#the world we want often emerges in the darkness

[inkmonster21]

I Don’t Play Anymore

Hwang In-Ho / Frontman x Fem!Reader

As the daughter of the American Frontman, your life takes an unexpected turn as you accompany him to South Korea, to witness the 33rd Annual Squid Games. Being a spectator to the violent events unfolds, and you find yourself unexpectedly connecting with the Frontman.

01. Red Light, Green Light

The American Frontman had traveled to Korea with a purpose: to observe and learn from the infamous underground games. He wanted to gather as much knowledge as possible, so he could translate those elements into the games hosted in the United States.

He was a sharp, cunning individual, drawn to the spectacle of carefully crafted games that challenged people's wits, morals, and will to survive.

The American game maker, accompanied by a small security team and his daughter, boarded the boat that would take them to the remote island where the games took place.

You were well-acquainted with the concept of these games, having experienced firsthand the high-stakes thrill of your father's smaller-scale games. These events, limited to no more than 50 players, unfolded at a rapid pace, often concluding in just one day.

The games held a dark legacy within your family, a tradition passed down through generations. You had participated in the games four years ago, and emerged victorious, a title that filled you with both accomplishment and guilt. Your father, the current game master, was proud, carrying on a legacy started by your great-grandfather. The competition held its price - the cost of taking lives - but the thrill and satisfaction of victory outweighed any lingering doubts and remorse.

You were accompanying your father on a journey to the annual games held in Korea. This trip was more than just a spectator's view; it was an opportunity for both of you to learn and gain insights from the complex and ruthless games that unfolded on foreign soil.

The boat swayed and rocked as it navigated through the waves, and you gripped the railing tightly, a mix of annoyance and slight unease present on your face. You had never been fond of boats, finding the continuous motion and the vast expanse of water beneath you unsettling.

Frustration tinged your voice as you raised your phone, attempting to catch a single bar of service. The signal was weak, barely catching the faintest hint of a connection.

"I can't even get a single bar out here!" you exclaimed, the lack of reception leaving you disconnected from the world.

Your father, observant as always, shifted his gaze towards you. His expression was serious, and he spoke calmly.

"Do you really need it anyway?"

He raised an eyebrow, subtly questioning the need for constant connection and the distraction that technology often provided.

You nodded in response, your response coming out in a confident tone.

"Um, yes. Anderson said he was going to send the address of his friends' club. There's supposed to be a big party, and I can not miss that."

Your father's face remained impassive, but a small flicker of amusement flashed in his eyes at your eagerness for the party.

Your father chuckled, “maybe you can make some new friends, tell them about the good opportunities we could offer,” a hint of amusement in his tone. However, your reply, about friendships being cut short by the nature of your upbringing, carried a touch of bitterness.

"Yeah, and then have them killed. I swear I haven't had a friendship longer than 2 years because of you assholes." Your voice held a mix of frustration and resignation.

Your father's response was curt, and he reprimanded you harshly. "That 'asshole' paid for the Louboutins you're standing in," he scoffed. "I'd fix that attitude before we arrive. You don't want to make me look bad here, (y/n)."

His words held a mix of authority and warning, subtly reminding you to maintain decorum and uphold the family reputation.

As the boat neared the island, your father's head of security handed him a black crystal mask, shaped with the features of the mythical jackalope, adorned with its own set of black shimmering jeweled horns. The mask was a masterpiece, exuding a sense of power and exclusivity.

Your father's head of security handed you a smaller, more delicate mask, its design resembling an innocent rabbit compared to the intimidating jackalope. You looked at the mask with a hint of disdain, a scoff escaping your lips.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" you asked, your tone tinged with a mix of stubbornness and skepticism. Your father's tone was terse, his words simple yet commanding. "Wear it," he instructed firmly, his gaze unwavering. Without hesitation, he placed the black jeweled mask onto his own face, the mask accentuating his features in an eerie way.

With a reluctant sigh, you followed suit, slipping on the elegant black jeweled rabbit mask. The coolness of the metal against your skin sent a faint shiver down your spine. The intricate design of the mask felt both elegant and concealing, a subtle reminder of the event you were about to become a part of.

The black masks placed on the security men's faces only heightened your sense of unease, solidifying the gravity of the situation. The cold realization hit you like a wave, and you couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of regret. A whisper of doubt echoed in your mind, questioning whether staying home would have been a wiser choice. The island loomed ahead, a silent harbinger of the events yet to unfold.

As the boat neared the island, your father's tone held a tinge of seriousness, his words a stern command.

"I want you to pay attention to these games," he stated firmly, his gaze firm. "Observe the players, observe their responses, and see what makes the mind break." The stern words of your father echoed in your mind, his authority unwavering. "Yes, father," you responded, a mix of obedience and reluctance in your voice.

The boat docked, the path ahead uneven and treacherous, especially given the choice of footwear you wore. The path was clearly unwalked and unsteady, making it difficult for you to navigate properly. As you cautiously made your way along the path, you stumbled upon a seemingly invisible hatch door, hidden from prying eyes. The head of security stepped forward, punching in a code and signaling to a hidden camera. The hatch door slowly creaked open, revealing a descending staircase.

As the hatch door opened, you were met with the sight of a man dressed in a striking pink jumpsuit, his mask featuring a distinctive square shape. Behind him were an entourage of four pink-masked guards, each adorning black masks lined with triangles. The contrast of the bright colours and masks against the dim lighting of the stairwell created an atmosphere of surrealism and foreboding.

The head of security's words cut through the silence, his tone low and guarded.

"These are the American game makers," he spoke, his voice holding a mix of neutrality and wariness. "They've been anticipating their arrival."

The man in the pink jumpsuit responded in a simple, yet eerie tone that sent a chill down your spine.

"Yes," he said simply, "please, follow me." Without a moment's hesitation, he turned and began walking down the dimly lit stairwell, his guards falling into a precise formation behind him.

As you followed the pink-suited man up the staircase, you couldn't help but observe the surroundings, taking in the bright colors and cheerful décor. The room was intentionally designed to appear playful and pleasant, a stark contrast to the darkness and mystery that shrouded the truth.

You were led towards a pair of imposing double doors, their golden handles gleaming beneath the lights. The pink-suited man stepped inside, his voice carrying a respect and formality. "Sir, the American game maker has arrived," he announced, his words carrying a weight of significance. The doors opened wider, revealing a grand room.

As you entered the grand room, your gaze fell upon the imposing figure across from you - a man clad in a sharp black suit, his distinctive black mask adorned with a hood. His presence immediately commanded attention and respect, and you couldn't help but make the connection - this must be the Frontman, the counterpart to your father's role.

Your father stepped forward and introduced himself to the Frontman, ignoring your presence. You were not the focus here; you were merely a spectator, a silent observer, your importance seemingly diminished. The sense of insignificance gnawed at you, but you remained composed, maintaining a stoic expression as you watched the encounter unfold.

The Frontman spoke, his voice authoritative and confident. "It is a pleasure to have you witness our 33rd Annual Squid Games," he echoed with a practiced smile, his gaze fixed on your father.

The words echoed in the grand room, a stark reminder of the gravity and spectacle of the events about to unfold - the annual game where lives were on the line, and the consequences were severe.

Your phone buzzed, interrupting the tense atmosphere. With a pleased smile, you reached into your purse and retrieved the device. As you sat down on one of the couches lining the wall, you muttered, "Finally," under your breath. Despite the gravity of the occasion, you couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the distraction, grateful for a moment of respite from the tension.

You scrolled through the texts from your friends, their pleas for glamourous pictures from your vacation with your father only fueled your growing urge to break away and explore. As you glanced up, observing the room and the ongoing conversation, you weighed the option of sneaking out to indulge in something exciting of your own.

Just as you stood, preparing to casually leave the room, your father called out to you, his command firm and unwavering.

"Sit," he ordered, his voice stern. You froze in your tracks, the words reverberating in your mind. Your desire to step away and explore was abruptly brought to a halt by his authoritarian command.

“I’m just going to go-,” The click of the gun echoed in the room, causing you to halt your words. Your father's stern glare and the sight of him pointing the pistol at you filled you with a mix of fear and resignation. You reluctantly walked to the designated chair diagonally across from him and sat down, your eyes locked on the gun. It was a tactic he had used before, but it never failed to send a wave of fear through you, reminding you of the consequences of disobedience.

Despite being his daughter, you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that your father wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. The tension in the room was palpable, and the cold, unwavering gaze of the gun sent chills down your spine.

You muttered your apology, the words leaving your lips with a mixture of guilt and resignation. Your father's glare softened slightly as he lowered the pistol, a hint of acknowledgment in his eyes. He said nothing, merely giving a subtle nod, acknowledging your apology but still keeping a watchful eye on you.

Your father turned his attention back to the Frontman, continuing the conversation with a casual tone.

"Kids," he remarked nonchalantly, referring to you with a subtle nod in your direction. "They can be quite a handful." You remained still in your seat, trying to blend into the background, silently absorbing the words exchanged between your father and the Frontman.

As the Frontman stared at you, his masked gaze fixed upon you, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of acknowledgment. His gesture, the slight tilt of his head, conveyed a silent curiosity. Without fully understanding why, you responded with a subtle nod of your own, a silent acknowledgment passing between you.

The Frontman's curiosity grew as he observed you, his masked gaze now filled with deeper intrigue. There was a hint of concern beneath the hard exterior, a subtle indication of his genuine interest in your well-being. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but there was an undeniable pull to ensure your safety and comfort.

The Frontman broke the silence, offering a gesture of hospitality. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, his voice calm yet with a touch of formality. The offer seemed almost casual, a small gesture amidst the tense atmosphere, but the underlying purpose remained clear - to maintain control and ensure everyone was comfortable while the games began.

With a grateful nod, you accepted the Frontman's offer of a drink. The nerves were building within you, and the thought of numbing the tension even slightly was enticing.

"Please," you replied, your voice carrying a mix of relief and anticipation, while your father remained stoic in his seat, observing the interaction with a guarded expression.

The guards moved swiftly and efficiently, providing you with a drink with remarkable speed. You couldn't help but appreciate the efficiency and the thoughtfulness of the gesture, offering a small nod to convey your gratitude, your smile tinged with a hint of tension. Your father watched the exchange with a guarded expression, his eyes scrutinizing every move you made, observing your every reaction.

The moment had arrived. The games were about to commence, and the first event was set to be red light, green light. A seemingly simple premise, yet the tension and anticipation hung heavily in the air. The atmosphere seemed charged with anticipation and the potential for both triumph and defeat.

As the screen lit up, the scene unfolded before your eyes. The field of players, clad in green tracksuits, moved forward, their movements slow and measured as they explored their surroundings. Their attention was immediately drawn to the large doll stationed at the far end, a sight that both captivated and unnerved.

The calm and cheerful voice echoed through the field, issuing the directive.

"Please stand behind the white line drawn on the field," it repeated, the words resonating in the air. "Once again, will all players please stand behind the white line and await further instructions."

The players, dressed in green tracksuits, stood in a line behind the white line, seemingly unaware of the danger that loomed ahead. They followed the instructions with obedience, showing no signs of comprehending the true nature of the games they had willingly entered. There was a sense of blind trust, oblivious to the impending chaos and violence that awaited them.

The phone on the small table beside you rang abruptly, catching your attention. The Frontman moved closer, answering the call with a sense of authority. "This is the Frontman speaking," he said, his voice carrying a confident yet somewhat chilling tone. "We can begin now," he confirmed.

The Frontman took his seat beside you, maintaining a respectful yet noticeable distance between you. However, you couldn't help but feel a subtle sense of unease as you felt his gaze on the small parts of your face that were left uncovered by the mask. There was an intensity to his gaze that felt almost disquieting, a mix of curiosity and observation, his eyes seemingly taking in every detail of your features.

The Voice's tone carried a blend of cheerfulness and authority, as it instructed the players on the imminent event.

"You will be playing Red Light, Green Light," the voice announced, a tone of gleeful anticipation evident in its words. The players, dressed in green, stood still, their expressions a mix of anticipation and tension, their eyes focused on the voice coming through the speakers.

The rules of the game were explained with a strange blend of innocence and coldness.

"You are allowed to move forward when 'it' shouts 'Green Light,' stop when 'it' shouts 'Red Light.' If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated," the voice stated, its tone maintaining a mix of childlike playfulness and the harsh reality of the consequences they faced.

The voice continued, outlining the rules of the game with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Those players who cross the finish line without being eliminated within the five-minute playtime will pass this round," it explained. There was a pause, a dramatic moment of anticipation, before the voice concluded, "With that, let the game begin." As the words echoed in the air, the players braced themselves, the tension palpable.

The doll, with its childlike voice, issued the first command.

"Green light," it declared, its voice a mix of innocence and underlying menace. With those words, the game officially commenced. As the game began, a few players eagerly surged forward, attempting to make progress toward the finish line.

In an instant, the tension heightened as the voice announced, "Red light." The players, who had been moving forward, came to an abrupt stop, frozen in their tracks, their bodies gitty with anticipation.

You couldn't help but tense up at the sudden sound of a gunshot, the gunshot breaking the tense silence, causing your body to flinch involuntarily.

The voice, cold and unforgiving, announced the first casualty of the game. "Player 324. Eliminated."

The players, engrossed in the game, had yet to fully comprehend the true nature and danger of the situation. Despite the gunshot, most of them were still caught up in the excitement of the competition, their attention focused on the doll and the race to the finish line. The reality of the violence and life-or-death stakes hadn't fully sunk in for many participants.

As one player finally looked down at his dying friend, the reality and gravity of the situation became undeniable. Fear shot through their eyes, and realization dawned on their face. The cheerful facade shattered as they faced the brutal truth of the game's nature, a truth that left them shaken to the core. It was a moment of sobering clarity, the illusion of a simple game evaporating before their very eyes.

The chaos unfolded as panicked players rushed to the entrance doors, desperately trying to flee. However, their efforts were futile as one by one, they were shot by the hidden snipers in the walls.

The voice echoed through the loudspeakers once again, repeating the rules of the game with a chilling precision.

The remaining players, shaken and terrified, listened intently as the rules were reiterated, their hearts pounding in their chests.

"You are allowed to move forward when 'it' shouts 'Green Light' and stop when 'it' shouts 'Red Light.' If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated," the voice stated, its tone cold and methodical.

Your father, visibly engrossed in the spectacle, couldn't contain his excitement. "Amazing first choice," he chuckled, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and enthusiasm. "We simply can't do it yet. We need more players on sight. But this is amazing!" His words showcased the twisted nature of the games and the satisfaction the game makers derived from the chaos and bloodshed.

Your father turned his gaze to you, seeking your opinion on the unfolding events. "What do you think, (y/n)?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone, as though he was eager to gauge your reaction to the unfolding spectacle.

Your words came out in a matter-of-fact tone, the practical aspect of the situation evident in your response.

"It's the best choice for the first game," you stated, a sense of realism lacing your words. "It gets rid of the mass amount of players and shows them the outcome if they don't listen. It's practical." Your father seemed pleased with your assessment, a subtle nod indicating his agreement and approval of your observation.

The Frontman, listening to your words, couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for your practicality and realistic approach. He appreciated the way you had analyzed the situation and made a rational observation. In a world where brutal violence was the norm, your sensible view stood out, and he respected it quietly.

The game continued, the voice's cold instructions echoing through the field as players met their fate. Each round of "Red Light" brought a new wave of eliminations, the remaining players trembling in fear and uncertainty. The game was a deadly, ruthless spectacle, leaving the players in a state of constant tension and anxiety.

Your attention was drawn to the small figurine band that came to life, playing a gentle tune. As "Fly Me to the Moon" filled the room, you turned to the Frontman, a surprised smile gracing your face.

The Frontman's gesture took you by surprise, his action a mix of playfulness and unexpected charm amidst the cold, violent world of the games.

Despite the tense atmosphere, the Frontman's decision to play "Fly Me to the Moon" softened the mood slightly. As the song played, you crossed your legs, your voice carrying a slight tone of contentment.

"I like this song," you remarked, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

The Frontman's eyes flickered, his gaze briefly meeting yours, as he acknowledged your comment. There was a subtle sense of understanding in his gaze, a glimpse of a shared appreciation for the song that created a brief moment of connection between you two.

The moment of connection and shared appreciation between you and the Frontman provided a sliver of hope that this trip could indeed become more enjoyable than you had initially anticipated. The games were still unfolding, and the tension in the room lingered, but there was a hint of warmth in the air.

[creature-wizard]

How the "divine feminine" and the "divine masculine" perpetuate patriarchy - and what we can do about it

One thing the occult is very good at is coming up with systems to categorize and conceptualize things. These can be incredibly useful to us in various ways. But we also have to remember that these systems we come up with are mere constructs, and the actual world itself probably doesn't conform to them as we might like. As the saying goes, all maps are wrong. But as the saying also goes, some maps are useful, and some are more useful than others.

One thing that often comes up in esoteric and occult systems are various forms of binaries or polarities. This often makes sense; for example, without light, you have dark. Without heat, you have cold. One party gives, the other takes. Creatures are born, and eventually they die.

But we can run into problems when we start trying to lump all apparent forms of polarities and dualities together. Here's an example: Life/Death, Masculine/Feminine. In doing this, we create an association that might lead us toward some terrible ways of thinking about real people. If we associate masculinity with death, we can find ourselves thinking that waging war and inventing weapons of death is just what men and masc people do, but women can always be counted on to be diplomats and peacekeepers. Or if we associate femininity with death, we might find ourselves more inclined to think that women and femmes have a natural desire to commit infanticide and tear apart societies, and they must be carefully watched and their freedoms limited so they don't upend civilization and endanger the human race.

These are of course extreme examples, but they are real ways that some people think. And you might think to yourself, "well, I don't polarize genders this way, I think people should try to be a healthy balance of masculine and feminine." And if this is you, I want you to ask yourself why you're so attached to categorizing traits as "masculine" and "feminine" at all.

If you're like most people, you probably just came across this in some form of occult or spiritual literature and just adopted it without really asking yourself too many questions about it. When we see something framed as ancient or higher wisdom, it's pretty easy to take it fairly uncritically, especially if it aligns with our unconscious biases in some way. It often doesn't cross our minds to ask where these terms really come from, and what they signified in their original contexts.

You may have heard that male/female stuff has roots in alchemy, which is true. But the thing with alchemy is that it was using familiar terms and concepts to describe chemical processes and reactions. Think of it a little bit like how we use terms like "male plugs" and "female plugs." While old-time alchemy did have a spiritual component to it, it was more about believing that you had to be spiritually pure to make your desired alchemical reactions happen. When alchemy gave way to chemistry, and people began to realize that your spiritual condition had nothing to do with your ability to make things happen in the lab, certain people began to seek more mystical meanings in the works of alchemists, and this idea of masculinity and femininity as transcendent mystical forces unto themselves really started to emerge. It was an incredibly easy concept to project on all kinds of mythologies, because a lot of myths have male and female figures interacting in various ways.

Now the thing is, having myths with male and female figures doesn't mean seeing masculinity and femininity as discrete forces or powers unto themselves. It can mean that they simply personified various figures as male or female depending on what their own experiences and cultural biases suggested to them. For example, straight men tend to think of love and lust as something they experience when they see a beautiful woman. In a patriarchal society, where men are calling most of the shots in conceptualizing the divine, a love deity is thus likely to be personified as a beautiful woman. Straight men can also see beautiful women as a source of discord and strife, so it makes sense that love goddesses would have war aspects to them.

A society where men are sent to war while wives are left behind to raise the children and tend the farm is going to produce an association with men and violence, while the act of nurturing will be associated with women. Men who deny higher education to women are going to produce a society where intellectual pursuits and higher abstract reasoning are associated with masculinity, and intuition and practical knowledge are associated with women. A society where men are seen as bringers of social order and upholders of civilization while women are viewed more like forces of nature than rational actors will associate men with civilization and women with natural, wild spaces.

In continuing to associate these characteristics with the "divine feminine" and the "divine masculine," we preserve and perpetuate the implicit biases created by these patriarchal societies. And while there is absolutely value in saying, "hey, these 'feminine' things are actually valuable and worth respect actually," framing them as intrinsically feminine in any sense - physically, psychologically, or metaphysically - will undermine any effort to dismantle patriarchy and bring true equality.

So what can you do? I would suggest being more specific.

Do you mean passive/active? Then just say it.

Do you mean giver/receiver? Then just say it.

Do you mean harmonizing/disrupting? Then just say it.

Whatever you have filed under boxes labeled "masculine" and "feminine," you can simply take them out of those boxes and find better categories for them.

[strnilolover]

NNN - Matt sturniolo - rainy day

You and Matt hadn’t planned on staying inside today. You had plans to go out for a walk and then go hang out at a little outdoor café, but when you had woken up this morning, there was nothing but pouring rain outside.

You had started to pout, pulling yourself out of bed and into the kitchen to make breakfast for you both. Matt was still sleeping — not wanting to wake him up after discovering your initial plans were ruined.

When he did emerge from the bedroom, breakfast was already done and sitting at the table, you yourself were sitting down picking at your food slowly. Matt noticed, walking over to sit beside you where he own plate was set.

His hand reached out, grabbing your jaw softly as he turned your head to face him. “What’s wrong sweetheart? you look upset.” he asked, pressing a light peck to your cheek. Your frown pulled more, bottom lip sticking out. “Our plans for the day are ruined — it’s raining so heavily outside.” you whined.

He raised a brow at you, craning his head to look out the kitchen window, water droplets decorating the glass. He hummed at the realization, turning his gaze back to you. “Just because it’s it’s raining, doesn’t mean plans have to be ruined baby. They’ll just be…different.” he said softly, letting your face go to pick up his fork.

You stared blankly at him, “What do you mean different? what can we possibly do that’s fun?” you asked, your own fork now stabbing into the food and bringing it to your lips.

He grinned as he took a bite of his food, chewing. “You’ll see.” was all he said before he continued to eat.

After both of your plates were cleared and set into the sink, matt took your hand and guided you into the living room. He stopped in front of the couch, your body bumping into his softly. Turning to you he smiled, “I don’t know about you, but I think pillow forts are a great thing to make when it’s raining.” he whispered, pulling you closer to him.

You looked up at him, “A pillow fort?” you questioned, a little surprised but delighted. He nodded with a grin, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “And after we build it, we can watch all your favorite movies — I don’t mind a marathon.” He leaned in, pecking your lips gently, making you giggle.

You rolled your eyes, “Alright, but just so you know, I take my pillow forts very seriously,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you grabbed his hand, leading him to the couch. He chuckled, already grabbing a few pillows and handing them to you. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Together, you collected every pillow and blanket in sight, stacking them into a cozy fortress in the middle of the living room. Once the fort was assembled, you both crawled inside, sinking into the pile of blankets with a sense of accomplishment.

He settled in beside you, pulling you close as you rested your head on his shoulder. “So,” he murmured, his fingers gently brushing over your arm, “which movie are we starting with?” he asked softly.

You bit your lip thoughtfully, looking up at him. “How about we watch the saw movies? I know it’s not spooky month anymore, but I love them.” you suggested, your voice barely a whisper.

His sighed, wrapping an arm around you a little tighter, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. “Fine, Fine. But, just because I love you.” he whispered back. With the remote in hand, he started the first movie, and the room dimmed, casting a soft yet dark glow around your little fort.

As the movie played, he absentmindedly traced patterns along your arm, his gaze drifting down to you every so often, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. You felt a sense of comfort and warmth, the outside world disappearing as you were wrapped up in his presence.

Halfway through, you glanced up at him and caught him watching you instead of the screen. “Caught you,” you whispered, laughing quietly. He shrugged, a small smirk on his lips. “Can you blame me? You’re way more interesting than any movie,” he murmured, leaning down to steal another kiss.

© strnilolover

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[misswynters]

Royal Welcome - Chapter Two

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: You locked yourself in your room for the entire day after the events that occurred during the morning. You couldn’t believe aegon would humiliate you like that. Aerion however finds a solution to your sadness.

[warning: kissing, sensual touching, almost smut, puppy-eyed aegon

[word count: 3.0k

[a/n: we don’t often see the calm aegon in hotd so i decided that he will be that.

[note | it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

As the day progressed you were sulking in your chambers, not moving a muscle. What aegon did was so humiliating to you that you didn’t even want to step foot outside. Soon the evening shadows cast long tendrils of darkness across the room as you lay on your bed, your face buried in the silken pillow that was damp with the tears you had shed. The humiliation of the council meeting replayed in your mind like a cruel jest, Aegon's mocking laughter echoing in your ears. Your heart pounded with a mix of anger and shame, your cheeks stained red from both the wine and the sting of his words.

A soft knock at the door barely registered through your sorrow. You remained silent, unwilling to face anyone, least of all Aerion. The door creaked open regardless, and you heard the quiet, purposeful footsteps approach. A gentle hand rested on your shoulder, and you looked up to see Aerion's concerned face.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. “You haven’t left your room at all since what happened at the small council meeting”

You shook your head, unable to find the words. Aerion sat down on the edge of your bed, his hand never leaving your shoulder. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort amidst the turmoil of your emotions.

"Aegon was out of line," Aerion said, his voice steady. "He had no right to treat you that way."

You looked up at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying. "It doesn't matter," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm just a pawn to them, a tool to be used for heirs and be discarded."

Aerion's expression hardened. "You are not a pawn," he said firmly. "…and luckily you have me."

His words touched a chord deep within you, and before you could respond, Aerion leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a sudden, passionate kiss. The world seemed to melt away as he cupped your cheeks, his fingers gentle against your skin. You followed suit, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as your heart raced.

The kiss deepened, a fervent exchange of unspoken emotions, each moment stretching into eternity. Your mind was a whirlwind, but in that instant, nothing else mattered. You were no longer burdened with duty and expectation; you were simply you, and he was with you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Aerion's eyes searched yours, a mixture of longing and concern reflected in his gaze.

"Wanna come somewhere with me?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a newfound strength. "Yes," you replied, your voice steady. "I'm sure."

Aerion smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made your heart flutter. He stood up, offering his hand. "Come with me," he said. "Let's get out of here, even if just for a little while. Clear our heads."

You hesitated for a moment, but then took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Together, you slipped out of your chambers, the castle corridors quiet and dimly lit. Aerion led you through a series of passages until you emerged into a secluded garden, the night sky above and all inhibitions were cast aside. Aerion's hands became more insistent, gripping your waist and pulling you even closer. The cool night air contrasted sharply with the heat building between you, making every touch, feel electric.

The cool night air was refreshing, and you took a deep breath, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. Aerion stood beside you, his presence a comforting anchor in the sea of your emotions.

"Sometimes," he said quietly, "we need to step away to see things more clearly. Out here, it's just us. No titles, no expectations. Just me and you."

You looked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you said softly. "For everything."

Aerion nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Always," he replied.

After a few minutes in silence, you stood there watching the night sky, "Aerion," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of need and anticipation.

He responded with a low growl, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left you both breathless. His hands slid up your sides, tracing the contours of your body with an urgency that mirrored your own. You arched into his touch, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened.

You broke apart, gasping for air, your foreheads resting together. The garden seemed to pulse with the same intensity that thrummed through your veins. His eyes were dark with desire, his breathing heavy as he looked at you.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to find the words but certain in your heart. "Yes," you whispered, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within you. "I want this, my prince. I want you."

He needed no further encouragement. With a swift motion, he lifted you, guiding you to a secluded bench surrounded by the fragrant blooms. You settled into his lap, your legs straddling his as he pulled you close, his hands gripping your hips. The new position only heightened the intensity of your connection, your bodies pressed together in a desperate, fevered embrace.

Aerion's lips found yours again, the kiss raw and hungry. You matched his fervor, your hands roaming over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers. Every touch, every kiss seemed to ignite a fire that threatened to consume you both.

His hands slid under your dress, the roughness of his fingers contrasting with the softness of your skin. You gasped as he found the sensitive spots along your thighs, his touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you. You clung to him, your own desire mounting with each passing moment.

"Aerion," you moaned, your voice a breathless plea.

He responded with a low, guttural sound, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His hands continued their exploration, and you could feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against you, adding to the delicious tension building between you.

The night around you seemed to disappear, the world narrowing to just the two of you, lost in each other. The garden, once a place of peace and tranquility, now echoed with the sounds of your shared passion. You moved against each other, each touch, each kiss pushing you closer to the edge.

"Aerion, I..." you began, but the words were lost as his mouth claimed yours again, silencing any further thoughts.

The kiss was possessive, demanding, and you surrendered to it completely, your body responding to his in perfect harmony.

Your hands moved to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons in your haste to feel more of him. He helped you, shrugging out of the garment and tossing it aside.

Your hands roamed over his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the strength of his muscles. You marveled at the sensation, the way his body seemed to fit perfectly with yours.

Aerion's hands were no less busy, his touch exploring every inch of you, leaving a trail of desire in its wake. The night air was cool against your heated skin, but it only heightened the intensity of your connection. You could feel the dampness between your thighs, a testament to your growing need for him.

"Aerion," you begged, your voice barely more than a whisper. “We should stop…”

He groaned, his lips brushing against your ear. "I need you," he murmured, ignoring you as his breath laid hot against your skin. "I need you so much." You started to feel guilty as he continued to kiss you passionately.

He paused for a moment thinking about what you said, his breathing ragged, eyes dark with lingering desire. “You’re right,” he hesitantly agreed, his voice hoarse. He reluctantly let go of your waist, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment longer before he pulled back.

You both stood, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the heat still radiating from your bodies. Aerion’s eyes never left you as you adjusted your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles and making sure everything was in place. His hands moved to help, his touch gentle and careful as he straightened your clothes, his fingers brushing against your skin with every movement.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice a mixture of regret and lingering desire.

He shook his head, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Don’t be,” he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. “I understand.”

As he continued to help you, his hands moved with a deliberate slowness, and he couldn’t resist placing soft kisses on your lips. Each peck was tender and affectionate, a stark contrast to the fevered kisses from moments before. You leaned into him, savoring the sweetness of his touch, even as the urgency of your previous encounter faded.

“There,” Aerion said softly, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “All set.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with emotion. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with a depth of feeling that went beyond words.

He smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Always,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours with a promise of more moments like this, of a connection that went beyond the physical.

The garden was quiet once more, the night enveloping you both in a serene embrace. You took a deep breath, the cool air calming your racing heart. He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, and together you walked back toward the castle.

Aerion gently led you back to your chambers, the soft glow of the torches casting warm light across the stone corridors. His hand remained firmly clasped in yours, a silent promise of protection and affection. When you reached your door, he paused, his gaze lingering on your face.

"Goodnight," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. He leaned in, brushing a kiss against your forehead, a soft, lingering touch that left your heart fluttering.

"Goodnight, Aerion," you replied, your voice barely a whisper as you watched him turn and walk away, the connection between you still palpable.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫ 

A few moments later, your handmaidens entered the room, carrying your nightgown and the items needed for your nightly bath. They moved with practiced efficiency, helping you undress and preparing the bath. As you slipped into the warm water, a sense of calm washed over you, the events of the night replaying in your mind.

The handmaidens' gentle hands washed your body, the soothing motions helping to ease the tension from your muscles. Your thoughts drifted to Aerion, his touch, his kisses, the way he looked at you with such intensity. A smile tugged at your lips, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the bath.

Just as you were beginning to relax, the door to your chambers burst open with a loud crash. You startled, the peaceful moment shattered. Aegon stumbled into the room, his eyes glassy and unfocused from his usual nights out. He reeked of alcohol, his steps unsteady as he glared at the handmaidens.

“Get out!” he bellowed, his voice slurred but still commanding. The handmaidens exchanged frightened glances but quickly obeyed, scurrying out of the room and leaving you alone with him.

Aegon’s eyes flicked over you, and he took a deep breath, the fury from earlier momentarily subsiding. “Get dressed,” he muttered, his tone softer but still laden with the effects of alcohol.

Fearful of his unpredictable state, you quickly stood from the bath and wrapped a towel around yourself, hurrying to slip into your nightgown. Aegon sat on the edge of your bed, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

Once you were dressed, he patted the spot next to him on the bed. “Sit,” he commanded, his voice a mix of authority and vulnerability.

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes made you comply. You sat beside him, the tension between you palpable. Aegon’s expression softened, the anger replaced by a sadness that caught you off guard. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lay his head on your lap, his vulnerability exposed.

“I saw you and my brother in the garden,” he confessed, his voice trembling slightly. “I saw everything.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear and guilt mingling as you searched for words. “Aegon, I—”

He cut you off, his voice muffled as he buried his face in your lap. “Why?” he asked, his voice filled with a sorrow that made your heart ache. “Why him? Why not me?”

Hesitantly, you raised your hand and began to caress his head, your fingers threading through his hair in a soothing manner. Aegon, usually so arrogant and self-assured, now seemed vulnerable, exposed. You looked down at him, seeing the pain and confusion etched on his face.

“Aegon, it’s not about choosing one over the other,” you began, your voice gentle. “Aerion and I… it was unexpected, we just connected in that way.”

He let out a shaky breath, his body trembling slightly against yours. “But I can love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can learn how.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken feelings and regrets. You felt a pang of sorrow for Aegon, but your heart still belonged to Aerion. You had to tread carefully, not wanting to hurt him further.

“Aegon,” you said softly, continuing to stroke his hair, “I care about you, too. But i can’t live like this, i hate being constantly ignored”

He let out a shuddering sigh, his grip on your dress tightening. “I’m sorry” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You gently squeezed his shoulder, your touch tender. “I’m sorry, Aegon,” you said, your voice filled with genuine regret. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

He looked up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know.”

For a moment, you both sat there in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Aegon finally lifted his head from your lap and stood, his movements sluggish and weary.

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice hollow. He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You sat there for a moment, the events of the night swirling in your mind. Aegon’s confession, his vulnerability—it all left you feeling conflicted and sorrowful. Your heart now remained stuck in between the two, drawn to Aerion with a pull you couldn’t resist. But also struck by aegon’s sudden burst of emotion. Even though he was drunk, you could feel his true feelings spurring out of his heart.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫ 

In the morning, as the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, you wake with a sense of unease lingering from the events of the previous night. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts about Aerion, Aegon, and the complex web of emotions entangling you.

The handmaidens enter quietly, bringing a basin of warm water and fresh linens. They help you into a simple but elegant morning gown, their hands gentle and efficient as they prepare you for the day ahead. Despite their calm presence, you can’t shake the tension in the air.

After dressing, you head to the dining hall for breakfast, apprehensive about facing Aegon. As you approach the hall, you hear the soft murmur of conversation. Steeling yourself, you enter the room.

Aerion is already there, looking as composed and handsome as ever, though his eyes light up with concern as he sees you. Aegon, on the other hand, sits silently, staring into his cup, his expression unreadable.

You take your seat, the tension between the three of you almost palpable. Aerion reaches over, his fingers brushing yours in a subtle gesture of reassurance. You manage a small smile, grateful for his presence.

Aegon finally looks up, his gaze locking with yours. There’s a flicker of hurt and something else—resignation, perhaps?—in his eyes. He opens his mouth as if to speak but then closes it, shaking his head slightly.

The silence is broken by the arrival of the other family members and courtiers, who fill the room with their chatter and laughter, oblivious to the undercurrents at your table. You focus on your food, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach.

After breakfast, Aerion suggests a walk in the gardens, a chance for some privacy away from prying eyes and ears. You disagree, wanting to speak with aegon about the happenings of last night.

After breakfast, Aerion suggests a walk in the gardens for some privacy, but you shake your head gently.

"No, Aerion. I need to talk to Aegon," you say, glancing over at your husband, who still sits at the table, his eyes fixed on his empty plate.

He hesitates but nods, understanding the importance of the conversation. "I'll be here if you need me," he murmurs, squeezing your hand before he leaves.

Taking a deep breath, you walk over to Aegon. He looks up at you, a mixture of frustration and sadness in his eyes. Without a word, he stands and takes your hand, leading you out of the dining hall. You're surprised by his sudden action but follow him quietly.

He leads you to another room, the council chamber. As you enter, he heads straight to the table and pours himself a glass of wine, leaning against the edge as he takes a sip. You stand there, hands behind your back, waiting for him to speak.

"When I saw you with Aerion in the garden," he begins, his voice tight with emotion, "I got angry. So angry."

He sets the glass down and looks at you, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. "Come closer," he instructs.

You hesitate for a moment but then step forward. As you reach him, Aegon takes your hand and pulls you against his body, positioning you between his legs. You can feel the tension radiating from him.

"Aegon," you start, but he silences you with a gentle touch to your lips.

"I need you to listen," he says softly. "Seeing you with him... it hurt me. Deeply. I know we've had our differences, but you're my wife. And I can't bear the thought of losing you to him."

You place a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. "I never wanted to hurt you, Aegon. Aerion and I... it was just a one time thing that happened out of the blue"

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Just promise to me that you will not go near him. I don’t wanna see you with someone else."

"Only me," he whispered, his voice trembling. You looked up at him, his eyes still closed. "That can be done" You stood on your toes and reached out for his cheek and gave him a small kiss.

Aegon opens his eyes and looks at you, his expression softening. “Well that settles it then."

You nod, relieved that he's willing to work give you another chance and not lash out. He pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close.

As you stand there in his arms, you feel a sense of hope. However, your mind couldn’t stop thinking about your relationship with the other twin, now that aegon is starting to show a little of his good personality. You’ve now found yourself in a situation that could break you or make your life better. This was all you could think about until aegon pulled you back to reality, his hand at the small of your waist. The hug lingers, lasting longer than either of you anticipated. You can feel Aegon's heartbeat slow and steady against your chest.

After what feels like an eternity, Aegon gently pulls back, his hands now resting on your shoulders. He looks into your eyes, a small, genuine smile forming on his lips. "I appreciate you for staying and talking to me, i thought you would’ve left”

You return his smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I was the one who wanted to talk with you, so why would i leave.”

He nods and then surprises you by lifting you slightly off your feet, twirling you around playfully. You laugh, the sound filling the room with lightness and joy.

Setting you back down, he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "Let's spend the day together," he suggests. "Just you and me. We can go for a ride, visit the market, anything you want."

You beam at him, touched by the effort he's making. "I'd love that."

Aegon takes your hand, leading you out of the council chamber. As you walk through the halls, you talk about trivial things, the heavy conversation from earlier giving way to lighter, more comfortable topics. The air between you feels clearer, the connection stronger. Then you noticed that you didn’t even say where you would like to go.

You looked up at him as you walked “May we visit the market, dear husband” you playfully said as you swinged the hand that was holding his.

“Where ever you want to go, i will come with” aegon looked at you, his eyes shining. You left out a sign of relief as you were able to get closer to him. You were glad that he didn’t turn out to be a furious husband as the rumors concurred throughout the Red Keep.

However, you were thinking so many thoughts, “What if there was a slight chance that aegon was just doing this to get his piece, a future heir” You didn’t want to think that way but what if it’s true.

a/n 2: i’ve proofread this so many times but there could very well still be mistakes :’(

© misswynters ‘24 - don’t modify or steal my writings

taglist: @sab-falco @spn-obession @tomgcsmrs @sturnioloarchive @arquiiva @malfoycassimalfoy @klutzylaena @champomiel @p45510n4f4shi0n

[lets-try-some-writing]

Emergency Protocols

Cybertronians cannot be alone. To be alone is a death sentence. There is a reason they travel in groups, and with the war in its last gasp, their numbers are dangerously low on both sides.

Faced with a fate far worse than mere death, things are tense. Unfortunately, both sides are forced to endure a rude and horrific wakeup call when the first of many falls victim to the process they had all hoped to escape.

(Big warning for robogore.)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I apologize, Mrs. Darby. I am afraid I cannot abide by your wishes.” Optimus stood firmly, his expression dark in a way Jack had never seen before. Next to him, Ratchet watched the scene like a hawk, his eyes bright and intense to such a degree that Jack involuntarily felt himself shuddering. The rest of the Autobots also seemed frozen as they observed in quiet grimness that was so unlike them that it was almost frightening.

Something had changed over the last few months. Ever since the Darkmount incident, the team had been… off. Jack didn’t claim to be any sort of expert, but it didn’t take a degree to see that the bots were more somber. Even Smokescreen, the most excitable of the group, spent more and more of his time pacing. Every single bot was out of sorts, always hanging around the main part of the hangar and never wandering far unless directly ordered by Optimus. Arcee wouldn’t even drive Jack home anymore. Jack, Miko, and Raf were almost always taken home by his Mom or by Fowler.

The worst part, at least in Jack’s opinion, was the way the bots always stopped to stare whenever he and his friends left. Whatever they were doing halted immediately and they all paused, watching critically as they left the hangar to get a ride back into Jasper with Fowler more often than not. It was a small detail, but oftentimes they seemed twitchy when it came time for Jack, Miko, and Raf to head to and from school.

They were almost upset by it, if Jack had to guess.

“You are NOT taking the kids to go talk to Megatron of all people! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Jack wanted to flinch as his Mom screamed, her face contorted in rage so bright it almost had Jack wishing he could shuffle away. But of course, he knew that wasn’t an option. The situation was tense enough that even Miko was quiet as she held Raf’s arm, trying to find some comfort as the scene unfolded.

“You already keep them here overnight whenever you can! And now you want to bring them out to face the giant metal beacon of DEATH that almost took over the world?!” His Mom’s voice echoed in the base, but not a single one of the bots moved. They all stood quietly, stiffly, even as they observed. All that could possibly be picked up from them was the faint sounds of their engines running and the ever-so-slight twitching of their eyes.

The bots had always been clingy. Jack had never been able to figure out why they’d tried to shoo him and his friends away only to then refuse to let them go anywhere when they had a say in things. Looking back, it was like a switch had been flipped. The bots never let him or the others wander far. They were always observed and always requested that they stay at base longer whenever it was feasible. It almost seemed desperate now that Jack thought about it. The way Arcee seemed reluctant to let him go when she drove him home. The look Bulkhead shared with Bumblebee when Miko and Rafael were similarly ordered to be brought back to their families. The strange expression of terror on Smokescreen’s face whenever Jack and his friends left for the evening…

Whatever was going on was finally about to reach its peak. Jack could feel it.

“I apologize, Mrs. Darby. We need the children. We cannot allow them to leave unless they are traveling with us.” Optimus’s voice was surprisingly quiet as he finally spoke up. Almost too quiet. A faint rattle in his words left Jack nervous more than anything else. How often had he ever seen Optimus upset? Once maybe? Even then, it was moreso a look of surprise. 

“What in heaven’s name could you possibly need my son and two innocent kids for? Bait?” His Mom’s retort was venomous, so much so that Raf stepped close to Jack on instinct. He didn’t think too hard about holding the younger boy’s hand and pulling Miko slightly behind him as Optimus’s eyes shrank down, the tiny pinpricks of glowing blue becoming smaller than ever before.

“We need the children. They are of us now. We cannot allow even one of our number to leave our sight, not like this, not right now.” Optimus twitched violently. His entire body seemed to lurch as he gripped the railing of the platform, putting Jack and the rest on the Prime’s level. The metal creaked, groaning under his strength as Optimus’s head tilted ever so slowly, his antennae drawn back in an almost aggressive manner.

Jack fought back the urge to run as he watched the rest of the bots crowd around, each of them staring quietly and in obvious agreement with their leader’s words. What was going on?

“Optimus, what’s going on?” Miko finally spoke up, her voice shaking with a hint of a whine as she looked between the Prime, Jack’s Mom, and the rest of the bots. He almost wanted to smack her for speaking up and possibly drawing more attention to them, but he couldn’t find the strength to do anything other than pull Miko closer to himself proactively. Whatever was going on here was beyond them.

“Miko, Jack, Rafael… I am sorry you were the ones wrapped up into this… but I will not risk my people dying. I refuse to condemn one of my own to the fate that awaits us if we are left alone.” Optimus twitched again, this time so violently that a crack echoed in the base. Jack winced but didn’t dare to move as Ratchet pulled Optimus back, his eyes never once leaving Jack and his friends.

“June, give them to us now. We aren’t asking, this is a demand.” Jack’s heart beat faster in his chest as Ratchet took Optimus’s place, holding out a hand and glaring at all of them like they’d personally offended him. Jack paused, too afraid to move, until Rafael tugged on his arm, gesturing toward Ratchet’s waiting hand. Miko seemed hesitant, but she was the first to obey and hurry over to the team medic. Jack didn’t have enough courage to tell her not to.

“Jack, Miko, Raf, don’t you three dare.” His Mom’s eyes were wide and filled with fear. Jack wanted to run, he wanted to scream. But what was he supposed to do? The bots were all so much stronger than them, and from the looks of it, they were willing to do just about anything to get their way.

“Mom, calm down. The bots have always brought us back from dangerous situations safely. This is pretty much the same, right?” Jack tried to soothe his Mom, but he felt a deep dread settle in his stomach as he finally got onto Ratchet’s hand, soon sitting with Raf and Miko pressed up against his sides as the tower giant that called himself a medic began to step toward the rest of the bots. 

Jack was only given a moment to see his Mom’s terrified face before Ratchet’s fingers curled enough that he couldn’t see. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Jack, do you think we are going to be alright? The bots… aren’t going to hurt us, are they?” Rafael clung to Jack’s side like a little kid, which he arguably was. Jack wrapped an arm around him in what he hoped was a comforting manner as he felt Ratchet begin to walk. 

“They haven’t hurt us before. I don’t think they are going to start now. Besides, this whole thing seems off. They seem to just want us around like some sort of good luck charm.” He attempted to comfort the younger boy, but Raf didn’t seem all that at ease. Jack couldn’t blame him, especially when Miko was sitting quietly for once, her eyes glued on the light of the groundbridge.

“They will be returned safely once talks with Megatron have concluded.” Optimus reassured Jack’s Mom again, but it did little to ease her. Jack could still hear her crying out as the team stepped through the groundbridge, Ratchet still holding all three of them protectively.

The moment they arrived on the other side, Ratchet’s fingers parted just enough that Jack could see through the gaps.

“Prime! You’ve finally arrived.” Megatron stood on top of the nearest rock formation, a legion of Vehicons all around and on the ground beneath him. Soundwave and Starscream stood at his sides, both watching with grim expressions. What happened to all the vicious eagerness Jack had witnessed time and time again when he’d gotten wrapped up in the bots war?

“Megatron, I appreciate your cooperation.” Optimus stepped forward, speaking for the entire group. Oddly enough, the entire team of Autobots huddled close together, each of them looking a second away from surging into action or having a panic attack. Smokescreen and Bumblebee seemed especially stressed, both hovering near one of the bigger bots for support. Ultra Magnus became a bit of a beacon as Optimus left the group. Arcee, Bulkhead, Bee, Smokescreen, and even Wheeljack all crowded around the Commander.

Ratchet remained about a foot or two away from the Autobot huddle pile, for which Jack was grateful since it gave him a good view of whatever was going on.

“Doc, what’s happening?” Miko called up to Ratchet, looking far more terrified than Jack had ever seen her. Miko was always one for battle and excitement, but the strange, unsettling aura of trepidation was evidently getting to her. Rafael wasn’t much better as he clung to Jack’s side, not even adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose.

Ratchet did not see fit to answer Miko’s question.

“Have you come to surrender at last?” Megatron cackled, his evil grin on full display. Jack personally wanted to cringe at the sheer ego expressed in Warlord’s tone, but he was more worried about how the bots were reacting. There was no anger, not even a hint of combat readiness. They just… huddled.

“No. But I come to bargain for peace.” Optimus raised his hands, not in surrender, but something more… friendly? Jack didn’t really have another way to describe it as the Prime kept his back to the team, watching Megatron like a hawk.

“There is no bargaining to be done here, Prime. I will accept nothing less than complete and total surrender.” Megatron raised his blaster, his grin unwavering. Again, Jack wanted to cringe or scowl, maybe both. But looking at Starscream and Soundwave had him even more concerned. They seemed nervous, and looking at the Vehicons, they also huddled together in a very similar fashion to the team.

This was wrong. Something about all of this was wrong. 

“Megatronus, enough. You and I both know that we are out of time. There are too few of us left. We cannot continue as we are. Sooner or later, one of us will succumb.” Succumb? Jack felt a hint of fear begin to seep into his body as he looked up at Ratchet, then at his friends, and then back to Optimus. All of them were afraid, at least to his eyes. Ratchet’s expression was sharp, his eyes wide and glowing in a way he’d never seen before. Optimus was unnaturally twitchy, scratching at his armor periodically as he spoke. Rafael and Miko were unusually silent, seemingly copying the team as they huddled against Jack’s side.

He didn’t stop them, instead holding them close as things continued to play out.

“You underestimate the fortitude of the Decepticons. We do not need your Autobots to ensure our survival.” Megatron hissed, anger blazing in his eyes. Those around him flinched, even Soundwave. Survival. This was about survival. That meant that something serious was on the line that Jack did not yet know about.

Why would the Autobots want to ally with the Decepticons for the sake of survival? They’d only ever done that when Unicron woke up. And even then, that was just Megatron, not the entire faction.

“You lost most of your Vehicons to the virus that plagued your ship, and many more fell during the battle at Darkmount. You know as well as I do that your numbers are dangerously low.” Optimus’s voice continued to rattle, his fingers digging into his shoulders as he clawed at his armor. The team made worried noises, but they didn’t dare move. Ratchet’s eyes widened even further as Jack momentarily looked up at him.

Numbers. Was this about the survival of the species? Last time he’d checked, Optimus had said Cybertronians were on the verge of extinction. But again, why ally with the Decepticons? Had Optimus finally cracked? But if that was the case, why did the Decepticons, minus Megatron, look so eager to accept the offer. The Vehicons kept edging closer, their weapons lowered as they fidgeted in fear.

“They’re scared. The bots and the cons are scared of something.” Rafael’s voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief in his tone. He hugged Jack’s arm tighter, prompting Miko to do the same. They were way out of their territory here.

“Not low enough to bring us to our knees. We will never bow before a Prime.” Megtron’s retort came spitefully. His words turned into a strange mess of sounds Jack couldn’t pick out as he ranted for a while longer. Jack assumed he must have been talking in Cybertronian, but it certainly still seemed to make Optimus more and more agitated.

“You are a fool! We are out of time, Megatronus! None of us are safe! Not you, not me, and not any of those under our command!” Something seemed to snap in Optimus as he threw his arms up, gesturing to everyone and everything with such energy that Jack had to blink a few times to see if he was seeing things right. Miko and Rafael physically recoiled as they watched Optimus start to claw at his armor again, creating deep indents as he grunted, bordering on a growl.

“Would you like to see Soundwave succumb? Do you really want to potentially lose your last loyal ally? What about the rest of your troops? Do you want to watch them suffer as base coding takes over?” Again, Optimus spoke, his voice shaking in a way that was previously unimaginable. His movements were almost desperate as he continued tugging on and scratching his plating, almost like he had an insatiable itch. Jack couldn’t see much from where he was, but Optimus turned ever so slightly, letting him get a glimpse of the wild and crazed look in his eyes before he refocused.

The bots shifted all around him, huddling even closer and even going so far as to hold onto one another. Even Ratchet shuffled closer to the team, cradling Jack and his friends but not once tearing his gaze away from the scene.

“Your ridiculous chattering aggravates me. I need none of your Autobots to keep my troops secure. But you need us.” Megatron's tone was mocking, almost like he’d won some great battle. Optimus responded in short order, even more frantic than the first time, but in a quieter way.

“We need each other. This war has gone on too long, and if it continues as it has, we are going to fall.” Jack found himself more and more afraid just listening to the sheer amount of defeat in the Prime’s tone. He looked… scared. Well and truly scared as he started to hunch over a bit. 

“Then so be it! I will never succumb! I am Megatron of Kaon!” The leader of the Decepticons cackled, likely preparing to go on into another rant. But he was cut off by a choked sound from Optimus, one that left Jack fighting back the urge to close his eyes.

“You cannot-” Optimus lurched, his limbs twitching erratically as he continued to make an unsettling gagging sound. His antennae moved in unsteady motions, his armor rattled, and his fans blew open as he clutched his abdomen.

“Prime? Are you alright?” Bulkhead hesitantly called out, prompting Optimus to turn around for a brief moment. Miko looked like she wanted to say something, but she shut up the moment the Prime faced them. His optics were wider than wheels, and his jaw hung open in what looked to be a silent, horrifying realization. 

“Sir, step back. A retreat may be in order-” Ultra Magnus also tried to offer a comment, but Optimus just twitched again, his erratic movements turning into fullbody shaking as his voice became pure static for a long agonizing moment. He clawed at his arms, tearing off pieces of armor in terrified, desperate motions, almost like he was too hot.

“N-no…. This… this cannot be my end.” Optimus’s words were choppy and frantic, so much so that Megatron’s smile was wiped from his face. Jack felt his own expression fall as he pulled Miko and Rafael back, his hand coming to rest on their heads as he felt the instinctual need to prepare to cover their eyes.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

“Everyone! Get back!” Ratchet all but shoved Jack and his friends into Arcee’s waiting hands. They all yelped, clutching Arcee’s fingers as Ratchet stood in front of the team, urging them back. Between the gaps in Arcee’s fingers, Jack saw a sight that would horrify him until the end of his days.

Optimus was still standing, but he was contorted in such a way that Jack wanted to feel sick. He was bent over, almost like he was trying to perform a gymnastics maneuver only to be stuck halfway. Metal-looking structures jutted out of his spine, possibly his version of ribs. They shone with a sticky substance that hung in strands, still connecting them to the Prime’s body. His expression was pulled taut in what Jack could only assume was pain as Megatron all but screeched for his soldiers to step back.

“Get away from him!” The Vehicons didn’t need to be told twice before booking it back to Megatron’s side. Jack took the chance to cover Rafael and Miko’s eyes as Optimus, usually so composed, fell to crying out in agony.

“H-Help me! I-it hurts-!” Optimus clawed at his armor, wailing as he grasped his head, pulling on his antennae and scratching at his face and neck like it would help him escape whatever was happening. He looked almost feverish as his armor flared and his fans roared.

“M-my spark! Hurts-!” Optimus’s words faded into a scream as he frantically tore off his own armor in a spray of energon. Anywhere he could reach, he dug his fingers under plating and ripped them off. It looked agonizing, almost like he was skinning himself to try and release some deep pain Jack couldn’t even comprehend. Wires were exposed, bright and scarred gray skin like surfaces bleeding as the Prime continued to tear at himself. Miko and Rafael shook against his sides, reminding Jack to keep his hands over their eyes even as he watched on, unable to look away.

“What’s happening!?” Miko whimpered into Jack’s shirt, but he didn’t answer her. Instead, he held her tighter, fighting back the urge building in his gut to vomit.

“PRIMUS HAVE MERCY! MERCY UPON ME!” Optimus screamed like a dying man, twisting like he didn’t know where he was. He flailed before falling to his knees, energon leaking from his mouth, his audials, his eyes, and his vents. He choked and gagged, trying to scream as his spine tore itself out of him, extending and spreading as small rib-like protrusions rose like wings, making room for strange bulbous masses to form all over Optimus’s back.

All over his body, the things Jack assumed were bones ripped themselves out of Optimus’s body in jagged, terrifying snaps. Any remaining armor started to melt, especially around his arms and legs, as more masses developed there. The masses were gray but had a strange hue-shifting look to them that made them glimmer like the world’s most messed-up rainbow, all accompanied by the agonized wail of the ever-stoic leader of the Autobots.

The whole scene looked like it crawled straight from hell, especially as gray looking sludge started to form around him as his armor continued to melt right off and pieces of what looked to be his version of skin began to warp.

“I knew one of us was going to bud!” Smokescream shrieked, covering his face with a sob as he stepped back, only stopped by Arcee who barked at him loud enough for Jack to wince as her voice rang in his ears.

“Shut up!” Jack only tore his eyes away from Optimus’s torture long enough to watch the team start to panic. Wheeljack and Bulkhead clung to each other like the Rapture was on the horizon. Bumblebee had fallen to the ground, watching in shocked horror as Optimus continued to wail. Smokescreen was only held up by Ratchet, who clutched his arm so tightly there had to be dents.

Only Ultra Magnus remained firm, but even that looked like a fragile façade.

“There’s nothing we can do now. Remain clear of the containment area.” Magnus stood firmly, placing a hand over his chest in what looked to be a salute of sorts as the horrific scene continued to unfold. 

Megatron and his Decepticons just watched. They didn’t even try to fire as they watched Optimus cry out in agony, the masses all over him growing like tumors combined with the world’s worst allergic reaction. His face split like dried and cracked earth, letting energon pour from the wounds. The same happened all over his frame, internals falling onto the floor as his very body melted from the inside out. The grows just kept getting bigger, cracking and shattering whatever remained of Optimus’s skeleton. 

Jack had to swallow the bile building in his throat as Optimus’s limbs snapped, bending backwards and at odd angles the shouldn’t have been possible. His jetpack had long since been torn to shreds, clinging to the mass on his back like some sort of thorn. The Prime had another growth on his chest that left him breathing frantically as he choked on what Jack could only assume were his own fluids. Two more hung off his arms, each creeping along him like mold. Two others infested his legs, popping off Optimus’s tires and consuming whatever mass was there.

He never stopped screaming.

“By the Unmaker…” Megatron’s curse was just loud enough to hear over the cacophony of sobs mixed with howls of torment coming from the Prime. Jack hardly registered his friends shaking against him, crying softly as they listened. He was glad they couldn’t see. Good lord, he was so glad.

Optimus desperately tried to move with his shattered body, the Matrix shining through a gap in his chest where the growth had not yet infested. The thing shocked him relentlessly as he pulled himself along, trying to get to help. His eyes exploded like light bulbs, leaving him blind and in even more agony as his very jaw began to melt right off, unhinging as if someone had knocked the screws holding it in place clean off. His fingers swelled like grotesque sausages, the armor on them distending until they snapped and the fingers turned into nothing more than good and bits of wire.

The Prime kept crying, trying to reach but ultimately being forced onto his stomach as he weakly pleaded for aid.

“Help… me… please… brother…” Optimus lifted an arm, one almost entirely overtaken by the growth. He reached in Megatron’s direction, but the warlord merely shook his head in horror and disbelief. Not a soul moved, and even Smokescreen’s sobs when quiet as Optimus whimpered one final time before his throat caved in.

Jack wasn’t sure if he was dead or not, but he certainly hoped so, if only for Optimus’s sake, as his body continued to twist and be devoured by whatever was on him. The growths consumed almost everything, bulking and breaking off of Optimus’s mutilated husk once they’d eaten almost all of him. Jack couldn’t bear to look at the corpse as the growths started to squirm, warping and changing.

Forming limbs.

“Is… is Optimus dead?” Raf’s voice was soft, almost a sniffle. Jack didn’t dare move his hands away from his friend’s eyes, decidedly not acknowledging the way his hands shook or how sick he felt.

“I don’t know Raf.” Jack’s words were surprisingly calm, but he chalked that up to shock as each of the masses continued to shift and change, forming into... their own entities. One by one they came online, their eyes lighting up a brilliant blue as they stood on unsteady legs. There were six, five of which appeared to be of similar design. Only the largest stood out, its armor sharp and its body built with a degree of elegance in mind.

All six of the new entities assessed themselves, looking over their bodies. The five smaller entities all had wings, but more startlingly, they all had Optimus’s eyes, albeit with slightly different takes on the design. It was almost like they were related somehow.

Jack wasn’t given time to think much about it as the biggest of the six quietly moved to Optimus’s body, or at least what remained of it. The five followed, the whole group staring at the Prime’s body for a long moment before the biggest reached down, and pulled out the Matrix. The relic was covered in energon, and yet it still somehow looked innocent as the largest one held the relic up, presenting it to Autobot and Decepticon alike.

“Hot Rod of Optimus Prime.” The biggest one, Hot Rod, announced themselves with a stoic expression that rivaled the fallen Prime. The rest of the five soon joined in the chorus.

“Silverbolt.” One of the five presented themselves with a proud salute, their frame blocky and obviously still developing.

“Air Raid.” Another followed in their lead, copying the first.

“Fireflight.” Again, another of the five spoke out, and each voice that rang out seemed to make the bots and cons shrink in on themselves.

“Skydive.” 

“Slingshot.”

The last two exclaimed their names with both glee and a degree of solemn understanding. Jack finally released his hands from where they’d covered Miko and Raf’s faces, letting them see these new bots. They gasped, and Miko began to cry the moment she saw Optimus’s corpse. Jack didn’t try to comfort her. It was useless.

The six stood there, as if waiting for orders. They were without color, and their armor was still shifting like goo. However, they all looked up to Megatron; their actions synchronized as they spoke in unison, leaving Jack’s skin crawling.

“We are of Optimus Prime, and we desire peace.” They all spoke, but Megatron wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head, terror etched onto his features as he threw himself into the sky.

“Decepticons! Retreat to the Nemesis!” Without hesitation, all the Decepticons flew back toward the warship looming overhead, not even trying to take advantage of the situation.

The six, for their part, turned to stare at the team, Jack and his friends included. He could feel their eyes raking over him, assessing him like he was some interesting subject in a lab. He hated it. He wanted to be sick, to sob, and then to never emerge from his room again.

“We will continue our originator’s work in his stead. We will not allow his death to be in vain.” Silverbolt, or at least the one Jack assumed was Silverbolt, collected the battered remains of Optimus’s corpse. The broken thing was little more than a few pieces of melted metal smelted together into an unflattering slab. The only reason it could even be tied to Optimus at all was because of the cracked remnants of a face that stuck to it.

Jack wasn’t sure he would be able to hold back the bile any longer as the six all smiled, the biggest one who still held the Matrix, stepping forward like they were always part of the team.

“Shall we return to base?”

[wutheringskies]

Wei Wuxian: The Untamed Hero

Wei Wuxian had to be killed even if:

1. He carried his sword

2. He didn't use gui dao

3. He didn't create Yin HuFu

4. The Wen remnants were not in the plot

Then, why? The reason is here, voiced by Jin Zixun of all people:

Wei WuXian, you are too bold! Did the LanlingJin Sect invite you today? And you dare run wild here. Do you really think that you’re invincible, that nobody has the courage to confront you? Do you want to overturn the Heavens?”

Wei WuXian smiled, “You’re comparing yourself to the Heavens? Excuse my language, but your face is a little too thick, isn’t it?”

So, you see, this untamed heart can only meet with tragedy as the world is unrighteous, as those who are in power think their actions cannot be contested (and they often aren't!), and that their words are like the law. How many times have we seen, a convicted powerful person escape the justice system? Far too many. And how many times innocents or victims were framed for crimes? Also too many. People like Wei Wuxian aren't condemned by fate, but rather, being born into a world where the "heavens" are those who are powerful and corrupted, he very well might be destined to live tragically, along with others of his type.

Returning to the matter of this particular scene: on one hand, the Jins throw private banquets, gilded with gold. The major scandals are: Jin Zixun is forcing the Lans to drink alcohol! You see, Lan Xichen can't outrightly refuse, so he is trying to be polite about his rejection. Jin Guangyao is trying to reason and excuse, and distract. The crowd spurs Jin Zixun on, wanting to see the Lans drink for once and fall to their level.

Everyone is in their own fine little world, doing their niceities in their golden halls drinking expensive wine, admiring pretty women, gasping at scandalous behavior, asking for favour, gossiping etc.

And then Wei Wuxian walks in. Uninvited. He simply drinks the wine himself, before demanding these people to spare him their time for real wordly issues, such as deaths, debts, cruelty, the parts that society wishes to hide. A few scenes later, we are shown with much description, just how terrible Qiongqi Path is. That's the Jin's backyard. You see their achievements that are drawn on those big walls? We see the reality of the people making them.

Now, let us come to another incident. Think of the soup incident. I fully expect before Wei Wuxian came into the scene, people were simply gossiping, uninterested in finding out what was going on, why Lady Jiang is crying. Then, Wei Wuxian comes and realizes Jiang Yanli who never really cries... was crying, and firstly decides to beat the shit out of Jin Zixuan. Secondly, he understands the whole truth, beats Jin Zixuan up for humiliating his Shijie, and also makes the other girl face responsibility.

Although his shijie had an easy temper, except for how they cuddled and cried together the day the three of them reunited after Lotus Pier was destroyed, she hadn’t really shed many tears in front of others, much less cry so loudly, so pitifully in front of so many people. Wei WuXian was filled with panic. As he tried to ask her, Jiang YanLi was crying so badly that she couldn’t even speak properly. Then, when he saw Jin ZiXuan standing on the side, astonished, he fumed with anger, wondering to himself why it was the dog of a person again. With a kick, he pounced on Jin ZiXuan. The fight between the two would have alerted the Heavens. All of the cultivators around the base came to break up their fight. Amid the ruckus, he finally understood what was the cause of all this, and became even more angered. He spread his tough talk, saying that one day he’d definitely make Jin ZiXuan die in his hands, he told people to drag out the cultivator woman.

A round of questions later, the truth emerged, and Jin ZiXuan’s entire body was frozen. No matter how much Wei WuXian continued to curse at him, he returned neither words nor fists, his face dark. If not that Jiang YanLi held up her hand a while later, while Jiang Cheng and Jin GuangShan came to pull Wei WuXian away, it was likely that even now Jin ZiXuan wouldn’t be able to attend the hunt of Phoenix Mountain.

See.

The point is, perhaps, people feel Wei Wuxian's actions are unnecessary. But imagine if he wasn't there! The consequences as I predict them will have been:

1. Jiang Cheng who doesn't want to upset a prominent clan would've grumbled and cursed underneath his breath, but eventually just moved away from the ruckus and taken his sister away.

2. Perhaps the truth would never have been found out, unless Jin Zixuan later searched by himself.

3. Thus, Jiang Yanli's reputation would be stained for the years to come.

It's because Wei Wuxian dared that the truth was revealed. I took this small incidents simply to highlight this, without the addition of more factors. In the book, often, it might seem like people are trying to stop him from creating trouble. You might often wish, ugh, this is going to be so bad... The point is Wei Wuxian knows! He's not stupid, he knows of the consequences of his actions.

But he isn't the one creating trouble. It was already created by the likes of those very people who try to stop him from investigating deeper. The trouble in question is that immoral and unrighteous words and actions and decisions have already been made. Society tries to hide them. If you can't see it, it's not there. Yet, even if it is not visible, a crime has its traces and it will bleed into their world sooner or later.

Wei Wuxian forces people to snap out of their comfort zones. He doesn't care for the barriers they set around themselves. Here are some examples to explain what I mean by these barriers:

Who dares hit Jin Zixuan, who's the only heir of LanlingJin, even when he deserves it? Protected by his status, his birth, his clan who dares? Wei Wuxian does.

Who dares to annoy Lan Wangji, the second jade of Lan, who from birth is considered otherwordly, strict, immovable, rigid, untouchable and protected by his extreme cold aura? Wei Wuxian dares.

Who dares to enter cultivation society without even wielding sword, without even cultivating a core? Wei Wuxian!

Since time unknown, treasures have belonged to the powerful sects: The Lan Clan and their library, their many secret techniques. The Jin clan and their treasures, their gold. The Nie Sabres. The Zidian. Yet, a son of a servant somehow ends up possessing the most powerful treasure all by his own! Everyone goes to this popular refinery, some famed blacksmith, or that popular sect to get specially created spiritual weapons, yet Chenqing, one of the most powerful weapons, was forged alone by Wei Wuxian during his 3 months in the Burial Mound!

Since years, the cultivation world has taken to heart rules of Lans, words of the powerful sects, and their leaders! Then, once again, this orphan child comes and bends the world and changes the cultivation society forever! Yiling Laozu said that... Yiling Laozu created... Yiling Laozu's manuscripts...

His words literally become the law.

Think of how 13 years after Wei Wuxian's death when "all was peaceful" despite us knowing very well, just how much shit happened after his death - slaughter of minor clans, deaths of two prominent sect leaders, xue yang etc (because, you know, most of it was purely accidental, kept hush-hush, or the victims were people who weren't important), he comes back to life and in a matter of a couple of months, upends the cultivation society again.

The "problem" is that this guy simply doesn't conform. The problem is that he is better. The problem is that he is not unnecessarily humble about it, despite his origins. He doesn't seem to treat himself as an outlier, but an equal. (That's why I hate insecure Wei Wuxian, like this guy is righteous enough he won't even treat himself badly.) The problem is that all those barriers - social classes, power, the locked doors - they won't keep him away.

Even if he was only the Jiang Da-shixiong with a bright golden core, he will still not be a conformist. To those who aren't used to having their decisions questioned, he is their worst enemy. To whose who are used to talking in circles, spreading rumors, he is asking them. What source do you have? What is the factual evidence behind what you are saying? Why are you saying this now?

Think of how he cross questioned a petty seller selling Yiling Laozu portraits in Qinghe, and how he questioned the gathered cultivation sects in Lotus Pier during Sisi and Bicao's intervention with the same sort of attitude. Surely, there was a major class difference, power difference between the two. Yet, they don't matter to him. What matters is the truth.

So, no matter what, when the people who are in power, start having too much dirty laundry and corpses in their backyards, he will definitely know. For this guy, knowing isn't enough - he will get to the crux of the issue. The problem is, he even has the skill for it. He has the ability. One also can't distract him with offers, promises, gifts, riches, status, women. He doesn't care for any of that. He perhaps might even hate one's victims. Yet he will stand up for them.

Of course, those who are in power, all smile at each other. They understand things sometimes have to be done. People sometimes have to be silenced. "We know better."

Then, Wei Wuxian comes in and says, actually you don't. He comes in with factual accounts, evidences, forces you to face your misdeeds. Says you're all a bunch of hypocritical people. No, perhaps what is worse is that he will make you realize that's what you are! Because he's got to be good at talking, too! He's not going to act on anger or be stunned in fear.

So, now you have someone who's not only digging into your evil deeds, someone who's capable, who's not easy to persuade, but also someone with high emotional intelligence who can play the same role as you do, of being a noble, accepted gentlemen with immaculate manners, of very high literacy and outdo you. Because this guy knows very well how society works, he can comprehend social cues perhaps better than you can. He can use your own polite words and nature against you.

It's precisely because of this he must be killed. Perhaps, in every world, Wei Wuxian will end up being the victim. It's only that in MDZS, these were the particular circumstances, and those were the particular excuses.

My personal take is: sometimes it is good to be a centrist, and hold everyone's better intentions in mind. most of the times it might not be, as there are many conflicting systems in place that allow for true victims who are stuck. most often, the victims are always the ones who DON'T have a voice, who are brushed over as numbers of corpses, rather than people with stories. most often, kindness is shown in little action that are trampled upon by those who hold true power. most often the people who are good, who are heroes die young, or are hated and ridiculed, for speaking up for the victims. it's not right, and never will be.

if someone like wei wuxian or his presence in the book makes you uncomfortable it might be because you hold the "niceities" and the pleasantries to be of more importance than the issues at hand. just because something is too troublesome doesn't mean it is wrong. if everytime he enters the scene you're scared of what he's going to do next, you should know it's not him who is the problem but the prople who aren't doing anything who are. don't be scared of "trouble-makers." he's not erratic or spontaneous. he has considered society's standards and deemed it useless. why is that that the koi tower scene, where he is in his "yiling laozu, loss of control, threatening" moment is followed immediately by him being extremely kind to Wen qing ? it's not that he's losing control. it's that Jin Zixun wouldn't have acted and told him where the people were without him using intimidation tactics. Wei Wuxian is the one forced into bad corners by the powerful people, where he has to show his edges. Don't end up twisted the narratives. if you bite someone for a while, expect to be hit.

[theepitomeofamess]

ok ok it's theory time bc i'm rewatching mismag 1 as a coping mechanism so potential spoilers ahoy & forgive me if it's rambly i've also had a sedative

the serpent in the storm. the one without a name and only shown as an illumination in the Tome of Nimble Working. is that what was possessing evan? like is it the amalgamation of the "demons" that were haunting him, or even just The Main Guy? i'm not sure if this creature has anything to do with the breaking of magic, I just started thinking about this today at work, but hear me out.

in Class Conflict, the manifestation of the thing haunting Evan when it emerged to protect him was the blood cobra, and the barb that Tallulah hit Evan with after potions class was that all she heard was "hissing noises." so we know that snakes are something evil & monstrous in wizard culture (as much as they were in HP) but not because they're the mascot of the "evil house" Aqarbus. so where did the serpent symbolism come from?

later, in Family on Six when Evan makes the agreement to lean on the demons to save K, the "permanent change" that Brennan describes is that out of the shadow across evan's face "just goes black and is leaking black oil and water." aabira's description of the illumination of this creature was "a mix between a snake and an oil-soaked bird of prey." oil-soaked.

this is kinda what got me thinking in the first place, because what are the things you think of when you think of Evan Kelmp? Bird Facts and Gas Station Parking Lots. this absolutely feels like something Aabria would pull to make Brennan eat the lore he created.

it's also the type of shit she would do because of K's attempts to find any sort of books about what these "demons" might be during the exorcism, only to be met with "you think you're going to find me in a book?" maybe not named. not studied. no anatomical drawings or any sort of understanding as to what it is. but yeah. they'll find it in a book.

i do think that maybe this bird snake entity has been tied to Evan since before his birth---aabria's description in the latest S2 ep: "you feel yourself and the inside of you is empty, and something that was always meant to be poured in is beginning to pour itself back in" tells me that Evan was born to be a vessel for something. now, the demons at the exorcism said that Evan was promised to them. promised by whom? promised by what? maybe by the thing that knew it was going to be held within Evan, and knew that if he were to grow up with a dark enough childhood, if he were to be haunted enough, he might become the Dark One.

now, we don't really know the mythology of the Dark One. we don't know what sort of prophecy was told about it. going off of the general trope of the thing, we've gotta assume that it's something along the lines of "this person will unleash a great terror/darkness/evil upon the world." this likely was supposed to happen as a result of evan's torment like a psychotic break, or maybe as a defense mechanism in a life-or-death situation. either way, this creature and the magic that it represents would have wanted to be released, maybe still using Evan as a vessel and working through him to maintain its unknown, mythological status. this thing isn't Tad, it can't and won't be lulled to sleep.

could this creature have been accidentally released as a result of sam's exorcism? probably, it had to have been a thing or else it wouldn't be on the orery.(besides, this ancient monstrosity would never have anticipated Sam Black). could it be that it was released after K killed Evan? possibly, idk how often gm's rearrange lore behind the scenes to better fit what's happened in the story they're playing through.

whatever the case, I do think that it's not insignificant that Evan only started getting inklings of this sort of repossession leaking in after the events on Seeganpelater. the place where he saw the creature through the serpent's watch (a scene that in illustration implies that, maybe, the serpent could see them, too). the place where he snapped his wand. the place where he killed Boudicca. where we saw him be a magic murderer, where we saw him truly tap into the darkness he's been assigned his whole life. somewhere on cannibal Island, there was a moment of reconnection, and it helps that the very next places they went to were the islands that 1) stressed Evan out beyond belief, and 2) worked with amplification. it was able to strengthen its bond either the minute they landed, or as soon as Evan leaned into his strengths to scratch the tree with his shadow.

maybe this creature is what broke the well of magic. maybe it created the storm and destroyed Gowpenny. maybe this is a version of the Dark One prophecy coming true, breaking the rules of magic to the point that the entire system is broken and the world can never be what it used to. maybe it's not involved in anything and is just reveling in the chaos. I don't know. maybe all of these are coincidences between seasons. fun to think about, though!

[n0cturn4]

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: The tension in the air became palpable Word Count: 741 Music: When it's time - Green Day

In the city of Gotham, the night unfolded like a cloak of gentle mist, where the moonlight danced upon the puddles formed by the rain, like small windows into an ethereal world. You walked through the silent streets, your footsteps echoing amidst the whisper of the wind. The shadows, like figures in a nocturnal ballet, moved beneath the soft glow of the streetlights, transforming the urban bustle into a magical symphony. Amidst your daydreams, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

“Hey, it’s not safe to walk alone out here at night,” a deep, warm voice broke the silence. You turned to find Dick Grayson, wrapped in his dark suit, with a smile that illuminated the darkness like the moon itself.

“And you, what are you doing here?” you asked, a smile blooming on your lips. Dick always had a knack for appearing when his presence was most needed.

“Just taking a stroll, trying to keep Gotham safe,” he replied, leaning slightly as if the city were a sanctuary to be protected. “I can do that with a little help.”

A thrill coursed through your heart. Dick was more than a hero; he was a friend, a confidant, a light amid the darkness. With him, insecurity faded, and excitement took hold of you.

“Shall we take a walk?” he suggested, extending his hand. You hesitated for a moment, but soon your hand found his, feeling the warmth and strength that radiated from him. As you walked, he spoke enthusiastically about the team’s latest adventures, their victories and challenges. The passion in his voice made your heart race.

Suddenly, he stopped, turning to you, his blue eyes shining with the moon's silver light. “You know, I’ve always admired your courage,” he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. “You don’t fear facing what lies ahead, and that inspires me.”

“Thank you, Dick,” you replied, warmth flooding your cheeks. “But you’re the true hero here.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly, as if to deflect the praise. “Maybe, but heroes also need someone by their side, someone to help keep them focused.”

At that moment, the tension in the air became palpable, an expectation hovering between you. Dick moved a little closer, and you could smell his signature scent—a mix of leather and a subtle fragrance that made your heart flutter.

“I... I want you to know that you’re important to me,” he began, hesitating as if the words were precious pearls to be carefully offered. “I’ve been fighting my own demons, and often, it’s you who brings me back to reality.”

His words echoed within you like a soft violin's touch. “Dick, I care about you too. I’ve always cared” you confessed, your gazes intertwining in a silent dance.

Time seemed to stop as you both locked eyes, the intensity of the moment swelling like a silent storm. Then, without a second thought, he leaned in and sealed your lips in a gentle kiss, but one full of meaning. The world around you vanished, and all that existed was the connection between you two, like stars united in a vast night sky.

When your lips parted, Dick smiled shyly, a fragility contrasting with the confidence he usually displayed. “I didn’t want to miss this chance,” he said, his timidity making the moment even more special.

“Me neither,” you replied, still a bit dazed but enveloped in a radiant happiness. “Gotham may be dark, but with you, everything seems clearer.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours, as if wanting to seal a pact under the moonlight. Together, you began to traverse the streets of Gotham, where the shadows whispered ancient secrets and the air was filled with the freshness of the night. Each step resonated like an echo of unspoken promises, and you felt the city around you pulse with new energy.

The gentle mist wrapped around both of you like a protective cloak, while the moonlight illuminated a path full of possibilities. In that moment, the city's hustle seemed to quiet, and all that mattered was the connection blossoming between you. The night of revelations became a prelude to a new story, a tale that was just beginning to be written beneath the stars, in a universe where love and friendship intertwined like shadows in the moonlight.

[rose-maidenn]

Chaos magick of Gemini-punarvasu , Devi Aditi and my personal takes , ft Wanda Maximoff

Before I start Aditi choses her power to create with peace and love always and though I have done some comparisons in no way am I against Wanda or my Goddess .

Also it's @azure-cherie here I'm back cause I had to share this with yall , a possible explanation would be that in a way I need a change and my life has been rapidly changing too , I will keep this blog low-key and less serious so I can focus on my life and post some interesting observations. I hope yall have been well I missed yall so so much

Let's begin :

Wanda is played by punarvasu moon Elizabeth Olsen . After the death of vision entirely fabricates another reality in the show Wanda vision , though she does not realise she causes pain and agony and separation to the people around her she formulates a husband and her kids , she wants a fairytale so she creates it , this goes to show the height of punarvasu illusion the world of fantasies and delusions one uses to protect themselves against the harshness of the reality , the grief in her is her is so large that it encompasses the creation of something new .

After the tear shed of ardra the grief in her creates something new a new world of wonders as the punarvasu renews the light, the renewal of light is often a creation accompanied by transformation and though the process might be of beauty the transformation is of generative power , the world often complains of suffering and pain the creatrix Aditi also created the matrix the sadness the happiness are all but fragments of her Maya she is Bhuvaneshwari all encompassing , she holds the power to lead you through transformation which ofcourse is preceded through the dark night of the soul .

Her grief makes her to form new realities one could call this a form of schizophrenia caused by ptsd that's what happens when the kick of magic falls in it creates new realities . One more example of this can be seen in Shelly Duvall , some articles claim her to be schizophrenic which was cause due to her trauma in life, she nevertheless lived a life of her choices. We all go to our childhood when we need a sense of peace we search paradise in it wanda's paradise was a 60s sitcom and the way out to reality was through facing her traumas that's what all of us have to go through once in a while .

As Agatha narrates wanda " This is chaos magick wanda , that makes you the scarlet witch " she narrates how Wanda is a being capable of spontaneous creation, she creates what she creates she does have power over herself but not over her chaos magick it protects her it empowers her . In the shastras there isn't much written about Aditi who she is where she emerges from etc she simply appears , she simply creates , she's simply a secret likewise life imitates the divinity , Agatha makes her know that she has been written about in the book of the damned . She also says her that she has power but a lack of knowledge, as she hasn't learned the basics of magick .

" The scarlet witch is not born she is forged, she has no coven , no need for incantation " likewise Aditi appears before the universe she creates the Trimurti , she creates Daksha and is Born to Daksha , she rules she creates she forms shes truth she is maya she is the lotus the divine swan . Agatha tells wanda how it's her destiny to destroy the world , to which wanda replies she never learned magic and ultimately wanda tries to protect her fabricated reality but it wears off , the darkhold takes control of her and she reappears in the multiverse of madness ( didn't watch it yet ) I know yet that she was forced by her mind into a new world of dark spells and craft but ultimately wanted to stop strange from doing the mistake that she herself did , she didn't die at the end of the movie as a red light shines " Scarlet witch is alive and breathing " her ways might be dark but her intentions were pure .

🌷My views on the entirety of the situation

Punarvasu bestows you with the gift of creation but it's in ones hand to channel it use it for the good and the bad , it's dependent on us .

The power is preceded by the dark night of the soul and intense situation of purge and fantasy and illusion to win against Maya one has to understand Maya likewise punarvasu has to go through it to understand the true power of themselves .

Punarvasu acts as the antihero in the dynamics of the world , we all mimic the deity of our nakshatra so do we mimick her , yes the world was created for peace and beauty but the cathonian question always arises that why there is so much pain in the world then? We complain to the divine mother our mother about the pain but can she eradicate pain because the eradication of the pain eradicates the chances of existence , the world is constantly jiggling between creation preservation and destruction one has to go through it all , you can blame the mother but can you truly blame her she's the antihero.

Punarvasu like a child goes on teaching when they themselves don't know enough, power without knowledge brings pain , in my personal experiences this is true , I believe I was in dire need of more knowledge that's what I'm seeking right now.

While scorpio engulfs power from the sources to their requirements they know what they deserve and so they can handle it while the gemini is a naive child who simply holds mostly without a vessal so cultivation of strong boundaries in punarvasu is essential for ones sanity . The power disparity in Scorpio and gemini sometimes creates fallouts between Scorpio and gemini because the Scorpio doesn't find the gemini worthy . But scorpios do bring enlightenment to geminis.

A hold upon our boundaries is the most crucial or else the generative engine that doesn't cause exhaustion starts causing delusion which taps into the darkside, start empowering yourself and in humbleness live a beautiful life . The beautiful life might call for you to disappear or just be silent but know that true power is one within ones mind it's not to be shown but just to be felt .

Om Aditi namah 🪷

Thank you so much for reading I believe I'm truly blessed by Aditi devi for the knowledge she imparted in me regarding this I feel blessed . Have a beautiful time ahead.

[doumadono]

EMERGENCY REQUEST

Hello my dear friend.. I apologize for using your emergency requests for something so trivial, but my nightmares have been absolutely killing me.. I'm always so terrified to go to sleep and even when I do, the nightmares plague me so badly that I hardly ever feel like I've slept at all and I feel like I'm losing my mind. I just want to scream and cry and rip my hair out, and I just want to sleep and actually FEEL like I've slept.

But all of that out of the way, I was hoping you might be able to do something with Douma, Akaza, and Kokushibo (all three or just one is fine) who are with a male human s/o who suffers terribly from night terrors and how they might help comfort their s/o.

Thank you so much for being such a beautiful, kind, loving, wonderful human being. I adore you so much 💜 You are truly such a warm presence in my life and I am so grateful for you

Upper Moons 1, 2, 3 & male s/o suffering with nightmares

A/N: oh, tiger, I'm so sorry to hear that you've been going through such a challenging time. Your well-being means a lot to me, you know that, and I'm here for you. First and foremost, your well-being is never trivial, and your struggles are always valid. Remember, it takes immense strength to share such vulnerabilities, and you've already taken a brave step. It's okay to feel overwhelmed, but never forget the strength that resides within you. I'm honored to be a part of your life, and your warmth and gratitude mean the world to me. Take one step at a time, and I'm here to support you through every single one. 💜 Always here for you

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Douma

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced on the walls as Douma's boyfriend writhed in the grip of night terrors. Douma, the Upper Moon Two, lounged elegantly nearby, observing with an unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement. A sadistic grin played on his lips as he observed the torment consuming his partner's dreams.

Despite his typically twisted nature, Douma was surprisingly attuned to the human psyche. He approached the boyfriend's trembling form with a languid grace, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Oh, my dear," he purred, "how delightful it is to witness the chaos within your mind."

"It's terrifying, Douma-sama," the man sobbed. "I don't want to see all those things..."

As his arms encircled his partner, there was an unexpected gentleness in the demon's touch, as though he had momentarily set aside his sadistic tendencies to embrace a softer side. His long fingers with sharp nails traced patterns on the man's back, a delicate dance that contradicted the ferocity he often exhibited.

In a voice that, against all odds, carried a sweetness the man never thought possible from Douma, he whispered into the man's ear, "My love, do you feel the warmth of my embrace? It's a flame that burns brighter than any darkness." His breath was a soft caress against your skin, the chilling aura he usually exuded replaced by a comforting warmth.

He traced a finger along his boyfriend's cheek. "You know," he mused, "the beauty of your nightmares is exquisite. You need to embrace the terror, my love, for in it lies the true essence of existence."

Akaza

Akaza, the Upper Moon Three, approached the scene with empathetic demeanor. His eyes softened as he observed his boyfriend's restless sleep, a stark contrast to the ferocity he displayed in battle. Kneeling beside the man, he gently brushed a strand of hair from his face. "Hey there, don't worry. I'm here," Akaza spoke in a surprisingly soothing tone, his usual aggression replaced by a comforting warmth. "Nightmares can be tough, but you're tougher. Remember that."

The man sobbed quietly. "I hate it. I can't rest because of those nightmares. I feel so lost."

"We all carry burdens," the demon confessed, "but facing them head-on makes us stronger. You don't have to face them alone."

Seated together, Akaza allowed his partner to snuggle against him, his muscular frame providing a comforting warmth. His normally intense gaze softened, revealing a tenderness that was reserved for moments like these. His fingers traced soothing patterns along the man's back, a silent reassurance that the man was safe in his arms. "Hey," he spoke in a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, a stark contrast to the gentle caress of his touch. "You're safe here. No need to carry the weight of the world right now."

"It's alright to lean on others," he admitted, surprising himself with the admission. "We all need someone to rely on from time to time. So do I, a demon, whose fragility would be the last trait anyone could fathom."

Kokushibo

Kokushibo, the Upper Moon One, approached the situation with an air of detachment. He observed his partner's night terrors with an analytical gaze, as if deciphering a complex puzzle. While his demeanor remained cool, there was a subtle undertone of curiosity in his voice.

"Nightmares, a manifestation of the mind's deepest fears," Kokushibo remarked, his words carrying a wisdom earned through centuries, "One must confront the shadows within to achieve true serenity."

"It's hard to confront them, Kokushibo-sama. It's like being swallowed by some invisible force that no one can fight."

Rather than offering immediate comfort, Kokushibo encouraged introspection. He guided his boyfriend through a mental journey, dissecting the roots of the man's nightmares and addressing the underlying fears. His words, while cryptic, carried a strange sense of reassurance.

"Conquer your demons, and they shall trouble you no more," he declared, his gaze unwavering. Kokushibo's approach might seem cold, but it aimed at empowering his partner to face his fears head-on, emerging stronger from the depths of the night. "Confront the specters haunting your dreams with unwavering resolve. Your mind is a battlefield, and you, the warrior, hold the power to shape its narrative. Close your eyes, not in retreat, but in preparation. In the silence before sleep, let the echoes of your courage drown out the whispers of fear. Your resilience is a beacon that can pierce through the darkest of nights."

[betterworldinitiative]

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This is how it’s done. Read and be inspired.

[the0doreslover]

Friends in the dark | m.r

In the shadowed halls of hogwarts, Mattheo Riddle, the enigmatic son of the feared Dark Lord, found himself grappling with conflicting emotions. The weight of his lineage bore heavily upon him, as did the burden of his own destiny. He was surrounded by whispers of power and conquest, yet a gnawing sense of emptiness gnawed at his heart.

Amidst the darkness, a glimmer of light emerged in the form of Y/N Potter, a witch who possessed a fiery spirit that matched her famous surname. Though they hailed from different worlds, their paths crossed one fateful evening during a clandestine encounter deep within the Forbidden Forest.

"I never thought I'd find anyone else wandering these woods at night." she said.

"Likewise. It's a place of solace for me." he replied

Their first meeting was marked by a sense of curiosity and wariness, an unspoken recognition of each other's struggles. Mattheo, accustomed to manipulation and deceit, found himself surprised by Y/N's genuine concern.

"You're Mattheo Riddle, aren't you?" she asked

“Yes, that's me."

She saw past the name he bore and glimpsed the boy within, trapped between loyalty and the longing for something more.

"You know… you don't have to be defined by your family. You have a choice."

As the moon cast its silvery glow upon the forest floor, Mattheo shared his fears and desires, confessing the internal conflict that tormented him.

"I'm torn between the path I've been born for and the one I secretly yearn for."

y/n in turn then voiced her worries

"Living up to the Potter name isn't easy. Everyone expects greatness from me because of harry."

Their conversations continued in secret, each encounter revealing more layers of their shared vulnerability. Mattheo discovered Y/N's passion for reading as well as poetry.

"You have bravery in you, Y/N. a certain type bravery I wish I could find within myself."

“maybe you just haven’t looked hard enough” the girl said giving him something to think about

Their bond deepened, and they found comfort in each other's presence.

"With you, I feel understood. I've never had that before." the boy voiced

"We're not as different as it seems. We both want something more." she replied

But their connection did not go unnoticed.

"Interesting company you keep, y/n." her friends would often say to her

hogwarts corridors became fraught with danger, and the choices they made could alter everything about their lives.

"We must be careful. Our friendship could have consequences." mattheo said one night before they sat and talked till the sun set.

In the heart of the forest, under the same moon that had witnessed their first meeting, Mattheo and Y/N vowed to support each other, and be each others lifeline.

"No matter what happens, we'll face it together." y/n made him promise one night

"Y/N, you've given me hope. Something I thought I'd lost."

the girl, in turn, found a confidante who understood the complexities of her world.

In the midst of a world torn between light and darkness, Mattheo Riddle and Y/N Potter discovered a rare and precious connection. United by their shared struggles and a shared desire for a different path, they forged a bond that would shape their destinies in ways neither could have anticipated. The love they shared couldn’t be described on paper

[mullermilkshake]

Twelve days of fluffmas

On the sixth day of fluffmas, my true love gave to me...

Yakuza!Sukuna being affentionate.

Day seven

Yakuza!Sukuna x Wife!reader Tags: Yakuza AU, established relationships, acts of service, mentions of starting a family, surprises, affection, babies

Being married to the Yakuza Chairman, there was never much time to be enjoying Christmas. In honesty, you loved it.

Twinkling lights upon a snow capped roof piled with nails and staples to secure the icicle drop of each bulb and how each colour was right where it should be carefully placed with care.

It was the only time you chose drinking chocolate in a little cafe and wore a thick scarf when the snow started to fall. Ryomen headquarters gardens sat so beautifully the next morning after snowfall all night long. The crunch underneath shoes was surreal and thick and crispy to the ears when it was untouched.

A few years now and Christmas isn't so celebrated, the hallways still so bare and gardens still so dark despite the lit lanterns. It was missing something. Something cheerful.

The thing was, Sukuna didn't celebrate it as such. There was never a time for him to do so growing up so it never held anything close to his heart. Not like you.

You grew up with family and traditions at Christmas. He did not.

So you knew brought it up. And there was a knock at your office door.

That was odd. No one besides your husband was permitted to enter. You left your desk and approached the door with a frown, Sukuna never knocked when he emerged from the meeting room, he merely entered.

"What is it-" it was Sukuna.

Stepping back you opened it from a crack to enough to let him in. "You never knock, is the world ending?"

"I'd be kicking it down if the world was ending," his hands were thrown into his pockets, shirt unbuttoned a few. "I came to show you something."

There was something about his stance, his tone of voice though still gruff it sat much softer in his throat. His eyes almost delicate as he watched you think of your next words.

"Alright."

"Get your coat, it's outside," you stopped yourself from opening the door right away and picked up your coat from the rack in the corner.

Outside, in this cold? Sukuna didn't ever like the cold. In fact, he would often moan if it was cold enough to require heating the room up.

Naturally you were intrigued by this gesture alone. Whatever it was sure had to be important enough to warrant all this fuss from him.

He led you to the back door without another word, taking your hand silently and stopping you right before he was to open it.

"Before we step outside, I must be honest with you," he didn't turn to face you, but he still had your hand in his. "My absence has been noted, you don't need to tell me that. But there are some things I want to discuss with you, I just don't know how. So I hope this is a step in the right direction."

While it was true that his meetings were more frequent than usual, it was your own common knowledge that things just seemed to pick up around holidays.

Just because Sukuna was the Chairman, it did not make him exempt from peak times throughout the year.

But for him to go about speaking with you in this way, whatever was on his mind was big.

"Okay, Love."

He opened the door straight out onto the back gardens. Whilst the immediate instinct was to look towards the light lanterns for light, the garden was brighter than usual.

Because there were Christmas lights strewn about the place. They blinked and twinkled just like those lights you thought about on the snow capped roof. Amber and multicoloured pools of light around the lanterns and over hedges and guttering.

It was beautiful.

"I'm aware you enjoy this stuff. And I've been a miserable bastard the past few years with letting more light in," he cleared his throat and mumbled the rest though when you concentrated, you heard it clearly. "You are all the light that I need..."

Still holding his hand kept you grounded, it was a grand gesture that buying the world could not replicate. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

Now Sukuna did many acts of service, mostly in private. This however was the most public display he'd given you since your wedding day.

He looked back at you for the first time, moving a strand of hair from your eyes. "You put up with me, not many people do."

It wasn't necessarily the case of putting up with Sukuna like everybody claimed. You just got on. The attitude that was in stuff of legends you never saw and you were confident that you could tame it if you really had to, but you never needed to.

"I love you, of course I put up with you."

"I can say the same," there was no change in his expression, it was all in his tone of voice that remained softer than ever.

"What are you having trouble discussing with me?"

If you had blinked in that moment, you would have missed the slight exaggeration in his eyes as they widened ever so slightly.

"Well, there's a matter of our marriage," clearing his throat was an obvious sign of how, dare you say it, nervous he was. "I think it's time we move ahead and think of the future."

Your marriage to Sukuna had been going almost six years strong, you weren't quite sure what he meant. "How so?"

"Well, when we're gone and buried, who do we leave all this to?"

"You want to have a baby?" for a moment, your stomach did flips.

Until now, a baby had never ever been mentioned. For a time you were unsure if that was something he wanted. So all this time he had been thinking of how to bring it up and he was stuck on how to do it.

"With you, yes," he nodded and got in a little closer to you. "If you want to that is."

It was entirely your choice.

At no point in your life did you ever think you would be in this life, staring at the Chairman of a Yakuza clan with a wedding band on your finger.

It all just seemed right.

"I could get used to the idea of a baby or two running about the place."

Sukuna leant in and rubbed his nose with yours. Delicately. Lovingly. "Those little brats would own this place in a week. I can already see the trouble they'd cause."

"So we'll try then?"

"See where life takes us." There was no man like Sukuna.

And you doubted there ever would be either.

[mskenway97]

Hello! I have a Transformers question and an idea 👍

First: the autobots symbol. What is the origin? I mean... This is the representation of the first prime or of Primus face? I never didn't understand.

Second: idea/request. What if OP, bayverse movie, partner (romantically or friendship whatever you want) is a blind human female? She's been tortured by decepticons 😨

Thanks 🙌🙌🙌

I find the first question very curious and you have. in fact the logo was created because of this:

the designer who came up with the Autobot emblem used a stylized representation of Prowl's toy head as a source of inspiration (Prowl is the Autobot military strategist). In the world of Marvel Comics, the distinctive red mask is often referred to as the "Autobrand".

According to official legend, the Autobot symbol was created in reference to the face of the Last Autobot, the guardian Primus prepared, before the day when he could no longer restrain his own army. By the way, we cannot fail to mention that the same sign was used as the symbol of the slave brand Quintesson.

And from the second question, I have created a small scenario more related to friendship and partenership:

Darkness, infinite was the only thing, the Decepticons had tortured her in a thousand ways to discover the location of NEST, y/n was a soldier of the first humans closest to the autobots. No y/n opened his mouth to snitch, he wasn't a snitch the wounds on his body were nothing serious until they decided to take his sight…. When the autobots rescued him it was too late, it was irreparable damage. Ratchet did everything he could for y/n….. It was so complicated to do day to day things, to be guided more by touch, sound, to learn differently than reading, writing…. Her day to day life literally changed… She heard a familiar sound, maybe she only saw darkness but that confusing sound was Optimus, since the rescue he kept coming to see her. She felt a little wind in front of her, the noise of the hydraulic presses around, the house of y/n was in a more distant area to be closer to the base in case of emergency and in this case to be able to take better care of her. -Optimus? - she asked as she grabbed a guide stick to carefully exit the house, stumbling at the exit to feel that something metallic had grabbed her.

-You should be more careful," Optimus lectured her a little. And/n chuckled a little as she tried to get a little positioned - You know I always feel like it when you get here. Optimus pulled her a little closer, face to face.

Optimus every time he looked at the dull eye color that y/n had, instead of y/c of eyes that sparkled every time she smiled, that she got angry, those looks of complicity they had in meetings, only to see that when she was rescued, those eyes had lost their essence…. It made him squeeze his other servo and change only his expression of frustration and anger. "If only it had taken less time, if only I had arrived before she was in so much pain…. It's my fault…" Optimus thought but those frantic thoughts were interrupted by smaller hands passing over his face.

-Again thinking about what happened? - said y/n

-I can't help it, you didn't deserve to end up like this, Optimus said in frustration, y/n stroked his faceplate.

-What's done is done… At least I'm alive, if it weren't for you. I would continue with the experiments. You saved my life

-But you paid a high price for that," said Optimus as he pulled her closer to his chassis. Y/n leaned in as she heard the pulse of his spark - It wasn't your fault…. Even if you can't see, you see only this eternal darkness…. Your mere presence brings me light among the shadows," said Y/n leaving Optimus surprised as he pulled her closer to him. They stayed like that for a while, until Optimus decided to help her with her holoform exercises. Maybe she lost her sight… but he swore by Primus that he would never ever leave her side. He would be her light and her guide for the rest of her life.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Chance 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents’ house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother’s Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The next day, you acquiesce to your mother’s whims. There was rarely a time when you could deny her and the times you did, had her often reminding you of your ‘rebellious’ teenage years. You don’t bother to mention that wearing black and not wanting to hold her hand in public wasn’t much of a rebellion.

You just have to remember that this isn’t about you. Tandi doesn’t yet know the storm she’s marrying into. You’ll let her have her grace period before it truly sets in. It could be seconds, it could be months, but eventually, your mother will turn the screw.

You walk behind the pair through the crowded rows of the farmer’s market. They almost seem to forget you but that doesn’t bother you. You prefer it.

They stop at the soap booth and the battle of scent threatens to trigger a migraine. You hold your breath until Tandi finishes her purchase; some body scrub and a piece of soap that looks like a fruit parfait. Your mother opts for her own collection of cinnamon heart soap bars. You wonder where she’ll hide them as she only ever allowed white items in the bathroom; down to the soap and the shampoo.

“Do you have friends coming for the party then?” Your mother asks as they stroll along.

“Uh, yes, hopefully they can make it,” Tandi answers, “work and all that.”

“Of course, that’s understandable but it’s a very important event,” your mother chirps back, “do you have something to wear? You would look marvelous in rose.”

“I have some options,” your brother’s fiancee flick her hair back. “I was thinking it might be nice to do a brunch, rather than a dinner.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. And of course,” your mother pauses, peering back over her shoulder as she recalls your mournful existence, “we can help.”

“That’s so sweet,” Tandi purrs.

“Well, you know, we haven’t much going on.”

You frown. It’s an obvious jab at your current predicament. It isn’t as if you haven’t been trying. You filled every open job posting you can find and haven’t heard back from a single one. Yet, your mother would never believe you to be helpless, just lazy.

“I’m going to find the bathroom,” you mutter but neither seems to hear or care.

You break away from them and delve into the crowd. You feel desolate in the roiling crowd. You don’t miss Ransom, or Hugh, or whatever he wanted you to call him that day, you just miss having someone else. Someone by your side to face the outside world. 

He never really was that, was he? You just convinced yourself he was. He settled for you and you thought that was good enough. You made yourself believe you were good enough.

You find the bathrooms and hide inside. You don’t need to go, you just need to get your shit together. You take out your phone and put on your rationed data so you can check your emails. Junk, junk, junk… ‘Invitation to Interview’. Huh.

You quickly scroll and scan the email, not wanting to waste the data. It’s nothing special, nothing as glorious as your previous job. It’s a customer service role at the local travel planner, a vibrant business among the burgeoning retirement community. It’ll have to do.

You flip the switch to disconnect from the network and emerge to wash your hands. You make your way back into the market and search among the tides. You wander in circles until you find the duo. They sit at the cafe bar in the corner, drinks in front of them, and a set of half-eaten scones. They didn’t wait for you or even think to grab you something.

You shrug it off. You think you might have been wrong. Again. Your mother isn’t going to bulldoze this daughter, no, Tandi is going to be the daughter she never had. Jaydon always was her favourite; the infallible baby boy.

💋

You accept the invitation. The pay is barely above minimum wage and the role is tedious but it’s all you’ve got. You don’t tell your parents, not wanting to disappoint them. It would be better to surprise them with good news, not let them down with another failure.

You find the nicest skirt you could salvage in your hasty retreat from the city. You sneak out through the back as the rest of the house delights in their perfect fairy tale. You’d rather have a stuffy interview than to bear another day of fake smiling and dulled blades aimed at your throat.

The agency isn’t very far. The bus takes you to the core of the town and your heels click down the half-block to the storefront painted with palm trees and beach umbrellas. You peek inside before you enter and check the information on your phone just to be sure. You’re early.

A woman named Brenda greets you and tells you to wait in the seats meant for clients. You fidget as the clock ticks in the quiet office until she finishes with the old couple at her desk in the tight cubicle. They leave, happy, and she invites you back.

It isn’t anything beyond the usual; what will you bring to this job? When’s a time you had to be spontaneous? How would you handle a disgruntled customer? You recite the acceptable answers and at the end, she offers you the job. You don’t think it’s because you’re anything exceptional but judging by the two-hundred days the posting’s been up, there hasn’t been much interest. You both are ready to take the first thing that comes along.

She sends you off with a smile and you try not to let your fake one fall before you’re out of the office. Out of the sight of the windows, you let your shoulders drop and sigh. It’s good news, you got a job, but somehow you think your parents will find a damper. ‘How much does it pay? What do you do? Oh, that’s a starter job.’

Well, dad, mom, I am starting over. I fucked up. I built nothing but a disaster.

You round the corner and stumble as suddenly you hit a wall you don’t expect. You stagger until you’re caught by firm hands around your upper arms. You gulp and your eyes round as they meet another pair, blue and bold. Jonathan grins as he issues an apology and your own tumbles off your tongue.

“I wasn’t… looking,” you murmur.

“Quite alright,” his hands linger on your arms and you wriggle. “Neither was I.”

He laughs at himself and you look down at his hold on you. He squeezes before he lets go and drops his hands to his side. He tucks them into his pockets. He’s dressed effortlessly in a pair of gray slacks and powder blue pullover.

“Special occasion?” He wonders as he looks you up and down.

You peek at your skirt. It’s nothing special. Pinstripe, black, pencil cut. It doesn’t fit you the way it used to. You think Ransom noticed that too…

“Job interview,” you shrug.

“Oh, exciting. So when do you hear back?”

You rub your neck and sway. He’s just being nice. He’s always been polite, on the outside, but you saw the antics he got up to with Jaydon. He always had that charming grin for your mother but never hesitated to cause chaos with your menace of a brother.

“You don’t have to ask. Really. It’s not a big deal.”

“Mm, well, what if I genuinely want to know?” 

There he is, that oppositional twerp. You blow out between your lips and smile, “I got the job. It’s at the travel agency so… big whoop.”

“Big whoop indeed,” he remarks, “I’d say we should celebrate with a drink but I’d also say you sound like you need one. Desperately.”

You meet his eyes again. You squint. Was he always this handsome? Or is that another trick of time? You pack on some love handles and you look chronically tired, but his lines only refine him, his age becomes him.

“That’s nice but I should head home.”

“Why? So you can listen to Jay brag about his convertible? Even I’m over that. He’d do better with something economic but he always knows best, doesn’t he?”

You scoff, “wow, sounds like you had quite the reunion.”

“Well, time changes us all,” he says, “but you always were more fun to drink with.”