#we met as adults twelve years ago

[weaselle]

a few months ago my friend called me and told me she was moving back up near me from 7 hours south in the middle of nowhere and asked if i would help her because she couldn’t move the furniture by herself and the town was so small there was no moving company (there were actually only 5 or six businesses in the whole town including both restaurants) and she had no one else down there to ask. 

And even though money is pretty tight for her, she told me I could name my price if I would help her, because it was so far away.

I told her she was a dummy for thinking i would take her money but that i would accept the traditional helping-a-friend-move price: a meal (i know she would feel wrong about herself if she didn’t do something for me in return, that’s just how she is) Tradition suggests pizza and beer, we opted for enchiladas and a margarita.

we crashed on the floor of the empty place and left back north in the morning - when we got back to the city three more friends met us at her storage place (the place she was moving into wouldn’t be vacant for a couple months) and we started to move all her stuff up to a storage room on the THIRD FLOOR (because large city storage places be like that)

we had just taken the first box out of the truck when the (only) lady working there walked by and told us they closed in an hour and twenty minutes, and she couldn’t stay even a little late because she had to get to her other job.

One hour twenty minutes. To completely un-jenga a large uhaul and re-tetris it back into a similar sized room on the third floor.

We all just, shared a look, took off hoodies, and got the fuck down to business. 

It was actually.. I still cherish look we passed around. The tiny eyebrow quirks and chin nods. The eye glints. The bigger breath we each took as we prepared to kick it up several gears. That moment of wordless connection, when we all just silently agreed that we were damn well going to do the impossible and didn’t even waste the time it would take to say anything, just got to it.

And we did it too. Finished with exactly two full minutes to spare. And then we all went for dinner and drinks to celebrate. And my friend’s friends that came to help? Two of them were acquaintances/friends of mine already. Like I lived with one for a year a decade ago sort of thing. But this experience? Brought us all closer. Made myself a new friend too.

And the friend i helped move? She and I are closer than ever because of it.

When i left our storage success diner to go home, she asked me again if I was sure i wouldn’t take any money.

I said “I ever tell you when I was 22 I went down to Hollywood to try that scene out? Anyway ten months later, when I just couldn’t do it anymore, and needed to come back, I called one of my best friends and said i can’t do this anymore i need to come back. You know what he said? He said: I’ll be there tomorrow. Not how much will you pay me, not what do i get out of it, not will you be able to cover my gas, just: I’ll be there tomorrow. Okay? You’re my friend. If you need help, I’m going to be there”

If helping someone move ruins your friendship, you’re doing at least one of those two things very wrong.

[puzzled-pegasus]

Do you ever just think about how awful it is to be a demigod before you know about it?

I've been thinking about it a lot lately. How much demigod kids and teenagers don't fit in with mortal society. Their mortal parents don't know what to do with them, even if they do care for them immensely. They are labeled as troublemakers, as bad kids, as mentally ill, as freaks and monsters who see things they shouldn't see and have an aversion to authority that they shouldn't have and a strong sense of justice and an inability to sit still, read, play, act, feel normally. Percy got in trouble for getting into fights, for speaking impulsively, he was mocked and spoken down to and expelled from lots of schools who couldn't handle him and he didn't know why until he was twelve years old. Sally wasn't able to tell him why.

Annabeth was the product of her father's relationship with a goddess, and he loved her for a while, but she wasn't a normal kid. When he fell in love with a mortal and Annabeth didn't get along with her or her kids, he chose the mortal side. How could he understand Annabeth's side? She was just a badly behaved kid, while his new wife and children were the normal good ones.

Jason always knew he was a demigod, he was accepted and praised and tons of expectations were placed on him from a frighteningly young age. Part of the reason the others resent him and see him as a sort of golden child is because he was placed on a pedestal and he will never, ever know what it was like for all of his friends to be looked down on as children, to be scolded for things they didn't understand and told that the things they saw and experienced constantly were not real.

Piper was always loved by her father but I think he loved the idea of her, he loved that she reminded him of the beautiful woman he met years ago. He was always kind to her and usually gave her things she wanted, but he couldn't always spend time with her as his job got busier. Piper sensed that her father's attention was occupied by something else, and as he got busier, she felt less supported and stole things and got in fights and her dad didn't know what to do with her after the BMW so she was sent to a troubled teen program where she was bullied for her disabilities and her race.

Leo feared his power because it killed the person he loved the most, and after that, everything in his life was hell. He didn't feel safe anywhere, he didn't have anyone he could trust, and adults saw him as a troublemaker who would never amount to anything.

The books don't emphasize these things as much with any of the other demigods, or maybe Annabeth, Percy, Piper, and Leo are the best examples we have. I just. They're so tragic. They're all my children all of them. I love them and I feel so sad for them

[aloesarchives]

Can You Not? (JJK Oneshot)

Warnings: 18+ (jic), Suggestive adult content, Swearing, Female pronouns, Sexual touches but nothing too explicit, Toji being frisky and hella horny, Megumi cockblocks Toji, slight ooc Megumi, Megumi being a menace, the word ass being mentioned like 3 times.

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Megumi Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1943 words

Pronouns: She/Her

Au: Reader is Megumi’s mom, is alive and well, Toji is alive and good too lol, reader is also a sorcerer but doesn’t go on many missions since she had Megumi but helps around Jujutsu Tech.

(A/N: Lastest oneshot to post in a while. I have another work that will be releasd later, hopefully. This is my first work for Jujitsu Kaisen. I apologize for any mischaracterizations with the characters!)

[Has been edited and proofread as 11/18/23 8:43pm. Banner credit: @cafekitsune]

As always, please enjoy!

It wasn’t unusual to have the house to yourself. With Toji going out on missions, and Megumi being in school for most of the day, you often found yourself always being at home by yourself. During this time, you would run some errands, some chores, or even go out for a bit to get some fresh air. Though you loved your husband and son, you also loved some alone time and it wouldn’t hurt to have it once in a while. 

Today was a little different. Toji was on a solo mission to wipe out a few curses in a town that was far from the city. The estimated completion of the mission would take about two days because of the distance and how the curses terrorized the town individually instead of in groups. But Toji being Toji, he got the mission done within six hours. For a regular grade sorcerer, it would take at least twelve hours to deal with two of these curses as these would any normal sorcerer a difficult time. But Toji doesn’t play games when it means getting a hefty paycheck for the job. With Toji's lack of a curse technique, he seemingly made himself an easy target for the curses. So he was able to draw them one by one from the specific areas of their known sightings.

Once the fifth curse dropped dead, Toji’s paycheck was secured. After receiving it from a wealthy business owner, the one who called about the town’s situation, all Toji could think about was getting home to you. He did his best to clean himself up from the stains and fluids of the now deceased curses. But there was some remaining residue and a small pungent odor that he couldn’t get rid of. Toji knew he would have to shower at home but he didn’t care because he only really thought of coming home to you. After getting dropped off home, it was around 4:30pm and he just went inside. He hears your humming in the kitchen and sees you chopping away at some vegetables, which he assumes is for dinner. As you cut away and put them in the pot, Toji can’t help but admire you. The precision in your cuts and the focus on your face as you slide the vegetables into the pot. Ugh, to him, you looked so good. Just like how he met you all those years ago when he saw you fight, you still were as beautiful as when he first laid eyes on you. And frankly, Toji thought you looked delicious as well.

After a few moments, you suddenly felt eyes on you and swiftly turned your head to meet Toji as he started walking towards you. 

“Toji! You’re home! Earlier then I was told. I thought you wouldn’t be home for at least a day or so.”

“That’s what I thought too, but the curses weren’t bad. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Toji says nonchalant as he twists his head up to crack it.

“Oh okay, Mr. big shot. We get it, not all of us have superhuman strength and heightened senses.” You joked which caused Toji to smirk. But your laughter died down and was replaced by a warm smile. You looked at him as you placed a hand on his right cheek and caressed his lip scar with your thumb gently.

“But I’m glad you came home in one piece. Well, that’s what it at least looks like on the surface. You’re not hurt anywhere, are you? I know how you are when you hide your injuries from me, Toji.” Looking at him apprehensively. 

“No, trust me. I’m not hurt. The red stains on my clothes are not my blood anyway, Hon.” He says with sight sincerity as he leans into your hand and holds it in his own. He looks at you before suddenly wrapping his strong arms around you, causing you to suck in your breath in a little bit. 

“I just wanna come home to you. That’s all I ever wanted after today. The mission wasn’t hard but I’m tired and I only wanna come back to you and this life we have together.” Leaning his head on yours softly and he slowly rubs your sides up and down.

You hum at his actions and let him relish in this state. You’re no stranger to Toji’s cocky and somewhat condescending personality. It’s something you couldn’t forget about him ever since your first encounter with this man. But you grew fond of it over time, especially when he got vulnerable around you when he told you everything about him. Now, you couldn’t imagine your husband without his cocky smirk.

The both of you stayed like this for a bit before Toji decided he wanted to dip his toes in the water. As he slowly stops rubbing your sides, he wraps his arms around you again. This time, however, you felt his right hand behind your right shoulder and his left being placed on your lower lumbar region. He was caressing the areas, his left hand getting dangerously close to your ass. 

You knew where this was going.

“Um, Toji… can’t you wait a little bit longer until nighttime? I need to watch dinner cook before it gets late.” You said hesitantly. Your face starts to warm up as that all too familiar fuzzy feeling starts to emerge itself from its depths within.

“I don’t know, Honey. It’s only for a bit, I swear. It’s just you and me in the house right now. No one will know. None of Megumi’s dogs or shadows. Hell, not even Megumi will be here for another hour or so. Just for a bit, please.”

Oh yeah, today’s the day Megumi is coming home from school. He said he’s bringing his two classmates over, Nobara and Yuuji, for dinner and to hangout. You asked him why out of curious and as he said over the phone with you, " (*deep sigh*) Mom, it’s only because they have begged me for so long. I just said I would bring them to see you once I come home on Friday. They really want to see the house and you."

“Toji please, n-not now…”

“Baby please. Just a few minutes of your time, a quickie. I promise you.”

Promise, your ass. You know your husband, and you know him well. Once you let him loose, he’s going all in until done and satisfied. He won’t stop until he gets his fill, trying more than his own damn missions. Oh, you knew because you were 110% sure that was how Megumi was conceived and born in the first place. All because of Toji’s horny primal urges, and it got worse once he was married to you.

You tried pushing Toji but knew it wouldn’t do anything given that the man was built like a concrete dam. Toji chuckles at your efforts as his right slides lower to rest comfortably on your ass. The way it rubbed and played with your flesh, your breathing was getting labored and grows heavier by the second the more he continued to play with you. You were slowly starting to become putty in his hands, literally. Toji was having too much fun enjoying putting you in such a state. He always did, the sadistic prick he is. 

“Come on, baby~~ Is that the best you can do? You’re a lot stronger than that, where did it all go? Did you need me that badly, (Y/N)?” He condescendingly says to you as you slowly start to give in to him.

He was seducing you, tempting you just to give in. While it was harmless and consensual, the hazy feeling that came with it was starting to take effect. Slowly blocking off your senses as you fail to hear the front door opening and closing. Before the two of you would go from the point of no return, in this case Toji getting a squeeze out of your ass, you heard a loud grunt at the entrance of the kitchen. Snapping out of your trance, you escape from your husband’s embrace and face where the grunt came from.

“God, can you not do that when I come home every time? I can’t believe you, Old man.”

There, you were faced with your 15 year old son, Megumi, who had a deadpan look at his face as he stared at the two of you. More so at you then Toji. Toji looked as irritated as ever while Megumi looked completely done with him.

“Megumi, Sweetie! I thought you were coming at 6:30 pm? It’s only 5:45 pm right now!” Walking over to Megumi to greet him. You were trying to calm yourself from your flustered state and welcome your son home. It always made you embarrassed when Megumi had to encounter these types of situations with you two. And to be honest, you wished your son never had to witness any of them. Meanwhile, Toji was death glaring at his own son for literally cock blocking him. 

“Yeah, but we just got done with the mission early and Gojo-Sensei said we can leave since that’s all he did for us today. Plus, Yuuji and Nobara are here with me. They're taking off their shoes and are still at the front entrance.” Megumi rubs the back of his head and pocketing his hands as he was telling you. By the way he talked and the look on his face, you knew your son was exhausted from the day. Assuming his two friends are tired as well. 

“Well Megumi, you can go upstairs and freshen up for a bit. Take your friends up to your room as well. Dinner will be ready in 45 minutes or so, I’ll come get you and friends. If you or your friends need anything, please let me know, dear. And for you, Toji, go upstairs, shower, and change into some new clean clothes. Your curse stains are starting to smell. I don’t want the house to smell like it, now go upstairs please.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Megumi gives you a small kiss on your cheek before he goes to gather his friends and head upstairs to his room. As you smile at how much your son has grown, Toji couldn’t help get more grumpy and irritated. Especially when he saw Megumi flash him a shit-eating grin before leaving the kitchen. You didn’t see it but boy, Toji did. He knew that grin from anywhere because when Megumi grins like that, he always looks like Toji no matter the nature of the shit-eating grin.

As Toji leaves you in the kitchen to let you continue making dinner, he freshens up in your shared bedroom. When he was done, he came out and was gonna join you. His hair is a little damp as he walks down the hall. Funny enough, Megumi just left his room and ran into him before Megumi could go down stairs and get some drinks.

“Oi, Megumi.”

Megumi looks up from his phone and blankly stares at his dad.

“What?”

“Listen Megumi, you didn’t have to straight up fucking cock block me like that to your mother.”

Megumi just hums and stares at him.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have if you have been successful. You didn’t have to do that to Mom. Plus, who’s fault was it that you continuously get caught? It’s definitely not me. Nor is it my problem. That’s a skill issue, Dad. Now excuse me, I need to get some drinks.” 

Megumi walks past Toji like he didn’t just scorch the hell out of his father. Toji’s mouth was agape as he stared at his son in disbelief. He sees Megumi’s figure disappear going down the stairs. Clicking his tongue, Toji mumbled under his breath.

“Little shit,” He says before he heads in the same direction.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(A/N: Bro, I know the ending is rushed and short but I didn't really know how to end it. I like this work but I could make the ending a but better. I might edit this work later on when I get ideas.)

Thank you for you and hope you have a good day!

[scientia-rex]

Read some more of Toxic Parents tonight and wow!!!! the amount of anger I have!!! and the incredible unwillingness I have to actually remember my childhood and feel associated feelings!!!!! Like, there are events I keep telling over like talismans, because these are the events that prove I'm not crazy. These are things that happened that should never have happened. The time Dad kicked the door in is the biggest one. The time I spent twelve straight hours cowering in the far back of our station wagon with my fingers jammed in my ears so I wouldn't hear my father screaming at my mother and my mother sobbing as we drove to a different state. The time I told my mother I had gotten accepted to graduate school and her first words were, "How are you going to pay for it?" instead of "Congratulations" or "I'm proud of you."

But these aren't all of it. They're so far from all of it. One memory I have is not of the presence of abuse, but the sudden, bewildering absence of it: my sister drove me to the nearest town with a mall, an hour and a half away. We were stopping to pick up snacks for the drive back, I think at a Safeway. I picked up a box of Golden Grahams cereal and nervously asked my sister if I could have it. She said, "Of course you can, you know what you want." In the limbus of a childhood spent being told I was picking the wrong soda for myself when I gave my order at fast food restaurants, suddenly being told I could have what I wanted T-boned me emotionally. It was like running into a wall I hadn't known was there. What? I can just want things? I can just get things and have them because I want them? I don't have to justify it, or lie, or hide what I want? No one is going to tell me I'm stupid for wanting something or that I'll regret it?

Just an incessant drip-drip-drip of emotional abuse, sometimes punctuated by a flash flood. "If I leave your mother, how do you think you're going to eat? You're going to end up on the street."

And now, reading the section on how children end up feeling about the passive parents who enable abuse, I just think, oh, there's me! There's me. I hated her and pitied her and loved her and wanted more for her. I didn't have the adult emotional capacity to understand how much of her life she was complicit in, but damningly, I did vaguely, tangentially understand that she was constantly making excuses for Dad--coming to my bedroom to sit on my bed and tell me, while crying, that he was sorry, while he never apologized. Making it my job to comfort her. I said to her once that I remember, "If he was really sorry, he'd stop doing this," and she just looked at me with something that looked like sorrow but I could tell was rage--she was angry at me for not forgiving him and letting us snap right back into the "good" phase between angry outbursts, where we could, for however long it lasted, pretend to be a normal family.

And how she always resented me. She resented that I was separate from her, she resented that I could do and see and understand things she couldn't, she was angry when I went into Psychology, even angrier when I went into medicine. She's been throttling down her anger at Dad for as long as I've been alive, pretending to be malleable, having vague health complaints and maladies mixed in among the real ones, forever retiring to her bed with a washcloth over her eyes instead of interacting with me.

And now that I'm an adult, and not just an adult but a middle-aged doctor, why don't I call? Why do I insist on bringing up the past? Why do I expect Dad to apologize? I'm hurting his feelings, after all.

The past. Sure. When I graduated from medical school, he named the worst doctor we ever met and said, "He went to medical school, too. Don't get a big head."

And when we were talking, once, not long ago, maybe two years or so, about how he used to stand there and yell at us--I can't remember any of the words anymore, just the way he looked, the tone of his voice, the experience like being buffeted by a strong wind--he said, "At least your sister fought back. You just stood there and took it."

I can't imagine a clearer illustration that he doesn't actually regret his behavior. He doesn't regret his actions. He still feels justified. We were disappointments, we were failures, we weren't him, we weren't what he wanted for us, and more than that, we were convenient targets for his rage. You can do almost anything to your children and get away with it. And he didn't hit us, so it was okay, and the fact that we were hurt by the actions he took with the intent to hurt us means that we were weak. And it's okay to hurt the weak.

Christ! This is the man who, in a fit of sullen self-pity, when I gave him a mug that said "World's #1 Dad" for Father's Day when I was probably eight or nine, talked about how we both know that's not true. As if a child is your therapist. As if it were my responsibility to reassure him.

My mother has read Toxic Parents. My mother has read Why Does He Do That? She has a bachelor's and most of a master's in psychology. She has an IQ of 150. She is a bad mother. It feels like the worst judgment you can make, a bad mother. It feels worse than calling someone a bad father. Because we expect less from fathers. But a bad mother is unnatural.

But lots and lots and lots of mothers are bad at being mothers. And I love mine and I hate her, and I'm angry and I'll always be angry, and I'll die angry, and I have to try to carve what happiness I can from a world I entered into under false pretenses. I was always told I was wanted. I knew I wasn't. I may have been intentional, but I wasn't wanted.

My mother's mother just died last week. I didn't know her. She chose not to know us. I hadn't seen her since I was twenty-two and graduated from college. My mother is struggling with her relationship with her mother. She often tells me her mother was a narcissist. I want to ask her what she thinks she is. She's not a narcissist, but she's an enabler, she's a doormat, she's a classic case of codependency, and I don't think she sees it that way. I always got the sense she was just waiting for us to grow up and go away so she and Dad could go back to being happily miserable alone together.

I asked her, this last year, if she'd read Why Does He Do That? and she said she had, and she asked me carefully why I was thinking about it, waiting for me to confess to her that my husband of ten years was abusive. She's been gunning for this relationship since the beginning--I'd been with him for maybe a year when she mailed me a copy of He's Just Not That Into You (or maybe it was the sequel, It's Called a Breakup Because it's Broken) along with an article on how to date as a single older woman. I was 23. She was flabbergasted when I said I thought Dad was abusive. Denied it immediately. I listed examples and she didn't even say words, just made simultaneously pained and exasperated noises.

She wants me to be single and a career failure and pathetic so she can feel good about herself in comparison. Dad thinks he wants me to be like him, but if I actually behaved like he does, I think he finally would belt me.

I had to hide everything good in me from them so they wouldn't deliberately ruin it. I couldn't tell them about my writing. The first time I finished writing a novel I told Mom and she didn't even acknowledge it, just told me to do the dishes. I was sixteen. I can't tell them what I love about my husband because it would be like speaking to them in a foreign language. They think it's a performance, like their performance, and they're always waiting for me to slip up and reveal the misery they're sure is lurking just underneath.

I've done well. They don't own me. I wish I had real parents, but I'm going to try not to shop for oranges at the hardware store anymore.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What do you think about opinions that Chloe’s development was ruined in season 3 finale because Thomas didn’t like that viewers like her more than Marinette? I Don’t think that it’s true, but it gave me idea that Thomas ruined Chloe’s already few character development because viewers liked her more than Gabriel.

I've heard this theory before and it seems like a massive stretch to me. It's always possible, but I don't feel comfortable making accusations like this without some hard evidence and I've yet to see any, though it's not like I follow this guy on Twitter or anything. My knowledge of what goes on behind the scenes is all based on random things that make their way to my Tumblr feed. So if someone has hard evidence, feel free to reblog and add it, but the most likely explanation is just bad writing. Why ascribe malice when incompetence makes just as much sense and requires a lot less motivation?

Think about what this accusation is actually saying. It's claiming that an adult man willfully ruined a major element of his passion project (or even just the show that he's known for, meaning that it will define his future career) because he was salty that people liked a character that he created. That seems like a conspiracy theory take to me.

It's also not like Thomas has full creative control of the show! Head writers have power, but they rarely have total power. They're still employees and a ton of things happen between an episode being written and the final version being aired. Producers, directors, censors, and many others usually okay a script prior to an episode being animated because that's the most expensive element. Plus it's not like he's the only one who wrote Chloe's story. Every season two and season three episode is credited to multiple writers. In other words, it seems like multiple people signed off on Chloe's story.

There's also the issue of the air dates. Queen Wasp and Miracle Queen first aired about twelve months apart (October 6 2018 vs October 15 2019). Production times for animated TV shows are about that long, which would mean that Miracle Queen was probably being written or was even already set in stone around the time that Queen Wasp aired. In other worlds, every element of Chloe's journey was probably at least sketched out before the audience ever saw it start. That would mean that nothing in that story was reactionary. It just doesn't fit the timeline.

While Chloe's season three ending was a total mess, it was hardly out of nowhere. It was glaringly obvious that Chloe couldn't stay Queen Bee from the moment that we met Queen Bee. You can't willfully out yourself to the world and expect to stay a hero (or, at least, that shouldn't be a thing Felix). I was honestly baffled when they gave her back the bee in Malediktator and relieved when Marinette finally acknowledged the problem in Miraculer:

Ladybug: I'm sorry, Chloé. I should've told you this a long time ago. I might never be able to let you be Queen Bee again.

Which was, of course, the setup for Miracle Queen, further complicating this theory because it looks like less than a year passed between the world premieres of Queen Wasp and Miraculer (October 6 2018 vs May 15 2019).

I don't know if this made it to your Tumblr feed, but the Miraculous writing team announced that the writing for season six was done back in late March. The show won't air until sometime this winter, well over half a year later, because that's just how animation works and they've supposedly done things to make the animation process faster this season. I just don't see how this Chloe theory works or why it needs to be a thing when her bad writing falls perfectly in line with things like the absolute disaster that was season five. She wasn't a fluke, she was a warning of things to come.

As best I can tell, the entire Queen Bee plot was just an incredibly awkward and forced way to show how dangerous identity reveals were. Which isn't a bad plot to have, but don't do that plot and then let a bunch of other temp heroes keep their miraculous post reveal! Writers, what are you even doing?

If you want my best guess answer to that, then I don't think that the writers planned to make their story feel massively hypocritical. I think that they just did a dumb writing mistake that I've seen multiple shows do: they wrote a really cool cliffhanger ending without planning how to make that ending work in the following season. And there was no way to really make the ending work, so they end up just kind of ignoring it.

The reason why this happens is pretty simple. Most shows try to end their seasons on cliffhangers so that fans will come back for the next season. It's extremely rare to have a solid happy ending that ties everything together. This can lead to writers making questionable calls because they're pressed for time and have to come up with something that will keep the fans wanting more even if that thing makes no sense. It can also lead to writers making questionable calls because they DO have a plan for how the cliffhanger will play out, but when it comes time to actually put that plan into action, it gets shut down and now they have to scramble to make the nonsense work.

Anyway, what I'm really trying to say is that, as much as I like the concept of a redeemed Chloe joining the team, it was pretty clearly never going to happen in canon. The writing only backed that read for a brief moment at the start of season two where we got a handful of episodes that made Chloe feel less like a cookie-cutter mean girl and more like a true character, but then the Chloe plot really got going and I was just waiting for the inevitable fiery end. I actually thought that Chloe was going to be treated as a tragic character and become a true villain in season four. Instead we got utter nonsense that tossed her character all over the place to the point where I have no idea what they're even trying to do with her.

[radianceholy]

Owlcatober 2024 - Second Chances

"I miss you very much, Arueshalae. I'm sad we won't be able to play together anymore! I really, really loved you Arueshalae, really! I'll always wait for you."

Centuries after the end of the Fifth Crusade, Ember meets her childhood friend.

i have an agenda here and it's that i don't think corrupted arueshalae is fundamentally any different from normal arueshalae, and i really love the idea that even after diving off the deep end, she can't really escape herself. i got way too into this one and i hope that people enjoy it!!!

cw: gore, violence, eye trauma, threats and implications of sexual violence, choking, burning flesh

"It's her again, isn't it?" The child stared up at her, lip twitching in a way that betrayed a great deal more fear than she knew how to properly express. Caught between two terrible possibilities, and looking to the one adult left in her left in her life that would give her the time of day, as though she could make sense of her fears. 

"...It is. That's precisely why you must wait." 

She shook her head, defiant. She wasn't very old, even by human standards. Maybe ten, or at most, twelve. She was an orphan child that had latched onto Ember in one of her travels, and had been trailing behind her with open fascination for the better part of a year, viewing her with the kind of open fascination that comes from a mixture of desperation and unpunished optimism. She had a certain brightness about her that betrayed her gentler years, much as Ember did. The girl’s parents had been comfortably wealthy before their disappearance, and they surely loved her to bits. She remained certain that someday they'd return to draw her back into a life of comfort. Ember had never been so naive, even in her childhood years. Her father was not 'gone,' he was dead.

The years had shown Ember the limits of human kindness. Her disfigurement was considered holy, to some; on the rare occasions when she met those who called themselves the Redeemed, generations removed from those that followed her so long ago. Wrapped in a threadbare cloak doing too little to shelter her frail figure, the world had extracted its price for her mercies. Her missing fingers, her blind eye, the arm that had been severed at the elbow… according to them, it was all proof of her goodness. Proof of a virtuous martyr, it was said. She would smile, denying them in the gentlest of terms.

"I can't! She's going to hurt you!" 

Age changed a lot about her, she supposed, but she was still mortal, caught in the whorl of her own personal history. Perhaps it was gratifying, to see this girl so young as to think this kind of cruelty was truly abnormal. She'd learned the lesson long ago, and whenever she'd doubt that lesson, she'd suffer the consequences.

Sometimes, the guilty must be punished.

"She is. She made a promise to me that she would. She'll want to hurt you, too, just for being near me." 

"I can't… I don't wanna stay here alone," she sniffled. "You won't come back. Just like mother and father…"

Ember sighed softly, brushing the girl's tears away with her thumb. "I was a child, and I let myself go to war. I never knew how much I was hurting myself."

"But, big sister…" 

"Please," she urged, quietly. "You're just a little girl. You don't have to hurt yourself." The world won't get any kinder, no matter what you sacrifice. She smiled sadly, those last words left unsaid. 

The girl grabbed her hand, clutching it all the tighter. Ember's fingers were already growing numb, and her frail body didn't have much strength to resist. She had a great power at her disposal, certainly, but none she would bring to bear against a child. She had spent her many years wandering the world, struggling to balance gentle guidance and harsh discipline. She was no closer to knowing, even hundreds of years after she left the Redeemed behind. She didn't quite know how to say it to this girl, but there were no answers she could give that would heal her heart and cure her of her fear and grief.

She sighed weakly, bowing her head.

"... There's one thing that you can do for me. But you have to follow my instructions exactly."

The girl nodded, tears in her eyes. 

"...Exactly what I say," she emphasized. "And if I cry out, you can't run to me. Remember that, no matter what."

-

Temples dedicated to Desna were always beautiful, each in their own ways. Grand skylights, beautiful painted murals, intricate architecture. ‘Opulent’ was never the right word, even if Ember had seen some reach rather grand heights. It was… inspiring, perhaps. She’d certainly witnessed a great many taking comfort in the temple. Mortal artists and architects poured their efforts into capturing a kind of beauty older than Golarion itself, and all mortal life upon its soil. In the heavens, there are stars. On the earth, there are flowers. In mortal hearts, there is love. 

This temple, too, was beautiful. An eye like Ember's could see it, no matter how it appeared to the world. Viscera strewn about, draped over the temple's pillars. Blood was splattered and smeared all over the walls and windows, and the stars outside twinkled through a crimson mirror. Two bodies lay together, gutted, their hearts torn from their chests even as their figures entwined in beautiful repose Red, red, red. She could feel the blood sticking to her bare feet, spilling out from bodies that were carved and sliced open with an artisan’s touch. Soot perched on her shoulder, wings tucked close against her sides. Some were still twitching, letting out gurgling, pathetic noises, in the throes of a succubus' kiss. All were beyond saving. 

"You're late," a sweet voice chided her, lounging at the foot of a statue of Desna in flight. It, too, was soaked in blood; intestines wrapped around her neck like a beautiful wreath. Strings of severed hands clung to her form. Grasping at her for grace, perhaps.

"You like it, don't you?" Arueshalae crowed, lounging on her throne of corpses so brutalized they could scarcely be recognized as human. The clergy had been stripped naked, faces torn off of their heads. The hollow stare of bloody, eyeless sockets gazed pleadingly towards Ember, like so many desperate followers seeking to abandon the demon lords that abused them. There was scarcely a speck of blood on Arueshalae's skin. Not so much as a drop, really. "My work. Payment to the Goddess for her kindness towards me. Her mercy." She sighed, seeming happy with herself. Happiness was a performance, and satisfaction was another piercing thrust. If it wasn't, it might be silent here for a moment too long. “If you’d come a few hours sooner, you could have saved some of them," she said, voice dripping with honey. "If you’d been here yesterday, they’d all be going about their lives quite happily. But you came much too late. How very sad, isn't it?”

"You always come to places like this." Ember's voice carried the slightest tremor. There were some people, she knew, that she couldn't help.

"And why shouldn't I?" She laughed. "She taught me so many wonderful things about mortals! Have you come to forgive me yet again?" She sits up, leering at her. "Their deaths are on your head, you know. Every last one."

"You did this," she said, failing to keep her voice even. "To them, and to you. Who are you really punishing?" Her anger was a sickening aberration, as twisted and malignant as the guilt that she felt.

“It’s you, of course!” She laughed. "So desperate! So utterly sincere! Laying your heart bare, where anyone could pierce it. Do you remember how gentle it was, when you held me in your arms? I would have drunk every last drop of you if I could have,” she purred. Her voice shifted, as suddenly as flipping a switch. She gasped and choked, tears in her eyes, wings folded in against her sides, eyes wide, demure, and trembling. “O-oh, Ember… Ember, please believe me. I'm so sorry-! I’ve done so many terrible things, and there’s no one else I can turn to! You have to trust me…!" 

Her one good hand touched the scar over her right eye, without thinking. Discipline. She had been taught discipline... but she wanted to believe, too. Arueshalae laughed uproariously, flashing a wicked grin. 

"You're so weak! So easy to manipulate. No matter how often you deny me, you always twist yourself into such convenient knots. It's pathetic, you know. It–" She suddenly froze. Ember's heart tightened, and for a moment, she didn't dare breathe. "--Wait. What is that? That sound. Is that…?"

Ember’s eyes blazed, as Flames danced at the tips of her fingers. Her anger was malignant, a twisted and hateful thing. She despised herself for being less than the savior the redeemed wished of her. But she had to admit, even if only to herself.

It was a mighty weapon.

Her cloak blew back, as Soot took to the air, a great pillar of flame tearing through the temple. The force of the explosion burned Arueshalae's gruesome throne to ash, Desna herself blackened and purified by a roaring pyre. The bloodstained windows burst into shards of glass, raining down to the ground in a shower of glittering moonlight.

"Your funny little tricks," Arueshalae cackled. She’d moved so fast, Ember hadn’t even seen it, but she was unscathed by the blast. Her reflexes were sharper than ever, and Ember’s body had only gotten weaker. She landed upon Desna's statue, one foot callously pressing down upon the head of the goddess. She toyed with one of her trophies - it was a beautifully engraved starknife, likely wrenched from the palm of some poor priest. It was made for ceremonial purposes, perhaps, but she knew from experience it would be exactly as deadly as it needed to be in Arueshalae’s hands. "Awfully quick to rely on them, too. Did you really lose your forgiving spirit? Or did I touch a nerve? Who is it, then, scurrying around in the shadows? An ally? A friend? A moon-eyed follower, blinded by your wisdom? I thought that filthy bird was the last friend you have left."

Ember couldn’t let her face give anything away, even if her pounding heart surely would have instead. A coil of flame burst forth from her palm, twisting through the air and streaking towards Arueshalae. Effortlessly, she leapt from her perch, wings spread as she swept through the smoke left in its wake. The knife whirled through the air, and Ember's movements were too slow. Blood spilled onto the stone as it carved through her side, slashing through her tattered, threadbare robes and worn-out cloak. A moment was all she needed. She dove, tackling her to the ground. She was small, frail. She'd survived on goodwill, and it was often in rare supply. Her back slammed against the ground and she screamed, hearing a loud crack from somewhere in her body as the demon leered at her from above. 

"...Oh, but there will be time for that soon enough. I missed seeing you like this." she purred. "Maybe when I take your other eye, I'll force feed that disgusting bird to you. Though... not before I make sure you see your little companion slaughtered, first. Whoever they are." She could hear Soot's crowing, feel the Succubus' hunger lapping at her abjurations, probing for a weakness it wouldn't find. The desire to see her pinned and humiliated was, perhaps, enough to distract a starving succubus, even if for but a moment. With one hand, Arueshalae forced Ember's good arm down. With the other, she stroked her sharp nails along her cheek in a gesture that almost seemed tender and fond. 

Ember's vision was cloudy, and she could only see her fangs, lips curled in a predatory satisfaction.

"Are you open to bargaining, at long last? The life of one follower isn't cheap, is it? I'll spare them, and you submit yourself to me. I could fit you with a collar and keep you chained to my throne. Tear out your tongue, so I don't have to listen to your obnoxious preaching. You'll be my blind, obedient little pet. You can sit by my side, listening to the music of the abyss and praying for my soul, as you always do." She ran a finger along her cheek, until it found the edges of her eyelids, prying it open and digging her claws that dug into her eye socket. "Forget that anything else in the cosmos even exists, save for me. I'll still show you far more kindness than these mortals have." 

She hissed in pain, twitching. Her arm jerked, but she was overpowered easily, even with her protective spells in place. She coughed on her own blood, letting out a weak, gurgling noise, but an odd smile formed on her lips.

"Oh, really? That pleases you, does it? You’ve spurned my affections so often. I thought you’d begun to hate me! Have you finally begun to submit?" Her nail dug in, close to gouging her eye out. “Praise me, and I’ll consider letting you keep your tongue. You can lavish me with those sweet words that lead doomed men back to the light and preach to me as much as you please, if you use it to lick my boots.” 

Ember let out a weak, trembling sound. She had changed over so many centuries, but even now, her heart… Her foolish, weak, sentimental heart…

“Go on! A bit louder. I can’t hear you.”

"You really can't let go," she whispered. "Of me, of Desna…" 

"Shut up," she snarled, pressing her finger in deeper. Ember let out an excruciating howl of pain. "I’ve changed my mind. You'll be better off without a tongue."

"...That's why you went after Seelah, too, all of those years ago… isn't it? She loved you like a sister."

"And she paid for it!" She barked out a laugh. "There's no one left to even tend to her grave!" 

"We didn't regret loving you."

Through the blood in her eye, Ember could still see her flinch back as if struck, her expression contorted into a mask of pain and rage. Her claw retracted from her eye socket. She looked up, with what little slack she’d now been given. The hole she'd blown through the ceiling gave her a good look at the church's bell tower. The night was full of stars.

"I don't regret loving you now, either," she whispered, her raspy voice carried by a faint, lonesome wind blowing through the desecrated temple.

Her lip curled into a snarl. "How pointlessly fucking vapid."

Ember looked into her eyes. "It's true," she sighed softly. "You were my childhood friend."

"Spare me!" Her voice rose to a shout, and her weight bared down upon her with far more intensity. Her ribs creaked under the pressure, and Ember let out an involuntary whimper of pain. But as Arueshalae drew in close, her voice was a deathly-quiet whisper.

"You should have killed me back then."

She squeezes her eye shut. "You were hurting..."

"You should have killed me," she repeated, cutting her off with a snarl, "the moment you heard about the turncoat demoness. The moment you saw me simpering and begging in my cell. If not then, when I threw myself back into that very same cell out of fear. If not then, when my sins were laid bare before you." Her voice trembled, rising to a fevered, maddened pitch. "You should have killed me when my eyes were blinded by starlight. When the song still echoed sweetly in my ears! You should have killed me when I could have hoped to be anything more than this! Let me die believing in a foolish promise of freedom, or kill me now, so that it finally end!" With a violent lurch, she wrapped both hands around Ember's neck, and slammed her head into the stone. 

Arueshalae’s grip had snapped her wrist, but the pain didn't matter. Nor did the stars in her eyes. With the last of her breath, she disappeared in a flash of light, body crumpling behind the temple's altar, struggling even to breathe.

Arueshalae let out a roar, grabbing the bloodied starknife from the ground, wings flaring in anger. "Not again!" She screamed. "You aren't going to do this again! I'll punish every filthy beggar who dared to accept a scrap of your charity! I'll hunt you down! I'll make you forget your own name, and I’ll rip everything you accomplished to shreds!" 

Ember murmured another incantation, trying to block out the anguished threats. Blood was still gushing from her eye, and her wrist was already beginning to swell, but she had more than enough power in her to stop the pain, even as frail as her body is. Positive energy washed through her body in a warm wave. 

"You'll live in your own piss and shit, that’s how far beneath me you are! You'll survive ten thousand years in my care, and scrape against the ground while I feed you the rotten meat of your own followers! I will brand you with my mark so that no one will ever look upon you without knowing who you belong to! I'll fuck you to death and stitch together what's left, so that I can fuck you to death all over again!" She leapt over the altar, frenzied, teeth bared.

The tolling of a bell could pierce clamor just as it could silence. Arueshalae screamed, her charge broken. The ranting and raving ceased, her body twisting and writhing in pain, and she hugged herself. She let out a whimper, collapsing atop the stone slab as though she were some ritual sacrifice. "What… what is that? What is that sound?"

"Your gift to us," Ember replied, her voice soft. She stepped backwards, never taking her eye off of her. "Do you remember? You might have succeeded in killing me, but you chose this place... this church. You really can't let go..." 

"That… bell? That stupid, insignificant little bell? It's here?! Of all places-!" 

Ember's voice echoed through the temple like the word of the divine.

"Burn."

Soot sat upon the statue of Desna, the blaze dancing in her beady eyes. 

"For the love of the gods, she's a child! She's a child!" He tore frantically through the wood at the base of the pyre, throwing it aside as his skin blistered and his clothes caught flame. He must have been in such terrible pain, but he wouldn't let himself stop until he could finally reach her. He desperately tore at her ropes with his own hands, his flesh beginning to melt. Screaming, screaming. The inquisitors wouldn't stop him, too paralyzed to slaughter their own, but neither would they help him, too faithful in their righteous cause. A witch should burn.

A witch should burn. 

The centuries had changed her, certainly, but not enough. Not nearly enough. The moment that a shred of doubt crept into her mind was the same moment she knew it had to end. She would pray for the Demon Lords of the Abyss, because no one else would. She would pray for Arueshalae, no matter how twisted she became. What hope was there for the wicked and forgotten, if no one would recognize their suffering? How could anyone ever challenge the abyss, if every right-minded crusader and gods-fearing mortal already accepted its terms?

Screams echoed through the temple. It must have been unimaginably painful. In her childhood, she took pity on the man who set the flames, and she took pity on the man who quenched them. She took pity on them all, and in her heart, her innocent and childish heart, she knew that there had to be a better way. Sacrifice would never make the world any kinder. A quiet little cabin somewhere, maybe. Or an endless road, promising freedom. A gentle word. A song. A single, fleeting moment of peace. But a sacrificial pyre?

Never. Never.

-

The little girl crept closer to Ember, anxious and pale. No doubt she heard some of Arueshalae’s uninhibited taunts, or Ember’s screams of pain. At very least Ember made sure to clear out the gore and corpses before allowing her to come wait in the ruined temple with her. The room smelled like smoke and ash, and it was a bitter, acrid thing, but it was no longer the gruesome sight it was before.

“I did well, didn’t I, big sister? When I rang the bell, it helped?”

“You did well,” she nodded. “You made it just in time, and you weren’t seen. I’m proud of you.”

“She’s… she’s not gonna hurt you? Or me? You’re sure of it?” The little girl glanced down at the face of the demon, fidgeting and squirming.

“I’m sure,” she replied.

“How do you know?”

“Look at her eyes.”

…It was a fitful sleep, but she could see it. Movement beneath her closed eyelids. Even demons could dream, after all.

“She’s pretty,” she said, almost without thought. “...Why did she hate you so much, big sister?”

Ember shook her head. "It isn't the right time to say. She needs her sleep."

A fat, orange cat sat on top of the roof of a warehouse. How did it get up there…? It was a mouser, but it was also well-fed and well loved. It was clean, groomed, and taken care of. It wore a cute little collar. She touched down on the roof, as gentle as could be, and lay beside the it, watching it for as long as it remained, but never creeping any closer. How simple it would be, to be born as something so effortlessly loved…

The world was better off when the Worldwound closed, but whenever she thought of her happiest moments… when the haze of violence cleared from her eyes and she could remember happiness at all, rather than a perpetual numbing hunger and clawing hatred... she thought about the war. Mortals, marching into a desolate and dead land, fighting against an incomprehensibly vast foe, and her place among them. Nervously braiding a young girl's hair. A joyous cry of ‘Sister!’ from someone bold enough to call her a friend. A thousand and one jokes she never quite understood. Two women so deeply in love their lives were like one. Art and poetry. Cold and uncompromising duty. A cause she believed in with her entire heart, even if her heart was forever unknown to her.

Dreams. Beautiful, lovely dreams, clutched greedily in her arms. 

When she opened her eyes, she found herself laying on Ember’s lap. Above her, a fat crow sat on a burned statue of the goddess, a beautiful little butterfly perched on her beak. Beyond that, a burning hole that had been blown through the ceiling, and far above, she could see the stars. She saw them in her Knight Commander’s eyes, once. Cold, distant, and impassive. Her judgment was certain. Her role in the cosmos had been long predetermined. What use is there, fighting the irrevocable law of her nature?

And yet... In the fog of sleep, she could imagine them, ever-so-briefly, to be a mercy. Just as she did before, when the future inspired hope instead of... boredom and fear. They were glittering map of beauty, myth, heroism and love, displayed upon a marvelous tapestry. In her weakness, she could see how lovely the heavens were. Just as the earth had flowers. Just as her heart had…

…

“Sh- she’s awake?” The voice of a terrified child. A snarling instinct roared within Arueshalae, hammering against her psyche. Kill her swiftly enough that Ember couldn’t stop her. Torment her with her failure! Bathe in her blood!

…She couldn’t bring herself to move. Ember had healed her completely, and the agonizing pain of that divine flame washing over her was gone, but somehow, she could no longer find the strength for it. Perhaps it had burned something crucial out of her being, rendering her helpless. She’d remain, a declawed and neutered demoness. How pathetic.

“You were so close,” she said. “Why can’t you just kill me?”

“It’s love,” Ember answered sadly, looking away. “If I don’t love you, then no one will ever love you again. My friend, who would shelter me from the rain…”

“Stop. Ember, stop…”

“You were always so afraid, Arueshalae.”

“I was fooling myself,” she spat, failing to drum up her usual level of venom and spite. “Fooling you, too. A demon can't love.”

“I still see her in you. Even now.”

“That girl you knew was a figment. A dream. A lie! Haven’t I proven that, yet!?”

“If she was a dream,” she said, “then isn’t she the answer to the riddle that vexed you so?”

It felt as though something in her broke. Centuries of pressure had built up, and now released. She hissed, like an angry cat, trying to sputter out some half-formed insult. What came instead was a soft moan, as tears welled in her eyes. She choked, clutching at Ember’s tattered robes.

For the first time in centuries, Arueshalae began to cry.

[trans-axolotl]

"Uncle, Give me a Cigarette"

"It is morning and I hear the jangling of two sets of handcuffs as the prison guard approaches us. He throws them to the ground, clanging against the concrete floor, and a sense of calm settles over the room. There’s one bundle to tie the hands, and another, with longer chains, to tie the legs. Eight pairs of handcuffs of each kind, for seven prisoners.

I stand with the others in the middle of a small yard, ringed by holding cells, and try to lean against the wall. I am tired of being moved between prisons since we started the open hunger strike. I gather my energy and try to take in as much air as possible in preparation for a journey that will last hours inside an iron box that in this heat quickly turns into an unbearable furnace.

Once he is finished handcuffing us, the guard heads off for the prisoner transport truck. And then I hear a voice emanating out of the cell behind me…

“Uncle, give me a cigarette.” I peer into the cell’s darkness but cannot see anyone, and for a moment I think I am delirious. Then the voice issues out of the cell again, this time louder and more desperate. “Uncle, my uncle, give me a cigarette!” I stare into the cell again and call to the voice.

“Where are you?!”

“I’m here, down here!”.

Hunching down, I peer through the slot in the bottom of the door through which prisoners receive their food and have their hands tied before being let out of the cell, and I see a child, not older than twelve years old. A child asking for a cigarette.

I didn’t know how to respond to him. Should I give him a cigarette, I wondered, or should I educate him about the dangers of smoking in the way that adults do with children outside prison? Adults, adults…and then I am struck by the fact I am including myself in this category. By the fact that he called me “uncle.” Am I so old already?

I was suddenly terrified by being addressed in this manner. It was the first time during my 26 years of imprisonment that I have met someone speaking to me across such a distance of age. In prisons we are used to not addressing each other in this way, with social honorifics marking our age. Regardless of what our age differences may be, we all address each other as “my brother” or “comrade” and, more recently, “fighter.”

The craving is not for the rush of nicotine but for what the cigarette connotes. Frightened, a mere child in the harsh world of the prison, he wanted to become a man quickly.I considered the child, empathizing with his craving for the cigarette. The craving is not for the rush of nicotine but for what the cigarette connotes. Frightened, a mere child in the harsh world of the prison, he wanted to become a man quickly. Meanwhile, it is now my desire to turn back time so that I can again become a child, at least a young man, the way I was when I entered prison more than a quarter of a century ago. Both of us were fearful. I was fearful for the time that had passed and he was fearful of what had not yet passed. I was afraid of the past and he was afraid of the future. I was afraid of having lived a life that had burnt out in prison, and he was afraid of what the cigarette that was now lodged between his lips could not burn away. The cigarette became something else after he had exhaled and so did he, standing tall now on his toes, appearing now older than his age. The ember glow became a lantern in his hand, chasing away the darkness of the cell, dispelling his fear and loneliness.

He was not smoking but trying to dispel the image of a child that so incontrovertibly clung to him. In the world of the prison, in the face of the cruelty of its guards, childhood is a burden. Knowing that he was to face years of imprisonment, he was seeking to rid himself of his vulnerability and innocence, for which he clearly had no further use–it having made no difference to the judge that had sentenced him to four years.

The guard came back for us, picked the eighth pair of handcuffs up from the concrete floor, and barked at the child to push his hands through the slot in the door. So the child pushed them through still holding the cigarette between his fingers. The guard shouted at him to drop the cigarette and then muttered to himself in Hebrew, bemoaning the sight of a child smoking. Nevertheless he proceeded with the handcuffing, remaining unmoved by the sight of those small hands in handcuffs. Because the child’s wrists were too small, however, he struggled several times to secure the handcuffs, and finally decided to use them to chain the boy’s legs.

When he was moved out of the cell, in preparation for the transportation, I looked at him and imagined that he was my own son, such as fate had not yet wanted to bring into the world. I wanted with every strain of my being to hug him and as these paternal feelings surged through me, I felt an overwhelming desire to cry. But I hid my feelings. I did not want to shatter the image of the man that he wanted now to become. I walked over to him, so as to shake his hand as a comrade, and a rival, asking

“How are you, fighter?” "

-Walid Daqqah, "‘A Place Without a Door’ and ‘Uncle Give me a Cigarette’

[madhatterbri]

Welcome Home | L.M. Part 2

Summary: Lucius offers her a deal in exchange to not take Finn away. 18+.

"Lu- Lucius," she gasped in fear. Her heart beat loud enough that she could hear it. The loud thumping made it hard to hear the words coming out of her mouth. She gasped and tried to steady her blood pressure. Tears pricked her eyes. Her son would know the truth about his father. The thought alone made her panic more.

"An interesting young lad I met at Flourish and Botts. He looked exactly like me but with the reddest of hair," he started. His fingers touched the bottom of her hair. The snake head on the cane never leaving her chin. "Peculiar as from what I recall you left twelve years ago,"

"He's my son. I don't know who the father is," she lied. A lie she didn't have to tell. He raised his eyebrows in interest.

"Really? No idea huh? I am sure a simple test will prove I am the father. Draco always wanted a younger sibling," he smiled. The fear in her eyes like a drug to him. Her brother seemed to be the braver of the two. Arthur was always attempting to thwart his plans at the Ministry.

"Please," Isobel begged. She swallowed a sob. "Please don't take my son from me,"

"I propose a deal, Isobel. One that I think will satisfy both our wants.... and needs," Lucius offered taking a step back. The cane left her chin. She looked down trying to steady her breathing.

"I'll do anything. Anything. I love Finn," she confessed. Tears poured down her cheeks. "I can't lose my only child,"

Lucius scrunched his face at the simplicity of his son's name. Finn. The name was certainly in poor taste but he figured the poor boy already had a liking to it.

"You want the boy? Fine. He is yours," he began allowing her a chance to sigh in relief. She expressed her gratitude by thanking him. She wiped her eyes. "But in exchange, I will expect us to continue where we left off all those years ago,"

Isobel stopped in her tracks. She looked up to see he wasn't kidding. He had to mean something else. Before Finn was before she led a completely different life. One that happened to find herself in Lucius clutches often.

"I don't understand," she admitted. He was a married man. He couldn't possibly want anything with her.

"My wife and I have been married for years. We are still madly in love but we have grown bored of each other. We agreed to an open relationship. Knowing my enemy's sister is getting her pleasure from me makes it so much more... special,"

Isobel was floored by the deal. She would get to keep her son but now be a mistress in the Malfoy marriage. This wasn't a new thing for the Malfoys. She remembered his father was the same way. The wives were known to look away or get their pleasures for their own.

"There has to be something else. Please. We can discuss this like mature adults,"

"I will be at your house tonight. You know what I like," he informed her. Before she could say another word he vanished.

The rest of Isobel's day was spent worrying. Finn was staying at the Burrow once more. He had plenty of fun with his family. Arthur didn't mind. She paced around her house. A good portion of the day was spent cleaning. The flat wasn't anywhere near his standards but it was home to her.

As the night wore on she hoped he forgot about her. The hours continued to pass by with no sign of him. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding. They could have lunch somewhere and discuss this. All her hopes were dashed when he knocked on her door.

She opened the door and allowed him in. Lucius made a face while looking around. He couldn't believe this is where he agreed to allow his son to live. Merlin, he wouldn't let his worst enemy live here.

He stood in front of her fireplace. His eyes darted towards her. The patriarch of the Malfoy clan seemed pleased at her apparel. The Malfoys were one of the first wizarding families as such their tastes were more ancient. Lucius was fond of corset lingerie. Isobel wore a burgundy lace corset with matching underwear.

He motioned for her to stand in front of the fireplace. She obliged. Lucius circled around the woman like a shark.

"I see you made the wise decision to accept my offer," he smiled. A smug expression on his handsome face. "You know the drill. Go to your bed and bend over. I'll be there shortly,"

Isobel didn't need to be told twice. She quickly raced upstairs to her bedroom. He always enjoyed spanking her. He wanted to know that he was in full control of her. A part of her wondered if it had to do with her being a Gryffindor or a Weasley.

She bent over the silver satin sheets. Her palms laid against the bed. The redhead laid on her cheek closed her eyes and waited for him. Lucius paused in the livingroom and watched her willingness to please him. He couldn't believe after all these years he was going to have the Weasley once more.

The witch tensed upon hearing his footsteps come closer. They stopped when she calculated that he was right behind her. Two crooked fingers slid her underwear down to the floor.

"I enjoy the lower born purebloods more than the higher borns," he degraded her. "You all are so easy to manipulate and control,"

A swift slap fell on her bare ass. The stinging resonated on the sore spot. She counted each time a blow landed on her flesh. She bit her lip after the tenth spank. She knew her skin was now bright pink.

"I have been thinking about this all day," he whispered and sat on a chair in the room. Isobel laid still not wanting another spanking. She knew to wait for orders from him or face the consequences. "I missed those perfect lips. The way you would kiss me all over. I especially miss them around me,"

Isobel understood just what he was implying. He always said a blow job was his favorite. It showed that the woman would do anything to please her man. His wife didn't seem like the type that would ever allow that. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled to him.

Lucius began to undo the zipper from his pants allowing his erect penis to spring to life. He wished Arthur could see this now. His little sister crawling towards him. Her mouth would soon be stuffed with his cock.

She stared at him before her. He smiled upon seeing her eyes lay on his most prized possession. It felt like old times. Two horny teenagers sneaking around Hogwarts to get each other off. Now they were two adults both getting what they wanted.

The witch slowly licked the tip of him. Her actions were met with a grunt. She wrapped her mouth around him. He breathed heavily as her head bobbed up and down. Lucius snaked his long, slender fingers through her hair and started to guide her head quickly. Tears slid down the side of her eyes, yet she didn't pull away. The lengths she would go through to keep her son. The wizard smiled at her.

Loud moans echoed inside the room. His breath ragged as he felt himself getting closer. He yanked her away from him. She looked at him worried that she did something wrong.

"Get on the bed," he ordered and pointed to the bed. She scurried onto the bed and laid down on her back. Another game for him. A woman's place was obeying her man.

Lucius removed his shirt and wiggled out of his pants. His naked form stood proudly before her. He dropped to his knees and dragged her closer to him. Her skin burned at his touch. The wizard placed her leg on his shoulder and kissed her inner thigh before sucking on the soft flesh. He removed himself from her thigh showing off the hickey. He suddenly buried his face between her legs. She whimpered feeling his assault on her. His tongue lapped and swirled around her. Lucius smirked against her skin.

"Lucius," she purred arching her back. She rolled her head back.

To her surprise, a finger slipped inside of her followed by two more. More moans escaped. His thumb roughly played with her clit. She gripped the sheets under her. The stimulation overload starting to toy with her mind. The fire in her belly started to roar as she felt herself closing into pure ecstasy. Isobel warned him that she was closing in on the chase to orgasm. Lucius stopped his actions immediately. She cried out in frustration.

"Now, now little Weasley," he patronized and let her leg drop on the floor. He crawled on top of her and kissed her lips hungrily. He wrapped one of her legs around his waist while the other leg was propped upon his shoulder. "Lets see how you take me now. Your brother would be so disappointed,"

The blonde wizard slid himself inside of her eliciting a moan from the pair. He rocked his hips feeling himself chasing his own orgasm. His head was brought back as he continued his movement. He started to pick up the pace.

"Don't hold back for me. I want to hear you scream. Let everyone here know who you belong to," he pushed inside of her roughly as if to show his point. Her walls started to clench around him.

"Lu-Lucius!" She moaned feeling herself orgasm around him just as he wanted. He gripped her hips roughly giving himself a few more powerful thrusts before cumming inside of her. He gasped as he placed her legs back on the bed. Her eyes started to flutter closed. The events from today starting to catch up to her. Lucius rolled her over on her stomach. Isobel looked at him in confusion.

"We are far from over. Welcome home,"

[idiopathicsmile]

10 comebacks to a woman who once told my best friend, then a chicagoan (like i was), "i love coming to chicago because in new york i'm an 8 but in chicago i'm a 10"

"exactly, that's something i love about living here, you know? it's not as surface-oriented and shallow as some other cities. like, the culture's just a little deeper and a little smarter than in places where everyone's only concentrating on looking their best at all times, you know?"

"oh wow, you really said that with your out-loud voice, huh?"

(LAUGHTER) "yeah, you're a ten here. sure you are." (LAUGHTER)

"just wondering: in the moments before that comment left your mouth, did you take a second to imagine how we, a bunch of people who very obviously live in chicago, would react? if no, why not? if yes, what on earth did you see? please write in complete sentences in the booklet provided. you will have thirty minutes."

"my god, do you assign yourself a number comparing your appearance to the appearances of the people around you everywhere you go? you know we have a limited amount of time on this earth, right? you know that after that, we die and death is forever, right?"

"hurrah, i've done it! i've finally met the one human on the planet who is capable of objectively, correctly assessing the relative attractiveness of everyone everywhere on earth. please, oh please pray tell: what number am i? what number is he? what number is she? numbers all around, please!"

"what an exhausting way to live. what a tiring way of interacting with other people. what a dispiriting way to view the world around you, a world teeming with life and strangeness and possibility. serious question: are you alright?"

"i was going to make a crack about new yorkers being looks-obsessed, but in retrospect i have no idea why. i'm sorry. i genuinely have nothing against nyc, a location i have visited only a handful of times, including one trip to see the very person to whom you made your ill-advised remark, lo these years ago, and we had what i would call a magical time. i don't actually understand pitting one city against another. i don't understand the mentality that there must always be a ranking, must always be a competition, must always, always be a winner and a loser. also if you're a ten, everyone else here is a twelve, baby."

"on some level, i do understand that eventually this ceases to be a piece about the irritating thing a friend's work colleague once said, and instead becomes a chronicle of my own deranged inability to let a grudge go—even a petty grudge, even a second-hand grudge, even a grudge which i am again compelled to inform you saw its spark of creation multiple years and several moves ago. (neither the friend nor i live in chicago anymore.) on some level, i understand that this turning point, the moment where any sensible reader went "yikes, jess really hasn't let this go, huh?" might have happened in the very title of this post. i have never met you, woman who maybe five years ago told some chicagoans you worked with that you're an 8 in new york and a 10 in chicago. you could have changed since then. you could have grown and deepened and evolved your thinking. i do believe people are capable of learning. maybe you even remember saying it, and regret it now. maybe not. but to be honest, worse things have been said—to me, to my best friend, to everyone who has been on this planet longer than a few years. life is exhausting and scary and wonderful and we are all going to die some day. you are an adult and that means you have had hard days, hard weeks, hard years even. you have been heartbroken, and sick with worry, and you have known terror, real terror, that animal fear that crawls up the spine and screams in the brain, and yet you found it in yourself to get in a airplane and fly halfway across a large country to be here, for the sake of a job you might not even like. we are all doing the best we can. i have to believe we are all doing the best we can. i could have written this post about anything. there were near-infinite possibilities and i chose this, a mean little caricature, and in trying to paint you, only managed a quick and unflattering sketch of me, a person obsessed with being right and being clever, but who frequently is neither. again, i have never met you, and if i do meet you i will never know it, and i have spent more brain space imagining a tiny, bitter vengeance against this single-sentence quote, relayed to me at a remove, than i have spent trying to learn calculus or teaching myself to garden or volunteering at a soup kitchen. if there ever was a winner or a loser in this bizarre equation it is fully possible that i have lost, simply by trying so hard to win."

"...ok."

[kholnt]

I just wanted to say how much I looooooovvveeee your Lost Link fic! I love the idea of what would happen if Wild remembered his past. I wanted to know how you think his knight training went? I definitely think that it was a terrible experience that gave him a whole wagon full of horrible coping mechanisms and bad habits(and from where the fic is going, I'm guessing you think similarly), but I wanted to know how you thought his training went. Anyway, just wanted to say how much I appreciate and love your work, Thank You!

WAAAH THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS!!! (but give all of the writing credit to @/eponatheestallion <33 cannot emphasize that enough) BUT! you basically got it in one! his knight training was NOT kind to him in the slightest. i mean, even with the canon material we HAVE it still doesn't particularly spell a good time. (staring at mipha, zelda and purah's diaries respectively. and creating a champion. and possibly aoc but thats a different timeline + i barely know anything abt it so its there In Spirit) i will warn you that this ones gonna be long bc botw diaries TEND TO BE YAP SESSIONS! AND im a yapper so i'll just give you the tldr:

lost's knight training was abhorrent for his mental health and plays into a LOT of his mannerisms and why he is the way he is

ANYWAY! i'll just talk abt things that have been established either in the au or in botw canon :) any blanks you can fill on your own

as for canon things heres some things that stood out to me (formatted to be paragraphs for my sanity):

"A youth named Link was brought to me a hundred years ago, covered in wounds and on death's doorstep. Link… So young, yet so courageous. He was the youngest knight to have ever been appointed to the Imperial Guard at Hyrule Castle. He was also a gifted swordsman who was selected as captain of Princess Zelda's personal guard. I thought his skills would be enough to defeat Ganon in glorious fashion…

It was the best we could do…" -Purah's Diary

~~~~~

"When I finally got around to asking why he's so quiet all the time, I could tell it was difficult for him to say. But he did. With so much at stake, and so many eyes upon him, he feels it necessary to stay strong and to silently bear any burden.

A feeling I know all too well… For him, it has caused him to stop outwardly expressing his thoughts and feelings. I always believed him to be simply a gifted person who had never faced a day of hardship. How wrong I was… Everyone has struggles that go unseen by the world… I was so absorbed with my own problems, I failed to see his." -Zelda's Diary ~~~~~

"At the request of Hyrule's king, a group of outsiders came to greet us at the domain. One of them was a Hylian child of only about four years of age. His name was Link. He made quite a first impression. He was curious and full of energy, with a ready smile. Are all Hylian children that way?

One thing that surely sets him apart is his swordsmanship, which I hear is exceptional. He has even bested adults. He must be somewhat reckless, however, as he was covered in bruises. Wishing to be helpful, I healed his wounds for him." ~~~~~

"Link came to visit the domain. It feels like forever since he was here last. He no longer resembles the child I first met. He is now an accomplished knight and keeper of the sword that seals the darkness. I am so proud. However… He hardly speaks anymore, and smiles even more rarely. He is still the kind soul I knew, but something has changed.

I asked him if something had happened, if something was wrong. He merely shook his head. Perhaps it is his newly acquired height, but I feel he is ever looking past me, into the distance beyond…" -Mipha's Diary

~~~~~ "The details of how Link obtained the sword a hundred years ago have been lost to the mists of time, but since he was in possession of it for a number of years prior to becoming a Champion, he was likely around twelve or thirteen years old when it happened."

~~~~~

"After the Champions for the Divine Beasts were chosen, there was an incident at Hyrule Castle. A Guardian went berserk during a test run. Link deftly defeated it, earning himself a great deal of recognition. Impressed, King Rhoam made him Princess Zelda's appointed knight. With no regard for his own personal safety, he loyally fulfilled his duty to guard Princess Zelda with his life." -Creating a Champion

(there will be another thing later but its separated for a Reason.) ANYWAY! these are like. BIG things in canonical material that I feel like are important, especially if they're highlighted. i'm not really going to elaborate much since its kind of spelled out already but i'll say a few things nonetheless (also for consistencies sake i'm going to say lost but do know this ALSO applies to wild) he was the youngest knight appointed in history. like even that alone is FUCKED??? i don't remember if it was something in canon, fanon or something kay n i made up (but it doesnt rlly matter since its canon to the lost hero au ANYWAY!) but he became a knight at TWELVE soon after pulling the sword. then proceeded to become a royal guard at 17. this is a kid surrounded by adults in a generally Unsafe Environment, that alone is enough for some level of fucked. ill explain the "hes been training since he was four" later since i have Thoughts about that, but on a unrelated note do notice that mipha makes the assumption that lost is reckless and not through actually seeing him being clumsy. hyrulean guard when i get you now, to me the vow of silence was something that stemmed from before the calamity and started up in his training. because thats a twelve year old being forced to be a hero when he never got the choice to. OBVIOUSLY hes going to shut down. again, this will be expanded upon later also. lost is canonically self sacrificial. VERY self sacrificial. no further comments, just saying OKAY. NOW ITS LATER BC ITS TIME TO YAP ABT THE "inspired by canon but like. its canon plus." canon is bent in specific ways bc the way link is characterized (in cac specifically) makes him very uh,,,, inhuman i suppose. i love looking at scenarios where decisions have consequences, and it's that specific reason why i enjoy "what if" aus so much.

yes, lost was still trained when he was four. no it was not formally. to me, lost had an interest in swordsmanship because his dads a knight! hes going to be exposed to at least a little bit at an early age. he was insistent on wanting to learn, so with the power of sticks, pot lids, and a lot of positive reinforcement, he learned how to do the movements of swordfighting. he'd never been given a proper sword until the guard brought him to zora's domain. lost's dad never wanted to force the position of hero onto him, so he never gave him a sword. everyone knows that he's the hero except him, and lost's dad would rather keep it that way until he's old enough to climb mount lanayru (it happens much earlier than that) now abt the fucking "According to tales told by the long-lived Zora, Link visited Zora's Domain when he was younger and formed a bond with them, defeating a Lynel and teaching various skills to Zora children. This story sheds light on both his physical abilities and his strength of character." from creating a champion just like. isn't canon in this. the only other recorded time lost fought a lynel in zoras domain was when he was already zelda's guard and he was not younger. so by proxy it must've been when he was four WHICH ISN'T HAPPENING SORRY GUYS!!!! i'm not having a four year old fight a lynel hero or not!!!! it's referenced in lost hero canon (the soldiers accompanied made jokes and tried to egg lost on but it got shut down real quick since a. his dad was there and b. literally anyone who have thinking caps would go "yeah um... no actually!") and now its fanon time :))) when lost was in the army, he was usually trained separately from the other knights, mostly because of skill difference. as a CHILD he was able to clear soldiers, he needed different training period. as for the actual formal training, it was extremely strict. terrible conditions stemmed from an awful reward "system" (that usually led to lost being extremely fatigued and starting an endless loop of punishment. there is a reason why lost can push through awful conditions: hes used to it) all blanketed with the justification of "he's the hero of hyrule." they trained him to be a weapon, not a person. he doesn't have a sense of self nor an identity outside of "hero" "champion" or "weapon." things like "brother" got stripped from him when he joined the academy. they didn't bother with setting up a future for him. he eventually figures his shit out but thats YEARS down the line, and even then he's still suffering from this,,,, self objectification? idk how else to describe it when he wasn't getting grilled for "not swinging his sword hard enough" or having his foot a centimeter off even though he hasnt had the privilege of Basic Necessities To Survive in (insert timeframe) he was usually doing something in the coliseum. as it turns out, having the hero show off in front of an audience by fighting a lynel (or multiple) is a GREAT money maker! shame he wasnt usually told beforehand!

being forced into heroism is a big reason as to why hes the silent knight. he never wanted this. being separated from his family (whom of which i have Many thoughts about. same for his childhood honestly) and surrounded by strangers who have no care for who he is but rather what he stands for was absolutely awful, and only made worse by his age. being silent and just dealing with it is how he coped, and its eventually going to boil over (just give it a few years) his knight training was one of THE worst things to happen to him, right under failing to save his kingdom and inadvertently being the cause of hyrule's demise. it's the reason why he acts the way he does. he wasn't allowed to forget, so instead it influences almost everything he does, says and thinks. SO YEAH IT WASNT A GOOD TIME

[theoddcatlady]

My Father in Chains

I remember the first time I met my father.

It was twelve years ago, so I would’ve been eight. It was a hot day, I was enjoying my third popsicle of the afternoon, my friends were hanging out with me, and then I heard the phone ring inside. I didn’t really care to go get it, so it faded into background noise, but I think my mom picked it up on the second or third ring.

A few minutes later, my mom came outside, and for a second I thought I’d forgotten to do some odd chore, she looked so serious. She just cleared her throat.

“Ryan, come inside and get cleaned up. We’re… we’re going to visit your father.”

I didn’t ask questions. I just said goodbye to my friends and went inside. My mom was quiet when I asked more questions, just helping me comb my hair and putting on my best clothing, the clothes I wore when my grandparents dragged me to church on Easter or Christmas. Sure, I knew I had to have a dad. As far as I knew, he’d left me and my mom when I was a baby. He’d never been a part of my life up to this point.

It was an hour’s drive to get there, and when we did, I thought we were entering a prison. Tall wire fencing, armed men guarding the fence. My mom just flashed them her ID and nodded to me in the backseat. One guard didn’t have the social graces to not gawk at me as we pulled into the prison.

The building was made of concrete, and there were no windows. Entering it there were even more guards with guns, each one looked meaner than the last. My mom squeezed my hand so tight I felt she was about to break my fingers. I didn’t complain- I was holding it back just as tight.

A pair of guards escorted us down three flights of stairs, with each step the temperature got colder and colder. There was no decoration on the wall, not a sound was heard other than the buzzing of the fluorescent lights and the sound of my footsteps echoing off the walls.

At the end of it all we were taken into a room with only a metal table and flimsy chairs as furniture. All of these were bolted to the floor. My mom sat me down on the chair. “He’ll be here in a little while, okay? Just be patient,” she said, fiddling with my bowtie.

The door on the other side of the room swung open and another pair of guards walked in, accompanied by the rattle of chains.

I held my breath. Was there a monster on the other side of those chains?

I can hardly say he looked like a monster. He looked like… any other human being, I suppose. Definitely paler, which I think the harsh lighting and his dark hair made him look even more washed out, but he hardly looked deserving of the chains wrapped around his ankles and wrists. He didn’t even struggle as he was led to the chair, the chains strapped to the table legs and floor as he patiently sat on the chair opposing me.

He smiled, and I realized who this had to be.

“… Dad?”

The man chuckled.

“Hello, Ryan. It’s so good to finally meet you. You look… almost like me. I’ve never seen myself in an imperfect mirror before.”

I didn’t really think I looked anything like this pale dude chained to a table, but I wasn’t going to object. I shuffled in my seat and glanced back at my mom. She remained impassive, not looking at my father with distaste or affection.

“Do you like Go Fish?”

I turned back around. I managed to force myself to nod and my father smiled.

“Let’s play some Go Fish. We have an hour, let’s use it.”

One of the guards rested a pack of cards in front of us. My father had just enough leeway for his wrists to allow him to shuffle and deal the cards. He picked up his hand and glanced down at them.

“Now… you have any threes?”

By the end of the hour, I’d not won a single round of Go Fish. I’d never played with an adult that wouldn’t just let me win before, it was a new kind of frustrating. But it was still strangely fun. My father was quiet, but he was never cruel. He could even be described as gentle, never raising his voice, looking at me with such… fondness that I never knew from a father figure before.

I was actually sad when the guards picked up the chains, muttering quietly that visiting hour was over. My father sighed as he stood, glaring at the guard closest to him who flinched and nearly dropped the chain he was supposed to be holding.

“I’d love for you to come visit me again next week, Ryan. Would you mind?”

I heard my mom gasp but before she could respond, I blurted out, “Can I?”

My father smiled and reached forward, gently fluffing my hair. “Of course. I don’t have many other visitors down here. It’s very lonely. Be sure to do your chores and listen to your mother, and I’m sure she’ll bring you back soon,” his dark eyes flicked up towards my mom, “won’t you, dear?”

I turned and watched as my mother took a deep breath, pressing her lips together in a firm line. “… We’ll see.” She hurried over and took my hand, practically dragging me out of the room. In hindsight, it was clear she couldn’t wait to be away from him, but I didn’t know why.

She didn’t try to remind me about going to see my father again, but I remembered. I even got into my Sunday best all on my own, combed my hair. I never combed my hair on my own, not until then. My mom came into my room to see me ready, and she only sighed.

“Come on then. Let’s go see him.”

It became our Saturday tradition. After lunch, I’d get dressed in my nice clothes, I’d go wait in the car, and we’d drive to the prison my father was kept in. My father would be brought into the room, still chained up like some sort of wild animal, and we’d play card games. Go Fish was my favorite, but he taught me how to play Old Maid, War, Crazy Eights, Rummy… for being a kid obsessed with video games, I really appreciated that simple deck of cards and the dozen games my dad knew all the rules to. It was a real celebration when I finally beat him at Go Fish, I ended up leaping off my chair and giving him a big hug. I don’t think he expected that. I’d never touched him before that, he was usually the one giving me a pat on the shoulder or a tousle of my hair. He was ice cold to the touch, but after a moment of shock, he did his best to hug me back.

I wanted nothing more than for him to take his chains off so he could really give me a big hug back, but I knew better than to ask. If he was allowed to have his chains off, they wouldn’t be on him during our visits. But sometimes I’d imagine what it’d be like to go out and have a real father son day, like the rest of my friends got to have. Maybe go to the movies, or to a theme park. Have a real day outside with him, so I could show the world I had a really good dad.

Of course, as I grew older, I realized this wasn’t a normal relationship to have at all. And this wasn’t a normal prison either. Come on now. What kind of prison only has one prisoner kept underground in literal freaking chains? I wasn’t allowed to roam the place, but it only took some craning of my neck to realize there was just no other place down here for someone to be kept.

Why was my dad down there? What did he do that was so horrible that he couldn’t even be let outside for some fresh air? I didn’t know how to ask my mom… but I decided it was best to go straight to the source on this.

I was sixteen. I’d not yet missed a visit with my father, and I still dressed to my best when I went to go see him. You couldn’t force me into anything other than my basketball shorts and hoodies then, unless I was going to see my dad. In which case, suit, tie, combed hair.

I was shuffling the deck for another round of War when my mom left the room to go to the bathroom, accompanied by a guard escort. This was my chance.

“Why are you here?”

My dad cocked his head to the side. “Here, as in the room with you? Or do you mean here in general?”

I gave him a dirty look. “The latter. And you knew I meant that,” I said.

He chuckled.

“I know, I know, I had to tease. Well, right now, it’s convenience. I’m at war myself, you see, and not just with these cards.”

I frowned as I handed him his half of the deck. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’ve had enemies, right?” My dad set down a card, and I followed suit. “Some enemies are just… irritating. Like mosquitoes that rise from a swamp, easily swatted, but barely worth the effort in the long run. Then there are enemies that are like wolves. Dangerous, feral, wild beasts, thirsty for blood and hungry for death. My wolf thinks he owns the entire world. I disagree. Unfortunately, after an injury during my war, I was taken here. At the moment, it’s simply convenient to play along. Oh, War.”

I’d not even noticed we had the same number on our cards.

“Convenient? Dad, you’re in prison, chained to a table, like a mile underground, with enough armed guards to blow you to pieces. There’s nowhere you can go.”

When my father smiled, this time I saw the darkness in it. The amusement. I glanced around the room and saw how none of the guards could make eye contact with me.

“Oh, this isn’t my prison. This is my castle. I’ll stay here for as long as it suits me… it does… make it much easier to see you, after all. And I like seeing you.”

Really, what I should’ve taken from this was that my father was possibly delusional given he saw his prison as a castle. What I did take from it was that my dad liked me. Or at least liked to see me.

I would have asked more but my mom came back then, so we just resumed playing War like none of the previous conversation ever happened. Even our goodbyes were just the normal ‘see you next week’ as the guards escorted him back out the other door.

On the way home, I did ask my mom one thing-

“How did you and Dad meet?”

My mom visibly flinched and I knew I asked something she didn’t want to answer. So she didn’t, she just gripped the steering wheel tighter and remained silent the rest of the way home.

She never liked talking about him, my dad. Six out of the seven days of the week, it was like he didn’t exist to her. They never spoke to each other, and whenever my dad referred to her as ‘dear’ she looked ready to sock him in the face, but she kept to her side of the room and just waited for the visiting hour to be over. I didn’t have the nerve to ask her to leave, even though I was clearly old enough that I didn’t need my mom supervising everything I did.

I love my father, I really do. It’s wrong, now knowing what I know, but I love him. So I didn’t ask any more hard questions that I didn’t really want answers to. I just wanted to spend time with my dad.

But last year my mom went to the hospital feeling a little weakness and came back with a breast cancer diagnosis. She tried to seem calm about it, just stated how far along it was and what they’d have to do in order to treat it. But she was scared.

She knew she was going to die.

It was fall, right before she passed away.She was watching reruns of MASH in the living room, lost in thought. I was working on job applications, when she turned the TV off and blurted out, “You need to know something about your father.”

I practically threw my application across the room as I hurried to her side. She gripped my hand tightly and bowed her head.

“The first time we went to go see your father was the first time I’d met him in person.”

My expression must’ve been hilarious, given how my mom actually laughed at it. “It makes sense, honest. My husband… he couldn’t have children. We decided to have someone donate, so we went to the clinic. At the time we thought the donor was a college professor. But when you were born we knew that wasn’t true.”

My mom leaned forward, brushing her hand against my cheek. “Your eyes were black. Pure black. I was so scared… but then you looked like every other baby. I couldn’t forget that though. My husband never recovered from that shock, it’s why he left. He couldn’t stand to be even in the room with you… he said he was seeing things in the shadows. Monsters.”

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t exactly call my mom insane, I knew she wasn’t even if she sounded like a complete nutter.

“Ryan, you’re not a normal boy. You’re different. You’ve always been different. A few years before we began seeing him, men in black suits came to the door. They inspected you, explained what you were to me. They said they had your father somewhere where he couldn’t hurt anyone. But they also said that one day they might need my help to keep him locked up in there… earning his cooperation was vital to their success.”

“Is that why you took me to see him?” I asked.

My mom nodded. “Yes. They called me that day and let me know that Soich had requested to see you. That’s his real name, it’s a strange one, I know. I thought it was going to be a one time thing, but he kept insisting I bring you every week… I didn’t want to see him, Ryan. I’ve never wanted to see him. But it was the best way to make sure he didn’t try to escape.”

My head was reeling. It was so much to take in. I sat back in the couch, just trying to make sense of what sounded like complete nonsense.

The only thing I could think of saying was, “Why do they not want him to get out?”

My mom shuddered and looked at her hands.

“… Next time we go to his castle, ask him.”

My mom would never go see Soich again though. By the end of the week she was hospitalized. It was the first time I missed going to see my dad because I was by her side. I didn’t leave it until she was gone.

I knew where the ‘castle’ was, my mom had it plugged into the GPS, but after the funeral was the first time I went by myself. Taking the journey by myself made it all seem even more insane. It was far in the woods, no one could just stumble on it accidentally.

When I flashed my ID at the gate, I should’ve known that the look the two guards exchanged meant nothing but trouble for me.

My father was waiting for me in the meeting room when I got down there, and he was clearly agitated. “Where were you?” He said as he got up, the chains jerking at the table.

I didn’t say anything, I just sat across from him and stared at him.

“Mom’s dead.”

He breathed in sharply before taking a seat. “The cancer?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Damn. I rather liked her.”

“You didn’t even know her,” I blurted out. “She told me… she told me that there was a mix up with the donors. She was never your ‘dear’.”

Soich cocked his head to the side. “Just because I wasn’t intimately involved with her doesn’t mean I didn’t like her. She was a good woman. A good mother for you. I liked her spirit.”

“She told me that you’re a monster.”

I expected him to be… I don’t know, at least annoyed, angry by that. Instead, he just nodded.

“I am.”

“That’s bullshit!” I slammed my fists into the table. I’d never once gotten angry at my dad before then. The only times I came close were when he kicked my ass in cards for the tenth time in a day. “You can’t be… I’m not…”

Soich chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it, do you?” He leaned in close, close enough to where I could see into his dark eyes.

They flooded with black, and for a moment I felt that fear my mother must have when she laid eyes on me for the first time.

“I’m a king. An unknown king of shadows, and you are my prince. They were just waiting for a chance to get their hands on you, and now you’re here.”

I felt ice cold. I glanced at the guards at the door before I got to my feet.

Both of them pointed their guns at me. The opposing door slammed open and I turned to see more guards entering… with chains just my size. Soich glanced at them before rolling his eyes and getting to his feet.

“Ryan, all you have to do is tell me. Do you want to leave?”

I was scared. Terrified. But when I heard my father telling me that, I knew that he was my only chance.

“Please. I want to go home.”

My father nodded.

“Then go.”

Soich pulled his arms, ripping the chains straight out of the ground, links snapping like twigs. The guards barely got their guns pointed at him when he gripped onto those chains and started slamming them around the room, using them as weapons.

I dove to the ground as the guns began to fire, shielding my head with my arms. I heard my father’s laughter as the guards began to scream, and I lifted my head to see that the chains that once seeminglyheld him down were soaked in blood. Guards crumpled as my father beat them with his makeshift flails, sending them to the ground.

It was when his shadow started to ripple that I clambered for the door. The guards that had been blocking my way were laying far too still on the ground. I looked back one more time to see a clawed hand paw its away out of my father’sshadow, and that was the last I saw of him.

I ran. I ran out of that prison and got in my car, speeding out of those woods so fast I definitely broke the speed limit.

Up until now, I’ve had nightmares that I’d answer the door to men in black suits waiting out there, with chains to hold me down. Whatever they’d do to me in that prison, god, I don’t even want to think about it.

Last Saturday… I decided to go back. I needed to see why they weren’t coming for me. I wasn’t sleeping. I was too scared to even leave my house.

I don’t know what I expected when I turned the corner, but I certainly didn’t expect that the prison would be gone.

The fence is little more than shredded bits of wire, and the building itself is just a pile of rubble. I can’t even get into the basement, even if I wanted to. No guards. No sign of life. Just the remains of a building.

Before I left though, I saw something in the treeline. At first I thought it was a dog, but it was far too large. I felt it watching me, and I felt it hated me.

But it didn’t approach me. It only howled before it bounded back into the forest, and in moments it was like it was never there to begin with.

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

This Must Be My Dream - Ross MacDonald - Part 2

Summary: The aftermath of meeting Ross at a wedding and the starts of your relationship.

Warnings: None really. A few swear words. References to past smutty relations between the characters.

Authors Note: First part goes into main character's relationship with Matty and a look at the dynamics of their friendship. Then we head into cute Ross territory.

3.4k words

Part One

You had known Matty and his family your entire life; what with Matty only being a year older than you and his mum and dad being your God parents, you were always around each other’s houses for tea or together at family functions growing up. Always sat together at the kids tables, which used to make the pair of you roll your eyes, as you itched to be sat with the grown ups especially as you transitioned into teenagers.

Matty had always been musical, you remembered him learning to play the drums as a kid, even though he wasn’t bad you were forever grateful he had met George at school and invited him to be in the band because how different life might have been if he hadn’t.

You were as close as two kids could be considering your families forced you together from a young age, even though you had moved out of Wilmslow pretty early in life at the age of six, granted it was only fifteen minutes up the road to Hale but you didn’t get to see him as much as you liked and maybe if your family hadn’t had moved, you would have been more involved with Ross, Adam and George by now but you knew Auntie Denise and Uncle Tim were never far for you go visit and you could always be found in their living room whether it was annoying Matty or looking after his brother Louis.

As life moved on and you both started to grow up, you tried to stay in contact as much as possible but with the band becoming an international sensation at the release of their debut album. The two of you pretty much didn’t see each other like you would have liked for roughly seven years as The 1975 became his entire life and you started your own career in fashion. You were always the first call for Denise whenever she needed help for an event or photoshoot, which you were always grateful for, always looking after you even as an adult. At this point in your life you were pretty sure you had seen Denise more times in the past two weeks than you had Matty in five years.

Which is funny because despite being as close as brother and sister, you had never formally met his band mates properly apart from George. When you were both eighteen, you drunkly made out with the drummer at a house party over twelve years ago but that hardly counted for knowing him. Especially since you could count on one hand how many times you had spoke to him over the phone in the past twelve years since that moment.

You had of course been to several shows over the years from the tiny dingy venues in Manchester at the beginning of their career, where they were always swept away in the mania of the fans, so you always settled for a quick ‘congratulatory text’ or when they started selling out arenas but you were swept away in an emergency or simply didn’t have time for more than a hug and a smacker to Matty’s cheek as you proclaimed ‘you were super proud of him’ before leaving just as quickly as you arrived.

So you wanted to make sure that now you had Ross in your life, the little fucker included you and invited you to gigs, events and as many birthdays celebrations as possible, that allowed you to fully love on him and his bandmates, especially the bassist! Because they deserved it and you had coming up ten years of unclaimed love for them to soak up!

You personally wanted to soak up the serotonin that ran through your veins whilst you were in Ross’ company; which unfortunately you hadn’t had the privilege of after the morning after the wedding. 

After your kiss in the late summer air, the handsome brunette pulled you along with him through the corridors of the wedding venue, giggling as you reached your rooms. But ever the perfect gentleman, Ross didn’t take it any further than a heavy make out session on your hotel room bed. God you really wanted to! But you didn’t want him to think you were always that easy and he promised a proper date before he took you to bed.

But that isn’t to say you didn’t enjoy yourself! When you say “heavy make out session”, youre totally lying, what you really meant to say was there was a lot of touching and the thought of how his cock felt in your hand and how his hands felt on you, is what kept you awake at night whilst he was on tour in the US. 

Thankfully you had work whilst they were away and on the run up to Christmas, now you and the band were all back in Cheshire, it was like music for your ears. When you had got wind from Denise that Matty was home, you jumped straight in your car and drove the fifteen minutes back to Wilmslow to get to the little shit!

Upon letting yourself into the house, you found him lounging in his mother’s living room with his feet tucked underneath him and a cuppa in his hand. Ohh how very rock n’ roll! Taking off in an almost sprint, Matty barely had time to put his mug down before you were jumping on top of him to roughly pull him into a hug like you always did when you were kids. Matty’s arm immediately around your middle as he returned your affection, the sound of the shutter of his mum’s iPhone alerted you to the fact you knew that picture was ending up on the internet later.

Pulling away from the embrace, you punched Matthew in the arm without even flinching. The older man rushing to grab hold of the wounded area. “The fuck was that for?” He hissed at you.

“That is for keeping Ross away from me for nearly twenty years! You dickhead!”

“So you needed to punch me?” Matty rubbed his arm, rolling his eyes at you.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ve done something else that warranted it but mainly the Ross thing.”  You shrugged; moving to get your own personal space back as you settled next to him, Denise brought you your own cuppa and placing it on the coffee table in front of you with a warm knowing smile before making herself busy in the other room .

“When are you going to shag him anyway? Sick of him moping about and hearing him wank on the tour bus like a teenager to be honest.” His tone annoyingly nonchalant, sipping his brew as he peered over the mug at you, like he didn’t just say something completely crude to you.

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as you registered what he said. You absolutely weren’t going to divulge that you were on the other end of the phone during those moments because as much as Ross was a gentleman. He had needs and you absolutely had needs too, especially when it came to the sexy bassist in Matty’s band.

“We’re going on a date next Tuesday, actually. We’re heading into Manchester to see Wicked and to grab some dinner!” You couldn’t help but smile thinking about him. Matty reciprocated your smile, genuinely happy that his two best friends were happy and with one another. 

“You gonna shag him?”

“Why do you care so much about our sex life?” You sent him your least threatening glare. “That’s a little weird even for you Healy! But to shut you up. No! I don’t sleep with guys on the first date!”

Matty scoffed. You glared. He changed the subject very quickly to when you were were coming to see them on tour. 

“Manchester. Obviously! Can’t really have you guys smashing your hometown gig without me. Can I?” You grinned.

“Yeah, you want smashing alright!” He mumbled.

But not quiet enough because Matty shot you a glare, when your foot shot out to kick him and he had to stop himself from spilling his brew all down his front!

Your date with Ross the next week felt like a dream. You went to a fancy restaurant, sat in a secluded booth near the back, ate delicious food, drank incredible wine and giggled like school kids as you spoke in hushed whispers. Sneaking kisses to the scruff of his beard just to see him blush and see that smile of his creep slyly onto his face.

He paid for the bill, much to your protest before holding out his hand for you to take before setting off for the theatre, where you walked hand in hand the entire way. Once you had taken your seat, his hand settled easily on your thigh as you snuggled into his side to watch the show. Your hand resting over his muscular thigh, neither of you moving for the entirety of the time you were inside the theatre before leaving and kissing you on your doorstep and a promise of seeing you soon.

You had never been so enamoured by someone before, he made you feel dizzy and you hadn’t even explored every avenue of your relationship yet but you knew when you did. Ross Macdonald was going to ruin the concept of every single other man for and you didn’t mind one bit whatsoever!

Since your first official date just after Christmas, during that limbo week where nobody knows what the fuck is going on, you hadn’t managed to actually go on a second date or really hang out casually because you had headed straight back to work and so had he and then before you knew it, they were on their UK tour and bringing out Taylor Swift. (Honestly the audacity when Matty knew you weren’t able to make it to London!) But honestly now that you knew you were only a few hours away from seeing your boys. You couldn’t contain the excitement that was bubbling inside you.

Walking backstage before their Manchester show; hand firmly in Ross’ you made effort say to hello to everyone backstage as he guided you towards the green room they were all chilling in. A bright smile on Adam’s face was the first thing you saw as he sat with his wife Carly and jumped up to greet you. As the guitarist hugged you, your eyes flitted across the room to see who else was here when you landed on your Uncle Tim, Louis and Matty in a corner before spotting the gorgeous Charli XCX sat next to George who was already jumping up with a mischievous look etched on his face, a look that you definitely didn’t like the look of!

“There she is!”  He hollered. Holding his arms out for you hug him. “The one who got away!”  He proclaimed boisterously just as your arms wrapped around his middle. George so tall you had to lean back so you could look up at the giant properly and rolled your eyes at him. 

“Get over yourself! We made out whilst drunk like fourteen years ago G! Let it go!”  

You pretended to scowl at him before smiling brightly at his girlfriend. “It’s lovely to meet you! I’m unfortunately related to Matty! And you’re unfortunately with idiot here!” You joked, reaching out to greet Charli with a hug and kiss to the cheek.

“I wouldn’t let it go if I made out with you either to be fair!” She grinned.

“I like you!” You laughed loudly, turning over your shoulder to catch George and Ross’ gaze. “Entertain yourselves boys!” To which you only received a smirk from George, Ross immediately by your side before venturing off to say hello to your Uncle Tim and the other guests before you headed to your seats just before the lights went out.

After making your way to your seats which were in fact on Ross’ side of the stage, near enough you could sneak good video’s of him to show him later. Or well for you to look over later! Your heart swelled with pride as you watched the four of them, including the rest of their touring band perform their latest record. A performance you knew came straight from the depths of your weird little mate’s mind. You just couldn’t believe that all of these people were here because of your Matty and the boys. 

You beamed as you saw Carly come on stage to sing, Matty hyping her up as they sung together and looking fondly up at Hann. You let out a wolf whistle as he kissed his wife before she left the stage as they continued part one of the show.

Your heart ached as you watched Ross kiss the top of Matty’s head as he left for intermission. Sending a quick text to your man for him during his brief break as they changed up the stage ready for the hits. 

The bassist in my fave band is so hot! Going to have to leave you for him! X

Go for it! Heard you’re in with a shot! Xx

Giggling at his response, you felt like you didn’t have time to get over your flushed cheeks as George was back onstage doing a bit and then Charli was running on stage too! Quick to record her and post it to your instagram story.

‘Obsessed with u @charlixcx Leave your bf for me! @bedforddanes75’

You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself knowing that George would have something sarcastic to say when he saw your post. Tempted to post something else, your attention was promptly brought back to the stage as the boys were back. Ross dressed in all black had literally stopped you in your tracks as you took him in. Bringing your phone back up, you zoomed in on him as they launched into ‘Too Shy’ Already knowing what you’d caption it if you were to post it online. And it definitely wasn’t PG!

You were honestly having the time of your life, not that you had any doubts you would have a great evening. You always did, no matter the venue or how big the audience was. Matty and the boys always delivered a high quality performance worthy of all the love they were currently receiving.

They were in then middle of their ‘Greatest Hits’ section of the show when Matty addressed the crowd. “How are you all doing?” Twenty two thousand people now just screaming back, making you chuckle. “I mean you just screamed. That is literally just noise!”  He laughed. “Our next song, we don’t really do but Ross is trying to impress someone!”

You gasped at his words. Matty clearly trying to embarrass the both of you. A mixture of ‘Ohhhhss’ and cheers echoed around the arena as Ross tried not show any reaction to the comment but his eyes scanned the section you were in, catching your gaze for a millisecond before looking at his feet.

“Not that she needs impressing. I mean look at him.” Matty gestured to Ross. “Plus I’ve known her my entire life. This one’s for you dickhead!”  He grinned just as the stage illuminated in a soft green and pink. 

Your jaw dropped as soon as he finished his little shoutout. I mean I guess the sentiment was kind of sweet even if he did call you a dickhead but you love that Ross remembered that you’ve always loved Menswear. That he got Matty to pop it back on the setlist for you. Now this was one you didn’t mind screaming the lyrics out dramatically too whilst nobody knew who you were! It was a vibe! A memory you were actually apart of and you loved that the hardcore fans were obsessed too!

As the set started to come to a close. You took your phone out to record Hann’s incredible guitar solo during The Sound and the audience’s reaction as they jumped around. The hype the fans gave him, honestly warmed your heart so much.

But it was during Give Yourself A Try whilst they were all giving it some proper welly, that you gulped, most likely audible in the moment you tried to catch on camera. The soft ‘Holy shit!’ Captured as you tried not to shake too much. When they all took their moment to soak up the love and say thank you to the fans. 

Ross pulled out the bobble that was holding his hair up, throwing it into the crowd before running his hand through his hair as he silently said thank you to the fans. Feeling like you were literally going to drool as the naughty thoughts rushed through your head. You had to rub your legs together, to try and release some of the tension as heat rushed between your legs and decided you weren’t going to wait any longer. You needed out of this crowd and you needed Ross now.

The band’s afterparty was at the venue this evening, just a chilled evening with most of their families in the audience tonight. You were giggling in the corner with Charli and Carly when the boys all arrived, nice and refreshed as they said hello to all their family and friends. The three of you stuck together as they made the rounds, agreeing to make a ‘The 1975 Baes’ chat that consisted of the three of you, when Hann arrived; sweeping in to kiss his wife and place a soft kiss on both yours and Charli’s cheeks. Asking if you had enjoyed the show, when George appeared next and copying Adam’s actions.

Matty was someone you knew would take forever to get to you but that was okay, you’d had a lifetime of time with him. Everyone else could have their turn. But as the boys all started to congregate around you girls, you looked around the room for Ross, landing on him saying goodbye to a pal he caught your gaze and smiled brightly at you as he made his way over.

You had anything but pleasantries on your mind though, you were so hot for him you actually don’t think you’d had minded him taking you right there and then in front of everybody. Passing Charli your glass of wine, a soft ‘excuse me’ on your lips, you took several strides to meet him in the middle, grabbing his hand without a word and pulling him to a corner nobody was in for some privacy.

Once you were mainly out of the way of everybody else; you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet his lips. His hands found your hips quickly as you kissed him as filthy as you could, the growl that left his throat as you tugged the hair rooted at the back of his neck egged you on more as his hands moved down to hold on to your ass as you tried to get as physically close to him as possible.

“Did…You.. Enjoy… The…Show”  He managed to mumble out in between kisses.

“I did. ” You told him, finally pulling away to look at his beautiful eyes. “I loved the surprise by the way. I can’t believe you remembered that it’s my fave!”  You pecked his lips again. “Didn’t love being called a dickhead in front of 22,000 people but we move!”  You smiled softly at him.

“God you’re so hot!”  You sighed; playing with the chain hanging round his neck, before moving you hands further down his chest.

“Have you seen yourself darling?”

“Hmmm.” You hummed. “Had to check how flustered I was as soon as I got back here. Needed to look semi put together in front of other people.” 

“We’re still in front of everyone!” Ross cocked an eyebrow; smirking at your now disheveled look.

“And it’s taking everything in me not to fuck you right here MacDonald!” You challenged him, raising your own eyebrow.

“What happened to your three date rule? We’ve only officially been on one you know!”

“I’d count the wedding and tonight if want to?”  You shrugged. “Plus pretty sure we’re past formalities when I had your cock in my mouth within twenty four hours of meeting you my love.”  

“You have me there, sweetheart!” Ross chuckled.

“Would have let you have me at the wedding too if I wasn’t so desperate for you to think I was a good girl and not an easy shag!” You laughed. “You think they’re gonna miss us if we sneak out?”

“Nahh I think they’ll manage!” He teased; pulling you back in by your belt loops.

“Come on then MacDonald, you ready to rock my world!” You grinned, pressing a kiss to his handsome face before pulling him back out of the event room to find literally anywhere for a piece of privacy so you could have your way with him.

The only acknowledgement of your absence upon your return thirty minutes later was the smirk from George, who raised his bottle of beer at you from where he was seated on a sofa and the fact when you looked at your phone you had a notification off @trumanblack An instagram story of the two of you mid kiss, booty grab and all and a cute little “That’s my bestie!” sticker. Simply captioned.

Consider her impressed! 

[copperfirebird]

I blame discord... you know who you are...

Chase Young had felt out-of-sorts for nearly twelve hours when he sat down to meditate. There was an upset in his energy that he traced through his meridians to the place where his stolen draconic power filled the void left when he'd bartered his soul away for…

For what? It seemed like he could hardly remember it now beyond his seething rage at Hannibal Roy Bean. It had been more important than everything else in his life, once.

Dragging his attention back to what he was doing, Chase focused on the turmoil in his chest. He realized he felt the pull of a shen gong wu awakening. That hadn't happened since… was it the Eagle Scope? That had been a decade ago at least, hadn't it? He sensed them only rarely, usually the most powerful items, and they were some of the few toys he bothered gathering.

Chase emptied his mind, willing the wu to speak to him, to tell him where it rested and what it was. When the image resolved, he snapped out of his meditative state. The Zhiji Shuttle.

Dashi had invented it when he'd met someone who reminded him so strongly of his deceased teacher that he was certain she was his soul returned. When its string was wrapped around someone, it allowed the wielder to see who that person had been before drinking Meng Po's tea. That did seem troublesome, though Chase didn't think it was quite as powerful as he'd been expecting. Hadn't there been a second wu that went with it? Perhaps he'd recall when the other revealed itself.

Still, it seemed like he'd best go claim the Zhiji Shuttle before someone else did.

He summoned his armor and let the cats know he would be stepping out.

"Shall I come with you, Master Chase?" Omi had appeared along with the cats taking Chase's orders, his black and red robes somehow still looking too big on him even as he'd grown into his adult height.

Chase preened at his apprentice's anticipation of his desires. "Yes, Omi. Perhaps you will enjoy a challenge against one of your former teammates today."

Omi smiled but his eyes were distant. "It has been too many months since the last shen gong wu battle. I was starting to wonder if they had all turned up."

"Not likely," Chase laughed. "The last time they were cataloged I believe there were six hundred and nine known shen gong wu."

"Grandmaster Dashi must have been very busy," Omi said, eyes wide.

"He only created about a hundred or so," Chase clarified. "Letting everyone think he built all of them is typical, though. Come, let's see about today's hunt."

Chase led Omi to the location he'd felt from the Zhiji Shuttle, and so they found themseves atop a Japanese teahouse, looking down over a well-maintained garden with the ocean in the distance. Chase caught Omi looking a bit wistfully at the water and imagined his student feeling the pull of the tides as he had done as a young man.

"It has just awakened, so we should have at least half an hour before the monks get here," Chase told him. "If you find it quickly enough, we can leave without seeing them, if you prefer."

Omi bowed to his teacher and leapt down onto the grounds of the garden while Chase stayed above, trying to follow the energy of the Shuttle more precisely. Something in the air here made him feel slightly dizzy, and the effect was unpleasant.

Chase was startled to hear Omi's voice ringing out below. "Jack Spicer!" He groaned at the thought. He hadn't seen Jack in years, had assumed that perhaps the worm had either had the sense to find a new hobby or had managed to bleed to death somewhere after a showdown. Already out of sorts, the idea of Spicer turning up did nothing to improve his mood as he leapt down to watch Omi's conversation.

The laugh that echoed across the clearing was deeper and less annoying than Chase remembered. It took him only a moment to line up the mental image of the evil boy genius with the actual man standing at the foot of a tall, arched footbridge.

"It has been too long since I saw you!" Omi was hugging Jack like an old friend, which Chase supposed he was to his student. He frowned nonetheless. Isolating Omi from his fellow monks had taken considerable effort, and he was not inclined to see it undone by Spicer of all people.

"Well, yeah, that was kind of the point," Jack said, but he did not elaborate. Chase frowned as Jack continued, "Look at you, doing the whole Heylin Omi thing again, huh? How's that treating you?"

"You are a sight for painful noses! Why are you hunting this shen gong wu?"

At Omi's question, though, Jack pulled away like he'd been shocked, his eyes wide and his head darted around. "There's a wu? I'm- I'm not here for it, okay? Leave me alone, it's all yours, I swear."

"You okay, babe?"

Someone else had entered the space without Chase noticing, and judging from his student's reaction, without Omi noticing either. Odd.

"Yeah, just. Flashbacks, you know." Jack was stepping away from Omi like he feared the younger man. As he should, Chase thought, but it didn't answer any of his questions. The stranger put an arm around Jack, subtly positioning himself between Jack and Omi, and spoke in a quiet, calm voice with his mouth just below Jack's ear.

The intimate gesture bothered Chase in a way he couldn't fully comprehend. He cast around for a reason for his annoyance. If Omi stayed distracted, they would definitely see the monks shortly, and with him already off-balance from seeing Jack, Chase preferred not to deal with the emotional fallout today. He decided to cut to the chase with Jack himself.

"Why are you here then, worm?" Chase asked, stepping out into the clearing as well. Jack managed to go even more pale, somehow, and the stranger's arm tightened around him.

"Rude," the man said, glaring at Chase. "This is a public park, you can't complain about people messing up your cosplay photos."

Chase narrowed his eyes at the stranger, and Jack jumped forward, putting himself in front of the other man with a nervous laugh. "We're just walking- walking around, Chase! I'll pretend I never even saw you, okay?"

That didn't make the situation any less suspicious. "Yes, but why are you here, if not chasing wu?"

"Max and I live here? Well, not here because it's the park, but in San Francisco?"

"San Francisco? Are we not in Japan?" Omi said.

The man behind Jack- Max, Chase thought the name, almost against his will- was blinking at them now. He made Chase's skin crawl, for no reason the warlord could understand. Something was wrong about all of this, and Chase leaned in for a closer look at Jack, trying to figure out what was different.

"You've changed," Chase said, and he intended it as an observation but Jack rolled his eyes disrespectfully.

"I grew up, Chase," Jack said, and yes, he had, but that wasn't it.

Chase finally put his finger on it. "Your eyes are green." Something about the difference unnerved Chase, or maybe it was just that everything about this day was unnerving Chase. Honestly he should just murder the worm and his partner and be done with it, but it seemed likely Omi would find that disappointing.

"Oh! God, I almost forgot about those contacts I used to wear. Yeah, this is my natural color, same as my hair," which, yes, Chase realized now was a brassier red than it used to be. "I don't have time for the upkeep these days, because I have a life now, and I'd prefer not to die today, so…" Jack was babbling, and Chase resisted the urge to reach out and close his mouth for him.

"They're not cosplayers, are they, Jack?" Max asked, stepping backwards now.

"No. No they're not."

"I have located the Zhiji Shuttle!" Omi crowed, hurrying back into the small clearing. "Look, Master Chase! I was able to sense it, as you have been teaching me."

"Good work," Chase said, not looking away from Jack and his… his whatever they were to each other.

"I have often wondered if you knew me in a previous life, Jack Spicer! Now I will find out. Zhiji Shuttle!" Omi shouted before Chase could tell him to stop. The wooden device shot out of his hands, leaving a red thread in Omi's grasp. It spun around Jack two or three times before returning back to Omi's hands.

Jack made a panicked, choking noise as the string tightened around him. As he tried to grab at the string, his image seemed to shimmer and reform- his skin was darker, and so was the red of his hair, but his eyes were just as green, and he wore grey and pale green robes. The sight of him hit Chase as hard as blow he'd ever taken in a fight.

"Yuehan…" he whispered. All this time Jack had been Yuehan's reincarnation? How had he missed the man's return? They had been lovers before everything fell apart, surely he should have recognized him, even with the ridiculous costumes he'd worn.

"You know him?" Omi asked. "I had thought- I had thought I might feel something else about him, but I feel no differently than I did before."

"It can only show you the past, Omi, not explain it. Not fix it." Chase snatched the Zhiji Shuttle away from Omi and the string shattered into flecks of light, along with the illusion that had hung over Jack.

Chase sneered at Jack's partner. "And who are you, then? Kaila, come to steal him away again?" That would certainly explain why the man made him feel sick. Chase triggered the Zhiji Shuttle as Jack reached for Max, and the Shuttle wound them together into an embrace. Chase roared in anger even before the magic shimmered into place, because he knew he'd be confronted with the image of Yuehan in the arms of-

-of-

Now Omi was staring too, his jaw hanging open. "Master Chase, is that… you?"

Yuehan looked just as Chase had seen him a moment ago, panicked and angry and in the protective arms of a young monk in blue tunic and trousers, with his long black hair falling in his face despite his best efforts to pull it back, and while Chase had never seen a funhouse mirror he felt like the world itself was mocking him with his reflection.

He knew perfectly well that he'd given his soul away for power once. He'd never considered what that could imply.

Chase flung the Zhiji Shuttle back at Omi, who caught it without thinking. "Come, before the monks arrive and make this worse." He stalked away, but when his student didn't immediately follow, he looked back.

Max was pressing a black rectangular tool into Omi's hand. It reminded him of a wax tablet, but he suspected it was a phone not unlike the ones he always saw in Kimiko's hands.

"He seems like a dick," he heard the young man whisper. "And you seem lonely. Here, take my phone. Jack's number is in there, you can call or text, okay? The back of the case has a solar charger. I'll get a new one."

Chase watched from the corner of his vision, furious but frozen to the spot. Omi took the phone in both hands and tucked it away in his sleeve, then bowed carefully. "You are most generous, Friend Max."

"Solar means you put it in the sun," Jack clarified with a sigh. "I don't know what just happened, or what I've missed, but take care, cheeseball."

"Do you think my apprentice needs your help?" Chase sneered, looking back at them. "I could kill both of you with barely a thought."

Max took Jack's hand, and there was a set to his jaw that made Chase shiver. "We're going to walk away slowly, and you're going to let us, and you never have to see either of us again. Understood?"

Chase didn't bother to acknowledge the implied threat, but neither did he move to stop them. Even once they'd disappeared from sight, he couldn't seem to put aside what he'd seen.

"Come," he said again to Omi, nodding toward something green in the sky, and Omi turned away thoughtfully, stepping close enough for his master to take them both away from the strange scene.

[ohyangchon]

For an artist, Jangil could not remember how he had looked like even though he looked at himself daily in the mirror to get dressed for work. He created many works for his adopted family, illustrations of an idyllic life he envisioned, but not once had he been able to craft a self-portrait since he had first picked up that piece of charcoal in therapy so many years ago.

Nobody had really forced him to create it - though it had been admittedly alarming when he had scribbled over any attempt at drawing his own face, frustrated and seemingly struggling to reconcile his adult appearance with his current self. Even now, resting his hand on the canvas, he shut his eyes and tried to sculpt the image from fragmented descriptions and fleeting glances.

Another year had flown by without him noticing. This time, however, he'd moved out of the Lees' estate into a comfortable ground-floor apartment with his two spouses and it had been his first year being somewhat independent since his attempt (had it been twelve years already?), which he relished. He let the quiet scratching of the charcoal against the sheet guide him, not once opening his eyes while his hand flew across the canvas effortlessly.

---

He recalled what Dankyung had said of him when she had carefully touched his face, taking in his features through her hands. "Painfully average," she had snarked to him when he had asked if she found him handsome, but when she had once again traced his features with her fingers patiently, he gained a sudden clarity on how he was presented to her, a jolt he hadn't quite felt before.

Your chin is so sharp, it frames your face surprisingly nicely. Not terribly bushy brows, and your eyes are probably large - double-lids, I reckon. Not a particularly big nose...or mouth, for that matter.

There then came the part where Jooyoung came over to tug at his cheeks, curious at the thought experiment that had been taking place. She had been trying to form a smile, pushing his cheek up with her hands with the same bright stare he remembered falling for the first time they'd met.

It's not that sharp when I squish it like this! Besides, he always smirks, having that neutral look just isn't accurate. You have to smirk at us like you do when you watch us across the room! That way Dankyung can take in your shit-eating grin and know that's how you look at us.

He pulled away, threading his hands into Jooyoung's to stop her from manipulating his face as he once again leant into Dankyung's waiting arms. "Hey now, I'm not taking suggestions at the moment," he remembered scoffing to them then, "This face is priceless, and solely for you both only. Do you know how many employees from Hangjo's marketing department beg me to endorse the products we make on a regular basis? Drink it up. Nobody else gets to be this close to the goods, ok."

----

When he lifted his hand from the canvas, there was a moment's hesitation as he opened his eyes to take in what he had created.

Sure enough, an image of himself was reflected upon it - head slightly arched, eyes closed with a smile that seemed radiant and for once genuinely free. He startled, taking this in for a moment before carefully cleaning up the rest of the sketch almost reverently, as if worried that he would ruin the piece.

A moment or two passed, and then he finally leant back to admire what he'd created, incredulous for a moment before he allowed himself to bury his face into his hands and begin sobbing in relief at his own creation. He felt the warm embrace of his spouses envelope him almost immediately, leaning in at their touch while he curled up deeper with the charcoal to his chest, unable to stop himself from accepting the fact of reconciling himself any further.

[sirjuggles]

Worm Reading - Part 1, Insinuation 2.6

So I've heard the series Worm thrown around peripherally over the years but I've never sat down and read it. Lately some folks I follow on Tumblr have been talking about it more, and I do love me a good web serial (shoutout to Astielle and Velveteen Vs. and, uh... Tales of MU but we don't talk about that). With that in mind, I figure I'll dive in and share my experience reading Worm for the first time.

Up front, what I know about Worm before beginning: I know it's yet another take on the reality of a world where some people have superhuman powers. I know the initial main character has bug powers. I'm pretty sure that somewhere along the way there's a massive spike in power level, where we go from dealing with street fights to dealing with civilization-level threats. I think there's some investigation of how people get powers, and experiments with trying to give people powers (that, inevitably for the genre, probably go awry). I also think there might be some shenanigans with the focus of the story, like a primary viewpoint character dies or becomes someone else? I'm hazy on that part.

With that in mind, I began reading this morning. I'm currently up to Insinuation 2.6. I will admit it's a little bit of a struggle to not skim over the school bullying portions. I know this is a story written twelve years ago by an amateur author, but the initial descriptions of all the pretty popular girl bullies and the focus on what they wear and what their hair looks like is definitely the weakest part. Not that this isn't sadly a legitimate depiction of how awful high school can be for many people, but at least for me it's the least interesting thing to read about.

So far it seems that Taylor hasn't really fully thought through how reality on the streets might differ from the Good Superhero VS. Evil Supervillain narrative put out by an organization with a name like THE PROTECTORATE. We've gotten some interesting glimpses into the street-level struggle between gangs led by powered individuals, I'm a little fascinated by this idea of non-powered mooks as basically gang members who rally around a powered leader. I'm gonna slide right over the characterization of the gang led by Lung and chalk that one up 2011 being a different time.

I am SO INTRUIGED by the Undersiders. Specifically it has been established that they have a somewhat diverse mix of powers and have been able to take on or shake off any attempts at suppression from officially authorized teams.

Hellhound: Seems to be general muscle for the team. We have yet to actually speak to her, but I kinda like her? Seems like she looked after herself while homeless for many years, and I can't really begrudge her for being standoffish or abrasive.

Grue: "Darkness Generation" is such a vague power, but I suspect it could be very handy in battlefield control and breaking contact after a fight, which makes their crew substantially more slippery. Deeper implications to how this could be weaponized?

Regent: Vague hero name doesn't seem to indicate any particular power, I'm curious what his deal is.

Tattletale: I'm sorry, I've only known this character for five minutes and I already LOVE her. Her power seems to be information-related, something like she knows the answer to any question asked? If her power is anything like what I think it is, she is CRAZY powerful and is absolutely being underestimated by the narrative at the moment. Can't wait to find out what her deal is.

Only other character we've met so far has been Armsmaster. He seems... fine. Generic corporate superhero. Nifty iconic weapon, not clear what actual powers he might have. He seems nice enough, I was a little surprised that he didn't put more pressure on Taylor to get registered and go legit in their initial interaction. I did feel a brief pang of "oh god I'm old" when the clearly Responsible Adult-coded character is estimated to be about my age or younger.

I'm curious to meet this elusive "Boss" the Undersiders have mentioned, that seems to be a critical part to this story that I suspect will be a central part of which way this story goes. Onward from here!

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

“It’s a lot of pressure.” For sashnetra please?

Liv, hi! Thank you for the prompt, and if you don't mind, I'm setting this in the Wedding Planner AU, since it made me think about the next installment (Kerri's adoption). So here's a little sneak peek at it!

33. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It's a lot of pressure."

"It really is, but we really need to think about what's best for her and us."

"You're right, but it's still a hard decision."

"I know." Anetra reached across the empty dining room table with her palm up, as Sasha put her hand in her wife's, and gave a reassuring squeeze. "I think we'll make the right decision, together."

Sasha had no idea that she had any family left after living in LA for years and cutting off all communication and ties to anyone in Hawai'i. She had no idea that her younger brother moved to San Deigo after he got married and settled down to start a family. But after getting a phone call from Child Protective Services telling her that she has a niece that just got placed in foster care, Sasha knew that she had at least one family member left.

Sasha felt very apprehensive about meeting Kerri for the first time, nervous that it would bring up some unpleasant memories. But after some gentle urging from Anetra, Sasha agreed to meet with Kerri, the CPS worker, and Kerri's foster mother.

Kerri seemed uneasy and awkward, staying mostly quiet as the adults in the room talked. The twelve-year-old had short, choppy hair and wore second-hand clothes from the boy's section. Whenever Sasha tried to talk to Kerri directly, the preteen gave short and direct answers and avoided any eye contact.

After the meeting, Sasha learned more about Kerri from the CPS worker. Kerri has been in foster care for about six months after her biological parents gave up their parental rights to the state. Sasha asked if Kerri had any siblings and if they were also in foster care.

Sasha's heart broke when she was told that Kerri was the only one of her siblings to be placed into foster care. Sasha didn't ask many questions after that.

But Sasha really felt a connection to Kerri, despite her apprehensions at first. After a few more meetings and getting to know Kerri one on one, Sasha brought Anetra along to meet Kerri.

The couple met with Kerri and another chaperone at least twice a week over the past two months. Kerri became a part of their lives, and they both looked forward to seeing her.

But when the CPS worker had an hour-long meeting with just them and Kerri wasn't present, they were left with a lot of things to think about. The CPS worker asked if the two were considering seeking guardianship over Kerri since they had taken a serious role in Kerri's life.

"Do you think we'd be able to take care of an actual kid? We've just been married for not even a year yet, and we never talked about kids before." Sasha asked aloud, as the two moved their conversation to the living room.

"Well, she's twelve, so it's not like we would be taking in a toddler or anything." Anetra pointed out. "And we can easily make our guest bedroom into her room."

"But three people in a two-bedroom apartment? Wouldn't that get crowded?" Sasha asked.

"We can move somewhere else. You were saying not too long ago that you felt like we were outgrowing this place anyways."

Sasha pursed her lips, taking a moment to think. "Can we really do this? It's going to be a big change for her and us."

"it will be, but it's going to be a good change for her. Kerri loves you already, and if we take her in, she'll actually be able to be herself here." Anetra said, before looking at the decorative clock on the wall.

"It's getting late. Are you coming to bed? We can talk about this more in the morning, it's no rush." Anetra asked as she stood up from the plush couch.

Sasha shook her head and covered herself with the throw blanket "No, I think I'll stay up for a little bit longer."

Anetra nodded and leaned down to press her lips to her wife's forehead. "Okay, goodnight. Just don't stay up too late, please?"

"I'll try. Goodnight, Neech."

Anetra didn't look surprised when she found Sasha still awake the next morning, in the same place on the couch. The television was playing a morning news show as Sasha looked out the window, not paying attention to it.

"No sleep?" Anetra asked as she sat on the other end of the couch.

Sasha ignored her question and looked at her wife "I think we should do it. I think we should try to get guardianship over Kerri."

Anetra looked slightly surprised "Really?"

She nodded, "I don't want her to grow up resenting her blood family like I did. We're her family, and I really want her to be with us."

The younger woman smiled as she put a gentle hand on Sasha's bent knee "I'll go call the CPS worker, then."