my mind is even more corrupted

Kingdom Hearts| Jin

Your sister is getting an arranged marriage to bring two kingdoms together as one. This has been tradition since the beginning of time and stretched out into modern day. What happens when you fall for your sisters future husband’s brother and stray away from the tradition?

Originally posted by sprimgday

warning: Cussing, smut, alcoholic themes, Prince Jin!, Virgin Jin!

Genre: Smut and fluff

Word count: 9.6K

A/N: Yes i know the title of this is a video game. Also i wanted to get this up before i go on vacation, so sorry if it may seem a little rushed i wanted to get it out. Once i get back on vacation ill post my master list and being working on Hypnotic part 2

Marriage, a way of combining two souls conjoining as one. This had become a foremost event for the kingdom. They never identified it as i did, only seeing it as a way to combine our two kingdoms instead of our souls and hearts. I never agreed with the terms and beliefs but learned to keep my mouth shut along the way as they wouldn’t acknowledge the true meaning. Sure it felt strange keeping everything bottled up but its what I learned to do best as it was tradition and saying my simple opinion i would be shunned. So hear i stand eyeing my sister trying on dress after dress doing keeping my mouth closed about the event.

“I feel like it does have enough diamonds. I want the people to be blinded by my costly dress.”

They sure would be blinded by the high prices. For that amount of money we could just by another kingdom and have everything be settled instead of marriage. I rolled my eyes at the fortune my sister was indulging in. She always saw money as a small child to her. Something she carried around freely but wasn’t afraid to spend stupid things on it. Endearing parent she was. Anyone else who held money as if they were a child she would automatically find herself drowning over their simple sentences that dripped with riches. Hints way she was marring one of the most said to be richest kings in our kingdom. As soon as his father died he took his place along with a small amount of his riches making him a certified person for my sister to capture.

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Jun - (Mornings with SVT Series)

Pairing: Jun x reader

Type: Slightly suggestive fluff, this is a little more 👀 than the past ones, please be aware

Words: 762

A light touch, as soft and pillowy as a flower petal, is what gently eases you into consciousness. It starts at your eyelids, making them flutter, a second on each at a time. Then it moves to the tip of your nose, each of your cheeks, pausing to let your lips spread into a sleepy smile before touching that too.

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everybody’s looking for something

x-men one shot [nsfw, male reader]

i present to you my first ever one shot imagine, based on this request sent to not me that is literally the reason why i made this blog, i started writing it back in january and it was fun so i made an imagines blog an d now im fucking posting it

dedicated to @transpetermaximoff who encouraged me to post this & also probably bribed me with memes to do it

Originally posted by lokiyoulittle

pairing: peter maximoff x male reader
warnings: nsfw, not like full smut but like…. close enough. also mentions of dicks and wanting to suck said dicks
notes: yes im aware trans guys (i.e. me) exist i just am one that likes pretending i have a dick so if you want this but without the references to dicks request it
word count: fuck if i know 1,406

You were sitting cross legged on the couch in the mansion’s living room area, your best friend Peter’s feet in your lap with your textbook resting against his shoes. You both had a calculus test tomorrow, so you were studying together – but the silver haired mutant was definitely not studying. Your ability was telepathy, which meant you heard everyone’s thoughts – even if you didn’t necessarily want to. For example, as you tried to focus on the words and numbers in front of you, all your brain could pick up on were the busy thoughts of those around you. Students passing, with thoughts of their romantic partners/crushes, school (much to your surprise, passing thoughts had revealed there actually was someone more anxious for the calculus test than you), teachers with… Well, you could never really hear Professer Xavier’s thoughts. Maybe he blocked them from you for a reason? Whatever the reason, you definitely did not want to know what it was, especially if it was about a certain metal-manipulating mutant you’d heard he might have had a relationship with at some point. (On second thought, for the sake of your friendship with Peter, you were glad you couldn’t see into Professor Xavier’s mind.)

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I wish tumblr actually cared about Greece right now. Everyone’s happy to reblog posts of pictures of Santorini and the Greek islands and to read books based of Greek mythology and quote Greek philosophers and live in countries built on the ideas and inventions that GREEKS CREATED but I am yet to see one post about the Greek crisis and it just seems like no one cares what’s going on. People do not have any money, all banks are closed and accounts are frozen. ATMs are only giving 60 euro a day to people and they are soon going to run out of money. Unemployment is at 28% if I’m correct. 272.7% increase in depression. People are committing suicide because of the living standards (around a 35% increase) . There has been electricity and hot water cuts in parts of Greece. Pensioners can’t get their pensions. The Greek PEOPLE are being blamed because apparently they are ‘too lazy’ but no ones blaming anyone else when it’s not the people of Greece’s fault. they’re being bullied and pressured by more powerful countries, the eu and imf to vote yes on the referendum meaning higher taxes and spending cuts putting the people of greece in even more poverty. not to mention that Greece already has a corrupt government to deal with. And no one seems to care that whatever the outcome is with Greece effects other countries such as Ireland, Portugal, Spain and Italy who are also in a very fragile state. Mind you the EU doesn’t seem to care if Greece goes bankrupt because they won’t give Greece debt relief, they are ruining a country and the lives of people! I have family in Greece right now and my yiayia (grandmother) has informed us that she is currently living off her last 20 euros because she’s on the island Lesvos in a village and can’t access any of her money in her bank accounts. It’s disgusting that people are making jokes of this situation when the people of Greece are suffering as much as they are, and I don’t think they realize what an effect Greece collapsing will have on them and the rest of the world! All I’m asking is for the people of tumblr to open their eyes to a major issue in the world right now because even if it’s not effecting you directly, it’s effecting millions of people. Greece needs help and even if it can get something as little as more recognition and acknowledgment of how bad the problem is, maybe just maybe things can get better. Just keep in mind that this could potentially ruin a country filled with such a beautiful culture, proud outgoing spirited people and an incredibly rich history

happy-amateur  asked:

writing requests open, right? sonya spending time with other units in celica's army.

of Ram Wine and Shitty Sperm Donors

“You never mentioned he was your father,” Celica uttered discretely, hoping that the crackling of the campfire and the ale-induced small talk from her party would drown out the sound to anyone but the woman next to her.

“You never asked,” Sonya answered matter-of-factly, her eyes never meeting Celica’s while expertly twirling a half-empty wineglass between her fingers she had personally emptied and refilled plenty of times tonight.

She wasn’t the only one. Tomorrow they would go into Duma’s tower, a challenge unlike anything they had ever faced before, and after today’s encounter with a seemingly unbeatable Jedah, her companions were more than keenly aware of their own mortality. The only remedy to that realization seemed to drown it in alcohol, though Celica herself did not join in.

The encounter hadn’t just left her with her own dilemma, but also revealed a painful truth about Sonya’s parentage. Celica wouldn’t ever have guessed that the lunatic was related to Sonya if it hadn’t been for their short argument, quickly followed by some particular fearsome magic from both sides. She’d never seen Sonya quite so deadly, and considering the journey behind them, that was quite telling. Sonya had always had a careless act about her casting, as if the enemy was merely a temporary entertainment to her. Never before had her eyes alone been able to kill a lesser man, nor had her spells been this frighteningly powerful.

All of that was gone now though, hidden beneath a perfectly constructed mask of causality, and drowned in plenty of Ram Wine. It was that very same liquid that loosened her tongue. “Besides, it takes more than just blood to be called a father. He was never there for us when we needed him, growing up. And after what he did to my sisters…” Sonya’s cheerful voice didn’t match her words, but Celica could see the way her knuckles turned white around her wineglass when she downed the remainder of her drink in one go. “We were never more than pawns to him, conceived to be sacrificed at the right time. He’s no father of mine,” she finished brusquely.

“I’m sorry I asked,” Celica apologized with a slight bow.

Sonya shrugged, and Celica pretended not to see the pain behind the woman’s eyes. “Why? It’s not your fault he was a shitty man. Besides, from what I’ve heard you’ve had your own share of terrible sperm donors.”

“Sonya!” Celica exclaimed, her cheeks the shade of a tomato at the mere thought of addressing her royal father in such a way.

Around her, more than one eavesdropper burst out in laughter.

“To shitty sperm donors!” Exclaimed Saber, raising his cup to a toast. More than half the group joined him with wry smiles of their own.

Celica decidedly looked the other way, displeased at the display. “Don’t you think I should… forgive him?”

“Should we?” To her surprise, it was Conrad who spoke up with an uncharacteristic amount of disdain. He had been hovering close to her all evening, trying to get her to speak about her conversation with Jedah. “He was, by all accounts, a terrible man. I’ve never heard anyone speak kindly of him, and he was king no less. He forced my mother from her homeland and into his harem just so her people could eat, only to be discarded once he found a new toy. He might have granted us a luxurious childhood, but he never came to visit us, did he now?” Even though she was happy to have her brother back, it was easy to forget that they did in fact share the same father. To hear him speak like this was harsh, but liberating all the same.

And she realized he was right, as he often tended to be. But that didn’t make the truth hurt any less. “And when he died, nobody mourned him. Neither did I, honestly, I was glad he was gone,” Celica admitted with a heavy heart. “But I feel awful for thinking that.”

She had never made a secret of her dislike for her father before, but now that the crown laid heavily on her own head, she understood the man a bit better. Nobody wanted this life, and if it had been forced upon her from birth, tempted with luxury from the day she was born, would she really have been so much different?

Sonya let out a sharp laugh, one without any mirth. “The only reason I’m glad that man isn’t dead yet, is because I want to be the one to put an end to him. Though I’ll settle for being there to see the light fade from his eyes.”

For a second, Celica was afraid that the woman was going to crush the wineglass between her fingertips to demonstrate what she would like to do to her father’s spine. But then the moment passed, and instead Sonya refilled her glass, offering it to Celica.

“Come on, try it,” she urged, all but pushing the glass into her hands. “If not tonight, then when?”

“I’m a priestess!” Celica protested in vain.

Sonya looked at her disbelievingly. “Yes, of Mila, who encouraged indulgence in young women, if I’m to believe the stories.”

If the stories were to be believed, Mila encouraged a whole lot more than just underaged drinking in women, so Celica let that argument die before it backfired into a conversation of unmarried intercourse.

Defeated, she accepted the glass. Sonya was right, even though she didn’t know quite the extent of it. If not now, then never. With that resolve in mind, Celica took a small, careful sip. It wasn’t as strong as she had imagined it, nor did she feel a sudden urge to join Saber in a song about his father. But it didn’t make her feel any less alone, either.

When she turned back to Sonya, she had a faraway look in her eyes, as if entranced by a vision only she could see in the campfire.

“I did feel like you, once upon a time. Everyone wants to love their parents, deep down. Yes, even me. But sometimes there just isn’t anything to love. You’re a wonderful woman, Celica, and if he never was there to see that, than that is his loss, not yours.” And for the first time since they had met, Sonya willingly touched her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. It was as short as it was meaningful, and when it ended it had both women slightly redder than before.

“Mah, look at me, waxing poetry and dishing out words of wisdom. Too much of this fancy ram wine in my system. I’m off to bed before any of you start telling me your sob stories like I’m your mother or something,” Sonya exclaimed, her face contorted as if she had tasted something very bitter, and got up shakingly.

“I can escort you there, my dear!” Jesse offered with a drunken leer.

“Not a chance in hell, pretty boy. I’m drunk, not desperate.”


Reblog if you headcanon that Mila organized lesbian orgies in her temple. Just kidding, just kidding. It is convenient to say the very least that all of her attendants were female though. Mila is put in a far better light than her brother, but at the end they were both corrupt as all hell. Besides the cut-scene, I wish there had been more of that in the game. Anyway, I enjoyed this request a lot, and it grew to be quite a bit more than the 300 words I had originally in mind for these requests. Oh well, I hope you enjoyed this too!

evangelinethedemonicangel  asked:

For Ppgems, what if there was a way to return corrupted gems to the way they were before? If this happened, would they be "evil" still, or nah? Also, I HATE to bother you, but if you take requests may you please draw the uncorrupted Gangreen gang?^~^

Hm. Well, in my head, the corrupted gems that are the PPG villians were Homeworld gems that were left behind as Homeworld’s final attack went off.

Some were fighting for Homeworld against the rebellion, others just said ‘fuck you’ to both Homeworld & the rebellion & did whatever they wanted before they were corrupted.

Either way, both parties blame the rebellion and Earth for what happened to them. The PPGems fighting for Earth pisses them off (even when they can’t fully understand why during the time they’re corrupted) as that’s mostly why they attack the girls. So they’d more or less still be pissed off at the girls & Earth in general after they have their corruption gotten rid of.

And no, I don’t mind requests for my AUs at all~

I actually made two gem changes for the gang as I was drawing this. I changed Ace to Apatite & Big Billy to Idocrase.

And if anybody’s wondering wtf is up with Grubber/Demantoid, don’t forget that this happened in the original series. XD (Though fyi, he just likes to look like his corrupted form after his corruption is cleared up.) And the Diamond colors they’re wearing here are just which Diamonds they served under before they ditched Homeworld & left to laze around & do whatever the fuck they want on Earth.


Title: Amaranth(P.9)
Pairing: Peter Pan(OUAT) x Reader
Warnings: Abuse mentions, cussing, dark themes, smut.
Author notes: Requested by Anon: ‘There are no queens in Neverland. Just me.’  
Summary: A Demigod makes a deal with The Evil Queen to get away from the curse and ends up in Neverland. Peter Pan is not impressed with the female on his Island, but when he realizes she might just be as dark tempered as himself, he might just change his minds. After all, there aren’t any Queens in Neverland.

Originally posted by demonlure

“What did you make me do?” I asked once I heard Peter come back into the space we shared. I was naked, save for a jeweled piece that wrapped from my neck and trailed down my back, turned away from him as I brought a hand up to touch the horns that came from my head. Something inside me didn’t feel right. I felt evil, hopeless. 

Power was something I craved, more then what my father could give me in the underworld, which is why I left. It was empty without my mother, she was long since gone when I finally realized the person my father was. I wanted more, I wanted to rule, like he had, but not where he ruled.

I wasn’t a killer. I thrived on my mothers power to create life. Vines, trees, rain…It was all living and full of life. My father’s power took it away. My father’s need for death is what killed my mother. His fire suffocated the beauty of my mother’s life. Her trees, her vines.

Despite the genetic inheritance of wanting more, of wanting power, I never wanted to kill. I never had. I wasn’t evil, maybe dark, but not evil.

Now, as I felt the horns erupting from my skull and the fire of a new soul coursing through me, I felt it. I felt what Peter must feel, what my father must be. Corrupted. Sin. Evil.

Having killed that boy, it wasn’t the problem. Slightly surely deserved it. What he planned to do to me, I couldn’t even begin to explain how awful it felt having his soul create all his thoughts and memories inside my mind. 

The problem wasn’t murder, it wasn’t evil. It was…It was how I felt about it. I should feel horrible, resent what I did, regret it. I didn’t.

I liked it.

I liked it because the power that filled my body, was more then I had ever had before. I liked it because it saved Peter and Felix. I liked it because…I truly was my father’s child.

“I didn’t make you do anything.” His breath coursed across my skin as he appeared behind me, his hands sliding down the bare skin of my sides, his lips against my neck. “You made all your own choices. You saved yourself.”

His fingers ran back up my body, across my shoulders and through my hair. “You…saved me.” Peter whispered, a hand touching one of the horns on my head, his lips pressing against my jawline. 

“I killed somebody, Peter. I would have killed more.” My voice was low, I was trying to comprehend what had happened tonight. I was trying to make sense of it and make myself angry that I took someones life.

“You did what you had to.” Peter said, his voice a bit more stern as he spun me around to face him. “I would be dead if you hadn’t. And if I wasn’t. If he had hurt you, I would have killed them all. I would have been ruthless, worse then you. You at least spared him a pitiful death, my Queen.”

I shut my eyes as he kissed my shoulders and my neck, all the way up my cheeks until he got to my lips. “Would you take it back?”

“No.” I shook my head, kissing him back. “Never.”

“Did you regret it?”

Again, I shook my head. “Did you…like it?”

His hands cascaded down, gripping the plump flesh at the bottom of my hips. My eyes fluttered open as I stared at him. He was gazing down at my body, slowly looking back up into my eyes and then at the horns. My breath hitched, but I nodded. “Yes.”

A dark smirk appeared on his face as he backed me into a wall. “Then why do you seem so upset, love?”

I let him tilt my head back, allowing him to kiss his way down my neck. “I shouldn’t have liked it.”

He growled, his right hand sliding between my legs, I gasped as he pressed a finger into me, without warning. “You have every right to like it.” He chuckled. “You could even say…it’s genetic.” 

My breath shuddered as he pumped his digit in and then back out. “I don’t want to be like him.” I gasped out, arching my back. 

He bit my neck, sucking the flesh. “Who said you were? He’s down there, ruling people who no longer even matter…you’re here…And you can rule everything. With me.”

Adding a second finger, Peter delved his other hand into my hair, pressing on the base of my skull until our lips collided. He picked up the speed of his fingers, stretching them out like a pair of scissors before sliding them out, using that hand to relieve himself from the confined pieces of clothes he wore. 

“What about Killian?” I asked as I set my hands on his shoulders, pushing back against the wall, using his shoulders as leverage to bring my legs up, wrapping them around his waist. He placed his hand on my hip, letting me grind up against his excitement, enticing a long groan from his lips. 

Peter slid his hand up and down my thigh, his other gripping my neck roughly. “Don’t worry about him.” He replied, watching as I brought a hand down to wrap around his member, aligning it with my entrance. “I’ll take care of it.”

With a growl, he thrust forward, slamming into my wet heat roughly, just as he pressed his lips into mine again, ending any continued conversation. 

I woke up in the middle of the night, my eyes snapping open as if someone had called me to wake up. Peter slept next to me, an arm around my waist. I looked over at him before a sound outside called to my attention. 

Without waking him, I slid from the bed, willing myself dressed, the leaves appeared as I walked towards the entrance. It barely took any energy to leap from the top of the tree. I settled on my feet quite easily, glancing around for the source of the noise. 

There was a dark feeling coming from the opposite direction of the camp. Being out here, I half wondered if I should go check on Felix, I hadn’t since he refused the water after the fight, but a part of me was still worried. However, the dark presence called my attention more then the thought of Felix did. 

Turning towards it, I headed into the forest. I knew where it was leading me, somewhere Peter had told me not to go, where I knew I shouldn’t. The Dark Hollows. 

I reached the edge of it fairly quickly, my eyes adjusting to the sheer darkness of the area. A low growl made me spin to the side quickly, willing a ball of fire to my hand as I prepared to defend myself in case it happened to be Killian and his crew. 

I stood straighter. “Cerberus.” My voice was stern, I knew better then to seem scared or angry in front of the creature. In all honesty, he was quite sensitive. 

“I’m so glad you remember him.” Another voice, familiar, but also less inviting then the eyes of the beast in front of me. “He sure did enjoy you sneaking him scraps when you were younger.” 

I turned slowly, letting the fire in my hand die as I faced him. “Dad.” I narrowed my eyes, suddenly remembering that I now had a good show of his power bestowed on my head. “What do you want?”

He frowned. “Not the reunion I was expecting.” With a sigh, he walked past me and set his hand on the dogs head closest to him. “What was I thinking of course? That my daughter, who ran from home after telling me how much she hated who I was, would be excited to see me?”

My eyes turned from him and the animal, looking out to where Peter’s camp was. Hades kept speaking. “Though, for someone who hates me so much…” He chuckled, catching my gaze and then lifting his to my horns. “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

“I am not like you.” I hissed, choosing to walk away instead of entice him anymore. 

“Oh, aren’t you though?” He laughed. “Killing that poor boy. Who never truly meant you any harm.” 

I froze, glaring at the floor in front of me. “I fed from his thoughts. He meant more then harm.”

Hades appeared in front of me, laughing lightly. “But it wasn’t him.” He frowned. “Not him, but the precious shadow of Pan’s. Living within Slightly’s body.”

My eyes widened when I shot my head up to look at him. “You need to go. I don’t want to hear your lies.”

“Lies?” He mocked offense, trying to seem insulted. “Why not ask your little boyfriend? Why…how about you ask that Pirate, what’s his name…Killian? Yes, I’m sure he’d tell you the truth. Maybe in exchange for passage off the Island.”

I pushed passed him again, trying to ignore the feeling of distrust of Peter rising in my chest. “Go away.”

There was a small sigh, before he chuckled. “Do note, my dear, that every soul you take, puts you that much closer to coming home.”

“I’m not going back there. I’m not a murderer.”

“We’ll see. Find the pirate, Y/N.”

Healing - Part 1

Summery: Bucky’s hurt and your his doctor. 

 Warnings: fighting, explosions, injuries (sorry if I’ve missed anything) 

Word Count: 1100+ 

A/N: I know my name is ‘oneshot-shit’ and this is a fic but your just going to have to deal with it. It started as a oneshot and had to much potential. My first fic and honestly not by best writing but I hope you enjoy. @helllaellla, my editor, is away rn (cry) and I’m going away tomorrow so I’ll try and update it when I can.

“Healing” Masterlist

Originally posted by dailysebastiangifs

Bucky had been the closest to the explosion. When it had happened, he was flung across the battlefield and into a nearby truck. Even with all the training, experience, and supersoldier serum hydra had pumped into him he was still human. Although he couldn’t feel any pain from the adrenalin, his wounds worsened with every minute of fighting. After the violence had stopped, the pain hit him and he was unable to walk. ‘Shit! Ah, What the hell happened?’ He was laying on his back unable to move.

‘Getting old, are we, James?’ Wands teased him in her thick accent. She used her powers to lift the assassin into a van that she had called for when he first started bleeding.

‘Thank you, Wanda’, he said flatly, showing his appreciation for the comment but secretly meaning it.

‘Buck. We need to get you to a hospital, ASAP. F.R.I.D.A.Y, take us to the nearest hospital!’, Steve instructed the AI. They heard a few words and then the engine turned on.

‘Wait. But, Steve!’ Bucky suddenly got worried. Not for his own safety. ‘Steve, I don’t - I don’t have travel insurance’. Since they were in England and it was his first time in England since the war he didn’t really know what to expect.

‘It’s fine, Buck. Tony will pay for your treatment.’ Steve said, very matter-of-fact. ‘If not, we’ll just sell one of your kidneys’. At this Wanda lost it. She had been containing a laugh since Bucky had mentioned travel insurance but Steve’s comment pushed her over the edge. She got a death stare from the solder and stopped laughing.

‘Ew, no! I don’t want my kidney touching some sick guy!’ Steve then lost it as if they hadn’t just fought off an army of hydra agents. When they arrived at the hospital Steve and Wanda tried to get Bucky out of the car.

‘Careful! I’m delicate’

‘Oh, I’m sorry princess. Do you want me to help you sleep before you get in there? Because I won’t hesitate to punch you and it’ll be easier for the doctor’ Bucky lifted his arm over Steve’s neck and pouted at him.

‘Will you two stop flirting, remember you’re dying Buck. Or are you well enough to fight tomorrow?’ Wanda, despite being the youngest, mothered the group when it was needed.

‘Oh, my head’ Bucky closed his eyes and lazily put his free hand on his forehead like he was in a Shakespeare tragedy.

When they entered the hospital there was a range of accidents: drunk teenagers, broken noses, burns, toilet seats stuck on heads, crying babies. Yet there was only a 15 minute waiting time and an entire room to himself. (He was informed that is was a rarity by and old lady clutching her handbag as if it was going to fly away). They were escorted to his room by a nurse who bandaged his leg and cleaned his wounds.

‘Dude! Can we go to another hospital, the nurses aren’t even hot’ Steve glared at Bucky who was in his underwear because he refused to put on the “weird hospital dressed with an ass window”. Just after he said it he saw you with your stethoscope round your neck and in your uniform through the window. ‘Scrap that! The doctors are beautiful’. You walked through the door clutching your clipboard.

‘So, Mr Barnes. My names Dr Y/L/N’ you took your stethoscope off your shoulders and rubbed it ‘this is going to feel a little cold.’ Your accent was so different to the ones he was used to in America. You put the headset in your ears and the chest piece on his hard, muscled chest.

You had your hand on his shoulder and he was staring at you intently. ‘Breathing in. And breath out. Ok, now look into my eyes’ you put your stethoscope around your neck again. You put you hands on his cheeks and pulled his eyelids. ‘Ok, James, can you tell me the date?’

‘Doctor, are you asking me out?’ He gasped. You laughed silently at his response. Steve and Wanda rolled their eyes.

‘Just answer the question, Buck!’ Steve walk toward the two of you.

‘Sorry, doc, I can’t tell you the date but I can tell you that my leg is killing me and I’ve had my fair share of injuries.’ Bucky was serious when he said it.

‘You also seem to have a concussion, Mr Barnes, and I don’t know your medical history so legally I can’t give you any strong anesthetics’, you bent down to whisper in his ear. ‘But if you stay, there might be something I can do’. He perked up at the thought. You stood up to address his friends. ‘Don’t let him sleep, I have more patients. I’ll check in in a couple of hours’. You turned around and exited the room.

‘Would it be completely unprofessional if I kiss her next time she touches my face?’ He turned to his best friend.

‘Yes!’, Steve pushed Bucky back on to the bed. ‘Rest!’

After hours of talking about missions, corrupting Captain America with dirty Russian words and passing the time any other way they knew how you walked into his room. ‘Have you had a good evening?’

‘Better now that you’re here’ Bucky teased, Steve sighed.

‘Would you mind giving me and James a moment alone?’ You asked the superheroes in your room. Bucky grinned at you. ‘Don’t worry, it’s for a completely professional reason’, Bucky’s whole body sunk into the bed. They left the room, leaving you and an incredibly gorgeous and flirtatious man alone. You moved to stand next to him. ‘Can you keep a secret?’. He nodded eagerly and sat up in his bed. You didn’t say anything. Just placed your right hand on his chest and closed your eyes.

You hear a gasp. You already know why it happened.

‘What the fu-?’

You opened your eyes to see a yellow-white light coming from your hand and into the body in front of you. All these years and still your ability to heal the wounded amazed you. When you lifted your hand you looked over to see his face was not what you expected. It wasn’t shocked but in awe of you.

‘You’re amazing!’, his voice strong. His hands lifted the thin sheet he was given to cover himself and exposed an incredibly toned body. Clear. No injuries at all. You shrug your shoulders and turn from him. ‘No, seriously. We could use someone like you on our team. Fury would definitely let you join. Plus, I could get used to seeing your beautiful face everyday’.

‘And I you. But, I’m going to have to turn the offer down’, moving from the foot of his bed to his side again. Most people would have loved to be an Avenger, you included. ‘For a master assassin, you aren’t very observant’, he tilted his head in confusion as you sat next to him. You brought your left hand into his view.

‘I’m married’

Part 2

Shiro and being found

So I know most people want the paladins to find shiro at some point in s3. But I dont see many people say that they want shiro to be fohnd by the galra.

Think about it. Shiro is found by lotor, or a random commander, and is immediately put back into prison life, he fights a few battles, then the druids get ahold of him once again and give his arm a little..upgrade… Shiro is back in hell and we see all of this, we learn what galra prisons are like, and how things are conducted for the prison and gladiators. Haggar keeps closer eyes on shiro, she doesnt want to lose her champion again. Lotor probably tries to manipulate him, saying the team will never find him. And well the team has no idea hes even there! If shiro is found early s3 by haggar and lotor, their gonna be smart and not brag about him. Id imagine the team learns of shiro being there either by lotor slipping up and saying something about shiro, or they end up fighting a dark!shiro. (Bonus points if its keith who fights shiro)
The galra /finally/ broke shiro, and hes basically under haggars complete control, shiro is the weapon she had been trying to make him before he escaped. And we see all of it go down. It would be wonderful, painful, and oh so informative on the enemy.

But if we get shiro back.. How would we fix him? Hes broken and corrupted my haggars magic… It would take so long, we would have shiro back but hes more like a pet for probably a whole nother season, the team has to regretfully keep him in a cage until his broken mind learns that they arnt the enemy.. Shiro will never be the same. Keith and pidge (maybe matt if we have him back) work day and night trying to get shiro back to normal… Back to the man he was before haggar got to him..but even with all the work they do, shiro isnt the same person, hes more jumpy, tends to activate his arm at the slightest noise, and he easily loses his temper, getting frustrated with things in the castle and just breaking them. They cant let him on the training deck at the same time as the gladiator, because shiro just destroys it, rips it to shreds in seconds. Hes unfit to be a paladin, and no lion will accept him, not even blue. Shiro has small vague memories from before he was corrupted, and knows he isnt supposed to be like this, he knows he was an anchor for the whole team at some point (mostly from the things pidge and keith told him). Shiro tries so hard to be /normal/ again.. But he hears haggars whispers, he gets.. Urges to kill, to harm the people closest to him… He knows hes to dangerous for the team and tries to leave, of course the team keeps such a close eye on him that if he tried to leave, the whole team would be their instantly making sure he didnt leave. The team has to re assure shiro that even though hes different than he was, that hes still healing, and the team still needs him. They dont care how he acts, aslong as they know hes safe…

I had to do some shiro angst… And im deffinately gonna be doing these long head canon things more often.

I kinda feel like this could be more of an au than where the episode is going.. But idk.. Shiro got alittle ooc near the end.. Im used to writing about lance.

How Would He Fall?

I get questions about the Dark El and Ain’s 3rd line pretty much on a daily basis…

And at first, I thought,

Fuck no, why would he even use the El corrupted by demons to gain more power? That makes no sense. He would just kill himself than to use that.

And then I realized

There is a way to incorporate the Dark El into his 3rd line quest story.

The following are Ain’s lines about the Dark El in Feita and how it affects him:

  • This is unpleasant. No, this is… beyond unpleasant…
  • I must crush them… Filthy demons…
  • … My mind is becoming hazy.. What was that…? That has never happened before…
  • “I don’t want to touch or even be near such disgusting thing so please take care of it as fast as possible.”
  • I must stay away. If I am too close… who knows what will happen to me…

As you can see, the Dark El does affect Ain, but it doesn’t affect him in a way that affected previous characters; corruption, tainted power, etc..

The Dark El and its strong demonic aura drives Ain to mercilessly and ceaselessly destroy all the demons.

And it causes him to use up his energy to the point where he cannot maintain his form.

He almost disappeared in Feita because of it. He disappeared because he went on a demon-killing-spree without keeping his energy level in check, and by the time he realized he used up too much energy, it was too late. Only through Elsword’s call he was able to gain his form again.

Now, you must be thinking what I am thinking.

3rd line Ain, henceforth called void ain for simplicity’s sake, could possibly get to Feita… comes across Dark El… loses his mind because of its demonic aura, goes on a killing spree (of demons) and uses up his energy and disappears completely?

Not wanting to disappear from existence, he latches on to any other power that he can hold on to, and the only lingering power in him other than the now-gone-power-of-Ishmael was the aftereffect of Henir when he was stuck in there…?

And what did Ishmael do…?

I know it’s a little early, but … 

Let me show you why I call him Void Ain.



  • Gott Vergessen
  • Nichts
  • Ende der Welt

God Forgot. 
End of the World.

Hey, does any of this sound like a power-hungry Ain who wants to destroy the world by using the energy of Dark El? Or does it sound like Ain who is disappointed at Ishmael for not saving him and leaving him to rot, like when he was first stuck in the chaos after the El Explosion and when he disappeared again in Feita? 

Is VOID, a nothingness, a power of the demon? Or is it a domain of the one who stands on the opposite side of the one who created existence in the first place?

I don’t know, why don’t you be the judge.

Thank you @ryuukine


Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Something was wrong with Dianite. It started with sudden bouts of chaos, not too unusual, but still out of place. Then went 0-100 in the blink of an eye. He viscously attacked his siblings, tried to break Ianite. He was going mad. And it was getting worse.

(AN: Once again, I watched S1 so very long ago, and my memory might be a tad foggy with some details. I was going to write more fluff, but my mind was like “You know the corruption in Mianite Awakening” and I was like, no, don’t go there, and it pulled out a knife and said “DO IT”. So here we are. Somewhat based on Mianite Awakening and partially on @maiatanfallan-arts what-if/headcanon (I swear I’m not stalking your blog…))

Tom was not scared. He was not intimidated, or feeling oppressed, or even a tiny bit fearful. Fuck no. He was super fucking worried. For a while all was peaceful. After the war, he had started (and kicked ass in), the Purge was put in place to stop any such event from taking place again. Strangely enough, the Purge was the first thing to show something was wrong with Dianite. On a day where rules meant nothing (apart from no killing, still very, very illegal), the zombie would have imagined that the Nether god would have thrived with the bouts of chaos that were unleashed. Instead, as the day came to a close, it seemed to have set him off…… but not in the usual way.

Admittedly, Dianite was the type to destroy things in his rages, needed a physical release for his emotions. This particular Purge day, however, led him to simply… glare. It was strange. Tom could tell he was upset, at what was a mystery. His eyes shone with an inner fire kindled by emotion and the markings along his body were glowing with a bright intensity. According to Furia (who still didn’t like Tom, but they united to assist the angered god) Dia had been standing there for nearly an hour. At one point, he had been so enraged that his horns started to let loose ashes from where they smoldered on the inside. (Tom personally though the demonic glowing was pretty hot, no pun intended, but this was not the time).

With Furia seemingly reluctant to approach the god, Tom took it upon himself to query, albeit a bit wary, as to what ailed him. As he came closer to the seated god, perched upon his throne in an uptight yet mighty fashion, the immortal’s eyes flicked to him. For a moment, the champion was stunned by the pressure hidden in those eyes, as though he was fighting something. (He would later, once he returned to this world, find out that this was the first time Dianite was close to losing against the corruption. The god insists that if he hadn’t walked up when he did, he would have fallen to it, even if only for a moment).

“Dia?” Tom addressed the god with a concerned frown. There was no response beyond a single blink. It was almost as though the god was… trying to recall where he was, what he was doing. The zombie strode closer to him, reaching out to carefully place his hand where it wouldn’t be burnt (Though it was hard to tell with the overall glowing skin). His touch seemed to draw him back, and with a breath, his markings started to fade to their traditional coloring. The Nether god slowly opened his arms, “Come here Tom.” On any other day, he would have bitched about being, well, the god’s bitch, but today was different. Skipping the pointless words, he elected to sink into the god’s lap, snuggling up into his chest and settling down. “Are you alright mate,” Tom asked once they had suitably wrapped around each other. He received no reply. And so, he worried more.


The next time was more… subtle, in a way. There were no obvious tells, but he felt something was off. In his recent trek through the Nether (getting more levels for enchanting) the pigmen seemed uncomfortable, the ghasts floating higher in the higher, passing by him with muted whimpers. It was almost as though the realm itself was waiting for something, warily expecting an event. It took a lot of effort not to full out run to Dianite’s personal temple.

Upon arrival the signs became clearer, subtle, but hard for a common guest to miss. The guards hid an anxious look in their eyes, the other passer-byes walked with an uneasy twitch and Furia seemed to be missing. The zombie strode through the corridors with purpose, making a bee-line for Dianite’s pseudo office. (Really, it was the room he pretended to do work in, while listening to the prayers of his scattered following). “Good morning sunshine!” Tom chose to loudly announce his entrance (never knocking, he knew the god could tell he was coming from miles away, but he enjoyed the theatrics) despite it being well past noon in the overworld. The god spared him a glance before returning to his staring contest with some bullshit excuse of a property claim against one of his followers (though he may be terrible with paperwork, or legal problems in general, he could point out the flaws in anyone’s argument, often taking out his opposition through purely undermining their side).

With a huff, Tom continued into the room, pulling wasting no time. “What is wrong?” Just as the time before, Dianite remained off, shoulders tense, face set in a strange stoic expression, and gave no reply. Sighing, the zombie resolutely took vigil on the armrest of Dia’s rather large chair. (When he first got it many of his followers teased him about how it was basically a couch, until he stopped looking at the paperwork of any who referenced it as such. They quickly shut up about it).

As the Nether god leaned back over the papers he was definitely not looking at, Tom took the chance to work out the knots in the gods back. With a firm hand, he worked for at least an hour, before the god pulled him down into his lap, and resumed his ‘work’. They stayed like this for the rest of the day, and the atmosphere seemed to lighten with each passing moment. (The gratitude the god let show in his eyes when he carried his sleepy champion to bed stayed with him in his dreams that night).


It was the night of the Ianite reveal. The telling of what Dianite did to her. Her heart, her very soul. Stolen. While the others fretted over their next course of action, Tom fled to the Nether. He had to see his god, needed to know. Why. What brought him to taking such drastic measures, even for their brand of chaos.

The lava world was full of a charged silence. No pigmen were to be found. Ghasts huddled far above, no sounds emitting from them. Blazes were plunged deep into lava lakes. It all felt one push away from snapping. His path to Dianite’s temple was met with no life.

He crept through abandoned hallways, his path to the throne room completely empty. No guards, no fellow followers (though few chose to trek this far regardless), no mobs, just silence. The only sound permeating the thickness of the air was the clack of his shoes on the nether brick. Before him the door to the throne room was cracked open, and gave no resistance when pushed farther.

There, upon the steps before the might chair, sat the Nether god. He was hunched over, a small shaking taking over his frame. He held his head in his hands, curled in on himself. Tom approached him with an uncharacteristic softness. “Dia?” he called out to the god.

There was no response until he was knelt before him. “What did I do,” he immortal whispered brokenly, “What did I do?” He had no answer that would help, nothing to say to make this better. The god lifted his head. For a moment, Tom was taken aback by how much his eyes had changed. They were shadowed, lacking the fire they often sported, and something swam beneath them, something new. And in that instance, Tom knew, no matter what anyone said, that something was wrong with his god, had been for a while now. It was then he doubted if Dianite even knew what was wrong.

Wordlessly Tom wrapped his arms around the god, offering the one comfort he could give. He rested his cheek on his head, brushing against his horns, and gently rocked him. They stayed like that for hours. (And if Dianite had let himself cry, sob wretchedly into Tom’s chest, the evidence was gone by the time the zombie had to leave, managing to arrive late to the meeting set by the heroes, but leave far too early from comforting his forsaken god).

(AN: This was SUPOSSED TO BE FLUFF. Why am I so terrible? I’m not  sure if I did the event justice ,as I was too lazy to look up the video to see how it really played out, but my main intent was to capture the guilt Dianite felt, so I guess it worked. I am a sucker for s1 Dianite actually being a good guy, just influenced for corrupted)

Mermaid Speaks Her Mind: SM, WTF???

This is a question I’ve been asking for years now, but even more so lately. We all know that there is no perfect K-Pop music company. We all know they’re corrupt in some way or another. But then you have SM, who are so dumb Red Velvet made a song about it. (Not really, I just really like “Dumb Dumb.”) With that said, here are my gripes with SM for the week.

1. Suddenly, EXO
So immediately after Red Velvet drops THE song of the summer–not to mention one of the best singles of their career–SM decides RV’s promo period has already ended, so they drop EXO teasers. SM has made it clear that if they’re going to promote a girl group, it’s going to be Red Velvet (since SNSD are now cougars by fanboy standards, and I’ll get into f(x) in a minute). So why cut that short in favor of EXO? Oh, yeah…it’s EXO. Listen, SM. Don’t worry about EXO ever becoming irrelevant. They’re a boy group, they’ll be fine, especially if Sechs Kies and Shinhwa are any indication. Feed your girl groups well, because your fanboys won’t for very long. Even more disappointing? The fresh, exciting new sound of “Red Flavor” will likely be overshadowed by what I’m expecting to be more tired tropical house in EXO’s “Ko Ko Bop.” That’s what all of the album teasers have sounded like so far, and given the way their EX’ACT album went, I don’t see much changing.

2. f(1)
Yes. I get it. f(x) as a whole group hasn’t been heard from since last year’s string of solo concerts (which feel so long ago to me that I, admittedly, had forgotten they happened. Also because I am an idiot). I know. And I firmly believe Sulli killed the group by leaving (no Top Visual Sulli = no fanboys = no sales). But what is the point in sending Luna to the SMTOWN concerts on her own? How hard is it to bring together a group you have under contract and say “Hey, get your asses to Tokyo right now or no more CFs for you?” Because Krystal is phoning it in at this point? Because Victoria and Amber can’t bear to leave a country that cares about them? Just say it: Red Velvet is replacing them. At least YG was transparent.

3. Station to Station
I’m gonna come out and say it. SM’s idea to bring in more international acts for their STATION program is an awful idea. It’s not bringing them anything. SM fans don’t care about American jazz quartets or indie singer-songwriters. SM fans’ biggest investment is in their oppas and noonas. So that’s why a lot of non-SM artists don’t really log sales on STATION like SM’s in-house talent does. To date, Xiumin and Mark’s “Young and Free” track boasts nearly 50,000+ sales after about a week. Compare that to Astrid Holiday’s “New Beginning”….I can’t find anything on it. In all fairness to Ms. Holiday (btw, give that one a listen, it really is a gem), SM is not the best place for her to promote, since, like I said, SM’s fans are more invested in their in-house talent, any anything else is crap. So from a marketing standpoint, it doesn’t work, and it’s a waste of money for both parties. (This also says a lot about some western K-Pop fans, too, who treat anything not Korean as less than. Which is funny, because…yeah.)

4. Station to (Same) Station
Nearly a week after Mark and Xiumin dropped “Young and Free,” SM sees it fit to put him back in the studio with Parc Jae Jung for “Lemonade Love,” which would be the NCT rapper’s second STATION track in a row. Just. Let the kid rest. And give someone else a chance. And by “someone” I mean a SHINee member that’s not Taemin, Jonghyun, or Onew, or maybe drop that track Yunho performed at SMTOWN in Seoul last week?

So I had this super fucking vivid dream last night, like a modern AU fallout 4. I remembered this scene in particular and kinda just started drawing without thinking, after trying to write down what I remembered about the dream, I couldn’t remember who it was that Cory was dragged to the hospital with (I think Piper after she put up a new article, the BPD/BoS)

Also I swore I would never draw a more ‘human/not ghoul’ Hancock, but after this dream-thing, I tried my best at more of a burn victim look to replicate ghoulification sure, not the whole face, but quite a good part of the left side of his body.

 gah it’s not 100% what I had in mind but it’s just a doodle, so whatever. ;n;

More below the cut if you want more info on the au thingy if you want to read about it.

Keep reading

I was tagged by @inside-corrupted-minds Thanks pal.

Rules: answer all the questions and tag 15 more people.

5 Things you’ll find in my bag
1. House key with way too many key chains because I’m lowkey a hoarder.
2. A Christmas coin purse with a robin on it. Usually doesn’t have much in it.
3. Lip balm even though I never remember to use it.
4. Blister plasters because they are better than regular ones.
5. A broken umbrella

5 things you’ll find in my bedroom
1. A large pile of mess because i never put anything away.
2. A groovy chick bin I’ve had since I was 6.
3. Doctor Who poster
4. Record player
5. Large box of vintage records

5 things I always wanted to do
1. Speak another language
2. Be a writer
3. Travel
4. Go up in a hot air balloon
5. Live in a big city

5 things that make you happy
1. Long walks in the woods
2. Going back to one of my knitting projects and remembering if I finished on a knit or purl.
3. Music
4. Doctor Who
5. Peeling nail polish off

5 things I’m currently into
1. Too many tv shows
2. Painting my nails a different colour every other day
3. Not doing any work for college because I’m unmotivated af
4. Memes
5. Starting fires in my room and almost setting the curtains alight

5 things on my to do list
1. Learn to drive even though I don’t want to.
2. Clean my room
3. Start writing again
4. Decide what uni’s to apply for
5. Don’t fail Biology

I tag @aprilmaclean @kieran-sw @en-jclras @yourawizardkatniss @dajo42 @timelordsaredicks @egonhotchner @recklessravager @rachel-blue-chameleon @ripfranksbeans @acecutiecharlie @phandwiches @nerdierandgeekier @huntitled @winniedapoop anyone else

So, I was thinking about AU Horus Heresy and you know how the accepted idea of Chaos Space Wolves is pretty much always as followers of Khorne? That makes sense but I really think Tzeentch makes more.

Now, you’re thinking “That’s crazy! The Wolves hate psykers and those are the Lord of Changes favorite buddies! Duh, Thousand Sons!” and at first, you’re right. But what else does that crazy daemon god love? Mutants. What’s the worst possible gene-seed mutation the Wolves can experience? The Wulfen, which, as most likely all of you know, turns them into a giant, mostly feral wolf.

Now imagine: The Wolves are sent to sanction the Sons, but Magnus didn’t let them attack like he did in canon. Prospero’s orbital defenses take a toll on the Imperial fleet, destroying several ships, mostly Sisters alike. By dumb luck(or was it sorcery on the side of a Legion of sorcerer’s?), most of the Sisters of Silence are lost before the surface conflict even begins.

The Battle for Tizca: The Wolves and Sons are mostly evenly matched, the numbers and ferocity of the Fenrisians a match for the psychic power of Magnus’ Legion. The Wolves are slowly pulling ahead in the conflict, due entirely to the valiant efforts of the Emperor’s Custodes.

The Final Duel: After hours of fighting, Russ stands, facing his most bitter enemy, Magnus the Red. Each of the primarchs has killed hundreds of his brother’s warriors and what would be the duel of the millennia(until Emps and Horus, of course) is about to begin. The two square up after a long pause, the battle between the Legions forgotten by everyone to watch this long fated rivalry finish. The Wolf King rushes the Cyclopean, planning to catch him off guard and finish his duty quickly. He moves so fast that none even realize what has happened until they see the corpse hit the ground.

The Aftermath: There is utter silence as the ring of Leman Russ’s armor slowly fades. Magnus doesn’t appear to have moved an inch and looks almost surprised. None could possibly know that his brother’s death is not the source of his surprise, rather it is the voice in his mind that has confused him.

if you won’t join me, I’ll make my own followers.

As the remaining Thousand Sons cheer, Magnus senses the warp energy gather and swirl around crowd. The Space Wolves howl in pain, having witnessed the death of their father and king, and they unleash their inner wolves to make their enemy pay. The Legion begins to mutate, growing fur and claws, muzzles elongating, spines arching, becoming the only thing they truly fear. The latent psychic energy surrounding them rushes in, corrupting their minds and bodies even more, creating nightmares out of once loyal astartes. The Lord of Changes leaves their intelligence intact; after all, mindless servants are useless to one such as it.

The monstrous Wolves turn their pain into power, ripping the Sons to shreds with claw and tooth. Magnus, recognizing that victory is impossible, gathers as many of his children as possible and flees the field with his now pitiful “Legion”. The few remaining Custodes and Sisters are left surrounded by the mutated Wolves, and are quickly slaughtered.

The once proud Vlka Fenryka return to their ships, following the whispers of their new Lord, to hunt the killer of their father though space and the warp.

Acts of Faith

I spoke at a Catholic university today and there was a bit of a kerfuffle so I wrote this piece in the car this afternoon and then I was on stage at my event and I was fucking terrified to read this but I looked out at the audience and all those students who were choosing to see me speak and so I said what I needed to say and then after people said I was courageous but really, I was just saying what I felt. 


I was raised Catholic and as the daughter of Haitian immigrants, it often felt like we were extra Catholic. Mass on Sundays, CCD during the week. It felt like God was everywhere, both literally and figuratively.

Growing up, I understood faith even if I didn’t always have faith, even if as I stand here now, I continue to struggle with faith. I understood that sometimes, you have to place your trust in something you cannot see or hear or taste or touch. You have to take that risk, without any guarantee that something will rise from your faith. You have to accept that taking the risk is a reward unto itself. Faith, when you think about it, is a lot like love. When I love, I love you regardless of the risk. I place my trust in something beyond the tangible and it is terrifying but I wouldn’t choose otherwise. I do not choose otherwise.

In 2014 I published a book of essays, Bad Feminist, and as such, I am often asked several of the same questions—why am I a feminist, how did I come to feminism, what is feminism, can men be feminists? I can rattle off stock answers about gender, equality and intersectionality and these answers are true but sometimes, they feel hollow, or perhaps, incomplete because my feminism is more than a sound byte. It is part of who I am. I believe feminism should be a part of all of us, a default setting for humanity.

I wrote this book and I am a feminist, but I am also a girl from Nebraska who is awkward and shy and who loves movies and Channing Tatum and playing Scrabble. It may seem strange given much of my writing, but I don’t think of myself as political or controversial. I am opinionated. I am passionate. I don’t feel, though, that this is remarkable. Most people nurture these qualities to one degree or another.

This morning, as I was finishing up packing my suitcase, I received an email from my speaking agent, saying he had gotten a “reminder,” from the student representative of the Free to Be organization that invited me to the St. Louis University campus.

Even earlier in the morning, the university’s assistant vice president called that student representative to remind them to remind ME that “SLU is a Catholic, Jesuit institution, and this talk should not violate that, aka not speaking to the pro-choice agenda.”

My temper flared immediately. I don’t like vague threats of censorship. I hate the word agenda when it is used as a blunt instrument, when it is used to imply that one with a so-called agenda is up to no good. I am a deeply flawed person but I pride myself on being concerned with the greater good, and seeking out goodness in myself and others. I thought about cancelling my appearance but then I reconsidered because really, what would that accomplish?

I was raised Catholic and ours was a deeply faithful household. Though I am rather lapsed, I am the better for it. In our home, God was a God of love. We were allowed and encouraged to question our faith and our relationship to God. We were never threatened with hell and damnation. Instead, we were taught the Ten Commandments and we read the Bible and we were asked to be good and to do what we could to foster goodness in the choices we made.

I must confess that Jesuits have always fascinated me. When I was young, I learned that Jesuits were the warriors of the faith, even more so than regular priests. I learned that they were dedicated to teaching and rigorous education. My brothers have often told me that they have never been more challenged than by the Jesuit priests who taught them in high school and college. They have shared their admiration of their Jesuit teachers with no small amount of pride. I also admire Jesuits because throughout history, they have been fierce advocates of social justice. In 1975, at the 32nnd General Congregation, the Jesuit Order stated, empathically, “The mission of the Society of Jesus today is the service of faith, of which the promotion of justice is an absolute requirement.”

I am, despite the ways I have suffered, a very lucky woman. I was raised by loving parents in a loving home. I have always been sheltered, clothed, fed. I have known material comfort. I have been afforded the best possible education. I have been broke, especially during my twenties, my lost years, but I have never wanted for employment. Today, I am reasonably successful and want for little. As the beneficiary of so many blessings, I am obligated, I think, to spend some of my time considering those who have not been so lucky. I am called to promote justice and this is an absolute requirement.

As meager as my contributions often feel, because I am just a writer, I tend to write about race, gender, sexuality and class. I write about what it means to be underrepresented and what it means to face systemic disadvantage and discrimination, the lifelong consequences of which can be staggering. I write because I hope that increasing awareness is a step toward progress and justice for us all.

I am a feminist, albeit a bad one at times, so I particularly give a damn about women, from all walks of life. I am constantly reminded of work that needs to be done to ensure that all women can move through the world with the same freedom as men. I want to ensure that women receive equal pay. I want to ensure that we can live our lives with some semblance of peace instead of worrying about the pervasive threat of sexual violence as a Sword of Damocles hanging over our heads. I want women to be as encouraged to be ambitious and bold as men are. I want us to benefit from equal opportunities to succeed, professionally and personally. I want men, women and transgender men and women to be freed from the rigidity of gender roles.

And because I am a feminist, I am deeply concerned with reproductive freedom and how unfettered access to affordable birth control is somehow, on the legislative table in many states and that even though abortion is legal, legislators in just as many states are working to curtail women’s access to a medical procedure that is their federally granted right.

Until women’s bodies and women’s choices are no longer subject to legislative whim, we are neither equal nor free. This is not an agenda. This is not a political or a controversial stance. This is a matter of justice. This is, for me, a matter of faith.

I was raised Catholic and as such, I was raised learning that as a woman, I should not engage in pre-marital sex, and, once married, I should not avail myself of birth control, and should I find myself pregnant, I should not have an abortion. I learned that to make such choices would be to sin, to commit grave evils. The older I got, the more difficult it was to find my place in a religion with such strictures. It was difficult for me to understand why I should place my faith in an institution that saw me primarily as a vessel for bringing children into the world when I knew myself, my mother, all the women in my life, to be so much more than that.  I am a bad feminist and, I guess, I am a bad Catholic.

In Bad Feminist, I write about how as a feminist, inclusion is important and how even when women make choices I would not make for myself, I support them and advocate for them. I say this because the older I get, the more I understand empathy and nuance and that life is complex. The more I understand that we don’t all have to agree to create change or make progress. We do, however, need to be mindful.  We need to be open. We need to respect the beliefs and choices of others.

I value life and its sanctity. I understand why Catholicism and so many other religions condemn abortion even if I cannot abide that condemnation. I understand but I place more value on the sanctity of women having the right to choose what happens to their bodies. I recognize the economic and sociopolitical consequences of motherhood and how women, more often than not, bear the responsibility of child rearing, so as such, choice becomes even more crucial. Such autonomy is sacrosanct. If you want to call that an agenda, I can live with that. If you disagree with my stance, I can respect that.

This morning I received an email that was, essentially a gesture of censorship. It was a message predicated on the assumption that I came here to corrupt young minds with an agenda. As I mulled it over I wondered how desperately fragile a faith must be if it cannot withstand critical engagement or diverse points of view.

Generally at events like this, I read a few essays and the audience and I have a fun, engaging conversation about social justice and popular culture. I do not consider it my responsibility to convert you to my way of thinking or to malign your way of thinking should we hold different points of view. Instead, it is my responsibility to encourage you to question, to think, critically about your beliefs and what they mean for this world we share and the people with whom we share this world. I offer, I hope, a small act of faith.

Giving Gavin Jeremy was more dangerous than Geoff had anticipated. He hadn’t meant to, exactly, had only needed someone to show the new kid the ropes, had trusted that Gavin would throw on his polished shine for long enough to go through the basics before ditching him somewhere. He hadn’t anticipated coming back hours later and seeing the two of them still together, loud and animated in their excitement, Jeremy bright eyed and overeager, Gavin more himself than he normally allowed around strangers.

Maybe that should have set off alarm bells, maybe Geoff should have stepped in and done something about it, but honestly he’d just been feeling fucking relieved. Falling into the highly selective pool of people Gavin has claimed as his own is intense, but it’s better than the alternative, better than unworkable aloofness, awkwardness masked by cold disinterest, or worse, active dislike. Dislike which wouldn’t be expressed, would be kept hidden behind false pleasantry and left festering for months before manifesting in malfunctions and incidents, jammed weapons and disabled break lines. A messy end.

And god it’s not like Geoff had known how far it would go, how one good start would grow into burning buildings and wicked laughter, how the seemingly calm and level-headed Jeremy would only amplify the calamity of Gavin at his most dangerous. The way Jeremy would provide enthusiastic encouragement, an ardent defender for when things got violent, a sounding board for bad ideas, a willing volunteer, and how in return Gavin would lavish him with praise and affection, stolen trinkets and his most dazzling megawatt smile.

They have something like Gavin and Michael’s dynamic, but where Michael draws lines, hauls Gavin back down to earth, tells him to piss off and go do his own thing for a while, Jeremy will bring Gavin the sun. Listens to every madcap idea with a delighted look on his face, as keen to participate as he was the day Geoff hired him, be it a plot to teach a violent rival crew a lesson with a firehose or the unnecessarily risky decision to rob a target while they attend the LSPD’s police ball. Regardless of how badly their last endeavour ended it never takes much more than one of Gavin’s wild grins to have Jeremy dropping whatever he’s doing and following him out the door, the rest of the crew watching on in despair as disturbing phrases like “trained alligator” and “confetti canon bloodbath” drift down the hall.  

Geoff worried. He adores Gavin but he knows him better than anyone, knows it’s his job to read people, to push their buttons and draw out the exact responses he’s looking for; he wouldn’t mess with a crew-mate on purpose but Geoff isn’t entirely sure he’s always conscious of it anymore, and Jeremy is still trying to find his place. Having all of Gavin’s attention is a bit like getting struck by lightning, awesome and terrible and utterly overwhelming, far too easy to lose yourself in. So Geoff has to ask, check a dozen times, determined to make sure his newest hire doesn’t feel compelled, knows his place within the crew doesn’t hinge on his participation in Gavin’s extracurricular activities, that Geoff was the only one who’s orders he actually had to follow.

Every attempt is met with amusement, Jeremy quietly pleased by the concern but firm in his assurance that he’s only playing along because he wants to, that this is all a part of what attracted him to the FAHC in the first place. It took a while for Geoff to see that his fears were unfounded, or at the very least misguided. To recognise that for all Jeremy’s apparent eager naivety in leaping to play a part in the allure of one of Gavin’s plans there was nothing at all innocent about the gleeful look in his eyes, the dark edge in his laugh, the way he pushed and prodded Gavin into plotting bigger and more daring escapades. As much the corruptor as he was the corrupted, an equal partner in the mayhem. And, well. Isn’t that worrying.