#where the world gave him a normal choice to realize himself in life

[taolaoo]

"Modern Arthur would be a mechanic",

"No, he'd be a gas station attendant!"

"He'd be a trucker!"

Dawg, he'd be an artist 😭😭🙏 you don't know this man like I do

[elsecrytt]

so i had a thought.

what if 236 is actually jujutsu tech propaganda?

mei mei is broadcasting this entire thing, right? what better way to protect gojo from bounty hunters etc., than convince the entire world that he's already dead?

the final battle happened offscreen, with significantly less fanfare. gojo rescued megumi, defeated sukuna. the day was saved.

at a cost.

gojo gave up everything - at least, everything he valued. the six eyes, his abilities as a sorcerer. he assumed that would make him a normal man, and he was right -

what he didn't realize was that it would also make him blind.

so now... you live in a nice apartment complex. a guy moves in next to you.

you can't help but notice he happens to be blind - at least, he's wearing a blindfold, uses a cane, but he's often swearing and stumbling through his porch, over his entryway. he is very, very blind.

you, wondering what the fuck up is with your obviously blind neighbor who seems to have no sense of self-preservation.

he walks into objects all the time, especially hitting his head on things, since he's so tall. forgets his cane when going out. the dude just left his door open the other day, like, WIDE OPEN, who DOES that?

helping gojo learn, not only how to be human, but how to be disabled. how to not be disgusted with being disabled.

gojo learning that being blind isn't the end of his life, nor the end of his happiness - life is still worth living, even without one of his senses.

helping gojo mourn his lost sense while still finding things to enjoy. gojo who learns to cook by taste, by feeling heat or texture, with your help. gojo learning to organize things so he always knows where they are from memory.

bringing gojo audiobook versions of your favorite stories even if he teases you for your taste. he listens to them when he has nothing to do, which is most of the time, now.

he goes out on walks all the time because he doesn't have a job, you learn. while it's nice to not have to work, you can tell he comes from money, his life comes with a gaping hole inside it, one that isn't entirely explained by the blindness.

gojo who's overstimulated all the time because he no longer has infinity as a barrier, but somehow also as touch-starved as ever, alone in a foreign country away from all his students and colleagues.

gojo, who has only ever done Big Things with his life, who has only ever been an Important Person doing world changing things, now, just an ordinary guy.

he barely cares what happens to himself now. it's not that he wants to die, or anything. it's just that he doesn't have a reason to live.

and that wouldn't change overnight. not with cooking lessons or audiobooks or friendly greetings whenever you see him by the door. not with smiles or waves (he can't see them) or a braille rubik's cube you find online (how did he solve it in under a minute??) or karaoke (he has an AMAZING singing voice, and he knows so many songs better than you do?).

it wouldn't change overnight, because nothing worthwhile forms in a day, or two, or even a week or a month.

but gojo's life doesn't have to be amazing a day after he's gone blind. or a week. or a month. it's okay if it's difficult, he learns, it's okay if he hates it, hates himself, hates every choice that brought him here, even if he would never take it back.

it's okay. it gets better. with you there? it's getting better.

[fresh-fanfics]

Yandere! Kaoru Hanayama x AFAB! Reader

TW: Depression, Mommy Issues, Stalking, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Delusional Thoughts.

Reader: A foreign college student who's currently taken. She's a bit of a brat, but has a good heart.

So I finally have an idea for a fanfic with Hanayama. I really like the idea of making Yandere fics with him, he just seems so perfect for them. This fic is gonna be a multipart, I'm used to making slow burns so if you don't swing with that, I don't know what to tell you. Buckle up? Anyways, enjoy.

Hanayama was no romantic man. Even with all the money and power in the world, no girl would ever want to stay with someone as dangerous as him. For a while, he was satisfied with this life. He had accepted that no person would ever look at him in adoration and pure love. As empty as it was going day to day, girl to girl, brothel to brothel, it was enough to distract him from his loneliness. When work became too much, he distracted himself with empty pleasure and the moans of prostitutes that were just there for the money.

He laid down against a brick wall, bleeding on the cold and dark floor at a filthy alleyway. It had been one of those days where the underground world was at a state of unrest, violent gang wars breaking out without any signs of stopping. He had no choice but to step in, show everyone who the real boss was. Hanayama knew he would survive. He always does, but sometimes he wished he didn't. He knew he needed to move, but peace like this was a luxury. Any man that tried to disturb this solemn moment would not live to tell the tale. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the cold wind blow against his face.

"Oh my God, sir, you're bleeding! Are you okay? What happened?" A feminine voice took Hanayama out of his thoughts, his eyes opening to find a woman that bent down with concern in her eyes.

He stayed silent, his steel-hardened gaze observing her delicate stature. She was a cute little thing, the equivalent of a tree sapling that had yet to bloom. He trumped her in size and strength, yet she was unafraid. Hanayama had seen hardened men twice her height and stature that would quiver at his feet, but not her. This naive woman who dotted over him like cattle. He watched her ramble about and rummage through her purse for some kind of thing that would stop the bleeding.

He knew it was useless and no amount of nursing from a stranger was going to make the pain disappear, but he commended her effort despite how foolish it was. Did she even realize who she was helping? She was naive to be tending to a man that has crushed millions of gangsters like a grape.

"Okay, almost...Got it." She had tied a makeshift tourniquet around his left arm using her cardigan.

"Can you get up?"

The large man gave a slight nod, struggling to stand up on his two feet while this stranger tried to help him stabilize his trembling form.

What was this woman doing? She must have either been the most oblivious thing on the planet or the most wreckless. She certainly didn't look like she belonged here.

"You speak good Japanese for a tourist." He spoke at out of the blue, making her slightly jump from his sudden comment.

The woman gave a forced chuckle.

"Actually, I've been living here for a while now. I know I don't exactly look like I am, but this is still my home as much as yours."

Kaoru felt conflicted, processing the words inside his head. Despite being born and raised in Japan, it didn't feel like home. Being raised in a Yakuza family was not easy for a young kid. Violence was your normal, and there was no telling if you would live to fight another day. He envied her naivety, the innocence in her eyes that he never got to keep. It was depressing to think about, to say the least.

"We definitely need to get you to the hospital. These injuries are not something you can shrug off." She reached for her phone before he grabbed her wrist with his other hand, causing her to flinch from its tight grip.

"No need. I know a doctor. I'll give you the number." He noticed her trembling form, loosening his grasp as he dialed the numbers and letting the phone ring.

"Hello? Who is this? How did you get this number?" An elegant voice could be heard from the other side, calling out to whoever was there.

"Kureha. I need your services." Without even uttering his name, Hanayama knew that Kureha would recognize his deep and raspy tone. He spoke with conviction and directness.

"Kaoru? What happened to-You know what, it doesn't matter. Where are you right now?" Kureha sighed in exasperation.

"I'm in an alleyway at the Red Light District near Deathmatch pub. Come quick." He hung up without so much as a goodbye, dropping her phone in her hands.

"You can go. I don't need your help anymore."

The foreigner girl's face soured, glaring at him as she shoved her phone in her bag.

"Hmph. You're welcome." She grumbled, gritting her teeth and turning up her nose at rude man.

"I guess I'm not needed here. Good luck. I hope you recover well." Sarcasm dripped from her tone as she left him alone in the alleyway.

He watched her figure disappear through the bustling crowds in the city streets without even as much as looking back at him. Hanayama stared into space, alone in a cold alley once again. Despite her bratty behaviour, he didn't mind it at all.

"Huh. Strange. This girl is something else. For someone who claims to have lived here for a while, she's damn clueless. I'll admit, she has guts to talk down to me like that.."

Before he could dwell on it any longer, a series of loud sirens blared down the streets with an ambulance stopping nearby. Paramedics clamored to take him away for treatment, rushing him towards the hospital.

It would seem that he'd have to hold that thought for a while...

To be continued.

[chaifootsteps]

I think the other HB Take I've grown to dislike the most is

'When Via realizes what her father sacrificed for her, she'll be so thankful / sorry for doubting him!!'

and like, no?? no she shouldn't be?

it was never her decision for her parents to stay together all that time, they made that choice themselves. The kid is not responsible for what the adults are doing. The show pulling a "Stolas got hurt for her sake so she needs to be grateful for that when Stolas is the one who made the choice to do it" is lousy logic, imo. It's blaming Via for being too young to know what was going on and expecting her to answer for her parents' choices & actions

not to mention It's made very clear that all the fighting after Stolas cheated is making her home life miserable. Anyone who's been between two warring parents will tell you how much it sucks

and also like - maybe the show wants to frame it that Stolas gave her a 'normal life' but the show is wrong about that, gonna be blunt

nothing about the Goetia's home life was ever 'normal'. Stella & Stolas never wanted to marry. they never wanted a child together. Everything about their life was artificial from the get-go and doomed to failure, especially since Stella presumably never even put in the effort to playact 'happy families' once Via was born

and like, the show has written Stella to be so comically evil that she threw Still Not Divorced parties in their house, where Via was living, that she advertised in the newspaper. Via would have to be pretty checked out to not notice that Stella and Stolas can't stand one another. Kids aren't dumb about that kind of thing, they will notice. And given Stella does nothing but screech/insult Stolas every time she's onscreen (and it's implied she's physically abused him before), if Stolas actually cared about Via's wellbeing he'd want her far away from Stella. This self-martyring routine of his makes no sense.

On some level a lot of people judge parents irl for staying with abusive partners if they're subjecting a child to that environment, too, and that's with the understanding the parent loved/still loves the abuser on some level. Stolas never loved Stella. Why is he subjecting Via to her, especially when he's the one who's a prince and could easily have her thrown out of the palace?

it makes the shows' determination to never show what the dynamic between Stella and Via is even more frustrating, because if they did get one it would at least lend some credence to Stolas' 'I thought there was some benefit to us staying together for Via's sake' routine. if she has a relationship with her mother then it makes some sense, even if that relationship is strained at times. but the writers are terrified of giving Stella any dimension at all so I'd bet good money we won't even see them exchange a single line of dialogue by the end of s2 (unless it's for Via to be manipulated by her, since she needs to be the world's biggest dummy so Stolas can cry some more)

(also like, sidenote that's just been annoying me personally - why would a Hell noble be so hung up on the notion of having a nuclear family? he's royalty. he can easily afford to raise Via alone. what are the normative values of Hell, exactly?? why would anyone care if Stolas gets a divorce? why can't the show clearly indicate what is and isn't expected of royalty in terms of upkeep of behavior and reputation?)

(also also, if Stolas was written to be deluding himself about what he did being good for Via then this could be interesting. but I doubt they're gonna go there with the creator's pet he's turned into in s2)

She probably will end up running back to Stolas, apologizing and expressing her gratitude for anything. Because that's the kind of show this is and that's the kind of writer Viv is.

[gentrychild]

5 hc au: if you have read csm, an au where Izuku (and cast members of your choice) are devils in disguise? I think it would fit if Izuku was the Quirk Devil, and represents the fear of superpowers

1 - Inko finds a child covered in blood someday and naturally decides to adopt him and to teach him the usual things like "Brush your teeth after you ate.", "Study at school.", "Don't eat people. You don't know where they have been.", "Always remember that your mom loves you." and so on. It's pretty obvious that Izuku is not human and he does feel the urge to grab superpowers here and there but his life is pretty good... until Inko gets really sick. Izuku, who is about 16 at the time, needs money for her treatment. He is recruited by the devil hunters.

2 - Izuku's boss, Akatani Hisashi, is a very creepy and incredibly scary man (well, to most people. Izuku's sense of fear is a little... out of this world). He is actually the first Quirk Devil. Back with All Might's fight, Hisashi came so close to death that a new Quirk Devil was born into hell but the bastard managed to drag himself back from death, creating the very first existence of two Devils sharing the same concept. Hisashi then made a contract with the HPSC... I mean, the government, who were positively drooling at the idea of having such a powerful Devil obeying them. I am certain it will have no unfortunate consequences.

3 - Izuku gets Todoroki Touya as his supervisor. Touya is a hybrid that fused with some kind of Fire Devil (maybe the Holy Flame Devil) that has excellent results on paper but everyone refuses to work work with him. They are soon joined by Touya's brother, Shouto, who has a contract with three Devils and a sword.

4 - Uraraka (Gravity fiend) and Bakugou (explosion fiend) are in another team. Takami Keigo is a normal devil hunter and Touya's sitcom nemesis.

5 - Hisashi fully intends to kill Izuku before too long because even if he is fascinated (and kinda flattered) with the occurrence of another devil sharing his concept, he can't really tolerate someone else like him. He gave him to Touya's team because he knew Touya wouldn't realize the danger Izuku's in.

6 - Yoichi used to be a human guy who had the misfortune of meeting Hisashi.

7 - Izuku can both steal quirks and devil powers. For the latter, he sometimes eats them.

8 - Izuku has the habit of wearing gloves. Inko was a really good mother but she messed up on some points.

9 - This is sadly the AU where Natsuo was accidentally sacrificed to a Devil by his own father.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

"I'm sorry... I didn't even realize" for the "why are you avoiding me" prompt list, anyone of your choice <3

"i'm sorry...i didn't even realize" tw: depression

Essek doesn't like to think he's particularly needy. For so long now, he's danced on this tightrope solo, entirely responsible for his own survival in these war games he started. It's instilled in him a comfort in being alone, something he's been more often than not as he's been forced to stay on the run from the various entities who'd like to bring him to his knees.

Which is why it's so very strange, this grumbling in his chest, when for the third day in a row, his sending has gone unanswered. He's been in this derelict cabin in the Copia Wildwood for two weeks now, languishing and bored, and all he wants to do is be somewhere else. He doesn't think it's asking too much to reach out to Caleb for distraction—Tell me what you're working on, Caleb Widogast. Surely it is more interesting than the crumbling walls of this shack.—and yet his entreaties are answered with silence, and it's driving Essek mad.

Maybe he's done something. It's true that it's been longer than usual since he's visited the little cottage in Rexxentrum that is the closest thing he knows to home—perhaps Caleb has taken offense to his prolonged absence. Or maybe it's the question itself; is Essek prying where he ought not be prying?

(There is, of course, the horrifying possibility that Caleb is unable to reply to Essek's sendings, that something has happened to him, that in his desperate instinct for his own survival, Essek has left the most important person in his world vulnerable and alone. No. Caleb is capable. This is a possibility Essek cannot entertain, even for a moment. Not if he is to stop himself from going mad in this Light-blasted cabin.)

Three more days of silence, and Essek is ready to pull his hair out. He doesn't care that it's risky, doesn't care that Beau warned him of increased interest in his whereabouts in the chatter overheard from the Cerberus Assembly. He throws his meager belongings into his pack and quickly erases all traces of himself from the cabin. He takes out the thick wool gloves that Caleb gave him for their many sojourns to Aeor and uses them to focus his teleport. The familiar push and pull is almost a comfort as he disappears and reappears in the foyer of Caleb's cottage.

The place is a mess. The cats have clearly taken over, meowing in chorus and digging through the already-ransacked pantry. The smell is atrocious, and the worry Essek's been holding at bay rises in him like a tidal wave.

He doesn't call out, in case there are others in the house. He glides silently toward the closed bedroom door, almost too afraid to know what's on the other side of it.

What he finds is Caleb's bedroom, much as he remembers it, but far less bright and airy. The curtains have all been drawn, and there is debris and detritus from half-eaten meals everywhere. There is a large lump beneath the duvet, which Essek approaches slowly. "Light, is that you?" The lump shifts, and Essek floats to sit on the edge of the mattress just beside it. He pulls the duvet back to reveal the most disheveled, unkempt Caleb Widogast he has ever seen in his life.

"Oh dear." There is a haunted look in Caleb's eyes, eyes which seem to stare straight through Essek as if he isn't even there. His beard, normally shiny and well-shaped, is scraggly and rough, and the hair Essek loves to card his fingers through is oily and matted.

"Essek?" Caleb croaks. Essek wonders how long it's been since he's spoken, since he's had water. "You...are here."

"I'm here, my Light. You had me very worried." When Caleb's brow furrows in confusion, he says, "You haven't been answering my messages."

The confusion doesn't go away. "Oh. I'm sorry...I didn't even realize...I don't remember hearing them."

Essek doesn't even know where to begin. "It's been nearly a week since we last spoke. What happened?"

The glassiness has returned to Caleb's eyes, and Essek wants to climb inside of him and claw him back from wherever he is retreating within himself. "A week. I did not notice that either."

"How about we forget the whys, yes? First, a bath, and I will clean the cottage." He quickly casts prestidigitation on the few plates and bowls piled up on Caleb's nightstand in demonstration. "And then some proper food, I think, for you and the cats, and when you're ready, you can tell me what has been keeping you from me this past week."

Caleb nods, and Essek leans down to kiss his sweaty forehead. As he gets up to go run the water for Caleb's bath, his mind is swirling and buzzing with the possibilities of what has so thoroughly reduced the strongest person he knows to shambles, but he knows that he would face down the Dwendalian and Xhorasian armies together if it meant being here to help him piece himself back together.

[fandomfaeofveryfewf4cks]

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52424179/chapters/132621133

Mobius stands under that tree for a long time, just watching the house he doesn't remember living in. He's having trouble processing what happened. When they all rebooted the TVA to be about keeping He Who Remains' variants from starting a war, he had something to do to distract him. But that can only work for so long. He needed a change. He needed somewhere quiet to figure out what he really wanted. Because now that he had a choice - a choice that Loki gave everything for him to have - there was no staying behind a desk doing a job anyone else could do. So he left.

He left and quickly realized he didn't have many places to go. He can't just figure out when he got taken from his life on the timeline and go back to that life. He doesn't remember it and as he watches 'Don' with those two boys, he realizes he wouldn't fit in that life anyway. He has been through too much and seen too much to just be able to settle for an ordinary life surrounded by people who wouldn't see him as much more than a stranger in the place of who they once knew. It wouldn't be fair to anyone involved.

But then, what does he do? Sylvie had no trouble finding a place for herself in a world she'd never been in before.

Wait... Sylvie!

Sylvie had been hopping from universe to universe with no limits to what she could do and she eventually found a life for herself and a place she could call home. Maybe Mobius could do the same thing. But that still begs the question: Where should he go? Where is the place that will feel "right" for him, or even just like something he could settle for?

Well, since they don't need to worry about timelines branching any more, there isn't any harm in looking around before making a decision, right?

Now, there's just one more question to ask here: "Where should I go first?"

. . . . .

After jet-skiing for the first time that he can remember, Mobius came to the realization that the ocean spray in his face, the thrill of hopping over a wave, the speed, the taste of salt, and the freedom that jet-skiing gives him...is a little underwhelming.

Like, don't get him wrong, it's fun. There's a rush to it that is so much better than sitting behind a desk as well as a meditative quality to it that, combined with the excitement, gives him a sort of euphoria, but... it feels like there's something missing. It's as though in all those magazines full of admittedly idyllic descriptions, and stories from people who genuinely love these water crafts, there must have been some sort of fine print he forgot to read with instructions that would help make the whole thing worth it.

Oh well. Some dreams just don't turn out like you'd expect them to. That's just a part of life. He'd always imagined he and Renslayer were going to be friends for the rest of time, 'protecting the sacred time line' like the greater good they all thought it was. We saw how that turned out. Don probably thought he and his wife were going to live a normal life and die of old age or diabetes or getting eaten by a shark like normal people. Instead, his wife is gone, and he gets abducted, mind-wiped, brainwashed, and forced into working for what he thought were three space lizards determining the story of the universe. "In hindsight, that is a pretty crazy thing to believe, huh?" Mobius thinks to himself. "Maybe Loki had a better point than I thought, even back then, before he had really started to change."

That was another thing Mobius never expected. Loki has always been known for not being easy to predict. When Mobius was assigned to study his life and question him, it was a little easier not to fall for the facades Loki used to keep it that way.

Loki could be as sneaky and intimidating and threatening as he wanted, but at the end of the day, he mostly just makes things up as he goes along. He's very impulsive, even though he tries to make you think he's always 1000 steps ahead. This is the person who fell through space to presumably never see his homeland again and to land who knows where, so that he could have a dramatic death in front of his father and brother. This is also the person who very easily fell in with the Grand Master's crowd on one of the most chaotic worlds there are. He was D. B. Cooper for fuck's sake, jumping out of a plane, flirting with mortals, and stealing money he doesn't need all as part of a bet he lost to his brother.

Loki switched sides easily depending on what he could get out of it, but you could never trust him to truly be on anyone's side but his own. He also was just a bit of an arrogant dick. At least, all this was what Mobius was led to expect with what he'd read of Loki's life. And he was right. His expectations were fairly accurate on those counts.

But Mobius has a troublesome habit of believing in everyone's potential to be a good person. He didn't allow himself to form any hopes yet, but he still considered it possibly for Loki to actually care about other people. He knew Loki was charming and knew how to read people, meaning he could understand them and maybe relate to them. One of the best ways to connect with someone is to learn more about them. Most of the time, you end up finding you have a lot in common with them. Mobius thinks Loki is the one who didn't expect anyone to give him a chance like that. In fact, he probably didn't even believe he was worth it.

It's kind of funny, really. Loki spent most of his life defying everyone's expectations of him and throwing the rules of their lives into chaos, succeeding by playing off how he expected others to react to the things he did.

When those rules, that he based his own life on, fell apart, and the people he found himself surrounded by seemed to know exactly what he would do, he surprised even himself, and changed for the better. That's probably why Mobius didn't fully see it coming what he was doing at the end until it was too late. Or maybe he just didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe that Loki would soon be gone forever.

As Mobius stares at the salad he got for himself from a little place on the pier, he remembers the one Loki destroyed with his somewhat unnecessary display of how apocalypses are supposed to affect the way events cause branches from timelines. It was so over the top, as Loki always is, but it was also just so silly. The way he just stared into Mobius' soul, shaking the salt and pepper shakers up and down and up and down. The triumphant smile after he poured Casey's drink over it, like a little kid showing off his amazing painting skills on the walls. It makes Mobius chuckle softly to think of it. He thinks of Loki's smile and how it gradually became more and more genuine the more they just talked with each other. And they talked quite a bit for two people in the middle of saving the multiverse, about nothing and everything and things you really should rethink telling the person who's job is to keep you locked up or the person who's favorite prank is to put literal snakes in people's food or stab them after dying in front of them. Mobius almost wishes he would stab him right now, just so he can be back.

Aaaand that's the sign that he's thinking of Loki too much. Time to pick a new place to go and try and figure out what the heck he wants to do with the rest of his life. Maybe he'll go to see the Roman Empire before it fell. See what all those warriors really liked to do in their free time. He takes his time finishing his salad before getting out the tempad and setting the destination. He looks at the empty salad bowl, just plain white and round and not very interesting at all. There's huge mounted fish and stunning artwork on the walls of this restaurant. You can hear the calming waves and the group of sea lions just outside. There is no reason his attention should be so solely given to this silly salad bowl. And yet his eyes stay on it, even as they tear up. It isn't until he wipes at them that he looks away and stands up.

He leaves some money on the table and opens a time door to walk through. As he does, he feels a breeze ruffle his hair, brushing it away from his eyes. "Strange," he thinks, "all the doors and windows are closed, there shouldn't be a breeze in here." He looks around at the nearly empty restaurant getting ready to say goodbye to the morning calm and welcome the lunch crowd in an hour or two. He feels a warmth on his side and looks over to the large window where the sun has shifted its light and heat to blanket Mobius almost comfortingly. As he looks over, his eyes catch on a flash of the window, ever so faintly tinted green. There was movement of something not quite there, but unmistakably there enough to be visible. Like something between a shadow and a reflection. It was hard to make out a shape at first, but as it got bigger - no - closer, mobius saw the shape of a person with horns on their head and, if they looked closely, green and gold vines twisting around them like magic. Mobius stepped closer and was sharply met with two very familiar eyes. He took a breath.

"Loki?"

. . . . .

Part 2

https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfaeofveryfewf4cks/735068803984228352/part-1?source=share

[liamxxslater]

Name: Liam Slater Faceclaim: Cody Christian Age: 27 Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Species: Werewolf Occupation: Personal Trainer Relationship Status: Single Personality Traits: Stubborn, Distrustful, Aggressive, Caring, Loyal, Athletic, Impulsive

**please be aware of triggers listed below**

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGER WARNING: CHILD ABUSE, SA INFERRED, DRUG ABUSE, ANGER, MURDER, SELF LOATHING

From a very early age–ten to be exact–Liam Slater learned that he couldn’t trust anyone, not even those that had the obligation to keep him safe. Having lived in a small town for the first four years of his life, he was thrilled when his mother announced that they would be moving to Port Leiry. The family of two had already been through a lot in the passed years. Liam had lost his father when he was two and his mother became pregnant soon after and then gave his little sister up for adoption. A new move was exactly what they needed.

Liam was his happiest between the ages of four and ten. It was his mom and him against the world and he truly thought that nothing could come between them. That it would be the two of them forever. But then, soon after Liam's tenth birthday, his mother decided that another move to a neighboring town was needed. This time, it wouldn't be just the two of them, but her boyfriend would be with them.

It took about six months before the boyfriends' liking for Liam took more of a deeper turn. One that, as a child, he didn't understand, nor did he know how to stop. There were times when Liam begged his mother to not leave him alone with her boyfriend, but because she had to pay the bills, she had no choice but to leave him home with someone she thought she could trust.

For a few years the abuse went on, and Liam said nothing because the man told him that if he did his mother would pay the price. Wanting to protect her, Liam tried his best to keep quiet. But then, the abuse escalated and he couldn't handle it anymore. He finally told his mother everything, believing that she would do something about it. That she would help him. But she thought he made it all up.

At the age of thirteen, Liam spiraled. He found anything and everything he could to make himself numb to the world. Anything that might help him cope with the nightmares he experienced while awake, and asleep.

By the time he entered high school, he was deeply entrenched in all the wrong things. However, the football coach saw the potential that the young man had and asked him to try out for the team. He made the cut and it was there where he began to get his life back on track. Football–and really most sports–kept him from going back to the life of drugs. He knew he had to stay clean in order to be on the different teams. Keeping himself clean was no easy task but somehow he managed. Then when he turned sixteen his life once again changed. Liam was bit by what he thought was a dog while walking home from football practice. Suddenly, he felt as though he could no longer control his emotions. Over the course of the month, physical exercise didn't seem to help the anger he felt. The nightmares came back and several times, he exploded into arguments with his mother and now step father.

It wasn't until the next full moon that he realized what had actually happened. And while it was incredibly painful, Liam welcomed it, as it was much better than the anguish he felt in his mind for the last six years. What happened next, however, wasn't something he had planned. In his wolf form, Liam stalked through the house until he found his mother and step father. With his anger at a peak, he slaughtered both of them in their sleep before fleeing.

Liam's been on his own since. He made the move back to Port Leiry, trying to find some semblance of comfort. He left behind football scholarships and any potential for a normal life. And while he doesn't regret killing his step father, he hates that he let his wolf kill his mother too. He hates who he is. Hates who he's become. Hates what his life turned out to be. Liam wishes nothing more than to go back in time to when he was happy but he’s aware that those days are long over.

HEADCANONS

Even though he is a show off, and cocky, Liam has never been in a relationship. He's avoided them all of his life, as he does not like being touched. He is also aware of the expectations of a relationship and knows that he could never (at least not without therapy) meet those expectations.

He is much more comfortable around women than he is around men. Liam tends to keep his distance from all adult men, whether he thinks they are suspicious or not.

Liam desperately misses playing football. He doesn't hate being a wolf, but he does hate that being bitten and the consequences of that have led him away from the life he wanted to live.

Underneath all of the aggression and hatred, Liam is a genuine and kind guy. He cares about people and if he is close to someone, he will protect them with all of his being.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

LEAN ON ME ; This person is someone who found Liam at the age of seventeen and desperately wanted to help him. They know he doesn’t trust people quickly but they are a constant in his life and try their best to be there for him whether he thinks he needs them or not.

INTO THE FOLD ; This person has seen Liam before, has had a couple of conversations, and wants to try to get him to join their pack. (Could be tied into the first connection)

UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP ; This person is the only one that’s been able to cause Liam’s wall to crack. They mean everything to him and even in his low days, he’d do anything to keep their friendship.

FISTS AND FURY ; The hatred Liam feels towards this individual is almost as much as he hated his step father. He’s fought them physically on numerous occasions and uses them to try to satiate his anger, even if it barely takes an inch off.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

How would Mason react if he somehow ended up in the BBU or a similar world, where pets are determined by (supposedly) willingly signing up instead of by birth?

Mason would feel super uncomfortable. Like, that’s just a dude living in your house. That’s weird. Don’t do that.

Now Clyde would have FAR more complex emotions on this situation. Most surprising to himself is anger. What do you mean you had a full normal life before? What do you mean you were a human and gave it all up? What do you mean you had a choice?

He would be heartbroken and furious and unable to sympathize. I can see him ranting, maybe crying from anger, storming away from the conversation. He’d have to go calm down alone.

Then sit with the realization that he doesn’t want to be a pet.

Rudy would be able to sympathize. It takes him about 20 seconds thinking about normal responsibilities before he goes “nope no thank you I will stay a pet.”

I can absolutely see them having a bad argument about that. Both of them nearly in tears, rudy trying to explain but Clyde just flat out refusing to listen in his anger.

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - PART 6

CW: hand gore, broken bones, violence, passing out, emeto warning, torture

PART 5 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 7

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

With the fifth blow, he finally came to.

Fighting through the wild ocean drumming inside his skull, he felt white-hot pain creeping up his arm, unknown in his source. As he tried to pull his hand towards him, dizzy with nausea and not sober enough to realize what was happening to him, the pain only started to multiply.

With every second that passed, hundreds and thousands of tiny needles made his nerves mewl in chaos. The signals normally designed to keep him safe and alert ran rampant up to his neck and directly behind his eyes; dragging and dragging to no avail, his hand stayed wrenched against the table.

"Just one more..." a voice at the end of the storm spoke, soft words accompanied by a sickening crack just beside him.

As the steel met flesh again, the world went blinding white.

If he were able to hear his own screams, he would have noticed his scarf slipping back against his palate, the awfully familiar threat of choking came to his mind. Helpless to any of it, the pain rutted itself deeper into his insides, spreading throughout his whole body.

Even as he finally managed to rip his limb protectively to his chest, the despair kept on building. 

Blooming itches crept up and down the limbs, a primal attempt to push out as much pain as possible. His heartbeat frantically pressing against the hand on his chest, which started to feel more like a liquid; flowing through itself and back down his forearm, it became dangerously shapeless, numb at the places where skin split to let agony flow freely to the outside.

What did I do? I haven't… I wasn't...

A face became visible behind the white fog clouding his vision. Morris called out to him, pushing the squirming form back into the chair and held him in place. 

He did this. 

The fog, a presence he was too familiar with by now, gave room for just one single thought. 

He did this to me.

Elliot had never seen him so nervous, quickly talking to him but keeping an even level to eye him thoroughly. He must have knelt down to continue his gibberish. His face had gone rosy again, eyes bulging out of their sockets to underline his panicked expression.

"-ve to take a picture. I fix you right up, okay?"

Snatching back control over his body, Elliot used the fading shock to bring his head forward, smashing it against Morris' nose. Instantly, the pressure on his chest faded away and without thinking any further, he jumped up to get as far away as possible.

--------

Morris snapped back quickly after Elliot, obviously confused and semiconscious, pressed his forehead uncomfortably harsh against the other's face. It didn't even hurt, Morris was too agitated himself to react in any other way.

The wild expression in his captive's eyes was surrounded by a light splatter of red. Somehow, his method of choice must have spread the escaped blood all over its surroundings.

With a kick to the bound legs, useful for once as a point of contact, Morris simply knocked him down to the floor again to curb any kind of escape attempt.

He should have stayed asleep, that's all he tried to achieve with this theater, but nothing seemed to go as planned anymore.

As he laid on the carpet, still cradling his left hand and utterly lost in painful shivers, Morris quickly used his opportunity to grab him by the ankles.

He couldn't work like that.

Elliot had gone slack again, staring up at the ceiling with watery eyes so raw around the edges, it looked like they too were about to stain him red. 

Pulling him through the threshold, Morris managed to get them both settled onto the bathroom floor, ripping fingers away from the protective grasp and fixed them quickly onto the once white tiles.

--------

He remembered everything now. The car, the alley, even the fight that followed shortly after - like time was turned back to the biggest mistake of his life, to give him another chance. He would make use of it. 

Spurred by his new will to survive, Elliot let his free hand grab up into Morris hair, nails digging into the soft scalp and twisting the head away from his mauled side. 

Both their breathing went rapid now, but Morris still had the upper hand. His knee connected painfully with Elliot's stomach, threatening to cause even more damage than intended. Taking advantage of his loose grip, his right arm was ripped to the floor and kept in a tight squeeze under Morris' knee.

"Don't make me do this, Elliot!"

Never even thinking about stopping his struggle, Morris looked down at his captive horrified, nearly apologetic, as he pushed the fingers apart with his own. Trapped in violent hand holding, the man above let his body weight shift onto the vice-like grip, thus leaning directly into the abused flesh.

Unable to keep himself together anymore, the agony took over his higher brain functions with a high-pitched wail. Pushing the cursed scarf out of his mouth through a simple retch, everything his stomach could handle during the day just emptied itself onto the bathroom floor, to find its place within blood and tears.

A broken yelp slipped through the room, as Elliot let go of all consciousness; escaping his torture after all.

--------

He should have never done this alone, how stupid could he be? The mashed appendage on the bathroom floor let its blood pool freely, teared skin ripped open to reveal thin bones underneath, visible for anyone who would watch.

"Fucking hell!" Morris murmured to himself, taking a good look at the surrounding damage.

The tremors ripping through Elliot didn't seem to halt for even a second, though his eyes were half-closed and staring blankly into the void.

It was better that way, gave him more time for clean-up. Grabbing the first aid kit from his bag, he nearly forgot about the photo until the antiseptic fell out of his shaky grasp.

He needed to calm himself, immediately. A voice deep inside forbade him to leave his little bane on the ground like that, between piss stains and vomit. He tended to underestimate the risk of infection when it came to this house.

Snapping some quick close-ups of the mess Elliot caused him to inflict, Morris could finally get back to damage control.

If Amber wouldn't answer now, what would be had left as an alternative? He didn't plan anything after this point, frankly, not even after he got Elliot to the house.

His gaze stayed fixed onto the man's face: The horror of the last minutes, or day maybe, was etched into his features. Old and new bloodstains finding each other to blend seamlessly into his clothes and hair.

Morris would not resent him for this, he wasn't erratic enough to expect a man just to sit and take it.

Not knowing what else to do, he started to pour the disinfectant over the open gashes, thinned crimson seeping into the grout.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

[iyliss]

thanks. do you know the connection between being traumatized and needing more power for saiou in s4? like before mizuchi got kidnapped since it was to manipulate him? what was he going to use that power for (destinymaxxing)?

P.S. i was confoused when mizuchi said saiou would be happier if he had no powers/ became a normal human in 171? wasnt the problem that people were scared of them???//

Explaining Saiou's behavior in s4 is a little messy but also incredibly interesting to me so sorry in advance for how long will it take...

The first thing I'd like to point out is that I don't really think Saiou is right in claiming people were scared just for his power. Given how Judai and Johan were treated (bad, but still better), and that Saiou and Mizuchi both have social struggle beyond the use of their power, I think there is more to their isolation than just a general rejection. It's hard to tell if they have horrible social skills because of the isolation, or if they were isolated because of their inability to communicate but still. I don't think it was as simple as "power = evil" to every adult around them.

And yet Saiou seems to believe it was their power alone, that if they weren't there they would be accepted. At the same time, it protected and maybe saved them. I'm not sure Saiou could have gone far if he hadn't met Edo, and even then how would two young kids survive alone... Except their powers also furthered that isolation. When he says "I saw people and their heart as cards", he can mean many thing, but one of them is that he ends up only seeing reality through the filter of his predictions and people as the cards moving around on the table. Also I like the idea that the more he uses his power, the harder it is for him to connect to the present time.

At the same time, it's a struggle between safety and freedom. Knowing the future mean he can have a little bit of hope, and protection, especially in a world where they can't rely on anyone. It also mean his future is set in stone and he has no choice to follow his own prediction.

This is the setting for Saiou's desire to no longer have his power. He thinks that, without them, he'll be able to properly view people as people and connect to them like they do with one another, while not having the binds of a fore-told future.

Except he can't really just return to having a normal life like that. As I said, it's likely his isolation was caused by something else than just powers. And even then it's impossible to repair so much damage in little time, if at all. And then: Mizuchi is kidnapped. Something Saiou could have seen and maybe prevented if he had his powers. Not only is the hope he had about a normal life without them crushed, but he realize the safety he lost. So, if he can't have the "normal life" he wished for, he can at least get powers again so he doesn't have to live in fear. It's not about what he use them for, but about having something to hold onto.

In a way, it's similar to dependency/toxic cycles built through traumatic situation. Telling the future hurts Saiou in many ways, but it's the only thing that kept him going for a long time. He eventually has to break free of it, but it leaves him alone and scared without the one thing that brought him a sense of safety.

And overall, I love taking that duel as a general display of reaction to PTSD. Without talking about Judai, Saiou has only been out of danger for about a year (before that it was either the light, poverty, possibly abuse, who knows what else). This whole time he hoped that, once the danger is out, he'll be able to be happy and at peace. But he can't truly feel safe without the binds he has grown used to, and he can't see how to repair all that it destroyed. So, he wants to go back to what he knows even if it hurts himself and others.

Actually I'm not sure it helped but I hope it gave a little sense to Saiou's behavior in s4. (And thank you for the ask nothing brings me joy like having an excuse to spend way too long talking about Saiou ♥).

[bottomlessabyssposts]

"Mike don't deserve Will" -> BUT does Mike even want to be with Will in first place???? bc Will wasn't even sure Mike want to be his friend anymore in s4, can you imagine his face in s5 if El and Mike broke up, Mike goes to Will "ei my great love story, which I ignore you for a year for, didn't work but ei, you need me right? and i don't mind swing in your way so" ????? what is it Will a backup plan since plan a didn't work? The second choice, after El? exactly what he was to herny☠️ It will be an horrible writing and a disservice to both Will and Mike's characters. Mike need an arc where he accept the person who he is, forgive himself and stop to push himself in the perfect boyfriend role. Without, any romantic relationship for him would be forced. In this context I said "Will deserves better" bc Will deserves to be the first choice, at the moment he definitely doesn't feels like that with Mike.

have good evening<3

First things first, hello anon. :)

There is a whole lack of understanding of Mike's character in your comment, assuming that he's using Will as a plan B ?? Which is. Not true.

"Does Mike even want to be with Will in the first place" -> Absolutely ! Mike apologized as soon as he could to Will, and made amends with him. He VALUES their friendship, and even states that "Hawkins is not the same without Will". Whether it is romantic or platonic, Mike wants Will in his life.

"El is my great love story, which I ignore you a year for" -> first I'd like to point out it wasn't even a full year. The Byers left at the end of summer, and Mike visited in March... so... not a full year. Also, the whole "ignoring Will" thing lasted no more than three weeks, I believe. Lastly, Mike called (Dustin said Mike complained that the phone was always busy, meaning he called MULTIPLE times), and we know he called Will because he communicated with El through letters. It's unfair to say he "ignored" Will during their separation because Will didn't call, and I do not blame him. But it's time to see both sides, I think.

"Didn't work for El, but you need me so— and I don't swing your way" WHY would you assume he would EVER play with Will's feelings like this ? If Mike WASN'T remotely attracted to Will and knew of Will's love for him, he wouldn't do that, because Will is his best friend. Will is his own category. This is also clearly ignoring Mike's queer-coding and evidence of his own love for Will and ?? What ??

Also, while there is a lot of parallels between Henry and Mike, this one is clearly not it what are you saying 😭 Will has ALWAYS been Mike's priority. In s2, Mike pushed everything away to stay by Will's side, and even gave up on calling El on the talkie. Will has always been Mike's world and was never a second option, especially not to El. -> Mike was desperately trying to act as normal as possible, due to his own internalized homophobia.

The disservice for both of their characters would be that they NEVER know how much the other loves them. Mike's character arc is indeed to realize how important he is, but he can absolutely achieve this with Will by his side. Will is, has always been, and will ALWAYS be Mike's first choice. Mike approached him to be friends, and that was the best thing he's ever done, isn't it?

All in all anon, Mike absolutely can have both a boyfriend, and a better mindset.

Good evening. :)

[phantatrix]

Ghoul! Bruno One Shot

[In the aftermath of a fight with another ghoul, Bruno wrestles with a difficult choice]

Bruno Buccellati led an unusual life, but he wasn’t one to complain. Even when this unusual life knocked him down, he found some sort of opportunity to make the most of it. He’d been doing this ever since he was born. The world wasn’t too kind to people like him but home was the one place where he could find reprieve from the hardships his existence brought him. From the moment he was brought into the world, he knew he’d have a more difficult path, but it wasn’t all bad. 

Being half-human wasn’t all bad.

His mother was a ghoul and his father a human. Bruno liked to imagine their love was like a fairytale. Growing up, seeing his parents swoon for each other and balance their different lifestyles, his heart would swell with joy knowing he was a result of that powerful kind of love. Even when they separated, he still held onto his idealized views of romance. If a human and a ghoul could find love in spite of the odds, then that kind of love was bound to happen for him. Maybe that was the hopeless romantic in him talking, maybe he was just hopeless.

That hopelessness grew over the next several years following his allegiance to Passione. He kept his ghoul identity a secret and he was proud to say that he could pass very well as a human. It would appear that having a stand helped keep up the illusion-- little did anyone know that you didn’t need to be human to have a stand. As long as he could keep that up, maybe he had a chance for some semblance of a normal life. Yet, deep down, Bruno knew that love couldn’t flourish in a life like this. Day in and day out, he could feel himself growing numb to the murders and deaths happening in the community around him, some of which were his own doing. A mindless soldier doing what it took to survive.

When he began forming his own team, his frozen heart started to beat once more. First, Fugo made Bruno discover his own paternal instincts. The kid, whether he realized this or not, taught him empathy again. Bruno made damn sure to try his best to be a positive influence in Fugo’s life. His temper was as volatile as they came but over time, the kid relaxed and trusted him more and more. Then Leone, poor Leone, began to wrestle his way into his heart and carved out a space for himself from the moment he found him in the rain, drunk and depressed. The two of them combined gave Bruno hope, hope that he could care for people again, hope that he wouldn’t stay numb from Passione’s cruelty, hope that he could have his own little family. The three of them were family.

Along came Narancia, who made Bruno’s heart hurt from the state he saw him in. Fugo had found him dumpster-diving for any scrap of food and then discovered his condition was far worse. Bruno helped get him treatment for his eye and ever since, that kid refused to leave his side in spite of his warnings. Still, he couldn’t say he was entirely disappointed in Narancia’s decision; in fact, part of him was glad he could take him into his makeshift family. 

If any of them knew what he really was, god, he couldn’t bear to imagine what would happen. 

When he needed to, Bruno would sneak out of their little apartment in search of food for himself. On the rare occasions that either Fugo or Narancia or Leone would catch him entering or almost leaving the apartment, he had a slew of possible alibis that didn’t make them bat an eye. Whew. Lying to them wasn’t fun but it hurt a lot less than revealing the truth.

He never liked hunting but he had no other options presented to him. He couldn’t starve himself, no, that definitely wasn’t an option. One time he had put off eating for so long that he felt his own sanity and self-control slipping. No no no. He couldn’t risk hurting his family by doing something so careless again. 

One god-awful night, that risk turned into an all-too-real possibility. 

This is where our story begins.

Bruno curled up into a fetal position, hidden away in some alley, assaulted by the rain. Tears melted with the raindrops and rolled off his face. His clothes soaked in his own blood. His eyelids weighed heavily and he wasn’t sure if he could stay conscious for too much longer. His family would be worried sick if he wasn’t home soon.

Dammit.

It would be worse if any one of them found him like this. 

Dammit.

His brilliant blue and crimson red eyes couldn’t make out any of the shapes around him, his kagune positioned itself defensively in case that other ghoul came back to finish him off. He doubted it but he couldn’t be too sure.

Dammit.

How was he supposed to know he would run into that asshole of a ghoul tonight? It’s not like he was looking for a fight. He was just trying to hunt for some goddamn food to hold onto his sanity. Despite his own warning to himself, he’d been careless. The past month and half had been so busy for him that he simply didn’t make the time to eat until tonight. Faking eating human food also didn’t help his case but it does work wonders in keeping up appearances. The sound of footsteps against the wet concrete pulled Bruno out of his wandering mind.

Fuck.

The absolute last person he wanted to see him like this. Long, lilac hair plastered against his face, obscured by the shadow of a dark umbrella. His shoes splashed little puddles in their wake from the far end of the alley. His eyes, purple and gold like dawn, shattered from his defensive glare used to ward off strangers into one of concern and fear and worry.

“Bruno? Bruno!” Leone shouted as he ran to his leader’s side. 

Bruno called back his kagune but he knew his black and red eye was still there. He turned to face the other side in spite of how painful such an action was for him. How did Risotto manage to get away with showing his ghoulish eyes 24/7? If he managed not to bleed to death, he might ask him for advice on that.

Onto more pressing matters, Leone was quickly approaching and Bruno was running out of options and time. He shouldn’t see him like this, no, but even worse, he shouldn’t be around him, not in this state. 

The rising panic built up in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed for Sticky Fingers to come to his aid, maybe send him into some pocket dimension to hide or even zipper himself into tiny pieces before he could even hurt his dear Leone. Unfortunately, his stand didn’t manifest, he didn’t have the strength to even summon him. Just great.

Why, why, why did Leone have to show up now of all places, of all times? Why now?

“Go away! Please! Now is not the time!”

Leone either didn’t hear him or simply chose to ignore him. Bruno felt his cold fingers on his face and couldn’t help but open his eyes.

“Bruno, it's going to be okay,” Leone comforted. 

Gold and purple met red and blue. Bruno pulled himself away from Leone’s touch. 

“You’re not safe here! You have to leave!” Bruno cried.

Leone wasn’t one to smile or be the most comforting person, but with a small twitch up of the corners of his mouth, Bruno felt a little more at ease-- well, he would if he wasn’t busy fearing for the other man’s life.

“I’m not going anywhere. I knew from the start what you are and if I didn’t leave then, I’m not leaving now.” 

Bruno stared in fear and confusion at Leone. He couldn’t be hearing this right. He was careful every minute of his life. If Leone knew, how many others did, too?

Leone continued, “When you found me, a disgusting drunk in the rain, I thought you took me in just to eat me, but I was wrong. If you hold on just a little bit longer, I can bring you something to eat, but if you can’t wait, I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t be angry or blame you.” 

Bruno’s body racked with sobs and Leone embraced him tightly. He wondered if this is what love was, if this was the love his parents once felt. If love was a cat finding the one mouse it didn’t want to eat. The temptation would always be there and it would be all too easy to make a meal out of Leone, but he wouldn’t dare hurt him. 

Bruno nestled into the crook of his neck. Leone was warm, Leone would take care of him. The umbrella fell, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the assault of the rain on the two of them. All that mattered was that Leone was here with him. Leone was his. 

The cool droplets of rain contrasted against the sticky warmth beneath him. 

“Bruno…” 

Bruno immediately pulled himself back and stared in horror at the gaping wounds in Leone’s neck where he had bitten and his torso where his kagune had stabbed him. The light was quickly fading from those purple and golden eyes. 

“No, no, no! Leone! Shit, this isn’t what I wanted! I’m sorry!” Bruno cried out. 

Leone cupped the side of Bruno’s face. “All I ever wanted... was to find a way to thank you for saving me... all those years ago. If this is… If this is what it takes… to save you from yourself… to protect our family… then this isn’t so bad,” Leone whispered in between his gasps for air, blood dripping from his lips. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” choked Bruno as he cradled Leone in his arms. 

“I love you, Bruno.” 

His eyelids slowly fell shut and his body weighed heavily against Bruno’s. 

“Leone?” 

Bruno froze in fear of his own actions. Maybe a small bite of human flesh was all it took, but Sticky Fingers manifested by his side, comfortingly stroking Bruno’s hair while awaiting his command. Bruno had neither the energy nor time to curse his stand’s late arrival. Delicately, he pulled out his kagune and his stand quickly zipped shut both wounds. Bruno brushed the hair out of Leone’s face, anticipating the moment his eyes would flutter open. The panic only grew inside him; Leone needed proper help and fast. Abandoning the umbrella, he positioned Leone so that he leaned against his side and stumbled towards the alley’s exit.

“If you wake up, Leone, I’ll tell you how much I love you. But, you have to wake up, please.”

[the-everlasting-downpour]

XIII. — The Crisis.

Amin opened his eye.

He was standing on the balcony, the same balcony he had last stood on. The concrete was almost black because of its peculiar glow, the puddles that had long ago formed on it reflected only the blackness of a high but nevertheless heavy sky. It smelled of moisture, cigarettes, and a capital – these smells were more familiar than anything else. The thick metal railing in front invited a glimpse of the futuristic city panorama of the night.

Amin took a step, then another, then a third, and so approached the railing. He put his hands on them and looked around, hoping to see the familiar city – the city he had built in his mind, where only perfect, intelligent people lived, where not a single written law was broken, where everything was fine-tuned like the last watch – the city of his ego, striving for everything perfect. Instead of this city, however, he saw a familiar pyramid.

This obsidian creation, which had appeared with the outbreak of war and nightmares, continued to grow even after the return to peaceful times, striving toward the black sky. Its smooth surface reflected the light from who knows where. The sharp edges, even from afar, made his fingers shake and ache with phantom pain. This pyramid was familiar to him, for it was him.

All his fears, all his dreams, all his images, all his desires, all his aspirations, all his worlds, all his ideas, all his plans, all his losses, all his flights, all his happiness, all his suffering – all of himself is sealed in that pyramid, hidden under a mass of black, sharp volcanic glass, as if in a sarcophagus. But now he intends to take everything for himself, now he intends to discover himself, to create on the ground of the destroyed the indestructible, on the ground of the unimaginable the imaginable. Now he intends to live as one, tired of being a piece of himself.

Amin stretched out his hand. Fingers went to the pyramid. The all-encompassing blackness began to ripple, to crawl across the visible balcony. Chunks separated from the pyramid, turned, rubbed by eternity into dust, into a mass of uncontrollable energy, and rushed toward Amin. A thousand different voices began to speak around his head, but he did not understand their language – their dialect, which no one even knows how to be silent.

His legs poured heavy and soon became petrified, turning to obsidian. The pain of the black glass, unbearably sharp and unbearable, grew more and more intense by the second. Voices began to call out to Amin in hundreds of incomprehensible tongues, merging into a single noise. The parts that separated from the pyramid grew larger and larger. Amin's body was almost completely transformed into an obsidian statue. And in the instant the last piece, transforming into uncontrollable energy, separated from the pyramid, seeking to engulf him completely, the brightest white light swallowed everything around it.

It was so bright that it obliterated the pyramid's sarcophagus around it. It was so pervasive that it erased the reality that existed within. It was so cleansing that it gave Amin a new form. Now, still unable to comprehend his salvation, he stood in the space of all white. Soon his senses returned to normal, and Amin was able to move his body. Seeing no other choice, he moved forward.

Out of the light rose new constructions, new images were created, new paths emerged. The light provided warmth and salvation. But for Amin, it was too much. He did not need light in its fullness – just a part of it, the part he called himself. And so he walked until the light was left behind; and then, in the absence of light, he realized that he was that light.

The insides shine with infinite possibilities. Expanding at the speed of the universe, the soul is like the greatest of kings, kings, emperors. The first man with the title of a true self-sacrificing hero. Blessed by good fortune. The past life, all the memories, all the unanswered questions and unanswered answers – all behind him burns with the brightest flame, but the movement continues.

There is a grimace on the face. A grimace in the face of life, snide and disinterested. Only good things can happen to the ruler of his own life. The image of the new era of existence is already there, on the horizon of everything: setting goals, waking up early, having a wife and son, investing, breaking the chain of fate, destroying my enemies like caterpillars, crushing them with strides forward into an uncharted future. This is it, the life of homo universalis.

Square opened his eye.

The sky shimmered with every shade of gray; patches of deep black moved about in its senseless space. A cold and sticky wind blew through his pant legs and sleeves, mixing with the icy water. Square got up on his elbows and looked around – the ocean was raging, striking his ears with an intolerable noise. The circle of the horizon wriggled beneath the waves that pelted him on all sides.

He rose to his feet. The cold enveloped – his fingers and face were freezing, losing their senses. The ocean was trying to gain strength, to create a wave that would shower him from head to foot, to bring him back down, to submerge him, but every attempt was in vain, for Square did not feel fear as he had felt it before. He looked at this ocean, at its waves, at its cold, at its blackness, and the only thought flashed through his mind – it had no right to exist anymore.

Suddenly, he felt his right hand holding something with a firm grip. He picked it up and looked at it – the pistol was clenched tightly in his palm, to the point of discomfort. He checked the chamber – there was a round; he checked the magazine – full to the brim. Inserting it back in, he looked around that ocean one more time, one last time before its total disappearance, and, burning inside with hatred, a bright flame started by a desire to live, Square shot into the ocean.

The bullet did not pierce the invisible platform on which he stood; it penetrated the thinnest film of water and rushed into the blackness, leaving the brightest trail behind it. The impact, far out in the depths, echoed with a resounding, muffled echo. Suddenly, the ocean exploded in its unrelenting fury, but Square knew that this was a deathbed attempt to conquer it – every second this black ocean of eternal despair disappeared into the unwavering darkness below the silt.

As the minutes passed, the ocean slowly died. Soon Square's feet were standing on the silt desert, stretching for miles onward. The cold wind disappeared, the sky stopped. All around were pillars immersed in the silt – the pillars of his life. Square began to walk and saw these pillars rise on their own, towering above him and holding the sky above his head.

The eternal and devastating dream was finally stopped. The world around him is nothing but a vast, meaningless desert, but the flame of a new thought hovers in his mind – it is not a desert, but a plane for new possibilities. The sky is shimmering gray with black dents, heavy and pressing on my head, but behind it there is the brightest sun, which with every step burns the veil with its arrows of rays.

The air is clear, full of ozone, with the old smell of the ocean of madness and exhaustion. The old troubles were left behind. Contact with all loved ones was reestablished. Sins were forgiven on both sides. Love and acceptance became the new normal. Silt turned into black soil from which fresh grass grows. The sun far overhead is forever smiling at the walker.

The pale moonlight streamed through the lattice window, along with the cold wind and the smell of lavender, inside the solitary cell, where in the space of bare walls there was nothing but embers and ashes from the burning electric chair and electrodes hanging from the ceiling, indirectly hinting at an agonizing death. There is no more of that death, and there never will be again.

On the floor, near the switch, lay a corpse – a familiar corpse, the corpse of his executioner, who had killed him time and time again. The corpse had been turned on its stomach; there was a bullet hole in the chest, where his heart was. The corpse had been lying there for a long time – you can tell by the rotting pool of blood and the slowly emerging cadaveric stench. The desire to look at this corpse disappeared rather quickly, and Blixter turned away from it.

The lattice door from the cell opened. He left the cell and found himself in a long, wide corridor with cells identical to the one he had left on either side. If you walk to the right, you will find a bare concrete wall. If you go to the left, you can try to open the door that was far ahead. I didn't feel much urge to hit the wall, so Blixter moved toward the door.

Looking right and left, peering into the cells on the other side, he suddenly noticed that the interior of the cell from which he had come – the burnt electric chair and the dead executioner – was repeated in every cell to which he turned his gaze. Each cell had only the charcoal and ashy residue of what the unwitting executioner had sat on, electrodes hanging from the ceiling, attached to his head, and the executioner's corpse pulling the switch at the end of the time set, which was measured by a ticking clock that ticked quietly.

Soon, without looking, Blixter reached the door. Grabbing the cold knob with his cold hand, he yanked it sharply and unlocked the door. From there it was only a long climb to the surface, at the end of which there was a point of the brightest light. Blixter walked toward it. At first, the steps were easy, but as the long minutes passed, the steps became harder and harder – the legs were filled with leaden heaviness, and he wanted to catch his breath. But Blixter, despite the heaviness, continued walking, despite the acrid desire to stop, did not stop and continued his walk.

Soon he emerged on a crystal-clear surface. A vast field of possibilities stretched out in all directions. The nightmare was behind him, and Blixter moved forward. An infinite shift toward infinity. Glowing dots forming the horizon – distorting scenes from an unforgiving childhood and a bloody adolescence. In the distance, in that space, a shot rang out. Then another. Then a third. Space is filled with a cannonade of shots, forming stars falling upward, into a black hole on the ceiling that does not exist.

Images of different cities and places emerge all around; the main one is the night beach, when the familiar sound of the engine rumbles behind, and the bar, where reality was finally shattered. Bitter tears. Iron blood. The will to live. The will to power. This is where the past was left behind. An individual with a huge soul, boiling blood, a warm heart. An expanding whirlwind of previously unperceived emotions and feelings. The whole world was seized within, the desire to give it away absent. Somewhere in an eon; maybe two. Knowledge seeps into the porous consciousness, filling to the brim the glass of the brain. The teacher has disappeared into oblivion, but the movement continues. Friends and loved ones may die, but the movement continues. The captured world itself will declare its independence and gut out of the body, but the movement continues. The movement continues; onward, into the unknown.

The last soul went into oblivion. M. rose from his last resting place, put out the fire, picked up his bag, and slung his hunting rifle over his shoulder. After checking the time and direction, looking around in the white space, he began to walk, far ahead, disappearing into the white haze.

fin.

To the Table of Contents. / To Ch. XII.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

28th January >> Mass Readings (USA)

Saint Thomas Aquinas, Priest, Doctor 

on

Saturday, Third Week in Ordinary Time.

Saturday, Third Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the feria (Saturday))

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-19 He was looking forward to the city whose architect and maker is God.

Brothers and sisters: Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. Because of it the ancients were well attested.

By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was to go. By faith he sojourned in the promised land as in a foreign country, dwelling in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs of the same promise; for he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and maker is God. By faith he received power to generate, even though he was past the normal age –and Sarah herself was sterile – for he thought that the one who had made the promise was trustworthy. So it was that there came forth from one man, himself as good as dead, descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sands on the seashore. All these died in faith. They did not receive what had been promised but saw it and greeted it from afar and acknowledged themselves to be strangers and aliens on earth, for those who speak thus show that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land from which they had come, they would have had opportunity to return. But now they desire a better homeland, a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

By faith Abraham, when put to the test, offered up Isaac, and he who had received the promises was ready to offer his only son, of whom it was said, Through Isaac descendants shall bear your name. He reasoned that God was able to raise even from the dead, and he received Isaac back as a symbol.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Luke 1:69-70, 71-72, 73-75

R/ Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel; he has come to his people.

He has raised up for us a mighty savior, born of the house of his servant David.

R/ Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel; he has come to his people.

Through his holy prophets he promised of old. that he would save us from our sins from the hands of all who hate us. He promised to show mercy to our fathers and to remember his holy covenant.

R/ Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel; he has come to his people.

This was the oath he swore to our father Abraham: to set us free from the bonds of our enemies, free to worship him without fear, holy and righteous in his sight all the days of our life.

R/ Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel; he has come to his people.

Gospel Acclamation John 3:16

Alleluia, alleluia. God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him might have eternal life. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Mark 4:35-41 Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?

On that day, as evening drew on, Jesus said to his disciples: “Let us cross to the other side.” Leaving the crowd, they took Jesus with them in the boat just as he was. And other boats were with him. A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up. Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion. They woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Quiet! Be still!” The wind ceased and there was great calm. Then he asked them, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” They were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saint Thomas Aquinas, Priest, Doctor 

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading Wisdom 7:7-10, 15-16 Beyond health and comeliness I loved her.

I prayed, and prudence was given me; I pleaded, and the spirit of Wisdom came to me. I preferred her to scepter and throne, And deemed riches nothing in comparison with her, nor did I liken any priceless gem to her; Because all gold, in view of her, is a little sand, and before her, silver is to be accounted mire. Beyond health and comeliness I loved her, And I chose to have her rather than the light, because the splendor of her never yields to sleep.

Now God grant I speak suitably and value these endowments at their worth: For he is the guide of Wisdom and the director of the wise. For both we and our words are in his hand, as well as all prudence and knowledge of crafts.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 119:9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.

How shall a young man be faultless in his way? By keeping to your words.

R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.

With all my heart I seek you; let me not stray from your commands.

R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.

Within my heart I treasure your promise, that I may not sin against you.

R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.

Blessed are you, O LORD; teach me your statutes.

R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.

With my lips I declare all the ordinances of your mouth.

R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.

In the way of your decrees I rejoice, as much as in all riches.

R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.

Gospel Acclamation Matthew 23:9b, 10b

Alleluia, alleluia. You have but one Father in heaven; you have but one master, the Christ. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Matthew 23:8-12 Do not be called (Rabbi,” you have but one teacher who is Christ.

Jesus spoke to the crowds and to his disciples: “Do not be called ‘Rabbi.’ You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers. Call no one on earth your father; you have but one Father in heaven. Do not be called ‘Master’; you have but one master, the Christ. The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[fabien-euskadi]

leaf, wine and murder please

leaf 🍁

what is your favourite season? As I said before, a long-lasting (extremely severe) depression made me start hating Spring, Summer, Autumn/Fall and Winter. In every season, I would find things that would attack my aim and will to live: the weeds and the insects in Spring, the heat and the tourists in Summer, the shorter days in the Autumn and the cold, rainy, miserable weather of Winter (where I live, it barely snows at all - but I hated the single time it did).

However, my depression is, probably, on the verge of being no more. So, I can appreciate all the good things of each season - the flowers and long days of Spring (I have no issues with pollen), the laid-back feeling of Summer, the colours and the petrichor of Autumn and the coziness of Winter. And those four - Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter will become my favourite seasons.

what is your favourite comfort food? I already mentioned crisps. But let's talk about vegan cheese sandwiches. They taste like a normal cheese sandwich. They just don't leave me all bloated. And I like a simple cheese sandwich, with a common vegan cheese. I appreciate simple things. And a vegan cheese sandwich is simple - and perfect.

Another comfort food is bread with vegan mayonnaise. I could eat it every day - but it would kill me, obviously. But it's wonderful and wonderfully simple. But toxic, extremely toxic.

wine 🍷

how far would you go to help yourself? To the point of acknowledging that many things that happened in my life were not my fault. To the point of acknowledging that, many times, things end up very badly, even if I did everything absolutely right. To the point of acknowledging that I may be a better person than I give myself credit for. To the point of acknowledging that my decisions were not miscalculations - they were bold moves that happened when I didn't have enough information to make a better choice. To the point of acknowledging that my fearless moves may be, after all, part of what's call living - and that means that I am living, not hidden in fear.

what about to help other people? If there is a lesson that I have learned the hard way is that you cannot change the world single-handedly. And that you cannot be the reincarnation of Jesus, even when you look like the European representations of him - after all, good old fella Jesus ended up nailed to a cross, despite being (allegedly) son of God Almighty himself.

Nowadays, I am more restrained. But I still love to help other people, but never to the point of saving the life of someone who stabbed me in the back and became my nemesis. Yes, I did just that. And gave shelter to a homeless dude as well.

do you think humans are inherently selfish? I think humans are both inherently selfish and selfless. The problem lies in which voice you listen to. Sadly, far too many chose to be selfish. But I'll stay with the others, if you don't mind.

murder 🔪

are you capable of getting very angry? Perhaps. But never to the point of becoming aggressive or violent - unless I would have to defend the ones I love.

All my life, I tried to suffocate rage inside of me. Nowadays, I prefer to understand it, like I would try to understand a good friend trying to explain me something. And then I embrace anger - and anger is no more. I acknowledge anger is there, until it is not.

Life is too short for bad feelings. Life is too short for bad blood.

what are you most afraid of? Lonely wolves fear nothing. Or… at least, I don't fear anything that can happen to me. If you feel like shorting me six times on my chest, go ahead, make my day.

But… I fear for the well-being of the ones I care for - I even fear for the ones they care for, even when I don't know them at all.

what would be the worst way to die? Like a coward. Simple as that.

Or like someone who reaches their death bed and realized they never lived at all. I don't want to be an Ivan Ilyich, please (I mean, the main character from the Tolstoy's novel).

(thank you very much - and may your week may be a river of smiles and rainbows)