#this is where the endeavour redemption completely lost me

[s0fter-sin]

“maybe if i, an 8yr old, managed to talk sense into my groomed and deeply traumatised 13yr old brother, maybe he wouldn’t have accidentally almost killed himself and become a villain” and no one in that room disagreed with him??

[bibibbon]

MHA chapter 417 (rant)

What in the time travel is this?!?! Why is it always time travel I swear this could of been solved without it and you're basically telling me that shigaraki is so evil that yes we need to go back in time and change fate itself so nothing happens and somehow crack the case that tenko is stuck in and completely differentiate tenko and shigaraki

Why are we just stuck in the past?!?! This overlaps with my first point but why are we in the past again it seriously makes no sense. What happend to the fight?!?! What is Izuku's body doing now what is shigarakis body doing now?!?!? What happend to the whole they're memories are becoming one because right now all Iam seeing is shigarakis memories and none of izukus this feels like shigaraki just trauma dumping and showing Izuku all this stuff he went through because Izuku somehow needs to understand shigaraki like it isn't shigaraki who doesn't understand Izuku and izuku has more understanding than shigaraki does. Plus what was the thing about them becoming one person when that didn't happen at all?!?!

Did Izuku seriously lose all of his quirks?!?! So izuku just lost all his quirks except of float shimura's quirk of course cos she just needed to be there doing nothing but apologising for her failures and somehow breaking a barrier of tine space jumbo stuff to basically did this time traveling thing and woah does this suck poor izuku went through absolute living hell to get this Quirk, train with it and fight with it just to lose it and lose all his hope and dreams in the process. The ending where he becomes some bimbo stuck raising Tenko is ever so closer and closer and I absolutely hate it also I seriously hate that we didn't get a farewell or anything that happend so quick and how did it impact shigaraki?!?!? It doesn't look like he was impacted and then shimura is only there because of the annoying power of rejection somehow somehow a power like this exists because willpower or something

Where did stain, redestro and overhaul come from ?!?! Why was this there like seriously what was this for?!? Was this to be like oh izuku are you ready for changing future time travel stuff balh blah blah and we are just spirits here to haunt you before making this important decision?!?!? Also if izuku broke the barrier and almost got run over by a truck then how the actual hell did those three come into that space at the same time isn't this messing with the past future and present typa of thing because to me it seriously makes no sense how they're there?!?!

The shimura family left a bad taste in my mouth. Bruh the shimura family confrontation went down the bin for real tho. Like nothing happens except kotaro hits his child, nana is crying and that's it nothing else. What happend in between did nao come and do what she did last time did shimura and kotaro see eachother or was it just a transfer thing to Tenko and some and how is it that izuku has to witness death or is probably gonna die next chapter because of decay. Remember izuku has no quirks he is freshly quirkless again and the others can see him but haven't said anything?!?! This was seriously horrible like are we gonna get a kotaro redemption or something because he definitely is better built up for one than endeavour ever was but nope he will slap child on face get hated done and over maybe he will realise his wrongs probably not. Also are you telling me that no one did anything about the random kid with the UA uniform in their house like?!?! What did Hana and nao do?!?! Why does the corgi have to die again?!?!?? BLAMING NANA FOR SOMETHING THAT SHE Could CONTROL AND MAKING HER SEEM LIKE THE REASON KOTARO BECAME AN ABUSER WAS BECAUSE SHE WAS A BAD MOTHER WHEN THATS NOT THE TRUTH IS HORRENDOUS ABSLOUTELY AND UTTERLY RIDICULOUS

Dark deku really?!?!?! Was this what momo was talking about like Iam so confused is this just supposed to be a little mental challenge obstacle for izuku because we know hori didn't let him face or develop from his previous mental issues that were caused by his bullies and especially bakugo so is he finally semi acknowledging fans that talk about this and was like look he has to confront himself bs and the confrontation doesn't last long at all. Like Armin from aot has better confrontation with himself then this. Or is this some thing where izuku becomes dark due to him and shigarakis memories becoming one or something

@doodlegirl1998 pointed out that this manga panel ☝️ looks like kurogiri dark deku and I can't stop thinking about it and how bad this is 😭. Izuku didn't even get to acknowledge anything and kurogiri is legit a dark version of oboro 💀💀

[dashielldeveron]

1000000% agree with you about your takes on the mha ending, it sits so wrong with me that toga, touya and tenko don’t get to be redeemed but don’t get to even survive??? Like they victims of abuse stemming bc of hero society and they don’t even get to live in the ‘new’ ‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’changed’’’’’’’’’’’’’’ world LMAO that’s fucked. ESPECIALLY WHEN NO 1 ABUSER ENDEAVOUR GETS TO NOT ONLY LIVE BUT HAVE THE REDEMPTION ARC??? and to a lesser extent overhaul too??? Like ik he isn’t redeemed in anyway but he gets to live?? The message is soooo depressing when the two most prominent abuse figures get to live but the victims aren’t even worthy of a second chance. This is why we have fanworks ig.

( also this is completely unrelated but who do you think had the best pro hero redesign.for me I think kaminari looks very. nice. and bkgs bomb tassel hair tie things r cute. Also idk why hori felt the need to do a aizawa shinsou hair transplant 😭😭😭😭 like

shinsou: where is mr aizawa???

mic: who do u think gave you the hair….)

listen,.,..,i can excuse murder (touya), but i draw the line at child abuse (endeavor) lol. i hadn't even been thinking about overhaul!!! yeah, why does he get to live when, out of the the villains besides AFO, he's the one with the worst intentions?? why give us a found family if they're gonna be torn apart forever?? sigh. how would you have approached the endeavour and overhaul stuff??

at this point, i kind of hope we all stay in collective denial and keep our fandom standard of, like, baku/todo/deku as the top three heroes, complete with OFA. it's not that i'm mad deku lost OFA; that could make sense narratively, but it's that he gets iron man-ed up that pisses me off. it's like a retraction that being quirkless is fine, since deku needs that power to hang out with his friends. sigh. sigh. sigh.

well! i'm finally glad yaoyorozu got fabric to cover her boobs. she deserves it. i liked the flashes of jirou, eri, and sero that we got. and this is me projecting, but a lot of them having long hair down while they fight seems impractical. i know hair growth/cutting is a primary way to show time has passed, but i especially think mina could have trouble with her longer hair--looks cool but might get in the way of her acid.

and i will say that i much prefer aizawa's and shinsou's old hairstyles. and lololol kirishima looks like he's drawn in a completely different manga with how detailed and buff he looks; good for him. i need to yank bakugou's explosion tassel things i need to bite them grrr grr bite bite bite definitely not the design i was expecting but definitely interesting!!!! and that closeup panel we got of shouto.... 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 what a h*nds*me man. despite the weird storytelling choices lately, the art remains very, very beautiful. hori is very good at drawing interesting designs and beautiful people, and there must be an odd pressure to draw really well when your whole cast is hot. so, at least the art hasn't fallen off.

i hope we can all keep making fun art even though the series has been strange at the end!!! thanks for your thoughts; i need to hear everyone's take on this bizarre turn of events

[notlycheesden]

Rearview Mirror

Heyyo ✌🏻 this is my first written piece for Endeavor , as a gift for my friend @kogo for the evil exchange. so I hope you like it my dude 👍🏻. A piece I will def be coming back to write more for sure.

⤍ Endeavour x reader

⤍ 3.6k

⤍ TW.incest, TW.dubcon, TW.father/daughter

⤍ Summary:

Enji was trying to be a better father, a better man.

And you never lied to him.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

Everything was always red between the both of you.

It's past four when his phone rings.

He was awake. even on his day off -those becoming more frequent now- years of routine were still strong. His body alert and aware way before the break of dawn for hours of training before patrol, and later to go to his own agency, the literal empire that wouldn't run itself.

He was pretending to be asleep, unmovable laying on his stomach, face buried on his pillow. Deep breaths in and out in a rhythmic pattern. His massive frame takes most of his king-size bed that for more than a decade he slept right in the middle, no reason to let the right side of it unoccupied.

It was almost meditation-like. There in the quiet and calm of his bedroom between his sheets, he could organize -or at least try- his thoughts. A time in his day where he gets lost in self-reflection. The things he would have to do that day, what work in his agency he would have to supervise, and even stubbornly he would do a little steaming out, analyzing his “actions and emotions”, passing commentary from the resident agency therapist threw his way.

“A strict but good man, if not for some, mishaps, from your intense and fiery nature.” was his professional opinion about Endeavor. The man really lived to throw things his way.

It used to help calm his turbulent mind. But lately there was nothing in his head but turmoil.

It was something he would do until 6 AM, when he couldn't take any longer and had to get up, body and muscles aching from staying in bed for too long, the sun already rising on the horizon, painting the sky with yellows, pinks, and reds.

The silence of his room is broken by the ring of his phone. Instead of the familiar tone of the morning alarm, it was his normal ringtone. When he opens his eyes, the room was not bright as he expects, still shrouded by darkness. Endeavor sits on his bed at once, alert.

Getting it from the bedside table quickly, his posture falls when he catches the time and the already saved contact of who was calling him: Natsuo.

Enji picks up, but before he could question the call, the time, or even say hello, Natsuo speaks, voice grave and serious.

“You need to pick up your daughter right now.”

It’s a punch to the gut. One that makes all the air from his lungs escape at once. In a second, he feels like he is thrown into a rollercoaster.

The only thing he can muster in his shock is a guttural and deep bark of incredulity “What?”

Natsuo cuts Enji off immediately. His tone triggering him into snapping, memories hushing in -not the time for this- “She just called. She was a crying mess, begged me to come for her but I live two hours away-Shouto is on patrol and not picking up and Fuyumi is with her fiance's family at the onsen-”

Enji inhales sharply. Dread takes hold of him while he can't even see straight with the sudden rush of adrenaline, sirens blasting off in his head.

“She was supposed to be with fuyumi at the onsen.” His voice echoes back at him in his bedroom walls, he doesn't realize he is shouting.

“Look, this is really not the time. She has no money and her phone’s dead. I was able to get her to tell me an address before the call dropped. she's all alone there. Are you gonna pick her up?”

Natsuo calms his own breaths now after snapping and shouting back, and he can hear shuffling noises on his father’s side of the line. The older man was up in a second, not really seeing anything, rushing through his stuff picking his keys and wallet. He hates the way his father could make him snap so easily.

Enji was completely distraught.“She said she was going to be with fuyumi…” He mutters under his breath while running through the corridors, even forgetting the phone by his ear, his son still on the line.

But Natsuo hates even more the blatant difference in the way his father treated all of them and you in comparison. Always. Like he could fix his mistakes. Hide his sins.

“Well. Think your little princess lied to you old man.”

Enji didn't even register the venom in his son's words, nor when he hangs up on him.

He’s out of the house in a blink. He tries not to rip the door out of its hinges on his way out.

——

He drives fast, almost no other car in the streets making it easier to speed up in his nervous state. The GPS voice droning about the directions, a forty-minute drive that he would make in twenty.

you said you were going to spend the weekend with your sister.

You lied to him.

Enji’s heart hammers in his chest and his flames burst multiple times on his face out of control. His grip on the wheel tightens to ground his shaking hands, his jaw set with such force that he could feel a headache already forming.

Thoughts were flying through his mind a mile a second. Where are you? What happened to you? Who were you with? Were you safe? Why were you crying?

Why did you lie to him?

It was like his heart was being squeezed by dread and being broken at the same time.

You were his youngest. After he realized what he did to his children as a father, he tried his best to do better; connect, communicate, but he was emotionally and socially stunted -Thanks doc.- and by the time he tried to reach out, it was just a little too late.

Fuyumi was the pillar of the household, replacing their mother too much young and having to fit in a mould not meant to be hers, barely holding the treads of the family and house together. Natsuo was out of the front door as soon as he finished high school and got into med school, choosing to live in the dorms and work part-time rather than stay at the manor. Shoto was another history in itself.

And there was you, a couple of years younger than your now up-in-the-ranks pro hero brother, at the time just a pipsqueak. Too young to remember Rei, remember the worst of Endeavor.

And when he tried to connect, you were there. As if just waiting. Wanting your father to look at you. Frail and innocent and just in want of care, of attention, of love. You welcomed him into your life with open arms and heart.

Enji did try to make it right by you. And for some time things were progressing, even his other children were starting to turn their heads around his direction.

Until Touya’s incident.

The media cracked down on him and his family with a vengeance, almost nothing was left unturned or whole.

Natsuo was the first to cut ties. Shouto threw himself into his hero work, completely closing himself off. Even Fuyumi decided that she was done, took the next step, and went to live with her now fiance, completely ignoring whatever Enji tried to shout about costumes or honor.

Then it was just the two of you.

He tried to be a good father.

He was a quiet man in his private life, strict and with a violent nature, but he reached out for outside help to make it right. An older and trustworthy housekeeper to not chain his daughter down at the manor, guidance from therapist to help him become a better father, a better man, anything to do right this time.

Call it atonement, call it his redemption, call it hypocrisy, he didn't care.

He only cares that at the end of the day, you were there at his side, happy.

This morning he saw the note on the fridge.

Going to onee-san family trip,

Be back on Sunday.

You never had lied to him before.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

——-

The music blasting through the night tipped him off even before his car's GPS tells him he arrived at the destined location.

He parks way down the street and assesses the place inside the darkness of his car.

Enji’s way out of the city now and inside the industrial district, the building seems old and falling to pieces, people are lingering all around the street, but it’s thicker there. At surface level the building was empty, but the music was definitely coming from there.

He dreads the worst.

Getting out of the car still in his sleeping sweatpants and tee, he throws the hood of his workout jacket over his hair to conceal himself. He’s going for discretion, get you and get out, no need to make this a public affair. Not with this, not with you, not right now.

He searches around but still can't find you. Half an hour has passed since Natsuo called. He's in a frenzy. Endeavor forces himself to calm down and think.

His son didn't mention music. He looks far into the street and he can see the entrance of an alleyway, he hushes there.

His stomach tied in knots when he sees in the dark your small figure crouched down beside a dumpster. your shoulders ate shaking with silent sobs holding your dead phone for dear life, trying to make yourself smaller than you already were, head down.

Enji barks your name and your head snaps to the entrance of the alleyway in shock, your body trembling and fat tears running down your smudged makeup.

“Daddy!”

In a second you were up and running, throwing your body against him and hugging his middle. He doesn't know what to do first, but he opts for following his instincts. Enji hugs your shaking form, shushing you lightly while petting your head. He doesn't know if it's him or you who's shaking more.

He doesn't remember how, but he manages to walk both of you to his car without being seen, his hulking form covering your smaller one.

He's shaking. When Enji puts you in the passenger seat and the car lights momentarily shine everything in an amber glow, rage fills his chest. You are in a dress he has never seen before, he knows it was not yours. He would never allow a thing like that or let you use it in public. Your makeup that before being ruined by your smudging and crying, was heavy and meant to seduce.

He closes your door and gets in the car.

He's shaking.

——

Enji can only control himself enough to not rip the wheel or step on the gas right through the flooring for only three blocks. and thank the gods again for the hour, because he could not quite see the streets in front of him. If they weren't deserted while he drives double the velocity permitted, it would be likely that the fears of his family being again under the cruel and ravenous judgment of the public eye would become reality, although for a completely different reason from the ones he has been dreading until this point.

When he reaches the fourth block, he makes a sudden stop, turning and parking harshly with the front of the car almost all the way over the curb, the tires skidding loudly into the quiet of the night and scaring you out of your still shell shock state. your small sniffles stop when you let out a muted yelp of surprise.

Enji quickly pries his hands that have a death grip on the wheel and smash the roof of the car to turn the lights on in such a way that later he’s impressed he didn't send the entire ceiling flying. As fast as he did that and the darkness of the car is now cast in warm gold, his hands are on your small frame like a striking snake, a big calloused one gripping your face between meaty fingers, squeezing your wet cheeks and the other one in your far shoulder, turning you in his direction with a barely controlled yank. Enji wasn't sure if the shaking was coming from your body or his.

He's frantic, hectic, eyes going up and down your body trying to find anything, something. “Are you hurt? tell me,” His voice is harsh, too loud into the small space. You jump startled, but his grip locks you in place, he doesn't notice.

Why did you come to a party? Why are you dressed like this? Why did you do this?

“Are you?? Someone did something? Gave you something, touched you?” He barks again louder, bending and twisting to be in your face now, eyes scanning all over your body. But again and again, they would be drawn to the too short hem of your dress, from your ruined tearstained makeup and down again to your soft and creamy thighs, trying to find a mark, a scratch, a stain. Anything, something.

“Fucking answer me!”

“Dad please!”

Enji lets you go as if you just slap him in the face. He blinks.

You are shaking. Looking at him in fear, silent tears running down your cheeks. Your jaw is set as you try to hold your whimpers back, his fingers make red marks bloom on your face and arm under his digits.

Memories come back rushing. Phantoms scourging in blue flames.

He releases you as if you burn him.

His hands hover in place, and he doesn't dare to move, still crowding you. Both of you staring at each other in fear and confusion as if something would break.

He slowly backs away, and you keep still. He turns the light off and stares at the road.

Enji couldn't take more things between both of you breaking.

He takes a deep breath. Starts the car again to drive back home.

——

Friday nights are your nights.

Enji doesn't really remember when it started. But he knows it wasn't something that was spoken of or agreed beforehand. It happened once, then twice, then his job got in the way, then thrice, and when he noticed, it was a routine between him and his daughter.

Like most things between both of you, it just… fell into place. And it just felt right.

Endeavor would arrange his schedule in a way so that his Fridays would be empty, any emergency at the agency could be easily solved that way, patrols and hero work set on the weekends so he could come home at a sensible hour, just by dinnertime.

He would be just taking his blazer and shoes off at the entrance when Enji would hear your running steps from the kitchen, your pinky apron-clad figure hushing to meet him with a bright smile, eyes shining.

you would get a hold of his tie and gently tug down for him to bend at the waist to your level, your arms were thrown in a warm hug on his neck and a sweet and lengthy kiss on his cheek after he steps through the threshold. you would giggle against his face from the tickles you got from his stubble while warmly welcoming him, the food still hot on the table.

It was one of your multiple habits together, just the two of you. And it felt right.

It was routine. And it felt so domestic, warm and right.

Friday nights are your nights. After he gets home, you guys have dinner, something you cooked by yourself, sending the older housemaid away earlier.

Sometimes it is a new recipe, sometimes something you already tried before. But it's always good, and when Enji compliments your cooking skills and how much he enjoys it, your cheeks blush red. You daintly try to hide your smile as you thank him, bashful behavior so alluring even when he knows is just a little act, playing coy. There's warmth in his chest.

The lights in the dining room cast everything in this whimsical warm glow and maybe it's the beer, but Enji thinks it reflects lovely on you and the color of your blouse today. He says so.

“Looking so pretty tonight, princess.”

The red on your cheeks grow stronger. From across the table, he hides his smirk behind his can at seeing how you fidget in place, trying to contain your coquettish smile while biting your plush bottom lip. The warmth spreads lower.

Only later it dawns on him. Enji was flirting with his own daughter. And it was a habit.

It was routine.

Enji is sprawled on the big sofa comfortably, already showered and in his sleeping clothes after dinner, the second movie of the night halfway through.

It was a period drama and he tries to pay attention to the main points for your quiz about it the next day, but he was mostly checked out, lulled by the comfy dark of the living room, the buzz of the beers he drank, sleep and your warm body draped over his.

He doesn't really remember when it started, but he knows it was gradually. One day in your Friday movie nights, he notices you were glued on his side, and on the next one you had an arm draped over his torso while both of you were laying on the reclining couch, and since then, you were always over him, arms and thighs and breasts glued to his body, but most of the time cutely laying on his chest.

That night was no different. You are laying on his broad chest, using your arm as leverage to look down and back at the tv in front of the sofa, and for you to not slip he has one big palm over your waist and the other in a secure hook on the slope of your knee, propping your bent leg higher across his stomach. Your breathing matches his, and if not by your little grunts and noises of surprise, the redhead would have thought you had fallen asleep on him. It would not be the first time.

The clothes you are using are small and had hiked up a long time ago, a loose tank top and booty shorts, both of them old and worn out, sleep clothes.

From where he was, he could see all your body over his. From the crown of your head to the slope of your waist as it dipped under his scarred hand. His gaze follows the curve of your thigh draped over his waist to the fat of your ass pointing high. He muses in a daze that he could see the inside of your tank top, the soft swell of a breast making an appearance. He leers.

You move a little, and this time, he can make out the shade of a nipple. It’s pert and small and pretty, and blood rushes to his clothed cock, but is late, and he's tired and buzzed out. It doesn’t connect in his mind.

You move. you are getting yourself higher on his chest. Enji feels small hands wandering under his shirt. Presses of lips on his neck. Wet kisses on the stubble on his jaw.

The soft touches pull him deeper. There's a young and wanton body over his. It’s been so long since he truly touched another, let himself be touched. Smooth lips and an uncertain tongue were kissing him, and he wants to devour them. It’s hot and burns and makes his insides coil, his cock hard and heavy inside his pants. A warm slit humping it.

Could have been the tiredness, the beer, the comfort of the situation, anything really.

Enji kisses you like a man starved. Head moving and ravaging your much smaller mouth with his tongue. His hand yanks your tank top down exposing your breasts, and now he’s pulling and pinching the sweet nipples in a way that makes you moan against his tongue with a voice he couldn't recognize.

His other hand was down at your ass, guiding your movements back and forth on his erection with vigor, the friction against your slit makes you weak, but he keeps you moving, his calloused hand encompassing most of your behind. At each needy thrust his fingers would slide down between the cleft of your ass more and more.

His meaty fingers push the bottons of your shorts aside with a flick of his wrist, and now he's touching directly your puffy lips that are messy and wet all over. Enji growls in your mouth as you moan louder when he starts playing with your pussy, a pitched whine as he flicks your clit up and down, a strong hold on your breast.

A loud bang from the TV is what snaps him back to reality.

It was his daughter.

His daughter was over him. It was his daughter that was humping his cock, that he was sucking her small tongue and tweaking her nipples until he made her squeal.

He jumps to his feet and throws you across the couch.

Different from him, you look wide awake. Flushed face and startled eyes stares up at him, exposed breasts still heaving. Nipples rosy and hard. Between your legs, a glistening trail of where his fingers dragged when he ripped them off of you. Your shorts are drenched.

There's a moment of silence.

Enji snaps. He sprints to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room.

He locks his door, drops to the floor, and whips his hard and heavy cock out. in three pumps, thick ropes of cum cover his hand and clothed middle.

Taking big gulps of air trying to calm his breathing, his eyes glancing everywhere in a panic state, he looks down, and spot the wet patch on his clothed thigh. Yours juices that leaked on him. Its still in his other hand, fingers wet.

Enji wants to cry.

He tried to be a good father.

He ruined it again.

[pidgebeifong]

atla characters as bnha characters (part 2)

Post-redemption arc Zuko (aka thank-god-ur-not-bald-anymore) as Todoroki Shouto

if you didn’t see this one coming idk what to tell you

Daddy Issues™

emotionally scarring burn on left eye inflicted by a parent

Co-Presidents of the Shitty Dads Club

gorgeous, sweet, out of ur league

have to be at least friendship level 3 to unlock Mysterious Tragic Backstory

fire powers that they wouldn’t use/lost the ability to use for a while

hot (both literally and figuratively)

the favourites of their fandoms

Socially Awkward™

both have a sweet & kind friend who’s partly the reason they’re not angsty and emo anymore, everyone say thank you midoriya for giving us the todoroki we have today (give me platonic!zukaang/tododeku or give me death)

started out friendless and now they have like six bffs

‘farther is for physical distance, further is for metaphorical distance, and father is for emotional distance’

Pre-redemption arc Zuko (aka what-the-fuck-is-that-ponytail) as Bakugou Katsuki

weird hair

Angery Bois™

im sorry they both look like really angry pomeranians i can’t take them seriously

‘you wanna go?! you wanna fuckin go?!’ tell me that isn’t the entirety of bakugou’s dialogue summed up in two sentences

‘let me see what you have’ ‘A KNIFE’ ‘NO’

torments the hell out of peace-loving main protagonist & hunts them down

both have had their lives saved (kinda? at least deku tried) by the main protagonist when they were still assholes

have father figures (kinda? does all might count?) who just want them to stop being fucking assholes and make the right decisions for once but do these dumbasses listen? no

have kidnapped someone/been the one who got kidnapped

100% would recommend anger management therapy. pls for the love of god sort out ur deep-rooted issues

repressed gays

zuko gets a pass bc of his emo tragic backstory but honestly baku was such a jerk to deku in szn 1 for literally no reason. fuck you bakugou

Azula as Dabi (aka Todoroki Touya, we all know it’s true at this point)

yes i have a special place in my heart for villains with blue fire and tragic backstories, what about it

figuratively and literally hotter than their siblings (don’t @ me y’all know it’s true)

the ‘evil’ sibling one of whom was actually just misguided and whose redemption arc i’m still waiting for, but i’m not going to elaborate on that bc the way the atla writers handled azula just makes me mad & I’ll end up talking forever about it

fathers majorly fucked them up (ozai was abusive to azula, fight me)

kinda psycho

god if dabi really does turn out to be a todoroki and still doesn’t get a redemption arc i am suing. my heart cannot take this pain again

their most popular ships are both gay with a person who’s the complete opposite of them and have/will inevitably betray them in the end (tyzula, hot wings. manga readers know what i’m talking about but i don’t think dabi/hawks is too popular a ship with anime-only fans yet)

Ty Lee as Ashido Mina

pink!!! pinkity pink pink

bubbly and fun, peppy attitudes

‘be gay do crimes’

actually incredibly dangerous and formidable even though they don’t really look like it (can you imagine fighting someone who can literally paralyze your entire body with a few punches? or shoot honest-to-god acid at you? we stan two (2) queens)

really flexible and good at sports (ty lee’s acrobatics, mina’s hip hop dancing)

both part of iconic squads (ozai’s angels, the bakusquad)

both their squads have a kinda mean leader (azula, bakugou)

don’t really take criticisms too harshly and always brush off mean comments by azula or bakugou with a smile

yeah i don’t really have a lot to say about them bc they don’t have a lot of screen time (we were robbed) but they’re cool

Mai as Aizawa-Sensei

110% done with ur shit

Did Not Sign Up For This

the OG emos

*drives up to mcdonalds with ten kids in the backseat clamouring for fries, orders one (1) black coffee and leaves*

every day their will to live dies a little more

neither of them have bending/powers that are useful in combat so they’ve both learnt to be really good at fighting the traditional way, without bending or quirks

just let them sleep ffs

kinda hot when they’re fighting

dragged into dangerous situations by the main characters when they just want to mind their own business and take a nap

‘wake me up (wake me up inside)’

Uncle Iroh as All Might

father figures

cheerful, jovial, always there to save the day

very powerful & strong

kinda old

both have antagonistic relationships with the ‘abusive fathers in power’ in each of their respective series

you probably can’t tell but i really don’t like iroh (even tho i adore all might) so it’s kind of hard to find good stuff to say about him, but i’m trying

give good advice that’s useless anyway bc the protagonists literally never follow it

both adopt a young boy who isn’t actually their kid but whom they have a closer relationship with than the boy’s actual dad has with the boy

train that young boy to become their successor

Fire Lord Ozai as Endeavour (aka human pieces of shit)

FUUUUUUCCCCKKK YOOOUUUU

burn in hell

apologise to your fucking kids

why was end*avour given a redemption arc in the manga that’s just as bad as h*ggar getting that stupid fucking redemption arc in voltron, makes absolutely zero (0) sense

good at one (1) thing and it’s giving their kids emotional trauma that they’ll have to carry around for the rest of their lives

have stupid beards and moustaches that makes them look like paedophiles

being indirectly/directly responsible for burns on their sons’ left eyes

hold on a sec i’ll be right back just give me a moment, i gotta go punt these dickheads into the mfing sun

if they were dying of hunger and i had a feast in front of me, i’d tell my servants to burn the leftovers

Princess Ursa as Todoroki Rei

both forced into marriages because of their bloodline/powers that would make their future kids strong

had abusive husbands who were very powerful and feared

scarred their kids (literally)

disappeared from the household while their kids were still young due to an incident where they killed/harmed a family member (ursa poisoned fire lord azulon, rei scalded shouto’s eye)

had a child/children who was/were disregarded in favour of the child who was favoured bc of their abnormally strong powers

unintentionally abusive (ursa fucked azula up bad, don’t @ me)

idk what else to say we got like two and a half seconds of screentime in total for each of them

Bonus:

Emo Zuko (like even more than normal) as Tokoyami Fumikage

professional Edgelords™ such darkness

so drama

very emo

Sparky Sparky Boom Man as Bakugou Katsuki (aka sparky sparky boom boi)

boom boom time to die

[theprojectatedensgate]

63. “You never learnt to think did you?” Joseph and John

This is quite sad so be warned!

John’s fist collided with the wall with an almighty bang, chunks of cream coloured drywall and wood splintering out around him. Joseph watched after him calmly, not un used to seeing his little brothers episodes, his temper wasn’t stable at the best of times. But this was different, John had succumbed to his Sin and Joseph had to save him.

“You have to love them, John. Do not let your sin prevent that.”

But how could he? How could the man who was forced to suffer and confess for his sins, the man who’s life sunk into a pit of drugs and lasciviousness, how could the man who was abused by society, twisting him into the sadistic tormentor he was today, love them?

The Resistance was winning. Many of the outposts in the Holland Valley shanghaied by the Deputy and their companions, destroying Eden’s Gate property. They had been the bane of the Baptist’s existence, spreading their sin like a cancer, toxic and resilient, the very air around them became polluted with their doubt. They were taking their homes, supplies, people, undoing all the endeavours of the Seed Family and worst of all? Making John Seed look a fool.

So when the bliss bullet punctured their flesh, when they awoke with water burning their lungs, when they were marched towards John like a successful hunt, he couldn’t help but give into his sin. His hold firm as he thrust them back into the river, their limbs thrashing hard against his grip, he watched them with  reverence as they struggled, remaining steadfast as they suffocated against him, their body slowly tiring. He tugged them to the surface, taking in their spluttering and soaked expression, red with the constriction of water. John knew it was a sin, such feelings are perverse and rife with depravity, but God, did it bring immense satisfaction, to watch them suffer. John bared his teeth, his blunt nails cutting crescents into the Deputy’s arms, clenching his hands around them he moved to shove them back into the darkness of the river, a voice called out to him, one that would make him freeze where he stood.

The Father had told him then, his actions mocked the very cleansing that was held sacred by the Baptist, by all of the flock. He would have to love them,  he would bring them to atonement or face the closed shut gates of Eden. Bitterness crept through John’s mind, the Deputy who had been murdering their brothers and sisters, culling them like they were lambs for slaughter, would reach redemption by his hands or he would face abandonment for their transgressions. What was so special about them? What was it that drew the Father’s attention? He will have to open them and see for himself.

They escaped when the convoy to his bunker was ambushed, dragged away by the selfish and misguided Pastor Jerome. John had visited Joseph then, heading to his compound in orange dusk of the evening. His fingers squeezed white against the steering wheel of his car, fixation gripping him in a choke hold. The church doors swung open at his palms, the stretched shadow of Joseph kneeling on the podium,cast by the flickers of candlelight. The faint mutters of God’s prayers filled the holy space from his lips. He remained focused in prayer as John approached him, fighting himself to keep his temper at bay. He needed an explanation, he needed an answer for the nonintervention of the Deputy’s crimes. He waited as Joseph finished his prayer, rising to his feet and turning to face him, moving towards him with open arms, blue eyes filtered green through the yellow lenses.

“My brother, I wasn’t expecting you, what brings you to the church?”

Nerves bubbled in John’s gut, he didn’t want to be afraid of Joseph, he was his brother. But the threat of sending John to exile and the sudden preoccupation with the Deputy had shaken him, to think that his own blood would banish him from the garden chewed at his insides. But this needed fixing, he wouldn’t see himself lost from the path because of the Deputy.

“I need to speak with you, urgently.”

Joseph furrowed his brows, sending him a low nod.

“Of course, come sit with me, tell me whats on your mind.”

They moved to the first pew, sitting together side by side. Joseph looked on at John with concern, John wearing a grimace.

“It’s the Deputy.”

Joseph nodded, leaning back into the pew.

“Ah yes, I heard they escaped, but I trust you will bring them back onto the path to atonement.”

John narrowed his eyes, there it was again, the insistence of the Deputy to be cleansed, despite their belligerence.

“Yes, Pastor Jerome organised an ambush. He will be dealt with, I will drag him into the light of God myself. But that’s not why I came, I need to know, Joseph.”

It was Joseph’s turn for his eyes to thin, perplexity gracing his features, he searched over John’s face for more information.

“Need to know what, my Brother?”

“Why must they be redeemed? The travel all of Hope County spreading their lies and immorality. Their sin infects the very ground they walk on. Surely, they cannot be saved?”

Joseph sighed, reaching a hand to swipe at his brow. John’s gaze remained fixed on Josephs, as if his eyes could pluck the answer from his face.

“I understand your confusion, John. They have caused so much destruction with their lust for war, their wrath,…” The syllables hissed as they left his lips, the words filing away in John’s mind. “Their pride… It is easy when dealing with a enemy such as this to give into the temptation of sin, the rage that plagues your soul.”

John shifted awkwardly against the pew, his indulgence in sin being brought so openly into the conversation.  He was a sinner, they all were, but he endured years of atonement and expiation to cleanse himself of the deviation that pursued his being. He had crawled into the light of the Lord on hands and knee’s to achieve purity,  to rid his body of the disease that blinded him.

“But… God demands that we must save these lost souls no matter if they desire it, no matter if they deserve it. The ones who’s sin flows thick through their veins, who’s eyes are blind and their senses dulled, the ones who fight and resist and stray from the love of God, are the ones most in need of salvation. They must be brought to the gates.”

John set his teeth. This sinner had committed such atrocities against God and his people, their ignorance and defiance sought the destruction of everything they strive for. They were not worthy of a place in Eden but John definitely was,

“ But you would threaten to desert your own brother for a sinner? One tainted soul? What makes them so special?”

“We are all God’s children, some of us lose our way and it is our job to bring them back to that path. Some will try to harm us, some will try to destroy all that we have built here together, some will betray us. You see they are blind, blind to God and his love, blind to the Garden we can all live in. Your role is to wash them of their sin, the make sure they are of devoted body and soul, to make them pure. You draw their confessions so they may be known, you expose their transgressions so there is no hidden intent, you absolve them of their sins so they can be clean. I place this task on you because I have faith you can complete it, I give you the warning because your soul needs an incentive to stay on the path. I know your loyalty to us, the flock, me, I see your devotion, but you are easily led astray, it’s my role as the Father and your brother, to guide you and keep you whole.” 

Anger kicked in John’s chest. He wasn’t a disobedient child in need of discipline or punishment, he had served his time for that. Now he was a herald of Edens Gate, Confessor and Baptist, a man with devoted followers at his back, ready to follow his word. To be treated this way by his brother was patronising to say the least, he was sick of the restraint Joseph held over him, he may be the youngest but he was proficient, and eager to prove his worth. He wanted to scream, to throw and hit things and destroy all doubt of him. He stayed silent as he internally battled with his indignation, which threatened to boil over any second, he almost shook with the struggle.

“I just think-”

“You never learnt to think did you?”

The words held venom, intended to cause harm. Regret fumbled at the words as the exploded from his lips, his voice reverberating against the bones of the church. Joseph tensed, pain flashing in his eyes. He stared at his brother in bewilderment laced with concern. A moment of deathly silence fell between the both, John’s breath heavy with adrenaline.

“”You never learnt to think, that I can be trusted, that I am capable of abstaining from sin. You expect me to just fall back into old habits at any time, I was the last one to be assigned a region, you claim to have faith, but I don’t see it with me.”

The younger brothers eyes radiated anger and sorrow, the blue depths glaring with pain and Joseph’s were a replica, sadness filling them whole.

“John. I trust you with my life. I have seen what the years of sin have done to you and I must lead you from temptation, deliver you from evil. You have to love them John. Love them as I have loved you. Do not become blind to your sin.”

His words were stern, but ever calm like a father lecturing their child. John shook his head in disbelief. Rising from the pew and Joseph followed suit. John began for the door of the church, stopping to look at his brother.

“If you don’t have faith in me. I’ll have to give it to you.”

He carried on his way to the door, taking a chunk out of the wall with his knuckles. Joseph did not call out for him. He did not attempt to stop him and change his mind. John wouldn’t listen if he did, he had work to do. If Joseph couldn’t provide him with the answers he desired, he would extract them himself. He will open them, he will pull their perversions from them piece by piece, he will expose their deepest, darkest secrets, spilling them onto the floor of his Bunker. He will mark them with their sin and lay them bare for him to witness.  Their confessions will pour from them like wine and he will see what makes them so special.

And the harder they resist? Well…The harder he’ll have to scrub their soul.

Thanks for requesting!! Enjoy!

[5hfanfiction]

Can You Still Love Me? - Chapter 1: Teardrops on Ink

Plot:

“You can’t love, Lauren. Not now. Not when you can’t even love yourself." 

Everything seems perfect between the two Cuban Latina girls. Until the death of Lauren’s two younger siblings…

As her family struggles with the pain, Lauren is pushed over the edge as everything begins to collapse around the 22-year-old.

As Lauren struggles to cope, Camila learns that love doesn’t always fix everything, as true pain and the limitations of one’s spirit are discovered in this painful journey of disillusionment and redemption. The dark recesses of a tortured mind are a dangerous place to live. The pain, the anguish… the blame. And as her heart slowly fills with hate towards the world and herself, Lauren spirals out of control taking the one she loves with her. 

———————————————————————————————————-

2020 - Present Year

Have you ever noticed the swirls and patterns that manifest from a single droplet of water upon an inked up page? You sit transfixed as you watch the way in which the sphere of liquid molecules absorb the painstakingly, raw emotions held within the writing it has just tarnished. The confidence with which it simply dribbles the inky excrement in its wake, like the creeping tendrils of some dark nightmare, unabated in its malicious endeavours. Before long that poetic page becomes some piece of grossly mottled artwork, its true art tarnished by the streaks of sorrow that score it’s imperfect honesty, as if destroying the evidence.

As Camila Jauregui-Cabello perches unsteadily on the edge of the uncomfortable hotel room chair, these observations suddenly hold more bittersweet emotion than the stranger she calls her wife. Is she even considered her wife any longer? Camila is unsure. In fact, Camila is often unsure about many things nowadays. Somehow, her life had taken a wrong turn and ended up on some narrow, dingy route with retreat almost immediately struck off as an option, leaving the go-ahead as the only viable one remaining. Sometimes she ponders upon how she got to this point, how they managed to get so screwed up that even a professional cleaner would reject the anarchic mess that remains of their relationship.

The sound of the pen hitting the ground registers inside of Camila’s mind, yet she cannot recall ever loosening her grip on it in the first place. Glassy eyes drag over towards the fallen pen. Her brain numbly suggests that she should pick it up, but she just simply stares, hoping for it to return back where it belongs, hoping for it to have never fallen in the first place. She was sapped of her energy enough without having to save the pen from it’s pitiful state, and yet she still slowly reached down to wrap her bony fingers around it’s plastic container. If only the pen had never fallen…

She dully observes the slim, blue cylinder of plastic, rotating its body between her fingers. Remnants of a forgotten song whisper through her thoughts, vibrating through her body and humming through her lips. She can’t recall the exact memory that elicits the song, but she can feel the raw emotion that is attached, something that is both exquisite and foreign to her; love. It thrums through her body, a distant echo like a reminder of another dimension that exists but cannot be fathomed. The tune now is a baseless and hollow imitation, a tragic lament that twists beauty into despair and that longs pitifully for the majesty of what once was.

A rhythmic banging on the door awakens Camila from her conscious slumber, encouraging her eyes to move away from the dancing pen that her fingers continue to play with. Mentally, she groans at the thought of removing herself from the chair and dragging her feet several metres towards the door. Unfortunately the knocking persists, this time resulting in an audible groan from the woman that believed that moving her fridge next to her bed would an amazing idea.

"Fuck, I’m coming,” she growls out, stumbling to her feet and trying to remember how exactly she is supposed to walk. On her short, stilted journey to the front door she realises that her eyes are still damp with unshed tears and that she likely appears to have just been practicing the makeup for the Joker costume.

“Don’t need to hear about your sex life, Chanch!” the voice returns.

“What sex life?!” she shouts back, successfully reaching the door without her numb legs crumbling beneath her. She pulls the chain across and flicks the latch, turning the knob to give her best friend access to her apartment.

“Sorry,” Dinah sheepishly apologises, her hand rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. It is a familiar movement that fills Camila with a bittersweet feeling that leaves her feeling conflicted and frustrated to no end. Dinah has clearly developed that old habit from Camila’s wife, and it is almost painful to watch. Camila wonders when the day would arrive, that she won’t associate every single thing around her with her wife. “I didn’t mean to come off as insensitive.”

“It’s fine, Dee,” Camila sighs heavily, herding her in and shutting the door behind her.

“How…how are you? I mean, I know it’s a really dumb thing to ask, but…?” Dinah’s eyes are attentive and filled to the brim with concern over her oldest friend’s well-being.

“I…” Camila lets out a loaded huff in exasperation. “Everything feels like complete shit, Dee.”

Dinah merely nods in acknowledgement, silently motivating Camila to continue speaking; to allow her to vent.

“I mean how did we get here? How did it get to this? How did I  let it get to this?” There is the internal berating that Dinah knew was eventually going to leave Camila’s lips, the one that she has heard before and that she is sure she will have to listen to again.

“For fuck’s sake, Milz! Don’t be like that, don’t do that to yourself. You deserve so much more, do you understand me? This is notyour fault, not in any way and you did every single thing that you possibly could,” Dinah reasons, using her hands to emphasise the gravity held within those words.The woman, although beautiful, has been the epitome of a walking disaster longer than Dinah cares to think about — on the rare occasions that she leaves the house she becomes paranoid and anxious to the point where she will have a mental breakdown —and is barely surviving living heartbroken and alone.

The petite brunette merely shakes her head in disagreement, oily tresses limply swinging to and fro while her expression remains stoic. “You’re wrong, Dinah. So wrong.”

“Camila.” A warning that is not heeded by the younger woman.

“You just don’t know how completely wrong you are.”

* * *

Narrow islands surrounded by water, that is how Camila’s palms appears in the light; each groove collecting perspiration as the supply endlessly trickles from her hyperactive pores. Her finger twiddling is interrupted once again by the motion of her hands rubbing against the dress pants — that she had carefully donned earlier this morning — in an yet another attempt to dry her clammy fists. She’s vaguely aware that she is supposed to be giving her undivided attention to every word uttered by the admittedly attractive woman, and yet she can barely stand to sit still, impulsively fidgeting around in the stiff feminine pantsuit that she loathed to wear. Nowadays, she honestly loathes to wear anything that isn’t 3 sizes to big and doesn’t smell like stale pizza and Doritos.

“Mila, stop squirming!” Normani hisses under her breath. Unlike Camila, Normani is patiently watching the procession her hands clasped and folded calmly on her lap, while her expression remains stoic; the only part of her that conveys the enormous flood of nerves that were in fact overwhelming her system, are her eyes which seem to perceptively snap between the varying sources of interest.

“Can’t help it,” she whispers back, squirming once again on the hard, wooden chair.

“Look, I know this is difficult and all, and I can’t even try to imagine how you must be feeling, but just chill a little, okay? You look as if you’re going on trial for murder, which—may I say— is ironic as fuck.”

“It’s not that. I just…I can’t get comfortable.”

“Camila,” Normani says assuredly, her eager eyes finally settling on Camila’s own timid one’s for several moments, “it is because of your emotions. You may not consciously know it, but it is probably the only way your brain is coping.”

“I just…I can’t lose her too, Mani,” Camila explains, her voice crackling worse than a badly tuned radio station. Desperate tears sting all too familiarly in those deep dark-ochre eyes, as she tries to voice the words of love in a tragic tale of despair. “And…and I know I shouldn’t—not after everything— but she is all I have left. And I know it is fucked up, believe me, but even now a part of me screams that she doesn’t deserve this, even if she…if she does.”

“You love her,” Normani simply says.

“Even though I shouldn’t.”

“No, you really shouldn’t.”

Camila suddenly sighs but it isn’t simply a light sigh of dismay or frustration, it is so much more than that quick release of extra breath; rather it is a sigh of defeat and of resignation that tells a story of hopeless despair, and holds the woes of a person that had lost all that they had once held dear— it is the soul’s attempt to unburden itself for merely a fraction of a second. “My soul keeps trying to call out to her, but hers is so lost that it doesn’t seem to hear, and I feel mine just wither away the further she strays towards eternal limbo. I find myself squeezing my eyes shut in the hope that this is all some horrific nightmare, but no matter how many times I try, I can’t seem to wake up,” she sighs one of those soul shifting sighs once again before whispering in her pitchy, broken voice,“I really miss her, Mani…the real  her.”

“So do I, Mila…so do I.”

A thoughtful silence envelopes the two women as they reminisce on what they have lost and what has brought them to this moment; a personal funeral of sorts that is bittersweet in nature. It is only when the defendant stands, appearing far more lucid than she had been for over two years, that they each awake from their wishful fantasies to confront the grim reality before them. Camila’s heart stutters to a complete stop when the woman turns around and immediately embalms her coffee beans within her own passionate emeralds. It is automatic, as if she knows exactly where Camila is sitting, even though Camila is aware that it is impossible.

Then she does the unthinkable, her hand perceptibly clasps in front of her heart before quickly splaying out in a throwing motion towards Camila’s direction. It is an archaic gesture that was once used in their relationship to convey their complete love and devotion for one another, a gesture that Camila believed that she would never again see the sight of. Yet, here is her divorced wife telling her in a room full of judgemental assholes, that despite everything she actually loves her back. Camila can’t help the tears that instinctively dribble from the corners of her eyes as she shoots a small smile to the one woman she had moments ago believed had lost all of her humanity. That familiar sheepish grin that triggers countless bittersweet memories, graced her ex-wife’s face for the first time in two years and suddenly Camila doesn’t feel so alone. Suddenly Camila wants nothing more than for Lauren to plead not guilty. Suddenly Camila wants to believe with every fibre of her being that Lauren isn’t capable of murder. That she isn’t a monster.

Even though Camila knows that she is.

And with that grin, she is reminded of how everything started, of how they fell but forgot to catch one another when the ground rose up to meet them.

———————————————————————————————————————————-

A/N:

Hey!!!

This is now the new first chapter and it will jump between the past and the present to give an idea of how the story has unfolded and to contrast the happiness from the despair.

As lame as this sounds, this is going to be epic! I can’t wait!

Mel <3

Wattpad: @MelT_Me

[benmiff]

A Letter To Anubis

Been meaning to write up some stuff for the post-game for the Ancient Egyptian-ish Numenera game I was in for a little while, and finally gotten around to the first piece. As the title suggests, this is a letter that Iry has written to Anubis pretty soon after settling in to his new role as advisor to Tu, an unfinished responsibility he has to address (and one he hopes can be resolved happily, though ultimately that is up to Anubis.)

Anubis,

I have been trying to find the right words for what I need to say to you for some time now. I appreciate that there is an irony in a priest of Thoth having difficulty in finding words, but conveying the full scope of what has passed is difficult with the limitations that language imposes. Still, I have to be honest with you, have to be honest with myself and those I care about. This is something I have to say, and I need to believe you know what I mean where there are things that won’t fit in this letter; you must surely know the feelings I speak of, and the nature of what you have done, even if they cannot be completely detailed here.

It’s important that you know I’m not angry with you, not really. No, I’m just disappointed in you, and sad that you seem to have lost your way. You are one of the gods that laid down the laws of man and gods, and yet you are in breach of your own rules. You say that you should be able to truthfully claim that you have not acted with arrogance, and yet you have decided what is best for another without any consideration of what they wished. You say that you should be able to truthfully claim that you have not done less than your daily obligations require of you, and yet you have foisted your duty to oppose Ramesu onto Tari and let her take the costs of that duty. You say that you should be able to truthfully claim that you have caused no wrong to be done to any workers, and yet your influence has led to the death of someone who followed your guidance faithfully. And you say that you should be able to truthfully claim that you have not caused the shedding of tears, and yet you have caused Tari to die and those who loved her to believe in her betrayal. Your deeds are not in keeping with your ideals – you took an innocent, and you used her in ways she did not deserve.

I admit that I am not blameless in this endeavour either, and I know that I have my own reckoning waiting for me when I face Ammut and Thoth for their final judgements. I should have seen that Tari was hurting; with my abilities, I should have felt that she was hurting, should have reached out and made her feel less alone. Perhaps if I had she would have come to me or Seth or Tabiry and confided in us, and all of this could have been avoided, but I was too wrapped up in my own trials and burdens to realise she needed my help. That is something that I will have to bear for the rest of my nights, true, but it does not absolve you for your deeds in this affair.

You knew Tari was vulnerable. You knew she needed someone who would show her that she could trust us and that would show her that together we could stop Osiris and Ramesu, that there was no need for her to sacrifice herself. But it was easier for you to keep her isolated and to use her vulnerability. It was easier for you to let her sacrifice herself rather than extend yourself. Easier, though, is not the same thing as right or good; such a choice is never truly the better choice, for though the decision was simpler you have only delayed the costs of your actions until a later time. You have to live with yourself afterwards, knowing that you betrayed what you should have protected. Perhaps you think you can live with that price, but over time you will find you have changed, and there will be a day where you cannot face who you were in those moments. Please, trust me when I tell you this – I am speaking from experience that was most painful to learn, and if you learn from this it will spare you the same suffering.

Sadly, this was not even the end of your misdeeds. You had the rare chance to alleviate a good amount of the pain and suffering that you caused when you manipulated Tari into dying for you. But you didn’t take that chance, and instead chose to use the opportunity to earn at least some forgiveness as an opportunity to extort further benefits for yourself. Love is a powerful thing, and there are few who would not pay any price if it meant that a loved one is returned to them. I have no issue with spending a time in your service – in truth, I feel that I will need to remain near you for a time to bring you back to being the honourable god you used to be and can be once more. I doubt you will often want to hear my advice, but I will give it anyway, and in time I will no longer need to act as your conscience as your own should have returned. However, I am not the only one you forced into service – you also extorted both Tabiry and Seth, and that is unjust and cruel. Release them from the binding to serve that you laid upon them; such a deed would at least start you on the path back to redemption.

As I have said, I write none of this out of anger or hatred. I want you to come back to us and the people of Egypt as you once were, and I hope you do so willingly. However, I know that it would be easy to reject what I am saying, more comfortable to believe that you know what you have done is right and just and that you have committed no sins that could not be excused. However, it is the kind of easiness that you will pay for in the future, as you lose sight of who you should be and the things you should care about. I do care for you, much as I care for all the gods, but I fear that my concerns alone will not prove sufficient to say you from the path you have chosen; as such, I have sent copies of this letter to Thoth and Ammut as well so that your closest allies can also help to bring you back. We will be here for you, and we will not let you fall – none of us want to see you become another Osiris, reduced to a pitiful shell of what you once were with centuries of painful work needed before there is any hope you are returned to the side of light. I’m afraid for you that you seem to be on such a road and steadily heading towards darkness – please, turn around before it is too late.

Yours in faith,

Iry Resseneb.