#ill keep making the trips to them instead

[floatyflowers]

Arthurian Legends | Dark Platonic King Arthur Pandragon x Daughter Reader x Dark Platonic Various

You are the twin of Mordred, and the child of King Arthur and Morgan Le Fay.

As you grew up, your mother mother shielded you, by placing protection spells on you, and also teaching you about healing using magic.

and she filled Mordred's head with hate on Arthur, claiming that he stole her birthright.

Mordred grew up with hatred in his heart towards Arthur, while you refused to hold ill intentions towards your father.

But that didn't stop you and Mordred from being inseparable and bonding as twins.

Whenever you have a suitor, Mordred gets rid of them with the help of his mother.

Morgan pushed you and your twin to reveal that you are his children at the court.

Mordred is quick to object on you coming with him, believing it to be dangerous.

"Mother, keep (Y/n) with you until I take revenge, I don't wish for her to meet the man who abandoned us and stole your throne"

"You and your sister have a connection, separation will only cause destruction"

You, on the other hand, did not want to ruin Arthur's marriage with Guinevere, yet you didn't wish to make your mother sad.

So, you started your journey with your twin.

Mordred made the first appearance by saving the king on a hunting trip, making Arthur knight him therefore he joins the Round Table.

Then Mordred introduces you to the court before announcing that the both of you are the children of the King

Arthur wanted to deny it even if he knew it was true, but when he saw how embarrassed you felt, he confirms it instead.

Later that day, you approach him and Guinevere shyly, stuttering out words of apology.

"I apologise for my brother's behavior and causing disturbance"

Your apology made Arthur obsessed with the idea of protecting you from any harm.

While Guinevere fall in love with the idea of you being her step-daughter.

She didn't have any children of her own, so you being her daughter is a really exciting thought.

Arthur makes sure to spend time with you bringing you on hunting trips with him and the knights of the round table.

He made you a tiara decorated with all types of rare stone gems for you to wear at all times.

Arthur would notice the closeness you have with Mordred which makes him decide to intask his son with many responsibilities so, you could spend more time with him instead of your twin.

"Your brother is occupied with his new responsibilities, allow to accompany you instead"

Merlin would grant you any wish you want, being more soft with you unlike how he is with Arthur when he was your age.

The old wizard also tries to advice your father to not keep you and your twin apart as it would might cause havoc.

But Arthur chose to ignore the warning, letting platonic obsession with you win.

On the other hand, Guinevere would take you with her on walks in the early morning.

Insisting you call her mother while she picks out expensive fabrics for the new dresses she ordered to be made for you.

"I wish for you to call me mother and to consider as such from now on"

"But, I have a mother, my queen"

"She is not here now, is she? I'm the wife of your father, so I'm your legitimate mother"

Mordred realizing that you are drafting away from him, your twin decided to cause chaos.

He exposed Guinevere in front of the whole court for having an affair with Lancelot, only to have his father cast her aside and order her death.

You try to reason with Arthur to spare her but seeing your love for her only made the king insistent on excuting.

The whole affair scandal caused a civil war.

Arthur decided to leave the kingdom and you in the care of Mordred while he went into war against Lancelot.

You helped Guinevere escape before she could get executed.

While Mordred seized the opportunity to ursurp the throne and become a king, allowing Morgan into the castle so all of you three could live together.

But you weren't pleased, taking a horse, you go to inform Arthur about what has occurred in his absence, making decide to return to reclaim the throne.

Thinking that Arthur has kidnapped and held you captive, Mordred almost went insane about how you, his twin, the other part of him, isn't by his side.

So, he went with an army to the battle of Camlann against Arthur's army.

The father and son stabbed each other severely, so both could die.

The end.

Actually, no, that's not the end.

Remember when your mother taught you about healing?

Well, it came to use, as you healed both Mordred and Arthur.

You made them both agree on peace, with Mordred returning the throne to your father, while Arthur forgives Mordred and open a new page.

Arthur banished Morgan, so she doesn't influence you and your twin ever again.

You, Arthur, and Mordred live in peace as a happy family.

A/n: I decided to give it a happy ending because I feel like it would be nice for a change.

[atlabeth]

table thief

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer's routine, thoughts, and plans are thrown off by a girl he meets at his favorite cafe --- not necessarily in that order.

a/n: i dont know where this came from but uh. enjoy this lil fluffy blurb! ill get to those 3k requests sometime. set during spence's time at caltech

wc: 1.6k

warning(s): none, all fluff

Spencer’s mind is a whirlwind of information while he stands in line at his usual coffee shop, trying to keep everything in order as he goes over everything he needs to get done. It’s a particularly busy afternoon for him, hence his coming here directly after class instead of stopping by his dorm. 

There’s a research paper for him to finish, office hours to make for his most elusive professor to get some questions answered—why she only has them open for two hours on Wednesdays, Spencer has no idea—a thousand papers to grade for the class he’s a TA for, and naturally, a coffee to give him the energy for the rest of what is going to be a long night. 

Of course, he knows he should probably try and do it without caffeine—it’s one of the most popular drugs in the world, and most people live in ignorance of their obvious addiction to it—but Spencer has decided to forgo some caution in the name of getting all his work done. 

He doesn’t really have a choice, honestly. He’s planned out this whole day meticulously, much like every other day. He packed his bag with everything he would need for the rest of the day so he wouldn’t have to make the aforementioned stop at his dorm, he picked the line with the barista that has never gotten his order wrong—and, he’s realized over numerous trips to this shop, is the fastest in the entire cafe—and his usual table is big enough to hold all of his books and papers. 

But as Spencer finishes pouring in his last bit of sugar, he realizes his meticulous plan is foiled before he can even take the first sip. 

Because his table is taken. 

The table he sat at the first time he stopped in here before class and the table he has sat at every other time since, the table that has honestly become a part of his routine and is the only one big enough for all of the work he has to get done this afternoon, is taken by some woman wearing a Caltech sweatshirt and reading a book. You’ve got your own thermos in front of you, so at least you care about the environment, but that thought doesn’t stop the flareup of annoyance inside of him. 

You have to be a student, and you have to be his age, and you have to either be oblivious or have a whole lot of nerve because Spencer has seen you around campus and in this coffee shop before. That means you know this is his table and you still took it anyway. 

“That’s my table,” Spencer says, and after it leaves his mouth he’s able to hear how stupid he sounds. It’s a table in a public coffee shop. Of course he has no claim to it—just because it’s obvious to him doesn’t mean it’s obvious to you. You probably didn’t even know. 

You look up from your book, and the second stupid thought to hit him is how pretty you are. “I know.”

He frowns. He can’t think that table thieves are pretty, especially ones with apparent malicious and knowledgeable intent. “You— you know?”

You nod. “I’m here almost as much as you are, Mr. Reid.”

“Doctor Reid,” he corrects, almost on instinct. 

Your eyebrows rise. “Doctor?”

“I have two PhDs,” he explains, though he feels even more stupid doing so as he gets on the edge of stammering. “I’m working on a third. Chemistry.”

“And already I know more about you in a minute than I’ve gotten in the past month,” you muse. “That’s why I took your table, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer frowns even more. “You took my table so I could tell you about my PhDs?”

“So I could get an excuse to talk to you,” you correct. Your smile grows a bit and you huff a quiet laugh, more to yourself than anything. “You’re a little intimidating.”

That gets him completely, his brows furrowing deeper yet. “I— I’m intimidating?”

“Well, yeah,” you say. “You’re a gorgeous guy who always looks like he’s got something to do, so I never wanted to interrupt you. But I really wanted to ask you out, so I finally decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Spencer feels like his brain is short circuiting. He’s still stuck on the intimidating comment, and he’s still kind of annoyed that you took his table, but you specifically went out of your way to get his attention and now you’re calling him gorgeous— 

Just who the hell are you? 

“You’re not busy, are you?” He’s drawn out of his head temporarily as you speak again, dazzling smile still on display. “I would get it if you were. I mean, third PhD and all.”

“No,” he says immediately, shaking his head far too rapidly, “no— no, I’m not busy.”

He just has a whole lot of work to do, work that he came specifically to this cafe to do, but you’re throwing him off of everything in the first five seconds of knowing each other. 

“Wonderful.” Your smile grows and Spencer feels his face grow hot. He finds his annoyance quickly fading, replaced with some mix of confusion and interest and embarrassment. “If you’ve got the time, I’d love to sit down and talk some. Get to know you a bit.”

And again, Spencer hardly even knows what to say. He— he doesn’t talk to girls. Girls don’t talk to him. But here you are, stealing his table and flashing pretty smiles and wanting to get to know him— wanting to ask him out. It’s all so absurd that a part of him thinks he might just be dreaming, but he’s sure he’s fully conscious. 

“Why?” he blurts out, and he would be even more embarrassed if it wasn’t such a genuine question. 

You give him a wry look. “Why what?” 

“Wh— why would you want to get to know me?” Spencer stammers. “There’s more than 2,000 other students here. There’s almost 40 million people in California. I’m no one.”

“You are Doctor Spencer Reid,” you say, looking him right in the eye. “You drink your coffee with an absurd amount of sugar and cream, you always seem to be in a hurry, you’re one of the most beautiful guys I’ve ever seen, and I want to know more about you than passing observations. That’s why.” 

For once, Spencer finds that he’s speechless. He doesn’t think anyone has ever been this blatant, this honest with him, over a matter like this. He— he doesn’t think he’s ever been asked out. Are you asking him out?

“If you think this is totally weird and you want your table back, say the word and I’ll get out of here.” Your eyes move to the free seat across from you, and you tilt your head. “But… if you don’t think it’s totally weird, there’s room for another.” 

Spencer stands there for a second, a thousand things flitting through his mind once again. On one hand, he has a lot of work to do. This is throwing off his entire routine, and even if he just spends ten minutes talking here, he’s going to have to get all his work done, and he’ll probably end up running to his office hours to make it there in time. Part of the reason that he plans things out so meticulously is so he can avoid sprints across campus that he’s most certainly not built for. 

On the other hand, he’s known you for two minutes and he’s already enraptured. He wants nothing more than to ignore that voice in his head and sit down across from you, absorb every bit of attention you’re willing to give and every word you say, and get to know this strange table thief. 

It takes another moment, but Spencer slings his bag off and takes the seat across from you. He sets his bag on the ground and his oversugared coffee on the table, and he notices the way a weight seems to leave your shoulders. 

You were nervous. Nervous to talk to him. The thought is almost laughable, that someone feels the way about him that he usually feels in every social interaction. 

“It is a little weird,” Spencer says, and he finds a small smile tugging at his lips that he can’t fully control. “But that’s kind of my specialty.” 

Your smile grows, and Spencer thinks you’re one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen. He has no idea how he got lucky enough for you to intercept him like this, but he’s grateful for it. 

“Good to hear,” you nod, and you let out a soft chuckle. “Sorry for stealing your table, by the way. It was the only thing I could think of to get your attention.” 

He shakes his head as he blinks a few times. “I don’t blame you. It’s a good table.” 

“It’s not really the table,” you say wryly. “It’s you. You’re very intriguing.” 

“Well,” Spencer says, clearing his throat as he tries his hardest to calm his nerves, “I guess it’s not really my table anymore. It can be our table, going forward.” 

Your eyebrows rise, and your smile is as bright as your eyes. “I like the sound of that, Doctor Reid.” 

His face burns as he tries to act casual, and he hopes you can’t tell how much he likes the sound of that. 

You start talking, asking him questions about himself and what he does and how in the world he has two PhDs already when you’re the same age, and he finds himself attached to every word—it’s an active effort to not get lost in those bright eyes of yours. 

(Spencer never does make it to those office hours.)

[alottiegoingon]

the last night

shauna shipman x fem!reader

summary: shauna comes back after 19 months in the wilderness

warnings: shauna and r had a situationship, very suggestive content but nothing explicit, wilderness time, mentions of mental illness (depression, anxiety), r cheating on her actual gf, manipulative shauna (?), angst but happy ending, not proofread

"i can't believe you're leaving me," you complain in a purposely whiny tone, your voice ringing in shauna's ears as you sit across from each other on the bed. she grips her familiar journal while you help her go through her checklist of essential items.

"i'm not leaving you. It's only a week," she murmurs, her head bowed over her journal, but her eyes lift to catch yours. a playful smile dances on her lips, secretly entertained by your antics.

shauna played as the midfielder for the yellowjackets, a girls' soccer team. their recent victory had secured them a spot in the nationals in seattle, and it was all she could talk about.

you were genuinely excited for her, but the thought of spending so much time apart made you anxious. it wasn’t a full week, technically, but you couldn’t help worrying about shauna meeting someone much cooler in a much cooler place.

"remember the last time?" shauna reminisces about her trip to denver five years ago, also for soccer. you were just middle schoolers then, and you were forced to make new friends while she was gone for days. "you found new friends," her voice crackled slightly.

"so we are friends now?" you say, your voice constricting. shauna doesn't look up but you hear her snort, contrasting with her muscles tensing up. the silence settles in and you don't wait any longer to fill it, not wanting to make things any weirder than they already were.

"anyway. it's just not the same now," shauna understood your words perfectly well, especially considering the kind of friendship you had. still, she questioned.

"why's that?" she inquires, her hands absently rubbing the pen against her journal as she finishes her list.

"you know why," three words of yours were responsible for the abrupt stop of her writing. shauna places the journal and pen aside, focusing on you.

"because no one is as cool as me?" she quips, a self-satisfied grin spreading across her lips.

"that's debatable," you retort, feigning skepticism as you mock her with a playful expression.

"you hurt my feelings like that," her false frown deepens as she leans in.

her hands move surreptitiously toward your legs, eventually landing in a gentle and not so innocent touch on your knees. inch by inch, she traces your skin with her fingertips until her full hands were on your thigs and crawling up to your waist.

"i'm so sorry," you try to keep yourself unbothered by her touch but she's smarter. her nose strokes your cheek, stopping to give your upper lip a messy kiss, and she kisses her way town to your neck.

brushing your hair out of the way along with the heart necklace, her teeth gently grazes on your skin.

"nuh-uh. this won't do," her hot breath into your skin makes you shiver. "i have a better idea."

𖠋

everyone remembers where they are when an upsetting event happens. the death of a celebrity, a natural disaster, a medical trauma. you remember, clear as water, where you were when you read the newspaper. walking back home.

it was all over the news. flight 2525, the private plane that lottie matthews' dad had chartered, had disappeared. the plane shauna was in. making everything worse, the news would often use the word 'crash' instead and you couldn't bare the idea.

soon enough, it hit you that the night before her trip was the last time you would ever see her again. the only thing more unbearable than that was the uncertainty; not knowing if shauna was still out there.

after a month of silence, you thought you had your answer.

people don't move on from things like that, not completely. especially if their best friend was envolved. spending your days in bed, skipping meals and not going to class became part of your new routine. you lost track of whether it was day or night, whether the sun was shining or not. your mind was consumed by her.

moving on or not, life goes on and the world doesn't slow down for anyone. after six months, normalcy had returned for most. apart from the parents and a handful of students, the yellowjackets had faded from people's memories, just like their plane. this pissed you off. you barely had time to grieve as the rest of the world rushed forward.

forcing yourself to merely exist, not truly live, you returned to class. like a ghost, you attracted curious glances and avoided them like the plague. after graduation, college was the next step.

a year later, shauna’s parents asked if you wanted anything from her room. something special, or perhaps just to visit. you were certain it wasn’t a good idea, but you went anyway. under her pillow, you found an envelope from brown university—the same school you were attending, the place you and shauna had planned to go together.

that was all it took to break you down into a sobbing mess on her bed.

𖠋

things got better. not perfect, not the way they used to be, but better. you weren't alone anymore but always had to push away the idea of losing all of your friends at once, one in special. luckily or not, college kept you busy.

"have you finished tomorrow's essay? It's so boring I might just drop the class," your girlfriend says, dropping a pile of old books on the cafeteria table and sitting across from you.

"i have dark circles under my eyes, what do you think?" you groan, lifting your head. she leans over the table to kiss your forehead.

"i think you still look pretty, baby."

"thanks, but I'm not letting you copy my work."

"worth the shot," she chuckles, placing two cups of coffee on the table, sliding one towards you.

your plan was to finish that damn essay and be completely free. the cafeteria was buzzing with students, but at least they were minding their own business. that's what you get for studying in a campus cafeteria.

"did you hear what happened to them? i'm so glad they're alive. It must have been so tough," her sudden comment startles you, taking a moment to register.

you swallow a lump in your throat as you glance over your shoulder at the TV, where crowds of people are watching the news: 'yellowjackets rescued'.

"holy shit," you whisper, the shock setting in as you realize you hadn't revealed not only your awareness of their situation but also your complex connection with one of them.

𖠋

a week after shauna got back, her parents had called you your stomach was turning upside down and your anxiety levels were through the roof. you couldn't manage to put your feelings into words.

you knocked on her bedroom door, too anxious to wait, just to announce yourself. for the first time in almost two years, shauna stood before you. she bore a few scars, nothing too severe; her hair had grown longer, losing its waves; her eyes seemed somehow larger, fixed on you as if she had just saw something extraodrinary.

she leapt from the bed, a cautious gaze scanning you, before rushing toward you and embracing you tightly.

her arms wrapped around your shoulders, her fingers digging into your clothes so intensely it almost hurt. you reciprocated, holding her waist tightly to keep her close, unsure when the tears started flowing, but you feeling your shoulders becoming wet.

"hi," she whisper between tears, her voice crackling.

"hi," you echo her. "i thought i would never see you again."

"i know," she sniffs, clinging to you. the last thing she murmurs for the long time you two spent hugging.

shauna was back, but she was much quieter, easily irritated, and frightened by everything. she had every right to feel that way, but you were worried. no one was allowed inches close to her journal and you respected that, encouraging her to write about her feelings.

your finals didn't matter anymore; nothing else did. for the next few weeks, you were constantly by her side. even waiting outside the bathroom door like a loyal dog.

however, you weren't the same as before. you weren't as touchy or intimate, especially after shauna discovered you were dating someone else. she became distant and strange, pushing you away and ignoring your calls.

"hey, I bought you a new book. It's from that author you used to like before..." you stop yourself mid-sentence. "you know."

forcing a smile, you place the book on her desk. her vacant eyes meet yours, but she remains still, lying in bed staring at the ceiling.

"is everything okay?" you ask hesitantly, walking towards her and offering your hand.

the silence lingers but she accepts your hand and joins you.

"shauna?" you say. as soon as she's on her feet, she drops your hand quickly.

"everything is fine," she says sharply.

"right... it's just that you've been acting weird lately," you explain, trying not to upset her.

"in case you didn't know, I was trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for almost two years," she snaps, her body stiffening.

"yes, i know," you say, inhaling deeply. "but I—"

"don't you have to go back to your girlfriend anyway?" she interrupts, glancing at the door and then back at you. she clearly wanted you out.

"no, I don't," you reply, frowning. "is she why you're acting like an idiot?"

she snorts, taking a step forward, her eyes narrowing.

"It's funny how I'm the idiot when you've replaced me with someone else so quickly," you would feel bad thanks to the pain in her voice if it weren't for her absurd words.

"replace you?" you scoff. "she's my girlfriend, shauna."

"and what was I?"

"you were my friend! we were friends."

her face shuts down completely, lips parting as if ready to shout something, but she stops herself. you weren't sure if you agreed with your own words, but it’s too late now.

"i thought you were dead," you say, taking a deep breath to keep your voice steady. shauna, however, seems perfectly fine with letting her voice rise.

"you sure did," she says, shaking her head slightly.

"well, you left me."

"not because I wanted to, you fucking idiot!" she snarls, suddenly pressing her forearm against your collarbones and pushing you backwards. you gasp in surprise as your back hits the cold wall.

"shauna! what are you doing?" you try to push her away, but she’s stronger than you remember and hold you in place.

"do you ever think of me when you kiss her?" she whispers, ignoring your question. her breath is ragged, her chest heaving. she tilts her head slightly, studying your face. then she leans closer, her lips just brushing against yours.

you can hardly make sense of her words, stunned by her sudden change in behavior. your mouth hangs open, but no sound comes out.

"answer me," she growls, pressing her arm harder against you. her jaw clenches, making you yelp, and you immediately whisper a faint 'yes.'

she smirks, crashing her lips into yours. though you hesitated for a moment, you quickly recovered, syncing your movements with her rough rhythm. when you try to pull her closer by the hips, she lets go of your chest, grasping your wrists and pinning them along with you.

the urgent kiss didn't last much longer as she trailed her way down to your jawline with small bites and feral kisses, eventually reaching your neck. in her preferred area, you cry out her name when she sinks her teeth into your skin, drawing blood.

when did she got so into biting?

[rnelodyy]

The Owl House And Restorative Justice

At the end of Season 1 of The Owl House, it is revealed that Lilith, the main overarching antagonist of that season, was the one to curse her sister Eda, one of the protagonists, to win a tournament when they were teenagers. This information causes Eda to fly into a screaming rage and attack Lilith, and understandably so.

Eda’s curse is essentially a chronic illness, one that, in Eda’s own words, has ruined her life, being the reason she’s considered a social outcast and why, before meeting King and Luz, she hadn’t gotten close to anyone in years. In season 2, it’s revealed that the curse is why she pushed away her partner Raine to the point that they broke it off with her, and that during a particularly bad flareup, she accidentally maimed her own father, leaving him half blind and with permanent nerve damage to his hands, making him unable to continue working as a Palisman carver. The curse has ruled Eda’s life for decades now, so to Eda, this is the ultimate betrayal.

In the first episode of Season 2, Lilith has defected from the Emperor’s Coven, split the curse between Eda and herself to mitigate the symptoms for her sister, and has moved in with Eda at the Owl House. While Lilith herself still feels guilty and feels she has to make it up to Eda, everyone else, Eda included, has seemingly either forgiven her or chosen to look past it. Eda even makes fun of her for feeling bad about cursing her, and Lilith’s guilt is seemingly absent for the rest of the series. 

The response to this was… Less than stellar, shall we say. A lot of people were angry, saying Lilith got away with her crimes without even a slap on the wrist, and that Eda’s forgiveness of her was far too sudden.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this kind of critique. Amity spent years bullying Willow after her parents forced her to break off their friendship, and when she began trying to mend that relationship, the response from fans was that Willow should have been a lot more angry at Amity, and that they went back to being besties far too soon. I’ve even seen this criticism leveled at Hunter for the things he did while working for Belos, at Vee for impersonating Luz for months to trick her mother, and at Luz for hiding the fact that she helped Philip find the Collector from her friends. And it does seem strange for the show to keep tripping on this same point again and again.

Except, it’s not really. Because I think that, when viewing this show from a different angle, those supposed flaws are actually symptoms of something very important to understand – The Owl House operates on a system of crime and punishment that is very different from our world’s.

More specifically, our world mostly utilizes retributive justice. The world of The Owl House utilizes restorative justice.

So first, what do those terms mean? Broadly, they’re two different forms of handling interpersonal disputes, or dealing with crime. 

Retributive justice is the one our current justice system uses, where the focus is primarily on punishing the perpetrator. Retributive justice can mean detention, suspension, expulsion, jail time, monetary fines, some kinds of community service, exile, or in more severe cases, corporal punishment or the death penalty. It’s the lens most people view the world through, where if someone hurts you, hurting them back is the correct response.

Restorative justice is a very different approach, where you instead focus on helping the victim recover from what happened, and rehabilitating the perpetrator to prevent this from happening again. Restorative justice can look like verbal or written apologies, monetary compensation for costs and trauma, therapy for both victim and perpetrator, education for the perpetrator, mediation between victim and perpetrator, a restraining order, etc. 

When viewed through a retributive lens, The Owl House lets its characters get away with a lot of shit. Lilith cursing Eda, Hunter rounding up Palismen knowing they’ll be killed, Amity tormenting Willow for years, it’s all stuff that, in a retributive environment, they should be punished for, and they’re just not. Eda is only genuinely angry at Lilith for two scenes, Amity and Willow fix their relationship very quickly once Amity starts making amends, and Hunter isn’t punished at all. 

However, I believe the story of The Owl House is best viewed not through a retributive lens, but through a restorative lens.

Let’s look at the Lilith-example again. Lilith’s offense was cursing Eda, which she did because she wanted to win a spot in the Emperor’s Coven. Knowing Eda was better than her, she cast a curse on her, thinking it would only last for a day. But when the time came, Eda forfeited the match, soon after which she transformed into the Owl Beast and was pelted with rocks until she ran. The curse turned out to be very permanent, and Lilith spent the next 20 years trying to fix her mistake by working for Belos to try to capture Eda, since he promised to heal her curse. 

However, when she finally succeeded, Belos went back on his promise. Instead of healing Eda, he ordered her to be publicly executed. When Lilith protested, Belos essentially told her to shut up, that it was the Titan’s will, and left her there. 

So, having realized her method of fixing her mistake has gone real bad, Lilith sneaks down to the Conformatorium to free Eda herself, but arrives too late and finds Luz instead. After a brief fight they end up teaming up, and Lilith leads Luz to the elevator, but they are captured by Belos and Lilith is thrown into the cage with Eda. There, she restores Eda’s partially petrified body, and after fleeing with her, Luz and King, uses a spell to split Eda’s curse evenly between their two bodies.

From a restorative justice point of view, Lilith has done pretty much everything she reasonably could do to fix things. She’s denounced the Emperor’s Coven, returned Owlbert to Luz, helped Luz find the elevator to the execution platform, saved Eda from petrification, apologized to Eda, and while there’s no way for her to cure Eda’s curse entirely, she took on half of the curse at great expense to her own health, in order to ease Eda’s symptoms. 

Eda isn’t angry anymore because in her eyes, Lilith has already fixed things with her. Punishing her more at this point is pointless. What more could Lilith do, really? What other lessons could she learn? The only thing that punishment would bring at this point would be more suffering. 

Let’s look at another example: Amity and Willow.

Amity’s offense was breaking off her friendship with Willow because she was a late-bloomer, bullying her for years, and allowing her friends to do so too. Willow is left with horrible self-esteem issues because of this, and combined with her failing grades, turned her into a horribly shy and withdrawn wallflower (no pun intended). After she’s moved to the plant track she starts actually getting better, but Amity and Boscha especially continue to torment her. While Amity’s bullying of Willow does peter out over time, Willow is clearly still extremely resentful of her. In an attempt to make Willow forget their friendship, Amity accidentally sets most of Willow’s memories on fire, leaving her confused, amnesiac, and unable to grasp basic concepts like that chairs are for sitting in.

Luz pushed Amity into fixing Willow’s brain by going into her mind together and piecing her memories back together. There, the Inner Willow revealed what happened to Luz and the audience.

At this point, Amity shows her that her parents were actually the ones who forced her to end the friendship because they didn’t think Willow was a suitably powerful or influential friend, threatening to make sure Willow would never get accepted into Hexside if Amity didn’t force her to leave. Amity then apologizes to Willow for going along with it, and for the bullying, and vows to make sure her friends never mess with Willow again. 

Willow accepts her apology, but also makes it clear that, while it’s a start, she’s not yet ready to accept Amity in her life again. Restorative justice has not been fully attained, because to Willow, Amity hasn’t fixed everything – Boscha and her squad are still bullying her, and still consider Amity one of them. This changes two episodes later, when Amity tells Boscha to grow the fuck up when she starts bullying Willow again, and joins her and Luz’s Grudgby team despite her personal issues to get Boscha to back off. Willow doesn’t make a grand gesture of forgiveness in this episode, but it is after this point where the two become comfortable around eachother again. 

Did Willow forgive Amity too quickly for years of trauma? Maybe. If she had chosen to continue keeping Amity at a distance I certainly wouldn’t have blamed her. But in the end, Amity fixed the mess she caused as best she could, and has proven herself to want to be a better person, to want to be Willow’s friend again. She worked hard to prove herself to be a person worth trusting, and Willow decided to give that trust a chance again.

And while they did become friends again, that friendship was clearly still affected by what happened, which led to bumps that the two of them had to work through. Like in Labyrinth Runners, where Amity’s overprotectiveness over Willow makes Willow feel like Amity thinks she’s incompetent, and still only sees her as the helpless person she used to be. 

Willow continuing to be mad at Amity and punishing her for what she did wouldn’t be an unreasonable reaction, but it wouldn’t have fixed anything. It would certainly have an impact on Amity, seeing her former best friend rejecting her attempts to make up for what she did, but the hurt on both sides would have continued festering, because deep down, Willow missed Amity too. 

In Hunter’s case, there’s the question of whether he can even be held responsible for his actions. The Palisman-kidnapping in specific was explicitly done under duress – if he failed he would face verbal and physical abuse, and be threatened with his nightmare scenario: getting thrown out of the Emperor’s Coven. 

And that’s not an empty threat either. Hunter has no magic, and Belos has drilled it into him that witches without magic have no future. Without the Emperor’s Coven, his only future prospects would be starving to death on the streets or wasting away in prison. Either way, Hunter would be alone, without family or friends, without a job or job prospects, without anyone to turn to for help. Any child would be terrified of that. Hunter wasn’t always acting on direct orders – in fact he defied direct orders to stay in his room in Eclipse Lake to go look for Titan’s Blood, and then again in Hollow Mind to arrest the rebels. But he made those choices based on the idea that Belos wouldn’t want him if he was a failure, and that he needed a chance to prove that he could still be useful.

And contrary to popular belief, Hunter does know right from wrong. He has a very strong moral compass, he’s just been forced to ignore it in favor of doing whatever the Emperor wants. To shut up that little voice telling him he’s doing the wrong thing, he uses what’s called a thought-terminating cliche, a statement that feels so fundamentally true that the argument need not continue. In Hunter’s case, that statement is “It’s for the greater good.” Sure, kidnapping his new friends and abducting Palismen to feed to the Emperor and threatening someone who’s been nothing but kind to him to take the portal key from her girlfriend and justifying terrorism makes his stomach feel like he swallowed a cactus and saying it out loud makes him sound like a horrible person – but it’s for the greater good. He’s doing it to serve Belos, and Belos knows what’s best. 

So by the time Hunter is out of active danger and able to rest and recover from what happened to him… what would further punishment accomplish? He already knows that he did fucked up shit while working for the EC, and he’s proven time and time again that while he’s not fighting for Belos’s approval, he’s actually a genuinely kind-hearted kid. Punishing him now would likely cause him to react very poorly, because he’s been at the wrong end of that stick so often that he’s developed severe PTSD because of it.

And if you think restorative justice is still in order – Hunter is currently hyperfixated on making sure Belos can never hurt anyone again, and for the long term, he has expressed that he wants to become a Palisman carver when he grows up. While it won’t bring back the Palismen that were killed, it will help the current Palisman population recover and reintroduce Palismen to witches who may have had to give up theirs. 

When viewed through this lens, the writing of The Owl House starts to make more sense. As a show, it is extremely forgiving towards its characters – they’re still held accountable for their actions, but as long as they’re willing to grow and learn and fix the damage they caused, they are very quickly forgiven. 

However, I do understand why these writing choices can be… controversial, so to say. Because it doesn’t feel very satisfying, does it? When someone hurts you on purpose, your first impulse would be to try to hurt them back, that’s just how people work. 

That’s the hardest thing to come to terms with when you become an advocate for prison abolition for example – you’re not just arguing for freeing a guy who got 5 years because a cop found weed in his pockets, you’re arguing for the release, and most importantly, the humanity of some of the most vile, disgusting people this planet has ever produced. Even now, when someone commits a truly awful crime and gets sent to prison for life, my first thought is “Good, I hope they rot in there.” But that’s not justice. That’s just revenge. And revenge is not something we as a society should want to build our justice system on.

It’s not satisfying to see Lilith go from using Luz as a human shield in her fight against Eda to sleeping on the couch in Eda’s house within 2 episodes. It’s not satisfying to see Willow let Amity back into her life when Amity has hurt her so badly before, or to see Hunter become romantically involved with Willow after he literally abducted her the first time they met. But that satisfaction isn’t really the point. Revenge is satisfying in the moment, but an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, and if someone shows a genuine willingness to change, it’s often better to give them a chance to.

However, my final point is about what happens when this approach fails. Because not everyone is willing to change. Some people, when faced with the consequences of their actions, decide to dig their heels in and refuse to admit fault, or blame the victim(s), or use those same thought-terminating cliches that Hunter used to justify their actions, “I was just following orders” being a big one.

And thus, we come to Belos.

If Belos showed a willingness to change, a genuine one, not an attempt at manipulation, should he be given the chance to? That vengeful part of me is VERY empathetically saying no. But logically, reasonably, he should be given that chance, if only because he’s a human being and no human being deserves to be mistreated. That doesn’t mean his victims are obligated to forgive him or be around him again, in fact I think that, for the sake of Hunter’s mental health, Belos should stay as far away from him as humanly possible. But he should be given the chance to start over, to truly better himself and do something good with the rest of his life.

But Belos isn’t willing to change. 

Belos is a product of a bad environment and grew up with a cult-like mentality and hatred for witches that he had to adopt for his own safety. It’s hard to break out of that mentality, but not impossible. Case in point: Caleb. The tragedy of Belos’s character to me is that he had so many chances to change, so many people to help him make that leap, but all of the people who offered him that help ended up dead by his hands because he couldn’t handle the idea that he may have been wrong.

At this point, Belos is stuck. Changing would mean not only giving up on his life’s work, but acknowledging to himself that everything he’s done, mutilating his body, killing his brother, slaughtering thousands and installing himself as God-Emperor of a population he despises more than anything in order to facilitate a genocide, was completely pointless.

He can’t admit that to himself. Especially the thing about Caleb’s death. He’s sunk-cost-fallacied himself so far into a corner that all he can really do when faced with opposing viewpoints is dig his heels in even deeper and lash out in a rage at anyone who challenges him. Even now, when his body is literally falling apart at the seams, he’s still trying to commit witch-genocide, because it’s all he has. 

Restorative justice doesn’t work in this case, because the perpetrator needs to be receptive to it. Logically you would assume the show would default to retributive justice, and characters like Willow and Camila do take a very vengeful glee in imagining themselves beating the snot out of Belos. But right now, the primary motivation of the Hexsquad and Hunter in particular when it comes to Belos is to end the threat he poses. As long as Belos is alive and free, he will continue to hurt and kill people, and if he can’t be talked down, he needs to be either contained or killed to prevent him from causing more harm.

The Owl House provides, in my opinion, a very nuanced take on restorative justice. It shows how it works in action, how different situations impact what it looks like, and what happens when it’s simply not an option. It’s not the most satisfying story to tell your audience, because when someone hurts our babies we want them to suffer, no matter how sorry they say they are. But in this case, I think that sacrificing that bit of audience comfort is worth it to tell the story like this.

[achrams]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟?

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your buddy Ethan had some other plans for you on your bus trip. A perfect chance to exchange gifts.

𝐂𝐰: Literally just a handjob in a bus.

It was 6.30 in the morning when the usual alarm, that had been put to rest for a while now, made its final wake up call. With a groan you dragged your hands across your face before ultimately lying on your bed. Sprawled out like a star just staring at the ceiling for a good while before actually deciding it's time to get up. ‘One last trip with these losers..’

This trip was an ‘end of the year’ sort of event, compiled by your homeroom teacher as a surprise for the class. You all had passed your finals and now were walking on the path to adulthood or university if that’s what you fancied. A nice trip with the people you’ve known longest, as a goodbye of sorts seemed nice. That was exactly what you intended to do, have fun.

---

Waiting for the teachers and classmates ended up taking longer than anticipated, so your gaze that for some odd reason was hyper focused on the abnormally tall blade of grass whipping in the wind brought some comfort in the chilly morning. Though the appreciation of a nice morning was cut short when you were practically jumped by someone. Hands wrapping around your neck as a familiar voice could be heard next to your head. ‘Of course it’s Ethan.’ Your best friend from practically first grade, though neither really know when or how the friendship started.

“Agh- you could have chosen any other way to greet me.” Taking a hold of Ethan's hand so he wouldn't choke you completely, holding on to give yourself some air.

“What's the fun in that? Plus you looked completely out of it man, I doubt you would have noticed me had I been ‘normal’.” The response earned a sigh from you. Of course he'd try to be all over the top. It surprised you how he had the energy.

“It's 7 in the morning. Get your melatonin levels fixed.” Ethan finally let go of you and opted for standing next to you for the time being, looking around the place. 

“So..no one’s here yet? He swayed on his feet and tried to keep his hands warm as he pushed them into his pockets. Obviously planning something in that unpredictable mind of his.

With a huff that was visible in the air, given the chilly temperature, you shook your head. “Nah, few of the girls are here. Just went in for a moment. Called it a ‘bathroom mission’ of sorts.” As soon as those words left your lips the group of girls walked back out. Then.. the teachers and rest of the classmates. Now all that was left to do was to wait for the bus that was supposed to take all of you to your destination. Some casual talk between Ethan, some of your other friends and occasionally the teacher seemed to make time go by faster. Lucky.

With the bus finally here, everyone would think the very back was the absolutely perfect spot to hang out. Maybe even cause some mischief by blasting music, playing games and such. That’s what you thought too, very much trying to save yourself a spot there, until Ethan practically dragged you elsewhere. Grabbing you by your upper arm as Ethan’s legs beelined elsewhere, away from the usual friend group. A spot in the middle, right before the middle door. Pushing you in the window seat before sitting down next to you.

With a confused look you questioned Ethan, you would have never thought the self proclaimed ‘party monster’ would claim a seat somewhere the action would likely not take place. “The rest of our friends are back there.” You nudged your head to the side to really ‘ask’ why you were sitting here.

“I know.” He seemed to be completely aware and content with that. ‘Okay that’s odd.’ You sighed out at the reply and then used a different approach.

“You ill or something?” Ethan chuckled and shook his head and instead of getting up as you would have expected he got more comfortable in his seat.

“Just wanted some quiet this time. Save the energy for when we’re there. You know?” Now that sounded a lot more like the Ethan you knew even if it was a bit questionable as it was Ethan you were talking about.. Letting it go this time with a sigh as you too  got yourself comfy in your seat. It was a long bus ride after all. Better save the energy.

---

You had descended into your own world again, very comfy and with headphones on, just enjoying the moving scenery in the vast green fields. You all were going to the countryside camp. A nice breath of fresh air. Literally. The ride had been going on for about an hour give or take, most people had turned to sleep seeing as it was still rather early. Plus no one was that hyped right now, the fun would happen later  in the cabins.

What seemed to pull you out of your thoughts was Ethan, unsurprisingly enough. The guy had decided to be close to you. Which in most cases was totally normal, had it been a lean against you not a grip on your knee. Ethan just happened to be a very touchy person, always hugging and keeping close to people. It’d be wrong to deny that your classmates had joked about you and Ethan being together. It was a tad annoying but at least that phase had long passed.

Moving your head to look at the suspect in question, pulling one headphone out of your ear to quietly ask: “Ethan?” To which he just innocently smiled at you.

“Hand.” A simple word or rather request on your part. He seemed to understand and move his hand away from your knee. Muttering a small ‘sorry bout that’ and things went back to normal...for 2 seconds that is. Ethan had only shifted in his seat and put his hand on your thigh this time.

Upon the glare he got from you Ethan simply pretended not to see it and ever so slowly moved it higher and higher. The touches are teasing and light, with a clear purpose underneath it all. Which you had caught onto immediately. Now properly removing your headphones, you let them hang over the collar of your sweater.

“Ethan. What the fuck are you doing?” His wrist gripped tightly in your hand, yet gently enough to not be painful.

“What? I’m just resting my hand.” Anyone could see through such a blatant lie and the deadpanned look you gave him confirmed he had to come clean. So, with a new motive he leaned closer to whisper into your ear.

“Consider it a gift. I thought it might be time for a little prize I wanted to give myself.” Yeah no you heard it correctly. ’A prize for himself???’ Ethan wasn’t making any sense so the confused look on your face made him smile more. His other hand moved over to lightly press on your abdomen. 

“Something to make sure you won’t forget me after we both go our own way, yeah?” It would make sense in any other context but not now. You’ll be spending a long while with him. Even after finishing school, so what the hell was he on about??

“Ethan what the actual hell are you on about?” You leaned your head away from him to properly look at him and given his satisfied smile you connected the dots. This wasn’t Ethan saving his energy for later, it was a neatly constructed plan to ‘reward himself’. The more private part of the bus, pulling you away from friends, making sure people around you two were asleep. Yeah, this was no coincidence.

Your attempt to fire back was cut short by the hand now on your hardening bulge. Only a sharp breath entering your lips by the sudden action. “Let me do this, please? I want to make you feel good, been wishing for it..”

Ethan gave you the most pleading look ever, his small pout and puppy dog eyes really poking at your soft spot for him. This was Ethan you were talking about, the same guy who has been with you through thick and thin. Your Ethan. Who would be so cruel not to let him have his so-called ‘prize’? Definitely not you.

“Ugh..fine but if anyone sees this. I expect you to take full blame.” Ethan’s smile doubled and with a quick nod he made sure his body was positioned in a way no one could see. Not like anyone was awake right now anyways. You just had to keep quiet.

“Thank youu..” Ethan whispered and then pressed down on your erection, making sure to palm you through your pants. All with an abnormally pleased smile on his face. You probably haven’t seen him this happy with himself after the time he managed to convince his parents for a pet.

His hand seemed to know exactly when and where to use more force, putting pressure on your dick as he moved his hand along the fabric. All while you were focused on keeping your increasingly heavier breaths under control. Ethan looked so focused it was almost endearing how much he wanted to make you feel good. Makes you wonder what caused all this. Your breath hitched slightly when you heard the familiar sound of a zipper being opened. Your zipper to be exact. The sudden freeing feeling your dick got, earned a small relieved sigh on your part. Though as soon as the feeling came just as fast did the feeling of a warm hand around you make itself known.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think to see Ethan’s hand in your boxers, gripping your hard and needy dick so eagerly. Looking at you to see if he was doing a good job. The thoughts made you twitch in his hand. To which Ethan made sure to squeeze your dick before slowly moving his hand up and down your length. Glad to be the one pleasing you. A small shaky breath leaving your parted lips as you felt your head fall back against the seat.

“You seem to like this.” The words that came out of Ethan felt teasing and purposefully trying to rile you up even more. Though as soon as you wanted to speak back with something along the lines of "I'd like to see you try and keep your composure when getting a handjob.”  the attempt was very quickly shut down by Ethan, given his hand neatly moved to your tip, sliding his thumb along the slit before cupping it into his palm. Seems he knows your snarky remarks pretty well and he knows how to shut you up even better.

“Shhit- careful.”

“I am, aren't I?” Oh that sly bastard, he knew exactly what he was doing. Moving his hand in such a precise and smug way. Pushing all the right buttons. You had to give it to the guy, he was good. Pumping his hand faster, his grasp a bit tighter the closer he got to the tip before moving over it again. 

Your head was now properly leaned back, eyes shut as Ethan jacked you off. It was surprising how no one had woken up or taken notice of highly ‘interesting’ breaths coming from you. A miracle really.

Feeling that familiar knot forming in your abdomen, that sweet sweet warmth that made you involuntarily buck your hips into Ethan’s hand. Breathing through your teeth as you gave Ethan a look. Practically telling, begging  him to speed his hand up, all with your eyes. And that he did. Perfectly squeezing your dick as he picked up the speed making sure to use his wrist, flicking it. All the way up over your tip and then back down, over and over to the point the pre coating his hand made sounds with each pump.

Ethan was smirking as he watched how your chest was beginning to heave, desperately looking for that good relief. Under his breath Ethan whispered ‘Come on…’ a few times as he got really rough with his hand.

“Ethan-fuckk…” You practically mewled out in a whisper as your hips bucked up and came right into Ethan’s hand. Eyes shut as you slowly came down from your high, most importantly making sure your breathing was back to normal, trying not to be suspicious. ‘Shit. This felt way too good..’ 

As soon as Ethan dug his hand out, you opened one of your eyes to lazily glance at him. You were met with one of the weirdest sights imaginable, not even sure whether to be turned on or grossed out. With direct eye contact Ethan licked up his hand with a smirk. Leaving his tongue out to show you how your cum covered his mouth, all before swallowing it. At least he was not wasting napkins, right?

“Dude??” 

“My gift.” You just rolled your eyes at Ethan being Ethan and zipped up your pants. No one needed to see any more of this.

“You’re a fucking weirdo.” Ethan laughed and gave a shrug, clearly happy with himself and how things turned out.

At least the rest of the ride was going to be nice and relaxing. You both were extremely lucky no one seemed to catch on to this little exchange. Otherwise you’d be in big trouble. Seems Ethan’s wishes got granted this time…and to think you’d be spending a whole week with him in a cabin. What could go wrong?

[manszen]

lovers in denial

pairing. fem!reader x trafalgar law.

summary. you and law like each other but both of you don't want to admit it.

contains. fluff, crack maybe, depicted during wano arc before luffy's arrival.

word count. 1.3k.

note. woohoo, my first time writing for one piece!

“i mean this in the most friendly way possible, but you are easily the most attractive person i know.”

law trips over an imaginary pebble and immediately scowls at you.

it's a wonder how the conversation went from the current issues at hand as you wait for a certain captain to reach wano, to somehow gauging law as an attractive person — and by your words, the most one at that.

he blames his current rapport with the straw hats for being so strung up all the time. he prides himself as a collected person, but that patience wear thin whenever the straw hat and his crew skip some of the details in his well-thought plan that he's left with nothing but to improvise. and it seems the disease of being caught by ill surprise has spread further in his system that even you start to affect him.

"is it your height?" you ponder, leaving him glowering behind as you continue trekking back to your hideout. "no, that's not it."

he clicks his tongue in annoyance, catching up to fall back to your steps while keeping silent. still, you wonder out loud, determined to find the reason why you end up with such a statement.

"is it your looks?" you put a lone finger under your chin, head snapping his way as you ask yourself.

your eyes catch his golden ones, before trailing them down to his lips, settling at the rough sharpness of his jaw; and he itches to tug down his hat just so he could hide away from your intense scrutiny.

"maybe?" you still sound unsure even after a long time of observing him. "i think you're much more attractive when you smile. but maybe it's because of your smart, mysterious aura?”

before law can open his mouth for a due retort, you continue on, "or maybe it's your tattoos that makes you attractive.”

the last one doesn’t sound like a question. at all. it’s more like an observation — a bold statement, if you will. and the corners of his lips somehow curl up.

you don’t even notice that you stopped walking. your gaze shifting to the tribal heart tattoo peeking on his chest, barely covered by his black yukata; and for a moment, there's an unreadable expression in your face, as if you’re imagining the whole expanse of his chest, lean muscles and all that, within the safe confines of your mind.

it’s more than enough to burn through law's already warming skin.

"hey, you’re staring," he gruffly points out, stepping ahead of you.

your eyes widen before turning all defensive on him.

"like i said,” you huff as you catch the quick stride of his long legs, “i mean that in the most friendly way. there’s not much to see back in the polar tang, you know?”

“and? you think i’m attractive simply because you have no options?”

you almost skip a step, almost falling forwards as you digest at his newfound conclusion, chuckling how it’s been the right answer all along, “that’s it! i always knew you’re a genius, captain!”

he rolls his eyes, albeit smiling at the sound of your twinkling laughter, “and what else have you been mulling over instead of helping me gather intel?”

“boo, you’re such a killjoy, captain,” you pout, kicking some random dirt like a kid. “i take it back. you’re not attractive…”

law raises a delicate brow, glancing at you with an intent to keep the playful vibe between you two. he asks then, surprisingly with mirth in his deep voice, “are you lying upfront to your captain?”

he watches, amused, as you try all your might to keep your teasing smile at bay.

“captain!”

the easygoing trance is broken when the two of you recognize bepo’s call, followed by more greetings from shachi and penguin.

“this isn’t over,” law leans down to whisper in your ear. it’s odd, but he doesn’t want the conversation with you to end just yet. still, a captain is a captain with all the duties and responsibilities.

he leaves your side with a heavy sigh and hears you chuckle at his empty warning. then, ever so softly, you say ‘aye, aye captain’. unbeknownst to him, your words bring out an incandescent smile to his face.

as he reaches the others, he’s immediately grabbed and crowded in something similar to impish teenagers.

“captain, what was that just now?”

“i swear there were flowers blossoming behind your trail!”

“and here i thought wano’s land is not cultivable.”

“cultivable? honestly, it was like watching newly weds.”

“did you run off to get married, captain?”

“are you not a virgin anymore, captain?”

these are the questions that are thrown once you’re out of earshot. one by one, he eyes the three heads in front of him: bepo, shachi, and penguin, before forcefully smacking them with the hilt of his sword.

“captain! what was that for?!” they cry out, immense pain evident on their faces.

law pinches the bridge of his nose. his once light and airy mood dissipating upon the rapid interrogation of the three, his stress returning tenfold, “where the hell did you get that idea?”

he’s simply gathering intel with you. after all, wano is a country closed to outsiders. therefore, no amount of information has been leaked to rest of the world. that and it has been under kaidou’s clutches for so long. so how come these three idiots think he’d run off to marry? while on a mission? what’s more, run off to marry you? and penguin didn’t even hold back with the last question.

even asking his virginity, really?

he feels the urge to smack penguin again, with more force to it this time, and sensing his rising anger, penguin immediately backs away. his hands raising in surrender.

“c-captain, didn’t you say you like her?” he sweats, smile nervous and teary.

“since when did i say that?” one step toward penguin, penguin doing two steps back.

“oh, w-well… shachi told me!” he squeals.

law’s head whipped around to find shachi, who’s now tightly gripping bepo’s orange boiler suit from behind.

“c-captain! haha… bepo! bepo told me!” shachi shrieks and hides from his scornful glare, as bepo yelps upon being harshly put under the spotlight.

“captain…” bepo whimpers. his eyes in near tears, furry paws clasp together as if praying his captain sees the truth behind their tittle-tattles. as law gives his undivided attention to the helpless polar bear, he realizes then that he just made a definite mistake on his part.

“i never said that,” he glowers instead, settling for the only thing he can do: admit his truth and frown upon their claims.

“well, you never denied it either,” shachi bravely comments from behind bepo, deeming it’s the safest place to survive his captain’s fury. “that’s just the same thing!”

while in the far corner of his eye, he perceives penguin breaking into more tears, maybe regretting his decision for not running behind bepo. “shachi, shut your trap,” penguin sniffles.

“but, captain,” bepo starts and law sighs in defeat, “you do like her, right?”

law tries to cool down his expression, preventing even the slightest emotion to slip through that will feed these rascals their delusions. and yet at the back of his mind, he remembers your subtle, not-so-subtle observation of him, your cute ‘aye, aye, captain’ from earlier, and all of a sudden, every fluttering butterfly comes rushing back to him.

as a medical expert, he should know what an irregular, fluffy heart rate means.

this is getting ridiculous, he thinks.

he shakes his head, banishing it all away. too quickly, he feels exhausted. he knows that when bepo, shachi and penguin have something to put their minds on, there’s no escaping it. so he grumbles, lacing a captain’s finality to his words, “just don’t put her in a position where she’ll feel uncomfortable.”

and with that, the three heart pirates swoon as if they themselves are experiencing their captain’s springtime of youth.

stealing, modifying, translating, or reposting this work on other platforms is strictly discouraged.

[echoingalaxies]

cw: hospital/medical stuff mentions, unspecified illness or injury

“You wanna pick up some food on the way?” Caretaker asked, steering her car out of the parking garage and to the intersection.

Whumpee, sitting under a blanket on the passenger seat, watched the hospital disappear as they drove away on the mostly empty highway. He rubbed the pit of his elbow where a small bandage remained to stop the slight bleeding from a cannula.

It had been a long day. New bottles of medicine rattled in the pockets of his jacket when he shifted into a more comfortable position and leaned their head against the headrest. They had sat in the waiting room the whole evening before finally being admitted, and discharged only a couple of hours after. Caretaker hadn’t even tried to argue with the staff anymore. It always ended like this. Not enough beds and not enough people to take care of the ones lying on them.

Whumpee knew he was lucky. He knew he’d be safe going home with Caretaker. But it didn’t mean he didn’t keep dreaming about the day he’d be taken seriously. He’d receive proper care. Otherwise he’d just have to keep going back, over and over again. More pills, more bills, more wasted hours.

“Hello?”

“Oh, uh,” Whumpee blinked, realizing he hadn’t actually given Caretaker a response. “No, I… we should just head home. You’ve got work in the morning, and it’s already way past midnight.”

His stomach let out a loud rumbling sound just then, and Caretaker gave him a quiet look, which Whumpee pretended to not see. He could fix himself a bowl of yogurt at home. Caretaker needed sleep. She deserved it, after putting aside her own responsibilities just to stay with him again.

“What if I told you I already took tomorrow off?”

"What?" Whumpee turned to her, shaking his head. “Caretaker, no. You shouldn’t have.”

Caretaker shrugged. “It’s Friday, we get to have a head start for the weekend. Won’t that be fun?” Her smile faltered slightly and her voice shifted lower, to more serious. “The nurse said someone should keep an eye on you — and I wouldn’t want to leave you, anyway. You still need help.”

Whumpee knew that. He looked down, fidgeting with the hospital wristband. If he’d kept every one of those he’d got even during the past year, he could probably sew them together to make full sleeves for both arms. Money was already tight, as Caretaker worked to support the both of them, and Caretaker missing work because of Whumpee’s various appointments and frequent trips to the ER had had their effect on their income.

“Yes, but…” he said, the familiar tearing feeling of shame finding its place. “I thought we would call Friend or Sibling to stay with me while you’re at work. We have before.”

“Now we don’t have to.” Caretaker glanced at him, frowning. “Do you not… want me to stay?”

“Didn’t they say you can’t keep doing this anymore if you plan to keep your position?” Whumpee asked. “You like your job. I don’t want you to risk losing it because of me.”

“They will understand. I told them it is a family matter.”

Whumpee’s cheeks got hot and he moved his focus away from Caretaker again, watching out of the window instead. They were passing by shops, parks, and pubs, taking many turns in the little streets of their labyrinth of a hometown. Whumpee hadn’t even noticed they had left the main road, but he definitely recognised where Caretaker was heading.

“You didn’t have to lie because of me,” he mumbled, as Caretaker pulled into the parking lot of a local, 24-hour barbeque restaurant they both loved. “About it being a… a family thing.”

Caretaker turned to Whumpee, finally being able to give him her undivided attention as she turned off the engine, smiling softly.

“I didn’t.”

[fandoms-x-reader]

Acts of Service

Requested By: @herdrops

Oneshot

Summary: Belphie does his best to speak your same love language. Belphegor x Shy! Reader Word Count: 2,093

No one in their right mind would say that you and Belphie had a good start to your relationship. 

His heart had been filled with so much hatred towards humans. He didn’t want anything to do with them.

He believed that all humans should die. The same way his sister did.

Nightmares of Lilith’s death plagued Belphie as often as they plagued his twin brother. He didn’t have to choose between the two of them as Beel did, but he felt just as responsible for her death. He felt as though he could have done more to prevent her death.

And one of those things he believed he could have prevented was the love she felt for humans - one in particular.

Belphie was the first among his brothers to take an interest in humans. He had even gone down to the human world to observe them closer. And following in her big brother’s footsteps, Lilith did the same.

But her trips turned from ones that satisfied her curiosity to ones that held an intent to see someone in particular. A man that she had fallen in love with. A relationship that she kept hidden from everyone else.

But, then that man was struck with an incurable illness and Lilith stopped at nothing to save him, even giving him food from the Celestial Realm.

It was strictly forbidden for an angel to alter a human’s lifespan and so she was sentenced to death.

That’s how her brothers found out about her relationship with the human - with the announcement of her execution. And they refused to let it happen.

Their refusal to allow their sister to die is what caused the Celestial War and what caused them all to fall from grace. And she still died in the end.

Belphie blamed himself for not being able to save Lilith. Maybe if he had been a better brother she would have told him about her lover instead of keeping it a secret. Maybe if he hadn’t taken an interest in humans then neither would she have and she would have never been sentenced to death in the first place.

But, Belphie also blamed humans. He believed that they were at the root of all the bad that happened to his family. They were the reason he lost his baby sister.

So, when Diavolo announced that he would be bringing humans to the Devildom, of course Belphie put up a fight. He thought his brothers were crazy for not fighting alongside him.

When Belphie saw you for the first time, he had to admit he was a bit taken aback by how attractive you were. But, he couldn’t let himself think that way. He couldn’t let himself fall for the same trap that Lilith did.

He was only talking to you because he needed your help to escape the attic. You were a means to an end and once he escaped from the makeshift prison he was going to ensure that you met your end.

And he kept that promise that he made to himself.

He knew Lucifer would be angry that he killed you, but he didn’t expect to see his other brothers’ reactions. He didn’t expect them to look so scared and heartbroken. What was wrong with them? Did they not remember?

When Belphie saw that you were somehow still alive, he knew that there was something different about you. And there was no point in trying to attack you again. If it wasn’t for the fact that Diavolo would kill him before he got the chance, it was for the way that his twin brother begged him not to hurt you.

He knew he shouldn’t let himself be convinced to give you a chance. He knew how dangerous humans were. He knew how easily they could be loved. But he still let himself fall.

Nightmares of Lilith’s death shifted to nightmares of your death the more he got to know you.

It didn’t take long for him to realize what a terrible mistake he made. He wanted to make things right with you, to apologize until he was blue in the face.

But what were the right words to say to someone you killed?

Belphie wasn’t afraid that you wouldn’t forgive him. He had seen how kind and understanding you were with his brothers. Despite everything that had happened to you in the Devildom so far, you still wore a smile.

He was more afraid that you would forgive. He wanted you to, but he felt like he wasn’t worthy of it. At least not yet. Not before he had found a way to make it up to you.

But he was running out of time. Your year with them would be ending soon and he didn’t have nearly the same amount of time his brothers had to form a relationship with you.

So, he offered you the only thing he could think of to show you that he had changed - himself. More specifically, a pact with him.

A pact wasn’t something demons willingly handed out without asking for something in return. It gave you the power to control his every move. To manipulate him in any way you wished. It was something that made him more vulnerable to you than he had ever been in his life.

But he hoped that his vulnerability would be proof of how he trusted you. Of how you changed his mind and opened his heart to humans. At least, to one of them. One was a start, right?

He wanted to spend as much time as possible with you before you left. He would make sure to join in with the others as often as he could when they were hanging out with you. And he would also do everything in his power to steal you away.

It was hard for the brothers to complain when Belphie was the one who was taking you away from them because they knew how little time he had with you comparatively. 

But there was only so much you could get to know about a person when you had a deadline. And that deadline came up way quicker than anyone expected.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of everyone saying your heartfelt goodbyes.

Belphie hugged you a few seconds longer than he probably should have, not wanting to let you go.

He didn’t know when he was going to see you next and there was still so much he wanted to say to you. So much he wanted to do with you. 

It wasn’t until you came back to the Devildom that yours and Belphie’s relationship changed for the better.

Belphie knew that you were shy. He had witnessed you blushing at the smallest things or avoiding his gaze when he was trying to talk to you.

Each time you did it, you ended up looking more adorable in Belphie’s eyes.

He knew that your bashfulness sometimes prevented you from speaking what was on your mind.

He wasn’t bothered by it in the slightest. Having Beel as a brother, Belphie learned that sometimes actions spoke louder than words.

And he picked up on every action you did. 

At first, it was small things like making sure his favorite pillow was always clean or making sure the attic stayed at Belphie’s perfect temperature. But then there was the instance with Lucifer.

Belphie had overslept and was late to class. As a punishment, Lucifer gave him a large stack of homework to do as well as a list of chores. They all had to be done before Lucifer got back from his meeting or Belphie would be in big trouble.

Knowing that, the Avatar of Sloth still decided to fall asleep as soon as he got home.

He promised himself that it would be a quick nap. He really didn’t want to have to deal with Lucifer if he didn’t do what was asked of him.

But, when you went to check on Belphie, you saw that he was completely passed out. There was no chance of anyone waking him up in the near future.

And, if you did manage to wake him up, you should fear for your life because he wouldn’t be in a great mood having been awakened from such a peaceful slumber. 

The last thing that you wanted was for Belphie to get in more trouble with Lucifer.

You understood that Belphie had a hard time controlling his sin just like all of the brothers. Lucifer never got in trouble for being prideful so why should Belphie get in trouble for being tired?

You took it upon yourself to help him out. You made sure to fill out the homework that was sitting on the desk - it was surprisingly easy considering it was all assignments you had already done.

And after that, you quickly moved to do the chore list. It wasn’t the best effort you’ve ever put into cleaning; but, you were focused on getting it all done rather than the quality of your work.

Belphie would never put extra work into the chores anyway so if you had, Lucifer would have known right away.

Belphie woke up to the sound of Lucifer closing the door to the House of Lamentation. A sound that was ingrained into each of the brother’s minds as if it was a bad omen.

He immediately panicked and scrambled to his feet. Lucifer was going to kill him.

Sure enough, the eldest opened the door moments later, and walked in with a scowl on his face, ready to unleash hell upon his youngest brother as he moved to examine the homework. Belphie took a step forward, his mind racing with excuses to give.

“Lucifer,” Belphie began to say but the eldest cut him off. “You finished all of your homework?” Lucifer asked, looking at Belphie suspiciously.  Belphie’s eyes fell to the papers in Lucifer’s hands and noticed they were all filled out.

“And I saw that you got all of your chores done,” Lucifer added. Belphie was filled with confusion more than anything. He did? Lucifer was pleasantly surprised but didn’t dare say so.

He left Belphie alone in his room, for once not having anything to lecture him on.

Belphie sat down on his bed, trying to comprehend how everything managed to get done when all of his thoughts landed on you. 

Belphie had never felt such gratitude in his life. And it also sparked something inside of him. A different feeling that he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. He just couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was.

Belphie wanted to show his gratitude but he knew that too big of a gesture would scare you off. So he resorted to showing his affection the same way you did.

They were small acts that the two of you shared.

You would be his personal alarm clock, always making sure he was on time to school so that he didn’t get in trouble with Lucifer again.

You would make sure to bring him his favorite drinks with caffeine in them to keep him energized throughout the day.

And if he really felt like he couldn’t make it, you would help hide the fact that he was sleeping in class.

In return, whenever Belphie was spending time with you, he would do everything he could to show how much he wanted to be there.

If it was one of his brothers he would zone out without a care in the world. But he wanted to listen to what you were saying and pay attention to every word. And he wanted you to know that he felt that way.

If he had an extra burst of energy, he would do your chores for you, a reminder of the time that you saved him.

Your relationship was full of small acts and secret longing glances. You would admire him from afar and if he ever caught you, it would always bring a smile to his face.

When he was awake, he spent his time admiring you as well, and he wouldn’t be afraid if you noticed him, wanting to see the cute blush that you always got when you did catch him.

It wasn’t a grand proclamation of love. It was a hundred unspoken confessions under the guise of simple acts and sneaky looks of yearning.

It was a language that none of the other brothers would understand.

A dialect that was meant only for the two of you. 

[enmi-land]

౨ৎ ROUGH PATCH

──── 𝗂𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖺’𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄.

2024 pairing. poly!ot7엔하 x fem!member oc cw. illness & injury, fan mobbing, claustrophobia, brief mention of suspected violence, not proofread req. mila hiding bruises from the boys. ❨ back to LIBRARY ?! ❩

IT WAS LIKE DEJA VU. Mila had foolishly that maybe she would be able to go one day without the feeling of being suffocated — without feeling like her head was held underwater and her hands were tied behind her back. She hadn’t learned her lesson: to never underestimate the power of her fans.

“Out of the way!” Mila’s manager held an arm around her shoulder, keeping her as close as possible to avoid the hands that reached out to her. And yet, it was fruitless — she could feel them on her clothes, on her hair, any part of her that they could touch. She jolted when one of them landed dangerously low on her back, and she resisted the urge to cry as another managed to grab her arm with a death grip, before her manager was able to pull her away.

There was no room to breathe. The parking lot felt no bigger than an elevator, with people crowding her and her staff in from all sides. A flash of a camera caused her to flinch, and the sounds of people screaming her name overlapped each other and became loud ringing in her ears. The heat of her body was not cooled by the perspiration that slid down the skin of her neck and face, but instead served to suffocate her more as it dampened her clothes. Her limbs felt like lead weighing her down and even breathing became difficult to do.

Mila could feel her eyelids start to drop. Her manager’s arm tightened around her as her legs became weak, threatening to buckle under her weight.

How ironic, she thought. She came to the doctor’s to get better, but it looked like doing so was only going to make her health worse.

“Move out of the way! Get away!”

Mila stumbled as fans pushed into each other, before tripping over each other’s limbs and falling to the asphalt. There was more screaming and flashing cameras, but at least this time Mila was able to see the company van through the mob, just a few feet away. She could make it. She just had to hold on a little bit longer.

But she could feel herself slipping away, black spots covering her vision, her breaths short and shallow. She could vaguely hear the sound of her manager was opening the door, covering her back as she stepped into the vehicle and telling her something. But she couldn’t quite make out the words, his voice muffled like she was underwater and water was filling her ears. It took everything in her just to make the step into the backseat, before she was collapsing onto the leather seat.

The last thing Mila saw before she let her eyes fall shut was the sight of flashing cameras, against the tinted windows, and the screams of her name.

By the time Mila woke up, it was to the sound of muffled voices and the feeling of someone softly caressing her hair.

“What did the doctor say?” came Kiara’s voice.

A sigh that Mila recognised as her manager’s followed his question. “She’s feeling weak from over exertion. She has a Vitamin C deficiency, which is why she’s alway getting tired recently…”

Heeseung exhaled deeply through his nose. “And what about those people who crowded her at the doctor’s building? What happened to them?”

There was a pause. “You know we can’t do anything about them.”

“What sort of bullsh—”

Mila chose that moment to let her eyes flutter open to see Jongseong’s gentle eyes as they regarded her awakened state. “Hi, Angel.”

Mila groaned, unable to form words. Before she could say anything, Jongseong was being nudged aside by Heeseung, who took his place by her bedside, eyes full of worry as his hand gently cradled her face. In another situation. “How are you feeling? Are you hurt anywhere?”

Mila furrowed her eyebrows. Ah, Mila thought. Right. She had been mobbed by a group of fans at her doctor’s appointment, which the public should have even been aware of. She took a second to gather her surroundings: she was in her room and lying in bed, meaning she must have been carried inside. She still felt heavy, but at least the migraine from when she was being surrounded by manic fans had subsided. She could acutely feel pain in her limbs, but she brushed it off as being a side effect of overexerting herself.

She shook her head, smiling gently at the older male. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Heeseung sighed in relief, before bidding his head. “Okay. Then gets me sleep, okay? I’ll be here with Jongseong if you need anything.”

Mila hummed. But she couldn’t muster the strength to reply. It didn’t even take a second after she closed her eyes before she fell into darkness again. But even then, she could still recognise the voices of her boyfriends and her eonnie as they spoke to each other.

“I should have gone with her…”

“You couldn’t have known what was going to happen, Heeseung-ah. Don’t blame yourself.”

Mila wanted to agree, to reassure him and let him know that he wasn’t to blame — that Mila was simply having a bad day. But she couldn’t. She was already fading into deep slumber before she could utter a word.

Mila was alone when she opened her eyes again. But she couldn’t feel upset about it — not when pain shot up her limbs when she tried to sit up, an ache spreading through her body. She winced, clutching her side, only to flinch back when the pressure caused another age of pain to shoot up her body.

“What even?” Mila cursed as she lifted her top, only to spot a large purple bruise blooming across her ribs. Figures. Her Vitamin C deficiency would have made her vulnerable to bruising, and the fan mobbing from earlier was more than enough stimulus to cause injury — what, with all the limbs falling everywhere as she tried to make her way through the crowd, barely conscious.

She pulled up her pyjama sleeve. More bruises. She pulled up the leg of her pants — and of course, there were even more. And when she looked at the spots, she could still feel the phantom touches lingering on her — especially the ones that had gotten too close for comfort. It was like there wasn’t a single part of her body that remained unaffected by the wondering hands of total strangers that were doing everything in their power to get as close as physically possible.

And for what? What could they have possibly gained from it? (She shuddered to think about what would happen if there was someone there with evil intentions.)

Mila sighed. She thought she would have been more frustrated… But she couldn’t even find the strength to do so. All she could do was lie back down on her pillows, staring up at the ceiling as she pondered her situation.

It seemed like nothing was going her way these past few days. She had back to back promotions to attend to, including filming for a variety show and a radio talk show, followed immediately by an opening event, and then another photoshoot for her brand endorsements. She barely managed to make it through the past week, but now the exhaustion she felt from constantly working, day in and day out, caught up to her, and she found herself unable to even lift a spoon without faltering.

It was frustrating. Not being able to do what she usually did, feeling helpless as she watched her boyfriends run around and attempt to assist her with duties that she should have been able to do on her own. But it was even more annoying after today, hearing Heeseung blame himself for something that was never his fault.

She wished that she hadn’t gotten sick in the first place. She wished that she’d have been more resilient. But now she was causing everyone to worry about her, and she didn’t even want to think about what would happen if they found out about the bruises that were littered across her skin.

“Who is it?” Mila squinted her eyes. She woke up in the middle of the night when she felt another figure slip into her bed, before arms wrapped around her. She smiled when she realised who it was. “It’s just me.”

“It’s just me,” Riki whispered. “The hyungs said not to disturb you but I missed you.”

Mila hummed as she reached up and caressed the top of the younger male’s head, doing her best to make sure his arms didn’t come into contact with her bruises. It had been a while since she was able to cuddle, and she admitted that she missed the warmth that the tall boy provided.

“Are you doing okay?”

Mila nodded, biting back a wince when Riki hugged her closer to him. “I’m fine.”

But it wasn’t. Not really. And there was only so long before it became obvious.

“Yah, what’s this?” Mila was jolted out of her thoughts when a hand grabbed her wrist, pulling up the sleeve of her jumper to reveal spots of blue littered across the length of her pale skin. Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes snapping to Mila’s for an explanation. “Where did this come from?”

Mila had been careful not to let anyone see the injuries that she discovered on herself, and she had thought she would at least be able to keep up the act until they faded. But as it happened, it hadn’t even been a day. And really, she should have expected as much — nothing escaped her boyfriend’s notice when it came to her. It only took her flinching slightly when Sunghoon gently squeezed her bicep before his eyes had narrowed in suspicion.

Mila opened her mouth to explain, not wanting him to worry, but instead, she ended up getting cut off by someone else.

“What’s wrong?” Jungwon peered over Sunghoon’s shoulder, before gasping, his eyes widening in shock. They scanned over her skin before landing on Mila’s face. Voice shaking, he asked, “Noona, what are these?”

“I just got them from bumping into people,” Mila said hurriedly, recognising the tone in his voice. “It’s nothing serious.”

“‘Nothing serious?’” Sunghoon repeated incredulously as he joined the others. By now, the others had crowded around Mila to get a look at what was happening, and all had been in shock to see the bruises on Mila’s arm, before it then shifted into worry… and perhaps, maybe even fear.

Heeseung had a stern expression. He lifted her arm slightly, though still careful not to pull too hard or for his fingers to accidentally apply pressure to the purple spots. “This doesn’t seem ‘serious’ to you?” His eyes bore into Mila with a desperation evident in his gaze, serving as a thin veil to his anger. (Not towards her, though — and that was honestly more worrisome.) “Answer me properly: who did this?”

Mila opened her mouth and closed it again. She didn’t sense any anger in his voice or his tone, instead all she could find was panic — and the look made something in her gut drop with guilt. She could briefly see Riki’s conflicted expression from where he stood behind Heeseung, and Sunoo looked as if he had seen a ghost.

She felt hands on her face, bringing her attention back to Jongseong. “Please,” he said, “don’t hide this from us.”

Mila sighed. “I don’t know… There were just too many people there, and I didn’t know who was who…” The boys were silent as the words sunk in. “But it wouldn’t have been this bad if it weren’t for my Vitamin C deficit. It wasn’t that anyone intentionally hurt me or anything… I just happen to bruise easily these days.”

There was a pause. For a second, Mila thought she was going to be scolded, but instead, she was pulled into a firm chest, as a large palm cradled the back of her head. Jaeyun was careful not to hold her too tightly, but still firmly enough that Mila was engulfed in his warmth. “Damn it, don’t scare us like that.”

Heeseung sighed, reaching up to hold a hand against his forehead. Jungwon glanced at him before looking back at Mila. “Next time, please don’t hide this from us,” he said with a frown. “I honestly thought my heart stopped for a second.”

Sunoo furrowed his eyebrows, his worried eyes skimming over Mila’s revealed skin. There weren’t any words to describe how much his heart hurt seeing Mila’s sickened state these past few days, but seeing those bruises had caused his heart to drop in his stomach in fear — a fear he recognised on the day they got the news of the mob who crowded her on her way back from her doctor’s appointment.

He wasn’t the only one, either. They had all reached a similar conclusion: What if someone really got their hands her that day? What if they hurt her? What if — goodness forbid — she had been alone that day and didn’t have anyone by her side? No bodyguards, no manager, no members… Just her against a mob of crazed “fans” who would do anything to be close to her, no matter the lengths they had to take?

For a second, Jongseong really thought he was going to lose all control of his sanity. He couldn’t even imagine Heeseung or Sunghoon’s feelings; just the news alone of the fan mob was enough to make them clench his fists in anger, as if ready to strike — but if something were to actually happen? If things turned out worse than they did?

Jongseong didn’t want to think about it.

“Still, how could it be this bad?” Sunoo asked. “You look like someone…”

It looked like someone had hit her. And that thought alone made him sick to the stomach, and his eyes sting with tear.

“I promise that wasn’t the case. Really. The worse that happened was someone grabbing onto my arm, but manager pulled me away before anything happened.” Mila raised her arms, and he fell into them immediately. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Don’t apologise.” Riki placed a hand on Mila’s head like he was too scared that she might break with the slightest touch. “We just want you to be okay.”

Mila nodded. She looked around at her boyfriends, a sense of heaviness in her chest. It hurt more seeing them this heartbroken, than it did to be bruised, and she really wished they never had to experience sadness in their lives. But it was only natural that these things happened. At the very least, they were together.

“Group hug?” Mila asked, opened her arms to the rest of them. They looked sceptical at first, clearly wondering over the severity of her injuries, but Mila reassured them with a smile. “I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

That seems to ease their worries, because next thing Mila knew, she was being held in the centre of seven boys. She only wished Kiara was with them, to complete the Enhypen group huddle, but the older female was filling in for a schedule that Mila had to miss because of her illness. (She would have to inform the older girl later of what happened, if only to prevent her for panicking if she got the report from anyone else.)

“It won’t happen again,” Heeseung whispered into her ears. “I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?”

Mila smiled. “I know.”

“None of us will,” Sunghoon said. “That’s a promise.”

It was impossible for her to live as an idol, and to be safe. This was the first or last time she would find herself in a situation like this. But somehow, she felt like she could believe them when they said it with so much conviction. And if she could, she would do her best to protect them as well.

“We’ll look after each other,” she said. Just as they always did.

By the time they pulled away from the hug, she was already being ‘treated’, watching with a small smile as their young leader blew on her bruises, placing gentle kisses along them. “So they get better,” Jungwon said with a cute smile, and Mila felt her heart melt.

“Let me, too!” Riki said, before repeating the same actions. His hyungs simply chuckled, watching with fond smiles as their maknaes took turns playing nurse.

Mila couldn’t say that the past few days were good ones. But at times like this, things didn’t seem so bad after all.

✉️ NOTE. just a little mini chapter that came to mind… it was more of practice to get back into writing longer works, bc i’ve only done drabbles so far since recovering my account and i cooks had the training lol 😆 so please do excuse if the quality isn’t as good as usual 🥸

[choccy-milky]

A few months back, I asked if it was okay to write using Clora and Seb. Finished the work - thought I'd lost it on my hard drive and a virus scan located it.

Not sure if it's sad or happy, but the basic premise of it is Clora getting frustrated/upset at Sebastian and Sebastian comforting her, Sebastian getting upset at a predicament Clora's in and Clora comforting him, and them both getting frustrated/upset and having to comfort each other.

If you'd rather I didn't post it, that's fine too, but just wanted to test the waters and double check that you'd be okay with it if I gifted it to you via AO3, or see if you wanted a sneak peak of it before posting it.

OMG im so happy you were able to find it and recover the work you did!!😭🙏 AND YES OF COURSE YOU CAN POST IT AAA I CANT WAIT TO READ IT!! you can DM it to me first if you want, but i also dont mind if you post it straight away on ao3!! IM LOOKING FORWARD TO IT SM AAARGHHHA💖💖💖IT SOUNDS ANGSTY WE LOVE THE HURT/COMFORT I HOPE MY HEART CAN HANDLE IT🥺💖💖TY AGAIN FOR USING CLORA AND SEB AND TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THEM😭

@sunshine-goblin AAA THANK YOU!!! im honoured its your fav fanfic AND ALSO THE LONGEST YOUVE READ BAHAHAA fr, when you say its as long as four books in lotr it rly makes me realize how insane i am😃👍 aw IM GLAD I COULD INSPIRE YOU TO DRAW MORE AND WRITE AS WELL😭 I was curious so i creeped you and everyone go look at their HL blog @sunshines-legacy your MC is so cute and so is your art🥹💖 as for tips on writing a longfic and brainstorming and motivation and stuff, my motivation was my brainrot and unhappiness with the canon story/ending LMAOO, and looking at the story of the game and playing around with what i was unhappy with/what i WISHED could have happened instead, was a lot easier than just coming up with plotlines from scratch. but something i highly recommend is just OUTLINING and making a timeline, one of my fav parts of writing was just putting on some cafe ambience in the background and doing stream of conscious type word documents where id just barf ideas and then worry about making it pretty later....like look at how many versions of the same chapter i have BAHAHA or like different renditions bc i couldnt decide if id wanna keep a scene/what order, so id make a timeline and keep smoothing things out until i was happy with it and whatnot

brainstorming is defs my fav part of the process and the most helpful part to me. just getting a blank document and writing stuff you want to happen without worrying about how it connects to the story, and then a lot of the times as i was doing that id just keep going and it would kinda tie itself together/id come up with a solution as i was writing / once the ideas kept flowing. so basically : TIMELINES AND OUTLINES I VERY MUCH RECOMMEND, but very low pressure and barebones ones. for example, this is what my outlines/brainstorming look like

its honestly just me talking to myself LMAO, and a lot of the time ill interject and be like "OH YEAH AND THEN THIS CAN HAPPEN" as the ideas come while im writing BAHAHA. its a super fun process and honestly nothing feels better than just getting hit with that flash of inspo, and since its all very low effort theres no pressure to actually write well and its just a chill fun time AND GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR OWN PROCESS / WRITING💖💖💖it can be difficult but HOPE U HAVE FUN TOO💖💖

@a-little-lysdexic WAIT REALLY?? LMFAOO OMG THATS CRAZY....SAME BRAIN...🤝🤝...that would trip me up so much if i were you omg BAHHAHA but aside from having similar tastes in names, IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY ART AS WELL, TYY💖💖💖

THANK YOUUU im glad you're liking it!!! and that its taking over your life BAHAHA💖💖 the video you're thinking of was by @silverxstardust for chapter 13 of my fic, and you can watch the video here! (AND TY AGAIN TO SILVERXSTARDUST FOR DOING THIS!)

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

mc who ships the kings with their nobles (its an excuse for leviforas)

Mc that ships the shippers with their kings

Overall, I think none of them would think much of it because all the nobles seem to have a crush on their kings. They would mind if you started losing interest in their king because you percieve them to be in a relationship.

Paimon would, like always, be the chiller one about this whole thing. While he sometimes gets angry at his fellow shippers, he'll never get angry at you unless you do something really really stupid. Shipping him with Satan is just kind of silly in his view. He might humor you a bit, but he'll shortly cut all your hopes when he says that he has no romantic feelings for Satan and never will. Doesn't want to give you too much false hope, he just wishes you'll put your sights on what really matters.

Eligos would be dumpfounded. The whole interaction was like

Eligos: Mc! I'm so glad I've found you! I've prepared a nice bow for you to wear on your stroll with his majesty Mammon.

Mc: I'm sure Mammon likes ribbons a lot. I mean, with how close the two of you are... he sure has a thing for small cute things.

Eligos: Oh, he totally does! That's why I will make you the cutest being in Hell... behind me, of course.

Mc: No, don't worry. I don't want to tempt your man.

Eligos: My... what?

Mc: Come on, it's obvious that you and Mammon have athing for eachother. The way he pets your head for longer than anyone else, the way he always calls you his. I bet you have a full collection on lingerie just for him.

Eligos: I do, but no! No no no! I'm not in love with his majesty Mammon! Never!

Mc: First stage, denile

Eligos: First stage of WHAT?!?!?

Congratulation, you just broke Eligos' brain and made him take an emergency trip to Paradise Lost to get checked for whatever illness you implyied he had.

Foras gasps when he hears that and covers your mouth.

Foras: Mc, do you like breathing?

Mc nods

Foras: Good, then stop saying stuff like that. He always listens

Leviathan: Is this what you two are doing instead of sorting paperwork? The only reasons I allowed you two to stay together was because you're incompetent and Foras keeps getting distrected on his phone. I would strangle you both, but you're into it, you filth.

Foras: I apologise, great, powerful, handsome Leviathan for my wrong doings

Mc: I'm adding degredation to my newest fic

Leviathan: Don't flatter yourself a writer, I would never degrade Foras. He actually has qualities to speak of.

Foras: (I wish he degarded me as well)

Sorry, I've been too Leviathan possitive on my blog lately, I have to spread the hate

Amon would choke on his own spit. On one hand, hot, yes, he does want to get revaged by his king. On the other hand, that would be illegal because you're already with him. Amon is delusional, partly because he's starving, partly because that's just how he is. He would try to talk you out of it out of genuioun fear that he is breaking the law.

Gamigin would be repulsed. Lucifer is his brother, why would you ship him with his sibling? Please stop, he's really uncomfortable by the whole idea.

Mc: You know, I've been thinking about you and Lucifer recently

Gamigin: Really?! What about?

Mc: You'd look lovely together. He's so nice to you, I bet he likes you well enough in bed.

Gamigin.exe stopped working

Marbas: You need to leave!

[neiptune]

something's not quite right with them

c/w: 2.4k wc, the secret history au, implied incest, implied dark themes, gojo and suguru and everyone else are secretive annoying & disgustingly elite students, the dark academia setting just really does it for me idk i want to play around with dark themes more

PART 2

The library is empty enough to give you less excuses not to focus on what’s in front of you, thick books piled on top of each other and messy notes taken on isolated pieces of paper you keep forgetting to arrange in an order that would make sense.

Most of the students have travelled back home for christmas but you’re too behind on your study plan and had decided that staying would’ve made you more productive than joining your parents on a christmas trip to Salzburg. What an idiot.

The only things you’ve been able to focus on during the past hour are the specks of dust lazily dancing in the winter sun filtering through the tall windows, and the group of people sitting two tables away from you. Their presence there is so unusual one might guess it holds the reason of almost every single stare in the room locked to them, hesitation laced with morbid curiosity. But, truth be told, they’d be alluring anyway, anywhere.

There’s something weird and unnerving about how they carry themselves, always so elegant and eerily enticing. It doesn’t help that they’re almost never around, only attend one class and spend their time exclusively with one another.

To state that you never wondered what went down behind closed doors on evenings and Sunday mornings would be a lie. An entire classroom shut down, barricated for just six people and the only professor you’d refused to endear yourself to would pique anyone’s interest.

You don’t like them, therefore you never had any reason to feel lured enough to attempt a conversation like so many have, with fairly disappointing outputs no less. You don’t like the haughtiness embedded in their attentive stares, the smug sense of superiority surrounding each component of the clique like a nebulous haze that bodes ill.

You don’t like how that Utahime girl constantly sits on her sister Shoko’s lap, letting the latter card thin fingers through her hair so languidly one might get the wrongest idea. You don’t like the contrast posed by that bubbly Yu guy, always far too excited to discuss whatever it is they study in their stupidly exclusive, obsolete literae humaniores class. You don’t like Nanami Kento and his insufferable, stoic expression: he looks like he’s carved in stone, the cold and sharp-edged kind.

You definitely don’t like the best friends, Suguru and his sickeningly condescending smiles, Satoru with his infuriatingly cocky smirks and jokes blurted out loud in Latin or Greek to complete strangers passing by their table, only to laugh at their confusion. You can’t quite put your finger on it but those two have some odd dynamic going on, although you’ve never been one to believe the weird rumors suggesting secret relationships, clandestine gatherings at night or straight up incest. People love to make up stories about popular students they can’t approach and the group certainly is weird enough to fuel some unusual fantasies.

Still, that Gojo guy sometimes looks at his friend like he’d want to swallow him whole and you swear you’ve seen Geto tilt his head up with a gentle hold of his chin more than once, speaking in soft murmurs only inches away from his lips.

Whatever they have going on, it’s none of your business. But you do wonder what they learn in that class, if their exams are any different from yours, where the hell they disappear to from time to time, why they all stayed instead of travelling home for the holidays. Don’t they have families? Are the perfect, most elite students of the already disgustingly elite college having trouble keeping up with their study plan too?

Lost in your thoughts, you notice Suguru’s sharp gaze suddenly darting to yours a second too late. You instantly bring your focus back to the notes you have messily scattered across the table but Satoru’s distinctive, petulant chuckle travels all the way to your ears and your hold on the pencil grows a little tighter.

You don’t dare look in their direction again and actually end up getting some work done, taking short breaks every now and then only to reply to your roommate’s texts. Thank god she’s more than a few states away, Hina is never one to shy away from challenges and she also fell victim of an irrepressible (and, quite honestly inexplicable) fascination with the Classics gang, as she likes to call them. She’d meet Geto’s gaze and bluntly ask if she could join their table with one of her charming smiles, not even bothering to mouth the question or get up to discreetly inquire. She wouldn’t care about heads turning and strangers whispering and you can’t shake the feeling that they’d actually end up indulging her. If as a cruel joke or out of genuine interest, you’re not sure.

As you rise from your seat to start collecting all the exam prep materials, a single glance is all you allow yourself. It’s enough. Suguru is elegantly supporting his head on hands clasped underneath his chin, the thought of his feline eyes having been set on you the entire time teasing your spine with a shudder. Satoru follows suit: he’s been clearly chewing the top of his pen and he lets it rest between his pearly teeth as thin lips stretch into a cheshire smile right as your gaze slips away again, the attempt at giving yourself some sort of composure seemingly amusing him.

You clear your throat and unceremoniously shove books and notes into your leather backpack, the pads of your fingers growing increasingly cold as the air in the library suddenly changes. There are less students sitting at the dark, agarwood tables now, the sunset must be a mere half an hour away and for some silly reason, the greenish glow the little electric lamps cast over the chestnut of the shelves and the burgundy of the walls turns unsettling.

It’s nothing, you tell yourself. Then why are your hands shaking while you gather the few remaining tomes you couldn’t fit in your bag?

Let them look if they want to. You’re going to keep your head up and march by their table and the disturbing, fleeting moment will recede to the back of your mind as soon as you’re out of the library, free to focus on a matter of the uppermost importance: what the hell to get for dinner.

Still, the tweed of your skirt feels itchy on your legs and the opaque black tights are sticking uncomfortably to the skin. You hope the way you loosen your tie is casual enough, as opposed to the booming clacking of your chelsea boots along the polished pavement.

You know you’re not imagining the way the table grows silent as you approach it, every nerve deemed alert by gazes still stubbornly, shamelessly fixed on you. And yet, if they think you’re going to attempt some sort of approach, they better brace themselves for a big, fat, disappointing—

“Excuse me?” his voice is as soft as velvet, melodious in a way you never would’ve guessed. It stops you in your tracks and, for some reason, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the same time.

Suguru offers one of his saccharine smiles when you meet his eyes.

“We have a debate going on. Perhaps you could help us settle it”

Utahime is staring at you with an arched brow, not entirely hostile but indifferent enough to make it clear she’s far from being interested in your opinion on whatever matter. Her sister’s arms are loose around her slim frame, one hand comfortably resting on her naked thigh, skirt sitting shockingly high on her legs. Shoko doesn’t smile but shfits slightly forward in her chair when you glance at her, head tilted to the side in quiet anticipation.

“I doubt it” you reply, not adverse either but certainly resolute enough to elicit a chuckle. Yeah, you don’t fucking like that Yu guy.

“Oh, come on” Geto softly reclaims your attention once more “I’d love to hear your opinion on the matter”

“She doesn’t have any valuable opinion on the matter. Let it go, Suguru” Utahime starts to impatiently tap on the book in front of her with a pencil.

He hums, seemingly pensive.

“Is that so?” the fake disappointment in his voice makes a vein on your forehead throb.

You narrow your gaze and shift the weight of the books you’re holding to your left arm. Whatever stupid game or bet this is, perhaps it’s time for someone to teach these assholes the school is far from being their personal playground.

“What debate?”  

Gojo’s smirk isn’t but a teasing curve in your peripheral.

“Some of us believe that Roman literature is too derivative of the Greek one to be deemed original” Suguru doesn’t add a question to his statement, he simply leaves it hanging in the air as he waits for you to bite.

And hell, you do.

“Only because genre-defining works are all in Greek. But should all epics be judged against Homer? Should all history be judged against Herodotus, all comedy against Aristophanes?”

Nanami’s eyes lazily travel to you for the first time but you don’t falter, nor you let Utahime’s scoff distract you from Geto’s magnetic gaze.

“So we shouldn’t compare, say, De Rerum Natura to any of Epicurus’ writings?” the challenge he offers is polite. You simply shrug.

“You could, but would that take away the fact that it remains one of the most original pieces of all ancient literature? Lucretius was the first one to write a didactic epic about philosophy. Latin literature found an innovative way to build depth and exist within an already established tradition, why would you reduce it to being merely derivative?”

He stares back for a moment too long before offering another one of his enigmatic smiles.

“It’s six to one, Hime” Yu grins as he faintly throws an eraser that hits her arm.

“Oh, give me a fucking break” she groans, gaze now fiery confronting yours “Latins were assimilators, borrowers. I’m willing to bet your ignorance goes as far as arguing that everything Virgil has ever written won’t be forever inferior to anything Homer’s ever thought”

You ignore Yu’s low, impressed whistle and take a second to weigh each word she’s spat. Then, you offer a gentle smile.

“Comparing works of literature, particularly when composed in two different languages and centuries apart, is awfully subjective. But sure, I will bite. The Aeneid, the Illiad and the Odyssey are all written in dactylic hexameter but I would argue that, in general, Homeric poetry is just not as cohesive, not as harmonious. The Aeneid is briefer and still, it manages to evoke both Homeric epics beautifully. We can’t hold Virgil accountable for the fact that Homer came first, can we? You’re focused on the wrong comparison anyway, you should’ve asked me to pick between Virgil and Ovid”

Shoko’s giggle is sweet enough to dim Utahime’s deep scowl. She kisses her shoulder and whispers something about knowing when to admit defeat, chocolate eyes never leaving your figure.

“Requiescat in pace” Yu sticks his tongue out and effectively dodges the eraser being thrown back at him, boyish grin making his eyes glimmer with malice.

“Would you like to sit?” literal honey trickles from Suguru’s relaxed tone, a closed hand now resting on his cheek, index finger pressing to the temple. He looks absolutely unfazed by his friends’ antics, much more focused on studying you instead.

“Suguru!” Utahime’s hiss is certainly rewarding, just not enough to convince you to accept what suddenly feels like an offer there is no turning back from.

Right as you’re about to speak, Satoru straightens up in his seat and you can no longer resist the urge to glance in his direction. You’ve heard about his eyes before, the not so quiet gossiping involving the group always surrounding him the most. He truy does look as perfect as they say, disturbingly so actually, so much that he instantly reminds you of Aether, son of Erebus and Nyx, personification of the sky.

The way he smiles makes you take a tentative step back for good measure: whatever element balances the blessing of such ethereal beauty, must be extraordinary in its darkness.

“Cubitum eamus?”

It’s impossible to blink back your surprise, one that has the corners of his lips curl further up. The boyish inflection of his voice doesn’t pair well with the wicked glint in that otherworldly, challenging stare.

Suguru lets out a good natured huff, Nanami’s scoff sounds much more sincere. It gives you the courage not to succumb to the blood rushing to your cheeks, undesired heat making your insides churn with sincere revulsion.

“Malo mori quam foedari” you murmur it as a prayer to keep yourself safe and don’t spare any of them a single other glance as the urge to get out of the room finally becomes unbearable.

Some would find the deviant laughter that follows you all the way outside of the building amusing, perhaps even satisfying. But all it does is leave a rancid taste in your mouth and as you make your way back to your dorm, you can’t help but feel as if you have taken one too many steps toward something you really don’t want to have anything to do with.

Satoru watches your upside down figure walk away, chair leaned back as he throws his head back in laughter.

“Suguru” he smiles, the tip of his tongue running along his upper lip while he still eyes the wooden doors that have swallowed you “she’d be fun to play with”

“You’re repulsive” Kento’s eyes run along the page he’s so focused on reading, disapproving frown by now a habit more than a timely reaction.

“I think we should get to have a little fun” Shoko ignores her sister’s glare as she sweetly mirrors Gojo’s smile, hand warm as the pads of her fingers sneak underneath Utahime’s skirt to soothe her irritation.

“Let me have her first” Satoru feels ignited as he meets his best friend’s gaze, he recognizes the dimmed flame beginning its faint flicker within it “let me ruin her just enough for you”

Suguru knows he’s lying. All Satoru does is take and take until there’s nothing left, he consumes everything he touches way before anyone else has the chance of getting their fair share. He lives for himself and is still arrogant enough to like that Geto can see right through his bluffs, gets a twisted pleasure from pushing his limits more and more to find out when the wire will snap.   

Sure, he’ll let him have it his way yet again. Suguru doesn’t appreciate rush, knows that true corruption takes time and, boy, does he have all the time in the world.

index vocabulorum:

requiescat in pace - rest in peace

cubitum eamus? - will you go to bed with me?

malo mori quam foedari - death rather than dishonor

[deathbxnny]

hello!! platonic scar, jiyan and aalto with a teen!reader who is a fractsidus member and is like sirin?

reader was kidnapped and experimented on from a very young age, which made them hate humanity over time and lead them to joining the fractsidus

As someone who loves Sirin so much as a character, I'm really happy to get this ask from you, Anon!! Thank you so much for it, and I hope you'll like this!!<33

Content: Teen!Reader, vague mentions of child experimentation, angst, hurt/comfort, platonic relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》SCAR

Scar treats you like all the other members at first, as he doesn't see the point in treating you any differently after hearing your backstory. All of them had a tragic background, so what's new? But it was your young age and clear anger that reminded him of himself, that caused him to perhaps reconsider his decision.

When you get assigned to be under his care, he makes sure to train you really well to be as good as you possibly can. He's not good at it and never will claim to be, but he tries to be there for you in his own twisted way. Whilst most would attempt to heal you from your past, he acknowledges it as something that's impossible and therefore just pushes you deeper onto it. It benefits their plans anyway.

With that said, he doesn't treat you cruelly and forms an alliance with you. He'll take care of you and keep you out of trouble, and you'll keep his back free. This eventually leads to you two forming a trusting bond that makes you good team partners. Whilst he has a hard time seeing you as anything else but a companion, deep down, he sees you as family in his own odd way.

》AALTO

Yeah, this man essentially just snatched you up and ran off with you, thinking you were kidnapped and forced to be a member by the Fractsidus instead. And by the time he realised that this was not the case, he and Encore were stuck with what essentially was a child criminal. But hey, the more the merrier, right?

With that said, whether you liked it or not, you're dragged onto a trip with them. You were understandably angry and annoyed at first, often complaining and yelling about how much you hated humans, until you eventually calmed down and noticed that it was alot more peaceful with them. They were silly and unserious, trying their best to be kind and there for you, which over time made them gain your trust.

When Aalto found out about your past, it made him ill. He heard about alot in his life, but the horrors you had to endure at such a young age made him upset. From that day on, he decided to prove that humanity can do better by being good to you himself. He wants you to lead a good and calm life one day... but will you accept leaving the Fractsidus for it? That's up to you to decide.

》JIYAN

Jiyan wasn't hostile or cruel to you when you were captured and brought to him by his troops. Kneeling down to your eye level, the general gave you a look that promised safety and security, despite your clear rejection for it. He initially took you in for questioning, but when it was proven that you didn't actually know much, he decided to take you under his wing instead. Some criticized his decision, but it felt right to him.

Having found out about your past through old records dug up from a mad scientist you briefly mentioned, Jiyan quickly found out about your sickening origins, which reaffirmed his decision. He understood and sympathized with your pain and rage, going as far as telling you so. The world hurt you, and so you wanted to hurt it back. A natural reaction, despite him being against it.

He decides from then on to completely take you away from the battlefield and get you into school instead. He gives you a warm and safe home, practically gifts you anything that he thinks will help you get better. There is a trust between you two that eventually establishes itself once you realize that someone was finally helping you.

[bonefall]

Feel free to ignore you've probably got a lot going on right now, but considering you know a lot about DOTC and Clear sky, I had a question...

We know that he's a terrible, misogynistic, woman beating and war mongering lunatic who was excused of all his actions because his equally misogynistic brother said " But-But he's nice! Deep down! This isn't the real him! "

But! In a world where the Hunters could write such a character, what do you think Clear Sky would look like as an actual sympathetic villain?

Idk if that makes sense, but what I've thought of doing is taking purely cannon Clear Sky and attempting to change him enough that he's still an antagonist, but not too far where only Reddit defends him.

I don't think he works as a sympathetic villain, on any level, ever. I think you're making a huge mistake to even try, and I have never seen an AU where it was done well nor am I interested in entertaining the thought.

Characters. Are. Tools. They exist to tell a story. The story that people tell me, by obsessing over some alternate universe where he was "ACTUALLY sympathetic and had a REAL redemption arc," is that they're not fucking interested in his dozens of victims. Nor do they actually care about the abusive impact he had on the minds and feelings of his family. They're JUST interested in Clear Sky himself.

Just like the Erins. Everything that happens in DOTC revolves around him. Everything. All his wives die so he can be sad about it. His brother defends all of his actions and BEGS you to sympathize with his pain so he can be 'redeemable.' One Eye comes out of nowhere so that there can be an example of "real" evil to contrast Clear Sky so he's less bad in hindsight.

The first three books of DOTC are bad, but the last three are fucking insufferable because SUDDENLY all that Gray Wing apologia pays off, and they take their main villain and throw him out a window. You CAN'T have "redeemable" Clear Sky and the plot of DOTC without dragging in someone else to drive the conflict, to BE the bigger threat to "unite" against. Slash and One Eye have to be conjured up out of thin air so Clear Sky can WHINE about how people only suck his toes instead of deepthroat them after he killed all their friends.

And yet, in spite of this absolute failure of an attempt, we continue to see this bullshit "redemption" be a mistake because Clear Sky is a fantastic villain, with major antagonist roles in nearly EVERY bit of follow-up material for DOTC that came after.

He's the most consistent monster in all of Warriors.

He's a fragile, egotistical, self-absorbed megalomaniac who ALWAYS sees himself as the victim, REFUSING to self-reflect and blaming everything else for all of his terrible choices. He will USE your love of him against you like it's a chain through your nose, step out of line and he will yank you into place with guilt trips, manipulation, public shaming, and violence.

He's a child abuser. He's a tyrant. He abandons the sick and disabled as soon as they're of no use to him, with grand speeches about "illness" and "weakness." He's a murderer who stands above the shredded corpse of his victim and bellows, "I'M NOT GREEDY! I'M JUST STRONG!"

And you'd write a "good" redemption arc for this, why?

Why are people so chronically unable to accept that there are LOTS of people like him, and you can't save your abuser? Why don't you ask yourselves why you're not interested in exploring Thunder, or Petal, or Gray Wing, and how his toxic influence impacts them? Why does the sympathy fall on Clear Sky? What about the DOZENS of victims who are dead by Book 3, and how THEY could have been saved?

Why ruin a perfectly good villain?

What's behind this trend where a billion people say to me, "Yes Clear Sky is a walking cavalcade of fucked up abuse apologia, and an incredibly realistic depiction of an abuser, but how would you change this while keeping it all the same?"

I wouldn't. You can't. It wouldn't be the same story, or it wouldn't be the same character. Never seen it done well, and I have seen it a lot. So I don't entertain this deeply frustrating "Well What If Clear Sky But Nice" impulse.

[lilacxquartz]

Don't Make Me Feel Alive I Chapter 3

Kenjaku (Pseudo-Geto) × Fem!Reader

[This fic contains Shibuya Arc spoilers and is updated every Saturday.]

ABOUT: Diagnosed at an early age with an illness that slowly deteriorated your body; you went from being a promising sorcerer to a retired husk of your once former self until he found you, offering you an opportunity to live instead—not that you had a choice to refuse.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You are taken out on a little field trip that could have ended better, despite not knowing exactly what you did wrong.

TAGS/THEMES: (in the future chapters): »yandere, chronically ill reader, forced dynamic, non-con, dub-con, violence, caretaking, unrequited feelings, sorcerer reader, dead-dove, mixed pov, potential interpretations of dubious sorcery«

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

Side Note: reminder, this is currently pre-shibuya arc, so some characters will still be present in his alliance. also more dubious sorcery up ahead.

3. Outing

Come the next morning, he was already long awake before you woke up. His gaze fixated on the pendant that rested around your neck, finding its low pulsating hum to be quite soothing as it echoed through the otherwise quiet room.

“I adjusted it for you overnight,” he began, patiently waiting for you to fully awake before continuing, “this time it should use less energy for the things you actively do like walking, but the energy cost will remain the same should you choose to use your technique.”

You furrowed your brows in response, seeming a little confused, “So, I can’t use my technique in the end anyway because it uses up too much energy… or?”

“That’s not what I said,” he corrected you with a slight laugh, “we can train it, the better you get at harnessing your technique, the less energy it will drain.”

“But would that really work…?” you asked.

“Think of it like working out a muscle,” he explained, trying to compare it to something you could understand, “it’ll get easier to manage over time.”

He then stared at you for a long moment as he ensured you kept up with his explanation before having a different thought enter his mind.

Thinking of something new, he broke the silence again, changing up his neutral demeanour to something much more energetic, “I want to test your ability to keep up with me.”

“But,” you halted, feeling still so cautious, “what if it’s like last time?”

“Ah, but I don’t think it’ll be,” he replied, his tone filled with optimism, “besides, what good is it if I trial things on you without you testing them?”

“…Fair,” you sighed, choosing to trust him for now as you sat up from the bed, “So… keeping up with you?”

“I have a meeting of sorts today to oversee some plans in the future, I’d like for you to attend this with me and see how the battery is spent during social settings, if at all,” he explained calmly, his tone sounding suddenly a little clinical despite his relaxed demeanour.

You found him difficult to read as his tone often overrode the look he had in his eyes as well as the smile that he constantly wore. Something about this whole thing felt unsafe, but you had no choice but to go along, so you might as well go along with what was thrown at you.

Meanwhile, his intentions weren’t as terrible as he simply just had an idea to see if the battery drain was strictly physical or if mental stress negatively impacted it as well.

You slowly nodded in understanding, “Also… what do I call you exactly?”

“Anything you’d like,” he replied bluntly. He had so many identities at this point that he didn’t care. Regardless of what name you could conjure up for him, he’s likely lived under that identity for at least a little while.

“Okay, but really, what do you prefer?” you persisted, not quite accepting his answer.

A pause followed as his smile returned, finding the insistence amusing.

“You can call me Kenjaku.”

“And that’s your real name?” you asked.

He nodded in confirmation, “But you can call me anything, however, for the meeting,” he paused for just another moment, “Maybe it’s best for you to call me Geto, instead.”

“Wait, so your allies know you as something different…?” you asked, reading maybe too much into the suggestion.

“I will go as far to admit that this isn’t my true body, so feel free to interpret that as you will,” he continued to say, “I’d prefer if this particular alliance stays in the dark about it”

“Is there a reason why you’re lying to your allies?” you asked as though to recycle your question, unsure why he was avoiding giving you a proper answer. Maybe you shouldn’t have been asking somebody you didn’t really feel too safe around so many questions, but also you wanted to understand who exactly you were working with.

Kenjaku himself didn’t actually mind your relentless curiosity, as he always found people the most interesting when they want to learn more about what’s around them, rather than just accepting things at face value. The only time he felt that people, including sorcerers, were boring, was when they were a little too content with their position in life.

“The alliance is a group of special grade cursed spirits,” he spoke up again after a hot second, studying your reaction as he next considered his tone, “but being what they are, I can’t trust them.”

“Because they’re not human?” you asked once again, trying to keep up.

“That’s not the only reason, but it’s one of them,” Kenjaku confirmed, his expression remaining unreadable.

“So you don’t trust them but you trust me?” you asked, not following along again.

“Who said I trust you?” he smiled.

“D-do you?”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t truly trust anyone,” he replied in a sudden serious tone before it faded away immediately, a wide grin following after, “but that’s enough about me, you’re going to follow me along aren’t you?”

“You’re not giving me much of a choice,” you sulked. You could walk, but you didn’t feel great doing it.

“Correct, but you are free to fight back, you know,” Kenjaku teased, knowing you wouldn’t tempt it.

“Wouldn’t you just stop me?” you warily asked.

“Also correct, so why don’t you behave for now and follow me anyway, unless you’re prepared to find out what happens if you refuse to do so?” he sang almost, still wearing his smile.

Albeit reluctantly, you chose to go along with his request, pressured by what he was doing for you. His vague threat lingered in the back of your mind, reminding you that he wouldn’t let you refuse, wondering exactly what that had truly meant. While his threat remained empty, you couldn’t deny that there was danger behind his words and you weren’t in a shape to find out.

As you walked alongside him too, you couldn’t help but admit that there was a difference in your stride; the adjustments that he made proving seemingly beneficial.

The meet with his alliance proved however brief as he quickly determined that certain aspects of his plans shouldn’t be shared with you, wanting to keep you in the dark about the darker parts just to keep your willing participation—understanding that if you knew the true extent of it all, that you wouldn’t be so keen to help him.

Which would be a problem. For most things, he preferred a willing cooperation, which was what he was aiming to achieve by tricking his other allies too.

This was simply how Kenjaku worked though; he would be selective with his plans and how he chose to tell it and to whom. He told you that he would restore you in return for your cooperation and he told Mahito’s alliance that he’s on their side in exchange to bend them to his will.

Therefore, he decided that your role wasn’t to directly talk just yet. It was to be in the midst of a social setting, humans or cursed spirits be damned—either were draining enough, so he simply just kept you present as a shadowing ally knowing that the alliance wouldn’t care much to ask.

For now given your condition, your use was limited anyway. Even if you did return to your peak condition, he would likely just utilise you in combat regardless since that was his initial plan to exploit your technique.

As such while the discussion happened off to the side, your matters were turned elsewhere—towards a person that didn’t quite seem human but not like the cursed spirits up ahead either; seeking comfort within his company, feeling bored out of your mind.

Initially, Kenjaku paid very little attention towards your interactions with one of his creations, believing that your communication with him would be limited at best. However as you continued to speak with the death painting, he felt something stir deep within him that he didn’t quite like—let alone understand.

You continued your exchange with Choso either way, oblivious to his observations. You somehow got into the conversation about emotions with him.

“I’m sorry, I’m just curious,” the death painting mumbled, hoping to not scare you away—he liked humans and wanted to learn about them, but his opportunities were limited.

“You’re fine,” you tried to reassure, “I’m just a little lost on how to answer that question,” you added with a polite, albeit strained smile.

“Sorry,” he repeated again, his face looking at you with a sat yet fascinated gaze.

“I suppose that it feels a little chaotic, maybe?” you mused, considering his question with more thought. “I think humans tend to be emotionally driven, so maybe to be human is to be unpredictable.”

You paused, trying to determine if your words were even coherent.

“Does that make sense?”

Choso nodded as he processed your answer despite feeling still just a little confused by it—he also had emotions but he didn’t feel motivated by them but maybe he was also missing something.

“A little,” he replied.

He wanted to continue the conversation but the meeting seemed to have been concluded which meant that you were reunited soon with Kenjaku, who chose to move onto the objective of continuing the practice of your technique.

With surprising patience, he encouraged you to release small bursts of your technique as you learned to regain control of it, finding that there was progress to be seen already, causing him some relief as you continued to demonstrate what you were currently capable of, meaning come autumn, you probably could prove useful. With each controlled movement, you proved that the energy handled by the pendant was becoming more and more efficient, which is exactly what he wanted.

“I know you can do better than that” he teased you, wanting for you to increase your output.

You nodded as you then attempted to do just that, finding that you still didn’t have a proper handle of your technique as you were simply too out of practice. As a result, you ended up accidentally sending over a surge of energy far greater than anything you should have been capable of—at least currently.

Kenjaku’s eyes widened slightly in response while maintaining his relaxed posture as he watched you completely drain the pendant of energy once again but in a much greater amount, thinking that luckily you were stood over grass, since the fall wouldn’t be so bad this time.

And then, to his slight annoyance, Choso was the one who caught you mid-fall, leaving him confused as to why the death painting, usually so aloof and distant, suddenly seemed to intervene.

However, he didn’t let his annoyance show at all.

Not once.

He instead continued back with you completely alone, leaving the cursed spirit alliance to their own hideouts, wherever those currently were and even though they didn’t suspect a single thing, he still felt off about something to do with you.

Then there was you, who on the other hand, couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he acted strangely colder towards you as he guided you back, finding that despite his continued silence, there was something different about his overall demeanour.

Feeling confused and weary from what had happened overall, you reluctantly went off to sleep even though there was an unrelenting nagging confusion lurking in the back of your mind, failing to understand exactly why he treated you so well just yesterday ago and why you were now otherwise reduced to barely dirt.

Initially, you wondered if it was because the technique had failed you again.

However, you also found that after you had accomplished a full night’s sleep, that he seemed completely back to normal again.

In fact, he seemed to be over the top thrilled about something.

So what was that really?

[crowntism]

Sometimes things that are cliche are good, actually.

Leshy/reader and Kallamar/reader (I figured these two would be the most likely to fight lmao)

(THIS GOT LONGER THAN I INTENDED FOR IT TO I'M SO SORRY.)

You were a healer, or as close to one as you could be. You had some knowledge of diseases and injuries and the Lamb was more than happy to put you to work so they weren't the only one healing others.

You healed anybody in the cult regardless of who they were in the past, and though you were terrified of the minibosses and witnesses you were dutiful in your work.

You were never expecting to heal a former bishop though.

Leshy was the first one you met, as he constantly injured himself by running into things or tripping. He was an absolute terror in the medical tent, refusing to stay still and actively hissing at you when you tried to put salve on his injuries.

He only started respecting you when you had managed to pin the worm down and snarl at him that if he acted out one more time you would rip his leafy coverage out one by one.

Leshy still very much acts out when its the Lamb treating him, but he sits so nicely for you.

Leshy also often brings you lil knickknacks and cool stuff he finds, visiting the medical tent even if he isn't injured or ill and shirking his duties. He makes no indication he actually likes you in any way aside from the fact he doesn't immediately start knocking shit off the shelf like when its the Lamb in the tent.

Kallamar is the next bishop you meet, and he required a vast majority of your attention. The blue crown had made him immune to illnesses and now that he was without it his immune system was extremely weak.

It took days before you could relax and he wasn't on the brink of death, with even the Lamb being exhausted from fetching camellia endlessly.

You weren't entirely sure what to make of Kallamar at first, as when the Lamb was there he was quiet and subdued, but as soon as the Lamb left he'd become demanding and bratty.

He constantly demanded better bedding, complaining it was too hot or too cold, whined about how drab and dreary the medical tent was and it could've used more decoration. All sorts of asinine comments.

It wasn't until you snapped the wooden bowl you were eating from in half did he get the memo to behave.

Once he realized he wasn't a god anymore and couldn't really command anybody around he finally calmed down entirely. He wasn't polite or "nice" by any means, but it was leagues better than how he behaved at first.

Unlike with Leshy, who pretty much crushes on you right after you snap at him, Kallamar takes far longer to gain any affection for you. It takes months of Kallamar getting ill and you caring for him before he even considers you a non threat.

Its during one of his worse illnesses does that affection start to fully bloom. Where he has an extreme fever and can barely keep his eyes open. Every time he returns to consciousness, you're there fretting over him. Ensuring he doesn't dry out or become dehydrated, double checking that he's tucked in cozy, chasing out his siblings that visit if they get too loud. He's never felt so cared for in his life and it flusters him.

He avoids you for a few weeks after that but soon returns like nothing happened.

Leshy and Kallamar aren't aware of the others feelings until they both end up in the medical tent at the same time. Leshy is the one who picks up on it first, as without his eyesight he has become sensitive to other factors. He can sense the changes in his cowardly brother as you treat his wounds, and Kallamar can see the way his chaotic brother avoids twitching or moving as you disinfect his injuries.

They try to avoid petty fights within the medical tent, as they both know you wouldn't hesitate to kick them out. Instead they try their best to be the best damned helpers in the god damn world.

Leshy accompanies you to Darkwood to find camellias, stating he knows the best places to find them (he does). Kallamar on the other hand helps out in the tent itself, as he was the Bishop of Pestilence and therefor- has intensive knowledge on the diseases he wrought.

Gifts aren't really something either consider as you practically live in the medical tent and hate having clutter in there, so any gifts they'd get you are practical in nature.

Kallamar begs and pleads the Lamb to get you a specific book from Shamura's old temple, a book he knows you'd love as its about rare illnesses.

And Leshy finds you rare herbs and ingredients for medicine as gifts.

Their rivalry isn't that violent or extreme, as it is just brotherly fighting, but they still get on your nerves sometimes.

Neither brother even notice when you start spending more time with Shamura.