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the-lightless-flame · 1 year

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ok i promised @bornetoblood so here is the web!agnes headcanon

this takes a bit of explaination so ill go into how it would work and then ill talk about why i like it

(also obviously this is just based on my interpretation of agnes and her story, if u have a different interpretation of her thats fine!! i just love my funny messiah woman and want to see her happy)

this became very long so the essay is under the cut

ANYWAy so the 'how':

jonny said in the season 4 q+a that one could probably sever their connection with the desolation via a completely selfless sacrifice.

agnes' suicide probably fits this description; the in-canon explanation (from what agnes told arthur) is so that the lightless flame could eventually try the scorched earth again with another messiah.

i dont fully believe what arthur said, and its definitely possible that she was just telling him what he wanted to hear. in that case, her making the decision to once and for all stop herself from being able to bring about the scorched earth probably counts as a selfless act as well, cause even if the scorched earth was never actually going to work, she didnt know that.

the first option doeshave a certain irony to it imo, but it doesnt really fit with how i see her at this point, as i think at this point shes not that loyal to the lightless flame (see: jack barnabus). it doesnt really matter to the headcanon tho, all that matters is that agnes committed a selfless act.

doing this disconnected her from the lightless flame, but in doing so she could have potentially connected to another entity.

all that's really required for becoming an avatar is choice, but physical and metaphysical death is encouraged; agnes is experiencing both (physical is obvious, and metaphysical as the death of her as messiah of the desolation).

imo the web is the obvious choice. she already has a connection with it through gertrude and hilltop road, and a lot of agnes' story is about the ways the lightless flame controlled and groomed her, as well as how her final weeks were when she finally managed to get some kind of control over her life (even if that control is her own death). basically, since control is a big theme in agnes' story, and taking control is the prominent feeling that led to her death, i dont think creating a connection to the embodiment of control is such a reach.

so agnes goes through something similar to jon's coma. maybe the lightless flame thinks shes dead, maybe they realise she isnt connected to the desolation anymore and leave her alone.

from there, agnes just does whatever. probably tries not to do anything too notable. she burns emma harvey's house with gertrude obviously, and she does need to feed her power but i dont think she'd do anything thatd get in a statement.

ok so thats how i think it could happen. now why i like it:

first, i dont really like agnes having died. it works fine as an ending to her story as a part of the show at large i guess, and it doesnt really matter to me in that sense. but for her as a character, i think her ending just makes her generic tragic character and thats not really my kind of thing. idk, like i said im not mad about it being her ending or anything, theres definitely a lot to be said for how her living under the lightless flame couldve led to that decision, but its not really what i want for her.

there is also how it relates to the queer reading of her story, but i talked about that earlier.

also i want her to be happy. leave me alone.

second, i really like the idea of agnes having a semi-normal life. she still has web stuff, but its mostly just subtle stuff (we know there are a lot of spooks that arent reported to the institute, and i think what she does is probably that). gertrude tracks her down at some point to help killing emma harvey, but that it.

the web probably doesnt need her to do anything major, cause thats what annabelle's for and shes only a few years away from being an avatar.

in the eyepocalypse she probably tries not to make things too bad for people in her domain, as much as thats a thing she can actually do.

third, iirc it means that every web avatar thats dead was killed by another web avatar. and i think thats fun. obviously she wouldnt have been a web avatar for raymond, but she probably wouldve been marked and thats enough for me.

i like the imagery of the web keeping people only until theyve become obsolete, i imagine it probably wouldnt want to keep people around once theyve done what it needed them to do. also spider imagery.

fourth, agnes did not get NEARLY enough opportunity to be gay. like she probably fucked jude for at least a while but there is. no way that relationship was healthy. (i could talk a lot more about that but this is already too long)

idk who with. i like gertrudeagnes conceptually but i also like them only having met once. they probably did fuck tho.

i saw a fic earlier that shipped her and annabelle and i havent read it yet but that sounds fun.

idk maybe she just finds a normal, non-aligned girlfriend. thats probably the best option. anyway let her be gay

ok thats it the essay is done. i probably forgot stuff but ill just talk about it later. again this is just my headcanon, u might interpret her different to me and thats fine! the whole point of her story is we dont know that much about what shes really like so theres a lot thats just up to personal opinion.

if for some ungodly reason u read all of this then why??? (i just checked its at like a thousand words wtf) but also tysm i probably wont have children but if i do u are now entitled to my firstborn.

this is too long im going to stop talking now bye

#ill probably write fanfiction about this at some point #i think about it a lot #i have very little motivation rn and i have like five other things i want to write #but ill probably do it eventually #tma #the magnus archives #tma headcanon #agnes montague #web!agnes #agnesblogging #the web #cw suicide mention

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corvicarum · 7 months

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so i like mixing up pc, and lor lore for darkin & shurima. it melds so well, and makes the story more cohesive than it felt before. and im not sure but i think that riot may have confirmed a lot of this to be canon anyway? eh, here we go:

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍

a REALLY long time ago, the kingdom of shurima was at it's prime. they had this really cool sun disc, that could concentrate celestial power- and pour it into a single individual. creating what we know as the ascended. these were very powerful humans who shared features with animals. i.e nasus( jackal ), and renekton( crocodile ), and many more. this was the golden army, and-- as any nation might do when they have an all powerful army-- shurima sought to expand. and they did so under the rule of an ascendant emperor named azir.

so there was also this rlly cool nation called icathia, led by the mage king axamuk. he was as you can assume, not eager to give up. unfortunately, icathia didn't stand much of a chance against shurima. and so as a last resort; they used their magic to rip open a portal to the void. a place devoid( haha ) of all reason, all time, all space. what they didn't know, was that the voidborn would destroy EVERYTHING they touched. and so not only did shurima suffer losses, but so did icathia. and only when the land was desolate and barren-- did shurima retreat.

unfortunately, there are consequences for interacting at all with anything from the void. the ascendants who's minds were touched by the creatures would begin to go mad. threatening to turn on one another. and in a grim twist of fate, azir would be killed by one of his kin. leaving the maddening ascended on their own without any leader to guide them. enter: zolani

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍

zolani was an ascendant, who began to delve into blood magic. and found a way to use this blood magic to fix everything. this is kind of where it goes into headcanons and stuff ig people found through LoR? im just theorizing based on what i've read from various content / people's thoughts.

zolani gave other ascendants blood magic? promising that the magic would give them a great deal of power. the blood magic of course did change their forms and appearances to what we recognize now as general darkin biology. and did in fact, make them stronger. but what they didn't know, was that due to zolani's vast knowledge, and her being the source of this magic-- she could? control them?? and what was seen as a gift, turned out to be a curse.

in truth, she wanted to use the magic she gave them, to control them. which would have stopped them from trying to kill one another,

in a way i guess? this makes her an anti hero? definitely relatively good intentions done in a really fucked up way. which backfire, because they find out her aim, and mark her a traitor. so now you have a bunch of insane ascended god warriors, each one infused with VERY powerful blood magic. BIG OOF.

and BAM! thus begins the darkin war.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑

the darkin war nearly destroyed the world, and actually ruined parts of pretty much every continent in runterra. eventually, the aspect of twilight, came from the heavens to do something about it. creating a special weapon( the chalicar )that could harness moonlight and use it against the darkin. we know this aspect at current, as zoe. but at this time her name was myisha.

the way it worked i think is p vague. but in short: using the chalicar, they could seal the souls of these darkin into their own weapons. not killing them, as they were nigh impossible to kill-- but trapping them. of course one aspect could not do this on her own. so thats where everyone kind of comes in! with this gift, mortal races could finally fight back against the darkin.

the method wasn't perfect though. as sealing them worked fine, up until a mortal creature touches the blade. see, when a celestial creates these weapons they are very powerful. but when a mortal makes them, they're not quite as efficient. so while the darkin were in fact gone for the moment. the darkin curse was born, and now anyone who wields these weapons-- will become new physical vessels for these darkin to return to the world in.

and to make matters worse, the weapons are unbreakable.

it's interesting too, because it implies also that none of the darkin we see in game at current- are what they originally looked like. aatrox, rhaast, naafiri, to name a few, did look a bit different back int he day. and their current forms are a mesh of their new host body and their own original form.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘

again. the few darkin we know about have hosts. some of the hosts have melded perfectly with their darkin. some were overtaken entirely, and in the case of kayn, he fights his parasite. and actually manages to keep his influence under as much control as he can manage. all things considered.

zolani's influence is also still kind of seen? i haven't looked a whole lot into vladimir, but i do recall hearing he has ties to the darkin as well.

#𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂. / league lore #my HANDS HHHHH #but there it is #everything i know about the darkin

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shotforfavor · 2 years

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assigning a mychem song to each tma entity :o)

i dont have anything for dark and buried. umm. also i dont know how to put a cut in a post sorry

corruption- demolition lovers. the relationship isnt good for either of them, but hes still willing to die for her ("im trying to let you know just how much you mean to me, after all the things we put each other through") all of his expressions of love for her are violent in nature ("id end my days with you in a hail of bullets" "you're the only one, like a bed of roses theres a dozen reasons in this gun") their love is built on violence, its hurting both of them, yet he still wants to die with her to prove his love and devotion to her

desolation- early sunsets over monroeville. life is perfect, him and his lover are on a mall date, feels like a movie. ("then holding hands and life was perfect") then it all comes crumbling down out of nowhere when a zombie outbreak kinda thing happens and said lover is bit. ("not knowing you'd change from just one bite, i fought them all off just to hold you close") he can't exactly leave the mall he's hiding in, ("trapped in by all these mountains") and now he has to kill the one good thing he has left. then he's just defeated. he has nothing else worth living for. "but does anything matter if you're already dead?"

end- the end. obvz. "when i grow up i want to be nothing at all" most of the song to me is him expressing he wants to die/he knows hes going to, and he takes it very casually, buttttt the very end of the song... "save me, get me the hell out of here, save me, too young to die my dear, you cant take me" hes afraid of death when actually facing it

extinction- scarecrow. this ones about a nuclear bomb and trying to run from your death and look at things positively even though you know everyones going to die. but theres kind of an acceptance at the end- "love wont stop this bomb, run, run, bunny, run" after this point, the only lyrics are saying to run and hide. no more "i'll keep you safe tonight", no more romanticism that makes the destruction sound poetic and almost beautiful. just running and hiding and hoping someone makes it out alive

eye- teenagers. me personally i think this one fits. "because they sleep with a gun and keep an eye on you, son, so they can watch all the things you do" he feels like he's constantly being watched by the adults in his life, and they're just waiting for him to make one wrong move that they can use to justify calling him a bad person. he stands out, his classmates make fun of him and spread rumors about him. in the context of the song, the lyrics are all rebelling against all of this, but on their own, they sound very paranoid about what others think of them

flesh- cancer. i think this one works, the patient expresses a lot of hatred for what his body is becoming due to the disease in verse 2 especially. "turn away, cause im awful just to see" its got the aspects of insecurity and physical change out of ones control characteristic of the flesh.

hunt- vampires will never hurt you. this one isnt really a fear of being prey, but rather his fear of becoming the hunter. "can you stake my heart?" "i'll never let them hurt you, i promise" he feels that his vampirism is a different side of him completely, one thats out of his control. he'd rather be killed now than lose control and make his loved ones his prey.

lonely- ghost of you. he lost someone important, and he can't stop thinking about it and replaying their memories in his head because he doesn't want to forget them, but dwelling is only making him miss them more. ("if i died, we'd be together now, i can't always just forget her") he just replays her death over and over in his head, constantly reminded that he's now alone. ("i remember now, at the top of my lungs in my arms, she dies" "all the things that you never ever told me, all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me, never coming home, never coming home")

slaughter- mama. i mean its literally about a soldier who did awful things during a war and his mother can't help but hate him for it. "but there's shit that i've done with this fuck of a gun, you would cry out your eyes all along" he acknowledges that he fought his hardest because he thought he'd die at war ("so raise your glass high, for tomorrow we die") and his mother would be even more terrified of him than she already is if she knew the full extent of it. the song even ends with her sobbing

spiral- drowning lessons. after the death of his lover, he is haunted by a manifestation of his guilt that takes her form and makes him relive the day over and over again ("lets say goodbye a hundredth time and then tomorrow, we'll do it again"). he desperately wants it to go away but his own mind wont leave him be ("without a sound, i wish you away" "i adore every inch of sanity, all im asking for"). a lot of things in the song also sound like hes experiencing visions of her death, twisted by his brain- describing her as a "twisted shell" and saying "these hands, stained red from all the times that ive killed you"

stranger- blood. i dont know this one just really fits to me? "well they encourage your complete cooperation, send you roses when they think you need to smile" "so give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff, give them all that they can drink and it will never be enough" does this not give the image of like weirdly happy all the time doctors who keep doing procedures on you but you dont know like what exactly they're doing ever. also the very fun chipper tone and its contrast with the disturbing lyrics is very stranger core to me

vast- disenchanted. this one might be a stretch? after all his attempts to make life meaningful, he's left thoroughly disappointed. he realizes at the end of his life that everything has all been meaningless. he thinks life itself is overrated.

web- the jetset life is gonna kill you. this ones about drug addiction but the song portrays that as a woman who's controlling his life. "gaze into her killing jar, id sometimes stare for hours" she has him completely trapped and in the palm of her hand. "alright, she wants it all to come down this time"

very much willing to discuss any of these

#the magnus archives #tma #my chemical romance #mcr #mychem #eyetalk #crossover of the century #i just have to combine my hyperfixations or i die #and i love a bit of song lyric analysis

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rjshepofftheshits · 2 years

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More luxu rambelings???

I just can't bring myself to let luxu go from canon BC I just love him sm. I know people want him to just be bad, no redemption arc but my middle name is redemption au so obviously I'm doing one for kingdom hearts

lol i say i love him then proceed to torture him for several paragraphs

I'm in the " people deserve to be able to redeem themselves " and " you are under no obligation to forgive someone for their actions" can and should coexist camp. ive applied this in this au to xemnas, ansem and even Young xehanort ( ill rambel about him later but tldr he doesnt go back to the past at the end of kh3 like hes meant to, a replica of him does purely because i wanted to keep him in the future but ill elaborate on the story reason for it later.)

Post kh4 luxu definitely falls closer to the " no forgiveness" end of that scale. AU Xemnas worked hard and eventually endeared himself to people, even kairi who he kinda got killed. ok maybe hes not totally forgiven, maybe he never will be but he's at least accepted by the majority. Ansem has his own little neich and a casual but friendly relationship with riku, provided he doesnt talk to much. YMX is acting like a kid, finally having the normal youth that was ripped away from him by MOM . Luxu on the other hand just sort of....gives up. He's not su#idal or anything he just sort of stops caring. the norts try to bring him round, show him if they can do it he can too but... He's broken beyond measure, he doesn't have the strength of will to try any more and loses a sense of self/ego. If someone tells him to do something, he does it, if they tell him to go , he leaves without protest. im not even sure hed defend himself if attacked, he probably just stand there and take it or maybe try to run? after going through this nightmare existance for the last 250+ years , for him to be the only forteller left ,for all the misery he caused only for it to mean nothing in the end is soul crushing. needless to say his sense of self-worth is lower than dirt. Luxu really seems to believe he deserves this dogs abuse for what hes done.

I cant imagine how lonely he was before kh4 but now after its all over and hes burned every bridge hes ever walked, hes completly desolate and renounced by everyone. worst part is, its kinda his own fault.

i think he tries to go back to radiant garden, if for no other reason than getting yelled at by people you know is preferable to being compltly abandoned and outcast. he feels a little comfort from being in the castle but the radient garden gang are none to happy to see him. Ienzo is pleasant if short, surprised to see him . the others however are not, ranging from dismissive, rude and cold attitudes from even and Aeleus right up to outright hostile and violent from Dilan. Dilan is normally pretty calm all things considered but when he sees Luxu standing before Lord Ansem, asking for forgiveness and to stay with them for a little its fucking on sight . Aeleus escorts him out before Dilan can REALLY hurt him but not before reminding him he isnt welcome there anymore. He accuses him of just apologising to assuage his guilt and not because he's actually sorry for all the shit he put them through, which isn't untrue but he really is sorry if you would just hear him out for 5 seconds . Understandably Aeleus shuts the door in his face. He might want to apologise but they dont want to or arent ready to hear it and he knows trying to force that on them would do more damage than good .Luxu still hangs around castle town for a few days licking his wounds in both a literal and figurative sense before deciding that the others are right to be angry and gives up on them.

(just imagine that simpsons clip with bart and lisa "you can actually pinpoint the second his heart rips in half")

whats even worse about all this is that i imagine post kh4, luxu has no keyblade. think about it, all the other fortellers have their own keyblades but luxu gets the master of masters old one. its already covered in scratches by the time he gets it so it cant be made from his heart like all other keyblades, it has to be MoM's. and since MoM is gone now in this au, that means his keyblade is gone too. so lets sumarize. luxu has : no friends, no home, no keyblade and no purpose. i imagine he's feeling pretty low

but because im horrible im going to make it worse.

You remember the subplot of maleficent looking for the book of proficies? well after all this she still hasnt found it but she does now know Xigbar is luxu and who luxu really is. So, understandably she decides to ask him a few friendly questions on the subject by which i mean string him up and slash him with vines until he tells her what she wants to hear.

Listen ive been talking consistantly about how broken and at a loss luxu is but if theres one thing to bring back his defiant streak its this bs from maleficent. homeboy has been holding his tongue for nearly 3 centuries, hes not going to break for a dramatic witch and her pet furry.

Frustrated with her lack of success maleficent takes him back to radient garden and threatens to chuck him off a cliff into an abyss or maybe the water treatment turbines. Luxu is still defiant, even weak and bleeding from her interrogation. He doesn't want to die particularly, he's never read the book of profocies but she doesn't know that. if it means fucking with maleficent then he's happy to go and nip her dumb plans in the bud.

now in my little headcanon its my oc shep whos looking out for him. she has a similar backstory, being burdened with a great task, much older than her physical appearance would suggest so she feels a little kinship with luxu, despite how he's hurt her but for the sake of keeping this somewhat canon compliant so other people can enjoy it lets say dilan takes her place.

Sorry to the luxu stans out there I'm just whumping this man for his life.

Just when it seems like she's about have Pete fling him over the edge something bonks Pete in the head and clatters to the floor. Luxu might be weak from injury or bloodloss but he's not stupid, he might have to crawl but he's getting away from these assholes, kicking Pete in the shins for good measure. Absolutely no prizes for guessing who it is that's come to rescue him.

The radiant garden gang cannot stand maleficent. Ok they gave up their hearts but SHE was the one to drag radiant garden into the darkness, squatting in their home like a frog for 10 years. Dilan is still mad as hell but he's also not just about to sit there and let that arrogant witch have her way. They can't beat her, not even with the 5 of them but thankfully she's not looking for a fight. She and Pete retreat for now, promising to come back for luxu and some answers. Even Even takes that shit personally and is ready to throw hands with her if she ever comes back. Luxu is just sort of sat in stunned silence even as he's ushered into the castle to have his wounds treated.

Things are a little bit tense but they can't exactly leave luxu to die from infection or exposure. Until someone makes a joke Like " damn even didn't know you had it in you" followed by some bravado from a usually fairly risk adversed Even, and a little alughter all round. Even Dilan has a small smile and for maybe just a moment everything feels normal again for luxu like maybe there's a little hope after all.

on that topic i think i will call this the golden au after Kintsugi, the art of repairing broken things with gold. It's not the same as before but the breaks are part of its beauty

There's a quote I'm fond of that is "

You don't need another Human Being to make your life complete, but let's be honest. Having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn't see them as disasters In your soul, but cracks to put their love into, Is the most calming thing In this World." And damn if luxu doesnt appreciate having a little love poured into his cuts...even if it is followed by stinging antiseptic and some admonishing words.

#shut up shepherd #kingdom hearts #luxu #xigbar #xigbar headcanons #luxu headcanons #kh headcanons #kingdom hearts headcanons #kingdom hearts 4 #dilan #xaldin #aeleus #lexaeus #ienzo #zexion #braig #even #vexen #maleficent

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secund4 · 6 months

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a lot of times i feel stupid and ashamed to post. i feel like there’s always an invisible audience on the other side of the post button and clicking it only opens myself up for criticism ( aka being told that nothing i ever do is just good in accordance to my brain ). i know criticism is healthy and necessary, but to someone like me who has felt like they’ve been hunted for sport all their life and is finally taking a decent shot at discovering to be a person and rekindle their interests- it feels like the piercing of a bullet because there it is. there’s the reason i never took an honest shot at anything. amongst an overflowing swirling sea of love and positivity and light i will find the one off colored speckle of sand amongst the rest and my psyche will use that as ammunition to beat me into submission and keep me bored and wishing i could just act. im so deeply ashamed and embarrassed of myself and my thoughts and my body and i was made to be this way. i wasn’t always this way. i used to be so loud. i used to be so happy. i was a fountain of information and words and interests and ambitions. i wanted to be a vet. i loved animals so i wanted to be a doctor for them. ive always devoted my time and attention towards helping and healing. so why is it that i myself am so sick? i feel like a wilted flower in the most literal sense. i feel my brain thump and thud in my skull half the time. my hair falls out in clumps as i run my fingers through it. my stomach is nauseated from the moment i wake up until i sleep. and food sometimes but rarely helps. but i am so hungry. im sitting here even now thinking about this for too long and im talking myself out of expressing myself. don’t make such a fuss. don’t write it out so it doesn’t become real. stop whining, you look stupid. what do you have to be sad for really? i guess i have a lot of reasons, and whenever i tell others theyll tell me they dont even know how im still alive. or they silently nod their heads and rub my back because they have no idea how to respond to most of the shit ive been through. but it still feels.. like artificial pain. i know it was all real, but i feel like an attentionwhore for getting attention about it and liking it. what else could you expect from a neglected abused child ? they want attention. they want love. i want love. i have love. but it never feels like enough. and my hunger for it makes me ashamed. why should i have to hold the burden of not only experiencing how miserable it is to always have a hungry void in your heart, taking and taking and taking and yet never becoming any less ravenous, but also having to deal with the consequences of the responses the people that were supposed to nurture and raise me put on to me? they set me up for failiure from the cery start and here i am. in the trash and desolation that they left me. left alone and confused and vilnerable to look throigh the rubble and try to rebuild what i can, watch the unsalvageable parts of me die, and have to first get myself to a clean slate before i can even start pouring the concrete that will allow the foundation of myself as a human ti stand on stably. im losing my mind. i feel like im falling apart. its not fair. i wish i could live an easy life. this is hard and tiring work and im not sure how ive managed to pull myself by my own hair through the darkest pits of hell just to still be alive today. i want tomorrow to be the end. but i know ot wont be. i know theres going to have to be a lot more tomorrows for it to be the end, and that i have to continue to fight and fight harder through all those days to get to the end. i wish i didnt have to fight for my life just for some peace and comfort and space to be myself. i, as a cuban immigrant, never thought my lofe would get this difficult. but it has proven me wrong time and time again. it Does get worse, and it has. but it also Does get better. i can only hold on, keep tryong, and hope that it starts getting better again soon, and that the outcome will be worth all of this.

i hope we get a cat and a puppy and that i properly learn how to crochet. i want to learn how to skateboard and rollerskate. i want to read more and write more and go to parks to do it. i want to cook meals in my kitchen and get my girlfriend flowers and edibles to surprise her with after work. i want to make friends and build community. i want ti make a difference in my life and the lives of others around me. i want to be seen and known and loved and held as sacred and protected. but i feel like i have been set up with parental controls and now that ive left them i don’t have the passcodes to get in and turn them off. i have so many fake invisible walls and locks in my mind that i give full control to. they do not exist. they are not real. but yet they control me. all i can do is push forward and remember that tomorrow will bring me a whole day closer to my peace. i remember seeing a post on here where someone said they’d bake a pie when everything turned okay for them. im not sure what i’ll do. i suppose i will know the best way to celebrate the end of my long and hard journey once im in the end of it

#come back when it changes #novisoulposting ✴️

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anothergoddamistery · 1 year

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so, i dont really know how tumblr works so I kinda hope this doesn't show up on anyone's feed, but I've decided that I'm using this like kind of a way to keep track of whatever is happening to my silly little paranormal crew. For the record, I'm currently on ep 94, so a lot has happened already but there's still a long way ahead.

Please, if someone somehow reads this, don't tell me anything about being right or wrong, I want to keep listening and see it by myself <3

Right now I know that there are this entities, gods or whatever involved and as far as know the monsters/entities/avatars belong to one of them?

The Eye (Elias, John, The Magnus Institute?)

The Beholding (my friend told me that the Eye and the Beholding aren't quite the same but they go together somehow?)

The Desolation (The Lighless Flame, Jude Perry, Agnes)

The Vast (Michael Crew, the Fairchilds?)

The End (Georgie's statement)

The Corruption (Jane Prentiss)

The Distortion (Michael)

The Stranger (The Unknowing ritual?)

Don't really know where to fit the Leitner books in here...

More stuff:

As Georgie pointed out in ep 93 (i think?): why did Elias (or the Eye) choose John as the Archivist? Why was he special? And why did they need to replace Gertrude? As far as I know she was doing quite well, right? She was getting closer to stopping the ritual John is supposed to stop, then why kill her? What was she doing "wrong"?

And besides, the creatures such as Jude Perry seemed quite happy to see her gone, but they don't have such reservations with John (yet). What was Gertrude doing? Let's not forget about that statement of the ritual that was most likely pulled up by the Lightless flame (ep 37)

Another question I'd like to answer:

What the fuck is inside the Do Not Open coffin? Is one of my fav episodes and it's still so unclear what the heck was that

I maybe tend to get caught on stupid details but after Jude Perry's statement I can't stop thinking about Tom (NotSasha's bf) who worked on a wax museum... like???? that's so specific

The Circus.... i know it's going to be so fucking bad but I need, crave, beg for answers. Does the Calliope turn people into muppets or smth?

The moving company or whatever that is (Breekon and Hope)... what is wrong with them, who are they. Btw there being more than one character with the same name is something that has happened before (I spent like a good amount of episodes thinking that there was only one Michael) but... one of the guys carrying the coffin was named Tom (ep 60)..................... [probably doesn't mean anything but still... weird]

Where is Gerard Keay I miss him

Daisy is giving not human ngl but idk

Elias is also giving not human. Like who is that man?? Who put him in charge???

Why does the recorder keep starting on by itself, that creepy old thing. I can't help but imagine the Eye or Elias or whatever it is listening to the recordings in real life and giggling, like dude give these people a little of privacy I don't think it's too much to ask.

Out of the people who disappeared in the fish market (ep 1) two have been already mentioned (if I didn't miss anyone). I'm pretty sure there were 6 people missing?

Im looking at the episode list and trying to remember things at this point

Ep 13: I think the Lukas family was also one of the families mentioned more than once.

Ep 18: what the fuck was that why did this man need so much meat

Are ep 27 and ep 85 related?

Ep 29 Cheating Death, so many questions in general

Ep 30 (Killing Floor) and ep 72 (Takeaway) are related, but I can't really fit them with any entity?

Ep 33 about the ship called the Tundra... feels like... unfinished

Ep 36 I know the guy from the Care Home was mentioned on another ep, can't remember on which one, tho

Ep 52 why did Maxwell Rayner visit Montauk on prison

Ep 58 how did the institute get this statement I'm so confused

Ep 59 why was Anges on that house, why did she help Ronald Sinclair. The table seems to be tied to the creature that replaces people (cause somehow notSasha was tied to it). Does that mean that the owner of the teenage home was a NotSomeone?

Ep 68 not really about the statement but I found it interesting that the institute statements were leaked in 1999.

Ep 74 weird, i don't understand why Michael is there

Ep 87 i was so confused about this one but the man giving the statement is such a legend, i think he deserves the best

Ep 90 just... what

Ep 92 why does Elias have a bunch of bones that are like 200 years old on his office, that's fucking weird, what a weirdo i don't like him. Also /Mordechai Lukas/

Im forgetting so many things i just know

There's also another thing that i don't really know where to fit: The cult of the divine host. They are gone since the section or division 31 idk how it is called (a c a b) interrupted the weird ritual. I have thoughts about them, but my thoughts are too complicated to write since Im stupid and i keep on writing on english instead of one of my first languages. Maxwell Rayner, Im keeping an eye on you.

#magnus notes

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lustbile · 3 years

Text

To Provoke

Incubus!HaechanxReader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: dom-ish haechan, semi public (alley way), oral&fingering, biting, blood consumption, & can maybe be interpreted as degrading but not really

notes: a resounding thank you to whoever gave haechan curls and horns im in love with you nct stylist person. I wrote this all today and it made me stupid so I will try to go through and do more editing. Also not that I think anyone would, but I made the edit for this, horns and all, and im asking politely no one repost it, i know it’s not the most extravagant edit but im asking u pls.

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You were trying to provoke him.

You were always trying to provoke him.

Everything you did, every move, blink, sigh, and turn was an attempt to pull him from the shadows.

To admit you’re addicted to him is embarrassing, degrading even, especially with the way it fills his chest and wild eyes with hunger and pride. His ego was one thing that never needed to grow, big enough to fill every nook and cranny of the universe, but something about the way your pretty eyes would glitter at him in awe pushed it over the edge in free fall.

The outfit you chose to wear was maybe a bit too revealing for the weather, the nipping cold dancing along your shoulders and thighs in a way that makes your stomach clench and your teeth chatter. But it was the same outfit you had worn on the night you had met him, the outfit that his greedy fingers tugged and pulled on to get access to your skin, and it still had the smallest of tears in the seem from his impatience that night.

But it got you attention, and that's what mattered in the end.

He had always had a jealous streak, something he’d deny sharply if you had the nerve to accuse him, but that didn’t change the fact that some of your best nights with him were spent after he showed up to remind you that your body and skin were for him only. And that jealousy was the exact thing you needed to get him to show his face again.

It had been far too long since you had felt him last. You had no clue where he could have possibly ran off to for such a long time, but that didn’t stop the fire that was building in your belly. And no matter how many times you tried, your own wandering hands were never enough to quench your body’s thirst like he could.

The man you spoke to at the club meant less than nothing to you, even when you felt his growing excitement pressing against your back when you agreed to dance with him. The sloppy kisses you allowed him to press against the skin of your neck felt no different than just air as your mind was too distracted by the man that had taken ownership of your heart and soul so long ago, regardless of his absence.

It didn’t feel long before the lights became too bright, the alcohol that sloshed in your cup too bitter for your tongue, and the smell of the strange man too stale and unfamiliar. But when you pushed away from his chest and checked the time on your phone, while you ignored his grumbled complaints of you being a tease, you saw that it was only a handful of minutes past midnight.

You had stayed out much longer than that before, much later in fact and with glee, but something in your chest, a heavy and daunting weight, was pulling you towards the entrance on unsteady feet and a taunting disappointment on your shoulders.

Your mind still felt muggy even after you broke away from the stuffy environment of the building, but you brushed it off as a combination of the minimal alcohol you’d consumed and the angry unsatisfied monster that had made home in your gut.

You had enough of a head on your shoulders to scan your purse for your pepper spray and pocket knife before you decided that maybe the short walk home would help clear your mind and disappointment. It was still cold, your icy fingertips begging for a uber or cab instead, but you were hoping the biting chill would help calm down whatever lustful beast you had become because of a man you couldn't even contact.

Your legs felt too heavy to carry with every step you took, your neck feeling like your necklaces were made from tons of lead instead of whatever cheap metal the random online store you had ordered them from used. You were grateful that the only company you had on the back streets you had chosen to take were the flickering street lamps and the skittering rats you could hear in each alley you passed.

You could almost taste the relief of the cheap bottles of wine you had stashed in your kitchen paired with a trashy netflix horror film when you turned onto your street, your apartment building somehow looking inviting with its old brick and foggy windows as it sat on the corner. The only thing stopping you from kicking off your heels and making a run for it being the memory of one of your less than polite neighbors dropping a large glass vase and not feeling any need to pick up the broken pieces before leaving for the day.

Instead you grit your teeth to help bear the pinching of your shoes, and break into a quick and awkward jog down the desolate stretch of sidewalk. Your eyes watering as you're met with icy air.

Peace and warmth and cheap familiar alcohol is only a few strides away when you hear it. To anyone else in the city it would have been no different than the sounds of an everyday creature scavenging in the trash for food, but you had lived here long enough to know what's a rat or raccoon or, in this case, a cat.

It was a stray you had befriended long ago, one that could climb and duck into your conveniently opened balcony door for a bowl of food and a scratch behind the ears. It was just a sweet little boy that was grey and covered with scratches and scars, but due to a no pet policy had to be kept labeled as a stray and a secret to your landlord.

You huff in frustration, assuming he would have been curled up on your couch when you returned home and not chasing rats in the alley next to your building, but he had always been mischievous from the day you met him. So with the hope that you could block his image from the security cameras, you turn and head into the dim light of the small alley.

You had lovingly dubbed him Oscar when you came home more than once to your trash can tipped over and learned he had a special love for garbage, and that name along with some weird chattering cooing left you mouth as you tried to coax him from whatever trash can he was creating chaos within.

Your teeth were already gritted and you back stiff as the playful feline found enjoyment in jumping out and scaring you in times like this and you assumed this time would be no different as his evilness seemed to only raise as it got deeper and deeper into the night. So you were already mentally prepared for an attack from an overly excited ball of fur, what you weren’t prepared for was a voice.

“What are you doing out so late?” the voice was gruff and slightly accusatory and made you all but jump completely out of your skin. And as you whip around in circles to try to find the face that the words feel from, you see your love and joy Oscar jump from the tallest trash can and scale the fire escape up to scramble back into your home like a guilty teenager that was caught by their mother.

“I asked you a question,” this time the words were followed by strong hands gripping your shoulders and a shrill yelp escaping your throat.

Your hand was pushing into your purse for at least one of your weapons as you squat to get out of the person's hold and turn to see their face, the grinning and prideful boy behind you washes you with a wave of relief before stabbing at you with annoyance.

“Haechan, what the fuck,” you whisper harshly as you pull your hand from your purse and stand up straight, your now free hand now moving to jab a rough finger into the dip of his chest, “how many times? How many times have I told you to not fucking sneak up on me like that. I know the pepper spray can’t hurt you and a stab wound would heal in like five minutes but that doesn’t mean I want to stab you, idiot.”

“Why not?” his head jerks back as if you said something dumb like the sky wasn’t actually blue or he wasn’t really the sexiest man to live, something that just has no logic behind it in the slightest, “like you said it would heal so maybe we could try, might be kinda hot.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing you roughly by the waist, his other hand wrapping gently around your neck before he pushes you against the rough brick behind you, the permanent evil glimmer in his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Do you ever get tired of being an absolute freak?” you thinly veiled insult doesn’t pack as much of a punch as you had maybe hoped, but when he begins to mouth at the skin of your jaw and cheek you can’t really find it within yourself to care.

“Well isn’t that why you like me?” he asks rhetorically as he starts to nip light bruises in the spots that blur your vision, “freaky me must be your favorite, because otherwise you wouldn’t be dressed the way you are.”

He’s no wrong, not even in the slightest, but the confident way in which he says it is enough to make you want to lie, “wanting you and liking you are two different things, no one ever said I liked you.”

“Oh but you want me,” the way in which he takes everything you say in strides without even batting an eye is bit infuriating, but the way his fingers tighten against your neck and push into your jugular is enough to make you melt against him, “that’s what you said so for once that’s not me putting words into your pretty little mouth. But don’t say you don’t like me, that’s a dirty lie and we both know it.”

“You don’t like when I lie?” you pout at him, trying to pull more and more reactions from him, “but some of your favorite things I say are lies, like how big you are and how well you fuc-“

“Alright that’s enough of you,” he interrupts, his fist tightening that much more and his other slipping from your waist to reach under the hem of your dress, a satisfied growl and his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek being his reaction when he realizes the underwear he was grabbing for wasn’t there, “I’ve had to watch you prance around all night, letting a low down dog of a man touch you. And for what? My attention? Baby, you already have my attention.”

Your words stutter violently, the only sounds coming from your throat are whines and gasps as his fingers slip between your thighs and glide against the dampened skin, never staying on your clit long enough to give you the pleasure you need but enough to make you squirm.

“You were watching me?” you finally gasp out, before it clicks in your brain how dumb of a question it was. He told you a long time ago that he always will keep an eye on you, and knowing what he is and the things he can do, you had no reason to not believe him.

“I always am my pretty baby,” he coos before pressing teasing kisses to your open mouth, seemingly tasting and feeding off of every little noise that slips out, “and it hurts to see you let such a nasty man touch you where only I should. You didn’t even notice him following you out of that trashy club did you, silly thing?”

You jerk back as much as you can with the way he holds you, eyes widening at the news that you were apparently being followed without your knowledge. Every emotion that swims in your brain feels like its fighting for dominance, but with the way he chooses to dip his middle and ring fingers just barely past your entrance you’re struggling to cling to just one.

“God, you are so lucky to have me aren’t you? Who else would take care of creeps and make you feel good hm?” he tilts his head as he speaks, his breath warm against the side of your face before his tongue dips to lick at the shell of your ear, “no one can make you feel the way I do can they?”

“No,” you finally answer after a moment, the word coming out as an airy breath as his fingers finally sink in all the way. He wastes no time before curling them and pressing at the spot that makes your knees buckle, “please Haechan, need you so bad.”

“Oh is that one of those infamous lies of yours you were talking about?” he pulls away slightly, but shows no interest in slowing the motions of his hand, “well it can’t be can it? I can always tell you know? Can hear the way your heart picks up when you lie, much different than the way it does when you’re about to come for me.”

His wrist starts to move faster, the heel of his hand finally pressing and rubbing against your clit as the muscles of his forearm start to strain. The telling signs of your orgasm feel too sudden, too fast, and with his hand still constricting the blood that tries to flow to your head all you can do is let your eyes roll as your breathing comes out as small puffs.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” you can only let out a pathetic cry when he pulls his hand away from you suddenly, your lack of oxygen being the only thing stopping you from letting out a scream loud enough for the whole block to hear as he denies you of any stimulation. All you can do is let out incoherent babbling and whines as your hands reach up to dig your nails into the leather jacket protecting his forearms.

He releases your neck, your skin burning from the friction and the sudden amount of oxygen and blood returning to your head making you dizzy. And while your eyes roll as they try to refocus and your heart rate begins to slow to normal, he grabs your wrists and pushes your weakened form to be flush against the wall thats scrapes against your exposed skin.

“You are by far the best thing ive ever tasted,” he mutters, not concerned with whether you heard him or not, before his mouth latches to the side of your neck. He seems to find the most interest in the finger prints he left behind, as he pulls the tender skin between his sharp teeth and works to create a bruise that won’t leave you for another week.

Regardless of denying you a proper release, he considers himself to still be a generous guy. As his tongue lays flat against the burning skin of your neck, he starts to kick at your feet until your clumsy legs are falling apart wide enough for him to press his thigh against your skin, and in the exact way he predicted, you can’t help but to begin grinding helplessly against him.

One of the main reasons the dress that you currently wear is one of his favorites, is the neckline. Low enough to show the expanse of your chest and just enough of your cleavage to make him salivate. He’s as transparent as glass with this love, especially as he mouth travels down between your collarbones and sternum.

You can hear a quiet pop in the fabric of the neckline when he bites down and begins to pull it with him as he sinks down to the floor, the huff you let out being both in frustration from him further ruining a nice dress and your impatience.

The straps dig harshly into the skin of your shoulders before they give and fall, the sudden lack of support making it easier for Haechan to take the fabric and expose your chest to the cold air.

The look in his eyes when you look down is mean and predatory, you fear one day he’ll snap and consume you whole, but for today he settles for wrapping his swollen lips around your nipple and sucking harshly.

Your hips quicken involuntary, broken moans filling the empty alley as you twitch and squirm in his hold. He seems to grow irritated at your impatience as he shoves your wrists back harshly, his knuckles audibly scraping against the brick.

“You can never be patient to save your life,” his head tilts forward and he presses his forehead against your sternum with a huff before he’s leaning back up to press a sloppy kiss against your panting mouth, “you’re lucky I missed you so much or otherwise you’d be in for a lot longer of a night.”

He keeps your wrists trapped in his hold as he moves to kneel on the ground, the rough and dirtied pavement doing nothing to help the tears that already litter his jeans.

You feel your face flush when he lets go of one wrist and uses his newly freed hand to shove the hem of your dress up and around your hips, and the burning beneath your skin only worsens when he leans forward and breathes deeply with his nose pressed against your pubic bone.

He leans back for a moment, his hand wrapping around the bend of your knee to pull your leg to rest on his shoulder and you feel your shoulder sting from the wall cutting into your skin from him moving you like a doll.

“Haechan,” you whisper his name out with a pout that you hope will get you exactly what you want, but you can only huff and petulantly twitch when he begins nipping and licking at the skin on the insides of your thighs.

His teeth are sharper than most, and he usually airs on the side of caution because he’s aware of this. His bites are gentle for the most part, but when you begin to peak in your feelings of impatience, you can’t help the way your hips begin jerking forwards in search of his tongue.

His palm pushing against your hip is his first warning, a generous one in his opinion, but when the warning seems to fly completely over your pretty little head he has no other choice but to lean forward and sink his teeth into delicate skin at the bend of your thigh.

You cry out for a second before you’re tucking your lip between your teeth. It stings terribly, the skin breaking around his teeth burns but you can’t stop the way you revel in the sharp pain. And at the exact same moment you taste the metallic ting of the blood falling from your bitten lip, you feel the same warm thick liquid drip from the wounds he’s created and straight into his grinning mouth.

More blood falls freely when he pulls his teeth from your flesh, his warm tongue flattening against the injury immediately to catch as much of the liquid as possible.

He laps at it for a moment, savoring as much of the taste of your life source as possible, before he starts at the bottom of the bite mark and drags slowly up.

Once his tongue moves off the wound, he continues across your skin. The moment he hits your labia, you let out a gasp and jerk against him again, your mind completely erasing the fact that the bite was meant to be a punishment for that exact thing.

He seems to have forgotten him wanting you to remain still, as he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest until his licking across your stil swollen bundle of nerves.

He moans as the flavor of your arousal mixes with the still lingering taste of your blood, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making you shiver.

He tilts his head up to smile at you, his eyes shining as he grabs your hands and moving them to thread into his curled hair.

“Why are you shivering?” he asks with a faux concern, his right hand smoothing over your thigh before pushing between your legs to return his fingers to their spot inside of you, immediately pumping and curling them slowly, “are you cold or something? Maybe it’s because you’re in such a skimpy little dress?”

You groan out in annoyance at his playful act, your eyes rolling back but for once not in pleasure. It’s not until he starts to proudly giggle to himself do you exploit the hold you have on the back of his head to push him back to your body.

You fear that being shoved around may be the exact thing Haechan would have wanted, when he happily moans before latching his lips to your clit again, but the pleasure that melts your muscles erases any need to call him out on his deviousness and perverted enjoyment.

He seems happy with your moving hips when they start to move against his waiting face. Your fingers mindlessly and desperately tug at his scalp as your head tilts back and thumps against the wall.

The hand that isn’t pressed deeply inside you slides across your hip, his callused fingers making goosebumps run up your arms as they push into your lower belly.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his fingers as the curl and push apart, your thighs tensing around his bobbing head as he licks and bites gently at your clit. It feels like it’s harder to catch your breath and you know you’re only moments from orgasm.

“Please, please,” you start to stutter the word over and over, praying both that he lets you come and that you’re neighbors are deep enough in sleep to not hear the noises you know will escape you.

You almost cry in relief when you feel his shoulders shift, his face and fingers both pressing deeper from the movement in a way that tells you he has no intention on letting up on your shivering body.

His blunt nails start to scratch into your skin and you can feel his heavy panting breath against your skin every time he begins to lap at you desperately. You can feel your muscles lose even more strength, and your head becoming heavier and dazed as he coaxed you closer and closer to your finish.

Your shoulders twitch up towards your ears and you feel your stomach clench as your back curves, small whines and whimpers leave you as the heel of your foot thumps against the space between his shoulder blades.

You gasp out when you feel it, them. They start as small bumps beneath your palms, and you feel your chest tighten when it clicks what they are.

He’s always had a good hold on controlling them, keeping them hidden so he can wreak havoc without being clocked as something inhuman. They had peaked out a few times, usually in moments like this, but it’s such a rarity that you can’t stop the way your heart begins to thump in your chest.

Out of everything about him, you were obsessed with all of him, but you loved his horns the most. They were small and sharp at the side of his head and the way he looks when they’re poking out amongst his curled hair, and especially when he was grumpy or mad, made you want to jump on him and kiss him all over.

You were so caught up and distracted by them growing to full size directly under your hands you forgot how sharp they were at their tapered ends. The reminder you get is when they sharply down push into your palms like thorns.

You gasp sharply, but the way they curl makes you afraid to pull away. It makes you tremble and flush with embarrassment, but the pain bleeding into your hands is the last straw on your nerves. All you can do is wrap your now bleeding hands around the horns and cry out into the cold air as your erratic hips move across his face.

He groans deeply against you as your nails scrape at the skin that surrounds the base of his horns, the feeling of his and his still moving tongue pushes you through and past your gasping orgasm.

You sign in relief when he finally detaches from your body, his mouth moving up to press your hip and across the space of your stomach the dress reveals. He puts your leg down slowly and he creeps back up your torso, now hyper aware of your wounded hands still stuck on his horns.

“Sorry my love, they’re kinda sharp aren’t they?” he rhetorically asks with a soft but guilty grin. He stays ducked down enough that your hands don’t go too high that they start to slip, and he follows with his own to help you detach them.

“I just keep making my mark on you tonight huh?” he sighs as he stands at full height and brings your still bleeding hands to his face. You grit your teeth and scrunch your nose when he gives you a knowing look that says ‘we both know what I have to do.’

He is quick and gentle when he swipes his tongue across the deep cuts in your hands, not wanting it to sting more than necessary.

A teasing grin fills his face when he looks up to see the tired pout on your face, “just like the one on your leg, there won’t be anything left than a bruise if you just wait like an hour,” he’s sincere in his words, and you know it works, but you still feel all wounded and tired.

“Take me home,” you demand, wrapping your slowly healing hands around his shoulders and leaning until your head rests against his shoulder.

“Hey now,” he contradicts his tone by wrapping his arm around your waist and helping guide you walk to your apartment, “you still have to feed Oscar, and take a shower, and I’m not even full yet so you have to let me play with you until I wear you out.”

His tone is far too genuine and loving for the words he says, and you swat weakly at his chest in annoyance, but all he does in response is a laugh.

#nct smut #haechan smut #nct imagine #nct oneshot #haechan oneshot #haechan imagine #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct fic #nct fanfic

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sunsetserenade · 2 years

Text

!!! the social media pages are mainly about hype!! it’s about views and likes and traction! so don’t worry that a social media page is hyping m*leven right now, they know that’s a large part of their fan base and will get them attention!! keep you’re eyes peeled for the trailer, some of our answers will be there. don’t lose hope!

long post ahead—please continue reading!

i know the other day i made that post where i said my confidence on the possibility of byler being canon fluctuates, but today im feeling hopeful! if byler truly does become canon, it’s obviously going to be shocking and be a surprise—the goal right now may be to build up that shock factor. by hyping up m*leven, that will make it more shocking when it is subverted.

more likely, though, there’s a different reason. it’s like i and others have said—heteronormativity plays a big role in how popular media is marketed. it’s true that m*leven shippers occupy the majority of the fan base. they’re obviously going to appeal to that demographic for now! if they suddenly started hyping byler and ignore m*leven, they’re going to lose people. i hate saying that but it’s true. there’s a lot of homophobia in this fandom, and in fandom culture as a whole, so right now it’s all about the money.

i will of course exercise the possibility that byler doesn’t happen. it’s out there. and if that happens, i will be severely disappointed. i can’t say id be surprised, but just… desolated.

but i really don’t think we’ll be disappointed.

and yes, it’s possible that, say, netflix may try to stop the writers from making byler canon. but that’s why i think byler being canon won’t happen until season 5—the writers are gonna want to milk as much money as they can out of the franchise, for as long as they can, before doing something that is unfortunately seen as daring and may get streaming pulled from various places. that’s a worst-case-scenario type of reaction, but it’s possible.

the Popular Straight Ship will obviously get them more money and attention. but with how much trope subversion the duffers have already done and how much evidence for byler is plainly laid out, i do believe we have a high chance.

the entire story has been planned from the beginning. sure, things have been modified here and there, like bringing el back because the duffers loved mbb’s acting, changing when and how bob was going to die, etc etc… but ultimately they’ve stuck to the main story. i strongly believe they intend to finish it they way they planned to from the beginning.

i will mention this again because i want to emphasize its importance. el wasn’t supposed to live past season 1. if they’ve had the story planned since the beginning, obviously m*leven wasn’t (and won’t be) the endgame relationship.

and keeping that fact in mind—that el was supposed to be dead—that puts a whole new perspective on season 2 and the byler scenes. if el was truly dead, then don’t those scenes look a lot like they have romantic undertones? im not saying that since el’s alive that those undertones are gone. im saying that by bringing el back, the trope subversion that will happen will be monumental. imagine how it will be received by young queer teens and even closeted adults AND straight people when they see the main pairing not be a boy and a girl. yes, it will receive backlash. but the opposite will happen, too. it would open the minds and hearts of so many people. it would be one of the biggest moments talked about in the future regarding the history of popular media tropes. they have the opportunity to do something incredible. i think, and i hope, that they plan to do it.

the main thing we can do right now is wait. it’s painful and excruciating and obnoxious etc etc but we will have our answers in time. we’ll get the trailer soon, and the season will drop not long after. may isn’t that far away.

take what the social media pages post with a grain of salt. there’s nothing wrong with reading into things—that’s what stories are all about, anyway—but don’t lose hope! again, it’s about money, it’s about traction, it’s about views. but that’s temporary. that doesn’t mean our chances are gone.

#today we fight the war on doubt on the side of optimism!#there’s still hope friends! there’s still hope!#i know most of us have experienced disappointment toward queercoded media before #but this feels different! this one feels possible. i believe in this one #maybe im naive. but I’ll wear it like a crown if we’re right #byler

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cosmicjoke · 2 years

Text

Saezuru chap 39-40 observations

So what’s interesting is that we discover at the end of chapter 39 that Doumeki has been keeping tabs on Yashiro through Chestnut. He knows Yashiro runs a casino in Shibuya, and is able to ascertain that it was Yashiro who wrecked the pet shop, based off of what the owner said. It’s why Doumeki is unsurprised when he runs into Yashiro while searching for Kido, versus Yashiro’s obvious shock at seeing Doumeki. I think this lends weight to the notion that Doumeki is only in the yakuza now as a means of staying near Yashiro. It shows that Doumeki, despite being pushed out of Yashiro’s life, never gave up on reuniting with him, though in what way he saw that happening, who can say. This is in pretty stark contrast to Yashiro, who clearly planned on never seeing Doumeki again, as evidenced by him not keeping tabs on Doumeki at all.

Yashiro’s dream about Doumeki is, as has already been discussed endlessly, Im sure, fascinating. He’s forgotten Doumeki’s face, and when he wakes up, we again see the imagery of him covering his right eye, and thinking about how short the human memory is, trying to recall what Doumeki looked like. He still clearly remembers Doumeki, but the imagery here is interesting. I said before that, at the end of chapter 35, Yashiro goes to see Doumeki one last time in the hospital, watching from a distance as he reunites with his family, and we see him cover his right eye. At the beginning of the time skip, Yashiro thinks to himself that Hirata “took my right eye”, before lamenting that he didn’t take the other, and I felt in a lot of ways Yashiro was referring to his life here, wishing Hirata had taken it, that he had died that day, etc... Now here, in the present, when he wakes from his dream, unable to recall Doumeki’s face, but still holding onto the memory of Doumeki and his presence, I think again that Yashio’s lost right eye is symbolic of him having let Doumeki go, errassing him from his life, and trying to errass him from his memory. But because Yashrio still remains “in this world”, because he’s still alive, he still has one eye remaining, which means he can’t fully escape the memory of Doumeki, which causes him a great deal of pain and suffering. Yashiro had wanted to die, knowing he was going to have to let Doumeki go, knowing that ending his own life was the only way to escape what he knew would be the pain of that loss. But because he didn’t die, he’s left with Doumeki’s partial presence in his mind, while having lost his physical presence in his life, leaving Yashiro’s existence desolate and alone. The dream itself also seems symbolic of this, as after running away from Doumeki, Yashiro turns back around to find him gone, and the landscape around him changes into a desert, all the people around him suddenly gone. I think Yashiro’s memory of Doumeki not being fully in tact, being obscured, is also representative of him having let Doumeki go, but also, because Yashiro himself remains living, enduring the consequences of that loss. He hangs on to the memory of Doumeki, while still contending with his physical absence, thus Doumeki appearing only partially to him.

We later see Yashiro standing by the ocean, obviously depressed. Even Nanahara picks up on it, and tells him to stop acting out of character, asking him what’s wrong, and Yashiro tells him he had a bad dream. Yashiro’s depression can be assumed to be related to the again fresh reminder of what he let go, and what he lost in the process. He’s feeling sad and empty, because he dreamed again of Doumeki.

We also see some more parallels here between Yashiro and Doumeki, with Kamiya repeating almost word for word what Yashiro had once said about yakuza being actors, convincing people that they’re something they aren’t. This seems to be exactly what Doumeki is doing himself now, just as Yashiro’s done all his life, playing a part that doesn’t represent at all who he really is. This could also reflect Doumeki’s getting sucked into that lifestyle which Yashiro so wanted to prevent, wherein he’s forced to become something he’s not. That’s of course a theme in this story, and with the yakuza in particular, that existing in that world forces you to bury your true self, and eventually forces you to lose hold of it, and possibly lose your humanity in the process. What’s interesting too is how the girl’s at Kido’s bar tell Yashiro that he doesn’t look at all like a yakuza because of how good looking he is, while they said Doumeki definitely looked like yakuza, because of all the scars on his face. Even as Yashiro struggles to escape that world, Doumeki gets pulled further in.

Yashiro’s deeply melancholic expression after seeing Doumeki, at the end of chapter 40, when he wanders off alone to walk along the ocean, I think reflects his deep sadness at seeing Doumeki and realizing he’s still involved in the world of the yakuza. He recalls right before this the girl’s words at the bar, about the duo that came in the day before looking for Kido, how the first one looked like a typical gangster, and the second one had a face “full of scars. So scary!”. In an instant, Yashiro finds out that what he’d sacrificed four years earlier in an attempt to save Doumeki from this life, has been in vain. Not only is Doumeki still in that world, but given his apperance now, he’s been sucked so deeply into it, there might be no escape. This new found knowledge comes right on the heels of Yashiro’s dream about Doumeki, and the reminder of what he’d lost, and what he’d been left with. Yashiro was already depressed, but it can only have exacerbated that depression, to realize all that self-inflicted suffering on his part has been, essentially, for nothing. Doumeki is, seemingly, a full fledged yakuza now, seemingly incapable of going back to a normal life. When Nanahara calls Yashiro and tells them they’ve caught Kido’s brother at the brigde, and Yashiro comes and finds Doumeki holding Kido’s brother down, he looks at Doumeki’s violence, pressing his hand to the back of Kido’s brother’s neck, and then looks at the scar running along his face, and I think these are representative to Yashiro of Doumeki’s involvement in the yakuza, him being ensconced in that kind of violence and societal disenfranchisment.

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #twittering birds never fly #Yashiro #Doumeki

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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the amount of angst in the post-prison writing you did just gave me massive post-prison dream brainrot and i'm just. sitting here thinking about how sam dealt with the curious looks and glances and having to face what's he's done as a warden. and everyone else's reaction to everything because hey, maybe the prison WAS a torture chamber that nobody deserves to be locked in to be treated like utter trash.

(btw i love your writing and analysis! they give me so much life :DD)

thank you anon!! this universe is ,, Fun ,, im ngl -> have this continuation of it, w/ sapnap and sam!! it’s a bit messy but oh well

(edit: i added these two asks as well bc they fit and i thought it’d be a bit redundant to rewrite this scene lmao -> the implication that dream’s admissions abt exile mightve been the result of ,, torture is. uh. yikes.)

(This one is DARK, please heed the warnings)

TW: PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ABUSE (heavy warning for this one), starvation, toxic relationship, manipulation, references to the prison and exile, c!sam/warden!sam critical, violence, blood, dark themes, emotional distress, child abuse, torture

“Be honest,” Sapnap starts, quiet. “What did you do?”

Sam opens his mouth - hesitates, looks away. He should’ve known that his vague words and half-explanations that had been enough to push away most of the crowd - or at least, postpone the conversation for later - wouldn’t have been nearly enough to convince the man standing in front of him, but a part of him must’ve hoped, anyway. He’s not ready to speak, not ready to admit anything to himself, never mind someone else entirely - but ‘ready’ doesn’t matter, not when Sapnap is right here, waiting.

(He ignores how ‘ready’ didn’t matter for Dream when Sam had gone in, that first time, pick in hand and nothing but questions and rage spinning in an endless cycle in his mind, whirling together into something incomprehensible, insatiable, vicious - he’s not thinking about it.

He can’t think about it.)

“Well?” Sapnap’s voice raises, impatience coloring his tone, and it’s almost enough to draw a chuckle to Sam’s lips - he’d always been a little overeager, not doing well with silence, waiting, even as a kid. It’s part of the reason why he got along with Dream so well, Dream jumping at the chance to spend time with someone that didn’t shut him down for rambling and Sapnap simply excited at the chance to have someone that would join him on his hare-brained schemes instead of dismissing him as a dumb kid- and oh. Right.

The scrunch of his face is the same, Sam realizes, absently, as the expression Sapnap had when he was little; it’s the same crease between his eyebrows, the same slight jut to his bottom lip. Even with a new scar decorating his left jaw and the shadows under his eyes and collection of faint wrinkles belying his stress, he doesn’t look all that different - still looks young, a kid playing dress up in armor too big and too war-torn to belong to him. It’s easy to forget, but even after all the wars they’ve fought, even with all of the combat experience he’s had, Sapnap’s still barely twenty - only a few weeks out of being a teenager.

(He crushes the thought of what that makes Dream - he’s not. Thinking. About. It.)

“Hello? Earth to Sam?” Sapnap snaps his fingers in front of his face, and Sam blinks away the memories, the guilt, boxing it up and filing it neatly away to deal with - later. Never, ideally.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

Only later is now, there’s no escaping this conversation, and Sam. Really doesn’t want to be talking about this, right now. Sapnap fidgets, leaning on his right foot and then his left and then rocking back again - the feeling is mutual, then, but he knows the look in the younger’s eye well enough to know that neither of them are leaving without an explanation leaving Sam’s lips.

(Netherite and iron and smoke, bloodstained pickaxe tipping up a gaunt face, hand reaching around a too-prominent jawline with bruising force - are you going to answer my question, prisoner? Or are we going to have to do this again?

He’s not-

He can’t-)

“I-,” guilt, thick and heavy, circles his throat, chokes the words rising in his mouth. What can he even say? Can words really capture the sweat-slick desperation, the bubbling lava and heat and smoke stealing away all breath and thought, leaving nothing but a humming buzz of rage burning, hissing, begging for release? Can he really describe the endless darkness and weight settling on his shoulders, the hard edges and jagged fear taking anything soft, anything kind? Words swim in the back of his throat, try to reach his teeth, fall short; bloodstained memories haunt the back of his eyelids every time he blinks; there is so much, too much, to say, and yet nothing at all.

How does he even start?

There is no sympathy on Sapnap’s face when Sam looks, but there isn’t any cruelty either, just dark, watching eyes, lips thin and pressed together, jaw clamped shut, tense. Indifference, or a pale imitation of it, meant to hide the mess of his hair, the tremble in his hands, the helpless, desperate thing growing in his pupils. Sam understands and wishes he doesn’t; regrets, and wonders if he has the right, anymore.

“It- started, as an interrogation,” Sam stumbles over his words, stares at his hands because looking at Sapnap’s face will be too much, is too much. “I was angry. The prisoner- Dream- was desperate. That cell-” he shakes his head, remembers obsidian in his hands, remembers tearing away carpet, paintings, plants, remembers leaving the box bareboned, desolate, a cage and nothing more, “It messes with you. Screws with your head. I knew it, he knew it, but I guess we didn’t realize- I guess I didn’t realize-”

(Blood and crunching bone and shrill screams - tell me what you did to him-)

“I needed information. He wasn’t talking. I got- heated, and he laughed, and something- snapped, I guess.”

(I’ll tell you I’m sorry please please sam stop please)

“All I had on me was a pickaxe. He wasn’t talking, I was desperate - angry - I needed to know. I didn’t-”

(I just knew I needed to drag him away, he was ruining everything, he was destroying everything, I just needed him to leave before he brought down the whole damn server with him - the tnt was supposed to be a one time thing)

“It was supposed to be- one time. Was never supposed to happen, at all. But I guess I got mad - for me? For Tommy? I don’t- I don’t know, and it was- easy, you know? Take away the clock, one day. Give him less potatoes the next.”

(It was easy to do it again, I guess, mess with his invitations a little, take some of his stuff. There was nobody around but me and him and he’d ruined so much, he’d messed everything up - I thought that maybe if I took away his armor enough, he wouldn’t be able to go back. He wouldn’t ruin everything.)

“He’d done- so much. He was so awful to Tommy, to everyone- I thought I could prevent that. I thought maybe if I broke him enough, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone again. I renamed the pickaxe Will Breaker, to remind me, to remind him, I don’t know. I-”

Sam laughs, tired, poisonous, ignoring the way Sapnap whispers, stricken, looking at his hands and seeing nothing but red. Dream’s face, bruised, bloody, but glimmering with something almost like satisfaction comes to mind - and oh. Oh.

(Bloodstained teeth twisted in a bitter smile - Sam, I thought I had to.)

He gets it now. He wishes he didn't.

“I thought- ha-” His hand comes up to his face - he’s crying. When did he start crying? ”I thought I had to.”

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dindjarindiaries · 3 years

Text

DIN DJARIN WEEKLY FIC REC #1

This week’s fic rec (January 24th to January 30th) is here! Below the cut, you can find a wide selection of Din Djarin fics to read, whether they’re multi-part, one-shots, drabbles, prompts, or headcanons. I challenge you to provide these writers with feedback if you choose to read their fic!

You can start submitting next week’s fic rec here.

MULTI-PART FICS

Space Cowboy by @punkrock-writer

summary: A Girl is teleported from her hotel room, and dropped onto the floor of the Razor Crest. Chaos ensues as she tries to convince The Mandalorian not to freeze her in carbonite, and do her best to find her place in the endless Void of space.

pairing: Din Djarin x F!oc

warnings/rating: Mature. Canon typical violence. Lots of swearing.

genres: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: Hi this is my first fic, you can find it on AO3 also. I’d really appreciate some feedback or any ideas because I have a hard time figuring out if I’m doing the right thing😂 Thank you for doing this.

Touch by @magicrowiswritingstuff

summary: It seems so unfair that he is able to touch you and send shivers down your spine when you’re not.

pairing: Din Djarin x female!reader

warnings/rating: A bit of violence and injury/blood

genre: fluff

submitter comments: Just wanna say that I really love this idea and am excited to browse through all the recommended stories on Sunday! <3

Ciryc Ca’tra (Cold Night Sky) by @javi-djarins (Ao3: brianmay_be)

summary: When you crash-land on a frozen planet on your way to Trask to find the Frog Lady’s husband and more Mandalorians, you and Din work together to keep the Crest afloat and keep your little family safe.

pairing: Din Djarin x wife!reader

warnings/rating: G

genres: fluff, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: She may be adding an epilogue that contains some smut, but right now all of the chapters are rated G!

Blossom by @dinthisisthe-wayson

summary: Alone. You felt like you had no purpose in such a powerful galaxy, being the bystander is what you felt was the only thing you were good at. But when a warrior with a child extend a helping hand. You take it. Not knowing that you will no longer be alone for the rest of your time in the universe. Not knowing that your place in the galaxy will be much bigger than you expected. And just like any flower, you will blossom. In more ways than one.

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

warnings/rating: Teen and Up, violence and language

genres: angst, fluff

submitter comments: N/A

Narudar by @zapsalis-d

summary: You, an experienced bounty hunter working for the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, have found it difficult to sustain yourself lately, requiring more and more credits after each hunt to be able to buy your basic needs. Yet with so many members of the Guild, high rewards were tough to find. Until you’re given a bounty with the prize being something extremely valuable – beskar. During your hunt, you bump into an old enemy you were just so tired of fighting. On your attempt to finally get rid of him once and for all, he found out a secret you wished he hadn’t and now you don’t have any other choice than to team up with him, whether you like it or not. The both of you thought it would be simple. Deliver the quarry, split the reward between the two, and hopefully never see each other again. Oh, how you were wrong.

pairing: Din djarin x female reader

warnings/rating: Rated t for now (but im not sure if that writer will change that in the future or not)

genres: angst, fluff

submitter comments: N/A

Connection by @beskarhearts

summary: Din Djarin and you were very similar. You both were closed off from everybody and had on masks of your own. But, when the universe brings you and Din together, you form a connection you didn’t know you two could have.

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

warnings/rating: Cursing, family members passing away (think that’s about it so far)

genres: angst, fluff

submitter comments: N/A

Homeward Bound by TheStarvingWriter (Ao3)

summary: After Luke Skywalker takes Grogu, Din Djarin is adrift. He attempts to find solace in his old ways of bounty hunting, but he feels like an imposter—a shell of his former self, roaming around in a suit of beskar that no longer feels like his own. When a visit to Coruscant leads him to a Seer who tells him that Grogu is in danger, however, everything changes. Now, it’s a race to find his kid and return him home, before he truly loses him forever.

pairing: Din Djarin and Grogu (father/son)

warnings/rating: Teen and Up Audiences

genres: angst, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: The writing of this is phenomenal. The way they write Din is fantastic and the angst is insane. There will be eventual reunion and each chapter leaves you wanting more. 158288483/10 recommended!!!

the light of stars by @tiffdawg

summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.

pairing: din djarin x reader

warnings/rating: hurt/comfort, sexism, mild injury, mild language, angst, kissing

genres: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: N/A

ONE-SHOTS

Only for You by @firstofficerwiggles

summary: You like to sing and it ends up bringing you closer to the Mandalorian. Events take place sometime between Seasons 1 and 2. It’s pretty much fluff with a teeny bit of story. Still has plot though :)

pairing: Mandalorian x female reader

warnings/rating: Rated: G, Warnings: None

genre: fluff

submitter comments: I hope you like it!

Getting Through This by Whumptastic (Ao3)

summary: Din has a hard time dealing with Grogu’s leaving, and like a true friend Cara offers support.

pairing: Din and Cara but only as best friends

warnings/rating: none really, lots of crying/sad vibes tho

genre: hurt/comfort

submitter comments: N/A

Fifty Four by @themand0lorian

summary: Reader gets a drunken holo from Din, based on Pedro Pascal's 24 hour play monologue (linked in fic)

pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader (no Y/N)

warnings/rating: E

genres: angst, fluff

submitter comments: N/A

Reassurance by @galaxysgal (Ao3: imjusttheoutgoingsidekick)

summary: You worry about Din and his recklessness during and after the events of Morak and the two of you have a small chat about it.

pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

warnings/rating: PG, major spoilers for The Mandalorian Chapter 15, canon typical violence, near death experience (for Din), some swear words (both sw swears and regular english ones lol)

genres: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: since it's up on tumblr and ao3 i wasnt sure which link/acc name to give so I just gave both :)

ni kar’tayli gar darasuum by @pumpkin-stars

summary: Din was friends with another foundling as a child, they never saw each other’s faces, both shrouded in beskar from everyone. But feelings form from actions and words, not sight. AKA Din gets married to someone equally touchstarved.

pairing: Din/Reader (no pronouns)

warnings/rating: safe for everyone - warnings for (happy) crying, and it's my first attempt at a star wars fic so the finer details might be a bit dodgy

genre: fluff

submitter comments: i love your fics! i'm still new to the fandom but you seem so sweet and this is a really good idea/thing that you're doing! xx

The Vexatious Nine by Balsamique (Ao3)

summary: While searching for more of his kind on the desolate planet of Karth, a blizzard traps the Mandalorian, the child and seven lodgers in an isolated stopover. When one of the lodgers is mysteriously murdered, it’s up to the Mandalorian to catch the killer before they can claim their next victim. But as the storm thickens, so does the mystery — and this isn’t a problem he can shoot his way out of.

pairing: N/A

warnings/rating: General Audiences

genres: Action/Adventure, Murder Mystery

submitter comments: Author's name on Ao3 is Balsamique. On Tumblr it's first-order-media-department.

what happened to you? by @lesbisoka

summary: After the events of Episode 8 (S1), Din returns to Sorgan to recover. Omera finds him in a less than ideal state.

pairing: din djarin x omera

warnings/rating: General Audiences, no archive warnings apply

genre: hurt/comfort

submitter comments: N/A

Sprained by @kesskirata

summary: Rebel spy reader is injured and can’t make her meet up with The Mandalorian

pairing: The Mandalorian x reader

warnings/rating: none

genres: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

submitter comments: N/A

Over the Moon by gobuyastarwars (Ao3)

summary: Din and Grogu travel with Boba Fett and Fennec Shand for a time. The Mandalorian, Boba, Fennec, and Grogu stop to refuel and find an unpromising tourist attraction nearby– an amusement park. Din doesn't want to go into the amusement park, but Boba and Grogu do.

pairing: Din and Grogu

warnings/rating: Gen, no warnings

genre: fluff

submitter comments: N/A

You can start submitting next week’s fic rec here.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian x oc #fic rec #din djarin weekly fic rec

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bunsbunnybitch · 3 years

Text

The Villainnesse

disclaimer: im not very good and you know fbi things, so their work as shown here may be innacurate (so dont kill me pls)

its also sort of a new au i think- since inserted new characters.

- - -

[ The Blacklist x reader ]

7 hours earlier

Cooper's eyes were trained intently on the screen, observing with such scrutiny as he shifted his weight to the other foot, crossing his arms. He ignored the rapid footsteps pacing around the floor, the hushed murmurs and whispers exchanged by the busied agents, only to focus his attention on a particular criminal mastermind.

And that particular criminal mastermind is You.

But here's the exception: you don't have an organization. He thought it was strange at first, that the Bureau would term you a 'criminal mastermind' as such, considering that all the things you do aren't gang criminal related nor mafia criminal related, but rather with the application of theft( you stole government files). However, you did have contacts with notorious criminals, which he presumed is where you mainly get your sources, and you do demonstrate the mindset of a criminal mastermind: a careful planner, cunning and meticulous. They tried to catch you many times, and all of those times they had, always failed. You were inaccessible.

Currently, he was looking at a blurred picture of you, taken just yesterday near a gas station; you were wearing a bob wig, cat-eye glasses, and is dressed in an abnormally pink suit. Cooper's task force had managed to track you down two days ago, leading him to assemble a stakeout operation that led him to you, and hence the blurred taken picture. Then there was your entourage, Nero your Russian butler, Jackson, your muscle, Ares, your bodyguard, and Peirce, a somewhat petite martial artist. It was pretty evident that you were self-aware about being followed, and managed to slip away before they can get to you.

"Stole a handful of documents..." An agent muttered from behind.

Cooper craned his neck to meet the female agent, Ariel Stockham.

"What kind?" He asked, diverting his gaze back to the screen.

She plodded over to his spot, and stood beside him, mimicking his crossed arm gesture. She furrowed her brows, pursing her lips. On her arms were files, mainly documents about you, and with a wave of her hand she spoke:

"Not much, military projects, scientific ones..." She trailed, tossing the records on the table with a sigh. "...ones that are, strictly speaking, primarily funded by the government."

He hummed in contemplation, venturing to connect the dots in his head in an attempt to uncover your next whereabouts.

"Are they still running?" He asked. "The projects?"

"No, sir. Nearly all of them were shut down." She replied, then her eyes slightly widened when a thought passed her mind. "But...but...but..." She held up a finger. "There is one, I think..." She slid into her seat and began typing furiously. "I'm going to get really really techie here, I apologies if so, but uh...there's a program. Not sure if it's a program or a project...not sure if those words are the same thing...and I'm not sure if-"

"Agent, Stockham." Cooper cuts off her rambling with a tight smile. "Please, the files."

She looked up to him, back to the computer, then to the large screen. Rubbing her neck sheepishly, she cleared her throat.

"Yeah, right so uh...here's the issue..." Her fingers resorted to typing again. "There's this project slash program that is way back in '99. Or years before that...it is highly-and when I mean highly- extremely classified. It was shut down years later after its release, mainly because it didn't work so well..."

"I've heard about it too." Ressler stepped in, shrugging as he continued. "It's pretty classified, to say the least, but the program takes volunteered agents or civilians to do tests on them to measure their intelligence. After the tests, they'll start to figure out ways on how to 'up' their capacity to obtain knowledge."

"Like a super-soldier program?" Cooper spoke, and Ressler nodded.

"Something like that."

"It's also termed as the 'method of loci'." She added, waving her finger in the air. "It's a strategy used to enhance a person's memory by utilizing visualization the subjects is familiar with, sorta trapping 'em into their brain so that when they want to use the info they want, it just...comes."

Cooper nodded, absorbing all the information in with a purse of his lips.

She pressed a button and on the screen, a picture was pulled up. Her body visibly relaxed. " The Palace Intelligence program." She finally said. "Labelled as TPI, for short."

It wasn't even a second that a look of confusion flashed upon her face. Her brows crinkled, and her lips turned into a frown. Darting her gaze to the computer, the typing resumed, this time her look became more intense.

"What is it? What's wrong." Ressler asked, going behind to look over her shoulder.

Cooper followed. She glanced at the screen then to her computer.

"That's...odd, it...doesn't make any sense..." She muttered under her breath but raised her voice once Cooper gave her a questioning look. "The files...they...it's still there."

He leaned away, plodding towards the screen, confusion almost evident in his tone. "What are you implying?"

She paused and turned around. "They weren't stolen."

Ressler flinched. "What?"

"It says here..." She motioned over to her computer. "That the files are still there. It's locked in a facility, presumably the Cia or whatever, and there is no report of a missing file that goes by the name of TPI."

"Then, what did she stole?" Ressler pressed.

"My guess?" She leaned casually in her seat, her voice wheezing slightly as she stretched. "The coordinates."

- - -

The cold harsh air swished past her face and Nero tightened the grip on the sniper, clenching her teeth to fight the cold. She was under surveillance while you were left off to plan in your mind palace, a thing she's certainly used to after all those years. She zoomed into the guards by the metallic doors and sighed, standing up to trot over to her master. You were near the tree, murmuring to yourself quietly.

With a collective sigh, she plopped down next to you.

"Master, I do not mean to disrespect," She began, and you perked your ears, half-listening. "But are you sure that this is going to work?"

The rustling of the map stops and you turn to face her. Nero looks certainly tired.

"Oh, don't be so pouty." You mused, patting her shoulder "I assure you, his will work just finely. Count on the teamwork we ensue, the positions we are in and there you have it. Our mission is accomplished. We'll rescue the kids-or since they've grown by now, adults-and pop by Denny's. I heard his steaks are flourishingly delicious. I suppose we could have a try."

Nero sighed again, exasperated by your lack of concern, knowing all well that this isn't you speaking.

"Illian-" She began but realized her mistake.

"It's (Y/n)." You replied calmly, folding the map and tucking it into your vest pocket.

"(Y/n)," She repeated, shifting to crouch over the snow, her look was so serious you had found it almost amusing. Why is she taking this so seriously?

"Have you not taken the drastic measures into account? The lives of the kids if we fail? Whether we are infiltrating a military base and not a technologically advanced laboratory?"

You tilted your head innocently.

"You-" She groaned, sighing heavily rubbing the bridge of her brows. "Did you not realize we have the FBI at our tails? We've left a mark (Y/n), they are going to pursue us."

You nodded, replying calmly. "Yes, I am very well aware of that"

Nero resisted the urge to sigh again. What is it with you being so calm in situations you aren't supposed to be calm in?

"And you are fine with it?" She spoke, her tone evidently incredulous.

You shrugged, smiling.

"What is there to be worried about, Nero?" You said. " I've got in all planned out.

Nero sighed knowingly.

"I suppose you are always right...you always.." Her voice fell into a hushed whisper. "most certainly are..."

---

The crease in his brows turned into a frown.

"Sir, we got a hit." A voice interrupted. "The Villainness's location is located."

"Where?" Cooper asked, and Aries scrambled towards the tech guy.

"Canada sir, Alberta," He replied trailing as he continued typing." somewhere more desolate...near a cabin maybe...and." He pressed a button, and a picture of a building was pulled up on the screen. "It seems to be here somewhere..."

Aries widened her eyes, once again scrambling for her computer.

"Wait I recognize that..." She declared, holding up her hand as if to stop anyone from doing anything. "It's one of the testing sites for TPI."

"Still running?"

"No, sir. Abandoned."

"That's just more confusing." Ressler mused. "What is she hosting? A drug festival?"

Aries snickered, stretching her arms languidly on the chair, relaxed once she realized she's not doing fieldwork.

"Eh, the building's pretty worn down too so..." She shrugged. "She's probably making something."

Cooper ignored the comments made by the two and went down straight to business.

"I want all agents on this." He announced. "Ressler, Yannak, and Bolton,"

The series of heads darted up when their names were called.

"I want all of you to go in, send in a SWAT team. Make sure she gets into cuffs this time."

"Understood" Ressler nodded and jerked his hands to the elevator, signaling the others to go.

Little did they know they would be led into an abyss of confetti and glitter.

No, literally.

[ part 1 ]

#The Blacklist #the blacklist imagines #the blacklist x reader #Harold Cooper #Raymond Reddington #i kinda wanna continue it but too lazy rn

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