#and he's indifferent or hostile to everyone else

[ventresses]

I need a Rebels Modern AU that has Chopper as an orange cat & an absolute menace (a.k.a. typical orange cat)

[mrpenguinpants]

Look, but don't touch. [ Harbinger Edition ]

— You're the only one who's allowed to touch him. Likewise, he's the only one that's allowed to touch you.

— Childe, Pantalone, Scaramouche, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

Love Language Series | Touch [ Here ] | Actions | Time | Words | Gifts

This is written before the Sumeru quest. Harbingers are their own warning.

This was a fever dream, incredibly self-indulgent, don't talk to me about this ok. Honestly don't even wanna tag people in this (´。＿。｀)

Tartaglia

Childe is friendly but he always keeps himself at arm's distance from anyone who isn't his family. The kind of guy that acts like he loves everyone but he truly doesn't like anyone. Always polite but never kind. He won't be outwardly hostile if one of the cicin mages decides she wants to try her luck and cuddle up to him, he sort of admires her bravery, but the hardened stare and indifferent response are awkward enough for anyone to bail halfway.

So what a surprise to everyone when it's Childe himself that pulls you into him. It's not a friendly hug either, he quite literally drags you into his embrace as soon as he sees you, locks his arms around your waist, and spins you around. Before he catches himself and gently settles you down and pretends as if he didn't boldly announce to everyone that you're special.

He is a harbinger at the end of the day so any intimate relationships he has need to be hidden lest he puts you in danger. That said, he doesn't do a very good job. He gets agitated and fidgety if he can't hold you, longing gazes in your direction even if someone else is speaking to him about something important. Whether it's shooing specks of dust off your shoulder, a tap on the arm, or the brief brush of your fingers against his whenever he hands something to you. He always finds some way to touch you.

It's always the worst and best time to speak with Childe if you happen to be there. On the upside, Childe is more likely to give his approval to whatever his subordinates ask just so they go away and leave you both alone. On the downside, because physical touch somehow makes Childe drowsy and almost drunk, he's useless.

It wasn't always like this. During your first months as something more than friends, not quite lovers, he kept you at an arm's distance just like everyone else. Only the occasional arm over your shoulder or a hand on the small of your back, just enough to show you that you meant something to him. But over time, those touches began to linger until the dynamic shifted and he began to rely on your touches to keep him sated. On particularly stressful days, he'll pull you aside into his office with a rushed excuse to just hold you in his lap. He's recharging, don't make tease him.

But he's not a selfish lover. If you need comfort or just want to be held, he'll gladly throw his plans out the window just to spend time with you. What's wrong? Did someone upset you? Want me to take care of them? He'll offer anything to make you feel better while you're cuddled up to him and it makes his heart flutter when you say you just want to stay beside him. He has a bad habit of resting his entire weight on top of you if you're both ever lying down. All that muscle is heavy but sometimes it's comfortable until his elbow accidentally digs into your side.

Childe can be polite if someone else wants to touch him but he's baring his teeth at anyone that has the audacity to place their hands on you. If someone bumps into you? He's fine, accidents happen. Someone moves you to the side? Whatever he won't throw a fit over that. He believes in the below-the-shoulder, above-the-waist, hands not included, rule. If anyone touches you, it's the only time when Childe will throw his reputation out the window.

Scaramouche likes to compare him to a dog and he'll gladly growl and bark if that's what it takes for people to get the hint and leave you alone. He'll slide his arms around your waist, tilt your chin up, and without any concern about the scene that this will cause, kisses you deeply. All the while sending the nastiest glare to the person that touched you. Look, don't touch. You're his.

Childe likes to believe that he has self-restraint. He's a soldier first and foremost so he has discipline beaten into his bones. But right now he's close to snapping the pen in his hands and hurling it into that bastard's forehead. He can feel Ekaterina's concerned gaze on him, shifting on her feet nervously, as she struggles to push through her explanation of his assignment quickly. Unfortunately, it's all white noise to Childe as all of his attention is on the cicin mage whose being a bit too friendly for his liking.

"Lord Tartaglia?"

Of course, you don't blink twice at it. He's seen how that loud electro pirate dotes on you and is overly physically affectionate herself. Maybe he should also fight her as well after he's done dealing with this cicin mage.

"Childe?" Ekaterina tries one last time, using a more familiar name to see if that would catch her superior's attention but alas, he was too busy glaring daggers into her college. Ekaterina raises a hand to lightly tap on her superior's shoulder to get his attention but just as her fingertips brush against the fabric of his uniform, Childe's death glare is directed at her. She flinches away from the otherwise easy-going Childe, her mask doing little to hide her startled expression.

"Sorry, sorry, not meant for you," Childe blinks away the hate from his ocean eyes, coming to his senses as he runs a hand through his hair, "What were you saying?"

"There is no need to apologize, Lord Tartaglia, I overstepped," Ekaterina, bless her heart, waves off the sudden aggression but takes a step back. Before she can continue, she overhears you saying goodbye to the mage and your footsteps coming closer. A small surprised noise escapes your chest as Childe pulls you into his arms immediately. If she didn't know Childe, she could almost say his expression was a bit cute with how pouty he was being. Although the look in his eyes says otherwise now that she was just on the receiving end. This seems to be a common occurrence because you just giggle and hug him back just as tightly.

"Please don't harm her. She was just being nice," you mumble into his chest.

"I'll think about it," he says, his eyes never leaving the mage.

Pantalone

On the one hand, the banker always carries this prestige that makes most people stay away in awe. No one wants to get on the wrong side of the man who basically funds the country of Snezhnaya. On the other hand, Pantalone has an ethereal beauty that compels people to come closer and touch. To see if the porcelain skin is real, feel if he's muscular or lean under the heavy fabric, or sneak a peek at what colour the banker's eyes are. It makes you kind of giddy knowing that this man belongs to you. That you know the answer to all these speculations.

You aren't sure when it started happening but at some point, he always ends up sort of mindlessly touching him. Placing a hand on his arm or knee, running your fingers through his hair, or gently rubbing away the stress from his shoulders. There wasn't an ulterior motive, Pantalone was just too handsome that you can't help but touch him just to make sure he's real. He thought you were overexaggerating a bit but he seemed deeply pleased at your confession since it was coming from you personally. That egotistical bastard.

But he always reciprocated your touch. Offering an arm for you to hold onto, brushing the hair out of your face, or rubbing small circles into your hand. Small gestures of affection would occasionally lead to more. The fact that Pantalone of all people let you be this close was something you secretly prided in yourself. You couldn't help but rub his newfound privilege in front of anyone that got too close that this elegant man was yours to hold. Look all you want but you're the only one that gets to touch.

You weren't aware of Pantalone's level of aversion to touch until he almost caused a scene at a gathering. It was meant more for looks and reputation, the occasional business talk, but overall a lax evening. One of the ladies thought it would be a good gesture to place her hand against Pantalone's arm. A bit flirty but innocent enough that the sheer disdain that swirled in Pantalone's eyes made her flinch away surprised. He struck her hand away, the sound carrying through the now-silent ballroom as everyone turned to the sound. You were surprised as well that Pantalone of all people, the image of control and ever-smiling, lips turned down into a repulsed scowl. Your feet quickly moved over to him, quietly excusing the woman for her careless act, and ushering her away before anything escalated. No one spoke of that night.

Ever since then you've always kept your hands firmly glued to your sides lest you feel his anger. If you happened to brush against his finger you would splutter out apologies and scamper away. If you felt his hand hover near you, you always assumed you were in the way and quickly moved aside for him. Overall, you acted as if it was you that was uncomfortable with touch. With each passing day that you fled from his hand, the crease in Pantalone's frown grew deeper.

It comes to a head one night when you get to see how Pantalone's aversion to touch applies to you as well. Occasionally some wealthy noble will host a gala and as one of the Tsaritsa Harbingers, Pantalone will be required to be present for at least one of them. Given his status, most of the attendees flock over to him which leaves poor you to meander about and find something to do with the time. Despite being his lover, you're not privy to what goes on with his work and frankly, the business talk and parties bore you. At least these places have food.

He sees you conversing with a man he knows is from Liyue, hoping to find more investors and trade partners here in Snezhnaya. He's already spoken to the man and rejected his offer so that's most likely why he's speaking to you, the banker's partner to garner sympathy. Although from the looks of things, you don't seem that impressed either. You notice his stare, perhaps his expression betrays him because your eyes grow concerned before giving a polite bow and turning to walk away and to him. If that was all then perhaps tonight wouldn't have ended so badly.

The man grabs your arm painfully enough for you to whimper and that's all Pantalone needs. He doesn't even try to hide his expression behind a smile, his lips set into a straight line. He grabs the man's arm tightly, the leather of his gloves crinkling from the force, and he nearly breaks the man's arm. How dare this inferior social climber put his filthy hands on you. You have to plead with him to let the man go, desperately trying to pry his grip away as the businessman begs the Harbinger on his knees that he didn't know.

Pantalone-

Pantalone is pissed.

You've never seen him this angry before. The lady all those nights ago doesn't even compare close to the anger radiating off him. His fingers flex still as he leads you away into an isolated hallway. You're not even sure if he knows where he's going, completely blindsided by rage. So you quickly step closer and throw your arms around him, stopping him in his tracks as you bury your face into the soft fabric of his suit.

"It's okay. I'm okay," you whisper softly into his back. You're not afraid, he won't get angry, not with you. Never with you. But it still pains you to see him this way. You feel more than you hear his deep sigh before slowly turning around and taking you into his arms. "Thank you. I didn't mean to start anything, you just looked displeased and I got worried. Oh, I'm sorry-"

You quickly move to shuffle out of Pantalone's hold but you can barely get two steps back before his touch grows firm and you're trapped. Despite how strong his hold is, he gently tilts your chin up so you can look into his pretty eyes. He really does have a nice eye colour you think in the back of your mind.

"You've been avoiding me. Care to enlighten me as to why that's the case? Did someone feed your mind with little lies?" Pantalone sounds coy but you can hear the undertone of worry. As if he's done something wrong which you quickly shake your head to.

"W-Well, that incident with the lady from a few weeks ago, the one in the red and black dress, you looked really angry when she touched you so..." you trailed off as your eyes look at anywhere that isn't the man in front of you, nervously twisting the cuff of your sleeve. When you actually hear it back it does sound a bit ridiculous to believe that but you just didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Or make him act a certain way just because you liked physical touch or to uphold appearances.

"And you thought you were comparable to people like that? That I would allow special treatment just because you were mine? That I would reciprocate to anyone but you?"

You fumble a bit at how honest his words are, searching for some way to justify yourself but at the end of the day, you'll knock your head against the wall for how stupid your logic is. So you stand on your tip toes and reach hesitantly up towards his face. Pantalone's face reminds neutral but he slowly leans into his touch, his muscles finally relaxing just by your touch.

Scaramouche

How the hell he tolerates you is anyone's guess. How the hell you tolerate him is Celestia's guess. He has the worst attitude, is quick to anger, flaunts his authority wherever he goes, and is overall a terrible person to be around. Yet every time he looks over his shoulder, you're always one step away from kicking at his heels. Which you have accidentally done before and somehow survived so he must like you a smidge. You tell him it's because it's out of spite that you're still here and spite is a powerful feeling. He of all people should know.

Scaramouche despises anyone being within his personal space, which is already a pretty big range, so the idea of someone touching him is repulsive to him. If he somehow was in danger and someone touched him in order to save his life, he would probably throw a fit and shock them. Their only reward is that he doesn't kill them. It's not like he has to worry too much, no one really wants to be in his presence longer than they have to and any admirers are quickly turned off within the first couple of seconds. Which makes it all the more baffling that you still hang around him and test just how far you can poke his limits.

The first time you touched him was by accident. Someone had bumped into you causing you to fall into Scaramouche. Luckily for you, you managed to put your hands out first and brace yourself against the wall but you had successfully caged the Balladeer between your arms. If you weren't currently fearing for your life you might have laughed at the horrified expression on the Harbinger's face. The only reason you survived that day was that Tartaglia chose that exact moment to waltz in and frankly, he was a far bigger headache than you were.

He's not sure how you managed to worm your warm into his cold non-existent heart but at some point, he got used to your presence in his life. A few words to take care of himself, extra paperwork being filled, or shooing away other soldiers so he could have space. All of these acts of kindness were met with half-baked insults and suspicious looks. Every time he asked you why the hell you were acting like he was some helpless doll you always answered the same, you just felt like it and he looked like he kinda needed it. Which was so baffling to him that you managed to walk away with your head intact.

It started off with small things. Like you're both feral cats that are trying to co-exist in the same alleyway. You always announce your presence, give him enough time to leave, and your touch is barely there. You never do anything close to intimate, never hold his hand or hold his face, and he never reciprocates ever. Although it speaks volumes when he doesn't push you away ever. You're always nearby, sitting close, and you both exist contently.

But just like a feral cat, with enough time and love, even they will begin to grow comfortable and domesticated. The look on his subordinate's face was hilarious when little old you waltzed over to the sixth harbinger, plopped down into his personal space, and literally sprawled yourself over his lap to see what he was looking at. Just to one-up the absurdness, Scaramouche didn't seem bothered in the slightest, only calling you an idiot for not being able to read the document that was right in his hands.

Although there are some downsides to being so close to Scaramouche. He's possessive with the power the enforce his pride. You have to constantly scold him that he can't go frying anyone that comes within two feet of you. It's hardly efficient and it's annoying having to scream just to know what time it is.

The you from years ago would have balked at how casual you were speaking with the infamous Balladeer.

"All I'm saying is you sound like a possessive maniac," you huff, your arms crossing over your chest as you frown down at the sitting man. You doubt he's even paying attention to you because if he isn't throwing spite around then he's filtering you out of his mind. Scaramouche barely acknowledges your words, still fiddling around with the Electro Archon's gnosis. It gives off faint sparks of electro every time he rolls it over his fingers but he doesn't give any signs of pain. Maybe because he's an electro-user? Either way, he's obviously not listening to you. You let out a loud sigh before shrugging and turning on your heel to walk back into the camp. Suddenly, his hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist and he's yanking you down. The you from years ago would have fainted seeing you sprawled over your superior's lap. As your vision tilts to the sky you can't help but think that for such a small body, he sure has a lot of strength. He wears a bored expression, his other hand is cradling his head while his elbow is on his knee, before a nasty smirk makes its way over his face.

"Yeah? So what?" Scaramouch says, his hand stopping to firmly hold the gnosis, though now one of his hands is now settled on your hip. You blink. Huh, you...weren't exactly expecting the ever-prideful Balladeer to blatantly admit that.

"Well, the "what" is that it makes it incredibly inconvenient to talk to anyone. Everyone avoids me like the plague because their scared you're doing to kick down their door and attack them," you pout, grumpily adjusting your head to lay on his knee, "Also you need to eat more. You make a horrible headrest."

"That's fine. You won't need anyone else," he says dismissively.

You open your mouth to say something but the look in his eyes makes you falter. He's serious. A mixture of a past memory, the present moment of you both together, and a far-off dream all dance in his eyes. It's a look you've never seen before on Scaramouche's face despite how long you've worked under him and you can't help but be mesmerized by it. It's likely the first and last time you'll ever see him be honest. But it's quickly over as his eyes morph into snarky glee, his lips pulling into a mean grin.

"You look stupid."

Il Dottore

People are downright terrified to even be in the same room as the infamous doctor. There's never a safe moment and anyone could be the next test subject depending on his mood. It doesn't matter who it is, even his own segments, if someone touches him that means they've just volunteered to be his next experiment. It's suffocating when Dottore is out and not locked in his lab because everyone need's to be hyperaware of where the doctor is located in the room. So to say that Dottore tolerates you is a massive understatement.

He actually quite likes to parade you around, almost like you're his newest addition to his collection. Touch isn't a problem for him if he's the one initiating it given how often he's dragging you around like you're some pet. He's not gentle in the slightest, nearly pulling your arm out in his crazed rush to show you his newest creation. You would joke and say that in moments like these, he's the one that acts like the pet. Too excited to show its owner its newest achievements. But you have a sliver of sanity in your mind so you keep your mouth shut.

Every moment with Dottore is a warped sense of time. You've been with the Doctor for a long time, before he became a Harbinger, and you don't know how your relationship progressed to this stage. You're walking on a tightrope of old colleges that are too intertwined with history to be separated or co-dependent individuals that need death to finally leave each other. So when he touches you softly, affectionally, you stumble and fall off your rope. The mad doctor laughing from above, arms still outstretched from where he's pushed you.

Half of it is madness, and half of it is out of genuine love. Although, to Dottore, madness and love are the same things. His acts of affection are spontaneous and equally as fleeting. One second he's rattling off medical terms and theories, pauses in his rant just to give you a deep kiss no matter who's around you to witness the act, and proceeds as if nothing happens. That's not to say you don't enjoy it when he decides to reward you, you just wished it wasn't in front of so many people. You suspect he does it on purpose.

There's no softness or quiet time aside from the very very few and far between moments Dottore decides to indulge you. He's a busy man, his mind only built for progress, and he has better things to do than to play pretend. But for you, the one who forcibly carved space into his heart, he can make arrangements. Only for a short while. Some days he may hold you as if you'll shatter if he squeezes any harder, other days he'll push your hair away from your eyes quietly, and one day he kisses you as if you're something more.

Unlike Dottore, you don't have an intimidating reputation. People can touch you if they want to. It makes you a bit happy when Childe will pat you on the back or ruffle your hair cheekily. He's also one of the few who can get away with it as well since Dottore can't physically harm him for touching you since he's a fellow Harbinger. Besides, people speak with their eyes more. Since that doesn't qualify as anyone touching you, Dottore won't do anything. So they stare.

They stare at how the Harbinger holds you in a special place. You aren't remarkable, you're the same as the rest of them. Yet you're untouchable and invincible from the man who can change their entire lives. Mistakes occur frequently when Dottore is in the room, the slip of a finger because everyone is too focused on staying out of the Doctor's way. You get to stand beside someone like that.

It's been a hard day. A very hard day. You're absolutely exhausted and ready to curl up into a ball as soon as you get to your room. You aren't even sure what exactly happened. One second you were doing your job and the next your head was on the ground with a pulsing pain on your right cheek. It's not unusual for patients to lash out but under those circumstances, they don't have anything to do with you intimately. You know what people think about your relationship with Dottore. What people who only glimpse into the relationship you have with him think. Usually, they stay silent, only judging you with their eyes but always silent. That is until nearly 10 minutes ago.

"You're late."

You barely react when you hear his voice. Of course, it's him. God, what bad timing. He's the last person you want to see right now, especially in this state. You only give him a nod and mumbled out apologies, stumbling over your feet like a newborn lamb when his hand latches onto your wrist to drag you off again. You think you might have his fingerprints as bruises now. Another thing people can mistakenly think about your relationship. You only know you're crying when you hear the splatter of your tears against the tiled floors and Dottore's footsteps come to a halt. His grip on you has gotten tighter.

You're startled out of your wallowing when warm hands cup your face, brushing your tears away. His gloves are off. When did he take them off? Dottore simply looks at you as you silently cry. You're too tired to apologize, too tired to break down in sobs. Your arms hang uselessly at your sides but you close your eyes and lean into his touch.

"Give me their name."

He whispers it softly. You think back at the girl that struck you. You think she's new, she has to be. You know that if you say her name, you won't see her tomorrow. But you're too tired right now. So with no hesitation, you volunteer her to become the next test subject.

[yumeka-sxf]

Even though today's new chapter was pretty funny, it also reinforces how Damian's need to act indifferent and even hostile towards Anya stems from emotional baggage from his family - whether it's brainwashing, strict discipline, or something else, we see how he's so afraid to show even a minute trace of feelings towards a "commoner" that he has to go through hoops just to ensure no one else sees him give Anya a gift.

What could the Desmond family have instilled in him that gives him such aversion to anyone of a lower social standing? I hope we find out someday. But at the same time, this chapter also gave me the impression that Damian doesn't like having to put on this jerk act in front of everyone. He seemed annoyed and exhausted that he had to do all this just to repay a debt, a debt which no one was demanding of him. Despite all the insults he hurls, the kid has morals and dignity. So it's a shame he feels such a strong need to supress that (he and Twilight have a lot in common in that regard. Twilight is simply better at hiding his real feelings since he's an adult and has been doing it much longer).

However, Damian seems okay with showing only Anya his softer side (when no one else is looking of course). Probably because, unlike all the other Eden kids, she's not from a high-class family with whom the Desmonds have to put on airs with.

While I'm not nearly as into Damianya as Twiyor, I can appreciate them as a cute future couple when they're older, with the seeds of that future relationship slowly sprouting in the series (though nothing romantic now of course as they are only 1st graders). Endo brought back Damian's "shojo filter" in this chapter, which was at maximum strength! (Is Damian secretly a CLAMP fan? 😂)

It's only at the end of the chapter, when the debt is repaid and Damian can finally relax, that he's able to see Anya's natural cuteness, without the shojo filter (his expression here looks like one of Twilight's...they really do have a lot in common!)

What's also interesting is that, compared to some of their early confrontations, Anya never returned Damian's insults until recently, maybe around the end of the bus hijacking arc. In the beginning of the series, she seemed to not know how to act when faced with bullying and was just focused on getting Damian to be friends with her. Now she openly returns his jabs with her own.

This could be because she's confident that they're friends now, so she doesn't have to hold back and can match his insults without worry. Or maybe she's just learning how to better deal with hostility her own way? Or she's just copying his bad manners...hard to say 😅

I like how Endo brought back Damian's promise to repay Anya for the handkerchief incident. From what I've gathered reading the manga fanbook, he tries hard not to leave plot points unaddressed. Which brings me to another highlight of this chapter - mention of Melinda again!

I knew Endo wouldn't forget about her, but I've also been wondering when she would return as a prominent figure in the plot. This chapter raises the question of why she's so intent on Damian and Anya becoming friends...is it simply because Yor would like that, and she wants to be good friends with Yor? Or is there some ulterior motive behind the scenes?

Even though stories focused on the Eden kids aren't typically my favorites, I actually really enjoyed this chapter! It had the great SxF comedy I love of misunderstandings between the characters leading to hilarious moments - Emile and Ewen think Damian wants to duel Anya, Becky thinks Anya wants to spend alone time with him because she's in love, Damian just wants to give Anya the gift to clear his conscience, and Anya just wants to eat the cakes!

(I love how Endo made Anya's mouth slightly watering throughout the chapter whenever she's thinking of the cakes!)

It's hard to tell if this was just a stand-alone chapter or if it will lead to a continuation of the "plan C" thing brought up a while back. I hope it does if it means we get to learn more about Melinda and the Desmond family overall!

[muekyn]

…uhh the attack titan’s ability to see into the future… which causes eren to know that he is going to be with you… but he doesn’t know when or how…

the catalyst for it all was eren brushing by you one day. just a small graze of your body against his. of course, he had seen you before, interacted with you before. but this was the first time he’s ever actually touched you.

feeling your soft skin was enjoyable enough for eren. but there was more. without much control over it, there was a flash of a memory that eren could see, a spark of a memory that eren could experience.

in his vision, there was a beautiful meadow. blades of green decorating all of eren’s peripheral. the sky was painted different hues of oranges and pinks, a naturally beautiful mix of colors that provided a sense of peace.

and in that vision, he saw you. he was with you. holding your hand, caressing your skin with his finger. you were so absolutely beautiful; ethereal, even. and in that moment, everything felt right. you, the sky, the clouds. you blended with the world in such a harmonious fashion.

needless to say, that little interaction between you two shifted the way eren saw you. he swooned over you, he fawned for you, he desired you. and he knew he would have you, eventually.

despite knowing you’ll be his, he’s super shy around you. every moment alone with you makes him question if “it’s time”. if it’s leading up to the moment he saw in his vision. for eren, the idea that you’ll be looking up at him with bright eyes and a caring smile, makes him incredibly nervous. he so badly wants that day to come already. he so badly wants to whisper sweet nothings to you, to allow yourself to be absorbed into his embrace.

eren was devoted to you.

you noticed eren’s change of behavior gradually. at first, it was just subtle glances thrown your way. however, as time went on, eren started to talk to you more. there were conversations that lasted for hours, carving away uncertainties and worries, and replacing them with hopes and ambitions. undoubtedly, eren held onto every word you spoke, providing you with so much unwavering attention.

and the way he looked at you… it was something you’ve never experienced before. sweetness and affection dripped from his gaze. his irises seemed to illuminate whenever you spoke with him, especially whenever your eyes met his. it was extremely intense. briefly, the two of you would take in each other, silently admiring one another.

however, there were points in time where eren’s eyes would show deep vulnerability. you could quite literally see the despair that rested behind his eyes, the unrelenting torment he must be going through. he was an undoubtedly scarred soul. yet, you could accept that about him.

his anger was something that you tried to help him with. when he would start to work himself up, you would be by his side to try and rationalize his feelings. he was certainly allowed to be angry, but you were always there to remind him that you were there for him, and not to let his feelings consume him. it took a long time of convincing, but eren seemed to genuinely take your words to heart.

but there was one thing that you couldn’t shake from him. and that was his overly protective nature. there would be moments where eren would get intensely aggressive at others, especially other men. eren wasn’t subtle about it either. if any guy flirted with you, or asked you out, they would seemingly avoid you at all costs the next day. the men would make claims that eren threatened them, telling them not to interact with you anymore.

despite it all, eren was gentle and kind to you. it was really only you that got that treatment, though. everyone else was treated with indifference at best, hostility at worst. but with you, none of that abrasiveness was present. his voice was calm and his touch was soft, almost hesitant.

eren had a hard time keeping his hands away from you. every moment you two shared alone together, he would embrace you, in very subtle ways. shyly caressing your cheek with his hand, or tilting his head onto your shoulder. each touch from him was met with embarrassed laughs, neither one of you knowing how or when to make the next move.

until one day, eren sees you sitting peacefully in a grass field. you are sitting a significant distance away from the other soldiers, using this downtime as a chance to read. you’re perched underneath a large oak tree when you notice eren near you. with sweetness oozing from your voice, you call him over.

carefully, somewhat cautiously, eren joins you. as eren sits with you, he silently admires you. the way you brighten up when you speak with him. the kind and considerate words you give him. just sitting with you, absorbing the world with you; there’s nothing more eren could ask for.

well, if he could ask for more, it would be to have you melt from his embrace. to have you tell him how much you love him. just as much as he loves you. and right now, staring at you, listening to your honeyed voice- caused an insatiable desire deep within eren. it was overwhelming. it was suffocating. he needed you. if only he could just…

as eren is lost in thought, he consumes you with his gaze. without seeming to realize it, you do the same; eyes simply locked on one another while the world falls silent.

very curtly, you lean into eren, giving him a small kiss on his cheek. it’s just a small embrace, a momentary act of affection. but eren knows, and you know, that it means so much more. absolutely so much more.

before you can fully pull away from eren, he wraps his arms delicately around you. as you melt into him, he graces you with a kiss, shyly locking his lips against yours. there’s a hint of mint, a subtle sweetness on his lips. his fingers dance around your skin, trailing his hands along your body, feeling you as if it would be the last sensation he’d experience. his embrace is so soft, so absolutely gentle and warm.

the sky around you slowly transitioned into a clash of pinks and oranges. the breeze is ever so slightly blowing through your hair and against your palms, while eren makes patterns in your skin with his fingers. as he pulls away from your lips, his vibrant turquoise eyes gaze at you with so much affection, so much undying softness.

eren didn’t know every aspect of his future. but in this moment, you love him. and that was enough for eren.

[14dayswithyou]

i asked a question about the post where it was said that canon renren wouldn't care about his children, so I decided to clarify

(I don't remember exactly how I asked)

By not caring about them, does he mean that he would not want to take part in their upbringing, since his father traumatized him very much?

(I hope that in the scene, where renren and angel meet his parents, it will be possible to shoot taylor (or replenish a renren account on the darknet with a new torture...)

(and happy belated birthday, renren!)

and another question: in day 3, it says that Ren only has a motorcycle, didn't Ren have a car? I remember for sure that somewhere there was an old answer where it was said that he had both a motorcycle and a car

ANSWERED: I think people see how "soft" Ren is on this blog and kinda forget the fact that he canonically only cares about Angel and no one else. He's often described as being apathetic, indifferent, and hostile towards everyone around him -- and the only person he truly feels empathy and genuine emotions for is Angel.

Ren would 100% care/be there for his kid and would never subject them to the same abuse he suffered as a child, but he won't prioritise them over Angel either. He'll love them because they're an extension of Angel, but he won't feel the same empathy or attachment the same way he does for his lifelong obsession. Canonically, Ren has no strong opinions on children, and he wouldn't really mind either way if Angel wanted to start a family or not. All he cares about -- and will ever care about -- is them.

If you haven't seen them already, here and here are two posts that show how Ren would react around his children.

I also wanna quickly clarify that Blog Ren differs from Canon Ren because while I don't see certain things happening in the official universe of 14DWY; I don't want to outright shut down people's creativity or ideas either. If someone asks about Ren's opinion on children, I'm not going to be like "he canonically hates them, next question". I want to give some sort of content that others can enjoy and work with. I hope this makes sense!! Any maybe helps to show the difference between the "canon" tag and "blog canon" tag! ^^

But!! As for Ren owning a car: he does!! It's a black Corvette -- but the reason why it's not mentioned in the demo is because it's linked with @unsentmemory's storyline (and the True Ending of 14DWY)! It'll be brought up later as more chapters are released, however!!

Also please keep in mind that we're only up to Day 3 out of 14+ days, so not all content found on this blog will appear in the demo ^^;

[aloesarchives]

I was wondering, in your Megumi mini series (the one where reader is Tojis ex and left cause he wasn’t over his ex wife), is he dead here, or is he still alive and trying to be active in both his kids lives or is alive and has he abandoned them?

That's a good question, Anon!

(And for everyone else, don't be afraid to send me asks/questions! I love answering you guys's asks so please don't feel afraid to send some. All I ask is for no requests, that's it.)

See, I haven't really decided on that yet because I was working on my other WIPs first. For what I'm planning in this Canon Divergence, it's a mix of the last two. Toji is still alive but isn't home all the time. Toji does take care of Tsumiki and Megumi to the best of his abilities but also kinda doesn't. He's gone most of the day and only gets back at late at night to only leave in the morning. Toji is physically there but not mentally nor emotionally there for Tsumiki and Megumi. He pays the apartment/utilities but leaves the grocery/household shopping mostly to Megumi and Tsumiki. He'll talk to them but it's more of those scripted conversations.

I'll expand more on these in the mini series.

Also, Curses and Jujutsu Sorcery still exist in this universe but the vibe is more of slice of life/a gifted high school for students with supernatural/human abilities minus the looming dangers. Like Jujutsu society is hidden in plain sight where they go on patrols and missions almost daily. The vibe is based on season 1-2 of RWBY and Early MHA. If that makes sense at all, anon. If not, I can explain more because I won't explain it too deep into the mini series.

In this Au, Tsumiki doesn't get curse like in the Canon. Tsumiki is still alive and she and Megumi grow up together. Tsumiki tries to find a silver lining and the benefit of the doubt with Toji's lack of presence as she's the kind-hearted older sister. But Megumi just feels indifferent about Toji. If not, Megumi's frustrated with his father's presence because what he did to reader. Megumi's grudge, all I will say as of writing this, runs pretty deep and is very strong. Like out of my other AUs, Megumi is this AU is a lot more emotional distance and unstable to anyone that's not Tsumiki or Reader. He's a bit more moody and hostile, especially towards Toji as he gets older.

Again I will explain more and expand upon once the poll is done because I can't really focus on the mini series until I get my current WIP done. But thank you anon for the question!

[mykinkyyandere]

In The Future

AO3

Pairings: Yandere/Dark! Five Hargreeves X f!Reader X Viktor Hargreeves

Summary: Five sees something in the future and tries to prevent it from happening.

Warnings: Yandere, dark, obseesive & possessive behaviours, controlling/rude/jealous Five, naive reader, threatening, grown-up Five

You were aware that Five's obsessive and irritable behavior had changed. He was more grumpy, meaner than ever. Whatever had happened since he had jumped into the future had changed him. Everyone was aware of his change, especially in his approach to you and to Viktor. He wasn't even trying to hide it. He was more caring to you while treating everyone else with indifference and contempt, and Viktor's interest in you in particular angered him very, very much. He always wanted you by his side. He convinced everyone that you should stay with him while he bossed them around. You had to stand next to him or the world would be destroyed. But more like his world.

They all knew that you were a pretty naive person. Your approach to life was much more innocent, much more friendly. Something that caught Five's attention quite a bit. He kept saying he had to protect you. He was very strict about not leaving your side and going crazy when he didn't know what you were doing. He wanted to control everyone, but you the most, and your being submissive only made his job much easier. Viktor was fed up with this. He grabbed you by the arm, pulled you behind him, and took a step forward, challenging Five. "She's not your pet."

Five didn't tell anyone what was going on in the future, and no one could figure out why he suddenly showed a clear interest in you. They knew he had a tacit interest in you before, a covered and secret interest. They could tell from his behaviour and words he chose. They, especially Klaus, wanted to tease him about it but then gave up, anticipating Five's aggressive reaction. But now Five didn't try to hide anything. He was visibly hostile to Viktor and tried to possess you. Whenever they asked him questions, he pushed them back with insults.

He certainly didn't take it well when Viktor tried to take you away from him. He jumped behind Viktor, pulling you back and pushing him. But this was no ordinary push, he smashed him into the wall. Then he jumped right in front of Viktor and punched, causing his eyes to turn white. With an energy emanating from his body, he pushed Five backwards and soared into the air. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Stay away from her. Or I swear, I will kill you." Five wrapped his arms around you and gave everyone a threatening look. When Diego tried to approach to calm him down, he yelled at him to back off. Viktor couldn't even express his anger. Five's behavior confused him a lot.

"Why are you so interested in her all of a sudden? What's so special about her?" He stepped on the floor and got closer to him, eyes still glowing, but Five walked back and pulled you behind him. He didn't wanted Viktor to get any closer to you. He hissed between his teeth. "She was always so special to me."

"Then why didn't you talk to her? You don't talk to her and attack when someone tries to. What technique is this?" His eyes returned to normal and a small smile appeared on his face. "What did you see in the future?"

Five's grip tightened and it hurt you. He was so angry, or had very different emotions. Maybe both. "None of your business!"

"You saw me and her. Together. Right? That's why you're so..." He leaned and whispered, "scared." He looked at you and winked. His smile was confident and seemed to want to give you comfort because you looked so small and scared behind possessive Five.

Five pulled you to his chest and leaned your head, blocking your view. "It is you who should be scared because I'm ready to do anything to get what I want."

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

“A what now?” Her voice sounds loud and panicky even to her own ears. She’d stood up so fast when the armored woman had said the words that her chair has fallen over behind her, punctuating the exclamation with a thud.

Urag, slightly more composed than Kharish, says with barely-restrained urgency, “You brought an Elder Scroll here?”

“An Elder Scroll? No, no, I’ve brought you… yes, three,” says the Dragonborn mildly, her voice muffled by her helmet. She sets the large bundle under her arm onto the counter and unwraps the cloak.

There are, in fact, three. Three Elder Scrolls.

Kharish imagines, very suddenly, what it would be like to wake up to everyone in the world swarming over the decaying bridge (excess overflowing off the sides, into the sea) like an army of ants descending on the remains of a picnic. She needs to sit down. She almost does before remembering she knocked over her chair.

“How—” Urag’s voice cracks. He clears his throat. “How much are you asking?” She hears what he really means:

You can’t expect us to have access to the kind of money these would be worth.

You can’t leave without letting us try anyway.

The Dragonborn makes an indifferent gesture. “I am not asking.” She sounds faintly puzzled, bemusement tinging the dreamy distant quality of her voice. “I brought them to you.”

“Why?” Kharish immediately thinks better of asking as Urag grabs her shoulder with a strangling grip and a low hiss of her name, here translated to mean shut up.

She doesn’t seem to know how to answer that. “They are…” The Dragonborn pauses. “…finished, with me. This is where they go now.”

Being a hero of legend must involve being hit in the head, very hard and very often. Kharish had assumed from the accomplishments attributed to the Dragonborn that she must be a woman as cunning as she is powerful, not one who talks as though her head is full of cotton and hands out pieces of the fabric of reality for no particular reason.

She can see Urag furiously planning out a display that is absolutely hostile to any presence deemed too close, which is inarguably the best course of action; they don’t let certain books out from behind the protective glass at all, and those don’t even run the risk of unpredictable reality-altering and blindness and—whatever else these artifacts are capable of.

Not even the Imperial Library has an Elder Scroll anymore, much less three.

As ill-advised as it is, the thought of how fumingly, uselessly envious they’ll be has her mentally composing her next interlibrary letter. Esteemed colleagues in Cyrodiil, I initially thought to seek your advice regarding a certain set of recent acquisitions, but I seem to recall your experience is primarily in losing track of priceless relics—

The Dragonborn’s head swivels without warning, her entire demeanor shifting, somehow more rigid, more alert. More present. The clouds in her head must have cleared in one swift wind. “I am needed,” she says. “May I use your roof?”

They gesture simultaneously to the dark spiral stairs leading to the roof. The Dragonborn ascends out of sight with singular focus; before the door has even creaked shut again a thunderous WULD! sends tremors through the stone walls.

Kharish smooths the end of the cloak still underneath the Scrolls, half afraid to touch them directly. They’re hard to look at for very long, even unopened as they are, reflecting both too much and not enough light. One rolls towards her with the trembling of the building; reflexively, she jerks the cloak up to stop its movement, illogically terrified for a brief moment it might lunge at her. “I didn’t realize,” she says as the walls fade to quiet again, “that the Dragonborn was such an emptyheaded ninny.”

“I don’t much care what he is,” says Urag, eyes shining. “Where’s Mirabelle? She needs to see these.”

“Should we start drafting a request to Solitude?” She looks up at him. Her fingertips hover over the fabric.

He laughs suddenly. “Oh. Oh. …I hadn’t even begun to think of—no. No, but Mirabelle will have the final say. It’d come with idiots claiming to be oversight committees, red tape, too many nosy—well, maybe even more of Ancano’s ilk, and that alone’s enough to deserve a strong no.”

He’s right, of course. No amount of gold is worth even the faintest possibility of that. She files it away with the letter the Imperial Library won’t be receiving. “Still,” she says, a little wistful, “under better circumstances, maybe. There’s so much we could do with government funding!”

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

After spending months at Shadowvale, learning to control his abilities, Theo was desperate for some fun. The closest thing to fun he could find was painting on the school supplied easel in his quarters. With no modern technology to distract him, Theo was becoming quite the artist. It gave him something to update his parents on at least during their weekly video call. He'd shown his fathers a recent painting and Abe had nearly teared up with pride. He'd let his own artistic skills lapse over the years, but he promised to collaborate with his son when he finally came home. Of course, as usual, Theo's parents knew next to nothing about Adam to pass along to him. Evren had talked at length with Adam's father and had only returned with "He's doing a lot better" and "his friend from Crystal Cove has been visiting quite often".

Theo didn't know which friend was spending time with Adam, as there were several Crystal Cove apprentices who regularly texted with his boyfriend. It was great to hear that Adam was doing better than before, but Theo was still in the dark about what he was recovering from. It was tearing him up inside, trying to guess what was going on with Adam and all of their friends in Pleasantview. They were all living their lives together, while Theo was stuck in the middle of nowhere with only a paintbrush to keep him company. He still hadn't made any friends at the school, which wasn't a surprise since he saw other students so infrequently. Whenever he had a rare lesson with other students, Theo's attempts to socialize were met with hostility or indifference. If he had to spend another semester or god forbid, another year at Shadowvale, Theo was going to scream.

Apparently, after the long months he had been here, Theo had earned a small reward. Once every two weeks, he would be permitted to leave the campus and explore the country that housed the school. He would have magical restrictions of course, and be shadowed by school security, but finally, he was granted a small taste of freedom.

His first outing was to the local movie theater, as the school security team deemed it an easy place to control any deviation from their plans.

Theo hadn't been to a movie theater in ages, not since Adam had dragged him to see their classmate Devard's mother's new film. The movie itself had been boring, but all the kissing during the slow parts had been worth it. It didn't matter what movie was playing, so long as Theo wasn't at school.

Theo took his seat in the theater and watched curiously as people trickled in to see the show.

He had been given very strict rules of conduct that would likely affect his hope of future outings if he disobeyed them. Shadowvale was a rare and mysterious school in a region that was shielded from the outside world. He had needed the staff to open a portal to campus in the first place, as regular teleportation was impossible from the outside world.

Theo was advised not to reveal that he had two biological fathers or a boyfriend waiting for him at home, as most of the society near the school was extremely "traditional" whatever that meant. He should certainly not admit to being a demon in certain circles as well. There were reasons for how difficult it was to be admitted to Shadowvale. There were signs praising the Watcher everywhere as well as the Leader. If Adam sometimes thought Arkhelios was a weird place to live, he'd be stunned by Shadowvale's realm.

The movie itself was boring. The plot circled around a "Maiden of Jacob" and her intense desire to sacrifice herself for the good of the Jacobean population. Everyone else in the audience had cheered at the end of the movie, while Theo was still confused about the plot. Every character died in the end, save the Jacobean Proxy, yet people were cheering like it ended happily.

Theo wasn't permitted to walk back to campus and couldn't summon any demonic magic in this strange place, so he was forced to wait for his campus "wellness" team to come return him to school. While Theo waited impatiently to return to his imprisonment, another teen sat on the couch beside him and smiled.

"I haven't seen you around here before," the teen said warmly. "There aren't very many new people my age around here."

"I go to Shadowvale," Theo replied cautiously. Getting into a conversation meant that he might slip up and mention the forbidden topics, making his life misery when he returned to school. "This is my first trip off campus."

"Ah, the school of dark magic. A family friend goes there. Do you know Torkel?"

Theo shook his head.

"It doesn't sound familiar, but I haven't met anyone really in class. I barely see the other students."

"Our family is the opposite alignment. We don't go to Shadowvale. I've always been curious about it though."

"I really don't think I'm allowed to talk about it," Theo confessed. "They're pretty strict and I'd like to keep earning time away from that place."

"Of course, I'm sorry," the teen apologized. "That sounds about right for Shadowvale. I don't want to get you in trouble or anything. I'm Brion, by the way. Brion Pryor."

"Theo. Theo Bellamy."

The two boys formally shook hands.

"Do you want to come over sometime or hang out if you're free?" Brion asked. "We don't see many new teens come here. Having a Shadowvale student over may raise the opinion of my family among the good witches. Outreach to the fallen and all that."

"Yeah, I'll ask my 'team' if I'm allowed," Theo sighed. "Anything is better than homework or staring at the same four walls of my room all night."

"Speaking of, it looks like your ride home is here," Brion laughed, pointing to the two witches who looked more like soldiers than teachers, scanning the room for Theo.

"Yep, that would be them," Theo sighed. "I'd tell you to text me, but we're not allowed to use phones. So call the school about hanging out maybe? It was nice meeting you."

The night had been a strange success for the demon hybrid. He saw a bit of the world outside of Shadowvale, realized that foreign movies were weird and maybe made a friend. It wasn't Pleasantview, but this was probably the most fun Theo had had in months.

[beheworthy]

What is your opinion of the Russo brothers' writing about Thor?

I'm thinking you mean their "handling" of Thor. Under their direction in Avengers3 and 4, Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely wrote him.

I think it was great barring the framing in Avengers4.

In my opinion, Thor in Avengers3 is his best iteration. He's serious, sincere, has a personality and when there is humor, it's not at the expense of his character. He has agency and makes his story happen. And has the biggest power up of his career:

All in freakin' 14 minutes of screen time.

The issue with Avengers4 wasn't how Thor was, but how everyone else was to him. The fact that characters were indifferent (Steve and Natasha) or downright hostile (Rhodey, Barton, Talking Rabbit) to him was a poor reflection on them, not him.

I love that he just collapses and becomes a depressed alcoholic. It's a great exploration of his grief and gives meaning to the trauma he's suffered (something Waititi forgets to do). Where they messed up was instead of framing it sympathetically, they framed it for comedy. Which just isn't cool.

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

If you are still taking headcanons, could you do a "I hate everyone except you" Trope with brucey

Sorry this took so long, and I hope you like it!!!!

I feel like Bruce's whole thing is he hates everyone but the people he likes

He mostly tolerates the people around him

Alfred is well aware he's probably the only person Bruce talks to

So when Bruce starts regaining control of Wayne enterprises

The other board members assign him someone who knows the ins and outs of the company to get him settled

And at first he resists

Because he doesn't need anyone's help

He treats you with the indifference he treats everyone else

But you do end up helping him

You give him tips on the other board members

And even let him know that one of them is planning a hostile takeover

He finds that you start to grow on him

It's reluctant friendship to begin with

But then he invites you to a fundraiser because the only thing worse than going, is going alone

He actually ends up having a good time

Because you know the dirt on everyone

And people from WE are staring

Because grumpy Bruce Wayne is trying not to laugh as you whisper in his ear

Bruce starts thinking maybe getting back out into the world isn't so bad

Send me a headcanon

[idontknowmyownmind]

Fem!Mammon AU

An AU where Mammon was not a part of the Celestia war. It's not because she is not part of Lucifer's little family in the Celestia realm, but it's because when it happened Michael had her go far away. So in a sense he made Mammon unaware of this.

In this AU, Michael is not abusive toward Mammon but he is obsessed with her. He wants her as his alone. For her to only see him as his brother and family, someone who she only loves. At first, his love toward Mammon is pure but then she meets Lucifer. From there Michael's love for her became twisted and he started to obsess over her.

So that's why he does all things necessary to make Mammon hate Lucifer and his little brothers. Yes, Lilith's situation is actually a result of his scheme. When Mammon came home and found out about what had happened, she was heartbroken. She is angry and throws a tantrum and blames Michael. But Michael is known to have a clever mind, so he let her take it all out at first and worm his manipulative words inside her heart when she is at her lowest. He twisted the situation to fit his goal and in the end Mammon believed him.

From then on, Mammon only opened up to Michael. She only trusts him and follows his guidance. She does everything he said and believes everything he told her because for her everyone is a liar and only Michael will never tell lies to her.

(The brothers thought that Mammon knew about the war but chose not to participate. They felt betrayed because she was their sister and they were family. The only angel who knows the truth is Simeon.)

She also became emotionless and cold. She only shows her true self to a few people. That person is Michael, Simeon, and Luke. Her eyes are cold and dull for everyone else but they always soften when she looks at Luke. They are also more expressive toward Simeon. Michael lets it happen because he knows that Mammon will not love Luke more than him (he is not a threat like the brothers). His biggest threat would be Simeon. But he knows that Simeon is smarter and knows better than to try to win Mammon over him. He knows how cruel Michael can be when someone try to take his sister away.

One thing about this new Mammon is how rare she smiles. The only one who receives her smile more often is probably Michael. It's because she became more expressive and alive around Michael.

With this, Michael got what he wanted. For Mammon to only see him as her older brother and family. For Mammon to only love him more and make him his priority and most treasured person.

...

The next time she meets her former brothers is during the exchange program. Even though her thoughts are spiraling, her face remains blank, devoid of emotions and her eyes dull.

The brothers were shocked to see her again. But what shocked them more is how empty Mammon looked. They are still angry and feel betrayed by the war. They think it will be easy for them to be hostile toward her but they are wrong. Because with this, all they want is to ask, why? Where were you? Are we not family?

The younger ones look heartbroken and want nothing more than their sister's presence. Lucifer wants nothing more than to make sure that she is fine and happy. But seeing how indifferent and cold she looks at them, they don't know what to do. The sister they remember is someone warm and affectionate. Who always smile in their presence. Whose eyes are warm.

What they didn't expect was for Michael to step out of the portal and place his hands on Mammon's shoulders. He has his default smile like always, but his eyes are cold and cutting when he gazes over the brothers.

'Sorry for my appearance. I just want to make sure nothing goes wrong on this side. Besides, I'm quite worried about my sister down here. I promise I'm not gonna stay for long.'

'Ah! Of course it's fine. It must be hard to let your precious sister go. You don't need to worry, I'll make sure she is safe here.'

'Thank you.'

Michael then turns Mammon around so she is facing him. He swip her bangs lightly and smiles at her. A contrast with how his first appearance, his face softened and his eyes warm. He hold her hand and says,

'Remember what I said. Don't forget what I told you, Mammon. I want what is best for you. If something happens, you can always come back to me. I'll always on your side and protect you. Never forget about that. I love you, sister.' And then he kiss her forehead. They didn't realized it at first how tense Mammon was until she relax the moment she feels Michael presence.

(I'm the only one who truly loves you. No one cares for you as much as I do. Whatever I say to you is for your own good, Mammon. I only want what is best for you. Everyone who acts nice to you only wants to take advantage of you. They don't really care about you. They just pity the weak little girl who is left behind by who she thought of her family. Who is too kind for her own good. But it's okay, you are my precious little sister. You don't need to be perfect, because you will be perfect when you're with me. I'll make you perfect. Keep following me and be by my side, sister.)

He gently brings her to his embrace. He tightens his hold when Mammon returns it. He doesn't stay long as he said.

After his leave. Diavolo instruct them to introduce each other. Mammon blinked once while tilting her head when it's Satan's turn. When the brothers tease Luke, he unconsciously reach for Mammon's hand while trying to defend himself.

'They are just teasing you, Luke.' Said her softly while patting his head. She doesn't smile but her eyes are soft. The softest they see since she arrived. Luke looks at her pouting, he grumbles a little before hugging her arm and showing his tongue to the brothers and ignoring them.

It make the little brother jealous. Simeon smile seeing Mammon and Luke and bold enough to mush her hair. Something he needs to think twice in the Celestia realm. Mammon is not smiling but she hufh a cuckle. Lucifer has his lip in thin line.

I don't know whether I want them to find out the truth or just let everything play out like this.

(Fun facts about this AU:

1. Everyone, yes even Lucifer, believes that Michael is a good guy. They don't doubt him about almost everything and trust him.

2. The only one who doesn't trust Michael since the beginning is Belphie. He finds Michael suspicious. Not once or twice did he see how Michale's face twisted when he watched Mammon interact with him and his brothers back in Celestia realm.

3. One of the reasons Michale pushed his agenda is because Belphegor started to become bold to confront him.

4. Simeon starts to doubt Michael when he accidently sees how gleeful Michael looks after the brothers fall.

5. At first, Simeon also thinks that Mammon knows about the war but chooses to ignore it. But it changes when he walks in on Michael comforting Mammon and hears what he said to her which is not true but not completely lies either. Since then, he kept finding strange things he didn't notice before.

6. At the beginning Simeon tries to take Mammon from him but Michael does something that makes Simeon stop. But that doesn't stop him from trying to 'help' Mammon. But it's not as open as before.

7. Simeon's agenda beside taking care of Luke and making sure that Mammon is safe is to let Mammon see and find out that Michael is not that good of a person. For her and the brothers to mend their broken bond.)

POSSIBLE PLOT TWIST:

Mammon actually knows the truth years after the war and before the exchange program. But her mind already became twisted so the first thing, after the anger passed swiftly, she thought that everything was her fault. Michael did all of this because she loves her and doesn't want her to leave him alone. It's her fault for not giving and showing him enough love to ease his heart that without a doubt she will always love him. She might come to love the brothers but she should do more to let Michael know that her love for him will remain unchanging. Lilith had to die and the brothers fell from grace because they entwined their life with her. So everything is because of her.

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 197

Dervish

Dervish is a word that means poor, destitute one. Even though it is used for the poor and helpless in worldly terms, in Sufi terminology it is used for those who are aware of their poverty and helplessness before God. Although poverty and helplessness in worldly terms are associated with beggary, travelers to God are not poor and helpless in that they do not ask anyone for anything. Heroes of truth, who have dedicated themselves to God, are content with what He has given them and are indifferent to all other things. Even in hunger and thirst they unburden themselves to God, without revealing their need to others. A dervish is also regarded as being the threshold to a door. This does not mean that dervishes humiliate themselves before people; rather, it means that they are humble and in their awareness of their nothingness before God attribute to Him whatever they may possess that is worthy of appreciation. They are also humble among people because of the Creator and always aware that they are a precious work of God’s art with all the Divine gems inherent in their nature.

Sometimes perfect people are mentioned as being the dervishes of a certain guide. This is because it is important to stress the place of a dervish, both in the sight of God and of people. Besides, sometimes simple, humble, content, and lenient people are called dervishes, while there are some great, sagacious persons with a deep knowledge of God who are known as “a poor one with the heart of sultan,” in that they are magnanimous even though poor.

The leading scholars of Sufism describe a true dervish as one who is abstinent, pious, righteous, patient, loving, tolerant, and steadfast, severing relations with all else save God from the heart, and devoted to His service with the intention and effort of reaching Him.

A dervish takes his or her first step by holding back from sins and by fulfilling obligatory and supererogatory religious duties. The second step is to be loving and tolerant toward everyone, to see the universe as a cradle of brotherhood/sisterhood, and to try to represent the nature and morals of Muhammad, and the truth of his being Ahmad, upon him be peace and blessings. The third step is to reach the horizon of sincerity and perfect goodness and to develop the theoretical knowledge and belief based on imitation into experience and verified truths.

At the first stage, dervishes are at the beginning of piety, and demonstrate that they are ready to understand the Qur’an and to start the journey to meet with the Almighty. They are awarded in proportion to their sincerity and purity of intention and advance toward piety and the summits of being pleased with God and finally into the Gardens of Paradise.

God Almighty says: The great among you are those who are pious. The last abode of the pious will be Paradise and their drink will be kawthar.[1]

In the second stage, they build relations with all existence, living or non-living, (without, however, assigning their heart to any other than the Almighty) and appreciate each according to its position. They love and embrace everything, repel hostilities with love, and evil with good. Thinking that the road that they are to follow is the road of not showing resentment, but rather that of patience and tolerance, they run toward the rank of being pleased with God, and whisper like Yunus:

You should be voiceless to one who curses, and handless to one who beats; A dervish should have no heart to resent, so you cannot be a dervish.

In the third stage, dervishes are persons of peace and spiritual vision, having entered the way of seeing, feeling, and knowing only Him, and being faithful friends of Him. It makes no difference to them whether good comes from friends or evil from enemies. This is even more so if they have heard the voice of the Friend, then they will no longer feel breaths other than His, and will be freed from interest in and worries about any other than Him, acquiring a second nature that is determined by “secret.” They know what they really should know and are freed from bearing a burden of unnecessary information.

Everyone can enter the way of being a dervish. No one who has taken a step on this way is denied. However, entering such a way has some requirements which one who is ready to take the first step on this way is expected to fulfill. Tokadizade Sekip[2] states that the door to being a dervish is open for everybody, but warns that this is the way of offering the soul to the Beloved and therefore requires sincerity and perfect goodness:

The door to the Truth is open to a wakeful person, But those who know how to sacrifice their souls can reach God. I have seen many who have come to this dervish convent, Willing and ready to sacrifice themselves on the way of truth.

The Prophet Abraham is an excellent example to remind one that reaching God is possible by sacrificing one’s soul in His way. He breasted the fire of Nimrod[3] in this way and, leaving his home and native land, set up his home in the desert. In utter submission to God, he took his wife and son and left them in a desolate valley. He offered the “fruit of his heart”-his son who had been bestowed on him in return for many years of desiring a son-to the Truth, as a sacrifice.[4] In short, he showed such resolution, power of will, and determination at every step, that except for the pride of humankind, he has no equal in human history. It is as if Sayyid Nigari[5] uttered the following couplet about him:

Does one who seeks the Beloved struggle for his own life? And can another who seeks his own life be in quest of the Beloved?

So, being a dervish means aspiring to be a hero of meeting with the Beloved, which signifies devoting one’s life to acquiring God’s good pleasure and approval in the consciousness of the meaning and purpose of the religious commandments. It has also been described as being in quest of the Truth under the guidance of love and zeal and by dominating one’s voice, heart, and carnal soul. This description is also significant. Riza Tevfik, a late Turkish poet and philosopher, presenting the characteristics of being a dervish, enlightens this point as follows:

Being a dervish means dominating one’s essence; One who is a captive of his ego is not a dervish. It is adopting love as a guide and finding God; It is not sweets, an axe, a staff, a needle or a skewer.

Do not sit absentminded in the name of devotion; Do not shout, nor dance violently, nor beat your breast! Nor foam by crying “O He, O All-Living!” Mentioning God is not a part of digestion.

Learn the secret about God from your heart; It is the heart which sees the Beloved through love. What causes a wakeful one with knowledge of God to feel that pleasure, Is not henbane, nor wine, nor opium, nor anything else.

Do not expect wonder from the stone of Najaf,[6] Nor separate from human beings, your brethren. You cannot see the Truth from graves or tombs; A true man of God is a sultan, not a hermit.

Everywhere are heaps of crude souls, What is your relation with them? Take refuge in your heart that tends to seclusion! The world is not as spacious as the heart.

In the beginning, a dervish is a student who studies theoretical knowledge; his or her practicing what is learned is representation; then, feeling and experiencing more deeply what is known and practiced-by each according to his or her capacity-is certainty. The first stage can also be regarded as theoretical Shari’a, the second as practical Shari’a, and the third as Shari’a experienced in truth. A traveler is a dervish during the whole of the journeying, through all of its stations, from the beginning to the end.

Some exacting scholars of Sufism regard being a dervish as an essential condition on the way to meet with God. According to them, being a dervish has the same meaning and importance for the cleansing of the carnal self, the refinement of heart, and the purification of spirit and its acquiring transcendence as treatment, diet and abstention from harmful habits, food and drink do for health. As a doctor’s advice is essential for the cure of diseases, spiritual diseases also require the advice and direction of a spiritual guide. The character of an individual is important in the diagnosis and treatment of bodily diseases, which is why modern medicine advises that every patient requires individual attention. This is also true for spiritual diseases and treatment. Each disease may require a treatment which is different, at least, in its details.

For example, for an initiate who cannot be saved from the pressure of corporeality or bodily desires, or reach the level of life lived in the heart and the spirit, austerity is essential. A guide who knows the person and can diagnose his or her disease well, will advise renunciation of the world and whatever in it relates to the pleasures of the worldly life. If the initiate has fully concentrated on the pleasures of the other world without considering the Truly Desired and Eternally-Besought One, the guide will urge renunciation of the other world with its pleasures and concentration on the Truth. If, on the other hand, neither the world nor the hereafter can keep an initiate from the main goal of the journeying, if both serve to improve concentration on eternity, the guide will open the doors on the world and the hereafter wide for the initiate. Concerning this, Jalal al-Din al-Rumi says:

The world means heedlessness of God; it does not mean possessing silver coins, clothes, or a family. Our Prophet praised wealth earned in lawful ways and used for the revival and uplifting of Islam, and said: “How good is any wealth earned in lawful ways for a righteous one!” If enough water finds its way into a ship, it causes it to sink, but if it is under the ship, it causes it to float. If you do not put the love of wealth in your heart, then you can swim safely in the ocean of spiritual journeying and initiation. True dervishes, from the time of Adam until today, have thought and acted in such a way. Even though they were not called dervishes, we can regard the People of the Suffa-the poor Companions who stayed in the antechamber adjacent to the Prophet’s Mosque in Madina-as the first dervishes of the Muslim Umma. They observed both the balance between the world and the hereafter and the Divine rights to a degree that no one else has been able to, and they became heroes of resignation (to God’s will).

After the Companions, all the people of journeying and initiation who have journeyed on the way to God under different titles, such as asceticism or Sufism or being a dervish, have performed great tasks, as if they were the soul and blood in the veins of the society, so long as they have had no interest in politics and concentrated all their efforts for belief in God’s Unity and maintaining the Islamic life in this belief. When they have acted to the contrary, they have both harmed society and ruined themselves.

Using being a dervish, which, in fact, is a state based on humility and a feeling of nothingness, for worldly benefits is such a means of contamination of the spirit that nothing other than a special Divine grace can clean it.

Let Mawlana Jalal al-Din al-Rumi have the last word:

A luxurious life is a shame on dervishes; a burden in their hearts. How nice is feeling destitute before Him; And being in need of Him on His way. For pomp and luxury on the way to the Beloved Are like thorns; they hurt the feet of dervishes.

O God! Make full of blessings my religious life, which is the guarantee of my innocence, and my other life, to which I am bound to go, and my world, in which I can be perfected.

And bestow Your blessings and peace on our master Muhammad, and on his family and the Companions altogether.

[1] Kawthar is the name of a river in Paradise.  [2] Tokadizade Sekip was one of the Turkish poets and writers who lived in Izmir in the first half of the 20th century. He wrote in favor of freedom during the reign of the Ottoman Sultan Abdulhamid II, and was one of the founders of the Association of Defending the Basic Rights in Izmir.  [3] Nimrod was the that was given to the Chaldaean kings in Iraq.  [4] Prophet Abraham, upon God’s command, left his elder son Ishmael in the valley of Makkah together with her mother Hagar.  [5] Seyyid Mir Hamza Nigari was a Sufi poet from Azerbaijan. He wrote lyrical poems to express God’s love.  [6] Najaf is a city in the southern Iraq, which bears holiness for the Shi’te Muslims. 

[fortifice]

His father’s tirades were often callous reminders that his children were thankless as they were negligent. all the assiduous work of their forefathers could be rendered nugatory by two children and their predilection for not adhering to his rules, failing to meet his expectations over and over. Those proud, detailed portraits lour at them as they are steered into their father’s study, his voice raucous as its timbre pitched higher and more fierce. They could not hope to fathom the importance of their family, their noble heritage more than a child’s mind could comprehend. Serval was obdurate, even at such a young age she would rebut without thinking of the repercussions, the punishments she received only served to harden her will not break her into a more congruous form. Gepard was quiet, reticent, in the long, commanding stretch of his sister’s shadow he was far more malleable, he would listen, learn, become what was intended of him. Their father had to appraise his children not as youths but as potential, they would be crafted to up hold their esteemed family’s banner, it was their destiny. Gepard never understood why his sister and father fought, often, he would cover his ears with cupped hands and drown out their ire. It didn’t make sense, that afternoon had teemed with so much delight that even Gepard had returned him with a brisk skip to his stride, his sister’s laughter dulcet. He had known they would get in trouble, they always did when they circumvented their father’s lessons but the joy had been so palpable that it had left him humming pleasantly. 

His sister knew a secret place, one where only children could go, the time permitted to adventuring was endless, there would be other kids like them there. The Landau siblings were familiar with the aristocratic circles of society but their children were always haughty and indifferent, forming any sort of meaningful bond with them felt impossible. His sister’s expression would often sour when their father suggested they make nice with the other children, they were always so boring she would say, he agreed because their glacial hostility made him balk. The children who played out on the old, scrap heap were excited just to meet new faces and quickly ushered Gepard into their game of kings and monsters. For the first time he wasn’t scolded for acting brazenly but encouraged to and as their narrative came to a conclusion he found his chest puffed out with pride as he guarded his pile of resplendent gems and gilded treasure, which was infact just tangled wire and metal scavenged from refuse. Serval fit the role of valiant princess much more than the insipid one of noble’s daughter, the children rallied behind her as she approached his den, the piece of wood she christened her blade lowered and pointed at her brother. He laughed, it sounded almost as arrogant as those other children, his hands poised on his hips as he barked “ You won’t take my treasure from me you..” he paused, considering how he should insult his elder sister “ fool !” and he waved his tiny clenched fist at her. Serval met the challenge by swiping her blade through the air, narrowing her frosty eyes and taking a confident step forward. “ It’s over for you dragon.” How could it be a bad thing, he thinks, as Serval bickers pointedly and his father glares down at her with contempt, if everyone else was having so much fun. “ You cannot be messing around with commoner’s children.” his father’s cadence is withering, his fury makes the room feel suffocatingly cold.  “ we didn’t hurt anyone, we were just playing.” she retaliates, her hands on her hips now as a defense, there’s no pride in that. They were just children after all, they didn’t know any better but what did better mean when the sliver of joy was pilfered by adult’s with selfish motives. “ I won’t hear another word of it.” he stands behind Serval in that moment and she is much like she was as a princess hardened by battle, a pillar of protection for any who gathered before her. The argument was over, their bedtimes would be straight after dinner and there was no more room for disagreement. As the two of them marched off to their room, Servals fists balled at her side, trembling, he felt like he did not understand how this was fair, that those children who had welcomed him so readily could be branded as unworthy. He wanted them as friends far more than he had ever wished for friendship from a noble’s child. He wants to ask her what it means - why they can’t but he can see his sister is on the verge of tears and it makes his chest tighten. How could their father believe something like that ? that those children could never be their friends. 

[silentknives]

Another successful hunt! Were it not for these two burly men with Emily, it would not have been so abundant. It’s challenging as it is to carry one deer onto her horse by herself. Now there’s enough for her weekly earnings AND everyone’s provisions.

Emily only met Charles a couple times before, both in dramatically contrasting circumstances. One in the middle of a gunfight and the other at a local saloon. With the very few interactions they’ve had so far, Emily thinks they get on pretty well. He’s definitely mild-mannered and not at all hostile towards her like the others. He was even kind enough to give her a few hunting tips she’d never thought of before—and she’s been in the trading business for years. She’s usually not very keen on meeting new people, so it’s refreshing to meet someone who’s not so indifferent towards her.

She and Arthur stay behind and bid Charles a farewell for the day. In doing so, however, Emily catches a distinct look on Arthur’s face. A distinct expression. Brown eyes glint a knowing, a longing only she can recognize. Something that’s been held so close and so dear to her heart. To see that in someone else rather than in herself, for once? It sparks a childlike joy within her.

Her gaze carefully shifts between the two men as they finish their conversation. Even as Charles leaves and grows smaller in the horizon, it seems Arthur keeps staring. She tilts her head curiously, amusingly, and a smile creeps between her lips. The smile grows more mischievous by the second, her hands resting on her hips.

“Damn, you gonna miss him that much?”

@gunslingcr​   —   plotted starter.

[nobedofroses]

Day 25: Punishment

pairing: Pero Tovar x fem!reader

warnings: spanking, feelings of shame, starts noncon and then turns into fully consensual at the end, also nothing sexual until the end. idk

words: 1.8k

a/n: basically Pero spanks reader against her will but then she’s into it? alsdkfjaldf theyre friends not strangers tho. inspo by outlander, so iykyk. also basta means enough in Spanish

Last, Full List, Next

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This way of life was new to you. Living in temporary camps and shelters, going for days without seeing any people aside from those in your party, not sleeping on a real bed except on rare occasions. But it was a decision you had made for yourself in order to make it to the neighboring country where your sister lived. With your parents both gone now, you wanted to be with family. 

You had found this traveling group by visiting your local inn and talking to the innkeeper about any groups passing through that would both be safe and welcoming to a woman joining their party. They were rough around the edges, apparently a couple had just left a mercenary life in favor of something more peaceful, but they were all indifferent at least and many were kind. 

There were men and women, no children, and when you had met them they were just starting a two week stay in your town to do some laboring and earn wages to sustain their travels. The women worked at the tavern connected to the inn, earning enough to pay for room and board for the entire party. (One or two had had some midday male guests in their rooms while their partners were out, but that's none of your business.) The men worked on nearby farms and were always sweaty and tired when they returned. 

You knew this because you spent at least an hour for dinner with people from the group, joining them at the inn. Making sure you knew everyone, everyone knew you, and asking any questions that you had for preparation was a big priority of yours and you stuck to it. You would arrive as the men did from the fields, and they would tromp up the stairs to the baths that awaited them in their rooms. 

The first day that you met some of them, a particular man had caught your eye. He was on the taller side, had broad shoulders, dark hair, a prominent nose, and a vertical scar over one of his eyes. Seeing him almost took your breath away, especially sweaty and in the thin clothes of a laborer, his muscles prominent after a hard day’s work. 

An introduction followed at dinner, and you learned his name was Pero and that he was a Spaniard. You weren’t sure what to expect when his eyes roved over your body upon first seeing you; his gaze was dark, but was that hostility or something else? 

Three weeks later, you still weren’t sure exactly what that look had been. While Pero had never been unkind to you, sometimes you still felt ill at ease around him because you just couldn’t figure him out. During the days he would be friendly and helpful, but at night he drew back. 

One time you had left the tent you shared with another woman, Ava, to refill your canteen and had thought it too much of a hassle to put your hair up again. Besides, you would only be outside for a few moments, and it was not as if you were living in the heights of propriety anyway. But then you had literally ran into Pero by accident and after he steadied you, he looked you over, scowled deeply, and turned away without a word. 

He had also scolded you a couple of times when you did something you were used to in a town that were apparently bad habits when traveling as you were. Things such as dumping the uneaten portion of your meal into the fire and using water to get a stain out of your dress. You learned quickly that both were unacceptably wasteful. 

However, those mistakes had been early on, and you hadn’t needed to be reprimanded again. By Pero or anyone else. 

Today, you had stopped after about five hours on the move to have food and let the horses rest. It was noon, and the sun beat directly overhead. Luckily you were currently traveling along the edge of a small forest and could retreat into the trees for some shade. 

You ate quickly, having another task in mind. Ava had been getting headaches at night sometimes, and you wanted to look for some willow trees to collect their bark so she could have some relief. After borrowing the little knife that Ava carried (yours had been chipped badly when you dropped it a couple times and you hadn’t asked Pero to sharpen it yet because you didn’t want another lecture), you headed into the woods on a little path that you had noticed earlier. 

It had only taken a little more than five minutes to find a willow tree to suit your needs, but it had taken about ten to harvest what you needed, wanting to get enough for multiple people but not wanting to harm the tree. 

When you were heading back down the trail, nearing the rest of the group, you heard your name. And not in a friendly call way, but a yelling, slightly worried, mostly angry way. And it was Pero’s voice. Fuck. 

Your stomach dropped, knowing he was going to be mad when he found you. But you also knew that it would be worse the longer you waited, so you called back, “Pero? I’m here!” 

In three seconds you saw him, saw him see you, saw him turn around a few paces and yell to someone, “I found her!” and then stomp his way all the way to you. 

“Where the hell have you been?” he wasted no time, able to see that you were unhurt just by looking you over. 

The back of your neck burned with embarrassment, anger, and something else you couldn’t place. “I was collecting willow bark for Ava!” 

“You need to tell people where you are going! What if something happened and no one knew where you were?” 

“Ava knew where I was!”

“No, she knew what you were doing. From now on, you need to get me when you leave the group. You are not allowed to be alone.” 

Your eyes widened and you breathed in sharply, “Excuse me? You cannot tell me what to do. You are not in control of my actions, you are not my father, nor my husband.” 

“You will do as I say.” 

“I will not.” 

There was an intense stare-off between the two of you. Neither one of you flinched or blinked or moved for several seconds. 

Then Pero growled, “Basta,” and grabbed your arm, dragging you further into the woods. You tried to pull away, but he held fast. He looked around, for what you didn’t know, and then abruptly turned off the path. 

You were trying to talk to him, to find out what he was doing, but he remained silent. Then you arrived at a large rock and he came to an abrupt stop. Still massively confused, that didn’t change as he sat down on it. 

Pero pulled you closer and then pulled you down, over his lap. You gasped, struggling against him again, but Pero was much stronger than you and held you fast. 

“Maybe you will do as I say if there are consequences when you do not,” was all he said before he raised his hand and brought it down hard on your bottom. 

Your skirts gave you a lot of padding, thankfully, but you were still so shocked that you cried out. 

“W-what are you doing? Pero, stop this! I am not a child! I—” you cut yourself off with a choked sound because he hit you again, and kept going. 

More struggling would’ve been fruitless, so you just grit your teeth and tried to bear it. After ten hard swats, you let out a noise between a whine and a whimper, starting to feel more pain, a stinging that lasted between the hits. 

Pero stopped for a second, his hand resting on your lower back, “Are you ready to stop? Will you do as I say?” 

You huffed and shook your head, “I don’t care what you do. I don’t have to listen to you.” 

“Fine.” 

Foolishly, you thought for a moment that he was finished. That he had given up. But then you felt your skirts start to move and felt Pero’s hand, warm from impact, slide up the back of your legs. 

Your breath caught and your whole body grew hot. The spanking had been infuriating, but that had at least been over your clothes. This touch was more than improper, his hand was nearly to your arse itself. And while you were wearing drawers and slitted skirts with extra fabric so you didn’t have to ride sidesaddle, they were thin and would not protect you as well from his hand as your skirts had. 

In hopes that it would make things more bearable, you took a deep breath. Just as his fingers pulled at the drawers until they rode up, exposing the flesh of each cheek to the open air. You froze. Couldn’t even think. 

And then he spanked you again. It was so much more painful now. You were already slightly sore from the first round, and now there was no buffer between his skin and yours. You could feel the rough calluses on his fingers as they smacked against your skin and the feeling brought a strange heat to your lower stomach. A heat that spread down between your thighs. 

You had felt this before, had felt in connection with Pero, but normally you were able to remove yourself from the cause until you stopped feeling it, either from time itself or from your hand’s work between your thighs. This was obviously not the case now. 

The shame and confusion of feeling this way while he was punishing you distracted you from anything else, including tempering your reactions. One particular spank jolted your whole body forward and you moaned before you even knew you wanted to. Your eyes filled with embarrassed tears. 

Something that had been pressing into your side suddenly grew harder and larger and you realized that it had not been his belt buckle. 

Two more swift hits landed on your arse, making you moan again, still beyond your control, and a stray tear ran down your face. But then Pero’s hand smoothed over your stinging skin briefly, fixed your drawers, and pulled down your skirts. 

“It is nearly time to start riding again. I believe you have learned your lesson and will do as I say?” 

Too ashamed of your reckless desire to contradict him again, you nodded silently. He helped you to stand and then stood himself, but grabbed your arm, gently this time, to prevent you from walking. 

Even though you did not meet his eyes, Pero understood this and spoke anyway, knowing he still held your attention. “That is, unless you think you need another lesson tonight?” 

You looked up, seeing that dark glint in his eye and finally understood what it meant. You nodded again. 

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