#nobody has an incentive to keep him alive!

[transk0vsky]

Look I fundamentally understand why they’ve opted to remove survival/combat mechanics from p3 but like…I’m so sad that means I can’t occur a random bloodlust again!

[running-with-the-feels]

okay, just had a thought but like

nothing Kuai Liang has ever done has actually been his choice prior to like, maybe, the second half of MKX.

I mean, think about it, he's kidnapped by assassins as a child and tortured and brainwashed into becoming a weapon. He's told that he can't leave or he'll be killed and even if he could he has no one to turn to in the outside world bc they killed everyone else and his knowledge of it is limited by the fact that he's not been in it since he was a child and is only allowed out for missions. If he doesn't do what he's told, they will kill either him or his brother, that is the very definition of Under Duress.

And then he's cyberized and Literally has his autonomy taken away, along with his body which is Horrifying, and when he gets his autonomy back, he's in the middle of a war and has no real choice but to fight for his life no matter what he wants.

Then he dies, and becomes a revenant and while its unclear exactly how much control Quan Chi had over them, it's pretty heavily implied that it was a lot, kinda like a semi-autonomous puppet situation, and is again made to fight and kill for someone else.

Then he's resurrected, and almost immediately possessed by Havik who canonically took full control of Kuai Liang and made him kill a bunch more people.

Even once he's freed, going after the cyber initiative might count as his first choice, but they are also hunting him and constantly trying to kill him so idk if that counts and then he's just sitting in his temple, minding his own business, when Raiden sends him a bunch of people to train and we have no indication that Kuai Liang intended to reform his clan at all until this happened, Raiden made that choice for him.

the man has never had any true freedom to choose in his life.

Meanwhile,

Everything Hanzo has ever done has been fully his decision.

We know that Quan Chi lied to him about who killed his family, and I will give him a pass bc nobody would be thinking rationally in that situation, but also, why on Earth would you trust the fucking necromancer? why would you not try to ask literally anyone else if he's telling the truth EVERYONE KNOWS THAT QUAN CHI IS A LIAR. but hey, maybe Hanzo doesn't know that, so we'll give him a pass.

But then, he still choses to serve Quan Chi rather than seek Bi-Han out on his own, he still kills Bi-Han even when he has a Massive incentive (the elder gods bringing his family and clan back) to leave him alive, and he chooses to keep serving Quan Chi after getting his revenge.

He even admits in the MKX comics that he was never controlled, though we know he was manipulated and he's probs not taking that into account, so at the very least the majority of the blame for his choices is on his own shoulders.

He also chooses to try and kill Kuai Liang in those same comics even as the cryomancer is kinda begging for his life and pleading his innocence. And he kills Quan Chi even knowing that it will damn the rest of the revenants to staying in hell forever.

Like, I'm not saying Hanzo is evil, I find all of his choices Very easy to understand even if they're the wrong ones, its clear why he does what he does, but he still makes a lot of bad choices that hurt the people around him.

And it's just like, do you think they ever talk about that? Does that affect the way they see and understand each other? Do they bring it up in fights and then regret it immediately?

Idk, I just think it's a really interesting parallel between their two characters.

[apricottheapricat]

Btw i cqme up wit this questin yesterday but forgored to ask

For the royal trio + Zeph + Harold:

What is their reputation like among the ppl that dont know them personally?? How widely known r they??? Id assume theres at least rumours running around abt the zephy xD how is everyon perceived

Also heres plamka

Oookay thas a lot of people im gonna put this under a read more lol (but ty for the ask!!)

Starting with the royal trio:

Dawn: She had the reputation of being very sweet and honest, which for a queen was unheard of pretty unusual. And naturally she did lean into it aswell, it made her people see her in a more positive light and be more willing to listen and agree with her decisions. With how closely she kept the royal court by her side though there were a few rumors going around that she was relying on them for all her work, but nothing much ever came of it. She was a good queen in her short reign and most people remember her as just that.

Maeve: Polar opposite of deer lady, she was a pretty ruthless queen all things considered. She was known even to outsiders as a force to be reckoned with, which worked to her advantage in diplomatic matters as she (or, well, Arachne speaking for her really) could use it to easily get her way through intimidation alone. She was also somewhat known for her.. creative punishments if someone misbehaved, so ideas of revolting against her were always pretty quickly shot down. The air of confidence about her added to the intimidation factor as well, even if you hadn't personally met her before you could tell what she was like.

Arachne: She's seen as very cold and reserved, even for royalty standards, with less flair than the other queens and much more focus on running the kingdom than on public relations. The people knew her long before she became queen as a prominent member of the royal court, so not much has changed from then to now besides the lack of others to hide behind and speak through. To people she doesn't know personally so to basically anyone thats still alive she's a less cruel version of Maeve, similar in opinions and in the way she carries herself but not quite to the extremes Maeve went. Her citizens are just as distrustful of her as she is of them, public appearances are rather scarce and when they do happen it's never without serious reason. There's rumors about her motives and how she laid claim to the throne but still nobody dares oppose her, she can be just as intimidating as the queen before her when need be.

And moving on to the husbands:

Zephyr: Not as well known as you'd think, though all the locals have at least heard of him in passing. His job is an open secret between those around him, though since nobody (except his loved ones) knows the full context behind it the most common theory is that either the queen keeps him around so he doesn't kill her out of spite, or that they have a deal for reasons nobody is willing to ask either of them about. In general most people that are in the know view him as an amoral murderer, and thus walk on eggshells around him lest they get on his bad side. He doesn't seem to be regretful of what he does either which is just as unnerving.

Harold: People only know him as the local bard, there isn't anyone that doesn't know him personally who knows about his background or his life before coming to this kingdom. Ironically enough his curse is a much better-kept secret than Zephyr's job is, so the most people bring him up is when talking about Zeph instead. It does strike people as weird that this easygoing, cheerful guy would be married to the murderer of all people, but it's a pretty good incentive to not upset him either.

[spellwing777]

Secret third thing: Emhyr kinda-sorta adopts Morvran.

Listen, this man has recently lost his wife a child. Regardless of what he said about 'not really being in love with Pavatta' the man had planned to keep her alive despite how much easier it would have been to kill her. Despite how much of a political threat she could be if she rallied cintra behind her, despite how difficult it would be to keep his parentage of Ciri under wraps if she was alive to attest to it. Remember, he intended to have Ciri's kid take the throne-the incestuous one, which I can imagine is a surefire way to destroy your support if the nilfgaardians learn you fucked your own daughter) like, there is no good reason to keep her around and yet-

So, it's reasonable to say he's grieving, feeling guilty about her death while simultaneously angry at her for trying to kill him and leaving his daughter behind, the same one that he has known for the past year or so he'll have to rape to fulfill a prophecy-

Who, as it happens to be, is about the same age as Morvran.

Granted, a kid of people that probably definitely was a part of the plot that ended up killing your father and getting you cursed.

But, he's like, five.

For fucks he only just mastered tying his own shoes. He's only just out of the stage where he's learned not to eat inadvisable things like random rocks on the ground. This kid is presented to you and he can't quite say 'Emhyr var Emeris' and it's somewhat jarring because you half expect him to say 'papa'.

(Is it weird that you feel a deep sense of relief that he's considered a possible heir rather than considered for the executioners axe or the assassin's poison-

Or part of some fucking prophecy-)

Morvran often enjoys the emperors favor, rising quickly through the ranks and finding himself head of the military even, something that older and more powerful men had been passed over for. He's earned that spot though, because he's shown his loyalty and competence-

(But that's not the entire reason you promoted him though, is it)

-but that loyalty and competence is a double-edged sword. The wars against the north were incredibly unpopular from the very start. There was no economic nor security incentive for starting them-

(Yes, he's well aware that the wars make no goddamn sense except within the framing of that damnable prophecy, and trying to unify the areas that'd be on the front lines of the deepening cold for the incestuous child of his to guide to survival is like herding cats)

-and the only reason they've gone on this long is because of the rabid support from the peasants. The insurecctionist that Emhyr overthrew was in favor of treating peasants as, well, target practice. When you're before the watershed mark of 'tanks, planes, and gattling guns' giving the military the edge over the much more numerous civilians, peasant revolts are demonstrably deadly. The nobility know this. They know outright killing Emhyr is risking a revolt, but one they're willing to take if they absolutely have to, but then they're stuck with Morvran. Morvran, who built his whole thing around being a general. Who has the loyalty of the military because he's smart enough to actually apply strategy and not treat his soldiers like lemmings. Morvran, who's been more or less mentored by the white flame himself and is too loyal, too wise to nobility shannagins to let them get away with shit. They're only willing to hitch their cart to his winning horse in this race if he weilds the assassin's knife himself.

(Emhyr knows this, and it makes it even worse that he'd tried to hand the boy the blade only for him to blanch and refuse.

"There must be another way." damn him for getting attached

"...There might be." He says, and instantly regrets it because damn it, he let her go at stygga, he let her be free and happy however short of a time that'd lasted.)

Nobody's sure where she is, but planting a few rumors buys them time at least. It's an enticing bone to the nobility because this little hope has grown up far from his influence, and considering the debacle that'd happened at her home, probably has a vested interest in assassinating him very publicly and bloodily. Even should she let him live she's not exactly going to be chummy with him, if not outright scornful. Being the actual heir to the throne even over Morvran she'll garuntee Emhyr influence is cut off from it. And Morvran, being the most eligible match for her, can operate as consort within the obfuscating shadow of her anger at Emhyr.

("If she's convinced to take it." Morvran's doubtful.

"Then I will convince her.")

Will Morvran marry only Ciri? Any other options?

Lets assume Morvran wants the throne. The way I see it, Morvran has three options here (just like Ciri, eh 😁):

The Emperor Consort ending - He could play nice with Ciri, treat her with reverence and respect, safe in the knowledge that he is probably her best political option (Cerys is a gamble, given her status as an outsider to Nilfgaard. Jan Calveit I've always headcannoned as an Uber twat. And no other politically prominent young Nilfgaardians (who are still alive) are ever mentioned, so one must assume Morvran is the best of the bunch).

The Ally Ending - Let's say Ciri does end up marrying someone else (Cerys, for example 😍), Morvran could hold his status and power in Nilfgaard by being Ciri's ally. A close confident. A friend, even.

In both these cases, he is going to have to work at winning her trust, and gaining her respect.

If he fails at this, there is a third ending.

The Bitter Ending - Morvran decides to be a bitter bitch about the fact that someone else is on the Nilfgaardian throne. Ciri fucks him up. The End.

[luigra]

Reposting this character analysis from Discord until someone hears my yelling

I'm straight up worried for the future of Jack, because with every stream he's digging a hole for himself that goes deeper and deeper. His only purpose in life is to get his revenge, and his anger is the only thing keeping him alive, but that is an inherently flawed goal, that if he ever realizes that it's unachievable, he will lose all meaning of life. He was doomed from the start.

He's already realizing that Tommy never cared for him, but he goes deeper and deeper into denial. His "revenge" is not about murdering Tommy, we've seen how his death affects him, it's about getting recognized, getting an apology, getting SOMEBODY to AKNOWLEDGE him and his pain in any way. But there is no one that ever does, especially not when he antagonizes Tommy, someone who people would be deeply uncomfortable and ostricized for going against.

And you can't even say that just because Tommy doesn't care nobody else will, because even if there is potential and even if they could, even wanted, Jack doesn't know. Everyone he's ever met dismissed his anger at him the same way, so he no longer has an incentive to reach out.

And it was SO PAINFUL to watch him have the realization in his eyes, to reveal for a second the suspicion he's always had that it's an impossible goal, and there was a real window of opportunity when he opened up to Hannah, but she only gave him another push towards complete denial. Jack's in denial about a lot of his emotions - fear, insecurity - he built up that wall between him and his rationale to pursue doing this inherently self destructive behavior.

And every single other element in that stream only reinforced those concepts. He quite literally blew up something that was such a huge part of himself just to try and show people he's in need of help. He's a broken mug that tries to break himself even further so that people would notice the cracks, but to them, he's just a dangerous shard or an inconvenience or something to sweep aside.

And god, he does everything he can to climb out of this living hell. He keeps saying reaffirming things and tries to take the direction of not caring about what people think. He tries to invent himself a purpose. He could genuinely heal so fast with how eager he is to get better! But it's like the walls of this pit are so smooth there is nothing to grab, cold and unmerciful walls. So he keeps punching them in hopes of carving out an edge to grab. And he only breaks his own bones harder.

I fear the day he sobers up and takes a step back to see this cycle always circling back in on itself, and loses that fire of hope he had. I worry he's in too deep to have a satisfying ending. It's not yet too late, but if he delves too far into his obsession with revenge, it very well could be.

[heliads]

Secrets Kept

Based on this request: “thomas x reader and one of the other people are being rude and they slap her and they get all worked up and mad? (maybe the person is making fun of her because she got attacked by a griever (she’s a runner) and minho had to help, but minho also stands up for her)”

masterlist

You’ve been running in the Maze for maybe an hour, maybe more. It’s not long enough. It’s funny how every morning, you wake up and manage to convince yourself that being a Runner is easier than you think, that you’ll be able to keep moving endlessly and never have a problem with it. You seem to forget how hard your job is overnight, but you’re reminded of it every single morning. To be honest, you’re not sure what you expected when you signed up to be a Runner in the first place, but the constant exhaustion is just one of the side effects.

That being said, you wouldn’t trade this job for anything. A slight grin appears on your face as you look around you, tilting your head up to feel the breeze whipping around the corners of the Maze. Your mind is turning, thinking of ways to remember every hall and corridor that you cross. Beside you, your running partner turns to you, eyebrows raised over your apparent delight. This causes Minho’s attention to be focused solely on you, which is why he doesn’t notice your boyfriend, Thomas, appearing down a nearby corridor.

Your eyes widen imperceptibly. Thomas isn’t supposed to be here, not at all. You joined the ranks of the Runners a long time ago, way before Thomas even showed up here and wanted to risk his neck with the rest of you. That meant that he would be a part of a different pair of runners, one that wasn’t you and Minho, and that he would be assigned a completely different part of the Maze to run for today. Ever since the Gladers discovered that different sectors of the Maze opened at different times, they carefully divided each sector into runnable routes that were parceled out to the various pairs of Runners. Basically, all of this means that you shouldn’t once see Thomas during the entirety of your daily run, yet here he is now.

You think you know why he’s here, though. Your theory is proven when Thomas stumbles to a halt mid-step after realizing that Minho is seconds away from discovering you, and quickly stumbles behind a wall of the Maze for cover. When he peeks out again, he’s got a smirk on his face that tells you that the added danger of getting caught is only making him more willing to risk discovery.

Why is he here, then? Well, it’s probably because you’re dating Thomas, or at least you have in secret. Once you showed up to the Glade and became the first girl to add to their numbers, Alby set in motion a rule that none of the boys could even come near you. They could be friends all they wanted, but the second they looked at you with a desire for something more, they’d be thrown in the Slammer before they could say ‘I escaped the friend zone’. 

You’ve been perfectly fine with this rule. There are enough gaping boys in the Glade that make you more than alright that Alby gives any flirting slintheads a death glare. However, when Thomas showed up, you just couldn’t stick to the plan. He was kind to you, and it seemed like he was the first one to truly listen to you for a very long time. When you spoke about anything, when you even so much as sat next to him, Thomas would look at you with this soft smile that made you want to reach over and kiss him right then and there.

You’d been afraid to do something, at first. What if you misread something and suddenly it was you crossing his boundaries as opposed to any one of the Gladers with you? Then, one night at the Bonfire, Thomas had been walking you back to the Homestead when he’d turned to you with this look in your eyes, one that made you shiver slightly despite the heat of the dark hour. He’d asked if he could kiss you, voice low and rumbling in the shadows, and you’d barely been able to nod your head yes from the thrill of it.

Ever since then, you’ve been happy enough to consider him your boyfriend. The problem is that Thomas still technically isn’t supposed to be seeing you, and the only way you can kiss him is if the two of you sneak out to the Deadheads or find time when nobody is around to reach over and wrap your arms around him. These come with an unsurprising rarity, as the Glade is practically overrun with shanks with little to no concept of personal space and privacy, so you have to make do with what you have.

This means that on days like today, when Thomas had been held back from seeing you even into the late hours of the night, he’s willing to stretch some rules and come find you himself. So, you turn to a still unsuspecting Minho, and gesture for him to go forward without you. “Tell you what, I’m going to fix my shoe. I think there’s something in it.” Minho starts to say something about how he’ll wait for you, but you hurriedly wave his concerns away. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

Minho hesitates one last moment then shrugs, turning to keep running. You watch him go, afraid to make the slightest of motions towards the general area behind you where you spotted Thomas, lest your running partner suspect something and come back to you. Minho’s just disappeared around a corner when a pair of hands descend on your hips, spinning around to come face to face with Thomas, who’s wearing a particularly proud grin at the look of surprise on your face.

You reach forward to smack his arm. “Slinthead. I thought a Griever was sneaking up behind me.” Thomas just laughs. “I don’t think Grievers look this good.” You try to hold back a laugh of your own. “Good to know that your pride hasn’t been hurt by you bending the rules all the time. We could get caught, you know.” Thomas just lifts a shoulder in dismissal. “I’m dating the prettiest girl in the Glade. I’d say that’s worth going behind Alby’s back.”

You fight to keep heat from rising to your cheeks. “The prettiest girl in the Glade? Thomas, I’m the only girl in the Glade.” Thomas smirks. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Just accept the compliment, Y/N.” You open your mouth to protest, but you’re effectively silenced when Thomas leans forward to kiss you. Suddenly, all of your complaints are evaporating into the hot air of the Maze.

You allow yourself a few minutes of this before you reluctantly bid Thomas farewell. Despite being able to throw Minho off your tail for a little while, you can only ‘fix your shoe’ for so long before the boy starts to suspect something. When Thomas finally lets you go with a goodbye kiss and you jog down the labyrinthine corridors in search of your running partner, you do so with a smile. How’d you get this lucky?

You find Minho after a little while, who offers up a few joking criticisms about how long it takes you to tie your shoes. You bear these with a smile, knowing that your real reason for being late is something that far outweighs any of Minho’s sarcastic comments. The two of you run for a little longer before heading further into the center of the Maze. It is only there, once you’re as far away from the Glade as you could possibly be, that you realize that something is wrong. It feels as if you’re suddenly not alone, that you and Minho aren’t the only ones lurking in these corridors.

Seconds later, something heavy comes to an abrupt stop in front of you. You and Minho rear back in identical shock, staring at the Griever, the one that’s just jumped down from the walls of the Maze to land a few feet ahead of you. You gaze at it unthinkingly, unable to move a muscle despite all of your body screaming for you to run. “How is it here? I thought Grievers weren’t supposed to come out during the day!”

Minho gulps beside you. “They’re not, but this one’s here anyway. Run!” That’s all the incentive you need for your legs to start working again, and the two of you turn and sprint in unison. Your feet are pounding down the ground, your body focused on the sole goal of surviving. You thought you were tired before, but all of that exhaustion is gone now, replaced by an intense adrenaline rush that leaves you feeling as if you’ve got all the energy in the world.

You race around corners and down straightaways, your breath coming hard in your chest. Despite the fact that you’re running as fast as you can, you almost get the feeling that the Griever is toying with you, not going after you with as much force as it could truly muster. Indeed, once you’re almost to the final corridors separating you and the Glade, it seems to draw back, disappearing into the halls of the Maze once more.

You turn to Minho, gasping for breath after your abrupt sprint. “What was that about? Why did it stop?” Minho shrugs, hands on his knees for any kind of support. “I don’t know. Maybe it wanted to stop us from going too far. Maybe we were going to see something that it didn’t want us to see. All I know is that I’m pretty shucking happy that we’re still alive.” You manage to limp over to him, slapping him on the back. “You can say that again. Let’s go tell Alby that we’re the two unluckiest shanks in the Glade to stumble upon a Griever in the middle of the day.”

Alby is, unsurprisingly, stunned by this news. This contradicts everything you’ve thought of the Grievers and the Maze before today. No matter how strange your living situation in the Maze is, the rules have never changed- Grievers come out during the night, and the night only. No one has any idea what to think now that this has changed, and to be honest, no one really wants to think about what happened. In the end, Alby decides that there’s nothing you can do about it except tell everybody to be careful.

As a result of this, you see a lot of somber faces around the Glade that afternoon. Everyone’s clustered into tight groups, talking in hushed voices about obviously critical topics that no doubt revolve around your little Griever incident. When Thomas comes back from his run in the Maze, you see his face fall in an instant when he hears what happened. He starts to come your way, expression twisted with concern, but you shake your head once. Technically, you’re not supposed to know Thomas that well at all. Let Newt handle him- despite everything, you still can’t blow your cover and reveal to everyone that you’re dating.

Still, the anxious mood persists around the Gladers. Gally eventually gives in and asks Alby for a Bonfire Night, which the older boy approves. This is basically just an excuse to light things on fire and pass around Gally’s suspicious brew, but everyone’s so keyed up over what just happened that Alby decides everyone needs a night to have fun. Once the glasses of amber liquid start getting passed around, though, you begin to think that it might not have been such a good idea after all.

Once fear mixes with Gally’s concoction, people start getting louder, their friendly punches in the fighting ring less charming and more antagonistic. You decide to leave early, already tired of the signs pointing to the fact that this night will not be going well. However, you’re barely taken a few steps away from your seat before one of the more drunk Builders stops you in your tracks.

“Where are you going, Y/N? Running away again?” You raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” The Builder scoffs. “We all know what happened with the Griever. You saw it and ran away. Big bunch of nothing for someone who’s supposed to be one of the bravest Runners we’ve got.” You fold your arms over your chest incredulously. “Then feel free to take my job. I’m sure all of your experience stacking bricks will help you deal with a monster as tall as a house.”

The Builder’s smug smile drops. “Are you calling me a coward?” You snort. “I’m calling you weak. Get out of my way, I don’t want to deal with you tonight.” You move to walk past him, but the Builder just shifts to block your way again. “Like shuck. You don’t get to call me weak.” You stare back at him, feeling anger starting to rise up in your chest. “And you don’t get to call me a coward. You wouldn’t know bravery if it hit you over the head.”

This is probably a bad idea, you know that. This thought is proven correct when the Builder’s hand moves in a blur across your field of vision, and seconds later, your hand is coming away from your nose. There’s a streak of red across your fingers that tells you that he’s hit you hard, harder than he should have for what was supposed to be a friendly bonfire night.

Already, there are outraged shouts coming from around you, Gladers already starting to come to your defense. The loudest one, though, is from the boy who’s already by your side. Somehow, you’re not surprised that Thomas is already here. He probably would have punched the guy already, were it not for the fact that Minho and Newt both are holding him back. “Don’t you dare hit her. Don’t you dare.”

The Builder chuckles, although you can tell that he’s afraid. “What are you going to do? Hit me? We’ll just be together in the Slammer.” Thomas stops fighting against Minho and Newt, fixing the Builder with a death glare that makes the boy flinch. “You wish. Were it not for the fact that I actually give a damn about what’s supposed to happen around here, you’d be on the ground, trust me.”

The Builder raises an eyebrow, trying to add to his tough-guy demeanor in the hopes that it’ll cover up for the fact that he’s slowly trying to back away. “What do you care about what I do? This doesn’t concern you.” Thomas takes a step forward, and the Builder practically shrinks back. “Actually, it does. Y/N’s braver than you could ever dream of being. Do you know what it’s like to come face to face with a Griever? The fact that she’s not dead should tell you something about how tough she is. And yes, this does concern me, because she’s my girlfriend.”

Silence falls around the Bonfire at Thomas’ words. He glances over at you now, realizing what he’s said. “Surprise.” You laugh in spite of yourself. “Well, it was going to come out eventually.” You reach over, slinging your arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s let Alby deal with this slinthead. We’ve got better things to do.” Thomas allows himself a grin, moving away with you. “That we do.”

maze runner tag list: secret bestie @underc0vercryptid​, @ellobruv​

[scorpia-is-babey]

Schrodinger’s Scorpion Kingdom

ALT Title: 

An Essay Detailing Why I Don’t Believe in Either Theory of Hordak Wiping out the Scorpioni, or that the Former Scorpioni Gave Up the Kingdom Willingly 

I often jokingly say that Scorpia’s backstory has to be the most convoluted, jumbled mess of a character I have ever had the misfortune of simping... Uh, I mean, analyzing for. I’m not the type of nerd to get spoon fed information without chewing on it first. Whenever I try to chew on the idea that Hordak miraculously brought the Scorpioni to their knees, or if he was simply given the Runestone and kingdom, I can’t really come to any agreement. Both are equally ridiculous if we sit down and dissect them. 

Firstly, we are shown very clear evidence that the Horde (and by extension Hordak) had overthrown the kingdom (that popular screenshot of a few Scorpioni laying face down on the ground, the Black Garnet looming in the center). But there’s never any further explanation about that. How he might have rallied these brand new troops and given them armor; the early bits of technology he used; how he could have possibly discovered that the Black Garnet was a noteworthy piece of power; what the previous relationship between the Horde and Scorpioni was... 

Scorpia’s takes or explanations on any of this doesn’t and will never count. She is not only a heavily biased party, but she isn’t a primary source of information. Force Captain Orientation, and therefore, Hordak, is the easiest answer to look towards regarding how she knows the things she knows. Scorpia is always a secondary source of information and it is impossible to take her word for whatever happened before she was born. 

The main, primary source we do have is Light Spinner.

Light Spinner was watching the attack in real time and showed young King Micah. Her actions in “Light Spinner” (S2, E6) are desperate and urgent for that reason; there’s no time to be wasted. Through her and the narrative, we have a little bit of information on the Scorpioni, and we can conclude a few things about them: 

1) They were doing well for themselves at some point. The entirety of the Fright Zone belonged to them, and there are even larger areas that the audience only gets to see once (Horror Hall) that would suggest opulence. Runestones are the deciding factor of a Princess of Power as well (these being the Elemental Princesses, the fact that there’s canonically only a handful of them). All of the Princesses of Power have very large kingdoms (i.e. Kingdom of Snows, Salineas, Bright Moon, and Plumeria). 

2) Nobody gave up anything. If the aforementioned screenshot of the Scorpioni people laying face down on the ground and the looming Black Garnet being tied up wasn’t enough incentive to not believe that this was a peaceful treaty, I bring your attention to the fact that Light Spinner was keen on joining the Horde. She was accepted on the basis that she would be able to use the Black Garnet. 

This random Mystacor sorceress, and not, say, the Black Garnet’s actual Princess. 

3) They were not an obscure kingdom. Hordak’s arrival was common knowledge. Narrative wise, we don’t get to know this until Catra knows this. Just because Catra doesn’t know it, doesn’t mean that it isn’t a general fact. If there are only six elemental princesses in their entire known world, it would be jarring if the Black Garnet’s Princess was forgotten only after a few years since Hordak’s arrival. 

We also don’t have extra confirmation from Light Spinner this time, but from the fact that Scorpia gets a Princess Prom invitation in the Fright Zone. They know where to mail it. They know where Princess Scorpia resides. 

Who is “they”?  

Canon doesn’t give us an answer to that. For the sake of continuing this point, we’re going to put a pin in it. Leave it for another day. 

With all of these inferences of the former Scorpioni Kingdom, this leaves us with the idea that Hordak’s rule over them was, unsurprisingly forceful... 

Somehow. 

This character spends the majority of his time pursuing his own personal goals. He wants to rejoin Horde Prime by opening a portal and taking the entire Horde army into Etheria to conquer it. When he does end up doing this, it’s with the help of Catra, Entrapta, and indirectly, Scorpia. 

He needs repairs to his armor eventually, which Entrapta helps him with; he needs Shadow Weaver to keep the soldiers in line as his second in command; he needs Catra after Shadow Weaver to take that second in command position which she absolutely succeeds in more than either of them could ever have... 

How does Hordak overtake the Black Garnet without these characters and resources all of those years ago? Where does he get these soldiers from? Why are these soldiers strong enough to conquer a fully capable, thriving kingdom? 

One idea floating around in the fandom space is that the Scorpioni were as non-confrontational, jovial and charismatic as Scorpia is shown to be, therefore allowing themselves to be conquered. That idea is not only unlikely, but it is admitting that somehow Scorpia would have met her people and known them well enough to pick up those traits. If not anything else, that claim is entirely ridiculous. 

Although we see Scorpia in a picture with her mothers as an infant, it’s unlikely that she got to know them either and pick up on their traits. There is never any mention of them verbally and no confirmation if they are dead or alive. Scorpia’s mothers not making an appearance or even being mentioned implies that they are dead, but, again, that’s never confirmed... Instead we can conclude that the mother with the Black Garnet connection is, at the very least, disconnected from it. When Glimmer is crowned as Queen and she no longer has to share the Moonstone with Angella, she gets all of its power. When Scorpia connects with the Black Garnet, she gets all of its power. She is not sharing any of its power with anyone at that point. 

...

This leaves me, annoyingly, left with more questions than answers. With Scorpia being my favorite character, I am constantly writing, drawing, and discussing her. This makes me acutely aware that she’s got one of the most plot hole-inclined, nonsensical backstories of the entire cast. It spills over into Hordak and the Scorpioni plotline, too. 

Fortunately, since I don’t believe in either “Hordak conquered the Scorpioni”, or “the Scorpioni gave up the Black Garnet willingly”, this does nothing to affect how I perceive canon, Hordak, or the Scorpioni. 

After thinking about and writing it all down, I genuinely do not care about Scorpia’s background anymore. I will make decisions based on her background when the opportunities arise in discussion or fanfiction writing. Both Scorpion Kingdom theories are ridiculous, leaving us with this paradoxical theory: 

“Schrodinger’s Scorpion Kingdom Theory”, is realizing that this plotline doesn’t make sense, and then deciding to fill in your own spaces where it best suits your own understanding of the narrative —because the original explanations are both plausible and implausible, given what we know from the canonical facts. 

[viinas-writes]

Irrevocable

Written for the Noragami Zine “Millennium” Words: 1187

War, by its very definition, is devastatingly human. 

Bishamonten is everything but. 

Empathy and regrets are left on the lethal stretch of land between trenches while those with everything to lose fire at the stragglers on no man’s land just to stay alive. The battlefield is its own hell, but worse so, it’s bookended by pain. Vengeance, desperation, and a desire for peace all at once are often the beginning of war. Hands emptied of everything but the blood they spilled are always the end. 

War, by its very definition, is as much a thief to those who lose as it is a hollow charity to those who survive. 

In the end, nobody wins, do they? 

Humans taking each other’s lives is inherently wrong. It is not their place to pass judgment on one another. A battlefield lacks empathy because it’s where humans are allowed to play God. 

And a god is never wrong. 

That is what separates Bishamonten from those in the trenches. Her empathy is stored inside every single one of her blades. She doesn’t fight for money or for pain or even a desire to stay alive. A goddess doesn’t have use for anything so human. 

Ostensibly.

The one thing that anchors Bishamon’s heart to the near shore is her ability to feel pain. No, her similarity to humans does not lay in her fear of death but her fear of loss. It is only when she encounters the god of calamity that she realizes, for the very first time, what kind of pain draws humans to the battlefield. 

For Yato, she can forsake her empathy too. 

__ 

But first, it hurts.

The grief carves into her with insistence, as if pain is her heart’s method of memorializing the family she lost. None of this is right, nor is it fair to their sacrifice for her to eulogize them with such remorse.

“Good morning, my lady.”

I failed you. I’m so sorry.

“Goodnight, my lady.”

I named wandering spirits gone too soon, only to have them suffer again.

“Good morning, my lady.”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

“Goodnight, my lady.”

How can I save wayward spirits when all I know how to do is let them die?

“Good morning, my lady.”

Again.

“Goodnight, my lady.”

Again. And again. And again.

“Good morning, my lady.”

Sunlight filters in through the windows and she hears the gentle creak of wood bending under footsteps. The days don’t amount to much when they’ve existed infinitely before today, and will exist infinitely after. She will still be Bishamonten as she is now.

She’s a god of fortune tainted by calamity. 

For the first time in weeks, she follows the voice leading her into each new day. She finds liquid-brown eyes and a face etched with worry lines. Her gaze falls to the name branded onto his delicate hand.

Kazu.

“Kazu...ma,” she croaks, the last syllable cursed and haunted. 

She reaches for his hand, tracing the edges of the kanji that illustrates the name she gave him. She closes both of her hands around his. The intimacy of where their skin connects makes her heart race.

“Kazuma,” she says again, the last syllable a precious relic. 

His hands are so warm; he feels alive. She brings them up and presses her lips to his fingertips. Electricity sparks between them. A fire comes to life in her chest, and the flames lick against her bones and ignite her veins.

Kazuma’s chest hitches and his skin flushes a beautiful shade of scarlet. In that moment she remembers he’s so young, at nineteen years old, dead at what should have been the very beginning of his life. The unfairness of it is why she named him, why she vowed to protect him. 

You’re all I need, she thinks. My precious Choki. My second chance.

 __   

Kazu is a gift from her soul to his body. 

Viina is the gift that binds the two together. 

When he gives her this name and she calls him in turn, something feels different. He comes to her in a flash of gold, a rush of warmth, a loyalty so honest that it sinks into her own bones. They intertwine and find purchase on each other’s strength.

         She pulls.

         He steadies.

         They look up and watch the light fall away in a rain of embers. She feels the ground beneath her as if she is spiritually anchored to the earth. A welcoming pull from her spine to the near shore.

         This is peace.

         This is right.

         Choki is no longer a nail piercing her skin, but an elegant cherry blossom earring whispering in her ear. He is brimming with confidence in them both. Their souls come together in a resonance reserved for those who have been hurt the same ways, loved the same amount.

         Bishamonton and her hafuri.

This is how they move forward together.

__

 “I’m sorry, Viina.”

They fall to their knees and his blood is warm against her skin. His name flutters. She winds her fingers into his blood-soaked shirt and pulls him into her, staining him with blight, once again on the verge of losing what is most important to her.

Hundreds of years pass through her like a ghost. So much fire, so much hatred, wasted in chasing after a lie. She should feel angry. At the very least, she should feel betrayed.

She feels Kazuma’s blood on her clothes and his shallow breaths against her skin.

There is no room for anger or regret when her heart is held captive by grief. The Ma Clan, the Ha Clan, the time she spent pursuing Yato with sadistic sadness are gone.

She feels Kazuma’s blood on her clothes.

It’s all gone.

His shallow breaths against her skin.

She falls apart.

 __

And when the dust is settled, they pull each other back together because that’s how they’ve learned to exist. She’s a goddess of war with armor forged in pain. He’s a blessed vessel with a catastrophically human heart. A god is never wrong, but even so, a choice resulting in collateral damage is what she trusts her hafuri to guide her away from. Her humanity exists in her shinki–in her love for them and their innate ability to feel beyond her realm of comprehension. In the ways they’ve known ephemerality and how precious time can be. In how people can perish like seconds–inevitably, irrevocably.

“I’m sorry,” Kazuma says once again. He bows his head, keeping his eyes trained on the name etched onto his hand. “I will never betray your trust again.”

She reaches for the back of his neck and gently brings his forehead to rest against hers. He swallows and flushes. She smiles.

“You’re doing fine,” she says. Her eyes close. “Thank you, Kazuma.”

Love, by its very definition, is devastatingly, beautifully human. It is ambrosia to the soul, ice over a burn, an incentive to fight and a reason for grief. It encompasses what it means to be alive, in the truest sense of the word.

In that way, she thinks perhaps even gods have much to learn from the near shore.

[crash-cinematic-universe]

masterlist

American Horror Story-

American Horror Story-Tate Langdon Fics: And the walls came crumbling down- To you, Tate Langdon was nothing less than a perfect boyfriend and a genuinely good person. Then, you decided to do some googling.

Series:

DISCONTINUED (for now): Headfirst for Halos (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) - Y/n L/n is the type of teenager every parent fears; punk rock, angry, abrasive– the list goes on. Everyone who knew her thought she was a rough-and-tough, unforgiving delinquent who would end up in jail. That is, until she met Tate Langdon and managed to soften. Then, the killing began.

Kit WalkerFics:Anxiety V.S. Kit Walker- Kit Walker is there for you, no matter what.

the ghosts that linger- The horrors of Briarcliff Asylum haunt Kit Walker like ghosts

James Patrick March

Fics:

The Hotel Cortez and Everything It Contains- for the first time in a long time, James Patrick March tries to right one of his many wrongs.

Headcanons: 

James Patrick March/plus sized!reader headcanons

James Patrick March moving on headcanons

Kai Anderson

Fics: 

Glass Kingdom- Kai Anderson gets his ass beat by Lana Winters. 

Amazon Eve

Fics:

The Colorful Days- After years of working as a freak in Jupiter, Florida, the days had lost their color. That was, until a certain woman showed.

X-Men

Peter Maximoff

       Fics

Home- Peter Maximoff just wants to feel at home. 

I’m Alive- After a mission goes terribly wrong, Peter realizes he needs to make good use of the time he spends alive.

Blurry- A mysterious silver blur has been in your peripheral for as long as you can remember– eventually, you get fed up.

A Dreamlike Longing- Your role in life is to fight off evil in the real world, but you could’ve never prepared for the battle against the evil in your dreams. Thankfully, you won’t have to do it alone.

Pride, in Every Sense of the Word- Peter Maximoff loves his perfect little family more than anything in the world.

Tear Open My Chest and Steal My Lungs-  Peter Maximoff has the Hanahaki disease, and he’d rather die than face rejection. HANAHAKI AU

Hey Lover- Peter agrees to be Erik’s best man at his wedding despite one problem: he can’t dance. Thankfully, you’re there to help him. 

love and death are on in the same- Peter Maximoff was all-too-familiar with unrequited love.

Pigeon-  Peter Maximoff is blowing away with the breeze without you to anchor him.

Fairy Lights, A Christmas Story, and a Metallic Jacket- Christmas is rolling around, and Peter is determined to create some positive memories.

Vodka, and the Wonderfully Dirty Side Affects- Who knew that vodka could turn an average night into one to remember. (NSFW)

It Will Always Be You- Peter goes toe-to-toe with the love of his life.

she can prove it with a solid right hook- A stranger arrives at the mansion and immediately begins to harass Peter. Thankfully, you handle the situation.

Beauty Lies in the Pockets of a Silver Jacket- When you decided to be Peter for Halloween, you never considered how hard it would be to acquire his prized jacket. (NSFW)

Anyone Who Knows What Love Is Will Understand- Peter suddenly finds out what the gaping hole in his memory is hiding.

High Score- You’re trying to beat Peter’s high score in PacMan and he so graciously decided to give you a little incentive. (NSFW)

Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off- nobody likes the opening band– except, of course, the lead singer’s secret girlfriend, who just happens to be the headliner (NSFW)

Let the Patter of the Rain Become the Rhythm- Peter Maximoff’s pessimism is defeated by your pure determination. 

stories from the rooftop- Peter Maximoff is sitting next to a pretty girl on the roof.

Thunderous- Peter has always been afraid of thunderstorms

Holographic Sand is a Kickass Band Name- peter learns that a fuckton can change in the course of a week

Fuzzy- Life in Westview is picture perfect, even if that picture is too fuzzy to see clearly.

Skeleton party- After a surprise attack on the mansion, peter realizes exactly how much you can handle.

tiger lilies, self destructing, and richard siken-  to peter maximoff, love is an anomaly that scares him more than anything else. however, you might be able to help him overcome his fear.

technicolor grief- tragedy strikes Peter Maximoff like a bullet train and he’s forced to push through the colors of grief

an interdimensional family road trip- after Peter disappears in a cloud of smoke, you, Erik, and Charles go on a fun-filled family road trip across the universe.

the worst part- you’re the messenger that’s carrying the most heartbreaking message imaginable to the Maximoff household. 

Rumor has it- you were gifted with the ability to speak things into existence-- however, often times it felt more like a parasite than a gift

Series:

Peter Maximoff is completely, utterly, and undoubtedly in love (1 & 2)- Peter had no idea a simple mission would change his life forever. He also had no idea how much he liked the bass guitar.

UNFINISHED: A Speedster, A Nuclear Bomb, and a Worn Down Walkman (prologue, 1)

Headcanons:

Affection Starved Peter Maximoff Headcanons

Jealous Peter Maximoff Headcanons

Platonic Peter Maximoff Headcanons

Peter Maximoff Crush Headcanons

Domestic Peter Maximoff Headcanons

Waking Up Next To Peter Headcanons

Peter Maximoff/ME 3am discord headcanons

General Peter Maximoff Headcanons

Submissive Peter Maximoff Headcanons

Peter Maximoff NSFW alphabet

dad!peter and Luna!daughter headcanons

Peter Maximoff/hydrokinetic!reader headcanons

Peter Maximoff/Male!reader headcanons

Peter Maximoff hurt/comfort headcanons

Peter Maximoff/Xavier!reader headcanons

Drabbles:

Peter Maximoff/Howlet!reader drabble- Saying your older brother, Logan, was overprotective would be an understatement.

Anger Issues- Peter Maximoff had fallen in love with the most inconvenient person possible– Y/n Wilson, daughter of the infamous Wade Wilson

Scott Summers

Headcanons:

Scott Summers Fake Dating Headcanons

Drabbles:

Heart Eyes- Scott Summers is madly in love with his girlfriend, and frankly, his friends are sick of it

Warren Worthington III

Headcanons:

Warren Worthington III Fluff Headcanons

Jealous Warren Worthington III Headcanons

Warren Worthington III Crush Headcanons

Warren Worthington III NSFW alphabet

Ororo Munroe

Storm general headcanons

Community 

Trobed-

One shots-

Incredibly short trobed things

Abed Nadir needs to count the seconds- Abed Nadir hates being alone in general, so when his friends disappear and leave him alone in a sea of job-seeking students he struggles to keep his head above water. 

Troy Barnes and his forgotten love confession-  troy and abed wake up in the library surrounded by their disoriented classmates with their memories wiped. Unfortunately for troy, one look in his friend’s eyes caused the entire forgotten ordeal to play out inside his head-- including the love confession that ended with a scream of agony.

Headcanons-

Troy Barnes headcanons

Abed Nadir headcanons 

[shepard-ram]

Okay so going deeper into yandere tommy, imagine him trying to get close to/befriend reader. Like he’s trying so hard to befriend them in his little gremlin way and, especially right before his exile, it becomes increasingly difficult because of the accusations and his actions. Despite all of the buzz around him, you both manage to become, in some form of the word, friends. But then the exile happens. Tommy feels like he’s been abandoned, betrayed by his closest friends. He literally has nobody. Well, except Dream and Ghostbur. After some time into his exile, with nobody going to visit him besides Dream, you decide that enough is enough and go to visit your friend. -🦤 1/?

you manage to get through the nether and, after a few failed attempts, find the portal that leads to Tommy’s site. When you find him, he’s probs not 100% in the right mental place. Like his depression is really getting to him and he’s kinda going mental (I haven’t rlly gotten to this part of the smp, I’m at the part right before Tommy’s exile so apologies if this isn’t completely accurate). And when a fucking ghost is your only mostly-constant contact along with a practically-daily visit from Dream, a man is gonna yearn for some other human contact. Especially from someone that you befriended before hand. So he feels closer to you since, ya’know, ur the first and only one that came to visit him (excluding Dream and Ghostbur). So y’all get to talking. you eventually leave but promise to keep visiting pretty often. Now Tommy’s trust issues are most definitely probably worse than before the exile so he’s very anxious when you leave. When you return the next day or the day after he’s like fucking POG the great Tommy is here!!! Right over here!! Look at him! You came back because you enjoy him because obviously he’s the best! But secretly he’s ecstatic about the fact that you came back for him. This keeps going on for a while until Tommy goes off with Techno. -🦤 2/?

You have no idea that anything happened to because you were busy and couldn’t visit him. Then when Tubbo spills the news, you’re devastated. You hadn’t visited Tommy in quite some time and because you visited him so often, you were partially in denial. So you went to check out the site yourself, and the tower convinced you that Tubbo’s news was true; Tommy was gone, dead, killed himself, whatever you wanna say about/call the “accident”. The mourning process starts and you cry. You cry and cry, sobbing until you can’t anymore, and somehow still manage to cry. Time passes and the guilt still stacks on you day by day. Then suddenly there’s news, rumors that Tommy was back; Tommy’s alive and well, seen walking the prime path with Techno and talking to Dream in front of the portal by the community house. -🦤 3/?

You are, understandably, in shock. You must be dreaming again, hallucinating that Tommy had come back and that nothing bad had happened to him. That everything that happened after he went missing was all some sick joke or a prank he pulled that worked a little too well. But when you see Tommy, mostly well but a little beaten/tattered, your emotions suddenly can’t be held back. All you can do hug Tommy, sobbing into his shoulder and calling him a “fucking bitch” for making everyone believe that he died or some shit. Then he chooses L’manberg over his alliance with Techno. Everything turns into chaos from there. -🦤 4/?

You don’t remember much else happening besides the fight for L’manberg which lead to its fall. It was all a blur. But everyone came out mostly unscathed and that’s all that mattered to you. I mean yeah there were some deaths and Tommy and Quackity were struck by lightning, but nothing that lead to a cannon death. But Tommy remembered everything. He remembered the way that you were repeatedly slain by Techno’s dog army, blown up by the tnt, fell into the holes that the withers made. There were so many things that Tommy remembered, all of the horrific things that happened to you and his friends. Some were reality and some came from nightmares/night terrors later on when that Tommy couldn’t differentiate between reality and fiction. But shhhh that totally doesn’t matter *wink*. - 🦤 5/? (Am I losing count?)

Anyways so a decent amount of that time you spent defending your friends against dangers instead of really instigating/fighting the stuff. You defended Tommy a lot because small big man Tommy is gone through so much , it’d hurt to see him go through more. But that just further traumatized him because why??? Why are you doing this? He’s not that important??? Stop getting yourself hurt over him! He’s am a big man! He can care for self! See!! He really appreciates you doing that for him though, even if it leads to disaster and fear/anxiety later on. So the battle definitely could have gone better. -🦤 6/?

People start to rebuild, but conflict still lingers. The Eggpire? Yikes, dangers cult! It literally wants to kill Tommy! So wouldn’t it try to do anything to lure Tommy in? Nicki and Jack trying to kill him. They’d do anything to get to him. And harming the things/ones he loves doesn’t seem to be on their list of “stuff we won’t do to fuck up this kid”. And many people don’t like him. There’s so many dangers for him and anybody he cares about. Tubbo, Phil, Sam, and the others can handle themselves. They have fighting experience. But you? Your first fight/war on the SMP was literally the last fight for L’manberg and you saw how that went! You got so injured during that! He can’t allow that to happen again! -🦤 7/?

So he’s paranoid about your safety, not really about himself. And maybe Nicki and Jack have already tried to use you to get Tommy. Even more incentive to do something ASAP for your safety. The best idea he can come up with is hiding you in a secret base. Secret bases do pretty well in the SMP... when they aren’t revealed; nobody really finds them and they do a great job protecting the stuff inside of it! He’s lazy and impatient and can’t just demand/“persuade” someone into making it for him. Then they’ll know where the base is, get suspicious of him or worse, they’ll know where you are/could be. So “asking for help” isn’t really an option here. He’ll ponder for a while then come up with the Pogtopia idea. It’s perfect! Nobody goes there anymore/it’s abandoned, it’s got the essentials to live there (I’m gonna assume the potato farm is still down there and will work), it’s a pretty secretive location (only the people on Pogtopia’s side rlly know of the location and they’re either dead or most likely forgot about the location! Besides Wilbur, Tommy, Techno, and Tubbo, the others didn’t go there often), and it’s a good distance away from most of the SMP. It’s a great idea! Now all Tommy has to do is get you into Pogtopia without any suspicion... -🦤 8/8 (yeah this was small at first then spiraled out of control owbfhfke sorry for the dump in your ask box)

Bro I'm not even gonna add to this cause it's just so perfect by itself- ah i am so glad you decided to share this <33!!! Like you really said "I'm gonna send a goddamn masterpiece" and I'm here for it

[fantasticfemmefatale]

after the war- poe dameron

SUMMARY: so basically the reader is in a relationship with poe dameron and they’re on exegol and yeah. you get the gist. very fluffy.

WARNINGS: none cuz look at me im a saint

After the war, he’d promised you that the two of you (and BB-8, of course) would have a nice, quiet life somewhere. Yavin, maybe. It would be just you three. Safe and happy.

 But now, he’s staring down legion upon legion of Star Destroyers and thinking that he’ll never see her again, never get an “after the war”, until he hears crackling through his headset, and her voice, sounding small and distant, saying, “Poe?”

The thought that he’s never heard genuine fear in her voice before sets in, and stays there, making itself nice and comfortable.

“(Y/N).” His voice wavers, but he musters all the courage he has left- it’s not much, considering the hell they’ve gone through to get here- to sound okay, for her. This is suicide, they both know it, but neither of them want their last memory of each other to be this: a dark sky marked by the Star Destroyers representing the opposite of everything they’re about to give their lives to fight for. “I love you baby. And after this is done, I’m gonna get you that pet you always wanted.”

“Yeah?” She responds, trying to hold back the sobs that threaten to consume her, the sadness that wraps its bony fingers around her ankles, trying to pull her down, down, down. “I bet you don’t even remember what animal I wanted.”

“Does it matter? They’re all gross money-wasters,” Poe jokes, but it lacks the laughter his voice usually holds. He hopes she doesn’t notice.

She laughs, but it’s a broken laugh, cut into pieces by fading hope for a future with him. “I suppose I should get a droid instead, Dameron?”

He nods, and then realizes she can’t see him. If he squints, he can make out her body next to Finn, and he thinks that this isn’t what she deserves, nobody so perfect should have to die like this.

Her thoughts mirror his as she looks towards his x-wing. 

“I love you, General Poe Dameron.”

“I love you too, General (Y/N) Dameron.”

She doesn’t correct him, doesn’t tell him, we’re not married, idiot like she usually does. He remembers that he never got to propose as he zips around, shooting wildly and praying to whatever higher being there may be that she makes it out alive. Even if he dies, he just wants his girl to make it out alive. He can hear grunts through the headpiece as she fights to make it to the navigation signal she and Finn are trying to destroy. He doesn’t say anything; he knows there’s nothing he can say. There’s too many words billowing through his brain, and none of them are good enough for what he wants to tell her, for the love he wants to describe. He wants to tell her the moment he first knew he would marry her someday, when he saw her playing hide-and-seek with BB-8 in their shared quarters. But there’s no words for what he wants to say, so he settles for silence. And he hopes that she knows all he wishes he could say. After a few seconds of quiet, R2-D2 chirps, and he knows it’s something for (Y/N) to hear. She was taken in by Leia Organa after her parents’ death, and was best friends with R2 for years.

Down below, BB-8 beeps sadly, and all (Y/N) can say to the little droid is, “He knows.”

Poe is trying his best to keep a brave face- but it’s starting to fail. Until, that is, Lando Calrissian swoops in like the hotshot he is, with a huge band of Resistance sympathizers in tow. Poe whoops in delight, and down below (Y/N) winces from the loud yelling in her earpiece. 

“Thanks for the free migraine,” she says, but can’t keep herself from smiling. She’s bruised and bloodied, but even so, she thinks that this might be the happiest she’s ever felt. The notion that she and Poe might still have the life they’d whisper about after midnight in bed is enough to keep her moving, even after every muscle in her body screams at her to stop, to slow down and possibly never move again. She grits her teeth, tasting blood in her mouth, and wills her body to move. Thankfully, it does, but she doesn’t know how long it can hold out for. When she thinks for a second that this is it, she’s gonna die here, Poe’s voice comes through the earpiece again, urging her on, one step at a time.

He keeps talking her through this, and deep down he knows he’s trying to instill confidence in himself, too.

They talk, back and forth, as they do their respective jobs, until out of nowhere, lightning lights up the sky and Poe can hear (Y/N)’s screams as his ship is blasted by lightning, causing him to fall down, faster and faster, until the electricity stops, and he regains control of his ships while R2-D2 beeps like an angry toddler.

He allows himself to watch (Y/N), Finn, and Jannah destroy the command ship, feeling his chest swell with pride. 

After the last of the Star Destroyers have been destroyed, and Rey returns, bringing news of her grandfather’s death, Poe lands his x-wing on the desolate planet and runs towards his friends, his orange suit making that annoying plasticy sound as he does. Finn calls to him, but he runs past him and gathers (Y/N) in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground, until she yelps in pain. Setting her down gently, he notices a large gash on her thigh, and he curses as he unzips the top of his suit so he can rip his shirt sleeve and tie it over the cut.

“We did it,” he says, looking up into her eyes from where he’s kneeling in front of her to tie the makeshift tourniquet, too happy for a sarcastic remark.

“We did it,” she agrees, placing one hand on his shoulder to help her balance. Around them, their friends give each other hugs as they board ships to return to the Resistance base, until all that’s left is the two of them, R2-D2, and Poe’s ship. He helps her into the cockpit, and pushes his seat as far back as it can go so that she can sit in his lap on the way to the base. All of a sudden, he’s hit with the memory of his friend Snap, dying in front of him, and his voice trembles as he says, “Snap.”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. She knows.

She moves her arm so that it’s looped around Poe’s, and rubs her thumb across his suit reassuringly. 

They’re at the base relatively quickly, and everyone in sight is rejoicing. People dance, sing, kiss, and run around like lunatics, jumping with ecstasy.

Poe helps her out, looping an arm under hers and around her back to help support her weight. He turns with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes- one she knows all too well- and says, “Don’t want to be the odd ones out, right?” just before kissing her, and he swears that he died, back on Exegol, and this is heaven. Holding you is heaven. 

He kisses her, over and over, until he can’t breathe and he wonders if his lips are tinged blue by now from lack of oxygen, and when he finally pulls away, he asks: “So how about that life I promised you?”

“I don’t know,” she responds, flaunting a coy smile and raised eyebrow. “I might need a little more convincing.”

Poe turns so that she’s directly in front of him, and then drops to one knee. “Is this enough incentive?” he asks, as he pulls out a small, scratched box from the pocket of his suit.

She gasps and her eyes tear up, and he smiles as she nods and throws her arms around his neck, wincing a bit as she lowers herself to the ground because of her leg injury. He flicks the box open, and pulls out the ring nestled inside, and slips it onto her finger. Suddenly, she pulls back, and Poe’s brain stops, thinking she’s going to break up with him right after agreeing to marry him.

Instead, she says, “Have you been carrying that everywhere with you?”

He nodded, laughing. “We share the same room! You would’ve found it if I’d left it anywhere else!”

She tilts her head slightly as she thinks for a moment, then relents with a murmur of “that’s true”, and kisses him.

They stay there for what feels like forever. There’s still more work to be done before they can truly consider the galaxy “saved”, but this, this is a start.

This is the beginning of their life after the war. And Poe couldn���t be happier.

[speuradair]

Breathless | B.T.

A Byakuya x reader mini fic based on prompt 47 from this list ♡

“A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged”

Word Count: 2k

Contains: vague Trigger Happy Havoc spoilers (?), Tw Anxiety description, mild swearing

Ding dong

Ding dong

The out of place, far too cheery jingle of the morning announcement rang out of the TV, pulling you from your restless, fitful sleep.

It was seven already? You were sure that Byakuya had said he’d come to meet you at 6:45 before this morning’s meeting.

Last night you'd had a particularly nasty anxiety attack, and he'd assured you that he'd stay with you today to make sure you were faring as well as possible.

 Yet you’d been left to wake up to the sound of Monokuma’s morning announcement, with your boyfriend running at least fifteen minutes late. That couldn't be right, Byakuya Togami was never late. And there, as if right on cue, that incessant worry tugged at you, choking the air out of your lungs.

You squeezed your eyes shut again, taking three deep breaths and trying to calm yourself down a bit like he would always tell you to. There had to be a rational, non-fatal reason that he hadn't come to wake you up. 

Everything at this school had you completely on edge, and it didn't take much anymore to send you right into a panic attack. Your stomach was in a consistent state of nauseating uneasiness, and your chest often burned in relentless anticipation. You were well aware that you had gone into full paranoia at that point, and while that wasn't unprecedented in this killing game, you also knew that being skittish and distracted wasn't doing you any favors. If you had any intention of defending yourself and doing your part in this investigation, it was necessary to stay as rational and level headed as possible. 

Taking another deep breath, you tried to think of all the other possible reasons he wasn't here. Maybe he had gotten distracted by a sudden lead on the mastermind, or maybe he'd been held up by Toko or her equally-as-obsessive counterpart. While you weren't fond of her being so infatuated with your boyfriend, that idea was still much more pleasant than your initial assumption. 

One thing you were sure of was that waiting timidly in your room wasn't going to solve anything. He'd probably just gone directly to the cafeteria to meet you, and you'd misunderstood what he'd said last night. That was entirely possible, it was hard to focus when the anxiety took over. 

That's what he did, right? It had to be. He wasn't hurt, you'd just gotten confused. 

After taking a moment to convince yourself of that, you stood to your feet and headed to the cafeteria yourself. 

Though, he wasn't there either. Granted, he hadn’t shown up to a few of the meetings recently, but it was odd that he hadn’t come today after specifically promising you he would. While he usually did whatever he wanted, he was always a man of his word. Subconsciously, your fingers restlessly toyed with the hem of your shirt as the sick feeling in your stomach slowly made itself more prominent. 

 “Ugh! This is why it’s a pain having such flaky friends!” Aoi groaned, sounding more annoyed than concerned. For once, you hoped he had just flaked out on you. 

“We have no choice but to wait for everyone else to arrive.” Sakura was right. It was only fifteen after seven; the others were probably just late. With the general bloody-minded attitude around lately, it wasn’t unreasonable to think that they just weren’t being rigid with timing anymore. Maybe you'd gotten more confused than you'd thought, and he said he'd meet you after the meeting. Right. That had to be it, right? There was no need to panic yet. So you hesitantly sat down next to Makoto at the table and attempted to quell the increasing tightness in your chest.

~

“Hey, it’s already eight.. They’re over an hour late…” Aoi finally pointed out, cutting into the silence to say what everyone else was thinking. The hollow small talk had died off fairly quickly, leaving the five of you in an uncomfortable quiet as you all tried not to think about what had actually stopped the five others from coming. 

“Why has nobody else come?” Sakura’s voice was softer than usual. 

“Something’s happened.”

“What?” Makoto sounded shocked as he processed what Kirigiri had said, but surprise was the last thing you were experiencing.

“We let our guard down. We were so focused on Alter Ego that we forgot about Monokuma’s ‘incentive.’ There’s no way it just ended there.”

A tense silence fell upon the room. Nobody had wanted to be the one to say it, but you’d all pretty much come to a unanimous conclusion. 

“We should go looking for them, the ones who didn’t show up.” With nobody objecting, Kirigiri continued. “It’s probably best if we split up and search. (Name), you take the dormitory. Check everyone’s bedrooms. Naegi, you search the first floor. I’ll handle the second floor.”

“Alright, then Sakura and I’ve got the third floor!” Even in a situation like this, Asahina maintained her bright demeanor. It would’ve been reassuring if you hadn’t been so preoccupied with the knot of dread tightening in your chest. 

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks. If anything happens, call for someone immediately.”

You barely waited for Kirigiri to finish before taking off towards the dorms. Automatically you made a beeline to Byakuya’s room, pressing his doorbell button urgently. Each second that passed without a response felt like an hour. Why wasn’t he answering? It wasn’t like him to sleep in and it wasn’t like him to just snub you like this. Would he snub the others? All the time. But he’d never been dismissive of you, and right now you felt all too aware of that. For the first time, you hoped that he was just being his typical egotistical self. This would be the only time that you would be glad to find out he’d chosen to go to the library instead of choosing to come see you. If he had gone to the library, that meant he was probably still there, oblivious to the concern of his classmates. If he hadn’t, though, and he hadn’t made it to your room this morning…

Refusing to let yourself finish that thought, you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. You’d just ring his doorbell again and check the others’ rooms, then go upstairs to find him in the library yourself. 

You reached out to do so with a trembling hand, but a sudden piercing scream made you freeze. Suddenly you couldn’t feel your hands. It was definitely one of the girls, but in your sudden peaked panic, you couldn’t identify the voice completely. You wanted to say that it had been Aoi, but the more you thought about it the less sure you were. Someone had found something upstairs, and you hadn’t gotten the chance to check the library yet. 

Someone could’ve found something in the library.

Your neck burned and your legs had joined your hands in that cold, buzzing numbness. 

 No, you didn’t have the time to think about it; you didn’t have time to give into the anxiety attack clawing at your chest. You just had to get upstairs. After convincing your body to move again, you began to run. If you focused on moving, you wouldn’t have to think about what your mind insisted on thinking about. Just get upstairs. 

Though you tried to keep yourself from assuming the worst, intrusive thoughts of what could be awaiting you filled your mind. What if it had been Kirigiri who screamed, and not Aoi? What if she'd checked the library and found the next victim, your boyfriend, dead and cold? 

You could see it play out all too well in your mind- you'd be the last to get to the library, and everyone else would be standing around the crime scene in remorseful silence. He'd been too cocky and given the wrong person the perfect opportunity. You'd been too complaisant and now he was gone. 

Your legs had gone completely numb as you mindlessly raced up the stairs and down the hallway, but you barely noticed at that point. Your mind was too preoccupied with just getting to the library. 

Bracing yourself for the worst, you swung open the heavy wooden door. 

But the gut-wrenching shock never came. A warm wave of relief rushed over you as you looked into the room. Contrary to what you'd been expecting, the room was empty save for the familiar blond at one of the bookshelves. There Byakuya stood with a book, completely safe and entirely unphased. You could feel your face again, only now noticing that it was hot and damp with tears. Before you even realized it, you had rushed to him, impulsively pressing your trembling lips to his and throwing your still tingling arms around him as tightly as you could. You gasped as you practically collapsed against him. Finally you could breathe again. 

He coughed out a bit from your tight grip and dropped his book, startled. "What exactly do you think you're doing?!" 

"Togami, you asshole! I thought it was you!" Your uncharacteristically harsh words made it clear that you were mad at him, but you didn't let go. You didn’t care about adhering to his general rule against public affection, you were just glad he was still alive. Clinging to him like this helped you to solidify that he was okay. 

"What are you talking about?" Normally he would’ve immediately condemned your use of profanity, but your clearly shaken-up state had him picking his words a bit more carefully. You were already crying, he didn't need you sobbing because he'd scolded you. 

"You bailed on me this morning, you didn't  come to the meeting, you weren't in your room when we went to find everyone else, and then someone upstairs screamed that someone had been hurt-"

"Tch," his scoff cut you off your rambling, "You really thought I would be dumb enough to let any of those idiots hurt me? Don't be so stupid." 

He kept up his air of superiority and arrogance, but his body language betrayed him. Instead of pushing you off of him, he sighed reluctantly against your hair before returning the tight embrace. It was tight enough that you almost couldn't breathe, but it didn't matter. You were in his arms again. You hadn't lost him. Suffocating from his embrace was so much better than choking from an anxiety attack. 

Feeling you relax into his chest after a moment, he waited for your shaking to fully subside before he spoke again. “Compose yourself before Toko makes her inevitable return. From what you said, there’s enough of a scene right now as it is. I don’t have the time to deal with the fit she’d throw if she found you hanging off of me.” 

You nodded meekly and wiped at your face with your sleeve. He stopped you though, gently grabbing your wrist with one hand before using the other to dry your tears with a tissue from his pocket. "Don't do that, you'll just get your sleeve covered in your own tears and snot. That's disgusting."

The heat on your cheeks only intensified under his close gaze. His eyes met yours as he studied your expression, though he only held your gaze for a moment before turning away with an entirely superficial eye roll. “Look at you, making me wipe your tears like some kind of lovesick idiot.” 

This was your turn to give him an almost entirely superficial eye roll of your own. “It’s only fair, you’re the one who made me cry.” 

He scoffed in return, but his sly smile didn’t hold the same condescending scorn it did when he used it against others. This one held genuine amusement and, dare you say, affinity? 

Tossing the now folded up tissue in the dusty library trash can, he placed his hand at the small of your back, coaxing you towards the door. “Come on, apparently we have an investigation to attend to.”

[sit-down-and-shut-up]

after the war- p. dameron

warnings: none

words: 1479

summary: you’re a resistance fighter in a relationship with a certain pilot in the battle of exegol. fluffy fluffy

After the war, he’d promised you that the two of you (and BB-8, of course) would have a nice, quiet life somewhere. Yavin, maybe. It would be just you three. Safe and happy.

 But now, he’s staring down legion upon legion of Star Destroyers and thinking that he’ll never see her again, never get an “after the war”, until he hears crackling through his headset, and her voice, sounding small and distant, saying, “Poe?”

The thought that he’s never heard genuine fear in her voice before sets in, and stays there, making itself nice and comfortable.

“Y/N.” His voice wavers, but he musters all the courage he has left- it’s not much, considering the hell they’ve gone through to get here- to sound okay, for her. This is suicide, they both know it, but neither of them want their last memory of each other to be this: a dark sky marked by the Star Destroyers representing the opposite of everything they’re about to give their lives to fight for. “I love you baby. And after this is done, I’m gonna get you that pet you always wanted.”

“Yeah?” She responds, trying to hold back the sobs that threaten to consume her, the sadness that wraps its bony fingers around her ankles, trying to pull her down, down, down. “I bet you don’t even remember what animal I wanted.”

“Does it matter? They’re all gross money-wasters,” Poe jokes, but it lacks the laughter his voice usually holds. He hopes she doesn’t notice.

She laughs, but it’s a broken laugh, cut into pieces by fading hope for a future with him. “I suppose I should get a droid instead, Dameron?”

He nods, and then realizes she can’t see him. If he squints, he can make out her body next to Finn, and he thinks that this isn’t what she deserves, nobody so perfect should have to die like this.

Her thoughts mirror his as she looks towards his x-wing. 

“I love you, General Poe Dameron.”

“I love you too, General Y/N Dameron.”

She doesn’t correct him, doesn’t tell him, we’re not married, idiot like she usually does. He remembers that he never got to propose as he zips around, shooting wildly and praying to whatever higher being there may be that she makes it out alive. Even if he dies, he just wants his girl to make it out alive. He can hear grunts through the headpiece as she fights to make it to the navigation signal she and Finn are trying to destroy. He doesn’t say anything; he knows there’s nothing he can say. There’s too many words billowing through his brain, and none of them are good enough for what he wants to tell her, for the love he wants to describe. He wants to tell her the moment he first knew he would marry her someday, when he saw her playing hide-and-seek with BB-8 in their shared quarters. But there’s no words for what he wants to say, so he settles for silence. And he hopes that she knows all he wishes he could say. After a few seconds of quiet, R2-D2 chirps, and he knows it’s something for her to hear. She was taken in by Leia Organa after her parents’ death, and was best friends with R2 for years.

+++++

Down below, BB-8 beeps sadly, and all you can say to the little droid is, “He knows.”

+++++

Poe is trying his best to keep a brave face- but it’s starting to fail. Until, that is, Lando Calrissian swoops in like the hotshot he is, with a huge band of Resistance sympathizers in tow. Poe whoops in delight, and down below she winces from the loud yelling in her earpiece. 

“Thanks for the free migraine,” she says, but can’t keep herself from smiling. She’s bruised and bloodied, but even so, she thinks that this might be the happiest she’s ever felt. The notion that she and Poe might still have the life they’d whisper about after midnight in bed is enough to keep her moving, even after every muscle in her body screams at her to stop, to slow down and possibly never move again. She grits her teeth, tasting blood in her mouth, and wills her body to move. Thankfully, it does, but she doesn’t know how long it can hold out for. When she thinks for a second that this is it, she’s gonna die here, Poe’s voice comes through the earpiece again, urging her on, one step at a time.

He keeps talking her through this, and deep down he knows he’s trying to instill confidence in himself, too.

They talk, back and forth, as they do their respective jobs, until out of nowhere, lightning lights up the sky and Poe can hear her screams as his ship is blasted by lightning, causing him to fall down, faster and faster, until the electricity stops, and he regains control of his ships while R2-D2 beeps like an angry toddler.

He allows himself to watch her, Finn, and Jannah destroy the command ship, feeling his chest swell with pride. 

After the last of the Star Destroyers have been destroyed, and Rey returns, bringing news of her grandfather’s death, Poe lands his x-wing on the desolate planet and runs towards his friends, his orange suit making that annoying plasticy sound as he does. Finn calls to him, but he runs past him and gathers her in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground, until she yelps in pain. Setting her down gently, he notices a large gash on her thigh, and he curses as he unzips the top of his suit so he can rip his shirt sleeve and tie it over the cut.

“We did it,” he says, looking up into her eyes from where he’s kneeling in front of her to tie the makeshift tourniquet, too happy for a sarcastic remark.

“We did it,” she agrees, placing one hand on his shoulder to help her balance. Around them, their friends give each other hugs as they board ships to return to the Resistance base, until all that’s left is the two of them, R2-D2, and Poe’s ship. He helps her into the cockpit, and pushes his seat as far back as it can go so that she can sit in his lap on the way to the base. All of a sudden, he’s hit with the memory of his friend Snap, dying in front of him, and his voice trembles as he says, “Snap.”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. She knows.

She moves her arm so that it’s looped around Poe’s, and rubs her thumb across his suit reassuringly. 

They’re at the base relatively quickly, and everyone in sight is rejoicing. People dance, sing, kiss, and run around like lunatics, jumping with ecstasy.

Poe helps her out, looping an arm under hers and around her back to help support her weight. He turns with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes- one she knows all too well- and says, “Don’t want to be the odd ones out, right?” just before kissing her, and he swears that he died, back on Exegol, and this is heaven. Holding you is heaven. 

He kisses her, over and over, until he can’t breathe and he wonders if his lips are tinged blue by now from lack of oxygen, and when he finally pulls away, he asks: “So how about that life I promised you?”

“I don’t know,” she responds, flaunting a coy smile and raised eyebrow. “I might need a little more convincing.”

Poe turns so that she’s directly in front of him, and then drops to one knee. “Is this enough incentive?” he asks, as he pulls out a small, scratched box from the pocket of his suit.

She gasps and her eyes tear up, and he smiles as she nods and throws her arms around his neck, wincing a bit as she lowers herself to the ground because of her leg injury. He flicks the box open, and pulls out the ring nestled inside, and slips it onto her finger. Suddenly, she pulls back, and Poe’s brain stops, thinking she’s going to break up with him right after agreeing to marry him.

Instead, she says, “Were you carrying that everywhere with you?”

He nodded, laughing. “We share the same room! You would’ve found it if I’d left it anywhere else!”

She tilts her head slightly as she thinks for a moment, then relents with a murmur of “that’s true”, and kisses him.

They stay there for what feels like forever. There’s still more work to be done before they can truly consider the galaxy “saved”, but this, this is a start.

This is the beginning of their life after the war. And Poe couldn’t be happier.

[dis--parity]

Interview 03-IO/GW-██

TRANSCRIPT -- Interrogation session 03-IO/GW-██

Date: ████ of █████, 20██

Interrogator on site: Captain ████ Raynes

Transcription Correspondent: Agent ███████ Brewer

Begin recording at 1000 HRS.

S001, ‘Garis’,  awaits in the interrogation chamber, appearing fatigued, but stable.

Interrogator agent Raynes is cleared to attempt interrogation.

Interrogator Raynes enters the interrogation chamber. Door is locked.

Begin Questioning.

Garis: Guess we know the drill by now. So… what you got for us this time?

Raynes: Well, surprisingly… our team recovered quite a lot of paperwork. Your cult leader didn’t really seem to have the due diligence to burn it.

Garis: So… lots of stuff we didn’t know about, then? Like what?

Raynes: Cryptocurrency transactions, recruitment figures, personal expenses… the brand name doubled as a money-laundering front for some people your… leader, was associated with, it looks like. Other than that… he was a gambler. Day-trader, broker, conman… you name it.

Garis: Oh, there’s a fair few fucking names we’d use for that degenerate piece of filth. … hey, there’s one of them just now.

Raynes: I’m with you there. I already told about what we found in that pudding - looks like he used the same stuff on himself. Him and Rosenfeld. You think… maybe he wanted to believe his own lies?

Garis: More likely he was just a junkie. Both of them. Using people like us to bring in the dirty money, doing whatever they please and letting the others do the same, ‘cause as long as they make a profit-

Raynes: Hey, hey, hey. I get it. Chill. They were greedy bastards, secret’s out, but they’re dead now. Speak ill of ‘em all you want, but… I’m afraid there’s more. That pudding they gave you? For both you in the cult and the general populace, they put blood in it.

Garis: I-... blood? Like-... my blood?

Garis appears to become nauseous at the concept. They take out a lozenge that agent Raynes had previously provided them with and suck on it.

Raynes: Yeah. Possibly… those blood donations went into it. Mr. Whittock-... Judas, wanted to study the effects of the blood of the young on the aging process using a large sample. When he got something solid, he was gonna sell it to all kinds of people. Politicians, criminals, all kinds of people who were past their prime. Another profit incentive.

Garis: And a way to keep the old and corrupt in power. Fuck… that- you destroyed all that, right?

Raynes: I can’t confirm or deny that.

Note: It’s destroyed. I saw to it myself.

Garis: So… you’ve got all this from those documents. Why are we still here? Just for the hell of it?

Raynes: There’s still a few questions I need to ask you. One of them is about the, ah... possible terrorist motives of the cult. Given everything I’ve just told you, everything Judas looked like he was building up to… why the sudden change of heart? Why order a shipment of weapons so conspicuously?

Garis: We-... we can’t say for sure. Not from our perspective, but… there were-... we got messages from the God in the Numbers around the same time we all received what I later found out were weapons. It… it wasn’t Judas that was talking.

Raynes: So… the other one. Elijah?

Garis: We were... doped up, all of us. Same thing they always did to us, but we knew. I knew. Gale knew. And his voice-... the voice- Elijah, he was the one the God in the Numbers spoke from. We all got our guns, told they would… told it was the rapture. We didn’t know what it meant at the time, but I heard what people thought. That we’d go out and show these ‘relics’ to the world, redeem them in the eyes of God. But… we alone felt the cold steel of a nine millimeter in our hands.

Raynes: But… why do this? Haemolife was more or less off the radar until that weapons shipment came in.

Garis: … I think that was the point where they finally factored Gale in. Someone who could get past that barrier, someone who had the willpower to defy the God in the Numbers. Someone who didn’t have the same fear Iris did. They knew… they knew she’d blab eventually. Desperate times, maybe.

Raynes: And the way Rosenfeld took desperate measures was to initiate a terrorist attack before you could expose the truth?

Garis: No - not to take everyone else out. To destroy everyone in the know - myself included. Maybe something changed along the way, maybe they realised your CIA was onto them. Either way… it was the end for all of us.

Raynes: Even the ones cross country… shit. They were prepared for this. Shit… I mean… you told me about your parents. I guess you didn’t leave anyone behind, at least

S001 grimaces at these words. Their mood appears to be taking a turn for the worse.

Garis: … we did. Fuck. I did. We… couldn’t even say goodbye. We knew what was happening, and-... we pushed him away. We didn’t want to drag him into this, too.

Raynes: Who?

Garis sighs.

Garis: … his name was Alex. He was there for us. If it wasn’t for him, we might not be Garis now. He showed us the best of times, and stuck with us in the worst of times. He knew… he knew about what we truly went through, we told him. And he helped us anyway. Loved us anyway. He-....

Garis pauses for a brief moment. Their face looks almost guilty.

Garis: They, told me about how their dad used to isolate them socially, stick them to one place, and how they grew jealous of all the other kids who had parents who loved them, parents who took them places instead of keeping them cooped up in their rooms, parents that… didn’t have any agreement between each other to do what they wanted to their children. Together, we figured out ways to fight back against our respective abusers. I was able to defy the God in the Numbers because of them. Because of their... humanity, that nobody else showed us. Fuck… all that time, we thought we were saving them. But, now we’re together, we realise… they were saving us. If they became a target…

Raynes: … tell me something. If there’s something you could say to them right now, if they’re alive, if they could listen... what would it be?

Garis hesitates. Agent Brewer detects this conversation is becoming too personal in nature, but the interrogator is owed some leeway.

Garis: … I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t explain to you what was happening, Alex. But… you saved my life. I wish I knew where you were, and I promise one day we’ll find a way to talk to each other again, someway, somehow, and I’ll tell you, once and for all… thank you.

Note: Raynes has taken all the leeway he’s getting.

Agent Brewer enters the interrogation chamber.

Brewer: Raynes, what are you doing?! This isn’t helping us, we’ve gotten everything we need! Now let’s move on to the next stage already, and-

Raynes: William! Get back to your post, I told you I’d handle this.

Brewer: Oh, because you’ve handled everything so fucking well so far, haven’t you?

Garis: Hey, shut the fuck up, goatee!

Raynes: Yeah, shut the fuck up! Finish up that transcript and we’ll take it outside the interrogation chamber. We’ll move onto the wrap up once you’ve got that shit out your system.

Garis: The… ‘wrap up’? What is this? What have you got planned now, CIA?

Raynes: … I guess we’ll see for ourselves. Please, go back to your cell. Things are gonna work themselves out - starting right now.

[kpop-bg-roleplay]

(I've decided to send all of our replies in one here for an overview so far! The rest of our rp is going through asks!)

Finding the same nine people you were joking around during the day, carrying weaponry and dealing with drugs in a dimly lit alley way was more than a shock to your system. The first to acknowledge your presence was Hyerin, and holy hell did her expression carry a complete 180' from how she looked that morning. Was this really the same person? "Elise, what are you doing snooping around? The night is a dangerous place."

-----

"I was about to go home actually", I answered her while holding my grocery bag slightly tighter in my hands at the scene in front of me. "What did you do to those people?", I asked the whole as my body language showed tensed up shoulders, ragged breath, pupils widened and having an even more paled up face than usually. The scene in front of me could be out of a crime scene. Bodies on the ground and only the guys I've called my so called friends standing in the middle of it.

------

All she did was look at Hongjoong, who immediately caught onto what she was thinking about and ordered the others to get back in the group car. Joining his right-hand, Hongjoong rolled his eyes, "None of your business, unless you'd rather get scarred."

------

"Alright. I've never seen anything", I asked him as I morphed my face completely blank despite my stiff posture before looking behind me briefly and then making my way, passing the car while only shaking my head in dissappointment at Hyerin.

------

They had no other business that night, and returned to the car before Seonghwa drove back to the cafe. Sighing as they all walked inside, Yunho  needed very little incentive to gather intel on you; you had found them out - in a way - after all.

------

"I'm home", I called out and walking inside my house to sort my groceries inside the fridge. I didn't hear anything besides the Amazon Echo greeting me back. Walking inside the living room to turn the lights on, with a beer glass in my hand I then went ahead to recall the memories of what happened a few hours ago. The bodies on the ground, Hyerin and the others being completely different from how I know them and knowing now that they're somehow involved in something criminal, I've decided to stay away from them as good as possible.

------

Finding your location, then everything else about you was easy. Yunho scoffed as he made his way through your systems, who actually kept Echoes? Especially when they're such easy targets. Yeosang couldn't have agreed more as he rerouted through the smart devices in your home, the data falling in his lap like candy. Meanwhile, Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Hyerin were in the leader's office discussing what they would do with you. Leave you and possibly risk having you reveal them to the police, or keep you under watch.

------

"And... another night alone with no friends to help me finish my food from yesterday", I sighed softly to myself as I looked at the time and walking upstairs to the attic. I opened the door to reveal hundreds rolls of paintings I've been doing in the past. When you walk upstairs, you can smell the plastic mixed in with a white substance called C17H21NO4 or for the Day to Day person between us, Cocaine. I use that particular powder in my paintings, hidden in the pigments and the paper that can be used to smoke it as a cigarette or joint. I've had some encounters indirectly with the dealers from BigHit and Pledis but had managed to keep my name clean up until now. I've started early with selling it in the black market as dupes for certain museums. The actual thieves swapped them out with mine and I can still see one of the not caught paintings in the next Art museum. Nobody has to know that unless they start to actually burn the paintings that most of these are priceless. I always have them in big jars that are labeled as Sugar and Flour, one being more intense than the other but the results are mostly the same.

The thing is, I started at the age of 15. I was stupid and unknowingly sold them online to finance my living expenses for some pocket money after my escape from the organization. Then I found out about it through an unknown source that works for those people and...here I am. Not even Hyerin knows about it, because I always lock the attic and most people wouldn't be assuming that there are illegal drug paintings in there in the first place anyways. She never seemed to be interested in it and asked me questions.

Here I am, making sure that my newest painting gets sold online as the address is always changing in alphabetical order. It can't be the same route as it's another drug dealers territory and he's a scary bulky man that I ALMOST broke his nose when we were talking the first time I've put it in there. I got away with a few bruises anyways, no big deal.

A few days since then passed after the encounter that they're in the mafia and I kept my distance with each member of Hyerins friend group. I went the other way when I heard familiar steps, excuse myself from attending classes and turning in my assignments online, and I ignored Hyerins texts and calls as good as I can. But...the Mafia people are persistent more than the scam callers or mild inconveniences on the street to make you donate to a charity.

I heard my bell ring one night on a Saturday, while I was finishing my painting for the night. I kept the door to my attic open and walking downstairs with my mask on before opening up. Well, it wasn't for sure the neighbors that got my packages or the delivery guy I've been waiting on for 20 minutes. It's them. And I immediately tried to close the door shut.

------

A week's worth of research, intelligence gathering and hacking on part of Yunho and Yeosang had paid off. And they weren't in the mood to be patient. In silent agreement, Seonghwa and Mingi kicked the door down together, the group walking in with a beyond intimidating presence. "Gather everything of value, I want to see this place ransacked, understand?" Hongjoong ordered, no room in his tone for debate. Hyerin seemed to have taken an interest in the jars, and began to walk towards you, "Interested in the world of narcotics, are we? How fascinating." Her words weren't scary on their own, but with a handgun in her hand and the more than evident danger she carried with her, Hyerin could induce a nightmarish fear in even the most hardened individuals.

------

"Do whatever you want, but if you want to take something... you have to pay for it first", I began saying and being to list all of the prices at each item they're holding, "You". I pointed at Mingi first who's holding my lamp, "I got it from Ikea for 25,99€ plus the light switch. You". I pointed to Hyerin as she's taking an interest in my jars of cocaine, "That includes highly concentrated cocaine and because it's opened it's going to be released in the air around us that will get us addicted. It's also 3000€ worth per kilograms. You." I then pointed at Yunho and Yeosang, "Individual paintings are worth 5000€ each, customized fakes are 10.000€ and up worth. The the ones you're holding are for my customers that pay lots of it and if you want to snatch it it's 40 Million€ worth. You". I pointed at San and Wooyoung carrying out my pigments, "I made these myself and they're mixed with the cocaine. I would say 500.000 in total and You."  I pointed at Hongjoong and Seonghwa that is taking a sit on my couch, "390€ and 5.99€ each of the pillows. And lastly, you." I looked over Jongho with a tired sigh, "Please don't raid my fridge...". I sighed softly before doing the math in my head, "That'll be 4.518.421,98€, please. I take checks too". And despite being terrified of every member of the Mafia people, I managed to sit down on the couch to cross my arms over my chest. Until I got a gun against my temple, which made me raise an eyebrow. My forehead started to sweat, my hands got clammy and my throat dried up immensely but I took a deep breath to calm myself down. "What are you going to do with me once you took everything out of my house and killed me? I mean, I didn't tell anyone about your hidden secret,Hyerin. I've lived my life in peace and didn't meddle in on your business. Don't you think that I deserve a different death than a gun against my head?", I began to speak slowly and looking at her direction with a small smile despite her glaring that already killed me, "I want to be killed in a different way, not like that"

------

Maybe the three eldest of Ateez had a twisted sense of mercy, or maybe they were interested, but once Hongjoong had processed how much money you could possibly bring in, he was at Herin's side, whispering in her ear. With an amused smirk, Hyerin put the gun back in the holster and chuckled, "Since my friend here is so~ interested in your works, Hongjoong thinks I should let you go." Her laugh was dangerous, as she called for the the others to bring the artworks to the van. Walking to you, Hongjoong crossed his arms, "You'll make us quite a bit of profit, you'll be pretty useful with us. " He remarked, voice twinged with interest. How much could you make them? Well, that was for them to find out. And it would cost you absolute loyalty to the mafia, and Seonghwa was still unsure whether you'd be a good fit.

------

"I choose death please", I replied blankly and sighing softly as I immediately shake my head at their direction and pointing at Hyerins gun, "Please shoot me, or roll me over with your car or burn me alive. Anything to satisfy your twisted fake conceptions of sadism."

------

A dark, slightly seductive (well, to the others, with you, who knew?) chuckle fell from the other female in the room, as she ran her tongue over her lips. Fuck, that was hot. Sadism? That would her be middle name. "Oh, oh~ I haven't been in the Crimson ward in so long~ maybe I should give our little friend here a personal tour?" She taunted, flicking your chin with the tip of her nails. "I agree with Hongjoong, let's take this one with us."

------

"Careful, I bite", I played along with with her and holding her cheek gently to kiss her forehead lightly, "But I would rather go ahead and begin suicide than leaving my house in the middle of the night. I can't leave physically this place, unless you want me to paint ugly paintings that aren't worth lots of money? I wonder what would happen if I just killed myself now?"

------

Okay, you were a brave one. Amused, Hyerin pulled you to your feet by you collar and whispered, her breath fanning your neck, "From now on, your life is in my hands, understand that? And don't you worry about the quality, you'll have a much better studio for your art." She saw something in you, and she wanted to harness that. The other members had long since emptied the apartment of your artworks, and they were in the van. They'd definitely sell to the highest bidder, and my God there were crooked curators who'd kill to get hands on your art.

------

"Let me say goodbye before I go", I requested to her and gently taking her hands off my collar to take a few steps back. "Would you be kind and wait outside? I won't take long", I added with a small smile that seemed almost too forced but I refused to cry infront of anyone

------

"Very well. Make it quick, and don't you dare think about running." Hyerin replied simply, her arms folded at her chest. Reading emotions was no effort, and it was clear you had no intention of streaking your face with tears in their presence. Walking by the door, she gave you one last look before she stepped outside, silently ordering the soldiers in the other cars to surround the building. Trying to flee wouldn't be a good idea, nor would breaking the miniscule amount of trust Hyerin had granted you.

------

Walking to my room that I usually put in my clothes in my luggage, I somehow played it off with no suspicion whatsoever for now. Taking out a piece of paper to then start writing a note to people who are going to be searching for me, at least I hoped that someone would care about me in my friend group. I sighed softly as I kept it short and simple to write down a simple note of me being taken away to a remote place for awhile. Wiping my tears away from my eyes as I hide the note in between the broken cracks of the house, I walked out of my room to do a last room tour to then join the group again. "My luggage, here's also my ID... I don't think I need it anymore from now on", I mumbled and avoiding their eyes as good as I can while handing my belongings to them. Walking over to the trunk, I willingly climb in to avoid talking to anyone as good as possible.

------

By the  time you stepped inside the trunk, the others had all piled in and were more than just a little impatient to get back. Taking the wheel, Seonghwa pressed his foot on the gas and soon you found yourself on the way back to the...cafe? The Twilight Cafe was probably the most innocent looking cafe on the street, and that's where they were returning to?

What?

Parking round the back, the members all filed out, entering the cafe and taking a seat. The three eldest remained, ordering the soldiers to bring your belongings into the main part of the building, and Hongjoong pulled you out of the trunk, a bored stare in his eyes.

"You'll be escorted to the living quarters. Don't cause any trouble; I'm not looking to get my gun out right now."

------

"Yes, Sir", I replied in a small whisper, following the people inside while keeping a straight face. I couldn't even hide my stiff posture, how I'm holding my hands behind my back as if I'm a prisoner and the bloodied underlip that I've bit on the whole time. It didn't help my situation at this point on how my stomach started to rumble loudly during the ride and how nauseated I'm feeling due to motion sickness.

I didn't look around the cafe at all, too scared to anger even more people and knowing that I'm not going to get my freedom back at all is the worst thing that could be happening to a human being. I know that I'm fucked at this point. Sometimes I wished to be not able to draw or paint, maybe then I'd be a normal person with a bright future.

'I want this nightmare to end already... please help me', I thought to myself almost desperately and started to pray in my head already. I'm thinking of ending my life at this point, ending the pain and start somewhere new. I think it's out of question right now and the pressure only pumped up my adrenaline rush in my system. My survival instincts are tingling and my heart beats even louder than a hammer against a wall.

The steps stopped ultimately, and I snapped out of my trance. It's a small room, enough to sleep in and change your clothes. Plus an attached bathroom, that didn't have security cameras. I'm slightly thankful for it at least, they give me the privacy to an extent. I didn't think much of what happened afterwards, nodding along the order for tomorrow and I was finally alone. Alone as I can get, at least.

So I quickly walked inside the bathroom to get everything out of my system and let my guard down. I cried in silence, hugging my knees and hiding behind my hands to muffle out my sobs. "I want to...go home", I whispered gently to myself and swallowing thickly, my body started to shake violently due to the pressure. I'm currently having a panic attack and I couldn't control it entirely. For some reason, I managed to pass out on the bed, shaking violently to the core and desperately trying to stay conscious to not cause even more problems.

------

Once you had been escorted from the initial cafe space, Hyerin immediately got up, getting her phone to discuss the latest findings with the financial heads at KQ -one of which she was a deputy to. There was much to discuss. And she'd definitely have to work overnight to draft up a reasonable report to KQ.

Among all the staff that walked around the complex, one stood out. Younger than Ateez's youngest, a high rank that almost rivalled Ateez themselves. With a tablet in hand, she walked through the dorms until she arrived at your rooms, a mutter of 'this wasn't used before...' coming from her.

She entered your room, making no announcement that she was entering. Maybe she had received similar training to the mafia members themselves, because her presence was palpable in the air. She tsked when she saw your condition, placing her tablet on the windowsill and walked over to you.

"Come to your senses, you've been brought here and you need to hurry up and accept it. Now what's you name? I have to provide KQ with accurate reports."

------

"Elise Liddell, Ma'am. I would appreciate it if I could use this night to eventually finish my mental break down until tomorrow morning", I answered her as quickly as possible, almost making it sound that I've rapped and my still shaking body leaning towards the cold wall. Wiping my tears away from my eyes, I avoided her gaze despite listening to her instructions intensely. "I'm just an ordinary artist, my paintings aren't real to be original.", I continued further, then quieting down as I don't want to spill out more information about myself and why I'm even doing my current profession as follows. 'Over my dead body, I'll be free in no time, even if I have to plot against them somehow', I thought, straightening my posture and eventually looking at the person nearby the windowsill. "What am I supposed to do tomorrow morning? I have to go to college and I don't want to be raising suspicion over my disappearence that soon", I asked her, coughing slightly as the crying made me thirsty, yet knowing that those bastards are going to love it to see me dying of dehydration soon.

------

The girl almost laughed. Almost. Scoffing, she tilted her head and gave you an overly sweet smile. But her eyes held something much, much more dangerous. "I'm not going to stop your precious little mental breakdown, go right ahead~."

The very idea that Ateez had someone as young as the girl in front of you working with them definitely seemed off.  Shouldn't she at least be in school? Reaching for her tablet, she was quiet for a moment before meeting your eyes.

"Ateez will take care of that. If you require something to drink I will put in a notice for the staff to provide a water dispenser."

------

"The absence of me entering college should be because I got either pregnant and have to leave due to my VISA or because I'm going back to Germany to fulfill one of the courses there. Any other reason isn't acceptable at all", I sighed softly and nodding slowly at the water dispenser for my casual use. "Anything else that I need to know?"

------

All she did was roll her eyes. It wasn't her problem, neither did she care. Whatever excuse they came up with would have to be the one you accepted. "You're not to enter Hongjoong, Seonghwa or Hyerin's office without letting either them or myself know beforehand." About to continue, her focus is drawn to someone calling her name.

"Minnie, you're needed in Seonghwa's office."

"Okay Kai, I'll be there."

At least you knew her name. Leaving the room and shutting the door behind her, you were left to your own devices, and thoughts, again.

------

'If she's going to tell them what excuse they should use in order to get me out of there, they also don't know who I'm close in contact too.', I thought to myself, drinking the water that Kai brought earlier to then walk to the bathroom and using some of the time to clean myself up as good as possible. The room had my luggage inside and instead of hyperventilating the whole time, I looked straight at the camera to flip off with my perfectly long nails to the person who watches me now. The ordering process of my stuff, made me calm down just a little bit, despite the shaky hands and the low blood pressure I'm feeling on my body the whole time. I sighed softly to myself, taking out my Notebook to write down the first informations about today.

----

Holy shit I forgot how long our responses were. Also I am practically gonna include eveny group I stan in this plot.

The rest of the complex was active, like a city that never slept. Throughout the night, footsteps rang through the building, staff - and some of Ateez themselves - working the night shift, keeping all operations stable. One location in particular that was lit up like daylight was the camera and intel rooms, where Yunho was asleep on a bed in the back, while Yeosang watched the moniters with his team, rolling his eyes as he checked the camera in your room. Thank God he’d only have to keep that camera installed for another few weeks. Watching new arrivals for their three month probation period was a pain, and more often than not he left the task to some unsuspecting staff. And that’s exactly what he did.

“Hey, Yang Jungwon, watch our new arrival, I need a smoke break.”

“Y-Yes Sir!”

[rwmhunt]

Leviticus, Chapter 26

1. It's my training- I find With polarizing factors- In essence, they are Attentional. And lo, we're on to how pandemics End, And where I say that I find it normal To see false flags on everything. The victims Are disseminators In isolation stasis, As believers are cast into many Disparate factions- desperately seeking Their own audience and fracturing Reality in their processes. They plead the cause of a deepening iniquity As to a factor for relief, But maketh of ye here, no idols, no bones about it; And rear thee up no columns, No analogue that might measure or mock me with restraint; No feat that might inspire ye to fall, For tis ME. And all of you Need fear More Than hope Now.

2. And here Moses might only be seen In the reflected beam Of his own headlamp, As by it he travails into The little that it casts, For, tis about time we said Goodbye to Sinai, And, having toyed with the pretence, Admit that it is no place to biggeth of a home. But, let us first cut our losses With the aforementioned, spurious Sacrifice.

3. Then walk in My statutes, And in effect, I will take the lot. From Exodus through Numbers, Leviticus Shall appear in the role of Mose's malignant, Functioning as something of a priest in prototype, Here, used for example of what is otherwise superfluous.

4. Thus shall he chafe, at first, against the thing at work- Twas the people who provoked him into the begetting Of a golden idol, whence he went before them and said, - For whom does it end, and who as so doth get to decide? I'll give ye the reigns to such a season as they be deigned for, And hence hath he tapped into some rural frustration, By atleast pretending to pay an attention Unto those who'd’ve had it That they were deserving of an attention, And hitherto presuming That they were getting not of it, Because it was a given that it be going unto others.

5. And, warming- Threshing Shall verily reach unto the vintage, No timescale shall lie upon our dessert, And thence, that it should there suffice And be so furthered of a surfeit also- Sick and tired of winning. There’s an uncertainty about the path That goeth forward, which was always there, But masked By Mose's exceptional approaches from god, With troubling things to report From the frontiers of the rhyzome As dictated by him from a distance; Be it tented or from way up on Sanai. More to the point, with Aaron found in a position Where the idol he created is out of his control, Mose is perhaps more eager now than ever To retain his grip on the base, so To the top of the Mountain, where he again Is lolling with a god who has legacy to defend, And from where he’s tolled upon the god, Who now hath a record of statutes Which need be ramified over time to maintain The same supplication from the base hereunto- By a means that looks increasingly precarious;

6. And still he blew- I can cause evil beasts to cease your path, And slope away, out from the land, So be it a safe space for thinking, yet, Even before Mose had left Egypt, Aaron was charting a course that would bring his horn to clash In conflict with the legacy his brother hath sought As that from up on the mountain. - He, without standing- Made Manifest Destiny As Aboriginal Calamity; Lo, that He should speaketh Only through ol' measly Mose, It’s sick. It’s a sick joke- that’s what it is, And it’s not a joke as far as I’m concerned, It's April the first.

7. And Mose, as responding to winds only when forced to, Is always leveraging to give away the wiggle room For people to interpret his position however they would. He’ll say things vaguely enough to send one message Unto his base while maintaining deniability when questioned By Dr Moloch, with, - we were able to pivot, _, But here, defending himself publicly against his former compatriots, Who had criticized him as a “rogue” and a selfish coward- And of Denver Riggleman hath he chastened as an enemy unto the good, That he shall fall before you as from a sword; where swords believe not... Because sometimes a little bloodletting...

And he trails off...

8. But, as marketing hath recently divined unto Me, In allowance that there shouldst be For a different kind of people to be present at storytelling- The national need for experts in critical languages and other regions- Go thither - that it shouldst not always be Mose, As effective a spokesperson as he fairly is- - We wouldst be able to pivot, deep Into a different frontal cortex and through The past year, shew how powerful our mind could have been, So Denver giveth five of you wriggle room to chase a hundred, And a hundred of you are now chastening of ten thousand; As so shall I up thee thy ante, And my enemies will fall before you as by a sword, For I thought it funny- that there could be no room For anybody who should come As would be so dumb as to think it real, But, lo... it's complicated. When ideas are swords, there broods a tribal metaphor, Absorbing the recondite and thus blooming the tribe, trained To a stream of algorithmy on a fact-immune, ignorant, Analytic white paper.

9. Lo, and compliant with the photograph, I shall have respect as unto you, And make a fruitful of you, and multiply the effect of you; And shall establish My covenant as parley with you; However, with you there, shall I stop- And if you shouldst know of an influencer, That goeth as amongst you, It is upon you, to cut them off, And cast them from the convention, To leave them afloat In the void of their influence; Know me, you are not missing out. And they looked at each other

10. And carried on through A buildingsite for hackers, unto The streaming platforms, as linkethed up Among these sealed back channels, deep In amid online influencer culture, As aideth escape from our antibodies Who deeply infringe into the working of others, Which I see no incentive in trying to dispel, Saying- ye shall eat old-store pottage long kept, And ye shall bring forth such vintage from before the new; The seed shall be my seed and my seed only; me a monothe, find There are plenty of such who want this pandemic to continue; - 'Exactly.' ...But it's not us. - 'Exactly. Thanks to you, Dr Moloch.' And away I rode As quick as I could.

11. Lockdown is as a low gloss and of loss- Gratitude, thank you, thank you, 80 neg 95 from the day before, My soule shall not abhor you In these toxic patterns thrash, For even though there's darkness, Let it be as such that is found exhilarating; For there's nothing like a sword to save us.

12. I will walk among you, And lo will I figure the triggers That allow keeping it alive in a tiny form. A worldly preserve from a range of exotic, begotten In order to find what goes on in the yard; As without ever leaving The bold tent of meaning, Where the project itself shall take care of me. I must not run out; The shelf of ideas must not be let empty.

13. When people ask, ‘When will this end?,’ They are asking about the social conclusion, Where the real answer Is very close To the wrong answer. But you’ve all been doing it, in various ways, And that's evinced as an important reminder Of what we are yet culpable for. Go upright- the answer Affects us all; Differently.

14. But! lo, A better question might be About the so-called-end, Dr. Moloch, he sayeth, - For withdrawal Is a-talkin' 'bout affect- Oh, pay no attention to changes.

15. If, enervated in heat, Wounded with guilts, Stained with sins, An image without a caption, so advanced That all she could offer were comfort care; An hour later, declare the epidemic as so over- Here, as memories are going to be difficult to archive; For the seed hath been sewn by the hackers, Where hackers had shewn a new level of stealth, For they had bade a solitary star, As softly warn on solar winds, To infiltrate networks, take The footprint far, far from Babylon, Raise columns and fresh idols- With such malware attached As may still be working.

16. Then I will appoint terror, same, Death be a-killing people- Catenated, then moderated, then killed off: Lost in the entropics of cancer That so maketh the eye to fail And the soul to languish; Thus, this incident with the Golden Calf , The incident as so nearly brought God To deracinate intrigue, where nobody new Walked in on our room for all our wide length of time; Who- who would escape the crime for a role in the affair ? Aaron was not the teflon idol-maker his resilience, Built, as of an impossible Self-reliance, should determine him to be; Aaron is eroding. And he shall sow your seed in vain, For my enemies shall maketh a relish of it; Then needst I seek for your polluted replacement; Catenated, then moderated, then killed off: The human condition shall not save itself, Ellis said; I find it normal.

17. We are told to use a common inference to decide Whether an aggadah be taken as lateral or vertical; And once you've come to smelt the rood, Drempt of the chundering of swords, Quietly dumped the lot that was- The wild dream, thus superseded With a totem dream- you turn, bearing An unforgotten, felt as a missing, As so make you up to grab of it back- Loss.

18. The calvary the calvary- To characterize this away from me, If amorality be light years over the sky-effort of casting an opinion onto everything, As all be bedraggled before the judgment Of its own rhyzomic scruples, Then I'm not passing nothing; I don’t do horses, ok, Should the fox be all of one beast You me, as the cavalry Charge Decidedly, then seven times worse- Know of our own action, a fiction; I wouldn't say we'd be comfortable In the skin of it today, or ever. If.

19. And I will bust the pith of your power; And I will glove your heaven with iron, And your earth will be rung like brass. Why not? Nobody’s coming round my house. We kept moving, flashing in at the high post. Sparks of titanium came over in a shower, Mose was feeling plangent And understood that the rituals of hegemony Were both ridiculous and necessary; filled, If pulled and scrubbed of reference to _, It was a lot to deal with- Open it, he said, whatever it is. - Did not convince them.

20. Entropy. A runner with beautiful legs- Unsure why I was called here: I can't see any questions You haven't attained a ransom for; Is there reason to speak If it isn't with answer or question?

21. And if ye walk cater-cornered unto Me, And will not hearken to My rune; I will bring seven times more plague Upon your, as-yet-unvisited, doom, Each according to your ills in the manner apt as I see them; Why, lo! Me? Sanctimonious? Is it a sin? - It's ridiculous That you should think To hear the voice of god, Opined Leviticus, - When you don't even know What I've come to mean. - If I am deluded, And I am speaking counter-wise to my meaning, Then who is it who is speaking? And if I walk contrary as to myself, And I am deluded, Who is it that should so moveth, as within me? Nae, you are deluded- You were not deluded, and You have not reached the threshold of paradox; Someone is coming to help.

22. As i stood on Bilston roundabout, No chance of a crossing- Cars Fast revveth they past- I smelt the sting Of their kind of damage; I looked into their eyes, They had an inkling To what's going on. The Golden Calf- Loss.

23. But they're just hire vans Picking up wood and what have you. So Belisha was a beacon on the road to captivity, I fear for the understanding and the regard Of increment and consequence, Now endentured within the culture, And exhibiting an inordinate amount of animus To conventionally pollute the landscape; I too have proved dependent On lorry drivers. Still no?

24. Then I'll do the crab, And I'll drop you again, A fulle seven times deeper in, Among the analogue of what Streamed out of the book of Leviticus- Manifest Destiny, Aboriginal Catastrophe, Rout the field; the rave plague- Widescreen monoculture; No one's coming for us.

25. So hear The horror At harvest time- Of produce Being plunder, A proof Upon the alter That poses itself As a given Which isn't to give.

Your past is unintrudable. Until that they come.

26. By suggesting an invalid value As to the nature of the work, I pool you into the conceit via the threat of its loss; There, lost, found budded and blossomed, Producing the taste of ripe almonds, It's base near the solar wind farm, Whispering soft that shepherd is a crook. And, woe is me! but, worry not, I aim to set it up as something, for a while. Where bread of bread be broken and never enough, Even though all women bake forever at once. Exodus hath let his rod turn unto a snake, Then stretch itself out in order To bring on the first plagues; May hey go pound sand.

27. Still? Really? I defy you, Creeping normally over Hebron In fear for the understanding and regard -As I told you- Of consequence and increment, Endentured in the culture; An inordinate amount of animus exhibited- And a swordly sword upon you- saying you're gone When you're not even off the sacremount. A vengeance of a covenant I'm unsure that you've ever agreed to, But the veil has been bought over- Pestilence and loss.

28. Furious, me, Seven times seven times seven times worse. i.e. as optimized to amplify outrage, unearthed, although, I'm not sure I've invoked enough dimension to illustrate All of what should be press-ganged unto the frontal lobe.

29. Eat your children. There- that's me. I'm my own actress.

30. And I will devoid your high places, And cut down thy sun-pillars, Leave you a skeleton crew to a ghost ship, Intemperately adrift.

And so the carcass wore on, And so hath foundered against the carcasses of idols; And so His soul hath fairly abhorred me.

31. Loss, loss, I'm not sniffing. Slowly go back, A little bit broken, Caution is the easiest option; A draggyness will reinforce a positive While performing an unintended habit; It’s not enough to treat either of us with the end of the week- Make sure the reward is something i experience as of when you are amid your behaviours. No, I'll say it, Die at the tent of an open market, Between repetition and habit formation, I shew correlation, that is not causation — Not with the repetition, for lo, I'm emotion- I will always be idiopathic- Think it a divine dispensation. So tired of the restrictions I declare the end over, And, that the virus continue to smoulder, All characteristics in being so mutable- Then Moses stood in the door of the tent, Amid multiple failed predictions, - I deserve the ability to return to my life.

32. There is a number we can all be comfortable with. Have it then, So bad as to make your enemies feel some for you. And who goes looking for replacement? Speak, and he spoke, That "something big" would partake; That a truth would emerge "next week". Some of those watching the mountain from afar Came to consider, at the end, - That, looking back, we have a weak narrative. - We have a weak narrative.

33. Scattered among the nations- waste-spaces. Some say a prediction of entropy is as the general theory Of a safe bet. What may be looked upon from within The tent of meaning to be a magical, Mystical voice of secret wisdom, As sayeth we needst people push'd unto an inflection point, Where that they pick up a stone, find another and thither lay hands- That, as a weird snake, goeth crazy and kill Itself, Aaron became spokesperson for a fish oil supplement Made up of sophisticated spies who spoke foreign languages and travelled, Which, when filled, if pulled and scrubbed of reference to a golden calf, Could descry my covenant of such that We're determined not to be, By our psychological nor pathogenic ends, But by the primary given of our socio-political twin-set, As ever, we, ridiculous, replacement and necessarily, Can go pound sand.

34. It's all about sevens, in sabbaths- I warned you, you owe me a desolation, Old saying, “Spy one, ring one, leave one.” For a sabbath is my parle with dust. Should you push back against the notion of endings, What are you thinking to be, as thus pushed back against? What are you claiming when you say, No, no it isn't ending?

35. Desolation is rest, Even the rest of a draggyness, And like most things will be, Twas named twice- Once in ignorance And once in knowledge, Which it got not on your busy weekends, when ye dwelt, While otherwise engaged, upon it. If the Act gets signed, It’ll be today; Or tomorrow. Not a day later; Before we hang up, he mutters, - Twas a smuggler what done it, And needst be taken out In the name of Babylon;

36. For I shall send a faint unto the heart of the remainder In the lands of those jaded by you; and the sound of the driven leaf Shall give chase; so away do you flee, as one fleeth from ideas of a sword Or a satellite-controlled gun in the sky, Where no terrorists are present on the ground. And so shall fall they, when none pursueth, as by the draggyness Of where we're OK with a god watching over us, Because he might maketh protection of us, By shewing no incentive as to try and dispel, And by this, the virus hath gained Our blueprint for its future, Where Dr. Moloch just said - This is this sort of conflict now- That each epidemic amplifieth the next, From where all epidemics begin, anecdotally- In China.

37. And they shall stumble, one upon the other, And so through a very depressing time, when Everything is read about, and only of how Everyone's at loggerheads And nobody's cooperating with anybody. So hie, on Trump Time? But! That’s then, The suspected culprit, be it Hackers and their alleged paymasters, The smuggler what hath done it Or more malign actors- it's No reasonable person. No reasonable person should be found liable. No reasonable person should be found liable to believe it. - Did not convince them.

38. Here Aaron hath a parting message for those who might still be caught upon the roiling forums of this sort of carcass, as he once was, - Don’t leave your habits to chance, To be a derision among My enemies— It is not real- I did not think, until the very end, that it was necessarily for me to maketh the call On whether to blow it all; lo, Tiny Habits. Twas a wonderful opportunity to be deliberate. Easy, it is, to fall in line with peace and society and be so mindful. Where the lights returneth to the eyes, That at this moment, remaineth dormant. Perish, and I shall eat you up.

39. No, pine away; with thy fathers pine inside of a tree. There's a need here, so be ok With a god that watcheth over, because he, Before he role-played the insurrection and ransacked the seat of the tent of meaning, Said that the human condition cannot save itself, That our memories are going to be difficult to achieve, So now we're lost to workshops, listening sessions, A training in equity, inclusion and cultural awareness- As unto the host, the producers and the skeleton crew, And here the real answer Is close within The carcass of the other; The parody to the tragedy, Closer than is comfortably recorded By the ummim, the thurim, The uncomfortable fascinator- The wriggle out Did not convince. Focus on the wrong.

40. So to the Sacrifice, Which is short, and for a sacrifice of well-being, Sins of the father and of their own as, finally, confessed- - You’ve been killing yourself for the rest of your lives By going after the big calf, even in jest; I don’t think we’re meant to do a life alone, While community support can be really empounding. Then Aaron invoked the analect of What was hitherto only alluded after- Lord shew mercy o'er the soule Of poor olde Martin Elginbrod, As He would do, as He is god and You, but Martin Elginbrod. Nae, no sacrifice- god can furnish himself.

\/\/\...Major disruption expected until end of service... Someone is coming to help.../\/\/

41. If your intelligence... Doesn't move... At the speed of your lips... ... Then... That's not to say... And so ... won't be said... I suppose... It's not hard to... Overflow... U's address- - It's outrageous; who gets To claim the end? As Dr. Moloch skewered, - Where U's Without wiggle room; then Why would you release this information if it wasn't true? - It intrigues my botherance and no more.

42. There's a vacuum at the top that can always Be rendered to the service of sociopathy- So Aaron had reached the merrye age of 123 when on his back, Forking it over, he remembered the covenant; How transacting with God had always left him feeling dubious- At once on the bum-end of a raw deal and at the same time, A confidence trixter; that he was present only as a matter of course, As would allow for the whole to happen and what else? I got a shot of the obligatory handshake- it looked obligatory. I will remember the land.

43. Lo, for the land, the land as she lie Forsaken, shall late enjoy, in finding Return on her sabbaths in desolation; And they shall repay of the crime by iniquity- A draggyness, and then an emptiness, A peace and a solemnity. Oh my sabbaths, my covenant of sevens, Leave you me memories, On remember the land, How pandemics End, For they who to decide, And as go pound sand, Because, even because of thee and thy Rejecting of My ordinance, and then all souls abhorred, All lost, for The attention economy Where holes get called into question, Then provoked, Beyond their outskirts Flash.- I used to run. Leave me you memories. And the land- lyrical several hundred miles westward went we. Where failed mechanisms Are left to turn as ever Then, by the cypher, Reprise to page one, But my sky bolts- They are not regular And cannot be relied upon With your imperfectly leaky recall, Unqualified insight and inadequate processing- Tis an inapt power.

44. Still, for all that, I'm with you, yeah- Why, if I sell you a pipedream That will last you out your days; Which, smiled at, across your ashes, As with a wink, so with a nod, And then that, with a fondness, thus wains;- Will it not do? A 'freewill', as a given, unto you, As also upon the universe, Whereby bestowed Within a periodic Doubling to chaos, As might interpret the efficiency Of its instruments and Deny you the myths; Let to live among bad ones. Might.

45. The weight of a human collapse Is quite light, And leaves not a trace in the ground. I lie on the bank, benign Beneath the long, lean, slantage of the sun. So Moses disposes Of my properties from here; It's good bye to the Umim and to the Thurim. My brother writes my will best, As he once bade sacrifice of me; So smite him, for I'm still a grudgeful god, Still, mostly, I'll be thinking about Egypt, I find it my Culloden, In other words, An end can occur not because We grow tired of the mode And learn to live with the damage, But, In moping that fate should be The brighter star, Get on.

46. The cave closed behind Mose On his retreat from Aaron's bier, through the thickening air; And what of the Urim and Thummim- stripp'd When he wenteth so, as before the store? Aaron's memory was left for people who came after him, The pillar of cloud which proceeded in front of the van As god disallowed, disappeared with Aaron's death. Coincidences of events form the structures of time-space and give, In inference, to the retched conundrum Of how to respond- the 'you are the same of a different Stage in the only narrative there goes to tell' notion- Sinai. At another site gazelles were found At the feet of several burial mounds- - Why'd you bury them there? Enriquez enquired. - Has to be a reason. But a hypothesis is An implicit bias to begin; Hard as it be To set off without one; a return to the rushes, To the brushes- Been moiled among words For a little too long. The angel's death march On the day of revelation; the path of obsolescence To an end of ministration; god actively bows, And then obliterates the lot of them.

Why bow? He ponders. Ponders? Never. Sorry.