#oh yeah changed the title

[cukrkandl]

just came across the story "the warlock's hairy heart" in the tales of beedle the bard and am i the only one who sees it as very aromantic coded??? obviously it's really shitty considering what happens and how it's presented as a fucking tragedy (sigh idk what i expected from jkr) BUT what's good is that it's definitely gonna serve a purpose in my aroace4aroace wolfstar fic lol

[umblrspectrum]

you'll never guess which movie i finally watched after 2 years of being lazy

[nguyenfinity]

Presenting EnSeason, a monthly release magazine featuring ES idols! This inaugural January issue is Trickstar following the announcement of their TRIP album :]

Image without text below the cut:

rendering got my ass on this one

[togetherness23]

Emily • The Emerald Engine

“Don’t forget to test your lamp!”

[tenderjock]

outstanding leadership, extraordinary initiative, & steadfast devotion to duty

Daniel&Jack&Peggy, and medals earned in wartime.

"You ever notice that Thompson doesn't talk about the Navy Cross?"

Peggy froze in the middle of adding milk to her tea. After a moment, she put the bottle down and stirred carefully, thoughts racing. Without turning to Daniel or letting her surprise inflect her voice, she said, "What do you mean?"

Daniel shrugged, a little jerkily. "I don't know. Everything's always bigger and better with him, you know? He'll tell you how much he earns or how long his - ah, you know, he'll brag. But he changes the topic every time it comes up."

She tapped the spoon against the side of her cup. "Perhaps he -" She broke off, struggling for the words that would turn Daniel's attention away from the issue. "Perhaps he simply doesn't like to talk about things that happened over there. We've all been there; it's never anything like the medals or newsreels seem to say it was."

"Yeah, sure," Daniel said. "It just doesn't seem like Thompson to not tell everyone he knows about it."

"You don't talk about your Purple Heart," Peggy pointed out, not ungently. Daniel stiffened.

"That's different."

"It is," Peggy agreed. "It's different for all of us."

A pair of familiar footsteps joined them at the office commissary before Daniel could respond. Peggy glanced back down into her cup and added a generous spoonful of sugar.

"I see my top agents are spending their workday productively," Jack remarked, his smirk a sharp line in his face.

Peggy shot him a rather arch look. "I see Chief Thompson is having an equally productive day," she said. "Have you admitted defeat yet?"

Jack made a face. He'd been fighting, along with Agent Faut and some rather obnoxious pencil-pushers, to balance the New York SSR's budget for the better part of the week. Most of his morning had been spent in a meeting with the senator's aide.

"I got 'em on the ropes," he said. Daniel clears his throat, rather judgementally.

Peggy isn't quite sure who he's been more upset with recently: Jack, for taking the promotion, or her, for not being bothered by it.

His attitude was a bit annoying, to be honest. Frankly, she was never going to receive a Medal of Honor or the position as New York Chief, no matter who advocated for her or what evidence was presented to the U.S. government. Daniel had to know that, too; the man wasn't stupid. And he had to realize that having Jack in charge, where they could keep an eye on him, was better than any alternative.

"We were discussing wartime medals," Peggy said instead of all that. Jack stiffened; Daniel noticed; Peggy rolled her eyes. "I once knew a man who earned an Order of the Bath for strategic actions in battle." She considered the memory. "He had terrible teeth."

"Order of the Bath?" Jack said, disbelieving.

"For conspicuous heroism taking place in a sauna," Daniel said. Both men laughed. Peggy sniffed. They had no respect, these Americans.

"What about Carter?" Jack asked, still laughing.

Peggy blinked at him. "What about me?" she said.

"What kind of awards did Agent Peggy Carter deign to accept?"

"I didn't earn any," Peggy said stiffly. "Women aren't combatants."

That's a bit of an oversimplification, she will admit in the privacy of her own mind. There were a few medals she could have theoretically earned, from the Americans and her own government, had circumstances regarding her service not been so, well, unique.

Some Englishwomen had received medals, but their service had been different than hers - usually as pilots or somesuch, not the covert missions she had in occupied France and Nazi Germany.

She may have qualified from the U.S. Women's Army Corps Service Medal, although it perhaps would have required Colonel Phillips to pull a few strings. Peggy had occupied a strange place in the war: a woman, first of all, and therefore not allowed in combat or eligible to receive medals for heroism under fire. But she had also been a spy, someone who technically didn't exist; and a British operative working for the Americans. Both sides had simply sort of - cut her loose, after victory was obtained and she was no longer useful.

It was only due to Colonel Phillips' recommendation that she had this job in the first place. Peggy pursed her lips, then shook herself out of her thoughts.

Only to find the two men staring at her like they had just been dunked in ice water. It was a bit unsettling. She took a sip of tea.

"Anyway," she said. "I actually do have work to do. Daniel, try to keep in mind what I was saying."

Jack was frowning at her. Daniel was frowning, too, but his gaze flicked to Jack once when she spoke, before he nodded.

"Sure thing," he said, and shifted on his crutch out of her way to let her back to her desk.

: :

Peggy frequently found herself the last person in the office, nowadays, with the possible exceptions being Daniel and Jack. Right now, Daniel's dark head of curls was bent over his desk and Jack's light was still on in his office, although the blinds were drawn.

They've all been working in a companionable silence for the last two hours. Daniel was eating something that smelled hot and spiced at his desk; little noises kept coming from the Chief's office, the sound of a file cabinet being opened or the desk chair being pushed back.

For Peggy's part, she's been combing through reports of gun sales to women matching Dottie's description in the tri-state area. She has found three that warrant a closer look, and was just about to get herself another cup of tea and really settle in when Jack's door opened and he slouched out.

He stopped in front of her desk. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. He stared at her for a second, looking troubled.

"Yes?" she ventured, when it became clear he wasn't going to say anything to her.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, rather abruptly.

Daniel was looking at them now. Peggy drummed her fingernails on her desk, then nodded and followed Jack into his office, where he shut the door behind them.

He then proceeded to stand at his desk, hands braced against the wood, staring blankly. Peggy was honestly starting to get worried, not that she thought letting Jack know that was a good idea.

"Chief Thompson?" she said. She didn't touch his arm, but it was a close thing.

Jack opened his desk drawer and pulled out a box. It looked like a large jewelry box and was made of navy blue leather, with gold detailing. Peggy didn't need to ask what was inside it - even if it hadn't had the name of the medal printed on it in little gold letters, she would have known.

"You should have it," Jack said. His face was grim and set.

"Jack!" Peggy said, shocked.

"You should have it," he insisted. "I don't - it shouldn't be me, anyway. And you deserve it, Peggy. We both know that." Jack glanced at her, then glanced away. "I was going to put it out on my desk but - I couldn't. I can't. You should have it."

Peggy stared at him, feeling like her heart was in her throat. Jack Thompson was a liar, and a fraud, and a self-serving, arrogant pain-in-the-arse to work with, but sometimes he still surprised her.

And, anyway, it would do no one any favors to make this into a bigger deal than it already was. She nodded, and carefully took the box and tucked it under one arm.

"I'll keep it safe," she said quietly. Then, more briskly, "Do you want me to brief you on the progress I've made in the Underwood case?"

"Christ," Jack said, rubbing his eyes. He laughed, a little wetly. "Yeah, that'd be great. Tell me you got something."

They talked for a few minutes. Jack agreed with her that there was meat in the rumor of a bank robbery being planned, although neither of them could fathom why a notorious Communist would want to rob a bank. When Peggy left his office with the Navy Cross in hand, Jack was pouring himself a Scotch, looking exhausted and like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Daniel looked up as Peggy fastened the clasps of her purse and got her coat. "You leaving?" he asked, and then considered her more closely. "Are you okay, Peggy?"

"Yes," she said. "Just, you know." She looked at Jack's office door and clutched the rectangular shape in her purse tighter. "I need to get home."

"I'll walk you out," Daniel said, still watching her. "I'm just about done here anyway."

Peggy waited while he grabbed his coat, hat, and briefcase. She had to watch her pace a bit when she's walking with Daniel, but the company was usually worth it. Tonight, she was tired and a little shaken and a bit too reflective, and she appreciated the distraction of having to make small talk with Daniel as they walked to the subway station together.

As they were waiting for her train - hers was due in four minutes; Daniel's, in six - Daniel said, apropos of nothing, "I guess I just never expect Thompson to care enough about anything to feel, I don't know." He looked across the platform blankly. "Shame or guilt or, or loss. Or anything."

Peggy looked at him. "I know what you mean," she said.

"You know why he doesn't talk about the Navy Cross." It wasn't a question. Daniel wasn't looking at her.

Peggy tucked her heavy purse tighter to her torso and breathed out slowly. "Yes," she said. Just yes, and nothing else.

Daniel nodded, still staring across the empty platform. "Is it something I should know about?"

She gave that some thought. "It's not something I'm going to tell you," she said finally. "Not without Jack's permission, which I don't think he'd give. But it doesn't change who he is, not really. It might explain some of what he's done, recently." Then, because she wanted to be honest with Daniel: "Although you may not like the explanation."

He dipped his chin to his chest. "Alright," he said, then again, quieter, "Alright."

Her train arrived, and Peggy boarded, wishing Daniel a good night. Peggy observed him through the car's dirty, cracked window, a dark figure braced on his crutch, looking down at the concrete beneath his shoes. Peggy put one hand into her purse, pressing her palm against Jack's medal as she watched him.

As the train pulled away from the platform, Daniel seemed to shake himself and turned toward the opposite tracks, where his train going the other direction was arriving.

[deadgirlwalking91]

sneak peak - 'thank you for the venom', chapter 12: 'tell me what you thought about when you were gone, and so alone'

“None of the other girls are scarred like this,” he mused, “you must go pretty fucking hard on Extermination Day.”

“I always go hard,” she found herself saying, expression determined, “every day should be treated like Extermination Day, sir.”

His head tilted as he frowned slightly. “Why? Don’t you just wanna take it easy some days?”

“I –” she swallowed, gathering her thoughts. “It’s important we take this seriously. Our extermination numbers have been dwindling for years. That’s why I went to Sera,” she added, shrugging. “I felt like with a slight change in direction, we could turn things around. The more sinners we eradicate, the less of a threat Hell will be and so, the sanctity of Heaven will be better protected.”

“Why didn’t you come to me first?” he asked, still running his fingers over her arm, his strokes no longer deliberate, but somewhat absentminded as he focused intently on her face.

It felt nice to be touched like that.

“I mean, it’s not like we���ve ever had the best relationship, have we? I figured you’d just dismiss me like usual, tell me I’m a mega bitch or a thunder cunt or whatever your insult of the week was.” She rolled her neck, wincing as she remembered the fresh bruise, which had started to ache as she stretched. Her free hand flew up to rub at it, attempting to bring herself some relief.

It didn’t work.

[hana-bobo-finch]

WOAH time for some random bug-people side characters

[razzle-zazzle]

So og u dont even call then sandstorm u call them spirit

I call them both in my head actually, it's just the AU that stayed Spirit LMAOOOOOO

[swiftsaltsweet]

Kyoshi's PR Manager-Prologue

Characters: Rangi and Kyoshi (Possibly characters from Reckoning of Roku)

Pairing: Rangshi

Summary:   Summary: During the later years of Kyoshi’s life, the world is imploding with new catastrophes. Kyoshi and Rangi have to figure out what might be the root shared cause. Will they be able to fix it, or will it be too late for Kyoshi and her legacy?

Prologue is spoiler free (will update summary later), but spoilers for Reckoning of Roku most likely later in the story. Obvie spoilers for Rise/Shadow of Kyoshi

(As cracky as the title is, this is NOT a comedy or crack fic, it’s a fix-it fic where I try to reconcile what happened in Roku’s canon TT0TT).

Other Sites: AO3 

A/N: NO spoilers for the novel this chapter.

Gd man, I was taking a break this week cause I was recovering from my sickness and then I see those LEAKS about Kyoshi from the Roku novel? Nah. Nope. Uh uh. Not on my watch. Kyoshi? Rangi? Get behind me I’ll protect you. I’ll sacrifice both my lungs and sleep for you two. 

Just the prologue for now, I still need to see the specifics of the novel when it comes out. But I have a decent idea where I wanna take this based on what I know.

________________________

Kyoshi ran her thumb down the length of the rough parchment as she read through it again for the hundredth time. The contents weren’t good. In fact, none of the correspondences she’d been getting for the last handful of years have been good. It was just disaster after disaster.

Kyoshi put the paper down on her desk, and leaned back into her chair, letting her full weight as well as the weight of the world be held up by some simple wooden pieces. She closed her eyes. Things had been going more or less smoothly for roughly two hundred years. So what changed? 

She let out a deep sigh. She could feel the sound of it reverberate around the study. Filling up all the empty space. 

“More bad news?” a charred voice whispered nearby. It was like music to Kyoshi’s ears.

Kyoshi opened her eyes to see her wife, Rangi, walking quietly into the study, tea in hand. Her features were laced with worry as she quickened her pace to be by Kyoshi’s side. Kyoshi wanted to smile in reassurance, but couldn’t find the strength.

“It’s like someone’s approached our little orderly web of strings and started yanking on it,” she paused, and then corrected herself. “Or more like, someone is taking a machete to it.” She folded her hands onto the desk and leaned her forehead against them. “It’s falling apart. Everything is going wrong. It’s starting to become impossible to put back together.”

Put back together. Her secret mantra. One that tied back to how she, her wife, and her teacher maintained their immortality. Catalog everything. Every weight, every breath, every scar. She would do it for her body. She would do it for the nations. She would do it for the world. 

Put the pieces back. Make it orderly. Everything will be fine.

But it wasn’t. Someone or something was making disruptions. It was becoming too much to catalog. And not just the physical world, but also the Spirit World too.

Seeds of chaos were being sown everywhere, and Kyoshi was only one person. She couldn’t be everywhere. The bison was only so fast. She had so few she could trust.

Rangi grabbed the letters off of Kyoshi’s desk and started putting them into separate piles. “We’ll figure it out. First, we need to triage. Which of these is more dire, who can we send in our stead-” she kept listing off what they needed to do. It filled Kyoshi’s chest with warmth. No matter how many years, decades, centuries passed, Rangi stayed consistent. Ever unyielding. Even more so than Kyoshi herself. 

She would’ve made a fantastic earthbender. She has the mentality for it. Kyoshi laughed in her head. 

“You’re right,” Kyoshi let herself smile just a tiny bit. “One step at a time.”

“All the time in the world,” Rangi smiled back, letting herself be happy that Kyoshi’s spirits were up off the ground. Even if it was only by an inch.

Kyoshi shook her head. “Maybe for us, but not for others.” 

She leaned down and started looking at the piles. Crop desolations, raids from outlaws, angry spirits threatening a village, assassinations were happening left and right.

Kyoshi picked up the letter about assassinations and showed it to Rangi with one hand, and grabbed a map with the other.

Rangi frowned at it. “Well this would explain where those rumors started…..”

“Which ones?” Kyoshi snorted. She had so many. Most were completely fabricated about her. Others were completely misinformed. Maybe one percent held the truth, but no one was interested in the story behind the truth. She didn’t care and it didn’t matter. Her job was to fix things, not worry about her public image. 

Kyoshi started poking the map with different colored pins. She went into her desk and started grabbing for colored string. Once secured, she began looping it around the pins that matched the same color.

“What are you looking at?” Rangi asked, trying to read Kyoshi’s intent through her actions. “Common theme? Looking for connections?”

“Yes, something like that.” Once she finished the last loop she started pointing to the various colors. “That represents all the spiritual events that are going down. That is for the assassinations. And those are raids and other criminal activities.” She took a letter opener off the desk, and slammed it down into one part of the map, piercing it and the table it layed on. “That’s where Grandfather is.” She gave Rangi a pointed look.

Here’s Lao Ge. 

Rangi stiffened at her look, then she frowned at the placement. “Good news, he’s on the other side of the map.” She pointed at where the assassinations were congregated. “‘Out of danger.’” 

I don’t think it’s physically possible he committed the murders. Not with that distance. Her eyes told Kyoshi.

Their eyes tore away from each other and flitted them across the room. 

They wondered if they were being spied on. Yangchen had advised her on how people used to get creative in their spy activities back in her day, and Kyoshi couldn’t help but wonder if the same thing was happening to her.

Paranoia was an illness, it twisted the mind. Questioned her reasoning. Nothing could cure it. Her only options were to continue worrying, or have her worst fear realized and have her paranoia be proven right.

Everyday she hoped the latter would never happen. Of all the things she’d want proven right, this was not one of them. 

“I’m afraid for his health,” pulling Rangi’s attention back to her. “He’s not as spry as he used to be. Perhaps we should pay him a visit?” 

We need to check up on him. Verify and corroborate he’s not the one behind this.

“I agree, he’s getting up in age. I’m sure he’s lonely, he doesn’t get many visitors. I’m sure he’d be excited to see us.”

Sounds good to me. We have a lot to catch up on, perhaps he has a lead?

“Then we should get packing and head out as soon as possible.”

“What about all the other problems?” Rangi asked. 

Kyoshi pointed to where the criminal activity was on the map. “We can hit these up on the way to see Grandfather. I’ll need to look at the letters again, and see if the ones pertaining to spirits can also be addressed on the way to see him as well.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “We’ll save addressing the assassinations in person for later. I’ll send word out to see if anyone has replacements in mind and for me to look over their qualifications while we’re in the air. I want to make sure the person is vetted thoroughly before we put them into a position of power.” 

Rangi looked at the map on the desk. “I’ll run to the library and grab some farming material based on the regions the crop desolations are in. If anything, I can at least rule out if spirits are involved with them or not.” 

“Sounds good.”

“Kyoshi, is there anyone else we’re going to take with us?” Rangi looked at her hard, but Kyoshi knew Rangi wasn’t asking because she didn’t know the answer. If anyone was listening, it was for their ears to know Kyoshi’s intent. Perhaps Rangi wanted to archive which people who did or didn’t still ask Kyoshi if she needed someone to join her? 

Of course, they could try to cover their tracks by asking, even if they knew the answer was ‘No.’ Ah, how Kyoshi hated these mind games and schemes. So much like pai sho, and she hated pai sho. 

“No, this is an emergency. Plus, you know Grandfather is wary of new people. It’s best if we go alone.” Just you, me, and the bison. 

Rangi nodded, “Then I’ll go get Byakko ready and packed to go.” She turned and headed out the door.

Kyoshi rushed back to her desk and furiously began writing the letters she needed to send out. 

___

A/N: Lord freaking knows I’m going to have to make some changes to this when I get my hands on the book (and see a line that contradicts). But I have contingency plans and the power of lies on my side! (as well as slight vagueness in wording so I can give myself the appropriate amount of “years” to work with later).  I’ll make a note in the author notes with a date indicating if I had to overhaul/update some writing. 

[scamera-writes]

the world looks better through your eyes

I’ve started staring out windows more often. Do you notice the casual biker? Do you notice the walker with their earbuds in? Do you notice the couple holding hands and pressing up to each other?

Sometimes I don’t, you can’t see everything. But when I do I am reminded of all the lives we lead Most of us will never interact with each other I will never know their names.

But I will see them. I will think about them. I will wonder what they plan on eating for dinner tonight I will wonder if they go home and call their mom Or maybe they open the door to a lovers arms

I am reminded that we live. I am reminded that we breathe. I am forever reminded that every day- We are surrounded by the mundane beautiful.

The world is beautiful in the smallest ways

I will enjoy myself until the end of time I will smile with my last breath The light in my eyes won’t leave If I have something to say about it

I don’t know what drives me to this passion Maybe it's the way I can see the stars at night Maybe it's the headlights on the freeway Maybe it’s the foliage around me as I walk Maybe it’s just how it’s supposed to be.

I can see that you see it too And when I hold your hand, When I press against your side, When we laugh like no one is watching, I’m aware of the fact that we are living:

In a world of stars, In a world of beauty, In a world of love.

And I’ve found it with you.

-the world looks better through your eyes (By me)

[maliro-t]

i'm pretty sure it was some josh sawyer interview i watched ages ago where he said something about knowing that pentiment 'isn't for everyone' and talked about that framing in general since it's such a niche project, and he was like, well yeah, it's not for everyone. neither is call of duty.

and it truly gave me so much peace lol. like ohhhh. yeah. 'objective' media assessment is nothing to me

[pwippy]

i originally captioned this as "what do you mean no one really figures life out" but thats not really relevant anymore. i. uh. long rant ahead!

[zylphiacrowley]

15. What was their experience like in Living Memory?

WoL/OC Dawntrail questions!

15. What was their experience like in Living Memory?

It was very difficult. On the one hand, X'vahl knew he had to erase the Endless and that theirs was not truly a whole or natural existence. On the other hand he questioned if that should even be a decision that should be his for the making and seeing Erenville suffering like that the entire time and knowing what the outcome had to be tore his heart to pieces. When Erenville withdrew from the group he wanted desperately to be able to be there with him, for him... He knew that if he was in the same position and it was one of his parents standing in front of him asking him to help wipe them from existence… there's a good chance he wouldn't have been able to do it. He wishes they had more time so that they might have been able to find an alternative solution, but they didn't. Now it's just another regret that he'll carry with him. Now the best he can do is keep the promise he made to Cahciua…

Thank you for the pain ask! ~♥

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Alternate AU: Turning Point

Seth had hit rock bottom, barely making it by and feeling lost. Yet he, with the unfortunate help of his old “friend”, somehow manages to dig himself even deeper.

TW: blood, violence, hinted childhood trauma, references to alcoholism and manipulation

Notes: Seth standalone story yippie! this is nearly 2,500, being decently short. Basically. Before the BPS Seth got into trouble. A lot. This being one of those instances

-----

March 14th 1993.

Seth missed his birthday again.

It was a simple slip of the mind of course, but it had been happening nearly every year; going for around a week after his birthday before realizing he missed the chance to celebrate it at all. He supposed it didn’t matter anyway, as no one was there to celebrate with him. He had spent the last few birthday’s drinking himself into a blackout with people he barely knew nor liked, though this year the option didn’t seem as fun as it used to, and he was tired of feeling like he could barely stand every morning.

Seth thought to himself as he smoked a cigarette, waiting silently as he sat on the cold bench at the bus stop. He was wearing an unbuttoned, black, cheap hoodie, along with a grey shirt and jeans. His black hair was long, draping slightly over his shoulders, and strands of it hung over his face. His facial hair was messy, and his dark brown eyes had dark circles around them. He had a few piercings, being two silver earrings and a nose ring. He knew very well he looked as tired and haggard as he felt, though he didn’t care. He just needed to get home, hoping he had enough money in his pocket for the bus there.

When he saw the bus rolling down the street, he stood up, feeling an all too familiar pain in his legs. Every single time he felt his joints pop and sting, he remembered how he should’ve gone to the hospital years ago and be given a diagnosis for once. Alas, no one believed his child self when he complained, so there he was; wondering if he was going to have to use a walker before he was thirty.

He walked onto the bus, handing the money to the driver before sitting near the back, seeing that there was no one else sitting nearby. He sighed, supporting his head with his hand as he waited for the bus to move, wondering when the last time he slept well was. After a little while, the bus stopped elsewhere in town, Seth stepping off before continuing his walk. He saw the bus pass by, seeing it roll down the street before grabbing his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting up another one as he passed under the orange-yellow streetlights.

As he walked down the street, his natural limp somewhat apparent as he moved, he passed by the local junkyard, seeing the beat up cars and metal scrap lying around the large lot. He remembered he and a few of his “friends” would hang out there after drinking at the bar, breaking random junk and talking about whatever they got into since they last spoke to each other. Now that Seth thought about it, he realized he hadn’t seen any of them in a while, and he wasn’t necessarily hoping to see them again.

He wondered if he should cut through the junkyard like he normally would, as it was quicker than going around the block to get to his apartment. However, as he thought to himself, staring at the chain-link fence, he began to hear something from somewhere down the street.

“Hello?!” The voice sounded as if it was coming from a radio of some sort, discordant and unnatural. “Can…c-can anyone help me?!”

Seth felt a pit in his stomach grow as he listened close to the sounds of whatever was down the street, suddenly feeling…afraid. He didn’t want to entertain the idea of it being one of the so called “alternates” that have been popping up frequently around that time, though when he caught a glimpse of it, he realized he should.

The thing was stumbling around, partially covering its grotesque face, which from what Seth could see, was mostly jagged teeth in a large maw. It was wearing what seemed like a police uniform, which was stained in splotches of red. It was screaming, groaning in either pain or general discomfort. When Seth saw it appear from behind one of the buildings, he backed away, looking towards the fence to his right before realizing that the shortcut was the better alternative.

He hastily climbed over it, landing on the dirt before turning around, still hearing the faint screaming as he backed away into the junkyard. He didn’t think it saw him, though despite that, he decided to walk further into the yard, weaving in between rusted cars as he tried to shake off the feeling of dread in his chest; the feeling that something bad was about to happen to him. He was almost at the opposite edge of the junkyard, seeing the other fence before he prepared to climb over it.

“HEY!”

Seth felt his soul get startled out of him before he turned around and let his breath out. Luckily, or unluckily for him, it wasn’t the owner of the property; instead…it was arguably worse. It was one of his aforementioned…“friends;” a man he couldn’t remember the last name of, though from what he remembered, the man’s name was Holt.

“Jesus Christ…” Seth sighed, staring at Holt, who seemed particularly pissed off. “The hell do you want?”

“Where were you?” Holt asked with a hint of aggression in his voice. “We haven’t seen you in over a month.”

“So what? I stopped drinking a while ago.” Seth answered. “Thought you’d figure that out.”

Seth glanced behind Holt, seeing two other goons standing to the side of him; unlike Holt, Seth couldn’t remember their names at all. He mentally called them Fuckwad 1 and 2.

“You know how many drinks I bought for you?” Holt asked. “I was just trying to be your friend, yet you never thought to pay me back.”

“Oh…this is what this is about?” Seth asked, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and throwing it in front of Holt’s feet. He stared down at the man in front of him, suddenly remembering how much shorter Holt was than he remembered. “Listen, if you’re gonna beg someone for money, go find someone else to bother, alright? I’ve had a long night.”

Seth turned to walk away, but was stopped when Fuckwad 1 and 2 stood in front of him, stopping him in his tracks; oh boy.

“Listen Seth, you don’t just fucking…abandon your friends like that.” Holt stated as Seth turned back towards him.

“First off, none of you bastards are my friends,” Seth stated, his nose twitching slightly. “And secondly, I never abandoned you. I left cause I’d rather not live off of booze and end up on the street again, okay? Why don’t you and your group leave me be instead of acting like a sorry piece of shit that deserves my money.”

Holt seemed slightly intimidated by Seth’s steely gaze, though decided to push further despite it. “What kind of pathetic, cheap piece of shit are you?” He questioned. “Look, you were nothing before we met you. We helped you get on your feet; I mean, so many people fear you now! You’re a monster in a fight against those losers, yet you thank me like this?”

“I only fought cause I needed the money, no other reason.” Seth stated, leaning over Holt slightly. “I’m not doing it for fucking glory; if anything, those fights made my life worse. I don’t care about the fights, I don’t care about you or your friends, and I sure as hell don’t need you to make things worse for me by bringing me back to that fucking bar.”

Seth leaned away, backing up and pushing the other two out of the way, preparing to head home. “You used me. I don’t think you deserve thanks.”

“Look at this sack of shit.” Holt said, looking for approval from his friends. “No wonder no one loves you.”

Seth froze when he heard that statement.

“Fuck this dude, man.” One of the other men said. “It’s not worth it.”

“What did you say?” Seth turned slightly, seeing that Holt was still staring at him.

“You think I never listened to your rambles when you were drunk off your ass?” Holt continued, despite one of his friends being visibly uncomfortable about it. “I mean…I’m sure people would like to know about your past, right?”

“For fucks sake man, let’s get out of this dump.” The other man’s statement didn’t even register in Seth’s mind.

“What the hell do you know?” Seth asked, his voice low and gravely.

“Oh…I don’t know…remember when you told me about the closet?”

That

Mother

Fucker.

Seth’s fists curled as he approached Holt, fire in his eyes. “How the fuck do you know about that?” He questioned.

Holt had a stupid cocky look on his face. “You want me to tell them about it?”

Seth’s nose twitched again before he curled his fist even harder, his knuckles popping; that’s it. He slammed his fist against Holt’s nose, breaking it almost instantly. He stepped back, groaning as he held his hand over it, his eyes watering and blood seeping through his fingers. Seth grasped the front of Holt’s jacket, holding him closer. “Listen to me, and listen close…” Seth growled. “If I catch you in my sight again, I won’t be so nice, you hear? You pull any shit, and I’ll gut you like a fucking fish, you understand?”

Holt didn’t respond, but instead gave a slight nod, his hand reaching into his pants pocket. “U-Uh huh…” He said, flicking open the switchblade in his hand. “I get it.”

Seth barely caught a glimpse of the weapon before Holt slashed at him, lightly grazing Seth’s face. He yelled in surprise, stumbling back and hunching over as he held the slash with his hand. It luckily didn’t seem to hit anything important; though it did leave a large gash in his top lip, and it lightly grazed his bottom lip and nose. It stung like hell as the cool night air hit the open wound, blood pouring down his face and staining his clothes.

“DUDE!” One of Holt’s friends ripped the knife from his hand as the other scratched the back of his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“He attacked me first! You guys fucking saw it!” Holt yelled.

“Yeah, but a fucking knife?!” The second friend asked.

“Dude, we need to get out of here before the cops get called…” The first friend sighed.

“YOU SHITHEAD!”

Holt glanced back at Seth, barely processing that he was holding a steel bar in his hand, lunging towards him with it. He didn’t have the chance to react before Seth slammed it against the side of his head, a loud yell coming from Holt as he fell to the ground, his stunned friends backing away.

“Oh fuck this—” One of them muttered before high-tailing it out of there.

Holt felt immensely disoriented, and his head throbbed from the large gash on the side of his skull, though didn’t have the time to recuperate before Seth bashed his shin with the pipe, it audibly cracking. Holt screamed again, Seth staring down at him before raising the pipe, his eyes wide and bloodshot before hands grasped the pipe in his hand. He looked to see one of Holt’s friends trying to prevent him from delivering another blow before Seth let go of the pipe and elbowed him as hard as he could in the stomach, causing him to fall nearly immediately after.

Holt saw his knife lying on the ground, grasping it before weakly standing up, nearly passing out when he felt the sharp pain in his cracked leg. Seth stared at him, storming towards him before Holt slashed at him, causing a long gash to appear in Seth’s chest, tearing the clothes over it and staining them with blood. Seth punched Holt in the stomach as he yelled, grasping Holt’s hand before wrestling the knife out of it, throwing it to the dirt below.

Seth slammed Holt against one of the old cars, cracking the side window as he began to throw punch after punch, bloodying up his knuckles and causing blood to pour down Holt’s face and chest from the gashes. Seth wrapped his bruised hands around the man’s neck, squeezing until his yells were nothing but choked groans. Holt stared up at Seth’s fury-filled eyes, though when Seth met his gaze his gaze began to soften.

Seth could sense something emitting from Holt’s stare; not cockiness, not malice, nothing even close.

He was scared.

He was fucking terrified.

Holt believed whole-heartedly that he was about to die. Seth was feared, just like he had said.

He really was a monster, huh?

Seth let go of Holt’s neck as he slinked to the ground, falling on his side as he gasped, coughing as he held his now red throat. Seth glanced up, seeing his friend on the ground around ten feet away, staring at him with pure fear in his eyes; Seth hated it. Seth focused his gaze on the man lying next to his boots before grimacing. “Get up.” He growled, half wanting to prove to himself Holt was alright, and that he didn’t hurt him as badly as it seemed. Holt didn’t budge however, barely moving at all. “G…GET UP!” Seth shouted.

Holt, whether out of fear or desperation, stood up, and limped away, his friend helping him stand when Holt made it to him. Seth stared at the two, trembling as he felt the fear coming from them. “…get out of my fucking sight.” He said quietly. Holt hurried as much as he could on a cracked leg, luckily being helped by his one remaining friend before they disappeared out of sight.

Seth’s furious expression softened as he sat on the ground, leaning against the car behind him. His elbows stung, and he could feel blood running from his chest and lip, but when he saw the blood that wasn’t his own staining his hands, he felt…sadness. He furrowed his brows, beginning to breathe heavily before grasping his hair in his hands and bouncing his leg up and down.

He felt adrenaline coursing through his veins, though could still feel the exhaustion creeping up on him. He hurt, and he had no clue how to even begin to process how he was feeling emotionally. The discomfort and pain in his body only made everything he felt more unbearable; even the cool dirt under him felt like he was sitting on cold pushpins. It was all too much, and the guilt that was beginning to set in forced the tears out of his eyes, despite how much he wanted to keep them inside.

Maybe Holt was right. Maybe there was a reason no one loved him.

[somniumfae]

thinking abt how all of gevie’s relationships w her friends involve them seeing through each other in some way

[causenessus]

in case anyone humors me and wants to try and start to feel out the vibe and ideas of the spoken-of suna smau i am so proud of its playlist the voices are telling me to share it <3 so here it is!!! (i must once again thank eggy for reintroducing me to lowertown and for all their music taste but i will not tag them bc they're sick 😭)