#tig screams into the void

[inkybinkyboink]

a casual essay on breaking bad as a piece of queer media

word count: 2280

spoiler warning for breaking bad, better call saul and el camino!

essay is under the cut!

its safe to say that the breaking bad cinematic universe is one of the most successful pieces of storytelling in film we have ever come across. all three parts of the story, breaking bad, better call saul and el camino are well known to have all gotten very successful ratings and have been well received by the majority of its viewers. something incredibly fascinating about all three of these pieces of media is the theme of love, and how love doesn't take a place as a B plot, but is rather tightly woven in to the main idea. on top of that, it's execution on screen diverts from the typical imagery we frequently see in film and tv. love and affection is tailored to the characters themselves, and sex is not included unless it's absolutely necessary, or if it furthers the plot. none of the love and affection is gratuitous which makes it all the more meaningful when it does happen, because you know theres an inherent intention behind it.

more specifically, the writing team of the breaking bad cinematic universe don't approach their story with a heteronormative perspective, and not limiting their ideas on gender expression when it comes to the characters. by observing specific instances of this occurring (in no particular order), a greater understanding of not only the characters, but their relationships with others can be obtained.

something that can easily be observed occurring in all breaking bad, better call saul and el camino is the sheer amount of homoeroticism the respective stories contain. homoeroticism is portrayed differently depending on who's doing the writing and filming. for example, kathryn bigelow is well known for her portrayal of homoeroticism typically shot in tandem with violence, with men fighting each other, but very intimately. vince gilligan and co take a different approach, including homoerotic, or same sex affection that is really quite gentle in many occasions. el camino is a good guide for this. over and over we get instances of men being gentle and close with one another, adjusting the action to fit the tone, regardless of if it deviates from the gender stereotype. jesse leaning his nose against the back of casey's head, panicked, allows the viewer to gather just how desperate jesse is, opposed to something heteronormative and stereotypical, like jesse fighting his way out of the situation. and it's not just that instance we see that intimacy between men. other notable scenes include todd lifting jesse's chin up, or neil staring casey down mere inches from his face. in the case of el camino, gentle and quiet intimacy is used as a vessel for control, contrasted to the modern mainstream stereotype that men have to be strong, loud and rather angry all of the time. badger and skinny pete provide a good example as well. they live together in a house and they just vibe. there's a trampoline outside in their yard, and they're clearly happy being around each other all the time. the idea that "boys don't cry" is almost non-existent in the breaking bad universe.

if we look at better call saul, we see this idea of homoeroticism being perpetuated. we see it a little bit, albeit in a slightly different light with amber, nikki and jo. what's interesting about the three girls is that it's never verbally confirmed the state of their relationship both with each other and with nacho. for all we know, they could just be friends, and it's the open endedness of their relationship that reinforces the representation of gender stereotypes and homoeroticism in the story. by that logic, you could assume badger and skinny pete were together too, because there's no qualifiers that inherently say for certain that they are or aren't together romantically. even in the light that the girls and nacho are dating, the point still stands, because it makes it representation for polyamory. the beautiful thing about nacho and his two to three weed smoking girlfriends is the gentility that accompanies them. falling back onto the point of sex not being a gratuitous device, we never see nacho or the girls doing anything remotely sexual. they are simply together in the most literal sense possible.

perhaps the most biting example of homoeroticism being prevalent though, has to do with lalo salamanca and howard hamlin. these two characters, who meet exactly once, and who have little to nothing in common, upon being murdered are lowered into a pit where they will spend eternity together. the thing is, the characters who cleaned up after the murders arguably didnt have to do this. they didn't have to bury lalo and howard together, but they did. the concept is almost laughable because of how absurd it is in nature, but i think that's what makes it so good. not only are they buried together, but their positions mimic real photos of male skeletons being found together holding one another, leading the public to theorize that they may have been gay lovers. it's both beautiful and sad, but also funny because conceivably, the skeletons of howard hamlin and lalo salamanca could be found and assumed to be gay lovers. if that doesn't scream "homoeroticism" i don't know what does.

sifting through all this gay talk, we actually find a real gay in the mix. owner of the cock brothers- i mean los pollos hermanos- gustavo fring. gustavo fring, in my opinion, is one of the best examples of queer rep that exists. though him being gay wasnt something that came out until after the show, gus being gay wasn't an afterthought. it wasn't something tacked on like j. k. r/wl/ng saying dumbledore was gay. you can tell this was a character written to be queer, the subtext is absolutely there, and it's covertness is what makes it all the more beautiful, and makes gus such a strong character. what's fascinating about gus is that his relationship with max is one of the few established and prioritized relationships in breaking bad and better call saul. gus is strongly motivated by max's death, or for the sake of keeping all our ducks in a row, motivated by his lover. the only other people to do this are jimmy and kim, and walter and skyler.

this is where the idea of the theme of love not taking a backseat really gets kicked into high gear. because the theme of love is so closely woven in with the main plot, the actions a character makes are going to, at least in part, be made because of their loved ones. if we look at gus, this is arguably all we see. he's a man born into poverty, who built himself up from nothing, only to continue to be held back by societies views on something you literally have no way of controlling. it's the one thing you cant "fix" or "work around". especially in the 80′s. despite that hindrance, he still finds someone who loves him unconditionally, who he clicks with, he can work with no matter what, and then that's ripped away from him. it's ripped away from him in the most traumatic way possible. the thing is, gus cant tell anyone about it. he can't even say "i lost my partner" and disguise it as something its not because that would mean outing himself as a gay man in the 80′s.

this is only reinforced in better call saul near the end of season 6, when we see gus go to a restaurant to drink some wine. he runs into an old friend called dave and dave decided to sit down and chat for a little bit. and the thing is, gus is this kind of quiet, very professional, almost superficial guy, but when talking to dave, he's interested and smiling, and it could be inferred he likes this guy a lot, maybe he's even flirting a little bit. it's so different from the gus we're familiar with. and yet, when dave leaves for a moment, we get this incredible close up of gus and i swear to god you can see the cogs moving in his mind. you can see him thinking about what it would mean to pursue a relationship. like clockwork you see him want, realize, hurt, and decide. you see gus decide he doesn't want to keep talking to dave despite his clear interest. whether that's because he doesn't want dave to get caught in the crossfire, or something to do with max is something only the actor would know, but the actions and verbs giancarlo esposito plays come across loud and clear. along with the cinematography, it makes one of the most heartbreaking and well done scenes my amateur ass has seen in a while.

almost all of what we learn about gus' true feelings and past is learned through subtext, or nonverbal communication. not only does this highlight the writing quality of this show, but esposito's acting skill, and ability to shape and build a character. gus is outwardly a villain, but has motivations based in good, something that's universal among many breaking bad characters. all of them do shitty things, but with good intentions, because they think what they're doing is justifiable. no character is purely good or purely bad, they're all just human.

gus' love for max is highlighted most in the fact that gus built a village for him. and not just a village, god no, that would be too easy, but a village dedicated to healing, peace and pure love. not only that but the entire scene between mike and gus has a big fucking highlighted flag on it that says "im literally telling you gus thinks he's in the right doing these things". gus thinks he's in the right to hurt the salamancas and take revenge because they killed max. and he explains this. next to a pond. dedicated to max.

the desire to get justice for a loved one is a pretty universally relatable concept. the want for someone you truly love to live a long, happy life is understandable, so when they don't get that in one way or another, it's upsetting. this idea is shared by gus and mike. gus who wants revenge for max, and mike who understands the will for revenge because of his son, matty. mike is never told explicitly that the village is for gus' dead boyfriend, but he doesn't need to be told. all he needs to be told is "you understand preserving the love you have for someone, and you understand the thirst for revenge".

the theme of love in the breaking bad universe is such a universally understood thing that it wouldn't make sense to confine it to one cookie cutter figure in the first place. it's a good show because none of the characters rely on explicit gender norms to back up their personalities. except for jesse, none of them are hesitant to do things that may make them appear as more or less masculine or feminine. and even though jesse starts off the show as that exception, by the end he comes out the most open-minded out of all of them.

this openminded-ness is stretched across most characters, from saul saying things like "bring your boyfriend or girlfriend to court with you", to lalo referring to max as gus' "boyfriend" even though hector had previously explicitly referred to max using derogatory slurs. breaking bad, better call saul, and el camino aren't love stories. theyre not of the romance genre, but the idea of love is painfully present in all three. love that is romantic, like in the case of max and gus, and jesse and jane is soft and precious. love that is anything but is still just as heart wrenching. jesse hugging walter after jane dies, nacho gently taking the remote from jo, jimmy taking care of chuck, lalo faking his death and only telling hector he's still alive, they're all the product of love, regardless of how fucked up it is conceptually.

the breaking bad cinematic universe has recently had a sort of comeback in the fandom. this could very well be because better call saul ended less than a year ago as of writing this, but i would argue it also has to do with all of the aforementioned points. re: the point about characters not needing to fall back on stereotypes- it's something that is frequently seen in specifically queer circles. a lot of folks who participate in what i guess could be considered fandom culture identify with the queer community as well, because of the large part of fandom culture that is open and accepting of the queer community. breaking bad fits right in by design because of its lack of gender stereotypes.

breaking bad and it's companion are incredible pieces of storytelling, and that doesn't need to be said. obviously, theres more than one answer as to why they are actually so well done and successful. the plot extends far, far beyond just the theme of love, and there's so much more to the story than love. however, you can't look at those other themes and messages without considering the influence of the themes of love, care and affection. part of the reason breaking bad is so good, is because the fundamental concepts are conceptual and relatable. it's people doing what they think is right in order to provide or give to those they care about. as long as you can get one foot in the door, you can weasel your way into understanding everything else. i think that starts with the theme of love. because what is not more relatable than giving to those you truly care about?

[bullet-prooflove]

Killing Me Softly Part One: Livid - Alexander 'Tig' Trager x Reader

Tagging: @mortal--soul @yourwinchesterbros @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @nessamc @ritasantosworld @bl4ckt00thgr1n @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @nu1freakshow @@oureternalbond @the-wandering-lunatic @lexondeck @keyweegirlie  @theplacewhereallthedemonsgo

There are two things that neither you or Tig will compromise on and that is Luann and the club. Everything else has a degree of flexibility. It’s why the two of you work so well. That is until something forces an impasse, such as Clay’s decision to keep Georgie Caruso alive when he re-enters the country.

Tig has never seen you this furious, there’s a fire in you that blazes like the fucking sun. He can feel the rage emanating from your skin as you stand in front of him. He’s infuriated, aroused and livid all at the same time because you’d gone behind his back and taken matters into your own hands, pointing a gun in the face of the man that had murdered your friend. The only thing that stopped you from pulling the trigger was the fact that Clay had left him babysitting.

“You are fucking killing me here darlin,” He’s yelling when he hauls you outside. “…killing me.”

You wrench yourself out of his grasp, twisting to face him with a fury in your eyes that he thinks would be at home in the seven circles of hell. You look wild and untamed, a beautiful force of nature. You shove him hard, he falters a step, so you do it again and he lets you because all of that rage your feeling, it has to go somewhere.

“I’m killing you?!” You snarl at him, your palms smacking on the leather of his jacket. “I just walked in there, to find the man I love cuddling up to the man who murdered my fucking friend. He’s a fucking animal.”

“Cuddling?” He hisses, grasping you under the arms and drawing you close. “You think we’re sitting in there taking turns with that fucking blow up doll? It is taking every single fibre of my self-control not to wrap my hands around the little fucker’s throat and choke the life right out of him.”

“That feeling you have…” You tell him, jabbing him in the chest with your fingertip and it feels like a fucking railroad spike straight to heart. “…is what I live with every single day, knowing that bastard is sitting comfortably on his throne of fucking cocks, jerking off while Luann lies in the ground rotting. Give me back the fucking gun.”

“I’m not giving you back the fucking gun.” He snaps, meeting your ferocious gaze with one of his own. “I’m not letting you do twenty-five to life for killing him, I’m not letting you sign your own death warrant because you know that’s what will happen don’t you? He dies and Clay comes after you, is that what you want?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter.” You snarl, tearing yourself out of his arms.

It’s like you’re screaming into the fucking void, and no one can hear you. All the agony you feel in your chest, it surges through you until it becomes almost unbearable.

“Of course, it fucking matters.” He tells you, his voice cracking as his hands come to rest upon your shoulders. His eyes are fucking stinging because he senses that the inevitable is coming, the two of you are at a crossroads and he knows there’s no turning back.

“Fuck you Trager.” You spit, tearing yourself away before retreating back to the shelter of your car. “Fuck you and fuck your club.”

Love Tig? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[brookaboo]

birds of a feather

pt 2 of hawks x wife!reader

he finally tells his son and the aftermath of it all

The battle had been won, but Hawks felt no triumph, only a gaping void where you used to be. Your sacrifice was the final push that allowed the heroes to triumph over All For One, but it came at a price he never wanted to pay. His wings were gone, his quirk extinguished, and his heart shattered.

For hours after the fight, he had stayed where you fell, unwilling to let go of the last piece of you. When the medics tried to move you, it took everything in him not to scream, to fight to keep you close. But he had to leave eventually, retreating to the home you had built together—where your son, Kaito, was waiting.

The door felt impossibly heavy as he pushed it open. The warm scent of the home you loved hit him immediately—your lavender candles, the faint aroma of the cookies you had baked with Kaito the night before you left. His knees threatened to buckle as he stepped inside, knowing you would never fill this space again.

“Daddy!” Kaito’s cheerful voice rang out before Hawks could compose himself. The sound was like a knife to his chest.

The boy ran toward him, his dark hair disheveled, his eyes—your eyes—shining with excitement. He had been waiting for you both to come back, no doubt imagining you holding his hand and laughing about the day’s events.

“Daddy, did you win? Did Mommy win?” Kaito asked eagerly, tugging on Hawks’ sleeve.

Hawks swallowed hard, crouching down to Kaito’s level. His son’s innocent smile tore him apart. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat, choking him. His trembling hands reached out to steady Kaito’s shoulders.

“Kaito,” he began softly, his voice raw and shaky. “There’s something I need to tell you about Mommy.”

Kaito’s smile faltered, replaced with a small, curious frown. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Mommy…” Hawks’ voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, trying to hold himself together. “Mommy was so brave today. She saved a lot of people, Kaito. She was a hero—just like you always said she was.”

Kaito nodded eagerly, his expression brightening a little. “Yeah! Mommy’s the best hero!”

Hawks’ heart broke all over again. “She is. She always will be. But…” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet his son’s gaze. “Mommy… she got hurt, Kaito. Really bad. And… she’s not coming home.”

The room fell silent. Kaito stared at him, his little brow furrowing as he tried to process the words. “What do you mean? Where’s Mommy?”

Hawks pulled Kaito into his arms, holding him tightly. “She’s gone, buddy. She… she’s up in the stars now, watching over us. She’ll always be with us, in our hearts.”

At first, Kaito didn’t say anything. Then, quietly, he asked, “Did she leave because I was bad?”

Hawks felt his chest constrict, and he shook his head furiously, pulling back to look at his son. “No! No, Kaito, this wasn’t your fault. Mommy loved you more than anything in the world. She was so proud of you, every single day. She wanted to make sure you were safe—that’s why she fought so hard.”

Tears streamed down Kaito’s cheeks as he buried his face in Hawks’ chest. “I want Mommy!” he sobbed, his small body trembling.

Hawks held him, his own tears falling freely. “I know, buddy. I know. I want her too.”

The days that followed were a blur of grief and emptiness. The home felt unbearably quiet without your laughter, your presence. Hawks found himself sitting in your favorite chair late at night, clutching the blanket you always used.

Kaito slept in your bed every night, curled up against Hawks, his small hand gripping his shirt like he was afraid he’d disappear too. Hawks never let him go, whispering stories about you when Kaito couldn’t sleep.

“Mommy used to tell me you were going to be the greatest hero someday,” Hawks said one night, brushing Kaito’s hair back as he sniffled. “She believed in you more than anyone.”

“Do you think she’s still watching me?” Kaito asked, his voice small.

Hawks nodded, his throat tight. “She’s watching, little bird. And she’s so proud of you.”

Weeks passed, and the world moved on. Heroes mourned the fallen, celebrated the victory, and began to rebuild. Hawks, now grounded without his wings, tried to find his place in a world that felt foreign without you.

He spent his days with Kaito, taking him to parks, playing the games you used to play with him, trying to keep your memory alive. Every so often, Kaito would ask about you, and Hawks would tell him more stories—about your kindness, your strength, your love for them both.

One day, as they sat under the stars, Kaito pointed to the brightest one. “That’s Mommy,” he said confidently.

Hawks smiled, his heart aching and full at the same time. “Yeah, buddy. That’s her. And she’s shining just for you.”

Though the pain of losing you never faded, Hawks carried on for Kaito—for the family you had built together. And every time he saw your son’s smile, he felt a piece of you with him, reminding him that even in loss, your love would always remain.

[rebelwrites]

Do Not Give Her A Gun

Jax Teller x Reader

Requested by @beeroses // Hey my favorite writer 💚 saw your prompts and request were open, and i liked the sound of : “You’re the clumsiest person I know...how did you survive past childhood? " and “Lord give me patience or an untraceable handgun” with Jax Teller, where character works at Teller-Morrow and develops a great friendship with Jax but which involves a lot of bugging each other, but don’t we know they’re just hiding something more!? 😜 I love your work so much, you put so much joy in my days !! Thanks 💚

Prompts: “You’re the clumsiest person I know...how did you survive past childhood? " and “Lord give me patience or an untraceable handgun”

A/N: is it obvious I can’t stop thinking about my car 🤔😂

Join The TagList Here 💜 // Jax Teller Masterlist

The last year and a half had been the best time of your life, not only did you get a job working on cars you also found family. The day you found Teller-Morrow were hiring you jumped at the opportunity, Gemma hired you on the spot and the rest was history. Over the time you had been working here you had gotten close to everyone but there was on person that set your whole world on fire. You knew it, he knew it and so did everyone else

The moment you locked eyes with the blue eyed biker, you knew there would be trouble.

Everyone kept saying that the both of you should grow some balls and get together, but every time it was mentioned you both brushed the comment off, even though it’s all you wanted even if you had no idea on how Jax really felt.

Today was a slow day, so slow that it meant you could work on your car, which was one of the perks of the job. Stepping away from the ramp you smiled as you looked over your car. It was your baby and everyone knew it.

“Where the fuck did I put that 10 mill socket?” You mumbled to yourself as you wandered to your tool box. It was the way of the car world, the 10 mill sockets and spanners just disappeared into a void. No one knew why it was just the way, but you were particular with your tools and always put them away so your face dropped as you opened the drawer of the tool box, the see all your sockets there but an empty space where the 10 mill was meant to be. Well it wasn’t empty, in its place sat a folded piece of paper.

The moment you opened the paper you shook your head as you saw the rough handwriting that belonged to one person.

“Game on bitch ;)”

Oh this meant war!

“YOU BETTER FUCKING RUN TELLER!” You screamed slamming the draw to the tool chest before spinning on your heels. You were going to fucking kill him.

You both pulled pranks on each other all the time but he crossed a line this time. A line he knew not to cross. Everyone knew you didn’t touch the tools. Kicking the door to the clubhouse open, the room fell silent as the door slammed against the wall making everyone turn to you.

“Jackie boy what ye done now?” Chibs asked, looking between you and Jax.

“Where is it?” You hissed.

“Don’t know what you are talking about Princess” he smirked sipping his beer casually.

“Don’t play dumb with me you blonde fucker” you spat “give me the 10 mill back”

“Oh shit” Tig sighed “please tell me you didn’t touch her tools”

“I still don’t know what she is on about” Jax laughed.

“Explain the note you left in its place?” You huffed.

“Magic” he shrugged grinning at you.

“Lord give me patience or an untraceable handgun” you muttered rolling your eyes.

“Do not give her a gun” Jax said “she will shoot me”

“That’s the plan” you muttered as you made your way over to him not seeing the box that was in your path until it was too late.

You landed on the floor with a thud, and with how hard you fell you knew you would end up with a bruise on your ass but those thoughts were long forgotten we you felt yourself being pulled up to your feet and guided over to the table.

Jax pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You okay darlin’?” He asked, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re the clumsiest person I know...how did you survive past childhood?”

“I’m fine” you huffed, “and seriously if you don’t shut up I will get a gun and I will shoot you”

“You don’t have the balls Princess” he laughed as he slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt, grazing his fingers across your skin.

“Wanna bet” you growled “if you don’t give me the socket back I will”

“Fine, I put it in the box of condoms in my dorm” he smirked.

“Why would you put it there?” You questioned.

“I have my reasons” he shrugged.

“Oh for the love of god” Chibs said slamming his hands on the desk. “We are sick of the flirting, ya want to fack him and he wants ta fack ya. Just do it already”

“Chibsy” you exclaimed, feeling slightly embarrassed, your skin started to heat up and you squirmed under Jax’s touch.

“It’s true Princess” Jax hummed against your ear, his hot breath and beard tickling your skin. “I’m done hiding it”

“Oh” you whispered, turning to face him to see the lust in his eyes. “Well then, what are we waiting for Teller”

Without any warning Jax stood up, adjusting his grip so he didn’t drop you , he threw you over his shoulder, smacking your arse as he did making your squeal.

“I wouldn’t enter the dorms for while” he chuckled as he walked away from the table “I have a feeling this one is gonna be a screamer”

[variousqueerthings]

Okay because I already screamed about Excessive Force privately and I think I ought to scream about it more publicly (hello Void)

Or:

Excessive Force deserves cult status

1. Thomas Ian Griffith was severely underrated as an actor and as a martial artist/stuntman and that ought to be rectified

2. Thomas Ian Griffith is doing Cobra Kai, which means his other fascinating specimen is being enjoyed, aka The Karate Kid Part Three -- most people tend to agree that he did a stellar job doing Exactly what he was meant to in that movie... time to give a look at his other projects to see what else he's done well in (and written)

3. It's a movie that's about vigilantism, but like... hilarious. I have no idea what's intentional and what's not, but even the title "Excessive Force" is so "what was Die Hard already taken" (oh yeah, it was) -- there's cop propaganda and then there's whatever the hell this is, like a mix of affection for the genre of vigilante justice + martial arts movies + so over the top that it's actually a comedy and ought to be enjoyed for the satirical overtones

(I never want to know if this movie was meant to be serious -- the point is that it's Cult Trash at its finest)

4. It's better than Carpenter's Vampires fight me on that, but it's the name of Carpenter that pushes the cultness, not TIGs (even though it should, he's always breaking his back to carry movies and he was great in Vampires too)

5. Speaking of names, and the main reason I don't understand why this hasn't been a cult film all along: James Earl Jones and Tony Todd! In The Same Movie! Two of the smoothest voices ever to speak on this earth! What I???? Why isn't this movie drooled over by the Enthusiasts of Filmé??????

6. James Earl Jones and Tony Todd have one scene with each other and it's like it turns the whole movie into another genre for a hot second -- a movie that's not an entertaining vigilante martial arts hybrid, but practically feels like a masterclass of Narrative

7. Seriously how did they get attached to this project??? I Don't Care, I'm just happy that they're in it!

8. TIG is sexy in it -- this is bias, but he also had severely underappreciated sex appeal (no longer underappreciated) and we all know the girls, gays, and "look at his Abs bro" straight-guys want sex appeal in their fucked up vigilante lead!

My point is this film shouldn't be so damn difficult to find online, it oughta be talked about on dorky film blogs (affectionate)

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter One - Disclosure

A/N: This was supposed to be a Jax x Fem!OC fanfic, but it took a little turn as I started to write more of it. So, it’ll be Tig x Fem!OC, but Jax does play a very important role in this.

SUMMARY: A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of murder, the guy that got his ass shit is in this one. Jax and Tig get their own warnings, too, for obvious reasons.

The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom. It only brings weary.

John Teller was always so astute.

His judicious character befell his son, too. Jax had that same perceptive nature as his old man--everyone would comment on that.

To Isla, it was admirable. For Jackson Teller to be a man of such stature--to hold such a reputation--and to remain somewhat level-headed through it all, was only something she could commend.

She'd seen many of her father's friends crumble under the pressure of Samcro, unable to balance the weight of living with the responsibility and commitment to the club, and meet their unfortunate demise--in some not-so extreme cases.

But Jax was different. He'd always been different.

Maybe that wasn't so great, however.

"You're fucking insane, Isla."

"Not insane." She mumbled, sifting through the box of shitty medical supplies that Gemma had left atop the pool table last night.

"Just trying to patch this shit up so Hayes doesn't kick the fucking bucket before Jax gets back here."

Tig snarled. "But it might be infected, and the bullet is still in this dude's ass--"

Isla whipped her head to glare at the man, her eyes wide, forehead slick with sweat--and a little blood, too.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Isla--"

"Tig, with all due respect, unless you're gonna help, please get the fuck outta here."

"That's not gonna suffice," he pointed out, referring to the medical tape, ignoring her scolding.

She wanted to throttle him. Truly, Isla was willing to wrap her crimson-coated fingertips around Tig's neck and squeeze the absolute life out of that man.

"I know." Her lips kneaded together in frustration, watching her father dab an alcohol-infused pad on the wound. "But unless you've got any better ideas, then we're just gonna have to keep reapplying this shit."

"But the infection, Isla."

"But the lack of medical equipment, Tig."

He slapped his palm against the table and glared at her, pointedly. "Why've you gotta be such a bitch all the time, huh?"

"Watch it, Trager." Piqued, Chibs growled.

"I'm not a bitch all the time," she dismissed her father, wiping at her palm with a wet rag. "I'm actually able to control the way I act around other people."

"Oh, fuck you--"

"Christ!"

The Scot's yell was muffled by the cap of his whiskey bottle, his hand pressing against Cameron's skin as the man screamed into the cloth Isla had placed underneath his head.

"God, for fucks sake, both of you just pack it in."

"Chibs--"

"Shut the fuck up. You're a fucking geriatric and you're spending your morning bickering with an almost thirty-year-old. Grow up, Tig."

Despite laughing at his comment, and enjoying the irritation wash over the other man's face, she felt bad.

For riling her father up--who was simply trying to help the innocent Irishman caught in the literal crossfire--she felt fucking awful. Especially because he never seemed to get mad at her all too often.

Tig, though...That was a different story entirely.

"I'm gonna go see if Clay has any more shit lying 'round here." She declared, throwing a damp towel onto the table, backing out of the room.

Her heart was in her throat, stomach in damn knots. Isla wasn't confident that Cameron was going to make it--not with such a deep wound.

And in his ass, too? Jesus. She wasn't confident at all.

Of course, she'd seen men get shot. Her own father, for one. But she hadn't seen somebody have to go so long without actual medical attention.

Chibs was ex-army med, but there was only so much a man could've done with a bottle of liquor, gauze, and a towel.

She was relieved that the bullet hit Cameron and not Clay, though. As sick as it sounded, she was so fucking glad that he'd managed to dodge the line of fire--initially intended for his own skull--and come out completely unscathed.

But for every ounce of relief she'd felt, an even more fervid sense of anger prevailed at the thought of Jax taking so damn long with those medical supplies he'd sought to get last night.

Gemma mentioned something about heading to the hospital--or a friend's house, or something--but Isla wasn't paying any mind to the woman as she, and Chibs, were trying all ways to stop the bleeding coming from Cameron's ass cheek.

It was the most bizarre turn of events she'd ever experienced.

One minute, Isla was sipping on a glass of wine while she eagerly awaited the spirited ping of her tiny microwave oven, ready to spend a rare--though well fucking deserved--night alone.

However, things took a drastic turn when she received a call from Tig--on behalf of a very busy Chibs--casually requesting her assistance because the Mayans had tried to assassinate Clay.

But Tig failed to mention that the man was completely fine.

She'd spent fifteen minutes on the way over mentally preparing herself, wondering what hell she'd walk into when she set foot into the clubhouse. But it was normal--strangely so.

Isla wasn't a professional, she didn't exactly know how to handle such a trauma, but she trusted her father and she just wanted to make sure he had a helping hand.

God knows that Tig wouldn't have been very much use, and Juice was a little nervous--though, he was doing incredibly well throughout the ordeal regardless of his internal apprehension.

"How's it looking?" Gemma threw at Isla, getting to her feet.

"Bloody."

She quickly scanned the room, taking in the uncomfortably sparse bar. It wasn't usually so empty, so quiet.

Clay, Gemma, and Juice. That was it. Not even Piney--not even Epps.

"Is he doing okay?"

It was still early in the day, though. She guessed that they'd pop in once they properly came around.

"He's better than he was last night." The brunette nodded. "Dad is certain the laceration is gonna get infected if we leave it any longer without trying to get the bullet out--"

"You've gotta wait 'til Jax gets back here, Isla, we can't risk Hayes dying on us."

"I know, Clay. He's just fucking tired--he's been up all night. We need a real medic on the scene before something bad happens. It's only a matter of time."

He mumbled something to himself that only Gemma seemed to catch, but Isla didn't particularly give a damn at that point. Like Chibs, she was exhausted.

The tattered and torn plaid shirt she had thrown over a random tank top--now smeared with another man's blood--was wrenched between her fingers as she pulled it off, folding it not-so-neatly.

She hadn't dealt with such a bloody wound in a while. Not since her mother's palm, decorated with shards of glass, was in dire need of stitches and her father was across the country, unable to offer his medical assistance.

"I'll grab one of Jax's shirts for you--"

"No, Gemma, it's okay," she smiled, taking a seat on one of the couches opposite her.

The older woman pinched her eyebrows together skeptically, watching Isla shift. "I insist."

"It's fine." Isla was adamant. "I'm gonna head home as soon as Jax gets back here--if he gets back here--so, really, it's fine."

A minimal amount of already dried blood was spread over her wrists and fingers, and the excess had been rubbed off on her crimson flannel, so she didn't particularly feel bad about making any mess.

Though, she shouldn't have felt bad. Not after she'd been coerced into helping and eventually receiving that shitty reception from Tig.

"Aren't you cold?" She questioned, waiting for Isla to capitulate, but she never did.

The thought of wearing one of Jax's shirts--after it being given to her by his fucking mother--didn't sit right with her for some reason. Plus, she didn't particularly feel like walking out of that building wearing the damn reaper on her back.

She didn't want to flaunt their patch. Not any more than she already had been for the last ten years.

"Where the fuck is he?"

Clay glared at the clock on the wall, realizing they'd been without the Vice President for hours. In an attempt to put him at ease, Gemma ran a hand along his shoulder.

Isla could only watch them--admire, perhaps.

"He told us he was gonna swing by Tara's place for the equipment. But that was last night, man." Juice shrugged, circling the lip of his beer bottle with his thumb.

She felt her throat thicken with a sick sense of trepidation. She hadn't heard that name in years.

"Tara?" She stuttered, feeling Gemma's piercing glare.

The woman hated Jax's first love, though she never said it aloud. Isla knew her perception of her, however, and she'd started to feel the exact same as the years went on.

Bitch.

"Yeah, y'know, Tara Knowles--"

Her heart sank--fuck that, it dove straight to the deep caverns of her chest, throbbing away into nothing. Until she felt completely void of all emotion. Completely fucking numb.

"I know her, Juice." Her response came hastily, snappy. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to say that."

He shrugged it off. "It's alright. I wasn't expecting her to be back in town, either. I thought you already knew."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Isla's head shook.

The crow situated at the bottom of her spine began to smolder, blistering away at her skin until she physically flinched.

It was a brilliant idea at the time, getting a matching tattoo with Jax's old lady--the one woman she truly adored and trusted, never once feeling an ounce of malice toward.

Because that was a rare thing for Isla, and she wanted their friendship--and relation to Samcro--to prevail for eternity, she supposed.

But as time went on and Tara decided to distance, and eventually alienate, herself from the club, an ample sense of regret persisted for fucking months.

Isla loathed her ink. She hated the negative connotation of the crow she once lauded, and the mere idea of that thing being slapped above her ass forever churned her stomach.

It wasn't one of her finest moments, she had to admit. But she was young and extremely fucking dumb. She'd bet top dollar that Tara felt the same--if she hadn't gotten the crow covered up already.

"Jesus, Jax, where were you?!"

Her eyes flicked upward, attention on the blonde as he sauntered across the wooden floor of the bar.

She hadn't even noticed his presence until Clay spoke, but she soon started to heed how Jax was trembling a bit with every step that he took.

It wasn't obvious. To most people, the slight shake of his wrist would've gone completely unnoticed. But to Isla--to the most observant woman in Charming--his discomfort was striking.

Jax ignored him, stomping his way toward the back room. His line of sight never satisfied Isla's. It didn't even come close to it, either.

Something had happened. It was obvious that, in the time he had been with Tara, he'd encountered something grizzly enough to chill him to the bone.

Which was saying something, what with the horrific shit that he'd already seen in his time.

"Jax!" Clay yelled, following closely behind him. "Hey, asshole, where the fuck did you put the bag--"

"I've got it."

If she had the option, Isla would've allowed the floor to swallow her fucking whole.

"Tara." Pissed, Gemma acknowledged. "You're here because?"

"I asked her to help, mom."

"But Chibs had it covered. He just needed some actual instruments--"

"Gemma, quit it."

She simply nodded at her son, not wanting to cause another problem that she'd have to fix later--which, honestly, Isla was shocked to see.

"He's in there--"

"I know." Jax cut her short, ushering Tara to the back of the clubhouse--striving to get her into the room before she heeded Isla.

But she did.

The first person she clocked--aside from Clay--was Isla Telford, the woman she had purposely alienated herself from ten fucking years ago.

It wasn't anything that she'd particularly done to Tara, more like the crowd she ran with--and the way her loyalties never seemed to lay very closely to her friends, or anything outside of the club.

Isla wasn't a part of Samcro--she didn't want to be a part of Samcro--but her coalition was strong enough to convince anybody that she was more than merely a daughter of a Sgt. at Arms.

She had been brought up around the Sons--her father's choice, of course--and when her mother passed, she had no choice but to dive a little bit deeper into that world. But, as expected, it was constantly under the watchful eye of her old man.

She was dedicated to them. They were, essentially, family, and she was an honorary member.

"Isla." Jax mumbled, nodding his head toward the entrance of the clubhouse as he closed the back-door. "Outside."

He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his leather vest, shaking the box as he strived to seem a little less suspicious to Clay and his mother.

The blonde wobbled to her feet--knees weak after hours of standing--while simultaneously pulling her bloodied flannel back onto svelte, freckled arms, recognizing that the chill was to hit her the second she stepped onto the gravel.

Jax was casual while he strutted ahead, taking long strides that Isla found fucking impossible to keep up with.

He pushed the door to close behind her, offering a cigarette that she hastily declined.

"What's she doing here?" Was how she decided to break the silence, her eyes searching for a hint of something written on his face.

But there was nothing. Not an ounce of emotion--scarily so.

"She's fixing Cameron up--"

"Not at the clubhouse, Jax. I meant back in Charming."

He ran a thumb across his lower lip, trying to soften his gaze on Isla, but it was futile. He looked discomposed--unsettled.

"She's uh--she's workin' at the hospital now." She started to nod, waiting for his elaboration. It never came, however.

"Oh, that's nice. I wonder what happened in Chicago...Do you know why she's back here? Or how long she's gonna be staying in town--"

"You sound like my fucking mother--give it a break with the thirty-seven questions about Tara, damnit."

He snarled, heeding the distaste of his words the second she glowered at him.

"Excuse you?"

"I didn't call you out here for a sweet little conversation, Isla, I called you 'cause I need your help--"

"With what?"

Jax's hand hooked onto the back of his neck while he tilted his head to look upward, thinking of a way--any fucking way--to explain just what damn mess he'd found himself entwined with over the course of the last twenty-four hours.

He didn't know what to say or how to say it--if he should've fucking said it. He trusted Isla with his life--always had--but sometimes he appreciated that she mightn't have appreciated finding herself tangled within Jax's boisterous, at times frightening, life.

But it was too late for that. She'd been dragged through the deepest shit and wasn't crumbling that easily.

"Jax--"

"Kohn." He stated simply, waiting for the cogs of her brain to begin turning.

"What about him? You got in trouble with the ATF or something? Because we can handle that--"

"I already did." Jax laughed humorlessly, finally meeting Isla's line of sight.

The skin underneath his eyes was red raw, blotchy and irritated after he had used the sleeve of his hoodie to scrub away the tears he'd shed.

The tears he hadn't wanted to shed, but had fallen freely--uncontrollably--from those cerulean hues Isla never tired of looking at.

"What do you mean by that?" Nervously, she quizzed.

He didn't even have to say anything. She fucking knew. She knew exactly what he meant by that, but there was a tiny morsel of something within her that hoped and prayed that he'd declare that her gut feeling was wrong.

But he couldn't. Because it was right. Like always, Isla's intuition didn't fail her.

"Jax, honey, what did you do--"

"I killed Kohn."

[strawberrywritings]

Hiiii💕💕If I Could request a jax teller x reader with the promts 1 and 14!! Thank you so much for writning❤️❤️❤️

“I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”, “SHE WAS CRYING BECAUSE OF YOU!!!”

/ Masterlist

Everyone was drinking when Jax got inside the clubhouse, having gone for a ride by himself. It was mostly quiet, some of the guys were playing pool, and some were talking, but not the usual laughs or messing around. The prospect noticed him first, getting a beer and opening it, setting it on the counter for Jax. Then, some of the guys turned around, noticing him, and scowl immediately came upon their faces.

“She’s in your room”, Bobby said from his spot on the couch, his glasses on his nose as he was doing a crossword puzzle, not even bothering to look up at him. Jax was surprised, a sigh leaving his lips. After your fight a few hours ago, he thought you’d have left by now. He took a sip of his beer, “She okay?”. All eyes were on him, incredulous expressions of his brothers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? – Tig started, getting up and Juice readily got by his side, trying to hold the two men apart in case something happened – SHE WAS CRYING BECAUSE OF YOU! How is that okay?”, he let Juice pull him back, not taking his eyes off Jax. “We’re not letting this slide, even if you’re the President. You go in there and fix it”, Juice said, and Jax waited a beat before actually moving and making his way to his old dorm room. Knocking softly, he didn’t receive an answer, so he pushed the door open, finding you on the chair, staring blankly at the wall.

“Hey”, you snapped your head towards him, taking a deep breath before answering. “Hi”, you said, taking your gaze off him, afraid that you’d start crying again. “What are you still doing here?”, his words surprised you: they were void of emotions, but he almost sounded irritated. You shrugged your shoulders, “Where was I supposed to go?”. “Home”, he sat on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and raking a hand through his hair.

“I don’t get it. You reel me in and then you drop me like I’m some kind of object. Why? All those things you said… did you actually mean them?”, you asked. Just a few days ago, you spent the night with him and today he told you to stay away from him. “You don’t get it-”. “Then explain!”, you screamed, tired of all the games.

“I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”, he screamed back, and you were sure that his brother could hear everything perfectly. You stood there, frozen, as he started pacing back and forth, his hands rubbing his face. “Things are going to get messy, – he started – and I need you to be safe. Which is why you have to go away. Stay away from me, and from the club”, his voice was authoritative and you were starting to feel small, like a kid getting yelled at by his parents, but instead it was Jax. “Get out. And don’t come back”, he said, holding the door open for you to go.

You were in shock, you sat there frozen not knowing what to say. Once everything registered in your brain, you quickly got up and almost run out the room, your feet were carrying you out of that damn place without acknowledging anything or anyone, not even the questions his brothers asked you once they saw you crying.

“Hey!”. “Where are you going?”. “What’s going on?”.

Jax waited a few seconds before making his way back to the main room, where everyone else stood speechless. The questions flooded his years as soon as the Sons heard his footsteps. “What the fuck did you do?”, they asked, he didn’t even look at them as he poured himself three shots, for the three times he wanted to keep you in his arms and make you forget about everything else. He downed them one after the other, not paying any mind to the questions directed at him. “I did what’s best for her. She deserves better”, he muttered, only to be met by Chib’s disapproving face, he was shaking his head with his arms crossed on his chest.

Jax only wanted the best for you.

taglist @naytraydr @scuzmunkie @ifoundmyhappythought @starrynite7114 @my-rosegold-soul @sheeshgivemeabreak @brattyfics @blessedboo @peaches007 @gemini0410 @onmyspookysblock @saturnsaree @ly--canthrope @enamoured-x @chibsytelford @rebel-without-cause-x @general-tiny-mouse @sadeyesgf @cocotheclown @elcococruz @woahitslucyylu @losolvidad0s @angelreyesgirl @imagineredwood @cind-in-real-life @soaronmywings @samcrobae @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @thesandbeneathmytoes @everyhowlmarksthedead @justahopelessssromantic @blackmissfrizzle @thickemadame @mrsjaxtellerfan @wrcn9fvlcver @danie1432 @thewarriorprincessxo @mycupoffanfictionreads @krysiewithak @destynelseclipsa @noz4a2 @marvelmaree

[moon--vixen]

Today, June 28th 2019 around noon, my baby boy Kit passed away in my arms. He was 17 human years old, 95 cat years old. He outlived his kidneys, but he hung on for two days, so we could prepare and give him the end he deserved.

Today, I’d like to share the life of the little angel that changed mine forever.

Some time in October 2002, when I was 9 years old, my Mother and I walked into a pet store we’d never been to before, and right at the front doors was a large cage holding one mother cat and a full litter of kittens, all around 5 months old.

The one little black kitten caught my eye, and in that instant I knew. I knew he was meant to be mine. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I begged my Mother to let me hold him, and she eventually agreed. The store clerk opened the door and let me pick him up, and he instantly melted in my arms, and completely stole my heart. He was completely and utterly relaxed, and even though I was a complete stranger, he was completely at peace letting me cradle him in my arms like a baby, looking up at me with the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen.

I knew in that moment that I couldn’t leave the store without him. I just couldn’t. I begged my Mother to let me have him, but she worried about the logistics of introducing two cats in a very cramped two bedroom apartment that already had 3 people and a 2 year old cat that was notorious for not liking other animals.

She eventually forced me to leave him behind for the night, assured by the store clerks that he would still be there tomorrow. I spent the rest of the day making my case. He’s a black cat, we love black cats. His (temporary) name is Uncle Fester, Wednesday and Morticia Addams were my role models and the Addams Family movies were our favorites to watch around Halloween, alongside Hocus Pocus. And once I pointed out to her how he let me hold him, how relaxed he was, she too was convinced, and it was time to tackle convincing Dad.

But that too didn’t take long. He captured all our hearts, and the next day I walked out of the store with my sweet boy, whom we renamed Kit, after the witches’ familiar from the TV show Charmed. A name I very quickly came to love and took as my own nickname, leading to many funny looks when I would talk about him.

One of the first things we did upon getting him home was give him a bath. The cage he had been in was small, but tall, but it seemed only the mother cat ever left the bottom half. Holding a litter of at least 8 kittens, there was only one small litter box and one food and water bowl. My sweet baby had poop dried on the end of his tail and old food all over his feet.

He didn’t mind the bath. He was so curious about the water, and even played with it, splashing around in it and exploring.

Our other cat, Tiggeriss, knew something was up, and she clawed and hissed at the door. It seemed Mother’s worries were well founded. We couldn’t keep them apart. He was curious about her, and she, the Queen Bee of the house, demanded loudly to be made aware of who had entered her kingdom.

We couldn’t get in or out without them trying to dart in or out. Eventually, we put him back in the carrier and brought it into the tiny living room. Tiggeriss was on it in a second, sniffing wildly. I opened the carrier and he walked straight out, innocent little boy that he was. but in that moment, magic happened.

She hissed at him, and in an instant he plopped over onto his side and exposed his belly to her, submitting to her completely. She sniffed him for a bit, and began giving him a bath.

20 minutes later, they were curled up together taking a nap, like they’d known each other their whole lives. Inseparable, as they’d be for the next 17 years.

He fit into our family perfectly, though it still took some adjusting. We had a black mat at the front door, and often on our way out we’d see nothing but two little green eyes looking back at us, the void swallowing the rest of him whole.

Tiggeriss was still always the Queen Bee, but she clearly considered him her son and treated him as such. When they’d eat, she’d let him have any extra of hers he wanted. When we tried playing with her, all strategic and allowing her to track and hunt the toy, he’d come plowing in like the silly little kitten he was and go nuts.

But it also went the other way. Tig hates car rides, panicking every time we have to take her somewhere. She’d scream and yowl and pace around the car staring out every winder desperate for an escape. But Kit? He was as calm as he ever was. On trips where we’d have to hit the highway he’d get a little car sick at first, but otherwise he stayed calm, and that in turn kept her calm.

We moved into a nice house, and bought them a brand new large scratching post, one twice as tall as I was, and almost still is. They loved it, of course. and it still sits beside me as I write this now, showing all the love it’s gotten for the last 17 years.

He was the snuggliest, most affectionate baby. His relaxed and trusting nature never wavered, even around rowdy children. My friends dubbed him “Mush”, for how he would just melt in your arms without a care in the world, and “Mr. Underfoot” for how he’d always follow you around, and constantly be “underfoot” and in the way, just to be around you more.

And he was always, so, so curious. Always wanting to discover new things, new smells, new experiences. Seemingly he’d forget about his exciting adventures the year before, so every winter he’d discover snow all over again.

He became our wonderful Halloween cat, always enjoying being outside and seeing all the kids coming around with us. Sometimes it’d get to be a bit overwhelming, but he’d still enjoy sitting inside the glass door and watching. He was the best living Halloween decoration we ever had.

My Father, who always claimed to dislike cats and felt dogs were so much better, warmed up to him very quickly, deciding Kit was his cat. We would playfully argue about it often, fighting over who got to lay claim to the cat he didn’t want in the first place.

His days were spent ether on Dad’s bed, my bed, or at the foot of my recliner, snuggling with my feet or in my lap, when he wasn’t playing with one of us or Tig.

He was the most loving cat you’d ever meet. I was always horribly bullied in school. I always assumed that if my classmates themselves didn’t kill me, the stress would. I never bothered to think about my future because I assumed I’d never have one. I had resigned myself to a short life, but then I’d come home to his squeaky little meow, the meow that never deepened no matter how old he got because he was neutered a little too early. And I knew I’d be ok. I had to be. I couldn’t leave him behind. He needed me and loved me and I refused to die on him or Tiggeriss, no matter how bad things got.

Because I knew, as soon as I looked into his eyes, those eyes that loved me unconditionally, who didn’t care about me being gay, or my terrible pimples, who didn’t think I was stupid and ugly and worthless, and I knew that was all that mattered. HE was all that mattered.

Those big, beautiful green eyes, gems adorning the velveteen little rumbling furnace that was our beloved never ending ball of fluff.

In fact, we even got a very nice, fancy comb we were warned was so good it was known to cause a balled spot if we combed him in the same spot too much.

We tried once, just to see if we could. We never made a single dent in his fur, no matter how hard we tried.

And his fur was the softest thing I’ve ever felt. It was like owning a large chinchilla, lost in the void of a starless night. Soft, and shiny, with a rumbling motor boat underneath that you could hear from the other side of the room, especially when he got chin scritches, his favorite place for affection.

Once he hit late adulthood, he developed arthritis. It became hard for him to walk and climb, which meant he spent more time snuggling with one of us than he did playing and exploring anymore, but he seemed to get just as much comfort out of it as we did. He always knew when one of us needed a snuggle, like when I got home after having my wisdom teeth removed. I crashed in my chair instantly, but according to Mom, he climbed right up with me and curled up under my arm and napped with me all day.

No matter how much changed as he aged, how active he was, how well he could walk, how aware he was of himself and his surroundings, some things never changed.

He still loved making things difficult because he just wanted to be close to you,

He still loved lying in the sun and munching on the grass just outside our home,

He and Tig would still climb all over me when morning rolled around and they were hungry,

He still loved his favorite spot next to me on my bed,

And snuggling with his loved ones. Even on his last days.

He knew the end was near. When we took him to the emergency vet, she said she was shocked he was still alive, as he was in such bad shape he could go at any moment. He could have just as easily died the night before, but he hung on. He hung on one more night for us. So we could prepare, so I could have one more night with him in my arms. Just one more night.

And there is nothing in the world I am more thankful for than him, and the love he showed me for the last 17 years.

Rest in peace my angel.

You will forever be loved, and never, ever forgotten.

[inkybinkyboink]

currently going through some bullshit with a roommate who owes me a months rent. also currently in the process of weaning myself off of self medicating because i know that i need to be better to myself for myself. december kind of sucked and im glad it's january but jesus christ i cant wait to go back to work so i can make up for some of the lost money. this isnt a post asking for help, im writing this as a note to myself that once things are a little more steady, im going to buy flowers for the kitchen table, and ice grips for my shoes so i can go hiking in the winter. im gonna get new headphone pads and a speaker for my car because my aux chord stopped working. this year im going to try and knit things just for myself, and i wanna read more. i know people say this every year and its hard to uphold but i wanna be better, man. im tired of this not taking care of yourself for the aesthetic bullshit. fuck, dude, i swear, it will be better.

[lilflowerpot]

Traditional Galra Courtship

So today is the anniversary of this blog’s creation, and in celebration of that (a year! a full year of me just screaming my heart out into the void!) I decided that I’d rifle through my very oldest posts and expand upon everyone’s favourite topic: courting behaviour within the Empire. I’d still recommend reading the original post if you haven't already, because I’m not going to reiterate what’s been said in great detail, but I really wanted to explore it further because this AU and all its worldbuidling has, of course, continued to evolve since I first spoke about imperial courtship, so I feel like I actually have a decent amount more to contribute now. That being said...

Exploration: the very first stages of Galra courtship aren’t all that different to its human counterpart; things typically start off light, playful, flirtatious, and as young Galra are renown for being restless the participants will usually bond through some sort of physical activity, with sparring being the most traditional form. There’s nothing inherently romantic about this first stage, but combat (particularly when unarmed) breeds closeness, and an interested party might use this time to assess not only the strength and strategy possessed by their partner, but whether or not they fight with honour.

Physical Intimacy: though the degree to which this applies is very much up to individual preference, the Galra as a people are incredibly sex-positive, and culturally have a really healthy relationship with sexual expression. As an aggressively social species, physical affection and intimacy are important to their emotional development and well-being throughout their entire lives (which is why Galra do so poorly in isolation) and therefore young Galra are encouraged to have as many sexual partners as they please, both to learn what they do/don’t like, and to curb some of the pent-up aggression that comes with the territory of being an adolescent. Of course, not all physical intimacy is sexual, and one of the most popular Galra bonding activities is bathing together, where the individuals involved may take the time to pamper their partner(s) while exchanging stories of any battle-scars that will, of course, become visible to them during this process. It can be a very sweet and sensual experience, allowing for both parties to be physically and emotionally vulnerable with one another.

Initiation: to formally initiate courtship, the interested party would traditionally offer their own blade (though technically it can be any weapon of choice) to the individual who they wish to pursue them. If accepted, the pursuer would be given a time limit - the most classically romantic form being dawn/dusk - by which point they would be expected to return said blade to the initiator’s sheath in a great game of cat-and-mouse; the pursuer is expected to prove their worth (strength, agility, tactical prowess) during the chase as it’s all built around the thrill of the hunt, but the pursued oughtn’t allow themselves to be caught too easily, as this might be an expression of their own weakness.

Once two Galra are established to be courting, they are not necessarily committed to monogamy; both can seek additional partners outside of this arrangement, because courtship is not considered an exclusive practice but rather a trial period of sorts, and if either of the involved parties wished to play what I will now affectionately refer to as “knife-tig” with another, then they are well within their rights to do so (just as others are welcome to initiate knife-tig with an individual already involved in a courtship). What is not acceptable, and instead deemed highly inappropriate, is engaging in the aforementioned early explorative stages with other people, as this indicates you are not taking the courtship(s) you are presently engaged in seriously, and so disrespects your partner(s).

The most important tradition for courting Galra to honour is the exchange of three gifts to symbolise the past (one’s ancestry), present (one’s self), and future (one’s relationship with the other). It is not the material value of these gifts that is significant, but rather their emotional value.

Past: a gift symbolic of one’s lineage, as blood ties are so highly valued within the Empire. It may be a physical object, such as a family heirloom, or intangible, like a lullaby passed down through the generations.

Present: a gift symbolic of one’s self, a piece of their own being that their prospective partner might carry with them. The most valuable gifts of this variety are typically ones associated with a childhood memory as a formative aspect of the self that, in all likelihood, the recipient was not privy to.

Future: a gift symbolic of the involved parties as a unit, representing what they might become were they to commit to one another. This is traditionally a blade for the #aesthetic as it serves practical use as a weapon with which one may defend themselves, signifying strength, but additionally the craftsmanship can be either beautiful and delicate, or brutal and vicious, depending on what values are most important to the couple.

The culmination of Galra courtship comes to a head if all three gifts are accepted and reciprocated, though it is important to note that after this point there are some... questionable laws regarding the use of said gifted blade if ever the individual who gifted it disrespects / dishonors their partner to a significant degree, including castration as an acceptable response to betrayal. This law is not technically one the Galra people typically abide by, but at the same time it’s not not a legal and perfectly understandable action to take (and if they fail to defend themselves, then really, that’s on them). If the relationship comes to an end under more amiable circumstances - or, at the very least, less volatile ones - then the individuals involved might simply destroy the blades, or even return them to their partner if the relationship’s conclusion is a bittersweet one.

[cont]

[redhairedwolfwitch]

What Was Hope Doing In Your Dream? Legacies x Noralise!Daughter!Reader

Maybe I Should Start From The End

[B/m/n] = biological mother’s name

You went to sleep like any other normal night. Lights out, curtains and doors shut.

12:00am

You were lying on your back, right arm tucked under your pillow, left arm by your side. One leg sticking out of the covers and the other completely enshrouded in them. You jerked awake as you heard a scream. Pedro. You just groaned, rolling over and going back to sleep. Goddamn nightmares.

2:00am

Your arm dangled over the mattress into the void of darkness. Cheek pressed into the pillow as a light noise left your throat. The knocking on the door made you groan, looking up as the door opened.

“Hey, good morning. Dr Saltzman wants everyone downstairs.”

“Its 2am.” You groaned, throwing a pillow at Lock who just caught it.

“Who holds a meeting at 2am?” “Alaric Saltzman apparently.”

“Well it seems important...so...come on.” Lock chuckled flicking on your room lights making you yelp at the sudden brightness.

///

“Yesterday I came into the possession of another Malivore artifact. It was my hope to find a method of containment before it signaled another monster but given the emergency meeting I’ve just called I’m sure you can tell how well it went.”

“Didn’t you go with Dr Saltzman and Hope yesterday to get Landon?” Lock whispered to you but you just shrugged. “I can’t remember honestly. I think it’s the exhaustion.” You whispered back, tugging your dressing gown further around yourself.

“I think it’s more than just the exhaustion.” “You don’t say [b/m/n].” Mary Louise retorted sarcastically.

“Sheriff Donovan has been kind enough to open the doors of the Lockwood Mansion to us so Mr Williams and Ms Tig are now in the process of evacuating our students in the lower grades.” 

Lock paled drastically at the mention of the Lockwood Mansion. Long since empty due to the passing of Mayor Richard Lockwood, Mayor Carol Lockwood and Tyler Lockwood, her father.

“I forgot the founding families of Mystic Falls still exist.” “And Lock is the last Lockwood standing since all the others have been murdered somehow...”

“Exam week will continue as scheduled, wherever you are, I know. I’m sorry. I can’t exactly call the state accreditation board and tell them that we’re cancelling the exams because of monsters. We’ll get though this. I promise.” Alaric finished, exiting the hall.

“You going to evacuate?”

“I’m not leaving my bed. I’m too tired to evacuate and if I pack to evacuate like this, I’ll probably forget something.” You admitted to Lock who just nodded, following you up back to the dorms.

“Also we have like 4 exams in the morning so...goodnight.” You stated, smiling at Lock as she reached her room, returning the smile before you continued to your room. The corridors and areas of the school falling more quiet as students evacuated. You practically jumped into bed as you landed with a flump, covering yourself with all your blankets until you were cocooned.

///

4:00am

“What’s happening?” “I think she’s having a nightmare.”

You frowned in your sleep as you rolled over, landing uncomfortably in a car. “What the...” You mumbled eyes drifting from out of the window to the ones driving.

“Mumma? Mama?”

You stared in horror as the Phoenix Sword slammed into the car, catching Nora on the arm in the process.

“No, no, no, no, I don’t want to relive this, not again.” You whimpered, staring in horror as you watched your mothers began to chant and siphon the Phoenix Sword.

“There is no life without you.” “What about Y/n?”

“Oh god, there’s no time.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.” “No, no, no, wake up, wake the fuck up.”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT, BRING IT TO ME AND IT WILL STOP!”

“What the fuck!? I don’t know what you want, I don’t know!” You screamed as a cloaked figure grabbed you, pulling you from the car and forcing you to watch.

“YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT!” “NO I DON’T! NO!” You screamed louder as you watched, the car enshrouded in fiery orange and yellow sparks, black smoke choking you before you fell to your knees.

“NO!” You screamed, waking up in your bedroom in shock. A high pitched whimper escaped your lips as you turned on the lamp, eyes bursting with salty tears as your breathing increased.

“Y/n!”

“Mumma. Mama...” You whimpered wrapping your arms around yourself in attempt to hug yourself.

Nora whimpered as she tried to reach out to you, hand falling through your shoulder like it did every time as Mary Louise violently wiped at her tears. [B/m/n] stared in shock and horror at what had just happened, a bad feeling in her gut.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice crackled at your apology before you felt the wetness on your wrist. Blood. The red liquid escaping from a scratch.

///

7:00am

You had been up since 5am, running on caffeine and grief as you showered away your tears, writing in your journal until 7am.

Another emergency meeting apparently.

“Our latest monster is a Night Hag, a malevolent spirit trapped on the astral plain that can only interact with us through dreams. In this case, nightmares.”

“Well, in the sense that what happens to you in your dreams seems to also happen to your in real life, yes. But the good news is we’re safe so long as we stay awake. I’ve lined up more evacuation schedules. They should be running all afternoon, so please, for those who don’t want to stay and fight, take advantage of them. All right, that’s all.”

“That hag made Y/n relive your sacrifice... she blames herself for you two dying.” [B/m/n] realised causing Nora and Mary Louise to frown. “Why would she blame herself...” “Mary Lou, we were coming back for her when Rayna came after us...”

“She thinks that if we didn’t come back for her-” “You two may have made it out alive.” [B/m/n] affirmed.

“Come on, we’ve got an exam soon.” You mumbled to Lock who nodded.

“I don’t want to go to Lockwood Mansion.” She admitted after a while causing you to turn around. “Nobody’s forcing you to... it’s the memories and the what if’s, isn’t it?” You asked causing Lock to stop walking, looking down at her feet and fiddling with your fingers.

“I did the same thing with my mothers. I’d have nightmares about how they died and wonder what if they survived, what would have been different... I’d spend so much time thinking of what ifs that I lost track of reality... Lock... as much as everyone who has a traumatic past like ours wants to, we can’t change the past-”

“What if’s...” Nora whispered to herself, wondering if there was an alternate reality where she and Mary Louise had lived and raised you or even one where [B/m/n] had lived and raised her only child.

“I know it’s just... I’m the illegitimate child of a now deceased founding family of Mystic Falls, I don’t want anyone to find out because I’m going to have to deal with it all when I turn 18. Anyway... class is that way I think-” Lock replied, changing the subject. You frowned at this before you began to walk to the class.

///

4:00pm

“I am running on caffeine and spite.” Lock grumbled as she threw a revision card at you. Physics. Delightful.

“Same but instead of spite it’s grief. Pretty sure the Night Hag tried to kill me last night.” you admitted in your tired state causing Lock to look up from her textbook readings.

“What. Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, shoving the textbook to the side, now a lot more energetic than before.

“I was traumatised, bawling my eyes out at 4am over watching the same old scenes. My mothers in the car. The Phoenix Stone landing in the car, cutting Nora so Mary Louise began to siphon the sword. She wasn’t enough and was dying anyway from The Vampire Huntress’ blood... Nora started siphoning the sword too... saying there was no life without Mary Louise... they were coming back for me. One of my biggest what ifs is, if they didn’t come back for me, would they have not been caught by Rayna Cruz?” You admitted causing Lock’s eyes to soften.

Nora and Mary Louise exchanged blank looks, faces void of emotion but their eyes said it all. Broken despair.

“Y/n...”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, let’s just keep looking at Marxist explanations of social inequality.” 

“Okay...” Lock said apprehensively, eyebrows furrowed and eyes on your wrist where the Night Hag’s scratch was exposed.

///

“So MG has fallen asleep and I think Landon fell asleep during MG’s Dracula presentation apparently.” Lock mumbled to you as the two of you collected your batches of energy herbs to help you stay awake.

“Tastes like tea but it’s not tea.” You mumbled as you sipped the concoction with a slight grimace causing Lock to laugh, almost spluttering in hers.

“Please don’t make me laugh I don’t want to drink this stuff much, let alone spill it all over myself and smell of it all day.” Lock replied causing you to let out an amused breath.

“It doesn’t smell that bad, it’s just a little bit bitter.”

“Like Jed after Rafael beat him for the status of Alpha.” Lock replied causing you to raise an eyebrow. 

“Where is Rafael anyway?” You asked causing Lock to shrug.

“I think he saw more in his dream than he’s telling because he’s super awkward and avoiding everyone, especially Hope.” 

“Hope’s avoiding me and Landon too... do you think she knows something or is it Hope being Hope? I’ve known that girl since I was 7 yet even when I think I understand her, something else comes up.” You replied, waving your hands around in a dramatic shrug.

“Weren’t the crystals in your ring white?” Lock asked after a while, eyes locked on your fingers.

“The ring reacts to darkness... Malivore wiping memories made it react...” [B/m/n] realised causing Mary Louise to frown. “Just who was Angelo and why wasn’t he in some form of heaven?”

“He said he had a job to do.”

“Huh...that’s weird, I didn’t drop it in coffee this time either... I’ll look into it after we finish revising Infradian Rhythms.” You mumbled causing Lock to sigh.

“Periods and Seasonal Affective Disorder?”

“Yup.”

///

“A black-winged what?” Kaleb asked causing you to glance at him before looking at Hope and Landon.

“Shape-shifting dream demon.” They both said at the same time causing you to roll your eyes. “I know it sounds bad but now that we know what the creature is, we can fight it.” Hope stated making you frown.

“How are they supposed to fight that monstrosity?” “I have no bloody clue.”

“How the hell are we supposed to kill a dream demon?” Rafael enquired causing you to butt in. “What he said.”

“Leave that part to me. But since I can’t fall asleep without compromising the location of the urn, I need someone else to pull it out of the dream plain and into our waking reality.” Hope explained making Lock grimace.

“An urn nobody else remembers or remembers where it came from.” She whispered to you causing you to hum quietly.

“They’re getting suspicious at least.” Hope knows more than she’s letting on.” “You don’t think because she’s a tribrid that she remembers things Malivore wiped away do you?”

“No. I mean, I’m not going to ask all of you to stay for this, it has to be your choice.” Hope stated making you sigh.

“I’m not leaving unless Hope does.” Landon stated, standing up.

“We already know the answer to that so...” Hope sarcastically grumbled.

“I’m not leaving unless Lock does.” You replied causing Lock to jump up along side you. “What are you doing?” She whispered frantically to you. “You can go if you want.”

“Pulling a The 100 season 6 and facing my demons.”  You stated determinedly, crossing your arms at Lock’s expression.

“What’s The 100?” “Another tv show Y/n watched from 2014. She likes the women in it...” Nora and Mary Louise raised an eyebrow at that as [B/m/n] just smirked at what she had just said.

“I’m a founding member of the super squad so I can’t bail.” MG stated, standing up with a hand over his chest, proudly.

“Y’all going to get yourselves killed.”

“Then our parents can move on from their suffering of having to watch us deal with these monsters all the time.” You mumbled to yourself making Lock glare at you with a warning look in her eyes.

“She better not. She has so much to live for, a whole life ahead of her.” “I think it bothers her it’s a life without us.” “How could it not bother her?”

“But if MG stays, I stay. No child left behind.” Kaleb replied.

“In that case, it’s naptime.” Hope snarked causing you to roll your eyes.

///

10:00pm

“I have a tendency to move in my sleep so we are not hugging or anything because I will probably kick you in the face or something stupid.” You mumbled causing Lock to laugh. “That or I just end up scratching you since I have a weird habit of having t-rex arms in my sleep.” That made you laugh as you sat on the large floor mattress cushion.

“Oh god they are flirting.” Lock laughed as she glanced over at the doorway causing you to turn your head. “Because I wanted to see that before I face a dream demon in my nightmares...” You replied sarcastically, grabbing your pillow to put under your head. 

Turning onto your side, you slipped one hand under the pillow, the other dangling with your legs as one of your legs tilted up at 90 degrees, eyes shut to face Lock who was lying on her back with her arms crossed.

“Here we go...” [B/m/n] whispered to herself, Nora and Mary Louise watching in anticipating, your body was twitching and you were making weird noises as you slipped into REM sleep. Stage 5 of the sleep cycle. Ultradian rhythms.

A prickling of fear hit you as you woke up in the familiar scene.

“This is just a dream, there is nothing you can do, mumma and mama are already dead and have been for years-” You mumbled under your breath, glancing around.

“COME ON THEN! DO YOUR WORST!” you shouted before you heard that scream, looking to your right, the scene changed.

“Y/n?” 

“Lock? Oh hell no! You think using someone who is still alive will make me give up that urn?” You growled, realising you, Lock, Mary Louise and Nora were now in the car about to explode.

“Unlike the others she lives, but for how long? Everything you touch dies one way or another. Everyone you love dies.” The growl of the night hag made you glare.

“You say that but you’re not even in your true form.” You snarked, a smirk on your face.

“And neither are you, youngling.”

“W-what?” Your smirk dropped before you turned your head towards Nora and Mary Louise.

“I love you.” “I love you.”

“I’m too late.” You realised as the car exploded and you jerked awake in the real world.

///

“Hope? Hope!”

“Holy shit.” You mumbled, tugging you hand away from Lock’s as you awoke with hands outreached to each other. “Did they seriously reach for each other in their sleep?” “Yes, yes they did.”

“Are we alive, dude? Did we win?” MG asked, getting up off the floor.

“Hey, is everybody okay?” Rafael asked but you didn’t really react, getting up off the floor with self-hatred tugging at your feet.

“You see any dead dream demons laying around?” Kaleb replied sarcastically.

“Y/n? You okay?” Lock enquired, trying to meet your eyes that were trained on your hands. Your fingers trembled for a while before you pressed your hand onto the floor siphoning. You were the only witch left besides Hope. You needed to be ready. “Something’s wrong.” Nora realised, the blank look on your face causing her to pale slightly.

“Where is Hope?” Landon asked, distressed as heck.

“She was in my dream and then, I don’t know, she was gone.” Rafael stuttered making you look up with a frown.

“What was Hope doing in your dream?” You and Landon both asked at once as the ceiling lights began to shake.

“Holy nutterbutters.” Lock exclaimed loudly as the doors were blown apart and a winged creature was thrown through.

You began to chant under your breath as you spotted Hope, increasing the gravity around the demon to force it to stay on the ground as Hope lunged.

Hope was on top of the creature as you continued chanting, trying to force the creature to stop choking Hope with its clawed hand.

“Hope!” Alaric exclaimed as he ran in, throwing an arrow to Hope.

“Eyes!”

You gagged as Hope snapped the arrow in half, stabbing both halves into the creatures eyes, watching the creature fade into darkness.

///

A song echoed in your head as you and Lock followed the others from the gym.

“And now my favourite colour is blue...”

///

Standing in the middle of your room, all you felt was emptiness. Glancing around as memories filled you. Sleeping in between Nora and Mary Louise because nobody knew how to build a cot. Nora reading you stories and poems like her favourite, The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd. You remembered as a baby how [B/m/n] would sing one specific lullaby to calm you to sleep. You remembered Valerie taking you away from Mystic Falls after all that had happened. You also remembered Valerie leaving you at the school. Everyone you loved leaves you somehow. Hope and Lock were in danger. The twins were in danger.

“Where do we go, when it’s all over...” You sung quietly to yourself, glancing at yourself in the mirror. Just what did that monster mean when it said you weren’t in your true form?

“Y/n...” “Oh baby girl... I wish we could help her.”

There’s a World Where All Your Dreams Came True

[hypomone535]

truth

The lonely halls are quiet, depleted, and mourning.

Tasting like ash, the smell of dirty ruin fills the day making the castle feel empty. And it is, like a tomb of ghosts, scattering Winterfell with used up faces and haunted eyes.  

Tomorrow, when dawn awakens over winter, they’ll gather to burn the dead.  Today’s light was used to stack the bodies and find those they’d loved.  Lyanna. Jorah.  Theon.  Edd.

Jon hates today but tomorrow he hates even more.

A shifting log pops in the hearth when the gentle rap shakes the door.  Remarkably, awfully, fully- Jon watches the violent curl of the flame, his gut quickening in heated response.  A sudden ache to know his mother adds to his grief and he instantly looks down at his hands.  He doesn’t recognize his hands.

“Jon?”

The door swings inward, her tall frame filling his sight, breaking apart his thoughts.  Looking to the whisper, he avoids the drag of her deep eyes.  Bereft from the events of the day, his brow scrunches down hard and his mouth sits in a firm line.  Not knowing what to feel, he looks down at his hands.  They come together in front of him forming a tight knot of twisted fingers.

“Can I come in?”

Those fingers drag over the outside of his palm but he nods, lonely and surrounded by the silence hoping for solitude but thirsty for something that has never passed between his lips.  Though in the light of this day, he isn’t sure if what he desires actually exists in this world.

She’s careful when she approaches him, her soft footsteps and long chain only making a subtle click.  No furs grace her elegant shoulders and he has a thought for the cloak she gifted him.

A part of him is glad it’s gone; he didn’t deserve to ever wear it.  However, the louder side of him mourns, the weight of it on his shoulders painfully absent. It was always a constant reminder of who he was, and even more because she was the one to say it. And that part of him has gone too, hasn’t it?  His identify dismantled by the truth.

“Are you alright?” Sansa speaks directly, her kindness still in the proper place as she looks over him.  “That cut?” She points to the one below his eye, “Has the maester seen it?”

“Dead.” He grunts out like a stupid oaf.  “He’s dead, I mean.  Sam’s the closest we have to a maester now.”

Eyes traveling down, her pink lips part and she steps forward completely into his room and shuts the door.  Making a quick look around, it takes her a moment to find what she needs to satisfy her plan.  

Retrieving her supplies, she steps into his space.  The tip of cloth dips into a mug of water and Sansa smiles gently, “Will you let me?”

His hands unfurl and he shuffles his feet, but offers no other objections to her care. It turns out her hands are as delicate as her fingers are long.  While she cleans off the dried blood just below his eye, the small pinch settles between her brows.  She is focused in, dedicated to her task, and works without offering him a taste of her eyes…   Clenching his jaw, the spark that she exclusively kindles fills him now.

They stay like this for a moment with the fire and wind moaning a dirge for the recently departed.  She catches her bottom lip between her teeth and the action makes the flash ignite, tingling under his leather.  Instead of flexing into her touch he slightly flinches away from her, whatever madness that exists between them making his blood boil rather than settle.

It’s easy for her to sense, his moods and tactless mannerisms.  And she’s brave with him so there is no hesitation when she asks, “Won’t you tell me what you’re keeping from me?”  She brushes against his cheek again, the cloth light on his skin.

“I’m not your brother.”

It just pops out like a bad bite of fruit.  It tastes bitter and unfair and for a moment it’s so painful to say, that all he wants is for her to lament with him and feel his loss.

Yet this is Sansa.  And Sansa rarely reacts the way he wants.

Sansa frustrates him.

Before she has a chance to respond he can already feel his hackles rise higher.  The flares now flames, muscles quivering and his heartbeat pulsing unevenly.  In contrast, her face remains so calm, emotionless even and completely under control. Jon pulls in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring and releases it all in a huff.  

Looking down only briefly, her eyes sweep back up into his storm.  She licks her perfect lips, wetting them thoroughly and simply responds with a cocked head, “Aunt Lyanna and Rhaegar…”

His face must look incredulous because she doesn’t wait for his answer, “I heard Sam whispering something to Gilly and then we saw you on the green dragon and…” Her eyes flash as if he is riding one now and her voice drops resembling the howling wind, “It all makes terrible sense.”

When he swallows he pulls his eyes away from her, knowing he’s just confirmed her already keen suspicion.  And why wouldn’t she already know?

She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.

Speaking gently her monotone tenor stumbles and cracks on the last word, “You should have told me.”

More clouds cover his eyes and he knows she’s right, but her hurt makes his already edgy fingers drip with guilt.  The pitch sinks into his gut and he can hear the descent of his voice, “There was no time Sansa.”

A lonely wind screams again, the room suddenly feeling colder.  Sansa’s hands fall slightly and hover over his chest. Looking down she shifts to the side, her gray skirt brushing against his legs.  He can’t take his eyes away from her, still trying to determine what she thinks about the truth he so carelessly laid at her feet.

“Davos and Varys today in the Great Hall?” She asks the question as if she was simply speaking about which food he would prefer.  

He grinds his teeth in the face of her calm, “What about it?”

“They were talking about a union to unite the North and South.  Did they mean you and Daenerys?” She puts the cloth on the side of his face, holding his cheek and waiting for his reply.

Suddenly the room is so warm and she is so soft, he steps forward so full of regret. The leather on his chest must be squeezing the life from him, because he can’t breathe. “Maybe they did, but I won’t,” he manages to whisper.  “I can’t.”

Now the look comes across her face, his failure to mask his anger seeps into her, affecting her own breath.  “So what happens afterward?” Her chin rises slightly, “When the wars are won?”

He can do nothing but shrug his shoulders, and her hand falls away.  The relief is instant and he sucks in a sharp breath, “I’m afraid to think about it.”

With a small curve of her lips her hands fall and rest against his chest.  She looks down and examines her hands on his body. “You’ve been consumed with this war for so long,” her voice softens a sunset pink setting on her cheeks.  “You deserve a little rest.”  

Warmth stirs, trembling out over his body.  Lips parting, he feels her step closer, his already heightened senses opening up the abyss of all his suppressed longings.  He thinks she grabs his leather but he can’t tell because all he feels are the confident words that sound like madness and delicious sin.

“We could marry now.”

Falling into the chasm, his head spins; his fists open and close pumping at his sides. The look on her face is glowing, inviting and filled with an eagerness his body could match readily.  He practiced for so long his body unable to thwart its training and instead just reacts to his suppression.  Falling back into his pattern with her, he lets the look infuriate him, and he knows he will regret it as soon as he opens his mouth but he can’t breathe with her so close so he just whispers, “Did you learn that from Cersei too?”  

A wave of something breaks over her face but it is only there a moment.  Almost instantly her mask is back and her brow hardens but her eyes fill with tears.

In his gut, the shame burns hot and fast.  Around his neck his gorget is a vice, choking the life out of him, though it is what he deserves.

Releasing a breath, she takes a step away, her face impossibly serene and just stares.

It hinders his rejection, her reserve and calm when he’s just spit in her face. “I’m sorry,” he says honestly despite the edge still present in his voice.

“So am I,” she agrees with narrowed eyes. She connects her wrists behind her back and tilts her head, “I was so sure…” Swallowed up in a whimper that he knows would shame her, the rest of her words never meet the air.

He can’t just leave it there, his body slowly waking up from months of averted desires expressed as annoyed exasperation.  So he stutters out something that sounds like a whine, “What were you sure about?”

That gentle curve of her lips is back, and she releases her hands from behind her back. Eyeing him from heavy eyes she speaks softly, “I don’t have a sword Jon… Or a dagger.  I don’t have powers to see the past.  But I do have the name Stark and I would give it to you.”

A rattled breath leaves him, shaking his chest and he doesn’t know if its relief, or guilt or joy that makes him ache.  But longing for this unimaginable truth begins to burn away his anger and his hands fall loose from their tight grip, hovering at his sides.  Her hips are inches away and he wants to grab them but he’s not brave enough, not like her.  And so he looks down, and sees his battle scarred fingers.  Are they Stark hands or Targaryen? The world blurs again, thinking about everything else that surrounds them.  

“I can’t take it,” he hears himself croak, but he doesn’t mean it.  How could he mean it?

The fire reflects off the glass in her eyes, now suddenly far away.  “I understand,” she says with more kindness than he deserves. Her hands flutter aimlessly and she steps back, “Of course you can’t.”

When she turns away, it’s smooth and void of any malice.  Slumping slightly, her shoulders sag and he hates the distance between them, lengthening, tearing him in pieces from the inside out.

“Wait.”

She stops when she hears the pleading in his voice and he stares at her back for several heartbeats.  His own blood stirs as the walls of his solar seem to close in tight around them.  Why shouldn’t he?  

“Sansa…”

He doesn’t know who makes the first leap towards the other, but in a blistering flush of leather and wool he finds himself close to her again.  This time, his hand reaches out to her waist, and slides down over her hips, tugging their bodies together.  When they collide into each other, with a gasp from her pretty mouth and a groan from his throat, he is angry again but it’s the kind of insanity that makes a man burn and not strike.  So this time, instead of sharp words to hide behind, he softens too. Meeting her gaze, his eyes search this wonderful unspoken truth between them.  Their lips simultaneously part, sharing the air as the red seeps up from their necks and oozes onto cheekbones.

Weaving up his chest, her hands travel along his shoulder and hesitantly fall at the back of his neck, twisting in his curls.  The blues of her eyes are hushed; the sea pulling him under, “You fought for me once. Let me fight for you now.”

Just words, but precise and faithful, and they sound like the hope he needs.  Gently taking her lips, the darkness of today lightens and he has never tasted anything else so sweet.

Jon doesn’t hate tomorrow.

It sounds so complicated and so simple.

But the truth always is.

[samanthawells89]

White  Reaper Rising 12

Nothing could compare to the pain in his heart. Not even the pain that lingered for hours in his dick and balls.

Chibs stared at the ceiling while reclining in the old EZ-Boy in his dorm room. With one hand he caressed an old framed photo he found hidden away in his junk drawer during the last move. Despite everything, he could never bring himself to throw out anything connected to Juice. He even moved into the immaculately kept house instead of putting it on the market and pocketing the cash. He told himself it was pointless to pass up an opportunity to get out of his shitty rental while housing options were still limited in Charming.

A soft knock broke his reflection. “Come in,” he grunted softly.

Joseph Rosen, dressed in a pressed charcoal gray suit, entered the room. He had more brown than gray in his hair, but that would not be for much longer. After the Jax’s death, he worked himself to the bone to do damage control. So many people had to be kept out of jail. On top of that, he dealt with Juice’s estate and burial. He picked a shady little spot out of sight of the SAMCRO plot.

“You are going to have a battle on your hands regarding the house.” Rosen did not sugarcoat things.

“Because Juice is back from the dead.”

“Yes.” Rosen pulled out some manilla folders. “You were his sole heir apart from five thousand willed to his sister. There was a no contest stipulation so she risked getting nothing by challenging. As far as I can tell you haven’t used or gotten rid of anything apart from the house.”

“It’s a nice house and already paid off.” He countered.

The lawyer sighed. “The court is recognizing that the child is Juan Carlos Ortiz. They might void his death certificate, which would put all the assets back into his or the hands of a guardian. This is all new ground. The others did not have any estates.”

Chibs leaned forward. “What do you suggest?”

Rosen pulled out a newer folder. “I have a custody petition ready to go. You were his emergency contact, heir, amongst other things. I can provide strong evidence that he would have wanted you to be responsible for him in the case of incapacitation.”

“What about his biological father?”

“No previous relationship.” Rosen seemed like he was trying to convince himself that it was doable. “We can argue that they never met, so he would not remember a father. He might remember an old friend.”

“Friends don’t punch friends in the dick.”

A smile tugged at his lips. It seemed like everyone in town had seen the video. The lawyer pulled out the last folder.

“If you don’t, I will seek custody.” He announced. “I was the second choice for making legal and medical decisions.”

A light bulb flashed on in his mind. “I always thought you and Anthony would adopt a Korean baby.”

“There are many children who need homes here.” Rosen remarked. “John always had plenty to say about people talked about going overseas to do good while your neighbor suffered.”

Sometimes Chibs forgot how much the late John Teller meant to people who did not wear the kutte. Joseph Rosen had grown up in an era not known for tolerance, much less acceptance. A sixteen year old had run afoul of a NORD by dating said NORD’s younger brother. Two NORDS came to Charming to do some “correction”. J.T. and Otto had witnessed the beginning of a very unequal fight. Needless to say St. Thomas got two patients who could not recall how they ended up with broken legs. The twiggy sixteen year old bulked up due to boxing lessons, went to law school, and agreed to be the club’s lawyer upon graduation. The NORD’s younger brother gave the finger to his racist family, went to nursing school, and married Rosen upon legalization. All because two Vietnam veterans and outlaw bikers decided to help another outsider.

“We talked about naming our first child named John.”

“Chibs!” Tig shouted from the lot. The president and the lawyer rushed out to see the chaos that a small army of SWAT, federal agents, and local police had rammed the gate open. Leading the charge was a tall man with longish hair and wearing motorcycle gear.

“Where is he?” Lincoln Potter screamed, his face red and contorted in rage.

[squiddtheekidd]

Gonna put this weird babble under a read more cause is just kinda screaming into the void and idk who wants to read that lol

I’ve been in a long journey to love my body and I’m much better about it but oh my god do i wish i had small boobs and a bigger ass so i could dress more androgynous like i would prefer. My tig ole bitties just get in the way 😩

[everasrealm]

THE DEEP VOID

The halfling was standing there idle in a pool of black water. Her image was reflected up against her as if there was a light source coming from around this dimension but she could see no lamp, no fire, and no sun. All around Kithri was an empty void. No matter which way she ran, she was in a blanket of darkness. Fear mixed with dread set in when she finally spoke, “Trygve?”

Her voice echoed and verberated in the still silence. Sometimes it grew loud, sometimes distant but then faded into nothingness.

“Well, hello little one,” a voice chimed in and out through the silence.

“Who are you?” Kithri shouted out, “show yourself!”

The voice in the pitch black gave a deep laugh, “I’m already here. I’m all around you.”

It felt as if the void grew colder and the water from the ground started to soak into her clothes. The voice was almost far away like her echo, but also right at her ear as if it was speaking directly into it. 

“My sweet Kithri, what have you done?”

"You didn't answer my question; who are you," Kithri called out into the void, her hand trembling slightly as she reached down to touch her staff.

“The people of your world call me the Entity,” the voice carried around her as if whatever was making the sounds flew around her in circles. “I had a body once but I gave it up for something far more interesting.”

A figure appeared from the black curtains and was illuminated just as Kithri was. He was bald with a severe looking face. Only a moment flashed by before Tenzin’s appearance shaped in front of her. “I can take on this form, he seems to have a big place in your life.”

Kithri took a step back, the words stumbling out of her mouth, "I didn't come here for magic tricks. I came searching for a friend. Where is he?"

The entity walked past Kithri and a scene laid out. It was the dojo, back at the monastery. Only in this version, everything was off. Where the dummies normally were put, nightmarish versions of herself stood. The entity stood between two of them and looked towards Kithri, but not directly at her. 

“You came to speak with someone who isn’t here. How very foolish of you,” the entity spoke. “And since you were trying to manifest something that simply does not exist here, your subconscious is now lost in my realm. I do say, it is quite tasty.”

She looked around, trying to swallow the panic swelling inside of her. "No, he has to be here. We watched him die and the person who came back...its not Tryg."

“Hmm,” the voice hummed. “Souls depart the real world often and are reincarnated into better versions of themselves all the time. Take for instance the phoenix. It bursts into flames when it’s body is no longer needed and is born again from the ashes. ” The entity glides between the dummies and stops at the doorway to the next room. “Your friend was here, but he found a way out.”

"He found a way...wait why are you telling me there is a way if you don't want me to leave." She unfolded her staff, eyes fixed on the figure of Tenzin but wasn't, "Who sent that mushroom? Was it you?"

“I’d love for you to stay, I can show you anything you want to see, tell you anything you want to know,” Tenzin stares blankly towards her. “There is a way to leave, but most stay here with me. They find that it’s much easier to stay than go back and face their problems in the real world.”

He sighs and glides towards Kithri with ease. “I didn’t send you anything.” 

"I...don't like what you're insinuating.  I don't need a place to escape my problem. I am not a coward. What do you mean you can tell me anything?"

“Anything, Kithri,” the entity glides back over to the door and disappears into the blackness. Slowly, the shadowy dojo starts to collapse in on itself as darkness consumes it. “Is there anything you’ve ever wanted to know? Maybe about your parents dying and how Tenzin was the one who ordered it?” The entity's voice fades as it gets farther away from you. “I know all about you.”

Kithri found her feet running toward the door before she could even comprehend how stupid it was. Her voice shook as she entered the darkness after the Entity, " Leave Tenzin and my parents out of this. How can I trust everything you say is true? How do I know it all isn't a trap to keep me here?"

“You don’t,” says the entity. As they both head down a long hallway, they pass pictures, or windows, that look out onto different scenes of Kithri’s life. The entity stops before one of the frames and turns ever so eerily towards Kithri.

“You don’t have to believe anything I say. In fact, I will leave you alone to your thoughts if you want me to. But like a spider stalking its prey, I’ll be watching you from my web.”

The entity peers into one of the windows and a scene before them plays out. It’s a young halfling girl sitting at home with her parents. A fire is on and a bubbling soup is being made by the mother. This child is Kithri, playing happily with her little toys.

“Ahh, a fond memory. It’s barely even touched. It tastes so sweet. You must have repressed this one, or perhaps you were too young to remember. I do love it when a memory is forgotten about. It marinates in their head and so delectable when I pluck it.”

Kithri brought a shaking hand up to her mouth as she observed the scene, the child who was unmistakably her, the man and the woman. The same figure she saw weeks ago when Yuna showed herself to the group. "Stop this. I don’t want to see any of this. What do you want with me?" Kithri couldn't help the crack in her voice as she spoke, turning to the Entity, the full terror of what was before her starting to sink in.

“I want to feed on you Kithri. And you’re so full of anger and resentment for such a small little one, I could live off of you for weeks,” the entity's face changes to a darker, much more horrific looking face. Almost as if its skin has hardened and turned to a shade of gray clay, most of its distinguishable features deteriorate and the place where its eyes should be is just two glowing dots. It wears a tattered robe and it’s long spindly legs hover a few inches off the ground. The entity cocks his head at Kithri and behind her in the frame are her two dead parents right at the glass peering in behind her. Their hands break through the glass and it sends Kithri plummeting below as the floor gives out. When she reaches the bottom, there is no broken glass or legs. It’s her, back in the Broken Wheel Tavern. A sink full of unwashed dishes stack up, waiting to be cleaned. In her hands are the plates and goblets, they are almost rubbed raw from the amount of cleaning she had done. 

“Oh, another spark of emotion I find here,” the entity strides around the kitchen.

“You were mourning something. A friend? Tell me a story, Kithri. I’m dying to know.”

She looked down at her hands, "Victor, I tried… I couldn't save him." Tears fell softly down her cheeks as she threw the dishes in her hands into the sink and turned to scream at the Entity to find herself alone. "These are private, get out of my head!" She ran out the door of the kitchen, into the main room and started heading toward the door.

“I cannot leave your head. I will always be there, but if alone is what you want,” the entity soothingly says. “Why not play with your friends?”

She reaches the door and the other side of it is Madame Leota’s room, only inside of the crystal ball is Terra’s decapitated head. Standing over the crystal ball is Evelyn, cackling maniacally. Her eyes are black, similar to the Void Evie back at Wakefield. “Terra really never saw you as a friend, more as a hot headed loser who only cares about themself. She’s been telling everyone how much you don’t belong with them. Soon they will all turn on you and you will be nothing more than a pathetic head for my collection!”

Evelyn laughs some more before Terra’s rotting head speaks “you’ll never be free, you’ll never be free,” she repeats until the door behind Kithri opens once more.

"Terra," the name escaped Kithri's lip as a whimper. She backed her way to the door, pulling on it, "No, none of this is real. Terra would never say those things. They… they would never do that. I want out of here!"

Kithri falls as the door opens and the rushing air passes through as if she is free falling through the clouds. Bits of her memories flash by and taunts from her childhood echo in her ears. 

“Stupid little girl!”

“You’ll never be free!”

“She’ll never be good enough!”

“Fucking halfing.”

Then it all disappears. She lands on the watery surface of the void. Her memories are gone, the moments in time fade. A figure appears, it’s Trgyve. Only in this version, he is covered in blood and utterly naked. His fangs have been exaggerated and his eyes are red. He’s feasting on something. When she approaches, she notices it’s Sera , cold and lifeless.

Suddenly, her arm reaches up, “help me” comes out of her mouth. Trygve goes in for the kill and he disappears into nothingness before she hears in Trygve’s voice: “she tasted so good.” 

The entity reappears. “Oh dear, what a monster. Looks like all he wants to do is feed on you too. How can you trust a beast like that? Not to mention your other friend, looks like she’s here to play too.”

A furious roar sounds from behind Kithri. It’s an enlarged tiger with dripping fangs and matted fur. It’s Shin and she’s ready to pounce. 

Kithri's heart was beating so fast she thought it might leap from her chest and any second. "They aren't beasts or monsters," she growled towards the Entity as she tried to avoid looking at Sera's mangled body. Head down, she spoke in as calm, but strong of a voice as she could muster, "Tryg...isnt a monster. None of this is what he wanted, he doesn’t have control over it sometimes." She then turned to Shin, tears falling  from her face,"Shin… it's me Kithri. We are friends. You know this; and I know you won't hurt me. I know you're in there. Don't let it control you."

Shin’s deafening roar reverberates through the void and sends ripples across the shallow pool of water. The tiger does not lunge at Kithri’s throat, it disappears, leaving her alone once more. 

Black columns rise out of the water and extend into the abyss above. The center column, a spectral version of Willa stands facing away from you. “My father is dead. I could have saved him,” she says. She turns towards Kithri, eyes blacked out and bleeding. “You could have died with your parents too. I wish I did. That way I won’t have to be so alone. Won’t you kill me Kithri? Kill me so I can stop suffering.” Will leaps at Kithri but just as she’s about to hit her, she melts into a puddle. 

The intensity of these visions and moments of Kithri’s life are coming faster and quicker. There’s no telling how quickly, or slowly, time is moving. Have minutes gone by? Or days? Maybe even years? 

The entity then sits crossed legged in the reflection pool of the void. “Sit,” it offers. 

Kithri falls to her knees sobbing, small, breathless whispers the only thing she could manage out, "I...I can't...please stop."

The entity looks less clay like and more… human, or at least fae like. It’s almost as if when Kithri first saw it, the entity was a husk, ready to be shaped. Now, it looked less hungry and more “full”. 

“Only you can make it all stop, Kithri.” The entity still sits, looking at the defeated haling before them. “Your emotions get the best of you and it makes you weak; vulnerable to my attempts. Someone in the real world is working to save you, I can sense it. Help will come to you, but you have to do it. I’m afraid you're too weak to leave me. I’ve fed on many creatures who have wandered into my realm. Yours by far filled me up. I will leave you alone now so I can rest. And so that you can build your strength back and I can feed once more.”

"You said," Kithri managed out, "That you could tell me anything I wanted. How…how can I help my friends? Terra's powers, the WLF, what's happening to Tryg, Shin's condition… the darkness." Kithri struggled to her feet, shaking like a leaf with her hands clenched as she looked up at the Entity, "If I'm going to go through this hell, I am not leaving it empty handed."

The entity stopped moving and looked at Kithri. “Yes, I can tell you anything you want to know. For I cannot lie. It is the way of the fae,” the entity responds. 

He stops himself in front of Kithri, his beedy, glowing eyes staring into her very core. “You can help your friends by finding a way out. You can’t help them all, you’re not meant to. You need to stay here with me and rest. Yes, sleep here and rest, little one.”

The entity’s voice beckons Kithri like the sweet smell of apple pie to a starving raccoon. “I know not much of this WLF, they are good at avoiding my reach, but what I can tell you is someone came to the void once before asking about them. Her name was Ella. She found a way out of my realm and said she was going to find them once she found a way out of here. She too was quite tasty. All those years of neglect and mistreatment. A tortured soul hellbent on revenge. Those are some of my favorite tastes.”

The entity paces and the void turns into something more corpreal than an endless blackness. It’s some sort of cavern, a large blue fire burns and the entity sits down on what looks to be a throne of bones. “I was once in Yuna’s court; she named me Obsidious. I was supposed to be the faery of dreams. But Oknos had a row with her and he claimed me for his own. Now I’m here, ruling over the void like it’s my own personal kingdom. I can use it to create memories of those who wander here. I know everything about those who enter the void. Their minds are so easy to pluck. Yours was the easiest in a long time. After witnessing the death of your vampire friend, that cracked you open like an oyster.”

Kithri could feel her eyes getting heavy, every cell in her body screaming for the relief of sleep. "So you are not part of the darkness?"

“You could say that my realm exists with the help of the Darkness, but also the Light. It’s normally the bridge between the living and the dead; as long as the living has a tether to the real world, they can return to their body. But if there’s no tether, it becomes a lost soul. That is what you have become. And I feed on them,” the entity kicks its feet up on the foot stool and relaxes a bit. He seems to be more at home and happy that Kithri is so willingly close to him. 

“Most people run and scream from me. I don’t blame them. I devour souls and worlds. But you, you actually listened and are asking questions… good.”

"Sera...Sera talked about balance. So did Xavier. Is this what you are talking about?" Ignoring the exhaustion throughout her body, she took one strained step towards him. "Am I still tethered enough to go back?"

“Yes. I have heard of Xavier and his cause and he makes sense. Yuna’s Light casts all over Everas and the Darkness is trapped beyond the veil. Why should the Light run free and the Dark have to hide?” the entity asks Kithri. 

“As for your tether, I would say that you have someone in the real world protecting you from falling deeper into the void. I can’t lie, I’ve tried hard but you’re strong for your size. But I also think you’re lucky. Someone in the real world wants you back and is trying hard to get you.”

"Maybe because when people think of the Dark this is what they imagine," she lifted a hand toward the void around her. As exhausted as she was, Kithri drew what small bit of strength she could from his words, the small hopeful truth in them. She took another step closer, shaking as she did and taking a deep breath, "I...I want to see what happened to them, my family… and then I want to see Tenzin response. No tricks or warping but the truth. I'm done running from it."

Obsidious raises his eyebrow, “I can show you, but you’re not going to like it. The Void is known to many people and they all have different names for it. I’ve heard Limbo be used, the Upside Down, and Ahtohallan among many other names. It’s true, it does take many forms, usually around those who enter it and it consumes their worst fears and nightmares. That is the design of this place.”

He sits up in his throne and rests his elbow on his knee and cups his chin with his hand. “Not many would venture too deep to find answers they are looking for is what I’m trying to say.. The Northuldra have a clever song written about the deep Void,” he starts to sing, “In her waters, deep and true, lie the answers and a path for you. Dive down deep into her sound, but not too far or you'll be drowned. Yes, she will sing to those who'll hear and in her song, all magic flows. But can you brave what you most fear? Can you face what the river knows?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

"From what you have seen of me, do you think the tether will hold? Do you think I'll make it through?"

“Kithri,” Obsidious gives a small chuckle. “I want to consume you until you are nothing but a husk. But I can’t imprison you. That’s my curse. You are the one who will have to bring yourself out of it. You are free to go at any moment you please, as long as you can find it in yourself to do so.”

Obsidious gets up and moves to the fire. He pulls something out of it, almost like a ghastly balloon. Kithri hears a faint wailing as he consumes it into his body. “Delectable. I’ve been saving that one for a while now.”

“As for this tether, I’m surprised it didn’t break when you followed me in here. If it hasn’t broken yet, I wouldn’t think it would now.”

Kithri took a deep breath, as she closed her eyes, trying to remember all of her friends, their smiles and thought of Tenzin. "I promise I'll make it through," she whispered so quietly to herself that it was almost a silent prayer. With one more shaky breath, she nodded towards the Entity.

“If you’re sure,” Obsidious says. He lifts his hand and a passageway opens, leading deeper into the Void. “I’d say good luck, but if you don’t make it out, your soul will be with me forever to feed on.”

Kithri stood to her full height. "If what you said is true and I have people who still want me then I don't need luck," she attempted to say confidently, though the moment the words left her mouth the words seemed hollow with uncertainty. One foot in front of the other she walked through the passage.

Down the steps, she descends deeper into nothingness until the steps stops and she’s in a room that looks like any normal home in the Imperial City, though this one is whispering in darkness. She sees two halflings stoking a fire, finishing up what seems to be a nice dinner of lo mein and steamed vegetables.

“I’ve just put her down, dear. She should sleep through the night.”

The man looks at his wife, “our precious little girl. I don’t know what we would do with out her.”

A knock at the door breaks their smiles. “Who is it?”

No one answers. Kithri’s father goes to check, but no one is standing on the other side.

“Who is it, Po?”

“Must have had the wrong house. No one was there.”

Then a crash happens, all the windows are broken and five men appear. Kithri’s mother screams but Po rushes to her side. “What is the meaning of this?”

“By order of the Emperor's Army, you are being sent in for questioning about the treasonous acts against the empire.”

“What do you mean? We have nothing to do with this, you’re making a mistake!” Kithri’s father says loudly. She knows where her anger must come from.

“Submit or we will execute you here.”

“Oh PO! Please listen to them!”

“NO, I won’t Lin! They have NO RIGHT to enter our home, we are not traitors!”

Someone comes to the door. “They are not the traitors, Teneko.”

The other man looks at him, “we have orders to kill them.”

“But they are not the ones!”

Kithri sees her parents whimper and her mother starts to cry. “Please don’t do this.”

“TENEKO, we have the wrong house. Let’s go.”

A moment passes. “No, they’ve seen too much. We can’t have them telling others about what happened. Kill them”

“NO!”

Kithri watches her parents be executed in front of her. The memory starts to fade around her, the stairs reappear, descending down once more. 

Kithri stood shaking, unable to peel her eyes away from where her parent bodies, cold and lifeless, had laid on the floor. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she pulled away, her body not falling feeling like her own as she continued down the stairs.

The next landing was Tenzin’s office. A group of soldiers are gathered around his desk. He looks very deep in thought and looked much younger.

“On whose orders were you told to give an innocent family?”

No one spoke. 

“Answer me, now.”

“Yours, sir. You told us to kill the traitors.”

Tenzin paces back and forth, something Kithri saw him do plenty of times, calculating his next words.

“I gave the orders to kill the traitors. I did NOT give the orders to kill innocents. You will turn over your sword and armor immediately and will bring dishonor to your names. Get out of my sight.”

“But sir,” another man speaks up. “There was a survivor.”

“What?”

“A child. We can only assume it was theirs.”

“Where is it now?”

“With the other women. We are going to call the temple to take her in. We can’t raise a child here.”

“Stop talking. Tell Mother Jule that I will be down to talk to her shortly. The child will stay with me. It is my duty to clean up your mess. The child will train here, become a warrior.”

“But sir, the child is female.”

He pauses. “Did I speak a different language, Teneko?”

“No sir. I will alert Mother Jule.”

The men leave and Tenzin sits down into his chair. He seems to be thinking again.

Moments pass and Mother Jule walks in with the child. Their conversation is muffled, the memory is not as clear. The baby is placed in Tenzin’s arms and the last bit of the memory is left with Tenzin saying “I will protect you from the evils of this world, little one. If its the last thing I do.”

Kithri walked tentatively toward Tenzin, afraid that this image would fade if she got too close. After a few steps, her knees gave out and she collapsed on the ground. She didn’t even attempt to stiffly the sobs that came out as she spoke, not caring that this Tenzin wouldn't hear her. "I… I blamed you...it was never your fault. I'm so sorry, Master. I was… I never made it easy for you… the fights… the resistances … the disrespect. It was all met with stern direction and patience and I accused you of pity." The sobs intensified till she could barely get out the words, "I… don't deserve any of it… I could never apologize enough…"

“Mm, that’s what I want to hear,” Obsidious took over the place of Tenzin and the office space turned back into his lair. “The sweet taste of sorrow. It’s sour, but sweet at the same time. Have you learned what you came for?”

Kithri's voice was raw as she closed her eyes tight, trying to hold onto the image of Tenzin, "What ended up happening to Teneko… is he still alive?"

“See for yourself, little one,” Obsidious points his long, spindly fingers towards another staircase, leading far down into the depths. “Though, have you ever heard the saying, curiosity killed the cat?”

"Don't call me that, " she snapped at Obsidious, something deep down breaking, flooding her with rage. She stood weakly and shaking as she continued down the stairs, the burning rage mixing with her shame and sorrow with each step.

Down, down, down the rabbit hole Kithri went, descending deeper into the very pits of the Void.

A memory begins to form, but it’s blurry. A man that looked like Teneko stands before another man. Teneko is down on one knee in front of the other man.

“My lord, I shall serve you with all of my strength.”

“Rise, Teneko.”

He rises before the other man.

“I want you to do something for me. I hear you’re good at killing people. I need you to kill a witch who has something that I need; a book. Her name is Fiona and she resides in Salem. Kill her and bring me the book.”

“Yes. I will do that. Thank you, my lord.”

“Welcome to the court.”

The memory fades and Kithri returns to the same place she started at the beginning of it all. A black, nothingness. 

“Now you’ve learned the truth and I sense you’re full of emotion. But now it’s time to submit to me, Kithri. Let me consume you.”