#one of the big reasons I learned not to trust dark souls guides

[kalina-c]

Part 3 of this extended rant about Split Damage in dark souls games lol. (forgot about how much a straight reblog makes it hard to scroll down to part 2, rip)

Part 1

Part 2 (ctrl-f "so let's count up the ways")

So anyway the really actually useful part of "split damage sucks," isn't really about split damage or even enemy defenses at all. It's about character builds and stat distributions.

Let's look at the Onyx Blade from Dark Souls 3. Split infusion between physical and dark damage, with fire on top when you use the weapon art; but that doesn't really make it a bad weapon when that's the exact same damage type as the pvp meta weapon, the Dark Lothric Knight Sword, and the fire buff on top is literally more of a damage increase than the Lightning Pine Bundle is.

What really makes it a hard pick is the four-way scaling distribution. This doesn't even make it a bad weapon on those terms, this just makes it an expensive weapon to get to its highest damage numbers and a stat distribution that's hard to fit into level limit metas or new game runs. Like at no-limit 99/99/99/99 you can, strictly speaking, get this weapon to high attack power, but it's hard to hit scaling caps in more than one stat at a time in the situations that most players would experience.

This is a build mismatch more than it is an indictment of split infusions or even multi-stat weapons. Like, again, Sword of Night and Flame in Elden Ring was one of the most broken weapons ever on the day one patch, and that's with also a four-way scaling split and three-way damage type split. It's the sheer motion value on the day one ash of war beam that made it cracked.

This isn't even a factor of elemental damage at all, really. The pure-physical quality build traditional in dark souls has actually been a sub-optimal build in Bloodborne for new players to take, with the linked endurance neglect being about the only practical way to fit it into a new game run/pvp level limit meta. Split-stat weapons are incredibly powerful in Bloodborne, with the first weapon on that list in particular (Ludwig's Holy Blade) being a popular favorite as the easy and obvious biggest AR in the realm. But the difficulty of fitting the blood levels in actually makes this pure physical build and weapon exemplify all the *actual* shortcomings behind the reaction of "split damage sucks".

And this is like kind of the reason I think the original reason for "split damage sucks" was trying an elemental weapon on the wrong build for its scaling and then blaming the weapon for it. Within Dark Souls 1, absolutely the context where the canard got popularized,

Velka's Rapier is one of the biggest ROI weapons in the history of this game design and easily the best new game sidearm for a sorcery build. (Its damage kind of falls off on latter NG+ cycles, as does twinkling titanite weapons generally in that game.)

Enchanted infusions are easily the best melee normal attack damage for a sorcery build. Great Scythe is above-average ROI, Claymore is universally good, Longsword is easy and safe, and Zweihander is one of the most fantastic weapons generally. Enchanted Rapier is probably the biggest riposte damage on a new game sorcerer.

Physical weapon + buff is kind of garbage for an all-in sorcerer and caster build. The *steep* drop-off in base damage on using a physical scaling weapon with a completely non-physical build is way more of a loss than you gain from the "superior" buff damage, if it isn't even already the case that the magic AR alone on a Magic or Enchanted Longsword just outscales anything you can get from Tin Crystallization Catalyst + Crystal Magic Weapon.

My first target goal weapon was the Moonlight Butterfly Horn, because it's one of the few 100% pure magic damage weapons in the entire series and I read that Split Damage Sucks. My friends, the purely Unsplit Damage Moonlight Butterfly Horn is one of the most mediocre weapons in the entire series. Its damage is meh and easily outclassed by a Magic Longsword; its moveset and motion values are weaker and redundant in the face of Velka's Rapier; Great Scythe is a far better mage weapon on multiple levels; etc.

So really, the common canards about Split Damage Sucks and Weapon Buffs Are Better really only make sense from the perspective of an all-in physical build with minimal dip into int for bare pre-requisites. Being a mage gender from the very beginning gave me the opposite possible experience of *checks notes* every character build common sense, take, and meta in the history of the world on Dark Souls and the Dark Souls cousin Elden Ring.

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Addendum

One of the comments I've seen among the various Carian Grandeur one shot malenia videos is that Carian Grandeur is ironically one of the weakest ashes in the game on its own, which made no sense to me. It's a comment on a one shot demonstration video, so we're clearly talking about damage output and not the difficulty of landing a full charge, and the base motion value on Grandeur full charge is already among the stronger ones for ashes of war. The motion value on soul great swords in Elden Ring generally are very high — the Carian Greatsword spell and all three great sword ashes do really high burst damage that can one shot multiple field enemies at once, and the three stage charge on grandeur gives a big multiplier even before you apply a mountain of buffs. This common reaction to magic attacks being magic really isn't helping them beat the allegations that all dark souls build theory is pure physical builds expecting pure magic tools to do maximum damage on a pure physical build with zero int or magic investment, etc.

~

Somewhere else I've gotten a comment that I'm wrong about Split Damage, because sorcery builds in elden ring can use meteor spells to get around magic resistance, and,

My friends,

Elden Ring meteor spells are the most split damage in the world

Meteor spells are boosted by physical damage buffs and will do high damage on magic defensive enemies. They'll have that portion of their damage tanked by physically resistant enemies, so it's a confirmed physical damage spell school.

But also

Meteor spells are boosted by the terra magica spell and the magic scorpion charm and the magic cracked tear, all of which only boost magic elemental damage. And it's only part of the damage, as fextra likes to call the scorpion charm boost insignificant (hah).

Meteor spells are by definition fully split damage. And not only are they split damage, they are the best damage in the game. Rock Sling deletes bosses and enemies for free, Meteorite is pretty much the strongest sorcery until you get to the snow field, and Astel meteor is by design the strongest sorcery in the game and way more damage than most every other option with whatever build. Split damage is the very specifically best damage in elden ring.

[mysticalserenity-tarot]

hii hope you're doing great, I'm SS (♑) and i would like to get a free reading. my question is how does AK ♓ feel about me? we've been friends for a year now and i want to know if he has any romantic interests in me. thank you in advance!!

Hello, SS! I'm doing good, hope you too 🤍

For your reading I got: Lovers, PoS (middle), 7oC (bottom), 7oW, Fool, High Priestess, 10oS, Temperance (top), QoP Let's dive in!

Right off the bat I got The Lovers and to say that my fingers literally got stuck on this card as if there was something sticky I take it as a sign. However, on the other hand we have 3 of Swords. Now, I don't like sugarcoating, specially in my readings I want to be as honest as possible with my querents because I believe saying all is candies and rainbows doesn't help your growth so I mention the good & the bad even though it hurts but remember painful feelings do not last. Tarot is a very useful divination tool to guide, not to please. The 3 of Swords is all about sorrow and it got stuck into my mind for some reason. I feel like one of you got their heart broken and probably more than once and this caused you worrying and fear of confessing one another. - I see your person very conflicted with the 7 of Cups at the bottom of the deck; I usually consider top, bottom, middle very important cards in the deck (each reader has their own way to read tarots). AK's mind is fighting against their heart and viceversa. Their heart is saying "go!" (The Fool), while their mind is like "do not, protect your feelings" (7 of Wands). They're evaluating whether is a good or bad move confessing to you.- Although they see you as this young vibrant soul (Page of Swords - middle) with so much desire to do but with not much experience or not as much as them. With the Queen of Pentacles he may be financially secure and nurturing or they may see you like that. But at the same time they may be fascinated and puzzled by your mysterious soul, with The High Priestess.

Remember when I mentioned the heartbreak ? here I have literally the card of stabbings in the back, betrayal, defeat. Someone betrayed them in the past. And for this reason they are unsure of what steps to take. With The Lovers I really feel like they have deep feelings for you and again we have indecision here too, as this is also a card of choices “follow your heart. But my mind is telling me to listen to it.”

With The 7 Of Wands I see they are on the defensive side, they'd rather not confess than get their heart broken one again.

I noticed in my spread we have two 7s which is basically a call for patience, trust, commitment. This number also concerns life lessons and represents those times when it's best to think about the long term rather than instant gratification.

The patience theme becomes much more prominent with The Temperance card at the top of the deck so it tells me in those times is fundamental to be patient for both you and your person.

The Fool indicates a new beginning, so I feel like they have to gain a lil bit of courage before jumping into the unknown. they believe that they have to take this responsibility and confess their feelings to you sooner or later, also because this card is standing next to The Lovers. But if you feel intuitively called, then the big step is on you. And with The High Priestess I see you being very intuitive but at the same time you should learn how to trust more your intuition, discern realities from illusions (7 of Cups).

Your person is looking to and hoping for a bright future with the 10 of Wands and 10 in numerology means completion, enlightenment. I feel like they're waiting for a sign from you if their feelings are reciprocated or not, looking at that spark of light to finally get out of the dark tunnel of broken feelings, heartbreak and again next to The Lovers. I see you're their light at the end of the tunnel, but remember they're very protective of themselves (7 of Wands). Overall, I see so much painful feelings and indecision because you both are on the defensive side, you both are afraid of being hurt once again. However, you see eachother in a bright light; nurturing, inspirational, not paying much attention to what other people think, mysterious, kind, stable. I also see The Empress, so maybe you have this powerful feminine energy on you that your person feel strong and clear.

Finally, I think you should give as much time as they need; with The Temperance on top; to elaborate their feelings (7 of Cups) and heal from this past broken heart (3 of Swords). If you feel like they're taking too much, approach them in a calm and collected way and take this leap of faith yourself (The Fool). Learn how to trust more your intuition (High Priestess) which will help you navigating through these hard feelings and maybe to a future relationship with your person. If you're both willing, but The Lovers means union, mainly. So, do not let the pain have the best of you both, do not be too defensive, open up to eachother whether may be a negative or a positive answer. Stay strong.

As a fan of Astrology (however not an expert) I couldn't help but notice your signs which confirms what I picked even more. AK is a Pisces, therefore they're more on the emotional side and you're a Capricorn, therefore you're more on the practical side. Indeed you got Queen of Pentacles which is associate with the Earth element (physical, material plane).

Hope with this reading I gave you some clarity. Any feedback will be highly appreciated (I love to hear from you guys if my readings resonate) All the best!! 🤍

[saabbi]

Regret part 7

Warmth in the freezing snow

Genshin Impact Adeptus!reader au

warnings: light angst?, mentions of drugging and syringes, probably messy, crappy quality

words: ~2.8k

Notes: series is resuming after the hiatus. I had a hard time writing this chapter (because I suck at writing) so I really hope this chapter didn't turn out to be too messy and confusing. ao3 series link

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Stepping out the ship, you’re immediately greeted by the harsh and nostalgic icy cold breeze. Pure white snowflakes that dance around your vision and the pile of soft snow beneath your feet tells you that you’re back in Snezhnaya.

You asked a subordinate to help you deliver the lantern you had bought for Teucer and obediently followed another Fatui member, who guided you to the chamber where the Tsarista is patiently waiting for your arrival.

“Your highness, I have returned.” You kneeled down on one knee, head lowering to pay your respects. The Tsarista’s ice cold gaze pierces you, making you anxious on why she summoned you.

“My loyal subject.” a voice so calm and quiet, barely to be heard, yet crystal clear and reverberates around the shallow and empty hall, sending a chill down your spine. You look up upon her call, acknowledging that she remains ever so strikingly breath-taking, as resplendent as the most exquisite flower, as elegant as Snezhnaya’s never-melting snow.

“Dottore has found a way to further enhance the capabilities of Fatui, and your aid is needed to achieve it.” She walks closer to you with each step, stopping just before your kneeled figure.

“To achieve it, your aid is necessary. I trust that you will provide all the help Dottore needs dutifully, yes?” A simple question, but her tone indicates that she does not accept rejection as an answer.

“Yes, of course.” The Tsarista seems delighted at your answer, resting her chilly hand on your cheeks and lightly caressing it with her thumb. The subtle intimate gesture however, was nothing resembling that of affection. The Tsarista’s sharp gaze remains fixated on you, yet it doesn’t feel like she’s properly looking at you at all. Her gaze has always been like that, as if she’s looking for something deeper in your soul, but not your existence.

“Dottore, come in. The final mission of our primeval harbinger shall now be performed.” The coldness on your cheeks is replaced by the sudden gushes of wind, the words leaving the Tsarista’s mouth leaving you off guard as you abruptly shot your head up.

“...Your highness? What does that-” Cut off by a harsh slam of the door, you turn to the entrance only to reveal a masked man with curly blue locks- Dottore. The condescending smirk spreading on his face as he meets your wary eyes sets off alarms in your head, screaming that this man is up to no good.

Your hand immediately reaches towards the hilt of your sword resting on your hips, ready to draw it out if he makes any suspicious movements. Furrowing your eyebrows and eyeing Dottore’s every move, unsure of what he would do.

“Relax, relax. This is all under the Tsarista’s orders, doesn’t do too much harm...I guess?” Dottore, now casually twirling a syringe filled with a dangerous-looking fluid, puts his hands up in the air in a placating manner, but his halfhearted response only makes you glare at him cautiously.

“I will have to question you on what you’re about to do, Dottore.” It’s all under the Tsarista’s orders, and you thought it would just be something about training new Fatui recruits, but Dottore’s behaviour insinuates that there is much more than that, and seems like the syringe is to be used on you.

“Oh this? Haha! I’m not quite sure, maybe knock you out for a bit? Y’know, draw out your adeptal powers to the maximum potential, I weaponise it, and voila! Fatui gets a new upgrade! Wonderful plan right?”

Dottore sure made it sound like no big deal, but you know that’s not all the catch. Because if it’s about your adeptal powers, then surely, the Tsarista’s intention is to-

“You’d better not do any stupid movements with your sword, yeah? It would be bad if you were to go against her highness’ orders, after all, you are her most loyal subordinate. Unless… you plan to commit treachery?” Dottore leered as your grip on the sword tightens, conflicted on what to do.

Reluctantly, you peered over to the Tsarista, who has not said a word at the impasse and tense situation between you and Dottore, silently watching everything unfold before her. The Tsarista’s glacial smile never fades as she meets your gaze, not giving you a definite response, but perhaps acknowledging Dottore’s words.

“That’s… not all there is to this, is it?” Despite your loyalty to the Tsarista, this question must be raised for your own sake. Adeptal energy has always been a rather sensitive subject to both you and the Tsarista, with you knowing that she has always wanted to utilise your mysterious powers to help her achieve her goals.

“Quite the sharp one huh? Well I suppose there’s no use beating around the bush, I’ll do you the favour in telling you this- Your adeptal energy is to be drained completely for us to use, ahahaha!” A fit of manical laughter jolted through him, his atrocious appearance matching his abhorrent personality.

“And that would leave me...vulnerable and powerless?” The appalling smirk that makes you want to throw up, the messed up plan that makes you want to run away from the Tsarista’s chambers.

“B i n g o! You neither have a vision nor delusion, so without those powers, you’re pretty much useless.” Dottore approaches you, barely stopping in front of you. Lowering his voice, he mumbled into your ears, “and you’ll be thrown away by the Tsarista, officially being useless to her. I’m sure you know by now, that all her highness cares about is that adeptal energy of yours, and not you yourself?” even at such a low volume, his mockery towards you can clearly be heard.

Of course you knew, that all the Tsarista’s interested in is your mysterious powers. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out her intentions in bringing you to her nation. Even after millennia of you serving her with your utmost loyalty, all she has taken interest in is your powers.

The cold Tsarista that requested you like an object from Morax as a trade of peace, and never paid you much attention. The Tsarista who only shows you some form of affection and addresses your name when she needs you to carry out her plans. To her, it was obvious that you are a mere chess piece, for her to attain her grand goals.

Despite knowing this, you still turned your head once more towards the Tsarista, locking gazes with her, searching for something that even you yourself wasn’t sure what you’re looking for in her eyes, but to no avail, the same empty eyes with no any sort of emotion returning your disappointment. That is how little you meant to her.

It has always been, a foolish hope of yours, to believe that one day, if you stay by her side long enough, you would become a figure that holds much more place in her heart. But that has never been the case, her icy heart never had space for you, locking you out. She has enough love for all the other harbingers, all except you.

The best course of action right now, is to draw out your blade and resist against the Tsarista. You have to defend yourself, you have to get out alive and well, because you promised Zhongli, Xiao, and Ganyu to return. You have to unsheathe your sword right this instant.

But your hands remain frozen, disobeying your commands and desperate internal cries. It should be simple, to protect yourself against those who could not care less about your existence and never acknowledging you, and flee to Liyue. So why can’t you bring yourself to do so?

Because it would mean that you’re defying the person whom your loyalty is dedicated to, denying the Tsarista’s ambitions.

The same Tsarista who ripped you apart from your family, but also the one who gave you a new identity, and a new place to call home, giving you a reason to live on by serving her.

And you who watched over her carefully throughout your lifetime; when she became obsessed with the idea of bringing down celestia, to the point where delusions are invented just for the sole purpose of resisting against the sacred land where gods are rumoured to reside.

You never found out the reason behind her obstinacy in bringing down celestia, but you stayed beside her long enough to witness her desire for power and authority to continue to expand into a bottomless abyss, and the times when she struggled.

Times when her immature plans backfired, times she felt livid and Snezhnaya would be in raging blizzards for weeks, times when she doubted her own decisions. You were always there, by her side and ready to jump into action whenever she needed you to.

Through trial and error, she learned to develop well thought-out plans after calculations and taking precautionary measures, and recruited talented individuals. The harder she falls, the higher she bounces. She was undeniably a dazzling existence to you.

The Tsarista is a blinding lone star that continues to glisten even if other stars have faded, showing its resistance towards the devouring night sky. Someone so cruel and brutal, yet ever so resplendent, that you couldn’t peel your eyes off her.

A star that defies the night sky.

And you, who only knew how to live under orders and pretty much lived a tedious life besides carrying out Fatui duties, are dull and have long succumbed to darkness.

So how could you deny her? The one who never faltered, the flames of ambition that refuses to die out no matter what? You couldn’t bring yourself to betray her even at this very moment, because you have watched over her for far too long.

“This turned out to be rather...disappointing.” Seeing you loosening your grip on the sword and putting down your defenses, Dottore scoffs.

You take a sharp inhale, making up your mind. Regretfully, your decision is to stay loyal to the Tsarista and faithfully do as she wishes up until the very end. A very foolish decision even you are aware of, and one that makes your heart scream in agony knowing that you’re once again being thrown away. Even so, this is the path you have chosen.

.

.

.

Drained, you felt. It felt as if your powers erupted all at once, and got sucked dry by a vacuum cleaner and left to die on the road. Your role as the twelfth harbinger has been dismissed, now just an identity-less wanderer. The Tsarista truly is a cruel person, you thought, to just throw you out and let you crawl away all by your own whilst surrounded by nothing but coldness and snow, knowing that you right now are incredibly weak and vulnerable. She didn’t even have someone to escort you to a shelter, simply took away your harbinger identification with the usual eerie smile.

But archons do you feel horrible, dizzy and nauseous, on the verge of passing out. Now that you’ve lost your place, where would you go? Tired, cold and nowhere to go, you lean on a nearby bark to grab a hold of yourself, trying figure out what to do from now on.

Slumping down and shutting your eyes, you are forced to face your own emotions that you have repressed in the Tsarista’s chambers. Your heart aches so much, the strong pulsations being the only thing resounding in your ears, it hurts more than how your body is right now.

What a pathetic destiny you face, to be thrown away whom you trusted and served twice in your lifetime. It hurts so much, your heart continuously screams to you, not forgiving the way you hurt it so severely. So pathetic, you are so pathetic, you thought.

Even after millennia, you still never found a place you truly belonged to, your miserable and pathetic self was not accepted anywhere. You know very well the Tsarista has always been using you, yet facing the harsh reality is not as easy as you thought.

Wouldn’t it be better if the abyss consumed you? To be embraced by darkness and vanish, not having to face pointless emotions and drama? If only your eyes never opened back from the first time you dirtied your own hands, and instead swallow by the cold and hungry arms of demise- if you only died back then, would you still have to face such circumstances?

“...Hey, comrade.” a light whisper of a familiar voice enters your ears, dragging you back from your thoughts. You looked up at the one who called for you, only to find your vision blurry and cheeks feeling wet and cold. You didn’t even realise droplets of tears had trickled down your cheeks, you are even surprised that you’re capable of crying, you hadn’t shed a tear, let alone cry out loud for so long that you had forgotten how it felt.

Childe crawls closer, slowly wrapping you into a warm hug and gently strokes you on the head like how he has treats his siblings. You feel embarrassed to be comforted by someone much younger than you and being treated like a child, but returned the hug nonetheless. Not knowing how much you needed a hug, you find his embrace to be pleasant and safe.

“There’s a ship heading to Liyue, so let’s get you home to where it’s warm and safe, yeah?” Home, Childe said, you wanted to retort, but somehow ‘home’ and ‘Liyue’ just sounded right. Is it okay if you return there? To seek asylum?

“Come on comrade, it’d be devastating if you missed the ride!” slumping your weak arms over his shoulders and a hand on your waist to support you, lifting you onto your feet to lead you to the harbour.

“I-I’m sorry for what happened, and that I...I couldn’t help you. If I had known what Dottore was scheming, I would have talked to the Tsarista and convince her not to adopt such a brutal method.” His cheery voice is replaced by one with remorse, avoiding your eyes.

“I didn’t know Dottore came up with such an outrageous method, the Tsarista didn’t inform us of her plan! I- I should’ve known Dottore was up to no good! I could’ve done something-” Getting agitated, his speech hastens and stumbles over his own words.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you know it’s not your fault.” You cut him off, giving him a soft slap on the back. “The Tsarista had such plans a long time ago, she just...never found the right methods until today, I guess.”

Somehow, it only made Childe feel even worse, guilt and sympathy all shown on his face.

“Come on, where’s your usual jolly self? A gloomy expression doesn't suit you at all. Teucer and Tonia will be worried for their #1 toymaker of Snezhnaya.” you mustered a feeble smile, assuring him that you’re fine.

“Well, never thought I’d hear you crack a joke after all these years…” Childe’s lips curve into a relieved and playful smile. Although, you have to admit, it does makes you feel better knowing that he’s worried for you.

.

.

.

“This is the Crux, you might’ve seen their crew around Liyue before. I spoke with the captain, and it’s a huge relief that she accepted our request!” You and Childe stumbled into the guest room that is kindly lent to you, with Childe immediately helping you get on the bed and wrapping you in blankets.

“You had a not-so-pleasant eventful day, it’s best if you warm up and rest now. I can’t go back with you, but I’ve contacted Zhongli, he should be there to pick you up when you arrive.” with a soft tone, Childe picks up your hand and gently strokes your palms, taking a note of your pale complexion, you remind him of his siblings when they were sick. He turns to leave you alone, about to close the door.

“Hey, Childe?” He abruptly stops and turns back to you with a concerned look, worried if you’re still feeling unwell and perhaps he could help.

“Thank you.” but only two simple words came out of your mouth. So simple and short, but more than enough to convey the gratitude and respect you held for him.

Childe breaks into a beaming smile, “Of course! We’re friends after all, right comrade? I think I’m even your best friend!” to which you chuckled. Yeah, you suppose he isn’t wrong on that.

Just before he closes the door completely, he halts and opens his mouth, “Teucer adored your gift, he and Tonia wanted to prepare something in return… I’ll bring it to you next time, yeah? And perhaps drink tea too at Zhongli’s?”

“Yes, I shall look forward to dear Teucer and Tonia’s gift then, it’s a promise.” You feel your consciousness slip away, closing your eyes and replying to Childe with a light smile on your face.

“It’s a promise!” He enthusiastically replied, only to realise he should tone it down to let you sleep in peace. “Sweet dreams, comrade.” Just before passing out on your bed, you hear Childe’s almost inaudible reply and a click on the door shutting close.

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[yoonsshadow]

ETERNAL - v

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; smoking, mature conversations

➳ word count ; 3k

➳ note ; Thank you for your patience!

masterlist

Fear is a fist that clutches your heart, reminding you of its presence each time it tightens its grip. It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but you can feel the strength in its hold; the raging tendons wrapped around your tender organ that strain with each heartbeat. A singular emotion controlling your very pulse.

Cigarette smoke billows into the indigo hour of the night, and you find yourself unable to pry the fingers away.

The air on the balcony is cold, but it envelops you in a comforting embrace; it’s a soft coolness, as opposed to the harsh, biting climate of the desert that you’ve become accustomed to. Your skin prickles with goosebumps, but you don’t feel the need to scratch at yourself, to tear the skin from your flesh. It makes you feel alive, even if the definition of that word has changed for you.

Evidence of your newfound immortality, if that’s what you can call it, dangles between your fingers, ashes falling to the ground several storeys below with each gentle tap. It tastes terrible⎯⎯a bitter flavour of death in every pull⎯⎯but it serves its purpose for now. It keeps you grounded, gives you something to focus on other than the slowly growing anxiety that still holds strong in your chest.

Behind you, the balcony door slides open, startling the silent air with its soft drag.

“You’re up late,” Namjoon says. He speaks soft, low, as if hesitant to disturb you. “Or early, I guess. Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

You breathe out a puff of smoke, watching as it dissipates into the darkness. “I’m not.” He steps into your periphery, leaning on the metal railing beside you. “I just needed...something. Found them hidden away in the bookshelf.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Figures. We’re usually a non-smoking household, but sometimes the boys get sneaky. Pass me one?”

You hand him the box. Only two cigarettes left. He brings one to dangle between his lips and, without asking, you hand him a lighter. It takes him three tries, and then he’s sighing smoke into the air as well.

“Thought you were a non-smoking household.”

“We are. Stinks up the place, and it tastes disgusting. But. When in Rome.”

“You calling me Rome?”

He chuckles, but doesn’t answer. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head, despite knowing that he isn’t looking at you. “Too much on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

He blends in with the shadows, slightly, though the peaks of his cheekbones catch the dull light that glows through the mist of pollution. “I get that. Would you rather me talk?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Not really.”

So he stays. Until the embers begin to burn your fingertips; until you’re snuffing your cigarette on the metal rail. You don’t think you’ll smoke again. You suppose it doesn’t matter, though. There’s forever ahead of you to change your mind.

Sunlight is just beginning to illuminate the buildings around you when Namjoon speaks up again. He stubbed his own cigarette before it was even halfway done. 

“I’m sure you’re curious,” he says. “About us, about the situation, about everything. And we’ll tell you as much as we can, but...There are some things the boys won’t feel comfortable telling you about just yet. We’ve lived long lives. We’ve done good things and bad things; experienced things we’re proud of and things that haunt us. We may not die, but we’re still human. I hope that you don’t mind being patient with us.”

Your heart aches a little at the melancholy in his tone, as if you wouldn’t give the world for these seven men after knowing them just a day. It feels as if your soul has missed them for a lifetime.

“Namjoon.” He turns to face you, now, and a halo of soft light glows around his face. “I don’t know what you’ve all been through, and frankly, it’s none of my business. If you want to tell me something, I know that you’ll do it in your own time. I’ve got the rest of my life to get to know you all, okay? There’s no rush.”

His smile starts as a twitch, a quirked corner of his lips, but quickly grows wide. Relieved. 

“I’m glad it’s you,” he says. He offers no elaboration, no further words, but you think you know what he means. Because you’re glad it’s him, too. You’re glad it’s them.

With breakfast comes clarity. As you sit at the large dining table, bowls of rice, soup, and several plates of banchan steaming into the morning air, you find yourself feeling calmer than you have since your death. It’s as though the raging tides of emotions⎯⎯uncertainty, confusion, downright fear⎯⎯have finally quelled into a tranquil body of water. There is sure to be a ripple sooner or later, but for now, it is completely still.

Yoongi, the cook of this morning’s feast, takes the first bite, and the rest of you follow. There is so much that you want to say, so many questions that you want to speak into existence, but the bitter taste of apprehension bleeds through even the delicious taste of your meal. You feel like you might choke on it⎯⎯the taste and your words both⎯⎯but your throat closes before you can even swallow.

Ah. There is the awaited ripple.

Perhaps it is the hours of silent companionship, or simply his centuries of wisdom, but Namjoon seems to sense your internal struggle. “If there’s anything you want to ask us, Y/N, go ahead. We’ll answer to the best of our abilities.”

Your throat eases and your tastebuds return to normal. “Well…” Where do you begin? What questions do you ask potentially ancient beings? “I guess let’s start with what this,” you wave a finger around the table, at the seven other sets of eyes who watch you patiently, “is. The situation.”

Namjoon nods slowly. It seems he’ll be taking charge for this conversation, much to the visible relief of the others. “Even we aren’t completely certain of what exactly this is,” he says. “From what we’ve learned, our death granted us immortality, or something to that degree. We cannot die, nor can we get majorly injured. Any wounds heal quickly, and any illnesses metabolise out of our system before they can affect us.”

You nod. All of this you were already aware of.

“As for this,” he continues. He looks around the group, fighting back a fond smile. “We’re all connected. When someone else becomes like us, we all see visions of each other to help us find them. The same happened with you. You saw visions of us when you slept, and we saw visions of you. That’s how we could find you. The dreams gave us enough information to figure out who you were, and then it was a matter of locating you.”

“Which wasn’t easy, by the way,” Jimin adds, though there is no annoyance. “Your files were so deeply buried that we thought they might not exist. And don’t even get me started on accessing the satellite.”

“You hacked a satellite?” You can’t hide the shock in your tone, and you don’t miss the glint of mischief in Jimin’s eyes.

“That’s not important,” Namjoon says, taking control of the conversation once again. “What’s important is this: the eight of us are intrinsically connected now. We might not get the visions anymore, but we are still linked. The easiest way to describe it is that we’re soulmates, though that might not even be true. We were destined to find each other, to be immortal together. Whether it’s for some higher purpose, or just a random curse, we don’t know. It’s better, I think, if we don’t try and find out that reason.”

Now that confuses you. “Why? Isn’t it human nature to be curious?”

Hoseok scoffs. “I don’t think we fall under the definition of ‘human’ anymore.”

You’ll have to file that away for later.

Namjoon ignores Hoseok, and looks straight at you. “If we become too enveloped in trying to figure out the big ‘why’, we’ll get lost in ourselves. We’ll lose our own sense of purpose. If we were chosen, for whatever reason, then we have to trust that our instincts will guide us to do what is needed.”

“Okay.” You suppose he’s right. “Then, could you tell me how old you all are?”

“We don’t do ages,” Taehyung says. He sounds almost amused. “We know the age we were when we died, but we don’t keep track of how long we’ve lived after that. It’s a rule.”

“Then how about...generally? Who was the first? How did you all die?”

All eyes turn to Namjoon. Honestly, you can’t say you’re surprised.

“I was the first,” he says. A faraway look takes over his eyes, as if lost in the past. Seokjin puts a grounding hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t figure out my actual age if I tried, but it was...a long time ago. I was the chief of my village. Killed for power. The story isn’t too interesting.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Yoongi clears his throat. “I was the second. A slave to some tyrant who thought he was all-powerful. Killed in front of the other slaves to put them in line.” He shrugs, but doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

Hoseok is quick to speak next, his words are short and curt. “I was third. Court execution.” He seems reluctant, as if guarding his past behind the tightly-locked gates of his crossed arms, but you mean what you said to Namjoon earlier; you will wait for them. For however long it takes.

Next is Seokjin, and you have a feeling that his theatrics are for Hoseok’s benefit. “I was the lucky fourth, and a king, at that! Though I was only in the position for a few hours, and all public records of it were thrown into the river with my body. Which is a shame, really, because my portraits deserved to be in museums for all to marvel over.”

“Um.” Jeongguk seems nervous, and you see him hide his shaking hands beneath the table. “I was next. I died of...natural causes.”

“And we came as a set,” Taehyung smiles, arm slung over Jimin’s shoulders. “Died at the very same moment, and woke up the same way! We were best friends, right, Jiminie? On the opposite sides of a war, but I loved him with my whole heart.”

Jimin nods, a wistful smile pulling at his cheeks. “I remember thinking that I was so lucky, to die in his arms. To never have to live a single moment without him. And then we found the others, and I thought that I must’ve been in heaven to be so fortunate.”

“We’re all together,” Namjoon elaborates, though it’s unnecessary. A blind man could see the way they feel about each other. “It may be because of circumstance, though I like to think that it’s because we were all meant to be. Like it’s a gift from the universe, allowing soulmates born in different centuries to find each other.”

“And now you,” Jeongguk whispers. His eyes glimmer, hopeful, and so young despite the obvious years he has over you. You wonder why he doesn’t seem as emotionally aged as the others; what could cause him to cling to his youth the way he does. It doesn’t matter, though. If it means he keeps his heart, it will never matter.

“We don’t expect anything from you,” Seokjin says. “Not romantically or even platonically. You are still your own person, and if you don’t want to be a part of this, in any degree, we won’t force it.”

You are thankful for that. It takes away a pressure that you didn’t even know you had until now. The thought that this is a choice⎯⎯a decision that is completely yours to make⎯⎯relieves you to no end. And yet... 

“I don’t think that’s a decision I can make right now.” You mindlessly arrange the chopsticks on your now empty plate as you try to summon the right words to explain yourself. “There’s so much that I need to figure out, and so many things that I feel I have to do. I don’t even know if I’ve properly processed the situation yet, or if I’m simply in shock.”

“Is there any way we can help you?” Yoongi, as always, seems so genuine. So heartfelt. 

“You already have. So much more than you’d believe.” And it’s true. Independence is your life. You may have been in a team in your old life, a leader of a small group for whom you were responsible, but you were always brought up, always trained, to survive alone. To find comfort in an existence of solitude. Because that’s what the military is; it is removing yourself from others, from the world. You were in a team, sure, but you were all alike in your aloneness. Alone together.

Now, you have this group of men who, without knowing you, have plucked you from your misery and now offer you everything. Offer themselves, their companionship, their help. You are not the one responsible, the one with everything on the line. They have taken that from you with gentle hands, and you give it away gladly. There is not much else that you could ask of them.

Except. Well, maybe there is.

“But…” You trail off, and their eyes just scream patience. You don’t know how they do it, how they’ve grown to be so effortlessly composed and serene, because right now your heart is beating in urgency. It batters against your chest, yelling at you to just ask them, now, but your words falter in sudden uncertainty. They have already given you so much, offered even more; can you truly ask for the help that you now realise you may need?

You look into their eyes again, and know that the answer is yes.

“This mission,” you continue, sitting up straighter. If you speak with confidence, perhaps you’ll start to feel it. “As far as I know, it was never completed. When our team went in, it was under the belief that we’d be able to rescue all of the children safely and relatively unseen. Someone on the inside tipped them off, but they had to have had a reason. They wouldn’t have betrayed us like that unless something was wrong.”

“You speak like you know exactly who it was,” Hoseok says. It isn’t a question, and you see it in his expression that he isn’t necessarily looking for an answer.

You won’t give him one. Not yet. Not until you’ve figured out for yourself why this person would’ve left you for dead. “That isn’t important right now,” you say in lieu of a confirmation. “What matters is that those children are still out there somewhere, and there’s a leak in the operation.” Releasing a deep sigh, you slump down a bit. “I’m going back to the desert, back to the base, and I’m going to save those children. If you would like to help me...that would be really nice.”

“Of course we’ll help,” Jeongguk says, without hesitation. There’s a resoluteness in the set of his jaw that you haven’t seen in him before. “Anything you need. We mean it.”

“We should talk about this plan of yours first, though,” Namjoon says. “As far as the military is concerned, you’re dead. You died with your team. If you go back to your base of operations, that’s just going to open up a whole lot of complications for both sides. They might think that you were the traitor, being the only survivor. We’ll need to operate with a certain level of stealth.”

You were worried about that. Your dog-tags are with the rest of your team’s, your body supposedly burned along with theirs. You won’t be able to reprise the role you previously played in this, and you won’t have the military support that you once had. If you do this, it will be in the shadows, hiding behind corners and turning away from cameras. You are a ghost now. You’ll have to act like one.

“Okay,” you say. “I understand; we need to stay hidden. But there is one person that I need to see face-to-face. I can promise that they won’t do anything to endanger our identities.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Jimin says. “Trust is one thing when you’re alive, but if they’ve been mourning your death, you can’t know for sure how they’ll react.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you affirm. “I trust this person, and I’m going to need you all to trust me.”

Taehyung bites his lip in contemplation. “It isn’t that we don’t trust you,” he says, “but we can’t fully trust the situation. We don’t know this person, whoever they are, or how they’ll use this information against you. Against us.”

“I get it, I do.” You can’t help but sigh. “But this is something that I need to do, and something that I will do regardless of whether I have your permission. I won’t let my decision affect any of you, but if you decide against helping me because of this, I’ll understand.”

Yoongi leans forward. “We’re going to help you.” His tone is final. “And you’re right, this is your decision to make. We just want to make sure that you completely understand what you’re potentially getting yourself into.”

“You are all a lot older than me,” you say, “and obviously much wiser. But I’m an adult too, and I’m mature enough to know that my actions may have consequences. I’m no stranger to making tough decisions, or to taking responsibility. I may not be a Captain by rank anymore, but that doesn’t change who I am.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says. He doesn’t argue, nor does he apologise, but he doesn’t need to. There is a mutual understanding in the way you look at each other, and nothing more needs to be said. “So, what’s the plan?”

You take in a deep breath, and prepare your mind to return to the place you’ve grown to loathe.

< prev - next >

tags: @leafyturtle, @loveyoongles, @paint-music-with-me, @barbikatherine, @itsmorgo1604, @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @veronawrites, @applepie1000, @yoonchrisgullwrites, @ally22042000, @ireallylikefoodandyoutube, @blglmgk01, @basicgukk, @softescapism, @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered, @m1nt-3lla, @hunnayesblog, @rosycheekb, @hemmofluke, @the-bisaster, @katbonv, @borahebangtan​, @monodroppp, @skyys-universe

[prose-for-hire]

Amend and make do

[Very late 12 Days of Christmas fic]

Pairing: Angel x reader

Request: for Christmas could you please write a angel x reader fic set in S1 of ATS where Angel is anxious and troubled by last Christmas (Amends) so the reader waits the day out with him to stop him from spiraling, distracting him when they can and comforting him when they can’t?

Requested by: Anon

A/N: I re-watched amends and cried at the end lol. This isn’t so Christmas themed, but it happens on Christmas Day 💜

It was Christmas. Often, this time of year was like marmite. People either loved or hated it. But to you, it was just there. Some years you could have a child-like reverence for the holiday with others it just happened to be some day towards the end of the year.

However, there was one year, before you and Angel became lovers, where Christmas really sucked. And that’s the poetic term for it.

It was because of the way he looked that evening. He obviously hadn’t slept that day. He was traumatised. A shell of himself. You had never seen him this way before.

The mask had slipped. The one he would usually present to you all. It was the first time he had let you in this way. Thought to ask for help. He trusted you and he looked terrified.

The office was closed for the few days surrounding Christmas. The helpless would have to stay that way over this holiday period. You had had the rest of the weekend off too, Angel had a soft spot for you and it had been the talk of the office while you had been away. By talk of the office I, of course, mean that Doyle and Cordelia were gossiping about it while waiting for the phone to ring.

You came back on Christmas Day though, just as the moon had started to rise in the sky. You had forgotten something that you no longer recalled once you saw him there. It didn’t matter anymore.

The office had been closed and it was dark. But you had a key. A biting wind whipped around you as you turned the key in the lock. That unsettling sense of foreboding that sent a deep chill straight to your bones.

You wrapped your jacket around you as you stepped into the dark room. The Christmas decorations were still up, you would have to take them all down tomorrow. You never really liked taking the decorations down, no matter what you were feeling about the holiday. It just appeared kind of bleak to see space where there had been something there before. Made the room bigger. Emptier.

You moved around to where your desk was, shuffling in the dark. You didn’t bother with the light, the moon was high in the sky and cast enough for you to see to walk. You didn’t want to disturb Angel who may be in his home below, he was sensitive to noise so even a light switch may waken him.

But you soon found that there was no need for you to be quiet. You could see the outline of a figure. Of him.

The small filtering moonlight cast upon his face. The dim glow allowing you to see his disturbed form.

Your heart sunk at the sight of him. He was dishevelled and in the same clothes you had last seen him in. His head was in his hands and he was crouched on the floor in the corner of the room. He kept muttering something over and over.

Something about amends.

You instantly moved to his side, dropping to his level. You were on your knees beside him. You very slowly snaked a comforting hand around his shoulder. The care that he didn’t think he deserved.

You asked him what was wrong, he was silent for a long time. But he slowly managed to look up. He of course knew it was you, your scent was heavenly to him. He usually didn’t stand so close because he was sure he would be sent straight to hell for even looking at you for too long.

After a while he spoke, his eyes almost staring through you. He was trapped inside his mind. He said that he was struggling. You tried to coax him further but he was silent again.

You were concerned, your brow furrowed as you tried to comfort him. He couldn’t sleep, had fitful dreams.

“I-I don’t think I can do this” He admitted slowly. You knew immediately what he meant. Everything. His past. The present. Destinies and living in a world that you had once savaged in your own name. He was battling against his own mind and your heart ached for him.

“You can. Of course you can”

“Y-You don’t know who I am. Wh-at I’ve done to people”

“I know enough to know that you will never hurt people the way he would. The demon isn’t you, Angel” You insisted. Of course you knew about Angelus, he had been stupid to hope you could look at him and not know about his vile actions.

But when he dared to look back into your eyes, there was no hatred. No disgust there. The only thing he saw as he looked into your eyes was your sincerity. It penetrated through that cracked exterior of his.

The cracks were getting wider. He was letting you in. He found himself wanting you to know him, to know what it was he felt. He had never felt he could speak on it. To put it into words would surely make the guilt worse. But it was you.

He had been drawn to you since you had first met and he wanted to be honest with you. He wanted so much to spend long evenings talking through his trauma, and to assist you and listen to yours. But he was scared to admit it.

He took a shaky breath before he spoke, his hand running through his hair and back again before he said it. The guilt wracked through him. It was so strong you could almost feel it yourself.

“Last year, at this time I was plagued by visions. Visions from my own past, the guilt I couldn’t bare it and I’m… I’m afraid that the demon is gonna return” He said this sentence with such clarity. As if he were performing on stage and he was allowing the back row to hear his intimate emotions. Thoughts.

You nodded slowly, taking his hand in yours. That had been a big thing for him to admit.

“I understand, but this-this isn’t who you truly are. You are a man of strength. You are the most courageous and understanding person I have met since I moved here and what happened to you, what you and all of those people at the demon’s hand went through was horrible. But it’s not you anymore.

He stopped you, explaining. Telling you horrors that you couldn’t even fabricate in your nightmares. Of killing and torture. Of blood and conquest.

You recoiled, of course you did. But your hand never moved from where it rested in his. He expected it to. Willed it to because he didn’t feel he deserved your kind eyes. Your understanding nod as he spoke.

You were left in silence for a moment. You saw his eyes were wild with the memories as fresh as if they had just happened. Of the things he had spoken about. A film playing behind his eyes.

You knelt now, moving closer, taking either side of his face in your hands. You touched him with such care, guiding his face towards yours. You stroked his cheek softly, “I know it’s not going to leave your mind - this guilt. Because it’s a measure of who you are, Angel. A good man” You whispered, “So, let me stay with you? By your side?”

“You want to be here, on Christmas?”

“You spend time with those you love. And I love you, Angel. Beyond hope or reason” You whispered as if it were a casual admittance. You loved him and you weren’t ashamed to tell him. You needed him to know that there was nothing he could have said to change this.

“You can’t mean that, after everything I’ve-”

“I have faith. In you… in us. We can last a night. This night. Together.” You spoke firmly, but you allowed him to make the final decision. You wouldn’t force yourself upon him or make him recount more of his misery if he couldn’t bare it.

He thought for a moment before nodding at your words. Yes. He wanted you there. He needed you. He didn’t think he could have lasted that night. He was barely hanging on when you entered the office. The First hadn’t been there, but the guilt still had been. The violent flashing of images. The theatre of horror he had created inside his mind.

It was a release for him when he agreed to have you with him. To share his burden, even if it had barely scratched the surface on his sins. The confession had shocked him and he didn’t feel he deserved your kindness. He wasn’t a good man. A righteous man. But he wanted to be. God, did he want to be.

He collapsed into you, his face hidden. You wrapped your arms around him as if you could protect him from everything that plagued him. His arms clutching at you as if you were the last thing in the world. In his world. His shoulders wracked with emotion. Silent tears fell and he leaned into you. Clinging to you, his hands gripping you tightly.

You held him close, fighting off your own tears so that you could be strong. For him. He let you in from that moment on. It was a silent bond that you would forever cherish. You now possessed the fractured mirror into his mind, the only piece left belonged to you. His soul spoke to yours in a language only you could understand.

This was something he could share with you. Only you.

You would be there for him, you stayed up together through that night. You held him when he started to get in his head again. You spoke and helped distract him. He would never be free from the guilt but being by your side was as close as he could ever get.

This was the start of something profound. You both felt it.

He learned to rely on you, to trust you so deeply. He was determined to become the man that you were sure that he was.

[fresh-prince-of-denmark]

Analysis of the Devil Ending: Who Died and Left Aristotle In Charge of Ethics? (Pt 5)

Hello and welcome back to me over-analyzing everything in Cyberpunk. If you haven’t read my other posts, please read those first! (V’s Mikoshi Poem, Johnny’s Mikoshi Poem, The Sun, New Dawn Fades).

This part took me a lot longer to complete. Not because it was particularly long…it was just painful. Jesus Christ. I hated every second of this ending. That shit hurted.

There were a few shards located at Arasaka’s estate that I chose to skip, as I did not find ant that were unique to the location. The three the game seemed to want to draw your attention to were actually not scattered as shards, they were spoken-word. The only shard I was able to find was a portion of The Odyssey. The other two pieces of literature are In Kyoto, which is quoted to V by the guard to takes her to the hospital room, and (what I believe to be) a reference to Plato’s The Allegory of the Cave. This section is going to be super theoretical. Like, more theoretical than the rest. So bare with me please.

Let’s start easy. This is the poem that the guard quotes at V as he leads her out of the operating room:

In Kyoto,

hearing the cuckoo,

I long for Kyoto

(By: Basho, translated by Jane Hirshfield)

Ten words. What could ten words amount to? The saddest goddamn words you’ll ever hear, dammit.  This poem is a feeling more than a concept. Ever feel homesick when you haven’t gone anywhere? Lonely when you’re around other people? That’s V. This was supposed to be a victory, supposed to be what they wanted. But now Johnny’s gone, scorned and betrayed, and no one they calls seems to even be able to give V the time of day. This was supposed to be a victory, their way of going back to the way things were, getting their life back, going home. But we can never go back, can’t ever erase our experiences, what we learn, how we grow. As Misty says, we should not fear change in of itself, but who we might change into. This just goes to show what happens when we betray ourselves by rejecting our own growth: all that’s left is bitterness and sorrow.

The next day when V wakes, you can pick up a shard containing a section from Chapter 8 of The Odyssey. Now, I’m not too familiar with the Odyssey. In fact, I hate the Odyssey. So if anyone wants to jump in here and add something more intelligent, I’m all for it. The Odyssey is the tale of Odysseus, who has been trying for ten long years to return to his wife and son after the Trojan war. Odysseus is basically listening to a bard remind him of all his Trojan War trauma, and begins to weep, at which time time people start questioning what’s up with this guy:

Say what thy birth, and what the name you bore,

Imposed by parents in the natal hour?

(For from the natal hour distinctive names,

One common right, the great and lowly claims:)

Say from what city, from what regions toss'd,

And what inhabitants those regions boast?

So shalt thou instant reach the realm assign'd.

In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind;

No helm secures their course, no pilot guides;

Like man intelligent, they plough the tides,

Conscious of every coast and every bay,

That lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray;

Though clouds and darkness veil the encumber'd sky,

Fearless through darkness and through clouds they fly;

Though tempests rage, though rolls the swelling main,

The seas may roll, the tempests may rage in vain,

E'en the stern god that o'er the waves presides,

Safe as they pass, and safe repass the tides,

With fury burns; while careless they convey

Promiscuous every guest to every bay,

These ears have heard my royal sire disclouse

A dreadful story, big with future woes;

How Neptune raged, and how, by his command,

Firm rooted in a surge a ship would stand

A monument of wrath; how mound on mound

Should bury these proud towers beneath the ground.

But this the gods may frustrate or fulfill,

As suits the purpose of the Eternal Will.

But say through what waste regions hast thou stray'd

What customs noted, and what coasts survey'd;

Possess'd by wild barbarians fierce in arms,

Or men whose bosom tender pity warms?

Say why the fate o Troy awaked thy cares,

Why heaved thy bosom, and why flowed thy tears?

Reading this made me feel just how tired V must be. All this fighting, all this war, and for what? Much like Odysseus, V has been through hell and back (literally, depending on how you see it). And it never seems to end. V has been fighting for so long, yet there’s always something more; the tests the doctor gives her are endless, and they’re always being asked to do more, over and over again, with no results or end in sight. Odysseus is teetering on despair; nothing he does seems to do will ever be enough, just like V. The world will just take and take and take. It’s exactly what V’s poem asserts in Mikoshi; the world cannot be fixed, and resistance is futile. You can’t change how corporations rule the world, and as a protestor states on the TV in the hospital room, the rich have no boundaries or morals, and we are powerless to stop them from taking whatever they want. They can take not only our souls, but our bodies, devour them in order to prolong their own lives. Johnny would, of course, disagree. Even a slap in the face to The Man is better than submitting to a corpo-leash, even if that is the easier path. And in fact, he may be right, since it seems taking Hanako’s offer is the conformist path, and the only one that leads to Saburo coming back.

But Johnny isn’t there anymore to walk the rebel path at their side. No more guardian angel to whisper when they it most to never stop fighting.

There’s a lot more we could go into here with the Odyssey; comparing Arasaka to the story of Polyphemus and the cave, talking about themes of passion vs. commitment, yadayadayada. I hate the Odyssey so that can be someone else’s problem tbh.

The final piece is what the doctor asks V to read as one of their tests. Now, on surface-level, this is foreshadowing if V will choose to stay in their body, or be turned into an engram. It’s laughing at them, really, both pitying and mocking the fact that they believe they have a choice, since either way they’re once again at the mercy of the rich and powerful:

“And it was a sight to behold, he said, how a soul would choose its life; sometimes pitiable, sometimes laughable at times wonderful and strange. For in most cases, the souls made their choice according to the habits of a former life.”

I couldn’t find where this was from, or if it was a quote from anything. But googling it does bring up Plato’s Allegory of The Cave, which I thinks tracks pretty well. I found a quote from this chapter of Plato’s The Republic, which is strikingly similar in meaning. For the sake of my sanity, lets assume that this quote is referencing this one from Plato:

“And he will count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from above out of the light into the cave.”

If you’re unfamiliar with the allegory of the cave, it’s a philosophical discussion from Plato’s The Republic. It’s about how human perception is limited, and so true knowledge comes from the self via philosophical reasoning. Much like humans imprisoned in a cave with only shadows as their entire world, we cannot imagine the true world outside the cave until we leave to see it for ourselves.  Those who are freed from this limited reasoning have a duty to go back and free others, subjecting them to the full experience of awakening; both the pain and the triumph it entails. V starts out with a limited perception of things; a surface-level world, never stopping to see the bigger picture, until Johnny comes along and encourages them to question the status quo. In all other endings, V accepts this enlightenment. They challenge Arasaka, and try to follow Johnny’s legacy and Stick It To the Man. Yet if they accept Hanako’s offer in an attempt to return to “the habits of a former life,” they are rejecting this new understanding, refusing to leave the cave and live in ignorant bliss. This, I believe, is where Johnny’s true feeling of betrayal comes from: not because he’s being shredded, and not because he thinks V doesn’t know any better. V learned and changed just as much as he did, and this growth was something they were able to gift to one another. Johnny is proud of his change, proud to be someone trusted by V, proud at a second chance not to fuck things up. When V gives him control to go with Rogue to Arasaka, he’s ecstatic to prove himself worthy of that trust, to prove that he’s changed. Yet V, the person who aided in that change, is now actively ignoring and rejecting their own growth, and thus is betraying themselves. By not using their enlightenment to actively oppose the status quo and rebel, they are choosing the side of the oppressor by default.

Some of her last words if you choose not to sign the contract are to Goro, “You have no idea how good it feels to be free.” But the truth is, V is not free, and now they will never be free. By walking the path they have, they are choosing willful ignorance, stubbornly clinging to the darkness of the cave because it is easier to convince oneself that they are not a prisoner at all than it is to leave the comfort of one’s chains. Either way, they are caged, even if the bars the rich and powerful build around her are clear instead of solid. Her so-called freedom (and knowledge) is pure illusion — shadows depicted on a cave wall.

[popculturebuffet]

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck Part 6: Terror of the Transvaal!  “But You...  You Just Made Me Mean.”

Hello you happy people. And welcome back to my look at The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck! And with this one i’ve reached the halfway point of this epic and couldn’t be prouder and have no plans to slow down. In fact while June and July will have one chapter each as is my usual for storylines I do on my own time, August and September will have DOUBLE the chapters to help me reach the finsih line. This dosen’t mean i’m done mind, i’ll probably get into the side chapters next year, possibly sooner. But my main goal when setting out to do this was to cover the main story, one of my favorite comics of all time and easily the best scrooge comic ever. But the point is it’s been a helluva ride so far and i’m not even to the second half yet. 

This chapter is also one of my favorites along with “The Last of Clan McDuck”, “THe Raider of the Copper HIll” and “The Invader of Fort Duckburg”. It’s a compelling and tragic turning point in our heroes life and has THE most badass moment in Scrooge’s history, only rivaled by another moment in this very series, which if you’ve read it you know EXACTLY what i’m talking about for both. This is also a lucky one for me as I scheduled this a while back before me and Kev had settled on doing the season 2 arcs, so I ended up scheduling this one the same week as my coverage of Glomgold’s other origin story in “The Ballad of Duke Baloney!”, a story that take some small cues from this one. So if all of that has peaked your interest, please join me under the cut as Scrooge becomes “The Terror of the Transvaal!”

As for why Rosa set the chapter here there’s two simple reasons: it was one of two gold rushes mentioned in Barks work, meaning Scrooge could get in some more experience before making his fourtune in the Klondike, and Rosa understandably couldn’t resist having Scrooge and his greatest rival meet in their youth. He WAS careful to not have Scrooge learn Flinty’s name, as Scrooge dosen’t recognize him in Flintheart’s first apperance in “The Second Richest Duck”.. but Rosa noticed Flinty seemed familiar with SCROOGE, and simply ran with it, still having his first encounter with the bastard deeply effect Scrooge but leaving Scrooge unaware that the thief and betrayer he met in the Transavaal was the same heartless Scoundrel he’s fated to keep fighting till one or both of them keels over. 

So starting the chapter proper Scrooge has come to the Transvaal to prospect for gold, following his hunch from last chapter, trying to make his way to the rand, a large natural area in south Africa. The Transvaal itself was a large expanse that was cut up in the 90′s after the fall of apartheid. 

Scrooge passes a massive Diamond Mine, large with tons of miners on small claims, but wisely passes it up: there’s too many people, too much fuss and likely too much risk of getting stolen or finding nothing.

And to prove that point we meet Flinty who is trying to steal a guy’s diamonds for the second time today. Now the other miners reaction IS FAIR: they send him up in a bucket thing their using to transport the diamonds as a thief and announce him as such and the people on the surface’s reaction makes it very clear this isn’t new behavior. Him being punished is fine... their punishment though....

Seriously, theft is not worth doing a murder.. and yes he COULD escape and their trying to frame it like that’s not what htier doing.. but their sending someone with clearly low self preservation skills into the desert, with no suplies, tightlyt ied to an angry and clearly wild animal. While Flinty DOES deserve jail for his shit, he doesn’t deserve to DIE for attempted theft. He didn’t ruin anyone’s lives or actually succeed and he’s clearly harmless if eveyrone in the mine knows he’s a criminal. You can’t just murder all your problems away... I mean the blood alone is just not worth the clean up. 

Naturally Scrooge crosses paths with Glomgold and assumes he’s simply gotten himself trapped somehow and being an openly kind soul at this point in his life, gladly helps the guy free. Scrooge mentions he’s headed to Johannesburg and GLomgold offers to come along and do all the work as his guide. Scrooge being Scrooge refuses the “do all the work part” but gladly accepts a guide and a new friend and introduces himself as from Scotland. And as a result we get... something resembling a joke...

Look I’m not against a good pun... but that was not a good pun. It wasn’t even a passable pun. It also feels like a bit of a stretch given Scrooge is well traveled by now. you’d THINK he’d get that he was probably talking about something local and not insulting himself. 

So Scrooge talks about all he’s learned with Flintheart bored and kind of a dick.. and offering a lesson of his own despite being the same age as Scrooge.. specifically he takes first watch and gives a smug speech. 

Scrooge wonders around the wilderness and finds a lion.. then an elephant and soon has the entire savannah after him as he bemoans the betrayal, having never felt like this. We’ll get more into the why in a bit. The point is he’s backed against a wall..but as we all know a cornered animal, human , duck , humanoid duck no matter the species is often at it’s most dangerous. 

Especially if that animal is a McDuck. So here we get that badassery I mentioned: faced with an angry horde of some of the most dangerous and awe inspiring critters in Africa Scrooge uses EVERYTHING he’s learned roping cattle and what not to best them. He uses tricks from besting Long Horns to get the Elephants tangled up in a tree, then uses a log to beat a Rhino, before lassoing himself a motherfucking giraffe:

And if THAT weren’t already cool as all hell he tops himself: Since he dosen’t consider a Zebra a proper mount.. he decides to go for something bigger. 

So to recap just so it all sinks in for you: Scrooge, abandoned with no suplies, defeats two elephants and a rhino, rides a Giraffe, then TAMES a fucking lion with nothing more than an improvised lasso and PURE RAGE. Then RIDES that majestic creature across the planes like a GODDAMN HORSE, before riding iti into town casual as all hell. I MEANT IT and he’s STILL not done. I mean it doesn’t’t top riding a motherfucking lion, what could, but what he does for an encore is still utterly badass and is a nice coda to riding a motherfucking lion. 

So at the local abr Glomgold lies about everything and makes himself the hero of the story, Yes Flintheart Big Dick Glomgold. Purest soul there ever was.  This lasts all of a minute as while Flinty brushes off the fact a cowboy is looking for him, he doesn’t even know what that is... he’s soon rightfully shitting himself when Scrooge comes for his vengeance. 

The art here is as always impeccable. The shading alone. But seriously I’m terrified and I know he can’t harm me... in theory. In practice if ANYONE could reach out of the page and throttle me, it’d be the guy who rode a motherfucking lion. And no i’m never letting that go. Fucker rode a lion. That’s the kind of thing you never forget about a character for damn good reason. We also get one of my favorite lines in the story, and it has tons of greats.. but this is an easy contender for my favorite:

It’s a chilling line and panel, with it made clear Scrooge’s cynsim, his biggest weakness and often what makes him the most unlikable came from this.. the moment where a villain with no scruples, no care and no code or morals of any kind utterly betrayed him and tried to leave him for dead that took any scrap of hope in mankind he had and destroyed it. From now on he likes nobody and nobody likes him. Other mentors helped Scrooge grow as a person, taught him skills and taught him to survive, to enjoy the road getting to fortune as much as the fortune himself, and to make his way square. Flinty. just made him mean. 

But Scrooge isn’t going to kill him.. for one thing he doesn’t’t like shooting people or animals. For another.. he has something far more satisfying in mind: Old West Justice, Tar and Feathearing style, covering the guy and humiliating him by making him do a bullet dance Marty McFly style. 

Flinty TRIES to simply escape and steal Scrooge’s shotgun.. but it fails as he runs into the lion and Scrooge takes the beaten flinty over to the jail to press charges. Flinty is jailed.. and makes his own vow. 

So with that Scrooge has made a foe for life, and this is another thing the 2017 Cartoon took.. it’s just where as this  Flinty was merely angry at his rightful compuance and humilation, the cartoon one was a small child who swore vengance for an honest mistake. But either way you slice it he won’t make Scrooge’s life any easier. 

So with that we get our epilogue: Scrooge never made his forutune her, naturally, as the ore was too low quality for him to process alone so only the already rich could afford to set up shop here. Scrooge packs it in determined to still make his fortune and we get an awesome closing panel. 

Final Thoughts: As you could probably tell, I fucking love this one. It’s utterly amazing. Barks himself has said he felt the best chapters took place over a short time span and it shows: by having to cover less time, only having a time passing bit at the very end, it allows this vital story to take place over less than a day and allows it to move at a hell of a pace. It’s got action, great character work as we see Scrooge’s last bit of trust in his fellow man shatter, and THE best climax of the series. And the others have some whoppers. This one is just so damn awesome, taking most of the issue but using EVERY page of it to tell one epic finale, from Scrooge’s easy mastery of the beasts, to his taming a motherfucking lion, to Flinty’s UTTERLY satstifying humilation conga...this is just a masterpiece and a huge reminder why I love this comic

Next Time: Scrooge sadly dosen’t keep the lion but does head to Australia where he faces what he is in the dark, meets a new mentor, and gets pointed to his destiny. See you next month for that. 

If you liked this review share it, and if you’d like to help me make more join my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. WIth only 10 days left till the new pay period nows the time to jump in so you can pick a short for my Donald Duck birthday specail next month or help me reach a stretch goal so I can get it on the board. Time’s a wastin. And if you can’t, tha’ts fine, thanks for reading. 

[fragileizywriting]

secrets

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

I want to see you. I want your talkative companionship for just a little while longer, if that’s alright with you.

He is helpless to her wishes. After all, the demonic seal that is tattooed onto his chest and onto her ear lobes are exactly for that— whatever his Lady and Princess wants, so long as it is in reason, he’ll try to provide it to her. Her words aren’t chains or shackles— they are quiet and reasonable guides. She speaks the words out loud, wanting, wishing to be heard and understood, and Chat listens— listens to Marinette, his mother’s Ladybug, and he answers. It’s not an even exchange— not yet, anyway. He will do her bidding so long as she is willing to give in return.

At first, it had meant nothing to him— he’s been privy to working for humans before, and had never felt an inkling of affection or sympathy. Making a deal with a demon just means that their soul will be taken and corrupted whenever their wishes are done and completed, and he’s never felt bad about making deals with adults who crave power and indulgence. Their souls are filled with tar whenever he consumes and eats them, but it settles the hunger in his stomach. He’s never thought of anything less.

Until now, of course.

Marinette. Marinette. How could he ever take her soul away? How can he sit here, knowing that the hummingbird beating of her soul one day is going to end up inside of him instead of where it belongs? How could he live with himself, knowing that he’d ruined her this way? Even though Marinette made the deal with him willingly, there— there must be a way to get rid of the tattoos on their skin.

He can’t do this to her.

He has to keep looking.

He’ll search everywhere for an answer. Every textbook, every witch. Every spare piece of gossip from Alya. There must be a way to break and erase the tattoos that burn on their skin. He’ll do her bidding regardless— he’ll help her with her wishes to cast the miraculous cure— but he can’t do it knowing that her soul is on the line.

The world is so big, and yet, it always surprises him to think that he’s ended up in Ladybug’s life. The girl who worships and works for his mother from first breath to last, trying to make a world a better place— he can’t take away Ladybug’s soul, can he? He’s in a predicament in that sense, too. If his mom were to find out that he’d been planning on eating a Ladybug’s soul, he’s certain to get a scolding of a lifetime for it. But he doesn’t know what to do— it’s almost as if they were put together for a reason.

And the reason, he suspects, might be because of his father— with that shit-eating grin he’d had on his face the moment that portal had opened up in the throne room just as Chat Noir had walked in, claiming that it was time for Chat Noir to experience the new.

He’s yet to get an answer from that god if this is what he meant.

Maybe Tikki already knows. It’s possible she does— after all, Marinette does her bidding quite a lot. Surely his mom has already felt the whispers of his magic tainting everything that Marinette does as well, right? And knowing her, she’s probably adamant about the two of them staying together.

“I used to get a lot of migraines when I was younger,” He breaks the silence in the living room.

Marinette’s eyes are distant again, even as she watches him eat her piece of honey she’d given him. It’s a silence he doesn’t know how to navigate very well— he doesn’t know what to say or do. The honeycomb tastes too brittle without her company, so he doesn’t know whether to stop eating and just wait for her, or try prodding at the silence.

It’s been a little while that he’s transformed back into his normal form, with them sitting in the living room seating area in front of the fireplace he’s poked back into life. It helps— sometimes, not always— that he’s capable of using fire magic. There’s no need for any matches of any kind when all he has to do is create flames in the palm of his hand. His magic isn’t as generalized as Marinette’s is— most of his spells he’s learned are, after all, to cause as much chaos as possible. Fire, floods, earthquakes, cataclysms— all of it is in the realm of his hands.

He doesn’t know how to mend things. It’s never been his strong suit.

She startles, realizing that he’s trying to have a conversation with her. Trying to complete her wish in the best way he knows how. “You did?”

He blinks slowly, trying to figure out how to approach the topic, so he tries for a smile. “Don’t tell anyone that the great Chat Noir is susceptible to headaches, the last thing we need is another myth circulating around the world that Plagg’s prodigy is nothing more than a demon that is sensitive to light. Let’s keep it a secret between us.”

“Of course,” She nods, not exactly understanding that he’s being sarcastic. Her hair is ink against her skin as she sits properly on the couch with him, tucking her shoulder into one of the back pillows. “How bad were the migraines? How long they did they last?”

Is Marinette trying to get more information so she can read about it? That seems most likely— he could mention that he sneezes at a certain smell and she’d disappear with the scent entirely within hours. It’s a miracle he’d convinced her to not toss out all of the scented soap the moment she’d learned that his nose is capable of picking up practically anything— Marinette cares about him too much.

Still though. He can’t force himself to lie to her— not when he’s trying to make sure that she knows that he’s always available to listen to what bothers her. “I wish I could say they weren’t too detrimental, but… the migraines got so bad that most of my memories from childhood are gone.”

It’s warmer than it was before, and even with the lack of fur he can feel that the cottage is at a reasonable temperature. She’s not shivering anymore, which is good— Marinette shivers from simply a threat of a cold draft, he’d hate to have her actually be freezing. Her brows crinkle at whatever she’s thinking, trying to place her thoughts together. “What? Y-you don’t remember your childhood? Any of it? At all?”

“No.” He taps on the plate in his lap. “I don’t remember much of those days. Practically nothing— my memories are entirely blank and dark. Huge portions of my life are missing.”

“Chat,” She gasps. “How— you—”

“It’s not that bad. Twelve-ish years of life disappeared, sure, but that’s okay. I’ve been told that I’ll live for hundreds of years, so I can’t be too upset that a couple of years disappeared.”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” The sides of her mouth tick down. “I forgot that demons live for long periods of time.”

“My parents never thought of me as less for it, and it doesn’t sound like those years are fun to remember, either. From the parts I can still remember, it was a lot of seeing my parents in the throne room looking scared and confused while I cried for my mom, begging her to hold me and comfort me.”

“Chat,” Her face pinches.

He continues with a smile, trying not to feel elated that Marinette is so easy to sympathize with him. “My mom used to say that the migraines got so bad that she would have to sit with me for days for it to go away. Trust me, Princess, I’m fine now. I haven’t had any migraines in years. Mom always called our moments together as bonding-time, although I think it was just to make me feel better.”

“Tikki said that?” There’s a bit of humor on her face, a fleeting little bit of amusement in her eyes even as she thinks about his blanked memory, the same humor from bringing up the silly argument they always have with each other.

Marinette is still convinced, even after all this time, that the Goddess really isn’t his mother— that he makes it up for humor. After all, according to Marinette, Plagg and Tikki aren’t really together, they’re gods— they don’t have children. They’re from completely different realms— why would his deity Plagg and her deity Tikki be together? Why would Tikki and Plagg have a child? And why him?

No offense, of course. But he understands what she means— he doesn’t really look like either of them. His mom talks about him as if he’s a miracle. But still— and this is integral— why would Plagg and Tikki be together? Marinette doesn’t ever understand.

But then again…

She has no idea about the loving glances his parents give to each other.

She has no idea about how every time his mother would leave hell to go take care of her own domain, his father would spend every day waiting for her to come home by carving little wooden statues by hand. Large, calloused, working hands of a god as old as time, whittling away at pieces of wood so smooth and soft that it looked like he was cutting through butter with a knife.

She has no idea how many yearning nights he’d spend at his dad’s feet, listening to Plagg talk about how much he loves his mother, and how they both miss her dearly, with his father creating little wooden dolls to keep his hands busy while he wishes for Tikki to come back to them. Each wooden doll more elaborate than the last. Each wooden doll more delicate than the last. A horse— a princess— a dragon— a demon— a rose. Sometimes his father would even carve a little doll of Tikki for himself, and smooth his thumb over the little figure whenever his missing got too much for him.

Chat Noir still has a couple of the gifted wooden dolls still in his room lining his shelves, each doll a scene from a story that Plagg would tell to keep him entertained as little Chat Noir gripped his leg in sadness. Knights and dragons and princesses and Ladybug’s that healed the sick with just her hands, and Chat Noir’s that ate the sun to give fire to the humans just to watch explosions and war dot across the Earth.

He always wished he had the skill to create like his dad. He always chalked it up to not having enough patience to shave away at bark. Besides, his hands are more suited to tearing and grabbing. He’d keep himself busy, waiting for his mother to return, by hunting the wanted whose faces were always plastered outside the castle walls, bringing the hunted into the throne room by carrying them over his shoulder or dragging them in by the leg.

He’d take a few Earth jobs, too, whenever a summoning portal was open and he was in the area and didn’t have any immediate plans. As long as he sent a letter back down through the portal notifying he was on Earth, his father didn’t mind him leaving hell.

Marinette also has no idea about the plentiful gifts that Tikki would bring back from her domain, with flowers large and plentiful in her arms to decorate their rooms. They have always been his favorite gift from hers whenever she returns. No amount of trinkets, or prizes— gold, jewelry, fruits from above ever caught his eye like the way they catch whenever she brings these to him.

Fire lilies.

For a man such as himself who’s entire myth and legend is simply just fire, and destruction— hell’s favorite golden and green child— seeing fire being associated with a flower always amazed him. Even as a young boy, when his blackened claws were much too sharp to take care and cultivate flowers like his mother, he always tried to keep himself from ruining the petals. Sometimes it got so bad that he’d beg his mother to keep the flowers with her so that they wouldn’t tear in his hands. Watch from afar. Admire them in a glass vase. Keep away from his hands.

The petals of these flowers are always so dark and red. Petals as red as his mother’s fiery hair, lively and beautiful. He always attempted to keep the fire lilies as alive as possible, knowing that the flower would break at the slightest indication of accidental injury. Every time a petal would fall off, he’d break from it.

Oh, he realizes. Marinette is his fire lily.

It makes sense. Of course it does. One of Tikki’s gifts happens to coincide with her most valued worker on Earth— the thought almost makes it difficult to breathe. Marinette is the one person in this entire world that he cares about at such a deep level.

He likes bantering with Luka— their fishing competitions are fun, even if the naga cheats.

He likes the rivalry between him and Alix, who is convinced that she can win against a legendary demon like him.

He likes talking with Alya, who has so much knowledge in her glittering brown eyes that it would take him entire lifetimes to parse through all of her silver and golden words.

He likes being with Nino, too— the one completely magic-less human who never treats him like a creature of the night and instead just his friend. He’s never had one before this.

But Marinette is the one person that he’d want to preserve, if he had to make that choice. His very own fire lily, the most beautiful and wonderful flower of all, safely kept. He wishes to keep her safe from harm. He wishes to keep her from hurting any more than what she already has.

The more and more he thinks about it, the less he realizes that he’s not paying attention to Marinette, who watches him in silence. By the time he’s out of his thoughts, Marinette’s looking at him with a knowing glint in her eye, one filled with soft humor, and it’s enough to give him hope that maybe he’s guiding the conversation into the right place, even if he doesn’t know where he’d left off. “So, Tikki would really comfort you?”

He thinks back to those earlier days. The days where he’d beg for his mother to stay— the days where he’d scream for no apparent reason at the sight of summoning portals being open, the days where he’d cry endlessly at the prospect of having to go through them. His mother never knew what to do. She’d sit there, bewildered, struggling to calm him down— he realizes, then, that he’s much in the same predicament. How would he calm down? What would get him to smile that day? Would the same tactic even work on Marinette?

“She’d sit with me. Sit with me a lot and just let me cry.” His voice is soft, nodding along to his own words. “To be fair, my mom had no idea what to do. She’d never had a child before. Every other Chat Noir that Plagg and hell had created before wasn’t exactly their own child. This was different.”

“She did well, if you turned out to be like this.” She pulls her knees up so she can hug them. She’s interested in his story. She always is. “I know I haven’t met every single demon, but you’re the nicest one I’ve met. And sweetest.”

“She’s nothing short of a perfectionist,” He winks, not letting his face stain red at the compliment no matter how hard his face wants to. “Nothing less for her. It took her a bit of time to understand my migraines. I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I remember parts of my childhood, but my parents told me that I was frequently inside a lot because of the migraines. The headaches would get so bad that I could hear light.”

“The great Chat Noir,” She murmurs, the smile small on her face, but there. “Who knew that this version of Chat Noir was prone to headaches?”

“Not all Chat Noirs are built the same, you know,” He grins. “Some of us can pull the sun out of the sky, it’s true. Hold the flame in our hands. Light the Earth on fire with it. And some Chat Noirs stay inside their dark bedroom for long periods of time, hopeful that the headache would pass.”

“Gets into fights with the local fishers, too.” She muses softly. “Technically wins because the fisher doesn’t have fire powers.”

“You got to take wins where you can get them,” He’s so happy when she finally laughs. He misses her laughter every time it’s away. “And the great Chat Noir never falters to do the impossible.”

Her laughter is light, and airy, but as sweet as the honey on his plate. “What would you do to keep yourself entertained, then, oh great Chat Noir?”

“Listen to my mom talk about my dad,” He tries not to scrunch his nose. He takes a bite from the honeycomb, trying not to think too hard about how he wouldn’t mind being that way with Marinette. Would she tell her children about him, if she were to ever have any? Why does the thought of being out of her life taste so sour on his tongue? “I’ve never heard two people more in love in my life.”

Marinette’s face brightens at his words. “They must be very lucky to have each other.”

He looks around the cottage, to all their little things they’ve collected while being together. He thinks about their hens, their meals together, the days where he’ll laze in the sun patch as she works on long and complicated spells that she doesn’t want help with. He thinks about her attempts at perfecting her fortune charms by loading his arms with so many beads that it’s almost impossible for him to move his arms. He thinks about the way she hides her face in his chest when she’s feeling afraid.

He’s lucky to have her. He hopes that she’s lucky to have him, too.

“They aren’t the only ones.”

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[otherworldly-healer]

Challenge Part 1 [Preparation for Battle, Raine & Mariela] [~2530 Words]

It was well after dark at Sunlight’s Canopy. Oil lamps scattered around the room cast an eerie orange glow across the walls. Raine had called in a favor. She sat at a table alone, staring out onto the streets of Golden while she waited for the owner of the shop to enter the room. The half elf was listless. She was feeling so many things at the moment that her emotions sort of just…shut down on her. Clouds overtook the city that night, and rain thrummed on the window as her coffee grew cold on the table in front of her. A storm again, huh? Raine was transported back to that night when the full moon rose above stone plinths, changing her life forever. She could feel a chill run up her spine.

It started on the Spirale University campus. She overheard a group of students whispering rumors about two people trapped out in The Mistwood trying to leave the city. At first she thought it was just another newcomer to the city who got lost on their way exploring. It happened often enough. It wasn’t that strange. They would learn soon enough that in walking past the edge of the barrier that there was no escape. But… the rumors didn’t stop there. 

As she was making her way across campus later that day she overheard more chatter. One of the two people was supposedly an elven woman with long silver hair, wearing a coat of green cloth. The other was a human man with light-brown hair. They had been seen traveling the solitary stretch of road between Cotes and The Mistwood, then turning into the woods together. There were too many coincidences there to make her feel comfortable. If it was them… they would never make it out alive. Her mother couldn’t fight. Her father was only one man, and while he knew useful medical skills and his way around a sword,  in the past he always had a company with him in the Knights.

After Grimm had told her that the Stars had his son, it wasn’t unthinkable that they had Raine’s parents as well. Just like when she had to protect a younger version of herself and Genis, it was almost as if the Stars had set that up as a practice for this main event. They were toying with her again. She had gotten too comfortable here. She had to be reminded never to let down her guard. How could she catch herself slipping like that? That’s right…no place was ever safe for very long for the Sages. Trouble followed them wherever they went. As they could always count on the dawn, they could also anticipate dusk. For Raine, she never knew what dangers lurked there, but she always knew that it was inevitable that in time some monster would rear its head.

“Heeey. Sorry it took so long. I wish I could do more for you but…this is all I’ve got to spare right now.” Mariela walked in from the back of the apothecary, lugging a box filled with potion vials and round capsules.

“No, it’s fine. I know we’ve all been weakened here. Any help is appreciated but…I don’t mean to be a bother. You can’t find them, can you? With your attachment to the ley line?” The shopkeeper frowns and sits down across from the professor.

“I’ve never met them, so I’ve never come across their spiritual energy. I could probably find you like that if you were ever in danger but…not a stranger. On a night like this, I went out into the rain and with all the magical energy I could muster I followed my friend Caroline. It took everything I had. Even if I had met these travelers everyone’s talking about, the last time I tried to find someone like that, my soul almost got taken into the ley line for good.”

“Ah…r-right. I apologize. I didn’t wish to ask too much of you.” So, because Mariela was attuned with this ley line she could also distinguish one person’s presence from another. She’d have to ask her more about this in the future. It wasn’t exactly like a mana signature, but something similar at least.

“Naw, it’s alright. I get it. When Carol was missing I…I felt so scared. I can’t fight, so all I could do was lead other people to the place she was to protect them.”

Raine sighed, taking a moment to sip at her coffee so she had time to collect herself and think. Honestly... Raine could relate to what she was saying.

“Well. Your skills are impressive, and more than useful to others. Thank you again for meeting me here tonight. So, tell me a little more about these.”

The alchemist picks a potion vial out of the box, shaking it gently so that the foggy white particulate swirled in the liquid. Raine recognized this one. It was some sort of Monster Warding potion. Mariela had mentioned before that this kept monsters away, but she had yet to explain exactly how it worked. She asked now for some clarification.

“Alright, so you remember this one. It’s made from the same herbs that grow around the gutters on the roof. I can’t guarantee that they’ll work on every monster. After a certain level monsters become too strong to be affected by them. In my world, monsters all had a ranking system. D-ranked monsters were usually the weakest of them and they were found on the first levels of the Labyrinth. C ranks were stronger than those, then B, then A, and the strongest of all monsters would be classified as S rank. The same went for people. Anywho, the monster warding potions usually work for monsters up to B rank, but it depends. Dog monsters like wolves are especially sensitive to it. The smell it gives off will make them turn and run. If they’re too high of a level, you can at least throw it at a certain spot to guide them into groups so they’re easier to hit. That’s what we did with the orc raids every year.”

“So these potions won’t normally hurt a monster?”

“Nah. Not usually. It makes them really uncomfortable and might give some minor burns, but usually it’s just a deterrent.”

“Good to know. So then…these bombs.”

“Oh yup yup. This stays between you and me though. My shop has a strict policy that I don’t like selling anything that could be used to hurt other people. I trust you, but in the wrong hands…”

“I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“Pheeeew. Thought so. I don’t sell poisons either for the same reason, even if I can make them. It’s just not moral to do it. So, you know about these flash bombs.” The shopkeep pulls out a bright yellow sphere. “They emit a bright light. Some monsters might be scared of light so it’s worth a try, but you’re gonna want to warn anyone else that you’re about to use one so you don’t get disoriented.”

“Then…the red ones.”

“Right-o. Those are actually bombs that cause explosions. Not big ones, when we were fighting the Labyrinth even kids used those, but they’ll definitely cause an injury. Be reeeeally careful with those. I’d suggest throwing them at the feet of a monster to demobilize them. Have you ever handled explosives before?”

“My light magic acts in a similar way and as for explosives…well. I know the dangers of them. I have never had handheld ones, but I have used them before.” At the professor’s answer, the alchemist had a concerned look on her face. Raine quickly followed up with, “Don’t worry Mariela. I’m not reckless. I like to make tactical plans before walking into danger if I can help it.”

Mariela nods. “These ones are made from incendiary plants. Less chance for collateral damage because there’s no shrapnel. And here.” The girl removes a leather belt with a number of pouches around it from around her waist, handing it over to Raine. “Carry it all with this. I really hope you find what you’re looking for out there. Be safe.”

“Thanks Mariela. I will certainly try to be.”

The alchemist put the lid back on the box and handed them over to the half elf. Raine scowled as she drew closer to the doorway, looking out to see that the rain had only started pelting the pavement with even more fury. The alchemist hopped up from her seat and peered out into the city streets herself. They both lived in this ward. She couldn’t just let her customer walk back home without at least a hood on.

“Wait up Raine! Let me just clean up and I’ll walk you right on home. I’m positive I’ve got a big umbrella here somewhere. We’re going the same direction anyway.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

Mariela would throw the remains of the professor’s coffee in the sink and toss the container in the garbage. It was unlike Raine to clean up, but looking at her now, she was definitely out of it. She just stood under the awning in front of the shop and kept on staring out into the night, lost in her thoughts. Mariela looked around and finally found her umbrella, tucked into a corner in the living room. Then she locked up the door into the house and walked out the front door of the shop to lock that one as well. Then she began opening up the umbrella for both her and the half elf. It was a quiet walk home. Only the sounds of cars sloshing through puddles and their shoes smacking the pavement would be heard between them. It was scary, almost, to see a time when the professor was not excitedly chattering about her newest discovery.

After walking Raine to her doorstep, Mariela pulled a healing potion out of her pocket and handed it to the professor. She had already paid for the box in her hands, but being a healer herself she had figured that she could handle any injuries herself. Mariela told her that this one was on the house, and that you could never be too safe. The professor nodded and took the potion from her, unable to speak for a moment. She bowed her head slightly and thanked the girl again for her generosity, placing the potion in her own pocket. Mariela wished her luck and began walking down the street to her own building. Raine unlocked the door behind her and walked across the threshold, making her way upstairs to get to her apartment.

The room was quiet except for the usual sounds of the city that got filtered to the back of her mind. After taking off her shoes and hanging up her coat, Raine immediately headed for her room. She knew that she couldn’t do this alone. She wished she was more certain whether or not she was actually chasing phantoms but…she had made up her mind. She needed to know. If it was her parents after all, her father was there. That meant her parents were taken from a time before Kloitz had passed. That meant in turn that her mother had yet to lose her faculties. She could actually speak to them and get the answers that she desperately wanted to hear after so many years.

Above all…they didn’t regret having her, did they? Even though she was a half-elf, born to be scorned and despised. She was the reason they were on the run for so long. If the Imperial Research Academy hadn’t heard of her existence they would not have had to give up everything. It was her fault, wasn’t it? Surely, Virginia and Kloitz would have always been ostracized for finding love with one another, but if the siblings were never born perhaps they could have lived in Heimdall forever. Her father would still be alive if they were never chased out. 

No. She would no longer think like that. If her Journey taught her anything, it was that she had the right to live regardless of her race. She would make her own place in the world...and here in Spirale...she didn’t even have to steal that place by pretending she was something she was not. People looked up to her. They accepted her, and cared for her, as hard as it was to believe most of the time. Her life was important.

What would happen, exactly, if those two people in the woods were her parents after all?  After so many years of feeling abandoned and rejected, did she want an apology from them? Did she just want to be left alone so that she might move on—scars buried deep but never quite healed? Did...any of it even matter anymore? She no longer had to hide who she was. For the first time in so long she could see happier days ahead. Logically she knew it was time to stop living in the past. Whatever she chose, it seems that she would have to make the decision quickly upon seeing them.

…If it really was them.

She wasn’t strong. Especially here in Spirale. She was a healer and a mage. Then again Virginia’s words ran circles in her mind. “Please forgive your powerless mother”. Even if Raine had some magical ability she felt she was nearly powerless, just like her mother had felt. But wait…that wasn’t entirely true was it? Raine had been through hell and back. Even when it felt like there was no hope, and life had kicked her down she changed her plans and found a way to survive on her own. Even if her magic wasn’t powerful, she was strong. She was tenacious. She would never give up fighting to find safety and belonging for her family. Above all she was crafty. She had to believe if there were monsters out in those woods, she would do as she always did and claw her way out of danger by the skin of her teeth.

Raine lay on her bed and took out her phone, staring at the list of contacts. In the past Raine had been too stubborn to ask for help. She believed that she had to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders because the only person she could rely on was herself. But now…things were different weren’t they? People she held dear knew who she was. They knew of her struggles to find a place where she belonged, and they began to welcome her with open arms. So…would it not cause undue worry to march into the woods by herself, just like when she went off on her own to find the Otherworldly Gate? Genis would be so upset if she did. Raine needed to ask for help, just this once. So… she opened her messages, hoping it was not too late to be bothering others, and called in a few favors to her friends and loved ones.

[divinelydeanna]

The Shadow

Time and time again, we may find ourselves turning down a dark road of emptiness, and self sabatoge.

 All experience /shadow work, suffering, addictions, is to make the unconscious conscious, and guide us to dive deep into new somatic territory, open new neurological pathways, to create new circuitry of self love and to experience deep intimacy.. 
 
Awareness and proper framing of what's going on is crucial.
The 'Psychic Winds of Change' blow through our Minds can be crazy fast and volatile , and at any moment may not be showing any signs of slowing down just yet. 

Exploring Unchartered territory , spiritual healing modalities, can open new neurological pathways , create new circuitry of self love and to experience deep intimacy if we are willing to do the work. Otherwise it is spiritual bypassing. 


We all have demons inside us. Every day, we fight against them – sometimes we lose, sometimes we win.

These demons haunting us can be seen either in small glimpses or in full chaos. And because of our guilt and shame, we tend to ignore and bury them.

We think that they should stay hidden because they cannot and should not exist in our conscious self. The society tells us to focus on the good things like love and light, but never the darkness or shadow.

However, when we focus only on the “light”, it doesn’t reach to the depths of our being. It just feels like superficially hanging on a warm and fuzzy thing.

“Positive thinking is simply the philosophy of hypocrisy – to give it the right name. When you are feeling like crying, it teaches you to sing. You can manage if you try, but those repressed tears will come out at some point, in some situation. There is a limitation to repression. And the song that you were singing was absolutely meaningless; you were not feeling it, it was not born out of your heart.” – Osho

Inside every one of us are darker problems that exist. In order to touch the very depths of our being, we must be ready to explore our buried self through shadow work.

Here are the basic things you need to know about shadow work:

Beneath the social mask we wear every day, we have a hidden shadow side: an impulsive, wounded, sad, or isolated part that we generally try to ignore. The Shadow can be a source of emotional richness and vitality, and acknowledging it can be a pathway to healing and an authentic life. – Steve Wolf

First, we must define what is a “shadow”.

In the field of psychology, a shadow is a term used to refer to the parts within us that we may try to hide or deny. The name was originally coined and explored by Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, Carl Jung.

It comprises of the aspects of our personality that we tend to deem shameful, unacceptable, ugly. It can be envy, jealousy, rage, lust, desire for power or the wounds incurred in childhood – all of those we keep hidden. Jung believes that when the human Shadow is shunned, it tends to sabotage our lives. Repressing or suppressing one’s shadow can result in addictions, low self-esteem, mental illness, chronic illnesses, and various neuroses.

“Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.”– Carl Jung

You can learn to identify and work with your shadow self so that you can reach your goals and live your best life.

For many people, denying their inner self is the path they usually choose, but as you’ll see here, we are big fans of accepting who you really are and working with that, while choosing strategic thoughts and emotions in order to continue to move forward. Transformation, which so many of us are looking for, does not come from a place of denial. It comes from a place of acceptance. While you might not think it is possible to find your way to the “dark side” and come out a better person, we are here to tell you, it is.

“Man needs difficulties; they are necessary for health.” – Carl Jung

Here are 8 ways to practice shadow work:

1. Believe you are worthy and that things will get better

The first step in overcoming your shadow self and taking back your life is to acknowledge that you are worthy of good things.

When we are feeling low it is easy to continue to feel that way. Humans have an uncanny ability to feel sorry for themselves, and sometimes that is all we want to do and it serves its purpose.

But sometimes, that self-pity takes hold of us and makes it very difficult for us to get out of the rut and get back to our normal routines, or even better, our best self.

The key is learning to love yourself.

However, in this day and age practicing self love is hard.

Why?

Because society conditions us to find ourselves through our relationships with others. That the true path to happiness and fulfillment is to find love with someone else

I recently came to understand that this is an extremely unhelpful standard.

People living regular lives

What I discovered is that the relationship I have with myself is mirrored in my relationship with others. Therefore, it was very important for me to develop a better relationship with myself.

“If you do not respect your whole, you cannot expect to be respected as well. Don’t let your partner love a lie, an expectation. Trust yourself. Bet on yourself. If you do this, you will be opening yourself to be really loved. It’s the only way to find real, solid love in your life.”

2. Pay attention to the emotions you feel

No emotions are bad.

Our negative emotions are portals into the shadow. They help us determine our wounds and fears.

When you feel an emotion, take a minute to examine it. Ask yourself the following questions:

What am I feeling?

Why am I feeling this?

Wait for answers.

Don’t be frustrated if the answers do not come right away. Sometimes, the answers need time to be found and you’ll know it.

Never force answers and jump into conclusion because they might be the wrong ones. Shadow work is considered soul work and it happens on its own timeline. Just be patient and know that in time, the answers will come.

This steps simply means to accept what comes up for you, when it comes up, and acknowledge that you are an emotional being that may, from time to time, find it difficult to manage your emotions.

If you are working to tame your shadow self, then you’ll be paying attention to these moments so that you can stay with them, rather than try to run from them.

So many people simply want to feel better in the moments where we feel the greatest amount of discomfort, but if we can stay with our emotions, name them and be grateful for them, we can overcome them and move on to better things.

The better life is not created by not experiencing those emotions, but by experiencing all of them with gratitude.

RELATED: I was deeply unhappy…then I discovered this one Buddhist teaching

3. Identify the shadow

Our shadows are located in our subconscious. We buried them there that’s why it’s tricky to identify it.

n order to perform shadow work, we need to identify the shadow. The first step is to become aware of the recurrent feelings that you always feel. Identifying these patterns will help highlight the shadow.

Some common shadow beliefs are:

I am not good enough.

I am unloveable.

I am flawed.

My feelings are not valid.

I must take care of everyone around me.

Why can’t I just be normal just like others?

4. Investigate your feelings objectively and with compassion

t’s hard to do shadow work objectively and with compassion. It’s easier to investigate and blame other people why you end up that way.

On the other hand, understanding why the people who hurt you acted in a particular way is hard to accept. But in order to heal ourselves, we must forgive those who hurt us in order to move on.

Try to navigate that they did the best they could do at that time or were simply acting from their own wounds.

It’s also easy to feel bad about yourself for having these negative feelings. But there’s no reason to feel bad. We all experience negative emotions. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t.

It’s important to accept our negative emotions and be okay with them.

According to philosopher Alan Watts, Carl Jung was the kind of man who could feel something negative and not be ashamed about it:

“[Jung] was the sort of man who could feel anxious and afraid and guilty without being ashamed of feeling this way. In other words, he understood that an integrated person is not a person who has simply eliminated the sense of guilt or the sense of anxiety from his life – who is fearless and wooden and kind of sage of stone. He is a person who feels all these things, but has no recriminations against himself for feeling them.” – Alan Watts

5. Focusing on your breathing

How much attention do you pay to the way you breathe?

If you’re like most people, then probably not a lot. We usually just let our body do the job and completely forget about it.

I think this is one of our biggest mistakes.

Because when you breathe, you produce energy for your body and psyche. This has a direct connection to your sleep, digestion, heart, muscles, nervous system, brain and mood.

But the quality of your breathing doesn’t depend only on the quality of the air — it depends much more on how you breathe.

That’s why many spiritual traditions pay so much attention to breath. And focusing on your breathing is a key technique they use to help people explore, and ultimately conquer, their shadow self.

6. Explore the shadow

Psychologists use art therapy as a way to help patients explore their inner selves. It is because art is a great way to allow your Shadow to manifest itself. Here are some ways to express the shadow:

Journaling

When you write, it allows you to feel emotions and empty your head of the thoughts rumbling around. It’s like magic – even when you write thoughts that have no sense. Just write whatever comes to mind because you can’t do it wrong.

Write a letter

Write a letter to yourself or to those who hurt you. You don’t have to actually send the letter, just let all your feelings out.

Tell the person in mind what you feel and why you feel it. Writing a letter will validate yourself and your emotions. You can burn the letter after you write it as a symbolic release.

Meditate

In meditation, we gain insights about why we feel certain ways. It helps us understand and objectively delve deeper about our emotions, then allow ourselves to heal.

One example is forgiveness meditation. You can picture a person who hurt you in your mind and say, “May you be happy, may you be at peace, may you be free of suffering.”

Recommended reading: A spiritual master explains why you can’t meditate properly (and what to do instead)

Feel

You will never heal unless you allow yourself to face the emotion you’re scared of. So explore them, write about them and make art out of them.

To experience yourself as a whole, loved, and lovable, you need to own up to your emotions.

Dreams

Our thoughts and deepest emotions can come out in dreams, according to Jung. When you experience a dream, write down what occurred immediately so you don’t forget.

By understanding your dreams, you might understand more about yourself.

“The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.” – Carl Jung

However, Jung says that it’s important to understand that one dream by itself might not mean much, but patterns from multiple dreams might:

“An obscure dream, taken by itself, can rarely be interpreted with any certainty, so that I attach little importance to the interpretation of single dreams. With a series of dreams we can have more confidence in our interpretations, for the later dreams correct the mistakes we have made in handling those that went before. We are also better able, in a dream series, to recognize the important contents and basic themes.” – Carl Jung

Remember that the shadow thrives in secret but they are part of who you are. Bring the hidden parts of yourself to light and bathe them in self-love and acceptance.

Sometimes, the process hurts but it will make you a better person. Keep in mind: When it comes down to getting what you want, you have to not only confront your inner darkness but embrace it.

Rather than try to turn it off when you feel the shadow self-rearing its ugly head, allow yourself to feel it and be curious about it.

In some cases, you might find that it serves you, especially when you are trying to protect yourself from things that might otherwise threaten your higher self.

When you tap into your shadow self properly, it can be a powerful alter ego that can help you manage trying situations.

It’s when you let it rule your life, or pretend you don’t have a shadow self that problems persist.

7. Nurture your inner child

Our childhood traumas can be caused by the way we were parented or other people who hurt us. It can result in deep wounds that can create behavioral and emotional patterns that create our personality.

Most of the time, our childhood wounds are the most painful. They haunt us and tell us we’re not worthy of love, or that our feelings are wrong, or that we have to take care of everything because nobody was around to take care of us.

Nurturing your inner child involves traveling back in time to when you were hurt and give yourself love. You can do this by:

Go back to the time in your life when you felt most vulnerable.

It can be a scene where you got hurt or a time in your life when you felt vulnerable. Hold that image of yourself in your mind. Stay aware, taking in any messages that arise during that time.

Give the younger you compassion

While reliving the moment, give love to your younger self. Tell yourself, “I love you and I’m here for you. It will be okay, it’s not your fault and you did nothing to deserve this.” You can also give a hug to your younger self.

One thing is for sure when doing shadow work, it is uncomfortable, to say the least. Who would enjoy owning up to their flaws, weaknesses, selfishness, hate, and all the negative emotions they feel? Nobody.

But while focusing on our positive side is enjoyable and boosts our confidence, shadow work can help us grow and develop into a better version of ourselves.

Jung writes in the book Psychology and Alchemy, “There is no light without shadow and no psychic wholeness without imperfection.”

With shadow work, we become whole to live a more authentic and fulfilling life.

Recommended reading:

7 steps to heal your inner child.

Recommended Therepy : inner child Hypnotherapy, Family Constillations, Sound Healing, Earth magnetism Nature, Fasting, Mirroring, EFT, Resurecction Therepy, Heart Coherence Frequency, Deep tissue manipulation, infrared saunas, fasting, 1stSun. Kundalini Meditation , Mantras, ecstatic dance, Qi gong, vibrational machines, resurrection therepy.

Written by:DeannaCook and is free under the Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 License
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/3.0/) you may freely copy, distribute, blog, or post it anywhere, so long as the work is attributed to "deannalcook", and the text is unaltered.

[violethowler]

Death and Separation: Emerging Trends in Pop Culture Franchises

Warning: The following essay contains ending and character death  spoilers for Voltron: Legendary Defender,  How To Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World, Game of Thrones, and everything released under the Disney umbrella since January 2017. That includes Marvel, Star Wars, and vanilla Disney movies, both animated and live action. 

I’ve noticed a pattern in the last couple of years of media consumption. 

Since 2017, there has been a string of major releases by major companies or networks that featured story decisions that proved controversial with audiences. Now, such things on their own aren’t really a big deal because for the most part there’s always going to be some fans who aren’t satisfied with how a story turned out, regardless of their reasons. 

But what I’m noticing is that there is a pattern to which elements fans are criticizing and why. 

As I became aware of this trend I started looking back at media released in the last few years and noticing that many of these stories were featuring the same plot elements, whether they worked for the story or not: 

One common point I noticed is how many of these franchises have taken morally complicated characters that were popular with audiences, and permanently killed them off in ways which a lot of people have found narratively unsatisfying: 

In Star Wars: Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker, Ben Solo manages to achieve his redemption and turn back to the light after all prior supplementary material showed how Snoke preyed on his feelings of abandonment to groom him into joining the dark side. After being redeemed, his contribution to the story’s climax is being thrown into a pit, where he stays until after Palpatineis defeated, and upon climbing out finds the girl he loves dead. Ben then uses the force to heal Rey and restore her to life, only to immediately kick the bucket himself, after which point the narrative ceases to acknowledge him in any way. 

Loki and his brother Thor reconcile at the end of 2017’s Thor: Ragnarok, only for the film’s post credits scene to herald their encounter with Loki’s former “employer” Thanos. The next time audiences see Loki in the opening minutes of Avengers: Infinity War, he’s strangled to death on-screen by Thanos following a failed assassination attempt before the film’s title card has even appeared. Despite theories that he had faked his death and would return in Avengers: Endgame, the only versions of Loki to appear in the finale of the Infinity Saga are past versions from alternate timelines, with only the characters dusted during Infinity War being brought back to life. 

Gamora escapes from her abusive father figure Thanos in the first Guardians of the Galaxy movie and spends subsequent films building a life for herself outside of Thanos’ toxic influence, with the sequel focusing on her repairing her relationship with her sister Nebula. After being captured by Thanos and forced to bring him to the Soul Stone, Thanos flings her off a cliff to her death when he learns that obtaining the Soul Stone will require him to sacrifice someone he loves, and awakens in a pool of water with the stone in his hand. Despite theories she would be brought back to life in Avengers: Endgame, but like Loki, the only versions of Gamora to appear were from alternate timelines that lacked the dead version’s character development.

Black Widow’s defining character trait across the Infinity Saga has been her desire to eliminate “the red in her ledger” to atone for the things she did when the Red Room had raised her to be an assassin. In Avengers: Endgame, Black Widow sacrifices herself to obtain the Soul Stone in the past to give her close friend Clint Barton a second chance to come back from the brutal path of vengeance the death of his family had set him on, in the same way that he had given her a second chance to build a better life for herself when they first met. 

In Voltron: Legendary Defender’s third season, Prince Lotor is introduced as a morally ambiguous figure with unclear motives. When forced on the run by his tyrannical father, he forms an alliance with the Paladins of Voltron and eventually develops a romance with Princess Allura. In the sixth season, Lotor is accused of mass murder of the survivors of Allura’s destroyed planet and their alliance falls apart. Lotor insists that his intentions for peace are genuine, but his efforts to explain himself fall on deaf ears, and after a battle, is left for dead in the Quintessence Field. The second episode of the final seasons fills in the details of his abusive childhood while showing that despite what he’d suffered, he was genuine in his desire for peace. Seasons 6 through 8 are sprinkled with hints that Lotor was innocent of the crimes he was accused of, but despite Season 8 Episode 6 Genesis depicting him being still alive after four years in the Quintessence Field, the audience is treated to an image of his melted corpse four episodes later, while his abusive mother searches alternate realities for a better version of him.

The first seven seasons of Game of Thrones depict Daenerys Targaryen as someone from an abusive family who was nevertheless determined to rise above her turbulent upbringing and make the world a better place. Over the course of the eighth and final season, her new allies disrespect her, her lover repeatedly betrays her trust, and her advisers not only question her mental stability but immediately attempt to undermine her campaign as soon as a male heir to the throne from her bloodline is presented to them. When her trusted confidant is murdered in the penultimate episode, she snaps and burns large swaths of the capitol to the ground with dragon fire. In the series finale, her remaining advisers convince her lover to kill her for the good of the realm, and her destructive rage is presented as who she always was.  

In the narrative of these characters’ stories, some of these fit with the themes of that character’s story arc. Black Widow sacrificing herself makes sense because of the symmetry with what we know of her backstory. Clint Barton gave her a second chance and guided her back from the dark path she was on when they first met, and in Avengers: Endgame, she returns the favor. Her death, while upsetting to many fans for different reasons, fits within the context of her personal narrative arc from across the last decade of Marvel movies. 

While Daenerys turning into a Mad Queen like her father would still be disappointing to fans hoping to see her disprove the “madness is in the blood” ideas about her family, it wouldn’t have come entirely out of nowhere. The hints that she had the potential to go down that path were there, even if many hoped it would only remain potential. One of the biggest issues is how Season 8 portrayed her descent into madness. Her cruelty towards King’s Landing is treated not as the rage of someone who has been pushed too far, but that this is who she always was. 

Meanwhile Ben Solo’s death came suddenly and abruptly after repeated narrative fakeouts that he came back from. The previous films, novels, and comics had built him up as a victim of abuse and set up audiences to anticipate him breaking free of the Dark Side and finding a happy ending, likely while working to atone for his actions as Kylo Ren. But despite his actor having been promised that Ben Solo’s story would not end the same way that Darth Vader’s did, that was exactly what happened: with the redeemed villain dying to save a person they loved. 

The context may differ, but there is a visible pattern of major genre franchises in the last year taking this type of complicated character and either killing them off when they’re finally in a good place mentally and emotionally, or in the case of Lotor and Daenerys, striping away their happiness to force them into the role of a one-dimensional tyrant and then killing them off. Lotor’s case is even more egregious because there were unanswered questions and inconsistencies surrounding his alleged crimes that after his death were never explained.  

While I doubt the creators of any of these titles set out to intentionally hurt people who identified with these characters, their narrative choices still send very damaging messages. 

These character’s backstories involve them either intentionally or unintentionally set up to fail by the people around them. Where most characters begin with a blank slate, theirs was already written in with expectations, pressure, violence, condemnation, control, manipulation, and/or outright subjugation. Fans young and old find them relatable because of similar rough pasts or trauma, often because or in spite of their grey moral compasses. This type of character resonates with audiences because they represent what it means to be human -  to struggle, to make mistakes, and to have the ability to atone for them in the end. 

Except in recent stories they don’t ever get that chance. Seeing Ben Solo and Lotor and Daenerys and Loki denied a chance at a happy ending tells people who identify with them that they will never find happiness. That their struggle toward the light is doomed to fail and will only end in death. 

And that isn’t the only divisive trend that’s been observed in recent years. Since 2018, there have been sequels and series finales where the characters whose bond was the core of the story go their separate ways either after the conflict has been resolved or as the means to resolve the conflict: 

In the series finale of Star Wars: Rebels, audience viewpoint character Ezra Bridger forces Grand Admiral Thrawn’s Star Destroyer fleet into hyperspace to protect the capital city of his planet Lothal from orbital bombardment. This separates him from his Found Family, and due to their commitments to the rebellion it isn’t until several years later that they set out to find him and bring him home. 

During the course of Ralph Breaks the Internet: Wreck-it Ralph 2, Vanellope von Schweetz becomes enamored with the virtual world of the internet, having grown tired of the routine of her life in the arcade in the five years since the original movie. Ralph’s desire for life to stay the same and his insecurities over losing his best friend drive the plot of the movie, and the conflict is resolved when Ralph learns to let go of his insecurities and respect Vanellope’s wishes. Ralph returns to the arcade while Vanellope remains on the internet, though they stay in touch via video chat.

The series finale of Voltron: Legendary Defender depicts the surviving paladins going their separate ways after the war ends, only meeting up once a year for a memorial dinner to honor Allura’s sacrifice. Lance is depicted with the markings of Allura’s people branded on his face, grieving her as he spends his days working on his family’s farm. Keith returns to the stars to restructure the Blade of Marmora into a peacetime organization. Hunk becomes a galactic chef, while Pidge returns to Earth to build robots at the Garrison. A year after the series, Shiro retires from the job he loves and marries one of the men on the bridge crew for the Atlas. 

In order to protect the dragons of Berk from Grimmel the dragon hunter, Hiccup must send Toothless away so that the Night Fury can lead the Berkian dragons to the safety of the Hidden World. Year later Hiccan and Astrid take their children to the entrance of the Hidden World where they reunite with their dragon friends and their children. 

In order to defeat Thanos and his army, Iron Man uses the Infinity Stones to snap Thanos’ legions out of existence at the cost of his own life. Following Tony’s funeral, Captain America returns the Stones to their original timeline before settling down in an alternate timeline to live a peaceful life with Peggy Carter in the 1940s. After reaching old age, Steve returns to his original timeline and passes the mantle of Captain America on to Sam Wilson along with the repaired shield. Thor abdicates the throne of New Asgard to Valkyrie before setting off to the stars with the Guardians of the Galaxy. Hawkeye returns to the quiet farm life with his wife and children, and the remaining heroes all go their separate ways. 

After the death of Daenerys in the series finale of Game of Thrones, the Westerosi nobility decided to form an elected monarchy, choosing Bran Stark as the next king of the Seven Kingdoms. Sansa returns to Winterfell, where she becomes Queen of the North, while Jon Snow is “exiled” beyond the wall, and Arya sets sail to explore lands west of Westeros. 

In Toy Story 4, Woody is feeling pushed to the side as Bonny plays with him less than she does the other toys. After getting lost on a road trip, Woody is reunited with his lost love, Bo Peep, who has been living alone scavenging from humans rather than being played with by a single child. After rescuing Bonnie’s new toy Forky, Woody and Bo race to get everyone back to the RV before Bonny’s family leaves. Before boarding the RV, Woody ultimately decides to stay with Bo, and he parts ways with the rest of Andy’s toys as the film ends. 

After the previous film was about Maleficent becoming a surrogate mother figure to Aurora, the sequel, Maleficent: Mistress of Evil, is about Maleficent learning to let her daughter grow up and leave the nest. After Queen Ingrid’s crusade against the fairies is thwarted, Maleficent gives her blessing for Aurora’s marriage to Phillip and lets her adopted daughter go. Maleficent returns to the Moors with the promise that she will return when Aurora and Phillip have a child of their own. 

In the course of uncovering and making amends for their bigoted grandfather’s actions against the Northuldra people, Elsa and Anna learn that the rumored fifth spirit that bridges the mortal and the supernatural is actually them and their bond. After breaking the curse on the Enchanted Forest, Elsa abdicated her throne and remains in the forest to continue exploring the full extent of her powers while Anna takes the throne. Thanks to the magic of the other elemental spirits, the sisters remain in constant contact, with Elsa returning to Arendelle for regular visits. 

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker establishes that Ben Solo and Rey are a dyad in the Force - literal soulmates. At the end of the movie, Rey sacrifices her life to destroy Palpatine, and after climbing up from the pit he was tossed into, Ben uses the Force to heal Rey’s wounds and bring her back to life, at which point he immediately dies. After a victory celebration with the Resistance, Rey travels to Tatooine and is last seen burying Luke and Leia’s lightsabers in the sands outside the farm where Luke grew up. 

As with the trend of killing off morally complicated characters, some of these examples work within the context of the film. 

Motherhood was an important element of Maleficent’s arc across the two live action films, and learning to let her daughter leave the nest is a classic lesson in a parental figure’s character arc. 

Hiccup and Toothless parting ways fits with the How To Train Your Dragon series’ focus on protecting the dragons and the animal conservation message that comes with that. 

Ezra being separated from his found family at the end of Rebels was a way to maintain Luke Skywalker’s status as the only Jedi working for the rebellion in the original movies without permanently killing Ezra off, and the show’s writers left the door open for a potential sequel focused on Sabine following his trail to bring him home. 

Other examples, however, do not align with the themes of their respective franchises. 

Game of Thrones spent several seasons focusing on the surviving Stark children as they find their way back to each other. Sending them all in different directions at the end feels disappointing and pointless after they had finally been reunited in the previous season. 

The Paladins of Voltron finding their own careers after the war that take them to different parts of the galaxy but still making the effort to consistently stay in contact makes sense in theory, but with the death of Allura it comes across as if her passing broke the team apart. 

While the original Avengers going their separate ways to let a new generation of heroes step into the limelight seems like an organic conclusion to the Infinity Saga, Captain America’s ending in particular feels like a regression. His character arc across his previous solo films has been about moving forward, and Endgame concludes with him literally going backward. 

It’s been common for fan complaints over these story elements to be directed mainly at the people directly responsible for making each project - the showrunners, the movie directors, the script writers…… But I couldn’t help but notice just how many of these examples for both trends fell under the Disney umbrella.

And then I remembered that Infinity War, Endgame, and The Rise of Skywalker all had reshoots done at some point in the production process. 

It really makes me wonder how much of these disliked story decisions were really the individual directors’ and showrunners’ decisions and how much were mandated by someone higher up the ladder. And I can’t help but notice the demographics of the people in charge of these companies and the people affected by them. 

The demographics of fans that enjoy morally complicated characters and want them to have a happy ending, that enjoy stories where the the characters who bonded over the course of the story stay together after their mutual goal is achieved, are from what I’ve observed predominantly made up of women, LGBTQ+ people, disabled people, nonwhite people, and people with mental illnesses. 

And most of the people in charge of these story decisions are cis, straight, neurotypipcal, able-bodied white men. The CEO of Disney... The showrunners of Game of Thrones….. Voltron’s a little more complicated because while Dreamworks made the show they didn’t own the franchise, but the Voltron IP owner is a straight white male.  

These stories are controlled by straight white men, and the audiences that have the biggest negative reactions to these story decisions are women, LGBTQ+ people, and POC. 

Companies may talk about having more diversity on camera and behind the camera, but the people at the top of the corporate hierarchy - the ones with the money and therefore the ultimate control over what gets released to the public - are for the most part the same demographic as they've always been.

And all of these show finales and movies have been released within the last four years, as fandom spaces and American public discourse in general have become increasingly polarized into a black and white mentality with no room for nuance. Where someone can only be either a perfect ally or an offensive oppressor. This trend in killing off morally complicated characters in ways that don’t always work for their character arc has also coincided with the rise of fandom’s pearl clutching over moral purity and whether a villain or anti villain “deserves” a redemption arc. 

Your first instinct will probably be to dismiss what I’m suggesting, insisting that these are just shows and movies and that they don’t matter. That it’s Not That DeepTM. But more often than not the media we consume is a reflection of the world around us. And we are seeing a pattern that as fandom becomes increasingly obsessed with purity and enforces a “one strike and you’re a monster” mentality, the major franchises of pop culture are producing stories where people who aren’t clear-cut Pure Good Heroes or Pure Evil Villains die. 

Also, dismissing people’s thoughts about the social messages of a movie or show, insisting that we’re wrong for saying that something doesn’t fit with the story so far, is part of the problem. Having critics and other fans praising the stories we feel hurt by and dismissing our criticisms as, for example, whiny shippers mad that our favorite pairings didn’t happen, has a very stifling, damaging effect. It tells us over and over again that this is the way that stories are supposed to be, and that there is something weird, broken, wrong with us for not being satisfied with stories that break up the Found Family or kill off your morally messed up fave regardless of whether it actually makes sense for the story. 

It leaves us isolated and alienated from wider fandom discussions because we’re told it again and again until we internalize it that we’re in the wrong. That people just don’t want to make the kinds of stories we want to see. That we’re paranoid for suspecting that there is a pattern when we see this happen over and over. But it’s clear from the way that some creators have acted - going from excitedly promoting their work to complete silence after the initial disappointment over the finale - that there are creators who want to tell those kinds of stories, but they are being silenced. They are being forced to change the stories they wanted to tell because someone in charge didn’t like that kind of story, and because of their NDAs are forced to either keep silent, or lie and take credit for decisions that weren’t theirs. 

It’s easy to dismiss these story decisions as a coincidence. To believe that all of these creators made similar decisions on their own. That they just fucked up a beautiful story on their own with no intervention from someone higher up the corporate ladder. It’s a comforting option. It makes us feel like our criticisms have an impact. Because the alternative? That creators can and have been forced to change their stories because the person at the top doesn’t think that it’ll sell well if it doesn’t cater to the demographic they consider most important? That’s terrifying. 

[peonybane]

Beyond the Veil: Part 1

Pairing: Choi Youngjae (GOT7) x Psychopomp!Reader

Word Count: 8.3 k

Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, Angst, Psychopomp AU, Doctor AU

Warnings: Mentions and depictions of death (I don’t know how to word this as… this is a story about a Grim Reaper), Pining (so much pining)

Summary: Life is a gift. Every Spirit of Death knew this. They weren’t allowed to touch Life — weren’t allowed to experience it. Every once in a while they can, the unspoken rule being that Death can only fall in love once with Life. And never again.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone for your patience with me on this. Especially since this was suppose to be a one-shot and I’ve learn my lesson that it is not. Thank you to the platonic love of my life, @ropeseok​ for putting up with me through this whole process.

If you’d like to notified/tagged when PART 2 comes out, please reblog this part! 

White. Sterile. The overwhelming use of anti-septic burned your nose slightly. A hospital. Here you were again. You practically lived here. Though, you supposed there was worse places you could end up as a Spirit of Death. You could’ve ended up like some of your brethren, always seeming to be summoned to battlefields. Or worse….

You shook the thought from your head. No, things could be far worse. Besides, Death was inevitable. No one could run from it. No one could fight it… not really. It was just a matter of how each soul would meet their escort.

You wandered the halls, the humans not noticing you at all. Looking down, you watched as the threads of your dress — thin, wispy grey tendrils, really — swayed and snaked around you, eventually fading away into nothing as they connected to the souls that you’d eventually escort, all varying shades of grey. One of the threads pulsed and darkened — this was the reason why you were here today — you were here to escort a soul.

Wandering around the hospital, you kept an eye on the thread — you had some time before you had to collect the soul. No need to rush being a voyeur to pain and grief. 

Instead, you wandered over to the ward that was your secret pleasure: the maternity ward.

Babies were… fascinating to you. After all, most of those you interacted with were the aged and sick. You dealt with the inevitable. But birth… birth was practically magic to you. Despite the tales told by humans, your kind was not omnipotent — you just knew a few more certainties than humans did. But birth… was the greatest mystery of all…. 

It was the greatest forbidden fruit.

But more than just the babies, you came to this ward for a particular reason: Dr. Choi.

You nearly missed him — his back facing towards you, the white lab coat obstructing his figure before he turned at the last moment. He was excusing himself from a patient’s room, just down the hall from you. You probably would have missed him entirely if it wasn’t for his laugh. The place where you should’ve had a heart gave a small pitter patter when you saw him. He was… so full of life. The dedication he had for his patients. His zest for life. His laugh. He fascinated you in ways you never knew was possible.

He still made you feel the way you had the first time you saw him. 

You got lost, actually, ending up in the wrong operating room. As an OB/GYN surgeon, he was skilled as he performed a c-section. What fascinated you was that as he was performing the operation, he kept speaking to the mother, reassuring her of how well she was doing. Even cracking a joke or two when he realized she was starting to freak out. 

You were so distracted in that moment, you almost missed getting the soul you needed to retrieve, lest their soul wander free and reek havoc, haunting the world as they looked for their bodies or searched for the Forest.

Dr. Choi (you’d yet to hear his first name, you didn’t want to, you didn’t want to get too attached) adjusted his sterile blue scrubs before he made his way towards his office. You were tempted to follow him, just to watch him from afar… just like you always had.

“If you stare at him any harder, you’re going to set him on fire.”

You jumped at the sound of Jaebeom’s voice. “Dammit, Jaebeom! Don’t do that.”

You turned around, staring up into the dark eyes of Jaebeom, a named Spirit of Death — your brother in some sense. His shaggy, long black hair was pulled away from his face, showing off his piecing dark eyes. He smirked down at you, his stance utterly relaxed under his own Death Shroud, a duster jacket. On his shoulders, his Bombay feline familiar, Haneul, laid across his broad shoulders, her sleek, black fur almost disappearing under the blanket of Jaebeom’s own hair, her bright yellow eyes staring at you sleepily.

“Long time no see, little Morana.”

You rolled your eyes at him. You hated it when he called you that. Though to be fair… you didn’t have a name. None of the Spirits of Death did; instead — they’d take on a title of sorts, using names the humans made up if need be. The only way to have a Name, one that no one could take or abuse, was to live a Life.

A Life which Jaebeom lived to the fullest.

“It’s good to see you, Jaebeom.” You looked around. “Where’s the kittens?”

Jaebeom laughed. He reached into the deep pockets of his jacket and with withdrew his two other familiars, Yugyeom and Kunpimook. The older of the two, Kunpimook was lovingly called BamBam for all the trouble he caused as a lanky, white haired, green-eyed Oriental Shorthair. Yugyeom was a giant, blue eyed, fluffy, grey Maine Coon. Both of them looked at you, almost angrily, having their naps disturbed.

You smiled as Jaebeom passed off Yugyeom to you, the big boy immediately purring into your arms. Jaebeom smiled as he cuddled BamBam in his own arms. “He missed you.”

You smiled a little. You couldn’t hear Jaebeom’s familiars. Only he could. His mind was connected to theirs, their bond cemented when the foursome was human.

“I can tell.”

Everything was silent for a moment. Even the sound of nurses wandering around the ward seemed to have quieted down for a moment. You hadn’t seen Jaebeom for a while. Not since he came back from living amongst humans. You, Jaebeom, and Haneul were inseparable for the first few years after Haneul died, helping Jaebeom return to his previous duties as a Spirit of Death.

“What are you doing here, Jaebeom?”

Jaebeom practically bristled. Well, Haneul did anyways. “It’s your 1,500th year, right?”

You sighed. Of course. That was why he was here. 

Yugyeom nuzzled further into your touch, smushing his face into the crook of your arm. Jaebeom continued. “I just... I heard that you were thinking about not accepting Hermes’ gift for once. You’ve always accept his gift before. Do — Do you want to talk about it?”

Sighing, you looked away from Jaebeom, no longer able to meet his gaze. He leaned down to be eye level with you. Haneul pushed off his broad shoulder a little to head butt you to get your attention. “Do you want to talk about him?”

You scoffed. “I’m not in love.”

“Could have fooled me. Besides, I never mentioned anything about love.”

Biting your lower lip, you asked, “Am I actually in love with him? Or do I just want what you have and see him as a means to an end? Either way — I shouldn’t tempt Fate.”

He was silent as he thought about it. “Only you can answer that. But I would give him a chance, either way. I wasn’t sure if I was truly in love with Haneul. But I trusted my instincts. How could I not take a chance when I couldn’t take my eyes off her? How could I not want her with me forever from the moment her gaze fell upon me? Not through me.”

His voice grew softer as he continued. “Our existence is a lonely one. Do you know why Hermes lets us live as humans for just one day every 500 years? Or why we’re allowed to live amongst them for a single lifetime?”

Swallowing, you shook your head. In comparisons to Jaebeom, you were practically a baby. Hermes was distant. He didn’t interact with his… children too much anymore. 

Jaebeom stroked your hair, his gaze growing soft and tender. “Because he wants his children to have what he never could: to experience Life. To find companionship. There are nearly a million of us. But each of us is alone; our existence just an inevitable truth. A kindness. A tragic truth. We are alone, even when we’re together. But a lifetime with humans — the memories are fulfilling. We can fall in love —“

Haneul nuzzled Jaebeom, purring. In Life, they were married. For a moment, you wondered if their souls (or at least whatever your kind had) were entwined from the beginning of time. “— We can have a family.”

His gaze fell to the cats happily snoozing in both of your arms. In Life, they were Jaebeom and Haneul’s adopted sons, Jaebeom never being able to father any.

“Please… talk to me. Out of all our nameless brothers and sisters, I worry about you the most.”

Sniffling, you wiped the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, nearly dropping Yugyeom in the process. “I — I don’t want to condemn him. Like you said, our existence is a lonely one. And — And he’s just so full of Life. How could I surround him by death? Human always see us as a horribly dark thing.”

Jaebeom kissed your forehead. “Don’t make that decision for him. Let him choose.”

You opened your mouth to reply, to argue, then you felt the pull. 

It was time. 

It was time to collect the soul.

As if sensing it, Jaebeom took Yugyeom from your arms again, cradling the two overgrown kittens like babies. Your dress slowly started to change. From the simple dress, your Death Shroud changed into that of a military uniform, the grey threads unweaved themselves then reweaved, forming the new garment as it paled, turning white. Like it always did when it was time to guide a soul. 

You no longer felt your body change — you had long since lost interest in the change. Your form changed to whatever the soul needed from you to find comfort. Sometimes it was just your face. Other times you might physically regress back to the form of a child, making the tragic loss a little less painful. At times, you might have ‘aged,’ providing comfort in being a quiet companion in their final stroll. And on rare occasions, your sex would change — a moment of familiarity or perhaps even safety, a small reassurance that everything would be ok — that you were nothing like the monsters they were finally escaping.

Glancing up, or rather, to, Jaebeom, your gaze no longer turned upward to meet his piercing eyes. Ah, probably meant you either resembled someone much taller than you’d normally stand, or  your apparent sex had changed.

Looking you over, Jaebeom gave you a solemn nod. “Whatever you choose, little one….”

“I know,” sounding the same to your own ears, but probably vastly different to Jaebeom’s as his eyes widened slightly.

You gave him a casual salute before walking off in the direction of the soul you needed to collect. Glancing around, you tried to catch another glimpse of Dr. Choi. But he was nowhere to be seen. You let out a small sigh, disappointed before you headed towards the intensive care ward.

You phased through various walls until you found yourself in the right place. You could practically smell his soul becoming weaker and weaker. Your gaze following the thread that led from your Shroud, the thread this time at your left wrist, to his right hand, having wrapped around it along his life line.

There, in a hospital bed, laid an old man on a ventilator, his wife sitting next to him, her hand clutching his. His heartbeat grew slower, his eyes glassy. Slowly, you joined the two of them as you stood to the opposite side of the bed of his wife. He let out an exhale as his eyes focused in on you, finally seeing you. 

It was time.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his forehead. He took his last breath, his eyes falling closed. The heart rate monitor flat lined; his wife began to sob. 

As you pulled away, you grasped his now lifeless hands, gently coaxing his soul from his body. Standing before you was not the withered, old man that laid in the bed. No, instead, it was a man in his prime, adorned in a perfectly maintained uniform and various medals on his chest.

You smiled at him. “On your feet, Captain. It’s time for your next mission.”

He looked around, dazed. He seemed solid enough. At least until he reached out to touch his wife, his hand going right through her. Staring at his hand, he asking you, shakily, “Am I dead?”

Gently, you replied, “Yes,” taking his hands in yours.

His eyes grew large. You squeezed his hands, trying to help him keep calm. “What… What about my wife?”

You glanced over to the woman, still weeping for the loss of her husband as a nurse entered the room. You were not her guide. You didn’t know when exactly when she’d die. But you could tell… she had a few years left in her.

“Do you have children? Grandchildren?”

He nodded. “Three daughters. Four grandbabies with two more on the way.”

You smiled at him. “She’ll be ok. As long as she has them, the rest of her life will be good. Even as she misses you. But you’ll be together soon. You just have to wait for her on the other side.”

He nodded again, slowly. He let go of your hands, turning back towards his wife. He leaned over and did the best he could, kissing her forehead. He whispered, “I love you, yeobo. I’ll wait for you.”

Turning back towards you, stood at attention, saluting you. In turn, you returned the gesture. “Shall we go, Captain?”

“Yes.”

You nodded. At your hip, you reached for your Sickle. Instead of the small, practical instrument that usually hung at your hip, it too had transformed to accompany your Shroud. At your hip was a ceremonial saber. How appropriate, you couldn’t help but think. 

Unsheathing it, you admired its elegance. A small part of you wished your Sickle could have been a sword or a saber. Perhaps then humans wouldn’t fear a monstrosity of a sickle, fearful of it taking their souls by force. Taking a deep breath (despite not really needing one) you swung it in front of you, it’s blade cutting through space and time, opening a hole to the Forest.

The portal expanded, the edges shimmering as you sheathed the saber once more. You held your hand out again for him. “Come.”

As he took your hand, almost hesitantly, you led him through.

The Forest. Or, at least, that’s what you called it. Like everything else, it was nameless. But it had to be called something. Some called it Eden. Shangri-La. Arcadia. Xanadu. Yomi. Purgatory.

So many different names… and yet none of them quite correct. Perhaps the closest was Axis Mundi— where Life and the Afterlife met.

Your charge looked around the Forest in wonder as you closed the portal. You were surrounded by giant trees — trees that were sturdy even before Hermes began his sacred duty. In their bark was inscribed with uncountable names, each one belonging to a single soul that’s passed over. Their large leaves overhead provided ample shade, creating the illusion that there was a blue sky and shining sun above you. But there was nothing. It was just an endless void up there.

But that didn’t matter.

Not with the thousands of flowers blooming at your feet and the countless tendrils of ivy and moss dancing across the multitude of trees. Between the trees, you’d sometimes catch glimpses of other psychpomps out of the corner of your eye, finding themselves in comfortable silence with their familiars — whether as beasts or as humans. Wind rustled the leaves above, creating a sweet, comforting melody as it engulfed you in the familiar, loving smell of the flowers that were in eternal bloom. But there was no chattering of squirrels or the jubilant song of a bird, just the sound of leaves rustling and the bubbling of the creek up ahead.

No.

This was no place for them. This was no place for the living — no matter their form.

Your charge turned back to you. “Is — Is this Heaven?”

Smiling, you shook your head. So, he was the hopeful type. “No. This is only the threshold between your Life and what comes after this. Come.”

He followed behind you as you led the way down a very well worn path, the grass and flowers long gone. Even the top soil had been eroded away, leaving an almost polished alabaster stone path exposed. You led him down the path towards a creek, a bridge, born from the over grown roots of many trees, running over it.

“What… What is this?”

“Like this Forest and me, it has no name. But, I suppose humans would think of it as something like the River Styx. It’s a threshold into the Afterlife.”

His voice was strained as he looked between you and the bridge. “What — What comes next?”

You sighed, gazing at him in sympathy. You hated this question. “I don’t know.”

His anger fueled gazed turned its wrath upon you as he cried, “What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“I’m a Spirit of Death. I am bound forever to this plane, this side of the threshold between Life and what comes next. I cannot ever know what is beyond this point. But, I can tell you that you will not cease to exist. There is something after this. I just don’t know what it is.”

He seemed to have calmed down a bit. “Can I wait for my wife?”

You shook your head. “If you wait here, your soul will become restless. You’ll forget who you are. You’ll wreak havoc not only here, but also in the human world. You’ll be condemned to wander for eternity until one of my kind must Reap your soul.”

He glanced at the saber at your hip, understanding your meaning. “And your wife will not have you with her.”

He swallowed, absorbing what you’re saying. “So… do I just crossover? And that’s it?”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Yes. I’ve heard that supposedly, someone will be on the other side of the creek to greet you.” 

He saluted you, one final time before he headed for the bridge. You stood there, watching him as he found his footing on the bridge. Your Shroud and Sickle slowly returned to their natural form, your body shifting as well back to its natural state. 

As he walked further and further away, he began to glow, his luminosity increasing, a light that almost rivaled the sun until… he disappeared. The thread of your Shroud connecting you to him snapped, the sound as sudden and as loud as thunder. It took you awhile, but you at least no longer jumped at the sound.

Walking forward, you reached your hand out towards the bridge. You stopped just short of it, your hand shaking as you slowly tried to cross over that threshold, muscle memory reminding you that this wasn’t a good idea. And just as it had the few dozen thousand times before, the barrier zapped you, forcing you to retract your hand. You hissed, holding onto your slightly burnt fingertip as you glared at the barrier that now shimmered and rippled.

“I see you still haven’t learnt your lesson.”

You jumped, turning to face Hermes. He stood before you, intimidating and beautiful as always, this form suiting him well… even if the sight of him set you on edge. 

Ebony skin glowed, a stark contrast to his billowy white cloak. His hood framed his lovely face as he looked down at you, almost making him appear angelic. And in a way, he was. At least in the sense that humans would think of him. It instead set you on edge when he changed his form to be… more ‘approachable.’ Like everything else here, he had no name — instead choosing to take on various mythical mantles: Hermes, Azrael, the Grim, Charon, Anubis, and so many others. You knew him as Hermes.

From his back emerged a pair of large, iridescent, black wings, the feathers fluttering with the wind. You couldn’t help but notice how a couple of the feathers were barely hanging on, signally that once they’d fall from his wings, new Spirits of Death would rise from them.

Bowing your head, you said, “No, Lord Hermes. But I want to answer their question. Almost all of them ask me the same thing over and over again.”

His deep voice rumbled, “And I wish I could give you that answer. But I cannot. I do not know what lies beyond the Veil. And we will never know.”

You nodded in understanding. The same answer… as always. He continued, “I heard that you do not want to accept my gift. Why is that?”

You cringed. You completely forgot about that. Silent, you hesitated to answer.

He sighed. “What are you afraid of? Is it answering the question of what comes next? Are you afraid of rejection? Are you afraid to Live?”

You shot him a glare. You hated this. Hated that he knew. Hated the fact that Hermes was connected to all of you, knowing your deepest, darkest secrets. All because he shed you as a Feather.

He smirked at you, crossing his arms across his chest. “Ah… I see. You’re afraid to Live.”

You hissed back, “I can’t live! I was never alive to begin with.”

“You are very much alive, my child. You just have to go and discover it.” He waved his hand, a gust of wind spiraled around you. Instinct took over, raising your arms to shield your face from the cyclone of wind and leaves. But still, you glared daggers at Hermes as he took away your choice once more.

Irony dripped from his lips as he muttered, “Happy Birthday.”

—~—~—~—

The sky was still dark in Seoul. The sun hasn’t risen yet. But you could see the sky taking on intense shades of blue and grey — the world quiet and still outside of the temple you found yourself in. 

With a groan, you stood up from the cold wooden floor, goosebumps rising on your skin uncontrollably. You shivered. At least when you weren’t masquerading as human temperature never bothered you. 

“Ahh. I thought her vision didn’t sound quite right. I’ll go get you a different set of clothes.”

Turning around, you came face to face with the caretaker of the temple, a young priest. Slightly bowed, his obsidian black hair barely hid the darting of his eyes, looking everywhere but you. He was dressed in a simple, traditional hanbok as he stood there, a pile of red clothes in his arms.

Ahh…. A seer must have mistaken you for some other kind of spirit. Some sort of Pyro or Asmod if the colors and style were anything to go by.

The priest continued to look everywhere but you. You tilted your head in curiosity before you remembered — oh, humans and their modesty. Glancing down at yourself, you noted breasts and the small patch of hair upon your mons pubis. Oh, good. At least this time you’re in your preferred form it seems.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Thank you, Priest — ?”

“Jinyoung. Park Jinyoung.”

You smiled at him, covering up yourself as much as possible, for his sake. You didn’t particularly care. “Thank you, Jinyoung-ie. And yes,” You glanced at the clothes he held tightly in his hands. “I would like a different set of clothes.”

He gave you a curt nod before scurrying off to get you something more appropriate.

You sighed.

24 hours. 24 hours of being human. The last time you were human… you were in Venice. Boy was that an interesting time with the Renaissance and all. Had… had it really been that long?

There was a knock on the door. This time it was a girl’s voice. “Grim? I’ve brought you your clothes. I’d also like to apologize for the mistake in my vision.”

Grim. Out of all the things humans called your kind… it wasn’t the kindest… nor the most horrendous.

“Come in.”

The door opened and a girl entered, her gaze was to the ground as she held a bundle of light grey clothing. She looked young, perhaps no older than 20. Certainly not of the age to know exactly what she was seeing in her visions. She had no control of what she’d see. She would probably just be finishing learning how to identify various demons and spirits from her visions if you had to take a guess.

She knelt before you, laying the clothes on the ground before bowing. “My name is Chaewon. I’d like to apologize, Grim. It was my mistake that my brother brought you the wrong type of clothes.”

You picked up the bundle of clothing, starting to dress yourself. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re the youngest seer I’ve seen in a very long time. I’m curious though, what did you see?”

Chaewon looked down, her face flushed and she turned red all the way to her ears. Oh?

Her voice shook. “I... I saw a man. He was naked. His face covered in shadows. And he made,” she paused, turning even redder before she continued, “a noise. A very… happy noise.”

“Oh.”

You felt your own face heat. 

You may have lived for well over a millennia, but you still had some sense of shame. Or at least hers made you hyperaware of your own. As you finished dressing, you replied, “In that case, I don’t blame you for thinking I was an Asmod. A vision like that… I don’t know if I would have chosen any differently.”

“But I should’ve —“

“How old are you?”

You knelt down in front of her, your simple cotton dress pooling slightly around you as you knelt to get down on Chaewon’s level. She finally looked you in the eye. A small thrill went through you — the Living never looked you in the eye. 

“Seventeen.”

Just as you thought. “You’re young. Younger than I would have expected. Despite your age, you interpreted what you saw well. If you saw sex, anyone would assume that it were an Asmod or some other daemon.”

She did not look reassured. You continued. “Do you what my kind typical do on our one day amongst the Living?”

She quickly shook her head. You smirked a little.

“We wander. The one day we’re allowed to interact with the Living, we tend to do what we did before: observe. Perhaps, we’d join in on festivities. Perhaps, we spend the day at a park, watching children play. Perhaps, we play with them. But sex? Sex is not something we are particularly interested in. You interpreted correctly.”

She didn’t say anything, but you knew she understood — that she didn’t make a real mistake. She interpreted what she saw correctly. But what she saw… concerned you. Why? Why you would you have… sex? It was such a… human activity. Your kind, especially those who had yet to live a Lifetime, didn’t understand it. It wasn’t like you could reproduce, so it never really made sense to you.

Your quiet moment was broken by Jinyoung clearing his throat. You looked up at him, he had changed into ordinary clothes. “Grim? Please let me know where’d you like me to take you. I’ll take you anywhere in the city.”

Standing up, you nodded. “Thank you, Priest. Lead the way.”

You made your way past Chaewon, following the young priest down the hall. He brought you to an entryway, several cubicles lined up with shoes. He indicated for you to take a pair. As you sat down to slip on a pair of black, flat ankle boots, he rejoined you. When did he disappear?

In his hand, he held a bag. “These are for you, Grim. Inside you’ll find money and other amenities you’ll need.”

You took the bag from him, looking at the contents. “I’m surprised you’re able to give me this much. Especially since I’ll only be here a day.”

He shook his head. “The Guardian Spirit of this temple makes sure that when you return to the Veil, the things we gave you find their way back here in due time. There is no need to worry.”

Smiling, you nodded. You stood up, ready to follow him. Nodding, he lead you out to a car. It wasn’t the fanciest car in the world, certainly not one of those sports cars you never bothered learning about. But it looked well taken care of. 

Jinyoung opened the passenger side door for you. You nodded to him in thanks as you slipped inside. After shutting your door, he quickly made his way to the driver’s side. 

After a brief explanation on how and why you should be wearing a seatbelt (How were you suppose to know that, at the very least, you could get him in trouble if you didn’t wear one?), he drove you out of the temple.

“Where would you like me to take you?”

Biting your lip, you hesitated to answer. Did you want to see him? Or did you want to avoid him completely. Before you could completely think it through, you found yourself replying, “Jung-gu. Near the hospital.”

He made a small noise of confirmation, taking you towards the district.

—~—~—~—

The drive was longer than you had expected. Who knew Seoul traffic was so congested?

Glancing out the window, you caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time, nearly jumping out of your skin. Normally, you had no reflection. The rare times you’d ever see your own reflection would be if you caught a glimpse of it mirroring you in the creek back in the Forest. Staring at yourself in the passenger side mirror, you couldn’t help but touch your face, brow knit together in concentration.

“So it’s true then.”

The sound of Jinyoung’s voice made you jump. Phoenix farts, why were you so jumpy lately? Turning to him, you noted the smirk on his lips and figured that behind those sunglasses his eyes were full of mirth.

“Is what true?”

“That you don’t see your reflections.”

You swallowed. “Rarely. Very rarely. Even when we do… they’re not quite as… solid as they when we’re occasionally human.”

He made a small noise of understanding, turning his full attention back on the road. Outside of the car, for a brief moment, between the shadows of buildings, you caught a glimpse of the hospital. It was an unusual feeling, but your heart thundered in your chest. You couldn’t tell if you were excited or scared. A part of you wanted to beg Jinyoung to take you somewhere else in the city. Anywhere. But another part of you, the stronger part, wanted to be there, to be near him.

All too soon, Jinyoung pulled into a parking space. You struggled for a moment, thinking that just tugging on the seatbelt would set you free before putting two and two together that there was a button. Heat flared up in your cheeks out of embarrassment — such an unusual feeling, not one that you’re sure you’ll ever get used to, you don’t think. Stepping out of the car, you politely bowed, ready to walk away from Jinyoung. 

It’s a shame really… even as a human you would have been able to see the thread wrapped around his hand, following the pattern of his life line if he was a soul you were to collect. You would have liked to speak to him once again.

“Saja-nim!”

You paused. There was one you hadn’t heard in a while. A rather polite one at that. “Yes, Priest?”

His gaze was almost painful as he looked you in the eye. It was unnerving really — having someone looking directly at you like this. With utter certainty, as if he just knew, he cryptically said, “I look forward to speaking with you again.”

Before you could inquire further as to exactly what he meant, he reached across the passenger and pulled the car door shut and practically shot out of the parking space like a bat out of hell. What a weird priest.

Stepping away from the street, you took in your surroundings. The sun was out, filtering through the buildings of Seoul, this part of the city still relatively quiet though, still just early enough for most people to have not quite left home for work. It was peaceful. It was Life. And you could close your eyes, take a deep breath, and take it all in — truly take it in.

A piercing cry of “COCO-YAH!!!” broke your peace and quiet.

Turning towards the voice, you lost your footing as small white ball of fuzz on four legs bolted towards you, or rather, attempting to bolt past you. Attempting was the operative word. As you teetered backwards, sort of regaining your footing, the almost panicked ringing of a bicycle bell was the only warning you got before making eye contact with a startled bicyclist.

If you weren’t fighting instinct, perhaps you would have moved. But time and time against, you never had to worry about moving — danger would just move right through you.

But not now.

No, your brain had shut down in shock. Of course you would get hurt the one day you were human.

Before the cyclist could collide with you, you were harshly pulled out of his way. Instead of someone colliding into you… you were the one doing the colliding.

Foot catching on uneven cobblestone, your center of mass shifted, your body landing against a very warm, soft, yet very solid body, nearly taking him to the ground.

A sweet voice, one that sent shivers down you spine — one that you almost dreadfully recognized — asked, “Are you ok?”

Hesitantly, you looked up, holding your breath, trying to imprint this memory of his warm hold on you forever into your skin. When yours eyes met… you finally understood what Jaebeom was talking about.

You were absolutely and utterly fucked.

It was the moon-like face you’d seen from a distance more times than you could count. Except unlike the moon, he was close enough to worship with your lips if you tried. From afar you had always thought he was handsome, but up close, he was deadly — the combination of soft and sharp features were too tempting and dangerous.

Your eyes flicked for a moment to his lips, his breath faltering for a moment across your face before you dared to finally look him in the eye.

Definitely fucked. Hopeless fucked, really.

His eyes were gentle, in spite of their sharp, intense shape. So curious. So full of concern. And there was something else. You had seen it before, though you couldn’t place it where. All you knew was that you could get lost in those eyes… and happily so.

The spell was broken as his large wire-framed round glasses slowly slipped down the bridge of his nose. You pulled away from his hold, regaining your footing as you cleared your throat, hoping to buy another moment to clear your mind. Get a hold of yourself, you said you wouldn’t get involved with him. But, oh, the thought was so very tempting.

Your voice cracked. “Ye — Yes. Thank you for catching me.”

He nodded, wiping his hands on his pants, almost unsure of himself. At your feet, a couple of small barks got your attention. The little white dog from earlier was at your feet, barking, her little tail wagging as she gazed up at Dr. Choi.

Dr. Choi exclaimed, “COCO-YAH!!!!!” as he picked up the little, almost contrary, cotton ball.

Lifting her up to eye level, he asked, “Yah! What was that for? I lose my grip on your leash for a moment to grab the mail and you just bolt? No! Don’t you try that sweet act on me, you spoilt, little princess.”

He sighed in defeat as she wagged her tail, tongue flicking out to lick his nose, his face scrunching up cutely in response. You couldn’t help but laugh as he brought her in close, coddling her even as he continued to look exasperatedly annoyed.

He turned his gaze back on you, his eyes soft as he took a moment to wet his lips. He held his hand out to you. “I’m Choi Youngjae. And this little, fluffy, white hell spawn is Coco.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

This was the last thing you needed. You swallowed, a poor attempt at controlling your breathing. You placed your hand in his. 

“It’s nice to meet you.”

There was a pause for a moment before Youngjae — no — Dr. Choi (he had to stay as Dr. Choi), smiled gently at you. Bending at the hips, he lowered himself just enough so he could tilt his gaze up to look up at you, a small smile on his lips as he cutely asked, “And what is your name?”

The usual spike of anxiety that would come with this question never came. Instead, automatically, almost as if you had answer this questions hundreds of time like a human, you gave him a name. 

Not Morana. Nor Saja. But an actual name. It was… your name. 

He repeated it quietly to himself. It struck you like lightning. This must be the feeling Jaebeom told you about so many times but never understood.

For a moment it was silent between the two of you. You wanted this feeling to last, whatever it was. You had never known such an inner warmth. What you wouldn’t give to have him whisper your name once more.

Of course, Coco had to ruin the moment, having had enough. She started wriggling around in his hold, desperately wanting to be free to reek havoc like she had before. Dr. Choi sighed, bending down further to place her back on the ground. A firm hold on the leash this time.

As he straightened up, he looked at you shyly from behind his glasses. “So, umm, where are you from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before?”

You swallowed. Never in a million years would you have thought you’d have to answer such a simple question.

You blurted out, “Visting! Umm, just for the day.”

“Well, umm, I guess I should let you get back to it then. I’m sure you must have plans.”

He went to turn, his shoulders slumping. “No!”

Dr. Choi turned back to you, eyes wide and eyebrow raised at your outburst. More calming you repeated, “No. Umm, actually, I don’t have plans. Despite wanting to come here for a while now….” You laughed out your response, “I have no idea what I’m going to do now that I’m here.”

A moment of clarity graced his features before the brightest smile you had ever seen revealed itself.

“In that case, how would you like a local to show you around?”

A smile found its way onto your lips. “I’d like that very much.”

He offered you his hand. You hesitated, glancing between the soft and dexterous hand and his hopeful face. “I know a great dog friendly cafe near by if you’d like to join me.”

You found yourself squeaking out a reply, barely above a whisper, “I’d love to.”

You placed your hand in his and for a moment, you swore sparks flew. His palm was warm, a stark contrast to your own chilly one. Dr. Choi gave a small laugh. You glanced up to him, brows knit. He licked his lips almost nervously before he shyly replied, “It’s just something my mother used to tell me: the kindest, most caring people are so worried about everyone else that they don’t even notice when their hands are cold.”

For some reason… him just saying that… it created a pressure in your chest, an almost overwhelming feeling, as if you were a pitcher ready to overflow with emotion. It was… it was gentlest thing anyone had ever said to you.

You felt the tears threatening to overflow, but you kept them hidden. After all, why would anyone cry at that? 

All you could do was purse your lips as you look down at the ground, half-heartedly nodding your head, hoping that it was enough to hide the emotion threaten to escape. If Dr. Choi noticed, he didn’t say anything. He simply made a hum of acknowledgement, squeezing your hand before gently tugging you to an unspecified direction. 

Little Coco couldn’t seem to make up her mind on whether or not she wanted to be carried or to lead the charge. Either way, Youngj — Dr. Choi — seemed to give in to her each time, never letting go of your hand no matter what. Coco was in his arms when she realized where we were and she started swimming frantically in the air, barking excitedly.

You couldn’t help but giggle as Dr. Choi sighed in defeat, setting the little hellion on the ground as she tried to mush her way through the people trying to go about their lives as she focused in on one target: MeongMeong Cafe.

The little cafe was on the ground floor, almost tucked away between the buildings, the light pastels and sepia tones a strong contrast to the grey buildings around it. The sun rise hadn’t quite yet turned this part of the city golden, the tones still a cool blue, just waiting to be woken by the spell of the sun. But that little cafe, with its little picket fence surrounding a small area of grass and it’s sepia shingles waiting for the sun to bring them to life, was already bustling to life inside. The cafe owner you presumed, was running about inside, setting up tables for the day and placing bread in the display cases. 

As you approached the cafe, through the window, you saw the cafe owner look up, a look of surprise graced his features before a gummy smile took over as he opened the front door to the three of you. “Youngjae-yah!! Coco-ssi!! Welcome back!”

Dr. Choi returned the warm greeting, letting go of hand for a moment to wave at him, leaving your hand almost unbearably cold. “Hello, Mark-hyung! How’s it’s going?”

Coco’s barks suddenly came more rapidly as she pulled Dr. Choi after her even harder as a small (but most definitely larger than Coco), white poodle looked around the corner of the door. The shop owner, Mark, muttered something as he looked down at the dog at his feet, prompting the dog to sit down at him feet, its little paws tapping in excitement as it sat there.

Mark shook his head with an exasperated sigh, smiling slightly as Coco continued to lead the charge towards the cafe. “You know how it is, Youngjae-yah. But that’s besides the point.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Who is this lovely lady?”

Your face flushed with heat and you couldn’t help but look down at your shoes. Youngjae — no, Dr. Choi — gently entangled his fingers within your own, giving your hand a very gentle squeeze in assurance. He introduced you to Mark. “She’s from out of town and I’m giving her the local’s tour of the city.”

Mark’s eyes crinkled in the corner as he shot you a smile. “Then welcome to MeongMeong Cafe.”

You muttered your thanks as Dr. Choi led you inside to a table in the corner.

Sitting down, you noted that the cafe was the same on the inside as it was on the outside with pastel and sepia colors furniture all over the place. Nothing was a matching set it seemed, almost like repurposed yard sale items, but all dog friendly. In the corner of the shop was a blackboard, the menu items scrawled across it in different colors with their prices trailing after it.

Mark wiped his hands on his apron before pulling out a notepad from his apron pocket, the poodle (while Dr. Choi affectionately greeted as ‘Mimi’) following him, seemingly waiting for a command. He shot Dr. Choi an almost pointed look. “The usual for you and the cottonball, I take it?”

Dr. Choi glanced sheepishly at you before turning his gaze back to Mark. “Yeah.”

Mark hummed his understanding and jotted it down then turned to you. “And for the lovely lady?”

Your insides clenched in anxiety? What did you want? You looked past the two of them at the chalkboard covered in what felt like hundreds of choices. Did you want something sweet? Savory? Salty? Sour? Did you like bitter? 500 years was a long time between meals.

Dr. Choi placed his hand over yours, grabbing your attention. “If you’re up for it, I suggest the mocha latte and the croissant of the day.”

Mark piped in, “Which is Eggs Benedict, by the way.”

You swallowed looking between the two of them. “Um, then I will go with that then.”

“Alright then. Come on, Milo.”

Mark smiled as he jotted down your orders on his little notepad before making his way back towards what you supposed was the kitchen, Milo hot on his heels. You turned your attention back to Dr. Choi and you found yourself shrinking in on yourself, blushing under the intensity of his gaze.

Is this what it was like to be human? Is this what Jaebeom felt like? To feel constantly overwhelmed?

“Since you mentioned that this was the first time in Seoul for you, where do you live?”

For a moment your reply caught in your throat. Nowhere, just a forest between life and death.

“Busan! Yes, it took quite a while to get here.”

Dr. Choi smiled. “Ahhh. An overnight train ride then. I love Busan: the architecture, the food!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that. He leaned back in his chair as he hummed. “And the people, so it seems.”

You knew that wasn’t true, but nonetheless, heat rose to your cheeks like an inferno. Youngjae — no, stop it — Dr. Choi asked, “Tell me about what you do for a living?”

Yeah… ‘living.’ Laughable.

Chewing on your bottom lip for a moment, you thought on how to answer it. “I’m in the family business.”

Dr. Choi sat forward, interest piqued as Mark returned with two coffees on adorable little plates, decorated with watercolor paw prints. “What does your family do?”

Before you could think better on it, you spat out, “Funerary services: cremations, burials, wakes, and the likes.”

Mark… poor Mark paused, his expression unreadable before he quietly excused himself. Dr. Choi on the other hand surprised you; he laughed. You stared at him, jaw slack and brow knit.

“I’m sorry…. I shouldn’t have laughed. I found it ironic. You give souls their final farewells while I welcome them into the world.”

Again, your heart gave a stuttering tap as a tsunami of emotion washed over you. How could he know the words you needed to hear? Or at least the ones that made you feel real at the very least. You took a sip of your coffee to try to distract yourself from the squall of emotion in your chest, only to hiss as you burn your tongue.

Dr. Choi is immediately at your side. “You ok?”

You touched the back of your hand to your mouth, looking away. “Yes, I was just being stupid.”

He laughed again and you couldn’t help but shoot him a pointed look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Just that, some times watching you do things is like watching a child discovering something new for the first time.” He smiled down at you sweetly. “I think it’s endearingly adorable.”

Your throat felt try and your face hot and your chest felt heavy. Adorable? You? You looked away from him, trying to appear as if his words didn’t do anything to you. As if your attention was taken up by something else on the far side of the shop. 

But out of the corner of your eye, as he raised his own cup of coffee to his lips, there was a twinkle of mischief and mirth in his eye. Taking a chance, you lifted your own cup to your lips, blowing on it before taking a tentative sip. Immediately you hummed in appreciation. It was delicious.

Mark came back over with another set of adorable plates, one was your croissant (looking absolutely delicious covered in Hollandaise sauce) and Dr. Choi’s waffle. From the pocket of his apron he produced some sort of gourmet dog chew setting it down on the ground for Coco to try to conquer. You thanked Mark, who gave you a gracious but overly exaggerated bow before he excused himself.

You turned back to Dr. Choi as you mentally went over a game plan on how to tackle your delicious looking (and smelling) food. “You said you welcome souls into the world. What do you mean by that?”

You knew what he did. Did it count as stalking if you’re not alive and they’re just a form of entertainment between reapings? But you had the forethought to be mindful of that. You didn’t want this illusion to burst by muttering something suspicious.

He hid a small laugh as he took a bite of his waffle. “You promise not to laugh?”

You mimicked the way he cut into his waffle, the same way with your croissant, albeit it didn’t go as smoothly as his. “Promise.”

He took a moment to chew, almost thoughtfully before he said, “I’m, uh, well… I’m an OB/GYN. I deliver babies.”

You smiled at him as he tried to hide his blush behind shoveling food into his mouth. Barely above a whisper, you replied, “I think it suits you perfectly.”

He shot you a brilliant smile, looking away from you as his cheeks began to glow a nice shade of pink.  As you sat there in the golden hours of the morning, you admired his features, realization dawned on you.

You were hopelessly in love with Youngjae.

Want more like this? Check out the following:

STAR-CROSSED, a science fiction series with Jackson Wang of GOT7

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[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Okay--I'd LOVE to hear how you came up with those astrological signs for the boys! Tell us, please! ^_^

AND I SHALL !!!

Something I like to do usually when creating characters - or simply trying to come up with a “fleshed out” personality for existing characters, is that I often go read astrological signs’ descriptions. Often those things are very cliché and don’t really make a lot of sense, but it is a good baseline for expanding on character development.

Leo

Capricorn (Dec.22 - Jan.19) (I personally HC that his birthday is in January)

“ Smart, hardworking, and fully in control of their destiny, a Capricorn will always get what they set their mind to, in both personal and professional life—no excuses. Capricorns may get a reputation as stubborn, but they simply know what they want, and also know how they wish other people would behave. Natural rule-followers, Capricorns thrive on order and love strict rules, hierarchies, and set ways to do things. Can a Capricorn think outside the box? Yes, they can, but they prefer when they have strict boundaries to constrain against—free reign can make them feel paralyzed by choice. “ (source)

“ Capricorn’s personality traits are derived from its receptive, feminine, or yin qualities, making this sign oriented toward contemplation and engagement with inner awareness. Alive in both a Capricorn woman or Capricorn man, those born with the Sea-Goat as their rising, sun, or moon sign have a discipline, masterful, and determined energy in the core of their personality; an echo of the resilience and resourcefulness needed to survive the cold season of their birth.As a cardinal sign, Capricorn holds the qualities of being an achiever, a builder, and a climber, able to set and conquer the loftiest goals one step at a time. Those born with the sign of the Sea-Goat prominent in their charts are great at being determined, consistent, and reliable. They often over-deliver on their promises and take their honor and public reputation very seriously. Ruled by Saturn, the primary Capricorn strengths can be found in their perseverance, longevity, and focused self-mastery. Coolheaded and down to earth, they have strong powers of discernment. They are often good Saturnian judges of character and can be approached for pragmatic advice and a fair verdict.Ruled by Saturn, the Sea-Goat does not shy away from commitment, but rather requires it of their friends, business partners, and lovers before they can fully trust. As a result, your Sea-Goat friend may be one of your most loyal allies, unless of course, you cross them in a business deal.Capricorns may not be seeking fame or glamour in the obvious sense, yet are known for their enduring beauty and classic elegance. Those born under the Sea-Goat are old souls who traditionally are understood to age in reverse. They usually begin life with the weight of the world on their shoulders that they gradually learn to let go of over the years. Humor is one of Capricorn’s most underrated strengths, which is an important source of their resiliency.Natives from this sign see the world with a pragmatic and sober eye, so have long ago made their peace with the shadows of mortality and human frailty. It is this shadow and frailty that they seek to laugh with, developing a dark, rueful humor to help them survive and endure. “ (source)

Raph

Cancer (Jun.21 - Jul.22) (Can we HC that his birthday is on July 4th x’D yes? Yes.)

“ Emotional, intuitive, and practically psychic; ruled by the moon and characterized by the crab, Cancer has so much going on in its watery depths. Cancers may seem prickly and standoffish at first meeting, once they make the decision to become friends with someone, that person has a friend for life. Most Cancers have been called psychic at some point, and with good reason—Cancer can often intuit relationships, ideas, and motivations before anyone has actually spoken. That can make for challenging interactions with this sign—Cancer hates small talk, especially when it contains white lies (like saying, "How nice to see you!" when it's clear that both parties would rather avoid each other). That's why social gatherings can be overwhelming for Cancers. They'd much rather spend time in small groups where everyone is on the same page. “ (source)

“Ruled by the moon, Cancer’s archetypal traits are derived from its receptive, feminine, or yin qualities, making this sign oriented toward contemplation, and engagement with inner awareness. Alive in both a Cancer woman or Cancer man, those born with the Crab as their rising, sun, or moon sign have a sensitive, intuitive, and protective awareness in the core of their personality; an echo of the life-supporting and sustaining energies of the Summer season.As a cardinal sign, Cancer takes leadership in the roles of being a nurturer, host, protector, and caretaker. Those born with the sign of the Crab prominent in their charts are focused on forming and maintaining family ties. They are naturally empathic, sentimental, and home-loving by nature. The primary Cancer strengths can be found in their kind, giving, and sympathetic natures. Always ready to host, and set a table, they can be counted on to feed and care for friends, family, and any weary traveler that stays in their home. With strong empathic powers and talents for healing, Cancer natives can sense what others need, often long before they have articulated it themselves.The famous sideways walk of the Crab can be observed in the cautious way a Cancer native enters a space or social gathering. They tend to come in quietly, carefully surveying their surroundings, before they open and reveal their whole selves. This protective instinct makes Cancerians good at reading the emotional tone in a room, helping them anticipate danger or crisis early. “ (source)

Donnie

Libra (Sep.23 - Oct.22) (I HC his birthday in October)

“ Intelligent, kind, and always willing to put others before themselves, Libras value harmony in all forms. Ruled by Venus, the planet of beauty, Libra adores a life that looks good. As the master of compromise and diplomacy, Libra is adept at seeing all points of view, and excels at crafting compromises and effecting mediation between others. This sign has a rich inner life yet loves other people, and they're always happiest with a large group of friends, family, and coworkers on whom they can count. An air sign, Libra can often be "up in the clouds," and while he or she is amazing at making big plans, follow through can be tricky. Working with detail-oriented signs, like Virgos or Capricorns, can help Libras actually manifest their dreams into reality, especially in the workspace. But don't call out Librans for daydreaming—their imagination is one of their biggest assets, and they often put their imagination to work by finding careers in the arts or in literature. “ (source)

“ Libra’s archetypal traits are derived from its active, masculine, or yang qualities, making this sign oriented toward engagement with the outer world. Alive in both a Libra woman or Libra man, those born with the planet of love as their rising, sun, or moon sign have an equanimous energy in their core personality. As a cardinal air sign, Libra holds the qualities of social initiation and leadership. This makes those with Libra prominent in their charts great at pioneering social projects and gatherings, and naturals at unifying their team, family, or community.Natives from this sign can be thought of as “the diplomats” of the zodiac, acting as active mediators and negotiators in any crisis or challenge. Being ruled by the planet of pleasure and attraction, Libra is usually quick to forgive and eager to smooth out differences so that everyone can get back to enjoying the finer aspects of life. Libra’s great strengths can be found in their ability to embody Venus’ loving, healing, and balancing traits. These folks will likely have the ability to put others first for the sake of everyone’s comfort and well-being. They are great communicators and listeners, fairly weighing all sides of an argument and another’s point of view. Libras are likely to not hold grudges, as it can take a lot to rouse and sustain their anger. Being very Venusian, they typically assume the best intentions in others and give most people many chances to redeem themselves.In addition to these folks’ great relational strengths, there are also their keen aesthetic sensibilities to consider. Not only will this make sun sign Librans very creative, it will make them attuned to the subtleties of atmosphere and harmonious environments. They are naturally curious about how the aesthetics of our adornments and surroundings can set the tone for our well-being and social interactions. Keeping the peace and maintaining poise, grace, and charm are strengths that can be relied on from these natives. “ (source)

Mikey

Pisces (Feb.19 - Mar.20) (I HC his birthday in March)

“ Smart, creative, and deeply intuitive, Pisces can be close to psychic. Pisces feel things deeply, and have incredibly strong gut reactions. A Pisces "knows" things from deep within, and can often judge whether a person or situation is good or bad. That doesn't mean a Pisces ignores the logical part of their brain, though. Deeply intelligent, Pisces have a profound respect for the power of the human mind. Is it a surprise that Albert Einstein was a Pisces? Pisces may seem quiet but they are incredibly strong and have a very strong sense of right and wrong. Their moral compass, along with their gut, guides them well. When a Pisces speaks up, people listen. Pisces tend to take in everything around them, and they are great people to ask for advice on pretty much anything. While Pisces has strong convictions about the best way for them to live, they have a "live and let live" approach when it comes to others, and are accepting and nonjudgmental of all. “ (source)

“ As a mutable sign, Pisces holds adaptive, fluid, and shape-shifting qualities. Those with the sign of the Two Fishes prominent in their charts are sensitive seekers who have the potential to bring a soulful, healing energy to their relationships and communities. The primary Pisces’ strengths can be found in their tender, sympathetic, and receptive natures. Naturally compassionate and empathic, Pisces are wired to offer spiritual and artistic gifts to the world. These are the poets, musicians, painters, and intuitive counselors in our communities.With Jupiter’s influence on the faith, belief, and sense of higher purpose, Pisceans can be counted on to offer help and healing support to anyone who is in need. These natives tend to drift through life on their schedule and follow an inner sense that life is unfolding as it should.Idealistic and imaginative, those born under the Two Fishes’ sign have an otherworldly quality to them and seem to retain a sense of innocence and wonder their whole lives. These natives often believe in the good of others and will likely give the benefit of the doubt. “ (source)

[leagueimagine]

Mordekaiser x very smol f/o.. It's for a friend

i’ll be the friend of this one, i love my man mordekaiser so much, one shot/drabble for this one as well

When you wake up, your eyes narrow a bit, it’s still dark, you considered for a few minutes as you toy with the blankets covering you, the heavy fluffy pelt has a gif from him to keep you warm… Oh yes, you remember now. 

Mordekaiser, has been the one keeping you here, on Mitna Rachnun, his realm, you wondered if you’re dead but with a deep laugh he’d answer you “you’re not my slave, tiny one”.You’re not sure if that brings you some comfort, but you’re at least happy you’re something more to him than that. You took a deep breath and then sit down, he had been busy, you never questioned with what even if you’re curious, you’re considering he’s tired of you. And that thought always makes you sad because, while you miss home and your family, you… loved him? Surely your heart is thinking this is so funny fall for him, but can you help it? Since you meet him, he hasn’t been rude or treats you badly, he gave you what you needed would always be there when you need, you can’t say you don’t like his hugs or when he tries to pet your head so carefully.

You push your face on the pelt and groaned loudly as you feel your face getting a bit warmer, that’s not the time for praising a death lord such as Mordekaiser, you remind yourself. 

As you’re finishing to get ready you can clearly listen to his voice calling you, the deep echoing voice always makes you shiver a little. “I’m going!” you reply softly, a bit curious why he’d come by himself if he had many and many spirits to serve him and do so when you opened the room door, you meet him holding at you a piece of fabric, enough to cover your eyes, it looks so small on his hand it almost makes you chuckle, but then you freeze for a moment. “Why that?” you asked picking it as he gesture to you do so. 

“Put it on.” That was the only order he gave you.

You’re not sure where you’re going, there is a nervous feeling growing at your stomach as you can only listen to your heartbeats and his heavy steps at the rocky ground, “Where are we going, Kaiser?” you questioned him, his hand on your back guiding you around the castle. 

“That’s a surprise, tiny one.” He almost hums, like he’s having fun with your nervousness. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“I do.” You replied after thinking for a little bit, you have no reason to don’t believe or trust him after all. With that, he chuckles, picking you up with such easy you quietly squeak, he soon sits you down on somewhere. 

“You can take it out.” And you did, you want to make it slow but the anxiety was speaking louder, you blink a few times, getting used to the sudden ‘light’, you look up at Mordekaiser slowly and titled your head, confused for a moment, then you look around. It was his throne room, you have seen it before a few times, you blink for a moment and look at your side, his throne beside you stood glorious in the room, but so does the one you’re sitting, even if it’s smaller, smaller but still way so big for someone your size, your head was not able to properly connect the dots as you look back at him, he looks very proud of his work. 

“What…?” You so slowly question him, just getting a warm laugh in reply. 

“Do you want to rule this realm with me?” He asked you, so simply like he’s asking what you’d like for breakfast, you just sit there even more confused as all the information sink on your mind.

“Rule… with you?” You touch the throne above you, the cold material brought some sense on your mind as your eyes widen. “that’s not funny, Kaiser!” You turn to him, a bit hurt.

“I’m not, tiny one.” He told you, touching your face, you can’t help but learn on it. “I want you by my side, as equal, forever.” You close your eyes, enjoying such gently and rare words from him, you’ve always admired him, you have no doubt you want to be with Kaiser, but at the same time…

“You’ll have to let me go home someti- no, when I want to go.” You told him, all serious in a moment, gripping at his wrist even if that doesn’t cover much of it, he grunted but nod with a chuckle. You gave him a few more moments in silence, you noticed when he hesitated just a little bit, you then smiled. “Of course I will.“

You’re sure Mordekaiser smiled because you feel yourself begin pulled to him, he sits you on his arm as he let you on his size, bumping his head against your, dead eyes that brought so much fear to many souls looking so loving and caring you feel your heart skip a beat. 

“You can go, but your home is here with me now.” He told you, as you hold his face and nod. “You’ll need a crown now, dearest.” 

[loyolahcmass]

Homily on Together by For King & Country

Here is the preview of Fr. Rossi’s homily about the song Together by For King & Country:

for King and Country’s “Together”

 “And if we fall, we will fall together

And when we rise, we will rise together,”

 “for KING & COUNTRY” have always sung catchy songs with lyrics that point to the love of God.

 They’re very talented, so they combine their faith message with sweeping melodies and infectious choruses that replay in your mind over and over. 

 There is nothing clichéd or false in anything this group does.

 They’re Christian believers—big time.

__________

 “It’s important as believers that others around us see light reflected in our lives: in our words, actions, behaviors, and even our thoughts. 

 “That’s what the Bible is all about, encouraging us to “burn the ships” of our past mistakes that we often align ourselves with. 

 “Don’t conform to the patterns of this world,” Jesus says. “That’s darkness. 

 “Our enemy seeks to destroy us with darkness. Instead, choose hope.”

__________

 One of the top Christian albums of 2018 was for KING & COUNTRY's album “Burn the Ships." 

 Luke and Joel Smallbone like to talk about their favorite song from that album: “Together.”

 “Our first attempt to write this song was about two years ago for our album “Burn”. 

 “Joel was in Los Angeles and we were writing the song together virtually. 

 “I was taking a drive with my kids to pick up dinner for the family and thought my phone was on mute. 

 And I said to my kids, “You’re in this life together. You’re going to outlive mom and dad, and like brothers, you need to figure out how to make it through together.”

__________

 “One of the guys we were writing with heard that exchange and said we should write a song about togetherness. 

 “We got it partly written and then abandoned the song. 

 “We picked it up again last year and found ourselves doing shows in Canada when the pandemic hit.

 “We were in Toronto for what we knew would be our last show for a while.

__________

 “They told us they were shutting down the tour. 

 “I walked off the stage and told Joel that I think there was a reason why we were supposed to release this song at this time. 

 “God’s providence was in the fact that this song is for today and it’s for the things we're going through not only as Americans but around the world. 

 “I’m grateful for God’s timing in releasing this song.

__________

 “One Bible verse in particular connects to the message of the song.

 “It’s from Matthew Chapter 11: 

 “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

__________

 “We’ve got a takeaway message from the song.

 “Together" means something specific.

 “The beauty of writing songs as an artist is if you stay in it long enough, you make yourself available to the creative process. 

 “And God will guide your steps. 

 “Up until we walked off that stage in Canada in March, we couldn’t have known what this song could mean for this season of Covid-19.

__________

 “This is for the busted heart

This is for the question marks

This is for the outcast soul

Lost control, no one knows.”

 “Layering on the physical isolation and now racial unrest, in a time where this virus is not isolated to one group of people or country or social class, this song has become the great equalizer. 

 “It's helping us all reconsider this beautiful concept that we all bleed the same blood.

 “And if we are able to unite and support--be a neighbor to someone, serve someone, reach out to someone--how might those acts of kindness change the scope of our futures, together? 

__________

 “This song has taken many shapes and forms. 

 “Today, the song represents the question of when everything is pushing against togetherness, what does it mean in the middle of that to aggressively choose togetherness? 

 “It means we ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters.”

__________

 “So often, even as Christians, we think by avoiding conflict and passively avoiding people in general means that we are following God's commands. 

 “However, we are called to actively love one another.

 “There is a lot of practical truth throughout “Together” about living out the "golden rule.”

_________

 “As we said earlier, we’ve been inspired by what God promises us in the Gospel of Matthew that His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. 

 “God comes and claims us in our darkest place. 

 “When we are in communion with God, it is joyful and not a burden. 

__________

 “God has not forgotten you. 

 “He is closer than you could ever imagine, He is still the same today as yesterday.

 “He’s still the same as he was before Covid-19 and as he will be after it.

__________

 “If you’ve put all your hope and trust in Jesus to save you from yourself, know it as fact. 

 "Together" sings about how we're commanded to love others by Jesus. 

 “This song challenges all of us to think about how well I am loving others. 

 As St. John says, "We love because He first loved us."

__________

 That what the song’s video is trying to say.

 It’s a socially distanced music video that featured listener-penned messages of struggle, strength and humor captured during self-isolation. 

 Roughly 2,000 fans submitted notes. 

 "I reunited with my family who loves me," one poster said. "God is good." 

 "My dad died from COVID-19," another wrote. 

__________

 The song/video is an amazing reminder of how we're called to be a light from Jesus for others, every day without complaining or arguing. 

 Following Christ isn't something that can be done halfheartedly or on the side for King and Country believes. 

 It is not a label we can display when it is useful. 

 It must be central to everything we do and are, especially in these days. 

__________

 As we listen to this great song by “for KING & COUNTRY,” think about how well you are loving others during Covid-19 and finals.

 And know that Jesus loves you. 

 Remember the lyrics:

 “Together we are bolder, braver, stronger.”

 “Amen” to that.

[jjba-arni-reblog]

Control

Alright, so this is inspired by a galaxy brain post of an amazing artist @metallicoxide

PLEASE let me know whatcha think. It was interesting to write for my favourite characters. ;-;

Summary: Pre-Vento Aureo events, Fugo just got his stand after Bruno saved him. However, learning about the newly acquired stand, Diavolo became interested in helping Fugo control it. Story follows chronological situations occurred within the unspecified period of time. 

+ Diavolo’s POV as well as his thoughts about the new member and his internal struggle to choose which gang group Fugo should be sent to.

Some of the elements might be changed to fit the story. Also I wrote 'costume' instead of a 'suit' idk why, Russian logic/ 

Words: 2.7K 

As the warm night surrounded Italy, a small light could be seen in a secluded mansion situated in the middle of nowhere.

Small lamp was the only source of light for the man currently organizing newly arrived documents and multiple reports. Everything needs to be read and checked over to ensure that everything is stable in the mafia word.

Diavolo eased his tie, sighing at stack of documents before him, his dark costume covering his tattooed body, exhausted after multiple hours of sitting and checking the reports. He let himself stretch a little, feeling his body suffer under the stress. But there was no time to waste. Diavolo grabbed another document, his eyes widening slightly.

‘New report from Bruno Buccellati’ the man thought to himself, looking at a lengthy document. He didn’t remember sending the man on a mission personally and as far as Diavolo knew, the business was calm and stable.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, Diavolo opened the document, noticing the usual gentle and tidy handwriting.

‘New member?’ his eyes widened a little. While in general there isn’t usually a necessity to introduce the new member directly, sometimes their newly gained powers require further investigating and analysis.

Stand user: Pannacotta Fugo

Stand name: Purple Haze.

Close-range stand. Contains a particularly deadly, flesh-eating virus in each of the three bulbs on each of its hands.

Anything that enters its range is infected, and an adult human being will melt into organic goo within 30 seconds

 ‘Interesting,’ Diavolo said to himself, continuing to read the file ‘this seems like one of the strongest stands I have ever read about, one could only imagine how powerful it is in action.’

Indiscriminately attacks friends and foes therefore making it almost uncontrollable in certain cases. The stand requires a lot of concentration and mental control.

‘This is new,’ Diavolo eyes scanned the words as if to confirm that he is reading it correctly. Checking the age of the new member, he couldn’t help but to feel just the tiniest tug in his heart.

‘Such stand…at a such young age. Stands should reflect one’s soul, personality’ anxious thoughts ran through his mind.

Diavolo felt the urge to meet the boy, to see his stand.

And maybe to help.

So, who are you, Pannacotta Fugo?

~~~

Diavolo became arranging the meeting the next morning, informing his most trusted man so those could deliver the precious information.

He wasn’t going to reveal himself, of course. Instead, it was decided that he would pretend to be a member of one of the other gangs, acting as a teacher who was going to analyse Fugo’s stand. No direct contact with the younger man.

Fugo was give the instructions to arrive to an abandoned building, yet he knew better than to trust it. Instead, after finding the right small opening, Pannacotta found himself in some sort of a secret base, training grounds if one might say so. It was a fully functioning hidden base with the variety of rooms.

Finding the right door, Pannacotta ended the big room, devoid of everything. Instead the only other noticeable thing in said room was a wide dark glass-window. No matter how hard Fugo tried to look past it, he saw no one, the glass completely sheltered whoever was there. If there was anyone, of course.

Fugo decided to be straight-forward, not finding the place pleasant, so he spoke out.

“Why am I being summoned here? Is this another mission that I am unaware of?” the young man spoke to no one yet hoping that someone was watching him, he needed answers.

“Pannacotta Fugo,” deep voice answered, filling the big room “it is not a mission,” the voice explained.

“Then why am I here?” Fugo asked, confused.

“To test the abilities of your stand” hearing the explanation made Fugo stiff a little. This was the last thing he wanted to do. To see his stand…

“Do not be afraid” Diavolo spoke as if feeling the worry in the younger man “think of me as your teacher today, your guide. My wish is to help you control your powers. Now, tell me about your stand,” he continued.

As the teenager stood in the empty room, Diavolo looked careful at Pannacotta. The boss sat just behind the large glass, sheltered from anyone’s eyes. His costume complimenting man’s muscular body, Diavolo help the document in his hand while the half-smoked cigarette was in another one. He sincerely hoped that Fugo would cooperate, it was a valuable stand after all.

“It is the manifestation of my worst side,” the teenager answered, a small annoyed growl leaving his lips.

“Even if so, it is your strongest side,” Diavolo argued, carefully eyeing Fugo through the window, noticing the growing anger in younger man’s features.

“It does more harm than good, I cannot even let out it normally,” Fugo continued “It’s uncontrollable and deadly to my possible gang members,” a note of sadness appeared in his snaky voice. Diavolo noticed it right away, noting that despite the man thinking of himself this low, the teenager was quite worried about the people around him.

“You will have to learn to control it,” the long-haired man stated, taking another drag of his cigarette, eyeing the document.

“I..I don’t think I can,” Fugo half-mumbled yet his statement could be perfectly heard in the quiet room “what if I will hurt someone… I wouldn’t bear the pain of hurting Buccellati.”

Oh, the one and only

Diavolo smirked a little. It wasn’t the first time he had heard such positive opinions regarding the mentioned man. Even though he wasn’t in the gang for too long, the dark-haired man quickly gained quite the popularity, known for his gentle and caring nature – as the report on Bruno Buccellati stated.

“You won’t,” Diavolo’s deep voice cut through the room, making the younger man’s eyes widen a little at the strong statement “you will learn to control it,” the voice continued “and I am here to help you.”

Seeing Pannacotta freeze for a moment, Diavolo thought that he perhaps said too much.

“Thank you,” Fugo’s soft voice answered, unsure of what to expect from the mysterious voice talking to him. He glanced at the dark glass, not trying to see the person behind it but to show that he was indeed, thankful.

“The pleasure is all mine” Diavolo answered, the tiniest of smiles present on his face. They were now almost looking at each other, if one might call it so.

Pannacotta Fugo is indeed, an interesting new member

He then continued.

“This man, Bruno Buccelatti, does he take good care of you?”  Fugo was taken back by the unexpected question, yet quickly reassuring himself that the gang must be just checking on his leader.

“Yes”

“Good, we expect only the best from the people in the organization,” Diavolo concluded, his posture easing up just a little.

“Can I ask you something?” Fugo said, unsure if he would get an answer back.

“Try it” the hidden boss chuckled a little.

“Will you reveal yourself to me…sir?” Fugo asked, uncertain of how to refer to the person talking to him.

“Sir is just fine. Regarding my presence, I afraid not but I need you to trust me,” his serious voice carried through the room “It is not a trap of any sorts. No one else is here except for us, so there won’t be a possibility of anyone being hurt,” a small notion of reassurance was present in Diavolo’s voice. He needed to make Fugo feel comfortable around him.

~~~

‘What a fine work, a murder full of pain and anger’ Diavolo thought to himself, noting the precise, merciless actions of the teenager. Yet something was off. Something was unsaid. Not documented.

‘Pannacota Fugo doesn’t seem like a person to just lash out like that. He might have issues, but he is definitely not stupid, far from that’ the boss concluded, turning towards the table.

What was it about the teacher that set him off?

Diavolo looked over the neatly arranged documents that were delivered to him just a day ago. Those didn’t contain any general information, instead he made sure to dig up everything on the teacher and the incident. Something was wrong. Pannacotta Fugo wouldn’t have killed to man just for the sake of it nor would he snap this easily.

Great father. People’s opinions are always biased.

A long history of teaching. Yet he drove the younger man to a such state…what did he do?

Excellent research works. Nothing interesting.

Fascination with young boys.

 Finally. A true reason for the merciless actions of Pannacota Fugo.

What a shame. Diavolo crumbled the paper, throwing it away, just where the trash belongs.

Another scum of the Earth

He should be thankful he met Fugo before the teenager acquired his stand

 ~~~

“Show me your stand, Pannacota Fugo,” Diavolo half-commanded yet without the anger in his voice.

“It’s dangerous and I might hurt you”

“I am not directly there, am I?” Diavolo argued a little

“I suppose so but…” Fugo fidgeted with his hands, anxiety filling his thoughts. What if…

Yet before he could continue, the voice cut him off

“I am not here to mock you,” came the reassuring tone “let your stand out. I will be here if something were to happen.”

And so Fugo did.

Purple Haze manifested, confused at its own appearance. It was rare that his stand user let him out. Almost never.

Fugo felt himself getting worried as the stand started to walk confused, mumble something to itself and growling. As if feeling the teenager getting anxious, Diavolo spoke out.

“Keep calm, there is no one here to be hurt,” the boss reminded Fugo “try concentrating on your stand and its position, abilities. Don’t let it control you, Pannacota Fugo” his voice spoke through the room.

Purple Haze started to lay punches on the wall, half-screaming half-whining confusedly.

“It’s uncontrollable” Fugo was eager to make his stand disappear. He wanted to turn away, to not see this monster. To not see himself.

“Don’t let him overwhelm you, control your breathing, Pannacota Fugo. Contrate on stopping him, make him think rationally, make him behave,” Diavolo stood up behind the dark window, eyeing the two figures. He let his voice carry Fugo through the experience, easing the teenager. His generous hints at how to maintain calm made Fugo visibly less stiff. He fially started to concentrate.

After some time, the stands pushes became slower, his breathing slowing down as Fugo tried his best to control Purple Haze.

Eventually, the stand stopped punching, instead it simple stood, eyeing the room, not quite sure what to do.

That is, until it saw its own drool falling on his hands, making Purple Haze anxious over the now dirty hands. It was

“What a spectacular stand,” Diavolo commented.

“No, I don’t believe it is,” Fugo sighed, looking annoyingly at his stand. Why did it have to show its other side to Fugo’ teacher? Having the stand worry over its hygiene was not what Fugo wanted to present to the man behind the glass

“Whatever you believe, it is still a reflect of your soul. And even if it is uncontrollable at the moment, you will learn to communicate with it. And I believe you have the ability to do so,” Diavolo explained.

Fugo smiled for the first time since gaining his stand.

~~~

Another day, another training.

Fugo felt himself getting angry. What if there won’t be any results? The stand still didn’t fully listen to him, often aggressively denied the commands of its stand user.

“When? When will I even achieve in controlling him? I don’t want to accidentally kill anyone. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe I am still as useless as…” he was cut off.

“Look back, Fugo” the voice ordered. What Fugo couldn’t see was the small smirk on his teacher’s face.

Fugo turned around.

Purple Haze stood, completely calm, devoid of the uncontrollable anger. Breathing even, movements calculated.

“You did it, congratulations,” the silky voice said.

“I…” Fugo was lost for words, looking back at the glass.

“I am proud of you, Pannacota Fugo.”

“I don’t know what to say” Fugo was looking at the ground, slightly flustered over the generous comment. People weren’t to eager to say nice words to him…

“There is nothing to say, lift your head high and move forward,” Diavolo answered, a small smile present on his face.

~~~

“Do you have any questions for me? In regards of your stand perhaps?” Diavolo asked one day, getting comfortable behind the large dark window. Fugo was sitting on the chair, now a little bit closer to the glass as the comfortable atmosphere filled the room. It was unusual for the two of them to not live in a constant state of anxiety

“Can I ask about my missions?” Fugo asked.

“Go ahead”

“What do I do after defeating the enemy?”

“Well, you don’t have to get rid of the body if your stand will do its work but if something, you will have contacts for the right people to call,” the boss explained “sometimes you will have to hide the body before anyone can see.”

Fugo simply noted, taking in the explanation. Diavolo then continued

“If controlled, your stand could be user for interrogation or even torture” he commented, seeing the younger man’s eyes widen slightly.

“Torture? What is there for me to do if my stand will do all the work?” Fugo raised his eyebrow. There won’t be anything left of an enemy if he was to truly unleash Purple Haze

“You decide for yourself. Laugh, mock the enemy, dance for all we know” Diavolo smirked a little as the teenager raised his eyebrow at the last part. He then continued in a more serious tone “you need to maintain control over your stand, that is your main priority.”

“I will” for once, Fugo’s voice was filled with certainty and Diavolo couldn’t help but to feel proud.

~~~

He is learning and improving with each our meeting. Fugo is becoming stronger…

Yet I don’t want to risk it

All this tremendous work we did can be wiped out if the wrong gang group would be chosen.

La Squadra

A rather infamous gang, usually dealing with the lowest tasks such as assassination, torture and obtaining information. Looking at the squad members...

La Squadra….it might fit him. Their stand variety is quite impressive. And together with newly manifested power of Pannacotta Fugo, multiple combination could be made to improve the work of the gang.

Illuso could trap a person withing his mirror world and will be left to do if for Fugo to let out his stand. It sounds almost too good,

Risotto is a compelling leader, so that anger could be controlled within the group. He is stoic and confident in his abilities. And the gang already has a person with anger issues…

Pesci could easily bring the enemy into Purple haze’s deadly area.

Prosciutto, painful yet quick death, old people are too easy to take out. A perfect trap.

Formaggio, make the enemy smaller, making the area of the virus appear even wider for the enemy.

All the ideas made Diavolo smile a little as he combined the stands’ abilities. Pannacotta Fugo could be useful. He could become stronger, more aware of his own stand. He could be so much more.

~~~

Yet a small voice told him that it won’t work. Pannacotta Fugo is a strong user, but he is definitely not merciless. He might follow the orders but deep inside he will have to fight himself in order to succeed. La Squadra isn’t the place for him. He still needs to grow, he needs someone…

Eyeing the same report that arrived to his mansion the first time he heard about the younger man, Diavolo glanced over the document once again…

Bruno Buccellati

‘He seemed to have taken a liking to Fugo. He was even considering taking the younger man into his gang…well, a first member to his gang’ Diavolo smirked a little, a new small gang. How cute.

Maybe I should give them a chance.

As Diavolo thought about his decision, he couldn’t help but to compare those two.

They seem alike, having to kill at a such young age…

‘Interesting pair to say the least’ the boss concluded, realizing that he already made the decision.

A deep sigh left his lift as Diavolo signed the document. A new gang will be formed. Consisting of two people at the moment.

Maybe for now, I’ll let you decide your own fate.

With a heavy heart, I’ll have to say goodbye.

Until we meet again.

Pannacotta Fugo