#how dare he continue to exist that motherfucker

[bleach-your-panties]

Sincember Event❄️❄️

Rating: Fluff🍥

Shinji Hirako has a big crush on you.

Ever since he saw you at the induction meeting where you were appointed the new taichou of squad thirteen.

Dare he say it, you may be the only person in existence to make Shinji Hirako feel shy.

He can’t help himself, though; you're just so cute! 

The moment you walk into a room, all eyes fall to you. 

Stylish, graceful-

Overall ethereal.

How can he ever garner the courage to talk to you? 

Well, that was when the other Visoreds came in-

But of course their advice was less than savory, per usual-

“Stop being a pussy and just talk to them.” Love, Kensei

“You should just give up, they'd never entertain an uncouth savage such as yourself.” Rose

“It’s more daring and romantic if you make the first move. Trust me, I've read the books.” Lisa

“You're a lovely person. Just be yourself. “ Hachi

“Just go right up to them and give them a big smooch! That'll surely get you noticed!” 

Mashiro, what?

“What did you just say?” Shinji narrowed his already slanted eyes at the greenette.

“I said to kiss them! It'll be cute and show that you really like them!”

“Pretty sure that’s sexual harassment.” Lisa mumbled while thumbing through the pages of her manga.

“Right. I can’t just go up to them and kiss them; they might kick my ass! Then I’ll be the laughing stock of the entire Seireitei!”

“Aren’t you already that, though?” Hiyori finally chimed in, having just rejoined the group after running an errand for Kurotsuchi-taichou.

Shinji scowled at her, but she continued with her thought process, 

“They should be coming to the annual Christmas party this Sunday. Make your move then, or just shut up about it altogether.”

“Swear you motherfuckers get on my nerves.” He mumbled underneath his breath. 

“Care to repeat that?” Hiyori raised a blonde eyebrow and Lisa’s head snapped around in his direction. 

“Nothing. I said I’ll be there.” 

—-

Shinji began looking for you immediately upon entering the party.

His lips tilted up into his signature grin when he saw you by the punch bowl conversing animatedly with Shunsui and Nanao.

Just as he was about to approach you, a random shinigami came up and joined in the conversation, tugging incessantly on the sleeve of your top.

‘Ugh! Seriously?! This is not going to work. I have to find a way to get their attention. Think, Shinji, think!’ 

His earthy-colored eyes scanned the room, searching for some type of opening or distraction.

A mistletoe.

The little green shrub with white berries dusted with white paint to make it look like snow had fallen upon it. A bright red ribbon strung it from the ceiling right above your head.

‘Well, I guess you can’t get any more cliche than that. Lisa is going to have a field day with this.’ 

Puffing out his chest, Shinji strode forward and began walking towards the table where all the food was set out. 

Just as he was merely inches from being able to brush his fingers against your sleeve, something caught around his foot and he went sailing up into the air.

A few sharp gasps of surprise and then loud snickers flooded his ears as he hung mercilessly upside down from the ceiling by his ankle.

No one could have been as surprised as you were, though. You quickly rushed to the blonde’s aid and cupped his face between your soft hands.

“Hirako! Are you alright?!”

Shinji’s cheeks blushed a million shades of pink, but he simply nodded. From this angle, he had a perfect view of your pouty lips and before his overbearing thoughts could stop him, he pressed forward and connected his with yours.

It was quick and a bit rushed due to the swaying caused by his current predicament, but you were slow to pull away, cupping his chin and pulling his mouth back onto yours repeatedly.

A chorus of whoops and cheers finally broke you both out of your little moment and you could see Mashiro, Hiyori, and Lisa standing off to the side with satisfied smirks on their faces.

“Drastic times call for drastic measures.” Hiyori laughed.

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ🫶🏽

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Hey you know that post you made about the omega uprising? Can you please tell us how Germany, Russia and America would “fight to the death” against the omegas? God I never thought I’d ever think of that sentence let alone write it lmao. You’re writing is awesome by the way 😩

Thank you 🥹 I hope you enjoy this one.

Okay, TW for all of you, this one gets violent and has mentions of death so if that’s too much, then please skip this one.

America 🇺🇸

“Fuck if it’s a fight these bitches want, then it’s a fight they’ll get.” He readies his machine gun.

Holding back will not be a thing for him. He’s going to be strapped to the teeth. Even though he’s fully surrounded by the Omegas and Betas on all sides and alone, his pride will not allow him to surrender. He loathes that very idea.

His current mantra is “Live free or die trying.”

Alfred was surrounded by an enclosing circle of omegas who’d come from the undergrounds. They were the outcasts who didn’t behave, deemed not pretty enough, anything that didn’t fit perfectly into the mold of being ‘perfect’ within the extremely rigid society. They were tired of always being under the boot of haughty Alpha’s like Alfred. After all the abuse and servitude, they had had enough. It was time to act… It was time to attack.

Alfred was the first to open fire. Hundreds of bullets shot out into the tense air ignited by the nitrocellulose, causing the combustion. Some omegas fell to the ground with audible thumps with blood beginning to paint it. Others who weren’t in his direct line of fire made their way closer to him. One omega had managed to jump on his back and was almost successful in stabbing him in the neck. Alfred rips them from his person before they can land their fatal blow. He loses control of his machine gun in the process.

Loose bullets still managed to injure a few others; however, some Omegas and Betas had their shields up. They were defending their injured and picking up their dead.

Although Alfred was strong and able to keep most from dog piling on him, more and more poured in at the same time, and he was no match for all the bullets and blades that pieced every inch of his body.

Life faded quickly from the former Alpha leader. Once they stopped, they took his corpse to a bonfire and watched as he now became nothing more than a memory.

Germany 🇩🇪

The warehouse he was in still only had a bit of sunlight left. His heavy boots sounded loud against the concrete floor. The German man was frustrated with the fact that the Omegas from the undergrounds & the outskirts had put up this much of a fight.

“Diesen frech Fotze. Omegas.” (These insolent motherfuckers. Omegas.)

“Du musst in den Spiegel sehen Ficker!” (You have to look in the mirror FUCKER!)

One of the Omegas spat out from somewhere in the shadows. Ludwig flinched at the response and drew his pistol. A sudden bullet was fired from above. It managed to graze Ludwigs ear. He quickly turned to see a 4”2 tall Omega wielding a hunter's rifle. Its scope was up, and it was ready to claim its target.

“If you want to live. I suggest you surrender now. Other than that you’ll have no choice but to die.” She jumped down from the shadows. Then two more, then five, then thirteen until all of them revealed themselves from their hiding places.

Ludwigs' frown deepens on his face. He cracks his neck in anticipation for the impending assault. He looks the leader dead in the eyes who dared to attempt his life.

“Scheiße.” He reaches in his pocket to grab the smoke bomb and swiftly detonates it. Buying him a few moments more on this plane of existence.

Ludwig was actually hoping he didn’t have to continue to use brute force & kill as many as he did in the last few places he’d been. Ludwig simply wanted to quell the rebellion, prosecute the leaders, and think of ways to prevent something like this from happeing again. However, after weeks of fighting it was obvious the omegas and betas had their resolve and backing down wasn’t anoption for them.

Death or Freedom was their mantra.

As smoke filled the room, Ludwig tried to escape, but to no avail. A sharp pain hit his lower left calf, and he let out a pained shriek. The Omegas had come prepared. Their high-tech visor goggles and breathing apparatus protected their eyes and lungs, all thanks to some of the Beta engineers who were also on the outskirts with them.

“Auf Wiedersehen, Alpha.” The lead Omega takes a direct shot between his eyes and shoots Ludwig several times, leaving his brain with as many holes as Swiss cheese.

The last bit of sun had faded into the navy sky as the group dragged his corpse to an industrial wood chipper. Relief and joy were all that could be felt as Ludwigs' body was torn limb from limb.

“Endlich, der Albtraum ist tot.” (Finally the nightmare is over)

Russia 🇷🇺

“How adorable this little uprising is cute but it must end, da?”

He smashed another Omegas skull in. The light from them quickly vanished. Ivan prepares himself for yet another wave from the rebels. Admittedly, he was exhausted. He simply wanted their unconditional surrender & accept the fact that the way society was set up was already perfect.

He continued through the forest, searching for the underground entrance to where some of the leaders would be. As he moved forward through the trees, an arrow whizzed past his arm and struck a tree ahead of him.

“Damn it. These Omegas don’t give up.”

A flurry of more arrows, bullets, & molotov cocktails were hurled his way. Ivan runs behind one of the trees for cover, only to be greeted by hundreds more Omegas and Betas that are armed and ready to eliminate him.

“Fuck.” Ivan grabs his gun to shoot at them and hold off this latest wave. He uses his other hand to wield his trusted metal pipe. Once again, Ivan began batting off the projectiles and omegas like baseballs being shot from a rapid-fire pitching machine.

However, Ivan was beginning to run out of steam. His movements slowed, and his hits did not pack as much punch. The lactic acid that had built up in his muscles was becoming too intense to bear.

An omega, along with a few others, sensed that Ivan was finally reaching his end. He had no more bullets. An opportunistic fighter kicked the now useless weapon out of his hand. A sudden rush of blaring pain surged through Ivan's pipe-wielding hand. He grunts in pain.

“Capture him now!” It only took seconds for them to swarm. They shot him in both of his thighs and tied up his arms.

“March Alpha scum!” They all say in unison. There were several guns pointed at his back. He did as they said. He knew there was no point in trying to fight back anymore. Ivan was going to leave with his tiny shred of dignity. Against the pain, he sluggishly moved forward.

The group made it to the hidden lake, tied hefty cinder blocks to his arms and feet, and loaded onto a small boat with a small team. When they reached the middle of the briskly cold and murky lake, he was forced to stand and be at the edge.

“Hope you like your watery grave.”

After that, there was nothing more than a loud splash, and bubbles were abundant until they came to a complete stop.

[saintsr]

Chapter  II

 

 “Missa!”  The three remaining figures appeared, breaking the people who were there out of their stupor.

 

 “Where is Missa you fucking idiot?”  Spreen pulled the sword from him and grabbed the man closest to him by the throat.

 

 “Their leader no longer exists, so it’s their decision, they tell us or they die.” Shaudone raised his voice without shouting, looking at everyone.

 

 “I say they have to be tortured, if they hurt Missa, death will be a mercy.” Spreen’s eyes turned golden with red edges full of anger.

 

 “Yes, let’s hang them by their balls or their feet.”

 

 “No-we don’t know but it’s good that it happened, they deserved it because they were selfish” the man that Spreen was holding finally spoke.

 

 “The Gods are supposed to help humans” a woman fearfully pointed her bow and arrow trying to aim at Quackity’s head.

 

 “We do not owe them anything and with this, your land will not have crops until we find the lesser Demeter.” A thin but strongly built figure with brown or platinum blonde hair spoke, making the young woman faint, causing all the people to flee when the man who Spreen said he was killed by a sword through his heart.

 

 “Rubius” Quackity finally spoke with a trembling voice as he saw a blood stain on the floor and Missa’s wolves trying to dig a hole.

 

 “I know, Quackity” Rubius and Quackity looked at each other in fear and anger for whoever dared to hurt his little baby Persephone.

 

 “Let’s make everyone shit, let’s burn the earth, let the water not reach anyone, let it rain blood on everyone” Shaudone looked with anger and disgust at the woman on the ground trying to control him powers so as not to do something against him vows .

 

 “Calm down kid, I’m the first to ask for blood but we need information” Rubius put a hand on Shaudone’s shoulder while he pulled him towards where the wolves and Spreen were.

 

 “Let’s separate, we’ll cover more ground, any clue, come to the house,” Spreen finally spoke after putting a leash on the wolves, giving them to Rubius and Shaudone.

 

 “I don’t want to go back if Missa isn’t there, oh my Missa, my Missa maybe he’s cold in any ditch, maybe he’s already stiff or maybe he’s cold, he’s running from everyone and I can’t get him a blanket or”

 

 “Shut up, Quackity, otherwise you want us to hang you by the balls.”

 

 “But I can still hear him say Quackity, Quackity, get out of my kitchen, asshole!”  He continued to lament until he saw the other Demeteres disappear “Where are they going?  “Assholes, Sons of your motherfucker, come hear my cries, at least a few kisses or a grab of the buttocks to overcome the pain.”  With that the earth was left lifeless, without sacred blood and two bodies, one lifeless, the other fainted.

 

 In the Kingdom of Philza, he was in a place he called “The Nest” which was the Palace of Hades, the central place where the underworld was controlled, the crows were perched on the windowsills of the castle trying to see what was inside.

 

 Tubbo was following Philza since he saw him flying at full speed with something in his arms, so he tried to continue, but he almost collided with the palace door when it was closed, something that one or another crow, listening to the knocking, failed to do, so Now he saw how the bundle was lying on the bed, being covered by the curtains that surrounded it, preventing him from seeing who or what it was. Philza moved from one side to the other looking for bandages, water, jugs, glasses, a ewer along with a portable sink where he put a cloth to then pour the water, take it and clean the wound on the black-haired man’s head gently, which seemed more like a caress, as if the person were made of delicate material, fearing to destroy it, when he finished, he bandaged it and let him rest, he arranged the fabrics so that nothing would disturb him.

 

 “By Cronus!  Tubbo you scared me” he jumped slightly when he saw Tubbo leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.

 

 “Yes I noticed, but I’ve always been here, it was you who forgot about me” Tubbo looked at him seriously as he tried to look over Philza’s shoulder “Who is it?”

 

 “You don’t mind, go upstairs, don’t talk about this with anyone, and if something comes up, let me know right away,” he directed him to the door, looking at him seriously.

 

 “But Phil.”

 

 “Go away Hermés”

 

 “Yes Lord Hades”

 

 When he found out, he only went to get a chair to put it next to the cloth to make sure nothing bad happened until sleep overcame him and he fell asleep.

[joyswonderland1108]

Seriously Army?

So she's back home and she's ready to rant and give answers and let you rant with me cause what on earth?

Okay So Jimin had a schedule in Budapest, he left on the 16th which got fuckers panties in a twist because why oh why would Jimin go to the same country JK went to? Didn't you know Budapest is exclusive to JK and JK only? But fear not, a few hours later they were celebrating again because "Jimin will be away for GOLDEN Live on stage" Uhm okay.

Comes the 18th and Jimin is going back home, guess what?

Right.. Because how fucking dare Jimin goes back to his HOME COUNTRY WHERE HIS PLACE IS, HOW DARE HE? THAT VIXEN!! But yeah gotta love the dedication in manifesting Jimin's presence in JK's GOLDEN Live in stage performance. Anygays..

Damn if you do, damn if you don't. So they're unhappy that Jimin went to Budapest but they're also unhappy that he's going back home.. Exactly how do you make these people happy? We don't know, actually we do they absolutely despise Jimin's existence and the ideal for them is him staying 7 countries away from JK..

MOVING ON, comes d-day of the performance, Joon is there, absolutely adorable, in his whole hotness and cuteness, then someone mentions that apparently according to K-army Jimin was there, well.. False alarm that of course got deleted later (rightfully so) when they got the correct information. But that was enough to rile up that cult which led to this

(Stole this from jikookreports)

All that from a false alarm too, they didn't even wait for it to be confirmed or anything just the mention of Jimin there was enough to have them foaming at the mouth. Which then was followed by this

(Stole this from Keira on Twt)

Which ended up being complete bullshit but of course Army hyped it up took it as a fact despite it being unverified news and despite the fact that k-media has been bullshitting on many things before but before i continue.. Notice how none of Joon or Tae's presence in JK's event seem to bother people? Like yes, them being there means they love their maknae, their baby star candy and want to support him but Jimin being there means he's a leech and can't stay home for once. Lovely.

Moving on and this is the cherry on top, this dumb ass, this wet sock, this lab rat, posted this

Now if the previous post wasn't enough of a lie this uncultured twat decided to make up a whole ass au out of that previous lie and of fucking course 12.4K (now probably more) of "smart" Army ate that shit up.

Mind you this post is still up and OP thought it was funny to keep it up and add this

So not only homeboy Tae was busy today, as seen here

Joon also mentioned that other members, which logically would be Vmin, have a shoot today, which means both weren't there. But this motherfucker was proud about spreading misinformation DURING THE LIVE not even after but decided it was a good idea to post some bullshit before even the live ended so basically disrupting people's attention and creating some whack ass drama instead of focusing on the performance that JK worked hard for.

Now if you did watch the live you know that JK pointed to Joon and asked to give him the mic to give a lil speechy speech, so are you now insinuating that JK is a dick for not acknowledging Tae's presence and only acknowledging Joon? Literally nothing about that post is a cute joke, not the timing of it, not the obvious lie when my boy Tae wasn't even there, just.. How very inconsiderate do you have to be? If YOU don't care about the live then it's on YOU, keep your childishness to yourself and if you still wanna make sick jokes, out of respect, wait for that live to fucking end.

Some people are on the TL while watching the live to hopefully catch some live translations as those offered with the live can be a bit off for now, so having to scroll through your tl and then you come across this shit? I don't know why it is so normalized to hate on Jimin and to disrespect JK, exactly what did this fandom become? Is it that hard to appreciate these boys without creating so much drama, so much hate, so much chaos?

I'm seriously very disappointed, as always, in ARMY cause if that was coming from the cult only then it's nothing new but then again at this point, at this rate, is it even something new that ARMY are engaging in loads of fuckery? No.. Not at all really.

Grow the fuck up.

[reifromrfa]

Short fic: Mafia AU | Jumin

I saw this artwork by @ranartinart and got inspired to write something short for my love, Jumin Han ;w; Thank you for your lovely art! :)

Reposted with permission from @ranartinart <3 Check it out here!

Wrote this fic while listening to this playlist ♪( ´θ｀)ノ

Trigger Warning: Violence

Story under the cut! This was purely self-indulgent haha! I feel as though I'm a little rusty with mysme so apologies in advance if it feels ooc ^^;; Enjoy~

★・・・・・・★

His precise steps against the marbled floor echo through the hallway. He isn't in a hurry; in fact, he takes his time, allowing the rage to bubble up inside him. He keeps his expression composed though, his head held high, his cold, steely eyes staring straight ahead, at the door on the end of the hallway.

Men and women bow to him as he passes, all of them avoiding his gaze. Finally, he reaches the door and his men open the door for him. Assistant Kang sees the man kneeling in the middle of the room, a few bruises already visible on his face and arms. She feels no pity for him, especially after he'd attempted to kidnap MC. Though MC was unharmed, Jaehee knows that this man will probably die here tonight. Honestly, he had a far better chance of surviving had he attempted to kill her boss, the mafia king of South Korea. But attacking his wife? His queen?

Jaehee looks at him with disdain as Jumin hands her his coat.

"Good riddance," she thinks to herself, turning on her heel. She makes a small gesture and the guards in the room follow her out, leaving Jumin alone with the man.

Jumin carefully folds his sleeves up, watching the man with cold, calculating eyes. The man glares at him, his hands bound behind his back.

"You motherfucker. You can't keep me here! They're gonna come lookin' for me! And when they do, they're gonna take you down, you bastard! You'll see. You're gonna be fucking sorry!" the man spits out, staring hatefully at Jumin.

Jumin arches a brow, continuing to fold his sleeves on his other arm. His voice is calm, low, as though he's having a casual conversation and not being threatened by this piece of scum. "Oh? I'd like to see them try."

The man becomes angrier, as though Jumin’s calm facade is somehow an insult to him. “Don’t you fucking know who I am, huh? I am—”

“You are irrelevant to me,” Jumin interrupts, crossing his arms as he looks down on the man. His expression darkens as he studies the lowlife who dared to touch his MC. Who dared to even breathe the same air as her. “I do not need to know your name, I do not need to know who you are, what you’re worth. All I need to know is this:

You meant to harm my wife.”

Jumin watches as a small smile appears on the man’s face. His jaw clenches as he holds himself back. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet.

“Your wife? MC? Yeah, she’s a real beauty. I remember those scared cries she made when I grabbed her. I bet she sounds real good in bed, huh? I bet—”

The man never gets to finish his sentence. Instead, he has a split second to widen his eyes before Jumin’s fist collides with his jaw. The man hears a crack but it’s quickly forgotten as pain shoots up his cheek, his jaw. His head whips harshly to one side and he tastes blood in his mouth.

Jumin grits his teeth and grabs the man by his hair, forcing him to face Jumin again.

“How dare you talk about my wife that way. How dare you even utter her name with that filthy mouth of yours. You have no right to even walk in the places her feet have touched. You have no right to breathe the air she breathes. You have no right at all to LIVE in the world she exists in.”

The man attempts to scowl but it turns into an ugly grimace, his jaw throbbing. “When I get outta here, I’m gonna fuck her and make you watch, you sonovabitch!” He’s about to spit at Jumin Han’s face when Jumin releases his hair and hits him with an uppercut, effectively slamming his teeth together. Jumin steps back and watches as the man chokes on his own spit, violent coughs making his shoulders heave. Blood starts to trickle down the side of his lips, down his chin; to Jumin, that vermin’s blood is like coal that fuels the deep loathing he feels towards said vermin. He wants more, more of the man’s blood to spill until he is on the brink of death.

“What makes you think you’re getting out of here? Do you think that highly of your comrades? Do you think they would come for you…at the risk of becoming my enemy?” Jumin lets out a mirthless chuckle.

“You’re sorely mistaken.

No one is coming to save you.”

“Think of it like this…” Jumin yanks on the man’s hair again, pulling him to his feet. He leans closer. In a low, soft voice, he speaks to the man —like Death’s whisper to a dying soul.

“You’re dead to them. In fact…you’re dead to everyone. There’s not a person who would want to be affiliated with you now. There’s not a single soul who will even speak your name anymore. Because if they do, I will not only obliterate every trace of their existence from the world, I will also ensure that their life becomes a living hell. They will spend every waking moment in a dark cell, suffering, praying they were dead, and every time they close their eyes they will be plagued with nightmares of the pitiful, painful, pathetic life ahead of them.”

The man struggles to remain upright, his hands still bound behind his back as blood starts to soak the front of his shirt. A muscle in Jumin’s jaw twitches as he stares at the hideous expression on the man’s face.

“You asked me if I knew who you are? Yes, I know who you are. I also know where you parents are, your sister and her family, even the bastard son you’re hiding from your employer.” At his words, Jumin sees the man’s face pale. “Here, we place a high value on family. That’s why I sought to learn about your family.”

“If you fucking touch them, I fucking swear I’ll—”

“You’ll…what? Kill me?” Jumin’s eyes flash and his lips curl in a small, taunting smirk. “That’s what you should have done. You should have killed me instead of going after my wife.”

Jumin approaches the man and now, he sees the man take a small step back.

“You’re only fucking cocky ‘coz you’re beating up a defenseless man! You think this is a fair fight?!”

“Fair?” Jumin’s eyebrow arches. “Fair?” He tilts his head ever so slightly, looking at the man in disbelief.

“Why would I stoop to your level and make this fair?”

He takes another step towards the man and the man’s eyes widen as he takes a step back.

“I was born with every advantage…why wouldn’t I use them? To, as you put it, ‘make this fair’? Why? You certainly thought it was fair to take advantage of a woman who’s smaller than you…and now you call me ‘cocky’ for beating you while your hands are bound?”

Jumin closes the gap between them and delivers a swift punch to the man’s solar plexus. The man chokes and gasps for air, wheezing as Jumin throws another punch…and then another.

The man feels his knees buckle as his body topples forward. But before he can even fall, Jumin grabs his shoulders and pushes the man down at the same time raising his knee and driving it further on the same spot.

“Get this through your thick head,” Jumin says vehemently, now letting his anger take over. Gone is his composure, all he can see now is this man stalking his wife, touching her, laughing at her horrified expression, thinking about the terrible things he’d do to MC…all because she’s Jumin’s queen.

“Life will never be fair.” Jumin keeps his grip on the man, not giving him a chance to straighten. He slams his knee against the man’s abdomen and now he can hear the man wheezing hard, his gasps turning raspy, desperate.

“You and I will never be on the same level.”

“P-lea—”

Jumin scowls at the man. He dares try to interrupt Jumin? Jumin takes a slight step back before slamming the man’s face down on his knee.

“Shut up. You don’t even deserve to be talking. I’ll have your tongue cut out…eventually.”

Jumin releases the man and he falls to the ground like a pathetic rag doll. The man is still wheezing, taking in short, quick breaths. Jumin watches him struggle to breathe, a rush of satisfaction filling him as he sees the man’s bloody face, his nose broken, his lip busted, his eyes swollen and drooping.

But still, this will never be enough. There’s never a good enough punishment for someone who has ill intentions towards Jumin Han’s family. Especially his Queen.

Jumin uses the front of his shoe to push the man onto his back. The man’s wide eyes dart to Jumin as he starts to choke on his own blood. But Jumin merely places a foot on his chest and leans forward, putting all his weight on the foot that’s right over the man’s lungs.

“Now…I’ve established that I know you. But…

Do you know who I am?”

Jumin’s steely gaze never leaves the man’s face, his icy expression showing no hints of mercy. In fact, he leans forward more, pressing his foot deeper.

”I am Jumin Han. I am the most powerful man in Asia.

From now on, your life is in MY hands. If you breathe it is because I’m letting you breathe. But don’t worry, I assure you, breathing will be a luxury for you. Like I said before, I was born with every advantage at my fingertips.

I intend to use my power to make your life into something far worse than the hell you’ve imagined.

About your family…I won’t hurt them. Yet. It all depends on whether you cooperate or not. You may think this is a sick, cruel game…I want to assure you yet again that yes, this is my sick, twisted game for simpletons with a death wish.”

The man’s face is turning purple as he desperately opens his mouth to try to get air into his lungs. Jumin just stares at him for a few seconds, watching the red lines creeping into the man’s eyes. Jumin eases his foot over the man’s lungs and he waits until the man intakes a couple of short breaths before pushing against his chest again.

“You’ve made a grave mistake, turning me into your enemy…but now I’ll be more than that. I’ll be the demon that haunts your every move. I’ll be your personal Grim Reaper, collecting blood and instilling fear in you.

Every day.

For the rest of your meaningless existence.”

Jumin lifts his foot from the man’s chest and he gazes down at his work. The man has tears flowing down the sides of his face, bruises and cuts all over his body —at least, the parts that Jumin can see. Jumin is sure the man has a cracked rib or two as well.

To him, this punishment is still nothing compared to the trauma this pathetic idiot instilled in MC. But he’ll have to stop for now; he doesn’t want the man to die that same night. No…Jumin wants him to live a long, miserable life.

Without another word, Jumin heads for the door, where Assistant Kang is already waiting with a towel in her hands. Jumin takes it, wiping away the man’s blood from his hands.

“I want him looked at but make sure he’s bound tightly. Only patch up the wounds that are fatal. Then transfer him to our warehouse, put him in a coffin and make him think he’s going to be buried alive; I trust you’ll oversee this, Assistant Kang?”

“Of course, sir. I’ll send you a recording afterwards.”

“Good. He can stay there for the evening, but make sure to check the CCTVs in the coffin every now and then. I want him to live for a long time. In the morning, move him to a cell and only give him water. No food, no lights, no toilets, no requests. I’ll call you with further instructions tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?”

The guards around Jaehee reply in a rush, the menacing aura Jumin is exuding, scaring even them. Jaehee waves the guards towards the man and they get to work.

“Oh, and Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee turns to her boss, watching him holding the blood-stained towel. She never thought she’d be working for the most powerful man in the continent, but she’s also grateful that she is. There’s no mercy in Jaehee’s heart towards the man who could have taken someone precious from them, and she’s glad her boss can inflict the most damning punishment onto that man.

“Yes, Mr. Han?”

“Make sure that man or anyone affiliated with him will never get anywhere close to my wife. If they do, kill them. I want all our men to know that.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good. I’ll leave this to you, then. Have a pleasant evening, Assistant Kang.”

Jaehee watches him go, as though he didn’t just nearly beat a man to death. But at the end of the day, they’re all just pawns on Jumin’s chessboard.

She pities any fool who dares to take on the king and his queen.

★・・・・・・★

I hope you liked it! Thank you for reading <3 Don't forget to follow @ranartinart too <3

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

[chainsawcorazon]

only in my old age does it hit how awful of a decision it was for angel to not only transplant the fang gang into a timeline where connor lives, but erase their memories too! it’s like the irreparable damage in season four was merely amplified. of COURSE angel doesn’t feel like his struggle’s getting him any closer to shanshu because he keeps not DEALING with this shit. he’s outchea changing timelines, wiping memories, rewinding days, etc. of COURSE he still harbors resentment against wesley bc the motherfucker’s repressed his feelings of both love and hatred towards him because how DARE one of his closest male friends try to STEAL his child and raise him on his own iNSTEAD OF WITH ANGEL HIMSELF???

and not to mention gunn/fred! they raised that boy for months! they played mom and dad while angel was hallucinating at the bottom of the ocean and wesley was enjoying his dark’ness with lilah AND tryna bring angel back to the surface, and lorne??? lorne clocked that boy’s crazy! angel, in his inability to deal with his grief and loss, stripped his team of their OWN ability to deal with their grief and loss. because THEY deserved to grieve too! wesley deserved to grieve his ousting from the group AND THE FACT THAT HIS PROPHECY FUCKING CAME TRUE. fred should have been able to grieve the crumbling of her relationship with gunn, her shame of not thinking she’s ‘champion’ enough, and the decisions she made in the throes of the literal apocalypse and the revelation that one of her key abusers was a trusted confidant. gunn should have been able to grieve the death of the son that was not his but the one he DID look after, and the relationship he ended after years of feeling helpless himself with no one caring for his needs and declining mental health.

connor was a bitch. his entire existence outside of when he was a baby was the bane of everyone’s existence, BUT HE WAS THEIR CHILD. THEY ALL TOOK TURNS RAISING HIM AND LOVING HIM. they should have been able to grieve not only his death but all the what-have-could-haves!

the tragedy of ats is that the writing was so fucking bad, it inadvertently made angel, the hero, the BIGGEST clown in the show by never allowing him to truly and honestly deal with his pain, and by extension, his team’s pain. the memory wipe was paint on rotting plaster. it wasn’t even half the fix-it angel thought it was, and all it did was diminish the suffering the fang gang had to go thru. it’s always angelus this, angelus this, wolfram and hart this wolfram and hart that, it’s never ANGEL, PLEASE DEAL. and it’s fucking tragic, because after eight seasons of content, he DID deserve to have some respite, to deal with his pain, and finally be put to rest instead of selfishly taking from his friends what only a god could do.

and angel was never a god, and yet he had access to god’s powers. instead of letting this man fucking DEAL with his shit with his friends’ support, joss instead flipped the story on its ass. deaths and unreconciled losses and relationships everywhere, until angel was left to what? fight eternally?

lmao the man never actually left hell, and his poor friends got dragged into it with him. this is why we never need a buffyverse reboot ever again. imagine giving one of the central characters from your original show a whole ass show of his own, and not even writing a conclusion for him. all these years and for what? so he could hurt lorne, watch the others die, and become the very bastard buffy called him out to be thru andrew? it’s grimdark shit from hell and i hope we never have to see a reboot or continuation of it bc IF we did, and angel was STILL doing his clown shit, then buffy WOULD be the one to send his ass to hell again bc all the story would have proved is that you can put a soul in a man, but you can’t make him like it. and how’s THAT for a metaphor? forget trying to atone for your fucking sins, cuz your ass is grass and goin straight back to hell regardless 🤦🏽‍♀️

angel im so sorry joss that dumb fuck did this to you. you were a whiny cunt, but you were loved, and i have every faith that you finally made it out of this hell 😭

[svartalfhild]

Svar Watches BBC Robin Hood for the First Time - Season 2

Some of you may have seen my reactions to watching Season 1 for the first time. Well, here we are with Season 2:

So I see we're starting off strong with a continuation of No Rights For Marian Ever. Fucking RIP.

Holy shit Guy has gone off the deep end.

But wait! What's this? Guy finally getting a wake up call in the form of Marian saving his sorry ass from drowning because the Sheriff gives zero (0) shits about him? Amazing. I expect it will take approximately 15 seconds before the Sheriff manipulates him into backsliding.

Well, would you look at that. There he goes. Backsliding. This is probably the most heartbreaking it's ever been too. "I have no one" fucking killed me. Like Guy was this close 🤏 to becoming a better man. He was literally in the process of disobeying the Sheriff for the first time ever to save Marian, but then the Sheriff showed up, manhandled him, and reminded him of the power he holds over him, and boom, it's back to square one.

Allan out here like Don't Put Me In A Situation and then immediately proceeds to be put in several situations. Well done, dude. Get got. Nice jerkin though.

Aw, Guy, if you're going to be 0.5% nicer, don't be stupid and spoil it by getting pushy and possessive again. That's a solid 👎 from me, buddy.

I see we are continuing the trend of every man ever trying to tell Marian what to do and put her in a box. Once again, Robin is just as guilty as Guy of having his own idea of who and what Marian should be and trying make her conform to that ideal.

At this point, I think Marian should just be allowed to go feral and kill Prince John and the Sheriff. I know it won't happen, but it's what I want for her.

Allan you dumb bitch.

Okay but I did like that Little John was the one motherfucker who was like "Marian needs a hug".

Oh. Oh the Sheriff truly is an evil theatre kid. He's getting excited about doing a fake beggar bit with a bandit lady and her kids to fuck with Robin.

GUY FINALLY MADE A GOOD CHOICE! \O/ 🍾🥂🎉👏

Now do it again, I dare you, you emo bitch.

The fact that he's back to marching to the Sheriff's tune the moment he's returned makes it even clearer how abused Guy has been by him. Abuse victims often fall back to old habits and people no matter how much it hurts them, because it's familiar and figuring out how to exist outside that system is terrifying, especially when they don't have much in the way of positive support.

Okay, so Guy finding out that Marian is the Night Watchman is fucking complicated, cause like on the one hand, Marian is a fucking hero and sentencing her to death instead of protecting her is fucking evil, but on the other hand I can definitely see how Guy arrived there because now he knows that Marian lied to and manipulated him, and that means he has no friends and can trust no one and of course he's going to fall back on every evil impulse the Sheriff taught him, because to his mind, the Sheriff has been proven right about everything. That's so fucking tragic.

Lmao the Queen Mother is so thirsty for Little John. Looks like she's another kind of queen.

GUY MADE ANOTHER GOOD CHOICE!!!! Oh but Marian bungled it but rashly trying to kill the Sheriff. Goddamnit. Like yes kill the Sheriff but not like that.

WILL/DJAQ SHIP FINALLY GETS TO SAIL!!

Oh fuck yes call them all out, Much! They do take you for granted! And they're pretty mean to you a lot of the time.

Holy shit are we acknowledging Robin's PTSD?

Allan redemption arc? Okay, I guess he's earned it.

Jesus fucking christ Guy stop waffling you're killing me.

OH MY GOD GUY THAT'S THE PINNACLE OF FUCKING UP *SCREAMS INCOHERENTLY INTO THE VOID*

Well this got super fucking sad and tragic

So England is saved but Guy really went about as far off the deep end as it's possible to go, like this was me when he stabbed Marian:

Honestly didn't see it coming. What the fuck is gonna happen now???

I guess stay tuned for my Season 3 thoughts soon to be coming down the pipeline.

Edit: here's Season 3.

[verus-veritas]

Legacy

Revenge, Technology, Mind Transference, with a dash of unrequited love. What’s not to love? /Verus

"Dude! P-please! I'm sorry! Whatever you think I've done, it must all be a mistake!" Andew yelled, thrashing against his confinements and eyeing the only point of exit in the room. His firm muscles were wet and taut against his clothes, and his handsome face flush red with terror and worry.

"Are you really sorry though? It didn't seem like it from the way you acted during Gavin's funeral. The sneers and laughter you made as his parents said their final words to him..." I said, hiding in the shadows. Only my feet and the contours of my body was visible for him to see.

"N-no offense. I just found it funny when the parents said they wish he'd atleast gotten a girlfriend before he passed away-" The same devious sneer returned on his perfectly handsome face, as he most likely remembered the scene in his head.

"Of course you found it funny. Because you knew he was completely gay. Gay, and had a massive crush on you for ages. He literally worshipped the ground you walked on, and spent most of his waking hours wishing he could be with you." I explained, slowly walking around him as I pulled out a flimsy latex cap with electronical nodes attached to it.

"And I let him. I did no wrong." Andrew talked back. His eyes following my figure until I stood directly behind him.

"No! You lead him on, made him believe you were actually interested in him. And then you destroyed him. You are the reason he ran out of the house crying, and you are the reason he didn't see the truck speeding towards him!" My voice was shaking as I quickly slapped the cap onto his head, accidentally pulling out a few strands of his hair.

"Ouuch! Get this thing off me!" He shook his head and began thrashing about again.

"You know. He really loved you... He said he was going to make you the happiest man on earth. Showering you with gifts and undying love, and be by your side forever and ever. That's why he trusted you so wholeheartedly and let you do whatever you wanted."

"Naive..." He quietly muttered under his breath.

"He was even fine with you staring and drooling over other girls. As long as he could stay by your side."

"What a fag..." I could hear him gritting his teeth.

"But that evening when you invited him over, only to have him find you in the bedroom hooking up with a random girl... that completely ruined him. You shattered his dream, his self-confidence, and his sensitive soul! He didn't know what to do and where to go, which is why he ran straight out into the traffic..." My voice was uncontrollably going up and down now, as I was unable to hide my emotions.

"Dude only had himself to blame. He should've known I only had him around for the free stuff he bought for me." Andrew snickered, as he looked down at the expensive shorts Gavin had bought for him a few weeks prior.

"How dare you!" I tried to punch his shoulder, but knew I was too weak to do any real damage against his hard muscles.

"Y'know... it almost sounds like you had feelings for him- Wait a minute! You're that pastry white kid that always walked around with him aren't you?! Hah! 'Ghost boy' we called you!" The tone in his voice shifted - with more confidence and arrogance. Back to the way he normally talked - a manipulative bastard at heart. "I see. So you best friend Gavin never had feelings for you, and now that he's gone you blame yourself for not having stopped him."

"......" I clenched my hands till my knuckles turned white.

"Hah! Maybe you really were a horrible friend. Have you thought about that you might be the reason he's dead?" He laughed, obviously enjoying the way he was toying with my feelings.

"...you have no idea..." I mumbled, as tears began to flow down my cheeks.

"Maybe you should be the one sitting in this chair - tied up and wearing this stupid cap on your head. Hehe."

I took a deep breath and calmed myself, before walking around him once again and turning so he could see me. See the real me... one last time. "I will. Soon."

"W-what do you mean with that? And why are you also wearing that ridiculous cap?" He asked. His tone in voice once again becoming panicked and anxious.

"You see. The reason why I'm so pale is because I spend so much time at home playing with my inventions and devices. Coding is one of my favorite things to do. And for the last few months I've relentlessly been working on creating this device we're both wearing right now. It was originally only meant to be used on you, recoding the patterns in your brain into loving Gavin as much as he loved you. While also erasing all of your bad traits and turning you into his ideal boyfriend... but there's no reason for that anymore, is there? So, I upgraded it into 2.0, which can now be used with two people."

"P-pff... yeah right... and what does this new version do then?"

"It can transfer the consciousness between two human brains. Even recoding the brain into believing the new consciousness have always been in control of its own body. All the memories, habits, and even muscle memory will be easily accessible to the new permanent owner." I explained, as I began fiddling with a machine by our side. The nodes on our caps lit up.

"Permanent?! Wait a minute. Let's say all of this freaky sci-fi stuff is actually real, what's going to happen to my consciousness?" Andrew asked, as he began to get more anxious by the beeping sound of the nodes on his head.

"All gone. Overwritten by mine. Erased out of existence with no way of restoring it." I answered nonchalantly. Flicking the last switched around, the device was now ready to be activated.

"What the fuck! Then you're basically killing me?! Get me out of here, you sick freak!" He began violently thrashing against the back of the chair, and flung his head around to get the latex cap off... but to no avail.

"Am I really though? Your memories, your body, and your relationships will all still be here, under my complete control. I'm just... discarding a small part of you that's no longer necessary."

"No...no... Help! HELP! SOMEONE!! THIS CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER IS GOING TO KILL ME!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, but the soundproofed walls would do him no good.

I flicked the final switch and walked over to him as the machine began buzzing. Standing in front of him, I suddenly sat down on his lap and grabbed hold of his face. I stared into his fearful yet piercing blue eyes and slid my hands across the cheeks and contours of his face.

"This beautiful face of yours that Gavin loved, I promise I'll take good care of it and cherish it until the day I die. It's the least I can do to honor my friend Gavin." I leaned forward and gently laid a kiss on his sweaty forehead, while holding him in place as he screamed for all he was worth.

"No! Noo! NOoO-Uoogguuughhhh" His scream turned into a gurgle as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. At the same time, my eyes went white and hazy as my pastry body slumped over and fell on the cement floor. Most likely cracked open its head or something from the sound of it.

"NgOOuoouughhgguuuhh!!!" Andrew's head flung back and forth as if to fight whatever was invading his head, but it barely took a minute before the thrashing suddenly stopped and his head slumped down.

His eyes were closed, his face flushed red from exertion, and the sweat and drool pooled down onto his expensive shorts. A further five minutes of stillness and blinking nodes passed before any activity was seen.

---

*Gasp*

I awoke to the cap on my head giving me a quick electric shock. In front of me laid my old withered body, lifeless and without a doubt stone dead. My throat felt dry and tired, and the ties on my arms hurt like hell. In fact, everything felt, looked, and smelt different. The smell oozing from my sweaty clothes that once smelt great now stunk in my nose. I could recall from Andrew's memories that he showered atleast twice a day. I showered atleast twice a day.

After some fiddling with the special knots in my back, I easily slipped the rope off. Massaging the sore parts on my wrist, I soon relished in how big and strong my new hands looked now. Hands who should've been holding Gavin's...

I explored further up till I reached my new bulging biceps. Squeezing them I felt how firm and taut they were. I never in a million years would have managed to get myself this big, but here I was, standing in the body of a perfect specimen. The body of the man who my friend loved, but who didn't truly love him back. If only I could've done this before Gavin died... Would he have loved me instead, or would he have hated me for what I had done? Well, atleast he would've been alive.

My focus went to my Andrew face, as I caressed the blemish-free skin and the small stubble forming on it. The face of the man I had hated for a while, the face of the man whose identity I would have to take over, and the face I would see in the mirror for as long as I breathed. It was one of the most handsome faces I've ever laid my eyes on no doubt, so I'm perfectly fine with that decision.

My hands continued to explore what was now mine; running fingers through my lush but wet hair, following the outline of my cobblestone abs, and shaking my strong and muscular legs awake from sitting too long.

Not long after I finally slipped the drool and sweat-soaked shorts off myself and watched as the tool between my legs arose to its new owner. It might not have been as long as my former one, but the very girth of it made up for it. As I enveloped it between my palms, I realized that no one had ever been as intimate with Andrew's tool as I was now, and no one would ever be. Not even Gavin would if he was somehow resurrected. Only I, Andrew would ever know how this throbbing member would feel in my own hands, the endorphins and pleasure its touch would send throughout my amazing body, and the ultimate earth-shattering orgasms I would experience as I edge myself to climax every day from now on.

The very thought of it immediately brought me to the brink of orgasm, so I quickly spread my legs apart and thrust the member fully through my grasp. It was all that was needed as I suddenly began shaking with pleasure and exploded shot after shot of Andrew seed all over the floor, myself and my former lifeless body."Ugh! Uuuugh! UUUuOOGggHH!!"

“.... Holy shit.....” I moaned, slightly shocked by the unfamiliarity of the new voice coming from my throat.

Reeling from my first ever orgasm in my new body and life, I sat back down on the chair and took a breather. I was sweaty, my crotch sticky, and my armpits stunk. Yet, I know I still looked glorious. How couldn't I? After all, I am Andrew. The man who Gavin loved, and who loved him back just as much, if not even more...

I will dedicate this new life of mine to worship and care for this body just as much as Gavin would have. His legacy, Andrew's body and life, and my consciousness have finally become one... and I promise I will carry them with pride and confidence to the grave... even if it is the only thing I will accomplish in this short insignificant life of mine.

[depressedacadamia]

Dimples

Summary: Apparently Nico has dimples and Will did not know.

A/N: Heheheee, motherfuckers my exams are in a week and a half and I haven't revised shit. Instead, I'm writing these. Wish me luck, this might be the only fic I post for the next 2 weeks but if you're lucky, I might post pt 2 for 'How to passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower'. Toodle pip and <3 from mee!

Extra edit: I forgot it was solangelo week, woops. 

Read on A03

Nico Di Angelo was not known for smiling. He was not known for grinning or laughing. He was however, known for snarling, sarcastic, outdated remarks and terrifying people to the point where they’d rather face death itself than face him and his wrath.

So of course, Percy and every logical being would avoid him at all costs when he was in one of his ‘moods’. These so-called ‘moods’ referred to when Nico seemed particularly dangerous, like when his eyes had a dangerous glower to them that hinted he enjoyed threatening others a tad too much- in fact, so much so that Leo had suggested that Nico may be a sadist (That hadn’t gone well for Leo, to say the very least).

But of course, William Andrew Solace was in no way a logical being nor was he very fearful of Nico’s alternating and very much violent auras. Now, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing necessarily, in fact, it was the very thing that had started their relationship and while everybody thought Will was insensitive with his historical jokes he made towards Nico, Nico greatly appreciated being able to understand something from his time.

Will, on several occasions, related him to Captain America in Marvel's Avengers.

So when Nico, in his terrifying rage, stormed into the infirmary, Percy wasn’t sure what he was about to witness. Were these two having an argument? Nico looked like he was going to set the infirmary ablaze or perhaps bury it 6 feet under- it was truly the unpredictability that created the suspense and fear.

“Where are they?” Nico’s voice was calm, cold but sharp. His words felt like the gentle, smooth slant of a knife, apply pressure and you get cut. Nobody dared to answer. The infirmary’s silence seemed like one of lambs, too scared to speak out until another leader did. Whether they expected Nico to simply leave if no one answered, they certainly did not expect him to ask again.

“Where. Are. They?” He punctuated his words, his voice combined with a deadly hunger that could only be satisfied with death.

The room felt like a cave. The only words being echoed back were Nico’s own words, bouncing off the smooth walls of the infirmary. The corners seemed dark, the white presence of the infirmary slowly being poisoned. It seemed like fate sealed their hands- they were like lambs to the slaughter: helpless.

“WHERE ARE THEY!” Nico roared. This time, he did not wait for a response. He took a small glimpse at the camper in front of him, who was obviously avoiding his gaze, and the next thing the kid knew was that he was pinned to the wall with a metre of stygian iron under his neck. The kid hyperventilated and in a moment of sheer panic and pure fear, blurted,

“I don’t know where they are! “

Nico, holding the camper up with one hand, shoved him into the wall again. “ But you hurt them anyway?”

The camper was completely clueless but he wasn’t stupid. Simply denying whatever Nico was accusing him of would increase Nico’s rage and that could lead everyone down a very dark road.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt them! I swear...” He started to sob. “ I swear it was an accident!”

“You hurt them! That isn’t an accident. You will pay for your crimes. I swear I will-”

“-Dear god, Nico what the hell?” A voice of pure confusion entered the infirmary. Nico, on recognising the voice, felt his head snap backwards-trying to find the course of the voice. There on the other side of the infirmary, with his leg in a cast, stood Will solace, still as unfashionable as ever.

Nico almost teleported to Will, considering how fast he appeared by his side. “ Are you okay? It’s okay, I found out who did it and-”

“-Jesus, Stalin, calm down there.” Will looked at the terrified boy who was in tears. “This kid knows nothing. He wasn’t even there. Were you just putting on some show trials?”

Nico had to resist the twitch in his lips at the communism jokes. Ever since Will had found out that Nico’s weakness was communism jokes, he had been exploiting it, just like the working class were exploited, and using it to his own advantage.

“Wait, this kid wasn’t involved?” Nico looked at all the terrified people in the infirmary, still frozen to their spots, waiting for the go sign for them to continue with their lives.

Will waved his hand. “Go ahead, continue with your business. He will be on his best behaviour now that I’m here.”

“Uh, says who?”

“Says my broken leg.”

On the mention of a broken leg, Nico’s worry instantly returned. His hand reached out to touch Will’s face, in a gesture of affection before quickly snatching it away. Will reached for his hand, took it in his own and intertwined their fingers as in to say It’s okay, they support us. It’s okay, I love you and you love me. It’s okay, I’m not ashamed of being in love with you.

Nico appreciated the gesture and once again, fought the urge to give in to the overwhelming desire to smile at his perfect boyfriend.

“Are you okay? Can you show me your leg? What happened? Why can’t you heal it?” The words began flying out of Nico’s mouth, the concern on his face unhideable. His eyebrows were cutely creased together and he kept on placing his hands all over Will- it was driving him crazy.

“Calm down there, communist. This is my injury, not yours.” Will joked, trying to hide his blush- truth be told, he did not want to tell Nico the real reason behind how he broke his leg because it was honestly the most ridiculous reason one may ever hear in their entire life.

Nico let out a little snort of laughter after hearing another communist joke but was careful to keep it on the downlow. He noticed that Will was being quite indirect and avoiding his gaze: he knew that could only mean one thing.

“What did you do to break your leg?” Nico smirked wickedly, understanding that Will had, once again, been quite idiotic.

Will, gasping in mock offense but also quite embarrassed by how well his own boyfriend knew him, let out a bubble of nervous daughter. “ Hahaa, what do you mean? I broke my leg the same way everyone else does...”

“... which is?”

Due to the vast amount of broken legs he had healed, Will actually knew how to answer this question. “ Through sports.”

“Sports?” Nico snorted. “ You? Sports? Have you ever even run in your entire life? I swear the only thing you do is heal and read. Maybe sleep on the offhand you listen to me.”

“You can’t talk over there!”

“Just tell me how you broke your leg, for the love of the Gods!”

“I was having a competition with Percy for who could heal faster.”

“You were doing what?”

“A competition Nico, have you ever heard of one? Normally the losers forget they exist so I wouldn't be surprised that you had never heard of one-”

“No, I know what a competition is, you idiot. What I don't know is, why on earth you were having a regeneration competition with Percy of all the demigods you could have chosen, you chose the one with the ability to heal themselves as well?”

Will pouted slightly, his eyebrows making a small frown. “I would have thought you would be halfway through murdering Percy right about now.”

“If Percy managed to win, then honestly, you kinda deserved it.”

“I thought you liked me!”

“I thought my boyfriend wasn’t an idiot!”

“Technically I won because Percy was too baby-ish to break his own leg!”

Nico took a very long pause. Slowly, he began shaking his head, from side to side. The expression on his face was illegible but eventually it morphed into one of laughter. His laugh was rich and so was the expression on his face. His lips were curled upwards, his eyes were creasing, with long beautiful dimples on both sides of his face- as clear as the moon on a clear night.

The infirmary was silent. They simply stared at the beautiful angel who graced the place with their voice. They were horrified and in awe. Nico Di Angelo was capable of smiling! He was capable of laughing!

It was a fucking miracle.

“What did I tell you!” Percy yelled, throwing his arm over Annabeth who simply sighed. “I fucking told you! I knew he had dimples!”

Will, slightly stunned, simply took Nico’s face in both his hands. His crystal blue eyes were wide open and to Nico it looked like the ocean was inviting him to take a dive into int’s complex and unknown depths.

Into the unknooooowwwwwnnnnnn.

He cursed himself for that being his first thought. He then cursed Will for making him watch Frozen because it was apparently culturally inappropriate to not have seen it. Then he cursed himself again for cursing Will.

“Holy shit,” Will whispered as he stared into his boyfriends grinning face. “Holy fuck Nico, you never told me you had dimples.”

“Language.”

“Holy shit, holy fucking hell. You cannot smile at me like that Nicolo Di Angelo and expect me to keep my language appropriate. Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror?”

“Calm down,” Nico groaned, throwing his head backwards. He could feel his palms getting sweaty from Will’s words- what could he say, he was slightly embarrassed.

“Wait!” Will cried. “ Do it again. Smile again!”

Nico gave a sultry smirk and Will whacked his arm. “ I asked you to smile at me, not seduce me. Smile!”

“Who wouldn't be happy to be seduced by me?”

“Just smile, please!”

Nico sighed before looking at his gorgeous boyfriend. His eyes darted down at the cast around the leg and immediately Nico remembered the cause of injury. He started laughing, his lips stretching into a genuine smile and his dimples flashing all across his face. Will, still holding his boyfriend's face, couldn’t help himself as he brought their lips together.

Will was so used to feeling Nico’s smile when they kissed so when he brought their lips together, he didn't know what he was expecting. It felt different for some reason, it felt more.. It felt better, it felt like he was getting a new piece of Nico. Feeling Nico smile and seeing him smile were two different things and now that he could picture Nico’s smile as he kissed his smiling lips, Will thought he’d explode from happiness.

Will pulled away quickly, his hand still cemented to Nico’s grinning face. He had pulled away just so he could see Nico’s smile and more importantly his dimples again.

“What?” Nico’s innocent voice and grin combined confirmed for Will that if he died on that very spot, he would have died a happy man.

“Holy shit, you’re the cutest person ever.”

And with that, he brought their lips together again.

Neither of them noticed Thalia and Annabeth sulking as they paid up their debts to Percy from losing the bet.

[lucifers-horror-harem]

This is How we Pay for the Wax

Okay so after all these very fabulous Bo Sinclair OnlyFans headcanons I decided to write a little something, though I couldn’t help but write some crackfic for this prompt cause I had a HILARIOUSLY terrible idea I just couldn’t help myself lol hope y’all enjoy it!

Words: ~500 Warnings: Dirty talk, masturbation, being caught, sibling drama, Not a reader fic, just a little ol crackfic

“Oh yeah, sweetheart, I’ll bet you like that you dirty girl.”

Bo couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip as he smirked. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the thrill of what he was doing, as he already had voyeuristic tendencies that translated quite well to this medium. He couldn’t believe women paid actual money to watch a man jerk his cock while talking dirty to them. Sometimes he even threw in a little striptease for the extra content. And on some lucky days, he was able to flirt back and forth with these women sharing nudes with each other. Fuck, he couldn’t believe he found a site like this. It was easy money, and for a man that didn’t exist, money was very important to take care of himself and his brothers. 

Groaning low, his head rolled back as his hand fisted his cock harshly. “Bet it would feel a lot better with your hands wrapped around my fat cock.” He gave that signature Sinclair Smirk back at the camera as he picked up the pace. “I know you want to wrap those pretty lips around my cock huh? Naughty girl. My little slut. If you’re good I’ll shove your head down on my cock and fill your mouth with my-”

Suddenly Bo felt something was off, and he spun around in his chair, realizing in horror that he was not alone. Vincent had walked into the room, probably to tell him dinner was ready. Eyes wide, Vincent awkwardly stood there, the two of them in a strange face-off as no one said a word. His wax face prevented any emotion from being seen by his twin, but Vincent slowly slid out of the doorway and shut the door just as quickly as he had entered. 

“Motherfucker!” Bo yelled, quickly discarding his phone and pulling up his pants as he tripped over them on his way to the door, stumbling against the furniture before making it to the door. Vincent had already retreated down the stairs and Bo followed, continuing to shout, “Hey you asshole, don’t you dare fucking judge me! How do you think we get money huh? This is how we pay for the wax, Vinny!”

Vincent turned as Bo met him in the living room, his twin brother seething as he was frustrated in being caught in the act. Nonchalantly, his brother signed, ‘No one asked you to do that. Just admit you like being a manwhore and move on.’

“I am not a slut, you asshole!” Bo fumed, fists balled at his sides. “The shit I do for this family and this is the thanks I get!?”

‘Don’t make excuses just because you’re horny.’

Bo could only respond with angry sputters.

Vincent rolled his eye. ‘Just lock the door when you’re whacking off and stop acting like you’re high and mighty when really you just want to get off.’

“Fuck you!” Bo shouted, running after Vincent as he tried slinking away again. 

Of course, Bo would never admit his twin was correct in a million years. 

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

“ᴅᴀʙɪꜱᴀ” - ᴅᴀʙɪ x ᴀʀɪꜱᴀ // ᶜᵃˢᵘᵃˡ ᵗᵒ ᴸᵒᵛᵉʳˢ, ᴰᵉˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ ᴸᵒᵛᵉ, ᴼⁿᵉ⁻ˢⁱᵈᵉᵈ ⁽ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢⁿ’ᵗ⁾, ᴬⁿᵍˢᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃⁿ ᴼᵖᵉⁿ ᴱⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ

“𝘉𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥...”

College sucks. Writing sucks. Mental Health sucks. Friends are gone. The usual escapism to Hero Society and volunteering at UA isn’t cutting it. Arisa is running on autopilot and needs a distraction. Badly.

Boy, does she find one...

YUH I said I was gonna do it and I did!!!!! Here is the first entry in my selfship moodboards collection! I had SO much fun making this and thinking back to what was going on in my life when I was first simping characters and then working that into the story. I’m absolutely stoked to start the others now!!!

I think it would be really fun to see what other people come up with for their ships!!! I’m gonna tag @putridsimp​ and @xxlvndrxxhzexx​, as well as anyone else that wants to play!!!!

Have fun!!!

(This isn’t part of the game, but instead of writing anything down for this I made a narrative playlist 👀 Tracklist and details under the cut for anyone who wants to read this drama!)

(tw for sex, drugs, and rock n roll + blood, arson, and anarchy. Also some angst and arguments at the end)

spotify link

Snitch - Meeting Dabi for the first time

Toxic - HEART EYES MOTHERFUCKER THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR WHAT'S HIS NUMBER WHERE DO I SIGN?????? I'm imagining it's a short meeting so I have to leave without learning anything else, but I am now Determined.

High Enough - Meeting Dabi for the second time. I haven't figured out where or how this happens, but it's a much longer meeting. Goes well.

I Love Playing With Fire - Oh, I am fully committed now. "This is gonna be so much fun." Just basically me continuing to somehow meet and flirt with Dabi until he infers during a conversation that I hang out with heroes too much and couldn't keep up with him anyway. Obviously I object--(how dare you sir have you seen my track record)--and so he challenges me to prove it and invites me out.

Annihilation - Club music. Scenario #1 indulging my hc that Dabi LOVES dancing and music. I've decided that there are "villain clubs" in hero society that are basically just underground seedy rave scenes because I SAID SO and these types of places already exist in society for criminals and shit so!!!!!!! This is literally just a scene straight outta Skins where we are getting fucked up outta our minds and make out for the rest night and/or end up fucking in an abandoned warehouse somewhere

I Almost Told You That I Love You + Bubble Pop Electric - I PASS THE COOL TEST AND THE CASUAL FUCK RELATIONSHIP BEGINS. He gets a key to the Manor for convenience. (ps this cover of Bubble Pop Electric isn’t on spotify so here you go )

Come As You Are + Black Hole Sun + 6 Underground - Songs #2, 3, and 4 indulging my hc. Most, if not all, of our dick appts are at the Manor and sometimes, either before or after, we chill, smoke, and listen to his grunge mixes because he very much strikes me as a Nirvana brand Edgy Boi. A good chunk of time is passing between these two songs. *It is important to note for later that literally neither of us ever spend the night. If we fall asleep, he is gone before I wake up or I will wake his ass up so I can get dressed and go home

Cherry - HAHA IT'S NOT LIKE I LIE AWAKE AT NIGHT THINKING ABOUT HIM OR ANYTHING....... ...FUCK and that would be where season 1 would end, which would then lead us into season 2........in the pandemic =)

Be Quiet and Drive - Probably at some point in season 1 I catch wind that Endeavors the #1 hero and I start sympathizing less and less with hero society. Realizing it's not any fucking different than here and heroes are just fancy fucking cops. This is the first summer of the pandemic where I've already been stuck inside for 3-4 months and having that Old Trauma creeping on my brain and the cities are burning and it feels like revolution and things look like they might actually happen and get better and..................and then they don't. And then all the comraderie around the pandemic ends and I'm feeling fully abandoned and at some point when he visits, I have like a full screaming rage rant in front of him, talking about how much I WISH I had powers like him so I COULD JUST END THIS SHIT I'M SO GODDAMN TIRED OF IT I WANT EVERYTHING GONE!!!!!!!!!!!! It's not cute but it's probably the most he's had like A Feeling about me the whole time. And it's maybe a week or 2 later and he's texting me to meet him somewhere, which is extremely soon for him it weirds me out. But I go, and he ends up taking me to this building across from a bunch of important hero sites--we're gonna pretend elevators go up to the roof--corrupt as shit apparently, and he makes me stand in front of him and face forward and hold out my arms the best I can. I'm very sus of this situation, I'm picturing some banter ("...is this like, where you kill me?" "Maybe, if you don't stop running your mouth"), but I eventually do what he says. He steps behind me and holds out his arms like me, and suddenly I can feel the heat from his flames. "Tell me where to aim." Ohhhh it's the most dangerous drug he's ever given me 

 Lights Out - Congratulations, Dabi! You have unlocked FERAL ARISA. BURN THAT ONE AND BURN THAT ONE AND BURN THAT ONE AND BURN THAT ONE AND BURN THAT ONE AND BURN THAT ONE AND BURN THAT ONE AND—

Rebel Yell - SLIGHTLY LESS FERAL BUT STILL BEING A COMPLETE MENACE TO SOCIETY WITH DABI FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT. Wild sex afterwards lmao. Definitely starts liking me more after this.

E-girl - Another club scene. Huh. It's a much seedier place than normal. Says very agitatedly that there's somebody who's been pestering him to meet me--it's Toga!!!!! Says he has something to do quick, but that she'll keep me company until he gets back (is she even old enough to be in here???). Once he does though? We sure are bookin out of there. The place blows up in smoke once we're a good distance away. "Alright. Let's report back to the boss."

Heathens - Meeting Shiggy and the rest of the LoV

Lithium - Hanging out and becoming friends with them!!!!!!!!! This is probably where the card scene I mentioned over here plays out!!!

Savage - Fast forward a bit and we're at another club. MUCH seedier. I got a bad feeling. And everyone is coming? Even Shiggy????? Oh something is def going down. (I'm sure there's a good reason why quirkless disabled me is tagging along here but I can't think of one so it's up to your imagination LMAO) Toga and Twice keep me entertained while I try to catch glances at whatever's happening in the back (I honestly think I want this to play instead but again this version isn’t on spotify)

DAYWALKER - IT'S POPPED OFF. Criminal things are happening and they're bad (just trust me). It gets more intense than I think I'm into, but I'm also getting VERY hype about it and idk what to do with that. At some point I get blood on me. Maybe some bruises if we're feeling spicy.

WANTED YOU - Return to the hideout. Dabi turns on some music. Everyone is laughing and acting like that was just typical fun and I am quiet in the corner trying to figure out if I am Traumatized or Awakened and much too high on adrenaline and drugs to figure that out. I eventually sneak off to the bathroom because boy I sure do still have blood on me and continue my crisis in there. Dabi eventually follows me. May or not be irritated/frustrated about me going along depending on why I decide I did. Otherwise he’s just begrudgingly concerned.

Mascara - 😏 😏 😏 He helps me clean up the blood and hushes me a little. Looks at me different. Kinda softer. Gettin kinda sensual. Gettin kinda confusing. Gettin real hard to think about morality with a hot villain's tongue down my throat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Problems - Y’know, if Dabi allowed himself even like an OUNCE of emotional interiority, he might notice that hushing and cooing at me and brushing through my hair while watching me sleep with him in his room probably means he Likes Me. idk tho.

Heart Shaped Box - Back to the normal vibing. Sometimes he's alone like normal and other times he's got LoV members and we play games and fully vibe!!!!! It’s different now though. Dabi kisses me in front of them and keeps me close, puts an arm around me. Still never calls me his girlfriend or anything so I am Confusion and stuck on Pining Road by myself. At least as far as I know. (these last 3 songs depict otherwise)

Freak - I don't know if I have a specific scene for this but the Feels are in bloom for both of us now at this point

Stuck on You - L O V E oh dear I wanna keep him oh no oh no. At the end of this sequence is when The Reveal drops and I see his video online. I ONLY see the endeavor parts because I'm too excited to watch the whole thing and immediately start texting him shit like EXPOSE HIM!!!!!!!!, OMG!!!!!!!, and the nail in the coffin, "I'm so fucking proud of you holy shit!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The Man Who Sold The World - Congratulations Arisa, your very innocent encouragement and praise has now unlocked MANIC TOUYA. He was starting to come down after the battle and everyone being sad over Twice's death and being unable to distract himself from it anymore, but he saw my messages and immediately swung right back up there!!!!!!!!!!! And it's the perfect excuse not to deal with guilt or sadness or any other shit!!! He doesn't change or cool down he just immediately is at my house pawing at me!!!!!! But he's literally still way too hot to touch me so he has me turn on music and he sits on my kitchen floor packed with ice looking more happy and giddy than I ever thought he could be. He asks me how much I saw before retelling the story. This is important =)

Change - I can't stop looking at him. He looks ethereal with the white hair. Satan-like--light hair, light eyes...a true fallen son. And he's just on my floor, giddy like a kid, more light in his eyes than I've ever seen. I thought he was talkative when he was high lol. I don't have enough sense about it to realize I'm making him worse looking at him like that. Hanging on his every word. Telling him how great he is, how cool, how proud I am. He tentatively reaches out to touch me and it doesn't burn, so he slowly moves himself to be back at my level...

I Wanna Be Your Dog - "Dabi, huh?" His voice drifts off. He brushes a piece of hair from my face before meeting my eyes again. "It's a little formal for my girlfriend to call me by my villain moniker, don't you think?" He leaned in closer. "What's my name, doll?" I can't stop my own smile. "You've never called me your girlfriend before." "Did I have to?" His lips are at my ear, and he asks again, "What's my name?" It feels just as good to say it as I think it does to hear. "Touya." "Again." "Touya." I say it a little sing-songy this time. "Louder." He nips playfully at my neck, forcing a giggle out of me. I push him back so I can see his face. Meet his eyes up close. Glassy from the heat and bright and frenzied all at the same time. My own mouth starts to mimic the wild smirk on his face. I think the euphoria's contagious. "Touya motherfucking Todoroki!" (and then it's on lmao) 

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - We are now in super fluffy territory for the rest of the night (and I do mean rest of the night cause he is far too Up to sleep and keeps waking me periodically but he’s so soft about it that I don’t even complain like I should) cause omg I am officially the Only Girl Ever and I didn't immediately drop him when the reveal happened and he beat up his dad which is what he figured so I am also The Only One Who Gets Him and his brain is like 'congrats you've met the requirements to receive EMOTIONS so here's everything you actually feel for her all at once!!!!!!!' so he is HELLA love bombing and being incredibly sweet and romantic and very cute and everything is so, so great our friends are not dead, dying, fucking possessed, or mourning there's only stuff to celebrate don't think about it just trust me I love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Secrets - So first red flag, he stayed the night and was not gone when I woke up. 2nd, he still doesn't want to leave--"Shouldn't you have like, League stuff to do after dropping a bomb on the foundation of Hero Society?"--and is now back in my kitchen making breakfast? And I'm starting to put together that he's avoided something, but I'm very blinded by the hearts in my eyes so I shrug it off and choose to coast these honeymoon vibes as far as they're gonna take me. And oops, they take me as far as me grabbing my phone that was conveniently tossed aside last night. I got messages from both toga and ochako, telling me everything going on on each side. Twice is dead and so might be Bakugou, Tomura’s possessed???? I guess????? and he fucking put SHOUTO in the hospital as well, not just Endeavor, and opted to keep all this info from me on purpose to live out his lil manic pixie daydreams and avoid his feelings!!!!! "where are you????" "is dabi with you? where are you??” I give him one chance to tell me the truth and he does not. so.

 Forgive Me - FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!!! This gets pretty heated and yell-y. Me being upset that he hurt Shouto—because yes I’m not stupid I know you two are gonna hurt each other I know it’s gonna be you or him or neither of you that comes home one of these days I know it’s a war but you have to at least give me space to fucking MOURN when that happens!!!!!!— is a specific issue that's a problem for him, because no you are not allowed to even fucking LOOK at the sibling I hate and any attempt to do so is immediate betrayal. "Oh everybody loves Shouto, don't they?" "...Don't do that shit." This ends with me saying "Be out of my house by the time I get back" 

W.D.Y.W.F.M? -  (probs a month later) "hey" "when I said to be out of my house, I didn't mean forever y'know" "...could you at least tell me if you're alive?" He doesn’t answer. I don’t hear from him again. The only updates I get are if I ask Toga. (which he hates lmao) It’s a pretty long while til I see or hear from him again, but when I do...well, you’ll have to wait until the other boards are posted ;p

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

A Writer’s Guide to Viewpoints

Most of us know that there are three major viewpoints from which stories are told:

First Person -- “I tell my own story with the pronoun ‘I’ because I’m just so damn awesome.”

Second Person -- “You are a character in this story, and you can’t do anything about it.  If it makes you uncomfortable, tough shit.”

Third Person -- “He muttered himself and pulled the blankets over his head, wishing this asshole would stop narrating his life.”

Those are the three viewpoints, and that’s all there is to it.  Just pick your favorite, and you’re ready to go.  Right?

Well.  Not exactly.  

You see, my fellow scribblers, there are actually multiple sub categories of each viewpoint -- beyond even the “Third Person Omniscient” or “Third Person Subjective.”

To be specific:

First Person:

First Person Informant

First Person Reminiscent

Unreliable

Second Person:

Reader as Character

I Substitute

Third Person:

Objective 

Limited 

Multiple Selective Omniscience 

Omniscient

This might seem overwhelming, but fear not!  Each perspective is fairly easy to break down, and ultimately, apply to your own work and understanding of literature.  This post will elucidate each.

So let’s take charge of our narratives and delve in, like the active protagonists we are.

What is the First Person?  

I’m sure we all know this, but a First Person narrator tells their story from the pronoun I (or sometimes we, though this is quite rare.)

The different factions of First Person narration are somewhat under-discussed -- certainly not as widely known as the Third Person Omniscient versus Objective viewpoints -- but, as these examples prove, they do exist.

As you read, you’ll likely think back to your favorite narrators, and realize that not all First Person viewpoints were created equal.

The First Person Informant:

“I’m telling it like it is.  As it’s happening.  I’m living in the moment, and watching it unfold with you.  Look at us, charging blindly into the future together.  Isn’t it exciting?”

This dude conveys the events as they transpire, or appear to transpire, in the present.  There’s no “once upon a time” for him.  Merely the unfurling now.

Examples:

“Vampires in the Lemon Grove,” by Karen Russel

“In every season you can find me sitting at my bench, watching them fall.  Only one or two lemons tumble from the branches each hour, but I’ve been sitting here so long their falls seem continuous, close as raindrops.  My wife has no patience for this sort of meditation.  “Jesus Christ, Clyde,” she says, “You need a hobby.” 

Russel’s narrator – a world-weary vamp navigating the tribulations of eternal love and insatiable bloodlust in an Italian lemon grove – is an excellent example of a first-person informant.  He isn’t telling us about the lemon grove as it was, but as it is.  The lemons fall before his eyes as they fall before ours.  We are in this lemon grove together.

“Natural Selection,” by Jacob M. Appel

“The stolen baboon.  On the evening news, she’s an irrelevancy -- a simian mug shot tucked between National Hairball Awareness Day and an interview with the Boston Strangler’s Children.  Six hours later, she’s lounger on the sofa in our living room, smacking together her protruded lips, scratching her back on the damask.  Suburban Tampa is apparently far more fun than a lab cage in Atlanta.”

Here, we are transported directly into a father’s dilemma after his well-meaning yet painfully naive and somewhat spoiled daughter “liberates” a mistreated lab baboon -- a decision that could effectively ruin both of their lives.  The informant perspective amplifies the reader’s suspense, as we are in the moment with him and can only discover the outcome by watching events unfold (or skipping pages.)

“What I Do All Day,” by Hellen Ellis

“Inspired by Beyonce, I stallion-walk to the toaster.  I show my husband where a burnt spot looks like the island where we honeymooned, kiss him good-bye, and tell him what time to be home for our party.”

This one is just great.  We are transported into the perspective of a seemingly chipper, affluent housewife as she quietly goes insane from suffocating domesticity and the horror of a meaningless life.  And, emphasized by the informant perspective, we feel all of this with her!  It is characteristically brilliant and hilarious satire from Ellis’s brilliant and hilarious collection, American Housewife.

The First Person Reminiscent:

“It was on a dark and rainy night when I decided to tell this story.  I tell it as I remember it, after these events have transpired.  Let’s look back on them together.”

In this perspective, the narrator is looking back on events after they have happened.  He isn’t describing these events as they unfold;  he is telling a story.

Examples:

Life of Pi, by Yann Martel

There are actually two reminiscent narrators here.  The titular Pi, and the author who has elected to tell his story.  

“This book was born as I was hungry.  Let me explain.  In the spring of 1996, my second book, a novel, came out in Canada.  It didn’t fair well.  Reviewers were puzzled, or damned it with faint praise.  Then readers ignored it.  Despite my best efforts at plating the clown or the trapeze artist, the media circus made no difference.  The book did not move.  Books lined the shelves of bookstores like kids standing in a row to play baseball or soccer, and mine was the gangly, unathletic kid that no one wanted on their team.  It vanished quickly or quietly.”

So opens this immensely clever novel, which, in all regards, blurs the lines between allegory and reality.  However, most of it is narrated by the eponymous Pi, who becomes this author’s muse.

“I've never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. The pain is like an axe that chops my heart.”

Here we have Pi, reflecting on his spiritual and allegorical companion, Richard Parker (an oddly named tiger whom we come to love as much as Pi does.)  Pi’s retrospective narration allows for the clear-sighted view of his complex feelings that can only come with time and distance.  Thus, this reminiscent narration enhances the power of the narrative.

The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”

My feelings towards J.D. Salinger are somewhat negative (I recommend you watch the documentary Salinger to figure out why) but this book is timeless for a reason.  This opening line offers up countless questions that leave you thinking long after you turn the final page.  Moreover, it impeccably establishes the voice that will carry us throughout its meandering narrative.  Catcher in the Rye would not be the same without its reminiscent narration, and this line establishes that.

Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

This opening line makes me somewhat sick to read, because, of course, it is the floral soliloquy a frothing, rabid pedophile, about a “four feet ten” twelve-year-old girl.  But, as a piece of art, it is still remarkably done -- the perspective of a monster, putting himself on trial before an imaginary jury, and telling a story that is invariably partial towards his warped perspective.  Once again, the retrospective is integral to this grotesquely fascinating narrative.

The Unreliable Narrator:

“I am the King of the Lizard People, and no one will acknowledge it but me.  Don’t believe me?  Too bad.  I’m the one telling this story, and you have no choice but to believe my dubious rendition of these events.”

It’s widely debated as to whether this should be its own category.  Why?  Because all first person narrators are inherently unreliable.  We just have little choice but to take their information as it’s denoted to us.  Oftentimes, they win our trust;  but other times, it is their unabashed unreliability that makes the narrative memorable.

Don’t believe me?  All of the past three examples were unreliable narrators.  And I examine several more in my post on types of unreliable narrators here.

In the meantime, let’s move on to the oft-underrated Second Person.  

What is the Second Person?

This highly controversial viewpoint uses the pronoun “you.”  Most people associate this perspective with amateur fanfiction or pretentious purple prose, but let me tell you:  when this perspective works, it is stellar.  And I’ll explain why.

The Reader as a Character

“You’re walking down the street, and you realize the narrator is talking about you.  Maybe you like this.  Maybe you don’t.  The narrator doesn’t care.  The narrator is a cruel and indifferent god.  You put in your headphones to tune the narrator out.  The narrator finds this incredibly rude.  You can’t escape me, motherfucker.” 

This is what most people think about when they picture a Second Person Narrative.  Okay, not this specifically -- being frank, most people probably think about reader-insert fanfiction (which can be amazing as well.)  This viewpoint asks the reader to imagine themselves as a character -- usually the main character -- in the narrative.

Examples:

“This is a Story About You,” from Welcome to Night Vale, by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Craner

“‘This is a story about you,’ said the man on the radio. And you were pleased, because you always wanted to hear about yourself on the radio.”

Even if you’re unfamiliar to this podcast, I highly recommend you listen to this episode (or read the transcript) immediately.  It shows you virtually everything reader-insert can be, and what a remarkable effect it can have.  It virtually envelops you in this perspective, this town, and this surrealistic reality. 

“The Young Immortal,” by Brooksie C. Fontaine (me!)

“When it started, it was the February fourteenth of 1945.  An American plane was hit in the engine by Japanese fire, fell from the slate gray sky like a shooting star.  Its blazing red reflection ignited the swell of colorless water.  And then it was gone, taking with it all the color in the world.

In that plane was my fellow air force pilot.  The love of my life.

You.

I know what you’re thinking:  you weren’t alive in ‘45, and you weren’t a man.  Well, I’m gonna tell you you’re wrong on both counts.  You’ve been a man before.  You’ll be one again.  It doesn’t matter to me, so long as it’s you.”

This one is unique, because it includes both the First Person Reminiscent (the eponymous immortal narrator) and the Second Person Reader as Character.  The reader is in the perspective of the narrator’s oft-reincarnated love interest, and so I decided to include it as an example. 

The “I” Substitute

“You were fifteen when you realized you could only get hard if you were thinking about carnivorous dinosaurs.  Not me.  You.  This has absolutely nothing to do with me, and I resent the insinuation that it does.  This is your problem, dino-fucker.  This is your story.  This is about you.” 

This one’s interesting.  The narrator is in denial, and using the second-person to distance themselves from the events of the story.  It is a substitute for the First Person, and a thinly-veiled one at that.

Examples:  

“Freaks,” by Alden Jones

“From the cluster of mourners, Kristen’s mother had emerged; she strode towards you.  Her straight brown hair was limp and flyaway.  She wore the expression of an animal who wanted to devour you.  Her eyes were cushioned by the bluish puffed skin beneath them, but they flashed hot with fury.

‘You,’ she said.  She pointed her finger.  She began to gallop.  ‘You think you see something no one else sees?’  she called.  Mourners turned to watch her progress towards you.  Heather took a step away.

You dangled the camera by your side.  You froze.  You did nothing but watch the thing happen.

‘YOU,’ the mother said, charging.  ‘YOU.  YOU.’”

These are actually the concluding lines of this haunting story from Jones’s collection, Unaccompanied Minors.  I had the pleasure of hearing her read this story for my graduate program;  in the Q&A afterwards, she explained how the narrative, and the characters’ mentality throughout the story, depended on the Second Person.  “It was a different story without it,” she said.  

“The Other Person,” by Nathan Leslie

“You write the story in the second person.  It’s your go-to point of view now.  You like it’s edge, its resonance of irony, even if your story lacks said irony (it adds irony).  You makes anything possible.  You is the new me.” 

This one is simultaneously hilarious, sad, and strangely invigorating.  It encapsulates the deep trenches of insecurity that come with being an author, and whittles them into sharp, sly satire.  The “I” Substitute doesn’t just emphasize the story;  it is the story.  This story would not exist without it.

Now that I’ve successfully changed your mind about the Second Person (and if you still don’t agree with me, you’re wrong), let’s move on to the ever-popular yet difficult-to-master Third Person. 

What is the Third Person? 

You know what the third person is, but I’ll suspend my disbelief and pretend you don’t.  It uses the pronouns he, she, or they, but the perspective can be virtually anywhere.  Which makes the Third Person such an interesting thing to explore.

Third Person Objective

“She slaps him.  He touches the red mark her ring left behind, and stares at her with wide eyes.”

This one is also known as The Dramatic, The Camera Lens, or The Fly on the Wall perspective.  It describes the events as we would view them, with no inside information into the thoughts or motivations of the characters.  What we see is what we get, and we have to discern the characters’ feelings based on what they say and do.

Example: 

“Meanwhile.  A Conversation,” from American Gods, by Neil Gaiman

“‘Miz Crow?’ 

‘Yes.’

‘You are Samantha Black Crow?’  

‘Yes.’

‘Do you mind if we ask you a few questions, ma’am?’

‘Are you cops?  What are you?’

‘My name is Town.  My colleague here is Mister Road.  We’re investigating the disappearance of two of our associates.’

‘What were their names?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Tell me their names.  I want to know what they were called.  Your associates.  Tell me their names and maybe I’ll help you.’ 

‘...Okay.  Their names were Mister Stone, and Mister Wood.  Now, can we ask you some questions?’ 

‘Do you guys just see things and pick names?  “Oh, you be Mister Sidewalk, he’s Mister Carpet, say hello to Mister Airplane?”’”

In this unique and hilarious chapter, we witness an exchange between (bisexual icon) Samantha Black Crow and a minor villain who has been assigned to track down the protagonist.  We aren’t privy to either of the characters’ emotions or thoughts, or even their actions, yet we can discern all of it from dialogue alone.

Third Person Limited 

“She’s had enough of his bullshit.  Something in her snaps, and her open palm collides -- hard -- with the side of his stupid, stupid face.  He touches the red mark she left behind, staring at her like he can’t believe she actually did that.  Good.  Maybe that’ll teach him to stop being such an pugnacious fuckwad.” 

This one is tethered to a specific character, whose thoughts and feelings we are aware of.  However, we are not inside the mind of the character in the same manner as a First Person narrator.

Examples: 

American Gods, by Neil Gaiman

“Shadow had done three years in prison.  He was big enough, and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time.  So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.”

Though American Gods features an impressive diversity of perspectives, we spend most of the book tethered to the lovable ex-con Shadow Moon.  We are never trapped inside his head, as we would be if the story were First Person, but we know what he is thinking and feeling.  He is our viewpoint character.

The Giver, by Lois Lowry 

“It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened.  No.  Wrong word, Jonas thought.  Frightened meant that deep, sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen.  Frightened was the way he had felt a year ago when an unidentified aircraft had overflown the community twice.  He had seen it both times.  Squinting toward the sky, he had seen the sleek jet, almost a blur at its high speed, go past, and then a second later heard the blast of sound that followed.  Then one more time, a moment later, from the opposite direction, the same plane.”

Lois Lowry’s timeless, haunting dystopia is introduced through the guileless eyes of twelve-year-old Jonas.  We are aloud to see the world from his perspective, but the distance of Third Person Limited allows us to feel the horror of each situation with more clarity.  Lowry demonstrates how to utilize POV to one’s advantage, similar to how Neil Gaiman uses Third Person Limited to enhance the horror of his masterful modern fairy tale Coraline.

Multiple Selective Omniscience 

“She decides she’s had enough of his bullshit, and slaps him.  Hard.  Hard enough that her ring leaves a red welt on his cheek.

He feels his eyes go wide, and he touches the side of his face.  He keeps waiting for her to apologize, but her eyes are narrowed and her lips are pursed.  She doesn’t look sorry.”

The viewpoint shifts between characters.  It can be extremely effective, as long as we are aware of when the proverbial camera changes angles.

Examples: 

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith

First of all:  if you haven’t read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, do it.  Do it right now.  It is the piece of classic literature I recommend to everyone who hates classic literature, because it’s devoid of all of the traits that make people hate classic literature to begin with.  It has oodles of complex, idiosyncratic, autonomous, and tough-as-hell female characters, bad language, and frank discussions of sexuality, poverty, and classism.  Read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.  

Anyway.  Though its protagonist is Francie Nolan, who, like the eponymous tree, perseveres and thrives against insurmountable odds, the viewpoint bounces around an immense deal, between Francie’s family and neighbors to the most minor side-characters.  Because of this, many people believe that the true protagonist is Brooklyn itself, and the people in it. 

The Twelve Tribes of Hattie, by Ayana Mathis 

This is a captivating, gut-wrenching book, similar to A Tree Grows in Brooklyn in its highly effective depiction of poverty.  The book follows the children of Hattie Shepherd, a formerly young and optimistic mother, who lost her firstborn twins to an easily preventable disease in the aftermath of the Great Migration.  The viewpoint changes with each chapter, showing the perspectives of each of her children and how they are haunted by this loss.

The Vacationers, by Emma Straub 

A far cry from its poverty-focused predecessors, this book focuses on the problems of the affluent and privileged.  It is, however, a deeply interesting read, as it swerves between the perspectives of the titular vacationers after a patriarch’s fore into adultery threatens his family and marriage.

Omniscient 

“She decides she’s had enough of his bullshit, and to his surprise, she slaps him.  Hard enough that he feels her ring leave a red welt on his flesh.

He touches his cheek in shock, and stares at her, awaiting an apology.  But she isn’t sorry.  All she feels is satisfaction.” 

Just what it sounds like.  The character is an all-knowing entity.  Or Lemony Snicket.  Perhaps both. 

Examples:  

Everything I Never Told You, by Celeste Ng

“Lydia is dead.  But they don’t know this yet.”

Celeste Ng’s beautiful and haunting novel begins with the wordless affirmation of the narration’s omniscience.  The narrative knows things the characters don’t, though it doesn’t always choose to relay its secrets.  In this case, it doesn’t answer the mystery of Lydia’s death until the very end -- an answer that the characters themselves will never discover.

The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.  Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat:  it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”

Tolkien’s book shows us how useful omniscience is for worldbuilding.  He doesn’t need to cleverly sneak this exposition into Bilbo’s dialogue;  he can tell it to us outright, and immediately draw us into this world while doing so. 

Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

“Current theories on the creation of the Universe state that, if it was created at all and didn’t just start, as it were, unofficially, it came into being between ten and twenty thousand years ago.  By that same token the earth itself is generally supposed to be about four and a half thousand million years old.  

These dates are incorrect.” 

This delightfully Pratchett-esque opening immediately puts us into a -- literally -- godlike perspective, in which we are given insider information about the start of the universe.  It immediately establishes the tone of this amazing novel:  one in which life and creation are too important to be taken seriously.  And for this purpose, this uniquely omniscient perspective is the only way to go. 

That’s all I’ve got for now, my fellow scribblers!  As you contemplate perspective, just think about how different the same events would look from a two disparate viewpoints.  Even if two people are sharing a moment, that moment is different for both of them.

The perspective isn’t something you tack on to your story.  Oftentimes, it defines your story.  So choose carefully, and don’t be afraid to explore!

Happy writing, everybody!  <3

[captainsassmanes]

Just a Goodbye

My version for @pastelwitchling 

“You’ve been an asshole lately. What’s going on?”

Michael froze with a fry to his lips, eyebrows knit together. “Nothing’s going on, asshole.” He tossed the fry at Max and they laughed. It had been a long road back, rebuilding their relationship but today, sitting together at the Crashdown, he felt content.

“Seriously though,” Max took a sip of his shake, eyes shifting over to watch Liz greet a new set of customers. “You’ve been more surly than usual. Snippy.”

Shrugging, Michael kept his eyes on his food. “I dunno. I guess I’ve been feeling, kind of, wound up?”

“Everything okay with Maria?”

Michael nodded, taking a bite of his burger and resisting the urge to spit it out. Everything tasted like nothing lately. “Yeah we’re fine.”

With a smirk, Max muttered, “romantic.”

The truth was something wasn’t sitting right anymore. The time he spent with Maria had always been quiet, no expectations, no fear, no nerves. He could just exist and laugh and breath. But lately it didn’t feel like enough.

“I’ve been wanting simple for a long time, you know? Someone not so tangled up in our extraterrestrial bullshit that they couldn’t just be with me. And Maria is perfect. I can just be myself. No pressure.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

Rolling his eyes, he stole Max’s shake and took a big gulp, ignoring the stink eye he got in return.

“Alex.”

“Alex?”

“Alex.”

“Why Alex? I thought you guys were friends?”

Michael scoffed, drawing designs in the green froth with the straw. “Can you just be friends with someone you love?”

“I’d never be able to be Liz’s friend after all this.” Michael looked up to witness Max’s dreamy gaze drift back to Liz who stuck her tongue out and winked back. “But I also can’t imagine not having her in my life so, I guess I don’t know…hey!”

Max wiped the milkshake Michael had flicked in his direction off his face.

“Thank you, Maxwell. Very helpful.”

“Well I don’t know! If you love Alex why the hell are you with Maria?”

“I just told you why!”

“You just told me why you decided to be with Maria in the first place. You didn’t explain why you’re still with her.”

“Oh, shut up, Deputy.”

They both chuckled and went back to their food, Michael mindlessly shoving one fry after another into his mouth while his mind raced. He thought he loved Maria; when they were alone, laughing and holding onto one another, he felt peaceful and was sure it was love. But in the rare moments he dared to compare it with his feelings for Alex…

“Write it down.”

Michael raised his eyebrows and looked around, confused. “Huh?”

“It’s how I coped when I loved Liz but couldn’t tell her. I wrote her love notes. Helped me deal for a while.”

Snorting, Michael said, “we’re not all Tolstoy, buddy.”

Tossing a fry at Michael’s forehead, Max muttered, “fuck off, I’m serious. Write him a note, explaining everything or apologizing or ending it or whatever you need.” He shrugged and took a bite of his burger. “I kept mine ‘cause, well, you know. But you could rip yours up or burn it, whatever dramatic choice you wanted to make.”

“You boys need anything else?”

“Yeah,” Michael smiled at Liz and rested his chin in his hand. “I’ve gotta know how you do it.”

She smiled and tilted her head, ripping their bill from her pad. “How I do what?”

“Deal with this cheesy motherfucker.”

**********

That night, he’d left the Pony a bit early, giving Maria a quick kiss and apologizing for not staying, offering some excuse about files to review or formulas to work on. He couldn’t even remember.

He sat in the airstream, crickets chirping loudly outside, with a tiny lamp illuminating the space. Bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his head against the cool aluminum and stared at the blank piece of paper, twirling his pen between his fingers.

Glancing towards the door, he remembered the first time he’d seen Alex in almost a decade, how beautiful he looked but the way he stood, obviously prepared for a battle. Michael grimaced when he remembered his words, a real Manes man.

How many times over the months, years, had he said the wrong thing? Made Alex feel small when he may have had the power to help him feel tall again. Crawling out of his too small bed, Michael opened up a box and pulled out his favorite photo. Alex looked so relaxed, even though he still carried too much weight for a seventeen-year-old kid. The years had only added to that pressure, made his shoulders slump a little more each day with the burden of this world and, at least, one other.

He kicked off his boots and shimmied out of his pants, crawling under the covers and grabbing the paper and pen once more, his favorite photo resting on the covers beside him.

********

It was a few days later that Max had shown up at the ass crack of dawn to pull Michael out of bed so they could surprise Isobel. He’d been doing that now and then, seemingly determined to make sure the three of them remained close, all feeling needed and loved.

Michael wasn’t complaining.

They’d picked up coffee and bagels from Bean Me Up and had a relaxing morning catching up and gossiping, enjoying the perfect weather.

“Did you end up taking my advice?” Max looked at Michael over his coffee once the inevitable subject of his romantic life was brought up.

Nodding, Michael sighed. “Yep. It wasn’t too bad if I do say so myself.”

“Fill me in please.” Isobel leaned back in her chair, long legs crossed and swinging playfully.

Michael pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head with a smile. “I guess I’m having a hard time letting Alex go? I’m happy with Maria but it feels like something changed.” He watched Isobel’s eyes soften and had to look away. “Our resident writer suggested I put pen to paper to move on.”

“Or not,” Max pushed Michael’s knee with his foot. “Could just help you process it all. Don’t have to make any final decisions.”

“Nah, I’m alright. I feel better about it already, I think.”

“He thinks,” Isobel smirked towards Max who nodded in agreement, eyebrows furrowed in false seriousness. “He thinks.”

“Ah, fuck you both.”

He laughed with his siblings as his heart sank.

********

Max dropped him off at the airstream a few hours later with the promise of a free beer at the Pony that night. He was surprised to find Maria sitting around the fire pit, eyes on a fire that sat extinguished.

“Hey. I didn’t know you were coming over.”

She nodded slowly; eyes fixed on his. “I lost my phone and thought it might be here.”

“Ah,” Michael said as he took the seat next to her. “You could have let yourself in, taken a look. You didn’t need to wait for me.”

“Oh, I didn’t.”

Something began to shift uncomfortably inside of Michael, realizing too slowly that something wasn’t quite right with Maria. “You okay?”

She smiled as tears welled in her eyes. “No, I’m not.”

Michael reached out for her, but she stood quickly and moved out of reach. He watched as she faced away from him, listened as she steadied her breath.

“A veteran move as you limp into frame, longing to be your crutch, I want to consume your pain.”

“Maria, wait- “

“So I loosen my belt, a familiar feeling, ten years later and my heart’s still reeling.”

“Maria, just stop and listen- “ but she continued, undeterred.

“Then you show up on my porch, floating down the stream, while I swim uphill, running out of steam.”

As Maria’s voice cracked, Michael held his head in his hands. He never meant for anyone to see what he wrote, let alone Maria. But there was something undeniable about hearing his words out loud. Something he couldn’t walk away from anymore.

“Lies upon lies, thighs upon thighs, of a woman’s touch but damn that guy.” He grimaced as Maria’s voice broke. She turned to face him, crumpled paper shaking in her delicate hands.

“The one who lifted my heaviest sighs with ease. Too much pride to beg; I’ll let my looks say please. So ignore my words, this is where I stand. You’re a pretty little liar, and I’m your man.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Michael’s heart ached at the look on Maria’s face and he wanted nothing more than to comfort her, to make that expression vanish.

“It’s just a poem, Maria.”

“For Alex.”

“It’s nothing. It’s a last goodbye.”

As a tear danced down her cheek, she shook her head. “You think that poem was a goodbye?”

Michael stood, legs feeling like jelly and out of his control. “I know it was. I wrote the damn thing.”

“When did you write it?”

He buried his hands in his pockets and stared at the sand covering his boots.

“Michael.”

“A couple days ago.”

Scoffing, she took the few steps to stand in front of him, taking hold of his face and forcing him to look at her. The paper in her hand left a small papercut on his cheek.

Her gaze was intense, making him feel naked, too exposed. He tried to pull away, but she just held on tighter. Michael felt his eyes fill, hands coming to her wrists in a silent plea.

“Fuck you, Michael.”

He nodded, finally able to avert his eyes. She dropped her hands and gently pressed the poem against his chest. He quickly covered her hand with his and their eyes met again, both crying and flayed open.

“I knew, Michael. I just kept hoping you’d grow to love me as much as you love him.”

Swallowing, Michael whispered, “I tried. I promise I tried.”

She nodded and leaned into his warmth, arms wrapping around one another and swaying slightly, a last dance in the quiet of the desert. Eventually, Maria pulled back and wiped her eyes, looking around at everything but Michael.

Clearing her throat, she took a step back and pulled her keys from her pocket. “Stay away from the Pony for a while, okay? I need time.”

He nodded and said, “yeah. Of course.”

She nodded in return and walked toward her truck, stopping with the door open and one foot inside.

“That,” she pointed at the paper in his hand, blowing gently with the breeze, “is not a goodbye. It’s a confession.”

Michael watched as she drove away, the dust clouding his view as she left.

He looked down at the paper, reading his poem through blurry eyes. Roughly wiping at his face, Michael carefully folded the paper and tucked it in his back pocket.

In something of a daze, Michael walked into the airstream, sitting on the edge of his bed with his phone in one hand, the photo in the other. He took a deep breath as he hit send, leg bouncing with nerves and a naïve sense of excitement as the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Alex. It’s Michael.”

“Hi. You okay?”

Michael smiled. “Yeah. I was just hoping you could come over. I wanna talk to you.”

His heart raced as Alex said nothing, the seconds ticking away with his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Uh, yeah, of course. What do you need?”

“You.”

[sunflowersunshinevol6]

Pomegranate

Part One

Pairing: Harry Styles x OC

Warnings: gang activity, drinkng

Summary: A retelling of the myth of Hades and Persephone with a modern mob twist.

Word Count: 4.1k

Stephanie has spent the first twenty four years of her life sht in away from the world by her worriesome mother, who refuses to let anyone hurt her daughter after her lovr abandoned them. But when Harry Styles, one of the big three Olympi ‘brothers’, stumbles upon her, he has to have her, at whatever cost

A/N: I really loved this one. It’s one of my favorites. I hope you guys enjoy it. PLEASE send me feedback, questions and asks are always appreciated. Love you all!

“What if the real story was completely different? What if it was Persephone in control and not Hades at all? What if she was bored of the flowers, discontent with her situation and wanted to make more of her life than the grass and trees could offer her?” 

-Nikita Gill

24 years ago

Demetra shook as the tears rolled down her face. Her fingers flexing on the steering wheel as she watched Zeke kiss Hellen again. Every look of fondness, every touch, was another stab to her broken heart. 

She watched them enter their home, as the door shut all the promises he had made to her falling down all around her, she placed a hand on her swelling belly, rubbing in smooth and slow circles. She hated him. She hated men. 

“I promise you little one….You will never ever feel this pain.” she narrowed her eyes as she put her car in drive. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Present Day

“Find me in the garden there, meet my eyes with lovely stare, take my heart and take my love, a wonder of my life,” Stephanie sang quietly to herself as she brushed her long black hair. Today was an important day for her and she wanted to look her best, it was the day her mother would be bringing her into the family business and teaching her how to run it. She gazed at her face in the ornate gold mirror on her vanity, studying her features, trying to gauge if she looked like a mature woman or rather a scared little girl. 

She felt like a scared little girl.

The family business was ruthless, cutthroat. And she had never been one for cruelty, she had a kind soul as her mother would say. But a kind soul could weaken the Kingdom they built, and as a woman, this high up, anyone was looking for an excuse to snatch the Kingdom keys from them. 

Stephanie had never been told exactly what it was her mother did, but she knew people feared her. Overhearing phone conversations and hiding under the table at dinner parties, she heard the way people spoke to her and the way she spoke to them. She knew what her mother did was dangerous and she knew it was a big responsibility for her, to make sure she held the Kingdom up with as much grace and cutthroat as her mother did. 

She just wasn’t sure she had it in her.

“Never trust men. Men are cruel, evil. Once they get what they want from you, they toss you aside.” her mother brushed her fingers along Stephanie’s cheek fondly. “That’s why I have to keep you hidden away. To keep you safe.”

Her mother’s words rang in her mind.

She never knew her father. Her mother never spoke of him. The only thing she knew was that he headed an organization that worked in conjunction with theirs. She didn’t know if he knew of her existence or if he and her mother ever worked directly together. Any attempts to ask about him were shut down swiftly and harshly. 

“Stephanie?” her mother’s voice rang through the door, accompanied by a light knock. Stephanie stood, smoothing down her pink and yellow sundress as Demetra opened the door. “Oh look at you.” she smiled wide, making Stephanie feel proud, Demetra locked her arm through her daughter’s, pulling her out of the room. “Are you excited today?” 

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to go out and see what you do.” Demetra was an overprotective mother. When Zeke, Stephanie’s father, went back to his wife and abandoned them, she vowed her daughter would never experience the hurt and rejection she had faced. And so, Stephanie had been homeschooled, had limited access to the outside world and people. Her friends were her books and her films. She had been hidden away. 

A guard stood outside the front door, and one stood next to a white buick with the backdoor open. Stephanie held her mother’s hand as they walked to the car. 

“Hi!” Stephanie said pleasantly, the guard only nodded, shutting the door after Demetra climbed in beside her daughter. 

“The Warehouse please.” she said to the driver. The man started the car and Stephanie looked outside with fascination. 

“I’ve never left the property before.” she said absentmindedly, Demetra only smiled, extending her hand to her daughter. 

“I know you’ve waited years for this.”

-*-*-*-

“What do you mean you can’t find him Niall? That’s your job.” Harry turned away from the boxer practicing, he was going to ring necks if someone didn’t find Hayden, and they better find him fast. 

“Look all I know is that Amelia said he was going to Demetra to drop some product off and then he’s going to Zeke. I can text Zeke-”

“No,” Harry interrupted, grabbing his coat, Alan was a winner, he would be the one to bet on in the fight so he wasn’t worried. Business before pleasure. “I’ll go to Demetra’s Warehouse, maybe catch him outside.” he ended the call after Niall said good bye. 

Harry had been apart of the Olympi Gang since he came to America. It felt like years ago he’d arrived with dreams of being a musician, but rejection after rejection left him heartbroken and destitute. That’s when he’d met Louis, another Brit from Doncaster,a sassy motherfucker who had helped him learn how to navigate the streets and do what needed to be done to survive. His initiation had been one hell of a beating, but he got that OG tattoo the very next day, busted eye lid, cracked ribs and all. The pain had been worth it. He’d moved up quickly, hustling with his good looks and charm. Zeke had said he was born for this when he finally made him one of the ‘brothers’. He was the youngest-by years. But he had  sharp tongue and a wisdom of the streets that couldn’t be matched. He couldn’t even remember why he really came here in the first place. 

But only sometimes.

Demetra’s territory was on the other side of the city. Rural area. The last place you’d expect major operations like theirs to go down. But she had a green thumb, and worked her magic in gardens, growing vegetables and fruits, grains, flowers, she single handedly fed the city with her crops, having bought out all the farming land. It was the perfect cover. 

-*-*-*-

The car pulled into the warehouse parking lot. ‘Demeter Organics’ was painted in bright red above the warehouse doors, trucks were being loaded, people were walking about here and there. Stephanie was excited and amazed, she had never seen so many people in her life. 

“Come on sweetheart,” Demetra said, touching her daughter’s arm lightly as the car door was opened. Stephanie followed her mother out, taking her hand once again as Demetra led the way into the warehouse. 

Stephanie was amazed. It was huge, large fluorescent lights hanging overhead, people standing at tables or on forklifts, lifting and loading boxes, shelves stacked high with an assortment of things. As Stephanie looked around she could see many of the people were manufacturing weapons. Demetra cleared her throat, grabbing her daughter’s attention. 

“I know this must all be overwhelming for you,” she said, walking Stephanie down between the isles of workers. No one dared look up, everyone continuing to work hard as they walked by. “I want you to know I’m not a bad person. When your father and I started this years ago...This,” she waved at the workers around them. “Is what we had to do to survive. To thrive….All of it for you.” She smiled at her daughter. “But as the years past I was able to step out on my own. To create something of great value to this city and the world.” The stopped outside another door. Demetra turned to Stephanie, taking her daughter’s hands in hers. “Are you ready?” she asked. Stephanie’s hard was pounding. 

“Im ready mom.” a guard opened the door behind them. It creaked and groaned as it moved, the warm summer breeze hitting Stephanie’s face, as sunlight shone in. 

“Welcome to the garden Stephie,” her mother pulled her outside. 

Two large greenhouses stood side by side. Men in white suits with netted hats, tended to bees just to the left of them and beyond that was fields of vegetation. Tractors pulled and people picked fresh food and flowers, working at benches to clean and package the fruit. The smell in the air, the heavy scent of flower perfumes invaded her senses. She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. 

“It’s beautiful.” she whispered in awe. Demetra wrapped an arm around her, kissing the side of her head. 

“I know I’ve been difficult. But everything I’ve done was to protect you.” She let go of her. “But now I think you’re old enough. All this,” she waved a hand at the beauty around her. “It’s yours. The workers work for you. Everything but the business deals and contracts you are in control of.” She looked around in wonder. 

“Thank you momma.” she hugged her mother tightly, burying her face in her shoulder.

“Hello Ms. Demetra.” Stephanie turned her head to see an older woman with thinning white hair and wrinkles walked up to them. She shook Demetra’s hand, before turning her grey eyes to Stephanie. “You must be Stephanie. Pretty as a lily you are,” her hand felt rough and hard, she was a woman used to hard laboring.

“Hello,” Stephanie chirped with a grin. Demetra watched her daughter with fondness. 

“This is Annabeth. She’ll be working directly under you. Whenever you have a question or need something go to her.” Stephanie nodded, glancing behind her mother to see a security guard approaching. 

“Ms. Demetra, Hayden is here to see you.” Demetra let go of her daughter. 

“Alright. Set him in my office,” she touched Stephanie’s cheek gently. “Are you going to be alright?” Stephanie nodded, stepping back away from her mother. 

“I’ll be fine. I want to explore the garden if that’s alright?” Demetra chuckled.

“Of course.I’ll find you when we’re done.”

-*-*-*-

Harry pulled up at the back of the Warehouse. Whenever he came to visit Demetra, he always went through the garden entrance. Something about it felt so comforting and familiar. Maybe it had to do with his mom, he wasn’t sure, but Demetra could be a handful and he needed the walk to relax. 

Soft giggling met his ears when he shut the car door. It was a beautiful sound, like a melody.  he looked over into the sunflowers, blooming proudly and felt himself take in a sharp breath. 

The girl was like a vision. He watched as she walked through the flowers, touching them gently, with reverence, her long dark curls flowing behind her. She was barefoot, in a pink and yellow dress, it was the simplest thing, and it made his heart pound. Never had he felt that way before. 

He didn’t realize he had approached her until she gasped, startled by his appearance. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, she had beautiful dark eyes and full pouty lips that were turned down as she frowned at him. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She smiled, “It’s alright.” he liked that it met her eyes, he watched her visibly relax. “Do you work here? In the garden?” he shook his head. 

“No. Actually I’m here to see Demetra.” he stepped closer, unable to keep much distance from her. There was something warm and safe about her. He wanted to be around her and feel like this always. 

“She’s talking with Hayden right now.” So he is here. That was good. Harry could see the freckles beneath her eyes, that crossed the bridge of her nose. His hand twitched, he wanted to touch her, caress her face, play with her hair. Was this what love at first sight was? He hoped so. He smiled down at her. It was small and private. Just for her. 

"What is your name?" He asked, reaching up to brush his fingers against her rosy cheek. He couldn't help it, he hadn't meant to. But there was something about her that made him weak. Weak in the knees. He would do whatever she asked, no request was to great.

"Stephanie. I'm Demetra's daughter."

"Oh?" He was surprised, "I didn't know she had a daughter." The girl blushed, looking away from him and down at her feet. She was good. So sweet.

"She kept me hidden very well." There was slight pause, he studied her features, big brown doe eyes, looking anywhere but at him, soft pink, pillowy lips, long lashes, she had the cutest little nose, golden brown skin. She was soft. He wanted nothing more than to take her home with him.

"Look at me little one." He put his finger under her chin, tilting her face to look up at him. Their eyes met once more and he watched as her body visibly relaxed at his touch. She was astounding. "You are....a masterpiece." He leaned down, nose brushing against hers. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest-

"Steph!" Harry pulled back sharply as she whipped her head around. Hayden was making his way towards them, a suspicious look on his face.

"Hayden," Stephanie's cheeks were full on red with embarrassment now, hands clasped behind her back. Hayden put a protective arm around her shoulder.

"Your mother asked me to take you to Hollyn. We've been looking for you." He turned his eyes to Harry, stood expressionless. "Harry."

"Hayden....please come see me after you're done here with Demetra. I have some packages for you." His expression changed when he looked back as Stephanie, it softened. "It was lovely to meet you my dear." She smiled. It was breath taking.

"Likewise Mr. Styles." Hayden steered her away, back into the large warehouse, once out of earshot, he gripped her arm.

"You listen to me Stephie. You stay away from him. Understand?"

"But he was so nice. He was kind. Why?"

"Just remember your mother's teachings. And stay away from that man."

Harry called Zeke as soon as he got into his car.

"What?" Zeke's tone was annoyed, Harry heard the whimpering of some poor fool in the background.

"Did you know Demetra had a daughter?" He asked, he heard the sound of bones cracking and a scream of agony.

"Yes. She's my daughter. What of it?" Harry felt his blood run cold. It had taken him years as an affiliate to gain the position he had now, as one of the kingpins of this organization, but he still worked under Zeke. He would have to be careful.

"Nothing I just....I was surprised is all." He finally said, chewing his bottom lip nervously.

"She's beautiful isn't she?" Zeke asked, a fondness Harry had never heard in his tone before.

"Yeah. She really is."

"Harry? Do you like where you are? Your position in my family?"

"Yes. I'm grateful for it. I worked hard you know that."

"I do." Zeke hummed. "So let me give you some advice. You want to last long with us, you stay away from my daughter."

-*-*-*-

The ride to Hollyn’s house was quiet.” Stephanie thought about what Hayden had said. He didn’t press the issue and when they said good bye to her mother he didn’t mention their encounter with Harry Styles. So she kept silent, hand on her chin, gazing out the window and soaking in the new sights all around her. 

Hollyn lived in a little cottage in a neat suburban area. There was a lake and forest behind her house. When Stephanie was little she would bring trinkets and spells for her that she made herself. And pictures of the cottage so she could picture it in her mind. She was a self proclaimed witch and healer but was also Stephanie’s God mother and dearest friend. 

“We’re here.” Hayden said. He pulled up beside the cottage. It was cobblestoned, ivy climbing high up the side, the terrace wrapped in blood red roses, shrubs covered the front yard, a willow tree hanging over the roof. And fairy lights, leading all the way up to the house. 

“Wow.” Stephanie whispered, going to unbuckle her seatbelt. 

“Stephi.” Hayden put his hand over hers, she looked up into his hazel eyes. “You know...I’ve known you for years...what I said about Harry...I just want to keep you safe.” Stephanie leaned forward, kissing his cheek lightly. 

“I know Hayden. My mom couldn’t have gotten on without you. I love you too.” With that she hopped out of the car, bounding up the steps to her Godmother’s house.

-*-*-*-

“Did you know Demetra had a daughter?” Harry asked Niall. They sat in his living room, watching football, Niall shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. 

“I mean, doesn’t everyone in this bloody gang have kids?” Harry rolled his eyes. 

“I’m serious.” He couldn’t get her out of his head. “Nobody even knew. How fucking crazy is that? She kept her hidden.”

“Not to be an ass but why do you care so much?”

“I don’t.” Harry defended, he could feel himself blushing, Niall giving him a knowing smile. He licked his lips. “She’s Zeke’s daughter.” Niall raised his eyebrows at that. 

“My advice as your friend then...stay the hell away from her H. That can and will only bring trouble.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Harry snorted. “I just wondered if you knew.” They watched the rest of the game quietly, only commenting on it here and there. When it was over Niall stood up to leave. 

“You doin’ the ball thing tonight?” Harry rolled his eyes. Of course he was. He was one of the Big Three. Any major event he would be in attendance. “You bringing Marlene with you?” Marlene. The girl he fucked on the regular. Not his girlfriend, but familiar enough she usually went with him to events like the Ball.

“Of course.” Harry said. Niall gave him a cheeky grin. 

“Just checking.” 

Alone with himself Harry’s thoughts went back to Stephanie. The way his stomach flipped when he pictured her face made his hands twitch. Why did he have to want the one person he could never have.

-*-*-*-

 “Welcome home Stephi.” Hollyn said, embracing her Goddaughter gently. Stephanie held onto her, breathing in the familiar smells of Frankincense and lavender. She felt like she was home. 

Hollyn was older, around Demetra’s age. Her hair was jet black, tight curls that ran down her between her shoulder blades, and was always frizzy. Never one for makeup, her skin was smooth and soft, albeit there were some crows feet around her brown eyes. She always wore tank tops and long flowing skirts, gems dangled off her body. She was the most magical person Stephanie knew. 

The house smelled of patchouli and sage. Plants grew and hung all over the place. Stephanie felt an odd calmness fall over her as Hollyn led her to the living room. She took the Laz-boy, while Hollyn sat on the couch. 

“So how are you? Today was your first day off the grounds.” Hollyn smiled. She loved Demetra dearly, but felt her helicopter parenting style was harmful. It broke her heart to never be able to take Stephi anywhere. A real life Rapunzel, except her mother wasn’t evil, just afraid.

“It was so exciting!” Stephanie gushed, her face lighting up. She talked about the garden and her mother believing she could do a good job managing it and how she couldn’t wait to get started. 

“It’s all so new I just...I want her to be proud.” Hollyn smiled.

“I’m glad Stephi. Truly.” 

“Hollyn?” Stephanie asked nervously. “Do you know who Harry Styles is?” she watched Hollyn stiffen, she sighed, setting her cup of tea down. 

“I do….You met him today?” Stephanie nodded. “You like him don’t you?”

“N...No! Of course not!” Hollyn chuckled, amused at how red her Goddaughter’s face went. 

“I would never tell you what to do. You’re a woman now. You make your choices but,” Hollyn lifted a finger, a small smile on her lips. “I caution you my dear. Just be careful. I’ve heard things. Though I’ve never met him, so who’s to say they’re true. I just ask you to use your head as well as your heart.” 

“You make it sound like we’re dating.” Stephanie said playfully. Hollyn shrugged. 

“Call it an old woman’s intuition.” she laughed. “Now,” she stood up, walking around to extend her hand to Stephanie. “Did your mother tell you why I wanted you here?” she shook her head. “The Summer ball is tonight. And you, my darling, are going.” Hollyn flinched as Stephanie let out a squeal, throwing herself at her Godmother. 

“How many strings did you have to pull?!” Hollyn nuzzled Stephanie’s nose affectionately. 

“A true witch never tells.”

-*-*-*-

Harry checked himself over in the mirror. A lavender colored suit with black velvet flower designs. He liked this one a lot. He was adjusting his pants when a soft knock on the door let him know his date had arrived. 

Marlene was a lower level dealer, but she was cute and they had met at a party about a year or so back. She was blonde, with green eyes and beautiful red lips. Some likened her to Marilyn Monroe. Harry didn’t really care, she was a good fuck. 

“Hey.” Marlene leaned up to kiss him, sighing when he cupped her cheek and kissed her back, but he wasn’t into it. Stephanie’s face flashed in his mind and he wondered what it would be like if he had kissed her. How soft would her lips be?

“Hello love,” Harry said, pulling back to take a look at her. Red bodycon dress, with matching pumps and a clutch, didn’t really match him, but they weren’t a thing so that didn’t matter. 

“You ready to go?” she asked. “The driver is waiting downstairs. Harry nodded, locking his apartment behind him. 

The balls were usually held at Zeke and Hellen’s home. A mansion on the outskirts of town in a gated community. Harry could have been their neighbor. But he liked his little loft apartment and the noise the city made at night.It was his lullaby. 

The house was already bustling with activity, lights shining in the driveway as couples chatted, and butlers served horderves. The gang would have these parties once every season, to bring the ‘family’ all together and to discuss how the business was running,the profit turns and fatalities. 

Hollyn squeezed Stephanie’s hand as their car pulled up outside of Zeke and Hellen’s house. 

“You look beautiful.” Hollyn complimented her. Stephanie took a shaky breath.

“I’m nervous.” she confessed. Hollyn chuckled, brushing hair back out of her Goddaughter’s face. 

“Don’t be. You’ve got this.”

The Ball was in full swing. Harry stood with Marlene on his hip, talking politely with Zayn and his girlfriend. A few more minutes of chatter and maybe he could convince Marlene it was time for them to head back to his place. He had some big shipments coming up and exhaustion wouldn’t be an excuse if he fucked things up. 

“Oh my God.” Gigi gasped, she was pointing at someone behind the group. “Who’s that?” when Harry turned, he had to force his jaw not to drop to the floor. 

It was Stephanie, Demetra’s daughter, coming down the staircase with Hollyn, arm in arm. She wore a simple white dress with spaghetti straps and a slit that went just above the knee on the left side. It looked soft, like it was made of silk, white sandals on her feet, her toes and fingers painted a baby pink. Her hair was pulled into a simple messy, but classy bun and the only makeup he could see on her face was the ruby red lip stain on her lips.

Stephanie’s heart was pounding as she ascended the stairs with her Godmother. She held onto Hollyn tightly, terrified she would fall over. She could feel the eyes on her and when she did look up she saw a pair of familiar green eyes staring back at her, her heart fluttered and her lips parted in a silent gasp. Harry looked as handsome as he had in trousers, a black t shirt and sunglasses. She couldn’t help but smile at him and give him a little wave. And her stomach flipped when he gave her the tiniest smile back and winked.

[ichiwashername-o]

Also just had my own father tell me in no uncertain terms if I ever so much as THOUGHT about opening my mouth and sharing my opinions, he would have no qualms cutting me out of his life.  The exact words escape me but he made it explicitly clear I have no right to speak my mind or say anything remotely “political” (aka call him out on racist bullshit)

So it’s good to know he doesn’t give one single fuck about me as a person.  The instant I voice my liberal opinions I am an “embarrassment” and I need to shut my mouth and say nothing as my entire conservative family continues to spew their hateful shitty opinions.  But I have to sit there and take it because I’m wrong about everything and don’t know what I talk about because I dare to think differently from the rest of my awful fucking family.

Guess what.  I’ve had it.

I’ll smile politely.  I’ll keep my mouth shut.  I’ll restrain myself from saying anything, even if my dad drops the “n” word with a hard “r.”  I’ll keep my mouth shut when he rants and raves about shooting looters and rioters in the streets.  I’ll keep silent when he tells me how much liberals are ruining everything.

And then I will cut him out of my life and I will never see or hear from him ever again.

Fuck him.  Fuck him.

I am a person.  I am a person with thoughts and feelings and I deserve to exist, not merely seen but also heard.  I am not a subservient obedient lawn decoration.  I am my own goddamn person.  I’ve taken this horrific abuse for 29 fucking years and I have had it.  You threaten to cut me out of your life because I dare to have a different opinion than you?  Guess what, motherfucker, the sword cuts both ways.

FUCK YOU.

I deserve better.

[dragonleesupporter]

Two Person Hoodie

 AN: I’m sorry this took so long to make. But it’s finally here now! Hope y'all enjoy! A continuation of this series:   Checking It Twice,  The Loudest Firework.

Warnings: Tickling, cursing, and Remus.

             Logan heard the door open to what was now their shared room.

               “Ah, Remus.” He grinned, putting his book down.

             “Surprise motherfucker!” Came a cheer as the duke danced his way in front of him, goofy smile on his face.

               “How was the tournament?” His smile widened at Remus’s excited eyes, firecrackers exploding inside them.

               “First prize, motherfucker!” He banged a fist into his chest like a gong announcing his victory.

               “Did you miss me?” Logan’s calm voice edged on teasing as his own smile matched the duke’s.

               “Heart eyes, motherfucker!” Remus’s eyes suddenly sprouted bleeding, pulsing hearts before they disappeared.

               Logan chuckled, happy Remus was in a good mood. “Also, did you finally get the sweater I ordered for you?”

               “Wrong size, motherfucker.” He did a backflip.

               “You have got to get off Tick Tock.” Logan sighed, shaking his head fondly.

               “No, seriously. The thing can fit two people in it!” Remus cackled as he took it out.

               “Oh, then it’s the right size.” Logan said, completely serious.

               “Huh?” Logan suddenly took the sweater from the green side and draped it over him.

               “The hell are you doing, you catholic priest? Quit dressing me!” He giggled playfully, wiggling into it regardless.

               “Shush.” Logan hissed.

               A big dark green sweater Logan had ordered for Remus with a giant orange gummy bear on it had arrived that day. Logan’s special sweater wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow for a special occasion they had planned. The sleeves of the sweater were fine, it was just the collar and body of the coat that had so much slack, it had to be the wrong size.

               Logan smirked suddenly, and wiggled into it, leaning forward and causing Remus to fall backwards onto the bed with a yelp. He couldn’t move. Logan’s head popped out of the collar, staring at him fondly.

               “Uh, what are you doing, nerdy wolverine?” Remus couldn’t help but ask, a little flustered as the warmth sprouted around him. Logan knew he loved it.

               The duke shivered at the feeling of Logan’s arms wrapping around him under the sweatshirt. It felt like little flutters of heat slowly getting more intense until they reached ultimate warmth. Logan knew the duke didn’t make much sense, but he knew that a hug was the melting point for a solid solution of Remus.

               Remus whimpered and whined, moaning as Logan massaged his back. He was surrounded by softness and warmth, and after a while could feel the teacher kissing his face slowly. His eyes rolled up. A two-person sweater for the best cuddling. Oh… this was nice.

               It was nice, until Logan started to slip away.

               “NO.” He held him tightly. “DON’T YOU DARE.”

               “Remus, I must get to work on organizing the next video. We’ll cuddle more afterwards.”

               “No!” He whined desperately.

               Logan sighed. This was always the hard part of cuddling with Remus. Since they officially became boyfriends, the teacher had begun to learn how to deal with Remus’s intrusiveness, but at the same time, Remus grew to learn respect… for Logan at least. But Logan kept seeming to forget… that Remus was also unpredictable, and vulnerable. Sometimes the duke’s intrusive thoughts would hurt him because of how much he loved Logan. A poor, twisted creature using his own negativity against himself. It had become a bad habit since he had grown slightly less selfish.

               “Remus, please let me go.”

               “No! What if you don’t come back?” Tears roll down his cheeks. “What you fuck my brother or someone r*pes you?”

               Uh oh. It was bad this time.

               “Remus, that’s highly unrealistic for what and where we are. I’m just going to do my part in making the next video.”

               Suddenly, Logan felt something slimy on his back. “Um… Remus? What is that?”

               Suddenly, the duke let him go- in fact he SHOVED him out of the coat. The dark blue side looked up and saw the sweater was puffed out and full of movement that suddenly disappeared. Remus looked panicked.

               Logan knew he had work to do, and didn’t mind leaving Remus when he was whiny or pouty, but not when he was like this.

               “What was that?”

               “Nothing!”

               “Don’t lie to me, Remus.” Logan warned in a low voice.

               Remus cowered in his sweater, which was odd since he rarely ever hid from Logan, or anyone for that matter, except Janus.

               “Remus, please. You can show me. Whatever it is, you of all people should know I wouldn’t judge.”

               The duke looked up shyly and one by one, ten slimly tentacles slid out from the edges of the sweater. Logan knew they existed, but he had never seen them before. He wasn’t worried about his schedule anymore… he NEEDED to examine these things.

               He took one into his hand, the pores were generating clear slime on top of green silky skin. He started feeling each suction cup on the bottoms of the moist appendages, gliding his nails along the top through the gooey outer skin. The tentacle started to wiggle and shake as if reacting to the attention. He could tell these things hadn’t had physical touch, and were learning how to respond to it. It kept leaping out of his grasp, yet it kept returning.

 “Very interesting…” Logan’s whole eye was nearly pupil with how wide they were, pocking and prodding, skimming and tracing… he was only awoken from his curious trance by a giggle and snort. Followed by more giggles and a few squeaks.

 His head whipped around to see Remus, red in the face with a hand pressed to his mouth, cheeks filled with air and his eyes squeezed shut.

 Oh. Logan smiled. He believed he had found a way to help Remus with his panicking. He traced a single finger along the top of one of the tentacles, making it dip as it tried to get away. As Remus struggled to keep holding his breath, he wiggled his fingers at the very tips, making them shake uncontrollably.

 A kettle whistle could be heard behind him as the teacher scribbled at the underside, his poor boyfriend a ticking timebomb. Now Logan had three of them trapped in a headlock, scribbling at the suction-cupped sides.

 He couldn’t hold it anymore. The dam finally broke.

“BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! LOHOHOHOHIEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!” He cackled and hiccupped, squirming and thrashing chaotically. “THAHAHAHAHAT TIHIHIHIHCKLES!”

 “Really? I didn’t notice.” Logan chuckled as he worked his way up the three tentacles in his grasp, Remus’s laughter getting more frantic the closer he got to their bases.

 Scribbling, poking, tracing, squeezing, it was driving him mad- well more mad than usual.

 “PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” He screamed, his whole body wriggling like a fish out of water.

 “Awwww, who’s a cute little ticklish duke?” Logan did not use his teasy voice often, but that tone mixed with the maddening feeling getting closer to his back made Remus turn redder than his brother’s room.

 “NOT CUTE! NOT CUTE! STOHOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” When Logan reached his back, where the tentacles were coming from, Remus absolutely screamed at the top his lungs, face steaming with tears flowing down it, his chest spasmed as his laughter grew silent.

 Logan let him go, and Remus fell to the bed, completely knocked out.

 “I’ll be back soon.” He smooched his cheek, as Remus panted, unconscious.

 Remus woke up a few hours later, still being alone in the room. As he recalled what happened, his face flushed, but the loud voices of his mind also started chanting a new word at him.

 “Revenge.”

 ***

Logan sighed as he entered their room again. He liked working and getting things done, but it was tiresome when the others bickered and made things harder. He looked around the room to see Remus wasn’t there, his annoyed tired state was quickly thrown to the side as he grew worried of where his boyfriend could have gone. Maybe he shouldn’t have left his alone when he fell asleep. There were bad places he knew Remus might go to if he got to be too much for himself. He turned around to exist the room and look for the duke just to realize it was shut and locked from the outside.

His panic subsided a little as it was replaced with confusion.

 “Looogie…”

 Uh-oh.

 He turned to run, but there was nowhere to go. A huge weight landed on top of him as he squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for the worst. Except… he was surrounded by Remus’s sweater, and was currently being cuddled by the overgrown green teddy bear of a boyfriend.

 This was odd, since Remus didn’t usually like to lead when it came to cuddles, but Logan had to admit, it felt nice to just sit there receive it. Remus smiled at him with wide puppydog eyes, holding back his evil smirk for the right moment.

 As soon as his guard was down, Logan felt the slimy tentacles wriggle under his shirt. He suppressed a squeak as they started poking and prodding his sides, getting some of the slime on him. He looked up at Remus to see a truly evil expression.

 He immediately knew what this was. Revenge.

 “R-Remus… L-let’s talk about this!”

 He only shook his head, covering Logan’s body with his slime. The teacher paled as he realized this was going to tickle even more now because of the slick substance on his skin. And the worst part… he was stuck in the sweater with Remus. With his tentacles present, both of them couldn’t move.

 “P-please! I-I-! N-no! Pffffftttt… hggggnnn…” He struggled to hold his breath as the green appendaged started wiggling and digging into his ribs.

 “Oh no.~ Is my wittle boyfwien ticklish?” Oh GOD, that voice he was using only made it harder to not laugh. He felt he was going to explode!

 “A cootchie cootchie coo! Tickle tickle tickle! Oh, you’re barely holding it together, huh?” Remus could now see why Logan had teased him and tickled him to bits, this was fun!

 His tentacles tickled everywhere, but Logan somehow held out, only letting out a few gasps until he found his feet.

 “GAH! NONONONO NOT THERE! NOOOOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus had no mercy in him, as his tentacles ruthlessly attacked his slicked-down feet, wiggling, poking, pinching, scratching, and- were those kisses?!

 Yes, Remus’s suction cups could kiss, but they could do one other thing.

  All the other sides could hear Logan scream at the top of his lungs as he could feel the things giving tiny RAPBERRIES INBETWEEN HIS TOES.

 “STAHAHAHAHAHAP! PLEASE! I CAHAHAHAHAN’T! I CAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT! REHEHEHEMEHEHEIIIIIIEEE!!!” Tears were absolutely pouring down his face, smile stretched to the point of pain, and his whole body felt like it was on fire as his senses were overloaded with the maddening feeling. He couldn’t think of anything else. Just laughter. Just tickling.

 When the others came to their room, worried expressions on their faces, all they found was Logan, tickled stupid, with Remus cuddling him and kissing slowly at his face, murmuring to him a deep yet sweet tone.

 Remus promptly shut the door in their faces and continued to massage and kiss at Logan, the teacher in heaven from the gentle touches, the dopamine rush and Remus’s calming voice smoothly lulling him to sleep.

  @smileheart110

@cefsticklestoo

@cefinitely-rolo

@did-he-just-hiss-at-me

@bexxbeauty

@ollyollyoxinfree

@cooliofooliosanders

@thestarswelcomemewithopenarms

@fluffymary