#but I’m throwing religion at him full speed

[foolsocracy]

I love hearing your thoughts relating judaism to Noir Peter, it's really cool!!!

!!! Thank you so much!! I’m actually super relieved to know that. I’m glad u like it :,,]

Jewish Peter isn’t an uncommon headcanon at all but I still get cold feet about posting about it in decent depth. I feel like a lot of religious discussion can make some people wary, but I find religion really fascinating and a great way to apply further context to things, so I like to post about it anyway lol. And I figured someone might like it as much as I do, so here we are!!

[regina-del-cielo]

Immortal Siblings AU | Four, then three, then four again

I mentioned that the bulletpoint post describing how the Guard from the Immortal Siblings AU found Joe had totally run away from me. It has, in fact, become a study on them grieving over Lykon and then finding Yusuf. 

I have, somehow, reached a sort of natural end to the amount of bullshit my mind can add to this list/fic draft. So, if you want to give it a read... grab a snack. It’s long. I’m sorry.

Warnings for Wikipedia levels of historical accuracy - I added links to the relevant pages when quoting historical events, but since I was just trying to work out a timeline (famous last words), the research wasn’t extensive. There’s a lot of hand-waving.

By the end of the 11th Century, I think Andy, Quynh and Nico haven’t been in Europe for a while, not really. They moved south, and then east, after the sack of Rome of 410 CE. Seeing the great cities fall has become hard for them, especially for Nico, who is a nomad at heart but has a soft spot for cities, together with Lykon, the true city boy in the group. He’d seen it happen to Athens, he wasn’t sure he could deal with seeing Rome wilt.

For reasons I cannot fathom, my mind is settled on them having been in India when Lykon dies (possibly sometime around the middle of the 6th century, in the mess that was the crumbling of the Gupta Empire???)

Seeing him die destroys them, and they take a break from any battlefield to grieve their friend and brother. They wander, occasionally helping but almost never raising their weapons, too leery of injuries and of losing each other.

(Quynh, who was the first to notice Lykon’s wounds, has nightmares that make her cry in her sleep. Andromache holds her so tight Nico can feel the tension on her muscles against his back. He and his sister barely sleep, scared of the open spaces of Asia as they’d never been before. Lykon was the youngest of them and he died, what if they stop healing too?)

(If Nico stands guard over his sisters and feels an ache in his chest seeing how they hold onto each other, he’s never going to say it out loud. His Mache deserves the love she shares with Quynh. But sometimes he wishes he had someone to hold him like that, one he can call his heart.)

The first time they go to battle again like in the old days it’s almost the end of the 10th century, and they’re helping Quynh’s lands gain independence from China. They have a reason and a specific side to root for, and it’s the kind of cause Lykon would have approved of. They find purpose again.

They are distantly aware of how things are holding up in the west – they know Constantinople has crowned itself capital of the Roman Empire (what is left of it anyway); they know of the new religion, Islam, and how it was brought further east with the armies conquering Persia. They met the Varangians on the Northern Plains of the Rus’, when Andy insisted on going back to their steppes for a while.

They acquire new swords, repair the old weapons, make improvements on their bows. They travel, and help, and listen. They learn new languages. They heal.

They’ve just spent the winter in Samarkand when they hear merchants newly come from Constantinople talk about the Frankish armies that took Antioch and making their way further into Palestine. 

The words ‘freeing Jerusalem from the infidels’ make Andy sigh in exasperation and twist Nico’s guts. The three of them don’t really understand the point of going to war for a god, but Jerusalem is old, and she’s been coveted by many throughout their long lives. Things like this never end well, they know it intimately.

But they’ve been away for a long time, centuries at this point. Things are very different from when the Romans had the power. They are less eager to throw themselves into the battlefield now, and there’s much they don’t know about the dynamics of Europe and the Levant. Still they’re worried, and decide that they’ll move west to see if something can be done, for the civilians at least.

At first they travel slowly, keeping an ear out for gossip spoken by the caravans coming from the west. Things radically change, however, when they dream of a new immortal (a man, with a curly black beard and shining dark eyes) dying on the walls of Jerusalem and reviving to an unprecedented slaughter – said man is, obviously, absolutely terrified and they feel it.

He’s also woken up surrounded by living enemies, with high risk of being killed or injured multiple times, and of being seen.

They are still too far away to do anything more than hope that the new guy is clever enough to keep himself alive until they can reach him, but now Nico is all for moving west at full speed to get him out.

“What the everloving FUCK is happening over there?!” is the common theme in their thoughts; nothing about this war they’re walking towards is making any sense.

Yusuf al-Kaysani is, in fact, clever enough to keep himself (and a few other civilians to boot) alive and get out of Jerusalem when it becomes clear than no matter how many Franks he kills he can do nothing to stop them alone. (It’s a fucking carnage, and he’s so tired). He walks away from the battle and tries to reach some sort of safety in the desert.

When he’d decided to stay in Jerusalem and fight instead of escaping the siege, Yusuf had considered the possibility of dying. He had not accounted for waking up from a fatal wound with no sign of having been hit in the first place.

And then there are the visions. Or dreams, he’s not sure. They don’t seem to make any sense? Who are those people?! Is his mind so addled by the war that he’s conjuring scary warrior women and a stupidly handsome man, armed to the teeth and camping in the desert?

(fantasizing about handsome men in his sleep isn’t exactly news for him, but there were never women in those. And none of his usual dreams involved weapons. Something is definitely off)

For the following days, Yusuf makes sure to stay away from human settlements while putting as much space as possible between Jerusalem and himself – the last thing he needs is to become a potential target for any invader that may cross his path.

But he’s alone, having nightmares, constantly on edge, and in a body that suddenly doesn’t feel like his own anymore, since he doesn’t even have the scars to prove that the injuries he sustained were real to begin with.

After a couple of weeks, the appearance of the strangers in his dreams starts feeling safe and comforting; they seem to operate like a little family, and God knows how much he misses his own.

(should he try to go back home? Would news of the siege reach his family before he does? Would he be able to go back to his previous life in the state he’s in? Could he keep this secret from them? Would they still love him or think him a monster?)

Despite their impressive warrior appearance, they feel... kind. And gentle. Sometimes, it feels like they’re trying to reassure him, even. Especially when he dreams from the perspective of the man.

The sensation those dreams leave on his skin is like a cape. You’re not alone, it whispers. Wait for us.

Andy, Quynh and Nico have just left Baghdad when the dreams change, and not for the better - Yusuf was passing through a village when a band of marauding Franks started harassing the locals. He moved to defend the villagers, but was overwhelmed and what’s worse, the Franks saw his wounds close too fast. Their reaction was vehement: they called him a demon, incapacitated him and then brought him back to their garrison, with every intention of ‘properly getting rid of him’.

Nico wakes up screaming and Andy has to sit on him so he doesn’t just sprint ahead without actually knowing where the fuck he’s going.

“We can’t just raid every single Frankish encampment in a twenty mile radius around Jerusalem, Nico!” “TRY ME” *Aggressive Sibling Bickering follows* *Quynh doesn’t bat an eye and just rolls out a map of the area she purchased and starts mapping out the fastest routes*

Yusuf is having a Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week at the hands of his captors, who are getting disturbingly creative in their tortures, but whenever they let him fall unconscious he sees the people of his dreams travelling much faster than before, looking Royally Pissed Off, and the surroundings are... starting to look familiar too? 

If he tries to pay more attention to the conversations his torturers are having with each other outside of the tent he’s in and hoping the dreams go both ways, so the maybe-real trio can find him easier, now that’s nobody’s business but his own.

(spoiler: it works)

When they are in sight of Jerusalem, the immortals find a drunk “pilgrim” boasting about his band capturing a ‘pagan demon’ while coming back from their victory at Ascalon, follow him back to his camp, and as soon as it’s feasible they attack.

(Andy will later gripe that Nico didn’t leave her anything to do because he just paved his way through the Franks like he was harvesting wheat.)

seeing the Stupidly Handsome Man of his dreams standing in front of him covered head to toe in blood, with a double-bladed axe in one hand and a sword in the other, staring intensely at him as if to peer directly into his soul is... an experience for Yusuf.

(he may have composed a lot of poems about that first vision of Nico through the centuries. The words ‘avenging angel’ have been used quite profusely, too)

The protective instinct that Nico has felt for the newest immortal since the first dream clutches at his throat when he finally sees him, chained to a pole and so thin his clothes barely cling to his body, but with the softest dark eyes staring back with a glint of recognition when he comes closer.

(he could cry with relief at the knowledge that he’s not scared of him. Nico has seen the faces of the men that were keeping him captive, he knows he looks a lot like they did, and that he paints a gruesome picture.)

“Are you alright?” Nico asks first, in Greek. (He knows, from the dreams, that his captors prayed in Latin. He wants to make sure that the other knows that he’s not like them.)

“You were in my dreams. You came.” Yusuf answers back in the same language, although his sounds much newer than Nico’s.

“Of course. We’re not meant to be alone… and no one deserves to be in a cage”.

Nico uses the axe to break the chains, and by the time he’s done Andy and Quynh have reached them and his sister throws the keys at him to open the shackles.

“Couldn’t take a moment to get them yourself, little eagle? You wanted to show off your skills to the new one?” Quynh teases, just to see Nico blush. Andy stares at her brother and their new companion for a few beats, before finally asking his name.

“Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad Al-Kaysani, known as al-Tayyib” he answers, letting out the first smile in weeks at the raising eyebrows of his saviours. “Just Yusuf is fine.”

“You have a sense of humour, brother. I like you!” Andy snorts, before cutting her palm with the edge of her axe, and showing him her fast healing.

“We are like you, Yusuf. That’s why you dreamt of us, and we of you” Nico adds gently, while Quynh offers her waterskin to Yusuf. They also offer their own names.

“We need to clean up this mess and move away from here” Andy says, while Nico helps Yusuf up. “One of those fuckers was boasting about an undying demon with others in a tavern, the last thing we need is to fight our way out against their whole army because someone else decided to come check if he was saying the truth.”

“It’s been a long time since we were in Kush” Quynh whispers, and Yusuf sees their faces open in a look of affectionate grief he remembers seeing on his Baba’s eyes when he talked about his own mother.

“We can talk about it more when we’re somewhere safer” Andromache suggests, before moving to set up the stage of an ‘accidental’ fire.

As they’re riding away, Yusuf turns slightly to watch the camp burn, leaving no trace of the invaders that hurt him. Jerusalem looms in the distance - lost, and wounded. If he were a little less exhausted, he could  easily work out a metaphor about his own situation.

But then he looks at the three people of his dreams – Quynh, Andromache, Nikolaos – that came for him. Who are the same as him, immortal.

His world has turned upside down, and there are so many questions to ask, and he could sleep for a month straight – but one thing is certain. 

He’s not alone anymore.

[candychronicles]

elysian // s. daichi

A/N: my take on the Haikyuu Headquarters mythology nsfw collab! this was my first time writing for Daichi. i took a greek myth route and had so much fun!!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Daichi Sawamura x F!reader

WORD COUNT: 2,859

WARNINGS: manipulation, oral (F!receiving), mentions of several religions

SYNOPSIS: all your life you had been fighting only to end up at a boring 9-5 with nowhere to turn. Daichi has a proposition and you accept without realizing the consequences. 

Want to read more myths and legends? Click here! 

you were always fascinated with the idea of something larger than you, something so fantastical and great that it consumed the earth over and over again. while many people turned to other religions or no religion at all, satiating their own desires for redemption, love and acceptance, you chose to dig deeper, look at what truly resonated with your life and dutifully settled upon the greek gods. 

they didn’t sugarcoat the bad things they did, that they used their power any way they pleased, that they were stronger, faster and larger than life. they were powerful gods who held powerful positions and were unpredictable, wild and fluid in their dance with humanity. you admired the stories from years ago of how they defeated the titans and split the land between the three sons: the skies for Zeus, the seas for Poseidon and the underworld for Hades. 

Hades had always spoken to you in a way you couldn’t describe. when you worshipped him needing guidance, offering him dark chocolate and sweet, rich red wines, he complied with very little hesitation, always wanting to seemingly please you as long as you kept up your worshipping of him. he became quite moody, jealous and wouldn’t want to talk to you for days if you spent too much time interacting with the other gods. to be frank, you loved the attention he showered you with and felt at ease knowing he would protect you for life.

sighing, you pulled your apron tight around your waist, ready for another day at work slinging coffees and cakes to the less than pleasant customers that walked through the door. being a barista seemed like fun in cliche stories and movies but it was actually just another job that got you through your boring summer. 

it only took an hour before people began screaming and shouting, angry at your lack of speed and pleasant smile on your face. it was just you and two other people there serving a line of ten plus at any given time and while you all tried your best, things never seemed to go the way they were planned.

“one large coffee, black.”

you took a deep breath before plastering a smile on your face, giving the man with the honey sweet voice a price and looking up, the smile threatening to spill onto your cheeks as you recognized Daichi, one of your favorite customers and now good friends.

“thought you might need one friendly face among the crowd of crazy,” he joked, tapping his sleek black credit card against the machine to pay, making sure to leave a hefty tip before nodding and walking away.

he sat for another two hours in the shop, nursing on his coffee and working on his laptop as he waited for you to get a break. when the line finally died down, your rushed from behind the counter and plopped yourself down in the booth across from him.

“what brings your handsome face around here?” you asked, tapping your feet against the ground as the anxiety of the day began to wear off.

“coming to see you as always,” he replied smoothly, downing the last of his coffee before placing the cup back on the table.

“you haven’t been around for awhile,” you pouted, not caring that you sounded desperate.

“i’m sorry but you know work can get oddly busy at times. how about i make it up to you? dinner, tonight at seven? my treat, anywhere you want to go.”

you gaped at him, not sure of what to say. you two had been flirting for months, the only friendly face you had really seen outside of the occasional older lady who always bought you a snack or drink for being so kind and patient with them. he was always sweet as candy, sugary words viscously flowing out of his mouth. at first you thought he was just some tightwad business man looking to get into your pants but as you got to know him, you realized he was just naturally kind, always looking out for the underdog. he treated you with the respect and decency that you deserved and maybe you were just so used to being treated like shit most of the time but his upfront and honest nature just blew you away.

before you had a chance to even reply, he looked at his phone, frowned and stood up.

“i’ll see you at seven, text me your address, yeah?”

with that and a gentle caress of your chin, he practically dissolved into thin air. you blinked once, twice, three times trying to process what had just happened before digging into your pocket to text him your address, not even remembering giving him your number but sure enough, there he sat in your contact with a simple flower next to his name.

the rest of the day went by in a blur and before you knew it, you were sitting on your couch, donned in your best dress, sparkling earrings dangling from your ears and shiny jewels adorning your body. you frowned as you checked the time, noticing it was already ten past seven. just as you were about to give up, you received a text from Daichi.

i’m sorry princess. something big came up at work. i’ll make it up to you. first thing in the morning, dress for the outdoors and bring a jacket, it’ll be a bit chilly where we’re going. i’ll see you then.

you huffed, throwing your phone down on the couch before stuffing your face in your hands, trying not to cry. you began methodically undressing yourself, taking off all your accessories and makeup, barely listening to the TV in the back drone on about some factory explosion that had happened in the next town over, killing two hundred people practically at once. you stopped to share some of the jewels with Hades, lighting his black flame and watching it dance in excitement, thanking him for never leaving you, even in the harshest of times. with all the makeup off, the dress peeled from your body and your shiny jewels laid on the table, you collapsed in bed, too tired and confused to dress yourself again.

a knock on the door had you scrambling off of your bed, hurrying to find a robe before peeking through the peephole to see who woke you up at such an early time on your rare day off. your eyes widened in surprise before squeaking, peeling the door open just a pinch to greet Daichi who held a rather large bouquet of flowers in his hand, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and squinting his eyes as he held the petals out towards you.

“Daichi, i-”

“i’m real sorry about last night. crazy last minute meeting, totally unexpected. i promised i’d make it up to you though, right?”

you opened the door to him at that, blushing when you realized you were only in your robe before practically sprinting to your bedroom to begin getting ready. when you were ready, jacket in hand, you walked back out, a sheepish smile on your face.

“i uh, really didn’t think you would be here in the morning. thought you were just trying to lead me on or something,” you confessed.

“now doll, i think you know me better than that by now,” he chastised, standing up from your couch to offer you his arm.

you took it instantly, a bounce in your step as you followed him out of your apartment, listening to the door close with a resounding thud. 

it took only a few minutes before you were sat in his sleek black car practically oozing with the feeling of money. you gingerly sat down in the leather seats, instantly feeling drowsy. shaking your head, you tried to fight it off but was stopped by Daichi.

“it’ll be a little bit of a drive before we get to where we’re going. you can take a nap, it’s okay. i’m a safe driver. i promise i won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

with his soothing words, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, allowing yourself to be completely relaxed in his presence.

a small jerk woke you up and you blinked, looking out the window to see fields and fields of picture perfect flowers. you were practically surrounded by them, the only clearing being the dirt road you came on and patch of grass leading up to a hill.

“Daichi…” you breathed, speechless by the beauty of the location.

“c’mon, lets eat.”

you practically scurried out of the car, eyes wide as you continued to scan your surroundings. he dutifully began taking the picnic out of the car, setting down the blanket, basket, food and drink in a tasteful and elegant way. you absolutely melted seeing all the delicious food that was laid out for you. before you had a chance to eat, however, Daichi grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his arms and looking you in the eyes.

“y’know, i’ve been absolutely fascinated with you since the first day i met you, all doe-eyed and innocent. the world has knocked you down so many times and yet you still get back up to fight another day. tell me, if i offered you a life of luxury, of eternal peace, full of love and richness, never having to work a day in your life if you didn’t want to, would you take it?”

you were taken aback by his words, not understanding where they were coming from. sure, you two had spent so much time chatting at your coffee shop, sharing your hopes and dreams with him, confiding in him like you would no one else, but you didn’t realize he had taken it all to heart, that he had actually fallen in love with you like you him. you didn’t even realize in that moment that you had even really loved him until he said those words, looked deep into your soul like he knew everything about you and then some.

“i mean, if you’re offering, yeah, i think i’d like a life like that, but maybe once i got to know you first,” you only half joked, wanting to know more about him, a sucker for an idyllic life.

“just say yes and you can spend all the time in the world getting to know me.”

“yes, Daichi, i would take it in a heartbeat.”

he surged forward with that, lips attaching to your own with such ferocity that you weren’t even sure what to do. he tasted like rich chocolate, wine and coffee, a delicious medley on your tongue as you reacted on instinct alone. something about this, with him, felt so right. your head was muddled with thoughts of Daichi and only Daichi, a man who was so mysterious and yet so supportive, always there when you needed him, seemingly popping up out of the blue on your worst days. listening to your problems with a frown on his face, doing everything he possibly could to make you feel better, never overstepping his boundaries and cherishing the time you spent together like there was no tomorrow.

he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as he took you to the ground, flowers crunching around your body as he laid on top of you, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin of your neck, relishing in the way you went breathless just from his lips alone.

“tell me that you want me, that you need me, that you worship me, that i’m the only man you’ll ever need,” he commanded, popping the buttons open on your shirt and ravishing your chest, tweaking your bare nipples in his hands, the cold shocking you to the core.

“you’re all i’ll ever need, Daichi,” you confirmed, too consumed in your own pleasure, wanting to feel more and more of him until he was all you could think of.

“let me take care of you princess.”

with that, he delicately pulled your shirt off, your pants coming down next, your underwear not receiving such a kind fate as they were cruelly ripped off your body. you gasped as you felt his hot breath on your thigh, squirming underneath his touch, the way his tongue danced along your inner thigh, flesh sinking in between his teeth. you whined at the way his cold fingers ghosted over your clit, just barely there but enough to make you go crazy.

“Daichi, please, i need you, please.”

he complied without resistance, his tongue darting out to kitten lick your clit, relishing in the way you instantly melted underneath his touch. you were absolutely enraptured with the way he felt against your body, the cool of his hand tracing seemingly meaningless patterns against your silky inner thigh, his other sinking into your heat, enveloping his digits with warmth, something he rarely felt, his tongue licking and sucking on your bud like your life depended on it. it was all too much, the feeling of him on top of you, doting on you like you were everything to him and you came suddenly, pulsating around his fingers, your own carded in his hair to ground yourself, tears leaking out of your eyes at the sheer feeling of him, only him.

he slowly calmed you down from your high, eyes never leaving his body as his fingers gently continued to pump in and out of you, his other hand continuing to soothe your body, kisses placed anywhere he could reach. when you were finally calm, he removed his fingers, still cold despite the warmth the received, and licked them clean, watching as your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the sight of him worshipping you.

“let’s get you cleaned up and get some food in you, yeah?”

he spent the next few minutes gently wiping you off, dressing you back in most of your clothes sans the underwear he destroyed, a sheepish and apologetic smile on his face as he promised to buy you a new pair, no matter the price. you shrugged your jacket on over your shoulders, finally noticing how cold it was, a chill running straight to your core as you tightened clothing around you.

after a few moments of catching your breath, you stood up with the help of Daichi, walking over to the picnic and sitting down, mouth drooling at the sight of food, suddenly ravenous.

“were you really serious about saying yes, about being mine forever?”

“like i said Daichi, i do want to get to know you better, but i can’t deny i’m not falling in love with you. something about you feels familiar, like you’ve been with me my whole life, like you know me better than i know myself. i feel so comfortable and safe around you. so yes, call me a dumb romantic, but i was serious about that.”

with a satisfied nod, he began feeding you, watching you closely as you swallowed food after food, a delighted smile on your face. you felt stronger, more relaxed, less cold and certainly happier eating and drinking, taking the time to really talk to Daichi, learn about him, his thoughts and feelings, some of his tragic past and your heart hurt more and more as you listened to him.

when all was said and done, you stood up, wiping the crumbs off your body as looked at Daichi, a smile plastered on your face.

“when are you taking me home?” you questioned, looking around the field to see if you could spot anything else to do.

“well, my dear, whenever you’re ready, i’ll show you your new home right away. after all, what kind of king would i be if i didn’t let my queen see her palace right away?”

“what?” you questioned, looking at him quizzically. 

when he stood up, you noticed the whole mood had shifted and so did the world. the flowers, as bright and beautiful as they were, were no longer illuminated by a brilliant sun but rather a striking moon, darkness encircling your very body. you felt cold and yet not cold at all, like it was a very part of your being. Daichi seemed to stand immortally tall before you, an air of authority that was not there before. beautiful houses scattered the flowerbeds, people milling about, people from stories you had read to soothe yourself to sleep as you dreamt of one day being a hero of your own.

“Daichi, what is going on?” you asked, frightened and confused.

“well, doll, i did ask you several times to make sure but i knew in my heart that you would come to accept and eventually love this life as i have,” he started, gesturing for you to turn around to look out behind you, a whole world opening up in front of your eyes, “this is the underworld, i am Hades, you’re currently in the Elysian Fields, now that you ate the food down here, you are an immortal part of me and this, my queen, is your new home.” 

[cygnetofthesea]

Welcome Home, Part 1: Élite Fanfiction

This fic was inspired and dedicated to @sweetpeony200​ and the request for a Guznadia reunion in NYC. Thank you for the inspiration!! It’s not quite what was asked, so apologies for that! (Hopefully @jasminejc4525​ writes her version 👀 ) The writing ran away from me and I couldn’t help but delve into Guzman’s psyche. I love doing character studies so this was a way for me to explore the complexities of Guzman’s mind and emotions. I hope to write a second part with more of their reunion, more of their present-day interaction the day Guzman arrives. Hope this part is still enjoyable until then! <3 Part of the Moments Series.

Guzman sat still with his eyes closed, the picture of calm if anyone looked over at him, but inside his was an anxious mess. He wasn't a nervous flyer by any means as he's gone on countless trips overseas throughout his short life, but this was no ordinary flight and he was no longer that ordinary boy.

This was the flight that was taking him toward the rest of his life.

The past few months without Nadia had been unbearable. He had known it was going to be difficult but he hadn't been prepared for the constant tightness that sat on his chest. The only thing that loosened it was Nadia, talking to her, face-timing her, texting her. Every time he saw her name or face on his screen, his chest swelled with elation instead of pain.

It was with Nadia's absence that Guzman was forced to confront the pain that haunted him from Marina and Polo's death. He felt that out-of-body experience all too often, every morning waking up to a sense of loss and confusion. His sister was dead, his best friend had murdered her, and now that best friend was murdered too. It was too much for him to comprehend, his mind twirling with the reality of it because it just didn't feel real, couldn't be real.

But it was.

Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the ashen face that became almost unrecognizable to him. He didn't know how it was possible to be still standing in the wake of all this grief.

It was Nadia who had made him feel human, who had centered him, quelled the raging storm inside of him enough to feel alive. Her simple presence felt like a balm to his soul, brought peace to his mind and combated the pain, the incomprehensible thoughts as he tried to make sense of his life.

It was with her Guzman felt like he could deal with everything. She was the tether that brought him  to life and snapped him back to reality. Guzman had always been intrigued by her, since the first moment he set eyes on her simply because of the utter calm and resolve she emitted.

She was this young girl of sixteen and yet he carried herself with a sense of resolve and strength that was unlike anything he had seen in even some adults. Even Lu, who he believed to be tough, wasn't anything like Nadia, didn't nearly compare because it was Lu's privilege that gave her that strength. She was born into a world where everything was handed to her, her every desire was at her fingertips, effortless.

But Nadia wasn't like that. Not by a long shot. She worked hard for everything, every single step she took was a battle for her because of her race, her religion, her gender, her socioeconomic standing. She had everything working against her and yet she weathered through it, pushing her way not by aggression or iniquitous means but with a quiet fierceness, a calm gait.

He had to admit, his attraction to her was instant. That had been quite unexpected in of itself and it caught him completely off guard, but it was undeniable. He was pulled in by her demeanor, completely and utterly intrigued by her. He wanted to unwrap her, metaphorically and literally. He wanted to uncover the complexities of her, what gave her that strength, what made her happy, what made her laugh. And then as soon as that thought entered his mind, he knew he needed to see it, to hear it.

What did Nadia Shana's laughter sound like? What did her smiling eyes look like? Particularly, what did her soft eyes and smile look like when it was directed at him? And when by some miracle he managed to achieve that smile, he was addicted, pulled even deeper into her. He was lost and in love before he even knew it was happening. 

If he thought it was a miracle that he made her smile, he didn’t know what to call her falling in love with him, her actually wanting and agreeing to be with him. Perhaps it was some divine intervention. Perhaps God had decided that he finally earned her love, that he had suffered enough and deserved something beautiful and miraculous. That she was meant to be his savior all along. Nadia Shana saved so many simply by existing. 

And now as the eight hour flight was coming to a close, he couldn’t believe he was going to be reunited with his miracle at long last. He felt like at any moment he would open his eyes and wake up in bed with a heavy heart full of longing and tired, wet eyes. He opens his eyes now at the thought, wanting to get the disappointment over with, but instead of finding himself in bed, he’s met with the sign that reads Fasten Seat belt. 

It flashes red just as a ding overhead sounds. 

“Attention passengers, we are now approaching JFK airport. Please fasten your seat belt in preparation for the descent. Thank you for flying Air Eropa, we hope you had a pleasant trip.”

 Guzman takes a deep breath, his sweaty hands immediately fastening his seatbelt. His heart is racing in anticipation and impatience. His leg bounces erratically as he looks out the window as though somehow he’d be able to spot Nadia from such great heights. He’s momentarily distracted by the view but soon wonders if Nadia was already waiting for him or perhaps she was still on her way. 

He switches out the SIM card from his phone for the one Nadia had mailed him a week before so that he could call her as soon as he landed. He remembered the day he saw it in their mailbox. He knew to expect because Nadia had already given him the heads up, they had been making all the arrangements for weeks at that point, but he wasn’t any less excited when he saw it. 

He had torn through the package that had her neat handwriting on it and wanted to immediately switch out the SIM cards but she had teased him it wouldn’t work. 

“An American SIM isn’t going to do you much good in Madrid,” Nadia had giggled. 

Guzman shrugged with a tilt of his head. “I know but I’m excited. I feel like I’m one step closer to you and I can’t wait until you’re in my arms.”

She had looked at him softly, a wistful smile on her face. “I know what you mean. I can’t wait either.”

Before he knows it, the plane lands and Guzman is out of his seat and grabbing his carry-on in record speed. His strides are long and fast and he feels like he’s practically flying at the rate he’s going. He can’t see anything in his periphery, his eyes ahead and only looking around to make sure he’s going to the right place. 

He calls her as soon as he can, finally putting the new SIM card to use. The phone rings for a long and excruciating minute. His heart begins to sink when he hears the click on her beautiful voice on the other end. 

“Guzman,” she says breathlessly as though she had been running. “Are you here? I just saw your flight landed.”

His stomach does a somersault, a beaming smile across his face. “Yeah, I just picked up my suitcase. Are you here?”

Nadia lets out an astonished laugh. “You’re really here? Where?”

Guzman looks around. “I’m by the Emirates line, where it says terminal 7.”

“I’m looking for you.”

His heart gallops in his chest and he sounds winded when he asks, “You’re here?”

“When you say ‘here’ you better mean JFK airport because that’s where I am now.”

Guzman spins in place, one hand on his suitcase and the other pressing his phone tightly to his ear. He can hear his own heavy breath loud in his ear.

“Yes, this is definitely JFK airport,” he laughs, looking at the crowd. He even spots a film crew on the other side and remembers how Nadia said it was a popular site for tv shows and films. That was probably why it was especially crowded and hard to see around the bodies. 

Nadia lets out her own excited laugh. “I see you! You’re wearing your green jacket, the one with the orange lining inside, the one I gave you.”

The excitement mounts inside of him, he feels like his heart would either burst out of him or he would throw up right then. 

“Yes! Yes, I’m wearing your jacket. You can see me? Where are you?”

“I’m coming toward you. Turn around.”

He whirls around and there she was, his eyes immediately finding her. It was as though time had stopped and everything, everybody had ceased to exist and there was only her. Nadia, Nadia, Nadia….

In every scenario he imagined, he had run toward her. No matter how wild his imagination, In every single version of his reunion with her, there was running involved: he’d see her as soon as he got off the plane, waiting for him at the tarmac and he’d run to her, their eyes would meet across the the luggage pick-up and he’d jump across and run to her, they’d see each other across the airport and run to each other, colliding until they fell to the ground.

But here, in this moment now, he was stunned. He wasn’t prepared for the breadth of her beauty so close to him, just mere steps away. It was almost overwhelming, his senses anticipating her, his mind unable to comprehend that she was here, that in just moments he would be able to not only hear and see her but actually touch her, smell her, feel her, kiss her...even make love to her if she was so inclined. 

His arm falls to his side, limply holding his phone and his breath is caught in his throat as he stares at her in awe. She felt like a mirage but her sparkling eyes are drawing closer, closing the distance between them. She stops just inches away from him, a soft, achingly beautiful smile on her face that he feels his chest hurt at the sight. 

She’s the first one to speak. “Hey.”

And just like that, he’s snapped back to reality, the emotions falling over him in one fell sweep that he feels like he’d buckle under the weight but instead he pulls her into his arms, holding onto her to tether him. 

“Nadia.” His voice comes out in a choked sob and it’s only then he realizes that he’s crying.

He feels her warm body against him, soft and familiar and he finally feels what he’s been missing all along: home. 

He wraps his arms around her tightly, encasing her and holding her close as though trying to meld their bodies together. 

“Nadia.”

“Guzman.”

He buries his face in her neck, feeling the coolness of her silk hijab and the warmth from her skin simultaneously, the sensation so familiar and glorious he can’t help leaning heavily against her.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he croaks. 

“I’ve missed you too.”

He pulls back slightly and catches her glittering eyes. She lets out a wet chuckle and wipes his cheeks with both hands. “I’ve missed this face.”

She leans in and kisses his damp skin and his eyes flutter close as he kisses his eyes next, basking in her touch even as it makes him breathless. 

“Oh god, I love you.”

He lets out a ragged breath and pulls her lips to his before she can even respond, unable to hold off any longer. He needs to feel her, taste her and god, does she taste divine. He doesn’t mean to get carried away but the full weight of reality hits him: she’s really here in his arms, he’s not going to wake up because this isn’t a dream. 

He kisses her hard, cupping the back of her head as it leans back against the force of his lips. His tongue slides against her desperately again and again, needing to breathe her in, needing her taste to fill him up because he has been hungry for so long, starving for her touch and he can’t get enough. 

He wants to slide his lips against more skin, find the soft spot behind her ear that he knows makes her weak, before sliding down her throat, his tongue tracing the skin there. He wants to grip her until her clothes fall away and there’s nothing left but her skin against his.

He’s so desperate for her he feels he could weep and almost does when she pulls away with a gasp. He chases her lips with a soft whine at the back of his throat. “Nadia,” he pants, looking at her with hooded eyes. 

Her eyes are just as intense but with a shyness that he certainly didn’t have. He had no qualms showing all his love for her for the world to see. 

She slides her hand down to his chest to halt any further movement with a soft smile. “I love you too. Let’s go home,” she says.

And he wants to pull her in again, the word home echoing inside him, his body filling with elation. Home, he was home now, with her. He swallows thickly and nods against her. It takes a herculean effort to pull away from her but even then, he pulls away just enough to gather up his large suitcase that had fallen in his haste to embrace Nadia. He keeps an arm firmly around her, plastering her to him.

Nadia giggles at the gesture, shaking her head even as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw. “Is this all you brought with you? I was expecting more.”

“No, I just brought the essentials and figured Mama can ship the rest as I need them. Plus, I can always get new things here.” 

“How was your flight?” She tries to reach for his carry-on. “Here, let me hold that for you, at least. You must be tired.”

“It’s ok, I’m not tired,” he says, looking at her with a soft smile. He was still reeling but he hooks the carry-on to the suitcase and pulls them forward, keeping his arm tight around her. “How did you get here?”

Her smile turns coy as she looks up at him. This time, she was the one dragging him forward eagerly. “It’s a surprise. Come on!”

She drags him along by the hand, practically skipping with excitement that he can’t help laughing with her. They make it out of the airport and immediately he’s bombarded with noise. He’s not unfamiliar with city life being from Madrid and visiting Barcelona often, but the noise here certainly felt different somehow. People chattering in so many different languages, cars honking, loved ones greeting each other with shouts and squeals.

He barely has time to register it all when Nadia expertly weaves him past the people and cars, crossing what looked like an island to get to a parking lot. He glances behind them at the long line of taxis waiting in a line, confused.

“Isn’t that where we’re supposed to wait for the taxi?” 

But Nadia says nothing, simply squeezing his hand and continuing her trek to the parking lot. 

“Is there a special taxi here?” he asks. 

“Oh I can’t wait to see how this city is going to test your patience,” she says in amusement. 

They finally stop in front of a grey jeep, clearly an older model but still in relatively good shape. Guzman looks at it, noting that it had been recently cleaned, a shiny gleam to the impeccable paint job. He peers inside and sees it’s neat and tidy in there with soft-looking seats and a backpack in the back seat. 

He looks back at Nadia. “What’s this? Is this our uber? Where’s the driver?”

He’s looking around as though the driver was going to stride up any second when Nadia lets go of his hand and heads toward the trunk. She pops open the trunk and looks at him expectantly.

“What, am I going to be your bellhop and your driver? Get your suitcase in here.”

Guzman looks at her stunned, not comprehending what she was implying. He looks between her smug face and the car with new eyes.  He points at the car and lets out an astonished laugh. 

“This is yours? How?” 

Nadia shrugs, dusting off invisible dust from her shoulders with a wink. “I bought it.”

His eyes bug. “But, you don’t even drive?”

She brandishes a card out to him, seemingly from out of nowhere. “I do now.”

He takes the card from her and looks at it in awe, seeing her name, birthday, and picture on it, confirming that Nadia, indeed, could drive. At least according to the state of New York and if his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

“Holy shit,” he laughs. He grabs her up into a hug, lifting her off the ground. “Congratulations, baby, I’m so proud of you! You never said anything when we spoke.”

She returns his happy kiss when he sets her back down. “I wanted to surprise you. Plus, I’d have been embarrassed if I ended up not passing so I didn’t want to get both of our hopes up.”

He shakes his head lovingly at her, placing more quick kisses to her mouth. “Nadia, I’d never be disappointed in you. I’d have been proud of you simply for trying.”

She kisses his nose. “I know you would and I love you all the more for it. I just wanted to surprise you and see the look on your face just now? Worth it.”

“Holy shit,” he says again, in awe. “I can’t believe you managed all this on top of everything else. I mean, I can, but I can’t comprehend how. And the car, I thought money was tight?”

Nadia shrugs. “It’s not the easiest, but I’ve been saving up well before Columbia even happened. I always wanted a car and I always thought college would be the best time to get one, in case I ended up somewhere near home and needed to commute.”

“Wow” He shakes his head again, this time with a dull ache in his chest. All these months Nadia had been painstakingly saving her hard-earned money not just for school but for freedom, she had been studying for her permit, took her test, passed, took driving lessons and then passed that too. All of this had been happening and he had no clue. 

He knew she wasn’t trying to keep him out of the loop intentionally and his heart warmed at the thought of her wanting to surprise him but it made him realize once again how different they were. Not for the first time he wondered what she even saw in him. Would she ever wake up and realize that she could do better than him? Selfishly he prayed that she didn’t.

“You’re amazing,” he says. “So my suitcase can fit in here?”

She scoffs, “Please, it can fit at least three of the same size,” she calculates. She jumps in place and gestures to the open trunk. “Come on, stick it in there! Or do you want to check out more of this parking lot?”

Guzman pretends to look around. “Is a carnival going to pop up somewhere? I’ve heard they do that here.”

Nadia rolls her eyes and shoves him playfully. He catches her hand in his keeping her from pulling away completely. “Someone’s eager to get me home.”

“And someone’s not?” she challenges, sending him a coy look. 

Immediately Guzman throws his suitcase inside haphazardly and slams the trunk shut. “What are we waiting for? I just had a long flight.” 

He shuffles Nadia urgently to the driver's side, her laughter filing his ears pleasantly. He smooches kisses to her cheek as he helps her in before running around to the passenger side. 

The drive is long and somehow short all at the same time. Perhaps Guzman hadn’t yet become jaded from the New York City traffic and he was too amused with Nadia’s bouts of road rage to notice how long they sat on the road. 

“Did you see that idiot? You’re supposed to signal, how do you pass the driver’s test when you don’t even signal?” She mutters under her breath but he hears her anyway. 

He stares at her in bliss for a moment, watching her practiced movements. He’s never seen her drive before. He remembers the one failed attempt at teaching her on one of their dates but she had gotten too nervous with all the functions in his car.

“Why are there so many buttons, where do I put the key?” she had asked nervously, looking around. 

“This car doesn’t need a key. See here? You put your foot on the gas and then push the button?”

She had whipped around to look at him with wide eyes. “What?!” 

“Surely this isn’t the first time you heard of an automatic car?” he asked in amusement.

“Well no but I guess we haven’t been in your car a whole lot for me to notice. I don’t know about this Guzman.” 

“You’re going to be fine,” he soothed. “Press your foot on the gas lightly and then push the button.”

She does so hesitantly and oh so carefully that it’s a shock to both of them when the car roars to life. “No! No, I don’t want to do this anymore, Guzman. Turn it off, make it stop!”

He tried to muffle his laughter as he put a soothing hand to the back of her neck and pushed the engine button so it quieted down once more. 

“That couldn’t have been so scary,” he told her, rubbing his thumb against her skin all the while. He couldn’t help teasing her because she looked so cute but he didn’t want to freak her out either. 

“Um it was and I don’t want to do it again.” She moves to get out of the car before freezing in place as though it was going to blow up with the slightest movement. “It’s off, right?”

“Yes, it’s off.”

He had barely gotten the rest of the words out before she bolted out. 

That had been the first and last attempt at teaching Nadia how to drive, but looking at her now, he wouldn’t have believed she had been petrified at the thought of it just six months ago.

He wants to continue staring at Nadia but she pushes his face to look out the windshield. “You’ll have plenty of time to look at me until you get sick of my face, check out the sights.”

He obediently keeps his face forward but glances at her from the corner of his eyes. “I’ll never get sick of your face.”

But he does finally comply and takes in his surroundings, after all, this was going to be his new home. He has to admit, the pictures don't do New York City justice. He remembers seeing pictures and even videos of the highly populated city, cars stuck in traffic, people walking carelessly across the street, but nothing is quite like being in the midst of it. He is now among those people in the photos and it felt so surreal. 

It was hard to fathom that just a year ago, he had no idea what his future would look like. Had anyone asked him then, he’d have shrugged carelessly and likely joked about sitting on a beach or even sailing in the Balearic Sea or something. But never taking in the sun from New York City and certainly not with the love of his life. He knows he’s supposed to look around and be the wide-eyed tourist, and he will be, but at the moment, all he wants to do is look at the love of his life. 

He tries to be subtle about it, leaning his head back and letting it lol in her direction. He does catch sights of the bridge and the gorgeous water gleaming under the bright sunlight, but he’s more entranced by how the sun makes her look ethereal, almost unreal. Guzman was a man of God so there were moments where he wondered if Nadia was an angel meant to guide him through light. 

But then he’d really look at her, look past the beauty that rendered him speechless, and look at the person she was. She was more than a miracle, she was a person with her own hopes and dreams and he’d do everything in his power to ensure she achieves them. 

Nadia somehow weaves through the bustling roads, carefully and patiently, now that they had left what was the main freeway. They seemed to have reached an area that she was more familiar with and as he paid attention once more to the world outside, he realized it’s vaguely familiar to him too. Nadia had taken pictures on some of these roads and sent them to him, even taking quick little videos to show him the madness that would take place on the streets. They must be getting closer to her apartment—their apartment. 

He looks out the window, up at the tall building before it’s obscured from view as Nadia pulls into an underground parking space. He feels a little breathless suddenly, reality hitting him once more. This new, strange, and unfamiliar place would be his home now for the foreseeable future. All the things that he knew and was familiar with, the grocery stores, the arcades, the beaches, everything he once knew was gone. Well, not gone exactly, but would become a distant memory as he made new ones in a new place. 

There’s a small ache in his chest, a sense of homesickness but more for the innocence of youth. But as he thinks about his future with Nadia, the ache eases and he’s filled with hope and endless possibilities. He once believed he could do anything he wanted but it was more due to an ignorant cockiness he had, born from privilege. Now, though, he knew that the possibilities only existed because of Nadia. Because she was by his side, Guzman felt like he was capable and worthy enough to deserve a beautiful future.

He looks over to her with a smile, “Is this it? Is this the apartment?”

“Our apartment,” she corrects and he feels like his chest would burst. “But yes, we’re here. Welcome home, Guzman.”

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #186

This motherfucker.

We’ve built gods before. Kings. Entire freaking wacky races, each with their own special kind of vehicle. Why the fuck is this guy’s spear the most difficult build I’ve done so far.

There’s so few ways to add other physical damage types to a weapon in D&D that I’m going to have to make up a weapon just so we can do it. It’s just “spear, but deals slashing damage”, but given the fact this build literally would not work with any other kind of weapon. I’m just grateful he isn’t a saber. Honestly DW, what the hell? Casters can travel to other dimensions and stop time, but giving fighters multiple types of damage is too much?

Okay. Spear-induced breakdowns aside, Houzouin Inshun is a Kensei Monk for hopefully obvious reasons, a Battle Master Fighter for an even fancier spear and a bunch of ASIs for feats. We need so many goddamn feats, it’s ridiculous.

Deep breaths. We can get through this.

Build breakdown below. Character sheet over here.

Next up: To be fair you have to have a very high IQ to understand Shinkage-ryu.

Race and Background

No mincing words, Inshun’s a Variant Human, ‘cuz we need all the feats we can get. He gets +1 Wisdom and +1 Constitution, proficiency with Survival to help with the whole “wandering monk” schtick, and the Slasher feat, which gives you +1 Dexterity, and when you deal slashing damage you can reduce the speed of the creature you hit by 10′. Also, scoring a critical hit with slashing damage forces disadvantage on that creature’s attacks for a round. He’s also an Acolyte for his Religion training. It also gives him proficiency in Insight for some Knowledge of the Sowa.

Ability Scores

Make Wisdom first. You’re so good at reading people you can point out the flaws in your inner demon’s technique after a single fight. Make Dexterity second highest, you’ve got to be able to fight that inner demon too. After that is Strength, if you couldn’t tell from that full ascension art, Inshun’s pretty ripped. Your Constitution’s also pretty good. I know it technically wasn’t you in Shimousa, but getting your head cut off and surviving is going to give you a couple points no matter the circumstances. Your Intelligence isn’t bad, we just need other stuff more. That means we’re dumping Charisma. Despite being one of the first servants we summoned, I couldn’t tell Friend Point Spear Guy and the Shimousa character were the same character until I ascended them. A petty reason to dump his charisma? Probably. But he’s also given up on alcohol and meat, so he’s probably not super fun at parties.

Class Levels

Monk 1: First level monks get Unarmored Defense, giving them an AC of 10 plus your dexterity modifier plus your wisdom modifier. I mean, it makes sense. Lookit them abs, I bet most people just avoid hitting him on principle, like not messing with art. Ooh, speaking of, you get Martial Arts! It lets you use dexterity when you’re using monk weapons, and they all deal at least 1d4, which grows as you level up. Also, you can use your bonus action to punch people! You have to attack with your action to do that, though. Monks also get all kinds of proficiencies, like Strength and Dexterity saves, Athletics, and History. You’re good at working out, and you’re literally history. Easy picks.

Monk 2: Second level monks get Monk Level Ki points per short rest so they can do all sorts of cool things on their bonus action, like Dash, Disengage, Dodge, or attack twice with their fists. They also get Unarmored Movement for extra speed while not wearing armor (this also levels up as you do), and you can turn one non-monk weapon into a Dedicated Weapon! This lets you pick one non-monk weapon to use as a monk weapon (as long as it isn’t two-handed or heavy) at the end of a short rest. Now your homebrew not-spear is totally okay in the eyes of your DM. Maybe, IDK your DM.

Monk 3: Third level monks can Deflect Missiles as a reaction to reduce damage from arrows and those sorts of things. If you reduce it to 0 you can even throw it back for a ki point. You also set down the Path of the Kensei, which gives you all sorts of bonuses! You can pick certain weapons to be Kensei Weapons, which will be used for the rest of the class’ features. We just care about the spear, but you can pick others too! You can make an Agile Parry if you slap people while holding a spear, adding 2 to your AC for a round, or a Kensei’s Shot as a bonus action to make all your ranged attacks do more damage. You’re also good at writing now, I guess. You know the Way of the Brush.

Monk 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to grab the Polearm Master feat so you can slap people with the but of your spear as a bonus action. This deals 1d4 bludgeoning damage, but since it’s a monk weapon it’ll grow as you level up like your punches. You also could just use your punches, but we’re trying to fit all three damage types into a weapon, dangit! We’re not taking the easy way out! Plus, now you can make opportunity attacks when someone enters your range, not just when they leave it. You can also Slow Fall as a reaction for less falling damage, and you can use Quickened Healing as an action, spending a ki point to take a quick break.

Fighter 1: Bouncing over to fighter real quick for a Great Weapon fighting style, re-rolling 1s and 2s on two handed weapons. You like handling your spear with both hands  and a lot of your damage comes from slapping extra dice onto an attack, so it works for you. You also get a Second Wind once per short rest for even quicker healing. I don’t think there’s a lot of time between “head come off” and “dead”, so you’ve got to move quickly.

Fighter 2: Second level fighters get an Action Surge once per short rest for an extra action on a turn. It’ll be a while until we get our extra attack, so just... hang in there buddy.

Fighter 3: Third level fighters join their martial archetype, and the Battle Master archetype will let you do things with a spear most people can’t do with a whole armory. You get four Combat Superiority dice per short rest, which you can spend in a couple ways. If you make a Precision Attack, add that d8 to your attack roll. For more precision. You can also make a Pushing Attack to add that d8 to the damage and push a large or smaller creature 15 feet away if they fail a strength save. Finally, you can make a Trip Attack, adding the d8 to damage and forcing a strength save on the target. If they’re large or smaller and they fail, they get knocked prone. You’re also a Student of War, so you’re even artsier than before. Go nuts.

Fighter 4: Since we used your last ASI to add bludgeoning to the jumonji spear, this time around we’re grabbing the Crusher feat, for +1 Constitution to round it out and get some more HP (remember, it adds retroactively, so you get 8 extra this level). Also, once per turn you can push a creature you deal bludgeoning damage to 5 feet away if it’s large or smaller. Also, dealing a critical hit with bludgeoning damage grants advantage on all attacks against that creature for a round. Almost like blunt trauma to the skull isn’t great for your reflexes.

Fighter 5: Okay, almost halfway through the build, and we can finally get an Extra Attack. You attack twice per action, good job.

Fighter 6: We’ve got slashing with our homebrew, and bludgeoning with Polearm Master, but  that still leaves piercing out of the mix. Thankfully, there’s an old UA that will help us out here. Grab the Spear Mastery feat from Unearthed Arcana: Feats to beef up your spear even more, and grab that last damage type. You get +1 to attack rolls made with a spear, and its damage dice change from a d6/d8 depending on stance to a d8/d10. You can also use your bonus action to receive a charge, targeting a creature 20′ away from you or further. If that creature enters your reach, you can attack it as a reaction, dealing extra piercing damage. Also using your bonus action, you can increase the reach of your spear by five feet for your turn. Since your weapon is literally “spear, but slashy”, I’m pretty sure it counts for this feat. At least that’s what I’m going to say to keep my sanity. It’s either this or we multiclass into ranger for really dumb stuff.

Monk 5: Fifth level monks get their own Extra Attack, but it doesn’t stack so it’s not in bold. They can also turn those strikes into Stunning Strikes, forcing a constitution save by spending a ki point per attack. If the target fails, they’re stunned for a round. They can also take Focused Aim, spending ki points to add to their failed attack rolls, possibly turning it into a hit.

Monk 6: Sixth level monks get Ki-Empowered Strikes for magical punches. Kensei monks also become One with the Blade, which turns your kensei weapons magic, and you can use a Deft Strike to add your martial arts to weapon damage once per turn for a single ki point. So now you can tack on Favored Foe damage, a Deft Strike, and a Superiority Die to your attack, and all those dice can be re-rolled if they’re 2 or less. I’m not sure how good that damage is yet, but the act of rolling it should be satisfying.

Monk 7: Your last monk level gives us the ever popular Evasion for supercharged dexterity saves. Fails reduce damage by half, successes reduce damage by all of it. You also gain a Stillness of Mind to purge mental debuffs, like charming and frightening.

Fighter 7: Bouncing back to fighter lets you put that insight to good use by Knowing your Enemy, spending at least 1 minute to learn two things about a creature in comparison to yourself. You can learn about its physical ability scores, AC, HP, or total/fighter levels. You also get two more maneuvers and a fifth superiority die. A Sweeping attack deals extra damage to the first target, as well as a second target within 5′ of the first. You can also make a Riposte as a reaction when a creature hits you, making a melee attack and adding the die to damage.

Fighter 8: Use this ASI to complete your trilogy and grab the Piercer feat, rounding our your Dexterity for stronger attacks and a better AC. You can also re-roll one die of piercing damage per turn, and critical piercing hits get an extra die of damage. It’s a bit niche since you only deal piercing damage as a reaction, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t a nice surprise if it activates.

Fighter 9: Ninth level fighters are Indomitable, so you can re-roll a failed save once per long rest. Getting your head chopped off is automatically at least two failed death saves, so make sure you keep this handy.

Fighter 10: Tenth level fighters get Improved Combat Superiority, making your superiority dice d10s instead of d8s. You can use these new embiggened dice  on a Lunging Attack to add 5′ to your reach, or a Parry to reduce incoming damage from a melee attack.

Fighter 11: Eleventh level fighters get another Extra Attack, and this one does stack, so you get three attacks per action now!

Fighter 12: We’re finally done with all those fighting type feats. Now we can use this ASI to bump up our skills. Wait, he has a skill that lets him always get the first move? Dammit. Use this ASI to grab the Alert feat. You can’t be surprised, hidden creatures don’t get advantage on attacks against you, and you add +5 to initiative. Okay, the next one for sure, I swear it’ll be stats.

Fighter 13: Thirteenth level fighters get another use of Indomitable, for up to two re-rolled saves per long rest. It’s not flashy, but given your stats, they’ll probably come in handy. Don’t worry though, now that all those damage type feats are done, we can finally use next level’s ASI to bump up stats properly. What do you mean we’re at level 20?!

Pros: 

For a mostly mundane fighter you have a lot of flexibility in combat, with options for moving enemies around, weakening foes, and preventing them from getting to squishier teammates. You also get the most out of your weapon of choice, but can fight without one if necessary.

While using your Jumonji Spear, however, you can deal pretty consistent damage, with plenty of ways to add extra dice to your attacks, and the great weapon fighting style evening out their rolls.

While fighters aren’t known for their skills, you bring just enough to the table to surprise people, which is exactly how you want to use that insight of yours. You also get a bunch of artisans’ proficiencies, which are more niche but good for character building.

Cons:

Literally every ASI we took this build is a feat of some kind, and most of them don’t even offer half bonuses. That wouldn’t be too much of an issue, except a few of them are completely useless rules as written. Polearm Master is either incredibly niche or something you can already do by being a monk. Piercer only works by spending your bonus action and reaction for a single attack, which probably isn’t your best use of time.

Your maneuvers and kensei features are built around superiority dice and ki points respectively, both of which have very limited uses per short rest. Plan your fights carefully, or you’ll find yourself sputtering out fast.

We’re just using a spear here, they’re not known for their range. If you really have to you can throw it, or use a bow as a kensei weapon, but playing to character will not be fun against flying enemies.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

First Bite and A Small Death (M)

Temp·ta·tion

/tem(p)ˈtāSH(ə)n/

“  A desire to engage in short-term urges for enjoyment that threatens long-term goals. In the context of some religions, temptation is the inclination to sin.   ”

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, fluff, angst, romance, slow-burn

word count: 7.6k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of Star-Crossed

Warning: this chapter contains explicit description of smut!! (i’m gonna list them all even if it’s minor *just in case*): lots of making out, fingering, little bit of nipple play (can you call it that??), oral (f receiving), little bit of face riding (oops), thigh grinding, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, little bit of dirty talk (oooops), body worship, jimin is a tease (what’s new), strip tease??, (also he thicc), little bit of masturbation (oop!), begging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (*always* be safe, wrap it up!), creampie (there may or may not be lowkey a kink for it oop), little bit of cock-warming (oooops), rather vanilla though so nothing crazy?? lolll)

A/N: i may not be in time for halloween but i am in time for KINKTOBER?! LOLL oh my god, yall my first smut LMAOOO please do not be fooled by the warning list because gurl it’s...yeah, idk LOLL I will say though, that this smut chapter is on it’s own with no ‘real’ story development (like nothing major happens other than they finally bang), so it is entirely optional for those who are not comfortable (or underage *squinty eyes*). You’re not gonna miss out on much if you decide not to read this, I promise. I’m really sorry for the wait once again!! 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️😫😫😫 life and stuff just gets in the way and writing smut but make it plot and not straight up filth is wow hard. Other than that, i love you all for your endless patience and love for this story!! 💜💜💜 Quench thy thirst!! XDD

Tags:@cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​

He tastes unlike anything you've imagined, something that can only be described in feelings – like the first sip of buttered rum on a winter's day; how it warms your entire body from the inside out, sweet with a spice that burns a hot trail through you, like caramel that's melted over your tongue, rich and smooth, lingering long after you swallow.

It's intoxicating, and you can't get enough.

Your breath comes out in soft pants as a result of your greed to chase after more of him, but he welcomes you, pulls you in closer until the curves of your body melds into his, no space left between you. Goosebumps rise at the feel of his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, seeking out the warmth of your skin, dipping into the grooves your spine and mapping out the expanse with the careful traces of his fingers.

You bury your hand into his raven hair, the locks gliding easily like silk through your fingers and tug lightly.

“Cherub...” He groans.  

You hum noncommittally, sucking on the fleshy part of his lower lip and he nearly loses his mind. He brings his own hand up to cup the underside of your jaw then. At his coaxing touch, you open your eyes partially, lids heavy from being lost in the feel of him. Jimin's done an amazing job at controlling the pace of kiss so far; slow and sensual, like he's taking his time to memorize the shape of your lips, drawing you in deeper with every deliberate tilt of his head. You're so pliant, practically melting against him but underneath you're burning up and the heat of you ignites his own desires. Every press of your body to his makes him teeter closer and closer to throwing away all of his inhibitions and it takes everything in him to pull apart if only for a second.

“Tell me what you want cherub.” Jimin rasps, dark eyes locked onto you, voice husky. “Otherwise, I don't think I can stop...”

He really doesn't, not when you look so exquisite – flushed cheeks, kiss bitten lips, out of breath, and pupils blown out.

You swallow, finally able to breathe momentarily and even though he keeps you steady with one hand on your hip, the thumb rubbing tantalizing circles into the skin has you barely thinking straight. But you manage, wetting your lips and it doesn't go unnoticed by Jimin, entranced by the movement.

“...I want this.” You say with quiet conviction. You meet his eyes, unwavering and your heart swells at how attentive he is, putting you above his own desires, even amidst the heated moment just now. “I want you.” You've never been more sure in your life.

Something snaps in him at the words, his eyes going dark and hooded as the hand on your jaw moves to guide you back to him. Your eyes automatically slip shut, the sensation of his lips on yours all you want to focus on. It starts off sweet, as though to reacquaint yourselves again before a hunger takes over, turning the kiss heady. You're left breathless once again, the sounds of your pounding heart intermingling with the soft smacking of lips and you part easily at the first feel of his tongue running across your bottom lip.

He gives you no chance to take control, not like you can when he licks into every crevice of your mouth, the perfect balance between the soft caresses of his tongue on yours and nipping of teeth. It makes you weak in your knees but at the slightest shift, you accidentally press into the leg that has slipped in between yours and you let out a quiet gasp at the friction it causes.

Jimin drinks in the sound greedily, stoking his ego and immediately he's eager to draw more out from you.

You feel his hands pause in their wandering in favour of pressing into the backs of your upper thigh. The pressure naturally makes you lift yourself up and despite how drained he might've looked, Jimin has no trouble carrying you. You cling onto him, legs wrapped around his slender waist, paying no mind to where he takes you. If you're gonna be honest, you were more focused on trying to get the infuriating white shirt off of him, fingers tugging at the thin material across his shoulders but you don't make much progress.

Your back hits the plush surface of a mattress, the only indication that you've probably moved to the bedroom and the new position allows Jimin to nestle his weight perfectly atop you, your legs hugging his hips. He parts from your mouth to trail hot kisses down your jaw, licking and nipping and you tilt your head back to give him better access to your neck, nails raking his scalp. When he reaches the place just below your left ear and gives a harsh suck, you keen, body arching into him.

“Jimi – !!”

Eyes wide, you nearly choke at the speed in which you cut yourself off, mouth snapping shut so hard your teeth clicked noisily. At your sudden abruptness, 'Jimin' lifts his face from the crook of your neck to look at you properly.

“What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” He asks, voice full of concern.

You shake your head adamantly but still otherwise withhold your cause of embarrassment. Your face feels impeccably hot, the tips of your ears and neck burning. You're chewing on your lip, heart beating rapidly for an entirely different reason now and can't help but let your eyes fixate on a point in the high ceiling, useless thoughts racing distractedly in your mind (damn, just how big is this place?).

“Cherub,” You hear him call you softly and then feel the gentle press of his lips to the corner of your mouth in an attempt to draw you out of your head. “Talk to me darling.”

Shyly, you turn until you're able to meet his gaze, though you still have trouble maintaining it. He tilts his head in question, deft fingers brushing through the strands of your hair soothingly and your fingers do the same with the hair at the nape of his neck. After a moment, you swallow, finally mustering up the courage to speak.

“I – Um... I just...Don't be mad?” You mumble and you're not even sure if he's able to understand you completely. But he seems to as a small smile pulls at his full lips, and he gives a reassuring peck on the tip of your nose.

“I won't I promise. Go on, cherub.”

Taking a deep breath in, you blurt out, cringing. “I almost called you 'Jimin' and I felt really weirded out by that.”

He blinks, confused. “....But you always call me 'Jimin.'”

“Yeah, but... that's not actually your name is it? You have a 'true name' don't you?”

Your question shocks him for a brief second before understanding dawns on him, then the smile on his face creeps a little wider and his eyes take on a mischievous glint.

“Someone's been doing their homework....” He drawls playfully. “I wonder when did that happen...”

You pout at his implication and he's swift to kiss it.

“I just so happen to come across it at the moment okay? And it made sense.” Another kiss, this time on your cheek.

“You're not wrong; demons do have 'true names', as do all supernatural beings.”

“Really?” Your interest is piqued, but you find it's waning very quickly with every press of his mouth – he's clearly more interested in kissing every part of your skin he can reach. You manage to breathe, “Then...what's yours?”

He hums against your chin in response, “There's power in a name, love. It's not something we give out easily.” Then he rears up, looming over you and in a low voice, he says, “But perhaps I'll tell you if only to hear what it sounds like falling from your lips.”

The dark pensive look he gives is filled with a promise that makes an involuntary shiver run through you and you shift almost restlessly, pulse quickening. He smirks and he looks every bit a demon that he is, hair tousled and shirt practically falling off one shoulder as he leans down until his kiss swollen lips hover over yours.

“Cute...”

He presses the word teasingly onto your cupid's bow and you huff a little, miffed at the way he coos, obviously aware of the effect he has on you. The provocation does more than just rile you up though; it has you daring to bite back.

“Well, what name am I supposed to scream otherwise then?”

Your bold utterance makes the demon above you freeze and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel immensely satisfied. The light smirk that had been on his face falters, and for a moment, his mouth just hangs slightly parted, baffled at what he heard. You feel the corners of your mouth twitch.

“What? Did I fluster a de – ah!” Your smug jab gets cut short when you feel a sudden pressure between your legs, causing you to throw your head back as pleasure shoots through you. It leaves your neck exposed and vulnerable and Jimin takes full advantage, going back to give a punishing nip.

“Little minx...” He growls next to your ear, causing a quiet whimper to leave you at the sound, the vibration going straight to your core and your body moves on its own, grinding against the firm thigh pressed into you for relief. The heat creeps back fast and the feel of his hand sliding under your shirt has you sighing out. He breaks away for a second to remove it completely, the air further cooling your warm skin before Jimin's searing kisses trail a new path down your collarbones and the valley between your breast, purple bruises blooming in their wake.

He revels in the soft sighs and pants you exhale, but with each sound it becomes harder for him to control himself, wanting nothing more than to rip away your remaining clothes and bury himself deep in you. He's determined to take his time with you though; to touch and learn all the planes, dips and curves of your body, what makes you sigh, moan or in your words, scream (he shivers in anticipation at the thought) as if you're a language he wants to become fluent in.

And when his hand pushes past the cup of your bra, thumb brushing against a nipple, the hitch in your breath lets him know his patience will be worthwhile.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens, chest pushing into the palm of his hand and at your eagerness, he reaches around to unclip your bra. It falls away easily, tossed aside with little care and wasting no time, his lips latch onto a bud as his hand continues to toy with the other. He tends to them with great care, sucking and rolling with his tongue while letting his teeth occasionally graze over them. Only when they've pebbled does he switch over, making sure to give the other the same treatment that has you gasping and moaning, all the while still keeping his hands busy groping and kneading you.

Once he's satisfied, Jimin releases the pert nipple with a wet pop, and as if for good measures, he blows gently over them, the sudden chill sends goosebumps erupting and you whine. He's quick to placate you with a press of his lips to yours, though you still feel the ghost of a smile at your reaction but you find you can't stay anywhere remotely mad at him, feeling so needy of his attention and him being more than happy to give it to you.

“How long I've dreamt of this...Having you beneath me...” You hear him murmur almost to himself between the languid kisses and the haze of arousal, the words a mixture of being reverent and possessive as does the hand that trace along your abdomen, going lower until they find the button of your pants, prying them open with the zipper and you shift in anticipation, pressing your body into his.

“To ruin you until the only pleasure you know is mine.”

The mewl falls from you instantly when he presses into your folds for the first time, hips rising and he groans at how wet you already are, easily coating his fingers. He rubs along your slit in lazy strokes before circling your clit with the pad of his thumb and you twitch, legs spreading apart. For a good minute or so, you have trouble forming coherent words, any attempts only resulting in breathy whimpers as your nails dig into his biceps.

He doesn't seem to mind, actually loving how receptive your body is and it's with that thought in mind, he pushes a finger into you. Your head falls back, moaning at the feel of the digit sinking knuckle deep inside, sliding in easily. You hear Jimin curse, pausing in his open mouthed kisses at the juncture of your shoulder to take in the way your walls squeezes around his finger, even as he pulls out halfway to thrust back in experimentally.

You can barely keep yourself from writhing, growing steadily impatient with need and how unhurried he seems to be but before you can muster any strength for a complaint, you feel a second finger and you let out a choked gasp instead. He stretches you with a scissoring motion, letting you get accustomed before he begins to set a pace.

Jimin leans back to watch you, eyes drinking in the glassy, half-lidded look in your eyes and your dishevelled appearance; mouth parted and your chest heaving with every moan, flushed and covered with his marks while shamelessly rutting yourself against his hand with every thrust. At the crook of his fingers, your hips stutter and your eyes nearly roll shut. You're quite the sight to behold; his jaw clenching subtly in effort to maintain his composure and focus on you rather than the erection straining in his jeans.

Soon, your moans grow a little louder, your breathing becoming more shallow and the furrow in your brows lets Jimin know that you're getting close, hips bucking up desperately on their own to chase your high but just as you're within reach, he stops, pulling away and you're left feeling frustratingly empty.

“Ugh! J-Jimin!” You whine loudly, voice pitching as if you're on the verge of crying. “I was so close...!”

He gives a throaty chuckle, the sound enough to draw your attention and immediately any more petulant protests are silenced when your eyes meet deep crimson irises that glow dangerously in the dimness of the room.

“I meant what I said cherub,” He says in a husky timbre, ruby eyes never leaving yours as he brings his fingers glistening with your juices to his lips, “You'll be ruined by the time I'm done with you.” And sucks them off clean, humming in approval as he visibly swallows, Adam's apple bobbing.

You clench around nothing at the sight, failing to hide the wave of arousal that shoots through you ten times more intensely than before. God, it always seems like you eat your words a lot when it comes to him, only this time you find you have no regrets for trying to outplay him in his own game.

Every nerve ending in you is vibrating with excitement at what he plans to do and you're not sure if it's a good or a bad thing that he's very well aware of that fact because you know he'll definitely take advantage of it, if the devilish gleam in his eyes is anything to go by.

“Let's get you out of these, hm?”

Your hips lift as he tugs your pants and slides them off along with your soaked panties, discarding them to the side. Now bare of any clothes, you can't help feeling a little self-conscious, an embarrassing heat creeping from your neck all the way up to your face seeing as how he's still fully clothed, much to your chagrin and his piercing gaze is fixated on you. They drag over every inch of you intently that it has you wanting to curl in on yourself but he stops you by situating himself between your legs and a comforting hand rests on your hip bone.

“You don't need to hide from me, cherub.” He says softly, leaning over briefly to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, “You're beautiful.” Then he descends downwards, skimming those pillowy lips over the divot of your collarbone, your breasts, stomach and navel until he shuffled to have your thighs resting comfortably over each shoulder.

You watch him with baited breath, so tense and hyperaware of how close he is to where you want him yet you're captivated in the way he's meticulously placing kisses on your inner thigh, nosing along the supple flesh and trailing lower. He chases away any insecurities you might've felt before with every worshipful press of his lips and you willingly part your legs wider for him.

“You smell so good.” He groans appreciatively on an inhale, eyes deepening to a rich maroon as his mouth finally reaches your centre, still dripping and aching for him. It makes Jimin's mouth water, mind already so hazy from that small taste earlier which is why he doesn't hesitate a second longer to dive in, licking one long stripe that has you throwing your head back against the sheets, eyes shutting and exhaling a breathy moan.

You feel one of his hand come up to push your hips back down, keeping you in place as he begins to ravish you.The sounds pour out of you unadulterated with each flick leaving you gasping and mewling senselessly. It only spurs him on, tongue swirling and teasing your nub to coax more of your wetness which he laps all of it up hungrily, letting out a deep moan of his own. The vibration sends a shockwave through your body and your hands fly out from clutching at the sheets to ultimately burying themselves into raven locks.

“So sweet....” He mumbles into your cunt, fingers spreading your folds apart. “All for me.”

There wasn't any hope for you to form an answer, his tongue dipping into your sopping hole and you keen. He works the pink muscle in like he's French kissing you, prodding and reaching places you didn't think possible until it has your walls fluttering and you pull him closer, wanting him deeper still. Jimin doesn't resist, continuing to tongue fuck you with his nose buried into your pussy and you practically riding his face, the amount of raw lust feeding him in more ways than one.

Your chest is heaving from trying to keep up with the onslaught of stimulation but also in a fight to not let the coil tightening in your gut to snap so quickly, head numb with pleasure-filled high that has you barely able to convey a fraction of the jumbled thoughts in your mind.

“Please....! I – Mmph!” You manage to gasp out, hands slipping from Jimin's roots momentarily.

To your relief, Jimin slows down, giving one last lick with his flattened tongue before pulling back. It gives you the chance to finally breathe, lungs burning as you inhale much needed air.

“What is it, cherub?” He purrs, the pads of his free hand stroking much too closely along your inner thigh. “What do you want?”

You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows, swallowing and licking your dry lips and finally able to pry your eyes open for the first time, blinking away the blurriness to focus down on Jimin. You wanted a lot of things; to cum on his tongue, to not cumming until you feel him too, to give him pleasure like he is to you, his name which he hasn't given yet, to maybe remove that damn shirt that he's still wearing for whatever reason but all of that goes flying out the fucking window when you lay your eyes on Jimin.

He looks like the embodiment of sin bathed in moonlight; shadows half concealing his face and cutting sharp, defining angles, hair as dark as the night itself, mussed but falling so effortlessly into hooded eyes that glow in liquid lust, a hypnotizing, deep blood-red ruby as his full lips and chin shine with your essence.

Fuck, he just looks so good between your legs like this, and so obviously content with being there from the way the hunger in his gaze has not yet shown signs of being satiated, not even the slightest. And it makes you want to give as much as he is taking, though come to think of it, at this point you're not sure which is which anymore.

You don't realize your thoughts had wandered off from their intended course, but Jimin is quick to catch on and intentionally gives his bottom lip a titillating swipe of his tongue, smirking at the way you bite yours in response. He chuckles, repeating his question as he almost absentmindedly starts giving you kitten licks, nibbling along your lower lips. “What do you want cherub?”

You go lax, softly whimpering and you flush abashed, a pretty pink deepening your cheeks and Jimin can actually see how hard you're trying to pull yourself together, brows furrowing in concentration and fingers pulling at the bedsheets under you. He doesn't mean to, but the sight makes him even more tempted to unravel you faster, see you become undone because of him. Suddenly, every one of his nerves is itching for it, and so preoccupied with...other things, you miss the way his eyes narrow with newfound impatience.

Focus! Use your words. How – ?

“I...haah – I want – need...you, please!” It's all you manage to get out, a desperate half-pleading and whining but you hope it's enough to get across to the demon. He hums in feigned thoughtfulness, the sound too close to your sensitive pearl and your legs would've clamped shut on Jimin's head had it not been for the strong hold that keeps them apart. You're thankful because you think you would've combusted, horrified but the feeling doesn't last as you feel Jimin inserting his finger in you again, your walls contracting and you let out a surprise squeal.

“I'll get back to you on that, sweetheart.” Was the only reply you get and whatever half-baked arguments you had is immediately forgotten when his tongue begins to work in tandem with his fingers. He laves at you firmly while he thrusts deeply at a steady pace, quickly getting a second digit in and crooking them to rub at the rough patch of nerves, making you throw your head back, mouth falling open. Your body reacts as if it has a mind of its own, hips writhing uncontrollably under the hand still pinning them in an effort to meet each thrust until they jerk at the feel of a third finger pushing in.

You groan at the stretch and Jimin slows down fractionally to let you get used to it but the amount of slick gathered made for the slight burn to pass quickly and soon you're begging him to go faster and harder. He all but happily obliges, picking up speed and swiping his tongue and lightly suckling your clit relentlessly that your hands scramble to cling onto the pillows and sheets for dear life. You hear just how wet you've become, the squelching noise that comes every time he flicks his wrist much louder than before and the lewd sound has you growing hotter by the minute from both embarrassment and arousal.

Your elbows are shaking; how you managed to still remain somewhat upright is a miracle but you know it won't last for much longer, the knot in your stomach becoming almost unbearable, walls clenching with your impending orgasm. All the words you attempt to get out in warning ends before they can leave your mouth, turning into nonsensical babbling mixed in with your increasing moans. So in your brilliant half coherent mind, you muster enough strength to peel your eyes open to look down at Jimin, to try to get his attention that way, only to find that it was a lost cause.

Jimin's eyes were shut, so engrossed in eating you out as if there's nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing. You watch his fingers disappear in and out of you, coated in your wetness and mouth parted slightly to let his tongue work quick, short flicks over your engorged bud. You're a hair's breadth away from falling over the precipice from the erotic sight alone, but as if sensing your eyes on him, he glances up, locking you in a smouldering gaze that has all thoughts leaving you. Then he encases his lips around your clit and sucks and you're gone.

You cum hard, head falling back, body tensing and arching up as you let out a long strangled moan, toes curling and legs shaking. Jimin can't help but let slip his own moan as your orgasm washes over you and into his awaiting mouth. He helps you ride it out all too eagerly, your taste his new addiction and he slurps up your release like he wants to drag it out for as long as he can until you're whimpering from over stimulation.

He finishes with a soft kiss grazing the inside of your thigh, letting your legs go limp on their own and leans back on his knees nonchalantly, taking the time to wipe his chin and mouth with the back of his hand before licking it clean, as if you're not panting like you've ran a marathon and he just didn't give you the best oral you ever had. Slowly, you blink your eyes open (when had you shut them you don't know), dazed from practically seeing stars as you look at him through bleary eyes.

Noticing that you've come back down from cloud nine, Jimin crawls over your splayed out form and grins down at you roguishly, very much looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“You doing okay?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head.

Heart still thundering loudly in your ears and chest, out of breath, hot and a little sweaty all over, you manage a weak raspy hum in acknowledgement but it's enough to earn you a chuckle and a kiss. You lean up as much as you can into those plush lips, tasting yourself in the process and you sigh deeply, your own tongue brushing against the roof of his mouth to chase more of it. Your hands lift automatically to pull him in closer but instead of feeling bare skin and rippling back muscles, you whine out in complaint, grabbing a handful of the offending cotton short sleeve and give a harsh tug, impatient.

“Can you get this fucking shirt off already? Why do you still have it on?”

A rush of air tickles your cheek as Jimin huffs through his nose in response. He pulls his lips away from yours with a soft smack.

“Sorry, must've slipped my mind.” His eyes gleam deviously, “If you ask nicely, maybe I'll take it off finally.”

“I will literally rip this shirt if I have to.”

Your deadpan earns you a breathy laugh but you're completely serious. Luckily for you, you don't have to because in spite of Jimin's teasing, he's just as worked up as you are so he retreats to stand at the end of the bed, reaching up and pulling the shirt over his head in one fluid motion. You rush to sit upright, your eyes pinned to his figure and your breath hitches as he tosses it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

The first time you've seen him shirtless was when you had nursed him back to health after that night and given the circumstance, you had refrained yourself from staring inappropriately. The most you're sure of is that he has a lean build with maybe a little less weight. Now when you're allowed the luxury, you're almost ashamed to admit that you're barely able to handle it. You see the fine lines that make up the sinewy muscles of a toned chest and abdomen, tapering down to a thin waist with deep v-cuts that you can't help but let your eyes get lost trailing to a very obvious bulge below the belt of his jeans sitting low on his hips (you unconsciously swallow, mind immediately going straight into the gutter).

There are signs that he's gotten slimmer but it's like with the way he's naturally built – broad chested, rounded torso – he'll never end up looking scrawny from it, the weight loss showing more in his face than his body. He's still every bit a marble Greek sculpture, and that's actually quite unfair.

But then you see his veiny hands begin to unhook his belt and it's here that you think you truly stop breathing. You watch almost wide eyed and lips parted, glued to the way he loosens it and dexterously undoes the button of his pants, then the zipper as if in slow motion before he pushes them down to reveal his Balenciaga boxer briefs. He steps out of the denim smoothly, and the black cotton he's left in has you biting back a groan – they hug his strong thighs like a second skin and do little to hide the damp patch and the thick outlines of his erection.

You rub your thighs together restlessly, feeling yourself growing damp as his fingers slip under the band of his briefs to drag them off completely. His cock bounces in the air, finally freed from their confines and curving slightly up towards his stomach. He's only a little more than average in size but god he was as thick as from what you could see through his underwear with a prominent vein on the underside of his shaft, head flushed dark and already dripping with pre-cum. Your inner muscles clench involuntarily.

Even his dick is beautiful – honestly something that you shouldn't be surprised at but you bemoan the fact nonetheless.

You don't even realize the small whine you let out when he wraps a firm hand around the base and slowly begins to pump himself, biceps flexing.

“What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted?” Jimin's dulcet tone is light and teasing but you catch the subtle airiness lingering in the question, the only indication that he's as relieved to be out of his clothes as you probably are. His thumb swipes at the tip of the bulbous head to smear the pre-cum down his length and he takes in a deep breath, breathing in the heavy scent of your lust and arousal spiking again and the absolute tortured look on your face has his cock twitching in his hand.

“You're such a fucking tease!” You keen out, pushed to your limit and in the heat of it, you let slip all your deepest desires, “I wanted to cum with you inside me. Let me suck you off at least please, I want to feel you.”

His eyes flash and his hand stops in their tracks as you hear a deep growl rumble from his chest. It's the only warning you get before he's climbing atop of you again and your thighs automatically part to make room for him, pulling him flush as he kisses you hard, hips pressing into yours and you moan contently into his mouth as he grinds himself against you.

“Fuck, I can't believe I'm turning down getting sucked off by that needy mouth of yours.” Jimin says through gritted teeth, sucking your bottom lip.

“Mm, I'll make up for it. I just need you in me, do you have a con –  ” Your mind clicks with a moment of clarity; you made it a force of habit to ask the few times you had a sexual encounter, better be safe than sorry and all, but that's just with another human being, not a demon. Your furrowed confused brows has Jimin pulling back slightly, a question in his crimson gaze before you ask, genuinely curious, “Do demons need condoms? Is the whole thing about getting impregnated by a demon true?”

A beat passes and then Jimin snorts, turning to bury his face into his shoulder and clearing his throat, he replies, biting back a smile, “No, it's not true. Demons, and a few select supernatural beings, are sterile upon creation. Wouldn't make sense for God to let demons procreate freely would it?”

“Huh...No, it wouldn't.” You agree, tucking away the new piece of information you've learned. It makes you wonder where that whole concept had come from, but you heard it straight from the source; if an actual demon says they can't impregnate anyone by nature then there's no  need for a condom. That's relieving you guess, one less thing to worry about.

Wait, then doesn't that mean....

Almost instantaneously, heat floods through you, starting from your cheeks, all the way down to the tips of your toes and you find it hard to meet Jimin's eyes. Not that you would need to for him to notice how you've gone suspiciously quiet, and from your reddening cheeks and nervous lip biting, it doesn't take long for him to put two and two together. You've shocked him for the second time tonight but it quickly wears off, replaced by a wicked smile stretching across his lips as he watches you squirm under him, caught red-handed and he's never been more turned on than he is now.

You're really going to be the death of him.

“Oh cherub....” He chuckles, low and sultry, a concealed excitement buzzing in every word. “Do you want to feel me cum in you, fill you up until you're full and dripping of me? Is that what you want?”

You visibly swallow, trying but failing to hide the way your breath catches in you throat at the filthy words spoken in such a velveteen voice. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did he have to make it sound so seductive, so enticing that now that's all you can think about, and the more you do, the more you crave for it.

He shifts to reposition himself, supporting some of his weight on his elbow as one of his hand reaches between your bodies to grasp his length, rubbing it along your wet folds to further lube himself. He feels so hot and hard that that alone sends shivers of anticipation running through you, hips rocking up on their own but he doesn't make a move to do anything more.

“You didn't answer my question.”

“I want it,” You whine without any restraint. “Need you so bad. Please!”

Jimin preens, eyes beaming. “That’s my girl.”

You feel the blunt head of his cock begin to slowly push in, inch by inch until you gasp, tensing and involuntarily your walls clench as you feel the thicker part of his girth enter you, the stretch a little discomforting. Jimin grunts, head bowing into your neck as he stops, a steady hand on your hip bone.

“Relax for me, love.” He strains, placing soft kisses into your warm skin. Your eyes flutter shut, willing yourself to be lulled by his gentle coaxing and once he feels your body easing again, he continues. You try to ignore the burning sensation but a small whimper slips out. Jimin shushes you, whispering sweet encouraging words in between the press of his lips. When he bottoms out, you both let out a shuddering sigh. He stills, arms coming up to brace himself on either side of your head, letting you adjust to the feel of him inside you.

“You okay?” Jimin asks, nuzzling into your cheek, pulling away long enough to brush away a few strands of your hair.

You inhale shakily, eyes peering open to lock with his. “I – Y-Yeah, just...give me a second...” The burning from the stretch has ebbed into a manageable dull ache – still uncomfortable but not as bad as it was initially. You're not quite sure if Jimin moved now, it would get worse or better.

Well, guess that's something you'll have to find out.

“Can you...go slow?” You ask tentatively, unsure if you're being too much. You can practically feel the amount of tension in Jimin's body, like a live wire pulsating with energy yet he's holding himself back for your sake, nodding without a single moment's hesitation. Your heart flips, overwhelmed with emotions that you can't find the words to properly express, how thankful you are to have him here for as long as you have; as a dutiful guardian who has looked out for you, as a friend who quietly supported you, unwaveringly, and now as a lover – passionate, selfless and tender. Without knowing what else to do, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in until your mouths connects, pouring everything you have to convey even an ounce of your feelings.

Jimin startles at your sudden earnestness, so it takes him a second to recollect himself before tilting his chin to better mould his lips to yours and easily deepens the kiss. It helps distract you enough for Jimin to carefully withdraw himself, just enough to still be inside before pressing back in one smooth stroke. The sharp gasp you let out makes you break away but a moan follows quickly after as Jimin begins to move.

The room soon fills with your sighs and pants that intermingle with his, the pain long forgotten and you're left feeling so incredibly full instead. Through half-lidded eyes, you see him watching you, transfixed on the pleasure that's overtaken your face, blood-red irises glowing with the heat of molten lava.

“You're such a good girl cherub, taking me so well.” He says, voice husky and breathless as he continues to roll his hips into you, each thrust slow and deep that has you feel every inch of him, loving the way your warm velvet walls hug him so tightly, like you're meant to be his.

You squeeze around him at the praise and he hisses, hooking one of your leg around his waist and going a little harder. You cling onto him, wanting him closer even when your foreheads press together, nails raking down his back and feeling the strong muscles flex under your touch. Your bodies move rhythmically, like the push and pull of ocean waves crashing along the shores that drag you farther and farther until you're drowning in him.

You want to stay like this forever if you can, connected and entwined. At least this way, you're allowed a small piece of comfort where everything else fades away – no uncertainty for the future, no demons, angels, heaven or hell.

In this moment, there's only you and him.

But you feel your end approaching, the pressure in your stomach building faster than you would have liked and so in tuned with your body, Jimin quickens before you get the chance to try and delay the inevitable. The moans that tumble past your lips are muffled by his hungry kisses, a mess of tongue and teeth that leaves you out of breath yet even still, you will yourself to resist. However, Jimin doesn't let up, determined to have you cum again before him.

A gasp rushes out when you feel his thumb on your clit, head falling back and you know it's a losing battle.

“Let go, Y/N. Give in to me.” Jimin whispers lowly, his breath hot against your ear, nibbling at the tender lobe. “Give in.”

You succumb to his words, the dark temptation too sweet falling from honeyed lips, crying out, body seizing with your orgasm that rips through you and swallows you whole. Jimin moans at the vice-like grip of your walls sucking him in and his hips stutter, slowing to let you ride out your high before he pushes through in pursuit of his own. You let out a strangled whimper, oversensitive and mind still foggy but you don't stop his steady rocking in spite of it – you hold on tighter as if he's the only anchor you have.

The sight of you unravelling beneath him had been magnificent, having never seen such a raw, carnal side to you but this night had blessed him with so many, more than he could've ever hoped or imagined. You were beautiful, the look of absolute pleasure looked so good on you. Jimin doesn't think there was anything else that could hold a candle to you.

Yet now, lying bare on his mattress – eyes glossy, the pure ecstasy on your face with the sheen of your sweat and afterglow from your post-orgasm bliss beneath the pale moonlight – you look divine.

He's not going to last much longer, head swimming with the sounds of your moans and drunk off of a pride from knowing that this is all his doing and that no one, not even Jimin, will ever be able to have you this way.

You're getting embarrassingly loud, every ragged breath you struggle to hold back the noises that follow after as Jimin drives into you roughly, the wet slaps of skin where his pelvis meets yours growing with each powerful snap of his hips. His brows are furrowed in an almost pained expression, throaty moans only increasing, letting you know that he's close.

“P-Please...!” You hiccup, nails digging into the back of his shoulders. “Nn! H-Hah! N-Need – ah! Need you – ! Cum in m-me! Please!”

In your pleasure riddled mind, you hear him whisper it – an intimate secret shared between you in this stolen moment, hidden by the darkness of night.

“Call for me, Y/N.” Jimin rasps, urging you, body caging you in and you're surrounded by him, no way for you to escape. “Call my name.”

You breathe it in as he seals it with sloppy kisses and you try to return them with the same fervour however, you pull away too soon, head thrown back, your control over your body gone and your lungs scream at you for air but you choose to call out to him instead. You say his name over and over like a broken prayer, you say it as you beg for him to fill you, make you his.

You say it until you're sobbing, feeling a new wave of an oncoming orgasm building again.

Spurred on, he pushes faster, cock swelling and thrusts becoming erratic in wanting to reach his climax with you. Your body is writhing uncontrollably but he keeps you in place, not letting up. He sucks open mouthed kisses onto your breasts, collar, neck like he means to devour you and it proves to be too much and you cum with a choked wail, shaking. He follows soon after, burying in your warmth as he empties himself inside you, a deep guttural moan tearing from his throat. He slows until he's grinding shallowly and you let out a quiet shivering whine, soaked walls coated in his milky essence pulsating from the aftershocks and squeezing a few more spurts, making him muffle a groan into your shoulder before he stops.

You both lay in each other's embrace, chest heaving, the sounds of your harsh breathing in sync as is the pounding of your hearts, boneless and completely spent. You're tingling all over but you're content like this, still joined and the comfort of his weight on you. He doesn't rush to part from you either, basking in the rare tranquil peace while pressing soft lazy kisses, retracing the path of his marks until he reaches your mouth.

You let his lips brush chastely against yours – you'd return them with a little more effort if you weren't so tired and fighting the urge to sleep. He pulls away enough to caress the knuckles of his fingers along the edge of your eyes and it's only then you realize the stray tears that had streaked past your lashes, your body's natural reaction to the intense amount of stimulation.

When he finally slips out of you, you shudder at the lost and feeling the heat of his cum seeping out of your hole, thick and wet – the image of your combined releases staining the sheets below sends a tremor rippling through you delightfully. The bed dips as he rolls onto the mattress beside you but your hands blindly seek his touch immediately, sighing when he gently pulls you flushed to him, enveloping you in his arms. He tucks your head under his chin and you blink heavily, vision becoming unfocused with fatigue.

“Sleep if you're tired, cherub. I got you.” You hear him murmur against the crown of your head.

You let out a weak hum in protest, afraid that when you next wake, he'll no longer be there but the gentle combing of your hair subdues you quickly, so you hold him close and drift off to the warm scent of spices and burning cedar wood.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

Hello. I am, as you know, an American. I turned eighteen in 2014, voted in my first presidential election in 2016, and voted in my second presidential election last week via early voting in the state of Texas. 

I’m reflecting right now on the difference between those experiences. This is going to be a very self-indulgent essay. 

The 2016 election was in my third and final year of undergrad at Texas A&M University. At the time, I was living with a roommate who grew up in a town of 2,000, all of them members of her church. I loved her very much, but she was the most sheltered person I’ve ever met. 

I was only a few years ahead of her. My home growing up was deeply liberal about many of the things that counted, but deeply conservative on equally important things. For me, leaving for college was a radicalization speed-run.

I, a good Memphis girl, moved to Texas and encountered for the first time in my life white homogeny and everything that comes with it. I made most of my friends at A&M through a Christian orientation camp that I attended, then worked at. I went to school at a history department that was overwhelmingly male and war-obsessed. 

My second semester, I was randomly sorted into a writing seminar on the American Civil War and Reconstruction. There were eight other students in that class, all of them Texans. By day two I had gotten into a open fight with one of my classmates after he used the phrases “one of the humane parts of slavery” and “the secession declarations are moving and beautiful appeals, if you read them,” and “well I’m not going to criticize my own state.”

We got into at least one yelling match per week from that point forward. It was a formative experience for me-- not just him but the seven other students that took his side every time because they just couldn’t conceptualize anything outside of their own experiences, and frankly, I couldn’t either. 

It rocked my world to be surrounded by people who told me, among other things, that their high schools flew the Confederate battle flag or Lee was their all time role-model (because he actually didn’t want to secede! He didn’t believe in it, but Virginia did, so he put his own qualms aside and served his country, and that’s what we all have to do). I ran a survey once by knocking on every door in a dorm hall and asking the two people inside why the Civil War happened. 

I feel like you can guess the most common answer I got. Only two said slavery. Six didn’t know what the Civil War was. 

The last week of the semester, my class read a collection of recorded oral accounts of freed slaves during Reconstruction. My nemesis told me that he “didn’t realize black people actually had it bad.” At the same time, I was struggling with my sexuality, my relationship to my religion, my relationship with my parents, and a handful of newly-diagnosed but long-existing mental illnesses. I wasn’t having fun. 

Over the next three years, I tried my hardest to humanize the people that said disgusting things about minorities, poverty, and me personally. I barely won on that one, and I’m actually really proud that I did, even if it took me a few years. I can trace the biggest change in me directly to my nemesis from the history department, the kid that made me so mad that I started arguing back. I was too scared to do that before. 

By 2016, I was in full existential spin-out-- a very suddenly liberal kid fighting my whole family, all of my classmates, and most of my friends in an explosive political climate, the first I had ever participated in. 

I voted by Tennessee absentee ballot in 2016. On election night, I ordered takeout for me and my roommate, who I knew had voted red. Confident, like pretty much everybody, that Clinton would win, I was trying to show her that I didn’t hate her. She went to bed after dinner, also so certain that Clinton would win that she didn’t bother to stay up. 

I sat in front of my laptop sewing a birthday present for a friend (Kenza, actually), while the votes came in. I wasn’t super alarmed when the map turned red. I just figured the blue states hadn’t finished counting yet. 

The map didn’t get any bluer. By 1am, I knew what was about to happen. They called it an hour later, while I was sobbing on my floor. I threw up in the bathroom out of pure anxiety. I got two anonymous messages telling me the asker was going to commit suicide. Neither of them responded to my replies. I don’t actually know what happened to them. 

I remember riding the bus to class the next morning and distinctly seeing that most of the racial minorities there had swollen eyes from crying. The girl with the pride stickers all over her laptop didn’t show up that day, and I’m kind of glad she didn’t, considering the way some of our classmates in the back were loudly talking about “the gays.” Hope she’s okay.

My roommate came home completely unaware that Clinton lost. I was crying in my room when that happened. I remember showing her a demographic map of who voted which way. She got visibly upset when she figured out what races how. I think she really did feel guilty. 

That Thanksgiving, one of my cousins tweeted, “I can’t wait to go argue with my liberal cousin today. The wins. Keep. Coming,” an hour before he walked into my house. Inauguration day was January 20, 2017. I decided to go to law school a week later, the day the president signed the Muslim ban. That’s when I figured out for the first time just how much power the courts have. The last three years have only enforced that. 

I got angrier and angrier during law school, egged on by a few friends but more than anything just... finally conscious of exactly how the American system works and exactly who’s behind it. I still live in Texas, farther west now, and I’m working my first legal job. I’m going to be a licensed attorney next week. 

I went back and forth for months about how this election was going to shake out. I knew there wasn’t going to be an overwhelming red majority this time, but my big fear was an election close enough that the Supreme Court could take it. That fear doubled last month, at RBG’s death. 

I was hoping for a blue enough victory on election night that there wouldn’t be a week of uncertainty, but that was unlikely, and it didn’t happen. I obsessively refreshed my election map all of Wednesday and Thursday, aware that at least some states would flip after mail-in ballots came in, but unsure which would. 

Again, my great fear was a blue victory held down by only one state. Given (I would say “any” chance here, but I don’t mean “any” chance because genuinely jurisdiction or facts or legal merit don’t matter to the Supreme Court) an opportunity to make one (1) decision that hands over a red election, please know that a conservative supermajority would take it. I cannot emphasize enough how true that is and how important it is for all of us to grasp that. 

Watching Georgia flip was one of the best experiences of my life, and it’s a little hard for me to articulate why, but I’m going to give it a shot here. I’m southern. I’m from the South, and for this conversation it’s really important that I’m from Memphis, a black city and a center of black music and culture. 

When people think about the South, they think of the white South, and on some level, they should. It is absolutely essential to understand the white South in order to understand American history. Let me be 100% clear here. That is not a good thing. American majority history is not good. We are not a good country. 

It’s near-impossible to understand why that’s true without knowing exactly what happened in the white South and exactly what is still happening there now. With that, however, is another truth that most folks don’t get. 

The SouthTM is white and needs to die. The South as it actually exists is partially white yes, but it is also everyone else that lives here, particularly black folks. Southern culture is black, not white. Georgia flipped because the people that have always, always been there finally got to crack apart the conservative machine holding the South hostage. 

That’s amazing. It’s fucking mind-blowing. I watched it happen at 3:30 in the morning days after Election Day, and holy shit holy shit, Georgia flipped. Atlanta won. Holy fucking shit. 

I would be terrified right now if only Georgia flipped, because SCOTUS would have found a way to throw out a few thousand votes. Inevitable. Absolutely certain on that one. 

With a few states of buffer, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I really do think it’s over. 

I came home after work on Friday and immediately went to sleep because I hadn’t really done that since Tuesday. I woke up at noon today, checked the map, checked my messages, and saw what happened while I was gone. After that, I went back to bed until 5:30pm. I’m really just getting up now, after most of 24 hours asleep. 

I don’t know if I would say that I’m happy right now, but I am overwhelmingly relieved. I’m under no illusions that a Biden victory will solve everything, but I also do think this is a real thing to celebrate. I’ll take suggestions on how to celebrate right now, actually, since I’m finally awake. 

I’ll be angry forever, I think, but this is a good thing, and I’d like to enjoy it. If you’re happy right now, hey, tell me about it. I’ll be thrilled with you. I want to hear it. Congrats to all of us. Love y’all. 

[sunshineseung]

Sinner Part 2 // Felix

💌 Info: Stray Kids Felix x female!reader smut 💕 Includes: dom!reader x sub!felix, themes of religion, teasing, exhibitionism/fear of being caught, first time, loss of innocence, establishment of safeword, degradation and praise, oral/fingering (receiving), unprotected sex, riding, cum play, slight aftercare ✏️ Word Count: ~4.2k

Please read part one of this series first :) Thank you!

The rain was pouring in the pitch black outside, but the lights inside the church hall were bright as day. The only occupant of the church on this night was Lee Felix deep in prayer, oblivious to the storm outside. With hands folded and head bowed, he whispered his prayer through his lips, a slight echo of his words spreading through the otherwise empty room. 

Felix jolts up at the sound of the main entrance being opened and slammed shut quickly after. A feminine sigh can be heard, and Felix lets out a shy “hello” to the intruder of his private repentance time. 

“Oh, you’re here?” You say while entering the main hall, throwing your wet jacket over one of the pews. “I thought this place would have been empty.”

“What are you doing here?” Felix retorts immediately, slightly offended that of all people to walk in at this moment, it had to be you. 

“I should be asking you the same thing, little boy.” You shuffle the hair on his head, earning an annoyed grunt from him. “The bitch ass pastor’s making me clean the archives in the basement since I... caused some trouble earlier this week.”

“Caused some trouble? Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Felix was beyond offended at this point. If it wasn’t your name-calling of the pastor, it was your dismissal of your actions. “You and your group of friends painted sinful phrases on the side of the church!”

“It was all in good fun, damn. Chill out.” While, yes, spray painting God Loves Lesbians on the wall of the church was questionable, it was fun! And best of all, the pastor said he wouldn’t call authorities if you cleaned the basement. “It was worth it anyway. Did you see the look on his face? Priceless!” 

The boy was boiling with rage, but he held his anger back in fear of cursing or saying the Lord’s name in vain. Despite hating you, part of him wanted to save you. While not being the healthiest mindset, Felix felt like he could save anyone from sin, and he was going to try to save what he called the rodent of the congregation. 

“Now, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?” Your tone of voice edged on sarcasm, you having full knowledge of his nightly prayer. He had calmed down, remembering that he was in a place of the Lord. His face returned from red back to it’s normal hue, and he looked to you with gentle eyes.

“I was praying. I did some questionable things this week too.” His admission to sin took you aback. You didn’t expect everyone’s favorite boy to openly confide in you that he committed an act against his God, something you never thought he would do.

“What kind of questionable things?” Your interest was piqued, and his sudden bluntness was just what you wanted to see. What resides in the mind of Felix?

“I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He looks into his lap, a sudden wave of shyness clouding him. You sit next to him on the pew, patting his back to comfort him. Despite him being so critical of your actions, you did have a soft spot for the sweet boy. “I... pleasured myself.”

You almost burst out into laughter, but you had to suppress that for now, because the most holy person you knew just said he masturbated, and he felt bad about it. As someone who was not shy to doing that specific act among other ungodly things, to see someone repent for doing something totally natural in your eyes was otherworldly. 

“It’s okay, Felix. Sex is natural.” You attempted to comfort him, but you could tell by the deepness in his eyes that he still regretted what he did. Also, when you so casually said the word sex, he winced a bit since he hated the word so much. “You have nothing to be ashamed for. Everyone masturbates.” 

“You don’t understand!” The raise in his voice boomed through the desolate church hall, and you darted your look towards him in shock. “It wasn’t just that.” His voice got soft again, almost a whisper. You lean in to hear him. “I watched the most sinful videos. I thought about myself doing those horrid things. I feel filthy.”

“Lix, I understand completely. Do you think I haven’t done those exact name things?” You raise your eyebrow at him, and he timidly shakes his head. “You’re a young adult. This is normal. Don’t let it eat you up, okay?” 

“Okay.” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine, and it just hit you that you were basically giving him the birds and the bees talk. A comforting smile graces your face as you get up from your seat next to Felix. 

“I should go start cleaning the basement. Mind helping me?” You hold your hand out to him, offering some more time to spend with you. He reluctantly takes your hand, and you help him stand from the pew. You two silently make your way into the damp basement of your church. 

Dust, cobwebs, and the sent of mold cover the dreary basement as you and Felix step down. The conversation in the basement is much more lighthearted, but you can’t shake the image of Felix masturbating out of your head. You’ve never thought of the star child like that before, but his confession made you see him in a new light. He wasn’t above you. He was a teenager driven by sex and hormones like everyone else. 

Once the basement was tidy, books arranged on shelves and dust swept away, you exchanged phone numbers with the boy and headed on your merry way, but that was far from the last time you would hear from Felix.

Over the next two weeks, Felix would text you casually. It started as a nice, wholesome friendship: discussing classes, complaining about personal things, and sharing homework. No matter what the conversation topic was, your mind would wander to the more dark and depraved side of your persona. You wanted to pick his brain on a multitude of topics, but most of all: sex. Since confessing his scandal to you, you wanted to know if he did it again, what he’s into, or even if he’s thought about you.

One night, in a heightened state of mind, you text him a simple question: Have you jerked off since that night? Sure, you regretted it when you sobered up, but you got the answer you wanted... sort of.

I’ve wanted to, but I also want to get into heaven unlike some people. Wow, pointed. However, I have watched more... pornographic films??? Sometimes the girl puts the mans... in her mouth, and it’s scary. Why would someone want to do that?

After explaining to the poor boy what a blowjob is and why it’s amazing, he takes two days to respond to your text, something he’s never done before. It was radio silence, and you didn’t bother to try to garner a response, because you knew Felix was busy

After waiting what seemed like an eternity for a response, you got what you were praying for, and you were worried this would happen.

I’m sorry if this comes off as aggressive, but will you show me a blowjob? Like, perform a blowjob on me? I take back what I said about getting into heaven. I can always beg for forgiveness, but right now, I’m really frustrated. 

You’ve created a monster. 

When Felix escapes the attic after you give him what you believe to be his first sexual encounter with another person, you quietly reenter the congregation as if you didn’t just cause the prettiest church boy to bust a load on himself minutes before. 

“Darling, there you are!” Your mother holds her arms out to you after what you presumed to be a particularly moving speech from the pastor. “We’re having dinner with the Lee family tonight, and I’d expect you to be on your best behavior. Would you like to join us?” 

“I’d be happy to go, mom.” Fuck fuck fuck. This was supposed to be a one time thing, and as much as the idea of teasing Felix in front of his family excited you, you’d hate to get caught by your own family, although the devil in you was very willing to take that risk for the slightest bit of sexual satisfaction. 

“Great! We’ll head over at 5 o’clock. Please dress up, dear. Your current shirt looks wrinkled. What were y-” 

“I’ll dress up, don’t worry!” You cut her off, and her face scrunches, but you’d rather not have to deal with the wrath of your mother. Your father returns to your mother after having a short conversation with Felix’s father.

“Mr. Lee said Felix could be a good influence on you, Y/n.” The temptation to roll your eyes was strong considering the preceding events. “Pay attention to how he talks to his parents. You could learn something, sweetheart.”

As much as you wanted to cause a scene in the church from your father’s condescending tone, you were more focused on getting home and changing your soaked, ruined panties. Your family says their casual goodbyes to the other churchgoers, and you make your way back to the family car, hoping your father speeds home. 

“Honey, it’s time to go!” Your mother puts in her second earring as she yells up to your room from the bottom of the stairs. Your door wings open to reveal you in a short red skirt, low-cut white shirt, white dress shoes, and bright red lipstick. “You’re wearing that?”

“It’s fine, ma! Nothing they haven’t seen before!” You whisk past your mother and slide into the backseat of the family car, ready to have dinner with the boy of your nightmares. 

When you enter the Lee family household, you can tell Felix’s parents are judging you, but you didn’t dress like that for them. When Felix turns the corner and faces you, his eye practically bulge out of his head. His gaze is glued to your thighs, hips, bust, and lips, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Judging by the sudden tightening in his pants, he clearly enjoys the view.

“Hello! Welcome to our house,” Felix’s mother escorts you inside to the living room. “Make yourself at home until dinner is ready.” She disappears into the kitchen while Felix’s father sits down on the couch and invites you and your family to sit with him. Felix shyly sits next to his father, although there was hardly any room for him to sit there. 

Your father and Felix’s father start talking about sports, while your mother goes on her phone. You make eye contact with Felix from across the couch, and his whole body tenses and he breaks into a nervous sweat. Aw, she’s so pretty, what do I do, what do I do, frick, frick, fuck.

Without saying a word, Felix gets up and runs out of the living room. Everyone darts their attention towards him, but no one tries to stop him. 

“Dinner’s re- where did Felix go?” His mother enters the living room, but her announcement is halted by the absence of her son. Everyone looks at each other, no one having answers for Felix's tantrum. "Would someone go get him please?"

"I got him." Your devious smirk should set the crowd off, but you make your way up the stairs to where you see Felix's bedroom door. His door had his name on it, so it was pretty clear what room was his.

"Go away." The second he hears your knock, he throws a pillow at his door, as if that would stop you from barging in. You see him sat on his bed, arms crossed, another pillow over his crotch, and his lip in a pout. "Why did you come here wearing that?"

He was definitely on the defense, and you've never seen Felix this angry since the night in the church. "I just thought this outfit was cute." Playing innocent might not have been the best idea at this moment, but you just had to calm him down and get him out to dinner.

"Yeah, it's a nice outfit, but I can see your butt whenever you turn around, and your cleavage is out, and I'm just very confused." He was frustrated at himself more than you. You sit next to him and put your hand on his shoulder, a familiar scene.

"Come down for dinner, and afterwards, I'll show you what I have under this outfit, okay babe?" Felix was so painfully tensed, every nerve of his was on edge. Your words were filthy, but he loved it so much.

He can't stop thinking about you. He wants to do everything to your body: eat you out, fuck your tits, spank your ass. He wants to do every sinful thing he's seen in those videos. Just imagining seeing you in your underwear makes him want to bust in his pants. You're driving him insane, and if Felix from a few weeks ago had seen what he has become, he would be disgusted.

You two make your way downstairs, Felix staring at your ass the entire time, and take your seats at the table. The dinner table was a circle, so you were seated right between Felix and your mother. Not the sexiest setting, but that wouldn't stop you.

The food was delicious, but halfway through, you placed your hand on Felix's thigh, and although you had him pecking the back of your throat earlier that day, he was still extremely sensitive to every touch. When your hand slid up his leg, he let out the quietest moan, and although the table was full of chatter between your parents, you were able to hear the precious sounds leaving Lee Felix as you swiped your hand across his twitching bulge.

Felix grabs your wrist and throws your arm back to you. He gives you a death stare, but his eyes are dark, and he looks so fucking needy. You meet his gaze and adjust your top, pulling it even lower than it already was. His eyes are glued to your tits, but you point down to your crotch, where you're fingering your self under the table. Felix bites his lip, but goes back to eating his food.

You take your wet finger and wipe it against his pant leg. Jesus fucking Christ, you were breaking this boy. His bulge was painfully large, and again, he felt like he could bust in his pants.

"I'm wet for you, baby boy. When dinner's over, do you want to taste me?" You whisper in his ear, and he closes his eyes tightly, trying not to fully fall for your tricks. His pathetic nod is all you need to go back to finishing your dinner, and he does the same, but his mind is fogged with the image of your naked body bouncing on his cock. So pathetic. So, so pathetic.

Dinner ends, Felix's mom takes the plates, and you and Felix disappear back into his room while the adults have their alone time to drink and chat. When he locks the door, you pin him to the wall and lick your lips. You stare him up and down, watching him as he panics. Everything he wanted to do to you escapes him, and he's putty in your hands.

Speechless, Felix rests his hands flush against the wall and tilts his head backwards, giving you full access to his neck. You take the opportunity to make dark hickeys along his neck, which will definitely be visible to his parents later. Your tongue against his skin makes him shudder, and mindless whimpers escape his lips.

"If you ever want to stop, the safe word is red, or snap twice. I'll only go as far as you want to, Lix." He nods, repeats what you said, and you go back to work on his neck.

"C-can I taste you?" His words are feint, but you're more than happy to take his request. You slip your skirt down to the floor and take off your tight shirt, giving Felix a full show of your lingerie you wore just for him.

"You've become such a whore for me, Lix." You traced his body with your hands, sliding your fingertips over his abs and chest. "Do you even know what to do with my pussy, huh? You're so innocent, I doubt you'd be able to make me cum."

His heart was racing, and he wanted nothing more than to prove you wrong. While, yes, he had no idea what he was doing, he wanted to taste your sweet release coat his tongue.

"Teach me." He was being bold. You'd never thought you'd see Felix this confident in this setting, especially since he was admitting to being inexperienced. You took his hands in yours and lead him to the bed. He watched you as you sat on the edge of the bed and spread your legs, giving him full access to your dripping cunt.

"Get on your knees, baby boy." He did as instructed, but this was the first time he was on his knees next to his bed to do anything other than pray. His hands ghosted over your thighs, scared to touch you without your permission.

"May I take off your panties?" You nod and lift your hips, allowing him to slide them down your legs. A string of wetness connected you with your panties, and Felix's mouth was watering. Your panties were discarded across the room, and you unhooked your bra and tossed it with the rest of your clothes. "Woah, you're so gorgeous."

You pet his blushing, freckled cheek, and coax him closer to your heat. His lips are hardly centimeters away from you, and you gently tangle your hand in his hair. "Lick my pussy, naughty boy. I know you want to."

Felix bites his lip before diving into your pussy, his tongue exploring every fold. Even though he doesn't know where the clitoris is, he knows that when he licks the top of your pussy, your thighs shake around him, so he circles his tongue through your cunt, and you give him the sweetest praise.

"Such a good boy for me, yeah?" You smile down at him, and the eye contact is intoxicating. You tighten around nothing when his tongue perfectly flicks over your clit. "Finger me, please, baby.”

He inserts his index finger into your core, and it feels like heaven to both of you. Felix imagines it's his cock inside you, and the thought of you tightening around him urges him to take his tight pants off without removing his mouth from your pussy.

"Bend your finger, my slutty little boy. Make your mistress cum on your pretty face." Your high was approaching, and you wanted Felix to work for it. He fucked his finger into you, adding his middle finger in the process. The more he looked at your heat, the more nervous he got, but from the wetness covering his fingers and lips, you didn't notice how nervous he was.

His fingers perfectly pushed into your g-spot, and your orgasm got miles closer. Your moans got louder, and no matter how close your parents were to hearing, you didn't quiet down. Felix loved your moans, and his cock twitches in his underwear.

"You're so hot, Y/n, please cum for me." His voice was hoarse and desperate, but you weren't that easy.

"Suck my clit. Make me cum all over your face, cutie." He aimlessly sucked at your folds, but when he found your clit, he never left that spot. Your violent moans of pleasure made him groan onto your clit, sending you over the edge. Your essence covered his fingers, and he lapped up every bit of your release. "Good boy."

You were out of breath, but Felix just started. He stood up and sat in your lap. You placed your hands on his hips, squeezing him and making him jolt. His erection was painfully pressed against his tight boxers, and you hooked your finger around the waistband and pulled them down his thighs. Although it had only been a few hours, his length never failed to impress you.

"Please fuck me, Y/n. I want to feel you on me." He was so desperate for any sort of touch. You lazily wrapped your hand around his cock and started stroking, but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you. "Ride me."

"Very demanding for a little slut, don't you think?" You throw him off your lap, his back harshly slamming onto the bed. Your legs surround his hips as you line your entrance with his cock, and he squeezes his eyes shut. His hands held onto your thighs as if it were life or death, and for him, it was.

Right before you lowered yourself onto him, he felt every negative thought enter his mind. What if I'm not good enough? What if I cum too soon? What if she hates me? What would my parents say if they caught us? God, please forgive me.

You see him grit his teeth, and you stop. You gently pet his cheek again, bringing him back to earth, and more importantly, bringing his attention back on your dripping core hanging over his cock.

Without warning, Felix grabs your hips and pushes you down onto him. He loses all control, and you love it. You stay still once he bottoms out, his face contorting into questionable expressions from the pleasure overwhelming him. He calms down, and you start to ride him, his cock sliding against your walls and filling you up perfectly.

You throw your head back and quicken your pace, chasing your second orgasm. Felix feels himself on the edge, but he holds back, fearful of what will happen if he cums inside you.

"Fuck, Felix, you feel so good." Your moans are so load, and the creaking of the bed is deafening. Felix's deep grunts and growls sound amazing, and his grip on your hips is tight enough to bruise. "So good, baby boy, so good."

His finger lingers to the familiar spot that is your clitoris, although Felix doesn't know that fully. He circles his finger around your sensitive bud, and his other hand grips your tit. His hands feel so good, and with one more press into your g-spot, you coat his cock in your cum. He thrusts into you when you tighten around him, and his orgasm is threatening to release, but he refuses to be the father of a child with someone who he is not married to.

You ride out your high on his cock, and when you return back to earth, you remove yourself and harshly wrap your hand around his cock. Your pumps are violent, and his body is aching for an orgasm. You bend over and lick the tip, his cum coating your tongue and face. He opens his eyes, cum squirted onto your face, and he's sure you'll be mad at him, but you lick your lips, collect his cum from your face, and swallow every last drop.

Without a word, you topple over next to him, and you rest your head on his chest. He hesitantly wraps his arm around you, and you muzzle into him.

"You're so good for me, Felix." You whisper into him, but he hear every word. He smiles, unable to speak after the intense orgasm he just experienced. "We need to go back downstairs, you know?"

After a few moments of silence, Felix speaks up. "Y/n, this is... wrong." He sits up, your head falling onto the bed and his arms holding him up. "We shouldn't have done this."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, b-"

"Then nothing is wrong." You pat his back, admiring the defined muscles. You sit up with him and look at the clothes scattered across the room. "Sex isn't bad, Lix."

"This just goes against what I've been taught my entire life." He pauses, deep in thought. "Sex is good." He repeats under his breath.

You stand up and stretch, your ass catching Felix's eye. He sighs and accepts his actions, clearing his floor of the discarded clothing and getting dressed again.

"Felix, can I borrow a hoodie?" You hold up a hoodie from the local Christian radio station, and Felix shrugs. "Thanks, babe."

"Y/n, do you like me?" You stop in your tracks after Felix's question, and you honestly don't know how to answer. Did you like Lee Felix?

"I'm not sure, but maybe we could go on a date sometime." Your tone was casual, but your mind was racing. Before this, you thought you didn't have feelings for the cute little church boy, but now that you've been confronted with it, you didn't know how to feel.

"... Sure."

[potatosoldier]

Are you still there?

  /Part 7/

I am hot, I am sweaty, and I am crammed into a small cot surrounded by equally sweaty men. It was the 6th of September, and we had just boarded the Great Samaria a few hours ago. We were now on a journey to Europe. 

How they managed to jam us into this ship, I have no clue. It isn’t like there is 20 men over the capacity of this ship. No, this ship was made for 1000 passengers and now there were 5000 men from the 506th shoved in. I could have made the choice and went to the officers and made my stay there, I want to be near the men. 

“Joe, darling, your shoulders are like barn doors, I can’t fit”

Oh yes, as the passenger count was so high, the cots were shared by two soldiers. I was sharing with Joe. At first I also considered going to Skip, but then I came to a conclusion that I could stand Joe’s singing in this suppressed place, but listening to Skip talk non-stop would make me an irritable person. And I truly did not want to become that. These men are my companions and I want to treat the with the respect they deserve. I did not have the right to become rude even in these circumstances. 

Also, if I was put too high, Bull would have to carry me around like a baby monkey. 

“For God’s sake, just turn the other way”, Joe grunts as I try to maneuver myself without jostling the cot too much.  

“Joe, please move”, I whine and try to push him. He rasps and looks at me teasing smile on his lips. 

“you wanna continue trying, Bambi”, he teases. I scrunch my brows and pout. Why did he have to make this so difficult. Then I put on my most motherly glare. “Joseph Toye, this is not how you should behave”, I scold. 

He chuckles once again, but proceeds to move over so I’m finally able to fit in next to him on the cot. It was a tight squeeze, both of us were on top of the bed springs, but we tried to be so that it’s the least uncomfortable. Physically and mentally. 

“So you told Muck, huh?”, he whispers once we are in and he hears Skip talking while making his way around the ship. I nod as we both look at the cot above us. “You sure that was a good idea?”, he asks. I could hear in his voice that he didn’t doubt Skip personally, but he was just checking in. 

I smile. “He has been good to me since I came here, He won’t betray me now. And it does feel good to let it out”, I tell. He nods. 

“So, what do you think about going to Europe?”, he asks. I shrug. “I’m glad I’m here, maybe we can speed up the process of ending this war and Matias and dad can go back home”, I answer. Matias was my older brother. I think he is the reason I’m so fond of Skip and Luz, Matias was such a jokester too. It broke my heart to think of him out there somewhere, fighting for his life. 

“I’m glad we’re going to Europe too. Hitler gets one of these right across the windpipe, Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day and 10,000 a year for the rest of my fucking life”, he says in a much louder voice. 

I look at him trying not to laugh. “Joe, I promise I’ll celebrate Joe Toye Day from now on even if you don’t succeed”, I manage to say without laughing. 

“What if we don’t get to Europe, what if they send us to North Africa”, Smokey points out from above us. 

The conversation doesn’t awfully concern me, till I hear these words: “ I like Winters, he is a good man. But when bullets start flying, I don’t know if I want a Quaker doing my fighting for me”

My head turns sharply up towards Bill’s bed. My blood starts running cold with the rage I’m feeling. He had the audacity to condemn someone by their religion and to add to that doubt MY husbands skills in combat. 

“How do you know he’s a Quaker?”

“He ain’t Catholic”

I’m about to jump up and teach the boy some manners when, Joe apparently notices my open mouth and shoves my head under a blanket. And by shoving, I mean shoving. Nothing gentle about it. I can only imagine the looks people are throwing at us. 

“Okay Bambi up we go” he then says and starts lifting me up, my head still covered. I can hear Liebgott and Bill still having a spat and am about to turn to go towards the noise, but Joe keeps me covered till we are away from the scene.

“You need some fresh air, you angry hedgehog, to he deck we go”, Joe says and pushes people around to make us way forward. He really saved me from making a mistake. 

With Richard

The Boat was far from comfortable, that was the only thing Richard Winters would say to the circumstances at hand. Last time he had been this hot, was while running in full gear in Toccoa. 

“They really filled this Troop ship to the brink”, Lewis says looking just as sweaty as his friend. “If I’m going to be this hot, I’d rather have 5000 ladies here. At least there would be something to look at”, Nix says. 

“Yeah, and by the time you’d make it to your destination they’d have eaten you alive, after finding out about Kathy”, Dick teases. Keeping your mind light in situations like this was the key to keeping your head together. His friend had his own lightness hidden in Dick’s footlocker. 

Lewis let’s out his trademark chuckle. “Easy for you to say”, he snarks back. Dick knows exactly what he means. It was easy for Dick to judge other men for seeking affection because his own wife was there. 

Dick only looks at his friend with a dry look and they remain silent for a while. 

“Never thought this day would actually come, of course I knew it was coming, but hell we’ve come a long way”, Nix says and takes a swig from his flask. Dick lets out a small huff. It really was a miracle that Sobel hadn’t found some way to get rid off them. 

“You think we can make it Nix, back home I mean”, Dick asks thoughtfully and plays with his fingers. It was a curious question, not one of sadness or fear. 

“That’s not for us to decide, but hey I’ll drink to the thought of seeing your children some day”; he says raising his flask in what was supposed to be a happy remark, but when he sees Dick’s face, all the happiness goes away. 

He furrows his brows and looks at his friend more closely. “You okay Dick?”, he asks while still studying his now pale friend. Dick just continues looking ahead like he was not there at all. 

“Yeah, Nix, I’m okay”, he finally whispers and they drop the topic replacing it  with silence. 

Sonja / Day 3 on the Samaria/

“Better out than in, there we go”, George says as he brushes some of my hair back. I had been throwing up for the last two hours. I wasn’t sure was it the sea or the smell of the fish soup that made me so nauseous. 

“I fe- ugh”, I puke again in the middle of my sentence. I was not the only one throwing up, no. But I felt very embarrassed to be in this situation. I was a nurse, not a patient. 

Suddenly a pounding of boots is heard and I feel someone place themselves on the other side of me. “There we go, a Hershey bar for the lady. Got it from Winters, tried scrounging and he was kind enough to offer when he passed”, Skip says as he opens the wrapper for me. 

And what I can take from his story is that, that he went to tell Richard I’m unwell and Richard gave him the bar. 

“Thank you”, I whisper and take the piece Skip snaps me. Luz takes the bucket from my hands and gives water to rinse my mouth.  “For a small lady, you sure puke your guts out like a grown man”, Luz teases. 

“Shut up, I’m only three inches shorter than you”, I grumble and lean against him while savoring the chocolate to get the taste of vomit out. He only chuckles and makes a mocking “UGH” noise. 

“Thank you boys for getting me out, I thought Joe was going to kill me”,I giggle softly. They both huff in laughter. “I mean you did puke on his chest”, Skip points out. I grimace, that I sure did. His chest and neck where running with fish soup after I retched on him. 

“Someone get her a bucket, fucking hell, if someone isn’t gonna help her, Imma kill every fucking one of you”

“Skip, go get us some cards, I don’t think she can handle the sweat level yet”, George says as he strokes my back, as I gag again a little. 

How long was I going to be stuck on this boat.

----------------------

The night was awful, I felt sickly and I noticed that Joe was turning more than usual, probably because of the back pain. We were lucky enough to fit on the cot so that we could both sleep in it, but nothing seemed to get me catch sleep. I was afraid of throwing up again. 

“Nurse”, I hear a whisper. I jump and look up. Even in the dim lighting I can recognize my husband. I carefully stand without jostling Joe too much, and gently put the blanket on him again, after raising it up a little to get a little cool air on him. 

“Yes sir?”,I ask professionally as I stand before Richard. He just nods his head towards the deck. 

As we make it to the deck we quickly and quietly find a corner with no one sleeping in it. He takes a look around and has a seat. Before taking something out from his pocket: chocolate.

“Richard, you don’t have a sweet tooth, how do you have all these”;I ask looking at him oddly. 

“I got this from Nix, he was willing to sacrifice it for I quote ‘holy business’“, I giggle at my husbands expression as he quotes Lewis. I take the bar from him and put it next to me. I honestly felt too sickly to eat it now. 

I look at Dick biting my lip. He seems to notice the softness in my gaze as he utters a gentle “come here”, and gently guides me to lay my upper body onto his legs. 

“Don’t worry, darling. I can keep watch, and if they ask more, I can say that I was just looking out for you as your officer”, he soothes and rubs his hand along my arms. Which feels amazing on my sore muscles. 

“I think it’s time to tell the men soon anyway. They need to get used to the idea before we jump, and I think that they know you well enough to not judge you”, he then brings up. I nod against his leg, this living in secrecy was starting to become more and more difficult. 

I then squeeze my eyes shut as nausea takes over me. “Richie I think I might puke”,I whimper. I always got very stressed when I had nausea, and sensitive. “I don’t wanna puke on you”,I say and try to rise, but in all honestly rising just made it worse.

Richard guides me back gently. “If you puke on me, then you do. Don’t worry about that. Let’s just get you comfortable”

----------------------

On the 15th of September we finally made it to Liverpool. I was still quite pale after the ride. Eating had really become a task, and without food, you lose strength. But with the threats from Joe and gentle urging from Carwood Lipton, I was able to get food down. 

“You feelin’ good ma’am?”, comes a familiar Arkansas drawl as I give a happy sigh to be on the steady ground. I chuckle “Aye, sir, better than ever”, I say teasingly. He mock salutes me and we start walking for our shelter for the night. 

I walk on Joe’s side keeping a firm hold of his sleeve as I had been told by Lip.

“We don’t want you getting lost, you are harder to find than most of us”

At first I had wanted to tell him that I am a grown woman with military training, but his truly caring gaze changed my plans.  If I could express in words, how thankful I was for that mans care I would shout it at his too humble face. Okay, these boys are really rubbing off on me, I wouldn’t shout, maybe gently lecture. 

Tomorrow we would be going to our final destination. 

-------------------

Aldbourne was vastly different from all the places I’ve had my training and from what the men told me, it was also very different to them. We were in the middle of a village! We could actually see other people. 

“Come on Sonja, please, please please”, Skip was begging on his knees. We had gotten our passes to go to Swindon for a Saturday night dance this weekend. The boys were all excited about being able to go and actually getting the passes this time. 

“Skip, you know I get uncomfortable with many people, also it’ll be nice to have some time alone”, I try to reason as he keeps pushing my skirt and blouse towards my hands. 

He looks at me with his green puppy eyes. “please, Bambi, for me, Joe is coming too. Aren’t you? Hear that Joe is there too”, he begs. I sigh and look at both of them. 

“Okay, but when I say want to come back, I will”, I say pointing at him. 

“Yes!!”

-------------------

I didn’t put on my skirt and blouse, instead I took out my light blue swing dress and let my hair down. It was nice to feel girly again, and actually have a reason to get dolled up. That was not the best part, the best part was actually putting my wedding ring onto my finger. I gave a small kiss to my cross and said a little prayer of gratitude before going to the boys. 

The boys were happy to have me, their lady with them. 

“Your husband is one lucky bastard”. George had said when he saw me. Bull had even blushed when I gave him a kiss on the cheek as thanks for helping me with my jacket. 

All the girls in the dance were dolled up too. I found the music in there absolutely delightful. It might have not been completely in my taste, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Also the sound of shoes clapping against the floor was beautifully relaxing. 

“Would my lady like to dance?”, Skip asks bowing at the waste. I shake my head at his antics but take his hand none the less. And boy did I make a mistake. I was tosses from Skip to George, to Bull, to Joe, to Don (who mind you, was an excellent dancer!) and god knows who. The Easy boys really decided to hit the floor. 

Once I was able to make a run from them, I found Joe drinking a beer at one of the tables. “You having fun?”; he asks and takes a long sip. I nod and smile widely. 

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been able to dance so much! But I do wonder”, I bite my lip. “Am I a bad person to be here, without Richard?”; I whisper. 

Joe shakes his head. “You’re too good for this world. There ain’t nothing wrong with you being here. He trusts you and you trust him. And hell, you were giggling like a school girl when you realized you still had time to go to him after this. You aren’t committing any sin”, he soothes with a little teasing making me blush. 

Who can blame me, I just want to grab my Robert Burns poems and go read with Richards head on my lap. Was that really too much to ask for? He was my husband.

We continue our conversation, with me sipping a cup of water, until I hear a similar interruption as in the boat. 

Bill and Skinny make it to our table chatting. “He might be a good man, but Quakers aren’t meant for this shit” My patience had been running thin with these comments for so long and now my patience was all run out.

“He is not a Quaker”, I snap. Bill turns to me with an odd look on his face. 

“And how do you know that Bambi”, many of the Easy men were now near our table from hearing my raised voice. 

I don’t know what made it come out of my mouth, but this did anyway: “If my husband was a Quaker I think I’d be the one who knows that and not you”

I quickly realize what I said and plant my palm against my face, trying to remember how to breathe. I hear Joe sigh from next to me: “Well, now you fucking said it”

@iilovemusic12us​

@georgeparisole​

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 21

First  -  Previous  -  Next

I know I keep saying this, but unless my life suddenly slows down soon, updates will be slowed. This one was so close to being late. I have a layout for the story, I just don’t have the spare time to write. I am about to lose a commitment, though, so maybe things will work out!

cw: arguing, panic attack, angst

~

“You don't need a job.”

“Yes I do! I can't just let you and Remus support me, I'm an adult!”

“You're still recovering. You don't even know what a job would be like in this world.”

“Then let me find out!”

“Patton, no. This is not up for debate any longer.”

Patton stood up suddenly, shoving his chair back with a loud screeeech. For a moment, his anger boiled, so near to the surface, as he contemplated walking out of the apartment and getting himself a job.

Instead, he shoved the feelings down and stormed into his room, slamming the door shut. How could Father be so—so—!

All he wanted was to feel like he was actually contributing something. Sure, he was still in three kinds of therapy, but Father couldn't pay for that all himself, even with his two jobs. He couldn’t expect Remus to help, either—Remus was his own person with his own ambitions.

Patton picked up his pillow, only to throw it as hard as he could at the bed. He took a couple of deep breaths, then did it again. He was an adult, he could do anything Father or Remus could do, and he wanted to help! He wanted to see the Outside, interact with people from Out, learn what life was like here. He hadn't gone anywhere yet except his therapy appointments, which were all in the same cluster of buildings, so it wasn't like he was being exposed to a wide variety of stimuli.

Something was off, but Patton shook the feeling away. He was too mad to try and figure it out. Father didn't have much money at all, they were skating by on very little and Patton could help with that! He could help his family stay safe and alive, and here, with him.

Patton had felt helpless his whole life. There was always something, someone, to be afraid of. There was always something, someone, to hold him in place. He was always trapped. He'd thought, for months, that getting out would mean a sunny life full of smiles, a life with love and happiness.

This wasn't happiness. This wasn't sunshine, and certainly not smiles. This was being locked away, only leaving to see doctors who tried to 'fix' him, only to—

Patton fell to his knees, clutching his head as he tried to shut the memories out. There was panic rising in his chest, dousing the anger like cold water with fire, and he didn't know why. Where was Virgil, why wasn't he here? Where was his jacket—there, on the desk. So where was Virgil? Why wasn't he here, where was Father, please, not again, please—

The door.

The door was closed, and Patton hadn't closed it, had he? Someone shut him in. Someone had shut him in, and they weren't going to let him out. No, not okay, not at all okay. There was no way for him to tell someone to let him out, he couldn't ask for help!

Why wouldn't Father let him learn to talk?

Patton crawled over to the door, shaking fearfully as he reached up for the doorknob. Part of him was holding him back, insisting that if he didn't know that the door was locked then it couldn't be locked. Instead of giving in to that, he turned the handle, and—

It opened, with just a little bit of resistance of dragging along the carpet, and Patton fell over in relief. He was safe, he was at home with Father, he wasn't confined to a room. He noticed that his face was hot, and reached up to find tears.

Patton felt a little embarrassed, now that he realized that nothing had been wrong. He'd just been freaking out over nothing. Probably something he'd have to talk about with one of his therapists.

He got to his feet, his legs shaking a bit, which reminded him suddenly of Virgil. Patton felt a pang as he thought of his lost love. Remus had said that Virgil had gotten out for certain, but he didn't know anything else. He couldn't believe it—they both finally got freedom, escaped to the same place, yet their paths hadn't crossed. They'd been separated, before they even got to see each other.

The house vibrated, and Patton peered out his door to see Remus kicking his shoes off in front of the front door. He was saying something to Father, his mouth moving at lightning speed.

Patton withdrew into his room, taking a moment to pull on Virgil's jacket before falling back onto his bed. His heart was still thumping wildly, adrenaline surging through him. Everything was fine, though. Not good, necessarily. But fine.

-

Remus flopped onto the couch beside Logan, letting a drawn-out sigh hiss out of him. Logan watched him impassively, though there was a crease between his brows, and he didn't look all that present.

“You good, Lolo?” Remus asked. He scratched his mustache absently, not at all missing Logan's quick glance to Patton's room.

The kid was cool, if a bit jumpy. He and Logan had been butting heads a bit lately, and today must have been the day of another angry hands match. Remus wasn't really able to keep up, but Logan had filled him in—Patton wanted a job, and to learn how to read lips and talk. Like that one lady, but without the blind part or whatever.

Remus was on Patton's side, sort of—the kid needed out, and that was fair. He'd needed out to, which was why he got a job at the gas station thirty minutes out. Gave him time to drive, think. Laugh at the music on the radio. Pretend he was collecting a string of coins on the road. Fun stuff, free stuff. Pat pretty clearly needed some of that, and Logan was definitely motherhenning.

On the other hand, though, the three were barely keeping afloat. After payments for Patton's therapy (which they had financial aid for, too), there was only just enough to cover bills and food and whatall. They hadn't even been able to buy Pat more clothes, he was just re-wearing the same two or three outfits over and over. Which played into why he wanted a job—another person with a job meant more money, but even that wouldn't be enough money to cover lipreading lessons, let alone speaking lessons.

Who would hire a deaf kid, anyway?

Deaf young adult, Remus reminded himself. Patton was only a handful of years younger than him. He wasn't a kid, and he probably didn't want to be called a kid.

Suddenly, Remus realized that Logan was talking. He really needed to stop getting lost in thought.

“I can't let that happen,” Logan was saying. “Not again.”

Ah, they'd reached the part of the day where Logan talked about how guilty he felt. Lovely to tune in to!

“Lo, I get it. You've given me this spiel like eight million times already,” Remus said. “You love Patty, blah blah your fault, blah blah blah kidnapping, not safe blah blah. Come up with new material.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but he seemed to have broken out of his self-deprecating cycle, so Remus had succeeded.

“Why don't we talk to the school district?” Remus continued. “They've gotta have some deaf kids, and Pat could be a translator or something, I don't know.” He'd been thinking about it for a few days now. If there was anyone who needed a translator full-time, it was a school. He'd thought about other places—a church (nope bad memories probably), the post office (too many people), a motel (too shifty). Not to mention, all the places wouldn't need him regularly. The school seemed like the best bet. Logan, however, shook his head without even considering it.

“No, he doesn't know the first thing about a school.” Remus snapped his fingers. “Perfect place to learn! Good thinking!”

“That is not what I mean. I don't feel comfortable putting him in a situation where he would have to regularly deal with normal people.” Logan adjusted his glasses, his hand running up from there to trail through his hair. “He's not ready. It isn't safe for him until we can adjust his therapy schedule to include sensitivity training. It will take him years to be able to get a job, according to the timeline I've drawn up. Not to mention, in order to get a decent, respectable job, he must undertake a college education at a reputable university.”

That was completely wrong, and ruled out trade schools and apprenticeships. It also stung, pretty badly. Logan knew full well that Remus hadn't been to college. Remus tried to not let the hurt show on his face as he stopped listening to Logan's tirade.

He was wrong. Little Patty-Cake could totally survive in the real world. But how to prove it to him?

-

Patton was reading, sprawled out on his bed, several days after the fight when he saw his door move slightly out of the corner of his eye. He sat up to see Remus waving at him. He sent a casual wave back, before returning to his book. He was learning a lot—the book's main characters all worshiped differently. He hadn't even known that there was more than one religion.

His bed dipped, which meant that Remus had come in and sat on his bed. Patton took his time finishing his page. Eventually, Remus waved in his face.

“That's rude, you know,” Patton signed, finally placing a bookmark in the book and closing it. “What do you need?”

Remus took a moment, repeating Patton's sentences in miniature as he worked his way through it. Then he bounced a little bit, smiled, and pulled something out of the tote bag on his shoulder that Patton hadn't noticed until now.

A book.

Another one?

Patton didn't want to complain, but he had so many books already. Father was always going to the library in between shifts, bringing a new thing to read. He had six or seven to catch up on still, he didn't need another. And he was getting a little bored of reading.

Remus raised his eyebrows expectantly, holding it out, gesturing for Patton to take it. He did, watching Remus's excited eyes for a moment before turning his attention to the title.

Lip-Reading Principles And Practice: A Hand-book for Teacher and for Self-Instruction.

No.

Really?

Patton smiled, huge, hope building in his chest. Remus grinned toothily, and rereading the title was all it took for Patton to be launching into Remus's chest with a hug.

He was really going to learn! He could really do this! He released the laughing Remus to run his hands across the lightly damaged cover reverently, then hugged Remus again.

He couldn't wait to get started.

~

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog  @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides @awkwardandanxiousfander @thekitchenpan @im-an-anxious-wreck

[ijustwant2write]

My Beliefs-Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley

(GIF credit to @uuuhshiny​)

Masterlist

Anonymous requested: ‘Hi, can i request an imagine with Crowley and Aziraphale with an Ex-Jehovas witness that’s now atheist as their s/o? And like their s/o freaks out a bit because did they really Get disowned just to find out that god is real? Preferably Poly but write whatever you’re comfortable with!’

Characters: Aziraphale x Reader (platonic), Crowley x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mentions of religion/faiths, disbelief/atheist, some swearing

(A/N: I didn’t write them as a relationship and also I try not to mention beliefs within these religions, as I myself am not religious and do not know enough to write about them)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Aziraphale?” (Y/N) called out in the book shop, seeing as there were no customers.

“Yes?” his voice was muffled, due to being stuck behind a pile of books in his hands.

(Y/N) walked out from behind the bookshelf, seeing her friend in need of some assistance. She quickly took half of the books before they could topple out of his hands. He smiled, thanking her with a sigh of relief before going back to what he was doing.

“I don’t want to sound too...well, forward when I ask this. But how are you so amendment that God is real?” 

Aziraphale was surprised by his friend’s question, especially since they had not spoken for a half hour.“I suppose I believe in His mysterious ways. There have been times where I feel as if God has been by my side, He has guided me through hard times.”

“Hm.” (Y/N) hummed, thinking over his answer.

“And why would you ask that?”

“I saw my friends the other day. I haven’t really spoken to them since I stopped believing in my faith, which isn’t right, I know. And it just got me thinking...I used to be such a strong believer, and then suddenly someone I love dies...all those things they tell you, it didn’t happen. I didn’t feel anything, I didn’t feel that God was beside me, or at least watching me.”

Aziraphale felt his body stiffen, a slight tension rising in the room; not because she didn’t believe in a religion, but he knew it had been a difficult time when she expressed her true feelings. She wanted it all to be true, however, death was too much, it was cruel. Why hadn’t God (or anyone up there) helped her through the grief? Aziraphale had seen this too many times, and it saddened him that his Lord was no longer inspiring the people on Earth, He made them question everything.  

“I’m sorry.” (Y/N) waved her free hand, dismissing the conversation.“It was a very sudden and topical question, I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“No, no, no.” Aziraphale kindly smiled at her, placing down his books and removing the pile from hers.“My dear, I understand how you feel, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up about it either.”

“I’ve spent my whole life like that. Then last year it all changed. I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about it recently.”

“You’ve settled into a routine, you’re mind is at ease to think about whatever it wants. And at this moment, it wants to gain knowledge as to why you left that part of your life.”

“It would be nice to have a sign, from a religious side or not, to see if it is real you know? Finally bring peace to my thoughts.”

Aziraphale shared one last smile as (Y/N) walked away, going back to organising the books. It quickly disappeared as he thought about his friend’s words. He was an angel, he was full proof that there was a God. Yet cruel irony forbid him to reveal himself. What if she took it the wrong way? Perhaps (Y/N) would think it was all a joke, or she would freak out, accuse him of keeping such a secret. Religion was a huge thing, it had started wars for God’s sake. But (Y/N) wasn’t herself, and the fact that Aziraphale could help her (though shouldn’t) gave him a headache thinking about it.

As he tried to come up with a plan, the door was loudly opened, a striking Crowley sauntering in. He lowered his glasses, revealing the yellow snake eyes for just a few seconds before he pushed them back up his nose. No one was here, but best not risk it. 

“Angel! Business does not seem to be booming.” He loudly announced himself.

Aziraphale jumped at the sound of his voice, frantically looking around for (Y/N) as he made his way to the front of the shop. He shushed his demon friend as he scurried towards him.

“This isn’t a library Aziraphale, people can make noise in here.”

“It’s not that, there’s someone else here.”

“Ah, right. Woops.”

“It’s (Y/N). I need to speak to you about her.”

“Didn’t tale you as one for having crushes.”

Aziraphale fluttered his hands about.“No! Nothing like that. It’s about her religion.”

“Ooo, that could be a touchy subject. Haven’t had a serious conversation in a while.”

He gestured for Crowley to follow him, tucked away at the back of the bookshop. Crowley wasn’t nearly as skittish as his angel companion, enjoying the shenanigans that was about to pursue.

“Did she catch you speaking with upstairs then?” Crowley smirked, knowing he would get under Aziraphale’s feathers.

“(Y/N) asked me why I think God is real.”

“How did you go about that then?”

“I told her how I felt.”

“You don’t mean-”

“No, I didn’t tell her who I am, who we are! But-”

“Ah, there’s a but.”

“But,” Aziraphale clenched his hands together, almost in a prayer-like fashion,“would it be so bad just to tell her?”

“Why would you do that?”

“She’s lost her way Crowley, (Y/N) is different than she used to be.”

“I suppose she has been sadder as of late.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen her smile for two weeks.”

They both glanced at their friend, who hadn’t noticed them yet. Her shoulders slumped, eyes not as bright as they used to be, and although she still dressed nicely, it wasn’t as immaculate as her usual outfit; small signs others wouldn’t notice, but Aziraphale and Crowley did. Crowley quietly groaned, knowing that neither of them should be doing this, though at the same time he wanted to. Not only to piss off those down below, he had a soft spot for (Y/N). She had never questioned them when they rushed off suddenly, she never asked questions as to where they had been, or when they had returned tried and stressed. All she had done was be there for them. It was only right they do the same.

“Right, come on, let’s do this.” Crowley stated, already making his way towards (Y/N).

“W-wait, Crowley! We need to come up with a plan.” Aziraphale attempted to pull him back, huffing when that failed.

(Y/N) felt someone watching her, and she flinched back when she saw Crowley storming towards her. She smiled, relieved some creep hadn’t just walked in (it was surprising how many of those you got in a book shop, like the man who announced he was buying pornography to everyone), greeting her friend. He looked mischievous, he was at his best that way. It still baffled her how two different people such as themselves were friends. You know what they say, opposites attract.

“(Y/N), we would like to have a word with you, a serious one.” Crowley said, leaning against the bookshelf beside her.

“Good morning Crowley, that was a very abrupt statement. What would you like to speak about?”

“Aziraphale just informed me that leaving your faith has been bothering you.”

Aziraphale held up a finger, butting in.“Ah, I did not mean that in vain, it was just a concern of mine.”

(Y/N) sighed.“It’s alright. It’s actually sweet.” 

“Well, we want to help.”

“That’s really OK guys. It would be nice to get back into believing again, I just don’t know what will convince me to do so.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, smiling at his worried expression. The angel could see that he was going to do this without a plan, without discussing how they were going to go about it. Before Aziraphale could even open his mouth to object, Crowley had dived into the deep end.

“Aziraphale and I want to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I am a demon and he is an angel.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, nerves building as he watched for (Y/N)’s reaction. She chuckled, unsure of the game Crowley was playing. Were they just trying to cheer her up? It was an odd way to go about it, but so were these gentlemen she called her friends.

“Um...OK. Is this supposed to be a joke, cause I’m not getting it?”

“Ignore him (Y/N),” Aziraphale pushed Crowley back, standing where he just was,“he thinks he’s funnier than he really is.”

“Excuse you-”

“Not now Crowley!”

“Why are you so worked up over this? Did you guys argue before this?” (Y/N) asked, wondering why Aziraphale was so tense.

“No, we’re being serious, it’s a serious situation, that’s why he’s so....seriously tense.” Crowley explained, though it made no sense to (Y/N).

“Right....I still don’t see the point of this.”

“Come on,” Crowley briskly picked up his friend’s coats from the rack, carelessly throwing it at them,“it’s much easier to show her than tell her.”

“You’re going to show me that you’re an angel and a demon?” (Y/N) scoffed.

“Precisely. Chop chop.”

They scrambled after Crowley, Aziraphale having to lock up with lightening speed. Crowley was already in his Bentley, (Y/N) being shoved in the back as the men were in the front. She noticed Aziraphale’s worrisome glances at Crowley, who seemed perfectly relaxed as he drove like a crazy man. With her fingers gripping into the seats, (Y/N) thought about what had been said. Neither one of them would joke about religion, especially to her. So what was this all about? Where were they taking her? She had never had any bad or threatened thoughts about them, but they seemed to be getting deeper into the forest, and for some reason it unnerved her.

Crowley slammed on the brakes, nearly giving Aziraphale and (Y/N) a heart attack. He casually got out the car, already walking away, off the road and into the forest. (Y/N) shrugged at Aziraphale, following after them. Nothing was said as they caught up with each other, both of them staring at Crowley when he stopped walking. Still in silence, they waited for someone to say something, though it seemed no one knew where to go from there. 

“Well?” Crowley spread him arms out.

“Well what? You’re the one who drove us out here.” (Y/N) said.

“Stand here Aziraphale.” 

The angel sighed, reluctantly doing as he said. (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest, she couldn’t wait to see what they had up their sleeves. They had stood quite far back, arguing with each other under their breaths. She laughed, thinking that this might be a surprise they planned to cheer her up; she wouldn’t get her hopes up too soon. Just as (Y/N) was about to yell out to them, telling them to ‘hurry up’, the men stood slightly further apart, their eyes on her.

“OK, let’s see it then.” She called out, starting to get cold.

She waited to see what they were going to do, not having any as to what it could be. The breeze was picking up, rustling the leaves that were hanging onto the tree as winter arrived, it was almost as if an atmosphere was building; (Y/N) scoffed at that idea.

“Just...prepare yourself, my dear. It may be a shock.” Aziraphale shouted.

(Y/N) held out a thumbs up, nodding her head.“Don’t worry, I think I’m ready for this.”

Whatever the hell this might be.

Her eyes were glued on them, waiting to see what was about to happen. The men glanced one last time at each other, seeming focused, in their own zone for a few seconds. Emerging elegantly from their shoulder blades were a pair of wings, your stereotypical angel wings, feathers and everything. (Y/N) gasped loudly, stumbling back and tripping over her own feet. With a thud to the ground, she laid there for a moment, staring up at the sky peeking through the trees.

What. The. Fuck.

No. No this wasn’t happening. She didn’t believe in any of this. This couldn’t be true. Even if she did still believe, would she be seeing things like this? But what if this was the sign? The sign she had been waiting for, to let religion back into her life. Hold on, back to the two men she thought she knew.

Sitting up, she held up a finger before either could talk.“Guys, what...wh-what....I actually don’t know what to say.”

They slowly approached her, Crowley speaking first.“We did tell you.”

“OK, you know how crazy ‘I’m a demon, he’s an angel’ sounds right?”

“Yeah well...it’s true isn’t it?”

“Yes...I can see that.”

Aziraphale helped her stand, wings still spread.“I’m sorry that we couldn’t tell you sooner. But we aren’t really supposed to.”

“Yeah the people upstairs and downstairs probably won’t like it.”

“Upstairs and down...like, heaven and hell?”

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Aziraphale had a calm tone to his voice,“but I thought it would help you with your faith. You seemed like you wanted to believe again, but don’t feel that this should be your reason why.”

“Plus, it was time for you to know.” Crowley added.

“That’s so kind of you. I mean, it’s a lot to get my head around.”

“Yes, the wings are a bit much.”

“No, they’re beautiful. It explains quite a bit actually.”

“I have an idea!” Crowley announced.“Let’s put the wings away, everyone can collect themselves, and we choose a fancy place for lunch.”

“That seems to be your solution for everything.” Aziraphale smiled.

“And it works every time!”

“Wait,” (Y/N) interrupted,“is that where you two disappear off to all the time.”

They shared a look before sighing, Crowley patting (Y/N)’s shoulder.“Oh, the things we have to tell you.”

[thewhumperinwhite]

Guardian Angel

OKAY SO LISTEN. this is not the update anyone was hoping for but sometimes the only thing that’s gonna keep my contrary adhd brain from Abandoning a project is to Invest Energy Somewhere else for a while. case in point, I've been plugging grimly away at both café and wkw for weeks and written ~500 words total, and then I wrote this whole thing in About Twenty Minutes.

So uh. You know how FBI is an au of an Actual WIP I have about vampires? Well this is... technically also that but it’s a lot closer to the actual canon of that WIP. If you don’t know anything about FBI or those characters, that’s great, you’re in the same spot Karim is here lmao.

Also this is heavily inspired by this very good spn fic, which I keep coming back to despite not being active in that fandom at all anymore. This goes in a very different direction than that, but they open in similar ways.

Also please note, the main character of this is a young teenager, and there will be some mild underage whump, but this is my official promise that there is no underage sex in this story. 

Anyway uh let’s get this..... car wreck underway I guess

TW for: car accident due to reckless driving resulting in serious injury (or by rights it should anyway); body horror; animated corpse (of a sort); religion/Christianity.

----

For about—let’s say—the first fifteen miles away from his house, the thrill of the stolen car and his notable lack of driver’s license was enough to keep Karim in his own skin, not spiralling into rushing panicky thoughts. After a while that thrill starts to fade into the background and every time it does he hits the gas a little harder, and the new speed is enough for him for another fifteen miles until he has to hit the gas again because his brain is catching up with him.

Which is to say that when the thin pale shape of a human being stumbles out of the bushes along the side of the highway, Karim is going easily a hundred miles an hour, and no amount of slamming on the brakes is going to get him to stop in the hundred feet between himself and this person’s human body.

He hits the white shape at, optimistically, sixty miles an hour. It shoots up the car’s hood, cracks the windshield with its skull, and disappears over the top of the car. Realistically there’s no way the quiet hard thump of the body hitting the pavement many feet behind the car is audible over the sound of the car’s squealing brakes but it feels like Karim can hear it, can hear the accompanying crack of bones breaking against the asphalt.

The car rolls to a stop, and Karim spends several unfathomable seconds staring at the windshield, not bloodied but almost completely starred with a huge spiraling crack just off the center, and all he can think is, no, no, no no no no no oh no oh no.

Then he hears a muffled groan from behind him and dives for the car door, tumbles out onto the pavement on his hands and knees, scrambles back toward the pale body squirming and twitching in the middle of the left lane behind his mother’s SUV.

Somehow there’s still no blood, even back here, but it is immediately clear that there is something seriously, deeply wrong with this body.

“Motherfucker,” it says, and Karim freezes a few feet away from it, still the most horrified he’s ever been and now also very confused and between those two feelings no longer able to move. The voice issuing from the ruined and twisted body sounds, at most, annoyed. It flops horribly onto its back, like a boned fish, and rolls its head awkwardly on its shoulders to face Karim. “Going a fucking million miles an hour on an—” The body stops speaking, and stares up with wide shocked eyes in its colorless face.

“Karim,” the dead thing says.

Karim stumbles back a step, the horror already overfilling his chest growing and mutating so fast he loses his footing and falls painfully backwards, scraping his palms as he catches himself to stop from sprawling completely. The initial all-consuming terror of having killed a person with his mother’s car is turning into a—different, harder to parse all-consuming terror.

Because every instinct he has is telling him that this thing that just called him by his name is a corpse.

Watching it sit up on the pavement, in a hopefully unconscious mirror of Karim’s own half-sprawled pose, is like watching a marionette puppet being controlled by a very unskilled puppeteer. It’s movements are jerky and uneven; it falls back when it puts its weight on one of its arms and the leg on that side is stuck out stiffly in front of it and bending in places that aren’t joints. And above its wide filmy eyes its forehead is starred with cracks like an egg dropped on a hardwood floor.

“You’re alive,” it says. Its voice is—completely normal, which is somehow the strangest thing about it. About—him.

“I—I’m so sorry,” Karim says, starting to run on autopilot now, fumbling in his pocket for his cellphone, “I’ll call, I’ll call an ambulance, I’ll—”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” the dead boy says absently. He leans forward, his mangled arm hanging useless at his side, though he doesn’t move like he’s in any pain at all. “You’re—holy shit, you’re a baby.”

Karim blinks, away from his phone screen, up at the dead boy. He looks—older than Karim, but not by that much, like a college student, maybe. And he’s looking up at Karim with alarm that’s almost horror, like Karim is the weird mangled abomination here.

“I am not,” he says automatically. There’s still no blood, anywhere. There’s—he can see that the skin of the boy’s head is broken, but it’s not bleeding, not a drop. 

The boy searches his face with his weird foggy eyes, still leaning forward. His hair is short, maybe even buzzed in the back, and it’s a dull sandy-brown, above a face that might be handsome if it wasn’t gray-tinged and bloodless and cracked open.

“What year is this?” the dead boy says urgently.

Karim stares at him.

His arm is dangling limply at his side and his leg is definitely broken in more than one place and Karim did that, which will continue to be true regardless of whatever else is going on with this guy medically, and Karim has no idea what to do about that, is almost paralyzed by the desire to physically twist time back ten minutes and have this not be the moment he’s in right now.

But he can’t do that, so he answers, “Uh, 2009?” in a high squeaky voice like it’s a question, instead.

The dead boy’s eyes go even wider.

“It’s,” he whispers. “You’re,” and then he stops and looks at the ground. He raises his still-working arm to scrub across his cracked forehead, maybe tries to raise the other one, winces.

“I’m sorry,” Karim croaks. “I should— I gotta get you to a hospital.”

The dead boy shakes his head. “I don’t need a hospital,” he says, “I need a church.”

Karim feels himself gasp sharply. “Oh god,” he says, “Oh no, I’m— sure you’ll— make it, man, you’re—” He laughs, the sounds grating and hysterical in his own ears. “Look, you’re not even bleeding!”

The dead boy blinks up at him, and then he laughs, throwing his head back, and it’s a full, pretty laugh, sparking up toward the darkening sky— and when he lifts his chin Karim can suddenly see a bizarre pattern of marks all over his neck, a dozen little dots, in pairs, clustered around where you would look for a pulse on someone you weren’t sure was alive.

“That���s not what I mean,” the dead boy says, his eyes squinty and warm with laughter, and then he takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, staring at Karim, the smile fading from his pretty dead face. “Christ,” he says softly, and then, again, “Karim.”

Karim takes half a step back. “How— how do you know my name?”

“Ha,” the boy says, “that’s—” He tries to push himself to his feet and hisses, falling back like his broken leg won’t take any weight. Karim takes a step closer, unable to keep from reacting to obvious pain that he definitely 100% caused. “Actually,” the boy says, “I—would love it. If you could give me a ride. To the nearest church before I try to answer that. Karim.”

Karim stares at him. “What?”

“Catholic would be best if you’ve got it,” the boy says, with the air of somebody who knows he’s saying an absurd thing and is trying very hard to play it off. “I’m sure another kind would work but I’d just as soon not—” He shifts, winces a little; Karim looks down at his leg and squeezes his eyes shut, he’d momentarily forgotten how awful it looks. The boy laughs, sounding slightly hysterical. “I’d just as soon not drive around between a bunch’a churches if it’s all the same to you. Save you some gas money, huh?”

“Why,” Karim says, and he forces himself to look at the boy’s leg for real. There’s a place beside the— crooked, displaced— kneecap where Karim can see a strip of skin missing, and the exposed flesh is pale and bloodless; he feels his stomach squeeze in panicked nausea. “Why would you need a church right now.”

The boy sucks his teeth audibly, bowing his head, and then spreads his still-working hand wide with a fine-you-got-me shrug. 

“Because,” the dead boy says, “I need holy water to put my leg back together.”

Karim blinks. Blinks again, for good measure.

“What,” he says. He shakes his head. “What. Why would that. Why.”

The boy looks away, tilts his head like he’s doing math in his head, and says slowly, in the voice of someone trying a gambit they’re pretty sure won’t work. “Because I’m... your guardian... angel?”

Karim narrows his eyes. The boy could at least have the decency to say it like he means it.

“Okay,” the dead boy says, and nods like he’s trying to psyche himself up. “Okay, yeah, no, that’s fair, I— Hold on, I’ll— I’ll show you.”

The dead boy sighs and shakes his head. “This is gonna fucking suck,” he mutters, and he closes his eyes. 

At first Karim doesn’t think anything weird is happening— that an evening breeze has just kicked up. But as the wind gets stronger and he can see pebbles and bits of loose asphalt skittering away from where the dead boy sits on the pavement, it becomes clear that the sudden rush of cool air is coming from him. His sandy hair is whipping around his head, too, like it’s in a stronger wind than the one Karim can feel, and Karim realizes a second late that there’s— light coming from him too, a cold white glow growing so slowly he didn’t see it at first.

The dead boy lets out a shaky breath, his face creasing in concentration, or maybe pain.

Karim stumbles backward, hitting the back of the car and pressing his back against it, staring at the dead boy. The wind picks up and the light suddenly flashes, so bright that Karim throws up his arm to shield his eyes— and through his fingers, he can just see that the light beaming from the empty air above the dead boy’s shoulder blades, where it almost forms the shape of two enormous wings out of thin air and dust.

The wind and light sputter and die roughly in unison. Karim lowers his hand enough to stare at the dead boy in— he’s not sure what feeling, actually. Possibly terror.

The boy’s hair settles back against his cracked forehead. “Oh, good,” he says, breathing hard, like he’s just run a mile on a hot day. “It worked.”

Then the dead boy sags sideways and flops limply onto the pavement, and lies still, like corpses generally do.

“What the fuck,” Karim Mun says, with feeling.

[chanbangblog]

ive only felt religion when ive lied with you- 10

A/N: (smut, Chan x reader, Canon compliant, fan/idol)

You fell down on the bed in your room and let the impact knock the air out of you as you stared up at the ceiling. You were back in your room, well, yours and Robyn’s room that apparently neither of you had slept in, what a waste of money that had been for Chris to pay for.

You had texted Robyn, but hadn’t gotten a response. You were mildly worried but not too badly yet, you trusted Jisung, you knew she was safe with him. But Minho was pretty drunk when you left the rooftop so you couldn’t imagine what her night had entailed. You were dying to hear about it the more you thought about it, actually.

You needed a distraction, something, anything to get your mind to stop turning at a million miles per minute. You pulled out your phone, avoiding Youtube this time and went to Netflix, you had a couple kdramas pulled up on there but you didn’t want anything close to romantic. So you went to the horror section and picked the first movie you saw.

You rolled over on your stomach and set your phone in front of you, but two minutes into the movie you realized you were not going to be able to focus at all. Your mind was too occupied, and there was one person in every single thought.

“Ughhhhh!” you screamed dramatically, slamming your phone down on the bed.

What is wrong with me? Why did I do this? How can this end well? This is just like the Avengers, over a billion different scenarios and only one where you could win.

But you didn’t even know what winning was anymore.

Okay so I like him, a lot. But what is the goal here? Do I want to date him? Impossible. See him everyday? Impossible. Why is everything so fucking impossible?

  You really didn’t want to cry, not again, but your thoughts were threatening to overwhelm you. You wanted to call your mom, or a friend or just anyone and tell them what was going on and ask for advice, but you couldn’t. It made the situation just seemed that much more fucked.

Right when you were on the verge of giving in and having a good cry you heard someone at the door.

Robyn walked in in last night’s clothes as well, looking thoroughly exasperated. She typically only looked like this after you started telling her one of your stories or being particularly annoying, so you decided to wait to ask for advice. You made eye contact with her as she entered the room and smiled.

She froze where she was standing, eyes growing wide, “he’s crazy,” she said simply.

“I’m sorry, who?” you asked.

“Lee Minho, Lee Know, whatever you want to call that yahoo” she said, making hand gestures that had you on the verge of chuckling.

“What do you mean? What happened?” you questioned, quickly becoming amused by this.

“What I mean is, after finishing the alcohol that you and Chris so graciously left for him to drink, he started—“ you cut her off there.

“We didn’t leave him anything though?” you said, confused.

“Are you kidding me?! He said Chris told him to drink your alcohol or it would go to waste!” Robyn exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

You couldn’t help it, you were chuckling at this point, “It sounds like he just needed an excuse to keep drinking because you all were trying to cut him off.” You speculated, as it seemed to click in Robyn’s mind.

“The audacity of that man! The nerve! I cannot wait to tell Jisung this!” She said, moving to sit on the bed in a huff.

“Okay so keep going,” you urged her, “why are you so pissed?” You were really invested in this story now.

“Why am I so pissed? Why? Okay, let’s start with the fact that he started a hand stand competition on the roof to see how far each of them could walk on their hands. On concrete! While they were drunk! It was an injury waiting to happen! Then he decided to organize a wrestling tournament with the maknae line, drew a bracket and everything!” you were laughing so hard you had tears in your eyes at this point, just the mental image you were getting from this was hilarious.

“By the time we got him inside and to his room it was 2 in the morning. We put him in bed but every time we would go to leave he would follow us and try to go with us. So we just let him come with us to Jisung’s room because we couldn’t trust him not to wander about the hotel.” She explained, and tears really were falling now, “So we tried to put him in bed in Jisung’s room but he kept saying he wanted to party. He went to the bathroom and me and Jisung were trying to plan how to get him to go to sleep when we heard a crash. We go in the bathroom and Minho had fallen in the floor and was laughing and was covered in shaving cream, he had written ‘lee know #1 rapper’ on the mirror in shaving cream!”

“No! No he did not!” you cried out between bits of laughter, this was the best story you had ever heard.

“Oh yes, I assure you, he did.” Robyn said, looking so unamused, “So we took his shirt off to try to clean him up and he ran down the hall and to the maknae’s room shirtless! And brought them back to our room to do karaoke! They were singing Day6 and GOT7 songs until 3am!”

“Oh my god Robyn, I’m dying, so then did you get him to go to sleep?” you asked, still cracking up laughing at the mental image of drunk Minho tormenting Robyn and Jisung.

“Well, we got some clean clothes on him and tried to get him to go back to his room but he said he wanted to stay with me and Jisung, I was so tired at that point, I just didn’t care. I tried to sleep on the couch but he said he would cry if I didn’t sleep in the bed. So I tried to sleep by Jisung but he said he wanted to sleep in the middle, so I got on the other side and he grabbed me and Jisung and hugged both of us to his sides, said we were in a ‘cuddle puddle’ and passed out.” Robyn finally finished.

“That is…the best story I have ever heard.” You said, laugher coming to an end, thankfully because your abs were starting to hurt.

“Yeah, try living it, he’s like the Tasmanian devil.” Robyn said, waving you off.

“But you stayed and took care of him, that must mean you care,” you said winking at her.

She huffed and crossed her arms, “Of course I care about the little psychopath but I told him, next time me and Jisung are the ones getting drunk and he can take care of us!”

“And what did he say?” you pressed.

“He said okay and that he would,” she added slowly, “and then he went and got me a coffee and served it to me in bed.”

She was blushing, and you were eating this up.

***

Going to a concert after sleeping with Chris was weirder than you thought it would be.

And you already thought it was going to be pretty fucking weird.

You and Robyn spent the day taking a much needed nap and then getting ready for the concert. Chris had sent your tickets to your phone and somehow you weren’t surprised when you arrived to the venue and found out they were P1 tickets.

“Shit this means we get group photo with them,” Robyn had mused.

“That’s sure to be a good time.” You smirked back.

Watching Chris, well all of them really, on stage after being so close with them was so weird. It was similar to the feeling you had at the airport. The feeling of being totally in over your head.

Watching his body rolls, the beads of sweat running down his face, the way his arm and leg muscles clenched. It just had your mind racing back to the times he did this in your most intimate moments. It was a whole new experience, one that left your head swimming.

Hearing him talk to his fans, telling them how much he meant to them, how Stay is his everything, pretty much had you gushing. It was like seeing your partner hold a baby for the first, it pretty much made your heart explode and you melt into a puddle. Because you knew everything he was saying was true, he meant every word, he had such a beautiful heart.

And all of it could be ripped away because of what he was doing with you.

The thought turned your stomach.

The concert, as always, was over too soon and you were corralled like a herd of cattle with other fans into a line for group photo.

“I wonder if they expected us to actually do this part,” you whispered to Robyn.

“Well shit I’m doing it, it’ll be fun,” Robyn whispered back, grabbing your hand reassuringly.

“But won’t it be kind of awkward?” you asked.

“I mean, it would be, but that’s why we make it funny.” She said, smiling.

You liked where she was going with this.

You walked in and there were ten chairs lined up in front of the nine members. Chris was on the far end of the room and his eyes lit up and he started laughing when he saw you. You speed walked over to him, trying not to draw attention to him. The staff was rushing everyone to sit down as you reached him.

Once again you felt that confidence you had felt at the first concert with his eyes on you.

“OMG! Bang Chan! I can’t believe I’m meeting you!” you said as you took your seat, “Can we do a hand heart?!” you moved your hand behind you so you could make half a heart. Chris was so busy laughing at your antics he barely got a word in.

“Yeah no problem,” he said, just before the camera went off he raised his hand to complete the heart. “It was nice to meet you” he said, eyes full of laughter.

“You too,” you said, while being shooed away by staff and you, somehow by an act of god, bit your lip. He saw it and you swore his eyes darkened.

Tonight will be fun.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #107: Angra Mainyu

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making the original Shirouface, Angra Mainyu! This angy mango can turn into a dog, track mud all over the place, and also warp time and space to cheat at grail wars. 🎵 One of these things is not like the other! 🎵 I’d say he’s also really good at killing humans, but in D&D most humans aren’t that hard to kill. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.

Check out the mango’s build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: Yeah, I guess he is pretty great.

Race and Background

So... Angra’s kind of weird. He was human, but now he’s the sins of all mankind, so if you want the flavor build maybe a Tiefling? That being said we’re trying to turn him into a dog and we can’t wait three levels, so he’s going to be a Longtooth Shifter here. This gives him +2 Strength and +1 Dexterity, a bit of Darkvision so you don’t have to keep your tattoos lit, Keen Senses for perception proficiency, Fierce for intimidation, as well as the ability to Shift once per short rest as a bonus action. This bestial transformation lasts 1 minute, and during it you gain some temporary HP and can make a bite attack as a bonus action.

As for your background, Acolyte is a much nicer title than your real one, Ritual Sacrifice. (As long as you leave out your role in the order, Shelter of the Faithful should still work, right?) Either way, you get Religion proficiency, as well as Insight. You’re really good at sizing up your opponents, but that’s mostly because they’re always stronger than you are.

Ability Scores

We’re not doing anything fancy this time, just the standard array. You can roll if you wanna, but keep multiclassing in mind. First up, make your Intelligence as high as possible. It’s your casting modifier, and half the reason you’re so hard to kill is because you fight smart. Speaking of fighting smart, put your next scores into Constitution, then Dexterity for maximum survivability. After that I guess we can go with Strength for multiclassing and, y’know, hitting things. You might be weak, but you do have those abs going for you. After that is Wisdom to help with that insight. Finally, dump Charisma. Self-deprecation isn’t a good look king.

Class Levels

1. Barbarian 1: You don’t even wear a shirt, let alone armor, so Unarmored Defense is right up your alley. It gives you an AC based on your dexterity and constitution scores. You can also fly into a Rage for extra damage, advantage on strength rolls, and damage resistance, all at the low low cost of not casting or concentrating on spells.

One last thing for level one- you have Strength and Constitution saving throw proficiencies, as well as two barbarian skills. You’re great at hanging in there for as long as possible, so grab Athletics and Survival proficiencies.

2. Fighter 1: Now we bounce over to fighter real quick for Two-Weapon Fighting to help you wield Zarich and Tawrich properly. You also learn how to find a Second Wind as a bonus action for a bit of healing. You can’t really get a counter attack in if you’re dead after all.

3. Wizard 1: We’ll get a second level of wizard so it makes sense later in the build, but all you really need to know right now is you can cast and prepare Spells using your Intelligence, and when you take a short rest you can use your Arcane Recovery to regain a total level of spell slots equal to half your wizard level rounded up. This only works once per long rest though, don’t abuse it.

For your spells, grab the Light cantrip for your sick tats, True Strike for a spell almost as useless as you are, Infestation, Tasha’s Caustic Brew, and Charm Person for the beginnings of your grail mud, and False Life, Mage Armor, and Shield to stay on the defensive. Charm person isn’t quite Completely Rewriting Someone’s Personality; but I mean it’s a first level spell, what did you expect.

4. Fighter 2: Okay, enough multiclassing for now- back in fighter, you get an Action Surge for a surge of action. Once per short rest, you can add an extra action to your turn. Unlike the sorcerer’s quickened spell, you can use two leveled spells at once with this. Or hit people more. That’s probably a better option for you.

5. Fighter 3: At third level you become a Battle Master for some fancy skills. Your Student of War gives you proficiency with any one artisan’s tool. I’m not totally sure what the best way to make your tats would be, but it’s probably painter’s supplies. Anyway, you also get Combat Superiority, giving you three maneuvers that you can use with Superiority Dice. You start with four d8s, and you regain them on short rests.

D&D as a system doesn’t have much in the way of counterattacks, but Brace and Riposte are probably the closest you can get without dumping 14 levels into a barbarian subclass that doesn’t fit you otherwise. The former lets you make an attack when a creature enters melee range, and the latter lets you attack when you’re missed by a melee attack. In either case, you also add the superiority die to the damage. Your last maneuver is a Tactical Assessment, which lets you add the die to Investigation, History, or Insight checks. It’s kind of cheating when you know you’re worse than everyone else, but it’s still technically an assessment.

6. Barbarian 2: It’s been 6 levels and we’re still barely a dog- clearly we need to fix that too. Second level barbarians get a Reckless Attack, which gives you advantage on all weapon attacks for the turn at the cost of taking attacks at advantage too. To balance that out, your Danger Sense gives you advantage on dexterity saves. 

7. Barbarian 3: At third level you can finally become the bad boy you were always meant to be thanks to your Form of the Beast. When you rage, you gain one of three natural weapons. 

Your Fangs let you bite creatures, and once per turn you can regain your proficiency bonus in HP if you’re bloodied.

Your Claws let you make an extra attack once per turn.

Your Tail is long enough to get the reach property, and you can use your reaction to add to your AC by moving your tail between you and an attacker.

I don’t think dog tails are long enough to do that, but you’re more of a shadow werewolf monster anyway, so it’s not like you need to work with biology.

8. Barbarian 4: Eight levels in and you finally get your first Ability Score Improvement. Bump up your Strength for a more passible amount of attack power. 

9. Barbarian 5: Our last bit of barbarism for a while nets you Fast Movement for extra move speed and an Extra Attack per attack action.

10. Fighter 4: One last bounce back to fighter for another ASI. grab some extra Constitution for more health and a tougher hide. This also makes your unarmored defense as tough as your mage armor, which should free up a spell slot or two for ya. Speaking of spells though...

11. Wizard 2: Yeah, we’re finally getting back to wizard. Your innate skill at messing with timelines will make you a Chronurgist. Unfortunately, D&D doesn’t do four day time loops. What you get instead is a Chronal Shift, spending your reaction to force a creature nearby to re-roll a d20. Unlike most roll messing-with abilities, this one takes effect after you find out if it worked or not. You can do this twice per long rest. A couple of seconds is way more convenient anyway- having to redo everything would be a pain in the ass. Your Temporal Awareness also lets you add your intelligence modifier to your initiative for better ambushes.

There aren’t other first level spells we really want, so let’s grab the low-magic Alarm and Snare. Being in a time loop is super useful for trapping people.

12. Wizard 3: Third level wizards get second level spells. Alter Self will let you become a dog boy without having to rage, and Darkness makes things dark. You’ve got this “edgy silhouette” thing going for you in the early ascensions, it’d be a shame to ruin it just because it’s day out.

13. Wizard 4: Now that you’re starting to get spells worth using, grab the War Caster feat. This gives you advantage on concentration saves, as well as the ability to cast spells with full hands. You can also use cantrips for your opportunity attacks.

14. Wizard 5: One last level of wizard for now gives you third level spells. Spirit Shroud gives you an aura of grail mud, slowing down creatures near you and letting you deal extra necrotic damage with each attack. This also shuts down healing! Bonus. You can also Summon Shadowspawn for more material doggos with one of three moods. Furious dogs get advantage on frightened creatures, despairing dogs slow creatures in mud, and frightful dogs can hide in darkness as a bonus action.

15. Barbarian 6: That’s enough magic for a while, lets get back to hitting things. Your Bestial Soul gives you magical claws, fangs, and tails while raging, and you also get a bunch of movement options that don’t really mesh with your character. I guess the jumping boost might be useful- most type-moon characters can jump a story into the air.

16. Barbarian 7: Your Feral Instinct gives you advantage on initiative rolls, and you can just ignore being frightened if you go beast mode immediately. Speaking of, your Instinctive Pounce lets you move as part of your rage bonus action, giving you an extra half-speed of movement.

17. Barbarian 8: Use your last ASI for even more Intelligence. You’d probably use strength more, but you’re supposed to be weak, so that checks out.

18. Barbarian 9: Your Brutal Criticals give you an extra die of damage on critical hits, but you use shortswords, so it’s not going to help much. Again, pretty on point for you.

19. Barbarian 10: Tenth level beasts have an Infectious Fury, letting you dab a little bit of that grail mud into your rage weapon attacks. When you hit a creature, they need to make a wisdom save (DC 8+your constitution modifier + your proficiency bonus) or they take one of two effects. Either they’re forced to attack another creature nearby, or they take extra psychic damage. You can use this a number of times per long rest equal to your proficiency bonus.

20. Wizard 6: Your capstone level nets you one last chronurgy trick- Momentary Stasis locks a creature in a time loop if they fail a constitution save, either until they take damage or the end of your next turn. While in the loop, they’re incapacitated and can’t move. You can use this a number of times per long rest equal to your intelligence modifier.

You also get a last couple of spells, which will really ramp up your mud production. Tidal Wave does exactly what you’d think it does, and after your foes are drenched in mud, hit them with Bestow Curse, another spell kind enough to tell you exactly what it does on the tin.

Pros:

You’ve got plenty of ways to deal damage when it isn’t your turn, and multiple effects to make those attacks more effective. Combine Brace with your Infectious Fury to drop two creatures at the same time before either have a chance to deal damage. Sorry I don’t have a pithy way to bold this one.

Even if you get stuck in a longer fight, you’re tough to kill, with 200 HP, rages, a shield spell, and ways to heal yourself, you can stick around for a long time even before factoring in any loops. (Oh hey, biting is another thing that your counterattacks make super effective)

Thanks to your multitude of multiclassing, you have a lot of variety. Your melee combat is solid, of course, but you can also use magical combat or utility spells, with just a touch of healing thrown in for when it’s absolutely necessary.

Cons:

The downside to that last point above is that you have a lack of focus, which is especially bad given the small number of ASI you have to work with. This means none of your stats are particularly impressive, so expect people to see through your illusions regularly.

You have a lot of reasons to keep your reactions open, and unlike the bonus action problem this isn’t something that you can reason out yourself- you never know when a party member will need you to chronal shift away a critical hit. You also have shield and your counterattacks tied to the same reaction, so in busier fights you’ll have to plan carefully.

Most of your low level spells involve Poison or Acid damage, two of the most resisted and immune-to types. They’re just not that strong, sorry. 

[judehayward]

THE CHARACTER STATISTICS

FULL NAME — jude hayward (him n his parents dnt kno his middle name they lost his birth certificate n forgot what they wrote)

NICKNAME — judas

D.O.B. — 13th march 1997

LINK TO THEIR PINTEREST BOARD OR TAG ON YOUR BLOG — tag n pinterest

STAR SIGN / MOON & RISING — pisces / taurus / virgo

MBTI — intp (the logician)

MORAL ALIGNMENT — chaotic neutral

MARITAL STATUS & SEXUALITY — single n bisexual

LANGUAGES — jst english :/ boring

TALENTS / HOBBIES — painting, drawing, piano, bass guitar, cooking (hates it tho never does it bc he jst doesn’t hv the energy bt he cn do it quite well), composing, smoking, used to b decent at baseball when he first moved to san fran bt....... no work ethic 😔 didn’t stick at it 😔, reading, narrating pigeons outside of his window like david attenborough

TOP 5 MUSICIANS — the cure, elliott smith, glass animals, the smiths, metronomy.... bonus additions r neutral milk hotel, the national, wolf alice, mac demarco, foals, slaughter beach dog, the psychedelic furs...... cldn’t just list 5 i’m sry. (am i?)

FAVOURITE BOOK — i think he likes virginia woolf stuff a lot.... probably rly likes on the road by jack kerouac too....... i’ve nt read any of this i jst Know frm quotes n things....

FAVOURITE FILM & TV SHOW — hereditary, the room, beautiful boy, the truman show, bladerunner, green room, fight club (:///// he’s not One Of Those bt he jst relates w the insomnia aspect), E.T....... then fr tv um...... mr. robot, breaking bad, peep show, walking dead (until it got Shit), nathan for you, the eric andre show.

FAVOURITE VIDEO GAME — the tony hawk games.... red dead redemption when he’s depressed sometimes he jst rides around on a horse nt even doing a mission jst smoking n galloping...... in silence..... silent hill n resident evil..... think he prob wld hv played life is strange too..... n CoD zombies when younger bt thts it.......

WHAT DID THEY DO THIS PAST SUMMER? — went bk to sheffield to oversee his parents gallery n also catch up w childhood friends n things :/ it was Bad

WHERE HAVE THEY TRAVELLED? — jst various places in england, san francisco, lovell n amsterdam i think

DO THEY TAKE ANY PRESCRIPTIONS? — ya he’s on 200mg of sertraline atm.... idk wht it’s called in america... an anti-depressant basically... he’s tried like 87274723 diff ones bt. :/

DO THEY HAVE ANY DIAGNOSIS’S? — depression (severe) and insomnia... probably mre undiagnosed :/

FICTIONAL CHARACTER THEY ARE MOST LIKE? — ok he isn’t a fictional character bt his biggest inspiration is robert pattinson honestly............. i cn also see nick miller (new girl) in him............ mulder frm the x files (dnt watch bt frm screencaps etc) n also ik he’s a real person again bt the like Persona nathan fielder puts on in nathan for you..... vry deadpan n absurd..... reminds me of him

ARE THEY EMPLOYED? WHERE DO THEY WORK? — no job Babey altho mayb i’ll change tht fr the spice

WERE THEY POPULAR IN HIGH SCHOOL? — he ws invited to all the parties bt he wsn’t like a Top Dog or anything....... jst along fr the ride

DO THEY DO DRUGS? ya

DRINK? — ya

SMOKE CIGARETTES? — so many ya’s. so little time.

SMOKE WEED? — so much. Sorrr pls give ur lungs a break.....

WHERE WERE THEY BORN? WHERE DID THEY GROW UP? — sheffield, england!! he mostly grew up there bt also spent some yrs in san francisco. his parents were weird n unreliable abt relocating between galleries so it ws a bit of a train wreck tbh......

DO THEY PLAN TO GO TO GRAD SCHOOL? — no

WHAT ARE THEIR PLANS POST-GRADUATION? — jude does nt..... hv any plans fr his life at all........... none at all...... doesn’t look any of u in the eyes.................. :////////////////

PARENTS NAMES — harry n colette

DO THEY HAVE SIBLINGS? NAMES & AGES? — no

DO THEY HAVE PETS? TYPES & NAMES? — he hs a tortoise named herb who he wld never confess to loving dearly..... lets him roam free as he pleases.... feeds him slices of cucumber

ARE THEY RELIGIOUS? WHAT IS THEIR RELIGION IF SO? — no he’s like..... if god ws real he’d b a cunt.

HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE THEY SLEPT WITH? — hmmMMM..... mayb like.... 30 something

WHAT VEHICLE DO THEY DRIVE? IF THEY DON’T DRIVE, HOW DO THEY TRAVEL AROUND TOWN? — idk cars bt i imagine the paint kind of peeling faded dusty blue-ish grey myb like.... a slightly older model...... splutters smoke the stereo jams a lot........ he doesn’t care he’s like the bastard hs character............ probably brks dwn a lot n is parked mre than driven. usually gets the bus

DESCRIBE THEIR FASHION — just doesn’t give much of a fk throws whtever on...... usually some flannel shirt or white tshirt...... variation of trousers....... jean jacket or corduroy one......... dr martens.............. sometimes plaid pj pants in public i rly cnt emphasise hw little he cares.............

DO THEY PREFER TO BE BEHIND THE CAMERA OR IN FRONT OF IT? — behind

DO THEY BELIEVE ANY OF THE STORIES ABOUT RADCLIFFE? WHICH ONES? — he finds the undergrounds a bit creepy i think bt he doesn’t rly like enclosed spaces so cld just b tht.................. probably thinks the secret society hs some weight to it

DO THEY THINK THE MOTHMAN IS HOT? — open to the idea of him being a handsome fellow................. perhaps muscular in physique...... striking bastard chap......

A QUOTE THAT DESCRIBES THEM — “He was more like a drizzle in a drought, a fast glance of the view as you’re speeding down the highway. He was there, but he never was.” or “There is a terrible emptiness in me, an indifference that hurts.“

A SONG THAT THEY WOULD RELATE TO — cnt pick between agnes by glass animals n spanish sahara by foals so..... slaps both dwn

[crvelsovls]

—

delphine laurent has been seen walking around town. hazelgrove is familiar of the twenty-nine year old demon as she is against restoring the town’s glamour spell. the people of hazelgrove can agree that the dancer can be poised yet still be destructive. let’s just hope something can be settled before the town is turned upside town. + rose gold highlighter shimmering along the height of prominent cheekbones, black satin dresses draped over a svelte frame and blood-red roses in a vase on the window sill.

why, hellooo there !! i’m chrissie and i’m super duper excited to be here !! this here is the first of my gals ; delphine aka my sassy lil demon child fkhfjh she’s kinda a newish muse so pls bear with me while i navigate this chaotic hellcat lmao anywaysss i’m utter plot trash so feel free to slap a lil heart on this and i’ll come pester you for plots n all that good stuff !! : )

FUNDAMENTALS.

full name. delphine athena laurent.

nicknames. del, & della.

physical age. twenty-nine.

actual age. three hundred and fifty seven.

birthday. unknown.

gender. cisgender female.

pronouns. she / her.

species. demon.

nationality. unknown.

religion. agnostic.

birthplace. unknown.

current residence. hazelgrove, me.

sexual orientation. pansexual.

romantic orientation. aromantic.

education. psychology degree.

occupation. dancer at purgatory.

CONNECTIONS.

birth mother. unknown.

birth father. abraxas.

full blood siblings. unknown.

significant other. n/a.

children. n/a.

pets. n/a.

PROFICIENCIES.

spoken languages. english, spanish, french, italian, german, & russian.

negative traits. brusque, obstinate, destructive, deceptive, & promiscuous.

positive traits. elegant, headstrong, observant, independent, & confident.

strengths. etiquette, resourcefulness, knowledgeable, quick-thinker, original, brainstorming, charismatic, & energetic.

weaknesses. argumentative, insensitive, intolerant, finds it difficult to focus, & dislikes practical matters.

skills. skilled with blades and various knives, skilled with firearms, hand-to-hand combat, memory recall, physical stamina, able to use initiative, & excellent problem-solving abilities.

talents. violin, dancing, & photographic memory.

APPEARANCE.

eye colour. green.

hair colour. dark brown.

height. five feet, five inches.

weight. 61 kg.

build. she is considered average height for a female and is both slender and toned.

scars. a rather noticeable one across her clavicle and a few others in less visible places.

tattoos. n/a.

piercings. earlobes.

glasses. n/a.

MISCELLANEOUS.

zodiac. unknown.

element. fire.

house. slytherin.

myers briggs type. entp-a.

alignment. chaotic neutral.

enneagram. type eight.

temperament. choleric

intelligence type. intra-personal.

character label. the vixen.

diseases. n/a.

past mental disorders. post-traumatic stress disorder, & acute stress disorder.

current mental disorders. undiagnosed.

addictions. tobacco, cocaine, & alcohol.

vices. lust, greed, & wrath.

virtues. temperance, diligence, & humility.

allergies. n/a.

diet. carnivore.

dominant hand. ambidextrous.

accent. american.

blood type. o negative.

felonies. petty theft charge when she was fifteen. she also has a history of both kleptomania, & pyromania when she was a teenager.

vehicle. red 1966 shelby 427 cobra.

BACKGROUND.

trigger warning(s). mention of death, mention of imprisonment, & mention of murder.

although the region of her birth remains a mystery to delphine, she knows for certain that her parentage is a complex story. the by-product of a human mother and a demonic father, delphine entered this world destined for a life of chaos and disarray. though she never knew her mother, her father had been thrilled by the sheer idea of having a child he could mould and shape into the pitch-black soul he desired her to be, minus the influence of a mortal. indeed, the demon abraxas had big plans for his little girl, plans she grew to work against despite her father’s best efforts to rein her in.

the instant little delphine began to display her powers, make use of her abilities and disobey daddy dearest, the girl was locked in her room. a room that contained every possible thing that a child could want. for the first few years of her life, delphine was homeschooled by a demon under her father's command. while her father made sure she had wanted for nothing, the older she grew the deeper she desired to explore the world  and her capabilities. one fateful night, the girl managed to escape her father's abode; used her enhanced speed and endurance to run far into the dark night. of course, it wasn't long until her father's demonic henchmen were on her tail, dragging her back to her prison. delphine knew her father gave her the best life possible but she also knew that there were ulterior motives behind his kindness.

eventually, delphine proved to defy her father to breaking point resulting in him having her shipped off to an all-girls boarding school. during her schooling years there, her father sparsely visited or, instead, often sent one of his subservient demons to check in with his daughter in his place. then, after a long period of time, the visitations ceased; the last thing delphine heard was that her father had wound up entangled with a couple of hunters.

delphine deemed this both a blessing and a curse. a curse as all she'd known was her father's rule. a blessing as she was finally free to lead her own life; make her own choices and follow her own path. she wasted no time in graduating from the academy before deciding to move to new york city where she found herself enrolled in new york university, undertaking a psychology degree.

still, with no word from her father or his servants, a small element of delphine continued to look over her shoulder in fear that they would creep back into her life. perhaps her father’s involvement with the hunters had ended in disaster. or perhaps he’d simply given up on his daughter fulfilling the prophecy he placed upon her. though the latter seemed unlikely to her, delphine wasn’t entirely sure if she truly cared enough to give any of it a second thought.  

after her graduation, she was cornered by a demon who claimed to work for her father. it soon became apparent that her father had vanished, seemingly having fell off the face of the earth altogether, and that this demon had stepped in to fill his shoes. naturally, the demon was trying to recruit delphine into the fold once more but refusing to take no for an answer had deadly consequences for this other demon.  

having killed the new ruler of her father’s faction, delphine made her way across various states until she would up in hazelgrove where she laid low for the first year. after a while, she began working in purgatory as a bartender until she decided she wanted to be front and centre stage, ending up becoming a dancer. 

while delphine isn’t fond of the idea of serving demons, she isn’t utterly opposed to working alongside them nor using her demonic powers. delphine can be a ruthless, callous creature who most definitely doesn’t exist to serve anybody or bend to the will of anyone.

PERSONALITY.

the semblance of delphine can only be accurately encapsulated by ribbed turtlenecks and skin-tight jeans with red-bottomed heels. the air of her seemingly callous persona epitomised by the ease of narcissism and offhand sardonic quips accompanied by a playful grin. delphine is the perfect balance of an elegant, self-assured woman and an intelligent, artful creature; effortlessly displaying only a rare sum of her persona, the elements of her she wishes others to see while concealing all the other elements of herself she deems less than favourable. one’s initial opinion of delphine might be that she appears cold, the kind of person who wouldn’t blink while grasping any opportunity to cut you down only to build herself up. delphine couldn’t be farther removed from her childhood self. every inch, every last detail of the once bright-eyed young girl has been broken down and reshaped into the icy-glared creature who lives today. life strengthened her, shaped her into a careless adaption of who she once was; a woman who stands her ground and speaks up for herself and what she believes in, never fearing the consequences of her actions.

QUICK FACTS.

owns waaay too many pairs of heels.

her signature look is her blood-red lips.

often wears suits and totally rocks them.

extremely skilled with knives and blades. always carries one on her person at all times.

has never been in love or had her heart broken.

although she wears a lot of red, black is actually her favourite colour. she feels her most powerful in an all-black outfit.

her most prized possession is her brushed chrome zippo. it has her initials engraved on it and where she got it or from who is something she’ll never tell.

always seen with a cigarette in hand. she seriously chain smokes. always says she needs to quit but never does and probably never will either.

is very soft underneath and a lot more sensitive than she lets on but she’d rather die than expose this about herself.

has a history of both kleptomania and pyromania when she was a teenager.

has a felony of petty theft when she was fifteen.

has a psychology degree from nyu but never tells people about this.

drives way too fast but loves the thrill of it.

is aromantic. believes she doesn’t have the capacity to love.

can speak quite a few different languages though she never usually makes use of this.

she can be pretty deadly if you piss her off enough.  

thrives on chaos.

a tad theatrical.

is truly an independent woman who don’t need no man.

her drink of choice is vodka tonic.

WANTED PLOTS.

for wanted connections and potential plots, i’m open to anything and everything. seriously, throw any idea at me and if it has angst, i’m a million per cent there !! however, some connections i’d love to see delphine have are :

a confidant / friendship.

a best pal.

an unlikely supernatural creature who turns out to be her friend.

of course, fellow demons.

a potential love interest.

past or present flings / hookups / fwb / one night stands.

frenemies or plain ole enemies.

clashing personalities.

somebody she often spends time with, most likely drinking with.