#this is your reminder that i can be JUST as remorseless and cruel as you if I so desire~
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idk why my brain is suddenly hung up on torturing dism but i'm here for his fraught and tortured questions :)
#it's rare usually I give his brother this kind of treatment#i dig it immensely though :>#yes i am still hung up on that arc 4 ludonarrative harmonious idea from last week#every time it comes to mind it gets worse :D !!#i mean sometimes I forget that Dism's backstory IS traumatic#much of it I would just classify as my childhood (minus the kidnapping obv)#that I forget it leaves scars to be exploited~#bonus points for the Munchausen Syndrome By Proxy though I didn't even know that counted as abusive until recently#i didn't even know that sort of lie about one's health had a name :O#but it leaves fun angles to play with :P#this is your reminder that i can be JUST as remorseless and cruel as you if I so desire~#also even those few snippets i DID write did so much for my understanding of him#what he's so afraid of :)#it makes me want some of those really difficult psychological questions like I answered for Archie that one time#and not even just for him. I appreciate the challenge for any of them. It shows me how strong their personalities are ^^#just pav things#head children my beloved I deserve you but you don't deserve me ^^;#not that Dolphin would give you better treatment................
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Darknets (◕‸◕ ) -`ღ´- I can't wait to get to the twist parts. Mina you bitch, and she is so remorseless blaming Jaehyun too. Mc should play her cards on Hoseok to piss Jk and Mina off. Though she doesn't know jk not wanting share her and Mina and Hoseok's relationship. Maybe Hoseok would actually come on to her. Will she really be compliant from now on out of fear or was this only for the cam show part? Umm what will they be doing on cam, does he have any limits, is he actually caring about her during it wanting her to enjoy too or just trying to break her? Do you have any visuals on their rooms?
(ˊσ̴̶̷̤ ₋̮̑ σ̴̶̷̤ˋ)₊ෆ˚
Hi babes! ❤️ Thank you so much for reading and sharing all your thoughts 🙏🙏🥰🥰
Ahh yes, Mina is indeed cruel to shift the blame to Jaehyun. Both Jungkook and her really have done some foul things, poor boy. As for Hoseok, it’s tricky isn’t it? The MC does strike as someone who would actually think things through and play a lot of her cards right ( if she manages not to act impulsively again ) I think she may have learned the lesson to possibly plot more because of what Do-yeon told her. Hoseok may possibly try to do something but he also may know it can get ugly with Jungkook so who knows what will end up occurring 👀
Hmm I think she definitely doesn’t want to be compliant and she was acting up a bit because of the fear with the cam show but I think she may try to comply more because she keeps getting reminded of what Do-yeon and Mina have told her. We shall see, she isn’t the best at following orders though haha. As for the cams, they mainly will be sort of ‘performing’ different types of …acts. It depends, a lot of their viewers enjoy more sadistic content such as the girls simply being tied up and crying while they terrorize them, others like more sexual acts, certain fetishes. They’d probably request different “role plays”. It various a lot. I think the only limits Jungkook would have is …not actually causing physical harm or ‘beatings’ . He made it pretty clear he doesn’t “hit” the girls ( even though he contradicts himself by actively abusing/ harassing them in other ways ) We shall see ! I think he’d definitely want her to enjoy it but he also likes pain mixed in there.
This is similar to how I imagine the MC’s room! Just a bit larger and with a different type of door lol. Also no windows obvs.
As for Jungkook’s room. I kinda see it similarly , something like this . A lot of their ‘personal’ rooms tend to have a loft style.
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I think your post about the Todoroki abuse recently really highlights just why each kid is exactly how they are in relation to Enji. Touya became Dabi after being loved and praised and then tossed away when he could no longer embody Enji’s ambitions, so he became obsessed with Enji’s attention and with power as a means to achieve it. Fuyumi was the only child born before Touya’s quirk incompatibility was known, so Enji probably treated her okay as a little child, though his focus was on Touya, but she at least got to experience a brief taste of the happy family she’s now so desperate for. Poor Natsuo was inconsequential from the very moment of his birth, Enji dismissing him on sight, which is absolutely cruel, and it makes sense why Natsuo is the one Enji can’t build a bond with much now, because it never existed. And Shouto… well, he’s been burdened as always being someone’s replacement, shouldering others’ ambitions, at the cost of his individuality. But his resentment at that at least now gives him the chance to be the only one who can relate to Touya and show him that it is possible to step out of Enji’s shadow when someone reaches out a hand to you. It really is such a well written examination on the dynamics of abuse. I don’t understand how anyone can dismiss it as anything other than abuse for all four of these kids, and Rei of course.
I think in the end it comes down still to trauma olympics - people endlessly arguing who "had it worse".
I feel like - ironically - people are hardest on Touya, because there was an era when he was the golden child and they buy into Enji's own narrative about why he dropped Touya so cruelly (it was for his own good, father knows best - kind of arguments), not realizing that by Endeavor's own words, twisting the truth was his own shitty coping mechanism to deal with the guilt and the disappointment for his eugenics project not going the way he wanted.
And hiding Touya's identity in the narrative meant that he was the villain with the least display of emotions or inner works, allowing to build up a narrative where he's just a crazy, remorseless psychopath who doesn't care about anyone.
The Touya reveal and backstory chapters came just on the heels of fandom wrapping its collective head around Endeavor's atonement and efforts to be more decent - so I think many people who have come to root for the character felt relief when Touya wasn't tortured like Shouto - completely missing that he was tortured in a very different, but not less impactful way.
And I think Ch 350 shatters all the narrative that Touya was born evil and never cared about his family - and also is an important reminder that while we did spend now about half of the story with Endeavor trying to change - in perspective, that's still only a few months compared to the YEARS his family was abused.
I've even seen takes now blaming Touya for giving up after returning him instead of kidnapping Shouto and saving his family - somehow managing to miss the point that Touya just woke up from 3 years of coma after a horrible injury, having gone through a traumatic procedure. He's a 13-year-old, stuck in the body of a 16-year-old patched together from dead people's skin... Hori does a good job in my view to draw us into Touya's headspace and I feel like him snapping in that moment is a well-earned story-beat. But people often read only what fits their personal narrative.
Also, people forget that the Todoroki narrative is all entangled relationships. I think we are so used to want to see clear winners and losers and comparative strength levels that we forget that the point of a family is that nobody wins if one of them loses.
I root for the family as a whole (I feel attached to all the characters), and Shouto in particular as my favourite character - and rooting for him to me means that I hope he'll get through to Touya, will help him get out of his narrow-minded hate and I also really hope that Endeavor will finally make the decision he should have made all those years ago and will step up as a father in a way that shows that he values his family not for their quirks, or what they can do for him, but as the valuable individuals they are.
#c1a asks#bnha manga spoilers#bnha 350#keeping up with the todorokis#i can ramble endlessly about this
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I’m Not Okay(But That’s Okay)
Summary: Mun-Yeong accepts Gang-Tae’s harsh rejection and learns about love and life from unexpected friends, meanwhile Gang-Tae starts to realize what he had and tossed away and fights to win back Mun-Yeong’s heart.
Genre: Healing Romance and then smutty smut smut.
Author’s Note: This story started out as a revenge fic because much like my Queen MY I like to get even but then I started thinking, it should be more than just getting back at GT. So this is a story of realizing your worth and learning who you really are, without other’s opinions. Both of our babies realize their worth and find their way back to each other. 11k, my longest one-shot ever. Hope you all enjoy!
Salty tears fell uncontrollably as she held herself, shaking like a leaf in the bitter winter cold. She felt as if someone had scooped her heart out with a jagged spoon, scrapping everything until there was nothing left. She cried, each drop falling and joining the oceans crushing waves. Wondering if this was how the ocean was first formed, the tears of those who had endured unimaginable pain. Weeping for lovers who would never return.
You were like a firecracker to me. A one time event.
Sobbing, she fell to the ground remembering her own harsh words, visceral and acidic on her tongue. She didn’t want to be a bomb, not anymore. She had gotten a taste of what love could be like and it was ambrosia, cloying saccharine on her tongue. With one small press of his lips to hers he had awakened emotions in her that had not only laid dormant, but had been beaten and hardened into something grotesque. He hadn’t healed her, she knew now that she wasn’t broken just a little fractured, a cast had been wrapped around her heart until it was ready to fully beat and pump love, but he had definitely woken up her emotions.
Now, standing on that beach, the wind whistling through the soft strands of her hair, she clutched at her chest, trying to keep her heart from crumbling into pieces, holding so tightly that her fingers burned and ached from the pain.
When no more tears came, and all she had left was gut-wrenching sobs, she finally let go.
Then she started walking, her legs were heavy as if they were filled with lead but she pushed on, each step taking her away from the disaster site. She wondered if she would ever be able to look at the ocean again without feeling like she was drowning in its vastness. What was it about drowning that made you feel so alive?
The cursed castle looms over her and the idea of being here, alone elicits goosebumps all over her skin. The coldness that had smothered her after his remorseless rejection made her bones ache and she saw her body fall to the ground, as if she were an entity outside of herself. Her body too weighty to lift a second time, she viciously pushes back memories of his strong hands picking her up and keeping her balanced. The ocean pours from her eyes.
This is how Sang-In finds her, an empty shell of the woman he knows. Openly weeping on the ground, dirt sticking to her hands and her face ash-fallen, heartache visible in her countenance. Gone was her fire and brimstone and in its stead was ash and soot. She hears the footsteps approaching and hates herself for the seed of hope that starts to bud in her mind.
“Mun-Yeong.... are you okay?” He whispers to her in voice akin to one you would use with a startled animal. Worried, that even the the press of your lips forming around harsh constants will send them bolting. Arms outstretched as if he too, was waiting for the explosion. The wail she let out sounds inhuman even to her own ears, she can’t fathom that she could make such a sound. Cautiously he approaches her, over his shoulders the wide doe-like eyes of Seung-Jae are shining bright, unshed tears glistening like fresh dew. Her rosebud lips curl up in despair as their eyes meet and she falls into Sang-In’s waiting arms.
He exhales a short breath, surprise evident in the tightening of the muscles in his body.
She sees the castle moving closer through blurry eyes, her tears so hot and pathetic on her face. She never meant to give anyone this much power over her and he took it easily, until he was done and once again she was tossed away. She wants so desperately to hate him.
She can only muster up the will to hate herself.
“I’ll get you some water.” The chair he places her in, scraps across the wooden floors, the sound obscenely loud in the eerie silence of the castle.
In. Out. In. Out.
Aching arms ascend up, crisscrossing on her shoulders, tap, tap, tap. The cotton balls begin to clear from her head, the fuzziness declines until she opens her eyes once more and meets those of the little art director.
“Why are you here? Aren’t you scared of me?”
She looks long and hard, eyes darting all over Mun-Yeong’s face. Until her heads moves softly side to side.
“It’s hard to be scared of someone, who looks so afraid them self.” Her lips snap shut and Mun-Yeong feels the usual desire flow through her, scare her, break her, hurt her. The feeling of warmth on her hands yanks her back from the darkness, that swarms inside her. She looks down at the hand that encompasses her own hand on the table. Wanting to pull away and show her that all these hands know are destruction, they are only capable of pain and death.
But.
She’s so warm.
Sang-In’s eyes broaden in sheer astonishment when he returns to the warm scene but he knows better than to comment. Knows that her hands will become razor-sharp, ready to attack if provoked.
“Here’s your water.” He places the glass to her lips and gently tilts the glass, pouring back all the fluids she expelled from her body. Her eyes begin to droop in exhaustion, he looks at Seung-Jae and her small nod is the only answer he needs.
Together, they carry Mun-Yeong’s complacent body up the stairs and tenderly place her in the large bed, its sheer size dwarfing her small frame. Sang-In gazes into her empty eyes and lifts his hand, suspended in time before he thinks better of it and simply pats the bed and silently walks out without a second glance.
Her thick blanket is drawn up to her chin and the warmth almost brings the ocean back to her eyes.
“Just sleep. “ Seung-Jae murmurs, no words of encouragement or of better tomorrows, just a simple command and again that warm hand encircles her own and she drifts off into a deep slumber. She dreams of nothing.
The sounds of morning wake her from her sleep, she lays in bed, still, comatose until she hears movement in the kitchen and she rushes from her bed. Running, Sprinting. Not bothering to get her slippers, rushing down the stairs, gripping the railing to prevent herself from falling, she can’t miss them swiftly turning the corner and-
Her heart fissures.
No Sang-Tae. No Gang-Tae.
Yellow and green bags, cover the table instead of hot soup, rolled omelets, fluffy rice, quail eggs, and steamed tofu. Disappointment cripples her heart and she wonders if it will always hurt this much? Will she have to cauterize every memory she has with them? Burn them close so the scars can remind of what everything she lost and stop her from ever doing it again.
“Oh you’re awake, here we bought breakfast.” Sang-In presses a sandwich into her hands, sitting down to drink his own coffee and on auto-pilot she crosses the cold kitchen, all of its warmth sucked from the room with the removal of the brothers.
She turns to look at him with a curious eye. Recalling all those years ago, as she thrashed on her hotel bed, apparitions of her mother haunting her dreams, the rigor mortis in her dead hands not enough to stop her from squeezing the air from her lungs. His fist hand banged on the door, before kicking the door open and shaking her from her night terrors. His face had been ghastly as he looked upon her own wet face, words caught in his throat and she had lashed out when he tried to embrace her.
Vicious scratches like a wild cat, until he finally gave up and sat down on the ground beside her bed. Minutes passed before he started to hum a nameless tune, she had fallen asleep with his baritone hums soothing her back to sleep. After that, there was a minute shift in their relationship, her cruel words didn’t seem to land the same way as they had done before. He looked at her like he was seeing her for the very first time.
He was looking at her like that once more.
Then his eyes shifted and he picked up his own sandwich.
They ate in silence and she vaguely wondered where the doe had gone with her big Bambi eyes and warm hands. But she didn’t inquiry out loud, people were prone to leaving. She would stop letting that shock her.
Next day, Bambi as she had taken to calling her showed up. Containers of warm food tied in a bag. She forced herself not to think about where they had come from and instead, chewed the delicious food slowly savoring each burst of flavor on her tongue.
This went on for days. Some days it was just her and Sang-In and other days Bambi- Seung-Jae was there, and sometimes all three of them ate together. She got used to their constant bickering about everything. On days, when one was there without the other, she noticed that they would turn with complaints on their tongues and ready to engage in a verbal skirmish before remembering that the other wasn’t there. She realized that friendship wasn’t always nice. You were allowed to bicker and rage and then deflate and carry on.
She watched them do it and heard Sang-In’s words echo in her mind when she asked him about it, his face was as shocked as when she had asked him who he liked more, her or the two-faced bitch. He replied with a finger on his newly naked chin, “ Friendship is complicated because people are too. Anything good is always worth a fight.”
Gang-Tae had looked like all the fight had fled his body that day at the beach. No. All his fight for her. He was willing to fight for his brother but he had made it clear that she wasn’t worthy of fighting, of complications, she could be picked up for a good time and then abandoned when the show was over. She was temporary.
She stayed in bed for days after that heart-breaking revelation.
Only leaving to eat with Sang-In and Seung-Jae.
Sunlight trickled through her curtains, as she got dressed. All black armor wrapped around her body. The sleeves of her floor length black dress, puffed up daring anything to get close to this dangerous creature. The bodice of the dress was almost too tight across her chest, molding the shattered pieces of her heart into some semblance of normalcy. She completed her ensemble with a large black netted hat that draped into her face, partially covering her eye and her towering black heels.
Death, itself would shudder at the sight of her.
Sang-in and Seung-Jae both perked up in admonishment at seeing her in something other than a dressing down.
“Mun-Yeong, you dazzling beauty!” He sang standing, hands clapping together in joy, he walked around to meet her and saw that the frost that had lined her eyes these past few days had melted a little.
“Where is my sandwich?” She demanded, humming in acquiescence when Seung-Jae bounded over to hand it to her, eyes lighting up as she informed her that she looked better.
She felt better.
It was time to stop mourning she thought ironically enough, whilst looking like the human manifestation of a funeral itself.
“I have to go to a conference today, so I won’t be here for lunch.” Sang-In stated, pointed looking at his assistant and before she could read between his lines- you need to be here to have lunch with Mun-Yeong. She looked up and said, “I won’t be here today. I called the hospital. I’m going to teach my class today.”
She didn’t miss the silent conversation that transpired between the two but her mind was made up. She needed to keep moving, staying still wasn’t an option anymore.
“Okay, I’ll drive you.” Sang-In said leaving no room for argument, she wasn’t used to seeing this side of him. Did he care about her?
The smile that he was brandishing made her think the answer, might be yes.
The drive was pleasant, she watched the trees and foliage as the car zoomed past them. Cherry blossom petals falling as if begging someone to catch them.
Her heart raced as they pulled up in the parking lot, all the times she had done that before flashed in her head, arguing with Sang-Tae about the radio and who should sit next to Gang-Tae all washed over her. She let it. Taking a moment to feel it. Before opening the car door and closing the door on it.
“I’ll pick you up later.” Sang-In called, pulling out as Seung-Jae waved goodbye, soft smile spread across her innocent face. She ached to wave back but only nodded her head in affirmation, before gripping her bag in her hand. This was it.
I can’t believe she’s here. Did anyone tell Gang-Tae? What if they run into each other? Do you think they’re still dating?
She heard all the whispers from the nurses who seemed to have endless time for gossip but none for much less, she had the bruises to proof it, all except Ju-Ri who avoided her like she had the plague and that at least made sense to her, it was just like when they were kids. At least she was consistent.
Her class had ended a few minutes ago and to her surprise she had missed the idiot patient with the too-bright eyes and endless optimism. Everyone else had nodded in agreement as she told them that “The Little Mermaid” was a tale of making yourself smaller to receive love, that love wasn’t gentle or unconditional but rather controlling and retraining. Trade in your values, beliefs and even voice so you could feel love’s tight grip and even then it wasn’t enough.
A-reum- she recalled her name- would have stood up and revolted against her and her bleak outlook on love, would have argued that love was a compromise and sometimes you had to make sacrifices for it but they were worth it. It was easy for her to say that when she had someone who thought she was worth fighting for, Mun-Yeong thought.
She walked the hallway aimlessly, until her feet brought her to the cafeteria. The same one she had watched him eat in, so many people around him, unlike her people gravitated towards him. Like he had his own orbital pull, but was completely unaware of it or its power.
Finding an empty table in the back, she walked there not knowing why she felt the need to be here. She slid on the smooth solid plastic of the chair, placing the lunch Sang-In had forced into her hand this morning as she had left the car.
Soon, she could be a representative for Subways, the way they were consuming it daily.
The sandwich was cool to the touch, but she didn’t mind. She had high internal heat. She ate alone, taking bite after bite of the sandwich, eyes down at the table before she heard the chair across from her being pulled out. She didn’t look up at first, swallowing her bite and taking a deep breath before she willed her eyes to rise.
She saw something she had never seen before.
A warm motherly smiled greeted her.
“I didn’t know you were back already, you look cheerful.” Soon-Duk teased, taking in her outfit with an amused grin on her face.
“This is my happiest black.” She responded, almost jumping at the burst of laughter that her joke garnered and she shyly smiled back, taking another bite of her sandwich.
“What kind of lunch is that? I will get you some real food.” She moved faster, than Mun-Yeong thought a woman her age should but within seconds, she was back with her delicious home-made food and despite her sandwich she felt her mouth watering.
Lunch was a compilations of here try this, eat up, no put this with this, you like that? She ate until she thought her stomach would explode.
“How are you?” Chopsticks stopped midair on their journey to her mouth. How was she. Everyone was asking her that. She had never had so many people worry about her well-being before, it was unsettling. She wasn’t worth any of it. The sooner everyone followed his lead the better. Didn’t they know that everything she touched turned to ruins? She was a harbinger of death, a bomb that would kill everything in its wake.
She never got a chance to answer that innocuous question.
Ju-Ri and Gang-Tae were frozen, across the room. Eyes wide in trepidation as she ate with their mother-figure. She wondered if they were scared for her? Terrified, that even being this close to her would result in anguish?
“Thank you for the food.” She surprised even herself with the words, before standing and walking away, a warm hand on her wrist stopped her escape, “You’re welcome. You can come to me anytime.” She fought back the tears that threatened to spill at the compassionate offer. She nodded. Then continued her escape, never one to stray away from confrontation. She met their eyes, one filled with contempt and the other....too many emotions to read. It wasn’t shocking to see them together, if Mun-Yeong was a firecracker, then Ju-Ri was a wet rag. Dependable. Damp. Lackluster. Jealousy burned like acid in her stomach as she quickly left the room.
She never saw those dark soulful eyes, watch her very move, drinking her up like he was dehydrated and she was the only source of relief.
So lost in her, that he didn’t notice two pair of eyes watching his rapture.
Life continued, like it always did she thought bitterly. The Earth didn’t stop spinning for any of us. It had been days since her not encounter in the cafeteria, Sang-In had picked her up as he promised and there had been another not encounter, Sang-In’s eyes had hardened while opening the door for her and she turned around to meet those dark haunting eyes.
He stood silent, as his brother rambled on about... someone named Terry? The circuit when their eyes met had been electric, fizzing through the air. He broke the contact first, eyes gazing over with...something as he looked down at the guiding hand her manager had placed on her back as he ushered her into the car. His other arm looming over her head as he opened the car door for her. The proximity between their bodies minuscule. That sharp jaw had tightened before he seemed to snap out of it and grab Sang-Tae’s arm, changing their course.
Giving them a wide berth of space.
Are you jealous?
Her own words echoed in her mind, as she remembered his aloofness as the fan had sat besides her. Showering her with praise and glowering at her every move, enraptured in her as she was simultaneously enraptured in the pen. The table had jilted from the force with which he slammed the coffee down with, his body turned away from them in overly zealous nonchalance. Until she had started writing her number down, he couldn't stop his contemptuous glances then. She had seen the anger in his eyes has she had pressed this stranger’s hand onto her waist. She has reveled in his jealousy, mindlessly taking that as proof of his feelings for her.
His reprimands afterwards had not doused the flames at all, his jealousy was palpable then. The addition of words to his actions, painting an even clearer picture. You’re mine.
What a load of bullshit.
Was she is his Mang-Tae? Something you hide away in a drawer only to possessively clutch at it when someone else tried to touch it?
Anger blistered under her skin, recalling with disdain how happy that moment had once made her. She was a fool to confuse possession with love.
Not so long ago she had seen them as two sides of the same coin. But she was learning that she was wrong. Everything she had been taught about love was wrong, soured by her mother’s volatile love and her father’s discernible hatred.
His jealousy brought her no satisfaction now. It might nothing if he wouldn’t fight. She was ready to go to war for them and he could barely pass a punch. It wasn’t equal, and love should be.
Pale pinks and reds enveloped her body, her pink chiffon dress was soft against her skin, a sheer red covering outset the ensemble resembling Aphrodite herself, her hair was curled in soft waves that framed her face perfectly. The gold-heart necklace that Sang-In had gifted her this morning sat on the prominent clavicle of her chest. On her feet she donned bloody red heels, matching the red of her lipstick that she swiped across her lips.
Perfect.
“You look beautiful Ms. Ko Mun-Yeong!” The wide Bambi eyes glimmered in happiness, as Seung-Jae hopped up and clapped her hands, curling wand still in her hands.
They had been up since morning, the usually frightful art director had dragged her from her a bed with a quick birthday song- do you have a death wish?- before begging her to allow her to help her get ready today.
It was the first time, she had ever had someone besides her mother touch her hair. She had counted until the panic had subsided. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5......
Before looking up and seeing that her hair was all glossy, bouncy curls that she had never been able to achieve on her own. She had reached up to touch the wondrous curls before a soft hand smacked her own away.
She looked up in shock and met the terrified eyes of Bambi before she cracked a smile and watched the girl do the same, breathless laughter followed close behind.
“Don’t touch. Your hair is so silky it was really hard to make it curl, don’t ruin all my hard work.”
Sang-In pressed in soon after and her skin tingled from all the praises, she looked in the mirror and agreed with all of them. She looked pretty.
“She’s in a good mood.” She hears one of the patients whisper as she passes by, she can’t deny it. She is. Today she had allowed them to create their own fairy tales, instead of her usual lectures. Their first creative writing session and they were all engaged, stories about princesses and ogres and witches and she smiled as she listened in as a patient defended her decision to make the witch the protagonist and hero. There are good witches!
Their time soon comes to a close and she hears them all whine in displeasure, “Can we finish them next week and read them out loud?” The old man begs, with pleading eyes, flustered by their evident interest in her class, all she can muster up is a nod.
Without much thought, she finds herself going to the cafeteria knowing that she will get a few moments with Soon-Duk before they are interrupted.
She had always relapsed this morning, fingers aching to send him a message. To let him know that today was important. Before remembering that today wasn’t important to him, he had his fun and she needed to leave him alone.
His rejection still stung and she wouldn’t let it burn her today.
“Well don’t you look gorgeous.” She perked at the sound of her voice and couldn’t help but smile in response. Warm hands encompass her own and Soon-Duk, walks her to their table, still hand in hand. Mun-Yeong wonders how they look, if they look like mother and daught--
They lapse into a comfortable conversation, she regales her with stories of her class today and how ridiculous some of the stories had been. Soon-Duk’s gentile smile makes her realize that she sounds like a proud teacher speaking of her students and their mishaps. A weird feeling flutters in her stomach.
“There she is, the birthday girl!” A new voice interrupts their conversation, looking up she sees the kooky director himself, a stupid grin on his weathered face.
Shock blazes across her face, looking at Soon-Duk who winks in response before leaving without a word.
“....... my son is a businessman, you would like him! He has always been a big fan of your work. I think it would be wonderful if you two were to met!” She tunes back in, catching the final part of whatever the madman was talking about.
For whatever reason, she had learned that Soon-Duk liked the director, they teased each other mercilessly, bickering like an old married couple and every once in a while he would join them and bore her with his stories of courtship. How had had fought off a band of thugs to save Soon-Duk’s live with only his watch, as the woman in question rolled her eyes stuffing more food into his ridiculous mouth to shut him up.
This was the primary reason she found herself agreeing to meet his son later today, This will be his first time visiting me at work, he’s a very busy businessman!
She liked Soon-Duk a lot, she wondered what had made Ju-Ri such a two-faced bitch when she had that for a mom?
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Mun-Yeong, happy birthday to you!” That woman must have been a magician in her past life because she suddenly reappeared with a small cake, perfectly round with heaps of sweet frosting and glazed fruits, strawberries and mangoes, her favorite.
Her cheeks were red from all the attention, the old man is singing terribly and loud, bringing everyone’s eyes to the tables, looks of curiosity and others called out “Happy birthday!” as well and she wasn’t prepared for any of this so she sits quietly, letting emotions she had never had the opportunity to feel wash over her- gratitude, joy, acceptance.
She felt her throat constrict from the emotions, her body overstimulated.
A perfectly cut slice was placed in front of her with a fork, “Eat up.” And she did. Treasuring every bite, like it was her last.
She felt their eyes before she even looked up and it was her time to leave. Happiness washed over her and without thinking, she pushed out of her chair and wrapped her arms around Soon-Duk. The warm body stiffened and she felt the rejection turn her blood ice cold, before those warm arms melted the frost away. Pulling her tighter into the spontaneous embrace. She hugged and let herself be hugged.
Remembering where she was and who was watching, she pulled way but not before those those hands were on her cheek, brushing away rogue tears she never knew had dropped.
Clearing her throat, she picked up what was left of her cake and started walking to the exit. She supposed she could give some to her idiot manager and his hapless assistant.
A hand shot out and grabbed her elbow, and when she looked up and saw who the hand was attached to- her reaction was immediate, she ripped herself out of his hold and felt fury bubbling under her skin. “Don’t touch me.”
She watched her words, stab him like daggers and his hand squeezed again as if still feeling the phantom touch of her arm.
He wasn’t doing good job at hiding his hurt at her words and actions and she momentarily imagined the satisfaction she would feel if she just smashed the cake into his face. Smeared it all over him and fled without a word. The cake was delicious though and she could feel Soon-Duk’s watchful eyes still on her.
That wasn’t who she wanted to be anymore.
She mustered up her courage and walked away, she had imagined what she would do if he ever approached her again, plead for him to stay, ask him to hold her, fall into his arms. Now that he was here, she still felt the desire to just forgive him but.. nothing had really changed. He was still the same coward and she was tired of being strong on her own.
“Happy birthday.” His soft statement, made her pause for a moment,. Her heart telling her turn around and run into his arms, feel his love for however long he allowed.
But she knew that she deserved more than he was willing to give. She wanted to be a faithful wife, not a dirty mistress.
So, she kept walking, until she was outside and sat on the bench, the one where they first met, when she had grabbed hold of him as her destiny, it was now time to let him go and let herself in.
The day was supposed to be enough, he wasn’t lying when he told her that he had been waiting for that day all this life. Experiencing it with her had made the day even more bittersweet, they had so much fun. Her smiling face had been the prettiest sight and then he had kissed her.
A quick press of hunger lips, arms folded behind his back to stop them from dragging her into his arms and never letting go. it had been pure torture, resisting her the night before, she had looked at him with those ravenous eyes and sweet mouth and he wanted to let himself be eaten alive.
But this was going to be his only day and he didn’t want their first kiss to be a drunken mess of tongues and spit, he wanted the kiss that had been taken from him all those years ago, when he had handed her his heart and she had trampled all over it, leaving him bleeding at her magnificent gate.
That kiss had awakened emotions in his soul that he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, and that should have been the wake up call he needed. But he ignorantly thought that he could have his cake and eat it too, and then Sang-Tae had taken his heart out and slashed it into small pieces. The water that had hit him was nothing compared to the guilt that crushed him, a tsunami wave that shoved him to the ground.
It was all his fault, he knew that now. He had wanted too much and dreamed a dream that was never his, he had let his brother down and betrayed his mother. You must always protect your brother, that is why I gave birth to you.
He failed.
But Sang-Tae had forgiven him, hugged him for the first time in years of his own volition. And then everything was fine.
Her crying face had haunted him in his dreams and he woke up in cold sweats, her screams still ringing in his ear, I’m a bomb! I don’t disappear after, I explode and kill everyone! Then dream Mun-Yeong had exploded, her limps sprawled all over and he woke up with silent screams.
He ignored the dreams and the pain in his chest. This was all for the best, Jae-Su had agreed and reminded him daily. He didn’t need anymore excitement in his life, his brother was enough.
He didn’t need to celebrate her birthday with her, they weren’t a couple. He wasn’t hurt watching her leave a room every time he entered. He wasn’t jealous of Ju-Ri’s mother for getting to hold her, a beautiful sight in her airy pink dress, her new hair in curls that he had never seen before. He hadn’t yearned to pluck her from the mother’s arm and hold her in his own, he was fine and everything was fine.
He didn’t mean to touch her but she had been so close and looked so exquisite, he heard Ju-Ri’s exhale of surprise when his hand reached out to graze her skin and he savored its softness before she had ripped herself away, her words cutting deep, dagger sharp.
His words had stalled her, but she kept walking not looking back and he wondered what was that breaking noise he heard so loudly in his head?
“Let’s go sit with my mom.” Ju-Ri stated exasperation profound in her tone, he wanted to tell her to go away and chase after Mun-Yeong.
He followed her to the table, sitting down before her mother started to share out their respective meals, seeming to have endless supplies of food at all times. He was always given the most, he noted with shameful pride.
“Well I got her to agree, to meet my son. I think they’ll really hit it off!” The director exclaimed, pure glee in his eyes as he almost danced in his seat.
“Leave the girl alone, she has enough on her plate. If your son is anything like you, she’s better off running for the hills!”
“I told you, he takes after his mother. He is a gentleman if I say so myself, when I mentioned it was her birthday he was adamant about picking up a gift for her!” He said with a voice laced with pride that only a parent could have.
Gang-Tae felt every muscle in his body harden at his words and the realization at what and who they were talking about.
He devoured all the food before him to stop himself from, lashing out at the director like he had with Sang-In. She’s mine. She’s mine.
It wasn’t his place to think that, much less act on it. He had said cruel things to her, thrown back all the affection she had given him because she was right he was a coward. He didn’t deserve her. He knew that. But knowing that didn’t stop him from wanting to punch the director in his face as he spouted out more information about his perfect son.
Who was perfect for Mun-Yeong.
He couldn’t sit here and listen to this any longer, even his patience wasn’t infinite. He launched himself out of his seat, ignoring Ju-Ri’s cries and her mother’s grasping hand. Tossing the rest of his food out, he pounded out of the cafeteria. Never seeing the twinkle of victory in the director’s eyes. Or Soon-Duk’s slap to his arm, chastising him for his obvious ploy.
He distracted himself by actually doing his job, something the other nurses seemed to be immune to. Nearly punching Cha-Young in his smug face, when he had boldly asked if he and Mun-Yeong were over and if he wouldn’t mind if he asked her out. His only response was a growl and the slam of his locker door, the lazy nurse had taken his hint and quickly ran off to gossip some more. “Sheesh it was just a question, she’s crazy but she is hot.”
He eagerly awaited the end of the day, counting the minutes until he could go home and recharge.
There was no preparation for the scene that greeted him at the hospital’s entrance. Mun-Yeong stood with an overwhelming bouquet of flowers, held tenderly in her small hands. Vibrant pinks, reds and whites that matched her outfit perfectly. She was smiling that soft smile, that usually came before her wrinkle eye smile. He had only ever seen that smile directed at him and felt his heart constrict in jealousy, that someone else was on the receiving end.
It felt like a sucker punch to the gut, when his eyes leveled with the someone else. That fucking guy from the coffee shop. He felt satisfaction at being correct about this guy, he was a stalker, how did he even know where she worked? Had they spoken after that first meeting? No. She had told him that she had not been interested in him at all, as she waxed poetry about the beauty of the stolen pen.
Mun-Yeong was many things but she wasn’t a liar.
All the female nurses cooed at the flowers and congratulated her as she struggled to wrap her arms about the expanse of the flowers. Coffee shop guy reached out to help her and the desire to beat him to a pulp was almost staggering.
Then the director swaggered out and placed a hand on the stalker’s shoulders and with another sucker punch to his gut uttered, “My son, you never do anything in moderation huh? This is quite the bouquet for a first time meeting.” Despite the reprimand in his words, he looked jubilant at the sight of his son, his son. How was this possible?
“Sorry dad, but actually we met before. She was kind enough to take a picture with me. When you told me she was here, I knew it was the perfect opportunity to surprise her on her birthday.” His answering smile made Gang-Tae sick to this stomach.
He didn’t have enough resolve to watch this. His hand on her shoulder with undeserved familiarity. Her sweet smile in return, as she let herself be guided away by the father-son duo.
He stomped out of the hospital, ignoring everyone’s calls of goodbye.
His foul mood lasted all evening resulting in his brother hiding away in his tent, after he had snapped at him for spilling some milk on the floor. He couldn’t stop thinking about her with him. What were they doing? Where they still together? Was she smiling at him? It was driving him crazy, imagining her looking at someone else the way she used to look at him.
The cool rooftop air did nothing to cool off his anger.
“You really have some nerve, don’t you?”
He turned at the voice, meeting the cool eyes of Soon-Duk, calmly walking over to the table and pushing him over to make room for her to sit.
He didn’t respond to her biting words.
“She told me what you said to her. If you don’t want her, then let her be happy. You owe her at least that much.” She continued on and his eyes filled up with tears, knowing she was right he had to let her go, she did deserve happiness and he couldn’t give it to her.
His job was taking care of his brother and nothing else. It didn’t matter if the thought of her with someone else made him want to throw himself off this roof. it didn’t matter if she was his first thought in the morning and his last thought at nights. It didn’t matter if he dreamed of hugging her and kissing her and loving her. None of it mattered.
Then why was he crying?
He cried long and hard, finally letting himself feel. Tears scorching as they cascaded down his face and he felt warm arms circle around him. Holding him as he shook, patting his head soothingly, before harshly smacking him. “Stop torturing yourself already, what do you really want?”
He was scared to answer. The answer was clear but to state it out loud was to acknowledge it and make it real. Was he ready for that? Once he said it he would need to do something, that thought made him hesitate.
But the thought of her loving someone else, spurred him on.
“Mun-Yeong.”
The hospital was abuzz with gossip when he entered the next morning, he tried his best to tune them out, but could’t escape the talk of their date. They had left together, and both entered his car, the female nurses gushing at his chivalry, he had rushed forward opening every door for her. Carefully placing the flowers in the backseat before, driving off to enjoy a quiet dinner.
He wouldn’t lose her again. Destiny had brought them back together and he had stupidly fought tooth and nail to work against it, he was done with that.
He was ready to fight for her.
But first he had to speak to his brother, after work he sprinted home, nervous and anxious but determined, he didn’t have to choose. They could all be happy again, living in the castle together. At least he hoped they could.
Convincing Sang-Tae that he wasn’t losing him had not been easy. He cried and screamed and retreated to his tent, he waited him out, repeating “I’ll always be your little brother.” Until his brother’s frantic cries finally stopped and the sound of the zipper opening flooded the room.
“Why can’t it just be us two? We’re brothers all we need is each other, we’re brothers.” He repeated with sad eyes, looking like the world was crashing down on him and Gang-Tae almost lost his resolve. Mun-Yeong’s face flashed in his mind and it came back with a vengeance.
“Because she makes me happy too. You both make me happy and I don’t want to choose. I want to be happy with both of you.” He answered honestly, smile lighting up his face thinking about the times they had all had dinner together. Smiling and laughing as they talked about their day, Sang-Tae sharing his stories about the pizza shop as they both looked on with fondness.
“Happy. Gang-Tae is happy.” He felt his brother’s finger trace his smile with juvenile innocence, and he smiled even harder because he was happy and when he got her back, he would be even happier.
They fell asleep shortly after, he cuddled his brother until his breathing was steady, drifting off to thoughts of her dark tempting eyes and candied smiles.
He peeked out the closet door, waiting for that familiar head of lustrous short hair and impeccable fashion. She was looking radiant today in midnight blue, he reached out with trembling hands and yanked her into the small room with him. Her indignant, “What the hell are you doing?” was cut short by the slam of the door. She pulled her hand from his grasp, looking up at him in the dark before her vision settled. Her lips formed a perfect o.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” He accused boldly, recalling all the moments he had attempted to speak to her this week only to see her spin around and walk run in the other direction. Once, he had actually chased her only to collide with the director who needed help picking out a tie for his meeting with a donor, he had looked back in annoyance as he was pulled further and further away from her. Then another time, he had arrived to lunch early, bullying Cha-Young into switching breaks with him.
As soon as she saw him approaching, she had bolted with all her food in her hand looking like a squirrel hibernating.
He ignored the amused eyes of Soon-Duk, who appeared to be enjoying his suffering immensely for someone who had told him to stop torturing himself.
So, now here they were. In this closet. She reached for the doorknob and he extended an arm over her shoulder, forcing the door shut.
“What are you doing? Do you have a death wish? Let me out!” She pushed at his chest in petulance, he didn’t budge even an inch.
He placed his other arm over her shoulder and bracketed her in, leaning in close and watching her face. She looked beautiful, face flushed with anger, he really hoped she didn’t have any sharp objects on her.
“We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Fine, then I’ll talk and you can listen.”
She tried to bolt again, trying to pry his hands off the door, even at one moment seeming to think about kicking him but he caught her leg with his own and pressed her into the door.
“Stop. I just want to talk.” He pleaded with her.
“I don’t care what you have to say. Leave me alone.”
“Mun-yeong please....”
Her eyes softened momentarily before the frost grazed back over them.
“What do we need to talk about? if you’re looking for fun I can’t help you, firecrackers only go off once. “ She spat back at him, going for the jugular. The desire to check his throat for blood was immediate.
He knew those words would be thrown back at him. He deserved them, when he had said them he knew they would hurt her to her core. But he said it anyway, because he was a fucking coward. He had lied to so many people around himself, including himself, he had felt trapped in the vortex of his own deceptions. So he lashed out and pushed her away, angry at himself. As soon as he had uttered the words out loud, he knew that he had damaged whatever trust they had build with tentative hands. He had taken a sledge hammer to the foundation of their relationship.
“I’m sorry I said that, I’m so sorry. I never should have said those things to you. You were right, I am a fucking coward- her eyes widened at his curse- and I pushed you away because you scared me. What I was feeling for you scared me. I want you so badly, that it terrifies me. But I’m ready to fight now, Mun-Yeong I’m ready to be strong for us. “ He poured himself out at her feet, giving her all the ammunition to hurt him and trusting that she wouldn’t.
But like he said he had been the one to break their trust.
Her cold laughter made him take a step back, “Oh you’re ready to fight now? Should I be thankful? Should I drop everything and follow you like a lost puppy? Oh wait, I already did that. You told me to get lost. So about you take your own advice Gang-Tae, stop stirring up my miserable life and get lost.”
She pushed him out back, harder than before, finally managing to escape, the door slamming behind her.
Damn.
That could have gone better. But he wasn’t giving up. Not now, he had hurt her and winning her back wasn’t going to be easy.
Their game of cat and mouse continued, with her running every time he was in her vicinity and he watched with anguish as he started to pick her up after her classes.
The first time, she had been on her phone talking to Sang-In berating him for his tardiness, “Get here now or I’ll kill you.” When he had showed up, and he despised the way she smiled at him, hanging up without a goodbye and walking into his open arms. His hands had soothed down the material of her baby blue sundress and Gang-Tae wanted to break each of his fingers.
“Sang-In told me he was running late and asked me to pick you up.” He offered as a way of explanation, handing her an iced coffee, which she happily took placing the straw between her plush mouth, sucking hard.
He tightened his fist, watching that punk, watch her with hunger in his eyes.
“Okay, I won’t kill him tonight then. I’m starving, what are you going to feed me?” She asked him as they left, arms linked, that was supposed to be him. He had taken those moments for granted, her arm linked through his, her adorable face as she consumed pounds of grilled meat and still demanded more. Now he had to watch another man, take his place and make her happy.
He didn’t know how much longer he could do this.
Every time he saw them together it was like salt in his wound.
He knew this was all his fault, he had brought this on himself. But did it have to hurt this much? Did his heart have to throb this way?
After the closet incident, it became impossible to find her around the hospital. It was like she knew exactly where to hide so he couldn’t find her.
It was time to fight harder then.
The gated loomed ominously before him as he pushed them open with determined hands. He knew that she was home today, he had Sang-Tae text her to make sure, as they were talking again, best friends once more as he was now the outcast. Unlike when he tried texting her, she had immediately responded to Sang-Tae, I am home, you can come over if you want. We can have fun.
It had been difficult, stopping Sang-Tae from getting dressed and taking up her offer, “That is what best friends do. They hang out and have fun. I have to go!”
He had distracted him with Teary, explaining that Teary needed his attention right now, it was still early days since the dinosaur had joined their family.
With a deep breath, he climbed the marble decaying stairs and put the key in the lock, twisting it open. He had never gotten a chance to return it to her and he was thankful for that now. The door creaked open and he glared at it with betrayal, this would only work if he caught her by surprise.
He heard her sultry voice, coming from the kitchen, “I don’t need a babysitter you can go out with the two-faced bitch. if I get bored I’ll call Sang-Tae or Daniel.” He ignored the pain that shot through his heart at not being one of her options. “ He is working late, but he promised to call me after and drop off food. Okay, have a good time. if she gets drunk and hits you, make sure to hit her back!”
She meandered out, still unaware of his presence, aimlessly scrolling through her phone, long silk nightgown sheathing her lithe body, the silk draped into each and every crevice of her body and left his mouth dry. Parched.
“We need to talk.” She jumped at the sound of his voice, grabbing a.....lamp defensively and readying it for her attack. Until she realized it was him, she only lowered the lamp marginally. He was going to take that as a small victory.
“How did you get in here? Are you stalking me now? What is wrong with you? Get out!” She fired off her questions and command, all in one breath, her voice higher and frantic.
“No, we need to talk. I need you to listen to me.”
“I heard you the last time, you’re ready now. I HEARD YOU. I just don’t care.”
He sidestepped the lamp as it flew from her hands, and hugged her close to him, feeling the tremors run through her body. She was wild in his embrace, scratching and fighting to break free, he pinned her tighter. Holding on for the ride.
“I want you, and I think you still want me too.”
“No, I don’t. You were just something to pass the time. I’ve moved on now.”
He marched on, “Does he make you feel like I do? Look me in the eyes.”
He grabbed her chin in his hands, gentle but firm, forcing her eyes to meet his and he watched them surge with anger, so much anger but he also saw lust and he was going to cling to that.
“It doesn’t matter. “ She twisted out of his hold, sprinting to the stairs, he followed right behind her, grabbing her wrist and jerking her around to face him.
“It does matter. Answer me, does he make you feel like I do?!” He roared now, his anger so close to the surface, he refused to spend another minute without her, refused to watch her run into someone else’s arms. They went hand in hand, bomb and safety pin.
She refused to meet his eye, vengeful tears filling her eyes, “No, he doesn’t.” And victory sped through him, his smile was instant, before it fell, “And I don’t want him to. I don’t ever want to give someone that kind of control over me. I like what he makes me feel, it’s easy and fun. it doesn’t hurt like this does. “
He should leave her alone. Walk out the door and through the gate. Walk all the way back home. Eat dinner with Jae-Su, Ju-Ri, her mother and Sang-Tae. Should go to sleep and accept his loss. Accept that he ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. Should be happy that she has something fun and easy.
Well, he doesn’t do any of that. Doesn’t listen to his head, that’s telling him to accept his defeat gracefully.
He eats her mouth, there is no other way to describe the ravenous way that he devours her, prying her mouth open with his tongue, swirling around, their tongues meet in a heated duel. Presses her hard, into the wall, hands lost in her hair as she tugs at his shirt, exposing his hot stomach to the cool air. At first, she fights him, biting him hard enough to draw blood, she is vicious. Then her kisses soften and her nails rake over the crevice of his abs, leaving welts in their wake, he moans at the painpleasure. He trails down her elegant neck, sucking the hot skin into his mouth, doing his damnest to leave a mark.
She pushes him back and he smirks, unashamed. She looks absolutely wrecked, panting on the wall, her nipples hard through the silk of her nightgown. He can’t wait to roll them through his teeth and watch her body writhe in ecstasy.
Time stands still, as they stand panting, eyes glazed over in pleasure, waiting to see who will make the next move.
She does.
She throws herself into his waiting arms and he hooks his hands under her ass, drawing her close as she sticks her wet, slithering tongue into his mouth. She kisses like how she does everything else, explosively. Biting at his lip, forcing him to open his mouth wider to accommodate her demanding tongue.
He walks backwards, praying that he won’t drop her, she might actually kill him then. Until his knees hit the couch and he collapses onto it, taking her with him. He moans as she straddles his lap, the heat from between her thighs is searing hot and he grinds up into her, dragging her down to meet his thrust.
Finally, their kisses breaks, both taking a gulp of much needed air, a string of spit connects their mouth, before she licks her lips, splitting it.
“Only I can make you feel this way.” He proclaims with confidence, everything they have been through has brought them to this moment. They aren’t perfect and there’s still so much they need to learn, but they can do it together.
She sits in his lap, eyes shining, taking in his declaration before she suddenly grips the bottom of her nightgown and slips it over her head and then he has a lap full of half-naked Mun-Yeong. Her rose-petal pink panties glow on her pale skin, the moonlight trickling in, makes her look ethereal and he almost pinches himself to make sure this is real.
He comes alive.
Running his hands from her neck, between the valley of her breast, down to her wet center, bringing his finger to this mouth for a taste, he moans as he licks her essence away hungry for more.
She watches in fascination, before grabbing his shirt and dragging it over his head. Her eyes rake across his broad chest, tampering down into a tight narrow waist, he already knows that she likes his body. She had looked like she wanted to lick him all over last time. Unlike that time, he doesn’t push her away as she presses her body against his. Pleasure shooting through him as her nipples catch on his.
They spend minutes just grinding on each other, his hard dick presses up into her moist opening, and she bounces on his lap, breathless moans leaving her swollen mouth every time they meet.
“Please, please I need more.” She begs prettily, the p popping off her lips and he wants to make her beg even more, wants to make her a filthy mess on the couch.
He hoists her to the side, chuckling at her huff of indignation, his baby has never been patient but right now he can’t blame her. He wishes he was inside her, like yesterday. As quickly as he can he rips his pants off and pauses at his boxers, his swollen length standing at attention, the head visible through the slit.
He is unprepared for her mouth to slide down his entire length, her hand gripping the base that is still in the boxers. She swallows around him and he fights to keep his hips still, her wet mouth is obliterating all of his thoughts until all he can think is fuck, fuck, fuck ,fuck.
That sinful mouth, suctions around his heavy dick, licking at his sensitive head causing him to buck up, deeper into the cavern of her mouth. She toys with him, bringing him to the edge only to, slide off completely and start all over.
Her eyes stay on his the entire time, and it is pure unadulterated gratification, watching his length move in her mouth, in and out, in and out, it is hypnotic and he is lost in the pleasure. With a smirk she releases his cock, with a loud slurp, tongue coming out to lick him from her lips, lest she miss anything.
With strong hands, he seizes her and tosses her over the arm of the chair. Putting her dripping, wet pussy on full display, he pries her thighs open and laps up all the goodness. He has never done this before, but is eager to please and porn was a great teacher. The girls in those videos had never been able to get him this hard, their moans fake and repetitive. But now with Mun-Yeong naked and squirming in front of him, he understands why men have gone to war for this.
He would happily wage war for the chance to taste her.
With broad strokes of his tongue, he licks at her folds, biting at her enlarged clit, chest puffing out in pride at her answering squeaks of pleasure, he presses his tongue inside the hot tunnel and she thrusts back in reckless abandon.
Riding his face, now. Bouncing on his tongue and demanding more more more so he slips in a finger and the noise she lets us could rise the devil, himself. It is music to his ears. He thrusts his finger in while exploring her with his tongue, both scraping out every drop of pleasure from her body.
With weak hands, she reaches back and forces his head away from his meal. He sneaks in one more lick, before allowing her to push him away.
Their pants reverberate off the walls, he looks over and she is still hanging over the arm of the couch, looking every inch the temptress she is. He grips himself in his hands, pumping up and down, squeezing at the base to draw this out, he still has to make her beg after all.
She watches him over her shoulder with rapt eyes, reaching back to touch her own wet pussy, pressing in two fingers and curling them roughly inside herself.
She draws those sinfully wet fingers out with a soft squelch and beckons him closer, with the seductive curl of her fingers. He flies across the couch, easily covering the small space that separates them.
He drags her back into his lap, with her back facing him, grinding into her hot core, groaning when his cock head dips in but moving away before she can fully sheathe him. He takes her soft breast into his arms, rubbing the nipples between his fingers and kissing her neck, as she wraps her arms over her head and around his neck. Giving him full control and access to her body.
He sucks hickey after hickey into her skin, in places others will see and hidden places just for his eyes. She is a whining mess in his lap, lifting up to catch his cock, but he snaps his hip away every time, only allowing it to slide through the wet folds. He rubs his dick against her clit and she starts to wail, nails scratching at his shoulders and that’s going to hurt tomorrow.
He looks forward to it.
She twists her head around, finding his lips again, distracting them from the hickey they were sucking into her neck. They wrestle for control, pushing and pulling, tongues meeting into a wet battle and he blames that diversion for his surprise as she lifts up and sinks slowly onto him, engulfing his fattened cock in an indescribable heat.
The connection is like a life wire.
Their hips smack together, colliding over and over, he can’t help but look down and watch his cock disappearing into her, captivated by humanity’s oldest dance. She rides him hard, feet planted on the side of his thick thighs, begging him to go harder, faster, more as he squeezes her jiggling breasts and pushes even deeper into her depth.
Fucking fuck fuck.
Gradually, she starts to slow down, the movement of her hips faltering, he feels the fatigue in his own body but desire pumps like adrenaline through his veins and he wraps his hands around her slim waist, pushing her into the couch, her chest flat with the couch and her ass high in the air. His cock never slips from her body.
He fucks into her hard, delighted at how deep he can move in this position, she thrusts back meeting him, and he does it again, watching her ass shake with the impact. His broad hands gripping the globes of her ass, spreading them, to get a clearer view of his dick inside her.
His movements quicken as he feels the end drawing closer, he doesn’t want it to end, wants to be with her like this forever. But his balls hang heavily, waiting to expel all their fluids into her willing hole, that clutches and pulls him back with every thrust. Reaching around and pressing his fingers to her mouth, he pants, “Suck.” She sloppily takes his fingers, when they feel wet enough he pulls them out from her mouth, praising her, “You’re so good baby, so good to me.”
She grows wetter at his praise and presses back even harder, and he winds his fingers down to her engorged clit and rubs against it until she breaks apart underneath him, he wraps her up in his arms and rides her through her orgasm, feels her juices gushing out and the clenching of her walls, shoves him over the precarious edge he’s been on. His thick cum coats her walls, shooting out as he falls in a heap over her back, just catching the arm of the couch before he could bash his head into it.
Euphoria washes over him in waves, until his vision rights itself and he sees Mun-Yeong still beneath him, fearing that he’s crushing her, he uses the last of his strength to lift his body off hers, flopping onto the other side of the couch.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” Her heads snaps over to his in shock, he looks back at her, his eyes wide and hopeful. Some might say that they do things backwards, but he just likes to think they move to the beat of their own drum.
She rolls her eyes before nodding yes. “if you ever make me cry again, I’ll kill you. “
He pumps a victorious fist into the air, take that coffee shop guy.
They spend the rest of the night, cuddling in her bed as he caresses her head and promises to make her happy for as long as she will allow him to. He whispers apologies onto her skin, until they fall into peaceful slumber.
He isn’t trying to stake his claim or anything domineering like that, but when he sees Mun-Yeong sequestered in a dark corner with Daniel the next day, he wanders over and catches the tail end of their conversation.
“I’ve had a lot of fun with you, but there’s someone else I was trying to forget. I hope you understand.”
“I do, spending time with you has been amazing. if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here.”
Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Fuck you very much.
Mun-Yeong starts to walk away, making her way the exit, leaving Daniel despondent in the hallway when he calls out to her, speeding up to catch her by her waist, she stops and rises an eyebrow, challenging him to act and he accepts it happily.
He drags her into a kiss, pressing his tongue into her mouth while stroking the hairs at the nape of her neck. Her immediate moan, making arousal sear through his blood. Imagining how else he could get her moaning.
“Oh my god, they’re kissing!” Sun Byeol’s high-pitched voice reaches his ear and he kisses her harder for good measure.
Pulling away, he sees Mun-Yeong roll her eyes again but he also sees satisfaction in those eyes, she’s just as possessive as he is. She secretly loves that she brings out his primal side, so different from the blushing shy Gang-Tae.
He looks over at coffee shop guy with a smirk, before walking out the hospital with his girl on his arm.
He was never letting her go. Destiny had brought them together, but they had made the decision to stay that way.
#its okay to not be okay fic#its okay to not be okay#psycho but it's okay#moon gang tae#ko mun yeong#healing romance#graveling#smutty smut smut#filthy gutter trash#but like also romance#stole Ju-Ri's mom#I said I would#sorry not sorry
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Do you want Paris flirting with Menelaos in public? Of course you do. This contains misuse of the Epic of Gilgamesh~
*
Troy
The hall was lush and warmly lit, the earlier dishes of food now replaced by sweet fruit and richer wine. Music was drifting up towards the ceiling tiles and rafters, accompanied by the liquid silver of the lyrist's voice. It was much easier now to appreciate it all when Menelaos was waiting for word of hopeful success to his propitiatory sacrifices, though there was still tension lingering. Worries. He had done as bid, but was it enough? He wouldn't even be able to tell when it came to the second half of the affliction that had led to the need for these sacrifices, but that made a positive message of resolution for the epidemic all the more important as a sign that the sacrifices had been received and made correctly.
Reaching for one of a small pile of strawberry tree fruits, Menelaos shifted in place. His scalp prickled with the weight of a stare on him, but the worst was the voice, dropping slightly in tone, earnest emotion all too clear, near wailing, as Gilgamesh mourned Enkidu. Out on the floor, in full view from where Menelaos sat, Alexander was on his own chair, legs loosely stretched out in front of him, hooked at the ankles, his fingers practically caressing the lyre's strings.
He wasn't going to look.
He looked up anyway, straight into bright, blue-green eyes which he'd known would be fastened on him.
Menelaos looked away, taking another sweet, refreshing fruit, and almost choked on it in his hurry to bite down on it. Alexander had been doing this for the past three days, while he ran through the songs attached to this personage, translated for his guest's benefit. At first, he hadn't thought much of it, merely appreciating the skillfull singing and the story being spun out by dancing fingers and lilting voice. Had thought it nothing more than chance when Alexander had met his eyes during the first song, a little smile lurking in the corners of his mouth as Gilgamesh went to his mother to ask for interpretation of his dream.
It could well have been an accident, for Alexander let his gaze wander around the hall as he sang; smiling at younger siblings; raising his eyes up to the rafters; down to the floor and then around the great hall once more, or staring with distracted focus at the gilded animal heads of the lyre. The last Menelaos was fond of, for in that distraction was revealed Alexander's perfect skill and control, the lovely stretch of his graceful neck.
Menelaos pushed that last thought away, but he could still feel Alexander's eyes on him as he intently sang with such breathless emotion, and he shifted in his seat again, plush with thick, good cushions.
Alexander only looked straight at him whenever Gilgamesh and Enkidu talked, or someone talked to one of them about the other. It shouldn't be alluring in the least, it shouldn't mean anything, except he had kissed that remorseless mouth in the privacy of Alexander's bedroom, and Alexander didn't need to be singing about love for every word so lovingly uttered, about such a bond as he was singing of, to make his point clear. It was ridiculous that it should affect him beyond a fondness and exasperation for Alexander's daring, but the way his voice dipped down just slightly, enrichening the silver of his soaring singing voice, the way those eyes lingered so heavily on him...
Menelaos was embarrassingly, frustratingly, hard.
And he could do nothing about that, for if he should stand up, it'd be all too obvious, and he couldn't drag the cruel young man off in full sight of all and sundry anyway. So he was left to suffer until Alexander would put the lyre aside, until the bronzed sound of his laughter stopped heating his blood, at least for long enough so he might be allowed to regain control of himself. If he said anything to hopefully make him to stop, that would only reveal how deeply he was getting to him, but letting Alexander getting away with this would only encourage him.
He was far too full of both energy and dangerous ideas, as well as the skills to enact them. It had been a bit of a shock to realize that while he was the elder between them, the wide-eyed puppy eagerly and earnestly wishing for his attention was also a wolf, skilled in hunting. Menelaos' only recourse was to attempt to correct his wayward prince in the sweet-smelling privacy of Alexander's rooms.
Which was certainly something he was looking forward to, if, at the moment, with an edge of furious embarrassment to the need. He would still have to wait, for now.
***
Sparta
The sun was inching towards the horizon when they turned back towards Sparta, Mount Taygetos towering up behind them. Three deer had been the final tally for the hunt, and Paris was still full of the energy of the day as well as the success of the hunt itself, having downed one of the deer himself, at a distance only made possible by the bow.
Looking around the train spread out behind his and Menelaos' horses, Paris smiled, pleased once again by the sight of the dead deer. A fine hunt, all in all. Even finer by the break they'd taken in the hot early afternoon, to ride out those hours with a meal under the shadows of sheltering trees. More than that, the pool Menelaos had found for them. Smile widening into a full-body warmth at the reminder, Paris glanced sideways, to where Menelaos sat on the back of his own horse. Tall and broad-shouldered, the sinking sun threw Menelaos' shadow over the horse's neck and head, caught gold and and glowing coal-red in his hair. It brought to mind the gilded shimmer about temple statue, ephemeral flames. Paris had missed that. Not that he hadn't seen others with blond hair - there were some in Troy itself, as few as they were, but none of them had Menelaos' particularly reddish shade, which had made Paris want to touch it from the very first moment he'd laid eyes on him as he stepped into Troy's megaron.
The absolute best part of Menelaos, aside from his amber-brown eyes, summer-warm and soft even when he wasn't smiling, was his thighs, however. Gaze drifting down, Paris bit his lip. They were very nice indeed, and the victorious curl of bright energy settled lower.
He pulled his horse that half step back he'd had on Menelaos and slipped in so close their knees pressed together.
"Menelaos," Paris said, couldn't help the deepening warmth of his voice, the brightening heat of his smile, and burst out laughing as Menelaos looked to him, incredulity plain on his face.
"A full day as this, and you still have energy? Please, leave it for the feast when we come back to Sparta."
"Oh, I'm not going to be using any energy," he promised as he leaned in towards Menelaos with only a bare glance thrown over his shoulder to note the distance between them and the next closest horses of their hunting party. Good enough. "Looking at you gives me energy, no matter what I might have spent in all the hours of the day up until now. The way the light catches in your eyes, already reminding me of sunlight through amb---"
"Alexander." Menelaos was frowning, so fierce one could think him nothing but displeased, but there was a reddening glow stealing over his cheeks to match the shadows in his hair, and he had shivered at the first brush of lips so very close to the shell of his ear, but more importantly; he hadn't pulled away.
"I'm serious, Menelaos," Paris murmured, shifting his weight and tightening his knees about his horse to compensate, stroking its neck while he watched shifting tension in Menelaos' jaw. "I thought I was going to die the first time I laid eyes on you, and the few extra years between then and now hasn't changed that at all. I have seen the finest of prize bulls with less impressive thighs than you, and if I could have but one single more chance to touch them, I would count myself the most blessed man currently alive. To say nothing of your smile, when I can draw it out of you; spring couldn't be sweeter for the gentle warmth of it."
Pure delight was by now buoying Paris, for Menelaos had neither rebuked him nor sped up his horse, both of them easy ways to make this stop. Of course, Paris was very well aware of Menelaos' terribly strict adherence to the proper way to be a host, and that was fine - and he might be using it just a little right then to trap him where he was - but it didn't mean Menelaos didn't have recourse. He could urge his horse just a step or two in front of Paris, and that wouldn't look strange or be an insult in the lead, and they both should know that. Heat warmed his belly, his voice, just barely the tips of his ears, but Menelaos was by now sweetly rose under his tan, and Paris wouldn't give him a chance to rally.
Shifting his knee against Menelaos', as much for the feel of soft skin over hard bone as the pulse that jumped in Menelaos' jaw, Paris pressed it in against Menelaos, right behind the kneecap, and smiled. There were strands of blond hair, gold like the finest, thinnest chains of necklaces that adorned girls' throats, brushing his lips, and Paris refused to pull away for the tickle. It was only adding to the warmth spreading down his thighs.
"I know I already noted you grew your beard out," Paris continued, laughing softly when Menelaos huffed, his blush now reaching his ears. There was a different tension making its way between his brows, and Paris didn't like that, and so shook his head. "I didn't get the chance to say I like it, and I want it all over my body."
Menelaos choked, swallowing nothing but air, and Paris smiled with breezy sunniness. Menelaos hadn't even grown in out much; two years ago it'd been a fine five o'clock shadow, just barely there to scrape his fingertips; it was now a heavy stubble, enough to soften the cut of Menelaos' jaw with its bristle, but still close-cropped.
"I want to kiss your thighs and dig my fingers into your shoulders, and I think the war god himself would be pleased at the width of th---"
"Alexander," Menelaos snapped, truly red in the face now and a hand locked around one of Paris' wrists. His nails dug into the soft inner skin of the wrist, but the thumb, burning hot it felt like, was almost caressing in its tiny movement. "Let a man catch his breath - we're not all young any longer. Have you not already had enough success hunting today?"
"One success leads to the desire for more," Paris said brightly, completely shameless, but he did pull himself straight, though mourning the lack of Menelaos' body heat, mingling with his as it'd been, trapped between them.
Menelaos sighed, a deep heave of a breath. Squeezed his wrist and let go, but he didn't pull his horse forward again, and Paris, buzzing with flushed success, behaved for the rest of the ride back to Sparta.
#greek mythology#trojan war#menelaus#paris of troy#lightart#for troy and sparta#gotta collar and probably gag him if you want Paris to behave
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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 19: No Sympathy for the Bloodwraith
PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter)
RATING: Mature
⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽
⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽
Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.
Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].
Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.
*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!
⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽
Cadence recounts one of the worst events in the Council’s history as the bloodwraith’s motives are brought to light. Taylor’s new empathy turns into both a helpful gift and a terrible burden.
[READ IT ON AO3]
New Orleans, 1921
“If you think the entire Garden Coven unwilling to march on you without hesitation, then you’re far more a fool than you’ve already proved yourself to be.”
The Nighthunter rounds on him with stake in hand. Even as unofficial allies his intent is clear: I will use this.
But Cadence doesn’t step back because he fears the weapon. He fears the man using it.
Has seen that wild look in his eyes elsewhere — though never in a human. It is the look that watches his every step, that hoards the limp limbs of their meal closer, that seeks only to gorge on thick veins and will not be sated until red ichor spills from their lips they are so full with it.
In a reversal of fortune it is the human who looks at the vampire with the gouging claws of bloodthirst and madness.
Any creature of sound mind would fear Reimonenq now.
“They can’t touch me,” the sneering reply, “those damn Accords keep y’all from actin’ as a faction!”
“Those same Accords demand the same of you!”
“It’s different for me an’ you know it, Smith.”
“No—honestly I don’t. You’re just as much a part of this community as any of us. You’re beholden to the Accords just as we are!” But the thing he’s still struggling to grasp, the thing that leaves him gaping even as Derek Reimonenq resumes shoving his things into a ratty sack, is far worse.
“Even with the legality aside — you just murdered three young women in cold blood.”
If any vestiges of warmth remained in his once-alive body they are dashed in the moment the man’s cruel laughter reaches his ears.
“Trust me when I say there weren’t nothin’ cold about it.”
A blind fury consumes him. Sends him rushing at the man with preternatural speed to pin him to the wall; the same grasp capable of turning concrete to powder wrapped around the mortal’s neck.
“You think this is funny?!”
“What it is, damn bleedin’ hearted fool, is justice!”
Derek shoves him back; only succeeds when the vampire is too stunned to speak or hold his ground. “You storm in here spoutin’ all yer high-horse shit about them Accords but you think I’m the only one what broke ‘em? You think those devil-whisperin’ freaks didn’ bend they’re own rules just the same?
“Those girls were unnatural. Even for they’re kind. I been at this all my life Smith — I know how to suss out the ones who ain’t got no hope a’goin’ anywhere but bad.”
“You killed them before they even had a chance. You’re no seer Reimonenq, you can’t possibly think you’re justified on a hunch!”
Derek’s upper lip curls. Cadence is almost surprised he doesn’t glimpse fangs.
“A Nighthunter’s job ain’t easy an’ it ain’t nice an’ it definitely ain’t simple. I already compromised every-damn-thing I believe in when I joined in on ya damn Council. But Come Hell an’ high waters if I stop makin’ this city safe for me an’ mine.”
Like a creature in her own right there comes a small hollow noise at the door. Low and center — the tap-tapping of child’s knuckles. The men break their brawl to watch — to wait.
The knuckles tap-tap again. Firmer this time.
Derek wars with himself for only a moment — opens the door and smooths the kind eyes of a father over those of the beast before.
Cadence knows it isn’t his spectacles that cause him to see a familiar child; not the honey-eyed daughter of Reimonenq but the wild ginger mane of Meredith LaPointe’s youngest. Her face frozen in terror as it will always be; carved behind his eyelids and in his soul.
Even in a town like New Orleans some hauntings have nothing to do with the supernatural. Some are personal.
The little girl stands with her nightshirt bunched in impossibly tiny fists. Wide eyes shining at the sight of her father before realizing he isn’t alone. When her lower lip begins to wobble the vampire realizes his mistake and averts his unnatural ruby gaze.
“You’re supposed to be in bed baby girl,” croons the same man who had burned three girls mere hours ago.
He picks his daughter up and tucks her in close. Cadence wonders if she can smell burned flesh and hair on his old army coat. “Where’s that momma’a yours…” Doesn’t look back to his guest even as he closes the door behind him, ventures deeper into his slumbering home.
Now alone the towering man begs for an answer only he can give — the same thing he had thought with the sunset a looming enemy at his back on the steps of Reimonenq’s domain.
Why is he here?
He has no stake in the Nighthunter’s life. In fact they’ve run afoul of one another more than most. For a man apparently so dedicated to upholding the tenets of the original Nighthunters he sure found himself in debt to the creatures he should so despise often enough. They’d met that way — another payment to Cadence’s three year debt to Carlo in strongarming the money that was promised.
And fucks sakes… there’s nothing redeemable about a man who would hold his daughter with hands still stained with the soot of a witch pyre.
The Council will come for him. There’s even a likelihood the vampire himself would be one of the men tasked with bringing him for his trial.
Maybe he just has to accept that there isn’t a reason for confronting Reimonenq alone.
Maybe he just wants to understand.
Monster to monster.
“What foul…?” He catches another whiff of burned flesh and a shudder rolls through him. He wonders if it should remind him of the battlefield. Still so strong even with thin walls between them — like Reimonenq hadn’t even left the room.
Curious.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees the lumped and dark shadow of the hunter’s sack. Ready to cut and run even with a family awaiting his return on the city’s outskirts.
Cadence doesn’t have a family — or if he does he doesn’t know where to find them. Are they waiting for him? Are they just as ignorant to the truth?
All his unanswered questions and here the other man is almost eager to abandon it all. Jealousy is an ugly thing.
When he reaches for the bag it’s because he’s angry; because he wants to delay Derek as much as possible. Not just to face the consequences of his actions but so he knows what the fuck he’s leaving behind. Has to dial down his strength lest he send a myriad of Nighthunter’s essentials hurtling through the thin drywall.
Stakes clatter to the floor. A medieval crossbow lands arm-down and snaps the archaic metal off like shattering glass. Bare essentials of fabric tumble out and reveal the prize he had wrapped within with care and greed both; what remaining skin was peeled from muscle tissue and bone from the flames that had consumed them starts to flake off and settle on scuffed wooden floors.
One cooked finger snaps off and rolls under the nearby bed. The rest are curled up and in like spiders after they die of starvation.
He’s caused his fair share of bloodshed but this—
Trophies…
Cadence’s tears gather and the world goes blurry at his eyes. From rage, from disgust, from incredulity…
He rips his glasses off and shatters them in his fist.
To the Elders of the Garden District Coven, Carlo de la Rosa was at the center of the city’s vampire community. If they weren’t of his blood they owed him in one form of another — Cadence is proof of that.
He was old, powerful, and connected. He had to go.
To the malevolent specter of Derek Reimonenq, Carlo was a threat. Not just as the leader of the vampires of New Orleans but on a personal level as well. In the months following his death Reimonenq’s wife and daughter inherited more than his legacy — they inherited his debts too.
He was as remorseless as he was undead. He had to go.
The Elders witnessed firsthand the rapid rise to power of Denna Ostrowski; a shapeshifter rumored to have had over a hundred forms under her pelt. To the mundane world she was new money investing in the rich history of Louisiana. And money opens many doors — even among the supernatural.
She had her hands steeped in the cauldrons of both worlds. She had to go.
Only Denna came to town long after The Bloody Hand had been dealt with — near forgotten.
That didn’t stop her from learning as much as she could about the history of the Council; from allies to enemies. Learning where they lived, where they died, and where they had hidden every rotten putrid trophy hand.
It was a part of the past best left forgotten yet that didn’t stop Denna from destroying them all the way down to the bone. And for that her days were numbered.
Though they didn’t know it the Elders and their ghoulish pet saw eye-to-eye when it came time to level that gaze on Tonya Reimonenq. They called her Lady Smoke because those who ran afoul of her always disappeared without a trace.
Poof — gone like smoke.
She never asked for her gift; the Reimonenq Curse. But she took it and she used it without shame or guilt. Made a show of keeping her touch under expensive wrappings but everyone knew the truth.
She liked having such power; control over who lived and who died. And despite being of Derek Reimonenq’s decaying flesh and molded blood, Tonya had turned herself into a target — made herself a creature more than she ever was a human being.
“I was the one who brought him in front of the Council,” Cadence says without regret, without remorse; “I kept him from going into hiding. If I hadn’t gone to him that night the Garden Coven may very well have never found him.”
Cal frowns. “I thought you said he couldn’t be accused and punished. Which I still can’t make a lick’a sense of.”
“In the eyes of the Accords both sides were at fault — for different things, but equally guilty of knowing the laws and consciously choosing to break them.”
“What did the Coven do?”
The vampire shifts in discomfort.
“The girls Derek burned weren’t born into the families that made up their ranks at the time. The Elders back then had plans to blood them fully — sort of like an initiation you can’t back out of — but they were brought into the city from outside covens before it was done.”
“To put it plain they brought enemies onto Quarter soil,” explains Katherine with a tired rub of her eye.
Cal throws his glance back to Taylor and Vera and matches their confusion.
“I’m missin’ somethin’. ‘Cause no offense but I can’t see a guy like Elric agreeing to put kids to death over bein’ somewhere they shouldn’t’ve.”
“You’re right — Elric knew the girls were smuggled into town. The whole Council did, actually. Given the circumstances they agreed to turn a blind eye.” When he’s met with a silence that screams for him to keep going Cadence does, though the reluctance is clear on his expression.
“Listen — I never met them personally. I only know what I do from rumor and that’s putting it lightly. But one person heard from another who heard from God-knows-who-else that the girls all shared the same power—could do the same thing in the craft, you know?
“It was said they could remove free will. I don’t know how, or if it was wild speculation or the truth watered down. Even I laughed when the story reached far down enough to my rung on the ladder. Nothing of the natural world — be it magic or sensation or psychic connection — can truly take away all resistance to command. Even my kind, while connected to our Makers on a deep and intimate level, can resist their influence if we do so with all of our being.
“None of this mattered though. The Coven may have concealed their nature but everyone could put two and two together.”
“No one thought they were gonna try somethin’ shifty?” asks Nik. Cadence shakes his head.
“One of the Elders had a natural gift of his own; he could sever the witch from their ability to practice the craft. It was clear that was their plan — that the city didn’t have to worry. They just couldn’t do so until after being blooded into the Coven.
“I think most of us just felt sorry for them.” Doesn’t stare at the carpet underfoot but through it; both in the room with them and some place he thought he had left far behind. “I did. All around the country young men had been sent off to war and returned home empty husks, if they returned at all. There was a sort of cultural agreement that didn’t need words: children and their innocence was worth protecting.”
Kathy’s hand hovers over his before making a decision, offering contact to ground the man to the present. But the smile he gives her is hollow. The memories still haunt him — maybe they always will.
“Derek Reimonenq didn’t agree,” he continues to everyone’s surprise, “not that anyone expected him to. Neither did the Bayou Alpha but the war didn’t even give her back a body to bury, so she fell in with the rest. Everyone figured he would air his grievances and follow through as he usually did… bottle in hand.
“It’s the only time I can remember that the Council tried to find a flaw in their own laws. They wanted to convict him — everyone was demanding justice. But rather than two trials and needless punishment on the side of the Coven the only solution they could all agree on was a clean slate.”
“Which didn’t sit well with the witches,” Vera rests her hand on her racing heart like that will help — it doesn’t, “so they Cursed him. And all the Reimonenq blood ‘longside.”
Cadence nods tight-lipped; has said more than he thought he would have to and more than he wished to if his tension is anything to go by.
“Makes sense, now.”
Nik’s fingertips are warm on Taylor’s scalp. They card through his hair as if to remind them both they are here; that it’s all come down to this.
“Those Elder bastards were targetin’ power in the city but somehow usin’ Derek’s spirit gave it an agenda. Carlo for the past, Denna for revenge on his stuff — can’t say I blame it for hatin’ Smoke but —”
“And how exactly did I piss off ‘The Bloody Hand?’” Taylor asks in bewilderment. Nothing about the casual way the man shrugs reassures him.
“Dunno — you were convenient?”
“And we’re back to that now.”
“Sometimes a spade is a spade is a spade,” his mouth twists with deep thought, “though now we know why it wasn’t houndin’ on us the second you were outside a ward. They gave it a hit list but it chose the order.”
No one responds — what is there to say? Sure it’s satisfying to finally know, to understand.
But does it change anything?
It has to. Otherwise The Fate wouldn’t have led him on this; the altered path.
“This is good — this is a really good thing.”
The incredulity and judgment that bears down on Katherine isn’t personal — she knows that. More than that she doesn’t care. Not with the wry look she’s sending Ryder’s way. “Damn,” she laughs dryly, “it might actually be the only time in all this weird crap that things might work in our favor.”
“How d’ya mean?”
“You said it yourself; a spade’s a spade. Think about it, Nik — finally this is just a job like any other. Just creatures following their nature.”
A look of understanding comes over his weary features. “So maybe it’s time we follow ours, you mean.”
Like she’s reading his mind Vera speaks up where Taylor still struggles to connect the dots; “For the class, guys?”
Kathy’s smile is a rare thing. Rare and unnerving.
“We do what Nighthunters do best; we hunt.”
Even with everything he’s seen and endured the sight of rusted cemetery gates still form knots in his belly; dread and memory all tied up with the knowledge that at the end of the day he’s just as vulnerable here and now as he was that first night.
And you know what doesn’t help? Being in the Garden District again; that doesn’t help.
Being so close to their enemies — those literally plotting to kill them with more than one attempt under their witchy robes — that doesn’t help.
But it must be done. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Katherine had said while hoisting a rusted toolbox from its shelf in Cadence’s office, “since it’s proven already it can attack us anywhere — wards or no.”
“There aren’t any protection measures we can take?” Vera had asked; though they were all sure that if there was an answer they would have found it by now.
“Find a god and pray.”
That the cemetery is largely untouched is a miracle. Not for fear of ghosts and the scary stories tour guides like Tilly tell but for the fact that tourists usually just don’t give a damn.
Then again this is the closest cemetery to the Coven. That has something to do with it no doubt.
Cadence leads them through the dark and winding paths — Cal bringing up the rear. “No flashlights,” the vampire had insisted, “the moment we trespass is the moment the mundane authorities become just as much a threat as the witches.”
Lucky they have a vampire and a werewolf on their team then. Precision hunters pretty much known for their ability to see at night.
They keep close-knit ranks but let’s be honest; they’re about as subtle as the Scooby Gang would be in this scenario.
A joke he will not be saying within earshot of Cal if Taylor values his life.
Though the vampire insists—almost too much—that he hasn’t been to the Reimonenq crypt since Derek was put there almost a century ago he sure knows his way easy enough.
“Are you sure you’re okay with us doing this; vandalizing your family crypt?” Taylor asks Vera, because this just feels awkward especially with her here. And if she says stop you better know they will be stopping.
But nope; it’s all good. “I’m only frustrated I can’t get us in myself.”
They come to a stop — abruptly, like jostled dominoes — in front of an old stone grave.
Any other day Taylor would have walked right by it; dismissed it for another piece of city history made illegible from erosion over time. But through the greenish muck and years of wear, maybe because he knows what he’s looking for, it’s there.
REIMONENQ
“Mourn not the dead, but those burdened to continue living.”
His heart sinks at the inscription beneath Vera’s family name — chances a glance her way, ready to offer what little comfort he can.
Her eyes scream of hatred but he can feel beneath the surface. All that anger stemming from a place of hurt, of loss; of regret. Hatred at the bones they hope to find within and regret for every life that could have been spared in the aftermath of him.
Cadence motions for Cal to help him strongarm the front slab.
“Wait,” says Vera through the stones in her throat and the tears in her eyes she refuses to shed, “gimme a second.”
Katherine holds her breath — thinks better of pointing out that they may not have a second to spare. They know; Vera knows.
But she also deserves this.
She removes her left glove while approaching the crypt. They step back, give her a wide berth and not just for her sake.
Fingers stretched as far and forward as they’ll go Vera lays her palm on the surface. Pushes with a fruitless effort but it probably isn’t the physical barrier she’s forcing back. At least that’s not what Taylor feels in her soul.
“When I was a lit’le girl Momma told me we didn’ have the luxury of choosin’ whether or not to be killers. That day I vowed to myself to be the first — to keep the Touch from ever takin’ a life so long as I held it.
“I was fifteen when she tricked me into usin’ it on a man — staged it like I was savin’ her life by taking another. And I’ll never forgive her for it.”
Taylor feels his heart begin to crumble, then crash into a deep dark sea in chunks as tears roll down her cheeks.
“But she proved something to me that day —” she continues, “— she proved she was right. That so long as we had the Touch we would be killers whether we wanted to or not. She may have tried to make me a hero but no one who can do what we do could ever be one.
“But here—lookin’ at this grave, knowin’ what I know and all that The Bloody Hand did? I don’t feel guilty anymore. I finally realize that I really never had a choice.
“It was always gonna be in my nature.”
Cal’s knuckles crack hollow in the silent cemetery. Cade averts his ruby eyes, swipes his tongue over the hint of a fang.
If anyone here can understand her, it’s them.
“That’s what makes him so evil,” Vera tugs on her glove with jerking frustration; and not for the first time turns her back on the name REIMONENQ, “he had a choice an’ he chose to kill. And I ain’t gonna forget that — no matter how ‘tortured’ his soul is supposed to be.
“Those Elders ain’t in the right in what they’ve done but he wouldn’t have been their weapon had he not chosen to do great evil first.”
Not a rallying cry or solemn eulogy — but her intent is clear.
No sympathy for the bloodwraith.
No sympathy for Derek Reimonenq.
Ryder insists on proceeding with caution—still a statement Taylor’s trying to wrap his head around to be honest—and earns Katherine’s grumbled agreement that they should at least check for remnants of the Elders’ visit.
Cal spots a couple of markings drawn in chalk by the base that set teeth and fangs on edge but ultimately Kathy concludes they’re nothing more than lay-hexes; the witch equivalent of spitting on someone and cursing them to burn in Hell. A bit ominous but not meant to guard the abandoned tomb.
Which, frankly, leaves Taylor more than a little unsettled.
“If they saw no need to enchant it, does that mean there’s nothing inside we can use?”
Nik shakes his head and steps back, allows the two creatures among them to really give in to that nature of theirs and pry the weathered granite from its seal.
“First thing any hunter does when dealin’ with the hereafter is t’learn about the life of the haunting dead. We got the life story and we got how he died —”
“Step two is consecrate whatever bones can be found.” Katherine finishes.
A groan of resistance cuts off with a loud THUD, the noise bouncing from crypt to crypt definitely more than loud enough to awaken the dead. Nice timing to start regretting not bringing Ivy along.
Cade props the front plate on the side of the structure, waves his hand at the irritating dust and sand set off from their force.
It must be nice not to have to breathe, Taylor would say — if he wasn’t hacking his lungs out and praying there isn’t any powdered body on his tongue.
When it settles and they can properly peer inside — the good news is that aren’t any corpses that might make him lose his nerve. One more fainting spell and Taylor might just have to live in shame in the backwoods of the Bayou.
The bad news, though, is also that there aren’t any corpses; rather a large black hole stretching into a void. Darker than the night around them, practically made of nothing.
The vampire sighs and pushes up his glasses. “It’s a small stairwell,” then looking back to Vera, “I know you aren’t to blame in the least but… there’s a reason no one has a basement in Louisiana.” Judging by the look she throws his way it’s better that she takes the high road and doesn’t comment.
“I can’t smell any water rot,” Cal sniffs the air again and the face he makes might as well curl the ends of his hair, “but there’s definitely dead things below.”
“Wow, dead things in a crypt, who would’a guessed?”
“Hey Ryder?”
“Yeah Kujo?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
There’s only enough space for them to go one at a time; and even that is being generous. Taylor can’t help but try to imagine the dignified Elder Daniels in her power-suit crawling into this muck — or Elder Vion hobbling through like a bag of bones.
Kathy volunteers Cadence to go first — an act the vampire looks like he objects to strongly. “Tall people aren’t really made for small —”
But it isn’t his height the huntress is concerned over; a revelation spurned by how she shoves him through the passage—crawlspace, really—and holds her breath as if waiting for something to happen.
Nothing does. “The inside isn’t bespelled. You can come out now if you want.”
If Cade could turn his head he would no doubt be glaring wildly. “Why bother, I’m already inside!” He seethes but takes cautious steps into the tomb, then into the earth.
Vera goes next, and of her own volition.
“Anyone else worried about the amount of oxygen down there?” And it’s such a clear opening for Nik to take a shot at the werewolf but Cal does have a point — while also looking a little green in the face.
So he and Katherine stay up top to guard the rather obvious and gaping hole in what should be a sealed grave. And for the sake of conserving breathing room, can’t forget that.
Nik’s hand is warm, solid as it coaxes him at his lower back. Only a few steps in he feels the drop of the descent. Waits until what little light from outside is obscured by the bodyguard at his back before he begins the journey down.
Down into the not-so-final not-quite-at-rest place of Derek Reimonenq.
Cal was right; there is a body down here.
But—and he’s just spitballing here really—he’s like… a little pretty-damn-sure it isn’t the guy who’s been dead for 98 years.
Ninety five, ninety four percent certain.
As he finishes igniting the last of the half-burned candle circle Cadence pockets his lighter and stands — doesn’t even have to hunch over. It had felt like they were walking for an hour in the pitch black but maybe he wasn’t that far off.
It’s not a tomb like anyone buried would have a tomb; more a room made sturdy with brick and mortar to do one purpose — and not even for forever. The candles have to be a new fixture courtesy of the Coven Elders and whatever hellish ritual they performed. Even the ground beneath them still holds traces of their visit; looks like Elder Daniels got her heel stuck in some as-yet unpacked dirt.
Derek Reimonenq’s body is probably supposed to be on the waist-height stone slab in the middle. Only it isn’t.
But someone’s is.
Ryder’s hand ghosts over yellow chalk marks on the walls. He pulls back a fingertip of the powder residue and gives it a little sniff; instantly regrets it with a recoil.
“Sulfur,” and he smears it back on the brick feeling desperately unclean.
Cadence joins Vera in looking up to where something large catches the reflection of the flames. He’s just tall enough to reach and brush the surface with a touch. “Looks like a quartz geode… I think I’ve read somewhere that halite can be cast to ward away weathering.”
“Explains why this place wasn’t swallowed up in Katrina,” agrees Nik.
There’s a long moment of silence before Taylor just can’t take it anymore.
“Is no one else gonna mention the dead corpse?”
Cadence snorts. “As opposed to the living one?”
Not what he meant.
But as the rest of the room’s oddities had been deduced the only logical progression was to the young woman laid to rest in a grave that isn’t hers. Maybe wasn’t supposed to be.
That she hasn’t shown any signs of decay isn’t even the strangest thing. No, that would be the pile of bleached-white bones serving as her funeral bed. Definitely more than what one human body should be made up of — but who says it’s human?
The almost medical distance with which Nik studies the long gash across her throat—not scabbed over but not bleeding, either, simply open—has Taylor looking away in discomfort.
While Vera may not have been initially as shocked as he, though, she keeps her distance beside him. “She’s so young…”
“Eighteen, maybe a tad less,” Cadence shrugs off the way they stare at him, “I tried out medicine a ways back, I think I can date a body.”
“Then how long has she been dead?”
“That’s the misleading part — but I think we have the halite ward to thank for that. Context included—I’d say she died the same night as Carlo de la Rosa.”
Vera sucks in a breath. “It killed her, too?”
“No, she doesn’t look like the other bodies.” Nik grunts and stands, wipes dirt from his palms and grabs one of the bones from under the girl’s knee to study it closely. “Conjuring the wraith — pulling Reimonenq’s spirit from the Veil, that’s some heavy necromancy, the kind you have to have in your blood. It could be one of the Elders but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say she’s our born Necromancer.”
Why is it that with everything he’s seen Taylor still has a hard time looking into her face, soft and so very still, and imagining her bringing that much evil into the world?
Ryder uses the bone to drag a wide circle around the dais in the dirt; follows the path just inside the candles and forces the other three back against the walls. “The Elders stood in a triangle — see the concentration of steps — and she did the summoning over the altar. When they were done… she wasn’t of any use to them and and had to go.”
“But she was one of their own,” Taylor protests, “they keep talking about how they’re trying to protect their Coven — she had to have been one of them right?”
It’s a heavy thought. Makes the air in the room feel a little thinner. Cal was right there isn’t enough for them down here.
“Come Hell and High Waters,” says Cade; and he probably means well but those words make him feel sick to his stomach now — some of that ends justifying the means bullshit.
“A sacrifice of one for the survival of the many. I wonder if they told her… that what she was doing was the right thing.”
“The right — they murdered her. There’s no way that’s right.”
“You’re questioning their morality now?”
Taylor falters. He has a point.
There’s just so much grief building up inside his chest he feels like his lungs might burst out of him. A terrible loss; losing himself, losing faith in something, losing trust and truth and…
And where the hell is this coming from?
I can’t breathe. Clutching his hand to his chest, heart seconds away from giving out, that familiar burn of breathing in too hard—too much. “I can’t breathe.”
Before he can collapse Vera helps ease him down to his knees, Nik suddenly at his side hands hovering — unsure of what to do, how to help, but filled with the desperate need to do something because feeling useless is a thundercloud gathering overhead.
“Rook—Rook breathe. I — what’s wrong? Can you talk? Talk to me Taylor, please —”
“Give him some space, Ryder.”
“Do you not see him having a panic attack?”
He gathers enough energy to rasp out only once; “Hey—huff—Nik—huff—backthehelloff!”
And because he can’t say it again he just waves Vera away with heavy slaps of his hands. He doesn’t mean to hurt her. Only to get his point across.
The breathing room they give helps a little. Not enough. Doesn’t stop the feelings he’s feeling or the confusion about those feelings.
They wait in silence while his panic subsides. Maybe it wouldn’t take so long if he understood what had caused it; but he’s met with nothing but patience and a whole lot of concern on Nik’s end.
When Taylor reaches out with a shaky hand it’s immediately grabbed; his entire being tethered to that one act. Nik squeezes first, he squeezes back.
His gaze drifts over the leather-clad shoulder to the body on the stone slab and… and he understands.
“I’m feeling her.” The aching grief twisting in his gut like a rusty knife, the purposelessness, the betrayal. “It—she—is everywhere in here. She’s suffocating.”
“She’s dead, Rook.”
“I mean her emotions—her soul. She wants to be known. She wants to be grieved.”
“So grieve her,” Cadence says, “however you can, you must. If you’re feeling that strong of an empathic connection there must be a reason why. It could tell us something we don’t know—something crucial.”
Taylor hopes to see some sort of confident support when he looks to Nik for help — but the worry is staggering. That makes it better, somehow; genuine.
“You don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want,” his voice is quiet; hiding the scratch of emotion in his throat where his Adam’s apple bobs.
If only it were that simple.
On shaky legs he stands, makes his way to the altar where Cadence gives him a wide berth and waves for the others to do the same. Nik looks ready to stand by his side no matter what happens. He will, too. But he shakes his head, whispers “it’s okay,” and lets their touch linger until he’s too far to reach.
There’s no manual on this kinda crap — hopefully he doesn’t need one. He doesn’t think he does.
No… he doesn’t feel like he does. Which is apparently different now; a thing to worry about later.
Taylor inhales and brushes a trembling touch along the soft curve of her copper cheek.
“You swore a sacred oath to your Coven in blood, dear girl.”
Elder Vion’s voice rasps in his ear. Makes Taylor want to recoil out of a bygone terror. He’s half a step back when he remembers Nik is there and the Elder is not. And stands still.
“No one else would have you Cassiopeia. We took you in, gave you our protection.”
“We gave you a family — a home.”
Then an unfamiliar voice among them; young and trusting and tired—so very tired, dragged out of her bed in the middle of the night.
“Of course, Elder Millet, a-and I’m grateful! Please, please…”
“All of these things without expectation of repayment. Because our kind must stand together — must straddle the worlds of both dark and light and know balance in them.”
“You have been cursed, darling girl. But today we will turn that curse into a blessing.”
“But you made me promise —”
Then the feeling changes — grows old and damp and determined to do good by those who took care of her, by those who loved her.
The bones of a persecuted witch. Of three. The last three to fall victim to The Bloody Hand and the ones to call him forth from the hereafter.
They bind him in torment, in hellfire unseen.
The sight of them, knowledge that she could be one of them, makes her skin crawl.
Elder Daniels watches ever-present at her back as Elder Vion finishes the rite of conjuring; sprinkles the last of the dry spell over the bones. The mandrake powder tickles her nose. She holds her breath and prays not to sneeze.
The ochre within stains the bones her favorite shade of orange; the burned hue of a Bayou sunset. But combined with the flakes of iridescent mica that catch in the candlelight — the spell takes hold of the bones and claims them for their use. Leaves them a bright, almost bleached white as the powders are absorbed into the long-gone marrow.
Cassiopeia looks to her left for Elder Millet’s familiar motherly smile. It gives her calm and hope — reminds her of all the other fostered witches they are acting in faith for tonight.
This is what she was born for. This is why she was abandoned; because the Garden Coven was meant to find her.
She’s meant to do this; use her curse. This is how she’s going to repay them for all they’ve done for her.
“Cassiopeia, sweetheart,” Elder Millet doesn’t move—can’t move—from her spot in the triquetra; coaxes her forward still with a nod of her chin, “whenever you’re ready.”
A hasty nod; then she takes one final moment to steel herself and her nerves.
She’s meant for this.
The sulfur powder itches at her palms but Cassie resists the urge to scratch. Spreads her fingers wide and hears a pop in her thumbs as she reaches over and above the ritual bones.
On the other side of the altar comes the thud. thud. thud of Elder Vion’s walking staff on the ground a this feet. The candle flames around them flicker — almost to death.
Then comes the slow and throated chanting of Vion’s native tongue. The flames begin to grow.
The young witch buries that last shred of doubt way deep inside and trusts her protectors.
“Claw and blood, claw and bone.
Bloodied flesh, endless stone…”
A whispered wind overcomes them. Fills the room warm near her toes and chilly to the touch.
Around the crypt it circles round and round — and grows.
“Soar with the zephyr, shriek with the crow.
Life renewed I now bestow…”
She can’t quite tell if the shaking in her hands is the growing itch, her nerves, or the power of the spell. Nothing worth the reason to stop.
“My darkest will with blackened vein
Unto this rotted soul I chain.”
“Again!” Elder Daniels commands. A tone that takes none but obedience.
“Claw and blood, claw and bone.
Bloodied flesh, endless stone.
Soar with the zephyr, shriek with the crow.
Life renewed I now bestow.
My darkest will with blackened vein
Unto this rotted soul I chain!”
“Again!”
“I—I’m trying!”
“Try harder! Millet!”
“Cassiopeia you can’t break the chant. You can do it, I know you can!”
The whirlwind threatens to catch her voice and steal it from her lungs. Rattles the bones that stay together because they cannot imagine being apart — even in death. Hands stained with the sulfur’s ire and Cassie squeezes her eyes shut to keep it from getting in her eyes.
“Claw and blood! Claw and bone!
Bloodied flesh! Endless stone!”
“It’s working! Jean—the knife!”
“You’re doing so good Cassie—we’re almost there!”
“My darkest will with blackened vein!
Unto this rotted soul I chain!”
Taylor chokes on his own air; can feel the icy bite of the blade dragged across his throat. Sharp—so sharp it’s barely a pinprick but the wound left in its wake spills warm and wet down his front into his clothes soaking the ground taken in by the dirt and given a home here, below, in this awful place.
Ichor of the innocent to bind and control.
Before he can fall backwards Nik is there; familiar and solid and so so steady against the violent shaking that overcomes him.
He can still feel her— forces everything inside him to will himself not to see what happened next. Knows what was born from her spell, her devotion to the Elders, and her sacrifice.
Cassiopeia.
“She trusted them,” the words hang thick and dry on Taylor’s tongue, “she trusted them and they told her she was doing something good… she felt like she owed them.”
“And repaid that debt with her life…” Vera looks away; suddenly can’t stand to look at her.
Nik helps him back on his feet, brushes a hand through his hair and he leans into the warmth of it. Feels so cold now that the hot sting of Cassiopeia’s anguish is gone from him. Pulled out as if by a rusted hook embedded in his gut.
“Was it Reimonenq that did this to her?” asks Cade, who drags his finger along the curling edges of her wound.
“No, no… Elder Daniels, I think, was the one who sacrificed her.”
Nik frowns. “Why would you sacrifice the one doin’ the damn ritual?”
“The power in a ritual is beheld by the caster, obviously. With her death the entire thing should have been rendered null. But we all know that not to be the case.”
A strange look comes over the vampire’s expression for a moment; lips pursed thinly. He doesn’t look up from the body as he waves towards Vera. “Can you come here a moment? Take your glove off.”
“What? No!”
“Relax, you won’t be Touching me. I need you to Touch the witch’s hand.”
She looks between them all, Cassie’s body included, as if hoping one of them will speak up. “I won’t be Touchin’ anyone because I won’t do it. It’s too risky, especially here all… all cramped.”
“Please.”
Vera pleads at him silently. Taylor can feel her panic icy and crisp at the back of his throat. So he asks; “What do you think will happen?”
“If I’m correct,” whether he steps away from the altar and simply gestures, giving Vera space, is for her sake or his own is a mystery, “then nothing will happen at all.”
That it’s a risk he’s willing to take on behalf of Vera—that he isn’t the one doing the Touching and is all the more insistent anyway—is worrisome. But he’s their friend; they’re all in this together.
That—and the fact that if Katherine were down here she’d already be tugging Vera and her cursed hand forward without hesitation.
Curiosity, survival; whichever wins out it doesn’t matter. Not that it keeps the unfortunate inheritor of her family name from doing so slowly. As if trying to talk herself out of agreeing up until the last second.
“Which hand?”
“Either one will do,” then when her fingertips are a hair’s breadth away— “I seem to recall Derek wasn’t picky.”
Taylor wonders—quietly, in his head, and very much to himself—when the last time Vera actually touched another human was. Was there some sort of coming-of-age trigger for the curse? Or could she have been putting all the other toddlers on the playground at risk should she have decided to pull off her gloves and play tag?
Too long ago, the obvious answer. Obvious when Vera covers Cassiopeia’s hand first in fingertips — then her entire palm.
They wait. Nothing happens.
She shakes off her wrist—like this is something she’s at fault for—and tries again. Pushes this time enough to jostle the poor young sacrifice.
Again, nothing.
There’s a collective sigh of relief. All eyes on Cadence for answers, explanations, anything?
Nope. He just nods, as distantly academic as ever.
“So what does this mean?” Nik finally asks.
The last time he started rolling up his sleeves, Taylor witnessed Cadence’s transformation into some kind of merciless brute; a monster. Is it any wonder the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he sees it again?
“It means I’m going to need something that can cut through bone.”
#nightbound#choices nb#playchoices#nik ryder x mc#nik ryder#cal lowell#vera reimonenq#katherine nightbound#oc: cadence smith#nightbound mc#mc: taylor hunter#oblv: bound by circumstance#oblv: new chapter#; my fics#cassiopeia
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Michael After Midnight: Heathers
Heathers is a film that in some ways has not aged well, due to the plot involving bringing guns to school, murdering bully classmates, and an attempted terrorist attack on a high school by an angry, disaffected white boy. Back when this came out in the 80s, there was far less concern about things like school shootings, so this film could play these things up for black comedy rather than try to portray it seriously. But really, this is one of those rare occasions where it’s actually true to say “a film like this could never be made today!”
And it’s a real shame too, because beneath the pitch black comedy and dark subject matter there is a lot of solid, resonant messages and a plot that actually deconstructs the shallow view imitators and even some fans have of it.
I think perhaps the most important thing this movie did was show high school as it is: a miserable, shitty pile of cliques and unhappy teenagers struggling to make it through a single day without desperately wishing for their untimely demise. There is rampant bully, belittling, lies, slander, cruel pranks… this movie doesn’t waste any time sugarcoating things. And while yes, some things are played up for dark laughs, I can confirm myself that the cruel and miserable atmosphere of this film’s high school is barely off base from reality. I think just about the only thing lacking in realism is the fact that a guy like J.D. wasn’t called to the office on day one and grilled extensively by the principal, but hey, it was the 80s.
Another thing is how this movie deconstructs its core concept as the film goes on. Everything is set up as a movie where the miserable, bullied, browbeaten Veronica rises up with her handsome new boyfriend and strikes back at the nasty bullies in her high school, killing them off one by one. Fuck yeah! Revenge is awesome! Except… it isn’t. It’s shown that, as awful as these people they killed were, they still had families and friends who loved them, they had so many people who cared, and even if that wasn’t enough the way they set up their deaths as tragic suicides only goes to make them martyrs, rendering the vengeance hollow as in death all their sins in life are erased and ignored and people look far more fondly on them. Hell, by framing the jerk jocks as gay lovers killing themselves because they couldn’t openly be together, they managed to make a bunch of people in the late 80s be less homophobic! Need I remind you this was the decade in which the F-word was a pretty casual curse word instead of one of the absolute worst things you could possibly say? Their revenge was just that toothless.
And it all comes down to J.D. While he’s built up as this cool, rebellious figure bent on teaching society a lesson, as the film goes on it’s shown that even with all of his excuses, even with his shitty life, he’s still ultimately just a pathetic, angry, broken loner lashing out at the world around him without a care for who he hurts. Ultimately this is what helps drive Veronica away from him and reject his ideals. J.D. is a truly interesting villain; in many ways, he’s a prototype for Arthur Fleck from Joker, a broken man with a shitty home life who is driven to madness and murder because of the cruel, remorseless society he lives in; Christian Slater even seems to be doing his best Jack “The Joker” Nicholson impersonation in this film, even. And much like Fleck would decades later, J.D. shows that a shitty life never justifies atrocities, and for all the sympathy he can be afforded he definitely does cross the line, and the movie doesn’t really pretend otherwise.
This movie is filled with dark social satire of things like the sensationalizing of teen suicide, the awfulness of high school, the hollowness of revenge, and all of that, and yet it feels that far too many people take this movie at face value, viewing it as some sort of deranged power fantasy in which the bullies get what’s coming to them and their victims come out on top. I’m not sure where they get this idea because by the end of the film J.D. is dead, Veronica has survived but is fundamentally changed as a person, and all the people who bullied them are now forever remembered as tragic angels with their bad qualities brushed aside, because sometimes dead is better, as they say.
It’s interesting to note that the original ending of this movie would have been far darker than the ending we got, with the bomb going off and J.D.’s deranged worldview - “Let's face it, all right! The only place different social types can genuinely get along with each other is in heaven.” - being reaffirmed. I think that such an ending would have utterly ruined the film and made it a hard sell to anyone with a shred of decency. It would just be far too bleak and joyless, and not even in a fun way. It’s just depressing. The ending we got, where Veronica rejects J.D.’s insane bullshit and decides to live, is far more powerful and resonant.
This movie is such a brilliant deconstructive parody of 80s teen movies, shining a dark light on the less pleasant aspects of being a teenager while showing the futility of revenge, the baggage that comes with dating a quote-unquote bad boy, and sort of deranged mindset that would lead someone to think murdering their classmates could somehow make the world a better place… And yet so many fans take it at face value and just see at as “Wow! Cool revenge against the bullies story!” This movie is so much more than that, and to reduce it down into something s tacky, tasteless, and just plain not what it is at all is disturbing, to say the least. Let me put it this way: if Heathers actually was what some of its fans believe it is, I would probably agree that the movie shouldn’t exist.
But thankfully the movie isn’t that; it’s an absolutely brilliant dark comedy and an 80s classic. If you can stomach some truly dark and unpleasant subject matter and laugh at some really fucked up things, this is the movie for you, though I really hope you can use your critical thinking skills and not come out thinking J.D. had a point. It’s a fucked up movie about fucked up people showing the dark underbelly of high school and the society that produces that dark underbelly, and in that regard it excels. It’s the perfect cup of drain cleaner to wash down all those John Hughes movies.
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Only If For a Night (RK800-60 x reader)
TLDR: You let yourself succumb to this but he isn’t the one you want...
Word Count: 2403
TW: Angst, Light Smut
Fantasy overshadows people’s lives to the point of forgetting what reality is. For a few hours you forget tangling amid sheets twisting around two beings falling into one another. Long shadows dancing a ballet across wall created a scene of veiled intimacy.
Mingling in the soft cotton your body sinks under power of hot flesh and shuddering breaths. It is unruly, desperate and needful. A lust consumed by selfish decisions. A lust that you want elsewhere but writhing beneath him satiated your craving.
Closing your eyes opens a floodgate of emotions that not only fool you but him. Consciously blinding yourself gave you what you want. If you can’t see the truth does it count?
It feels good in the moment. Wrapping yourself up into his toned body, hands sweeping your skin, kisses wet and sucking hard over your pulse. A track mark on your flesh reminds you when sinking back to reality.
All you feel now is disgust. Inhibited in the bed you chose but the thrill comes to a screeching halt when it ends. Dancing images of swaying branches form through frosty window pane in a waking crescendo tugging you back and creating a most impressive show across room in place of your previous shadow play.
It certainly held better interest than what you no longer want glued like a second skin, a scab to pick off and discard. You think dropping him off in a landfill will be a better end for you both.
Tilting head away and staring at the spot on the bedroom wall didn’t prevent him gathering arms around your body. Holding on and pressing up into bare back like a starving kitten craving warmth from its mother. Sappy, you think, fawning over you and making you shift to untangle. It isn’t enough to relay your disinterest.
He places a flurry of kisses into neck and against shoulder. Skimming every inch of your skin he can find, to taste how delicious you were to his sensors. Clutching on with an eager giddiness almost and you wonder if they even become giddy. They claim to feel so many things once deviant and you believe that but this isn’t reawakening any passion. It only furthers your ire as it twists in your expression bathed in a steady blue glow for once tonight until you can no longer stand pretending.
You shrug forcibly. Dislodging from his ministrations, your breath seethes through teeth. “Stop it,” your voice is throaty in irritation in place of pleasure.
One thing you never asked for is cuddling. All you asked for is sex nothing more, nothing less. Straight to the point which only led you astray because it is too good. Sicker than you started and realizing that pushes your anger out against him.
Two to tango is a stupid saying. You won’t believe in it. Not for this phony construct. The only person you want true affection from, to hold and kiss you all over is – Connor.
Instead, this is where you find yourself giving him what he wants when you never wanted him yourself.
A flood of crimson burns his temple next. Syncing in stressful flickers reveals his deepest insecurities. Even after experiencing a long night of passionate sex with you his frown betrays doubt.
You make him this way. How can he love something that makes him hate what he is not? The android’s expression fell into what you think is a pitiless frown.
“Y/N…”
Dragging in a whine almost turned your name into a simpering invocation wishing to bring him what he desires. Calling upon a higher power did not answer because nothing would change your true feelings towards him.
The flashing red crests over your cheek as he leans closer. It’s a sign for how lost he looks but you ignore it. Keeping your back facing him both avoids witnessing and showing your disgust. A small mercy that you feel is enough.
So weak in his infatuation and you lead him on to fulfill what you can’t have. Allowing their identical model to push this hot burn through veins coiled you together in a night of passion. You pretended from the moment you came to him. He assumed he won your affection.
Repeating your name in a silent prayer, his lips press hopeful again to warm skin. Another nudge answers to tear down his dream of holding you tightly and whispering sweetly against ear. Was it just fantasy now or from the start he is simply deluded.
“Leave me alone.” Warning him in a scoff is kinder than what swirls in your brain. Separating entirely pushes you up to sit as covers yank in your hands. Moving away towards farthest side of bed becomes a cruel torture. Of course you knew that it would be. This is what he asked for. He deserves it for not being Connor.
Is it not your choice? Were you not the one who came to him, begging for his touch mere hours ago? Swallowing any trace of a conscience gives you power over your emotions. It’s too late for that. Sadly you know.
RK800-60 reaches out in a final attempt to bring you back into his arms. Stretching fingers up to caress collarbone, he wants to bury his face in your neck to drink in this longing you curse him with.
“Please, look at me. I want nothing more. We… Y/N, we made love.”
His voice turns forceful, hoping to conjure enough of himself to stop falling back to his pre-deviated remorselessness. It draws close under his surface as he fights.
You find it uninteresting. Paying no attention to the fissures cracking in the android sinking before you there’s only that ‘L’ word making your insides churn. Love is something that you crave. Itching beneath skin, harboring deep in your tissue and turning insides like a scalding iron. Plaintive delusions believing he can fan this flame. His head is full of misconceptions involving your feelings.
No. An impenetrable need blooms for the real one. Not a mirror image that only became deviant by force, converted to prevent the end of a successful rebellion.
You knew of what happened. Before, during and after their revolution, you hear plenty of stories. All of that is before Connor came into your life. Wanting him in your life in a different way past the foundations of friendship didn’t come to fruition. The longer this ache grew the more you couldn’t wait to have him.
Settling for something that looks like him is both an all encompassing sin, lascivious in nature, speaking out to your inner most appetites. Lust is one of seven for a reason. It’s also a stupid mistake. Knowing full well that RK800-60 is in love with you didn’t stop you taking advantage.
“I would do anything to be the one to shelter, plant myself around you. Y/N, I will do and give anything to see you smile.” The android’s voice filters in glitches and shows what deviancy turns him to. No longer a raging storm but mawkish drone cut down in swells of humanity.
Tracing a forefinger along lips that didn’t upturn sent ripples of stress throughout system. This is far more than physical pain. His deviancy is not of his choice but it broke him in ways that he must hold onto.
Sixty, as you call him, craves this. All he can do is watch how you long for Connor. This moment he believes can be different. Finally, he won your affections but it unravels before the poor boy’s eyes.
“I will give anything. My own heart from my chest, the thirium pump I will rip it out for you. Please, Y/N, tell me what you want and I will do it! He wouldn’t do any of these things!”
You snap around to face him for the first time. All you want to do is make him feel what those words mean, palm connecting sharply with his chiseled cheekbone.
Immediately, you clasp your hand and lean back into headboard. Damn him! Damn him for making you react. A prick of tears threatens but you hold them in fiercely.
Cool hands came up in a flux to soothe immediately. Sixty felt everything as all deviants do. Even when you are the cause of his pain, he jumps to help ease yours. He suffers for this love but he still cannot allow you to.
Kissing atop knuckles to alleviate your pain laid his heart bare. You already caged his. If it must be crushed he will let you squeeze until it turns into dust. “I am sorry,” he murmured between tiny kisses. “I love you. I-I love you, Y/N. Please let me.”
A flicker of guilt shined in your eyes. The way he swoops in to caress and kiss you after hurting him is both sad and despicable.
Your eyes close to listen to him utter unwanted affections. Connor’s voice is identical in its raspy dulcet but there is still a difference with RK800-60 resonating with such unadulterated melancholy. It transcends from his longing that he assumes you gave into. You gave into your own pain.
Quickly you pull away along with the rest of your body sliding out of bed. Leaving him on purpose set you on a mission to pick up strewn clothes.
“Y/N, come back.”
“No,” you hissed. “I told you to leave me alone.”
“But I love you,” he insisted rougher this time. “Do you not know what I would sacrifice to achieve this!”
Shades of Cyberlife Tower, his menacing monologue pre-deviancy crept in clashing with his emotional overload. As an android it is too much! “Tonight we were together! Y/N!”
You pull around under a pair of strong hands unyielding in their clutch. RK800-60 loomed tall, pale picturesque and nude as the day he was created.
Your body shivers peering into his face the mirror image of Connor. God, why couldn’t it be him? Why can’t you stop herself from wanting to throw this pathetic fool onto his back and have your way with him again? It’s only his likeness fueling this incessant need. That’s what brought you to this in the beginning. There is nothing inside your heart for this imposter. He is a means of fulfilling something elusive and beautiful. If only for a night but now as far as you’re concerned it’s over.
“Let go,” you spat at him like a docile AX400. After his deviancy he might as well be. Absolutely nothing but a waste of artificial space, something to be scorned for looking like the very thing you can’t have. The fact this one loves you instead makes everything that much more hateful.
You hate him for what he is and what he made you do. “Get your hands off me. Or you’ll never see me again!”
RK800-60’s face became a canvas of anguish flickering as rapidly as his blazing red LED. Releasing your arms force him to fall further into the monster of unrequited love. Despite having you tonight he realizes it was only a game.
“Connor will never love you,” his voice grew static and resolute. “If he did he would have already seen what I saw. He will never give you all of himself as I will!”
Digging words into you didn’t help his chances. In fact it’s better to scoff now as you hastily pull clothes back on. “To think I let myself fall into your arms because I couldn’t wait…”
Your words are not hard to decipher. Twisting a knife to his artificial heart bled him dry to the truth he stubbornly ignores.
“You gave yourself to me because I am his twin!” The android’s voice trembles in fury. Blindly he allows himself to think once, just once, you want him. Little did he realize this is not born of confusion in your human feelings but out of pure cruelty to his! “You pretended I was Connor the entire time!”
Shaking a head took you several steps backwards at the ferocity tumbling out of him. It only reveals him as that terror sent to destroy; the one you only heard tales of. Those tales did him no good. He will never be Connor.
What did he think? How stupid is he to believe there is another reason. That’s on him isn’t it? You try to convince yourself it’s not your doing. He’s the one living an illusion.
“Please, Sixty,” the mocking breath pegs him for what he truly is. “As if you thought I chose to be in love with you when I first came here. This is exactly what you wanted. Don’t pretend you would’ve turned me away. I know you RK800-60.” Spitting a serial number answers everything you saw him as and it’s less than nothing.
He is a number just a duplicate of something more. That’s what he always will be and you’ll remind him with no regard to his so-called feelings. “I know your heart. It beats for me. But I don’t care. I don’t care about you because you’re not him.”
With that harsh reality you turn to bedroom door in a swift escape. All you leave behind is a broken android full of your thorns burrowing deep in his circuits. Staring where you left keeps him stiff until every seam snaps in his system. His body moves precise and indomitable searching for something to destroy.
Thrusting knuckles connect to wall and dent the plaster. Brittle against strength it sinks in easily similar to a caving skull. He watches in heated fascination. In his mind Connor’s head smashes to pieces.
Something burns in RK800-60’s eyes. The flood of rage consumes him, transforms him into that whirlwind at Cyberlife. He falls so easily. He falls because you were his but now you’re gone. All he wants is to destroy his ‘brother’ to make him feel what he feels.
So he plans. He plans to crush what you desire. Even if you will never obtain it the idea of it fuels him leading him astray to that very thing originally sent to snuff Connor’s existence.
Emotions are weakness. His are twisted by the grace of your rejection.
#dbh#rk800-60#rk800-60 x reader#detroit become human#dbh rk800-60#rk800#angst#dbh only if for a night#60 needed more screen time#he's 2nd place android bae tbh#android boyfriend material right there#which means i have to make him suffer apparently#evilreader
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Character memes ;
tagged by: stxrkillcr, kyloren-sithlord
Under a readmore cause long.
RULES !! Post a song that reminds you of your muse.
TYPE O NEGATIVE - BLACK NO. 1 (x)
She's in love with herself
She likes the dark
On her milk white neck
The Devil's mark
It's all Hallows Eve
The moon is full
Will she trick or treat
I bet she will
She's got date at midnight
With Nosferatu
Oh baby, Lilly Munster
Ain't got nothing on you
Well when I called her evil
She just laughed
And cast that spell on me
Boo Bitch Craft
Yeah you want to go out 'cause it's raining and blowing
You can't go out 'cause your roots are showing
Dye em black
Black no. 1
Little wolf skin boots
And clove cigarettes
An erotic funeral
For witch she's dressed
Her perfume smells like
Burning leaves
Everyday is Halloween
Loving you was like loving the dead
WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?
[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. grey green.
[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.
[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars (mental; physical). scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes.hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing.tattoos.
[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. whips. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pistol. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. words. bat.
[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. brass. copper. lead. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick.marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.
[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. river. meadow. lake. forest. desert. tundra .savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.
[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. mice. lizards. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats.
[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. tagged by: @stxrkillcr, @kyloren-sithlord . bubblegum. bread. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. condensed milk. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. rice. ambrosia. soup. stew. whiskey.
[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching.fighting. writing. composing. meditation. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games.computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. cassettes.piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. percussion. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. mahjong. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.
[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet.rings. pendant. hat. ballcap. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. robes. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.
[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. grief. happiness. optimism.realism. pessimism. legacy. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies.loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.
you can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to. put your mp3 player, itunes,spotify, etc. on shuffle & list the first 10 songs. no skipping !
KoRn - Way too far
Alice in Chains - When the sun rose again
Godsmack - Inside yourself
Linkin Park - Burn it down
Boy hits car - Love, fury, passion, energy
Jonathan Davis - Not meant for me
Slipknot - Duality
White zombie - Electric head
Dubstep - Terror Dome
Godsmack - Sick of life
RULES: bold the characteristics that apply to your muse !
CHARACTER STRENGTHS.
adaptable | adventurous | affectionate | ambitious | artistic | athletic | assertive | beautiful |brave | charming | clever | compassionate | confident | considerate | cooperative | courteous | creative | curious | decisive | dependable | determined | diplomatic | easy - going | enthusiastic | fair | fashionable | forgiving | friendly | fun - loving | funny | generous | gentle | hard - working | heroic | honest | hopeful | humble | imaginative | incorruptible | intelligent | intuitive | inventive | jocular | leader | lively | loving | loyal | merciful | musical | observant | open - minded | optimistic | organized | outgoing | passionate | patient | playful | polite | popular | practical | resourceful | self - assured | selfless | sensible | sincere | strong | studious | thoughtful | tough | versatile | warm - hearted | well - intentioned | wise | witty
CHARACTER FLAWS.
absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly obedient | blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | clingy | clumsy | cocky | competitive |corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent |depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic |fickle | finicky | flaky | frail | fraudulent | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hypochondriac | hypocritical |idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent | indecisive |insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy |ornery | overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessmist | petty | power-hungry | proud | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigorous | sadistic |sarcastic | senile | selfish | self-martyr | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled | stubborn | tactless |temperamental | timid | tone-deaf | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy | vain | withdrawn |workaholic
Repost! Don’t Reblog!
Last Movie I Watched: - Hostel
Last Song I Listened To Burn it down - Linkin Park
Last book I read: - Rogue One: A star wars story
Last Thing I Ate - Cereal
If You Could Be Anywhere Right Now - Does Kylo Ren’s bedroom count?
Fictional Character You Would Hang Out With For A Day - Kylo Ren. Shocking, I know.
#wow that was long as hell#I was betrayed ;#one more day of my short life (headcanons) ;#about teh mun#kyloren-sithlord#stxrkillcr
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RULES !! Post a song that reminds you of your muse and then
tag 6 people whose songs you want to see!
tagged by: @stillsolo
i come with knives - iamx
I always feel like this song was playing when he first became General, this is just such a fitting song for his rise to power. Every time I hear it I picture him making the speech before using Starkiller Base for the first time.
It was kinda hard to pick between this, Don’t Mess With Me by Temposhark or Volatile Times also by IAMX.
Kinder und sterne küssen und verlieren sich
Greifen leise meine hand und führen mich
Die traumgötter brachten mich in eine landschaft
Schmetterlinge flatterten durch meine seele
The paradox or our minds
Too much to believe, too much to deny
You fool me again to quiet my pride
But I’m a human, I come with knives
I never promised you an open heart or charity
I never wanted to abuse your imagination
I come with knives
I come with knives
And agony
To love you
Kinder und sterne küssen und verlieren sich
Greifen leise meine hand und führen mich
Die traumgötter brachten mich in eine landschaft
Schmetterlinge flatterten durch meine seele
In der mitternacht.
The monotony
And the rising tide
Is under my skin, is crawling inside
Adrenaline to rewire my mind
I'm only human, I come with knives
I never promised you an open heart or charity
I never wanted to abuse your imagination
I come with knives
I come with knives
And agony
I come with knives
I come with knives
To love you
And agony
To love you
With agony
I come with knives
With agony
To love you
Kinder und sterne küssen und verlieren sich
Greifen leise meine hand und führen mich
Die traumgötter brachten mich in eine landschaft
Schmetterlinge flatterten durch meine seele
In der mitternacht [x2]
In der mitternacht [x2]
WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?
[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. grey green.
[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.
[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars (mental; physical). scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing.tattoos.
[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. whips. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pistol. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. words. bat.
[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. brass. copper. lead. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.
[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. river. meadow. lake. forest. desert. tundra .savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.
[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. mice. lizards. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats.
[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. bread. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. condensed milk. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. rice. ambrosia. soup. stew. whiskey.
[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. meditation. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. percussion. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. mahjong. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.
[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet.rings. pendant. hat. ballcap. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. robes. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.
[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. grief. happiness. optimism. realism. pessimism. legacy. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.
TAGGED BY : @stillsolo
you can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to. put your mp3 player, itunes,spotify, etc. on shuffle & list the first 10 songs & then tag 10 people, no skipping !
REPOST & DON’T REBLOG !
1. Let’s Dance - David Bowie
2. Old Money - Lana Del Rey
3. Goner - Twentyone Pilots
4. Whatsername - Green Day
5. Six Shooter - Queens of the Stone Age
6. Flaws - Bastille
7. Goodnite, Dr. Death - My Chemical Romance
8. Chicken On A Stick - Justin Hurwitz
9. Private Fears In Public Places - Front Porch Step
10. Buddy Holly - Weezer
TAGGED BY: @stillsolo
CHARACTER STRENGTHS.
RULES: bold the characteristics that apply to your muse !
Tag your friends !
Tagged by: @stillsolo
adaptable | adventurous | affectionate | ambitious | artistic | athletic | assertive | beautiful | brave | charming | clever | compassionate | confident | considerate | cooperative | courteous | creative | curious | decisive | dependable | determined | diplomatic | easy - going | enthusiastic | fair | fashionable | forgiving | friendly | fun - loving | funny | generous | gentle | hard - working | heroic | honest | hopeful | humble | imaginative | incorruptible | intelligent | intuitive | inventive | jocular | leader | lively | loving | loyal | merciful | musical | observant | open - minded | optimistic | organized | outgoing | passionate | patient | playful | polite | popular | practical | resourceful | self - assured | selfless | sensible | sincere | strong | studious | thoughtful | tough | versatile | warm - hearted | well - intentioned | wise | witty
CHARACTER FLAWS.
RULES: bold the characteristics that apply to your muse !
Tag your friends !
Tagged by: @stillsolo
absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly obedient | blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | clingy | clumsy | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent | depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | flaky | frail | fraudulent | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hypochondriac | hypocritical | idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent |indecisive | insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy | ornery | overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigorous | sadistic | sarcastic | senile |selfish | self-martyr | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled | stubborn | tactless | temperamental | timid | tone-deaf | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy | vain | withdrawn | workaholic
Repost! Don’t Reblog!
Last Movie I Watched: – Moana
Last Song I Listened To: Breezeblocks - alt-J
Last book I read: – In Fury Born - David Weber
Last Thing I Ate: French Fries
If You Could Be Anywhere Right Now: Right where I am, relaxed in bed.
Fictional Character You Would Hang Out With For A Day: Only one? Wade Wilson, he’s a riot I’d have so much fun even if I’d probably get dragged into a shit ton of trouble.
Tagged by: @stillsolo
Pick any of them and tag me! I love reading about your muses.
tagging: @legatumiism @whatyoustartcd @kyloren-sithlord @serratedlight @smugglingscavanger @theslavewhoranaway @thedestrcyer @night-vale-jace @nightvalecoroner @iblamethatguy and anyone who wants to do it
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RULES !! Post a song that reminds you of your muse and then
tag 6 people whose songs you want to see!
tagged by: @stillsolo
Help I’m Alive -- Metric
I tremble
They're gonna eat me alive
If I stumble
They're gonna eat me alive
Can you hear my heart
Beating like a hammer
Beating like a hammer
Help I'm alive
My heart keeps beating like a hammer
Hard to be soft
Tough to be tender
Come take my pulse the pace is on a runaway train
Help I'm alive
My heart keeps beating like a hammer
Beating like a hammer
If you're still alive
My regrets are few
If my life is mine
What shouldn't I do?
I get wherever I'm going
I get whatever I need
While my blood's still flowing
And my heart's still
Beating like a hammer
Beating like a hammer
WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?
[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green.
[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold.steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.
[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars (mental; physical). scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs.eyes.hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing.tattoos.
[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. whips. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pistol. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. words. bat.
[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. brass. copper. lead. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. rope. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.
[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns.seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. river. meadow. lake. forest. desert. tundra .savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.
[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. mice. lizards. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats.
[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. bread. wine. champagne. hard liquor.beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. condensed milk. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. rice. ambrosia. soup. stew. whiskey.
[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. meditation. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. percussion. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. mahjong. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.
[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. cutoffs. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. rings. pendant. hat. ballcap. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. robes. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses.sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.
[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. s candles. war. peace. money. power.clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. grief. happiness. optimism.realism. pessimism. legacy. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies.loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.
TAGGED BY : @stillsolo @thismuchgreen
you can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to. put your mp3 player, itunes,spotify, etc. on shuffle & list the first 10 songs & then tag 10 people, no skipping !
REPOST & DON’T REBLOG !
1. genghis khan -- miike snow
2. master and servant -- depeche mode
3. in those jeans -- ginuwine
4. i feel perfect -- porcelain and the tramps
5. cinderella man -- eminem
6. salvation -- gabrielle aplin
7. butterfly -- mariah carey
8. kiss the devil (just a gent remix) - bel heir
9. opheliac -- emilie autumn
10. burnin’ it down -- jason aldean
TAGGED BY: @stillsolo
CHARACTER STRENGTHS.
RULES: bold the characteristics that apply to your muse !
Tag your friends !
Tagged by: @fugitivc
adaptable | adventurous | affectionate | ambitious | artistic | athletic | assertive | beautiful | brave | charming | clever | compassionate | confident | considerate | cooperative | courteous | creative | curious | decisive | dependable | determined | diplomatic | easy - going | enthusiastic | fair | fashionable | forgiving | friendly | fun - loving | funny | generous | gentle | hard - working | heroic | honest | hopeful | humble | imaginative | incorruptible | intelligent | intuitive | inventive | jocular | leader | lively | loving | loyal | merciful | musical | observant | open - minded | optimistic | organized | outgoing | passionate | patient | playful | polite | popular | practical | resourceful | self - assured | selfless | sensible | sincere | strong | studious | thoughtful | tough |versatile | warm - hearted | well - intentioned | wise | witty
CHARACTER FLAWS.
RULES. bold the ones that apply to your character! tag your friends !
TAGGED BY. @stillsolo
anyone else who hasn’t been tagged who wants to do it!
absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly obedient | blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | clingy | clumsy | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent | depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | flaky | frail | fraudulent | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hypochondriac | hypocritical | idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent | indecisive | insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy | ornery | overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigorous | sadistic | sarcastic | senile | selfish | self-martyr | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled |stubborn | tactless | temperamental | timid | tone-deaf | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy | vain | withdrawn | workaholic
Repost! Don’t Reblog!
Last Movie I Watched: –
Last Song I Listened To: Kiss From a Rose -- Seal
Last book I read: – ( its been a long ass time since i’ve read a book. )
Last Thing I Ate: sloppy joe
If You Could Be Anywhere Right Now: at home. which i am for a couple more hours
Fictional Character You Would Hang Out With For A Day: shit, most of my faves are people i’d hate irl... um. finn would probably be pretty cool tho
Tagged by: @stillsolo
Pick any of them and tag me! I love reading about your muses.
tagging: @lastknightofren @whatyoustartcd @thismuchgreen @ofjedii @carefulrcn @cybertronianwyvern @i-am-the-agonist @thetraitxr @knightofduality @reyisabae @kingsleigh + anyone who would like to do this
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Hope is a 4 letter word.
Every day I am faced with constant reminders of so many different things. I am reminded of the pain and shame of addiction. I am reminded of the losses it causes people. I am reminded of the lack of self-control. The regret and the despair. The hopelessness and seemingly endless disappointment in oneself. I am reminded of the destruction and havoc it wreaks on families, relationships, jobs, economic status, legal standing, and self-worth. I am reminded of the absolute gut-wrenching heartache that is being a parent who struggles with addiction, watching yourself fail at parenting, and not being able to stop. I am reminded of the way it feels to have to share with a group of strangers the awful things you have done, and that have been done to you. I am reminded of the fear that treatment will not get through to you and the horror will continue unchecked. And worst of all, I am reminded of the final, ultimate cost that so many pay, and that their families pay, when addiction pulls another broken soul down with it.
But that is only part of it. I am reminded of the way it feels to finally have a clear head when it’s been a total clusterfuck for years. I am reminded of what it’s like to laugh, to REALLY laugh, from deep down in your belly, when a smile has been so hard to come by. I am reminded of the way it feels when you do have to share those awful things with a group of total strangers, and not only do they not judge you, they nod their heads with genuine understanding and empathy. I am reminded of the bonds that are formed that can only come from those who know the struggle.
I am reminded of the way it feels to let secrets out into the light that have been sitting heavy in your heart for so many sick and painful years, and how it feels like freedom.
I am reminded of the little fire of courage that begins to build up in a person that felt completely defeated. I am reminded of the tremendous bravery it takes to swallow your pride and admit that you cannot do it alone. I am reminded of the grit and the guts and the strength that is required to get through disgusting and physically exhausting detox days when you know that all you have to do to make it stop is walk out the doors and use. I am reminded of the way it feels to have your family members hug you so tight and look at you with hope and how it makes you cry tears of 8675467 different emotions when they tell you they are so proud of you.
I am reminded of the sheer stupidity and unfairness of stereotyping. The addicts and alcoholics that so many assume are selfish, heartless, inhuman creatures who are incapable of caring about others. That they are weak-willed hopeless cases who have done this to themselves by choice. That they are all just nameless losers who deserve judgment and ridicule.
Obviously, I don’t speak for all of them, and of course there are some people who truly seem to be cruel and remorseless and without care for themselves or others, but that is not exclusive to addicts…there are sober assholes too. For the most part though, I sit every day with amazing people.
With so many who are true empaths, which so often contributes to their sickness. With people who are so hypersensitive and worry so much about others. I can’t sneak a troubled mind or difficult day past them, they are the first to detect any unrest and inquire about how I’m doing when they are in so much pain themselves.
They are experts at detecting bullshit after years of dishing it out and call one another out, not out of cruelty or to shame them, but to help them see the error in their ways so that they can grow and get better. I see people who love fiercely, people who fight through IMMENSE physical, mental, and emotional pain to try and make a better life for themselves. People who realize that they have to start from the rubble at the bottom and rebuild their lives. People who want nothing so badly as they want to repair the fractured trust with their families. People who have fallen down so, so many times, but just keep getting back up.
I see moms and dads who have to make the decision to be away from their children so that they can get well and go home and be the parents they have never been able to be. I see people who started out just like anybody else, but due to some genetic bad wiring, or some horrendous childhood experiences, or some completely unknown force, have been handed one of the most difficult, lifelong battles a person can face. I see human beings.
My favorite reminder though is hope. Hope is four letter word in the beginning. It is something that other people have. It is something we covet in our addiction and don’t dare dream of ever having for ourselves. Substance abuse and self-defeating behaviors ripped it from us and assured us that it was not something that we deserved.
But then things start to happen. Our bodies start to slowly return to a semblance of normal functioning. Our minds still race, but not with such constant fury. We meet people in treatment and elsewhere in the recovering community who have years under their belts, and there is truly where we see hope. It IS possible. It CAN be done. People are out there laughing and smiling and fucking LIVING…people who were lower down than we were.
And suddenly, you see it in someone’s eyes. There is nothing else like it, seeing the light of hope return to the flat, hopeless, defeated eyes that you looked into in the beginning. There is nothing like seeing someone who was a shell of a person start to blossom with life again.
I am grateful today and every day for those reminders. I am grateful that the people I am trying my best to learn to help allow me to do so. I am grateful that I was able to pull myself out of that, black awful place and into the light, and that I can now take that and use it to help others find their way out too. I am honored to work with an amazing staff of people who work tirelessly and without losing their compassion and drive in what is all too often a losing battle.
It is in struggle that you find out who you truly are. It is in the scariest, most awful times, that you discover your own bravery. There is literally no point that is too far to come back from while you are still alive and breathing. And sometimes, the people who have been slammed down against rock bottom take those rocks and use them to create something absolutely beautiful.
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4 Dreamers Who Deserve To Be Deported For The Crime of Being Brought Here By Their Parents
New Post has been published on https://joronomo.com/4-dreamers-who-deserve-to-be-deported-for-the-crime-of-being-brought-here-by-their-parents/
4 Dreamers Who Deserve To Be Deported For The Crime of Being Brought Here By Their Parents
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You may have heard the recent announcement by the Trump administration that they plan on removing the protections of DACA – the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals – a policy implemented by the Obama administration that allowed individuals who immigrated to the United States illegally as minors to receive protections from deportation and become eligible for work permits. The program was enacted to offer protections to individuals who were largely raised in the United States and could not be held accountable for the actions of their parents – and because it would be cruel to tell someone who was brought to the US as an infant that they had to leave for nebulous immigration law reasons, particularly since they were simply people raised in the US, indistinguishable from legal citizens except for their immigration status.
On top of that, there are strict guidelines for DACA – it must be renewed every two years, you must be in school or have graduated high school/gotten your GED, and cannot have committed any felonies or serious misdemeanors, so the individuals who qualify for DACA have significantly lower crime rates than the rest of the population.
Still – they have committed the most heinous crime of all: NOT TELLING THEIR PARENTS THAT BRINGING THEM INTO THE UNITED STATES WAS HIGHLY UNETHICAL.
1. Here comes the story of a true CRIME INFANT, now going by the pseudonym “pcaedus” on Reddit, who left this damning admission of their criminal choice to remain in the country with their parents, instead of dutifully exiting the United States as a 4 year old by themselves:
DACA recipient here. Came here at 4 from the Korea, 22 years of age now. Grew up through the US education system, never left the US. Graduated last year with a Nursing degree and managed to land a full time nursing gig in a great hospital in the city.
I pay taxes, I have my own place as of last month, got a bunch of great lifelong friends and a fantastic GF, but now I can only legally work and stay here until 2019 when my DACA stuff expires. Then I’m forced to say goodbye to everyone I’ve ever known and start a new life with my skill set somewhere else.
It’s easy to demonize us, say how we don’t belong here, how we should go back where we came from. I’ve had PMs telling me I should kill my parents, others saying how I should spite them, how it’s their fault and I should hate them for it and blame them for their actions. My point is every one of us DACA kids have our own stories, our situations are different. We did come here legally. My parents were sponsored by a corporation in the UK. They screwed them over by cancelling their work visas after. At that point they had already settled here and had investments that tied them down.
At the end of the day they gave birth to me and yes, what they did was unlawful but it’s also because of them that I was the first in my entire family to graduate college. My parents worked hard to give me my education. They scrapped by with cash jobs. We’ve lived in basements and now they’re business owners. It’s hard to understand from my perspective but I’m not going to hold it against them after all they have given me.
The truth is some of us DACA recipients give back so much to US society, we’re new graduates, we hold prestigious degrees from ivy’s, we’re Doctors and Nurses, firefighters, engineers, architects… some of us are even in the military.
I was planning to continue my post-bach education here but unfortunately this is the harsh reality for us if Congress doesn’t do anything in the next 6 months. I’m fortunate for all the experiences I’ve gained here in the US and the memories I have from here will stay with me for a lifetime.
Look at this REMORSELESS admission of crime – it’s almost as if they don’t regret self-deporting themselves as a 4 year old and instead building a wonderful life in the so-called “land of opportunity”! Disgusting.
2. And then we have Jesus Contreras – who was complicit as a 6 year old in his mother’s crime of illegally immigrating to the United States JUST for “a better life” and “to escape a horrible and dangerous situation at home.” And what’s he up to now? ILLEGALLY acting as a paramedic and saving lives in flood-ravaged areas around Houston:
Jesus Contreras, a Houston-area paramedic, barely slept this week. There wasn’t much time for rest after Harvey started pummeling southeast Texaslast Friday. Too many people needed his help — diabetics, cancer patients, elderly folks trapped in their homes.
Contreras camped out at a fire station when he wasn’t rushing around in an ambulance. He didn’t make it back to his house in Spring, a suburb north of Houston, until Thursday afternoon.
Contreras arrived in the United States with his mother when he was 6. They had come from Nuevo Laredo, a city in the Mexican state of Tamaulipas, where their lives were strained by a “violent situation at home.” The promise of a new life in America was partly about “getting away from my dad and the things he was involved with in Mexico,” Contreras said.
He came of age in Houston, working hard through high school and college while volunteering at his local church. He earned his paramedic certification at a community college last year and soon got to work — something that would not have been possible without DACA.
Imagine the gall – saving TRUE AMERICANS as someone who LEGALLY should not have even been there in the first place. If it were me drowning in Houston, I would have said “no thanks” to his illegal attempts at saving my life and died like a REAL PATRIOT.
3. Excuse me while I hold in my vomit – meet Larissa Martinez, the admitted CRIME LORD who confessed in front of everyone that she was UNDOCUMENTED (in her valedictorian speech, because she represented the best of us – someone who strove for her goals and fought to achieve all she could. Also, she’s heading to Yale btw):
This is what happened after a Yale-bound valedictorian in Texas revealed she is an undocumented immigrant:t.co/YamQEsiKjt
— Mic (@mic) June 9, 2016
Terrible – she committed a grievous crime of coming into a country she wasn’t born in just to work for a better life. Unlike us real TRUE Americans, who went through the effort of being born here already.
4. Juan Escalante is your classic ultra-criminal with no redeeming qualities whatsoever ��� he and his family came into this country WITHOUT ALL THE PROPER PAPERWORK IN ORDER and then he went on to study hard, get a Master’s degree, and work as an immigration advocate. In other words, this guy is pretty much John Dillinger but even worse. Here’s what Juan “Crime-Doer” Escalante wrote in a Medium post:
Imagine being 11 years old, and after living in the United States for over ten years, you are consistently reminded that you would not be able to accomplish much due to your immigration status. That you wouldn’t get a job, go to college, or be accepted in the country that you grew up in due to your immigration status. That is, of course, after graduating from high school, trying to navigate the country’s broken immigration system, and paying taxes.
Then, years later, the U.S. Government comes along with an opportunity for you to pay a fee, undergo a background check, meet particular requirements, and surrender significant amounts private information in exchange for the ability to temporarily shed your fear of deportation, work, and drive. This is exactly what the DACA program did for me, and countless others, give us an opportunity to contribute back to the country that saw us grow up.
Knowing full well that DACA could not give us legal permanent residence or U.S. Citizenship, hundreds of thousands of Dreamers like myself spent the last five years working across the United States. Thanks to DACA, Dreamers have been able to build their lives, go to school, and invest in the economy by buying a home or a car.
And then later was profiled by the New York Times (although maybe it should be called the New York CRIMES, am I right?):
I was working an unpaid internship in 2012 when I caught word of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) announcement via Twitter.
I ran to the office lobby, turned on the TV, and immediately knew right then that life would not be the same. I called my mother in tears and proceeded to tell her that my brothers and I would be able to benefit from a program that would temporarily shield us from deportation while allowing us to work and drive legally. I understood DACA was a temporary program that would not cover parents, but it renewed my commitment to fight for relief for the rest of the immigrant community.
Since that day I have taken every opportunity to grow, learn, and contribute back to my community. In 2013, DACA allowed me to re-enroll at Florida State University and pursue a Master’s degree in Public Administration. By 2014, I was in the middle of working a job in Tallahassee, Florida, studying for my master classes, and advocating at the Florida Legislature for a bill that would allow undocumented students to obtain in-state tuition at state colleges and universities. In a rare display of bipartisanship, the bill passed and was signed into law by Florida’s Republican Governor, Rick Scott.
I graduated with my Master’s in 2015, full of hope and energy that I would be able to put my education to good use. With degrees in hand, I was able to obtain a job as a digital immigration advocate – putting my years of experience and passion to good use. Simultaneously, and thanks to the new in-state tuition law in Florida, I was able to help both of my younger brothers enroll at Miami Dade College and Florida Internation University – they are currently pursuing degrees to work in business and communications, respectively.
The government NEEDS to focus on getting rid of the REAL CRIMINALS – people like Juan, who came here in their youth and have done everything in their power to become productive members of society and work harder than everyone else.
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@stillsolo tagged me in a post full of gathered memes so I’m answering them all here in a similar fashion. Hooray for interesting character development things!
RULES !! Post a song that reminds you of your muse and then
tag 6 people whose songs you want to see!
tagged by:
There are... a lot of songs that remind me of her, picking one is the difficulty. However, the first one that jumped to mind was-
Rise - Katy Perry
I could probably give you a very long list of songs (some for very specific verses, even!) but this one works in a few different ways, so for now, there it is.
WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?
[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green.
[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.
[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars (mental; physical). scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing.tattoos.
[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. whips. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pistol (blaster). pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. words. bat.
[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. brass. copper. lead. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. chrome. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.
[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. river. meadow. lake. forest. desert. tundra .savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.
[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. mice. lizards. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats.
[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. bread. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. condensed milk. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. rice. ambrosia. soup. stew. whiskey.
[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. meditation. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. percussion. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. mahjong. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.
[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. rings. pendant. hat. ballcap. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. robes. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.
[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. grief. happiness. optimism. realism. pessimism. legacy. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.
TAGGED BY :
you can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to. put your mp3 player, itunes,spotify, etc. on shuffle & list the first 10 songs & then tag 10 people, no skipping !
REPOST & DON’T REBLOG !
1. How Far I’ll Go - Moana OST
2. Across the Stars - SW OST
3. Don’t Let Go - Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmarron OST
4. Let Your Troubles Roll By - Carbon Leaf
5. Better Than I Know Myself - Adam Lambert
6. It’s the Fear - Within Temptation
7. Luke the Son of Anakin - Nick Jack Pappas (I knew a parody would sneak on here somewhere...)
8. Safe and Sound - Taylor Swift
9. Leia’s Theme - SW OST
10. It Takes Two - Katy Perry
(11. Bonus points: My music player somehow brought up the audio from a Natalie Portman Lux Shampoo Ad that I had saved for editing reasons, but I have no clue how it even got in my playlist folder.)
TAGGED BY:
CHARACTER STRENGTHS.
RULES: bold the characteristics that apply to your muse !
Tag your friends !
Tagged by:
adaptable | adventurous | affectionate | ambitious | artistic | athletic | assertive | beautiful | brave | charming | clever | compassionate | confident | considerate | cooperative | courteous | creative | curious | decisive | dependable | determined | diplomatic | easy - going | enthusiastic | fair | fashionable | forgiving | friendly | fun - loving | funny | generous | gentle | hard - working | heroic | honest | hopeful | humble | imaginative | incorruptible | intelligent | intuitive | inventive | jocular | leader | lively | loving | loyal | merciful | musical | observant | open - minded | optimistic | organized | outgoing | passionate | patient | playful | polite | popular | practical | resourceful | self - assured | selfless | sensible | sincere | strong | studious | thoughtful | tough | versatile | warm - hearted | well - intentioned | wise | witty
CHARACTER FLAWS.
RULES. bold the ones that apply to your character! tag your friends !
TAGGED BY.
absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious (in the sense of ‘ willing to take bold risks’) | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly obedient | blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | clingy | clumsy | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent | depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | flaky | frail | fraudulent | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hypochondriac | hypocritical | idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent |indecisive | insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy | ornery | overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigorous | sadistic | sarcastic | senile |selfish | self-martyr | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled | stubborn | tactless | temperamental | timid | tone-deaf | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy | vain | withdrawn | workaholic
I’m just going to tag anyone who wants to do any of these tbh.
#;ooc#((*me staring at the last one* I fell like this should be more even with the one before it but?? She's so nice??))#*feel not fell#((Also that one parody that popped up in the playlist shuffle is - aside from the inaccuracy of the fist line - amazing))
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