#didn’t protect my innocence or my soul but learned something new and will hopefully make better decisions ✌️

[johnlockdynamic]

medical emergencies reveal true colors more than anything else right .

[animeyanderelover]

Whoo, requests are open! Can I get Azusa Mukami, Ash Launders, Lau, and Grell Sutcliff with a darling who's a ghost, or something akin to one? Thank you, please take your time with this and remember to take breaks when you need to!

I recently talked about this with my friend, but both of us are amazed with how popular Ash actually is. He suddenly became so beloved in here. Not that I complain😏.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, paranoia, self-harming behavior, kidnapping, killing

Ghost s/o

Grell Sutcliff

🟥Grell is a grim reaper and for that probably met ghosts quite a few times ago. Ghosts are souls from people who didn’t find peace yet and whilst humans can’t see ghosts most of the time, other supernatural creatures can. Grell feels sometimes a bit sorry for ghosts whose souls are tight to this world until whatever doesn’t allow them to Rest In Peace is solved. There are exceptions though, it isn’t unheard that even after the issue was solved, ghosts decided to stay, mainly because they started enjoying life as an undead once again. So at one point such examples were counted in the supernatural community as well.

🟥If her darling should be a pure ghost, it depends on whether they still try to find a way out of this world or are one of those who decided to live forever as a ghost. If it’s the first one, she would definitely try to make her darling enjoy life once again since she doesn’t want them to leave. She wants to give them happiness once again and would try about everything to make them feel joy again. If it’s the latter case, she would switch from a worried mother mode in a totally fascinated one. She did meet ghosts before, but normally they are more of loners since they grief over whatever they couldn’t finish during life. So having a darling as ghost makes her more interested since ghosts aren’t that known to other magical beings.

🟥Hopefully you know how to manifest yourself or else Grell will get really pouty since she’s clingy. A ghost can learn to materialize their body so others can touch them even though that takes practice. Girl loves you just very much to the extent where she often wants to jump on you and tackle you in a hug after a boring day of work...which ends with her being met with the ground of you don’t know how to control it or did it on purpose. It also tends to scare her a bit if you suddenly pop somewhere up without her knowing since you can just walk through objects. There was this one time where you were looking for her, ending with your head popping up through the ground right in front of her. And Grell might be able to handle, blood, zombies and other gore stuff, but not this. It ended with her screaming startled.

🟥If you’re not dead, but just possess the possibilities of a ghost, the whole walking through walls and turning invisible stuff, you’re most likely a hybrid because believe it or not, in materialized form ghosts can create or bear children too. And half breeds have been since the earliest days always been a more risky topic. Many creatures are still lacking the openness to accept persons from two different kinds since many are still in the classic belief that only the same species should have children together. It leads her to being more overprotective over you since she doesn’t want you to endure hatred and racism from others. She’s fiercely overprotective in that regard.

Lau

🚢He has a weird fascination with such things, at least in my opinion. He might only be human, but he has awareness of the more otherworldly creatures on this planet and his assistant, Ran Mao, herself appears to be some sort of superhuman as well. He has probably heard a lot of ghost stories before, either from his own country or here, in England. And he is somewhat good in telling when a story was just made up so the person could suddenly gain attention or if there is a spark of truth in it. He has a nose for stuff like this and actually likes listening to such stories.

🚢So expect his obsession to very quickly grow if his darling should be a ghost even though he would hold himself back if they are unhappy due to their unfinished business. He is manipulative and is also, despite being good in hiding it from his darling, very greedy and mercenary. He might not show it, but he has every intention to make his darling stay with him, even if that means ensuring that whatever they need to do in this world will never be finished. If you are that kind of ghost who’s happy with their new life, he would be much more open with his curiosity, expressing his interest in your abilities and also backstory. Especially if you should be a lot more older than your appearance gives away, he would be keen on your story. If it should happen that you were murdered and the killer is still alive, that guy will join your kind maybe very soon if they have regrets in their life.

🚢He’s also interested in how your anatomy works since he’s an expert in it. He of course wouldn’t use you like some test subject, but he is just kind of interested how you are able to turn your whole body in one moment in something thinner than air and in the next moment into something that appears to be flesh and blood again. He also kind of likes it to touch through you since your transparent body has a certain coldness around it which gives him goosebumps. It’s a great contrast to when you have materialized and are in possession of a warm body which leads him to being even more touchy than usual. Lau finds it also always very amusing whenever you suddenly appear out of thin air, your abilities are such a breath of fresh air for him. He tends to be a bit surprised, but is good in hiding it with his usual mysterious smile.

🚢He can only guess that a half-ghost like you are one isn’t very beloved in this world. Lau of course doesn’t think you, he finds it highly interesting that you are a mix from two different species, he never thought ghosts could actually create babies. If there’s the possibility, he would like to meet your parents and talk with them, especially the parent who’s the ghost. It kind of leads him to wanting to isolate you a bit since he doesn’t want some other creature trying to kill you since different from a normal ghost you can get hurt by weapons and die like a normal human even though it’s harder to do.

Ash Landers

▫️Whilst he definitely is informed about all the other magical beings existing in this world, he stays away from pretty much everyone, even his own kind. Ash is just embossed from his obsession with purity and doesn’t think of anyone as really worth living since everyone is tainted by greed, lust, sloth and other unspeakable sins. He even hates his own kind since many angels protect the exact lowlife he wants to get rid off, believing that every life deserves living and given a chance. He is somewhat alone with his crazy goals, but he doesn’t mind.

▫️I think Ash with a ghost darling isn’t a very good mix, a horrible if I’m being honest. For the simple reason that you already died and merely your soul remains on this planet, either because of your own free will or because you carry a burden with you. You’re dead. That should say everything to why Ash is experiencing the true deepness of madness and terror someone could never possibly begin to imagine. He failed, he pathetically and utterly failed to protect the only person who actually deserved a happy and good life. It makes his whole life shatter, next to his already screwed up sanity. It does not matter if you were killed, died in an accident or because of a deadly sickness. The village you lived in will be blamed and slaughtered by him.

▫️He’s horrible to act with this because I have this terrible thought that he will not only not allow you to leave, but also desperately try to search for ways to somehow get your soul back into your body or will find a vessel in which you can live. He does not care if you want it or not, he doesn’t even really care if you’re happy or not. Dead is dead and he wants you alive. He would get incredibly prone and torn apart if you yell and cry at him that you don’t want it, that you want to die finally in peace or like being a ghost. You just don’t understand!! HE HAS TO MAKE SURE YOU’RE ALIVE AGAIN!!!

▫️With you being only something akin to a ghost, a hybrid in here, the situation would still be very tangled, but a bit less than with you being an actual ghost. I see Ash as someone who usually despises hybrids, but you are made the only exception from this. It isn’t worth saying that he isolates you since he would do this in all scenarios, even though he also does it in here due to fearing that someone might talk down to you because of your unidentified species. He kind of thinks he’s the only one who can truly cherish you for your whole beauty. You might have an advantage since you can just sneak past him whilst invisible, question is if you’re heartless enough to let innocents suffer under this because Ash can and will burn whole cities down if it leads him to getting you back.

Azusa Mukami

🔪I don’t think he ever met ghosts or other otherworldly creatures before even though he lived a pretty long life. It stands even open to question if he is aware of the existence such other creatures. Whilst he does know that vampires exist, he himself is a half-blooded one, he is not really too informed about other creatures and might even not really cared about it anyways before meeting his s/o. His brothers on the other hand considered the fact of other magical beings on this planet.

🔪He is saddened that you are already dead, it doesn’t matter since how long you’ve already been. It’s still very upsetting for him, especially if you should be mourning over something you couldn’t do in your life as well. I do see him as someone who might actually possess the selflessness to let you go if you’re really desperate despite knowing he’ll die without you. So it’s up to his brothers to find ways to bind you to this earth because they’re scared what Azusa will do if you should ever disappear and leave him alone for eternity. With a darling who likes their current body and is satisfied with themselves, Azusa will be happy as well and be in love with you and your fascinating powers.

🔪But please let him touch you. He is clingy and likes having physical contact with you and if you aren’t able to manifest yourself and hurt him, he will become overtime more desperate. His brother also realize the problem with you being able to escape anytime you want from them except if you make this place your new place to haunt for eternity which all of them hope. Whilst he does like feeling your actual warmth and body, he still finds your ghostly form appearing, the feeling of cold and lingering touches everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. I do not know if ghosts possess blood or anything like this, I doubt it. So that means at least you don’t have to worry about him eventually giving in to temptation.

🔪He will never be able to understand if someone should dislike his s/o if they should be somewhat of a half breed. As I mentioned, I don’t think he really cared much about the possibility of other beings existing and certainly not a mix made from more than one species. It does add up to his worshipper tendencies since apparently people like you are not very common. He thinks you’re wonderful. As a half-ghost you might have blood inside of you, if it’s from a human is another thing to discuss. But Azusa is from all vampires the one who wouldn’t want to suck your blood, even if it drives him crazy. And even if his brothers try to force him, you can abandon your materialized form anytime for your ghost body. You give Azusa’s brothers honestly a bit of a hard time with your abilities, it’s mocking for them in a way.

[dancingwiththeplanets]

An Angel Amongst Demons - chapter one

Boba Fett x fem!reader

     chapter 2 / masterlist     

Summary:  Boba tries to shield you from the dark side of his life. In his eyes, you are too innocent and pure for the harsh realities of the work that surrounds him. So when one day you stumble upon a meeting gone wrong when you were supposed to be hidden away, Boba’s afraid you won’t like the pieces of him he’s tried to protect you from, or worse, that now you’ll fear him.

A/N:  My first fic in like 6 years, I'm nervous! haha This is kind of an AU I think?? Takes place after the events of season 2.  I’ve added in two OC Mandos to the entourage because I love me some of that tribal brotherhood devotion. Also.. considering making this a series?

Warnings: soft!Boba (like, REALLY soft!Boba) protectiveness, maybe over-protectiveness? small character death, nobody important, two new sexy mandalorians (we’ll learn about them later), not much to be honest.

Word Count: 5.7k+

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There’s a lot to Jabba’s palace that most people don’t know about.  A lot’s changed since the esteemed Boba Fett took over the throne and claimed ownership over the fortress in Tatooine. Castle might actually be a better word for it. Somewhat modest and ordinary looking on the outside, the true magnitude and vastness of the castle is hidden underground, even past the comfortably sized throne room.

What lingers further down the sandstone hallways are an array of rooms and staircases, mostly leading down in different directions.  There’s a library and a kitchen and even a ballroom, which never has and probably never will be put to use.  There are guest rooms that are more suitably described as luxurious suites, for the grand total of zero guests that Boba will allow to stay in his sanctuary.  

There are permanently standing rooms for only a handful of the staff: the maid, Ada. Fennec, of course. And the two newest members of Boba’s trusted, elite team, Enzo and Raul, who arrived shortly before you did.  The two are a pair of dutiful and truly impressive Mandalorians who serve at his beck and call, courtesy of Boba Fett’s ally and only recognized leader (not that he’s ever told what to do), Mand’alor Din Djarin.

Past the staff rooms and further down an open and beautifully lit hall, is the communal area of the palace, the center, if you will. Fully equipped to socialize and entertain guests with comfortable seating, a fireplace, and charming embellishments around the room. A warm and pleasant area of the palace that likewise, does not get as much use out of it as it should.  

And finally, behind the common area, which in its own way, serves as a magnificent entryway, is Boba Fett’s private chambers.  Home to the respected and feared bounty-hunter turned ruler, and you, his haven.  

You. His cyare. His beloved. The ruthless king had fallen in love with you and your delicate heart, seemingly untampered with and somehow not left scarred by the harsh realities of Tatooine.  He saw in you light and tenderness, and you gave him joy and true unconditional love.  He spent many, far too many, late nights in Mos Eisley, at the cantina you worked in as a waitress. At some point visiting you every night to walk you home at the end of your shift, though you assured him you always made it home perfectly fine on your own.  But Boba secretly lived for those extra few minutes he could spend with you walking you to your residence.  Not to mention, he couldn’t fathom why it didn’t scare the bantha shit out of you to be walking around Mos Eisley alone at night, unarmed. That fact that you did sure as hell scared him.  

On most nights he walked you home, you invited him in, unless you were absolutely too spent to spend another moment standing.  But it was on those long nights that poured into the early hours of the lovely Tatooine sunrise that you and Boba grew close and eventually professed your love for one another.  Soon after, he hopefully, and quite timidly, asked you to live at his palace with him.  Though you’d never been before, you knew exactly where it was, and for that matter, who he was.

The new king of Tatooine had a reputation for being ruthless, unforgiving, and dangerous. And you didn’t miss the way people cowered away from his presence, especially when he wore the armor.  Though, by your own calculations, every other patron who marched their way through these lands was just as feral as the Boba Fett they all believed they knew, and not one had ever been as kind or as gentle, or captivated your thoughts, the way he did.    

He knew these things. More than most in the galaxy, he knew what a cruel fate such a pure being could meet, and if truth be told, he wanted to escape with your kind soul and shield you from this harsh planet before anything could harm you.

When he asked you again to go with him, you met his hopeful and loving gaze, eyes filled with devotion and admiration, and the corner of his lips pulled up just slightly in the most endearing of grins, you couldn't help but to instantly wrap your arms around him, leave a kiss to his neck, and tell him nothing would make you happier.

“Besides,” you teased, nuzzling into his neck, “I always wanted to be a princess.”

Boba chuckled and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling your face back and tracing his thumb under your chin. “Believe me, mesh’la. You already were one.”

The next day, you found yourself and what little you owned in possessions, situating in your new home.  Like everyone else, you had shockingly inaccurate presumptions about the size of the palace, soon learning that what lay hidden behind the throne room and down the sandstone halls was a modest castle to get lost in.  No matter, you adjusted to your new environment and routine, though still unused to the respect and coddling you received on a daily basis, you adored every extra moment spent with your king.

Which is how now, five months later, you lay quiet and still as a mouse in bed, gazing dreamily at a sleeping Boba next to you.  The early morning light casting a light blue hue over the room, as the suns hadn’t quite risen just yet.  You were fortunate enough that your bedroom, the top floor to your two story chambers, was one of the few rooms in the palace with a proper window, the rest of your home and castle being underground.  

A low grumble from the man next to you causes you to hold your breath, eyes not daring to leave his form as he breathes in a deep sigh. “You know,” he begins drowsily, “the moment you wake up and opt to stare at me instead of closing those lovely eyes again and getting some more rest, is the exact moment that I wake up too.”

“You don’t have to wake up,” you smile teasingly.

“I can’t help it.” He grumbles, eyes still shut heavily against the apples of his cheeks. “If you’re up, I’m up.”

“For all you know,” You retort, “I’ve been staring at you, awake for hours.”

At this, Boba’s unimpressed gaze turns to you, eyes now latched onto yours. “You haven’t been.” He says.

“And how would you know?” You giggle back, “I haven’t moved a hair. I woke up facing you, and didn’t move anything but my gaze.  So unless you can detect the vibrations from my blinking, you couldn’t know.”

“I know.”

It’s your turn to look unimpressed, “How?”

“Because,” He leans in close to you, your noses lightly touching and a devilish look in his eyes, “If you’re up, I’m up.”

“Mm.” You hum unconvinced, eyes fluttering closed as he leaves a kiss to your nose then pulls away to sit at the edge of the bed.  You follow his form as he stretches to a stand, joints popping as he twists his back and arms around, the result of a body having gone to war and back countless times. You sit up tiredly and lean against the headboard, watching him pull on his under armor, then latching on the Beskar.  Piece by piece his body is decorated with more intimidating and handsome armor, slowly shielding your eyes from the scarred but lovely body of his that you admire possibly a little too much.

“You stare any harder and I might decide to take it back off,” Boba quips, a smirk rising on his cheeks.

You blush, shaking your head and looking away, gaze now pointedly out the window.

“Mesh’la,” He says, grabbing your attention again, his hands now occupied tugging on his gloves as he takes a few strides towards you. He smiles at the pink tint to your cheeks and your guilty smile, the remains of having been caught admiring him still plastered on your face. “I have important business to attend to today. But I’ve arranged for those workers to come and paint the library in a couple hours, would you mind overseeing it?”

He lifts a hand to lightly brush his thumb along your cheek, looking down upon you quizzically.  

“Of course.” You nod eagerly. You've slowly been tending to every inch of the palace, erasing all remnants of the Hutt’s and adding in touches of comfort and warmth wherever you can.  You wouldn’t say decorating is a passion of yours.  But this is your home now, you might as well fill it with things you admire.  Plus, Boba said if you didn’t take over the project, he’d just paint everything grey and toss out the old furniture without replacements.  

You shiver as you untuck yourself from your velvety comforter.  For a fortress built on possibly one of the hottest planets in the Outer Rim, this place can get cold.  Probably due to the fact that it’s rooted so deeply underground.

Happy to have something to do, you head to the fresher for a quick wash before Boba leaves to his duties.  You exit your chambers together, Enzo and Raul already waiting in the common area for you both.  Upon seeing them, you turn and leave a gentle kiss to the cheek of Boba’s helmet for a final moment of private intimacy before you descend the staircase, hearing him chuckle fondly at your action as he follows.  

“Good morning Fett, my lady.” Enzo bows lowly, turning to you.  You laugh and shove his shoulder upon reaching the pair of them. You can hear the hint of amusement in his voice as Raul shakes his head beside him.

“Good morning gentlemen.” You smile.

Boba huffs coming to stand beside you, “Gentlemen.” He scoffs at your words.

Raul clears his throat, “Crane should be here soon, boss.” He says, visor trained on Boba and arms crossed over his chest, gaze briefly turning towards you before meeting the boss again.  

You look towards your partner, “Your meeting today?” You ask.

“Yes.” He says, giving a quick nod.

“Alright,” You say, glancing at the suspiciously still trio of Beskar-clad men, “I’m going to the kitchens to have some breakfast.  Then I’ll meet up with those workers in the library.”

Boba nods again, confirming your agenda.

You stare up at him, waiting for him to sputter out whatever it is you know he’s wanting to say.  

“...Then,” You go on, “I guess I will, do some reading or...baking or...stare at the wall or something.”

“Sounds like a riveting afternoon,” Raul says after a more than comfortable silence.

“Okay,” you smile, chuckling a little and taking a step back, choosing to dismiss yourself now before the awkwardness has a chance to develop. “Have fun with Mr. Crane.”

Boba clears his throat as you turn towards the kitchens, stopping you with a hand on your arm. “Mesh’la,” He says, glancing pointedly at Raul and Enzo, who move to wait for him a few paces away. “Could you do me a favor?”

You tilt your head suspiciously, urging him to go on. “You’re acting rather strange Boba Fett.” You tease.

He grunts, “I’ve had a lot of trouble with Calendei Crane. He’s not a very loyal man, nor do I consider him a good one.  He’s had a lot of chances to make up for the problems he’s caused me, but recently he went too far, and we’re not going to be having a charming reunion just now.” He sighs, “What I’m trying to say is... he didn’t necessarily come here by his own accord.  And he won’t be very happy that he is.”

“I understand.” You nod.

Boba frowns inside his helm. I don’t think you do cyare.

“Alright then,” he says, “That said, I would really appreciate it if you would stay away from the throne room today.  At least until I send Fennec or Enzo for you or something.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his hand opening and closing nervously by his side. He thinks you don’t know what he means. Oh Boba.

You reach for his hand as you step closer to his form. “Boba,” you whisper, leaning up towards him with a small smile, “You are the most kind and gentle man I’ve ever known. But I know that you are a man of business and principles.  You do whatever you have to do. If an employee of yours is out there making a mess under your name, I would expect nothing less than for you to handle it.” You say, hoping to reassure him.

You raise your free hand to rest against the cheek of his helmet, “But I’ll busy myself back here until you’re done.”

He lets out a sigh in relief, hand reaching up to grab yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.” He says, before tenderly tapping his forehead against yours and turning to get on with his day.

You shake your head at his retreating form.  Despite all of the darkness and dirt and the scum that surround Boba in his everyday life, he really does try everything in his power to not let it touch you.  It’s almost as if despite the late night confessions and raw conversations you two have shared about your lives don’t translate to reality for Boba.  As if he somehow believes you don’t truly know what it is that he does and who he is.

He seems to forget that you yourself have grown up with the same scum that populate this planet.  In the nearest city to here in fact, where all the mudscuppers of the galaxy would stay and wreak havoc when this was once Jabba’s palace. You’ve seen things. You’ve experienced things. Some things that, shamefully, you haven’t yet shared with Boba.  But what you can say with the utmost of certainty is that you know exactly the kind of people that like to deal in underworld business.  And you know that there are many cruel beings out there. But Boba, he certainly isn’t one of them.

You sigh, turning to pass through the empty dining hall to the kitchens. The light tapping of your shoes echoing in the desolate space. A part of you wishes you had said to him, ‘Oh Boba, when will you learn that you don’t need to protect me from yourself?’

A necessary conversation for another time, you decide.

Shaking away your thoughts, you wander into the kitchen, making yourself a quick breakfast and giggling a while with Ada, as she begins preparing a stew for all staff members taking up a residency in the palace.  She often prepares meals in substantial quantities, making enough for herself, you, Boba, Fennec, and the two other Mandalorians to all enjoy in your respective chambers.

“Take some of these to go dear!” She calls out, chasing after your form as you exit the kitchen. “You had better be eating a balanced diet.” She chides, handing you a towel with some berries on it.

“Thank you Ada,” you smile, leaving a peck to her cheek and making your way to the library.

When you arrive, the workers still aren't there, and you hum glancing at the clock.  They should have already been here and working at least for an hour by now.  

Expecting their arrival soon, you busy yourself with cleaning dusty bookshelves and making piles of the previous inhabitants' furnishings and decorations you’d rather not have.

You plop down on the floor after sorting through your ninth bookshelf, sighing after attempting to categorize everything by genre. Even opting to make a pile of books to get rid of, because really, nobody needs handbooks on slave trading and dealing in the dark business of the underworld. They’re just not something you’d like in your home.

You glance at the time again. “What on Tatooine.” You mutter, stretching to a stand.  You’ve officially been bailed on, because you've been sitting in this dingy library for four hours and if nobody’s shown up yet, you doubted they would be.  

Looking around at the mess you’ve made, you decide to finish tackling this task tomorrow, and head back down the hall towards your private chambers.

You pause to lean against the wall with your eyes closed, letting out a great yawn. It’s barely past noon and you’re already beat.

A voice calls your name just in front of you, startling you in the dark, candlelit hall.

“Ada!” You jump, with a hand to your chest.

“Mm, I’m sorry sweet one.” She frowns. “You had better go check on your Mandalorian.” She says sternly, wagging a finger up at you. “He sounds angrier than a farmer whose fresh crops have been raided by Tuskans.”

You furrow your eyebrows at her words, frowning. “Does he sound alright?” You ask, concerned.

“Too riled up.” She chides, shaking her head as she continues to pass you in the hall, grabbing a hold of your arm “Go straighten him out, lecture him on that temper of his.”

“Ada,” You sigh, “He’s dealing with a trying issue right now, and I promised that I’d stay away from this meeting.”

“Peh,” She waves her hand in dismissal, “Fine, your decision. But I did see a couple of those workers you were waiting on looking rather frightened up in the throne room.  Go on and fetch them and get on with your project. You left quite a mess in there for me to deal with.”

“What?” You look disbelievingly at her, “Well why didn't you just send them my way. I waited all morning for them.”

She shakes her head, looping her arm through yours as you continue walking side-by-side. You roll your eyes at the nerve.

The sound of sudden, unmistakable shouting, coming from much further down the hall and up the stairs ascending to the throne room stops you instantly. Your eyes widen a bit as the voice carries on, rather menacingly.  You wouldn’t want to be the one receiving the tail end of that conversation.  Boba truly does sound pissed. You wonder how long he’s been with this Crane fellow.

“Ada,” you whisper, the lower tone seeming appropriate, “Don’t you go trying to get me into trouble.” You say, pulling her back as she tries to urge you forward.

“Young lady,” She scolds, looking up at you in a surprisingly threatening way. “I have much work to do. I need my good broom which I left up those stairs, and you need your painters or carpenters or whatever it is those fellas up there are. So, let us ladies get on with our business and fetch our things.”

“If you’re already heading up,” You say through slightly gritted teeth, “Then why don’t you just go up there, grab your broom, and do me the favor of nudging down my workers while you’re at it.”

“Because I have a bad leg. Now either accompany me up stairs so that I don’t fall or go on and get those things for the two of us at last!”

“Maker, Ada fine!” You say, losing your temper. A part of you knowing she was just stirring up trouble. You start up the first step and turn to her with an obvious empty threat. “And I’ll be sure to note to Boba that our maid has a bad leg leaving her incapable of climbing our palace full of stairs.” You mutter disbelievingly.

“Mm, you do that.” She counters.

You sigh, shaking your head as you quickly make your way up, hearing Ada walk away behind you.  

That woman knows far too well that we would never replace her, you think.

Your focus shifting back to the surprisingly silent throne room just up and down the hall, you walk wearily, suddenly a little nervous.

You notice as you near the room, your steps silent down the hall, that there is a hushed but heated back and forth taking place.  

“-swear Mr. Fett I-I d-didn’t know they were-”

“-What?” You hear Boba’s ominous voice interrupt. “You didn't know what?”

His form comes into view as you peek your head into the room, watching him descend the steps of his throne and approaching the accused slowly.  You take a half step back, hoping to further hide your position, seeing as before, you were concealed behind his back.  But given his new stance, the flicker of his gaze upwards and Boba would be met with your sinful and curious eyes.

Raul, you note, leans comfortably against the wall across the room behind Boba, observing the scene from afar, but seemingly more interested in fixing a mechanism on his Westar-35.

Fennec, who, based on the fearful gaze he glances up at her with, was obviously the one to retrieve Crane, staring down at him with a daring look in her eyes, as if challenging him to try and escape this situation. Enzo stands on Crane's other side, blocking most of your view from the accused and his state. You also note that there is no such broom or fearful workers around. Ada.

“Mr. Fett-” He whimpers.

“Sod it.” Enzo growls, raising his weapon to shove against Crane’s neck, hushing his pleas instantly.

You observe the creature as best you can from your corner. You don’t want to peer out any further for fear of alerting Boba of your presence. He wasn’t human, but not terribly strange looking, a blue being, probably a humanoid, but with claws for nails that were certainly not cute. He’s on his knees, head bowed forward in obvious shame and fear, and hands tied firmly behind his back. This guy looks like he’s had a pretty bad couple of days, but you still can’t tell if you feel sorry for him or not.

Boba reaches Crane in the center of the room, and in a manner so menacing and calculated, that exerts a level of dominance that frightens even you, he crouches down on his heels, meeting Crane eye-level.

Boba slowly pulls his blaster out of its holster and lifts it to Crane’s ducked chin, using the barrel to tilt Crane’s face up to meet his.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you feel yourself running out of air.

“You didn’t know what Crane?” Boba repeats in a tone so hushed you could barely hear. “That you were selling information to an enemy of mine?  That you were betraying the trust that I had put in you? That you stole my property, weapons, and money to give to people who wish to do me harm?”

You can’t help but to feel anxious and on edge. Knowing very well you are not supposed to be in here observing the scene in front of you. Wondering if at this point, you should even try to make your silent leave.

Crane, seemingly breathless, and having accepted his fate, nods in defeat. “I’m sorry Boba.” He whispers.

“You violated the terms of our agreement Crane.” Boba says, rising up and adjusting his belt.  “I gave you opportunity after opportunity to make it right.  I told you that this was your final chance. I even gave you the kriffing option to leave!” He finally shouts.

You watch his chest heaving in rage as he continues to stare down at a defeated Crane.

Boba scoffs, “What did you expect would happen?”

The crippled man on the floor does what you least expect, his gaze lazily lifting up to meet Boba’s as he chuckles carelessly, his laugh soon transforming into a truly mad howl.

He looks like an absolute maniac.

Your eyes furrow in extreme discomfort as you watch the dramatic change in scene, and despite the obvious upper-hand that Boba has, you feel the urge to stand between him and this disturbed creature.

“I-I guess,” Crane breathes out between spouts of laughter, “I held out hope. Hope that the famous Boba Fett, oh-” he croaks out another laugh, “I’m sorry, that the-the King of Tatooine, would finally meet his demise like he should have all those years ago in the sarlacc. Oh, Boba, we were all so pleased when we thought you’d met the maker that day, but you...you son of a nerf herder, you lived. And WHY should you get to live while the rest of us died off! TELL ME BOBA FETT! Because you know something? You of all beings do NOT get to cheat death. You think you’re better than the rest of us, trying to make amends for your crimes against nature? Against the galaxy?”  

Crane leans his head forward nearly slamming it against the ground as he violently spits out, “-No, no, no, no old friend. You are the worst, most foul kind of scum to EVER have walked these lands. You are no worse than Jabba, don’t you kid yourself. And if I have played any part in your demise, I’ll have avenged my brothers who have died at your hand. Your end is coming Boba Fett! You will fall, and so will anyone who tries to prevent your end!” He carries on, doubling over while spitting out the most ludicrous threats between maniacal laughter.

A wave of pure fear plunges your heart, leaving a sickly feeling in your gut at his words. You don’t even realize that your longing to protect Boba has unconsciously pulled your body a few steps in his direction. Your error not evident to you until Raul moves from across the room, capturing your attention. You glance at him only to see the gaze of his visor already locked onto yours and his body making quick strides towards you.  

“Boss-” Raul says hurriedly, but not before a shot rings out, causing you to jump and gasp, hands flying up in front of you in instinctual defense.

You open your eyes and turn your head to face Boba just as his gaze snaps in your direction. Even with the visor covering his face you can see he’s taken aback by your presence. His arm lowers quickly with his blaster, holstering it.  Everyone’s attention seems to be on you.

Nobody moves for a moment, and still frozen, your gaze flicks down to the dead being, monster, who lays thankfully slain on the floor.

Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you avert your gaze back up to Boba, whose arm shifts nervously at his side.

“Ner- ner cyare.” He whispers, his tone strained and unlike you’ve ever heard before.

You take a step towards him, but don’t go much closer when Enzo shifts to exist as a barricade between you and the bloody mess to Boba’s side.

“What are you doing here?” He says, seeming to struggle with every word.

“I-I can’t remember.” You say after a beat, nervous again suddenly that you’ve poked your nose into business you told him you’d stay away from.

He stands frozen, panicked behind the harsh mask of his visor. His absolute worst fear being realised as you stand in the aftermath of an execution he himself carried out, right in front of your eyes.

Cruel. Unforgiving. Dangerous. Vile. Sadistic. Merciless.

All words he imagines were running though your sweet mind behind those wide eyes.

“Boba.” you utter, taking another step towards him, hesitating at first then succumbing to your hearts needs and taking up a speedier pace.

Your hands, which at some point started shaking, matching your more obviously quickened heart rate, raise up slowly to rest on his chest, and you swear he flinches at the contact.

“Cyare-” He mutters again, heart beating undoubtedly twice as fast as your own, fear and desperation clinging to the word, but he stops when your suddenly tear-filled eyes meet his gaze and you cling to the sides of his helm.

“Boba, are you okay?” You whisper frantically.

At that, he lets out a shaky exhale, body loosening and head tilting slightly at your words.

“What?” He asks, stunned.

“Are you alright?” You say, searching desperately through the dark visor of his helm for his warm, brown eyes.

“Am...am I okay?” He repeats.

“Yes I-I heard everything he said.” You stutter, head turning to meet the deranged creature's corpse covered in his own blood before Boba finally and frantically grabs a hold of your cheek to gently avert your gaze away from the scene. “He-he was absolutely maniacal.” You let out a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry I came but I-I heard shouting and A-Ada said something I can’t even remember what but I ended up here somehow and please don’t be mad but maker I just didn’t expect this-” you pause, tempted to glance at the corpse again but your cheek stays steadied in Boba’s hand, “-this monster to be here, threatening you and maker I know you’re alright, you’re always alright, but I desperately wanted to be standing between you and him to do anything to shield you from his threats I-”

“-Mesh’la.” Boba says, more of his confidence appearing in his voice and his movements but still weary nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” You repeat desperately, cradling his helmet firmly in your hands again.

“I’m-yes. Yes mesh’la, I’m alright.” He stutters out, “Are-are you not afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you?” You breathe out, taken aback. “Never, Boba. I-I could never fear you.”

Boba’s completely stilled in your arms. It feels like hours, your wide eyes looking at him with that familiar tenderness and devotion. You almost forget about the other’s, standing completely motionless around you, until Boba suddenly turns you and urges you forward with gentle hands on your waist, his form practically shielding you, quite fruitlessly, from the scene he guides you away from.

When you reach the hallway, he allows you to pull him next to you instead, as he opens the door to the closest chamber in sight and ushers you into it, closing the door behind you both.

The dimly lit room casts a warm glow on you both as you turn to face Boba, whose back is slumped up against the closed door. He heaves in slow, heavy, deep breaths.

You stand, unmoving, only a few inches from him.  Gaze locked on his visor, you wear a concerned expression on your face, your own breaths silent but speedy as you wait for him to explain his behavior.  

He finally says your name, both his palms rising in a pleading request for you to take them.  

You place your hands gently in his, and he cradles them to his chest, looking down at them. So small and clean and innocent in his dark gloves that carry the stains of countless victims.

You hold your breath when you hear a choked sob escape from his modulator. Your mouth falls open a bit, eyes flitting down to where he stares at his hands caressing your own.

“Boba?” You mutter.

As if prompted by your voice, a more obvious sob falls from Boba’s lips, and his hands release your own, finding purchase on your hips as he falls to his knees before you.

You gasp out a breath of disbelief as you watch your partner, your warrior, your Boba, cling to your waist. Silent sobs shake his body as he hesitantly pulls his hand from you and places it under the lip of his helmet, tugging the armor off and letting it topple to the floor beside you.

Tears spill down Boba’s face, following the same trail left behind by the first few that managed to fall. You grasp his face in your hands, thumbs sweeping across his cheeks and erasing the tears that slid down his scarred skin.  

Your vision blurs as your own eyes well with tears. “My love,” You whisper, “What’s wrong?”

His forehead tightens and brows furrow, making him look like he’s in pain. “Mesh’la I-” he stops to compose himself, his eyes looking down though you hold his face in your palms. “You- you do not fear me?”

“I could never Boba.” You assure him, you voice cracking as you say the words. “I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone in my life. You...being with you, makes me feel safer than I ever thought I could feel.”

Your hand leaves his cheek to smooth out the worried lines on his forehead, and you bring your index finger under his chin, urging him to look up at you. “That creature, monster, whatever he was,” You start, “He was disloyal and foul and cruel. He wanted to hurt you. Which means he wanted to hurt me. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you. You’re my everything Boba.”

He stares up at you, vulnerable, more unsteady than you’ve ever seen him, but you go on, “I know who you are Boba Fett. I know that you were a bounty hunter. I know that now you rule the underworld and that sometimes you do unpleasant things. I know that you have regrets and I know that you have a past. I have one too. But most importantly, I know that you are a good man, worthy of my trust. And I will stand by your side every day for as long as you want me here, because I love you. My mind, my body, my soul,” you whisper, tears flowing down your own cheeks now, “-they’re yours Boba. All of me is yours.”

Tears well in his eyes again as you speak, but he doesn’t hide from you as he frowns against the tears threatening to spill again. “I love you so much.” He confesses almost fearfully.

You reach down to unlatch his hands from your waist, though you’re met with mild resistance, before you kneel to be level with him. You lean forward slowly and kiss him, passionately and desperately and devotedly. He cups your face in his hands, pressing you to him as close as he can before releasing you.

“You,” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours with closed eyes, “You are too pure for this galaxy. An angel living amongst demons.”

“And I suppose you think you’re a demon?” You shake your head, smiling at the absurdity of it.

“Me?” He grins, “A fallen angel? Most definitely.”

[everythingblreview]

Slow Damage review 2.0 Part 1

It’s 16 pages actually 

Hello I’m back and instead of actually writing a new review of a game, or playing a new game that’s a lie I’m playing more than one VN at the same time right now. I’ve been thinking a lot about slow damage lately and wanted to write my full thoughts/analysis on it. For this occasion, I replayed the game. This will be full of spoiler of everything in the game as well as the spoiler of the short story.

Disclaimer: This is MY opinion, I’m not wanting to start a discussion, this is just how I experienced the game. Not everything here will be in a positive light and I don’t hold back from criticize what I didn’t like. This is a fictional game so please don’t attack me. But if you are fine with me babbling 16 pages about the game, you can go ahead. Important to note: Towa is my favourite character, so my thought on the routes are all Towa centered

(I probaly forgot some stuff but please excuse the game is really long)

I will start from the unlocked route and work toward the true route. Starting with Taku~

Taku

After replaying Taku’s route I noticed some differences to my first time playing.

First his route was my second favourite in the game the first time I played it, but replaying it, it was not really interesting anymore. His story is all about him developing drugs for Toono because of his deb he made so he could study to become a doctor, but if you know already about this part there is nothing else to really investigate. His backstory with his mother is ok, he feels guilty for stuff he done in his route but that’s all there is, when you already know the secret Taku is hiding, there is not much left, that’s why is lacks something if you replay it.

The second thing is his relationship with Towa, before I talk about the problem, I personally  have with it I will talk about the things I did like: Taku already was protective of Towa since he was a child, and his feeling developed into more later on, from what Taku said we can assume his feelings turned into “like” after the incident with Asakura. Towa feeling to Taku developed during the time they spent together when they were both locked in the building. Taku was someone he always felt save with, back in his horrible childhood when no one was there for him, only Taku(it was probably the only time he could get away from his crazy mother), and after the fear of losing Taku he noticed he has deeper feelings for him (at this point we can’t say that is romantic love because Towa doesn’t understand this feeling, but Taku is special for him it’s canon don’t attack me). The development part of their feelings was nice and felt pretty realistic. Secondly, I like how they dealt with Taku falling for a guy. Taku said he wasn’t interested in the same gender from the beginning, but he didn’t say stuff like “I’m not gay, I’m straight” or something like that. He just said he is not experienced with it, and he didn’t just go for it after Towa “attacked” him and was still unsure at this point, and only later when he was sure he had romantic felling he went for it, which was quite nice.   Now to for the things that I can’t get over and ruin the relationship for me. First, from the true route we learn that Taku has been lying about Towa past the whole time, (telling him his mother was a great woman) so this relationship is already based on a lie. Towa mother was not a great woman like Taku tells, she is the whole reason Towa has suffered his whole life, and while Taku may not know the everything, he knows what Towa went through but still he keeps his mouth close. There is a scene after the confession scene, where Taku wanted to say something (probably about his past) after they talked about his mother, but decides not to even after Towa asked him about it. In the end after he gets released from prison Towa asked him again and he acts like he has no idea what he is talking about and just says something else. And this brings me to the thing that annoys me the most: How Taku deals with Towa’s mental health problems, or to say it simple, he just doesn’t. The first thing I noticed when I replayed it, Taku is acting like he doesn’t know about it, even though he does. Always saying how Towa behaviour (about him drinking, smoking and sleeping with guys) “was always like this” and saying that “your heart is still dead”. Taku you know exactly how horrible his past is how can you say such stuff??? He always tells Towa how he should stop doing it, but he doesn’t think about doing something to prevent it. I know that he is worried about him but the only thing he deals with are Towas wounds. His wounds may heal but his heart doesn’t if you keep putting only bandages on him Taku. He is really bad at dealing with mental problems, his way to get over it is just not to talk about, in the hope it will go away at some point but in Towa’s case it won’t ever go away, it is destroying him slowly from the inside.

He is also overprotective of Towa in a bad way, putting a chip in Towa after getting rid of Asakuras shitty DIY wings and even going as far as TRYING TO KILL Towa and I though Rei will be the yandere after Tonno tells him he won’t let Towa go after both of the get kidnapped by Toono. I understand that he wants to protect Towa and it is indeed dangerous to let Towa do what he wants because he doesn’t care for himself, but Towa need some kind of freedom, he is not stupid. He acts like Towa is his thing and I didn’t like this part. And the last thing, that left me in a uncomfortable feeling is in the very end he says Towa causes to many problem that why you should not leave him alone, but the goal would actually be to heal Towa to a point, where he does not need help anymore but we never get to it here sadly. (and please stop with the housewife Towa look in the end it hurts my eyes)

I also don’t like the age gap of 20 years in the relationship, because I cant deal with the thought of one person dying way before and leaving the other person behind but that’s a me problem.

The first time I was not sure what to think about Taku’s route but after knowing all this stuff and replaying the route, I just can’t like this pairing sorry.

All the things above are only about Taku and Towa’s relationship, I do like Taku as a person and I enjoyed that he is like a father figure toward Towa and like a family for him. It’s really cute that he really cares for Rei too and treats him like a son better than Rei’s trash father ever could like they are a small family.

Rei

From beginning we get to know Rei as Towa’s and Taku’s best friend, who speaks like a woman and acts a little like it, we also learn that he enjoys fighting and participate in deathmatches. His route is about his struggle with the deb his father (who is a piece of trash) has and his own gender. From the second chapter we learn that Rei is a pure soul, he is a good boy that does not see the bad in human. (Compared to Towa who had a bad feeling from the start) and Rei tells us that in his past he was always mistaken for a girl.

The first time playing his route, the whole thing about his gender felt really sudden but after replaying his route, they were some hints that Rei does struggle with it. Like him telling about his past and him asking Towa what is “manly”. Rei doesn’t want his friends to get involved with his problems that’s why he tries to keep his distance, but Towa is someone he can feel at peace with. Rei’s gender struggle comes from the fact that his parents treat him as a girl when he was a child, it really messed him up because he starts thinking that he was a girl, but still got kicked out by his father after telling him he is gay. Rei hated his own gender even going as far as trying to cut off his… in front of Towa. But through his love for fighting, he realized that he wants to be a man, and after talking (and fighting for fun) with Towa he decides he will now live and act as a man.

Not gonna lie, I really like Rei for his feminine side, though I never thought of him as a woman and while it makes me a little sad that he doesn’t want to be like it, I can accept that he wants to be a man, because in the end the “fem Rei” was never real. He was forced into this feminine roll and that was not the real Rei. What I like about his character is that, while he has his love for violence, he is still a innocent and pure soul. He really cares for others and only wants his best for his friends. (He is also the person, who is looking for true love and doesn’t sleep with others for fun) Even though his father is a big shit he still wants to help his father so he doesn’t start working with child trafficking again. He knows Towa since middle school and was always interested in him, but romantically only after the whole thing with Mizuno, when Towa protected him.

What I really didn’t like the first time I played it is that, while you can really feel that Rei likes Towa, Towa doesn’t share the same strong attraction. It felt more like Towa just agreed to this relationship in the end, but replaying it, I noticed that Towa does care for him in his own way, the first time it’s difficult to say because you don’t understand Towa’s personality. Towa always agrees do help Rei if he asked him for something and he worries about him. The relationship of all the pairings starts at the end of the game so it’s always difficult to say how it works out, but Towa did have a pleasant feeling after Rei’s confession and after they slept together. I want to see more development on Towa’s side because compared to his feeling for Taku in his route it felt weaker with Rei (for me), hopefully they explore it in the drama cd.

While Rei does say some things like Taku to Towa (that I didn’t like) I can’t blame him for it because he doesn’t know Towa’s past.

Regarding  Rei’s personality, I hope they don’t change to much about him, because it would be stupid to make a character and then change him after everyone already start liking him like the way he was. They changed his way of speaking (what you probably won’t notice if you don’t understand Japanese) which if fine, doesn’t bother me but if he will start saying stuff like “I can’t eat cake anymore because only woman do” …. Yeah please no. and he cut his beautiful long hair short noooo and it looks so bad please change it We have to wait and see how Rei’s change will affect him in the end, and I want to see how their relationship will develops  especially on Towa’s side

Madarame

I wanted to replay everything, just to make sure I didn’t forget anything, but with Madarame’s route I just had to give um in the middle. The first time I played it I went through it without problems because I was expecting something from it, sadly it never happened, but this time it was just like playing a never-ending bad end, and I just felt so sad that I had to stop playing. And now I can confidently say, I hate everything about this route. And I did give this route a chance because I don’t like to go into a game thinking I won’t like character, I try my best to understand the story and characters, but it was no use here. I just don’t understand why such a route was needed to for a character like Towa. Knowing how much Towa was abused in the past and that he suffers from extreme mental trauma because of this makes everything worse, this route really brings out the worst of Towa’s mental health issues.

Starting from the beginning we learn that Towa and Madarame used to hang out together and Towa did feel good hanging out with him (they were not in a relationship and there were no romantic feelings which is confirmed). Towa tells us that this was in the past and that he is not this person anymore, also he tells us that he doesn’t like following orders and doesn’t like treatment from Madarame, that’s why dealing with him is hard and after understanding this himself, he wanted to keep his distance. Of course this is not in Madarame’s favour, he want his “pet” all to himself (He even said Towa need an “owner”).So he kidnaps him and tries to break Towa, to let him remember how he used to be. For this he uses violence and treats Towa like shit. We know that he knows about Towa’s abuse in his childhood and still he uses the same horrible methods as Towa’s mother did, taking away his freedom and chaining him to a place, keeping him in silence which he hates. Raping him (of course Towa let it happen because he is used to it) and slowly breaking his mind so Towa starts thinking he needs Madarame. When Towa says something against him, he got angry or just straight up beats him. Towa has no freedom in this “relationship” it only goes the way Mada want it. There is no communication it’s just a typical “alpha male” top and controlled bottom dynamic between them. It was so sad seeing how Towa went against his friends after he spent some time under Madarame’s influence.

In the beginning Towa is so desperate that he would rather die than to be with Madarame, and I don’t know why we have to think this is “romantic” or some shit like that? Its funny how they tried to include them acting like a couple in the second half of the route. Like Madarame said Towa doesn’t need a collar anymore, sure because he is now manipulated into thinking he need Madarame. I will never forgive him for the emotional and physical abuse he let Towa go through in the beginning.

Madarame himself just feels like he is not even human, this guy has no feeling and his feeling for Towa are like a feeling you have for your pet (or better to say animal? Because you would treat your pet better) and he treats him like a pet. (I’m really not a fan of the whole “your mine” “you belong to me” thinking, human are not objects, just because you decide to be with someone doesn’t mean you are their property) I understand they wanted to go for the “he lives in the present not the past and he is honest and doesn’t lie” thing but it made him feel like he has no feeling at all. Showing that he likes cats made no sense to me, because what’s the point if he treats a cat better than Towa? Did they try to make him look like he has a loveable side? Because it sure didn’t feel like it for me. Trying to make abuse ok by showing that this guy likes animals in that case it’s totally ok …yeah sure not.

He really did everything to manipulate Towa into thinking that he needs to be on “this side”, the side that always abused him, by slowly breaking Towa. Towa himself has no understanding for right or wrong, he just does what he thinks is right for him in this moment, that’s how his brain works.  

Madarame says he and Towa are the same because both want violence, but I can only disagree, they couldn’t be any different Towa’s love for violence is a reflection of his abuse as a child, something that was done to him and he now thinks he needs, it’s something he does to try to cope with his trauma, his love for it is not real. While Mada on the other hand, likes it because who knows why it’s not like we ever get to learn anything about this guy because he never says anything. This guy wants nothing and is not interested in anything, I don’t get what I’m supposed to like here. The route ends with Towa and Madarame running away, leaving Towa life, his home and his friends that tried to protect him, to live their life on the streets fighting and enjoying violence, and for me this is the opposite of a good end, it’s just hurt knowing Towa is forever stuck in the circle of violence. (and blond hair really looks bad on him)

I played a lot of bl games and there is always abuse, rape and manipulation involved in almost every bl game, but this has to be the worst case of abuse I ever had to go through and this is coming from a person who likes Mink.

I may said a lot of negative stuff about Taku, but compared to Mada, Taku is an angel send from heaven Funny because Madarame says Taku is trash. The theme was to throw your past away and living in the present, but it felt more like let’s embrace the mental illness and violence.

(the only thing worth going through this hell one time is seeing Mayu, Kotarou and Towa in a suit, especially Towa looks very hot, boi)

The route had an interesting start, and they had a good backstory to write something good with all the stuff with Kaga and so one, but they did absolutely nothing with it and chose to make it about abuse, rape and manipulation, the easy way to force a “romance”(because there is no) into it, and in the year 2021 I expect just something better from it, consider how well the rest of the game is written. N+C really had to bring this rape abuse combination back, didn’t they? They got rid of some bl clichés and I’m thankful for it but we are only half through it, they still need time.

The route just felt extremely disappointing and made me feel horrible.

[aceofpandas]

What-if for Season 4

So at the end of season 3’s episode “Ladybug” we see that Adrien "asking” Lila to get Marinette back in school and what not. Words are spoken and wow just look at how they’re spoken:

That line right there! Okay so I watched this episode in English and in [Latin American] Spanish and wow the way that line is spoken. Both voice actors really conveyed how Adrien would channel his anger. It’s not an emotion we really got to see in Adrien before but in both languages the barely contained anger is something I feel is in line with what we know about Adrien who controls and is conscious of his emotions. It got me thinking about how passive aggressive this boy really is and man oh man how I wish that it get’s worked into season 4. Passive aggressive Adrien Agreste vs. resident liar/manipulator Lila Rossi. Yaaaas sign me up.

Hopefully, this side of him is explored next season and we can finally give Adrien some rivals who can help us explore his character a little more. This ending suggests that Lila is completely in Adrien’s danger radar and he’ll be in Protect Marinette Mode (similar to his Protect Ladybug Mode). In fact, the scene pictured above aligns with his self-sacrificial tendencies that he has as Chat Noir. Lots of people have mentioned that agreeing to the photoshoot is him selling his soul,  but he also establishes that he won’t ever have a genuine friendship with Lila. Bring on the war!

I personally think that Adrien, who we know isn’t too confrontational, will take a subtle approach. And how can he do that? Well, he could channel his inner actor where he can certainly play the part of “friend” while simultaneously working to discredit Lila. 

Like you can not tell me that Adrien, who’s enrolled in a bunch of activities, was not enrolled in acting classes at some point in his homeschooled life. His mom was an actress, so it’s not like his parents would be against the idea of acting lessons. He was even the VA for his own superhero persona in canon’s LB+CN movie lmaoooo. Yes, he’s a model and very much loved by the people of Paris so perhaps being chosen for the role isn’t too surprising, but that also doesn’t mean he has no talent or training for it. Let’s be real, modeling could be the compromise to his parents wanting their son to follow in their footsteps. Modeling is the fashion from his dad and the art of perfecting his facial expressions from his mom.

And like even if acting lessons were never a thing, his mom was around in his life. We know basically nothing about the woman, so really we can speculate that she showed Adrien a thing or two about acting. Let’s say it was through her that Adrien learned to be expressive, to be not expressive, and to be anywhere in between. His mom could have taught him to roll with what life has to offer through ad libs and improv. Adrien we’ve seen to have a dramatic flair as both Adrien and Chat Noir, and he honestly controls his temper waaaay better than we give him credit. Sure he makes mistakes, but really he’s human and he does learn from them (now if only the writing could keep character development for its characters but yeeaaaah).

Here’s a scenario where Adrien can start his stop Lila campaign:

Adrien and Lila are interviewed about the recent shoot and you know questions roll around about how was it working with together, they’re classmates right, are the two dating, yada yada

Adrien answering and not even trying to let Lila get the first word in because the boy is on high alert and knows this girl will try to spin it in her favor

“Oh, it was surprising my father even thought of letting one of my classmates model with me. In fact, I didn’t even know Lila was interested in modeling. Still, it was interesting to work with someone new to the field.”

Which on the surface seems like an ordinary, polite response; appropriate of Adrien but it’s also everything Adrien needs to corner Lila. 

In all of three sentences Adrien says he played no part in making the photoshoot happen, effectively shuts down the possibility of dating Lila, and establishes to the public that Lila is nothing more than a classmate, one he doesn’t even know well.

Lila is annoyed but she’s not giving up because she’s under the impression that Adrien is far too agreeable and spineless therefore she writes him off as Not a Threat

Hahahaha jokes, Adrien plays on people underestimating him

“Well, I didn’t want you to think that I wanted to make it seem like I was using you because we’re friends and friends don’t do that.”

Or something along those lines I dunno

“That’s the great thing about our class everyone is so nice that we can all be friends. Lots of us are so creative and I love getting to know everyone. Nathaniel, Lila’s desk mate, is a great artist; sketching, painting, he’s your guy. He’s currently working on a superhero comic with Marc from the other class and I can’t wait for what else they come up with for the sequel. Ivan, who sits in front of Nathaniel, he’s a rockin’ drummer, and Rose, she’s another one of our classmates, killer voice and awesome lyrics. Her best friend, Juleka plays bass and I’ve actually modeled with her before. Nothing official, but since I know Juleka wants to be a model I honestly thought she was going to be the one I was modeling with for this shoot. Sure it wasn’t a huge shoot, but Juleka did such a great job. And the clothes we modeled were made by our everyday Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Marinette, she’s also our class rep by the way, is such a brilliant designer! Did you know that she actually won one of my father’s contests? Her hat was adored by Audrey Bourgeois AND she was offered the chance to move to New York. And you know…”

Basically, Adrien ends up spending the rest of the interview talking about how much he knows about his friends and “gee it’s such a shame I don’t really know much about you Lila.”

Read: you aren’t special, I have more friends, and I actually pay attention to them.

Bonus point: Alec is the one who interviews them and he picks up on Lila becoming more and more frustrated with Adrien. 

Pretty in character for him to poke the bear *cough* Stormy Weather *cough* so for him to let Adrien take the reins of the interview for the sake of drama isn’t that much of a stretch.

Alec: What about Lila? 

Adrien: I don’t know, I really don’t want to get anything wrong so she can answer

The next day, the interview is the only thing anyone can talk about 

Adrien’s classmates gushing about how sweet Adrien is because he literally showed them that he really cares about them. 

Adrien remembering all this information about all of them and hyping everyone up on TV!!

Friends know each other’s dreams and likes and dislikes and Adrien isn’t known to have lots of free time, but him making the effort to remember all that about each person is flattering to the class

Let Adrien show how much he appreciates and admires his friends pleeeeeeease

Lila can be in the background plotting how to paint Adrien in a bad light 

But uhhh the class is going full Protect This Precious Boy at this point so your plan has to be fool-proof Lila

Bonus point: the class is now more sus of Lila after the whole Marinette-got-expelled-and-then-unexpelled (which is still fresh in their minds). 

No one get’s an expulsion reversed unless they’re innocent 

And dude Lila was in the middle of that whole mess. 

Whatever Lila did shows she has the power to get any of them expelled. 

If the kids aren’t at least wary of Lila in season 4, then the writers really be tripping because too many red flags around Lila for people to just wave them off.

In other news, Marinette starts to trend after enough of Adrien’s fans connect the dots that she’s the same girl who they chased around that time she and Adrien went to the movies

If the majority of Parisians weren’t convinced they were dating back then, oh boy they at least ship it by this point hahahaha

[newtxtinaforever]

Happy Birthday Tina!

Hello there! Today's one shot is sponsored by @neighborhood-newtina-reblogger, a tumblr that I greatly admire. Okay, it's not technically sponsored by the blog, but it did provide the prompt/idea for this one shot, which I will include at the very end in case you want to know what it is. Also, the fanart above belongs to @sydsketch and partially inspires my fanfic as well. Don't want to put the prompt at the beginning and spoil the story, so without further ado, I hope you enjoy this little piece of my Newtina heart. Oh, and happy birthday Tina! ☺️

3rd POV

"Oh, Newt. She's perfect!" Tina exclaimed happily, a smile brightening up her usually tense features. It wasn't that the American witch held a grudge against smiling or having fun; quite the opposite, in fact. She was so used to being responsible that her default look was to come across as a professional who took her job seriously. When she was with Newt, however, she couldn't help but smile. His light-hearted nature simply had a way of making her feel like she could let her guard down and didn't have to worry about what kind of person Newt was. Having fought alongside him in the fight against Grindelwald, Tina knew she could trust Newt. It was a good thing because he had just given her a creature to call her own.

"Really? That's wonderful to hear. I hoped you would like her but I wasn't completely sure if you would be interested in-" Newt was quickly interrupted by Tina's warm words of gratitude. "I love her, Newt. Thank you," she replied. Her eyes sparkled with a light reminiscent of the creature that currently rested in its small glass case. "What's her name?" Tina asked softly as she admired the speckled salamander. Newt blushed before replying, "Well, I thought you might like to name her seeing as she's yours." Both pairs of eyes connected for the briefest of moments.

"Of course!" Tina blurted, although she soon regained her composure. "I'm not quite sure where to start, but I'm sure we can think of something." Newt's tender smile at Tina's inclusion of the word 'we' went unnoticed for the most part, yet the tone of their environment was clearly evident. It was nearly impossible to miss the delicate care each person felt for the other, so alive and tangible was it. The silence that settled in during certain moments of the conversation were not uncomfortable, but peaceful instead. Surprisingly enough, Newt was the next one to speak up.

"Keegan," he uttered cryptically. Tina tilted her head to the right by a dozen degrees. "Who?" she wondered aloud, her sharp eyes fixed on Newt. The famous magizoologist remained quiet for several seconds until Tina cleared her throat. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was simply suggesting Keegan as a name, but I understand if you don't like it. She's yours, so feel free to choose whatever name you feel is best."

Tina lowered her gaze to the ground, then extended her head upward. "The name's fine, Newt. And I want you to be included in the naming process, trust me," she said with reassurance in her voice. Newt smiled. "What about Thea? She's the Greek goddess of light, which is fitting since salamanders feed off of fire, right?" Tina inquired. She waited for a response from Newt, but he appeared not to have heard her. Beginning to wonder if something was wrong with him, Tina repeated the end of her previous sentence. "Right, Newt?"

The man in question displayed signs of life after what seemed like forever. His nose was scrunched as if he had caught a whiff of rotting maggots while his eyes blinked ferociously. What was going on? Tina prompted Newt to explain his behavior, although it took some serious persuading. "The name sounds a bit like... well... like Theseus, my brother." Tina nodded her head in agreement and decided to move on. The last thing she wanted was for her new companion to remind Newt of his older brother.

"Perhaps you might consider Idris. It's Welsh and can mean 'fiery' depending on the language." Newt explained gently. His voice was rich and full of childlike wonder, much to Tina's delight. It was rare to find such a kindred spirit in a world where brute strength and power was often congratulated. Tina tried not to let her emotions become too obvious as she lovingly murmured, "I think Idris is a lovely name. Thank you, Newt." Once again, both pairs of eyes connected and lingered; the result was pure fascination and ultimately love.

With their eyes still fixed on each other, Tina closed the space between them. Her long, thin arms wrapped themselves around the middle of Newt's back. Much like their prolonged glances, this embrace was personal and private, something that was special between them. Tina was keenly aware of Newt's reservations regarding the hug, so she made sure to take baby steps while reassuring Newt at the same time. Her fingers brushed lightly against Newt's back, the warmth from her hands radiating through his pale blue shirt. With a great amount of hesitance and care, Tina tightened her grip on Newt. Hopefully he wouldn't feel uncomfortable; that was the last thing Tina wanted. Nevertheless, she held on to him, refusing to let go just yet.

Nearly a minute had passed before Newt reciprocated the hug. Unbeknownst to Tina, his eyes watered and a huge grin spread across his face. Both sets of arms rested gently on the other's back, a sign of peace and acceptance. It didn't take long for Tina to pull Newt in closer, more confident this time. Any lingering doubt as to whether or not Newt would perceive such intimate physical contact to be desirable was gone. She knew that he would understand just as she had learned to understand the roundabout way he comforted and complimented her.

With an overflowing heart, Newt Scamander enveloped Tina in his arms; pure, sentimental emotion surrounded them. Every part of him wanted nothing more than to freeze that moment and remember it forever. Not only was it rare for Newt to desire physical contact, but it was also rare for him to feel so content as a result of it. In Tina, Newt found appreciation and compassion. Despite miscommunication being a continuous issue between them, the two old souls always managed to make things right. If Newt was honest, Tina completed him — to a certain extent. He hadn't felt that his life was 'less than' without her, but he did notice a change whenever she was around, whether physically or in Newt's thoughts. She was someone who helped him restore his jaded view of humanity, and for that, Newt was grateful.

The embrace continued for several more minutes, Newt mentally recording what it felt like to be so close to Tina.

The scent of her hair, the touch of her hands. Newt was so mesmerized that he even dared to lift Tina off the ground, just a couple inches, and spin her very gently. It was instinct and had occurred before he could stop himself. Never before had he allowed his emotions to come off so strongly in the presence of another human being, and he had to admit: it felt freeing.

As for Tina, she experienced similar sentiments during their embrace. Mind racing, heart soaring... Since when did Newt display such sudden outbursts of affection? While Tina was slightly confused by this, she didn't question it because of her elation. If Newt was comfortable enough to be so physically close with her, she took it as a sign of growth and was proud of him. Each second that passed served as a reward earned by the energy both had spent in order to fight against the evil forces that threatened wizards and muggles alike. After years of fighting, Newt and Tina were given a moment of reprieve. A moment to be still, but more importantly, to be happy.

For Newt, happiness took the form of feeding his creatures. This was nothing new, but having Tina by his side — her eyes full of adoration — made the event much more enjoyable. For Tina, growing closer to Newt served as her main source of happiness, although she also happened to find it in the pursuit of wizardkind's most elite criminals. After all, being an Auror was an important part of Tina's life. The fact that her devotion to justice nearly managed to get her killed was unfortunate, yet Tina had put it in the past where it belonged. She needed her job because it allowed her to protect innocent lives, and that was something Tina would never stop pursuing. Whether it was a sideways smile or a lengthy yet tender hug, both Newt and Tina were fond of the little things in life as well as each other. Nothing, not even Grindelwald, could take those feelings away from them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Below is the prompt for the above one shot ⬇️⬇️

I want Tina to initiate newtina’s first embrace. And I want it to happen in a happy context. I want her to realize that maybe Newt isn’t bold enough just yet to make that move, so she takes control and latches onto him. It won’t be like when Theseus hugged him, arms and back stiff the whole time. It will be at first, while he takes a few seconds to process what’s happening. In those few seconds, Tina is fully aware he’s processing the situation, so she holds him even tighter to reassure him that yes, she’s here. She wants this. She will wait. And once he finally accepts that, I want Newt to reciprocate her embrace with an enormous grin on his face (bonus points for misty eyes). I want him to wrap his arms around her back and tentatively return her gesture. Tina pulls even tighter to erase that last bit of questioning how far he should go. Then, Newt fully wraps her up in him, encasing her with his arms and body as completely as he can (bonus points for a little pick up and spin or something extra cute like that). And they stay like that for a while, just appreciating each other. Wordlessly processing their emotions. Surrendering to their feelings. Just being together like they want.

[heres-to-the-lovely-lies]

Always and Forever

Prologue: In the Beginning

The Originals x Reader

This was something that I thought of a while ago and I thought, “I need to write this down.” I want to try and make this into a series, so hopefully writer’s block doesn’t kick in and I never finish this story.

Also, this story does mention deaths of family.

Warnings: mentions of family deaths, spoilers (potentially, if you are still watching the TV series)

I hope you all enjoy! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

See, I never thought I’d live past twenty.

Where I come from, some get half as many.

Nowadays, people are living to be a hundred years old.

If I’m being honest, I wish that is where I could have stopped.

One hundred good years and I would have been fine.

Living for eternity, that’s a different story.

It all started many years ago, a little over a thousand I believe?

The specifics of time don’t quite matter, at least not to me.

When you’ve got more than a thousand years behind you and millions more ahead, time doesn’t always come into mind.

Anyhow, I digress.

I guess I should tell you when it started.

A thousand years ago, I was but a weary traveler moving around from forest to forest. That was just the way that my family and I had lived life. We did not feel bound to one spot like another tribes or villages did. They kept the mentality of hunting and gathering in their minds and lifestyles. We were always moving. Always searching,

Although I loved my family, I came to hate this way of living, especially after what killed them. Looking back, I wish I had convinced all of them to find a place to settle down like the other families that we would pass by.

We had just traveled all day and night in order to follow a herd of buffalo when we came across a small village. You know it now as Mystic Falls. I call it Hell.

The people there had been kind to us. They let us stay for a night in order to get our strength back up for the next day’s travel. It was there where we met them.

Some call them legends. Others monsters.

Vampires.

Werewolves.

Witches.

But when I first met the children of the Mikaelson family, I knew them as human.

There was Mikael, the patriarch of the family and his wife, Esther. She was like me, a witch. She had always been a little more interested in me than other witches we had meet. I wasn’t like most witches, who drew their power from nature or ancestors. My magic always just seemed to flow through me, continuously running from a never-ending tap. Back then, I thought it was weird that I never learned any magic from her, but looking back now, I think I’m happy that I didn’t.

Then there were the children.

The oldest was Finn, who I often quarreled with whenever left in the same vicinity as him. Everyone said it was because Esther would keep an eye on me, which gave him the wrong impression, but I choose to believe it was because I was naturally better at performing magic than he was.

Next came Elijah, the first to greet my family we arrived. His charming looks and calm demeanor had my mother and sister swooning over him. Even my father was impressed with him.

Klaus was also a charmer when he met my family. His smile just seemed to pull everyone in except for me. Every smile sent my way was met with an eye roll. He tried his best to pull me into his mischievous, dare say, dark ways, but I chose to stay out of it. Why get pulled into something that would only last a day?

Kol was just as bad as Klaus. My sister was practically sewed into his arm from the way that she held onto him. Every words, every smile, every look, she was held tight by him, even though he looked like he wasn’t trying to catch her attention.

Rebekah had always been my favorite. Even though she had been the only female Mikaelson child that I had met that day, it felt like she understood me. While Klaus and Kol were persistent in their attempts to pull me into their troublemaking ways, Rebekah seemed to always be by my side to fend them off.

Then there was little Henrik. Sweet, innocent Henrik. When I had first met the youngest Mikaelson, he had surprised me with a flower he had found in the tree line right outside the village. His words had taken me aback with how direct they were. Thinking about it now makes me smile and laugh a little.

“One day, I’m going to marry you.”

Just as quickly as we had met the Mikaelson’s, my family and I were gone. Not even a day later, we were back on our feet and on our way to follow our herd of food.

It was when night fell did my family realize our mistake.

It wasn’t even supposed to happen. We were supposed to be safe. I had created a protection barrier around all of us, created by tracing a circle around our sleeping area and enchanted it. A barrier that only the hand of powerful magic could break.

It had happened so quickly. None of us had seen it coming. Where we had traveled from, we had only heard myths about the shapeshifters. The ones that only changed during a full moon. We never thought we would ever see one in real life.

The werewolf struck right when the moon was at it’s peak and leaves from the trees above us had opened to let in the pale moonlight. First, it took my father, who had been standing watch for us. He didn’t even have time to warn us before he was dragged into the night.

It was when my mother screamed in agony and pain did I wake up. By then, it was already too late. I had opened my eyes to see my mother get thrown to the side, my family already laying dead around me.

I was the last one left.

When the werewolf attacked me, I... did nothing. 

I did not fight back. I did not run away. I had sat there as the monster came racing towards me. I could feel the tears of pain running down my face, but could not seem to scream as the monster started to tear me apart. I cried even when I started to lose feeling in my body. As I laid on my back, eyes open and gazing at the stars, I wait for the sweet release of death to come and take me. I could not live in this world without my family. I would not. They were all I had.

But death never came. Even after the werewolf had finished attacking us and wandered back into the dark curtains of the forest, death never came. And it still didn't come as the dark canvas of the sky started to ombré into a beautiful shade of red, then orange, and finally a light blue.

Even when I tried to will it, I could not die. It was like life and death had decided to play a sick joke on me. Death would not allow me to cross over but life would let me continue on with a permanent reminder of one of the most devastating moments of my life.

When I finally closed my eyes, I could hear faint footsteps coming closer. Then I could hear Elijah’s voice call out for his brothers as those footsteps became louder and faster. I could hear Klaus call my name as I was lifted into the air, strong arms carrying me back in the direction of their village. I assume it was Klaus holding me, but I guess I’ll never be certain as I had kept my eyes closed the entire time.

I could hear Rebekah’s pained cries and Henrik’s confused speech as the Mikaelson brothers and myself reached the village. But still, I did not open my eyes.

I believe I was finally able to sleep when I heard Esther’s voice beckoning her sons to bring my family into a small hut, but it still did not mean death.

I awoke a week later, my skin riddled with scars, some wounds opening again when I finally moved. I was the only survivor.

Having no where else to go, I stayed with the Mikaelsons, growing closer with Elijah, Klaus, Kol, Rebekah, and Henrik. They became more than just friends to me. They were now my family. 

But where there is happiness, tragedy lurks behind it, hiding in its shadow.

It wasn’t even a month later that the Mikaelsons lost Henrik to another werewolf attack. 

The family was never the same after that.

I assume you know the rest of the story from here, but if not, I guess I can summarize it a little.

Mikael asked Esther to perform dark magic to ensure that none of his children died ever again, thus creating the first vampires, The Originals.

They became creatures that could never be killed, the strongest of them all. The ones that would live for eternity.

After a thousands years on this Earth, I blame myself for not stopping Esther. The Mikaelson children were forced to become something so monstrous, so destructive, in order to protect themselves. Over the years, I watched this curse break their souls, pull bits of humanity from them as their hunger for blood and protectiveness for each other danced in circles around them.

The night that the Mikaelsons became immortal was the same night I became immortal as well, except, this was for a different reason.

You could say it was like a page out of a horror movie. The young girl longing to have magic to make her life better or more interesting is visited by the Devil and trades her soul to have everything she could every want.

That night, after the Mikaelsons were turned, I was approached by a man. He emerged from the darkness of the forest, his demeanor calm and collected, his hands behind his back as he came closer.

“I have a proposition for you, young witch. Take a walk with me.”

This man led me away from the village and further into the forest. We walked for what felt like eternity when he finally stopped. The only light in the forest was provided by the moon.

“This is the very spot you and your family were attacked, young witch. Now, it seems as though your new family is facing a similar predicament. Do you want to try and save them?”

Of course I agreed. I had come to fallen in love with the Mikaelson siblings.. They were the only things I had left.

“I only need one thing.”

“My soul?”

“Your life.”

I was, confused. My life?

“I can see that you are perplexed. Let me explain.You see, Esther is performing a spell that can make her children become immortal. They can never die. What purpose does you growing old serve when you want to be able to be there to help them. I guess, in a way, I am asking for your soul, but what I really want is that life force that makes you tick. That makes you grow old. That pushes the blood through your veins and causes your heart to beat.”

All it took was hearing ‘help the Mikaelsons’ for me to agree. I should have put some more thought into it.

I will always remember his smile when he made me immortal that night, right after he took my soul, my life force as he called it, away from me. And I would always remember his name.

Cade.

From there on, I tried to be there for the Mikaelson children whenever I could. That was until we were forced out of the village by Mikael. I had gotten separated from the others when I stayed behind to protect them, using my magic to ward Mikael off.

I wasn’t as strong back then, so Mikael was able to defeat me easily, pushing the white oak stake he had created through my heart before pursuing Klaus and his siblings with it.

I thought death would come for me then too, but it did not. After I could not hear Mikael’s footsteps, I stood up, my clothes stained with blood. That was then when I realized just what deal I had made.

For many years, I would search for the Mikaelsons, but it was as though I was one step behind Mikael and two behind the siblings. Everywhere I went, they were either gone after I arrived or would settle down after I left. To the rest of the world, the Mikaelsons were but a whisper, a figment of imagination. They were myths. But they were all too real to me.

I found myself traveling alone for two hundred years. For two hundred years, I did not give up on them. I called out to each and every Mikaelson sibling using my mind, hoping, waiting for a response. I would cry out into the world, telling them where I was, wanting them to come and find me. I was always met with silence. A silence so deafening at times I would scream to the dark midnight sky in order to not feel crushed.

And still, there was no answer from any of them. For two hundred years, the only answer I received that they were still alive was the trail of bodies left behind at each and every settlement they had managed to land in. 

Then one day, I could not take it anymore. I did the one thing I said I wouldn’t.

I turned my back on the Mikaelsons and I started to walk the opposite way from them. The deal I had made with Cade became a curse. I was left alone with the demons in my head and the nightmares behind my eyelids. 

I had failed Elijah. 

Klaus. 

Kol. 

Rebekah.

‘Always and Forever.’

That is what we all promised each other when Mikael drove us out of Mystic Falls. What a broken promise it is now.

I would not find the Mikaelsons until many, many years later. Not until I, myself, became something so unrecognizable, so much so that my own reflection doesn’t even know who I am.

I am on my way back to Hell.

That is where my story begins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New Orleans. Some things never change. (Y/n) hadn’t been back in New Orleans for more than eighty years, having gotten there in the 1920′s after the Mikaelson siblings were forced to leave. It was specular to see again, looking at everything Marcel had done. 

It was night by the time (Y/n) came strolling into New Orleans. After many years of traveling across the globe, she was ready to lay down again for about a hundred years before setting off again. She needed a break from all the plane rides and carpool adventures. It was good to be back in a place that she knew.

However, as much as she wanted to stay in the town she once called her favorite home, (Y/n) was merely passing though. She would only be in New Orleans for a night before heading on her way to Mystic Falls.

While she never wanted to return to that place again, she had heard a whisper, one so faint even she was convinced it wasn't real. It called out to her, begging her to come back to Mystic Falls. This plea, she could not ignore.

Her house keys in her pocket, (Y/n) walked down the middle of the street. She could hear music and partying faintly in the distance. She didn’t have a care in the world as she walked through the streets. She took her time as she placed one foot in front of the other. The night was peaceful and all she wanted to do was savor it before going to bed and leaving in the morning.

“Well look here, boys. This one doesn't look like a local.”

And the peace was lost.

Turning around, (Y/n) saw three vampires lined up behind her. One of them had their fangs bared already, the dark viens in their face popping out.

“Mhm, you must be new to all this vampire stuff,” the witch spoke.

The three men were taken aback by what she had said. Shrugging her shoulders, (Y/n) turned back around and started to make her way back down the street.

“Go home, boys. I’m sure there is easier prey for you to catch at some party Marcel is holding.”

Now the vampires were even more confused, but they were not about to let some new tourist tell them what to do. Within seconds, all three raced in front of the witch and bared their fangs. They hissed at her as she continued to walk towards them, an amused look on her face.

The next thing they knew, a head splitting pain took over all of them. It was as if their heads were getting ripped off of their shoulders. Their blood boiled and their skin felt like it would melt right off their bodies. As they withered on the street, clutching their heads, (Y/n) continued to stroll past them, not even breaking a sweat as she induced pain and suffering on Marcel’s nightwalkers.

“Goodnight, boys. Don’t let any werewolves bite.”

Continuing down the street, (Y/n) held her head high as witches hiding in the dark spotted the scene that had been caused, their eyes growing wide in fear of what Marcel would do when he found out this witch had performed magic. Did this witch have a death wish?

It didn’t matter to (Y/n). She would not be staying for long.

(Y/n) (L/n) was back on her way to Hell.

[nitholites]

Damienette Soulmate AU, part 2 (here we go again)

Part 1 

Thank you @friendly-neighborhood-enby for proof-reading this word dump you’re gorgeous and I love you

Getting permission to leave the group was disturbingly easy. The fact that Marinette was so 'disruptive to the class, always starting things. Even when she should be leading by example' and Damian was 'so mature and responsible, and works at WE, where employees are known for their trust worthy natures!' helped. 

"You are much too kind for them, Marinette," Damian said as they left the class behind. She had actually restrained him from saying one of the many roasts he dearly wanted to, or from punching the incompetent teacher in the face- whichever he felt like.

Marinette opened her mouth, but snapped it shut and hummed instead. "You can say it," Damian coaxed. "Never halt your speech in front of me."

The look she gave him made him want to turn around and give her class a word lashing they won't forget. She looked almost shocked someone wanted to hear from her- a reaction no one should have. The smile she sent at him made him reconsider that plan. "I wasn't planning on holding back my words- I just realized something."

"Oh? Mind sharing that?"

She nodded. "Maybe you're right, is all. My friends, Luka and Kagami, keep telling me the same thing. I just think it's time to stop defending them like this, is all."

"They truly don't deserve you," Damian said before his mind caught up. As her smile lightened the air around them, Damian asked more about her home life- her hobbies and parents. Learning she grew up in her parents' bakery rang a few bells, but Damian chose to ignore them. She may not have learned from her parents, after all. And how could an angel like her be tied to his mangled, dark soul?

She deserved the world, as he knew from their time together on the tour. He couldn't give her the light she deserved and gave others. But maybe he could give her a space away from the air of her class, away from the cruelty of the people she used to call friends. That would be enough.

Regardless of what he could or couldn't do, what he would do was simple: Protect the smile that lit up the world for as long as she allowed.

Yes, he realized just how absurd that thought process was. They'd known each other for a day- no, a few hours. Vowing to protect her smile so soon was absolutely foolish. If it were anyone other than the kind, selfless girl beside him, Damian wouldn't have given her a spare glance.

If his brothers could see him now, he'd be mercilessly teased till the end of his days. He could hear their voices now- laughing with undertones of utter shock and disbelief.

But when she smiled, when her laugh chimed through the air like a clear bell... well, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Still, he'd suppress his quickly-growing fondness to something manageable until he had time to sort his thoughts.

.

.

.

Marinette, not for the first time that day, had to stop herself from letting loose her full laughter, trying not to embarrass herself and her company in public. She knew she could be loud- her voice carried when she wasn't careful, so she tried staying silent to counterbalance it- but the teen in front of her didn't seem to mind. If anything, he looked amused. The café was their most recent stop, after the museum, gardens, and flea market. A short coffee break before they went back to her class.

"Seriously?" She couldn't- absolutely could not- believe the tale Damian told, though he hadn't yet lied to her.

The teen nodded soberly, echoes of a smirk lingering on his face. "Alfred doesn't trust anyone in his kitchen anymore."

"It's no wonder! I'd do the same thing if my kitchen was as trashed," she stated, letting her hands follow her enthusiasm. "Your brothers committed the equivalent of kicking a homeless, 3-legged puppy to any self-respecting baker, let alone chef! My poor grandfather would have a heart attack!"

"Do you bake?" The question was accented with a slight raise of an eyebrow- a sort of challenge. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was many things- but a loser was not one of them, regardless of the game. Is this a game? she asked herself, slightly surprised at that train of thought. She found she couldn't answer, realizing their conversations were many things.

"When I'm stressed," she admitted. "I love the bakery and my parents, but practically coming out of the womb with a baking sheet in my hands put a few... habits in me."

Damian didn't verbally respond, moving his hand and nodding as though to say 'Go on'. So she did. "Bakers wake up at least two hours before the shop opens- or at least we do. The bakery opens at seven A.M. every morning, so we wake up at five at the latest. Usually closer to four," she started, sending a bright smile and a nod to the waiter who set down her coffee. A returned smile and a small greeting later, she returned to her explanation. "So check ‘early riser’ off the list. As stated before, I stress-bake. But I also help Papa with trying new recipes. So I'm practically always on the lookout for new or interesting flavors and combinations. Sometimes, I get so focused that I forget what I was doing," she sheepishly smiled, earning a chuckle from the boy before her.

"How do Gotham pastries compare to your family's?"

He thought the question was innocent enough.

Thought being the crucial word there.

A fire lit in Marinette's eyes then, a fire that told of harsh rants and moving arms. She laid all her complaints out there, genuine tears gathering at her eyes as she mourned the lack of decent baked goods. And as she explained each good, Damian found himself nodding along, nearly able to taste the poor items from her descriptions alone.

He nearly gagged from the imaginary taste. Never before had he uttered a sincere apology to someone outside his family, but he found himself looking into her eyes with as much remorse as he could muster. "I'm extremely sorry you had to sample those."

"It's alright, I suppose," she sighed. "I've actually started working with the bakers there to improve the pastries."

"Already? How long have you been in Gotham?"

"About a day."

She moved fast. "Perhaps one of these days, I can show you the better restaurants Gotham has to offer."

Damian paused, his mouth having moved before his brain even realized he spoke. "I mean, if you're free," he added, trying desperately to make the awkwardness clinging to the table vanish.

Before she could answer, a familiar voice called out. "Ya sure it's here, Pam?"

Damian turned in his seat, surprised at the arrival of none other than Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. He had to forcefully relax his body, seeing as the rogues had a good streak going. "I'm positive," the red-head responded, eyes searching the café. "This place is absolutely thriving." She gestured to the ivy on the wall near the register, which Damian now realized looked a bit greener than usual.

"Is something wrong?"

He turned back to Marinette, considering his next words. "Probably not," he eventually said. "What do you know of Gotham's rogues?"

"What was on the internet," she replied, eyeing the two women with... interest. "I wanted to make sure everything we needed to know was in the pamphlets, so I did my research."

Neither got the opportunity to speak more as Ivy approached their table, Harley following close behind. The questions sent Ivy's way were  ignored, both from Harley and Damian. But Marinette's were answered, as she asked with a small smile. "May I help you?"

"How are you doing that?"

Marinette blinked, confusion etching into her features. "I'm sorry?"

"The plants are singing your praises," Ivy continued. "You heal them. How?"

If Damian had been watching Marinette instead of Ivy and Harley, he would have seen the flicker of understanding and surprise pass through the small girl. As it was, only Ivy, who had been watching her intently, saw it. "I simply have a bit of a green thumb," Marinette smiled, tilting her head as she did so. “That… isn’t a problem, is it?”

“Of course not,” Ivy immediately responded, shaking her head. “I just came to thank you. For as long as I’ve been Poison Ivy, the plants in Gotham have never been happier than in your presence.” Shocked silence came from the other Gothamites, but Marinette was only embarrassed. She had never been good at receiving compliments, even before Lila and most compliments turned into sneers and bullying. 

Marinette stammered as she tried to thank the woman, the heat in her cheeks only adding to her embarrassment. Her words failing, she took a deep breath and calmed herself until she could speak in full sentences. “It’s really no problem- I’m just happy to help.”

The café

seemed to hold it’s breath- or perhaps the people inside did. Either way, nothing moved until Ivy did, smiling. “What’s your name, Blue Bell?”

Blue Bell? She answered anyway, having practice ignoring nicknames (even if she didn’t mind the kind ones). “Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m here on a class trip. You’re Mademoiselle Isley and Mademoiselle Quinn, oui?”

The women nodded, sending smiles to the girl. “Aw, ain’t ya such a darlin’,” Harley cooed, lightly pushing past her girlfriend to pat the sweet teen on the head. “A right angel in Gotham, ya are. How long ya stayin’, Sunshine?” Harley slid into the booth as she asked. 

“A couple months. Hopefully longer, if my application is accepted.”

“Already looking for colleges?” Now Pamela was in the booth, sat beside Damian as she joined in the questioning. Marinette nodded, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee. “All the way in Gotham?”

“I want to experience fashion and culture outside of Paris,” Marinette started. “See what the rest of the world is like while I have the chance.” 

Every passing moment with Marinette caused not only the rogues, but the other Gothamites in earshot to start rooting for her. Alas, time marches on, and both groups had things to do. They split at the entrance, Marinette and Damian beginning their trek to find her class and the rogues going to… well, neither teen would ask. 

  .

.

.

Robin suppressed a sigh, eyes scanning the streets below his perch. “No helping it, Baby Bird,,” the infuriating voice of his eldest brother sounded. “It’s a slow night for everyone.”

“The third slow night in a row,” he shot back, leaping from the ledge he used as a perch. The wind tousled his hair as he swung through the night, boredom already settling in his bones. “Something’s brewing.”

“I’ll look into it,” Oracle’s voice pitched in. Silence followed (if you ignored his brothers’ incessant chattering -which Damian did). At least until Oracle spoke again. “Reported argument, three blocks from the museum. Possible escalation. Robin’s the closest.”

“I’ll check it out,” he said over his brothers’ complaints. 

Only a minute of swinging later, and Robin could hear the argument. If you could even call it an argument. A large, burly man stood yelling at a smaller, meeker-looking young man, an even smaller girl between them standing tall. With pigtails.

Wait.... Robin knew those pigtails- he saw them only hours ago! Why was she out of the hotel? In Gotham? At night?! Did she have a death wish?! His mask zoomed in, their voices sounding in his ear. The large man’s yelling practically boiled down to ‘He’s my boyfriend, and therefore my property’ in prettier, louder words. Robin rolled his eyes, having seen this kind of situation countless times before. Damian, though, watched the man and Marinette, worried for her safety.

The big man started spewing nonsense about the smaller ‘getting like this sometimes’ and ‘needing to take his meds, he gets confused’. The shaking man refuted everything said, repeatedly stating how he was done, trying to get away from the man who took everything from him. 

“You think those morons you call friends would take you in?! They abandoned you! You have nowhere else to go!”

“Anywhere’s better than here!” 

Marinette just stood, glaring down the man who was literally three times her size. But when he tried grabbing behind her, she moved. Before anyone could say or do anything, the man was out cold with a bleeding face, on his stomach as she tightened a couple zip ties around his wrists and ankles. 

Robin had to pause his thoughts and think back to register what happened. A knee to the groin. Hands on either side of his head, holding it in place as she kneed his nose hard enough to break. When he didn’t go down, she swept his legs from under him and kicked his temple.

Her voice was too soft for the microphone to pick up, but by the way the smaller man’s face slowly relaxed, she had to have been saying something. 

She didn’t spin to face Robin as he dropped, but did stop talking. Standing, she pulled out her phone. “May I help you?”

“I should be the one asking,” Robin stated, puzzled at the slight tensing of her shoulders. She turned, making a face at him once she did. “What?”

“You’re a traffic light,” she stated. “I prayed the images online were photo-shopped.” She sighed, shaking her head and tutting as the man behind her chuckled. Pulling a card from her purse, she pushed it into Robin’s hands, stepping on the zip tied man on the ground. “I will literally remake your entire group’s costumes for free if you send me the material. Heaven knows I can’t let the protectors of Gotham dress as clowns,” she muttered.

Robin crossed his arms with a scowl, narrowing his eyes. “Who says we-”

“Nope,” she interrupted, holding a hand up to silence him. “No way am I letting anyone- anyone- run around looking like-” she gestured to all of him, scrunching her nose in disgust “-like that. Doing so is an insult to fashion designers everywhere.”

Back and forth they went, until Robin paused and looked to the victim. 

Laughter. 

Marinette smiled as she turned around, gesturing between the two conscious men. “He agrees! You’re giving the gays and fashion icons nightmares, Robin. Nightmares.” 

The laughter flowing from Robin’s earpiece didn’t help the situation. 

Once the cop car (singular, without sirens as Marinette had asked in her call) rounded the corner, the three gave their statements and went on their ways. 

For the most part. 

Robin went with Marinette a ways, both of them stopping at the intersection. “You know how dangerous it is at night.” Once she nodded, he continued. “Why were you out?”

“Well, I had a feeling,” she shrugged, letting a hand land on her hip. “I was just going to the coffee shop down the block when they ran past me, like I told the officer.”

Neither spoke for a moment, standing in silence. “Be more careful next time.”

She smiled, starting to walk again. “Always.”

Taglist:

@goblinwhoships @mochegato

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 6

<- Chapter 5 | Chapter 7 ->

Summary:  First your mom’s a jerk. Then the Creature’s a jerk. You always try to be supportive and strong, because you know he was created in a lab 2 years ago and has never had any human contact except for physical beatings, but… You have your own emotional insecurities, too, and there’s only so much you can take.

The rooster crows, and you spring out of bed, rushing downstairs to do your chores with a vigor that alarmed, but pleased, your parents. Pulling on your coat in the frosty grey air, you hurry out to the barn before dawn breaks.

The dilapidated old structure looms like a ghost at the end of the pasture in the dark morning fog. The wooden door creaks as you push it open and slip inside. You discover the terrifying, ghoulish monster sleeping peacefully in the cow pen, curled up on the hay with Edelweiss and her newborn calf. A handful of barn cats have joined them, sharing the warmth.

A feeling builds up inside you like air filling a balloon, and escapes your mouth as a high-pitched squeal.

He jerks awake in an uncoordinated flailing of startled limbs, putting himself protectively between the calf and the noise. “S-sorry! You’re just so cute,” you gush, lowering your voice to a whisper. His eyes meet yours, the confusion leaves them, and he smiles.

As the previous night, he watches intently as you set about your chores. This time he asks you questions, and follows along with what you’re doing. You show him how to collect eggs, milk cows, distribute feed, and pull up water from the well—the latter he watches from a window, so he won’t be seen.

When finally you are done, you turn your attention to the creature. Your early start means there should be some extra time before you’ll be expected for breakfast, so you tend to his wound, and lay down in the hay with him. The animals graze peacefully outside in the purple-orange sunrise. He puts his arms around you, and you rest your head on his broad chest, watching them through the barn door, safe in the shadows.

“You are a gentle creature,” you yawn lazily, running your fingers through his hair, and tracing them over the uneven skin of his chest. For all he may look like a monster, he has the gentlest soul. But the comment makes his jaw clench, and shift uncomfortably.

“You don't know that,” he growls. “I am not. The power of death is in these hands.” He holds them out and turns them over. Each pale knuckle protrudes like the pommel of a dagger, attached to long, skeletal fingers. Like everything about him, they are macabre in appearance, but looking past that to the person they belong to, you can’t imagine them capable of any wrongdoing.

“No it's not—” you begin to protest, snatching his hands out of the air and clutching them to your chest. But then, you don’t really know anything about his past, and begin to wonder. “Have you...? Killed?”

He shakes his head, to your relief. “To take a life is to waste the most precious gift. But I have contemplated it, and I believe myself capable. Before we met, I was determined to wreak misery upon he who made me. Humanity hated and scorned me, and so I decided…” He trails off, breathing deeply. “I am certain, had you not found me, I would have committed unforgivable evils; such was the state I was in. I have already committed acts of destruction: I set fire to a cottage where my friends once lived. I destroyed out of spite that place where they abandoned me.”

“There’s no point worrying about what could have happened. You haven’t done anything wrong, that’s what matters. All you’ve done is... burn an empty cottage?” Wait, what? “I didn’t realize you had friends before. You always spoke as if you had been alone until now...” A dagger of jealousy pierces your heart. You push the feeling away, a pit of shame knotting your stomach—how dare you be upset you’re not his first and only friend?

His chest heaves a sharp laugh, but his eyes are sad. “I called them thus… In truth, I was their friend, but they were never mine” He tells you a story of how he took shelter in a low hovel attached to a cottage, from whence he could observe the lives of its occupants through the year, undetected. He learned to speak and read from watching them, and in return he secretly aided them however he could. They called him a good spirit, and he called them his protectors. The patriarch was a blind man, and after he had mastered speech, he sought to introduce himself when he was alone, that he might supplicate himself before him for aid, and earn his sympathy. “My plan nearly succeeded, but his family returned and drove me away. Despite all my efforts to help them, they could not stomach a ‘good spirit’ as hideous as I, and they fled in horror, never to return. Such is the fate of one wretched as I. In my life, only you have been able to tolerate me—I must assume by some anomaly in the shape of your skull which makes you immune to horror.”

His tale is just as sorrowful as you had expected, and you spent its telling squeezing and nuzzling him comfortingly. But there was one little thing that kept bothering you about it.

“Hang on—so you were spying on them for a whole year?! That’s kind of creepy, mon coeur.”

“What do you mean? I would be delighted to discover a secret friend had been watching over me this whole time.”

Your head hangs, shaking side to side. “Oh, my sweet innocent daemon.” You swivel around and squeeze both his cheeks between your hands. “Of course you would. All you’ve ever wanted is to not be alone. How could you understand what stalking means?”

“Stalking?”

“Most people find it disturbing—threatening—to be watched by a stranger without their knowledge. And for an entire year! They must have realized the mysterious spirit doing them favors was you the whole time! I’d have been creeped out too if that was how we met! They would have run away even if you were handsome as a prince!”

His face is a mask of confusion, frozen with mouth agape. After a moment of shocked silence, it falls in despair. “Then there is more than my appearance that drives my fellow-beings from me? I always believed, if not for my twisted form, I might be accepted—but there is more? My sensibilities, my utter ignorance of the simplest conventions of social existence will keep me from ever experiencing it!”

“Oh, no! Please don’t… I didn’t mean…!” Good job, you broke him. “That isn’t what I meant,” you plead, desperately stroking the side of his face, but his eyes are frozen in a faraway look, sinking under the weight of a new failure. “What I mean is, maybe it’s not as hopeless as you think! Maybe people aren’t afraid of you because of your immutable physical traits, but because of how you present yourself. And you can change that. I can teach you!”

His unfocused eyes refocus on you, silently curious about what you’re saying.

“So much of how we perceive others is based on presentation. Dress a man in rags and he will be suspected as a criminal, or in the finest silks and he is trusted as a gentleman, though he is the same man with the same soul.” You play with his hair, combing the tangles out of it with your fingers. “Perhaps if we can obtain clothing tailored to your size, if we can groom your hair to a gentlemanly fashion, and most importantly, find some way to introduce you which explains your odd figure… perhaps then, you would not arouse fear in those who see you.”

“Do you think so?” he asks, hopefully.

“We can try.”

He smiles, shaking off his melancholy. Two massive hands pull you firmly onto his lap. “You are all I want, anyway. I don’t care about anyone else.” His hand runs down the small of your back, and lower, teasing you. A heat rises in your core. Something in the way his eyes smile when they look at you… suddenly, you need him. You lean up to kiss him, pulling on his neck for support, and his lips lower to meet yours, merging with sudden fury. He pulls the back of your head toward him, deepening the kiss, while his other hand takes advantage of your hips lifting off his lap to slide between your thighs. He moans, muffled against your mouth. The sound of his arousal ignites your own, and you writhe your hips into the fingers exploring you there, directing them over your clothes to your heat. You could get lost in him.

Your mother’s shrill voice carries down to the barn, calling your name. The hens cluck a greeting, rushing to the fence to beg for food. She’s not just calling you in to breakfast, she’s coming to the barn!

You fall off him with a yelp, frantically righting your clothing and hair, while he scrambles to get out of sight, massive erection outlined clearly even through his thick cloak.

“What is taking you so long?” your mother scolds, charging into the barn. She’s in a foul mood, but at least is too wrapped up in her anger to notice anything amiss. She snatches up the milk pail by the door. “I’ve been waiting on this for breakfast!”

“Sorry. I got an early start so I could take my time this morning—it’s no later than user!”

“Don’t talk back to me, child,” she huffs. “I worried about you. I keep expecting you to disappear again.”

“Oh, mom…” you feel sorry for all you’ve put her through for a moment, but she doesn’t let you complete your thought.

“Do you know how this has been on me? Our family is the gossip of the town. But at least we had that nice service for you. How did you like the service?”

It wasn’t a real question. You open your mouth to answer, and she is already delivering a lengthy sermon on how lovely the hymns were, and how she had the best voice, because she wanted to be an opera singer when she was your age, you know.

“Anyway, I came to fetch you for breakfast, and after breakfast, I want you to go into town and apologize to that boy Ferdinand right away and get him to take you back.”

“What? I told you, I broke things off with him!”

“You can explain that the accident made you hysterical, and you weren’t thinking straight.”

“But I was thinking straight. I don’t love him!”

“You fool!” she raises her voice. “Can’t you see he’s your best prospect? Who else will have you? Do you want to grow old alone, a spinster?”

“Maybe I do!” You’ve had about enough of this. “There’s good money in textiles, and then I wouldn’t have to rely on anyone! You think I want to end up like you and dad?”

“HOW DARE YOU?” She slaps you across the face. It wasn’t a hard blow, but it stings like needles under your skin. An angry snarl emanates from where the creature is hiding. Your mother stands bolt upright. “What was that?”

“That was you hitting me,” you hiss between clenched teeth, playing dumb.

“Let us return to the house. Something unholy has fallen on this place.”

“No, I still have chores to finish.”

“Now! I will not leave my daughter alone to be preyed upon by a demonic spirit. Dear lord, what if the devil is following you? When you had your accident, you came too close to the gates of death, and now some devil has its claws in your soul… Come!”

“It was only a cow, you’re imagining things,” you plead, but she grabs you hard around the wrist and drags you back to the house.

*****

Something is wrong. You can tell the moment you enter the barn. After spending a long, miserable day under your mother’s supervision, you long for the comfort of your macabre companion’s arms, but he does not greet you at the door. It is silent. He could be asleep again, but it is not the warm, comfortable silence of rest. It is a cold feeling, as if something had sucked all sound from the air.

You climb up to the hay loft, a knot of dread rising in your stomach, and find him stewing in a shadowed corner facing the wall.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Who is Ferdinand?” he growls, not turning around.

The knot tightens.

He whips around and repeats his demand, this time a roar. “Who is Ferdinand?!” His eyes are dark. He may have been crying.

“The boy I was with when I tripped and fell in the river... the one who shot you.”

“And who is he to you, exactly?” He asks, attempting to seem indifferent to the answer, though his voice is strained and constricted in his throat.

“He was... we were courting. He comes from a wealthy family, and my parents pushed the match. Of course I ended all preludes the moment I awoke from the accident to learn what he had done to you. Then I went to find you.”

This explanation does nothing to satisfy him, or to relieve the tension in his shoulders and the heaving of his breath. He paces.

“You never told me.”

“I… I’m sorry; he’s in the past, it didn’t seem important…” But not even mentioning it was a deliberate oversight. It was to protect his feelings, you tell yourself. Or was it to protect yourself from your own shame? Girls in your town are taught to be faithful, to never rush between men. One must wait at least a year between suitors, to be proper. To do otherwise is to be called a whore. Not that you care about what is proper. Not that he ought to care.

“Did you lay with him?” he cringes. “And how many others before him?!”

“Th-that’s none of your business!”

“But you’re mine!” he roars. “I thought you were mine… I should have known you belonged to another!”

“I belong to nobody!” you cry indignantly, trying to convince yourself as much as him. The anger rising within you is overshadowed by a stronger feeling—guilt. You never lied exactly, but you omitted the truth to let him think you were better than you are. “I may have been with another in the past, but I chose to be with you now. Please...” Your appeal falls on unhearing ears as he continues to pace in a jerky, agitated manner.

“And you… you debase yourself with me! What madness would cause you to break with your own kind and seek companionship with a wretched fiend? You could be wife to a normal, handsome fellow-being, yet you debauch in the sordid embrace of monsters? You are a greater freak than I! Given the choice, I would take a normal life! You make an outcast of yourself willingly. What in the world could drive you to such self-destruction? I forbid it! Be not an adulteress to a corpse. Take my leave and rejoin your own!”

There are a million things you could tell him. You could shout at him for being cruel. For pushing you away again. You could calmly comfort him, explain to him why it’s all okay… Except you’re struggling to see how it can be okay. Your lip quivers. He’s right. A voice like a knife dipped in honey whispers in your ear, draining all your strength to fight back. You’re too much of a freak even for him. You’re an unfaithful whore jumping from man to man. Your knees go weak. You could never do the proper things a lady is supposed to do. You didn’t think he would notice? Everyone notices. Your mother is right—there’s a devil in you.

You turn to run, to escape the voice. Legs like lead, barn blurry with tears, you trip and stumble and feel your way to the ladder.

“Why are you crying?” he asks as you go, at first with cold curiosity, then softer, in a shaking voice. “Why are you crying?”

  *****

You run into the woods, to your secret place to think and get away. It’s not far from home—a place you’ve come since you were a child—but hidden from view behind a few large boulders, standing out on the otherwise flat forest floor as if dropped from the sky. They are covered with moss, set in a tiny clearing where an old tree blew down years ago, letting just enough light in for a soft circle of grass to grow.

You scramble between the rocks, falling to your knees on the snow still hiding, like you, in the solace of shadows. Tears fall down hot against your cheeks, but you shiver, skin clammy with goosebumps.

It doesn’t take him long to find you.

“No, oh no…” he gasps, “what have I done?” He kneels beside you, and wraps himself around your shaking form. “No, no, no... Please no, don't cry,” he begins to sob. “I am sorry... I am a fiend! A wicked, villainous fiend to hurt you... Forgive me, please forgive me, I am sorry…”

It feels good to cry with him, the way a funeral feels good. Miserable, yet not alone. But you should be alone. When he knows the truth, he won’t want to stay. He’ll leave you alone with your lies.

“You’re right. You’re right about everything,” you sniff. “I didn’t tell you so many things I should have, because… this magical creature wandered out of the woods and thought the world of me. I didn’t want you to know. I’m a freak. I’m rotten. A disappointment. And I'm poor. I'm just a poor farmer. You think I am sacrificing my social standing by affiliating with you, yet in truth, I have no such standing. No merit. I am nothing. Even among the poor farmers of this town, I have never been accepted. Ha—and I said I could help you fit in! Who am I to teach anyone about social etiquette? Ferdinand was my only prospect; that's why mother is so worried that if he won't have me, no one will. But I thought I could at least seem normal in your eyes… but even a monster can see I am worthless.”

He flinches when you call him a monster, but it is only a blip against the look of horror and sadness in his eyes as you speak of yourself that way. “No. No, please forget those jealous words I spoke,” he croaks, voice breaking. He’s clinging to you like a drowning man, his weight against you crushing, but warm. He rubs heat back into your arms. “They were spoken in a fit of madness—vitriolic raving, fueled by envy, deprived of all logic or reason. Do not forgive me: hate me and curse my being, but do not allow my reckless malice to tarnish your own estimation of your worth. Here I speak the truth: You are everything. You are all I could ever want, and more than I dare ever hope for. You are kind, and wonderful, and strong. You are perfect, and I do not deserve to bask in your radiance. Destroy my wretched life now, if it will undo the harm I have done, and I shall submit myself to your revenge.”

It’s too late. The voice isn’t satisfied, and you can only helplessly parrot what it whispers to you. “I’m not any of those things. If you only looked normal, you would fit in better than I ever could. I wish I could trade bodies with you, so that you could be happy, and I could be the one hiding in the wilderness all alone.”

“I COULD NEVER BE HAPPY LIKE THAT!” he shouts, holding your gaze with such intensity it snaps you out of your fog. “Not without you beside me! I will never be content while you are miserable.”

“But you held me in such high esteem. I let you believe you were getting more than you were—that I was a prize of high station, with powers to lift you up in society. Aren't you disappointed?”

“I never overestimated your position. Though I am kept apart from it, I am not so ignorant of human society as to be blind to your place in its cruel hierarchy.”

“But you always say things like, I’m an angel, I’m noble, the barn is heaven, our food is lavish...”

“Compared against my own experiences, these are true. I have nothing, not even humanity. My life has been spent in wilderness, and you have been gracious in sharing what little you have. You are the noblest being I have encountered, yet it is plain in your residence, dress, and occupation that you are you are of the lower class. And to seek me out, unafraid… I easily inferred you were unusual amongst your peers. Your mere willingness to tolerate me is proof.”

“Oh.” You shake your head, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

He takes your hand, kneeling in front of you. “Did you believe I would think less of you? How could one so wonderful as you ever put value on the opinion of a wretch such as I? Could it truly be that you feel wretched, too, at times?” His eyes widen with realization. “That is why my words hurt you. You have borne the pain of rejection; you share, to an extent, my feeling of isolation. From my vantage, you seem so grand, like the walls of a castle that I am merely the wind howling against. I could not imagine myself capable of damaging you.”

“Do you really think I don’t care? I am not a castle. I’m not above you, or your reprobations. You really hurt me this time...”

“I know,” he says, voice cracking with agonizing understanding. He is certain you are leaving him. “I know.”

You breathe out a long sigh. Brushing a strand of loose hair from his despairing face, you give a lopsided smile. “You know... You're cute when you're sad.”

“I am never cute,” he says, staring severely at the ground. “I am hideous.”

“Stop it, you're even cuter when you're self-pitying!”

He looks up from his stupor, and sees the teasing glimmer in your eyes. “You... are forgiving me?”

“Do you forgive me about Ferdinand? You don’t think I’m a harlot?”

“I don’t care about that anymore. It is far worse to see you in pain because of my foolish jealousy. You may bed a different man each night, and I will count myself fortunate to have you return home to me. Just return to me. I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

Your lips crash against his, catching him off balance. You pull him down into you, practically hanging on the back of his neck.

“Well,” you break the kiss, breathless, “I’m not going to abandon you. But I… hope this gets easier. I don’t want us to fight all the time. You lash out at me like you can’t trust me. But you're only two years old, I suppose, so tantrums must be expected; and you’ve never had anyone else to talk to.”

He buries you in his chest with a sob, protectively scooping you off the frozen ground. He feels so warm, with his cloak draped over you, rocking back and forth. Everything is okay now.

“I am so sorry. I swear to you, I will never hurt you again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you whisper. “Just keep getting better. We’ll both just keep getting better, together.”

His mess of hair nods against your cheek, still gripping you tight.

  *****

At length, you rise, finally ready to return. He takes off his wool cloak and wraps it around your shoulders. The storm between you is over.

You walk back to the barn to do the evening chores. Though it’s an unheated barn, it’s amazing how much warmer it feels compared to the chilling wind outside. The creature helps you with a few of the tasks you showed him earlier. He is slow and unsure, and must rest frequently for his shoulder, but he tries hard to be useful, pushing past the pain, as if helping with this will make up for everything earlier.

He sets a milk pail by the door, ready for you to bring back to the house for the dinner. His eyes linger over the spot balefully, where you had argued with your mother that morning.

“I should have protected you when you returned, after the way that woman struck you, I should have been there to lessen your strife…”

“You growled so loud, you nearly gave us away!” you laugh, throwing grains into the mule’s trough, eager to change the subject. “It’s a lucky thing father makes sport of dismissing mother’s fears as feeble-minded superstition.”

“How awful.”

“She’s awful.”

“But they are married. Do they not love each other, as my dear Felix and Safie?”

You snort at his naivete. “Marriage has nothing to do with love. It didn’t for my parents, and it wouldn’t if I had married Ferdinand.” You secure the lid back on the store of feed. “I have no money in my own name. The only way out of this farm is to wait until my parents die, or take a husband. That’s the choice all women here must make.”

“I never understood these laws of men, which seem contrived to force those under them to live in misery. One should not have to spend their life with another they do not love. It seems better to break with civilization entirely, if only it were not so bitterly lonely…”

“Well… I agree with you there. If it were possible, I’d run away into the forest and never look back. Except I would starve to death, or freeze. If I was like you… we could just disappear together.”

He smiles at you, wiping your hands off on your dress now that chores are finished, a strange look on his face. “I dreamed of that once. Having a companion who was like me, and spending our lives in the remote jungles of South America.”

“That sounds nice.”

You sit down with him against the barn wall. A small calico pads over and rubs her head against the both of you with a purr, before rushing off to hunt mice.

“It was my greatest hope… but then I met you. Now all of my dreams are of you. I would live anywhere, do anything, to be with you. I am so eager to devote my life to you… I am ashamed that I am equally eager to believe you would betray me…”

He’s never going to forgive himself for that. You sigh, and shake your head. “It's funny... Others look at you and see a monster. They run away or hurt you thinking you’ll attack them, or eat their skin, or steal the souls from their goats or something!” You laugh quietly. He stares at you a little horrified. When did you get so morbid? “What I mean is—If only they knew your most monstrous quality is a mundane, human thing like jealousy.”

He breathes out a single, silent laugh, and hangs his head.

“You know, thanks for saying you don’t care who else I’m with, but… The moment I laid eyes on you, it was over with Ferdinand. From that moment, you were all I could think about. You were all I wanted, even before we met.”

He picks his head up. “You really chose me? You could have had that handsome boy, but you chose me?” This time, his voice is full of wonder, not fear. A victorious smile plays at the corners of his mouth.

“I did.”

He takes your hand and holds it to his thin lips, each word a kiss against your knuckles. “It is incomprehensible that any rational being would make such a selection, but… it makes me unimaginably happy.”

[makoto-nanami]

Miraculous Rewrite: Origins Part 1 (Chapter 1)

Hi, this will be my first Miraculous fan fiction, while I love the show, I most definitely have my gripes with it, how they treat their characters is something that infuriates me, and while this fic may get salty sometimes, I do love the characters, it’s just because of the status quo that the writers are instant on maintaining, they can’t grow or act sometimes completely out of character. So I’ve decided to have a try at writing a fic with my own OC in, to act as the voice of reason when Marinette starts going overboard/borderline cringy or when Adrien is a innocent baby who doesn't understand the world or when he thinks it’s okay to have a tantrum or flirt with ladybug. I’ll be following the episodes, so they won’t be too different, just told from a different perspective. Again I apologise in later chapters if I seem too have ingested a ton of salt, but know if I salt on a character I plan to resolve it at the end of the episode. I hope you enjoy!

- Also, if anyone could suggest which tags this needs because I blanked when I tagged this... (-_-’)

Origins Part 1 - Chapter 1

Many millennia ago, concepts of life were born, however, these beings realised they had too much power, a power that could easily be abused. So, they gathered to a kind human who had chosen to live in isolation from the rest of his kind and protect the world when needed, a bestowed their blessings in hopes that the human would help them. The human was confused by the seemingly god-like beings’ request, how could they trust a lowly human such as himself, a coward who turned his back on the rest of the world after witnessing the corruption such power brought to his brethren? These gods simple smiled upon this man and said you are no hero, you are no villain, you are simply an observer, a helper, someone who despite his hate to the world, chose to protect it in its time of need.

So, the man heeded their call, creating magic jewels embedding them with extraordinary blessings from these gods, the Kwami, binding them to the jewels restricting their powers. These were… the Miraculous.

Throughout history, heroes have used these jewels for the good of humanity. However, The Creator of the Miraculous realised, that two of these jewels were more powerful than the other despite his efforts of balance; the earrings of the Ladybug, which provided creation; and the ring of the Black Cat, which granted the power of destruction. The Creator knew that whoever controlled both blessings would achieve absolute power, a power that the Kwami had feared would be manipulated with malicious intent. After realising his mistake, The Creator promised that no matter what, he would observe the Miraculous, personally in their times of use, as he could not stop humanities tragedy on his own; leaving the Jewels with his disciples allowing them to distribute when humanity cried out in suffering.

However, no one can live forever without a cost. Many have tried, all of them have failed with various degrees of success. Immortality is a fickle thing. Wishing for eternal youth, cursed to never grow, burying loved ones and always begging for an end to your torment. The Creator had witnessed this, one of his many mistakes, one he most definitely wanted to learn from. So, he wished to be reincarnated, to watch the miraculous in humanities time of need. Unfortunately, souls and memories of humans are just as fickle as the body. While he would reincarnate he would inherit the life his successor, cursed to watch as the loved ones drift away, fade and die, cursed to watch with red eyes.

But that’s just a silly story my mother would tell me as a child. She would tell me how maybe I could be the next reincarnation of this strange man; I’d laugh when she would tell me that. Then suddenly out of the blue; I started having strange thoughts, dreams of another time, voices of people crying out for help. My mother, Evangeline, a woman who raised me, a woman who while not connected to me in blood, still cared for me as if her own, one day told me this story again, this time… I did not laugh, I cried. I looked at my mother; realised… she had not aged a single day since the day I had met her all those years ago, she smiled and told me I was ready. She told me of her friend who trained to protect the Miraculous and how she housed and protected him in his early days after the temple was destroyed. She then explained how it was time for me to fulfil my promise to the world and how I would be going to Paris, France to work with her friend to protect the Miraculous.

Why though? It wasn’t my responsibility; I never made any promise to the world! All I wanted to be was slightly successful, hanging out with friends and working towards achieving my dreams as a P.I! I never wanted this! But as I was on the plane to Paris, I couldn’t deny it… I felt the pull of that man’s promise; I won’t give in though, no matter what I will not be that man! I will observe but I will not change myself, I will not become him, not while I still have my dreams of friendship and life.

Once in Paris, I find myself outside of a massage shop… this looks shady. Why the hell would Eva send me to a massage parlour? Well, I need to figure out what’s going on and figure out my living accommodations, so might as well bite the bullet on this shady place.

Knock-knock.

The door opened at the force of my knock; that’s some security for world-ending jewels. I make my way into the shop and spot an old man meditating… this is just getting weirder. As I’m about to announce myself, he speaks. “Welcome, Young Creator.” He opened his eyes, widening as he took in my appearance. “Well… this was not what I was suspecting at all.” Rude. “But worry not, come and I shall explain the gaps in your memory.”

“Excuse me, but I am not that man, obviously. I am my own person, while I intend on helping him fulfil his promise… I have no intention of becoming him.”

“But…”

“I’ll help you but know that I am not him.”

He stared at me considering my words before gesturing for me to sit down. I sit as he pours green tea into cups.

“I understand. Now allow me to introduce myself, I am Wang Fu, Evangeline has told me a lot about you.”

“Likewise. However, I am a little confused about the situation here in Paris. There is no media mention of any Miraculous holders, so obviously neither the Ladybug nor Black Cat is in circulation as the powers they hold are less than subtle when used, so why am I here?”

“I see, you are correct in your deduction of the state of the Miraculous’, however, you were drawn to Paris, correct? We believe that that pull indicates humanities potential ruin. As soon as you started to have visions of the past, Evangeline contacted me, I was already here in Paris so we decided it may be best to let you settle in and learn about your role and responsibilities hopefully before the path to ruin forms. Of course, due to your age as well, we have been forced to enrol you in a local school high school.”

I blanched at this, having already graduated from a high school for the gifted where it wasn’t considered strange for children to skip grades depending on their academic standing. Great… just freaking fantastic… Fu looks at me as if looking for my opinion, I simply sigh and shrug, excepting my fate, begrudgingly.

“So… Where exactly will I be living? I mean, not to be rude or anything, but this shop/apartment isn’t exactly big.”

“Yes, my home is only so big, and I already have a littler of picky roommates. Evangeline and I have decided to let you stay at her old home while she lived in Paris many years ago. She assured me that it would be to your tastes and it isn’t too far from your new school.”

Eva’s old home? I kinda worried now, she’s the sort of person who loves antiques and old dollies, sure she grew out of it when she adopted me but if this is her ‘old’ home… It’s not exactly a place I want to be, surrounded by creepy dolls and old stuff, at least I didn’t have to pay rent… wait…

“What about money? If I live alone, won’t I have to buy food and stuff?”

“Ah yes, Evangeline told me, that while she is more than happy to supply money for food and essentials, it will be sent to an account that will record what you buy, she stressed that I tell you that money is for essentials only.”

“Sounds like Eva… did she mention anything else?”

“Oh, she told me to give you this note when you asked about money.” He hands me a small note.

-       If you want games, junk, comics/books, anything not essential… GET A JOB!

-       Love you, Eva!

Yup… that’s definitely Eva. I laugh weakly, thinking who would hire a 13-year-old kid for more than a paper-round. Suddenly a flash of green whizzed around the room, I instinctively tensed ready to defend myself but quickly feeling foolish, seeing a green Turtle like creature.

“Wayzz…” I find myself muttering, having no idea of where the name came from… perhaps one of his memories.

“Master, Master! Master, the Moth Miraculous, I felt its aura!” Wait, what?

“I thought it had been lost forever!” He lost a Miraculous?! What?!

“But Master, it’s a negative aura. I fear it may have gotten into the hands of a dark power!” Oh just great!

“We must find Nooroo and his Miraculous. If it has gotten into the wrong hands, it means the path to ruin has formed and there’s no telling what evil will come to the world!” He stands raising his fist hand to the ceiling, a green turtle shell charm bracelet reviling itself. I find myself stammering.

“Hh-hey wait a sec- “

“Time to transform! Wayzz- Hack!” He doubles over in pain. If I wasn’t so confused, I’d find this almost comical… almost. Wayzz floats over to him almost exasperated.

“Please Master. Be reasonable. You are- “

“Still young! I’m only 186.” Only?! Then again, I just found out the woman who raised me is an immortal child, so what do I know. “But you’re right, Wayzz. Young One, I can no longer do it alone, it is time… We’ll need some help.” He walks over to the gramophone and revealing a box with symbols I somehow knew all too well, a box that housed the most powerful jewels in the world, the Miraculous.

As we roam the streets of Paris, I notice a school. Other kids making their way inside, chatting about their summer vacation. I feel myself dread at the idea of enrolling during the second year, everyone already knows each other, it’s gonna feel weird, dammit. We get to a crossing and I see a short navy haired girl rush out of the bakery across the street with a box in her hands, as I am about to dismiss her from my thoughts, Fu started to walk forward acting frail and old despite the light still being red for pedestrians. “Hey, wait!”

“Uuuhhaawh?!” The girl rushed out and grabs him by the hand, taking him to the other side of the street, dropping the box in the process. The light changes and I rush over, noticing people stepping on the baked goods that fell out the box.

“Thank you, miss. Oh! What a disaster.” Yeah, I wonder who’s fault that is, old man. I pick the box up and hand her it back.

“Sorry about your macarons, he just walked into the road suddenly.”

“Don’t worry, I’m no stranger to disasters, besides, there are still a few left. Would you like one?” She said kindly, offering the box to pick one out. Fu reached out and took one before eating it.

“Mmmh. Delicious! Do you attend Françoise Dupont? My friend’s child here is enrolling today for the second-year class.” Wait, what’s he doing?

“Oh really? Welcome to Dupont then! Do you know which class you’ll be in?”

“Erm, I believe Miss Bustier’s class?”

“Same here! Would you like me to show you the way?”

“Oh no, there’s no nee- “

“Oh thank you, it’s reassuring that this little one will have such a friendly face in class.” What the hell old man!? As if reading my thoughts, he looked at me innocently. “After all, it’s normal for a child to attend the first day of school, right?” Ack… he goddamned planned this! I don’t know how but he definitely planned this! Aren’t I supposed to help you find the holders for the Miraculous, Fu? Again, he simply smiles as he looks at me. “I’ll inform you of my progress when school finishes.”

“Oh no, we’re gonna be late! Ah, have a nice day, sir! Come on!” She cries as she pulls me along. “Oh, how rude! I don’t think I’ve asked your name!”

“My name? Oh, it’s Alice.”

“Alice, eh? Nice to meet you, and I must say, what lovely red eyes you have!”

[ghostmeep]

are you going to make a post on why you think sonic isn't to blame for letting metal go? i'm curious on your thoughts on it

Ah, I’m guessing you are referring to my little side note I made in my Sonic feels guilt post 

Well, tbh that sentence was less of a ‘I’ve got a lot of important things to say about this matter’ and more of a ‘I’m trying to not get off topic’ - but I’m up for expanding my thoughts on it. Don’t expect ground breaking points tho haha

Disclaimer, this is way less fact driven than my other post about Sonic feeling guilty in the Zombot arc. It’s more speculation with not as much direct support from canon. But if you are cool with that, read on

Anyways, so to first clarify what I want to try and express in this post:

I do think that the current arc is a direct result of Sonic’s actions and I’m not trying to disprove that Sonic is to blame here. He is to blame when all is said and done, but it isn’t like he single-handedly caused the Zombots to spread? I just think people are shitting on Sonic just a bitttt too much 

But, I do think that Sonic’s actions were in character enough to forgive. A bit of a stretch here and there, but enough to let it pass imo

———–

I’m going to first talk about Sonic letting Eggman free even though you only asked about Metal because the two kind of goes hand in hand.

And here I ask everyone to let go of their beyond the fourth wall knowledge. Forget about how you know the franchise as Eggman and Metal Sonic are antagonist and there is no way Sega would change them.

Try thinking about it from Sonic’s perspective and think of Eggman as a real person - meaning someone who can change and grow, because all people can - I’m not saying all people do, but it is possible

.

So we look at Eggman’s situation. At first Sonic was super suspicious and wasn’t willing to trust Eggman and thought it was an act.

But the more time he was with Mr. Tinker the more he had to accept that Eggman really did have memory loss - and guess what? He was right about that part at least. 

In that moment of time, Eggman was truly different and didn’t remember any of his past doings.

In that situation, wouldn’t it have been a little harsh to imprison him? Or kill him? I dunno, if Eggman never remembered and could live the rest of his life peacefully as Mr. Tinker, wouldn’t it be okay to let him? – Forget about what we know happened later on and just think about it from that situation in time. 

If Sonic just threw Eggman to prison at this point, I feel like that would have been more out of character for him. More harsh than I would have expected him to be. Because, for all his cool guy attitude, Sonic is a nice, caring guy. 

And it wasn’t like Sonic was the only one who wanted to give this chance to Mr. Tinker. Shadow was the only one he had to really convince.

Everyone else was on-board more or less?

They all deferred to Sonic’s decision, but if they had a problem with it they would have spoken up. Or tried to persuade Sonic against letting Mr. Tinker free. It’s because they agreed, at least on some level, that they just went with what Sonic decided to do. Espio took some convincing, but again, not all that much. Barley any at all. 

And then the town mayor put in his two cents - so everyone pretty much came to a mutual agreement, no? it’s a bit much to say it’s all on Sonic for letting Eggman stay as Mr. Tinker

( That is to say, I’m not saying that it was wrong of the characters to blame Sonic. The characters did trust Sonic to make the right decision, so when it proved to be the wrong one, and with all that is going on and everyone running on emotion, it makes sense they would turn on Sonic. Because Sonic did have the final say, and as the ‘hero’ who everyone looked to for guidance he did let everyone down in that sense. It was his responsibility to bear. Fair or not. ) Us as readers shitting on Sonic though is a bit different. We can absolutely say it was a stupid decision and I’m sure all of us called it that Eggman would return, but in universe, there is enough to support Sonic’s decision. So I wouldn’t call this Sonic grabbing the idiot ball, since it does adhere to parts of Sonic’s personality as we know it. 

Anyways, back to the Mayor being up for letting Eggman stay. We can see that Sonic still has some doubts and is unsure what to do at this point. 

He’s still thinking about it, and while it’s likely he would have reached the conclusion of letting Eggman stay anyways, there is something that pushes him to make that decision. That cements in his mind that Eggman is gone for good.

Because when the Badniks invade the town and Sonic rushes to confront Eggman he sees –

Eggman trying to protect the children

This is the moment that convinces Sonic the most, I think. Because when the going gets tough is when people’s true colours start to emerge. And Mr. Tinker did what he can to protect the children, despite being scared. There is no way Sonic can throw him to rot in a cell after that

I also want to point out that even Rouge, who doesn’t have the hero persona like Sonic does, even she thought it would be for the best to let Eggman free as Mr. Tinker? Why else would she even bother giving a tip to the Chaotix knowing that Sonic would likely come to this decision?

And it isn’t like Sonic just made the decision to let Eggman roam free and washed his hands of the matter. We see his doubts when Eggman Land is mentioned and he says himself how he’ll definitely be stopping by

So Sonic is aware of the dangers, and he is also planning to stop by and check up on Eggman himself. Sounds kinda fair to me. 

So hopefully it’s clearer from this that letting Eggman free isn’t really the most unbelievable thing to do, it made enough sense for people other than Sonic to be on board of it at least.

And Sonic even managed to convince Shadow. Yeah, Sonic is dumb stubborn so trying to change his mind would have been difficult, but the same goes for Shadow, right? But Sonic managed because what he said made sense at the time. There is logical thought to letting Eggman free and that is why he was able to convince everyone.

Of course, now everyone regrets it because it led to this disaster, but point still stands that at the time it didn’t seem like a bad idea. 

I’ve got no good counter for why Sonic and co. didn’t leave someone to look after Eggman just in case tho. 

The best I can think of is because to them, Eggman was the ‘big bad’. After all, how many disasters didn’t start because of Eggman in some way? Not really any. 

So since they deemed Eggman was a non-threat maybe they just assumed it would be safe to leave him here? Because without Eggman, who would they have to worry about? Any new villain that would pop up would be a threat to the world sure, but no threat in having Eggman restore his memories. It’s hard to imagine a situation where a new villain takes the time to help Eggman regain his old self in-between destroying the world…

Because, let’s be honest, I don’t think anyone would have ever thought that there was an Eggman fanboy on the loose. 

So they likely deemed that there was no need for a bodyguard when they thought there was nothing to guard from. 

.

Now for Metal Sonic.

Okay, so this is a little harder to defend because, well, oof Sonic you really dropped the ball here. But I can still say it’s kinda in-character?? It’s pushing it, but I don’t think it’s so out of nowhere to the point where I think Sonic’s characterization was ruined from this moment.

After all, we’ve seen Sonic show compassion to previous enemies, right? He’s pretty much known for making friends out of enemies, honestly.

So Sonic’s forgiveness definitely doesn’t come from nowhere, at least. We’ve seen Sonic’s willingness to give people multiple chances before

Seriously, which of Sonics friends didn’t start out as the antagonist? 

We have Knuckles, Shadow, Silver, Blaze, all who I won’t talk about much since I’m assuming everyone knows their stories.

But we also have other games showing Sonic’s forgiving side. 

In Sonic and the Black Knight, we saw Merlina pulling Sonic from his own world, just to trick him, and then attempt to make her world never changing (thus killing innocent souls). And at the end, all Sonic did was give her a flower and tell her to live life to the fullest in the time we have. 

And yes, you can make the argument that the people who Sonic forgave weren’t inherently bad people, just people led astray, but that’s also the point? Sonic believes that everyone has good in them – that no one is inherently all bad – even Eggman and Metal Sonic. 

You can make the argument that Metal is programmed to be evil by Eggman, but hey, weren’t Gamma and Emerl too? And yet they turned out good. 

So we do have proof that Eggman’s sentient robots are capable of changing sides. And with Eggman out of the picture and not able to influence Metal negatively, Sonic probably saw this as the perfect chance to let Metal find the good in himself. 

And yes, Metal is at a bit of a disadvantage because he is programmed to be forever loyal to Eggman, but 1) Eggman is no more as far as Sonic is concerned. So that ‘loyalty’ is a moot point. Because Metal is basically loyal to a person who doesn’t exist anymore. 2) just because you are loyal to someone doesn’t mean you can’t come to disagree with their actions. 

Metal can still learn about what is good or not even if he is programmed to be loyal to Eggman. And I think that is what Sonic was going for.

Look at Metal Sonic’s situation

They let him go, but it’s clear that he wouldn’t have been any danger to anyone. It doesn’t seem like he was fixed enough to even get close to Sonic’s speed like he normally could, and he had all his weapons removed by Tails. 

So the only one who could have made him dangerous again would be Tails (which wasn’t going to happen) and Eggman (who, as far as Sonic knows, is still Mr. Tinker)

Metal Sonic really wasn’t a danger to anyone.

Yeah, Sonic could have at the very least done a quick check on Eggman to make sure that everything was fine and he was still Mr. Tinker, but Sonic just left Eggman - what, a day or so ago? What are the odds that something happened in just that amount of time? And what are the odds that the village looked for Sonic for help at the moment he was at Angel Island?

And again, to Sonic, Eggman was the ‘big bad.’ With him gone, Sonic probably got lulled to a false sense of security. 

So it makes sense to me that Sonic is willing to give these risky second chances because he is pretty confident that Eggman, and thus evil geniuses that could rebuild Metal, are not a problem anymore.

So, Metal is not dangerous, and as far as Sonic knows, won’t be able to become dangerous. The world is rebuilding itself and it seems like they’ve finally come at peace. 

It’s the ideal situation for Metal to change. Because remember, it is possible for Eggman’s robots to be good. 

So from that line of thinking, letting Metal go isn’t all thattttt bad? Hindsight is 20/20 so it’s easy to say Sonic was wrong to letting Metal go, but at the time Sonic had at least some reason to risk it.

Sure, Sonic could have taken a bit more precaution, like maybe follow Metal to keep an eye on him, but being Mr. Free-As-The-Wind, he probably thought letting Metal go to do his own searching would eventually lead to triggering a good change – and it would all end well. After all, it is unlikely that Metal would change in the presence of people he deems as ‘enemies’ – so Sonic was likely hoping Metal would run into a more neutral party who would nudge him in the right direction. 

Also, with Sonic running around as much as he does, he probably figured that he would run into Metal sooner or later and be able to check on his progress. 

Too bad Metal tracked down Eggman instead. 

So yeah, still rather stupid – and careless, but I can see some reasoning behind it. 

It’s not too hard to imagine Sonic being over-eager to have all the danger behind him, and he wanted to wrap things up in a nice neat bow asap, so he rushed things too much. 

He seemed really ready to get to the whole ‘relax with no worries’ stage at least. 

So Sonic jumped the gun. Not exactly hard to accept for the fastest thing alive. 

I’m going to add this point in too — but let’s not forget that this takes place after Sonic Forces. Even without the English version’s unnecessary add-in of saying Sonic was tortured for six months, Sonic was still at the very least held in captivity for six months. And then immediately had to go and take up the mantle of being people’s hope ( in Tails’s words ) and win a war for everyone that has been going on for far too long. I don’t think you can really blame a guy for wanting peace so badly after all that. 

.

And just going to insert one more point about whether Zombot arc is all Sonic’s fault or not that people are going to hate me making, but Imma do it anyways. This isn’t my main argument, at all, but I just want to include it anyways. 

Because if you want to be super super technical. If you will allow me to be nit picky here…

It’s not really his fault. 

Yeah, he let Eggman free, and thus he was easy to kidnap. Yes he let Metal free, and thus was able to help Eggman recover his memory. Yes and yes.

But, my girl Tangle made valid points too. 

And I get it. This is kinda a dumb argument, because the point is is that Sonic should have taken measures to prevent Starline from being able to restore Eggman and Sonic should have prevented Metal from even being able to reach Eggman to get re-weaponized. Yes. But still. 

Are we really going to hate the fact that our Hero character tried to make the best out of a situation? Sonic wanted the best possible outcome to come true (For Eggman and Metal to find purpose in life that was good) and when he saw an opportunity for it to happen, just within his reach, he took it.

Yes it was reckless. Yes it was stupid and idealistic. Yes, it was naive, but Sonic, with all his good heart, just wanted a happy ending for everyone. 

It just sucks that there are people like Starline and Eggman who chooses to be bad, even when given the opportunity to be otherwise. But bad people existing, who choose to bring chaos and destruction, isn’t Sonic’s fault. 

Because Sonic is responsible for his actions, yes. But Starline, Eggman, and Metal are responsible for their own actions too. 

.

Well, I guess I already made my points that I wanted, but because this post is obviously not long enough, I’m going to keep going. (I just can’t stop once I’ve started, so bear with me as I go on semi-tangents from the original question) 

I’ve seen some people say how if Sonic didn’t let Metal Sonic go Eggman wouldn’t have remembered his old self — but we don’t know that???????

Sure, Metal Sonic was the last straw that allowed Eggman to remember – but it’s not guaranteed that Eggman wouldn’t have remembered without Metal.

It’s obvious that Starline wouldn’t have given up on Eggman, at least. Who knows what measures Starline would have taken to get Eggman back to all his glory. And well, he was making progress in restoring Eggman. Super slow progress, but progress nevertheless.

And this point I’m about to make is a bit of a stretch, but I want to make it anyways because I think it’s interesting to think about 

But look at what the badnik makes with the bush? It’s pretty much Sonic’s head. And, while sure it doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but it could also mean that Eggman’s subconscious is at least starting to get hung up on Sonic again? Because out of all the things the badnik could have made, it’s Sonic’s head.

And we saw when the town’s doctor tried to see if Eggman really lost his memory, we see him using a blob that looks awfully familiar

Again, it doesn’t really prove my point in any way, but I just found it a kinda cool connection. Because we’re shown that a hint that Eggman is returning evil again is showing signs about his obsession with Sonic, and that obsession is peaking in here, if ever so slightly. 

So we could say that it was only a matter of time for Eggman to return to his old self, and the trigger could have been anything if not Metal. It probably wouldn’t have happened as quick, but it likely would have happened eventually.

One more thing I want to about Sonic’s decision to let Metal go. – I don’t think Sonic made that decision behind anyone’s back. 

I’m not going to go into the whole ‘no one disagreed with Sonic’s decision so it’s not like Sonic is the only one at fault’ point I made with Eggman here, because it doesn’t hold the same truth to it for this. Because I do think in this instance letting Metal go was 100% Sonic’s decision, and 100% Sonic’s responsibility to shoulder, but saying Sonic did this behind everyone’s back is a bit much.

When he meets with Knuckles again, Knuckles says how Metal is trashed

At this point I think I’m the only one who thought this, but I took Kunckles’s words as ‘Metal is in trash condition and not a threat’ not a ‘Metal is in the trash and offline’ 

Because otherwise it seems a bit weird for that line to be included but have no reaction from Sonic? Not even a side eyed glance of guilt or a sweatdrop or a small ellipsis bubble from Sonic indicating his silence on the topic under Knuckles’s first speech bubble. Absolutely nothing is given. 

And I guess I wouldn’t put it past Sonic to omit details from his friends if he thinks it’s for the best, but it is just strange how we didn’t get any indication of Sonic choosing to omit details here when it very easily could have been shown.

Then when Silver and Sonic faced Metal, there is no surprise from Silver. No indication that Silver wasn’t already aware that Metal was out there somewhere.

And I doubt that absolutely no one thought ‘huh where did Metal’s body end up’ If everyone wasn’t aware about Sonic’s plans. It seems like it would have been an odd thing to overlook, since Metal is known to be resilient. You would think someone would have wondered what happened to it if they were being kept in the dark. 

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And my very last point in all this huge mass of words – the biggest reason I am okay with Sonic letting Eggman roam free without supervision and Sonic letting Metal Sonic go, is because Sonic is showing signs of learning from his mistakes

(yes, I’m reusing the same screencap in the same post shh) 

Sonic says how believing that everyone has good in them came to bite him in the end and he regrets it

It’s why I can’t really get mad at Sonic chasing that idealistic happy ending for everyone. Because in order for someone to be less naive, they need to face reality first. And oh boy, has Sonic been facing really harsh reality one after another since this arc began. 

Now, it’s too early to tell if IDW will let this lesson stick, but here’s hoping. The fact that Sonic has been so hung up about his mistakes makes it seem like he’ll learn from this whole thing.

And isn’t that nice to have? A character making mistakes and then learning from it. I feel like it’s so rare to have that I’m willing to forgive idiotic decisions if it leads to character growth and the promise of this similar situation not happening again. All IDW needs to do is not brush everything that has happened and Sonic’s guilt under a rug to be forgotten and things will be fine. 

I’m not saying I want Sonic to never give second chances ever again, but showing a bit of hesitance next time would be cool. And definitely never showing Eggman and Metal such leniency after all this. 

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And with this being my second post supporting Sonic’s actions now, I just want to clarify that it’s not like I think this arc is without flaws. I’m not trying to hype up this comic to be this amazing and perfect thing. There are a lot of issues I have with this arc, and the fact that at least half of my points I made in this post was from speculation means that there were too many holes in the storytelling. 

But, while I do see plenty of flaws with the comic, I just don’t think it fun to constantly negatively criticize something I’m reading. If I’m reading something it’s because I’m enjoying doing so, so I don’t want to be bogged down by focusing on all the holes in it. I’ll just recognize the flaws for what it is, maybe come up with a theory or two to make things easier to swallow, and move on. It’s how I enjoy reading, but I know it’s not how everyone likes to go about things and that’s fine too. 

[speedybooksandcreativeheaven]

The Temptations of My Family

Part 2

Story Summary: Sometimes all connections soon break eventually. Harold Anderson the CEO of Anderson Toy Factory had a secret, he sold his own soul to study and perfect demon magic. It soon took all of his free time studying the effects of the magic leaving their son, David to grow up without a father figure. When David was a small boy he was shocked when he found his father badly beaten due to the demon magic. Since that moment, he made a vow that demon magic would never touch him or his family. Fuelled by rage, David makes sure to protect his daughters from his wrath, as he claims that bad things happen with magic. Sadly, he can't control everything as he kicked out his first born, Kayla due to spending time with their grandfather learning demon magic. Soon enough Kayla becomes head of the household as she is left with five attractive incubi to take care of and her innocent sister, Mika.

Word Count: 2,955

Trigger Warning: Small sibling fights and family troubles with David and Kayla

AN: Italics are flash backs

The next day the girls, especially Mika never thought that she see the Anderson Toy Factory all decked out for this private party that father invited them too. She wore a simple yet elegant blue and black dress that was fitted to show off her femininity. Her shoes matched her outfit as her heels clicked on the marble floor as she looked up to notice the fancy black and white decorations perfectly centred around the room. Her sister, Kayla wore some simple black slacks with a fancy white blouse that showed off some tasteful cleavage. The incubi wore their fancy suits that they used for when they played their servants. They were behind the girls as they gaze around the room to hear some live classical music flow through the room. Sam scoffed as they entered the lobby of the company to notice the beautiful white marble echo as they walked across it. He made sure to stand behind Kayla so that if anything would happen to her he would be able to pull her behind him. Her flowing brown hair was tied into a beautiful French braid as Erik was getting into hair and wanted to do the ‘princess’ hair.

They all manage to make their way towards the ballroom which was where the party was being held. As they enter, their ears picked up beautiful layers of violins, cellos, and pianos surrounded the group which created a romantic feeling in the large space. As they waited to be seated, Kayla was swaying to the tones as she thought that no one was watching her, but Sam smirked while blushing seeing her hips slowly move to the sounds. He had to control the urge to take her right then and there as James noticed and smacked him upside the head. James golden glow was enough for Sam to scowl but before he was going to say a remark he was stopped when many uptight, old businessmen, and women stopped to look at the group entering the prestige space. They looked like a deer in the headlights as Mika pulls them along so that they don’t cause a seen. As they were moving, they heard a loud shout as the girls turned and their faces paled as they were met with an angry David. His intimidating gaze while clapping his large hands was enough for Kayla to die right there. When he spoke, they could all hear the disapproving tone that left his lips.

David quickly grabs Mika’s left arm to drag her off to talk with the businessmen in the corner while muttering a quick, “You’re late!” He yelled at me while he sighed at Mika, “Come with me. At least you are both here now.”

“Kayla!” he barks, “Go drop off your servants! God! Do I have to do everything!” he rolled his eyes as the small girl as she grunted in response while Mika shrugged her shoulders while she was swept off her feet by our father.

Following the direct order, she turned to the boys as she quickly walked them towards the party staff at the back of the ballroom as she was muttering a quick, ‘I’m sorry’ towards them as she pushes them inside. She then turned on her heel back to the commotion while the boys stood still as hot plates of food and people racing around them. They all look to each other as they were unsure what to do. After some time and direction from the staff, James clapped his hands to get his brothers attention as they started to help prepare for the party. He heard Sam scoff under his breath as he was placing small pieces of cheese on a metal platter. James chuckled to himself at his brother’s temper as he pours out a very expensive red and white wines in little wine glasses. He looks at the label as he puts in a mental note to pick up some for himself and Kayla. He found the girls very interesting creatures as he always loved to study the human emotions. Since coming to the human world, Kayla has been a great help with teaching them about human customs. Demon culture and human culture are completely different as Kayla would have group lessons that would teach them in more detail. She was very knowledgeable as James couldn’t help but stare at her as she would be in her lecture mode. He couldn’t lie as he wanted the girl for himself. Her intelligence, beauty and the ability to manage his brothers.

As Sam was scrabbling to hurry up his mind couldn’t wonder towards her. She has been kind to him and his brothers with letting them stay. She was always there to help his brothers, as much as he didn’t want her help. He would always push her away from him as he viewed himself as a monster, someone who couldn’t be loved. She was able to deal with his mood swings when she was teaching the younger incubi and himself how to read and write. He sighs at the memory when she would drag him around despite his protests, when he got paired with her to do chores inside and outside the home. Sometimes he glances as her soft hand as it would hit his large rough one when they were walking. She would blush due to the contact and turn away playing with her hair as he would smirk at her form. The more Sam and his brothers were living with the girls the more his emotions would get in his way of Kayla. Sam takes a long glance at James as he was the spitting image of a gentlemen. He didn’t mind showing his affections for her which pissed him off. Whenever she was in pain, boom, he was right there to comfort her with encouraging words and long hugs. He was smitten with her, but he knew that James wanted her too. He glared at his older brother as he noticed his staring and gave a rougher glare back. This means war! He thought as they both nodded in agreement with no words left to say.

He was broken out of his thoughts when he heard the said brother yelling at him to also grab a plate of expensive wine to carry out for the rich asses. He sighed as he put on his best fake servant smile and pushed open the doors to await the crowd. Soon enough, Kayla saw the incubi come out of the back with large serving plates that are carrying full of exotic wines, and fancy cheeses. She breathed out a simple mouthed thank you while James noticed and winked at her causing Sam to growl under his breath while she simply blushed in return.

Mika was taken away from all of the action with the boys as she hoped that Kayla would be able to handle their roommates. Before she could udder a single sentence she was shaking hands with the Vice President of the company. She quickly brushed off those thoughts as she held a firm grip with the man. She could feel her fathers pride boast around them. The Vice President, Randy, was an older gentleman with black short hair and green eyes. He knew their grandfather personally as Harold would talk about his son and granddaughters often enough.  He then turned to see David, with a stern smile on his face as he nodded his head back.

“Nice to see you again, David, Mika.” He greets the two as he glances around the room to hopefully see the other granddaughter but to no avail.

“Where’s Kayla?” he questioned David as his forest eyes quickly scan to see her in the corner, ‘Pitiful’ he cursed under his breath.

“Oh, she couldn’t make it.” He quickly lied as Mika was about to say something he jabbed her with his elbow when no one was paying attention.    

Before Randy could continue the conversation an older woman approached the group as she smiled towards Mika in amazement.

“Oh wow! I can’t believe its really you!” she beamed as Mika stood unsure about her intentions, “Isn’t it true that you are the youngest women to take over as an official CEO for Anderson Toys?”

“Well, I-I” She was stunned as she really wanted to save the company. She wanted to explore her life, not have someone run it for her. Everything in her body was trying to tell her to say ‘Yes’ but she wasn’t moving.  

“What’s going to happen to the company since your grandfathers passing?” Mika scoffed under her breath at the grandfather mention, he was only Harold to her.

Soon enough Mika was being picked and prodded at with so many questions that she started to become uneasy as she was stumbling on her answers.

“What kinds of new polices are you going to imply to help start off the year?”

“Do you have any college plans?” They pester her as she glances for anyone to get her out of this situation.

Another question was shot before she had time to answer the first. Great.  She looked extremely worried that her father was going to see her mess this up. Soon enough she was broken from her mind when their fathers deep low voice was ringing in her ear.

“Dear, they asked you a question.”

“Oh, right. Sorry about that.” She sighed as she mouthed, ‘I’m sorry father.’ She took a deep breath before continued.

On the other end of the room we see Kayla leaning against the wall as she was playing with her outfit while becoming upset viewing the action from afar. She stole some of the wine from James’s and Sam’s plates despite their protests as she drank freely. She scoffed as her father lied that she wasn’t even here! Randy was one of grandfather’s longest friends and he knew the girls well. They connected eyes as she saw that he straight up lied! She was fuming with rage, and what really got her is that her poor sister had to play along! She was stumbling and fumbling on her words as she had to sit there and watch! She tore her gaze away from the small group as she had enough! The rest of the boys noticed her feelings as the night went on. Matthew and especially Damien made sure to let James know since he was the eldest, he would know what to do. Later in the evening, Mika was free from her fathers grasp as she went to find Kayla. She was worried when she saw her walk away from the wall. She looked all over until she saw broken glass on the ground that was leading outside. Her eyes picked up as she just stands there with her mouth open.

“Yo! Close your mouth, you’ll catch files.” Sam spoke as he used his white gloved hand to close her gaping mouth. James sighed as he approached the two.

“Sam,” he said sternly as he turned his head to see the broken glass. Before Mika could ask James answered for her, “Yes, she has been drinking.” He closes his eyes in shame as Sam started to walk over towards the couple when he pipped up, “Of course she had to drink! Do you see the way your father treats her! He lied to that man that she wasn’t even here, and you played along!” he pointed an accusing finger towards her as his harsh glare intimidated her.  

Mika just stood there, in fear of the man but she sighed as she knew that Sam was right, “Look, I’m sorry. I had to play along. Kayla and father never got along ever since Harold’s death.” She sighed as she played with her black hair, “Father wants me to save the company and with Kayla running it, father said that she will ruin the plans!”

Sam and James looked to each other with raised eyebrows at the words ‘Save the company’ as they knew the truth. He could tell that Sam was really pissed at Mika as he was about to tear her a new one, but James held onto his rage as he nodded towards Sam to go calm down as he gripped the tablecloth a bit too tight.

He nodded back at his brother as he walked away leaving the two of them alone. James took a deep breath as he glanced through the patio and then back to her.

“Mika, you can still apologize to her. Tell her what you really feel.” He picked up his and Sam’s trays as he left.

Mika sighs as she takes a step outside to overlook the scenery. The night sky casts down on the lake water, showing its calm and steady motions. The cool breeze relaxes her as it creates a beautiful melody in the air as she covers her arms around herself as she shivered due to the sudden shift in temperature. She walks towards the dock where she notices more broken glass that leads down creating a path of mistakes. She lets out a hopeful sigh when she sees her drunk stumbling sister pacing at the end of the dock, muttering to herself as she didn’t notice the black sparks of magic coming out of her hands. The figure slowly turned around to see Mika as she snarled as she came closer concerned for her well-being.

“Kayla!?” she panicked, “Are you drunk?”

“No! Mika, god!” Kayla yelled as she giggled, “I need to have something to drink while I watch you fail in there! There was only wine, so I took it!”

“That was the wine that father bought for the toast!” she looked at her sister with worry.

Kayla brushed it off as she stumbled closer, “Well, if he wants it back, tell him to drink my piss!” she started to laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Mika sighed, she needed to get her sober before father find out, grabbing her hand she starts to move towards the building.

“Come on you! We need to get you sober before father comes looking for us or even worse Randy.”

At the mention on his name, Kayla stood her ground as her eye twitched in annoyance. Mika quickly turned around to see her eyes slant down towards the ground.  

“If you would have not kept your mouth shut, then he’d still- he’d still be here! This is all your fault!” Kayla grunts at her

“Who are you taking about? How, is this my fault?” she responded angerly at the crazed accusation.

“I’m taking about Harold you idiot! You stood there and went along with David’s plan! Randy was looking for me, you asshole! You went along with the lie and I could have helped you!” she sneers as she pushes her shoulder as she storms away into the night as her magic is getting harder to hide. Mika stumbles as she catches up towards her sister.

“Can’t you see! Father has you wrapped around his finger!? He wants you to believe his lies, so that you can fix his problem with his father using demon magic! This has nothing to do with you taking over! They are all lies, by the way! He made sure that I was disowned from the family. Right after he threw out all of my magic shit! That is why a year ago I was living under Harold’s care! You are so stupid to believe anything he says! I was tossed aside from the family, forgotten, to only have him to comfort me during those hard times! You know nothing!”

Mika started to get angry as her sister was drunk and not making any sense, her green eyes widened as she didn’t know that father kicked her out because of her magic. He told her that she broke a rule and he had to deal with it. She never knew the feelings that her sister had to manage alone.

"Liar! All you do is lie to my face! Father is telling the truth! You and Harold are the same, using demon magic to step all over the hard-working people like father said! You should have never got involved with magic! That was his one rule! I can follow the rules, unlike some people.” She scoffed as Kayla got nose to nose with her.

“Oh yes! Little miss fucking perfect! You always want to impress Daddy so much, why not you just fuck him already and get it over with.” She spat as she raised her hands up in exaggeration.

“I’m – I’m not in love with-” she didn’t let her finish as she was slowly losing control.

“Oh please, you do whatever he says, when he says it. I’m surprised that you want to run the company, Oh, wait! I know why, it’s because you can’t say no to his demands! By the way this company is not cursed like you says it is, its cursed because of ‘him’!” Kayla smirks as Mika was taken back from her words. She lowered her head as it was deathly silent for a couple of minutes before she lifted her head and squared her eyes. Mika wanted to have the last word.

“Fine! It’s true I can’t say no but I believe in father. I’m going to prove it to you and make sure that everyone sees that I am the best! I can help him remove this cursed company and then I’ll be handing it over to father himself to make clean from his stretch!” Mika turned on her heel as she stormed back inside away leaving Kayla to let her words sink in.

[nerdylittleshit]

Thoughts about Spn 15x06

BEWARE! SPOILERS AHEAD!

Uff. What an episode. As we are in the final season everything that happens now feels much more significant. Once again the actual monster plotline (in both storylines) feels just like a means to an end, with the focus on the characters and their relationship with each other. Just like Becky said, the interesting part are the characters, not the monsters. This episode focused more on Sam, specifically his relationship with both Rowena and Eileen, and how both could be important for his future. Meanwhile Cas’s storyline was overshadowed by his recent break up with Dean. The Chuck storyline was on hold, given our boys time to reflect on their recent past.

But, as always, let’s take a closer look.

Fish ‘n’ Clarence

I was curious to see what Cas is up to, because for the first time in a long time he is without a mission. He cut ties with heaven, he thinks Chuck is out of the picture, and he is on break from his new family, the Winchesters, as well. I expected him to still hunt, to still do some good, because that is what Cas does, so I was surprised to see that he is on a break, renting a cabin, spending his days fishing, something Dean enjoys, so clearly he is still on Cas’s mind. It is obvious that Cas is still hurt, from the way he retreats himself, or as Melly said taking yourself out of the game. He makes it look like this is work related as well, but it goes deeper. His expression during his conversation with Dean was that of a jilted lover. He hasn’t read Sam’s messages, or answered his calls, knowing that Sam would ask him questions he is not ready to answer yet. Dean on the other hand expresses his worries, despite everything. Everything about that scene was framed in the way of two people having to talk each other after they broke up; not like two friends or family members who recently had a big fight. And on the other side we had Sam, who had to deal with both Rowena and Eileen, two women he has (subtextual) romantic connections too. A parallel that obviously would not work if we aren’t meant to read Dean and Cas as a romantic couple as well. Everyone is haunted by their (ex) lovers.

The Sheriff, who turned out to be a djinn, is an obvious parallel to Chuck. A man in position of power, who abuses said power, by covering up his own crimes. Cas explicitly calls him out for that, telling him that his power won’t protect him from Cas. Other people smarter than me have already written lots of meta about Cas role in season 15, from Becky explicitly calling out Chuck for not including Cas in his story, and that is ignorance might be Chuck’s downfall. Chuck is so focused on Sam and Dean, that he totally underestimates Cas’s power, the original rebel and breaker of rules. Cas is the embodiment of free will. And in all of Sam’s visions so far (Chuck’s possible endings), Cas played no role. Because in the original events it was Cas who helped preventing that one brother would kill the other. And now Cas has realized that taking yourself out of the game won’t change the game. The only way to defeat Chuck is to become active again. To stop someone else who abuses his power.

Some other things I noticed about Cas: he used the alias ‘Clarence Worley’, a character from the movie “True Romance”. It is possible he simply used the alias because ‘Clarence’ is an alias he used before (and the name Meg had given him). My personal headcanon is however that Dean made him watch “True Romance”, perhaps even explicitly pointing out that one of the characters is named Clarence and it stuck with Cas.  

Once again we see someone shooting Cas, to no effect, reminding us of his angelic nature. And yet, moments later we see Cas healing someone, and how it seems to drain him, something we have also seen before. It might be because heaven is still running on low energy or because Chuck’s weakened state influences the angels as well, we don’t know yet.

And lastly Cas told Melly that monsters are real, just like Dean did last episode with “Ashley”. It is obviously not the first time they told civilians the truth, but I still think it is odd how regularly they do this now.

And don't be afraid of the ghost of love (It'll haunt you as long as you want)

Sam is haunted not by one but two of his (subtextually) lovers. Though I found it oddly touching how much trust both Rowena and Eileen put in Sam. Rowena made sure that only Sam would be able to enter her apartment and obtain her possessions (though perhaps Dean would have been able as well). Eileen reached out to Sam after her death. Sam of course feels responsible for both of those deaths; directly for Rowena’s death as he was the one who killed her (despite her consent) and indirectly for Eileen, who died simply because she knew the Winchesters. It is quite telling then that after an episode that deals with characters haunted by their past we finish it with a woman coming back from the dead, undoing at least one of Sam’s traumas.

Eileen, just as Kevin, landed in hell despite being innocent, and just like him she therefore can’t go to heaven. It implies that this might be a bigger issue, that there are more than just two innocent souls, who do belong in heaven, but are now stuck on earth. The spell Sam uses only works once, because we learn that once Death sees a loophole she closes it (speaking of Death, when will we see Billy, and hopefully Jack, again?).

The way Sam found the page with the spell, by coincidence, reminded me of 7x17, the way Dean accidently found the number of a hunter who would lead him to Emmanuel/Cas, though we later found out it was Bobby’s ghost helping him. So perhaps Rowena’s ghost helped as well? The spell however is not finished and it is interesting to see that Sam by now knows enough about witchcraft to finish it. Sam even reminded us that Rowena was perhaps the most powerful witch, we know how complex her spells usually are, so this means something. And hopefully we will see more of witch!Sam in the future, because that role suits him.

Once again we also have another pair of siblings, that are meant to parallel Sam and Dean, though the parallel does not work out. Sam thinks he can bond with Emily over their older siblings, but where Dean only teased Sam, Jacinda straight out abused her younger sister. Sam offers her a way out, but Emily refuses and instead uses for once the chance to cause pain on somebody else; the abused becomes the abuser. While Emily did not kill her sister she does not wish for her to come back to life either. Yet she can’t withstand her mother; she is unable to break free from her toxic family and in the end all three women are dead. Unlike Sam and Dean, who have learned from their past, and their toxic relationship has developed over the years to a much healthier one.

On a short note, two of the witches are played by actresses who have appeared on the show before, the witch mother and Emily. The actress who played Emily even appeared in season 1 (episode 1x19), back then a child, now a young woman, a nod to how long the show has been on the air. We already had other actors this season who had guest stared before on the show (the couple from 15x04 had appeared – also as a couple – in 1x08) and by now this re-castings feel deliberate, little nods to the long past of the show.

Like I mentioned before we finish the episode with one of the ghosts haunting Sam becoming a living person again: Eileen. There was something quite intimate about the scene, though I didn’t think the fact that Eileen was naked made the scene sexual charged; it was a symbol for her rebirth. But she shared that moment with Sam, she started her new life with him and he is the one who brought her back to life. If they (hopefully) end up as a couple this is quite some story to tell. And yet another parallel to Dean and Cas. Cas brought Dean back from the dead as well, he raised him from perdition.

Sam and Dean still think quite different how to move on, now that they know Chuck is back. Just like Cas Sam thinks that you can’t change the game if you are not part of the game. He still thinks they have a choice, that they can break the rules, that Chuck can’t control everything (like Sam shooting him). Dean feels trapped, wondering what is real and what is not, despite Cas’s answer (“We are”). With both Sam and Cas ready to become masters of their fate again I think it is only a matter of time until Dean finds his spirit again. At least I hope so.

Until then <3

[mininky]

Nefarious Intentions

Summary: Life sometimes sucks. You’ve been stuck in that strange world that is adulting, questioning everything about life as you’ve gradually grown harder and harder to everything until one bland date brings you to a small record store and you meet him. Min Yoongi. In his very words, ‘not a good guy’ but he’s just too tempting to ignore. And safe, careful, planner you finds yourself wrapped up in the storm that is Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre: Smut, possibly the longest sex scene I have ever written, with bits of introspective romance?? I guess?

Word Count: 15.2K

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (F giving and receiving), spanking, a hell of a lot of dirty talk, and as always from me, plenty of swearing.

A/N: This isn’t complete. You’ve been warned. It doesn’t leave off on like...a cliffhanger or anything, but I’ve had this bad boy sitting around for ages and I’m just too busy to finish any of my projects at the moment but a lovely friend of mine reminded me about this particular bad boy Yoongi fic and I felt that I owed all of y’all who’s stuck around my very long bouts of radio silence a holiday present. Merry Christmas, you filthy animals.

   You can still clearly remember the first time you fell in love. It wasn't anything amazing or special, it wasn't some wonderful whirlwind romance always portrayed in stories and movies. But you can remember the butterflies, the way your skin warmed uncomfortably any time you held hands, the way your breathing grew uneven just from the smallest of hugs or stolen glances. Soft kisses when others weren't looking would send your head into the clouds. You can also remember the heartache, the way it felt as though everything had come crashing down when he moved on and you were stuck trying to pick up the pieces of your life. But you would eventually, and if there's anything that you've learned as you've gotten older it's that love changes entirely. Not just with each partner but also with wisdom. Where you once could talk about the innocence of love now it was sex, marriage, children, careers, half-assed dates, trying to decide if you could see yourself living with that person or if the relationship wasn't going anywhere after just a few months.

   Love used to just be. It just came one day, crept into your heart like a thief in the night but instead of taking anything it just took up space. Ahhh, what a way to live. Youth holds far more innocence than people realize. Growing up is a pain, the world becomes crueler and you start analyzing everything instead of just living. When did that happen? When did love become a strategic game rather than just an effervescent thing swirling around in the depths of your soul? When did you start worrying so much about keeping up with others around you?

   You weren't always all this doom and gloom. In fact, most people will say that on the outside you seem to be a very positive, kind person. A bit of a pushover. Always there to help. Some might say otherwise, that sure you're nice enough but you seem to have a wall up. Is that such a bad thing? Is it bad to want to protect yourself from the inevitable pain of having to move on? If you were to answer honestly, wholeheartedly, you probably started feeling this way a few years ago. After you watched your best friend walk down the aisle. So beautiful. So happy. And you were so fucking alone. Miserably alone. And you felt like a complete bitch for watching such a beautiful moment happen all while thinking selfishly about none other than yourself. And then everyone else moved on. They got married or moved in with their partners. They had children. Your siblings all got married. And then there's you. The forever bachelorette. The workaholic.

   If we remain on the topic of honesty, you aren't even sure you know what love is anymore. You can vaguely recall the innocence of days past. The earnestness of loving simply because you couldn't control it. But you can't describe it. How does one describe love? If you had asked the you of yester-year...fine, yester-decade...you would have said, "It just is. It's there one day and it strings you along for a wild ride and you just try your best as the shotgun driver to help steer this whole thing along." But the older, hopefully, wiser you? Well, now you see love as something more akin to a good game of chess. It's a strategy. A battlefield, a place where good plans should hopefully get you across the way but where other plans can foil you. Fucking Pat Benatar had it right, who would've guessed?

   You glance back up at your date, drawn out of your internal ramblings as the waiter passes by. This guy isn't the worst. He certainly isn't the best. On paper he's got everything going for a good future. He's a doctor, he seems nice enough, he has his own home. For fuck's sake, he even works at a free clinic one weekend a month just to help people. And he's obnoxiously handsome. It's your third date with him. But why is it that you just don't feel a spark with him? Maybe you should sleep with him, see how that pans out. That's one thought. On the other hand whenever a waiter passes by you desperately want to grab the check and run back to your sanctum away from this boring hell.

   "(Y/N?)" You blink back up at Shownu, giving a small awkward smile.

   "Sorry, I guess I didn't get enough sleep last night. I'm a little tired."

   He nods kindly, grabbing a passing waiter and paying the check before he resumes speaking with you. "It's okay, you just looked a little bored. I'm sorry I'm sure that cardiovascular disease is probably a boring topic to most."

   "Oh no, it's fascinating." Lies. It felt like he was trying to read to you from a textbook. "I'm just a bit out of it. I have a new client who's been more than a bit difficult and I've had to work almost around the clock to try to figure out what'll make them happy."

   "What do you do again?" Looks like you aren't the only one snoozing off when the other person's speaking. That's not a good sign.

   "I'm a graphic designer. This client, in particular, is a local coffee shop, they're rebranding themselves but apparently, the two owners are having a hard time agreeing with what direction they want to go in. I'll get a green light from one and a red light from the other and it's been almost a week of this now." You ruffle your hair aggravatedly before stopping. "Sorry, I didn't mean to talk so much about work, I'm sure it's boring."

   "A bit." My god dick, take a hint. You were trying to be polite earlier and here he is just openly calling your work boring. "But that's okay. You've got a lot on your plate. You drove here right?"

   "Yup, I guess I'll talk to you later." Another lie. You have no intention of contacting him again. Even if he is hot and a doctor. Your friends would call you crazy to not be interested in him. But is it so wild to want to enjoy your time with the other partner? When did the world become about saving face and looking good? Was it always this way and you were just ignorant? No. Naive would be a better word for you. You needed to grow thicker skin.

   Shownu doesn't even walk you to your car, not that you're bothered by it. You wanted to escape just as much as he did. Looks like you'll have to keep looking. Or maybe you should give up. Be a spinster. Widdle your days away in your work and be the fun aunt who comes around to steal stop signs and do dumb shit with your nieces and nephews. Yeah, that sounds a lot more like you than some boring marriage. Maybe. Or maybe you're just giving up. You can't tell. Maybe it's just the last glass of wine you had talking.

   You look around before getting in your car, your eyes spotting a small record store across the street. You've lived in the city for ten years, yet you've never seen this tiny little gem before. It's tucked away, a small poorly lit sign simply saying 'records.' It looks so unusual here, in the posher side of town. But ten years ago this place hadn't been gentrified. It's like this one little building is holding out, refusing to conform. Unwilling to yield with the times, refusing to be aesthetically pleasing for some woman who owns a teacup poodle and drinks overpriced syrupy coffee who needs perfectly paved roads and has to speak to the manager. And before you can understand what you're doing you're jaywalking your ass right over to it.

   It's cramped, wall to wall, row after row it's filled with vinyls of all colors. There's a few teenagers looking around, clearly affluent based off of their clothing but rebelling. At least that's what you're assuming based off of the designer clothing mixed with cheap hair dye and piercings. Ah, you remember those days. Except your clothes were hand-me-downs and goodwill finds. Maybe vinyls are cool again. You can remember thinking you were hot shit to finally get a walkman at a garage sale. CD's were already mainstream then but they weren't cheap. The kids at school didn't have pity on you for that. Not that it mattered to you, it felt like you finally had the whole world of music available to you whenever you wanted.

   It feels nostalgic to go through the records. You can remember the way your oldest brother would begrudgingly take you with while he flirted with girls in a different record store. It was the spot, where only the raddest kids hung out. And now here you are almost three decades later in another record store late at night with just a bored employee and two rich kids who think they're hot shit for being in on something that others aren't. Ah, youth.

   One record, in particular, pulls at you. You stop for a moment, thumbing it before gently picking it up. Christ, does wine give you all the yearning for nostalgia or are you just getting old? You'll go with the wine, it's a much more comforting thought than confronting your age right now. You want to hang this up. Remind yourself of who you were. Who you are. You've been losing sight. Maybe. It's hard to tell, life moves too fast the older you get. Or maybe it's that pesky malbec. The fact that you only had two glasses isn't important. You need a scapegoat for tonight. A way to ease this growing uncomfortable feeling in your chest. Like the world is falling apart and moving on and you're stuck somewhere. You aren't sure where. But you do know that you need this. So you march up to the register, the two brats in the shop trailing behind shortly after.

   The boy, no that's definitely a fully grown man, lazily gazes up at you before taking the record and scanning it. You'd call him cute, but his eyes look a bit too hardened for that word. He looks like he's seen some shit and doesn't hide it from the world. Like he's ready for a fight at all times and probably sleeps with one eye open just in case. He'd be the type to survive a zombie apocalypse. "I didn't realize we even had any Atmosphere records. Wow, that takes me back."

   "Ant really was ahead of his time. I mean, don't get me wrong, Slug is a great rapper, but the real key to their music was how Ant produced everything. Their new records are great too, but this one? This one's just a real gem."

   "Hmmm, look at you, corporate hotshot getting her panties in a twist over some nineties backpack rappers." His words drawl lazily, a sardonic smile curling up and showing the gums of his teeth as he places the record in a bag. "The world is full of surprises." You aren't even sure what to say as he hands the bag over to you, standing there with your mouth agape before he nods his head. "You gonna move lady? I've got other people waiting." The teens behind you snicker, and you harden your eyes for just a moment before grabbing the bag and marching out. What a dick. A total dick. Tonight's not your night. Christ, what were you even doing there? You don't even have a record player.

   You don't realize it until you get home twenty minutes later, still fuming as you pull the record out, that he's left behind his phone number on the receipt. "Call me when you're bored, Ms. Corporate." When did the fucker even get the time to do this? The little shit's fast. He didn't even give you his name. Why does that bother you so much? He was a dick. You shouldn't want to know his name. You go to rip up the receipt but for some reason you find yourself tacking it up on the fridge. Maybe you'll save it for a lonely, no scratch that, angry night. Reem his ass out for fun and then you'll tear it up. Yeah sure, that's why you're keeping it.

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

   A week's gone by and you still haven't taken down that stupid receipt from your fridge. You haven't gone back to the shop either. You've been too busy, surviving off of ramen and egg sandwiches while working painfully long hours until you want to tear your hair out. You finally reach some semblance of agreement between the two owners, and you've finally finished working on their project. You got it done faster than anticipated, you just wanted them out of your life. But now you have only small projects in the meanwhile. And that's dangerous. Because free time keeps allowing your brain to wander back to him. If you're Ms. Corporate then he's Mr. Dick. You kind of wonder what his dick looks like, if it's big enough to back up his ego or not. You'd rather die than admit that. Shit, what are you thinking? If you've got time to fuck around then you've got time to pick up some more clients.

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   You aren't sure how you wound back up here, but suddenly you're back in the same vinyl shop with Mr. Dick behind the counter again. You refuse to acknowledge the inner glee at seeing his face again. You barely even look in his direction, instead, you start rifling through the records before picking out a few more. Once you start digging through you find your brain focusing more on the artwork, on the way how everything comes together, nostalgia blossoming as you thumb through familiar covers. Radiohead, The Roots, Sade, Maxwell. Lord, you can remember your first boyfriend putting Maxwell on while making out with you in the car. You called him an old man, said it was probably what your parents put on to have sex. He was dejected, you thought it was funny but sweet. He didn't see it that way. So it goes.

   You quietly walk up to the counter, a soft smile playing on your face as you carefully place everything before the look on your face is wiped back to a careful blank slate when you see Mr. Dick cocking a half-grin at you. He looks like the type of guy that high school girls used to cream themselves over, they probably still do. The kind that always has a cigarette in hand, definitely used to be a skater, probably has a secret love child on the other side of the country, maybe did some minor time for a couple of DUIs. You almost want to laugh at the way you're trying so hard to picture his life. The poor dude's probably just totally normal, or maybe you hit the nail on the head. What does it matter, he's just some random dick.

   "Ms. Corporate, you're back I see."

   "I am."

   "Always a pleasure to see a pretty gal in here, but especially when it's you." You roll your eyes and he grins at this, you hate the way how your defenses almost momentarily break at just how cute he is when he smiles, really smiles. Here you were trying to figure out if he's done time or not and suddenly you're wanting to pinch his cheek. Christ, you need to get out more. And you don't mean back here either. "I'm a little sad though, you never did give me a call."

   "I never got bored. Besides, what was I even supposed to do? Call you up and go, hey the dick behind the counter at the record store, I'm bored?" He laughs at this, a full belly laugh before he cocks his head to the side.

   "You're an interesting one Ms. Corporate. Here I was trying to figure you out, and you've thrown me for another loop. I wasn't lying though, I was disappointed that I didn't hear from you."

   Your eyes narrow for a moment, trying hard to fight the heat that so desperately wants to rise to your cheeks. "Like I said, I wasn't bored. And I'm not interested in speaking to random nameless douchebags."

   He nods his head, sliding your credit card and humming for a moment before the machine chirps and he hands over your bag and receipt. Before you can turn around he's speaking again, "Yoongi. Min Yoongi." You stare at him for a moment before he continues, "Now I'm not a nameless douche."

   "A named douche doesn't fair any better in my books. I suppose I should've said that first."

   "Fair enough, but at least I don't buy old man sex music in the middle of the night." You can't help but laugh at that, Maxwell really is old man sex music so you can't blame him. In fact, some twisted part of you is elated that he thinks so too. Not that you'd admit that to even yourself.

   "Have a good night, Min Yoongi." He looks startled for a second, he's almost transfixed on the way you laugh. You can't feel his eyes trailing you as you walk out the door, you're far too focused on trying to calm the strangely warm fuzzy feeling trying to take over you to notice.

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   Life is strange, no matter what age you are things will pop up that you can't explain how exactly it's happened, or why it's happened. The trick to being an adult is looking like you know what the fuck is going on, but the honest truth is no one does. Maybe they think they do, maybe they really do more often than not, but no one does one hundred percent of the time. That's the honest truth. The entirety of humanity is a mass of dumbasses pretending to look like they know what's going on. You are indeed one of those dumbasses, another fish in a large school trying not to be eaten but having no clue what lays beyond the school of fish ninety percent of the time. Your predator goes by the name of Min Yoongi. Perhaps he doesn't even see himself as a predator nor you as prey, but that's exactly how you see it. It's been over a month since you last stepped foot in his workplace. There should be no need to go. You now have five vinyls and still no record player. Most would call them poor financial choices and an odd way to splurge. You've thought about it more than you can count though, going back to see him that is. That stupid fucking receipt is still hanging up on your fridge, and it's taken everything in your willpower to not call him randomly.

   Min Yoongi. You wonder, far too often for your own good, who he is. What he likes, dislikes. What makes him tick. What gets him off. You blame him. It's the way he looks at you. Cold eyes, analyzing you to your very soul. Sneering at you one second, taunting you smugly, before switching to the sweetest smile you've ever seen. You've only seen him twice, no longer than a few minutes at a time. You don't know if you can even say that you've ever had a real conversation with him. He doesn't even know your name. And yet he runs through your thoughts on repeat. You would love to be able to settle on a normal human. A good guy, someone like Shownu. Safe, stable, traditionally handsome, a great career. But your stupid fucking brain feels nothing around a guy like him and then suddenly it sparks and rewires itself around a douche named Min Yoongi who you actually wondered if he did time or not. Life is strange. So it goes.

   It's thoughts like these that are your downfall. Late at night, all alone in bed. Pondering what he's doing, who he's doing. You're sure a deadbeat like him has a slew of girls at his beck and call. He certainly acts like it. But that shouldn't matter to you. After a month of wondering, going back and forth, staring longingly at the fridge, you're picking up your phone and slowly entering in the numbers. One digit takes you nearly thirty seconds, the last time it took you this long to call someone was when you were staying at your grandmother's house using her outdated rotary phone as a child. And here you are, a grown woman, terrified over some dick who works at a record store. Life is strange, you can't help but think as you delete the numbers and enter them back in. Should you, shouldn't you? What's to gain? What's to lose? Life is about strategy, isn't it? Does he offer you anything? Perhaps temporary release is all you need. But can he actually offer that? Maybe. Hopefully. Maybe not. Who knows. It's a risk. Not a calculated one either. In fact, odds are heavily stacked against him. And the adult in you says to not bother. That's what vibrators are for, if all you're looking for is a release. But there's another voice, something longing for this. There's something about him that plays on repeat in your head. Something that stirs up oddly sentimental feelings in you when you think of him. Which is strange, you don't know him. So how can sentimentality be tied to someone you just met? Maybe it's just part of his trade for soon to be old spinsters like you, you guess.

   You take another deep breath, staring at the screen as you sink down to the floor of the kitchen and finally hit the dial button. Shit. Fuck. What are you doing? This isn't like you. You haven't thought out every exit strategy yet. Christ. Oh god. "Hello?" His voice is deeper over the phone. You won't explain how that makes you feel, it's a bit embarrassing honestly.

   "Yoongi?"

   "Ms. Corporate?"

  "...Yes..." That's right, you never told him his name. There's garbled background noise for a minute, you hear him telling someone to shut the fuck up before it's eerily silent for a moment and then you hear a breathy chuckle. And oh god, you are so so so fucking screwed.

   "Holy shit. I didn't think you'd actually call. Just when I thought you forgot all about me you actually call."

   "I was bored." You bite back a smile, head resting on your fridge as you stare up at the ceiling. Jesus, you should dust more often, is that a spiderweb?

   He gives a sing-song laugh, and that strange tipsy feeling in your gut bubbles back up again. You feel oddly nervous, kind of giddy. When's the last time you felt this way? You don't know if you ever did. "Holy Christ. I'm sorry, give me a moment, this just...makes me weirdly happy. Fuck. Shit. -I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO HOME. Sorry, not you Ms. Corporate. Just uh, a friend. He's a dipshit. A bit drunk. Having girlfriend troubles I guess. Dunno why he came to me. I uh...I dunno why I'm telling you this either. Christ. Are you still there?"

   "I'm here." You don't know what to say. Fuck. Why did you call?? It's been nearly thirty seconds and you've already lost all confidence in saying anything. This is why you need a plan, a strategy. When you don't know how to proceed the only option is to deflect. So deflect you shall. "How did you know it was me?"

   "I've answered nearly every unknown number asking if it was you for about six weeks now if I was very honest. Not that you needed to know that." You swear you can hear him give an awkward chuckle. How unexpected. Perhaps staying behind the counter gives him an odd confidence boost. Or maybe he's been drinking just like his friend and is being a bit too honest. You're not sure why, but that doesn't feel like such a bad thing to you. The lack of snark is as startling as it is endearing.

   "Well, I've kept your stupid receipt pinned to my fridge for the last six weeks. Not that you need to know that." You smile at the way he laughs this time, mentally visualizing his gummy smile. Maybe you should have face timed him. But then he'd see you looking like a full damn mess in the middle of the night. You'll just have to imagine what he looks like.

   "You're really cute Ms. Corporate. Really obnoxiously cute for someone who has the strangest taste in music. I mean you went from Atmosphere to Radiohead to Maxwell. I'm sure it branches out even further than that and hopefully to a few other decades. I'm curious."

   "About what? My music tastes?"

   "Well yeah. And a lot of other things about you. Like I said, I've been trying to figure you out. You run around in my thoughts all day lately. That's not fair Ms. Corporate. Not fair at all. At least you can think of me as the douche with the name. But all I've got is Ms. Corporate with weird music tastes."

   "Hmm...."

   "What do you mean hmmm? Isn't this your cue to, oh I don't know, tell me your name?"

    "It's fun this way. Safe. Now I don't have to worry about you looking me up and finding my place and chopping me up into pieces."

   "Pretty sure I would've done that beforehand if that were the case, you know, cover my tracks and not leave my number behind or anything. Come on Ms. Corporate, you're killing me. I want to know if your name is as pretty as your face."

   You give it a moment, relishing silently in the exasperated sighs you hear over the phone, his feet shuffling loudly against pavement before finally, you speak up. "(Y/N). My name's (y/n)."

   "(Y/N)." The way he says your name slowly has tingles running up your spine, your cheeks heating up at the way it almost feels like he's savoring your name. Christ, what is it about this cheeky devil? One second he's captain douche and the next second he's adorable and then suddenly he has your toes curling just from the way he says your name. He has 'bad idea' written all over him in big bold letters and yet here you are, sitting on your kitchen floor grinning like a fool. When's the last time you smiled this much? Shit, that's a depressing thought, let's not think about that. "That's a pretty name. It fits you."

   "You sure do seem to be all compliments tonight. I'm wondering when sir asswipe will come out."

   "I save him for the store. Customer service will do that to you." That's...fair enough. But still. And why does that make you laugh? Why is it that everything just seems so easy with him? "(Y/N)." He pauses for a moment, you hear a lighter clicking in the background before he takes a drag. Well, it looks like you got one thing right, he's a smoker. Ashtray tongue, not that great. You bet he makes it look hot though. "I wanna see you."

   You don't respond, breathing halting for a moment before you hum. You want to see him too, that's the honest truth. You want to get to know him, explore him. Open him up and examine his thoughts, lay in bed and talk for hours, maybe throw on that Maxwell record and see what happens. Wait...what the fuck are you thinking? You can't help but burst out laughing, stopping when you realized that you probably sound absolutely insane and rude. Insanely rude. "Wait, no I wasn't laughing that you want to see me, it's just...I don't know why but that stupid Maxwell album popped into my head." You pause, terrified that he'll be angry or upset or realize that you're a bumbling idiot but instead, he gives a sing-song laugh. God, you want to see his face too.

   "Okay, real talk though, why did you buy old man porn music?"

   "I felt like I had to, I don't know, buy it to repent for my sins?" He's wheezing now, his laughter becoming infectious until you find yourself cracking up with him. Why is it so easy to talk to him?

   "What in the fuck does that even mean?"

   "I feel like at this point, it's better without explaining. But I will anyway. When I was in high school I was dating this dude who broke up with me because I made fun of him for putting on a Maxwell tape when we made out in his car. I told him it was old man sex music, and when you said it when I was checking out it confirmed that while I was right, I owed poor Maxwell my money I guess. I don't know. I'm not making any sense am I?"

   "Kind of? Not really? I get the feeling that I'll always still be wondering a bit with you though. Not that that's a bad thing. You're weird (Y/N), but good weird. I certainly didn't expect this from a corporate hotshot."

   "Why do you keep calling me that?"

   "Well, you look like you work in an office. You don't?"

   "Nope. I own my own business, I'm a graphic designer. But I was on a date the first time I popped in, oh and the second time I popped in I had just finalized some things with a client in person."

   "You...you wore a business suit on a...date? I don't mean to be rude but um...how old exactly are you (Y/N)? Like what era did you come from?"

   "Ah, Monsuire Jerkwad appears again. I'm 30 for your information. Which is an old biddy in my mother's eyes."

   "Whaaaat? I mean I figured from your music choices you were about my age, but wow. Look at that, I'm just one year older than you. I guess that makes me whatever the fuck the male version of an old biddy is. Say though, (Y/N), why for fuck's sake would you wear a business suit on a date? You didn't answer that earlier." Huh. So he's just a year older than you. You thought that he was younger actually. Man, asian really don't raisin. You briefly wonder what his skincare routine is. Or maybe he's one of those bastards that just uses Irish spring soap for everything and still magically looks great with no idea that there's a difference between moisturizer and lotion.

   "Ah...well, I went on the date after meeting with a client. But I mean, it was like a hot librarian suit right?" You can tell by the laughter that you were way off the mark. "Yeah...okay so it was just a normal suit. But whatever, I didn't feel a need to get dressed up for him."

   "What, is the guy a slob or something?"

   "Nah, in fact, it couldn't be further from that. But I dunno I just didn't really jive with him."

   "But you went on a date with him anyway?"

   "I told you Yoongi, I'm an old biddy. I'm drying up over here. Eggs ticking or whatever. At least according to every single family member, even the extended ones I rarely talk to."

   "Being a chick must be rough, I feel like they nag you guys extra hard. But I get it, my folks are always pestering me to get married. Settle down, find a career, have kids. Shit, at this point they don't even care what order it happens. If I came home with some random baby I think they wouldn't even be angry they'd just be like 'finally, little Mins.' It doesn't help that my brother and his wife don't want to try for kids for another couple of years so suddenly all the pressure's on me."  

   "God, I felt that in my soul. Why can't they just let us breathe? It's like my life revolves around finding someone to make my parents happy all of a sudden. I don't even know when that happened. Or how, or why. But it's like, I've gotta keep up with everyone else you know? I feel like somewhere along the line I got left behind."

   "Did you though?" He takes a long drag, and you swear you can practically smell the cigarette through the phone. You bet he's a clove kind of guy, he's too weird to go for menthols. "I mean, did you really get left behind? Life happens for everyone at different times. What's so wrong about that? Trust me, I get the pressure and the nagging and the bullshit. But at the end of the day, this is your life. Live it without regrets. Why settle just because other people tell you that you should? That seems boring as fucking hell."

   Life really is strange. Who would have guessed that some random dick in a random record store you'd never been to before a shitty date would suddenly be the one lifting the burden off your shoulder as if it had never been there? Everyone else was always telling you that it would happen, that the right guy would come along and soon enough you'd be married and having kids and all would be grand. But the honest truth is...that's not what you want. You don't even know if you want kids. And marriage? Man, that just seems like something you don't need in your life right now. When did you get so wrapped up in feeling like you'd been left in the dust that you felt you had to do the exact same things to keep up?

   Somewhere, in the core of your very being, you probably knew right then and there that you were getting into way too deep of territory for someone you had just met. But you had dropped your guard, refused to acknowledge any warning signs. How could you when someone finally was telling you that it was okay to just live? He told you the words that you needed the most without even knowing it. You can feel tears threating to rise but you gulp everything down and instead just give a quiet thanks. You just hear the drag of his cigarette again before he responds with an equally quiet no problem. It feels like the world could stop, right there and then. As if it was just the two of you, frozen in your own separate corners of earth while quietly listening to the static from the phone and all would be well. It felt safe. Dangerously safe.

   "Fuck, I need to charge my phone it's about to-" With that, the call drops and you stare at your phone for a moment. Maybe it was for the best that his phone died, who knows what you would have said to him if you stayed on the phone any longer. You just practically spilled your guts to a virtual stranger from your kitchen floor at one in the morning. And yet, for the first time in a long time, all you can do is stare happily at your phone before finally forcing yourself into bed.

   The next morning you may or may not have squealed like a complete buffoon upon reading the text you missed from him after falling asleep. "Sorry bout that. Next time tho, I wanna see you in person. That way there's no worries about my phone dying." Shit. It's too early for this kind of attack. You'll blame being half-awake for why you responded with just a simple "K." You only have your own neuroticism to blame for your internal freakouts that constantly reoccur over the next few days when you don't hear anything back. Maybe you were a bit too dry. Okay...you most certainly were too dry. Christ, if there's ever been a dead fish version of a text, that would be it. Maybe you should have expected to fumble this badly. Maybe it's a good thing. He didn't seem like the type to really be interested in anything other than playing around. Not that you were expecting anything. Right? Okay...well maybe you did kind of really want to make out with him. Which is strange, because honestly, you can't remember the last time you even thought of wanting to make out with someone. University years maybe? But now's not the time to be thinking about that! Nows the perfect time to throw yourself into work, it's the best scapegoat for avoiding emotions you'd rather not explore.

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   "Wow, your boredom intervals are quickly decreasing. Do you not have a lot of work right now or?" Jesus what in the fuck are you even thinking, dragging your ass in this stupid fucking store in the middle of the night for a third time. And you still don't have a goddamn record player. God, you pray he never finds that out. He'd probably never stop making fun of you.

   You can't help but shoot a glare in his direction, but your nerves falter the moment you see the shit-eating grin on his face. You swear you can feel your breath hitch in the back of your throat and trap itself. It's suffocating. Blinding. It's not fair. He's so handsome. Dark disheveled hair partially obscuring his coffee-colored eyes, gummy grin, obnoxiously white teeth for a smoker, milky pale skin that's always at stark odds with his typical black t-shirt, veiny hands. This isn't good. This isn't fair. You really want to kiss him.

   "What, cat got your tongue or something Ms. Corporate?" He's leaning across the counter, head cocked as he openly ogles you. It's not fair. You've been a wreck for the last few days, waiting around for some sort of a response and this fucking shrimp is acting like you never spoke. Like nothing changed. Like he didn't tell you he wanted to see you in person. It's probably just your own stupidity or neuroticism peaking through, but when he called you Ms. Corporate it felt like that perfect paradise on the phone was all a mirage. As if it never happened. It's infuriating how he can act so calm. Before you can continue overthinking and turning around in circles you march up to the counter and grip his shirt in your hand, pulling him in for a kiss that he reciprocates unusually quickly. You can feel his tongue slide across your lower lip, asking for entrance when the sound of the door chimes pull you quickly away. Damn these stupid kids buying records in the middle of the night. Don't they have a curfew?? Fucking rich kids trying to be edgy when they should be at home, in bed, not fucking interrupting this not so Hallmark moment.

   "Stop fucking calling me Ms. Corporate, you colossal idiot." You can distantly hear him sending you off with a hoarse 'goodnight.' Everything in you wants to turn around and see what kind of a face he's making. Is he just making fun of you? Is he as hot and bothered as you from a kiss? It felt like electricity ran up your spine like everything was floating for a moment, the world just goes away when you're with him and all that's there is the two of you. Fuck. You like Sargeant fuckface from the record store. And even though you have a feeling that all of this is a terrible idea you can't help but grin to yourself the entire way home. Hey, at least this time you didn't waste more money on records you can't play.

   You aren't sure if it's the place, or Yoongi, or your increasing age that your mother likes to remind you of constantly (not that you'd ever admit that) that makes you feel so nostalgic, so sentimental. But whenever you're around him it hits you hard. When did love lose innocence, when did it stop simply being about selfishly, greedily wanting to learn everything about the other person and staying by their side? When did it grow to be a chore, a thing that you did because it was another step on the ladder of life? And why is it that when you're around him all you can feel is those same simple straightforward feelings? Fuck, you want to kiss him again. His lips were so soft, and you were right, he tasted like Djarum Blacks. You wonder how he got them, you're pretty sure that there's a ban on them now. Ashy, a bit of clove lingering on his lips. Lingering on yours. God, it's almost infuriating how happy that makes you. Almost. But right now, you're too wrapped up in glee to be annoyed. You hope that somehow, someday, you'll manage to wrap him around your finger the way he has you so effortlessly wrapped over his. Not that you're complaining. If you're going to be wrapped around anyone's fingers, you're okay with it being his. Not that you've been staring at them whenever he handed you your bags or anything. Nope. That definitely wasn't the case. Maybe.

   When you get back home you try your hardest to stay busy, but your thoughts keep wandering back. Jesus, you think it would be easier to control your brain. It isn't until your phone clatters off the counter that you realize Yoongi's calling you, and for a moment you squint at the phone before hastily picking it up and answering. Shit wait, act cool. "'Sup Colonel nitwit?" Fuck, wait that wasn't cool. Christ, why are you like this? What are you, a twelve-year-old boy? You should probably seek counseling for your stupidity. Or maybe not, because when you hear that sing-song laughter reverberating through your ears it suddenly makes everything feel okay again.

   "You're something (y/n). A real piece of work. I mean you called me an idiot earlier, no wait, a colossal idiot and now I'm Colonel nitwit?" He laughs again, and once again you find yourself sliding down the fridge onto the floor, blushing as you blink up at the ceiling. Dejavu. "Ah, this is bad. I should have texted you. Hearing your voice makes me want to see you in person."

   "Foul. Out of bounds. That's not fair play. You aren't allowed to say things that cute."

   "You fouled first, who just marches up to someone and kisses them at their place of work?"

   "It's not like anyone else was there." You're glad he isn't here to see your face, you're already grinning like a fool and you have a feeling that he'd tease you mercilessly if he could see you right now.

   "Until those damn brats showed up." Ah, it makes you painfully happy that he was just as annoyed as you were. "I don't know what it is about you, but you just run around my thoughts all damn day."

   "So why didn't you ever text me back?"

   "AH! About that, I realized after I hung up that you said you were out on a date that first time and I suddenly started feeling like a homewrecker. I mean, I know you said that you didn't seem interested in him or maybe that was me just hoping I heard that I dunno everything feels kind of fuzzy now. My memories are hazy I just-"

   "It was just a date, not a boyfriend. I'm not the type to talk to others when I'm sincerely dating. Although I'm also not the type to call up guys who leave me their numbers on receipts. I guess the world is full of surprises."

   "God, this is really bad, I really wanna see your face. And you can't tell me that this isn't fair play when you basically just called me special."

   "I'm sorry, but what language were you thinking I was speaking that that's what you came up with? Because I'm pretty sure I didn't come close to saying that."

   "No no, it was totally there. In the subtext. It's all about the subtext you know. I mean you said that you aren't the type to call guys who give you their number on a receipt and yet you still called me. That makes me special."

   "Bwa-what's with that. You dork. Shit, now I wanna see your face."

   "Where are you? I'll come over to you."

   "I'm at my home. Scary. Maybe you are a serial killer and that's really your goal. You know, to chop me up in little pieces or some weird shit."

   "Wanna take the risk?"

   "Kind of."

   "Only kind of??? What's with that lukewarm response? I'm clearly not a serial killer. But I won't act like I don't have nefarious intentions." You can hear the clicking of the lighter, and you can't help but take a deep inhale at the same time as him. God, you bet he looks hot smoking. Wait no, smoking is bad. Very very bad. "Where'd your thoughts go right now, (y/n)?" It's not fair. He has you wrapped around his finger. You want to see him, you want to inhale his scent, run your fingers through his hair, taste him, touch him, fuck him. Fuck. When's the last time a guy got you this hot and bothered from merely existing? Has this ever actually happened? You aren't sure.

   "I'm curious, describe these nefarious intentions please."

   There's a pause, another drag of his cigarette. "Alright, I'll start with the less deviant things. I can't get the feeling of your lips outta my head. I want to kiss you, hold you, touch you. It's weird, I'm not normally the type for soft fluffy things. But the world is strange, as you said. You do weird things to my brain (y/n). You run around my thoughts night and day. When the door chimes at work I turn into Pavlov's dog and hope it's you." There's another long pause, for a moment all you hear is the thudding of your heart rushing into your eardrums and the soft staccato of static coming from your phone.

   "Those don't seem very nefarious to me."

   "Interesting, so you DO want to hear my deviant thoughts."

   "Well, calling your intentions nefarious is a rather interesting way of putting it. It makes it sound more sinister and less...I dunno...sexual? And then when you explained it all seemed rather, I don't know...innocent I guess."

   "That's because I don't wanna scare you off, Ms. Corporate."

   "Again with that stupid name?"

   "I wanna fuck you." Shit, you weren't expecting him to be that straightforward, especially after he seemed to be beating around the bush earlier. And why are you now a mix of happy and horny? That's a new mix for you. "I want to see what kind of faces you make when you cum. I want to taste you. I want to see you under me, on top of me, I want to hear you beg, I want to hear you scream my name. I want to ruin you until all you can think of is me. Until all that satisfies you is me, because right now all I can think of is you. All I want is you. And it doesn't feel fair to not see you in that same boat. So what do you say, (y/n)? Do you still want to see me tonight?"

   You want to tell him that you're also in the same boat, that really the two of you have been going in circles with the same thoughts for probably just as long. Both of you are so greedy, wanting and thinking of nothing but ruining the other. But ruin seems an unfair word, it seems to scratch only the surface. The honest truth is that you just wholeheartedly want the other person, you want them under your thumb to declare them yours. Maybe. It's strange. You were always the kind of girl to take things slow. You never did one night stands, you never had fuck buddies or booty calls or anything even close to resembling that. Sex was always something that came far later in a relationship. But this? You aren't even sure what it is. You can't exactly say he's a friend, you don't really know him. You can't say that you aren't on the way to becoming lovers, but then again he might be thinking of things from a strictly physical standpoint. You aren't sure. Maybe you should ask. Someday perhaps. If you were frank though all of this excites you. Fascinates you. Terrifies you ever so slightly. But all you can think of at this moment is that it elates you to no end that he wants you just as much as you want him. How absolutely greedy. "I do. I probably shouldn't, but I do."

   "Yeah," the dark chuckle on the other line brings heat up to your face, your breath catching in your throat. He suffocates you even with the simplest of things, even with a laugh. "Yeah, you probably shouldn't. You strike me as a good girl. The type to always please others before pleasing herself. The type to not rebel. I don't know why, but I feel I should at least tell you this. I'm not a good guy, I'm not the guy you take home to your parents or the kind of dude you can gush about to all of your friends. But I am at least confident that I can give you a reprieve. It's gotta be stressful, being good all the time constantly working for others, constantly pleasing others. But who tries to please you, understand you, allows you to just be selfish every once in a while? I can be that for you. I want to be that for you. Which is really weird because I usually hate when chicks want that from me. And here I am offering myself up on a silver platter to you. Man, the guys would think I've gone crazy if I told them this. I don't even get it, but there's just something about you that makes me feel...I dunno something."

   It's strange, how little he knows you and yet he says the things you need to hear the most. When is the last time you did something simply because you wanted to before he stumbled into your life? Did you ever? Here you were hot and bothered before and now you want to cry big fat ugly happy tears. Yoongi gives you emotional whiplash with just a few words. It's not fair. "I want to see you. Tonight."

   "Okay." Another drag, another chuckle. "Okay, then send me your address."

   You fumble with the phone, texting the address over to him quickly, your heart jumping out of your throat the entire time. The anticipation has your heart soaring and nerves dropping deep into your belly, you're a mess of a multitude of emotions all at the same time.

   "Wow, would you look at that. You're only about ten minutes away from me. I'll be over soon." Before you can respond he hangs up, and you're left staring at the ceiling wondering momentarily what you've just gotten yourself into before you're scrambling off the kitchen floor and into your bedroom. Shit, shit. You don't have much time. The house is presentable, barely. Whatever. It'll have to do. You brush your teeth, comb out your hair quickly, and do a quick once over. He'll have to just deal with your bare face, but hey at least you shaved in the bath earlier. The doorbell chimes right as you throw an oversized sweater over one of your nicer lace bras you quickly changed into. You nearly knock into every door and corner on your way to the front door, slipping slightly at the entrance before taking a deep breath and opening it.

   He's painfully good looking, but his trademark blase pokerface has you ever so slightly annoyed. Here you were rushing about, a bundle of nerves and energy, and he looks remarkably indifferent to everything. As if he didn't just tell you that he has, and you quote, nefarious intentions. But that thought runs right out the door the moment he narrows his eyes on you and gives you one of his award-winning gummy grins. You're so fucked. You're such a sucker for him already. "You okay?"

   "What, yeah, why wouldn't I be?" You open the door wider, motioning him to come in before shutting the door gently behind him.

   "Because you look nervous. Relax, I'm not here to eat you. Eat you out, maybe. If that's what you want. I'm only here to give you whatever you want." He narrows his eyes on you again, his gaze sweeping over you before looking directly at you. It feels like he can see right through you, right down to your very soul. It's comforting, terrifying, it's like everything that comes with him is a euphoric blend of polar opposites leaving you to drown somewhere in the in-between. He makes you feel like you're in the eye of the storm but precariously close to being tossed into the chaos raging all around you.

   "I hate to say this, but that sounds almost too good to be true. What's in it for you?" You tilt your head, analyzing him as you lean back against the door while trying to feign nonchalance.

   "You. And oddly enough, for once that's enough for me." He shrugs at this comment, although his eyes narrow a bit as if even he can't even believe that he just admitted this.

   "What if I said I didn't want more? Or what if I said that I wanted no strings attached if there is more? Or if I said-"

   "-I want strings attached. No, I need strings attached." You can't help but blink owlishly back at him as you try to digest this information. You pegged him for a wham-bam-thank you ma'am but I'm never calling you again type of man. "Call me crazy, I mean this is totally out of my typical wheelhouse but I realized that I was jealous when you said you were on a date right before you first came into the shop. If we're going to do this I want strings attached. Call it whatever you want, but whatever this is it's just me and you babe. No one else."

   "No one else on either side?" Greedy, selfish, but fair. You're over the moon that for whatever reason he's just the same as you. At least, when it comes to this situation. God, you want him. All of him. You want to sink deeper into this, drown yourself in him, lose yourself in all that he has to offer you. That's dangerous. But you don't care, you're already too far gone. You can feel your stomach tighten, mind halting as he stalks closer to you, his breath hot on your ear as one hand tightens around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

   "No one else on either side." His eyes travel down from your eyes to your lips before slowly wandering back up. God, you just want him to kiss you already.

   "Deal." Why do you feel like you might have just made a pact with the devil? And why is it that you still really don't care, as long as it means you get to finally taste him again. Fucking hell, you're pretty sure all of your sanity flies right out the window when he's involved. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, just a few centimeters away from your own. So close, so close. It's like time has stilled. As if the world has fallen away and yet again all that's left is the two of you. Falling, falling. Sinking. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. Into a chasm of euphoric insanity of pleasure.

   Slowly, painfully slowly, you move your hand to his cheek the other hand winding up the firm planes of his chest. That surprises you, you thought he'd be more delicate. He certainly seems delicately built at first glance, but looks can be deceiving. His eyes never leave your own, his sights set squarely on you. Refusing to look away. Refusing to run. A deal has been made with the devil, and the devil is letting you know you aren't about to leave his crosshairs. "Kiss me, Yoongi." That signature lazy half-smile of his appears for just a fraction before his lips are on yours. He's spicy, ashy. That damn clove has your toes curling, sighing, melting into his touch. Fucking hell. You're already wet, thighs trembling, hands curling his shirt into a ball, as he licks into your mouth.

   The beat of your heart sounds painfully loud in your eardrums. Every sound is fuzzy, staticky as if you're still on the phone. Your own groans almost sound distant, his sighs sound so soft. So content. It feels like the two of you have been dunked in molasses. Time has slowed down for both of you. Moving so slowly, tenderly. Almost as if you're starstruck lovers who have just one night to cherish each other. As if you've known each other's bodies forever but have never been allowed to explore them. It feels like a fragile spell, moving too quickly might break the magic and the devil will run home with his nefarious intentions long forgotten. His hand grips tighter for a moment before wandering down, palming and massaging your ass before picking up your legs and wrapping them around his waist. He takes the small change in stature to detach from your lips, both of you watching with glossy eyes as a thing string of saliva breaks. "You're beautiful (y/n)." A hoarse whisper, kind words from a man with a crass mouth. It makes you want to be feral, it makes you want to slow down. It makes you want everything. Nothing but him. He drives you to the brink of insanity with all these diametrically opposing wants and needs.

   A long low moan tumbles out of your lips at the feeling of his tongue gliding across the prominent vein of your neck before sinking his lips down. Soft petals of pinks and red appear in his wake, a trail of cherry blossoms in spring-time painted on your skin leading up to your ear before his teeth gently press down on your lobe. Shit. That feels way too good. Toes curling, fingers wrapping into his hair and his tongue tangles skillfully around your ear until suddenly he's off, his eyes boring back into your own as your breathing tries to slow back down. "Tell me what you want, (y/n). What do you want from me?"

   If any other man would have asked you that, with such a knife-sharp gaze, you surely would have clammed up. You've never been the vocal type. But you're too far lost in his eyes to care. There's a part of you that desperately hopes your own wants will please him, that he'll sink deeper with you into this chasm of pleasure with you. "I want to suck you off."

   The admission seems to catch him off guard for a moment, there's almost an innocence to the way he blinks back at you but that's gone quickly enough that you almost imagine if you really saw it or not. Replaced by a wolfish grin, desire bubbling across his features, infecting your skin, your core. As if the madness is catching. "Well well well. Who knew little Ms. Corporate had that in her? I can't say the idea of you on your knees hasn't been in my mind before. I also can't lie and say that it isn't one of the most exquisite things I've ever thought of. But I thought I told you that this was about you? About your pleasure? Are you sure that's what you want?" Your brain processes his words slowly, you're far too focused on his growing erection pressing against your inner thigh to think clearly and quickly.

   "I told you, Yoongi. I want you. I want you to lose yourself just as much as me." That's right, you want to watch him fall into pleasure just as you have. You want this madness, this desire, this sin to grip him tightly just as it has gripped you. You're greedy that way. And right now the greatest satisfaction you could receive is seeing him out of control, and you in it. You might be on your knees for him, but he'll be under your spell.

   You unlatch your legs slowly, trembling slightly as you lace your fingers through his and pull him along to your bedroom silently. All you can hear is the hum of the A/C and the sound of your shallow breathing when you push through the bedroom door and lead him to the edge of the bed. Before you can move, his hands are quickly pulling off your sweater and tugging down your leggings until you're left in just your underwear. "I'm not about to have you finally blow me and you're still dressed." His fingers gracefully move around your back, unlatching your bra and tossing it behind you. It's feverish, the look he sends you. All you can think of is that you want more. You want to see him look at you like that all day. As if you're the only woman he wants. As if he needs you. You can't even respond, too lost in the way he looks at you like he wants to devour you whole. So instead you move forward a step, tugging his t-shirt over his head and staring for a second at his bare skin.

   He has those skinny boy abs, the kind that you always felt weren't fair because it comes naturally from stupid fast metabolisms and not hard work. But you aren't going to complain right now, not when he looks so good and he's yours. All yours. Whatever this is, he made a deal, no one else. You can be as greedy as you want because he's just the same. You sink down onto your knees, your eyes locking onto his as you unbuckle his belt and toss it off to the side. You aren't sure if it's just your hopeful imagination or if you really do hear his breath catch in his throat as you slowly unzip his jeans before letting them fall to the floor. He's a briefs kind of guy, thank god. You've always hated how boxers look on men. He takes a moment to shuffle out of his pants completely before prying off his tight black briefs, and your mouth instinctively waters at the sight.

   He's thick, veiny, and you're happy to report that he keeps everything well-groomed. Thank god, no pubes will be stuck in your teeth tonight. Heat rises up to your cheeks at the way he looks at you with carnal anticipation. Suddenly you aren't so sure about all your earlier internal bravado about being the one to make him sink deeper into pleasure with you. He's looking at you like a predator stalking his prey. As if a meal has just presented itself to him on a silver platter. But you'll change that, you want nothing more than to watch that mask fall off. You want him to break. To fall. To tremble underneath your touch the way you shake with anticipation and euphoria under his watchful gaze.

   It's with an unwavering determination that you finally grasp his dick in your hand, staring up at him as you pepper soft kisses around his tip. He's salty, tangy, drooling with precum. Delicious. Sinful. Perfect. You refuse to move your gaze off of his eyes, you want to watch him. You want to see how he falls apart. It only takes one long lick from the base to the tip to start seeing the signs, the way his Adam's apple bobs and his gaze clouds over ever so slightly. It's minute, but it's there. God, you want him. More than you've ever wanted another person. Greedily, in hopes of breaking him, you pull him into your mouth. Inch by inch, until your nose is pressed firmly against his dark patch of hair and his hand is fast to wrap around your hair and grips you tightly until a slight sting can be felt in your scalp. You didn't know you were into that, but the sensation leaves your core throbbing. Aching. Shit. You pull back up, licking around the tip with one hand jerking in slow steady motions as the other one holds his balls in your palm. Rolling them gently until you finally dive back down. There's a dull ache in your jaw already, and you have to steady your breathing to take him whole. He's just long enough to reach past your uvula and activate your gag reflex if you aren't careful. But the way his thighs flex and the guttural groans you hear are enough to have you wanting more. It's beautiful, the way he unravels. Just for you. Only you. You made a deal with the devil after all.

   "Holy fuck, you're good at this." His head is tilted back, the veins on free arm popping as it curls into a fist. You can see a thin veil of sweat covering his chest and his breathing sounds uneven, small groans and grunts breaking the rhythm. It spurs you on, moaning slightly at the way his dick pulses and throbs in your mouth. "God, (y/n). You're too fucking hot. It's not fair, shit, how someone can look that good. You look like you were made to be on your knees, fuck. God, you don't even know how much I've thought about this. I've been like a goddamn high school kid, jerking off to the thought of you every night." You finally close your eyes, concentrating harder on his words and his dick. Shit, have you ever had a guy be this vocal before? It's such a turnon. God, you want him. You want him so badly you feel like you could burst. It's not fair, how even when he starts falling apart, his composure finally going out the window, you're just a bigger mess. Both mentally and physically. You feel like you could wring a gallon out of your panties, your thighs are already drenched. You can't remember the last time you were this wet. Have you ever been this wet? Fuck, what is Yoongi doing to you?

    His thighs tremble and flex in spasms, his groans increasing and you open your eyes back up to see his sight's back on you. He looks so fucked out, hair a mess and cheeks flushed. You wish you could take a picture of this. No man should be this pretty, it almost isn't fair. You can't help but moan as his hand yanks your head further down before his grip relaxes. "Shit, shit, sorry, but I'm going to, fuck, cum. So if you don't want it-" You manage to silence him by putting his hand back on your head and slacking your jaw. A silent permission to use it as he wants. He understands your nonverbal command instantly. He gives a dark chuckle as he shakes his head. "Fuck. You really are too good to me, (y/n)." He doesn't waste time, nor is he gentle. You aren't sure if he's too far gone to think about your gag reflex or if he doesn't care, but it would be a lie to say that it doesn't turn you on. The way he uses you, the way he loses himself in thoughts of nothing but the pleasure your mouth can bring him. It isn't long before he's unraveling, groans turn into the most beautiful moans you've ever heard. Husky, deep, feral. And then you finally taste it, thick sticky white ropes of his salty, tangy cum. He stills for a moment, groaning as he softens inside of you before pulling out slowly, watching intently as he smears cum across your lips. "Be a good girl and swallow for me."

   You blink up at him, pausing for a moment before pursing your lips and swallowing everything back as his thumb swipes the remnants from your lips before forcing it inside. This time you really can hear the hitch in his breath as your tongue swirls around the pad of his thumb before swallowing back again and opening your mouth up as if to show that all is clean. There's a dark chuckle from him, but the look in his eyes doesn't reflect that sentiment. He's looking at you fondly, warmly. As if you didn't just perform one of the lewdest acts of your life for him simply because it made you melt when he called you a good girl. "Well would you look at that, you really cleaned up, didn't you?" His words give you a thought, and you reach out impulsively to follow through with it. Your lips latch onto his now softening cock, licking gently, slowly so as to not overstimulate what's now very sensitive skin as you clean off every last drop. You can feel Yoongi squirm, his hands are quick to grab your hair again and pull you up to your feet with a force that has you moaning. He's certainly stronger than he looks. "Jesus Christ, you're going to be the fucking death of me."

   Before you can even think of responding his lips are on yours. Distantly, somewhere in your sex addled thoughts, you can feel some sick sense of euphoria at the thought of him tasting his own release on your tongue. He's so different from any other man you've ever had. When had sex stopped being fun and became a chore to keep your partner satisfied? You can't remember the last time you felt this much pleasure, this much satisfaction. And you haven't even been touched yet. Shit. You're in for a wild ride with Min Yoongi. "You know, for normally being a mouthy little thing you haven't said very much." You blink up at him, confused at the loss of contact with his mouth, instinctually seeking the warmth of his skin as you curl up closer to him for a moment. Truth be told you've never been very vocal. You aren't sure what to say, where to start. But you don't want to say that and get laughed at by him, or worse yet, called a prude. But then he shoots you that look, the one that feels like he can see straight to your soul and suddenly you're talking.

   "I've never been very vocal. It's embarrassing." You look away as you speak, your cheeks heating up at your admission. You wait for the laughter, for the teasing, but instead, all you feel is his hand cupping your chin and forcing you to look at him.

   "What's so embarrassing about having your partner know what you want? What you like? I want to please you, I want to watch you fall apart. I mean for christ's sake you just licked my cum off my dick without a second thought. As if it was the most natural thing in the world for you. It was the hottest goddamn thing I've ever seen. I want to make sure that you feel just as much pleasure. So tell me, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to eat you out? Finger you? Fuck you? How do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to ride me, do you want me to take you from behind, do you want me to take your ass, or fuck you raw? What exactly do you want?" His free hand ghosts over your body as he holds your face firmly in place. You can't look away, even if you wanted to. It's like he's put you under a spell. Fuck. God, you want him. More than you want anything else. If you were locked in a room with this man for an entire day you'd use every single second to explore his body, to have him explore yours.

   "I want you to eat me out." You're rewarded with a Cheshire cat grin, he looks like a villain who's just been handed the world. And suddenly your thoughts are running back to what he said on the phone. *'I'm not a good guy.'* God, why does that have you so hot and bothered all of sudden? It's like he was put on this earth just to wreck you.

   "Good girl, was that so hard?" Before you can respond he's pushing you onto the bed and prying your underwear off. "Jesus Christ, I don't think I've ever seen panties that wrecked before. Seems little Ms. Corporate enjoys being on her knees. Not that I'm complaining, I consider it an honor to see you enjoy something so filthy with me." You pull yourself up a bit on your arms to see him better, and you tighten at the sight of him prying your legs apart. He's looking at you like you're a delicacy, the finest meal that's ever been presented and he's a starving man. "Do you like that, do you like when I talk to you like this?"

   God, more than you ever thought you would. "Yeah." He chuckles, blinking up at you and shaking his head before hooking your legs over his shoulders and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

   "Another lukewarm response. Maybe I should just stop." He's teasing you, at least you're hoping he is. Because he's so close now, you can feel the warmth of his breath on your clit. But he isn't moving, he's just staying there. His eyes locked on yours as if waiting for more. Christ. He's waiting for you to respond. And you can tell by the amused look on his face that he could wait all night if need be.

   "I..." You pause, take a deep breath and close your eyes. It's too hard to say it while he's looking at you like that. "It turns me on when you tell me things like that."

   "Things like what?" Son of a motherfucker, he's really not going to let you off the hook. He's enjoying this way too much. Fucking sadistic little shit. But the annoyance has you riled up enough to be defiant, to say it.

   "I like it when you call me a good girl. I like it when you call me filthy. I like it when you praise me. I like it when you tell me what you want to do to me. It makes me feel wanted." You almost want to cry, it makes you feel so vulnerable to admit this to him. It's strange, how just moments ago you were so confident and now you suddenly feel so unsure. But when you finally open your eyes back up the look he's giving you makes everything feel alright. Like it's safe. It's safe to be honest with him. To be vulnerable. As if he'll protect you, hold you. You don't know if he actually will, but when he looks at you so tenderly, so lovingly, it's impossible to think that he won't. But it's the smile he gives you, all gums and pearly whites, that make it worth it. Christ, you're flying a million miles an hour on this emotional rollercoaster.

   "What a good girl. You are wanted, so wanted it's terrifying." Before you can even think about the meaning behind his words, the subtext in the empty spaces, his mouth is latched onto your clit. The sensation brings a jolt of electricity up your spine, your legs latching around his face as a long garbled moan drags out of your mouth. Shit, when's the last time you were touched like this?

   "Holy fuck." You can feel him smile, and the low chuckle he gives you reverberates through your body. You aren't sure what to focus on, the tantalizing image of his face buried in your wet heat or the sensation of his tongue as it moves in hungry circles around your clit. Just as you grow used to the dizzying, tingling feeling of his mouth you feel one finger slowly ease its way inside of you. It's odd, how frenzied his mouth is, but how gentle his fingers are. It's easy to sink into this feeling, to relax under his touch. God, he's good. Just as he works in a second finger you can feel yourself unraveling. "Oh my god, don't stop. Please, please don't stop." You've never cum this fast before, but the release is imminent. So close. Maybe it's because you've been so aroused for so long that even the slightest of touches turn you into a mess. You're just over the horizon, legs trembling around him and toes curling as needy whines leave your lips. His tongue moves faster, fingers scissoring into you until all you can see is blinding white. It's almost an out of body experience, everything feels too intense to process. Your body writhing under Yoongi, trying to fight his hold around your legs as your hips lift up and your moans tumble out one after another. It's blinding. Brilliant. It makes you feel whole again. As if all is right with the world when you're here underneath him. But maybe that's just your delirious post-orgasm brain talking.

   Somewhere, it almost feels like it's on another planet, you can hear Yoongi cooing, smiling as he looks down at you with your essence still smeared across his face and fingers still lodged deep inside your pussy. "What a good girl. Do you want to taste yourself?"

   You blink back up, still slightly out of sorts as you nod slowly before finally managing to say, "Yes, please." If you were more coherent you would have probably lost consciousness at the look Yoongi gives, drenched in desire. His nefarious intentions are written on his face. The epitome of deviancy. Sin incarnate. It feels so empty when his fingers pull out with a pop, and both of you watch with rapt attention as he pulls his fingers apart and watches the strings of your release break. God, you always thought he had beautiful fingers but it should be illegal for them to look that good while covered in your essence. You lean up on your forearms, opening your mouth and watching as his fingers slowly enter your mouth. You'd do this a thousand times if it meant getting to see that look on Yoongi's face, the way he watches you with complete and utter satisfaction. As if the only thing in the world he wants to see is you at your lewdest. The guttural groan that leaves his mouth sends waves of pleasure through you as his fingers leave your mouth with a pop.

   "Jesus, you really are going to be the death of me. Or that pretty little mouth of yours will be."

   "At least you'll die happy." You shrug, laughing at the glare he shoots you before giving you a gummy smile. It's odd how comfortable it is to be around him. As if everything is right with the world and the two of you aren't in the middle of outright debauchery that involves you consuming a hell of a lot of cum. It shouldn't be legal for him to give you such a warm and fuzzy smile.

   "Nah, I won't die happy until I've fucked you." He really is the king at giving you emotional whiplash. At this admission you look down to see that he's hard again, leaking precum once more. You've never thought a dick was pretty before, but his is. A dusty shade of pink, thick, twitching in the air with need. You can feel your own core pulse with need as you look at him. Fuck, you want him. More than you've ever wanted anything. Who knew you'd still be this greedy, this needy, after already achieving what was arguably the best orgasm of your life.

   "Then fuck me." The words come out of your mouth in a low timbre, each syllable dripping with want. Yoongi doesn't verbally respond for once, instead, he just repositions you, gently leaning your head against the pillow as he shuffles your thighs over his hips. You can feel the velvety soft tip of his cock tap against your clit, and the soft sensation has you sighing underneath him.

   "Are you sure that's what you really want babe?"

   "I want you to fuck me, Min Yoongi. Please, fuck me." For a moment he pauses, his Adam's apple bobbing. You swear that for a half-second he almost looks like he's contemplating everything as if he's questioning the validity of the situation before he's spitting into his palm and wetting his dick.

   "I won't be gentle. That's not in my vocabulary."

   "I don't want you to be gentle. I want you to fuck me, make me see stars." You reach out to touch his cheek, your hand wandering down his chest for a moment before gripping his dick in your own hand and guiding it to your greedy entrance. He watches for a second before taking over, snapping his hips into yours and sliding in all the way in one go. The burn is tantalizing, the stretch leaves you feeling utterly full and before you can even think of relaxing fully into it he's snapping his hips again.

   "Well Ms. Corporate, you can't say I didn't warn you. I want to see you beg, cry, scream my name. I want to see you fall apart on my cock, over and over again tonight." He emphasizes by picking up pace, his hips smacking against your skin with loud thwacks. It's disorienting, tantalizing, the way he fucks into you. Each time he's fully inside you you can almost touch the stars. You swear his dick is made of magic, the way it takes you out of your own overgrown thoughts and into the present. All you can think of is him, of the pleasure he brings you. It's like your nerves are on fire, it's almost pathetic how quickly you melt underneath him. Teeth clacking, his name spilling out in a broken mantra of whines and moans. Thank god he said he wanted strings attached because all you can think of is that once won't be enough with him. Shit, you're pretty sure you could fuck him every day and you'd still want more. So greedy, so needy. Just for him. Only for him. The devil has you in his crosshairs, but you don't want to leave. "Look at you, already falling apart." Such crass praise. You can feel yourself pulse around him at his words, and the moan that leaves him has your back arching. You wish you could turn his moans into a song, you'd play it on repeat. Such a beautifully filthy sound.

   You can feel another release looming over you when he picks your hips up and fucks into you harder. Christ, how does he have the stamina for this? Not that you're complaining. "Yoongi I'm going to, fuuuuck, right there, keep going, right, fuck!" Somehow he seems to understand your garbled incoherent rambling, because he grins down as he fucks into you harder, pulling you into a heated kiss that you try hard to reciprocate in between broken moans. It's electric. It burns you up from the inside out. It raises goosebumps across your flesh and has your eyes rolling the back of your head as you writhe around him. If Yoongi wanted to ruin you then he's already won. You're positive that sex will never feel this good with anyone else. He slows down for just a moment, fucking into you shallowly as you try to get your breathing back to normal. It's hard to do anything though, you feel like you're floating on a cloud. As if your consciousness is only barely connected to your physical body.

   "You still with me, babe?" You can't even look up at him, it takes a painful amount of effort to just nod. You can hear his own groans and grunts better with your eyes closed. What a sinful symphony, skin against skin, mewls of pleasure from two lovers, or at the very least strings attached deal makers, lost in the throes of passion. He twists you underneath him until you're on all fours, shakey legs barely keeping you up and arms failing as your face plants into the pillow and your ass hangs in the air. He gives one test swat to your ass, and your scream of satisfaction and clenching pussy must be the answer to his unsaid question because his hand comes down harder this time. Surely leaving a pink park in its wake, and before you can process a third loud smack rings through the air. Jesus christ mother mary, you could drown a man right now with how wet he has you. Before you can even say anything he's fucking into you again, taking you from behind as his hands twist into your hair and pull you up until your back is flush to his chest. The sting in your scalp has you clenching around him, you're a mewling drooling mess at this point. And you're too far gone to care, euphoria is the only thought on your mind.

   "You've been such a good girl for me. Do you think  you can cum again, do you want to cum all over my cock for me?" A stuttered yes hangs in the air for just a moment before his mouth latches onto your neck and his hand leaves your hair to tug at one taught nipple while the other dives lower until it's rubbing circles around your clit. Yoongi isn't the only one who would die happy after this, but you can't seem to get the words out. Shit, you can't seem to get any words out. It's taking everything in you to just breathe at this point. Every sensation is too much for you to handle, you're far too sensitive after your last orgasm but you're greedy. You want more. You want to please, you want nothing more than to be good for him. Especially if that means that you'll find only the greatest of pleasures in the process. This third and final orgasm has you spasming, bucking against his chest as broken cries wail out in unison with his own sweet groans of pleasure. God, you wish you weren't in this position, you wish you could keep your eyes open. You wanted to see his face when he came, but then again, there'll be a next time. Won't there? All yours after all. Greedy. You never thought you'd be this greedy.

   You can still feel him bucking into you shallowly before finally moving you back onto a pillow and pulling out carefully. You can feel exhaustion seeping deep into your bones. It takes more effort than you want to admit just to roll over and look up at Yoongi, but it's worth the exertion to see his face. His pale skin is flushed to a pretty petal pink and shining with a thin sheen of perspiration, damp hair sticking to his forehead and his eyes are glazed over in a state of numb content. Handsome doesn't really fit him, he's more pretty you would say. Beautiful really. But you won't say that. You figure most dudes wouldn't take too kindly to being called something so feminine.  So instead you just watch him quietly, drink in the sight of him as he ruffles his hair and shuffles over to your bathroom to clean up. He has a surprisingly nice ass. Christ, you really do like everything about him.

   "Do you have any baby wipes?" His voice sounds hoarse, and a part of you wants to get up and grab a cup of water for him but you're too tired to move.

   "Yeah, in the cupboard closest to the toilet I think I should have some." You hear him rummaging around before he comes out with one wipe and silently cleans you up. It feels oddly domestic, and somehow that makes you feel more awkward than when you were having sex. Christ, you've never been good at these kinds of things. But when you look at Yoongi, the way he just hums to himself as he wipes away any last remnants that have trickled onto your thighs, it's hard to not have your heart melt. He's like the human form of catnip for you, everything feels upside down and yet strangely addictive with him around. "Thanks. Are you going to spend the night?"

   He pauses for a moment, his movements halting and his eyes not meeting your own. That's okay, you're used to this. You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up. "If you're okay with that, that would be nice. But I tend to sleep late, I don't want to bother you if you have to get up early."

   Well, that certainly wasn't what you were expecting. You can't help but blink up at him, words failing before manic uncontrollable giggles come tumbling out of you. You finally manage to stop long enough to wipe some stray tears out of the corner of your eyes before finally responding. "Nah, I set my own hours, we're good."

   You watched him take you in curiously, a small flicker of a smile ghosting his lips before he turned around to rummage through his jeans and grab a lighter and cigarette, about to light up before he turns around and raises an eyebrow, a silent question.

   "Go ahead, but I don't have any ashtrays so you can use a cup or something." You point to the empty water cup by your bed before slipping under the covers, watching him take a deep drag and shut his eyes. The silence would probably feel unbearable with anyone else, but for some reason, it's soothing with him. You have absolutely no clue what you've gotten yourself into with him. Strings firmly attached to whatever the fuck this is, as per his rules. And yours too. You did agree. You want to break this all down, pick it apart and analyze this entire rendezvous piece by piece to make sense of it. You've never been this type of girl before. Impulsive, brash, hedonistic, quick. That's the only way you can describe this. No you were always slow to act, but quick to think until Min Yoongi snarked his way into your heart. And yet it feels so right. Shit. What does that mean? You wish you could think about this more, but the moment you feel his long fingers brushing your hair soothingly you're lulled into sleep.

   That night you dream of his lips on yours, sweaty skin sticking to sheets and the orchestral sound of his groans mixing with slick skin hitting skin. Christ, you're so screwed. Having sex with him isn't enough, not even in your dreams. You aren't sure why he's so all-consuming, but one thing is for certain: he isn't the only one with nefarious intentions.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Family Fights - chapter One

Summary: Even the strongest bond, the most loving family, can be broken by nightmares, and the librarian is soon to learn this. As she learns sinister things about a person who she had thought was lost forever, she realizes she will need the help of another witch to get her family back.

Notes: This is a repost. When I re read the first chapters of this fic to write the third, I realized that it was packed with grammatical errors and that the pacing was terrible. Unfortunately, I can’t (or at least i don’t know how to) edit posted chapters on ao3, but I can at least re-post a slightly better version of the chapters here.

Also, the images I used for the header are from Pinterest.

As soon as she heard those children speaking, Maven knew what they needed. Why of course she did. How could she not? How could she not recognize the creatures who had taken the person she loved the most from her at the mere mention of them? So she threw them the book. Obviously, she knew exactly where it was, having read it so many times. She schooled her features to look like a welcoming smile instead of a triumphant grin like she wanted. <em>She would finally find her,</em> Maven though as she let the ladder slide through the rows of books. That new girl, Hilda, she was a peculiar one. Always seemed to find a way to get herself in trouble. She was a kind person, it seemed, making friends with two of the greatest misfits in town. Maven always saw them alone, so she was pretty relieved to see they had made a new friend. But it wouldn’t matter if Hilda was the most awful kid in Trollberg. Because tonight, she’d be helping Maven find Myra. Tonight, she’d be helping Maven find her sister.

She kept a close eye to the trio, not daring to go too far away from them. She could continue shelving books later, she thought. Not soon after she gave them the book, she saw them leaving, and her heart began beating louder on her chest. After making sure there were no other patrons at the library, which was a depressingly common occurrence, she changed the cape she favored while in the library for a black coat, pulling the hoodie over her face. When she locked the building, she could still see the three kids turning around the corner. She quickened her pace, knowing her best chance to find her sister was following the loathsome creature the children were hopefully leading her to. Her heart beat wildly on her chest, but her steps were as quiet as the breeze messing with her short hair. She had planned to dye it again tonight, the purple beginning to show at the roots again, but that would have to wait. When Maven turned into Robin Street, she saw the children entering a corner house she could remember passing by during her midnight wanderings around the town. Ah, so that’s where the victim lived. Maven took her time memorizing where she was, before running back to the library. No use in just waiting there until dusk, and she didn’t want to put her beloved job at risk. When she arrived at the old building once more, she threw herself on the chair behind the circulation desk, and smiled though still panting from the run. Just a few more hours, she thought. _#_#_#_

The time seemed to drag itself. Three hours had never seemed so long. With each minute, her anxiety got stronger, messing with her mind until she couldn’t even concentrate in her books. But finally, finally the time came. She locked the library with shaking hands, beads of sweat forming on her brow despite the chilly night, and she made her way as quickly as she could to the house. Everything was silent when she arrived at the place, so she settled herself under a tree at the other side of the street, the best spot to see what was happening and going by unnoticed at the same time. As the moon rose in the sky, she let her mind wander to the time when she was a teen and her sister an innocent child. The time when they’d help their mother cast spells together, the time when Maven taught her how to cleanse her crystals and the whole family would do rituals under the same moon she was under now. The time where her sister didn’t think witches were freaks, that they were weak for avoiding doing harm, that she disowned the family traditions, seeking to be more powerful than they’d ever allow her. Before tears could begin running down Maven’s pale face, the sound of a car took her away from her thoughts. It parked in front of the house she had been watching, and she observed with interest as Johanna, a very kind and smart woman she had met by chance at a coffee shop not long before, got out of the vehicle not with her daughter, but with the boy she’d thought she’d been watching. Her legs itched to get into the house and try to understand what the hell was going on, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t left to her  agony for long, however, as just a few minutes later, a thick green smoke flew through the front door’s key hole. Maven was on her feet immediately, running after the green cloud for all she was worth. She ran through block after block, her breathing loud to her own ears. When finally she reached the gates to the Huldrawoods, she lifted her fingers to the lock and muttered a simple enchantment, the iron giving away to her magic smoothly. She thanked every deity she knew of when she entered and the cloud of smoke was still visible, even in the dark of night and cover of the woods. She’d searched through every last inch of that forest, and now knew that, without being guided by one of them, she’d never find the place where the Marra met. She usually tried to keep the spell using to a minimum, her mother having been very persistent in highlighting that magic always ate away at your energy, but any price was worth finding her sister, so she muttered yet another enchantment under her breath and suddenly her steps were soundless. A smile ,albeit a nervous one, adorned her lips when a flash of green lights reached her eyes though the trees, and the closer she got, the better she could see a camping-like formation: a few logs had been put around a fire, and girls sat on top of them. “And then, the bike began riding itself! And the stupid girl couldn’t control it! Her face was hilarious when her friends rode away from her, mocking her!” A high pitched voice said, and the whole circle laughed. Maven covered her mouth so they wouldn’t hear her gasp. As they laughed, their eyes became green, and between the sea of cruel features, she found an all too familiar face. Her straight, light violet hair had been dyed completely black, her long fringe being partially held by a barrette. She was wearing the same denim coat with cotton in the neckline as the day she’d been abducted, the day Maven though she’d lost a piece of her heart she’d never recover again. And she didn’t look like a prisoner. She wasn’t bound by her wrists, forced to listen to the Marra’s perverted acts against her will, or being a guinea pig for new scarring tactics.

She hadn’t been taken because she’d grown bitter and those horrid beings saw her as a perfect victim, Maven realized, baring her teeth in anger.

She had been taken because, in her bitterness, sister had become one of them.

Maven stood up abruptly, making the bush she was hiding behind shake and attracting of the attention of the whole group to herself. But it wouldn’t matter if she had a bloody troll threatening her in that moment. In that moment, she would have a conversation with her sister.

“Myra Underhill” Maven all but hissed as all of the freaky teenagers gasped at the sight of the intruder, and Myra became even more pale than usual as every gaze fell on her. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

The initial shock at the appearance of her older sister washed away from her face, as she let the Marra persona dominate her once more, lifting her confidence. “I don’t go by that surname anymore. I don’t go by any surname, in fact.” She smiled mockingly.

It didn’t take a witch to feel the anger burning inside Maven. Two years. Two years she thought her sister had been abducted. Two years she thought she had failed in her promise to her father to protect her sister. One year their mother had left her for good, leaving her to think she was alone in the world.

And Myra didn’t even care.

“That’s not how family works, sweetie” She said with a loathing in the old endearment. “You can’t just throw it away when you decide you’re too good for them.”

When Myra opened her mouth to speak, the other Marra, who had been telling the story before the interruption decided to come into the conversation. “And who would you be, exactly?” She said with mocking sympathy. “And what on Earth is up with you? You look like a witch!” She laughed in disdain.

Maven stood her ground. “I’m Myra’s sister.” She looked at her old best friend in the eye, making sure she’d feel the next sentence on her soul. “Or at least I used to be. And to your information, yes, I am a witch. And unlike that treacherous viper, I’m proud of it.”

More gasps of surprise. “You’re a witch?” The girl sitting next to Myra, one with short caramel hair and round glasses cried.

“N-no, of course I’m not! They’re pathetic! I- I mean, I was born a witch, but they are just too boring and weak, and that’s why I left them!” She tried to explain nervously.

“Well, in that case” the first girl, with two ridiculous blond piggy tails, who seemed to be the leader of the group got up. “You are threatening one of ours. Leave immediately-“ she stood face to face - or the closest she could get to that, being so much shorter than the librarian - to Maven, looking as scary as she could in her teenager form. “Or face the consequences.”

“I am NOT leaving without my sister!”

The infuriating girl raised one blond eyebrow. “That’s what we’ll see.”

Something hard hit Maven’s neck from behind. And as the world got darker, and the floor got closer, she could not resist succumbing into a deep sleep.

[sunshineandfangs]

Klarosummer - Quote || Abhang Samsāra

Quote: “Farmers markets aren’t just for hippies.”

@klarosummerbingo​

Caroline suppressed a groan, feeling the start of a headache merrily pounding away behind her temples and brow. And she wondered what she had done in a past life to deserve this.

I’ve gone native, she thought wryly, amused despite herself, for she knew exactly what she had done in her past lives. And quite frankly she didn’t think she deserved this dudebro lingering in her space, having been attempting to flirt and talk himself up (both badly) at the same time for what had to be almost 30 minutes now.

“-thought hippies were more wild,” he sneered, apparently finally catching on that she hadn’t been paying even a lick of attention.

Caroline blinked, honestly not sure what he was even talking about or if it was somehow supposed to be an insult. She barely refrained from rubbing her forehead as she started to respond, staring him dead in the eye so he could properly appreciate just how few fucks she gave about him.

“Look, I’m not sure what logic you’re attempting here, but it sucks. First of all, farmers markets aren’t just for hippies. They’re a way for smaller producers to advertise and sell products, and they’re good for the local community.” She watched with rightful schadenfreude as his eyes started to glaze over. “Secondly, whether they do or do not attract a larger than average population of hippies has nothing to do with your success or rather lack thereof with getting a girl to hop on your tiny dick.” Caroline let herself smirk as his jaw dropped in shock, an angry and embarrassed flush creeping up his face.

He spluttered, trying to defend himself, but she just talked over him. Karma, really. “Finally, those “wild, free-spirited hippies” or however you’re stereotyping them probably have even less time for your bullshit. So, do yourself a favor and just go home before someone less tolerant than me decides to shut you up.” She waved him off, turning to the next customer, “You have a nice day now.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the boy open and close his mouth like a dying fish, outraged but too dumbstruck to know how to react. The man she had shifted to greet apparently lost his own patience as he turned to face the boy.

“Off you go,” he mocked. 

And she rose an eyebrow at the docile obedience, sensing the light flare of power. A vampire? How interesting.

He pivoted back to face her with a charming grin to hide the hunting expression in his eyes.

“Quite the sharp tongue you have, love.”

She wondered what he wanted, sensing he wasn’t seeking something as basic as blood. Her ponderings were expertly masked though as she simply raised an eyebrow in response.

“Hmm, and my tolerance has already been worn down, so please buy something or leave.” Her smile was bland, even as she watched barely concealed ire enter his eyes.

---

Klaus wasn’t sure if he wanted to admire the young blonde’s audacity or choke it out of her. It had certainly been a long time since someone dared speak to him with such dismissal. 

She hardly knew his identity though and he’d rather she stayed precisely where she was. So, he turned up the charm, letting his smile deepen the dimples on his face. Cocked his head just so, to draw her eyes down the smooth lines of his neck, across the open collar of his Henley.

“Of course, sweetheart, I’m sure your time is valuable.”

---

He was good. 

The dimples, the accent, the seemingly innocent head tilt. Even his apparent polite concession after she had been more rude than not. Had she truly been just the 22 year old she appeared to be, he would have likely gotten her hook, line, and sinker.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t.

Thus, her reaction was perfectly polite, but distant as she gestured with her arm toward her collection of binned produce. “Please, take your pick then.”

---

Klaus made a show of rifling through the various baskets of fruits, subtly flirting all the while. He was both impressed and offended when she didn’t respond at all, maintaining a polite façade, but no more. 

Thanks to his minions he knew she was at least partially attracted to men, probably entirely based on her dating history, so it wasn’t that. Not that he needed her to like him, but it would certainly make it less suspicious to linger. And considering everything that was at stake he was hardly going to leave such a task up to the help.

He decided to make a more blatant pass, peered up at her through his lashes, slightly bent over a crate of strawberries. Ensured his accent was a bit deeper when he spoke.

“Ah, apologies, I realize I haven’t introduced myself. Please, call me Klaus. May I have the name of my lovely, sharp-tongued vendor?”

---

Internally, Caroline marveled at her luck. Realized he must have been what drew her soul to Mystic Falls. Not every life had dramatic purpose or whatever one wanted to call it, but it was rare she would appear somewhere so obscure without the hand of destiny being at work.

And now Klaus of The Sun and Moon Curse was at her metaphorical door. Well then, she might as well catch him off guard now, while the effort to mass compel people would hopefully be more work than he wanted to exert.

“Klaus,” she repeated, rolling the syllables across her tongue, wondering how things were about to change. “If even half the rumors I’ve heard of you are true, I’m quite certain you already know it. After all someone like you wouldn’t be lingering if not for a purpose, am I right?”

---

Klaus’ expression instantly hardened, his mind racing at this unexpected reveal. None of the reports he had received indicated the girl was at all aware of the supernatural, let alone informed enough to have heard of him. 

Of course, he knew about the so-called council, with their sworn duties to protect the town against vampires. But the good sheriff showed no indication she had ever told her daughter a thing. And the girl herself had seemed as ordinary as they come, a bit overachieving perhaps being on a startling number of committees, but normal. Too human even, seeing as she returned from college to take care of her sick mother.

“I must admit it’s been a long time since someone surprised me, Caroline.” As he spoke he let menace seep into his voice, hoping she wasn’t going to make him chase her.

It would be troublesome to deal with the fallout of such a spectacle, but he would if she pushed him. This chance would not slip through his fingers.

---

Caroline’s wariness spiked as she caught the look in his eyes. She’d have to be more careful. Whatever had brought him here must be more important than she thought, if it put such a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Well,” she started carefully, “I have to admit to my own surprise. I wouldn’t think a tiny town like this one would be of any interest to you.”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, you’re quite correct about that, sweetheart. I could not care less about this place.”

It was a warning and threat all rolled into one, daring her to test his resolve. Caroline wasn’t particularly attached to this place, but she did love her mother. And she wasn’t so cruel as to go out of her way to condemn the residents to be the gruesome aftermath of an immortal’s rage.

She pursed her lips. “You’ve made your point, Klaus, I won’t make a scene. Just tell me what your want. I’m not going to indulge in some kind of sick game with you.”

“Good thing I’m not playing, sweetheart. Now, you’ll make your excuses to leave, and then you’ll come with me. If I catch even a hint of duplicity your mother will be the first to suffer my wrath.” His smirk was a monstrous thing to behold. “Obey me and I’ll permit you to visit her under my careful watch.”

She already knew she would go with him, quite assured he’d carry through with his threats, though she was also quite confused. What use was she to him? Had he learned the truth of her, wanted to use her knowledge for something?

Caroline nodded to him, hurried to excuse herself from the market and felt his gaze burning a hole in her back as she did so. When she returned to his side, a warning hand settled on the small of her back. The two of them appearing as some happy couple rather than abductor and captive.

“What do you want from me, Klaus?” She whispered as he helped her into his car. The manners seeming ridiculous considering everything.

He didn’t respond immediately, situating himself in the driver’s seat and backing out of the space. He stayed silent as he drove and she figured he wasn’t going to answer when he finally did.

“There’s a rather pesky curse I want to break, love. Several years ago I thought my chances were ruined, but as it turns out,” he glanced over at her a covetous expression on his face, “you’re my missing piece.”

Understanding flooded her. She had heard that The Sun and Moon Curse required a Doppelgänger, creatures born of Silas’ and Amara’s tampering. Her circumstances were different though, and never had she cursed her consistent appearance more. Not even when it had caused immense trouble during the times she had been born to parents that looked nothing like her.

See, despite the surface level similarities she was not a Doppelgänger. Her blood didn’t carry the magic he needed.

Caroline suppressed a ragged sigh. She was going to have to be the one to inform him of his mistake. Not something she was looking forward to. What had she done to deserve this again?

She closed her eyes, deciding to wait until they were out of a multi-ton moving vehicle to be the barer of bad news. ...Still, what did a being such as her fear of death? Innumerable millennia and innumerable lives, even Klaus was nothing in the face of that. 

---

Author’s note: The title today is Hindi/Sanskrit for “Unbroken Cycle.” Admittedly it doesn’t have much connection to India beyond the utilization of the ideas of reincarnation, which while not exclusive to Hinduism and Buddhism, are obviously very prevalent. Meanwhile the word Samsāra in and of itself is quite tied to the idea of reincarnation.