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thecuriousquest · 10 months

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Can u do yandere Levi x defiant reader who always gets into trouble

Learning is Painful Sometimes

Yandere Levi x Defiant Reader

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, nudity, whipping, implements, non consensual punishment, slapping, mentions of alcohol

Summary: Captain Levi is out of ideas on how to punish you. He has no choice but to step it up a notch.

Checkout my Master List here.

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He hates you so much, every single part of you that makes him want you. He hates how wet your lips look as the sun highlights them. He hates how your ODM harness clings to your thighs. It’s as if the leather on your body is teasing him. He just wants to grab that harness and pull you near him.

What he hates most of all about you are your eyes. He hates the defiant look in those (E/C) orbs, the glare that has the gall to challenge him. He wants to slap you right across your face, palm itching to feel your skin. He wants to see if he can teasingly pull that expression of noncompliance from you just as you pulled his heart from his chest the first time he laid eyes on you.

“Really? Again?” It’s all he says. It’s all he has to say. You know exactly what you did to land yourself in this situation.

“I already cleaned your damn office twice. I’m not doing it again.”

“You’ll watch how you speak to me, cadet. Such a shame. You really do have the potential to serve the corps greatly. How would it feel to have all of that go to waste? I could send you home at anytime I please. You could be dishonorably discharged. Imagine how your family would take the news. They’d probably never look at you the same again.”

“Don’t you speak of my family. You don’t know a goddamn thing!”

“I know all I need to know.” He sits down, crossing one leg over another. “I know your father is a piece of shit alcoholic who can barely contain his anger. I know your mother tried to kill herself when you were six years old. Oh, and your little brother, how could I forget? He was so proud when you were accepted into the corps. That image of you could crumble at anytime I see fit.”

You stifle a shuddering breath.

Levi continues. “We find alcohol in your room more often than not, you steal extra rations, you go off and fight titans when you’re ordered to stay put, and you barely do what you’re told. You’re a sorry excuse for a soldier. It seems as though your past several cleaning sessions have had no effect on you. Maybe I’m just not teaching you a lesson well enough.”

Your eyes widen, catching his threat. “Captain Levi, I assure you that your punishments are…more than enough.” Redness colors your cheeks, spreading to your ears out of embarrassment.

“Really? Then, perhaps you could explain to me why you’re not learning.” He leans forward only slightly.

You feel parched. Your mouth and throat are drier than a desert. It’s as if you never had water before in your life. Standing there while searching for an answer is grueling because you have nothing to give him.

Huffing out of annoyance, you cross your arms and give him the dirtiest look you can muster. There’s that challenging twinkle in your eye again.

“Fine, if you want me to fucking clean your office AGAIN, I’ll do it.”

“Let me get one thing straight, cadet.” He stands up and walks over to you. “You don’t tell me that you’ll clean my office again. I know you will because it’s an order. Secondly, it seems as though I have to step up your punishment from just cleaning.”

You look at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”

“If you want to act like a fucking brat, I guess I’ll just have to treat you like one.” His hand curls around the back of your neck. He forces you to lower yourself down to his ear. “Strip for me.”

You attempt to push him away. “What? No! I’m not getting naked, you perv-”

Shockwaves slam right into your cheek. You stumble slightly, holding your rosy flesh. The impact of the slap has you holding onto the captain’s desk with your free hand as you pant.

Fuck, he’s been waiting so long to do that.

You look at him with anguish. You want to fight back, but you know you’ll be in a jail cell before you can even contemplate what’s happening. The last thing you want is to be locked up for the night.

“What the hell?!” You cry out.

Levi removes his jacket, hanging it up neatly. “You’re a brat. Brats need strict discipline and a firm hand.” The amazing soldier walks back over to you, gray eyes looking at you with a harrowingly intense gaze. “You just got a taste of what’s to come your way. Now, strip, cadet, or would you like for your right cheek to match the left?”

Uncomfortably, you find your fingers fiddling with the straps of your ODM harness. You feel humiliated by how he looks at you as you undress. Every article of clothing that falls from your body, Levi demands that you fold it neatly and place it on the desk. It’s hard for you to obey him. You really just want to leave your clothes on the floor just to see what he’ll do if you don’t pick them up, but your face still hurts from the harsh slap he delivered earlier.

Levi circles you like a shark. His eyes roam over your body, taking you in. To him, you’re absolutely astounding. It riles him up how you make him want you. He wants to cut off the hands of any man who even looks your way to make sure they don’t touch you. No, your body is solely for him.

You try to clutch your bare chest and sex, hating how you feel under his heavy gaze. He’s fucking strangling you with his eyes.

His hands force your wrists down by your sides, and he takes in the view. Like a surreal night sky twinkling with stars surrounding a pale moon, he gazes at your natural beauty. Yes, it’s all for him and only him.

“Captain…can I put my clothes back on now?”

His dark chuckle surprises you. “Oh, (L/N), I didn’t think you were that stupid. No, we’re nowhere near done.”

———

He has you sprawled across his desk with your legs spread slightly. Levi hits you again with his shiny black whip. Lacerations brand your skin as he marks you several times over. At first, you tried to bite your lip and force back sobs, but now, they’re taking over your shivering body. It’s too much, too excruciating.

You fight titans when you’re told not to, enduring the pain of hunting down and killing monsters who are more than capable of fighting back. You’ve been severely injured only a handful of times before you finally learned how to actually kill them. It wasn’t easy, but you managed to learn simply by watching your captain, studying his sharp movements.

The pain from being hit by a titan doesn’t even feel close to this whipping. He aims at the lower half of your bottom and thighs, drawing blood from where the implement bites your skin a bit too hard. A throbbing pain sinks deep within your muscles, causing your bottom and thighs to quake as you cough from all of the wailing.

Levi steps into your field of vision, holding his whip. “Is this what I have to resort to from now on to make you listen? Do I have to whip your unruly ass every time you disobey me?”

You rest your cheek on the desk, trying so hard to keep your eyes on his. “N-no, C-Captain. N-no m-more.” It’s pathetic how you beg.

He’s happy to note that the defiance has been wiped from your eyes for the time being. He pats a particularly nasty welt on your butt, causing you to hiss from the contact.

“I expect better from you. Go back to your room and get some rest. You’ll be cleaning my office later tonight while everyone is having dinner.”

Getting up on all fours is harder than you thought it would be as you get down from the desk. You grab your clothes, moving to put them on.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?”

“You- you told me to go back to my room.”

“Yes, I didn’t say you could put your clothes back on. You’ll walk to your room as you are. On your way, cadet. Don’t be late to my office this evening.”

You didn’t think your cheeks and ears could feel any hotter. Instead of getting dressed, you carry your clothes, shoes, and harness in your arms as you shamefully walk back to your room, your welted, cut, and swollen bottom on display.

That’s what you get when you defy Captain Levi Ackerman.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #captain levi #levi ackerman #yandere #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi x reader #levi attack on titan #aot levi #levi aot #levi is hot #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x resisting reader #Yandere x defiant reader

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blueparadis · 1 year

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❝ TIMELESS TWILIGHT ❞ + ARMIN ARLERT

CWs —» afab!reader with s!her pronouns,semi-linear plotline, suggestive themes, royal au + supernatural au ( reader is a supernatural being ), strangers (to childhood friends) to lovers, slowburn, light angst, mention of corruption, violence and murder, temporary unrequited feelings, implicit smut descriptions,sappy romance and happy ending.

+. PLAYLIST—» moonlight ╾╼ somebody that I used to know ╾╼ rewrite the starts ╾╼ until i found you ╾╼ miel

PRECIS —» Armin was a chaser of eternity while she was a slave of it. One yearned for it, the other despised it until a thread of tragedy tied them together, forever.

+. NOTES —» this is for @dearbraus via @suyacho ’s gift exchange collab. hope you like this piece. I was confused between noé and armin but settled with the latter because this idea was originally thought for him.

I got this idea around april but finally, i could write this thanks to eden for that <3; also, this fic was partly inspired by the song moonlight by dhruv. I'm very much sleep deprived, so lemme sleep while y'all have a happy read. Merry Christmas (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ

Special thanks to @orchid3a, @sailewhoremoon & @chosovixen for ß’reading this. also, you can read this in AO(III) ; browse more of my works through navigation links.

Museums, sculptures, libraries, books, songs, stories, poetries, paintings— all these had one thing in common: that is, they were eternal. They carried so many memories with them and yet were so defunct. And then, there are humans that live and die like flies. Ever since Armin was bestowed with the ability to walk he would only use it to go to the library or to sneak out through the back door of his room into the garden, or anywhere that does not remind him of the burden he has to carry till his last breath, the burden of protecting each and every person around him— the burden of this whole kingdom that his father ruled.

He never asked for this life, the luxury, the fame, and the power that came with it. His father had told him that everything that the light touched belonged to him, but only one thought crossed his mind: for how long? Armin did not have to ask anyone to find the answer to that question. He saw it, he lived it. The fragility of his life.

At that moment, when he was on the brink of destroying thousands of lives in one blow, hesitation overpowered his senses; the man kneeling in front of him, waiting for death to embrace him to save him from such shame, gutted him in the stomach. So annoying, Armin thought and slashed the head of the ruler of the kingdom.

He was nineteen when he owned a new kingdom, a hefty crown adorned with the most lustrous jewels in the city, and the queen that was promised along with it. To his father’s disappointment, he denounced it, the kingdom, and the kingless queen. Oh no, that does not mean he did not enjoy the greater pleasures of life. He did, through and through, he is the crown prince, and anyone who denied his demands would be rendered lifeless, a mere memory just like stories, books, and sculptures.

He was desired by many, even males. Some people knelt to him to please him, while others were doomed to become an unpleasant distant memory. There was no in-between, no mercy came from the heart of the crown prince. He was not cruel, just a rageful young boy who desired things that seemed impossible to achieve, at least in this life. He envies lifeless things that do not have a lifespan. How utterly foolish!

Sometimes he would laugh at himself, thinking he had been born cursed, a little sick in the head, but his diary told otherwise. He kept it in the library, the journal with sapphire covers and his family emblem. It rested among those massive books that carried the history of great generations and his ancestors so that none, even Mikasa and Eren would not be aware of him, his truth, his true self. Half of him was amused by how all his writing mocked the rich legends that his father boasts at every royal dinner, while the other half, wept like a wounded creature for not being able to make his dreams come true. He is the crown prince, the prince yet all that power fell short of his dreams to achieve; to hold someone in his arms timelessly and to fall in love limitlessly.

Armin could think of only one name, y/n l/n. The girl who left him without finishing her stories. The girl who met him only during Twilight, smelt like forever, and looked like one of those decaying sculptures of Rome.

The Library, that place has always been a wonder to her, y/n. Books stacked beside one after the other embedded with lores and legends from all over the world. Most are sugar-coated, few are the resultant of figmentation and truth but none told the bitter truth. The poets lied, love is not a prince saving princess, love is a princess waiting for the prince for eternity; love is not sharing kisses under the starry night, love is being burnt by mere words. Love is not divine, rather it is the most wretched curse.

Ever since she discovered the existence of the library, she had been fond of how lies are woven so slyly that even the witness failed to separate the truth from fallacies. She had been the witness to how all the kings confiscated the castle, slaughtered the innocents, and had all the women as baits for bodily pleasure, but those rusted pages of the book told how the ferocious warriors, ‘envoys of justice’, ‘harbingers of peace’, or so they liked to call themselves; those warriors killed so many cruel kings and saved the people of the kingdom from their madness. Same lies, different names, different times.

Eternity was nothing like she imagined it would be. It was never a promise of happiness, but rather a promise of loneliness. Heck, even promises faded with time, yet this followed her like a shadow. Even love failed to fill the hollow space she had in her heart. She stopped believing in good but did no evil. Indeed, she had the power to rewrite history, but that could endanger her life, even if she was at the edge of death. But hope can be a dangerous thing for a girl who has lived through an aeon, and it shone miraculously on a full moon night.

There was a particular book that caught her eye. The spine was slim, with a plain sapphire spread and a logo embedded on one of its ends. She perfectly remembers that a few days ago the book was not there and a certain someone is a fool enough to keep it among the books that have all scarlet bindings. But she should not let that bother her so much. Besides, she is here to read; read about how her lover turned against her, exchanged her to get a few coppers and silvers a century ago yet died at her hands. It was tragic, of course: to watch your beloved betray your love and trust, but ecstasy gushed into her veins when she killed him by burying her fangs into his neck, absorbing the life out of him.

At first, eternity was a boon, and now it is a bane. At first, killing was out of rage and now killing was the only way of survival. She took a few steps back from the family shelf of Tyburs, and stood in front of the Arlerts family shelf. For a minute, she let her fingers run through the books and halted at the sapphire one, which had the royal emblem of the kingdom. She took out the book, thinking it would not hurt to spare an hour or two, after all, she had all eternity.

It was a journal. The handwriting was neat and artsy. The front cover read, “my daily dose of dread.” What a child! She thought, but alas, she could not open the journal. She presumed that it was sealed with magic. And, just like the cascade, the emotions that she locked away when she buried her lover in a grave gushed in her body, through every vein, through each vein. She felt alive again.

The next day, y/n spent the whole day outside observing the humans in the town, gathering some intel. After two weeks, when night befell, she made her way where she wanted to be all this time, the library, the very palace where she loved to sneak in and read those great lies and laugh at the dead. She waited till she heard footsteps, to her surprise it was a boy of fifteen, the son of Duke Arlert. It has been almost a century since she had any human interaction. And now, a boy of fifteen with all the life ahead and innocence intact became alien to her. It thrilled her.

“Who are you?”, the boy asked with aimless, oceanic eyes that had the tragedy of the great Gatsby. She jolted, blinked and took a few steps forward, bowed down in front of the boy and whispered, “I’m the new cataloger, your highness.” And that day, a new friendship was born. Only the moon and the stars were the witness of it.

Unbelievable it seemed to her, for how Armin warmed up to her so quickly. Y/n used to wait for him during nighttime at one corner of the library till he would come to her. Gradually he learnt to use the loopholes in the rules of royal court just so he could hear stories from her, stories that were not written on any of the books, stories that talked about the origin of fairies and monsters. Some days Armin refused to go to his chambers just to hear such stories from her, some days he fell asleep in her lap while she was reading out stories to him. The very stories that he despised so much became engaging to him. He started to take interest in royal duties too.

Sometimes, Armin waited alone in that library but he never asked questions like, ‘Why do your eyes change color? How come I do not see you when I come during the day?’ He was kind to y/n, kinder than most people she had met, killed, or had to betray, but at the same time, those questions weighed heavy on her heart and died at the tip of her tongue whenever she came to visit Armin. As Armin grew up, her visits became less frequent. With all the agony and anger in him, Armin never bothered to ask why. Moreover, he didn't want to cease those pixelated visits from her, however fleeting they became, they belonged to him and only him.

On his twentieth birthday, y/n went to the main court to join the celebration, mostly at his request. Amongst so many souls you felt lifeless as if you were a sculpture. And then, you saw the boy of fifteen who has reached his peak of youth.

Armin still has those eyes of tragedy, that would tell you nothing except stories that never ended, stories that were abandoned by their auth,or or where the author had died before finishing it. But today, those blue eyes were not blue anymore. They were gleaming in hope and yearning as he watched you walking towards him surfing through the crowd.

Armin was sitting on the throne, with his cape flowing down past his ankles with the crown that sealed many fates of varied rulers. There was a line of visitors to meet him, you were one of them, just for today. Your turn came in “Happy birthday, your highness. Congratulations on your coronation. I wish you the very best of life.”, you uttered as you handed him the gift. He smiled. With a bow, you left his sight. That was it; nothing special happened. There were no secret smiles and stolen stares. It ended so soon, happened so fast that all you felt was remorse. But you did not let that linger on your mind since you knew that, late at night, when everyone would be asleep, Armin would come to visit you. He was not a creature of the night. You were. But it turned on you that very day when you waited for him till dawn.

A girl who had eternity started counting the days.

Four weeks and three days have passed yet Armin neither came for a visit to the library nor wrote about his days in his journal. You remembered how he told you that you should not read his journal, it’s personal, he said yet would sometimes read from that very journal, just some musings. A few days later, you could hear his name in waves and in whispers, that he conquered several kingdoms, that he won many wars, and perhaps would conquer the whole world. The entire kingdom rejoiced at his success, however, you could not. You missed him. You mourned a living person since he never wrote about such dreams in his journal. Maybe that person was long-lost, somewhere in the pages of the books that anyone no longer bothered to read.

After almost five years, Armin returned home. He had abandoned all sorts of hope to see her again. The only girl who could feel what he was thinking, the only girl who could see behind his eyes, and live in between his bedsheets. He had desired her day and night, at each passing moment, in every way a man could ever desire a woman. He remembers the feeling, the feeling that has always haunted him since childhood, people called it love while Armin could call it burning, burning with desire, yet remained lifelessly indifferent about it. True love, as they said, but Armin thought it was punishment.

He was on horseback with his sword tucked in his belt which was made of gold and silver. His mantle shrouded the armor, which had witnessed many battles and mishaps, and was embedded with rare gems and pearls carving his family emblem on the mantle spread. His blue eyes wandered everywhere, he looked every bit of regal he was.

His own home city felt foreign to him except her, except you, who stood young and beautiful amongst several bouquets of flowers receiving smiles and coins in exchange for said flowers in broad daylight. Even after five years, you look just the same; just like how he saw you that day on a full moon night for the first time. So many things to tell you, so many things to write in his journal yet all he could do was to watch you from a distance.

Armin dismounted from the horse, and a gust of wind swayed his hood off, revealing his blonde hair that kissed his shoulder blades. There he was, standing on the opposite side of the lane, with his right arm resting on his sword, his azure eyes locked on you while everything around you seemed to evaporate. When you shifted your gaze from the customers onto him, his lips took an upward curve and your heartbeats ceased to exist.

The lane between the two of you was filled with people that lead their life without being aware of the tragedies evoked by two distant souls. The dusk was approaching; the crimson sun rays fell short on them, for it witnessed two polar souls burn with desire for each other. It seemed like an endless twilight where only they could exist and none other. Armin took a step forward to cross the lane while all the flowers in the shop closed their petals as if they were to witness the greatest kiss of timeless love, but alas! Tragedy befell them.

It happened within a blink. When y/n opened her eyes, she watched Armin fall to his knees with a wound near his heart. The crowd became unruly; while everyone was fleeing from the scene your feet moved on their own to save him, to stop his bleeding, to do anything, anything at all that would save his life, but before you could barely cross half of the street, your senses betrayed you. It was such a mighty fall, for both of them.

“Oh! You’re awake?”, a bold voice, ruptured your eardrums that could still hear the screams of the locals. A finger traced your face as you opened your eyes, and you saw the face that you have mourned for so long, so silently, that you failed to realize the budding love at the bottom of your heart.

“Yo-you are okay?”, you gasped, blurted out in a hurry to check his wound. It was not there anymore. What actually happened back then?

“How can I not be?”Armin stated, taking a seat near you at the edge of the bed, “What was the last thing you remember, y/n?”, his fingers found their way irrevocably in between yours.

“... that you were bleeding. Everyone was running…to save …”, Armin placed his index on your lips saying, “I was wounded before I came to see you. I wanted to see you for the last time…”, he leaned against your forehead, continuing, “... but you, you y/n saved me.”

It must have been the power of love. A voice mocked the back of your head, but then Armin showed you a pendant; the very pendant that you gifted him on his coronation day. It was embedded with magic. It carried the untimely dead souls, people who departed before their time came.

“This. This has been saving me every time.”, Armin smiled looking at your astonished face.

“You knew about me? All this time?”, you asked, a little offended by the childish tantrum he pulled.

“Of course, love.”, he reported meekly before kissing your lips that he had been dying to taste. You moaned as he advanced his way, his hands palming your face. His touch was so tender and soft that it felt as if he was afraid to touch you, what if you break again?

You looked at him as your lips whispered, “Even before you touched me, I belonged to you, Armin. All you had to do was to look at me. I was right there, with you, the whole damn time.”

—

@tokyometronetwork

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uncivilcivilservice · 1 year

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Happy Birthday!! I hope it's been a great day!

What's your favorite VC birthday headcanon?

Thank you!!! It was quite a good day, the whole country threw a massive surprise party, with big parades of horses, and lots of street parties, just a shame about the weather. Even the king and queen showed up apparantly, which was very thoughtful of them. A few too many union jack decorations for my liking, which is weird because I didn't think I was known for being much of a nationalist, but it's the thought that counts :)

Terrible, awful jokes aside, have some birthday headcanons!

During the Night Island era, Armand went big on Daniel's birthdays. I'm talking huge, beautifully catered meals tailored to Daniel's tastes, themed parties across the island, firework displays for them to watch from the villa or from a private yacht out in the ocean, performers etc. And this is to say nothing of the absolute mountain of expensive gifts he gets Daniel. It's a multi-day affair, and Daniel honestly finds it kind of overwhelming but it makes Armand so happy to be able to shower this much attention and love onto him, and he's just grinning ear to ear watching Daniel take it all in, so Daniel lets it happen.

Later, after their reunion, they prefer to use Daniel's birthday as an excuse to get away, just the two of them, on a trip somewhere. They try and choose places that neither of them are that familiar with, or that have changed a lot since they've last been. They spend the time exploring, and trying new things, being a bit silly, and just having fun together. It's the closest either of them feel to their early years together.

Armand is still planning to throw the party to end all parties on Daniel's 100th birthday though.

Armand also still gets to plan and throw parties/celebrations for his loved ones, specifically for Sybelle and Benji. Each year he uses one of their birthdays to throw a huge party and invite everyone they know, and to bring as many people as possible to Trinity Gate. There are performers, and a lot of spectacle and it's all very showy and impressive. But he alternates this with a more personal celebration for one of them each year, with just their close family/friends, based around the interests of whoever the event is for.

Louis has promised to set Trinity Gate on fire if Armand ever plans a huge party like that for him, he has enough problems with Lestat trying to do things like that at court.

Armand makes sure he can always spend Louis birthday with him, whether that means just staying in and relaxing with him, or whether he manages to coax him out to go and see or do something they'll enjoy.

Armand also puts a lot of effort into Louis gifts, hunting down rare editions of his favourite books for example, or having custom pieces of furniture made for the library.

Oops, this ended up all being headcanons about how Armand celebrates his loved ones birthdays, but I think given how he shows his affection through acts of service and gift giving, I think he takes birthdays as the opportunity they are to lavish the people he cares about with love and affection. He also likes playing host and planning events in my mind, so it's a good opportunity for that.

#Thank you for the ask! This was a lot of fun to think about #armand/daniel #Daniel molloy #sybelle #armand/louis #louis pointe du lac #armand #benji #trinity gate #vc headcanons #vc #answered #daniel #devil's minion

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kirakiwiwrites · 1 year

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My top 10 fics . . . (according to A03)

Thanks to @bitbybitwrites for tagging me in this challenge! ☺️

Rules: List your "top 10" (or up to 10 if you haven't written that many) fics ranked by kudos on AO3. Are you surprised by what's most popular to your readers? Then, under a cut, provide your ranking of your personal top 10 fics (with explanations if you want!), and then tag a few fellow writers!

Tagging ( and only do this if you are interested and apologies if you've done this and I missed your post): @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion and @ericdooley

Top 10 according to readers:

1) Closer to You -145,303 words

2) Vicious -121,874 words

3) What Is This Feeling? -168,180 words

4) Lessons in Love -10,898 words

5) City Of Heartbreak -89,829 words

6) The Ten Year Dalton Reunion -7,405 words

7) Kurt Hummel and the Seven Warblers -50,462 words

8) Moonlight and Love Bites -58,213 words

9) It Takes Two To Tango -2,029 words

10) Make Food and War -6,759 words

I decided to just talk about the ones highest ranked since I don’t know how I would rank them lol. I only had one I didn’t love writing, but they each had things I liked and disliked. -K

Closer to You is the highest and it’s our first story to ever get over 100 kudos! We are still blown away by that. It’s probably due to biker, tattooed Blaine and daddy Kurt, but who knows lol. This idea had been on the list for awhile. We like to start with a trope or theme for a story and build it from there so for this one we had a bad boy Blaine, Kurt as a dad, a love triangle, and the setting as California. There are plenty of amazing fics with these themes out there, so we always try to do things a little differently and put our own little spin on things. We also love writing Cooper and love the Sam/Tina/Blaine friendship, so we used those relationships for this one. Writing Kit was really fun, especially deciding what would be his own little personality and what would be Finn-like. We wanted to show some elements of grief, like everyone around Finn but also how Cooper and Blaine grieved for the family they always wanted but never got. It was a very fun and emotional story to write and we were super glad everyone responded to it as well as they did.

Vicious is next! For this one, we wanted to do the skank/bad boy Kurt trope, a band fic, and have a Blaine with a dump truck of emotional baggage. We tried to use some different characters this time, namely the ones that might be most likely to be in a band with Kurt. We have favorites as you can probably tell, but we do try to switch things up occasionally. The idea originated with the song Vicious by Halestorm (a band I’ve been obsessed with for years) and how it would be perfect for Kurt if he had let all the bullying and such get to him. We also paid homage to a lot of the artists we have enjoyed for years. It all kind of came together after that. We wanted to explore found family, how Kurt and Burt would come back together if estranged, and Blaine fighting anxiety and abandonment issues. I’m proud this one is second because we worked very hard on it.

What Is This Feeling? being third is amazing because it was the second fanfic we ever wrote! We did a different writing style with first person point of view and wrote from lots of different character’s perspectives. It was so much fun and probably out of all the fics we have done, sticks as closest to canon. Blaine is a bit out of character, but it worked with the story. We also got to write Cooper as a parent which was fun. Wicked is my favorite musical and one of my sister’s absolute favorites too, so it was a no brainer to name it after the song. The themes for this one started as a rivals to lovers, the jock/cheerleader trope, and family. I believe it’s our longest one too. We just couldn’t stop writing!

Lessons In Love was a commissioned piece that was fun and challenging. We have done a few commissions and it’s always a lot of pressure to make sure we get things right! The person it was written for was so lovely and it’s such a good feeling when the person you wrote something for really likes it! The prompt was either Kurt or Blaine was famous, age gap (at least in college), or a soul mate fic. We decided to go with the first two and it all kind of flowed from there.

City of Heartbreak didn’t start out as a Klaine fic, but we were enjoying writing it so much that we turned it into one! For the tropes, we decided on coffee shop, piano bar, and a love triangle (sort of) We thought it would be interesting to have Kurt be the entertainer in the piano bar since we usually see Blaine in that role in other fics. Writing Kurt’s horrible ex was one of the first times we used an original character as a main character and we also got to write Blaine as having supportive parents. We like to do that when we get the opportunity because we always get a lot of appreciative comments. It’s always very nice when someone likes (or hates lol) a character you have made up yourself!

The Ten Year Dalton Reunion was another commission that was so fun to write! We wrote it for another lovely person and it was actually our first commission! We were extremely nervous about making sure we did a good job, but we just tried to have fun with it! Doing these types of commissions also allows us to interact with more people because as an introvert with anxiety, it’s hard to branch out sometimes. So it’s so nice to get to know more people in the fandom! We were asked for married Klaine going to Dalton for a ten year reunion, Niff, Warblers, etc. we know not everyone likes or gets Niff, but we have always liked them as a couple, especially as another gay couple to be friends with Klaine.

Kurt Hummel and The Seven Warblers was written so easily and came together so quickly. It was the first one I did the majority of writing on by myself, so the fact that it’s in the top ten is so amazing! I wanted to do a fairytale retelling and there were so many amazing ones out there, but when I had the idea for this one I hadn’t really found a Snow White fic I liked yet. We tried to make it unique and cute and it was so much fun to write. We put a whole lot of references in there from the original story and from the Disney movie.

Moonlight and Love Bites was our take on the vampire/werewolf trope and we had a lot of fun with it. There is a lot of those fics out there, but most of them are pretty angsty. There’s nothing wrong with that of course and we love several of them, but we wanted to do a cute fluffy schoolboy fic where they happened to be a werewolf and a vampire. We still have plans for a sequel (sorry to anyone who is still waiting on that 😅) that we hope to get out soon. We have been working on it, but it’s been a little difficult. The second part will focus on Klaine’s continuing relationship difficulties as they go to college. We just had our first fanart made from this story and we legit cried!

It Takes Two to Tango is next on the list and it’s just a very short one shot that we wrote from a Klaine group prompt! We love doing prompts when we can come up with a good idea and this one made us chuckle.

Make Food and War was another group prompt that we did. Rivals to lovers is one of our favorite tropes and we couldn’t resist dueling food trucks lol.

We would like to thank people for reading our fics and being so supportive! We appreciate this fandom so much and it truly is something that we can escape to when we need to relax. We have gotten to interact with some really amazing people through fanfic and we appreciate it so much. We are truly humbled that we have had the response we have. Much love A and K

#glee #klaine #klaine fanfiction #kirakiwi #top ten #a03

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kl125 · 2 years

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Which season of ST has been your favourite and why? 😊

Definitely Season Four. I always love when characters get a chance at introspection, because it deepens our understanding of them. We start to put the pieces together of why they do certain things and act a certain way. More under the cut!

One of the main themes this season was trauma. What have these characters gone through to get them to this point, and how has that affected their psyche? Not every character got a full deep dive, as a show only has so much time, but what we did see was fabulous! I want to focus on Hopper, El, Max, Mike, Will, and Lucas, because those arcs connect in rather compelling way.

(Keep in mind, these are snippets, and it’s my reading of what’s happening, so I understand that important elements could be missed or left out or interpreted a different way.)

Hopper feels incapable of creating lasting bonds with people, so he pushes everyone away to prevent the inevitable heartbreak. Better to stop something before it starts, than to let it ultimately destroy everyone involved.

El feels like a monster, and who could ever love a monster? She questions if she’s worthy of everything she’s found since escaping the lab (family, friends, a home, a sense of belonging, love). Is she the superhero, or the supervillain? Is she like Mama, or like Papa? Or worse, is she like Henry?

Max feels guilty for wishing death upon Billy, as it lead to a breakdown of her home life, and she sees the cruelty of this desire and connects it to the same cruelty she saw in Billy. Instead of sharing her burdens, she cuts herself off to protect her friends from discovering this shame, preserving the positive image they currently have of her.

Mike feels inadequate among his circle of friends, and he’s lost his sense of self. There’s artistic Will, strategic Max, courageous Lucas, intelligent Dustin, and powerful El. He wonders where he fits in this dynamic. He used to be the compassionate leader, but is this role even needed? And if it’s not, will that lead his most treasured people in his life to abandon him?

Will feels like a mistake. His experiences (the Upside Down and the Mind Flayer) coupled with his identity issues make him wonder if his friends and family would even care if he’s gone. He worries that the six months apart have created a rift so deep, there’s nothing left to do but get lost in it.

Lucas feels like he’s blinded himself to his friend’s struggles (namely Max) in his pursuit for normalcy in a very abnormal world. He’s grown resentful of his nerdy side, but rather than reconcile his opposing personalities, he rejects the one he sees as weak, at the cost of alienating his friends and himself.

These are all very brief overviews, but the important part is that they have a well-defined arc. They start with all of this lingering insecurity, but by the end, they resolve these issues and begin piecing themselves back together. It’s a beautiful story about isolation, represented physically by the different locations, and the power of acceptance, not just of the people around you, but of yourself.

As for my feelings on the other seasons, they are as follows.

Season One is absolutely perfect. It’s one of the best seasons of television, in my humble opinion. The characters each have distinct personalities and individual motivations with clearly defined arcs. The story is compelling, drawing on just enough nostalgia to make it feel familiar, while also making sure it still feels fresh and original. The synth-driven score and muted color palette enhance the tone of mystery, and the cinematography is gorgeous. It would have worked perfectly as a limited series, as originally intended, however because we now have three more seasons, I view that one with the thought, “The best is yet to come.”

With Season Two, it felt like a tool to setup plot points that wouldn’t pay off until later seasons, so some things feel incomplete. A great example is Max’s arc. She has a very gradual journey through the story, and it’s entirely purposeful, but because the climax comes in Season Four, everything we see in Season Two contains an air of “what’s hiding under the surface?” As for other elements, it’s very tonally similar to Season One. They’re moving away from childhood innocence, and preparing for more mature themes to come. If Season Four is the season they lose, then Season Two is the season they win. By the end, their lives are tied up in a neat little bow, but the Upside Down is still out there.

While I enjoyed Season Three, it was a major departure from the first two seasons. It felt like it was trying to be a both a romantic comedy and a self-contained mystery amidst a larger-than-life blockbuster, and it didn’t quite hit the mark on any of them. The jarring tonal shifts took many people out of the story, and it left us confused as to what they were trying to accomplish.

Season Four felt like a course correction, and a successful one at that. The Duffers took the time to ask, “What makes Stranger Things unique?” Boy, did they nail it. It’s the people. Their inner struggles, manifested as otherworldly monsters, push them through the mystery each season. We needed a reminder of why we root for these unlikely heroes.

The best decision was making Vecna a largely practical effect, like the Demogorgan in Season One. The Mind Flayer worked in Season Two, because Noah’s performance grounded the experience. We only got glimpses of its real form. However, Season Three made the monster unrealistic basing it entirely on CGI. The VFX is phenomenal, but it’s hard to imagine them fighting this iteration of the Mind Flayer. It’s not that CGI can’t make a compelling monster, but the show has spent so much time building up the realistic parts of the mystery, that an entirely fake opponent didn’t mesh well with the dynamic. With Vecna, not only is he a real person (the absolutely fantastic Jamie), but his MO is internal. He weaponizes people’s trauma, breaking them down until there’s nothing left.

Another great thing they did was make the characters fail. They were right in calling this the Empire Strikes Back season. Towards the end of that movie, Luke sees a vision of Han and Leia in danger, prompting him to abandon his training with Yoda on Dagobah, but he was not ready. El visits the void and learns of the Hawkins Crew’s imminent battle with Vecna, abandoning her training with Papa in Nevada, but she was not ready. Han gets encased in carbonite while Max ends up in a coma. Luke loses his hand, while El loses her hair. These characters may have survived their battle, but can they fix what has been broken and defeat evil once and for all?

Not to mention, the cinematography is positively stunning, and the score elevates everything to a whole new level. I love how they mix traditional orchestral instruments with their usual synth-based sound. The scene between El and Papa in Chapter Eight and the last shot of the show are my favorite moments by far. Everything comes together so majestically.

(On a more selfish note: this season had a shoutout to WarGames, which is my favorite 80s movie, and they drew a lot of inspiration from it. Hearing the original score from the movie made me so happy!)

There’s a lot more I love about this season, and I know I didn’t talk about every character, but this is already getting a little long, so I’ll stop here. If people want to know my feelings about a particular part of the season, my ask box is open! Thanks for the question!

#my post #stranger things #stranger things 4 #asks #thatgirlwithasquid #mike wheeler #netflix #eleven #jim hopper #max mayfield #will byers #lucas sinclair #el hopper

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arale2126 · 1 year

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[Analysis] Elle (2016)

WARNING: This analysis contains spoilers.

Elle is directed by Paul Verhoeven, based on the French novel Oh by Philippe Dijan, starring Isabelle Huppert. Watching the film gives the feeling of listening to an atonal piece of music. You may think you can predict where the piece would go but then it does not. The same can be said about Elle. It bamboozles the audience with swerve after swerve of genre: it starts as a thriller, which then gives space for a familial comedy; at a later point, more elements of a detective mystery are written in; sandwiched in between are a psycho-sexual drama and a melodramatic slice-of-life. This film could easily become a convoluted mess but it does not since at the center holding everything together is Michèle, the film's charismatic main character.

Even though the film incorporates plenty of genres, the film still has a central theme: without the masks they put on to seem well-adjusted in front of others, humans are all monsters - a gorgeously misanthropic outlook on human nature. Indeed, the film spends most of its runtime exploring the monstrous, shameful things every character does underneath the facade they put on. A snippet of a conversation between Michèle and her mother, Irène, sums up the movie’s theme really well:

Irène: He’s just a man. (about Michèle’s father, who is a mass murderer)

Michèle: Who happens to be a monster.

As the film's main character, Michèle is the one who helps the theme transpire. Michèle is a fascinating multi-dimensional character and Huppert embodies her effortlessly. She manages to bring out the contradictory aspects of the character with a breeze. Huppert’s Michèle is full of flaws and shameless but at the same time, charismatic and fascinating. Although she first appears powerless, throughout the film, she exudes nothing but control and power. Her actions make the audience gasp due to its controversial nature but they cannot help being captivated by her, admiring her and as the result, rooting for her. You can love her or hate her but one thing for sure, she will keep you interested from beginning to end.

It can be said that Elle is a character-driven film. It keeps the audience hooked not by the story, but rather, the larger-than-life personality of its main character. They have to keep asking: What will this woman do next? How will she fascinate us next? Therefore, to understand the film, one must analyze its main character, Michèle. Her personality is shown through her interactions with other characters. Towards men and her mother, she showcases her dominance over them and distrust in them. She treats them with quiet exasperated toleration. With the men around her, she has the extra task of handling their emotional needs and fragility. In return to being the shepherd for others, Michèle treats them as objects, to be manipulated and exploited for her own good.

Irène: What would you say if I remarried?

Michèle: It’s simple, I’d kill you. No need to think.

In Michèle’s eyes, Irène - her mother, is a burden. Her mother uses Michèle’s money to give them to her lovers and plastic surgery. She also sees Irène as an emotionally manipulative person, and distrusts her as Irène used to dramatize things for attention. When Irène actually has a stroke, only until Michèle hears the confirmation from the doctor does she believe her mother is not faking it and actually faces death. In addition, Irène disregards Michèle’s thoughts and feelings. Michèle only tolerates Irène because it is her mother. Overall, the relationship between the two women is tense.

Georges Le Blanc is Michèle’s father. He is a mass murder who went on a killing spree in the neighborhood, murdering 27 people. Afterwards, he returned home and burnt everything with Michèle, who was 10 years old at the time. In the aftermath, reporters snapped a photo of Michèle with empty eyes and ever since, she was considered a psychopath, just like her father. Michèle considers her father “a monster” and herself as a victim of Georges. She has spent her entire life fearing him and getting away from his haunting shadow. One of her fears is becoming like her father so she puts great efforts in distancing herself from him, both physically and mentally. She is not much of a Catholic. She cares for her son and does not treat him like how her father treated her. She does not resort to killing people uncontrollably even though she can injure them gravely.

However, as the curse of blood goes, she still takes after her father’s lurking violence and immorality. She would do whatever to please herself, even if it was at the expense of others. She seduces her married neighbor and sleeps with her best friend’s husband. She is abrasive towards other people and has a tendency to treat them as disposable; however, at the same time, she is possessive of them, be it her ex-husband, her son or her best friend. This contrast creates a really toxic dynamic in which Michèle tosses and turns others as she pleases.

The relationship between Michèle and her parents provides an explanation and insights into Michèle’s personality. It seems that her nonchalant facade and closed-off personality are her defense mechanisms for self-preservation due to the actions of her parents. The two figures who should be the ones to protect betrays her, only bringing her trauma and problems. Because of her father’s murders and its aftermath, Michèle grows to distrust authority, police, reporters in particular and people in general. She builds a wall around herself to hide everything about her, her light-hearted side, her dark impulses, and especially her vulnerability. She is obsessed with being in control because she needs to build herself up after the tragedies brought upon her.

There is a discrepancy of empathy for Georges between Irène and Michèle. Irène still regards him as a human while Michèle sees him as a monster. Her mother continuously pressures Michèle to go visit Georges as he grows old and ill, completely refusing to see things from Michèle’s point of view. Eventually, Michèle decides to go visit her father in prison. However, against her mother’s wishes, it is not to forgive and reconcile with him but to “spit him in the face”. She also prepares nine bullet points to talk to him and given their relationship, those words cannot be nice. At the prison, the warden tells her that her father had committed suicide and Michèle asks him when he was told about her visit. The answer reveals that he killed himself because he knew his daughter would come. The last thing Michèle says to her father’s body is: “I killed you by coming here.” She delivers the line with her usual nonchalance yet it is filled with quiet triumph. At the end of the film, Michèle does not erase the profanity on her father’s plaque and only puts flowers on her mother’s. This shows that she does not forgive and forget.

To other men in Michèle’s life, she is the one who takes care of their emotional needs and fragility, as well as material needs. However, given that the one who takes care of you is who has power over you, she still asserts domination over them. It can be said that through caring for others, Michèle dictates their lives. This dominion gives Michèle free range to treat people as disposable and toys to play with, knowing no matter how badly she treats them, they still need her. At the same time, Michèle is also really possessive to those same people. It is like how a tyrant needs subjects to rule over.

The first example is Richard, Michèle’s ex-husband. He is a writer with a lack of self-esteem and in need of validation. The film hints that Michèle has a background in publishing, which means that she must have helped Richard with his career. Later in the film, Michèle also appoints an employee to hear Richard’s pitch of a new game. Although they are divorced due to Richard hitting her, Michèle is still jealous of his new relationship and seeks revenge by putting a toothpick inside his new girlfriend’s food.

The second example is Michèle’s male staff. Michèle is the head of a game company with a majority of male staff. They are intimidated by her and prone to be defiant to her criticism due to her being a woman in a male-dominated field. One of them, Kurt, hates Michèle because she constantly and mercilessly criticizes him, even if she was right. He casts doubt upon Michèle’s professionalism in game design even though her company has released successful games before. Kevin, another employee, insults Michèle in front of the entire company even though he shows his likeness to her. The male staff, whether they love her or hate her, still harms Michèle in one way or another. However, with a simple compliment, she keeps Kurt under her thumb. It is only that vindictive after being berated so often. Kevin is allowed to stay but only when he agrees to submit to Michèle’s authority. As mentioned, no matter how badly she treats them, they still need her.

Nowhere does this duality of carer - controller more clearly shown than the relationship between Michèle and her son, Vincent. She is the one who pays for his expenses such as rent, car, and so on, as well as giving him jobs. She still has to placate Vincent’s irresponsibility and childishness. However, she is obviously not happy doing so. She tolerates her son like she tolerates her mother - he is a nuisance that she cannot shrug off.

Michèle: You realize having a child is all about suffering. Vincent’s birth was sheer hell. Torture. Three hours of agony.

Michèle is not maternal towards Vincent. She views motherhood as neither joyful nor meaningful. She does not pretend that it brings her happiness or fulfillment. Michèle openly despises Vincent, criticizing him to his face, sometimes in front of others. He is the summation of everything she dislikes. Vincent is a retail worker who has dubious work ethics while Michèle is the head of a successful game company. He is rather dumb and an airhead while Michèle is cunning and calculating. He is a carpet for people to trample on while Michèle dictates and makes people submit, him included.

Though Michèle berates Vincent often, she is still possessive of him. When Vincent was born, Anna - Michèle’s best friend, also gave birth to her own child. However, Anna’s child died at birth. Anna then asked to breastfeed Vincent and Michèle agreed. As he grows up, Vincent has a better relationship with Anna, which makes Michèle jealous. She harbors that jealousy then as she does now.

It seems that Michèle savors how Vincent always runs back to her, no matter how harsh she is towards him. A lot of reviewers only focus on how incompetent Vincent is but in the end, he is actually the one who saves Michèle. The relationship between Michèle and Vincent mirrors that of Michèle and Irène; though Michèle is harsh to her mother, she does not abandon Irène when the latter is ill. It is true, as Irène says, “Some bonds never break.”

Michèle’s duality of carer - controller is taken to a satirical extreme in her relationship with her and Patrick - at first, the married neighbor whom Michèle wants to seduce and later revealed, the masked rapist at the beginning of the film. The depiction of this relationship is the most controversial aspect about Elle. Taking it as literal, it is easy to label the film misogynistic. However, that claim stands up to a lot of challenges.

The first counterpoint is that men are not depicted favorably in Elle. The film shows that, “See, all men are rapists.” All the male characters in the film are under suspicion for the crime shown at the beginning of the film. All of them are shown as the potential perpetrator because they have motive to do so to Michèle. The men around Michèle are either pathetic, fragile and childish like Kurt, Kevin, Richard, Vincent or downright monsters, like Patrick and Georges. They are all just disappointment and Michèle treats them all like disposable trash. They are only allowed to benefit from her so long as they submit to and serve Michèle.

The second counterpoint is that the dynamic scale of the relationship between Michèle and Patrick tips to the former flavor. After Michèle is raped, she remains composed and resumes with her everyday life as if that incident did not matter, was a mere trivial inconvenience. She does not let it define her or dictate how she would live her life. Michèle is completely nonchalant.

Later, Michèle buys a bottle of pepper spray, an axe and later a gun to protect herself. She is also determined to find who the rapist is, even using illegal means. She is out to seek vengeance and this is the closest to anger she shows.

Michèle then enters a cat-and-mouse game of seduction with Patrick. It is critical to remember that Michèle already has eyes on Patrick before discovering that he is the rapist she is looking for. Her continuing with the game despite the revelation of Patrick’s true identity shows that she may be surprised and accept that she is rather fascinated by someone who can usurp her sexually, something which many of her lovers fail to do. Even so, in this game, Michèle still holds the knife.

Michèle manipulates Patrick into recreating the rape. When she successfully baits him and shows her willingness, Patrick instantly wilts. He does not know what to do with a woman who owns her sexuality.

Later, when Michèle gets into an accident, she calls Patrick for help. This shows that he has no power over her whatsoever, despite what he has done.

Near the end, Michèle has an epiphany: there may be other victims of Patrick. She considers going to the police and puts an end to their relationship.

When Vincent kills Patrick, Michèle covers her son with the police, not disclosing the cat-and-mouse game they played. In her eyes, a piece of trash is swept out.

The third counterpoint against the misogynistic claim is that Michèle preserves her bright side for another female character - Anna, her best friend. Anna is the only one who can tease a smile out of her. When Anna finds out that Michèle slept with her husband, she dumps him and remains best friends with Michèle. Their relationship is intact and the ending implies that it may turn romantic.

Overall, Elle is an intricate film. The more you think about it, the more fascinating it becomes. Tinged with cynical satire and worldview, it is brilliantly acted and compelling. Different genres are seamlessly sewn together and do not clash or become convoluted, an impressive feat.

#review #movie #elle 2016 #isabelle huppert #Paul Verhoeven #my post

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miistical · 1 year

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week twelve - england and the us

Here's the last week! I really did have a lot of fun with all of these stories, no matter if I personally enjoyed them or not. I have a lot more authors to look into (as if my tbr wasn't long enough) and it was just nice to read some short stories instead of longer pieces for these last few months.

For week twelve I read: Russell Banks' "The Child Screams and Looks Back at You" John Cheever's "The Country Husband" William Gass' "Order of Insects" Ian McEwan's "First Love, Last Rights"

To be completely honest, I still have a very thin understanding of the theme for this week. However, after writing everything down, I think we're ending this last week with one of the most potent human emotions: shame. Whether this shame is in yourself, your relationships, or the life you've decided to live, shame is a powerful motivator to lie, hide, and deceive. It can easily break a person down into the smallest parts of themselves to which there is no putting them back together.

Known for his themes on personal relationships, Russell Banks' "The Child Screams and Looks Back at You" makes use of a jumping nature in the narration to bring a creeping sense of dread to the reader. Once you learn of the illness that had befell one of the narrator's children, you already know that it's far too late to save him. The mother is ashamed of her behavior, the sons ashamed of their father, the doctor ashamed that he put making the family feel better over the actual health and well-being of the child he was called to help. No, instead the doctor hits on the mother and when her son gets worse in the night, she is too ashamed of accepting the doctor's advances that she doesn't call him to come back. Her shame follows her in her dreams, in her waking moments: she had taught her sons how to forgive and while the rest of her children had forgiven her, she'll never get that from the her now dead son. How do you cope with that shame? For the mother, it appears that there is no miracle waiting to absolve her, just the cold silence of a child who she can never apologize to.

John Cheever's "The Country Husband" takes this idea of shame a step further. Considered a master at uncovering the duality of the human experience, the narrator of "The Country Husband" weaves through both the love and shame of his uninteresting, suburban life. He has a near-death experience, almost begins an affair with his babysitter, and ruins a young man's reputation just because Francis didn't like him - and yet what sets off his wife is that he was rude to one of their neighbors and almost damaged their social standing in the neighborhood. All of this is enough to drive him crazy and it does, too, just enough that he goes to a psychiatrist in tears. Conforming to this life, and then straying away from it, is killing him with shame. He can't be honest with anyone; not with something as big as his time in WWII or as small as telling a neighbor that he doesn't care about her curtains. He's in love with more exciting things, but can't go after them without shaming himself or his family. He's stuck and that, too, is shameful.

Out of all the stories this week, "Order of Insects" by William Gass confused me the most. Gass is the author of many a depressing story, which at first made his penmanship of "Order of Insects" confusing until you look into the obsession the narrator has developed over the course of the story. She's deeply ashamed of herself for finding common ground in the dead insects she finds around the house. She keeps saying over and over again that she is a woman, and a housewife at that. She is suppose to be afraid of these bugs, to sweep them up in horror of them, but she's not. Eventually, she finds them even beautiful, and keeps some like how some people pin butterflies. It's almost existential to read as she almost seems to be losing her mind over this connection she has made with the beetles she finds. She cannot have any duality, she can only ever be one thing and that thing is a housewife, a mother, a woman. She's not suppose to be anything else, to want anything else. She keeps looking at the insects just a bit too long before vacuuming them away.

The last story is "First Love, Last Rites" by Ian McEwan - yes, that Ian McEwan, though I must say I was sorely unimpressed. Was there merit to this story? Of course! It's a good story. It's also terribly boring; things can contain multitudes. At first glance, this is just the story of young lovers together over the summer, both trying to make money before they have to become anything important. What makes this story interesting in the small scratches behind the walls of the building they're staying in. At first the noise is easy to write off, especially when they're usually busy having sex to notice the sound. The scratching gets louder and louder, mimicking the rising heat of the summer and the lovers' slow descent into lethargy, until out bursts a rat to everyone's horror. While the rat is quickly killed, it is an obvious mirror to the two of them; they quickly find out that the rat was pregnant and that the unborn pups will soon die with their mother. The circle of life stopped in its tracks. There's a give and take here, though, as the ending might imply that the young girl is pregnant herself (though they had been careful, well, as careful as two teenagers can be, previously to make sure such a thing wouldn't happen). Humanity is full of these gives-and-takes, the shame of being too young and too old, the beauty of both as well. This was their last summer before they must go off into the world, becoming rats scratching at the wall to let them in.

I have to say, not exactly what I was expecting to be the last stories we'd be reading! I don't know why I was prepared for something happier when most of these short stories weren't, ya know, exactly made of fluff. This week was especially weird, though, just because of how vague some of the writing was this week. Though shame is, as I said, a potent emotion, I've never really had to feel much shame in my life, so perhaps I can not as well equipped to connect with the theme of this week. Whatever it is, it sure was an interesting time!

#russell banks #john cheever #william gass #ian mcewan #english literature #short stories #ENGL 4430 #miistical murmurs

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cosmoss-express · 3 years

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Astro observations (part 3)

!DO NOT COPY, CHANGE, REPOST without permission, otherwise I'll show up as your sleep paralysis demon!

🔮 Juno conjunct/trine/sextile Adonis (2101) or Aphrodite (1388) increases the probability of you either marrying your ideal type or you putting your spouse/life partner on a pedestal

🔮 Saturn in the 5th could indicate a father figure who was extremely critical of the child's passions and self expression. The native could repress their talents until they learn that life is worth living however they want, and stop fearing the spotlight. Could actually make an impact with their talents. It could also indicate a parental figure with a gambling addiction

🔮 Saturn in the 10th could be very cold towards their s/o in public, often avoiding pda, even if they're the mushiest person in the world.

These natives are quite reserved about their private lives, most often they don't want people in there business, not even their friends lmao

🔮 Saturn in Capricorn/Taurus is a Sugar daddy placement once they've achieved their goals and financial stability

🔮 Taurus placements/Taurus in the 2nd folks have the most melodious and contagious laughs. It's like their laugh has a beat to it lmao

🔮 Pisces in the 7th people need to be protected at all costs

🔮 Lilith/Saturn aspects gives me daddy issues energy, while Lilith in the 7th gives me outlaw/Bonnie and Clyde energy

🔮 From what I've noticed Lilith square Mars women have a visceral hate towards bossy masculine figures. These natives HATE being ordered around. This could manifest as the native taking revenge on the person, manipulating and pushing their buttons, doing things out of spite to piss them off.

Its manifestation depends on the house Lilith is in: Lilith in 5th - first educators, Lilith in 4th - men in the family, Lilith in 9th - male teachers (I use men here but it applies to any figure that , regardless of gender, presents a more masculine energy)

🔮 Virgo placements like to help the people they love. The thing is they are also painfully selective about who they love. To them time is energy. If you prove to these natives that you're wasting their time, Virgos will ghost you in milliseconds

🔮 When the Moon is transiting in your native moon sign you tend to feel more comfortable in your own skin

🔮 Scorpio Mercury/Mercury in the 8th people are so observant, it's actually scary. They notice little details in their environment and about the people around them. They're very connected to their intuition/gut feeling (whether they consider themselves to be spiritual or not) which helps them get out of dangerous situations.

Side note: at this point I think Sherlock has a Scorpio Mercury , you can't convince me otherwise

🔮 Aquarius people have instant crushes that fade just as quickly, while Leos take longer to get over someone and can go back and forth about their crush

🔮 I've noticed that Cancer Suns with Leo placements are weak for Sagittarius Suns?

🔮 Neptune in the 7th people are very patient and sensitive with others. People could find it easy to vent to them because they listen without judgement. The downside is that people tend to step over the native's boundaries.

The native's friends and partners won't know them completely while the enemies will spread rumors based on assumptions with 0 proof

🔮 Pluto in the 7th folks have a hard time getting over their exes/might have experienced trauma in their relationships

🔮 People with harsh aspects to the Moon in the 1st could've been bullied/shamed for being too sensitive as a child

🔮 People with prominent Venusian (Libra/Taurus) placements look huggable 🥺🥺

🔮 Sagittarius and Aquarius, when being asked to stick to one thing/stick to the crowd: No, I don't think I will

🔮 I'm just starting to dip my toe into vedic astrology (very slowly but yes) and I've noticed that: If you're an artistic person the themes of your art pieces/art that you admire from other people, correspond directly to the themes of the nakshatras your personal planets are in

I have a Magha Sun (symbol : the throne, royalty), house lord Ketu (the occult, mystery) and as a teenager I used to draw a lot of chairs, thrones, royal gold patterns and I was also interested in witchcraft (still am)

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bunnisenpaii · 2 years

Text

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 — (part 1)

Characters: Albedo, Kazuha, Diluc, Zhongli

Theme: Trigger warning!; mention of body shaming, death, blood, suicide thoughts, and fluff!

A/n: felt like writing this bc me need some comfort from these boys. Tried my best! i hope you enjoy<33

— 𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨

Seeing you hugging your knees to your chest, sobbing, he didn't know why but his heart broke into pieces seeing you like this. Dropping his things he went towards you, bringing your body close to his.

Rubbing his thumb on your wet cheeks he brought your face close to his, "why are you crying my darling?" Seeing your lover with a worried look you explain what happened. Your so called friend ignored you, said harsh things to you, just because you were dating albedo. She was jealous of you.

Bringing your face to his chest, he had a piss off look. Like what the fuck, she was your best friend and she broke things off just because you were dating him. Wanting to go out and find this so called friend, he push those thoughts behind, you come first. Planting light kisses on your forehead he comforted you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

— 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚

You open the door, tears streaming down your eyes as you closed the door behind you. Walking towards your share bedroom you broke down, digging your face into your knees. Crying louder and louder about the events that just happened not so long ago.

Crying you didn't hear the door open, hurrying footsteps towards your curl up body. Kazuha who looked worried about you brought your body between his legs, rubbing circles on your back.

Kissing your forehead he let you take your time before telling him what happened. Your family yelling harsh words towards you, shaming you and your body, how you are unwelcome to your own family and everything about you. Kazuha looked shocked.

He thought you had a wonderful family, a caring one who loves, worries and support you. But it didn't look like it. Kazuha looked calm, too calm. Inside his blood was boiling. But he snap out of his thoughts, you are important right now. "My angel, you are beautiful. Your a wonderful caring person, and your home will always be here." he planted a sweet kiss on your lips, wiping your tears away.

— 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜

When he was about to open the door, he could hear it. Your sobs. Dropping the flowers he planned to give to you he ran to the garden he gifted you a few months ago. There he could see, your shaky body, tears rolling down your eyes and cheeks.

His heart shatters. In seconds he had his arms warped around your small figure. His thumb wiping your tears away, kissing your wet cheeks. He didn't speak, letting you take your time. An hour past with you digged into his chest, not sobbing as much anymore. Rubbing your back softly he heard you speak in a broken tone.

Explaining that your friend/sibling was killed by monsters made his heart drop. Kissing your forehead, nose, cheek, then your soft lips. Cupping your cheeks, he knows his words wont heal your wounds, but wishes he can be by your side, "my love, i'm here for you, always"

— 𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢

He just went out to buy some of your favorite snacks and cuddle with you. After all he enjoys those moments with you. But he didnt expect to come back to see the bathtub filled with blood. Your blood.

Seeing your body he dropped everything bringing your body out of the cold red water. Warping your body with a warm towel he took you to your shared room. Your eyes were barely open but you can see his shaky form. He was hugging you tightly, shaking and almost at the brank of tears.

He lets you go seeing as he needed to tend to your wounded arms. kissing your temple, he whispered a quick "ill be back" quickly bring the med it kit. Softly he started tending to your injures. You just sat there quietly, a million of thoughts rushing in your head. You didn't feel any pain nor did you notice the tears which were falling from your cheeks.

But you did feel the big arms that were wrapped around your small body. You felt your tears, felt your wounds that were still bleeding. You finally broke into more tears. Hugging your lover tightly confessing everything. About your stress, your suicidal thoughts, everything. Not saying a word he cupped your wet cheeks, feeling the tears on his fingers. He kissed your lips, and whispered to your ear.

"I'm here. ill stay here with you, (y/n). So please..don't leave me"

#genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #albedo #albedo x reader #kazuha #kazuha x reader #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli

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junova · 2 years

Text

after midnight — steve rogers

pairing: college!steve rogers x reader, college!peter parker x reader

forewarning: 18+ only, friends to lovers, cheating, smut (if you squint), asshole!peter (ooc peter), sexual themes throughout, spiderman exists and cap doesn't bc i wanna

wc: 1.8k+

summary: you're left scorned by your lovers betrayal, but maybe there's always been someone right under your nose who can pick up the pieces.

“He won’t like it.” You were sitting on his lap, trying to stay engaged even if his arm was wrapped around your body keeping you in place. The group of people at the party were increasing and the odds of your ex showing up was causing your nerves to skyrocket through the roof.

“If you’re involved, I’ll be more than happy to comply kitten.” His breath causing a tingle to draw up your spine, his body pressed more than tightly against yours. “Who gives a fuck what the asshole likes? It’s not my problem he was dumb enough to get his dick wet by someone who wasn’t you.”

It was true, you had caught him spearing into his best friend who he told you to never worry about. Until you found them fucking in his bed. It was comical really. You arrived early from visiting your family over the holidays, anxiously excited to see your boyfriend of two years.

Until you walked into his apartment, the scene setting the tone for what you’d find. His clothes and hers’ lead a path into the bedroom to find them tangled, sweat and regret were written all over their guilty faces when they finally acknowledged you. It took them a minute or two as you watched as he fucked her. You wished it would have been hard and fast — a means to a horny end. But it wasn’t like that at all.

It was slow and passionate as you saw him whisper in her ear like he meant to be there and not anywhere else. You listened to her whines, chanting his name over and over again — her pants and his moans burying you in the grave.

Then, he saw you.

Tears were the first thing he noticed, the stained ones on your cheeks and new ones that you couldn’t stop from coming out. Not a word came from you as he slid out of her and rushed to find some clothes. She grabbed the sheet from the bed and walked straight past you, too shameful and embarrassed to meet your eyes.

“I think I should go.” You whispered, too shocked and betrayed to fully process what he’d done to the both of you. “Please don’t. We should talk about this.”

“Talk about what, Peter? How we’re having issues of you not trusting me with Steve, who is the only family I’ve ever had, and then you decide this would be a great time to fuck your best friend?”

He was speechless, no words were able to fall from his lips. There was no apology or redeemable line he could spit because he knew you hated him. He hated himself and now you did too. It wasn’t like he meant for you to find out this way, but Gwen knew he was spider-man. He could confide to her in ways he couldn’t with you. Paired with his trust issues with you, Gwen was there to wipe away every stressed tear.

Then, there was Steve Rogers — stupidly muscular, star wide receiver standing at 6’4”, and a smile that everyone fell for. He’d known you since you were fourteen and would always know you in ways Peter could never measure up to and it infuriated him.

It didn’t help that women threw themself at Steve, yet he always ended up rejecting them all. Peter had an inkling on why and it was the reason for why the two of you had been fighting for weeks.

You love Peter more than anything and you just wanted him to see that, so you got an early flight out wanting to surprise him. Mentally agreeing to take a step back on your friendship with Steve if it's took to make your relationship work in the long run, it’s what had to be done. In time, you tried to convince yourself it was the for the best.

Now, you realized Peter had just been projecting his own guilt.

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for making you feel like Steve was more important, but I guess you’re the one who should be.” You allowed yourself to meet his doe brown eyes like he was caught in the headlight. He was crying too and it made you feel better it some sick, narcissistic way.

“I never meant for any of this to happen. I love you. She means nothing to me, I promise.” He tried to plead, but he could tell you were more than fed up with him.

“Peter, you realize how incredibly absurd you sound? You love me? You don’t do this to someone you love. Gwen is your best friend and clearly she means more to you than I do. If you even respected me at all, the least you could have done was break up with me first.” The calm tone you spoke in was sending chills down his spine.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say to fix this.” He tried to step forward but you just took two steps back.

“I just hope she was worth it.” You left and he didn’t follow you — didn’t call and didn’t text you. You spent the next three weeks crying your eyes out, mourning what you thought might have been your forever.

Steve was there for you, wouldn’t leave actually. He’d been bringing a bag every time he came over, filled with goodies for you, and an extra change of clothes for him to change into in the morning. He held you as your cries vibrated his chest, doing his absolute best to calm you down. It was really taking everything in him not to pummel Peter but you had wished him not to so he didn’t.

The days were starting to get better, you had stopped crying and calling out Peter’s name in your sleep.

Your roommate, Nat, had been making herself scarce ever since her and Bucky started dating a few months ago. Leaving Steve and you to be alone. You were thankful for it, you didn't need anyone else to see the heartbreak you were constantly wearing on your sleeve.

“Come with me tonight. It’ll be fun.” Steve’s attempt to coax out of the four walls of your home. Besides class, you hadn’t really gone anywhere no matter how much he begged you and he was doing quite a lot of it lately.

Part of him only having his selfish agenda in mind, but the softer, kinder bits of his soul just wanted to see you happy again. You’d been tense, a bit bitter even. Anyone who knew you in the slightest could tell, and Steve was fortunate enough to be one of those few you happened to let in.

Maybe he just wants to see the light in her eyes shine again and hear your big, bright filled laugh dance on his senses again. You were pulling from within yourself, practically drowning and he was holding onto you dear life but you can only save someone from themselves if they’re willing to accept it.

“I don’t know, Steve. What if he’s there?” You asked him, trying to summon up the best excuses you could come up with. “Then we’ll make him regret cheating on the most beautiful woman alive.” The cheekiest of smiles etched on his face as he flashed you his dazzling blues. So full of hope almost like he knew what was coming.

Truth is, you could never say no to him — never have. It’s how you ended up here perched on his lap surrounded by his friends and yours. With liquor in your system and the devil’s lettuce coursing through you, making you feel lighter than the heartache Peter had served you.

You knew Steve was a flirt by nature, it was practically in his blood, but he was laying it on thick tonight. He wouldn’t let you leave his side, not that you were against it. His touch was intoxicating, even more so knowing how many women came up to him tonight wanting a piece of him. He didn’t even entertain it though. Not tonight, not when you were single and for the first time since ever timing was aligning just right for him.

It was like he wanted for you to know he was the one touching you, the one making you feel better. It was all him and no one else.

Three in the morning is when everyone seemed to funnel out, the people who were sticking around were the frat boys who lived here and their girlfriends. The two of you had barely moved all night, your ass practically glued to his lap.

You were playing with his hair, raking it through your fingers as he hummed out in acceptance of your touch. Just like he’d been doing all night and you weren’t sober enough to dismiss his low moans making every part of you want every part of him.

“Stay the night, kitten.” His thick fingers finding home on your hips, delicately rubbing his thumb against the thin fabric of your pretty, lilac dress.

“The both of us know that’s probably not the best idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea. I think you do, too.” Fuck.

“Stevie, I just broke up with him and it’s not even about Peter. You are everything to me — one night of drunken, hot sex isn’t going to take my pain away. I need you in my life, always.”

“I really want to hear more about this hot sex we’d be having, just a tad bit intrigued, but who said anything about one night?” He had you cornered, his words making stubbles incoherent words fall from your lips. Of course, causing him to laugh like a fucking angel.

“Steve, I will literally kill you and everyone in this house if you ever tell anyone what I just said. Let’s just forget this conversation, okay?”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t want more than one night?” He questioned you, but you looked away from him. Trying to pull away but he wouldn’t let you.

“I-I’m not sure. You’re just…you’re you and I’m me.” You moved your hands to your sides wanting nothing more than to vanish into thin air. He smelled so good and his touch felt like a scolding hot fire, burning you up from the inside out.

“Plus, you don’t exactly seem like you’d want more than that. Not like I’m looking right now, I’m the last person that needs to be diving into a relationship.”

“Who’s to say I’m not?” His voice reaches an octave lower than it should, sending wanted waves down to your core.

“Come on, be honest. It’s just me.” You felt anxious now, the moment turning into something you never expected — a side you’d never thought could be viewed from your eyes.

Carefully and calculated, he brought his thumb before tugging at your bottom, plump lip. Fighting his own urge to choke you with it.

“I would want more than one night with you.” His free hand moved so it rested on your ass, his touch so soft you weren’t even sure if it was there. “But I’ll take it if that’s all you want to give.”

He was waiting for you to make a move, to do something, anything.

“Let’s see what that mouth can do first, Stevie.”

#me? posting? who would've thought #an offering before i post my 8k+ part two to my boxer au ;)#happy reading!#maudi writes #steve rogers x fem reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers series #steve rogers x y/n #friends to lovers #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x you #andrew garfield smut #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #chris evans x reader

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Dancing With Danger

Batboys x Meta!Reader HC/Imagines

Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes

Author's Note: Edited another story for y'all! Enjoy! -Thorne

Dick:

His feet hit the fire escape, and he cursed himself at his carelessness. He shifted, trying to pick his feet up before it happened, but he was too late; he thrashed, pulling away from the metal railing that was curling around his ankles, but the second they wrapped around his thighs, he knew he was done. Still, he struggled, fighting even as the railing wrapped around his wrists and waist, effectively pinning him to the wall. He grunted, heaving with all his might, hoping that he could find some slack within the metal, but he couldn’t, then he heard an amused chuckle from above.

“You sure fell for that one, didn’t you, Nightwig?”

He craned his neck up to see her on the ledge he’d just jumped from. His eyes narrowed into a glare and she lowered down; her feet hit the metal platform and she sashayed over to him.

He rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “Nightwing.”

She put a hand to her ear, a smartass smirk playing her lips. “Sorry, Nightwig? What was that?”

He growled at her. “Wing. Night. Wing.”

She put her hand to her chest in mock apology, nodding. “Right, right. Nightwing.” She grinned and stepped up to him, reaching out a hand and tracing at the raised symbol on his chest. “But back to my original question…you really did fall for that one.” She cocked her head to the side as she leaned against the railing. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one out of the family?”

“I am.”

“Really? From the way you leaped without looking first, you could’ve fooled me.”

He tugged at the metal around his wrists. “It was an accident, it won’t happen again—” He stopped, glowering at her. “When I get out of here, I’m going to—” His words stuttered as she pressed herself up against him, draping her arms around his neck, slipping one of her legs between his hips until her thigh was nestled against his front.

One of her hands fell away and twirled the hair that brushed his cheekbones as she repeated, “When you get out of this?” She waved the hand, and he felt the metal tighten, then a piece came up and circled his neck; it wasn’t tight enough to cut off the air, but just enough to feel the pressure and he gasped despite himself.

Her eyes narrowed in amusement and she whispered, “I’m afraid you’re not going to get out of this one, Nightwing.”

She hummed and leaned close, lips brushing against his cheek as she said, “You’re stuck.” He raised his head a little, swallowing thickly, as he tried to get comfortable with the metal around his neck. “Man, you look like a lost puppy.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you don’t know what to do.” He opened his mouth to retort but shut it when he realized that she was right—he didn’t have anything, his mind was blank, and it must’ve shown on his face because she grinned and murmured, “And there we go…you know I’m right.”

He inhaled deeply before clearing his throat. “So, what are you gonna do to me?”

She reached up and traced his jaw. “Hot man in a skintight black and blue suit, helplessly pinned to a wall? I could think of a few things.” The finger she was using to trace his jaw shifted slightly and traced his bottom lip. “You and I could break a sweat for a few hours.” Her head dipped towards his ear and she smirked as he shivered. “Ravish each other’s bodies until we’re slick with sweat and collapsed chest to chest.”

When he gave her no response she pulled back and peered at him a moment before huffing and bopping his nose. “But you really don’t look all that into what we’ve got going on.”

She pulled away, leaving him missing her warmth, and she waved a hand, the metal around him uncurled, freeing him. “So, I’m just gonna go on my merry way.” She slipped over the railing and climbed up to the ledge.

Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, a hand reaching out as he called, “Wait!”

She stopped, turning around, a smirk on her face. “Yes, Nightwing?”

“What if I was?” he asked.

“Was what?”

He swallowed thickly, suit suddenly feeling skintight. “Into it. You know…you and me…breaking a sweat…ravishing each other?”

She hummed and winked at him. “I guess we’ll just have to wait for the next time you get careless.” She pulled something from her pocket and waved it around. “Thanks for the souvenir, cutie. It’ll go great on my wall.”

His eyes widened at the sight of the Batarang in her hand and he patted his pockets. “How did you—”

She winked again. “If you can catch me…I’ll tell you.” She mock saluted him as she took off. “See you later, pretty boy!” He huffed a laugh, feeling the grin work onto his lips as he jumped the railing, climbing the ledge, and taking off after her.

Jason:

His feet sunk as he sprinted in the gravel of the electric station. His hood had been lost a few moments before, cast off somewhere in the forest he’d been chasing her through, but he didn’t care; he was too focused on catching her and bringing her to GCPD.

He saw her up ahead, simply standing still, face directed towards the sky, and he skidded to a stop, pulling out his guns. “Look doll, I don’t want to hurt you. But if you wanna dance? I can dance.”

She turned around, and the grin she wore made his stomach clench, and he wasn’t sure if it was from apprehension…or arousal. “Really? Because I don’t think it’ll be much of a dance between us, Red Hood.”

He narrowed his eyes as he thumbed the hammer back on his pistols. “Why’s that?”

She motioned around him. “Look around you, Casanova…you don’t realize where you’ve just run into, do you?”

He looked around for a second, then his eyes widened, and he muttered, “Oh shit.” His eyes darted back to her, and he raised the guns, but it was too late.

She waved her hand, and they went flying off somewhere he couldn’t get to. He stepped back, intent on fleeing when something hard hit his back. There wasn’t even time to glance behind him as hands moved involuntarily over his head.

She tutted as she walked towards him. “And that, Casanova, is why you don’t where gloves with metal plates in them.” She paused, tipping her head to the side. “Well, I could control you even if you didn’t have metal gloves.”

He paused, staring at her as she stood up in front of him. “…The iron in my blood.”

Her eyes widened in mild surprise and she smiled. “Not many people can get that one. Well done.” She reached into her pocket and pulled something out, raising it and shoving it into his mouth. “Have a cookie.” His eyes narrowed, and he tried to spit it out, but she placed a hand over his mouth and laughed at the glare. “Relax, Casanova, it’s a chocolate chip cookie…not poison.” His eyes were still narrowed, but he chewed slowly, and she snorted as she pulled her hand away. “You’re kinda stubborn.”

He swallowed and bit out, “It’s one of my charms.”

She smiled at him and lifted her hands, rifling through his pockets; he let out a grunt and tried to pull away, but a metal cord wrapped around his strong arms and broad chest, stopping him. “Good news for me then.” She stopped, pulling out whatever it was she was looking for. “I like stubbornness.” She winked. “Makes sex fun.”

His eyes widened and he stopped struggling in favor of gaping like a fish. “I…What?”

She snorted and looked down at the tracker, tapping a few buttons before crushing it in her hand. “I like stubborn men because it makes sex fun.” She looked at him and tapped his forehead. “Did I get through the central brain function this time?”

He blinked and leaned as far as he could. “You…want to have sex…with me?”

She nodded, eying his body with no shame whatsoever, and he felt his body flush with desire under her gaze. “With a body and thighs like yours? Who wouldn’t want to have sex with you?”

He smirked at her answer and cocked his head up. “You let me out of this, and we can take this to a hotel. I promise I won’t disappoint you, doll.”

She huffed a laugh and reached up, running her hands up his suited stomach as she quipped, “Is this before or after you hand me over to GCPD?”

His muscles flexed at the feel of the pressure and he murmured, “Before, of course. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I left a woman unsatisfied.”

Her eyes narrowed and she tipped her head up, resting her chin on his chest; he gazed down at her, their faces inches apart. “Sounds hot. But as much as I’d love to roll around with you all night…I have no plans of sitting in a jail cell.” She paused; her hands splayed along his chest as she asked, “You gotta S.O.S. button I can activate for you, Casanova? I’d hate to leave you defenseless.”

He scoffed at her ‘concern’ and nodded. “Device in my left thigh pocket.” Her eyes never left his as she reached down, unbuttoning the pocket before pulling it out and clicking the button. She dropped it on the ground and brought her hand up, ‘accidently’ brushing the inside of his thigh with her hand; he sucked in a breath that sounded distinctly like a groan and she let out an amused hum.

“Sorry Casanova, my hand slipped there.”

He chuckled and murmured, “Oh, I’m sure it did, doll.”

For a moment he was sure she was gonna hit him, then she gripped his chin in her hand and pulled him into a searing kiss. His eyes went wide then she shut, just as she grinned and stepped away from him.

She cast him a wink and turned, walking off, but stopped when he breathed heavily, “So, just out of curiosity…if we happen to do this tango again…can we do it in a bed next time?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Only if I get to top.”

He smirked at her. “I’d love to see you above me, doll.”

She winked at him before turning back around, swaying her hips as she walked off; she waved, calling out, “I’ll see you the next time we dance, Casanova.”

Tim:

He fumbled with the change the barista had given him before he finally grunted exasperatedly and shoved it into the tip jar; she blinked, stunned at the action. “Um, Red Robin? You just put all that change in the tip jar.”

He nodded, handing her the thermos. “I know.” He motioned to the can. “Put the java chip Frappuccino in the cup and we’re square.”

She nodded, taking it from him. “But are you sure you don’t want your change? You literally gave us like eighty dollars in tips.”

“I just want my coffee. I really don’t need the money.”

She shrugged, but made his drink, and a few moments later he was stepping out of the Starbucks and moving down the alley. He brought the cup to his lips when the sound of someone coughing behind him made him whirl around, his Bo staff already clicked and extended. He only had it in his hand for a split second when it whipped out of his grip, flying against the wall.

It dropped and he capped the thermos, setting it down before he raised his hands, ready to fight. “You.”

He barely had a second to react before his back hit the alley wall, his staff pinning shoved into his chest, holding his back against it. He struggled, trying to push it out of the way. When it didn’t budge, he tried to crawl out from underneath, but it curled, digging each end into the wall underneath his arms. He stopped struggling and sighed, realizing that he was caged and not able to slip out.

She stepped towards him and picked up the thermos, winking at him. “Me.”

He grunted, trying to reach for the cup. “That’s mine.”

She snorted at his vain attempt and uncapped it. “Mine now, Red.”

He groaned as he watched her take a sip. “Why would you hurt me like this? You know my weakness is my coffee.”

She nodded as she swallowed and brought the cup down. “And pretty girls who manipulate metal.” She winked. “Don’t forget that one too.”

He grumbled in annoyance but acquiesced. “Yes, yes. Coffee and pretty girls who manipulate metal make me weak in my knees.” He glared at her as she took another sip. “Happy now?”

She nodded. “I’m getting there.” She shook the cup. “When I finish this, I’ll be very happy.”

He whined at her. “C’mon…don’t do me like this.”

“You’re so cute when you whimper.”

“I’m not whimpering.”

“Alright puppy. You keep telling yourself that.”

He whined once more when she took another sip. “I’ll do anything if you stop drinking my coffee.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and capped the thermos before lowering it and walking up to him. “Anything?”

He nodded frantically his hand reached out to grab it. “Anything. Just let me have my coffee.” She kept it out of his grip, only letting his fingers brush it and he groaned, looking at her. “Please?”

She smirked and reached up, taking his chin in her hand; she leaned close and pressed her lips to his. She laughed internally as he groaned against her, his hands no longer reaching for the cup, this time trying to get a grip on her suit to yank her against him. She felt his tongue dart against her lips, and she opened her mouth for him, letting him slip his tongue inside. She let him have his way for a few seconds before she pulled back; he chased her lips until she rested her pointer finger against them, effectively stopping him.

His breath was hot against her finger and she tapped his mouth quipping, “For someone who wants coffee so badly, it seems to me like you want to make out a helluva lot more.”

He grinned, giving her full view of his pearly white teeth. “Would it help more if I told you I wanted to drink my coffee, then make out with you in the movie theater balconies?”

Her eyes narrowed in amusement and she twirled away, uncapping his thermos once more. “It probably would.” She gestured to him. “You get outta that and find me in the balconies and we can continue where we left off.” She waved as she stepped off, sipping his coffee. “Bye Red.”

After a few moments, the bent Bo staff dropped to the ground and he jerked forward, taking off in the direction of the movie theater, his heart hammering in his chest as a face-splitting grin crossed his lips.

Bruce:

She collapsed into the lawn chair on the roof, tugging off the pants and overshirt she wore until she was left in her underwear and bra. She groaned, feeling the heat crawl over her body, and she raised a hand, making a piece of metal spin like a ceiling fan until it blew a breeze.

The air it gave off barely staved the sweltering humidity and she groaned once more. “It’s. Too. Fucking. Hot.”

She heard an amused hum beside her, and she cracked an eye open, seeing him standing above her; she grunted and waved him away from her. “Oh, go shove it, Batman. You know I love playing two-person-push-ups, but it’s too hot to play right now.” Another amused hum followed and she rolled over onto her stomach.

She turned her face to the side and glared up at him. “How are you not dying of a goddamn heatstroke right now? I know you’ve gotta be sweating under all those titanium plates.”

He shrugged. “Suit has a built-in cool layer. I’m in the middle between starting to sweat and not.” He paused, looking around, then added, “It’s about a good seventy-five out here.”

She groaned, reaching down to grab her glass; sipping it, she motioned to the pitcher and empty glass. “I figured you’d show up sometime tonight…have a drink if you want.”

Surprisingly, he poured himself a glass and sat beside her. “Why are you out on the roof?”

“‘Cause my fucking AC broke.”

“You can’t fix it?”

She glared at him. “I manipulate metal, Batman. I don’t fix things.” The corners of his mouth turned up and she closed her eyes, whining, “It’s so hotttttt!”

A few seconds later, she felt a cool breeze run up her body and her she moaned, digging her face into the chair. “Whatever you’ve got going, Batman…it feels great.” She received a chuckle in return, and she mumbled, “If you even think about trying to arrest me, I’ll crush your head in that metal helmet you’ve got on. You hear me, Batman?”

He hummed at her. “Mhm. Don’t worry. I’ll take pity on you simply because you’re hot.”

She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “Well, thanks for saying.” She winked. “Is that the reason you like sleeping with me?”

He huffed a laugh and tipped his head. “I like sleeping with you because you like sleeping with me.” He peered at her. “And you’re a mystery I can’t figure out.”

She flipped over onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“You have the ability to manipulate metal and magnetic fields…I like to know what makes people the way they are, but I can’t figure out why you have the ability.”

She shrugged at his answer. “I can’t answer the question either…as far as I know, I’m the only one in my family who can do this.”

He was silent a moment, then inquired, “Why don’t you use your abilities for the good of society? Why do you do the things you do?” She met his eyes and stared at him.

“Why not?” He blinked, a little stunned at her answer as she continued, “Not everyone wants to be a hero, Batman.”

“You want to be an anti-hero then?”

“I kinda have the same mentality as Red Hood. Fucking with criminals is so much more fun than working with them. Except I’m not trying to save everyone.” She paused. “And I mean that in a pranking sense not a sexual one.” She huffed and dropped her head back. “I really don’t feel like discussing our moral ambiguities right now, Batman.”

“What do you want to discuss?”

“How you’re planning on fixing my AC for me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll stop sleeping with you.” She raised her head back up and grinned at him. “And I really don’t think you want to stop sleeping with me.” He stood up from his position and stared down at her, then held out a hand; she glanced at it before looking back at him. “What?”

“Want to get out of the heat?”

“And where is ‘out of the heat’?”

“My apartment in the city.” He flashed her a smile. “AC keeps the place a solid sixty-five.”

She arched an eyebrow at that. “We’ve never tangoed in anyone’s apartment other than mine.” She peered at him, suspiciously. “What’s your game, Batman? You gonna tell me who you are or something?”

He said nothing, just kept the hand out until she rolled her eyes and reached out, taking it. His hand curled around hers and he tugged her up; she hit his chest, her other palm going flat against it.

His arm wound around her waist holding her close and he murmured, “If I told you who I was right now, without taking off my cowl, would you believe me?”

She gaped at him before recovering and flirted, “Hold onto your secret for a little while longer, Batman…I like the game we have going.” He smirked and she wiggled in his grip. “Either get me somewhere cold or let go. I’m starting to sweat again.”

He released her, stepping away and motioning to the apartment complex off in the distance. “Blue building with the neon billboard on top.”

She nodded and leaned down, slipping on her clothes, then slipping on the metal cuffs around her wrists. She walked beside him, letting her hand come up the back of his thigh as she murmured, “I’ll see you there, Batman.”

He watched as she rose from the building, making her way across the city before he huffed and jumped down the alley, sliding into the Batmobile and starting his drive towards a pleasure filled night.

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wisehoagiekidwobbler · 3 years

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Forms of Witchcraft

•Dolls and Poppets

Poppets are the English terms for what movies call a ‘voodoo doll’. Voodoo doll is a misnomer, and does nothing for either poppets or Haitian magic.

Poppets can be used for a couple of things – mainly either cursing or healing. This doesn’t always have to be physical curses/cures – poppets can also be used to influence thought patterns.

Dolls can also be used to provide homes for Spirits, or used to create guardians. You can also use a doll as a scapegoat to prevent a curse from latching onto you.

•Shrinemaking

Shrine making is less a way to create a defined outcome, and more a way of pleasing Spirits who you may later want to call upon. It’s kinda like taking your new neighbours a pie, in case you ever need them to watch the house whilst you’re away. The pie is an overture to a friendly relationship, not direct payment for the house sitting. However, if you just blundered into their garden one day and offered them £100 to watch the house, they’d probably tell you to get lost. Randomly calling up Spirits, Saint or Deities can have the same effect. I mean, would you help someone get a job if they just banged on your door and waved some incense at you? Get your local Spirits pies. Find out what scents, and objects, and offerings that they like. Keep the land around you clean, and pick up after other people if you can. Use your vote and your money to protect the land from logging and fracking. Build a dedicated ‘meeting space’ where you call up Spirits, and fill it full of pictures of them or things they like. It pays dividends in the future.

Shrinemaking can also be used to help bless and protect your home and land. By connecting with the other Spirits that are there, you solidify the relationship, and can work together against intruders.

•Bottles and Jars

Witch bottles (or spell jars) are fun, easy ways to create a variety of effects. As a spell base, they can be effective for:

* money

* love

* friendship

* animal work

* protection

Some people define a witch bottle as strictly the traditional version which is used as a scapegoat, and call other spells involving bottles and jars ‘spell jars’. Some people use the term witch bottle to encompass all magics involving jars.

You can learn about all types of bottle magic in the free course which you can sign up for below!

•Candles

Candle magic is a much more modern form of magic than you’d think – especially if we’re talking coloured candles. Candles were very precious objects in the past! However, it was not an unusual item to have, like a hunk of crystal or fairy doll, which is why they became an item to use for undetected witchcraft – like brooms, and cauldrons.

As candles have got cheaper and cheaper and less needed to be used for lighting, much more forms and types of magic have sprung up around them. With the addition of coloured waxes or painted candles, the sorts of magic you can do with candles has grown exponentially.

Candles are a subset of fire magic and therefore are fantastic for banishing, but they are often the beginners tool of choice. It’s easy to understand why – easy to get hold of, easy to use, and there’s as much fancy ritual needed as you feel inclined to give it.

When you want to expand your knowledge, you can still stick with candles – but investigate the use of oils, herbs and crystals in conjunction with candles.

•Crystals and Rocks

Crystals and rocks are often used as ‘ingredients’ in other spells. They are very easy to add to bottles, pouches, dolls and more. However, you can also use crystals in spell work solely on their own by adding them to your pillow, till, money box, plant pot, etc.

Their use goes much further than this, but that enters the realm of energy healing which is a part of many traditions and is a very dedicated and intensive practice all by itself, and too much to explain here.

Air

You can utilize the powers of air in a lot of ways. It’s usually good for cleansing spells – think sweeping with a ritual broom, burning incense (smoke=air, not fire), ringing bells or playing bowls, singing, using flags and wheels. Air methods tend to return quick results.

Earth

Earth brings slow results, but they tend to be larger. Earth practices include enchanting seeds that will bring you money as they grow, burying offerings in the Earth, making vessels and spells out of clay, or writing spells in the mud.

Fire

Fire can bring things into your life, but is much better used to get rid of them – for beginners, anyway. If there is anything in your life that you wish to get rid of, you can write or draw a representation of it and cast it into the fire to remove it.

Water

Water can take the longest time to bring you what you need. However, think of water pounding against a rock. Drips of water became rivers, became waterfalls. Water can often bring you the biggest results, but it may take a long time.

Water spells can include potions (see below), but can also include ritual baths, leaving offers in water, or giving up bad energy or habits to the ocean.

•Bones

Bones are a contentious subject in witchcraft. Some people will never use them, some people’s practice is not complete without them. You can actually get bones in an ethical manner, by either cleaning up roadkill yourself or paying someone to do it for you, or literally keeping the bones from your dinner!

Some uses for bones are:

* Telling the future (casting bones or lots)

* Housing the Spirit of the animal so you can work with them

* Form parts of wands or ritual jewellery or headresses

* Ingredients in pouches

Tarot, Runes and Ogham

You can use all of these fortune telling tools in spells, too! You can choose one of them that has a characteristic or represents an outcome that you’d like. So if you wanted a new job, you might choose the Ace of Pentacles. Then you could do any one of the following with it:

* Use it to focus a candle spell

* Add it to a pouch or bag spell

* Add it to a jar spell

* Use it in lieu of a sigil

* Make a vision board around it

* Even burn it! (You can get single Tarot cards for this purpose on eBay.)

•Potions and Elixirs

Potion Magic used to be a lot more popular. Whilst elixirs, tisanes and tea blends are still popular for use on yourself, the masses of recipes of potions, philtres and similar recipes have all but died out. That’s because a lot of potion magic is only to be used in desperate circumstances, like love potions and curses. The reason so many old fashioned love potions are beyond creepy and controlling is that woman’s husband was her meal ticket. If he left her, not only would she be blamed, but she would be out of a house, food and her own family probably wouldn’t take her in. She had shamed them all. (Often through no actual fault of her own.) She was literally facing public humiliation, being outcast, perhaps even starving to death – and sometimes her children along with here.

So dousing a lover or husband’s food with love potion made a lot more sense then, than it does now.

Thankfully, most of us don’t live in those circumstances any more, so a lot of philtre or potion use has died out. However, there are still some amazing things you can make to ingest yourself:

* Tea blends

* Tisanes (herbals teas)

* Bath spells

* Lunar or solar water

* Herbal Oils

Spoken Magic

Spoken Magic can be long and complicated, or very short. It doesn’t have to rhyme (but it can) it doesn’t have to flow like poetry (but it can). You can use spoken incantation to help direct energy when you’re using other methods, but you can also use it on it’s own.

Some examples of spoken magic:

* Affirmations

* Words of power

* Singing

* Ritual Offerings

* Wishes

You can even banish Spirit’s solely through your voice. Shouting ‘Leave!’ with the correct intention can be very powerful.

•Written Magic

Written magic has existed since we could write. Many cultures view writing AS magic. Think about it – 26 (or thereabouts, depends on your alphabet) tiny squiggles can become anything when placed in the right order. Dumbledore was right about the power of words.

Written magic can include:

* Petitions to Spirits

* Magic squares

* Words of power or protection

* Wishes

* Tattoos

* Rune work

Bag and Pouch Magic

There is all kinds of bag magic – from mojo bags, to more modern spell envelopes. The main idea behind bag or pouch magic is that keeping a carefully curated selection of objects together for a certain time period will produce the effects that you want. A lot of bag magic produces indefinite spells provided they are charged. Such bags usually grant the wearer protection, prosperity, luck or good health. However, there are bag magics wear a specific time limited spell is wanted – invisibility spells, hex breakers and the like.

•Enchantments and Glamours

Enchantment covers a variety of spell types, but theme of the spells are pretty much the same. Enchantment covers a lot of the old folklore kind of witchcraft – hidden worlds, changing age, changing into different animals and so on.

Enchanting something fools the viewer into believing something is there when it is not, or isn’t there when it is, or is something completely different.

Think of the Harry Potter scene where Hermione explains that the ceiling of the Great Hall isn’t a real sky, it’s just enchanted to look that way.

Real enchantment can be done for fun, but they can also be useful pieces of magic. You can enchant jewelry, clothes or makeup to bestow certain personality traits upon you. You can enchant your witchy items to look normal if you’re fearful of discovery. The possibilities are just about endless.

#grimoire #witchcraft #book of spells #wicca #book of shadows #witch #spell book #witches journal #magic book #pagan #black magic #black spells #witchy #witchy spells #beginner witch #witchblr #witchtober

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justcallmenikki7 · 3 years

Text

BTS Reaction To: Them Breaking You Out of Jail

Mafia!Au & Maknae Line

Summary: the boys are not happy when they find out that you, their girlfriend, was arrested and put into jail.

Warnings: mafia related stuff: guns, killing, mature themes (torture), split!jungkook that is basically a given with his insane personality, okay jungkook is insane in this mainly because of his love for you, ACAB is mentioned in this on all of the parts mainly in tae’s part but the term ‘acab’ is not said directly, a heated kissing scene in kook’s part, THE RELATIONSHIPS WITH THE BOYS IS A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP!!!.

W.C.:

Notes: I went overboard with jungook’s part that I feel like I kind of do all of the time with his part in these kinds of reactions. But, I hope you enjoooooyyyy!!

Hyung Line’s Part

Park Jimin:

You were sat twiddling your thumbs on the cold concrete floor of the jail cell that you were for unnecessary and unfair reason. Being the mafia leaders girlfriend who is hated by the law enforcement is not really the best thing in the world. The cops who hate Park Jimin are the ones who know that they are crooked and unfair, so they very stupidly try to make his life a living hell. Sometimes, you wonder if they know what exactly your can and will do to them, especially if they mess with you.

They thought it would be okay for them to make a scene at your work by arresting you for being a suspect for a shooting that had nothing to do with you or even your boyfriends gang. Shrugging your shoulders, you let out a heavy sigh, now deciding to retie both of your already tied shoes from boredom. What you did not know is that on the other side of the jail, your boyfriend has stormed into the jail, shooting the cops that were in his way, Jungkook behind him as an extra eye. Walking up to the front desk lady who was secretly a spy for his gang, he gave a smile as she threw him a key that was specifically for your cell.

“Thanks, Jisoo,” Jimin thanked before making his way to you, sighing at the armed men that were at a stand off with his gang. “Why can’t things ever be easy for once?” He groaned before signaling Jungkook was a nod of his head.

You did not hear any commotion or even footsteps that were making their way towards you. A familiar chuckle was what got your attention, looking up so quickly which cause you to get dizzy for a split second. “Jiminie!” You squealed excitedly, running towards the bars, grabbing onto them.

Pouting, “Did you not think that I was going to come for you? My heart,” he pressed his right hand to his heart in a dramatic manner.

Rolling your eyes, you smiled, “well, you took an hour too long to come and get me,” you teased which earned you an adorable laugh from your boyfriend.

“Well, my bad, princess. Namjoon was taking a shit as I got the call from Jackson that you had been arrested, and so Namjoon delayed us.” Your boyfriend spoke honestly, unlocking the cell door to let you out.

You tackled him into a deep kiss, heart fluttering like it always does when he wraps his arms around your waist to bring you in closer to him. “I know that you’ll always come for me, my knight in shining armor,” you said once you pulled away from the kiss.

“NOONA AND HYUNG SITTING IN A TREE, K-I-S-S,” You jumped from the loud yelling of the two youngest. “On a serious note, Noona Jisoo said that the SWAT is on their way and will be here in like, I don’t know, .5 seconds,” Jungkook noted casually. A loud crashing noise was heard with a few cusses from Jimin’s hyung’s. “Looks like they are now here,” he said calmly, “I suggest we should get going, don’t you think?”

Kim Taehyung:

Kim Taehyung has always been a person who does not tolerate bullshit and people who have the train of thought of abusing their power just because they believe that they can. He knows that the law enforcement hates him because he basically does their job for them by getting rid of pests and keeps the streets clean. The hate that they have for him is from jealousy and pride. He knows that a few law enforcement people are actually grateful for him because of how Taehyung and his gang can actually figure out some cold cases and criminals that the law enforcement are trying to catch. Some cops and FBI members actually turn to Taehyung and his gang, mainly Min Yoongi the IT of the gang, for help when they cannot figure out a case even though their bosses are against it.

Anyways, the call that Taehyung had gotten from one of the officers that turns to Taehyung informing him that you had been arrested for going ‘over the speed limit’ with a suspension of you carrying marijuana on you really did not make his day. The officer, Yu Jong, gave details of which cell and area of the jail you were at that really went against his protocol, which Taehyung thanked him for, informing him that Jong and the other three officers who are for Taehyung that they needed get out of there as soon as possible because it will turn into a slaughter house. Dressing in his designer ripped jeans, a black shirt and his Gucci jacket, he grabbed his pistol and got the gang together, making their way to the jail.

You are having a glaring contest with the officer who arrested you, the distaste that you both have for one another is strong. “You’re honestly a piece of shit, you know that?” You commented calmly, knowing that your boyfriend could be showing up any minute now, so you are going to make the best of it.

“Don’t test me, bitch. I could make your life—”

“Make her life what?” Your boyfriend’s baritone voice boomed in the hallway, comforting you but mainly scaring the officer.

Smirking, you stood up cuffed hands resting against your lower stomach as you walked towards the bars, a calm look on your face. “Go on, don’t be shy now, say what you were going to say,” you said calmly, too calm for the officer.

Not saying anything due to being frozen in shock at the thought that Kim Taehyung is standing right behind him with his pistol aimed at his head with the safety off. Sighing, Taehyung rolled his eyes out of boredom, “You guys are literally all talk but cannot for the life of you actually say anything to my face, it’s pathetic really. Now, hand me the keys so I can take my innocent girlfriend home.”

Doing as he was told, you were out of the cell and in your boyfriend’s arms in no time. You knew that this was the cop who has been tormenting both you and Taehyung for years now, and you knew that Taehyung has had enough of it. So, wanting to spice things up, you whispered into your boyfriend’s ear, “He also called me a bitch, Tae.”

Smirking darkly at you, “oh did he now? What a shame,” Taehyung looked at the officer who was looking back at him with fear in his eyes, “what a real shame.”

Jeon Jungkook:

You love your boyfriend with all of your heart – you really do – but sometimes you get nervous with how … sadistic he can get with his job. You know that he loves the thrill he gets when he sees the fear in his victim’s eyes, you can tell that he gets off from it sometimes. Knowing him since you both were in diapers and been together exclusively since the age of fifteen, you are confident with confirming that you know your boyfriend like the back of your hand, and as he did you. But having been in the job since the age of seventeen, taking over his dads position when he was murdered, Jungkook, you can now say that you do not know his business side like his gang. Namjoon once said that Jungkook turns into a completely different person, someone more sinister – and you do not want to know that side; not because of the fear of him hurting (something you know that would never happen) but because of wanting to stay out of whatever business he is in.

Jungkook has made it a mission of making sure that you would never get tied into his business, and made a promise to yourself that you somehow you did, he would make sure that whoever found out about you and dragged you in would never see the light of day ever again. So, receiving a phone call from Seokjin, telling him that the cops in Busan had arrested you as a pay back for ‘scaring them into submission’ and wanting to show that they will not back down, Jungkook automatically saw red. He knew that this would happen once the Sheriff, Kim Jung, stepped down, a good friend of his dads, actually. But Jungkook dreaded the thought of the son of the Jung, Kim Mark, would screw everything up, always having something against Jungkook since the two were kids without any reason. Jungkook had told Mr. Jung that even though they were almost like family, Jungkook will do whatever he would to a person that he ran into on the street – in short, killing them – and Jung sadly accepted that possible fate of his son.

And as you sat in jail cell that was being watched over by Mark himself, both of you hearing the gun shots and screaming of the officers in the room above. There was a feeling of relief of safety that you felt, but there was also a feeling of nervousness, almost fear, that you felt that came of the knowledge of seeing your Jungkookie in action – the side that you will meet. You came to accept that this may change your relationship dynamic, something that both you and Jungkook will have a very long talk and acceptance of whatever that means. To make things clear, you will never leave Jungkook over this, but you know that this is the beginning of being involved in his second life style – the lifestyle that Jungkook was trying to prevent you from of being involved in.

So, as you heard the deep, sadistic laugh that came from your boyfriend, you braced yourself. You watched his intimidating form walk in, his long black hair in a half up bun while the lower half of his hair touched his shoulders. His signature outfit which consisted of his black ripped skinny jeans, timberlands, and an oversized white shirt and his black leather jacket – you would be a liar if you said that he did not look hot as fuck. But the one thing that you did notice about him was the deranged look in his eyes that looked you straight in the eyes – noting the fear you felt.

“Now look at what you did, Marky, you scared my girlfriend, my Y/N. Now that is another thing that you will have to pay for.” He snarled, moving to the side so that Taehyung and Jimin restricted him, kicking the pointing gun out of his hands. Walking over to the cell door, Jungkook unlocked it, pulling you into him for a heated kiss. You allowed him to dominate you for that small moment, letting out a shaky breath as he pulled away. You knew that right now the man standing in front of you is not your Jungkook, it is someone different. Brushing the hairs that fell in front of your face, Jungkook smiled down at you lovingly, “There’s my beautiful princess. I’m sorry that Marky over there caused this mess, but I’ll make sure to clean it up for you, don’t want my princess to get into anymore messes now,” he chuckled a spine chilling laugh, one that shook you to the core. But what made you even more nervous for Marks life was when you were walking up the stairs to the main floor was the scream that came from Mark and the laughter of your boyfriend that soon followed after.

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Part 4

(The side characters strike again!)

Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Part 3

L!MC= Lucifer’s kid | M!MC= Mammon’s kid | A!MC=Asmo’s kid

Let’s get right to it!

The Uncle That Hardcore Simps For His Spouse In the Most Wholesome Way (Diavolo)

Gasp! More half-demon kids? Oh my! Maybe if he tried again next year a kid of his own would pop down! Hang on- he hadn’t slept with a human in almost a century... dang. No kids for him...

...maybe...

Remember when I said Diavolo would try to do those stereotypical dad (tm) things and be hip with the kids? Yeah he keeps doing that.

The number of broken windows related to wayward baseballs goes up 150%. At least that’s how they all figured out that M!MC is nearsighted like their dad!

M!MC had developed a bit of a habit of telling Diavolo about cool human stuff and making the Crown Prince even more interested in the human world than normal.

You may be thinking “what’s so bad about that?” well, the number of yo-yos at RAD went up so high that Lucifer had to ban them.

Belphie and Satan, being the rebels they are, became yo-yo masters specifically to spite Lucifer.

It was sort of like the fidget spinners craze if you were in school for that.

Oh, hi Lord Diavolo. What’s a fidget spinner? It’s this- I should stop talking...

Since no one learned their lesson from the previous incident, Diavolo threw another BBQ.

“Why are we doing this again?” L!MC asked to no one in particular.

“Don’t worry, L!MC. I’ve taken every precaution possible to make sure that what happened last time doesn’t happen again.” Diavolo said and continued in his crusade to cover the entire pathway with sidewalk chalk doodles.

L!MC, Luke, Diavolo, M!MC, Belphie, and A!MC were all busily drawing a wide variety of doodles and drawings with chalk while the other guests milled around nearby. A!MC was in the middle of drawing quite the nice looking Cerberus chibi, while M!MC and Belphie were drawing a lot of stick figures. L!MC and Luke had just finished a wonderful drawing of... an alpaca? Giraffe? Thing...? Hell, even they didn’t know what it was.

Diavolo looked over at M!MC’s stick figure army with a big smile on his face. “So what are all of them doing? It looks like that one’s flying!”

You could practically hear the Addam’s Family theme play as M!MC and Belphie looked at each other and grinned.

“Oh Belphie was just talking about L!MC’s flying lesson fails and I felt that an artist’s rendition was needed.” M!MC explained, he began to point out certain doodles. “Here’s L!MC getting up off the ground, then there’s them actually flying, and this is them falling in the fountain.”

L!MC looked over at the chalk and glared at M!MC. “It’s generous to call that an artist’s rendition. It looks like crap.”

“And what did you draw?” Belphie smirked at the alpaca-giraffe-thing, Luke protectively covered up the drawing (side note, Luke was wearing white and playing with sidewalk chalk, by the end of the day he looked like a walking pride flag).

“None of your business!” Luke huffed.

“And what about that one?” Diavolo seemed completely oblivious to the hostility brewing between the two groups, A!MC was completely used to this and walked away to grab a drink.

“Ah, good eye, Lord Diavolo!” M!MC chirped. “This is a drawing of the time L!MC almost burned down your kitchen.”

Diavolo laughed and gave M!MC a few pats on the head. “Very accurate!”

“You’re so lucky I followed the rules and didn’t bring a water gun...” L!MC growled as they slowly reached for their backpack.

“Yeah... lucky. Real lucky...” M!MC nodded as they tried to casually reach for their bag, Belphie followed suit.

“I’m so glad we all followed the rules.” Luke smiled, his own hand inching towards his bag.

There was a brief moment of stillness before the four of them whipped out their water guns and pointed them at each other.

“This BBQ ain’t big enough for the both of us!” M!MC’s terrible cowboy impression aside, their gun was poised to shoot directly at Luke and L!MC’s alpaca-giraffe-thing.

“Everyone, I know this is a human world tradition but-”

Belphie silenced Diavolo by pointing his water gun at him. “Sh, don’t talk unless you have a water gun as well.”

Deciding not to smite Belphie for treason, Diavolo pulled his own water gun out of his shirt. “Okay, what now?”

“Now, we’re in a standoff...” L!MC glowered at M!MC, the air was practically crackling with hostility...

Until a burst of flames got everyone to whirl around to see A!MC with hairspray and a lighter.

“No water guns! I refuse to go home shivering and covered in grass again!”

Crisis averted. Everyone went to go fail at throwing beanbags into a hole instead of shooting each other.

That was probably for the best... Belphie filled everyone’s water guns with paint.

The Uncle That Does All the Cooking for Family Dinners (Barbatos)

Remember how I said that Barbs liked smol Lucifer? Yea, he likes smol Asmo too. Smol Asmo is willing to admit that they don’t know how to use an oven and is willing to learn.

M!MC is formally banned from being within 50 feet of the kitchen. It’s for the best.

A!MC often tries to get Barbatos to look into the possible futures so they can see if they can avoid messing anything up and A!MC is just so adorable that Barbatos actually thinks about it.

He still says no every single time.

“Could you at least tell me if I have the possibility of doing something embarrassing in the near future?”

“My apologies, A!MC, but no.”

“P-please?”

“The answer remains the same.”

A!MC sighed and went back to helping chop vegetables. Under Barbatos’ tutelage, A!MC’s cooking ability had increased tenfold, they could now make as many burgers as they wanted without worrying about burning down the kitchen.

Pitying the anxious half-demon, Barbatos sighed. “I cannot confirm nor deny a future where your outfit gets ruined.”

A!MC perked up. “H-huh?”

“I cannot confirm nor deny a future where your outfit gets ruined.”

Quickly understanding what Barbatos was trying to do, A!MC quickly nodded and spent the rest of the cooking time carefully taking note of their surroundings.

“Hey! What’re you guys doin’?” M!MC had managed to get in... damn! Everyone must have been putting their best efforts in keeping Solomon away from the kitchen and forgot about M!MC...

“We’re just finishing up, M!MC,” Barbatos had on his ‘oh no...’ smile. “We don’t need any help.”

“Really? You guys sure?”

“Why are you so interested?” A!MC asked.

“Lucifer said that idle hands are the devil’s playthings and that I should go look for something productive to do.” M!MC huffed. “Very ironic phrase.”

“F-fine, I guess you can...” A!MC searched for the least destructive task they could give. “Take the utensils and set the table.”

M!MC gave them a mock salute and grabbed the utensils, as they turned to leave, they knocked a large bowl of chopped fruit over, sending the fruit pieces flying.

Remembering Barbatos’ prediction, A!MC didn’t bother to try and stop the fruit from falling, they only grabbed the nearest big plate they could find and shielded their outfit from harm. The fruit splattered harmlessly against the shield.

“Whoops... my bad. You alright, A!MC?” M!MC asked as A!MC inspected their outfit.

“Y-yes actually...” A!MC turned to Barbatos, who was already getting the cleaning supplies.

“Thank you!” A!MC whispered.

Barbatos smiled and nodded. “You’re very welcome, A!MC.”

Barbatos now has two sorta-children. A!MC and Luke!

M!MC means well, I swear! He just shouldn’t be allowed in a cooking environment!

The Cousin That Your Mom Points at and Goes “Look at Him, He Helps With the Dishes, Be More Like Him.” (Simeon)

Oh man... time for some more embarrassing stories.

“Asmo was the most adorable child, it’s a shame he was such a troublemaker...”

“Really? My dad?”

“What about mine?”

“I think you can guess.”

I cannot comment on Simeon’s help with flying lessons because I refuse to Headcanon what Simeon’s wings look like until canon gives us a GLIMMER. LIKE SERIOUSLY SOLMARE IM CURIOUS-

I have a feeling the children were quite curious as well.

“What do you think his wings look like?” M!MC asked A!MC as the two peered around the corner of one of the hallways in Purgatory Hall.

“I bet they’re super nice. But besides that...” A!MC leaned over and squinted. “Why is Simeon writing with a pen and pencil? He’s writing a book... shouldn’t he use a computer?”

“Bold of you to assume he knows how to use a computer.” M!MC snickered.

A!MC frowned. “Don’t be mean... I’m sure he knows how...”

Simeon picked up his DDD and took a picture of his face, seemingly by accident, with the flash on, causing him to drop the phone in surprise.

“Probably...”

The two surveyed their angel friend like two wildlife documenters, here we see, the Simeon, not in his natural habitat, surrounded by confusing technology...

“Do you think if we scare him his wings might pop out in surprise?” M!MC wondered aloud, A!MC shrugged.

“Maybe... but I don’t think we should bother him...” A!MC whispered. “He looks busy.”

“What are you two doing?”

It took literally every bit of willpower for the two half demons to not scream in absolute terror at the sudden interruption.

Ah... it was just Solomon... in an apron... Solomon... in cooking clothes...

Oh no.

“Spying on Simeon?” Solomon asked.

“N-no...” A!MC giggled nervously. “Just crouching casually in this hallway...”

“...smooth, A!MC.” M!MC rolled their eyes.

“Well, it’s great that you two are here, I made lunch!”

A!MC and M!MC looked at each other in pure horror, they needed to get out of there!

“Uh- um... we’d love to but...” M!MC looked around frantically before just pointing at a random spot behind Solomon. “LOOK! A DISTRACTION!”

A!MC and M!MC ran out of there as fast as their legs could carry them. Finding out if Simeon had wings was not worth being poisoned. Not at all...

Good ol’ Simeon... Mr. Cristopher Peugeot on the other hand- M!MC had some questions for him.

“TSL is literally the most popular book series ever, does that mean you’re completely loaded?”

“Oh, no I’m not, I don’t have any use for human world money in the Celestial Realm. All the profits go to charity.”

“...Dude really?”

“That’s nice of you, Simeon!”

“You didn’t keep any of it..?”

Wait... Who the Hell Are You..? (Solomon)

So A!MC basically has three dads; Fabulous-dad, butler-dad, and wizard-dad!

“So you just... have capes lying around?”

“Yes, would you like a cape?”

“Okay if they don’t take the cape I want it.”

Solomon shows up to RAD with his nails painted different wacky styles every week, courtesy of A!MC.

Though- the unholy combination that is M!MC and Solomon is feared by all.

“Road work ahead?”

“Uh, yeah I sure hope it does.”

Solomon and M!MC’s rampant quoting of vines elicited another glare from Lucifer.

Despite Solomon having literally been alive since the seven rulers of hell were angels, he had kept up with pop culture fairly decently. Decently enough that M!MC had someone that wasn’t Levi to bounce memes off.

“Pff...” M!MC suppressed a laugh at a seemingly normal water bottle advertisement. “Enslaved moisture.”

“I’m not going crazy, right Simeon? You’re hearing this too?” Lucifer tiredly turned to the angel, who shook his head.

“This is just the tip of the iceberg. Solomon quacked at M!MC earlier and they lost their minds laughing about it.” Simeon shrugged, unbothered by the sorcerer and the half demon’s rampant meme-ing behind them.

Lucifer on the other hand, was quite bothered. Incredibly bothered, if you will. “If you two don’t shut up right now I’m going to-”

“Quick! We must abscond!” Solomon turned and heelied away, followed by M!MC. The shoes that Mammon bought to replace the ones lost during the casino incident were apparently heelies as well...

The day was saved when a rock jammed one of Solomon’s wheels and he slammed face first into the concrete. Yikes... that had to hurt.

A!MC had fun glow in the dark bandaids for Solomon to patch up his face. Even though he he could heal himself with magic, he let A!MC do what they wanted because they were just too adorable to say no to.

Asmo has pictures

The Cousin Squad (tm)

(Luke, L!MC, A!MC, and M!MC)

Ah yes, the bab squad. The most adorable group in the Devildom. Surrender your candy immediately or face destruction.

M!MC teases the crap out of Luke, and A!MC tries to stop it, but L!MC is the one who manages to actually make M!MC stop.

Only L!MC gets to pick on the smol angel. GOT IT?!

A!MC and Luke are already baking buddies because of butler-dad so they get along swimmingly.

Poor Luke’s the victim of many of M!MC’s shenanigans.

Luke: Are you sure this is safe, M!MC?

M!MC (about to put mentos into the bottle of coke Luke is holding): No.

L!MC and A!MC get along really well, being honest, everyone loves A!MC.

A!MC makes sure L!MC gets some sleep because they don’t want their cousin picking up on Lucifer’s habit of living off of coffee and coffee alone. L!MC doesn’t get it but they’re very grateful anyway.

M!MC and A!MC were friends from the start. Well... M!MC decided they were friends right from the start and A!MC did not have the ability to fight the power of friendship.

M!MC: You are being befriended. Please do not resist.

Since M!MC is great and amazing like their pop, they took it upon themselves to be the friend that speaks up when A!MC is too nervous to do so.

M!MC and L!MC? Lucifer and Mammon 2 electric boogaloo. Sorta.

L!MC and M!MC bicker all the time but the babs bounce back from their fights way easier.

One minute they’re at each other’s throats and the next they’re showing each other memes.

“There’s no escaping this.”

Lucifer stood between M!MC and the door... their one way ticket to freedom...

“You need to go to the dentist.”

The entire HOL plus the Purgatory Hall crew were getting ready to go visit the dentist to get their teeth cleaned. It was the time of the year that Mammon dreaded most... and his child felt the same way.

“My teeth are fine! Lemme stay home! I’ll hold down the fort with dad!” M!MC smiled and nodded as enthusiastically as they could, but even the most unobservant person couldn’t miss the sweat beading on their forehead.

“Beel.” Lucifer snapped his fingers and before M!MC could do anything Beel had thrown them over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Don’t worry M!MC, the dentist isn’t that scary.” Beel tried to assure them. By the way M!MC was still kicking and screaming, they were not convinced.

“Y-yeah kiddo, suck it up! Don’t be a baby! I’m just gonna take my car there-”

“MAAAAAAMOOOON?!”

“YIKES!”

Lucifer had the important task of keeping a hold of Mammon as the very large group made their way to the dentist’s office.

A devious little idea popped into L!MC’s head as they all sat down in the waiting room. They began to hum a familiar little tune.

“She said be a deeeentiiiist~ a dentist!” L!MC sang to M!MC, who’s attempts to escape increased tenfold after hearing the song.

A!MC began to hum along, not seeming to notice the commotion going on next to them.

“Son be a deeentiiiiiist~ people will pay you for causing them PAIN! She said be a deeentiiiiiist~”

Belphie perked up and smiled deviously as he realized what L!MC was doing, he began to sing along as well. The three were a veritable choir of terror to poor M!MC. Mammon did not understand his child’s terror and was more unnerved by what a great team Belphie and L!MC made.

Satan rolled his eyes and tried to focus on his book, Asmo was absorbed in his magazine, Levi was having a very in depth conversation with the fish in the aquarium, Simeon and Solomon chatted about school, and Luke was stuck watching the train wreck go down.

Thankfully, it was halted by Lucifer. “L!MC, A!MC, Belphegor, stop tormenting M!MC with show tunes.”

“You would have made a good dentist in another life, Lucifer,” Belphie cooed. “You know what they say, the only difference between a dentist and a sadist is that one has newer magazines.”

Asmo grimaced at his magazine. “Is it the sadist? Because I’m reading a magazine from 1843...”

The conversation was interrupted by one of the dental hygienists coming into the waiting room and saying that Mammon was up first. The Avatar of Greed’s final escape attempt was foiled by Satan (not even looking up from his book) clotheslining him.

Thirty minutes later, Mammon emerged from the forbidden dentist room, with the look of trauma in his eyes and eating a lollipop.

One by one, the group went in, A!MC took it upon themselves to try and make the rapidly panicking Luke feel better.

“It won’t be too scary, in the human world dentists are usually very nice.” A!MC smiled encouragingly.

“I-I’m sure that’s true but...” Luke looked around. “We aren’t in the human world...”

Asmo skipped back in and flashed a blinding grin to the group. “Absolutely perfect, no flaws! It’s your turn, A!MC!”

“If you die I get to say I told ya so!” M!MC shouted as A!MC walked into the dentist’s room.

They did not in fact, die because of the dentist. A!MC walked out and gave a thumbs up. “The dentist said they had never seen a kid with such perfect teeth.”

“That’s my baby!” Asmo chirped.

“M!MC, you’re up.” A!MC and Beel had to practically drag the poor kid out of the room and into the dentist area of doom.

“GO BE A DEEEEEENTIIIIIIST!” Belphie and L!MC shouted one last time as the doors shut. Wow, what dickheads...

Mammon probably would have tried to save his poor little bugger, but he was in the middle an impromptu therapy session with Simeon over the scary scraping dentist knife thingie.

Beel was the last to go, and he walked out of the dentist’s room with his face covered in blood, the dentist walked out after him, missing a hand.

“You tasted like toothpaste.” Beel sighed. “Not good.”

“Don’t worry,” The dentist said to Luke, who looked like he was about to pass out. “My hand will grow back in about four to five minutes.”

Luke, still terrified, nodded. L!MC patted him on the shoulder.

“Anyway, almost all of you are fine, but I have to recommend M!MC to the orthodontist.” The dentist flipped through their notepad one-handed. “Their secondary set of fangs are coming out crooked and need to be corrected with braces immediately.”

M!MC sat calmly for a moment, then attempted to sprint out the door. “NO NO NO NO NO!” One of the dental hygienists grabbed them by the back of their shirt and halted their escape.

“Sucks to be you.” L!MC smirked.

“And L!MC needs to fix their cross bite, braces are a strong possibility.”

The colour drained from L!MC’s face as the news dawned upon them. “Pardon, but what exactly are you talking about..?”

“Your top jaw and bottom jaw aren’t properly lined up.” The dentist explained. “It will lead to problems later if it’s not fixed now.”

Lucifer rubbed his temples and sighed. “L!MC, if you try and run away I swear...”

L!MC stiffened and shook their head. “I’m not some coward, I’m not running away. Just... what exactly are you going to do to my mouth?”

The dentist pulled up a few pictures of the braces and explained what would be done. L!MC nodded, and turned to their father with a big smile on their face.

“It won’t be so bad, mind if I go to the bathroom before I get the mold for my teeth made?”

Lucifer nodded and almost audibly sighed in relief. He basked in the glory of having a child that wasn’t afraid of the dentist and faced their fears like an adult-

L!MC sprinted past the dentist’s office, they had busted out of the bathroom window.

“...Beel.”

“Yep.”

A few minutes later, Beel returned with a completely irate L!MC who was screaming their demands to be put down and be allowed to run for the hills. Taking advantage of the distraction, M!MC ran for the door again, only for Belphie to tap them on the forehead.

M!MC collapsed into a snoring heap on the floor.

“FATHER! DON’T MAKE ME DO THIS!” L!MC practically screamed as they tried to wrestle themselves out of Beel’s bear hug.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “L!MC, calm yourself down. It’s just braces.”

“AS EVERYONE HERE AS MY WITNESSES I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS! NEVER!”

The half-demons in need of braces were dragged right back into the dentist’s area... poor fools.

“They’ll be okay... right?” Luke asked.

“Of course they will be. It’s just braces.” Simeon patted Luke on the head. “They’ll both be fine.”

The scream that came from down the hall right after Simeon said that did not reassure anyone.

“Hey,” Mammon piped up. “How much do braces cost?”

“From what I know about dental procedures,” Satan rubbed his chin. “A few thousand Grimm.”

“Mammon if you try and run for that door I will cut your credit card into a thousand pieces.” Lucifer growled.

Overall, it was a fairly average trip to the dentist. 0/10 would not recommend. A few weeks later L!MC and M!MC were fitted with their mouth prisons- I mean braces, and the two cousins bonded over their horrific mouth pain...

Seriously- braces suck.

——————————————

So! Those are the headcanons! Four and a half whole parts... phew... To all the people who enjoyed this series, thank you so so much for reading! You guys have been so super nice!

Fret not, I plan on writing more for this universe! From what I know about season 2 of Obey Me things will get... interesting. Stay tuned for more! Or don’t, I can’t force you.

...or can I?

#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me! headcanons #obey me! shall we date?#Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Diavolo #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Solomon #Obey me Mammon #Obey me MC #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #Obey me Luke #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Fic #Lucifer’s Kid

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

Text

Angel || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No. Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: Lots of angst in the beginning, mentions of self-harm/self-destructive behavior, mentions of blood, quite a few mentions of the devil, ptsd, just a lot of dark themes ig (let me know if i need to add another warning) Summary: You’ve always been an angel in Draco’s eyes and now, years after the war, he’s reminded why once again.

WORDS: 3440

I’ve been wanting to write about the ‘devil on the shoulder’ trope for a while and I felt like @anchoeritic‘s 3K WRITING CHALLENGE was the perfect opportunity though i think i lost the plot a bit at some point and this probably isn’t what you had in mind.

i had to do so much research for this, probably the most research i’ve ever done for a fic. It’s a lot heavier than I’d intended for it to be (i almost cried at certain points) but I still really love it.

anyway this fic is inspired by ‘Angel’ by FINNEAS (which is a great song that I recommend listening to) and i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

~~~

Anger.

So much anger that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Red, hot, fury just begging to be unleashed.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. When he opens them again his fist collides with the wall. “Fuck!”

The miniature Mephistopheles that’s made home on his shoulder tells him to keep going, that this is the only rational response. Draco heeds the advice until his knuckles are bleeding and there’s a dent in the wall.

He lets out a frustrated sigh as he thinks about you returning in a few hours, then he punches the spot one last time out of frustration. Draco’s own love for destruction lies parallel to the myths surrounding Beelzebub, his own virtues bringing him to peril instead of an unseen force of evil. But it’s much easier to believe that the voice always telling him to do wrong, is not his own.

Maybe this is who he is, a fucked up kid with anger issues. Maybe this is all he’ll ever be, knuckles spotted in crimson and harmful thoughts being shoved down as to not raise alarm.

He feels violated by the mark on his arm. Sobs stacking up in his lungs at the very thought, but all he can express is anger- all he can understand is the resent that crawls beneath his skin and settles into his bones like calcium.

Was it his choice? No. Did it matter? No. Choice means nothing in a world run by circumstance. Intention holds no value when there’s no action to follow through. In another world, a better world perhaps, he would’ve had the right to choose and he hopes that he would’ve chosen the right side- the good side.

Forgiveness, they say, is often practiced by the strong willed. He’d tried to forgive, he really had, but Iblis had told him that it didn’t matter who he forgave because they’d still done this to him anyway- they’d still sold his soul to the Devil.

“Draco, when will you forgive me?” She pleads and he shrugs with a thin smile.

“I don’t know mother. I don’t know.”

“It’s been years.” He turns a steal glaze toward her.

“And yet I still can’t get the mark off.”

“What am I meant to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s too late to do the right thing.”

“What would the right thing have been back then? Huh?”

“The right thing to do would’ve been to protect me.”

“I did protect you. I took the Vow for you!” She yells as she stands out of her chair and points an accusatory finger toward him. He’s seen this scene so many times before that it’s permanently imprinted in his mind, but this time he’s not a scared teenager being scolded by his mother.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” He stands as well, “I just asked you to save me. Why didn’t you save me?”

“What?” She’s taken aback,

“Summer before fifth. You told me that you’d had enough of him, you told me that we were going to leave and run away so that you could save me from him, from all of them.”

“So now you hate me because I couldn’t leave your bigoted father?”

“No, mother. I hate myself because you couldn’t leave my bigoted father.” He tucks his chair back into the table and pulls out his wand, “Thank you for dinner mother, it was lovely.”

Then he’s gone, and he doesn’t come back.

Draco had shut himself out from the world, hoping that his loathing would dissipate with time but it hadn’t. He still wakes up every morning with that tiny voice reminding him that he’s worthless, and he still believes it.

Why had he done it? Why had he allowed them to put the mark on his arm in the first place? Why had he put his own morals, his own principles, on the line to save a family who might not have done the same for him? Why had he allowed himself to succumb to the many ministrations of Diabolous, which dragged him further and further down the dark side?

Weakness. That’s the only answer he can conceive. Or maybe that’s the sound of Lucifer on his shoulder, consistently reminding him that he’s no match for the evil that resides deep within his soul. He can’t fight it, it’s who he is. He’s weak and he’s unholy. Bathed so often in sin that it’s sunk into his DNA. Does that even make sense?

Draco shakes his head and runs his hands down his face in an attempt to ground himself. But it doesn’t work, all he can see is red and all he can hear is his own conscience belittling him for continuously making the wrong choices. Why does he always make the wrong choices?

His throat so dry it feels as though he’s swallowed sand. His palms sweaty like he’s dipped them in oil. He paces around the room in a desperate effort to remember where you’d placed the box last time this happened. He can feel himself disconnecting from the world, feel himself sinking further and further into the dredges of his mind that torment him most.

That part of his brain that holds the memories, the shame, the anguish, is his biggest obstacle in recovery. It’s always on good days, days when… He blinks when he realizes that no fond memories come to mind. Does he even have good days? Or does this always happen, is this what’s become normal for him?

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and steps back in shock, completely forgetting about his mission to find the box. The man in front of him looks clean, taken care of. When had he become this man and stopped being the terrified teenager that never ate and wore bags beneath his eyelids like name tags.

There is muscle on his arms, taut beneath the dress shirt that he must’ve put on that morning before going to classes… or work? When had he earned the right to stop looking the way he felt? Which of his actions had merited his beauty returning, when the dark mark still lays clear beneath the dress shirt that he’s got on? There are hickeys along his chest- one, two, three, littered around his torso like a map to his heart- and he can only assume that they’d been left in the wake of your last meeting, because he can’t seem to piece together the memory of them being made.

You. Where are you? Why can’t he remember where you are or what you look like? Did you finally leave? Did you finally realise that he wasn’t worth any of the pain and anguish that he’d put you through? Had you ultimately decided that Draco and the dark mark could not be separated, both physically and mentally? Maybe he never managed to redeem himself in your eyes, and it hurt so much to lose you that he made himself forget.

Redemption, he’d searched far and wide for it. He’d spent the months after the war trying to find some spiritual cleanse for the ailment in his essence, had dabbled in every muggle religion he came across in hopes of finding something that would provide him freedom from guilt. The Bible, the Qur’an, the Gita, the Torah, the Guru Granth Sahib, the Tripitaka- none of the holy books he’d read had promised him enough solace to feel deserving of love from a higher entity. They had all just reminded him of the purity and innocence that muggles embodied, the same qualities he came so close to erasing.

Redemption wasn’t in the cards for him. If it had been a game of Poker, Draco would’ve been the first fold with the knowledge that he didn’t stand a chance against the better players at the table. Who were the better players? He didn’t really know, he just knew that he wasn’t one of them.

His eyes drift toward his reflection once more and he feels disgust crawl through his anatomy. Nausea, a familiar friend in times like these, making itself comfortable in the barrel of his gut. Why had he even eaten today anyway? Sustenance won’t fill the emptiness that’s making domicile in his chest, it won’t make him less of a habitat to repulsive regret and desolation.

He walks toward the dresser and picks up a pocket knife that’s sitting in-between some make up and a music box. Then like deja vu he can already feel the weapon pinching, digging beneath his skin as if it’s trying to excavate bone. He recalls blood pouring out, drowning his pale skin in spills of vermillion and carmine, and dropping to the floor. The floor, chalky tile with tiny chards of black glass engrained in it, something that he hadn’t come up with himself but liked anyway. Who had come up with that again?

Screams, familiar but unrecognizable, had filled his ears soon after. He remembers his arm being wrapped in a bandage, him being carried off the bathroom floor and taken to the Hogwarts infirmary, no, it was actually St Mungo’s. He remembers being treated and loud cries settling down into comforting whispers beside him. He remembers feather light touches being placed on his face and kisses settling onto the skin of his palm.

He remembers something good, but he doesn’t know what.

He remembers the injury, and knows that it didn’t work.

Draco takes a deep breath and puts the knife back down. Staring at his reflection once more he sees that the man standing before him is not the same child that had stepped into battle way back when. When was that? Months? Years? He can’t tell.

The box. The box will tell him. But he doesn’t know where it is, he doesn’t even know where he is anymore. This room is definitely not his Hogwarts dorm room, it’s not in Hogwarts at all, and it’s not his room in the Manor either. Where is he?

His eyes shoot up when he hears a door shutting, and soon after voices follow suit. The voices are coming toward him, in this strange room that he’s in, and Draco struggles to identify them. His dorm mates potentially? No, this clearly isn’t Hogwarts. Friends? His mother? You?

Then there’s a laugh, from a child, from two children, and suddenly none of it makes sense any more. He knows those voices, he knows those laughs, so well that they might as well be his own, but he can’t seem to attach faces or names to them.

A few of the voices drift off, further down the hall, and one gets louder as the door to the bedroom opens. Draco holds his breath as the person walks in, not knowing what to expect, and feels a confused sense of relief wash over him when he sees you standing there.

You laugh as you enter the room, “If you can get an outstanding in Transfiguration then we’ll get you whatever your heart desires.” You respond to your daughter as you recall how both you and Draco had struggled with the subject during your Hogwarts years.

You furrow your eyebrows at the state of your bedroom- documents scattered across the bed, clothes in tiny piles all over the floor, and a tiny dent in the wall beside the bathroom door. A sigh escapes your lips as you process the mess and prepare yourself for what’s about to come. You turn and your eyes land on your husband, and your heart breaks at the sight of him. He’d promised this morning that he’d be fine, it was the only reason that you’d left him alone, but clearly he wasn’t.

“Love? Are you okay?” You ask softly as you take the shoes off of your feet and close your bedroom door behind you. He tilts his head to the side momentarily in confusion, but then realisation flashes across his eyes and he takes quick strides toward you.

“Oof.” You breathe out when he pulls you into his chest and rests his forehead on your shoulder.

“Y/N.” He muffles into your shoulder and you feel your heart swell with love for him- this man who recognizes you instantly, even when the entire world is nothing more than a distant memory.

“Miss me?” You ask with a small laugh as you bring your hands up to wrap around him tightly. He mumbles an agreement and you smile, “I missed you too.”

“Bad day.” He whispers and you nod, rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him.

“I know baby, wanna talk about it?”

“No. Can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” You pull him away from you and kiss his forehead with a warm smile, “We can just lie down for a while.”

He obliges as you pull him toward the bed and shuffle the papers off of it, climbing on after you and setting his head in your chest. You run your fingers through his hair and hum, trying to your best to make him feel calm and prevent another breakdown.

But your efforts are futile, within the hours that Draco had been alone he’d thought every terrible thought that he possibly could, Al-Shaitan had already tormented your husband through a series of painful misconceptions. Draco had never really subscribed to religion or faith but after the war he’d identified quite quickly with the concept of the Devil- confessing that he believed he had an evil conspirator sitting on his shoulder- and felt that his own soul deserved to be damned. You’d tried to rid him of that notion, many times, but it never worked, he was in too deep.

You tense up when you feel a cry escape his lips and his fingers tighten into the space of your torso. “I’m sorry.”

He feels terrible, terrible for ruining all of your hard work. All the effort you’d put into rebuilding him now disintegrating in the blink of an eye. But you’re here now, you’re going to fix him again, he knows it.

You try to level your breathing so that you don’t cry too, so that you don’t fall into this pit of despair with him, because Merlin knows that any pain Draco feels takes as rough a toll on you. You pull him off of you and sit up, bringing him to sit as well, so that you can look him in the eyes.

“Sorry for what Bub?”

“For being broken. I-“ He feels another sob rock through him and you pull him into your chest. “Please fix me Y/N.” He pleads, a whimper following suit.

His fingers are digging into you again, he’s clinging so tightly to you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t stay close enough, and it hurts you to know that even after all these years he’s scared that you’ll leave.

“You’re not broken Draco, there’s nothing to fix.”

“But I’m- I’m-“ Cries start to escape rapidly and interrupt him. He can’t see clearly anymore as tears form in his waterline and obstruct his view of you. It hurts, everything just hurts.

“You’re not broken, my love.” You whisper as you cup his face, “You’re not evil, you’re not bad. You’re good. You’re my husband, I love you. Did you open the box?”

He shakes his head, “Couldn’t find it.”

“Okay, let me get i-“ You’re cut off by your bedroom door opening and your children marching in.

“Dad, you’ll never guess what happened at school today- Oh, is this a bad time?” Ariel, your daughter, stops in her tracks as she raises her eyebrows at you.

You shake your head and gesture for them to come in. “I think it just got a little much for him this year. Please get me the box, love.”

Ariel goes to the headboard and pulls out the aforementioned box from the first drawer, before her and Cael, your son, get comfortable on the bed beside you and Draco. But Draco doesn’t need it anymore, he can already sense himself coming back down to earth. He knows where he is- with you, in your house, with your children, in your bed. He’s home, he’s safe.

He takes the box anyway and begins to unload its contents in silence, the three of you observing him with admiration. It’s a small circular box that your children made a few years back after witnessing one of his episodes for the first time, containing momentos from the last 18 years of you and Draco’s lives together. Pictures, notes, a few school projects.

“Tell him about what happened at school today, it’ll probably make him laugh.” Cael encourages his older sister Ariel, and she does as told.

Draco pays a significant amount of attention to the story, piecing together facts that he’s slowly starting to understand and recognize as a part of his normal life. He intertwines his fingers with Cael’s as Ariel continues telling the story from her spot on your lap.

Love.

So much love that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Bursts of it just choking him out.

Draco remembers everything now. He remembers this house of yours, the one he’d bought straight out of Hogwarts and begged you to live in with him because “It’s nothing without you in it”. These children that you’d had 14 years ago, that’d he’d been so scared to raise because he thought they’d resent him, and that made everything in the world just seem brighter. This life that he modeled with you on the embers of his haunting past, this life that reminds him he’s good.

Before you, he would’ve been terrified to show any one his vulnerable side, especially his children, but you’d taught him that loving someone means loving all the good bits and the bad bits, all the happy moments and the sad moments. Now he knows that when days like this happen, when he gets so lost inside the mental maze of his own construction, the three of you will always be waiting to help him out.

Ariel finishes her story and Draco bellows out a laugh, feeling thankful to have you three around in his moments of weakness.

His three guardian angels- the only people who can always lead him away from the shadow in his mind and toward the luminescence that he carries within him. “All the good within us is split in the middle, half from you and half from mum, just as it should be. I hope you remember that we wouldn’t be who we are without you both.” Cael suddenly speaks up and you smile pridefully at him.

“They wouldn’t.” You add once he’s done and smile, “I couldn’t have done such a bad job without you.”

“Hey!” Ariel accuses and you all laugh.

“She’s right though, I am the one who taught you hexes at age 7.” Draco grins bashfully and you roll your eyes.

“And look at us now, acing Charms!”

“See love,” Draco turns to you, “There is a method to my madness.”

“Mhmm.” You hum with a small smile. “Go do your homework, dinner soon.”

“Yes, I’m making pizza tonight.” Draco adds as he kisses both of your children on their foreheads.

They excitedly hop off the bed and run out of the room. “I can’t belie-“

“Harry called.” Draco interrupts you and your eyes go wide at his statement but you nod for him to continue, “He wanted to know how I was doing, you know with it having been 18 years since the war and all. Offered to come spend the day with me and make sure I’d be alright while you were gone.”

“And you said no?” You raise your eyebrows and he shakes his head.

“No, I told him that I’d come by his office instead. Then when I was getting ready… I just started having flashbacks again, and my mark hurt. I felt horrible all of a sudden, like there was huge weight on my chest and this fog obscuring my vision.”

There are few things that Draco has faith in, but you, you he never runs short on trust for. You’re a constant in his life, a shoulder that he can always rely on when he needs it, and as he sits here and tells you about his day, he feels love for you hit him tenfold.

You, this beautiful, kind, ethereal being that has no place on earth. You, the one who’s managed to convince him that saints are real. You, who has given him your entire life, along with all the love that you have to offer. You, Y/N, the love of his life.

You.

An angel.

~~~

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