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melodic-haze · 14 days

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Can I ask about sub Arlecchino being fucked with a strap-on in his office? I love your writing and sub Arlecchino is so... 😩

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!fem!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Mommy kink 😜 aka reader is the 'Mother' figure to Arle's 'Father' ahahahahahah, reader with a strap referred to as a dick, overstimulation, semi-public? It's in her office so

☆ — NOTES: THANK YOUUU OMG I'M HAPPY YOU LIKE MY WRITING ANON❗️❗️SORRY THIS WAS ROTTING IN THE ASKBOX I had to do some stuff 😭😭😭 but it's okay bc I come back with a VENGEANCE

Ohhh dude the thing that just popped into my head you're NOT READY (delusional)

While she thought that battling her own children + the Traveller was the best move, it had kinda very much irked you. "I had trained them, it's fine," she says dismissively at the time when you confronted her and something inside you just kinda! Snapped!!!

If a Father has to have a hard hand on his children, then a Mother contrasts that by giving them a gentle touch

That DOES mean that you are to put anyone who threatens your children in any way, and Arlecchino is NO exception whatsoever

And what better way to punish her than to give her a taste of her own medicine in.. a different context?

One hand grabbing a fistful of her hair as you pushed her head down on the desk and the other clenching onto her hip as you moved her on your length, you're drilling into your lover relentlessly despite the slurred sobs that she had let out.

She had cum so many times by now, you didn't bother to keep count after the third time. Through that, however, you hadn't even entertained the mere thought of stopping, only reluctantly doing so when you ran out of stamina or needed to drink water—it's not as if you let her catch her breath as you did so, with the vibrator you had shoved into her at max setting whenever you needed to step away.

Your assault hasn't relented in the least, no matter how many times Arlecchino begged you to stop, no matter how many times she said to do better, no matter how many times she pleaded for you to go easier on her.

"Why would I give way to lenience when you hadn't done the same?" You mused coldly as you continued to plow into her over and over again, "You deem yourself exempt to my wrath, Peruere?"

You feel her try to shake her head in response before quickly following it up with a slurred defense, "N-No, 'm nn-- mmng! Not.. I--"

You clicked your tongue and gave her ass a loud smack, which earns you a garbled moan from the one underneath you, "You can't even form coherent sentences because of something you initially regarded as an 'unnecessary' action.. but that's okay."

The auditory mixture of her excess of slick between her thighs, your skin coming in contact every time you bottomed out inside of her, the pornographic noises that escaped her lips... It was all downright sinful, something completely unbecoming of her position.

But right now, she didn't care less. Or couldn't, more like, considering the complete lack of thought in her head. The only remaining thing within her mind was you and the way you put her in her place.

And the both of you knew that she relished the feeling of having things out of her control.

"You don't need to answer me," you continued, leaning down to press a kiss on the back of her neck.. before shoving her face down roughly as you straightened back up, "you just need to be put in your place, baby. Understand?"

You actually receive a desperate nod amongst the constant surge of white-hot overstimulation and constant orgasm.

"Good... Just don't resist and let mommy discipline you properly."

As if on cue, she cums again with a jolt, much to your delight.

Wanna fuck her so hard that her juices drip onto the floor and slide down on the side of the desk 😞😞 oughhghghh

There's that RISK of being caught in the midst of your lil session too—you could have it locked all along and while normal everyday Arlecchino would've noticed it perfectly fine, the Arlecchino you have underneath you is wayyyy too fucked out to actually realise in the moment so she's panicking but also? Her arousal is actually RAMPED UP are you kidding me

She won't admit to exhibitionism but there's smth There when she thinks of how the world would know that you have such a powerful Hold on her 🫶

But rn she doesn't care to move, not when her thighs are quivering and her pussy's aching to be filled all over again, practically getting used to the feeling of you inside her

Godddd break her enough and she might not be able to live without you ☺️☺️ or maybe you already have who knows ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ just saying the moment you donned the title of a Mother was the moment that she was indesputably yours for you to do as you saw fit ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

#hazy demos!#hazy explicits!#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #sub arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact smut #sub genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin smut #sub genshin #genshin women x reader #genshin women imagines #genshin women smut #sub genshin women #genshin women

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yandere-wishes · 5 months

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I just found a love in your almost cult yandere clone tropes and their cyares with the Jedi blessings. I mean damn you (later than ever). I'm imagining Cody and Rex and the bad batch. Or just Cody sharing with 😉 .

You made sprout the cult follower in me.

Here at Yandere-Wishes HQ, we try to inspire the inner cult follower in all our fans. We want the dark, deranged side of all our clients to shin through and someday even start cults of their own. 💜💜

I'm very sorry for how all over the place this is, tried to section it off as best I could. I'm still incredibly jet lagged😭😭

I think the reason behind the Jedi giving their blessing so freely to the clones comes from an inner yearning to be loved. The Jedi know their place in the universe, know that a sentiment-free life is what they must endure. Still, if those around them can be happy, then (in a selfless way befitting a Jedi) they can be happy too. Although I'm rather curious as to what would happen if say Anakin or Obi-wan fell for the cyare of their commanders.

Personally, I think Rex and Cody would definitely share a darling. Same with Echo and Fives (and maybe Tup too). Maybe if you REALLY want to lean into the cult aesthetic Anon, then what if each squadron has its own cyare?? A darling shared amongst all of them (That's a lot but I'm kinda only referring to the relevant troopers from each squadron 🤣🤣) it would be super cute if all her dresses were in said squadron's colors. Kinda like a personal cheerleader for them. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself here lol.

🧡💙Being Cody and Rex's darling.

💙They're both very busy men. Constantly being deployed to the front lines. Always busy with some mission or another. They've tried to make sure at least one of them is with you, so you're never alone. It doesn't work, there are always long periods of time when you are trapped in isolation.

🧡I truly believe that Rex and Cody's cyare wouldn't really "feel" like a "cyare", per se. Sure she doesn't have any freedom and is never permitted to make any decisions on her own. But they treat her so well, give her anything she could ever want, and they never hurt her in any way.

💙Rex and Cody are both strict, not much leniency coming from either one. They have strict rules for they're cyare, under the pretext of keeping her safe. They've seen and experienced all the cruelties of the galaxy. And they don't want ANYTHING to ever hurt you.

🧡Cody is more affectionate. More open with embracing and kissing you. Rex is much more reserved, stiffer. Yet he can't help but melt whenever your lips push against his.

501st sharing (Rex, Fives,Echo, Tup, Jesse, Hardcase and Kix)

It's honestly exhausting belonging to all of them. Constantly being pulled in every direction. Sure the 501st is one of the gentler squadrons per se. But they are smoldering, constantly wanting to touch you in some way. It also doesn't help that regardless of the mission one of them is left behind to "watch" you. Not so much out of a fear of you running away but more out of concern for your well-being. I wonder what would happen if Anakin began to develop feelings for this particular cyare.

As for the bad batch I've yet to watch it (Although I've only heard good things) So I can't make a full observation just yet. Although I'd like to think that Hunter and Wrecker are on the "tougher" side, using force to make their cyare submit. Tech falls more into the stalker category. Take all this with a grain of salt, these ideas will 100% change once I've actually seen the show.

.... All this aside can you imagine Obi-Wan and Cody sharing a darling?? Or even Anakin and Rex sharing a darling?? I mean every cult needs its leader right 😉😘

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tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang · 1 month

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Do you have an idea on how to defeat Tokyo Revenger characters for Kakucho, Izana, Senju, and Takemichi pls?

Well Kakucho would be pretty difficult but by playing on his leniency and determination you might have a shot. Kakucho is said to not be very vicious during fights and will stop once the person gives up or is out of it, he's a fair fighter. So the best way would be to try and trick him into going easier on you or by thinking that you're giving up. Aside from that a few characters have mentioned him not being as good when his heart isn't in the fight. For Kakucho to be at his strongest, he has to want to fight not just be following orders. Sp it's important to not rile him up or present yourself as being a strong opponent, make him not want to fight you and he won't be as good.

For Izana it's all about avoiding his hits and watching his movements. Izana is very fast with his attacks, so similarly to Mikey it would be best to fight him in an environment that slows him down, somewhere he can't move about as freely. Izana's also been shown to prolong fights with talking or to treat them as an almost game if it's someone he's interested in. Talking during the fight or doing something interesting to him may make him prolong the fight somewhat instead of going straight for the win.

With Senju it all comes down to confidence, yes she's strong and hard to beat but if you manage to knock her confidence she doesn't do as well. She either holds herself back or almost becomes fearful, Senju needs to believe she's going to win so take that away from her. The other way would be to set up some kind of trap for her to fall into, she seems quite reckless when she fights and doesn't always think things through.

Takemichi highly depends on which Takemichi at what point in the series you're fighting. But with all of them his durability is the hardest thing to face. No matter how many times you knock him down he keeps getting back up. Assuming you don't want to kill him, the best way to keep him down would be to either attempt to knock him unconscious or to tie him up and cover his mouth somewhere, though you would need to be aware if any of his friends are around they'll just let him out. There's also a good chance he'll try to talk you out of fighting him so don't listen or get distracted by his words.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo rev #kakucho #izana kurokawa #senju kawaragi #hanagaki takemichi #tokyo revengers spoilers

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marmotish · 2 months

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OK so the line of dialogue turned into a kind of rushed almost-900-word fic….

Never forgive, never forget

(1991 Lockdown of Azkaban)

It took a moment to recognise the prisoner hunched by the hurriedly-closed door. It wasn’t until the woman raised her head - sunken eyes glaring from beneath matted dirty red hair - that Freyja realised who it was. Gone was the proud and arrogant Professor Rakepick, here now was merely a vengeful shell of what that woman had once been.

“Well well well…” a ghost of Rakepick’s old sneer flickered across worn features. “If it isn’t the source of all my problems.”

She began circling the room, eyes locked on her former student - no, her former pawn. Here now, wandless - just like her. And best of all, the scales were definitely tipped in her favour. Her skill and speed in wandless magic far exceeded that of Freyja’s. At that, she straightened her posture slightly, in some semblance of her old stance.

Freyja swallowed hard but remained silent, slowly moving around the interrogation room’s perimeter, maintaining the distance between them. Her heart was beating so hard she swore it could be heard across the room.

“Now I know why I’m hiding in here…” Rakepick began, narrowing her eyes in what looked like amusement . “But why are you? I thought you’d be out there getting yourself into another mess you can’t handle…”

Mad-Eye locked me in here. Getting a student killed or even hurt under his watch wouldn’t be great for his career. He’s mad, not stupid.

Rakepick flexed her fingers. “By the way, I never got the chance to thank you for sending me to this hellhole.”

Freyja managed to push past the lump in her throat and finally spoke. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Oh no?” That old sneer again. “Did you ask the authorities to exercise a little leniency? Let me off with a slap on the wrist?”

“No. I just hoped you’d die in the Sunken Vault.”

Rakepick let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Small mercy that would have been! If I had stayed down there, I would have been swept into Death’s merciful embrace in a matter of days! Days!” She moved a little closer now, her voice dropping to a hiss. “But now, because you had to tell the Professors where you left me, I get to relive my worst memories day after day after week after month, and there’s NO end in sight, you know why?? Because they don’t want you to die here! Oh no! They keep you alive, just strong enough to keep the jailers satisfied! JUST ENOUGH FOOD AND WATER TO MAKE SURE YOU CAN KEEP ON SUPPLYING THOSE FUCKING DEMENTORS WITH ANYTHING RESEMBLING A POSITIVE EMOTION UNTIL YOU’RE DRAINED OF EVERYTHING THAT MAKES YOU A HUMAN BEING!!!”

Freyja was sliding her hand on the wall behind her trying to find the hidden panic panel, trying her best to keep her breathing calm. “Well that makes me feel a little better then. I’d hate to think a traitorous bitch like you got off easy.”

“You should be begging for my forgiveness, you selfish little shit.” Rakepick moved within a few feet of Freyja now, positively snarling at this point. “Whatever wrongs you think I’ve done, I’ve paid for at least a hundred times over. This never-ending sea of torment you’ve doomed me to is more than any human is meant to endure, and damned if you think I’m going to stay here - ”

“Then leave. I’m not stopping you.”

“Oh don’t worry.” Rakepick curled her lip into a mirthless smile. “I fully intend on escaping from this place. And you’re going to help me.”

“You’re even more insane than I thought if you think I’d willingly help you.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything so voluntary.”

Feeling the slightly warmer panel underneath her hand, Freyja pushed down. It didn’t budge. Freyja stubbornly kept her gaze locked onto Rakepick’s crazed, glazed over eyes. The woman was angry and desperate, which made her all the more dangerous. “A hostage? Dementors won’t give a shit about a hostage’s safety if it’s in the way of getting a prisoner back.”

“Actually I was thinking less of a hostage and more… a distraction.”

The panic panel still wasn’t depressing into the wall. Come on, come on! Fuck! Freyja frowned in exertion, hoping it would be mistaken for wondering how Rakepick intended to use her as a distraction. “I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t. But I’ll tell you - those soul-suckers out there are starved. They’ve only been able to feed off whatever remnants of humanity are left in this cesspit of human souls, but you - ” Rakepick stared intently at Freyja. “You are fresh from the outside. You’ve still got plenty of good thoughts and memories in that little head of yours. A veritable feast for any Dementor in here. Think of yourself as my own little living Patronus, Miss Young.”

“I’d much rather think of you rotting in here for the rest of your life.” Freyja said through gritted teeth, thinking finally she may be feeling the panic panel start to budge.

“Save your happy thoughts for the Dementors, sweetheart.” Rakepick moved forward , creating an even more uncomfortable closeness. The acrid smell of body odour wafted up Freyja’s nostrils. “You better hope there’s enough to satisfy the Dementors before you’re left with nothing but your own worst memories. And well, if that happens…. at least it’ll make me happy.”

#hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #freyja young #patricia rakepick #ask #drinkyoursoupbitch #worldbuilding wednesday #not quite what the soup fairy asked but uhh you can kinda guess what freyja thinks of reconciliation and forgiveness….

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toxinellebug · 5 months

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Paris and the World under The Supreme’s Rule Headcannons

Back during WW2, when Marianne suggested to Wang Fu they should use the Miraculous, she of course meant using them to fight. Wang Fu decided to use them to make a wish;

World Peace.

The price?

World freedom.

So there are SOME good things… No war in Vietnam, no war in Isreal, and good news Americans; 9/11 never happened and school shootings do not exist because it is impossible for anyone to get a gun, not even hunters!

On the downside, no guns for hunting means wildlife conservation is a thing of the past. Animal overpopulation in addition to human deforestation has led to a significant decrease in food sources for wildlife, many of which have gone extinct due to starvation. Another plus side is there are no “slap on the wrist” punishments for criminals who assault women and children. Death penalty is a very effective way to prevent recurring crimes.

Prisons are also no longer a multi-million dollar drain on tax-paying citizens; no free room and board for criminals. They all have to work in labor camps to earn every morsel of food and live in 15 square foot cells.

(Marinette’s Grandmother is currently serving time in a labor camp)

There aren’t really much in the way of trials either… You are arrested for a crime, presented with the facts/evidence, then sentenced.

There are no homeless wandering streets, begging for hand-outs. There are special labor camps for the impoverished where they are assigned tasks that meet their physical and mental abilities, snd are paid enough to afford them cheap living quarters, approximately 130 square feet in size, and the most basic of food stuffs and hygiene products to keep them alive. No, they cannot refuse.

Remember, the Supreme knows best.

Project Oxygen is a go- several small parks have been “re-habilitated” into giant filters and fresh air is beginning to be sold in fancy plastic bottles thanks to Bertrand King. He’s been trying for a while to convince Gabriel that Adrien should do commercials for Project Oxygen, as it would be great for the boy’s career…. But Gabriel always comes up with an excuse to get out of it. The latest being that it wouldn’t match with Adrien’s new look.

Audrey Bourgeois ADORES Adrien’s new look! It’s so much more bold and edgy! Also, the latest fashion trend is not glitter, it’s metal studs- industry and progress in a sleek, metallic form.

Audrey is home more often than Andre, who could be gone for months at a time working on one of his movies. But of course he still handles important paperwork and does video calls to check on hotel and sends lots of very expensive gifts to his little Princess.

Chloe is even more abusive and demanding of Sabrina, and poor Sabrina puts up with it for her father’s sake-

There has been a lot of vandalism lately (thanks to Shadybug and ClawNoir) and talk that Enforcers just aren’t as effective at keeping the order as they used to be. Word is that tech Giant Tsurugi is in the process of designing new automatons that will be more efficient (and less costly) than human Enforcers. Who knows? There may even be a surge of Enforcer lay-offs if the project becomes successful. Chloe has hinted that she MIGHT be willing to put in a good word with Daddy, should Mr. Raincomprix be one of the many Enforcers who finds himself out of a job. The Hotel could always use more security guards/bouncers. But since Daddy ONLY hires the most DEDICATED employees… Well, how can Chloe possibly make a recommendation if she’s not sure Sabrina’s dad would REALLY give it his all? So Sabrina bends over backwards until she breaks and then some to keep Chloe happy.

Officer Raincomprix is also uneasy about talks of future layoffs, and as such, has become harsh in Enforcing law and order. No little wrong doing goes unnoticed or forgiven. No leniency. (Think Roger-cop without the Akuma).

Rose is not that perky. Under the Supreme, there is no socialist nonsense like Universal Healthcare, so medicines, doctor visits, prescriptions, hospitals… it’s all crazy expensive just like in the USA. This means, in order for Rose to be able to attend a private school like Francois Dupont; her parents work a LOT of overtime and pinch pennies whenever they can. So it’s very lonely at home and in this universe, Rose has not (yet) met Juleka (as stated in previous headcannon). Instead of Unicorns, Rose’s favorite animal is the Caladrius, (a mythological bird that can heal any illness). Though unicorns and kittens are still in her top five favs.

Rose doesn’t see the word through rose-colored glasses. She can’t see the silver-lining in ever raincloud… Instead, she tries to make it herself; if there is no positive, she will just have to invent one! It’s more work, and exhausting, but she HAS to, otherwise she’d drown in depression. Rose’s illness is kept a secret, not because she fears people will treat her with pity, but that she fears people will look down on her; like she’s a burden on her parents, like it’s annoying to have to put up with her weakness.

(I’ve actually been sick myself, since xmas day in fact- perhaps as punishment from the universe for making ClawNoir cataclysm Santa Claus)

Penny is Bob Roth’s personal servant- er, I mean, assistant… which means she’s also gopher for XY. (There is no woman in Paris more miserable than Penny).

Jean-Pierre Monlataing is still an Art teacher at Francois Dupont… and he teaches traditional art styles. Helping students practice time-honored techniques through repetition and standardization. Graffiti is not art, so no spray-paint cans in his classroom! Alix Kubdel is his most troubled student. Marinette does not attend art club. Nathaniel shows great talent for portraits.

Jalil strives to be better than his father; he admire Nathalie Sancoeur and hopes to rise to her position of Director of the Louvre someday.

Directors of Museums are prestigious positions you have to work hard your whole life to even be considered for, as The Supreme appoints them. As far as the public knows, this is for the sake of preserving history as well as ensuring that dangerous ideas from the past do not repeat themselves and inspire anarchy in young, impressionable minds.

The reality is that they are searching for clues to missing Miraculous.

The Supreme has already taken steps to ensure the Prodigious will never pose a threat to his power (Temple and access to cave have been destroyed and the bracelet has been confiscated and placed in a secure location).

But there are still most likely Miraculous scattered across the earth. Gems that, if fallen into the “wrong hands” could disrupt the peace and order that the Supreme has worked hard to maintain.

Marianne intends to find these Miraculous first… if only she had the help of someone younger and more physically up to the challenge.

When Gabriel/Betterfly/Hesperia forms “The Resistance” and Marianne is introduced to their ranks, this is exactly the plan she suggests in order to take down The Supreme and give power back to all the people.

She only has a few clues on where to start searching though.

…Fun fact, if you were to unify the Ladybug miraculous of creation with the Eagle miraculous of freedom, you would get Ladybird- determined to create a new, free world.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

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AITA for expressing my opinion?

So my friend and I both think this celebrity is super hot and really talented. He is known as both a musician and actor and typically we both really enjoy all his work. I comment on the fact we both think he’s super hot because usually that helps us give a bit of leniency when perhaps his acting/singing isn’t the absolute best because then we just enjoy giggling over his looks. I know that in itself is probably not great but hey, who hasn’t had a harmless crush on a celebrity at some point right?

Anyway. Cut to, this guy recently did a couple of concerts and we saw some online clips. I said “oh god it sounds like he is out of practice, probably from the long break because of the pandemic, makes sense. Wow I hope the people who went weren’t disappointed because wow that wasn’t very good and they paid a lot. I’m sure once he’s got his groove back before his next few tour stops this fall, he’ll be great again. I just hope this doesn’t sway people away from buying those tickets.”

My friend completely bit my head off saying I was being “too picky” and “rude” when like…I only told her so it wasn’t like he (lol not that he reads comments even if I had posted one) or any of the other fans would be affected. She said she doesn’t get why I have to be so negative and ruin her experience of the video because me pointing it out made her really see it too and I should have been more considerate when she just wanted to enjoy the clips. I told her I was confused why she was upset and she said that my negativity about his performance just shows I’m not the fan she once thought I was. I said that I can still be a fan and not enjoy everything he does, and she said she was just disappointed because now she feels self conscious expressing the things she enjoys about the performance knowing how I didn’t like it.

Mind you, we both are in our early 30’s and should be able to express opinions to each other respectfully. I admittedly did tell her this sentiment and you can guess how well that went over, but by then I was kind of shocked by her attitude. I tried to ask her what she liked to try and get things back on track but she said she didn’t want to tell me anymore.

I’m not saying I was perfect in the situation…but, AITA for “ruining her experience” then saying we should be able to express ourselves to each other?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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controversial-blorbo-bracket · 10 months

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So it’s 5am and I currently can barely read but I thought I’d share my thoughts on Adrien as someone who hates him for who he is but also because of the writers (apologies if this ends up incoherent).

So this guy is rich, 14, and has family issues. I don’t want to put too much spoilers (idk the rules if I can) he grew up in Paris with a supposedly loving family that was overprotective and homeschooled him and only let him have two friends. One year before canon, his “mom” disappeared and his life changed to having no mom and an overprotective yet neglectful (at best, at worst abusive) father. NOW WITH ALL THIS IN MIND- people will defend any and every poor action he has ever made between three options: he’s only fourteen/a kid, he doesn’t know better, or he’s hurting (but stans won’t give the same leniency to the main character who is also fourteen, might not know better, and is hurting)

While these are fine explanations, let’s go over some of things he’s done in canon (or slightly off-canon for tv specials): attempted to kill multiple people for poor reasons, did kill someone (accidentally) because he wasn’t focused on a fight after being (rightfully) called out for a major error (leaving his city unprotected and not even trying to inform the main character who also had to leave but at least had counter measures and informed him), shamelessly continued flirting and harassing the female lead/main character despite multiple instances where after she realized he was serious/in love with her and told him to stop/that she loved someone else/or that she didn’t like him doing that, destroyed property multiple times intentionally due to emotional reasons without remorse, abandoned his duty multiple times either by not helping to fight villains for petty reasons (main character got additional to help beat the villain, couldn’t tell him a secret that wasn’t hers to share, main character didn’t reciprocate his feelings or bend over backwards to tend to his needs) or completely gave up/or threaten to give up his duty (if I remember correctly four times), manipulate the main character both in and out of the suit, side with bullies and victim blame because either they were his friend and didn’t know better or they just wanted friends and he didn’t want them to be hurt/cause more work for the heroes, leave his ring that gave him his superpower in a place during one of his quits in a place where nobody might have found it or anybody could have just picked it up (despite it giving him the power to destroy anything and one half of a pair that could completely alter reality if used together), almost never gets lasting consequences, and is almost always depicted as perfect or correct, EVEN WHEN HES NOT.

I could go on but I think I may have overdone it.

In his defense, or rather in the offense of the writing staff, the creator of the show not only has ruined many characters over the years of the show for a variety of poor writing decisions, but he deemed Adrien perfect as he was and didn’t need to change so from the very beginning this boy was doomed to fail in my opinion rather than fall from grace like other characters. So while I may dislike the character, I understand that people might go to fanon stuff instead of write him better than the creators ever did. Still doesn’t mean I like him or ever want to read about him (especially positively or involved with the female lead) ever again.

wait the miraculouses are killing people???

#not a poll #ask #anonymous #propaganda #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #Adrien salt #anti adrien agreste #Thomas astruc salt

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missywritesfor7 · 9 months

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🌙Moon’s Light | JJK🌙

Synopsis: Luna is a young paralegal trying to maintain her new found independence and enjoy life. Too bad her job sucks and her boss is the worst. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she encounters a vampire named Jungkook who changes her life in more ways than one.

Jungkook is a shield and protector of the vampire kingdom of Korealis. He’s trained his entire life to block out any and all distractions and focus solely on becoming the strongest. While investigating a potential threat to the kingdom, he encounters Luna who turns out to be more than he could have ever imagined. It becomes his job to protect her, but he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is his devotion to the job or perhaps something deeper.

Secrets are uncovered. Lives are on the line. Hearts are tested.

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Fem!OC

Warnings: Violence, character death, eventual smut, tragedy, some angst, strong language, MINORS DNI

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

|| Ch. 47: Undercover ||

Luna wakes up once again finding herself alone on the couch bed while a furry Jungkook is curled up peacefully on the bed next to his mother. She rolls her eyes for being left alone but smiles because he’s still the most adorable thing to her and if Sunyoung is the only person he puts before her then she’s ok with it. She decides to go into the kitchen and get a pot of coffee started for the three of them.

Sunyoung begins to stir awake at the smell of coffee brewing. That causes Jungkook to wake up as well. The chain reaction brings the three of them together in the kitchen awaiting fresh coffee and contemplating what to have for breakfast.

While they’re in the kitchen, the elevator can be heard. They weren’t aware of anyone visiting, and it’s not quite time for Luna to go downstairs for a few hours and wait for anyone who may need to come or go through her portal. They look towards the elevator doors anxiously awaiting whoever is on their way up.

The doors open and the three of them meet eyes with King Hojin IV. Jungkook instantly springs into action and stands before the King with a respectful bow. Luna follows along, having learned in her time here that following Jungkook’s lead when it comes to addressing royalty is the best way to stay out of trouble. Sunyoung follows behind as well, but instead of bowing she steps toe to toe with the King and growls at him.

“Where the fuck is he?” Sunyoung says through her teeth.

“Good to see you too, noona,” the King says amused.

“Tell me where he is before I break you.”

“Will you step back and give me a chance to explain?”

“You have two minutes,” she growls stepping back.

“I apologize for my mother’s insubordination, your highness,” Jungkook panics with another bow.

“Don’t apologize for me,” Sunyoung says. “I meant what I said.”

“Mom!” Jungkook scolds.

Sunyoung shrugs then the King raises his hand to get them to stop so he can speak.

“I wanted to give you all an update,” the King starts. “Using the information we gathered from you and Min Yoongi, we were able to fill some holes that we had in our investigation for a while.”

“A while?” Luna whispers. Jungkook nudges her elbow not wanting to deal with both his mother and girlfriend speaking to the King out of turn.

“Have a seat on the couch and I’ll go over everything.”

“I prefer to stand,” Sunyoung defies.

“Mom!” Jungkook whines. He goes through a crisis every time she opens her mouth.

“Sit down, Tokki,” she says pointing to the couch. He and Luna do as told and Sunyoung looks back at the King. “Go on.”

The King shakes his head then continues. “Minseok has been under investigation for a while now. A long while. It was mostly speculation at first and we can’t do anything about that, but as members of Saakhan Venom were being captured and questioned intensively, we had one give us some interesting information. Of course the information was given in an attempt to receive leniency, but we couldn’t go on without at least looking into the claims for legitimacy.”

Everyone is fully invested in what the King is saying. It’s a mixture of confusion, shock, and uncertainty. They continue listening quietly as the King continues detailing an operation that started long before anyone had a single idea.

After the passing of the late King, rumors spread about Minseok possibly attempting to take the throne. Those rumors didn’t go unnoticed by royal personnel, and when Hojin IV took over after his father, he made sure to keep a close eye on Minseok just in case.

Years of suspicion finally led to the breakthrough the King needed to begin closing in on Minseok. Knowing what Minseok is capable of, the King approached this as delicately and quietly as possible. No one knew anything other than Prince Sejin, the King’s younger brother and father to Namjoon and Taehyung.

The Saakhan member claimed Minseok had worked with the previous SV operation in the past. He explained how the plan was for Minseok to be spared in order to take the throne himself, but no one knew that because the SV member turned on him. Prince Sejin took it upon himself to find the Saakhan Minseok worked with in the past at the work camp he had been sentenced to.

After centuries of endless back breaking work, the Saakhan member had no fight in him. He immediately told everything that went on between him and Minseok. The entire plan and his reason for turning on Minseok in the end.

He didn’t believe Minseok was capable of running the kingdom and didn’t think Minseok would hold up on his end of the deal. The leaders of SV gave him a much better offer, though it didn’t matter because their operation was a failure.

The King went on to explain that he didn’t want to do anything to raise suspicion but he had no way of keeping an eye on Minseok at all times. Jungkook and Jin catching him trying to harm Luna was the perfect opportunity to give Minseok a punishment that would make it easy for the King to monitor him. Because of this, the King was reluctant to release Minseok from his house arrest, but because Jungkook asked and seemed so hopeful, the King decided to free him.

Just as the King feared, Minseok decided to take the opportunity to expedite his plan as soon as he was released. Knowing he needed Jungkook to cooperate with him, he continued to play nice. At that point, the King didn’t have much other information to work with outside of the centuries old information that was proving difficult to find concrete proof of.

Thanks to Luna catching a glimpse of Minseok’s memory and researching the post on the message board, the investigation found new life. Not only that, but the lost Saakhan coming through her portal unexpectedly gave the King the opportunity to separate them from Minseok for a while.

The operation to close Luna’s portal was always the plan, however the King wanted to get more monitoring and emergency equipment set up first. Unfortunately the timing wasn’t on his side, but he’s delighted to know she hasn’t had any ill effects so far.

All of this information has Jungkook’s head spinning. He only recently discovered Minseok had been planning to use him all along, but he never would have guessed his own father would work with Saakhan Venom. Judging by the look on Sunyoung’s face, he can tell she had no idea either. Despite the anger brewing inside her she remains quiet as the King continues speaking.

The King’s decision to suspend Jungkook from his duties was for a couple of reasons. He wanted to be sure Jungkook hadn’t sided with his father. Placing him on leave with little explanation would certainly upset Jungkook, but the King needed to see if he would run to Minseok if he were upset. He was delighted when Minseok revealed that Jungkook hadn’t spoken to him at all.

The other reason he placed Jungkook on leave was because he knew that would be the only way to keep him from trying to get too involved. He’s very appreciative of Jungkook’s dedication to the job, but since the King and his brother were already working on a plan, he didn’t want Jungkook getting caught in the middle. However, the King didn’t think they would get Yoongi involved, and while he got great information from Yoongi, he didn’t want Yoongi getting caught in the middle either.

When the King felt he had enough to confront Minseok he had guards take Sunyoung to Jungkook and Luna’s location. She was confused and he only told her it was for her safety. In reality it was to save her from killing Minseok the moment she learned of everything.

The King knows she promised to kill Minseok if he ever did anything that could harm her sons. He understands, but he knows her power and she would cause a disturbance the same way Jungkook would.

“You think I have so little control over my ability that I would put others in danger?” Sunyoung says offended.

“I can’t help you if you kill him,” the King says.

“Yes you can!” She snaps. “You’re the King!”

“Oh now I’m the King?” He sasses.

“Don’t make me remove that spell,” she threatens.

“Spell?” Jungkook asks confused.

The King looks at Sunyoung who only sighs. He gives her a nod and she swiftly hits the King with a quick burst of ice that leaves him unharmed and unfazed. Jungkook looks in part disbelief and part horror at the sight of his mother hitting the King.

“I put a spell on him after his ascent,” Sunyoung says. “I didn’t want the same thing happening to him that happened to his father. He’s protected just the way my home is protected from that fucking weasel Minseok.”

“What?” Jungkook is in disbelief.

“I’ll explain it later,” she says. “Right now I just need to know if Minseok is still alive.”

“Noona,” the King sighs. “He’s currently being held in-“

“So he’s alive?” She interrupts.

“I wasn’t going to kill him.”

“You don’t have to, because I will. Take me to him,” she demands.

“Mom!” Jungkook fusses. “The King!”

“I don’t give a damn what he is!”

“I’m not saying anything else until you calm down,” the King says.

Sunyoung stares him down a moment before finally nodding in compliance.

“He’s being held in the executive sparring room,” the King admits, knowing exactly what’s about to happen. Sunyoung knows exactly what that room is. The room where nothing can be heard or felt outside of it no matter what’s unleashed in there.

“Let me see him,” Sunyoung says in a much calmer tone than a second ago.

“Sun-“

“I need answers, Hojin. This is my son’s life. You know how it is.”

The King thinks a moment. There’s no telling what Sunyoung will do if he lets her see Minseok. As a parent, he also can’t deny her the chance to at least question him about this whole thing. He ultimately agrees to let Sunyoung speak to Minseok with a guard present.

While Jungkook has questions of his own that he’d like to ask Minseok, he chose to stay behind and not go back to the palace with his mother and the King. He’s still trying to process everything he just learned so he feels seeing Minseok now wouldn’t be the best idea. Not until his mind is right.

The ride to the palace is thick with tension. Sunyoung wants to explode but the King begs her every few minutes to not kill Minseok. Regardless of how disgraced Minseok may be and how serious his crimes are, the King can’t do much for her if she kills him. She would have to face punishment the same as anyone else.

“Promise me you won’t kill him,” the King pleas to Sunyoung once more as they get closer to the palace.

“No,” Sunyoung says sternly. “I already promised him I would kill him.”

“Noona, please think of the boys. No matter how they feel about Minseok, I know they would be devastated to lose you too. You know killing someone comes with a life of servitude at minimum.”

Sunyoung sighs hating that he’s right. This is all about protecting her boys, but what good is it if she can never see them again in the end. Still, she’s not one to break a promise.

“Promise me,” the King pleads again.

“I won’t kill him today,” she mumbles.

“Come on,” he sighs.

“Today,” she reiterates. “I promise I won’t kill him today.”

“Fine,” he resolves. “I hope you think carefully before you do anything.”

“You know I always do,” she smirks.

Once they arrive, the King takes Sunyoung to the executive sparring room. It sits alone in a building at the very back of the palace grounds. The building is used for nothing else, only serving as a shell for added protection from the strongest of abilities from anyone inside. He leaves her to enter the room with a guard. He knows seeing Minseok wouldn’t be a good idea right now so he remains outside.

Sunyoung steps into the room with the guard closing the door behind them. She immediately walks towards Minseok who’s chained in the back corner of the room. He immediately stands when he notices Sunyoung coming for him. He’s battered from his fight with the King, but he manages to stand on his one leg anyway.

Before Minseok can open his mouth to say anything, Sunyoung reaches back and unleashes a powerful slap to his face knocking him back to the ground.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Sunyoung yells. She grabs him by the collar and picks him back up then slams his back against the wall. “Are you trying to get him killed?”

“Where is he?” Minseok asks.

“I told you I would snatch your life away if you ever harmed my boys.”

“I didn’t harm him,” Minseok defends.

“You’ve been setting him up his whole life to fight for the throne just so you can have power? If you want the throne then you fight for it yourself, don’t bring Jungkook into it.”

“Have you spoken to him?” He still hasn’t heard a word from Jungkook. He’s convinced that the King is lying about not punishing Jungkook. He doesn’t care about anything other than Jungkook’s whereabouts right now.

“If he wanted you to know where he is, he would have told you.” She still has a hold of his collar and shows no sign of letting up any time soon. “Right now his whereabouts are the least of your problems.”

“I just need to know that he’s ok.”

“He’s doing just fine. Now tell me why you’ve been using him like this for your own ego? Did you ever even think for one second the amount of harm he would face? Did you even ask him if he wanted this?”

“It’s all a misunderstanding,” he lies angering Sunyoung more.

“Fuck you!” She shouts releasing his collar and putting a tight grip around his neck. “You just want me to kill you, don’t you?”

“If you were going to do it, you would have done it already,” he says trying to call her bluff.

Sunyoung squeezes his neck even tighter while slowly sucking everything out of him. If he thinks she would be bluffing after all of these years then he’s much more foolish than she thought.

“You have a death wish, Jeon Minseok,” she growls. “Tell me why you’ve been doing this to him or I will make sure whatever punishment you get will be nowhere near as bad as what I’ll do to you.”

“I wanted to tell you, but I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”

“You’re one to talk,” she scoffs. “Your greed for power left you without a leg, yet you still decided to risk my son’s life for your own selfish gain?!” She continues slowly sucking the life out of him as her hand maintains its strong hold on his neck.

“I wanted a better life for my family!” He chokes out.

“You wanted power, you greedy fuck! You don’t even realize that you have no family! Junghyun doesn’t talk to you, and Jungkook has been fighting you since he was a child.” She sucks almost enough life out of him to make him gasp desperately for air.

“Ma’am,” the guard says approaching her. He finally feels she’s done enough damage and felt it’s time to interfere before she kills him.

“It’s ok,” Sunyoung says releasing Minseok from her grasp. “I promised I wouldn’t kill him today, so I won’t. I don’t break my promises.” She leans down to get in Minseok’s face as he sits in a heap on the floor trying to catch his breath. “Your days are numbered, Jeon Minseok.”

Sunyoung turns and walks out of the room with the guard on her heels. She immediately notices the King waiting outside for her.

“Calm down, Hojin,” she says walking by him. “I told you I wouldn’t kill him today.”

“What did you do then?” He asks, following behind her.

“I kept my promise. Like I always do.”

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jjungkooksthighs · 3 months

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He considers her as the desperation makes her expression contort in the most adorable way. Pouty, pursed lips that just ask for his attention paired with the way those moonlit irises of hers flick everywhere they can around his own face for any sign of a shift in his own demeanor are too fucking cute. She’s even struggling now. How delightful. As if she could ever hope to overpower him physically. Her smaller frame allowed her to be quicker when she wanted to be, but like this, with both her wrists caught in one of his own hands and his other wrapped tight around her neck with her back pressed to his front, she could not hope to use that to her advantage. Besides, he’d just catch her anyway if she tried. He always did.

“How pleasing it is to hear and see your despair, little one.” His knee is driven out from between both of hers, and she falls to her knees as he chuckles darkly. “You can’t take it? You should’ve thought about that when you decided to buy those internal contraptions.” He releases her neck only to grab her chin and force her to look up at him, his eyes narrowing at her as he chides, “You knew full well that there’s only one way you can ever come, but you tried it anyway.” His fingers grip her harder. “You knew what lying to me would cost you, but you kept it from me for four months. And to make matters worse, you openly reject me in the eyes of all of my alphas.” His words are scathing despite the ice cold chill his eyes send down her spine when he speaks again. “I’d say tying you up and leaving you to writhe in our bed during your next heat in,” he lets go of her wrists to tap at his own chin, “four weeks, based on your scent, ought to teach you some fucking manners.”

A loud, absolutely petrified whine leaves her at that. He's done it once before, on account of her disobedience when she'd walked out of the house in a dress he'd disapproved of. He left her crying for him, telling her that she'd have to stay put, without question, and that only then would he forgive her. He could stay away from her only for a few hours, however. Her wanton cries and the smell of her heady arousal all too sweet for him to resist. She'd never forget how her body ached and cried for him. Those few hours felt like personal hell. She'd torn apart the sheets in utter frustration, the dulcet covers ripping away as if nothing but paper in her hands as she'd tried to stay put like he asked, regret eating away at her as she dwelled on just how wrong she had been to walk out disobeying him like she did. Now that she thinks of it.. that incident had involved Jin too.. she can't quite seem to remember much, however. She doesn't have time to try and recall her prior errors when he's almost prowling towards her in rage to regard her present ones. She crawls back, pushing herself against the hardwood floor, trying her best to avoid the heat of his ire. "A-alpha.. please!! NO!" she nearly screams at the thought of having to go through that again. He was kind enough to grant her mercy last time. She doesn't think he'll give her that lenience now. Of course not.. not with how many times she's disobeyed him recently. "N-no! Please! Alpha, I'll do ANYTHING!" she shakes her head frantically, her voice cracking under the pain she feels when she puts too much weight on her already bruised wrists while moving back. A pained whimper leaves her, and she lets her back rest against the broken table, bringing a hand up to her aching wrist in an effort to soothe the sting. He steps forward once more, now merely inches away from her as he stands towering over her trembling form. She lets her eyes meet his, her lips trembling as another whimper leaves her. When she sees nothing but anger and hot rage, she lets her resolve break, opting to beg once more. "Alpha.. p-please! D-don't-" It doesn't seem to please him. He doesn't let her complete her sentence, cutting her off with a hiss, clenching his jaw as he glowers down at her, eyes narrowing in annoyance as he brings a finger up to his lips, a silent order for her to stay quiet. It doesn't shut her up. She has to change his mind. She needs to! "A-alpha.." she starts, and if it was even possible, his glare seems to get nastier, his head tilting a bit to the side as he stares down at her, as if watching, waiting for her to try and disobey again. "..p-please-"

He remembers that gown she'd worn. It had lived in his dreams for weeks and months after he had seen her in it that night. Sometimes, when he's alone, he still imagines her standing in it with that same coy gleam in her eyes that she'd used to beckon him that night.

It had been the night of the Iaeila. The night in which all members of the pack would celebrate the coming of another bountiful spring and show the goddess, Iaei, their appreciation for another blessed season of fertility both in the crop and in the females. Iaei was the goddess that presided over fecundity and femininity, and it was custom to honor her when the spring handed its reins to the summer.

He'd spent the entire day overseeing decorations and preparations for the ceremony and events that would be held in Iaei's honor, and his mate? He'd made sure she spent the entire day with the dressmaker and her attendants.

She had been with them still when he'd returned home to her, the smoky scent of the fires fresh on his clothes.

He'd followed the swirls of jasmine and pine to their washroom where his mate had been surrounded by four other women, each of different sizes and builds. They'd been chittering about which color would pair best with her eyes, their gowns twittering about as they circulated around her.

He'd been amused by it at first. Their womanly chatter had been entertaining to listen to. As if it mattered what color her lips were when he would wipe it all away with his kisses and tongue before the night's end.

He'd ended up leaning against the doorframe waiting for them to notice him in his own little game. It had taken one of them to come around to her front, who had had the phial of red lip stain, to notice him. She'd just finished daubing the stain onto his mate's lips before the young, vociferous woman had seen him, her eyes widening in shock before she'd bowed her head and curtsied to him with apologies on her lips. The other three had followed just as quickly, their chatter quieting as they'd shuffled out with apologies under their breaths.

His mate, however...

She had remained in her chair, her ebony-rimmed lids lowered in submission as she had looked at her hands in her lap. Her cheeks had been dusted in the faintest of reds, and her lips had been painted in the color of the freshest strawberry in the fields. The dress she had chosen for herself was red as blood, the straps on her shoulders thin as twine yet they were wound thicker as they travelled down her chest. The sides and partial undersides of her small, pert breasts had been on full display for him, and gods, what a sight that had been. A wide, sharp v-line bodice was cinched at her wast by a thick band the same color. Her beautiful long, thin legs were crossed and on display with the slits cut into the skirt that began along her upper thigh to open into a wider 'v' on either side of her legs. What little modesty the gown did offer was between her legs with the strip of fabric that travelled between her legs.

There had been so much to admire, and so much to look at.

In the fire that burned hotly in the many candles scattered in the room, she'd looked like a temptress sent straight from the Lord of the Succubi.

"I hope you know you won't be going anywhere but our bed tonight if that is what you plan to wear to Iaeila. No other male will be able to keep his eyes off you, and I can't have others staring at what is only mine to see." He'd said with a whistle.

She had twisted her hands in her lap nervously before asking, "You don't like it? I...I wanted to try something new."

He had pushed off the doorframe at that one, his feet bringing him nearer to her as he ogled her possessively. "My love, you misunderstand." He had continued toward her, his irises focusing on the way her breasts had begun to swell irregularly with her quickening breaths with the weight of his heavy stare on her. "You look too tempting to go out in that. I won't be able to keep myself off of you. And I do not like sharing. What I see now belongs only to me, and I should be the only one to see this."

The words had been all the affirmation she needed, and when she'd peered up at him from her seat, he'd seen the burgeoned, blooming mischief in them.

She'd been able to smell his desire as much as he'd been able to feel it between his legs.

Both had been enough for her impishness to return.

The same impishness that he'd seen in her eyes when she denied him in front of his alphas not too long ago. The same impishness he'd seen in her eyes when she would consort with Jin at her side.

He had not missed that thought of hers that had dashed through her head. Of course Jin had fucking been involved in that. He must have had some input in her selections for that night. He'd never seen her wear anything like that since, and nor had she used the same oils since. He'd been on her like a moth to a flame.

The impishness that had danced in her eyes that night does not dwell in her now as she scrabbles back from him while he prowls toward her prone body and begs for mercy.

Mercy that will not come.

He pulls back his lips to reveal his teeth as he portends, "If my presence during your heat mattered that much to you, you would not openly disobey and disrespect me as you do." His hand flings the brass candelabra off the perch of the fireplace that they stand near as he growls, "If my position as leader of this fucking pack and that of your mate mattered, you would not be on your fucking back groveling for forgiveness." The candelabra rolls against the ground as her own nails scratch at it as she scrambles back and he follows. "You dare ask for mercy, but how many times have I given it to you and been given nothing in return but more defiance?"

#alpha jungkook asks

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disinfernus · 6 months

Text

Teamwork Makes the Interrogation Work

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Edge of Wormwoods PARTIES: Dis and Zofia SUMMARY: What happens when a lampade and a vampire go after the same target? They work together to get answers and rid the world of one less hunter. WARNINGS: Mental manipulation occurs as well as some stabbing.

This one seemed promising, but Dīs grew weary. The year was almost over and they hadn’t gotten much closer to figuring out what happened to their aos sí, a frustrating reality. But they were keen to keep up with this one, at least — maybe make it one last good interrogation before the new year. Or maybe they’d get something good.

They remained largely undetected, keen on keeping themselves out of view until the very last moment — until she showed up. Where had she come from? Had she been tailing this man the whole time? Wherever she came from, she seemed to have the upper hand, so much so that the nymph couldn’t help but to break from their safety blanket and make themself known.

“Wait–” they commanded, pleading, as they became visible once more, glamour taking over instead of their usual immense self. “I need him alive.” Please. Their tone indicated more, but they didn’t exactly have ‘converse about your family drama’ on their agenda for that night.

Several faces had leered down at her in the four months she’d been hidden away. This one certainly hadn’t been the worst offender. Not that that mattered. Being the least worst of her captors didn’t earn the hunter any leniency.

Zofia had been stalking him from a distance through town for what felt like hours. And then he’d made the foolish decision to venture a little ways out of town, toward the woods. She prowled, just far enough away to evade his notice. He might have been able to sense the presence of the undead, but in a town full of them pinning down her location would be like finding a needle in a haystack. She stopped, and watched, and waited- ignoring the fact that every fiber of her being screamed at her to lunge and end it quickly. But she’d only killed the first one quickly so she could escape. The rest? She’d allow herself to enjoy the rest. The moment of silence stretched out into the dark night like a silvery thread.

And then, the thread snapped.

Lunging into action, Zofia threw herself at the young hunter like a caged beast set free. The two went tumbling across the ground before she threw all her weight on top of him, pinning them down. “Gotcha,” She purred, sounding all too pleased with herself. Reaching into their pocket, she fished out a stake first, clicking her tongue. “You won’t be needing this, kochanie.” She threw it far out of his reach before pulling out a blade and resting it against the pretty vein in his neck that fluttered as his heartbeat rose in panic.

Wait-

The vampire’s eyes darted up and her gaze locked on a stranger. Her lip curled up in a snarl, trying to assess whether or not this was going to become a more complicated fight than she’d anticipated. “You had better give me good reason to keep him breathing, and quickly.”

With the knife already kissing the man's neck, their chances of getting what they came for dwindled rapidly. They didn't know her, they'd never seen her before, so what was the perfect combination of words to get her to stand down? Or the perfect combination to ruin it all by spreading his blood across the ground.

Dīs supposed that honesty was the best policy, at least in this instance. They could keep details close to their chest, but maybe a tale of woe and loss was enough to sway her mind otherwise. Their golden eyes showed vividly in the dark, their travel from knife to her face evident. Yes they were scared that this could be it. Who knew when they'd get another whiff of retribution?

The lampade held up both hands, choosing to remain at their spot instead of encroaching further. “He knows someone who was involved in my.. family's death. I need answers.” They nodded to the hunter. “You can kill him after, I don't care.”

Desperate hands scratched and closed at the arm she had pressed into them, holding them in place. It was tiresome.

They said not to kill them yet. They hadn’t said not to hurt them.

An agonized yowl echoed out as Zofia drove her blade into the hunters hand, being careful to avoid touching their blood. Then she noticed the eyes.

She wasn’t sure what they were, exactly. Only that they were likely fae, given the fact that they smelled sweet as honey. Zofia would have contemplated trying to get a taste if she’d been in any other situation. But the fact that they weren’t human meant they likely weren’t looking to give her friend a helping hand.

Studying the stranger with glowing eyes, she threw more of her weight into keeping the hunter pinned down. “They take from everyone.” Her voice was dull despite the rage that lit her eyes. “Get your answers. I’ll see to it he gives them.” Zofia twisted the blade further into the back of the hunter's hand, a grim sort of satisfaction curling up in the chest at the cries.

A grimace found their face at the piercing wail that escaped once the knife plunged into tender flesh. The hand was already sensitive enough when cut by accident, they couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be stabbed through the palm. But they could sort of feel it in the hunter’s yell — was he too loud? Would someone hear? Perhaps, but Dīs could disappear in a snap if their gaze failed them. It hasn’t yet, but they didn’t know what kind of crowd this ruckus would draw.

They take from everyone.

This was not the time to ask her of her own history, but they’d be lying if they said they weren’t at least a little curious. There wasn’t much there in her expression, but the way her eyes seemed to blaze with that statement, perhaps even experience, told them that maybe she wanted to make them feel what she did. She had revenge in her sights; they could respect that. But they didn’t have a lot of time to waste, though, judging by the quickness in the way she stabbed him.

Dīs’ attention faltered from the viscous woman to the man pinned beneath her, writhing and in pain thanks to the piece of metal between his metacarpals. They tilted their head just slightly, just enough so that their eye lines would match up despite his prone position on the ground. He was scared, but he still looked angry, like the wrong move could be the end for either one of them. They didn’t intend on dying that night, so they needed to make sure to keep their questions short and to the point. That should be easy. They had a name — they just needed the location.

“Your cousin. Michel — where is he? His home is empty but I know you know where he is.”

Zofia didn’t particularly care what the stranger thought of her methods of keeping the hunter incapacitated. So long as they were on the same side. Red eyes flickered up to strange glowing ones as she waited for him to begin his interrogation.

The man beneath her writhed and wriggled, looking for freedom if he could just get himself free. But the vampire kept him down to the best of her ability. “Why the fuck would I tell you wear he is?” The hunter spat, his gaze flickering to the stranger keeping watch from a distance, and the vampire who loomed over him. “I’m not telling you anything, jackass.”

Zofia clucked her tongue, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Wrong answer, kochanie.” She pulled the knife from the back of the man’s hand and repeated the process on his other one. She could feel the burn as some of his blood splashed against her hand. She twisted the knife, and ignored the pain. Glancing over her shoulder, she jerked her chin to beckon the stranger closer. “Come, come. I won’t bite you right now, I’m a bit preoccupied. It would be better if you asked your questions up close, to see if he’s lying. No?”

That was an expected reaction. An annoying one, and a complete waste of time as they all tended to give up in the end anyway — but it was expected all the same. What they didn’t expect, but probably should have, were the red eyes. Vampire. They would have guessed ‘mare’ had it not been for the preternatural display of strength. Of course she had to be a vampire. Dīs felt a weight in their stomach, like a brick falling to the sea floor; their last meeting with one ended poorly and with two new scars for their neck.

She hit him again, this time on the other hand, repeating the process and eliciting another pained cry. They would have gone slow with it, quiet, as if they weren’t even there, but she had the reigns. She was the one in charge. They just hoped the curious kept to themselves that night.

That was when she beckoned Dīs closer. A horrible idea, in their opinion, but did they have any other option? She could get tired of their hesitation and end it all then and there; she seemed the type to not waste any time. The lampade clenched their jaw. They would have to be ready if she turned on them, once she was done with the prey. If she turned on them, but her comment about not biting them right now didn’t exactly give them a lot of confidence that she wouldn’t.

Suddenly feeling like they were stuck between a rock and a hard place, they obliged and drew nearer to the vampire and wriggling man. Stubbornness could be a hard nut to crack, but they were keen to get an answer one way or another. The lampade stood beside them now and dropped slowly to one knee with their eyes fixed on the man’s twisted expression. Pain was a useful tool, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. Dīs had a pleasure in messing with the mind. Humans, and many creatures, had an innate fear of the dark — of the unknown within. Paired with their ability to almost melt the reasoning and reality in their brains, even for only a few moments, was paramount to the lampade’s success. They supposed a knife just wasn’t going to cut it this time.

“Look at me,” the nymph commanded, and when he didn’t and still refused, a darkened hand jumped up to grab the sides of his face and forced his attention on them. “I said look at me,” the yellow glow in their eyes grew with intensity, overtaking the entirety of their sclera, and the shadows of their face changed and writhed, like paint bleeding in from the edge of damp paper. “Where is he?” The hunter’s eyes were now fixed on the endless light that radiated from Dīs’ skull. Michel had been gone for some time now; the driveway was empty, but his neighbors say he didn’t move. So where was he?

They seemed hesitant.

It shouldn’t have surprised Zofia, especially since she’d launched herself at the hunter like she’d never get the chance again. She rolled her eyes, jerking her chin again. “You have my word. You’re not on my agenda tonight. I might not look like it, but I can show restraint.”

As her new partner in crime approached, she removed the blade from the man’s other hand, and brought it back to rest on the column of his throat. If he got any clever ideas, it would just end that much quicker for him. She assumed that whatever magical madness the fae had at their disposal, they’d be far more useful at getting answers from a stubborn ass hunter. Hunters were likely accustomed to pain. They could suffer their way through a few encounters with a blade.

She was concerned for a moment that her mind was beginning to play tricks on her again when a shadowy hand shot out and grabbed hold of the man’s face. Whatever kind of fae this was, she was fairly certain she hadn’t encountered them before. She could see the glow of their eyes reflected on the hunter’s horrified face, and decided it would be for the best that she averted her gaze for the time being.

“I don’t know!” The hunter yelped, their eyes darting about on the strangers changing features. “I-I-I saw him the other day! The other day at the Three Daggers! I did, I swear- The Three Daggers- it’s a bar! It’s a bar in Gatlin Fields! Said he was busy working over-” His eyes widened, realizing he was saying too much.

Zofia frowned. “Keep singing, skowronek. It will be better for you if you do.”

You have my word.

On what, exactly? On not being on her agenda? On not biting them right then? Or was it her word in general? Their body buzzed with the thought of the number of possibilities. Dīs hummed, as if contemplating her motion for belief. “Alright,” they agreed with a small nod, conceding to her persuasive words. “I have your word.” They fought back the smile that threatened to break through their placid expression, instead focusing that energy on the human.

That giddy feeling continued as the hunter finally spilled forth the start of the truth they so desperately were looking for. Every lead led to the possibility of finding peace. The Three Daggers — they knew of the place, but they would be stupid to step through that threshold. That was a hunter bar, a death sentence. Despite the feeling of mental capacity melting, Dīs held on to the man’s mind, grateful for the vampire’s goad and threat for more violence.

Unfortunately for them, maybe not so much for her, their hold was, perhaps, a little too strong. Or maybe they’d had him in their sights too long. Whatever the case, incoherency filled the young hunter’s head, enabling a string of babbling and wide eyes filled with fear and emptiness. He started to thrash against the vampire, ignoring the pain in his hands; too busy with the paranoia and madness that took over.

“Damn it,” the lampade growled in frustration but stood back, being sure to keep their distance so the human could be dealt with by the one holding the knife. They’d done enough already. The madness itself might not last, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. They wasted the opportunity. “Kill him, then.. This,” they gestured to his state, “won’t last forever but he’s useless now.” The Three Daggers was going to have to be enough.

Zofia hadn’t really thought about the words leaving her mouth and who she was saying them to. After all, in that moment they were on the same side. They had both lost to the hands of men like the one beneath her blade. But when she heard them echoed back to her, she realized she may have made a mistake. She swore under her breath, and shrugged. No helping the matter now. She’d deal with whatever the consequences were later.

Then, something changed. She wasn’t sure what had happened, exactly. Whatever the slayer saw on the stranger’s face, it seemed to be too much for his mind to handle. Zofia had gone from having him relatively well pinned down, to struggling to keep the raving lunatic from hitting her as he thrashed about. She hissed as his bloody palm smacked into her arm, her skin burning at the contact.

“So much for a slow death.” Zofia grumbled, moving the blade down to the man’s chest before pressing it down into his heart. “For the other’s you’ve undoubtedly done the same to.” She muttered into the madman’s ear as he gasped at the sudden shock, clarity filling his eyes for one final moment. It wouldn’t be long now. She pulled her blade free, and stood up, watching him as the madness faded as the slayer slowly slipped away.

“Did you at least get some information to help you?” The vampire asked, not sure if she should look up at the stranger. Given the fate of the slayer, it might not be the best idea. She kept her gaze down, eyes locked on the evidence that she was one step closer to being safe again.

Slips ups were easy; they wouldn’t hold that against her. But they would have to think about what she might be able to help them with. She did help with the hunter, a happy accident unplanned by either party, but still somewhat lucrative in the end. The favor wouldn’t be terrible, not when she was willing to hear them out and wait. Just like they’d asked. They’d make sure to thank her in some way.

Dīs watched the blade go in, the sudden impact of pain and dread of death when the blade pierced flesh, meat and bone to reach the heart was striking in comparison to the madness that had just previously taken over. They saw the clarity, yes, and wondered what it was he could be thinking. Did he know he had lost all sense of mental stability? Was he still present but unable to stop it? Or had he been truly gone until his life was snuffed out? Ignorance or immobility?

The glow from their eyes eased up and the shadows on their face slithered back to where they came from. Pupils found their way back to the forefront and two irises reformed, containing the glinting gold within those shapes. They sighed, frustrated but at least they had something.

“I should.. apologize for that.” They rested their hands on their hips. “I didn’t expect him to break that quickly.” An exhale escaped them. “Somewhat. At least I know he is still in town. That gives me hope I will find him.” Dīs looked over the blood that coated the knife and the man that now laid dead. “Are you satisfied?”

She could see the glow recede in her periphery. She assumed whatever magic the fae had been wielding, it had been reversed. And she had to assume that a creature that she now owed gods only knew what to wouldn’t be so quick to see her meet a similar fate to the now motionless slayer.

She looked up at them, curious. They looked normal enough now. It was always the unassuming looking ones, wasn’t it…

“No need.” She said, trying to rub the hunter's blood from where it burned her arm. She hissed in pain at the contact. She’d need to clean that off sooner rather than later. “I’m not. He was not the strongest of his little coterie.” Zofia wiped the knife on the dead slayer’s jacket before stowing the blade away in her pocket once again.

Satisfied. She let out a puff of air that might have been considered a laugh if she could bring her face to form a smile. “He went quicker than I would have liked.” She shrugged. “But I’m better now that one more is gone.” Zofia frowned. “I am sorry for what his friend took from you. I know that pain.”

They noted her discomfort towards the blood on her arm, the way she buffed it away and how her skin burned from the contact. They’ll have to remember that for a rainy day. Their eyes narrowed just slightly when they recalled the handkerchief they kept in their coat. It was stained with their own blood, but maybe it would be of use to her.

“Do you need something for that?” It was the least they could do, and if not, it was no bother to them. At least the kindness was offered.

“How many more of them are there left?” The passing thought of perhaps there could be another connection lingered a little too long; did they really want to get involved? This one already led them to the notorious hunter bar in town, how much further did it go? Her return of kindness softened the hard expression on Dīs’ face. They nodded. “... I appreciate that.. I just wish I knew why. What was their purpose for—”

The lampade stopped themself. Now was not the time. “Your help was very much appreciated,” they might not have been able to do it without her, truthfully, but they wouldn’t admit that out loud. “I bid you good luck with the others,” they nodded towards the dead. A thought crossed over them suddenly. “What is your name? If we were to cross paths again, I’d like to know what to call you..”

It was highly likely that they would, either for the human hunt or the promise itself.

“To wash it off.” She said honestly. “It will be fine. It won’t take very long to heal.” Zofia could deal with the sting. It didn’t hurt that bad now that she’d gotten the majority off.

She shrugged at the question. “I’d tell you if I could trust I knew the answer for certain.” She couldn’t be sure that her mind hadn’t conjured up new faces in addition to the ones from her past. “One main one. A few lackeys. They won’t look for you- as long as you don’t have any ties to my dear friend here.” She nodded to the body.

“They prefer my kind.” They preferred her clan. Her kin. They likely wouldn’t think twice about some random fae, and would let another hunter deal with it. “Hunters in general, or this one?” Zofia asked, her lip curling in distaste. “This one wanted me. And what’s left of my family, if anyone remains.” She explained. “On the whole…”

The vampire sighed, considering the answer. What was the purpose? “To protect their kind from the other, I suppose.” It was the only explanation she could think of that made any sense. Otherwise it was just all for the sake of the hunt.

“Nie ma za co.” She shook her head. “And it isn’t yours to keep. But you can call me Zofia. What can I call you?”

“Alright, fair enough,” they returned with concession, though they were thankful their impromptu interrogation was coming to a close. They wanted to go home and to think about how they could get to Michel. They didn’t exactly know many who would be willing to go into the Three Daggers, at least, none that wouldn’t ping at least one hunter’s attention. No, this needed some thought.

“I’m not too worried about myself..” They should be. It was foolish not to, but they thought back to Inge. This was a dangerous place to live; their heart ached for the life they used to have, one filled with silence and darkness. The surface was too bright and full of danger. There wasn’t enough death, either, despite the walking corpses that surrounded them, that called them friends. “No, no, I had meant.. It’s nothing. Perhaps for another time. I hope there are still some of your clan left.” That was the truth. They knew what it was like to be the last one. At least, presumably.

“As we’re doing. It seems pointless.” Dīs couldn’t help the smile at her assumption. “Don’t worry, I won’t take it. It is beautiful, though. Dīs, I own the Elysium in Worm’s row — if you care to stop by.”

What must it be like, she wondered, to not have to worry about herself. To not have to look over her shoulder, constantly anticipating to look back and see someone poised to strike with a stake behind her. She envied the fae stranger in that regard.

A bitter laugh escaped the vampire's lips and hung in the night air. “I hope that you’re right.” Zofia sighed. “I hope that you are.” But she doubted she’d ever see any of them again. She was quite certain they’d all returned to ash at that point.

“That’s very kind of you.” She nodded in gratitude for the compliment. “I haven’t used it in so very long. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dīs.” Zofia hummed in contemplation. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure. I’ll have to stop by.”

Her gaze caught on the still hunter on the ground. “I don’t suppose the fae have any interesting ways of disposing of things like these?”

There was no real hope that anyone would be still left alive, but Zofia’s clan at least had the better chance. If any of theirs survived, that would be a miracle. They didn’t have much hope for them.

“Well, it suits you. It should stay around for a little while,” they suggested, slightly playfully now that the high energy of the interrogation died down. Though, they were still out in the open, despite the cover of night. The loitering couldn’t continue.

“The pleasure’s mine, despite,” Dīs looked to the same body she regarded and questioned. “Not myself, no. But I know of a few who will have use for it. I’ll take it.” It was unfortunate they couldn’t make other things turn to shadow, inanimate objects or even people, but to bathe it in so much darkness prying eyes would have a hard time making out was the next best thing.

With the body now in their possession (it would be so much easier if they were thirteen feet tall), they gave Zofia a parting bow of their head. “Until next time,” they expressed, meaning it, and knowing that they will indeed see each other again. Either in casual conversation or to cash in on that promise.

“I think it means wisdom,” she said softly. The danger had passed, her focus drifting with it. She wondered how long it would be before her mind began playing tricks on her again. Zofia shook her head. “Not entirely sure it fits.” Three hundred years and she still wasn’t certain if she could be considered wise.

She wondered just who this person knew that would have use for a dead hunter. It was probably best if she didn’t question it. Asking more questions would most likely ask for more trouble, and she had more than her fair share of trouble. “Then he’s all yours.” Zofia sighed looking down at the body. “Tak długo, suko.” She spat at the dead hunter.

She watched as they nodded their head in acknowledgement, and she tipped hers in return, the bloodstained vampire dipping into a slight curtsy. “Until then, Dīs.” She turned and disappeared back into the night. Until then.

#thread #tr; zofia k #thread; teamwork makes the interrogation work

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libellule-ao3 · 1 year

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Life Links

6. Tulip Karasu / Rules

Summary: Tulip Karasu and Charlie Weasley are caught by Death Eaters in Hogsmeade.

Chapter Index - previous chapter (Badeea Ali) - next chapter (Jacob Thorn)

Surprised in Hogsmeade by a patrol of Death Eaters reeking of rotten flobberworms, Charlie and Tulip defend themselves as best they can against an enemy that outnumbers them. A rain of curses rains down on them without let-up. A wizard seasoned by his work with dragons, Charlie builds protective shields, slipping a counterattack at every opening.

Her black eyes bulging with terror, Tulip Karasu struggles to stand beside her comrade. The hand that holds her wand trembles, an icy sweat oozing from the pores of her skin. Panic grips her beating heart. She feels powerless. Worse, she is a liability to her friend, who is trying to protect her.

In her defence, Tulip is just a shopkeeper. She only came to provide some logistics and to convince others to fight. She did not foresee having to battle for her life after she completed her mission. For a moment, the witch considers surrendering, hoping for leniency from their enemies.

A killing curse pierces their magic shield, misses its target, and passes over her head. At that moment, Tulip realises that these are ruthless killers, without the slightest scruple. Her soul shudders at the Death that follows these sorcerers like a shadow. Her throat knots and her whole body stiffens. She also loses her breath, which, in retrospect, is not bad considering the stench they give off. But worst of all, her eyes water at her pitiful weakness.

So, while her friend gets all the attention of the Death Eaters, his wand spitting spells like an angry dragon unleashing fire, Tulip finds refuge behind a barrel in a cobbled alley, crossing the primary avenue of Hogsmeade.

The dark wizards have turned the village into a no-go zone for magical teleportation. For the time being, the duo must rely on their legs, skill, and nerve to get out before they disappear.

With excellent reflexes and exceptional physical condition, Charlie doesn’t let the numerical superiority get him down. However, at one against ten, his chances of getting out alive are very low. Running along a wall to avoid being caught off guard, he confronts the enemy with a coolness that compels admiration. It takes a lot of nerve to live among dragons, unpredictable and ferocious creatures.

Paralysed, Tulip can not help him. A shopkeeper in Trick or Treat doesn’t need to know how to fight. She doesn’t need to be as brave as Tonks, her best friend and a skilled Auror. She doesn’t have to be as oblivious as Kettelburn, who thinks he can stop an angry erumpent's charge by putting his hand in front of it or... fight off those pesky Death Eaters with a bucket of rotten flobberworms. True, fanged frisbees can decapitate the unwary customer. But they have no warlike intent, and an immobilisation spell is enough to neutralise them. Unlike these dark mages, thirsty for blood and tears.

“Psst.”

A hissing sound calls out to her. She turns her head left, right. Her panicked gaze turns behind her. A few feet away, a door has opened, revealing Madam Rosmerta, the owner of the “Three Broomsticks”. Hope springs up in her beating heart. Tulip could discreetly leave these Death Eaters infested places by the roofs? Thus, Tulip could survive!

Charlie continues to fight like hell, trying to move the combat zone to the exit of the village. There is no time to lose. Tulip can run away while he keeps them busy. It’s the perfect opportunity, in fact.

Tulip has always prided herself on breaking the rules, but today the redhead takes no pride in breaking the basic rules of friendship. But who cares about rules when it comes to survival?

So then, stealthier than a shadow and without another glance for the companion she reluctantly abandons, Tulip rushes through the breach that is offered to her.

“Forgive me, Charlie Weasley... We'll do better separately,”

#hphm #hphm fic #tulip karasu #Circle of Khanna #battle of hogwarts #LL fic #harry potter hogwarts mystery #Esl writer

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theunavenged · 1 year

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A Mother's Struggle

The first fic I published on AO3! Re-sharing in honor of Mother's Day 💕 This started as a headcanon of mine (i.e. Jason only turned to thievery after his mom got into trouble with loan sharks) then evolved into a short story exploring my beloved Catherine's relationship with young Jason and her struggle with addiction.

Read on AO3 (please comment & kudos if you enjoy!)

Catherine held the burning cigarette between two trembling fingers, shaking free bits of ash onto the table below. The word was out: Willis was dead. The bastard left her with nothing but his gambling debts, and now the sharks were circling. Two of her late husband’s associates were standing in her kitchen, their appetites whetted for either cash or blood.

She looked up at the men, trying her best to hold back both tears and vomit. “I’ll get your money, I swear. I just need more time. Please.”

Vinny, the elder of the pair—a short man with a greasy black ponytail and a leathery face made for scowls—lunged forward and gripped the table with both hands, causing Catherine to jump back with a gasp and nearly spill from her chair.

“Do we look like we represent a charitable organization, lady?” he snarled, his upper lip curling to reveal crooked, nicotine-stained teeth. “We ain’t in the habit of offering leniency to junkies and degenerates.”

“Look around,” Catherine said, waving her hand at the dilapidated apartment. “I’ve got nothing to give you.”

She and Willis were never well-off but there was a time when this little apartment of theirs had a touch of class. She decorated it herself, kept it spotless—she desperately wanted her Willis to be happy and proud. She was a naive child back then, still wrapped up in a schoolgirl’s fantasy of having a “gangster” as a husband. But over the years their apartment’s upscale facade chipped away, much like that of their marriage. Now the home they had once shared was run-down and filthy. The plaster walls were full of cracks and yellowing from the years of cigarette smoke. The hardwood floors were covered in scuffs, scratches, and layers of grime. Rats and roaches brazenly scurried about from their holes in the woodwork. Most of the furniture and decor had been sold off to pay bills… or to feed her addictions.

“Please, you have to understand,” Catherine pleaded, her voice faltering now. “Willis left me with nothing. Not a dime. I'm a single mom with a kid to feed. Please give me a break.”

Vinny suddenly lunged at her again, grabbing her by the wrist. Catherine yelped as he yanked up her arm and ripped back her sleeve. The inside of her elbow was dotted with needle holes, marking her attempts to escape the pain of the present and return to those happier days when a well-kept apartment was her only concern.

“A kid to feed, huh?” Vinny scoffed. “Looks to me like you’re shooting most of his meals into your arm.”

Vinny’s partner laughed, and Catherine’s eyes darted toward the second man who hung back behind Vinny with his arms crossed against his chest. She didn’t recognize the tall, 30-something man, but those hawk-like features and twinkling, dark eyes of his sent a chill racing down her spine. Vinny had a reputation for his hot temper, but this other man with his calm demeanor and evident amusement for her situation seemed far more dangerous.

Catherine swallowed hard, hoping to hide some of her fear from these animals, but when she spoke her voice was a frightened squeak. “I’m gonna stay clean from now on, I swear. I’ll… I’ll go back to work. Whatever it takes. I’ll have your money soon, just please don’t hurt me.”

“Mom?” a small voice asked warily.

Catherine's heart leapt into her throat and she let out a strangled cry. Vinny dropped her arm, and both men spun around to face the interruption. Behind them stood a 10-year-old boy, hands stuffed into the pockets of worn, school-issued khakis, suspiciously eying the strangers. There was no hope in holding back her tears now, which trickled down her cheeks at the sight of her son. Why? Why did he have to come home now of all times? She slid out of her seat at the table and pushed past Vinny, hurrying toward her son. The scrawny boy, with his mop of black hair and icy blue eyes, was a shadow of his late father. Even his casual stance and mistrustful frown reminded her of the man she once loved. Catherine kneeled in front of the boy. She pushed a curl behind his ear and forced herself to smile at him, but the boy glared through her, his eyes still fixed on the two men.

“Jason, sweetheart,” Catherine spoke tenderly. She took her son's face in her hands—how drawn it had become over the past year, how little of his darling “baby fat” now remained—and gently turned it toward her own. When his eyes finally met hers and she saw the anger burning behind them, a shiver went through her. She tried to keep her voice steady, despite the fear and nausea and guilt and wistfulness all weighing down on her at once. “Why don’t you go outside and play until your father’s friends leave, okay?”

“Yeah kid. Listen to your mom and beat it,” the tall man seconded in a sinister tone as dark and cold as his eyes.

But Catherine knew that Jason wouldn’t listen. He never listened, at least not when it came to protecting her. Her son knew exactly who these men were, why they were there, and what they were after. Jason was a smart kid—he had to be. You grew up fast when you were thrust into this pitiful life of his. With a two-bit criminal father who preferred the company of his “whores” to his family, and a drug-addicted mother who was too weak to cope with losing the affections of her first love, Jason was forced to step up and take over the responsibility of providing for his family. A child, who should be spending his summers playing baseball or video games, was instead out on the crime-ridden streets of Gotham City begging for food and money so that he and his pathetic excuse for a mother wouldn’t starve to death. Catherine had to straighten up for Jason’s sake. Willis was gone for good this time, and her sweet son needed a mother more than ever now.

Jason glanced from Catherine to the tall man and back. Catherine stroked her son’s hair once more and tried to hold onto his gaze with a reassuring smile but she felt her lips start to quiver. Please Jason, just this once, she begged him silently. Let me take care of myself. But her fearlessly stubborn son would never turn his back on her, even in the face of danger—especially in the face of danger. Jason’s face darkened as he narrowed his eyes at the tall man and said: “Get out of my apartment.”

Catherine shrunk away helplessly, sitting back onto her calves, her shoulders slumped. Her worst fear was realized; they would hurt him for this. She squeezed her eyes shut but the tears still leaked out. “Jason…” she whimpered under her breath.

Read the rest on AO3→

#jason todd #catherine todd #kid jason #crime alley #relationships #fanfic #bubs writes fic about jpt #mine

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tantalizingtopi · 5 months

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Forgiveness

The Dark Urge

Word Count: 639

Disclaimer: characters belong to Larian studios and Baldur’s Gate 3

The Dark Urge ponders forgiveness whilst slaying their business partner’s competition. Durgetash implied a tiny bit, but not much. This takes place pre-tadpole and early on in their partnership.

Forgiveness. Very rarely have I had the need to extend this to others, yet I find myself contemplating the theme more and more in recent days. As the leader of the temple, I must balance forgiveness with punishment, and carry out father’s orders as well as cull too much knowledge of the existence of us outside of our circle. Small whispers and rumblings have always existed, but they must never be more than that. We are too small at this time and with the right force could be swept into the abyss again.

Sarevok. He has spent the last years lollygagging, spinning his daughters around for his own amusement, enjoying the lavish praise they give him. Helena is gone now, a trophy in Orin’s quarters, but Orin remains, her devotion to Sarevok despicable. For his part, his neediness to maintain some semblance of power further disgraces himself and by extension, father. His only redeeming quality is his willingness to defer to my judgment and respect my position.

Orin is a puerile nuisance, her open displays of mutilation lack foresight and will put us in jeopardy if she does not contain herself. I send her away as often as I can to commit acts in Bhaal’s name, and so far my sibling has not strayed from my direction, although she is vocal about it. She relishes in the maiming and the flesh, the romanticism of the aftermath, not in the act of killing— the murder itself. Still, I try to remember leniency and allow her to indulge within reason.

Sceleritas Fel, my devoted butler. He does not receive forgiveness, he does not deserve forgiveness. He exists only to serve and please me and by extension my father. He revives anew despite my killing him many times over. He sates my knife hand and my urges when I must exercise restraint for the greater purpose. He is, however, an annoying windbag and I often must slip away in order to conduct business. A quick few slashes and he is incapacitated for a time, which is infinitely helpful.

But what about myself? I am not sure I deserve the same leniency as I give Orin, the same grace I extend to Sarevok. I am born from Bhaal and Bhaal alone, yet I struggle. Father will show his displeasure if I resist the depraved urges he bestows on me, and sometimes I will no longer inhabit my own body, killing without any recollection of the event. Sometimes he will visit me in my sleep, torturing me in my dreams if I have not fulfilled his desire. I do not always relish in a kill, sometimes guilt will take me just as much as these compulsions. It has always been like this, this occasional pain where only pleasure should exist. I wish to put voice to this, to ask if it is the same for others. But to speak aloud would be a sin most condemning. I cannot falter, as without my father’s blessing, I would not exist. I must obey him, to the best of my ability.

I finish cutting down the three men, leaving them to drown in the shallows. Smugglers for the Knights of the Shield, these three in particular had a nasty habit of being too rough with the women they paid for. I watch them flail, a grin playing on my features. There is something, particularly satisfying, about watching someone drown. Especially in water that they could easily get out of, if they still had the ability to.

When they stop moving, I wipe their blood from my blade on my dark cloth pants, the waves of pleasure in witness their peril that I feel is akin to a devout experience and I know my father is pleased with my sacrifice tonight. Perhaps I didn’t need forgiveness after all.

#fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 dark urge #bg3 durge #dark urge #durgetash #bg3 bhaalspawn #just bhaalspawn things #durgetash beginnings #durge #bhaal #forgiveness #murder hobos

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snowbellewells · 2 years

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Happy Birthday Krystal!!!: An EF AU Birthday Fic

This fic is a birthday gift for @kmomof4 who deserves all the gifts and flails, love and hugs possible for this fandom to give!! I am so blessed to know her and be in the same fandom as she is. I hope she’ll enjoy this story (it grew from a drabble I wrote ages ago for a hiatus prompt, and if memory serves, Krystal wanted me to continue). There will be one more part, soon I hope.

Enchanted Forest AU with Princess Emma and Pirate Killian (though not in quite the same way he became one in canon....)

***Also available on AO3 if you prefer***

“The Weight of the Crown (is a Feather on the Waves)”

by: @snowbellewells

“Emma! – That is, your Highness! You cannot be serious! The law clearly states…” but it is here that her disgruntled and rapidly nearing insubordinate advisor, Sir Sydney trails off at the cool, quelling look she cuts him with her sharp jade eyes.

Her Royal Highness Emma Swan, her parents’ only heir and now Queen of Misthaven after their loss mere months ago, is tired of all these sycophants – people surrounding her who may have truly loved and respected her parents, but have none of that trust in her, and think that at barely eighteen she can be easily swayed to their way of seeing things. She has no use for their simpering, their seeming obeisance barely hiding their disapproval any time she takes a step beyond what they deem proper. The intrigues of court and the careful diplomacy needed to navigate it had always made her uncomfortable. Now, though, she has no choice; she must try to take the reins in her parents’ stead and do her best to live up to their legacy, like it or not. But she doesn’t trust the lot of them, any more than they trust her it seems. Especially not with this…

They had brought him before her hours ago now, shackled and tugged between two heavily breathing guards, attesting to just what a struggle he had given them in getting that far. A concerning trickle of blood had run from his hairline, showing they had been none too gentle in accosting him as it was. Still, he stood tall as he was pulled to a stop before her throne - a single one rather than the joined pair on the dais which had always beautifully represented her parents’ partnership in rule, and in all things. How she wished she had a partner to lean on now. When his dark hair was gripped roughly to jerk his head up to meet her gaze, those fathomless blue eyes had caught Emma’s, just as they always had, and she knew that even now he had lost none of the pride and honor he had always possessed. Though so much time had passed since she had seen that clear-eyed look every day and thought he might be that companion.

Breaking unbidden into her thoughts, Lady Bleu, a former nun who came to their court from France after some intrigue which Emma had never been made privy to, speaks up next. Once the governess who had ruled Emma’s nursery with an iron fist and shooed away the kinder maids like Ashley and Nova who would have played with her and been entertaining, affectionate friends, Bleu lays a cool hand on Emma’s wrist, where it sits tensely on the armrest of her throne, and it is all Emma can do not to shrug her off. The woman had been a close confidante of her late mother’s, but Emma has never felt at ease with having the woman foisted on her from birth. Even as a monarch in her own right, the sanctimonious matron is always at her elbow offering advice Emma does not want. “All Sir Sydney means,” Lady Bleu offers in a tone intended to be soothing and placating, but which sets Emma’s teeth on edge and makes her skin crawl, “is that the law is adamant when it comes to piracy of any kind. I know that you suggest a fine and the stripping of both naval title and benefits in a spirit of mercy and remembrance of childhood friendship, nothing more, but leniency here could be read as fatal frailty, and in this time of upheaval, we cannot allow others to think us weak; it will lead to more unrest and worse crimes.”

It is all Emma can do not to roll her eyes so far back in her head that the entire court can see her frustration. Biting the inside of her cheek until she can taste blood, Emma forces herself not to respond until she can say something that is not a direct insult to her elders. “Still, no one was harmed. Nothing of any value was taken,” she reasons, trying to sound as if she is not half as emotionally invested as she is in truth, but merely attempting to be a fair and honorable judge. “It would seem to me that a more thorough investigation – “

“What does it matter if he did anything this time?” her “Uncle Grumpy”, another dear friend of her mother’s who had never quite warmed to Emma in the same way he had to the woman who had borne her, interjects. “We have him in our grasp now. He has certainly done enough in his previous raids to warrant the standard punishment. The man is a brigand, a blackguard…and his death will mean one less pirate to worry about prowling our waters and attacking our shores.”

Emma’s cheeks flush with the high emotion of distress which she must hide. The mere thought of his booted feet dangling in air as the life leaves his body, his neck caught in the hangman’s noose – and at her behest – almost more than she can bear. It is too much, too much to ask of her in royal obligation. But she blinks the panic away, pulling the calm, regal mask she wears in public down over her face. She must play this next part convincingly for him to have a chance at survival, and therefore for her own heart to keep beating unscathed. A plan is hatching in her mind, but she gives no indication of her racing thoughts. Lowering her eyes demurely, Emma feigns exhausted acquiescence and devotion to duty, nodding shortly as if she finally accepts their wise guidance. They have been debating the matter since high noon when he was brought before her in chains, dragged down the aisle to her throne and forced to his knees at her feet by her personal guard – young men he had once played at sword fighting with long ago when they were all younger, they pages and he a stable boy.

“Very well,” she murmurs quietly but clearly, making sure that those assembled hear every word. All depends on them believing in her resolve at this juncture; none can suspect what she truly intends. “It will be as you say. His sentence is to be carried out at dawn, according to the letter of our law. Now, leave me.” The last is utterly firmly, brooking no further discussion, and wisely none of those assembled dares speak to her again.

Shaking their heads and murmuring to themselves about why there should have been any question, her various councilors and advisors file from the room, overall seeming pleased that their young regent has finally seen the sense in their words. Emma is alone in the large throne room at last. Turning her eyes heavenward, where she trusts her parents – more fit rulers than she had ever hoped to be – will understand. “I am sorry,” she whispers brokenly before she steels her spine and determination overtakes over her form as she adds, “but please give me strength.”

************* ************** ************

It is in the true dark watch of the night that Queen Emma, feeling very small and like the orphaned, often uncertain princess she truly is, slips undetected from her opulent bedchamber and through the castle she has lived in since birth, knowing exactly the path she must take to alert no one and remain unseen. Winding her way swiftly and silently down staircases and through empty halls, she finally makes her way to the dungeons without anyone being the wiser.

Quickly sending a burst of magic at the two guards posted in the entry of the dungeons, and another at the one who stands outside the condemned pirate’s cell, they never know what hit them and cannot tell anyone who questions them later. Her parents had always fearfully cautioned her to keep her magic secret, and so the secret had died with them; the only other person who had ever known of that part of her is the man she is here to save.

A pale beam of moonlight slants through the high window into his cell, half-illuminating his ruggedly handsome face and making his blue eyes sparkle where he reclines on the rude cot in the corner. At hearing her light, hurried footsteps, his head jerks up, and upon seeing her, he sucks in an audible gasp of breath. “Swan!” he exclaims in a shocked whisper. “You cannot be here, Lass!”

He is on his feet and standing at the front of his cell, mere inches from her now, where she has pulled to a sudden stop. It is closer than they have been in years - years that she had spent wondering where he was, if he was well, if he still lived and if he would ever return. His chest heaves with agitated breaths, and his right hand clutches the bars in a tight grip as he readies himself to argue with her further.

They have no time for that.

“You idiot!” she hisses back at him, not bothering with trying to swipe the keys from the ring on the guard’s belt, but instead waving her hand impatiently at the lock on the cell door, allowing it to swing open and him to rush forward and sweep her into his arms. “Where else would I be?” she finishes, her voice slightly muffled against his shoulder where he presses her close.

“You’ve decreed my death on the morn for piracy, your Majesty,” he reminds her wryly, the gentle way he smooths his strong hand over her soft hair and down her back belying the somewhat accusatory words. “Do you not think some might find you visiting me in the night and freeing me from my cell a bit scandalous?”

“Enough!” she orders, a bit of her royal upbringing creeping back into her tone. Her tone and bearing effectively cut him off, even as she clutches his hand in hers, gentling the harsh words with the action. She will drag him out after her if necessary, and they can argue about her recklessness and irresponsibility later… once he is safe.

However, Killian Jones – her friend, the man who somewhere along the way she secretly began to love, the man who had proudly served in her father’s Navy with his older brother, who had only turned pirate to pursue the crooked commander who had ordered his brother’s death and had evaded her father’s detection – does not budge. His hand pulls her back. “What are you thinking, Swan?” he asks, once more using his childhood nickname for her. “You cannot risk being implicated with me. Your country needs you, and I…I will not see you punished alongside me for my crimes.”

“What crimes?” she whispers, her lips trembling with emotion, but her voice managing to remain steady as she takes in his dear, handsome face. There is a scar high on his cheek, long healed but which has never seen before. Tentatively, she reaches up to brush her fingers over it, as if to soothe a pain which had long since faded, and he closes his eyes to savor her touch. “We both know you are not the criminal they all claim. You have encountered more honor among your crew of so-called thieves and pirates than you did among your commanding officers or I have among my own inner circle. If only my parents had died before we could prove it…”

“While that may be the truth, Love,” a bit of the rogue most believed him to be showing in his words and a small, sad smile tugging at one corner of his full lips, “I do not think most will see it that way. If you were hurt or shamed because of loyalty to me, that would wound me more than any punishment they could mete out.”

She turns, allowing herself a moment of weakness to mourn all that could have been, all that she will miss before turning to face him with firm resolve. “You should have thought about that before you returned. I will not see you hanged come morning – not when I am able to stop it.”

He swallows hard, some emotion Emma cannot quite fathom swimming in his deep blue gaze. “I had to come, Lass. You had just lost both your parents. When I received word…”

But Emma shakes her head, snapping back to the task at hand, knowing the time for them to work out everything else is when they are on his ship and safely away from here. “Not now, Killian. Trust me. I know what I am doing, and I deem it worth the risk. Just follow me. That is an order…from your Queen.”

A sardonic smile quirks one side of his mouth, but he does not argue with her again, nor hesitate any further, merely dips his head in a short nod and murmurs, “As you wish, Milady.”

Hand in hand they steal from her palace, leaving behind the birthright that she cannot stand to carry alone any longer, not if the price to keep it is the life of the only person who has ever truly known and understood her. When the large bells clang their distress signal with the dawn, alerting the castle and the surrounding city of the escaped prisoner and missing queen, they are already far out to sea in his ship – beyond hearing, beyond capture.

As the new day dawns sparkling on the ocean, Emma feels exhilarated by the rise and fall of each cresting wave. She is no longer Queen, but freer than she has ever been…and reunited with the man she loves. She has given up her crown but preserved her soul.

Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @apiratewhopines @jrob64 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @anmylica @sotangledupinit @donteattheappleshook @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @cosette141

#birthday ff #gift for @kmomof4 #cs Enchanted Forest au #the weight of the crown (is a feather on the waves)#princess emma #pirate killian

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