#the reveal is such an emotive few frames and I don't know why but my heart races each time I watch it

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

MY LITTLE OMEGA

KINKTOBER DAY 26 - OMEGAVERSE WITH RAYMOND LEON

Pairing.| Raymond Leon x fem!reader

Summary.| You go into heat early and your Alpha is forced to come home to relieve you.

Warnings.| Dubcon, heat, rutting, abo, slightly degrading, p in v, biting.

Word count.| 2k

Notes.| Okay I never read or write this type of thing, but it was interesting to do.

You shamefully humped Raymond’s pillow, his shirt covering the entirety of your head as you heavily inhaled his scent. But it was never enough, you needed him completely. When he entered your shared home, you immediately picked up on his strong sweet scent of midnight rain. The Omega inside of you wanted to run to him, but the anger you could sense in him made you loudly whimper as your hips rocked in a sloppy manner. 

The smell of your heat was fierce to Raymond’s nostrils, the scent of wet rocks infested his body as he strided down the hall. His head snapped to the nesting room, his jawline sharp as he stomped to you. The door was already wide open, your body completely bare as you mewled out, trying to reveal yourself of your agony. 

His menaceful Alpha voice rolled out your name. Like he casted a spell on you, your body froze, his damp pillow locked in between your thighs. Slowly, he stepped to you, his compelling blue eyes lingered over your exposed backside and how quickly it trembled to his touch. 

“I could smell you from across town, you’ve gone into heat early, why?” Raymond questioned, his tone threatening as he dropped to his knees onto the mattress of the platform bed. 

His large hand pulled the shirt off of your head. As you looked back at him with fearful eyes, he blinked at how full of tears they were. You were lost for words, stammering like a child caught eating from the cookie jar. 

“I-I don't know” you stammered quietly. 

“Don’t lie to me…” Raymond growled in a low volume, clicking his tongue as his hand rolled up and down your spine. 

“I forgot to take my meds!” You easily confessed, your voice full of guilt and humiliation. 

Raymond snarled at you, you whined painfully in return. 

The reason you were on suppressants was because Raymond had a busy month of work. If you went into heat likewise to him going into rut, it would ruin his schedule completely. But with him traveling down south without you, you were highly emotional of being all alone in your home. Even though Raymond would just blame it on you, it was a common side effect of the suppressants to be dependent on their bonded mate. The thoughts of him being gone for almost two weeks put you into a state of despair.

When you woke up from a deep sleep to realize you had forgotten to take your suppressants, your heart raced. It was only an hour late, but you had heard stories of Omega’s missing out on the time frame of only a few minutes and suffering the consequences. Those were only rumors though. Yet the chances were low but were now your reality. 

The moment you felt the first sign, you were in denial and continued on with your day. But when the fever sweats began to drip, cramps formed into a blade under your skin and slick trickled down your legs, you found yourself stuck in mayhem on what to do. 

The obvious solution was to call Raymond. But the knowing answer of him punishing you felt too horrifying and humiliating. Raymond did not allow you to possess any toys. For his arrogant behavior questioned why you’d need such mechanics when you had him to relieve you. So you just tried to block it all out. Two days you successfully spent in agony before he finally had a chance to call you. 

He could hear it in your tone despite the fact that you chose to use minimal words. 

“Little one, is there something you need to tell me?” he replied, resisting his growl over the line. 

You confessed immediately and Raymond almost hung up the phone just as quick. If his primal urges didn’t pull him back towards you like gravity, he would have made you suffer alone. But instead, like a good Alpha, he sped back home to care for you.  

Those silk-like hands teased your skin. Trailing up and down then side to side over your skin. Your back arched as you murmured out his name, almost foaming at the mouth. Suddenly, he slapped your rear harshly, making you yelp. 

“You’ve ruined my investigation little one… Do not think this will be enjoyable for you” Raymond growled. 

“I’m sorry Alpha!” You cried and lowered your body onto the bed as you hid your face in shame under his pillow. 

“How long have you been in heat?” Raymond tilted his head towards you as he slid off his leather jacket. 

“T-three days now” you spoke in hushed tones. 

“Fucking stupid bitch” Raymond muttered to himself. 

But you heard him perfectly, you whined loudly and squirmed over the mattress. Raymond quickly stripped nude and wrapped his front against your back. You purred out, his warmth eased your pain, bending your neck back as your back arched, you moved your ass into his erection.

“You’re so fucking lucky I wasn’t the only one on the case. But like they’ll be able to sniff out shit without me” Raymond snarled, nipping his teeth at the skin of your neck. “You’ve gotten my cock all riled up, your scent is fucking intoxicating!” He groaned out, burying his nose into your soft hair. 

“M’sorry!” You repeat yourself loudly.

“You’re gonna have to beg me for it” Raymond whispered into your ear. 

“No Raymond please! M-M’sorry! I’ve already been suffering for days!” you exclaimed, shaking your head at the thought of him tormenting you again. 

During many of your heats together, Raymond enjoyed playing with your state of agony at first. Your performance of begging for his touch was exhilarating. Whimpers and whines were likewise to angelic music to his ears. The way your needy hands tried to pull him towards you was amusing. 

You tried to wiggle your ass against his crotch but he held you down and kept his hips at distance. 

“You should have called me the moment you felt it” Raymond lectured.  

“I didn’t want to disturb you. I thought I could hold it off!” You explained pathetically, mewling like a baby. 

“Stupid Omega” Raymond insulted. Immediately, you whined again and Raymond pouted at you. “This is why you need me, little one…” he explained in a condescending tone. 

A hum was your only response as you nodded your head eagerly. It was true, you depended on him the moment you laid eyes on him. The bond was heavenly, the way your heart skipped a beat as you caught him watching you, almost ready to eat you alive. But it didn’t take you long to realize how frightening he could be, but then he could also be so loving. If you remained good, he’d treat you well. So it was time to comply and be his good girl. 

“Now, beg” Raymond ordered. 

“Alpha” you mewled dramatically.

“Yes Omega?” He teased. 

“Please! I need your cock inside of me, my walls are clenching so harshly! I need to squeeze around you” you spat out, licking your lips at the idea of his dick buried inside of you. Your eyes were fluttering, you felt like you were already drunk on his cock. 

“Sounds like a you problem” Raymond grinned.

Your scent was matchless, like the uncharted sanctuaries of earth that all explorers desired to uncover. Secretly, he could spend days pressing his nose to your hair as his hands would caress your waist. 

“Alpha please! Show me my place, remind me who I belong to” you begged, twisting your upper body to look back at him.  

“Remind you huh?” Raymond grunted, possessiveness flashing through his ocean blue eyes. You shuddered, fearing that you had made a poor choice of words. Trying to steer his suspicions elsewhere, you ended up just stammering to yourself. “You forget who you belong to?” Raymond tilted his head at you. 

“No!” you denied fearfully. 

“But you tell me to remind you, so you have forgotten, have you not?” Raymond questioned, his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. 

“No… I’m just trying to-” you squeaked, becoming too timid to speak. 

Raymond flipped you over and licked his lips. Your eyes felt almost compelled to look down to his member and you grumbled out, eagerly desiring to devour it. How could he make you beg in a moment where he craved you just as desperately. 

“Look at how fucking pathetic you look, drooling over my member…” Raymond scoffed condescendingly, his body stood tall as he smirked down at you. 

“Can I touch it?” you asked softly, eyes stuck on his throbbing member that leaked of precum. 

“Yes little one” he spoke softly, warmly. 

Quickly, you moved onto your knees and your hand reached out. You stroked him softly and slowly, gradually you picked up the pace and firmness. Raymond breathed out, his eyes fluttering as he watched you please his cock. 

After maneuvering you onto your back, Raymond kissed you passionately as he lined himself up to your entrance. Whilst keeping eye contact, Raymond pushed his member inside of you effortlessly, you were always so eager to take him completely. Then your muscles would contract after you had consumed him. 

Like animals, Raymond pounded himself into your clenching walls. You cried out in relief as you felt the tension in your core be replaced by pleasure. In your ear, Raymond whispered sweet words which had you gasping for more. Your fingertips ran up and down his broad back, nails teased at his firm skin. 

Other Alphas laughed when they found out Raymond had bonded with a Omega. Because well, Raymond lacked that caring trait. However, Raymond quite enjoyed being bonded with a Omega. Were you unbearable dependent on him? Yes. But Raymond had dated Alpha’s in the past and it felt like a constant battle for dominance. 

You however always submitted to him. You always knew your place. He’d never admit it, but Raymond enjoyed the comfort you gave him, likewise to the nurture he’d show you. The moments of intimacy and comfort you shared were relaxing and reassuring. 

“I haven’t taken my pills” Raymond confessed. 

Usually it was the females who took birth control. But Raymond’s ego made him believe that they would disobey him and stop their medications in hopes of being bred by him. But after being bonded to you, the idea of you being bred excited him. He had no worries that his offspring would be anything besides Alphas. 

“Do you think you’re ready to bear my pups?” Raymond questioned sternly.

“Raymond?” You whimpered, panic flashing through your eyes. 

“I’m going to breed you this heat. You’ll carry my child, you got it?” Raymond made known. 

“Yes Alpha!” You replied, immediately submitting yourself to him. 

This is what you wanted, this is what you were made for. To be his little obedient Omega and raise his children. It had felt like an eternity since you’d met him, even though it had only been a couple of months. 

“Good… You’re so fucking compelling, you know that right?” Raymond groaned out, feeling his rut pulsing. “If any other Alpha dares to sniff in this direction I’ll rip his fucking head off” Raymond snarled, a wave of jealousy and possessiveness crashed over him. 

“I belong to you Raymond!” You assured, cunt squeezing him so tightly. 

“Good girl, my obedient little Omega” Raymond praised with a wicked grin. 

Swiftly, you’re flipped onto your stomach and Raymond buried himself in completely. You moan out as your orgasm crashed over you, His teeth latched directly in between your shoulder and neck and you whined out, but the pain was coated in extra pleasure. 

Raymond groaned onto your flesh as he felt his member expand inside of you. His movements were forced to slow down to a complete stop as his seed shot deep into your womb. With the both of you painted in a coat of sweat, you’re carefully shifted onto your side, Raymond’s body connected to yours. His teeth release your skin and Raymond kisses your heated cheek before he buried his head into the crook of your neck. 

“I love you Raymond” you sniffled, eyes still blurred from your post orgasmic state. 

“Shush… Go to sleep little one” Raymond murmured.

[hrefna-the-raven]

I can handle myself, Raphael

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Words: 439

Summary: You meet Raphael outside the mausoleum but Raphael loses his temper for a moment, giving you a rare opportunity to get a glimpse behind that cold self-absorbed and arrogant façade.

"I can handle myself, Raphael", you huffed slightly annoyed.

If you didn't know any better, one might almost believe that he genuinely cared about your well-being, as if you were more than just a valuable asset, a strategically placed pawn in his twisted game.

"Don't be absurd", the cambion's lips curved into a smile, although his eyes remained fixed on yours, a flicker of sadness briefly passing through them, "I'm more than sure you'd be capable of defeating this enemy of mine but", his hand casually gestured towards your companions, "this is a deal between your bloodsucking friend and myself, so why don't y-"

"Listen devil!", you interrupted him rather rudely, "if you think that I-"

Your voice trailed off as his hand seized the fabric of your robe, and suddenly everything around you began to spin, the cries of your companions fading into the distance as you were pulled into a void of darkness.

After a few moments of frantic blinking, you found yourself in an expansive chamber adorned with walls painted a deep shade of crimson.

Raphael's grip on your robe remained firm as he forcefully propelled you towards a lavish king-sized bed framed in shimmering gold, his face contorted into a blend of irritation and seething rage, and as his human façade dissipates, his infernal form is unveiled - fiery wings unfurling and a menacing finger aimed in your direction.

"You listen to me now, little mouse!", he hissed, "I acknowledge your prowess in combat, but this Orthon poses a grave threat, and my involvement in this matter is driven by personal motives. I will not allow you to endanger your life for this cause!"

Raphael's gaze burned with anger as he shifted his focus between your eyes and your mouth, his breaths becoming more labored with each passing moment. A smug grin slowly crept across your face.

"Are you implying that you actually care about my well-being, even worry about me?", you playfully taunted.

Raphael suddenly became all too aware that he had come dangerously close to you during his outburst, trapping you on his bed, helpless and confined between his arms while his heavy, furious breath brushed against your pale complexion. With a defeated sigh, he slowly withdrew.

"Let's forget this ever happened," Raphael reverted back to his human form and clasped your hand. "I'll bring you back."

You tenderly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you placed a quick but gentle kiss upon his lips. "If the cat ever dares to truly reveal its hidden emotions for the mouse, it should be aware that the mouse will be patiently waiting."

[ineedtorantaboutjiangcheng]

Fuck, I'm here again. Goddammit. I've been doing well. I've been keeping Jiang Cheng off my mind (and my computer screen). Things have been peaceful.

And then today happened.

Again, a fic. Again, not naming names, both because that's rude and also because this issue is hardly specific to one fic alone. I've seen it many times.

But I've been pacing for half an hour, too agitated to keep reading, so I'm just gonna get this off my chest, and then skim through the fic 'til it stops talking about it.

I need to talk about the golden core reveal.

Specifically, I need to talk about an attitude I've seen cropping up recently in a lot of fics. (By recently, I don't mean it's only recent fics that do it, just that I've only noticed it recently.)

So it'll be a fic, usually canon divergent, but prior to the golden core reveal. Wen Ning or Wen Qing will often be involved (though I can think of a few times it was Lan Wangji). And the character, who knows the truth about the golden core transfer, will urge Wei Wuxian to tell Jiang Cheng.

They'll say "you have to tell him". They'll say "he'll find out eventually". They'll say "he deserves to know".

And... the fic will support this.

Will frame Wei Wuxian as irrational, paranoid even, to keep it secret.

Will sometimes even punish him, narratively, for his "failure" to disclose such a thing.

And I am... completely baffled.

Where the fuck is this coming from?

I suppose, if I'm being generous, I can kind of see why an individual sympathising with Jiang Cheng might have a knee-jerk reaction to this. If you see them as being essentially family, the idea that a family member that you love deeply, keeping what amounts to both a huge sacrifice and a massive disability from you would be extremely painful. You might feel hurt, that they didn't tell you. Angry, at the implied lack of trust.

I get it, as an emotional response you might have in the moment. I don't find it particularly relatable, but I can follow the thought process.

But like... that's an emotional response. Surely, at some point, logic has to kick in, right?

Because the thing is. Okay, there's two aspects to the secret, right? One, is that a medical procedure was done to Jiang Cheng, sort of like an organ transplant, I suppose, but he wasn't told that the organ was donated by Wei Wuxian. And the other is that Wei Wuxian made this huge sacrifice for Jiang Cheng, and didn't tell him.

But thinking about this for even five minutes should tell you that... neither of those things are actually Wei Wuxian's responsibility to deal with?

The first one is the by far the more common argument I've seen. I've read fics where Wen Ning and Wen Qing are tortured with guilt over having performed the procedure without telling Jiang Cheng all the details. I've even seen people have them blame Wei Wuxian, for demanding they keep it secret, had them secretly resent him for it. He's portrayed as deeply selfish, for keeping the truth of Jiang Cheng's operation from him.

But the thing is... if you're going to apply modern medical ethics to the situation... Wei Wuxian was in the right? They all were?

Under modern medical ethics, you have no right to know the identity of your organ donor. That can feel a little weird (it's probably why people often have a knee-jerk reaction that demands the opposite); after all, it's my body, shouldn't I have a right to know where the organ that goes in it comes from? What if it has cooties?

But according to medical ethics, the donor's right to medical privacy is more protected that the recipient's right to that information. Right to medical privacy is pretty highly valued; it kind of ties into body autonomy, which is kind of the keystone of... most modern ethics. You have a right to control what happens to your body, and that includes controlling whether or not people know about any medical conditions/procedures. So you might have an emotional response, thinking Jiang Cheng is valid for being upset that his golden core came from Wei Wuxian without him knowing, but... ethically, Wei Wuxian has the right to withhold that information.

But! some scarecrow says, If a person has the right to control what procedures happen to their body, surely that means Jiang Cheng has a right to control what happens to his own body! Therefore, the procedure was still unethical, because he didn't know everything!

And I say, well... not really. The reality is, we don't actually know how much Jiang Cheng was told. He was told to walk up a mountain, lie to the person he encountered about his identity, and ask for a golden core. And he left that mountain with said golden core... but we don't know how much Wen Qing told him when he reached the top. We know he believed Wen Qing was the Baoshan Sanren. We know he received a fully developed core, not just the ability to form a new one. Was he told that the core was from someone else? Were there signs of the transfer? Did he know the chance of success/failure? Did he not find any of the situation dubious?

(Did he really spend two and a half years fighting a war alongside, and then running a sect for a year with, someone and not realise they didn't use orthodox cultivation even once?)

The truth is, a doctor is required to inform a patient of risks, and answer any questions they ask. Wen Qing may well have disclosed the risk (if there was any to Jiang Cheng, other than potentially the transfer failing) prior to the surgery, we just don't know. We don't have any evidence that Jiang Cheng asked any questions, and from what we see in the novel, it seems likely that he simply didn't want to know. He got a core, his life was somewhat back on track; we never see any evidence of curiosity or confusion in him as to the specifics of how that happened.

The only lie we are sure that he was told was the identity of the person who he met on the mountain, who "gave" him the core. I could be petty and point out that as he was also lying about his identity, it kind of cancels out, but that would be a bit ridiculous, and unnecessary besides. The truth is, ethically, Wen Qing could have knocked him out and performed the surgery from the comfort of her own office. Because one of, if not the main reason you can ethically violate someone's body autonomy... is to save a life. And Jiang Cheng, after losing first his family and sect, and then his golden core, displayed clear suicidal ideation. He indicated, repeatedly, that he wanted to die. He refused food. Wei Wuxian even doubled checked, before giving him hope of getting a new core, that he was serious! (Rereading that scene is horrible; Wei Wuxian's dread, and eventual resignation/resolve becomes very apparent once you know what's happening).

The characters around him, including a trained doctor, believed that if he didn't get a new core, he would give up and die. Under those circumstances, a doctor has authority to make medical decisions, without a patients consent, if they believe it is a medical emergency. Wen Qing was an unquestionably brilliant doctor; if she believed doing the surgery was the right/necessary decision, who the hell are we to dispute her?

So, to be clear, under modern medical ethics (which seems to be what is being applied in these claims), Wen Qing has the right to do whatever surgery she feels necessary to save the life of her patient, no consent needed, and Wei Wuxian has the right to keep his identity as the donor a secret, since that's his own private medical history. Modern medical ethics (a bit ridiculous, when talking about magic powers, but I've seen the argument) supports our protagonist.

Now, onto the other thing. This is a lot less... ethics discussion and a lot more feels-bad-so-wrong type thing. Wei Wuxian kept the loss of his golden core a secret.

Jiang Cheng being upset by this is understandable. Like I said, I can follow the emotion/logic. Someone keeping a big secret from you can be hurtful.

But just because it's hurtful to you, doesn't mean they're in the wrong to do it!

If someone I cared about kept a massive secret from me, and I found out, I'd be upset! But my first thought would be 'Why did they feel they couldn't tell me?' And the answer here is obvious; Wei Wuxian didn't think he could tell Jiang Cheng because he knew he'd be horrible about it! Wei Wuxian admits, after the reveal, that the process of losing his core was distressing, and that he wasn't as okay with it as he pretended to be. If something like that happens to you (not... that it can, but, you know, equivalent), and you're struggling to hold it together, the last thing you want is someone you care about yelling at you about it, insulting you, making you feel bad for what happened!

Wei Wuxian didn't tell Jiang Cheng because he knew Jiang Cheng would be awful to him because of it. Jiang Cheng's jealousy when they were young was something Wei Wuxian felt he had to manage*, and he knew Jiang Cheng would feel inadequate if he realised his accomplishments were made with Wei Wuxian's core. And he would then lash out at Wei Wuxian for it, at a time when Wei Wuxian was already feeling emotionally fragile. Hell, nearly twenty years later, Jiang Cheng getting up in his face was enough to cause a Qi deviation; I can't imagine it would have been better any sooner!

No one wants to think of the people they love keeping secrets from them. And sometimes, people who keep secrets are doing it for their own sake, because they're scared, or unsure, or guilty, or whatever. But sometimes, when a person keeps a secret, the reason is not internal. If someone acts horribly to you when you tell them things, you're going to stop telling them things. And the person responsible for that gap in communication is them; all you're doing is protecting yourself.

And before anyone thinks that I'm assigning reasoning to Wei Wuxian that he doesn't have; he essentially admits it. After the reveal, Wei Wuxian states that he knew Jiang Cheng would react badly (though he didn't expect it to be quite so bad). Wei Wuxian is shown to have been managing Jiang Cheng's moods since they were young**, it's probably not the first secret he's kept. But that's kind of just... how that works; if a king kills every person who brings him bad news, eventually, all his advisors will only ever bring him good news. And he has no one to blame when his kingdom falls but himself.

SO. tl;dr. Modern medical ethics supports Wen Qing performing the golden core transfer, and Wei Wuxian keeping his identity as the donor a secret. Jiang Cheng can be upset at Wei Wuxian for not telling him that he no longer has a core, but it's not unethical, or selfish, and the nature of their relationship, with Jiang Cheng lashing out with impunity and Wei Wuxian trying to manage his moods, meant that secrets like that were pretty much inevitable. Unhealthy relationships are unhealthy. Truly, newsworthy take.

And one final note, on Wei Wuxian keeping secrets from Jiang Cheng and being portrayed as selfish for doing so; I have yet to see a. single. fic. that says Wei Wuxian keeping his sacrifice secret is wrong, but then goes on hold Jiang Cheng equally accountable for keeping his sacrifice secret. Not. One. Jiang Cheng often tells Wei Wuxian afterwards, that he deliberately got the Wens attention, but he's never framed as selfish for keeping that secret. Not. Once.

* see post-Xuanwu argument, when Wei Wuxian drags himself out of his sick bed, having just woken up from a coma, to reassure Jiang Cheng that he's no threat to his birthright. Because Jiang Cheng was jealous that his father acknowledged Wei Wuxian's skill in surviving, under horrendous circumstances. -_-

** childhood flashback; after arriving in a new place, having a massive change in lifestyle and meeting many new people (and, it seems, trying to make a good impression), Wei Wuxian took the blame for his broken leg, despite it being because Jiang Cheng locked him out of his room and threatened to sic dogs on him. Entirely because he knew one of them would get blamed, and he wanted to keep Jiang Cheng happy. People who grow up with aggressive/abusive family/people around often end up learning to juggle mood changes.

[mimisempai]

He who knows me

Summary

Sometimes emotions are so strong, so overwhelming, that it's impossible to describe them. But do you need to speak when you have a partner who knows and understands you better than anyone else?

POV Aziraphale

Notes

This is the first time I've written in the first person, so I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm doing it anyway.

On Ao3

Rating G -  1235 words

"Your hair has really grown, my dear."

Crowley nods and replies playfully, "Because I know you like it longer."

I don't try to argue with him because he's right and he knows it. However, that doesn't stop me from retorting as playfully as him, "Just like I know you like it when I take care of it."

He doesn't deny it either; we know everything about each other and we don't hide it.

At least we don't hide it anymore.

I let the red strands slide along my fingers, admiring the different warm shades as they catch a ray of sunlight coming through the window. 

Crowley sits on a pillow on the floor, leaning against my legs as I gently run my fingers through the thick mass of wavy red hair, carefully untangling the knots so that the brush can run smoothly through the hair later. Anything to make the experience as pleasurable for my demon as it is for me.

Once I am sure that the hair is mostly untangled, I take the brush and begin to gently stroke it from the top of his head to the end of the first strand, marveling at the softness of the hair as it flows like silk over my fingers.

For a while, the silence of the bookshop is broken only by the few notes of soft, jazzy music playing from my old gramophone and the gentle sound of my brushing along Crowley's hair.

Suddenly, an almost purring sound comes from Crowley's mouth as he leans against my touch.

Leaning forward to look at his face, I see that he has his eyes closed and a look of pure delight on his face.

I can't help but be overwhelmed with emotion at the thought that my touch is causing that expression.

"Why did you stop, angel?"

I leaned in close to his ear and said softly, "I was just admiring the effect my fingers are having on you."

The same sound of contentment came out of his mouth again and he replied softly, "The effect is divine. As expected from an angel."

I laughed softly and whispered in his ear, "Idiot," then couldn't resist pressing my lips to his temple before continuing, "But if you lean against me any more, I won't be able to go on."

He laughed softly as he straightened up a little, just wrapping his hand around my ankle before saying, "Go on, please. "

I press one more kiss to his hair, this time, before resuming my brushing of his hair, and as another ray of sunlight reveals the different shades of red in his hair again, I can't help but murmur, "Gorgeous."

Crowley asks in a confused voice, "What?" 

"Your hair, my love. Its color is so unique, I never noticed all the shades. But also its texture when I run my hands through it, when it's smooth like now or shaggy when you wake up in the morning." 

Feeling him squirm against my legs, as he does every time I pay him a compliment, I place the brush on the arm of the sofa before leaning forward and placing my hands on his shoulders, I bury my nose in his hair. After a deep breath, I continue, "And you don't know how much I love the fragrance of your hair, it's so you."

He breathes in a slightly rough voice, "Angel..."

Wanting more, more contact, more closeness, I let my hands slide from his shoulders to his neck, then to his cheeks, framing his face from behind, and with a light pressure I make him tilt his head up to gain access to his forehead.

After brushing aside a few strands that had fallen across it, I plant a long kiss on it, pleased at the new sigh of contentment that escaped my demon's mouth.

I straighten up a little, but just as I wanted to withdraw my hands from his face, I felt his hand grab mine and his lips press against my palm before he murmured against my skin, "Thank you, Angel."

I grab his chin to turn his head toward me and reply, "The pleasure is all mine, believe me, my love," then I lean in and capture his lips in a tender kiss that he returns with equal fervor. Unfortunately, we're forced to break the kiss because of the uncomfortable angle and position.

A little dazed from the kiss, I barely have time to realize that Crowley has risen before I find myself with a demon on my lap, his arms wrapped around my neck as his lips press gently against mine, continuing the interrupted kiss.

Much later, when we separate to catch our breath, he lets his forehead rest on mine while his hands gently caress my back.

He is all around me, my eyes in his, his breath mingling with mine, his skin against mine, the warmth of his body wherever it touches mine.

We're so close and yet I want more and more and more.

I want to tell him, I open my mouth, breathe in, "Crowley, I..." I inhale and try again, "I..." but the words get stuck in my throat because the emotion is so overwhelming.

Then he pulls back a little and against my will, my hands tighten around his waist.

I don't want him to pull away.

I want to hold him tight, feel his closeness forever.

He murmurs softly, "Shh, Angel... I'm not going anywhere."

His hands slip from my neck and come to rest on mine, which grip his shirt. Despite my resistance, he grasps them, then, after placing my hands on his hips, his own hands come to frame my face.

I want to try and speak again, but he won't let me and, caressing my lips gently with his thumb, he says in an incredibly soft voice, "I know, Angel. I know."

Of course he knows.

He's always known better than anyone else.

He has always given me what I needed before I even asked.

I nod quietly and say nothing.

He repeats softly, "I know."

Then I close my eyes, take a deep breath and let go.

Immediately I feel his warm body pressing hard against mine, his arms and legs wrapped around me in a tight embrace, his face buried in my neck.

This is the closeness I've been longing for.

He murmurs one last time against the skin of my neck, "I know."

I don't know how long we stay like this, entwined so tightly that I don't know where he begins and I end. 

But I do know that when I fall asleep, I'm only aware of him, and when a cheeky ray of sunlight makes me open my eyes much later, the first thing I feel is his body against mine, and the first thing my eyes meet is his.

We must have moved in our sleep, because now we are lying against each other on the sofa.

With his head resting on his hand, he asks me gently, "Are you okay, Angel?"

Smiling softly, I nod slowly before answering, "Better than all right."

Giving me a little wink, he replies, "I know," then brings his face close to mine and continues playfully, "How about we make it even better?"

He doesn't give me time to react and presses his lips to mine.

And I don't resist.

Because he knows.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2) 

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[aihoshiino]

chapter 145 thoughts!

what even was this chapter, y'all. i'm getting a migraine.

While it certainly wasn't actively bad, it basically hits on enough of the issues I've been having with the Movie Arc that if you've been reading my chapter reviews lately, you could probably write this one yourself. Weird pacing, skipping over interesting parts of the movie, continued framing of AQRB as a shallow gag and failing to follow on any of the implied development from or literally any referenced fallout of the kiss in 143? It's all here, babes. It would ultimately just be boring and redundant for me to go over all that at length again, so I won't.

I will however say that I'm pretty disappointed we're blasting through what had the potential to be some really interesting bits of postmortem characterization for Ai, even filtered through 15YL. I don't mind the manga breezing past scenes we saw firsthand but like… how did Ai react when she realized she was pregnant? How did she feel, especially given that Spica once again emphasized her longing for a family of her own? IDK. The way the story is suddenly jolting forwards in these last few chapters and skipping such huge chunks of Ai's life ultimately feels very strange and I don't know what to make of it yet.

Everyone reacting to Crow Girl's acting was pretty funny though I'm kind of exhausted with Ruby's Gaga-For-Oniichansensei Gag Character flanderization. IDK if my tolerance for it is just decreasing or if it really is amping up, but at least in the 125-137 stretch I at least got the sense that they could be in the same room and have a normal conversation but ever since 139, it feels that bit more relentless. I imagine this would be less irritating if we knew how the aftermath of 143 had played out but it really seems like the manga is going to drag this out until we're all old and grey.

THAT SAID, this chapter does confirm that Aqua's hoshigan stayed white after that chapter and… eh. Who even knows what that means lol. It does at least imply that his talk with Ruby has brought him back to Baseline Aqua but Baseline Aqua is still a guy with every single mental illness on planet earth so I don't know if that's the world's biggest W quite yet. It certainly implies an improvement over double black hoshigan but… again, with Aqua being so totally cut off from the readers this whole arc and no idea of what happened in the aftermath of 143, it's impossible to make a meaningful guess as to wtf is going on with Aqua right now.

Oh yeah, uh. This chapter also I guess constitutes the reveal of how the AQRB reincarnation happened. I guess LMAO. Honestly, I don't have much to say about it other than it feels like a bit of an anticlimax for me? The idea works fine, the execution just left me… idk. Whelmed at best, underwhelmed at most. I feel like this backstory and the implied deep fondness for GRSR -> AQRB it implies doesn't really like up with the personality she displays in the Private arc but like, I kind of feel like she was tossed into the story without Akasaka having a clear idea as to what her role was even going to turn into so maybe that's not a surprise LOL

I will say I'm glad this seems to quash the theory that Aqua and Ruby were secretly capital-G Gods, instead framing it as a Tsuru no Ongaeshi type return of kindness to two otherwise mundane people. There was some fun fan theorizing around the idea, but for me personally, Oshi no Ko is most interesting when it focuses on that aspect of the story Akasaka highlighted in an interview recently, of human relationships being warped by the entertainment industry and I think an explosion of the emotional stakes to the cosmic scale of AQRB (or tbh any of the characters) being Secretly Gods All Along would be a bit of a shark jump for me and would really shift away from what I like about the series most.

That's kind of it for this one…! Not really a lot to say about this chapter, which is why most of this review was me explaining why I didn't have a lot to say about it.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

It's time to add batch number 3 of asks and this concludes my little experiment. Unfortunately, it's not the most conclusive one and the analysis is superficial at best (I wish I had this idea when I was feeling better), but I'll try to write a few words.

First, the asks:

I've observed some common themes throughout all the messages I've received.

I think our opinions regarding the topic of dating and what we think of these idols is obviously influenced/determined by our cultural understandings of relationships, our gender politics and relation to our own gender because we interpret and give meaning to what we see through those frames.

Another interesting result was to see how obvious it is now that our rational arguments are so deeply connected to what is actually an emotional response that on the surface, doesn't contain much logic, but then it ends up being used as a logical argument. I would say that the fuckboy allegations about Jungkook are ilustrative of this and I'll try and explain why. Once again, this shouldn't be seen as me being judgemental or pushing my own position at the front, but merely an exploration of that response.

Calling someone a fuckboy without having any actual insight into his dating history is indeed an ilogical reaction that is not based on facts. I find that most likely comes from disappointment and that it is a label used in opposition to ideas of what people understand as commited relationships and partners. In this particular case, JK hugging a woman turned him into a fuckboy for those who used to believe in jikook as a long-term relationship, while those who were not exactly shippers were influenced by their already formed opinion of JK as more of a superficial person.

It doesn't follow a logical train of thought, as it actually translates into frustration, anger, a difference in morals, etc. It's interesting how such words were not really found in some of the asks.

Someone said that a lot of those who sent their messages tried to rationalize their thoughts anyways, instead of focusing on their feelings. It is true, but it's also something that I expected. We tend to do that, not only for those that get to read, but also for ourselves. There is a constant need to make sense of whatever we see, we look for explanations because not knowing might be worse than the actual outcome.

I'd like to go back a bit to the fuckboy label. Would someone think the same if Jungkook was filmed in his house backhugging a man? How do we know that the woman in question was not a long-term partner? How do we know that Jungkook jumps from partner to partner, without caring about their feelings and uses them for his own gratification? Isn't that what the label implies? My point is, we don't know any of these things and yet it is a simple way for some of us to explain our disdain towards what we see. Perhaps the voyeuristic angle (looking at it through a window from outside) has had a significant contribution to these judgements. Then there is also our own bias and other feelings we might have harbored already.

In opposition to that, Jimin gets a pass a lot more which based on the responses I got, shows the difference in the way he is perceived compared to Jungkook or Tae.

As I've mentioned from the beginning, this is just a small glimpse into how we process and express what we feel in connection to some people that we've formed a parasocial relationship with. Amongst the reasons why I said early on that this will be a judgement-free zone is because I find that it is inevitable in most cases to not be affected in any way. A reveal that shows a part of someone that had been kept hidden due to industry practices and behaviors is not something that can be looked at as a mere fact, without anyone being affected by it. The secrecy nature of it can have an effect on all of us, regardless if we're happily married or not, regardless of our gender, age or if our day-to-day happiness is dependent on some idols.

[box-dwelling]

OK so as someone who just genuinely loved Dual destinies and is keeping my theis length DD apologia in the drafts at least for now. I genuinely want to know why people don't like it.

I have seen this take from so many AA fans who I completely agree about everything else with. I need to understand why it sounds like we played completely different games.

I will put some I've seen but feel differently about under the cut

Critisms I find unfair:

-it doesn't tie up the loose ends AA4 left hanging. We don't hold any of the other games up to this standard because they all properly finish up the characters arcs. Aa5 cannot be blamed for the problems we want to overlook in AA4. I do also love AA4 but it does leave a lot of dangling plot threads that the others don't and that would be a fucking nightmare to tie up *staring directly at sibling reveal*

- Clay comes out if no where. He's very well established through the game. He just isn't mentioned in AA4 just like Fran isn't mentioned in AA1 and Dahlia isn't mentioned before AA3.

Critism I acknowledge is a reasonable opinion people can have but strongly disagree with

-Spilting the game between the protagonists stops them having proper arcs. Athena is our weird girl for this game. She is our maya. We get to play as her for 1.5 cases. For the majority of the game she's taking up the weird girl screen time and she's honestly still doing that in the ones you play as her. She's just a weird girl who happens to be a lawyer. In the main game Apollo and Phoenix have a roughly equal amount of screen time by chapter. They cut the bloated filler not the arcs (yes I will argue that 5-2 is needed for Apollos arc. Its there to set up his relationship with Athena that us a catalyst later on)

-Phoenix and Apollo are OOC. No. Phoenix is still a cryptic little bitch when you don't play as him and in AA4 he was so very clearly missing being a lawyer. It makes sense. Apollo very clearly in the last case of AA4 regains a lot of his respect for Phoenix. No, he doesn't do this on screen but again that is AA4s fault not dual destinies. That's how he acts the last time we see him so that's how he's acting now.

-The Phantom comes out of nowhere. Plot wise, maybe. But so do a lot of AA villians. Thematically, he's the perfect fit. DD is a game about trust. Very, very explicitly. A spy is someone who can't trust anyone. The phantom is a man who's shut himself off so much from emotions that he no longer recognises why trust is needed. And also has an ability that directly preys on people by making them think hes a trustworthy figure. He's not an incredible villian but he is thematically cohesive.

-almost a part 2 to the last point. The Fulbright reveal comes out of nowhere. First of all 5-2 has some very very choice sprite framing lol. But beyond that it also is a thematically smart choice. We as players are conditioned in AA games to trust the recurring detective. The villain should be someone that we trust. The guy was likeable but also fundamentally always kinda hollow and did in fact pull a shit ton of strings in 5-4 that we all ignored because we trusted him. The clues are there. You're just not ment to pick up on them because of the formula of these games.

-Edgeworth doesn't need to be there. Again game with a theme of trust. He doesn't necessarily need to be there but his dynamic with Phoenix does. They spent 3 fucking games setting up how important it is that those two trust each other and in a game about trust his absence would be felt.

-I don't see this a lot but I did see it a few times. Blackquill is a bad prosecutor. Honestly this is a taste thing and I love him. He is my little bastard man. Also thematically he embodies the two people you aren't supposed to trust in these games, a convict and a prosecutor but is actually a cool guy.

-I've never seen this but I can guess it's happened. Pearl comes out of nowhere. Again theme of trust. Phoenix has just lost the two people he's been relying on to trust the most and needed to be reminded that there were other people he loved and trusted so letter from Maya and visit from Pearl.

-mood matrix. I like the mini game I think it's fun. My brain likes to sit and logically think about what emotions it would make sense for someone to feel in situations.

Criticism I agree with but really don't bother me

-Trucy is side lined. Yeah. I love her to pieces and will never complain about getting more of her but it doesn't make sense for her to not be there plot wise and they clearly just didn't have room for her. I am happy with my Trucy scraps. I would visit her and present every piece of evidence to her to get as much dialogue as I could.

-Klavier is sidelined. Also yeah. But he did genuinely need to be there for 5-3 thematically for that case. (It is literally a showdown between his school of thought and the one he thought phoenix had) but they couldn't make him procecutor because he'd be too much on their side. It had to be someone who at that point seems at least a little morally dubious. I wish there was more but I will also happily take my Klavier scraps.

-the anime cutscenes. I don't love them but I do have a little switch in my brain marked "watching anime" that I can flip and enjoy them for what they are.

-the switch of the voiced sound effects. Yes they are worse but like, I can live with it.

Stuff I don't like and won't defend

-turnabout reclaimed racism and fatphobia (also blatant animal welfare ignorance). I'm not defending it or overlooking it but it's not the only game in this franchise to be problematic.

[shintin]

Gunpowder Dreams

Chapter 8 (Knives)

↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader

They didn't know a wounded man would show no mercy when they took the best thing he ever had away from him. What did they say? Don't poke the dragon if you can't take the heat; if you do, expect the flames.

Genre: explicit smut, toxic relation, romance, angst (Mafia au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, Alternative Universe/Modern Setting, no spoilers from manga and anime, dominate Vash the Stampede, sexual situations, dub-con, graphic violence, gore, angst, toxicity, gunplay, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, too many smut scenes, emotional trauma, and etc.

Song Recommendation: Mitski - My Love Mine All Mine

Note: For the sake of preserving your mental well-being, I urge you to revisit the warnings once more.

God, I love this song of Mitski.

Chapter Index - Next Chapter

A chilling and whimsical voice whispered, "You have such pretty hair," causing you to jolt in surprise.

Startled by the unexpected intrusion, you inhaled sharply and swiftly turned around. Standing before you was none other than him—the man with an icy gaze and a perpetually unsettling smile. His pale blonde hair was neatly brushed back, and his deep, cold green eyes bore into yours from the doorway as he casually leaned against the frame.

Fear gripped you, rendering you immobile and causing you to feel as if you were rooted to the spot. Your body felt frozen, as if encased in your own skin, preventing any movement in either direction. Was this a dreadful nightmare, or was it the harsh reality unfolding before your eyes?

While standing in front of the mirror, previously attempting to braid your hair. "Why are you here?" The words slipped from your lips as you tried to gain your bearings. Then, a wave of unease washed over you, and you found yourself on the edge, your body tensing beneath the weight of his penetrating gaze. There was always something entirely unnerving about his presence.

Rising to his full height, he took deliberate steps, walking into the room until he stood a few inches away from you. With a commanding presence, he looked down at you and inquired, "Let me help you with your hair."

Your instinct was to say no. You very much wanted to kick him out so you could breathe again. But it would be wise not to provoke the enemy. Without waiting for your response, he steadily closed the gap between you. He was attired in a baby blue button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves, paired with white trousers that accentuated the outlines of his chest and ass. You made a conscious effort to avert your gaze. His ass could go fuck himself!

Hesitantly, you turned your back to him, keeping a close watch on his actions through the mirror. His smile widened, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth as he extended his hand towards your hair. As he approached, he pressed his entire body against your back, causing a sickening sensation to churn in the pit of your gut. A wave of discomfort washed over you as you felt a bulge brushing against your body.

Furrowing your brows, you stepped away, feeling all kinds of weird. The situation felt strange and uncomfortable. He snickered, but didn't come any closer. Instead of simply gathering your hair, he began to pet it, his fingertips delicately brushing against the strands, seemingly deriving pleasure from the act. Your discomfort intensified, even as he eventually proceeded with the task of gathering your hair together. Somehow, he was gentle with you. "What do you want?" you asked.

Knives' eyes snapped to the mirror, and although his eyes weren't directly focused on you, the power emanating from his stare sent a shot of terror coursing through your entire being. Striving to maintain a composed expression, you endeavored to conceal the tremors within. However, your entire body quivered violently, the sound of your bones colliding, echoing within your ears.

Instead of providing a response, he posed a question, "How did you get your hair this soft?"

You narrowed your eyes, not liking his avoidance. Furthermore, you found yourself puzzled by this recurring fixation on hair among the twins. Did they have long hair during childhood or something? Frustration mingled with your thoughts as you responded, "I don't really do anything special. No heat and no dye."

He hummed, and you arched a brow.

You pressed further, "What are you doing here?"

He momentarily paused, extending his pale hand towards you. It took a moment to register that he was requesting the ponytail holder. Exhaling audibly through your nose, you retrieved the band from your wrist and placed it in his outstretched palm. Several more moments passed in silence, yet you maintained a firm and unwavering gaze, piercing holes into his countenance through the mirror, persistently awaiting a response.

Finally, he replied, "I'm here to have a talk with you," his voice adopting a pleasant tone as he commenced braiding. A part of you couldn't shake the impression that he deliberately made you wait, as if it were a subtle demonstration of power. Though his actions weren't overtly malicious or cruel—in fact, he exhibited remarkable gentleness as he deftly twisted your hair—there was an underlying sensation that triggered your sixth sense. It resembled the feeling when someone laughs at your words, but deep down, you feel they're laughing at you rather than with you.

Knives spoke with an air of indifference, his attention fixed solely on your hair as he remarked, "Good thing Vash is not around, right?"

As you faced the mirror, his reflection staring back at you, an overwhelming wave of dread and fear conquered your entire being. His presence was like a cold hand that had clutched your heart, suffusing you with a haunting sense of vulnerability and the imminent unknown.

Questions raced through your mind, flooding your thoughts with concern. Where was Vash? Why wasn't he present? How was he faring? Was he safe and well? Your worry extended even to the basic necessities of life, wondering if he had been eating properly. Despite feeling frustrated with yourself for fixating on such details, you couldn't help but yearn for reassurance regarding his whereabouts and overall well-being.

Are you some kind of idiot? Yes. You are.

Knives responded, seemingly attuned to the trajectory of your thoughts, "Vash and his puppy, Livio, are currently at the hospital undergoing checkups." His words dripped with venom. "He got shot because of you, remember?" The atmosphere grew even more tense as he emphasized that, for the time being. "So, it's just you and me." Tilting his head, he offered a smile that felt as if you had just bitten into a hard rock and swallowed it, leaving a bitter and unpleasant sensation in its wake.

"Why didn't you seize the opportunity to flee when you had the chance?" Knives queried, tugging on the strand of hair in his hand with a slightly rougher grip than before.

You were astounded, unable to comprehend how Knives had obtained this knowledge. As he finished with your hair, he continued his explanation, revealing, "I reviewed the footage from the security cameras outside. I saw you in front of the door, followed by your decision to return inside."

You gulped.

"It's truly refreshing," he remarked, his tone laced with a peculiar sense of satisfaction. "To witness your unwavering loyalty towards my brother, prioritizing his well-being over your own freedom. It can be quite exasperating when dogs choose to run away from their owners, you know?"

As insults were hurled once again, it felt as if the buttons in your mind had gone astray, leaving you in a state of bewilderment. You blinked in a dazed manner, struggling to find the appropriate words to respond. It was as if the words themselves were either lost, never existed, or you simply had no clue what to say in the face of such provocation.

"Did you have something to say, little bug?" Knives sneered, his tone sarcastic. Your lips tightened as a whirlwind of thoughts raced through your mind in a mere matter of seconds. Countless possibilities played out; each one focused on finding a way to navigate this perilous situation unharmed. You desperately searched for the right words or actions that could potentially defuse the impending storm of violence coming your way. However, despite your frantic mental efforts, in the end, you came up blank.

You stole a quick glance at yourself in the mirror, meeting the gaze of the girl staring back at you, a reflection that mirrored your self-critical thoughts. The realization settled in that; indeed, you felt like an utter fool. Your mouth grew parched, as if every ounce of saliva had abandoned it, leaving you with the concern that your tongue might wither and disintegrate from the lack of hydration. It was all rerouted to your eyes, yet you fought hard to prevent them from cascading down your cheeks.

You licked your lips, mustering enough moisture to allow words to escape, even though you knew deep down they would likely be futile. "Nothing, I'm sorry," you managed to choke out, intentionally keeping your voice soft and amiable. You were keenly aware that any hint of defiance or attitude would only invite further, potentially more severe consequences. While you succeeded in maintaining a veneer of compliance, you couldn't suppress the shudders that betrayed the underlying fear in your voice, exposing the true extent of your trepidation.

In a gripping display of force, he firmly grasped the end of your braid in his hand, forcefully yanking your hair and pressing you against the wall, his grip constricting around your throat. The sensation of being choked feared the shit out of you, and you became convinced that your life was slipping away. You were sure that this was what it felt like to face death, entirely paralyzed and rendered helpless from the neck down.

Desperate to defend yourself, you violently clawed at him, using the last traces of your fading energy, kicking at his body in a vain attempt to break free. However, as your strength waned, a profound sense of resignation overcame you. You surrendered to the realization of your foolishness, condemning yourself for naively believing that Knives had any intentions other than bringing your demise.

"Answer me straight when I ask you something!" he demanded before releasing his grip. You fell to the floor, your body trembling from the ordeal. He turned and walked away as you gasped for air, your lungs burning with agony, each cough reverberating through the dim atmosphere. Your body convulsed in spasms, wracked with pain, as you struggled to regain control and find some relief.

Despite Knives' intimidating display of power within a concise span of time, you realized that you had to gather your wits and devise a plan to get your ass out of this pit of shit. It was evident that your survival depended on taking decisive action. Now was the moment to cast aside any reservations and fully commit to finding a way to endure and emerge from this shit alive.

Taking a brief moment to collect yourself, you closed your eyes, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. You focused on clearing your airways and finding your mental footing. As you opened your eyes, you noticed that Knives had already settled himself on the foot of your bed, his gaze fixed upon you, a disturbing expression of amusement playing across his face. It was as if your predicament provided him with a perverse form of entertainment.

"Why did you come back?"

"Because he needed help. He was dying and…" you began, your voice catching in your throat. You forced yourself to hold back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, blinking rapidly to regain hold of your emotions.

As Knives directed his gaze towards somewhere behind you, a seething rage emanated from his lifeless eyes. However, it was something in the subtleties of his expression that instantly filled you with regret. It wasn't his anger at your response that troubled you. No, it was the realization that he harbored an understanding: nobody would come to your rescue, and you were utterly at his mercy.

You bit your lip, your eyes dropping along with your heart. It pounded forcefully within your chest as panic filled your veins and adrenaline circulated deeply throughout your body, making you feel nauseous. This encounter was unlike facing his psychotic twin. Knives lacked the enigmatic allure and the precarious dance between pain and pleasure. Instead, there was only a repulsive man fixating his gaze upon you, likely conjuring the most abhorrent scenarios of defilement or murder. He was not Vash, and the stark contrast only deepened your fright.

"Don't deceive yourself, little bug. No one dies from a mere superficial wound like that. Bleeding? Yes, but dying? Are you truly so naive to believe that if my brother were on the verge of death, he would waste his time engaging in idle conversation with you? He's a manipulator, forever entangled in his games."

The magnitude of the shock you experienced surpassed your expectations. It became abundantly clear that Vash was not on the brink of death, rendering your offer of help unnecessary. In retrospect, you realized the folly of returning and persisting by his side, consumed with worry and care. He must have relished each second of toying with you.

"What do you want from me?" you gritted through clenched teeth.

Leaning forward, he interlocked his hands and confessed, "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure anymore."

"What?"

With a nod directed at you and a sweeping glance around the room, he remarked, "Well, it seems you've already deduced that none of Vash's men are present, haven't you?" A smile played upon his lips as he continued, "Surely you've come to the realization that my intentions here are far from benevolent."

Terror waved hello to you.

A slight chuckle escaped him. "If you believe I'm unaware of the inner workings of my own family, my dear," he stated, his tone condescending, "you're gravely mistaken." He knowingly shook his head. "I know everything," he declared, letting out another laugh. "And I should have foreseen that when my younger brother, driven by his infatuation with you, would take the life of one of my subordinates, it would only serve as a prelude to the countless others he would mercilessly eliminate. Numbers hold no significance to him as long as he wields a firearm."

"What does any of this have to do with me?" you retorted, your voice quivering slightly. "I didn't prompt him to take such actions," you continued, emphasizing your innocence in the matter.

"You make a valid point," he nodded, rising from his seat and jamming his hands into his pockets. "That's precisely why I'm eager to uncover how you've managed to captivate him. While I acknowledge that he may be grieving and emotionally distraught, even during his most erratic moments, he has never unleashed such a torrent of violence for the sake of a single individual. And the perplexing aspect is that you hold seemingly little significance to him. Please correct me if I'm mistaken." He tilted his head, awaiting your response with an expectant gaze.

You shook your head. "No. You're right. I am nothing to him."

He drew in a breath, his voice carrying a tinge of incredulity. "Quite unbelievable, wouldn't you agree?" His smile widened, exuding a brilliant radiance. "Nevertheless, my purpose here is to impart a lesson to my sibling. I had fully intended to kill you," he stated, adopting a deliberate and unhurried stride around the room. "And I specifically chose to do so in a manner that he would witness firsthand. After all, the system of mafia families can be chaotic," he remarked, dismissing the complexity with a casual wave of his hand. "It's easy to lose track of who's been killed and how they died and who killed whom, et cetera, et cetera. I wanted this particular death to be clean and straightforward, mirroring the message it would convey. It is detrimental for him to eliminate my men or subject himself to harm due to someone as fragile as you. As his brother, it is my duty to put an end to such nonsensical occurrences."

You felt sick, a profound and harrowing sensation that twisted your body. The revelation of this man's true nature surpassed even your darkest expectations. Your voice was one hard breath, one loud whisper when you spoke."Then why don't you simply end my life?"

Pausing momentarily, he expressed his struggle. "Ending the life of something beautiful is always hard," he sighed, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. "Perhaps there is a way to spare your life while still granting Vash a significant keepsake, at the very least. Alternatively, and perhaps even more desirable, I could claim you as my own," he suggested, scratching his chin in contemplation.

"Thanks for the offer," you told him. "But I'd really rather let you push me off a cliff." His laughter echoed through the room, resembling a chorus of delicate bells—cheerful and pure, yet lacking the power to infect you with mirth.

"Oh my." His smile was radiant, brimming with an undeniable sick sincerity. Without hesitation, he shook his head and charged towards you with the force of a linebacker, crashing into your body and forcefully driving you to the floor. The impact stole the air from your lungs, leaving you breathless. As your body collided with the floor, you learned the hard way that the floors were made of concrete beneath parquets. Stars erupted in your vision, obscuring your sight, and in a desperate attempt, you blindly swatted away Knives' hands until they vanished from your field of view. You managed to deliver a weak but impactful strike to Knives' throat before swiftly maneuvering beneath his arm. He choked and coughed, granting you a crucial moment to regain your breath.

However, he rapidly dominated you, pinning you forcefully against the floor once more. With a single hand, he held your hands firmly above your head. "My younger brother is unhinged. He lacks reason and is sick in a way I'll never understand," Knives gritted his teeth, his words seething with frustration. "He's obsessed with you."

"NO!" you exclaimed, vigorously shaking your head with such conviction that it felt as if your neck might snap.

"You have tainted him," Knives remarked, his voice carrying a weight of silence as he held his jaws tightly clenched. "And I am far from pleased about it."

It was then that a chilling sensation crept up from the base of your neck, coursing down your spine. It was as if invisible drills were boring holes into your back.

"I underestimated you," he spat.

Your mouth parted, and you shook your head, speechless, as confusion and adrenaline wared in your brain. "Wha—"

"Don't play stupid," he hissed before delivering a backhanded blow that ignited a searing pain across your cheek and elicited a gasp of surprise. Instinctively, you wanted to reach for your injured cheek, but his grip on your wrists tightened, growing rougher, leaving you paralyzed with shock. Meeting his gaze, you witnessed untamed anger blazing in his eyes. "You think you can snatch my brother away from me?" he accused. "You assume I will simply let it happen?"

Once more, you vigorously shook your head, your eyes widening with disbelief as words of protest tumbled from your lips. "I don't. I never—"

Before you could finish speaking your truth, another forceful slap landed on the same cheek, abruptly silencing your words. His chest rose and fell with a volatile mix of anger and aggression, emanating intense waves of heat that felt like solar flares of fury, relentlessly battering against you as he seethed with rage.

Tears rushed to your eyes, and you shook from the effort to keep them from spilling over. You refused to display even a hint of weakness, knowing he would perceive the tears as an admission of guilt. Your vision blurred as your hatred brought forth colorful words on the tip of your tongue. It took several deliberate swallows to suppress and force them back down your throat.

"I witnessed the look in your eyes earlier. Don't dare pretend that you weren't scheming to deceive him. You're a sneaky little whore!"

"I—"

"Silence!" he screeched, his sanity wholly unraveled. He forcefully seized your face, violently pressing you down to the floor, causing a searing sensation across your scalp. A cry of pain escaped your lips, abruptly stifled as he pressed his palm against your mouth with brutal force as if attempting to fracture your jaw.

"I swear—" you sobbed, your voice choked with desperation as you yearned to escape yet found yourself trapped. The weight of his hand bore down upon your head, rendering you unable to see or move, but every sensation seared through your being. Oh, gods, you could feel it all. "Please, please, please," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face, your cries echoing in the air. But he had long ceased to listen, indifferent to your anguish.

His hands released their grip, and in a forceful motion, he jerked your head backward, compelling you to gaze directly into his face. Balanced on his knees, his eyes blazed with untamed intensity as he hissed through gritted teeth, "How dare you encroach upon my sole family? I will ensure you regret being alive!"

Sobs wracked your throat, slobber nearly pouring from your mouth as you struggled to speak through the pain. "I didn't," you managed to utter, your voice pleading for him to understand.

Rearing back, he slapped you across the face again, your ears ringing as he continued to mindlessly do it, over and over, until you were breathless from the onslaught of pain. "You fucking bitch!" he screamed. Once again, he lifted your head, but your vision was obscured by the rivers of tears pouring from your eyes. Indiscernible pleas fell past your lips, but even you could no longer comprehend the words escaping your tormented mouth.

"You know what happens when you try to steal something from me?" he sneered, his voice tinged with a chilling threat. "You end up buried in an unmarked grave somewhere no one will ever find you." Finally, he released you, nearly smacking your head off the wood again.

Immediately, your body curled on itself. Whimpers erupted from deep within your throat, so powerful that no sound managed to escape, leaving you gasping for air as if your breath had been stolen away.

Before your lungs could replenish with air, Knives approached you again, his candor slow and purposeful as he opened and closed a switchblade. Multiple times. Each metallic ring pumping terror into your system.

He came to a halt just inches away, his body grazing against your stomach and his breath searing your nostrils. The small reservoir of bravery you still possessed was dedicated to preventing yourself from fainting.

"Look at me," he whispered.

You did, lifting your eyes to meet his cold, deadened stare. A shrill, piercing sound began to reverberate in your ears as you locked eyes, engaging in a silent, intense standoff. The noise originated from the depths of your mind, gradually intensifying until it drowned out the surrounding sounds. It served as a warning, an internal alarm resonating within your very being, signaling the imminent danger that lay ahead. Much like the blaring siren of a tornado alarm, a harbinger of the catastrophic destruction that ensues as a deadly twister rip lives apart.

His thick palm closed around your throat, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as he tightened his grip, constricting your windpipe. Naturally, you fought back, attempting to pry his hand away, but Knives remained unfazed, didn't even flinch, despite how your nails vit into his skin.

As your body was starved for oxygen, the edges of your vision blurred into darkness, gradually encroaching upon your sight. The air steadily drained from your lungs, leaving them empty, while a shimmering veil of pain danced across your eyes.

With a snarl, he drew the knife perilously close to your earlobe, and a chilling sensation crept along the side of your neck. A grunt escaped your lips as the blade sliced through your flesh, and you reflexively reached for the seeping wound, attempting to crawl away from him. However, before you could even lift yourself up, his weight descended upon you, pressing down with suffocating force.

Survival instincts immediately kicked in.

With a frantic struggle, you writhed beneath him, attempting to swing your elbows towards his head. However, your aim fell short, a feeble attempt at incapacitating a big-ass man on top of you.

"Get off me!" you screeched, your voice filled with desperation, as you bucked your hips in a desperate bid to dislodge him. The ferocity of your desperation had reached a fever pitch, driving you to the brink of savagery. You would have willingly torn the flesh from your own bones with your teeth if it meant freeing yourself from his oppressive weight. You were willing to do anything—absolutely anything—to escape.

"You need to learn your place, fool. And I promise I'll try to be a bit gentle if you play along," he stated, his breath ragged from grappling with your resisting body. He was failing—but so were you.

You felt your strength waning, realizing his overpowering advantage. It was evident that he would emerge victorious. "Right, little bug? This could be quick and painless. A small lesson to remind you not to meddle with what doesn't belong to you."

He bashed your head against the unforgiving wooden floor again and again and again. With each impact, dirt and dust embedded themselves in your hair, obscuring your vision and blurring the line between reality and hallucinations. Violently, he tore at your joggers, the fabric rending apart in a cacophony of ripping sounds that sent another wave of horror coursing through your system as his excited breathing escalated.

"No!" you shouted as he firmly gripped your hips. The contact between his skin and yours sent electric shocks coursing through your body, causing you to tremble beneath his rough, calloused hands. Panic threw your mind into a chaotic tailspin. You no longer thought rationally. With every ounce of strength you could summon, you fought against his hold, but it proved pointless. He loomed over you. He was too big. Too heavy. Too fucking imposing.

"P-please—"

"Shhhhh," he snapped, his voice like a rusty blade scraping against your spine, sending shivers of anxiety coursing through your entire being. You were already sure that his voice was going to haunt your nightmares for the rest of your days.

He tightly clutched your face in his meaty palm, causing you to whimper as he roughly squeezed your cheeks, forcing your head to twist to the side so he could get a better view of your features.

You bristled but somehow forced yourself not to fight his hold like a rabid dog. He menacingly directed the tip of the blade towards your thigh, an explicit threat of inflicting a cut.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks in rivulets as you made another desperate attempt to twist away, only to be abruptly halted by a powerful punch to your chest, causing your world to explode before your eyes. The pain had become an unwavering companion in the past months, but in this moment, it seemed strangely absent. Your mind was filled with a heightened sense of warning as if you could conquer any challenge, yet your physical body was rendered powerless to stop this man from violating you.

You desperately clawed at the wooden surface, your nails digging into the material, serving as anchor points as you attempted to extract yourself from beneath his grasp. The immense pressure caused your nails to bend and snap, tearing away from your skin, as he forcefully dragged you back down, leaving deep scratches on the floor.

He harshly pinched the skin of your sides once, twice more before cutting your inner thigh. A growl escaped his lips as his blood-stained palm slapped your mouth, further tormenting you.

"You can't escape me," he muttered, and you screamed with frustration, attempting to buck him off, yet he only laughed at your attempt, the rich sound of his amusement sending ice down your spine. Gripping your braid roughly, he drew his face close to yours, his minty breath invading your senses. "Keep pissing me off, little bug. I do enjoy hurting you."

Beads of sweat formed on your hairline, trickling down your back. Panic continued to consume you, leaving you at a loss for any conceivable means of escape. The realization dawned on you, and tears welled up in your eyes, knowing deep down that freedom from him was an unattainable dream. His earlier words echoed in your mind:

You can't escape me.

With rough, calloused fingers, he raised your long t-shirt, revealing your belly. Though you had lost the ability to distinguish reality from hallucination, you could sense his intense gaze feasting upon you. Relentlessly, he lifted the shirt further until your breasts were fully exposed to his view.

A sharp intake of breath escaped him, betraying his desire. "You don't wear a bra during my brother's visits?" he murmured, his hands moving across your waist.

"Please listen—" you cried again.

As his fingers grazed the hem of your black panties, fear coursed through you, alerting you to his sinister intentions. Your fight renewed, prompting you to harshly kick at him, successfully delivering a forceful blow to his chest. Despite the impact, he persevered, pushing back against the kick and sending agonizing shockwaves up your leg. A growl emanated from deep within your chest as you desperately launched another kick at him, utilizing both legs and channeling every ounce of strength behind them. However, before your feet could make contact with his face, he seized both of your feet, thwarting your attempt.

You squirmed, contorting the upper portion of your body in a frantic attempt to break free from his grasp. Quickly, he worked his hands around both ankles while avoiding a foot to the face. With a decisive motion, he forced your legs apart, pressing your knees firmly against the floor as he positioned himself between them. What felt like forever only took fifteen seconds.

You compelled yourself to find stillness though your chest heaved wildly. Rage, unlike anything you'd ever felt, flooded you, replacing the helplessness. In a crescendo of fury, you screamed, unleashing a torrent of curses upon him while his eyes hungrily devoured every inch of your being.

His words lashed out cruelly, "Why is it that you willingly spread your legs for my brother, yet with me, you act like a prudish whore? Don't you realize that we have the same flavor?"

He bent over and planted a kiss on your belly button, near the waistband of your underwear. You trembled with disgust, distancing yourself from his gesture. You breathed heavily through your nose, mimicking an angry bull.

The self-loathing battled with the loathing for him. You did this to yourself. You knew you did. You had the opportunity to escape from all of this, yet you chose to remain in place.

Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!

"You don't like kisses? Perfect! I share the sentiment," he stated, standing on his knees. A hush fell upon the room, and as he retrieved the switchblade, the piercing metallic sound reverberated like a sudden bolt of electricity. "I bet you you prefer knives, don't you?"

No. No. No.

Another fist landed on your face, causing you to lose consciousness. There was nothing you could do to stop him, and defeat felt like scalding hot oil searing your

*

You felt a deep, shuddering breath brush against your face, sensing his increasing excitement as the cold, sharp bite of metal pressed into your stomach. Although he hadn't broken the skin, your pain receptors were shrieking as if he had.

"I want to see you drenched in red, little bug," Knives murmured from his position above you, his hard length brushing against your underwear. Your t-shirt was in tatters, and you were already drenched in red. He had made numerous cuts across your body, yet his thirst for more remained unsatiated.

A whimper escaped your lips as you sensed him grind on your clothed entrance, and your gag reflex threatened to spew bile all over him. Nevertheless, your empty core contained nothing to purge.

"You like feeling me, don't you, little bug?"

Despite remaining fully dressed, his white pants and blue shirt were now saturated in your blood. All scarlet.

You tightly squeezed your eyes shut as he intruded upon your body, akin to a parasite, an unwelcome occupant draining your life force to sustain his own. Eventually, the keen tip of his knife breached your skin, and his blade glided along your stomach, eliciting a sharp yelp. Blood bubbled from the wound, fueling his growing excitement. "Fuck, that's beautiful," he groaned breathlessly.

A solitary tear slipped past your eye, and you silently prayed he would remain too preoccupied to take notice. Over the past hour, you had learned that he would only cut you deeper when you cried. He wanted you to writhe beneath the piercing metal and get off on the pain as he did. He wanted you to find pleasure in this torment, and when he realized you were not, it ignited his anger. He insisted that you needed to grow accustomed to it as if it were a matter of adaptation.

However, the idea of anyone becoming accustomed to being cut open like a fucking fish seemed unfathomable to you. Did Vash also endure years of this torment and abuse?

Another cry escaped your lips as Knives discovered a fresh area and began exerting pressure on his blade gradually, almost as if he intended to allow you time to adjust. You would have preferred him just get it the fuck over with, but deep down, you suspected he was aware of your wish and deliberately denied it to you.

He started laughing and lost control, causing the knife to slip and cut you deep. Pinching your eyes shut, you inhaled sharply, feeling the sting. As Knives shuddered with amusement, your soul fractured. You doubted he intended to keep you for an extended period. How could he, when your eventual bleeding out seemed inevitable?

"Once I take you to my household," he gasped, "I'm going to drink that fucking blood. Feast on it at all hours of the day."

You felt a sensation of turmoil within, and a wave of queasiness loomed, threatening to overcome you once more. The imagery he conjured in your mind was repugnant and deeply unsettling. It felt as if he had openly proclaimed himself a cannibal or an aspiring vampire, embracing the grotesque.

Noticing the repulsion etched on your face, he snarled and shifted his blade towards your throat. "This vein right here?" he sneered, "A single slice, and I could drink your essence until you become nothing but a lifeless husk. Is that what you want?"

Yes. God, please, let me die. Here and now, and I'll be fucking happy.

"No," you choked out, your voice strained with anguish. You refrained from urging him to carry out his threat, knowing that doing so would only ensure he wouldn't. He was cunning, fully aware that granting you what you truly desired was out of the question, mainly because he understood that you were not his possession. Yet.

"Then confess that you want me," he demanded as if he could discern your innermost thoughts.

"I want you," you echoed immediately, though the words felt empty and hollow. This sick bastard anticipated carving a space in your heart, but that place was an infinite void of emptiness that not only he but nobody could ever fill.

Enraged by the vacancy conveyed through your voice, he snarled and ran his knife harsher against your skin. Struggling to swallow, you nervously bit down on your quivering lip. Malice sprouted within his green eyes as if he were draping them in a cloak of darkness that concealed their once-bright hue. His hand traced a path down the planes of your torso, pausing to dig his thumb into a wound, extracting a cry from your throat, before continuing its descent. He teasingly swirled his fingers over your flesh, wearing an evil smirk on his lips.

There was a little sponge lodged in your windpipe, collecting hatred like water, gradually swelling until your throat felt sealed shut. Lightly, he traced his fingers across your crotch, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes as he discovered that sensitive spot, causing your muscles to involuntarily tense.

"No, I beg—" you breathed, feeling the sting of fresh tears welling up behind your eyes. You hated that spot, which you had made him cognizant of. His eyes ignited, emanating a palpable excitement that permeated the air.

"Then repeat it once more," he ordered, his voice saturated with wickedness.

You closed your eyes, imagining a beautiful face with devilish blue eyes, silky blond hair, a golden hoop adorning the left ear, and a stitched thumb gently brushing against your hand. Thoughts of Vash's hands exploring your body, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, and the scent of his skin drenched in a warm, intimate embrace flooded your mind. However, in an abrupt realization, your heart fractured into two distinct pieces. Knives was not Vash.

Working to swallow, you managed to rasp, "I want you." Despite the challenge, you fought back the urge to break as his groan reached your ears. It was all wrong. He sounded wrong, he felt wrong, he was just… fucking wrong.

Knives was a large man with an even larger gut. There was no denying the familial resemblance between him and Vash, with their chiseled noses, fair complexions, and distinguishing beauty marks beneath their eyes. However, while they shared a common lineage, Vash exuded a captivating beauty, while Knives... did not. The only instances where beauty graced this man's life were through the hands of a woman or man—touches that were purloined and came with a steep price, a price they alone paid.

A smile played across his face upon hearing your defiance, and he delivered a hard slap to your bloodied thigh. "Say my name, little bug," he demanded. In relentless determination, you tightened your jaw tightly, vowing never to comply. You'd never say it. Never. No matter what.

As you steadfastly maintained your sealed lips, he responded by resuming his cutting, unrelenting in his pressure on your wounds. Your body tensed, a chilling sensation gathering in the depths of your abdomen. Still, you kept silent, refusing to surrender anything more than what had already been taken from you.

Knives thought you'd given him nothing, but that wasn't true. In fact, you had given him everything, though he found no value in them. The once flawless and unblemished skin he brutally marred, the fragments of your sanity that eroded with each scrape of his blade, the haunting whispers of a future where you would belong to him, your ability to touch and be touched without wanting to slit your throat open, your dignity, your self-esteem, and the once familiar comfort within your own body—all of these were part of what you had surrendered.

Your fucking worth. Meaningless.

His true desire lay in obtaining every shattered fragment of your soul, and in return, he expected you to embrace every fractured piece of his own. However, your soul had already been claimed, already manipulated by a cruel man seeking vengeance for his deceased beloved.

A sense of detachment washed over you as if you had become an observer outside of your own body. It felt as though your physical form had crumpled to the floor while you watched helplessly as Knives applied his brutal cuts upon it. Each word, each insult he flung at you, seemed to ripple through your bones, shattering them bit by bit. Soon, you would be reduced to nothing more than a vessel of blood and a deadly beating heart.

Don't cry, you kept saying to yourself.

Don't cry. This isn't real.

"One day, little bug, you will say it," he promised. "You will either belong to me or cold grave." As he leaned down, his tongue grazing your throat, your legs tightened. Gritting your teeth, you felt the bile rising in your throat.

With a groan, he declared, "This belongs to me—all of it." His teeth clamped down on the battered flesh of your neck, sinking in until pain consumed your vision and a scream ripped from your throat. Yet, even in that moment, he showed no mercy. He persisted until blood seeped through the gaps in his teeth, and you found yourself pleading for the knife instead.

What a tragedy.

You were anything but his. The need to slice him open, from ear to ear, vibrated through your wounded muscles. Underneath his weight, you flexed your weary hand, battling to plunge it down Knives' throat. You wanted to kill him, scratch him the way he did to you.

He bit you harder.

At that moment, you wished you could feel raindrops with this skin again and gather hopes in your pockets. You wished you could trace the cracks on the wall and feel the wind's gentle touch on your nose. As your plea transcended the divine, you no longer sought the presence of Gods or angels. Every fiber of your being pleaded for Vash to arrive, take his big revenge and end your life. You couldn't explain why your gaze remained fixed upon the door, eagerly awaiting for him to show up. After all, he had promised no harm would meet you. But wasn't this, in its own cruel way, a form of harm?

At last, he released you, a trace of crimson staining his lower lip. His eyes dilated as he savored the taste, his tongue leisurely tracing the contours of his mouth. Slowly, the anguish in your heart drew you away from the searing pain piercing your delicate neck. A sharp inhalation escaped your lips—a fractured breath laden with sorrow.

Oh, look! There it goes. Another piece of your sanity.

You were dying, you thought. You must be. You were convinced that this was it, that you were dying. Yet, you quickly realized that your previous understanding of death must have been flawed. This experience was an entirely distinct form of dying—a unique brand of agony that surpassed anything you had ever known before.

The soft sound of smooth metal slipped out of place. Someone opened your door.

Click.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER, OR I WILL BURY A BULLET IN YOUR HEAD!"

Knives' eyelids descended with deliberate slowness, his head shaking as he rose to his knees, gradually retreating. A treacherous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You're not that stupid, Vash," he remarked.

At long last, the death angel had arrived.

In the depths of my heart, you appear, my love,

But why, oh why, do you choose this moment?

When my strength wanes and weakness prevails,

Your arrival, my fickle love, seems untimely.

You hold the power to heal my wounded soul,

Yet you come forth after the breath of life has fled.

Oh, my love, so cold and unyielding,

Why did you not grace me with your presence earlier?

"DROP THE FUCKING KNIFE," Vash commanded, his voice devoid of humanity. For the first time, Knives flinched as if finally comprehending the glaring truth. His eyes widened, filled with horror and disbelief, and he fixated on you with a fit of twisted, newfound anger.

"No," he responded, a deranged chuckle escaping his lips. "Oh, brother, please. Please, don't tell me she has deluded you with romantic fantasies. Go ahead, shoot me if you dare. Test your luck!"

Perplexed, you struggled to comprehend why the walls had inexplicably shifted to the ceiling. The world around you seemed to teeter and sway as if it were stumbling sideways. The room itself rumbled beneath you, thundering with shouts and screams echoing through the space.

You had lost so much blood.

It looked like Knives was on his feet now, walking forward.

A sensation lingered as if someone were yelling your name, yet the sound eluded your ears. Everything appeared muted, muffled, and disorienting, as though the world was enveloped in a slippery and unsteady state. It felt as if whatever you were seeking was within arm's reach, yet just beyond your grasp, leaving you disconnected from its presence and unable to perceive or sense it fully.

A resounding gunshot filled the room, its echoes resonating through the air and coursing through your entire being, causing your heart to leap into your throat. Clenching your mouth tightly, you trembled uncontrollably, the sound of someone collapsing to the floor intensifying the tension within you.

Dizziness overcame you, causing a sluggishness to permeate your movements. Your head spun in disorientation, accompanied by an unfamiliar ringing that echoed within your ears.

"MY LEG! DID YOU SHOOT ME? Did YOU actually SHOOT me?! I can't believe this! DID YOU REALLY SHOOT ME?!"

Knives tumbled to the floor, blood quickly draining past the bloodied trousers and seeping onto the parquet floor. He attempted to shift, but the sound of Vash's voice froze him in place, arresting any further movement.

"HOW DARE YOU, KNI!" Vash bellowed with all his might, his voice laden with profound anguish. "THIS IS MY HOUSE! MY RULES! TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCK AROUND!"

With a gradual turn, Knives probably gazed at his younger twin. There was a particular stink to men who were faced with the consequences of their actions. They were fucking petrified, fully aware that they would be held accountable for their sins. Regardless of what they believed in, deep down, they knew damn well there was no hope of entering the gates of paradise.

With a blink that stretched into eternity, the world before you unfolded in a haze. Unfocused images danced in front of your eyes, a medley of colors, figures, and flickering lights merging into a disjointed symphony of motion. Sounds became distorted, garbled, and pitched too high or too low, making it difficult to discern them clearly.

Icy and electric sensations surged through your veins, akin to the awakening of a slumbering limb. Every part of your body seemed to tingle with renewed vitality. A face materialized before you, but your attempts to discern its shape, colors, and details proved arduous. Bringing everything into focus proved an insurmountable challenge.

Abruptly, a suffocating sensation enveloped you as if invisible blades lodged in your throat, puncturing your lungs. Each blink diminished your visual clarity, rendering the face before you increasingly hazy and obscured.

A wave of confusion swept over you, accompanied by a lightheaded sensation that permeated your being. The pain, oh, the pain—it was excruciating, reaching unimaginable depths. It seemed relentless, unyielding, an unending torrent of suffering that showed no sign of abating.

You felt the blood, felt it leaking out of you as you blinked and blinked and blinked, desperately hoping to restore your vision. But, all that greeted your eyes was a white haze, obscuring any discernible forms or details.

Shouts clamored, resembling a battlefield. Straining to comprehend the words amid the thunderous pounding in your ears, you couldn't make out a damn word because of blood loss and being on the verge of fainting.

As life seemed to drain away slowly, you couldn't help but think about how stupid a life you lived and how little you had truly lived. The majority of your years were spent cowering in misery, never standing up for yourself, and constantly striving to conform to the expectations of others. You desperately tried to fit into a mold that you hoped would bring comfort to those around you. Yet, it never provided solace. The haunting thought of dying without having accomplished anything plagued your mind. You felt like a nobody, a mere silly girl bleeding out on the cold floor of a psychotic man's basement. In that moment, you pondered how different things could have been if given another chance. You'd be better. You'd make something meaningful out of your life. You'd make a difference in this sorry, sorry fate. And you would start it by killing Knives.

It was too bad, you were already on the verge of death.

Regrettably, you shut your eyes and delved deep into the recesses of your being, summoning the final remnants of your strength. Despite the dire circumstances, an instinct within your body persisted, vehemently urging you to cling to life.

Anxiety consumed your nerves as the sound of someone's approach reached your ears, leaving your senses frayed and on high alert.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no.

Knives had returned. A choked sob rose in your throat, stifled by your trembling hand, as you discerned the sound of his footsteps. He wasn't going to let you die in peace, but you'd sooner slit your throat than let him touch you again.

With every step he took, vomit rose in your throat. You were on the verge of fainting until you saw his face. Your eyes widened further, and the fear quickly replaced with disbelief. Warm, blue eyes. They looked back at you, even though his features remained partially obscured by your fuddled senses. The evil was gone, and utter relief was staring right back at you.

 "Fuck, love, stay right here. Don't you fucking move," Vash exclaimed urgently, sinking to his knees beside you. A whimper escaped your throat, nearly choking as he extended his hand towards you.

"LIVIO! ACCOMPANY THAT BLUE RAT AND KNI OUT OF MY SIGHT!" Vash shouted. "ROLLO, TELL BRADD TO SEND MILLY TO MY ROOM! I NEED A FUCKING NURSE! RIGHT NOW!"

Amidst the flurry of hurried footsteps and Knives' menacing threats, promising that his brother would face dire consequences, Vash appeared to be completely oblivious to the words being hurled. Despite your best efforts, your gaze fixed upon him, revealing an entirely unprecedented sight, something you had never witnessed before.

Not to this degree, not like this.

Pain.

Vash was here, his face flushed, his chest heaving with each breath. His gaze locked onto you as if you were a specter, his eyes tracing every inch of your visage, every part of your wounded and bleeding form. His attention fixated on your neck, where the lingering marks inflicted by his brother likely remained. He was looking at you like he was about to break, like he had witnessed something in your visage that he wished he hadn't. You observed the motion in his throat, the difficulty he had in suppressing the sight before him.

Swiftly, he seized the sheet from your bed, enveloping you in its protective embrace, before gathering you into his arms. "Where it hurts?" he uttered in your ear. "FUCK! Can you hear me? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm here; I'm here now. I won't leave your side," he repeated, his words a burning chant.

He was here. He was real. He was here, and all you wanted to do was fall apart.

In a choked voice, you tried to mutter the words, "Va—" Overwhelmed by complete disbelief, your sobs erupted from deep within, seizing hold of your throat. They wracked your body so profoundly that your bones rattled under their force.

He wrapped you up in his arms, not caring about his men's sets of eyes watching both of you. His hold was firm, one arm securing your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. Your face was buried in his chest, and the familiar scent of his presence enveloped you. Oddly comforting. He tenderly stroked your back, his head leaning against your hurting temple. He murmured millions of apologies and promises that you were indifferent to hearing.

And then, he looked at you. He surveyed your bruised face, and the torment etched in his eyes nearly buckled your knees. He clutched you tighter, his arms cinched firmly around your waist. His touch was causing further pain to your body, but you didn't object, for you couldn't find the words to articulate that he, and only he, was the one you entrusted to hurt you—not others. Just him.

Then he uttered your name, his voice infused with sadness. And once more, he repeated it, savoring the sound as it rolled off his tongue.

"Fuck, you're so cold." His voice cracked as he rocked you both, vibrations rolling through him as he fought to keep it together. Piece by piece, you crumbled, fragments of your being falling and scattering like chips in a tumultuous waterfall of anguish. And you just knew that when Vash picked up your shattered pieces and stitched you back together, you'd be entwined to him forever.

His hands roamed mindlessly, traversing every surface of your body within range. From your head to your cheeks, down to your neck and across your shoulders, they emitted a comforting warmth, as if he was worshiping. You didn't ask him what he was doing or why. You wanted his ritual to unfold without interruption.

The feeling of his body molded against yours banished the screams that threatened to escape. This was freedom. This was liberation from hours of torment.

For now, he embodied everything that felt right. He radiated warmth and familiarity. His presence provided a sense of solidity and security. So, after enduring a sleepless nightmare, you finally felt safe enough to pass out.

The hell inside this man would burn the demons in the dark.

I hope this chapter didn't hurt you that much, because...

The poem is from an Azeri poet named Shahryar.

Taglist: @julk4e - @lune010 - @beanibon - @emptybrain01 - @changingchances @awkwardchick87 @enchantedforest-network

[shwarmii]

You know the books and like Clarisse and I haven't read the books yet, so maybe you can explain something for me? They say the gods don't always claim their kids especially if they don't have 'glory' yet, and they say (and I see on tumblr) that Ares doesn't like his girls, and he's overly mean and almost abusive to Clarisse, but she's HIS.

Does it ever say when/why he claimed her? Was it a possession thing even though he doesn't at first like her or approve of her? Did she do something special and he went yup that's my kid I guess?

this ask is referencing this post

oooooh, okay, uh... important things to note: (1) i have chronic memory loss, (2) i havent read these books in years, so let's see how i do from what i remember lmao

regardless, thank you for asking me a question! very sweet that you thought id have the answer

the answer will be a bit of a spoiler in terms of world-building, so lemme just

⚠️ pjo world-building + mild plot spoilers below ⚠️

so, the last book in the first series ("Percy Jackson and the Olympians") reveals most of the unclaimed kids are actually the demigod children of minor gods

these minor gods were implied to have been fearful of what might happen to their kids if their kids were claimed. because then, their kid would need their own cabin, and a minor god getting a set-up right next to the big 12 could cause anyone in said big 12 to percieve that act as a slight, and might take out that fury on either the said minor god in question OR their newly claimed kid. not even Hestia had a cabin for her kids, and she used to be in the main 12 until she stepped down for Dionysus to be amongst the big 12 instead (when the minor gods are allowed cabins, she gets cabin 21). Percy Jackson is the one who makes the demand that every god claims their kid within a time-frame of arriving at Camp Halfblood, which then gives the minor gods a pass to claim their kid without being worried they or their child will be punished for doing so

Riordan makes this a very small reveal, considering how important it is. but Percy isn't friends with any unclaimed kids really, all the people Percy meets who are new to Camp get claimed within the book they are introduced in. so there's no one to really be our emotional throughline for that reveal, nobody for fans to theorize who such-and-such's godly parent might be. it takes up only a few paragraphs, unfortunately, not much; definitely not a full chapter. i dont remember if there were any stragglers from the big 12's kids who had been unclaimed up to that point? i dont think there were many, if any. it sets up and disillusions in one go that the whole "you get claimed if you are worthy" as having been an assumption the kids made to find "logic" (in a self-deprecation way, similar to how divorced kids or kids of a single parent may "logic" their parental situatuon as their own fault) to their unclaiming

however, the toxic notion of "achieve glory = godly parental attention" is still prevelant in the claimed kids too. it is why Clarisse targets Percy; he comes into camp having already fought a minotaur and won? him doing that sets off her insecurities about not being worthy and makes her jealous, which is why she goes after him so often before Percy's first quest. there's very few chances for kids at camp Halfblood to prove themselves, unless they leave; and they only can leave by either sneaking out (and dying, or at least risking death) or going on a quest (which also risks their deaths). so any chance to prove themselves for glory, in friendly or unfriendly ways, is highly covetted

i mention this because Clarisse HAS proven herself to her dad in some way. her electric spear is from Ares. now, because we dont get a lot of gossip about WHY Ares gave her a gift (esp since he isnt the gift-giving sort. he values violence/battle prowress, strategy, and victory (regardless of if that is an "honorable victory" or not)). she likely proved herself in an above-average way from her cabin-mates but not in a legendary way. if it had been legendary, we wouldve heard about how she got her spear when people were warning Percy about Clarisse. and we know Clarisse didn't earn her spear as a reward for a quest (or as "good luck" gift before a quest), because Clarisse's first quest comes in a later book. but yeah, makes it all the harsher in this world where it is so hard to get godly parental attention that Percy broke the one token of it that Clarisse had (and, no, Ares never replaced it. tho Clarisse does get a new spear called "Maimer"; but all the kids, including her cabin-mates, call it "Lamer" behind her back unfortunately), and Percy breaking her spear definitely adds to her hatred of him. so Clarisse HAS proven herself to her dad once. and it is unlikely that she did something so great that he claimed her and gave her a spear in one go. so the two (her being claimed and her getting the spear) are likely unrelated events

now, did she prove herself in order to get claimed? perhaps. the big 12 gods tend to claim their kids as a reward within their first year or less of being there (fucked up that Poseidon chose "good job humilating that Ares girl who misdirected her anger to be at you" for Percy's, but okay). it isnt until Percy Jackson wins the war that he demandingky bargins for all gods to claim their kids. but yeah, out of the big 12 (minus the Big Three, minus Artemis, and minus Hera = 7 gods), they all are decently prompt when it comes to their own kids. they are implied ot have been, at least. again, very few stragglers, if any, that were not the demigods of minor gods within the books

Dionysus especially was prompt (bc he is AT the camp). which, i know this is a tangent, but i gotta talk about Dionysus as a godly parent because the books barely do. but part of his punishment regarding being exiled to Camp Halfblood isnt just about his punishment being no throwing parties and no Olympus. his punishment is his own kids, and not in the way that initially sounds. Camp Halfblood kids dont live long. theyre considered lucky to make it to college-age, and absurdly lucky to get to their 30s. Percy himself never imagines himself getting older. this fucked up lifespan is resolved in many ways thanks to the "Heroes of Olympus" series. but, before then? Dionysus' exile is about being forced to be a present figure in his kids' life and watch them all die tragically young, being forced to help bury them. he's actually very traumatized from it all. he even begs Percy at one point to keep an eye out for any Dionysus kids during the war's final battle; and he even runs up to some of his kids who survived (i think? it was his twin girls?) and hugs them, crying. we dont get to know any of Dionysus' kids through virtue of none of them being friends of Percy, so we don't get to really know how Dionysus is like as a parent, especially as a godly one that is very present in his kids' lives. we get glimpses of him in the background, and for a guy who misdirects all his bitter anger about his exile onto the campers who are not his kid... he sounds lovely to his own kids? idk, thats at least from what i remember. shitty and bitter to other kids at camp, very loving in a quiet and traumatized way to his own. its not an excuse but it does make sense. (its also why he hates Percy; his presence means dangerous things will happen as long as he is alive, which therefore puts his own kids in danger. ...maybe thats why Percy isnt friends with any of Dionysus' kids, maybe he forbade them from getting close to Percy? idk)

but yeah, the big 12 are all p good about claiming their kids in the book, in retrospect once its revealed that the unclaimed children are largely the minor gods' kids. the timeline Percy forces them into does demand they somewhat untangle the "claimed as a reward" aspect too which is nice, they now just have to claim their kids p much as they are (unless their kid doesnt something great FAST), and not during a moment where it is good for the godly parent's image to be associated with this "moment of glory"

that being said, that doesn't mean Ares is a good dad in the books. the one moment we do see Ares and Clarisse together is in a later book, and she is uncomfortable in his presence and one time even flinches around him. i dont think Ares physically abuses his kids, mostly because i dont think he is present enough in any of his kids' lives to find a fucked up "reason" to hit them (i would not be surprised if the flinch and whatnot was from a sparring match gone too rough the last time they met tho). i think it is more so a flinch because Mrs. La Rue likely has gone after similar men to Ares, therefore making visual markers of Ares (eg. a leather jacket, motorcycle, etc) triggers to Clarisse's mind to be on guard as these other men have been unpredictable and/or abusive; and Ares hasnt been around Clarisse enough for her to trust him not to be the same nor does she trust him enough to be comfortable in general around him (as it's an Event when her dad shows up, not just some Tuesday). and that's in the books. thats not accounting for the tv show deciding "Clarisse will never be good enough to Ares because she is not one of his sons" (which i think makes sense in a representation point of view; but i also think it makes less sense sense about Ares specifically. because Athena is also a god of war, and theres even evidence that Aphrodite is/was a god of war when she was initially worshipped, so Ares is aware of women being equal and capable; Ares was also the patron of Sparta, which was the city-state with the most rights for women, one of which was that it was only one that allowed women to protect themselves against their husbands. and you could also argue, due to some of his actions in his legends, that Ares protected mistreated women. however, "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" states that Olympus' move to New York meant that the gods changed to better reflect their enviroment, and Ares is the most likely best-fit to represent the Western/American brand of toxic masculinity. so. his depiction in the books works well enough for a man still in an affair with Aphrodite who upholds glory in battle as the pinnacle of human greatness, and his built-up depiction in the show to be more abusive and sexist does and doesnt make sense. i care more about representation and a good story than i do have Ares be academically perfect to how we understand his lore to have made him out to be, personally). but yeah, in both versions, he's been set up as a shitty dad. he's inattentive and lacking self-awareness at best (and, again, is still actively having an on/off affair with Aphrodite, which no doubt complicates his kids' feelings for him the same way any irl dad cheating and/or paying more attention to his girlfriend than to his kids would) in the books. which does then feed into Clarisse's relationship with him. Ares, like many of the gods, sees their kids as extentions or representations of themselves. so its good when things are good and you make them proud, but then anything you do badly then "reflects badly on them too" which can be really damaging to a kid

the only gods we see as exempt from this mindset of extension/representation (other than obviously Hera and Artemis, as neither have any biological demigod children. Artemis does have her mistresses of the hunt tho) is arguably Dionysus as aforementioned, kind of Poseidon as he keeps trying to connect with Percy (also maybe Hades for the same? we don't see him a lot, so it is hard to tell), as well as Apollo kind of? Apollo had his initial personality kind of backtracked and retroactively better-dad-ified, as he got his own POV book series ("The Trials of Apollo"), which includes a very heartfelt scene for when he got reunited with his son, Will Solace. so the gods arent terrible parents with all the same ideaologies, but they are absent more than they are present (with the exception of Dionysus, whose punishment is to be present and get attached 💔 not an encouraging move, guys)

which brings up another important point: that we dont really get other points of view in the first series, Percy is all we get. and though Clarisse is his ally (i love that Riordan did not have her betray the camp for the war in the first series. she just doesnt fucking like Percy lol), she is his most argumentative ally. in order for the reader to know Clarisse's backstory and know if she had to earn her claiming or not (which again: i dont think she had to. she may have been manipulated to think she did tho via the whole "i will claim you as a reward/i will claim you when it makes me look good and i can have some of your spotlight" bit), as well as learn how she earned her electric spear from Ares that Percy broke, Clarisse or someone close to her would have to sit down and tell Percy about it. and Clarisse wouldnt do that because she is not close with Percy; and nobody close to Clarisse would do that because they know Clarisse would feel betrayed if they talked about her private stuff to anybody, Percy or otherwise. all we really know about Clarisse La Rue's backstory is she was born in Phoenix, Arizona; and the satyr who led her to Camp Halfblood was Gleeson Hedge. that's it.

and i have a lot of complaints about how Rick Riordan writes (mostly how he writes women and people of color, especially women of color. but other parts of his writing does suck too). and part of the novel aspects of the new show is it allows "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" have a new re-write with a team of writers (which does still include Riordan), so there are likely things that will be changing. hopefully, unclaimed children will have a spotlight (i would love to have a show-exclusive character be unclaimed, but thats unlikely to happen). again, i havent seen the show yet, but it is possible that they will not follow the books in the aforementioned claiming details and will instead go "no, all claimings happen in a moment of glory", rather than "it was going to happen if you were a kid of the main 12 regardless, and we are just waiting to do it when it most looks good for us to announce you are ours". maybe they will explain the circumstances around Clarisse's claiming and spear, i dunno. the first series of books are all written in First Person POV and limited to just Percy's, and the nature of television is to be more Third-Person Omniscient, so there is a good chance we will learn things outside of what Percy knows this time around

but yeah! that's the climate around claiming and parenthood at Camp Halfblood, which even impacts claimed kids post-claiming; and everything we know about Clarisse past and her relationship with Ares before Percy Jackson arrives (at least in the books, lol) if you read this far, i do apologize that this is very long and that i kind of meander into some tangents. i have a habit of overexplaining. however, i hope that makes sense!✌️

[meimi-haneoka]

Do you really think Clamp left too many “loose ends” in Clear Card? I mean, it's true that we don't know where Momo is, but I don't think there are as many unsolved mysteries as a lot of people say. What do you think?

No, that's true, anon! For the most part, all the main mysteries were solved. If people perceive there are still unsolved mysteries it's either:

because they haven't re-read the story and the answer is already in the story itself, it's just that in full CLAMP-style, it isn't spoon-fed to the readers (CLAMP want us to use our brain a lot, in Clear Card)

it is meant to stay a secret, to make things interesting and stimulate the fan's imagination, like what Yukito gave as a price when he made the pact with the Tsukimine Shrine. But at the end of the day, does it change anything, to know what he paid with? If it was anything relevant to the plot, we would know. The important thing is that thanks to this pact, he was able to help in a very critical situation. Or like Momo's true name. While the revelation of Akiho and Kaito's true names is used inside the story as a way to convey other things (feelings, most of all), Momo didn't really need to reveal her true name to us, as an ethereal and ageless being. It is a mystery on the level of "Yuuko Ichihara"'s mystery.

My opinion is that there were parts that deserved to be explored better, especially about the new characters since we learn to know them in this arc, to reconnect things better.

The first thing I really wish they reconnected better was the whole synchronization between Sakura and Akiho. We're completely left on our own to tie the threads on how that worked. Who started it? We have to assume it's part of Kaito's plan, since he's not surprised when it first happens. Though he doesn't really say clearly that it was his (or Momo's book's) job. Akiho seems to be tuning into Sakura's dreams sometimes. But not all of them might be because of the synchronization. That one time Akiho says that she dreamt of being in a high place, wishing for something someone had, might have been a normal dream, and CLAMP framed it in a way that made it seem like she was dreaming of being the Mysterious Cloaked Figure. What was the purpose of the synchro? To "prepare" them for their life as twins in the future? They do say that twins have such a connection that they end up thinking the same things.... Why Akiho needed to read about Sakura's adventures in the Alice in Clockland book? There are some elements we can use to give ourselves some answers, but they're very vague. Admittedly, this is the ONE part I really wish CLAMP executed better.

Then, we have a sort of "gap" in the period when Kaito decided to accompany Akiho in her journey. It is completely left up to us to imagine what went through his mind when he raised his hand and said "I'll go", that day. (Truth to be told, we have few elements we can work with, and I'd say that his journey started for a reason, and turned quickly into something else the more he spent time with Akiho). Like, he was always wearing that "dead" expression before meeting Akiho, what made him think to learn to smile in light of their first meeting? Was Momo the one teaching him? We only have a couple of lines between him and Momo thrown around in the Drama CD to go by: "And laugh more properly, even if it's a fake laugh!" "Hm, I'm trying my best though...". We could infer that Kaito still had a hard time learning how to express his emotions. Thankfully, all the smiles he gave Akiho were portrayed as absolutely genuine. But knowing "how it started" I think would've outlined Kaito's character and motivations better. Or the whole "how Akiho parents died" matter that I've already mentioned somewhere else (and at this point the non-mention makes me think it was a reason too harsh to mention in Nakayoshi).

It's also to be noted that some things were portrayed in a certain way to give us a sense of danger and make us fall into the trap of prejudice towards newcomers (another theme of this arc), for example in Sakura's dreams there's a scene of the Dragon (Kaito) that opens its mouth and "shoots an attack" at her. That scene never happened in reality. It was definitely meant to "scare us", but now that we know that the Dragon was absolutely inoffensive, we must elaborate that as a byproduct of Sakura's anxiety. After all, it is a foretelling dream, but still a dream influenced by subconscious.

Yeah, stuff like that. However, when I talk about "open ending", I'm not talking about those "issues", I can make peace with those...after all, it's a story that lasted 80 chapters and 7 years and half, one of the longest in CLAMP's catalogue. It's difficult to hold the reins tight on a story so full of foreshadowings and complex matters. Moreover, the series has been criticized both in Japan and abroad for "not being Sakura's story" (that's not true at all), because fans couldn't stand how in this arc Sakura shared the storyline and spotlight with other characters. People wanted the mysteries connected to Akiho and Kaito to be revealed, but at the same time didn't want CLAMP to talk about them, to focus a chapter on them. Like??? How does that make sense?? So it makes me think that what we got is already a lot, in the situation we were in.

When I say "open ending" I'm actually talking about all the new stuff they added in the last chapter, that really is giving everyone the feeling of "there's going to be more, right?" Cause it's weird that you end a story like that. While you finish explaining the last details of what happened to the Clear Cards and Sakura Cards, and the aftermath of Sakura's huge spell, you introduce the travel of two characters, you give a very detailed explanation of what they're going to do, you leave up in the air the "will they actually find a way to heal Kaito and make his time start again?", and you don't make one of the most important characters appear?? Momo?? The one who was basically a backbone of this arc, without her intervention in the finale Sakura would've never known that her world was rewritten? That also seemed to me like such an out-of-character move, for how caring and maternal they portrayed Momo to be. Leaving her kids like that. I can't imagine that we'll be left forever out there without knowing what happened to Momo. Even if her choice was to move on, they should've mentioned it clearly. And needless to say, Kaito offering to teach Syaoran about time magic (surely as a way to thank him) was another seemingly "additional" plot thread one could grasp onto, in case they wanted to resume this one day.

That's why I feel CLAMP have left so many opportunities to talk about these characters again, in any possible way (another arc, a spin off, a cameo in another manga), and created an "open ending", as opposed to how "closed" felt the original ending.

[a-student-out-of-time]

MOD

I SWEAR

YOU HAVE TO BE CORRECT THAT AREI IS ALIVE

IF YOU ARENT

I WILL COMMIT ATROCITIES

//I've seen continuous doubts about my theory, and for both Timeline Anon and others, this scene felt to them like the final nail in the coffin for that theory

//The fact that you're all immediately writing her off as dead when we're not even at the halfway point and there are so many unanswered questions is astounding.

//Ahem.

//If she's gone, explain to me why there's still so many unanswered plot threads and interesting character details

Why is it that J was the one who brought up that secret? A secret that Arei herself admitted she overheard, which directly lead into that flashback scene with those two?

Why has J been going so ham on Arturo this entire time? Yes, one could easily say it's because she's sick of him and put two and two together, but honestly, it seems like a bit of a leap from "you told me you wished you had a brother like mine instead of a sister" to "your sister killed herself"

//Again, I can totally understand her being vindictive over this, given all the shit Arturo's caused her and Eden. But from how Arturo was acting, honestly, I'm inclined to believe he didn't actually say anything like that

//But you know what makes perfect sense? The details that lead into my next point

3. We have an established time frame thanks to the alibis. We know that the scene with Arei and Eden took place not long after the playground breakdown.

//That means that was a large window of time for the two of them to switch places. But why?

//That's incredibly sweet, and we know she wants more friends. And we know that, at the same time, J has been dealing with Arturo. Arei just saw J pull a scalpel on Eden over his secret, so why wouldn't she want to immediately jump to the other person she likes in her own way?

//The person that's had to deal with him far longer than Eden. Why wouldn't she want to give J a hand after that?

4. Again, we know that Arei knows that there's a murderer in the group, and even if the switch wasn't about that specifically, that probably means that she was likely trying to help with that. This means that, if the blackened of this case isn't the murderer, she had no idea who actually did it. Why reveal herself then? That would make her the most suspicious.

5. Maybe it's just me, but I can't shake the feeling that J has been acting weird these last few episodes. She's an aggressive person, and admitted in her intro that she's judgemental, but there's never been indication that she's been this vindictive. Even regarding her own secret, this feels especially harsh.

6. This moment right here feels interesting to focus on

//Of all things to say?

7. The biggest one for me right now is actually Charles and Whit. Clearly, those two know something's up. There may not be a conspiracy going on in this group like I initially thought, but Whit is another person who Arei clearly was close with last chapter. He was the one who cut off Teruko learning about the note at first, and then there's this bit after Eden's story

//What are you two up to? What are you hiding?

//I'd almost be tempted to say they're suggesting Arei was actually lying, but that feels at odds with the ways they've acted and what they're saying. Not to mention Charles looks more embarrassed than concerned or angry

//Furthermore, there's the fact that there was so much attention drawn to Charles having a secret, including a CG and telling Teruko to reveal it during the trial...and then we got no follow-up on that. He was just like "Oh yeah, guess I didn't need to. It was Eden's."

//I don't buy it. There's clearly more going on here

8. Finally, the fact that they had an emotional scene like this? Not even halfway into the trial? If it was after the intermission or near the climax, if that was the last scene we got with Arei, I might've bought it. But putting it here? Not a chance. This has to be leading somewhere.

//Plus, you know who else was convinced their best friend was dead? Shuichi and Maki. And guess what? Them believing Kaito was dead was all part of the plan

//There's also the many, many unanswered questions throughout this chapter, from what it was Arei's crying reminded her of (again, still not followed up on), to Teruko's prosopagonsia (no, that isn't just here to set up something for a future case, I'm sure of it), to whatever the hell is going on with Nico, Hu, David and Ace, who are part of their own drama right now

//Yeah, sorry, I'm only increasingly convinced that I'm right about this. Admittedly, we keep getting thrown so many curveballs that it's getting harder to make sense of it all regarding the exact motive.

//But the fact that J has said things that it seems like only Arei would say and do, particularly being vindictive toward Arturo? And acted in weird ways, like being super concerned about Arei's well-being early on, saying things like "even if the person you tried to kill is still alive," all of it just odd to me

//I'm not in denial and I'm not saying this as copium, I mean that earnestly. There are so many weird writing moments and character bits, combined with hanging plot threads, that it leads me to believe that this is what they're building up to. It's really the only thing that makes sense to me right now

//Clearly they had a plan with Arei from the beginning, given that we got this huge emotional scene with her and Eden, but that can't be all there is to it. It's a sad and emotionally satisfying moment for her character to end on, but placing it here so early honestly leaves me convinced there's more to come

[jinxthejubilee]

Venus - We Need to Talk (Again)

Back here again, aren't we? I'm so sorry, but I just can't help myself.

Because I have just discovered that there were plans to reveal not just one, but TWO lost turtles in ROTTMNT, I will discuss the story potential both Venus and Slash could have, should this show ever come back. (Please Nickelodeon, do something right for once and give us this show back-) But I must finish Venus first, before moving on to Slash.

And for those of you who might ask about Jennika, I thought about making her own page to hold out hope that she could make it into the Rise universe, only to come to the tragic realization that it was highly unlikely that she could ever appear in the show, given that Venus and Slash are pretty infamous as characters, and that the creators said that there were 2 missing turtles and not 3. My apologies to all Jennika stans.

Anyway, I did talk about Venus already, yes, but after revisting her backstory from The Next Mutation, I've come to the conclusion that her debut story isn't all bad? Yeah, I can't believe I just said that either.

I'll give the Next Mutation writer's 15-year-old brains credit, the idea that Venus was adopted by someone else and learned ninjutsu/magic is a cool concept, if explored correctly.

Since it's been pretty well-established that Big Mama's assistant was likely going to be revealed as Venus, I have an idea as to how she got there.

Now I could be wrong, but I believe that Big Mama's assistant debuted in Season 2. Whether or not she was just hired or was hiding out until the time was right, who can say.

For those of you who don't know or simply wiped that show from your memory, Venus was raised by Master Chung I, a human martial artist who taught Venus everything he knew.

Chung I died after confronting the Dragon Lord and demanding that he release Splinter. And his last words to Venus were for her to travel to New York City.

Now if I were in charge, I would keep some similarities to this, but obviously take some creative liberties.

In my Rise version of event, Draxum's lab explodes, the boys and Splinter take off, and Venus and Slash are presumed by Draxum to have died.

Instead of Venus' father being a human, I would make him a yokai, who finds her somehow and takes her to the farthest end of the Mystic City.

This father-figure would parallel Splinter in a few ways:

He would simultaneously be responsible, yet neglectful at the same time. The guy would be very much a loner with a tragic past, so while he would take care of Venus physically, her emotionally needs are something he simply can't and would not handle.

He would never leave his home. Granted, it would be hard to do so, as he lives very, very far away from other yokai, but he just refuses to interact with anyone he doesn't have to. But not because he's lazy, it would likely be due to paranoia and his strict moral code to keep his whatever he's keeping secret, safe from everyone.

Less of a father, and more of a master. A total flip from Rise Splinter, who focused more on fatherhood than teaching his sons dangerous martial arts, this guy is "teacher first, father second."

I see him as a cat. Not sure why I went with that, but it was a cool idea I thought of while brainstorming. While Splinter is an overweight, yet agile rat, I imagine Chung I would be a skeletal, agile, and exhausted cat.

I even have a sketch I drew.

Honestly, just think of 2012 Master Splinter for a frame of reference on his personality. He's still wise and knowledgeable, but instead of kind and compassionate, he's grumpy, unwelcoming, and snappy.

Not the greatest upbringing for Venus: living in isolation and rarely going outside, only knowing and living with one person her entire life, training constantly every single day, and being told that her emotions should never interfere with her duty, but she knows that it's the best for her! Poor thing...

So how does this play into how Venus became Big Mama's assistant? Allow me to explain:

The whole reason why Venus' father isolated himself and Venus was because of an ancient prophecy. I haven't worked out all the logistics of the prophecy, but basically he needs to protect that sacred amulet he has around his neck, or the Dragon Lord will rise once more.

Unfortunately, shenanigans happen and the Dragon Lord is awakened, but not at full power. Though he has just enough to kill Chung I.

Heartbroken and determined to stop the Dragon Lord, Venus travels through the Mystic City for any information on another ancient weapon that could destroy the beast once and for all.

This leads to her meeting Big Mama and learning about the Battle Nexus tournaments.

Whether Venus likes Big Mama or not, I haven't decided, but she's honestly just using her to gain battle experience and knowledge on everything going on within the Mystic City and/or the surface.

Depending on when all of this happened, she might have become Big Mama's assistant at least several months to a year prior to the boys being introduced to her in Season 2.

I picture that the big reveal of Venus being their sister would play out a bit similarly to how I discussed previously. I loved looking through everyone's ideas about Venus, and I can say without a doubt, that the amount of fanfare behind ROTTMNT and Venus overall is worth Nickelodeon bringing back this show.

Note: Well! I hope you all enjoyed this! If you read till the end, thank you very much! Please tell me what you think of my ideas, that would be very much appreciated! Until next time with my comments, concerns, and ideas about Slash, have a great day everyone! Byeee! 💗

[natsspammityspamspamham]

Social Anxiety and Pretty Privilege in Anime

Disclaimer: If you enjoy any of the following anime the way they are and do not want my take on this, feel free to skip this post. I'm not saying that any of these shows are bad in any way, but I will be looking at it from a viewer's perspective on how well it portrays social anxiety disorders. I do have social anxiety myself, but I am hardly the poster dino for it as the condition varies from person to person. This is just my own take on my own blog, and you're free to disagree, but I encourage you to do so respectfully as my feelings are easily hurt.

Some more anime were added below.

Anime Mentioned:

Komi-san wa, Comyushou desu.

Cool Doji Danshi

Romantic Killer

*(I did not finish Cool Doji Danshi or Komi-san season 2)

The Halo Effect: The halo effect is the tendency for positive impressions of a person, company, brand, or product in one area to positively influence one's opinion or feelings in other areas (Wikipedia). In this case, we will be looking at it in the case of people who are conventionally good-looking being seen more positively. This specificity also describes the popular term: Pretty Privilege.

Since this is the only anime in the list that I finished, I will start things off here. Romantic Killer does a great job portraying symptomology of social anxiety even if it would more closely resemble PTSD in this character's case (although I'm not an expert on the topic). His behaviours and responses change his everyday life, and when it's revealed why he reacts in certain ways, it is not romanticized in any way. It's not played for giggles. If anything, it subverts the trope of the "cool guy" to a whole new level. I'm not saying that shows need to get on his level of backstory (because quite frankly, I don't want every show I'm watching to turn into a psychological thriller in the last few episodes), but I like how this show interprets the symptomology of a panic attack in a way that feels incredibly realistic. For a show that is literally 99% comedy, they certainly got me there.

I get what Cool Daji Danshi is trying to go for, and I do support it even if I can't get behind it or agree with it. Cool Doji Danshi goes with the approach of "These guys are clumsy and make mistakes, but they deal with it in different ways!" I watched the first four episodes to get a feel on what the show was trying to get at and what each of the guy was supposed to represent. The running theme seems to be that besides their social awkwardness and clumsiness all of them are conventionally good-looking in their universe, and people around them react unusually understanding and well because of it. People like me, not conventionally attractive with social anxiety, do not get this luxury whatsoever. If I mess up, it isn't an "oh, he's so cool even when he's absent-minded!" it's a "Never do that shit again. It's embarrassing, dude.", an incredibly judgemental stare, or just the conveyed emotions of absolute pity.

The same thing goes for Komi-san. Komi-san is described as a beautiful ethereal being, and everyone in the whole universe of that anime knows that. This is essentially Cool Doji Danshi's issue for me and cranking it up to a comedic level while consolidating all of it into one character. When I'm nonverbal, unable to speak, and sweating in social situations, it makes the atmosphere awkward. It makes things uncomfortable, and I know that this anime is built on overly exaggerated tropes, but I can't agree with a portrayal that uses the disorder for comedic effect. It just doesn't work for me. Nothing about these experiences is funny, and while there is a time and place to laugh at yourself, this show just felt exhausting to the point of being exploitative towards the disorder.

I wanted to focus on anime that are mostly framed around less heavy and more comedic tones (I swear, Romantic Killer is usually funny and lighthearted). There are other shows that tackle this too that I didn't mention like Welcome to the NHK or the notorious Watamote. There are other more serious anime that take on similar topics such as A Silent Voice and Anohana, but those are far from comedic.

As someone who runs into hurdles and difficulties daily due to social anxiety, it's nice to know that there is representation for people like me. However, I feel that some of these works shift the tone to comedic by making sure that those with social anxiety as an MC or lead character are inherently attractive. To me, social anxiety isn't being perceived as "cool and stoic" with a side of cute awkwardness. It can lead to you making bad social decisions, having a damaged perception of how the outside world looks, and it can seriously impede your everyday life (seriously, failed my driving test twice because I couldn't stop shaking and crying due to a stranger sitting in the car with me). It's not pretty, it's hardly comedic, and it would sure be nice to have a more mainstream show that shows that people with social anxiety can grow with the proper help and support without being born with good looks.

EDIT: Some more anime that came from Anon and my personal viewing.

Tsuritama was a fun watch! I don't remember a ton since I watched it years ago, but it is a relatable representation of what it feels like to drown in anxiety. It's also wacky. I never thought I'd like the duck that much.

I didn't watched Ookiku Furikabutte because I'm not a sports anime person, but I hear it's good!

Bocchi the Rock was not only a great watch, but I found it was an extremely accurate representation as well! Even though it was played off for comedic purposes, I can't say that it wasn't accurate to my being (seriously, even the exaggerated bits were a bit too much like me). Sure, it's an anime that's supposed to be marketed on "cute girls doing cute things", but it never actually says that social anxiety is cute. Heck, it even distinguishes the difference between introversion and social anxiety!

((That's me with my double bass. I hate it (joking)))

[statementlou]

OH I really need your opinion about Louis being so emotionally intelligent, I think it's barely even talked about it here

ARE people not talking about it? What a funny thought! As a post-hiatus fan, I'm accustomed to thinking of myself as something of a newcomer, even though it's been years now, so it's weird to realize I've been here long enough to see patterns and trends come and go and come again. It's even weirder the way trends in fandom can be completely forgotten and erased when the boys, in contrast, eternally exist in all times at once, everything they've ever said considered to be equally valid to their current lives whether they said it 12 years ago as teens or just yesterday as whole ass adult men! Anyway my point is, there was certainly a time when Louis' emotional intelligence was discussed a lot, AS IT SHOULD BE. For sure so much when Walls came out it was... those LYRICS!! Yes, without that gift he's still gorgeous and smart and embodies a unique and bewitching gender presentation and has a beautiful and captivating singing voice… I guess there are a lot of other reasons people might like him. But to me the thought of that not being the top of anyone's "why Louis" list is bananas, it feels so absolutely central and necessary to understanding what makes him special!

It's certainly a lot of what makes his songs resonate with people- he's a skillful lyricist, he could craft clever little twists of phrase and metaphors regardless, but it's his emotional intelligence that sets him apart imo. He describes it as honesty, and yes- the willingness to be vulnerable and reveal your feelings is special, but what I don't know if he even really realizes is that for so many people it's not just an unwillingness to open up honestly like he does, it's that they are genuinely unable to identify and understand and name what's happening inside them like that. I think it comes so naturally to him that maybe it can be hard for him to recognize that that experience isn't universal.

I really appreciate that you used the words emotional intelligence specifically, I love that phrase; I think framing it as a form of intelligence is correct and important. It's a skill set that is dismissed as "feminine" and so less important or easier to access than intellectual intelligence, but it's none of those things. And it's a minority of people who, like Louis, are both intellectually and emotionally very very sharp. I'd say it's a reason he was been able to stay such a good person in the face of things that can easily ruin people (being rich and famous from a young age, trauma and loss), and it's certainly what enables him to be so good at his job. It elevates his songwriting above the ordinary, but also it gives him the tools to do the dance of giving the public something to connect with and making it feel like he's completely open and present without actually giving away too much, which would be absolutely impossible without emotional intelligence- if you don't know your own boundaries or can't intuit on the fly what people respond to, it simply falls flat and seems forced. We've been seeing him exercise those skills close up and in person over the last few days in the signings, making everyone feel special and held and like they got a personal special moment without actually telling anyone anything much or going overtime or getting sucked in to any weird interactions! Again, something that would be nearly impossible without those kind of people skills.

It's actually really funny the way the discourse recently (speaking of changing tides in fandom) has been focused on the idea of Louis presenting himself as masculine (is there a relationship between that and the lack of chat about his EI? hm), when I feel like in the past he was the most feminized by fandom, and not because of his mannerisms or look, but because of his willingness to embrace his emotional intelligence- to cry/ talk about crying openly, to share readily about his feelings and be vulnerable, all these things coded as feminine. He himself has said that he doesn't think he's anything special in this regard (or especially feminine, I think is part of the subtext to that) because Northern Brit men are just like that. I'm from the US so I'm not the one to really respond to that, but it seems to me that does contain some truth- I have seen a willingness to cry openly, to talk about vulnerabilities, etc, in other men with public personas from up there- but I think that again, what we're saying is that's he's showing more than just that, that we're talking about his emotional intelligence quotient being unusually high, which is not a regional characteristic, but a personal one.

[showfallmediamaintenance]

[Video transcript begin.] 

[The recording is blurry, as someone jogs up to something indistinguishable. Everything appears as a blob of colour, the most prominent ones being grey and white. The camera stops shaking, and finally is able to refocus. The video is taken from the front pocket of a dress shirt, as are most.]

?: I don’t think I’ve been over here more than three times…

[Voice identified: Edgar.]

[In frame, a broken brown door. On a nameplate near the top the words “Editorial room #4” are seen. Closer to the bottom, multiple bloodied handprints and the name “Ruby” written multiple times in dried blood. Seemingly somewhere around or over a few months old.]

E: … This is probably where I need to be, huh.

[Edgar walks over to the door, before entering the room.]

[The room is dark, with the exception of a phone light. And a blue lantern sitting on a desk, the walls and floor are covered in dried blood. Older than the blood on the door. Sitting in an office chair is a person in a blue hoodie, the hood down revealing their pink hair. The sound of a drink being drunk is heard.]

E: Hello?

?: Give me a minute, I'm drinking hot chocolate.

[Voice identified: Emi.]

E: Dude. Seriously?

Em: Yes! It's cold in here, you want a pack? It's not poisoned. I bought it from Walmart.

[Edgar sighs.]

E: Fine. Sure. Whatever.

Em: Cool.

[Emi tosses a small white packet behind her.]

[Edgar moves to catch it, but it falls to the floor, his hand missing by an inch. He crouches down and picks it up.]

Em: Damn-

E: Okay. What’s your angle here? Why are you giving me fucking hot chocolate. 

[Emi sighs.]

Em: Listen dude. I'm not gonna lie to you, I hate you. But unlike that purple bitch, it's not impossible for me to be nice when I want to be nice.

E: Neat. Are you done drinking your hot chocolate? I’d like to start this fight before the logical part of my brain tells me to leave.

Em: Oh yeah, you ready?

[Emi spins around, wearing an white eyepatch and the bottom half of an oni mask, painted in red. Holding up a pocket knife.]

E: Ready as I’ll ever be. Can I have a second to put a few things off to the side? I don’t know how easy it would be to replace this phone.

Em: My dad taught me to treat every fight with honor, even if you hate the person with a passion. Go ahead bro.

[Edgar places the phone on a desk, allowing a view of the full room to be recorded. He also puts the packet on the desk out of frame. After he’s done, he hefts his crowbar into the air, raising his eyebrows at Emi.]

Em: You sure you really want to do this? Like, I hate you. But if you wanna back out I won't stop you.

E: I’m sure, but it seems like you aren’t. 

Em: I mean… You still don't know what happens if I win, but let's get this over with, I have planning to do.

[Edgar nods, and wastes no time in swinging his crowbar at Emi’s torso, she ducks out of the way before it can collide. The momentum sends Edgar stumbling forward.]

[Emi uses the momentum to punch Edgar in the upper arm area, causing him to fall before jumping up and swinging again. Emi ducks it.]

Em: COME ON EDGAR! GOTTA BE FASTER THAN THAT!

[Edgar switches where his hands are on the crowbar, now allowing the crowbar to be used as a sort of spear. He lunges forward and rams the rounded end of the crowbar into Emi’s ribs.]

Em: SON OF A BITCH-

[Emi falls to the ground, before swinging the pocket knife at Edgar's legs, slicing them multiple times.]

[No response from Edgar, as he grabs her hair and slams her head into a desk.]

[Emi grabs her head, blood slowly falling from where he slammed her head down.]

Em: I COULD TELL ROSE ABOUT RUBY! I COULD GIVE HER INFO SHE DOESN'T HAVE! WHAT DO YOU GET FROM KILLING ME?

E: Honestly, nothing. But then again, what do I get from keeping you alive?

[He kicks the pink haired woman, no other emotion than pure neutrality in his voice.]

Em: Help! You get help… [Whispered.] Gotcha.

[Emi grabs an empty plant pot, bashing it into Edgar's leg. He stumbles pretty badly, giving Emi the chance to stand up.]

Em: Let me ask Edgar, what happens if you kill me? What happens to Rose when she does things alone?

E: Can’t really think of anything other than ‘you die,’ dude. What are you implying here.

Em: Rose would have died from her wounds if I didn’t help her right? To think, poor little Rosie cut herself open because of you.

[Emi stomps on Edgar's foot, her eyebrows showing she is smiling through this all.]

[Edgar shouts as her foot is brought down, before he grabs Emi’s arm and sinks his teeth into it. He pushes her arm away from him, tearing off the chunk he’d bitten. Which he then swallows. Before making an odd facial expression. It's a mix of disgust and a tiny bit of disbelief. Both emotions appear to be targeted inwards.]

E: Okay, never doing that again. That felt... very wrong. Different from the other times.

Em: You really are a fucking monster, huh?

[Emi grabs Edgar before he can respond and knees him in the gut, blood dripping from her arm onto the back of Edgar's shirt.]

[He coughs violently for a few seconds, before he lifts his head to look at Emi again. His grip on the crowbar tightens, his hands now back to where they were before.]

Em: How can Rosie care about someone like you? You eat human flesh, and you helped make and set up the death box for Showfall. You deserve to be dead.

E: Seems like someone forgot how masks work. And what makes you any better, huh? What things have you done to grant you a spot in heaven?

Em: I never said that Edgar, I know I'm going to hell. The difference between you and me? I didn't eat living human flesh.

E: [A chuckle.] I don’t plan to make more of a habit of it. Just following through with a threat. 

[Emi kicks the man in the side, laughing as she does. He stumbles sideways and falls.]

Em: How much longer until you’re just like the rest of this company? You're already friends with Iris despite knowing she has Sparrow's best friend under lock and key.

E: If you want a true estimate, I don’t think I could ever be ‘just like the rest of this company.’ Even if I wanted to.

Em: Hm… And what about Sparrow? You could try and help their friend, instead. You listed reasons for them to like Iris?

E: I don’t know why you think that my fuck-up gives you the right to pretend to give a shit about Sparrow, but it doesn’t. You can drop the act now.

Em: I don't care Edgar, I just find it funny you act like some high and mighty hero. When all you've ever managed to do is hurt the people who care about you.

E: I’m not a hero, never wanted to be one, either. Kinda just trying to survive. Now, are we ready to keep fighting? Or do you want to break down my non-existent self esteem a little more?

Em: Just thinking.

[Emi stabs Edgar in the shoulder, Edgar screams. And seconds later, he hops up, sprinting forward and pinning Emi to the wall with the crowbar lengthwise across her neck.]

Em: [Behind coughing.] Ow, fucker…

E: Gotcha. [A pause.] I wasn’t planning on even getting close to winning, Emi. But this was a pleasant surprise.

Em: Wrong, look down stupidass.

[Edgar glances downwards, now noticing a knife pressed up against his stomach. He looks back up at Emi.]

E: Oh, you sneaky son of a bitch.

Em: Try anything and I'll gut you like a fucking fish.

E: Mhm, same here, I’ll crush your throat just as fast as you can slice my stomach open.

[He makes eye contact, smiling slightly.]

E: So I guess we’re at a sort of stalemate

[Silence.]

Em: Marcy.

E: Excuse me?

Em: The girl Rose was trying to remember. Her name is Marcy. I met her once. Lied about not knowing.

E: Nice. I’ll be sure to let her know. If we ever decide who won the fight, that is. How long can you hold that knife there?

Em: I could say the same about the crowbar.

E: I’m running off of pure adrenaline, and I don’t think that’s going to go away until this is done. So... a while.

Em: You’re welcome for the girls name by the way, consider it my gift for giving me a good fight.

E: Yeah, you’re not getting anything remotely close to a ‘thank you’ from me, Emi. 

[Emi spins the knife around in her hand.]

Em: Y'know, I'm not giving up until you give up.

E: Awesome. I’m not giving up until you give up. 

Em: You give up first!

E: No, you give up first! … This is like a high school couple talking on the phone, except with killing each other. And definitely not a couple. I would rather drink a cup of fire ants than even think about dating you.

Em: Yeah- Anyway. No you give up first

E: Whoever complains about their arms getting tired first loses.

Em: Deal!

[The two stand there for over 34 minutes, neither one moving. They begin speaking at some points, it never lasts long. Finally, Emi shouts loudly in annoyance, and a loud mechanical scream is heard.]

Em: Fuck-

E: Oh, shit.

Em: Um… Agree to a dra-

[Emi is cut off by the sound of something heavy running, two bright green lights pop into frame as something runs into the doorframe.]

Em: SHIT-

E: A draw seems nice. Let’s hope you’re a fast runner, though. I’d rather do the honors of killing you myself, instead of letting you get mauled by… y’know.

Em: Is she looking at me?

[The lights become focused on Emi, a loud static is heard from the creature.]

E: Yes.

Em: …Hi Ruby… Long time no see huh?

[The creature stops, static is all that's heard.]

Em: Um… That’s not good is it?

E: I don’t speak static. But I can feel the hatred from here. I’d suggest you get going before she figures out how to bend down.

Em: IT'S IN THE FUCKING DOORWAY DUDE!

E: I don’t know why you’re yelling at me about it. I didn’t put her there.

[The static switches to distorted speaker audio, the song is identified as “Ruler of everything” despite being extremely distorted and only one word on loop.]

?: End- End- End- End- End- 

[This continues throughout the rest of the transcript.]

E: Hm. I think that means she wants to give you a hug, Emi. 

Em: I'M NOT HUGGING THAT BITCH!

[Edgar fakes a dramatic gasp, mocking Emi with his tone. His words sound forced.] 

E: Oh my, Emi. That’s no way to treat your sister! Go apologize! 

[Edgar releases the pressure on the crowbar, allowing Emi to step forward away from the wall, he shoves her towards the door. She turns around to stare at him.]

Em: RUBY IS DEAD! EVEN YOU'VE ADMITTED THAT!

[The creature begins scratching at the door frame, attempting to move towards Emi's bleeding arm.]

E: Emi. You can either be out there with Ruby, or be in here with me. And in both situations, your chances of survival are about the same. Go. 

Em: I CAN'T! IT IS IN THE WAY! WE ARE BOTH STUCK IN HERE DUMBFUCK!

[The creature backs up.]

E: Well, would you look at that. An opening. Now, again. Do you want to risk staying in here with me? Or do you want to see how fast you can run out there with Ruby? Take your pick.

[Emi begins running, dropping her mask and a photo on the ground as she does. As soon as she gets out of the doorway, the creature begins to give chase.]

E: [Shakily.] Finally. Jesus… the hell did she drop?

[Edgar moves over to the dropped mask and photograph, picking them up. Squinting at them.]

E: Oh. That’s… I should give this to Rose when I–

[One of his legs buckles inwards, causing him to stumble and drop to his hands and knees. His breathing becomes ragged as the adrenaline boost begins to subside, he attempts to stand up, failing once, but succeeding the second time.]

E: [Quietly.] Just g– gotta make it back to M– Mari’s hideout. Just a little bit more walking. Come on. 

[Using the crowbar as a sort of support, he makes his way over to the desk that has his phone and the white packet. But before he picks up the phone, he moves out of frame. A violent retching noise is heard as he vomits off camera. When he re-enters the frame, he is using the table as a support as well as the crowbar. He picks up his phone, causing it to go out of focus with the intensity of the shaking in his hands. It gets stuffed into his front pocket, and the white packet presumably goes into a pocket in his pants.]

E: M– maybe I can make t– that for Sparrow. Wh– when I get back. P– peace offering, of s– sorts? Need to make sure it’s not– ugh, poisoned, though.

[Edgar slowly moves towards the door, nearly tripping over himself twice. Once he exits the room, he leans on the wall for support. And he slowly begins making his way back to the hideout.]

[Transcript end.]

[trashcankitty12]

11, 13, 14, 15, 16, 20, 21 for the unwritten fic asks (for any fic)

11. Is there any scene you can't wait for people to react to when reading? Why?

-So... I have a few, but this one is going to be about one from my Winx Club Final Season Fic (with my OC).

Without revealing too much, Valkyrie and Flora are going to have a confrontation with each other. One that's going to have ramifications throughout the fic and sort of put things in motion. Valkyrie is going to be on a path of 'I'm spiraling but instead of dealing with feelings I'm going to be working and shutting off feelings and just doing my job' and Flora is going to be deep in denial and lots of emotional pain.

Why am I excited for this? Because of the set up and the fact I've kept Flora and Valkyrie as relatively drama-free as I could... So this is going to be painful. In a good way. Probably.

13. Is there any unwritten/unpublished fics you haven't mentioned you're going to do?

-Yes. Several. There's my Hill House/Winx au (though I've briefly mentioned that one to you once or twice) and continuing the Left in the Aftermath au... And then I have a Miraculous Ladybug fic outlined... For like... Five seasons plus tie-ins because I'm impossible.

14. Is there any unwritten/unpublished fics you planned on doing, but now you're feeling like you're going to scrap those ideas?

-I wouldn't say scrap them... But I will putting them on the big back burner of 'maybe one day'. Like continuing with Tempest (harpy!Griffin) or the arranged marriage one or working on my Happily Ever After au (the prequel with Valtor and Griffin...)

15. Do you have any unwritten scenes that you think about a lot?

-So... Many.

A big one is a confrontation scene. And then there's a fight scene that may not be really a fight scene.

And, of course, there's two sort of scenes that happen in the same time-frame but at different places in which Bloom and Valkyrie discover interesting bits of their powers.

16. Is there any written scene that you think about a lot?

-Yes!

Oh I just wrote it not too long ago! (Nabu and Layla's wedding ceremony. The fucking world building and attempts to make it sort of realistic was... I'm proud of myself, okay? I think I did a good job with it and I'm proud of it. But I'll be understanding if it's not for everyone.) -For the tie-ins that happen before my Final Winx Season.-

20. Give a vague description of something that will happen without revealing too much.

-For my tie-ins with Final Winx Season-

-Roxy, Selina, and Miele are going on a hiking adventure together through Black Mud Swamp. What could go wrong?

21. Is there any unwritten fic that you don't know if you ever will write?

-Most of them really... Aside from finishing up this series with Valkyrie and my Hill House AU and the Miraculous Ladybug fic... I'm not sure about any others currently. Especially since I've been focusing, or attempting to focus, on my Original Works and some... Stuff that's going on in real life.

But I'm hoping one day to write them all.

Hell, I might even write about the next gen if I'm so a-minded to. (As my grandma says.) Or I'll write blurbs of what I would set up for them. I don't know though. It's up in the air.