockets as he waited for you, “She’s talked about you a bit. Didn’t know it was you, though, man!”

“Denki―” Shinsou was about to say something more but was cut off by your entrance.

“Hey there babydoll!” Kaminari greeted with a grin, holding his hand out for you to take, “See you later, Hitoshi!”

Shinsou didn’t respond as he watched the two of you leave, his jaw set tight as he held himself back from calling out. 

-

You felt like you’d never been more angry in your life as you stormed home. Things had been going so well between you and Kaminari, you felt like you could genuinely start to like him. You enjoyed his company and began to think less and less about one purple haired roommate of yours. 

You slammed the front door, startling poor Shinsou on the couch. He turned around, eyes wide at the blazing anger visible on your face.

“What the hell is your problem, Shinsou?!” you cried, kicking your shoes off and tossing your backpack to the floor.

“Huh?” he raised a brow dumbly, only fanning the flames of your rage. 

“You…” you heaved, fists clenched, “Who do you think you are?! Telling Denki to break it off with me?!”

Realization quickly flashed over his face and he groaned, standing up, “I didn’t tell him to break up with you!” he argued. You opened your mouth to retort but he put his hand up to stop you, “I just told him to think it over. Do you know how we know each other, ____?”

“No,” you shook your head, tossing your hands up, “What does it matter? You still have no right to interfere in my relationship!”

“He’s in the same line of work I am!” he snapped, rounding the couch, “He does the same exact thing I do.”

You paused, letting the information sink in, “Why does that matter?”

He shook his head, “Do you really want to be with a guy who spends his nights in bed with women, _____? That’s not exactly the easiest job to trust a man with.”

You didn’t have a retort, “I thought...the majority of the job was just being a companion.”

Shinsou sighed, taking a seat once more, “It really depends on the guy. Denki is pretty popular because he loves to get his dick wet.”

You thought those words would make you feel jealous. The idea of the guy you were seeing fucking other women should make you feel something but instead...you felt almost relieved. Still, it didn’t simmer the anger you felt towards Shinsou at putting his nose in your business.

“You should have come to me and told me your concerns, Shinsou,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him, “Instead of going behind my back for me to be dumped.”

“You’re right,” he admitted, biting his lip, “I just...wanted to see if Denki was still the same as he was when I last knew him. It’s just how it happened. I am sorry.”

Sensing his apology was sincere, you relaxed and nodded, “I’ve got to study.”

With that, you hid away in your room. 

You couldn’t deny you still felt a bit ticked off with him but at least you were able to move past it. You realized you weren’t truly attached to Kaminari, you were just using him to shove your feelings for Shinsou away ― a pretty dick move on your part. So you were relieved to be out of the relationship.

Unfortunately, this left you with Shinsou once more. Where he once was pushed from your mind for the most part, he now resumed plaguing your thoughts. 

You couldn’t deny how tired you were. 

It was emotionally exhausting feeling your heart race at the mere sight of him only for it to ache when you remembered there was no chance in hell he’d even give you the time of day. 

Things reached a head when he returned from work. Eleven months in and all the negative feelings and tension finally culminated. 

“Hey Shinsou,” you called, finding him leaning against the kitchen island with a cereal bar in his hands. 

He looked over his shoulder, an unusually cold look in his eyes as he regarded you, “What?”

You tried not to flinch at the tone, frowning, “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he snapped and you sighed, realizing he was in one of his moods, “What do you want?”

“I...nevermind,” you shrugged, “We’ll talk when you’re in a better mood.”

You hadn’t meant for it to be something to piss him off further. You truly meant that you would wait until he felt better to talk. For some reason, however, he took it wrong.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” he growled, pushing himself off of the counter to storm up to you.

“Nothing!” you defended, “I don’t want to get into anything with you, okay?”

“If you have something to say then just say it!” he snapped, making you shake your head.

“No!” you argued, turning on your heel to storm into your bedroom. 

Before you could get very far, however, a tight hand was wrapped around your elbow, pulling you back.

“Don’t fucking run from me!” his tone sent shivers down your spine, the angry fire burning in his eyes finally snapping something inside you.

“I am so fucking tired of this!” you tore your arm from his grip, not missing the frustrated grunt he gave in response, “This shit isn’t working anymore, Shinsou! You clearly don’t know what the hell to do with yourself; you come home from working and you’re in a shit mood and you take it out on me. Then you act like everything is perfectly fine. You know how I feel about you, so you can’t even pretend that doesn’t have anything to do with your behavior. In fact, I know it affects you because why else would you have convinced the only guy I’ve seen in the past like two years to dump me like trash! All over this stupid fucking job of yours. I don’t want to deal with the shitty way you make me feel, Shinsou!”

“So?” he snapped, teeth bared.

“So I’m gonna fucking move out!” you threatened, standing nose to nose with him.

His eyes narrowed and he let out a humourless laugh, “Fine! The sooner the better!”

With those last words he stormed past you, slamming his bedroom door with deafening finality. 

You were left alone in the living room, fists clenched as tears you’d held back so long finally broke free. 

A stupid purple haired idiot was not worth being hurt so much over. That you were sure of. 

It’s not like he even cared, apparently. 

With that thought finally pushing you into action, you returned to your own room to begin looking for new housing. 

In all your time living with him, the longest you went without seeing him was two days. Once a month when he went to work ― that was the only length of time you didn’t see him every day. 

Now, however, the two of you were avoiding each other like the plague. You had been busting your ass finding a new apartment, going to school, and working as usual. Shinsou had been hiding in his room the majority of the time. 

You even stopped cooking. 

Part of you wondered if he even noticed. Deep down, however, you knew he probably didn’t care. 

He would just get a new roommate and go on like usual. Like you had never existed. 

At least you’d be able to get over him then. 

It took a month before you found a decent place. It was nowhere near as nice as your current one but there was nothing you could do about that. Your situation with Shinsou was unique and you knew you were never gonna have an opportunity like this again. 

You came to terms with that. 

Wandering out of your room, you were surprised to find him sitting on the couch. His nose was buried in his phone but the TV played his usual shows. 

“Hey,” you greeted, keeping your voice even. He grunted in response, not looking up, “I found a place. I’ll be out by the end of the week.”

He didn’t say anything and you sighed, feeling your eyes burn. 

How you wished he would say something to stop you ― to show you that the past year wasn’t a huge waste of time and that you really meant nothing to him. You felt you could have at least called yourselves friends but...apparently that was one sided. 

The thought hurt so you escaped to your room once again to hide. 

The night before your move, you were laying in bed playing a game on your phone. Laying on your back, you held the screen up and tapped your thumbs aggressive against the screen. Your momentum was lost by three sharp knocks on your door. You cried out as your phone fell from your hand and dropped on your face. 

“Shit,” you groaned, tossing it away and getting up from bed. 

Opening the door, your words caught in your throat at the sight of Hitoshi Shinsou’s sleepy gaze fixated on you. His hand was clasped around the nape of his neck and he was looking away nervously. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” his head snapped towards you, eyes wide before you realized how that sounded, “I-I mean I thought you were supposed to be gone! You know...to work.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly and he shrugged, “I cancelled. I...wanted...no, I needed to talk to you. Can I come in?”

You stood there for a few seconds, thinking it over before stepping aside to let him in. He gave you a tight lipped smile before you shut the door behind him. Turning to face him, you took note of the way his free hand was shoved into his sweats pocket. The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. 

“What...what did you need?” you asked, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

He remained standing, obviously thinking over his words carefully. His back was to you, his figure hunched slightly in his usual posture. But you couldn’t miss the tension his form held. 

“I never intended this to become a long-term thing,” for a moment you thought he was talking about your living arrangement but before you could refute, he was turning to you, “This sugar baby thing, that is. I had a friend who did it and made some good money from it and eventually I got into the scene and realized just how good it could pay. It’s been like 2 or 3 years now since I’ve been at it.”

He dropped his hand from around his neck, beginning to pace around your room to gaze at your various knick-knacks. He paused at the few boxes you had packed up already, a frown marring his face.

“I make even more money by selling the presents I get. Sometimes the clients will give me jewelry or clothes, I always sell them,” he sighed, picking up a snow globe that sat atop your dresser, shaking it mindlessly to watch the fake snow float around the glass. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked softly.

“The truth is, I hate the majority of my job,” he confessed, ignoring your question, “Most of the people are pretentious assholes who think they’re better than me because they pay me. I don’t mind being arm candy, it doesn’t really bother me. And not gonna lie sometimes the sex is bomb,” he chuckled almost lifelessly and you ignored the pang in your chest at his words, “But the position I’m in forces me to basically do whatever they want me to. Naturally, I have limits and shit but if they want to dominate me I let them and that sucks.”

“Hitoshi,” you grumbled, making him look at you, “Why are you telling me about your sexual preferences?”

“Oh right…” he shook his head, “I hate doing it because I don’t have much control in my life because of it,” he looked at you with fierce eyes, “That’s why...I want to say fuck it.”

Before you could respond, he was walking up to you, cupping your cheek in a warm hand. Your eyes were wide, staring up at him as he moved close to you, his lips brushing yours. 

“It’s been so fucking painful letting you go,” he whispered, “Having to reject you and let you go out with fucking Denki nearly broke me down, not gonna lie. I didn’t want him to hurt you, that’s why I interfered...but I also...didn’t want to let him have you when I wanted you so damn bad myself.”

Your heartbeat stuttered as you stared up at him, wide eyed, “D-Does that mean you…”

He nodded, “Shit, I’ve liked you for so long, _____. It’s been so hard not telling you how I feel every single day.”

“Hitoshi,” you likced your lips, reaching up to fist the front of his shirt. He hummed before you spoke again, “Please kiss me.”

There was a quick flash of his smile before his lips met yours ― every bit as soft as you expected them to be. You could faintly taste toothpaste on his lips but you didn’t mind one bit, he probably tasted the same from you. 

His hand moved from your cheek to your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Your own hands moved around his shoulders, pulling him closer. 

You quickly found yourself on your back, his hand wandering up the hem of your shirt, touching the bare skin of your stomach. You whimpered, fisting his hair as you kept him locked in a kiss. He didn’t seem to mind, simply sighing against your lips. 

You still had questions but you couldn’t bear the thought of stopping this so you tucked them into the back of your mind, devoting yourself to what was right in front of you. 

Shinsou sat up just slightly, breaking the kiss. You almost whined but the feeling of his hand creeping upwards towards your bare breast stopped you.

“Is this okay?” he asked for your consent, pausing before he actually touched you.

“Very,” you breathed, tugging him back down for another kiss. 

Immediately, he cupped your breast, thumbing your already erected nipple. You gasped into his mouth, earning an amused chuckle from him.

“Sensitive?” he asked, pecking your lips before suddenly sitting back. 

This time you did whine at the loss. He flashed you a fond smile before pushing the hem of your shirt up to your neck, revealing your chest to his greedy eyes. 

“D-Don’t just stare,” you complained, feeling your cheeks burn as he admired your body. 

“Sorry,” he replied insincerely, cupping your breast once more, “You have such pretty tits, you know? I couldn’t help it.”

You scoffed but it turned into a choked gasp as he enveloped your pert bud in his hot mouth, wet tongue lashing against it before he pulled away with a firm suck. You wrapped your hands in those soft, purple tresses and whined. His other hand came up to pinch your other nipple, making sure to give it just as much attention. 

“Toshi…” you whined, tugging his hair until he pulled away, his lips swollen. 

“What is it, baby?” he hummed, nosing at your neck to press soft kisses there.

“T-Take your shirt off,” you breathed, tugging at the hem until you were able to pull it over his head with a bit of assistance. 

Once he was as shirtless as you, your hands began to wander to touch every bit of skin you had long to for so long. He let you explore, letting out a soft sigh when you brushed over one of his hardened nipples. You didn’t linger in one place for long, quickly growing too curious at the sight of his member straining against those damn sweatpants he always wore. 

His head tipped back as you palmed him through the fabric, quickly noticing that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Eagerly, you dipped your fingers beneath the hem and pulled his cock free, your fingers not even able to touch once wrapped around. 

He was thick, a curve to his length that you just knew would hit a certain spot inside of you that would make you lose your mind. The head was a flushed red color, leaking precum that you used to give him a couple easy strokes. 

He reached down, grabbing your wrist to stop you before slipping his own hand down the hem of your shorts and panties. 

Your hips bucked the second his fingers made contact with your folds ― already dripping wet and coating his digits generously. He gave a few soft circles to your clit, testing your sensitivity before finding the pressure that had you cunt clenching around nothing. 

You whined, grinding your hips against his touch in hopes he’d slip at least one of those long fingers into you. Thankfully, you were granted your wish and more as he easily slid his middle and ring fingers in. 

He groaned as you walls tightly clenched around him, trying to desperately pull him back in whenever he pulled them out slightly. 

“Feel good?” he breathed, already knowing the answer but craving your praise.

“So good,” you whimpered, biting your lip. He curled his fingers suddenly, nailing that sweet, spongy spot on your upper wall, “Right there!” you gasped. 

He grinned, massaging that one pleasure-point with vigor, “Yeah? Right there, kitten?”

You keened at the name, walls clenching. He groaned at the feeling, suddenly pulling his hand free from your shorts. You didn’t have time to complain before he was tugging the remaining articles down your legs to toss away. 

He moved with practice expertise, grabbing you beneath the thighs to pin them open. Your wet cunt was exposed to his all too greedy eyes. He licked his lips at the sight, making your cheeks burn. 

Before you knew it, he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, tugging you down just a bit so your ass was almost hanging off the edge. The position left you completely at his mercy. He knew it too. 

You watched with bated breath as he spread your folds open ― revealing the shiny, pink hole that continuously dripped your arousal. It clenched beneath his leering gaze and he groaned. 

“Fuck!” you squealed when he dove forward to wrap his lips around your hardened clit. 

He hummed at your taste, sending vibrations through the little bud. He quickly abandoned that in favor of getting a full taste of your juices. Tonguing your entrance, he reveled in how tight you were around his tongue. 

You reached down, tanging your fingers in his hair as he ate you with all he had. His tongue worked expertly to circle your clit before dipping back down to your hole once again. 

“Please, put your fingers in,” you begged, desperate to be filled. 

He quickly obliged, slipping two long digits into your clenched pussy before mouthing over your clit eagerly. He could already feel you clenching sporadically around him and he couldn’t resist setting a quick pace, hammering against your sweet spot with every movement. 

Your muscles were taught as you felt that glorious high building up. Soft pleas left your lips as your back arched. 

“Gonna cum, kitten?” he tasted, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Y-Yeah!” you sobbed, abandoning your hold on his hair to tear at your blankets ― not wanting to hurt him in your throes of pleasure. 

“Cum then,” the casual way he said those words flicked a switch and you were cumming. 

He groaned through your high, feeling your cunt spasm around him. He felt your cum gush from around his digits, soaking them as you clit throbbed beneath the pad of his tongue. Once your body began to relax, he pulled away. 

Your thighs slammed shut once he was out of the way, your muscles trembling through the intense aftershocks. While you were coming down, he stripped himself of his sweats, popping his cum-soaked fingers into his mouth with a groan as he fisted his cock to the sight of you trembling. 

The fact he made you cum so hard was a boost to his ego and he didn’t bother fighting the prideful grin on his face. Sweat coated your skin and made your hair stick to your neck. 

After several seconds, he climbed onto the bed and maneuvered you so your head was in the pillows. You bit your lip and grinned slyly at him as he climbed onto the bed. 

“Shit uh…” he looked around your room quickly, a frown on his lips. You looked up at him curiously before he explained, “Condom?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, “D-Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?” he gaped down at you.

You shrugged, “I’m on the pill and well...I’m sure you use condoms with you...job, right?”

“Always,” he blinked.

“Then…” you wiggled your hips at him with a cheeky grin. 

He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. Reaching between the two of you, he gripped his cock and tapped the head of it against your folds. Your thighs jumped as he slapped lightly against your sensitive clit. 

Finally, he began to press into you and your mouth fell open at the delicious stretch his cock gave you. He clenched his teeth, letting you soft groans as he sunk more of his length into you. Your walls gripped him so tightly, spasming and clenching as he was fully seated within you. 

The two of you had to pause before continuing, the feeling of him filling you up too much. His cock was thick, making you feel like he was stuffing you full. 

“Please,” you begged, fisting the pillows on either side of your head as he sat back on his heels. 

Gazing between your thighs, he nearly lost it at the sight of your cunt stretched tight to accommodate him. He thumbed over your clit, receiving a sharp cry from your lips. 

“Fuck...you’re so fucking tight,” he growled, circling his hips against yours with a groan, “I can feel you clenching so tight around me. Bet you wanna cum again, huh?”

“Yes!” you cried quickly, mouth agape as he gave a sudden thrust, “Please make me cum!”

He shushed you, rubbing his thumbs over your hips, “Don’t worry, kitten, I got you...I’ll get you there.”

Before you could respond, he was setting an almost brutal pace. You always imagined what Shinsou would be like in bed ― you pictured it too many times at night. Sometimes you imagined he would take it slow with deep, intense thrusts. Other times you’d picture exactly this; rough, harsh thrusts that you were sure were going to leave you sore when the morning came. 

You had no complaints though. 

Hitoshi gripped you beneath your knees, pinning your legs to your chest as he fucked you. Your cunt gushed around him, making lewd, wet noises reverberate around the room and mingle with your mixed moans. He let out groans of pleasure, strands of purple hair sticking to his forehead. 

You couldn’t help but admire the sight of him ― muscles rippling and moving with the force of his thrusts. Reaching up, you pulled him closer against you, dragging your nails across his shoulder blades. 

He winced but you felt his cock twitch at the pinch of pain inflicted as a result. You thought back to what you saw that one night ― the marks some random woman left on his body. Suddenly, you were overcome with the need to mark him as yours. 

Catching him by surprise, you managed to flip him over, straddling his waist, using his strong chest as leverage to fuck yourself on his thick cock. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper, almost hitting your cervix every time you sunk down on him. He gripped your hips, assisting your movements as he tossed his head back into the pillows. 

“Shit, that’s it, kitten,” he praised, reaching up to pinch one of your nipples.

You keened at the praise, leaning down to deliver a sharp bite against his shoulder, sucking at the skin until a bright red mark bloomed. You eyed it proudly, biting your lip as you ground against his cock, making sure your clit got the attention it needed. 

Shinsou bucked into you, making you whine as he started a steady pace of bouncing. Your thighs burned but it was worth the sight of having him beneath you. The way he stared up at you, as if you were a goddess made your heart race. 

“Toshi…” you whined, leaning back to steady yourself on his thighs as he started to thrust up into you. 

“What is it, babygirl?” he grunted, gripping your hips tightly as he fucked his thick cock into your gushing cunt. 

“Make me cum, please!” you begged, biting your lip. 

He grinned, bringing his thumb to his lips to lick the pad of it, “I got you, baby.”

Before you could think of a response, he was circling his thumb around your clit, the bud desperate for attention. Your body tensed with just a few quick circles of his thumb, his cock angled against your g-spot so perfectly that you immediately reached your high. 

Through your own cries of pleasure, you heard him moaning alongside you before he froze, his cock buried deep inside you as he came. His cock throbbed and pulsed with every jet of hot cum he released into your clenching walls. 

All at once, things stilled. You both relaxed against each other. His cock was still stuffed inside you, softening as his cum leaked out around him to make a mess between the two of you. You laid your head against his chest, his large hand cupping the back of it, pressing soft kisses against your forehead until your heartbeats finally slowed to a reasonable pace. 

“Let’s take a bath, baby,” he groaned as he sat up, keeping you secure in his lap.

You were surprised he could carry you so easily after he nearly fucked the very life out of you. 

Soon enough, you found yourself surrounded by sweet-smelling water with a fucked-out Shinsou cuddling against your back.

“Not to...ruin this afterglow bliss,” you hummed, leaning back against him as the warm water ripped around you, “But what brought this confession on suddenly? I thought you said your job doesn’t allow room for relationships.”

He was quiet for several, long seconds before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your shoulder, “I didn’t think it was fair to let myself be with you when I was going out once a month to hang around with a bunch of women. It isn’t something I want to put you through.”

“So you’re going to quit?” you asked. 

He nodded, “I probably won’t be able to make enough money to keep this place but...if it means I can have you without feeling like shit about hurting you, then yeah. It’ll be worth it, I’m sure.”

“Why don’t you just…” you bit your lip, pausing.

“What?” you questioned, gripping your chin to make you look at him, “Talk to me.”

You hummed, “Just stop with the sex and kissing stuff...just be arm candy, like you said. Hang out with them. They’ll still pay for that, right?”

He raised a brow, shifting so he could look better at your face, “You’d be okay with me going to hang out with a bunch of women who want nothing more than to sit on my dick?”

“Well…” you cleared your throat, your cheeks burning, “As long as only I get to sit on your dick then it’ll be fine. I trust you, Hitoshi.”

He was quiet once again before a smile fell across his lips, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips, “We’ll talk more about it later. Let’s just relax.”

He tucked you against his chest, leaning back against the porcelain of the tub. With his fingers caressing across your skin, you allowed yourself to drift off ― finally wrapped up in those damn arms you dreamed of.

[kaeyas-beloved]

could i request a scenario with issac x an astronaut mc??

idk i think it’d be really cute and they could bond over their love of space together 🥰

Isaac x MC/Reader (You) || Ikemen Vampire

Warning(s): None (Maybe a little OOCness - I haven’t picked up IkeVamp in sometime)

Note: Oh I agree, it WOULD be cute <3 (now if only I could capture that cuteness....) 

I’d like to apologize for taking so long to do your request (as well as the other one that you sent in). Hopefully what I have written was worth the wait and I was able to fulfill your request! (If not then I’m sorry to disappoint)

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

My Lunar Lover

You’d made a singular comment, an off handed one at that, about how you’ve set foot on the moon back in your time. You and Isaac were out on a stargazing date set in the back of Le Comte’s mansion by the fountain, his arm wrapped around you and your body pulled flushed to him. The vampire in question had been talking about the phases of the moon; how could such a topic not remind you of the old life and occupation you’d left behind? Not that you regret doing so; you've never been happier than you are now with Isaac by your side.

Yet the confession you spoke in passing caused him to pull away from your shared embrace and go rigid as a board, almost like he’s preparing for a blow to the heart; he’s waiting for you to laugh and tell him you’re joking. You’re one of the only people who withheld from poking fun at him (or if you did it was clearly meant to be taken as a jest) so he wants to get his hopes up at your news, put trust in you, but simultaneously he doesn’t. Come on, mankind going into space? Walking on the moon? Preposterous! You have to be pulling his leg here!

Cherry blossom coloured eyes searched your own, scanning with a fine tooth comb for those telltale signs of teasing (signs he’d see almost on the daily with a certain troublesome duo) though he’d found none. It hit him in that instant that you were far from lying. 

A sort of switch flipped in your boyfriend - he went from skeptical, tense and guarded to showing you the smile he’d only let slip with you, less he got called out by a certain someone, with a spark in his expression. Only when he delved into something he was well informed in did he get like this, so to get the opportunity to hear about the wonders of modern day science, astrology and it’s huge advancements would of course fuel his curiosity greatly. 

You watched him quietly take in the realization. There was something about that twinkle in his eyes that reminded you of the shining stars above, painting him cute in your eyes. You kept that to yourself though. 

Isaac, in the heat of his excitement and desire for more information, grabbed a hold of your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze; he caught himself quickly though and let go, wondering if he’d just been a little too rough with his sudden grab. Aware of how he ticked, you made the move yourself and went for his hand, a silent way to let him know that it was alright. His palm was warm in your own, a pleasant sensation. Isaac’s smile widened just a fraction more, whether it was because you’re comforting him or he gets to hold your hand at all, who knows, maybe both. The first signs of a light blush growing on his pale cheeks,  his heart refusing to calm down and he uttered a simple question to you, hoping above all else that you’ll agree.

“Can you, perhaps… tell me more?” 

Already you had the answer in your mind - yes, of course - but you took a moment to study him and his expression. Every time he got like this, so passionate about one of his fields of study, a warm feeling grew in your chest. Seeing him so happy and in his comfort zone made you equally as happy - but the fact that it was about something you yourself loved as well? It’s heaven on earth to get to share an interest with someone close to you.

“Of course I’ll tell you more, anything you want to know I’ll answer the best I can.” He gave a final pause, leaving room for you to back out of his soon to be interrogation, but eased into his questions when he saw you weren't moving, something he’s thankful for. He’d take this thought to his grave, but Isaac felt overjoyed - dare he describe this feeling as giddy - at the idea of talking with his favorite person about a topic he loved. It was like he got to deepen the connection the both of you had and without fear of you becoming lost in his rapid fire ramblings.

As much as Isaac loves you, for the most part he questioned about the science behind it all (he did still try and squeeze in questions that were specific to you and your experience though). How did you get on the moon? What is it like up there? Why did you decide to take the trip? 

You explained to the best of your abilities all that you knew, many times fighting to hold in your laughs at the slight twitches and incredulous faces he tried to hide when you told him something particularly interesting, funny, or stupid that people say in the 21st century.

Slowly the Q&A naturally dwindled down and the two of you went back to looking at the stars, shifting the topic from the moon to going back and forth between each other as you pointed out constellations and groups of stars; telling about their stories and origins. The excitement never left either of you though, enthusiasm still seeped through in your actions and speech as you both pointed high into the inky night.

Your boyfriend's smile never left his face either, and you’re sure this is the longest that he’s ever had it on. It seems you’ve made a little world with just the two of you, a space where he didn’t have to restrain himself.

“Thank you…” Isaac whispered all of a sudden, turning away from the sky to face you, the light from the moon catching his eyes, making them dazzle in such a beautiful way.

“For what?”

“For indulging me in my interests and….” he hesitated for a moment, that adorable blush from earlier coming back, the pink hue barely visible in the dark but still possible to see if you stared enough, “... and for letting me know a little more about you.”

“We can do it again if you want, I’m sure I wasn’t able to cover everything I know,” you smiled, hoping he’d take the bait; anything to spend this kind of special time together again, a time that only two space loving lovers could share. 

Isaac, with a rush of confidence, scooted closer to you, coming to rest his forehead against yours.

“I’d… like that very much…” 

“Then it’s a date!” you laughed, placing a feather light peck on his free-for-the-taking lips. 

God, if only you knew how much Isaac loves you and all that you are. He couldn’t ask for someone more perfect for him than you. From personality to passions, you are the one for him. His lunar lover.

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

[Masterlist]

[m-y-fandoms]

Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Monster Hunter reader - Part 1 (Supernatural AU)

Request: Can I get some vampire Komaeda x reader? I loved the Kokichi one and Komaeda is my absolute fave :3 thanks <3

This will be a full series with multiple chapters, not a head-canon or short imagine. Nagito is my favorite Danganronpa character, even ahead of Kokichi.

Part 2 here

Also this will be set in the DR3 anime universe, when they are all just Ultimates at Hope’s Peak before the Tragedy

- Admin Kokichi

     “When are they coming out?!” You could hear a girl roar from the crowd before you. It was your first day at Hope’s Peak Academy, and already you could tell that at least some of the crazy rumors about the school’s eccentricities were true. You’d only been walking around campus, getting your bearings before you moved into the Main Course dorms later that evening.

     It was a bit odd to see a group of nearly a dozen girls from the Reserve Course waiting at the entrance to the Main Course building, waiting to watch some of the Ultimates walk to the cafeteria. I mean, being an Ultimate didn’t make one worth fan-girling over, right? But maybe you’d have seen their side of it if you weren’t an Ultimate yourself.

~

     Jin Kirigiri, the school’s headmaster, was a very close childhood friend of your father’s, as was the school’s recruiter, Koichi Kizakura. It was only natural that they both insisted you go there, especially with your talent. You were the Ultimate Hunter... or... that’s what your official transcripts said anyway. Your real talent was a little more… complicated to explain to a normal society.

     Your real and extended title was that of the Ultimate Monster Hunter, just like your father before you decades ago. That was your passion, your focus, but since you were also prodigious in the normal hunting of animals, that was the title Headmaster Kirigiri assigned you. Of course, Kizakura and Kirigiri knew of your family’s hunter lineage and the existence of supernatural beings, most of the higher-ups at Hopes Peak did, what with all the connections and respect the academy had garnered.

     Most governments, large corporations and upper-class citizens were privy to the existence of monsters, and those sworn to protect all humans from them, so of course Kirigiri knew of such things, however, he couldn’t exactly have you honing your skills in his classrooms and training yards. The general public would either think he’d gone mad for allowing such activities - training to kill beings that did not exist - or worse, they’d wise up and take notice, revealing the secret of supernatural creatures to the world.

     No, no, that couldn’t be allowed to happen, and so Kizakura and Kirigiri had you practicing your crossbow aim on animal-shaped dummies, had you doing general agility and reflex training. Your firearms were used in a high-tech shooting arena that doubled as a dojo when martial arts students arrived for their allotted lesson time.

     Honestly, you didn’t even want to attend Hope’s Peak, seeing as Headmaster Kirigiri had made it very clear that you couldn’t use any of your true talent anywhere on campus or even while in uniform off-campus. You also had to hide your face with a helmet or mask of some type while hunting from now on. You couldn’t be associated with or traced back to the academy in any way, should someone see you engaged with a monster and spread word of it before being apprehended by law enforcement. This rule was only made more severe by the fact that some of your fellow students were of the very species you made a living annihilating.

     That’s right, Hope’s Peak itself was host to the very rare vampire, werewolf, demon, shapeshifter or other manner of beast. Not all of them chose to be hostile or stuck out like a sore thumb, and hey, if you had the talent, you had the talent. It made you question why you should even give the academy a second thought. It felt like they were mocking you, letting inhuman creatures attend a school they personally invited you to, but your father all but forced you to enroll. He insisted it would be the best for your future, and that there’s no one he trusted more than Kirigiri and Kizakura.

     “But if anything… anything at all happens to (Y/N), Jin, I swear on our friendship, I will handle it myself,” he’d said. Your father’s words rung through your mind like a constant reminder. He meant it, too. Your father was the hunter of all hunters, a king of sorts in his circle. Kirigiri knew very well that letting him down was not an option.

~ 

     You stood on the very edge of the group, as far from the doors as possible but still near enough to the others that you wouldn’t look like some weird loner. You sighed, chuckling under your breath at their chittering. It was all so silly.

     “Here they come!” You were startled out of your trance when one out of the whole gaggle of girls before you squealed loudly. You walked toward the front of their group, fascinated by how excited they all were. You were merely curious to see what all the fuss was about. How could they possibly be this worked up about other students their age, just walking to lunch after class? Then again, you hadn’t met any of your fellow Ultimates. Was there some kind of beauty requirement to become one? Huh, wouldn’t surprise me, you thought rather cynically to yourself. This place loves to flaunt its students and reputation.

     “Look~ it’s Fuyuhiko!” One of the girls pushed roughly past you, grazing your shoulder. You could practically see hearts in her eyes as she passed.

     “Jeez, okay...” you muttered sheepishly and leaned back again. You may be a monster killer, but that only worked out because of the adrenaline rush and the lack of attachment and value placed on your targets. In normal life and social situations, it felt like you were the one being killed.

     Great! Now I can’t see anything! You mentally snapped at the fan-girls bumping and shuffling into you with every sporadic movement they made. You couldn't see anything, but you could certainly hear the girls get louder and louder by the second. You were now completely pushed to the side of the group as the girls grunted and hissed like rabid animals.

     “And that’s the lucky one! Komaeda, I think! Man, he’s so hot…” A random brunette drooled. 

Nagito Komaeda: Vampire

Status: Protected/Neutral

Classification: B

Unique Talents and Powers: A cycle of good and bad luck. All other unique traits under review.

Age: Unknown

Coven or Clan: None

     You mechanically recalled little bits and details from your dad’s casework and journals on the most famous vampires in the country. Nagito... yes… you were going to stay away from this one.

     The supernatural beings that could pass as human and were deemed not to be a danger to society signed contracts and treaties that allowed them to live out their lives like normal and protected them legally from hunters (much to your kind’s chagrin). They had strict rules to follow, however, and those who broke said rules were prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law and taken off the protection list, making them fair game to hunters. 

     You really didn’t understand why they kept giving the feral savages chances. Erasing the memories of witnesses, victims (if they survived), and their families after each attack or incident was costly and just unfair to mankind.

     The girls continued to shout and vie for the boys’ attention. Fuyuhiko huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the fuss they were making. This only served to rile them up further, however. It seemed the tough, flippant, bad-boy yakuza persona is exactly what they wanted. They loved the way he gave them the cold shoulder.

     Nagito, on the other hand, was a different case entirely. He didn’t just ignore the girls, he made an obvious show of his disgust for them. He was practically snarling, nose scrunched up as he leaned away from the crowd of them. It wasn’t annoyance at their mewling and squawking, it was something far different. Something like pure revulsion mixed with condescension. But why? It didn’t really matter, as the girls clearly didn’t pick up on his cues, shooting rapid-fire questions his way and reaching out for his sleeves. You scoffed. It was so shallow of them to only like him for his looks and title of Ultimate he held. They knew nothing about him. 

     What he could do to them if they got them alone. How him could kill them in an instant, and even possibly enjoy that kill.

     While you were lost in the abhorrence of your thoughts, Nagito’s eyes had honed in on you, noticed that you were wearing the same uniform as him, and promptly glided over in front of you.

     “Why, hello there!” Komaeda stopped right in front of you. You took a startled step back, but he grasped your hand, preventing you from moving any further away. You did everything you could to repress your fear and repugnance, but your hand still shook slightly in his cold, dead one, and you were sure he could tell. He giggled, obviously enamored with your very presence. “I don’t believe I've seen you before, but you must be in the Main Course as well! What’s your name, if I might ask? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna...” Nagito grinned widely, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. The girls swooned beside you. It seemed you were the only one afraid of what those teeth could do. He was deceivingly beautiful on the outside: tall, pale, doe-eyed, and dangerous. His Class B ranking put him just below the most dangerous of vampires, the elite, the royal clans.

     “(Y-Y/N). It’s my first day.” Your voice shook as you jerked your hand away roughly. It was hard to feel confident without your weapons on you, knowing there was nothing you could do to defend yourself here. Damn you, Kirigiri.

      Your father would be enraged if he knew you had just touched a vampire’s hand so casually. Nagito frowned slightly. He could sense it, the way you didn't trust him, the way you didn't like him down deep inside. He knew you knew something you shouldn't, knew more than the other humans attending Hope’s Peak, and he didn't like it. His brow furrowed in a display of frustration, but that quickly melted away, and he smiled kindly, eyes crinkling at the corners. He would figure out what made you special, even among the Ultimates he revered so passionately. Something was off, and it would kill him if he didn’t figure out why.

     “Well, (Y/N)” He leaned down to your height, his face inches from yours, breathing deeply. Almost as soon as he’d inhaled, he snapped back up, his spine stiff and straight. “Oh!” A look of almost painful surprise and confusion crossed his countenance.

     “What?” You panicked, looking him up and down.

     “Oh, uh, nothing… you smell really good, heh. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. That’s weird, huh? Wow, I’m really the worst...” he chuckled awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a display of innocence. Your mouth hung open, appalled. How could he be so bold about his nature in public? You knew exactly what he was smelling. The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood up in fear and vexation. Your reaction told him all he needed to know, and in that instant, he decided he wanted to know more. Nagito was the obsessive type, and you were going to be his new fixation. Why did you know? Who told you of his... condition? “Anyway, welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy. I hope I have the honor of seeing you again.” You could hear the wave of extreme jealousy behind you. The heat of anger and envy for you was thick in the air.

     “Enough, Komaeda, ya big creep…” the small but feisty boy cleared his throat before continuing.  “C’mon, if you wanna have time for lunch it’s now or never!” You sighed in relief. Fuyuhiko placed his hand on Nagito's shoulder, pulling him gently away from you. 

     “Sorry, sorry!” Nagito offered a warm smile to his shorter friend. “I’m coming! I apologize, Fuyuhiko” He turned to you,“See you in class, (Y/N)” He simpered, and continued to trail along behind his friend.

     Not if you had anything to say about it…

     You were going to avoid that boy like the plague. Just because you couldn’t kill him, doesn’t mean you had to be best friends.

[apheamoon]

you should acc do the thanos one - idk why i wanna read it oahah

Okay Anna, I blame you for this monstrosity that I have written, and I apologise in advance😔

-

Inevitable - Thanos x Reader

Warnings: Based loosely on the events that happen in Infinity War, mentions of death

Word Count: 1,095 words

To Thanos, ending half of all existence was the one thing in the world that he was genuinely excited to wake up and get to work on in the morning. Although the Titan held a gruff and cold set of mind, he cared deeply for those he kept close to him. He was hard on his army, but was relieved when they came back to the ship with a win, or news on the whereabouts of an infinity stone. As well as being hard on his army, the crazed-warrior also held a cold demeanour towards his family. Nebula, for example, was the one who got the best of it. You had never agreed with Thanos’ methods towards his younger daughter, but always kept that to yourself.

You would think that Thanos was unable to find love. Proper love at that, as well. But, underneath his hard shell and malevolent attitude towards most of mankind was a softer side to him. This was a side that he showed to both you and his eldest, Gamora. But Gamora had abandoned the Sanctuary a long time ago. As did Nebula. This meant that only you and the mad titan lived together on the ship, but it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. In fact, it was quite nice to share a living space with him.

Often, Thanos would talk with you about his plans for the aftermath of the snap. He told you that he had found a planet, named The Garden. Once he had accomplished his main mission (ie: the snap), he spoke fondly of taking you over to his safe place. Deep down, he was genuinely ready to relax on a planet, with a farm and a hut - most of the wars would be far behind the two of you, and finally you’d be able to rest.

“What happens if you don’t succeed?” You remember asking him wearily one night, a hint of fear in your tone.

You would think that Thanos would have been offended by your questioning, but instead he simply shook his head and gestured over towards the Gauntlet, which was nearly completed.

“I will succeed, y/n,” he had told you, sternly, yet with hope, “You just need to trust me.”

You remember looking over to him and nodding. You did trust him. In fact, you trusted the Titan with all your heart.

So when he was about to leave the ship for the final battle on Wakanda, you weren’t telling him to change his mind. Instead, you were nodding at him with eagerness, and wishing that he would come back safe and unhurt. You knew he was strong - The Avengers and their mis-matched crew of misfits were no match for Thanos and his gauntlet.

As planned, the Mad Titan’s mission went smoothly. Of course, he had to kill people for the stones, including his own daughter, Gamora. But that couldn’t be helped - she was only a small sacrifice that would benefit mankind for the better. He also had to kill a red robot of some kind for the precious Mind Stone he needed to complete his collection, though that damned Scarlet Witch got in the way of his scheming and ruthlessly caught him off guard. Luckily, he had the Time Stone at hand, and he was easily able to rewind the clock and grasp the stone from Vision’s head before anymore damage to his plan had to be done. It killed the robot instantly, and the witch? She went ballistic, screaming suddenly at the sight of his death. Shooting a blast of her magic over towards Thanos, the Titan merely smirked as he easily pushed his hand to the side, deflecting the hit and sending the witch soaring.

The Mind Stone connected with the Gauntlet like a moth being drawn to a flame, completed the set of stones in an instant. The amount of power that suddenly journeyed through his body and veins was seemingly too much, and the mad Titan threw his head back and let out a hollowing roar. He had come this far, after being told by many that it was impossible, and finally he was so close to achieving his main goal and to finally live in contentment with you.

As his eyes finally set on the completed Gauntlet, he heard the rumbling of thunder and an axe was storming towards him through the sky. Lifting his arm up, Thanos tried to deflect the axe with help from the power of the stones, however he failed and it landed in the middle of his chest. Groaning, he stepped back and looked over towards a blonde man who was sparking with blue lightning.

“I told you,” The Lightning God said lowly, grabbing Thanos by the neck and glaring into his eyes, “You’d die for that.”

As if on queue, Thor began to push his stormbreaker into the mad titans chest, making him shout out in pain. Thanos was heaving heavily, readying himself for the worse, when he felt the God stop. Sucking in another breath, he took this as his moment to snap, and lifted his hand up.

“You...” He muttered, his voice coarse and tired, “You should have gone for the head-“

And with that final sentence, Thanos snapped his fingers, and a flash of bright light filled the area. Thor pulled back suddenly, a shout of horror escaping his lips, but when the light cleared, he found that Thanos had escaped from the area.

Walking back onto the Sanctuary, Thanos was filled with self-pride and was ready to share the news of the snap with you. Removing the gauntlet from his hand, he placed it on the nightstand in the master bedroom of his ship and grumbled at his reflection in the mirror. He was battered, bruised and muddy, but, to him, non of that mattered.

Clearing his throat, he journeyed through the ship and walked towards the flight deck where he had left you only moments before.

“Y/n, it is completed my-“ Thanos started, but froze when he saw the ship empty. It was eerie and silent, and for the first time in his life Thanos felt his heart pang at the mere sight of what he had just walked into.

Your remains. They were there, on the floor and dusting through the sky gently. But you weren’t there anymore - not properly anyway. Because Thanos had done the one thing he had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t do.

And he had snapped you. Straight out of existence.

[sams-sass]

Fate

Hi! It was really rainy here today and I thought of this. Hope you guys like it. Thanks for all the love and support! 

Summary: You and Sam find each other. 

Pairings: Sam x Soulmate!Reader 

Warnings: Fluff

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

The air was thick with moisture that night. The black clouds were rolling in from the mountains with their heavy and ominous presence. It was strange because there was no call for rain that day. No weather station could find this massive storm that had descended upon an unsuspecting town. All day had been clear skies and warm breezes. Then suddenly the temperature dropped about ten degrees in a matter of seconds and the storm came. Sam looked out the motel room window, checking the weather once again. It had just started to drizzle, the droplets staining the asphalt in the parking lot. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by a loud clash of thunder. Sam smiled to himself, he had always enjoyed rain, especially thunderstorms. There was something about the way nature could create something so violent yet cleansing at the same time that fascinated him. He was beginning to feel the hole in his chest again. In times of peace he felt more alone than ever. When he would wake to an empty space in the bed next to him, it sent chills up his spine. He knew he needed something that he didn’t have, that he had never had. He knew that something out there was calling for him. He could hear it in the wind. See it in the dancing shadows of the moonlight. He could feel the earth trying to lead him to something. Only, he had no idea what.  

He saw the lightning through the window, the charge of it lighting up the whole room. He looked outside and that’s when he saw you. You were standing in the parking lot, just staring it him. You were completely soaked, your wet clothes sticking to you as you continued to stare directly at Sam.  

Sam knew. He knew within his heart that you were there for him.  

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

You were standing in your living room, feeling the silence around you. In times when the world was calm and the stillness echoed in your mind, you felt it. You felt the pull towards something else. There was a chronic ache that you felt, like you were meant for so much more than the life you were leading. In the darkness of night, when all others were resting in deep slumber was when your mind awakened. You could hear the moon whisper your name and the moon seemed to howl back to you. You felt out of place in your own life. You knew the world could offer you so much more, but you didn’t know how to stand up and grab it. You often felt frozen and stuck in your life, repeating the same thing over and over again. You placed a hand against the window and continued to stare into your yard. Your heart rate suddenly picked up and your breathing became labored.  

Walk. A voice inside your head echoed.  

Go. Your feet seemed to move on their own accord. You walked out of your house, not even sure if you closed your door. The air changed around you, growing thick and heavy. You licked your lips and pressed on.

Right. The voice said when you came to a corner. You turned and continued walking. Everything in your overactive mind said this was wrong, but you couldn’t stop. You knew deep in your gut that this was what needed to happen. You had to find your destination, whatever you were walking towards became the only thing you cared about. Your legs took you there without your mind even becoming accustomed to your surroundings.  

Here. It said to you. You looked up and saw you were at the old motel outside town, you had walked about 5 miles. A tingle ran down your spine and you knew everything you ever needed was inside that motel. You stepped into the parking lot and the rain started. Falling in heavy and large droplets, hitting the crown of your head first. The thunder and lightning cracked around you, opening the sky and illuminating everything around you. You looked in one of the windows and saw him. He was tall with long brown hair. His hazel eyes looked around for a moment before they landed on you. Right then and there, in the middle of the parking lot, you fell. You fell hard and fast. You didn’t know him, but you loved him. You needed him. The instant his eyes connected with yours, everything in the world made sense. You had found everything you could ever want or need in this complete stranger.

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

“What are you looking at?” Dean asked from behind Sam. “Man, it’s getting crazy out there.”  

Sam didn’t answer, he just kept staring at you. You were slowing moving forward, the rain continuing to hammer around you.  

“Who is that? She’s hot.” Dean’s mouth turned up, looking you over. 

Go. A voice inside his head whispered. Sam moved and walked out the door and into the pouring rain. You looked at him with wide and searching eyes.  

“Sam.” He said, raindrops falling off his pink lips. It was perfect for him. The name seemed to complete him, like you had already known it before he even said it.

“Y/N.” You said, your heart was racing. Your skin was begging you to touch him. Almost as if he read your mind, he held his hand up to you. Your fingertips traced his palm, electric shocks shooting through you. The storm worsened around you, lightning shooting off in different directions. The thunder was so loud it was almost deafening. His other hand came up to cup your cheek, pulling you to him. His lips touched yours and everything you knew fell into shambles around you. This was all you would ever know now; his love would be everything you could ever ask for. For the first time in your life you felt completely full. Satisfied. As his tongue explored your mouth, you felt the warmth spread throughout you. A fire started in your chest, the flames licking throughout your whole body. The wind whipped around you dramatically. You had found him and he you. This was it. In that moment you found everything you had ever been missing. Your whole life had led you up to this point, to meet him. To feel him. To surround yourself in everything that was Sam.

Sam couldn’t get enough of you. The way you tasted like honey. The way your skin felt against his, wet and hot. The feeling of your breath filling his lungs just as it was yours. You were perfect and Sam couldn’t stop, not now. The moment he touched you he had felt everything he had ever needed. You were his saving grace, his missing piece.  

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

You were standing next to Sam, Dean on the other side of you. Your fingers were nervously fidgeting with the hem on your jacket. Cas said the enochian words and you all silently waited. The sound of wings fluttered around you and then he was there. He was completely naked and had a wide smile across his face.  

“Hello!” He greeted the four of you, stepping forward with his arms stretched wide. All of your eyes widened and you shook your heads violently. He grabbed Cas first, picking him up into his embrace. Then he moved to Dean and you stifled a laugh against your better judgement. Your smile fell almost immediately when he came for you next.  

“No. No. No.” You mumbled, backing away slowly.  

“Yes.” He said, wrapping you into his arms. Your face pressed against his body and you internally cringed from the feel of him. You could feel the waves of anger coming off of Sam, he was furious. You wiggled against the cupid and felt him release you, allowing you to take a breath into your lungs. He stretched his arms out, keeping his hands on your shoulders.  

“Oh, Y/N, you are even more beautiful than the scriptures said.”  

“The scriptures?” You asked, your face scrunching in confusion. He only smiled at you and let his arms fall back to his sides. He then moved to Sam, his arms lifting the giant off his feet. He put Sam down and turned to face all of you again. 

“Why did you summon me, brother?” He asked Cas.  

“Have you marked Sam and Y/N?” Cas asked, his eyebrows together on his forehead.  

“What? No, I don’t need to mark them. They have already been marked.” He was gleeful in his response.  

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, stepping forward.  

“You and Y/N have been marked since the beginning of mankind. You were always meant to find each other, you’re the deepest and oldest level of soul mates.” He explained, a confused look on his face as if he thought you would already know this. You looked at Sam and he looked at you. Although this sounded absolutely insane, there was something deep inside you telling you it was true.  

“Why?” You said, your voice small.  

“The good you will bring to the world is necessary. You were hand selected to be together, the two of you will bring peace to earth.” Your eyebrows knitted together on your forehead.  

“What now?” Dean asked next to you, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.  

“Me? And this guy?” You pointed to yourself and then to Sam, looking over at him. He was staring at you with the same confused expression.  

“How?” Sam asked, his shoulders squaring.  

“Oh, not even I know that.” Cupid laughed. “The message is clear; peace will be restored by Sam Winchester and Y/N Y/L/N.”  

“Why did I not know about this? Why did no one know about this?” Cas asked.  

“God demanded that it remain between the cherub angels.” Cupid insisted, nodding his head dramatically.  

How could this be? You knew you needed Sam in your life. You knew that he meant more to you and that you loved him more than you had ever loved anything, but this? Soulmates that would bring about peace on earth?  

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

You were sitting on your motel room bed, your legs crossed underneath you. Sam was next to you, his hands wrapped around a book of scriptures. He shook his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes.  

“I can't believe it. It says it right here.” He mumbled, turning the book so you could see too.  

And in the days of new the soulmates will arise. She will be of unspeakable and unattainable beauty equally on the inside as well as the out. He will be of unmeasurable strength within his heart of hearts. They will restore peace to humanity through their undying love. Their souls will be together in the kingdom of heaven until the end of time. People will rejoice in their name; their names will be sung around the world. The bringers of harmony and love.  

“Wow, and men say women are dramatic.” You giggled against Sam’s shoulder. He chuckled and turned his head to kiss your forehead.  

“I wonder why God kept it a secret.” Sam thought out loud.  

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “How do you think we do it?” You asked him sitting up slightly and looking him directly in the eyes.  

“I wish I knew, I guess when the time comes it will just happen.” His hand covered yours.  

“You can’t fight fate.” You leaned forward.  

“Why would I want to? It brought me you.” His fingers touched your temple and then made their way into your hair. He pulled you to him and soon enough you were once again completely lost in him.  

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

The years ticked by and the words that cupid had spoken that night rang true more than once. You and Sam conquered more than your fair share of cases. The two of you defeated the leviathan, figured out how to kill them. You took on the trials and almost completed them. You helped Dean through the mark of Cain and helped cure him from being a demon. None of it compared to your greatest accomplishment. None of it mattered once you two took on God and won. You were the ones who brought peace to the world. God had demanded that your love remain a secret from everyone because he knew he would be your finally. He knew that you and Sam would be the bringers of peace, he just didn’t know how. If he had known that by killing him you would inevitably save the world, he probably wouldn’t have let it happen. Your entire lives lead you to the point of fulfilling your destiny. The destiny written for you by God himself.  

It was the two of you through everything. The love between you never died, you were his and he was yours. Completely. You were home in his arms and he found his safety in yours. Even when father time came for the both of you, there was still the never-ending symphony of your love. The melody sang your story, all the good you gave the world. Your song never died. It was heard around the world. The two of you lived immortally through your story.  

[realityhelixcreates]

The Mystic Garden: Sowing

Chapters: 1/5

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG

Warnings: death

Characters: Loki(Marvel) 

Additional Tags:  Infinity War Doesn’t Exist, Everybody Lives, Mutants Exist In The MCU, The Reparations Of Loki Of Asgard

Summary:   Despite S.H.I.E.L.D. becoming a smaller and more selective organization, Loki still finds himself assigned to them upon Asgard's arrival on Earth. Required to perform a kind of specialized community service, Loki is paired up with another outcast, of a kind he is not familiar with: A mutant named Iris.

Loki of Asgard was a very beautiful man.

Loki of Asgard was a very powerful man.

Loki of Asgard was a very dangerous man.

And that was about all that anyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. could agree on about Loki of Asgard.

To some, he was an asshole. To others, perfectly charming. To yet more, he was polite, but distant. Funny. Serious. Sarcastic. Aloof. Morbid. Morose. Intimidating. Shy. Threatening. Angry. Flirty. Each person Iris asked described him in a different way.

To Iris, he was a looming presence, staring her down with searing intensity. Her shiny, brand new partner. Joy.

“So you're the unfortunate one.” He grumbled. “Winner of the worst lottery this organization has ever thrown.”

“I'm Iris Devereaux.” She said, holding out her hand. “Pleased to finally meet you.”

He glanced at her hand with a sneer. “No you aren't.”

“Beg pardon?”

“No one is pleased to meet me.”

“Oh. Well. Here's the thing: you don't decide that for me.”

He raised one perfect eyebrow, tilting his head back.

“I don't tolerate men telling me what I do and don't think or feel. Only I can know that. Now, you gonna shake my hand or not, Mister 'of Asgard'?”

Loki harrumphed. “As you demand, Miss 'of the Riverbank'.”

“What?” Iris took his hand and gave it a firm shake. He allowed it, but drew his hand back the instant she released it.

“Your surname. It means 'riverbank'. Didn't you know? Named after a goddess, and yet you seem to have lived humbly.”

“I'm named after a flower.” Iris corrected.

“The flower was named after the goddess.” He re-corrected. “The personification of the rainbow, a messenger of the gods. She who waters the clouds with her ocean-filled pitcher, flying on glowing, golden wings to carry the pleas of mankind to the gods they prayed to. As she connected the sea and the sky, her rainbows connected mankind to the gods. Just as our Bifrost connected Asgard to Midgard with the beauty and magnificence of the rainbow.”

“Oh, please.” Another agent groaned from their nearby work station. Loki glared.

“Well, that's...informative.” Iris said. Was this what Loki was like? Standoffish, unless given something to talk about? He was certainly well-spoken. “I'm pretty sure my parents just had the flower in mind though.”

“A delicate goddess, an ephemeral rainbow, or a nodding blossom on the riverbank: it all paints a pretty picture, does it not?” He asked.

Iris narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

“I wonder.” Loki said.

“Will you two just go get some coffee or something?” the other agent snapped. “I've got to finish this by ten hundred.”

“Fine, jeez, keep your vest on.” Iris said. Loki glared once again. “C'mon, there's a thousand break rooms on this old boat. We can take one over for ourselves.”

   *****

“Who was that cur?” Loki demanded as Iris programmed the coffee machine for two cups. “Who does he think he is talking to? I am still a prince of Asgard, and a god! No pencil-pushing desk monkey speaks to me that way!”

“Hey, cool your chops.” Iris said, getting the mugs. “The pencil-pushing desk monkeys keep this whole show running. Who do you think runs this boat? Where does our intel come from? Who finds out if it's any good or not? Who does the budgets, communication, tech, cleanup, triage, programming, and supplies? The heroes get the fame, sure, but we're ultimately expendable. These guys own this shindig. Do you like caramel?”

“I...might?” He said, and Iris added a squirt of syrup to each steaming mug, then handed him his. “And you might be expendable, but I most certainly am not.”

“Cheers, bro. I'll drink to that.” Iris raised her mug in his direction and took a long gulp of fresh, caramel coffee. Oh boy, this was gonna be fun.

Loki seemed perplexed, either by the flavor of the coffee, or her casual acceptance of his declaration.

“Not that it will come to that.” He backtracked. “As my partner, you will have the advantage of my protection.”

“Joy. So, your highness, what's landed you here? You aren't exactly known as a friend to mankind. Why join S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

He harrumphed as Iris took another long pull from her mug. “You say 'join' as if I was given a choice. This is penance, nothing more. It was decided when Asgard had to relocate here, that I would work for a 'humanitarian' organization. Save lives equal to those whose deaths I was responsible for. Work towards paying off the cost it took to rebuild. And so I perform the Reparations of Loki of Asgard, defending this realm from itself. Once I have accomplished this, I will leave.”

“Mhm. And how far have you gotten?”

“It's only been a few months.” He huffed. “So not nearly as far as I'd like. How did they lure you in?”

Iris shrugged. “Job's a job. This one is steady, has good benefits, and it certainly keeps me engaged. It's no daily grind, that's for sure.”

“But with your power, could you not be a leader of some sort, rather than in a subservient 'expendable' position?”

“Ah. You've read my file.”

“Of course I did. As I assume you've read mine. Prying things. Why do they need so many personal details? But yes. It mentioned that you have an unusual power, beyond others of your type? Why are you not in charge?”

“Hoo boy.” Iris took a seat across from him. “You don't know much about human social structure, do you?”

Loki frowned. “It was never supposed to matter.”

“Well, it matters now. And it's mattered to me my whole life, because I can't just run off home to fairy tale land, so it looks like we both have no choice but to deal with it. You know what a mutant is?”

“I know what the word means, but I don't know how it applies to you.” Loki said, perplexed. “You look like any other human to me, so I assume it is something internal?”

Now it was Iris' turn to harrumph. “Well, you look like any other Asgardian to me, so I guess we've both got something going on under our skin, don't we? Tell you what: you explain to me what a 'frost giant' is, and I'll explain what a 'mutant' is in this context.”

“And if I refuse?” Loki sneered.

“Then I do too.” Iris said simply.

Loki stared at her across the table, the intensity of his gaze as hot as the coffee, and Iris tried her best to pretend to be unaffected by it. It wasn't that he wasn't intimidating, but an unfortunate lifetime of bigotry and constant background danger had given her a skin as thick as wood. Well, her mutation had done that as well.

“I can do this all day.” He warned.

“Alright.” Iris shrugged.

A few very awkward minutes passed, a silence spent sipping coffee, until her supervisor, Chris Timmitz, interrupted.

“Iris! Loki. There you are! I've been looking for you two. Lucky to find you in the same place, you've got a job coming up.”

“Oh yeah? Lay it on me boss.” Iris said. Loki grimaced.

“We think we've got another possible HYDRA shelter, kinda out in the open this time. We need more intel. That's where you come in.”

“It's located next to a forest, isn't it?”

“A meadow, actually.” He said a bit sheepishly. “We need you to, uh, plant some bugs on the property.”

“Ha ha.” Iris said flat-voiced.

“Aw c'mon, I didn't come up with the terminology.”

“Was that some kind of insult?” Loki asked darkly. “Do you degrade your employees?”

“Well, it wasn't meant to be.” Chris explained. “It's not my fault the language is what it is. And what about you? Iris may act tough, but she's really sweet and sensitive, so you'd better act right-”

“Or what?” Loki challenged.

“Chris. Cut it out. We don't have to be chummy, we just have to get the job done.” Iris said. “So give us the details.”

“Right, right. We're starting Tuesday. It seems to be when the fewest people are there...”

                ****

Iris crawled through the tall grass of the meadow, the plants moving naturally around her, so as to not alert her enemies that she was there. The shelter was an old schoolhouse apparently, that HYDRA agents had taken over, ostensibly to restore the historical building and turn it into a museum...all the while sheltering their agents from the law, and pushing revisionist history in an effort to spread their doctrine through yet another small town. They had done this so many times before, changing the narrative, changing the perceptions of the people.

HYDRA had many heads. It was the symbolism of the thing. Some of those heads infiltrated governments, and worked to influence world policy. Other heads overran small towns, influencing the vote, which served to make the jobs of the others easier.

Some people in S.H.I.E.L.D. likened them to a virus to be quarantined, cut out, and destroyed. Iris saw them as a sickness to be cured. Anyone could change their minds, given reason. The trick was to find the reason. That wasn't her job, and she didn't think she'd be good at it, but she knew that there were anti-radicalization support groups popping up here and there now, and no wonder, with the state of the current administration. Iris knew HYDRA must have gotten their voice very well entrenched into the government.

But Iris was more directly concerned with these little heads, with blocking their progress, slowing them down, and just generally inconveniencing them.

She'd gotten the usual stares and glares, upon entering the little town, but it was hard to tell if it was HYDRAs influence, or just typical American small town prejudice when faced with a dark-skinned stranger. Either way, she wouldn't want to live here.

She settled down in the grass, stretched out on her belly, and the sod began to part beneath her. Loki, who had simply made himself invisible with his alien magics, and crept along beside her, was clearly capable of sneaking with the best of them. He barely displaced a blade of grass. He crouched down beside her.

“We are stopping here?” He whispered. “How shall you place your devices? Will you throw them?”

“No, My aim isn't that good.” Iris said, ignoring his smug “Mine is.”, and beginning to sink into the newly exposed soil.

“Uh...Miss Devereaux...are you aware that the earth appears to be swallowing you?”

“Don't worry about it, it's fine.” She wriggled her feet out of her flimsy sandals and into the dirt. She was positioned to just be able to see the old schoolhouse over the edge of the trough that had been excavated beneath her. That was all she needed.

“Certainly. Nothing out of the ordinary here.”

“You're one to talk. Hand me the bugs.”

There were only three of them: tiny things, no larger than the creatures they were named after. Iris took them, then tore a packet of seeds open with her teeth, pouring the contents into her hands.

“This is going to take me a pretty long time. Couple of days, probably. What I'm going to need the most from you is tending. Every hour, give me something to drink. Every four hours, give me something to eat. Make sure no one sweeps through here with a lawn mower or a fire. I'm not going to be able to move, and will likely be in something of a trance. Sorry I won't be better company.”

“That's a lot of orders coming from one little human.” Loki grumbled.

“My life is in your hands.”

“That's...a bit better.”

She pressed her hand against the earth in front of her, and concentrated.

For some minutes it didn't appear to Loki that anything was happening at all. Then the first of the thin, white roots began squirming out from between her fingers, roping around her hand.

Loki stretched out in the tall grass next to her as the roots slowly formed a ragged, grasping ball of pale worms against her chestnut skin. He remained silent for hours alongside her, dutifully holding a small bottle of water to her lips every hour or so. As she had said earlier, Iris lay very still, and very trance-like, drinking without acknowledging that she even knew he was there.

“Hmmm.” He whispered. “I hate being ignored, you know. I wonder if you can even hear me? Could you explain what it is that you are doing, or are you so far away that you cannot even answer? What would happen if I touched you right now, Goddess-Flower of the Riverbank? Would I break your concentration? Would you even notice?”

He opened one of the little ration packs, half of which were specifically labeled with Iris' name. Within were little brown cubes that smelled deeply unappetizing to Loki, formed from a slurry of many mysterious ingredients.

“A special recipe, just for you? S.H.I.E.L.D. must value you more highly than you have previously stated. Here you go, Bright Blossom.” He held the little cube to Iris' lips, which parted automatically to accept the cube. “And so I have become no more than a nutrient dispensary. How far I have fallen.”

He fed her the cubes, one by one. Every brush of her petal-velvet lips against his fingers tempted him to push them into her mouth, a temptation that brought a chuckle to his own lips. There were only so many games he would be allowed to play, before S.H.I.E.L.D. kicked him out entirely. He wasn't attached to S.H.I.E.L.D., or anyone within the organization, but working for them kept him active, kept him relevant, kept him engaged, and most importantly, kept him out of prison. Community service was infuriating, but he had experienced the soul-crushing torment of solitary confinement, and this was much preferable.

A cold, uncomfortable cell? Or laying in the grass on a warm, sunny day, hand-feeding a pretty girl?

He was very tempted to lay his hand on the small of her back, where her uniform had ridden up just enough to show a strip of glistening skin, but it wouldn't have the proper punch with Iris in this deep trance. Without reaction, there was no fun.

The roots winding their way up her arms were somewhat unsettling. Was this what her file had meant when it noted that she was a 'mutant'? That she could cause plants to sprout? Could other humans do that?

Hours later, when the sun had set, and the roots had wriggled into the soil all around her, and crawled their way up to her shoulders, Iris stirred.

“Mph. Man, I'm sore.” She complained.

“Ah, welcome back. There is a powerful desire I need you to fulfill.”

“Not on company time. There's trees over there, go behind them and, uh, work it out? Also, for next time, I really don't need to know.”

“You flatter yourself, or you underestimate me. What I want, is for you to explain what you are doing. Are you making those plants grow?”

“Oh. Yeah, basically. You read my file; you know I'm a mutant.”

“Yes, but I do not know the significance of the term.” Loki admitted. “Is it this? This magic you wield?”

“It's not magic, it's just...it's genetic. I was born this way. At first it was just little things. Gardens grew better wherever I went, I didn't get hungry as much when there was sunlight, I didn't need to drink as much as long as there was water on the ground. I grew up in a way rural community tucked away in the Everglades. We were real poor, so being outside and having wet and muddy feet was just normal for all the kids.

As I got older, the signs got more obvious. I can do things that plants can do. I can direct their growth, and I sorta...change with the seasons, depending on where I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eh, stick around long enough and you'll see. Anyway, people aren't too fond of mutants, and it got...tough. To live at home, I mean. So I went out into the wild, and I did pretty well there, but S.H.I.E.L.D. found me and offered me something else. Not every mutant is like me. There's a lot of different ways to be a mutant, it's unpredictable. Some folks can fly, others can turn their bodies into metal, and some can heal wounds to their body in seconds. I manipulate plants, and am, in some ways, like them.”

“I see. And you are causing these plants to grow for what purpose?”

“Spying purposes. It's gonna take a few days, but these vines will tunnel through the ground, all the way up to the school house. When they break ground, I'll send one of them up that tree there, another one around the frame of that window there, and the third down the chimney. You saw those little devices? They're holding those in packets of leaves, and will position them so that they remain hidden, but they consist of audio, video, and heat signature recorders. Once I've gotten them in place, we'll leave. That's all this mission is; bugs on plants.”

“Then why am I here?” He wondered. “You seem to have this well in hand.”

“Someone's gotta feed me. And make sure I don't get found out. There's rumors you can make magic illusions. That's probably why. You can hide us both from any eyes or cameras.”

“And I have.” Loki said proudly. “And fed and...watered you, Little Blossom. What else do you need from me?”

“To do it all again tomorrow.” Iris said. Then she dropped her head into the nest of roots, and settled down to sleep.

                                                                         *****

Iris was awake and in her trance just as the first light of dawn kissed the horizon. Loki had been awake even before that, every swish of grass or crackle of leaves grabbing his attention.

“Rest.” He commanded her. “I have not the need of it that you do. Never forget: I am no weak mortal. You require a large amount of sleep, but I am all the greater.”

Iris had snorted at the bravado, but accepted the cubes he fed her, and fell into her trance, the roots curling further and further around her body.

Loki idly wondered how far the roots would go. Would they cocoon Iris entirely, prompting her to 'hatch' into a new form? Would they drag her down into the earth, entombing her away from Loki forever? Or would they just die back?

He watched people come and go to the old schoolhouse, working on its restoration. They looked for all the world like normal workers; he didn't even believe any of them to be armed. Not all HYDRA agents were combatants, after all. Just as many of them were spies, thieves, politicians, PR specialists and spin doctors.

Ever since what the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents called 'The Big Reveal', both organizations had been frantically rebuilding. S.H.I.E.L.D. more slowly, taking only the best, only the most trustworthy. Loki supposed he should be proud, even though he knew he was only there as a glorified prisoner.

HYDRA's recruits seemed to be skyrocketing, as they took to the internet in search of easily radicalized young men-mostly men, and boys-to bolster their numbers. They found plenty of them, and quickly, but they were sloppy and unpredictable. All too often, one let their ego overcome their loyalty to the cause, an event that almost always led to public confrontation and violence. But the news media-already infiltrated, most likely-was always quick to exonerate or sympathize with a young white man.

HYDRA disgusted Loki, even back when he had 'convinced' a small cell to work with him. No one group knew what the others were doing. There was a severe lack of communication between cells. Yes, Loki supposed it kept them safe from discovery, but he found it inefficient. A waste of potential by people more invested in the pageantry of a secret society, than by the end goal they hoped to achieve.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was little better, in his opinion, but at least its people were more serious about their work. Communication was more open, their goals more achievable. It felt like they made a difference, whether they really did or not. And they didn't waste potential. HYDRA would simply kill someone like Iris, S.H.I.E.L.D. found her valuable enough to spend resources on her. Under Loki's regime, had he succeeded, Iris, and all people like her, would have been of personal interest to him. All of these so-called 'mutants' would have been given places of high honor. Loki did not waste potential.

But that wasn't worth spending more time dwelling on. It was never meant to happen in the first place. When and where he would rule was yet to be discovered, but it would not happen until he was finished with his penance.

He provided Iris with her water, barely able to see her under all the roots. It was no wonder that she could not go into the field without a partner; she could not be ready for combat, couldn't even eat on her own! If they had to run, was he just supposed to tear her from the root wrapping and toss her over his shoulder? Would disconnecting her like that cause her harm?

He would have to ask next time she woke.

A young man approached, wielding an unfamiliar device. Loki was immediately on high alert. Was that some kind of weapon? He wandered all the way up to the verge of the grasses, gazing placidly out over the meadow. This was a HYDRA agent? He was barely out of adolescence! But from what Loki remembered of his brothers youthful declarations of hatred towards the Jotunn, radicalization did indeed start young.

“Naw, I think it must have been a glitch.” He said into his lapel. “There's nothing out here, not even trails in the grass.” He paused, listening. “Naw. Maybe it was a coyote? There's plenty of wild animals that wander around out here. My bro swears he saw a puma last year. Anyway, I'm gonna trim the grass, since I'm here anyway. If you're really worried, come out and check your cameras. I ain't gonna do it for you.”

With that, the young man yanked a long string, attached to a pod on the device, causing the thing to roar to life. Its loud snarl effectively covered Loki's startled gasp, his invisible eyes wide at the noise and the fact that everything within a six inch radius of the device's head was shredded and flung in all directions.

He had to maintain the illusion. But Iris was right in the horrible things' path. It would rip right into her face.

Unacceptable.

Loki rolled over on top of her, covering her body, roots and all, with his own. He ducked his head just as the device passed by. The force was like a high speed whip, tearing at his hair. It would have lacerated his scalp, possibly to the bone, had he been human. It would have certainly injured Iris, whom he kept safely tucked under his body, protected by his armor and tough, godly flesh.

The young man made a few more passes, working his way down the edge of the meadow, leaving Loki with a stinging scalp from his impromptu haircut, eventually leaving after finishing a rough, sub-par job.

Loki kept still, concentrating on maintaining the illusion, now including fresh cut grass. He feared it had wavered under the assault he had suffered, but the young man hadn't seemed to notice. Hours passed with no movement from Loki, just watching as various people came and went, doing their jobs. Eventually they all trickled away.

The sun had grown low in the sky before Loki felt Iris stir.

“Um. Loki? What are you doing? Did something happen?” Iris asked, her voice muffled by his body.

“Pardon me.” He rolled back into the grass as Iris shook her face free of the grasping roots. “Some boy came through here with a horrible device that tore up the grasses. It was necessary to cover you.”

Iris sniffed the air. “Someone cut the grass. Geez, did he hit you? Your hair!”

“Is it bad?” He asked, then covered his vanity. “It doesn't matter. I made good on my word. Here, eat.” He held food to her mouth. It would be almost too bad when this was over. Feeding her was so easy, so satisfying, and his hair would grow back anyway. If only all missions could be this easy.

Iris ate, watching the sunset, Loki laying on his side in the grass next to her, just watching her. Roots and shredded grass decorated her body, cube after cube passing her lips.

“Miss Devereaux, how will you remove yourself from those roots? If I must tear them, will it hurt you?”

Iris shook her head. “No, the roots aren't attached to me. If we pull this off without a hitch, I'll direct them into the soil. But if we have to get out in a hurry, you can tear them; it won't hurt me.”

“That's good to know.” Loki rolled onto his back, hands behind his head. “There is much still to learn about this realm. What is this that you are eating?”

“You sure you wanna know?” She asked.

“I am suddenly less curious, now that you have said that.” He admitted. “They do smell incredibly unappealing.”

“It's fertilizer, essentially. Fish emulsion and seaweed, blood and bone meal, fermented vegetables, all mashed together. Sounds super gross, I know,” She said at his disgusted expression. “But it's really good for me. My body absorbs it so efficiently that there isn't even any waste. Like roots inside me that absorb everything.”

“Are there? Roots inside you, I mean.”

“Sometimes.” Iris said quietly. “Maybe.”

“It bothers you? I see. It removes you from humanity. Sets you apart. And yet, you think that makes you inferior, rather than the other way around?”

“I'm not better than anybody else.” Iris said.

“You think not? Is there anyone else in this world who can do what you can do? How many people have your S.H.I.E.L.D. actively recruited? They came to find you specifically, why would they do that?  Because you were completely average? You are a valued agent of a semi-clandestine organization bent on world improvement. You have been partnered to a god. You are above-average, Iris. Why is that difficult to accept?”

“Are you 'above average' in Asgard, Loki? Have you always been celebrated for it?”

“Mostly.”

“I haven't. I've been despised. I've been misunderstood. I've been coddled and hidden away by my parents in an attempt to protect me. I've been discriminated against by strangers, and teachers, and employers, and neighbors whose kids I grew up with. By those same kids.

I walked out into the wild one day, and didn't come back. I never planned on coming back, never planned on seeing another person ever again. But S.H.I.E.L.D. weren't the first to find me. There were two others. There was a man, a strange old man who could fly. He floated down from the sky, and told me that as a mutant, I was naturally superior to all other humans. He wanted me to come with him, said he was building some grand future for mutantkind, as if we were a different species.”

“Who was this man?” Loki asked, intrigued.

“No idea. I told him to leave. It wasn't long after I had left home, and I really didn't want to go back to any kind of civilization. I was kinda fantasizing about becoming some kind of cryptid, you know? The Everglades Swamp Witch, or something like that.

Then the botanists came. A whole group of them, trying to catalog Ghost Orchids. They're endangered, and people keep stealing them, and wrecking up their habitat. But I knew where they were. All two thousand of them. And I convinced them that I was in contact with all the remaining plants, so if any went missing after their expedition, I'd know, and come hunting for them.”

She grinned. “Like I said, Swamp Witch vibes. They even believed me!”

“So you cannot actually do that?” Loki asked. The stars had come out, forming unfamiliar shapes in the night sky. His eyes could pick out fainter lights than a humans could, and he admired the active beauty of this part of the universe while eating from one of the non-specialty ration packs.

“Well, I can, but not automatically. And not that far away. I have to be closer to a plant to really sense it, and I have to be trying really hard. Like, if I wanted to figure out where the nearest maple tree was, I would have to concentrate on that, and block out all the grass. But a maple has a different...I guess you could call it a signature? A different signature than grass does. A Ghost Orchid grows on trees, and is basically just a ball of roots when it's not blooming. Kinda like this-” Iris nodded at the roots tangled around her. “But way smaller. It looks like nothing, almost. They're very hard to spot. But they have that different signature than the tree they grow on, and I can follow that to where they are.”

“So you found all their plants, as if by magic.”

“Yeah, and they paid me pretty well for it, and I sent the money home to my parents, and then the botanists went home and blabbed. Next thing I know. S.H.I.E.L.D. is on my tail.”

“Because you were friendly to botanists?”

“Well...I might have also...sabotaged a development project.” Iris said sheepishly. “But it was right on the edge of the National Park, and I didn't let anybody get hurt! And I'm pretty sure it was dubiously legal anyway.”

The edges of Loki's mouth curled, even as his eyebrows lifted.

“What's this? You're 'shy and sensitive' I was told. Was I sold a bill of goods? Are you, in fact, a naughty little mutant?”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Ugh, don't joke. Naughty little mutants end up dead.”

The amusement drained from his face.

“You would be celebrated in Asgard.” He said.

“We aren't in Asgard.” She answered. “The only thing that matters is where we are now. Those guys in there? They'd kill us both just for being born. They'd make it so that no one like us could ever be born again. When S.H.I.E.L.D showed up, in their black uniforms and started introducing themselves as 'agents', I thought that's what they had come for. The government was there to kill me.

At that point, I'd been off the grid for over a year, and I didn't know anything about the S.H.I.E.L.D./HYDRA internet explosion. But when they started talking about rebuilding as a humanitarian organization, dedicated to the protection of people-marginalized people-from, like, terrorist groups and hostile aliens, I realized they weren't there to kill me or arrest me, they were just there for me.

So I didn't make them disappear, and went with them instead. I still send money home to my parents. They don't know where I am, or what I do. They don't know the true extent of my capabilities. I'm not sure I do either. The thing about being a mutant is that a lot of these powers don't get replicated exactly, so we each have to figure ourselves out. There's no training regimen or curriculum for this.”

“So all of this is self taught?” Loki asked, impressed. “I'm not even entirely self taught.”

“You were taught? This all didn't just come from being a god or whatever?”

“No, of course not. The power is there naturally, but it needs directing. Like you, I suppose. You're born with it, but need teaching to use it. I had the best teachers the universe could offer, and was exalted and encouraged. You had only yourself, and adversity. I've seen but little of you, but this seems a great feat so far.”

“A compliment?”

“An acknowledgment. It's good to know S.H.I.E.L.D. has become more discerning in its recruitment. I hear it was more than a little disastrous for them last time.”

“Like I said, I didn't find out about that until after. Though, I guess it's not all that surprising that it happened. There's a lot that can go wrong inside an organization that big, and with that much reach. There's just too much going on; there can never be enough oversight.”

“I know.” Loki said. “I used that against them when I attempted to bring down the planet. Somehow, they still didn't notice the traitors among them.”

“You worked with HYDRA?” Iris asked defensively.

“No.” Loki said. “I used them. I didn't...make many distinctions then, in my interactions with mortals.”

“Kinda seems like you still don't.” Iris pointed out. Loki took a breath and hesitated.

“Moreso than I did then.” He said slowly. “Then, you were just tools. A means to an end. Disposable. Interchangeable. There are so many of you, so it wasn't like any of your could actually be important.”

“Right up until barely six of us beat the tar out of you and blew up your entire army?”

Loki scowled. “That is a misstatement. The plan was always to lose.”

“Bull. Shit.”

“No, I'm serious. Earth was the weakest link in the Nine Realms, and it needed to be awakened. And you were. Spectacularly. Look what it's lead to. S.H.I.E.L.D. was purged, HYDRA exposed, and your world made ready for the arrival of Asgard. You've been opened to higher interactions, as a progressing member of the Realms.”

“Uh huh. That was totally the end goal, right? Inter-species altruism? That was what filled your heart while you blew people up?”

“Norns, no!” Loki snorted. “I hated every last one of you. I took a special delight in destroying that which was weaker than myself, never think I didn't. It's just...It wasn't entirely up to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...I mean that losing was an act of defiance that sparked off the strengthening defense of Midgard, which I continue to participate in. Doing small jobs for S.H.I.E.L.D., rubbing out the likes of HYDRA and A.I.M., all of this contributes to this strengthening.”

Iris regarded him suspiciously through her framework of roots.

“You sound like you're running some sinister, behind-the-scenes shadow plan.” She accused. “You wanna explain?”

Loki smiled, a wan, false thing.

“Do you want some water?” He offered instead.

Iris rolled her eyes. “You're not gonna distract me.”

“And I am not going to elaborate further. Your curiosity will have to remain unsatisfied, or supplemented by your own imagination.”

“Hmph. Why'd you even bring it up then?”

“I? I think you'll find our conversation naturally meandered in this direction. That does not mean it must come to the conclusion you desire.”

“So this is what Abby meant when she said you were a pain in the ass to talk to.” Iris grumbled.

“I was not put here to satisfy Abby.” Loki said airily. “Who is Abby?”

“She asked you on a date.” Iris said. “You don't even remember her? Harsh.”

Loki shrugged. “She sounds frightfully dull. I may have to play nice for now, but I needn't entertain every persons sordid fantasies. Do you leap through every hoop set before you? Or do you also tell unimportant people that you aren't interested in entertaining them?”

“All right, that's fair.” Iris craned her head back to look up at the stars. “Which one is Asgard? Can you see it from here?”

“You can't.” Loki said. “The star is too far away, too small. And it doesn't matter now anyway. Home is gone, and we must rebuild from scratch. But that one, right there-do you see? Another realm orbits that one, the Frozen Realm of Jotunheim. They were our enemies once, and yours, but no more. Partly because they are under 'house arrest' as it were, trapped on their own planet. My father drove them off your planet over a thousand years ago. Your world actually warmed up without their influence, at least for a little while.”

“There were aliens here a thousand years ago?” Iris asked, incredulous.

“There have been 'aliens' here for ages.” Loki said. “Visitations and experiments, and failed colonies, and raids. Your ancestors were still getting the hang of fire, and there were 'aliens' visiting your lush and beautiful world. Making plans. Then your lot discovered agriculture and metal, and ruined a lot of those plans.”

“Seems like we're good at that.”

“Yes, yes, I was defeated by mortals. I am aware. I was the first to know.” Loki grumbled.

“Wait, does that mean the aliens really did build the pyramids?” Iris wondered.

Loki snickered. “The hubris of humanity is not universally shared. You are known for several things, and your inexplicable drive for monument building is one of them. Visitors did not build your great buildings; you did. They did come to see them though, like tourists. Some of them even took artifacts back home with them. Hopefully they weren't too historically important.”

“That's so rude.” Iris said.

“And you would never have known to take offense if I hadn't told you.”

God of Mischief indeed.

“What other realms are there? Just the nine?”

“Eight now, I suppose. But no. There are many peoples out there. The Nine Realms were just those places that were somehow related to Asgard. Allies, protectorates and...penal colonies, you might call them. But all interconnected, and all at least a little dependent on the others, at least some of the time. That has come to an end. There is a very powerful spot now empty. I fear there will be a great deal of turmoil before things even themselves back out. It would be interesting to see how that all plays out, but alas, I am trapped here for now.”

“Where would you go?” Iris asked.

“Alfheim first, I think.” Loki said. “They like me there. They are much less dour than the Dverguar, less serious than the Vanir, not so boastful and bombastic as Asgardins, not vicious as Jotunn, and nowhere near as hectic and anxious as Midgardians...humans, I mean. They like jokes and pranks, and value magic...perhaps I should have been Alfar? If only I could have chosen.”

“Yeah, I think we all feel that way sometimes. But I guess even gods don't get that choice. Hey, how do gods work, anyway? I mean, I stopped believing in any all-powerful force a long time ago. About when the only answer anyone could really give me as to why God would make someone like me was that I was put here to test faith. My own, or other people's maybe. It made me sick. What kind of 'father' puts a burden like that on a little kid?”

Loki scoffed. “The first mistake that humans make is in thinking that anything can be all-powerful, all-knowing, or infallible. It is a ridiculous fantasy notion, immature and irresponsible. That kind of thinking can only lead to two things: complete disillusionment, or harm to the self or others. I am a god, because I have a singular connection to a certain aspect of the universe, as does my brother, but neither of us are any of those things. How boring, to be all-knowing! How banal, to be all-powerful. And I have known people who seemed to think they were infallible, and the amount of misery and suffering they caused is unspeakable.

No, gods were never supposed to be all that. Greater than others, yes, but omnipotent...no, that's only for people who are overcompensating I think.”

“What's that about a special connection to the universe?” Iris asked.

“The universe is ridiculously unstable. Did you know that? I believe it was a human that posited that reality destroys and remakes itself fairly often in the scheme of things, but by the nature of it, it's impossible to ever know if that's true. Because if reality is destroyed, so are you, and so, you would never know. And if reality rebuilds itself, then that is the only reality that exists, so you would never know.”

“Oh hell, I don't like that.”

“Well just don't think about it. In any case, this instability seems to be occasionally expressed through individuals of particularly resilient and long-lived species, by connecting them to certain random forces. For my brother, it is the natural occurrence of thunder and lightning, those two things being directly connected. For me, it is an expression of sophisticated behaviors. Those forces are ours to deploy and manipulate to our will, and we affect them in the world around us, even as they effect us.”

“So you're just born with it too, huh?”

“So it seems.”

Iris settled back down into her swaddling roots to sleep, leaving Loki to stare up at the stars. The grass-cutting human had mentioned cameras. Loki had shielded them from that kind of surveillance on the way in, just in case. They must be hidden somewhere out in the trees. Could Iris detect such things? Would it be worthwhile to disable any, if suspicion was already on them? Or would that merely draw even more suspicion?

Perhaps while Iris remained incapacitated, actions that might bring more enemies out should be avoided. She did not have his durable skin, after all, nor his speed or strength. But with her unusual and largely unexplained powers, he hesitated in thinking of her as weak. More like...a specialist.

He felt her stir, just as the sun was lifted into the sky, and he fed her her morning cubes. She settled into her work trance almost immediately. Perhaps she was put off by the previous nights conversation, and didn't want more of the same. Perhaps she simply wanted to finish this mission quickly. Surely she too found it boring to lay in the same spot for days.

He watched the people come and go about their work restoring the schoolhouse. How many of them were just regular workers, and how many were enemy agents? Impossible to tell by looking, especially if even the youth were involved.

The sun had not risen particularly high when he noticed a difference. The roots that wrapped Iris' body were thinning; as he watched, more and more broke away from the tangle to bury themselves in the dirt at her sides. It was like watching worms escaping danger.

Finally, Iris pulled her hands from the soil, and pushed free of the roots.

“Alright.” She said. “Bugs are in. Now it's time for us to bug out.”

In retrospect, Loki could admit that he had been too eager to leave. He simply didn't do well with long periods of inactivity. So when he walked into the trees surrounding the meadow, and found himself face to face with a shotgun-wielding hunter, he wasn't too embarrassed. No, what really made him kick himself was when the one behind them held Iris at gunpoint. How could he have let one of these yokels get behind him?

“Who the hell are you freaks?” The one in front demanded. Loki recognized him as the youth with the loud grass cutting device who had ruined his hair.

“Gaw, this one stinks!” The other one exclaimed. “Well what do ya expect? She looks like mud, of course she smells like it.”

“We were just out looking for a...private place, if you catch my drift.” Loki said smoothly, getting ready. “Nothing to get worried about. It's just such a nice day, and we couldn't help ourselves.”

“Gross.” The one behind Iris said.

“We don't want you degenerate types around here.” The one in front of Loki said. “Now hands up, freak. You're way too close.”

“To what, pray tell?” Loki said. Almost ready.

“Don't talk about it, dumbass!” The other one hissed.

“Look, let's just kill them, to be sure.” The one in front of Loki said. “World ain't gonna miss a few freaks. And then nobody knows, and we don't get in trouble.”

Loki lifted his hand in a gesture he knew humans considered to be rude. Both men fired their guns.

Neither of them saw the illusions of Loki and Iris fade away, sprawled as they were one the forest floor, bleeding from the bullet wounds they'd inflicted upon one another.

Several yards away, Loki took his hands from over Iris' ears, and approached the HYDRA recruits. One of them was still alive. Loki carefully wrapped his hand in a cloth he manifested from seemingly nowhere, and casually suffocated him.

He then led the horrified Iris back to their rented car, and got back onto the highway as quickly as he could.

The silence stretched on for several hours, Loki watching the road, Iris gazing out the window at the scenery.

“Why didn't we sneak off as soon as you put up those illusions?” She finally asked. “We were invisible. We could have just left.”

“They had seen us.” Loki said. “They could not be allowed to go and inform their superiors. If there was suspicion that we had been snooping around the school, the entire point of the mission would be moot. Besides, they were extremely rude.”

“Don't joke.” Iris said sharply. “You killed that man in cold blood.”

“I killed him on cold practicality.” Loki corrected. “He could not be allowed to live, and let others know that he and the other one hadn't actually accidentally shot one another. Once anyone had seen us, that had to be the end for them. It is understandable that you might not like that, which is why I would not ask you to participate. But if I am sent on a mission as a protector, then that is what I will do. These were men who wanted to kill you just for being born, remember?”

“They were radicalized. They could have been deradicalized.”

“And how do you propose we were to do that?”

Iris huffed. “Damnit.”

“Sometimes we aren't afforded the choices we would prefer. But don't fret. I will take full responsibility in the report. I know the Director isn't keen on too many work-related killings.” It was part of why Loki took such delight in reporting work-related killings. Just to remind them of who he was, and what he was capable of.

Once they had reached their destination and returned the rental car, Iris called their contact agent for extraction. She wasn't exactly distant, but with other things to focus on, and other people demanding their times, the closeness of the last two days was fading fast.

Oh well, Loki thought. It had been nice while it lasted. But nothing was forever, and all affection was fleeting; he knew that well enough.

But it was a little odd to see her so preoccupied with her phone.

“Have you a Tweety account, or some such?” He asked, trying to strike up a conversation once again.

“Since that doesn't exist: no.” She answered, distracted. “No, there's just...I'm seeing someone, and he wants to meet up as soon as I get back.”

Loki frowned. For some reason, he didn't like that sound of that. “You need rest, don't you?” He suggested.

“Yeah, and it's a little last minute, I admit. But he's an agent too, and our schedules don't match up very often, so we've got to meet when we can, or not at all.”

“That sounds like a difficult arrangement.”

Iris shrugged. “I'll take what I can get. At least he doesn't seem to mind the whole mutant thing. That's kinda important when you're in my shoes.”

“You do not sound entirely enamored of this man.” Loki probed.

“Well...I'd like to get to know him better, but he's very private. Mostly, I just don't want to be alone. It's hard for people like me, you know? I can't just throw a relationship away because it's not some perfect storybook romance. Gotta be more realistic than that. But I sure hope I get a few days rest before I get sent out again.”

It sounded...practical. She had to take her opportunities where she found them. It wasn't as if Loki had never been there. It was perhaps a little sad, since it sounded like she really did want that storybook romance.

Perhaps it was none of his business. It was absolutely none of his business. He followed her anyway, curious about what kind of man made this little flower bloom.

The man in question was not impressive, in Loki's opinion. Not much more than average. Maybe that didn't matter to Iris.

“Bet you're glad to be done with all that, huh?” He asked. “Dealing with that creep couldn't be easy.”

“It wasn't really all that bad, honestly. He-”

“I don't really want to hear about him. C'mon, we have the whole evening! Let's not waste it!”

Loki decided then and there that he did not like this man. Not in small part because he wanted to know what Iris had to say about him.

She took him to what must have been her apartment, and there Loki left. There were a few things he didn't want to know after all.

[dragonkeeper19600]

One thing Enter the Florpus did for ZIM and Dib’s characters is it made the parallel between their individual quests for approval more explicit. 

ZIM seeks the recognition of his people and adoration of the Tallest. Dib, likewise, wants to be lauded as “Sole Defender of Earth,” especially by his father. This connection is so strong that Jhonen actually referred to the Tallest as ZIM’s “dads” in an online interview. Both Dib and ZIM want to be praised by the most important people in their lives.

However, as I thought about this dynamic, it became increasingly clear to me just how much better off Dib is than ZIM. For all ZIM’s advanced technology and scientific intellect, Dib has the one thing ZIM will never have, the very thing he wants most desperately.

And it isn’t just that Professor Membrane loves Dib and the Tallest hate ZIM. The tragic nature of ZIM’s dream goes even further than that. Not only is ZIM’s entire mission a sham, but the Tallest themselves aren’t at all what ZIM believes them to be.

Irken propaganda portrays the Tallest like rockstars. The announcer at Conventia describes them as “all-powerful” and “all-knowing.” There’s an almost North Korean cult of personality surrounding them and their supposed strengths and virtues.

And, it’s all a lie. The Tallest put no effort into running the Empire. The Control Brains run the actual government, the Tallest are pure figureheads. Not only do they never do anything productive, but they’re terrible people, even compared to other Irkens. They’re spoiled, lazy, and live a life of instant gratification. They spent Probing Day, which is meant to evaluate the progress of Invaders, pummeling the Invaders and commanding them to throw them puppet shows. They betray and commit genocide against their allies and have their own soldiers executed and imprisoned on a whim. They don't even commit their own war crimes. We have never once seen them in combat; they order other people to do the executing and blowing up for them. They’re so fucking privileged that they don’t even have to walk. All the talk of them being omniscient and awe-inspiring is pure propaganda, plain and simply. 

ZIM is an egomaniac, but he’s totally bought the party line. He truly believes that the Irken race is superior to all other species in the universe, and he idolizes the Tallest just as much if not more than everybody else. ZIM lacks the self-awareness to realize that the people he adores basically don’t exist. Everything he believes about them is a state-mandated lie.

By contrast, Professor Membrane is an incredible individual. He’s a scientific genius who works around the clock, and everything he does is for the benefit of mankind. He’s saved the Earth no less than twice, was able to turn Dib into a super-advanced cyborg in the timeline where he became mortally crippled, and was thrown into a panic over being unable to cure Gaz’s “disease” in a single day. He - apparently successfully - designed a handheld device meant to create world peace, and Foodio 3000′s original function in “Ten Minutes to Doom” was to solve world hunger. Professor Membrane is just as beloved on Earth as the Tallest are to the Irken Empire, but in the Professor’s case, the hype is 100% justified.

Yes, Professor Membrane has his flaws. He has shown a willingness to use his children in the name of SCIENCE, and Gaz and Dib both crave more attention from him. But, Dib is seeking recognition from someone who’s respect is actually worth something. ZIM, on the other hand, is chasing a shadow. Even if he does someday gain the Tallest’s respect, his dream will still be unfulfilled because the people he believes in aren’t real. He’ll never, ever have what Dib has. 

[get-your-fics]

Suburbia - Part Four

Man in Black

Summary: You have the seemingly perfect life, with the perfect house and the perfect husband. But the illusion threatens to be unraveled when you start to have strange but familiar nightmares.

Pairing: Albert Wesker x reader

Series warnings: Smut, dub-con/non-con, breeding kink, sex pollen, blood, violence

PART THREE

“You've been a very bad girl while I was away.”

His heavy boot made a solid thud as he took a step towards you. “Don’t move!” you shouted, pressing yourself against the edge of the desk behind you as much as you could. “Don’t come any closer!”

“Or what? What are you going to do?” he chuckled, but didn’t move. “You wouldn’t want to do anything rash now, dear. You’ll over exert yourself-”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you cut him off through gritted teeth. “What the fuck is going on?” He didn’t say anything, merely stared at you. You felt like your blood was boiling in your veins. “Answer me!” You slammed your fist down on the desk, your voice bouncing off of the white walls. “I deserve answers!”

“Didn’t you find all your precious answers in those files?” He gestured to the manila folders scattered across the desk. It looked like a hurricane had blown through it. “I have to say, I’m surprised you caught on. But, you always were too smart for your own good.”

“Where are we?” you asked.

“We’re in an underground testing facility. Umbrella ran simulations here in order to sell the T-virus to government agencies worldwide,” he said. “Right now, we’re in a simulation of a suburban neighborhood. I thought it would be effective to replace your memory with artificial memories we concocted and place you here, that it would make you more compliant with the project.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, the memory erasure had some unforeseen side effects. Hence the nightmares.”

“So you were just going to treat me like a pet?” you spat. “You thought it was okay to keep me locked up in this cage and breed me like a dog? That you could turn me into your little trophy housewife, have me cook and clean for you with the wool pulled over my eyes and get away with it?”

“Cage?” He laughed as if you had meant what you had said to be amusing. “Look around you, (Y/N).” He spun around in a circle, his arms spread wide. “This is hardly a cage. I was going to let you live obliviously in domestic bliss. I was offering you another chance at a good life, the kind of life that’s been extinct since the world ended.”

“You’re the one who ripped that chance away from me, from everyone, in the first place!” You pointed your finger accusingly at him.

“You act like I’m some kind of monster.” He pressed his gloved hand to his chest in mock offense. “Tell me, was I ever mean to you? Did I ever hurt you? Didn’t I always keep you fed and happy and content? Was I ever anything but the nice, dutiful, caring husband to you?”

You shook your head. “None of that matters. I was living a lie.”

“You can choose to see it that way, if you wish,” he said. “I was doing you a favor, (Y/N). Things for you could’ve been much worse.” He gestured to the computer, the paused video still displayed on its screen. “Well, you’ve seen the footage.”

You glanced at the video over your shoulder before looking back at him. “Was any of it real?” Your mind conjured up memories of coffee dates, of fancy restaurant dinners, of him getting down on one knee and popping the question, of him kissing you on your wedding day as you stared at him. But they were all fake, artificial memories implanted into your brain. They were hazy and lackluster, but all the emotion was still there. And even with all this new information, that didn’t make it just disappear. “Was it all pretend?”

“You mean do I love you?” You stared down at your bare feet. The fact that part of you still hoped this man loved you revolted you to the core. “I have respect for you, (Y/N). Love is trivial in comparison. You are the future - the superior evolution of mankind. You are the only one worthy of carrying my child.” His words made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “With our combined genetics, we could improve upon the human race. Think of the things we could accomplish if we worked together.”

“I will never work with you.” You shook your head. “You just want to create monsters. You destroyed humanity out of greed. You kill people.”

He quirked a brow. “And you don’t?”

“I kill people because I have to,” you argued.

“You kill because it’s in your blood,” he said. “You see the weak and you eradicate them, making way for the exceptional species.”

“You’re sick,” you sneered. “You’re so obsessed with your perverted, demented version of saving the world, you don’t realize you’re ruining it. You don’t care about me or anyone else. You only care about yourself.”

He tutted disapprovingly. “Such harsh words, little bird.”

In an instant, you smacked his cheek with a resounding slap. His face fell to the side, his sunglasses sliding off his nose and breaking on impact with the tile. You could already see a red handprint spreading across his cheek. “Don’t call me that,” you hissed.

He looked back at you, and you gasped. His eyes - they were a bright, violent red. Every other time you had seen them, they were a clear, sky blue. But now, his pupils were black slits in the middle of each eyeball like a snake’s.

“You don’t want to do this, (Y/N),” he threatened. A golden tendril of hair had escaped his perfectly coiffed hairdo and now hung loose down his forehead. “We can forget this ever happened. We can go on living a perfect, normal life, and you can pretend like you’re none the wiser.”

“I would never agree to live in this house with you, Wesker.” You gripped the edge of the desk. You couldn’t trust him. The second you were no longer of use to him, he would throw you away like a worn-out toy.

“Then I will be forced to take you in. We’ll wipe your memory again and start fresh. And this time we’ll make sure to flesh out the details.” His lips curled into a sinister smirk. “Or maybe it’ll be back to the holding cell. Now why don’t you make it as easy as possible for yourself and come willingly?”

You readied yourself. “I’m not going down without a fight.”

He rose to his full height and cracked his knuckles. “Suit yourself.”

You threw a punch at him. He dodged your fist and latched onto your arm. He used your momentum against you and flipped you over his shoulder onto the metal table behind him. You slid off of it and landed on the ground, the wind knocked out of you.

He walked around the table and strode towards you effortlessly. Once he was within reach, you kicked at his kneecaps. He stumbled back, giving you enough time to leap to your feet. You swung at him again. He moved out of the way, but you learned from your mistake and brought your other hand up to connect with his jaw. He recovered quickly and pushed his heavy boot into your stomach.

You were knocked backwards, sending several test tubes crashing to the floor. You picked up a shard of a flask and stabbed it into his neck as he came towards you. He barely batted an eye. He plucked it out as if he was brushing off dust, unfazed by the blood dribbling out of the puncture wound in his neck.

He charged at you again, this time armed with the broken piece of glass. You ducked just in time as he thrust it at you, narrowly avoiding his hit. You retaliated with a blow to his side. He jabbed the glass into your hand as you did so. You let out a blood curdling scream as it sunk through your flesh. You gripped it and ripped it out with a yelp, discarding the fragmented pieces to the floor. You watched as the wound ceased leaking blood and closed itself up all on its own.

Wesker swiped at your ankles, and you dropped to the ground. You cried out as bits of glass scratched at and protruded from your skin. They crunched under his boots as he stopped in front of you. He buried a hand in your hair and dragged you off the floor. He hauled you off of the ground, your toes barely brushing the tile. You wrapped your hands around his in an attempt to lessen the pressure on your scalp and flailed your legs to kick at him desperately.

“Maybe we should have some fun first.” He pressed you back against the wall and slipped his hand under your nightgown. “One last go around for old times sake.”

His hand crept closer towards your clothed core, and you brought your leg up to knee him in the crotch. He let go of you with a grunt. You landed on your feet and regained your balance enough to kick him in the chest. He flew backwards, ending up on the other side of the room. You came at him with fists flying and teeth bared. You landed a few successful punches before he grabbed both your arms and pushed you back.

He wrapped his fingers around your throat and lifted you up. He slammed your back against the wall and tightened his hold on you. He stared at you with pure rage and fury in his glowing, red eyes. He squeezed until gray dots started to form over your vision, and you felt your lungs start to deflate as the oxygen left them.

“Just... do it...” you choked out.

His unwavering stare faltered, and his expression softened. His eyes faded to a warm amber, and the hard, straight line of his mouth twisted into a frown. He loosened his grip on you and slowly set you back down on the ground.

You spat out blood and looked up at him. “You do love me.” You flashed him a lopsided smirk.

He blinked, and his eyes turned red again. “Don’t be foolish,” he scoffed. “You’re more valuable to us alive.”

But something in the way he had looked at you told you otherwise. “Well, the only way you’ll take me in is if you kill me.”

You broke from his grip and roundhouse kicked him in the face. He staggered back, and you approached him again, fists raised. You threw a punch, but he caught your arm, twisting it. “Have you given up yet?” He threw you to the ground. His expression was stone cold and stoic. “We can do this forever, and you’ll never get anywhere.”

You slowly started to push yourself up again, but he stepped his boot-clad foot in the middle of your back, keeping you down. You knew you were both equally matched and could go at this for hours to no avail. But you also knew that he had a weakness you didn’t.

You spotted a green test tube that had rolled under the desk. You reached for it, stretching your arm as much as you possibly could. Your fingertips just barely brushed the glass. Wesker got out a syringe and uncapped it. He bent down so he was at your level as you got the tube within your grasp. Just as he was about to sedate you, you reached behind yourself and injected it into his neck before he could do anything.

He let out an angered growl and backed away from you. The syringe slipped from his grip and clattered to the ground. He grappled for the metal table to steady himself, pressing a hand against where you had injected him. He panted and fell to his knees, his skin turning sallow and pale as his T-virus levels fluctuated.

You rolled onto your back and noticed a handgun duct taped to the bottom of the desk. You tore it off and rose from the ground. You cocked the gun and aimed it at him.

He looked up at you and cracked a grin. “You won’t make it out of here alive. Even if you do, there’s nowhere to go.”

“It’s worth a shot,” you replied, and then you pulled the trigger.

The blast echoed as the gun went off. He looked down as blood seeped out of the bullet hole right where his heart was. He clutched his chest, blood running through the gaps in his fingers, and slumped back against the wall. His ragged breaths grew soft and shallow with each passing second. His arm dropped to his side, and his head lolled as he went silent.

You lowered the gun and stood still. Your heart pounding against your rib cage and your blood rushing in your veins were the only sounds in the now quiet room. You hesitantly padded across the tile towards him. You stopped right in front of him and poked at him with your toe. His body remained limp. His eyes were once again amber, blank and void with nothing behind them as he stared off into space. And this time he wouldn’t be getting up.

You felt something wet hit your cheek and swiped at it. You couldn’t stop the onslaught of tears from coming, and before you knew it, you were full on sobbing. You fell to your knees in front of him and lowered your head, clawing at your chest as if your heart wanted to burst out. You blamed it on the fake memories, that you were designed to react this way, but you knew deep down part of you had wanted to continue to live with him in ignorant bliss.

You wiped away your tears with the back of your hand. Your face was red and splotchy, your eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying. Your nightgown was tattered and practically hung off of your body in shreds. Every bone and muscle in your body ached. You imagined you resembled the way you had appeared in the video, tortured and battle-worn.

Suddenly, there was a sharp prick in your neck. You furrowed your brows as a buzzing filled your ears and something foreign pumped through your veins. The world spun around you, and everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. You teetered forward and collapsed on top of Wesker’s cold, dead corpse. The position you were in allowed you to see behind you, and the last thing you saw were men wearing thick, plated armor and gas masks moving towards you with their guns raised before everything went black.

-

You slowly came to. You were lying on an examination table in a room with beige walls that smelled like bleach. You were wearing a hospital gown and hooked up to some sort of machine with a screen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you heard a voice whisper to you. You looked up to see a face hovering above you, and when you focused in on it, you recognized it as your husband’s. “You passed out once you got on the table. Don’t worry, the doc says it’s perfectly normal,” he placated you.

You looked down at your body and noticed something off: there was, barely perceivable but visible none the less, the start of a growing bump along your abdomen. You must be about two or three months along. No, in fact, you knew you were - you could remember the day you had told him about the two little lines that had shown up on the test and how he had smiled at you with all the love in the world.

“Congratulations, little bird. It’s a girl.” He placed a protective hand over your stomach. A wide grin spread across his face, bordering on wolfish. “The first of many.”

EPILOGUE

[travllingbunny]

Breakdown of the short TV promos for The 100 season 7

with screenshots and speculation!

While we’re waiting for the trailer to come out (which should happen by the end of this week, “hopefully” today according to Jason Rothenberg’s latest tweet), and after we’ve secured Eliza the victory she deserves as E-Online’s Top Leading Lady, I’ve watched the two short TV promos that CW has aired during other shows, which are both now on YouTube. Although both versions of the promo are pretty short (the second one is slightly longer and more interesting), there’s a surprising amount of various scenes.Although some of them are blink and miss it,  there are a lot of dramatic shots of random people fighting or getting killed or taken captive, and all of it is out of context.

However, the press release with the descriptions of the first 4 episodes helps figure out what some of the scenes may be. It looks like there are many shots from the season premiere, but also scenes from 7x02, 7x04 and the backdoor pilot (7x08).

Bellamy crying seems to be the continuation of his last scene in 6x13. He even still has the same clothes and is crying over Octavia disappearing from his arms into thin air. This is definitely 7x01, maybe even the first scene.

The second scene also seems to be Bellamy - Octavia would've bled onto his arms before she disappeared.

Also outside Sanctum: this shot in the woods. I have no idea what's going on here, a person is crouching on the ground - Bellamy? Someone else? Is this Anomaly-related?

Speaking of the Anomaly...

The person sitting on the ground looks like Gabriel. But why is he just sitting there? It wouldn't be surprising if he went into the Anomaly. He's certainly nowhere to be seen in Sanctum scenes.

These people, who look very SciFi and  are obviously connected to the Anomaly,    are likely to be new antagonists - and this may be from 7x01 From the Ashes, when, according to the press release, “ a new threat rises in the woods”. Their masks have a design similar to the title card of S7 opening titles.

Meanwhile, in Sanctum:

“Clarke (Eliza Taylor) and her friends attempt to rebuild Sanctum “ (press release for 7x01 From the Ashes) but “As Raven (Lindsey Morgan) faces an unexpected threat, Clarke (Eliza Taylor) must keep the peace among opposing factions in Sanctum” (7x03 False Gods).

The Children of Gabriel (we see Nelson among them) vs Earthkru? Is that the conflict now? What's going on with the Sanctumites who still worship Primes and those who hate them? Are Wonkru and Eligius prisoners going to be in conflict, too?

Raven (who's back to her pre-S6 look, and even has a red jacket - not the one she had in S1-2) tells Murphy and Emori (looking normal, not like fake Primes) that "This place is a powder keg.” “It always ends the same..."

Also in Sanctum -  Indra (still in her warrior gear), saying "New world, same problems"

and Clarke talking to Gaia (in front of an idyllic looking house with a fence, maybe where she lives with Madi now in Sanctum) - "I used to think fighting is what we do... now I worry that fighting is what we are." We aren't done with the S6 angsty soul-searching!

And in a different mood -my favorite moment in the promos, Clarke punching Russell! I thought it wasn't him at first, so I thought "I wish she was punching Russell" but it is. It’s his clothes, and they are in the Sanctum shrine. (It's just obviously not JR, but a stunt double, which is unfortunately pretty obvious, LOL.)

s he still Russell or Sheidheda as Russell? He's certainly yelling the same way he yelled "I want REVENGE!" in 6x13 (f*ck you, Russell). Now it's "I want DEATH!". His death? I wish. We're not that lucky. And it looks like he's talking to Brainwashed!Jordan. (sigh)

Outside Sanctum, at night, Clarke (with a great new leather jacket) is pointing a gun at someone in the 1st promo... And it becomes clear in the 2nd promo that she's pointing the "Mysterious outsiders (who) arrive with news of Clarke’s missing people" in 7x04 Hesperides.

The mysterious strangers are led by the bald white dude who says: "You are the key to winning the last war mankind will wage". Wow! Color me intrigued! 

Since she only has Gaia, Niylah and some guys with her,  it's safe to say Bellamy, Echo (+probably Gabriel) are among the missing people.

Which, however, doesn't mean Bellamy, Echo and Gabriel are in the same location. 

The trailer only shows Bellamy in the early scene of crying over Octavia, and he's not mentioned at all in the press releases, so it seems his storyline is too spoilery and they’re keeping it under wraps.

In this interview, Jason said about Clarke in season 7: “And as we’ll see going forward, she is now definitely determined to not lose any of her family again, in a way that is almost obsessive. Her family being Madi of course, and Bellamy and Raven and Murphy; these are all people that she loves and is not going to lose. “ Which I have (mis)interpreted as Jasonspeak for Clarke obsessed with saving Bellamy. ;)

Unlike Bellamy, we do see what Echo is up to. Here she is with short hair  as one of those new masked Anomaly people, on some kind of mission? Possibly undercover?

(Remember when the fandom decided Echo was dead because Tasya cut her hair? LOL I always thought the drawing such conclusions from BTS things made no sense. Likewise, it’s now clear how silly it was to decide some characters must have died early because actors were off in LA for a while. I don’t know why so many people think the cast are glued to the set 24/7 for 6 months, and we now know that episodes were shot out of order - because there are multiple locations, with different characters/actors, so an actor could take a few weeks or even a full month off while they are shooting on another location and a storyline they aren’t involved in. For episode 1x08, the backdoor pilot - which was shot late and is production number 7x13 - that would have probably meant the entire regular cast had a few weeks off. I’m sure the cast took the chance to go and audition for new roles - at least one of them, Lindsey, got cast in a new show while the shooting of The 100 was halfway.)

We also see one of these new Anomaly soldier people here, looking pretty threatening as they pull out some kind of a weapon.

Definitely the Anomaly here and - wow, that's Diyoza the way we've never seen her before. Looks like a "garden of Eden". Probably Hope's flashbacks from the episode 7x02 The Garden (according to the press release: "Echo and Gabriel learn more about Hope and her mysterious past"). 

And here’s Octavia and young Hope, who's nodding her head. Looks like they are in some kind of danger. Third time lucky for O, after Ethan and Rose.

I don't know what this person is looking at, but they seemed shocked... and I think the large green eyes are Hope's. In fact, this is probably again young Hope.

Now here's the truly weird stuff. Octavia, in her season 1 tank top, in a sterile white laboratory that looks a lot like Mount Weather, being experimented on under the supervision of someone who looks like Dante Wallace? (We see this same shot in both promos, but mirror flipped in one of them.)

Whatever this is, I'm sure it's NOT the actual MW. And it sure as hell isn’t a simulation by Dante and the Mountain Men. They’re super dead.

What I think is going on here - it could be another trippy sequence for any reason, but I like the theory that the Anomaly somehow shows people alternative realities, things that might have been, What if? scenarios.

Unlike the other scenes in Sanctum, this one is likely to be from a later episode.  If this is even in Sanctum, have no idea where Emori is and what's happening to her... but probably nothing good.

Nothing good is happening to this guy, either. The way the lightning goes from sea green to red/purple suggests that something Anomaly-related may be happening here? 

Probably somewhere on Alpha:  A body (unconscious or dead?) being dragged. 

(A bunch of people are convinced it's Bellamy, which is weird, because this person's build looks absolutely nothing like Bellamy.  Or that it’s Gabriel, when this person is clearly nowhere near his height. This can only be him if they picked a body double extremely poorly. Though to be fair, there was that hilariously badly photoshopped season 5 promo image of Bellamy where they stuck Bob’s head on a body of some skinny guy with narrow shoulders, so IDK,)

Someone on a motorbike outside Sanctum. 

Please someone remind me who else can ride a bike. I know many of the people from Sanctum can and Clarke can because she picked up the skill from Josephine. Anyone else?

An unknown man taken captive by someone. He has similar Anomaly symbols on his forehead as Hope.

I’m pretty sure this is from the backdoor pilot (7x08 Anaconda) and these people dying from radiation are probably Second Dawn members who weren't among the chosen ones and went to Cadogan's decoy bunker.

Finally, this person must have died a sudden, instant and grisly death and quite a while ago. It could be another scene from the backdoor pilot - when the survivors got out off the bunker and saw the victims of the death wave. 

Or maybe someone who was caught in a temporal flare on Alpha, which almost happened to Octavia in season 6 before she hid in the live sand. But I don’t know if the temporal flare would have instantly killed them, or just aged them a lot until they die a little later. Death wave seems more likely.

[whatscallion]

rise: ch. v

//- A Medieval AU with the help of Anne who always encourages my muse to no end.

Chapter Summary: One of a few story arcs. The first one! The Demon Widow approaches Saint Johann, and she’s just not feelin’ it anymore. Enjoy!

Chapter Word Count: 1,742

Previous Chapters: Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four

Tagging: @cptsteven @blackberrywidow​ ( message / ask to get tagged! )

Ravens were perceived as harborers of every malady known to man, countless eons cementing every rumor and myth into place without recourse. The wake of every known tragedy rode on oil slick feathers, and yet their more prominent traits were forcefully ignored. Cleverness unmatched with intelligence to round out rough edges of an animal psyche, ravens were the masters of their own realms. Trickery and survival both intertwined beautifully to allow ravens an allotment in life unparalleled. It was this mastery of wits that proved to be integral to a plan in its lifelong journey to reality. One lone raven would change the course of history and lives through its own honed instincts and uncanny connection to an Instrument no more. Faith was displaced, the sliver of light within, precious in its scarcity, turned from the heavens above and onto oneself. Faith would begin in the actions and convictions of an enlightened being, held before an audience unknowingly. It would be now that the Widow Demon would become known.

The fire had started in simplicity, the obsidian bird having spent years upon years building tinder within the walls of the newly renowned Saint Johann. A man of the cloth in which God Himself spoke freely through, yet so few knew just how much of a fantasy that was. All it took was one push, one thought of sentience and deviation, and a kingdom hidden in the shadows of hulking monoliths would crumble as a leader fell. Natalia would see to it personally, though not for sentimental reasons. It was not for the death of her mother or her stolen life. It was not for the exile of Matthias or the killing of so many innocents. It was proof that the evil of man would become it’s own undoing through fundamentals and deadly flaws.

All it took was one push.

The moonless night brought a thick veil of the unknown to even the most open of areas, needing candlelight to grant safe passage even among the well known. But those who operated and dwelled within the seeping darkness would find their advantages heavy in this night. The Widow preferred to live this way, keeping eyes off herself in order to maintain an illusion of an enigma. She was meant to be a mystery, people doubting her very existence until her supposed wrath rained down upon them. Her reputation had been bolstered in the doubt of truth in her abilities. No one could be that good. No one could be that deadly. Rumors would be confirmed, just as she entered Saint Johann’s Cathedral, where he ruled over the low layers of society. His power was creeping towards the sun, and there was little standing in his way.

“My young Sister!” Johann bellowed from the altar, cheerful glee spreading a smile too wide upon his aging features. “I was having doubts of whether or not you were able to wash the sins of the Blind Nomad or not.” Natalia’s stride didn’t stop as she pressed forward down the center aisle. “Tell me, did you procure the Scripture?”

His question drew pause to her advance, finding it unnecessary to glance about her. It was easy to assume there were lesser Instruments surrounding her, all eager to make a name for themselves by tearing down the Widow Demon piece by piece. Johann was trying to read her as an exercise in futility. Natalia’s indifference ran through to the very core of her being, allowing so little to be gained at face value. It was unwittingly one of her most invaluable traits.

“Yes,” she answered firmly. Adrenaline was beginning its slow release into her system, causing hyper awareness to envelope her completely. The doors closed behind her, and the trap was set. It wouldn’t have mattered what she had done in those cold mountains. Her fate was sealed by the Hand of God’s own mercenary. Johann beckoned her forward, skeletal fingers curling before him, yet she remained steadfast in her unmoving ways.

“Bring it here, my darling.” The eagerness glistened like lamp oil in his beady eyes, hunger causing thoughts to salivate over the mere idea of finally obtaining that which should’ve been burnt ages ago and buried with the ideals of their forefathers. Hands remained loose despite the buzzing just beneath the surface.

“No.”

A glimpse was caught among the sudden flurry of darkly stained robes and sharpened steel, of Johann retreating to those secret chambers dreaded. So many Instruments had been added the ranks, most of which weren’t of the Three Bloodlines, and they all descended upon her with blind faith in a man who was no more than just that. The following felt too familiar, these sheep thinking they could take down someone with such a natural edge. The fundamental understanding of weaknesses and precision was not something to be taught, but something given. Natalia could only grant herself an instant of relief in the knowledge that Ivan resided at his manor and not the Cathedral like every individual she proceeded to slay.

In her own deceit and betrayal, the Widow Demon died away, forfeiting tenure and reputation with each Instrument falling by her hand. Specks of blood repainted natural freckles along her stoic features, exertion slow to rise as she cut down the masses who had strived to become a fraction of what she’d made of herself. This was not Ivan’s doing, but her own determination and strength that pushed her to stand upon hallowed ground. They were beneath her, and in this act of savage rebellion, it came to stand in bronze.

Fire began to lick up the tapestries and parchments adorning the walls, flames spreading within the infrastructure to burst forth with so little to stop it. Her raven, her guide, her true speaker of destiny. He had given the spark to bring this crashing down in an elegance to match her own grace. The deadly dance that only she could choreograph in brutal grace and ruthless finality was left unaffected by the volatile nature of the spreading fire. In order to get to those chambers, to the one she knew he retreated to, she must cut her way through pitiful emulations of herself. These fallen copies were innocent in their own right, the only sin they held was that of mistrust.

She had to work quickly as to ascertain safe passage out of the symbolized crumbling of an empire born of mankind’s evil. It didn’t matter now, how many she left alive or barely clinging to consciousness. Johann was where her fate lied, and the Widow made quick work of moving into the series of chambers stowed away behind the altar. Though she claimed to be the best, numbers had not left her unscathed yet the razor focus she now held was keeping frivolous things such as pain away from the forefront of her attention. Repercussions for this necessary deed would be contemplated at a later date, though Natalia was aware of the immediate reactions to her betrayal.

Steeped in the blood of her brothers, she pressed on with emerald eyes searching out every corner and turn to find the King of Liars. It would be in his own bed chambers she found him, attempting to stow away what few treasures he thought highly of. Materials that were given as offerings in the time of worship were selfishly taken as spoils of spiritual war, painting Johann’s privacy in decadent tones of gold and velvet. Three paces forward, and a blade had already pierced through him, her form pinning him to the floor to allow her to loom overhead with unrelenting fury burning as brightly as the cathedral itself. Crimson sputtered from his thin lips, disbelief shaping his face into something befitting that of a caught thief.

“N-Natalia...my- my sister.” The sound of her name slipping off his dying tongue forced the blade in further, her split lip curling into a heavy snarl so rarely seen by those surrounding her.

“Twist the name of God in your favor, Johann, and He will surely smite thee in time.” The dark voice she used was gritted with a proclamation itching to burst forth. “Did you not think you would fall prey to his wrathful ways? There are no exceptions, Demon.” The moniker so easily used on the Instruments was now turned upon himself, and the rebuttal was laced with anger as energy crumbled from the man beneath her.

“I am no Demon. I s-see your lies, y-you heathen! D-Daughter of a whore, I-I should’ve killed you w-with her.” The true colors of the archbishop were shining through, thick like tar and rancid in its show in the fire’s light. A small smile began to accompany the snarl on the Widow’s scarred facade, finding humor in the dying man’s words.

“You are no Demon,” she agreed. “You are The Destroyer himself, dear Brother. Tell me, Fallen One, if it is God who holds your fate in his hand, how is it that I hold it now?” Silence between the two was filled with the inferno pressing on beyond the chambers. Time was ticking away without mercy, yet Natalia couldn’t pull herself away from this moment, finding too much pleasure taken in the sinful decree of murder. Speechlessness from Johann was sipped upon much like an oasis in a never ending desert. This triumph would affirm her own past actions justified in more ways than one. Blood of the Lamb would be washed from her soul in the eradication of evil in His eyes. And yet”

“Look upon me, Johann,” she whispered, leaning down to become the only thing he could see. The light was dwindling in ice cold eyes glaring up at her, weight pressed further upon the weapon of his destruction, the length of it having now sliced clean through his chest. “I am not the Widow Demon. I am not your Instrument. I am not of your flock.”

Johann slipped into purgatory upon Natalia’s parting words, falling from her lips with unshakable conviction.

“I am God, Johann, and I have judged you unfit for my precious gift of life.”

O Holy Mother in Heaven, I beseech thee. Praised be unto the God Widow, for her wrath is swift and unending. Guide me, Mother, and I will follow the shadowed footsteps through the valleys and mountains.

O God Widow, I worship thee.

Look upon me, and tremble in sight of the God Widow.

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 2: The Bloody Pit (Transcript) - 23rd March 2015

tw: death, claustrophobia, racism (H. P. Lovecraft), ghosts

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

Most people are afraid of the dark, and while this is something that we expect from our children, adults hold onto that fear just as tightly; we simply don’t talk about it anymore. But it’s there, lurking in the back of our minds. Science calls it nyctophobia, the fear of the dark, and since the dawn of humanity our ancestors have stared into the blackness of caves, tunnels and basements with a feeling of rot and panic in their bellies. H. P. Lovecraft, the patriarch of the horror genre, published an essay in 1927, entitled “Supernatural Horror in Literature”, and it opens with this profoundly simple statement. “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown”. You see, people fear the unknown, the what-if, and the things they cannot see. We humans are afraid of the dark. We’re afraid that our frailness and weakness might become laid bare in the presence of… whatever it is that lurks in the shadows. We’re afraid of opening up places that should remain closed. We fear what we can’t see, and sometimes, for good reason. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

The Berkshire Mountain Range in Western Massachusetts sits in the very top left corner of the state. It’s not the Rockies by any stretch of the imagination, but in 1851, those hills were in someone’s way. The Troy and Greenfield Railroad Company wanted to lay some track that would cut through the mountains, and so they begun work on a tunnel. On the western end sat the town of Florida, with North Adams holding up the eastern end. Between those towns was about 5 miles of solid rock. This building project was no small undertaking, no matter how unimpressive the mountains might be. It ultimately took the crew 24 years to wrap things up, and came at the cost of $21.2 million. In 2015 money, that’s $406, 493, 207. See? It was a big deal. Monetary costs aside however, construction of the tunnel came with an even heavier price tag. At least 200 men lost their lives cutting that hole through the bones of the earth.

One of the first major tragedies occurred on March 20th , 1865. A team of explosive “experts”, and I use that term loosely because nitro-glycerine had just been introduced to America about a year before, entered the tunnel to plant the charge. The three men, Brinkman, Nash and Kelley (who, by the way, his first name was Ringo, which I think is just awesome) did their work and then ran back down the tunnel to their safety bunker. Only Kelley made it to safety. It turns out that he set off the explosion just a bit too early, burying the other two men alive. Naturally, Kelley felt horrible about it, but no one expected him to go missing, which he did, just a short while later. But the accidents? They didn’t end there.

Building a railway tunnel through a mountain is complex, and one of the features most tunnels have is a vent shaft. Constant coal-powered train traffic could result in a lot of smoke and fumes, so engineers thought it would be a good idea to have a ventilation shaft that extended from the surface above and allowed fumes and water to be pumped out. This shaft for the Hoosac Tunnel, as it became known, would be roughly 30ft in diameter, and eventually would stretch over 1000ft down and connect with the train tunnel below. By October of 1867 it was only 500ft deep. Essentially it was a really, really deep hole in the ground. To dig this hole they built a small building at the top which was used to raise and lower hoists to get the debris out, as well as a pump system to remove ground water. Then, each day, they would lower a dozen or more crazy, Cornish miners (not underaged kids, by the way, the other kind of miner) into the hole, and set them to work. You see where this is going, right? Please tell me that you see where this is going.

On October 17th, a leaky lantern filled the hoist house with natural gas, a naphtha, an explosive gas found in nature, and the place blew sky-high. As a result, things started to fall down the shaft. What things? Well, for starters, 300 freshly sharpened drill bits. Then, the hoist mechanism itself, and finally, the burning wreckage of the building. All of it fell five stories down the tunnel and on top of the 13 men working away at the bottom. Oh, and because the water pump was destroyed in the explosion, the shaft also began to flood. The workers on the surface tried to reach the men at the bottom, but they failed. One man was even lowered into the shaft in a basket, but he had to be pulled back up when the fumes became unbearable. He managed to gasp the words “no hope” to the workers around him, before slipping into unconsciousness. In the end they gave up, called it a loss, and actually covered the shaft. But in the weeks that followed, the workers in the mine frequently reported hearing the anguishing voice of men crying out in pain. They said they saw lost miners carrying picks and shovels, only to watch them vanish, moments later. Even the people in the village nearby told the tales of odd shapes and muffled cries near the covered pit. Highly educated people, upon visiting the construction site, reported similar experiences. Glenn Drohan, a correspondent for the local newspaper wrote that “the ghastly apparitions would appear briefly, then vanish, leaving no footprints in the snow, giving no answers to the miners’ calls”. Voices, lights, visions, and odd shapes in the darkness, all the sorts of experiences that we fear might happen to us when we step into a dark bedroom or a basement.

A full year after accident, they reopened the shaft, drained out all 500ft of water. They wanted to get back to work, but when they did, they discovered something horrific. Bodies… in a raft. You see, apparently some of the men survived the falling drill bits and debris long enough that they managed to build a raft. No one knows how long they stayed alive, but it’s pretty clear they died because they had been abandoned in a flooding hole in the ground. After that the workers began to call the tunnel by another name: the “Bloody Pit”. Catchy, right?

About 4 years after the gas explosion, two men visited the tunnel. One was James McKinstrey, the drilling operations superintendent for the project, and the other was Dr. Clifford Owens. While in the tunnel, the two men, both educated and respected among their peers, had an encounter that was beyond unusual. Owens wrote: “On the night of June 25th, 1872, James McKinstrey and I entered the great excavation at precisely 11:30pm. We had travelled about 2 miles into the shaft when we finally halted to rest. Except for the dim smoky light from our lamps, the place was as cold and dark as a tomb. James and I stood there talking for a minute or two and were just about to turn back when I suddenly heard a strange, mournful sound. It was as if someone, or something, was suffering great pain. The next thing I saw was a dim light coming along the tunnel from a westerly direction. At first I believed it was probably a workman with a lantern; yet, as the light grew closer, it took on strange, blue colour, and appeared to change shape, almost into the form of a human being without a head. The light seemed to be floating along, about a foot or two above the tunnel floor. In the next instant it felt as if the temperature had suddenly dropped and a cold, icy chill ripped up and down my spine. The headless from came so close that I could have reached out and touched it, but I was too terrified to move. For what seemed like an eternity, McKinstrey and I stood their gaping at the headless thing like two wooden Indians. The blue light remained motionless for a few seconds, as if it was actually looking us over, then floated off towards the east end of the shaft, and vanished into thin air. I am, above all, a realist. Nor am I prone to repeating gossip and wild tales that defy a reasonable explanation. However, in all truth, I cannot deny what James McKinstrey and I witnessed with our own eyes”.

The Hoosac tunnel played host to countless other spooky stories in the years that followed. In 1874, a local hunter named Frank Webster simply vanished, and when he finally stumbled up the banks of the Deerfield River three days later, he was found by a search party without his rifle and appearing to have been beaten bloody. He claimed he’d been ordered into the tunnel by voices and lights, and once he was inside, he saw ghostly figures that floated and wandered about in the dark. His experience ended when something unseen reached out, took his rifle from him, and clubbed him with it. He had no memory of walking out of the tunnel. In 1936 a railroad employee named James Impoco, claims that he was warned of danger in the tunnel by a mysterious voice, not once, but twice. I’m thinking it was Ringo, trying to make up for being an idiot. In 1973, for some unknown and god-awful reason, a man decided to walk through the full length of the tunnel. This brilliant man, Bernard Hastaba, was never seen again. One man, who walked through and did make it out though, claims that when he was in the tunnel, he saw the figure of a man dressed in old clothing of a 19th century miner. Again, not a kid. He left in a hurry, from what I’ve read.

Stories about the tunnel persist to this day. It’s common for teams of paranormal investigators to walk the length of the tunnel, although it’s still active with a dozen or so freight trains that pass through each day. There are rumours of a secret room, or many rooms, deep inside the tunnel. There’s even an old monitoring station built into the rock about half way through, though few have been brave enough to venture all the way there and see it. Those that have report more of the same: unexplained sounds and lights. Oh, and remember Ringo Kelley, our sloppy demolition expert who got his co-workers killed in 1865? Well, he showed up again. In March of 1866, one full year after the explosion, his body was found 2 miles inside the tunnel, in the exact same spot where Brinkman and Nash had died. He had been strangled to death.

Lore was produced by me, Aaron Mahnke. You can find a transcript of this show, including links to source materials, at lorepodcast.com. Lore is a biweekly podcast, so be sure to check back in for a new episode every two weeks. If you enjoy scary stories, I happen to write them. You can find a full list of my supernatural novels, available in paperback and ebook formats, at aaronmahnke.com/novels. Thanks for listening.

[siren-dragon]

Over the Horizon -- FFXV x Sinbad AU (Ch.1)

So a while ago, I saw a post about Eris from the Sinbad cartoon reminding everyone of Ardyn, and had to make a story. And now I have made a new story about it, enjoy! I recommend watching the DreamWorks Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas cartoon, as that is the basis I am using for the AU. ^_^ Tagging: @valkyrieofardyn, @maty-yami, @imaginationisme

Summary: Having left his home to become a pirate, Nyx Ulric one day bargains with a chaotic god that leads him onto an unforgettable adventure.

In ancient times, powerful gods walked amongst mankind. Many brought peace and prosperity to the mortals; who they often viewed as children that needed guidance. Others delighted in tormenting and terrorizing the innocents; enjoying the fear the humans felt when confronted with their power. However, when a god felt neither compassion or hatred for the mortals, they became bored.

And that was more dangerous….

 “Good morning to you, my dear pets!” A jovial voice crowed sweetly.

Within the shadows of the Abyss, monsters of various forms snapped teasingly at the feet of the man who walked soundlessly past them. He seemed unearthly despite the human appearance he currently held. Red-violet hair that was the color of wine moved as if being blown by an invisible breeze while golden eyes stared in delight at the large table that hovered in the air that gave off a faint glow. The man immediately disappeared in an instant, only to materialize closer to the table, gazing at what appeared to be a world map.

“Another peaceful day upon Eos it seems,” the man spoke with an insincere joy. “How…boring. Perhaps a change of pace would be best, must keep them on their toes after all.” He chuckled.

Glancing back at the map he paused, a large grin tugging at his lips as the man looked closer. “Well, well, well; what have we here? A sweet, innocent prince protecting a valuable treasure? Ah- and a selfish thief eager to claim a new prize.” Golden eyes twinkled with sinister delight before turning to the shadows, “my sweet Mindflayer, enjoy the hunt!”

The monster- daemon, roared in delight before vanishing into the darkness and out of the Abyss.

Across the ocean just south of Galdin Quay, a ship of the Lucian Royal Navy sailed the calm waters, with another ship right on it’s tail. Dark purple sails, nearly black, blew the smaller ship forward and to the prize that lingered within its targets hold.

“Alright boys, here is the deal.” A man spoke, this one with dark brown hair that was shaved on the sides. He paced in front of the crew like a general giving orders to soldiers. “The world’s most valuable treasure resides on that ship and is heading toward Insomnia… it’s a shame it’ll never get there.”

The all snickered, well aware of the heist they were about to perform. “After today, we’ll retire to Altissia for fancy food and beautiful women. So then, let’s get rich! Libertus!”

“You got it, Nyx!” The helmsman called back, spinning the wheel and pulling the pirate ship alongside their target.

“Let’s go Pryna!” Nyx called, taking hold of a robe and swinging across to the Lucian ship.

Immediately the siege had begun, with Crownsguard protecting against the pirates that were pillaging their ship. Quickly and efficiently Nyx unsheathed his twin daggers, clashing against several guards before incapacitating them and moving onto the next bunch. The ship fell easily and with minimal resistance, making Nyx rather happy that the heist had gone so smoothly. And to think Libertus thought something would go wrong.

“And onto the treasure….” The pirate captain paused, watching the remaining guard who stood in front of the treasure vault. An elaborate sword with a golden hilt was clutched in his hand as he dodged various attacks and retaliated skillfully against Nyx’s men. “…Noctis.”

Libertus frowned, “how long has it been?”

“…about a lifetime ago.” Nyx replied, walking up to the higher deck. “You know, you still fight like a handicapped moogle.”

“What the- Nyx?” Noctis spoke in confusion, leaving just enough of an opening for Nyx’s crew to apprehend him. “Nyx, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Um, working?” Nyx answered, breaking the lock off of the vault door. “And what about you, your Highness?”

“Just fine,” Noctis said tensely. “what happened to you? And where have you been?”

“I’m sorry Noct, but my livelihood comes first so- if you’ll excuse me.”

Nyx pushed open the door and walked into the darkened room, with Noctis following after. Within the small room stood a rather large geode, glowing a brilliant shade of blue and purple. An ethereal light seemed to linger within, making the large crystal seem more beautiful than any jewel Nyx had ever seen. The brunette pirate let out a long whistle of appreciation and moved to take a step forward, only to be stopped by the prince beside him.

“Nyx, we need to talk.”

“Heard about it, read about it…. never actually seen it.” He murmured before pushing gently past Noctis, “the Stone of the Six.”

“And it is being delayed on it’s way to Insomnia.”

“Now see, I hate to be the cause of that problem; but I’m gonna need the stone.”

Noctis scoffed, “seriously? You disappear for 10 years, show up out of nowhere, and then decide to rob me? Me, Nyx.”

“Noct…listen,” Nyx sighed, “we had fun; loads of it but…we were kids.”

“We were friends, you ass! And you’re not gonna steal the stone, not from me. And besides, the Stone of the Six protects all within Lucis; it has no other purpose.”

“Exactly. So, imagine how much people would pay to get it back.” Nyx replied, reaching for the giant gem.

Noctis immediately grabbed hold of Nyx, twisting him around toward the door while stealing one of Nyx’s daggers. He then stood before the crystal, twirling the blade expertly as he glared at his old friend. Nyx chuckled at the act, genuinely surprised to see Noctis so serious. “Come on now Noct, don’t try to be a hero.”

“Let’s see if you have the guts to go through me, old friend.”

Just before Nyx could draw his own dagger, the ship shook; sending both men sprawling to the floor. Head spinning, the two glanced at each other before rushing out onto the deck and beholding the scene that lay before them. A large Mindflayer had risen from the water, causing looks of terror to appear upon the faces of both crews. “Oh shit,” Noctis muttered in exhaustion.

Nyx glanced to his ship and back at the Mindflayer before sighing, “need a hand?”

“Only if you don’t run off unexpectedly.”

“Not likely at the moment, come on!”

Quickly the two sprung into action, with Nyx whistling loudly to attract the daemon’s attention. The beast turned to face him, screeching loudly before sending several tentacles toward him only for Nyx to dodge at the last moment. Immediately Noctis imbedded a sword into the monster’s appendage, pinning it two the deck of the ship before the two raced off and begun scaling the mast. Once reaching the top-sail, Nyx sliced a few of the supports before tossing the dagger to Noctis.

“You’re gonna need that.”

Noctis caught the blade with ease, “where are you going now?”

“To save the day,” Nyx grinned as he climbed onto the single rope that connected the main mast and the foremast of the ship. The Mindflayer noticed the movement above it and quickly moved to swipe at the pirate captain, only for him to land expertly onto the other sail. Retrieving his second dagger, Nyx swiped at the support ropes and looked to Noctis, showing the two wooden beams that were perfectly placed to attack the giant daemon. Raising each dagger, both men cut the remaining ropes; impaling the Mindflayer to the deck of the ship as it gave a final screech and moved no more.

“Just like old times, huh.” Noctis smiled, giving a friendly pat on Nyx’s shoulder.

“Heh, you could say that again- LOOK OUT!”

Shoving Noctis out of the way, Nyx winced in pain as one of the Mindflayer’s hands smacked into him, dragging him under the waves. “NYX!” Noctis shouted after him, held back by the remaining Crownsguard.

Further into ocean he fell, the water was cold and most of the light from the sun gone. Nyx could feel his lungs burning as they desperately sought for air as he tried to prevent water form filing his mouth. He could feel the pressure begin to crush his body as the dead Mindflayer dragged him closer to a watery grave. His eyes began to close and he took a breath only to discover he was breathing air, not the salt water of the sea. Nyx’s eyes snapped open as he looked around, standing in some sort of air pocket? No…a bubble?

“Oh, it’s just so unfair,” a deep voice spoke dramatically. “Today was meant to be a fine day; and now my precious daemon is dead and I still don’t have the crystal…...All thanks to you, Nyx Ulric.”

Nyx spun about to see a man with wine-red hair that seemed to blow in a non-existent breeze and golden eyes that all but glowed in the shadows that surrounded him. He was tall, even taller than Nyx, and held an aura that sent shivers down his spin. Slowly the man walked forward, making Nyx realize that he was bare-footed, with a smirk gracing his lips; painfully reminding the pirate of a couerl about to pounce on an unsuspecting chocobo.

“And who might you be?”

“Permit me to introduce myself properly, Ardyn: the God of Discord, at your service.” The man bowed in a flamboyant and dramatic fashion before he vanished in an instant, reappearing only a few feet away. “I don’t doubt you’ve seen my mural upon the Citadel walls.”

Nyx blinked in surprise, remembering the daemonic monster that he had seen once before. “Yeah…they don’t do you justice.”

“Indeed. Now then, about my daemon that you slew.”

“Um, I don’t suppose a heartfelt apology would tide things over.” Nyx replied, silently praying he’d manage to make it out of this alive.

Ardyn laughed as if Nyx had said a rather humorous joke. “Surely you jest! Nyx, you don’t have a heart. One of the few things we have in common.” He continued before vanishing once more, making Nyx glance about for the god. “So, I’m going to spare your life. However, there is one thing that you must do in return: get the Stone of the Six and bring it to me.”

“Yes well, I kinda had my own plans for it. Hold it for ransom, get rich; you know, typical stuff- Gah!”

Ardyn smirked, having startled Nyx by appearing right behind him. “Oh Nyx, you’re not very imaginative, are you?” He twirled one of Nyx’s kukri’s in his hands, making the pirate wonder how he got it. “Steal the crystal for ransom, and you’ll be rich enough to lounge on some tropical beach. Steal the book for me….and you can buy the beach, and the island….and the world.”

Nyx frowned, pondering the god’s words. “You let me live, you make me rich. Honestly, I don’t really see a downside; if you keep your word.”

“My dear Ulric, when a deity gives their word; they are bound for all eternity.” Ardyn replied, taking the kukri and slicing the dagger across his chest…right where the heart would be.

“Alright then, it’s a deal.”

“A wise decision. Now then, when you’ve stolen the stone; follow the star beyond the horizon. You’ll find yourself within the Abyss. My realm of chaos….” Ardyn grinned.

Nyx smirked, “the Abyss, see you there.”

“Looking forward to it,” Ardyn answered, suddenly appearing in front of Nyx in an instant. He raised the kukri for Nyx to take, only for the blade to vanish in his hands. “Deep breath now,” he said with a smile.

Water instantly wrapped around Nyx, causing him to gasp in surprise. Looking about the ocean, he then spotted the surface and immediately raced toward it. Ardyn watched from the shadows, smirking at the success of his bargain. “Humans…always so gullible.”

[ukhtinotes]

WHEN ADAM MET HAWA

The Purpose of Creation by Shaykh Aslam

A brief summary of his lecture, May Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ ala bless him and his life, for delivering such beautiful lecture. Masha Allah.

The first creation of Allah : Pen The pen was told to write, so it wrote.

The first creation of Allah Ta’ala that was sent to Earth: Adam and Hawa (as a pair)

The sole purpose was to regenerate offsprings just so to be reconnected and rejoice, to be the dweller of the Garden of Paradise.

“We will connect the children & parent in the Garden of Paradise”

Regardless of the condition of the children. Pious or not, Allah Ta’ala will grant them the same ‘rank’(darjat) as their parents– just as long as the parent and the children die with Imaan.

“ There is no conditions in rejoicing the children with the parent because a parent’s love for their children is UNCONDITIONAL; good or bad, they love their children nonetheless.”

Masha Allah, the mercy of Allah Ta’ ala. Indeed, He is All-Merciful (Al-Rahīm).

JUST AS LONG AS THE PARENT AND CHILDREN RETURN TO HIM WITH IMAAN.

//

The Purpose of Mankind: Worship Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ ala

The prophets were given scriptures to HIGHLIGHT the Garden of Paradise. i.e. Torah, Bible, Al-Qur’an Al-Kareem.

“I did not create Jinn & mankind except that they worship me”

“Worship” -> To submit oneself totally to Allah Ta’ ala. (desires, needs, wants, etc.) 

Worship also means to “recognise and know”

But indefinitely, mankind will ask: “But Allah, how do I devote myself to you in totality? I have mouths to feed, bills to pay, survive. I need to work in order to survive”

Surely, Allah knows mankind will question.

“And I do not want no mankind or Jinn to be the provider of risks”

Indeed, it is Allah who is the All-Provider(Al-Razzāq).

Fulfil your duty diligently to please Allah, and rest assured everything will be blessed upon you and be provided for you.

“If we die without recognising Allah, our entire life is wasted.” – Anon (mgbh)

//

There are people amongst us whom is the ‘friend’ of Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ ala.

How to recognise them: When you look at them, you will be remembered of nothing but Allah and His magnificent and perfection creation. You would look pass that person’s features, you look pass his name, you basically look pass him as a person, but Mashaa Allah, you will be reminded of nothing but Allāh Ta’ ala

They will have an “aura” radiating them.

It is because their hearts are drowned in Allah. It is their honour and dignity towards Allah that reminds you of Allah, through their face. It is when in their presence, you will try not to sin. you will try not do anything that is an act of disobedience for when you see their face, you are reminded of Allah and you fear displeasing your Creator. Mashaa Allah, magnificent.

“Its like a realisation of Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ala radiating on their faces” – Shaykh Aslam

Even if the ‘friends’ of God isn’t perfect, even if their actions and faith are a juxtaposition, what matters most is the love they hold for Allah Ta’ala, that is planted in the depth of their hearts.

“ Love patches the discrepancy of actions, but actions can never patch the discrepancy of actions. “ – Shaykh Aslam.

//

“ God gave mankind freewill despite it being predestined by Him” – Anon

It is true; God gave us a conscious mind and Imaan to pick between choices, be it good or bad, and each choices leads to a series of paths which leads to a never-ending series of paths; to think that every possible path are all predestined and written by Allah Ta’ala. Subhaan Allah.

Mankind will ask: “So if God knows what’s the good and bad of each path, why doesn’t He just lead us to it?”

It is only because He gave you a mind and Imaan to pick good and evil on your own. It is only because He wants you to choose your own path of life on your own, with the knowledge and mind He has blessed you with. So to speak, if you pick your own choice, and alhamdulillah you succeed, you will feel satisfied and contented, and you surely will say “I made the right choice”. Even if you fail in succeeding, it is still satisfactory for you picked YOUR OWN choice, YOUR OWN path.

//

The best thing is to submit in totality to Allah Shubanahu Wa Ta’ala (in regarding to the heart)

When you are in love: tired, sleepy, hungry will not be in your dictionary. You will not sleep just to spend every waking moment with the thing/person you love. You will not feel tired for them/it, anything just for them/it.

To be in love is like having a burning, warm sensation deep within the core of you.

The heart is the most consuming organ in your body. It is the core of you. Other organs, limbs are just accessories and is all working because of the main source; the heart.

The heart consumes anything & everything it is attracted to. Social-Media, Gadgets, Anything and Everything. As long as the heart is attracted to it, it consumes it.

Fasting of the heart is the righteous thing to do. That way, you safe guard and keep the purity of your heart.

“ Fasts your heart from anything & everything other than Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ala. “

Fasting of the heart is to detach your love from the temporary worldly wealth and the ephemeral pleasures of this world. For love towards the temporariness of this world is dissatisfactory and insufficient; which will leave your heart bereft and enmeshed.

Attach your heart to Allah. Submit yourself in totality to him. Quench your heart with the knowledge and wisdoms of God– The Al-Qur’an Al-Kareem. For Allāh Ta’ala is ever sufficient.

“ The heart is too precious to be given relentlessly. ” – Shaykh Aslam

Those that fasts the heart:

“ They played the richness of the dunya(present world) at their fingertips but they do not let the dunya play the richness of their heart. ” – Shaykh Aslam regarding millionaires who fasts their heart.

Nonetheless, that does not mean you can not enjoy the luxury of this dunya. Just remember that the paradise of this world is to recognise & know Allah.

“ Seek the Jannah of this world in hopes our path and journey will be directed and guided to the Jannah of akhirat (hereafter). All in the essence of Allah“  

Ameen.

The end of the 2h Lecture given Shaykh Aslam (mgbh)

Q & A:

1. Incest between first generation of Adam & Hawa children?

Ans: In those days, marriage between siblings are permissible/allowed in the sole purpose of regenerating, and repopulating.

Permissibility depends on time of accurance, Now allowed -> Last time forbidden Last time allowed -> now forbidden

2. Soulmates in Islam? YES. YES. YES. Soulmates exists.

Soulmates are souls that recognises each other and has an immense instant connection, despite never have met before. “Hey, I feel like I know you, met you before. But I can’t remember. Have we met before?”  Instant love. Unconsciously and unintentionally, the soul falls in love with each other. Soulmates do not necessarily happen between opposing gender. Soulmates exist in the same gender as well.

Those that are not meant to be with each other, no matter how much you try, you put in effort, there will still be disputes, constant fights. At times, it could be so drastic that when you see a person’s face for the first time, you are instantly repulsed and already generating a sense of dislike.

THERE ARE SOULMATES. Mashaa Allah.

3. How to guard/ purify one’s heart? Ans: KNOWLEDGE.

“ And know there is no GOD other than Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ala.”

intelligence VS. knowledge

KNOWLEDGE WINS.

“ Intelligence has limitations, whereas knowledge knows no limitations. Knowledge is like the ocean; its vast. “ – Shaykh Aslam

Allah is Al-‘Alīm (All-Knowing), HE does not have an akal (intelligence).

3 simple steps to guard/purify the heart: #1: Seek Knowledge #2: Practice acquired knowledge #3: Share knowledge

4. Was Adam taking the forbidden fruit the original sin? Ans: No.

A sin is making a firm intention of doing an act of disobedience that displease God.

Unintentional are not sins.

5. How do I keep my faith strong and firm while being in an environment that does not practice/ may affect my practice of Islam?

Ans: “ Be around the good company, and good will come your way ”

UNLESS

Circumstances that you are the only one in the household that is practicing Islam.

Do not worry about how They will affect you but rather think of how YOU can affect them that, with your practice can encourage or affect (positively) to your surrounding. Keep your faith strong, stay rooted no matter what comes your way. Allah tests those that HE loves. Inshaa Allah, He will grant you strength, for the right cause.

Sincerely, love Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ala.

disclaimer: These are derived from whatever I could afford to note down. And some are explanations are based on my own perceptions, but I do try to keep it vague and neutral. May Allah Ta’ala have mercy on me if I have wronged. May Allah Ta’ala ease your affairs, shelter you from harm, heal the hearts that are suffering in silence, and may HE be the sovereignty to your heart.

Assalamu’alaikum.

[archeryequipment2501-blog]

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Archery isn't only our company but it is our lifestyle. It's one of the oldest arts that's still practiced today. Learning archery in a club can be the most costly way to learn but on the flip side, you can be sure your progress will be a good deal quicker because there are.

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[mhboroson]

“World Without Ghosts”

(An essay by Chinese sociologist Fei Xiaotong, written around 1943 or 44)

Accepting an invitation from the University of Chicago, I went there to work on my book “Earthbound China.” After I arrived, a secretary showed me to room 502 on the fifth floor of the Social Sciences Building and asked politely if it would do for an office. When I noticed the name “Robert Park” in the brass card-holder on the door, the alert secretary hurried to say, “I was waiting until you decided before putting your name up.”

“Don’t change the name. I like that one,” I told her. But she could hardly have understood why.

Robert Park had been my teacher. He came to Yenching University [in Peking in 1932] when I was an undergraduate there. Though I was just an ignorant student, I absolutely worshipped him—except for the old man’s perverse insistence on teach­ing at 7 a.m. and never missing a class or even coming late, which meant I had to skip breakfast to get there on time. For better or worse, his course determined the direc­tion my life has taken in the ten-odd years since, and to him should go the credit or the blame. The founding father of the Chicago school of sociology, he maintained that sociology should take as its subject understanding human nature. Perhaps I liked him because he wanted me to read novels and not sociology textbooks. More than reading novels, he urged going and personally experiencing different kinds of life. Ten years later I still follow this teaching. On this trip to the United States, I had hoped to go hear his classes again. But I was busy with other things, and it was half a year before I got to Chicago, and the old professor had already gone south to escape the Chicago cold. And so it happened that I was put in his office.

This arrangement, whether accidental or not, was full of meaning for me. I had been an unremarkable student in Professor Park’s class, a matter for some regret, and ten years later, though still without achievements, I remained eager for a word of praise from the teacher. I was secretly happy that, sitting in the chair he had used, I would surely absorb something of his spirit, and hoped to write a book that would compensate for my earlier failure to be worthy of the pains he had taken in rising so early all those mornings to teach us. There is here a sort of historical causal connection: because of a past memory the present takes on a significance greater than anything in the current situation. My strong desire to have the name left on the door arose out of a need for concrete, living, moving history. I felt that if the nameplate, the old books lining the walls, even the air in the room were not disturbed, then, surrounded by this lingering past, perhaps in a few months I would see a draft of “Earthbound China” on the table. But if these were disturbed, all might be lost.

This, in fact, is the “tradition” of which I have written in an earlier article. Tradi­tion need not be an obstacle to innovation. True, it has its bad side. When old peo­ple, with the various privileges and respect that have been accorded them in the past, prevent any change in the status quo, that is a bad aspect of tradition. But it is also undeniable that everything new is born out of that which is old. These ties of kinship should not be obliterated, and recognizing them gives to the connection between old and new the significance of succession and continuity. If we can develop this kind of feeling for history, I believe the world and mankind will be richer. When we go on a trip into the country, we can enjoy the scenery merely as a present phe­nomenon; if we have left there earlier memories worth recalling, this can bring on a pleasant nostalgia; and if this is a historical site, our feelings arc further enriched because of what others did there. People do not live only in the here and now; life is not just a string of moments. We need history, for it is a wellspring of inspiration. When we take tradition in this way, that is another aspect of it.

Sometimes I think the world is very strange. We in the Orient accept tradition, but what we seize on is its bad side. The West seems to want to disregard it, with the result that the good side is lost too.

Of course, it is not entirely true that Westerners purposely disregard tradition. For the most part, they all know much more about the history of their own coun­try than I do. Every child who goes to New York has to go gaze at the huge Statue of Liberty and then on the way back visit the church that George Washington fre­quented. In Washington, D.C., there are the hundred-foot-tall Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and now the Jefferson Memorial. Buildings just a few hundred years old are preserved as historical monuments. On a personal level, Americans keep diaries and write autobiographies. I have elsewhere described how on Thanksgiving the year before last my host brought out a big pile of his fathers diaries. At Professor Redficlds house, Mrs. Park especially wanted me to see the pictures of Redfield ancestors in a corner of the living room. On Professor Ogburns staircase wall were neatly lined up generation after generation of ances­tor portraits. Perhaps because at a dinner party I had once expressed the view that Americans lack any feeling for history, all the friends I came into contact with were particularly anxious to correct my misapprehension by showing me their concern for their ancestors. All this is true, but still I feel their regard for tradition is to a greater or lesser extent conscious, intellectual, and artificial. It is not the same as ours. The reason I feel this way is that I have found Americans do not have ghosts.

When tradition is concrete, when it is a part of life, sacred, something to be feared and loved, then it takes the form of ghosts. This is equivalent to the state­ment by Durkheim that God is the representation of social cohesion. As I write this, I feel in my heart that Chinese culture in its essence is rather beautiful. To be able to live in a world that has ghosts is fortunate. Here let me relate some personal experiences.

When I was a boy, because the family was in decline ... we lived in a big old building of which at least half was closed off awaiting uncles who seldom came home, and in another part of which were dark rooms that had never seen sun­light. ... In these dark and desolate rooms, there were more places for ghosts than for people This environment was already sufficiently frightening, but in addi­tion not a day passed when people did not talk of ghosts to scare or amuse us children I am not exaggerating when I say that to a child like me brought up in a small town, people and ghosts were equally concrete and real....

Because I grew up half in a world of ghosts, I was particularly interested in them. Gradually my fear changed to curiosity and then to attraction, to the point that I even feel a little sorry for people raised in a world without ghosts. The thing that felt most strange to me during almost a year of living in America was that no one told me any stories of ghosts. I do not want to overpraise such a world, but I will admit that children who grow up in it are more comfortable than we and do not have to live with fear in their hearts all day long. But perhaps there is a heavy price for this, a price I would be unwilling to pay.

The beginning of my gradual change in attitude toward ghosts occurred the year my grandmother died. One day not long after her death, I was sitting in the front room looking toward her bedroom. It was almost noon. Normally at that time Grandmother would go to the kitchen to see how the lunch preparations were coming along, soon after which lunch would be served. This had been a familiar sight for me, and after her death the everyday pattern was not changed. Not a table or chair or bed or mat was moved. Every day close to noon I would feel hungry. To my subconscious mind the scene was not complete without Grand­mothers regular daily routine, and so that day I seemed to see her image come out of her bedroom once more and go into the kitchen.

If it was a ghost I saw, it was the first one in my life. At the time I felt nothing unusual, for the scene was so familiar and right. Only a little later when I remem­bered that Grandmother was dead did I feel upset—not frightened, but sad the way one feels at a loss that should not have occurred. I also seemed to realize that a beautiful scene, once it had existed, would always be. The present loss was just a matter of separation in time, and this separation I felt could be overcome. An inex­tinguishable revelation had struck; the universe showed a different structure. In this structure our lives do not just pass through time in such a way that a moment in time or a station in life once past is lost. Life in its creativity changes the absolute nature of time: it makes past into present—no, it melds past, present, and future into one inextinguishable, multilayered scene, a three-dimensional body. This is what ghosts are, and not only did I not fear them, I even began to yearn for them.

I cannot get used to people today who know only the present moment. To take this moment as [the sum of] existence is a delusion. Our every act contains within it all the accumulated history from the beginning of the universe right down to the present, and this every act will determine the destiny of endless future generations. If the present moment, fragmentary, abstract, false, is taken for life, this life will necessarily be shallow and base and even empty—since the moment cannot last, one might as well indulge oneself and revel, for when the instant is gone what is left?

American children hear no stories about ghosts. They spend a dime at the “drugstore” to buy a “Superman” comic book. This “Superman” is an all-knowing, resourceful, omnipotent hero who can overcome any difficulty. Let us leave aside the question of what kind of children this teaching produces; the point worth not­ing here is that Superman is not a ghost. Superman represents actual capabilities or future potential, while ghosts symbolize belief in and reverence for the accumu­lated past. As much as old Mrs. Park, trying to lessen the distance between East and West, might lead me over to the corner of the living room to look at faded photographs, it was the Redfields little boy who showed me the heart of American culture, and it lay in Superman, not ghosts.

How could ghosts gain a foothold in American cities? People move about like the tide, unable to form permanent ties with places, to say nothing of other people. I have written elsewhere of the gap between generations. It is an objective social fact that when children grow up they no longer need parental protection, and the reflection of this in the family is childrens demand for independence. Once when I was chatting at a friends house, his daughter sat with us chain-smoking. The father happened to remark that it was senseless to smoke like that, but she paid no heed and afterwards told me that she was eighteen, it was none of the old mans business, smoking was her own affair. Eighteen is an important age for a girl; after that her parents need not support her, but neither can they tell her what to do.

I also know an old professor whose son teaches in the same university as he but lives apart from him—which might be all right, but he seldom even visits. During the war they could not get a maid and it made my heart sick to see the professors wife, old and doddering, serving a guest coffee with shaking hands.

When I was staying at the Harvard Faculty Club, I noticed sitting at the same table every morning a white-haired old gentleman who lived upstairs and who from his looks was not long for this world. Whenever I saw him I felt outraged. He must have been a famous professor who had educated countless people and worked hard for society. Now old and failing, cast out of the world into this building, with­out relatives even to care for him much less give him pleasure, he might as well have been dead. One day he said softly to the waitress, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it down the stairs tomorrow.” Afterwards I asked her where his home was, but she did not know the answer and only shook her head. In America, when children grow up they have their own homes, where their parents are mere guests.

Outside the family there is certainly much social intercourse, but dealings with people are always in terms of appointments. On my office desk is an appointment calendar marked in fifteen-minute intervals with a space for a persons name beside each. Apart from business there are various kinds of gatherings, but if you go to one you will find it is no more than social pleasantries: a few words with this person, a few words with that one—it is hard even to remember their names. I cannot say all Americans pass their lives like this. But I once asked a fairly close acquaintance how many friends he had whom he could drop in on at any time without a previous engagement. Counting on his fingers, he did not fill one hand. In fact, unless they have business or an engagement they spend most of their time at home, where they don’t much like to be disturbed by guests. At any rate, friends warned me not to go barging in on people all the time.

With interpersonal ties like these, naturally they seldom see ghosts after death. Moreover their movements are so easy and they have contacts with so many peo­ple, that there seldom comes about the kind of relationship I had with my grand­mother, living interdependently for a long time, repeating the same scenes, so that these scenes came to seem an inalterable natural order. Always being on the move dilutes the ties between people and dissolves the ghosts.

As to attachments to places, that is another thing that made me uncomfortable in America. Not the beds and mattresses, for I believe there are none more com­fortable than those of the Americans, but the constant moving around that year was the cause of my discomfort. I visited many places, but when I think of them now it seems I went nowhere, for I felt no particular attachment to any place as all were alike, differing only a little in the height of the buildings. The cities are all more or less the same, at least for a traveler: you get off the train and your bags are taken by a black man who everywhere wears the same type of cap (you may not encounter this kind of man, but you will not encounter any other); you take a similar taxi to a similar hotel—no matter what hotel, if you have stayed anywhere once, you will not feel it unfamiliar. The hotel rooms are all comparable, some big­ger and some smaller, but none lacking a bathroom, a cold-water tap, a Simmons mattress, and nice stationery and envelopes. Since it is the same everywhere, you can never take away a particular impression from any hotel.

Hotels are not exceptions; it is basically the same with homes in American cit­ies. Moving house is no more difficult than changing hotels; a phone call is all it takes. Move here, move there—the houses are about the same. In New York I thought of renting a house and visited ten possibilities in succession. In the end I said to the friend who was accompanying me, “Why bother to see each one? Why not draw straws?” Moving here and there dilutes peoples ties with houses.

Whenever I return to my native place, I go to see the house I lived in as a child. I have lots of questions about the tung tree and the loquat tree; the tung tree still has my name carved on it. In London, where people do not move so frequently, I still remember where I lived on Lower Station Road and Ridge Avenue [?]; while I was in the United States I heard that the old buildings there had been bombed, and it made me feel bad for several days. In America, at least for me, no house has yet produced such a feeling.

I cannot get used to the way lights illuminate all the parts of a room either. Liv­ing in such rooms gives you a false sense of confidence that this is all of the world, that there is no more to reality than what appears clearly and brightly before your eyes. I feel the attitude of Westerners toward the unknown is very different from that of Orientals. They think of the unknown as static, waiting for people to mine it like an ore—not only not frightening, but a resource for improving life in the future. They are very self-assured. We Orientals feel some measure of reverence for the unknown; our reverence for fate makes us content with our lot, makes us aware of human limitations, and keeps our eyes fixed on the humanly attainable. I cannot assert that this attitude is ultimately due to the form of the houses we live in as children, but I believe that my own early feelings of uncertainty toward the big kitchen and the back garden and my fright toward the closed-off rooms have still not dissipated, but only expanded into my view of the universe. If many people in traditional China had similar experiences, then these experiences may have deter­mined the basic structure of our traditional attitudes toward people and things.

In a world without ghosts, life is free and easy. American eyes can gaze straight ahead. But still I think they lack something and I do not envy their lives.

 M. H. Boroson here. I don’t agree with everything in this piece, but I find it fascinating. I used a passage from it at the opening of The Girl with Ghost Eyes, and I wanted to share the rest of Dr. Fei’s brilliant essay.