#what the fuck ever I never matter to anyone

[lastoneout]

I keep thinking about all of the disabled activists and people before me who stranded themselves on the 4th floor of buildings for weeks and crawled up stairs and fought with airline staff and schools and doctors and refused to stop existing in the face of injustice and bigotry no matter how big and scary and hopeless it seemed. Every time I get angry and scared the protests that lead to the creation of the ADA pop up again and remind me that disabled people are so much fucking stronger than anyone has ever given us credit for, and I can't help but be proud of that. And I know not all disabled people feel like we should take pride in our disabilities and have flags or whatever, but I think not just living, but thriving, in spite of a world that wants us dead and gone, in the face of both illness and persecution, and how we've not only bought ourselves forward, but uplifted the disabled people around us, secured more equal futures for everyone who will come after, and truly changed the way so many abled people have seen us for the better is something to be damn fucking proud of.

We have always been here and we always will be, there will never be a world without disabled people because being disabled is not bad, it's a natural part of the human experience and yeah it sucks some times but even when it sucks we have fought to build beautiful, unique, happy lives with people, both like us and not, and that should be celebrated.

The first sign of human civilization is the healed femur. The body of the profoundly disabled person who would have needed help to even just eat being carefully laid to rest after decades of a full, happy life. The medicinal plants showing even before we were entirely human we were doing what we could to not just survive, but alleviate suffering while we're at it. Above everything, evolution selected not the baby who can walk and eat and be quiet, but the one that can ask for help.

Disabled people are not just angry cockroach motherfuckers who refuse to die, we are proof of humanity's HUMANITY. Proof that natural selection selected a species that takes care of each other. From healed femurs and medicinal plants to vaccines and IVs and insulin to now, we are driven to help one another, we are at our strongest when we don't leave our most vulnerable behind. And I am living proof of that. My mother is living proof of that. Every disabled and chronically and/or mentally ill person I know is living proof of that.

And I don't know about the rest of you, but will carry that shred of humanity's true nature inside me like it's my fucking soul. I am scared and angry and hurt, but I have a lifetime's experience being scared and angry, and I can shake off the kind of pain that would make Atlas crumble to dust like it's nothing but a stiff fucking breeze. Disabled people have always been here, turning fear and anger and pain into joy and beauty and connection, and I'm not going to let everyone who came before me down. I'm not going to give up. Not now, not ever.

It's okay if you're disabled and you've hit your limit, you're too scared and tired and hurt, I won't blame you. But I won't abandon you, either. I might not be able to right all of the wrongs in the world, but I'll be strong, I'll carry all of you with me, I will not give up.

As I've said before, society hates a cripple who won't die, so we must spite them and live anyway.

Please, live anyway. I know if anyone can, it's us.

[gamblersdoll]

Heyy queenn 😚😚 I was wondering if you can do katsuki bakugo that talked so much shi abt how he was gonna beat our coochies up but then ends up moaning just as much or louder then us😭. Much love😚💕

shit talker katsuki, vocal too. ;> and imagine katsuki with a slight southern accent. spit

“you wouldnt last three seconds with me, sweetheart. “ hes bold, very bold. his pride made his ego swell, knowing his attraction to you and everything inside, “ youd be begging for me to slow down.”

“you sound so confident,” you chuckle, scrolling on your phone to hear his rambling. sure, youve seen his print.. and it aint no joke. his junk was a good size.. not long, but thick as hell. the perfect combo, the breeder cock. “you never get put in your place, huh?”

“my place? nah,” he chortles, a hand reaching down and shaking his cock through his jeans.. he looked good in the blue jeans. thick thighs just threatened to bust them.. shit. “ not you, or anyone in that fact— has ever fucked me in a place.”

“we’ll def’ see, katsuki.” you mumble, chewing on your lip and side eyeing him. he was inchin’ closer and closer, knowing he was into you, heavily. “you act so high and mighty.”

“and you act like i wont fuck you dumb, baby.”

easier said than done,

once he was finally able to slip himself inside you— he was goo. your slick was more of lube than anything, you know, the kind that make you reeallyy slick.. enough for his cock to always slip out when you rode his dick. you were draining him, his face flushed, blush on his cheeks and ears, he needed to be reminded how tight a woman can be. “what’s the matter, kats? look like youve seen a ghost..” you smirk down, watching him crumble beneath your fingers.

and one thing about it, he was so much louder than you. his ‘oh fucks’ to his ‘awe, shits’ louder than when you moaned his name. his eyes focus hard on his cock disappearing inside of you, fist clenched and unclenched. “b— baaabbyy..” he whined, his eyes crossing when you grind your cervix against his cock.

hes wanted this for so long.. needed you then and there when he saw you sway your hips with sero and mina to whatever spanish song sero listened to. he didnt remember the name, only knowing when he finally danced with you, it looked possessive.. like he had already claimed you.

“baby, please,” he whimpered, squeezing your tits until he looked back up to you. “i beggin’ you..”

“mm? beggin’ fer what?”

“let me come inside.. please.” he scoffed afterwards, his face turning embarrassed and he whimpered as you slowed down for a moment. “no, no no.. please dont stop—“

“gotta make memories, you know?” you giggle sly, pulling your phone out to press record. you aim to have both of you in the photo, having the device witness your.. tango. “you said what, katsuki? you begging to nut in me?”

he growls, but feels your fingers squeeze his balls. “fuck— yes..” he whimpers in defeat, sulking against the couch and having his throat whine when you speed up. “please let me come in you.. fuck youre my bottom— h’ohhhh fuuuuck!” you fondle his balls, parting his lips next and letting a glob of spit into his mouth.

[sondheim-girly]

I know this won't reach anyone who voted for trump, because this is tumblr, but if you voted for trump FUCK YOU

do you understand what you've done for us? do you understand? do you want the children of this country to grow up in a world without rights? WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. WRONG. WITH. YOU.

I will never forgive you. None of us will EVER forgive you. You have blood on your hands. And no matter what you do that blood will never EVER wash away

[altschmerzes]

if the only time you bring up A Secret Third Thing is when someone has suggested generally celebrating or uplifting platonic/queerplatonic fictional relationships in spaces that ordinarily obsess about romantic ones to the exclusion of all else perhaps consider why you’re doing that and also stop.

[0alix0]

Rook's backgrounds make no sense or gatekeeping is good, actually

It's didn't sit well with me ever since bioware admitted that all 6 background for Rook can be played by any race you choose

Looking back at Origins it's clear why most of the backgrounds were race-specific. Not only it provided a better understanding of the separate cultures (you wouldn't really understand what dwarfs are about if you were able to play as a surface dwarf commoner) it also established the rules of the world (elves are opressed, you can't become a queen/king cuz the nobles will riot, humans colonize them and inforce their religion and rules on everyone, dwarfs are considered weird)

Now, looking at the veilguard, I can't help but ask:

How can a fully grown dalish with vallaslin be a crow? They buy slaves as a way to get more assassins, usually elves, children, so they could easier ruin their psyche. why the hell would a dalish stand for it?

How can a qunari be a Gray Warden? Wardens don't discriminate, sure, but this far, we haven't even heard of a qunari warden. Rook should be a legend, Rook should be questioned at actually being a warden by NPCs, OR sit in some Warden outpost and being studied by their mages, because no one actually knows how Blight and joining might work with Kossith body instead of running around with Varric.

Veiljumpers were organized by dalish, right? Then why in the world would a human be allowed to join? How and why did they change their minds to accept literally anyone, even if it's a potential threat/thief(Morrigan)/zealot/etc..?

How can a dwarf, someone who isn't even connected to the fade be a Veiljumper?

How can a dwarf be a part of the Mourn Watch? A Mortalitasi, an exclusively MAGE order? What can they even do?? Preform a non magical mummifications with herbs and salts like Egyptians did? Sweep the mausoleum? Be some sort of a funeral organizer/lawyer/genealogist? That could've been really interesting if only the game actually bothered to say anything about it. It did not

"Well it's up to your headcanons!" then why make the backgrounds in the first place??? They don't matter anyway!

I mean, obviously it was just a way to promote the game to older fans. Look, the backstories! The thing you've been craving for is back in game! Only they forgot what actually made them so great. The most important part. They mattered, they created a basis for my character. They gave them families, connections. They changed the way my character is perceived (elves in general) and what they can do plotwise (become a monarch/paragon).

I don't fucking care if 3-5 NPCs might have some additional dialogues for me, cuz they don't matter anyway. I don't even know these people, i never met them before, my character did, but I didn't. And now I don't care enough to know. like, i'm playing as a mourn watcher, but before going to Nevarra i barely knew anything about them, and what i know now is still rather surface level shit

Let alone the fact that all the backgrounds are practically the same. You pissed off some influencial people by doing good and was send away. Bravo.

........if this post gets one like I'm writing my own ideas for DA4 protagonist's backgrounds

[dekustowel]

[12: that time she met the parents]

synopsis - in light of a major controversy that causes his fan support to dwindle significantly, katsuki bakugou is forced to do anything possible to garner back the affection of his fans before the announcement of the year's hero rankings. katsuki has two options: either "date" japan's most-adored social media star, in hopes of her amazing reputation bringing up his, or kiss that #1 spot goodbye. it's a no-brainer what he chooses. and it shouldn't matter at all, right? it's a fake relationship. nothing more, nothing less.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist | previous | next

*there’s a written piece of this chapter*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes quickly darted up from your phone catching on to something that would leave anyone that bled red speechless.

now to make something perfectly clear - you never thought katsuki bakugou was ugly.

not in school, when you'd see him in the hall. bakugou was unapproachable in his own right - and believe it, your friends tested that theory often. there was an unspoken beauty about him, said in a whisper from lips that knew they would never meet his.

he was not ugly when you lived separate lives and only saw him on billboards and your television screen. there are enough people in japan with bakugou's face plastered across their shirts, their rooms, and their bodies, that you could never deny his beauty had only amplified over the years.

you could always appreciate that the boy wasn't ugly.

'not ugly' isn't how you would describe seeing him today, leaning against the nicest car you've ever seen, with a grimace that would make anyone smart enough turn in the other direction.

today, katsuki bakugou stands tall and striking, with blonde hair that catches the light just right, framing a face carved with sharp, almost ethereal features. his eyes, a vivid and unsettling shade of red, holding an intensity that made it hard to look away. he's definitely a little more than 'not ugly'.

when the fuck did you start noticing details about his fucking eyes?

you pushed down any semblance of a reaction to the masterpiece before you as you wearily approached him.

"you look good," was not supposed to be said out loud, but your body's doing all kinds of weird gymnastics today, so you accept that you've said it and search his crimson eyes for a response.

katsuki doesn't dignify what you just said with a response.

instead, his eyes rake over you in what appears to be fucking disgust, as he opens the car door, feigning any illusion of a gentlemanly bone in his body.

you're barely able to get all your limbs safely in the car before bakugou slams it closed and walks around to the driver's side.

it's going to be such a long afternoon.

the car ride is mostly silent other than the low hum of an unrecognizable artist playing over the radio.

you take a moment to look at the interior of katsuki's car. black, like his fucking soul, and absolutely spotless. leather seats, probably so it's easier to clean the blood of his sacrifices off of. manual, because bakugou obviously wants you to know he's better than you in every way.

he probably never even stalls.

you laugh to yourself before your eyes zero in on his radio.

he listens to music, like the rest of us. this shouldn't surprise you, he's human. but it's an insight into the katsuki bakugou novelty. and your next move lines up with all the other impulsive ones so far for the afternoon.

you reach over and turn up his radio to just about max volume.

I thought that I was dreaming When you said you loved me

"you like Frank Ocean?!" you just about yelled, causing katuski to jerk the wheel a little bit.

"are you fucking insane, don't do that!" he scolds, turning down the radio to a more manageable volume, "and what's it to you?"

"i love Frank Ocean."

"not very uncommon, most people do."

"i guess, i just didn't realize you fell into the category of most people," you look out of the window as the sunset cascades down one of musutafu's nicer neighborhoods, "it's refreshing. you're human."

"get out of the car, y/n." you hadn't noticed the car come to a halt in front of a particularly nice house. it looked like the kind of house that loved poured out of. the sort of house that contains and produces well-rounded, delightful members of society. how katsuki bakugou lived here his whole life, you don't fucking know.

"so, this is where you grew up," you mutter, folding your arms over your chest, and leaning against the car door.

"what's it to you?" he snaps, his voice cutting through the air just as the driver-side door slams shut with a hard thud, matching the edge in his tone.

"nothing," you say, letting a smirk slip as you stand upright. "i just didn't know you were a little rich kid," you add, your tone light but taunting, a crooked smile playing at your lips as you glance his way

"have you realized im god's favorite yet?"

you laugh a little at his comment before mindlessly slipping your hand into his as he walks by. bakugou stops, turning to you with—well, it's hard to place his reaction—you've never seen it before. it’s agitation.. but softer?

it's convoluted, like everything involving katsuki bakugou.

"what’re you doing?" he demands, his gaze fixed on your interlocked fingers. despite the edge in his tone, he makes no move to pull away, his hand staying right where it is.

'holding your hand?"

"why?"

"for your parents, so we look like a couple?" you ask, voice midly irritated as you start to pull your hand away, "do you want me to let go?" But just as you begin to slip free, his grip tightens, holding you in place. suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the warmth and solid feel of bakugou’s hand, more comfortable than you'd expected.

his grip is firm as he drags you toward the front door, his strides confident and unfaltering. meanwhile, your stomach twists with nerves, each step making you more aware of how close you’re getting to his parents’ house. you try to keep up with his pace, but your pulse races, and you find yourself squeezing his hand a little tighter—hoping he doesn’t notice just how nervous you really are.

"callm down," he says simply.

you swallow, the anxiety tightening in your chest. "what if they don’t like me, katsuki?"

he scoffs. "doesn’t matter, ‘cause we’re not actually dating, idiot."

unhelpful.

you don’t even look at him, too consumed by the dread pooling in your stomach.

this was a bad idea. im going to kill Mina. this was a terrible idea.

"hey," he says more gently, an arm slipping around your shoulders. a warmth spreads through you, chasing away the knots of fear. "relax," he murmurs.

you glance up, eyes wide. "everyone likes you. just calm down, all right?"

you're barely even able to process the interaction you were just a part of before the front door comes swinging open, presenting the clear explanation for bakugou's good looks and charm.

she really is a milf. fuck.

"jesus, katsuki! it's fucking cold, you're gonna just stand there gawking at her and let her catch a fever?" the woman, who you can easily assume is bakugou's mother, beckons for you both to come inside.

"the pictures don’t do you justice; you’re absolutely breathtaking," she beams, pulling you into a warm embrace. as you bask in her warmth, her eyes sparkle with mischief. "but why are you with my son? you could do so much better, sweetheart."

"thanks, mom." bakugou deadpans.

"shut it, twerp. im talking to your girlfriend," his mom snaps back, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"matsukawa, come meet your future daughter-in-law!" she calls out, her voice echoing through the room. A deep blush creeps up your neck at the thought, and you nervously scan the space, trying to steady your breathing.

your gaze accidentally locks with bakugou’s, and in that fleeting moment, something in his expression takes you completely off guard. there's an intensity there, a mix of vulnerability and warmth that absolutely floors you.

but as quickly as it happens, he turns away, leaving the moment hanging in the air.

completely unacknowledged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

FUN FACT: Mitski and Matsukawa already googled everything they'd need to know about y/n before Mitski messaged Bakugou. they already liked her! they really just wanted to see their bratty son ;)

thank you for reading!

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[webanglikethat]

to every single queer person out there—trans, gay, bi, pan, ace, nonbinary, however you identify—let me just say this: I am so, so fucking sorry. SO, SO, SO FUCKING SORRY. I am furious. I’m pissed off beyond words. english seems like a forgotten skill as I'm typing this. I am so sorry.

we never deserved this. we never fucking deserved this.

I am sorry that you’ve been betrayed like this, that we’ve all been betrayed like this. I’m sorry that SO MANY of our damn votes weren’t counted, like we don’t even matter. like we’re just numbers on a page that they can toss out without a thought. like we can just be erased, as if we do not exist, like we’re puzzle pieces that don’t fit into their perfect picture, so they just throw us out, discarded, like we were never there in the first place. I’m sorry she just conceded, just gave up. left us hanging. just handed us over like we’re some afterthought, like we’re collateral damage in this disgusting twisted fucking game. as if our lives, our rights, everything we fought for, meant nothing. she just rolled over and let us get steamrolled, like we’re just noise, just numbers on a page, just nothing worth fighting for. do they even care that real people, people who trusted her, who put their hopes in her, are being crushed by this? and not only in the US. we ALL believed in her. and ... she ... just ... she was gone. just like that. and we’re the ones who have to pay the price. we’re the ones left with our futures on the line, wondering what rights we’ll have tomorrow, if we’ll even be safe tomorrow. and she just… gave it all up. handed us over to people who are hell-bent on erasing us, who’ve been clear from day one about what they think of us, what they want to take away. how do we even make sense of that? how do we believe in ANYONE? how can you abandon us in the lion's den and yet demand compassion and trust? to trust in the very hands that have left us to bleed, to burn, to fight alone?

we deserve better. we deserved someone who would stand with us when it mattered, who wouldn’t just throw in the towel and walk away when things got tough. we’re not just collateral. we’re not disposable. we’re human beings with lives, with love, with the right to exist without fear. we aren't statistics, diagrams, names forgotten on a wall. we are queer, and we are real. and she ... just left us to face down a nightmare she knows damn well is coming. so how dare they tell us to “keep faith” when they’ve shown us that our lives were never worth the fight to them. we needed someone who would dig in and say, “no, you can’t have them. not now, not ever.” and instead? we were left out in the cold to fend for ourselves. like always. like fucking always. and this isn’t just some political setback for us. this is our lives, our right to exist. we’ve fought and bled and stood through hell just to claim an inch of ground to live openly, to love who we love, and to be who we are. we deserved so much more than empty promises. and we won’t forget this.

right now, it feels like every warning, every fear we’ve had has come to life in the worst way. and let’s be real—what’s next is terrifying. I will not sugarcoat it. rights are going to be stripped away, our existence denied, our safety threatened. trump hasn’t hidden it; he’s promised it. this was supposed to be our home too. but they’re pushing us out, forcing us to hide. so please, if you need to, go back into the closet. change states if that’s what it takes. hell, think about leaving the country if you can, because it’s becoming clear that staying might mean risking everything. you do not owe anyone anything, just think of yourself first. you are your own priority.

and god .. Love. Love—something so pure, something so simple—has been twisted into a reason for others to hate us, to fear us, to hurt us. we were never supposed to be the ones people saw as a “threat.” that label should belong to hatred, to racism, to homophobia, to everything that has poisoned this world. but instead, somehow we are the ones they call dangerous. we are the ones they want to erase. and it’s maddening. what kind of world are we living in, where the fight to just exist is an endless battle? was it not love that led Eve to take that fateful bite, trusting in the bond she shared with Adam? and if love is the foundation upon which humanity was built, how can we be faulted for following its lead? of all the things we could hate, and we chose love.

if this moment feels like it’s too much, if it feels like everything you’ve fought for, every piece of yourself you’ve worked to own, every right, every dream, every bit of safety is collapsing around you -- I get it. I feel it in my bones. it feels like drowning, like being swallowed whole by a storm that never ends. the shore seems so far away. but listen to me: don’t you fucking dare let them break you. don’t let them get that satisfaction. don’t give them that power. we are not here to let monsters erase us. we’re here to outlast every single one of them. we’re here to survive and thrive. we are queer, we are real, we exist, we will continue to exist.

their power, their hatred, their cruelty—it won’t last forever. I know it's difficult to see the light at the end of this tunnel. but they are the ones who don’t belong in a world built on compassion, on love, on freedom. You are the real thing. You are here. You deserve to be here, and you deserve to feel safe, loved, and free.

if you’re feeling like there’s no point anymore, if this all feels like it’s too damn much to take, please just hang on. this fight is brutal, and sometimes it feels like it never ends. but I’m begging you—don’t give up. don’t let them have that final victory. don’t let them silence your voice, your light, your life. scream, cry, punch walls, call someone, reach out, hold on to whatever will keep you here another day, another hour. do whatever you have to do to survive this moment. because you’re needed. we need you. the world needs you.

you might not see it now, but you are a part of something big, something powerful, something they wish they could destroy but never will. you’re part of a legacy of resilience, of love, of defiance against hatred. every queer person, every person who has ever had to stand up against a world that told them they shouldn’t exist, that they should be crucified, erased, beaten up, has carried that legacy forward, passed it down so we could be here. so you could be here. and they did not survive all they did, did not fight, did not sacrifice so much just for us to lose hope. we’re still here because others fought and held on. now, it’s our turn. we owe it to them, to ourselves, to hold on with everything we have, to fight with everything in us.

and one day, I promise you, I truly pinkie promise you, that you’re going to wake up in a world that has moved beyond these hateful voices. one day, you will wake up in a world that sees you, that values you, where you don’t have to fight just to exist. you deserve to live in it, to walk in the sunlight without fear, without shame. they don’t get to take that from you. they don’t get to erase you. they don’t get to win.

this moment is hard. it’s beyond hard. but you, every single one of you, are worth it. you are not alone in this fight. you are surrounded by countless others who feel this too, who know this pain, who are holding on right alongside you.

so please, hold on. you belong, and nothing they do can change that. they cannot snuff out your light. they cannot erase your legacy. they cannot undo the love you were born to spread.

stay. fight like hell. be louder, be prouder, be everything they tell you not to be. because you are worth every ounce of this battle. and we will see the day they’re gone. we will make it through.

we too shall rise from the ashes.

to my queer family, my phoenix.

[aropride]

ok story before bed time. everyone gather around

you are me at age 13. you are an 8th grader who just realized he likes girls and recently had a gender crisis in the home depot lighting aisle. it is november of 2016, and trump has run for president for the first time. you are watching the map change over your dad's shoulder. you aren't really sure how it works yet but you are seeing a lot of red on there and you are very frightened. you just found out you have free will, like, last year, and you are only beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation- the situation being the united states of america in general- and it already is looking very bad.

when you wake up in the morning your dad tells you trump has won. he's too happy about it. you're skipping breakfast to make the bus in time. the sun's barely risen, btw, but you are 13 so you have little to no autonomy or rights, so you are in the fluorescent-light torment-nexus they call a "middle school" by 7:45am on the dot.

you see your friend as you're walking to your homeroom. he's a fellow gay emo middle schooler, he sucks, and he really likes to guilt-trip you into skipping class to hang out with him by telling you he's going to kill himself if you don't. you have other qualms with him, but this illustrates enough. he says hi, you say hi, there is a sort of thick dread in the air despite barely anyone in the building being old enough to vote and most everyone completely baffled by the concept of the "electoral college."

he asks how you're feeling. you say bad, and he agrees.

he looks you in the eyes and puts both his hands on your shoulders. he says, "don't worry about gay marriage. they can't get rid of it."

you don't say anything; he doesn't give you a chance to.

"i ran into the senate at subway yesterday and i asked them. and they said trump can't repeal gay marriage."

you do not know much about the government. you are not quite sure what a senator is. however, you know there are one hundred of them. you also know that the only subway in your little corner of maine is very small- there's, like, three booths to sit in. only a few people can even get in line to order at a time. you were born recently but you are able to draw some conclusions here:

1) there is absolutely no way that subway could fit 100 people inside of it at all,

2) there is no reason that the entire senate would be in a little town in maine the night after the election,

and 3) this guy is making shit up again, more than anyone's ever made shit up in their life.

you say, "okay. that's good." you are aware that gay marriage is not the only thing to be worried about, here. you are aware that this guy lies recreationally and it is not worth arguing the matter.

"isn't that great?" he asks. it is not great.

you go to homeroom and you do not stand for the pledge of allegiance (you never stand for it again). you go to pre-algebra. you listen to my chemical romance instead of paying attention. you go to english class, you go to study hall, you go to lunch. you go to social studies and your teacher lets you and your other gay friend (who doesn't suck and in fact you have crush-adjacent feelings for them) sit out in the hall to talk about the election, because you asked nicely. they do not try to tell you that they ran into the entire senate at subway.

you think about this interaction several times a month through the next two election seasons. you are a 21 year old man and you are still thinking about this. you are still imagining ways the entire senate could cram themselves into this tiny subway. you regularly share this story with new friends because you just cannot stop fucking thinking about it. he ran into the entire senate at a tiny little subway in maine at 7 in the morning. and they said gay rights were safe forever.

[sinnaminsuga]

𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 - mob boss!chan x reader

wc: 3,519

cw: some threats of violence, a little angsty but happy ending, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you loved him, more than anything. but being a secret was never what you wanted. the gilded cage you seemed to exist exclusively in was suffocating you, so you decided it was time to get out. but chan wont let you go that easily.

a/n: i was driving and clearly i was not paying attention because thats when this idea was born. as usual this was beta'd by bestie @httpdwaekki and she sourced the pretty pictures for me too. enjoy!

sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), breeding kink if you squint, general roughness, threats of violence (not toward the reader), chan has a gun. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

the creak of the church doors flying open should have startled you like it did everyone else, but you knew better. it was only a matter of time before he came for you. he didn't like his things to go missing. truthfully, you were shocked it even took this long. 

the click of his (no doubt expensive) shoes on the shiny wooden floor of the church hung in the air like the ticking of a clock, counting down to either your demise or your bliss you weren't sure which one. after a long pause you turned your head just enough to face him. 

“can we help you?” you asked, more nonchalant than anyone else would have been in a situation like this. the muffled gasps and muttering from the crowd in front of you almost made you laugh but you held it in. 

the charged energy in the room was due to the fact that the man interrupting your wedding was none other than the most fearsome businessman and gangster this city had ever seen. but to you? he was your asshole ex boyfriend. 

“oh can you help me? that's what you're going to say? isn't this a little much, yeobo?” he replied, voice dripping with condescension and his hand over his heart in mock surprise. 

“a little much? god you're so out of touch it's actually insane christopher. news flash, you're not the groom, you're not even supposed to be here!” you seethed, fully turning to face him. your groom (hand selected by your parents) stood next to you shaking like a leaf. you could feel the nervous sweat from his hand slicking the surface of your palm and it made your skin crawl so you dropped his hold as you stared fiercely down the aisle. 

chan's face split into the wide grin you’d once been accustomed to seeing. “are you done now? you've gotten your attention and you've pissed me off, the job is done. let's go.” he said, walking further down the aisle toward you. 

“jesus christ, you really are insane! i should have listened when people told me you were a full on fucking basket case but no. i was stupid enough to fall in love with you. fat lot of good that did for me!” you shouted at his approaching form. 

you could feel your skin heating up and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears you were so mad. who the hell did he think he was, intruding on your life like this?! it's his fault you were in this situation anyway!

***

you had been with chan for 3 years, and in that time he made it a point to keep your relationship a secret. it hurt seeing his face splashed on newspapers and tabloids all over the city speculating on who he might be dating or who he’d been seen with recently. it hurt even more when he recapped nights where he was out to dinner with his men or allies and their wives. you couldn't help but feel like it was because you weren't enough. you felt like you weren't pretty enough, weren't tough enough, weren't worthy to be seen outside his penthouse apartment. and a girl can only take so much of that for so long. 

so a few months ago on a particularly lonely night of chan being out doing god knows what with lord knows who, you packed only your sentimental personal belongings (nothing he purchased for you, which was a hell of a lot of your things), wrote a note saying nothing more than “no one took me, not that you'd care even if they did. i’ll be a bird in a gilded cage no longer. goodbye.” and walked out his door for the last time. 

the fancy things he could provide for you behind closed doors weren't enough to soothe the searing pain in your soul of feeling like the man you loved was ashamed of you. three years together and not even a hint at things changing any time soon was enough to make you return home to your parents and agree to the arranged marriage they had been working on as they had no knowledge of the relationship you were already in. and who knows, maybe you could learn to love your soon-to-be husband Seo-jun.

***

you grabbed the skirt of your simple wedding dress and stomped down the few stairs of the platform, heading toward chan. when you finally stood in front of him you could see the darkness under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping. his hair was gorgeous as usual but a little longer than he was used to wearing it. and his knuckles were raw and bruised. you almost felt bad for him but then, you remembered he made the bed he was lying in so why should you care about how uncomfortable it might be?

“why are you so upset with me yeobo? hmm? what did i do that was so bad you had to leave me in the middle of the night? i took care of you didn't i? anything you asked for, i gave it to you.” chan asked, grabbing your hand. something dark flashed in his eyes and his upper lip curled when his fingers felt Seo-jun's ring on your finger. “what made you hate me so much that you ran off to be with this fucking nobody?”

“you just don't get it. and you never did. that's part of the problem chris. you don't see me. you don't know me. no one did.” you murmured, taking your hand back and smoothing the fabric of your dress, eyes cast down. “with Seo-jun we can walk down the street holding hands and he doesn't think twice about it. we can have dinner in a restaurant, one that has other people in it. not one that's been emptied out and all the blinds closed and the staff paid to keep their mouths shut.” you inhaled a shaky breath before continuing. “i couldn't do that with you. and the worst part is, i don't think you even wanted to. you were happy to exclude me from things. happy to hide me. but i don't want that. i never did. and if you had no intentions of marrying me, it was my responsibility to myself to find someone who would.” you dabbed your fingers under your eyes and sniffled before straightening your back and meeting his eyes. you weren't prepared to see the agony in his face. 

“i- i don't...i didn't know...i didn't know that is how you saw it all, how you saw me. i'm so sorry sweetheart. i wish you had talked to me.” chan breathed. he reached out his right hand and set it on your shoulder, rubbing soothing little circles with his thumb. after a moment he slid it up to cradle the back of your neck and tug you closer to him. 

“i should have explained. i should have been more perceptive. i never wanted you to feel this way, i swear i didnt.” chan’s voice shook as he spoke to you. 

“well it's too late now. please just go. please.” you whispered, trying to back away from him. you couldn't talk about this anymore. but in your attempt to move away from him, his grip on you tightened. he pulled you toward him forcefully enough that you were now chest to chest. 

“you think that i will ever let you go again? i stayed away when you left, i thought maybe you needed time to be angry at me for whatever it was and then you'd come back when you were ready. but then i saw your face in the newspaper, the wedding announcement section no less. and i laughed. i laughed because surely that couldn't be true.” a bitter laugh rattled out of chan's mouth, flames of wild jealousy flickering in his eyes. 

“as long as there is air in my lungs and my heart is beating in my chest, you will never belong to another man. ever. do you understand me?” he growled. 

“i told you in my note and i'll tell you again now to your face, i wont be in a cage anymore. i cant do that to myself chris. i won’t. besides, you never would have married me. you just want to possess me, but you don't want anyone to know that you do.” you said softly, tears finally slipping down your cheeks unrestrained. 

“why do you keep saying that? why do you think i'm ashamed of you?” he pleaded, his brows drawing together in confusion.  

“what else am i left to think when you keep me hidden away in your penthouse? i'm not invited to dinners. i'm not invited to parties. no one you know, knows i exist! that's why every person in this room is so shocked to see you here! no one had any idea we were together, because that's what you wanted. i was a toy for you and now that someone else has me you're upset. don't you understand how painful that is for me?!” you wailed, not wanting to keep talking about it. you pleaded with your eyes for him to stop this torture but he was having none of it. 

“are you insane? you think i wanted to keep us a secret? i wanted to tip toe around with you? no! but i had to! i know you think you know what i do but you have no idea the dangers that come with it. you are my most prized possession and the very knowledge of that is ammunition for some people in my world.” chan cried. “i would have loved nothing more than to scream it from the rooftops how much i fucking love you but i knew that would put you in danger and if anything ever happened to you i would have burned the world to ash. but the idea of your safety is out the window now, you forced my hand with this wedding bullshit and now it's all out in the open. everybody fucking knows now!” he bellowed. 

realization washed over you like a bucket of ice water. he was right. you never considered that you might be in harms way if his enemies knew of your existence. 

“i couldn't fucking marry you because then our marriage would be public record. anyone digging into me would find you that way. i wasn't willing to lay your life on the fucking line like that. is a wedding what you want? you wanna marry me?” chan asked, a mischievous air suddenly surrounding him. your subconscious overrode any sort of common sense and forced you to nod yes like some kind of sick twisted muscle memory. 

the next thing you knew he was pulling you back down the aisle toward the small raised platform, the audience whispering behind you. as he approached your groom you held your breath, worried about what he would say. 

“seo-jun is it?” he asked and seo-jun nodded. the fear was coming off of him in waves, why your parents paired you with this man you would never understand. you were far too argumentative to be with a weak man. “okay, so seo-jun what's going to happen now is i'm going to marry your fiance okay? get out of my way please, i'll only ask the one time so remember that.” chan said, his voice sickly sweet with a hint of ominous threat. seo-jun just nodded and ran off to cower behind his parents in the first row of seats. chan turned to face the officiant before speaking again. “alright let's start.”

the officiant gulped before he spoke with a shaky voice, “sir i can't marry you two. you don't even have a marriage license with the correct names on it.” this was obviously the incorrect response because chan reached into his coat and pulled out his gun, pressing it to the underside of the officiant's jaw. the rabid look in his eyes was one you were familiar with, he was incredibly worked up now. 

“i don't recall asking for your sage advice, did anyone hear me ask for his advice?” he addressed the audience with his question. the crowd murmured a chorus of no’s and chan turned back to the man at gunpoint. “open your stupid fucking book and marry us or i'll blow your fucking brains out, got it? okay, good.” the officiant nodded frantically as chan pulled the gun away, tucking it back into the holster you knew he wore on his side. 

you were very much in shock, and oddly enough very much turned on by his public display of aggression. you were finally getting what you always dreamed of with chan but you weren't totally happy. you didn't get to plan the wedding of your dreams with him, and this small event just didnt feel right. 

“chris we can't do this. not like this. i want to plan something real, something with you. can we do that? please?” you asked, tugging on his hands. 

“oh. of course we can do that sweetheart. but can we do this too? just like a practice? we’re already here and you look so pretty.” he said with his lopsided grin you could never say no to. so you giggled and nodded, and proceeded with the ceremony. 

after the exchanging of vows, a cutting look at seo-jun from chan about the wedding band he’d chosen for you, and some muttering from chan about ‘none of this is good enough' the officiant pronounced you man and wife. the crowd reaction was mild as they were all still so confused and terrified, but you didn't care. you were floating. and soon as he heard the words “you may now kiss your bride” chan tugged you to him and planted his lips on yours. he swept his tongue into your mouth and you whined into the kiss. god you'd missed this, no one kissed you like chan did. he broke away for a moment just to stare at you. 

“everybody get the fuck out.” every person in the church fled at chan's command, some squealing as they left. the two men he arrived with left as well, closing the doors behind them. you looked around confused, not sure why he would do that as you hadn't gotten your chance to walk down the aisle hand in hand. “channie what are you doing?” you asked. 

a wicked smile appeared on his face as he replied “my wife and i need to consummate this marriage, i didn't want them here for that.” heat settled low in your belly at his words and you felt your face flush. surely he couldn't be serious! but evidently he was as he pulled you further across the platform to the altar. 

he lifted you and set you down on top of the altar and pushed your legs apart to slot himself in between, yanking your dress up your legs to pool around your hips. chan planted open mouthed kisses across your exposed collarbone, one hand kneading your breast, the other reaching between you to grind against your clit. you threw your head back at the sudden pleasure. 

“you let him in here? you let seo-jun touch you like i do?” he grunted against your mouth. 

“nuh-uh. told him i wanted to wait. wasn't ready to give myself to another man.” you said, choking down a moan. 

“good. he seems nice, i really didn't want to have to kill him.” chan laughed out into your neck. you pawed at his chest in an attempt to open his shirt but the buttons proved to be too difficult for your lust addled brain so you tore it open instead. and what you saw made you stop short. 

right over his heart swooped dark black strokes of ink in your handwriting, the tattoo reading “i’ll be a bird in a gilded cage no longer.” it took your breath away and tears welled in your eyes. the weight of everything that had transpired hung heavy in the air between you and chan knew that so instead of speaking right away he leaned in, cupped your face in both hands, and kissed you with the most passion he could. so many words unspoken poured out of your mouths and into that kiss.

“here's what's going to happen now sweetheart. i'm gonna flip you around, bend you over, and fuck you until you see stars okay? it's been too long.” he explained as he maneuvered your body to the position he was describing. his big hand pressed between your shoulder blades and you submitted to him like you always did, leaning forward until your cheek was pressed to the marble of the altar. 

the jingling of his belt behind you made you clench around nothing, the ache of being empty taking over. chan bunched your skirt up once again before savagely tearing your panties from your body. two of his big fingers slid through your wetness before sinking into you, punching a moan from your chest. 

“gonna make it hurt baby, stretch you out jus’ the way you like okay? daddy’s gonna take such good care of you. always remember i love you okay sweetheart? because im going to fuck you like i really really don't.” he whispered into your ear, planting a kiss on the side of your head. then he was lining up with your entrance and sliding all the way in without stopping. 

and he was right, the stretch hurt but really it always did. he was just so big, but you liked the burn. you liked still feeling him the next day. you could feel your eyelids drooping and your body relaxing as he started to move. 

“fucking hell sweetheart. a few months away from me and i have to retrain this pussy to take me. so fucking tight.” chan ground out as his powerful hips slammed him in and out of you over and over again. your cunt was drooling all over his cock, almost as much as your mouth was all over the altar. 

“still can't believe you ran from me. how about i put a baby in you, then you can't go anywhere. there's not a single place on this earth where i won't fucking find you, you got that?” he spat, lacing his hand into your hair and yanking your head up. all you could get out was a measly “uh-huh” but it seemed to be enough because he growled and started pistoning his thick length into you at a new angle, slamming the head into your g-spot. 

chan reached down and wrapped a big hand around the back of your left thigh, lifting your leg and laying it flat on the altar, opening you up more for him. he slid his fingertips down between your legs and rubbed at your clit. if you weren't already sweating and drooling, surely that would have been the thing to do it. 

“slutty little pussy missed me huh? she was all lonely and empty without daddy to take care of her. c’mon baby, keep squeezing me, yeah just like that pretty girl. so perfect.” he groaned as he did his best to bruise you from the inside. 

at this point you were as boneless as you'd ever been, you truly did miss getting dicked down like this. chan had always been the best fuck of your life and you hadn't realized how much you missed it until now. “please make me cum daddy. need it so bad.” you mumbled incoherently, eyes glazed over. 

chan laughed, a bitter sound tumbling from his lips. “those little fingers of yours couldn't even come close to treating you like my dick huh? bet you were riding that dildo i got you, wishing it was me.” he hissed out between his clenched teeth. all you could do was moan and nod because he was right. 

“go on then. cum for me pretty baby. do it for me, need to feel it. then i'll fill you up just like you like.” he said, throwing his head back as he thrust into you with the harshest force you'd ever experienced. a few more direct hits to your g-spot and it was over, you were screaming and spasming around him, trapping him inside you for a moment. 

“jesus fucking christ- oh god fuck that feels so good. keep squeezing me, yessss just like that baby yeah. fuck you're so beautiful like this. ah- ah- fuck fuck fuck 'm gonna cum. gonna cum in this perfect little cunt baby. FUCK!” chan gasped out, hips stilling as he spilled inside of you, warming you from the inside out. he collapsed over your back and breathed hard against your spine. 

after gathering his breath and his thoughts he leaned forward, licking up a rivulet of sweat rolling down the side of your neck before whispering into your ear “cmon mama, lets get you home. i have a lot of apologizing to do.”

THE END

[azrielgreen]

I'm so fucking sorry and horrified about the state of things in the world IN GENERAL and now sharply in the US. Saying sorry feels so redundant but it's genuine and real, and reflective of my absolute grief at the backwards swing that this represents. It's horrifying to see clearly how many people care so little for women, people of colour, trans/queers, immigrants and the general wellbeing of the world entire. If I can do anything for anyone, I want to do that, so please do come and chat if you'd like to. I sadly cannot make a safe space where we all could live but believe me if I could I WOULD; I'd buy some fucking land and houses and make a little village somewhere safe.

I believe that what we're seeing is misogyny, racism and homophobia made fully manifest by people who have abandoned empathy, intelligence and decency to become a deeply uninformed electorate whose fear has been catered to and hand-fed by unregulated "news stations" where selective fact is accepted as normal and the media dominates. It's a terrifying sight to see the numbers, even though I have no doubt many of them are rigged. I keep thinking about what I can say to offer comfort, to raise hope and reaffirm, as so many are, that things will get better, but it falls so flat whenever I think about my trans/queer/POC/female/immigrant/anyone with a soul friends and how they must feel this morning waking up.

So I think what I can say, and I will, is that more than ever now, stories matter. Queer stories, ugly stories, love stories, angry stories, stories about failure and loss and violation and darkness... they matter more than ever before and the telling of them has never been more crucial because the first thing a dictatorship seeks to do is control the narrative in all ways. So please don't stop writing, don't stop reading, chase the idea, stay true to yourself and surround yourself with whatever brings a little fucking joy, catharsis and safe exploration of the things you need to explore.

Find your tribe, and tell your story.

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 7 | Underground Secrets

summary: your boss has set up a dangerous mission for you—to take down the intel of the notorious rival gang, The Vipers. Your boyfriend, a drug dealer of a rival organization, Chris is advising you not to go through with the plan because of how dangerous it is for someone like you, will you listen to your boyfriend or value your reputation over the risk of life and go through with the plan?

warnings: ANGST, gang membership, drug dealing, strong language, mentions of committing murder, arguing, a dangerous mission, the risk of life or death, illegal possession of firearm, illegal underground gangs, viewers advisory is supervised! Proceed to read with caution

authors note: and the one week mark finally arrived! Tysm for all of the love and support I’ve received during this whole week and I’m proud to announce that week one has been done, there’s still a lot of steps to take before reaching the end but we’ll get through it! Luv y’all so much & hope y’all enjoy this one

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

The city's dim lights flickered like a heart in distress, throwing long shadows that danced over the crumbling warehouse walls. I slumped against a rusted pillar, arms crossed, determination etched on my face. Chris, the infamous drug dealer from the rival gang, stood before me. His messy hair showed the exact replica of the tension in the air. Our eyes met, his glare sharp, frustration carving lines into his hardened features.

“Are you fucking insane?” Chris exclaimed, running his fingers through his messy locks in pure frustration with my stubbornness. “You’re seriously thinking about going through with this? Killing that intel guy for the Vipers? That’s a one-way ticket to getting yourself killed!” I straightened my posture, breaking the heavy silence between us like hammer on glass. “This is my job, Chris. I’m backed into a corner. My boss demands results, and if I fail, I’ll be the one buried in a ditch.”

“Do you really think I want to see you six feet underground for some bullshit mission?” He closed the gap between our bodies, his voice filled with urgency. “Listen, I’ve seen how these Vipers play. You’re walking into a total trap. They’ll have their eyes on you, and the moment you walk in, you’ll be history.” I stood my ground, not letting his shooting fire walk all over my resolve. “What did you just say? It’s just a job, I’m good at what I do. I can handle myself for once.”

"‘Handle yourself?’ Chris scoffed, a bitter laugh rumbling in his throat before escaping past his lips. “This ain’t some amateur shit, this is the Vipers we’re talking about! They don’t play nice, and this intel guy, he’s not your average rat. He’s got layers of protection, and I promise you, they’ll be ready to take you down.” His words hit hard, a mix of care and frustration mixed together. But I couldn’t show any signs of vulnerability. ‘I get it, but you can’t decide for me. I’m no damsel in distress, Chris. I can fight my own battles.’"

“Fighting and getting yourself killed are two different things,” he retorted, fists clenched together and almost threatening to do unspeakable acts. “And what do you think will happen if you go in there and fail? You think they’ll just let you go? No! They’ll take you out, and I won’t sit around and wait for news that you’re dead.” “You’re trying so hard to act like you give a shit about me,” I shot back, my anger rising to higher levels. “When have you ever given a shit about anyone but yourself? This is my life! If anyone’s making the final choice, it’s going to be me.”

“Damn it, you’re right,” he murmured, his voice barely a breath. “I can’t afford to care about everyone. But you…” He rubbed his face, laying the vulnerability I never saw coming. “You matter. I don’t want another goddamn funeral to attend because of this war.” For a minute, the walls between us felt like broken glass, and I noticed a spark of connection. But that spark couldn't wipe the weight of the mission on my back. I stepped back, shaking my head. “This deep in, I can’t back down. It shows weakness, you know how they treat that in this game.”

Chris's blue eyes blazed with intensity. “And if you have to sacrifice your life to prove a point, then what does that make you? Some fucking plaything for a bloodsucking boss? You deserve better than this!” A sharp stab pierced through my heart, a mix of rage and something deeper like fear. Fear for my life. Fear for this weird connection that felt like a chain. “This isn’t up for discussion, Chris. I’ve got a job to do here.”

His tone softened, becoming almost desperate. “I’m not asking you to quit. All I’m asking is for you to think. We can come up with a better plan. We can…” he paused, then added, “we can work together.” I become blindsided by his heartfelt sentence but I couldn’t let him get anywhere near danger this high of a lever, even though he is a strong ally to have on your side, I can’t bear the idea of him stepping into the wicked battlefield against the Vipers with not enough experience with them beforehand.

“I’m not letting you get anywhere near danger like this, it’s The Vipers. Without any experience with them in the past, there’s no way you’ll make it out of there.” The weigh of my decision hung above me like a noose, knowing how desperate he’s already got to make me stay and to what levels he could climb to make me think I have no other choice. “I’ll be fine, you can’t do this shit alone.” He pleads, the look in his eyes almost begging me to let him go with me, the vulnerable side of him is starting to show that rarely anyone gets to see.

While in the middle of the conversation mix between stubbornness and desperation, my phone rings inside of the pocket of my jeans, alerting me of an incoming call. Pausing for a moment before answering the call, finding out it’s coming from my boss with a demand to get the job done as fast as possible since if the Vipers figure out our plan they’ll be on the move immediately. He hangs up the phone, it beeping which indicates the call has reached an end.

“I have to go, don’t follow me.” I provide, shoving my phone back into its spot while picking up the black hand gun sitting on a nearby old crate. “Don’t dare to argue with me about this further, I have to get it done before the Vipers catch on.” He slumps over to me, rolling his eyes at how idiotic my decision is. Delivering a soft kiss on my forehead before letting go of me completely, glancing down at my face with sorrow etched into the features of his face. “Just don’t die on me, okay?” “I won’t, I promise.” With the last words placed on the table, I take off and walk towards the exit. Slipping on my helmet for protection before hopping onto a black motorcycle, sparing Chris one last glance before taking off into the dark dangerous night with determination to prove my worth and end the Vipers for good.

Guestlist!

| - @strnzzvsp - @sturnsxplr-25 - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - |

[kcokaine]

Hi sorry but people on twitter are saying you’re a nazi and I was just wondering if that was true??

Not only is this quite outrageous take on someone without like 0 actual proof. I can admit in the "proof"(the zionism thing which people mean as Nazism) people used against me was me at most being insensitive/ignorant which i already sincerely apologized for because i wasn't edjucated on the matter whatsoever. It was not right of me and I never repeated that after i found out about the truth of things.

But also this is ridiculous. I'm not american, I'm from a country that has been wartorn by nazis and communists. All my life I was taught about atrocities these two sides did to central europe and other countries. If you had a swastika tattooed on you here you would get literally arrested or killed on the street. But that isn't even an argument, that's just me stating how stupid and hypocritical it would be of anyone to support such things from the area i was raised in. I'm highly anti nazi, anti facist or anti anything that is even similar to that. I stand with civilians and innocent people that are being collateral damage to war and governments. Therefore I'm not a trump supporter, i was always left leaning i was always for rights. Hell I'm a bisexual woman, how could i ever support someone like Trump in my right mind?

I do not understand where this claim is absolutely coming from and i dont understand how people disregard the severity of saying this online with confidence. This is such a serious accusation that can ruin reputations unrightfully and just shows how people have no interest searching for more proof or anything before saying serious things because all they care about is drama and that the finger is not pointed at them in that moment. We as society got too comfortable about canceling and just saying anything, growing into complete parasocial relationship within each other. You are either no person to them, no human being or you are a glorified idea. Everyone is a person behind that screen and if they ever got over they pride and looked themselves in the core they would understand they also do mistakes and not everything is black and white.

I'm hurt by these accusations. This isn't anywhere close to calling someone names or weird for having odd preferences and stuff in fandoms. This is claiming that I support actual genocide, suffering of real people which is fucking awful. It makes me sad, deeply hurt. I'm not saying im better than anyone else, i dont need to be, I want this genocide to end same as anyone else would. I reflected, I took criticizm to heart and I'm now trying to truly do something with my following, i retweet donation links and donate to the charities with spare money i have.

The truth is, no matter what I say, it will never be enough for the people that just want to have moral highground, they act like they never made a mistake, like they were never ignorant in their life. I wonder how they would like it if someone took something terrible out of context and endlessly kept posting it on social media just to feel better without you having a proper chance to redeem yourself, always being seen as a "nazi" in some people's eyes because someone lied about you. It's sad and I'm sorry you keep seeing this lie about me. I think about it every day. And with this message I wanted to let you know what I truly feel and think. If you believe it is on you, but I'm finally putting my thoughts out there after months of thinking.

[frnkiebby]

so i know posts like these are already circulating and i know this one is a fucking novel, but i want you guys to hear it from me too.

for a lot of us, we’re in that worst case scenario. it feels like the end of the world or the beginning of the end.

but that’s only true if we let it be.

that’s only true if we just give up and shut up.

maybe taking a stand, in whatever way that is for you, feels like beating against a brick wall and that you don’t matter anymore. That’s not true. don’t let yourself believe that. don’t let them take you out before the fight begins.

more so don’t let them take you out when fighting is becoming even more important than before. because the fight never stopped. unfortunately a lot of us aren’t ever going to be in a position where we aren’t fighting.

i want you all to remember a few things:

—there’s strength in numbers, not safety necessarily, but strength.

—your voice can be your greatest weapon. don’t ever give that up if you can absolutely help it. even if it’s taken away.

—your only true job in this world and life is to stay alive. at the very core and base level, you are the most important person in your life.

—if staying alive means going incognito then you fucking go incognito.

—you fight in whatever way you can physically, emotionally, mentally until you can’t anymore. and if that happens then you fight to stay alive even if that means fighting against your own brain.

—you can’t help anyone if you’re dead. you can’t help yourself if you’re dead.

i’m going to post a list of whatever resources i can find within the next few days and i want to remind everyone that regardless of if you’re a follower or mutual of mine, new here, or have never interacted with me before, i’m here. you can dm me, you can send me asks or anons, whatever— i’m here.

my general rule is that i don’t dm with minors because i’m an adult and there’s honestly no reason for me to, but i’m suspending that because i feel like it’s my duty as an adult and human being to provide support to anyone in need of it despite their age and if I’m the only safe adult someone can talk to, then I’m going to fucking be that safe adult. i’ve promised myself to be the kind of person that i desperately needed when i was a teenager and child and i’ll be damned if i don’t do everything in my power to make sure no one has to go through anything similar to what i had to.

i love you guys, internet stranger or not, and you’re not alone.

remember that if nothing else.~🎃

[rewritingcanon]

Do you have any thoughts on scorbus kids king (beyond Albus insisting that they’re all named after stars and constellations and the likes) because in the same way that they’d get married at like 18-19 a la ‘traditional’ wizards i think they’d be the couple to turn up to christmas one year with a baby without telling anyone (nobody knows how they got the baby and theyre not saying shit) and boom. The first wotter-malfoy grandchild

oooooh! hmm! i actually go back and forth on scorbus children a lot. like i dont have set ocs or anything for them. i can see them with or without kids. i can see them with many or just one. i can see them as boy dads and girl dads. i can see them as all adopted or as donor-conceived. likeeeee i can see everything tbh. but i can tell you what i’m usually set towards:

i reckon one of their babies (i’m thinking the second one if they ever get so far) is sooooo weasley-coded. they don’t act like scorpius or albus but as their fucking grandma ginny. like they may not have the token red hair at all but they certainly act like one. and they’re a stereotypical gryffindor. (first gryffindor malfoy perchance)

i’m also thinking they need to have a diva daughter. like a mini narcissa/lucius just minus the moral abhorrence (they may or may not have a consumerism problem though)

one of the babies has to have the blond malfoy hair. preferably the eldest. idc if that makes me a stickler for tradition.

also i think they would pull the “my grandad is harry potter” “did you know i’m the chosen one’s grandkid?” “oh yeah just going to my pop’s place tonight… did i mention he’s harry potter?” ALL THE TIME 💀 like they would nottttt understand albus’ angst about it (at first) because they won’t experience the same type of pressure as being harry potter’s child.

i think it would be sooo funny if they had kids who are really popular in school and are super charming and good-looking and athletic and just very cool and easily liked. and meanwhile they’re dads are the biggest fucking socially inept losers.

if i was nice i’d give scorpius a bookworm kid. but i don’t think that would happen 😭 he’s fr cursed to be the only nerd there.

now here are some parent!scorbus hcs:

the whole misunderstanding angst between them is scorpius wants to rant to his child about the ottoman empire’s invention of major medical instruments and the child just wants to go play footy with da boys 💔

you best believe albus suffers the potter curse of just never understanding his child 😭 he would totally argue with them all the time. not to the point where they run away though.

i think albus would feel the desire to be a father more than scorpius would initially, but albus would be the strict parent. probably because he did shit like running away and deleting his family from the timeline so he doesn’t want that to happen again yk. how can you blame him

scorpius is the dad that spoils his kids rotten. like he’s NEVER mad. he’s always telling them how proud he is of them and how lovely and cool they are and he’s just constantly inflating their heads to the sizes of large balloons. he’s the dad they go to when they want to ask for something because he’ll normally give it to them. he’d rather they be brats then be unconfident and hate themselves.

also scorpius would get crazy separation anxiety. like it doesnt matter if his kid is 25 that’s his baby and they need to be in arms reach at all times

albus can be the type to freak out at his kids ngl 😭 tbf i dont think he’d do it without reason but he will definitely make them cryyyy and run to their rooms. yk when one of ur parents yells at you when ur a kid and u cry angry tears and can’t verbalise your feelings because you’re tiny and dont know the right words yet. and then you look to your other parent for help and they’re just standing at the side like “🧍‍♂️” yeah the one just standing there is scorpius 💀 no way he’s risking getting clocked too.

scorpius might not voice it in the moment but he’s very good at damage control and managing his family who probably runs quite high on emotions. also he’ll sneak his kids sweets to cheer them up even if they deserved to get yelled at lol

albus is the dad that cleans and washes and styles his daughters’ hair 😭 and he will do it aggressively too like he ties the cleanest but tightest braids and plaits and ponytails you best believe. also he doesn’t play around when his kids come home from primary school with a head lice notification slip. best believe he’s going to scrape through everything.

the kids definitely think scorbus are way too lovey-dovey with each other. cringiest parents ever.

albus is definitely the “how dare you talk to your father like that” kind of guy about scorpius.

albus would pack the most delectable lunch boxes ever and scorpius would write the sweetest daily notes for their kids and put them in the lunchboxes to cheer them

they do not play about bullying whatsoever. someone is getting right hooked if anyone dares with their kid. not hexed, right hooked

albus sobbed when he had to say goodbye to his first child for hogwarts. like he ugly cried right in the middle of the platform. almost collapsed.

scorpius is bombarding their kid with letters. like he’s writing them four times a day to ask how things are and how theyre finding classes and if their classmates are good to them?? and has to be asked to stop 😭

yk how harry was gassing tf out of hogwarts to albus only for it to be shit? just know albus is telling the biggest horror stories about the school to their kid only for them to go there and for it to be fine. this is the visual vibe btw:

albus’ favourite kid is definitely the one who is most like scorpius in some way. but he will deny it

scorpius still tucks them in every night no matter if they’re adults

albus is the type to bitch out alllll of his kids’ friends. “i don’t like [insert friend]” “why” “they seem very…. fake.” “dad you literally have zero friends besides papa why are you speaking rn”

scorpius loves hosting his kids’ birthday parties (bonus if he can make it extravagant) and albus hates it (he dislikes every other child except his own)

albus the type of dad to get the malfoy white streak and a beer belly and blame it on the stress of being a father (he loves his kid(s) heaps, just to be clear).

scorpius would tell his kids when they fell down and scraped themselves that his kiss could make it better. and when he kissed their bruise or cut he’d do a tiny healing spell and fix it so for yearssss these scorbus kids thought their dad was had super magical kisses (yk damn well albus took advantage of that excuse 😭)

if they adopted a kid of another race to them, scorpius is going leaps and bounds to understand his baby’s culture and raise him accordingly so they don’t feel too disconnected (albus will do so too but scorpius would be such an expert at it because he’s a research freak).

i think scorbus would generally follow traditional wizard norms but their kids wouldn’t. the kids are living in the house until they are 35 or something. reason is because their standard of living at home is amazing. albus cooks the best food. they get spoilt rotten by scorpius. they have the combined fortune of two of the richest wizard families… yeah life is good

i shall stop it there but lmk if you want me to yap more because i havent even started on aunt lily and uncle james or their crazy grandparents 😭

[voxofthevoid]

relate to being turned off from satosugu bc of the fandom. especially being on twitter makes me feel crazy omg bc i'll see posts where people are straight up acting like gojo was completely fine with what geto did bc gojo is just oh so down bad for him and loves him more than anyone else in the world and he doesnt care about anything he just wants geto back. and that is just. so untrue and also so boring, imo.

Because to me, gojo truly *is* a good person in his actions. he says crass things and maybe his mentality can be detached at times, but he always helps people where it counts. Even when he was taking Riko's body away and he asked geto if he should just kill the cult members and geto said no- I have a hard time picturing gojo actually going through with it even if geto *had* said yes. Because for all that gojo postures, I don't think he truly has that kind of bloodlust and rage in him, imo. Not even saying that I think killing those cult members would've been bad, or that Gojo would never ever kill anybody (simply not true), I just simply don't think gojo wouldve stopped walking, turned around, and killed allll those people in that instance (or if he did, I think he wouldve felt,,, off about it afterwards, despite what he said).

But I see so many stsg shippers who act like the only reason gojo was heartbroken about the situation was just because geto left him, and not bc, yaknow, geto committed reprehensible atrocities and became a supremacist. and i'm like,,, are we watching the same show? it's truly such a BAFFLING perspective of the relationship to me. like why erase their moral differences ? doesn't that make the ship more interesting? Sometimes I feel like the reason they do that is bc they can't handle the fact that Geto post-defection is seriously NOT a good person. at all.

stsg as a ship could be sooo much more interesting, imo, if people didn't erase the fact that geto BETRAYED gojo with what he did. not just the leaving. the village massacre, the parricide, the fact that he had no shame about it and stuck by his actions. all of those things betrayed gojo. bc i think gojo truly does want to help people, and he thought that, no matter how hard it was, he would always have geto along with him to do it, and that would make the pressure easier. instead geto chose to become one of the people that makes gojos job harder, lmao.

i think if shippers actually acknowledged that fact the ship wouldn't feel so fucking boring to me.

I’d save you from Twitter if I could, friend. Not saying other sites are free of harebrained idiots. I have Getou and satosugu blocked here for a reason, and I’ve seen screenshots of rancid fucking takes from TikTok and Instagram. Even Reddit—and I’m talking about canon discussion subreddits that generally ban ship talk—didn’t spare me from having to see people’s most reductive takes on this ship. But Twitter in particular seems to be where brain cells go to die.

Nothing in the world can make satosugu compelling to me, but objectively, it’s a ship with rich potential—for angst, for drama, for fluff, for toxicity, for love, for hate, for all of it combined. Like you’ve said, one of the most interesting facets of their relationship is how their bond culminates in betrayal. I’m personally quite interested in the fact that Gojou killed Getou despite loving him, after sparing him for eleven years because of the very same love. It’s not like Getou was ever harmless—he was a special-grade curse user, not the kind of threat you want running around. His cult activities and killings weren’t exactly subtle either. That angle—the fact that love makes Gojou turn a blind eye to Getou’s actions until he crosses a line even Gojou can’t abide—is very, very interesting to me as someone quite obsessed with Gojou’s characterization. People who have an equivalent interest in Getou would find plenty there to peel apart, probably. The two of them together would also offer rich, nuanced grounds for exploration, and I’m sure there are people doing just that.

But fandom spaces as a whole have become exceptionally sanitized recently. I’m not talking about people who generally simply prefer fluff and write that regardless of canon dynamics; there’s nothing wrong with that. We’re all allowed our self-indulgent tastes. But what you’ve described—a tendency to erase characters’ dark or grey morality, to think along black-and-white lines that put people into neat little boxes, to remove unsavory or unhealthy elements from relationships—has been plaguing fandoms more and more, especially fandoms with a large number of young(er) fans. JJK is definitely one of those.

I’ve seen similar takes on a lot of JJK ships as well as platonic relationships, like goyuu shippers asking why fic authors write Gojou as predatory toward Yuuji in canon settings with their canon ages (yeah, a real mystery why a 28 y/o romancing/fucking a 15 y/o would be written as predatory) and dad!Gojou truthers earnestly arguing that Gojou has paternal feelings toward Megumi (or Yuuji or his students in general) and is also such a good dad. I’ve seen it with even sukugo and tojigo, in the brief days before both wound up on my blacklist.

Basically, it’s a fandom-wide issue in the English-speaking JJK sphere (I’m sure the Eastern side and other language/region-specific sides have their own debates and issues, but I’m unfamiliar with those), and because satosugu is the biggest ship in this sphere, it has a significantly larger number of voices making themselves heard—as well as a significantly larger number of nuance-allergic dumbasses making themselves heard. The latter tends to be so fucking loud, often drowning out the other voices. It can feel inescapable, even with filters and shit.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Incidentally, if you've ever wanted your Durge to fight like Bhaal for some reason - or would like to have Bhaal hunt them down in person if they resisted him - Bhaal's usual in-person tactics are wandering the area in stealth assassinating a bunch of guards (usually sowing panic, sometimes allowing them to scream leaving the bodies on display or even giving them a slow death so their comrades can watch them die) and then entering open combat with what little is left and then just really casually killing them all.

Knives is good, but killing people with your bare hands is best. Never be ashamed to just fucking punch people.

Bhaal also flat out doesn't care about healing, as you may have seen in the feral ending, and will keep fighting until the physical body collapses. Also gets more aggressive when an opponent manages to land a hit: he kills you, not the other way around.

Furthermore: be unkillable. Just fucking refuse to die no matter how many killing blows your opponents give you until they're literally yelling 'why won't you die??' at you. So ultimately all hitting Bhaal back does is make him murder you harder.

For textual illustrations, I collected some sections of Bhaal's fight/assassin scenes because I could. Also Cyric and his beloved pony:

"There's something beyond the outer curtain," he said, trying to gain Cyric's interest. He removed his scabbard and placed it upon the dusty banquet table. "Or so the watch says." Cyric had little concern for what lurked outside the walls to frighten his men. He decided to change the subject and asked, "How is my pony? That fellow carried me well, considering how hard I rode." "With rest it'll recover - provided someone doesn't kill it first," Dalzhel said, returning to the fireplace. "There are those who grumble that it has eaten better than the men." "It's proven more use!" Cyric snapped. The pony had carried him nearly one hundred and fifty miles over the last three days. A war-horse could not have done better. He considered threatening death to anyone who touched the pony, but rejected the idea. The order would breed resentment, and someone might take up the challenge.

You hear that, Cyric. 'Someone.'

I like to imagine Mask is laughing her head off in this scene, considering she's almost definitely aware of Bhaal lurking in the shadows spying for Myrkul and murdering two guys and listening to this conversation, and she knows exactly what he's going to do having heard that.

Sometimes Bhaal doesn't even kill them. Immediately.

Two of the men were pointedly looking away from the well. Since it still provided water, it was the one item the castle's periodic inhabitants kept in good repair. A moan, low-pitched and feral, issued from the well's depths. Tied to the blood-smeared crossbar was a gray cord that descended into the dark pit. Dalzhel stepped forward and grabbed the cord. Without speaking, he began to pull. An anguished scream rang out deep down the well. Dalzhel allowed the cry tocontinue for several seconds before dropping the cord. "What was that?" Cyric asked, peering into the black depths. "Edan, we think," Dalzhel reported. "He's still alive," Fane added informatively. "Every time we try to pull him up, he screams." Though he had seen many slow deaths, and had caused one or two himself, Cyric's stomach turned as he tried to imagine what had happened at the other end of the rope.

Cyric peered inside. Alrik faced the corner, kneeling in a pool of his own blood. He held his hands cupped in front of his stomach. A barbed, wooden tip protruded from his lower back, suggesting that a stake had been driven through his body. Because of the barbs, the stake could not be removed without dragging Alrik's intestines out with it.

"No!" A high screech followed. It did not fade, even after the man's throat should have gone hoarse. Cyric turned toward the gatehouse, unsure of what he would find. Few humans were capable of the efficient brutality with which Alrik and Edan had been tortured. Still, the thief moved at his best pace. If he appeared frightened of the murderer, his men would no longer be afraid of him - and that was an invitation for mutiny - Dalzhel and Fane followed close behind. By the time they reached the gatehouse, the scream was no longer audible. A dozen men had gathered in the stairwell, standing in a line running up to the second floor. Their torches cast a flickering yellow light on the walls. The men did not even notice Cyric when he arrived, so Fane bellowed, "Out of the way! Stand aside!" When the onlookers made no move to obey, Fane muscled a path up the stairway. Cyric and Dalzhel followed, eventually reaching a doorway. Five men stood inside, staring at a crumpled form in the center of the room. A dark pool was spreading about their feet, and the barest whisper of a croak came from the shape on the floor.

-

Cyric and his lieutenant were thinking along the same lines. During his life, Cyric had known many evil men. Not one was capable of what he had seen tonight. "Have the men gather in groups of six," the thief ordered. "One group in the great hall-" A terrified whinny sounded from outside, interrupting the instructions. "The stable," Dalzhel observed. The men mumbled, but stood still and waited for their orders. Again, the pony whinnied, this time sending chills down Cyric's spine. "We'd better have a look," he said, cringing at the thought of what they would find. The men on the stairs reluctantly started to ward the stable, Cyric and Dalzhel close behind. By the time the hawk-nosed man reached the ground floor, the pony was quiet. As Cyric stepped into the courtyard, a ghostly wail whistled through the castle. Outside the stable, ten men stood with their swords drawn, peering inside and clearly reluctant to enter. Cyric slopped his way across the ward and pushed them aside. Grabbing a torch, he entered the stable, his sword arm aching with the desire to lash out at something. The pony lay dead in its stall, a withered and puckered hole over its heart. The lips of its muzzle were twisted back in horror, and one eye stared directly at Cyric. Dalzhel approached and stood next to his commander. For a moment, he observed in silence, wondering whether or not Cyric was mourning the beast's death. Then he noticed something on the beam over the stall. "Look!" A circle of drops had been drawn in blood. Cyric had little trouble recognizing the Circle of Tears.

This is exactly how I play BG3 from the perspective of areas full of not-yet-hostile enemies:

"Milord, Captain Beresford bids me inform you that two guards are absent from the outer curtain." Deverell frowned then asked, "Is it still raining?" The page nodded. "Aye. The drops are as red as blood and as cold as ice." The boy could not keep his fear from showing itself in his voice. Deverell stopped whispering. "Then tell Beresford to worry no more, and we'll discipline the derelicts come morning. I've no doubt the guards are hiding from the strange weather." [...] The page entered again and approached Lord Deverell. In the room's silence, it was impossible not to hear his whisper. "Milord, Captain Beresford orders me report the absence of three sentries from the inner curtain." "The inner curtain?" Deverell exclaimed. "There, too?"

-

The halfling had no idea what it was that the guards were fighting, but he knew that it had torn through them with frightening speed. [...] The guards knew little more about their opponent than Sneakabout. Orrel had seen something crawl down a dark corner of the inner wall. A moment later, a timid-looking man had stepped out of the shadows and walked nonchalantly to the keep's entrance. Orrel and another guard had stepped out of the foyer to challenge him. He had knocked their halberds aside, then slipped a dagger out of his sleeve and killed them both with a single, long slash. A third guard had yelled an alarm, which had also proven fatal. The stranger had thrown a dagger through the guard's throat, silencing him in midscream. Fitch, the sergeant, had ordered the survivors to retreat inside. He felt foolish for running from a lone attacker, but the smooth efficiency with which the man killed left no doubt that he was no ordinary assassin. Because their assignment was to protect the keep tower, Fitch thought it wisest to retreat and bar the door, then send a man to call for help. His strategy didn't work. The doors were thick and heavy, designed for strength instead of manoeuvrability. As the sergeant and a guard pushed them into place, the stranger stepped out of the foyer. The guard died an instant later, the attacker's fingers wrapped around his larynx. Brandishing his sword, Sergeant Fitch yelled his last order to the men on the stairs. "In Azoun's name, keep him downstairs!"

To Adon's left, the stairs descended in a gentle, clockwise spiral. Five feet down, another torch hung in a sconce, casting its dingy light upon the cold stone steps. Where the stairwell curved out of sight, the shadows of four Cormyrians were retreating up the stairs. Each silhouette held a polearm. Judging from the shadows, it appeared a single man was pursuing them. One of the Cormyrian silhouettes lunged. A flurry of activity followed then a weak chuckle rolled up the stairs. An instant later, a man screamed in agony. The other three guards retreated another step. Their chain-mailed backs were visible to Adon now, but the attacker remained unseen. Adon could not believe a single man pressed so fiercely, but the shadow appeared to be nothing more. [...] A clamor arose outside the tower as word spread that the keep was under attack. The tattoo-headed man turned to listen for an instant then calmly returned his gaze to the two guards in front of him. The stranger stepped forward, slapping their halberds aside as if the weapons were no more than sticks.

He also has stupidly high AC:

The remaining live soldier shifted to the other side of the landing, then raised his sword. The guard was deliberately giving the god an opening so Adon could attack. Heedless of the trap, Bhaal stepped forward, and Adon swung his mace at the avatar's head. The god easily ducked the blow. Before the Cormyrian could slash, however, the Lord of Murder punched him in the abdomen. The man barely retained his balance and stumbled back on the landing [...] The Cormyrian obliged with a vicious overhead slash. Bhaal sidestepped it easily, moving backward toward Midnight's chamber. The magic-user's door flew open. Midnight stood in the entrance to her room, dagger in hand. She had been watching the battle in silence, cursing the loss of her spellbook and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Finally, it had come. She thrust the blade into the avatar's back. Bhaal's eyes widened in surprise. He started to turn, and Adon seized the chance for an easy attack, smashing his mace into the avatar's ribs. The god's knees buckled and he tumbled down the stairs, roaring in a rage. The avatar came to rest six steps down, Midnight's dagger still planted in his back. "Is he dead?" Midnight asked. Bhaal rose and glared at the magic-user, cursing in a language no human could duplicate. Without paying any attention to his wounds, the Lord of Murder jumped for the landing. The Cormyrian yelled and leaped to meet the avatar, blade flashing. Bhaal met the guard in midair, blocking the soldier's swordarm with a bone-crunching blow and simultaneously driving his fingers into the man's throat. The avatar reached the landing with the guard's gasping body in his hands, then dropped the corpse down the stairs without a second thought.

Bhaal lifted a hand and felt the wound. His fingers came away bloody. Without so much as turning around, he kicked backward, catching the cleric in the ribs. Adon flew into his chamber, crashed into his bed, then crumpled to the floor gasping for breath and wondering how he would ever pick himself up.

If you don't have a knife at hand, stabbing them with your own broken wrist bone is fine:

Without warning, Bhaal stopped and spun on his pursuer, jabbing at Cyric with the sharp bone protruding from his severed wrist. The fallen god followed the jab with an open-handed strike from his other hand. [...] Cyric was at Bhaal's back. The thief attacked with a vicious slash he hoped would cleave the avatar down to the breast bone. But Bhaal heard him coming and, easily breaking free of Dalzhel's hold, pivoted out of the way. The God of Assassins caught Cyric's arm, then used the thief's own momentum to throw him ten feet into the brush. As Cyric sailed past, Dalzhel snatched his sword off the ground then plunged the blade into the avatar's rib cage. Bhaal snarled and kicked the Zhentish soldier in the stomach.Dalzhel fell backward and landed with a crash. The Lord of Murder casually plucked Dalzhel's sword from between his ribs and tossed it aside. Then he leaped onto his opponent's prone form, thrusting the splintered stump of his wrist into Dalzhel's throat. Dalzhel screamed once then fell quiet.

Just wholesale beating the living daylights out of an opponent is also good, and I think this might be one of Bhaal's favourite memories (and fyi Cyric did not win the fight between them. Mask did):

Cyric slashed. Bhaal easily dodged, slapping the thief's sword hand aside. Cyric kicked, hoping to keep his attacker away. The avatar blocked the foot, then stepped in close and clipped his opponent's jaw with a fist as hard as stone. Cyric's ears rang and his head swam. He tried to swing his sword, but Bhaal hit him once more. The thief felt his body going limp. The Lord of Murder struck his jaw again, then his stomach, then continued pummeling Cyric until he dropped his weapon and flopped to the ground in a half-conscious heap. While Bhaal battered Cyric, Adon and Kelemvor rushed toward Midnight.