#papa bear thin man? papa bear thin man.

[iamespecter]

HEY REMEMBER WHEN I DID LADIES (+Six) IN DUCK ONESIES??!?!?!??!?!?

WELL NOW HAVE THIS *aggressively chucks it in your faces and runs away* /lh /pos

[hai7ani]

THE BOY WITH THE MP3 𓅹 haitani rindou

sfw, canon-typical violence, angst, troubled past/abusive situations, city boy x island girl please proceed with caution

prequel to the home collection 𖠋

part i / marigold

You think Tokyo is suffocating.

Everyone moves fast. People are constantly in a rush and you don't know why. One time a man in a suit was running while speaking loudly into his Nokia and he knocked you over. Your Cola fell to the floor, school books scattered all over from your unzipped bag and an elderly lady helped you up. That was it.

The atmosphere is different than it was back home. It's noisy with music from advertisements and the stores are always so huge. One time you waddled in to a supermarket on your way home with the motive of searching for a packet of thing Mama asked you buy after school. You spent 10 minutes navigating through the aisles and eventually stopped in front a wall full of different things in different packets.

You're not so sure what exactly Mama wanted, only remembering the words cheap and powder fall from her mouth before she ushered you out the house and slammed the door.

"Excuse me," You pull at the apron of a passing store clerk and she bows down to your height with a smile. "I don't know what my mother wants me to buy, but she wants something powder that is cheap." You show her the coins in your tiny hand and she hands you a packet of salt with a pat to the head. "Take this too. Eat it on your way home." She passes you a bottle of colourful gummy bears with a warm smile.

That evening, you return to your room teary-eyed with a stinging, red mark to your left cheek.

Mama never let you buy groceries ever again. She throws the half-finished bottle of gummy bears in the bin when you show her and points an accusing finger at Papa on the the couch. She yells at him for not helping around the house. She screams at him for not teaching his daughter better.

His daughter.

You cry when you're reminded that Mama isn't your biological mother.

He aims a heavy bottle of beer at the wall behind Mama. It shatters and the sharp pieces fly everywhere. Beer stains the pristine white walls and Mama cries loudly. He calls her annoying and he pushes you to the side when he exits the front door.

You find shards of glass in your hair when you go to shower and they cut your fingers while you pick them out raw with painful hisses.

You decide you don't like going to Costco anymore, and you remind yourself to kill the lady when you see her next time.

Mama wanted flour, not salt. And you are allergic to gelatine. It says so on the emergency contact card hanging around your neck.

You go to sleep feeling itchy all around that night. Mama doesn't help you with your allergies anymore.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

School is boring.

People never talk to you and there's not much work to do. You understand the classes, or most of it anyway. Math was never your specialty. When Souma-sensei calls on you to answer the equation written on the chalkboard, you don't reply. You fiddle with your fingers while drops of sweat drips from your forehead to the worksheet splayed on your desk.

"Can you answer the question?" Sensei says your name louder this time and you mumble your reply quietly. The girl sitting beside you laughs and you blush. "I cannot hear you, girl." He moves closer and you look up into his furious eyes. "You're wasting everyone's time."

"I don't know the answer."

You stayed behind class to clean up after everyone as a punishment for not knowing the answer to Question 17. "It is easy. We've been through this topic many times. How can you still not know?" Sensei slams a hand on the table loudly and you flinch. He reminds you of Papa and you don't like it.

"I'm sorry." You don't look into his eyes when you say it and he whips out a thin bamboo cane from under the desk. The thin one always hurts more than the thick ones. "Cover your wrist." And you do it as he lands three strikes on your left palm.

You bite on your lip until it bleeds, tolerating the pain and waiting for it to end. From the corner of your eyes, you spot a certain brunette peeking in at the doorway.

"Are you okay?" Kirara mouths to you when Sensei is distracted and you nod.

I'll be fine.

Mama is called to school later to talk about your progress and you walk home yourself after.

"I do not want to see your face right now. You piss me off, girl." She pokes at your forehead and you cry in front of the school gate with many, many other people looking. Some of them laugh, licking at their cones of ice creams and some of them continue minding their own business.

"I bring you all the way to Tokyo for you to behave like this? Unbelievable." And she stomps off after that. Her expensive Gucci bag that you're sure Papa didn't buy for her hits you in the shoulder with a loud thud as she walks off. You see her through teary eyes that she gets into a car with a man who isn't Papa and they kiss and drive off soon after.

You do not go home after that.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

You come from a small town in Okinawa. Mama is from Hyogo and Papa is a local. He used to work at a factory full-time and Mama works as a nurse in the hospital.

You grow up as an only child with no cousins. You asked Mama once and she simply shut you down with a shake of her head. "Too young to know."

You don't ask her again.

And like every other eleven year-old in Okinawa, you like music and going to the beach. The shores are always so pretty and calming and you always tell Aaliyah, your best friend that you never want to leave this place with the wind blowing through your hair. She nods in agreement and tells you stories of the dangers of America along with the reasons why she doesn't want to go back there. Aaliyah plays Biggie on her brother's speaker and you spend the evening scraping your knee on the boardwalk. You feel determined to learn this new trick on your skateboard.

But this chapter ended drastically when Papa quit his job one day in the middle of Summer and you hear him discuss with Mama at the dining table of your old home. "Honey, let's go to Tokyo. You remember Kota? Yeah, he said he got me a job there, somewhere in Minato, but I'll have to go see it for myself first. Let's go now. He got us plane tickets cheap." You don't remember a lot other than Papa selling the house and sending Grandma off to a care center, and all of a sudden you're holding Mama's hand while standing in the heart of a foreign city.

Tokyo Tower shines brightly above you under the night sky and it hurts your eyes. "Are we in Minato?" You ask her with a squint and she smiles brightly. "Yes. We're gonna be so happy here, girl."

Mama squeezes your hand and drags you along but you don't feel convinced. You suddenly miss Grandma's hugs and Aaliyah's laughter as you mispronounce an English word.

Mama enrols you at a neighbourhood public school and gives you ¥800 for allowance whenever she feels like it. "We have to watch our money now. Do you think we are very rich?" She answered with a hiss when you curiously asked why she didn't give you the usual ¥1000.

You start saving your changes in your piggy bank that you hide under your creaky bed. You don't like the thought of Papa seeing it because you once saw him taking money from Mama's wallet when she was in the shower.

Papa hands you a bill when he spots you peeping. "Don't tell your mother." He pats your head with warning eyes. It didn't make you feel good, so you gave it back to Mama soon after he left the house. She hit you that night and called you a thief. "Where are the rest?" She yells as she flips your bedroom inside out. "I didn't take it, Mama. Please believe me."

Pieces of your broken piggy bank sits in the bin later with no more money in it. You squat beside it and try to piece them back together with bloody, wobbly fingers and teary eyes.

You mentally make a note to never give Mama back her money anymore. You tell yourself to let Papa go when he takes more of her cash. You swear to yourself you will make a lot of money in the future and give it to Grandma when you return to Okinawa.

But Grandma passed away shortly after you called to tell her just that. "Granny, please wait for me. I will come home soon with lots of money and I'll buy a nice house for you." "Okay, sweetie. I will be waiting for you. Please take care."

Neither Papa nor Mama let you go home for her funeral. You cried yourself to sleep the entire week with a broken heart and deep regrets while you mourn her death silently in your quiet bedroom.

And unlike back home, you don't have a lot of friends in Tokyo. Everyone else never talks to you unless needed and you don't talk to them either. You can never understand what they are saying; they speak so different than the people in Okinawa did. Everyone looks at you with lingering eyes and are never nice to you except for one girl.

Her name is Shimabukuro Kirara and she's in the class next door. You see her for lunch sometimes and she tells you about her day. But when her other friends come she says goodbye and leaves you alone at the quiet stairs.

You wonder if Kirara is happy. She always has a nice smile and you heard she has good grades, too. Her seemingly expensive schoolbag shimmers under the sun and she proudly shows it to the people who asks about it. But she is always nice to you, unlike the other people in school.

You wonder if you are considered her friend. You want to be friends with her, if not.

You're in the process of admiring the view of the city in front of you, fingers picking mindlessly at the grass beneath as you think about Kirara. What is her life like at home? Does her father throw glasses at walls when angry and does her mother ever hit her when she makes a mistake? You wonder and wonder and wonder.

Your eyes follow the cars that passes by highways, the warm yellow lights in tall apartments that goes off and on at different hours, the sounds of planes flying past in the night sky above.

You decide that you like it here. You look around and make it a permanent note to come here next time. Next time? That is if Mama doesn't murder you for not going home. Though you doubt she even cares.

"She did say she didn't want to see me." You mumble to yourself and pout as you hug your knees close to your tightening chest. You feel like crying but nothing comes out. Perhaps it is numbness? Or are you simply too afraid and tired to care anymore? You're not too sure. You are only eleven, after all.

A moment passes as you get lost in your jumbled thoughts. A boy walks up the hill and his clumsy hands drops his MP3 on the grass. "Shit." He curses and it catches your attention.

You turn around and see a boy about your age who is bending down and picking up the gadget that is still playing faint music. You recognise the beat (it's a favourite) and grow interested and you watch with sparkling eyes as he dusts off the dirt while clicking his tongue.

You take this moment to observe him.

A light green hoodie that says G.A.P., blonde hair in a high bun, round silver metal glasses perched on top of his nose, chubby cheeks that compliments him well and you notice the black ink that goes down his right leg under his red and black basketball shorts. You look back up and notice he isn't very tall and . . .

He's looking at you.

"What're you starin' at?" He asks rudely and creases his brows. You blink and fix yourself when you hear him speaking to you. "Oh, sorry." You blush when he doesn't look away.

"Why are you here?" You try to think of something. "I didn-"

"Who told you about this place? Is it Ran?" The boy is standing in front of you now and demanding answers. The MP3 is still playing Still Dre by Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg and you're getting distracted by it. You're not taking him very seriously despite the given situation. "Um, no. Who is Ran?" You stand up as well and find that he is taller than you.

He studies you for a minute before clicking his tongue. "Never mind." He turns around and hops on top of a wooden fence, balancing his butt on it.

Neither of you talk after that.

Grandma always told you to make a decision and stick to it. You nod to yourself.

You grab the handle of your school bag from the grassy ground and drop it on the foot of the fence beside him. He stares at you with a raised brow, "what are you doing?"

You don't say anything but hop on beside him, to which he scoots away and grows alert, hand gripping his MP3 tight for dear life and you take a peek at it. You see the words on the screen and you grin brightly.

"Dr. Dre, huh?" "What the heck-"

The boy blinks at you in confusion. You continue grinning and snatch the gadget away from his hands and scroll through it.

"I know a lot of these songs."

You scan through the playlists and grow even fonder when you notice him gaping at you. "Can I borrow this?"

He's quick to shut you down. "No," and he snatches it back. "Go away." He fixes his glasses with a frown.

You pout and look away, choosing to stare at the very interesting tree instead. He changes the song and Marigold by Nirvana starts playing. You grin and turn to look at his MP3 again but he's already glaring at you. "I said go away." He hisses.

"Can I stay here, at least?" You move and point to the other fence facing him. He ponders and clicks his tongue, waving a dismissive hand at you. "Whatever. Just don't talk to me." And you happily move over to sit opposite of him while hugging your bag.

The boy doesn't talk to you but he's very much aware of your every actions. The way you're bopping your head to whatever music he's playing, your lips that don't stop smiling and it's obvious to him that you're enjoying the atmosphere.

He decides to bite.

". . . How'd you know all these songs?" His voice is quiet when he asks but you perk up at his question.

"I'm from Okinawa. Some people speak English there and a lot of Americans visit yearly. They play great music, and I like music." You grin and he listens intently with as much comprehension he has for an accent that he doesn't speak. Both of his hands hangs in between his legs and the MP3 is now quiet. You wish he continued playing it.

But you continue, "my best friend is from The Bronx in New York City, but she lives in Okinawa because her father is in the military. She plays Hip-hop for me and teaches me English from time to time." You think of Aaliyah who has been contacting you through e-mail all this time.

The boy is confused when you finish.

"You're a girl, from Okinawa, and you know American Hip-hop." He frowns. You cock your head to the side, "why can't I?"

"Girls are supposed to be boring."

"I am not, I think." You grow angry all of a sudden at his words. "And why do you boys always look down on girls? It is not funny. We are plenty of fun."

He flushes when confronted with your angry eyes. No girl has ever made him feel this way before. "'S just . . . All the girls in my class talks about the same thing. 'N they like annoying me. I don't like that."

"Then they must be mean girls." You think of the group of girls in your class who takes a liking to you. Taking a liking to bullying you, that is.

"Not all girls are boring. And there's nothing wrong with being boring, anyway. Just have fun, be who you are. How I wish I can do it here in Tokyo. I miss being home."

He is silent as he processes your words. Perhaps he has been wrong all this time. Not all girls are the same. Just like how him and Ran are both polar opposites despite being siblings.

The boy comes to a conclusion and figures you aren't boring. You speak different and you listen to music different from the girls in his school. You probably like many other different things, too.

There must be a lot to find out about you.

"How long have you been in Tokyo?"

"Just a while. I got here in late July, sooo . . ." You count with your fingers, "maybe two and a half months. But I don't like it here." You shrug and he raises a brow.

"Hah? You don't like Tokyo?" You shake your head at his dismissive tone. "Nope." You don't give any further reasons and he makes a disgusted expression. "I have never met anyone that doesn't like it here."

"Of course you haven't. You live here, don't you?" You question and he nods. You think of all the reasons that has made you come to this conclusion. You don't feel too good. "Well, I don't care. I don't like Tokyo, that's it." You take a sip from your water bottle and close the cap with a loud clack. He sighs and lets it go.

"Why are you here then?" He asks, half-lidded purple eyes staring up at the stars above. He cannot see a lot of them tonight, and he gives up before glancing at you who is looking up too. It must've been brighter in Okinawa. And she has to stare at Tokyo skies now. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

The two of you are so similar, yet so different.

Him, a city boy who goes to a private school in Roppongi and listens to Hip-hop all day. He talks back to authoritarian adults and slaps people who tries picking a fight. You, an island girl who spends (or spent) your days sunbathing and skateboarding at the boardwalk, drinking lemonade and doing what girls your age do.

You listen to the same music and stare up at the same sky. Only one's stars in the sky is brighter than the other.

He's just a boy, and you're just a girl.

". . . Ran didn't tell me about this place." You reply and he clicks his tongue. "I know that. I'm asking why are you here. It's late."

You don't feel like replying a lot. The boy waits for you to answer and you simply grin when you think about it. ". . . I'm running away from home."

It kinda feels nice to say. You're running away from your troubled and abusive home. You wanna say it more.

He blinks. "Why?"

You figure you'll let it out. You're here, he's here; it might even be the last time you'll ever see him.

Screw it.

"Mama wasn't nice to me today, so I didn't feel like going home, but I don't think she'll notice. I also saw her with another man today, I think they're dating. I don't know. It's confusing, I don't wanna think 'bout it."

You're reminded of the recent nights that Mama comes home late and Papa waits up in the living room drinking beer and watching TV. And when she doesn't return when the clock strikes 1, he gives up and goes to bed alone.

What's the big deal about returning home at 9pm anyway? Mama won't be home to see you come in, and Papa would be too drunk to even notice at this hour.

The boy hops off the fence with a huff and you look at him. He starts walking away with a lazy wave. "See ya."

"H-hey!" You stutter while hopping off and picking up your heavy schoolbag from the ground. "Where're you goin'?!"

"Go home. It's late. There's all kinds of people around here." He says before speeding down the hill. Ran's gonna kill him if he doesn't go back by 10.

"I-" you pause when the lamppost above you flickers quickly and suddenly-

It's dark. Absolute pitch black. And you're scared of the dark. You start tearing up.

You hear footsteps walking away and follow behind it timidly in little steps. "Hey. Please." You call out again with fat tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

You sniffle and the footsteps stop. ". . . I don't know how to go home." You try blinking the tears away but they don't stop. You don't like being left alone.

You hear the boy sigh loudly before a bit of rustling sounds through and suddenly, with a click, you can finally see again. He points his flashlight in your direction and you squint. He beckons you to come over. You hurry and his flashlight shines at the ground, leading the way of you to him.

"Where do you live?" He asks when you finally stop in front of him. You wipe your tears with the sleeves of your uniform and mumble out the address Mama forced you to memorise. "I have to go home by nine-thirty. Mama usually comes home at ten." He nods.

The boy takes the first step and you follow tightly behind him, a hand reaching up to tug at his hoodie and he blushes. He'd normally slap anyone's hands away if they touch a single hair on him but he leaves yours there. You don't let go until you finally see the city again.

He quickly navigates through the little alleyways like a pro and soon, you find yourself standing in front of your apartment complex at 9:30pm sharp.

"Bye." He says curtly and turns around to leave. You pull on his hoodie and he hisses when the fabric chokes his neck.

"What's your name?" There's a shimmering glint in your eyes when you ask. He can't find it in him to tell you no.

"Rindou. You?"

You tell him your name with a bright smile and bid him good night. It's the third time someone in Tokyo has asked for your name. Your eyes linger on the MP3 in his left hand before reluctantly looking away and leaving in clumsy steps. He stares at your disappearing figure as you go up the stairs and enter your apartment unit.

Rindou sighs and his bored, purple eyes flicker to the shadows hiding behind a lone lamppost.

"What do you want?"

A tall man emerges from the dark. "Who's that?" He smirks, a lollipop hanging from his lips and pervertic eyes gawking at your apartment complex. Rindou rolls his eyes with a click of his tongue.

He'd have never walked you home if he knew this would happen.

"No one. What do you want?" Rindou pushes again.

"Hehe," The man giggles cunningly and a few other taller men appear behind him. "To crush you, of course. And if we win, we'll get the little girl." He licks his lips.

Rindou doesn't return home until 11pm that night.

He holds the gang leader by his hair and hisses in his ear. "You leave her alone, got it? Forget everything that you saw today."

Rindou is capable of taking down a relatively strong gang all by himself, but Ran never lets him. Though only eleven, the younger son of the Haitani household who have always been into martial arts since he was really young trains whenever he can. He begged his mother to let him take martial arts classes in return for going to school and never missing a single day. He's up-kept his side of the bargain until now.

The poor man with broken nose and limbs nods quickly, a mixture of snort and blood dripping from his nose as he sobs, "I'm sorry! I swear I'll forget everything. Please let me go."

He throws him on the ground and sighs. The boy glances at your apartment complex again and sends a quick message to his brother on his Blackberry. He updates him on the newest gang out of many that has just picked a fight with him in the middle of the night. Rindou leaves out the part where he explains why.

To protect a girl he didn't even know.

He shoves the device in his pocket after finishing and leaves.

"I'm an idiot."

Rindou swears he will never see you again.

/ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ reblogs are appreciated!

here's the story of how reader ran away when she was eleven and first met rindou at the spot

[miguels-wifey]

HIDE AND SEEK

WARNINGS: NSFW, fluff, bit of angst (or a lot, i could be lying)

WORDS: 1.8k

SUMMARY: he usually knows where gabi hides, why doesn't he know today? he isn't your miguel, but you're his y/n.

A/N: my neighbors are arguing, i wrote this at 2:35 am.

“Ay, Dios. Gabi.. where are you, mija?” Miguel looked around the house, playing hide and seek never ended well. Considering that he was the leader of their Spider-Man cult— thing, Gabriella always hid in good places.

“She's right over there, Mig.” you whisper to him as he walks past your bedroom. “Papa! You found me!” she giggled as Miguel took her in his arms. “As much as I love you two, Gabi, baby, you have school tomorrow. It's late, go to bed. Darling, you have work in the morning.” the father-daughter duo huffed in disappointment but reluctantly said goodnight and retreated to their bedrooms.

You peered over at your husband as he sat on the edge of the bed. “What was that back there?” you asked, not a serious question. You were simply asking why he needed you to help find Gabriella. Usually, he would find her pretty quickly. “What do you mean, cariño?” you shrug, brushing off your slight curiosity. “Nevermind, maybe she just hid well today.” you muttered as you flipped through pages of your book. “Okay... Goodnight, mi amor.” your eyes hovered over his wrist. He wasn't wearing it. When you two became started dating, so many years ago, it's funny now that you recall it all. You made him a bracelet with your initials and his— cheesy, you knew it too, but he loved it and wore it till now. The only times he took it off was when he showered, before work and during sex. Always managed to remember to put it on right after work.

“Babe, where's your bracelet?” you were replied with soft snoring by your waist. What has gotten into him? You quietly set down your book and turned off the bedside lamp. “I love you.” you thought you heard Miguel mumble against your skin as he pulled you closer. “I love you too, big guy.” you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Miguel has been... more affectionate, no— you couldn't really describe his recent behavior. But you knew his love for you and your daughter didn't change. It felt like he was grasping onto what was left of his life. As if you and Gabi would disappear into thin air. You did. But you don't need to know that. He seemed forgetful. His daily routine seemed out of place to you. He would forget things, or that was what he told you at least. He forgot to take Gabriella to soccer practice after school one day. He never forgets.

“Mierda. Lyla, I need you to pull up the damn anomaly diagnostics. I don't want anything messing up.” Miguel grumbled as a hologram popped up from his watch, “you got it grumpy!” he looked at the diagnostics. Everything was okay. Everything was perfectly fine, just the way things should be. “Thank you.” he took off the watch. He never glitched— for some odd reason, it only happened to the other spiders. Maybe because he went through so many universes to find you, you and Gabi.

“Honey, we're home!” you shouted from the living room, loud enough for him to hear. “Papa! Look what mommy bought for me!” the little girl held out a teddy bear almost taller than her. It had beady eyes and a little bow tie. “That's so cute, mija! Did you thank mama?” she nodded with a huge grin on her face, “it's so fluffy. I love it!” she squealed as she ran to her bedroom.

“Gabi wanted pizza for dinner, sooo we are ordering in. Thank God, I didn't feel like cooking tonight.” you groaned as your smaller frame was engulfed by Miguel's arms. “How was work, Miggy?” his fingers ran through your hair, “boring. No lab explosions today.” you snickered at his words. “That does seem pretty boring,” you say with a click of your tongue. He chuckled as you moved to look at him. “Y'know, your mom said that it was about time Gabi had a little brother or sister.” Miguel's smile grew, “she did?” you hummed, “mhm... although I think she just wants another grandchild.”

Without any further questions, you found yourself laying in bed on your back with your husband's hands gripping onto your waist and your nails digging into his back. “Slow down, Miguel!” you whined as he pounded into you, “I'm sorry–” he catches his breath as his movements slow down, “are you alright? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry- I didn't mean to..” you shook your head. “No, I'm fine. I'm okay, Mig. Still in one piece.” you laughed as you brought your lips to his cheek. “It's not funny, cariño. I'm not laughing.” he pulled out of you and slipped his boxers back on. “My husband usually gets my jokes. Are you sure that you're him?” you joked, not knowing that your little joke would cause him to freak. He froze at your words, “what? What's wrong? Darling?”

“Nothing. Everything is just fine,” perfectly fine.

Nothing was perfectly fine. He wasn't your Miguel, and he knew it. He wouldn't get your little inside jokes, and your suspicions grew, but thankfully, he managed to get past your questions. He tried to get as much information about your universe's Miguel from HQ as he could. He knows that you two went to the same high school, you became friends in college, and then started dating. He proposed 4 years into your relationship. A year later, you got married, and your dress was classy, elegant. “Men wear boring suits you can never depend on one for fashion advice”, you said that in your toast to him. The wedding was on the beach, it was spring. Not summer– you loved summer, but a summer wedding would've been too late into the year.

You were pregnant with Gabi a year and a half after your wedding. The three of you celebrated Gabi's 6th birthday at Chuck E. Cheese, she begged for a birthday there but ended up terrified of the robot rat. Or is he a mouse? You never knew the difference. But, she was so scared of him that she slept in your bedroom that night.

A few months later, your Miguel died. You didn't know. You didn't know he was Spider-Man. He died saving the city. Although it was a sad thing, Miguel couldn't help but take his place. So he took it. He knew you. You were just like his y/n. The only difference was the memories you shared.

“Shit, that's the pizza guy.” you got up from the bed and swiftly put on your clothes. You sprinted over to the front door, paid and thanked the delivery guy, and set the boxes on top of the dining table. “Miguel! Gabi! Dinners here, come on.” you saw them pop out of the hallway and take their spots at the dinner table. “Mommy after I finish eating dinner, can we play Hide and Seek tonight?” Gabriella asked, her little legs swinging back and forth from her chair. “I don't see why not. Who's gonna be the seeker, baby?” Gabi smiles and points at Miguel, “Papa!”

[goodday-goodmorn]

Not used to posting things so fast- But the brain worms have infected me and @auspicioustidings concepts give me life. Once again- another from them, i felt contractually obligated to write this because my auntie is in Vegas for her birthday right now.

The concept in question

Not the after effects of waking up- but rather the proposal itself. This one’s short cause i pumped it out real quick. Just a little dabble.

————————

Ah Vegas. City of love. Wait no that was Paris- city of… sin? Well that sounded too much like a trashy YA romance novel for your tastes so- Vegas, City of…

Vegas: City!

God maybe you should lay off the M and M’s. Lavender and Bright cyan blue little things from the M and M factory are making you really taste the rainbow. Shit that was skittles catchphrase wasn’t it? Actually- did M and M’s even have a catchphrase other than the sexy brown M and M? Though that was less a phrase more a person. Er- candy. Chocolate.

Pah! You should have never gone to the M and M factory. Stupid little chocolate candy is making you think far more than you can handle right now.

Seriously it’s messing with your head. You’d better get rid of them.

You throw your M and M factory bag onto the floor, watching all the candies scatter the pavement in an explosion of color. That's why the pretty colors are so dangerous and not sold in the normal packs. They make people all loopy. Cause there’s no other reason you would be so outta sorts.

Except maybe the daiquiri you’d had. And the Manhattan. And those shots. And whatever that weird drink in a glowing lightbulb was.

Okay maybe it wasn’t the M and M’s.

Which means you just threw them out for nothing oh no! 20 dollars down the drain. And your M and M’s!

You whine mournfully over the loss, sinking to the ground dramatically and cradling one of the cyan shelled candies close.

“Is everything all… right?”

You barely register the voice- British and a bit rugged- before you are drunkenly rambling out-

“No- i thought my M and M’s were evil but they weren’t and i killed them for nothing!” You cry out, the words making you even more emotional, you pathetically sob, holding the cyan candy in your palms to your chest.

“Come back! Liveee please. Papa didn’t mean it i swear, i didn’t know what i was saying- you got me all tongue tied!”

“Hey-“

Oh british man has a very nice voice, so smooth and gentle, more than you were expecting.

“It’s alright love. We can get you some more candies.”

You sniffle.

“R-really?”

He smiles like some sort of teddy bear. Gentle and soft.

“Yes really. Just gotta get you back to wherever you’re stayin at first. It’s dangerous for a pretty girl to be on the street like this.”

You nod sollumly. “For the m and m’s yeah. Hard shells- but thin. Can’t be carrying em’ out in the cold. Poor little fellows can’t stand it.”

“Think you should be worrying about yourself first love.”

He really does look a teddy bear when he smiles. A very warm and cuddly teddy bear. Very warm. And you are oh so cold. Maybe…

“…maybe i’m and M and M.”

You mumble with a little frown, looking away from his oh so pretty eyes to instead stare at the cracked M and M in your hand.

He chuckles, it’s a nice sound.

“Com’re lovely. You’re shiverin.”

He held you up and you cling to him naturally. To your disappointment and utter display he is not as soft as a Teddy bear. Such false advertising. When you burry your head in his chest, while warm and soothing- it is firm with muscle. Hard just like his arms and co-

“Not exactly what i meant by that sweetheart.”

He’s pushing you away! Away from the warmth.

“No, I'm an M and M- gotta be warm or else I'll crack! Do you want me to die?”You whine out trying to stay close but he’s very strong, holding you firmly away from his toned chest.

(And raging boner. Not that you noticed it.)

“I know, I know- here. I’ll give you my coat.”

He wraps you up in his thick but soft coat and you relax immediately, snuggling into the fabric. With your eyes closed you hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“There’s a girl. Nice and warm now?”

You nod, making a drowsy and soft little “Yup.”

“Good. Now come’on. You know where's your hotel at?”

“Huh? We can’t go there! We gotta get more M and M’s first. Silly.”

“Right, course. Silly me.”

You giggle a bit hysterical. He agrees with you so easily, letting you link arms with him and walking you to the M and M factory. He’s so silly. With his cozy coat and koala-esc smile and pretty eyes and rumbly voice and-

“I think m’ in love with you.” You slur out, gazing at him with half lidded eyes.

“Shouldn’t say stuff like that sweetheart. Might give a guy ideas.”

Ah Ideas, you’ve got a lot of ideas. So many fun ones- but mostly one that you blurt out after he gently pushed your hand away when you tried to pay for your new M and M’s.

“I think I wanna kiss you.”

Price pauses as he tugs you outside the shop. Looks down at you, clinging to his arm, wrapped up in his coat; with the sweetest face and clearly wasted out of your mind. Price isn’t a good man. A good man would have called you a cab to get you back to your hotel. Would have asked if you had any friends to get you there. Would have gently told you to go to the stupid M and M factory another time.

He’s not a good man but even Price isn’t fucked up enough to take advantage of a pretty drunk girl. Even if his self control is wilting the more time he spends around the mess that is you.

He shakes his head with a little sigh, leaning down close to you and mumbling.

“S’ not a good idea to kiss strangers love.”

“So then marry me and we won’t be strangers.”

…Self control John. Self control.

“Will you marry me please?”

You plead with the teddy bear man, he’s just so cozy and pretty you can’t help it. You wanna kiss him soooo bad but he’s right you can’t kiss a stranger! But if he was your husband then it would be perfectly acceptable. And you are an ordained minister technically so it all works out!

Price looks at you, your pleading eyes, your softness, you wrapped up in his coat and clinging to his arm. Pretty little thing.

…He deserves to let his self control slip just this once right?

[p1nkcanoe]

dreamy bruises

[ mountain x secondo smut ]

summary: secondo calls upon his most massive ghoul for a favor. warnings: anal sex, rough sex, oral sex, facials words: 2014

!! for @copiasjuicebox since we've talked so much about secondo's gorgeous ass

Click here to read on Ao3 or read below:

“My ghoul,” Secondo sighs, almost bored in tone and inflection. He cranes his neck back where it's pressed against his mattress to catch the eyes of the massive earth ghoul who’s pushing the head of his dick agonizingly slow into his hole. “Get on with it, won’t you? I have paperwork in my office more interesting than this.” 

Secondo’s room is warm both in atmosphere and in temperature, lit by the grand stone hearth that crackles and burns bright, and Mountain is already covered in a thin layer of sweat. He’s nervous, has been since the tiny sibling knocked on the door to the den and requested that Mountain meet his Papa in his bedroom. “ASAP,” she’d said before turning on her heels and escaping back into the abbey. He’d thought he’d been in trouble, perhaps finally getting punishment for the marble bust he’d accidentally walked into months ago. What he didn’t expect was to find his Papa strewn out on his bed clad only in an evergreen colored robe and a glass of red wine in his hand, beckoning him inside and asking him to lock the door behind him. “I have a special request…” he’d said in that gorgeous, husky voice. Everything after that had been a blur. 

Mountain pushes in. It’s still slow, despite the obscene amount of lube that he’d slicked up his dick with, but Secondo seems to be pleased with it. He groans, grits his teeth as the ghoul slides in, drinking up the sting of delicious pain as he stretches around the biggest cock he’s ever taken in his life. His fists tangle expensive silk sheets between his fingers. Every muscle in his body is rigid and Mountain keeps petting at his sides, reminding him gently to relax, until finally his hips meet the back of his thighs and push into those round, hairless cheeks. He ghosts the tips of his claws over the small of his Papa’s back, listening and focusing on the sound of his breathing, the pound of his heartbeat, and waiting for him to open up completely so as to not cause him any real pain–or worse–bear him an injury. 

“Well?” Secondo looks back at him again. This time, it’s irritation etched onto his features. “Am I going to have to hold your hand through this or are you going to fuck your Papa?” 

Mountain stutters, repositions his hands on Secondo’s hips and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Papa. I wasn’t sure if you wanted time to adjust or–”

“I appreciate your hesitance, but if I wanted to feel mediocre cock I would've called for Water.”

Mountain frowns. Secondo is still so tight around him, still pulsing and spasming around such a large intrusion, and he desperately wants to give him at least a minute more to get used to it. Even Earth, the biggest size queen he knows, takes a moment to breathe before they really get started. But he also doesn’t want to get chirped at again, doesn’t want to make his Papa crane that pretty neck of his, so against his own wishes he pulls out until his head catches on his rim and pushes back in with a snap of solid hips. It forces a punched, ugly noise from Secondo’s throat and Mountain almost stops to ask him if he’s okay, but then he - “Again. Harder, faster.” And Mountain straightens back up on his knees and does as he’s told. 

The next few sounds are equally as ugly, equally as guttural, but Mountain doesn’t stop. He digs his fingers into Secondo’s hips, grips onto hard muscle and bone, and pulls back into every rough punch of his hips. It doesn’t take long before the man under him adjusts to the abuse, his lips pursing closed to show his pleasure through pretty hums rather than harsh vocalizations. He gives him a particularly hard thrust that jerks his body forward, sliding over slippery satin, and still, he offers him a pretty moan in return, pleased despite how his knuckles are as white as the sheets folded around him. 

His Papa is pretty like this, on his knees with his chest pushed into his own mattress. He’s not as beefy as Omega is, but just as tall, maybe taller. His body, thick with muscle and fat, is divine and the ghoul can’t help himself from touching. He runs his hands over the broad plane of his back, feels his skin and kneads it with the heel of his palms. His thighs are perfect, too. Just the perfect combination of muscle hidden beneath a solid layer of fat dimpled with cellulite and imperfection. His Papa is human. It’s a reminder of his mortality, his fragility… He loves it. 

Mountain could stay like this for a while, fucking into his Papa’s hole and exploring the shape and the foreign feel of his body, but in truth he’s getting bored. His thighs are stiff, uncomfortable from kneeling for so long, and his ass is beginning to cramp, so the ghoul pulls out almost completely and adjusts himself to plant his right foot flat against the mattress. He pushes back in and Secondo mewls at the slight change in angle. He’s more free to move this way. He has better control of his hips. The new position makes anything he’s given him before seem amateur. 

Large hands splay themselves back against his hips, using the leverage to pull him back onto his cock when he pistons forward. And Secondo seems to enjoy it. He squirms against the sheets, stretching his thick arms out in front of him to grab on to the edge of the mattress for some sort of hold that he won’t grasp. Mountain fucks him hard, rough, and can’t help but still feel a little uneasy about the punched and pained noises that fall from his lips. But he’d asked for it, told him hard and fast, so Mountain gives it to him. 

“More, my ghoul,” he forces out between thrusts, his voice strained and hissing through his teeth. 

“Papa, forgive me, but I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Hurt me. Make me sore. Bite me, scratch me, I don’t care–fuck your Papa like you mean it.” 

He does mean it. He’s really trying to give his Papa what he needs, but somehow he still manages to fall short. Mountain sighs, catches his breath before pulling out completely and using Secondo’s hips as a support, he gets up on both feet and crouches into an awkward squat. “My ghoul, what’re you–oh–!” Mountain lines his dick up with his hole and plants the other hand on his waist. He drops his hips and bends his knees and oh, it’s good. 

The new position and angle means that Mountain isn’t only fucking him, isn’t just thrusting his hips forward until they meet that pretty, round ass, but it mean’s that he’s dropping most of his weight into his hips and really drilling him. It’s rough, powerful, and every drop makes his Papa nearly scream in pleasure. He fucks him real good, puts everything he’s got into pounding his ass, and he’s grunting, growling deep in his chest while his muscles ache and burn in exertion. 

“Finally. I knew you were more than just a big dick. Finally, a gifted ghoul who can actually use the thing.” 

Secondo lets out a breathy little laugh after that like he can’t believe it and Mountain doesn’t know quite what to say. How many ghouls have been in his place? How many have been granted this privilege? He doesn’t know, isn’t sure if he wants to know, so he doesn’t respond. Instead, settling for leaning further forward and over his Papa, planting his hands on his sides near his fragile ribs and pressing more of his weight into him there. Mountain is a massive ghoul. Bearing most of his weight into the much smaller man and still expecting him to hold himself up is almost a loss. Secondo shakes. His thighs wobble, threaten to give out, and his back arches into a position that is clearly unfamiliar and harsh for him. The weight makes it difficult for him to breathe and suck in a proper breath but Mountain couldn’t care less. He’s too far gone himself, driven by his own need to cum and also maybe get some healing quintessence magic in him later to deal with the ache. 

“Yeah, that’s good,” Secondo wheezes, punctuated by moans. “Keep going, keep doing that.” 

Mountain fucks his Papa so hard that his bed shakes against it’s wooden supports and the headboard slams against the wall. The noises that come from him are growls, feral and ghoulish in nature, and he digs into the sheets, chasing his own end. 

Beneath him, he watches as Secondo snakes an arm underneath his body to stroke his cock. He watches, enraptured by the movement of his arm as it glides over his dick, and licks at his fangs when Secondo curses at the stimulation, speeding up faster and faster and faster until his legs shake impossibly more and he cums with a shout over his hand and his expensive, silk sheets. 

“Papa, where do you want me to–”

He cuts him off before he can finish. 

“Pull out.” 

Mountain really doesn’t want to pull out. What he really wants is to keep pounding into his Papa’s ass until his balls squeeze up tight and he floods that pretty hole. But he’s not in charge here. Not in this room. So he forces himself up using the old man’s hips again and clambers down to his knees again. The ability to rest his aching muscles is almost enough to send him over the edge as is. 

“Help me up, won’t you? Then I need you in that armchair,” he motions to a crushed velvet armchair next to the fire. “I’m going to finish you off.” 

Mountain shuffles back until he’s able to stand on the wooden floor and he offers out his hand to Secondo, who takes it and uses it to shakily rise from the bed and onto the floor. He motions to the chair again and Mountain gets the hint, guiding his Papa to the spot and sitting. Secondo sinks to his knees before him. 

The first contact of his tongue against the tip of his flushed dick is like lightning. His mouth is hot, not as hot as Alpha’s or even Air’s, but warm and wet and good and he throbs when he wraps a hand around it. He tries to sink his mouth onto his shaft, to take him down, but it’s apparent that that won’t be happening. His lips go taut only two inches down before Mountain’s girth stretches him too far. It’s nothing the ghoul isn’t used to. Secondo rises back up towards the tip, sucks at it and uses his tongue to lick up his pre that wells in his mouth. He’s not the best at giving head, but it’s enough. 

Mountain groans when Secondo bobs his head over the small section of his length, using his hands for the rest of it, and it doesn’t take him long to reach his end. He feels it in his stomach, then feels it in his balls as they tighten up and he’s too slow to ask where his Papa wants it before he’s cumming hot and thick over his mouth, nose, and cheek. Mortification sets in quickly once the high fades away. 

“Papa–I didn’t mean to–” 

Secondo raises a hand up to shush him. “It’s good, my ghoul. But please, grab your Papa a washcloth and start the bath…” 

Mountain gawks, frozen in place, as he watches him drag a finger through the mess on his cheek and suck it into his mouth until it's clean. The glimmer of it, shiny with spit, is enough to snap him out of it and he jumps up, rushing to the bathroom to waste no more time. If he wants this again, he needs to make this the best bath of his life.

[ssgaveyard]

household essentials

1–

Sarada was used to the hustle and bustle of their home even though growing up it was just mostly her and her mama.

Now that's she's an adult, the house was never quiet either, but what throws her a little off balance is that it's her papa filling the silence.

He seemed so different but still so gentle and patient with her. Mama used to joke that papa's quiet because he's still growing into his tongue. Papa would glare at mama halfheartedly, and she would grin. He'd shake his head and smirk with a low muttering of 'annoying'.

What an odd couple. How could that one word means so much to them?

'Annoying.'

Then she remembers that her parents had a life before her, one filled with pain, sacrifices, and war. That one word encompasses their history and everything they had to get through to where they are.

"I'm leaving for my mission, Papa!"

He comes to the door and sees her off, like he did every day without fail.

"Have a great day, Sarada. I love you."

She still gets flustered when papa does this! She was an adult, not some kind going off to the academy, but she understands.

She meets the Hokage and before official business he'd always ask, "How's Sasuke doing?"

And she'd say same old, same old. He'll wake up, prepare breakfast, see her off, talk to mama, clean, read scrolls, talk to mama some more, and more chores.

"Still afraid of the silence, huh?"

She'd nod, and they'd let the conversation sit between them. This would be the part when one of them confesses to the other.

"I think he just misses her."

"We all do, Sarada." He wasn't wrong. In the haze of the morning, she'd still sometimes to open the door and rush her into her routines, just so she won't be late, but her father bears a heavier cross.

She shakes her head, "I think he regrets it. Not saying that he loved her with words. before she…."

"Sakura knew," he replies without any hesitation.

"I don't think it matters that mama knew. I think he still aches about how she was always the one to say it for the both of them."

"That bastard was always a coward." She didn't approve of this, she still held a torch for the only man in her life, but he let him continue.

"He's terrified that if he said it out loud, she'll be taken away from him too." Like his parents, his brother, everyone he ever loved.

"Now, she's still gone, and he's missed his chance," she finishes for him.

The blonde nods. There was a beat before the blonde was Hokage-sama again and briefs you on your short mission.

"Papa, I'm home!"

"Hn. Welcome back. Dinner's ready so go wash up."

She indulges him like this, talking about her day, asking questions so he doesn't feel the weight of the looming fact that it's just the two of them now, devoid of doting, nagging pinks and red in their life.

The conversations grew thin, and words were few and far now when she finds her courage, disliking the stillness.

"Papa, what did you love most about mama?"

He hummed and she knows he's reminiscing. It's so easy to fall into it,

"Sakura…" He lets mama's name slip from his lips, so gently and nostalgic.

"She gave me the reason to continue living."

He looked at her then and saw the tremendous love and affection he had for her. How even before she knew what it meant, she knew they were connected because of her. She recognizes why mama never needed words, never asked for it when papa's feelings are tangible enough to touch.

Cross posted on my AO3 here

[allofasudden00]

Papa Bear

“C’mon Papi! Mami is waiting!” Mirabel pulled on his leg with all the strength a five-year-old could muster. Agustin smiles down at her and chuckles. Her chubby face is scrunched up in frustration. They had just finished a playdate with one of Mirabel’s friends, but now they are on their way to meet up with Julieta at her stand. It is an absolute joy to see Mirabel excited to see her mother, even though she sees her all day, every day. She truly is a carbon copy of Julieta. 

“Ay, Mira, she knows we’re coming. There is no need to rush.” He chuckles again and pats her head. Her frustration quickly leaves, and she giggles to herself. He loves that about Mirabel, how happy she is. He never wants to see her sad ever again, not after what happened at her gift ceremony. It has been a week since the event and he is happy she’s back to being a normal five-year-old. There have been no tears the past couple of days and it has made both him and Julieta sigh in relief. Their daughter shouldn’t have been sad about not receiving a gift, but she was, and they needed to comfort her.   

“There she is. You know, I cannot help but feel sorry for them.” 

Agustin slows his pace of his walking when he hears the almost hush voice. He looks out the corner of his eye and sees two men, Ramon and Marco, talking and pointing at him and Mirabel. 

“I know, poor girl. Imagine finding out that you’re not as special as the rest of your family?” 

Agustin feels a wave of heat course through his chest as his jaw clenches. He stops walking, much to Mirabel’s surprise. He exhales deeply and smiles down at her. He kneels down and bops her nose with his finger, causing her to giggle. 

“Go on without me. Mama is just up ahead. I need to talk to someone.” Agustin smiles when Mirabel nods excitedly and runs off toward the direction of her mother. Agustin stands up, straightening his vest and rolling up his sleeves slightly. Turning around, he locks eyes with the two gentlemen who he heard talking. He hurries over to them and greets them with a smile. They stop talking when they notice him walking over.

“Oh, Hola Gus! How are you doing?” Ramon asks, his eyes glancing at Marco next to him. Agustin feels a surge of confidence when noticing how nervous they are. 

“I’m not doing too good, actually.” Agustin answers. He crosses his arms and shakes his head with a frown. 

“Why not?” Marco asks. 

“Oh, thank you for asking!” Agustin answers quickly. “I was just out walking with Mirabel, and she’s all happy and excited to see her mama. Now- if you can- imagine my surprise- no, my disgust- when I hear two fully grown men talking about her. Talking about a five-year-old and saying that they feel sorry for her and that she isn’t special like the rest of her family.” It takes all of his willpower to pull a smile onto his lips and keep his voice calm. The color seems to drain from Ramon’s and Marco’s faces. 

“G-Gus, I’m sure what you heard was taking out of context and- and... we-” 

“We- We totally weren’t saying anything like that-”

“Oh really? Please enlighten me. Give me the context.” Agustin asks, interrupting the stuttering men. They look at each other, completely at a loss for words. “And please don’t insult my intelligence and keep the lies to a minimum.” Agustin states, his patients thinning every second. Ramon sighs and puts his hands up. 

“Look, Gus, we didn’t know you could hear us.” He starts. Agustin hums for him to continue. Ramon swallows harshly. “And- and we were talking about how unfortunate it was that Mirabel didn’t get a gift...” Marco nods his head, a hopeful smile tugging on his lips.

“Yeah, and we were sorry for her that the Miracle didn’t find her special enough to-” 

 Marco is silenced by Agustin’s fist hitting him across the right side of the face. He falls onto his rear, clutching his jaw and looking completely shell-shocked. Ramon whips his head toward Agustin and sees a fire blazing behind the tall man’s glasses. Without thinking, Ramon instinctively punches toward Agustin in defense. His fist connects with Agustin’s nose and he knocks his glasses off and onto the ground. Ramon looks in horror as his action seems to have made the mustached man more furious. Before he could apologize, Agustin bares his teeth and charges forward. Ramon dodges Agustin’s right hook, but as he dodges, he lines himself up perfectly for the left that was quickly following. 

Agustin’s fist slams into Ramon’s temple, and he crumples to the ground. Agustin heaves loudly above them, his eyes darting around in a manic, adrenaline filled rage. Marco tries to get up and run, but Agustin slaps him across the face, causing him to lose his footing and fall down again. 

“Don’t you ever say those words about her again or I swear to God it will be the last thing you’ll ever say.” Agustin points a finger at both of them. “If she would’ve heard you! A child hearing two grown men say the Miracle didn’t find her special, you know what that would do to her?!” Agustin grabs Ramon by the collar and yanks the man to his feet with a surprising amount of strength. “I never want you two near my family. I don’t give a damn what Alma thinks. You are never to look at my kids or my wife, never to speak to them. I don’t want their names to even slip past your lips. You understand me?” Marco and Ramon both nod frantically. Agustin lets Ramon go and both men scrabble to run away. Agustin stands there, trying to calm his breathing as the adrenaline dies down and he feels the pain enter his body. 

“Gus?! What happened?” 

“Papi!” 

Agustin turns around and suddenly his breath leaves his lungs as Mirabel collides with his stomach. He looks down and sees that she is crying as she hugs him. He looks up and sees a very blurry Julieta rushing over to him. He suddenly feels immense guilt rise in his chest. 

“What did they do to you?” Julieta asks as she examines his face. He hisses in pain as she touches his nose and grabs his hands. “I don’t think you broke any fingers, but you have some bruising. What happened?” 

“They said the Miracle didn’t think Mirabel was special and that they were sorry for her.” Agustin whispers into his wife’s ear. Though he cannot see her face, he can tell that she is clenching her jaw angrily. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let that happen. What if she heard them?” 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Julieta mockingly scolds him. She leans in and whispers. “You did the right thing, amor,” she kisses him on the cheek and he smiles. He feels a gentle tug on his arm. He looks down and sees Mirabel holding up his glasses. 

“Here are your eyes, Papi.” Mirabel says, standing on her tippy toes so he can take the glasses from her. He smiles and takes them. Putting them on, he can see the worried expression on her face. He picks her up, ignoring the pain in his hands and peppers her face with kisses. Mirabel giggles as she tries to escape the onslaught of affection. 

“Come on, let’s get Papi home.” Julieta grabs Agustin’s hand and they walk back toward Casita. 

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

Would this happen in canon? Probably not. But in MY world Agustin “I was thinking about my daughter” Rojas would definitely beat someone’s ass for talking smack about his girls. Take a post from my drafts!

[herecomesaspecialghoul]

『 𝙰 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈 𝙳𝙴𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙿𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴 』 .    

repost   with   the   information   of   your   muse   ,   including   headcanons   ,   etc.   if   you   fail   to   achieve   some   of   the   facts   ,   add   some   other   of   your   own   !

NAME. As a Nameless Ghoul, he has no true name. However, he has several nicknames, including “Special” and “Phil.”

AGE. As a Nameless Ghoul, he was not born and does not age. However, he emerged from Hell in 1960, so he assumes he is 63.

SPECIES. Nameless Ghoul

GENDER. As a Nameless Ghoul, he has no sex or gender. However, he is a pretty savvy ghoul compared to others. He is still not sure of his identity. For the past thirty or so years, he has identified as “a male guy man” (his words) and mostly uses he/him.

ORIENTATION. As a Nameless Ghoul, he was not constructed to feel sexual attraction. However... "I dunno! I am happily in a relationship with a man, but, y’know, all you humans are so cute and wonderful, too! I guess I like everyone?” (He’s only sleeping with his boyfriend though. Sorry, folks.)

INTERESTS. Music- primarily rare vinyls and weird niche genres, Movies- primarily horror, and as of late, the poetry of TS Eliot and Walt Whitman ( “I’m tryna better myself, and smart people read poetry, right?”)

PROFESSION. "Mostly, I coach the ghouls in the band on how to look and act human. I dunno if that counts as, uhhh, an actual ‘profession,’ ehehehehehhh...”

BODY TYPE. Depends on his form. As a Nameless Ghoul, he is tall and almost imposing, impossibly strong despite there being no visible muscle on his body. In his human disguise, he appears to slouch, and is quite thin. “I keep getting called ‘scrawny’ and I don’t know if that is a good thing?”

EYES. Depends on his form. As a Nameless Ghoul, his eyes are solid black- no iris or sclera or pupil, and no light reflects on their surface. In his human disguise, they are a dazzling, fiery green.

HAIR. Depends on his form. As a Nameless Ghoul, his hair appears short and dark- and it is actually very fine feathers. In his human disguise, it’s still short, but actual hair, dark brown and appears to be spiked or mussed with gel.

SKIN. Dep- you know. As a Ghoul, his skin is a dark, dull grey. If one were to look very closely, it would appear to be scaly. As a human, it’s very pale.

FACE. His ghoul face is a stony mask-like feature colloquially called a “face plate.” It really only has his eyes and nose. The space from his nose to his chin is an empty expanse. His long, black, antelope-like horns appear to emerge from just above where his carved eyebrows rest and go up, curving slightly over his head. His human face is lean, with defined cheekbones and round chin. His nose appears to have been broken and healed wrong. His eyebrows are a bit thin, but noticeable. His forehead bears a few wrinkles, as do the spaces just under his eyes. When he smiles or laughs, he gets those ‘laugh lines’ on the outer edges of his eyes. He has thin, pale pink lips, and has “perfectly imperfect” teeth with very sharp canines.

HEIGHT. 5′8". As a Ghoul, if you were to include his horns, he is just under seven feet tall. In his human form, bereft of horns, he is a sturdy 5′8″.

COMPANIONS. Papa Emeritus the Fourth and the Nameless Ghouls who make up the Satanic band known as Ghost.

ANTAGONISTS. "I try to get along with everyone, but nazi punks can fuck right off! Music is INCLUSIVE, damn it!”

COLORS. Red, Black, Blue, neons.

FRUITS. Doesn't have a throat or stomach.

DRINKS. Doesn’t have a throat or stomach.

ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES ? Doesn’t have a throat or stomach.

SMOKES ? He taught himself how to shapeshift something of a rudimentary throat and lung inside his body in order to smoke catnip. He captures the smoke in his ‘lung,’ then closes the lung, forcing the smoke to infuse with his weird ghoul body. Catnip has an affect on him that is akin to marijuana in humans.

DRUGS ? Catnip. He has cut back a lot, though.

DRIVERS LICENSE ? No.

[dreaminlittlenightmares]

Writing prompt! We know how the Eyes like to punish the Thin Man when they're angry with him but what would happen if they got mad at little Mono? It's up to the Thin Man to save him before it's too late! Bonus if other characters are somehow included in the rescue.

Papa bear mode activated!

Title: Pink Room Word Count: 1826 Characters: the Thin Man, Mono, the Lady, the Flesh Eyes

"So, that's where I am," the Lady said, concluding her story, "The children don't like me, and I don't like them. But, at least we've stopping trying to kill each other." The Thin Man rested his chin in his palm and gave her a warm, goofy smile. The second she saw it and how to kept stretching across his thin, bony face, she gritted her teeth behind her mask. "Stop that..." The Thin Man snickered. "You know, when I said to try to get along with Six and Seven, I wasn't expecting you to actually do it." The Lady rolled her eyes. "That's because you're starting to rub off on me." She got up from the table and headed over to her liquor cabinet.

"Oh God, I hope not!" the Thin Man laughed, "I don't think both of us need to be an unhinged ball of chaotic energy, who thrives on the misery of others."

"A shame you won't allow me to enjoy such things." The Lady walked back and handed him a glass of whiskey. "Though, I suppose between you and North Wind, there's already enough chaos in the world."

The Thin Man took the glass and hummed. His trip to the Maw wasn't suppose to be a long one. He left Mono back at the Tower unattended, and often felt bad ditching the youngster. He swallowed the liquor, enjoying the sweet and spiciness on his tongue. He looked at the remnants of the brown liquor in his cup and paused.

Suddenly, he slammed the glass into the table angrily, shattering it on impact.

The Lady looked at him, then to the broken crystals that glistened in the light. "Thank you," she said sarcastically, "I've always wanted to destroy pristine crystalline glasses from the west, just to remind myself how much I spent for them. Did you cut you hand?"

The Thin Man delayed his answer. "...I'm really angry all of a sudden." He looked at his hand. There were specs of crystal dust on his palm, but no blood.

"All of sudden?" The Lady carefully took the Thin Man's hand to inspect the damage.

"Yeah," the Thin Man sighed, "Like I want to kill something level of angry. This has never happened before."

"Well, then-"

"No dear," the Thin Man interrupted, "I've never actually been this angry with you. This is..." He shook his head. "I'm gonna...go now. Something's off. I wanna just check things for a sec." The Lady nodded. It wasn't like him to have an outburst like this; so, whatever was going on, she believe it wasn't his doing. The pair headed back to the tv in the Residency when a flash of light and a screeching buzzing sound roared from it. Mono flung out of the tv, shaking and panting.

"Mono?" the Lady asked quickly.

"What are you doing here?" the Thin Man added, blushing slightly. The kid knew that they were a thing, but it was still embarrassing to be seen like this.

"WHERE ARE YOU, BOY!?" a voice bellowed from behind the screen. Mono squeaked and dashed towards the Thin Man, and cowered behind his pants leg. The Thin Man scooped up Mono quickly and handed him to the Lady. She hid the young boy in her long sleeves. "WHERE ARE YOU!!" An eye appeared on the screen, looking wild and furious.

The Thin Man walked over to the tv calmly. "I'm right here," he answered, "what happened?"

"Where is the kid?" the Eye demanded.

"Not here," the Thin Man lied smoothly. He leaned in to block the Eye from looking around.

"Rubbish! We saw him go through this screen!"

"This screen is well out of the kid's reach," the Thin Man said, "Even with his powers, he wouldn't be able to come through here. Why? What did he do?" The Thin Man didn't get an answer. The Eye huffed and retreated away bitterly. The Thin Man pulled away from the screen and turned off the television. Then, he swiveled on his heels back to face the Lady and Mono. "What did you do?"

“Nothing!” Mono flailed the Lady’s sleeves off of his head. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Kid, the only time those things are that angry is when I messed up hard. So, what in the world did you do?”

Mono stared directly into the Thin Man’s eyes. “I...I knocked over one of the lamps in a live room. T-the big one with the many bulbs. I’m sorry...”

The Thin Man crossed his arms. “Uh huh. How about the truth this time, kid.”

“Mono,” the Lady spoke up calmly, “You might as well tell Mr. Thin Man the truth. He’s not mad at you. He just wants to know what happened.”

The Lady's reassuring tone help the little boy calm down. He looked down at the floor in shame. "I don't know," he started, "Really, I don't! I went into a pink room and they yelled at me. So, I ran for it. I don't know what I did! I'm sorry."

"A pink room?" The Thin Man gazed up at the ceiling. "I can only think of two pink rooms in the Tower. One is the Lady's room...which you shouldn't be in in the first place. And, the second would be the room with the chair; and you've been there before..." The Thin Man cocked his head to the side, running an quick, mental inventory of all the rooms in the Transmission Tower.

"The Eyes wouldn't be angry with Mono for entering my room," the Lady said, as she gently petted Mono on the head.

"No, they wouldn't." The Thin Man looked back at Mono. "Was this pink room like the flesh walls, but pinker?"

"Uh, y-yes?"

"With more veins and kinda smooth?"

"...yes?"

"Ah, fu-" The Thin Man trailed off and turned away in disappointment. "Okay, let me go fix this." He placed his hand on the television screen.

"Why? What's the room?" Mono asked.

"I'll tell you when you're older."

"Thin," the Lady called out, "You might as well tell him what the room is now."

"True, but let me handle this first.” The Thin Man sighed. “It’s a room that I should have locked from you. But, with you reality warping powers, you probably would have gone in there anyways." The older man grumbled a cuss word to himself and shook his head. He looked back at Mono and the Lady. "Can he stay-?"

"Yes." The Lady answered before he could finish.

"Am I in trouble?" Mono whimpered.

"Oh kid, you're in a whole lot of trouble. I'm gonna go talk to them before they literally kill you." The Thin Man looked to the Lady. "I'll be fine. I can handle this."

The Lady stood up a little taller. "Don't make me come over there and put a hex on them." The Thin Man smiled wryly and looked back at Mono. The poor boy was practically peeing his pants. He'll be safer at the Maw, though, piss and all. The Thin Man turned back to the tv screen and slipped through to the other side. It didn't take long for the Eyes to rush in viciously.

"You're back!"

"Where is the boy!?"

"Hiding," the Thin Man answered stoically, "What did he do?" He needed to hear their perspective to better gauge on how to deal with Mono's curiosity.

The Eyes yelled all at once.

"He went into the Greeting Room!" "He went into the Simulation Room!" "It's the Absorption Room, you fools!" "No, it's the Greeting Room!" "Simulation Room!!" "Absorption Room!"

"The Pink Room," the Thin Man whispered, but it was enough to silence the Eyes.

"He's too young to be in there!"

"We were only trying to look out for the boy's best interest."

"He's not ready for that room..."

"I agree." The Thin Man tucked his hands in his pockets. The Pink Room was where Viewers were brought, after they have been sucked in by the Transmission. Most died, but others became another Eye to join the consciousness of the Tower. The room was traumatic and disorientating to anyone who entered it. Mono wasn't ready to be formally introduced to that secret.

"You can't punish him," the Thin Man continued, "not like that. Not like how you do with me. He's too young."

"A punishment anyways," one Eye countered, "He does not get off scot-free."

"He's nine!" the Thin Man argued, "Ten, maybe! Either way, he's a child and gets into stuff. You can't kill him for this."

"So, the boy gets away with this?"

"I didn't say that. You can punish him, but not with that."

"YOU think we'd listen to you!?" A sharp, welting pain cut across the Thin Man's cheeks. He knew this pain, and refused to buckle from it.

"I said 'no'." He waved his hand across the air in front of him, sending out a rippling wave of his power at the Eyes. "You want Mono, you're going to have to kill me first."

"Insolence!" The Thin Man prepared himself for their wrath. He'll fight them, all of them, even if that meant confiding himself to this dreadful place to keep Mono safe. But, before the searing wet pains cut into him again, a deep, booming voice roared from the darkness.

"Enough."

The Eyes vanished, but one gigantic one remained. The Thin Man glared at it fearlessly and in relief. This was the Eye he was hoping to speak with immediately.

The Eye looked at the frail old man lazily. "It's clear that if anything happens to little Mono, you'll throw as much as a fit as if we were to do anything to that woman of yours."

"...Yes." The Thin Man didn't mix his words.

"You're putting too much effort protecting your younger self," the Eye grumbled.

"I'm just trying to give little me a better life than I had."

The Eye watched the Thin Man carefully. "A punishment," it said, "more than a slap on the wrist, but much less than if we dealt with this." There was no compromise in its authoritative voice.

"Fine," the Thin Man nodded, "Tomorrow, then. Half the punishment is already done. The kid knows he's in trouble, and the anticipation of facing the consequences is already eating at him. I'll handle this when he comes back."

"Fine." The Eye looked surprised. "You're more twisted than we expected. Poor boy. Don't go back on this." The Eye vanished back into the darkness.

The Thin Man hung his head in relief. That went easier than he thought. He'll have to deal with Mono accordingly, but first, the Pink Room. It needed to be locked away and kept from the lad. There will be a time that Mono will have to greet a withered, humanoid mass of flesh when he eventually becomes the next Broadcaster. But for now, it'll be closed to him so they won't have to go through this again.

[mythboundmuses-archive]

@unheardmuses sent: “I missed… god, I missed you.” [ hopper @ el 🥺]

It's been so long since she's seen Hopper. The last time was... She can't bear to think about it. She thought he was dead, all this time, and while she's not exactly sure where he's been, one look at the state of him knows he's been nowhere good. Briefly, she wonders if Joyce has filled him in on everything that's happened, if he knows that she returned to Papa and his experiments for a while, but resolves to keep her mouth shut. He already looks so weak, a strange sight for a man she's used to being so strong, and she doesn't want to upset him. She throws her arms around him and pulls him into a tight hug. Her arms reach all the way around him now, both because she has grown and because he has lost weight. He's worryingly thin, and she pulls back, her brows pinched. "I missed you too," she says softly, studying him with a frown. "Are you... okay? I thought - I thought you were dead."

[cutepastelstarsalior]

Alter/voices in my head info

Vanya/white violin comic version

LOVE slipnot and korn

He/she lesbian

Miss klaus/ 4/Séance, consider them twins

Has telekinesis and use her powers to float or to make instruments play. Eyes turn pure white when powers are use

Gets extremely hyper and aggressive when listening to loud music

Use her powers to imagine killing people

Love to sing and use her telekinesis to play a one man song

Early 20s

Punk/caual aesthetic (camo cargo pants and white tang top)

“Front”/appears when hearing Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit

Calls jester/ruin a “clown fucker”

Has sharp teeth, and bite people

Tries to get me to rage, to express myself, to be loud and angry In a positive/justifiable way. Thinks to be strong is to fight back. Also tries to teach me to dance inside the head

Her domain is an old rundown theater that has graffiti surrounding it. In the center wall of the stage is an orange scenery of a tree and field in the sunset.

Apparently brought V/virgil out of hiding just by screaming the lyrics of not a vampire and also I’m not ok while going down the (inner) hallway where the less active voices live.

The one one that I can visualize the best out of

Luciano/Luci

A weird mix of an Italian mafia and an American cowboy??????

Bisexual he/him

Fat and had a red scrufffy beard, a cowboy hat, and a red plaid shirt, tan and has freckles.

Bluish-green eyes.

Calls Elizabeth “miss Elizabeth” or “miss Lizzy”

Tries to get me motivated and to take care of my body? Was weirdly base off those “alpha grind workouts motivation” videos.

Himbo golden retriever boy

Unknown age

Calls my dad “pa/pop” and my mom “ma”

The only one with an accent/can clearly hear his voice better then the others

Elizabeth

The inner caregiver

Long light brown hair, thin, green eyes and a green bow.

Call me and other honey or sweetheart

Bee and I’s mama

Likes to pick on Caleb sometimes

Unknown age

Smells like honey or tea

Likes to hum and sing

Soft and kind.

I think one of the early voices I heard? Or one that I remember hearing from my teenage years.

Caleb

Time management/helper

Talks and appears to me a lot :)

calls me “little one” sometimes

A very nice dad/big brother figure

Like coffe and read and just want to spend the day reading and relaxing by a fire with a hot drink

Has black short hair, orange eyes, sometimes black reading glasses, recently gain pale white and purple wings

Wear an overcoat and business casual.

Gets annoyed /stressed out a lot by the others.

Hates jester/ruin

Hated my dad call him “father”

Use proper tiles for family (grandmother instead of Grammy)

Bee

A kid

Age ranges from toddler to 10 year old

Blue hair and eyes

Like bears

Likes candy and sweet food

Call’s Elizabeth “mama” and Caleb “papa”

Doesn’t come out that much, but like to play and to watch cartoons

A sweet boy

Hard to tell if it’s me age regression or when is bee is taking

Jester/ruin

Calls me “starlight”

The one that came up with the rules “spin around when you’re in trouble. 2 and 4 are safe numbers”

Base of TSAMS eclipse

Is here to help find his and mine purpose in life.

Get angry/irritated when I DONT fallow the rules

Didn’t like vanya or Caleb

Theme song is under my skin by jukebox the ghost

Sometimes when he speak it sounds like him, sometimes it warps. Most active when I need to “not be contaminated”

Others voices (only made 1-2 appearances)

jack o moon (tsams)

Bloodmoon (tsams)

Killcode/casey (tsams)

Angel (a form of black tar and multiple eyes)

V/virgil (sanders sides)

A god name Leo

Aroua (davesprit + ardia person who is a follower of Leo)

[tillerman1]

AUTUMN SONATA (word) pt.4

14

EVA: For you was me a doll, which you played with when you had time. If I got ill or troublesome left you me till the nanny or till pappa. You closed in you and worked and then received none disturb. I stood outside the door and listened. When you took your coffee pause, dared me slip in till you for that see after about you in all fall existed. You were kindly but absent. About me ask you about any received I hardly reply. I sat on the floor and watched away you, you each large and beautiful, space was starved and airy, the awnings each pulled down, outside blew it in the leaf masses, all each wrapped in a fantastic green shimmer. Sometimes might I row you out on the bay, you had a long white low-cut summer dress which displayed your breasts which were so beautiful, you were barefoot and had braided hair in a thick braid, you thought about to look down into the water, it was clear and cold, you could see the large stones there long low at bottom, plants and fishermen, your hair became wet and your hands became wet. [sic] Because you invariably were so delicious, wanted me also be nice. I became pedantically precise with my clothing. Always anxious that you not would like about my look, I thought why that I was so ugly, meager and angular cum great cow-eyes cum big ugly lips and no eyebrows cum eyelashes, the arms were just for long, cum the feet was for large cum the toes just for flat and - no I thought that I looked almost disgusting outward. [sic?]{FILM:I always worried that you didn't like the way I looked. I was so ugly, lean and angular with big cow's eyes, big wide lips and no eyebrows.

My arms were too thin and my feet too big. I thought O looked repulsive.} But you displayed nearly never that you were worried for my appearance, one time said you: I think you should become lad and then laughed you for that me not would become sad. But it became me understood. I cried a week in secret, as you detested tears - others tears. Then suddenly one day stood your suitcases below the stairs cum you spoke on the telephone in extraneous language, I went in of the nursery and begged till God that something would occur which prevented your travel, grandmother would die or so would car earthquake or all flights would get motor jam, but you traveled always, the doors stood open cum it blew by some house cum all spoke in the mouth to each other and so came you forward till me and embraced and kissed me and hugged me and kissed me again and looked at me and smiled at me and you smelled good and foreign cum yourself where you also alien, you were already away road, you looked me not, I thought now stops the heart, now die me, so evil make it, I'm becoming ne'er more glad, it has only gone five minutes, how shall I bear to have such pain for two months and so cry me in papa's knee and papa sat right immobile with his small soft hand on my head, he sat how long as preferably and smoked his old pipe, he surrounded us with smoke, occasionally told it something: Should we go to the pictures tonight or today thinks I how one would taste with ice cream till dinner(.)[?] Yet I bothered myself neither about ice cream nor cinema because I held on to decease.

So went the days and the weeks, father and I shared loneliness real good, we had you not much to tell each other, but it was such calm with him and never that I interfered him, occasionally looked he some concerned outward, I knew not that he had permanent economic difficulty but always when I come clinging wanted it up and then conversed us one while or also patted he me only with his small pale hand or also sat it on the leather sofa with uncle Otto and drink cognac cum both two muttered quietly with each other, I wonder if they heard what they said, or also was uncle Harry there and played chess and then where it as well as extra silent, where heard man three different clocks tick in some house. [Disheartening?] Many days before you would arrive place had I'm temperature at arousal, simultaneously becoming self anxious that I would become sick for real because I knew that you were afraid of sick people. [Informal?] And then when you arrive could I almost not bear my luck and nothing could I say either, so sometimes became you somewhat impatient and said: Eva is determined not particularly glad over how have got her mom home again. Then I became fiery red in the face and right sweaty yet could not say anything, as I none had any words because you had taken care of all order home with us. I loved you, so was enough for life and death, I believe in all fall this, but I discredited your word. I understood instinctively that you nearly never meant what you said. [neutral] You have such fair voice mother, when I was small felt this in all the body, when you spoke till me and often became you annoyed at me, for that I not had heard what you told till me. It was on to self listened till your voice, but it was also on, that I none realized what you said. I understood didn't your words, they tallied not with some expression in your eyes or your tone. The horrible was that you log near thou were evil. As you hated father called you him "my dearest friend," when you were tired of me said you "beloved little young girl." Nothing true.

Tarry presently mother, I must get speak completed, I'm vet that I am somewhat intoxicated only if I none had drunk would I never have said what I have said. Then, when I'm dropping courage and not dare say more or fall silent, because that I'm ashamed for what I'm saying, when can you speak and explain, I shall listen and understand, precise as I ever hast listened and understood. Despite all went it well to be your little barn. There was nothing wrong with how I loved you. You tolerated me then there pretty, as you had your travels. But there is something I ne'er have understood cum it is your relationship till Pappa, I have thought so much about you both the latest time, but your cohabitation is a riddle. [Informative?] Sometimes think I that you were entirely dependent on dad, despite that he was so much weaker than you, in some way showed you one regard towards him, that you never showed towards myself and Helena. You ashamed away Daddy, thou spake about him as were he of grander matter. Still was poor dad only one small mediocrity, kind and modest and inoffensive. How far I understood paid thou dad's liabilities on several occasions. Was that not so?

CHARLOTTE: Yes.

EVA: I think how dad had tiny events, I remember in all fall least three foreign ladies that came home till us and sat in some living room, as you were out on journeys. One of them named sure Maria van Eyck and was your pupil?

CHARLOTTE: Papa had a relationship with Maria. Pretty short and pretty modest.

EVA: Cared you thee not about it there the histories?

CHARLOTTE: No, I could indeed not become evil on papa for his small stories. Further did he god taste. You said that papa was a mediocrity. That is one both cruel and unfair judiciously, that presents that you none knew your Father. Under other considerations had Josef was one of Europe's great architects, but he each just for considerate and just for decent. [neutral?] He received bear fro for his older brother, who not was half as talented and it was an accident that they inherited your grandfather's company commonly. Josef wanted ne'er put till quarrel or assert his opinion. But he had great ideas, he designed till example one concerto house till Copenhagen or was it Oslo, no, it was probably Lyon actually, and all [sic] were agreed about that it was one of the prettiest buildings as created under the thirties, then came the war cum the project expired. Hapless Josef he was unlucky with all he undertook himself. He was videlicet one REAL big man and not whatsoever any mediocrity. You see so skeptical out, Eva. You believe me not?

EVA: What has it for importance? Your words regarding unto your reality, my words valid in mine. Switches we word, are they useless.

15

CHARLOTTE: You spoke before of my self-deception. I think not you have right. I tell lies never for us myself. The actual relationship was quite scary: I had evil in the back, could not practice properly, my concerts became poor, I lost important commitment. I begin the opine that my life was meaningless. Simultaneously had I badly conscience for you and Josef. I thought it was idiotic to drag me around from City to City, scolded cum ashamed, when I instead could be home at you. You smile ironically. I'm trying speaking truthfulness, self tells only about how I thought, then care self us none about what you think. But one time can you this here be said, then talking we never more about the thing.

EVA: I'm trying (to) understand.

CHARLOTTE: I was in Hamburg, self game Beethoven's one, on is not particularly difficult cum all had gone great. After went I and old Schmiess, you know the conductor - he is dead now, to a local cum at something good, this cultivated we always do. When we dined and drank real long cum self was pleased and relaxed and back pain almost not felt so said Schmiess: Why stays you not home at man cum barn and live a respectable life in lieu for how set you for permanent humiliations? I stared at him and then laughed I'm. Thought you I played so poor unto tonight? No, that thought me not, said he and log (smiled). But I can not let go to think about the eighteenth August 1934. Then were you twenty years and we played Beethoven's one coupled in Linz, will you remember that evening, it was thirty-five gradations warm, the hall was packed, we played like gods, it burned in the orchestra, for the concert went them folk and screamed and stomped and the orchestra gave touche. You had a red right simple summer dress and long hair even till the waist. You were cheerful and unmoved, for your part could we have played the concert five times till same evening, it had been equally funny. ["]Where recall you all that there?["] asked me. I have it written up in my score, Schmiess said. I usually record my great experience.When I comma till the hotel, could I not sleep. [assertive?] At three in the morning called me home till Josef and recounted that I had decided myself: I would stop about the travel, I would stay home with him and you, we would become a correct family. Josef became awful glad. We cried with emotion either two, we spoke for almost two hours. So was that with on the sake. Something deceiving was it in all fall not. Maybe a childish attitude about that life could cause merciful outside roads also for Charlotte Andergast. It was naturally dumb. For a monthly understood I that I was a horrible charge for you and papa, that I longed off home.

After some years calmed I'm me, began grant lessons, spent myself at you cum your upbringing, participated in papa's worries. For the summers dwelled us in a small house out in the archipelago - that recall you well. (Eva nods, smiles without to smile) We were pretty happy, think me. Or was we not it? Thou was not happy?

EVA: (shaking on head) No, I was not happy.

CHARLOTTE: (sighs) You said that you never had it so good.

EVA: I wanted none score you disappoint.

CHARLOTTE: Where see you how it is. (laughing) What did me for error?

EVA: You did none somewhat wrong! As invariably was you magnificent. For us were you horrible. I was fourteen years and of deficiency in better reversed you whole your pent-up energy against me. You had given thee fan away that you had neglected me cum now would you take back the neglect. I defended myself so well I could but had no one opportunity. Till all other loved self you and was entire time utter certain about to you had right and that I was wrong. Vet you what you did? You remarked ne'er on-line, you used rewrites. But every hour of the day come you with your smiles, your small joke, your tender consideration or easy concerned tone. There existed not one detail that none was subject for your loving energy. I was round-shouldered, as I'm grown for quick. You put in motion with gymnastics, naturally did us exercises together, under reference till your proper poor spine. I had pimples, I each you of puberty, where existed immediate a dermatologist who each god friend to the family, he prescribed ointments and tinctures which I must ill of and which did some skin yet redder. You thought that I was also much trouble with my long hair, which you regarded that I mishandled, therefore shortcut you me, it was horrible, I thought I looked grotesque outward. Then the worst of all, you got for you that my teeth had grown wrong cum you saw till that I received braces, I looked not wise outward. You stated for me to I was ample girl and to me not would go in trousers and vest without on dresses that you let sew or stitched yourself without to ask what I thought cum I could not say no, because I none would make you sad. [neutral?] You gave me books to read that I none thought about, as they were just for sophisticated for my sense, I read and read and then would you and I discuss back what I had read.

[very strongly cautionary?] You explained and recounted, I understood not what you spoke about, was only cautious for that you one day would reveal me and my unbounded stupidity. [very strongly formal?] I became being lame, but one thing understood me plain and clearly: there existed not a millimeter of this which indeed was me, which could be loved or even accepted. You were as obsessed cum I became all rescuer, increasingly destroyed. I knew no longer who I was, as I at every moment would care you till law. I became as a clumsy puppet which you those manage, I said what you desired, I did your gestures and movements for to you would like me, I dared not be self myself a single moment, not even when I was alone because I cool disliked that which was my own. It was horrifying, mamma, and I'm shaking still unto all the body when I speak about from those years. It was horrifying harm that would become worse. I understood you not that I hated you because I matter utterly convinced again that we loved each other, cum that you knew everything (the) best. So could I not hate you as hatred became till one insane anxiety. [very intensely informative?] I had a horrible dream, I bet upon nails and pulled great tussles from some hair, I sought cry yet could not - received not forward a sound, I tried shriek - it became merely till suffocate cruelty which intimidated me yet more. One day took thou me in the embrace, sat you beside me on the sofa cum wept lite cum said to you was concerned for my development and that we would speak with a mild doctor about my situation. I understood that you intrinsically meant that I held on to become insane - I felt a sort's melancholy satisfaction before that opportunity. So come me then to a psychiatrist, one old tired uncle at white coat which entire time while we spoke with each other trim a large paper-knife in its mist abdomen.

He began inquiry me about my sexual living yet because I none knew what he spoke about - I had not even had my first menstruation - as became I forced to find with one cum another. I believe he got middling surprised over my sophisticated taste cum my perverted fantasy. Or also seen across he myself and wanted not wound me. He was kind and well-meaning and said that I should think away that my mama loved me and wanted my best however it knew me why already.

CHARLOTTE: Cum so traveled me my way with Martin. So have you never understood?

EVA: I have never intended those words.

CHARLOTTE: But you thought that I deceived.

EVA: Yes.

CHARLOTTE: Have you never any - (bounds herself. pause)Eva quiets. Charlotte quiets.

EVA: Recall you[,] Stefan?

CHARLOTTE: Certainly recall I[,] Stefan! You had never coped yourself with a barn!

EVA: Mamma! I was eighteen years. Stefan was grown, we held of each other, we had managed us -

CHARLOTTE: You had never managed yourself.

EVA: We had managed ourselves, WE WANTED HAVE CHILD, but you, you destroyed our relationship.

CHARLOTTE: That is not true. The is take us fan don't sincerely. I said contrariwise till father, that we must embrace consideration, how we should wait. Understood you not that your Stefan was a fool, a semi-criminal little punk, who all the time cheated you.

EVA: (with hatred) [neutral with very strong intensity] You hated him from first the instant, as you saw that I loved him, that I held on to glide from you, you did everything you could for that wreck our relationship. Simultaneously what you played understanding and trustful.

CHARLOTTE: And baby.

EVA: Stefan became entirely changed when he might out unto that I was with barn.

CHARLOTTE: Your Stefan drank her full, borrowed my car, drove on in the dike cum became indicted for drink-driving, SO was his reaction to your pregnancy.

EVA: (furious) Think you that you know everything? Were you present at Stefans and my deliberation, low you under the bed when we were together, vet you over header what you speak on? Have you ever bothered yourself whether to take out for one another human's thoughts and emotions? Care thou yourself over header taken about any other organic being than you itself?

CHARLOTTE: I have heard the there accusations (a) few times.

EVA: Stefan was not like others(,)[;] he was only much better and far more honest.

CHARLOTTE: It was well because he stole that there small Rembrandt etching and pawned it, it was well because he lied (for)[sic] you about his childhood and upbringing and their tragic family circumstances, it was well because he broke himself in of our country cottage, together with their fine friends and drank up the spirits and they swine down.

EVA: All it there happened AFTERWARDS. Have you forgotten that? [Neutral with very strong intensity] Having you lost that you succeeded have me placed away psychiatric clinic after the abortion and that you police-reported Stefan, near he took it in of the villa for that few talk to you.

CHARLOTTE: If you indeed had wanted you one barn had self never could impose you till abort.

EVA: And what had me to insert opposite? You had brainwashed me from childhood(,)[;] I had always complied with your will(,)[;] I was cautious and uncertain and had needed help and aid.

CHARLOTTE: (anxious) I THOUGHT why how I helped you. I was convinced supposing that abortion was the only solution. I have been convinced about on matter adjacent this while. It is horrible to you gone and carried on this hatred in all annum. Why have you never said any?

EVA: Therefore that you never tuned. Because how you are a notorious escapist, because how you are emotionally invalidated, because how you intrinsically hate us and Helena, because how you are helplessly trapped in you oneself, because how you always are you oneself on the road, because how you have carried me in your cold womb and bumped out me with disgust, because how I beloved you, because how you thought I was disgusting and failed and untalented. [sic] [Neutral with very strong intensity] And you succeeded damage me for life precisely as thou oneself are injured, the all that which is sensitive and delicate gave you thyself to, the all living you came at attempted you suffocate. Thou talking about my hatred. Your hatred was not less. YOUR HATRED WAS NOT LESS. I was small and moldable and loving. You band me, you possess the need of my love, precisely as you had lack from that all other people also shall love you. I'm each unprotected helpless. All happened right in love's name, thou with all the time how you loved me and father and Helena. And you mastered the love's tone and gesture. People which you - People as you are fatal, you ought blocked in and neutralized. A mother and a daughter, that fearful combination of emotion cum confusion and destruction. All is possible cum everything happens in the love's and the care's name. [Assertive with very strong intensity] The mother's damage to inherited by the daughter, the mother's miscalculations shall the daughter apply, mother's accident shall become the daughter's accident, it is as if the umbilical string never became severed. The daughter's accident is the mother's triumph, daughter's pain is the mother's underhanded enjoyment.Helena wakes from Eva's voice. She becomes cautious, intonation and voice position intimidating her. She works herself up from the bed, takes herself over the lofty end cum drifts down to the floor, drags herself forward against the door on elbows and knees, falling on the side, is puffy and trembling.

EVA: We lived on your condition, on your greedy saturate favor. We thought that life would be in that way, a barn is always released, grasps not, is helpless, may not understand, vet not, nobody says anything, there is the dependence, humiliation and then the distance, the insurmountable wall, the children call, nobody responds, nobody comes, grasps you not?[sic]

CHARLOTTE: You have in your terrible hatred made yourself a picture of me, is it true? Think thou self away seriously that it is all the truth?Eva hides the countenance in mercy, shaking away the head.

CHARLOTTE: Coming you recall your grandmother. No, natural none, you were seven years when she died. Grandfather recalls thou better, I believe till and with to you cum he had pretty good co

EVA: I was afraid for Grandma(,)[;] she was thus overwhelming both bodily and spiritually. Grandfather was mild.

CHARLOTTE: Yes. Thus was it for you.

EVA: But not for you.

CHARLOTTE: No, that can man hardly say. Mother and father were prominent mathematicians(,)[;] they were obsessed with its culture and with each other. It was dominant, credulous cum good-natured. We children regarded them with astonished benevolence, only without heat or actual interest. I may not remember that any of them ever concerned over me or my brothers, be it with caress or punishment. At themselves agency was I full ignorant about all, which had of love to do: tenderness, contact, vicinity, warmth. It was only through the music that I received the possibility to show my feelings. Sometimes when I lie awake in the nights wonder I if I over head taken have lived. [sic] What the perfect life you live, Mrs. Andergast, says someone who would be friendly. Imagine that get making people so happy. [Neutral with very strong intensity] And I'm thinking: I'M ALIVE NOT, I HAVE NEVER BEEN BORN, I PRESSED OUT FROM MY MOTHER'S BODY, IT CLOSED ITSELF AND TURNED ITSELF IMMEDIATELY TO FATHER, I EXIST DON'T. Sometimes features me wonder whether it is of like manner for all people or whether some hast greater giftedness for to live than others. If some people never live, wanting only existence?

EVA: How long have you known all this here?

CHARLOTTE: For three years ago was I sick, it knew you maybe didn't, I received some sepsis and low two months in a hospital in Paris. Leonardo put in their concerts and stayed with me all the time. I held on to - yes, me each well nearest dying. Then took it right long time that - I had some sort's depression, or what man shall call it.

EVA: But mamma me had no idea.

CHARLOTTE: There existed no reason to worry you. Well, how which anyway began Leonardo and I speak with each other, as we had such unusually plentiful of time. That would tell, Leonardo spoke. I listened and sought for ken. It was rather difficult till that begin with. I may for all portion be animated, about it required. But themselves soul have I never bothered me if. (sighs) It was like lectures in first-grade cum I was not any expressly excellent disciple. For the most thought self that Leonardo spoke rubbish, while thought self that it was sweet to have him sitting on the bed edge. (smiles) He had an infinite forbearance. Fixed occasionally said he actually that I was a big dumb fool, and that he not could take how I could be a so pass decent musician. (pause) Till finished pocket I some sorts picture of me myself: I HAVE NEVER BEEN VIXEN, MY FACE AND MY BODY AGING, I'M GETTING ME MEMORIES AND EXPERIENCES, BUT INSIDE THOSE WHERE THE OBLIGATIONS IS I'M LIKE UNBORN. (pause) I recall no faces, not even my own. Sometimes tries I remember me[sic] mother's face, I recall it not - that is clear - I realize that she was large and dark and had blue eyes and big[sic] nose and rounded mouth and broad forehead, but I may not get the different pieces to agree, I see her not. [sic] In the same set is it impossible for me to remember your face or Helenas or Leonardos.[sic] (neutral with very strong intensity) I will remember that I bore you and your sister only I recall nothing of the deliveries more than that it did evil - but the pain, how it tasted, recalls me not. (paus) "Reality is an aptitude," said he, "the vast most people missing that aptitude cum it is perhaps lucky." Realize you what he said?

CHARLOTTE: It is indeed awkward.

EVA: Awkward?

CHARLOTTE: I have always been timid for you. (astonished)

EVA: That can I not understand.

CHARLOTTE: (placid surprise) I wanted enough to you might take hand about me, self wanted that you would amuse me in arms and comfort me.

EVA: I was seven a child.

CHARLOTTE: Has it any importance?

EVA: No.

CHARLOTTE: I saw that you loved me cum self would love you, but I could not because I was chary for your demands.

EVA: I had no requirement.

CHARLOTTE: I THOUGHT that you had requirements, which self none could fill. I knew myself awkwardly and invalidated. I wanted none being your mother(,)[;] I wished that you would know that I was as helpless as you, but are poor, are afraid.

EVA: Is that true?

CHARLOTTE: I hear me oneself tell such as I never said. Lies I, play I theatre, tells me true, I vet not, Eva. I vet not. I know me upset and confused. It is maybe Leonardo's death. Maybe Helena's disease. Maybe your horrible hatred. (anxious) Eva, matter kind to me! It allows such evil!

EVA: I vet that it allows evil.

CHARLOTTE: So sees you at me as there.

EVA: That shall I soon tell you.Helena has cum great trouble opened the door and taken herself out in the upper hallway; she has dragged herself up till the stairs, located prostrate in the dark, listening till the two women's deliberation.

CHARLOTTE: You shall say what you intend on.

EVA: I think of Helena and Leonardo.

CHARLOTTE: I understand not.

EVA: Not?

CHARLOTTE: They felt each other scarcely.

EVA: Mamma!

CHARLOTTE: We were together on Bornholm an Easter.

EVA: You traveled your road after three days.

CHARLOTTE: I recall that it rained. I think till and with that it snowed.

EVA: Mamma!

CHARLOTTE: I would play Bartok's first with Ansermet in Geneva. (pause) I was urgent about to arrive there on time. I would go through the concert of peace and tranquility with the old gentleman. So it can happen that I traveled earlier. It was right one horrible weather. (long pause) Leonardo was in poor humor. And you were not so cheerful thou either.

EVA: Mamma!

CHARLOTTE: I vet wouldn't why you would force me to get recall that where idiotic Easter. I understand why off your tone, how I should corrupt for something. You may apologise me but -

EVA: [freindly with very strong intensity; joyful with strong intensity] You and Leonardo came on Thursday(,)[;] we had a lovely night together(,)[;] we played and sang and drank wine and laughed and played some old game when we found through a closet. Helena was with us(,)[;] she was not unwell then(,)[;] she was glad and warm and happy. Leonardo was glad of her delight(,)[;] he talked and joked with her(,)[;] she became immediately enamored(,)[;] they sat together till long in on the night. Neighbor morning told Helena for me in maximum confidence that Leonardo had kissed her. [Neutral with very strong intensity] In the morning scored Leonardo and Helena one outing with the car, it was on Good Friday, it was mild and still, a correct spring day, that you have forgotten it, mum? When they came home from their outing[,] where they cheer (up) and tan, you sat on the telephone; you had telephoned all morning. When they came in of the tambourine cum Leonardo sat down Helena on a stool, interrupted thou your telephone call cum said: "Thank now Leonardo correct very for that him it was so kind to you." Helena laughed and said: "Mom speaking till me as were me eight years. Are so not concerning." Then said you with an entirely alternative tone: "It is nice that you none have lost your mind for comedy." Late continued you your telephone deliberation which about nothing had happened. Away the afternoon did Leonardo the forage up a book from his bag. It was a Mozart biography(,)[;] he read loudly for Helena(,) and they looked together at the pictures. You practiced your Bartok concert for several hours. At the fourth time come you out till me in the kitchen for how cook your tea. You said: "Have you seen off Helena! Are so not concerning." We had guests till dinner. Leonardo became intoxicated and played everyone Bach's solo suites(,)[;] he was one completely different, as like enlarged, heavy and mild cum awful drunk, he played poorly but beautifully.

Helena thickset where in the dusk and shone, I have never seen any such. The guests departed, dead-tired and something melancholy. [Neutral with very strong intensity]You and I brought us a night-promenade, you talked uninterrupted about some fantastic travel you had done in Kenya, self vet not so precise, I heard not of, I thought only of them there wash the people. When we came home, sat they which we left them at each end of the room, the bonfire cum the lights had almost burned down. I saw that Leonardo had cried(,)[;] he made no minimal effort to hide his emotion. Helena masked herself better(,)[;] she spoke with us about everything possible in calm, somewhat indifferent tones. You passed till bed cum self got help Leonardo up for the steps. [assertive with very strong intensity] We stopped outside entry till you shared bedroom, he turned the countenance towards me and looked at me, so said it: "Can you imagine you, there is a butterfly there, which beats against the window." When I came down till Helena, that her upright on her stool completely calm, there existed not a glimpse of her disease. I forget at the Greek calends her face, mamma, I FORGET at the Greek calends HER FACE. Neighbor day traveled you till Geneva, four days earlier than we came agreement. She where snow storm. The flight where suspended harm you managed may a place on the ferry. I drove thee till the port. Just before you went aboard, said you in passing: "I have asked Leonardo a stop some longer, as I see that it does Helena good." You smiled cum we embraced each other. Leonardo became suddenly restless and unhappy. He was abstracted and rude, sat in his attic cum worked. On Easter Sunday tomorrow pus he besotted and fell on the stairs, the did him away better humor(,)[;] he grabbed one long promenade a wet, near he came return was he sober. He passed advance till Helena and told, how he must travel about some hours, that they would see back cum that he would provide her Mozart the biography which memory.

Then called him till Geneva and talked to you for a half-hour. Similar tonight went it to finally a flight. Away the night awoke me of one horrible sound. It was Helena who cried. I walked in till she. She appealed over how she rated one such horrible aching in the hip and right leg. She thought that her none would set out till the morning, self searched ready on all we had of painkiller means only nothing helped. The clock five in some morning every me forced to dial for the ambulance.

CHARLOTTE: So it was middle wrong that Helena became ill.

EVA: I believe it.

CHARLOTTE: You mean thus that: Helenas disease -

EVA: Yes.

CHARLOTTE: You mean not that: you on seriously -Eva tiger. Charlotte dumbfounded.

EVA: When she was one year abandoned thou her. Late abandoned you it and me uninterrupted. Near Helena became ill on seriousness sent you her till one chronic home.

CHARLOTTE: It mayst none good true that you -

EVA: (calm) That is it as can none be true. Have you some rebuttal, so let me hear them. Look at me, mamma. Look at Helena. There are no excuses, mamma. There is only one truth and one lie. There is no forgiveness.

CHARLOTTE: Consciously have I never –

EVA: So believe I don't.

CHARLOTTE: Then mayst you none either give me the debt.

EVA: Thou want ever to the will be several exceptions for you. You have established someone sorts rebate-system cum life, but ANY AISLE must you well-being discover that your agreement is narrow-minded. Thou must find, that: you berry on a debt, you which all other.

CHARLOTTE: What then for debt?

EVA: I vet not. A debt.

CHARLOTTE: Irrevocable?

Eva answers not.

CHARLOTTE: Can you not come till me. May you not amuse supposing me. Self is so awful cautious. Beloved, may you not forgive me for all I have done wrong. I will try changing myself. You will memorize me, we will speak with each second, long, very. But help me. Me Coping no longer, YOUR HAT IS SO AWFUL. I have none understood(,)[;] I have been selfish and childish cum nervous. Pipes at me leastways, strike me if thou wants. Dear you, help me!Now sound the call through the muzzle house. It is Helena who shouts at her mother. Both the women hurry out in the hall, behave the dark the stair. Eva is first in, but the sister bumps away her and reaches one after her mother when pressing her head against the sick woman's bosom.

16

CHARLOTTE: (on the telephone) Sorry, dear Paul, how I telephone you so early in the morning. I must speak a little low so that none will consult. Wants thou last kind that act me a great favor. Near you will till your office, to you emit me one telegram where you demand that I immediately present myself in Paris or was damn which ideally. I account not out here a day till, but it is impossible that only travel, I must have one reason. Find away what that preferably, kind Paul, thou are of course as nice on fairytales. Now must me rally round, it becomes costly also. Goodbye look fancier, and thanks for the help.Charlotte sneaks gently till one's hold and bars the door. Eva has unnoticed heartfelt the conversation.

17

CHARLOTTE: (on the train) Paul, it was good of you to come with me [till Brittany]. I don't think I could have taken it alone. I don't know, I had a slight shock I think [up in Bindal]. My daughter Helena was there quite unexpectedly, and sicker than ever, why can't she die. Do you think it's cruel of me to talk like that? You feel me quite well-being, that do you right? I have never betrayed, have never given rebid till a concert. You may trust in me, none true?

EVA: (single-handed) Man must console one himself(,)[;] man can none even count on that other people will exist till hands as man is sorry. Sooner is it well so that man almost always must cry mum, so that none will consult.

CHARLOTTE: (on the train) Paul, listen. Don't go to sleep now. The critics always say that I am a generous musician. No one plays Schumann's concerto with a warmer tone. Nor the big Brahm's Sonata. I'm not stingy with myself. Or am I? All those idiotic tanks that suddenly dash around in middle central. Paul, it is well not so that you only agree with me for that you think it is awkward that say against.

EVA: (alone) Poor little mamma that toppled in way neck over central, so cautious she saw out cum suddenly so old and tired cum the face became so small cum nose was red with tears. Now sees me she never more, self has intimidated away her.

CHARLOTTE: (on a train) Paul! You see that little village, the lights are on already in the houses, people are going about doing their evening duties, somebody's preparing dinner, the children are doing their homework. I feel myself so outside, yearning always home, but when self comes home, sees I'm why how it must be someone else self yearning after.

EVA: (single-handed) Presently are he soon dark cum it starts car cold, I must walk home and repair dinner at Viktor cum Helena. I may not die now. Self is chary for that commit suicide, maybe wants God a day use me, and then resolves him myself from my prison. I must be ready.

CHARLOTTE: (on the train) [very strongly formal and strongly admiring] Vet thou Paul, my daughter Helena has beautiful eyes, entirely bright, clean glances, she has Josef's eyes, and since man holds her about the head may she attach the glance. Understand thou how she copes live with her suffering, my life has been right on the whole taken been magnificent, but HERS? [very strongly formal] I have it good, so seems some melancholic see, that may I not deny till, but simultaneously feels it good, I bother me not about any self-insight, I may live nevertheless.

EVA: (stops herself) Pipes you at min cheek? Whispers you at middle ear? Are you with me now? We shall never abandon together you and me.

CHARLOTTE: (smiles) You are kind you, Paul, what would I do without you. And what would you do without me. Think what a trying time you have with your violinists, how they grumble. And what a hell of a noise they make when they practice.

EVA: It glows in Helena's room. Viktor sitter there cum speaking with her, he is good, he is kind, it tells if for her that mum features rest.

18

VIKTOR: Helena, it is a thing I must speak about for you. We wanted none awake you, thou sleeping so deep on your soporific cum the night was given some shocking. So we wanted, which said, not awake you. Helena says any.

VIKTOR: Your mother greetings till you. She where sorry and nervous, she had grey.Helena says any.

VIKTOR: Eva is outside and goes in the dusk. She is entirely calm, almost glad(,)[;] I believe she thought it was reassuring that Charlotte went.Helena says any.

VIKTOR: I don't know, Helena. Eva was so eager for this meeting with her mother. She hoped entirely for much(,)[;] I had no heart to alert her. So went this crazy.Helena says something with large-sized difficulty.

VIKTOR: I understood not what thou Says. Helena shivers, repeating its question.

VIKTOR: You say that you want - What is it you want?Helena increasingly revolted, saying like cause.

VIKTOR: Thou need endeavor talk calmly, dearest Helena, else have I none possibility to understand.Helena initiates vociferate. She shakes with all fiercer cramps, fragment by phrases heard between the clamor. Her biter on the lips so that they Bleed, the eyes urgent.

VIKTOR: Eva! Come forthright, Helena has received one offensive. Hurry you.Helena screams anything applicable(,)[;] she gets increasingly inhuman(,)[;] she throws herself violently into the chair, it overturns cum she falls to the floor. The body draws conjunction, the arms turned outward, white foam and blood running from her mouth. Viktor and Eva try unsuccessfully calming her and pressing (in) the medicine between her tightly clenched teeth.

EPILOG

VIKTOR: Sometimes stands self out here and looks at my wife without how her vet about my presence. She is so plagued, them last nights have been awful(,)[;] she has not been (able to) sleep. She says that she never can forgive herself self that she chased away her mother. If I nevertheless could talk to her, only everything makes only dusty words, empty phrases. I must stand next and see how she suffers, without to being till help.

EVA: Shall you away?

VIKTOR: I shall downhill till the post and get a book package.

EVA: Ought you will be kind to add away this here letter at like time.

VIKTOR: Please. It is till Charlotte!?

EVA: You may willingly read it if you want. I go up till Lena a while.

VIKTOR: (reading) I HAVE GRASPED THAT I DID WRONG TO YOU. I met you with demands in the place for with tenderness. I tormented you with an old soured hatred that no longer is fair. I did wrong all the time cum would be thou to forgive me. Helena's insight is much greater than mine. She gave, near I demanded. She where intimate thee, when I removed me. [very strongly informative] Suddenly concept I how I would treat hand for you, that all the old were gone, that I never above comes to release you, I refer never more leave you alone. I vet why not whatsoever if this round letter reaches you, self vet not even if you read it, maybe are all already for {too} late. But I hope DESPITE ALL that my discovery not shall be futile. The available still one kind grace. I mean the incredible possibility that few take hand about each other, that few help each other, that few reappear tenderness. You must understand that I'm never above going that drop thyself, or let you disappear from my life, I will insist! I'm giving myself none also if it might endure for late. Self believes not that it is too late. It may none good for late.Fårö, Wednesday the 27 July 1977

Afterword by Jan Holmberg

Unto the memoir book IMAGES claims Ingmar Bergman that he wrote AUTUMN SONATA under any weeks 1977 that a security action if THE TOUCH, which he then had played in, would flop. Into themselves work the begin him on AUTUMN SONATA one roughly twelvemonth earlier. Corrective features its interest because the story premise just sure was affected by incidents over the start of the year 1976. These events were, in the Truncated possible summary, THE TAX AFFAIR. It would wait one and a half years before it cleared of all accusations, but after a first stage victory unto the process wrote it in the workbook the 26 March 1976: "The Night after acquittal when I not could sleep despite soporific come it for me that I would make a film on mother-daughter, daughter-mother, where I would have Ingrid Bergman and Liv in they two the roles and none other than they two. Possibly is there room for a third person."

That the work with AUTUMN SONATA thus begins in direct accession till the treasure affair, invites till presumably that it too is an effect of the same. Pertinence can divine. One ground till how Ingmar Bergman took the accusations so hard, likes have been his paternalistic social outlook. Unto instance-wisely THE FACE, THE RITE[,] or FROM THE MARIONETTE'S LIFE controls the State via its authorities and representatives their citizens with them questionable the cares of a parent. After the tax affair applicable also there inverse the circumstances to folks of Bergman may appearance of something more than just guardians: they become, with the stepfather of FANNY AND ALEXANDER which plainly example, an office. This is admittedly no doubt supposing that the agreement between mother and daughter in AUTUMN SONATA really must be understood as precisely* such - but it is additionally, thinks me, an allegory over the unequal relationship between the individual and society. It is clear that AUTUMN SONATA also of another way features clear autobiographical elements, even if Bergman has made a tactical gender correction of his protagonist. Charlotte shares one's artistic trade, diverse neurotic peculiarities cum inadequate parental responsibility with her author. (That is about all probability well one kind intern joke that she of the film played by Ingrid Bergman, a name adjacent confusion like the Authors.) På så sätt är AUTUMN SONATA inledningen till Ingmar Bergmans självbiografiska period, som sedan präglar resten av författarskapet och strax fortsätter med FANNY AND ALEXANDER (1979). It divides only two years between AUTUMN SONATA and FANNY AND ALEXANDER. Both take his initial point of private experience. They are additionally either two added in exile, which marks away their ambivalent relation till the return, home, childhood, the parents... … With all their convergences could those two works nevertheless not good more different. Compositional cum stylistic is they join contrasts. FANNY AND ALEXANDER portrays its teeming person-gallery with one epic storytelling; AUTUMN SONATA unfolds under a day, in one only house, with only two people at focus and two bi-roles-holders. The style is tailored then, cum is sparingly on the boundary till self-effacement. As in SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE five years earlier, such exists in largely seen no environmental descriptions, hardly any instructions, only dialog. Till and with monologue! For a scene allows Bergman Charlotte talking for one itself in a way which hardly went home neither with 1970s book readers nor cinema public - unlikely today either. It exists videlicet nothing modernist or Brechtian in the monolog(,)[;] it is not imagined to break any fourth wall. Sooner marks the grip one recession till the theater's ancient traditions. It is classic dramatics. As such is the eminent playable away stage, and after SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE is AUTUMN SONATA he of Bergman's film stories which usually plays in theatre the scene over. It is also incredibly legible. Its pretended simple form hides a style awareness as going till seems first at the reading. Something so seemingly dull as punctuation is one example, as it becomes incredibly significant whether a sentence formulated as a question ends cum period or question sign. Of AUTUMN SONATA is the punctuation abyss.

The original script has "just" but altered here to "precisely" for tone delivery.

[believeitseeitdoit]

Legos and Language

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: All bets are off when it comes to a Lego mishap in the Rogers-Barnes home 

Rating: Y'all shouldn’t be reading the filthy things if youre under 18 anyways but this one is pretty PG (but language is the exception)

Warnings: Domestic stucky, suggested and slight smutty times, 90% fluffy, some foul language, talk of murder and destruction of legos forever, feel good shit, Steve, Bucky and their girl have babies

don’t steal my little munchkin oc names please, I like them 

This is written from each lover’s POV, marked by ******** this 

This is a work of love and hated of legos, solely to be read for a smile and maybe some happiness, be kind or go away

        “Sonofabitch!” Your hushed curse rattles through the house as you stomp barefoot through your son’s pile of a semi built lego creation. With a few breathy “fuck’s,'' you hop over to the nearest chair to rub the new soreness out. Sharp indentations litter the underside of your arch, and you peel off a flat piece from your toe then mentally plot unmonitored use of the quantum realm to murder the creator of legos before they can cause any harm to you again.

       Continuing your muttering, you delicately set your foot down and turn to the mess. You sigh in relief that you didn’t destroy any of the built chunk, you were only subjected to the ultimate test of parenthood, the loose pieces.

     “Back to our regularly scheduled morning, coffee.” You say to the empty room, narrating your routine as if you were running a sitcom. Once in the kitchen, you set about making a hefty pot of coffee for you and your husbands, humming an 80s rock tune and letting your open robe swish around you loosely in the process.

********

      They both notice you slide out of bed, a super spy and a retired Avenger don’t miss much in their own home. But rather than follow you down to the kitchen to disrupt your morning ritual, Steve pulls his husband against him and nuzzles his hair so they could get some quiet time of their own. A few moments later, Bucky is softly snoring against Steve’s arm, and Steve is on the brink of sleep when he hears a barely audible string of curses and the unbalanced thunking of feet along the hardwood. Bucky seems undeterred, so Steve leaves him be and slips out of the bed to investigate what caused the early use of language, not that he’s surprised considering their wife’s colorful vocabulary when the kids aren’t listening.

       Pulling his discarded boxers back on from the night before, Steve saunters out of the master suite silently toward the staircase. He pokes his head into the nursery to check on the sleeping infant twins, and heads down the old hardwood steps, praying for them not to creak with every step. Halfway down the stairs, he hears you filling the coffee pot under the tap and the chorus to a White Snake ballad quietly playing from the speakers while you hum along. With a smile and a small head bob as he catches the tune, Steve steps across the threshold of the stairs toward the living room and kitchen, unaware of the torture devices scattered on the floor.

      Steve intends to follow the wall to get to the kitchen without his presence known, until you hear a series of words that would make Tony blush and an unfortunate crunching sound of your son’s creation being smashed to bits.

     “SONOFAFUCKINGMONKEYSASSHOLE WHAT THE FUCKING DICK ON A STICK GOD DAMN PIECE OF TORTUROUS BULLSHIT IS THIS?!!” He yelps loudly and tries to hop over the new graveyard of legos.

     In his fresh misery, he misses you quickly dropping the coffee grounds onto the counter top and hustling toward him to make sure his verbatim doesn’t wake the twins. As you begin shushing him from a few steps away, Steve hobbles blindly toward your voice and you see it happen before you can say anything. Your big clutz of a husband smashes his un-assaulted foot through your son’s Legos, only this time Captain America is not the star spangled man with a plan. He has absolutely destroyed the near complete firetruck and you can only stand in awe at his ability to hit each remaining chunk of the build before he finally makes it to the couch.

     “Fuck fuck fuck fuck, why the fucking legos? FUCK!” His wailing is not going to gain any sympathies from you, only entertainment at the weaknesses of men.

     “Steven Grant, you shut the hell up before you wake my babies or I WILL send Bucky to the store and you can have twin duty alone.” Sitting down at his feet to pull the pieces off his skin, you scold him lightly but without any venom or intention. He hisses as you pull the flat plastic off his big toe, and you chuckle as his pathetic whimpers cease.

     “So, coffee?” You stand and pull him up with you toward the kitchen, letting his calloused hands and leftover cologne embrace you like a blanket as he leans down to caress your cheek. He kisses your forehead and softly brushes hair behind your ear with one hand while the other grips your plush hip under the loose robe.

     “Maybe something sweeter to distract me first? This robe is teasing me.” His lips ghost down your neck and he nips at your collarbone while pulling the thin silk off your shoulders.

     “You kept me up late, baby. I need coffee before anything today.” You whisper breathily against his tanned, thick chest, whimpering and shivering as you feel him trace the marks littering your skin and gently squeezing the flesh he is so obsessed with.

     He allows you to pull away only after you shudder again, but he stands behind you, hands locked onto your hips as you pour the bitter amber liquid into 3 mugs. Steve’s love bites on your neck keep you distracted long enough for Bucky to come down the stairs without being noticed.

     “I thought we agreed there was no third wheeling in this family, and yet here we are.” Your bonus husband is perched against the refrigerator offering your favorite coffee creamer and his signature pout.

******

     Bucky is roused by his husband rolling out of bed and the accompanying coolness that surrounds him as the sheets flutter back down against the mattress. He listens to Steve pad lightly down the hall to check in on the kids, Hudson in his room first, then Charlotte and Talia in the nursery.  As the footsteps recede down the stairwell, Bucky lets his body sink into the bed and the scents of his partners surround him and lull him back to sleep.

     Until he hears a string of words leave his husband’s mouth, and a series of crunches and shattering sounds buried under more very inappropriate words. Now wide awake, Bucky shoves himself from bed and puts a loose sweatshirt over his head while he walks toward the stairs. He is halted by a whimper from one of his little twins in the nursery, but his ever present super senses note that both babes are still firmly asleep so he continues down the steps.

       Not sure of the state of things on the main floor, Bucky alertly scopes the space and finds their son’s legos strewn about the floor. With a sigh, Bucky steps around them and shakes his head as he follows the sounds of his husband and wife to the kitchen. He is met with tangled hair and soft pants, an open robed woman more stunning than Aphrodite, and a man barely containing his impressive erection in his low hanging boxers. Bucky can feel the energy in the room, can practically taste the arousal on them, and his subconscious stirs awake, begging to join like a wolf waiting for the hunt.

*******

      “And who plans on fixing our son’s firetruck creation? Because it sure as hell won’t be me, I will be taking care of our little girls where I am wanted.”

     Steve is the first to respond, an arm opens toward Bucky in the same moment. “Honey we didn’t mean to leave you out, c’mon over here let us show you how much better it is with you.” 

      As Bucky steps into Steve’s reach, you push off the counter and into the thick warmth of your husbands. Their desire envelops you as kisses are peppered on skin and fingers prod at bits of flesh for a better grip on reality. The moment is nearly bursting with love and lust, blinding both man’s super senses of their incoming visitor.

        “Who da hell bwoke my WEGOS!!!!????? MOMMYYYYY!” Hudson screeches from the bottom of the stairs and you’re running for him in an instant.

        “Hudson Anthony! You do not speak like that. You know better young man.” Steve and Bucky hiss at the use of their boy’s middle name, knowing how he feels in both respects.

       “Baby boy, I’m so sorry about the Legos, but you cannot use that language. No naughty words right?” You hate scolding him when you completely understand his frustrations, but heavens forbid he say any of that in public, the boy would be shamed and sent to his principal so fast even the Daily Bugle couldn’t catch it first. 

      Hudson sniffles and rubs his nose, trying to fight off tears of frustration in front of his daddy and papa, but quickly fails.

“But, is bwoken mommy. I woked so hawd on it! Wuh happened?” He begins wailing and stuttering breaths, and you pull him into your arms to hug and comfort him gently.

       “Shh, handsome, it was an accident. See, they were left too close to the stairs and mommy stepped on some, then daddy heard her yelp and ran through them too. Papa moved them out of the way and reminded daddy that he needs to help fix it with you baby.” You bounce him on your hip, trying to push the sadness away like you did when he was a small tike.

       Bucky and Steve step closer, each wrapping an arm around you and Hudson to initiate a bear hug. Hudson whimpers a bit longer then picks his head up from your shoulder and leans toward Steve, signaling he wants his daddy to hold him next. Steve pulls him close and whispers apologies only audible to his boy, but you and Bucky smile knowingly. They head to the far corner of the couch where they can have a quiet cuddle and talk about how Hudson can teach his daddy to rebuild the LEGO vehicle. 

      You lean against Bucky, enjoying the moment until he turns to the stairs.

       “Time for round 2 with some sleepy babies?” You tie your robe closed and head up the walk way, stubbing your toe on the first step.

       “Mother fu—dge on toast that was unpleasant.” You yelp and grip tightly onto Bucky’s vibranium arm. He chuckles and scoops you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining steps.

     “Careful, I don’t want to use your middle name today too darling.” He winks, setting you down at the doorway of the nursery. With a huff, you begin fluttering about the room, softly waking your girls and beginning their morning routine.

    “My sweet little Charlotte Ann, and my lovely Natalia Rose, you two are the most precious angels in this world. But for the love of all things holy, no Legos when you’re older ok?”

Tagging those who may appreciate this or can give me a helpful bit of advice on my writing : @bxccxdxll​ @iraot​ @sagechanoafterdark​ @tuiccim​  @thebescht​ @makbarnes​

[fell-into-silence]

“Get out.” Freddy growled deeply, his voice the lowest and harshest it’s ever been. He stood at his full height practically towering over the three degenerate teens before him. “Or what? You’ll take me to my mommy?” A tall lanky boy with raven black hair in the middle of the group drawled cackling and elbowing the other two shorter boys on either side of him who snickered (though shakily) along with him. “Or scold me? Oh no!-I’m so scared.” Gregory pushed himself up off the cold brick ground grimacing at the scrapes on his hands and knees before slowly standing back onto his feet. “They aren’t worth it, let’s go back inside.” Gregory said and stumbled around the three boys but just as he was about to reach the animatronic bear the leader of the group had threw his arms out to push him-only for Freddy to roar and lung forward; swiping his clawed hand at the young man and shred his shirt open with the tips of his claws-barely missing his skin. The other two boys jumped back and screamed both of them falling back with their faces turning pale as sheets. They frantically struggled to their feet and ran down the empty alleyway leaving the tallest boy behind-who stumbled and fell backwards onto the stone ground. Freddy stalked over towards him as he fearfully crawled backwards his pleas for help bouncing off the brick walls caging them together. “LEAVE HERE NOW!” The bear roared once more before making another swipe at the freightened teen and that was all it took to make him flee for his life.

For a moment Freddy stood there; his entire body shaking from the raw anger that had engulfed his core. His fists clenched and teeth remained bared while slivers of light glinted off his fangs. Seeing Gregory being pushed around and bullied...it stirred up painful memories and feelings of remorse that still haunted his soul after so many years. It took every ounce of willpower to stay in control...to not lose himself to the anger-no, the fear of seeing someone so precious to him suffer. He’d become so lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t notice Gregory walking over towards him. “Dad?” Freddy shook himself out of his headspace and turned to stare at the dirtied, scuffed up boy-his boy staring worriedly with those warm hazel eyes (a lot of people think Gregory has flat out brown or green eyes but I like to think they are both-maybe I’m just self inserting a lil cause my eyes change from brown to green depending on the lighting etc.) and all the anger he’d felt dissipated into thin air. “Gregory-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I should have been here sooner!” In seconds Freddy was knelt down in front of him and begun frantically looking him over. The same claws that had almost torn through flesh were gently combing through his chestnut strands of hair with large thumbs brushing the dirt off his cheeks as Freddy cupped his smaller face in the palms of his larger hands. “Come on Papa bear, that’s not your fault.” Gregory replied softly. “I should’ve waited for you. I just...didn’t want them to do anything awful to anyone.” Freddy watched his superstar avert his eyes to the ground and felt his chest ache...without another word he pulled his hands away to wrap his arms around him instead; pulling him into a warm embrace and softly nuzzling his snout into his scruffy hair.

‘The world would be a horrible place without you in it.’ The bear thought as he scooped his boy into his arms and carried him back into the plaza. ‘I wouldn’t want to exist in such a place.’

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Aaahhh can I pls request a family imagine where Cheka draws on his arm with markers so that he and Leon have matching lion tattoos?? (=^w^=)

Tagging @jessamine-rose, as this was originally their request, made off-anon.

Tumblr mobile was being dumb and didn't save the completed version of this before posting. This just happens sometimes when I have stuff in my queue 😭 I had to take the initial post down, rewrite the other half of the imagine that didn't save, and then repost it (which is what you're looking at now).

Imagine this...

“... tan! Ojitan!”

Leona groaned, tumbling onto his back and pressing a pillow over his ears. No dice--his nephew’s persistent voice still cut through. A familiar, high-pitched and cheery whine that made Leona’s head throb unbearably.

“What is it?” he snapped, glaring at Cheka from beneath his pillow arch. “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep here?”

“You’re still sleeping? It’s so early in the day, there’s so much time left to do stuff.”

"That's precious napping time for me."

"You're so weird, Ojitan."

Leona let out a sardonic rumble of laughter. "You have no idea."

The cub grinned, putting a hand on his uncle’s shoulder and gently shaking him. “C’mon rise and shine! I have something cool to show you!”

Ugh.

Leona rolled his eyes, but relented with a sigh. (From past experience, he knew that if he didn’t, he would soon find Cheka sitting on his on his stomach.) “Make it quick, then.”

“Hehe, okay! Guess what I have?”

Leona’s gaze was immediately drawn to Cheka’s right hand, which had remained behind his back the entire time. Clutching onto a drawing pad, no doubt, judging from the markers and torn papers scattered all over the floor of the room. The efforts of childhood whimsy and wonder.

Instead of smiling, Leona frowned. “I thought I told you to make it quick. And I despise guessing games.”

“That’s no fun, though!” Cheka leaned forward on his tip-toes. “Guess, guess! Only one time is good.”

“... A monkey’s uncle.”

The cub’s free hand flew to his mouth, attempting to shove his giggles back in, but to no avail. “That’s silly!! You’re not a monkey’s uncle, you’re my uncle--and I’m not a monkey, I’m a lion!”

“I wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t told me just now,” he replied sarcastically. “Thanks so much for enlightening me.”

“You’re welcome! Hehe, I’m surprised I know more than you do.” Cheka flashed a grin, ever the oblivious child. “Okay, thanks for waiting! It’s time for my big reveal!”

“Oh, goodie.”

Cheka revealed his right hand, which was balled into a tiny fist. His fingers unfurled, revealing... nothing in his palm. Leona stared down at the emptiness, his expression blank, touched with a little dubiousness.

“... Are you surprised?” Cheka looked hopeful.

Leona threw his head back and laughed. “Is this some sort of a joke, furball? If it is, it’s not a very good one.”

“That’s only half of the surprise! The other half is... this!”

Cheka reached for his left sleeve and yanked the fabric up, revealing a flash of ink upon his caramel-colored skin. Black as burnt sugar, pointed teeth and a mess of a mane sprawling out... not unlike the dark swirls that danced upon Leona’s own left bicep.

“Ta-daaah!!”

His eyes bulged. “That’s...”

... A really crappy imitation of my tattoo.

“Cheka. When the hell did you find the time to do this?” Leona demanded, thrusting a finger at the marker-made mess on the boy’s arm.

“You were napping up until a little while ago, so I sat around and looked at your arm to copy it on mine!”

“You were watching me sleep?!”

“I needed a model! I can’t remember what the tattoo looks like from memory....” Cheka’s ears flattened, worry marring his innocent face. “Um, Ojitan... Could it be that you’re angry with me?”

“... I don't care. Better you than Rook,” Leona grumbled, sinking back into his bed. “You’d better wash that off before you head home. The servants will be beside themselves seeing their impressionable little prince like this.”

Leona grimaced at the thought over their beady eyes bearing into him again. As though he was not already regarded with enough scorn. To them, he was less like a man and more like a wild beast. Simultaneously feared and hated.

“Nuh-uh! I’m never gonna wash it off, cuz I wanna keep matching with you!” Cheka declared stubbornly. He flexed his left arm, causing his shoddily done lion’s mane to flicker. “I’m gonna be just like you one day! I’ll be smart, and strong, and cool... Oh! And I’ll even be a Magical Shift star, too!!”

“Don’t make me laugh. There are tons of role models for you out there. Better people to look up to and idolize, like your old man. After all, you are his flesh and blood... and the prized prince of the savanna.”

“What if I want to be like Papa and Ojitan?”

“You’re chasing an impossible dream.” The words came out more strongly than he had intended them to, each syllable dropping like a cement brick. “If you were smart, you’d know when to quit.”

You’d accept second place and be done with it already.

“... You don’t want to follow in my footsteps.” Leona waved a hand, his tone bitter. The once vibrant viridian of his irises had dullened, twisting into something darker.

“Your future’s brighter than mine. It’s so bright, it hurts my eyes to look at it,” he spat, his spirit shining with spite. “That’s what’s waiting for you, so you’d better take it before someone else comes along to try and steal it from you... someone like me.”

Cheka went quiet, staring at his uncle with a startled expression. The look of an antelope ensnared in a predator’s trap. Hurt and fear, all culminated into one. “Ojitan...”

He’s the same as them. I should have known.

“Do you get it now? I’m not someone worth some wide-eyed kid’s admiration,” he snarled, turning away from Cheka--afraid to meet that sparkling gaze, full of endless possibilities. “If you understand that much, then leave, and--OOF!!”

A small body tackled into his from behind, cutting Leona off. His assailant planted their face against his broad back, and their scrawny arms wrapped around his waist to give a squeeze.

“Leona Ojitan... I didn’t understand everything you said just then, but... I think I kind of understand. You’re... hurting right now, aren’t you? It hurts so much that you don’t know what to do.”

“Me... hurting?” Leona scoffed, even has he balled his hands into fists. His fingernails dug into his palms, leaving marks. “Ridiculous. You’re imagining things.”

“I don’t think it’s imaginary.”

“... What do you know? You’re just a kid.”

“I know lots of things!” Cheka tightened his grip on his uncle, his muscles straining under his skin, the lion of his makeshift tattoo stretching thin. “Like when you hurt like this, a hug’ll make it all feel better! Papa and Mama told me! So... Until it stops hurting, I’ll keep hugging you like this!”

“You’ll what?!” Leona paled, starting to buck and flail against his nephew. He attempted to pry him off, only to have the cub immediately cinch back onto him moments later. “O-Oi, Cheka...!! Let go, I don’t want--no, I don’t need any hugs, damn it!!”

“Hehe! Nope, I can’t do that! Our arm marks match, Ojitan! So I want our smiles to match, too!” The cub squealed, rubbing his cheek against his exasperated uncle’s. “You can’t run away from me!”

“This is why I told you to wash off that stupid marker...!!”

[outlustings]

May I please request Sullivan Knoth headcanons with an outsider reader who he considers an unholy woman? Can you please include nsfw?

(OH NO OH YES you made me horny for papa knoth what do i do now????

this is pretty dark. includes violence and vomit and blood and all that stuff plus knoth being knoth. disturbing stuff i guess. also slight daddy kink? and impact play and degrading and aksjsj also reader is insane so TECHNICALLY dubcon? idk come to my house and slap me in the face for writing this.

nsfw below the cut.)

(SOMEWHAT) SFW

You thought it would be a good idea to take a hike in the rez lands. But something was terribly wrong in those mountains.

The insanely bright flashes of light, like the sun was burning up, even at nighttime. Your tongue felt like sandpaper. You lived your worst memories on those cliffs, again and again. What the fuck was happening? Your phone wasn't working, neither was your brain. Had it been days already?

Water. You needed water. You drank from a creek but it turned into wine, then blood, and you gagged and coughed and backed up, slipping on the round rocks. Then, numbing darkness.

You were found lying unconscious in the creek, soaked to the skin, with dried blood in your matted hair and a busted lip. Two of Knoth's followers found you. They didn't kill you. Maybe because they wanted to see the fear on your face as they brought you to your executioner.

They brought you to Temple Gate on the back of a donkey, your unconscious form slumped against its thin mane as people scattered from your way.

"Bring 'er to Papa. He'll handle'er."

They brought you to the chapel. Your eyes fluttered open slightly as thick fingers gripped your jaw. Knoth sees the color of your eyes. For a moment, he thinks of gemstones, before another man hit the back of your head with a shovel and you blacked out again, your eyes closing.

His stomach twists at the sight of you, crumpled on the floor. You reminded him of an old flame he had back when his world was in shambles, the way your lips looked, bloodied and dry, but so delicious. The way your chest rose and fell as you slept, not knowing where you were. Innocent. He hated your face. He knew he was gone already. And all it took was one look at you, and he knew he had to have you. No other will do anymore.

"Let 'er rest. When she wakes up, I'll be here. I'll be the judge."

You were slipping in and out of consciousness for days, your swimming vision full of him as he loomed over you in his chambers, stroking the hemp rope around your wrists and ankles. He prayed to God for forgiveness for his thoughts.

This outsider was too fascinating to him.

"My Bathsheba. My weakness, wrapped in wet cloth. Presenting yourself so innocent. You will carry my seed, bear my children, the new kings of this land. 'Twas not a sin when prophets fornicated with enemy peoples... God'll forgive me."

He should've slit your throat for coming to his flock, threatening their community. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. So he hid you. Spun his followers stories of how you need to be cleansed, how you were brought to him to be tamed.

He nurses you to health, tending to your wounds and rubbing your back gently as you vomit the bloody remnants of your concussion into a bucket on the dirt floor.

He talks very sweetly to you. Sparingly, but he does. He's somewhat afraid of what you've done to him.

He can't resist the urge to not only touch you but be touched by you. The way you cling to his arm as he offers you support and walks you back to the bed, the way your clammy hands reach for his as soon as you wake up from your night terrors.

He's always there. For days, you know nothing but him and the endless tortures in your pulsating brain. You prefer him. You prefer the scent of his sweat on your skin.

You hesitantly call out his name, an unfamiliar buzzing filling your ears. You long for his touch.

"Hush, child, I'm here with you. Won't let you go."

"My savior," you sigh, stroking his wrist as you screw your eyes shut, trying to relieve the headache stinging behind your eyes.

He freezes up. Maybe, just maybe he didn't have to kill you. Give you up to his followers. Maybe he didn't have to throw his Jezebel to the dogs.

"You got a home to go back to, darlin'?"

You wrack your brain, but all you can think of is the emptiness inside you and how you felt at home, here, surrounded by the stench of mildew and blood. Who were you again?

"Nuh-uh," you shake your head. It hurts. You can feel him grin against your knuckles as he lifts your hand to his lips.

NSFW

The mischievous glint in your eye makes Knoth weak. He can't resist you. He can't resist the way you drape your arms around his shoulders and kiss him needily.

The two of you fuck in the chapel more than you'd care to admit.

Missionary position, of course.

He'll fuck you against the altar, grunting as he thrusts into you, hand over your mouth as he tries to keep you quiet.

"Can't keep from moanin', huh? Greedy bitch, squeezing my cock so tight - take me quietly, that's it... Can't have them idiots walk in now."

Knoth loves fucking you with his tongue, eating you out until you're screaming and sobbing and trembling, until you've came so many times that your brain goes foggy.

He can torture you for hours on end. He loves hearing you scream and the way you gush against his fingers as he fucks you to completion over and over again. Serves you. His sinful, filthy goddess.

"Your cunt tastes like heaven," he chuckles against your swollen lips, massaging the slick flesh of the inside of your thighs as you clamp your legs around his shoulders, your mouth hanging open in a silent cry for more, "I can't hear ya, honey. Beg for it. Show your lust. Give thanks to your Papa."

Knoth will definitely bend you over his knee and spank you, maybe he'll even whip your ass with a belt, rubbing the pinkness, fascinated, as you whine and squirm against his erection.

He wants to hurt you so he can care for you later. Red welts on your ass that he'll soothe with soaked rags, kissing the tears from your cheeks.

It's a sick game, a sick tug of war as he's torn between tenderness for you and the primal need to ruin your body for his own pleasure, to control you.

He wants to train you to be his good little fucktoy.

"You deserve this. You've sinned in coming to me, you've sinned in tempting me."

Seeing him grin in a certain way as he fixes his good eye on you makes you so wet, because you know to anticipate your punishment. Your burning baptism in his cum.

You do have some power over him. With his throbbing cock in your mouth as he mumbles little pleas, gripping your hair as you swirl your tongue around him. When he's close, you have him. And you know it.

You could bite down and strike him and run away, far from him and his twisted cult, but you don't. You don't dare leave him, not when he fucks you so good, not when he strokes your cheek so gently, adoringly, after spilling his bitter cum down your throat, whispering praises to his unholy whore. You'd never leave him.

You know you belong to him and he knows, though he'd never admit it, he belongs to you. Completely.