#so now they have to make an effort to be civil for his sake

[dccomicsbookshelf]

Damian Wayne has three parents; a Mother, a Father, and a Grayson.

He does not get what is so difficult to understand there and yet the one time he tried to explain it at school he just got more weird looks.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi I was the one who requested the Furina-like reader and i wanted to clear up that:

Alastor and Vox are still archenemies they just have something new to fight over (basically just like petty divorced exes fighting over custody)

Since I just realized that sinners can't have kids in hell i'll make that reader was a teenager who died young

Also I'm so sorry my req was alot for you I tend to get away with asks sometimes 😭

Haha! All good, hun! Tbh. I really do like this idea. They are like petty divorced exes most of the time and now, they’ll be petty divorced exes that love their precious daughter so much, that they won’t let one another become the favourite parent and actively sabotage. I only chose female since Furina’s female. Hope that’s okay!

Alastor and Vox- Climbing the Ladder

The Overlord of Technology and the Overlord of Radio are genuine archenemies, rivals, they cannot stand one another and their mutual hatred even extends to their personal relationships… but when their love becomes targeted on the same person, this situation gets all the more dangerous

You, a cute hydro-sea animal-styled young teenage sinner, didn’t just catch the fatherly love of just Alastor but of Vox as well… somehow and now. They begin fighting on sight and arguing and berating one another nonstop to try knock each other down so you don’t like one over the other

Yes. Alastor and Vox openly tug on you and argue loudly but eventually, Charlie makes them agree on a… ‘co-parenting’ deal. Alastor has you in the Hotel one week then Vox has you in the Vees Tower the next week. They are basically like fathers with joint custody and they hate it

Because they hate each other far too much to be civil and everytime they have to meet up to share you. Both are holding back the desire to murder each other. Otherwise, the tension inbetween them is so thick, you can cut it with a butcher knife

Both of them are the type of surrogate father to shower and pamper their daughter so she’ll like them over the other. Vox showers you in gifts and gives you specific technological devices so he can keep his eyes on you, whilst Alastor showers you in affection and keeps your attention on him with all his cool tricks and nicknacks

Alastor tries to make you dislike technology but Vox tries to make you rely on technology, and their contrasting efforts to have you love them like your one true father makes their already tense relationship even worse

Both Alastor and Vox can recognise your love for the theatre so Alastor uses his own theatre speciality to teach you to dance and sing and perform whilst Vox arranges a whole drama class for you to learn from the professionals. They both attend any drama performances you happen to atten. Vox is recording it to treasure as Alastor can’t take his eyes off his precious babygirl

Will these two ever not fight with each other? The only time they willingly get along is when you’re ever being threatened or being harassed or being bullied. Then, they shove aside their differences and their deep disdain for each other to protect you

Alastor and Vox do not like the whole ‘co-parenting arrangement’ they agreed on. They don’t want to share you at all, they both want you as their own surrogate daughter. Vox is pissed since he is worried he may seem like the lesser father and Alastor is annoyed that some flat-faced freak is trying to take his daughter away from him

Your kind, laid-back, down-to-earth, chill girl demeanour is kinda hard to get around for both Overlords. Alastor is dapper, sophisticated whilst Vox is a bit prickly and arrogant. Neither are good with handling you yet both are equally supportive and listen to you

Alastor and Vox are both equally protective over you. You’re so selfless and self-sacrificing towards your friends that you’re willing to jump into danger for their sake. Luckily, you have two very powerful Overlords as backup. Both willing to tear apart your enemies to make sure you’re safe

Your dads, Alastor and Vox are both working to shake out your very assuming and judgmental mannerisms. Those are unfitting for a lady like you. Alastor teaches you to be a prim proper classy lady and Vox teaches you to be a ‘bad bitch of high class’

At the end of the day, both of them love like you are their biological daughter so they’ll always consider you as and they’ll do anything for you, even try their best to get along and tolerate one another. If it means you’ll be happy and you’ll get to stay in their afterlives, that’s all that really matters here

“My dear. As much as I love you, this flamboyance and imprudence is below you. You’re a beautiful lady of the highest class, you must show that. Come with me now. May we go to the mall together, a day out to work on yourself, princess”

“Leitora, I get it! The bravado and dramatic flare is definitely unique but I wish for you to drop now. You’re becoming bratty and no daughter of mine is a diva, I’ll show you what I mean. Let’s go for a walk around the tower, honeypot”

[billskeis]

ᡣ𐭩 sharing a bed w bill

it was quite an evening you were having. you and the guys decided to have a little get together, the five of you were laughing, drinking, and just overall doing stupid shit teenagers would do.

you haven’t spoken to bill at all tonight.

you’re not quite sure why it’s like this. you got along with everyone, especially tom. so why wasn’t it the same case with his brother? at this point you thought he hated you. whenever you came over, he didn’t really acknowledge you, nor made the effort to even have a conversation: let alone say hi.

one could ask, why didn’t you make the effort?

that’s because you did. you did, on multiple occasions, and it was either always a shrug, a nod, or one worded answers. “he definitely doesn’t like you, not even as a friend.” you decided at this point to be content with it. it feels as though despite the obvious gap and disconnect between the two of you, bill and you remained civil for the sake of keeping the whole group together.

it also didn’t help that you had a little crush on bill.

but he’s basically proven with his actions he’s wanted nothing to do with you. cross out all possibilities that bill will ever like you back..

downing another shot, tom screams at the burning feeling down his throat. “WHOOO! i could definitely go for another, dare, truth, or not,” you however, could not take anymore shots. being the idiot you were you decided to occasionally pour yourself some without even playing the game. you knew that this will be a long night being within the proximity of bill so the alcohol was much needed. but now, even one whiff or drop of alcohol will have you puke.

“y/n, truth or dare?” georg asks, he almost slurs on his words, obviously tipsy, and gustav is already blacked out on the couch sleeping peacefully. “mm, i’ll do a dare.” both georg and tom made eye contact with one another and grin, tom then whispers something in georg’s ear and georg snickers, tom following.

what they had in store for you, you would’ve never expected.

“i dare you to share a bed with bill tonight.��

what? say what now? did you hear that correctly?

your jaw most likely and probably did reach the floor, even though you were so close to it. because why would they even declare a dare like that? especially tom? it’s not like you could even step out of the dare, because if you did. you would have to take another shot, and you were NOT trying to throw up tonight. so you just had to suck it up.

you may ask, what did the other guy’s think of this? you had once talked to tom about your concerns and he just brushed it off, saying some bullshit like “that’s just bill, it’s nothing personal.” did he do this to purposefully fuck you over?

oh, but it felt oh so personal.

bill didn’t speak, although you could tell that he was a little displeased by this dare. his eyes went wider for a second to then quickly return to his nonchalant face. did he really hate you that much? you twiddled your thumbs not knowing the words to put in your mouth.

tom and georg were just giggling. those fuckers. unfortunately for you, you’re so drunk that any doing anything requiring physical strength is impossible. you’ll deal with them tomorrow morning. “is.. is that okay with you bill..?” you ask, bill just heavily sighs and walks away from the living room. assumingely this gives you the okay and you follow behind after him.

“goodnight y/n! have fun!” georg and tom chant while waving you out of the room teasingly. shit, did they know you like bill? did you make it that obvious? you look behind them and look at the stupid looks on their faces, sticking up a middle finger at them as they laugh a little harder.

this is going to be a loooong night.

“sleep on that side.” bill tells you, he attempts to sound stern but his voice is softer than from what you usually hear. which is like, once in a blue moon. his makeup is all cleaned off and he’s in his pyjamas. you couldn’t help but stare at his side profile as he fixes the bed up before letting the two of you get in.

you nod at him, slipping into the bed and under the sheets. he turns off the lamp and does the same as you. you feel the bed dip with his weight added to it, as he adjusts himself to get ready to sleep. your bodies are facing opposite ways, clearly wanting nothing to do with one another. but how true is that?

“goodnight,” you say, no answer.

wow, he can’t even say goodnight back? you feel so disheartened by this. the constant attempts to get to know him, make conversations with him, all for nothing. it feels as if he’s completely shut you out by building a wall between the two of you, even though so close together. why couldn’t he just want to be together with you like you wanted with him?

you decided to just close your eyes and try to sleep the night off. as soon as it’s morning, you’d leave the room to let bill be. there’s no point in good-mornings if all he’s going to do is ignore you.

a pair of arms begin to wrap around your body, pulling you closer to theirs. is that.. bill..? is he drunk..? no, he had no shots tonight. he wasn’t even participating in the game. this couldn’t be him behind you. it must be a stranger. wait, that’s even worse..

your body is frozen. you don’t know what to do. in the dim light, you look down to the pair of hands that hold you so closely together.

black nail polish. with white french tip.

you begin to feel your face heat up. what the hell is he doing? you’re so confused. head and thoughts conflictingly filled with the thoughts of how the boy who hated you the most is cuddling with you at this very moment.

“i don’t hate you.”

tense. your body tenses at his words. should you reply? oh god, what the hell do i do? the alcohol is making your brain all fuzzy and you just can’t seem to come up with anything to say, being completely silent and motionless. however, the way you’re breathing indicates to him you’re awake.

“i’m sorry, i just don’t know—how to talk to girls… it’s quite embarrassing. i want to get closer. i want us to be.. together.”

it feels as though a thousand weights have been lifted off your chest, your body relaxes within his touch. noting this, bill continues to speak and you hear him out. not like you can say much anyway, you’re shocked, stunned, flabbergasted and quite bashful right now.

he actually wants to get to know you.

“i hope i can make it up to you with this, sorry if you’re uncomfortable. i can let go if you wa—“ you immediately shake your head no. he quietly laughs at this. bill then lets his chin rest on your head while the two of you lay on your side.

he’s so tall his body engulfs you, making you feel safe. safe in a space that once has you so awkward it felt as though whenever you were with him it was like walking on eggshells.

intertwining your hands together, he runs his thumb back and forth across the surface of your own hand caressing it. it soothes you. his hand is soft and warm along with his whole body.

“comfortable?” you nod and giggle at him.

the whole reason why bill “disliked” you was because he lacked experience. reflecting back on it, bill has never really done anything to show that he hated you. he just ignored you or ran away. it’s quite cute.

you begin to feel yourself drift into sleep. it’s so cozy here you never want this moment to end.

bill kisses the top of your head, “goodnight.”

“see man? i told you this was a good idea. i can’t believe for a second you doubted me,” tom smacks georg on the chest gently while georg is taking pictures on his digital camera.

“i am, NEVER, letting them live this down..” georg says as he continues to flash his camera pic after pic. tom runs to the side of the bed bill is sleeping on, posing at the edge of the bed so he can get in one of the pictures.

you and bill were cuddling closely. you switch from your spooning position to you with your head on top of bill’s chest, his arm wrapped around you waist. completely oblivious to this as the two of you were sound asleep.

gustav then walks past the room to use the restroom. he then stops to see the buffoonery that was going on in the room. watching as georg and tom were fucking around whilst you and bill were sleeping. he notes that the two of you were indeed hugging while sleeping. still drunk, he thinks while scratching his head,

“they must be really good friends now.”

[lvlyghost]

Half My Soul: II

PAIRINGS: John Price x F!Reader

SUMMARY: The morning after John takes you home.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

TW: smut, suggestive themes. john is the man we all deserve! descriptions of injuries. reader gets a tiny bit of background. mentions of abuse. comfort, fluff. think that's it. lmk if i missed any. mind the english!

A/N: i'm so very sorry for how long i made you wait! here's the final part. maybe i wasn't dealing with lack of inspiration it would've been longer, i even had planned another situation for this fic but oh well. i may turn it into a separate drabble. enjoy💕💫

Masterlist✨Part 1

John looks up from his phone when you walk in, he was about to take a sip from his tea mug. You're wearing one of his shirts that's nearly too big for your body. He likes it when you wear his clothes, not that he'd say it out loud. Not that it was the first time he had seen you wearing his shirts; the black hoodie he had insisted you could keep now ruined because of the blood and the lower part of the fabric that had been torn apart.

He clears his throat. Setting both the mug and mobile down.

"Sleep well?" He asks.

You hum in response.

"Too early to be awake if you ask me." John chuckles when you roll your eyes feigning annoyance.

He was far too good to you. Too good for your own sake. You didn't want to think of how inappropriate it was that you were at his apartment, wearing his clothes. Sleeping on his bed. It also didn't help that he was wearing just a pair of black sweatpants. This thing between the two of you whatever it was... made your stomach flutter and your heart warm when he looked at you the way he was right about now.

"There's coffee for you." He declares. "Know you don't fancy tea. A terrible mistake, may I add." There's a playful grin on his lips when you laugh. "How's your body?" His voice drops a few degrees. You know he's trying to be nonchalant about it but you know him. You know he's worried. Know that he hates the man who hurt you with all his being.

What you don't know is what he did as soon as he woke up. It took one more glance to your face and body. One glance to the bruises and scratches and he was climbing on his pickup truck. John knew the address. He had intended to have a civilized conversation with your father; after all you didn't want him to get hurt, despite him making your life a living hell. One thing led to another. A heated argument. Shouting and swearing. He couldn't let that monster speak about you the way he did. A staring contest. Hands pushing the other. And then there where punches being thrown. He didn't care if he was a former ranger back in the states. There was no real pride in what he did. Fuck him. He was glad he got discharged from the military. He gave soldiers a bad name. He was a blemish in everything they stood for.

"My eye's not swollen anymore. That steak really came in handy." You joke remembering the night before, when you both got to his home. And John wants to laugh, he's aware you're trying to joke about it. To brush it off like it meant nothing. Why were you such a beautiful person? No one deserved you. "Really John? The mug's on the top shelf!" You sigh, standing on your tiptoes stretching as much as you can but only had managed to graze the cabinet door to open it.

John snorts at the sight of you trying to reach it, so he stands from the stool and gently pats your shoulder, giving you a soft squeeze as he reaches out for it without effort and placing it in your hand.

"You made it look like it was hard, love. Was starting to think if I could do it myself."

You hit his arm in a playful manner making him chuckle.

"Thank you John." You murmur. He staring down at you intently. Like there was nothing else in the world to him.

"It's just a..."

"I mean for everything." You interrupt him. At first you hesitate but end up grazing his fingers until you take his hand in yours. It's warm and bigger than yours, it swallows your own entirely. Both of you stop breathing when the silence settles. Outside the sky is cloudy, rain threatening to pour down anytime soon.

"Lovely." He mutters.

"What?"

"You, love. Just you."

Something shifts in the air after those words. John and you... had been holding back each other's feelings. You more than him. He wasn't fighting them anymore and neither were you. Who were you lying to?

Just yourself. The man cared for you like no one else did. He pours some coffee in your cup with his eyes set on you all the time, even when you take a sip and place it back on the kitchen counter. "Want me to check your wounds?" He asks, but you're not listening anymore. You're lost in the deep sea that his eyes are. In the way he cleaned up your wounds yesterday. Something you had done to him many, many times before. Lost in the moment when he saw your deteriorating state last night, the anger that sparked in his blue eyes. You inhale deeply, the smell of his cologne and cigars.

John shifts his weight from one foot to another. You were staring in silence. He wonders if you're regretting accepting his invitation to his home. God knows that if you decided to leave that would be the end of him.

Why were you so silent all of the sudden? Had he made a mistake?

Bloody hell.

"No need for that John. I just need you."

And you grab him by the back of his neck pulling him down for a gentle kiss. His strong arms wrap around your waist pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed together. His lips are soft and mouth warm, you wish you could do more... maybe you can.

"Y'know how long I've waited for this?" He asks, voice raspy. A small kiss on your nose. His eyes are bright and adoringly watching you. "If I could stay like this forever..."

He kisses you again and lifts you up so your legs immediately wrap around his waist. John handles your body with so much care it makes your heart flutter, he avoids touching where the bruises are more prominent on your abdomen as he walks barefooted to the living room.

John lays both of you slowly onto the couch so that you're straddling his lap and he gives you the most gentle squeeze on your hip while his other hand tuck back a strand of hair behind your ear. It's a silent ask. A silent plea.

Do I have you permission? Can I make you mine?

And you nod. You kiss him again. Hard and hungrily. Biting down his lips. You too have waited for this. All the pent up desire that's been building over months. The longing stares, the casual touches. It's all led to this very moment where your—his— shirt get tossed to the floor, his pants don't make it all the way down and your underwear is merely pushed aside. The embarrassing amount of slick that coats your folds when John slides his fingers up and down your cunt making you gasp. His hands already making wonders that your own could never. Or the sight of his sheer size; he's big, you wonder if he'll even fit all the way, so he prepares you. Fingers slip in and out, limbs trembling as he works you through your climax and orgasm. Makes you forget about everything, about not being cared for before about all the pain that was your life before he showed up with his acts of service and unyielding protection. No one ever truly cared for you the way John did. No man could ever come close to him.

"John..." you moan his name, lips parted. "Please."

He wastes no time and he's finally sliding inside you. Blue eyes never leaving yours. And he's fucked. He has been for a long time, the moment he saw you. The first time you smiled at him.

His body shudders at the sensation of you swallowing him whole, not being able to think of anything else than being consumed by the woman on top of him. He wants you not just for today but for eternity. Another heated kiss when you're both nearing the end. A muttered promise to love you, a lone tear and soft graze of his hands as you come undone.

Falling apart together, deep breaths and mumbles of soft nothings into each other's arms. You trace his lips as he tries to even his ragged breathing. The faintest sheen of sweat that pearls his body.

"This isn't so bad."

John smirks.

"Not at all, love. Not at all."

[thebottomfromhell]

In a scenario where the reader is a hashira, what do you think would happen to him if his relationship with a demon was discovered. I know you wrote something along those lines where the reader was someone ordinary. The Hashiras, in the original work, are mostly nice, but they are very strict-minded about demons, so I wonder what their reaction would be if one of their own basically "betrayed" them. If you think it's going to be very similar, you can just ignore it or just say what you think would happen, without it necessarily being a story. I would appreciate it just the same

The Hashira request I like, the one where we treat them as the corporation of hunters they are instead of the avengers! I usually don't like making reader a Hashira, since I like to make it relatable to most, and let's be honest, the power fantasy is nice but most wouldn't live past Kanoe XD. Besides, it's funnier to make powerless MC's who need constant saving. But once or twice can't hurt.

The Hashira will refer to reader as L/N, as Last Name. Like last time it won't specify gender nor who's Uppermoon reader is with. One difference would be that as a civilian, last time reader only knew about the corps due being warned by their couple, hence only saw them as a bounch of psychos, here they will be more aware of certain things.

Hashira find out Hashira!GN Reader has a relationship with an Upper Moon

Warnings: Manga spoilers, Torture (Mostly non-physical, and the ones ññ, Excesive violence, Mutilation, Mentioned non-consented drug use, Mention of character's death, Implied sexual content, Suicidal character with survival guilt (Giyuu) and Open ending.

You became a Hashira to save others, you were told sometimes you were someone that loves too much, even for this line of work, specially for this line of work. In your ranking, most of everyone is civil to each other (depending on your definition of civil), but there is at least a level of trust. But not the tradiotional trust of sharing your burdens or being able to do things together, every Hashira prefers to work without the others, but trust that everyone else will do their job and kill every demon they meet or die trying.

That is exactly the trust you broke, so everyone is angry, upset and thirsty for blood. Most Hashira think positive things about each other, you also had only good things to say when asked, but now? After all that conversations you had with your lover about the inferiority of humanity, that they are pests, barbaric, backstabbers, a necessary evil... you have to wonder. After they caged you without any warning or mercy, sending Kocho and Shinazugawa for you, ending up beated and drugged.... you wonder. You just wonder.

Is it actually right?

The fellow Hashira could have at least confronted you out of the sake of the this fellowship, you could recieve visits from someone that isn't Kocho, drugging you for the sake of being easier to handle for the kakushi. And not only she drugs you, she always makes sure to remind you of your situation. To shame you, to taunt you, to hurt you. "Ara ara, aren't you eager to move? This is the second time I have to drug you today. You should really give a slack to the kakushi, they are just trying to do their job. But again, considering what you did, I must really question if you care about the efforts of the people in the corps." She says smiling, even if your blurred vision doesn't let you see it clearly, you can tell by her tone. Shinobu spits poison so cafefully with every word. Because she hates you. "You know? A mere civilian or commoner would have a an excuse. The don't know the level of sacrifice we have made, the pain the demons have caused. You? You did. And you had one job, the same as us. To stop that pain or die trying, you should have done the later."

You know about Kanae. You were never told about the demon who killed her nor the details, but it's almost (Tokito...) impossible to be a Hashira and NOT know about her death on the hands of demons. You knew, know that most Hashira have lost something to demons, and yet you decided to get close to one. Close enough to become lovers. But... it was right, at the time. The gentle touches, the vulnerable moments, the softness. The beatings inside your chest, the warmness in your face, that lightness in that voice... you are in love. And that Uppermoon is too, or else you would be dead, like everyone seems to wish you were, already.

You have too much free time in your thoughts, since you are tied up in a way you can't move any of your limbs and struggling cut's your circulation, kept in a dark room, when light and noise only appear when the Kakushi are told to feed you, once a day at most. You have no idea if they were told to do it that way or they are only scared to face a "renegade Hashira" or whatever they call you when you can't hear them. Your body is sore, it has been for the longest time, and you feel constantly sick due Kocho's drugs. Dizzy, tired, too hot, wanting to throw out when anything touches your throat, and even after hours the needles stings remains in wherever she managed to shot you. You also never healed your leg when fighting Shinazugawa, at lealt not properly. You can still feel empty tissues and the bone in your thigh stabbing the flesh, with smaller piece stuck. Your nose is also broken, making you need to breath through the mouth. The only thing Kocho actually tended was a cut through your hand, so you don't die from the blood loss.

You still remember grabbing the tilt of your sword to protect yourself, only to have all of the digits cut out of the hand, keeping in each different fractions, but all of the without the tips. At first there was a fast and intense sting, similar to a burning senssation as your katana started to fall from your grip, then, for a second, a coldness that was at worst, annoying, some sort of emptyness. Finally, when the realization sink there was pain in your pulsating fingers, mixing a lasting feeling of both previous ones, fighting to be the dominant one. You still can feel, on a lesser extent, all the time, those sensations.

It takes a lot for you to not go mad with the lack of contact with everything, and that sensation of being ill. Part of you wonders if your beloved will save you, if any other Hashira will speak to at least let you defend yourself in vain. Every day it becomes less of a reality, which adds resentment. Part of you tells you that you were the one to betray them first, another that longs that sweet voice and touches angers, wanting nothing to get out, to go somewhere safe, with the demon you love. "My sister and my best friend were killed by demons..." One day you suddenly feel a voice besides you... Tomioka. He is giving you his back, speaking only high enough so you can make up what he is saying. "So I really hate them... how... how were you able to love such a monster, knowing well what others suffered because of them?"

You don't know the answer, you can't even speak coherently due the drugs on your system. That is a question you asked yourself so much, thinking that if you didn't fall like that, you wouldn't be in this situation... but... "Sp-cil.... hom.... looovd...." you wonder if the silence means resignation or understanding, but you are glad to have someone close. "You will not be forgiven... there is someone that might, but... he is not here right now, and seeing the situation is probably for the best. I'm sorry." You... honestly can't understand it. That is why you curse Tomioka after he leaves, even if he was the only one willing to listen to you. That feeling only gets worse when you realize he is not in your "trial", he didn't go. The others, as always were neither fast to condemn him or dismiss him because of it, but besides some of them changing the subject, nobody came to his defense. Like you have already realized nobody is comming for yours.

You don't listen when Oyakata-sama speaks, is your attention lacking or he is just talking too low due being sick? None the less you just watch the others. Tokito is there, you want to trash out, but are still drugged and tied up, at the fact the child is here. That is child is going to see you being excecuted... but does it make a difference, this child has killed even more powerful demons than you, and you has never seem to care. Is it really that different to see a human die than a demon? Because everyone else seems so eager to see you die as one. You wouldn't know, you never wished death upon any specific human nor killed any. Yes, sometimes you curse some more anstract subjects, like people who hurt others, some criminals, and so, but you have never talked to anyone and wished you could kill them.

Every Hashira seems obsessed with death in one way or another, even if it's only to avoid it like Mitsuri, who is crearly sobbing and trying to keep it down. "Where is Tomioka? We shouldn't start without him!" Asks Rengoku impossible to not hear him, even in your state, but you know that he isn't comming probably asked permission for it. Damn him, that coward. You can also basically hear the scoffs from Shinazugawa and Obanai. After some seconds you feel the Serpent Hashira stab your shoulder with that irregula blade, making the cut difficult ans uneven, not covering the bleeding at all. "Obanai! Stop! Do not let your anger cloud your judgement!" Himejima acrually screams, and Obanai is close enough for you to hear and see him decently.

There is also a significant, loud, growing hatred in his eyes. Being any other situation you would tease that it's because you made Kanroji cry, but you know better. It's because he trusted you to kill demons and die trying, and you didn't. Come to think about it, it's an unfair standard to hold against anyone. What about those who had someone to go hone to? What about those too young to die? What about those who have a bright future ahead? Is everyone expected to? "My judgement?! What about L/N's judgement! This level of treason is unforgivable! It deserves more than a quick death! I apologize, Oyakata-sama, but I can't accept your desition!" Kanroji only cries harder at the time she speaks. "NO! NO! Y/N-SAN IS STILL OUR FRIEND! WE SHOULD AT LEAST MAKE IT AS PAINLESS AS POSSIBLE!"

"OUR FRIEND? A FRIEND DOESN'T GO AND SLEEP WITH THE ENEMY! IF L/N SIDES WITH THE ENEMY THEN WE TREAT THEM AS SUCH!" Shinazugawa screams at her, moving her direction angrily, so both Kocho and Rengoku put themself in between. You can't hear what Kocho says, but you can definetely make up what Rengoku does. "Shinazugawa! I understand your anger! This betrayal woould never go unpunished! But if we torture and rip L/N as we pleasw we won't be better than demons! We must answer with humanity!"

There is arguing, a lot of noise, Himejima and Tokito-kun are the only ones that are not with to it, besides the big boss who will only let them cool down by themselves, but you don't know that because you can make any voice out of the sounds, but because you know them. You know them... You spoke with them, shared meals and stories with some, worked with them... you know them, and they know you. And still, they will be the ones to kill you as long as they sort their shit out before you bleed to death.

"SILENCE! THIS IS SO UNFLASHY, WE SHOULD NOT BE GOING AGAINST EACH OTHER AFTER SUCH AN EVENT. We are already too on edge for this treason, we we can handle it. We should not be losing trust on each other!" Suddenly screams Uzui as he takes out his weapons, unecesaryly moving them for show, having the blades surrounding his torso, arms and shoulders without a single scratch on him. "I should be the one who deals with this. I know how to make it fast." He gets close to you as your vision becomes even more blured, to the point everything is red. Not black yet, you can basically see your eyelids and your own blood on the ground. You feel cold, trembling violently, you are pain, wanting to throw up your empty, tight and twisted stomach, feeling as if your organs will leave your body through the mouth the second you give into that urge. You pant, having a hard time breathing, every muscles is sore and protests... You are scared.

You swore that was what forced you to stay awake, even after loosing so much blood, but then... "Well, isn't this sad?" You hear a voice loud and clear, masculine. One that you have never heard before but still edges you. Your heart beats faster and normally you would worry about what that would mean something for the bloodloss, but... you don't feel like you are loosing blood, on the contrary, you feel more. "To be honest, I didn't notice at first you had my blood in your system, but now that you are weak, loosing the liquids of your body, the few drops you had inside are taking over. I won't pretend I don't know about your... intimacy with one of my powerful demons, but let me tell you this. It can save you."

You.... can be saved? You want to be saved, you have no idea where Uzui is, if he is near and ready to make the last blow or the arguing is stopping him. "You see, right now I can speak with you, share myself, but I can't take any look in your mind. But if you were to say where you are, I will gladly save you. Just tell where where are the ones who hurt you, and I'll even reward you with more blood. Don't you think it's a winning deal for you?" You cal sell out everyone for your own survival. Do you actually want them to die? To be killed. You feel suddenly a bit better, as the demon cells fight off the drugs.

You take air into your lungs softly and-

Tomioka Giyuu is in his home. He didn't want to be part of this. For now he doesn't want to think about it, the fact that one day he might take your place for not killing that demon girl. Urokodaki sends him letters of Kamado Tanjiro's process, the boy sends him his own letters too. He reads them all. Right now he has a brush in his hands, wondering if he should answer. He is tempted to write back, congratulate him, tell him he is doing good, to take care of himself and his sister, or at least to warn him about some difficulties he might face.

He can't. He doesn't want to get attached, no matter how nice and lovely the boy is, of how much he reminds him of himself when younger, except Tanjiro has more talent and is more capable that he was at his age. He will make a great water Hashira, far better than him. But for that Tomioka can't risk the others undermining his judgement by defending you. He didn't know if he would or not, and he didn't want to find out. Right now, that important thing is to ensure that the boy will take his place, and that means taking his distance too. Because everyone that Giyuu has ever held so dear into his heart dies. His sister and Sabito.... and even if you too were not close, not really friend... but still.

"It shoukd have been me." Is the only thing he can think as he sets the brush aside, not having written anything, and saving the letters carefully in a box. Then, just silence.

It doesn't matter anymore.

[arendaes]

By Any Other Name - Prologue and Chapter One

From now on I'm going to be posting my writing exclusively on Tumblr, so I'm transferring over my current long fic and a few other stories that were never posted here in full for continuity's sake.

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Rating: M to be safe

Warnings: None

Relationship: Commander/Daeran/Woljif (F/M/M)

"Oh tell to me Tam Lin” she said "Why came you here to dwell" "The Fairy Queen caught me," he said, "When from my horse I fell. And at the end of seven years She pays a tithe to hell” - The Ballad of Tam Lin

Once upon a time, there was a witch.

She lived deep in the woods, in a small cottage with her daughter. The witch won’t pretend she was good, or kind. That would be a lie. What she was, however, was powerful. So powerful she was forced into hiding, to perform in craft in secret and isolation. That worked for her, though. For the most part.

The only company she had was that of her daughter, whom she raised far from civilization and all its trappings. The girl grew up curious and inquisitive, and in time bloomed into a wild and mischievous personality. The witch did not mind. Many things could be said about her, most of them were horrible, but one of them was this - she loved her daughter very much.

One day, her daughter decided she was tired of living in their small cottage, deep in the woods. There was a whole world out there, or so she’d heard. She wanted to see it, and so she put a plan into motion. She scoured her mother’s spellbooks, day and night ,and formulated a plan. It was brilliant, she thought. Her mother couldn’t possibly be mad at her, not with how clever she was! And even if she was - she’d be gone before she even noticed.

Naturally, this did not go as planned. The plan backfired, and the witch’s daughter paid the ultimate price for it.

In her grief, the witch contemplated many courses of action. What good were all her powers, if she couldn’t save the one person she loved?

It was that thought she held onto, as she began to formulate a plan of her own. One that would see her daughter alive and whole again. One that would take a very long time to set in motion, and require extraordinary effort on her part.

It was brilliant, she thought. No one could possibly fault her for what she was about to do. And even if they did - they’d be gone before they could do anything about it.

Chapter One

“What kind of name is Heaven’s Edge for a village, anyways?”

The question that’d been on Ariadne’s mind was voiced by her mother, who was sitting next to her in the carriage. Judging by the sly, sidelong look she shot her, she knew she’d just been itching to ask this herself. Ariadne smirked in response, which was most inconvenient, since she’d resolved to be as glum and gloomy as possible on this journey.

Her father and stepfather sat across from them, and they exchanged their own look. It was half amusement, half exasperation.

“I believe the name is related to the Arendae ancestral home. The village sprang up around it, and I suppose it’s only natural to adopt the pompous name the landed gentry you tithe to decided was worthy.” Elvandir shot her a conspiratorial grin, which she couldn’t help but return. Damnit, she was supposed to be the picture of a sullen teenager!

“Yes, well, let’s make sure to save those scathing criticisms for the evening over supper, hm? At least until we know how much the town guard expects as a bribe to forget we’ve said anything.” Her father gave Elvandir an admonishing look as he spoke, one that slid effortlessly to her mother a moment later, then her. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes was unmistakable, but it didn’t have the desired effect. Now, instead of her resolve to be the most dour daughter imaginable, she just felt guilty.

It was her fault they were having to pack up and move to the northernmost part of the country, despite what everyone told her. If she’d just been a bit more careful, a bit less invested in her reading and a bit more aware of her surroundings, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Her chest ached, the edges of the closed wound burning faintly in an ever-present reminder of the burden she’d become.

Her father’s mirth dissipated as her demeanor shifted. “Ariadne, are you all right?”

She nodded too quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. It did nothing to reassure anyone. Her mother scooted closer to her, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. Ariadne let her head rest against her shoulder, all conviction to be morose forgotten.

“We should be arriving soon. Everything in the house is already set up, so how about you get some rest while we get things set up on the farm?” Ariadne started to protest, but the concern on her parents’ faces shot killed the objections in her throat. Instead she nodded slightly, closing her eyes and rubbing her chest through her dress as she let the rocking of the carriage lull her to sleep.

****

If there was one thing Woljif Jefto knew, it was that tieflings got no respect in a place like Heaven’s Edge. So when he overheard two of the town’s biggest gossip mongers trading whispers about a family of tieflings moving into one of the newly established farmsteads outside town, well, he couldn’t resist the urge to sneak out and see for himself.

It was easy enough to sneak away. School had just let out for summer vacation not even a week prior, and Gran didn’t expect, or even want, him back until nightfall. She'd probably kick him out of the house for good if the rumor mill would let her, but sadly for her the family that owned the tavern, the Vaenics, were the pious sort who looked down on things like disowning your flesh and blood. If she wanted to keep easy access to her favorite vice, she had to keep her grandson around, no matter how much she loathed him.

That suited him just fine, because he hated the old windbag too. There was plenty around the town to keep him occupied. Lots of good shops to scope out, lots of annoyed shopkeeps to outrun…why waste his time at home getting knocked about the horns when he could do that in town and maybe get something shiny out of it to boot?

But that did leave one question, one that bounced in his head like the coin he so desperately wished was in his pocket, and that was, what tiefling family in their right mind would move out here? None, it turned out, because it wasn’t a tiefling family. At least, not entirely.

He snuck up to the farmhouse, no easy feat as it was set almost dead center on the small plot of land. As got closer, he heard the voices, just barely managing to hide in the hedges lining the house before a trio of people rounded the corner.

One of them was a tiefling, with dark red skin and curving horns. His dark hair and neatly trimmed beard were shot through with grey, but besides that he didn’t seem terribly old. Walking to one side of him was a woman who seemed human at first glance, until he caught sight of her eyes - one dark brown, the other ice blue. Changeling. Despite having never met one, he just knew that's what she was. She was pretty, but unnerving, and the only plausible explanation his mind came up with was that she had some fey in her. Rounding out the trio was an elven man. He towered over the other two, his dark skin offset by the pure white of his hair. He had a wide, friendly smile, one that didn't alleviate the creepiness of his eyes in the slightest. Woljif had seen an elf before, and he knew those eyes were typical of their kind. Didn't change the fact they were off-putting at the best of times.

So, not a family of tieflings, but not the most usual dynamic either. Woljif watched as they walked past his hiding spot, holding his breath, just waiting to be found out. They just kept walking, though, chatting happily amongst themselves. Woljif sighed with relief when they were out of earshot, pleased he hadn't been found out. That feeling lasted all of five seconds, because just as he opened his eyes again, something slammed into the side of his face.

“Ow! What the -” His curse was cut off by the sight of a girl crawling out of the window above his hiding spot. She stared at him, her expression no doubt mirroring his own. He watched her pupils go from cat-like slits to full blown and back again. In hindsight, that should've been his first clue that there was something different about her, but it wasn't until she launched herself off the windowsill and onto him, her hand clamped over his mouth, that he realized she was a tiefling as well.

“Shh!” Her voice was a harsh whisper, her eyes darting past him. While she attempted to scope out whatever it was that had her spooked, he took in the sight of the small curved horns on top of her head and the tail lashing in the air behind her. If anything was going to give them away, it was that, but with her hand still silencing him he couldn't exactly voice that thought.

After a moment, she pulled her hand away. “I think they’re gone,” she said, tension bleeding out of her. She then turned her gaze to him, looking at him like he was a puzzle or riddle to figure out. “Who’re you and why are you beneath my window?”

He considered turning the question around on her, but that wouldn’t do him any good. Besides the obvious tiefling features, she was the spit of the changeling woman he’d seen. It wasn’t hard to figure out that she belonged here, and he didn’t. That made this situation rather precarious, no matter how relaxed she now seemed.

“I was just comin’ to meet the new folks in town. Ya know, bein’ neighborly and all that.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still sounded weak to his own ears. If she thought the same, it didn’t show. Instead, she inclined her head slightly, taking him in with interest.

“Is that so? I’m afraid you’re ill-prepared for it,” she said, a small smirk playing on the edge of her lips, “Don’t you know you’re supposed to bring a baked good of some kind?”

“Oh? Well damn, if I’d known that I woulda swiped those cherry rolls from the baker’s after all.” It was strange - normally he’d never admit to something like that to anyone, let alone a stranger, but this girl, with her big, earnest eyes and mischievous smile, made him feel more at ease than anyone else ever had. That probably wasn’t a good thing - he’d heard what happened when people fell for pretty faces and charming smiles, and it’d always been a fate he wished to avoid. But at the moment, he didn't have it in himself to care.

Her eyes lit up. “So there’s a baker’s in town? What else? Is there a bookshop? Or a library? An apothecary?” She leaned further into him, fingers lightly resting on his chest. He blinked. That was not the barrage of questions he had expected to be asked if he got caught, and coupled with her proximity it was making him feel uncomfortably warm in a way that had nothing to do with the summer heat.

“Why you askin’ me? You can just go see for yourself. It’s not like it’s far or anythin’,” he said with a cough, finally breaking eye contact with her and hoping she didn’t clock the blush that now stained his cheeks. After a brief silence from her, he glanced back. She was looking past him again, biting her lip as her tail swayed gently close to the ground. His own was cramped underneath him, but despite the fact it was starting to go numb he didn’t move to shove her off him.

Finally, she looked back at him. “I’m supposed to be resting, but…I really want to see the village. Will you take me?”

Questions upon questions burst forth in his mind. Why did she need to rest? Why was she trusting a boy she just met to guide her? What perfume was she wearing that made her smell so good? Hells, what was her name? He decided to go with the one that was easiest to ask.

“Mind tellin’ me your name first?”

Surprise flitted across her face, quickly replaced by a slightly sheepish smile. “I’m Ariadne. And you are?”

“Woljif. Woljif Jefto.” He said it with as much bravado as he could muster. It was a nothing name that didn’t mean anything to anybody but him, but he liked it all the same. For some reason, he hoped she did too.

****

Daeran Arendae was hopelessly, hideously bored, and he was ready to make it everyone else’s problem.

He stared idly at the window display of the town’s trinket shop - pardon, it’s Antiquities and Mysteries shop. Nothing about any of the items he saw was particularly mysterious; it looked more like a place where passerby could pawn whatever was in their pockets to a proprietor that was no doubt going to spin a yarn and sell it for ten times what it was actually worth.

The gnome who ran the place had just moved to Heaven’s Edge a year or so prior, once word had gotten to Kenabres about how bustling and booming the town was becoming. A part of him wondered if the gnome felt cheated once he got to this backwater and saw the truth. The fact the shop was still in business, and bustling as ever, was answer enough, he assumed. That was for the better, as it was the only store within walking distance to town hall that also offered any shade.

It didn’t take long for him to become aware someone was watching him. Besides the servant his mother had insisted accompany him, that was. She was a pale, silent older woman who stared at him like he was a miracle given flesh. He was used to that reaction by now - aasimar were rare this far north, so he and his mother were likely the first she’d ever met. He had no doubt she had eyes on him, even now, but she likely wasn’t the source of the fervent whispering he was hearing from nearby.

“…do you know he even has anything good on him? He’s the same age as us!” This voice was female, with a light accent he couldn’t quite place. It also sounded fairly incredulous to be having this conversation.

“Yeah, so? That shirt alone’s gotta be worth a fortune. Even if all I get is lint, chances are it’ll be worth its weight in gold!” This one, slightly deeper, was affected by the local accent. Judging by the tone, the person who the voice belonged to was dismayed to find that voicing these words didn’t make this plan sound any better.

“Lint doesn’t weigh anything.”

“Exactly!”

“So you’ll get nothing?”

“Yes! I mean, no.” There was a long pause. “I’m confused now.”

“I’m not. Under no circumstances do I think you should go through with this.”

“You want one of those cherry rolls or not?” More silence, this time from the girl. After a moment, the boy added, “Thought so. Now just wait here, I promise it won’t take long.”

Daeran stood still, pretending he was enamored with one of the objects in the window. It wasn’t an easy task, as every item his gaze landed on was more hideous than the last. Finally, he felt a small, barely perceptible tug on his shirt. He had to hand it to the boy - if he wasn’t aware he was the mark, he might not have even noticed. But he did, and the thrill that ran through him as he casually slid his hand down to grasp the thief by the wrist was addicting.

He turned just as the boy let out a startled yelp. The quip that formulated in his mind comparing his would-be assailant to a dog died in his throat as he caught sight of him. Dark curls, purple skin, golden eyes wide with surprise…he was quite handsome, for a thief. The horns had a certain charm to them too, he supposed. And the tail…! Movement caught his eye and he looked past the thief to see his companion, a tiefling girl of about the same age who was just fetching, her eyes a dark shade of amber with a smattering of freckles across her nose and lips to die for.

A rather strange time to discover he might have a preference, all told, but he wasn’t going to complain. His afternoon had just gone from boring to exciting in a matter of seconds, after all. Now he only needed the perfect opening line.

“If you’re so desperate to see what’s in my pants, you could’ve just asked.” All right, perhaps that was a bit too forward, but the blush that spread across the tiefling boy’s cheeks made it worth it.

“I-I wasn't…I mean, it's not…” The boy spluttered as he broke out of his grasp.

“Not what? What it seems?” His lips twisted in what he hoped was his most charming sneer. Sure, he might find the two of them attractive, but that didn't change the fact they’d just been attempting to rob him. He was the scion of his house, and it was most unbecoming if he just let this slide. And besides, having your pockets rifled through was annoying, no matter how dazzling the perpetrator. “Either you were attempting to grope me, or relieve me of my possessions. So which would it be?

Behind the boy, the girl rolled her eyes. He probably should have been annoyed at the gesture, but instead he found a grin blossoming on his face instead. It grew when she said, “I think you know it was the latter. No one’s gonna try to cop a feel on someone who could clearly have their hands cut off for doing so.”

“By that logic, isn’t your friend’s attempt to pickpocket me equally as likely to result in that outcome, if not more?”

The girl scowled at him, in a manner quite ill-befitting her pretty face. He smiled in return.

“You’re right,” she said, grabbing the boy by the back of his shirt and pulling him away from Daeran. “We’re sorry. We’ll just be on our way.”

“Ari,” the boy hissed, “This is Countess Arendae’s son.” His eyes were wide, his riotous mass of black curls trembling slightly.

“What?” Now it was her turn to look surprised. He found he liked this expression on her much more. “Of all the - why did you try it with him!?”

“I didn’t recognize the back of his head!”

“As amusing as it is for you two to talk as if I’m not here, I really have to insist you stop.” Really, he was genuinely amused by this. It was rare for anyone who wasn’t his mother or his tutors to directly interact with him, and he found he rather liked it when said interaction was with people his own age. Though the alarmed looks they kept giving him would prove to be a problem…

“We’re sorry,” the girl repeated again. After a moment, she added, through gritted teeth, “Lord Arendae.”

That he scoffed at. “Please don’t. Call me Daeran, if it’s all the same to you.”

The tieflings exchanged a glance at that. The boy still looked like he wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole, but the girl’s fear and annoyance was quickly being replaced by what he believed was curiosity.

“All right, Daeran,” she said, “We’re sorry we tried to rob you, and for talking like you weren’t here. Now, mind telling us why you haven’t called a guard or something?”

Daeran had to bite back the immediate retort, which was that he didn’t particularly want to see them arrested. If they knew that, they might just take off. That was precisely what he didn’t want. This was the most fun he’d had in a while, and he wanted to ensure his continued entertainment. And the best way to do that…

“You know, this shop supposedly has wonders from all over the world inside it.” He could tell they didn’t quite believe him. Not that he blamed them - he didn’t quite believe it either. “Why don't we go inside and take a little look? And if you see anything worth taking, well…it would help to have the Countess’ son along, right?”

Part of him didn't believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. He might be a spiteful little shit, as he’d been told, but aiding and abetting thievery was new, even for him. Still, when he saw their faces light up in cautious excitement, he couldn’t help but feel that damned warm, fuzzy feeling that all the books he read claimed existed.

If this was what having friends was going to be like, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret this decision for a moment.

Chapter Two

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love, part 9 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near-death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here)

Steve POV continued

“Sorry.” Lying in his bunk in the gloomy cabin, Steve drags his fingers miserably across his eyes. How freakin’ embarrassing—mistaking his best friend for his parents. “Still dreaming, I guess.”

“How do you feel?” asks Robin.

“Oh, peachy! How d’ya think?” He’s beyond tired of feeling this crappy. What the hell happened this time?

Oh yes. He and Eddie kissed, and then…

“Okay, bad news first,” she says, perching on the bed. “You bled through your bandages again. Got all sweaty and yuck.” He knows this already—from the gnaw in his side, and how he’s sticking to the lumpy mattress. “Good news? The bleeding stopped. The really juicy news—we have a theory about what might fix you.”

She spouts a load of stuff about the water from Lover’s Lake giving him some kind of vaguely defined power. And Eddie sucking it out of him?

He snickers. “Did you get that crackpot theory out of the ‘The Weekly Watcher?’”

“Come on, Steve, this is way beyond a shot-in-the-dark.” He rolls his eyes. Even though he sort of agrees with her. “We need to test the theory. Eddie’s gone to fetch lake water.”

“He’s gone back to Hawkins? Is he out of his mind?” He can’t spare the energy to worry about Eddie. He still does, and it makes him feel worse.

“You all right?” asks Robin. “You’ve gone… kinda gray.”

Yeah, feeling kinda gray. He stops scowling, simply because it’s too much effort. “Is there any non-Fairyland water in this shit-hole?”

“There’s a pump.”

After he’s had a drink and splashed his face, he feels… not much better, actually. He slumps back onto the pillow with a hard sigh. “Robin, I wish it was just us, stuck in this together. You're literally the only person in my life where there’s, like, almost zero tension. I mean, we bitch at each other and all—”

“Never!” she snarks.

“Haha, point taken. It’s about nothing that ever matters, though. I know.... You'll... You know, we’ll…”

“Always be there for each other? I sure hope so.” There’s a quiver in her voice that alarms him.

“You still think one of us might not make it this time?”

“No! I mean... We've gotten through that part, haven't we?”

Sure doesn’t feel like it from here. 

“Listen,” she says, “it doesn’t have to be tense or cringy between you and Eddie, just because you like each other.”

“Yeah, right. We kissed. I passed out! Not cool.”

“Like he’s gonna hold that against you.” She squeezes his arm. He stares at her chipped nail polish, battling a fresh assault from his candy-ass emotions. “As per ever, dates keep belly-flopping into your lap! When we get through this, I swear I'm gonna slap you for—”

An owl hoot interrupts her. She scuttles to the window, crouches down and peeps out. “It’s okay,” she hisses, “It’s Eddie.”

“Your signal is an owl noise? It’s the middle of the goddamn day! Why don’t you wait till dark and send up fireworks?”

Steve grumbles for the sake of it. On the other hand, he wasn’t lying to Robin. He really doesn’t want to handle Eddie right now. He turns his face to the pillow, muffles his ears with the blanket. Someone prods him. “Steve,” says Robin. “We’ve got the lake water.”

He rolls over. Eddie’s there, brandishing a plastic bottle of clouded liquid. He fixes on Robin. “You want me to drink that shit?”

“Not unless you want to die of what half the soldiers in the Civil War did,” says Robin.

Steve shares a moment of bafflement with Eddie. “How am I gonna get shot drinking lake water?”

“They died of dysentery, Dingus! You literally did nothing in history other than crack moronic jokes and eat breakfast, did you?”

“Whatever,” mumbles Steve. He’s not sure what dysentery is. Sounds sucky. “What are we supposed to do with it, super-brain?”

“Erm, try pouring it.” Robin peels off the freshly bloodied bandages from Steve’s side, grimacing as dramatically as ever. “To be fair, this is disgusting and almost as risky. If nothing good happens, though, we can wipe it off. Yay!”

She drips on the water. For a split second, it’s ice-cold, and he hisses. “Ow… Jesus, Robin!”  

“Sorry.”

“Nothing’s happening,” he says. “Oh, hold on. Gnnng, no, no, no, no, no!” 

Steve’s flesh and blood blend into pink froth, sizzling like he’s been doused in boiling chip fat. Robin jolts backward; Steve whimpers, helpless to stop himself. Eddie, meanwhile, grabs Steve’s hand, as the unbearable scalding subsides into a strong but tolerable itch. Steve inhales raggedly, lifts his head to confirm that the bat bites have knitted again, leaving a wet mess of red puckered marks and scars.

“I guess that could’ve gone worse.” Eddie sounds spooked.

“Could’ve gone worse? It hurt like… What just happened? WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” Steve’s got a crazy urge to scream… no… run! Pushing himself up onto his elbows takes everything he’s got. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“Ssssh, it’s okay.” Robin’s now gotten her arms around him, and Eddie’s still holding his hand. “This proves that it’s the water. You’re not flayed, or Vecnad, or Henryd or whatever. Eddie and I discussed it and—”

“What!?!” Steve wriggles free and laughs, because this is hysterical. “You discussed that without including me?”

“We never believed you’d been taken by the dark side,” says Robin, her hand on her breast. “I swear!”

“That’s not the… Ow!”

“Does it still hurt?” asks Robin.

Steve stares daggers at Eddie: “Can you quit crushing my fingers already?”

“Sorry.” Eddie drops Steve’s hand, a little too keenly—leaving Steve oddly desolate, despite his request. Other than that, he does feel better.

And grouchier than ever.

Half an hour later, he’s well enough to get up. He washes himself down at the pump, attempts to salvage his hair, then joins the others in preparing a baked-bean and banana supper. He argues forcefully that both parts can be served together, and it will taste awesome.

Which they do.

Ignoring Robin’s advice, he sips a bottle of bad beer. Eddie is clad in a clean Hellfire Club t-shirt—given to him by Henderson—and regales them with news from Hawkins. This proves depressing, given that Eleven and Hopper are now outlaws too. Then they chat about what hiding places they might move onto next.

“We’re not quite as remote as we thought here,” says Robin. “I found a track that leads pretty close, and you could probably get an off-roader all the way to the camp.” She glances at Steve. “We need somewhere really tucked away, and maybe closer to Lover’s Lake, right?”

“Why are you asking me?” he snaps. “You two seem to have all the answers. I haven’t a clue.”

Steve crawls into his bunk first. For once, sleep doesn’t clobber him instantly. Despite what he said to Robin, he has got theories—stupid though they seem—about the lake, and that time he nearly drowned in it.

He should’ve been terrified of swimming after that. He never was. Plus, he’s been dreaming about that period of his life lately. Dreaming about it a LOT, now he thinks about it.

After a while, he gets sick of his churning thoughts and sits up. Moonlight streaks through one of the high bunk room windows, revealing that Eddie is awake too, cross-legged on the floor. He’s muttering to himself, fiddling with his hair, then his hands. 

On spotting Steve staring at him, he presses a finger to his lips, picks up a flashlight, and motions toward the door. Steve pulls on a sweater and follows him outside. It’s a dry night. Banks of bruise-brown clouds semi-obscure a near full moon and a few hazy stars. It’s cool too, though Steve’s palms are getting clammy.

He tracks Eddie into a nearby cabin, filled with a ton of old rope and lumber-hauling equipment. He then remembers he’s annoyed, and folds his arms.

“Totally love how you two went behind my back and discussed whether I was flayed or not.”

Eddie plonks down the flashlight. “Kinda obvious that we had to. We didn’t tell you, because we didn’t want to stress you out, and… honestly? We never bought it. Dustin was highly sceptical—”

“You discussed me with Henderson too? That’s great!” Steve plants his hands on his hips, growing too hot and bothered to think straight: “Maybe you’re ALL idiots. Maybe I am somehow flayed! Right at the start, that Upside Down thing came through my pool. Possibly. To take Barb. Now the water from near a gate fixes me and—“

“And I make you fix me!” Eddie’s preening grin is vicious. “Perhaps I’m the source of the magical shitstorm? Did that ever cross your egotistical rich-brat mind, Harrington?”

Eddie might as well have punched him. Steve’s still reeling from the blow, when Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose:

“Look, I’m sorry, man,” mutters Eddie. “I’m pretty stressed, too. Dustin was telling me about how you got sick whenever you left Hawkins as a kid, and—"

“Wow! Good job I’m an EGOTISTICAL BRAT, because I really am a hot topic! Did Nance reel off an article for the Hawkins Post?”

“Uh, Steve?” Eddie takes a step closer then abruptly pulls short. “I apologised, okay? Why exactly are we arguing about this?”

“I… Oh Christ, Eddie, I honestly don’t know.”

Steve’s shoulders slump. How excruciatingly typical! That little egg-head Dustin had a hunch about something that’s only just occurring to Steve, and which… Shit, the whispers in his mind are scary.

This is where you come clean, Harrington. This is where you say: "I almost drowned in that lake in 1978. What if it wasn't 'almost?' What if I died back then, at eleven years old. What if something or someone in that water brought me back, and for good or evil, it's still got a hold of me?"

Does it make any sense? Would Eddie simply think him egotistical again, or stupid? Suddenly, all he wants is to forget the whole wide world, especially the freaky parts. Everything apart from… 

…Eddie.

Who is hunching awkwardly away from Steve, palpably scared to get too near, let alone touch him. The naked longing in those gorgeous brown eyes, however, is reassuring. 

“Look, I'm sorry too.” Steve licks dry lips. “I’ve been a complete asshole today, I know. It’s just… What happened when we kissed is so humiliating.”

“Why? It’s not your fault. Believe me, Stevie, I’d kiss you again in a heartbeat, if it wasn’t for… uh…”

Eddie’s adorable blushes and the silly pet name are invitation enough. Steve closes the gap between them, leans in and whispers:

“You win. Maybe we shouldn’t kiss again till we’ve figured out exactly what’s going on, but… C’mon, man, you’ve touched me plenty without any bad repercussions. I slept in your lap.” We freakin’ spooned! “There’s gotta be something fun we can do.” 

Eddie shakes his head, squirming hilariously. “You take a turn for the worse, papa bear will rip my guts out.”

“What are you talking ab… Oh, Robin? Seriously?”

“Look, I really don’t want to hurt you.”  Steve’s chest pangs, because this could be a brush off. 

Or it might not be.

“C’mon, Munson. Promise I’m not gonna break.” At that, a dirty little smile plays on Eddie’s mouth, which sends sparks through Steve’s veins. “What you thinking?”

The smile evolves into a filthy laugh. “All right, before you get out the thumb-screws—I used to have this fantasy about you. It’s totally messed-up, kinda kinky. I wouldn’t expect you to be up for it, even if we didn’t have our current, uh, issues.”

“Oh!” To be fair, Eddie is right. Steve has never been into kinky shit. That said, before this guy hijacked his heart, he’s never salivated at the mere thought of tattoos. “Um, try me?”

Eddie husks his little scenario into Steve’s ear, and Steve decides he’s totally game. 

“It’s a kook-ball daydream,” says Eddie. “We shouldn’t really—"

“You wanna tie me up, Munson? We got plenty of rope a night to kill.” He slinks his arms up and under Eddie’s t-shirt. “Let’s do this.”

Part 10

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 Part 11

[actualbird]

on marius' personal sweet chapter stories.....i just wanna talk about The Thing these stories (both sweet chapter story 1 and 2) are Doing and how it makes me really emotional cuz like

in marius' sweet chapter 1 story: we see marius and mc help out timmy through his grief of having recently lost his older brother. throughout the entire thing, marius struggles with his own emotions and feelings about giann's disappearance.

in marius' sweet chapter 2 story: we see that in marius' efforts to protect pax and the von hagen name so that giann will have a good standing to return to once he's found, marius finds himself inevitably having a hand in firing kenji, who takes the fall protect marius. kenji, whom marius sees as an older brother figure to him as well.

whats going on in both these stories: marius' emotions and fears being prodded at, even to the point of intense anger in sweet chapter 2, because the events make him go through whats essentially a secondhand experience of losing a brother.

in terms of this possibly being foreshadowing, i feel very "ONE FEAR" about it all because it's uhhhhh not looking good for giann von hagen ;-;

but in terms of characterization and story, i feel elated because it's these kinds of stories that really show off marius' character, especially the traits and feelings that he tries to hide or sweep under the rug.

in sweet chapter 1, marius consistently brushes off mc worrying about his feelings and then, once he does finally talk about his feelings, he does so in a very emotionally detached kind of way (i wrote more in depth about marius and emotional distancing in this analysis here).

to emotionally distance one's self is, one way or another, a method by which to avoid confronting something head on. timmy's experience paralleling marius' own worries and life is something that marius is afraid of tackling. because thats family hes talking about. and family means the world to him.

in sweet chapter 2, the revelation that kenji did what he did to protect marius got marius absolutely enraged the moment it became clear kenji, an older brother figure to marius, sacrificed himself for marius' sake. thats something that terrifying for marius, because thats not how it's supposed to go, for him. hes the one whos supposed to be protecting people, to shoulder the responsibility so others can get out unscathed, hes the one who needs to take on these burdens not because of pride or anything, but because he wants people to stop getting hurt because of him.

other people getting hurt for marius' sake is one of marius' biggest fears. it pops up so often in all his stories, either the fear itself and/or the measures he takes to prevent other people getting hurt: his childhood guilt over thinking he caused his mother's death (SSR All Through The Night), him moving to florence for his studie so that austin and giann wouldnt get bad press about the whole pax civil war succession thing (SSR Precious Mornings), him worried about causing a man's suicide (SSR Daytime Aurora), him guilty over his friend who got hurt in his name (SR Vibrant Graffiti) like my god, and those are just the ones off the top of my head!!!!

he even says this outright in the story, right after the confrontation with kenji

to marius, kenji taking the fall for him is another person who got hurt because of him. and the fact that he did it willingly to protect marius makes it worse, because thats such an older brother thing to do isnt it? marius saw him as family. family means the world to him.

but marius did not want to be the cause for another person having to suffer, and for another person having to be gone, in a way.

sweet chapter 1 showed us grief from the perspective of a younger brother whose older brother passed away.

sweet chapter 2 showed us an older brother sacrificing himself for a younger brother and having to leave because of that.

now remember what i said about secondhand experiences paralleling onto marius' life and his own worries about giann? yeah. like, no wonder marius got so affected, upset, and emotional in both these stories;

he doesnt want to say goodbye.

[zanukavat]

OOOO OP DROP RICK AND MORTY OCS

OH BOY HERE WE GO.

so, I made these cute ref sheets in the shows style yesterday (and today), apologies if you cant decipher my scribbly handwriting, ill summarize below:

Rick (nicknamed on the citadel "Seven")

Rick's home dimension is M-121.5 but you could hardly call it a home. He left his Diane and Beth behind shortly after acquiring portal technology from Prime or one of his subordinate Ricks, wandering off to absorb himself in the vastness of infinity.

His original dimension never ended up birthing a Morty, since his Beth and Jerry had trouble supporting themselves and had Summer as their only child.

Rick, eventually growing lonely but refusing to admit it, joins the citadel in an effort to be useful and climb the ranks there with the hopes of living a fulfilling life in a safe, Rick-made bubble. He gets assigned a Morty as standard, but said Morty dies in combat on a riot not too shortly after.

Rick gets a (small) punishment, one you'd get for breaking a doorknob or forgetting to turn off the lights in the building before you leave; getting a Morty killed. He probably just has to scrub toilets for a week or something.

He gets his new Morty and resumes work on the teleportation deck as normal and lives with his Morty in a small apartment, until S301 where they manage to flee the citadel together.

Morty ("unlucky charm" / other similar insults behind his back)

Has forgotten his original dimensional code due to constant changes of ownership. Only the Morty databanks know it now. He took M-121.5's dimension as his and carries a small wristband with the code written on it.

This Morty has gone through a LOT of Ricks. Six in fact, which is why his new Rick is mockingly called "Seven" by others on the citadel, making fun of him for ending up with such a shitty excuse of a Morty. Asking him if he'd lost a bet.

Morty's left arm has been surgically altered to fit a tracker interface that'll show Rick's current position and vitals to Morty. Though he only gets this later, after they flee the citadel.

The jacket he is wearing was originally merchandise stolen from a small shop he worked in while living on the citadel. They later add patches to it in an effort to cover up the citadel logo, since Morty doesn't want to give up the jacket, and Rick is paranoid about association with the citadel after they've fled. Pretty rich coming from the guy still wearing his uniform under a stinky coat, but what can you do when those are the only clothes you've got.

They go through an intense period of struggling for survival, with the Federation collapse and chaos left behind, the two of them retreat to more desolate spots of the universe to wait for the dust to settle. After a bit of "holy shit we lived" euphoria, they fight a lot, with Rick slowly noticing the many flaws in this Morty he is now -- in his assumption -- forever stuck with. He also pushes Morty too far numerous times but reels him back in again anytime because what other option is there? Being stranded alone in an asteroid gas station restaurant?

Eventually Morty suggests returning to "their" home dimension. Rick's home dimension. He's reluctant but eventually (after a really long while and lots of convincing) does give in since their circumstances are dire and they could use a little civilization, even if it means returning to the family he abandoned.

I don't have much worked out for this Smith family, but I'd assume Summer is a good deal different from the Summer we know, due to being an only child. Beth's daddy issues are just as intense as Beth Prime.

This Beth and Jerry probably also never end up divorced and stay together for Summer's sake, honestly probably unhealthier than just splitting up for the time being and working out their issues separately.

Once they crash (probably literally) into their new "home" and everybody gets over the initial insanity of the situation, Rick struggles to confront the reasons he left and kind of just drowns himself in unhealthy habits. Besides the known drinking issues which is kind of the baseline, he makes sure to never let Morty out of his sight and pretty much makes a normal life for the kid impossible despite desperately promising it to him when they turned to move to Earth.

He builds a new portal gun out of scrap they've harvested while surviving and old things Beth never threw away because they reminded her of her father, and he's gone again. Gone with Morty. Gone God knows where. Except he returns at night to sleep in a shitty little cot and fuck he probably drags Morty's air mattress into his room with him without any explanation. Blames it on Morty not being able to sleep alone since they left the citadel. Blames it on anything but himself.

They go into what I'd describe as a narcissism-fuelled grace period, or honeymoon period, the more time they spend together off-planet after crashing at the Smith's house.

They go from Rick being very controlling and making Morty feel like an inferior sidekick, to Rick actually opening up and helping him become better. Very slowly and gradually, he realizes that, well, he's stuck with this Morty now. This is *his* Morty by all intents and purposes, and he doesnt have a fuckin replacement Morty ticket and after constructing and unregistered portal gun he'd not be let back into the citadel anyway even after reconstruction - so might as well invest his time and effort into this one Morty as much as he (claims to) hate it.

The kid is so broken already, having witnessed so many versions of his grandpa die, which Rick realizes after a while would just make it easier for him to reassemble him anew and mold him how he wants it. He's a sick bastard but if it aint broke dont fix it and especially dont fix it if it promises to always stay by your side and begs you not to leave

The whole "unlucky charm" curse only serves to fuel Rick's ego too because, unlike all these previous Ricks he only knows about on paper, *he* hasn't died yet with this shitty excuse of a Morty around him. which makes him better than all those before him. He's cocky, priding himself on living where those Ricks failed.

He gets too confident, as all Ricks do, and after a few too-close brushes with death he does decide to invest into various failsafes and "upgrading" Morty to a standard he sees fit. This is when Morty gets the tracker arm enhancement and various other augmentations that'll essentially turn him into a lifeline for Rick. He's driven by anxiety of his past mistakes, past deaths of Ricks, repeating. This time there'd be no scolding by teachers and new Rick two weeks later. There'd only be grief, and nothing.

Morty's trained not only in combat and survival skills but also shown how to reboot and even replace certain cybernetic parts of Rick's body.

surgery, baby!

Not on a clone, not a simulation, the real him. Train for the real deal.

They spend weeks in the newly constructed underground labs, Morty cutting him open and putting him back together; surgeries upon surgeries without any anesthetic so that Rick is fully aware and awake to guide Morty through it.

Eventually Morty does have to put those skills to the test when shit goes wrong on an adventure, but this is already so long so I'll spare you!! I'd be surprised if you read to here, if you did, thank you and I'm glad you're interested in my little guys !!

[therese-lokidottir]

Btw why every single fan fiction I seeing (not all but many) is Tony stans? I meant they always put Tony in good light and 'oh poor baby' and worst of it they make other characters be worst and top of it is steve

Now, everyone have free will to writing what they want but come on, it's getting annoying. Specially it's so clear Tony is never good person, sure he have his good moments but the rest? He not nice to he so called close friends and lover

And Steve? Please just because he is a soldier didn't meant he is bad, I meant sure American soldiers and soldiers generally have bad reputation, but Steven prove it he more just a soldier, he is a man.

Also it's kind bothering me while this issue never been showing it but Steve is quite religius person and Tony is atheist. And now I am no want make some kind hateful comments but I feel little bit got insulted by it.

I meant if you have religion didn't make you good person but well they make Steve like that and hate him sound like imply something

I don't think Tony Stark is bad. I think he is a wonderfully complex character when written well when written within his film series. But then Civil War happened and then the MCU Spider-Man movies had to make the choices that they made.

In the original Iron Man film Tony is egotistical, he is selfish and he is a complete mess but he is still a man with a heart. He is genuinely remorseful for what his weapons have done and he wants to change and do good. Tony is a man who struggles with his ego and with being vulnerable. He has trouble letting down those walls even to his best friends who have stood by him through so much, he's still scared.

In the Iron Man films, those were flaws Tony needed to learn from. Tony needed to learn and grow and you do see that. But then CA: CW didn't quite get that. Tony does have compassion, he does have sympathy for people. But in CA: CW it's more about guilt than it is about responsibility and self-reflection. He gets called out but some mom, but was this not something Tony Stark was struggling with? Was he not already giving to the relief efforts?

People can argue that Steve was doing wrong things in CA: CW, he was breaking laws regardless of the accords, but Tony consciously does things that question if the accords have any legitimacy in the first place. He uses an untrained 15-year-old for backup without giving them full details of the situation and lying to their legal guardian. Tony's team initiates the fight and causes collateral damage because he's permitted to do so. Lastly, he ends up snapping and trying to murder someone and he never has to face repercussions for that, legal ones I mean. He's pushing for the accords while it's clear he doesn't have to abide by why they are supposed to be there.

Contrasting all that to Steve desperately trying to help his friend, consoles someone facing eminence guilt, and allows others to leave without judgment while giving them the full story, does make Steve seem a lot nicer and more human. Bucky was brainwashed, abused, and used by Hydra and the reason they could do that was because Howard Stark used Hydra members to build S.H.I.E.L.D. All because he thought it was acceptable to for the sake of protecting the world.

The problem with Tony's "mentorship" of Peter is he treats Peter more like a project than someone who is their own independent person he's meant to be guiding and pointing in the right direction. Of course, there is the metatextual problem of shifting from billionaires the bad guys to working-class bad guys in the franchise about the hero who is usually the working-class street-level hero.

The MCU really seemed to forget Tony was an ass he needed to be better. He ends up never learning and the MCU seemed to forget Tony's ego was both bad and annoying, and also kind of a coping mechanism and cover Tony was using to deal with his issues.

[aita-blorbos]

(AU of canon background lore)

AITA for dethroning and trying to kill my twin brother?

My preemptive apologies. This is going to be quite lengthy, as there are many things to cover.

My brother and I (both 20M) jointly rule our region. We took power a while ago after leading a rebellion against the previous king D (50sM), who was extremely cruel; some of the things he did include laws to execute and/or torture dissenters, sending soldiers to raid and destroy poor villages and killing most of his family in an effort to protect his position.

Our rebellion was popular among the people, in part because we, or rather I, swore to change things and end the suffering of the people - between myself and my brother, I was the recruiter, as I'm a better public speaker. Also, we had the help of a dragon god who descended from the heavens to aid our cause, so people actually believed we had a chance.

Anyway, we overthrew D and became the new kings - we agreed to rule together, given we're twins and had always worked best as a team. I thought that now we were in charge, we could cast away the old, oppressive practices that D had set in place and create a kinder world. But my brother is the main lawmaker, and he continued with the exact same set of laws even after we took the throne - nothing had changed for the people. This was a betrayal to all the innocent people who joined and fought for us and our cause. I told him that, but he waved me off and said it was to maintain law and order. Not only that, but I found out multiple things he had been keeping from me all this while:

I had always assumed we were simply orphans whose parents, like so many others, were killed by D. I don't remember them because of an old head injury, but my brother does. As it turns out, we're also D's nephews. I only found out after we jailed D and he told me, even showed me proof of our heritage. My brother never once told me. And here I had been, telling people that our reign was a new era free from D's legacy, only to find out we have the same blood anyway.

In addition, and more horrifyingly, I found out that during our time leading the rebellion, my brother had been killing people within our ranks who could potentially pose a threat to our leadership. He says it was to maintain a united front, but these were brilliant people on our side who were executed just for having different ideas from us.

Thinking about it, my brother is not so different from D. He maintains the same cruel status quo that I had promised to destroy. If I am to change things for the better to make an ideal world, I have to remove him. The more I see the brutal way he treats others besides me, the easier it is to steel my resolve.

When we last held court, I denounced his inaction and cruelty publicly, making it clear that I was rebelling against him. It's a long story, but after a whole lot of fighting, it was clear that the bulk of the populace also hates him, and he fled with a few of his loyalists. The dragon god who had helped us was apparently so torn between which of us to support that They divided Themself into two dragons, R and Z, each one taking a side. Now, my brother is effectively exiled, but still keeps fighting back alongside his dragon, R, trying to retake his position.

Our region is embroiled in civil war yet again, only shortly after we thought we had achieved peace. The fighting between the dragons has scorched the earth, and soldiers clash in the streets. Our region is no better off than before we overthrew D. And, of course, I might have to kill my brother to quash this faction of people so intent on preserving the old status quo which has caused so much harm.

Suffice to say, I am not as certain of my actions as I should be. My brother has always been my protector and best friend, and I know he sacrificed a lot for me. And here I am, repaying his care by rising against him and killing him. But for the sake of an ideal world for our people, I have to oppose him. I cannot betray the other people who fought and died for our - or, as it turns out, my - vision of a better world.

AITA?

[dowhatteverer]

An honest critique of FRWBY by someone who actually watched it and was willing to give it a chance

Ok so LF and CS have proven themselves to be disingenuous liars who go out of their way to make rewrites of RWBY look poorly written and bigoted because they have diluted themselves into believing that the show doesn't carry all of the same problems that they accuse these rewrites of having. That being said, Fixing RWBY does happen to carry over a lot of problems from the original show. While I personally believe that Fixing RWBY is a better story structurally from RWBY proper, that doesn't mean that it didn't keep many of the flaws associated with the original show. This is not a defense of FRWBY, nor is it really a bashing because I will come right out and say that I do actively enjoy it and am excited to keep up with its version of volume six. I wouldn't recommend it to any of the people I interact with a lot on Tumblr simply because it's definitely not something they would like very much.

It's impressive how much passion is put into this project honestly, seeing all these fans come together to take the time out of their days without payment just to create something they care about. I definitely think the art and animations are some of the best parts of FRWBY. And I think the story does a far better job of utilizing the amount of characters that the show already had without constantly adding new ones that are completely unnecessary. It also makes a lot of changes to the characters interactions and relationships with other characters that I appreciate. I like that Weiss's time in the Brawnwen was changed from being held prisoner and threatened, to being a taste of freedom and potential new life for herself that she eventually had to ditch for the sake of her friends and the mission. And I really liked Changing Vernal to be Yang's secret half sister and having her develop a friendship with Weiss, it did a lot more to make her death feel more impactful by making her a character that the audience has to care about because these other characters care about her, and goes a long way of proving how selfish and short-sighted Raven could be where her own arrogance and desires ultimately ended up getting her own daughter killed and the tribe she chose over her own husband and first daughter to leave her. And I'm actually quite happy with Roman being Ozpin's host, I think it's handled pretty well and in a way that doesn't overshadow Ruby at all. One change that I thought was pretty cool from a story and representation perspective was having Neo use ASL and have Yang also learn it with her during her recovery period (which was actually a recovery period thank God, not just a showcase of her suffering and then just being fine without seeing her journey). And one thing that I like by default is it going out of its way to humanize Ironwood. That's always an A+ in my book as an Ironwood fan.

Now let's get into the bad stuff that is actually worth criticizing and not just sweeping under the rug just because LF and CS are lying liars who lie.

First and foremost, the Faunus plotline.

I don't like it.

There was very little effort put in to change the actual problems with the Faunus plotline in the actual show. The White Fang are still the bad guys, Blake is at the same time, still a rich princess with parents who love her, and Racism in Remnant is explicitly stated to be an individual to individual thing (though in a Livestream Celtic Phoenix said that racism in Atlas is systemic, so I'm holding out a little bit of hope that will at least be treated like a big deal) and still far more fighting against civil rights activists than fighting actual racists.

There's some interesting stuff in the beginning with Cardin starting out pretty racist, but after being forced to do some actual research on the subject and finding that his views have no historical or scientific basis quickly changing his mind about it and growing into a better person, but that's not enough to forgive the rest of it.

Effort is being put in to make Adam a more dynamic character who seems to have an explicit tragic backstory regarding the racism he faced (and not just implied with his nasty hate crime scar) but that actually makes the whole thing kind of worse. Because I kid you not, in the final episodes of the volume 5 rewrite, when the White fang is defeated, Blake tells Adam, "this isn't the world your mother grew up in anymore" and I'm just like, Adam's mom is implied to have been a Slave woman who was abused and possibly killed by her owner! Who is Blake, in her mansion on an ethnostate where she never had to face racism or cruelty or worry for a family member's safety, to tell Adam how he should react to Racism?! And I know that the reason she has to stop him in the rewrite is because the White Fang are trying to stage a cou that would lead to a war that would cost far more faunus lives than do good for them, but that doesn't change the fact that it's extremely tone deaf that it was Blake who is telling him this when her backstory hasn't been changed at all.

Either make the White Fang the good guys, or make Blake an orphan who has had to experience racism and cruelty her whole life, because you can't have both and still have a story that doesn't feel jarring and pro establishment as hell.

Next, the cultural appropriation. Taking inspiration from multiple Asian cultures for Mistral is kind of unavoidable since Mistral itself is fundamentally meant to be based on a multitude of Asian cultures. (I personally try to mitigate this problem by having different parts of Mistral be based on different Asian countries, and do the same for the other kingdoms too) but I think we all remember the thing about the Brawnwen tribe from a few months ago. Since the Ainu people are heavily discriminated against in Japan and stereotyped as being bandits and thieves, having the Brawnwen tribe be inspired by them in some aspects is definitely a bad thing. It was especially a problem when that cultural appropriation was also misinterpreted and used without fully understanding the culture of what the traditional bear was. And then the attempt to crack down and defend that was just a bad look altogether.

And to bring up the Shay D Mann and Ren and Roman bathroom scene, these are things that I think the creator just didn't realize could come across as queerphobic or a bad look for the character. The joke about Roman not realizing that Ren is a man and then having a conversation about all of tells that would have tipped him off about Ren being a guy and then having them be rebuttaled (at one point pointing out that Weiss has small boobs and that doesn't make her less of a woman, which while I think was well intentioned was just uncomfortable in general) was just in poor taste. And Shiloh (as he's called in FRWBY) didn't need to still be showcased sexually harassing Yang. He was actively physically and verbally abusing the man at register anyway in the rewrite, Yang could have just done the heroic thing and punched him to protect the civilian, instead of trying to ignore him while he comments on her figure and then saying something incredibly abelist about her prosthetic before being thrown out by Neo and her umbrella. Although It's not necessary to make all of your important characters good people. So I guess this has a lot more to do with how you feel about bad people still being important and sympathetic characters. Though I wouldn't say Shiloh is that important to Volume 5, all he really does is provide some Vernal backstory, serve as some comic relief, and is the one who ultimately decides for the tribe to leave Raven after she gets his daughter killed.

If I were to defend these choices, instead of trying to claim that Shiloh didn't sexually harass Yang (which was honestly far more present in the rewrite, no actual dialogue but he is described as complimenting her figure) and that lesbians are stupid, I would instead say that a character doesn't have to be a good perfectly squeaky clean non problematic person to be a character who isn't necessarily a villain. Or alternatively I could just acknowledge that it was unnecessary to have him actively sexually harass a girl his daughter's age because there was already something else that could have been used to show that he wasn't a good person and end up bouncing right out of the gas station anyway.

I think that's everything I want to talk about, because combing through all of it would be like rewatching an eight hour show and taking notes the whole time and I don't have much time for that.

But all in all, FRWBY isn't above criticism just because it's a rewrite of RWBY and has some aspects that deserve to be criticized, but it's also not the worst most biggoted thing in the world. I like aspects of it, but I honestly like other rewrites better. It honestly just feels like watching the original show if the original show had a more coherent story but didn't change any of the more problematic aspects.

So yeah, there's my review. I'll tell you how I felt about Volume six when it's over.

[meeda]

I really hate that today left such a bad taste in my mouth because I make conscious efforts to never let other people have control over me. But today I allowed my ex to bully me one more time, hopefully for the last time.

He has always been a bully. In the few years we were together he degraded me constantly, disrespected my boundaries, compared my body to those of IG models, gleefully humiliated me in front of my friends, talked down on me, called me names and slurs, and overall was just a massive shithead towards me. Now today, of all days, for whatever reason, he felt the need to bully me all over again. For no fucking reason, other than to start shit and take out whatever anger and hate he harbored over the last five years since I broke things off.

Under the guise of having a political discussion about the upcoming election, he started off with small jabs at my political views. Not a big deal, I’m pretty far left compared to most people in my life so I’m used to odd comments about it. Then it slowly became more apparent that he wasn’t interested in a debate about Trump or Harris or whatever. He went after my gender/pronouns, made gross misogynist comments about Harris knowing I wouldn’t let that slide, and then went on a whole transphobic rant that was entirely uncalled for. He did it all knowing it would get a response from me, and I fell right into his trap.

I should have known he was bullying me when he responded to my attempts at a civil debate with ad hominem attacks on my character, identity, and even my friends? I was trying to be the bigger person. I was trying to show that no matter how much he tried to break me, I wouldn’t stoop to his level. The worst thing I did was call his beliefs hateful and harmful, but I never once attacked him. No matter. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to win the argument through discourse, when I had refuted all of his points with reason and empathy, he resorted to name calling and calling me ableist slurs. Literally a grown ass 35 year old man with the mentality of a middle school bully. It was pathetic. So I told him I’d rather be retarded than heartless like him, and blocked him.

I almost never block people. You have to be a real piece of shit for me to want to block you. In fact, this is only the second time I’ve ever blocked someone in all my years of being online. The first time was because the person in question posed a threat to my safety. This time, it was from years of cruel and abusive treatment. I gotta say though, I thought that blocking him would feel a lot better than it does. I still worry that he’ll find my other socials, or reach out to people close to me, or find some way to get in contact with me again. But for the sake of my sanity I have to believe it’s finally all over. I’m free from him, again. And this time, without the tears.

[hippielittlemetalhead]

I should be working on my Punk!Steve thingy and I will but first I am running on enough caffeine to stop an elephant's heart and 3 hours of sleep and I had a ✨thought✨.

Son of Hades Steve but more Bianca di Angelo than Nico. He's charming and charismatic but even if people like him there's still that sense of Other and people fear what he's capable of (King Steve) and the stereotype that he's bad luck and not like other demigods and almost less human than them (relationship with Nancy and the bullshit scene). His parents know and his stepdad refuses to acknowledge him more than he needs to and his mom resents him for ruining her marriage even though she's the one who revenge cheated in retaliation for her husband sleeping with another secretary. So they send him to Camp Half Blood as soon as possible and he is there the majority of the year.

And

Son of Artemis Eddie. BECAUSE in many ancient civilizations the words/phrases we translate to virgin would be closer to unwed young woman rather than never slept with someone. Because Artemis has a lover, Orion but upon his death vows to never wed and declares herself a maiden/virgin goddess. So either like copying Athena in PJO or via the occasional ONS she has a handful of kids. We'll say for easiness sake she 99.9999% of the time has girls that she keeps as part of her hunters. The occasional .0001% that's a boy she sends to the father or the camp. Eddie was left on his father's doorstep in a soft grey woven bassinet and swaddled in silver cloth that seemed to glow with the light of the full moon. His dad isn't the best but once he was delivered Artemis didn't really check in with him and only finds out he'd been sent to his Uncle Wayne (who can see through the Mist) when one of her hunters who was working with CHB sees and recognizes him as a child of her Lady and reports back to Artemis. She claims him at the campfire the next full moon and he immediately starts calling only the Apollo kids cousins and they sort of adopt him as one of their own right back when he proves to be terrible at anything related to either his mother or uncle except taking care of kids (he is great at helping with little ones who are new to the camp or have to visit the infirmary) and/or animals, being the type to take little lost campers under his wing and a talent for music that would rival the most gifted of Apollo's cabin.

A la PJO style we meet our heroes around the ages 11-12, Steve had been in and out of the camp routinely since he was literally a toddler. He was found at daycare by a kind nymph who went by Claudia and her satyr toddler (Dustin 😏) and told the Harringtons about the camp. She did not expect them to basically send their 3 year old to boarding school most of the summer.

Dustin later found Eddie on his own since he was now technically 9 to Eddie's 12 but still physically pretty toddler looking it took some effort and Claudia had to intervene when she finally found her son and explain to the nice mortal man and his demigod nephew about Eddie being of Greek god descent and that with the rise of monsters trying to get at him already he should go to the camp for a bit to train. Dustin would stay at the camp with Eddie partially as punishment for running off and partially to help him acclimate and make sure Eddie was on time for when Claudia helped Wayne Iris message Eddie. Eddie is maybe 13 and been at camp for about a year when he gets claimed.

That's all I've got really besides Steve and Eddie try being friends cause they're both odd kids out w/who their parents are but it's a little out of nowhere after a year knowing of each other rather than knowing each other but also Steve has powers and charisma and that makes him worth hanging out with to majority of campers where Eddie can get kids to stop crying and is a Disney princess with how much animals like him. There's some animosity cause Steve is jealous Dustin is spending so much time with Eddie, especially when they and some of the other campers and younger satyrs discover DND and Eddie feels rejected cause they didn't click at all and his emotionally traumatized little ass made that Steve's fault. Till they're 16 and 17 and assigned a quest with Dustin as their satyr and third and they have to learn to get along and realize how much they have in common like the fear of what comes next when they age out of being campers and yeah Steddie happens and Dustin is smug.

Also Eddie learns completely by accident he can basically use music as a weapon DND bard style and he is way too happy about it and so pissed he didn't think of that sooner.

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

I saw a post from a certain #girlblogger who irritates the hell out of me but whose question I nevertheless feel compelled to answer speculatively, which is why it is that God identifies as our Father, originally asked with a lot of question marks and then fervently repeated as if waiting for a particular answer that perhaps she alone can provide to her satisfaction.

This is something about which I wonder too, and my answer, which sounds flip, is that God identifies as our Father because He is far away.

I will now indulge in being extremely weird in explaining myself:

I’m going to take for granted that God chose to identify as Father, that this appellation is well considered, and that this is not something put on Him by sexist patriarchal civilizations, which is perhaps the answer the #girlbloggers would like. I am also going to engage in wild generalizations for the sake of making a point. I am sure if you read this with the desire to catch me in a technicality you will do so and I am sure your pleasure in so doing will be commensurate with the effort.

God is not a man, or a woman, He is not male or female. I do not know how deep the metaphor goes. I do not know the metaphysical relationship between masculine and male and feminine and female, and I do not know the metaphysical relationship between God the unfathomable Ultimate Reality and the title “Father” and its associated pronouns. God made both male and female in His image, and so He contains both. Perhaps when God breathed life into Adam, He (She?) was, in that capacity, Adam’s mother, and the Bible shows us aspects of God that we might consider feminine. For example, in Matthew 23:37 Jesus says, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.”

But God is our Father in that I think there is a fundamental gulf between God the Almighty and Man the creation. God is alienated from us in the way that a father is alienated from the child. Or perhaps better, we are alienated from God as the child is alienated from the father. A child’s connection with the mother is immediate and constantly enforced, it is there from the beginning and--this is the key--the child knows. The father, despite providing the seed, and in that sense being the first mover to whom the child owes its spark of life, and despite having been there since the beginning, is, at first, a more unknown quality. Over the course of the child’s life, the child grows in understanding of the father and the child’s consciousness of the father’s significance increases with age.

Though God perhaps is our Mother in the sense that our life is sustained from conception by God, we do not perceive this. We grow in our understanding and grasp of God and of God’s significance. The limitation here is not God’s, but Man’s. We cannot understand at first, we grow into that understanding. A child grows in their understanding of their father, and this is not the limitation of the father, but the child. 

Now I will indulge in being weirder and speculate that God as Father has a yet greater metaphysical depth, but I am really going out on a limb here

I think that there is another way of thinking of God the Father and it has to do with the whole Father Sky / Mother Earth trope of myth. Why should we consider God our Mother? What is the ultimate Motherly reality we wish to attribute to God? Maybe one would prefer to think of God as Mother because of discomfort with (or hatred of) male pronouns but I would suspect we  would want to make this link specifically because we think of the Mother as the source of Life, and God is the source of Life. The Earth is our Mother because it creates and sustains Life--Nature is a Mother because it creates and sustains Life.

But the Universe is not only Life, and is in fact far larger than Life. God could call Himself “He” and our Father in His capacity as a “first mover,” in that He not only creates Life, but the conditions for Life. In the way that we might consider Man’s role not only the protection of the home and protection of the family but the creation of the conditions in which a family can exist, and we might consider Men, en masse, as the creators of the base conditions of civilization in which Life and Culture flourish, so also God creates the laws of physics and the atoms and the minerals out of which Life can ultimately arise. Men also plant the seed of Life, though they cannot make it grow, and in this more intimate sense are the first-mover for Life as well. (Men also determine the sex of the child, because only men have both chromosomes. So both men and women come, in that sense, from men, and in this there is perhaps some hint in God’s traditional pronouns, but I’m not sure.)

Now I think it is undeniable that Life requires all these physical preconditions but it does not follow that these physical preconditions therefore create Life, which takes something else. Men need Women to take those base conditions and create Life. The first-mover role is essential but insufficient, or rather, not self-sufficient.

So, while God’s capacity to create and sustain Life may be feminine, it may also be accurate to characterize Him as masculine in the sense that he also first creates the conditions in which Life occurs and is the seed of that life.

TL;DR God is our Father in that God is the initiator, the first-mover.

[mariacallous]

Heading west from Baghdad, the capital’s bumpy roads turn into a well-lit, smoothly paved three-lane highway rarely seen in Iraq. Every so often, billboards adorned with slick pictures of Mohammed al-Halbousi credit Iraq’s recently deposed speaker of parliament with the reconstruction of Anbar, his home province.

“Halbousi restored the prestige of the Sunnis and of the province,” said Hamed Albu Alwan, a tribal elder who supports him. Outside the entrance to his spacious diwan (where tribal gatherings take place) in Anbar’s capital, Ramadi, workers toiled away in the midday sun as they covered the road with a fresh layer of shiny asphalt. “If we had three to four leaders like him, Iraq could become a normal country again,” the sheikh said.

Anbar saw some of the fiercest fighting in the wake of the 2003 U.S. invasion and again a decade later, when the war against the Islamic State ravaged its cities. But in contrast to other Sunni areas that suffered a similar fate, Iraq’s westernmost province has seen remarkable development in recent years. This reconstruction boom, some of it financed by the U.S. government as part of a U.N. reconstruction program, has coincided with the extraordinary ascent of the most powerful Sunni politician since Saddam Hussein’s overthrow.

Within just four years of entering politics in 2014, the now 42-year-old Halbousi rose from a little-known businessman to speaker of parliament, the most senior Sunni post in Shiite-majority Iraq. Halbousi held that position since 2018 until recently, making him the only Iraqi politician to serve more than one term since the 2003 U.S.-led invasion. But his success in consolidating power has fomented a backlash among Sunnis and Shiites alike.

Last Tuesday, Iraq’s federal court issued a ruling terminating Halbousi’s membership of parliament, the culmination of months of power struggle between the speaker and a growing lineup of rivals. Halbousi was found guilty of forgery in a case filed by former member of parliament Laith al-Dulaimi, who accused Halbousi of using a fake resignation letter to blackmail him.

“He has begun to enslave the MPs,” Laith al-Dulaimi told Foreign Policy when he filed the case in early 2023. Dulaimi said that ahead of the 2021 parliamentary election, Halbousi forced him and others to sign blank letters, which he used when they deviated from the party line. “He targets any voice that challenges him. All the authority, all the money must be for him only.” In a statement, Halbousi’s party alleged political targeting and called the court decision a “flagrant violation of the constitution.”

The court case was just one of several, simultaneous efforts to depose Halbousi amid a myriad of grievances documented by Foreign Policy. In wide-ranging interviews, seven tribal leaders, nine politicians, eight officials and three members of civil society paint a picture of pervasive state capture at the hands of a politician whom almost all of the interviewees allege has built a political and economic empire through embezzlement of public funds and the use of force.

Halbousi stands accused of throwing rivals into jail, punishing critics with arrest warrants under Iraq’s sweeping anti-defamation laws, and disqualifying rivals from elections by abusing harsh de-Baathification provisions that forbid members of the former regime from participating in the political process, according to interviews and documents seen by Foreign Policy. Halbousi and his office have not replied to repeated requests for interviews.

Taken individually, none of the tactics in Halbousi’s arsenal are particularly unusual. To the contrary, they largely follow a well-worn playbook that has become the defining legacy of the U.S.-led invasion. Iraq is one of the world’s most corrupt nations, where officials tend to exploit their positions for the sake of self-enrichment and to build patronage networks that will entrench them in the halls of power. But few Iraqi politicians, let alone a Sunni one, have mastered state capture quite as successfully.

Even though the role of the speaker is to head the parliament, Halbousi remained the de facto executive authority in Anbar long after he left his previous post as governor and has managed to establish what some describe as one-party rule in the province, with government posts, services, and success in elections contingent on support for his Progress Party.

“He intervenes in the process of replacing and changing security or administrative leaders and in the mechanisms of disbursing the budget and its projects,” said Salim al-Jabouri, a senior Sunni politician who served as speaker before Halbousi.

Interviewees, some of whom spoke on condition of anonymity, described three major alleged corruption schemes. Halbousi and his lieutenants are said to have monopolized the allocation of government contracts, channeling them to companies owned by relatives or loyalists in return for kickbacks. They also stand accused of diverting funds intended for beneficiaries of social security schemes, such as pensioners or victims of Islamic State, and illegally selling off public land to private investors.

According to the majority of interviewees, the Reconstruction Fund for Areas Affected by Terrorist Operations, worth around $800 million, appears to have been used to fuel Halbousi’s patronage network. “The fund is controlled by the speaker of parliament, Mohammed Al-Halbousi,” said an employee who spoke on condition of anonymity in fear of reprisals. “He has turned the fund into a way to buy the loyalty of the security forces. He gives them cars so he can call them and say, arrest this guy or that guy.”

Foreign Policy has reviewed documents that show the allocation of $4.6 million for the provision of vehicles to local security and intelligence organs. (Including $3.1 million for Anbar’s intelligence service and $1.5 million for Anbar’s branch of national security agency, despite the fact that money from the reconstruction fund is meant for the rebuilding of houses, bridges, and schools.)

Since he took power in October last year, Prime Minister Mohammed al-Sudani has begun to claw back Halbousi’s executive powers by dismissing his loyalists and investigating corruption allegations in Anbar. In June, al-Sudani dismissed the reconstruction fund’s manager due to allegations of fraud and corruption. Several low-level government officials, who have been taken into custody as part of a separate investigation into allegations of illegal sale of land in Anbar, reportedly confessed they were acting at Halbousi’s behest, according to a local sheikh and an official who spoke with the investigators.

An engineer by training and a former U.S. contractor, Halbousi is part of a new generation of Sunni leaders who built their political base with money. What has set him apart from the rest of the pack is his intellect, drive, and ability to strike deals at the right time. He took advantage of a series of crises that have buffeted Iraq over the recent decade, including the war with the Islamic State, the October 2019 demonstrations, and the U.S.-Iran tensions that turned Iraq into a battleground for a global power struggle.

When he first ran for parliament in 2014, the Sunni political establishment was in disarray, its constituents displaced, its land ravaged by war. Halbousi—a young, liberal, up-and-coming politician—successfully positioned himself as an antidote to Anbar’s downfall.

In 2017, he secured the support of Anbar’s provincial council and was appointed governor. The completion of hundreds of U.N. projects came in handy, allowing Halbousi to advertise himself as the man who could get things done. “He showed up just in time to cut the ribbon,” said one former governor, adding that many of the projects had kicked off well before Halbousi’s tenure.

Halbousi’s well-advertised though short stint as governor (he was in power only for a year) served him well as campaigning kicked off for the 2018 parliamentary election. He founded his own party, won six out of 329 seats and, facing some opposition among Sunnis, successfully courted the Shiite leaders who had emerged victors from the battlefield with the Islamic State to win the speakership.

“There was a leadership vacuum among the Sunnis. The Shia started build what they need. They chose the one who is weak, who will be close to them, the one who has no cause,” said a former speaker of Iraq’s parliament, who wished to remain anonymous.

In an anecdote that is often told during late-evening conversations at the residences of senior politicians to illustrate Shiite efforts to find a Sunni ally to do their bidding, Halbousi allegedly pledged support to the late paramilitary leader Abu Mahdi al-Mohandis and Iranian Gen. Qassem Suleimani—both of whom were killed two years later in a U.S. drone strike near Baghdad airport. In return for the speakership, Halbousi reportedly vowed to support the institutionalization of the paramilitaries, called the Popular Mobilization Forces, and safeguard their strategic presence in Sunni areas where they had fought the Islamic State.

Shortly after Halbousi assumed his new role as speaker, changing winds once again strengthened his hand. Mass protests erupted in 2019 across Iraq’s south, rattling the foundations of the post-2003 political order in what became known as the October Revolution. Throngs of Shiite youths took to the streets, demanding an end to corruption and the downfall of the ruling elite. While Shiite politicians focused on crushing the movement, Halbousi quietly broadened his remit, aided by the weakness of two successive governments that permitted encroachment on executive powers.

During Prime Minister Mustafa al-Kadhimi’s administration in particular, Halbousi extended his reach deep into the executive branch. Kadhimi gave Halbousi free rein to run affairs in Sunni areas, including the ability to control appointments to senior security and government posts in Anbar, such as the head of the police or the regional joint operations command, according to numerous sources.

“He was stronger than the Prime Minister,” said Khalid al-Obaidi, who served as Iraq’s defense minister between 2014 and 2016. “Anything Halbousi wanted to implement in Sunni governorates was implemented without Kadhimi’s interference.”

The more power that Halbousi consolidated, the more he deviated from customary principles of power sharing that govern Iraq and Anbar’s tribal society. “He uses money and power. You’re either with him or against him, there’s no middle ground for solutions,” said Sattar al-Jumeili, the leader of the Jumeili tribe, which used to constitute the majority of the local council in Halbousi’s hometown of Garmah before he oversaw a vote to dissolve the councils in 2019.

Halbousi hails from a relatively insignificant tribe in Anbar, an anomaly that he has skillfully overcome by striking deals with Shiite politicians and by courting Gulf countries that see him as a useful partner to further their geopolitical interests. “The man is reliable, and I believe there’s consensus on this in the region,” said one Arab diplomat in Baghdad, who spoke on condition of anonymity.

At home, however, many Sunnis feel that Halbousi has sold their cause for the sake of remaining in power. Despite his long tenure as the head of the legislature, critics say he has not tackled a list of long-running Sunni grievances, such as the abolition of the de-Baathification process and better representation of Sunnis in government and the security apparatus. “He has failed to lead the Sunnis,” said the former speaker of parliament. “He’s behaving like a party boss, not like a speaker.”

Senior Sunni politicians lament that under Halbousi’s leadership, the country’s legislative branch had become less effective, thus eroding the foundations of Iraq’s fragile democracy. “It’s not in our interest for Halbousi to represent the Iraqi parliament. Right now, parliament has no value,” said al-Obaidi, who currently serves on the parliament’s security and defense committee. “The parliament committees are all idle,” he said, adding that their heads have been chosen based on loyalty rather than competence. Two former speakers agreed that the parliament isn’t functioning.

At the beginning of this year, a campaign to unseat Halbousi started to gain momentum in Anbar. On a Friday in May, thousands of men gathered on a sprawling, dusty field near Fallujah to attend a rally organized by Halbousi’s opponents. The so-called United Anbar alliance is spearheaded by a motley of former Sunni governors, ministers, and tribal leaders, and it’s reportedly backed by Shiite politicians who sought to weaken Halbousi’s base in his home province.

Standing atop a stage, a number of officials took turns addressing the crowd. “It is the mistake of those who think that they are the master of Fallujah,” said Jamal al-Karbouli, the leader of the alliance, drawing a parallel between Halbousi’s rule and the U.S. occupation, which the city famously resisted. “We are here today to correct the course and launch a project to restore the rights of Fallujah.”

Karbouli, a political and business heavyweight, helped Halbousi get a foothold in politics back in 2014, only to watch his protégé rebel against him. In 2021, Karbouli was arrested and tortured by an anti-corruption squad used by Kadhimi’s government to go after political opponents. Karbouli and others believe the arrest happened on Halbousi’s orders.

“They disappeared me for five months, with Kadhimi’s agreement, so that Halbousi could win,” Karbouli told Foreign Policy. Karbouli was released without charges shortly after that year’s parliamentary elections.

Karbouli’s arrest is just one example of what some describe as a systemic campaign to crush opposition that has earned Halbousi monikers such as “dictator” or “the new Saddam.” Activists and civilians in Anbar have faced increased intimidation and threats for criticizing authorities on social media. Tribal sheikhs who complained about land grabs or marginalization were summoned by the police chief or charged under archaic Baath-era defamation laws.

But Halbousi’s eventual downfall wasn’t the product of popular discontent in his home province or among Iraq’s Sunnis. In a move that would have sidelined his former Shiite backers, Halbousi agreed in 2021 to form a majority government with populist Shiite cleric Muqtada al-Sadr. The alliance was seen as an unprecedented effort by a Sunni to usurp Shiite majority rule by fomenting intra-Shiite rivalries.

Months of political deadlock were ultimately settled through a brief but violent confrontation between rival Shiite factions, which left Sadr defeated and shut out of the political process. Halbousi quickly pivoted back to the Coordination Framework, the Shiite alliance that then formed the ruling coalition. A year on, Halbousi’s turncoat brand of politics appears to have caught up with him.

“He crossed a red line,” said the Arab diplomat. “It was the first time a Sunni tried to divide the Shia. This has not been forgotten.”