#//said her full title in fear like poor girl

[syrenigelida]

//Charlotte being afraid of Ei when realizing who she is kinda cements how far away the people of Fontaine are from their archon

[salarta]

Polaris, an Unsung Hero

Anyone who hasn't seen some of my more recent posts, to recap, I think Polaris' chances of good near future treatment out of Marvel are extremely slim verging on nil.

It was already bad enough that Marvel is going all in on unthinking 90s nostalgia, which was terrible for Lorna in how it restricted her to "Havok's supporting character girlfriend." Even worse, the X-Men comics have an element of 80s nostalgia as well, so current X-Factor added the "abducted damsel in distress for Havok to have manpain about it" angle too. Pair that with too many X-Men fans I've run into making excuses for poor treatment (one even explicitly saying Lorna "deserves" terrible characterization) but then getting upset when their own faves like Pyro get similar poor treatment, and it's worse. But the United States 2024 election results were the last straw for me. While I have serious doubts that fuckery isn't afoot, the Dems aren't even trying to stop fascism in any way, and in fact are trying to throw trans people under the bus as an excuse.

So what we're left with is the suggestion that a majority of voting Americans want racist, sexist, trans hating pedophiles running the country as long as they "get mine," an attitude echoed in X-Men fandom ("Polaris getting fucked over is fine as long as my fave is treated well"), and the people with the greatest ability to resist these problems instead eagerly jumping headlong into exacerbating them.

It's fucked. And it's left me feeling like Polaris doesn't have a shot at good work in the short term, cause how do you build awareness of what she deserves and get people to understand and respect it in this atmosphere?

At this point, you're wondering why I said all of the above when it seems far off from the title of my post. It's connected because it's had me thinking differently over the past few weeks.

I don't think I can "fight" for the character, because I don't see a path forward to do it. What I can do, though, is simply share my feelings and what I see.

And folks. I was reminded of something important last night.

Progress in this world isn't something that gets rewarded for the people and forms that initiate it. It gets punished. Daring to break the mold, daring to move the needle forward, daring to pave the way for others, that gets punished sharply.

That's what happened to Polaris.

I don't know how many people know this, but Marvel comics was rife with sexism, and still is but to a lesser degree. Sue Storm started out as only able to turn invisible, and treated very often in the sexist supporting character vein. Some depictions of the Fantastic Four even had Reed threatening to smack her around.

In the X-Men books, at the time Lorna was introduced, Jean Grey was placed in the common mold of female characters at the time. More regressive, more supporting character in nature. Both Jean and Wanda were often set out as the "token girl" for the respective men around them. It wasn't exactly a progressive spot to be in even as just the idea of a woman on a team at all could arguably have been progress (when you compare to how Wonder Woman was first added to the Justice Society as their... secretary).

Enter Polaris. Although her introductory issue had a tinge of the "for a dude" in how Iceman got to save her at one point, the majority of her first appearance - and of some (not all) depictions pre-Claremont - made her very progressive in her time.

When her powers and relation to Magneto were learned, the X-Men feared her. Before learning those things, they saw her as just another woman in need of help. But after, they saw her as a full-fledged threat who could really tear them apart if she so chose. By herself. Not even adding in the potential mutant army at her beck and call there. But then, she decided to resist the "evil blood" of her father (note: this was before Magneto was established as Jewish, when Magneto was a mustache-twirling white man villain and nothing more) and follow her own path.

We had two progressive acts in her first issue. She was established as a truly dangerous woman, and she decided to be her own woman rather than simply do something because that's what her father would want from her. Then some depictions between this and Claremont let her speak more feminism by chastising Havok and Iceman for fighting over her instead of caring about the mission at hand, or by Lorna saying she's "nobody's girl" when Jean started suggesting it.

This progress was punished.

Gradually, Lorna was reframed as "Havok's girl." As his almost property. As a character who isn't allowed to have her own thoughts and feelings, only caring about what Havok wants and what matters to him. Claremont exacerbated this with his tenure by not only reinforcing the idea, but turning Lorna into a punching bag for villains and even other X-Men like Storm. Got bad enough that Claremont even had Zaladane steal Lorna's powers and then add extremely generic powers (super strength, invulnerability) alongside basically a "hate sink" power where the concept was for literally everyone she ever meets to feel their most negative emotions and want to kill her (even if they kill themselves in the process) just cause she's there.

That's where Lorna's stuck. Any time she makes any tiny modicum of progress, she gets forced back into the role of damsel and punching bag, if not explicitly like Claremont then implicitly with jokes and insults aimed at her (see also: 2020s X-Factor having Lorna say she's a "big gun" and then immediately having possessed Siryn mind control her and outright call her stupid for being written as stupid).

Every time I think of all of this, it makes me sad and angry. Polaris deserves a fuckload better. Even if you pretend she wasn't made until Claremont or until the 90s, like so many at Marvel like to do, she still deserves better. She's been wronged and savaged and had so much of what she offers torn apart and handed off to other characters.

Did you know they recently "created" a new character to "follow in Magneto's footsteps" named Magnetrix? Using Lorna's own first codename from before she was given the Polaris one, to promote a brand new character meant to steal yet another thing from her, the notion of her as heir to Magneto's legacy. While she's stuck as a supporting character girlfriend on X-Factor that gets abducted for Havok's sake.

Yet in my recent thoughts, after all the apologism from X-Men fans, after the US 2024 election, I find myself looking at something else here instead of the horrific injustice that looks like it'll never get fixed in my lifetime (maybe not even in the lifetime of anyone alive today).

Even though Claremont set it, ironically, Polaris is a very appropriate code name for her. Because it represents the north star, a guiding light. It steers people in the right direction within the darkness.

If someone uses that star to get where they're going, the star is rarely given accolades when they show up as needed. People don't go "Let's hear it for the guiding star! Yeah!" They just revel in where they are.

That's Polaris and her influence in a nutshell.

Yes, the progress seen in Sue Storm, Jean Grey, Scarlet Witch, Storm, the bulk of it comes from good work focused on them. Just like the bulk of a ship getting to its proper destination comes from the good work of those people on that ship who moved it along. But that ship needed a guiding light for those efforts to matter. That ship needed someone or something to light the way.

Polaris lit the way for all of those female characters and more.

I know most fans of those characters will balk at the suggestion. They'll say it was all self-powered, that Lorna did nothing for any of them. Some of those fans will even say Lorna made it harder for their faves. And I can understand why they would be so defensive of their faves in that way, I really do.

But the truth is, you need someone else to go first. You need someone else to stand out, take the beatings, set the precedent.

None of these characters, including Polaris, would have gotten anywhere if not for Wonder Woman and any characters who inspired that character. Wonder Woman set a precedent herself by being a female superhero who actually got shit done, and being extremely progressive in her time (even despite the sexism of things like being assigned secretary of the Justice Society). Just being a female superhero was blazing a trail.

Polaris blazed a trail herself by introducing most feminist ideals with her coming onto the scene. She created an opening for Jean and Storm and all of them to be able to get more progressive characterization. Lorna took the beating so they could move forward.

That's what happened. That's what's still happening. To this day. She built up the value of Magneto having an heir with his same power set, and now not once but twice, Marvel's introduced two female characters meant to take Lorna's place in that role so they could send her back to sexist treatment land. The upcoming "Magnetrix" is just the newest. There was also a recent story set in the past with a different character whose name I can't remember doing the same thing, seemingly carrying Magneto's legacy.

When Claremont decided to make Lorna into a hate sink for her power set, as shitty as it was for him to do, the truth is he was just making the implicit into something more explicit.

No matter what good Lorna does, no matter what trails she blazes, she's never rewarded for it. All she ever gets is punished and put down. All she ever gets is people saying she deserves to be treated shitty. Or people saying she doesn't deserve to be Magneto's daughter. Or people insisting she can't be anything more than Havok's girlfriend on X-Factor, and that X-Factor is all she's good for.

But despite all of that?

She's in the end doing good for everyone. Even though Marvel and too many X-Men fans at large will never, ever respect her for it.

They'll happily take advantage of the openings she creates. They'll love how she makes it easier to make their own faves do the things she already did, but that they can take credit for it with a different (sometimes new) character. They'll never give her her due. They'll just take take take.

And I guess... that's her real legacy. And why she's an unsung hero.

She gets nothing for the beatdowns in and out of the fiction. She gets nothing from the repeated character assassinations, the taking away of everything she is to hand off to other, "more deserving" characters. Any time she makes progress, it's instantly lifted for others to reap the benefits.

She's never going to be who and what she should be, and should have been for decades.

So maybe the best approach is really just to bask in the afterglow of what she accomplishes in secret.

Without her, what progress we do have wouldn't exist. Jean Grey and Storm would not have solo books today. Or at least, it would've been a much harder uphill climb for them to get those solo books. So many paths and ideas within X-Men and wider Marvel comics that get celebrated for being progressive, simply would not be if she hadn't taken the bullets for daring to stand out.

This doesn't mean I'll start reading Jean Grey or Storm comics. I'm not really interested in either of them, and truthfully, the way my brain works, reading those comics would actually just leave me more upset that Polaris will never get anything even remotely close to the same thing. I don't like to engage in stuff that just upsets me in a bad way like that.

But from afar, I can still think of how much my favorite character has done in secret, with no accolades and respect to show for it.

[audiblehush]

I began looking over the episode titles for S3 again… and that “Tick Tock” title has me mulling over some things… Book Spoilers below!

Spoilers / theories

I’m assuming that like in the books, someone (whether Cressida or someone new) tries to claim the LW title and so Pen is under a time crunch to print a denial… and of course Colin likely discovers her while she goes to do so… because the next episode title is “Romancing Mr. Bridgerton.”

(But being that the next episode title is “Joining of Hands” I’m worried they’re not going to give Colin at least a full episode to grapple with that reveal… sigh. He deserves to have time to feel and express his feelings—be they sadness or anger— about that…)

But I ALSO wondered with how the show IS obviously changing other aspects of the story, if maybe Colin or Eloise will be under a time crunch to do something surrounding Pen… to parallel the time-sensitive situations where Pen felt back into a corner and made decisions that had reachingn consequences.

Maybe Colin learns something about Debling , who we know is going to be a “serious” suitor for Pen (whatever that ends up meaning), that makes his interest in her dishonest or ruinous? (to attempt to parallel the Marina situation, though, not the same - poor Marina was in a desperate spot. Doesn’t excuse what she tried to do, but the girl had almost no options). I don’t even need/want Colin to be romantically jealous - Pen is his friend first, and would be trying to look out for her for her happiness… he just also happens to be hella horny for her now andmaybealittkeinlovewithhernohesnotindenial 🤷‍♀️

Or Maybe Eloise has to make a monumental choice regarding the Queen who is still hunting for LW? And Eloise, being the only one who knows her identity, is the only one who can do something to save her friend, even if she’s furious at her?

How I felt about it would depending highly on the execution of such a plot line. Because it could be amazing for the characters in terms of reconciliation and understanding where each person was coming from (can you imagine the conversations??) in this season and earlier ones… that being said, I don’t want it to be used as an excuse for Pen to not have to apologize, but it could be a powerful moment between Penelope and either Colin or Eloise. A “walk in another person’s shoes” moment, if you will, where all characters involved realizes that nothing in those situations was clear cut. No one was blameless.

…but it would be a big departure from the book.

But so many things are already different - I want the story that has BEEN told with THESE versions of the characters to be done well… not just book accuracy for the sake of it.

ANYWAY, I’m tired of all the vitriol I’ve seen floating around for various characters. I have faith the writers will give us something satisfying.

I love Colin (my soft boi is the BEST male love interest on this show FIGHT ME)…

and I love Pen (shy, complicated, multifaceted, both powerful and powerless in equal measure, has a complete lack of real vulnerability out of fear… I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered a character like her before)…

And I can’t WAIT to see what this season does with them 🩵

[paddingtonfan69]

2, 6, 8, 9, 15, 19, 21, 30

okay HERO for this plethora of numbers, tysm!!

2. What's something new that you tried in a fic this year?

i’ve fucked around with non-linear timelines before but the specificity doing a full backwards timeline for now I understand, and it’s time to leave the woods was a first for me, especially because said timeline took place over HUNDREDS of years! but i’m v satisfied with the results!

6. What character(s) captured your heart?

okay very obvious because 6/7 of the fics I wrote this year were for agatha all along, and 5/6 of those fics were from Rio’s perspective, but I fucking love that bitch!!! a true loser shrouded in a cloak of seeming very cool, but actually just so down bad and gay that dealing with her ex actually takes priority over like… her sacred duty she’s been doing for millennia. death is a lesbian and she’s a little freak about it and she’s played by aubrey plaza!!! a true icon for all of us who cannot be normal about the women we are on in love with!! she is so special to me

8. What fic meant the most to you to write?

answered here!

9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

all of them 😌 okay but if I had to choose, probably both in the death and taxes series, because it’s SUCH a fun world to inhabit and so silly and goofy!!! love to lean into the stupidity of it all and make myself laugh! also special shoutout to the second one for getting to make fun of dear evan hansen which is always a joy!

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

lmao hands down someday we will all be on our backs (free at last from income tax), which low key isn’t even a great title!! I was just googling and looking at lists of song lyrics about taxes and nothing was working! I wanted to do something from the beatles’ tax man, but the lyrics were too mean to my poor rio and then the others were just not right. finally one of the lists I found included this deep cut billy joel song and I was like SURE! it works well as sort of a nod to the death and taxes of it all, and the lying on our backs thing can be a little bit of a euphemism for sex, but man it does NOT roll off the tongue. its very funny bc this fic is close to becoming the most popular fic i’ve written EVER (crazy!!!!) and it’s NEVER referred to as its title, simply “tax evasion fic” which is much more fitting imo

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

answered here! but another one I love is from an inch away from more than just friends my only non-agatha fic this year, which was for bridgerton, a show I barely watch, but HAD to make my girl eloise a huge dyke for her best girl and wrote her this regency lesbian romantic speech that i’m quite proud of:

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

when I was working on you’re here, there’s nothing I fear, I was having fun doing research on actual titanic survivors to throw them into this silly fic on the titanic. and I stumbled across these two men who were definitely gay for each other and I was like “oh what a fun detail!” but then when I decided to incorporate them into the fic, I found myself very touched by them and their story, what little we know of it. their inclusion is actually the final line of that fic, and adds a sweetness and romanticism to that story, which started out mostly as a comedic one, but the discovery of these irl lovers actually changed the tone of the ending!!! love those guys!

30. What would you like to write next year?

gotta actually finish an original fiction project I’ve been working on, which kind of fell by the wayside for these last couple months when I went insane over aaa!! on the fic end i would like to dip my toe back into the tax verse again, because I have so much fun with them!!

end of year fic asks

[sapphireginger]

Title: I’ve Been Burned Before - Chapter #7

Pairing: Steter [Stiles + Peter]

Rating: Mature

Warning/Tags: 

Mild Explicit Language

Summary: 

The younger man shuffles in place. "Where do you suppose the spark is now?"

"Who knows?" said the older gentleman.

“Whatever was that spark’s name?” the old woman asks.

Neither man knows the answer, but a small girl nearby quickly engages them from her place on a swing set. “He was everyone and no one at once of course. No one knows his name. I think he could even be a she, but we’ll never know either way.”

@steter-stackson-bingo 

Card Number: 107

Square: You Are Not Alone

Full AO3 Link

The months continue to pass and pretty soon they’ve been mated for three months. It’s a week after month three of being mated that a piece of information reaches the ears of the two mates through the mistletoe vine of supe news.

It’s an old woman that they overhear on their way to the shop from their date whose words make them stop in their tracks.

“It’s tragic is what it is but no one feels any great sympathy as far as I can tell. The lot of them were rotten and that Nemeton was rotten through and through.”

An older gentleman speaks next. “It’s a shame though. So many lives were lost. To think, all they needed was a spark. I mean they’re rare and all of course, but they had one. Had the spark not been harmed, they easily could’ve prevented everything.”

Peter watches his mate freeze in place as they listen in a manner that is as inconspicuous as possible. He's dying to wrap his arms around Stiles and hold him tight. The scent of fear and more is making his wolf anxious. Peter settles for taking his mate's hand and lacing their fingers together.

Stiles’s blood runs cold as he listens to the words said by a younger man who is the next to speak.

“Well, you know it’s called Beacon Hell for a reason. Sparks are gifts to us weres, gifts to the supernatural world in general, and that the spark was taken for granted is abhorrent. I don't blame the poor thing for leaving. I would have left too.”

The older gentleman clears his throat, humming in agreement. "Aye, as would I. Also, a spark needs an anchor which is often a pack. However, they don't need an anchor in the same way a were does. That group of individuals could hardly be considered a pack. They were the antithesis of such a sacred thing."

"The poor dear," the old woman says softly.

"My heart goes out to the spark, truly." The older man huffs, sounding vaguely annoyed. "If I had any idea who the spark was, I would've shown them what a pack should be like."

The younger man shuffles in place. "Where do you suppose the spark is now?"

"Who knows?" said the older gentleman.

“Whatever was that spark’s name?” the old woman asks.

Neither man knows the answer, but a small girl nearby quickly engages them from her place on a swing set. “He was everyone and no one at once of course. No one knows his name. I think he could even be a she, but we’ll never know either way.” She notices Stiles and Peter and waves. “Hi, Mr. and Mr. Hale!”

The two mates wave and then keep walking, Stiles’s normally pale face ashen. Something has happened in Beacon Hills, but the question is, what exactly did happen? Neither of them says the words allowed, their new life still feeling somewhat fragile in some respects. Would it be just their luck if that accursed place and the ghosts of their past were the thing that shattered their peaceful existence?

✸ ✧ 🔥 ✧ ✸

It takes hours to calm Stiles down. Peter is exhausted by the time his mate finally settles.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Stiles gulps, inhaling air greedily as his chest loses its tightness. “Do you think it’s really bad?”

Peter shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s possible. Why?”

“No reason,” Stiles snaps. The shop shakes slightly with the spark's frustration, a glow coming from his eyes. Peter loves his mate and finds his power intoxicating but when he gets upset all the wolf wants to do is fix it. A frame falls to the ground and shatters.

Stiles glares at it and then at his mate. "Well shit. I'll have to make a new one for the dryad's birthday." His lips form a pout, the walls stilling and the shop suddenly silent once more.

Softly, Peter rumbles to soothe his mate. He hates when Stiles is upset, but he doesn't know how to approach him right now. They never talk about that accursed town. Neither of them loved it there. Neither of them has the fondest of memories of the place. Well, the fond memories they do have, don't outweigh the bad ones. "Stiles, darling? What can I do?"

"Nothing," the spark says, the scent of salt hitting the air. "Great. Now I'm all weepy. I hope you're happy."

The wolf quirks a brow and tilts his head at his mate's tone.

Stiles huffs, his cheeks pinking with sheepishness and guilt. "Sorry, my wolf," he mumbles. Stiles sighs and crosses his arms, looking so small and much less like the powerful spark Peter knows him to be. He's nearly hidden from the wolf's sight where he's sunk into the sofa with the giant quilt wrapped around him.

"It's all right, sweetheart. No harm done."

“I don’t give a damn about any of them,” Stiles says, sending a small smile to his mate in thanks but it quickly disappears. "I don't have a single damn fuck to give about them. I'm all fresh out of fucks."

The steady beat of the spark's heart doesn’t surprise Peter. Stiles is telling the truth and it would've shocked Peter more if he had still cared. The wolf has never claimed to be a good person and well Stiles hasn’t either. It’s like Darcy says, 'My good opinion once lost is lost forever.'

The Beacon Hell Hole wolves didn’t heed the warning. He wonders what exactly happened but decides not to push any more. He’s not eager to find out the circumstances behind the gossip they overheard earlier today. That accursed town holds nothing good for him or his mate.

So instead, Peter guides his mate to lay down and positions himself between his mate and the back of the sofa. He curls around his mate's back and holds him close. After a few minutes of gently running his clawed fingers through Stiles's hair, Peter tucks the quilt in tight around his mate and buries his nose in the spark’s neck. The outside world can fuck off for now, especially whatever shitstorm the wolves have undergone. Whatever it was, they surely brought it upon themselves.

✸ ✧ 🔥 ✧ ✸

When Peter wakes, his mate isn’t there and he panics slightly. He snarls softly and tries to calm his racing heart, only relaxing when he sees Stiles sitting cross legged on the floor. The spark is silently staring at nothing almost like he's in a trance. As the wolf sits up, he recognizes what's happening. He's only seen it on a few occasions and he's in awe every time.

Right now, his mate is wearing the expression he has when the spark is communicating with the earth, although usually he does it outside where he can actually—“Did a root decide it wanted to buy some potions?” the wolf says in a teasing tone.

Stiles blinks and slowly turns to look at him. His eyes are glowing bright purple, the small strikes of lightning making Peter shudder. At first, the wolf doesn't think he'll get a reply, but after a couple minutes, his gaze still distant, Stiles says, “They’re gone. All of them. They are all gone. There’s no one left.”

Peter stills, his eyes widening. “No one?” he whispers.

“No one.”

The spark reaches forward to take his mate’s hand so he too can see what Stiles has learned from Mother Earth and Neoma, Queen of the Nemeta. His voice is eerie when he speaks.

“Nemeta are sacred and are worshiped as goddesses in most countries. They are protected by their chosen guardian. Every single Nemeta has a guardian except for the Nemeton in Beacon Hills.

“For a time, the guardian was my mother but then she grew ill and there was no one to teach me. So, the Nemeton tried to find me and show me my role, but she wasn’t strong enough. The town fell into darkness, a darkness so depriving that she was lost to hibernation. She was too weak but then the night you were killed by fire, she was awakened once more. She healed my burn, though the scar was beyond her ability to heal. She then aided me in my departure as best she could.

“However, she kept watch over the town as much as was in her power to do so. She saw the way the so called pack functioned. There was no loyalty among them. There was no real connection, and the pack bonds were non-existent.

“So, the day after you left, the Nemeton reached out to her queen to plead with her. She begged the queen to see the town was cleansed. The Queen did but when she discovered just how deep into the darkness the town had gone, she said there was nothing for them to do but start over. Like Noah in the ark, the Nemeton shot up and swallowed the town whole in her new shadow.”

Peter is silent and frozen as he listens, almost unable to believe what he’s hearing. “So, there’s no more Beacon Hills? No Derek or Scott or your—”

“No more,” Stiles says, cutting his mate off. He swallows thickly, his throat clicking with the action. “There is no such thing as Beacon Hills anymore.” Then Stiles slumps as if he were a puppet that had gotten its strings cut.

Peter is quick to catch his mate and pulls him close. The rest of the information continues to trickle into the wolf’s mind, and he snarls at what he learns.

~✸🔥✸~

Deaton helped Kate.

Gerard and Kate worked together to kill Laura and Peter was blamed.

Derek abused his power over the new betas and ended up blinded by them.

The Sheriff was turned and then went feral.

Stiles had been the heart, had been the glue, of what little pack they had.

When Stiles left everything fell apart.

~✸🔥✸~

The wolf looks down at his unconscious mate and brushes the chocolate curls away from his eyes. His beautiful mate who was the glue and heart of that band of misfits left and without him they were nothing. Now, from what Peter has just gleaned, they really are nothing. They are no more.

With a sigh, Peter lifts his mate and carries him upstairs to the bedroom. He sets about tucking the two of them into bed. The wolf doesn’t expect anything more from Stiles tonight, but just as he’s about to fall asleep himself, he feels a tug on his wrist. Amber eyes lock with his own as the spark speaks in a whisper. “I have to go back.”

Peter blinks and narrows his eyes. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?” Peter snaps. “There’s nothing there. You said it yourself. There's nothing there for you. There's nothing there for me. There is nothing there for either of us. Why would you go back?!"

A hand cups the wolf’s cheek and Stiles flashes his eyes. “It’s my birthright. Neoma has asked me to go. It is now my duty as it was my mother’s duty before me.” Stiles’s voice cracks. “Don’t make me go alone, my wolf. I don’t want to go alone.”

Peter growls softly and pulls his mate into a tight embrace. “I told you there’s no place for me other than by your side. You are not alone. You will never be alone again. I promise. I belong by your side, always. I will be by your side until my final breath, darling.”

The tension that had built up in Stiles in preparation for his mate’s refusal dissipates. The spark smiles, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I love you, mój słodki wilku," he whispers against the tan skin of his mate's throat. The spark noses at his claiming bite, giving it a harsh nip, that he soothes the sting of with his tongue.

The action elicits a soft gasp from the wolf. "And I you, little sparkling."

Stiles pulls back with a wet laugh and puckers his lips, seeking a kiss from his wolf, a kiss from his mate. Of course, Peter eagerly gives the amber eyed man what he desires. There’s nothing the wolf wouldn’t do for Stiles, nothing he wouldn't do for his mate. Peter can only hope that the spark knows this. IF he doesn't, Peter will keep reminding him over and over and over again.

With this in mind, the wolf pulls from the kiss to lock eyes with his gorgeous mate. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. You know that right?"

A thick swallow makes the pale column of his mate's throat tighten and loosen as the spark nods. "Yes, but I love hearing it just the same."

"Then I shall tell you over and over and over again. I never want you to doubt it."

Stiles smiles, his cheeks bright pink again. "The same goes for me in regard to you. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, my Peter wolf."

"Oh?" Peter says, his smile doing things to Stiles. The wolf's heart swells, and he kisses the tip of Stiles's nose. "I didn't know that, but now I do."

"What a pair we make, huh?" Stiles says with a goofy grin.

Peter chuckles. "Yes, what a pair we make indeed."

Stiles quirks a brow and chews his lip, gasping with a clawed finger gently pries the lip from between his teeth.

"What do you want, Stiles?"

"You. Peter, I want you."

"I'm yours," the wolf breathes, bringing their lips together once more.

They get lost in the intoxication of skin on skin when the spark vanishes their clothing. Tomorrow, they will worry about the trek back to the place where it all began, but for now they will indulge in the carnal pleasures they can bring each other. They will do so again and again and again until dawn.

[autumnbrambleagain]

Yhelm P10 - readmore for full

It was Big Girl Serious Time. If only mom could see her now, standing in the parlor of one of the city's crime bosses, holding a prisoner on a chain of solid Law. A trusted enforcer! Aren't you proud, mom. Be proud, mom.

Belham Pio, Boss of the Guild of Porters and Fishermen, was a dead, which meant he was a spooky skeleton-ghost and was born that way. He'd leaned hard into the theme. His parlor was dimly-lit, lined with unsettling portraits, peeling wallpaper, and carefully-maintained cobwebs. Bookcases where if you actually leaned in to read them the titles were all like "100 Methods of Torture." The windows were clouded over and the rain drummed dully outside.

Dead don't eat food, they eat fear, and the parlor was built to give Belham a snack every time someone had to talk to him in it. Right now he was probably gorging on poor Lastsong. The gaitsbird had lost any sense of bravado, drawn up behind all her wings and just barely peeking out. Madrigal was on the opposite side of her, their scarf animate and coiled in the air like a serpent. Not that Lastsong needed to be threatened with decapitation-by-scarf to keep her frightened and entirely miserable.

To be fair. It was bad.

The room was packed. Besides Yhelm, Madrigal, and their prisoner/workfriend Lastsong, there was a cultivar in a neat little uniform hunched over a desk with a massive book and pen. The Minuteskeeper. Didn't belong to any specific guild, ultimately outranked everyone in the room. Actually a huge deal.

Standing off to the side, wearing a non-descript lawizard suit, the Arbitrator. Even more big a deal. A freeperson (??), rusty reds and yellows. No one in any of the guilds knew who she actually was. She wasn't even guild. She was hired on for things like this and disappeared when she was done. It was Yhelm's first time seeing her, and no one had ever told her about the eyes? The Arbitrator's eyes were wrong.

Several enforcers from other guilds, too, lined up behind Yhelm and helping to keep Lastsong from running and showing everyone how tough they were. Posturing. Yhelm and Madrigal were posturing the hardest, though, since this was their home turf. Yhelm had her rain-slicked leather jacket, standing on her hinds, umbrella point in the ground, shoulders squared. Barely moving. Very serious. Everyone behind her? Sloppy. No discipline. Thugs versus someone with a degree. She'd always win.

At Belham's desk, three guild bosses, in the same room, behind the same desk, crammed together in the same corner.

Belham Pio, in his red robe and ghostly flames. Yhelm's boss. Lastsong's boss. The one losing face from his underling attacking another guild member in a third guild's tavern.

"Right," Belham said. "I suppose we can get this formally started."

Jalis Salt-on-the-Shore Mondegreen was here, a tiny adversary with goat-fox stylings. She was short enough she had to stand on her chair to see over the desk, and she was standing on several books too, just to make sure she was taller than the other two. She was in layers of mantles and dresses that were apparently the fashion wherever she came from. Guild of Brick Layers and Ditch Diggers boss.

"Let's start! I'm not here for the decor! Or the refreshments. Are there refreshments?"

Graveflower 5054-13-LangberryFunerary had the third seat. He was a cultivar. His dour wooden face was framed in the petals of a massive black flower that grew out of his stem/chest like an oversized collar. Yhelm barely knew anything about him other than his being the boss of Guild of Lamp Lighters and Wood Cutters.

"… by the charter of 3497 we convene this trial to decide the punishment of gopaf Lastsong." The Minutekeeper's pen scratched as he spoke. "Does guild defending protest innocence?"

Belham laughed. Absolutely no one could beat him for evil laugh, Argent preserve. "No, Hartlight's ass no. The only reason I'm having you all drip rainwater on my parlor is so we all agree I'm punishing her squares and pairs."

"Very well," Graveflower said. "For the record," with a nod to the other cultivar, the Minutekeeper, "gopaf Lastong is accused of near-fatally injuring gollawc Pyrene and disrupting the business of gobladd tavern Betcher's Ales. Guilt is taken for, punishment pending. As aggrieved with priority, I place execution."

Lastsong ducked entirely behind the shields of her wings, as if that would save her. Fuck. Yhelm was starting to feel bad. Maybe this was a bad job. Maybe she didn't want mom to see her here. She pinged Madrigal through Love.

♥Hey I feel really bad about this,♥ she sent.

♥No kidding. They're always going to start high and bargain down though.♥

♥Right, sure,♥ Yhelm sent, ♥but do you ever get the feeling we're the bad guys?♥

Madrigal risked giving her a look over Lastsong's trembling head. ♥Your jacket says Trouble on the back.♥

♥Okay, sure, but--♥

Madrigal interrupted. ♥This is one of the unfun parts of the life. Meadoe's sake it's why my sisters are barely involved in guild.♥

♥Why are you? So involved in guild?♥ Yhelm sent. Outside of their Love, Belham and the other two bosses were debating Lastsong's life. Yhelm tried to not pay too close attention.

♥Money,♥ Madrigal sent. ♥It's not like I have a lot of skills.♥

♥That's not true.♥

♥Not a lot of legitimate skills. I have our family's martial style with the scarf, I have some Encore cred. I never learned something useful like they did. This is all I'm good for.♥

♥Don't listen to my mom. You're worth more than your marketability.♥

♥I'm dragging you down to bad places with me, Yhelm. You should really get out.♥

♥Uh. No. This is what your life is, Maddie, and I'm a part of your life. That's my choice. I'll fight you.♥

It was getting hard to focus on Maddie. The bosses' debate kept using terrible words and the other enforcers behind Yhelm were shuffling uncomfortably and the Minutekeeper's pen was zooming along at a speed the suggested he was using some kind of power. Lastsong was warbling. It was getting hard to pretend this away. This was happening. From what Yhelm could gather, the current sentence was torture, although undefined, and Jalis kept pressing for rape. Like, not even using a classy euphemism for it just outright saying someone should probably rape Lastsong.

Belham raised a bony hoof just as Jalis was describing cloacal tearing. "Arbitrator please."

The room went quiet and cold. The Arbitrator had just, been leaning on the wall, watching. Was she not blinking? Why did it feel like she wasn't blinking? Slowly, she stepped off the wall, and approached the desk. Her voice had a flavor like expensive but hard liquor. "There was no sexual assault in Lastsong's crime. Introducing sex in the punishment would require more expensive abstractive calculations. It's also disgusting."

Jalis snarled like she was going to say something but crossed her arms and huffed instead. Belham blew a raspberry with his weird ghost-fire tongue at her.

"You want balance restored," the Arbitrator continued, now owning the entire room with her quiet growl. "Pay her violence with violence."

Belham sighed. His entire body's flames flared like a bellows was in his chest. "Yes, we've got that much. The problem is how do you look at a beating and say 'Ah, now that's a good lawful beating.' How many times do I hit her with a tableleg to make up for it? Is her noggin off-limits? How many broken bones pays back someone trying to dig out your guts, yeah? What if I give her one a bit too hard am I in trouble now or can I sue these jerks for it?"

Okay the Arbitrator was definitely not blinking. Yhelm could feel the other enforcers around her deflate. "I'll quantify the harm caused to the victim and set her punishment to that value. Is anyone here a friend of the victim? Have them 'go at it.' That will be your emotional catharsis too. Feel the bad vibes fade away. All becomes… squares and pairs."

"Right right and what if when the friend has an accident and oops she's dead?" Belham asked.

"My Law will stop them from inflicting any harm in excess of what the victim suffered. They can 'let loose' without fear. When the limit's reached they'll be unable to harm her further."

Yhelm thought a second. <3Huh,<3 she sent to Madrigal. <3I wish Bodo was here now actually because I'd love to ask him if Law can do that?<3

♥Can it not?♥ Madrigal sent back.

♥Like, I'm not a lawizard. This is weird though. This all feels really weird. Doesn't her entire everything feel weird?♥

♥I guess?♥

♥… oh shoot is she a breacher? Because this is sounding like a fairy's idea of justice. What do you like, know about her?♥

♥Not much!? I've heard everything from people saying she secretly works for Flyhh to keep us in line, to she's a Law construct that went criminal. You know how guild likes to make stuff up.♥

"Yhelm," Belham Pio said, ordered, loudly. "That will be the deal then! What fun. Please take Lastsong and--who's doing the uh--"

Graveflower pointed to one of his enforcers. "Rebark."

An eager adversary who looked more like a rat than a dog skulked forward, shouldering into Yhelm as he passed.

Belham gave a 'sure whatever' wave of his bony hand. "Yhelm, go find a nice side room for Rebark to wail on Lastsong while the Arbitrator arbitrates non-arbitrarily. What good fun, justice is served."

♥Fuck,♥ Yhelm sent to Madrigal.

♥At least you're not Lastsong,♥ Madrigal sent back.

This sucked.

This probably sucked for Lastsong more than it did for Yhelm, but this still sucked.

Yhelm was now standing outside a heavy, closed door, with only the Arbitrator and Lastsong's crying for company. And the thuds. The dull, heavy thuds of someone taking their long, sweet, enjoyed pleasure in beating her. This was fucked up. Why was it taking so long? Was it taking so long? How much of a beating equalled being stabbed near-to-death?

Fuck. Yhelm couldn't lose her cool. She was ON and three guilds were watching. This wasn't even a pride thing, this was a the-example-of-what-happens-if-you-fuck-up-was-happening-in-the-room-behind-her thing. Fuck.

"So he can't accidentally kill her?" Yhelm asked, just to say something, just to make noise over the sound of Lastsong's crying.

The Arbitrator hadn't been paying attention to Yhelm. A Law-shaped scroll was burning in the air before her, flooding with writing that made Yhelm's eyes go funny when she looked at it. Apparently it was how she was keeping track of the quantifiable harm done to Lastsong. Which was weird. Which wasn't how Law ever worked from everything she'd read. This was closer to Authority? Maybe? She wished she could ask Bodo about this without telling him 'I know you think I'm some kind of villain, but I'm really not, but anyway my gang was beating someone up as punishment and--'

The Arbitrator was looking right at her now though. Her eyes. A freeperson should have round, maybe slightly horizontal, pupils. An adversary should have scattered, broken pupils. These were just. Narrow black slits, set in yellow. They weren't right.

"Ah," she said, her voice always hovering just below a growl. "Yes. My Law will stop s'ent Rebark from exceeding the established value of harm inflicted on s'ent Pyrene."

"Right," Yhelm agreed. She had to play up the role. She had to lose herself in the role. There was a terrible CRACK and Lastsong shrieked and no she couldn't stay cool how the fuck could she stay cool during this!? "What if he goes all out in one hit? Tries to kill her? Or what if he does something that isn't bad now but later she--"

"It cannot happen in any way other than how I allow it to happen."

"Right," Yhelm said, convinced in the way where you're sure the expert knows what they're talking about but you still can't imagine how it works like that.

It'd been anywhere from half a minute to three hours, so far, Yhelm guessed. The guilds were formed millenia ago as labor unions, as organizations to control the jobs staffed by the lowest classes, both to keep them from falling into true lawlessness and to allow them to bargain with power. They'd been an institution for millenia, in this city created the moment time began, they were an ancient tradition, thousands of perfectly normal people were guild and did zero crimes at all, and even the crimes the guild did were more navigating around loopholes, collective bargaining, smuggling, petty pickpocketing or theft, she knew the history and she kept telling herself it as she listened to someone she knew be beaten in increasingly deeper, wetter thuds that sounded so loud even with a door between her and it.

"Fuck," she groaned to herself. She couldn't keep her cool. She'd lost it completely. Bad Boy forgive her.

"You're really worried about her?" the Arbitrator asked.

Gah, fuck, she was staring right at Yhelm again. "Uh. She's. A work-friend. I know she fucked up big, but it's one thing to say that, and another to stand out here and listen to it."

The Arbitrator smiled. It was this, wrong, smile. She had too many teeth? "It is a shame. People can be very… thankless. 'The World was made in Love' the Rose Knights say? But here we are."

Yhelm took the risk. Anything was better than the noises behind them. "So. Do you, disapprove?”

The Arbitrator mm’d an agreement.

“Why do you do it then?"

The Arbitrator's smile widened. "Why do you do it then? Why do you put yourself through it? Why--with all the choices you have in life--did you choose this?"

"Fuck I mean that's…"

"Personal," the Arbitrator finished.

"I was gonna say the big question," Yhelm said. "My partner's guild. We were just talking about that. Ultimately, this is their life--it's mine too."

"Mm," the Arbitrator said. She turned back to the scroll.

No, no no, she couldn't go back to listening to hearing it. "Are you uh. So. You can stop me if I'm some dumb low-level enforcer overstepping my place, okay?"

"I'll hold you to that," the Arbitrator said quietly.

"… right. Okay. Yeah. So you're a breacher, right?"

The Arbitrator wasn't really doing anything, but she still froze up. She stopped breathing, and she actually, finally, blinked, which Yhelm realized she hadn't been doing at all. "You know. You aren't the first to think that. You're the first to say it to me? Directly?"

"Is it--" Yhelm juggled the words wrong and rude in her head and what came out was, "wrongde?"

The Arbitrator sighed. "The guilds summon me from the Moon when they have a case for me."

"Huh, all right. Is that, is that a secret you want me to keep?" Yhelm offered.

The Arbitrator smiled and this time it--it looked less wrong and just more kind of sad. "What was it that gave it away to you?"

"Uh. I mean. Well." Fuck. Maybe it would be better to listen to the sound of Lastsong--no, nevermind, she could hear it, nevermind. "Honestly it was your Law being weird."

"My Law…"

"Yeah. This… arrangement works well for what we need, I guess. But it's sort of. Do. Do you know how I mean? It's not something I could expect normal Law to do? Traditionally Law isn't just the enforcement of authority that's Authority they're both derived from Red Aiax but they're different, on an, elemental level. Laws differ in different countries and organizations but there's still primal Law and the only Law I know that is just, sheer enforcement of any kind of contract is, well, theoretically I don't have direct experience with it but I learned about it in college, is breacher Law."

The Arbitrator looked almost surprised, almost impressed, if any emotion at all could fit on her severe, mask-like face. "You aren't dumb. But was there really nothing else to hint at it?"

She couldn't really lie to a breacher that wasn't safe, right? "… well, your eyes are wrong. But if it wasn't for the Law… well, you could just have had weird eyes. So it's kind of both together that--"

"I don't," the Arbitrator started. She looked back to the scrolling Law in front of her. "I don't try very hard when the Flyhhnemonia guilds summon me. Everyone wants me to play the role of aloof… mysterious… powerful… dangerous stranger. I can lose myself in that role and… forget."

"I think I follow? When I’m back there with all the eyes on me it’s easy to be Guild Enforcer instead of, me. I guess for you if everyone's already expecting you're something weird, so it's easy to let your disguise--"

"No," the Arbitrator interrupted. "It's not letting a disguise slip. It's… forgetting to be myself. I don't always want to be a breacher. Sometimes I like to play pretend… and think I am a freeperson."

"Oh." What.

"You don't know how much I envy you. The world was made for you, Yhelm Machato," Yhelm scrambled to remember if her last name had been said or if the breacher had just pulled that out of the air, "and your gods are still living. We are an ill-fitting virus begot of a dead king who never lived to see the world's birth. The world was made in Love, for you, and for Lastsong, and all the rest of you. And look at how… frivolously you waste all of it. We breachers turn on one another because we were made to. Our Father is dead and he never secured a place for us but through deceit and spite, what else can we be? But you all. Your parents made this world out of Love for you and you summon invaders from before time to referee your torture of one another. Everywhere else on this world I pretend to be a freeperson and pretend--just, pretend as best as I can that I belong here. Because that's the real joke of it. All of you belong here--and you're just as bad as we are on the Moon. That's why I always come when the guilds summon me. It's so--hilarious!"

She said hilarious, but the Arbitrator's Very Wrong Eyes were wet with tears.

Oooh man, Yhelm thought. Smalltalk was a bad idea. Listening to Lastsong was probably better. "I--I don't think--"

"It's done," the Arbitrator said, suddenly, her voice falling back to that deeper, smoother, aloof, terrible thing it had been before. "That's the limit. He can't do anything else. S'ent Lastsong will want medical attention. There are some broken bones. Yhelm?"

"Y-yeah."

The Arbitrator's eyes were dry now, and they were--deeply wrong. There were too many of them. That was the problem. She had four—six—three—eyes. Had that always been the problem? They imposed over one another in a dizzying blur like Yhelm's glasses had gone real bad, real fast. "If you told anyone about this conversation, or my true nature, that would be a dumb low-level enforcer overstepping her place, and I will stop you."

Fuck. "Okay," Yhelm said quietly.

With a wave of her paw, the Arbitrator dismissed the Law construct hanging in the air. "I hope you figure out what you want from this world before it's too late for you. Please don't take it for granted."

"I'm--honestly doing my best," Yhelm said.

"Promise?" the Arbitrator asked.

You should probably never, ever promise anything to a breacher, Yhelm reflected, as she said, "Promise."

[saikenakoego]

Okay, lets do this

More cringe on the way

These guys are all from different canons of mine, each with their own little story titles. I will write them some day I swear.

For simplicity, I'll organize them here.

Yore & Lara: Yore, Lara.

Gleipnir: Wunjo.

Burn, My Crimson: Lieben, Willow, Manamea

OCTOBER 32ND: Sammy, Silver, Johnny

1. Which one of your OC's do you most often imagine sick? In what ways?

A: I guess it depends on what you mean by sick.

Willow here was born with a degenerative genetic disease that makes his teeth deformed, his pupils sharp and took away his vocal chords, so really, he could be considered sick practically all the time.

But other than that, none in particular I figure.

2. Which of them do you imagine injured in other ways?

A: Ooh boy. It really comes down to a competition between

↘️↘️↘️↘️↘️ These two ↙️↙️↙️↙️↙️

Sammy, the first one, has basically zero sense of self preservation. And Yore, the younger one, lives in a place where she's basically considered the anti-christ.

Naturally, both of them get injured quite often. But really, Sammy edges out on the account that she's a vampire, so she can essentially handle more punishment. She'll just regenerate it anyway.

Though to be fair, Yore's is much, much more disturbing. Sometimes I feel like apologizing to her for the kind of life I gave her.

3. Who do you put through most emotional turmoil?

A: For the first time, Sammy is the least likely answer. Good for her and her vampire genes that make her unable to feel anything.

Its hard to choose. Basically all of them go through their own brand of personal turmoil.

But if I had to choose... Probably Yore again? Poor girl has it rough.

4. Which OC has been tortured? Through what means?

A: Sammy gets the worst of it, at least physically, even if she can't feel pain nor fear. I don't wanna go too much into detail about it, but one of the mildest instances was having her head blown off with her best friend's revolver.

5. Which of them has the worst luck?

A: Yore and its not even close.

Born looking exactly as society's stereotype of what the devil looks like? Check.

To a bunch of individuals considered witches and who are persecuted? Check.

Abandoned at birth? Check.

Being raised by a complete stranger? Check.

Growing up as a doormat due to her adoptive grandma's stigmas, insecurities and guilt? Check.

Having said adoptive grandmother gouge out her eyes to give her any semblance of survival chance? Check.

Being able to hear the souls of other living beings all the time without stopping? Check.

Living as a blind person in a place full of bottomless pits that's also eternally frozen? Check.

All of the above plus having her only semblance of a family mysteriously disappear and having to go on a journey to find the only person in the world who would take her in and care for her? Make that a check.

I could go on and on, but that would make this too long. But at least, she has Lara.

6. Who goes through the most relationship conflicts?

A: Lieben, with Silver being a close second. The only reason why Silver gets left behind is because most of his issues are one-sided.

But Lieben.

Clueless. Bloated ego, low confidence. Lack of social skills. Dislike of change. Sensitive yet apathetic. A prodigy, yet very lazy. Hedonistic. Good natured but egocentric. A recipe for disaster. Eventual girlfailure.

7. Who'd you put into most into stressful situations or other drama?

A: A classic.

8. Who ends up in survival situations the most? How do they fair in them?

A: All of them kinda do. But if I were to categorize them, it would be something like this;

Last place, Yore and Lara. Sure, Yore gets abused a lot, but not usually to a lethal degree. Once Lara comes into play, she becomes the safest girl in the entire world.

Third place, probably Wunjo. She travels in the wilderness a lot, but due to the nature of her magic, survival's never really an issue. If anything, she's the threat.

The face of a girl touched by the arcane as she burns you with eternal fire because you didn't give her your book.

Second place goes to Lieben and her party. They're swords-for-hire, so they tend to run into monsters and bandits often. Their world's power level, if you can call it that, is probably the most overblown out of all my stories, so they tend to handle it pretty well most of the time.

Magic systems sure are a blessing.

And first place goes to the October 32nd crew. Sammy, Johnny and Silver. Their world is a little more realistic than the rest, so they tend to face more lethal threats. That would make Johnny (middle) the ultimate winner, seeing as he's pretty much a thin, human boy whose only power is thrombocytopenia.

Me and the boys looking for

Demons

9. Has any of them had to be saved from the brink of death? Were there any consequences after?

A: Another tie between Sammy and Yore.

Despite being a vampire, Sammy almost died after losing most of her blood. The fact that she was purposely starving herself did not help. But there were no repercussions for her afterwards. Regeneration factors sure are a blessing in disguise.

In her case, Yore almost got stoned to death by two kids literally on the first day of her journey. A wandering caravan found her bleeding out with a serious concussion. Surprisingly, they took care of and looked after her. After a week, she woke up. The only consequence was that she couldn't remember what happened, and her wound took a long time to heal. Unconscious repression of memories is also a blessing in disguise.

10. Has any of them had to be revived/brought back to life? How did this affect them?

A: So, long story short - Lieben has essentially All The Powers. But this comes at the price of her soul being practically scattered across the entirety of existence. Any universe, any multiverse, any dimension and reality, Lieben's soul is somehow tied to it.

This makes it so she's essentially connected to EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ANYWHERE ANY TIME ALL AT ONCE. And given that existence in her story is infinite (infinite number of dimensions, infinite realities, infinite universes, infinite timelines, all of which are infinite in size), she's technically capable of anything.

But she's all of this unknowingly and unwillingly. And these higher states of being are basically too much for her brain and body to handle, leading to a disconnection between her body, mind and soul that she experiences as dissociation.

Think of it as her blanking out, forgetting things, becoming hyperaware of her existence, funky dreams, etc. Her mortal mind is unable to comprehend it.

With all of this in mind, she once faced against what's essentially a demigod with her weak, mortal body, mortal mind, and just a shard of her soul.

Of course, she got whooped, and died in the process. But given as her life is tied to existence itself, her soul manifested as a skeleton covered in flames, blasted the evil demigod with a single ember containing the energy of a star, and then regenerated without remembering a thing.

Afterwards, all she felt was horror at the realization of her overkill and confusion over her own identity, and whether or not the voices she hears during her dissociative episodes are just hallucinations, or maybe something else.

In my own head, whenever she dies physically she'll just regenerate, as the universe literally refuses to let her die. And if she's erased, she'll simply come back in another universe, another timeline, another dimension, etc. And if the sheer concept of her is erased, she'll return in the past, in the memories of her enemies or friends. And even if the entire concept of information is destroyed, if the universe becomes imaginary, nonexistant, she'll eventually resurface once more. Because the nature of her infinity makes it so all that was has always been, what isn't will be and has been, and what is will eventually cease to be.

Did I also mention how she's got a soul contract with a high demon that buffs basically everything about her?

Basically she's a cosmic horror. A blessing, or a curse.

11. Who is afraid the most? How does this affect them?

A: Willow. He's pretty skittish. But who isn't at one point in their life? When it counts, he has the courage to come through, and that's what matters.

12. What kind of health repercussions have they experienced through intense stress? How do they manage them?

A: The ones with the most health issues would be Willow and Johnny.

Willow tends to suffer from anxiety a lot, while Johnny suffers often from anemia under extreme stress. Both of them just kinda hope for the best when it happens, but Johnny is always prepared with bandaged and other first-aid tools.

13. Who cries the most often? What are the usual causes?

A: Yore's the biggest crybaby. She's too kind and empathetic, so naturally, she's also quite sensitive.

Usually, her tears come at the pain or suffering of someone else, rather than her own. Despite being a doormat, she's also the biggest sweetheart.

14. How do your OC's cope?

A: List time

Lieben - Escapism. Her entire character more or less.

Willow - Seeking comfort from others. He's the second biggest crybaby behind Yore. Very touch-starved.

Manamea - Self reflection and physical exercise.

Yore - Crying. And hugging. Mostly Lara.

Lara - Physical violence. Yore has to remind her to keep it to inanimate objects. Almost killed a baby once.

Wunjo - She's always on cloud 9. But if she had to cope, it would probably be through understanding. She's a very logical person.

Sammy - Vengeance. Given as how rage is the only emotion she can feel anymore, its not like she has any other option.

Johnny - Logic. Very similar to Wunjo in that regard, but a lot more cold and rigid.

Silver - Denial. He's kind of bullheaded.

15. To cap off, what kind of hurt/comfort scenarios do you put your OC's in?

A: Lieben, Willow and Manamea - Friendship and fellowship. Their dynamic is very much that of a team made up of best friends that sometime misunderstand and hurt each other, but love each other nonetheless.

Yore & Lara - Understanding and affection. Despite them being quite literally polar opposites, they depend on each other a lot and consider themselves partners. Maybe even for life...?

Wunjo - Family and self-love. Understanding what it means to be human and love someone else.

Johnny, Sammy, Silver - Coming of age and romance. The usual teen stuff, but with paranormal elements involved. Growing and understanding each other, while trying to figure out yourself in the process.

BONUS:

VERY rough sketches of Lieben's many designs over the years.

Torturing your ocs ask game :)

(Delightful, I know. But we all do it sometimes)

1. Which of your ocs do you most often imagine sick? In what ways?

2. Which of them do you most imagine injured in other ways?

3. Who do you put through the most emotional turmoil?

4. Which oc has been tortured? Through what means?

5. Which of them has the worst luck?

6. Who goes through the most relationship conflicts? (applies to any relationships)

7. Who do you put most into stressful situations or other drama?

8. Who ends up in survival situations the most? How do they fair in them?

9. Has any of them had to be saved from the brink of death? Were there any consequences after?

10. Has any of them had to be revived / brought back to life? How did this affect them?

11. Who is afraid the most? How does this effect them?

12. What kind of health repercussions has your oc experienced through intense stress? How do they manage them?

13. Who cries the most often? What are the usual causes?

14. How does your oc cope?

15. To cap off what kind of hurt/comfort scenarios do you put your oc in?

This can be about canon story events or simply rotating scenarios for fun!

[sifahfawziah]

Book Identity

Title : The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz

Author : L. Frank Baum

Publisher : PT. Gramedia Pustaka Utama

Publication Year : 2017

Genre : Fiction, Adventure

Number of pages : 184

Price : Rp. 59,000

The Wizard Of Oz

This book was originally published in 1900. It tells about a girl who gets lost in the magical land of OZ with her dog, Toto. She meets a good witch with some Munchkins. The good witch gave the girl directions to meet the Wizard of Oz to back home in Kansas, by following the yellow road. On the girl's journey, she met some friends Scarecrow, Tin woodman, and Crowdly lion. Who also decides to meet with the Wizard of Oz to ask for a request. Many challenges faced them during the journey to meet the Wizard of Oz.

*************

I was really interested in this book, and it turned out to be very inspiring. I saw this Wizard of Oz story through a movie, I think the storyline in the movie is more complex than in the book. The storyline it has in the book is full of imagination that is very suitable for children to enjoy. At first I thought The Wizard of Oz was a story that would only be enjoyed by children, but this story is perfect for adults to enjoy as well.

Many elements and scenes are not found in the movie The Wizard of Oz. As on the pages 54 -56 as they crossed the ditch and the river. The scene depicts good cooperation. Although each of them has flaws, without realizing it they have done something that they think is a flaw. And also, on this pages, I can feel the progression made by each of the characters. Like the Tin woodman who cries as he accidentally steps on a small beetle (page 50) . How can someone who doesn't have a heart crying when he finds out he has killed a small beetle?

“This will serve me a lesson,” said he, “to look where i step. For if i should kill another bug or beetle i should surely cry again, and crying rusts my jaws so that i cannot speak”

In this scene, the Tin Woodman teaches the importance of being more careful when stepping. Additionally, the Tin Woodman briefly forbids the Cowardly Lion from killing the forest animals for Dorothy's dinner. This scene shows the progress made by the Tin Woodman, who has no heart.

“Don’t ! please dont,” begged the Tin Woodman, “ I should cry certainly weep if you killed a poor deer, and then my jaws would rust again”

And the cowardly lion also tried to faces his fears, boldy jumping the ditch to reach the Emerlad Kingdom

"I am terribly afraid of falling, myself," said the Cowardly Lion, "but I suppose there is nothing to do but try it. So get on my back and we will make the attempt."

Even Scarecrow can provide a solution with his own brain to give the idea of cutting down tree as their access to cross deep trenches.

So they sat down to consider what they should do, and after serious thought the Scarecrow said:

"Here is a great tree, standing close to the ditch. If the Tin Woodman can chop it down, so that it will fall to the other side, we can walk across it easily."

"That is a first-rate idea," said the Lion. "One would almost suspect you had brains in your head, instead of straw."

In the story of the Wizard of Oz, many life lessons are contained in several scenes. This book teaches how important cooperation is to achieve common desires, support each other, help each other, and teaches how important the role of the family in life is. This book conveys the message that everything we need is actually already in us, there is no need for the help of others or external parties. The picture of the emerlad city that is told, it is easy to imagine how beautiful and colorful the country is. Maybe if I read this book as a child, I would be annoyed with Dorothy for preferring to live in Kansas full of gray color.

L. Frank Baum's writing style is very imaginative and easy to understand, each character has their own unique characteristics and ambitions that make readers easily remember them. Dorothy herself is portrayed as a brave and kind-hearted girl and the other characters, although created with a somewhat stereotypical, can bring humor in each scene.

The weakness of this book is that there are several scenes that are inappropriate to be shown for children. For example, when Tin Woodman tells that he accidentally cut off a part of his body, the Eastern Witch fell on Dorothy's house, and killed the Western Witch. I think the scene shown is very dark and scary.

I highly recommend this book, This book also teaches us about the power of individual choice and action. Dorothy and her friends are not passively waiting for a miracle to happen, they are actively taking action to achieve their goals. It teaches that we have the power to change our own destiny through our choices and actions. This book also teaches us to be tolerant, all the characters created have different weaknesses, and they can accept each other. it also teaches about strength and hope. Even though they face obstacles, the characters in this book can be optimistic in making their wishes come true.

[igotanidea]

Lost: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x reader

Summary: Red Hood make a mess and leaves Jason to deal with aftermath. Requested by angst lover.

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) version of this plot is here.

A/N: reader is older than Jason, member of the old Titans, Jason's only ally when he was still Robin. There;s no romantic relationship between them, more like an older sister - younger brother vibe.

„Jason?”

„Yn?” former hero, now self-appointed Red Hood stopped and turned around to the voice of the only person who could made him do it. “what are you doing here?” he put the gun down and took a step towards the girl.

“I could ask you the same question, Jay. Or should I say Red Hood? Because that is what you are now, huh? A villain? How does it feel?”

“Yn, listen to me….”

“No, I won’t. I’m done with all the bullshit and playing around. Just because you had a fight with Bruce or Dick or whoever, I don’t care. It does not give you any ground to terrorize Gotham. Do you even see yourself? What happened?”

“Titans happened! You all are the very same! Always making me look like an outcast! I was done with it! Being put aside!”

“I never put you aside!”

“Didn’t you?” he smirked mischievously “really? You go round listening to Grayson like a lost puppy you are. Never had an opinion of your own.”

“Jason…..”

“Look at me and tell me I’m lying. You let him pull all the strings, order you around and you blindly follows. Wasn’t it like that during the old Titans days as well? I wonder why is that?”

“Don’t you dare…..”

“oh, wait…. “ he titled his head and tapped his chin in fake reverie “it’s because you are soooo in love with him, isn’t it?”

“Shut the fuck up!” she was angered like never before. And all because Jason Todd was right. He saw right through her, exposing all her insecurities and worries. Always had this effect on her since, whether they both liked it or not, they were a lot alike. She might have been older than him, but she saw a lot of herself in the boy taken by batman as a replacement. He was right about the old Titans. It was a team but she never felt like she truly belonged. Doing all she could to get respect and acknowledgment but being left behind on everything. It always felt like she wasn’t good enough despite all her skills and abilities. And Dick…. Well, better not to talk about it.

“Oh, you poor thing” he mocked “always put in the second place. Tell me, how was it like to watch him date Barbs? And Dawn? And now, that he clearly takes interest in Starfire? How was it like when he was constantly putting you aside. And still does, doesn’t he?” he shrugged knowing well enough what effect this words would have on her.

“That is enough!!” she jumped forward trying to tackle him to the ground but he was just too fast. Red Hood grabbed her arm and twisted it, making her gasp in pain of a broken bone.

“You are pathetic.” He hissed towering over her, while she winced on the ground “full of fear. Look at me, I finally got rid of that! I’m invincible, everyone’s at my mercy! I even got you, the famous H/N down.”

“Are you proud of yourself then?”

“What?”

“Like you said, you used to be an underdog, so how does it fell to raise to the top of the world?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he squinted “don’t turn this thing around.”

“I am not. You used to have family, maybe a bit broken and messed up, but still. What do you have now, hm? Mr. fearless?”

“Don’t you have enough pain for once?” in a blink of an eye he was crouching next to her grabbing her chin in an iron-clad grasp “you are clearly masochistic playing with me like that.” He put more force into the it, making sure to leave a bruise.

“You turned into a monster” she hissed, not able to hold her tongue and not caring about the pain. “Face the facts and ….”

“Will you shut up!?” he lifted her up by a throat making her choke and fight for air “this is bullshit! This city! This fucking town! They need someone to put order to it!”

“And…. And…. You think…. That is ….. what you are doing?” she panted, her legs dangling above the ground in futile attempt to get some footing.

“YES! The fuck yes!”

“Well …. Maybe…. “ it was getting impossible to get any air into the lungs “ look around you…..” she was seconds away from passing out.

“Why can’t you see it?!” he yelled “they will abandon you as well! You mean nothing to them! You hear me?! Nothing! You never did!”

“That is not true….” She whispered, her face pale like never before. It was even more terrifying given the fact she was illuminated by the blue neon light, reminding him of the dead people he saw while fighting alongside Batman. That memory slowly crept inside his mind making him realize what he was doing but before he could react a voice from behind made Jason drop the girl and release her from the grasp.  

“JASON!” an escrima stick flew in his direction making him loose balance. Nightwing and Conner came for the rescue and were prepared for the fight but Red Hood just looked at them, then turned around and focused his gaze on the girl, who was now clutching on her throat breathing heavily and  without taking any further action run from the place.

“ You’ll see…..” he interposed towards the girl “you’ll see it soon….”

*** A few hours later YN woke up in one of the many rooms in Wayne manor. Memories of what happened and harsh words of her former friend still fresh and painful in her mind. She could not clearly say when Jason became so violent. Maybe it was after his fall? After the failed mission he was so dead set on succeeding in? Anyway, it did not give him any right to turn this anger and pain as a weapon aimed at her. The thing was, she was always on his side. Sometimes, standing against the rest of the team. Even when Hank, Dawn and Donna got mad at her for defending him. Even when Dick called her crazy and irresponsible for protecting Jason. And now, he was a villain in the story. The worst part, he was hurting not only her, not only Gotham but also himself. He just didn’t realize yet, how destructive burning the bridges was.

“Yn? Are you all right?” Conner stood up from the nearby chair.

“Besides a broken bone and a few mental bruises I am fine. I will be fine. Thanks for coming to the rescue, Superboy.” She smiled lightly and the younger boy reciprocated, looking at the ground sheepishly.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just glad I could do something good”. Conner was with the Titans for a while now, but he was still worried about his darker part, coming from Lex Luthor, so every time he did something positive it made him shy.

“You are a good person, Conner. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”

“Thank you, YN. Do you…. “ he hesitated scratching his head

“What, Conner?”

“do you want to talk about what happened? I don’t really know this Jason guy, but wasn’t he a part of the team? Isn’t it a hero turned villain situation?” there was almost invisible glance of fear in his eyes.

“It won’t happen to you.” she simply said squeezing his hand reassuringly “Jason…. got lost. I feel like it was partially my fault. I think I let him get lost and ….”

“It’s not your fault….” Third voice came into the discussion and Connor and YN turned their gaze towards Dick who walked into the room “I pushed him away too far, should have listened to you when you warned me about the consequences…”

“Not the first time, right? Guess you will never learn to listen to the smarter people” she smirked

“Good to see your injury did nothing to your sense of humor. Conner, can you give us a minute please. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Sure. I will wait outside, but. …. I’d really like to talk to you more, YN.”

“Won’t leave you hanging” she smiled and the boy left “he’s worried he might turn into a villain too” she sighed looking at Dick. “we can’t let it happen. We mustn’t repeat that mistake.”

“We won’t. But speaking of villain…..”

“What happened?” she propped herself up on the healthy arm, getting nervous.

“Jason wants to meet you.”

“When?”

“You cannot be serious YN” Dick scoffed “after everything he did you still considering going?”

“Where?” she turned deaf ear toward his words

“YN!” Nightwing was appalled by her words “You are not going anywhere!”

“You won’t tell me what I can and cannot do!” she spat, remembering Jason’s words “sorry…” she mumbled soon after

“Is that how you feel? Really? Like I’m ordering you? Yn…. I’m just worried about you.”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry.”

“What did he tell you?” Dick became suspicious “was he trying to play with your mind? YN, you know you are an important member of the team, right? It would not be the same without you….”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes not feeling in her best capacity to deal with this matter now “we can discuss this later, we have more urgent things to take care of. Tell me the details.”

“You really want to go? You are hurt, you need rest and healing.”

“Dick.” She warned him.

“Fine. But you can’t go alone. I will go with you. Or you can take Gar, he is the second person after you to have any faith in Jason left. “

“Dick. It’s my problem to solve, all right? I appreciate your effort, but I’m going by myself. Hoping for the best.”

“You have always been too stubborn for your own good.”

“Details, please, Nightwing.”

*** Of course Jason picked the abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere for a secret meeting in the middle of the night. Darkness, quietness and remoteness of the place fitting well with his new imagine of Red Hood. There was not a soul around and even her quiet footsteps echoed through the entire building. It made her even more vary of the surroundings. He could be hiding anywhere and despite her high hopes she was prepared for everything, for any potential danger from his side.

“Jason!” she stopped in the middle of the space looking around “I’m here.  I’m alone. Stop playing hide and seek and come out.”

“You came…” a dark figure emerged from the shadows in front of her “wasn’t sure if you will, after what I said. “

“What you said?” she scoffed “I don’t care about the words…” that was a lie on her part “but all you did…..”

“For what it’s worth I am sorry. For everything. Mostly for hurting you…. I.. I don’t know what’s happening to me….”

“Is that what you said to Hank before bombing him?” the memory made the boy freeze. “is that what you are going to do to me?”

“YN….” He took his helmet off and she saw tears and pain in his eyes “you know I would never….”

“I don’t know a thing anymore, Jason. I don’t know if you are telling the truth or playing  a part in Crane game. How can I tell the difference?”

“I need your help, YN. You are the only one who…..”

“Right, now you see it.” She shook her head “why didn’t you notice it earlier? We could have prevented so much damage, Jason.”

“I’m sorry….” He looked straight at her “please….”

“Jason….” she sighed

“Please, YN. I want out…. Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know. Not now, but maybe in the future…..”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. We still got damage control to do.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Of course you will, you have no other option. And there’s one condition.”

“What?”

“You will stay down.  Titans won’t know about you helping”

“So, I’m a dirty secret now. Grayson will figure it out in no time.”

“I don’t care. It’s not about him. I’m making my own choices. Look, Jay, I want to help you and even if you will never be a titan again….” she shook her head again and sighed deeply “I still feel like I owe you this much. So are you game?”

“You’re the only person who could make me, so yes, let’s safe this fucking city.” @pinksirensong @somest1

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal (4)

Am I doing this right? I mostly do write this when I am between the state of sleep and awareness. Hope you enjoy this.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1) (Part 3)

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PART 4

Marinette came to a dungeon cell with two other prisoners. One of them was awake and he looked vaguely familiar. The other had an ugly red helmet that didn’t help with the headache she had.

“Do you know where we are?” She asked the handsome stranger with beautiful green eyes, her throat a little dry.

Wait. Handsome?

No bad Marinette. Don’t fall for fellow prisoners, no matter how cute he looks. Oh Kwamis, she was already screwed.

He still hadn’t replied. Maybe he didn’t understand French. She tried to ask again in another language before her enhanced hearing picked up the sound of footsteps. She faked unconsciousness. Later, she heard the iron door open. She looked through the tiniest slits of her eyes she could muster while the two held a staring/glaring match. Oh shit, that’s the fame Talia Al Ghul, daughter of Ra’s, head of the League of Shadows, and the boy she was glaring at had some resemblance to her, so he must be her son, Dennis? Daniel? Damon?

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

Ohh..Damian. Where had she heard that name before?

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Ouch, that hurts. Well, Damian, just because I forgot your name does not mean you can call me a little girl. I can also kill you very easily and painfully.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Red Helmet, Jason, is officially not going on her hit list for his atrocious fashion choices. But that red monstrosity still needs to go.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Marinette felt her hair being yanked. A little pain was expected but the really sharp claws digging into her scalp was not. Making her cry and tear up.

”I am so sorry, kit.” Plagg whispered in the kwami language, loosening his claws.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Damian growled out.

Geez, thanks for the compliment, it’s not like you ever had a tiny cat dig its claws into your scalp out of surprise. (Damian once had a kitten thrown at his head and if he knew about Plagg, he would have been sympathetic.) Marinette started begging for mercy, hoping they would buy the helpless girl out of the suit that is ill-suited for the job she had been chosen for and had no idea on how to escape.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.”

Oh kwamis, what did she ever do to have such a picky groom? The more he insults her, the less she wants to be married to him.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection."

Great, another reason to stop her mother from killing a senile old man.

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

So that’s where she heard it from. The boy was the son of the daughter of a guy who leads a secret order of assassins and a man that owns a multi-million business. How even did a billionaire meet an assassin, ends up in bed with her and lives? Something to think about for later. She quieted down her sobs, (beat that acting, Rossi) kept her voice low to hatch out a plan with Plagg in the kwami language while the mother-son duo bickered.

“Hey, Plagg before you go, you think I can do that thing, the one which your one of your past holders from Japan can do.”

“You have a lot of potential for destruction but you have not used the ring for a long time yet so I am not sure.”

“I will give it a go anyways. Nothing to lose after all. See you later, Plagg.” Marinette smiled, one that drove fear into the hearts of even the bravest of people. Plagg returned it, already loving the new Guardian before zipping out of the cell to do some scouting. Using the enhanced strength the French superheroine got from prolonged use of the Miraculous, she yanked the chains of the walls and wrapped them around Talia’s neck, cutting off her air supply.

The League of Assassins thought that they could kidnap her and get away with it. But they were no match for the daughter of Sabine Cheng, the deadly Blue Reaper. A high ranking member from the group of assassins and mercenaries called the Guild of Night, who had semi-retired. Kidnapping her was a bad move to make as it meant they had declared war on the Guild, despite the reason behind her abduction having a completely different intention.

She whispered as such to the older woman in her tight grip, making sure the League would know how much they had fucked up. After dropping the limp body, she took a deep breath and tried channeling some of her energy for what she was about to do.

Well, here goes nothing.

She breathed out on the shackles, turning it to rust.

Success!

She introduced herself as Lady and concentrated the energy from before into her hand, forming inky black orbs of destruction in order to free her fellow captives. She felt a little drained from doing magic out of the suit and tried not to show it. Plagg returned, informing her of where the Ra’s and the Pits were. She grinned at the thought of showing old Ra’s who the boss is and made sure he regretted ever messing with her. She explained about Plagg as vaguely as she can, no need to let anyone know about the miraculous than necessary. Sure her plan sounds insane but the boys don’t know who they were with.

She would worry about that curse after she got out of Nanda Parbat. Although she could probably find something in the grimoire to reverse it, she was still an amateur at magic so it was best to have a professional to take care of it. Marinette didn’t want to be with such an asshole, no matter how striking he looks in those regal robes.

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Picking off the League assassins, one by one was easy especially in her transformed state. She hadn’t appraised her suit properly but from what she had seen, it wasn’t like Chat Noir’s leather get-up. She was armoured in vital areas and her colour scheme was mainly black with green accents. There were vials that were probably poisons and pouches which she decided to look at later. She still had a long braid as a tail from her brief stint as Lady Noire and she wondered why her suit was different. While hiding in a niche she found, she called the bakery via the comm in one of her various pouches.

“Hello?”

“Papa, it’s me, Marinette. Do you know where Maman is?”

“She went out of Paris, talking about how this League must pay. I think she is meeting up with several of her old friends. Are you alright, my little blossom? I know you can take care of yourself but I worry.” The relief in Tom’s voice was palpable. However, she was right and the Guild was going to war against the League. Marinette was adored by nearly everyone in the Guild due to her strangely bubbly and cheery personality in the harsh and brutal lifestyle.

“I am fine, Papa. Did Maman use the Horse to leave? And how are my friends?” She knew they might be in a panic after her disappearance.

“I think she did. I didn’t see Kalki when I went to feed the kwamis. Your friends panicked when they found out you were kidnapped. But they are fine now, mostly worried about you. Took care of some akumas and senti monsters by themselves. I think your fencer friend, Kagami, knows more about the League than she lets on.” Of course, she does. Her mother was a member of the Guild before being blinded due to a mission. Kagami and her actually first met during a reunion party of sorts.

“Thank you, Papa. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up and dialed the personal phone number her mother uses that only Marinette and her father knows about. She waited for the call to connect, trying to think of ways to stop her mother from storming into the League’s base of operation.

“Maman, it’s me. I know you want to attack the League right this minute. But I have a better plan. Can you get Tikki’s earrings from Alix? We can use them and the ring to destroy the Lazarus Pits. Make them really angry.” She peeked out of the niche she was hiding in. She had been there for a while and needed to move to gain some grounds.

“Where are you? And are you okay?” Panic and worry filled her usually composed mother’s voice.

“I am somewhere in Nanda Parbat and I am fine. I was nearly married off to Talia’s son but I am not now. I think.” Marinette replied. Better to rip that band-aid off before she showed up with her would-have-been-husband. She jumped out of the niche and looked

“Kalki, Full Gallop. Okay, we will talk about the ‘nearly married’ part later. What was this plan to destroy the Lazarus Pits?” Sabine thought she was already used to Marinette’s brand of craziness that was her normal but apparently, not.

“I am currently on my way there. Plagg said we need Tikki to get rid of them. Since the League pissed me off and by extension you and the rest of the Guild, I thought our first move against them is to destroy the Pits and a trail of bodies. By the way, can you get some cheese for Plagg?” Marinette ran through the halls, knocking out some poor sod with a whack on the head.

Silence. She thought Sabine had hung up when-

“Voyage. Alix, where are you? We need Tikki for one of Marinette’s insane plans. And Marinette, stay safe, sweety, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“Bye, Maman. See you there.”

Marinette turned another corner, the last one before the path that leads to the entrance where the Lazarus Pits were. She only managed to find it with Plagg’s voice in her head, whispering directions and Tikki’s luck. Unfortunately, the luck ran out because the entrance had a lot of guards who had spotted her.

Crap.

She hoped her mother would get here soon. Thankfully, being transformed gave her a boost and would help her to hold her ground for a while.

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Damian and Red Hood followed the trail of unconscious bodies and sounds of fights, trying to find Lady. Damian was impressed at the level of her skills to defeat many of the League’s assassins although he could probably do better. They relied on his memory to find the Lazarus Pits which was their best bet to finding her as she claimed to be able to destroy them. If Lady possessed such powers, they must find out whether she is a threat to the world or not. And also break the infernal curse they have.

Red Hood was silent mostly. He made a few jabs about how kick ass his ‘bride’ was and how the current Robin should not let her get away. Damian tried really hard not to just maim his adopted brother and also ignore that little fluttering in his chest that happened every time they saw an unconscious assassin left behind by Lady. The sounds of fighting got louder as they got nearer to the entrance. They turned the final corner to see Lady fighting against the guards who outnumbered her. But she seemed to be doing fine against them. Mostly.

One had slipped through her defenses and nearly stabbed her in the back if it weren’t for Damian grabbing one of Red Hood’s guns and shooting a rubber bullet to the neck. He jumped into the fight, grabbing the fallen assassin’s sword and taking out the knife he got from his mother. Jason joined in too, not going to let the two teens have all the fun.

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“Thanks for the save, Al Ghul but I don’t know why you bothered when me being dead would solve your curse problem.” Lady said as the guards laid around them and they tried to catch their breath.

“It’s Wayne. I go by Wayne these days. Being an Al Ghul is not something I learned to be proud of. And as much as I don’t want this curse, your death is not worth that price.” he replied, “Although, I have to wonder why you would choose to die rather than live.”

She chuckled, “Okay, Wayne, to answer your question. Petty teenage drama makes death much more preferable. On top of that, I have responsibilities that I was practically forced into for doing one little act of kindness.” Her tone was joking but there was a touch of bitterness in it. It made Damian want to find out what caused it. Red Hood looked at her in concern. Lady went down the stairs, ignoring their reactions to her words. They followed her, not wanting to lose sight of her again.

The Lazarus Pits emitted a green glow that lit up the cave and cast strange shadows on the walls. At the edge of the glowing toxic green waters was a woman in dark blue clothing and strangely enough wearing sunglasses. Strapped to her sides were two Dao, ancient Chinese swords. She wore a vindictive expression on her face as she stood staring at the green lake, likely to kill anyone who gets in her way. Damian didn’t recognize the woman as part of the League but taking no chances, he got into a fighting stance and Hood did the same. Lady calmly approached the woman. He reached out to grab her to stop her suicidal nature when she shocked him by speaking to the blue-clad assassin in French,

“Hey, Maman, sorry I am late. I had a little trouble with the guards upstairs. You have Tikki?”

Lady’s mother rushed to hug her, “灵儿 (líng er), I am just glad you are alright. I knew you could handle yourself.”

How the hell did Lady’s mother get to the Lazarus Pits faster than them and snuck past several vigilant guards? Before Damian could question further, a red blur appeared and went to Lady’s face, hugging her cheek. It appeared to be the same size as Plagg but was red, looked like a bug and had a black dot on its forehead.

“Oh, Marinette, you are alright. I was so worried when your mother showed up, saying you were kidnapped and needed my earrings to escape.” Unlike Plagg’s nasally voice, her voice was sweet and shrill.

So, my bride’s name is Marinette. Such a unique name for an intriguing girl.

Wait what?

Wayne, stop thinking such ridiculous notions. That is probably the curse working. Resist against it. He will not be ensnared in the traps of such magic. He hoped that the curse will be reversed before he turns and act like those fools in Grayson’s idiotic shows or Todd’s ‘secret’ romance novels.

“I am fine now. See,” reassured Lady, “We actually need you and Plagg to reverse the Lazarus Pits to what it was before someone made the wish that resulted in them in the first place. Oh, I almost forgot. Plagg, claws in.”

Green light flashed, leaving Lady in her wedding robes (which actually flatter her body. Shit. Think of something else. Drake with a smug superior smile that needs to be wiped off his face. Grayson and his plans for ‘family bonding’) and Plagg to reappear.

“Cheese.” whined the cat-like kwami(?) to which the older woman held out a brown bag that smelled and made Plagg perk up in delight. He proceeded to open the bag, taking out a slice of stinky cheese, muttering about the greatness of camembert.

Todd cleared his throat and asked in English, “Umm...Pixie as much as your reunion is touching. Who’s the new lady?”

“Oh Right, sorry. Well, Red Hood, this is my mother, the Blue Reaper of the Guild of Night. Maman, this is Red Hood and the one next to him is my husband-to-be and Talia’s Spawn, Damian Wayne.”

Lady introduced them, also in English. Damian stilled in fear, recognizing the name. The Blue Reaper nearly became his mother-in-law. She was famous for her efficiency and ruthlessness. And gained her nickname from the blue clothing she often wore as she killed her targets. His eyes also widened at how his grandfather had gone a little too far now by kidnapping the Reaper’s daughter. There were other organizations that could possibly take down the League if it weren’t for the somewhat truce between Ra’s and the other leaders. The Guild was one of them and having the Lazarus Pits to revive their soldiers made the League a little more powerful. But if what the mother-daughter duo were planning succeeded, then the League was going to have one of its most deadly wars in its history and would probably never recover from.

“Tikki, Plagg, you guys ready?” asked Lady.

“Yes, Guardian.” They both replied and emitted a blinding red and green light which Damian shielded his eyes from. When it died down, the Lazarus Pits no longer glowed a toxic green and looked… like normal hot spring water.

“Oh. I wished I could see Ra’s face when he finds out.” Lady laughed. Plagg and Todd joined in.

“Pixie, I am beginning to like you.”

“Voyage. That being said, it’s time to go home, Marinette. Your father must be worried sick about us by now. I hope you boys can find your own way back.” A portal opened up, showing a cozy living room. Damian grabbed Lady’s wrist as she moved towards it.

“Wait, let us come with you. We need to contact someone to get rid of the curse on both of us. And we can also call our father to send us tickets for a ride home wherever you live.”

“Curse? Marinette, you never mentioned a curse in your call.” Blue Reaper said, raising her eyebrow.

“I will explain later. They can come with us and I am pretty sure Ra’s knows that we have escaped by now.” Lady grabbed the two brothers and dragged them through the portal.

She then threw herself onto the couch after releasing her hold on them and the two pocket gods went to comfort her after her ordeal. The Blue Reaper stood where the other portal was and fed a floating tiny gray horse, that must be the same species as Tikki or Plagg, some sugarcubes.

“You boys must be tired but the showers are upstairs and we might have some clothes your size. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You can stay the night if you want. Welcome to Paris.”

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Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop, @all-mights-asscheeks, @idk-j-go-with-it , @loysydark, @thenillabean, @lolieg, @zalladane, @silvergold-swirl

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(Part 5)

[thedcvilherself]

If there was an ounce of sense in the girl, she'd know just how depraved this was; that every step he'd taken that evening, and so many evenings prior, was not only sinful but criminal. Javier had entered her room, stripped her of her panties, spread her young legs and welcomed his cock into her once virgin cunt without ever asking if any of it was okay — without her even being awake to know any of it was happening. Worse, her stirring and fighting wasn't deterring him. No, it was galvanizing him in both body and soul. Sarah was little more than a beautiful body with which he could pleasure himself, had been for weeks on end without her even being aware of that fact. And now? Now she's unwittingly made herself something even more special. A toy that had become sentient, that was squeezing his massive manhood even more tightly in her fear, that's making him twitch with the delight of witnessing her agony. He was in the wrong. But Sarah, poor naive Sarah, had been raised in a home and school that protected her from that truth. No mention of sex had ever graced her ears, no education on the topic had ever been welcome. All she knew was that her body belonged to her future husband, that allowing anyone else to touch it was a sin, a crime against God. But Javier wasn't anyone else. Javier was her father, her spiritual guidance, the man that had introduced her and helped her get closer to God. Who knew him better than Javier? Who knew her better than Javier?

She's trying desperately to hear his words, clinging to them like they were the lifeline keeping her afloat in a violent ocean, the waves his needy thrusts casting hell down upon the delicate rowboat that was her body. It was a need that had no doubt been built up from years spent not getting what he needed, what he deserved, time he was clearly trying to make up for with each steady and aggressive thrust into her clenching walls. He could have sent her away, could have shunned her for the words she spoke and the things her body was doing — but he hadn't. He had looked out for her as he always had and it seemed that now, Father Rivera was paying the price for her sins.

A little pain. She wishes to tell him that it was more than that. She wishes to tell him that he didn't realize how fat his cock was against the tightness of her cunt, how there was a stinging warmth that said her insides were going to tear. She wishes to tell him that he's longer than he realizes, that his cock is pushing into places that feel wrong, that feel out of place, rearranging her guts like it was his life's work. She doesn't. What would he think of her? How selfish would it be of her to complain when he's making such a great sacrifice? How would it be at all fair that she put the blame of her agony on his shoulders when he was trying so hard to rectify her sins?

A shudder rattles her lithe form as his fingers part her folds, somehow his hands reaching to such a place feeling more sinful than the cock plunging into her, than the full balls smacking against her soaked hole. This touch feels somehow naughtier. "Father..." But then his fingers find that spot and she trembles again, harsher, crying the title this time. "F-father!" It does something to her, sends lines of electricity sparking from the bud, up into her stomach and out through her fingertips. His own are masterful, sparking pleasure in a place she didn't know existed, like an enemy charging against the pain of his assault, trying to vaquish the other sensation.

There's so much to say. She needs to apologize to him, to thank him, to assure him that she wasn't going to give up on the church, that she wasn't going to let Satan win, that she wasn't going to let her sin taint their community. But words fail her, thoughts a jumbled mess and her body even more so. She felt hot, she felt heavy, she felt dizzy; her entire being overcome by the entire ordeal, overcome by Javiar. He doesn't seem to require words from her anyhow, not when his lips suddenly crash against her own. Sinful. Those bright, teary orbs widen, her nails curling into his skin hard enough that they may draw blood. She's not fighting, not like she had, but she's not embracing the sensation either, fearful that any enjoyment would cast her straight to hell.

It's been weeks since he's been up to his nefarious deeds, endlessly milking load after load into her dumb, naïve cunt. Javier had been foolish enough himself to believe that fucking his frustrations out on her tight hole would eventually bring him peace. It turns out that years of frustration only made him want more and more. He'd come to discover that the art of sneaking around and using her tight, young body was both an artform and an addiction. The fucking thrill of it all, the adrenaline as he skewers her once virgin pussy. Even as the post nut clarity sinks in, having to carefully make his exit from her now abused cunt, he didn't think it could get any better. And yet, Javier couldn't have been more wrong. Never did the priest think that getting caught in the act make fucking the brunette even better.

It's a sad sight to a behold, some might even call it pitiful as he has Sarah in a mating press as she tries to fight off his advances. Javier doesn't need to be this deep inside the girl. Every long, punishing thrust kissing the entrance to her cervix. It doesn't matter that his baby is already growing inside the poor girl, he needs to remind her body that it belongs to him now. "Easy girl, easy." Javier speaks down to the brunette, almost as if he's breaking in a wild horse that's attempting to buck him off his seat. There's no anger or panic in his voice which is disturbing in itself. His bruising movements slow but do not stop as she tries to fight him off. She's not strong enough truly push him away and he briefly thinks about corralling her by the wrists and pinning them down to reduce her commotion. Instead, Javier does nothing and allows her resistance against his brutal fucking. No, Javi likes the way her beautiful eyes well up with tears. The pitiful way she scratches his flesh, still connected in the most intimate of way. Javier is sure she can feel exactly how he feels about the moment. His rock hard dick seems to swell and twitch, skewered inside her warm guts - he's getting off on the struggle she's putting up. He's already been caught, fat cock deep within the cookie jar. If this was going to work, he's going to need to wear down that resistance. Even if it meant breaking down further until she accepted the lies he fed to her. "I would keep your voice down, my child, lest you wish for an audience to come and see the sinful influence you've infected me with." Blame.

Javi continues to shush her, the muscles in his body tensing whenever her nails dig into his sweat kissed skin. He has to fight off the incredible desire to smile as she apologizes to him. "I know, my child, I know. I warned you of how powerful Lucifer's vices could be." His words try and calm the young woman but his hips just continue to send sounding, deep thrusts into her messy, mess cunt. Javier's lust tainted thoughts think of a reality where he's about to enjoy the pleasures that come with fucking her sleeping holes. The idea of baptizing her back of her throat or even her pristine, untouched asshole is enough to make a guttural moan to shiver through him. "I could have told you 'no'. Other priests would have done exactly that to save their community. But I wanted to help." Javi needs to come out as selfless as he can, make himself a martyr as he continues to spew lies. "This is my cross to bear now." The sweet squelch of her dripping cunt remains ever present and still milking himself in her tight walls. Slap. Slap. Slap. His cum swollen balls twitch every time they press up against her pretty asshole, drawing ever closer to his climax. "The Lord came to me in prayer. He told me that together, we could suppress the urges the devil has placed in us. If we choose to ignore his words, this sin spreads like wildfire. Will you be that selfish and risk destroying our community just because of a little pain?" One hand goes to sneak between her slender thighs, expert digits finding the meat of her cunt, spreading the soft petals of her sex and finding her clit for the first time. "The moment you give up on this church is the moment I know Satan has won." Her arousal coats not only his thick cock but drips down his heavy sac. On a carnal level, she's still feeling pleasure in the midst of his latest breeding session. "I refuse to give up on you." Perhaps he could melt some of the fight away by making her cum which would be a relative first considering he's only fucking her sleeping body for his own pleasure. He may have felt her cunt gush with arousal for him but he isn't sure he could say he's felt her cum fully while he rearranges her guts. "I need you to try....for me." Dark, hungry eyes lock into her hers before he's placing a deep, primal kiss onto the young girl's full lips. Like a machine he's pounding her sore pussy, massaging targeted circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves, all while his introduces the girl to the taste of his tongue.

[imagine-loki]

Gravity Of You, Chapter 2

TITLE: Gravity Of You CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 2 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s punishment from Odin is that he’s banished to the mountains, in his Jotun form, unable to change back. And the girl he loves is sent there too, as Odin thinks there’s no way she could love a monster.  RATING: M

Loki groaned as he sat up in the dirt, he looked around and recognised that he was up in the mountains, far away from the city of Asgard. He got to his feet with a huff, then noticed he was at the edge of a mountain forest too.

‘At least hunting for food should be easy.’ He muttered to himself.

Then he turned around and felt his blood boil in anger all over again. There was a wooden cabin, but it wasn’t an ordinary cabin. It was built larger, with very tall doorways and windows.

Loki realised that it was built for Jotun sized beings.

‘So Odin had this built, knowing full well I’d end up here.’ He said bitterly and headed towards it for a better look.

Upon closer inspection, it had been fitted with extra-large furniture. It seemed like it would be comfortable enough for him, even in his Jotun form. He was surprised that Odin actually made it rather luxurious.

But that didn’t matter. None of it did. As the main punishment was his poor Midgardian who was going to be ripped from her home and sent here, for nothing of her own doing. It was his fault she was going to be in this mess.

And he had no idea how he was going to fix it.

But he didn’t have time to think about it, as he heard a noise from outside and when he went to look, he spotted the bifrost opening up just inside the forest. He felt rage build up inside of him at the thought of Odin just dumping his Starlight girl in the forest like an abandoned animal.

Rushing out, he went straight there to check she was ok. His heart sank upon reaching her, she was just lying there… At first, he thought she was dead, but when he knelt by her, he saw her breathing and he was so relieved.

While he didn’t want her to see him the way he was, he wasn’t just going to leave her out here in the dirt while she was unconscious. So he scooped her up into his arms, cradled her against his chest and headed back to the cabin.

On his way back, she started to stir ever so slightly, eyes fluttering open a little. He panicked as he didn’t have his magic to get her to sleep again. But his panic was short lived as she fell unconscious again, luckily for him.

He got her back to the cabin and placed her down carefully on the sofa, it made her look absolutely tiny. Loki’s heart hurt as he thought about what he’d done to her, causing her to be here. He only hoped that she would be ok and wouldn’t panic too much.

When she started to stir, Loki made himself scarce outside, but he remained where he could still see the cabin, just amongst the trees.

Lyra was more than confused when she woke up, she had to pinch herself a few times as she could’ve sworn that she had either been shrunk a bit, or everything else had grown.

‘He… hello?’ She called out into the room as she got up to her feet, albeit shakily.

She couldn’t believe how the furniture was over-sized, and the rooms themselves were pretty big and the ceilings at least fifteen feet high.

After looking briefly through the place, seeing a bedroom, bathroom and utility room, there was a kitchen that was adjoined to the living room where she woke up. There was a sun room too.

She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not that there was no one else in there with her. But the fear was settling in either way, she was doing her best to hold back tears. Wherever she was, she had no clue.

And upon heading outside, she was even more confused. The first thing she noticed was the sky, there was what looked to be a sun but also two moons too.

Then she took in her surroundings and began to panic slightly, even if the scenery around her was beautiful, she had absolutely no idea where she was or how she got there. It looked like she was on a mountain, that much she was sure of. There was a forest too nearby, and she had a weird feeling that she was being watched.

She really didn’t know what to do. It was obvious she wasn’t on Earth anymore, but then, where was she?

After pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, she went back into the cabin for safety, not knowing what or who was out there. If she was on another planet, there could be any kind of aliens or monsters.

Loki felt really bad for just leaving her alone in there, but he had no option. She would be terrified if she saw him for who he was. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want her to hate him. If he could figure out how to change back into his Asgardian form, then he would show himself to her and work out how to get her home again.

But before nightfall, the choice was taken from him. As Lyra decided to try and find some kind of civilisation, so she stepped out of the cabin once more and began heading down the mountain. She knew it was potentially perilous, but she couldn’t just stay there. She would starve to death anyway.

Loki panicked, there was no way she would reach the city before dark, and there were dangerous animals out there.

So Loki followed her, keeping a distance he tried to remain hidden, but Lyra quickly came into trouble. There was a Bilgesnipe walking up the mountain track, right towards her. She noticed it, but had no idea what kind of animal it was or how to deal with it.

She started backing away from it, as anyone would do when faced with a scary animal they’d never seen before. But moving away was the worst thing to do when there was a Bilgesnipe in the way. It started walking towards her a bit quicker, nostrils flaring.

‘Lyra, don’t move. Don’t turn around, just freeze.’ Loki said quickly but calmly.

She froze on the spot, feeling tingling down her spine at the voice behind her. How did he know her name? Who was behind her? But she did as he said and didn’t move an inch.

The Bilgesnipe slowed back down when she stopped backing away, then it stopped a few feet from her and just puffed out a few times.

‘Keep still. It won’t hurt you unless you run, I give you my word. It’s trying to figure out what to do, whether you’re a threat or not.’ Loki then began to walk slowly towards Lyra.

The Bilgesnipe noticed Loki and it was its turn to freeze for a moment, before it turned on its heels and charged off down the mountain in fear from the frost giant, deciding that he was definitely a threat. And not one it wanted to take on.

Lyra then became a bit nervous about who or what was behind her, even though he had just saved her…

She took a deep breath and turned around to take a look for herself. Her eyes widened as she craned her neck to look at the giant towering over her.

[uelden]

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

[vexillumalbum]

MLQC boys being interrupted while having sex w/Reader

I think the title is pretty self-explanatory. 

All I want to say is that I wrote it long ago so there might be some mistakes. Also please bear in mind that English is not my native language. Thank you! I hope you'll enjoy!

NSFW below!

Gavin

The orange rays of the setting sun warmed the naked skin of your back pleasantly from behind the windows. Your boyfriend's white button-up casually framed your waist, barely clinging to your forearms, previously sliding off your shoulders. You had to hold it with your hands to keep it from sliding completely off. 

In fact, in that position, Gavin had a perfect view of your bare curves, with the shirt or without it. 

He was lying on his back facing you, propped up on pillows with his arms behind his head. His watchful gaze never left your body, even for a moment. His amber eyes scanned your figure, gliding over your perky breasts, smooth skin glazed in orange and silky strands of hair dancing near your neck and collarbones with your every move. 

He licked his lips.

“Come here.” It wasn’t an order, but also not a plea. It sounded more like a request of a man so in love with his girl that he couldn’t bear not touching her anymore. 

You giggled - and Gavin could’ve sworn it was the prettiest sound in the whole universe - before wrapping your fingers around his outstretched hand, letting yourself be guided to his solid body. 

Minutes later you were a moaning mess, your hips pinned to the mattress by two calloused hands, the devilish sounds coming from between your legs mixing with heavenly whimpers of your boyfriend’s name that were leaving your bruised lips. 

The grip you had on Gavin’s hair tightened when he sucked on your clit in time with his fingers working magic inside your heat. In response you heard a growl as his hips started assaulting the mattress even faster. The beast has been awoken

Tingling on your skin came as a warning for the pleasure that was supposed to arrive next. Your muscles were squeezing Gavin’s fingers hard and he couldn’t wait for his cock to be enveloped by your wet warmth next. Heels dug into the mattress, fingers gripping white sheets, head thrown back with parted lips and ragged breath and—

Thump thump thump

“Are you guys okay in there?!” Minor’s concerned voice sounded from outside of the bedroom right after knocking. It startled you to the point where you jumped up, covering your bare figure with anything you could reach for, even though you were sure the doors were closed and the intruder wasn’t able to come inside the room. “I’ve heard some weird noises and I thought I’d check on you! You know, better safe than sorry!”

Gavin immediately looked over you, checking if you were alright, before turning his head to the door with a look that could kill. He palmed himself through his boxers, his erection still evident and painful. 

“We’re alright! Thanks, Minor.” After a brief moment of silence you managed to say, not knowing if you should laugh or cry or maybe both. You heard a quiet “okay” and some shuffling - the intruder left the area.

In a moment of passion both you and Gavin had forgotten that Minor was temporarily living in your apartment due to AC disfunction at his place. He wasn’t a perfect roommate but at the same his presence wasn’t overbearing and you didn’t have any complaints… up until now.

“I’ll beat him up.” Through clenched teeth Gavin’s voice was low as he was putting on some shorts he took out of the drawers, and he now resembled the Super-Scary-Officer-Gavin more  than Your-Loving-And-Doting-Boyfriend-Gavin. 

“Don’t be so harsh on him. He was concerned.” You giggled only to be met with a doubting look from your boyfriend. “As he said, better safe than sorry.”

“I’ll give him something to be sorry about.” Poor Minor

Victor

The last few weeks have been pure torture. You were very open about how much you hated these business trips that both you and Victor had to take all the time to different places in the world. Your boyfriend was less outspoken, however the days of longing were taking its toll on him as much as on you. Sleepless nights, lonely dinners, unfulfilled lust…

Therefore, when there were no meetings, reports and proposals to write or filming sites to visit on the horizon, you jumped almost literally at the opportunity and took Victor to the wellness center. 

It was a pleasant evening, the sun had recently set, but the heat was still there, aligned from time to time by the cool breeze. The white bathrobe your only cover as you and Victor relaxed on the private terrace of the apartment, with the sound of the bubbling jacuzzi in the background.

Sitting in his lap, your boyfriend was caressing your bare thigh with one of his hands, while the other was stroking your hair. It was an intimate moment shared between two lovers finally reunited and ready to spend some much needed relaxing time together. 

Until…

It started as an innocent kiss between sips of fine dry wine selected by Victor himself.

He had you almost fully naked on his lap, with your robe slipping down your back, threading fingers in your silky strands and tasting your lips - which he had to admit - were even tastier than his favorite crimson beverage.  

You were determined to get him naked, to free these gorgeous muscles from beneath the soft robe. With your nails scraping his skin lightly you were revealing more and more of his toned body earning sweet sighs from Victor as a reward. 

His skilled fingers moved from your hair to kneading your butt, making your already wet pussy to rub on his clothed hard length. The added friction was like a cherry on top of the whole make out session but you didn’t want to stop there. Why would you settle for just a cake when you can have a full four course meal, right?

“Victor, I need it, please.” You begged when he didn’t want to give you what you wanted well knowing what was it that you desired. 

“What is it, babygirl?” His question was whispered into the damp skin of your neck where Victor was leaving love bites. “Tell me what you need. You know I’ll give you everything.” He sounded so seductive, his low voice was making you shiver and you were sure your pussy was getting wetter and wetter with every word he said. “Just say it.”

“You.” You crumbled. “I want your cock. Please.”

He fulfilled his promise a few seconds later when you felt his girth stretching you out in the best way possible. Victor gripped your hips and with a look that was telling you to prepare for a ride, he started thrusting up while roughly bringing you down on his cock over and over. 

You gripped his shoulders with one hand while the other was clamped over your mouth to make sure no-one could hear the moans your boyfriend was bringing out of you.

So close, you were co close, and when his thumb pressed on your clit, you could swear you saw stars and—

Bzzt bzzt bzzt

You jumped at the sudden sound, fear taking place of lust and passion. With a quick look to the side you saw that Victor’s phone was ringing and the caller’s ID was “Financial Director”. Thinking it was important you exited his lap, sliding to the next chair. 

A low growl escaped him when you pulled away, his member still as hard as ever. His furrowed brows were the indicator of how much he didn’t like what you did, but you only smiled to him sheepishly and gestured to his phone. 

A part of him was impressed of how much you valued his work and that you knew how important it was. Yet, the other part was furious that your love making fucking got interrupted. 

He took a second or two or more who knows if he stopped time to admire your rosy cheeks and bruised lips and how you were panting after minutes of passion, before picking up his phone from the table and answering the call.

“Be quick.” The tone of his voice so much different than when he was talking to you, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched - he was mad. But that didn’t stop him from giving you a look that you could only describe one way: I’m not done with you yet.

Shaw

At times like this, you were immensely grateful for the almost deafening music that could be heard in the Live House all the time. 

Usually, it annoyed you that the rumble from the speakers drowned out any other noises - like when you were talking to others, but now you liked that you had the freedom to moan as Shaw's hips were pounding into you to the rhythm of the club song. 

Hands clutching his muscular arms, head tilted back repeatedly hitting the wall behind you, you were braced for a wild ride. Your boyfriend's hands tightly squeezing your ass supporting your weight, his hot lips nibbling at your neck marking you in every place he had access to, his cock driving into you with a reckless abandon.

And all of this caused by your short dress that showed a little too much skin in Shaw’s opinion (and he would never have thought that something like “too much skin showing” would be a problem for him but seeing every guy in the club eyeing you had his blood boiling) and your teasing ways.

During the break between songs, when Shaw had a chance to rehydrate himself for another hour on stage, your boyfriend decided to satisfy a different type of thirst. For your pussy

Sex with Shaw was always fun and wild and everything you ever wanted. But it was the best when he was hot and bothered and when envy was seeping through his body like a venom making him see red.

To be honest, you weren’t surprised when he grabbed your wrist right after exiting the stage and pulled you into the back room. You weren’t surprised when he pinned you to the wall, his lips already marking your collarbone as his hands were skillfully pushing your panties aside. You weren’t surprised when he unzipped his pants and pushed them down, freeing his hard cock.

And you sure as hell weren’t surprised when he slid into you with one sharp thrust while sucking on the sensitive skin below your ear.

“Tell me,” he panted in between the thrusts while his tongue was exploring your neck. “Do you enjoy making me jealous? Do you think it’s funny or something?”

As you were able to only whimper and moan, you didn’t respond. Of course you were enjoying making him jealous once in a while, especially when you were rewarded with his hips snapping into your in the back room of Live House.

“Answer. Me.” You swore he wanted to kill you with how intensely he was impaling you on his cock.

“Yes! Yes oh god yes!” You managed to choke out right before his fingers pinched your clit. Loud scream elected from your throat and you didn’t fail to notice the smirk Shaw was having plastered to his handsome face.

“Let me make this clear, baby.” He slowed a little as he leaned into you to have his mouth right next to your ear. “You are mine. Only mine.”

You wanted to respond. Say something, anything, but then—

“Shaw! We’re going back on the stage!” 

Adam’s voice broke through the music and your pants along with a few pound knocks. You jumped at the sudden intruder, your eyes wide and lips parted. 

Shaw on the other hand was totally unfazed when he started thrusting into you with a full speed again. And again. And again. And again. 

He didn’t even say anything back, he just went straight back into fucking your brains out.

“I told you, you’re mine.” He murmured into your sweaty skin when he saw how startled you were. “So focus on me and only me.”

Lucien

You liked surprising your boyfriend. For example when you visited him at the university with some tasty lunch and a big smile plastered to your face, or when you learned how to brew tea so you could make him the best beverages when he was particularly stressed with work, or when you memorized all scientific names of his favorite butterflies to feel closer to him through joined hobby…

Or when he came back to his office at the Research Center after a tiring laboratory work only to find you wearing very skimpy purple lingerie and his lab coat, sitting in his chair with a smug grin and a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

Part of him wanted to chide you for being reckless like that. After all, he would as much as kill, without even batting an eye, anyone who stumbled into his office with you being inside looking like that. 

But other part of him the freaky part already imagined taking you in various positions, against different surfaces during his whole lunch break. 

And so he started with face-fucking you on his desk, while pinning you to the mahogany wood with one hand as the other was palming himself through his trousers. Your panties torn and long forgotten on the floor, the lab coat loosely hugging your form with your legs wrapped around Lucien’s shoulders and hands grabbing his hair tightly. 

This man’s mouth could not only recite poetry and name every flower in the garden, but also it was able to make you cum in a record time. You had to bit your lip very very hard to control the volume of your moans.

Your second orgasm was delivered to you by the scientist’s long nibble fingers exploring your warm sensitive flesh like his life depended on it. And in a way it did, because you were the sole purpose of his existence and making you feel good was his mission, so…

Lucien was preparing you for the third one, when you decided that enough is enough. After all, you came there to make him feel good, not the other way around. 

So before your boyfriend could react you pushed him onto his chair and dropped to your knees with a grin, and when he stubbornly wanted to got up again, you batted your eyelashes a few times as you stroked his member through the fabric. He got the message and relaxed into the seat. But don’t be fooled, he was still in control.

“Such a good girl.” He praised you when you were undoing his belt. He gripped your hair guiding your face closer to his crotch.

You’ve given Lucien a blowjob so many times already, you knew exactly what to do. You licked, sucked, bobbed your head and massaged with your hands what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. 

Every sigh from the professor was making you shiver so you worked even harder to hear more of them until—

Knock knock knock

“Professor, excuse me…” From behind the door the head of one of Lucien’s assistants peeked out and before you could do anything he saw the position you and your boyfriend were in and immediately panicked. “Oh my— I’m—I’m so sorry!” 

He was long gone before you could even pull away from Lucien, but you didn’t miss the murderous stare professor had while looking at now - fortunately - closed door. You didn’t know if you should laugh or collapse into the ground from embarrassment. 

You were sure your face was redder than a tomato. Luckily, knowing Lucien’s reputation no-one would be so stupid to tell anyone about this situation. Or so you hoped so.

Before you decided on your final reaction to the intruder, Lucien’s palm grabbed a handful of your hair and he brought your head closer again so that your nose was brushing his hard moist cock. 

“I believe we have some unfinished business here, butterfly.”

Weirdly, you never saw this assistant in the Research Center ever again…

Kiro 

Kiro loved music almost as much as he loved you and his snacks.

So he was taking every opportunity he could to show you around his studio, write music with you and compose. 

And do other, less appropriate deeds.

For the longest time Sunshine Boy couldn’t find inspiration for his newest song. He tossed and turned in his bed every night and skipped meals because of it. He didn’t want to disappoint his fans and you, his greatest biggest fan!

But only if he knew that bringing you with him to the studio would be the cure for his lack of inspiration, he would’ve done it already days ago. Why didn’t he think of it sooner? You were his muse after all! Your moans were the greatest music to his ears!

So that’s how you ended up with Kiro pounding into you from behind tightly gripping your hair to guide your head nearer to the microphone so that every one of your whimpers could be recorded properly. 

The speed of his thrust was setting a rhythm that he wanted his new song to be in which gave him a plethora of sounds escaping your mouth. Oh how much he loved those sounds.

Gripping your hips he angled you a little more so that he could go even deeper, take you even better. He was sure he was leaving bruises on your skin with the force of his grip, but he didn’t care. He would smother them with kisses later. 

“More, Miss Chips. I wanna hear you more.” He murmured as his hand circled your waist and his fingertips pressed onto your swollen clit. If you didn’t know better, you would think that he wanted to kill you from the sheer amount of pleasure he was causing you. 

Your moans were getting higher and higher and Kiro knew it was because you were getting closer to your release. He loved that moment, right before your orgasm when your muscles were clasping around his cock trying to milk him from everything that he had, and your eyes were rolling onto the back of your head and you legs were shaking like leaves on a windy day and—

Bam bam bam

“Kiro, what are you doing in there?! Our recording session starts soon!” Savin’s voice sounded from the other side of the door and Kiro cursed under his breath that he was interrupting his own recording session.

You on the other hand squealed and tried to move away from your boyfriend but he didn’t let you.

He slowed down his thrusts and clamped a hand over your mouth.

“We’ll be there in a minute!” Kiro answered but his agent didn’t seem to be convinced because he insisted on waiting for you two at the door.

When you wanted to move away again, disappointed that you wouldn’t be getting the realest that you wanted, Kiro brought you closer to himself again and started snapping his hips into your once again. His hand still clamped tightly over your mouth. 

“Well, maybe our recording is over but we can at least finish this.”

____________________________________________________

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to read more of my works they are here

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Dimitrescu Daughter HCs

I thought this would only take a few minutes. I was so, so very wrong. Anyway, some of these are somewhat exclusive to my fic (Serenade), but they’ll make sense even if you haven’t read that.

Daniela:

Others have already talked about how Daniela reads a ton of romance novels, so I’m not really going to go into that very much, just saying that I agree 100%, I mean c’mon, it’s practically canon.

While she mainly sources books from her family’s library, there are a few she’s “acquired” over the years that she keeps locked away in her room. These tend to be a bit, ahem, steamier than her mother would approve of/let her read under normal circumstances.

How did she get these? Well, there has to be someone who delivers goods to Castle Dimitrescu (Duke, perhaps?), seeing as the Maidens need, like, actual food to survive. Sometimes Daniela manages to convince them to order books for her, usually just asking for books by authors she likes, or ones she’s heard maidens whispering about.

No, the delivery person does not read the book’s summaries or reviews, they have a feeling (based on titles and covers alone) that they don’t want to know.

As for her experiences with actual romance… she’s so very, very excited about it, all the time. Wants to kiss every cute Maiden she sees, and sometimes daydreams about a beautiful woman fleeing from lycans who comes to the castle for shelter, clinging to Dani for warmth and protection, and it’s love at first sight, and they kiss and kiss and right as it gets to the good part-! Someone interrupts her daydream (usually Cassandra).

However, her actual experiences are fairly limited. Sure, she has kissed Maidens, but she tends to get over excited. Like in Serenade, she starts to rush the process, and usually ends up draining her “lover” aka victim before anything more intimate happens.

She’s definitely done sexual things, just, well, not with other people. Private things. Usually during or after reading one of her special books. You get the picture.

Because of this, and her aforementioned love of romance novels, Daniela has become somewhat obsessed with the idea of her first time. She wants everything to be perfect. The setting, the timing, who she’s with… Hence her reaction in chapter 3 of Serenade. It’s not that she didn’t want to continue, just that the circumstances didn’t feel right. She’s very particular!

Favorite Music Genre: Girl goes wild for an emotional, gut-wrenching love/power ballad. The type to lie in bed and cry while listening to Hozier or Lorde (not that she can hear either of them, considering her limited music options). Doesn’t admit it, though, and mostly listens to indie pop when other people can hear. That and whatever the Maiden plays on piano ;)

Okay it feels weird to joke about her loving music I wrote, anywayyyy

Hobbies: Other than reading there’s not too much I can see her doing, really. She’d be sure to get into anything that her s/o enjoys, though, even if it’s something difficult or time-consuming. Writing is something she’d love, but it’s difficult for her to keep her focus on just one project at a time. Ideally she’d write short stories, romantic ones obvs, and have someone else proofread/edit them. For the most part she’d write within fantasy and historical setting (seeing as she’s got experience in both of those departments).

ADHD, BABY. Bigtime, seriously. Maybe this is just my adhd ass projecting, but I can’t not see her as having it. For her it mainly manifests with hyper-focusing/difficulty staying on task. It’s like a switch with those on either end, flipping back and forth every once in a while. She can spend six hours reading two different books in one sitting, but if someone just breathes too loudly it disrupts her completely. Because of this she’s somewhat prone to abandoning projects. It’s a sore subject for her, and her sisters are aware, normally only bringing it up if they’re really angry with her.

Opinions on the four lords: Thinks Heisenberg is a tool (pun intended), also thinks that he secretly reads super erotic novels. She doesn’t have any proof, though, and would never say anything about it out loud. Just makes fun of him in her head. Doesn’t actually judge him for what she thinks he reads, just judges his personality and the “need he feels to hide his secret”. Loves Donna, and low-key thinks she’s attractive. Daniela mostly bases that off the portrait she’s seen, but, like many fans, also thinks the hands are nice. The puppets don’t bother her, though she also doesn’t really care about them, other than thinking that Donna interacting with them is cute.

Opinions continued: Moreau is… uh… fish boy. Daniela thinks he’s weird, kinda gross, and hardly considers him a “real” lord. Poor boy :(  At least she doesn’t actively make fun of him?... Even if that’s only because she kinda forgets about him most of the time. As for Lady Dimitrescu, well, obviously Daniela loves her mom. The whole family is very close, and as the “youngest”, Daniela gets a lot of attention. Sometimes she thinks her mother is too strict, but at the end of the day there’s no love lost.

Bela:

Cleans up after her sisters a lot, but still nowhere near as much as any of the Maidens do. Often agrees to help with messes in exchange for blackmail material. “Oh, Daniela, what a shame you broke mother’s favorite dish… I could help, but you owe me one.” At the end of the day, though, there’s plenty she would slide.

Being the “oldest”, she’s expected to behave the best, and often feels more restricted than her sisters. Being an example is hard! Occasionally she’ll have the impulse to rebel, but this usually only manifests in scenarios like the one mentioned above, aka she’ll simply be more lenient of her siblings for a bit.

Overall far less sadistic than her sisters. Cares more about the quality of pain then the amount of it. Only ever goes overboard if someone full out threatens or hurts her family. Insults towards them still earn her ire, and will get her to punish someone, but it’s not enough to make her resort to torture. Usually.

Gets the most restless out of the three. As cool (and large) as the castle is, it’s all she’s ever really known. If not for her weakness to cold, she’d go out on hikes a lot. Nature interests her, fascinates her, but she’d be a little less fond of most of it in person. Like, oh, waterfalls sound so cool, followed by a hundred complaints about the noise. Thinks deer are the cutest shit ever (second only to humans, maybe).

Unlike Daniela (though that HC is relevant almost exclusively to Serenade), Bela has actually slept with a Maiden before. She doesn’t really care for them enough to consider it a relationship, instead admiring them for their entertainment value. Definitely could fall for a Maiden, simply hasn’t yet. Of the three I feel like she takes the longest to fall in love, and even longer to actually act on her feelings. Sometimes resents her siblings because they unknowingly “claimed” a Maiden that she was starting to be interested in. However, she fully acknowledges that she should have said something if she didn’t want to lose the girl, considering the situation they live in.

Favorite music genre: Classical, full orchestra style, with a soft spot for swing/jazz. Enjoys having music play softly while she reads, and is very particular about the volume. Absolutely would argue with her sisters if they tried to change the music or turn it up.

Hobbies: Reading, duh. Less interested in romance than Daniela by a considerable amount. For the most part she reads non-fiction books, enjoying learning about history and the sciences. Astronomy is at the top of her favorites list, followed by biology, then obscure (and often bloody) pieces of history. Niche=perfect. Also enjoys music, even if she had to rely mostly on self-teaching books. Knows the basics of piano, but doesn’t actively play, much preferring both the violin and harp. Most of the time she’ll only play if she knows her sisters won’t bother her, or if her mother asks her to.

Opinions on the four lords: Admires Heisenberg’s work/his edgenuity, but thinks the actual man is a temperamental child… who smells like wet dog. He’s only been at Castle Dimitrescu a couple times (per Mother Miranda’s request), and both times Bela moved to the other side of the house so she wouldn’t have to acknowledge his existence. While she would never admit it, she’s low-key creeped out by Donna’s dolls, and really only tolerates Angie. However, she would never act on her nerves, out of consideration for Donna’s feelings. She knows that her mother gets along well with the dollmaker, and keeps this at the forefront of her mind.

Opinions continued: “Moreau who? Oh, the fish guy? He’s still alive?... Good for him.” Wants to make Lady Dimitrescu proud, but not as desperately as Cassandra. Unknowingly mimics a lot of her mother’s little habits and ticks, and would be quietly embarrassed if someone pointed it out to her. As mentioned previously, she feels like she has to be an example for the others, and somewhat resents the pressure this puts on her. On the other hand, she does enjoy being “responsible for” (read: in charge of) her sisters. Additionally, she is the most likely to get away with lying to Alcina, though she does not often do so. This isn’t because she’s the most manipulative (that’s Cass), or the best liar (that’s Dani, if she’s trying), but simply because Alcina doesn’t think her oldest daughter would lie. Even if she doubts something Bela says, she’ll usually give her the benefit of the doubt… as long as it doesn’t happen very often.

Cassandra:

Sleeps the most of the three, if only because she’s the most active of them. Not as fast as the others while in swarm mode, but the fastest on foot, partially because she’s more likely to simply walk places. She knows the sound of feet on the floor scares the Maidens, and she drinks their fear with utter pleasure. Additionally she claims that it just feels nice to “stretch her legs”. But she will not hesitate to enter swarm mode when chasing someone. As fun as it is to smell their fear, she can get impatient, wanting to get close and personal to her target.

Tends to hide most of her feelings, sometimes even opting to “convert” them into anger. In other words, think of her emotional state as an ever-filling bottle of water. As things happen, she feels emotions, and the rate at which water pours into the bottle increases. Ideally if the water level started getting too high, she would address whatever is increasing the flow of water. Instead of that, she often uses anger, which is equivalent to shaking the bottle a bit and letting water messily spill out of it. Doesn’t address the actual problem, but let’s her release some pressure/free up some room.

Goes through Maidens faster than her siblings (yes, even Daniela “draining you of blood is romantic” Dimitrescu). Not all of them even die in the basement, sometimes what was supposed to be a “warning” turns into “oh shit the blood won’t stop coming out, this is how I die, in this accursed castle, no friends or family to mourn me, just the painful knowledge that I will not be the last, I will die for no cause, no glory, just the bitter whims of a blood-soaked mistress” or something along those lines.

While more likely to get attached to someone than Bela, Cassandra isn’t one to do much about it. She might flirt, might even try to kiss (or, uh, kiss while also not wearing clothes wink wink), but she won’t (usually) claim someone as her own, or protest if one of her sisters wants to have some fun with them (even if it’s the bloody kind of fun). Technically gets over breakups and “breakups” (i.e. death) easier than either of her sisters. To be fully accurate, Daniela still goes through lovers faster, but she also remembers them and cares for them for longer post-breakup.

Somewhat of a blood kink. Like, more than vampires automatically have. In intimate settings she cares more about the quantity of blood and what she can do with it (loves bloodstains) than what causes the bloodshed.

Favorite music genre: Rock ‘n roll. Leans towards older stuff, as well as heavier songs. Soft spot for symphonic metal, but doesn’t admit it out of the fear that some might consider it a “weaker form” of the genre. Almost exclusively listens to bands that have female vocalists, and gets crushes on them more than she’d ever admit.

Hobbies: Art! Painting, mostly, but dabbles in sculpture from time to time. It’s been too long since I took an art class for me to suggest a style for her paintings, but I imagine her sculptures would be somewhat abstract. Her art would revolve around emotion, the stronger and rawer the better, with viewers often being left uncomfortable. While Alcina buys plenty of art supplies for her, Cassandra is fond of improvising, especially by creating her own “tools” (of questionable efficiency) out of items she has laying around. She is absolutely the one who took her mother’s lipstick. If you don’t know what that means, don’t worry, it’s just mentioned in one of the RE8 notes that Lady Dimitrescu’s valuable lipstick is missing.

Opinions on the four lords: Tolerates Heisenberg more than the rest of her family by a considerable amount. She’s seen glimpses of his work, his steampunk-adjacent style, and actually kind of digs it. While Bela cares more about the science behind his work, Cassandra just digs the aesthetic. Sometimes for her art she also needs things she can’t get from the castle, and are too obscure to get from a merchant, so she trades tools/ideas with Heisenberg in exchange for him making something for her. “Can you make a battery but whenever it’s in use it makes a horrible screaming sound?” “Yes. PS I hate your mother and Miranda.” “I didn’t fucking ask.”

Opinions continued: Doesn’t really care much about Donna, but acknowledges her as a fellow artist, and would be willing to consult her if she talked more (and talked without Angie). Cassandra hasn’t met Moreau, thankfully (he would cry). Knows about him from her sister/mother, and as a result doesn’t care about him. Internally whenever someone mentions him, she pictures, like, a Goldfish Cracker (the snack that smiles back) with legs except also it’s green and moldy.

Opinions cont.: Loves her mother so much. Determined to please her, to make her proud, but often left feeling less loved than her sisters. This strains her relationship with her family, not that she’d ever voice her feelings and talk through the issue. Let’s be real, Alcina would probably feel guilty for not realizing how Cass felt. Nonetheless, Cassandra probably spends the most time with her mother, often offering to assist her with tasks, or trying to get her to appreciate her art.

[sapphireginger]

Title: I’ve Been Burned Before - Chapter #7

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,317

Warnings: 

Mild Explicit Language

Summary:

The younger man shuffles in place. "Where do you suppose the spark is now?"

"Who knows?" said the older gentleman.

“Whatever was that spark’s name?” the old woman asks.

Neither man knows the answer, but a small girl nearby quickly engages them from her place on a swing set. “He was everyone and no one at once of course. No one knows his name. I think he could even be a she, but we’ll never know either way.”

A/N: Enjoy!! ♡ ♥︎ ♡

Full AO3 Link

Created For: @anyfandomgoesbingo / Square Filled: “I hope you’re happy.”

The months continue to pass and pretty soon they’ve been mated for three months. It’s a week after month three of being mated that a piece of information reaches the ears of the two mates through the mistletoe vine of supe news. 

It’s an old woman that they overhear on their way to the shop from their date whose words make them stop in their tracks.

“It’s tragic is what it is but no one feels any great sympathy as far as I can tell. The lot of them were rotten and that Nemeton was rotten through and through.”

An older gentleman speaks next. “It’s a shame though. So many lives were lost. To think, all they needed was a spark. I mean they’re rare and all of course, but they had one. Had the spark not been harmed, they easily could’ve prevented everything.”

Peter watches his mate freeze in place as they listen in a manner that is as inconspicuous as possible. He's dying to wrap his arms around Stiles and hold him tight. The scent of fear and more is making his wolf anxious. Peter settles for taking his mate's hand and lacing their fingers together.

Stiles’s blood runs cold as he listens to the words said by a younger man who is the next to speak.

“Well, you know it’s called Beacon Hell for a reason. Sparks are gifts to us weres, gifts to the supernatural world in general, and that the spark was taken for granted is abhorrent. I don't blame the poor thing for leaving. I would have left too.”

The older gentleman clears his throat, humming in agreement. "Aye, as would I. Also, a spark needs an anchor which is often a pack. However, they don't need an anchor in the same way a were does. That group of individuals could hardly be considered a pack. They were the antithesis of such a sacred thing."

"The poor dear," the old woman says softly.

"My heart goes out to the spark, truly." The older man huffs, sounding vaguely annoyed. "If I had any idea who the spark was, I would've shown them what a pack should be like."

The younger man shuffles in place. "Where do you suppose the spark is now?"

"Who knows?" said the older gentleman.

“Whatever was that spark’s name?” the old woman asks.

Neither man knows the answer, but a small girl nearby quickly engages them from her place on a swing set. “He was everyone and no one at once of course. No one knows his name. I think he could even be a she, but we’ll never know either way.” She notices Stiles and Peter and waves. “Hi, Mr. and Mr. Hale!”

The two mates wave and then keep walking, Stiles’s normally pale face ashen. Something has happened in Beacon Hills, but the question is, what exactly did happen? Neither of them says the words allowed, their new life still feeling somewhat fragile in some respects. Would it be just their luck if that accursed place and the ghosts of their past were the thing that shattered their peaceful existence?

✸ ✧ 🔥 ✧ ✸

It takes hours to calm Stiles down. Peter is exhausted by the time his mate finally settles.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Stiles gulps, inhaling air greedily as his chest loses its tightness. “Do you think it’s really bad?”

Peter shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s possible. Why?”

“No reason,” Stiles snaps. The shop shakes slightly with the spark's frustration, a glow coming from his eyes. Peter loves his mate and finds his power intoxicating but when he gets upset all the wolf wants to do is fix it. A frame falls to the ground and shatters.

Stiles glares at it and then at his mate. "Well shit. I'll have to make a new one for the dryad's birthday." His lips form a pout, the walls stilling and the shop suddenly silent once more.

Softly, Peter rumbles to soothe his mate. He hates when Stiles is upset, but he doesn't know how to approach him right now. They never talk about that accursed town. Neither of them loved it there. Neither of them has the fondest of memories of the place. Well, the fond memories they do have, don't outweigh the bad ones. "Stiles, darling? What can I do?"

"Nothing," the spark says, the scent of salt hitting the air. "Great. Now I'm all weepy. I hope you're happy."

The wolf quirks a brow and tilts his head at his mate's tone.

Stiles huffs, his cheeks pinking with sheepishness and guilt. "Sorry, my wolf," he mumbles. Stiles sighs and crosses his arms, looking so small and much less like the powerful spark Peter knows him to be. He's nearly hidden from the wolf's sight where he's sunk into the sofa with the giant quilt wrapped around him.

"It's all right, sweetheart. No harm done."

“I don’t give a damn about any of them,” Stiles says, sending a small smile to his mate in thanks but it quickly disappears. "I don't have a single damn fuck to give about them. I'm all fresh out of fucks." 

The steady beat of the spark's heart doesn’t surprise Peter. Stiles is telling the truth and it would've shocked Peter more if he had still cared. The wolf has never claimed to be a good person and well Stiles hasn’t either. It’s like Darcy says, 'My good opinion once lost is lost forever.'

The Beacon Hell Hole wolves didn’t heed the warning. He wonders what exactly happened but decides not to push any more. He’s not eager to find out the circumstances behind the gossip they overheard earlier today. That accursed town holds nothing good for him or his mate.

So instead, Peter guides his mate to lay down and positions himself between his mate and the back of the sofa. He curls around his mate's back and holds him close. After a few minutes of gently running his clawed fingers through Stiles's hair, Peter tucks the quilt in tight around his mate and buries his nose in the spark’s neck. The outside world can fuck off for now, especially whatever shitstorm the wolves have undergone. Whatever it was, they surely brought it upon themselves.

✸ ✧ 🔥 ✧ ✸

When Peter wakes, his mate isn’t there and he panics slightly. He snarls softly and tries to calm his racing heart, only relaxing when he sees Stiles sitting cross legged on the floor. The spark is silently staring at nothing almost like he's in a trance. As the wolf sits up, he recognizes what's happening. He's only seen it on a few occasions and he's in awe every time.

Right now, his mate is wearing the expression he has when the spark is communicating with the earth, although usually he does it outside where he can actually—“Did a root decide it wanted to buy some potions?” the wolf says in a teasing tone.

Stiles blinks and slowly turns to look at him. His eyes are glowing bright purple, the small strikes of lightning making Peter shudder. At first, the wolf doesn't think he'll get a reply, but after a couple minutes, his gaze still distant, Stiles says, “They’re gone. All of them. They are all gone. There’s no one left.”

Peter stills, his eyes widening. “No one?” he whispers.

“No one.” 

The spark reaches forward to take his mate’s hand so he too can see what Stiles has learned from Mother Earth and Neoma, Queen of the Nemeta. His voice is eerie when he speaks.

“Nemeta are sacred and are worshiped as goddesses in most countries. They are protected by their chosen guardian. Every single Nemeta has a guardian except for the Nemeton in Beacon Hills. 

“For a time, the guardian was my mother but then she grew ill and there was no one to teach me. So, the Nemeton tried to find me and show me my role, but she wasn’t strong enough. The town fell into darkness, a darkness so depriving that she was lost to hibernation. She was too weak but then the night you were killed by fire, she was awakened once more. She healed my burn, though the scar was beyond her ability to heal. She then aided me in my departure as best she could. 

“However, she kept watch over the town as much as was in her power to do so. She saw the way the so called pack functioned. There was no loyalty among them. There was no real connection, and the pack bonds were non-existent. 

“So, the day after you left, the Nemeton reached out to her queen to plead with her. She begged the queen to see the town was cleansed. The Queen did but when she discovered just how deep into the darkness the town had gone, she said there was nothing for them to do but start over. Like Noah in the ark, the Nemeton shot up and swallowed the town whole in her new shadow.”

Peter is silent and frozen as he listens, almost unable to believe what he’s hearing. “So, there’s no more Beacon Hills? No Derek or Scott or your—”

“No more,” Stiles says, cutting his mate off. He swallows thickly, his throat clicking with the action. “There is no such thing as Beacon Hills anymore.” Then Stiles slumps as if he were a puppet that had gotten its strings cut.

Peter is quick to catch his mate and pulls him close. The rest of the information continues to trickle into the wolf’s mind, and he snarls at what he learns.

✸🔥✸

Deaton helped Kate.

Gerard and Kate worked together to kill Laura and Peter was blamed.

Derek abused his power over the new betas and ended up blinded by them.

The Sheriff was turned and then went feral.

Stiles had been the heart, had been the glue, of what little pack they had.

When Stiles left everything fell apart. 

✸🔥✸

The wolf looks down at his unconscious mate and brushes the chocolate curls away from his eyes. His beautiful mate who was the glue and heart of that band of misfits left and without him they were nothing. Now, from what Peter has just gleaned, they really are nothing. They are no more.

With a sigh, Peter lifts his mate and carries him upstairs to the bedroom. He sets about tucking the two of them into bed. The wolf doesn’t expect anything more from Stiles tonight, but just as he’s about to fall asleep himself, he feels a tug on his wrist. Amber eyes lock with his own as the spark speaks in a whisper. “I have to go back.”

Peter blinks and narrows his eyes. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?” Peter snaps. “There’s nothing there. You said it yourself. There's nothing there for you. There's nothing there for me. There is nothing there for either of us. Why would you go back?!"

A hand cups the wolf’s cheek and Stiles flashes his eyes. “It’s my birthright. Neoma has asked me to go. It is now my duty as it was my mother’s duty before me.” Stiles’s voice cracks. “Don’t make me go alone, my wolf. I don’t want to go alone.”

Peter growls softly and pulls his mate into a tight embrace. “I told you there’s no place for me other than by your side. You are not alone. You will never be alone again. I promise. I belong by your side, always. I will be by your side until my final breath, darling.”

The tension that had built up in Stiles in preparation for his mate’s refusal dissipates. The spark smiles, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I love you, mój słodki wilku," he whispers against the tan skin of his mate's throat. The spark noses at his claiming bite, giving it a harsh nip, that he soothes the sting of with his tongue.

The action elicits a soft gasp from the wolf. "And I you, little sparkling."

Stiles pulls back with a wet laugh and puckers his lips, seeking a kiss from his wolf, a kiss from his mate. Of course, Peter eagerly gives the amber eyed man what he desires. There’s nothing the wolf wouldn’t do for Stiles, nothing he wouldn't do for his mate. Peter can only hope that the spark knows this. IF he doesn't, Peter will keep reminding him over and over and over again.

With this in mind, the wolf pulls from the kiss to lock eyes with his gorgeous mate. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. You know that right?"

A thick swallow makes the pale column of his mate's throat tighten and loosen as the spark nods. "Yes, but I love hearing it just the same."

"Then I shall tell you over and over and over again. I never want you to doubt it."

Stiles smiles, his cheeks bright pink again. "The same goes for me in regard to you. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, my Peter wolf."

"Oh?" Peter says, his smile doing things to Stiles. The wolf's heart swells, and he kisses the tip of Stiles's nose. "I didn't know that, but now I do."

"What a pair we make, huh?" Stiles says with a goofy grin. 

Peter chuckles. "Yes, what a pair we make indeed."

Stiles quirks a brow and chews his lip, gasping with a clawed finger gently pries the lip from between his teeth. 

"What do you want, Stiles?"

"You. Peter, I want you."

"I'm yours," the wolf breathes, bringing their lips together once more.

They get lost in the intoxication of skin on skin when the spark vanishes their clothing. Tomorrow, they will worry about the trek back to the place where it all began, but for now they will indulge in the carnal pleasures they can bring each other. They will do so again and again and again until dawn.